The Charlotte Series: Book 3: The Pretender's Gold

SECTION XVIII-Surprise 46

CHAPTER 46

Caught in a moment of caring, the boy jumped back with a sniffle. His gruff manner returned as he swiped the moisture from his face with a dirty sleeve.

"I was just getting used to you and then you up and get yourself hurt. I don't want to have to find me a new pa again is all."

Another look passed between Stuart and Richard.

Richard smiled at the very dirty little boy in front of him. He was so dirty that his tears made mud smears instead of clean streaks. The boy was starved-thin and his clothes thread-bare rags. Richard frowned slightly—he smelled awful. His lips curled into a smile as he realized the latter was probably him.

"I need a bath, and a shave, and clean clothes. Then I'm going to eat until my gut busts and THEN I'm going to sleep like the de—"

"Miss Dorcas made biscuits but they're sort of crumbly. You have to wash them down with lots of milk."

"Beck, I'm so hungry I could eat my hat" Richard laughed. "Dry biscuits sound pretty good to me."

Beck chuckled.

"Come on then." Beck started off never doubting Richard would follow.

"I guess I'll be back for my stitches later." Richard laughed as he turned to follow.

---

Richard approached his meeting with Lane with somewhat less gusto than he had attacked his dinner. He wanted to get clean, but decided a bath could wait until after the stitches.

"No sense in getting blood all over a clean body." He shrugged at Beck as they went to the same empty room Stuart was patched up in.

"All right, my lord." Lane pointed to the bed. "Take off your pants and lay down so I can get a look."

Beck snickered and Richard gave him a wink.

"Careful Lane." Richard chuckled as he shucked his ruined pants and winced when it passed over the wound. "A body might think you enjoy this."

"I admit, my lord," Lane smiled cheekily as Richard limped over to sit on the bed and stretch out his leg. "It's not often I get to LORD it over my lord!"

"That was dreadful." Richard's laughed died quickly as Lane poured whiskey over the wound and began to poke at it. "Watch it!" Richard growled as Lane touched a particularly tender spot.

"You are lucky, my lord." Lane shrugged as he reached for a rag dipped in warm soapy water.

"A bullet in the leg could shatter bone, or become lodged deep in the muscle. You, however, suffered only a deep graze." He began to gently clean away the crusted blood and dirt from around the wound.

"So, I'm just to suffer stiches then?" Richard sighed. His fingers gripped the quilting as he tried to hold still and suffer the ministrations.

"If you are careful, my lord." Lane said as he continued to clean the wound, "If you keep it clean and rest the limb, you should be able to recover sufficiently with only a scar. I shall endeavor to keep my stitches to a minimum, my lord."

"That is good news." Richard sighed then hissed when a bit of the soap dripped into his wound. "I do hate needles. Especially when they are applied to my person."

"You will need to keep the wound dry when I am finished." Lane frowned as he tugged a stitch. "No bathtubs."

"That is unfortunate." Richard hissed through his teeth. His eyes watered and his fists clenched the sheets but as bad as this felt now, he still had his pride. He had no aversion to tears, but compared to some that he'd suffered, this was minor, and then of course, he wanted to be brave in front of Beck—so he turned to humor. "As you can attest to, I am in dire need of a bath."