what Davion did in every spare minute he had. He studied harder than Adam had ever studied in medical school. Which was why Davion was going to be a great doctor. He was motivated. He had passion. And he was smart.
Davion rolled his eyes, then retreated to the rear corner of Trinique’s, where he had a table set up with all his books and study materials. When he wasn’t working in the clinic, he spent his days and nights studying part of the time and singing the rest of the time. It was his soulful voice that brought in the customers, and it was his soul that would make him a great doctor someday. Adam wanted to be part of that, part of something good, because good hadn’t really touched his life in a long, long time.
For a moment, his attention wandered back to the front porch of Trinique’s cottage, where Erin Glover was still standing, still looking rigid. Then he meandered down to the end of the bar to wait on a customer, trying to forget the image that just didn’t want to let go.
CHAPTER TWO
“IT LOOKS bad. Is Trinique here?”
The man standing in front of Erin was holding a child in his arms. A child with a foot wrapped in a bloody towel. Instantly, Erin wanted to see the wound. “Bring him into the house,” she instructed, pushing open the door.
“We want to see Trinique.”
“I’m sorry, but she’s not here. Davion said she would be gone for a while.”
“Then I have to go see Doc Adam. He’ll know what to do.”
“Is Trinique a doctor?” Erin asked, clearly confused.
“No, ma’am. But she’s been taking care of us for a long time. Before Doc Adam, and since he’s working at the bar today, I didn’t want to bother him.”
“Look, I’m a doctor. I take care of children. Could I have a look at your son’s foot? See what I can do for him?” She wasn’t prepared, really. Didn’t have her medical kit. Hadn’t even come here as a doctor. But a child in need … she couldn’t turn them away.
The man wasn’t convinced, a sentiment that shone clearly on his face. “Doc Adam will do it fine, since Trinique isn’t here. But I appreciate the offer.”
“Doc Adam isn’t being a doctor right now. He’s busy serving beer and rum,” she said, instantly regretting the cutting remark. She didn’t know his circumstances and he certainly didn’t deserve the professional slap. “Look, how about I just take a little look? You bring your boy inside then while I get the wound cleaned up a little, you can go and get Doc Adam.”
That seemed to appease the man, because he brushed right past Erin and ran straight to the daybed in the front room, where he laid his son down. “His name is Tyjon, and I’m Ennis. Ennis Clarke.” He extended a hand to Erin, and shook hard when she took it. “I appreciate your offer. Good afternoon, ma’am Doctor.”
Good morning. Good afternoon. Good evening. The polite, customary greeting always used when addressing others. It was expected, especially in the more rural areas such as Regina. Her father had told her about this, told her to remember it. “Good afternoon, Mr Clarke. I’ll take very good care of Tyjon.”
Apparently, Ennis Clarke trusted that, because he turned and ran out the door, which gave Erin only a few minutes to assess the boy’s foot before Adam Coulson took over. She didn’t like that idea. But, then, she had no idea what kind of doctor he was. Didn’t even know if he was a real doctor, for that matter. “So, tell me what happened, Tyjon.”
“I stepped on glass. Broken bottle in the street. Cut my foot.”
“When? This morning?”
He shook his head. “Two days ago. It wasn’t so bad then. We washed it and it was OK. But now it hurts worse. And it started to bleed some more.”
She began unwrapping the towel, trying to be gentle because the dried blood had caused it to stick to his foot. When Tyjon winced, she slowed down the process, and as she peeled back the bulky layers and got closer to the wound, the smell of infection became noticeable. “Did you wash it with soap?” she asked.
He nodded. “My mother washed it very good.”
“And did you put on shoes and socks after you washed it?”
“No, ma’am Doctor. I don’t like shoes.”
Down to the last layer, she peeled it back carefully, and what she found wasn’t good. The cut was on his heel, almost the length of his heel. Very jagged, very dirty. And swollen. There was also pus, much more than she’d expected. General redness everywhere. On top of that, his whole foot seemed warm and slightly puffy. She needed supplies, something antiseptic to start the cleaning. Antibiotics at the very least. Suture materials. But she had … nothing at all.
Erin looked around. If Trinique was a healer of some kind, maybe she had a first aid kit. “I’ll be right back, Tyjon. I need to go and find something to clean up your foot.”
Water would work for starters. Get the dirt off. Give her a better look at what she had to deal with.
In the kitchen, she filled a basin full of water, grabbed two clean dishtowels then returned to Tyjon, who was laughing over something Doc Adam had apparently told him. Adam Coulson looked up at her. Saw the basin of water. “Fetching my cleaning supplies for me?” he asked.
“What I’m fetching is a basin of water so I can begin to clean Tyjon’s foot.”
“She’s a ma’am doctor,” Ennis Clarke explained quite seriously.
“So she says,” Adam snorted, standing then walking straight over to Erin and taking the basin of water from her hands. “My bag …” He pointed to it sitting next to the door. “Find my antibiotic cream in there. If I have any left. And I probably have some suture. See if you can also come up with a vial of lidocaine, too. I’m pretty sure I have some of that.”
“Pretty sure?”
He shrugged. “Supplies aren’t easy to come by. We have to make do, sometimes.”
“How do you make do without suture? Or lidocaine?” Lidocaine hydrochloride, more specifically, was the anesthetic agent he’d inject into Tyjon to dull the pain of the stitches.
“When you don’t have it, you don’t have it. So, you improvise.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant. Wasn’t sure she even wanted to find out.
“Davion,” Adam continued, “run back to the clinic and see if I have any antibiotic cream samples there so I can give them to Ennis. I think I might have a few left. Also, bring me a syringe and a vial of penicillin.”
“Penicillin?” Nobody used that any more. There were newer, much more effective drugs on the market. Occasionally, she’d prescribed one of the penicillin derivatives, but never penicillin itself.
“Good drug,” Adam quipped. “Highly underrated today, and even more highly underused.”
“And cheap,” Davion said on his way out the door.
“Well, that, too,” Adam agreed. He dipped the kitchen towel
