Free Comanche Rose by Anita Mills

admitted baldly. "I may have given Mr. Nash a mistaken impression. I said Walker and I were both from Texas."
    "Big place, Texas," Sprenger murmured. He took a deep breath, then exhaled heavily. "Well, I'd better take a look at him." Going around to the other side of the bed, he leaned over and listened to Walker's chest. "No pneumonia, anyway. Guess that's something." He rubbed his hands together briskly, then laid his palm on his patient's brow, holding it there for some time. His frown deepened. "He drink anything?" he asked Nash.
    "She said she got something down him."
    "About a half cup of water," she murmured. "I used a wet napkin."
    Sprenger looked up from Walker to her, taking in the deep-set circles under her eyes, the tight, drawn skin that clung to the hollow cheeks, the fatigue revealed in every line of her face, and he relented. "Guess you didn't take the laudanum."
    "No." She looked away. "I was afraid of the nightmares. I didn't want to sleep."
    "Yeah." He could understand that. There was no guessing what her memory could recount if given a free rein. "Yeah." Turning his attention back to Hap Walker, he frowned again. "Damn. Thought I'd got everything cleaned up in there." He leaned over and spoke loudly, saying, "Can you understand me? I'm going to have to cut."
    Walker's eyelids moved, but did not open. "No... no... don't..."
    "You don't want to die, do you?"
    Hap managed to swallow. His mouth was too dry. He worked his tongue, trying to wet his lips. "Worse... things..." he whispered.
    "Hap—" Sprenger hesitated, then sighed. "All right, I'll take another look first. But don't ask me to let you die. That fever's coming from somewhere."
    "I gave him ten grains of quinine again after you left," Nash admitted. "And I was getting ready to go for more sassafras."
    "He can't sweat," Sprenger muttered. "Guess maybe we could try a little boiled willow, sometimes that works. I sure hate taking him back to surgery."
    "Do you want me to find Walsh and Parker?" Nash wanted to know.
    "I'm getting too old to lift 'em anymore, so you'll have to." The surgeon reached for the blanket covering Walker. "You'd better go, Mrs. Bryce, this won't be pretty."
    Her gaze dropped to Hap Walker for a long moment. "I'd like to stay, Major Sprenger," she decided. "And I've seen quite a lot of ugly things."
    "I expect you have at that." Not knowing how long it would take Nash to find the other two, he nodded. "All right. In that cabinet over there, you'll find the herbals. One of 'em ought to say willow on it. Put a teaspoon of it in a cup, fill the rest with hot water, then strain it through cloth in about five minutes. Make it strong enough he doesn't have to drink a lot of it. You up to doing that?"
    "Where is the water?" she asked.
    "There's two pots on that stove—one's coffee, the other's water. Cups are on the metal stand next to it." As she moved away, he lifted the blanket. "Still say it looks better than it did earlier," he muttered. "Still here, Nash?"
    "Getting my coat, sir."
    "Anything draining?"
    "He's still making pus."
    "All right, go on." Retrieving the trocar from the table, he squeezed the bulb and inserted the tip into the wound. Drawing it back, he looked at the tube. "Still yellow."
    "No chlor—no chlor—"
    "Make you sick?"
    Hap swallowed. "No."
    "That's the wound?" Annie asked, looking over the major's shoulder.
    "It's stitched up now. If I was to open it, it'd be pretty raw."
    "The willow bark is steeping," she remembered to tell him.
    "Good. Mrs. Bryce, there's a large black case in the surgery. Ought to be setting next to the tray on the stand by the operating table. Would you fetch it, please?"
    When she returned with it, he spread the field kit open. "Got one thing left to try, Hap," he murmured, reaching for the scissors. "It'll hurt like hell, but it's not the saw." Going to work, he removed his earlier sutures. When he turned around, Annie was still there, watching. His first inclination was to order her