Chapter 5

"And she has still not regained consciousness in all this time?" Don Diego wondered.

"Consciousness, yes she has," the doctor replied. "Episodically. Lucidity... that's a different matter altogether".

"I beg your pardon?" Diego asked.

"She wakes up, mumbles some unintelligible words or simply moans, sometimes opens her eyes without really looking around her, then she falls back into unconsciousness. It comes and goes, but she developed a fever and when she wakes up for a few minutes she's delirious, she has still not remained lucid long enough for me to ask her about her condition. But there's a nasty bruise just above her temple that doesn't look good to me: she received a blow to the head."

Still there in a corner of the room, Corporal Sepulveda was watching the exchange between them, not taking part in it. For lack of clear orders from the sergeant on what he was to do once he had brought the victim to the doctor, he had remained at her side hoping to be able to ask her about her identity and receive her testimony. But now he was only worried she would never awaken for good and was fretting a bit over her. He felt somewhat responsible for her and for what would become of her: after all, the sergeant had somehow entrusted him with her...

Of course the doctor had no bed in his humble office, therefore the woman had been laid on a simple wooden banquette carpeted with a thick Indian blanket. She had been lying there for a few hours now and even this discomfort had not awakened her. Right now she seemed to be deeply asleep, her face reddened and glistening, beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead.

Meanwhile, Don Diego continued to talk with the doctor:

"She has a scorpion sting somewhere, probably on her thigh," Diego pointed out. "This could explain the fever and delirium. She also dislocated her shoulder this morning, but the head of her humerus has been immediately put back in its socket."

"Where did you hear... Whatever," decided Dr. Hernandez. "First and foremost she has a long gash in her right thigh, a clean cut made by a sword or a dagger, by some kind of sharp blade anyway."

"It was done in order to remove the scorpion's venom," Diego provided.

"Scorpion or not, in any case there's now the beginning of an infection around there; this could as well explain the fever. I had also noticed her shoulder, although I will have to take a closer look to see if it can actually be a reset dislocation. But I also found this."

He then rolled the right sleeve of his patient up above the elbow to show them his discovery: four long red-turning-blue bruises were running across her arm. Dr. Hernandez then lifted her elbow a little and Diego could spot a fifth shorter yet similar hematoma on the inside of her arm.

A hand, he thought. A hand had gripped this arm to the point of bruising its flesh. In order to pin it.

"And this," the doctor added.

Slowly, gently, respectfully, he hicked the woman's skirt up to the top of her right leg, and above a swollen and reddened gash that stretched over two or three inches, similar bluish marks were spread over the white skin of her thigh.

A hand. A hand had forced and maintained this leg, this thigh. And this arm.

Felipe's hands.

Suddenly overcome with the unpleasant indecency of the sight displayed before their eyes while the woman was still unconscious, Diego pulled her skirts back down, looking away. Or was it rather the indecency of these marks and of the gesture they suggested that made him feel suddenly so uncomfortable?

The doctor went on:

"I'm sorry Don Diego, but these marks are quite consistent with the account the Corporal here gave me of the events."

Sepulveda wished the earth would swallow him up, and despite himself he resented Dr. Hernandez a tiny bit for attracting Don Diego's attention on his presence.

"Yes Don Diego," the poor soldier said faintly. "Err... I'm sorry but... but it's the truth..."

"They are also consistent with Felipe's account," Diego replied. "He told me he reset her shoulder, and he incised the leg near the sting to drain the venom out."

Dr. Hernandez lit an oil lamp, got it closer to his patient, lifted her skirts again and leaned over to take a closer look at her thigh.

"Hmm... hmm yes," he said, making a sceptical face, "this, here, it could be a scorpion sting. Hard to say, because the cut runs through it, but it might look like it... possibly..."

"And the fever, doctor?" Diego insisted. "And the loss of consciousness, and delirium? All this could be the consequences of the effect of the venom!"

"As well as of the infection, which is established," the doctor replied. "In addition, the loss of consciousness and delirium could also be the result of the blow to the head. I'm sorry Don Diego, he added with a sigh, but my role here is not to separate fact from fiction in an inquiry, nor to determine culpabilities. My role here is to identify what she suffers from and try to treat it. As for the rest... I remind you that I am a doctor, I took an oath and I don't have the right to take sides."

"Speaking of what she suffers from, Doctor," Sepulveda suddenly intervened, "how is she? What can we do for her? Is it serious?"

Hernandez sighed and made a face between doubt and ignorance.

"On this matter... I cleaned the wound with salt water and alcohol, stopped the bleeding, did the same with scratches on her face, and gave her extract of willow bark and of meadowsweet in small quantities when she awoke, to fight her fever. I also made a poultice of it for her wound. There is nothing else that we can do here, she now needs calm and rest. And a little more comfort than what she has here. The best thing to do is to bring her home, Corporal."

Hearing these last words, Sepulveda seemed lost.

"But doctor, that is..." he started, "the trouble is, I don't know where she lives! I don't even know her! I was actually hoping you could tell me about her."

"Ah Corporal, I'm afraid I can't be of any help to you, I don't know her either."

Both turned to Diego.

"Neither do I," he told them knitting his brow. "If none of us here knows her, then I'm afraid she's a stranger to the pueblo. Besides, she was riding on the Camino Real, coming from the opposite direction, from north. She must be a traveler coming from elsewhere...

"But it is out of the question to leave her here on this bench!" the doctor exclaimed. "She needs real rest!"

"Yet we can't take her to the barracks!" Sepulveda deplored.

"Anyway, I said calm, Corporal, and a minimum of comfort!"

"I'll take her to our hacienda," Diego suggested, "for the time she needs to recover."

"The alcalde will not agree with that, Don Diego," Corporal intervened.

"I fail to see why the alcalde would have a say in this matter," Diego replied rather coldly.

"Well..." Sepulveda mumbled watching the tips of his boots, "since it's Felipe who..."

"Felipe did nothing wrong!" Diego cut him briskly.

"...who... who was on the scene," the corporal diplomatically went on, "the alcalde will not want the lady's testimony and memories to be... influenced. If she ever wakes up one day," he added in a low voice.

"Anyway the ride back here on horseback has already tried her body a great deal," the doctor intervened. "I'd rather she doesn't make such a long journey, even in a cart: the bumps on the road, the jolts..."

"And the mission?" Sepulveda cut in. "The padre could perhaps…"

"The mission is neither a hotel nor a hospital, Corporal!" the doctor exclaimed. "And the padre has already much to do with the Chumash and the children in the orphanage, he already hasn't enough room for everyone!"

"A hotel!" Diego suddenly cried out. "Of course! And rest assured doctor, the journey won't be long at all!"

And not waiting for other two's reaction, he gently put one arm under the stranger's back, the other one under her knees, and lifted her like one carries a sleeping child. Taking great care to prop the señorita's head against his shoulder, he strode out of the doctor's office.