Wanted Dead

2

       The young woman returned with her father in mere moments, Sol's pack no longer slung over her shoulder the assassin noted. He felt his anxiety wash away. If she didn't have his pack anymore that meant that neither her or her father had had enough time to look through it. Sol was going to make sure they didn't with whatever it took.

Both father and daughter wore the same concerned expression though their resemblance was hardly noticeable. They shared the same dark wavy hair, though her father's was tied at the back of his neck like a ducktail. The father was tall and slight in figure, structured entirely of hard angles gentled by his soft, weathered skin. His dark eyes held the sorrows, the love and the wisdom of a man experienced more than he had lived.

"River, keep him still and stop the bleeding! I'll be back in half an hour with the physician. Don't let him move," The girl's father spoke hurriedly before turning away from Sol and dashing out the front door.

"Please wait here," River said to him before running out of the room.

Sol was left alone again for a minute before she returned. Her bonnet was gone and her hair was piled atop her head in a plain updo. She had rolled her sleeves up and tied her skirts back so that they brushed the top of her black riding boots. In her hands was a thick linen.

Kneeling before Sol she looked up at him, jade eyes wide and intense,"This is going to hurt. I'm sorry."

With that she grabbed hold of his boot and slowly pulled it off his leg. Sol cried out as if he had just been burned, his knuckles flushed white as he gripped the arms of the chair he sat in. The blood that had been dribbling from his boot was running like a lush stream out of the puncture wounds. Sol grimaced at the sight. This injury was much worse than the poisonous snake bite he had experienced when he was seventeen. River winced and that grabbed his leg with the linen and lifted it into her lap. She wrapped the linen round and around until it tightly bound his calf and he could no longer feel circulation.

River placed her hands on either side of his leg where red blood was beginning to spot the linen. She pressed down hard and Sol grunted, his leg jolting a little. River pressed harder, pressing her abdomen into his socked foot to keep his leg still.

Sol always carried a knife in his left boot. If the bear trap had caught his left leg than only one side of him would have been injured. Of course, if that leg had been caught then in this moment River would have seen his knife. There was absolutely no winning in this situation and Sol cursed every god of every religion he had ever heard of. The fates were certainly punishing him for all his sins.

"Where's my pack?" He drawled, his breath labored and his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"Oh...I left it...um, in the back hall," The frown on her face was a forgetful one and Sol felt frustration at her uncertainty.

"I need it," He said.

"I'll get it for you as soon as the bleeding has stopped," She assured, lifting her hands to check the linen. A giant splotch of blood the size of her hands lay on either side of his calf.

"I'm fine," He said, trying to pull away.

"Stop!" She cried sharply, pulling on his ankle and trapping his foot between her thighs. Sol let out a pained grunt, slapping the arm of the chair as his leg ached in a nauseating way.

"I'm sorry but you have to stay still," River's voice was much gentler now and her jade eyes had softened into this sweet, womanly lilt. It was the look you would see in someone deeply concerned with the health and safety of others, whether that was a nurse or a mid-wife. It was the look his mother, a former mid-wife had worn.