Arm & Forearm: Buckshot

The muzzle was inside three yards and the whole charge struck your upper arm as one fist of lead, meat, vessel and bone mangled together into something the doctor will not name in front of you. He speaks of tying off what bleeds and of the saw, and none of his sentences have good endings.

• Bedbound with the tourniquet's bruise for 3 days at the least
• The arm swaddled to twice its size, checked hourly for red streaks and stink
• Laudanum by the spoon and by the clock
• /me lies swaddled and grey, counting lamp flickers between spoonfuls of laudanum

Recovery 7 days under a doctor before anyone speaks of the arm's future, untreated does not bear speaking of·Doctor, urgently

Ten paces, close enough that the pattern struck as one ragged crater in the meat of your upper arm, cloth and wadding driven in with the lead. The doctor picked pellets, shirt and paper wad out of the hole for an hour before he would even talk about stitching.

• The crater packed open to drain for 4-5 days
• Arm slung for 6-7 days, no gun, rope or lifting
• A fever watch the first two nights

Recovery 6-7 days of packing and carbolic under a doctor, gangrene odds without·Doctor, urgently

Close range put a fist-tight cluster deep into the inner arm, and one pellet came to rest a hair's width from the big artery. The doctor extracted that one first, hands steadier than his voice, then took the rest at his leisure.

• Inner arm stitched and strapped for 5 days
• Nothing that raises the pulse for 2 days, doctor's orders, and he meant them
• A cluster of small scars like a handful of thrown gravel

Recovery 5 days strapped with daily inspection, one wrong pellet and this is a different story·Doctor, urgently

The bottom edge of the pattern raked your elbow, and three pellets wedged in around the joint, none inside it, all close enough to make the doctor sweat. Two came out with forceps and prying; the third he chased for an hour and then left for another day.

• Elbow splinted straight for 5-6 days, the arm a rigid plank
• A grinding twinge at every jolt of the wagon
• One pellet still living by the joint, loud before rain

Recovery 5-6 days splinted with care, a frozen-joint gamble without·Doctor required

Middling range: a dozen pellets struck from wrist to shoulder and most of them dug in past easy reach. The doctor worked up the arm like a man weeding a row, forceps clinking into the dish while you gripped the table.

• A dozen small extraction wounds, dressed for 3-4 days
• Arm stiff and hot for 3 days, slung for 2
• /me grips the table edge and mutters a fresh name as each pellet clinks into the dish

Recovery 3-4 days of dressings after the digging, a septic week if left studded·Doctor required

Most of the pattern spent itself in cloth and meat, but one pellet drove to the forearm bone and cracked its surface where it stopped. That single pellet cost more digging than the other nine together, and the bone aches like a bad tooth beneath the hole.

• Forearm wrapped and stiff for 4 days, grip at half
• A toothache in the bone, worse at night, for 3 days
• Nine easy scars and one deep one

Recovery 4 days wrapped with a doctor's care, 6-7 without·Doctor required

The evening started with whiskey and forceps and the lamp trimmed high; it ended near dawn with a saucer of lead on the table and both of you too tired to be civil. Every pellet came from a fresh spot with a fresh opinion.

• The peppered arm dressed for 3 days, sleeve worn loose over the plasters
• Short sleep and shorter temper for 1-2 days
• /me tips the saucer of pellets to the lamplight, counting, and loses count on purpose

Recovery 3 days of salve and clean linen, 5-6 festering ones if the digging is skipped·Doctor required

The doctor swore he had them all, but a week's worth of trouble arrived in three days, one pellet hid deep in the forearm and went sour, a hot red knot rising over it. He opened it, flushed it with carbolic, and got the little traitor out along with the pus.

• The lanced knot draining for 2-3 days
• A night of fever and thick-headedness
• A knot-scar bigger than any of the clean ones

Recovery 3 days after the lancing with care, left alone it was on its way to the whole arm·Doctor required

Twenty-five yards opened the pattern wide, and you took a scattering of pellets from shoulder to wrist, none deep, all opinionated. You spent a long cursing evening on the doctor's table as they came out one at a time, and the swear-jar he keeps did handsome business.

• Dozens of plastered nicks up the arm for 2-3 days
• No rope or hard grip work for 2 days
• The sleeve finds every single one of them
• /me shifts on the table and delivers a fresh oath as the forceps find another

Recovery 2-3 days of salve and clean sleeves, 4-5 itching ones without the picking·Doctor advised

The spread caught your forearm at fair range and studded it shallow, each pellet its own small argument. The doctor worked one by one down the arm; most surrendered easy, three put up a fight, and the dish rang like a slow clock all evening.

• The forearm speckled with plastered nicks for 2 days
• Knots and triggers clumsy for 2 days
• Three deeper marks among the shallow crowd

Recovery 2 days dressed with care, 4 without·Doctor advised

A fair peppering across the outside of the arm, shallow but generous. Each pellet came out with a pinch of the forceps and a hiss from you, and the arm now looks like it lost an argument with a hornet nation.

• Swollen and speckled for 2 days
• Sore to any slap on the arm or grab of the sleeve
• The ointment announces you a room away

Recovery 2 days of ointment, 3-4 without, the itching is the true enemy·Doctor advised

Most pellets sat shallow and came out clean, but two dug in where digging would cost more than leaving, and the doctor let them stay. You now carry a pinch of lead in the arm that speaks up ahead of weather, truer than the almanac.

• Two small tenants under the skin, aching ahead of rain
• The picked spots stiff for 2 days as they close
• A speckling of small scars across the arm

Recovery 2 days of soreness with care, 4 without, the two that stayed are yours for keeps·Doctor advised

The fringe of the pattern taxed your arm a half-dozen pellets, shallow enough that the doctor took them at a dollar apiece and let one deep straggler stay as the tithe. Lead comes out; the story stays in.

• Half a dozen plastered nicks for 2 days
• One hard little pea of lead under the skin, shown on request
• /me guides a curious finger to the little lead pea under the skin of the arm

Recovery 2 days dressed, 3-4 without, the tithe pellet never troubles you past weather-ache·Doctor advised

You stood at the ragged edge of the spread and took only its outriders, four pellets, none deeper than the skin's thickness, across the back of the arm. Tweezers, whiskey, done by supper.

• Four dot-plasters for 1-2 days
• A sting when the sleeve drags across them
• Four little scars in a line like animal tracks

Recovery A day or two either way once the four are out·No doctor needed

Three pellets found the meat of your forearm at long range, sitting shallow as splinters and twice as smug. You dug two out yourself with a sewing needle held over a match; the third needed a steadier hand and better light.

• Three plastered pinpricks for 1-2 days
• The forearm tender to a strong grip
• /me heats a needle over a match with the frown of a man doing his own surgery

Recovery A day or two, treated or not, the digging is the whole treatment·No doctor needed

The pattern was near spent when it reached you, speckling the arm with pellets that barely broke skin. Most fell away with a firm rub of a wet cloth; the rest pinched out like blackberry thorns.

• A rash of red speckles fading over 1-2 days
• Itching worse than hurting
• A shirt sleeve peppered with pinholes

Recovery A day or two, no doctoring beyond soap and tweezers·No doctor needed

The spread arrived spent and mostly ate your sleeve, chewing the wool to lace and leaving welts and two lazy pellets sitting in the skin beneath. The sleeve is past saving; the arm hardly noticed.

• Welts across the arm, tender for a day
• Two easy pellets pinched out on the spot
• A sleeve chewed to lace, past all mending

Recovery A day for the welts, the shirt is the only fatality·No doctor needed

Extreme range and a poor choke left you exactly two pellets, both sitting proud in the skin of your forearm like a snake's own bite-marks. You flicked one out with a thumbnail; the other dropped free before you found the tweezers.

• Two fang-spaced dots for a day, let them guess snake
• A faint ache under the sleeve
• Nothing else the shotgun can claim

Recovery A day, treated or not, two dots and a good lie about a rattler·No doctor needed

The very last pellet at the very edge of the spread kissed your arm and hung in the shirt weave, its brothers hissing past into the dark. One red welt, one flattened pellet in the cloth, and a heartbeat you could hear from outside your own chest.

• A single red welt, gone in a day
• The flattened pellet picked from the weave and kept
• A day of flinching wide of open doorways

Recovery A day for the welt, the shirt caught the wound for you·No doctor needed

You threw up your arm with your rolled rain slicker over it, and the whole pattern slapped into the rubber and wool like hail on a roof, pellets hanging in the roll, not one through to the skin. You shook them out onto the bar in a rattling handful, and the barkeep kept one for the shelf.

• A bruised forearm from the slap of it, gone in a day
• A slicker dimpled with lead you will never mend
• /me shakes the rolled slicker over the bar and lets the pellets rattle out like dice

Recovery Nothing to heal, the slicker took the pattern and the shelf got a trophy·No doctor needed