Read Online A Cowboy at Heart by Virginia Smith, Lori Copeland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Virginia Smith, Lori Copeland
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is foolish at best, a charlatan at worst.” He looked over the top of his spectacles toward the older woman. “They call me the same for practicing his techniques.”
Maummi Switzer’s mouth pursed. “Cleanliness is next to godliness.”
The doctor’s gaze became approving. “Exactly, ma’am. On the battlefield we operated in some mighty dirty conditions, and there were a lot of fine young men who never made it home to their families.” His lips tightened. “If Lister had been a few years ahead of his time with his antisepsis theory, we might have saved some of them.”
He fished one of the saturated cloths out of the bucket and handed it to Katie, and then he took another for himself. Smelly liquid dripped onto the floor as he turned to the bed.
“You wipe down his back,” he told her, “and I’ll do his head. I want every inch of flesh saturated.”
She did as instructed, aware that Maummi Switzer oversaw her movements with sharp attention from across the room. Jesse did not move, nor did he moan even when she dabbed the cloth around the wound. His back rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.
When he was satisfied the area had been thoroughly cleansed, Dr. Sorensen reached for the third cloth in the bucket. From it he dribbled the pungent water directly into the gash on Jesse’s head,and then into the bullet hole on his back. A slight sound came from the patient’s open mouth, no more than a whispered breath.
“Without the chloroform that would have brought him up off this bed,” the doctor told her. He gave a satisfied nod. “Now we can get to work.”
Katie had no idea how much time had passed before Dr. Sorensen extracted a lump of metal from Jesse’s body. He held it up for her inspection.
“He’s a lucky man. The bullet ripped through his muscle but lodged in the pleura instead of puncturing the lung itself. Probably hurts like a billy-o to breathe, and it will for a while. But as long as infection doesn’t set in, this cowboy might just pull through.”
Katie wilted into the chair, her breath escaping in a sigh. The procedure had been tense and bloody, and her part had mainly been wiping away the fresh blood that ran alarmingly from the wound as Dr. Sorensen prodded and probed along the bullet’s path. The man liked to talk while he worked, and she had listened to every word about the rich blood supply to the shoulder, both arterial and venous. Though she had no idea what the terms meant, she’d nodded to indicate she was paying attention and kept her gaze fixed on his hands.
“I’ll leave some dried red clover for the blood loss. Steep it in water and give it to him four or five times a day.”
She perked up. “I have red clover in my bag. Perhaps goldenseal as well?”
The doctor shrugged. “Can’t hurt. My dear granny used to swear by goldenseal. Said it cleanses the blood.”
“What of the wound in his head?” She looked at the ugly gash. At least it bled no more.
The doctor bent over and examined the wound through his spectacles. “Doesn’t look too serious to me. If I were a betting man, I’d wager he hit something when he fell rather than somebody walloping him.” He ducked his chin and looked at her over the top of his glasses. “How are you at stitching?”
Katie’s backbone straightened. The doctor, a real Englisch doctor, would trust her to stitch a wound? True, she’d only had to sew three or four cuts closed in her entire life, but she had a steady hand, and her quilts were much admired by the ladies of Apple Grove for her small, even stitches. “I can do it,” she answered with more confidence than she felt.
“Good. Here’s some catgut and a needle. You do that while I go check on Jonas.” He gathered his surgical instruments and dropped them into the bucket with the acidy water, and then he reached into his satchel. “I don’t have a lot of carbolic acid to spare, and besides, I use that mostly in the surgery. Going forward you’ll use the
Maummi Switzer’s mouth pursed. “Cleanliness is next to godliness.”
The doctor’s gaze became approving. “Exactly, ma’am. On the battlefield we operated in some mighty dirty conditions, and there were a lot of fine young men who never made it home to their families.” His lips tightened. “If Lister had been a few years ahead of his time with his antisepsis theory, we might have saved some of them.”
He fished one of the saturated cloths out of the bucket and handed it to Katie, and then he took another for himself. Smelly liquid dripped onto the floor as he turned to the bed.
“You wipe down his back,” he told her, “and I’ll do his head. I want every inch of flesh saturated.”
She did as instructed, aware that Maummi Switzer oversaw her movements with sharp attention from across the room. Jesse did not move, nor did he moan even when she dabbed the cloth around the wound. His back rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.
When he was satisfied the area had been thoroughly cleansed, Dr. Sorensen reached for the third cloth in the bucket. From it he dribbled the pungent water directly into the gash on Jesse’s head,and then into the bullet hole on his back. A slight sound came from the patient’s open mouth, no more than a whispered breath.
“Without the chloroform that would have brought him up off this bed,” the doctor told her. He gave a satisfied nod. “Now we can get to work.”
Katie had no idea how much time had passed before Dr. Sorensen extracted a lump of metal from Jesse’s body. He held it up for her inspection.
“He’s a lucky man. The bullet ripped through his muscle but lodged in the pleura instead of puncturing the lung itself. Probably hurts like a billy-o to breathe, and it will for a while. But as long as infection doesn’t set in, this cowboy might just pull through.”
Katie wilted into the chair, her breath escaping in a sigh. The procedure had been tense and bloody, and her part had mainly been wiping away the fresh blood that ran alarmingly from the wound as Dr. Sorensen prodded and probed along the bullet’s path. The man liked to talk while he worked, and she had listened to every word about the rich blood supply to the shoulder, both arterial and venous. Though she had no idea what the terms meant, she’d nodded to indicate she was paying attention and kept her gaze fixed on his hands.
“I’ll leave some dried red clover for the blood loss. Steep it in water and give it to him four or five times a day.”
She perked up. “I have red clover in my bag. Perhaps goldenseal as well?”
The doctor shrugged. “Can’t hurt. My dear granny used to swear by goldenseal. Said it cleanses the blood.”
“What of the wound in his head?” She looked at the ugly gash. At least it bled no more.
The doctor bent over and examined the wound through his spectacles. “Doesn’t look too serious to me. If I were a betting man, I’d wager he hit something when he fell rather than somebody walloping him.” He ducked his chin and looked at her over the top of his glasses. “How are you at stitching?”
Katie’s backbone straightened. The doctor, a real Englisch doctor, would trust her to stitch a wound? True, she’d only had to sew three or four cuts closed in her entire life, but she had a steady hand, and her quilts were much admired by the ladies of Apple Grove for her small, even stitches. “I can do it,” she answered with more confidence than she felt.
“Good. Here’s some catgut and a needle. You do that while I go check on Jonas.” He gathered his surgical instruments and dropped them into the bucket with the acidy water, and then he reached into his satchel. “I don’t have a lot of carbolic acid to spare, and besides, I use that mostly in the surgery. Going forward you’ll use the
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