Chapter Thirty-One

 

 

"Appendicitis."

 

"Sure?"

 

"Sure as can be. All the symptoms. Main thing is precisely where the pain's located. I can't think of anything else it could be."

 

Ryan whistled softly between his teeth. "Bad one. Known of a few people buy the farm with that."

 

Mildred was washing her hands. "But remember I'm not a general surgeon, Ryan. Freezing was my field, and I was real good at that. I did stuff like this when I was a student and then a junior resident. Long while ago. And I don't just mean the hundred years passed since skydark."

 

"So what can you do?" Krysty asked. All five friends were standing in the dimly lit corridor, outside the room where Doc had been sedated with a few drugs that were held in the ville's pharmacy.

 

"Infected and inflamed appendix means two things. It'll go down and get better, but maybe flare up again in a while. Days or weeks or months. Or never. Or it won't go down at all. Burst. Peritonitis and death."

 

They all stood silent. Since they'd gotten back to the fortified mansion they'd seen no sign of either the countess or of Straub. The sec men had been helpful, carrying Doc up to the room and showing Mildred the limited supplies of pharmaceuticals that were held in the ville.

 

Now it was decision time.

 

"How long wait?" Jak asked.

 

"Until it's too late?" Mildred sniffed. "I'm sort of sure it's bad news. Lot of pain. Fever. Intense, localized tenderness. If I'm going to try and operate to save the old buzzard, then I think I'll have to start within the hour. No longer."

 

"Someone should see the countess," Krysty said. "Tell her what's going on. Need her support. I can go." She looked doubtfully at Ryan.

 

"Better be me." He checked his chron. "Rest of you work with the sec men and get everything ready. See what tools and knives and stuff you can get, Mildred. Mebbe from the kitchens for the best blades. I'll go see the countess."

 

 

 

"HE WILL DIE if you don't operate on him?"

 

"We believe so."

 

"And the black woman is a real doctor?"

 

"Yeah. Just that we need your say-so to go ahead with it. Is that all right?"

 

"You come to me, Ryan, my dear man, with a request that only I can grant, which means life or death. Does this sound familiar to you and your friends?"

 

Ryan stood silent for a moment, seeing only too clearly what she meant. He decided in his mind that if she pushed it, then he would yield, agree to sleep with her if it meant the chance of saving Doc's life.

 

She waited a long minute. "Go and do this operation, Ryan Cawdor. It's not necessary to try and get what I want this way. The other options are more sure."

 

"What's that mean?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"Must mean something."

 

"Time will show us all, Ryan. Now, that same time is passing by and your friend could be on his way down the slippery slope. Go and save him."

 

"Thanks. Thanks a lot." For a moment he considered kissing her on the cheek, then decided against it.

 

 

 

MILDRED HAD ELECTED to try to operate down in the main kitchen area of the ville.

 

"Best lights. Large table we've had scrubbed and scrubbed. Some real good knives that Jak's been honing until they sing. Plenty of hot water. Can't ask for more."

 

"You want help?" Krysty asked.

 

"I'll use Jak. Got the longest, most agile fingers. Rest of you just keep well back." She wiped sweat from her forehead, reaching to tie a strip of white cotton around her temples. "Tell them to bring him down. And for Christ's sake, don't jog him."

 

"We'll do that. Me and Ryan," J.B. offered.

 

 

 

THE OLD MAN WAS DELIRIOUS, head rolling, eyes staring wildly. He looked through Ryan and J.B. as they bent over him, tucking in the bedclothes, ready to switch him to a stretcher that they'd borrowed.

 

"Turn the right flank, mon commandant , or we are lost! Save the Hussars and we save Moscow. It will take more than a French musketball to keep me from Corunna. Rally stouthearts, and let us seek glory in the cannon's mouth. Onward, onward!"

 

By the time they reached the kitchen with him, Doc had fallen into a deep sleep.

 

"Everything's ready," Mildred said, wearing a makeshift surgical mask, as was Jak, his narrow red eyes staring over the top of it.

 

The kitchen ovens were scorching hot, with cauldrons of water bubbling and steaming. On a side table Mildred had laid out a number of silver needles, already threaded with stout cord, and an amazing array of different knives.

 

"One thing I don't have is any anesthetic," she said. "Have to go in quick and accurate. Ryan, hold his head still. J.B., you take Doc's feet. Krysty, try and keep his hands out of the way. Best we can do." She took a deep breath. "Let's do it."

 

She had three of the brighter sec men standing ready to help with swabs, cloth and water.

 

Behind them, a door opened and Straub entered, closely followed by Countess Katya Beausoleil, who gestured to Mildred to ignore her and get on with the operation.

 

 

 

"WOULD YOU LIKE LIQUOR to help take away the pain, Dr. Wyeth?" asked Katya.

 

"No. He's out cold. Probably come around, but I'm hoping it'll be quick."

 

Straub leaned forward, dark eyes fixed on Mildred. "I can use my silver disk and it will be easy."

 

She hesitated, knowing that the bald man spoke the truth. "No," she said. "Have to bring him around and that'll mean a lot of pain. Damned thing's about ready to burst as it is. I'm starting right now."

 

Ryan watched, unmoving, as she picked up one of the shorter, broad blades, bringing it close to Doc's wrinkled, taut stomach. He was holding the old man's head, tight in both hands, braced against any movement. At the far end of the whitewood table, the Armorer was leaning on his feet. Krysty was sprawled across his chest, both his hands held firmly in hers.

 

Doc seemed to be deeply unconscious, though his eyelids flickered and his lips were moving silently.

 

"Swab the blood, Jak," Mildred said as she made the first straight, deep cut. "Could do with clamps to hold the sides back. Have to do what I can."

 

It was amazingly fast. Ryan checked his chron as Mildred started the first incision. She made further cuts, then reached in to hold the gash while Jak went in, doing what he'd been told by her. He used the longest, thinnest flensing blade, cutting through something that gleamed a yellowish white, holding it up triumphantly in his right hand.

 

Then Mildred was suddenly busier than a one-legged man in a forest fire, sewing and swabbing the gushing tide of crimson that flowed from the wound, Jak at her elbow, following her hissed instructions.

 

"Done," she said, straightening and mopping sweat from her face.

 

"One minute and fifty-six seconds," Ryan said. "And Doc never even stirred."

 

At that precise moment the old man's blue eyes opened. "Thank you, Mama," he whispered. "The agony has somewhat abated." He fell back into the blackness.

 

Straub was softly clapping his hands. "That was quite brilliant, Dr. Wyeth. If you were to choose to stay here in the ville and serve the countess, then I'm certain your financial reward would be beyond your dreams."

 

"Never dream about jack, Straub," she replied. "But thanks for the offer."

 

"Sure, sure."

 

"He all right?" Ryan asked. "Breathing slow."

 

Mildred took his pulse and checked respiration. "Gone into clinical shock. Not surprised at that. Now he can relax." She held up the appendix, showing it around the room. "See the size and color. Doc was almost knock, knock, knocking on heaven's door. Another hour, and it might have burst and I'm not sure I could have saved him without proper facilities."

 

"Will you leave him here in the middle of my kitchen?" the countess asked. "I would prefer it if he could be moved to his own room."

 

Mildred looked at her. " 'Course. Your roast pork and three vegetables comes before the health of a frail old man, doesn't it, Countess?"

 

"You hold your damned impudent tongue, or I'll have it hacked off at the roots and nailed to the door of the outside john."

 

"I don't think so," Ryan said quietly. "Not unless you wanted to be having a major burying party real soon."

 

She pointed a finger at him, turning toward the three watching sec men. "If I tell you, you're to chill all the outlanders. On my word."

 

Ryan shook his head, keeping his voice gentle and nonconfrontational. "Again I don't think so. By the time these boys draw the Rugers and get them into action, we'll have them down in the blood and dirt. Let's keep it calm, Countess."

 

Straub started to giggle once more. "The unstoppable up against the immovable. One must bend or break. Or both."

 

Mildred was washing her hands in a sink in the corner of the kitchen. "It's cool," she said. "Doc can be moved, carefully. Ryan, you and John do that."

 

Ryan nodded. "Sure. Mebbe we can all go up and take a break. Thanks a lot for the help and letting us save Doc's life down here, Countess. I appreciate it."

 

"How much?"

 

"Plenty."

 

"Enough to do what I asked?"

 

He shook his head slowly. "I'm real sorry. No. Not that. But we are truly grateful."

 

She bit her lip. "Go out of my sight, outlanders." She turned toward the door, then stopped. "We have caught a traitor among our sec men. He will be executed this afternoon at three, out back of the ville. I would want you to see how we punish those who are not faithful to us."

 

 

 

THEY WERE ALL GATHERED around Doc's bed when the old man finally blinked awake from his coma. He groaned, turning his head from side to side, the mane of silvery hair matted with sweat, his face lined with pain.

 

"The agony has not, after all, abated," he murmured. "Can you do nothing for me, Dr. Wyeth? What of your Hippocratic oath to aid the afflicted?"

 

"I've aided you, Doc," Mildred said.

 

"Then why am I still torn by the vultures while chained helpless to this mighty boulder?"

 

"Pain'll be bad right now, though they had some tablets in their pharmacy that should work. Herbal stuff. I got you to swallow them just after the operation."

 

"Operation?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"You mean that I have gone under the knife, and the knife was held by you, ma'am? My worst possible nightmare, and I didn't even know it was happening."

 

"You had real bad appendicitis," Ryan said. "Already had one foot on the westbound train."

 

Doc's eyes widened. "My appendix. Yes, that makes sense for the pain and where it lay." He touched himself gingerly, feeling the roll of bandages across his stomach. "And you operated and took it out, Doctor?"

 

"Sure did."

 

"And I yet live?"

 

Mildred grinned. "So far, so good, Doc."

 

He reached out a trembling hand, and she took it, holding it gently. "You and I have had many a falling-out over the long months together, Doctor. But I want you to know that it was all in jest." He paused. "Well, I would say that at least ninety percent of it was in jest." Another pause, and a leer showed that the old Doc was already making his comeback. "Eighty percent."

 

Mildred grinned broadly, shaking his hand. "Hell, Doc, I knew that."

 

 

 

DOC SLEPT MUCH of the time, as the natural healing processes took over.

 

"He all right?" Ryan asked.

 

"Tough old mountain goat," Mildred replied. "Another day and he'll be up and about. Couple of days and he should be ready to move. How's your leg?"

 

"Much better. Hardly notice it now."

 

They both turned as the door eased silently open, and the bald head of Straub appeared. "Countess is ready," he said softly. "All hands to witness punishment."