“I’ve got the wood,” she called as she trotted down the stairs. “Where do you . . .” Her mouth went completely dry at the sight that greeted her.
Dr. Jacob was tearing a piece of white cotton into strips. White cotton that must have belonged to his shirt at one time, for the man was bare to the waist. Well, not completely bare. He’d put his black vest back on. Not that it covered much. She still saw every play of his muscles as he tore the cotton. Very fine muscles, she couldn’t help but notice.
“Bring it over here.” He pointed to a spot on the floor beside his open medical bag.
Mollie swallowed hard, ordered her feet to move, and then complied. Forcing her gaze away from the fine pair of shoulders and biceps on display, she turned her attention to Adam. He lay still, appeared to be unconscious, but his chest continued to rise and fall. His left trouser leg had been cut from the hem to above the knee and spread wide. Blood stained his skin and a piece of white bone jabbed out of his flesh. Mollie dropped the wood and covered her mouth with her hand.
“You’re not going to faint on me, are you? I thought you were tougher than that.” The doctor’s disgruntled tone lit her temper.
She pulled her hand down and stiffened her spine. “Of course I’m not going to faint. I just didn’t know the break was so bad. It caught me by surprise—that’s all.”
“Well, get over your surprise and help me.” He gestured for her to station herself by Adam’s head. “I administered chloroform, so he won’t feel the pain, but I’ll still need you to hold him steady. I’m going to have to tug firmly on this leg to get it back into place.”
Mollie slid onto the floor and pressed her hands gently against Adam’s slim shoulders. Then she nodded at the doctor. “I’m ready.”
He met her gaze, his eyes hard and confident, though there seemed a touch of compassion there, too. As if he knew how difficult it was for her to see Adam in such circumstances.
“I’ve sprayed the bone and surrounding tissue with a carbolic acid solution that will reduce the risk of infection,” he explained as he took hold of Adam’s ankle, “but it’s essential that we get him to the surgery so I can clean his wound more thoroughly and get it closed as soon as possible.”
He glanced back up at her. “Are you ready?”
Mollie pressed firmly against Adam’s shoulders, pinning him to the ground. “Yes.”
Then, with a firm yank, he pulled Adam’s lower leg and twisted. Once the bone edges were in place, he gently released the leg and immediately began splinting it. Seeing what he was about, Mollie moved to his side and handed him the strips he’d torn from his shirt. He accepted her help with a nod, and in a manner of minutes they had Adam’s leg braced.
Doctor Jacob closed up his medical bag, shoved it into her hands, and bent to gather a still-unconscious Adam into his arms. “My horse is out front. Tie my bag to the saddle and wait for me.”
Mollie grabbed the doctor’s bag and dashed off. If the doc thought time was the enemy, then she’d not waste a single moment. She found his horse munching on a bit of grass beneath a stand of pines and took charge of the reins. By the time she had the bag secured behind the cantle, Doctor Jacob had arrived.
“Do you think you can hold him for a moment?” He examined her slim stature with a doubtful look. “I can’t mount with the boy, so I’ll need you to hand him up to me.”
Mollie straightened her shoulders. “I’m stronger than I look, Doc. I’ll hold him as long as you need me to.”
He raised a brow but offered no argument. After gesturing for her to come close to the horse’s side, he handed Adam into her arms.
She’d often carried Adam around on her back when they’d played, and he’d never seemed very heavy. But his limp form dragged at her arms like solid lead. Not that she’d let the doctor know that. She braced her knees and leaned backward to take as much of his weight on her chest as possible. Thankfully, Doctor Jacob mounted swiftly and reached down for Adam in no more than a handful of heartbeats. Still, her arms burned something dreadful as she tried to lift him up. The doctor had no such issues. He bent sideways in the saddle and collected Adam from her as easily as if she were handing him a pair of saddlebags.
“Take the reins,” the doc said once he was settled with Adam. “Lead Galen to town at a walk. We don’t want to jostle this leg too much.”
Mollie did as instructed, taking the most direct route to Dr. Bradshaw’s office. They reached the clinic less than ten minutes later. Mollie hurried to tie the new doc’s horse to the hitching post, casting a worried glance over her shoulder at Adam’s limp form.
Dr. Bradshaw stepped out onto the porch, drying his hands with a white towel. His smile of greeting faded as he caught sight of Adam.
“Mollie?” He tossed the towel over the porch railing and headed down the steps. “What happened?”
“I need to use your surgery,” Doctor Jacob announced without so much as a howdy. He carefully slid from Galen’s back, Adam still in his arms. “The boy’s got a compound fracture of the tibia. Bone’s been set, but I need to flush the wound and check for fragments before I suture him.”
Dr. Bradshaw frowned. “You’d be better off just amputating. The boy’s gonna lose that leg anyway. And he could lose his life if infection sets in, which it always does with this type of break.”
Mollie’s fingers froze on the saddle straps she’d been untying. Lose his leg? Adam? No! He was too young to face a life without being able to walk or run or ride a horse. But losing a leg was better than losing his life.
“I’m not amputating,” Doctor Jacob growled, his face nearly savage in his denial. “I sawed off more limbs than I care to count during the war, and I’m not about to subject this child to that fate.”
“Then I’m not letting you into my surgery.” Dr. Bradshaw crossed his pudgy arms over his chest and glared mulishly, his cheeks reddening around his white sideburns. “I won’t be a party to a procedure that will end up costing that boy his life just because the war left a bad taste in your mouth.”
“Haven’t you heard of Dr. Lister’s advancements with carbolic acid? I’ve already started the treatment and have every confidence we can save the boy’s leg. If infection does set in, there will be time to amputate later should it become necessary.”
Dr. Bradshaw’s face had progressed from red to an alarming shade of purple. “How dare you question my professional judgment? I’ve been a respected physician for thirty years. My experience is vastly superior to you and this Lister person. I’ve heard of his theories. Poppycock, every one of them. Infections are caused by miasma, and once the body is opened up to this bad air, infection is certain to follow. I suggest, sir, that you hand that boy into my care at once and go about your business.”
“My business is this boy.” The new doc shifted his hold on Adam and edged closer to the clinic steps. “I’d hoped we could work together for a week or so as a matter of professional courtesy as I got settled, but I see now that I’m just going to have to ask you to step aside. I’m relieving you of duty, Dr. Bradshaw.”
Mollie’s gaze bounced from one man to the other, her pulse throbbing as tensions escalated. Questions volleyed inside her as well. What treatment would be best for Adam? Was Dr. Bradshaw’s suggestion the safest thing, or could new techniques spare Adam’s leg?
“Who do think you are to order me about?” Dr. Bradshaw demanded.
“I’m Dr. Jacob Sadler, new town physician hired on by the Cold Spring city council. I’m your replacement. Now step aside. I have a patient to tend.”
Sadler? Mollie’s mind spun so fast she felt a little dizzy. Was his name some kind of crazy coincidence, or could he be—?
“Mollie?” The new doc turned to look at her. His face remained hard, but a touch of vulnerability softened the edges of his eyes. “I’m going to need your help.”
“I’m right behind ya, Doc.” She wasn’t about to leave Adam. But even if Doc Sadler had been fixin’ to treat a complete stranger, she
’d still follow him up those stairs. The man oozed self-assurance, yet his eyes had pleaded for understanding. As if he needed her to believe in him. Her. Mollie Tate. As if her opinion mattered.
Dr. Bradshaw sputtered but sidled out of the way when the new doc climbed the steps with Adam in his arms. Mollie made to follow, but Dr. Bradshaw grasped her elbow as she passed.
“Don’t be a party to this, Mollie Tate,” he hissed. “He’ll kill that boy. You mark my words.”
She patted the old man’s shoulder while she tugged her sleeve free of his hold. “I know you mean well, Dr. Bradshaw. But if there’s a chance to save Adam’s leg, we’ve got to try.” She glanced through the clinic’s open doorway. “I believe Doc Sadler can do it, and I aim to give him all the help I can.”
“God have mercy on the lot of you, then,” the old doc grumbled.
Mollie just smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll be praying that he does.”
Chapter Three
Mollie’s quiet statement of confidence filled an empty place in Jacob he hadn’t been aware existed. He’d paused only a moment in the entry to get his bearings, but it was long enough for her words to wash over him. And what a gift they had been. Buoyed by her faith, he strode through the parlor area and located the surgery in a back room. He laid Adam down on the table and proceeded to wash his hands with soap and water thanks to an ewer and basin left on the counter of a medical cabinet. Soft footsteps behind him announced Mollie’s arrival.
“In my bag is an instrument kit,” he stated. “Open it and set it on the counter while I cut away the rest of Adam’s trouser leg.”
The girl made a perfect nurse, following his instructions, anticipating his needs, all without gabbing his ear off with pointless questions. After scrubbing her own hands clean, she set out his instruments, sprayed them with the carbolic acid solution, and then handed them to him the moment he requested them. In short order, they had the wound clean and sutured.
“Look in the cabinets for some bandages.” Jacob nodded toward the glass-doored shelves along the wall as he washed the last of the blood from his hands.
“Linen or cotton?” Mollie asked. “I see both.”
“Linen. The more porous the better.”
She scrunched her nose as she compared two sets of linen bandages. “Does that mean you want bigger holes?”
Jacob hid his grin. “Yep.”
It was so refreshing to deal with someone who cared more about getting things right than hiding a lack of knowledge. Maybe he should offer her a job working in the clinic. Heaven knew she had enough energy to keep the place going. And judging by the way she interacted with both Adam and the bristling Dr. Bradshaw, she had a nurturing temperament that would put folks at ease. Not to mention her lack of squeamishness. She hadn’t faltered once during the surgery, had calmly kept pace with him. Yes, she’d definitely be an asset.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he retrieved the gypsum powder from his bag. It wouldn’t hurt matters any that she was nice to look at. Eyes that hinted at mischief when they weren’t clouded with worry over the boy in her care, full lips that curved easily, and a slender figure bearing enough curves to turn a man’s head. He should know. They’d turned his head often enough. Not that he’d allowed her to distract him. On the way to town, though, it’d been impossible not to notice the sway of her hips or her willowy waist as she led Galen down the path in front of him.
“Here you go, Doc.” She set several rolls of linen bandages on the tray beside his elbow.
“Thanks.” Jacob cleared his throat. All right, so maybe he’d allowed her to distract him just a touch. “We’ll need a sponge and clean water as well.”
While she dumped out the old water and poured new, Jacob unrolled the first bandage and began rubbing the gypsum powder into it.
“Is that some kind of medicine to keep the wound from getting infected?” Mollie leaned close, peering over his shoulder. Evidence of other curves made themselves known.
Jacob stepped closer to the table. “No. This will make a plaster. Once we get Adam’s leg wrapped, we’ll moisten the bandages and work the gypsum until it forms a thick casing. When it dries, it will harden and protect the leg, keeping the bones in place until they heal.” He began working the powder into the second bandage. Mollie came around to his side and started in on a third, mimicking his technique.
“I suppose if it keeps the leg away from that bad air that Doc Bradshaw was talking about,” she said, brushing his fingers as she reached for more gypsum, “it might help keep infection out as well as keeping the bones together.”
He tilted his head to consider her more closely. “An intelligent observation, Miss Tate. Keeping the air out, as well as dirt and other impurities, can only help.”
Pink tinged her cheeks, but it was the grin that blossomed across her face that stilled his heart. Their eyes met and held for a moment before she returned her attention to the bandages. “I’m glad Adam will have the extra protection.”
“He’ll still need to stay off the leg for at least six weeks, maybe longer, and he won’t be able to get the plaster wet. However, as long as we don’t find any sign of infection in the first few days, I expect he’ll recover.”
Her hands stilled, and her gaze once again found his. “Thank you, Dr. Sadler. For what you did at the church, for what you’ve done here, for . . . everything.”
This time Jacob was the one to turn away first. “Yes, well, the true healing remains in God’s hands.”
“Of course.” She laid her fingers atop his. His entire body stilled. “But God is the one who put you in the right place at the right time. He’s working through you, and for that, I am grateful.”
Mollie pulled back her hand and reached for another bandage. It took Jacob a moment to recover. Not just from her touch, but from her words. How often had he prayed for God to work through him to heal those who sought his care? Yet the flood of wounded during the war had drained the optimism from his soul. So much death. So many left maimed—by his hand. It had carved gouges of doubt into his faith, left him questioning his calling.
Hearing Mollie credit him as being a conduit for the Lord’s healing bound up those still-oozing inner wounds in a way he’d been helpless to accomplish on his own during his two-year sabbatical from regular practice.
“Would you consider staying on as my nurse?” Keeping her near suddenly seemed of paramount importance. “You could organize the clinic inventory, assist me with patients, perhaps do some cleaning when things are slow. I’d pay you, of course.”
Her eyes went wide, and she blinked several times before attempting to answer. “You don’t even know me, Doc. Why would you—?”
“Can you read and write?” he interrupted, not wanting to answer her question.
“Y-yes.”
“Then the offer stands. I know everything else that I need to know. You’re good with people, you don’t faint at the sight of blood, and you’re a quick study.” Jacob set to work wrapping the gypsum bandages around Adam’s leg. “You don’t have to answer right away. Just consider it. All right?”
Mollie stared at the new doc, too numb to do much more than nod and hand him another bandage. Be his nurse? Mercy, how she wanted to say yes. To work beside the man who’d rescued Adam, the man who actually saw qualities to admire when he looked at her. No fat pocket had ever tempted her more.
And that was the problem. Dr. Sadler didn’t know her history, didn’t know how her light fingers used to pick plump pockets along the docks of Galveston. She couldn’t accept his offer without revealing the truth of her past, not with a clean conscience. Yet once he learned the truth, the light of respect glowing in his eyes would dull into pity or, worse, contempt.
Uncle Curtis had saved her from that life, had given her a home, had introduced her to Jesus and a forgiveness that could take a stained life and make it whiter than snow. She couldn’t dishonor such a gift by burying the truth. Maybe she should just turn the offer
down. Keep her distance. But in the past hour, she’d felt a part of something that mattered. Not that keeping house for Mrs. Peabody didn’t matter. It was honorable work and provided her with a place to stay. But working in the clinic? She’d be helping to save lives, to ease pain and suffering. A chance to be a part of that . . . well, it might be worth the risk.
“Hand me that basin and sponge, will you?” Dr. Sadler tucked in the end of the last bandage, then tipped his head in the direction of the basin of clean water she’d prepared earlier. His hands were white from the plaster dust, as were hers.
Mollie grabbed a towel to wipe off the worst of the dust before handing him the basin, but she needn’t have bothered. He plunged his hands into the water, dust and all, grabbed the sponge, and started moistening the bandages. A paste formed, and he molded and shaped it until it looked the way he wanted. Then he propped Adam’s foot on a thick cushion so air could flow around all sides of the bandages.
“It will need to set and harden before he can be moved,” the new doc said as he washed the white plaster from his hands and forearms. A dusting of white powder had even found his chest, standing out in stark contrast between the closures of his black vest and tempting her to brush at with her towel. Mollie gnawed on her bottom lip. She really needed to find the man a shirt.
Doc Bradshaw had already cleared out all his personal belongings from the clinic a week ago, so there wasn’t much chance of finding anything in the bureau drawers. The new doc hadn’t had a carpetbag or anything tied to his horse, so he must have arranged for his things to be transported from Liberty through one of the freighters. Which meant they likely wouldn’t arrive until later tonight. Maybe Mrs. Peabody would let the doc borrow one of her late husband’s shirts. Or Uncle Curtis . . .
“I take it you know the boy’s family?” the new doc asked. “His parents will need to be informed of what happened. I’m sure they’ll want to be by his side when he awakes.”