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“He’s not very responsive,” Carrie said.
“Can you tell the doc your name, son?” Roy asked.
“Duke,” he said softly, his little boy treble stabbing Sydney’s heart. How had she given up her baby?
“Duke, I’m going to have your daddy put you on the table here, okay?”
“’Kay.”
Roy laid the little boy on the examining table, and Doc Larson inserted a thermometer in his ear. When it dinged, he looked at it and frowned.
“What?” Carrie asked frantically.
“Nearly 105. Is he prone to high fevers?”
“Not usually.” Carrie’s voice shook. “He usually never goes above 103, and that’s only when he’s really sick.
“Well, that alone isn’t a huge worry,” Doc said. “It’s probably just a virus. I’ve seen some nasty ones going around. Let’s get his shirt off and take a look and a listen.”
Carrie pulled Duke’s T-shirt over his head.
Doc put his stethoscope in his ears and placed the bell on Duke’s chest. Then he turned. “How did he get this bruise?”
“What bruise?” Carrie asked.
“This one.” Doc indicated a quarter-size bruise on Duke’s side.
“I’m not sure. We were at the rodeo all morning, till about two.”
“How was he at the rodeo?”
“A little cranky. And he didn’t seem to sleep well last night. Tossed and turned a lot.”
“Can we get the rest of his clothes off? I want to take a look.”
“Of course.”
Duke whimpered as Carrie undressed him. Doc Larson took a look.
“Here’s another bruise on his thigh, but I don’t see any more. Has he fallen in the last day or so?”
“Not that I recall,” Carrie said.
“Is he an unusually rowdy and rambunctious little boy?”
Roy wiped his forehead with a bandana. “He’s a little boy, Doc. Of course he’s rowdy and rambunctious. But he’s been a little under the weather the past few days. We thought he was just catching a cold, but this fever’s got us worried.”
“Duke,” Doc said, “see this bruise on your leg here?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you remember how you got it? Did you fall down? Did something hit you in the leg?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can’t remember anything that would have made you get a bruise?”
“No.”
