Saving the Rifleman

by Julie Rowe

  * * *

  No one was in sight, so Maria scurried toward the nearest surgical suite. A room small enough to be kept meticulously clean, but large enough to allow a doctor and one or two nurses to perform surgery.

  On the shelves were all the tools and chemicals necessary, including two jars of ether. She took one and a fist full of homemade bandages then headed for the door.

  Out in the hall, one of the German orderlies came from the opposite direction. She smiled and nodded as she passed him, praying he wouldn’t notice her shaking hands.

  He returned the smile and kept walking.

  She reached the nurses’ room and slipped inside.

  Her soldier and the German officer remained exactly as she’d left them, but as she closed the door her soldier wobbled badly. The German wavered as if about to move, but her soldier recovered and held his pistol steady once more.

  Maria locked the door and put down the bottle and cloth.

  She went to her cupboard, found her dressing gown and removed the belt. She walked toward the German officer.

  His nostrils flared and his hands flexed.

  “Reach for her and you die.”

  The German’s lips twisted into a scornful jeer. “You won’t get far, and when I find you, you’ll wish you had put a bullet in me.”

  “Oh, do shut up.” Maria bound his hands behind his back. She used her father’s favourite knot then gave him a small push toward the wardrobe. He went inside with great reluctance.

  She picked up the bottle of ether and dribbled some on one of the bandages. “On your knees.”

  He hesitated then lowered himself to the floor. She pressed the bandage against his nose and mouth, careful to keep it as far away from herself as possible. A few seconds would keep him unconscious for a while, but as soon as he woke, they’d be in danger again. Too long could kill him.

  She would do almost anything to protect the British lieutenant, but the thought of killing an unarmed man made her hand shake.

  She looked at her soldier.

  His answering smile trembled and he blinked several times.

  The German fell on to his back and Maria had to jerk her attention back to him to keep the bandage on his face. A few more seconds was all he’d need to stay asleep for some time. She glanced over her shoulder to find her British soldier pitching dangerously forward.

  She dropped the cloth and sprang to catch him, holding him up for the barest of seconds before his weight bore her to the floor.

  Panting, she strained to keep him from hitting his head as she eased him down and managed to roll him on to his back without causing further injury.

  Her hand found his neck, his pulse strong and steady. Breathing out in relief, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his chest.

  That had been a close thing, but there was no time to take stock, no time to delay.

  She had work to do.

  Maria removed the bloody, dirt-covered bandage from around his leg and examined the wound. A bullet had punctured the muscle of his lower thigh, leaving a hole through the front and back. From the amount of blood on the fabric of his trousers, it had bled quite a bit, which was good. There was no evidence of excessive swelling or redness around the wound, meaning it was likely clean. At least for now. It would need stitching, but she didn’t have time for that.

  Someone would come looking for either her or the German officer soon. And her soldier was lying in the middle of the room. In plain sight of anyone opening the door.

  Somehow she had to get him safely hidden away.

  Chapter Three

  Maria sucked in and exhaled a deep breath and wiped her hands on her apron. To get her soldier out of Belgium safely would take some doing. She needed help.

  She found Rose down the hall with Dr. Geoff, their heads close together, looking at some papers.

  “Excuse me, Nurse Culver, may I speak with you in private?”

  “Is it urgent?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “A patient?” Dr. Geoff asked.

  “No, sir.” Maria hesitated. “It’s a personal matter.”

  “Very well.” Rose turned to Dr. Geoff. “If you will excuse me, sir.”

  “Of course.”

  Maria led the way to the sleeping chamber. She opened the door to let Rose in then closed and locked it.

  Rose’s eyes widened at the sight of the soldier. “How did he get in here?”

  “I found him in the hall closet as those German soldiers were searching the hospital.”

  “Are you certain he’s British? I’ve heard reports that Germans have started posing as British or French soldiers in an attempt to discover who’s helping them get out of the country.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Several members of our group here in Brussels were arrested last week. We have to be very careful.”

  “He’s been shot. Do you think a German would go that far to pretend to be a British soldier?”

  “I don’t know.” Rose took several steps toward him. “How badly is he wounded?”

  “A bullet through the thigh. It’s fresh. I only took a quick look when I changed the bandage. It needs sewing up, but I saw no sign of infection. He should be able to manage on it.” Maria considered him, lying motionless on the floor. “I believe he’s British. His manner, speech and deportment are all too genuine to be the product of lies.”

  “All right then, let him sleep. Tomorrow morning we’ll get some clothes for him and if his leg is well enough, get him on his way.”

  Maria winced. “He’s not actually the biggest problem.”

  “Oh?”

  She went to the closet and opened the door, revealing the German officer unconscious on the floor.

  Rose’s jaw dropped. “Oh dear.”

  “He came in here and questioned me. He would have hurt me had the Brit not stopped him.”

  “This is a disaster.” Rose shook her head.

  Tears flooded Maria’s eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

  “What’s done is done, we’ll have to muddle through.” Rose met her gaze. “This officer saw you? Questioned you?”

  Maria nodded.

  “What happened to him?”

  “The Brit guarded him while I used ether to knock him unconscious.”

  One of Rose’s brows rose. “You’re going to have to leave with the soldier, help him across the border.”

  Maria opened her mouth to protest, but Rose held up a hand. “No, there’s no way I can protect you from that one.” She nodded at the German. “You must go.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine. But this will mean trouble for the hospital, unless we do something…inventive.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think our German friend here is going to be a bit of an embarrassment to his superiors. If we douse him in brandy and have his men find him in the kitchen panty with a half-empty bottle, no one is likely to believe a nonexistent British soldier was here.” She turned and regarded Maria. “And you are going to run off. I’ll concoct a story about you following a soldier you met or some such nonsense.”

  Maria blinked tears away. “Rose, I don’t want to leave you.”

  “You must. I’m not happy about it either, but you’ll be arrested if you stay and everyone else here will be suspect. We must do our duty. Both of us.”

  “It’s more than duty and you know it,” Maria said with a watery smile for her friend.

  Rose smiled back. “Indeed. Let’s shift the Brit out of the way and get him covered up. Then we can move the German officer out of the closet and into the kitchen.”

  Maria grabbed a blanket and with Rose’s help, rolled the British soldier onto it. Then the two women dragged him over to Maria’s corner of the room, pushed him up against the wall and covered him with more blankets. Now he looked like an unmade pallet.

  They walked to the closet and looked down at the German officer.

  �
��How are we going to get him to the kitchen?” Maria asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  A knock at the door had both women staring at it.

  “Nurse Culver?” Came a polite query through the wood. Someone tried the knob. “Are you all right?”

  “It’s Dr. Geoff. What do we do?”

  Rose contemplated the question for two full seconds. “Have you ever played cards?”

  “What?” Maria stared at her mentor. “No. My father used to, but mother made him stop. We didn’t have enough money as it was.”

  “Well, I’m going to do something called a bluff.”

  “My father was never very good at that…are you sure it’s wise?”

  Rose didn’t answer as she walked to the door and opened it wide. “I’m terribly sorry, doctor, but Maria is distraught.”

  “About what?”

  Maria couldn’t see him, but she could hear the impatience in the doctor’s voice.

  “Perhaps it would be best if I showed you.” She stepped back and gestured him into the room.

  He did, glanced at Maria then stared at the officer lying on the floor of the closet behind her.

  “What’s this?”

  “He attacked her,” Rose explained.

  Dr. Geoff pinned Maria in place with a sharp look. “He what?”

  She swallowed and nodded. “He accused me of having special favourites among the wounded…like…like some whore.” She was talking too fast, but she couldn’t seem to stop her tongue from tripping over the words coming out of her mouth. “He…he grabbed me and shook me and I think he would have h-hurt me if I hadn’t knocked him out.”

  As she spoke, Dr. Geoff walked over to look at the officer’s face. “I know this man. He’s responsible for the deaths of two physicians, friends of mine, who refused to torture a couple of captured soldiers. This demon had them shot for treason or some such sheisse. Only my family’s station and military connections saved me from the same.” The doctor leaned down to check his pulse. “You’re lucky you were able to defend yourself, nurse. This man has no morals whatsoever. What were you going to do with him?”

  Rose cleared her throat. “Well, I thought if we could get him into the kitchen we could have him discovered in our brandy stores. He’d be disgraced.”

  Dr. Geoff stared at her unblinking for a moment. “Please, let me help.”

  “If we’re caught we could all suffer the consequences.”

  “Then there’s no time to waste.” He looked at Maria. “Go check the hall and make sure it’s clear. Nurse Culver, would you mind taking hold of his feet? I think I can manage the rest of him.”

  Maria dashed off to see if any of the other staff members were about, but none were visible. She glanced back to see Dr. Geoff wrap his arms under the German officer’s torso and Rose grab his feet. Maria waved at them to follow.

  She checked the stairs; they too were clear. She waved again and scampered down to the next floor. The stairs opened very close to the kitchen. Unfortunately, two of the other nurses, one Belgian and the other German, were having a cup of tea. She quickly sent them on errands, the Belgian to gather up some fresh linen, the German to check their food stores of apples and potatoes in the back shed.

  Both women left and Maria was able to wave Dr. Geoff and Rose into the kitchen. They kept their alcohol in a small pantry off the kitchen, along with other valuable items, more vegetables, flour and honey. They laid the officer down and Rose opened a bottle of brandy and dumped some of it on his clothes, as if he’d gotten so inebriated he’d missed his mouth.

  “Is there anything more we should do?” Maria asked.

  Dr. Geoff’s grin was positively evil. “Singe his privates to wake him up?”

  “You really don’t like him, do you?”

  “No. Unfortunately, there’s no shortage of his kind.”

  Rose smiled gently at Maria. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I think so. Why?”

  “Your hands are shaking.”

  Maria looked at them. They were vibrating at an alarming speed. “Oh, well I…”

  “You’ve had a shock,” Rose continued. “I think a good night’s sleep will do you a world of good.”

  “What if more wounded arrive?”

  “I promise to call if we need the help.”

  “Go,” Dr. Geoff ordered. “Nurse Culver is correct. We need you rested and ready to work.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll come and check on you in a little while,” Rose said.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Maria walked back up the stairs and stopped at the storage closet for a few items. If the British soldier was still unconscious it would be a good time to sew up his leg. She also needed to get him out of as much of his uniform as possible, in case someone found him or walked in while she was treating him. She had perhaps thirty minutes before any of the other nurses came back to the room.

  A needle, thread, small knife and bandages would be needed, and she would have to clean the wound with soap and water before sewing it up. There was water and soap stored in the surgical suite, along with all the other items. She was able to bring a bowl full of clean tepid water without seeing anyone along the way.

  She set everything next to her soldier, locked the door so no one could surprise her and pulled the blankets away from him. It was impossible to get his jacket off. Mud had caked and dried on to his buttons, cementing them to the fabric, and she had little time. She left it and avoided wrestling with the fabric by cutting the pant leg off. Blood had congealed, gluing the cloth down to his skin. A little water helped soak it off.

  He didn’t stir at all, not even when she manipulated his arms and legs, rolling him from side to side to get his trousers off. Underneath, he wore a pair of long underwear, which was easy enough to cut away so she could get at his wound.

  His trousers would have to be burned—they burned ruined bits of uniforms regularly, and it was unlikely anyone would notice one addition.

  Washing his injured leg took time and attention, with special care to soak the entry and exit wounds first, allowing the clots to soften. Tearing them off could open the wounds wider and cause more bleeding than he could spare. The area around the wounds didn’t appear to be overly swollen or red. Hopefully he’d be free of infection.

  She sewed the exit wound first, as it was larger, then closed the entry wound. After packing them with clean bandages, she wrapped another around his entire thigh to keep everything in place.

  She was about to take her knife to his uniform pants, but remembered to check his pockets first and found two pictures. One of her soldier with what must be his family. Father, mother, two brothers and a sister. The sister was obviously the youngest, but as Maria compared the photo to his face, she guessed he was the third son. Their clothing looked of excellent quality, the furnishings in the background expensive.

  The second photo was of the sister, only several years older. She smiled at the camera as if the photographer had surprised her at a happy moment. Maria turned the photo over. Genevieve, June 28, 1913.

  Maria carefully put the pictures aside. She found a few coins, a button—possibly from his jacket cuff—and a piece of torn paper with the hospital address on it. After checking the rest of his clothing to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, she shredded his pants with her knife.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Yes?” She prayed it wasn’t the German nurse.

  “It’s Rose.”

  Maria opened the door and Rose slipped inside, a bundle of cloth in her hands. “How is he?”

  “Still unconscious. He didn’t wake at all through sewing up his wounds.”

  “Any concerns?”

  “No sign of infection.”

  Rose handed her the bundle and a small bottle. “Wake him with this and get him into these clothes. Once he’s up and dressed, move him to the isolation room. I’m telling everyone he has yellow fever and you’ve decided it’
s too dangerous here and gone home.”

  “I’ll hide in the closet then.”

  “Our closets are getting a great deal of use these days.” Rose went to the door. “I’ll be by the isolation room later with water and soup. Hurry.”

  As soon as Rose was gone, Maria tucked the needle and knife, along with the bandage she hadn’t used, into the pocket of her dress. She knelt beside her soldier, cupping his face in her hands. “Wake up,” she whispered in his ear. “Please wake up.”

  He didn’t stir.

  Pressing her lips together, she shook his shoulders. “You have to wake up, please, before we’re discovered.”

  He groaned and tossed his head, but still didn’t wake.

  She opened the bottle Rose had given her and waved it under his nose.

  He coughed then opened his eyes, and she suddenly found herself seized by the shoulders and dragged across his lap, his hands bringing her nose-to-nose with him.

  The only sound in the room was their breathing, her sight filled with his eyes, green and bottomless.

  Heat unfurled in her belly, making her gasp.

  He frowned and his grip relaxed. “Maria?”

  Relief had her grinning and bracing her free hand on his chest. “You remember.”

  “Yes, what—” His gaze darted over the room, falling on the open closet. “What happened? Is he—?”

  “He’s in the kitchen pantry. We dosed him with brandy. He’ll be discovered there shortly.”

  “Discovered… Soldiers are looking for him?”

  “Not yet, but soon.”

  “Will we be safe?” His gaze came back to her face and she realized she was half lying on him, her breath mingling with his. She shifted, bumping his injured thigh, and he winced. “My leg feels like it’s on fire.”

  She pulled out of his embrace with a reluctance she feared to question. “That’s because I sewed it closed and bound it.” She stood, recapped the bottle and held out her hand to him. “You’ll be happy to know the bullet went straight through and didn’t appear to take anything important with it.”

  He took her hand and she helped him stand. He wavered.