Читать книгу Second Chance Hero - Winnie Griggs - Страница 11
ОглавлениеFor an agonizing heartbeat, as the wagon bore down on her daughter, time froze. Verity felt every irregularity in the pebble that bit into her palm, could taste the tang of blood from where she’d bit the inside of her cheek when she fell to the ground, could see the dust motes hanging in the air before her.
Please, Jesus. Please, Jesus. Please, Jesus.
She wasn’t sure whether she was uttering the frantic prayer aloud or if it was just shrieking through her thoughts.
From somewhere a woman screamed, but all sounds, save for the wagon’s relentless rumbling progress, seemed to come from a great distance.
Verity spotted the moment the wagon driver spied Joy and tried to turn his horses.
And still Joy didn’t move.
Then, from out of nowhere, Mr. Cooper shot past her, and time sped up with a whoosh. He dived toward Joy, reaching her a heart-stopping split second before the horse’s hooves would have trampled the child, and pushing her out of the way.
Without remembering having moved, Verity was suddenly kneeling in the road with her weeping daughter clutched tightly against her. Her heart thudded painfully against her chest and her breath came in near gasps. She’d come so close to losing her precious baby. She could still feel the stab of keening desolation that pierced her the moment she’d realized she couldn’t get to Joy in time. This time the prayer she sent up was one of thanksgiving.
“Mama, you’re squeezing too tight.” Joy’s querulous complaint ended on a hiccup.
Verity had to fight down the hysterical bubble of laughter that wanted to leap from her throat. Instead she loosened her hold and pushed back just enough to examine her daughter, brushing aside a tendril of Joy’s hair with fingers that trembled uncontrollably. “Don’t you ever scare Mommy like that again.”
Joy shook her head, then hiccupped again as her tears stopped.
Verity was vaguely aware that Hazel stood at her elbow and that a crowd had gathered, but her attention remained focused on reassuring herself that Joy really was okay.
Fortunately, her daughter appeared more scared and confused than hurt. The stains and smears on her pinafore were dirt, not blood.
“I’m so sorry.”
Verity looked up into the pale, worried face of Nestor James, the wagon driver.
“Please tell me your little girl’s okay,” he continued as he crushed his hat in his hands. “I didn’t see her ’til I was practically on top of her.”
“It’s not your fault, Mr. James.” Though her voice was still shaky, now that Verity knew Joy was okay she could be reasonable. “I should have kept closer watch over her. And it appears Joy isn’t hurt—just shaken up. Thanks to Mr. Cooper.”
She looked around for the man who’d saved her daughter.
And only then realized he hadn’t fared as well as Joy.
He was sitting up, his movements slow and stiff. There was a darkening bruise on his forehead, he held his left arm stiffly and his sleeve was ripped and stained with blood and dirt.
Sheriff Gleason had bent down to lend him a hand up.
Verity immediately intervened. “Don’t get up yet, Mr. Cooper. Not until I’ve had a look at you.” There was no telling how badly he might be injured.
He gave her a startled look, which she ignored. Instead she turned to Sheriff Gleason. “Keep an eye on him, please.” Then she turned back to Joy. “Do you hurt anywhere, pumpkin?”
Joy bent her right arm and lifted it for inspection. “I hurted my elbow. And Lulu got smushed.”
Quickly noting that Joy’s elbow was merely scraped, Verity bent down and gave it a kiss. “There, is that better?”
Joy nodded, swiping at the dirt and tears on her face with her other sleeve. Then she handed the doll up to her mother. Verity obediently gave the doll a kiss, as well. “There. You should both feel better once you’ve washed up a bit.”
Then she gave her daughter a stern look. “Now, I want you to stay close to Miss Hazel while I check on Mr. Cooper.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hazel took Joy’s hand and gave Verity a nod.
Inhaling a fortifying breath, Verity turned to check on the condition of the man to whom she owed so much.
* * *
Nate Cooper watched the woman’s sudden transformation with fascination. A moment ago she’d been understandably shaky, emotional, on the verge of hysteria even, over what had nearly happened to her daughter.
He would have thought that the sight of his sorry state would have pushed her even further toward hysteria. Instead, she seemed composed and even decisive. Which was something of a relief. He’d rather deal with an oncoming wagon all over again than with an overly emotional woman.
But what had she meant by have a look at you? Did she fancy herself a doctor? He’d seen the kiss-it-and-make-it-better approach she’d used with her daughter and the doll—not exactly by-the-book medicine. Though, come to think on it, he wouldn’t be particularly averse if she wanted to try that method with him...
He quickly pushed that entirely inappropriate thought aside as the woman in question knelt down beside him.
“Before I do anything else,” she said softly, “I want to tell you how unbelievably brave what you just did was, and to let you know I’m so much more than grateful. You not only saved my daughter just now, but me, as well.”
The woman’s moss-green eyes glowed with a gratitude that verged on hero worship. That shook him much more than the accident with the wagon had. He hadn’t been on the receiving end of such a look since he’d lost his sister nearly a decade ago, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. But hero worship was something he didn’t want.
Or deserve.
He’d just been at the right place at the right time—nothing more. He’d seen Beans bark at the cat and send it running across the road. He’d then seen the child follow the feline. It had been pure instinct to go after her—nothing heroic about it.
“I’ll be okay,” he said brusquely, waving the woman away with his right hand. “You should see to your daughter.”
The woman ignored his suggestion and began rolling up her sleeves. “Joy is fine, thanks to you. And that gash on your arm definitely needs some attention.”
Without waiting for a response from him, she glanced up at the crowd milling around them. “Someone get me a pail of water to clean this up. And I’ll need some clean rags, as well.”
To his surprise, several individuals from the crowd nodded and rushed off to do her bidding. Then she turned to Sheriff Gleason. “Do you have a pocketknife I can borrow?”
The lawman never hesitated. He pulled out his knife, opened it for her and handed it over.
Nate raised a hand. “Now, hold on.” These folks might trust the woman, but he wasn’t ready to let her cut on him. “What do you intend to do with that thing?”
Her brow went up and there was an amused twist to her lips. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning to operate on you. Yet.” He was only partly reassured by her dry tone.
She took the knife and, with a quick movement, sliced his already ripped shirt all the way to the cuff.
He tried one more time to wrest control from the stubborn woman. “See, it’s just a cut. I’ll be okay. If it makes you feel better I’ll go see the doctor.” He tried to push himself up, but a sharp pain shot through his left ankle and he winced involuntarily.
“You are not okay.” She put a firm hand on his right shoulder. “Don’t move until I have a look at you.” Her expression softened slightly. “Don’t worry, I do have some medical training.”
That would explain her air of authority. But was she serious? “You’re a doctor?”
“Not exactly. But the town’s doctor is my uncle and my late husband was a physician, as well. So you see, I’ve worked with doctors most of my life. I know what to do.”
The “not exactly doctor” turned to the dressmaker, who still held the little girl’s hand. “Would you mind taking Joy back to your shop until I’ve finished here?”
“Of course.” Miss Andrews smiled down at the little girl. “Come on, sweetie, let’s get you and Lulu cleaned up and then we’ll see if we can find a cookie to snack on.”
The woman’s gaze lingered on her daughter as the two walked away. But a moment later a young man set the requested pail of water at her feet and she turned to smile up at him. “Thank you, Calvin. Now would you mind running over to the clinic and letting my uncle know he’ll have a patient shortly?”
“Yes, ma’am.” And with that the young man was off again.
Finally she turned back to him. “Since I’m about to tend to your injuries,” she said with a caretaker’s smile, “I should probably introduce myself. I’m Mrs. Verity Leggett.”
Nate gave a short nod. “Mrs. Leggett. I’m Nate Cooper.”
“Now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way, let’s get this arm cleaned up, shall we, so we can see what we’re dealing with?”
He still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being examined by a female doctor, no matter how pretty or confident she was. It seemed vaguely ungentlemanly to put her through such unpleasantness. “There’s no need to trouble yourself, Mrs. Leggett. I can get myself over to the doctor—”
She didn’t let him finish. “I agree that my uncle should see you. And he will—just as soon as I make sure we have this cleaned up and the bleeding has stopped.”
She dipped a cloth in the water and then gently dabbed at the gash, cleaning away the dirt and blood with her right hand while she supported his arm with her left. Her touch was gentle but sure, and not at all unpleasant.
As Mrs. Leggett bent over him, he could smell the faint scent of honeysuckle on her, could see the glint of sunlight tease out touches of auburn in her mahogany hair. The feel of her hand supporting his arm as she gently cleaned the cut was warm and strong in a uniquely feminine kind of way.
As she bent closer to study her progress, that stray image of her kissing her daughter’s injury popped up in his mind again. Would she—
He abruptly pulled his thoughts back from that dangerous cliff. His reaction to her was a testament to how long it had been since he’d felt the gentle ministrations of a woman, nothing more. And he was certain she wouldn’t welcome any indications that he felt anything other than gratitude.
When Mrs. Leggett had the cut cleaned to her satisfaction, she leaned back and studied it. “You’re definitely going to need stitches, but I don’t believe you’ve cut anything vital.” She looked up then and met his gaze with a reassuring smile. “The bleeding has slowed, but I’m going to wrap it tight to make certain it doesn’t start flowing again before we get you to the clinic.”
When she had put action to words, she met his gaze again. “Now, your left leg seemed to be giving you problems when you tried to get up. Where does it hurt?”
So she’d picked up on that. “It’s my ankle, but I’m sure it’ll be fine in just a bit.”
She scooted over and took his booted foot in her hands, again disregarding the niceties of social behavior. Her gentle probing had him gritting his teeth, but he did his best to not show any outward signs of pain.
She gently set the foot back down. “It’s definitely swollen. I think we’ll leave the boot on until Uncle Grover is ready to examine it. But you shouldn’t be walking on it for now.” Then she met his eyes. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
His head pounded, his shoulder and ankle throbbed and he was starting to feel light-headed. Nothing a little rest wouldn’t cure. “No.”
Her raised eyebrow told him she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t press. Instead she gave his good arm a light pat. “Don’t worry, we’re going to take very good care of you.”
Despite his reservations, he had to admit he liked the sound of that.
Mrs. Leggett made as if to stand and the sheriff was at her elbow, lending her a hand.
She smiled up at the lawman. “Thank you, Sheriff. Would you find some men to help carry Mr. Cooper over to the clinic? I’ll go on ahead to help my uncle get things ready.”
The sheriff tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”
Carry him? “That won’t be necessary. I just need a little help getting up.”
She gave him a don’t-be-ridiculous look. “You won’t be doing any walking on that ankle, at least not until Uncle Grover takes a look at it.”
The woman wasn’t shy about giving orders. “Well, I certainly don’t intend to let myself be carried through town like a sack of flour. I’d rather hobble. If I could borrow a shoulder to use as support—”
“Your hurt ankle is on the same side as your hurt arm so it would be inadvisable to put any strain on it.”
She even talked like a doctor.
Before he could protest again, the man who’d been driving the wagon stepped forward. “I can take him to your uncle’s clinic in the back of my wagon, if you like?”
Nate clamped down an uncharitable stab of annoyance that the man’s words were directed at Mrs. Leggett rather than him.
But the doctor’s niece nodded, as if she, too, thought it was her decision to make. “Thank you, Mr. James, that will work nicely. I’ll leave this in your and Sheriff Gleason’s very capable hands.” And with another reassuring but rather condescending smile for him, Mrs. Leggett turned and walked into the dress shop. A moment later she stepped out again with her daughter held on her hip. With the little girl’s head snuggled against her shoulder, she marched down the sidewalk.
His eyes followed her progress until she turned a corner and disappeared from view. He still couldn’t quite get over her transformation into a coolheaded, would-be doctor. When she’d stopped in front of his store on her way to the dress shop, he’d gotten the impression that she was more diffident than decisive. But just now, she hadn’t had the least bit of hesitation about taking charge and issuing orders. And she also hadn’t been the least bit put off by either the blood, ugly gash or the fact that she’d had to kneel in the middle of the dusty street to minister to him.
Now that she’d tended to him, she’d changed back into the concerned mother again.
The movement of the wagon pulled his thoughts away from the puzzle Mrs. Leggett presented and onto more immediate matters. He watched as the men maneuvered the vehicle right up beside him, then braced himself to stand. His left side had taken the brunt of the blow. Both his shoulder and ribs felt as if they were on fire, and the gash she’d taken such pains to clean and wrap protested any time he attempted to move his arm. His ankle was the most problematic, though. She hadn’t really needed to warn him not to place any weight on it—the offending joint was doing a thorough job of that all by itself.
But as long as nothing was broken, he should be able to deal with the discomfort, even if it meant using crutches to get around. After all, he didn’t need the use of his legs to do his job. And he certainly couldn’t afford for this to keep him out of commission for long. He was still in the process of getting his fledgling business established.
Not that he regretted his actions. Better he get hurt than something happen to that little girl.
Sheriff Gleason bent down. “I think it best you shove your pride aside for now and allow us to help you into that wagon. Mrs. Leggett isn’t going to be happy if I let you put weight on that ankle of yours.” He grinned. “And right now I’m more worried about her druthers than I am yours.”
Nate nodded. Being helped into a wagon might not be the most dignified way to board, but it was a good sight better than getting carried through town.
The sheriff nodded toward one of the other men. “Jeff, lend me a hand here.” The two men positioned themselves on either side of Nate, then helped him up. The action shot a bolt of pain down his left side, and he had to clamp down hard not to let loose with a string of expletives. He’d spent too much time away from the company of God-fearing folk—he was having to learn how to act in polite company all over again.
The sheriff climbed in beside him, presumably to keep him from falling out, then called to Nestor to get moving.
Nate gritted his teeth throughout the jarring, interminable-seeming ride to the clinic. Perhaps he would take it easy today. The workday would probably be half over before the doctor was finished with him, anyway.
When they finally arrived at the clinic, Nate was guiltily relieved to see Mrs. Leggett and an older man who was presumably her uncle step outside with a stretcher—he would have had trouble taking more than a few steps on his own. Mrs. Leggett had changed into a clean dress and wore a crisp white apron over it.
“Mr. Cooper, this is my uncle, Dr. Grover Pratt,” she said as soon as she was close enough to speak to him. “Uncle Grover, this is Mr. Cooper, the man who saved Joy’s life.”
Nate shifted. All this excessive gratitude was making him uncomfortable.
“Hello, young man. Let me add my thanks to that of my niece. That was a very brave thing you did, saving our Joy.”
“I’m just glad I was in a position to help her, sir.”
Sheriff Gleason clamped him on his uninjured shoulder. “Don’t let his modesty fool you, Doc. I saw the whole thing. Mr. Cooper here is a real hero.”
Dr. Pratt nodded. “Let’s start showing our appreciation by getting him inside, where he’ll be more comfortable.”
Sheriff Gleason and the wagon driver took the ends of the stretcher and Nate maneuvered himself onto it with a minimum of help. Mrs. Leggett stayed beside him as the men transported him into the clinic. Her hand rested lightly on his good arm, as if she wanted to make certain he didn’t fall off. The feel of her hand on him was...comforting. Then she looked down and gave him a reassuring smile. Almost as if she truly cared about him.
Was this all part of her job as the doctor’s assistant?
Stupid question—of course it was.
Once the men had deposited him on the padded table in the examining room, they took their leave. Nate sat on the edge of the narrow but sturdy table with his legs dangling over the side. By refusing to lie down, he felt marginally more in control of the situation.
To his surprise, Mrs. Leggett didn’t follow the men out. Surely she didn’t plan to assist in the actual examination?
“I have strict instructions to take extra special care of you.” Dr. Pratt cast a smile his niece’s way. “So let’s get to it.”
The doctor began to lay out some of his implements. “Verity, please help Mr. Cooper remove his shirt.”
Apparently she was going to stay. And participate. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.
But she didn’t seem the least bit disconcerted by her uncle’s request. Her expression remained pleasant but detached and her movements were businesslike as she approached him. Still...
“That’s okay, I can manage,” he said as he quickly started working the buttons with his right hand.
“Don’t be silly.” From her tone, she could be speaking to a wayward child. “This is part of my job. Besides, your arm is hurt and it’s best you don’t move it more than necessary until the doctor can take a look at it.”
By this time Nate had managed to free all of the buttons, but he let her help him ease the already-ruined shirt off his arms and shoulders. As he did so, he was very conscious of the old scars she would see on his torso. What would she think?
But it wasn’t until she’d laid the garment aside and turned back to him that he noticed any sort of reaction. Unlike the recoil or emasculating pity he’d expected, however, it was a wince and flash of guilt that she quickly suppressed.
Glancing down, he saw the ugly bruise that had formed on his left side, no doubt from his contact with the wagon. Had she not noticed anything else?
Once more wearing that businesslike, doctor’s-helper demeanor, she quickly moved around to remove the arm bandage she’d applied earlier. Her touch was every bit as sure and impersonal as before.
Once done, she stepped away and allowed her uncle to take her place.
“Well, Mr. Cooper, let’s take a look, shall we?”
Nate nodded. “Please call me Nate. And your niece didn’t seem to think it was too serious.”
Dr. Pratt smiled. “Verity’s got a good eye, but why don’t you let me have a look, anyway?”
As Dr. Pratt performed his examination, he took his time and made a point of letting Nate know what he was doing and why. It was all very different from the treatment he’d grown accustomed to the past nine years.
Even though Mrs. Leggett did her best to remain unobtrusive, Nate found himself very aware of her presence. Her movements were deft and sure, and she seemed to anticipate her uncle’s requests so that very few words were spoken between them.
Verity—that was a rather old-fashioned name, but somehow it suited her. And her daughter was named Joy. Both named for virtues. The jaded part of him wondered if they found the names a burden to live up to. Not the little girl, of course, at least not yet. But the mother?
After cleaning the wound and studying it, the doctor looked up to meet Nate’s gaze. “You’re going to need stitches, but I don’t see any reason why this cut shouldn’t heal completely with no lasting damage, other than a scar, as long as you take it easy the next few days.”
That was a relief. He could deal with one more scar. It would be difficult, though, to do his work without full use of his arm.
The doctor moved on to examine Nate’s shoulder and side. Nate did his best to bear the probing stoically and not show any signs of discomfort. Mainly because he didn’t want to make Mrs. Leggett feel any guiltier than she obviously already did.
But a part of him admitted that he didn’t want to display weakness in front of her, either.
Finally, Dr. Pratt straightened. “Well, your shoulder and ribs are bruised but not broken. That knot on your head is of some concern, but so far you aren’t exhibiting any signs of a concussion. Now I’m going to take care of suturing your arm before we take a look at your ankle.”
Nate nodded. “Whatever you say.”
Dr. Pratt gave him a considering look. “I think this will go better if you lie down on the table.”
Without a word, Nate swiveled and swung his legs up on the table, then lay back. The doctor offered him a strip of leather to bite down on, but Nate shook his head. This wasn’t his first time to get stitched up, so he knew what to expect.
Mrs. Leggett, who had quietly laid out the necessary implements, stood beside her uncle as he applied the stitches, ready to assist as needed.
Nate kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling as the doctor went to work, refusing to utter so much as a whimper. But apparently he wasn’t as impassive as he would have liked, because about halfway through the procedure, Mrs. Leggett moved next to him and applied a cool cloth to his brow. Surprised by the action, he left off staring at the ceiling long enough to meet her gaze. She gave him an approving, sympathetic smile that somehow eased the pain of the procedure. A moment later she had slipped back into her less personal, bedside demeanor and returned to her uncle’s side.
When at last Dr. Pratt was done, he straightened. “You can sit up now if you like,” he told Nate.
Nate had to admit, if only to himself, that it hadn’t ended any too soon. It had taken all he had not to cry out a time or two. Only the fear that he would embarrass himself in front of Mrs. Leggett had kept him from doing so.
The doctor glanced toward his niece as he helped Nate sit up. “Verity, would you take care of wrapping his arm for me?”
“Of course.” She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a roll of gauzy-looking cloth.
As she had out in the street earlier, she used her left hand to hold his arm with a gentle firmness while she wrapped the bandage around it with her right hand. She kept her eyes focused on her work so he was free to study her at will.
Trying not to think too much about the warmth of her hand on his, he found himself fascinated by the lone wispy curl of hair that had escaped her otherwise tightly controlled hairstyle. It swayed and danced with her every movement, an incongruously playful counterpoint to her businesslike demeanor.
His fingers actually itched with the desire to reach up and touch it, to let it curl around his finger and see if it felt as impossibly soft as it looked.
Startled once again by the direction his thoughts had taken, he forced himself to look away and found Dr. Pratt watching him thoughtfully. He suddenly felt like a schoolboy caught in some mischief.
A moment later, Mrs. Leggett was done and she stepped back and gave him a smile. “There. How’s that? Not too tight I hope.”
“It’s fine, thank you.” Not that he would have complained even if it hadn’t been.
Dr. Pratt moved closer. “Now let’s have a look at that ankle.” The older man studied it a moment without touching him, then looked back up. “My recommendation is that we cut the boot off. Otherwise, you’re going to find this much more than uncomfortable. And if your foot is broken it could cause even more damage.” He spread his hands. “But the choice is yours.”
Nate frowned. He didn’t have the funds to spend on new footwear right now. And he was no stranger to pain. “Let’s give removing it whole a try first.”
“Very well. If you change your mind once I get started, though, you just have to say the word.” He turned to his niece. “Verity, please stand behind Mr. Cooper so he has something to lean back against if he needs to.”
With a nod, she did as her uncle asked, positioning herself at his back and gripping the edge of the table on either side of him.
And he was honest enough with himself to admit he liked the feel of having her all around him. But, knowing she wouldn’t feel the same, he refused to take advantage of the situation.
He’d remain upright, no matter the cost.
With that in mind, this time he accepted the offer of a leather strap to bite down on.
