Hurt. If there were injuries, Audrey would be there to help.
After several moments of watching the open doorway, he wasn’t able to snag either of the two people who sprinted past. He could call out and hope someone heard him, but the last thing he wanted to do was pull away someone who was rendering aid.
He eyed the walking sticks. This might be the right opportunity for their first use.
He lifted the injured leg from the bed down to the floor, just to keep from using the hip too much. It had been so long since he’d even moved his injured side, other than sliding up and down in the bed. The joint ached, but that feeling had grown far too familiar.
Positioning the walking sticks, he pulled himself upright, supporting his entire body on his good leg. The poles were a good height as he placed them under his arms. Maybe a tiny bit tall, but stretching up helped him keep from putting weight on the injured hip.
At first, he tried to walk the sticks forward one at a time as he would his legs, but that forced him to put weight on the injured side. So he positioned the base of the poles in front of him, then swung his body forward. Better.
The cacophony of sounds continued outside the room as he struggled forward, one swing at a time.
At last, he reached the door and peered both ways. People were clustered in the hallway to the left. At first, it looked like they were spilling out of the Durands’ apartment. But most seemed focused on the opening in the stone wall that must be the new quarters Evan MacManus was building.
The knot that had been forming in his belly pulled tighter. Had someone been injured by loose stones? That earthquake could have sent rocks rolling around. But enough to cause this much commotion?
He swung forward more slowly, staying against the wall, as far out of the way as he could. He sought out familiar faces—Audrey or her father, one of the Durands, or even one of the council members who’d come to talk with him. Anyone who might tell him what was going on. Of course, they might be just as likely to send him back to the Moreaus’ apartment.
A young woman who stood back from the fray looked a good bit like Charlotte, Brielle’s younger sister, the one who had brought them food during those days he’d been barely coherent from the fever.
He swung forward, tucking his crutches as close together as he could to maneuver through the crowd. The young woman stood with her hands wrapped around her middle, worry lining her face as she looked toward the crude doorwaythat marked the new construction. She was so focused that she didn’t notice his approach.
“Miss Charlotte?” He had to raise his voice over the din around them.
She startled and jerked her attention to him. He could tell the moment she recognized him, and that recognition didn’t seem to relax her any.
Her jaw worked. “What are you—”
To keep her from finishing that question and trying to send him back to bed, he nodded toward the opening in the rock. “What happened? How many are hurt?”
The distraction worked well, for her attention quickly swiveled back to the entrance. That intense worry muddled her features again, and she wrapped her hands tighter around herself. “A rockslide. Evan and another man are closed in behind it. We don’t know if they’re hurt or not.”
Levi’s senses jumped to alert. “Can they get them out? Why is everyone just standing here?”
“Brielle and Papa are helping to organize the work to clear a path. Andre said the hallway they’re trying to open is tiny, only big enough for one person at a time.”
He stared at the rough opening, at the people standing around outside doing nothing. Surely they would all be willing to help if a job could be found for them. But if there really was such small space inside, passing rocks out of the chamber might be the only thing these bystanders could do.
He wouldn’t even be able to accomplish that small task with these crutches, though in truth, it didn’t appear his aid would be missed among all these able bodies. Still, as he stood and waited beside Charlotte, the lack of action rubbed the raw ends of his nerves.
He leaned close enough to Charlotte to be heard without raising his voice. “Is Audrey in there?”
She nodded. “Her father, too.”
Frustration sluiced through him. He should be there helping. He’d never been one to stand idly by when there was work to be done—much less when men’s lives were at stake.
He glanced sideways at Charlotte. He could send her inside to see if there was something he could do. But what could a man hobbling on crutches possibly manage? He would be a nuisance. In the way.
So, he waited, leaning against the wall and resting the foot of his injured leg. He spent the next angst-filled minutes lifting petitions to the Father.
The group around them grew restless, conversations becoming noisier. From the rough doorway, a man stepped into the hallway, his dirt-smudged face grim as he worked his way through the crowd, turning down the corridor away from Levi.
Levi leaned toward Charlotte again. “Who is he and what is he doing?”
Her gaze still lingered on the figure disappearing down the hallway. “That’s Wesley. I don’t know where he’s going.”
The solemness the man’s expression had held wound Levi’s gut even tighter. The operation inside that room must not be going well. How long had it been since the rockslide? It felt like hours, but maybe only thirty minutes had passed. His leg ached, but he would bear the pain to stay here and know what was happening.
