Anyways, if she was interested in you, she would’ve put a love spell on you long ago. And if you were interested in her, she’d have turned you into a newt by now.”

I got on Major’s back. “You ready to go?”

“What about the dead guy?” she said.

“We’ll leave Earl Grubbs to the grubs.”

“I’m okay with that,” she said.

She climbed on Earl’s horse and followed me down the hill.

 


 

 

 

34.

 

“How’d you escape the bull?”

We were back in camp. Shrug and Phoebe were sittin’ with Hannah. Gentry was tellin’ her story to the whores as they sat around the stones we’d placed for last night’s campfire. Rose and me were in the wagon with Scarlett, who was lyin’ face down, stark naked, her face to one side. Her eyes were closed and she was unconscious, a good thing, since Rose was pourin’ sting juice on her wounds. Scarlett’s back, sides, and butt looked like a battlefield. She had gapin’ holes in her body, and where bones should be, I saw horrible bruises formin’. Some of her ribs were clearly broken, but she’d be lucky if that was the worst of it. I’d seen men with lesser wounds who never made it off the doctor’s table.

But Scarlett was in the best hands in the West, far as I was concerned. Rose had saved me and several others I’d brought to her for fixin’, though none this bad. Still, if anyone could bring Scarlett back to normal, it’d be Rose.

I watched her rummage around in the leather bag she used for her doctorin’ supplies. She produced a bottle that had some clear liquid in it, and poured a useful amount on a piece of cloth, handed it to me and said, “Hold this against her nose for five seconds, and again, if she jumps or hollers.”

“What is it?”

“Something to keep her asleep while I stitch her up.”

I did as told, and watched Rose thread a needle with some sort of thick cord.

“That ain’t silk thread,” I said.

“Sometimes silk thread isn’t enough,” she said.

“It smells like tar. What is it?”

“Catgut.”

I took a closer look, then lowered my voice so as not to alarm the others. “Do you mean to tell me you’re sewin’ her up with the guts of an actual cat?”

“Of course not!” she said.

“Well, thank the Lord for that,” I said, glad to know she wasn’t stayin’ up nights carvin’ cats.

“I use the intestines of sheep and goats,” she said, as she plunged the needle into a partic’larly nasty gash and pulled the catgut through the hole. She worked fast and efficiently, and in no time had the worst wound closed. Then she poured some more sting juice on it.

“You cut that cord out of livestock?” I said.

“It’s a natural fiber in the walls of the intestines. I just strip it out, and work it with a cloth ‘til it’s smooth.”

“I never heard of such.”

“You’d be amazed how much cord you can get from a single goat,” she said. “When I slaughter one for food, I get a year’s worth of cord.”

“Who knew that about goats,” I said. “You kill ’em, and eat ’em, and they wind up savin’ your life.”

Scarlett moaned, and her body jerked sharply. I put the cloth under her nose again and she went quiet. I watched Rose stitch some more wounds. “Don’t them intestines cause infection?”

She gave me a curious look. “Why yes, they do, Emmett. But I soak them in phenol to make them sterile.”

“Phenol?”

“It’s a chemical. That’s where the tar smell comes from.”

While Rose worked, I thought about what Mary and Gentry had said about her bein’ a witch. I’d known her awhile, and knew she did witchy things, but never considered her a true witch.