Chapter Ten
"Go ahead, Sam," Scott, who was still more conscious than not, told the doctor. "Do whatever you have to without the Chloroform."
Foggy his mind may be, but Scott remembered soldiers during the war, who had suffered mental problems after being given the anesthetic following a head wound. A few even died. "I'd rather endure the pain."
Sam understood, but felt compelled to tell the young man the extent of what he was about to go through.
"The pain will be intense, Scott. Worse than you might imagine."
"Just do it, Sam," Scott insisted. "Been through it before, during the war." His words were starting to get slower.
Sam knew time was running out. He had to start now or whether or not he used an anesthetic or not might turn out to be a moot point.
Johnny leaned over and whispered to Sam, "Maybe he'll pass out before the worst of it."
The elderly doctor sighed again. No matter what he thought, he knew that Scott was aware enough to make his own decision, a decision that Sam couldn't really argue against. He also knew that as bad as the pain would be, it was far better than what the concussion/Chloroform combination could do to the young blond. And, there was no guarantee that any possible adverse effects wouldn't be permanent.
Sam was trying to figure out exactly how Johnny was going to hold Scott down. The best way was to get a good grip on both of his shoulders, but that wouldn't let Sam have the free access to the wounds that was essential. It was going to be an awkward task for the youngest Lancer, considering how essential it was that Scott remain very still. An unexpected movement that caused a slip could result in more damage, especially if his worst fears were realized, and he ended up having to work on the artery.
Then, there was another problem that presented itself. "We'll have to tie his legs to the table."
Johnny didn't like the idea of tying Scott up, even if it was for his own good. He, himself, had been bound more times than he could possibly remember, and it was always an unpleasant experience, rendering him helpless, not only physically but mentally, as well. He knew Scott had been tied up before, too, often bringing back memories of the wartime prison he had spent a year in and seven years trying to forget. At the moment, though, there was no other choice. Now, Johnny wished that he hadn't sent Matt away.
Sam quickly retrieved a rope from a nearby cabinet, and he and Johnny made quick work of securing Scott's legs.
Johnny leaned over and lifted Scott into his arms, wrapping one arm around his brother's slim waist and the other holding his head with his good shoulder securely against his chest.
"We have no more time to waste," Sam advised, as he picked up his scalpel.
Johnny bent his head down toward Scott's left ear. "Don't worry, Boston. I got ya, and I won't let go." He smiled when he felt Scott's head nod slightly. He knew his brother had placed his faith in his words of reassurance.
Sam spent as little time as possible cleaning out the front wound. It was hard to see through all the blood. As soon as he mopped it up with a cloth, more rapidly took its place. The doctor knew then that the artery in Scott's neck had indeed been compromised.
"I'm going to have to cut down between the two wounds and then cauterize this. Sewing it up won't do the job."
Johnny stared at Sam. He had once had a wound of his own catheterized, and he couldn't remember any pain he had ever suffered in his life to be more agonizing than that particular burn.
He looked down to get Scott's reaction to Sam's words. The only thing he saw that told him his brother had heard was that now Scott's eyes were squeezed more tightly shut.
The blond had sustained burns in his life, too, but he had never had one done surgically. He had the same wish that Johnny had had earlier; he wanted to pass out before it got too bad, but he didn't think that was going to happen.
Scott's attention was drawn to what Sam was now saying. "I feared that might be the case, so I put a knife in the fire when I rounded up my supplies. It should be hot enough by now."
Sam made sure Johnny once again had pressure on the wounds and then left the room to retrieve the instrument of the pain he was about to unavoidably inflict.
"Sorry, brother," Johnny said to Scott.
"Better me endure a little pain than you getting yourself killed, Johnny."
Johnny snorted at the reference to 'a little pain'. They both knew the lie of that statement. Johnny believed that he wouldn't have ended up dead, but now was not the time to argue with an overprotective big brother. He had been trying to do the same thing with Scott, only he had failed in his attempt to keep his brother safe.
Reading the guilt on Johnny's face, Scott made the effort to lift his left arm up to rest his palm against Johnny's shoulder. "Not...your...fault," he breathed out. It was clear by the faltering of his normally crisp speech that his strength was continuing to wane.
'Then whose?' Johnny thought to himself.
Just then Sam returned. In one hand he held a bottle of whiskey and a heavy leather strap. In the other was the knife with its glowing blade.
He handed Johnny the bottle. "Get as much down him as you can."
Johnny did as he was told, lifting his brother's head up, but Scott wasn't able to take in much of the fiery, amber liquid before he began coughing.
Once the coughs subsided, Sam placed the leather strap in Scott's mouth. He gave the elder Lancer son a sympathetic look. After getting a nod from Johnny to his silent question of whether he was ready, Sam began the surgery.
Scott suffered through the deep incision with no more than a stiffened body, but he bucked as much as Johnny's strong hold and the ropes around his legs would allow when the cauterization began. The screams that formed in his throat were thwarted by the strap in his mouth but still managed to come out as muffled but intense groans.
When the heated knife had touched Scott's skin, Johnny had been forced to close his eyes and turn his head to the side. He didn't want to look at the searing of the soft tissue of his brother's neck. However, he couldn't avoid the sound or smell of burning flesh and blood.
Just as Sam took the knife away, Scott's whole body went limp.
Johnny let out a sigh of relief. The suffering, for the moment, was over. He was only sorry it hadn't happened sooner.
Sam both felt and saw Scott give in to the agony and let out a sigh of his own. He glanced up quickly at Johnny, but the young man's attention was focused solely on his brother.
Sam then picked up the threaded needle and began to sew the outer edges of the wounds closed. He was careful to avoid the burned areas, since they would not have held any stitches for very long and would only have made the drying fluids to fuse to the thread, making removal later difficult and painful.
When he was finished, Sam used an ointment from a jar in the little metal box he had brought in earlier and slathered it generously over the wounds, so the bandage he secured in place also wouldn't adhere.
"Johnny, you can lay him back down," Sam said, as he cleaned his bloody hands in a bowl of water and then wiped them on a clean towel.
When there was no reaction to his instruction, Sam placed a hand on Johnny's shoulder and shook it gently. When deep blue eyes looked his way, he repeated, "Johnny, you can lay him down now."
The dark-haired young man released his hold and lay his brother down as carefully as he could. "What now?" he asked.
"We watch, and we wait." The frown he received prompted him to add, "It's all we can do," Sam started to explain, as he untied the ropes around Scott's legs. "After the shock of what was done to it wears off, Scott's body will have to begin the healing process."
Sam didn't mention that he was going to have to keep a close eye on Scott to see if there would be any adverse reactions to the surgery and the loss of blood before moving him to a regular bed in a back room of the office.
The elderly doctor didn't believe in hiding the truth from patients or their families, but he saw no need to bring up details to someone not ready to hear them. He couldn't remember ever seeing Johnny in such an anxious state. It was plain how much Johnny loved his brother, and he was worried enough without knowing, or at least acknowledging to himself, that Scott was far from being all right.
Suddenly, Johnny stood up rigidly and looked at Sam. "Do you think he'll make it?" The look in his eyes clearly said, "I want the truth."
Sam saw that the youngest Lancer was determined to hear the truth about his brother no matter what it was. He should have known that this young man would accept nothing less. "I don't know, Johnny," Sam replied honestly. "Scott is in a very bad way, and I just don't know if he'll live through this or not. It's up to God and Scott right now."
Johnny's knees felt like they would give way, but he locked them in place, so he wouldn't sink to his knees. He knew that all the wounds were serious and had seen how much blood Scott had lost, but he had talked himself into believing that once Sam got involved, all would be well. It was like a physical blow to hear that his brother could actually die. It wasn't a feeling of having misplaced his faith in Sam Jenkins. It was just a matter of accepting the truth of the situation. And, it hurt.
"Why couldn't it have been me?" the young man mumbled.
As quiet as the words were, Sam heard them. "You know Scott would never want that."
"Yeah, I do. That's why he's lying there instead of me," came the bitter reply. "It's not fair, Sam."
"Life often isn't," was the doctor's sage, though less than helpful, reply.
Johnny started pacing, his spurs jingling on the wooden floor of Sam's surgical room.
"I have to send someone to tell Murdoch." The tone clearly said he wanted to do anything but that. "I was hoping to be able to tell him no need to worry. Scott would be all right. But, now..."
"I know it won't be easy news for Murdoch to hear. And, coming all the way here, worrying every minute of those miles, will be hard. But, he can handle it, Johnny. He's handled worse news."
Sam quickly thought back to all the losses that Murdoch Lancer had suffered in his life, though he knew that losing this son forever would be among the worst. At least, Scott was alive. "He needs to know as soon as possible."
"I know," Johnny said sadly. "These past two years I've tried so hard to put my past behind me, Sam. Me and him have gotten to a good place, after buttin' heads for so long. Now, my past may cost my brother, and Murdoch's firstborn son, his life. Dios, Sam. Why do things like this have to keep happenin'? Will I never escape my past?"
The only response that Sam could give the distraught young man was to say, "You've done all you can do, Johnny. You just have to keep going the way you have been and hope that one day people will forget Johnny Madrid ever existed. Time and distance." The words sounded lame, but they were heartfelt nonetheless, and he believed them. "Just don't give up trying."
Sam shook his head and squeezed the young man's shoulder. He could only imagine the crushing grief and guilt that Johnny would feel if Scott didn't survive.
TBC