7
ETHAN
Being called from my bed on my wedding night in order to stitch up a head wound on a man who’d been in a saloon fight did not make me happy. Therefore, it was in the man’s best interest he’d already passed out before I slipped my needle into his skin. I was neither gentle nor neat in my work. I was used to the random nature of my profession; I did not maintain normal office hours like a banker. My time was at the mercy of the sick.
I’d wanted to be a doctor since I was thirteen, the day my mother and sister were murdered by a small band of angry Yankees. My town had been burned and destroyed. Those who’d remained were either women or boys too young to fight and had to bear the brunt of the aggressors’ actions. I’d been powerless to defend or save either of them. I’d been young,
