It took five minutes of tromping through mud and old sodden leaves before Lou found a suitable pair of branches, each about a foot longer than Cap’s leg. One of them had a fork at the end, which was going to be helpful. Lou did not have enough ACE bandage to secure the splint in place, so he cut the backpacks and Cap’s shirt into strips that, along with some excess rope, would do the job.

But first, they had to straighten out his leg.

Lou glanced over at his AA sponsor, who mercifully appeared to have drifted off.

“Buddy, you got to get ready,” Lou said, gingerly securing the rope around Cap’s right ankle. Even the slightest movement of the leg induced a groan. This was going to be bad.

“I’m ready,” Cap said.

Lou released the rope and felt around the ground for a sturdy stick, which he gently slipped between Cap’s teeth.

“Here you go, pal. Just pretend you’re on a Civil War battlefield and bite down on this anesthesia machine when it hurts.”

“It already hurts.”

“I mean really hurts,” Lou said.

“Swell.”

“I got no whiskey like they had at Gettysburg, but I promise that if I did, I’d let you have as many swigs of it as you wanted.”

“Just do what you need to do.”

“Okay, this is it. Five … four…”

The rope tightened around Lou’s wrist as Cap preempted the countdown by jamming his foot against the tree. Lou gave the rope another wrap around his own wrist and wedged his foot against a boulder to help with leverage.

“Three…”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Cap said through the stick. “I wanted to come on this run.”

“Two…”

“Let’s do this!”

“One! Push, Cap, push!”

His gaze fixed on the fracture site, using all the strength he could summon, Lou pushed against the boulder and pulled on the rope. Cap cried out as he forced his good leg against the tree. After a few seconds, he spit the stick out and bellowed, the sound echoing off the canopy of damp spring leaves. Then, like a fast passing train, his screams stopped. His eyes were narrowed and utterly determined, as if he had crossed a threshold of pain tolerance. He was hyperventilating rapidly through his nose.

Lou felt his friend’s intensity, and called upon his own legs for more power. Finally, millimeter-by-millimeter, the jagged, bloodied bones began to slide apart. The spasm in Cap’s quad was lessening. Lou’s teeth were clenched as he ignored the nylon rope cutting into his wrists and demanded still more from his legs, which were themselves beginning to spasm.

The femur ends moved past one another and disappeared into the gash.

“More pressure, Cap. We’re doing it! We’re doing it! Force that left leg out straight.”