Free Christmas With the Colburns by Keely Brooke Keith Page A

drew her lips into her mouth as she fought the
urge to cry. Her hand passed over his head with rigid strokes. “You’re going to
be fine, Matthew. Miss Colburn will fix it.”
    When Lydia put her hands on the boy’s leg, he recoiled and
screamed. It was not from pain but from terror. With his fractured leg tucked
close to his body, Matthew buried his face into the ribbing of his mother’s
dress. Lydia gave Mrs. McIntosh a chance to muster her courage and make her son
cooperate, but instead she coddled him. Though Lydia appreciated a nurturing
mother, this was no time to help a child hide his wound. “Your mother is right.
You’re going to be just fine.” She reached for his leg again. “You don’t have
to look at me, but you must leave your leg on the pillow. Matthew? Let me
straighten your leg.”
    Mrs. McIntosh glared at the bloody wound and then began to
weep. “Oh, Matt, I’m so sorry. My poor baby!”
    “Mrs. McIntosh?” Lydia raised her voice over the woman’s
sobs. “Mrs. McIntosh? Rebecca! I know this is hard, but please, be calm for
Matthew’s sake. I need you to help me. Can you do that?”
    Mrs. McIntosh sniffled and straightened her posture. “Yes.
I’m sorry, Lydia.”
    “I need more light. Do you have another lamp in the house?”
    “Yes, of course.” Mrs. McIntosh wiped her nose on her sleeve
and scurried out of the room.
    Relieved that Mrs. McIntosh was gone, Lydia caught the boy’s
eye. She touched his foot with both hands. “Matthew, you must lie still while I
work on your leg. You won’t feel any pain since you were a good boy and drank
the gray leaf tea your mother made, but now you have to be brave for me and
hold still. All right?” She was prepared to hold him down but loathed the
thought. Matthew seemed to understand her seriousness and allowed her to move
his broken leg back onto the pillow. She worked quickly and methodically until
the bleeding was under control. She cleaned his flesh with gray leaf oil, then
looked into the open wound and aligned the bone.
    Mrs. McIntosh’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, but Lydia
was not ready for the anxious mother’s return. “Please, bring some cold water
and a few clean rags first. I need them more than I need the extra light.”
Lydia gave her voice enough volume for Mrs. McIntosh to hear her without
entering the room.
    She glanced at her patient’s face as she continued to work.
His eyes were clenched shut. Her heart ached for the pallid and broken boy. “I
heard you had a birthday recently, Matthew. How old are you now? Fifteen?
Sixteen?”
    Matthew opened his eyes but stared at the ceiling. “I’m
seven,” he slurred through missing teeth. His respiration had settled; the gray
leaf’s healing power was beginning to take effect.
    “Ah, I see you’ve lost another baby tooth.” She cut a piece
of silk thread for suture and kept the needle out of his sight while she
threaded it. “Soon you will have handsome new adult teeth.”
    Matthew closed his eyes again and lay still. Mrs. McIntosh
walked back into the room with a pitcher of water in her hands and a wad of
kitchen towels tucked under her elbow. She set the water jug on the floor
beside Lydia’s feet and bundled the rags on the bed. “Is that enough?”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    “I’ll be right back with the lamp.” Mrs. McIntosh vanished
from the room again.
    Lydia covered the stitches with a thick layer of gray leaf salve.
As she wrapped his leg loosely with clean muslin, she heard Mr. McIntosh enter
the house. Mrs. McIntosh spoke to her husband in a hushed tone then walked into
the room holding a lit oil lamp.
    Mrs. McIntosh sighed. “Oh, thank heavens you’re done.” She set
the lamp on a doily-covered table by the bed then sat on the edge of the
mattress beside Matthew. “He’s asleep,” she whispered.
    Lydia slathered her hands with the disinfecting gray leaf oil
then wiped them on a clean rag. As she gathered her medical instruments, Mr.
McIntosh