Page 26 of A Groom for Millie
Robert slumped in the chair. Regina put a cup of hot coffee in front of him. “Nice to see you again, young man.”
Robert lifted his head and looked at her. Millie noticed that his eyes were dilated, and she was a little disappointed she couldn’t see the lovely brown color.
“Nice to see you Mrs. Baker,” he slurred.
“Call me Regina,” she said. “We need to get you fixed up.”
Millie hung her wrap back on the peg by the door then walked over to help Robert remove the heavy coat. The uninjured arm came off without issue. Robert hissed as she tugged on the other sleeve.
“Leave me some skin please,” he said.
“It’s sticking to your skin. I’ll need to wet it down to loosen the fabric.”
Millie filled a mason jar with water and gently poured it over his shoulder inching the fabric down as she went. The heavy wool was completely saturated with blood and it was sticking to his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Millie said softly. She peeled back the rest of the coat and saw his bloody shirt. There was a hole in the shirt where the bullet had gone through. She gently leaned him forward so she could examine the back of the shirt. There was no secondary wound, which meant the bullet was still lodged in his shoulder. “I only see one hole.”
“That’s because it was a flintlock. Only one lead ball.”
“Momma, pass me the bowl and rag. I need to get this cleaned up.”
“You’ll need to remove his shirt.”
Millie bit her bottom lip. “I know.” She hadn’t seen a man’s body apart from her husband’s. And even then, it was in the dark with the covers over them.
“If you aren’t alright to do this, I’m sure I can manage, and you can go get your midwife.”
Robert reached out and grabbed Millie’s arm with his good hand. “No doctors. Please.”
“No doctors,” Millie repeated. “It might be easier for me to cut the shirt off.” She went to the drawer and found a pair of scissors. Her hand hesitated as she pulled the linen shirt from his back and started to cut down the middle.
“Is that papa?” a little voice asked.
Millie nearly dropped the scissors. It wouldn’t do to have a stab wound in addition to the gunshot wound.
“No, Mary Rose. Let’s go get you dressed,” Regina said, leading the child to her bedroom. She sent a glance over her shoulder and then disappeared behind the door.
“Is that your daughter?”
“Yes.”
“She’s beautiful. Just like her mother.”
Millie slid the scissors down the rest of the fabric, revealing a back rippled with muscles.
“Th-thank you.” She quickly cut around the sleeve at the elbow and removed the fabric away from the wound.
“I’m so tired.”
“Don’t fall asleep.” Millie was afraid he might perish and then she’d have to explain why a dead outlaw was sitting at her table. She stood up and scooped water from the pot Regina had set on the stove. It wasn’t too hot, so it wouldn’t burn his skin.
Grabbing a rag, she placed it in the bowl, dunking it in the water several times. Squeezing out the excess water so the rag was soaked, but not dripping, she pressed the rag to the fabric sticking to Robert’s shoulder. His head drifted forward, and he fell back into the chair.
“Robert? Robert?” Millie watched his back to see if he was breathing. She could see the rise and fall with each breath. Releasing a breath of her own, she rinsed the rag and then continued to tend the wound. When the last bit of fabric was wet enough, she peeled it back revealing a puckered wound about half an inch wide on his shoulder.
Soon Regina and Mary Rose appeared. Her daughter was dressed, and she walked to the table to look at the man. “Who is this, momma?”
“He’s a friend that was hurt. We are helping him.”
