May 1780

Tewanias made no sound as the needle pierced his skin nor did he flinch as the thread was pulled through behind it. His brow furrowed slightly only when the two sides of the wound came together.

His fingertips reddened and slippery with blood, the boy paused, adjusting his grip on the needle.

“Why do you stop?” Tewanias asked brusquely. He had posed the question in English.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the boy said.

The Indian looked puzzled by the statement. “I am already hurt. Continue.”

The boy hesitated. He was trying hard to stop his hands from shaking. With the arrival of dusk, the light had deteriorated considerably. Determined not to let his patient see how nervous he was, he drew in a deep breath and pushed the needle into the swollen flesh. After the initial press of resistance he felt the skin give way and, encouraged by that minor success, he completed the second suture, not daring to look up until he had finished his surgery. It took three more stitches to seal the sword gash in the Mohawk’s upper arm. The result was far from neat but other than a line of tiny red bubbles beading along the length of the cut there was no noticeable seepage of blood. Inspecting the work, Tewanias traced the edges of the wound with his fingers before handing the boy his knife to cut the surplus thread. When that had been done he took the knife back. “Good. Thank you, Mat-huwa. You did well.”

The Mohawk held the boy’s gaze for several seconds before turning his attention to the wound in his side. An earlier examination had told him that it could have been a great deal worse. The ball from the Oneida’s carbine had entered his flesh between his pelvis and his lower ribcage, performing an almost straight trajectory before exiting just above his hip. A couple of inches either side and the ball would have struck bone. It was fortunate that he had not been wearing a shirt, otherwise cloth would have been forced into the wound, increasing the risk of infection.

Taking pulped cat-tail root from his medicine bag and soaking it in water from the stream, Tewanias cleansed the area before pressing a moss poultice to both the entry and exit holes. Beneath the blood, the edges of the wounds appeared unsullied, but it paid to be sure. If any poisons were present the moss would draw them out and reduce the swelling.