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Owen stopped at the dairy farm long enough to tell Evelyn and Lowell as much as he knew, then rode for Sidhean Annie. He forced himself not to think at all, clinging desperately to Carolyn’s words, “Everything will be all right.”
By the time he arrived at the knoll, Molly had stopped the seepage of blood around the knife. John Patrick and the twins had managed to get a blanket under Daniel by rolling him first to one side then the other, and the four of them had carried him into the house and laid him on the couch. Then John Patrick sent Frank to the canyon to notify the family there.
Within half an hour, Tommy and Jane arrived. She’d been unsuccessful in persuading Tommy to wait for her brother and she was trembling. As she stepped onto the porch, the smith put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him.
“Listen t’ me, girl.” Tommy spoke calmly but there was force behind his voice. “You gotta do this. There’s nobody else. Jus’ you. We need you t’ help Dan’l, so he can tell us where Annie is. You unnerstan’?”
Jane gulped but nodded, and entered the cabin with her head held high.
She examined Daniel’s wound and found it not nearly as bad as she’d expected. It was high on his back, about four inches long but narrow and straight. The knife seemed to have glanced off the shoulder blade. It hadn’t hit the lung—if it had, the woodsman would be long dead. But when she removed the knife, copious bleeding started. She applied pressure bandages, but that didn’t control it. “We need some ice.”
“I’ll get it,” said Geordie and took off on his father’s horse. The quietest of the family, he was also the most level-headed. By the time his parents and twin had arrived, he’d lit the brazier so they’d have hot water to clean the wound, gathered all the towels he could find, found the medicine kit the doctor had given Daniel and Annie, and had taken it, a blanket and a single towel to his brother. He’d taken Daniel’s knife and cut his shirt open. With the towel he’d begun to staunch the flow of blood, giving this task to his mother when she got there.
Before Jane’s arrival, Molly had added the herb shepherd’s purse to a bowl of boiling water and let it steep. The herb was both styptic and astringent and Jane used it to clean the wound. But the bleeding, while lessened, wouldn’t stop. Molly poured what was left of the solution into the cold water they were using for compresses and prayed it would have some additional effect.
Jane was worried. The cave the Donovans used as an ice house was a few miles past the ranchhouse and it would take Geordie most of an hour to return.
Tommy looked over her shoulder at the clean, gaping wound. “I once saw my father sew a man’s leg t’gether t’ stop the bleedin’.”
Jane glanced up, surprise quickly turning to enlightenment. “They sew people up after surgery, too, don’t they? What do you remember, Tommy?”
The smith screwed his face up in concentration. “It took two of ’em. One man held the edges close t’gether while my father sewed. He used a long needle made o’ bone—boiled it first t’ clean it. An’ boiled the laces—thin rawhide laces. He sewed it loose, but the laces dried an’ pulled it tight. He used a lotta stitches close t’gether. An’ I think ‘e tied each one off as ‘e went along. The bleedin’ stopped li’l by li’l, as the stitches tightened.”
“Can you help me?”
“Sure. Anythin’ you need.”
Jane asked Molly to find a long needle and cotton thread—white, she said. She wasn’t sure what dyes were made of and the bleach that made the color of white thread consistent seemed harmless enough. She told Tommy to wash his hands then showed the smith how to use the compresses while she did the same. She had Molly boil the needle and thread, explaining their plans to her. Molly’s face blanched, but she offered her help.
So as Tommy held the gaping edges of the wound together and Jane used the needle and thread, Molly wiped away the blood that accumulated. When the job was done, the wound was still seeping, but not dangerously. Molly made a poultice of the shepherd’s purse and applied it to her son’s back, then covered it with a towel she filled with the ice Geordie brought. She sat at Daniel’s side, one hand on the towel, the other in his hair, and prayed for him and for his lovely wife.
Like Owen, she dared not think of what might have happened to Annie, except to realize she must have been taken away. She would never have left her husband’s side voluntarily. She was pregnant, she was ill, she needed treatments against the pain she suffered. But most of all, she was a creature of innocence, of joy, and Molly’s prayers grew desperate with the fear she fought against.