Red Thunder

~Chapter Three: Part IV~

"It's out. Now we just need to staunch this bleeding enough to stitch you up," I told my patient. There had been so much blood, and I had seen that several major blood vessels inside had been torn, so the wound would need to be stitched to ensure his speedy recovery.

Red Thunder responded with a pained nod against the pillow. Sweat beaded his face, casting it in a coppery sheen. I smiled at him reassuringly, knowing that despite his fortitude, this was not an easy thing to go through in the slightest.

After a few more moments of applying pressure, I took the rag away and peered closely at the hole. I found that thankfully the bleeding had slowed enough for me to work. Wiping the surrounding skin clean with more cotton, I then tossed that and the soiled rag on the floor. There would be plenty of time for clean up later. I reached for the rubbing alcohol again, then hesitated at what I had to do. "This will sting, but try to hold still, okay?" (It would burn like the devil, but I did not want him to know that!)

Red Thunder grunted his assent, hugging the pillow to him tightly. He watched over his shoulder as I poured the alcohol into his wound. Amazingly, my patient didn't cry out, but instead released a deep, suffering moan that drew tears to my eyes. I quickly dabbed at them with my sleeve. Now was not the time to get emotional!

Normally I would not pour alcohol directly into an open wound, especially not one this deep, but he was already beginning to show signs of infection, and I could not let that take hold. Ever. My method was crude, but effective. Hopefully killing ever speck of bacteria he had in there.

The next step required me to light a candle, which I set on the nightstand beside my Indian.

Red Thunder watched closely with unconcealed fascination as I did so.

"It's called a candle," I explained, realizing with surprise that he probably had never seen one before. He did not ask about the matches though. I was glad for him to have a distraction from the pain.

I took out my small suture kit and chose a curved, extra-sharp stitching needle. I held it in the flame to sterilize it, rather than make it slippery with alcohol. I then threaded it with some thin, but very strong, black surgical cord. All the while Red Thunder watched me, his half-lidded, dark gaze sending shivers through my spine, scalp, and a few other more embarrassing places, leaving me hyper-aware and feeling much too warm. For goodness' sake — I needed to get control of myself!

"Alright, my brave warrior, I will do this as fast and painlessly as I can, but you absolutely must keep still!" I stressed.

"I will not move," Red Thunder stated confidently, and with that, turned his head into the pillow once more.

I took a deep, steadying breath. This process always sickened me, and the first time my grandmother had taught me on an injured horse, I had thrown up all over. It was humiliating to say the least. Thankfully, I had never had a repeat of that incident, and I'd become desensitized to the procedure. I had even practiced on the carcasses of the animals Papa brought back from his hunts. Still, it was not the most pleasant part of healing to me.

Placing my left hand around the sides of the hole, I peered inside, noting that all but one of the severed blood vessels had clotted and ceased bleeding. Getting so close to the wound my cheek almost pressed against Red Thunder's back, I grabbed the tweezers once again and used them to gently bring the vessel back together. Using all my concentration, I deftly used my right hand to place a few stitches, tying it back together and stopping the blood flow.

I trimmed off the extra thread and leaned back in the chair, exhaling a huge breath of relief. Closing my eyes, I took several deep, grounding breaths as I prepared for the next part.

Feeling ready, I settled back into position beside Red Thunder and pushed his torn outer flesh together. Stitching a person wasn't so different from repairing clothes and linens. It helped to pretend that was what I was doing. Unfortunately, this part would be more painful than the internal stitches had been.

Slowly, I pushed the needle in and through, completing the first stitch with a gentle pull. I glanced up at Red Thunder lying belly-down on the cot, but he didn't move or utter a single sound, continuing to be a model patient.

I finished the sutures in record time: seven total. Red Thunder didn't make a peep at all throughout the process — it was quite remarkable. Hurriedly tying the ends off, I snipped away the extra thread with my small silver scissors.

Done!

The neat black stitches were in grim contrast with his beautiful coppery skin, but he was no longer bleeding. He would have a scar, but not nearly as nasty a one as it would have been left alone, if he'd survived the blood loss and dodged infection, that is.

Despite his injuries, he was still undeniably, unbelievably handsome. I couldn't help but run a hand appreciatively down the un-injured side of his back, watching the virile muscles quiver at my touch. I would probably need to confess my sinful thoughts and actions to the local priest, but then again — that would mean telling someone about my unusual patient!

Shifting restlessly, Red Thunder asked, "Are you finished?"

I drew away guiltily and stammered, "S-sorry. Um, yes. I just need to, uh, to dress and bandage the wound."

"Alright," he replied tiredly.

I could tell he was getting close to unconsciousness again.I gently applied a soothing yellow salve, made from one of my grandma's old recipes. It was used to fight infection, pain, scarring, and help to heal the skin at a faster pace. With the main ingredient being aloe vera, it did not smell all that good, but I had seen it work wonders on wounds like these.

After I'd slathered on a healthy amount, I cut a clean linen bandage to size and wrapped it over his shoulder and across his back, covering the stitches. I gently pulled the strands of his thick ebony hair out of the binding, subconsciously savoring any excuse to touch him.

When that was done, I took the cap off the water container I'd brought and knelt by my patient's head. "Do you think you can drink some water?" I asked hopefully. Getting fluids back in him would be critical.

Red Thunder looked up at me with bleary, brown/black eyes and nodded, rising up slightly so I could press the rim to his pale lips. I tilted it back slowly and held it steady, helping him take a few swallows of the cool liquid. Some of it ran down his strong neck in thin rivulets, drawing my gaze to his bobbing Adam's apple. I swallowed nervously.

Truly, it was quite ridiculous how attracted I was to him.