Second Chance Hero Read online

  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.
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  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 in
to 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.