“A bad sprain,” he told them. “But I have something for the pain, the ankle is wrapped, and I’ll soon be good as new.”
“Why were you out there in those conditions?” Harry asked.
“What they told you was right,” Butt said. “I slipped out for a smoke about half an hour before lunch time. I crept across to the garage for shelter. I knew the door was never locked. I was almost close enough to touch the door when I slipped and fell. Somehow, I got up on my knees, opened the door, and crawled inside. There was a shovel just inside the door and I used that to help me get up and hop along on one foot. I got into the bus so I’d have a comfortable place to sit and put my leg up. There was a blanket on the back of the driver’s seat and I threw it over my legs. I pulled up the hood on my jacket, and settled back. I figured half an hour and I’d be able to crawl back to the residence.”
“It didn’t work that way, did it?” Harry prompted.
Butt shook his head. “Not quite. I guess I dozed off. When I woke, the ankle was swollen, stiff, and painful. I wasn’t sure what to do for the best. I was about to give it a try when I heard voices outside and I shouted as loud as I could.”
“Joe heard you first,” Bertie said, “and we hurried as much as we could by sliding our feet across the ice.”
“You were lucky this time,” Harry said. “But I trust you’ll be more careful in future.”
“I don’t think I’ll have much choice,” Butt replied. “I have a feeling Carrie’s going to watch me like a hawk from now on.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Tell me something, Hogan,” Bertie said as he was driving her home. “Were you christened as Harry? Or is Harry a nickname for Henry?”
“What?” Harry looked at her. “My name is not Henry.”
“So, you were christened Harry?”
“No.”
Bertie’s eyes widened. “Then, your real name is… what?”
“Harrison… and keep it to yourself.”
“Oooo,” she said with a smile. “Like Harrison Ford… nice.”
Harry frowned. “No, like my great-grandfather. And you are never… I repeat, never… to divulge that to anyone. Got it?”
“Down, boy… I’ll keep your secret.” She grinned. “Did you ever do any research into your family history?”
“Nah, my cousin is the one who’s into all that. I know all I need to know.” He grinned back at her as he stopped the truck in her driveway. “Now, can we get back to the present?”
“Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“What’s for supper? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
“You expect me to feed you?” Bertie laughed. “Chicken casserole in the fridge. Just needs to be warmed up.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said, with the truck door already open. “Maybe a game of checkers after?”
Bertie shook her head as she unlocked the front door. “Nope, Scrabble,” she said, knowing she had a chance of beating him at that game.
