Jane Carter Investigates: Episode Thirty-Six
Jennie knew exactly what to do, for during her many years on the
water, this was not the first time she had been called upon to revive a victim
of the river.
“You git them wet clothes off him,” she told her husband. “He kin
have Jed’s bed.”
Jed was routed out of his snug nest, and he stood watching
drowsy-eyed as his father rolled the stranger beneath the covers. Jennie heated
stones in the oven, which she wrapped in towels and placed at Jack’s feet.
She robbed the other beds of blankets, observing: “They ain’t
nothin’ better fer an ailin’ man than a good sweat.”
“I’ll go for a doctor,” I said.
We roused the village physician, Doctor Hamsted, from his warm bed
and took him back to the cottage with us. Then we returned to the village once
more, so that I could telephone my father.
“Jack has been found?” Dad’s voice broke. “That’s the best news
I’ve heard in a thousand years.”
“He’s in bad shape, Dad,” I said. “Doctor Hamsted is examining him
now. I’m afraid of the verdict.”
“You stay there until I can come, Jane. We’ll have Jack moved to
the Greenville hospital, and not spare the expense.”
When we returned to Mud Cat Joe’s cottage, Doctor Hamsted was just
leaving.
“How is he, doctor?” I asked.
“His condition is grave. The man has suffered a great shock.”
“But he will recover?”
“He has a chance unless pneumonia should develop. However, his
mind—” Doctor Hamsted gave a little shake of the head. “Well, he may improve
after a lengthy rest. We will hope for the best. Have you any idea what happened
to him?”
“We don’t know, Doctor. He was struggling in the river when we
found him.”
“From the wound on his head, I assume he was struck a hard blow
with a blunt object. The skull is not fractured. At least it appears so.”
“My father is coming from Greenville,” I said. “He plans to take
Mr. Bancroft to the hospital at once.”
“That would not be advisable, in my opinion. You will do the
patient more harm by moving him than by allowing him to remain.”
“But facilities are so limited here, Doctor.”
“Perhaps within twenty-four hours he may be transferred to a
hospital,” said Doctor Hamsted, “but certainly not tonight. I shall try to
locate a nurse. In the meanwhile, will you remain here?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I have explained to Mrs. Gains about the medicine. There is very
little that can be done except to give the patient complete rest.”
I stayed up for the remainder of the night by Jack’s bedside.
Jack’s head had been neatly bandaged, and the white wrappings accentuated the
ashen color of his skin. It was like looking at a stranger. The man on the bed
did not seem like Jack Bancroft.
Jennie Gains closed off the doors leading to the bedroom, and
herded her children into the other chamber, insisting that they create no
disturbance.
An unnatural silence fell upon the little cottage. Now and then I
heard Mud Cat Joe or his wife tiptoe across the kitchen floor, but they did not
enter the room where Jack lay.
The only light came from the oil lamp on the dresser, which cast
grotesque shadows on the plaster walls. At infrequent intervals, Jack stirred,
muttering words which I could not understand.
Flo was asleep in an armchair, but I sat with folded hands,
watching Jack, my heart leaping into my throat every time he made the slightest
movement. I wished the nurse would come.
I heard a sound outside the window. Someone was walking along the
gravel path. It was probably the nurse, I thought, although I had not heard a
car drive up. It could not be my father. There had not been time for him to
reach White Falls.
I reached over to rearrange
the blanket which Jack’s fluttering hands had disturbed. I sat back down again,
listening for the nurse to enter the house. I felt uneasy as if I were being
watched by hostile eyes.
It was just nerves, I told myself, but when I looked again at the
room’s only small window, bare of curtains, I stiffened in my chair. Someone
was outside looking in.
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