“I’ll be ready for your help,” Tom answered. “Shut the door.”
Billy did so, and Tom scrubbed his hands a bit longer, watching out the window until Billy led Bullet into the barn. Then he dried his hands with one of the clean towels, gathered the other towels and the knife, and walked into the bedroom.
Struggling through an overwhelmingly thick fog almost wore her out before she’d even opened her eyes, and when she did, the man standing over her, one she’d never seen before, only made Clara close her eyes again. She must be dreaming. Had to be, because even though her leg ached, there wasn’t the intense pain of before.
“You feeling better, Ma?”
Billy’s voice was so clear in her dream it made her smile.
“You’re smiling, so you must be feeling better.”
The idea that she might not be dreaming had her pulling her eyelids open. That took effort because they fought her again. When she won the battle and saw Billy, her first instinct was to smile again. He was such a good boy, and she loved him with all her heart. Without him, she wouldn’t have a reason to live.
“You are feeling better, Ma. I can tell,” he said, grinning. “This here is Tom. Tom Baniff. He cut your leg and put cayenne pepper on it. Then he poured whiskey all over you.”
The stranger appeared again, standing next to Billy. This certainly was a silly dream. Only in a dream would a stranger cut her leg and put cayenne pepper and whiskey on her. Cut her leg... A cold shiver rippled over her entire being.
She forced her eyes to remain open, although she blinked several times to chase away the blurriness. Then, as the room became clearer, she glanced around, giving her mind time to catch up and solidify the fact that she wasn’t dreaming.
The man was tall and broad, with shiny black hair and eyes as brown as coffee. He was smiling, too. A friendly smile. He must be a doctor. The exact thing she’d needed.
“The infection?” she asked.
“Is clearing up nicely.”
His voice was deep but gentle at the same time.
“My leg?”
“Is almost back to being the same size as the other one,” he said. “That was quite the infection you had.”
Her thoughts became clearer with each minute that ticked by. “The cayenne pepper worked,” she said. “My uncle said my grandmother did that to him once. Put cayenne pepper on an infected wound. He said he screamed. That it burned.”
“You didn’t scream,” the man said.
She closed her eyes for a moment, as thankful for the fact that she couldn’t remember the pain as she was that she hadn’t screamed. That would have frightened Billy, which was why she’d been putting off lancing the leg herself. It would have scared the dickens out of Billy, and there had been the chance she may have passed out from the pain. As she lifted a hand to feel her forehead, the pungent scent of whiskey filling her nose made her cringe.
“I had to get your fever down,” the man said. “The alcohol in the whiskey did the trick.”
The sheet was tucked beneath her arms, but she could tell the only things she wore were her shift and bloomers. A heat as hot as her fever had been rushed into her cheeks.
“Nothing to worry about, ma’am,” he said. “Billy’s helped me take care of you the entire time.”
She released a breath, knowing such thoughts of decorum were insignificant. “How did you know I was ill?”
“You fell off the chair when I opened the door,” Billy said. “’Member? I thought it was Pa and you said it wasn’t.”
She balled her hands into fists to hide how they instantly started shaking at the memories coming forth. Thankful it hadn’t been Hugh riding in, she glanced at the window, the east window where the shining sun showed it was still on the rise, making it no later than midmorning. Confused, she asked, “Was that yesterday? I—I was out all night.”
“No,” the man said, “that was four days ago.”
She bolted upright, and the blood rushing to her head had her grasping her forehead.
“Whoa, there,” the man said, gently forcing her to lie back down.
Once her head was on the pillow again, and the room stopped spinning, she said, “Surely not four days. You must be mistaken.”
“I’m not mistaken.”
Covering her eyes with one hand, hoping that would somehow help her to remember, she shook her head. “I couldn’t have slept for four days.”
“You were really sick, ma’am,” he said. “Really sick. Would you like to see your leg?”
She removed the hand from her eyes. “Yes, please.”
He flipped the bottom corner of the sheet aside and mixed emotions filled her. The swelling was considerably less, as was the pain, but the healing that had clearly taken place confirmed what he’d said. She’d been asleep for four days. Billy had been alone with a stranger for four days. Her skin quivered as she glanced toward her son, who was grinning from ear to ear.
“It looks much better than the last time I saw it,” she said.
“Like four days of healing?” the man asked.
She pinched her lips together. There was a hint of teasing in his tone, but also affirmation that he hadn’t been lying when he said how much time had passed. The yellow color of the bruising confirmed it was old, as did the scabs that now covered her first wound as well as the two slashes that had been made to drain the infection. “Yes,” she admitted. “It looks like it’s been healing for a few days already.”
“Healing nicely,” he said. “But now that you’re awake, we need to get some food in you.”
“We have some eggs boiling,” Billy said. “Tom can cook, Ma. Almost as good as you. And we’ve kept the cows milked and skimmed the cream off the top, just like you always do.”
“I’ll make you some tea to go with your eggs,” the man said. “Do you think you can sit up? Slowly this time?”
She nodded, and carefully sat up enough for him to put another pillow behind her. Having a man be so caring was uncomfortable, yet she was grateful. Without him, she may not be here. “Thank you.”
He gave her a nod, and winked one eye that was charming enough it made her heart thud unexpectedly.
“We’ll be back shortly with that tea and an egg,” he said, laying a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Won’t we, Billy?”
“Yes, sir. We’ll be right back, Ma.”
The
