Mary arrived with the hot water and cloths, and Jeane set to work cleaning the head wound. It was deep and would need stitches, but it had stopped bleeding as much.
“Cecily, hold his head still for me,” Jeane instructed, threading a needle with steady hands even though her heart was racing.
She worked quickly but carefully, stitching the gash closed while Cecily whispered prayers under her breath.
When she was done, she wrapped a clean bandage around Thomas’ head and moved to his arm.
“This is going to be the hard part,” Jeane said quietly. “I need to set the bone. It’ll hurt, even though he’s unconscious.”
“Do what ye must,” Cecily said, her voice stronger now.
Jeane looked up and realized Fergus was standing in the doorway, watching. His arms were crossed over his chest, but his eyes were intent on her.
“I need someone strong to hold him still,” Jeane said. “When I set the bone, he might thrash.”
“I’ll do it,” Fergus said immediately, moving to the bedside.
He positioned himself at Thomas’ shoulders, holding the boy firmly but gently.
Jeane took a deep breath and felt along the break, visualizing how the bones needed to align. She’d done this before but neveron someone so young, never on someone who might not survive other injuries she couldn’t yet see.
“On three,” she said. “One… two…”
She pulled and twisted on two, and Thomas let out a scream that made everyone in the room flinch. His body tried to jerk away, but Fergus held him steady.
“Almost there,” Jeane muttered, feeling the bones slide back into place with a sickening sensation. “Got it.”
Thomas went limp again, his scream fading to whimpers.
Jeane quickly splinted the arm, wrapping it tight to keep the bones aligned. Her hands were shaking now, adrenaline making her fingers tremble.
“What else?” Fergus asked quietly. “What else can ye do?”
“Now, we wait,” Jeane said, sitting back on her heels. “We wait for him to wake up.”
“He’ll wake,” Cecily said fiercely. “He has to.”
Jeane mixed a poultice for the head wound and applied it gently then checked his pulse again. Still weak but steady.
“I’ll stay with him,” Jeane said. “Through the night if I have to. If doesnae wake up by tomorrow…” She didn’t finish the sentence. They all knew what that would mean.
“I’ll stay too,” Cecily said.
“And I’ll have food and drink brought up,” Fergus added. “Whatever ye need.”
Jeane looked up at him, surprised. “Ye daenae have to.”
“Aye, I do,” he said firmly. “This is one of me clan. And ye’re doin’ everythin’ ye can to save him.”
Hours passed. The sun set, and candles were lit around the room. Cecily dozed fitfully in a chair, exhausted from crying and worrying. Jeane sat on the edge of the bed, monitoring Thomas’ breathing, checking his pulse regularly.
Fergus had left and returned several times, bringing food that Jeane barely touched, asking for updates in a quiet voice.
It was nearing midnight when Thomas’ eyes finally fluttered open.
“Ma?” he whispered, his voice weak and confused.
Cecily jerked awake and rushed to his side, sobbing with relief. “Oh, me boy, me sweet boy.”
