Sniper's Justice (Caje Cole Book 9) David Healey (little bear else holmelund minarik .TXT) 📖

“Unless Jesus arrives to perform some miracle, this won’t be enough,” Sister Anne Marie said, gathering the food into a basket.

The other woman opened her eyes wide, indicating that she was a little shocked by the comment. Her expression seemed to say, first a lie, now blaspheme!

Sister Anne Marie smiled gently. “Thank you, Madame Tolétte. You have a good heart. Now, if you will go to check on the villagers, I will take the bandages and food to the church.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” she stammered.

Sister Anne Marie shook her head. “If there is trouble with the Germans, I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

Sister Anne Marie considered the question. Of course, she felt frightened. Who would not? However, her fear was outweighed by her sense of duty. She smiled. “What should I fear, when I have God?”

But left alone, crossing the short distance to the church, Sister Anne Marie knew that her words had been bravado to put the other woman at ease and perhaps to bolster her own spirits. Having cut the parish priest’s sheets to ribbons, however, there was no turning back now.

The door to the church stood open. Sister Anne Marie called to the guards before stepping inside. They had lifted their weapons, but lowered them when they saw her nun’s habit.

“What do you want?” one of the guards asked.

“I have come to tend to the injured Americans,” she said.

“Go away!”

“But please—”

“We have orders to let no one in, not even a nun.”

She could see that there would be no arguing with the stone-faced guard. She reached into her basket and took out the bottle of brandy. Madame Tolétte had seemed to think that Sister Anne Marie was already on the road to hell, so what was one more transgression?

“I wasn’t just thinking of the Americans,” she said. “I brought this for you.”

The guard took the bottle and smiled, his glance lingering on her face. Although she had turned her back on such things, the sister was not immune to the fact that men found her attractive. She managed a smile in return that bordered on flirtation, but what harm would that do if it helped get her inside? With relief, she saw that her bribe, together with the smile, might just work.

“All right, go ahead. But be careful. I would not trust any of them.”

“Bless you,” she said.

The guard lifted the bottle in salute.

Once inside, she moved among the POWs. Seeing their wounds and injuries, some of them still barely dressed and shivering in the chill inside the church, she suddenly felt overwhelmed. What had she gotten herself into? Perhaps Father Jean had the right idea, after all. She stood stock-still for a long moment, not sure what to do.

“Here, Sister. Let me help you,” said a soldier, reaching to assist her with the basket.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I’m a medic,” he said. “It looks like you brought us bandages. Thank you. We can use them, that’s for sure.”

“These are just bedsheets. I have a small bottle of mercurochrome and some ointment.”

“That’s great. I’ve got to say, I didn’t think those Kraut bastards were going to let you in.” He seemed to catch himself. “Sorry, Sister. What I mean is—”

“I know what you mean,” she said. “We are all God’s children.”

“If you say so, but the jury is out on the Krauts, if you ask me, especially that Kraut sniper. Did you see how he shot that kid on the church steps? That wasn’t war. That was murder.”

She shuddered. She had witnessed the shooting. It was not a sight that she would forget anytime soon. “What is your name?”

“Corporal Moore.”

“All right, Corporal. You are a medic, so why don’t you take on the worst cases? I can assist if you need it. Meanwhile, I will help the less severely wounded.”

Moore nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me, Sister.”

One of the first soldiers that she moved to help was the one who had been clubbed in the head outside the church. The rifle butt had opened up a nasty gash in the young man’s scalp. Most of the bleeding had stopped, leaving behind an ugly wound.

“Let me help you,” she said. “I am Sister Anne Marie. What is your name?”

“Joey Reed.”

“Well, Joey, let us bandage that head of yours.”

“Thank you, Sister.”

Although she was not a trained nurse, it was not unusual for her to help the sick and injured of the parish. Her experience so far ranged from helping with childbirth to assisting the town doctor in setting broken bones and putting in stitches. She had prayed at more than one deathbed as well. As a result, she was no stranger to pain and suffering.

The best that she could do was wrap strips of cloth around the soldier’s head. The first layer soaked through with blood, so she added another, then another. She wanted to wash away some of the blood drying on his face and neck, but there wasn’t any water.

That’s when the sister had an idea. She went to the altar and returned with a small, ornate vessel. This was holy water that the priest had blessed to be used for religious purposes. He would have been aghast at using it for any other purpose.

She said a quick prayer under her breath, hoping that God would understand, then poured some of the holy water onto a strip of cloth, which she used to bathe the soldier’s face.

“Sister, do you think I could have a sip of that water? I’m so thirsty.”

“Here.” She handed him the vessel, and he drank.

“Wow, that was good.”

“Of course it is good,” she said. She smiled. “It is holy water.”

She gathered her bandages and vials, ready to move on to the next soldier. However, the young man surprised her by saying, “Sister, will you take a moment to pray with me?”

She touched his bandaged head gently. “You pray for both of us. I am going to do what I can for