“Really? Where?”
“A couple of places.”
“A couple of places,” she repeated. “Two? That’s all?”
“Three, actually.” He lowered his shaggy head. “That’s all it took, Hattie, for me to see the truth. Nobody in this town is going to hire me.” He exhaled loudly, then raised his gaze to meet hers. “Except Josiah, I suppose. He’s not too particular about who shovels the shit around here.”
Hattie blushed again. His foul language should offend her. It didn’t. Somehow it seemed natural, and for some reason hearing it come out of Willie’s mouth didn’t bother her in the least.
Maybe it was the sincerity she heard behind the words. She understood exactly what Willie meant. People could be quick to judge, quick to assume the worst about somebody.
“That’s not fair. You’ve done nothing wrong, Willie.” A bit of encouragement might spur him on. “Don’t let others bring your down. Hold your head high. In time, people will come around. I’m sure of it. People will realize how unkind they’ve been toward you.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe in time…” He shrugged. “But what am I supposed to do meanwhile?” He ran his hands through his mussed hair.
An unruly lock fell forward. Hattie checked herself, wanting to reach out and smooth it back from his broad forehead. She wasn’t a nurse-in-training now. She wasn’t at the hospital caring for a patient. Only a young woman hoping to reassure a friend. Putting her hands behind her back, she clasped them tightly.
“I suppose a good man would simply do whatever he must, don’t you think?”
“A good man?” Willie squinted at her. “Are you saying you think I’m a good man? Or that I could be a good man?”
“I’m not sure why my opinion should matter. What’s important is what you think.”
Secretly, she hoped that her opinion might matter somewhat, but she wouldn’t dare admit that aloud.
“That’s probably the sort of man you’d respect, I suppose.”
“Yes, I suppose I would.”
Willie seemed to chew on that thought for a moment. Hattie remained silent. The only sounds were the soft neighs of horses, the mewling of a kitten, and the rhythmic sounds of steel tines scraping over the ground as Josiah pitched fresh hay into the stalls.
A new light had come into his eyes, Hattie noticed, when Willie took a step toward her.
Warmth shimmied down her spine.
“Could you truly respect me, Miss Richards, knowing what an obnoxious fellow I’ve been all these years? Knowing, too,” he added, “how far I’ve fallen?”
“Everybody falls down from time to time. Are you willing to pick yourself up? If so, of course, I’ll respect you.”
Willie squared his shoulders. He glanced toward the long-limbed man in the dirty overalls. “Hey, Josiah? Where’s that shovel?”
Hattie smiled. Although she kept quiet, her heart swelled inside her chest.
* * * *
Working for Josiah wasn’t nearly as bad as Willie expected. Several times during the first week, Hattie came strolling by—checking up on him, of course—and once she even stopped to chat on the pretext that Dr. Kellerman wanted to know how Willie’s leg was holding up.
“Coming along fine,” he reported, then immediately wished he could take back the words. If his leg pained him, he could use that as a convenient excuse for visiting the hospital. Maybe a sweet nurse with wistful gray eyes would give him a bit of care.
A man could dream, right?
Now, as the second week drew to a close, Willie had grown accustomed to the routine.
As he scraped the shovel over the floor, scooping up excrement, his nose wrinkled. Not that the smell of manure was altogether unpleasant. Actually, it had a rich earthiness about it that made him think of fields of beans, potatoes, and grains—staple crops in the fertile soil around Sunset. It made him think, too, of the virtue of hard work, the benefits gained by exerting a bit of effort in return for a steady wage.
All the same, he hated shoveling horseshit. He’d been born for greater things.
“Morning, Willie.”
He glanced up and grunted.
Caleb Bryant tipped his hat and offered a wry smile. “Working hard?”
Detecting a slight note of sarcasm in the sheriff’s voice, Willie tightened his grip on the shovel. “Yeah, I am. Might look like a dirty job to most folks, but at least it’s an honest living. I’m not ashamed of what I’m doing, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The words coming out of his mouth surprised him. Funny how a man could hate what he did yet still take a bit of pride in doing it.
“Wasn’t thinking that at all. Actually, I’m damned glad to see you getting your life back together. For a while, I wasn’t sure it would ever happen.” His expression turned serious, and he studied Willie with a somber gaze. “Sometimes a fellow gets himself so low, it’s hard to pick himself back up again.”
“Maybe so.” He stopped shoveling, leaned against the handle, and gave that remark a bit of thought. “Then again,” he remarked, “when a man’s too far down, the only direction he can go is up.”
The sheriff scratched at his chin. “Wise words. I’ll have to remember those.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a job to do.” Willie picked up the shovel and gestured toward a pile of manure. “You know Josiah actually sells this shit?”
Bryant nodded. “Sort of inspiring, when you think about it.” He must have caught the skeptical look Willie gave him. “What I mean,” he went on, “is if you step back and look at the world around us, you can’t help but feel there’s a plan to it all, like there’s some sort of natural order to things.”
Willie chuckled. Sheriff Bryant was a good man and a damned fine officer of the law, but he had a philosophical streak that left people shaking their heads as often as not.
“I’m sure you’ve got a point in there somewhere. I can’t see it myself,” he admitted.
“Here’s how it works. Grass grows. Horses eat the grass. They digest it, crap it out, you scoop it up, and Josiah sells it for fertilizer. Farmers buy it, spread it around, and it makes the grass grow again.” Bryant let out a deep exhalation. “See how it all fits together, Willie?”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” It did make a little sense—in a crazy sort of way—but as far as Willie could tell, it didn’t mean anything, really. All the same, he had this instinctive sense that the sheriff’s words were supposed to mean something. Maybe he just wasn’t smart enough to figure it out. “Look, I’ve got to get back to work.” Glancing around, he caught sight of Beardsley on the other side of the barn. “Hey, Josiah, once I finish up here, what do you want me to do next?”
The old man in the dirty overalls shook his head. His long, stringy hair swung from side to side. “You ain’t much good for anything else, to tell the truth. That bad leg of yours makes you all but worthless when it comes to doing any real work.” He frowned as he approached. “You ain’t even much good at scraping up shit and sweeping the floors.”
“I’m doing the best I can.” Willie’s face heated. He lowered his gaze. Damn, but he hated disappointing people. Seems like he’d done a lot of that over the years. He’d never lived up to his mother’s expectations. His father’s, either, although that seemed irrelevant now. Most of all, he’d failed to live up to his own expectations.
At the start, he hadn’t been too keen on working at the livery, but now that he’d been given the job, he didn’t like letting Josiah down. And what about Hattie? If he lost this job, Willie knew he’d lose any chance of ever earning her respect or her friendship.
Sheriff Bryant cleared his throat. “You know, Willie, I’m needing a little help over at the jail. Hank’s not too reliable, and he doesn’t like hanging around the place in the evenings. Doesn’t think that’s a job a deputy ought to do.”
For the last year, Sheriff Bryant and Deputy Hank Goddard had been rivals for the affections of Miss Molly Munro. Willie couldn’t keep up with who
was currently winning the battle. Miss Munro seemed to enjoy leading both on a merry chase. The situation had definitely created problems in the working relationship between the two men.
“What are you suggesting?” His interest aroused, Willie squared his shoulders and looked up again. “What sort of help do you need?”
“I’m thinking we might need someone to keep an eye on the place at night. Wouldn’t involve much, really. Mostly you’d just need to be there, check on the prisoners, and make sure the cells are locked up.”
The jail in Sunset rarely held any actual criminals. Mostly Sheriff Bryant threw a man behind bars only to teach him a lesson. Abe Hubbard ended up there every time his wife showed up with bruises on her cheeks, and some of the cowpokes from nearby ranches were guests at the jail when they came to town, got rowdy, and created a ruckus of some sort. Of course, Willie had spent his share of nights sleeping it off in a cell after his drunken sprees. Obviously, the sheriff’s tactics didn’t work all that well. Nobody seemed to be learning much.
Willie shook his head. “Yeah, right. I’m sure the folks of Sunset would sleep better at night, knowing I was there guarding the jail. Hell, Bryant, have you lost your mind? Nobody in this town has any trust in me. You’d probably have the mayor and the entire town council coming down on you if you hired me.”
Josiah Beardsley let out a laugh. “He’s joking, Willie. Ain’t nobody who’d give you a responsibility like that. Not after what your old man did. Folks figure you to be as untrustworthy as he was.”
“I’m not joking.” Caleb Bryant pushed his hat back on his head and stared down at both men. “I’m not hiring your father. He ran afoul of the law, but that’s got nothing to do with whether or not I can trust you.”
Willie choked back emotions. Working for the sheriff would be a damned sight easier than scraping up horseshit. A lot more respectable, too.
Something stirred inside of him, made him think again of all the old dreams he’d had. Maybe he could pick up a few law books, spend a little time reading and studying during the long nights.
“When would you want me to start?” He held his breath.
“Reckon you need to work that out with Josiah, see when he’d be willing to let you go.”
His boss stepped up, clapped an arm over Willie’s shoulder, and grinned. “Finish up here, then go get some rest. If you’re going to be staying awake all night, you’ll need to get some sleep today.”
“Yes, sir. But I can’t sleep yet. I’ve got something I want to do first.”
As soon as he finished work, he’d clean himself up, then make a little jaunt over to see Hattie Mae. He could sleep later. He could dream later.
* * * *
Hattie strolled along the porch, watering can in hand. With no patients to tend, she’d taken on the responsibility of caring for Charlotte’s flower boxes. The delicate, colorful geraniums added a bright touch to the porch. The blossoms gave the hospital a look of home and helped to set patients at ease when they came to see the doctor for treatments. The pink and purple buds always brought a smile to Hattie’s face, as well.
Her studies were progressing nicely, and Dr. Kellerman was quite pleased with her work, even suggesting again that instead of training with him at the hospital, perhaps she should consider attending one of the nursing colleges in the country. There were nearly a dozen of them now. He offered to give her a good recommendation.
But Hattie could never afford the cost of nursing school. Besides, going off to college would mean leaving Sunset. It would mean leaving Willie.
She sighed as she poured water around a delicate pink bloom, watching as the soil eagerly soaked up the moisture. Hattie had soaked up Willie’s attention every bit as quickly, as though she were some wilted blossom craving attention. He shouldn’t figure in her plans. But, of course, he did.
“You’re deep in thought there, Miss Hattie Mae.”
Shocked to hear Willie’s voice, she whirled around. How long had he been standing there? How long had he been watching? She blushed, fearing that he might somehow have the ability to read her mind and know that she’d been thinking about him. Mooning over him to be precise.
“I’m considering a difficult decision,” she said by way of explanation. Hattie set down the watering can, then realizing the time, she frowned. “Why aren’t you working? You haven’t quit your job, have you?” She braced herself, wanting to be prepared for the inevitable bad news that would surely follow. Her mind raced. How could she help Willie if he refused to help himself?
He shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose you could say I quit. Or you could also say Josiah let me go. Either way would be right, I guess.”
She let out a groan, caught between an inexplicable sadness and a sense of outrage. “But, why, Willie? Did something happen?” Clenching her hands into tight fists, she fought to hold back all the words threatening to spill out. Hattie wanted to shout at him, to scold him for whatever he’d done wrong, and send him right back to Josiah Beardsley to beg for another chance. Oh, how she wanted to lecture him on the virtues of responsibility. She had to find some way to make him realize how important it was for him to take charge of his life again.
Of course, she could never speak those thoughts aloud, which made them all the more painful to bear.
And why was Willie standing there grinning at her like those braying jackasses at the livery?
“I quit,” he said, “because I got a better job. Josiah was willing to let me go so that I could start that new job tonight.”
“A new job? You’re going to work…tonight?” She frowned, unable to think of a single job a man might do at night that didn’t involve saloons, drinking, or worse. But, then again, she spent many of her nights working at the hospital, so there were respectable positions that required odd hours.
“I’ll be working for the sheriff now.” Willie’s grin broadened.
As Hattie listened to his recounting of the morning’s events, she, too, broke into a huge smile. She clapped her hands together, sharing his excitement. “You see, I told you things would work out for you.”
“You were right.” Hope shone in his eyes. “I’m making a few other changes, too. I won’t be sleeping at the stables anymore.”
“Where will you stay?”
“Sheriff Bryant put in a good word for me with Eben Godwin’s widow. She’s got a few rooms to rent. She’s going to let me have one at an affordable rate.”
“Tansy Godwin?” Hattie laughed. “She’s a lovely lady, I’m sure, but a stickler for rules, or so I’ve heard.” She bent forward, leaned over the porch railing and whispered, “I’d advise you to be on your best behavior.”
“No pranks?” he teased. “I’m to be a gentleman?”
“At all times, yes.” She spoke in a shrill, high-pitched voice, shaking a finger at him in playful mockery of Helen Brundage, her former headmistress at the female academy. “You must always watch your step.” Willie’s woebegone expression made her laugh once more. “It won’t really be as awful as you make it seem,” she assured him, her voice her own once more. “In fact, being a gentleman has definite advantages.”
“Name one.” Willie put his hands on the porch rail and gazed up at her.
A giddiness came over Hattie. Was Willie flirting with her? She wished she had nerve enough to flirt back, to suggest that gentlemen were allowed to call upon ladies, could enter into a proper courtship, but she wouldn’t dare suggest such an outrageous thing.
“Well…” Surely there must be some little advantage she could present to him. Her mind had somehow turned to mush. She couldn’t come up with a single thing to bolster her case.
His laugh broke the awkward silence. “Never mind. I’d better get back now. If I plan to stay awake all night, I’ll need to get some sleep.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I just thought you might want to hear the news, that’s all.”
“I’m glad you dropped by. Thank you for telling me about the job.”
>
They were acting like silly children, shuffling about, nervously twisting their hands, speaking and looking away. Hattie knew she did that sort of thing—a lot—but it tickled her to see Willie suddenly acting like an adolescent caught in the throes of his first mash on a girl.
And was she that girl?
The thought took her breath.
“Before I go…” Willie looked up, his mouth set in a most determined line.
“Yes, was there something you wanted to ask?”
“I’ve been thinking a bit, looking forward to having a little time off.”
“I do the same,” Hattie admitted.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve gone to the old creek. Do you like to fish, Hattie?” The question rushed out on a breath. “I was wondering if you might want to go along with me. I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he said, his expression so somber and serious she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Is that a promise?”
“Is this an acceptance?”
“That’s not fair, Willie. It’s not right to answer one question with another, but to answer it, yes, I’ll accept your invitation, but only on the condition that you do promise to be a gentleman.”
“I’ll come by for you shortly past noon on Saturday.”
“All right. I’ll be ready and waiting.”
He tipped his hat and then he was gone.
Hattie stood staring after him, her heart thumping so fast she felt light-headed and dizzy. She’d never been fishing before and had no idea what would be expected of her. What would she wear? How was she supposed to act? Didn’t fishermen sometimes use worms for bait? Would she have to actually touch one of the wriggly creatures?
“Oh, dear. What have I gotten myself into now?”
Grabbing the watering can, she rushed inside and headed toward Dr. Kellerman’s library. Maybe she could find the answers in one of his many encyclopedias.
Chapter Six
Time flies.
As Willie climbed aboard the buggy he’d rented at Beardsley’s establishment, then picked up the reins and set off down the main street of town, those words stuck in his brain. While he was in the hospital, Hattie had used those words often, attaching them to a dozen different sayings, all in hopes of bolstering his flagging spirits.
NoRegretsColeNC Page 7
