“I thought you said there was a Dr. JT you’d sent the boy to fetch?” Leroy asked Mr. Clay.
Dr. Gatewood had already bent over the man on the floor. “JT is in Bachelor this evening.”
Willa bit her lip. Could she trust him? He’d made no secret of his disdain for their endeavor. And yet, she supposed the boy who went to get him had told him what had happened, and he’d still come to help . . .
“I believe it’s too late for that fellow,” Deputy Hawkins said.
The doctor stood and grabbed his bag. “It is. You may wish to alert the undertaker. Where is the other man?”
The deputy gestured to where Amos lay beside the two chairs in front of the wagon, before excusing himself to fetch the undertaker. The big man was breathing heavily, his eyes shut.
Willa stepped in front of him, Leroy just behind her, blocking Dr. Gatewood’s path. He stopped in front of her and looked down, his eyes, a dark blue in the dim livery, locking onto hers immediately. It made Willa almost forget what she needed to say.
“Amos is like another father to me,” she finally managed to utter. “I don’t . . . I can’t . . .”
“Can we trust you to treat him?” Leroy filled in for her.
Dr. Gatewood glanced at Leroy before turning his gaze back to Willa. “I’m a doctor. Nothing that came before this matters.” He paused, and Willa struggled to find her breath as his gaze seemed to pierce every doubt she had. He reached out and closed a hand around her arm, warm and reassuring. “You have my word that I’ll do all I can.”
Willa swallowed and nodded, wishing he might never let her go and yet desperately wanting him to get to Amos. “All right.”
He dropped his hand and glanced to Leroy, who nodded at him before looking curiously at Willa.
Dr. Gatewood set his bag down and dropped to the ground next to Amos, whose eyes were closed. Willa stared intently at Amos’s chest, waiting for it to rise and fall. It did, and she let out a breath before praying as she’d never prayed before. Leroy came up beside her and she looped an arm around his.
“It’ll be fine,” he said, his eyes on Amos. “He’ll come through this. A man can’t lift a horse and get taken down this easily.”
Willa took heart in his words. The doctor would patch Amos up, and then perhaps Papa would give him some of his Miracle Elixir to speed his healing along.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Dr. Gatewood said as he unwound the cloth from Amos’s shoulder. “But this tourniquet might have saved his life.”
No one said anything as Dr. Gatewood worked. He sent Mr. Clay for hot water, and then proceeded to examine the injury.
“It lodged into a good place,” the doctor said, and Willa wanted to laugh at his choice of words. She clamped a hand over her mouth. What was wrong with her? She felt as if she were on the verge of hysterics. She clung to Leroy and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm herself. Amos had to be all right. He just had to. What would she do without him? What would Papa do without him?
A clinking sound made her open her eyes again. The doctor had dropped the blood-covered bullet into a pail. Amos still breathed, in and out, as regularly as a clock kept time.He’ll be all right. He’ll be all right. He’ll be all right. Willa repeated the words over and over in her mind, soothing herself and forcing the panic to dissipate.
Dr. Gatewood worked diligently, his hands moving as if he’d done this a hundred times before. He was sure and efficient and yet careful. Willa began to forget the words she was repeating in her head as she grew mesmerized with his movements. He was gentle when he cleaned the wound and seemed to keep one eye on Amos’s face as he stitched it up, as if he wanted to ensure the man wasn’t in pain. Willa didn’t know what she’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t this kind, adept manner.
“It’s best not to move him too much right now. I’d keep him comfortable here tonight, and then tomorrow, if he’s doing well, consider other arrangements. If he appears to develop a fever, send someone for me or JT.” Dr. Gatewood stood, drying his hands.
Leroy stepped around Willa. “Thank you. I apologize for doubting you, although . . .” He cleared his throat. “What do we owe you?”
“I haven’t set up a practice here, and I’m not certain what Dr. JT would have charged. Whatever you think is fair,” Dr. Gatewood said.
Leroy gave a short laugh. “You saved a good friend’s life. I doubt we can ever repay that. But wait here and let me see what I can get for you.” He disappeared inside the wagon.
Mr. Clay and the boy who’d gone to fetch the doctor took the bucket of water and the pail with the bullet, leaving just the doctor, Willa, and Amos outside the wagons.
Willa knelt by Amos. He was breathing normally, and if it weren’t for the bandage around his shoulder, she would have assumed he’d simply had too much to drink and fell asleep on the livery floor. She smiled at his sleeping form, memories of him lifting her onto his shoulders even though she’d been too grown for such things at twelve, teaching her how to identify birds and how to get along with horses, his loud but tuneless voice singing as they drove the wagons across plains and mountain passes. She couldn’t imagine her life without Amos in it.
“He means a lot to you,” Dr. Gatewood said from behind her.
Willa stood, brushing the straw from her coat and skirts. “He and Leroy are like uncles to me. Did you know he can speak to horses?”
The doctor lifted an eyebrow.
“It’s true. They don’t speak back, of course, but they seem to understand him.” She glanced at Amos, smiling. “He’s such an imposing man that people are often afraid of him. But he’s truly one of the most gentle souls I’ve ever known.” When she looked back at Dr. Gatewood, he was smiling at her. And not the teasing, almost amused grin he’d given her each time they’d met. No, this was something else. Something genuine. As if something about her pleased him greatly.
