Night Storm Read Online Free Page B

sitting near the foot of the bed.
    “Let’s see how you did.” She waited for him to remove his hand before lifting the bloodstained cravat from his shoulder. “The bleeding has stopped.” Plunging a soft square of material into the water, she wrung it out only enough to keep from making a mess on the floor. “This will be cold.”
    “Brilliant.” He transferred his attention to the ceiling.
    The moment she placed the wet cloth against his warm flesh, his body went taut. With efficient strokes, she cleaned the area around the bullet hole and carefully inspected the wound. “I need to see if the bullet exited out your back. Can you roll onto your side?”
    Rather than answer, he twisted around to face the far wall. Charlotte spotted the dark hole just above his shoulder blade. She closed her eyes as pure relief poured over her.
    “Bad news?” he asked when she remained quiet.
    “Not at all.” She reached for another clean cloth and dropped it into the basin of water, repeating the same cleansing ritual around the exit wound. “The bullet made a clean escape. Seems fortune favored you with your brush with death.” She lightly tapped his arm. Muscle rippled beneath her touch, leaving her a little breathless. “Y-you may turn back over.” From a corner cabinet, she pulled down a bottle, scissors, fresh linens, thread, and an assortment of other instruments she might need. Placing her cache on another tray, she carried everything to his bedside.
    He nodded at the bottle of whisky. “Is that for me?”
    “Yes, but not in the way you think.”
    “You’re not considering pouring whisky over my open wound, are you?”
    “As a matter of fact, I am. In the medical world, we use the term aqua vitae.”
    “Water of life?” Cameron snorted. “Wrap it in whatever pretty package you like, but you’re not setting fire to my raw flesh.”
    She paused. “What would you rather endure? A minute of cleansing, or hours of debilitating pain and bone-rattling fever, all of which will lead to an eventually slow death?”
    “Do you use your persuasive voice on all your patients, or is this a special one for me?”
    “There’s still time to call for Dr. Hollingsworth.”
    His eyes narrowed. “Get on with it, Charley.”
    She placed a smaller, thicker cloth directly beneath the hole in his shoulder. Next, she uncorked the bottle and retrieved yet another cloth. Wasting no more time, she poured a steady, thin stream of the strong, pungent alcohol over the wound.
    Air sliced between his clenched teeth, and his head pressed hard into the pillow.
    Charlotte continued to douse the area until she was confident the wound was free of any sort of debris. She set down the bottle and tossed the wet cloths into the basin. Next, she threaded the needle before pausing near his shoulder. “Ready?”
    He nodded.
    “Roll onto your good side.”
    Once he was in position, she set to work on the entrance, then exit wound, taking care to keep her attention focused on closing the ragged edges of his flesh and not on Cameron’s occasional flinch or hiss of pain. Charlotte took four of the clean linen squares and placed them over the sutured entry wound. “Hold this in place, please.”
    He did as commanded, giving her a free hand to set another pad of linens over the exit hole. Then she wound a large strip of cloth over his shoulder and around his underarm several times before tying it off. “All done.”
    He rolled onto his back, releasing a slow, tension-relieving breath before opening his eyes.
    On a nearby chair, Charlotte spotted her mother’s rose and sage throw blanket draped across the back. She retrieved it, experiencing a pang of regret even as she did so. It was bound to be stained once she laid it upon him. Although not impossible, blood tended to be difficult to remove.
    She spread the blanket over his torso and repositioned her wooden stool next to his injured thigh. “How did you receive such an injury?”
    A long pause