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“Hold onto that lantern, Charley. Keep it good and steady, ya hear me?”
“I hear ya, Boss.” Charley Waite leaned over the other man, making sure not to block any of the flickering lantern’s light. Boss pulled back on Button’s shirt, hissing under his breath when it pulled on the dried blood around the edge of his wound. Charley didn’t recognize the growl that came out of him as the bullet wound was revealed; for a quick moment he wondered if a wolf had snuck up on the camp, attracted by the smell of death. But no, it was just him, staring at a hole torn into a sixteen-year-old’s side, blood still seeping out even though Mose’s skin had been cold to the touch.
“Exit?” Charley asked, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. He’d never hoped more for an affirmative.
“Nope.” Boss swore again, pulling the shirt farther up and pushing Button’s machete-like knife out of the way. “Ya have your knife on ya?” Charley reached into his back pocket, pulling out the long, thin pocket-knife he always kept on him. He flipped it and offered it handle first to Boss. The older man shook his head.
“Infection. Heat it up in the fire, will ya? I’m gonna see if I can get some of that whiskey into the boy, dull the pain.”
Charley did as Boss ordered, passing Mose’s body. He watched Boss lean over the boy, speaking soft Spanish that Charley couldn’t understand. He didn’t see if the older man got the pain-numbing liquor into the boy, but he heard the weak gasp following the splashing of liquid on the wound. He pulled out the knife as the edges began to glow a soft orange.
“That good?” Boss glanced at the knife.
“It’ll have to do,” came the grudging reply. The man took the weapon from Charley and leaned over Button again, leaning close to the injury. Charley took up the lantern again.
“No.” Boss shook his head. “Put the lantern down here. I’m gonna need ya to hold onto the boy in case he wakes up.”
Charley hesitated, then did as ordered, angling the light so as much fell on Button’s side as possible.
“You know how to do this?” Boss didn’t look at him.
“Probably not as good as that doc back in town, but I’ve done it a few times in my lifetime. Seen it done more. Long as it’s not in too deep or done too much damage, I should be able to get it out.” Boss set the knife against Button’s side and took a deep breath. He glanced at Charley’s hands. “Hold onto his shoulders.”
Charley placed his hands on Button’s thin shoulders. He could feel the bones under the skin and the shifting of muscles. He promised himself to see that the boy received a larger meal portion.
And then Boss Spearman dug the knife into Button’s side and any conscious thought fled Charley’s mind.
Button jerked, screaming, his shrill voice echoing across the hills. His body twisted with more strength than Charley had thought could possibly be in the small body as he strived to escape from the pain erupting at his side. Charley all but threw himself onto the boy, leaning on his arms and across his upper chest while Boss straddled his kicking legs like a wild mustang. The man’s lips were set in a thin line and his eyes were narrowed in concentration; it was like he couldn’t even hear Button’s hollers. But Charley sure could; it felt an arrow was being shoved through his ears.
And then the boy went limp under him and Charley thought his own heart had stopped along with the movements. He quickly moved off Button’s body and placed an ear against his chest. The pounding, a little too fast to be normal, reassured him and he nodded at Boss who had paused in his movements. The man swallowed and turned back to the gunshot wound, hands bloody as they dug around inside.
“Almost got it,” the man muttered, eyes squinting. But the boy jerked again, his middle twisting away and Boss swore as the movement jarred his fingers away from the piece of lead. “Dammit, Charley, hold him,” the man snapped and Charley grabbed the boy. He found himself leaning against his ear, whispering softly.
“It’s okay, it’ll be okay, it’s almost over. Don’t you give up, Button. You hear me? You damn well better not give up.” There was no sign that the young boy heard but his struggles lessened as Boss’s curses grew louder. They finally ceased altogether just as Boss let out an exclamation.
“Got it!” He said triumphantly, holding up the blood coated bullet. It shone in the firelight and Charley spared it a glance. Boss dropped it, letting it fall to the ground next to Button. “Got the bandages?”
“Yeah.” Silently, Charley handed them over, watching as Boss first carefully cleared away the dried blood, then applied pressure to the wound, placing the cotton swatches over the bloody hole. Charley moved Button as gently as he could, holding his breath when the movement elicited a soft moan; the boy’s eyes remained shut and the two men continued to wrap Button’s midriff, looping the gauze around several times before tying it off. Finally, Charley laid the boy back down, stretching out to grab his pack to move it under the boy’s head and neck. Boss settled back on his heels. He went to wipe his forehead, then seemed to notice the blood coating his hands and the knife he still gripped. With a disgusted grunt, he dropped the knife and looked around as though for a place to wipe his hands off.
“Here.” Charley tossed him a canteen that had been within reach. With a sigh of relief, Boss caught it and stepped away to scrub his hands. Button gave a soft moan as he did so, and Charley turned back to him, hoping that he would see his eyes blink and open. But the boy only stirred slightly and quieted, eyes not even flickering under his lids. He looked up as Boss stepped back, the canteen gripped tightly in his dripping hands.
“We should clean up his head; bandage it.” Boss jerked his head in Button’s direction. Charley nodded and reached to take the canteen. Boss shook his head and settled down on his knees to take care of it. Charley watched Boss’s gentle ministrations for a moment as the man carefully wiped the dried and fresh blood from Button’s scalp, carefully avoiding the injury as best he could. Neither of them spoke and Button only gave a soft moan once before settling again. The moan stirred Charley and he glanced around at the disturbed campsite. The lean-too had been torn down and the wagon ransacked. His and Boss’s horses were still standing quietly next to the wagon, one grazing quietly, the other’s head up with his ears pricked towards them. Their saddles were still on, and Charley moved automatically, unsaddling them and placing them on a line. He slung his saddle over one shoulder with the saddle bag, gripping Boss’s in the other hand. He arranged them carefully around Button and Boss, who was just finishing the bandages.
Button’s face was nearly as white as the cloth and fresh blood was already staining it red, but he was lying quietly and Charley quietly counted it as a success.
“Boss,” Charley said quietly. The man’s shoulders twitched and he swung his head around to look at Charley, as though he hadn’t even heard him. Charley held up the bedroll he’d pulled out. “He’d be more comfortable on this.”
“Good thinking, Charley,” Boss said, keeping his voice low. Charley nearly told him it wouldn’t matter if he shouted, it was unlikely that Button would react, but he held his tongue and spread the bedding, evening it out to make sure there were not lumps that might cause the boy and discomfort. Together, the two men moved him, minding his side so as not to jostle it.
Button whined softly as they settled him down and they both froze. Boss leaned over Button. “Button? Can you hear me, boy?” Button’s eyes flickered, then opened into slits.
“B’ss?” His voice was slurred, like that time he’d snuck into a saloon and Boss had dragged him out by the seat of his pants. He’d thrown up behind the stable corral and emerged looking miserable. Charley wished this would be something he’d sleep off just as easily.
“Button?” The boy’s head lolled to the side. He blinked slowly, as though it hurt him.
“W’re’s M’se?” The words were slurred almost beyond recognition, but Charley looked at Boss and saw the pain written all over his face.
“He-uh-he got got hurt, boy. He got hurt real bad. But don’t you worry about it, all right? You just rest up, get your strength back. You hear me?”
“M’kay.” The boy’s eyes slid shut and his mouth went slightly slack. If it weren’t for the thin lines of pain on his face, Charley could almost believe he was sleeping peacefully. Boss straightened, running a hand over his face and stepped away, looking out over the hills. Charley carefully draped a blanket over Button and settled down beside him, leaning in close to listen to him breath. Once he was satisfied, he looked around for the first time. Dawn had come without him noticing; purples and pinks colored the sky, almost like a watercolor painting he’d seen hanging in a fancy house once, a long time ago. He glanced back down at Button and tugged the blanket up, making sure it was tucked in around the boy as best as it could be.
“You done good, Boss,” Charley said quietly. Boss glanced over his shoulder, his face still pale. Charley pulled a little more on the blanket, pulling it up to Button’s chin.
“Him going in and out like that.”
Boss shook his head. “I don’t know. He lost a lot of blood. A whack on the head can make a man strange for the rest of his days.”