"You asked for the burns pack."
"But why did you have to bring it down? Aren't there any suitable dumb young men willing to slide down a rope with a pack on their back?"
"Sure, but . . ."
"So why didn't you let one of them carry the pack?"
"Because the Richard Peeke doesn't have enough lift to carry an extra man, and the ground crew needed to secure the landing lines as quickly as possible."
That all sounded too sensible, and carefully thought out. Annamarie looked her husband in the eyes. Yes, he looked guilty. Her mother's instincts started screaming at her. Surely he hadn't . . . "Where's Jacob?" Annamarie asked, very, very slowly.
John pointed toward the front of the gondola. "He's still aboard."
She scanned the airship until she made out Jacob. She desperately wanted to climb that rope and reassure herself that her son was safe. "Why did you have to bring him back?"
"I couldn't make him miss maybe his only chance to fly in an airship, could I? Besides, someone needs to bring your horses back," John said.
Her husband was on thin ice. As far as she was concerned, there was no reason for Jacob to ever travel in something as dangerous as an airship. However, it was a done deal, and there wasn't anything she could do about it now, not when there were patients to deal with. "We'll talk about this later. Meanwhile, I have one dead crew member and the two other crew members have second-degree burns. They also have third-degree burns on their hands and where their clothes burnt. And six of the villagers suffered minor burns fighting the fire."
John indicated the two surviving crewmen, currently bundled up in blankets. "Is it safe to move them?"
"Yes, but it'll be rough getting them up to the gondola."
"Nah, take on some ballast, vent some gas, and they can bring her right down to the ground. It's one reason I suggested they should use the Richard Peeke."
"And getting a ride on an airship had nothing to do with it. Yeah, right. Leave me the burns kit and I'll start running fluids while you get the airship down to loading height."
****
Juan de Aguilera stood clear as the first casualty was carried aboard on the "rescue stretcher" that had been made to the up-timers' specifications soon after they discovered that there was plywood being produced for the duke's proposed rigid airship. It had slots for hand-holds cut into the wood, which made it a lot easier to move than the hurdle he'd been carried on when he broke his leg.
The woman, the doctor, passed an inverted bottle in a wicker basket connected by a string of something to the patient to her husband before returning for the next patient. Juan looked over John's shoulder, but he couldn't identify the man through the bandages that covered his face. He shuddered at the realization that the man was likely to be horribly scarred for life.
"Hold this," John said, passing Juan the wicker basket.
He was able to see that it was a tube that connected the bottle to the patient's forearm. "What is it?"
"It's an intravenous drip. We have to keep the patient's volume up; otherwise he'll go into shock." John got to his feet and held out a hand for the bottle.
Juan watched John tie it to a part of the gondola frame. That was barely done before the doctor returned with the next patient. While the up-timers dealt with him, the rest of the crew loaded the blanket wrapped body of the third crewman. He stared blankly at the wrapped figure, wondering which of the Pepino's crew it might be.
"Right. Don Juan, we're ready to go."
Juan throttled up the engines and waved to the ground team to let go the lines. The Richard Peeke started to drift, and then the thrust of the engines took control. Juan waved goodbye to the crew members who'd been left behind because they'd had to vent gas to get down to the ground, and set course for the clinic.
Two weeks later
Juan removed the special sterile coverings he'd been required to wear while visiting Fernando Lopez de Perez in a state of awe. Fernando and his colleague were recovering, and neither had scarring of the face. Sure, both of them had raw-looking faces that were leaking fluid, but the doctor had assured Juan that this was normal. She had even assured him that they should have full use of their hands.
"The Americans are amazing," Juan said to himself as he dropped the coverings onto the floor.
"Pick those up and put them in the basket where they are supposed to go."
Juan wasn't used to being spoken to in that tone. Actually, he wasn't used to being ordered around, period. However, the person giving orders was the midwife who'd attended Magdalida, and right now she appeared to be armed. He quickly picked up the coveralls and shoved them into the laundry basket she was gesturing toward. "What is that?" he asked, gesturing to her weapon.
The midwife went teary-eyed and drew the weapon against her chest. "This is a gift from God. It is a curette."
"And what is a curette?"
Her eyes shifted away from him.
"What is a curette, and why do you consider it a gift from God?" he demanded.
Maria backed away from Juan. "It is the tool I needed to save Magdalida."
The words hit Juan like a hammer blow. He reached out and grabbed Maria by the shoulders. "What do you mean, it is the tool you needed to save Magdalida?"
Maria tried to look away from Juan, but he was having none of that. He shook her. "What did you mean?"
"The doctor has taught me an up-time technique that could have stopped the bleeding."
Juan thrust Maria away. "You lie. Nothing could have saved Magdalida. Dr. Howard said so himself."
The midwife ran her hands over her shoulders where Juan had gripped them. "It's the truth. Magdalida died because I couldn't get her to deliver all of the afterbirth. Dr. Howard is Padua trained. He wouldn't have been aware of the new up-time medical knowledge. The up-time technique uses special tools to deliver the remaining afterbirth." She reached out a hand and rested it gently on Juan's shoulder. "I've just used the technique in a case similar to Magdalida's, and it stopped the bleeding."
Juan swallowed bile and stared at Maria. She had no reason to lie. A simple procedure-and surely it had to be simple if the up-timers could teach it to Maria-could have saved his wife. He could feel tears starting to run down his face.
A comforting arm went around his shoulders and directed his head into Maria's ample bosom, and he cried the tears that hadn't come three years ago.
****
Juana looked up when her eldest son entered the room. "Juan, you've met Anna Maria, haven't you?"
Juan approached to greet Anna Maria, and Juana saw his face clearly for the first time. "Is there something the matter?" Then she remembered he'd said he was going to visit the injured airmen at the clinic. "Has something happened to Don Fernando?"
Juan shook his head. "No. He and the student he was training are doing well."
She rose from her chair and reached up to touch the stains on her son's fashionable, wide, lace-edged collar. It was damp. There were smeared tear tracks running down his face-as if Juan had used his hands to wipe them away. Juana licked the end of her handkerchief and scrubbed at the tracks. "Then why have you been crying?"
"I ran into Maria the midwife at the clinic. She said . . ." Juan hiccupped and gently pushed Juana away, "that the up-timers have taught her a technique that could have saved Magdalida." The tears started flowing and Juan rushed off.
"Is everything all right?" Anna Maria asked after Juan left the room.
Juana stared after Juan. "I think that maybe everything is finally all right. Juan didn't cry after Magdalida died. I think he might have finally started to let her go."