The book that Hosea reads from is the Sherlock Holmes novel A Study in Scarlet, which was first published in 1887 and therefore I can pretend it's historically accurate for Hosea to have it.
So yeah... this is an interesting chapter... in case you are wondering where this idea came from, blame Emmithar on AO3, who wrote a particularly tragic story called Balancing the Scales which I couldn't get over.
Chapter 11: The Choice
The ride back to Fort Collins was nerve-wracking. Hosea kept turning his head behind him to check for O'Driscolls, then back to Arthur, wrapped up tight in Dutch's arms. He hadn't seen Arthur move since they loaded him onto Dutch's horse, hadn't heard so much as a whimper or a groan, and he kept having to ask Dutch if Arthur was even still alive.
But they finally reached town, Hosea hopping off Silver Dollar first to help Arthur down. Their boy fell into their arms, though Dutch was quick to take all of Arthur's weight so that Hosea could run and yell for the doctor. Which he did, loud and desperate.
The doctor guided them to an exam table, immediately leaning over Arthur's left leg. "Is the leg the only injury?" he asked.
"We're not sure," Hosea said. "His hand is bleeding, and his ribs might be broken. Outlaws grabbed him, did all this."
"But the leg is the most life threatening," the doctor finished for him. "Was this from a shotgun?"
"I think so," Hosea replied. Considering how the leg was torn apart, what else could it be? He wasn't about to forget the sight anytime soon, after they finally pried the lid off the coffin. Hosea's heart stopped at the sight of Arthur's pale, tear-stained face in stark contrast with the bloody mass of broken flesh and bone, the only thing having kept him from bleeding out being an O'Driscoll's green neckerchief. "We didn't see it happen."
He turned to confirm his assumption with Dutch, but the man was red-faced and panting. "You okay?" Hosea asked.
Dutch waved him off, making a weak joke. "When did that tiny boy get to be so heavy?"
"Haven't had to carry him in a while, have we?" Hosea said, then gave the doctor his full attention once again.
The doctor frowned as he inspected the wound. "How long ago did this happen?"
"I don't know," Hosea said. "We found him… an hour ago, maybe?"
The doctor picked up a pair of forceps, pulling apart the skin and checking the damage. He picked out the first of many buckshots pellets, confirming the shotgun theory, but his frown increased with each hole he checked. Soon, he sat back, putting down his tools with a sigh.
"What is it?" Hosea asked.
"This won't be easy, so I will just say it. The damage is extensive. Besides the external injuries and torn blood vessels, the two main bones in his lower leg are broken in multiple places. Given the likelihood of recovery and risk of infection, I recommend the leg be amputated."
"What?" Dutch said, standing up from his chair, a hand hovering protectively over Arthur.
"I will make the cut just above where it's currently tied, so he can keep the knee," the doctor continued, unconcerned with Hosea and Dutch's appalled expressions.
"No," Dutch said, shaking his head. "You can't! You have to fix him!"
"Isn't there anything else you can do?" Hosea asked.
"Not with a good prognosis, no. Most folk have good mobility with prosthetic legs, if you are able to pay. I know a man in Denver who does excellent work."
Of course they would pay. If Hosea could get any words out, he would have told the doctor as much. He looked at Arthur, so still and unresponsive. He knew what he needed to say, as the doctor pressed him for an answer. He just wished he could ask Arthur, first.
Dutch turned on the doctor. "No, you can't! You won't."
"Dutch-"
"You're not touching him!" Dutch shouted, stepping between the doctor and Arthur. "Help me get him up, Hosea. We're going to find a real doctor, not this hack!"
"Leave here with him, and he will die," the doctor said bluntly.
"Are you threatening my boy?" Dutch asked, shrugging off Hosea's attempts to pull him aside and placing a hand on his revolver.
The doctor remained undaunted by Dutch's anger. "I'm stating a fact. The risk of infection is high, and the longer you wait, if you move him, the more likely it will develop and spread to the rest of his body. And if- if by some miracle he survives that, the bones won't heal correctly. The lower portion of both his tibia and fibula are shattered. Entire fragments are out of place or missing. It's a miracle that shotgun didn't blow the leg off entirely. I doubt he would ever walk again, and he'd be in pain for the rest of his life."
"You're wrong," Dutch said.
"No, I'm not." The doctor was not going to back down. And neither would Dutch if Hosea didn't do anything.
"Dutch," Hosea said, placing a hand gently on Dutch's chest. "I don't like it, either, but let's talk about it."
"What's there to talk about? We're not doing it!"
"So we're just going to let Arthur die?"
"He's not going to die! I… he…" Dutch stammered. "He wouldn't want this."
"We don't know that," Hosea said, sliding between Dutch and the doctor.
"He'll hate us," Dutch said, watery eyes meeting Hosea's.
"He won't," Hosea stated firmly. Though he honestly didn't know what Arthur would think when he woke up. "Maybe at first, but not forever. We're going to help him through it. Every step of the way."
"Of course," Dutch nodded. "Of course we will."
Hosea waited a few seconds to see if Dutch would protest more, but instead Dutch looked resigned. Taking a deep breath, Hosea said, "Do it."
The doctor began preparing his tools and cleaning his hands. Dutch went to Arthur's side, picking up his hand and whispering reassurances and apologies in his ear. Hosea took his position at Arthur's shoulder. The doctor raised an eyebrow at them and cautiously said, "You might want to leave. This won't be pleasant."
"We're staying," Dutch said. Hosea agreed.
The doctor considered his shelf of medicines and pain killers for a moment before selecting a bottle. "I don't want to give him anything too strong, considering how much blood he's already lost. Hopefully this will keep him down, but be ready to brace him, just in case." His assistant soon joined him, took one look at the saw, then slid a bucket next to Hosea and Dutch.
"In case you need to… you know," the young man said.
Hosea stomach turned at the first draw of the saw over Arthur's shin, barely managing not to throw up. He couldn't keep himself from glancing at Arthur's leg, and instantly regretted it. The doctor worked quickly, but it seemed as if an eternity passed before he dropped the limb in a bucket with a heavy thud.
He was glad that Arthur stayed unconscious for the entire procedure. He stroked Arthur's hair as the doctor bandaged him up, whispering soft encouragement into his ear. Dutch was hunched over, his face green, trying very hard to breathe through his nausea while still clutching Arthur's hand.
"You okay?" Hosea asked.
"I'm fine."
"That should do for now. We'll monitor him tonight, make sure there are no complications. Now, you said there were injures to his hand and ribs?" the doctor said.
"Yes," Hosea said, picking up Arthur's right hand so the doctor could see his palm. "I never got your name, sir."
"Doctor Jones."
"Hosea."
Doctor Jones paused over the rope burns on Arthur's wrist. "The sheriff's office is right down the street, if you want to report those outlaws."
"We'd prefer… not to involve the law," Hosea said carefully.
"Ah. I won't say anything. Doctor-patient confidentiality."
"Thank you."
Looking back at Arthur's slack face, Hosea didn't want to leave him. But someone needed to go back to the gang and tell them what happened, and Dutch seemed to be in no condition to ride. Not that Hosea was doing much better, but at least he was talking. Dutch barely acknowledged the stiff drink the assistant shoved into his hands.
"I'm going to check on everyone, and let them know that we found Arthur. You okay staying here until the morning?"
"Of course," Dutch said, still a little shaky. "I'm not going to get any sleep tonight, regardless."
"Neither am I."
It was a long ride back. There was little light along the trail, and Hosea was aware of every gust of wind and snapped twig. He jumped at Miss Grimshaw's challenge as he approached camp, barely managing to answer it.
Miss Grimshaw looked past him expectantly, stiffening as she realized he was alone. Hosea quickly said, "They're at the doctor's. Arthur's alive, but he's hurt bad, Susan."
"Mr. Van der Linde is with him?"
"Of course."
"You go tell the others. They're all waiting around the fire. I'll keep us safe tonight."
Every head turned to Hosea when he entered the camp. He could read the fear and uncertainty on each face. "We got Arthur," he immediately said again. "He's alive, but he needed a doctor."
Annabelle burst into tears, falling into Bessie. "Will he be okay?" she asked.
"I think so," Hosea said. "Dutch is staying with him tonight."
Isaac hopped off Bessie's lap and walked up to Hosea. "Is Pa coming back?" he asked.
Hosea crouched down and placed a hand on Isaac's shoulder. "We'll know more tomorrow. I'm hoping we can bring him home, but it depends on what the doctor says."
Isaac nodded, his lip trembling. He threw his arms around Hosea's neck.
Hosea returned the hug, letting the young boy cry out all his emotions on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Isaac. Your pa is safe now. Dutch and the doctor will take good care of him."
After Isaac began to quiet, Hosea handed him to Annabelle. "Can you take him tonight?"
"Yeah, I've got him," she said, and carried him back to her tent.
Bessie took Hosea's hand and led him towards their own tent. Before they reached it, John asked, "Did you kill those O'Driscolls?"
"No. They, uh, left Arthur for us to find."
"Oh."
"It'll be okay, John. Once Arthur is back with us, we'll move camp, get ourselves safe. We might have to ask you to go on guard duty a little more often until we do."
"I can do that," John said.
"That's my boy!" Hosea said, smiling and patting John on the shoulder.
But as soon as he entered his tent, he collapsed into Bessie. "Talk to me," she said, rubbing his back through his sobs. "What happened?"
And Hosea told her everything, sparing no detail from the realization that Arthur had been taken, to digging up his coffin, to the decision they had to make.
"Arthur's strong," said Bessie. "He'll be okay."
He hoped she was right.
"Sleep," she said. "Things will be better in the morning."
Hosea didn't think it was possible with the tightness in his chest, but he soon fell asleep in her arms.
Three days.
It took three days for things to get better.
He returned to the doctor's office early to an argument between Dutch and Doctor Jones. Arthur developed a fever overnight, and a series of cold compresses and medicine hadn't stalled its attempts to drag Arthur from the world. His son gasped and sweated, but barely moved a muscle. Dutch blamed the doctor for his recommendation to amputate, and Hosea kicked him out with an order to rest at camp and come back at night.
He knew enough medical information to understand that fever was often a reaction to trauma and not necessarily a deadly infection. And Arthur had gone through plenty of trauma. Still, it was unnerving to sit beside Arthur so weak and sick.
When the sun started to set, Dutch showed up to relieve him. It was harder to leave that time. His joints were stiff from sitting in the same chair all day, but each step away from Arthur hurt more, and the desire to turn Silver Dollar around almost overwhelmed him.
Isaac ran up to him as soon as he returned. John did, as well. "Your pa needs to stay with the doctor a little longer," he said to Isaac. John got a better explanation, since Bessie and then Dutch told the camp about Arthur's leg.
The next day wasn't better. Doctor Jones looked at Hosea with pity as he checked on Arthur. Every moment, Hosea worried Arthur would slip away right in front of his eyes.
"Come back, Arthur," he pleaded with his son. "I know you can survive this. Please don't give up."
Arthur's fever raged on. Hosea kept wiping down his forehead and neck with a damp rag, though it did little to alleviate the heat coming off his skin.
That night, he truly wondering if Arthur would still be alive when he returned. Thankfully, Arthur not only survived the night but also showed improvement. His breathing eased from a shallow wheeze to something calmer and smoother. But Dutch wasn't alone. John was curled up on a chair, awake but leaning onto Dutch's jacket as a pillow.
Hosea hadn't even noticed that John and Moose were missing from camp. He must have been more tired than he thought.
"Sorry!" John said, jumping up. "I didn't mean to leave camp, it's just… I saw Isaac trying to sneak out to see Arthur and I promised him I'd go instead!"
"It's okay," Hosea said. "I'm not mad, but it's not safe to go anywhere alone right now. We don't know if the O'Driscolls are planning anything else."
"I know," John said.
"Go easy on him, Hosea. I told him the exact same thing," Dutch said. Bags had formed under Dutch's eyes, and his hand shook slightly. "Arthur's fever is lower and his breathing sounds better, so at least there's something good to tell Isaac."
"I should have spent a little more time with Isaac," said Hosea. Annabelle and Bessie took care of him the majority of the time, but they could only answer his questions to a point. They hadn't actually seen Arthur, either, and they were just as worried.
"It's not your fault. I don't want to give him bad news or no news, either."
"See you tonight?"
"Yeah. Come on, John. Let's get back to camp. I think we could both use some rest."
Hosea took up the vacated chair and Arthur's hand. "How are you, Arthur? Feeling better?"
Arthur kept sleeping.
The assistant, Phil, stopped by to keep Hosea company when he arrived for the day. After chatting for a while and discovering they both shared a love of crime stories, Phil gave Hosea a magazine from England featuring a new detective series. Memories of when Arthur first joined them filled Hosea as he read the words aloud. Their son was never keen to share the subject of the nightmares that stole hours away from his sleep, but he never denied the companionship they freely gave. Hosea and Dutch often read him books to get him back to sleep, and Arthur confessed to Hosea one day that he always preferred Hosea's books to Dutch's.
He hoped the words were bringing Arthur comfort now.
"Alright, Arthur, we're onto chapter three now. The Lauriston Garden Mystery! 'I confess that I was considerably startled by this fresh proof of the practical nature of my companion's theories. My respect for his powers of analysis increased wondrously. There still remained some lurking suspicious in my mind, however, that the whole thing was a pre-arranged, intended to dazzle me, though what earthly object he could have in taking me in was past my comprehension.' Now, there's a con idea, Arthur! But I think this Sherlock Holmes might be genuine." Hosea took a second to rub his eyes and take a sip of water. If he read all day, he was going to lose his voice. He glanced up at Arthur, fully expecting his boy to still be sleeping.
But Arthur's eyes were open and on him.
"Arthur?" Hosea said, sliding from his chair to the bed. He squeezed Arthur's hand, and tears began building in his eyes when Arthur gave a gentle squeeze back.
"'sea," Arthur croaked. Hosea grabbed a cup of water, and supported Arthur's head when he was unable to lift it himself.
"You're going to be just fine, you hear me? Just fine."
Arthur coughed, then with a small smile on his face, asked, "What did I do this time?"
Hosea couldn't answer, letting the tears fall as he cupped Arthur face in his hands. Arthur's eyes narrowed in confusion, his brow creased. In the next second, he tensed up, his eyes going wide and his breathing suddenly harsh as fear overtook him.
Hosea was quick to reassure him, saying, "You're safe now, okay? You're safe. We got you out. It's over."
Arthur tried pushing himself up. He raised himself an inch before he shuddered and collapsed.
"We got you out, Dutch and I, and we're going to keep you safe. I promise."
Arthur's eyes darted around the room. "Where…" he managed to get out.
"You're at the doctor's office, okay? Just breathe."
Arthur did, rapid and shaky. He met Hosea's eyes and whispered, "You found me?"
Hosea was almost overcome with sobs. "Yeah, we found you. Just in time, too. Annabelle got back and let us know about the attack, and we came looking as fast as we could."
"Anna… she had Isaac."
"Anna and Isaac are just fine. They're at camp. It's been a few days. Dutch and I have been taking turns sitting with you."
"I remember… I think… Dutch was there," Arthur said.
"That he was. He's going to be very happy to see you."
Arthur was starting to blink heavily. "My leg feels funny."
"I know," Hosea said. "Are you in pain?"
"No, it's just funny."
"Alright, but please let me know if it starts hurting. We're going to take care of you. Just rest." He stayed sitting on the bed as Arthur finally relaxed, placing a hand on his forehead. Arthur's fever was nearly gone. They were almost out of the woods, though he'd confirm with the doctor once Arthur was settled.
"Hosea?"
"Yeah, son?"
"Keep reading?"
He would never deny that request. When Arthur's barely open eyes found his, tired and clouded from days of fever and fatigue but begging for the sound of Hosea's voice, he almost broke down. Instead, he picked up the magazine and said, "Of course. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. 'When I looked at him he had finished reading the note, and his eyes had assumed the vacant, lack-lustre expression which showed mental abstraction.'"
Arthur shuffled closer to Hosea, and soon Hosea was laying on the bed next to him, an arm around his shoulders. Hours later, Hosea's voice was hoarse, but Arthur was calm. He stirred a few times, but mostly he slept. Doctor Jones came in to change Arthur's bandages and assured Hosea that everything was improving.
"Here is the address of my colleague who makes prosthetic legs," Doctor Jones said.
"Thank you."
"He won't be able to fit him for it until the area is healed. It will be a month, at least, but I can give you a pair of crutches in the meantime, once he starts getting his strength back."
Hosea ran his fingers through Arthur's hair. "I don't know how he's going to handle this."
"It will take time. But you two are incredibly supportive, I'm sure you will see him through."
"We will."
"I want him to stay here tonight, just to be safe. You should be able to take him home tomorrow."
The door opened, and Dutch's heavy footsteps dragged down the hall. Doctor Jones slipped out of the room to give Dutch and Hosea some privacy as Dutch entered and stumbled to the bed while saying, "How's Arthur?"
"He woke up!" Hosea said, his smile spreading wide.
That got Dutch's attention, his jaw-dropping as he crossed the last few steps. Hosea slid off the bed to give Dutch the space, and Dutch took Arthur's hand, just staring at his son.
"Is he alright?"
"I think so. He remembered some of what happened, but I was able to calm him down."
Dutch wasn't trying to wake Arthur up, but he stirred anyway. "Oh, son. Arthur, my boy, you're okay!" Dutch cried, lifting Arthur close to him. Arthur actually raised his arms to hug Dutch back, burying his head in Dutch's neck.
"Dutch?" he muttered.
"I'm here. You feeling okay?"
Arthur frowned. "What's wrong with my leg?"
Dutch lowered him back down, a hand lingering on his shoulder. Hosea and Dutch exchanged a look.
"What is it?" Arthur asked.
"Son, I'm-I'm sorry," Dutch stuttered. "You were hurt bad, and we, well we-" Hosea went to jump in, but Dutch pulled back the blankets off Arthur's left leg. Arthur's breath hitched, and he crushed Hosea's hand as he took in the amputated limb, bandages wrapped from his knee to partway down his calf.
"Breathe, son. It's going to be okay," Hosea said.
"What- how- how will I-"
"Shh, you're alright." Hosea shifted behind Arthur, encouraging him to lean back.
"But how will I- if I can't- I don't-"
"We'll help you," Dutch said, getting on Arthur's other side. "Anything you need, we'll help you. You're not alone."
"But why?"
"It was seriously damaged and never would have healed right," Hosea said, rubbing Arthur's back. "There is a good chance of you walking with a wooden leg, a much better chance than if you'd kept the leg, actually."
"I know this is difficult, and I'm sorry," Dutch continued. "We'll get you through this, I promise."
Hosea and Dutch stayed with Arthur until his panic subsided, likely due to lingering exhaustion than actual calmness. "I think we could all use a little rest," Hosea said. "Dutch will stay with you tonight, and I'll be back tomorrow with a wagon to bring you home, okay?"
"Okay."
Arthur closed his eyes as soon as he settled back onto the pillow. Hosea smoothed out the blankets and tucked them around Arthur. "You couldn't have handled that better?" Hosea huffed. Dutch had the decency to appear mildly ashamed.
Hosea relayed a lot of what the doctor told him about recovery and options. At the end, Dutch gave a dry chuckle. "I guess we're not making it over the mountains before winter."
"Probably not. New Austin it is, after Denver."
"And Arthur?"
"We'll ask him what he wants to do. Once he's had a little more time."
"Do you think… I know the doctor said he'll be able to walk, but…"
"If anyone can do it, it's Arthur." Hosea got up and stretched. "I'll be back first thing tomorrow with a wagon. Have a good night, Dutch."
"Good night, Hosea."
They had a rough few days, weeks, probably months ahead of them. But Hosea was determined to see Arthur through it.