“Not too tight.” He grimaced. “Just so the skin touches. And then loop it around the hemostat just once this time and pull it through again. Do this a few times and then cut the ends.”
Kris paid careful attention to ensure she didn’t pull the suture too tight as she knotted the string. Tears threatened to spill in fear of doing something wrong and costing him his life or the use of his arm because of her negligence. She sucked the emotion back as she tied off the last knot on the first suture and snipped the ends of the string.
She felt like she had just run a marathon as exhaustion hit her. She looked at his arm and the one suture she had completed—one of probably a few dozen.
“It’s going to take you until noon if you keep going at this pace. Start the next one. Do it halfway between the first suture and the end of the gash. Then the same on the other side and keep doing it halfway between until there’s enough to keep the skin closed all along the wound.”
Kris focused. She rolled her shoulders and prepared for the next suture. It went quicker than the first. And the third went even faster. By the time she had finished the second wound, Tucker snored from his hammock and Blake’s head nodded. How he could sleep through such a painful procedure was beside her.
Two more gashes to go. She stretched her neck, her hands, and rotated her shoulders. Just as she was about to start the first suture in the next wound, she felt Blake’s eyes on her. She froze and met them.
“You’re doing great, Kris. Thank you.” His words, though muddled with exhaustion, held all the encouragement she needed to hear.
His words lent her strength and purpose. Her husband needed her, and she was able to do what was necessary. She slipped the needle in, and in no time at all she was tying the last stitch. Finally, she gobbed antibiotic cream over her handiwork.
Blake stretched his neck to look at the wound. “You’ll make a medic yet, Krista. Nice work.”
She didn’t hide her smile this time while she bandaged his arm, feeling proud of what she had been able to do and praying that it healed well, that it didn’t become infected, and that he would have full use of his arm.
As she cleaned up, she found an Ace bandage. “Stand up,” she directed her husband. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips when he raised his eyebrows at her. She knew he wasn’t used to be directed, but he didn’t argue as he stood.
She lifted his shirt up.
“You know, if you wanted to undress me, all you had to do was ask.”
“You’re in no shape to do that,” she said as she wrapped the bandage around his ribs. There wasn’t much else besides time that she could do for them. “Do you think they are broken?”
“Just cracked, I bet. Maybe even only bruised. We’ll see in a few days.” He lowered his arms and tentatively took a deep breath. “Better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She packed up the rest of the things and put them away, avoiding his eyes. Emotions were starting to overwhelm her, and she was too exhausted to stuff them anymore.
“Hey,” Blake said as he caught her arm. “You did good tonight. You both did.” He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
“We could have lost you.” The words tore from her.
Though it probably hurt him, he pulled her into his arms and held her. “It’s going to take a lot more than a bear to take me away from you.”
Kris let him hold her for several more minutes before helping him gingerly into bed. She kissed her son on his forehead before carefully climbing in beside her husband. He already had started snoring before she had settled. Though her mind swirled, once she closed her eyes, exhaustion took over. She settled a hand gently on her husband, feeling his chest rising and sinking. He was here by her side. Her family was safe, at least for now.
~3~
Blake growled low in his throat, sounding like the bear that had attacked him. He squeezed his eyes shut and blew out an explosive breath. Controlling his language took a strain on him. His wife and son were so sensitive it left him having to calculate each and every word, a fact that drained him further. If they were his men, they would have the full wrath of his frustration.
“Why don’t we take a break, Tuck?” Kris wrapped an arm around their son while glancing back at Blake. Anger didn’t flash in her eyes, but empathy. Somehow, that felt worse.
What he wouldn’t give to be able to run a mile or do a few sets of push-ups to dispel the pent-up frustration and self-condemnation. Yet, just kicking at the rocks on the dusty ground sent his ribs into spasms.
“You need a break? Want to go for a walk or want me to try?” She nodded toward the deer meat they had been trying to strip and salt.
The chore took strength, one that his wife or his son didn’t possess. It just tacked on another thing to the list that he had failed at. He should have been hunting and procuring meat for the winter. Now, he sat around barking orders at his family and getting frustrated when they didn’t have what it took to complete them.
“I should be hunting. We need to be stockpiling meat.”
“We have enough to supplement the freeze-dried rations. Plus my crops are coming in nicely. If I am able to can enough before...” Her hands possessively wrapped around her belly, and her eyes wouldn’t meet his.
He knew why. Try as he might, he couldn’t be excited about another baby. It could take Kris away from him and leave Tucker motherless. Every time he thought about it, he broke out in a cold sweat.
“Anyway, I can teach Tuck, too. He’s a fast learner.”
“Yes, he is.” He looked at his wife, her red hair wild around her glowing face. She always had made pregnancy look beautiful. “I don’t enjoy being hard on him.”
“There are different ways to do it. Between us, maybe he’ll be balanced.” She smiled weakly before her eyebrows scrunched together and she turned away.
“How often are they happening?”
“Huh?” she asked, pretending to be busy with the meat.
“Kris, don’t pretend like I don’t know what’s going on. How often is the cramping happening?” His fists clenched. It was too soon. The baby wouldn’t survive. He feared what that would do to Kris.
“More frequently, but I’m fine.” She turned back around, her forehead smooth once more. “Just Braxton-Hicks. Nothing to be alarmed about.”
Blake knew different. He knew that it concerned Kris and that they were happening more often than they should. What should he do, though? As much as she should rest more, if she did, no one would be preparing for winter and they would be in dire straits.
Without a word, Blake stormed out into the forest. Kris would be flaming mad, but it would be better than his mouth spouting off in ways it shouldn’t to his wife. He needed to calm down and think. Panic only complicated and clouded the situation. He could figure out a way to help them survive. He had to.
~*~
Kris grit her teeth as she tugged the knife through the meat. Since Blake had stormed off, she had sliced into thin strips nearly three-quarters of the meat he had quartered and smoked. She stood to wipe the sweat beading on her forehead with her arm.
“Great work, Tuck,” she encouraged her son as he salted the meat before adding it to the rest of the pile.
“I’m hungry, Mommy.”
“Me, too. Let’s munch on this venison that some fine hunter got for us.” She cut off two fresh strips and handed one to Tucker.
“Thanks,” he said, before taking a tentative bite. “I don’t think I’m a fine hunter.”
Kris held her breath. She had been waiting for him to open up about the hunt. “Why would you say that?”
“I cried when I shot the deer.” He lowered the piece of meat and stared at it absently.
“Why would that mean you aren’t a good hunter?” she asked, hoping he would keep talking.
“Hunters don’t cry.” He hung his head.
“I’m sure most hunters do after their first kill. I know I would.”
“Yo
u would?”
“Absolutely,” she said as she wrapped an arm around him and sat with him on the log. “If you enjoyed the killing part, I would be worried.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s hard to kill another living being in order to keep your family alive.”
“Maybe we should just become vegetarians.” He shuffled his feet in the dirt, still holding his slice of meat.
“Well, that can be an option I guess, but the meat gives us vital nutrients that we can’t get from the plants we grow here, and it’s something we can eat year round. We have to see it as survival food.”
“Like that disgusting freeze-dried stew.”
Kris laughed. The stew had been quite horrid, but they made Tucker eat every last bite. It’s survival. Nothing can go to waste.
“Yes, Sweetie. Something like that.”
He nodded, inspected his meat, and then tugged off a bite with his teeth.
“I’m proud of you, Tucker. It takes a strong person to do what has to be done to help their family survive, even if it’s really hard.”
She kissed her son on the temple before attacking the piece of meat in her hand. Luckily, the nausea had worn off last month. Now, she felt ravished all the time, and this baby craved meat.
Learning how to navigate killing their food was a lesson Kris had never wanted to learn. She watched her son with empathy. If hunting was left up to her, they just might have to become vegetarians. The baby rolled around in her stomach, kicking and pushing. Kris rubbed her belly, letting a smile crease her lips. Baby didn’t like that idea.
The deer had been cut and salted and the sun sat low on the horizon by the time Blake decided to grace them with his presence again. Kris pushed the annoyance down as her eyes fell on his arm in a sling. The man didn’t know what to do with himself. He had been injured almost beyond capacity, and she was sure he worried about all that he couldn’t do right now.
“Time for practice,” he said as a greeting.
Kris swallowed the groan that stuck in her throat. For Tucker’s sake, she would keep it to herself. She hoisted herself off her seat, wishing her courteous husband who had spoiled her during her first pregnancy would return. Now, all she had was this stern, watchful man who scrutinized her every move.
The irritability grew as the day had grown longer, as did the cramping in her belly. She needed rest, whether he thought so or not. He had disappeared around the corner of the house, as she figured out how to state the words. Should she come up with an excuse to go into the house or just come straight out and tell him she was going to go inside and rest?
When he came around the corner with the shotgun in hand, though, she knew she wasn’t going to get out of this practice.
~*~
“Grab your bow, Tucker.” Blake nodded to the boy as he held Kris with his gaze.
She was exhausted. He could read it in her expression, but this was something that needed to be accomplished and now. Tomorrow might be too late.
“Come on. You can sleep in tomorrow.” He did his best to grin, though it felt more like a grimace.
Kris rolled her eyes, but she followed with Tucker running at her heels.
“Mommy, wait until you see what I can do now.”
She smiled and let her hand touch his slim shoulder before he ran ahead to put up the targets he had made by wrapping wild grasses together. The kid’s ingenuity always surprised Blake. If things had been different, he bet his son could have had a lucrative career at just about anything he wanted. Instead, he had to use those skills to stay alive.
He pushed away the negative thoughts. Staying on task meant staying alive. Left alone in your head too long, you would lose your grasp on sanity. Another thing he needed to reinforce in his son. He added that to the growing mental list. How would he ever teach him enough?
“Watch!” Tucker called as he loaded an arrow into his bow.
Concentration settled into the boy’s eyes. He held the bow in his left hand, pointed his feet perpendicular to the target, grasped the string below his nocked arrow with the two top pads of his fingers, took a breath in as he pulled back, and held it while he aimed. His breath rushed out and his fingers released the arrow as if he blew it to the middle of the target.
“Bullseye.” He grinned proudly up at his mom.
Blake breathed a sigh of relief. He had feared that Tucker’s hunting experience would cloud his desire for archery. It seemed it hadn’t, as Tucker slung his bow over his back and skipped toward the arrow wedged into the bundle of grass.
“He’s really improved,” Kris said, her gaze still on their son.
“As you said, he’s a fast learner. As his strength grows, so will his skills.” He handed her the shotgun. “Now let’s see if Tucker got his speed of learning from you.”
Kris hesitated before she took the shotgun from his hands. He thought long and hard about which gun he wanted to train her on. The pistol would be easier for her to carry but harder to aim, and had a short range. The rifle was meant for long distances, and he couldn’t see her sniping someone or something like that. The shotgun, though, could kill small game and whether close or far, would be deadly to an attacker.
Tucker returned and watched raptly while Blake awkwardly helped with his one good arm to get Kris holding the gun in the correct position.
“Now, the safety is on. We won’t release it until it’s time to shoot, but we still...”
“Never point the gun at anything we don’t want to kill,” both Tucker and Kris stated.
“Well, I guess you two do listen to me. At times at least.” He chuckled, enjoying the feeling of the laugh even though his ribs caught with the action.
“When it’s a topic I know you are more knowledgeable in, at least.” Kris’s smile made the jab worth it, and besides, she had a point. He surely didn’t know everything. Trying to cook the other night proved that to him...and everyone else.
“Okay. Okay. Now let’s get to business. The shotgun is a powerful weapon. It’s most effective within thirty yards and uses a scattered shot, so it’s harder to miss your target.”
“Should I learn how to use it, too?” Tucker asked while peering around to see everything Blake talked about.
“No, not yet. It has quite the punch. Nestle it more in the crook, here.” He touched the place between her shoulder and collarbone. “We don’t want you to dislocate a shoulder.”
He continued his instruction, and thankfully Kris listened with only one or two small eye rolls.
“Are you going to have me shoot it or what? I’m getting hungry.”
“Me, too,” Tucker added.
“I hear ya. Okay, let’s shoot. Aim for that middle bundle. Good. Hold your breath and squeeze the trigger slowly.”
The echo of the gun exploded throughout the land around them. Blake immediately stood and looked around. Why hadn’t he thought about the sound of the gun alerting people?
“I hit it!” Kris’s enthusiasm pulled his attention back to her.
“So you did.” He smiled and squeezed his good arm around her. “Looks like you’re going to have to rebuild that target tomorrow, Champ.”
“Whoa, Mommy shot it to smithereens!”
“Yes, she did.”
“Should I try another shot?” Kris asked, a shine of excitement in her eyes.
“I think we better not. You’ve proved you’ve got the skill and can handle it. Best to save the ammunition.” He spoke the truth, but as he looked around once more, listening to the birds still protesting the loud explosion, he worried.
What if someone had heard that shot?
~4~
The weeks slowly crawled by. Kris became slower and slower as her stomach grew. She enlisted help from Tucker so much that he practically ran the harvesting and canning by himself, though she wouldn’t let him do the boiling water part yet. Every time he got near the massive pot of scalding liquid, it scared her. A shiver ran down her spine with the thought of those consequences.
>
Blake strode toward them, walking better every day. He grasped a rake in his healing arm. The sign reassured her. She felt blessed that it had healed as nicely as it had with no signs of infection and that he had the ability to fully use his arm, as least as much as she could tell.
Blake had never complained, though she could see the lines etched in his brow when it pained him.
“How’s the body?” she asked as he sat in the shade near where she and Tucker stood.
“Almost as good as new. In fact...” he paused and looked up at her.
She took the moment to sit as well. Her swollen feet surely needed a rest. Besides, with the news he was springing on her, she might wish to be sitting rather than standing.
“I’m thinking I’m ready for a hunt.”
“Really?” she asked and shook her head. “I really don’t think you should stress that arm or your ribs with trying to stretch that massive bow.”
“Not bow hunting, rifle.” He watched her like she should know the importance behind his words.
“And that means?”
“I will need to travel farther from the house so my shots aren’t trackable back here.”
“You’re not taking Tucker.” The words flew from her mouth before she could stop them. The thought of Tucker out there in the wilderness overnight without her...she shook her head adamantly.
Tucker stopped, a handful of green beans in his hands. He didn’t say anything, but he watched them with rapt attention.
Blake cleared his throat, looked at their son, and back to her. “I would actually feel better if he was with you.”
Kris blew out the breath she had been ready to barrage him with. Thank goodness the man had some sense.
“I need to travel light so I can carry the deer back, and,” he looked at Tucker, “I need you to keep your mom safe for me.”
Tucker nodded. Kris saw the mixture of emotions on his face: relief, hurt pride, and the protectiveness she had seen rise in him with her pregnancy.
“I will keep Mommy and my sister safe.”
“Good boy. I’ll set out before dawn tomorrow. With any luck, I could be back late that night.”
Grant Us Mercy (Book 3): Grant Us Mercy Page 3