“Don’t touch it!”

“No, no.”

“I can feel it,” she said after a second, “with my tongue.” As she spoke, a rivulet of blood dripped over her lower lip and onto her parka sleeve. “It’s gonna hurt,” she said, and then shivered violently. “It’s inside my mouth. Oh shit.”

“It doesn’t seem to be bleeding very much,” I said. “But spit, don’t swallow it.”

“I just had a first aid class,” came Sally’s voice from behind the rickety and rusty milking stanchions. “Somebody get over here, and let me come take a look.”

George reached out and patted Hester on the arm. “It’ll be all right,” he said. “Okay,” he said to Sally, “be right there. I’ll get you my stuff.”

Hester nodded, but said nothing as he crawled away.

“It’s not a bullet,” I said. She was shivering pretty hard, and breathing in deep, shuddering gasps, and I could see the clouds of frozen breath forming in the cold air. I didn’t want her hyperventilating on us, and tried to reassure her. “It’s just a piece of old nail, must have been hit by a slug. It’s not life threatening, okay? It’s not a bullet. Lots slower. There’s no damage other than a little hole.” It occurred to me that she might be worried about disfigurement. And it really wasn’t a very big hole. “Real small,” I said. “Try to slow your breathing, if you can.”

She nodded. “It’ll hurt,” she said, with a quaver in her voice. “Hit my teeth. Numb now…but it’ll hurt…oh boy.” She didn’t look at any of us, just stared at the concrete floor, concentrating, and beginning to try to breathe slowly and deeply.

If she was right about her teeth, it really was going to hurt like hell.

Sally scuttled over on all fours. “Hi, Hester. Let me see what I can do here, okay? You’re gonna be all right…”

“Sure,” said Hester. Her words were less distinct. Swelling inside her mouth?

Sally briefly examined the wound. “We need some sort of compress,” she said. “Just to protect it, if we can. Some water to irrigate it, maybe? Later, we better let the doc remove it, okay?”