from there a short while before he went to bed, but Annie'd been in her room and hadn't heard if Walker was any better. Now she wondered. She found it mattered a great deal to her. By what had to be divine intervention, Captain Walker had strayed into that small Comanche encampment, ending three years of despair for her. As sick as he had been, it was a miracle either of them had made it to the safety of the Indian agency. She wished she'd thanked him for getting her almost there. For what he'd done for those two little girls so long ago, saving them from being lost like Susannah.
As she turned away from the window, she saw the shawl Cora had given her earlier, saying she ought to wear it as long as the wind was in the north. But after three hard winters on the Staked Plains, even a drafty house seemed hot. Annie stared at it for a moment, then made up her mind. Whether he knew she had come to see him or not, she was going to thank him. She might not get the chance tomorrow.
Throwing the wool shawl over her shoulders, she pulled it close, then slipped out of her room. It was as though the house were empty except for the clock, and her heart kept rhythm with the ticking as she opened the outside door. Clutching her skirt to lift the hem out of the snow with one hand, holding the shawl closed with the other, she gingerly made her way down the steps and across the yard toward the hospital building.
At the door, she stopped to shake the snow from her skirt, then knocked loudly. Shivering now, she waited for someone to answer.
"Mrs. Bryce!" It was Corporal Nash, the man who'd ridden in the ambulance with her and Walker.
"May I come in, sir?"
He hesitated. "It's kinda late."
"Yes, I know, but I'd like to see Captain Walker."
"Doc know you're over here?" he asked suspiciously.
"No, he and Mrs. Sprenger have already gone to bed. He seemed terribly tired at supper."
He nodded. "Plumb tuckered out."
She stepped past him and removed the shawl. "How is he now-—Captain Walker, I mean?"
"What did Doc tell you?" he countered.
"Not much," she lied. "What do you think?"
"I'm not a doctor, ma'am, I'm just a corpsman. But if I was the captain, I'd be afraid of following that leg to the grave. If it was me, I'd want it off before the danged thing killed me."
"Gangrene?"
"Looks more like blood poisoning—all streaked-like. Guess it's coming from that abscess. It was nasty, real nasty."
"He's not better, then?"
"Fever's up, and it don't look like it's going down any. Don't know whether it's that or the morphine I gave him a little while ago, but he's plumb out."
"Oh."
"But," he added, relenting, "I don't suppose it'd hurt none to look at him. Since Wright and Hansen were discharged to the barracks today, he's the only one in the infirmary right now."
"Thank you."
"I reckon I'd better cover him up some first, though."
Leaving her there, he disappeared through a door. She moved closer, getting a glimpse of the room. Kerosene lanterns flickered, sending the distorted shadows of empty beds up the wall.
When he came back, he was frowning. "Captain Walker's hotter than ever." He met her gaze soberly. "I kinda hate to wake the major up, but even if I get more sassafras down him, I don't know what he's going to sweat. He hasn't drunk enough to pass any water." As he said it, he colored in embarrassment. "Sorry, ma'am. I just meant he's not drinking."
"I understand."
He stood back to let her pass. "First bed." Following her in, he stood behind her. "Don't look good, huh?"
The ashy gray she'd seen earlier was gone, replaced by a flush that made Hap Walker look almost red under the orange glow of the lamp. She reached out to touch his forehead with cold fingertips, then looked up.
"I'd say if you don't get the fever down, he's going to convulse. He needs to drink something—anything."
"I reckon I know that, ma'am, but the captain won't swallow anything for me." He peered over her shoulder for a moment, then made up his mind.
As she turned away from the window, she saw the shawl Cora had given her earlier, saying she ought to wear it as long as the wind was in the north. But after three hard winters on the Staked Plains, even a drafty house seemed hot. Annie stared at it for a moment, then made up her mind. Whether he knew she had come to see him or not, she was going to thank him. She might not get the chance tomorrow.
Throwing the wool shawl over her shoulders, she pulled it close, then slipped out of her room. It was as though the house were empty except for the clock, and her heart kept rhythm with the ticking as she opened the outside door. Clutching her skirt to lift the hem out of the snow with one hand, holding the shawl closed with the other, she gingerly made her way down the steps and across the yard toward the hospital building.
At the door, she stopped to shake the snow from her skirt, then knocked loudly. Shivering now, she waited for someone to answer.
"Mrs. Bryce!" It was Corporal Nash, the man who'd ridden in the ambulance with her and Walker.
"May I come in, sir?"
He hesitated. "It's kinda late."
"Yes, I know, but I'd like to see Captain Walker."
"Doc know you're over here?" he asked suspiciously.
"No, he and Mrs. Sprenger have already gone to bed. He seemed terribly tired at supper."
He nodded. "Plumb tuckered out."
She stepped past him and removed the shawl. "How is he now-—Captain Walker, I mean?"
"What did Doc tell you?" he countered.
"Not much," she lied. "What do you think?"
"I'm not a doctor, ma'am, I'm just a corpsman. But if I was the captain, I'd be afraid of following that leg to the grave. If it was me, I'd want it off before the danged thing killed me."
"Gangrene?"
"Looks more like blood poisoning—all streaked-like. Guess it's coming from that abscess. It was nasty, real nasty."
"He's not better, then?"
"Fever's up, and it don't look like it's going down any. Don't know whether it's that or the morphine I gave him a little while ago, but he's plumb out."
"Oh."
"But," he added, relenting, "I don't suppose it'd hurt none to look at him. Since Wright and Hansen were discharged to the barracks today, he's the only one in the infirmary right now."
"Thank you."
"I reckon I'd better cover him up some first, though."
Leaving her there, he disappeared through a door. She moved closer, getting a glimpse of the room. Kerosene lanterns flickered, sending the distorted shadows of empty beds up the wall.
When he came back, he was frowning. "Captain Walker's hotter than ever." He met her gaze soberly. "I kinda hate to wake the major up, but even if I get more sassafras down him, I don't know what he's going to sweat. He hasn't drunk enough to pass any water." As he said it, he colored in embarrassment. "Sorry, ma'am. I just meant he's not drinking."
"I understand."
He stood back to let her pass. "First bed." Following her in, he stood behind her. "Don't look good, huh?"
The ashy gray she'd seen earlier was gone, replaced by a flush that made Hap Walker look almost red under the orange glow of the lamp. She reached out to touch his forehead with cold fingertips, then looked up.
"I'd say if you don't get the fever down, he's going to convulse. He needs to drink something—anything."
"I reckon I know that, ma'am, but the captain won't swallow anything for me." He peered over her shoulder for a moment, then made up his mind.
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