She heard Nick before she saw him, shouting orders at Jarrod to open the door. When he came in, he was carrying Heath in his arms, the boy's head resting against his shoulder. No talk of taking him to the bunkhouse this time, she noticed, in the front door and up the stairs with barely a look for her.
She followed him up the stairs, Jarrod and Howard at her side, Jarrod's hand under her elbow. She forgot what a strong man Nick was, that strength of body that went with the voice and the big personality. He never hesitated at the top of the stairs but turned into the guest room and gently lay Heath down on the bed.
She'd left an old clean blanket on top of the bed knowing there'd be blood and dirt before they'd need the clean bed. The boy lay still and drawn against the dark green of the old blanket, looking closer to death than life.
Howard took charge, asking her to leave. She started to argue and then met his eyes. She knew Heath wouldn't want her here for whatever reason while Howard got his clothes off and prepared him for the surgery that would follow. "I'll help Silas," she said, nodding her understanding.
"Nick, can you stay?" Merar asked as she left the room.
"Jarrod, get us some more pillows," Nick called to his brother's retreating back.
She stood in the hall waiting for Jarrod.
"What happened?"
"They were ambushed up near Horse Lake. Apparently Heath saved another Barkley life."
"How badly is he hurt?"
"Not good, Mother. He's been coughing up blood. I just can't believe… after everything…" Jarrod stopped and returned her look.
"I know," she said and touched him on the arm. "I know and I can't either. We'll just have to get him well again." She left Jarrod there and went down the stairs to help Silas with the water and instruments. There was a reason for the boy's coming and it wasn't so he could die in that upstairs guest room. He was there so Tom Barkley's family could all be together, all of them together where she could watch over and care for them.
He kept Heath's shoulders and head elevated against his chest as Dr. Merar removed first Heath's boots and then his pants. Then the two of them carefully maneuvered the semi-conscious boy as they removed his shirt. He grabbed the two pillows from Jarrod, and set them on the bed, and carefully lowered the boy's upper body down on top of them.
"He can't seem to breathe lying out flat," he explained to Merar.
"What happened?" the doctor asked, pulling his stethoscope out of his bag and holding it in his hands while he listened to Nick.
"He was shot," Nick said, nodding toward the now slowly seeping wound on his upper shoulder. "It bled out some at the beginning but I got the bleeding stopped pretty quickly. Barrett beat the daylights out of him, though, and with those ribs…" He hesitated; he didn't like to say the last part in case not saying it would make it not be true. "He was coughing. He gets coughing and can't stop. Was coughing up blood. Not a lot," he temporized, sure a little was much better than a lot.
Merar nodded and, put the stethoscope to Heath's chest, listened.
"How's it sound? Is he going to be okay?" he asked.
"Nick. Please. Let me listen."
Jarrod put his hand on Nick's shoulder. Then hearing his mother's voice in the hall, Nick hastily drew a second blanket up to Heath's waist and gave Jarrod a tight smile.
"Thanks," came softly from the bed. Heath's hand closed convulsively around the blanket as he looked up at his brother with half closed eyes.
"Heath, I need you to cough for me. I know it hurts," Merar said, putting his hand on his uninjured shoulder. Heath looked at him through half open eyes. "Nick will hold you up, make it easier but I need to hear your lungs. I'm sorry, son."
Nick stepped over to the bed, carefully sat down at the head and as gently as possible, lifted Heath up from the pillow to hold him. "He has a hard time stopping once he starts," he said, hoping to forestall the coughing, hoping to not have to see that blood and that pain.
Merar looked at him silently for a moment then redirected his gaze to Heath. "Give me a cough, son."
The cough was endless, wrenching. He looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway, her hand covering her mouth as Heath seemed to cough out his life, pulling his knees up to ease his ribs, rolling against Nick to try and escape the pain.
Finally, seeming to just run out of strength, the coughs ended and Nick gently lay him back on the pillows, but not before looking to see what his hands had felt on Heath's back. As his eye caught the whiteness of the scars under his hand, he hesitated for a moment, then, looking into his brother's eyes, he lowered him to the bed and gently pushed Heath's hair back off his forehead and smiled at him. "Your okay now, boy." Heath looked away without comment and closed his eyes tiredly.
Dr. Merar sat up straight and removed the stethoscope from his ears. "Heath, can you understand me, son?" he asked softly, not sure if the young cowboy was conscious or not.
Heath nodded, opened his eyes tiredly and gave a small half smile. "Ran out on my bill… sorry," he said softly.
"Not tonight's problem. You've had a lot of trauma to your chest from a fall or something?" Merar asked.
"Barrett… fell on me."
"Yeah that might do it, especially coupled with the beating Nick saw him giving you." Merar paused, thinking. There had been very little blood that time when the boy coughed which was a good sign. He could hear the typical crunching sounds of the lung trauma but the boy seemed to be getting enough air.
Merar poured some of the laudanum into a spoon and offered it to the young man, who took it and the glass of water afterward without comment. "We need to give that a couple of minutes to take effect. You've obviously suffered considerable trauma, you know, damage, to your chest. There isn't anything I can do about that. You need to lie still, breathe as normally as you're able and let it heal. It's going to take perhaps two weeks, but if you can lie still and wait it out, you will be all right." He didn't add the part about not getting pneumonia. He thought perhaps the boy had been through enough without going into that just now.
"Let me look at your shoulder now." He took his scissors, cut away Nick's quick dressing and examined the wound. "Can you move your arm for me, just a little? I want to see if the bone is broken."
Heath looked at him for a moment, then closed his eyes and lifted his arm away from his chest a few inches. Sweat immediately beaded up on his forehead. Merar held his hand gently on the shoulder to feel the movement of the joint.
"Okay, that's fine. That's enough." Merar found he was feeling more like a medieval torturer this evening than a doctor. "I don't think the bone is broken." He washed the blood away from the wound as gently as he could. He could feel the young man shaking under his ministrations, but could offer him no comfort beyond the laudanum. He felt the bed move and saw Nick sit down on the other side of the boy and take Heath's hand in his. The younger man opened his eyes and looked up at Nick, but made no comment. Merar thought maybe he did see Heath's lips quirk up in one corner but he wasn't sure.
"This looks a lot worse than it is. If you can hold on here for a minute, I can get this cleaned out and closed up." Merar looked over at Nick.
"Just put a little pressure on that other shoulder for me, Nick. Be careful, no pressure on his chest and put your other hand here, on his upper arm."
"Now Heath, this is going to hurt but not even for a minute, I promise."
Heath nodded, his eyes focused on Nick's face. Merar picked up his forceps with one hand and pushed down on the damaged tissue on either side of the wound with his other. While the boy squirmed at the sudden pain, he cleaned the wound as quickly as he could. Grabbing the cloth he had ready on the table, he immediately staunched the fresh blood and kept pressure on the wound, waiting to see if the bleeding would stop or if he would need to cauterize it. He could hear the boy panting and thought it couldn't possibly be good for his lungs.
Victoria met him in the parlor half an hour later.
"How is he, Howard?"
He thought she seemed very distressed over the health of the young cowhand, but he had always thought that the Barkleys took very good care of their people. He also suspected there was more to this young boy than met the eye. While Victoria or Audra might show this much concern for an injured cowboy, he had been very surprised to see Nick Barkley up there holding the boy's hand like some long lost brother.
"He's not great, Victoria. He's had a massive trauma to his chest. If you can keep him quiet and in bed for ten days to two weeks, and if he heals as he should, he'll be okay. The big danger is pneumonia." Merar looked at her searchingly. "Would you like me to send Mimi Robbins out from town to do the nursing?" he asked, unsure just what was going on here with this boy and this family.
"No, thank you, Howard. We'll take care of it." Victoria smiled at him. "He's Tom's son, Howard."
"My God. Tom Barkley's son?"
"Yes." Victoria smiled that enigmatic smile at him again and he glanced up at the portrait over the fireplace. My God.