Cabin Fever: A MM Western Romance by Emilia Loft

Author:Emilia Loft [Loft, Emilia]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2020-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

7

Chapter 7: Pretty Saro

This time John’s nightmare placed him back in the hospital, surrounded by his fellow soldiers. The air was rife with moans and screaming and his nose filled with the smell of rotting flesh. John blinked his eyes open and saw a doctor hovering over him.

“I’m sorry, we’re going to have to take the arm.” The doctor said, brandishing a bone saw.

“N-no… no!” John felt himself going under just as the saw touched his skin, causing the pain in his shoulder to bloom.

“John? John!”

John jerked awake and grimaced, his shoulder stiff and sore. Ian stood over him, a look of concern on his face.

“Are you all right?” Ian asked.

John had obviously interrupted him while he dressed. He wore black breeches, black riding boots, and a white shirt that was only half-fastened. Suspenders hung at his side.

“You were moaning for a while.” Ian still watched John with concern. “I was about to wake you when you cried out.”

“I’m fine.” John insisted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. “How is your shoulder this morning?”

John swung his arm to prove he felt better and his knees almost went out from under him at the jolt of pain that went down his arm. Ian moved to grab him by his good arm, steadying him. John sat back on the edge of the bed and waited for the pain to pass.

“It’s a little stiff.” John grunted. He glanced up and caught Ian’s eyes, twinkling with humor.

“Only a little stiff, eh?” Ian said, turning away and fastening the rest of his shirt. “Well, then, I may as well send you out to clean your barn.”

John chuckled. “All right, I suppose it’s paining me fairly well. Will you help me with more of that liniment?”

“Of course.” Ian shrugged into his suspenders and took up the pot of liniment.

He helped John pull his arm out of his sleeve and carefully massaged the ointment into the aching joint. John closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, a pleased sound rumbling from his throat.

“Is that better?” Ian asked.

John could now move his arm slowly, with only a slight twinge of pain. He nodded, gratefully. “Thank you.”

“I trust you can dress yourself?” Ian asked lightly, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “I’ll go check on Azure while you do and then I’ll see what I can do for breakfast.”

John assured Ian he could manage his clothes just fine and Ian headed towards the barn. John used a flannel to wash his face and then ran a comb through his sleep-mussed hair. He pulled on clean canvas trousers and a white and cream-striped linen shirt. His clothes from the day before would have to be laundered before they would be wearable again; they stunk of river water and dried mud flaked away when John held them up. With some grunting and awkward maneuvering, John managed to slip his feet into his own boots. He expended even more effort getting his suspenders attached to his trousers.

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