Page 26 of In Honor’s Defense

“This the Baxter place?” the driver called out as he reined in the team of chestnuts.

Damaris ran down to meet him. “Yes. Are you Dr. Hanger?”

The man shook his head as he set the brake. “Nope. But she is.” He tipped his head in the direction of the woman beside him. The very pregnant woman.

Good heavens.

The woman rose from her seat, a black bag clutched in her right hand. “Where’s Preach?” she asked as her escort jumped down, then turned to assist her.

Damaris blinked, confused that the woman wanted to know the whereabouts of the nearest clergyman, until her sleep-deprived brain caught up and recalled the nickname Luke had her use in the telegram. “Mr. Davenport’s inside. I’ll show you.”

It seemed beyond strange for a woman mere weeks from giving birth to be the doctor Luke would send for, but if he trusted her, so would Damaris.

Nathaniel shot her a questioning look as she led the newcomers into the house, but for once he kept his opinions to himself. No doubt he was as desperate as she was for someone with actual medical training to take over Luke’s care. If that someone didn’t fit their preconceived notions, their notions would simply have to adjust.

Damaris strode down the short hall and turned into the front bedchamber. As much as she longed to hurry to Luke’s side, she left the path clear for the doctor. As heavy with child as she was, Dr. Hanger still moved with a sense of purpose and efficiency, commanding the room like a conductor commanded his orchestra.

She set her black bag on the chair where Damaris had kept vigil, then started unbuttoning her travel jacket. “I’ll need hot water, fresh bandages, and a tray for my instruments.”

“I’ll fetch ’em.” Nathaniel darted back into the hall and took off for the kitchen.

Dr. Hanger tossed her jacket over the back of the chair, then moved to the washstand in the corner, rolling her sleeves as she went. Her companion, on the other hand, moved toward the bed and dropped to one knee as he slowly pulled his hat from his head.

“Ah, Preach. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Horsemen stand together when danger calls. You should’ve sent for me.” He touched Luke’s shoulder, and Damaris swore she could feel the bond between them even from six feet away.

Dr. Hanger’s face softened as her gaze turned from the soap and water on her hands to watch the men. “My husband and Preach are very close,” she murmured softly. “Out of all the Horsemen, they have been together the longest.” The sentiment softening her green eyes sharpened into pointed determination as she resumed scrubbing her hands and arms with vigorous strokes. “Tell me everything,” she said. “The wounds. Your treatment. His response. Leave nothing out.”

“He was stabbed three times. Once in his right side, once in the back of his right leg, and once across his left forearm.” As Damaris ran through the injuries she’d cataloged, Dr. Hanger dried her hands and crossed to the bed to begin her examination.

Her husband stood as she approached and placed a hand at the small of her back. They shared a private look that overflowed with concern for their friend while at the same time establishing a silent promise of partnership. He would do whatever she needed, and she would lean on his strength. Damaris felt herself slide back into the realm of invisibility as they communicated without words.

Once the charged moment passed, Dr. Hanger glanced back at her. “Continue.”

“There was a shallow cut at the base of his throat, but it didn’t bleed overmuch, so I didn’t stitch it.”

The doctor had just bent over her medical bag, but at Damaris’s words, she looked up sharply. “You stitched the others?”

Had that been a mistake? Damaris clutched the sides of her skirt, wrinkling the fabric in her effort to hide the shaking in her hands. “Y-yes. He asked me to. He’d lost a lot of blood.” Her mouth went dry, and she took a minute to work up some moisture before she continued her confession. “I found a recipe for a poultice of onions, garlic, and honey recommended for treating wounds, so I dabbed it over the stitches before applying the bandages. I hope that wasn’t wrong.”

The woman with the bright green eyes nodded. “Actually, I’d say you did quite well, Miss Baxter. Onions, garlic, and honey are all known to reduce the risk of infection. They seem to combat inflammation as well, which aids the healing process.”

Damaris’s grip on her skirt loosened as she let out a breath. “Oh, good.” Thank the Lord she hadn’t done anything to worsen his condition. “I’ve been waking him every few hours, checking for fever and urging him to drink some water. He hasn’t shown signs of fever yet, but he is very weak. He doesn’t stay awake for more than a quarter hour or so at a time. I’m sure he’s in a lot of pain. He winces every time he moves his head, and the last time I changed his bandages, I noticed significant bruising coming to the surface around his middle. There’s a good chance there’s damage inside.”

The idea of hidden damage scared her the most. What might he be suffering from that she hadn’t been able to see? Hadn’t been able to treat? Thank heavens Dr. Hanger was here. She’d know what to do. Damaris bit her lip as Mr. Hanger pushed to his feet and moved out of his wife’s way.

Please let her know what to do.

“Help me take what’s left of his shirt off of him.”

Mr. Hanger murmured agreement, moved up toward Luke’s head, and lifted his shoulders off the bed. The jostling woke the patient.

“Damaris?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could say anything, the doctor responded.

“It’s Jo, Preach. Matthew and I are here. We’re going to get you patched up.”

“Captain?” Luke struggled to open his eyes.