Heather Graham's Haunted Treasures by Heather Graham

Author:Heather Graham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 'romance, paranormal, ghost stories, heather graham, collections, pozzessere'
Publisher: 13Thirty Books

Chapter 5

Lenore winced as old Dr. Tempe drew back the flap of the trouser leg he had just slit on the young Georgia private's leg. She had helped out enough in surgery to know what Doc Tempe knew—the boy, barely able to shave, was going to lose the leg.

Then he would have a fifty-fifty chance at life.

"Thank the good Lord for that morphine you brought in on your last trip!" Doc Tempe murmured softly to her. The boy wouldn't have heard him, no matter how loudly he had spoken—he had passed out from the pain long ago. But the hospital quarters where she helped out were really nothing more than the center of the church, and beds lined the place one after another. Doc Tempe spoke softly so that none of his patients would hear his words—every man there dreaded losing a limb. Some were certain that death was preferable, and Lenore thought that maybe they were right, because so often, limbs were amputated, and then the men died anyway. They just went piece by piece instead of all at once, one old soldier had told her.

Doc Tempe set the scissors he had cut the fabric with back on the tray she carried. "Orderly!" he called out to one of the heavyset men assisting them. He inclined his head, indicating that this soldier was going to have to be moved out back where once, not long ago and yet in a distant world, the choir had practiced hymns.

"Are you assisting me?" he asked her.

Lenore bit into her lower lip and nodded. There was nothing she would rather do less. Watch the surgeon with his kit, sawing first the flesh, tourniqueting the stump to stop the endless flow of life from the blood vessels, then finding his bone saw next, and finishing off the grisly task. The orderlies would hold down the poor man and she would jump about as quickly as possible, having what Doc Tempe wanted when and where he wanted it.

Admittedly, she'd passed out cold herself the first time she had tried to assist in surgery. But that, too, had happened in a different, far distant time. Dr. Claiborne, the head of the Confederate medical team here, was a near neighbor, and long before the siege had begun, she had found herself helping out at his side. There weren't enough surgeons in Petersburg to handle the flow of wounded who constantly poured in now. But Doc Tempe was among the best of the men they had; old, grizzled, and white-haired, he was witty and bright, and ever willing to learn from the men. Most of his patients did live. He had told Lenore that the secret was in using sponges. The Yanks liked to sop up blood from wounds with linen bandages and use them over and over again. Some young surgeon had told Doc Tempe that using a fresh sponge with each surgery helped the boys live. "Be damned if I know why!" he told her. "But

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