“Again?” Julia asked, her voice whisper soft and a bit slurred.
“Yes, I fear so.” Abigail helped Julia stand, not surprised at how much of the woman’s weight she had to shoulder. “You are out here in your nightclothes again.”
“No matter. No one to see.”
The woman spoke as if she was drunk, and it worried Abigail. “Are you feeling well, Julia?”
“Just feel as if all my innards are falling out.”
Since she had heard the complaint from other women after childbirth, Abigail was inclined to ignore it, but some instinct made her look Julia over as they staggered toward the jail. The back of her nightgown was soaked in blood and Abigail felt a stab of fear. She did her best to get Julia to the jail as quickly as possible. By the time she staggered through the door, she was almost carrying the woman.
Maude and Rose hurried over to help and Abigail released her grip on Julia. Betsy noticed the blood and quickly moved all the children to a different cell then busied herself with hanging up a sheet to block any view of Julia and what might happen. Maude handed Abigail some rags and she quickly replaced the ones Julia was wearing. She then bound them on as tightly as she could. Next, she tilted up Julia’s hips and legs as best she could with folded blankets and a couple of cushions. Abigail saw no sign that any of what she did was helping.
“I am going to have to get the doctor,” she said and dragged her hand through her hair, fleetingly wondering what had happened to the ribbon that she had tied it back with. “I’ve never dealt with bleeding this bad.”
“Nor I,” said Maude, and Rose shook her head in an echo of Maude’s words. “She can’t last long if it doesn’t stop. Should we take her to him?”
“I’ll bring him back. Moving her now could only add to the problem. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Take your rifle,” called Rose as Abigail ran to the door.
“I planned on that.” She grabbed her rifle from where it leaned against the wall just inside the door and, after a careful survey of the street, bolted for the infirmary.
She had barely gotten inside the door of the infirmary when the doctor appeared at her side. He looked at her in shock, but she had no idea why nor the time or patience to find out. It was hard enough to ignore the sounds and smells of wounded men.
“Julia is bleeding too much,” she blurted out.
“I thought you said the birth went well.”
“It did or so I thought. She was bleeding but not badly, no worse than any other I have helped. Now it is just flowing out of her and I can’t stop it.”
“What have you done for her?”
“Tied her rags on as tightly as I could and raised up her hips and legs. It isn’t really helping.”
“I see. I’ll look at her, but you need to finish up here for me.” He put a threaded needle in her hand. “It is a long shallow cut low on the belly. Didn’t go deep enough to open him up but still needs closing.” He turned and pushed her gently toward the nearest bed.
“Matthew!” she cried out when she saw the man sprawled on that bed.
“It’s not deep,” the doctor said in a firm, steady voice. “He jumped back in time. Are you going to be able to do this?”
Abigail took a deep breath and, as she let it out slowly, she wrestled down her fear. “I can do it.”
“Good. I’ll go see if there is anything I can do for Julia.”
“She is in the jail,” she told him as he started to leave.
Forcing herself to think only of closing the wound, Abigail hurried to Matthew’s side. His eyes were closed but, she was fairly sure he was not sleeping. Looking at what the doctor had on his table, she found something to clean off the wound area. The cut was a long ugly slice across his belly and he was extremely lucky that it had not been deeper.
What really troubled her was how difficult she found it to make that first stitch. She had stitched up a lot of wounds, yet the thought of running a needle through Matthew’s flesh made her stomach churn. Scolding herself for cowardice and sternly reminding herself of how important it was to close his wound in order to stave off infection, she finally took that first stitch and proceeded to work with her usual speed.
Matthew grit his teeth against the pain. Forcing open one eye he realized it was Abbie stitching him up. He looked around for the doctor, did not see him anywhere, then looked back at Abbie who was busy working with her usual concentration and speed. When she tied off the stitching and sat back, the way she stared at his wound and covered her mouth gave him the distinct feeling that she was trying not to laugh. Since he saw nothing funny about a stomach wound, shallow or not, he frowned at her.
“Abbie,” he called, and she looked at him in surprise. “Why are ye here?”
“The doctor had to go see if he can help Julia. I did not realize you were the one who needed stitching. I worked as fast as I could,” she said as she carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. “Any other wounds?”
“The doctor already tended to them. Two.” He appreciated the look of worry on her face as she hurriedly searched him for signs of the wounds. “One wee scrape on my arm and a through and through wound on my leg.”
