You've been as constant as a Northern Star

The brightest light that shines

It's been you, woman, right down the line

"Right Down the Line" Written and sung by Gerry Rafferty

Chapter Fifteen

A/N Includes description of a wound and treatment. Read at your own risk. Not a doctor; I have no idea how accurate any of this is.

Kitty stepped around the corner, gun ready. Matt was on the ground next to the pile of firewood. The ax lay next to him and his right pant leg below the knee was soaked with blood. There was no one else around.

"Oh, Matt!" she gasped, running to him. She knelt at his side. "What happened?"

"Sorry...Kitty." He spoke through gritted teeth. "Ax...slipped out of my...hands." He looked at her right hand. What'd you bring that for?

Kitty was still holding the gun. She shoved it into her skirt pocket. "Is anyone else here?" Matt shook his head. "You did this to yourself? How bad is it?"

"Don't know. Hurts like...the devil. I'd sooner...take a bullet."

"Matt!" How could you say that to me? "Come on," she said, slipping her arm behind his back, "let's get you inside and take a look at it."

Matt managed to get to his feet slowly, trying to refuse Kitty's assistance. He had trouble putting weight on his injured leg and lurched to one side. "Matt, stop being so stubborn and let me help you!" She tried to hold off the panic she was beginning to feel. She felt his eyes trying to meet hers and looked up at him. I don't want to hurt you or the baby. "I know, Matt, but I can't worry about that right now. I'm not leaving you out here." I can't tell our child I let you bleed to death.

Matt reluctantly draped his right arm over her shoulder. With her arms around his waist, Kitty managed to get him to lean against her left shoulder. "Okay, Cowboy, take it slow now. One step at a time." Gradually she got him closer to the cabin. She wanted to cry with frustration and fear. He needed to have his wound taken care of, now. He had no color in his face and he seemed to be fighting to stay conscious. What concerned her most of all was the way he'd given in way too easily to her insistence on helping him. He must be losing a lot of blood. She had to get him inside before he passed out.

"Come on, Matt," she encouraged. "Keep moving for me, please. We're almost to the door." In fact, they were only halfway to the lean-to door. Incredibly, Matt kept moving forward, taking a step every time Kitty spoke to him. One agonizingly slow step at a time, they finally reached the doorway. As they stepped inside, Matt put too much weight on his injured side and involuntarily clutched at her arm with his free hand. Kitty lost her balance, staggering back against the doorway with Matt's weight against her. She felt the wind go out of her, but they both managed to stay upright. Once she caught her breath, she tried to reassure Matt. "It's all right, Cowboy. We're all right. Just a little ways further and you can lie down." They still had nearly as much distance to travel as they just had, before she could get Matt off his feet. She had planned to get him to the bedroom, but it was looking like they would be lucky to make it to the sofa without one of them collapsing first. Her back ached and her shoulder felt like it was on fire, but unless Matt lost consciousness completely, she was going to get him there.

"Please, Matt, take another step for me," she urged repeatedly. Every step he took with his injured leg forced a grunt or groan from him, and Kitty whispered each time that she was sorry to make him walk like this. Finally they stood in front of the sofa. She got Matt to turn around and was trying to help him lie down when he fell back into the sofa, legs out in front of him, unconscious but breathing. Kitty patted his face and called his name, trying unsuccessfully to rouse him enough to lie down. She didn't have the strength to move him and wanted nothing more than to sit next to him and hold him, but she had to take care of his leg. "I have to get things together," she told him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. "I'll be right back."

Fortunately, there was hot water on the stove. Kitty poured a large basin full, and moved the pot of stewed rabbits to the warmer so they wouldn't cook dry. God only knew when they would have a chance to eat them, but there had to be something to eat when Matt was ready to. She went to the bedroom for the rest of what she needed and set it on the floor next to the basin of hot water. "One more thing," she told Matt, and returned to the kitchen for the two bottles of liquor and a glass. With everything ready, she knelt on the floor to remove the blood-drenched boot.

With her scissors she cut Matt's pant leg to the knee and saw that the ax had sliced all the way through the boot to his leg. With some difficulty, she removed the boot, tossing it to the side, and saw that his sock and the leg of his long underwear were saturated with blood. Fighting nausea and dizziness, she cut them away. The gash looked worse than most of the bullet wounds she'd watched Doc work on, although she vaguely recalled a few that he wouldn't let her see. "Maybe you were right, Cowboy. This looks pretty bad." She looked up at his face. His eyes were still closed, but he was still breathing. "You just keep breathing, Matt, and I'll have you fixed up in no time."

She tore up an old sheet to use for cleaning and bandaging, and set about washing the blood away from the wound. It was still bleeding, which partly obscured her examination, but it looked as though the upper part of the wound not covered by Matt's boot went all the way to the bone. The rest wasn't quite as deep, but still looked serious. She folded a large section of sheet and held it over the wound to see if the bleeding would slow or stop. "Don't worry, Matt. I've watched Doc take care of these a hundred times. I know what to do."

In fact, she had only helped Doc with a few knife wounds, and none of them had looked this serious. She had a pretty good idea what she needed to do, and thanks to watching Doc, she thought she knew how, but she had no idea if she was going to be able to force herself to stitch up Matt's leg. She lifted the cloth to check the wound. It looked as though the bleeding had slowed down some. She had to keep going before she lost her nerve. She picked up the bottle of whiskey and opened it. "This is probably going to sting some," she told the unconscious Matt. She poured the whiskey over the gash and Matt gasped, jerking his leg away. "Sorry, Matt. I have to disinfect it before I fix it."

"Kitty…." Matt muttered, opening his eyes a little. As happy as that made her, she couldn't have him awake. She'd never be able to put stitches in his leg if she knew he could feel it. She poured a large amount of her Napoleon brandy into the glass and sat on the sofa next to him.

"Hello." Kitty smiled at her husband and looked into his eyes. Nice to see you awake. "Can you drink some of this for me?" She supported the back of his neck and put the glass up to his lips. He took a swallow, but turned his head away when she tried to get him to take another.

"Nuh uh," he protested.

"Matt! Matt, look at me." He turned his head back in her direction and their eyes met. "Matt, I want you to listen to me," she said as calmly as she could. "I have to put stitches in your leg where the ax got you. I really need for you to be asleep when I do it. You understand me? I need you to drink some more of this so you can rest while I fix your leg. Please, Matt."

Matt nodded, finally. "Yeah. Yeah...Kitty." He held her gaze.

"I know, Matt." She brought the glass to his mouth again. "It's gonna be all right." He drank until about half the brandy was gone. "Let's see if that was enough," she said, getting back up from the sofa. She pushed the footstool across the room and positioned it next to Matt's right leg. Then she picked up her sewing box, sat on the footstool, and gently pulled Matt's leg across her lap.