Second Chance Hero

by Winnie Griggs

  “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.

  Chapter Six

  After Adam had gone, Nate retrieved his book, but he didn’t open it immediately.

  Adam’s revelation changed everything. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t trespass on this family’s hospitality any longer than he already had, couldn’t bear to have Mrs. Leggett look at him with that admiration and gratitude, not knowing what he now knew.

  Injured ankle or no, he’d make it back to his place. He just wished he’d thought to ask Adam to bring a wagon around to tra
nsport him.

  Deciding to test his mobility, Nate threw off the bedcovers and stood, putting all his weight on his good leg.

  Before he could try taking a step, there was another tap at the door. He clenched his jaw and sat back down on the bed, but left both feet on the floor. It might not be Mrs. Leggett. It could be Dr. Pratt or even Adam, returning to say something he’d forgotten earlier. “Come in.”

  But, of course, it was Mrs. Leggett. She halted just inside the doorway and frowned at him. “What are you doing up?”

  His frustration and guilt spilled out before he could stop them. “For goodness’ sake—I have a sprained ankle, not a bullet in my chest.”

  Her recoil brought him up short. None of this was her fault. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired of being treated like an invalid.”

  She recovered quickly. “Of course. But you do know that you have to take it easy if you want to heal properly, don’t you?”

  “I do. But I don’t take well to mollycoddling. In fact, I can get absolutely churlish. Which is why I should head on back to my place now.”

  That set her back again. “Nonsense. We’ve already agreed that you should spend the night here. Nothing’s changed.”

  Oh, but it had. In fact, everything had changed. “I know what I said earlier. But now that I’ve had my rest, I’m thinking clearer and I believe it’s better if I go on home.” He shifted, feeling at a distinct disadvantage dressed in this ridiculous nightshirt.

  She crossed her arm like a schoolmarm confronting an unreasonable child. “Uncle Grover, as an experienced physician, would certainly know better than you how to deal with your injuries. And he has stated that it’s important for someone to keep an eye on you for at least twenty-four hours.”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Then, before she could throw another argument at him, he added, “You may consider me foolhardy if you wish, but regardless of you or your uncle’s warnings, I plan to head home as soon as you leave so I can get dressed.”

  He held her gaze, refusing to back down, hoping she’d give in to his determination. If she only knew the truth about him, she’d be showing him to the door rather than trying to convince him to stay.

  Finally, the authoritative frown slipped from her expression and a furrow of uncertainty creased her brow in its place. “I see. You obviously feel quite strongly on the matter.” She slid a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. “Have we done something to offend you? Made you feel unwelcome or uncomfortable in some way?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then I don’t understand. Why the sudden change of attitude and the rush to be gone from here?”

  What could he say? That he was no longer comfortable here not because of anything they’d done but because of what he’d done, because of the kind of man he was? If he said that, he’d have to give her the whole sordid story, and this wasn’t the time or place for that. If he was lucky, that time would never come. “I just don’t want to be a bother,” he said feebly. Then he waved a hand in near surrender. “If you’re certain it won’t put you or the doctor out...”

  Her smile returned, as if he’d just given her a wonderful gift. “That’s settled, then—we’ll have no more talk of your leaving today.” She became businesslike again. “Shall I help you get settled back in the bed?”

  Nate shook his head, doing his best to not put her out more than he had to. “I’m tired of being a slugabed. I think I’ll get dressed and sit up for a while.”

  He saw the objection form on her lips, but then she seemed to think better of it. “As long as you don’t wear yourself out, I don’t see any harm in that.” She crossed the room to retrieve his change of clothing.

  As she brought it over to him, she took a quick look around the room. “If you’re going to be sitting up for a while, the most comfortable option may be to use the wheeled chair. I can put a pillow at your back to make it more comfortable.”

  “Whatever you think best.” He might as well capitulate completely.

  She wheeled the chair next to him, then retrieved a pillow from the spare bed and plumped it up against the back of the chair. Then she turned back to him with one fist planted on her hip. “I would tell you not to take advantage of the added mobility this chair gives you,” she said, her tone dry, “but I know I’d probably be wasting my breath. So instead I’ll tell you to be careful you don’t put any strain on that left arm of yours.”

  Was that actually a hint of amusement in her eyes? Surely the straitlaced widow wasn’t teasing him.

  “Do you need help with anything else?” she asked.

  “I think I can manage.”

  “Very well.” She waved toward the bell pull. “Just remember to give that a tug if you find you do need something.”

  As he watched her leave, he decided that what he most needed was to get away from here as soon as possible.

  Otherwise, his resolve to keep his distance from the intriguing—and now altogether off-limits—Mrs. Leggett was going to be very sorely tested.

  * * *

  As Verity closed the infirmary door, her smile faded. What was going on with Mr. Cooper? Why had he been so insistent that he needed to go home? It had almost seemed like he was fleeing from something.

  Did he truly prefer to be alone? That was such a heartbreaking thought.

  Well, someone needed to show him the joy that could come with being an active part of a welcoming community. This town had certainly welcomed her back with open arms when Arthur had been killed. No, more than welcomed her, they had shown her love and compassion, praying for her and with her, letting her know she was not alone in her grief.

  Of course she’d spent most of her growing-up years here in Uncle Grover’s home, had been one of them, so to speak. But she had seen these folks offer that same warm welcome to strangers who needed a place to start afresh. Like Mr. Tucker and those ten orphan children who’d arrived here last year. He’d actually ended up married to the local widow Eileen Pierce and together they’d adopted all ten children.

  Yes, sir, this town was a good place to make a new life for oneself, if one really wanted it.

  Then again, perhaps that was the problem. Did he prefer to be left alone?

  She shook her head. That was a foolish thought. Some people were forced by circumstances to cut themselves off from the world, but no one preferred to be alone. Even if a person thought that was what he wanted, he just needed to be shown the joys of having friends and neighbors who cared.

  Well, if that’s what Mr. Cooper needed, it was the least she could do for the man who had saved her daughter’s life.

  She smiled, her mind spinning with ideas of how she might accomplish that.

  * * *

  Sometime later that afternoon, Nate was roused from a light doze by a soft knock on the door. Sitting up straighter in the chair and hoping there were no traces of sleep remaining on his face, he bade the visitor enter.

  It was Mrs. Leggett again. “How are you doing?” she asked. “Tired of sitting up yet?” No doubt it was part of her job here to check in on the patients occasionally.

  He grimaced. “Actually, I’m much more tired of this forced inactivity. The book is good, but I’d prefer to be up and about.”

  “We can’t have that, but would a change of scene help? While Uncle Grover doesn’t want you to put any weight on that foot just yet, I could wheel you into the parlor or out on the porch if you’d like.” A saucy note of challenge lit her eyes. “I could even sit down to a game of chess with you, if you play. But I have to warn you, I often beat Uncle Grover when we play.”

  Despite his intention to remain aloof, Nate found himself responding to this teasing side of her. “I haven’t played chess in quite a while, but I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.”

  Within a few minut
es she had wheeled him into the parlor and up to a small table. Then she pulled the game board out from a cupboard and took a seat across from him.

  Mrs. Leggett proved to be a thoughtful, strategic player. But she also liked to chat as she contemplated her moves. “Joy is enjoying having Beans here.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She moved one of her pawns, then leaned back to wait on his countermove. “If you don’t mind my saying so, he seems like a rather odd choice of pet for a man such as yourself.”

  He shrugged. “Actually, Beans chose me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He made his move, then sat back. “I spent a few days in Kansas City on my way here. One day this ridiculously small mutt showed up outside the hotel where I was staying. It was obvious the animal had had a hard time of it.” It had been raining and the dog was wet, dirty, scratched up and obviously starving.

  “I stumbled on him at a weak moment and made the mistake of feeding him a few scraps.” Nate shrugged. “He started following me around and I couldn’t find anyone who’d lay claim to him. When he followed me to the train depot, I took him with me on impulse.”

  The truth was, the mutt reminded him of a dog his sister had adopted when she was a kid. And that’s where the name had come from, as well. Because of her pet’s dark brown coat, Susanna had named it Coffee Bean, but it had quickly been shortened to Beans.

  Nate shook off that memory and focused on Mrs. Leggett again as she moved a pawn. “I guess you could say both Beans and I came here looking for a fresh start.”

  That drew a speculative look from her. Had he revealed too much?

  He made a quick move on the chessboard, then changed the subject. “Joy is certainly an exuberant child.”

  Mrs. Leggett’s expression took on a wry twist. “She is definitely a handful. Her lack of fear scares me sometimes.”

  There was that hint of timidity again. “Most children are born fearless. They have to be taught to fear. Surely you don’t want your daughter to be fearful.”

  Her posture turned defensive. “A little bit of caution wouldn’t go amiss.”