Dirty Faces- Book 1

Chapter 31: Missing

Chapter 31: Missing

The little boy's feet didn't come close to touching the floor. Instead, his legs swung idly back and forth off the edge of the examination table. He was inspecting the newly-placed splint on his right wrist when the Priest asked, "So, Bud, what's the moral of this story?"

The little boy looked up at the Priest, then at his mother, seated in the corner. When he didn't answer, she said, "Bud, the doctor asked you a question." He looked at the Priest once more and shrugged.

The Priest frowned. "No running when there's ice on the ground. That could have been a lot worse than just a sprain."

The boy nodded. "Yes, sir."

The Priest turned to the boy's mother. "I think that about does it, Mrs. Higgins. Just try to keep that wrist elevated as much as possible. Take advantage of this snow on the ground and ice it when you can. Bring him back in a week or so and I'll have another look at. If anything pops up before then, let me know, but I think he'll do just fine."

She stood, putting her purse on her shoulder. The little boy hopped off the examination table and took his mother's hand. "Thank you very much, doctor," said Mrs. Higgins as the Priest walked them to the door.

"My pleasure."

She stopped when they reached the front door and looked down at her son. "Bud, what do you say to Dr. Riley?"

The little boy looked up at the Priest. "Can I have a sucker?"

"Bud!" Mrs. Higgins hissed, clearly embarrassed. "Don't be rude!"

"What? Dr. Clark always gave me a sucker."

The Priest found himself frowning at the boy once again. He'd thought of keeping treats on hand for the children, and with the store just around the corner, he didn't have any excuse for having not done so. "I'm sorry," he replied. "I'm afraid I don't have any candy."

The boy's brows knitted together and his mouth dropped open, but before he could speak, his mother asserted, "That's perfectly fine, doctor. Bud doesn't need any candy today." She glared at her son and his mouth snapped shut. "Thank you again," she said to the Priest as she dragged the boy out the door. "Boy, you just wait 'til I get you home," he heard her say as she continued dragging the boy across the partially snow-covered yard and toward the gravel drive.

Poor Bud, thought the Priest. A sprained wrist, no sucker, and now surely a whipping awaiting him when he got home. This wasn't turning out to be his day.

The snow had been on the ground now for a week and was just beginning to melt. As always, the old timers had been right. The year had started out cold, and a month in and three snowfalls later, the winter was still proving to be quite a formidable foe to the town.

The Priest stood at the door, watching the mother and son as they neared the end of the drive, and letting the cold air drift inside. He was about to close the door when a black automobile turned down the drive. It stopped and the driver spoke to Mrs. Higgins, who pointed back toward the boarding house before continuing on her way. Then the car continued up the driveway and parked to the side of the house.

A man wearing a vest and tie beneath his coat got out and adjusted his bone-colored buckskin fedora before approaching the house. "Good afternoon," he greeted when he caught sight of the Priest standing on the porch. "I'm looking for a Dr. Francis Riley. Might that be you?"

"It is indeed," replied the Priest, pushing open the screen door for his unexpected guest.

The man stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and extended a hand. "Sheriff Jeremiah Mabry. Nice to meet ya."