Her question didn’t disturb the laconic twirling of his hat. His answer reflected the same unconcern. “Must’ve forgotten to take them off in all the excitement.”
She didn’t believe that for an instant. “Mr…?”
“Just Clint, ma’am.”
“Mr. Clint. I am not a fool. I don’t believe Asa fell off his horse anymore than I believe you forgot to take off your guns.”
“Asa said you kept a man on his toes, ma’am.” His hat continued to twirl at the same lazy pace.
“I’m not finding it particularly difficult when you all persist in treating me like a child.”
His chuckle at her wry statement was as easy as his manner. He was really beginning to irritate her.
She took another breath, picked up the cup of willow bark tea and coaxed a bit down Asa’s throat. “Mr. Clint?”
“Yes?”
“Are you any good with those guns?”
“Fair to middlin’, ma’am.”
Which she took to mean he could hit whatever he wanted. “I want you to do me a favor.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If anyone approaches this ranch, I want you to shoot them.”
“Any particular place?”
“Between the eyes would be nice. If you can’t manage that, try for the heart.”
There was a slight jarring in the twirl of the hat before he answered in his usual calm manner. “I take it we’re not asking questions?”
“If you do your job right, there won’t be any need.”
“No disputing that.”
She lifted the poultice over Asa’s stitches. If anything, the flesh looked angrier.
“Any improvement?” Clint asked.
“I think the swelling has increased and there are red streaks beginning.”
His resigned “damn” said it all.
Crossing to the hearth, he put another log in the fire. With the hand bellows, he pumped the flames high and hot. The three steps it took Elizabeth to reach his side seemed like an eternity. She handed him the long straight knife. He took it from her, his expression grim.
“I was hoping the poultice would work,” he said as he put the knife in the fire.
“So was I,” she admitted.
“We’re going to have to cut and burn out the infection.”
It was an unnecessary statement as they were halfway through the procedure. She watched the blade heat. The tip glowed red. Soon, the whole blade would glow and she’d have to lay it against Asa’s flesh. Listen to him scream. Smell his burned flesh. Her vision blackened at the corners. Her stomach rose.
“You want me to do it?” Clint asked.
She pushed back the nausea. “We’ve already been over this. I’m not strong enough to hold him down. You are. Therefore, I’ve got the job.” She took a deep breath. “We’re going to have to do it twice due to the way the wound curves.”
“You checked?”
At least five times. “Yes. I can’t get a clean line in one try.”
“Damn,” he muttered. “Wish that bullet that creased him had stayed flat rather than bouncing off that rib.”
“If it hadn’t bounced off that rib, he’d be dead.”
Clint pushed to his feet. “You got a point.”
Part of her wished she didn’t. She didn’t know if she could do this.
“I’ll hold him down,” Clint said. “You cut out the infection.”
Elizabeth picked up the smaller knife. Working carefully, she cut away the dead and angry tissue, blocking her ears to Asa’s moans, knowing what she was going to do next would make this seem like a picnic. As she wiped at the fresh blood running down Asa’s side, she glanced at Clint. His face was as white as hers felt. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He handed her another cloth to replace the one she’d dropped on the floor. He nodded to the fireplace. “As soon as that blade’s red to the hilt, you grab it up and place it over the cut.”
She wrapped her hands in thick strips of sheet. “I know what to do.”
She just didn’t know if she could. What if she passed out? What if she failed? The quivering started deep inside. She swallowed hard and beat it back. She’d do this because she had no other choice. She thought of Asa, the way he stood up for her. The way he smiled when she lost her temper. The way he treated her, like he actually thought she was fine just the way she was. His tenderness and desire for her. She squeezed the tremors into silence. She would do this.
The blade glowed red. She took a deep breath. She grabbed the handle, stood, and swung around. The room spun. She bit her lip, but the black encroached. Pain seared her hands from the heat. It was enough to help her stay focused. She hurried to the bed. She had to do this right. She didn’t want to do it more than twice.
Clint pulled the sheets back. “Now,” he ordered. “For the count of ten, hold it there.”
She told herself she was just searing meat. She applied the knife. The scent of burned flesh rose with Asa’s howl of agony. It seemed an interminable amount of time before she hit ten. She removed the knife and returned it to the fire.