Read Online The Hanged Man by P. N. Elrod - Free Book Online Page B

cupboards, Mr. Fonteyn won’t mind.”
    â€œI might,” he said. “Depends on the cupboard.”
    Woodwake nearly bumped into another young man as he came in.
    â€œYour pardon, miss,” he said politely, getting out of her way. He was also in evening clothes that looked slept in or—knowing James’s habits and those of his friends—passed out in. “Fonteyn, some of us are trying to slee—” He gaped at the tableau of a half-conscious man bleeding on the parlor floor. “Good God, what the devil is this?”
    â€œAll yours,” said James magnanimously. “Freshly delivered by my cousin Alex. That’s Alex tearing away his clothes, by the way. Who’d have thought it? Well, don’t stand there, get your kit and see if you can save him.”
    â€œWhat about you?” Alex snapped.
    â€œI’m almost blind drunk and wholly useless. Hamish, however, is in somewhat better condition and just back from Nemley, where he learned how to be a first-rate army doctor. I’m sure they covered taking out bullets. Is that not so, old chap? Here, now, where’s he gotten to?”
    Hamish had vanished, but quickly returned with his bag and knelt opposite Alex. “I’ve never done a fresh bullet wound before. They only let us practice on pig carcasses.”
    â€œWell, if you lose this patient you can’t have him for dinner.” James slouched toward a liquor cabinet that was in disarray and a selected a bottle. “Garde à l’eau,” he sang out by way of warning, then drizzled gin liberally on the now exposed wound.
    Alex squawked in irritation as she was splashed, Hamish crowed approval, and Lord Richard roared and bucked. Hamish was a big sturdy fellow, built for rugby, but had trouble holding him down.
    â€œKeep still, sir, you’ll make it worse,” he informed his patient.
    Richard’s reply was unfit for polite company. He tried to pull his clothes back on. Alex forgot herself and the dire situation for a moment, staring in shock at the exotic pattern of blue tattoos covering the pale flesh of his torso. They coiled up from his lower regions, flowing over belly, chest, arms, and shoulders and apparently down his back. She’d never seen the like. Hamish was busy, but behind her James made a low whistle of surprise.
    â€œWell, well,” he said. “I never thought I’d ever s—”
    Woodwake returned, bedding in one hand and a pitcher of water in another. “Bandages?” she asked James.
    â€œNo, thank you. Never bother with the things.”
    She shot him a look that he was long used to collecting.
    â€œI know,” said James with satisfaction. “I’m a great fool. Not a mere fool, but a great one.” He pulled out a penknife and offered it. “Here, cut that sheet up, I’m tired of it anyway.”
    Using the knife, Woodwake efficiently sliced and tore the fabric into long strips, giving Alex the impression that she’d have preferred it was James. Alex lighted the room’s one lamp, holding it close so Dr. Hamish could work. She smelled liquor on his breath, but he seemed up to the task. At least his hands were steady. Hers weren’t. She fought to keep the light still.
    He bathed the wound clean and probed with his fingers to locate the bullet. Richard grunted his discomfort the whole time, but managed not to yell.
    â€œYou’re lucky, my man,” Hamish pronounced. “It went under the skin, but above the ribs and out again. Nasty furrowing, be quite a scar if it doesn’t go septic.”
    Woodwake left again, returning with a washbasin and soap, setting both on the floor next to Hamish, who thanked her. Alex moved out of the way so Woodwake could sponge the wound clean.
    â€œAre you two nurses?” Hamish asked, wiping his bloody hands on a piece of sheet. “I must say, you’re cool-headed. No fainting.”
    James gave a short