It was late afternoon when Captain Willard rode to each wagon giving updates and laying out plans for the evening stop. When he came to the Douglas', he said Indians were following the train and to be extra alert. Then he rode to the back of the bonnet and asked, "How’s the boy?"
"We've cleaned his wounds the best we can, but it doesn't look good Captain," answered Mrs. Douglas. “If there’s a willow tree where we stop for the night, I’ll gather a supply of willow bark and make a strong tea. It’ll help break his fever and ease his pain. I also need to sew up the gashes on the boy’s cheek, but I don’t think the wound can be completely sewn closed because of the rotten skin. I don’t know what we can do about the infection, Captain. It looks terrible.”
"We'll be stopping within the hour," reported the captain. "If it's all right with you, Mr. Meyers can examine the boy when we stop. He did some doctoring during the war."
The captain was riding off when Liz jumped from the wagon and yelled, "His name is Bart, Captain! Bart Carter!" The captain turned in his saddle and called back, "That's a good name, Liz, a good name."
The location for the evening’s stop was ideal. Willow trees lined a small stream flowing with cool, clear water. Captain Willard directed the wagons into a tight circle, placing the Douglas' next to the tree line. The livestock was taken to the creek to drink and then restricted in a nearby area with lush grass where they immediately started grazing. Men and boys filled water containers and gathered firewood from fallen tree limbs. Some of the wood would be used for their evening cook fires and some for the fire that would burn all night in the center of the wagon circle. Coffee was put on and utensils unpacked for the evening meal.
Liz and her mother were standing by their wagon when Captain Willard and Mr. Meyers walked up. "Why don't we move Bart outside onto the soft sand?" asked the captain.
After men had carried Bart from the wagon, Mr. Myers asked Liz to take the boy’s boots off. When Liz removed the boots, she noticed they were extremely heavy, so she looked inside them. She was stunned at what she saw and immediately carried the heavy boots to the wagon. “Mama, can you come here for a minute?” Liz called from the wagon’s bonnet. When Mrs. Douglas crawled inside the wagon, she saw twenty-four twenty-dollar gold pieces lying on the floor beside Bart’s boots. "Where did that money come from, Liz?" her mother asked.
"It was in his boots," the girl replied. "They were extra heavy when I pulled them off, so I looked inside and saw the coins. I didn't want anyone to know what I’d found, so I brought them to the wagon and emptied them here. What should we do with the money, Mama?"
"Put it in the bag with his other money for now. When your father comes back, we'll ask him for a safe hiding place." Liz placed the newfound coins in Bart's sack, and then Liz and her mother returned to Bart’s side.
After examining Bart, Meyers stood with a sober expression and shook his head in a negative manner. "The boy will never make it. He can't last two days."
"That's not true!" exclaimed Liz, in a hysterical voice. "He's going to live. I know he will. You're all just standing around…Captain, we must do something. Let Mama try to cure his wounds.”
Captain Willard hesitated but stepped forward. "I agree with Liz. We must try something. Meyers, what's his best possible chance?"
"I don't think nursing alone will save the boy because his injury has dead tissue around it, causing his terrible sickness. His only chance is to cut away the dead flesh and cauterize the wound with a red-hot iron."
"Are you sure that's the only way?" asked Douglas. "It'll leave him with a terrible scar."
"It's the only procedure I know of with any possible chance of success.” Meyers was silent for a spell and then continued. “We need to stitch the live tissue closed before the cutting begins. Mrs. Douglas, can you perform this procedure?”
Alice Douglas gave a nod and then started giving orders. “Herb, I’ll need two long hairs from a horse’s tail. Put them in a pan of boiling water for a couple minutes. Liz, get the water started.” While Liz and her father were doing their job, Mrs. Douglas went for her curved sewing needle.
After Douglas had plucked the horse hairs and placed them into the pan of boiling water, he went to the wagon for a straight-line branding iron and placed it in the fire. Mrs. Douglas returned from the wagon with the needle and placed it in the hot water. She also brought several pieces of material to absorb blood when the cutting began. Meyers returned with two surgical knives and a bottle of whiskey.
Thirty minutes later, Mrs. Douglas had completed her sewing job. She had been able to sew about a third of the boy’s injury closed, but the skin around the remainder of the gash was too rotten. Fortunately, she was able to close the gash that opened into his mouth.
The iron was starting to get red when Douglas pulled the captain aside and asked, "Captain, would you take Liz for a walk, so she can't see what's coming? It will be hard for grown-ups, let alone a young girl."
The tip of the iron was red. It was time. Liz was reluctant to leave but finally agreed to walk with the captain. Mrs. Douglas placed a rolled-up cloth, six inches long and an inch in diameter, between Bart's teeth. Meyers picked up his knives, doused them with whiskey, and took a drink to settle his nerves.
"I need five men to hold him down—one for each leg, one for each arm, and one to hold his head still," ordered the surgeon. Immediately, five men stepped forward. "Mrs. Douglas, be prepared to soak up the blood with your cloths when the cutting begins. I'll have to cut into live flesh where the blood is flowing, in order to cut away all the bad tissue. Douglas, be ready to hand me the iron. Men hold him as still as possible. He’ll try to move when the cutting begins."
It was obvious Meyers had used an operating knife before as he cut a deep, careful incision around the wound. Blood gushed out but was quickly wiped clean with the cloths. Bart jerked a few times but was relatively still. "Douglas, hand me the iron. And men, hold tight." Meyers laid the red-hot rod on the injury. Smoke rose and the odor of burning, human flesh filled the air. Three of the men restraining Bart looked away, and two threw up, but they continued to hold the boy. Bart's screams were heard by everyone in the camp. Even the Indians who were camped two miles upstream heard the screams. Bart was motionless when Meyers poured whiskey on the wound.
Mrs. Douglas wiped sweat from the surgeon’s forehead as he sat on the wagon’s tongue, shaking like a leaf. Liz came running up. "Is he all right? I heard a scream! Will he live?”
"We don't know yet, Liz. It's a long shot," her mother said. “If he lives for three or four days and the fever breaks, there's a chance.”
"He'll live. I know he will. We need to have faith. I'll take real good care of him. I'll never leave his side." Liz broke into sobs as she turned to the boy.
For some reason, Liz's words were convincing. Bystanders eyed one another, and nodded their heads in agreement—the boy would surely live.