His trouser leg was soaked dark from the knee down.
The schoolteacher screamed quietly.
One of the men shouted:
“Wagon overturned by the east cut!”
“Three more out there!”
Jedodiah moved before anyone else.
The conversation disappeared.
He stripped off his fur coat and threw it across a chair.
Underneath he wore dark buckskin and wool.
“Where?”
“Quarter mile.”
“Maybe less.”
“Can't see a damned thing.”
Jedodiah crouched beside the injured man.
“Bone through?”
“No.”
“Bleeding?”
“Some.”
“Get him near the hearth.”
He turned toward Abigail.
“Blankets.”
She stared.
“Now.”
That word moved her.
Matilda did too.
The injured man was shivering uncontrollably.
She hurried toward the kitchen as quickly as her body allowed.
Behind her, somebody said:
“Easy, Matilda.”
She ignored it.
Inside, she poured hot broth into a mug.
Not boiling.
Added salt.
A spoonful of honey.
She returned.
Jedodiah was wrapping the man’s leg with folded cloth.
He looked toward the cup.
“What’s that?”
“Broth.”
“Good.”
He nodded toward the injured man.
“Small sips.”
Matilda knelt carefully beside him.
Her knees screamed.
She ignored them.
The injured man’s lips were nearly blue.
“Drink.”
He shook his head.
“You want to freeze politely?”
His eyes opened.
Matilda held the cup.
“Drink.”