skilled workers who would train the recovered men in various occupations, helping them to leave Laurelwood and make their own way in the world.
Morrison led them in rounds after that so that Dr. Robinson could examine each individual. Dalinda liked the doctor’s easy yet professional manner with the men. He didn’t brag about his war experience but when it came out in conversation, she saw each former soldier felt a greater connection with him than they had the local doctor, who only came around infrequently and hadn’t seemed sympathetic to their plights.
The bullet wound to Wharton’s leg was healing nicely. Hensley, who still ran a slight fever, was suffering from jaundice. He still experienced pains in his missing right arm, which Dr. Robinson explained to him was called phantom pain.
“They seem as real as anything,” the physician said. “You feel the limb burn. Tingle. You may have these shooting pains for weeks or even months—or they might disappear tomorrow. The point is when a pain strikes, you should look anywhere except where your arm once was. I have discovered in working with other soldiers who were haunted by phantom pain that physical activity can take your mind off the ache. Also, anything that can serve as a distraction helps. Try any activity. Eating. Talking to someone. Something that will keep you from fretting about the hurt.”
Hensley nodded. “I understand, Doctor. That is good advice.”
They reached Pimmel, who was missing his left eye and was the one Dalinda had mentioned who had the leg that wasn’t healing properly. Dr. Robinson evaluated the eye socket first and found the cauterization had prevented any infection. He recommended Pimmel continue to wear the eye patch and discussed some exercises with him that would help him with his balance as he viewed the world from a single eye.
Then the physician moved to examine the injured leg. Pimmel winced the entire time, gritting his teeth, tender to any touch.
“I am afraid that the leg will have to come off, young man,” the physician said. “Immediately.”
“Why?” the young private asked, agony on his face and present in his voice as his lone eye brimmed with tears. “It’s bad enough I’m missing an eye. I won’t be a man without my leg.”
Dr. Robinson said bluntly, “You won’t be a man at all, Mr. Pimmel. You will be a corpse lying in a grave if I don’t take your limb within the hour. It’s your choice. Life—or death.”
The room had grown silent and the doctor’s stern words echoed through the room. Dalinda held her breath as she watched Pimmel’s indecision.
“You’ve told me you enjoy carpentry, Pimmel,” Rhys said. “I could use another carpenter on the estate. I am thinking about starting a horse breeding operation and, in time, will need to expand my stables. I can promise you if you learn the trade, there will be plenty of work for you.”
She saw Rhys’ words had an effect and that they would influence Pimmel enough so that Dr. Robinson might save the veteran’s life.
“You’d hire me, my lord? Even with one eye and one leg?”
Rhys chuckled. “I hired Morrison, didn’t I? You are a far sight prettier than he is.”
Pimmel stared a moment—and then burst out laughing. Soon, laughter filled the entire ballroom. Dalinda saw that Rhys had gotten through to the young man.
“All right,” Pimmel said. “I agree. Let’s do it. Now.”
Dr. Robinson glanced around and then back to her. “Your Grace, I would like to use one of the bedchambers as my surgery,” he said quietly. “While I have morphine to give my patient, I think it best if there’s no audience during this amputation.”
“I can assist you,” Morrison volunteered.
“I will help, too, Father,” Miss Robinson said. “Mrs. Nathan can start with the men here.”
The physician turned to Morrison, telling him what would be needed in order for the room to be prepared. He excused himself, taking his daughter and medical bag to the bedchamber they would use.
Rhys shook hands with Pimmel. “I expect a swift recovery.”
Pimmel grinned. “I am motivated by knowing I will have a job when this is over, my lord. I hate losing my leg but I’d rather live to be an old man without one than die at nineteen.”
Once Pimmel had been carried from the ballroom, Dalinda told Rhys she wanted to stay a while.
“They aren’t saying it, but I know they are worried about their friend’s surgery,” she said. “I think it best to try and take their minds off what is