Like a River Glorious Read Free

calm and soothing, like bullets haven’t just been flying willy-nilly.
    â€œYou’re all the doc we need,” the Major says. He taps his wooden leg against a rock. Jasper amputated the Major’s leg to save his life on our journey west.
    The strange man’s voice rings out from the trees. “Didn’t mean to hurt nobody! It were an accident!”
    â€œWell, you shouldn’t be shooting at stuff if you’re so cussed bad at it!” I holler back, and Jasper gives me a dark glance that looks so much like Mama’s stop-antagonizing-people-or-else face that it puts a lump in my chest.
    Jefferson hisses as Jasper starts poking around. I refuse to look at the wound, focusing instead on Jeff’s pale face. “You’re going to be fine,” I tell him, though I’ve no idea if it’s true.
    â€œCourse I am,” he says through clenched teeth, but he reaches for my hand. I grab it and squeeze tight.
    Olive hurries back, blond braids swinging, Jasper’s medicine chest banging against her knees. The chest is nearly halfthe size of the girl, and it’s a wonder she lugged it here so fast.
    Jasper pours water from his canteen over Jefferson’s flank. Though I’ve never had a stomach for injuries, I can’t help glancing at the wound. It’s a jagged tear in the skin, still bleeding freely, but it’s small. Jefferson was right. The bullet just grazed him, taking a chunk of skin with it.
    â€œYou are going to be just fine,” I say in relieved wonder.
    â€œTold you so,” Jefferson says.
    Jasper follows the water with a liberal dose of Hawe’s Healing Extract, but I turn away when he pulls out a wicked needle and some thread.
    Olive, on the other hand, stares transfixed. “That’s how I sewed Dolly’s pinafore,” she says.
    â€œSkin feels a little different than calico under the needle,” Jasper says to her. “But if you can sew a pinafore, you can stitch a wound.”
    Jefferson’s fingers squeeze the bones of my hand together as the needle pierces his skin.
    â€œI could do that,” Olive says.
    Jasper ties a knot and snips the leftover thread. “Tell you what. Next time Lee or Jefferson bags a rabbit, we’ll practice some stitches on the bullet hole.”
    â€œOkay, Jasper!”
    I stare at the girl. Such a quiet little thing, who gets teary-eyed at the slightest provocation. But I guess everyone is brave about something.
    â€œAll right, Jefferson,” Jasper says as he ties off the wrapping. “It bled a good bit, so I want you to ride in the wagonuntil I know that wound is sealing properly. But you should be fine.”
    Jeff winces as we help him to his feet. “Thanks, Doc,” he says.
    The strange man’s voice hollers out, “I reckon it’s all right if you need a few more minutes, given that you have an injury.”
    Our camp is already packed up. We’ve had to move fast before, and everyone knows exactly what to do. Major Craven is near the wagon tongue, checking the oxen harnesses. “At least they don’t seem keen to murder us all,” he grumbles.
    â€œStupid men can be just as dangerous as murderous ones,” I tell him.
    â€œMore dangerous, often as not,” he says, and he helps us shove Jefferson onto the wagon bench.
    Hampton approaches, Peony and Sorry saddled up and trailing behind him, and I’m so relieved to see them both. I grab Peony’s reins and plant a kiss on her pretty white nose. “Just a bunch of fuss and noise, girl,” I tell her, and true to form, she tosses her blond mane, more annoyed than frightened.
    â€œThe sorrel’s got a small gash on her foreleg,” Hampton says. “Must have panicked when the guns went off. I think she’s fine, though.”
    â€œCan’t ride her, anyway,” Jefferson says.
    â€œI’ll lead her instead of tying her to the back of the wagon,” Hampton