The Caged Graves by Dianne K. Salerni Read Free Book Online

examining room wiping his hands on a towel. He took one look at them, then rushed forward and blotted Piper’s face with the towel. “That’s going to need stitching,” he stated.
    Piper howled. Verity passed him into the doctor’s arms, but the boy clung to her with both hands, pulling her along with them into the examining room. “Find your father!” she shouted over her shoulder to Johnny, who bolted from the office.
    â€œYou’re not their sister,” the young man declared as he carried Piper to a chair.
    Verity sat down first and took the boy on her lap. “No,” she agreed. “Are you Dr. Robbins?”
    â€œNo.” Catching Piper’s wrists in one hand, he wiped away enough blood to expose a wide gash crossing the child’s eyebrow. “I notice you don’t faint at the sight of blood,” he said.
    â€œI never faint,” she told him proudly.
    His eyes were blue, but not dark like Nate’s. They were pale and seemed to twinkle with good humor. Ginger haired, fair skinned, and not much older than Verity herself, he displayed a confident demeanor that calmed her racing heart. If he was not the doctor, he was giving a fair impression of one. “How are you with a needle?” he asked, letting go of Piper’s hands and crossing the room to rummage in a drawer.
    Verity answered him bravely. “My embroidery is excellent.”
    The young man laughed. “I’ll handle the needle; I just want you to hold him down.” He returned with a handful of peppermint candies, which he waved in the air to catch the attention of Stephen and Samuel. The twins stopped crying. Then he strode to the waiting room door and whistled as though they were a pair of dogs. They scampered after him and dove for the candy when he tossed it across the room.
    He shut the adjoining door and turned back to his patient. “Now to business.” Piper began to wail again as the young doctor threaded silk through a needle. “How did he hurt himself?”
    Verity paused, then said, “He was trying to capture a deserter, I think.”
    â€œReally?”
    Piper looked back and forth between them. “And save General Washington’s payroll!”
    â€œOh,
that
deserter!” The young doctor turned to Verity. “Please hold his arms and his legs. Leave his head to me.”
    Verity settled herself in the chair. She grabbed one of Piper’s hands in each of hers and crossed them over his chest, but his legs presented more difficulty. Piper raised his legs up and kicked wildly at the doctor. After a moment’s consideration, Verity threw one of her own legs over both of the boy’s, locking his body against her own. This position presented a wide swath of petticoats for public display, but after one brief, appreciative glance, the young man directed his attention solely to his patient.
    With his free hand he grabbed a fistful of Piper’s hair just above the cut and pressed the boy’s head back against Verity’s shoulder. “Did you get him?” he asked mildly. “The deserter, that is.” He cleansed the wound with a cloth.
    â€œI did,” grunted Piper, a bit hoarse from screaming.
    The doctor made quick, decisive passes with the needle, his head bent close to his patient. Feeling Piper’s little body shudder with each stitch, Verity could see nothing but clean curls of ginger hair. In spite of her claims, she was finding the smell of blood pungent and unsettling. She leaned back in the chair.
    â€œBrought him to justice, did you?” the young man murmured, snipping off the end of the thread.
    â€œAnd found the gold.” Piper’s body sagged against Verity’s.
    â€œI’ll bet you did,” he said softly to Piper. “I’ll bet you did.” Then he raised his eyes to Verity. “Well done, Miss Not-Thomas.”
    Verity smiled up at him. “Thank you, Dr. Not-Robbins.