Let your women keep silent in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak.
And since women were not allowed to speak in church, they should not be allowed to speak on civic matters. Were they permitted to speak in heaven?
Mr. McCoy’s lips tightened. “You’re not going to die. But I have to stitch you up. We have to stop the bleeding, and I can’t wait for the surgeon. It won’t be easy for you.”
She adjusted her position and winced. “I appreciate your candor.”
He must have mistaken her words as a censure because he sighed and knelt beside the bed, then gently removed her crushed velvet hat and smoothed her damp hair from her forehead. His vivid green eyes were filled with sympathy.
A suffragist shouldn’t notice such things, and this certainly wasn’t the time or place for frivolous observations, but he really was quite handsome with his dark hair and warm, green eyes. Handsome in a swarthy kind of way. Anna exhaled a ragged breath. Her situation was obviously dire if that was the drift of her thoughts.
“Miss Bishop,” he said. “Anna. It’s your choice. I’m not a surgeon. We can wait. But it’s my educated opinion that we need to stop the bleeding.”
Every living thing died eventually—every blade of prairie grass, every mosquito, every redwood tree. She’d been wrong before—death, no matter how extraordinary a life one lived on earth, was the most ordinary thing in the world.
Feeling as though she’d regained a measure of control, Anna met his steady gaze. “Are you a very good veterinarian?”
“The best.”
He exuded an air of confidence that put her at ease. “Then, do what needs to be done.”
She barely managed to whisper the words before blackness swirled around her. She hoped he had enough fight left for both of them.
She’d trusted him. She’d trusted Caleb with her life. He prayed her trust wasn’t misplaced because the coming task filled him with dread.
After tightening the bandage on Anna’s wound, Caleb shrugged out of his coat and rolled up his sleeves. The door swung open, revealing Jo who clutched his bag to her chest. The suffragist from the rally appeared behind his sister. He’d lost sight of her earlier; his attention had been focused elsewhere, but she’d obviously been nearby.
The older woman glanced at the bed. “Where is the surgeon? Hasn’t he arrived yet?”
“I’m afraid not.” Caleb lifted a corner of the blood-soaked bandage and checked the wound before motioning for his sister. “Keep pressure on this.” He searched through his bag and began arranging his equipment on the clean towel draped over the side table. “Unless the doctor arrives in the next few minutes, I’m stitching her up myself.”
He’d brought along his case because that’s the way he always packed. When his services were needed on an extended call, he threw a change of clothing over his instruments so he wasn’t hampered by an extra bag. He’d packed for this trip the same way by rote.
Swiping the back of his hand across the perspiration beading on his forehead, he sighed. Perhaps Jo was partially right, perhaps he was growing too set in his ways.
The suffragist clenched and unclenched her hands. “You’re the veterinarian, aren’t you?”
Caleb straightened his instruments and set his jaw. Anna didn’t have time for debate. “It appears I’m the best choice you’ve got right now.”
“I’m Mrs. Franklin.” The suffragist stuck out her hand and gave his a fierce shake. “I briefly served as a nurse in the war. I can assist you.”
“Excellent.” A wave of relief flooded through him. “I’ve got alcohol, bandages and tools in my bag. There’s no ether, but I have a dose of laudanum.” He met the woman’s steady gaze. “I’m Caleb McCoy. This is my sister, JoBeth Cain.”
Mrs. Franklin tilted her head. “I thought you must be related. Those green eyes and that dark hair are quite striking.” The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “Anna is tough. She’ll do well.” She pressed both hands against her papery cheeks. “I requested her appearance. I had no idea something like this would happen.”
Jo snorted. “Of course you didn’t. Assigning blame isn’t going to stop a bullet. Caleb, tell us what to do.” She lifted a pale green corked bottle from his bag. “And why do you have laudanum, anyway?”
“Got it from the doc when John’s prize stallion kicked me last spring.” Caleb rolled his shoulder, recalling the incident with a wince. John Elder raised horses for the cavalry, and his livelihood depended upon his horses’ continued good health. Caleb’s dedication had left him with a dislocated shoulder and a nasty scar on his thigh from the horse’s sharp teeth. “I figured the laudanum might come in handy one day. I’ll need the chair. You’ll have to sit on the opposite side of the bed.”
He uncorked the still-full bottle and measured a dose into the crystal glass he’d discovered on the nightstand. Jo rested her hip on the bed and raised Miss Bishop’s shoulders. Anna moaned and pulled away.
Caleb held the glass to her lips. “This tastes foul, but you’ll appreciate the benefits.”
A fine sheen of sweat coated Miss Bishop’s forehead. Her brilliant blue eyes had glazed over, yet he caught a hint of understanding in her disoriented expression. He tipped the glass, and she took a drink, then coughed and sputtered.
“Easy there,” Caleb soothed. “Just a little more.”
Jo quirked one dark eyebrow. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to say, easy there old girl.”
Miss Bishop pushed away the glass. “This old girl has had enough.”
“Don’t go slandering my patients,” Caleb offered with a half grin. “I’ve never gotten a complaint yet.”
She flashed him a withering glance that let him know exactly what she thought of his assurances. “The next time you have a speaking patient, we’ll compare notes.”
He was heartened Miss Bishop had retained her gumption. She was going to need it.
After ensuring she’d taken the full dose, he rested the glass on the table and adjusted the pillow more comfortably behind Miss Bishop’s head. “You’ll be sound asleep in a minute. This will all be over soon.”
“I have an uneasy feeling this is only the beginning, Mr. McCoy.” She spoke hoarsely, her eyes already dulled by the laudanum.
“You’ll live to fight another day, Miss Bishop. I promise you that.”
Her head lolled to one side, and she reached for Jo. “Please, let my mother know I’m fine. I don’t want her to worry.”
While Jo offered reassurances, Caleb checked the wound once more and discovered the bleeding had slowed, granting him a much-needed reprieve. He desperately wanted to wait until the laudanum took
