“I’ll Pay You Back When I Grow Up,” Girl Told Mountain Man — 15 Years Later, He Remembered
Chapter 7
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The sight made her jaw clench. The bullet had entered just below the collarbone, tearing a ragged hole through the dense muscle and grazing the bone before exiting out the back. The entry wound was a jagged, swollen crater of black, green, and yellow flesh. Red lines radiated outward from the puncture, tracking aggressively up the thick tendons of his neck and down toward his ribs. The poison was moving fast, flooding his bloodstream."I have to cut the dead flesh away," Clara said, her voice completely detached. It was the professional shield she used to keep her hands from shaking when a patient was screaming. "And then I have to burn the remaining infection out with acid. I don't have chloroform. I don't have ether. I have half a bottle of medicinal whiskey, and you need to drink it now. It is going to hurt worse than getting shot."Gideon's head rolled against the back of the heavy armchair. He looked past her, fixing his fever-glassy gaze on the instruments lined up on the table. A bitter, exhausted smile touched the corners of his cracked lips."Don't waste the whiskey. I need my head clear. Just get on with it, Clara.""I am not asking," Clara said. She unstoppered the flask and pressed it against his mouth. "Drink. Or I will pour it down your throat while you're screaming."He met her eyes. The freezing, terrified girl in the wagon was entirely gone; in her place was a woman of iron and quiet fury. He parted his lips and swallowed the cheap, burning liquor. He drank until he choked, coughing violently, which sent fresh waves of dark blood oozing from his shoulder.Clara grabbed a thick leather strap from a harness hanging on the wall. She folded it in half and placed it between his teeth."Bite down. Do not move. If you thrash, I might cut an artery and you will bleed out on this floor in three minutes. Do you understand me?"Gideon nodded once. He clamped his teeth onto the leather. His left hand gripped the armrest of the chair so hard his knuckles turned stark white.Clara moved with brutal, efficient speed. She took a clean rag, soaked it in boiled water from the kettle over the hearth, and wiped the crusted blood away from the edges of the wound.Then, she picked up the scalpel.She didn't hesitate. She pressed the silver blade into the infected flesh and began to slice away the rot.Gideon's entire body went rigid. A low, muffled groan tore through the leather strap in his mouth, sounding like an animal caught in a steel trap. The muscles in his neck strained, cording like thick ropes. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with the grime and soot.Clara ignored the horrific sounds. She focused entirely on the blade, on the color of the muscle, separating the dying black tissue from the bleeding, healthy red meat beneath. She worked in absolute silence, her hands steady, her breath controlled.