Page 99 of Always to Remember
“He ain’t gonna die, is he?” Josh asked as he picked up his burden.
“Nah, I reckon all the excitement just wore him out,” Lucian said as he lifted Clay and walked backward into the house.
Meg’s gaze was drawn to the trail of blood as they carried Clay to his bed. Who’d done this? Why? How could they have done this?
Clay groaned as they dumped him on the bed, but he didn’t waken.
“Do you have a rag I can use to wrap around his hand?” Meg asked.
Lucian walked out of the room and returned carrying a white cloth. He handed it to her, and she wrapped it around the ghastly wound. “Joe and Josh, I need your help.” They came to her side and stood at attention as though they were tiny soldiers. “He has such a large hand that I need both of you to press on it like this to stop the bleeding.” She took their hands and positioned them around Clay’s hand.
Stepping aside, she looked to Lucian. “Let’s take his clothes off and see how badly he’s hurt.”
Lucian lifted his brows. “Shouldn’t I take his clothes off while you wait in the other room?”
“I’m a widow. I’ve seen a man’s body. I’m not likely to faint if I see another one.” She moved to the foot of the bed and began to work off Clay’s boot. She’d dropped it to the floor before Lucian walked to the head of the bed and began to unbutton Clay’s shirt. Meg pulled off Clay’s sock and stared at the wide pink scar that circled his ankle.
“Dear God,” Lucian whispered.
She jerked up her head. Lucian had unbuttoned Clay’s shirt, and the sides had parted to reveal by the light of the lantern what she’d been unable to see by the pale light of the crescent moon. Another scar. Someone had burned aDinto the center of his chest.
She sat on the edge of the bed and lightly touched her fingers to the scar.
She remembered how Clay had stopped her from running her fingers over his chest as they made love. Now, she understood why he had guided her hands to his back. He hadn’t wanted her to feel the scar, to know that the army had branded him a deserter.
“Go get Dr. Martin,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Lucian said before quickly leaving the room. She wished she could get rid of the twins as easily, but she needed them to keep the pressure on his wound.
“They hurt him somethin’ bad, didn’t they, Miz Meg?” Josh asked.
“This is an old scar. It doesn’t hurt him anymore.” She placed her hands on each boy’s shoulder. “It might be best if you look away and study the wall over there while I see how badly he’s hurt.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Watching their chins quiver as they turned away, she felt the tears sting her own eyes.
She lifted the bloody end of Clay’s shirt. A thin, ragged scar marred his side. She unbuttoned his trousers, pulled them past his hips, and saw what she’d hoped she wouldn’t see: more scars crisscrossed his backside. His past words rushed through her mind like a torrential rain:
“I can stand up to any torture that’s handed out …”
“… four days without sleep …”
“… bayonet …”
“… only difference between us is that he was willing to kill for his beliefs. I wasn’t …”
Gently, she removed his clothes. New bruises were emerging and covering old scars. She carried the quilt up to his chin and tucked it around his sides as though it could somehow protect him.
She left the room and returned carrying a bowl of warm water. Using a clean cloth, she wiped the blood away from Clay’s mouth. How many times had they hit him? One eye was nearly swollen shut and his cheek was grazed and bloody.
She dropped the stained cloth into the bowl and set it on a table beside the bed.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she took his hand from the twins, laid it in her lap, and pressed her palms against the wound. “You can go to bed now. There’s nothing else for you to do. I’ll wake you if he needs you.”
Nodding, the twins walked from the room and quietly closed the door.
Meg bowed her head and wept.
Sometime later, Dr. Martin burst through the door like a cyclone. “God damn it! What’d they do to him?” He stalked across the room and yanked the quilt down to Clay’s hips.
