A Dream Unfolding (50 page)

“What’s your name?” she said in a calming voice to the injured man.

“Jensen, ma’am.”

“Well, Jensen, we will have you fixed up shortly.”

Looking around for someone to help, Hannah’s eyes landed on Mr.
Colter
.
 
Looking directly into his eyes, she asked, “Would you place your hand here to help with the bleeding, while I go get a few supplies?”

When he failed to move, she took his hands and placed them over the wound.
 
Turning on her heel, she hurried back to her room.
 
Opening her trunk, she dug around for Drew’s medical tools—the few she kept—and some laudanum.
 
Grabbing a ribbon from her dresser, she ran back into the dining hall.

As she leaned forward to study the man’s injuries, her long loose hair fell over her shoulder.
 
Feeling a little scattered, she secured her hair with the ribbon, despite her shaky hands.

By now, Betty arrived with a stack of towels and bandages of every kind.
 
Mr.
Colter
still stood over Jensen, pressing his hands against the wound.
 
His eyes connected with Hannah’s, his kind look giving her courage.
 
She nodded, instructing Mr.
Colter
to move aside as Betty handed her several bandages.
 
She placed the bandages over the wound to soak up some of the blood, as she had done dozens of times at Drew’s side.

A moment of fear and self-doubt threatened.
 
She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
 
She could do this.

Betty whispered near her ear, “I already sent one of the soldiers for Doc Murphy.”

Relived by the news, Hannah knew she would not have too long to wait for help.

Jensen groaned.
 
When she looked at him, he seemed frightened.
 
“You’ll be just fine,” she encouraged.

As Betty tied a tourniquet above the wound, Hannah poured a dose of the laudanum.
 
Lifting it to his lips, she said, “This should help with the pain.”
 
He swallowed.

Removing the first set of bandages, Hannah took a clean one to mop up more of the blood.
 
Studying the injury carefully, she looked for the corresponding exit wound.
 
Only finding the entry wound, she assumed the bullet must still be lodged in Jensen’s leg.

Looking through Drew’s instruments, she failed to find a scalpel.
 
She would need something sharp to cut open the wound in order to fish out the bullet.

“I need a knife,” she said and several were proffered.
 
She took the one from Mr.
Colter
, testing the blade to make sure it was good and sharp.
 
It was—as she expected from the experienced rancher.

“Mr.
Colter
, Mr. Boggs, please hold Jensen down.”
 
Turning her attention to the young man writhing in pain she said, “I need to get the bullet out and to do that, I will have to cut near the wound.
 
This is going to hurt.”

He nodded, though his eyes started to gloss over, and she began.
 
When Jensen jerked away, she glared at Mr.
Colter
.
 
Voice still calm she said, “I need him still.”

Mr.
Colter
tightened his hold as she carefully made the cut with the large awkward knife.
 
Having Betty assist, she was able to quickly locate and extract the bullet.
 
She poured some whiskey over the wound to clean it.
 
Either the pain intensified or the laudanum started working, for Jensen passed out.
 
She adeptly threaded a needle and stitched up his leg as best she could.
 
Then she wrapped the leg in bandages.

“Let’s get him to one of the bunks to rest,” Betty suggested.

Mr.
Colter
and Mr. Boggs, carried the young man the short distance to the Mother Lode, followed by Hannah and Betty.
 
One of the miners cleared his things off his bunk, offering it up for the injured man.
 
Betty stayed with Jensen and shooed Hannah and the rest of the men out of the room.
 
Having no other place to go, many went back into the dining hall.

Hannah started cleaning up the dining table turned surgery.
 
Even though there seemed to be a large amount of blood staining her hands and apron, she was certain Jensen would survive.
 
She had seen men recover fully from worse.
 

Scrubbing the table with vigor, the reality of what she had just done set in.
 
She just cut open a man’s leg and removed a bullet!
 
Feeling light-headed and queasy, she started to make her way out back.
 
As she crossed the threshold from kitchen to grassy lawn, her legs buckled beneath her.
 
Strong arms clasped her waist keeping her from falling to the ground.
 
She felt herself being eased to the bench where she sat just moments ago in silence with the Lord.
 
Her head still swam, so she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cabin wall.
 
With the first deep breath through her nostrils, she smelled a light scent of horse and man.
 
The second breath added pine to the mix. A gentle hand held hers, giving her strength.
 
As she opened her eyes, Will
Colter
stood before her, keeping her steady.

As the events of the morning hit her full force, she felt the bile rise to her throat.
 
Twisting her torso to the side of the bench, she leaned over and retched.
 
With unsteady hands, she found a non-blood-stained corner of her apron and wiped her mouth.
 
Taking deep breaths she managed to recover.
 
Mr.
Colter
handed her a cup of water, which she sipped slowly until it was gone.

“You did good,” Mr.
Colter
said with an encouraging smile.
 
“Without your quick action, that young man might have died.”

Hannah nodded numbly as her nerves began to settle.

“How did you know what to do?”

“I assisted my husband many times with similar wounds.
 
This was the first time I’ve done that on my own.”
 
She managed a half smile.

Standing, Mr.
Colter
offered her his arm for support, leading her back to the kitchen.
 
The fragrance of frying bacon filled the air, causing her stomach to flutter.
 
Entering the dining hall she saw it had been set to rights.
 
Men stood slowly removing their hats or placing one hand over their hearts.
 
The admiration in their eyes was clear and Hannah was humbled.

Dr. Murphy arrived with several mounted cavalry men.
 
Hannah directed him to the patient and stood by while he conducted an examination.
 
He was obviously impressed with how well she took care of the young man, because he praised her efforts several times.
 
Another group arrived from the fort with a wagon to transport Jensen back.
 
Since he was still out cold, they decided it would be best to leave in short order.

It wasn’t until after they left that she noticed Martha Murphy.
 

“You look exhausted,” Martha said.
 
“Don’t worry about fixing breakfast for these men.
 
Betty and I will take care of it.
 
I’ll be here to help all day, so you lie down and rest for awhile.”

Hannah quickly complied, her energy drained.

Will still thought about the events of the morning as he sat down for supper in the dining hall.
 
The image of Mrs. Anderson sitting on the bench, Bible in hand, kept coming to his mind.
 
She seemed at peace this morning in that private moment.
 
Private.
 
That is what it should have been—not with him looking on.

Then, she transformed into this confident skilled woman, removing the bullet from a young man’s leg.
 
How could he be anything but impressed with this woman?

As if thoughts of her could conjure her presence, she entered the dining hall.
 
Mrs. Anderson missed the morning meal, but made an appearance at dinner earlier in the day.
 
Now here she was, looking beautiful as ever, filling up coffee mugs for the supper hour.
 
Her color returned and she looked more refreshed as the day went on.
 
He smiled as she filled his mug.

When she moved to the next patron, Will turned his attention to the conversations around him.
 
The town meeting was scheduled for this evening.
 
Speculation abounded.
 
Excitement mounted as the men looked forward to what Bob Groom and the town leaders would say.

Shortly before seven, Will arrived at Don Manuel’s store, the site selected for the town meeting.
 
They squeezed together to make room for as many men as possible.
 
Bob Groom led the meeting.
 
After a few cursory comments, he announced the leaders selected a name for the new town.
 
Prescott was the name chosen in honor of the famous historian and writer.
 
He also confirmed the rumors that Prescott was now the official capital selected by the governor.
 
A large round of applause followed.

When the crowd quieted, Van Smith joined Bob in the front.
 
They recently completed a survey of the town site, mapping out lots which would be auctioned on the fifth of June.
 
These two men would act as the land agents for the town and supervise the collection of funds from the auction.
 
The money would be used for the town.

The townsmen were pleased with the information from the meeting.
 
Many were already discussing which lots they would bid on.
 
Being chosen as the capital meant the town would grow at a rapid pace.
 
Following the meeting, the boardinghouse dining hall was open for refreshments and dessert.
 
Many of meeting attendees lingered over the apple pie discussing the events of the day and plans for the future.

Will’s mind kept drifting back to Mrs. Anderson.
 
After eleven, Paul came around asking the men to move out so they could close and clean the dining hall.
 
Will lingered a little longer and was just about to be the last out the door, when Mrs. Anderson’s voice halted him.
 
He turned toward the sound, smile stretching across his face.

“Wait,” she said.
 
“Yesterday you said something about God directing you to the Arizona Territory.
 
What did you mean?”

That certainly was not what Will expected.
 
“That is not a quickly answered question, ma’am.
 
Perhaps best left for another day.”

“Do you believe God has plans for us?”

His heart slammed into his chest at her wording.
 
She could not possibly mean “us” as in him and her.
 
The thought warmed him and he felt his lips curl in a half smile.

“Yes, I do,” he replied.
 
Let her interpret that however she might, he thought, as he walked the short distance back to the bunkhouse.