The older woman gestured at Justine, and then spoke to Ophelia.
“Come over here, Justine. To catch? I think?” Ophelia shook her head. “I think she is afraid Prudence might faint.”
“I’m not going to faint,” Prudence said.
Mr. Moon strode over. “I’ll catch her.”
The older woman spoke again.
“No,” Ophelia said, “Mr. Moon, you are to stand in front of her and hold her hand.”
The older woman continued, and Ophelia blushed. “She says you are to tell her, er, tell her that you love her. You are to distract her with love words.”
Justine grinned. “That’s not really what she said, is it?”
“More or less,” Ophelia said. “My German isn’t perfect.”
“I’m surprised you have any at all.” Justine let Frau Brunner push her hard flush against Prudence, bracing her body against Prudence’s back.
“We’ve been here for months, Justine. What was I supposed to do? Knit a hat?” Ophelia frowned.
They argued and then Prudence screamed as a wet sucking sound shut them all up. Justine stared at the older woman. Everyone in the room was still, staring at Prudence. No one had heard a noise like that in their lives.
“Oh my,” Prudence said, regaining her composure. “I do feel much better.”
The healer spoke to Ophelia, and Ophelia asked some questions back, before she said to the room, “Prudence’s shoulder was out of place. But it is now back in. She will be sore, but will recover fully.”
Mr. Moon dropped his face, kissing Prudence’s hands.
“I hope they are all that easy to fix,” Justine said. Ophelia shot her a warning glance to keep quiet. Right. Lord Rascomb was clearly not that easy to fix.
Prudence stood, and Ophelia caught her. “She wants you to have syrup of Althea. There’s some in my room. Justine?”
“I’ll bring it to your room,” Justine said, noting the dark circles under both their eyes.
“Eleanor?” Ophelia asked, gesturing.
Eleanor glanced at the healer woman, clearly wary. Tristan helped her over. Justine glanced out the window. It looked like late afternoon, which meant it was even later. She calculated in her head how long it would take to get to Zurich, find a doctor, and return. Francis would be here soon.
She followed Prudence and Mr. Moon out of the dining room and up the steps. She peered out the front window of the inn, seeing movement at the donkey carts. Karl was outside tending them, no doubt. As she climbed the steps, her feet heavy, she tried to remember to not be selfish. To help and not wish someone would come to check on her. To be thankful that she was fine. Everything was fine.
**
Karl felt as if he were already sleeping while he worked, his body screaming out for rest, but the day was far from over. He stowed the carts in the barns, and penned the donkeys, brushing them and giving them extra food for working so hard. With the dining room taken over as the hospital, Onkel Peter told him he was allowed to take a guest room. A real bed for the first time in months. It sounded like heaven.
And then Mr. Brewer showed up with a Zurich physician. More donkeys to care for. He’d have to find a room for the physician, and attend those needs. He was hungry enough that his stomach felt turned inside out, despite the feast he’d had back at the church. The rest of them had gone to sleep, so Karl had managed to eat the rest of the soup, half of the cheese, and three apples. He left the bread for the morning. No one had complained about their rations.
Still, he had to attend that task which fell in front of him, and then whatever awaited him inside the inn. Fresh linens, or fetching more food from the village. Did they have the medications they needed? The apothecary in town had things forbasic needs, but not all that might be required for someone in Lord Rascomb’s position. Was Kara still on staff? If she could run those errands, perhaps he could sleep.
He wondered if Frau Erhart was capable of dealing with Frau Moon and Frau Bridewell. She had healed mountaineering injuries he’d had in the past—but those had all been some form of bone setting. He’d heard the moan of agony earlier, which he’d assumed was from Frau Moon. Despite the sling, her arm had not hung correctly. He would check on them before he rested. But not until after the donkeys were seen to.
Onkel Peter clapped him on the back. “I will take care of the guests and their mounts. Get some sleep. Greta will bring you a tray. We’ll need you at full strength tomorrow.”
He’d never been so grateful.
Onkel Peter shooed him away with his hand. “Go rest. You’ve been brave and strong. Be proud of what you accomplished. You brought everyone home.”
He may have brought everyone back, but one was still more than halfway to death, and two were injured. He’d set out with six clients, and half were worse off than when they started. It wasn’t a good ratio.
