Page 74 of Silver Lining
"I guess I could," Dave said unhappily. Moving forward, he took off his hat, hesitated a minute, then ripped Max's sleeve up to the elbow to get a look. "That's a bad break."
Louise frowned. "That isn't so bad. When the bone's sticking out of the skin—now that's bad. But I don't see any bones sticking out." Everyone in the kitchen stared expectantly. "Oh hell. All right, I'll do it."
She pushed up her sleeves and moved next to Max. "Take another deep drink, darlin', this is going to hurt like all get out."
"Oh it's darlin', now, is it? I'm offended." Looking straight into her eyes, he took a long pull from the bottle.
"You keep drinking just as fast as you can." Bending over him, she probed the break with her fingertips, closing her ears to the hisses and gasps Max made though his teeth. "Not too bad at all. Wally, we're going to need some splints. Sunshine, help your ma rig up a sling. Dave, get Max off the table and into that end chair."
"What can I do?" Livvy asked crisply.
"You can open another bottle and pour whiskeys for everyone, starting with me."
"Here." Max thrust the bottle into her hands. She took a deep swallow, letting the heat scald down to her nerve endings. "I'm sorry, Louise."
She knew what he was sorry about. Feeding the cattle had been her first thought when he came though the door holding his arm.
"It's over now. All these weeks have been for nothing. Give me back the whiskey."
The situation demanded some serious swearing and bullying, but she couldn't let herself cut loose, not with Sunshine in the kitchen. Having a child nearby placed a severe crimp in her style.
"You are full of… horse feathers, cowboy." Leaning over him, she stared hard into his eyes. "I didn't work like a damned dog out there and freeze my butt off—excuse me, Sunshine—so we could just let those damned—'scuse me, Sunshine—stupid cows starve or freeze. And we aren't going to find a buyer for them now, that's for damned sure—excuse me, Sunshine."
He took another pull at the bottle, then pushed it back into her hands. "We can't manage it. I won't be able to lift a damned pitchfork until the end of January. Excuse me, Sunshine."
"You ain't losing those cows, Max." Tossing her head back, she swallowed liquid heat, then shoved the bottle toward his good arm. "I'll load the sled and do the forking. You can drive. Hell, the horses can practically do it alone. They know the routine. All you have to do is sit there and hold the reins in your good hand."
A chorus of voices objected, but she stared everyone into silence. "I hear what you're saying, and I know it isn't going to be easy. I don't know how I'll manage it, but I will. I can do this. Because we ain't losing those cows," she repeated stubbornly. "That's too high a price for a good man to pay! Now you,"
she said to Max. "Rest your arm on the table. Let's get this done."
She glanced at Livvy, who moved around behind Max and murmured to Wally and Dave. Thin-lipped and grim-eyed, they moved forward and each clamped a hand on Max's shoulders.
Watching her with narrowed eyes, Max lifted the whiskey to his lips and swallowed heavily before he set the bottle on the table. "Seems like you're in charge here, so what are you waiting for? Do it."
"I'm so mad at you for jumping a fence in the middle of a blizzard that I'm going to enjoy this."
She didn't. As Livvy had said, hurting someone you loved was a hard, hard thing. The only positive aspect of setting Max's arm was that she was strong and experienced, and it happened fast. She nodded at Wally, who slipped his hands down around Max's upper arm, then she pulled Max's arm straight out, doing it swiftly, pulling hard. She didn't set it properly on the first attempt, but she heard and felt the bones align on the second try. Max's eyes fluttered up and Dave caught him as he toppled over.
A body hit the floor behind her, and Sunshine cried, "Mama!"
"Give me the splints, Wally. Livvy, I need some strips to tie the splints in place."
When she had his arm wrapped and the sling packed with snow, she fell into a chair and lifted the whiskey bottle to her lips. "You folks better stay here tonight rather than risk traveling in a blizzard in the dark." She looked up at Wally and Dave. "You gents take Max down to the bunkhouse before he wakes up. Get a fire going in the potbelly, and it'll warm up in a hurry. Give me a few minutes to calm down, then we'll bring some food to you."
Dave pulled on his coat and gloves, but Wally didn't move. He stood staring like he hadn't seen her before. "I owe you an apology," he said quietly.
"No, you don't."
"Oh yes, he does," Livvy said, slapping corks back into the whiskey bottles.
"It's all right." Louise suspected she knew why Wally felt he should apologize. Someone had told Philadelphia about her being Low Down, had told Philadelphia her whole worthless life story. Early on, Livvy had probably related Louise's story to Wally, but Livvy would never have discussed her with Philadelphia . She was sure of that. But someone had.
"I haven't treated you as well as I should, Louise. Maybe I can make up for that a little by reminding you that you're not in this alone." Wally looked so much like Max tonight. Handsome. Determined blue eyes.
"You have family. Somehow we'll work this out. We'll help you feed those beeves."
The last thirty minutes had been emotional and draining. Undoubtedly, that's why her eyes swam and she had to blink hard.
