"One pot of cold and one boiling." She focused on resting the hand on the floor so she could get laudanum for him. Too bad she hadn't brought chloroform, but this would have to do.
She was in the midst of stitching one of the muscles that had been completely severed when a voice broke through her concentration.
Jericho.
She didn't lift her gaze from her work, but she strained to hear what he was saying, and who he might be speaking to. It wasn't English, so he must be talking with Two Stones's cousin. When this was done, she would have to ask the man's name.
Jericho sounded upset. Maybe even angry. Or just...frustrated. Had something else happened?
Naomi had gone out to check on the children, so Jonah was the only one here with her and her patient. She glanced up at him. "What is Jericho saying?" He probably understood the language too.
His mouth pinched. "He's telling Tall Shadow he shouldn't have brought a stranger here."
She stiffened and turned to the open doorway. She couldn't see the men, but Jericho would hear if she called to him. Should she stop him? Would he feel she shouldn't interfere?
But she couldn't have him turning away patients in as dire need as this man. She sat back on her heels and called, "Jericho."
A moment later, he stepped into the cabin, his stride long and his expression worried. "What is it?" He reached her side and crouched, scanning the man lying before her.
The laudanum had taken effect, and the stranger lay with his lids half-lowered as he took in Jericho.
"Who are you?" Jericho sounded too brusque toward a man so badly injured.
Her own hands were bloody, so she couldn't touch Jericho's arm, but she leaned her shoulder against him. "He's hurt. He came for help, not to bother us."
Jericho's voice tightened. He dropped his volume. "Tall Shadow said he doesn't know the man, only that he's a miner. Tall Shadow rode up as a bear was mauling him. He shot the bear and thought he should bring this man here. He'd heard about what you did in Two Stones's village. That you’re a healer."
She managed an encouraging smile. "I'm glad he brought him." She refocused on her work. "Go scrub your hands well and you can help me."
He would see that kindness and caring went a long way when dealing with strangers. And a doctor didn't decide whether an injured person was worthy of care. If Jesus had done that, the entire world would have been doomed.
* * *
As he scrubbed his hands in the washbasin, Jericho's mind rebelled at the idea of a stranger—a miner—lying on the floor of his family's home. Dinah's caring ran too deep sometimes. Made her blind to safety. To wisdom.
He would help her…and make sure the man didn't bring harm. Then he would see the fellow on his way. After that, he would somehow get Dinah to see that they couldn't bring strangers into the house. That they had to be careful. That not everyone who came calling should be invited in.
But as he knelt beside her and she talked him through what she'd done and how she would finish stitching the man's arm back together, his belly churned. He wouldn't have been able to turn this fellow away either.
This stranger would have died without Dinah here to care for him. If he didn't bleed out this first day, the wound would have festered, and the blood poisoning would likely take him within the week. Long before he could get to another doctor.
In truth, someone with Dinah's skill was greatly needed in this territory.
But someoneelse.
A man. Who didn't live on the Coulter ranch.
Not the woman Jericho planned to make his wife.
At last, Dinah finished bandaging her work. The patient lay with his eyes closed. His chest still rose and fell, so he lived. It was hard to tell if he'd passed out or was simply exhausted.
The rest of Jericho’s brothers and Sean had returned from the herd and had even managed to milk the cow Jericho had chosen. Tall Shadow had ridden on, leaving the miner's horse and belongings in their barn. They still didn't know the man's name.
Dinah pushed up to her feet, and Jericho rose too. "I guess he can stay there for now."
Dinah spun to him, her eyes blazing. "Where else would he go, Jericho? The man is fighting for his life. We can't toss him out like used washwater."
She was right, of course. He hadn't meant that. He'd meant keeping him on the floor there might be better than trying to move him onto a bed. But he wouldn't get defensive, not after the strain she'd just been through during that detailed surgery.
