His face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead. Margaret gently examined his arm, feeling the unnatural angle of the bone. It's broken, but cleanly, she announced, "I can set it, but I'll need help. " "You know how? " Tom asked through gritted teeth.
"My husband was a physician. I've assisted him many times. " She turned to the other men. "I need straight boards for splints, clean cloth for bandages, and someone to hold him steady. Jake appeared in the doorway, took in the scene with a glance, and began issuing orders.
Within minutes, Margaret had everything she needed. Jake positioned himself behind Tom, holding the young man's shoulders. "This will hurt, " Margaret warned. "But it'll hurt worse if we leave it. " "Just do it, ma'am, " Tom managed.
Margaret felt along the break once more. Then, with a quick, sure movement, pulled and aligned the bones. Tom's yell could probably be heard in the next county, but the arm was straight. She splinted it carefully, wrapping it with torn strips of clean petticoat, the last of her Philadelphia finery put to practical use. There, she said, tying off the bandage.
Keep it still for 6 weeks. I'll make a sling. Thank you, ma'am, " Tom said weakly. "Thought I'd have to ride all the way to town. " "You'd have been lucky to make it halfway, " Jake said.
He looked at Margaret with something like respect. "Where did a Philadelphia lady learn to set bones? " "When you're married to a doctor who drinks, Mr. Caldwell, you learn to handle things when his hands aren't steady enough. " The admission slipped out before she could stop it. Silence fell over the kitchen.
Margaret busied herself making a sling from a dish towel, her cheeks burning. She'd never spoken of Charles's weakness to anyone. "Well, " Jake said finally. "We're grateful for the skill. Whatever brought it, the men filed out, supporting Tom between them.
" Jake lingered, watching as Margaret returned to her bread dough with shaking hands. "Your husband, " he said quietly. "Is that what broke you? The drinking? " Margaret's hand stilled.
No, I could forgive the drinking. It was a weakness, but he was a good man despite it. What broke me was discovering he'd been hiding our debts for years, borrowing against future earnings, selling my jewelry, and replacing it with paste. He didn't want me to worry, he said in his final letter. She laughed bitterly.
Instead, he left me to face the creditors alone. He killed himself. Laudanum overdose, possibly accidental. He'd been taking it for pain. I choose to believe it was.