City of Dreams by Beverly Swerling Read Free Book Online

brought you Tamaka’s fingers, Lucas, so you can sew them back on. The ancient Egyptians did it. You told me so. You can do it, too. Please, Lucas. Please.”
    Despite himself, Sally’s words thrilled him. He’d read of such operations. Back in London he’d even heard of a case in Prussia where a foot was sewn back on, though later it turned black with gangrene and the patient died. But a child’s fingers … Small, malleable, an excellent place to practice such surgery. And this was a squaw brat, so it didn’t matter if she lived or died.
    Sally was still clinging to his jerkin. Lucas detached her hands and turned to the treatment table.
    Above the blood-soaked skirt he could see the child’s budding breasts. She did not move. Lucas thought she was still unconscious; then he looked into her face. She was wide awake and staring at him. Her large dark eyes gave away nothing of what she might be feeling, not even her pain.
    She was holding her left hand with her right, both clasped over her belly. Lucas touched her hands. She did not relax her grip and her eyes never left his face. “She won’t let me touch her.”
    Sally struggled to her feet and came to the table. She stood beside Tamaka, stroked her forehead and her cheeks. “It’s all right, my dear. Brother, mine.” She linked her thumbs in one of their private signs. “He can help you.” She turned to Lucas. “You can examine her now.”
    Lucas peered at the damage to the left hand. Sally had bandaged the wound with sumac leaves and wrapped her shawl around it, but the blood had soaked through everything. He took the shawl and the leaves away. Three small fingers fell to the floor.
    Lucas knelt down and reclaimed them. They were cut clean, but on an awkward slant. “A challenge,” he murmured.
    Sally remained beside Tamaka, stroking her face.
    Lucas studied his sister. “Your friend,” he said again. “A squaw brat.”
    “She’s a child, Lucas.”
    “It’s a fascinating surgery.” Lucas had made up his mind. “Come, Sal, assist me.
    She had helped him before and knew exactly what he’d want. She rushed to pour wine into a pot hanging over the fireplace. Lucas always kept a fire going, though in these hot days of August it was well banked. Sally poked at the logs, making them flare, then rushed back to the other side of the room for his instrument case and opened it. Finally she went to the store of simples for the jug of laudanum.
    “No.” Lucas was cleaning the wound, swabbing the bloody stumps.
    “For the pain,” Sally whispered. “She will suffer so much less.”
    “And appreciate less what we’re doing for her. No laudanum, Sal. I can’t spare it.” The child’s hand had largely stopped bleeding. “How did you know to pack the wound with sumac leaves? It seems they’re excellent for the purpose.”
    “Tamaka showed me. The Indians use sumac for hemorrhage.”
    “Kept her wits about her, did she? After her mischance with the tomahawk.”
    “No, she fainted. I mean she’d told me about the sumac before.”
    “Ah, yes, I forgot. You’ve known her since we arrived. Though you never thought to mention it before now.”
    “Lucas, I—”
    “It doesn’t matter. I forgive you, Sally. We need not discuss it again.” He was examining the severed fingers while he spoke. “Won’t be a great deal left of these after I even them up. But worth trying all the same.”
    “You must succeed, Lucas. If she’s missing fingers, she’ll be rejected for marriage. The Indians believe—”
    “Good God, you’re an expert on what they believe as well?”
    “Of course I’m not. I simply— Can you do it, Lucas? Sew her fingers back on?”
    “I don’t know. But it’s interesting to try.”
    Lucas began working on the detached fingers. Sally took up her post beside Tamaka, stroking her head, murmuring soothing words. Lucas paid no attention to his sister and the child. He was intent on sawing the splintered bone from the severed fingers,