Her dark raven hair had fallen out of it’s meticulous placement on top of her head as she scrambled around the linen closet looking for the medical supplies she knew were there somewhere. She cursed very unladylike as she searched, dismissing Aunt Ruby’s stern voice who’s warning against cursing was floating through her mind, "Remember darling, ladies always use proper language." Who cared about that when she had an emergency on her hands, she wondered as she rummaged some more through the closet?
"Aha! Found it!" She cried as she grabbed a couple of her extra bed sheets, towels, and a bottle of iodine from the closet. On her way out the door she grabbed the bucket of water she had been carrying into the house when he had appeared on her property.
He had been a soldier limping towards her house. If he had been healthy she would have sworn that he was past six feet, and that the locks of hair peeking out from under his cap that framed his face just so was a brilliant golden sun-bleached blonde. She should have ran at the sight of him, for that grey uniform meant he was a part of the enemy. The damned South. The South had already claimed the life of her father, and had taken her brother hostage. But who was she to turn away a man in pain? He could barely walk with blood gushing from his leg, he obviously needed help, and she seriously doubted that hurting her was on his agenda when he could barely stand.
So she offered help. She had ran to him and let him prop himself against her as they both trekked to her house. He didn’t say much except an accented "thank you." He was in too much pain to say much of anything else or to refuse help when it came so readily to him. For he knew he was in enemy territory and help shouldn’t come so easily.
She helped him up the steps of the porch and into the house. She then steered him to the downstairs guest bedroom and helped him lay down on the bed. He muttered something unintelligible as he hoisted his lame leg onto the bed. She had been afraid that he would fall asleep and she wouldn’t be able to wake him up so she instructed him to recite the ABCs. He looked at her with mesmerizing blue eyes. She would have gotten lost in them if they weren’t telling her that she was absolutely crazy.
"My ABCs?" The soldier asked.
"Yes so I know you’re still awake while I go get something to take care of that gunshot wound."
"I won’t fall asleep."
"Excuse me sir, but you about fell asleep on me walking here. If I hadn’t nudged
you with my elbow you’d be on the grass out there. Just start saying those ABCs Mister." She shot him a look that said he better do it.
She scurried off as he started saying the ABCs, apparently not in the mood to argue with her anymore.
Now she stood over him looking at his leg as he was still reciting the ABCs, but his voice was getting lower and lower; he was slipping away from her. She had to work fast. She took her sewing scissors and cut the material of his uniform from his leg and started ripping up the bed sheets to as she used them to apply pressure to his leg to stop the bleeding that had started back up. Once she had gotten the bleeding to stop she started washing the wound with water, causing him to wince. She added some iodine to the wound causing him to wince even more. Then she started to wish her Aunt Ruby was here to help her as she looked to see if extracting the bullet from his leg was at all possible.
Her patient had fallen into a deep sleep long before she was done operating on him. She had managed to remove the bullet; thankful for all the days she had watched her father in the operating room when she was growing up. The knowledge had finally come in handy. The soldier was breathing and had a pulse, so at least he was alive, but he had a fever. She hoped infection wasn’t setting in. The woman had made sure that all instruments used on him had been cleaned, like her father had always done, but that didn’t mean that infection wouldn’t set in. She did her best to make sure the wound was clean and bandaged. The woman put a cool rag to the soldier’s fore head and wrists and lit a candle to put in the room as she sat for his vigil.
Watching the soldier sleep she began to get curious about this stranger in her house. She knew it wasn’t right, but she searched through the pockets of his grey coat, of which she had stripped him of earlier so his breathing wouldn’t be so constricted. Inside a pocket she found a well-worn letter addressed to Jasper and signed Mum. It was a bunch of outpourings of love from a mother to a son that touched her heart. This man had a family and a whole other life from this war. This Jasper was going to see his Mum again if she had anything to say about it. Even if he was Reb.