The Brides of Chance Collection (102 page)

Is this the way it has to be now? We cain’t even be at the same table? There’ll be no more shared laughter or smiles so long as this keeps up—and even fewer onc’ he’s gone for good
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“Hattie!” Logan came charging up on an unfamiliar horse.

“Not now, Logan.” She bent over the laundry and surreptitiously dried her eyes.

“Now, Hattie.” Logan’s tone brooked no argument. “Get your satchel while I saddle up Legs. Rooster stumbled into a bear trap and shot himself in the foot, trying to get free.”

Hattie sprung into action, running to the storeroom and pulling down anything she thought she could possibly use. She grabbed the entire bolt of clean white gauze Lovejoy had sent, along with every cleanser and calming powder she could lay a hand to. Every yarb known to stop blood flow found its way into a bag.

She had tweezers and a magnifying glass in her satchel. The most she’d ever used them for was a splinter, but today they’d be needed for much more. Needles and strong thread lay at the ready. She grabbed clean bandages and her cloak and headed out the door. Logan already stood there with Legs. She tied her bags to the saddle, and he lifted her up. She refused to dwell on the warmth of his hands on her waist. Now wasn’t the time to think of such things.

They galloped all the way to the Linden place, and Hattie could hear the yells for half a mile before they got there. A bloody makeshift stretcher lay outside the door. Hattie rushed past it to get inside.

Nessie was pressed against the far wall, her hands over her mouth as she watched her father fight Bryce and the Trevor boys. He shouted nonsense about how they all wanted to kill him. The moment Hattie drew near, she could detect the odor of moonshine underlying the smell of blood.

“He passed out while we carried him,” Bryce grunted, trying to hold Rooster down. “But he came to not long ago and won’t lie still. He’s making the bleeding worse.”

She looked at the blood-soaked sheets around Rooster’s mangled leg and knew there wasn’t a moment to lose. As quickly as she could, Hattie doused a rag with ether and held it against Rooster’s nose and mouth. He looked at her with wild eyes and clawed at her arms before he passed out.

“Nessie, I need you to get some strong rope—as much of it as you cain find.” Hattie rolled up her sleeves. “I’m going to need you boys to tie him down. Even unconscious, he’ll jerk around while I try to staunch the bleeding and clean his wounds. I’ll have to find and remove the bullet if it didn’t pass clean through.”

Hattie applied pressure to the leg to stop the bleeding. The bottom half of Rooster’s right shin was shredded from the teeth of the trap and looked to be fractured in at least two places.

His foot was in slightly better shape. “Looks like the bullet shot straight through the side of his instep.”

“Lucky shot iff ’n ever there was one,” Ted thought aloud.

“God was merciful,” Logan murmured.

His opinion took Hattie by surprise. Most folks would think Rooster deserved this; Logan’s compassion for a drunk made her glad of his help. A sickbed ought to be a place of healing, not of judgment.

“Leg’s busted up, Hattie,” Logan observed.

“It’s too swoll up to set. I’ll have to tend the wounds for now. In a day or two, I’ll need to set and splint it.” Hattie cleaned the wounds with water before applying a witch hazel wash. Then she brought out the needle to stitch up the deep gashes along his leg. He’d obviously tried to yank himself free of the trap.

Hours later she wrapped the leg in bandages and sat back. Rooster slept fitfully but couldn’t move enough to hurt his leg. “Breathing looks fairly steady,” Logan judged.

“Iff ’n we cain keep the wounds from festerin’ and set them bones, might be he gets through jist fine,” she replied. She looked Logan in the eye before delivering her warning. “The real trouble will come when he wakes up.”

Chapter 23

N
essie,” Hattie said, “you go tell Miz Willow what’s happenin’. She’s been at the Ruckers’ today. And take yore nightdress. I want you to stay the night and holp Daisy with Miz Willow and Jamie.” Hattie tried her best to keep Nessie away from the worst of Rooster’s treatment. Logan suspected if the young woman stayed, Hattie would have another patient.

Logan took his cue from her. “Ted, Fred, you were a great help. I think we have things under control here now.”

They looked to Hattie, who nodded her approval.

“We’ll walk Nessie on o’er to Miz Willow,” Ted said. They took their leave.

Hattie spent the next hours pouring water down Rooster’s throat, though he mostly slept through the night. It must have been the combination of the moonshine he’d so obviously been drinking before the accident, the ether she’d used before looking at the wound, the intense pain he suffered, and the lady slipper root tea she trickled into his mouth. Whatever the reason, Rooster slept.

Hattie sat for a while in a straight-back chair, her knees drawn up to her chest as she watched Rooster fight off some unknown demon in his dreams. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Logan was looking at her.

“Go lie down, Hattie.” He spoke softly so as not to wake Bryce. “I’m watching him. You need to sleep—you’ve done the best you can for Rooster. I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

Too tired to argue, Hattie nodded gratefully. “You done good tonight. I couldn’t of done this without yore holp.”

“We’ll keep watch, Hattie. You sleep.”

“You’ll wake me?” she asked again.

“You can count on me.”

Hattie collapsed onto the pallet and fell asleep immediately. Logan watched her. She seemed so peaceful, so fragile for the work she did. He and the Trevors had been all but certain the leg would have to be amputated, but she’d worked for hours to save it. Even now, tuckered out as she was, she somehow found the strength to get up every hour or so to check Rooster’s bandages and pour some kind of tea down his throat. Logan guessed the tea was to help the man sleep.

“I cain’t marry you and leave my people.”

Her words from the night before echoed in his mind. She was right. He hadn’t thought about what he was asking of her. How could he have imagined that the woman who cared so deeply about everyone around her—the woman he’d fallen in love with— would leave them without a healer?

Logan saw Rooster’s eyelids flicker and went to wake Hattie up. When she first opened her eyes, the soft smile that spread across her face melted his heart. Then it faded. She sat up quickly.

“How is he?” She rushed over to the bed.

“I think he’s coming around.” Logan moved to stand at her side.

Hattie felt Rooster’s forehead with her hand and frowned. “He’s hot. I’ll give him something for the fever along with the calming powder. The longer he sleeps, the better.” She bustled over to the fire and started brewing the tea before returning to check Rooster’s leg.

“How does it look?” Logan held his breath while he waited for the answer. The thought that Rooster might lose his leg was bad enough without the knowledge of how hard Hattie had worked to avoid that very thing.

“Like he tangled with a bear trap.” Hattie began dabbing at the wounds with something. “It’s bad, but so long as we keep infection away, he has a chance. The other problem is that I cain’t splint it much beyond the knee, so although he cain’t bend the leg, he cain still move around a bit. If the bones don’t set to heal over the fractures, he’ll never walk on it again, no matter what else I manage to do. I’ll be able to apply a splint better in a few days, onc’t the swellin’ goes down, but for now I’ll have to watch him.”

“Bryce and I will help you,” Logan offered. “Nessie will be back during the day.”

“I know. But it’s not jist his leg we’ll be dealing with, Logan.” She sounded as though she were girding for battle.

“Oh?”

“While he’s healing, he cain’t drink. He don’t have the strength to fight the headaches and the vomiting after he’s been drunk,” she explained. “He has to keep down enough to holp him heal.”

“He can’t move, so he doesn’t have much of a choice,” Logan reasoned. Still, Rooster would be hurting badly for want of a drink. It wouldn’t be a pretty sight.

“I’ve brung everything I cain to holp with him wanting likker.” She gestured toward the bags lying around the room. “But you cain be shore he’ll try to get up and get to it any way he cain—even if it means he’ll never walk again. Moonshine’s got that strong a hold on him. He’ll need watchin’ ’round the clock.” She looked at him with tired eyes. “If he pulls through this, it’ll have to be body and soul. It ain’t jist his leg that needs healing, Logan.”

“I’m here, Hattie.” Logan could only hope she heard him with her heart and not just her ears. “I’m here.”

The days melted into each other, each as difficult as the last. Hattie hardly stepped foot out of Rooster’s cabin. She slept in snatches on Nessie’s pallet while Logan and Bryce took turns watching Rooster. Some nights she couldn’t sleep until she poured enough calming tea down Rooster’s throat to make him sleep first.

He slipped in and out of consciousness, alternating between fevers and chills, his body sweating out the poisons he’d been guzzling far too long. He twisted and turned, yelled and cussed, begged and pleaded for a drink. He brought up almost every drop Hattie managed to get down into him.

Many times he shouted in his delirium, calling for people who’d long left this world or breaking into off-key snatches of songs. There was nothing she could do but keep pouring various medicines down his throat to help with the nausea, headache, fevers, and pain. Eventually she was able to splint his leg fully, the fear of swelling and renewed bleeding subsiding with time and treatment.

Through it all, Logan never left Hattie’s side. Regardless of the blood, sweat, yells, and never-ending mess, he stuck with her.

“Rooster, no talking like that. Miz Hattie’s a lady. Here, I’ll help you.” Time and again, Logan stepped in. He never once lost his temper—which stunned her. She still recalled his smoldering anger the first day he’d met Rooster. Now he showed firm resolve mixed with Christian mercy and abiding respect in dealing with the man.

Often Logan escorted Hattie to the door and gently nudged her outside when it came to basic or messy matters. “I’ll take care of it, Hattie.” He was her anchor in the storm, strong and protective, making sure she got enough sleep and food so she could continue.

I wouldn’t have gotten this far with anybody else
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The realization of how much she needed Logan shook her to the core. She didn’t have time to look at it too deeply, but Hattie knew that when all of this was over, she’d still have to face a future without Logan Chance.

Hattie amazed him. Through the entire week and more, she’d relentlessly fought to save Rooster Linden from himself. She’d held the man’s hand as he cried for liquor, gave him calming tea when he swore and thrashed against his constraints, filling the air with words the likes of which Logan would never want any woman to hear. Hattie returned Rooster’s curses with prayers.

She slept little, grabbing catnaps when Rooster wore himself out. Curls sprang free from Hattie’s loosened braid to hang around a pale face. Dark circles beneath her eyes tattled about how weary she’d grown, yet her dignity and determination never waned. Logan had never seen a woman so beautiful.