Noticing how she sat on only one side of the bench.
Noticing how her jaw tightened every time she shifted.
Noticing pain.
His father had been a physician before dying years earlier.
Jacob wasn’t a doctor.
But he’d spent years helping his father treat injured settlers and trappers.
He recognized suffering when he saw it.
“You injured?” he asked.
Sarah looked surprised.
“No.”
“You don’t move like someone comfortable.”
She gave a bitter laugh.
“Comfortable left months ago.”
Jacob studied her carefully.
“What happened?”
The question itself nearly broke her.
Because nobody else had asked.
She stared at the floor.
Then the story spilled out.
The pain.
The burning.
The difficulty riding.
The sleepless nights.
The doctor who dismissed her.
The neighbors who suggested prayer.
The women who told her she was exaggerating.
By the time she finished, tears glistened in her eyes.
Jacob remained silent for a moment.
Then he asked another question.
“Any fever?”
She blinked.
“Sometimes.”
“Chills?”
“Yes.”
“Swelling?”
Sarah nodded.
His expression darkened.
“How long?”
“Nearly six months.”
Henry looked up from behind the counter.
Even he seemed concerned now.
Jacob folded his arms.
“That’s not normal.”
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