Laura kept the walking sticks nearby as she limped around the examination room, damp cloth in hand. Doc Micah had been taking patients all morning, and even though he cleaned up after himself, the place needed a thorough scrubbing at least every day or two. At least Doc Micah didn’t make as much mess as Dr. Stanley had, but the older physician had left Settler’s Fort at the end of summer when his health began to decline. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to spend the rest of his days nearer his children and grandchildren.
But now all the doctoring fell on Doc Micah’s shoulders, and Laura did her best to help wherever she could. It was the least she could do in return for the room and board, as well as the safety, that the doc and Ingrid gave her. But since she’d been forced to stay in bed the day before with her injured leg propped up, she’d not been able to do this task that normally fell to her. Ingrid would have taken it on gladly, had she been in her usual condition.
She and Doc Micah had a baby coming. What joy would fill the Bradleys’ home and clinic. An infant would add a fair amount of work to Ingrid’s life, making Laura’s help all the more needed both in the clinic and with household duties. Was helping the sick and injured the purpose she’d been looking for? The fresh start—the new life—she’d craved? Maybe. Unfortunately, God hadn’t sent a host of angels to fill the sky as He’d done with the shepherds at the birth of Jesus.
Make my path clear, Lord.
“Miss Hannon?” Doc Micah called from the hallway.
“Yes?” She laid the cloth on the work counter, then propped the walking sticks under her arms.
“Would you be able to come in here and sit while you assist me?” He appeared in the doorway, but seeing her already hobbling toward the door caused the strong lines of his face to tighten with concern. “I’m not sure you should be up and about so much. I’ll do the cleaning when I finish with Aaron.”
“My leg is much better.” Laura waved him off. Thankfully, this didn’t seem to be a full sprain. Already the swelling had gone down. With poor Ingrid usually either in bed or emptying the contents of her stomach into a washbasin, the doctor would have his hands full for the coming weeks.
Laura straightened and pressed on a smile through the pain. She had to carry as much load as she could. If not, Doc Micah would likely shoulder all the work, whether it was too much for one man to manage or not.
“I’m preparing to cut the cast from Mr. Long’s leg. If you can sit nearby and be ready to assist as needed, I’d appreciate it. You should be able to stay seated the whole time.” His gaze weighed heavily on her, judging whether this job would be too uncomfortable for her to take part in.
Likely his worry was not mainly about her ankle, but whether the sight of the wound would turn her stomach. Nay, the challenge in this role would be whether she could force away her guilt over the fact that she’d been the one to inflict the awful shattering of bone, the mangling of flesh, the loss of so much lifeblood that he’d taken weeks to regain proper coloring. Even now, Aaron maintained a pallor that proved he wasn’t well, neither in body nor soul.
Though her insides churned, she forced in a steadying breath and nodded, avoiding the doctor’s eyes. “Certainly.”
“Come along if you’re sure, then.” He waited for her to swing past on the walking sticks, then fell into step behind. The devices were cumbersome and pressed hard into the tender flesh under her arms. Ingrid had said this was the exact pair she’d used when her leg bone had been crushed in a wagon accident on her journey to Settler’s Fort.
Apparently, that injury was when she’d first met the doctor, and the story Ingrid told of that journey seemed almost too fantastic to be believable. But the love between the pair that had grown out of the adventure drifted like a sweet mist through their home.
Laura held in a sigh. If only she could find a man who looked at her—who treasured her—the way Doctor Micah Bradley regarded his wife. If she could be married to such a man, working alongside him toward a common goal, would she then find the meaning in life she so desperately wanted?
But she hadn’t found that elusive man, and she refused to put her life on hold until she did—if she did. She had to pursue meaningful work on her own. Had she found her purpose here at the clinic? Some days it felt that way, but other times . . .
“Here she is.” The doctor’s voice filled the small bedchamber as they entered. “Now we can get started.”
Aaron sat on the bed, his casted leg extending in front of him. A clean blanket had been placed under the limb, probably to catch stray plaster and other bits that fell away as they removed the cast. The other tools lay in a neat array at the foot of the bed, including a saw that looked as though it could slice through bone as easily as plaster. Laura cringed at the thought.
A quick glance at Aaron’s face showed his jaw was a hard line, and his skin held an even paler hue than usual. He had to be nervous. Removing the cast would show them how well the bone was healing. Whether the leg would heal well enough to bear his weight, or if he’d forever be confined to a chair and walking sticks.
Dear God, let the bone have healed. Please.
If she’d forever maimed this man and altered the course of his life with her single quick reaction, could she ever forgive herself? Would Aaron ever forgive her?
Being around Aaron these last months had been hard enough, but at least she’d been able to help care for him. Small acts of penance, but something still.
Yet, if he could never walk again . . . how could she make that up to him? What if he ended up like Robbie? Oh God. An image flared in her mind of the stump that had replaced her brother’s leg, then his lifeless body after he chose to end it all. She had to keep Aaron from spiraling like her little brother had. No matter what she had to do.
As the doctor bent over Aaron’s leg, she sat on the opposite side of the bed, within easy reach of the tools. From there, she could catch the cast when it fell away.
“Should he take something for the pain first?” The bone had caused Aaron no shortage of agony through the healing process, although not as much lately. But removing the plaster holding the limb secure might introduce fresh discomfort.
“It will itch a great deal as the blood flow is renewed, but I’d like to see how much pain he has before we mask it.” The doctor took up the saw with the fierce teeth, and her stomach clenched. He positioned the tool at the bottom of the cast near Aaron’s foot. “We’ll start down here and work our way up.”
The tension mounted with each minute the doctor sawed. Each steady critch critch scraped across her raw nerves. It seemed like an hour passed as the saw broke through the thick plaster at the foot, then worked its way along the leg toward the critical place at Aaron’s thigh.
Only once did she glance up at their patient. The sheen of sweat glimmering on his brow had formed a trickle down one temple. His eyes were closed, as though he couldn’t bear to see what lay beneath the hard encasement. A burn crept behind her own eyes.
She didn’t blame him. As much as she, too, wanted to know whether his leg would heal, maybe not knowing would be better. Perhaps living in hopeful ignorance was better than the murder of hope if the bone had not healed.
After all, when a section of bone the width of two of her fingers was shattered in hundreds of fragments, how could they think the body would grow that much new bone? How could it reattach strongly enough to bridge the gap?
God made the human body to heal itself from so many illnesses and injuries, but surely a devastation of this magnitude would require nothing short of a divine touch to restore the leg to its former use—or even make it passably functional.
And it was all her fault. Hot tears pressed behind her eyes.
As Doc Micah sawed through the last section of plaster, a layer of sweat formed across his own brow. She reached over and grasped the cast at the knee, holding it still to better allow the doctor to work.
The saw broke through the final layer with a jolt, and a deep groan slipped from Aaron. Laura had to grab at the cast with her other hand to keep both sides from falling out of her grasp. The thing was heavy.
The doctor took a deep breath, then released it, and she could feel the weight of his anticipation was as thick as her own. The result of Aaron’s healing would have little bearing on the doctor’s skill. How much could a physician truly do to repair a shattered limb, anyway? Yet, the welfare of his patients weighed heavily on him. He spent himself fully to give them the best quality of life possible.
Heart thumping in her chest, Laura helped lift the leg as the doctor spread the cast down the limb and over Aaron’s foot. The thin layer of cloth that remained had protected his skin from the rough plaster and also covered the damaged area, so she couldn’t tell for sure whether the thighbone looked straight. The limb definitely looked smaller than before, but that was to be expected with no use of the muscle these past two months.
The doctor glanced up at her. “You may go now. Thank you.” He would need to remove the last layer and reveal skin to assess the bone, and maybe that would be improper for her to see.
But then he’d also need to have Aaron try to stand, to determine whether the leg could bear weight. He’d need her there to help with that. A glance at Aaron’s face was almost her undoing. With his jaw set like that, he looked so much like his brother.
She pulled her gaze back to the doctor and gave him her most competent look. “I’ll turn away while you inspect the bone, but I’ll stay to help when he stands.”
The doctor hesitated only a moment, then nodded and focused on the leg again. The doctor was a reasonable and practical man, two traits she could respect, especially if they allowed her to be here to find out the news firsthand about the damage she’d caused. No matter how many times Doc Micah or Ingrid told her she wasn’t at fault for Aaron’s injury, she couldn’t stop the need to do what she could to help his recovery.
She turned away from them, staring at the simple bureau positioned by the side wall. Instead of listening to the quiet rustling sounds coming from the pair behind her and the shaky breaths coming from Aaron, she focused on the drawers. Three, with simple round wooden knobs. The center drawer sat slightly askew, its corners not in perfect alignment with those above and below.
Did Aaron use them for anything? When he’d been part of the group that kidnapped her and little Samuel, Aaron had carried a bedroll and saddle packs. He’d also had a saddle and horse, and the hideout they’d taken her to had been stuffed with crates and piles of stolen goods.
She’d heard Lanton, the mercantile owner who was acting as Settler’s Fort’s lawman until a new sheriff could be found, had wired all the other towns in the surrounding areas to get a list of items stolen over the years. Everything possible had been recovered and given back to the original owners. Had the personal possessions of the gang members been sold to help pay back what they owed in restitution? Probably. Joanna, little Samuel’s mother and Laura’s first friend in Settler’s Fort, had said Nate would be working for a long time to pay back that debt.
“Does that hurt?”
The doctor’s words pulled her from her wandering thoughts. Remembering those days always brought a crushing tightness to her chest and a churning in her middle. But focusing again on the life-changing event happening behind her was hardly helpful.
Aaron grunted, probably in response to the doctor’s question. Had he nodded or shaken his head no? She had to fight to keep from turning to look at his face.
“All right. Let’s see you stand.” The doctor’s voice held no hint of what he’d learned so far. “Miss Hannon, you can come around if you’d like.”
She spun to face them. The doctor lifted Aaron’s injured leg from the bed, then helped him turn and lower the foot to the floor.
After scrambling up, she fit the walking sticks under her arms and limped around the foot of the bed so she could stand on Aaron’s other side.
The doctor stood and moved to Aaron’s left arm. “Now, we’re going to ease up very slowly.” He put extra emphasis on the last two words. “Keep all your weight on your good leg first. Once you’re standing, we’ll slowly shift some of the weight to both legs.”
She laid her walking sticks against the bed and prepared her hands to grab Aaron’s arm if he needed help balancing. She was on his good side, so balance should be all he needed.
Aaron’s face turned to a mask of concentration as he braced both fists on the bed and pushed himself up. His body hovered halfway up at the point where he’d need to remove his hands. The doctor grabbed an elbow on his side, and Laura did the same. Though Aaron’s arm wasn’t the solid block of iron it had once been, his upper arm still possessed a fair amount of strength. The muscles flexed in her hands as he straightened to full standing.
After he stood for a moment, balancing, the doctor spoke again. “Now, shift a little weight onto your left side and tell me how it feels.”
She couldn’t breathe as she studied Aaron’s face for signs of pain as he did what Doc Micah said. The outline of his jawbone showed clearly under his skin, and the tendons strained as he grimaced. His arm trembled under her touch. From concentration or pain?
“Does that hurt?” The doctor’s voice was sharp, as though Aaron wasn’t following orders.
A grunt was the man’s only response.
Then his body jerked. It happened so fast, Laura couldn’t do anything but grip Aaron’s arm, pulling upward with all her might as he tumbled forward and sideways, away from her.
Onto his injured leg.
The doctor cried out—or maybe that was Aaron—and Micah struggled to keep their patient from tumbling all the way to the floor. Tendons in the doctor’s neck stood out like cords as he heaved Aaron up, then helped him ease back down on the bed.
Aaron sat with his head dropped, his legs tangled in front of him, and hopelessness sagging his entire frame.