The Wall Lake Mystery

Chapter 24: Two Gunshots

"I am sound," Holmes replied.

"Not hurt," said Reagan.

"Thank God for that, at least," I replied. Two men were plenty to heal in one night. I turned to Holmes. "Did you think he'd jump out of that window?"

"I thought it probable," said Holmes, "but I knew you would not allow him to go far."

Breath came at too high a cost to answer, and even had it not, I knew not what to say.

We hurried over the hill and the house immediately to our left was brightly illuminated from within. A young woman stood on the porch, a wailing infant in her arms.

"One of you is a doctor?" she asked.

"I am," I replied.

"Mrs. McCarthy," she said. "Come in, my husband and my brother are clearing a space for you."

We followed her inside, where the Sheriff lay on a cot and two men were laying Wright down on what appeared to be a kitchen table with a bed sheet or two over it. The one man I realised was O'Brien, the man from the train station. The other was Mr. McCarthy. Both injured men had fallen unconscious. Whether that was a blessing or a curse remained to be seen.

"Cut off Wright's pant-leg and try to staunch the bleeding," I said to O'Brien. "McCarthy, get me some hot water."

"Will he be all right?" asked Reagan. "The Sheriff, I mean."

"He is not a young man," I replied, cutting through the Sheriff's overcoat. "But with a little luck and no infection, he will pull through. The faster I remove the bullet, the better."

Holmes touched the young Marshall on the arm. "Come. Let us leave the Doctor for a while."

It was going to be a long night.

After gently wiping the blood away, I could see that the bullet in the Sheriff's arm had struck the ulna four inches from his wrist. The bone was fractured, but the break was clean and set with little difficulty. Though the Sheriff awoke while I was working, McCarthy and O'Brien held him down for me and I managed to extract the bullet. I checked for signs of internal bleeding, stitched the wound closed, and wrapped his arm tightly.

I turned my attention to Wright. The bullet that struck his leg had passed nearly through it, tearing muscle and fat behind his shin, halfway between his knee and ankle. After removing the bullet, all I could do was clean, stitch, and wrap it and hope for the best. He would have to walk with a crutch or aid of some sort until it healed.

It was nearly half-past two in the morning when I had done all I could do. O'Brien and McCarthy assured me they could take it in shifts to watch over the men, ensuring they did not worsen and Wright did not attempt to escape. I thanked them, washed the blood from my hands, and left the kitchen.

I had made up my mind to lie down in a corner of the sitting room to sleep, but when I entered the room, Holmes and Reagan were there speaking with Mrs. McCarthy, whose baby was either still crying or was crying again. Six other men and another woman were there. Old Man Martin and Roger from the train station I recognised, but the others I did not know. It appeared that in my absence, the McCarthy's tiny sitting room had become the setting for a late night town hall meeting, attended by a number of frightened and confused neighbours.

They fell silent when I entered.

"How are they both?" asked Reagan.

"It's too early to say for certain," I replied, "but they should both be fine in a few months, the Sheriff a few more than Wright."

A wave of exhaustion passed over me and I realised I had been on my feet since early afternoon with no food since a light lunch, which now seemed an age away.

"Watson?"

I glanced to Holmes. He appeared uncharacteristically concerned.

"Yes?" I replied.

"You look unwell, my friend." He turned to Mrs. McCarthy. "Have you an extra bed where the good doctor could rest himself?"

"Just point me to a nice bit of floor," I broke in.

"Of course," said Mrs. McCarthy. Still cradling her infant, she led me to a little bedroom at the back of the house.

"Thank you so much for your kindness and hospitality," I said. "And to your husband as well. I truly appreciate it."

"No trouble," she said. "We are happy to help, especially for the Sheriff." The baby wailed loudly.

"Quite a pair of lungs on your little one," I said with a smile.

"Yes," replied Mrs. McCarthy. "Lucy's a little colicky, and she's been keeping us up at all hours for nearly two months now."

"I'll take this corner," I said. "Feel free to send Holmes and Reagan and anybody else in here; I'll be asleep as soon as I lie down."

Unfortunately, the aching of my chest kept me from falling asleep as quickly as I'd hoped. I turned over once or twice, then decided to have a look at my chest. I drew closer to the fire and pulled up my shirt. I checked for broken bones. There were none, but I was pretty well bruised; parts of my skin were turning interesting shades of blue and green.

"Good heavens!" came Holmes voice from behind me.

I started and quickly pulled my shirt back down. "Just bruises. I'll be fine."

"Take the bed, at least, you old fool," he said.

"Does anyone else need it?" I asked.

"You need it," said Holmes. "Get some rest; I believe we have a long day ahead of us."

"We always have a long day ahead of us," I groaned, climbing into the bed. It did hurt less than the floor.

Holmes did not answer, or if he did, I was asleep before I could hear it.