6 The Wedding (11 page)

“What?”

“We got the Gulch on the radio. Big
John’s collapsed. They want to know what to do.”

Doc looked down at his patient. He’d
set the leg but there were some bad tears in the skin where the bone had come
through that were bleeding more than he liked. Billy’s color was also somewhere
between ghost white and concrete gray. He couldn’t leave him to Linda.

“Get the radio in here,” he ordered
and kept working.

*
 
*
 
*

I was calmer once I heard the Bones’ voice on the radio.
Especially since his instructions were not being directed at me.

“Madge, you know my office. Go get the topical pain killer,
and some Scotch. Then go home and get your knives. They’re sterile?”

“Yes.” And she was away.

“We have whisky here,” the Braids said loudly.

“Good, you’ll need it. You have some salt pork still?” the
Bones asked.

“Yes.”

“Get it and cut it into strips about one inch wide. And we
need some soda straws, or some kind of small rigid tubing.”

The word
knives
made me feel a little ill. I don’t like them—don’t like butchering. Don’t like
blood.
Especially human blood.
But Big John had been
like a father to me and I would not leave the Flowers to face this crisis
without my help.

“Butterscotch?”

I jumped.

“Yes, Doc.”

“I want you to pour out a small glass of whisky. You’ll need
it to swab his skin unless the Braids
has
rubbing
alcohol.”

The Braids shook her head.

“Okay.”

Swab skin.
I could do that. But
first I had to get out of my dress.

“Undo me,” I said to the Flowers. “This dress is in the
way.”

*
 
*
 
*

The town was deserted and at first Chuck had the strangest
impression that everyone had been carried off by the rapture, leaving him and
Anatoli as the sole survivors.

“Where…?” Anatoli asked uneasily.

“The community hall,” Chuck said, looking at his watch and
trying not to think of Soda Springs. “They must all be there for the wedding.”

But it was late. Nearly three hours since the wedding was
supposed to start.

They walked down the middle of the street, again putting
Chuck in mind of their doomed adventures in the outback, though he was actually
more frightened now than he had been when facing booby traps.

Eventually they did hear voices inside the hall, but they
were hushed and there was crying. The sound reminded Chuck of nothing so much
as a funeral. His breath caught. Had something happened while he was gone? Was
it his father?

Or was this about the wedding? Did they think he was dead?
Or, maybe worse, that he had jilted Butterscotch?

The Mountie stepped through the hall door first and was met
with many pairs of frightened eyes.

He was vaguely aware that the hall had been prepared for a
wedding but was now in disarray. There was also a red-haired child sitting next
to his father—who also had red hair—and Max.

He didn’t see Butterscotch.

“Chuck!” Horace gasped, and then hurried to embrace him.
“Thank God! We’ve been frantic.”

“Where’s Butterscotch?” the Mountie asked, his heart in his
throat. “
Where’s
Big John and the Flowers?”

“Big John collapsed,” Horace said. “They’ve got him down at
the store. The doc is on the radio. He’s going to talk Butterscotch through
it.”

“Talk her through it?” the Mountie asked blankly.

“I think Butterscotch is about to operate on Big John.”

“Butterscotch
operate
?”

“She’s the best choice,” Horace said. “I can’t imagine
asking the Flowers to do it and Sasha’s English isn’t good enough.”

Asking nothing else, the Mountie hurried from the hall, and
then began running flat out for the store.

*
 
*
 
*

“Butterscotch?”

“Yes, Doc.”
I was kneeling beside
Big John in my slip. The store wasn’t cold but I was chilled to the bone. Big
John looked really bad. I had never seen my mentor when he wasn’t strong and
healthy, and his vulnerability shook me as nothing else ever had. Big John was
the heart and soul of the Gulch. We would be lost without him. I would be lost.
He just couldn’t die.

“Give the whisky to Big John and have him drink it.”

“How much?”

“As much as he wants and then a little
more.”

“But—”

“The topical anesthetic won’t help that much once you get
inside. You need to knock him out and it is too dangerous for you to administer
anesthetic.”

“
Gimme
the whisky,” Big John
gasped and the Flowers handed it over then helped lift his head. “I don’t want
to be awake for this.”

Madge arrived, red of face and breathless, but she had
everything with her, including extra Scotch. I sighed with relief.

“I got it all,” Madge gasped and the Braids passed this on.

“Good. Get him undressed.
Butterscotch.”

“Yes, Doc.”

“Girl, I need you to do something important now. Are you
ready?”

“Okay, yes. What should I do?”

“You’ve the best eyes of the bunch and the steadiest hand
next to the Flowers. You’re going to have to do this because we can’t ask her
to work on her own father.”

“Do this?” I said stupidly.

“You’re going to have to be my hands. Just do as I say and
everything will be fine. You have a soft touch.”

“You want me to remove his appendix?” The horror I felt was
reflected in my voice.

“No.” I felt premature relief until he added, “But you are
going to put in a drain to buy some time until I can get there.”

I swallowed. A hundred protests arose in my head, but I
didn’t utter them. I had to do this.
Somehow.

“Okay,” I managed to whisper. “Tell me what to do.”

*
 
*
 
*

“Good girl. With your eyes, draw a line from the belly
button to the hip bone. Halfway down it is where the appendix is. It’s where
things hurt most if you need confirmation,” the Bones added. He tied off the
first suture and glanced at his patient’s face. Billy’s color and breathing
were better now that they’d got some blood and saline in him.

Linda, who had steadier hands, would usually have been
assisting with closing but was working the radio. Doc was
having
to do the final sew-up himself.

“Okay, got it.” Butterscotch’s voice was steady. The Bones
was proud of her. She had obviously been shaken but was ready to do whatever
was needed. Thank God she was level headed. Marge was competent but her eyes
were going and her hands were none too steady anymore. Kind of like his.

Doc pushed the thought away.

“Have Madge give you her smallest knife and then she needs
to be ready with salt pork and rolls of gauze.” The Doc added, “The salt will
stop the bleeding.”

Or so he hoped.

“You are going to want to cut across the mental line you
drew—not along it.
Across it.
Not too long a cut. No
more than three inches. And not real deep on the first pass. You need to open
him enough to get past the muscle and see inside and you will have to go
through muscle wall. Go with the grain, don’t cut through it. You’ve helped
butcher deer before?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll need to use about that much pressure. The insides
aren’t that much different when you get past the skin.”

He hoped that she could do
it,
pretend that Big John was a deer. The Bones still remembered his first body. It
had been a cadaver, but cutting it open had been horrible, terrifying. He could
only imagine what she was feeling.

“You are looking for a thing that looks like a worm. When
you find it, cut a small slit in it and insert the straw. Make damn sure it
isn’t the intestine.”

*
 
*
 
*

“I did it,” I said hoarsely, sweat trickling down my back. “I
put the straw in.”

“Is there pus?”

“Yes.
Some.
And a little blood.”

“You need to suck out as much as you can and then pack the
incision with salt pork. I’m going to sign off now. We are leaving immediately
and I’ll be there in just a few hours.”

“Okay,” I whispered, feeling dizzy and looking for the last
bit of will that would allow me to put my lips to the blue straw.

“Let me, I know how. I’ve done it with the dogs,” Madge
said, pushing me gently aside. The Flowers had fainted a few minutes back and
Sasha had laid her on the counter with her feet propped up on the old-fashioned
cash register. “There’s someone here for you that might need you more.”

“What?” I looked up from the red wound I had made in my
mentor and it took a moment to see Chuck standing a few feet back from Big
John’s body. He was covered in dirt from his hair to his boots, but he had
never looked more perfect.

“Chuck!” I cried, pushing to my feet though my legs had gone
to sleep and didn’t want to hold me.

“Butterscotch,” he whispered, taking me in his arms. I did
my best to keep the blood on my hands from touching him, but only half succeeded.

It took us a while to get down to the ceremony once we were back
at the hall. Everyone wanted to know about Big John and what had happened to
the Mountie and Anatoli that made them so late, and were relieved when all the
stories were told and everything looked like it would work out after all.

The Mountie and Anatoli had to talk around mouthfuls of food
since they were starving, but no one minded the lapse in manners. Disaster had
come close to us and it was no time for formalities.

Since the Mountie was too filthy to put on his dress uniform
and we didn’t want to wait for him to bathe before the wedding, I stayed in my
slip and a borrowed sweater, which was mostly clean because the Braids had
insisted I put on an apron before I began operating.

Reverend
McNab
had the good sense
not to wander off into any stories or to try telling pointless jokes between
the
Dearly
beloved, we are gathered
and the
You may kiss the bride
. This was a day
for rejoicing and prayers of thanks, but not for levity. Father White was also
on his best behavior and didn’t threaten anyone with blacklisting from bingo or
eternal damnation.

The specifics of the ceremony escape me to this day. The
only moment that is clear in my mind was when Wendell rose to offer his prayer.

Oh Great Spirit,
whose voice I hear in the winds

and
whose breath gives life to everyone,

Hear me.

I come to you as one
of your many children;

I am weak ... I am
small ... I need your wisdom

and
your strength.

Let me walk in
beauty, and make my eyes ever

behold
the red and purple sunsets.

Make my hands respect
the things you have made,

and
make my ears sharp so I may hear your voice.

Make me wise, so that
I may understand what you

have
taught my people and

the
lessons you have hidden in each leaf and each rock.

I ask for wisdom and
strength,

not
to be superior to my brothers, but to be able

to
fight my greatest enemy, myself.

Make me ever ready to
come before you

with
clean hands and a straight eye,

so
as life fades away as a fading sunset,

my
spirit may come to you without shame.

I think most of us, even the crusty ministers who thought
Wendell a godless heathen, were moved.

The Bones, who must have broken every land-speed record and
perhaps an axle, made it back in just over three hours and he was able to
remove Big John’s appendix. He told me later that I had saved Big John’s life
and for some reason that made me cry. Maybe because I was glad to have finally
had the chance to repay the favor of his saving
mine
two decades ago.

Though Fiddling Thomas had done his work and then some, he
insisted that he had the energy to play one last song for the Mountie and me to
dance to. The choice was an odd one for Thomas who liked Celtic music, but I
couldn’t argue with “It’s a Wonderful World.”
Because it was
indeed a wonderful place.

*
 
*
 
*

Sasha and Horace had positioned themselves down near the
lake in front of their fireworks display. Everything was ready and waiting,
especially the two engineers who had brought this particular display to life. They
were in walkie-talkie communications with the Kid who was in charge of
orchestrating the whole affair. Horace had been skeptical when the Kid came to
them in their forest lean-to and asked if he could somehow be involved in
setting off the fireworks. Horace knew that the Flowers would skin them alive
if she saw her stepson within one hundred yards of a functioning firework. It
was Sasha who eventually relented and found a way to include him.

“Ricky,” he said during the Kid’s last visit, “we have need
of your help.”

“Anything,” Ricky said joyously. “What can I do for you, Mr.
Ivanovitch?”

This was the first time that Horace had ever heard Sasha’s
last name. Horace wondered if the Kid had heard the Butcher of Minsk part yet.