Nathaniel shook his head and growled. “You.” He pointed at Kitty. “Get over here and help me.”
Thomas moved out of the way, then turned his face to the wall, running his trembling hands over his hair. “Is she dying?”
No answer. Nathaniel instructed Kitty when to lift Eliza, when to lay her down, and how to help him tie the bandages.
“Nathaniel! Answer me!”
“Thomas, she needs a shirt. Now.” Nathaniel’s voice remained calm but acute.
Thomas flew to the dresser, careful to keep his gaze away from the bed, and yanked out one of his own. Keeping his gaze to the floor, Thomas held the shirt to Nathaniel.
Nathaniel snatched it from his hand. “I wish you wouldn’t worry about propriety at a time like this.”
Thomas ignored him and continued staring at the back of the room, biting the inside of his cheek and praying.
“She’s decent, Thomas. You can turn around now.”
Thomas spun on his heel, holding his breath.
Eliza wore his shirt and a blanket covered her lower half. Her hair remained disheveled and her sweet face looked gray. Blood still covered her chest and neck.
“I’m still waiting for an answer, Nathaniel. Is she dying?”
“I don’t know!” Nathaniel shot back, holding Eliza’s wrist between his fingers. “Only time will tell us that. Though I will tell you it could have been a lot worse. It appears that the knife missed her vital organs, otherwise there would be no hope for her at all.”
Thomas remained at the end of the bed, staring at the painful sight before him. He turned toward Kitty who stood near the table in the corner, her bloodstained hands covering her face as she cried.
“Nathaniel, that wound was deep. Why didn’t you stitch it?”
“I could have, but I chose not to. Stitches can sometimes make such injuries worse. As it is you’ll have to monitor her wound carefully, and often.” Nathaniel wiped his red hands on another cloth. “It’s better to leave it as it is.”
“Tell me what to do.” Thomas’s voice shook when he spoke. All attempts to remain composed failed.
“Try to stop the bleeding. It’s not flowing as forcefully as it was, from the looks of things, but she is by no means out of danger. She cannot afford to lose any more blood.”
Nathaniel rose, his mouth tight.
“What is it? Tell me!” Thomas yanked on his arm.
Nathaniel glanced at him, his eyes holding a critical edge. “She needs our prayers.”
He walked away from the bed and lowered his voice. “I shouldn’t give you false hope. I can’t pretend that her situation isn’t very grave. These types of wounds don’t . . . they don’t . . .”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Thomas knew exactly what he meant. The news came as little surprise, but it still made his knees buckle.
Nathaniel continued, staring at Eliza. “If she develops a fever, or the wound begins to look gangrenous, call for me at once. If she—I mean, when she wakes up, keep her in bed as long as you can. Try to give her broths and other fluids to keep her strength up. Change the dressings as often as necessary.”
Thomas blinked and nodded in response, trying to keep the whirlwind of emotions from stealing the last bit of strength from his limbs.
With a gentle squeeze to Thomas’s shoulder, Nathaniel softened his words. “You did your best, Thomas. It’s not your fault.”
Thomas clenched his teeth and exhaled loudly. “They tried to have their way with her.”
Nathaniel growled low. “Did they succeed?”
Running both his hands over his head, Thomas peered at Kitty before answering. The poor girl looked tortured, her entire body shivering.
“I don’t know, though I feel certain they didn’t. But the fact that they tried, that they were so close . . .” He blinked his burning eyes. “If I’d have been there this never would have happened.” He breathed harder at the memory of those men on top of her. Killing that man didn’t seem like a harsh enough punishment.