Chapter 61

Up here, everything was as tidy as could be. The staircase opened in the middle of the narrow space. With the slanted roof above, Eli could only walk down the middle. A treadle sewing machine and a table filled one side, while the other was clearly her bedroom, with a white-painted dresser and an old iron bed.
Nettie lay on her stomach atop the covers in the same skirt and blouse she'd worn in the shop the day before. Her dark hair lay in a messy braid, hanging over the edge of the bed to the floor. He couldn't see her face.
"Nettie?" Eli stepped closer, the sensation of wrongness making his stomach clench. "Nettie, are you all right?"
All he heard in reply was a soft whimper. He closed the remaining distance in two steps and laid his fingers on her throat. Relief made his knees weak when he found her pulse beat strong and steady. He sank to sit on the edge of the bed, which caused another moan. She was alive, but not well.
"Nettie, I know I should leave you still and go for an ambulance." He'd had the same training as a wartime medic. "But I don't think you're on the telephone line and I don't want to leave you here with him." Price could wake at any time, putting Nettie in further danger.
"E-Eli?" She lifted her head a few inches and groaned. Her head sank back to the mattress, on one cheek now, so he could see one side of her face. "Is...really you?"
"It is." He stroked her hair back from her cheek. Her entire neck and face were black and blue, not only the eye from yesterday. "Can you tell me the worst of your injuries?"
"Arm," she muttered, forcing her eyes open. "Broken. Head hurts."
"You've probably got a concussion." At the very least. He continued stroking her hair, mostly because it was soothing him as he saw blood spots on the sheets from her split lip and other injuries he couldn't see.
"I have to get to the store." She tried to push herself up with her good arm. The left was swollen halfway between wrist and elbow.
"Easy there, Ace." He had to get her out of here, and that meant moving her. "Let's get you onto your back, then I'm going to splint that arm and make sure there aren't any other serious injuries."
She was still woozy, one pupil larger than the other, but he could see consciousness returning to her expression. When he motioned to be quiet, she managed a faint tip of the chin in acknowledgement. He knotted up his handkerchief and she bit down on that to keep from screaming as he rolled her to her back.
"Scissors?" He was going to have to cut away the sleeve of her blouse.
"Sewing machine." She panted in pain, but waved her hand in the direction of her sewing area. "Cloth on shelf. Yardstick too."
"Stay still." He dropped a kiss on her forehead. Clever girl, she knew what he'd need for a splint. He found the scissors in the drawer of the machine and helped himself to a length of muslin and the yardstick off the shelf, carefully breaking that in half.
She bit down on the handkerchief again as he cut away her sleeve and did the best he could to splint her arm and bind it to her chest. At least the bone hadn't poked out of the skin. Compound fractures could be a crippling injury.
"Ribs?" Eli figured that was one of the bastard's favorite targets, since bruising there wouldn't show when she was dressed.
"Sore." She'd closed her eyes while he bound her arm and now she opened them. "Don't think they're broken. Ankle's probably a sprain. Happened when I fell."
"How'd you get up the damn stairs?" Eli forgot to whisper and she shushed him.
"Crawled. Not the first time, but the worst so far." Tears shone in her eyes. "I have to go, don't I?"
He couldn't lie to her. "You do if you want to survive."
She nodded. "Can you take me somewhere? Not the hospital. They'll let him in since he's my only family."
"You're coming home with me." Eli had already considered the possibility of a hospital giving access to Price. He wanted Nettie where he could make sure she was safe.
Her eyelids began to droop. "Suitcase in closet. Little black one. Please." She dropped back into pain-induced unconsciousness.
"Right. Clothes. Hell, everything," he muttered. Anything she left here, her father would probably destroy. He opened the closet near the sewing machine and pulled out several suitcases, including a small black satchel, which was surprisingly heavy. Inside he found a silver-backed mirror, a few books, a worn toy kitten, an old tintype and a tiny leather jewelry box. This was where she'd hidden her few treasures. Into that box he added all the things atop her dresser - brush, comb, hairpins, and a bar of scented soap, even the embroidered dresser scarf. Her meager supply of clothing - exactly one extra skirt and two blouses, plus one nightgown and a single cardigan sweater went into another, along with the book of poetry on the floor near the bed. She wasn't ever coming back here, not if he could help it.
He carried her to his car first, laying her carefully in the back seat and covering her with the blanket from her bed. On his second trip out with the suitcases, he paused by Price. A half-burnt cigarette lay on the table beside the sofa, adding one new burn mark to the dozen that were already there. The man liked to play with fire - in more ways than one. Eli made sure the butt was out. Before he left, he gave in to his demons and planted one vicious kick into Price's side. He'd see the man in prison somehow, but for now, let the bastard wonder where the cracked ribs had come from.