His hands never slowed or wavered; he kept working. But briefly, his eyes traced over to her. He didn't want her sleeping -- at least, not yet, not until he was certain that every injury was handled.
"Why?" he asked, tying the final stabilizing bandage around her foot to keep it in position. The ice stayed as close to the break as possible, but there was less surface area to reach, now. He moved a few of the compresses back to her arms again, and gave her a final looking over. He would need a pallet to move her inside, unless he left her in the car. It might be easier to leave her in the back seat. He could then drive her to Hannibal in the morning.
But no. She was fatherless and quite possibly alone. He would keep her here; she'd receive no better care than that which she'd have under his roof. "And try to tell me if anything else hurts very badly," he added.