Dawn’s shoulders sagged. How could she do this again? She had nothing left to give of herself. Dusk had fallen, but she looked to the gate where two horses were, as well as several men. It appeared one rider stood beside his mount while the other was laid over the saddle. Was the man even alive?
Dawn pinched the bridge of her nose as she turned back to Rebecca. “Has someone fetched Mrs. Brooke?” The experienced woman had served as a nurse with the Continental Army before following her husband to Bryan’s Station. Even after becoming widowed, she continued as the station’s nurse in the absence of a physician. Since the siege had ensued a few days prior, her expertise had proved invaluable.
“She was still with Mrs. Taylor, so Ma went to fetch her herself. She told me to come wake you, then go back to keep an eye on the children.”
Dawn nodded. “Thank you, Rebecca.” She attempted to offer some semblance of a smile before she turned and trudged toward the gate. She had told Mrs. Abbott she could not handle any more. Why had she not sought out another woman to help with the injured? Or asked Rebecca to assist and allowed Ruth to watch over the younger children? Though, with the state the one rider appeared to be in, she may have wanted to save her eldest daughter from the trauma. And there were few women in the fort who had not been impacted in some way by the battle.
So the task at hand fell to her. Dawn crossed her arms as though to warm herself and walked toward the group as the men worked to unload the one man from the saddle. With the care they took, he must still be alive. Dawn quickened her steps.
At the sound of crunching grass behind her, she glanced around to find Mrs. Abbott and Mrs. Brooke dashing toward her. When she turned back, her gaze landed upon the first rider and his mount. Dawn slowed to a stop. It could not be.
Samson’s coat seemed darker in dusk, but his coloring was unmistakable, even with his head hung low to the ground in apparent exhaustion. And beside him, even without his waistcoat, she would recognize that man anywhere. For he bore the brown hair and thin build of her husband. “Jacob!” She screamed his name and took off at a run.
CHAPTER 19
A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps.
PROVERBS 16:9
Jacob winced at the pain that ricocheted through his chest as Dawn’s body collided with his, but he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her and relishing the feel of her body against his. For he had thought he would never feel that sensation again. Thank You, God, for allowing me to come back to her.
After a moment, he eased back. As much as he wanted to enjoy Dawn’s presence, Edmund’s care was more important. “You have no idea how glad I am to see your face again, but our reunion must be postponed.” He nodded to where several men had hauled Edmund from his horse and held him by all four limbs.
Dawn gasped. Her hand left Jacob’s body and flew to her mouth. “That is…” Her voice cracked.
“Yes. We need to get him inside now. It is bad, Dawn. It is a miracle he is still alive.” Jacob whispered the words for only his wife and the two women behind her to hear.
Mrs. Brooke gave Edmund a quick sweep of her eyes before she started issuing orders. “I need somewhere better than a bed to tend to this one. Elijah, how big is the table in your cabin?”
“Big enough. Come.” Elijah led the men carrying Edmund to his corner cabin, where Edmund was laid out upon the table. The man groaned when the arrow protruding from his back caught on the edge.
While the men still supported his left side, Mrs. Brooke pulled a sheathed knife from her pocket. “Lamps. I need lamps,” she called out as she unsheathed the knife and began sawing at the arrow. As soon as the back was removed, the men slid Edmund farther onto the table. He groaned again. Each pained sound tore at Jacob, but at least they meant that Edmund was still alive.
“I need all the linens and bandages you can find, as much hot water as you can prepare, and I need a sewing kit. I will not have this man dying on my watch if I can help it.” Mrs. Brooke’s face was set in determination as she cut Edmund’s garments from his upper half. Oil lamps had been brought into the room and set on the chairs and bench around them. Still, there was only a low amount of light.
Jacob swallowed.
“Does he have any other injuries besides the arrow?” Mrs. Brooke turned her attention to him.
Jacob dipped his chin. “After taking the arrow, he fell from his horse and was trampled.”
Mrs. Brooke’s eyes widened before she swept her gaze over Edmund’s body again. She whispered a string of words, likely a prayer. Then she leaned against the table, gripping it in her fingers so that the knuckles turned white. “How long ago?” Her voice was much quieter now than when she had barked orders.
“The battle happened early in the morning yesterday. Well before noon.”
Mrs. Brooke shook her head before she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “The arrow must be taken out first. Once that wound has been tended to, I will assess for other injuries.” She looked at Dawn and Mrs. Abbott, who both nodded before taking up positions on either side of her.
Jacob stared at Dawn as the lamplight gave her a soft glow. She shared the same emotionally spent but determined expression as Mrs. Brooke. She seemed prepared for whatever may come their way. His precious wife must have been assisting with the injured soldiers as they returned to the fort. How many times had she hoped the face before her would be his? And how many times had she been disappointed? Had she given up hope when dusk cloaked them in darkness? His chest ached.
Mrs. Brooke pulled the arrow from Edmund’s abdomen, and blood bubbled up from the wound. Without instruction, Dawn pressed fabric to the wound to staunch the bleeding. When Mrs. Brooke held her knife over her hands, she removed the fabric and pressure long enough for the other woman to widen the wound, then resumed her position. Mrs. Abbott handed Mrs. Brooke a needle and thread, and only then did Dawn back away.
Mrs. Brooke slid her fingers inside Edmund’s rent flesh. First, she stitched the unseen wound inside, then she sewed his skin closed. When the task was complete and no bleeding remained, she stood up straight and took a deep breath.
After washing the blood from her hands, Mrs. Brooke examined the rest of his body for injuries. “It does not appear that he has any broken bones that I can find. We may know more when he wakes. But for now, I have done all I can. We must watch for infection and pray that it does not set up.” She pulled a quilt over his body before she settled in the chair beside him. “I will take first watch.”
Mrs. Abbott washed her hands, then squeezed Mrs. Brooke’s shoulder. “Send Mrs. Craig for me if you need anything before I come to relieve you.”
Mrs. Brooke offered her a weary smile.
