else,
but Riley wasted no time in turning in the direction he had indicated. Moving
quickly around the metal bleachers and weaving her way past townsfolk starting
up the next events—bobbing for apples, cake walk, trampoline jump for kids, and
other small town activities—Riley kept to herself.
Soon she found the white tent in a
line with other tents she recalled passing on their way to the field. People
were selling various craft items from knitted afghans to canned preserves. One
lady was selling honey spiced peach pie that practically halted Riley in her
tracks.
“You want to try some?” The older
black lady smiled at Riley, holding up a taster plate.
The smell of honey was so strong
Riley could swear the air around her became sticky. Her mouth began to salivate
and her stomach started to ache, taking over the throbbing of her thigh. It
took all of her strength to shake her head. “If I start eating some, I don’t
think I’d be able to stop. But, I will come back by, I promise.”
“No worries, dear, all of us have
the same problem. We just can’t resist the honey.”
What was it with honey and this
town?
Nodding, Riley stepped toward the
white tent quickly. A woman was sitting inside reading a book; she looked up
when Riley entered.
“Yes, my first patient.” The woman
with pale skin and short black hair smiled as she stood. “Probably my only.”
Returning the woman’s smile, Riley
moved closer. “I hope that is because no one else is as crazy as I am to go
sliding around the ground.”
“Take a seat on the table and let me
have a look.” The woman patted the pop-up padded table.
Getting up, Riley was not looking
forward to all of the bruising that came after a slide. She could already feel
the blood that had oozed out was drying and sticking to her pants. The cut
wasn’t going to be pretty. But she could not push aside the pride of scoring
the winning point for Theo’s team. It didn’t take a genius to realize there was
no love lost between Theo and Gordon. They were rivals.
Leaning over her leg, the woman
stared down at the rip in the jeans. “Let me clean it up…it doesn’t look so
bad.”
Not look so bad? Riley wondered at
the woman’s expertise. True the injury wasn’t throbbing as bad as it had been a
few moments ago on the field. But, the rocks and gravel had torn through her
jeans, so it had to be a pretty severe cut. Hell, the thigh of her jean had a
large amount of red that stained it.
“You a doctor or a nurse?” Riley
wanted to verify the woman’s credentials. After three seasons of softball in
high school, Riley knew what injuries felt like; from small sprains to deep
cuts. This one was deep.
The woman dug inside of a case that
didn’t look to Riley as if it held more than different size band-aids, swabs of
cotton and a large bottle of antiseptic.
“I’m not in the medical field at
all.” The woman turned back to her holding peroxide and a square cotton pad.
“Not medical?” Riley held up her
hand. “Did I come to the wrong tent?”
Laughing, the woman said, “No. You
are in the right place. We do have a doctor in town, but Doc Paddington sticks
to birth and other serious emergencies. I’m Kaley Yogi one of three teachers in
Den County.”
“A teacher?” Riley fell silent. What
kind of pop-up clinic was this?
“Yep. Since I handle the elementary
age kids, I come in contact with a lot of minor bruises and scrapes, so I usually
get designated to handle the first aid tent for the festival in the fall and
the birthing celebration mid-Spring. Not a lot of people stay wounded long.”
That was a strange way to put it.
“This may sting a second.” Kaley
came to Riley and poured the antiseptic on and around the injury site then used
the pad to dab it and added cream from a tube. “It will not only clean your
scratch but keep the blood from staining your jeans too.”
“Scratch?” Riley glanced at the
tear, ready to contradict the woman again when she
but Riley wasted no time in turning in the direction he had indicated. Moving
quickly around the metal bleachers and weaving her way past townsfolk starting
up the next events—bobbing for apples, cake walk, trampoline jump for kids, and
other small town activities—Riley kept to herself.
Soon she found the white tent in a
line with other tents she recalled passing on their way to the field. People
were selling various craft items from knitted afghans to canned preserves. One
lady was selling honey spiced peach pie that practically halted Riley in her
tracks.
“You want to try some?” The older
black lady smiled at Riley, holding up a taster plate.
The smell of honey was so strong
Riley could swear the air around her became sticky. Her mouth began to salivate
and her stomach started to ache, taking over the throbbing of her thigh. It
took all of her strength to shake her head. “If I start eating some, I don’t
think I’d be able to stop. But, I will come back by, I promise.”
“No worries, dear, all of us have
the same problem. We just can’t resist the honey.”
What was it with honey and this
town?
Nodding, Riley stepped toward the
white tent quickly. A woman was sitting inside reading a book; she looked up
when Riley entered.
“Yes, my first patient.” The woman
with pale skin and short black hair smiled as she stood. “Probably my only.”
Returning the woman’s smile, Riley
moved closer. “I hope that is because no one else is as crazy as I am to go
sliding around the ground.”
“Take a seat on the table and let me
have a look.” The woman patted the pop-up padded table.
Getting up, Riley was not looking
forward to all of the bruising that came after a slide. She could already feel
the blood that had oozed out was drying and sticking to her pants. The cut
wasn’t going to be pretty. But she could not push aside the pride of scoring
the winning point for Theo’s team. It didn’t take a genius to realize there was
no love lost between Theo and Gordon. They were rivals.
Leaning over her leg, the woman
stared down at the rip in the jeans. “Let me clean it up…it doesn’t look so
bad.”
Not look so bad? Riley wondered at
the woman’s expertise. True the injury wasn’t throbbing as bad as it had been a
few moments ago on the field. But, the rocks and gravel had torn through her
jeans, so it had to be a pretty severe cut. Hell, the thigh of her jean had a
large amount of red that stained it.
“You a doctor or a nurse?” Riley
wanted to verify the woman’s credentials. After three seasons of softball in
high school, Riley knew what injuries felt like; from small sprains to deep
cuts. This one was deep.
The woman dug inside of a case that
didn’t look to Riley as if it held more than different size band-aids, swabs of
cotton and a large bottle of antiseptic.
“I’m not in the medical field at
all.” The woman turned back to her holding peroxide and a square cotton pad.
“Not medical?” Riley held up her
hand. “Did I come to the wrong tent?”
Laughing, the woman said, “No. You
are in the right place. We do have a doctor in town, but Doc Paddington sticks
to birth and other serious emergencies. I’m Kaley Yogi one of three teachers in
Den County.”
“A teacher?” Riley fell silent. What
kind of pop-up clinic was this?
“Yep. Since I handle the elementary
age kids, I come in contact with a lot of minor bruises and scrapes, so I usually
get designated to handle the first aid tent for the festival in the fall and
the birthing celebration mid-Spring. Not a lot of people stay wounded long.”
That was a strange way to put it.
“This may sting a second.” Kaley
came to Riley and poured the antiseptic on and around the injury site then used
the pad to dab it and added cream from a tube. “It will not only clean your
scratch but keep the blood from staining your jeans too.”
“Scratch?” Riley glanced at the
tear, ready to contradict the woman again when she
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