Sterling

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

Harriet never minded cussing. Her brothers had done a fair share of it (whenever out of ear shot of their father) and in the army she had heard even more. She barely waved off the apology from Mr. Cothran before the nurse was back to thinking about what her next course of action should be for the boy once he was clean.

These thoughts were interrupted as Mr. Cothran came to a decision about his ranch hand. Harriet’s soft brown eyes moved from him to Mr. Ross with a smile of thanks. “That’s very kind of you Mr. Cothran, and you Mr. Ross for missing out on the action to stay here with me and the boy…” Though she knew it wasn’t really Mr. Ross’ choice in the matter, better to be gracious . “Yes.” She agreed. “Better safe than sorry.” A motto every nurse knew and believed in.

“Be careful yourself Mr. Cothran…” Her wide eyes met his briefly before nodding and turning back to her work. Hopefully the boy’s family could be found and given a proper burial.

Harriet was quiet as she continued to bathe the boy’s torso, cleansing his skin and finding no more injuries. It seemed that Mr. Ross was a bit put out about not getting to join the hunting party. The nurse did not comment on this, men liked to hunt and fight and do things. It was normal that he would rather be off riding than tending to a nurse and a scared boy.

After a quick sulk Mr. Ross was recovered . Harriet smiled in a friendly manner, her tone apologetic. “I really do appreciate your staying Mr. Ross. I know it’s not much fun to be left behind with me and the boy…” She grinned sympathetically and put the dirty cloth aside, turning to her various drawers to pull out a clean one and dipping it in the clean basin. “No good deed goes unpunished or so they say…”

Turning back she gestured to the lad. “If you could just lift him up, lean him forward over your arm so that I might wash his back?” Harriet moved to brace the child’s upper body, adjusting Mr. Ross’ grip and the positioning of the boy until it was precisely what she wanted before going to work. Again, the boy was just dirty.

“Well…Physically he seems to be in perfect health…” Of course mentally…That wouldn’t be the case.

The nurse was quiet for some time, bathing the lad and concentrating on her work, occasionally changing Mr. Ross’ grip but otherwise absorbed. Off came the trousers and a clean white night gown was produced, slipped over the boy’s head and he was ready.

“If you wouldn’t mind picking him up now Mr. Ross, I have a patient’s room with a cot made up. We can put him there and let him rest…” Harriet dried her hands in her starched white apron as she spoke, then gestured to the door off her examination room. Once the boy was in Mr. Ross’ arms Harriet opened the door for him, fluffed the pillow before the boy was set down and then draped a very light shawl over him.

Maternally she brushed a few stray strands of hair away from the lost boys face before turning to leave the room. Shutting the door softly Harriet smiled her thanks up at Mr. Ross, small hand coming to grip his elbow in gratitude.

“Poor lamb…But then life is hard…I think you and I must know that by now Mr. Ross, to have lived as long as we have…” But then he was quite a bit older than she. This thought hovered in the air, about the unfairness of life and how rough it was before Harriet shook her head, reaching up to smooth her plain brown hair back into its practical pinned and braided style. No point in moping about something that couldn’t be changed.

“And now it’s your turn.” Harriet’s expression was no nonsense. “How may I help you Mr. Ross? Any ailments I could take a look at while we wait? Or perhaps just some coffee?” Not that Harriet was a particularly good cook, but it was almost impossible to mess up coffee.

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

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.

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

Ouch

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

With the boy between herself and a passerby Harriet was half way up the steps to the infirmary when a rather fancy looking woman and her companion approached. The brunette smiled politely at the two though she wanted to keep moving and get the boy indoors.

“The boy appeared in the square a few minutes ago, apparently there was trouble with his family’s caravan…” Harriet nodded towards the direction the boy had come, then lowering her voice even further in case the boy woke and would find her words disturbing “Indians attacked…”

Shaking her head at the tragedy of it all Harriet adjusted her grip about the young boys waist and nodded to her companion, hoping to resume her way into the infirmary. “It looks like some folk are going to go out and see if there are any survivors…” The nurse’s dark expression implied her expectation that there would be none. “I suppose if you’re wishing to help you could bring back the bodies…” If there were any… “ for a proper burial…I’ve got this young man well in hand. He’s not hurt just sun sick.”

Realizing this might be rude Harriet added “Of course if you prefer you could come into the infirmary with me…” The woman’s dress made Harriet think that she wasn’t used to physical work, or messy work, both of which was nursing. Still she had approached seemingly out of the good of her heart to help.

With that said Harriet had the boy inside her office and laid out on one of the tables, careful to rest his body down gently. The first thing she did was untie her bonnet, hang it on the hook by the door and wash her hands.

These tasks completed Harriet dampened a rag and started to wash the dust from his face, neck and chest, careful to examine every inch for further injuries she may have initially over looked. The look on the nurse’s face was that of tender consternation as she worked.

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

Yep, banging it out does get easier the more you do it!

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

<Snipped quote by PhoenixWhite>

I'm glad I could expand your dick-waving-writing-related (that's a mouthful) horizons.

@RoadRash

I literally groaned aloud after reading this!

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

<Snipped quote by Sombrero>

Seriously. Is this really such a big deal? Write how you want to write and get over the length.

@idlehands

LENGTH MATTERS DON'T YOU KNOW?!?!?! (:D) I was less worried about the quantity and more impressed by the quality of your first post than anything. Obviously it didn't impede me however. I'm a FAST writer. Also I think Benji will eventually feel the need to visit the nurse/doctor with that bum leg. :D

Exciting stuff. @RoadRash Thanks for the clarification about your lack of dick waving. I feel much better now (JK I was never worried in the first place, it was a nice little scene, gave me something to read whilst waiting for the water to boil)

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

@Jbcool

The nurse was relieved to see those bright blue eyes, even if it was briefly at first. Overheated, dehydrated and possibly in shock, the boy would probably survive, though whether he wished he hadn't by the end of it all... Harriet couldn't say. She was just looking about to see if someone could help her get the boy back into the offices when his raspy voice caught her attention (well everyone surroundings attention really).

Bending closer to listen to his words, the volume increase did not help. She spoke English, and having lived in Texas long enough to understand the importance of it had picked up a bit of Spanish. But whatever it was the boy was trying to tell her, Harriet had no clue. Ruefully Harriet was shaking her head to say she could not help him when the boy seemed to realize his mistake.

Smart little creature... To even in this horrible predicament know what was needed and adapt.

A small frown tucked into the corners of her mouth as the story came out. Texas was an unforgiving place at times, and it seemed this boys family had met some ill fortune on their way here. Rocking back on her heels Harriet kept her firm grip on the boys wrist as he passed out again. It was probably for the best.

The nurse watched as men crowded together, perhaps making some plan of action. There was nothing she could do there. She was no rough rider, no lawman. She could no more track down Indians or the boys family as she could break a bank safe or hit a target with her eyes shut.

What she could do was help the boy. Catching the eye of a bystander she finagled them into helping her carry the boy towards the offices so that she might tend to his ailments. A bath, some lotion on his burnt skin, plenty of water. Those were things Harriet could fix... The ache in his heart from what had happened? Well...After the war everyone seemed to have that ache. He would just learn to live with it.

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

@Jbcool Is there a posting order or anything like that? How do you like your games to go?

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

Delicate fingers probed the remarkable saddle sore gently as light brown eyes examined the area around the wound. It wasn’t that bad, just the skin rubbed raw and oozing from sitting in the saddle too long with ones pants bunched against the riders skin and the side of the horse, or the girth, or the saddle depending on where the sore was located.

But Mr. Jones skin was fair and even soft to the touch asides from the hair and the specific sore. Harriet was willing to bet that Mr. Jones was rather new to the cowboy, Texas life style. In fact she wondered how he had managed to keep sores such as this one at bay this long. Harriet sat back from examining the wound and pressed her plump lips together thoughtfully.

“Well Mr. Jones color me impressed.” The nurse smiled kindly and stood, walking to the low table that supported the various jars of concoctions and medical supplies. “That is quite a saddle sore you have there… Must have been riding for some time to have developed one like that…” Mr. Jones flushed and murmured something vaguely affirmative, confirming Harriet’s belief that he had not been in the saddle all that long, and truly his skin was just used to a much more sensible usage than being rubbed and chaffed all day in jeans and leather.

“Not to worry…I’ll have you cleaned up in a jiffy and you’ll be able to get back to work. Might I suggest that you wrap the area’s most commonly affected by rubbing with some bandages before mounting up? Just for your days that will be spend continuously in the saddle?”

Mr. Jones looked grateful for the suggestion and listened intently as Harriet described the various body parts most regularly afflicted by such things while demonstrating how to wrap himself with the length of bandages provided. Harriet cleaned the current saddle sore, dressed it and with a word of thanks and payment Mr. Jones was on his way. She wished him luck, with skin as soft as his the nurse knew they would see each other weekly.

Washing her hands in the basin beside the window Harriet mused that most Texans and cowboys, from her experience, had skin as thick as the long horns they worked with, half the time they came in complaining of stomach pains only to find out they had three or four other bleeding scrapes and wounds that they were completely unaware of.

This trail of thought was cut off sharply as the square fell silent. Harriet’s work room in the doctors main studio was part of the main square and her window looked out onto the bustling streets. The silence in itself was more alarming than the cries for help. If the crowds went quiet, it was a sure sign of something ominous.

The nurse dried her hands on her apron as she peered out the window, wondering what was going on. A young boy half-dressed was stumbling into the square, hollering for help. Startled into action Harriet grabbed her plain white bonnet and pulled it onto her head, demurely covering her braided and coiled brown hair before rushing down the steps of the square’s buildings and towards the boy.

“What is the matter?” She asked softly, approaching with some caution as she slowed her gate. Just because he was a boy did not mean he wasn’t dangerous, still it seemed unlikely he was armed, dressed as he was, and the poor lamb seemed on the edge of fainting. Harriet was not a fighter and she could not help with the obvious horrors the boy was escaping but she could help him.

As he fainted Harriet felt even more sure of his inability to harm her and approached, kneeling beside his body and bringing a soft clean hand to his dirty cheek, throat and neck appraising as she went, eyes focused on the patient and nothing else. At least for the moment.