Free Waiting for Morning by Margaret Brownley Page B

doctor,” Donny said, his voice flat, his face expressionless. The boy obviously suffered melancholy, which almost always translated to careless dress or poor hygiene. Neither was true for Donny. His black trousers and boiled shirt were spotlessly clean, his hair neatly trimmed—all signs of a conscientious caretaker.
    “I hope you don’t start another stampede.”
    Caleb cracked a smile. “You and me both.” He’d been meaning to check into the backfiring but hadn’t found the time. He’d have to talk to the smithy about fixing the flywheel and bullet holes.
    Donny shifted in his chair and the wheels emitted a squeak. Magic barked playfully and pawed the rims, trying to get them to squeak again. Donny trailed his hand along Magic’s back where the long hair parted and fell on either side of his body. Normally the dog’s face was hidden, but Aunt Bessie had brushed his hair out of his eyes and tied it with a blue ribbon.
    “What’s your dog’s name?”
    “Magic.”
    “What’s magical about him?” Donny asked.
    “Nothing that I know of. He was named after the street he was born on.”
    “Good thing he wasn’t born on Cemetery Street,” Donny said.
    Caleb laughed. The boy had a sense of humor.
    Donny tossed a nod at the carriage parked in front. “Did you build it yourself?”
    Caleb nodded. “With help from a friend’s father. He owns a bicycle shop in Boston where I went to school.”
    A spark of interest flared in the youth’s face. “Was it hard to build?”
    “Took us five years to get it right. We built it over the shop on the second floor. It was the only space available.” He had worked part time in the shop to cover medical school expenses and the cost of motor parts. “We had a hard time getting Bertha to the ground floor to test it.”
    “How did you manage?” Donny asked.
    “We finally stood her on her tail end and lowered her down in the elevator.”
    Donny flashed a grin. “That must have been something to see.”
    “Yes, it was.” Caleb’s gaze shifted to the corrals and barn in the distance. “Where is everyone?” By everyone he meant Donny’s sister, but he didn’t want to ask about her outright.
    “Dunno. They took off a couple of hours ago. Haven’t seen them since. Wish they’d get back. I’m tired of sitting out here.”
    Caleb glanced at the front door, which couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen feet away. “I’ll help you inside if you like.”
    Donny’s expression grew solemn again. “My sister doesn’t want me to move without her. Last time I did, I fell out of my chair and couldn’t get back in.”
    Caleb frowned. While at the Boston School of Medicine he’d worked with paraplegic Civil War veterans. Some gave in to their affliction, replacing missing limbs with bitterness and anger. Others rose above their injuries and went on to raise families and own successful businesses. Donny wasn’t missing a limb, but he was definitely missing out on life.
    Something caught Donny’s attention. “Look at that horse. He’s at it again.”
    Caleb followed Donny’s pointed finger. In the far corral a black colt rocked back and forth like a child’s rocking horse.
    “I named him Orbit,” Donny explained. “That’s ’cause he has this funny habit of putting his head to the ground and circling his body around like a planet orbiting the sun.”
    “Sounds like a good name for him.” Caleb leaned against a post, arms crossed. Magic gave up on the chair and flopped down by his side. “What’s wrong with your legs?”
    “They don’t work,” Donny mumbled, his gaze dropping to his lap.
    “I can see that.” Caleb waited, but when the youth offered no further explanation, he asked, “How did it happen? Were you born that way?”
    Donny looked up. “I fell out of my carriage as an infant.”
    Caleb sucked in his breath. So the boy had been crippled nearly all his life. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
    Donny’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you