Free Secrets of the Heart by Jillian Kent

opportunity to observe, learn, and practice surgical techniques.
    Entering the preparatory room Devlin came face-to-face with Melton. “Ravensmoore. Glad you’re here… and on time too.” Melton grinned. “Langford’s got us scheduled to participate in the removal of a limb. Then we remove a bullet lodged deep in a patient’s backside. Great fun, wouldn’t you say?”
    “If you’re not the patient. I imagine they see it far differently.” Devlin grabbed an apron, tying it quickly about his neck and waist. “I hear you tried to pay me a visit. Anything in particular on your mind?”
    “I just wanted to see how you were getting on, that’s all. After Langford’s tongue lashing, I thought you might want to go to the Grey Fox Inn and relax a bit. The innkeeper’s wife said you weren’t available, so I went on without you. Another time, perhaps?”
    “Perhaps,” Devlin said, making no commitment, but pleased that at least this colleague tried to make a genuine effort to include him.
    They entered the surgery room where a boy, no older than ten, lay on a wooden table fighting against two leather straps that restricted his movement. His left hand was pierced through by a jagged piece of wood and dripped blood onto the sawdust-covered floor beneath him.
    The poor child writhed in pain, his pasty skin color a tribute to it. “Help me,” cried the boy, his gaze jumping from one unfamiliar face to the next. His agony-laced, bloodshot eyes locked on Devlin. “Help me.”
    Devlin’s heart shattered. He leaned close to Melton and whispered, “You didn’t tell me he was a boy.”
    “I didn’t realize.” Melton turned a bit pale.
    Devlin moved to the young patient’s side and gently stroked the boy’s hair. Please, God, help me comfort him. Give me words to calm him. “God is watching over you, child. It will be all right. We’re going to take care of you. Soon you will feel better.” Devlin hoped he could keep that promise.
    The child’s breathing quickened. “Don’t cut off my hand!”
    “We’ll try to get the wood out.” He ached for this small, helpless victim of the surgery.
    “I’m glad to see someone has a decent bedside manner.” Langford stepped forward and put a hand on the boy’s sweaty brow. “What’s wrong with the rest of you?” He peered from one student to the next. “Is Ravensmoore the only one who knows how to comfort a wee patient? What if that was your brother or your son lying there in pain? Next time, treat him as though he were. Bring the laudanum.”
    Devlin supported the boy’s head and shoulders and lifted a small glass of amber liquid to his mouth. The child sputtered and coughed.
    “What is your name, son?”
    “Jamie, sir.”
    “Jamie, listen to me. You will be all right. I know this is hard to keep down, but you must drink as much as possible so you won’t have more pain. Do you believe God can help you?”
    The child nodded.
    “I do too.”
    Jamie seemed to gather courage and sipped the liquid as best he could. Eventually his thin body quit its struggle, and he lost consciousness. Devlin breathed a sigh of relief. Thank You, Lord.
    “Good work, Ravensmoore,” Langford said. “Let’s get this over with quickly and see if we can stop the bleeding.” He picked up the amputation saw from the table of instruments.
    “Wait!” Devlin stepped in front of Langford. “Is there no other way to save this boy’s hand?”
    Langford backed up a step. “Do you think I would cut off his hand if I thought we could save the limb? Look at the injury. Even if we remove the wood, we risk the chance of gangrene setting in, and then he might lose not only his hand but his life.” Langford’s bushy brows knitted together over his glasses. “Do you want to take that risk?”
    Devlin glanced at the boy again and cast another prayer heavenward. “I think we should try.”
    “Then we shall,” Langford said and laid the saw next to the other surgical necessities. “I’ll