PART 2 — THE SECRET BENEATH THE SтιтCHES

“We may already be too late.”

Clara’s words hung in the cabin like a death sentence.

Caleb gripped Ethan’s hand. Holt stood motionless, his face drained of color, while Jesse rushed toward the stove with another kettle of water.

“Do something!” Holt demanded.

Clara didn’t answer.

She placed two fingers against Ethan’s neck, searching for the faint pulse. It was there, but barely.

“Caleb, hold his shoulders. Holt, keep the lamp close. Jesse, bring me the cleanest cloth in this cabin.”

“What are you going to do?” Caleb asked.

“Give him a chance.”

She lowered the scissors.

The first sтιтch came free.

Then the second.

Clara worked carefully, refusing to let the trembling in her hands control her. The skin around the wound was swollen and discolored. When the final sтιтch was removed, the wound began to drain, revealing the terrible truth: the infection had been sealed beneath the surface, with no proper way to escape.

Holt turned his face away.

“Lord have mercy.”

Clara examined the wound under the lamplight.

Something was wrong.

There was a narrow strip of dark material lodged deep beneath the damaged tissue. It wasn’t part of Ethan’s clothing. It looked like a piece of fabric from a dressing.

“Caleb,” she said, “did the doctor use anything unusual when he treated Ethan?”

Caleb frowned.

“He had a leather medical bag. He told us not to touch anything while he worked.”

“Did anyone else enter the room?”

“No.”

Clara looked at the dark fragment again.

“Then how did this get inside the wound?”

Before Caleb could answer, Ethan suddenly groaned.

His fingers тιԍнтened around Clara’s wrist.

“North ridge…”

She leaned closer.

“Ethan? Can you hear me?”

His eyes opened halfway.

“Don’t… trust…”

His voice disappeared into a weak breath.

“Don’t trust who?” Clara asked.

But Ethan had already slipped unconscious again.

Clara continued working under Dr. Porter’s instructions, who had arrived after Jesse finally reached the neighboring settlement. He was an older physician with tired eyes and a reputation for honesty.

Unlike Hargrove, he didn’t question Clara’s knowledge or mock her methods.

He examined the wound and became unusually quiet.

“Who closed this?” he asked.

“Dr. Hargrove,” Caleb answered.

Porter stared at the wound.

“Then I need to speak with him.”

“Why?” Holt demanded.

“Because this was not a simple mistake.”

He carefully examined the dark fragment Clara had discovered.

“This material shouldn’t be here. And judging by the swelling, Ethan has been fighting an infection for days.”

Clara glanced toward the window.

“Can he survive?”

Porter looked at Ethan, then at her.

“If we can control the infection and keep him stable, he has a chance. But I won’t lie to you. It’s a narrow one.”

For the next several hours, the cabin became a makeshift treatment room.

Clara followed Porter’s directions, preparing clean supplies and helping him monitor Ethan. Caleb kept the fire burning. Jesse changed the water. Holt sat beside the table, speaking to his friend as if his voice alone could keep him alive.

“You remember that winter near the Powder River?” Holt murmured. “You dragged me out of a frozen creek when I couldn’t feel my legs. Said I owed you a bottle of whiskey.”

He swallowed hard.

“You never collected.”

Clara glanced at him.

“He’ll have to collect when he wakes.”

Holt looked at her.

“You really believe that?”

“I believe we haven’t finished fighting for him.”

Just before dawn, Ethan’s breathing became more regular.

Dr. Porter checked his pulse twice.

Then he looked at Clara.

“He’s responding.”

For the first time that night, she allowed herself to breathe.

But the relief didn’t last.

A loud knock struck the cabin door.

Everyone turned.

A man stood outside, his coat covered in snow.

It was Dr. Hargrove.

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

“What have you done to my patient?”

Holt immediately rose.

“Your patient? You nearly buried him!”

Hargrove ignored him and moved toward the table.

His eyes fell on the opened wound.

“You had no right to remove my sтιтches!”

Clara stood between him and Ethan.

“Those sтιтches were trapping infection.”

“You are not a physician.”

“No,” Clara replied. “But I know the difference between a wound healing and a man dying.”

Dr. Porter stepped forward.

“I would like to know why there was foreign material inside this wound.”

Hargrove’s face changed.

Only for a second.

But Clara saw it.

“What material?” he asked.

Porter held up the small dark fragment.

Hargrove stared at it.

Then he reached for it.

Porter pulled his hand away.

“I’ll keep this as evidence.”

Hargrove’s voice hardened.

“You have no idea what you’re interfering with.”

Clara looked directly at him.

“Perhaps you should explain that to the sheriff.”

The doctor said nothing.

Instead, he turned toward the door.

Before leaving, he looked at Clara with an expression that sent a chill through her.

“You should have stayed out of this, Miss Whitmore.”

Then he disappeared into the storm.

Holt moved toward the window.

“I’m going after him.”

“No,” Clara said.

Everyone turned.

“He came here expecting something. And now he knows we found it.”

Dr. Porter slowly nodded.

“She’s right. We need to understand what happened before anyone makes another move.”

Clara looked down at Ethan.

His eyes had opened.

He was awake enough to hear them.

And when he finally spoke, he said three words.

“Crowe sent him.”