Stone Dreaming Woman (12 page)

“As soon as this place airs out they can light the fire again,” she said. “I’d like to get him into a bed before the ether wears off. Is that possible?”

“I think so,” Shane replied. He turned to speak to the older woman. She nodded gravely, gesturing to the back room Indian-fashion by pointing with her chin. Jenny understood instantly.

“Can you carry him?” she asked. “I’d really like to get him settled and comfortable before he wakes up.” Shane slipped his arms beneath the unconscious boy. Jenny unbuttoned Jimmy’s clean though faded shirt and maneuvered it off, then turned the bedclothes back over his sleeping form, taking extra pains to make sure they were tented over the bandage.

For the first time since they arrived, she took a close look at Shane. His face looked drawn and parchment pale, and he clenched his left fist against the outside of his leg in an effort to steady it.

“Sergeant, you’re as white as a ghost. I think you’d better go outside and get some fresh air. I can see to everything for now.”

“Won’t you need an interpreter?”

“Not right away. He’ll sleep for another hour or so at least. Generally speaking, the total time a patient was anesthetized is also how long they take to wake up. Go on. Outside. You look terrible. Go.” She made a shooing gesture, and he capitulated without argument, pulling the bedroom door nearly closed behind him. She returned to her patient, pressing a stethoscope to his chest and listening with satisfaction to a strong, young heart and clear lungs.

In the front room, Shane confronted two anxious women. His stomach churned and his head swam from the odor of ether, and he did not want to talk to either of them at that moment. “He will be well and he will walk again,” he said, slipping easily back into Iroquois.

“She is certain?” the older woman asked.

“Grandmère, I have to go outside and see to the horses. I’ll be back.” He took up his parka and made as quick an exit as he could without being obvious. He shrugged the parka onto his shoulders and drew in a grateful draught of chill, winter air. It cleared his head, and his stomach calmed to a bearable level as he descended the steps, patted Midnight’s rump, and talked softly to both horses until Fleur acknowledged his presence with a glance and the flick of an ear. He loosened their cinches and tossed ponchos over the saddles. A few more breaths of the pristine, cold air sufficed; now he could return to the house. As he climbed the porch steps, the older woman came out to meet him, wrapped in the bear robe from the rocking chair.

“My grandson, I realize it is not completely proper that I should speak to you so openly, but I must. This woman…is she the measure of the old healer?”

“Yes, she is. She may exceed him in many ways. Her education is better than his. There are circumstances in which she knows more than he does. And why should a tribal elder apologize for addressing a warrior, even when that warrior is the son of her daughter?”

“Yes, Grey Eyes. You are right. I am within the bounds of propriety to speak to you as I may not have been three moons gone. And I hope you are right about this woman.” He turned to her, looking down from his six feet plus.

“She saved his life. Since she has said he will walk again, he will.”

The older woman averted her eyes. “She did well,” his grandmother agreed, and he realized that, as she had often done in the past, she quizzed him only to get his opinion. Then Jimmy’s mother and younger brother came out onto the porch. The boy waited until Shane acknowledged him with a nod.

“Mother would know when she can go to Jimmy,” he said, a little uncomfortable because his mother, an old-fashioned woman, still observed tribal taboos about speaking directly to adult male relatives.

“When the healer leaves, she may sit at Jimmy’s bedside.” In the past he had often chided his aunt for observing the old ways, but not now. It was simply not worth the effort.

He went back inside, left his parka on the bench, and pushed the bedroom door open. Jimmy looked up at him, glassy-eyed. He could tell the boy was making a valiant effort to control his terror in front of Jenny.

“I’m glad you came right back. He woke up much sooner than I thought he would. He’s a very strong young man. I’ve given him an injection of morphine. He’ll sleep now, and he’ll be fine. But please explain to him that as soon as the stump heals enough to bear his weight—about a month—I’ll see that he’s fitted with a good prosthesis. He’ll walk as well as you or I. Modern prosthetics aren’t crude like they used to be. We’ve come a long way from the days of pirates with peg legs.” The boy’s eyes followed Jenny’s face. Though she still doubted how much English he understood, he seemed reassured by her soft voice. Shane translated for him, patiently answering his few questions. Eventually he answered in groggy monosyllables, then his eyes drifted closed. She pulled the covers higher around his shoulders and gave his thin cheek a pat. Her hands stroked his eyelids closed and, understanding her meaning, he smiled faintly. Jenny led Shane from the bedroom, then turned to him.

“Tell them that he’ll be fine. He can only have fluids until tomorrow morning. He can sit up if he wants, but he should stay quiet. Tell them not to bother the dressing. I’ll come back tomorrow to change it. Here is medicine for him if he’s in pain. Two tablets every four hours. Can they understand that?”

“I’ll explain so they can.” He turned to the two women, and Jenny noted with some curiosity that the younger would not look directly at him. She wished she could understand the strange language they used. The women spoke briefly to each other, and then the younger looked directly at Jenny for a long moment and murmured a soft, shy sentence before disappearing into the bedroom. The boy left, closing the heavy front door with effort, and Shane, Jenny, and the buckskin-clad older woman were alone in the room.

“What did Mrs. Richardson say to me?” Jenny asked.

“She thanked you for the life of her son. Do you want me to take you back now, or do you need to stay longer?”

“There’s not a lot I can do now. Jimmy will probably sleep the rest of the night. We can leave if you want to, but I’d appreciate it if you’d bring me back tomorrow. I’ve another favor to ask of you between now and then. Oh, I so wish I could talk to these people!”

“I’ll bring you back, and I’ll handle whatever else you need. Just let me know when you’re ready to leave. We’re only going to have another hour or two of good moonlight, and then it’s going to get very dark very quickly. I’d really like to be back down on the road before then. Midnight and I know the trail well enough to negotiate it safely, but you and Fleur don’t yet.”

“Fine. Here’s medicine for Jimmy. Explain it to them, and then we can leave.” She went to her bag and doled out ten pills into an ancient stoneware cup that Shane remembered from his childhood. Then she retrieved Mavis’s jacket from the time-polished rude bench while Shane spoke with the older Indian woman. She was tall and square-shouldered, with long, slender hands, and Jenny was struck by a marked similarity in their facial bone structure. The woman broke away from Shane and studied Jenny intently for some moments before touching Jenny’s shoulders lightly and speaking a few involved words. Jenny looked questioningly at Shane.

“She has given you a ceremonial name. It translates as Stone Dreaming Woman. I’ll explain the significance on the way home.”

“I’m honored, then, considering how it was meant.” Jenny bowed her head respectfully. The woman was still watching her closely.

“You are not married?” she asked, switching to oddly accented French. Jenny was surprised, but contained it.

“
Non, Madame
.”

“
Et votre mère?
”

“
Ma mère est mort, Madame.
” The woman nodded gravely, her face expressionless.

Shane put his gun belt on, fastened the lanyard to the ring on the butt of his pistol, and reached for his parka.

“You are leaving now?” the older woman asked. Jenny had to listen closely to follow her unusual pronunciation.

“Yes, Madame. My horse and I do not know the trail yet, and it will be dark soon.”

“Go with God,” she responded. Jenny picked up her bag, and Shane took it from her, escorting her to the door. The woman’s somber eyes followed them until the door closed.

Silently he tightened both cinches and retied her medical bag behind Midnight’s saddle. She mounted. It was a long step up, and his eyes reproached her momentarily for not waiting for his aid. He turned Midnight out of the icy cul-de-sac.

“You did so well today,” she ventured. “Thank you for helping me. It would have been very difficult without you.” He stared straight ahead for a moment, then turned to look at her.

“That ether came very close to making me ill. You breezed through it like it was a Sunday picnic.”

“That’s what I’ve been trained for. I’ve seen and done a lot of surgery. I was uneasy too, at first. Besides, you were tossed in the deep end. Amputations are almost as messy as childbirth.”

“I’ve seen babies born and I’m used to blood. But I’ve known that boy a long time, and that made it hard.”

“He’ll be all right. I know a doctor in Arlington who does nothing but leg prostheses. He’s the best, and one letter will be all it’ll take.”

“These people can’t pay.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? Granted, I was born at night, but it certainly wasn’t last night! Believe me, it won’t be a problem.”

“Well, if you say so. You’re certain he’ll walk?”

“Of course he will. The important thing is that the trauma was low enough that it left his knee intact, with a reasonably long stump below it. Are you sure you want to come back with me? I think Madame LaPorte and I have enough French to communicate, and today seemed to be difficult for you.”

“It’s only because…because I was shot in my left shoulder not long ago, and Angus used ether when he removed the slug. I’ve never been so miserably sick in my entire life. Excuse me, it’s crude, but, well, after a whole day, my belly hurt as bad as my shoulder did.”

“Both ether and morphine can cause vomiting. You probably had a double dose, especially if it wasn’t on an empty stomach. When did this happen, then?”

“The Thursday before you came to Elk Gap. And then the day we met at the skating pond, when I told you Midnight had fallen with me? Well, that wasn’t the entire truth. The brother of the man who shot me took another try, out of revenge. I’d come up here to North Village, and he jumped down from a tree and tried to stab me. Midnight threw us both and went down in the process. I managed to unholster my pistol. We were wrestling around on the ground, and I killed him. I can’t say anything more because my actions are still before a Board of Inquiry. I left his body where it was, came back to Elk Gap, turned the whole mess over to Paul to investigate and write up, and went to bed. I still don’t know why I went skating that night. I think it was just to see if you would be there.”

“But that’s only been three weeks ago! You should have told me!”

“Why? You needed help, and I was the only one who understood what needed to be done.”

“Well…because… How bad was your shoulder?”

“Not too bad. It missed everything important. Once I quit throwing up I was all right.”

“But that can be such a dangerous injury. The subclavian artery is huge. People bleed to death very quickly if it’s severed. And there is a very big nerve right next to it, too, called the brachial plexus. Damage it, and your arm will be paralyzed. I’ll show you my human anatomy text. It’ll scare your socks off. But if I’d known about all of this, you wouldn’t have been within a mile of that operation.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t know, then. Besides, I doubt I’ll be sick again. I think it was mostly in my head.” She rose a little in the stirrups, absorbing the jolts with her knees as Fleur started to descend.

“It’s the kind of reaction that goes away over time,” she agreed. “Hopefully this is the only time you get tangled up in a mess like this, though. I don’t even know if it’s legal for me to practice medicine in Canada.”

“It is. There’s reciprocity for most licensed professionals. You can practice here any time you want to. However, if you stay, you’ll eventually have to sit for the board exams here in Ontario and apply for a work visa. If you want, I’ll take you to Ottawa myself…” He broke off, biting his lip.

“I just heard a very big ‘if’ at the end of that sentence.”

“If the Board of Inquiry clears me and I’m still with the Northwest Mounted.” Now it was Jenny’s turn to bite her lip.

He drew a tentative breath and went on. “You see, Paul never found Hankins’ knife. Since there were no marks on me, he couldn’t prove Bart was armed when he attacked me.
Prima facie
, it looks as though I killed an unarmed man.”

“Oh, no! But what will happen to you?”

He shrugged as well as he could under his heavy parka. “If I’m cleared, nothing. I’ll just go back to work. If not, I’ll be discharged. I could even be indicted on criminal charges. If the Board finds against me, I will almost certainly lose my bar license even absent a formal indictment. So you see, a good portion of my life is on the line. But there’s no use worrying. It’s out of my hands, and I’m going to do what I can until they call me to River Bend.”

“So you’re on duty now?”

“Yes. Angus just cleared me to go back to full duty last Monday.”

“I wish I had known all this before. Initially I had a very adverse opinion of you, and I’m sorry. And about the day we met? If I had known you’d been shot only four days earlier, I’d have frog-marched you upstairs and put you to bed myself.”

The beginnings of a smile tugged at his cheeks. “The top floor is for Mrs. Hammill’s gentlemen boarders. No ladies are allowed.”

“I’m not a lady, Sergeant. I’m a medical doctor.” He looked down, and she sensed he was trying not to laugh.

“Would you mind explaining something to me?” he asked at length.

“What’s that?”