The Iron Alchemist

Chapter 4

The hospital was in the heart of Lone Creek. Once used to house the Pioneer garrison during the War of Nations, it was turned to serve the sick. An old, tan structure, the oldest in the city, with many levels and rooms, and more windows than Old Willie Aimswell had guns in his gun shop. But not by much, which said enough about Old Willie.

"How much longer?" Boone mumbled and winced

He rested on a bed in a dreary room, with little light, and red and silver wallpaper. Beside him, the doctor moved hand over hand, slinging a bandage around his arm while the wooden shards sat in two pieces in the trash. Boone grunted. The pain was near unbearable; a throbbing, sharp-shooting pain that ran from his wrist to his elbow. He kept stone faced trying to conceal his discomfort.

"That about does it," said Doc Davison, though everybody in town called him Doctor "loose tongue" Davison. Boone didn't understand why. His tongue seemed very much intact to him. He was a young man, cleanly shaved, glistening as his sterile tools. And was kind eyed and sure lipped. With short, thick black hair and chin-length sideburns, dressed in a black-tailed coat and black trousers. He tied the bandages down. "You're one tough, Kid."

"Indeed." Ma Jean said with a twinkle in her eye. Her smile was warm as fresh honey and Boone gave her a faint smile in return. He didn't want her to worry nor think less of him. She was the kindest person he knew. A little person with a big heart. Old as the willow behind their cottage though appeared nothing of the sort. No wrinkles but skin smooth, pale, and glowy as cream. There was not a cruel bone in her brittle body. Only kindness and love that emanated off of her like a lavish fragrance. She wore a flowing white ruffled dress that matched her white ruffled bonnet, tied to her chin, partially allowing her gray curls to hang freely.

"The Rigger's are born hard as bricks," Jerocobosh spoke, swaying beside her in an oak rocking chair, puffing on his pipe, filling the room with the smell of sweet cherry tobacco.

"So I've heard," Doc replied lightly, hearing it from Boone's mouth more than once on this day, "and I believe it."

Boone let out a pathetic laugh as he fought back tears. Uncertain if they were tears of joy or pain. Likely pain. He winced again and closed his eyes, the hurt will pass soon, he told himself, unconvinced.

The Doc must've seen his discomfort. "Thankfully it went clean through with minimal damage."

Minimal? Boone thought. He'd wondered what severe damage would've looked like. His arm severed off, maybe.

"No broken bones and light bleeding. You were lucky this time," He laughed absurdly, "Any higher and your veins would've bled dry. " Boone felt his stomach turn and a sudden urge to vomit through that didn't stop Doctor "loose tongue's" loose tongue. His tone grew serious, "Can't say the same for Mr. O'hare...Heard the tower stuck his legs and chopped them clean off. A cripple he'll become."