Chapter 27
Violet wanted to get home.
No more stopping to speak with townsfolk. No more errands.
Just home.
And because the commotion invading her mind and the acid churning in her gut were complete distractions, she failed to notice the man who came up behind her. Not until he knocked her off her feet onto the slippery road and tore her reticule from her wrist was she at all aware of his existence.
Thankfully, her skirts offered some padding but when her knees slammed to the ground, her teeth clamped down and caught the side of her tongue between her molars. The coppery taste of blood filled Violet’s mouth.
The package of coffee fell into the snow when her arms went out to break the fall. Gloves kept her hands from being scraped on the ice. The left palm hit down squarely but the right hand still clutched the Wanted poster, and it did not land well.
Pain shot up her arm in a burst of white-hot agony. She didn’t realize she screamed until she heard it. When she couldn’t swallow, she spat bright red blood onto the snow.
Her fall caused a commotion on the street. Those who saw it pointed and hollered. A few men gave chase, going after the man who had knocked her down.
Violet had noticed the small building with a sign above its front window that read “Gemstones,” but she had never been inside the establishment. She fell directly in front of its door. Had it been summertime and the door propped open, she would have landed almost in the shop itself.
The door opened and a Chinese man hurried to her aid.
“Oh, no! I saw the man who did this—I saw him walk up behind you, but I could not stop him. I am so sorry, missy. So very sorry.” He knelt before her and looked into her eyes. He stared into the right one, then the left, then met her gaze. “You see me good? No problems?”
She opened her mouth to speak but it was filled with blood, so she nodded.
“Here, I help you up. You sit in my shop. We call Doc Coyote.” People had gathered so he spoke to the small crowd. “Someone fetch the doctor, please? For the lady?”
He helped her to her feet.
Violet winced when she tried to move her right arm. It throbbed so relentlessly it felt as if it were being stomped on by a dancing bull. She had never seen a bull dance, but it must feel this way.
“Arm hurt? I saw, you fell hard on the arm.”
She nodded. The blood trickling down her throat made her nauseated. She hoped she wouldn’t embarrass herself by losing the contents of her stomach in this nice man’s shop.
A jumble of brightly colored gemstones scattered across the brown leather blotter on a battered wooden desk that occupied a rear corner of the shop were the only signs of disarray. Two dark wooden chairs flanked a belly stove. A circular rug covered most of the pine floorboards. The tiny shop reminded her of its owner, compact and orderly.
The man helped her sit on one of the chairs. He searched her gaze again and must have liked what he saw because he held a hand up, took a cup from a side table, and went outside. He returned almost instantly with a cup of clean snow.
“Here. You put in mouth to stop bleeding.”
Violet took it with her good hand and tilted a mouthful of snow between her lips. The chill on her tongue dulled the pain. She held the snow in her mouth until it melted. Then, she swallowed.
“More. It will be good to have more.” He smiled encouragingly, motioning with his hand that she should tip the cup into her mouth again. Then he must have realized they hadn’t been introduced because he sat in the other chair and put a hand on his chest. “I am Liu Wei. This is my shop. You are welcome here.”
His foreign mannerisms and unparalleled courtesy gave him such an air of refinement that she felt as if she were in the presence of an elder. Violet guessed he must be in his late twenties. Medium height, slender build, beautiful skin, long black hair tied in a braid, and deep brown eyes made him very appealing. If she were a woman who found herself attracted to men from China, she might have thought him handsome.
She allowed the melted snow to slide down her throat. Wiggling her tongue about a bit, she sighed when she didn’t taste new blood.
Violet took a chance and spoke. “Thank you for helping me. I am Violet Bloom.”
“The schoolteacher. Yes, I know this to be true.”
The pain in her arm made it almost impossible to speak without crying. She pulled the injured limb against her coat, hoping that holding it close would help, but it made things worse.
“Your arm. May I see?” When she raised her eyebrows in response he said, “Doctor may be a while. I have some training in medicine. Maybe I can help.”
When she nodded, he eased her out of her coat. The paper she had torn from the mercantile board was still crumpled in her hand, so she put it in her coat pocket.
The Chinese man pantomimed rolling up a sleeve, so Violet did so.
He reached out and ran a gentle hand over her forearm. When he reached a spot a few inches above her wrist, she gasped.
“As I thought.” He pressed gently. “Sorry to hurt you. I know it is painful. I think you cracked that bone, the one that goes from here—” He touched her wrist with a fingertip. “—to here.” He tapped her elbow with the same fingertip.
“I haven’t broken a bone before. I had no idea how much it hurts.” She hugged her arm to her chest. “Are you sure, Mister Liu?”
He quirked a brow when she addressed him. “I am, yes. In Beijing I had a medical office. I study medicine and I believe you have cracked that arm bone. No worry, though. It will mend. Most bones do heal if we allow them to rest.”
While he spoke, he went to a cabinet at the back of the shop. He rummaged around inside before pulling out a beautiful piece of fabric. He opened it up and began to fold it as he walked over. The material looked expensive. It had a light blue background with deep sapphire, amethyst, and crimson figures embroidered onto the weave.
He held up the stunning piece of needlework. The figures were dragons, flying across the sky-blue background.
“That is beautiful.”
“If you do not mind, I will wrap your arm. Tightly, so it will mend.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t let you do that. I’ve already caused too much trouble—I can never repay you for your kindness.”
He knelt in front of her and placed the folded material on her lap, motioning for her to lay the arm on the fabric. Violet complied, feeling as safe with this man as with the doctor in Charleston she’d known her whole life.
His words touched her heart. “No need to repay. We are humans, all of us, on this earth to serve each other. I help you. Maybe someday you help me. Or if not me, maybe someday you help someone else. It is, like this bandage, the form that holds us together.”
Her arm still pained her, but it did not throb so terribly once he had it wrapped.
The door opened and Doc Sullivan entered the shop. He removed his hat and looked at the scene. Then he smiled. “There you go again, Wei, stealing my patients from me.”
The Chinese man stood and shook his head. “No need to steal this one. She fell right into my shop.”