The bundle held what remained of her medicines after the robbery, a clay pot with a sealed lid, some dried leaves wrapped in paper, a bone awl for lancing. She named each remaining thing and what it was for. Dried willow bark for inflammation, yarrow for wounds, osha root for lung sickness, a compressed prickly pear cake that made a drawing poultice for burns and deep bruises. "Brew the willow bark in water and let the horse drink it and keep Copper off hard rock terrain for a few days. The inflammation was in the knee joint. " She laid it out with the flat precision of someone explaining the function of a tool, not performing expertise, just stating what was true.
"Didn't know Apache healers worked on livestock. " "A body is a body. " She resealed the bundle with the same careful attention she'd used opening it. The principles don't change because the patient has four legs instead of two. He watched how she handled the medicines, deliberate, unhurried, aware that carelessness had cost her things she couldn't afford to lose twice. It was the economy of someone who had learned that replacement was not always possible. He had a shoulder that had been giving him trouble for 3 years.
He didn't know why he mentioned it right then. He wasn't a man who talked about physical discomfort. There had been no one to tell about it, and complaining in a vacuum had always seemed pointless. But it came out somewhere in the middle of watching her, and once it was out, he didn't try to take it back. "Show me where. " She said simply.
He put his hand on the spot, right shoulder, deep in the joint, the kind of ache that flared in cold weather and made him careful about reaching for things above his head. She pressed along the shoulder in three precise points in sequence, then asked him to raise his arm as high as it would go. He got it to about shoulder height before it locked. "This was broken. " "Thrown from a horse 8 years back. " "Thought it'd set right. " "It healed wrong. The joint sits crooked. " She felt along the line of the shoulder blade.
"I cannot correct what is already set. " "But the tightness here. " She found the exact point, and he made an involuntary sound. "This I can work on. " "Over several days. " "I'm not an invalid. " She straightened up and looked at him with an expression that was thoroughly unconcerned about his pride. "I didn't say you were. " "Come inside in an hour. I'll heat water. " She worked on his shoulder that evening by the fireplace for about 40 minutes, using heat and slow pressure and controlled stretching that hurt in a steady building way, and then, unpredictably, began to ease. Her hands were strong and precise.
She worked without speaking, which suited Mat this fine. When she was done, he could raise his arm 2 in higher than before. You'll need this every other day for a while if you wanted to keep improving. He looked at her. One night became one week.
She moved the pot of warm water off the fire. I know that. I'm not complaining. Neither am I. She set the pot on its hook.