That was the thing about small towns that were rather isolated. Everyone and their neighbor would come out to see the fuss over any piece of news. That wasn’t to say that this wretched attack was not worth fussing over, but had there been a loose pig in the square it would have drawn an equal crowd, though the atmosphere was sure to be a little less solemn.  So Harriet didn’t look up as she heard boot heels clunking up the steps and into the infirmary, and she wasn’t surprised to see a shadow coming across her still open door. 

Wiping away another layer of dirt and sweat with her damp cloth Harriet glanced up through her lashes to see who it was. It was Mr. Cothran, and a look through the window would show that his man Mr. Ross would be joining them soon. 

Straightening up Harriet’s mouth twitched slightly at the titles Mr. Cothran still insisted on using. If she had told him once she had told him a hundred times he could call her Harriet. Still the cowboy refused to comply.  “Mr. Cothran…” his ranch hand came to hover behind him, both men holding their hats off respectfully as they were indoors and at a sick bed. “Mr. Ross. I’m not sure there is much you can do here to help…This poor boy just appeared in the square… I believe his caravan was attacked by Indians. Do you know if anyone has made a party to search for his…” Her warm brown eyes drifted sadly to the child and then away “ families remains?” Perhaps if a group hadn’t been formed yet Mr. Cothran could gather up some men…And a cart for the bodies, if there were any…

Harriet moved  to her basin and dipped the cloth in, wringing out the dirt and sweat . No blood. That was good. The nurse moved back to the boy and picked up one of his hands delicately, wiping down his arm and down each finger meticulously, expression softening as she tended to the boy. 

As she was running the cloth over dirty finger tips her trained eye couldn’t help but stray but for a second to the awkward angle at which Mr. Cothran’s ranch hand Mr. Ross held his leg when standing. Being a nurse in the war Harriet was fairly certain he was one of the many battered and injured men resulting in the conflicts, but the way he still hobbled around made her think the treatment he had received may have been a little too late. 

Eyes back to the task at hand Harriet kept her voice soft and sweet as to not rouse the child. “ I heard you boys got into a spot of trouble on your own yesterday…” Small towns, gossip travels fast. Taking the cloth back over to the basin to rinse it once more Harriet paused, looking up thoughtfully. “Perhaps, if you’re planning on going out and looking for this boy’s family Mr. Cothran, you could leave Mr. Ross with me to help with turning the child over and carrying him and such? He’s just a bit too large for me to handle on my own…If he remains to be unconscious…” She trailed off carefully, they understood. 

This would also mean Harriet could spare Mr. Ross a ride out to the remains, surely being in the saddle was not comfortable for him. And then she might be able to persuade him to let her finally look at that leg! As she had been itching to do ever since she spotted Mr. Ross hobbling across the square and into the Saloon. 

“Of course if you need Mr. Ross’ aid I am sure I can manage here on my own.” Sensible, practical, reliably Nurse Harriet. Of course she would manage on her own, and be courteous to Mr. Cothran. She started to wash the boys other arm to give the men the semblance of privacy to discuss the best course of action. 

Harriet had always liked Mr. Cothran, despite his refusal to call her Harriet. He had been polite, took good care of his ranch hands always bringing them in when sick or injured and knew enough about Harriet to injure graciously about her few personal interests. She still didn’t know Mr. Ross very well, he mostly came in town to run errands.