“Put it on the table.”
Damn, but he’d sure as hell misjudged Hattie Mae Richards. His lovely little nurse had lied to him, had struck a bargain, and then gone right ahead and posted the letter against his wishes.
Now he had a reply from his mother, the first word he’d heard from her in months. He had no reason to read it. He could guess what it said.
Sober up.
Come home.
He had no desire to do either.
Of course, at the moment, he was sober, indeed, and had no choice but to stay that way for a while. Once he got out of that damned bed and away from the hospital—Dr. Kellerman, his wife, and that lying, conniving Hattie Mae Richards—he meant to head straight for the Red Mule. He’d talk Jake Walker into loaning him a buck or two for a stake, and maybe he’d have better luck at the poker table now than in the past.
Or maybe he could step out in front of another freight wagon. Next time, he’d make sure it was a bigger one, a faster one.
Hell, why didn’t he just go jump off a cliff? He’d seen a man put an end to his life that way. Now, he cringed as thoughts of the past crowded into his head. He pushed the memories away and resolved not to let them in again.
“You going to read that letter, Willie?”
He glared up at the doctor. “Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t feel up to it.”
“You feel up to talking?”
“What’s there to talk about?”
Although not intended as such, the words must have sounded like an invitation. The doctor’s slow footsteps thudded through the room as he pulled a chair close to the bed.
Hattie’s chair.
Willie nearly spoke up to tell Kellerman he couldn’t sit there, but then he remembered Hattie’s guile. They were all in it together, all conspiring against him. He should have figured it out sooner.
Dr. Kellerman cleared his throat. He had a somber expression on his face. Willie didn’t like the way the man looked at him, but, truth be told, he didn’t like much about Dr. Kellerman to begin with, despite the fact the man had saved his life…or, more to the point, because the damned doctor had kept him alive.
The only thing worse than a drunkard, he’d once heard, was a reformed drunkard. Men who’d sobered up, or got on the wagon as they called it, were always the ones who shouted the loudest about the evils of drink and the dangers of inebriation, the ones who believed that their personal victories gave them the right to tell other people how to live. Willie had no interest in hearing any of the doctor’s lectures.
Abner Kellerman settled into the chair, leaned forward with hands on his knees, and stared right into Willie’s eyes. “We could talk about your leg, I suppose, or we could discuss the reasons why you were hell-bent on doing away with yourself.”
Willie stiffened. “It was an accident. I’d had too much to drink.” Jesus, Joseph, and Mary. The man had him pegged. He’d meant for it to at least look like an accident.
“Yes, yes, so you say.” He shook his head. “Denial doesn’t solve anything, and right now, I don’t think you understand the seriousness of your condition. I’m not talking about your leg, by the way. That will heal, in time. I’m talking about your problems with drink.”
“I don’t have a problem with it. I know my limits.”
“I know how it is. I’ve been where you are.”
Willie closed his eyes. “Right now, my only problem is that I’m stuck here in this damned bed. How long am I going to be here?”
“That’s up to you, Willie.”
“Fine. Get me my clothes, hand me my bill, and let me get the hell out of here.” Too weak to stand or even sit up, he could only make a few feeble movements. “Damn it.” He fell back against the pillow. “For real, Doc, how long am I going to be here?”
“Like I said, that’s up to you.”
“You’re the doctor. You’re supposed to be the one making the decisions.”
“I make the medical decisions. You’re the one who’s got to decide whether you want to live.”
“What kind of talk is that?” Willie blinked, thinking back to a conversation he’d had with the doctor a few days earlier. “You told me my chances were good, said I’d probably pull through, be as good as new.”
“I believe I said almost as good as new.” Kellerman leaned back. He seemed to be intent on studying the ceiling. “It’s not the leg that’s going to kill you. It’s the drink, and you know that as well as I do.”
“What I do and how I live my life is my choice. Like you said, Doc, you make the medical decisions. The rest is up to me.”
“Which is why you’re the one who’ll decide when you’re ready to walk out that door.” He turned his attention to Willie again. “You think I don’t know how you’re feeling? Let me tell you, I know all too well what’s going through that muddled brain of yours.”
Willie cocked a brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re thinking that your circumstances are different, that what’s happened to you somehow justifies being a drunken fool.”
“Well, I think—”
“Nobody gives a damn what you think, all right? You think you’re entitled to your misery, that nobody’s ever had quite such a rough row to hoe as what you’ve got. Hell, Willie, look at how bad off I was.”
The doctor’s first wife had died years before of some rare disease. Abner had taken it hard, had gone on a drinking binge that lasted more than a decade. It was only when he met Charlotte—another sot at the time—that the both of them found the courage to sober up and change their lives.
“Yeah, I know all about it,” Willie said.
“I’d lost the love of my life, felt the Lord had given me more than I could bear, and there I was a doctor, you know. I should have saved her, should have known how to fix whatever ailed her. But I couldn’t.”
Willie nearly interrupted but caught himself. At some deep level, he understood the doctor’s grief. Emotions stirred within him. Emotions he didn’t want. Emotions he didn’t need.
“Took me a long time to figure it out, you know. Wasn’t until I met Charlotte—”
“She was in worse shape than you, from what I’ve heard. You weren’t anything more than a damned, disgusting drunk. She was a filthy whore.”
Abner nodded. “And thank the Lord those days are behind us now. Thank the Lord that we came together, had a chance to learn from our mistakes, and found the strength to turn our lives around.”
“I’m real happy for both of you.” Willie didn’t give a whit about the Kellermans and their salvation. They had each other for support. He had nobody, and if wouldn’t matter if he did give up drink. All the problems would still be staring him in the face, and nobody in Sunset—or Denver, or, for that matter, the entire state of Colorado—would ever let him forget his father’s sins. After what looked to be a long, estimable career, the greed and corruption of Judge William Howard Morse had been exposed for all the world to see. The father Willie had revered proved to be as crooked as the men he sentenced. “Just go away, old man. Leave me alone.”
“All right. I can see you’re not ready to listen. It’s a pity, Willie, but until you’re ready to help yourself, there’s nothing anybody else can do for you.”
Dr. Kellerman replaced the chair along the wall and strode from the room without another word.
Willie had his eyes closed again, but as soon as he knew the doctor was gone, he opened them, surprised to see Hattie standing at the doorway. How long had she been there? Funny thing, he hadn’t sensed her presence at all.
Instead of her usual cheerful smile, she wore a look of dismay upon her face. Her cheeks were pale. Her hands clasped tightly together, she inched her way into the room, as if she were afraid to come in. A nervous energy surrounded her. Tension crackled through the air.
She’d lied to him and hell, yes, he harbored a lot of anger against her, but damn it, he didn’t want her to be scared of him.
Might a
s well get it all out in the open straight away.
“I never thought you’d be one to welsh on a bargain, Miss Richards.”
Was that a guilty look he saw on her lovely face when she glanced toward the letter on the table?
“I’m sorry. Yes, I posted the letter to your mother.”
“You agreed not to send it. We made a bargain, don’t you remember?”
“Dr. Kellerman figured me out somehow. He made me post the letter.” Hattie chewed on her lower lip. But then, her countenance brightened. “So you’ve heard from your mother? Is she coming to see you?”
“I haven’t read it,” he said, shrugging in the general direction of the letter. Before the girl could scold him about that, he grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. It was as he’d expected. “No, she’s not coming. All that letter did was upset her. She’s got trouble enough to deal with. She’s got enough on her mind without worrying about whether or not I’ll live or die.”
“You’re going to live, Mr. Morse.”
“Yes, unfortunately, I suppose I am.”
“Are you really so unhappy in your life?” She shook her head. “Never mind. I shouldn’t pry. I’m sorry about the letter. I got caught in the lie, and I’m lucky that Dr. Kellerman didn’t send me away.” Her face screwed up.
Willie sensed the emotions churning through Hattie’s head and heart. How did the poor girl survive being such an innocent? Reality was so different from how she wished to see the world. Little wonder something so simple as the truth could leave her confounded.
But, since when had truth ever been simple?
“Yeah, well, next time, don’t make bargains you don’t intend to keep, all right?”
“I’ve learned my lesson. I regret ever making that agreement with you, and I assure you, it won’t happen again. No more bargains. No more deals.”
“You shouldn’t regret it, Hattie.”
Her face puckered up. “But you just said…”
“I know what I said. All the same, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that regrets don’t do anybody any good.” His father had taught him that principle. He had raised Willie to do what he believed in—right or wrong—and not look back.
“I see your point,” Hattie replied, “but when someone makes a mistake, of course, they’ll regret it.”
“No. No regrets. That’s the only way to live.”
“I’m not sure I agree.” She sighed. “But what does it matter, really?”
Willie studied her, quickly realizing that something more was on her mind. Something that had nothing at all to do with him, his anger, or her lies.
“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?” He shifted about in the bed. His leg ached, but at least, he still had it, and damn it all, maybe he should be grateful to still be alive—and in one piece. “Look, I’m sorry I took you to task. You did what you had to do, and for what it’s worth, I’m glad you weren’t sent away. I would have missed you.” He looked away, almost embarrassed by his admission.
A hint of a smile showed on Hattie’s lips but then disappeared. “Now who’s having regrets?” The words came out softly and slowly. A sigh followed. “All the same, apology accepted, and to answer your question, nothing is wrong. I’m quite all right.”
She raised a hand to her cheek and quickly turned away but not before Willie caught sight of the tears.
“I never meant to make you cry.”
Hattie shook her head. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”
“What is it? Maybe I can help.”
Hattie lifted her chin then glanced toward the open doorway. Willie’s gaze followed hers, but he saw no one.
“I’m such a terrible liar. It’s little wonder Dr. Kellerman saw right through me about the letter. And now, you’re seeing through me, too.” Hattie turned to face him. “I’m quite shaken, actually.”
“About what?”
She whirled about in a whoosh of skirts and petticoats. “Is it true? All that I heard?” She steepled her hands in front of her face, as if in supplication. “Please, say it isn’t so.”
Perplexed, he narrowed his gaze. His tongue came out to wet his lips while he puzzled over her odd behavior.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Color rose to her cheeks. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. Really, I wasn’t. It’s wrong to deliberately listen to someone else’s private conversation. But I happened to overhear what was said between you and Dr. Kellerman.” Each word carried a solemn weight.
“I still don’t understand.” He made an awkward shrug. Movement of any kind caused excruciating pain. “What I mean is, we weren’t discussing anything that’s not common knowledge. You’ve known all along what a good-for-nothing drunkard I’ve become in recent months.”
Her eyes widened to pools of gray. “For pity’s sake, don’t be so wrapped up in yourself. I’m not talking about you, Willie Morse.” Her face scrunched up. Willie couldn’t tell if she was about to let go of a laugh or burst into fresh tears. A breath shuddered from her lips. Her breasts rose and fell. “I’m talking about Dr. Kellerman. He’s a good man. A fine doctor.”
“Yes, he is.”
“You called him a drunkard! And worse still, you called Mrs. Kellerman, a—” She shook her head, obviously unable to utter the word.
“A whore.” He spat it out for her. “Just being honest, Miss Richards.” He brought his hands up, folded them together, and rested them on his chest.
The shock on the girl’s face amused him, brought back some of the pleasure he used to find from taunting others. She didn’t deserve to be bullied or teased, but he couldn’t stop. For the first time since he’d stepped out in front of that oncoming freight wagon, he felt his old self stirring about inside of him. Not the drunken, down-on-his-luck Willie Morse of late, but the one who used to always take command of situations, the one with the quick wit, the sharp tongue, the ability to put others in their place. The one who truly lived his life with no regrets.
“You’re lying. It can’t possibly be true.”
“How long have you been living in Sunset? Not very long,” he pointed out, giving her no opportunity to answer. “You didn’t know Dr. Kellerman before. You didn’t know Charlotte Kellerman, either.”
Hattie sank down at the foot of the bed, obviously forgetting the rule that she was not supposed to be sitting there. “How could it be? It doesn’t seem possible. They’re so kind, so considerate. They do so much to help people, and yet you’re telling me they were both good-for-nothing sots?” She shook her head. “No, you’ve got to be wrong. I refuse to believe it.”
When she rose to her feet, her demeanor changed completely. She’d obviously come to a conclusion she found acceptable, and she now considered the matter settled. The girl would believe only what she wished. A dangerous precept, in Willie’s mind.
He snorted. “You’re such an innocent. Is it for real, Miss Richards? Or is it only an act?”
Bewilderment shone in her luminous eyes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean.”
Truly, she didn’t, and Willie almost regretted his hasty remarks. Almost, but not quite. Maybe Miss Hattie Mae needed to take a good, long look at herself. Although innocence counted as a virtue in a young woman, it should be tempered with a willingness to accept reality. A female left herself vulnerable otherwise.
“What I mean,” he replied, stretching slightly in hopes of finding a more comfortable position, “is that you’re so insistent about seeing what’s good, you don’t consider any other possibilities.”
“Are you saying it’s wrong to see the good in others?” She drew back as if she’d been physically struck. “I’m sorry, but I can’t agree. In fact, I wish more people understood how important it is to see what’s good in this world.”
Willie watched her agitated movements with a growing amusement. Never before had Hattie Mae raised her voice to him. Now, standing before him, she came alive. Her eyes flashed, and a spot o
f color rose to her cheeks as she quickly defended her beliefs. He folded his hands and tried to hold back a chuckle. It slipped out.
“Are you making fun of me, Mr. Morse?” She leaned forward, hands fisted on her hips, and whirled around. With her lips puckered and her neck craned out, Hattie reminded him of a goose. A very angry goose.
“No, not at all. I’m just observing you.” Another laugh threatened, but he swallowed it back, choking and coughing to keep his glee in check.
At once, Hattie flew across the room, poured water from the drinking pitcher, and handed the glass to him.
“Drink this. Slowly, please.”
He shook his head. “I’m all right. But I seem to have upset you,” he said, looking up at her. “Or, as some folks might say, I’ve ruffled your feathers.”
Her spine stiffened. Standing ram-rod straight, she stared at him. Although her mouth dropped open, no words came out.
“It’s all right,” he assured her. “I’m glad you spoke your mind. I was beginning to wonder if you had one.”
Now, her lovely eyes widened. “Yes, of course, I have a mind, Mr. Morse.”
“It’s good to see that you have opinions, too. Most of the time you seem to be spouting off clever little bits of wisdom you’ve gleaned from other people.” He flashed an indulgent smile. “Indeed, I’m pleased to know that you’ve got a brain in that pretty little head of yours.”
The color in her cheeks deepened to bright scarlet.
“Excuse me, Mr. Morse, but I think I should go now.” She headed for the door.
He hadn’t meant to drive her away, but then, what in hell had he intended? That mean streak took over again.
“What if there’s something I want?” he called after her. “Aren’t you supposed to tend to my needs? Don’t you have to make sure I’m comfortable before you leave?”
She stopped. With one hand on the doorknob, she turned to glance over her shoulder. “You’re right, Mr. Morse, of course.” Hattie’s shoulders rose and fell as she took in several breaths. Finally she found her voice again. “Is there anything more you require?”
He could have said so many things. Oh, but the words that might have come out of his mouth! Somehow, the stricken look on her face managed to silence him. Teasing and taunting her no longer seemed to be such sport.
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