Chapter Thirty-Six

After that night, Jacob peered at every scrape and bandage on every customer who came through his shop. None of them looked serious, let alone infected, but several times he had to stop himself inquiring about the cause of the injury. He supposed most men wouldn’t want to talk about their shaving mishaps while being fitted for trousers. He did speak up one afternoon in mid-September when a boy came through the store with a bad cough, but the young man’s father just rolled his eyes.

“Someone has just learned an important lesson about staying out of my tobacco,” the father said and slapped his son’s back a little harder than the situation warranted. Jacob chuckled. He and Will had learned that lesson as boys too. He hadn’t touched the stuff since, though Will enjoyed a pipe in the evenings.

Late that afternoon, Jacob stood behind the counter updating his sales ledger when the bell over the door jangled. He looked up. Eleanor entered the store, followed closely by Andrew. Jacob grinned. Now only six or seven weeks away from the birth of her baby, she carried a conspicuous bulge under her waistline. She waddled just a little, but her face glowed as she smiled at him. He darted from behind the counter and clasped her outstretched hand.

“What a lovely surprise,” he said, releasing Eleanor’s hand and shaking Andrew’s. “What brings you into town?”

“We needed a few more things for the nursery,” Eleanor said.

Behind her, Andrew shook his head and mouthed “No, we didn’t.”

Jacob swallowed his laughter and led Eleanor and Andrew to the small office in the back of the store. He offered Eleanor the only chair, and he and Andrew leaned against one wall.

“How have you been feeling?” Jacob asked.

“Very well,” Eleanor said. “I don’t expect I’ll be able to buckle my own shoes much longer, but Andrew has promised to help me.” She beamed up at her husband, who leaned over and kissed the crown of her head. Jacob smiled.

“You’ll get good at buckling ladies’ shoes,” he said. “When Hannah was carrying Lyddie—”

“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Lewis,” Luo Jun said, sticking his head in the door. “But that shipment of worsted wool arrived, and I can’t get the crate open.”

Jacob excused himself, but Andrew held up a hand.

“I’ll help him, Uncle Jacob. Stay here and chat with Ellie.”

Andrew followed Luo Jun out the door and Jacob continued regaling Eleanor with his anecdote. He had just reached the part where Hannah’s feet had swollen so badly that he had to slice her shoes off with a scalpel when Andrew let out a loud yelp from the next room. Jacob and Eleanor frowned at each other.

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll check it out.”

Naturally, Eleanor rose from her seat and followed him into the storeroom a few steps down the hall. Andrew sat on the floor next to the crate of worsted wool and pressed a handkerchief to the palm of his right hand while Luo Jun hovered over him. A bright red bloom spread slowly across the white fabric. Jacob dropped to his knees next to his nephew.

“What happened?”

Andrew shook his head, clearly annoyed with himself. “I lost my grip on the damn crowbar and started to fall over. I threw my hand out to catch myself and sliced it on the corner of the crate.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eleanor said. “Is it very painful?”

Jacob glanced over at the still unopened crate. The corner nearest them jutted out in a jagged edge.

“Let me see that.” He took his nephew’s wrist and pulled his hand close. He gently peeled the handkerchief away and studied the wound. He shook his head. “The bleeding’s about stopped, but this needs stitches.”

“I’ll fetch Dr. Hancock,” Luo Jun said. He stood and headed toward the door.

“Wait,” Jacob said. He looked up from Andrew to Eleanor and caught her eye. The corners of her mouth twitched, and she nodded, something like triumph in her eyes.

“I’ll do it,” Jacob said. “I can do it. I’ll do it. I can do it.” He bit his lower lip to stop his babbling. His mind raced. Should he take Andrew back to his house and stitch him up there? Would the boy be too dizzy from blood loss to walk the few blocks? Would the exertion make the bleeding start up again? Perhaps he should leave him here while he ran home to fetch his bag. But what if the bleeding started again while he was gone? Would Luo Jun be able to get it stopped again? Of course, it was just the palm of Andrew’s hand. He hadn’t severed the radial artery.

“Jacob?” Eleanor said.

He shook his head and shot to his feet. “Sorry. You all stay here while I fetch my bag. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

The walk home and back to the store should have taken closer to fifteen minutes, but once he was off the main thoroughfare, Jacob broke into a trot.

“You want some chloroform while I do this?” he asked Andrew a few minutes later when he returned to the store with his physician’s bag. His nephew sat on the floor exactly where he’d left him.

Andrew shook his head. “Not the first time I’ve been sewn up.”

Jacob stirred carbolic acid together with some olive oil he kept in his bag for this purpose. He peered into the bowl and wrinkled his nose against the sweet, tarry smell. He dipped the end of a needle less syringe into the liquid and filled it up.

“What is that, anyway?” Andrew said when Jacob approached him with the syringe.

“A… cleansing agent. It will keep the wound from getting infected,” Jacob said. Using the word “acid” probably wouldn’t set his nephew at ease. “Now hold still.”

Before he could second-guess himself, Jacob squirted the contents of the syringe directly into the gash on Andrew’s palm. The younger man sucked in a sharp breath and jiggled both legs like he was about to spring to his feet. His face flushed and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

“Jacob?” Eleanor said, her voice wavering.

Jacob cringed inwardly, hoping he’d diluted the carbolic acid enough so it wouldn’t burn Andrew’s skin. He took hold of Andrew’s wrist and pulled his nephew’s hand away from where Andrew was cradling it against his chest. Andrew breathed out in short puffs while Jacob examined his hand. The skin was red but not burning. Jacob exhaled.

“It’s all right,” he said. “The, uh, cleanser, just stings a bit.”

“A bit,” Andrew said, panting.

“Let’s get this sewed up.” Jacob grinned and caught Andrew’s eye. “You sure you don’t want that chloroform?”

Andrew shook his head and wiped a line of sweat from his hairline. “Stitches are less painful than what you just did.”

Jacob chuckled, dug in his bag, and pulled out a suture needle, a roll of dentist’s silk, and a small pair of scissors. He knelt on the floor next to Andrew to thread the needle and immediately broke out in a cold sweat. He swallowed hard, jabbed the end of the silk at the eye of the needle, and missed. His hands trembled when he tried again. He missed a second time.

“You all right?” Andrew asked.

“Of course,” Jacob said. He swallowed again and took as deep a breath as he could without it being too obvious. He glanced around the room. “Just need better light. Let’s move over to the window.”

Jacob used the brief delay to take two more deep, steadying breaths while Andrew, Eleanor, and Luo Jun moved next to the small window on the far side of the little office. Luo Jun pulled Jacob’s desk chair over for Andrew to sit in.

“Hold yourself together, man,” he mumbled to himself. “You can do this.” Thank God he’d left the Minié ball at home. He didn’t need its commentary just now. He looked at the trio waiting for him by the window. He didn’t like the audience.

“Jun,” he said, “please go put up the closed sign. Let’s not have anyone wandering in while I’m doing this. And if you could, please, lock up the cash register.”

Luo Jun nodded and scurried out. Jacob looked at Eleanor, trying to devise a reason to get her out of the room, too, but nothing came to him. She caught his gaze and held it for several seconds, finally smiling at him.

“You’ll do fine,” she said softly.

Jacob smiled back and some of the tension drained from his body. “Thank you,” he said.

Sidling up to Andrew near the window, he threaded the needle successfully.

“Rest your arm on the arm of the chair,” he said. “Try to relax.”

Andrew nodded. Jacob pinched the sides of the wound together, took a deep breath, and plunged the needle into his nephew’s flesh. He heard Andrew suck in a sharp breath and Eleanor let out a small, sympathetic whimper, but then the world around him faded, and there was nothing in the room but him, the wound, and his needle and thread.

The cut wasn’t deep, and Jacob instinctively went with an interrupted suture, creating individual stitches rather than a continuous strand. He clipped his silk after each stitch, leaving the ends loose, his heart rate slowing and his hands growing steadier with each pass of his needle. When he finished the stitches—eight in all—he set down the needle and silk and tied the ends of each stitch closed with a reef knot. He clipped the ends close to the skin and sat back to examine his work. A row of eight perfectly even stitches ran horizontally across Andrew’s palm. Jacob smiled.

“You done?” Andrew asked.

Jacob started, surprised by the world coming back into focus around him. He blinked a few times and laid his hand on Andrew’s shoulder.

“Nearly. Just need to bandage it.”

He reached into his medical bag and frowned. Dr. Lister’s technique called for applying putty over a wound to keep the carbolic acid from running off or evaporating, but Jacob didn’t have any. When he’d bought the carbolic acid, he hadn’t expected to actually use it. Then again, Dr. Lister’s technique was developed for surgical incisions, much deeper and more profound than the cut on Andrew’s hand. Jacob fished around and pulled out a roll of bandages. He snipped off a small length and folded it into a pad about the same size and shape as the wound. He soaked the pad in the acid and olive oil and laid it overtop the stitches. Then he wound a dry bandage around Andrew’s hand several times.

“That should do it,” he said.

“Thank you,” Eleanor said.

“Yes, thank you,” Andrew echoed. His voice was thin, and Jacob realized just how pale his nephew had turned.

“Any time,” Jacob said. “But you sit there for a few minutes. Blood loss will make you dizzy, and the last thing we need is you passing out and cracking your skull.” He turned to Eleanor. “Make sure he doesn’t budge. I’ll be right back.”

Eleanor nodded, and Jacob slipped out of the office and into the front of the store. After assuring Luo Jun that all was well, he reached under the sales counter and pulled out two brown-paper-wrapped cookies Luo Shu and Grace had made the day before. He held the package to his nose and inhaled. He hated to give up molasses cookies, but Andrew’s need was greater than his.

While Andrew ate the cookies, Jacob instructed Eleanor on how and when to change the bandage, including reapplying the carbolic acid solution.

“I want to see him back here in three days to check it myself,” he said. “I should be able to take the stitches out after a week. I’m afraid you won’t be much good around the ranch until that hand heals.”

Andrew grinned. “That’s all right. I’m sure Frank won’t mind picking up the slack.”

When he was certain Andrew wouldn’t keel over, Jacob walked them to the door of the shop. While Andrew unhitched his team from the rail, Jacob gave Eleanor a small bottle of laudanum with directions for dosing it if Andrew’s hand caused him a lot of pain. Eleanor nodded like a good student but wore a smug smile throughout.

“What?” Jacob asked.

“I’m proud of you. I knew you could do it.”

Heat crept up the back of Jacob’s neck, and he prayed he wasn’t blushing. Trying to look nonchalant, he shrugged. “It was only sutures.”

Eleanor stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “It was so much more than that.”