William had seen some horrific things in his life, and had been involved in some as well.  But he'd never seen anything so horrible, so close at hand as seeing a man's arm removed from his body with a frickin' saw!  His gaze shifted away from, back to, and again away from the work being done at the soldier's arm, until finally it had been removed and tossed away and the [i]stump[/i] sewn closed in the hopes that the man wouldn't bleed to death after all that work and pain.

When it was all over and the others began cleaning up -- themselves and the scene both -- William excused himself, stepped outside for some fresh air, and -- after fighting it for a good two minutes or so -- ultimately puked up the simple dinner Keziah had provided him earlier in the afternoon.  He looked at his hands to find a bit of blood, then -- remembering a spray at one point -- reached up to find more of the drying, thick fluid on his cheek and in his hair.  He found a trough of water and doused himself well as he contemplated his situation before returning to the home's interior.

[color=007236]"Thank you for your help,"[/color] Samuel said to William.  After the man from the future only nodded his acknowledgment, the doctor from the past -- or is it the present? -- continued, [color=007236]"You are welcome to stay with my wife and I tonight. Our home is a short journey away."[/color]

At the offer, William looked Keziah's way for a flash before looking to the young woman's brother and telling him with a hint of both confusion and disappointment, "Oh, I, um ... I thought this was your place.  That you lived here."  

He again glanced his hostess's direction.  In his 21st century mind set, William had been hoping to stick around Keziah a bit longer, forgetting the fact that in [i]this[/i] day and age a man not of the family -- particularly a stranger -- didn't just [i]stick around[/i] a single female, or even a married one, without a herd of family members there to keep an eye on him.  William looked back to Samuel again, testing, "Shouldn't someone stay with your sister...?  To make sure she's safe, I mean?"

William got just about the answer he'd been expecting, reaffirmed his appreciation for the offer, then excused himself once more.  He caught Keziah's reaction to him once again heading for the door, reassured her that he and his wounds were fine, and headed outside.  He spent several minutes wandering around the property and up nearer the street and even beyond the ditch, hoping -- praying, despite not being a religious man -- that somehow his ancestor's rifle would simply be laying here for William to discover, safe and sound.  But, nothing.  The closest thing he found to a long rifle was the butt of one that had been broken, likely in a fight or by having a bullet go through it, splintering the wood.  The locking mechanism and barrel -- the working portion -- was gone, and William knew that some handy man would be carving a new butt to put the weapon back into service for the next battle.

Disappointed, William returned to Keziah's home.  It was aired out by now yet still smelled of the horrific surgery, and by now the only people left were the injured man -- now passed out -- and the first three people William had met upon his arrival in this time.  He watched the others interact for a while, then turned his thoughts to the injured man.  The surgery had been incredible, considering the times, but these people knew nothing of germs and infection.  William mused about some of the thinking people of the mid-18th century had about how the human body worked.  There were still in place at this time in some areas strong religious beliefs about how disease and ailments were the work of Satan or evil spirits.  Did they believe any of that here, now?  It had been just a bit more than 80 years ago that the Salem Witch Trials had occurred, just 25 miles from here.  Well, it [i]would[/i] be, once the Callahan Tunnel ran under the Boston Channel.

[i]What the hell have I gotten myself into?[/i] William thought to himself as he watched the activity around him.  His situation only got more incredible as time went on: he was in Boston in 1775 watching the American Revolution unfold all around him!  Keziah offered him some food, which he ate down with enthusiasm, complementing her.  But his attention kept going back to the injured man, and when a pair of soldiers stopped by to ask about whether they should take him to his family, William knew he had to do something he'd been trying to avoid for fear of exposing who he was and from where -- or when -- he'd come.

"No, you can't take him yet," he cut into the conversation taking place between Samuel, Keziah, and the men.  He saw the reactions, and knew that he'd be getting more of them if he continued, but William needed to chance doing what needed to be done.  He looked to Samuel, then Keziah, and claimed, "Where I come from, we've, um ... we've learned a new thing ... about medicine ... about injuries ... about how to prevent infection."

William looked to Keziah and said with a polite respectful tone, "If you would boil me a pot of hot water and provide me with some of your cleanest cloth, I will explain what we've learned."

He knew he was treading on thin ice when it came to discussing scientific learning in an age still dominated by religious thinking, but William wanted -- no, needed -- to contribute this knowledge less Samuel's patient die after such an excellent surgery from a common infection.  "There are these things called germs.  They are very small, so small that we can't see them with out eyes..."

As he went to work and tried to employ both Samuel and Keziah in it, William tried to keep his explanation simple for fear of being labeled a warlock, a blaspheme, or a simple nut.  He soaked Keziah's cleanest rags in hot water, dabbed at the wound of the soldier -- who was in and out of consciousness and who writhed in pain when touched -- then dried the stub and wrapped it in bandages.  He looked between the two [i]medical workers[/i] often as he explained what he was doing, finishing with, "The bandages must be checked and changed if necessary at least twice a day, and if the wound begins to, um ... what's the word ... [i]fester![/i]  If it gets [i]nasty[/i], it needs to be cleaned with boiling water again -- [i]not[/i] just hot, but water that has been boiled, then cooled -- so that the infection is dealt with."

When he finished, William stood over the patient, studied him as he once again passed out, then looked to the others.  He was feeling pretty proud of himself.