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“He’s taken a knock to the temple.” He pointed to the spot on his own head. “It might seem a small injury but it’s not insignificant, Albie. The sleepiness, the confusion, that’s about right for a concussion.”
“Is he... will he be... what does that mean?”
“I think he’ll be just fine,” Doctor Dawson said. “Give him a day or two rest. Keep the room dark to save the headache. You said he’s eating, so that’s a good sign. And he has his faculties, which tells me there’s no lasting damage.”
“Damage?”
“The human brain is a fickle beast, Albie. He’s lucky. He doesn’t remember hitting his head, but he also doesn’t remember how he got down onto that ledge. Was the ledge in question a long drop? Rocky, perhaps?”
“Both.”
“Well, there’s your answer.” He began pulling his gloves on. “Keep him rested, fed, and watered, and he’ll be back to work in no time.”
Funnily enough, Albie didn’t care about work right then.
“Just as long as he’s okay,” he managed.
Des brought the doctor’s horse over. “Ah, Desmond Blackwell. How’s the leg?”
Des tapped the side of his knee. “Still got it,” he replied. “Best barometer around.”
The doctor laughed, but then he saw Robert and he did a double take. “Robert Fuller, I’ll be damned. Best I’ve seen you look in ten years, man.”
Robert was clearly embarrassed, but he tipped his hat. “Doc.”
Doctor Dawson gave Albie a brilliant smile. “Whatever you’re doing up here, boy, you’re doing it right. Keep it up.”
For some reason, having the doctor call Albie a boy didn’t rankle him. He was an older man, and Albie could only guess anyone younger than him copped that name. “Thank you.”
Elsie came back out with a small parcel and waited for the doctor to mount his horse. She handed the parcel up to him. “For your trip back home.”
“Ah, you spoil me,” he said, tipping his hat and riding up toward the gate.
Des and Robert watched him leave but Albie headed straight back inside, Elsie quickly following. She grabbed his arm. “I hope you didn’t mind the bread I gave him,” she said.
“Not at all. I’m glad you offered it to him.”
She was relieved, clearly. “He, uh, he tended to Clara’s eye after Williams hit her. He was surprised to see us here, but I asked him to not tell anyone...” She shrugged. “He said he wouldn’t.”
Albie now gave her arm a squeeze. “I’m sure he’s a man of his word.”
“Thank you, Albie,” she whispered. “Now, go check on your boy.”
“What is it with people calling us boys today?” he grumbled, and Elsie smiled at him. He didn’t mind the term of affection coming from her either, probably because it wasn’t meant to insult him. Or that she implied Percy was his.
Albie rather liked that.
He gave a quiet knock on the bedroom door and cracked it open. “Can I come in?”
“Mmm,” Percy said, his voice croaking. “Since when do you need permission to enter your own room?”
He grinned as he walked in. The room was still dark, curtains drawn closed, but he could see Percy’s sleepy smile. “You’re feeling better,” he noted.
“My head hurts,” he said. “And I’m so tired. I don’t know why. Seems the more I sleep, the tireder I am.”
“The doctor said you’ll need to rest,” Albie said quietly.
Percy slow-blinked, half smiling. “He gave me a bitter tonic for my head.”
