to be gathered. The surgeon was merely the first step.
“How long has the surgeon been working on him?”
“Almost two hours,” Rye answered. “As soon as he got here, I came to find you.”
“Thank you, Rye. Might I make a list of items we’ll need in the coming days? Perhaps you and Cooper could see about procuring them for me.”
Rye’s face lightened, a weary smile breaking free. “I knew bringing you here was exactly what he needed.”
Goodness, she hoped so. She would definitely fight tooth and nail to keep him alive. “He might not agree once he’s awake.”
“He needs you,” Rye said. “Don’t ever let him convince you otherwise.”
The door opened, preventing her from responding. They all turned to see a bearded man with spectacles emerge from Jack’s bedroom. Dr. Moore. He did not appear surprised to find a small group gathered in the hall. He placed a black bag on the ground and began unrolling his cuffs. She could see dark marks and scars on the inside of his arm.
“I’m finished,” Moore said without much enthusiasm. “The bullet nicked him, so I’ve sewn that up and removed the glass. He has some sutures that’ll need to come out in a week or so. Laudanum for the pain as needed. Have him stay abed as long as possible, if you can manage it.”
“So, he’s going to live?” Justine held her breath, too hopeful to exhale.
“Indeed he shall, miss. Do not worry about Mulligan. He’ll live to swindle and blackmail for a good long time.”
“Thank Christ,” Rye muttered, and even Cooper smiled.
Relief poured through her, until she remembered how many patients died after surgery. “What about infection?”
Moore’s gaze turned hard as he examined her. “I washed my hands and all my equipment has been sterilized in antiseptic. This is not my first surgery, miss. Perhaps you’d like to check my sutures?”
She would be doing exactly that, but didn’t bother to say so. “I apologize, Dr. Moore. Not every doctor goes to such lengths, however.”
Moore ignored her and focused on Rye. “Tell him this makes us even. If the wound starts to ooze or he runs a high fever, come and get me. Otherwise, we better never see each other ever again.”
“Appreciate it, Doctor. Do you want me to take you—?”
“God, no. I’ll find my own way home.” Pushing through them, Moore disappeared down the corridor.
Justine didn’t wait. She hurried inside Jack’s room. He was pale, flat on his back, and there were drops of blood on the floor. However, he was breathing, his chest slowly moving up and down. That would have to do for now.
Moore had tossed strips of bloody cloth and Jack’s ruined clothing to the corner of the room. “Get rid of those,” she told Cooper. “Burn it all. Then wash your hands with soap.”
To Rye, she said, “We need to get him on clean sheets. Do you know where to find those?”
“Aye. I’ll be back.”
A big basin of red water was on top of the dresser, clearly where Moore had washed up. Blood had never bothered her before, but this was Jack’s blood. Seeing it had her gut cramping, sweat breaking out on the back of her neck. Someone had shot at him.
She went to his side and placed her hand on his head. The warmth of his skin sank into her fingers, reassuring her, and she closed her eyes to let the rest of her worry recede. While her sisters believed her naive, Justine was not. She was well aware of the danger surrounding Jack and his position in this city. Yet, she hadn’t expected him to suffer a gunshot in broad daylight.
Rye returned with clean sheets, which they quickly got under Jack. She then cleaned the room with the help of Rye and Cooper, scrubbing the floors and the bloody basin. After, she made a list of things for Cooper to purchase for Jack’s recovery. She also sent word to Florence that she was nursing a sick friend tonight. It wasn’t unheard of, so the statement shouldn’t bring about too much suspicion.
Then, she sat at his bedside. There was nothing to do but wait.
It took him three days before he was able to get out of bed. His body ached, sore everywhere, but he pushed through the pain. He’d refused laudanum, even when he couldn’t sleep. Jack could not appear weak. Strength and cunning were everything in his line of work.
He’d sent Justine home to rest yesterday, though she’d argued against it. For two days she