The boat wobbled but righted itself as he grabbed her hand. When their hands touched, tiny tremors raced up her arm and down her spine. The feeling shocked her, and she nearly released his hand but held it fast.Not sure what that was, but it was nice.
“Perfect,” she said. “Now slowly walk toward my voice,” she urged, trying to dismiss the flutter which had settled in her stomach.
Dandie waited patiently until he got out of the boat before she leaped around him and jumped onto the grassy surface. Once Bethany got him onto the shore, she pushed the boat under the dock and secured it with her rope. Grabbing a large tree limb nearby, she covered the small dock, hoping to keep her boat covered. So many flatboats had gone missing during the past months. She needed hers.
“You are hiding your boat?” His voice sounded pained.
She was astounded he could tell what she was doing without his sight. “Yes. This war has given people license to steal,” she responded with conviction. “It seems even the most mundane things find their way gone.” She paused and added, “It might be nice to know your name. It feels awkward not knowing what to call you.”
“Colonel Matthew Romney,” he rasped.
“Oh goodness,” she exclaimed, recognizing the dryness in his voice. “I let you sleep and forgot to give you water. I am sorry. You are thirsty.” She reached into her vegetable bag and brought out her canteen, handing it to him. “Here. Drink.”
He grabbed the water bottle and turned it up, drinking heartily.
“Matthew.It agrees with you. It is a very nice name.” She smiled. “We should settle down before a patrol boat, or worse—a nosey neighbor—sees us.”
“Agreed.”
The three of them moved into the house. Once inside, Bethany walked Matthew to her bedroom.
“You sleep here. It will be more comfortable for you,” she said with a note of firmness in her voice. He needed a comfortable bed to sleep in if he was to recover. She would make up a pallet on the floor. “We need to take this uniform off in case we have visitors. I can clean it and hide it for when you are ready to wear it again. We need to hide your accent, but that could be hard. Perhaps, we should keep conversation with others to a minimum. I should not like to explain a British officer’s presence to anyone,” she added with a smile in her voice. “Do you think you can get your clothes off on your own?”
“Yes... well, except for the boots. My batman...” His voice faltered.
“Did he die?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” his voice cracked. “Bart had been with me as my batman during the entire campaign.” His pain was palpable.
“Oh.” She stayed quiet for a moment. “I will be glad to help with the boots.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed his foot forward. It barely moved. Bethany picked up his leg and tugged on his boot, pulling it toward her as much as she could until it finally popped off, sending her tumbling backward, laughing. She quickly pulled the other boot off. “Let me know if you need me to help with anything else,” she said, glad for the moment he could not see her face coloring.
“I will. Thank you,” he returned. His face had paled, probably from the pain. “Wait.”
Bethany turned back. She could not help but notice the sprig of black hair revealed by his opened collar, propelling even more heat to rise her neck. “I need to get the bullet out of your side. You also have injuries to your arm, although they do not appear as serious.”
He tugged off his jacket and removed his shirt. “My family’s address in my pocket... on a letter. Would you help me write a letter to them?”
“I will.” She had planned to do that, anyway. It warmed her heart that he thought of his family. She would look for the address later, feeling better that he had asked her to look.
Matthew’s head pitched slightly before he fell back on the bed. Bethany flew to his side and checked on him.Good. He is still breathing. “Looks like I will have to finish this myself.” She grimaced. At roughly five feet tall, she was not sure she could handle his much taller frame. Satisfied he had not hurt himself more, she decided she could work where he lay.
She heated the water while she gathered candles and supplies. Opening her cabinet, she reached for the small bottle of brandy her mother had saved for special occasions. If she were to describe a special need, it would be this, although Matthew had passed out for the moment.
Bethany studied Matthew’s face closely, looking for any sign she was being too harsh as she cleaned and probed his wound. Seeing pus and smelling an odor, she knew the surrounding skin might already be festering. She strived to pick off as much of the nasty stuff as she could. He grimaced and cried out, though he appeared to be in a deep, tortured sleep. Perhaps he dreamed of the battle. He did not move. Bethany worked quickly, determined not to stop.
Moving her forceps close, she picked up long tweezers and a probe, needing to first look for the ball. When she hit metal, she held her spot and grabbed with the tweezers, pulling gently until she tugged it from beneath his rib. She held it up, flushing it with water and examining it to make sure it had not broken off. It appeared whole.
Thank you, Lord.
Hurriedly, she picked out bits of debris—cotton from the uniform and pieces of things she could not identify—then cleaned up the blood. Satisfied she had done her best, Bethany poured water and small amounts of brandy on the wound, flushing it and making sure it was clean before she sewed it closed. With no movement from Matthew, she heated her needle with her candle flame, threaded it with silk, and stitched his wound. To ensure it would stay closed, she secured it from the inside and then added a surface level of stitches, like her grandmother had taught her to do with these deeper wounds. Pleased with the stitches, Bethany mixed mashed up bread, water, ground linseed, and ground oatmeal and put the warm poultice over the wound as Grandmère had taught her, hoping this would stem any further infection.
Weary, she took a long cleansing sigh before she examined his arm. The wound was much less threatening, so she cleaned it and applied the same poultice as she had on his side before searching for anything else she might have missed.
He had only removed his shirt and jacket before passing out. Worrying her lower lip, Bethany stepped back from the bed, trying to decide what to do next. Rest was the best thing for him. When he woke, she would try to get him to drink linseed and licorice tea as a preventative for fever. If needed, she had willow bark as well.
She stoked the small fire in the fireplace, then made sure the blankets covered him before she blew out the candle. Leaving the room, Bethany spied his jacket on the floor where he had thrown it and checked its pockets. Finding the letter he had mentioned earlier, she folded his jacket and hid it in her closet. She would stitch it where he had been wounded and clean it tomorrow. For now, she would make good on her promise.
