Read Online The Sapphire Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy Book 2) by Katherine Lowry Logan - Free Book Online

patient had rebound tenderness, probably peritonitis. More than likely the bullet had nicked the bowel. Although he wasn’t actively bleeding, the shallow breathing, fever, and shaking told her he was heading into shock. If she didn’t get him into surgery he would die in the next few hours. She looked at the wound again. She’d seen worse, and those patients had all died on the operating table.
    “How long has he been shaking like this?”
    “Awhile, I reckon. How long you ’spect he’s gonna live?”
    Charlotte tapped her foot, rapidly sorting through options. If she operated on McCabe here and he survived, the Confederate Army would hang him. “At this rate only a few hours.”
    He opened his eyes very slightly, only a sliver, but she could somehow see the color—emerald. He was a handsome man, even with all the swelling and bruises on his square-jawed face. Long, dirty blond hair lay across his forehead, covering most of an open cut above his brow. Over six feet tall, broad-shouldered, probably weighed one-eighty or ninety. If he couldn’t walk, she couldn’t carry him. She checked that option off the list.
    He tried to lick his lips, but his swollen tongue stuck in his mouth. His pitiable attempt at communication touched her doctor’s heart. This soldier wasn’t ready to give up. And if he wasn’t, then she wouldn’t give up on him, either.
    McCabe reached for her hand. “Water.”
    She glanced at the nurse. “Bring me clean bandages.”
    The nurse stared at her and shook his head slowly, his mouth going tight beneath his moustache. “My orders are to leave him be.”
    “I’m not going to watch a man die without trying to make his last moments comfortable. Now, go.”
    The nurse nodded, then spun on his heel and hurried away.
    She sat on the edge of the spindle-back side chair, scooted it closer, scraping wobbly legs against the floor, and took the major’s cold, long-fingered hand between both of hers. He would die soon if she didn’t help him. But to help him, she would have to take him to her time and operate on him. Did she really want to do this?
    The major’s eyes were not quite closed and a sliver of white showed among the bruises. Was he trying to open them for one last glimpse of the world? If she took him to the future, this could be his one last glimpse of his world.
    President Lincoln called him a friend. General Grant thought highly of him, too. Members of the Richmond underground risked their lives for him. All excellent character references.
    Suddenly, her brain slammed against the question of the day, and she swallowed hard. Would the brooch take both of them to her time? Would the brooch even take her? And if the magic worked as she hoped it would, how would the major handle living in her time? What if he freaked out and told people he was from the nineteenth century?
    She fought back a growing quiver of panic.
    What if the major was married and had children? He’d never see them again. What if…
    Stop it. Now.
    Going through a litany of what-ifs didn’t help a damn bit. She was stalling while the life of the man whose hand she held slipped slowly away. This was a waiting-at-the-red-light moment. She could waste precious minutes, or she could do something. Why did surgical decisions come so easily and all others seemed to require in-depth analysis?
    It was now decision time. Do it, or walk away.
    She took a deep breath and saw her decision flow out in the spluttering flame of the candle. She glanced over her shoulder at the flickering shadows. No one was paying attention to them. If anyone was, the light was too low to see clearly.
    She turned back to the patient, leaned in close, and whispered, “I’ve been sent to rescue you, Major. I’m getting you out of here.”
    “Am I dead?” he whispered.
    “No, and you won’t die today if I can help it.”
    “My legs won’t carry me very far.”
    Sweating profusely, as if she’d just run a race, she let go of his hand, reached