This story was originally posted as my first ever story 'One for the road'. I always new there was more to it though, so I decided to re-write it and its since changed beyond all recognition. Forgive me!
Chapter 7
Starsky didn't remember much about the journey back to Laurel's cabin. He knew they were moving because each time the travois hit a stone or root the jolt sent white hot spikes of pain throughout his entire body. He knew Laurel was being as careful as she could be and he was incredibly grateful that she'd found him, so he bit back as many of the groans as he could, but sometimes it was just too damned difficult. Mostly he drifted in a place somewhere between waking and sleeping.
Laurel stopped regularly to check on the brunette, adjusting the poles of the travois, wiping his forehead, but she knew she needed to get him back home as soon as she could. He was bleeding and he needed urgent care, so she pushed herself hard and finally, she arrived back at the small clearing and laid down her burden in front of the cabin.
Starsky was shivering now and that didn't help the pain at all. He looked sideways, squinting at the cabin and was reminded of the old 'Beverly Hillbillies' re-runs on television. It was a small squat building made of logs and with a shingle roof. It had a porch extending across the front of the house and square windows on either side of the door. Laurel laid down the travois poles and straightened up, massaging her shoulders where the makeshift harness had bitten into them. She looked at the semi conscious form on the ground.
'Dave, can you help me get you into the house?' She asked gently.
Starsky tried to focus his eyes on her, but her voice seemed to be coming from a million miles away. He knew though, that strong as this girl was, she'd never be able to get him into the cabin without help.
'Jus' help me up' he mumbled and held out his hand for her.
Laurel bent and put her hand under the curly head and gently helped Starsky into a sitting position, then up to his feet. His vision swam and he felt sick to his stomach, the infernal branch in his side not helping matters at all. Swallowing down the bile, he leaned heavily on Laurel's shoulder and slowly they made their way into the cabin. Laurel led Starsky over to a bed in the corner of the single room and with a groan, the brunette collapsed onto it, panting and gasping.
The girl immediately began busying herself. She stoked up the fire that had been burning in the hearth all day and hung above it a kettle of water to boil. Next she went to her cupboard and took out a clean white sheet which she proceeded to tear into 4" strips and neatly fold. She put those to one side and looked through her medicine cupboard, cataloguing Starsky's injuries and what she would need for them.
One by one, she reached up and pulled out herbs, some dried, some wrapped in cloth, some powdered in small stone jars. Datura leaves she would need to give the man some much needed rest. She used the leaves in a tea to aid sleep and to alleviate pain. Yarrow she would use in another tea against the fevers he would inevitably suffer. Externally she would boil the leaves and make an infusion for treating Starsky's wounds and stopping the flow of blood.
She took down also the big furry leaves of Comfrey, knowing she could make a poultice of those when she set and splinted the broken ankle and maybe on his rib. The herb's other name was Knitbone and it did just that, aiding the mending of bone and taking away inflammation and swelling. And there was always the Blue Lobellia if the pain became too bad, although she would use that sparingly as it was a strong medicine and the man was weak.
As the kettle above the fire started to boil, she set about making the teas and infusions before walking back over to the brunette on the bed. He was hot now and his face, which had been pale was now flushed with the beginnings of fever. Deftly, she removed his tee shirt and cut the trousers away. She removed the shoe and sock from his left foot. The broken right ankle she'd leave for the moment. Once he was undressed Laurel could see the massive extent of his injuries and she looked critically at the multiple bruises, cuts and scrapes showing over the brunettes otherwise tanned torso. Going back to her medicine cabinet she also extracted a clean sharp sewing needle and from another carefully wrapped package, some lengths of sinew she had saved from a deer she had killed for food the previous summer. Once wetted, the fine sinew would become supple and strong and she could use it to close some of the deeper cuts. She also carefully washed and cleaned a thin metal poker and placed it into the white hot embers of the fire.
Starsky tried to take notice as much as he could, but he was feeling sicker by the moment. The pains in his side, ankle and head were threatening to consume him. He felt weak and hot and was not looking forward to what he knew must follow. Laurel came back to him and sat by his side on the bed, smoothing his hair and wiping the damp forehead, pushing back some errant curls.
'How are you feeling?' she asked, searching his face for her reply.
Talking was the last thing the brunette really wanted to do at that moment – even that small movement hurt too much, but the effects of the Lobellia were beginning to wear off and he knew if she didn't start soon, it would be far worse for him. So he breathed deeply, trying to clear his head and assessed his body.
'Side 'urts worse, ankles numb, can't breath too well. Ya sure ya can fix me?'
Laurel smiled. 'I have the necessary herbs and I've had some practice with wounds like this, but not so many all on one body! I'm going to give you some teas now which will make you drowsy and take away some of the pain. I'll try hard not to hurt you too much, but this' she pointed to the branch still sticking sickeningly out of his side 'will need to come out first'.
He nodded and swallowed hard, stowing his fear down deep inside him as he watched her go back to the fire and prepare the herbal infusions and teas. Finally ready, she lifted his head gently and held the cup as he swallowed down as much of the god awful brew as he could manage. It was hot and bitter and made him feel even more nauseous, but he knew he'd be worse off without it, so tried to keep the concoction down.
'The first thing I need to do is to remove this' she said. 'When I tell you, I want you to breathe as deeply as you can and try to remain still. I will warn you when I'm going to pull it out, but once I start, it should be done in one movement. Are you ready?'
Oh sure, ready to have my insides ripped out! Oh God this is gonna hurt so much. Out loud, he managed a shaky 'Just do it'.
Starsky looked grimly at the assemblage of materials Laurel had brought to the side of the bed, suddenly realising what the hot poker was for. Oh my God, shit he thought, then closed his eyes and waited for it, mentally bracing himself for what he knew was to come. He felt the bed move as she stood and placed her hands, one on the branch, one on the flat of his stomach. She paused for an eternity, as the brunette held his breath, then with one hellish tug, she ripped the branch from his flesh. There was a sickening squelching sound as the branch popped free. He yelped once, hating himself for making the noise but being unable to bite it back and sweat beaded on his forehead. He grasped the bedclothes beneath him in his fists, his knuckles turning white with the pressure as he fought the agonizing pain in his side.
Realising that the worst was still to come he gasped back another groan as he opened his eyes, and then shut them again, tight. Laurel had picked up the poker, and with one movement, brought the red hot metal down to the gaping wound left by the branch, cauterizing it cleanly. Starsky smelled a sickening barbeque smell, and realized it was his flesh, just before he screamed one last time and passed out again.
Laurel was glad for the brunette that he was now unconscious, knowing that the rest of her ministrations would be just as painful. At least this way, he would be oblivious to the pain. She looked carefully at the wound, pleased with the results. It would scar, but the bleeding had stopped and the wound looked clean. Fortunately the branch had been new and green and so there was no loose bark or detritus to further dirty the wound. She made a poultice of the yarrow and using one of the strips of sheet, bound it around Starsky's middle.
Turning next to the ankle, she removed the shoe and sock and carefully manipulated the bones back into the right sort of shape. There was no break in the skin there although the joint was swollen to almost twice its size. She took the Comfrey leaves that she'd had steeping in water and made another poultice which she bound around the foot enough that the brunette would not be unable to move it. Satisfied that the break should heal well, she next went to the other wounds, starting with the large cut on Starsky's head. Using an infusion of woundwort, she gently cleaned the wound. The antiseptic properties the herb had would fight any infection there and on the myriad of other cuts across the muscular body. There was one cut, across the bruise on the ribs which required stitching and using the needle and sinew, she inserted six stitches to hold it closed along it's length.
After an hour or more, she had cleaned, stitched and dressed all the wounds she could find and she sat back a moment to assess her work. Starsky was fighting the effects of the Datura and Laurel could feel the heat beginning to radiate from his wounds. His skin was dry and hot and she knew that before too long he would be in the grips of a fever. Crossing back to the fire, she made a final tea. This one was of Joe Pye Weed and she needed its properties to induce the brunette to sweat and break his high temperature. This too was a powerful drug and she used it sparingly.
As she held the cup to Starsky's lips his indigo blue eyes flashed open for an instant. There was no recognition in them and as she laid his head gently back down she could hear him muttering in his delirium.
'Utch?...no!...get down…..oh God, Hutch?'
She wondered what or who Hutch was and sat by the brunette as he tossed and turned on the pillow. His hand was waving weakly as if he needed to hold onto something and she took hold of it in hers.
Starsky grasped it like his life depended on it and Laurel was surprised at the strength of that grip. It seemed to quiet him and as the Joe Pye Weed began to take effect he muttered again
'Hutch………sleep ….buddy?'
Laurel stayed beside his bed all night watching the man as he fought his battle with pain. At about 4:00am the fever broke and she gently sponged Starsky's body with cool water as the bed clothes became soaked in his sweat. His dark curls lay flat and damp against his head now, but the flush had gone from his face and the drug had worked its magic as by morning, he was sleeping more peacefully.
Laurel got up stiffly from her vigil and went outside into the crisp morning air. She felt drained but relieved that this man would make it. She was sure of that now and she idly wondered if over the coming days she would get to know him and find out abut this 'Hutch'. There was still a long road to recovery, but she had herbs to help with that too. As the sun started to lighten the horizon she went back indoors and started preparations for her morning meal.
As she entered she realised Starsky was wakened and crossed to the bed to check on him.
'How are you feeling?' she asked as she checked the various bandages and wounds.
Starsky licked his dry lips. 'Sore' he answered truthfully. 'Tired. Am I gonna make it?' his voice husky and raw.
'I've set your ankle and dressed your wounds. Some needed me to stitch them, but the wound in your side is clean. Yes, I think you will make it' she said.
The brunette's eyes were already closing again as the tiredness overtook him. 'Need to …..tell 'Utch…Thank you' he whispered as he fell back asleep.
