Page 30 of Sutherland's Secret
“Thank you,” Eleanor said as she studied the wound.
Though Brice had not moved, his chest was rising and falling in a reassuring rhythm. His face was so deathly pale that Eleanor chose not to look at it and to concentrate on the wound.
One of the serving girls approached with an armful of white linens. Hannah murmured her thanks as she wet the linen in the warm water and handed it to Eleanor.
“Tell me what to do,” Colin said.
“Be ready to…hold him…down.”
Colin nodded. Another man—Samuel, she thought his name was—stepped up on the other side of Brice. She gently washed the drying blood from his body, noting the torn flesh, red and ragged where the ball had entered his body.
“We must see if it…exited. We have to…roll him over.”
Colin nodded, put his hand under Brice’s shoulder, and gently rolled him toward Samuel. Eleanor dipped her head and wanted to groan. No exit wound. The ball was still inside him, and that meant she had to dig it out. But first she must find it.
She swallowed, her stomach churning. She’d never done anything like this before. She’d only seen doctors perform this type of surgery once or twice, and it had been horrible, because both times the patient had been awake.
“Ye can do this,” Colin whispered to her. “For Brice.”
Yes, for Brice. For Brice she would do anything. She held out her hand for another wet cloth. The wound was bleeding again. She wiped the fresh blood away, trying to get a glimpse of the ball. “Light,” she said. Suddenly there was a light above her, held by one of the taller warriors.
She had no idea where the ball had gone. It could be close to the surface or it could be imbedded deep in his shoulder.
“More light,” she said. Another light appeared.
Hannah moved beside her. “This is the bag from our old healer. Unfortunately he died in the spring, but we still have his implements.”
Eleanor nodded her thanks and rifled through the bag. She was looking for anything that could probe beneath the skin and pick up the ball. She prayed the ball was in one piece, because it would be far worse if it had splintered. She pulled out locked forceps and breathed a little easier.
She turned back to Brice, the forceps in one hand. “Hannah, I need your help.”
“Of course.” Hannah was beside her in an instant.
“I need to dig the ball out of his shoulder, and I’ll need you to wipe away the blood as it comes.” She looked at the woman, whom she considered a friend. Hannah’s freckles stood out pale against her white skin, but she nodded.
“I’ll do it,” Lachlan said from the other side of Brice. He looked at his wife in worry.
“No,” Hannah said. “I will do this. Ye’re needed to keep him from moving.”
With a deep breath, Eleanor leaned over the wound. His scent reminded her of the kiss they had shared before he left. His eyes had been so serious and his arms so strong.
“I’ll need the light to shine right on the wound,” she said. The light moved, and she looked up to find that the ones holding it had stepped up on the table and were standing over their chief. To a man, their looks were serious, their eyes holding worry. She couldn’t let them down. Brice was everything to them. As he was to her.
She leaned over the wound and forced all other thoughts away. Blood oozed out and Hannah expertly wiped it away. Eleanor took a firmer hold on the forceps and peered closer. She thought she saw the ball, not embedded too deeply, but enough that she would have to work for it.
Tongue clenched between her front teeth, she set to work. With the forceps, she managed to grasp the ball on the first try, but the blasted thing squirted out of her hold. She cursed. She normally wasn’t one for cursing, but this definitely called for it.
After a few more tries, she managed to pull it out and hold it up. There was a collective sigh from the men. She looked at the ball closely. It appeared to be in one piece, but she wanted to thoroughly check. She was well aware of what would happen if she left a piece in there or even a bit of cloth from his shirt. It would cause all sorts of problems that could lead to death.
She carefully placed the bloody ball on the table and bent over the wound again. Brice moaned, and that caused her to flinch, which caused her forceps to slip.
To her right, Colin held Brice’s shoulders tighter. She prodded and poked but could find nothing more, and Brice did not move again.
She straightened, putting a bloody hand to her aching back and wiping a sweaty brow with the back of the hand that was holding the forceps. “I think I got everything,” she said.
“Yethink?” Lachlan asked. “Ye’d better be certain.”
“Lachlan, hush,” his wife said as she sponged more blood away.
