Amy Lake Read Free

her own beds, and she would certainly appreciate Dee’s presence as the man recovered or—’twas also possible—as he died.
     

Chapter 3: Infection and Fever
     
    Fiona walked slowly back to the kitchen and stood at the table, forgetting for a moment why she was there. Tea, she decided, and put the kettle on the fire. Sighing, she rubbed her eyes in weariness.
    It had been a difficult week, with the days running one into the next until it become difficult to remember when she had not lived with a gravely injured man in her home. That first evening—had it been only a sennight ago?—the men had managed to carry the stranger safely back to the cottage where, to Fiona’s relief, Dee was waiting with Madelaine. Dee was Deandros Fischer, the local doctor, and he took charge at that point. They laid the man in Fiona’s best spare bedroom, boots and all, on a bed that looked hardly long enough to accommodate him.
    “Maddie,” said Dee. “Go to the stables and stay there with Jeremy.”
    “But—”
    “Don’t argue,” said Fiona, and Madelaine left.
    “I’m going to cut off his boots, first.”
    “Gad,” said Hobbs. “He won’t thank you for it.”
    “If he lives, he will.”
    “Be worth half a fortune, them boots.”
    “I’m guessing this man can buy another pair. Are you ready for this?” the doctor added, glancing at Fiona.
    She nodded, refusing to admit that she’d be happier joining Maddie in the stables.
    “Hold him, then.”
    Fiona and Hobbs held the man’s shoulders to the bed as Dee cut through the leather of the boots and removed them as gently as possible. He started on the fabric of the right trouser leg. The break—in the lower leg—did not look as bad as she expected, and there was no sign of bone showing through the skin, which is what Fiona had feared the most.
    But the doctor shook his head.
    “The skin is broken,” he said, pointing to a long gash above the knee that was still oozing blood. “We’ll set it anyway, but his chances of infection—”
    He looked up at Hobbs and Fiona. “No point in wasting time.”
    Fiona took a breath. Dee felt carefully along the front and back of the leg; then he braced himself and began to pull.
    “ No !” The sound was not a scream so much as a roar. The man half woke and fought to sit up.
    “ Hold him!” yelled the doctor.
    They tried, Fiona unable to block her ears against the horrible sounds of a leg being set. Even injured the stranger was powerful, and he battled them every inch of the way, obviously not in his right mind. It was over quickly. Afterwards Dee splinted the leg and cleaned the wound while Fiona, shaking, went to make up a poultice of white willow bark. When she returned she found the men in serious discussion.
    “I’ll stay here tonight,” Dr. Fischer was saying.
    “Eh.” Hobbs looked doubtful. “There be no need for it. I’ll be right out in the stables.”
    “That’s not enough. Do you want her here alone if he wakes up?”
    Despite the unpleasantness of what had just occurred, Fiona smiled to herself. Hobbs’ concern was, apparently, over the look of the thing. A young widow and a single man in a house together for the length of an entire night? Horrors! The single man in question was Dr. Fischer, of course, as an unconscious and half-dead stranger did not count for much even in Hobbs’ mind. No matter that most of the village had been attempting to marry off Dee and Fiona for years— The rest thought that the doctor would be better suited to Stephie, Mrs. Cadogan’s niece, or one of the Everett girls, but neither group had any truck with an overnight stay.
    Still, she made the attempt. “It’s fine, Hobbs,” said Fiona. “Dr. Fischer has a patient, who just happens to be residing here.”
    “Eh,” said Hobbs, unconvinced.
    Deandros Fischer had grown up in the village of Barley Mow, as had Fiona, and they’d known each other their entire lives. He had left to take medical studies at St. Andrews and