Page 63 of The Promise of Jenny Jones
Jenny drew a breath and exhaled slowly before she pressed the tequila-soaked cloth against the wound. White-hot pain chewed a path to her brain, and she sucked in a hissing breath, blinking against a scald of tears. “Je-zus! Sorry, kid, but… oh my God.”
Smothering sobs, Graciela slid down the seat and curled into a ball, shaking and twitching. She covered her head with her shawl.
When she could make herself do it, Jenny held the bloody rag tightly beneath the wound like a dam and poured tequila directly into the wound, catching the overflow with the cloth. Her hands shook, and she ground her teeth together so hard that the grinding sound was all she could hear.
“Lord a’mighty, that smarts.” Gasping, she tried to draw a full breath. “What about the third man? Did he get on the train?”
“I don’t know,” Ty said gruffly.
When she finished cleaning the wound with the liquor, she fell back against the seat back, closed her eyes, and swallowed a long draw from the tequila bottle. Panting, she rested a minute. When she opened her eyes, Ty was staring at her with an unreadable expression.
“This feels worse than getting shot,” she said, testing the steadiness of her voice. A little quavery, but better than she’d expected it would be.
He passed her a lit cigar, and she filled her lungs with hot smoke, then exhaled. Ty waited a full minute. “Here’s where it gets sticky,” he said in a low voice, watching her. “I can’t stitch it without getting down on my knees in front of you.” They both knew that would certainly attract unwanted attention. “And you can’t do it yourself…”
Jenny nodded. She dropped a hand on Graciela’s shaking body. “Kid? Graciela? Stop crying and sit up. We have to talk.”
Graciela pulled the shawl away from her tear-stained face and stared up. “Are you going to die?”
“Well hell no.” She bit her lip. “Make that, shoot no. But I’d have to say that I’m mighty… displeased right now. And I need your help.” Forcing her mind into a narrow channel, she concentrated on the kid. She had to be careful here; the damned kid would remember every minute of this. What was said, what was done, how it was said and done. It was a fricking pain in the butt to be responsible for a kid, to have to set examples.
“You needmyhelp?” Bewildered, Graciela sat up, clutching the shawl to her chest. She glanced at Ty’s frown, then back to Jenny.
Jenny licked her lips and thought about the kid instead of the pain. “You told me you could sew, remember?”
Graciela nodded solemnly, not yet understanding.
Jenny gazed into her eyes. “Graciela… I need you to sew the edges of the wound together. Can you do that?”
Horror screwed the kid’s expression toward the center of her face. Little gasping sounds bleated out of her chest. “I… I can’t.”
“Jenny.” Ty leaned forward, staring in disapproval.
“Who else have we got?” she snapped, cutting him off, not looking away from Graciela’s white face. “You can do this. It’s just like sewing a seam. All you have to do is sew the edges up against each other. I’d do it myself except I can’t see the wound.” Her breasts were in the way.
Graciela shook her head back and forth, wrung her hands. Tears gushed down her face, and the usual snot. “I can’t, I can’t.”
“Wipe her nose, will you?” Jenny said in disgust. She took another deep swig from the mouth of the tequila bottle.
“For Christ’s sake, Jenny. This is too much to ask of a kid. I’ll do it,” Ty growled, fumbling in the saddlebags for the sewing kit.
“Fine,” she said, glaring. “Give the kid your pistol and let her serve as lookout. Tell her to shoot the third cousin if he comes in here looking for us.” She knew she’d made her point by the frustration drawing his face.
“If the man on the depot platform boarded the train, don’t you think we’d have seen him by now?”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s biding his time, waiting for the next stop.”
His face darkened, and he turned his gaze to Graciela. “I’m sorry, honey. I don’t like this any more than you do, but it looks like you’ll have to do the sewing.”
Graciela had both small hands clamped to her cheeks and was crying and shaking her head. “I can’t! I can’t!”
“Listen to me,” Jenny said, speaking quietly. Gently, she pulled one of the kid’s hands into her own, leaving a bloody smear. “If we don’t stitch the wound, it won’t stop bleeding. It won’t start to heal.” She gazed into Graciela’s wide wet eyes. “If we don’t stop the bleeding, I’m going to be in real trouble. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I can’t stick a needle into…” A shudder twitched down the kid’s body. Her face had turned the color of whey.
“Yes, you can. Hide is tougher than cotton, it’s like stitching leather. But you can do it. You just have to push the needle a little harder.”
Graciela dropped her head on Jenny’s shoulder. Her back shook. “It’ll hurt you.”
