Chapter Text
There was someone beating on her door. She startled and jumped out of her chair, the book in her lap tumbling to the ground, Kip barked and stared at the door. She stepped to the hearth and quickly tugged the shotgun off where it sat on the mantle. The sun had been down for an hour at least, there should be no one at her door.
The banging came again.
And a voice.
It was loud enough to understand clearly but she could hear it was strained. “Please. I’m sorry to intrude on your home. My horse threw me down three miles back towards the gorge. I saw your light after the sun had set and thanked my stars. I’m hurt worse than I thought...” His voice trailed off for a moment, she could hear him breathing hard.
She stepped towards the door and put a hand on the lock bar. She looked at Kip again at her feet. He stood alert looking at the door, but his hackles hadn’t risen at the sound of the man’s voice. She took it as a good sign and spoke loud enough to be heard through the door. “Are you armed traveller?”
She could hear the relief in his voice when he spoke again. “Yes ma’am. But my rifle and ammo are on my horse. She’s at the trough by the tree. I have a knife but you can hold onto it for me.” His answer more than satisfied her.
She propped the shotgun on the wall and pushed the lock bar out of place.
The stranger practically fell into her home and she caught him by the shoulders. He wasn’t much taller than her and she was able to keep him on his feet. He held his left side with his hand, blood making his dusty blue shirt dark between his long fingers. She used his momentum to get him the two steps to the chair and turned to quickly close the door. Kip sniffed the man’s fingers but stayed close to her skirts.
When she turned back the man was leaning on the chair and offering his hunting knife and sheath to her with his unbloodied hand. He looked at her from under the brim of his hat as she took it. “You’re kind to take a stranger in at night ma’am. I’m in your debt”
She slid the sheathed knife into her big petticoat pocket and moved to get her shoulder under his arm as he started sliding down the back of the chair. “Don’t thank me yet, traveller. I haven’t fixed that hole in you yet.” He let out a small chuckle, which quickly turned to a pained cough. His face was close to hers as she moved him to sit on the couch across from the fire and his breath stirred the strands of hair around her face. It smelled like juniper berries.
He lay back, breathing harder now and roughly pulled the hat from his head. His long brown hair fell across the pillows she had embroidered in the dark snowy months of last winter. The red birds in the corners echoing the red blood streaked on his hands.
She knelt beside him to inspect his wound. He looked at her over his high cheekbones without lifting his head up. “I’m sorry if I bleed on your nice furniture ma’am”
She tisked her tongue at him “You’ll be a lot sorrier if I have to move your dead body out of here. Just focus on breathing deep. Lemme see what happened” The corners of his lips almost smiled before he grimaced in pain as she lifted his hand off his bloody side and pulled the sticky shirt out of the way. He had been holding a now soaked kerchief to the wound. She was almost relieved when she saw it wasn’t a bullet hole seeping blood. There was a deep gash just above his left hipbone, bits of wood still clinging to the edges and two big splinters still in him. It was ringed by a deep purple bruise that stretched up his side. She quickly assessed the wound and placed the kerchief back over it, putting his hand back on top. “Keep good pressure on it, like you were before. I’ll be right back” He nodded his chin at her as she stood went to gather supplies.
She was back in a few short minutes with a basin of water, clean strips of cloth and a big glass jug half full of a clear liquid. She moved the kerosene lamp from the side table it had been on and set it next to her.
Her hands were steady when she sowed up her ripped work clothes or helped bring a new lamb into the world, she hoped they would be with a man, bloody and in pain, at the end of her fingers.
She held the glass jug out to him. “Sorry if it’s not your taste. I make it myself. But it’ll do the trick. I’m going to put this blanket under you so you’ll need to sit up for just a moment.” He nodded again as he took the jug from her and took a deep swig. He sucked air hard through his teeth and handed it back. She bent over him as he rolled a little to the side and quickly tucked the blanket under his back. When he lay back she could see the kerchief under his hand was totally soaked.
Now was the time to act.
She knelt again, looking over him. She met his eyes and she could see sweat beading on his forehead and the pain lacing across his face. It didn’t look right on that face. She knew it would get worse before it could get better.
“Are you ready? I have to clean it and tie it tight. You’ve already bled a lot and it needs to stop.” He nodded again and she could see him stealing himself.
“Can I have another drink before you start?” His voice came out raspy, like it caught in his throat. She handed him the jug and pulled the kerchief from off her neck to hand him as well.
“Bite down on this. And yell if you need to. It’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch” He bunched it up and put the fabric between her teeth. His deep brown eyes locked on hers and he nodded for her to begin. She lifted his hand off the bloody wound and got to work.
An hour later she was putting the red-stained rags in a bucket and quietly cleaning up her makeshift surgery. He was asleep now, he had fainted from pain when she pulled the last big splinter from his side, but his breathing was steady and she had got the bleeding to stop. A bandage was wrapped tight around his middle, but he still wore his dirty shirt, pushed up under his arms. She softly undid the last few buttons so he could easily slip out of it if he wanted. She stood and decided to take his boots off before seeing to his horse and settling in for the night.
You can tell a lot about a man from his boots. His were were a light tan leather, simple and quality, but well worn. There were flecks of river mud on them and the silky seed pods of canyon grass still clung in places. She liked what the boots told her about the stranger in her home. He had been honest since he got here. She could feel the weight of his knife against her leg. She looked at his sleeping face once more before she and Kip slipped outside to take the strangers horse to the barn.