Deborah shook her head. “I was trickier than they were. That’s all.”
“It’s a good thing. We were all surprised to follow the sound of the gunfire and find you holed up in that hayloft.”
“I just did what Aaron taught me to do. I shot straight and hit what I aimed at.”
Tim shook his head. “I think we’re all impressed with the way you handled things. Now we need the doc to patch Aaron up and all will be well.”
"Let's just hope that doctor rides as fast as David claimed," Deborah said, finishing up with the wound. She covered it with a clean cloth, her fingers lingering for a moment on Aaron's arm. "You stay with us, you hear?"
"Wouldn't dream of leaving," Aaron murmured, managing a weak grin.
"Good," Deborah said, her voice firm but kind. "Because I'm not done fussing over you yet."
The doctor's buggy clattered to a halt outside Deborah's home. She stood on the porch, wringing her hands in anticipation. The door creaked open, and the doctor stepped out, his bag in hand.
"Show me to the patient," he said curtly, tipping his hat at Deborah.
"Right this way, Doctor," she replied, leading him inside.
Aaron lay still on the bed, a grimace etched across his face. The doctor knelt beside him, examining the wound with a critical eye. He shook his head slowly, tsking under his breath.
"Mrs. Tudor, I won't sugarcoat it. This is going to be a tough one. Likely to get infected, being as ugly as it is," he remarked, glancing up at her.
Deborah swallowed hard, nodding. "Just tell me what to do, Doctor."
"Keep it clean, for starters. Change the dressing twice a day, and make sure he drinks plenty of water. If fever sets in, send someone for me straight away."
"I will, Doctor. Thank you."
As the doctor packed up his things, there were loud sounds outside. Brenda burst through the door, followed by Amy, Cassandra, Erna, Faith, Gail, Hannah, Imogene, and Jane, their faces flushed from the ride over.
"Deb! We came as soon as we heard," Brenda exclaimed, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room. "How can we help?"
Deborah sighed in relief. "I'm sure glad to see all of you. The doctor just left, and Aaron needs careful watching."
"Then careful watching he shall have," Cassandra chimed in, her voice soft but determined.
"Let's get to work, ladies," Brenda announced, rolling up her sleeves. "We've got a ranch to run and a man to mend."
"First things first," Erna interjected. "Who's making soup? Aaron's going to need his strength."
"Charlotte’s working on that now,” Deborah said, a small smile breaking through her worry. "That's one less thing on my mind."
"Rest easy, Deb," Brenda reassured her. "Together, there's nothing we can't handle."
"Thank you, Brenda," Deborah said, feeling the weight on her shoulders lighten ever so slightly. "It means the world to me."
"Anytime, Deb," Brenda replied with a wink. "After all, what are sisters for?"
Deborah watched as the women dispersed, their skirts swishing against the wooden floorboards. "Amy, Hannah, could you two handle the milking?" she asked, her voice surprisingly steady given the churn of worry in her stomach.
"Course we can, Deb," Amy replied with a cheerful nod, already moving toward the door with Hannah close behind.
"Imogene, Jane, gather eggs, please. And keep an eye out for any stray ones the hens might've hidden," Deborah added, her blue eyes scanning the group for volunteers.
"Got it, Deb," said Jane, tipping an imaginary hat. Imogene just smiled and followed, her quiet demeanor a steady presence.
"Erna, Faith," Deborah continued, her gaze now landing on the remaining women, "would you mind searching for the ranch hands? We need to know how they fared."
