When Remington opened the door, his heart sank when he saw the pool of blood staining the carpet before him.
The room was chaotic, with people scrambling to help and stem the bleeding of the person lying on the ground.
The person at the center of attention, surrounded by the frantic efforts of those around him, groaned in agony. Remington strained to see who it was, but the identity remained elusive in the chaos.
“The bleeding won’t stop. Where is that damn doctor?” a voice pierced the chaos, laden with dread.
Nearby, the butler stood pallid and trembling, his composure shattered. “I’ve sent for him. He’s on his way here.”
“Get out of my way.” Remington’s voice boomed with authority, devoid of mercy, as he demanded the onlookers to retreat. With determined resolve, he forcefully pushed his way through the crowd.
It wasn’t until Hannah joined him that she realized the injured person was Bagot.
There was a deep gash to his leg, a testament to a vicious attack inflicted by a blade at the threshold. Despite his efforts to seek refuge indoors, a gunshot wound seared his shoulder.
Hannah recognized the severity of the gunshot injury. She knew that if she didn’t stop the bleeding quickly, Bagot’s life would hang in the balance.
Amidst her thoughts, the man who had been staunching Bagot’s bleeding cried out, “His heart’s stopped!”
Hannah snapped into action without hesitation. “Make some room. Let me attend to him!”
When the onlookers saw Hannah, their faces contorted with disdain and doubt, their skepticism palpable in the charged atmosphere.
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“Now’s not the time for grandstanding, Miss Moore! He’s on death’s door. You’d best go find safety yourself,” one of them remarked grimly.
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Hannah only glanced at him with no time to waste arguing before pushing past.
She quickly unbuttoned Bagot’s collar and put her two fingers on his throat. “I feel a faint pulse. He’s lost a lot of blood and has gone into shock. Bring more quilts and blankets. The bleeding won’t stop.
He needs to be kept warm.”
Her command rang out, clear and decisive, demanding action in the face of urgency.
Despite Hannah’s clarity, the onlookers hesitated, exchanging doubtful glances that spoke volumes of their disbelief in her assessment.
Remington’s command broke the deadlock. “What are you waiting for?
Move it, everyone! Miss Moore’s got a handle on things. Let her lead for now!”
As Remington’s directive spurred them into reluctant action, they hurried off searching for quilts, blankets, and warmth, their compliance tinged with uncertainty.
With a practiced eye, Hannah examined the wound on Bagot’s thigh, finding it to be less severe than she had initially feared. However, the shoulder injury presented a more daunting challenge, the blood still flowing freely from the bullet hole.
Just then, Keith and Trent arrived, offering their assistance.
“The two of us were worried when we heard you were still in the room, so we came over to see if we could help?”