Episode #320

Preview of next week's episode

A barber's job was not so onerous, and it brought the money in, vraiment. For how many men of money in this hacienda were not as vain as their women about their appearance? They were more shy about having their teeth pulled, of course, though Pirenne could do that for them, too. How Robert had laughed when Pirenne had explained a surgeon's most marketable skills to him. Ah, but a surgeon did not have an apothecary's witch-like skills and potions to fall back on. He must cut hair in between those times when the people of this good pueblo had need of a leech to set their bones or cut their flesh. Not that they trusted him to do that for them, yet. They still preferred Robert by far, even after Robert had publically declared Pirenne his new partner in medicine. And so, for now, Pirenne cut their hair.

Today, he was giving Colonel Montoya a trim. The colonel was in a good mood, having received back most of his powers of government from the Viceroy after the trial of the bandita, the Queen of Swords a few weeks before. Such a pity that said bandita had subsequently escaped. Pirenne heard none of this from Montoya, of course. He had other sources besides the Colonel's stilted attempts at French conversation.

"I have heard many rumours about you, Doctor Pirenne," Montoya said as Pirenne finished and handed him a mirror. "None of them mentioned your skill as a barber."

Pirenne smiled. He'd wondered how long it would take for Montoya to get around to discussing his new surgeon's histoire mystérieuse. "Cutting a man and cutting his hair, it is much the same skill, n'est-ce pas?"

"True. You were in the Peninsular War with Dr. Helm, were you not?" Montoya's pale eyes, reflected in the mirror, were wide and guileless.

Pirenne chuckled, with no intention of giving anything away. "We made a passing acquaintance then, you could say. Do you like the style?"

Montoya patted his hair, and flipped his ponytail up, smiling into the mirror. "Oh, yes. Very neat. You have quite the skill with a blade, Doctor Pirenne. I think I will even give you a tip."

Pirenne inclined his head. "Merci beaucoup, Colonel. It will be much app--" The sound of a pistol shot nearby interrupted him. He dropped to the floor. A moment later, another shot cracked the air.

Montoya sat up, letting the mirror clatter next to his breakfast dishes in the table next him. "That came from the barracks." He crooked his fingers at Pirenne. "Come with me, Doctor. It sounds as if you may have more arduous work to do before you collect that tip."

"Mais oui, Colonel." Embarassed by his edgy response, Pirenne stood back up. He suppressed the regret that Montoya could not have paid him first. If someone had been shot, he would be needed. Robert had gone out on the trail earlier in the morning. If he followed his recent habit, he would show up near sunset, drunk or ready to drink. He had grown morose since the trial. Despite the fact that he had gotten the Queen off, his courtship with her secret alter ego, Tessa Alvarado, had soured. Well, such things did make a man bitter.

As Montoya stood up and pulled off his apron, Pirenne washed his hands quickly in the basin set aside for Montoya's shave. He dropped his equipment back into his surgeon's bag and followed Montoya down the stairs. Montoya looked grim and angry. "This had better not be some mischief of the Queen," he growled.

Pirenne shrugged as he came up beside the shorter man. "She is scarcely the only criminal in this pueblo, non?"

Montoya gave him a sharp look. "Indeed."

As they approached the barracks, Pirenne saw several soldiers crowding around one of the private apartments of the officers' quarters. "That is Capitan Grisham's quarters," Montoya said tightly. He snapped an order at the soldiers. They parted for him. He strode through, Pirenne trailing him. The door to the quarters was open. Pirenne opened his mouth to advise caution, but Montoya was already stepping inside. "Madre de Dios!" he gasped.

Pirenne looked over Montoya's shoulder. Inside, the apartment had been wrecked. An overturned table blocked the door while a bed sat, half-collapsed, in a corner. Sprawled across it, on his back, was Colonel Grisham. Pirenne shoved past Montoya, giving the quarters a quick scan as he entered. The room was much darker than the clear day outside, but when no one attacked him, he went to Grisham on the bed. Grisham's eyes were half-open. A small trickle of blood ran from his mouth, staining his teeth, and a stream of blood ran from a large wound in his throat. Despite the evidence, Pirenne laid his head on Grisham's chest to listen for the breath he knew was not there.

"Doctor?" Montoya came up beside him as Pirenne straightened up.

Pirenne looked at him and shook his head. "He is gone."

"Roger...." The sound came from the wall near the foot of the bed. Startled, Pirenne shoved past Montoya to go look. Helm lay on his side against the wall, eyes closed. blood soaked one leg up near his groin, and the ground beneath it. As he knelt next to Helm, Pirenne saw that Robert had tied his bandanna around his leg. The bleeding had slowed, but not stopped. Pirenne took off his own bandanna, balled it up and stuffed it on top of the wound, pressing down on it with both hands.

"Robert, what happened?" he said.

Helm opened his eyes. He puffed out a laugh, then winced in pain as Pirenne increased the pressure on his wound. "What does it look like? I got stabbed."

Montoya came up behind Pirenne. "Doctor? What has happened? Will he live?"

"He's been stabbed. He has made a tourniquet and it has slowed the bleeding, but I will need to cauterise the wound. We must get him back to the surgery."

"Of course." Montoya turned towards the door and paused. "What about Capitan Grisham?"

"The Captain is dead. Dr. Helm is not. I can only work on one patient at a time. Would you prefer that I try to resurrect a corpse instead of saving an injured man?" He glanced up at Montoya.

Montoya cocked his head and smiled strangely. "I will defer to your expertise in this situation, Doctor." He went back outside, shouting directions at the soldiers. Pirenne turned back to Helm, Montoya and his priorities momentarily forgotten.

"Roger." Helm's voice was very weak. Pirenne leaned over to hear him. "I'm sorry. It happened so fast. I didn't think--"

"Non," Pirenne said, shaking his head. "No confessions, Robert. I am no priest and you are not going to die. Not today. Do not turn Catholic on me, now."

Helm laughed feebly and closed his eyes. "Heaven forbid," he said.

He was unconscious by the time they carried him out into the sunlight.