Second Chance Hero

Chapter Five

Obviously excited by the idea of seeing Beans again, Joy chattered all the way to Mr. Cooper’s place. Fortunately, most of her comments were directed to her doll, Lulu, and didn’t require a response from Verity. She kept firm hold of her daughter’s hand the whole time, but her mind kept drifting to thoughts of what Mr. Cooper’s place might look like and if it would provide new insights into the man himself.

When they arrived, Verity spotted Calvin Hendricks seated on the bench that sat between the apothecary and the saddle shop. Calvin was a local youth who was fast approaching adulthood. Apparently he’d been the one tapped by Sheriff Gleason to keep an eye on Mr. Cooper’s shop.

“Hi there, Miz Leggett.” Calvin stood, then turned to her daughter. “And hello, Joy. I sure am glad to see you walking around and looking good as new.”

“Mr. Cooper saved me,” Joy said, as if it was momentous news. Which, as far as Verity was concerned, it was.

“That he did. And it was right heroic of him, too.” Calvin turned back to Verity. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s got some painful bruises, a gash on his arm and a sprained ankle, but thankfully nothing that won’t heal. Uncle Grover stitched him up and he’s resting at the clinic.” She waved toward the saddle shop. “I’m here to fetch his dog and a change of clothes, and to get his key so we can lock the place up.”

Calvin nodded. “Anything I can help with?”

“Thank you, but no. It shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes.”

“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be right out here.” And the youth sat back down on the bench, as if to demonstrate he wasn’t going anywhere.

Verity opened the shop door and stepped inside. She and Joy were immediately greeted by a yipping ball of excited dog. Joy stooped down to greet the animal and quickly had her face washed in doggie kisses.

Verity carefully closed the door behind them, unwilling to risk Beans running out and Joy following him in a repeat of the earlier mishap.

Deciding to tackle the matter of clothing first, she headed toward the stairs at the back of the shop. She slowly crossed the room, studying her surroundings with keen interest. The place had a definite masculine feel—all leather and wood and metal.

Harnesses and leather straps of various lengths and widths hung from pegs on the wall to her right. There was a worktable to her left. A selection of tools, most of which she didn’t recognize, were displayed there. They were neatly arranged and organized, though his system wasn’t immediately obvious. She imagined him working here, wearing the heavy canvas apron that hung on a peg behind the table, his head bent over his work, his strong, callused hands wielding those strange tools, his arresting blue eyes focused on his work.

The smell of leather hung heavy in the room, so strong she could almost taste it. Under that scent, she could also detect the aroma of oil and just a faint tang of metal.

Only when she reached the bottom of the stairs did Verity realize her daughter hadn’t followed her. Appalled by her lack of attention so soon after Joy’s accident, she spun around. “Come along,” she said, holding out her hand. “We need to fetch something from Mr. Cooper’s room upstairs.”

Joy’s lower lip pushed out in something suspiciously like a pout. “But I want to stay down here and play with Beans.”

“Beans can come with us.”

Her daughter’s expression cleared. “Okay.” She stood and waved to the dog. “Come on, Beans.”

The dog obediently trotted at her heels, then bounded up the stairs with her.

The staircase led up to a landing that had an open sitting room straight ahead and a kitchen to the right. The rooms were stark, with only a bare minimum of furniture. Perhaps Mr. Cooper just hadn’t had the time, or the funds, to do much more. But surely he would have brought some personal possessions with him, from his former home.

There was a door off to her left that she assumed led to his bedchamber. “Joy, you and Beans can play right over there. I won’t be but a minute.”

She marched to the door, then hesitated before opening it. It suddenly seemed invasive to enter his private space, even if she did have his permission. Which was silly. She was only going to fetch him a change of clothing and then leave. And she did have his permission to be here, after all.

Verity opened the door and stepped inside. A quick glance around showed a neatly made bed, a wooden chair and a small bedside table. On the opposite wall was a trunk and the wardrobe. Everything looked as if it had seen better days.

She noticed a picture on the bedside table, and her curiosity got the best of her. She went closer and discovered it was the image of a young woman. She was quite lovely, in a delicate, fragile sort of way. Her clothes were fine quality, her heart-shaped face very sweet and delicate. She had an ethereal quality to her and seemed to be everything Verity was not. Was this the kind of woman Mr. Cooper admired?

Who was she? She was obviously someone who meant a great deal to him as it was the only picture, the only personal item really, in the room. A family member? A sweetheart? And where was she now?

Verity straightened abruptly and turned away. What was she doing? She had no right to snoop into Mr. Cooper’s personal life. He’d given her permission to take care of some necessities for him, not snoop into things that were none of her business. She marched to the wardrobe, grabbed a clean shirt and pair of trousers, then headed back out.

“Come along, Joy, time to go.”

As she descended the stairs she thought how different his clothing smelled from what Arthur’s had. Where her husband’s had smelled of antiseptic, soap and cigars, Mr. Cooper’s smelled of leather, of course, but also soap and something faintly woodsy.

She decided that she liked it.

* * *

Nate woke from his nap to see flowers floating in front of his eyes. What in the world—

Was he still dreaming?

“Do you like them?”

The flowers, which he now saw were in a glass jar, floated to the side and the little girl holding them finally came into view.

“Well, hello there, Joy. Does your mother know you’re in here?”

“I just wanted to give you these,” she said, not answering his question. She held the flowers out toward him a little more. “Do you like them?” she asked again.

“They’re lovely.”

Apparently this was the correct response, because her face split with a grin. “They’re for you. From me and Lulu.” She proudly held them out to him.

“Why, thank you. But who’s Lulu?”

The child held out her doll. “My dolly.”

He looked the doll in the “eyes.” “Very nice to meet you, Lulu.” Then he turned back to Joy. “The flowers are nice, but may I ask why you are giving me such a nice gift?”

“You rescued me and Lulu. You’re a hero.”

There was that word again. “It was my pleasure. But little girls really shouldn’t play in the street.”

“That’s what Mama told me, too.” Her tone wasn’t particularly penitent. “But I wasn’t really playing in the street. I was trying to catch Buttons.”

“Buttons?”

“That’s Miss Hazel’s cat. He likes to have me chase him.”

Nate let the girl’s interpretation of the cat’s motives stand. But he had a feeling Mrs. Leggett was going to have her hands full raising this one. “I see. But you still shouldn’t have gone out in the street.”

Joy pursed her lips in a stubborn line. Then she smiled. “I’ll put your flowers right here on the table where you can see them whenever you want to.” She put words to action, then came back to stand beside him. “Everyone is saying you’re a hero. What’s a hero?”

Now, how was he supposed to answer that? “First of all, I’m not a hero. I was just the first one to get to you. But to answer your question, a hero is a person who does something for other people who need help, without worrying about what it might cost him.”

“Oh.” She pondered that for a while then waved toward his bandaged arm. “Does it hurt a lot?”

He was touched by the worried look in her eyes. “I’ve had worse.”

She hugged her doll to her chest. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

Another tricky question. He studied her woefully guilty expression, wondering how best to answer her. But before he could say anything, Joy spoke again.

“I’m sorry. And Lulu’s sorry, too.”

He smiled. “Apology accepted.”

She brightened and changed the subject. “Beans is in the kitchen with Aunt Betty. We gave him some of the scraps from lunch. Me and Mama brought him here so he could be close to you. Do you want me to go get him for you?”

“Not right now—”

The door opened behind the little girl, and Mrs. Leggett came in carrying a tray. He sat up straighter, his stomach reacting to the delectable aromas with a rude rumble.

Mrs. Leggett, however, was staring at her daughter rather than him. “Joy, what are you doing in here?”

Her daughter looked at her as if that was a particularly silly question and waved toward the makeshift posy. “I brought Mr. Cooper some flowers, see? You said we should always thank people who do nice things for us.”

He saw the woman struggle with whether or not to chastise the girl. “True,” she said, finally. “But bothering Mr. Cooper is not a good way to thank him. I hope you didn’t wake him from his nap.”

“She wasn’t bothering me,” Nate said quickly. “I woke up on my own. But it was nice to have such a pretty face to wake up to.”

And nicer still to have Mrs. Leggett’s smiling presence here with him. Even if that smile was currently directed at her daughter.

* * *

Verity smiled as Joy preened at Mr. Cooper’s compliment. He was a much more thoughtful man than she’d first assumed. She set down her tray and turned back to Joy. “We’ll discuss this later. Why don’t you go check on Beans?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Before heading for the door, Joy turned back to the patient. “Thank you again for saving my life, Mr. Cooper. And I think you’re wrong. You really are a hero.” And with those words she skipped out of the room.

Once Joy disappeared out the door, Verity turned to her daughter’s rescuer and shook her head. “I’m afraid Joy is much too impulsive. I hope she wasn’t bothering you.”

“Not at all.” He sat up straighter and she hurried to his side, setting the tray down and plumping pillows behind him. All part of being a nurse.

He inhaled deeply. “Whatever you brought in with you smells wonderful.”

“It’s that bowl of my aunt Betty’s chicken and dumplings I promised you. I thought you might be ready for something to eat.”

He smiled and she liked the way it softened his entire face. “You thought correctly.”

Verity lifted a napkin from the tray and handed it to him, then carefully set the tray on his lap. “How’s this?”

“Fine, thank you.”

Then, as she took the spoon, he frowned. “There’s no need for you to wait on me.”

“Are you sure?” She’d been rather looking forward to feeding him. “I know your arm and shoulder are injured.”

“Just on my left side. My right arm is fine.”

“Very well.” She surrendered the spoon reluctantly. But for some reason she wasn’t quite ready to leave. After all, she needed to keep an eye on him to gauge his condition.

“I locked up your shop when I fetched Beans,” she said. Then she waved a hand to the small dresser across from his bed. “Your change of clothes is in the upper drawer and the key is on top.”

“Thank you.” He scooped up another spoonful of the chicken and dumplings, his gaze never leaving hers. “How long did I sleep?”

“About four hours. It’s after one o’clock.”

He grimaced and she hurried to reassure him.

“No, that’s a good thing. You needed the rest. It helps you to heal faster.” He didn’t appear convinced, so she changed the subject. “How does your leg feel?”

“Better.”

Not a very descriptive answer. “Uncle Grover should be in shortly to change the dressing on your arm and also have another look at your other injuries.”

“Perhaps then he’ll see that I can manage well enough to go home.”

Why was he in such a hurry to leave them? There certainly wasn’t anyone at his place to rush home to. Instead of responding to his comment, however, she crossed the room to open the curtains. “Let’s let a little more light in here, shall we?”

When she returned to his side, she lifted the tray with the now empty bowl and smiled down at him. “Would you like some more?”

“Not now, thank you. But please relay my compliments to your aunt. That was very good, especially compared to my own cooking.”

Was he dismissing her? Perhaps he wanted to rest some more. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

He seemed to hesitate a moment, then raised a brow in question. “Something to read perhaps?”

That was unexpected. “Of course. What sort of books do you like?”

“What do you have on hand?”

“I’m afraid Uncle Grover’s library consists mostly of medical tomes and journals. I believe Aunt Betty has some books of poetry and some devotionals. I have a volume of poetry, some Shakespeare, Dickens and a few of Mr. Twain’s novels. And of course some children’s stories for Joy. Oh, and I think I also still have a copy of yesterday’s Turnabout Gazette if you haven’t seen it.” She waved a hand. “If none of that is of interest, I’d be glad to find you something at Abigail’s library. Just let me know what sorts of books appeal to you.”

“I’ve read Shakespeare and Dickens. Perhaps I’ll try Twain. And I believe I will take a look at the Gazette.”

Apparently he was well educated. Now that she thought on it, there was a certain refinement that crept into his speech from time to time. It embarrassed her that she’d made so many wrong assumptions about this man. She should know better than to jump to judgments.

“I’ll fetch the book and newspaper for you as soon as I put away these dishes. Can I do anything else for you?”

After his No, thank you response, Verity made her exit and slowly headed toward the parlor, where most of the family’s books were located. Her thoughts, though, were on Mr. Cooper rather than her errand.

There was still a faint air of something less than welcoming simmering below the surface in this man, a feeling of standoffishness. But for some reason it didn’t scare her away—in fact it had just the opposite effect. She was beginning to see him as a brave, honorable, well-educated person who just needed someone to teach him to trust enough to open up.

If he had a wilder side to him, well, he seemed to have it well controlled. And that was a sign of maturity and responsibility, wasn’t it?

* * *

The sound of a tap at the door pulled Nate from his reading. One thing he could say for this place, they respected a person’s privacy. Which, after his time in prison, was another thing he’d never take for granted again.

He sat up straighter. “Come in.”

Mrs. Leggett stuck her head in the doorway. “You have a visitor, but if you’d prefer to rest I can ask him to come back at another time.”

There was only one person here in Turnabout who would be visiting him. “Not at all. Show him in.”

She gave him an assessing look, as if gauging his condition, then nodded and withdrew.

Sure enough, Adam Barr strolled through the open door a few minutes later.

“Hope I’m not disturbing you,” his friend said, “but Dr. Pratt said you’re up for visitors.”

Nate waved Adam to a chair near the bed. “Actually, other than being a bit banged up, I’m fine. I’d be back home if it was up to me, but Dr. Pratt practically strong-armed me into staying.”

“He cares about his patients,” Adam said. Then he grinned. “Are the ladies of the house smothering you with kindness?”

Smothering wasn’t exactly the word he’d use, but he let it stand. “It’s a definite change from what I’ve been used to.”

“A little female attention is never a bad thing.” Then Adam leaned back. “I hear you’ve become something of a town hero as of this morning.”

Nate grimaced. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. You and I both know there’s nothing heroic about me.”

Adam frowned. “I know nothing of the sort. In fact, I have good reason to believe otherwise.” He stroked the faded scar on his cheek, a reminder to both of them of how they’d met—in a prison fight.

When Adam had entered prison all those years ago, Nate had already been there six months. That first day, a couple of the more hardened inmates had cornered the new arrival as he exited the food line and Nate had weighed in to even the odds. The two had been friends ever since.

“That was just me looking for a fight—nothing more.”

“That’s not how I saw it.” Adam crossed his arms and gave Nate a drawn-brow look. “Besides, I spent time in prison, too. Do you think that makes me less capable of acting heroically?”

Nate gave a sharp, dismissive wave. “You didn’t belong there. I did.”

That was one reason, besides his own selfish desire to be free of his past mistakes, that he couldn’t reveal to the townsfolk that he’d spent time in prison. Because, since folks knew that he and Adam were already acquainted, any confession on his part might cause speculation about Adam’s own past.

“You had your reasons for what you did.” Adam shrugged. “But be that as it may, you served your time, so your debt is paid. And everyone deserves a second chance.”

He had come to Turnabout looking for a fresh start, a place to begin again without the anchor of his past to weigh him down. Knowing that his friend believed in him allowed him to have faith that he might be able to pull it off.

He just wished he felt as if he deserved this second chance. He knew the Good Lord had forgiven him long ago, but he was still having trouble forgiving himself.

Then Adam changed the subject. “So how long do you plan to lie around here lollygagging?”

“Assuming Dr. Pratt doesn’t tie me to my bed, I’m heading back to my place in the morning.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be in too big a hurry. I hear Mrs. Pratt is quite a cook.”

“You’ve heard correctly. I’ve already sampled her chicken and dumplings and it has my own cooking beat by a mile.” Then he turned serious. “Which reminds me, would you mind letting Mrs. Ortolon know I may not be able to help her at the boardinghouse for the next several days?” He touched the bandage on his arm. “I definitely won’t be swinging an ax anytime soon.” He’d been doing odd jobs at the boardinghouse in the evenings for meals and pocket change to help him get by until his business was better established.

“I’m sure she already knows, but I’ll stop by when I leave here.”

“Thanks.” Nate brushed at a bit of lint on his coverlet. “Mrs. Leggett—she’s a widow, I take it.”

“She is. Her husband died a little over a year ago. She and Joy moved back here shortly after it happened.”

Some time had passed, then. Of course, he knew from his own experience that one never totally “got over” the death of a loved one. “So she wasn’t living here when he passed away.” He hoped she’d had friends, people she could lean on, around her.

Adam shook his head then shifted in his seat. “There’s something you should probably know if you’re going to be around Mrs. Leggett much—her husband’s passing wasn’t peaceful. He died of a gunshot.”

Nate froze for a moment as that sunk in. That must have been horrific for her. Had she witnessed it? Had Joy?

Then Adam cleared his throat and gave him a look that had a touch of sympathy in it. “It happened during a bank robbery.”

Nate dropped back against his pillow as all the implications of that news thundered down around him like a rockslide.