NoRegretsColeNC (3 page)

The
future could never be foretold with accuracy, and even the best-trained
physicians could do little more than guess at medical outcomes. As both Dr.
Kellerman and his wife had said many times, survival lay not with the
doctors
who treated, but with the patients and with God.

“What’s
the worst that could happen?” Willie asked. “Be honest with me.”

“All
right.”
Hattie drew near the bed. “The worst that could happen is that you’ll lose your
leg.” She saw him wince, but went on. “You’ve got a fever, so it’s likely an
infection has set in. Dr. Kellerman will do everything possible to prevent it
from spreading, but there’s no way to tell if his procedures will be effective
or not.”

Willie
nodded. “Thank you,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm. “I suspected as
much. I didn’t think you’d have the courage to tell me.”

“To be
honest, neither did
I
.” Sinking down into the chair at
Willie’s bedside, Hattie let the tension drain from her body. “All the same, I
think lying is a horrible thing. I’ve never been very good at it.”

“No, I
wouldn’t expect you to be.”

“Why do
you say that? You don’t even know me.”

“Yes, I
do.” Willie shifted enough to look directly at her. “I know you’re kind. I know
you’re gentle. You have a good heart.”

The
heat coursing through Hattie’s body rose to her cheeks. “You don’t need to
flatter me. I’m only doing my job, Mr. Morse.”

“Of
course.”
He
leaned his head back on the pillow. “Yes, of course, you’re only doing your
job.”

“Which
reminds me,” Hattie said, jumping from the chair and rushing to stand at the
bed again. “I was supposed to tell you this yesterday evening so you wouldn’t
be concerned, but then, well, when I realized you’d broken out in a fever, I
completely
forgot,
and…”

Willie
stirred.

“…oh,
dear, I’m rattling on something awful, and I’m disturbing you.” The nervousness
returned full-force. Hattie bustled about putting the room in order. “What I’m
supposed to let you know is that we’re sending word to your mother today to
notify her of your accident. I know we should have done it yesterday, but—”

“No,
don’t tell my mother.”

The
sharpness—and sudden strength—in Willie’s voice caused Hattie to spin around.

“We
must. She needs to know where you are. She needs to know what’s happened to
you.”

“I
don’t want to worry her.”

“I’m
sure she’s worried enough already, don’t you think?”

“I
doubt she’s worried at all. I haven’t seen my mother in months, Miss Richards.
She threw me out on my ear, if you must know.”

Hattie
hid a gasp. Although his remark left her wondering, she refused to pry. Her
role was to provide care, not advice and counsel.

“All
the same, she’s still your mother. She has a right to know.”

“No, I
don’t want anyone telling her—” His words failed as he choked and coughed.

Hattie
rushed to get a glass of water. “Here, drink this. Slowly,” she instructed. His
agitation upset her greatly, but she couldn’t skirt around the facts. “Please,
listen to me, Mr. Morse.” She placed a hand at his cheek. “Dr. Kellerman has
already written the letter, informing her of the accident, and explaining your
condition to her. I have it here.” She patted the pocket of her uniform. “I’m
supposed to post it as soon as possible this morning so it doesn’t miss the
mail service.”

“I’m
asking you not to post that letter. Please.” He looked up into Hattie’s eyes
with an expression she couldn’t decipher.

She
waited. Willie said nothing more, offered no further explanations. But she saw
a look of hope shining in his eyes. Hattie could do so little for him. She had
no way to ease his pain and suffering, but perhaps she could honor this simple
request. And, perhaps by doing so, she could set Willie on the road to
recovery.
So much depended upon him, after all.

“All
right.”
Hattie nodded. “I won’t tell your mother, but in return, you’ll do exactly as
Dr. Kellerman says. You’ll follow all of his instructions, be an exemplary
patient, and you’ll do everything you can to get well.”

Willie
tilted his head and looked at her. “You’re bribing me?”

She
hadn’t thought of it in those terms. “Yes, I suppose I am. Or perhaps we should
think of it as negotiation.” A smile rose quickly to her lips. “Of course, if
you don’t want to follow the doctor’s orders, then I’ll have no choice but to
carry out his instructions and inform your mother of your whereabouts.” She
bent forward. “I’m putting my career at risk if I do otherwise, you realize.”

“You’d
be willing to take that risk for me?
All right.
It’s a
deal.” He spoke quickly and stretched out a hand.

Hattie
grasped hold of it and bit her lip. Nurses weren’t supposed to withhold
information, and they probably weren’t supposed to make deals with or bribe
their patients. If Dr. Kellerman found out, he’d probably boot her right out
onto the street. She wouldn’t be allowed to train with him any longer. She
could also bid farewell to any hope of gaining admission to a real nursing
school.

Perhaps
it didn’t matter now. She already knew she’d never make a very good nurse. But
she did mean to see Willie Morse back on his feet again. He might never dance a
jig, but he’d be able to walk, and if it took a slightly unethical bargain to
make it happen, so be it.

* * *
*

Later
that week, as Hattie passed by Dr. Kellerman’s library one evening, she waved
to him through the open doorway. Following his usual routine, he’d retreated to
the reading room soon after dinner to enjoy a fine pipe and peruse a good book.

When he
called out to her, gesturing for her to join him, she quickly complied. The
library had become her favorite place. She came there often to study. Despite
its dark-paneled walls and heavy furnishings, the room never failed to brighten
her mood. Through the thick, leather-bound volumes on its tall shelves, it
imparted knowledge, brought hope to the suffering, and always left her with an
optimistic outlook. Learning was the one thing at which she excelled.

She
stepped into the room, letting the deep purple shadows of evening wrap around
her, not with a sense of gloom or foreboding but with a feeling of comfort and
accomplishment at day’s end.

Only
Hattie’s day was not yet done.

“Are
you planning to sit up with Mr. Morse tonight?” the doctor asked.

“Yes,
sir, I am.”

He
closed the book in his hand and set it aside. “I’m not sure it’s necessary now.
He’s making good progress. I’m pleased with how quickly he’s healing.”

Hattie
smiled, hoping that perhaps her little agreement with the injured young man
might be a contributing factor in his recovery.

“Are
you saying that the danger is past, sir?” She held her breath, eager for good
news.

The
doctor, however, shook his head. “It’s a bit too soon to say for certain, but,”
he added, “I think we can be cautiously optimistic.” Hattie’s concern must have
been obvious. He spoke again, his voice losing a bit of its strait-laced
professional tone, becoming warmer and friendlier. “Don’t fret. I think he’ll
be just fine.”

“I’m
glad to hear it, sir.”

He
tapped the bowl of his pipe against a small pewter tray, a receptacle for
ashes. “I am surprised, though, about one thing.” He leaned slightly forward.
Deep furrows lined his broad forehead.

“Yes?”
Her curiosity piqued, Hattie waited.

“No
one’s come to see him.”

“From
what I understand, sir, he hasn’t made many friends here.” She thought again of
the hateful taunts and jeers that had reached her ears when the accident first
happened.
No!
her
heart shouted back, he was
not
better
off dead as some of those self-righteous old men claimed. “Oh, Benjamin Brooks
did come by earlier today, but Willie was sleeping.” Hattie brightened. “Perhaps
he’ll drop by again tomorrow,” she said in an artificially cheerful voice.

The
physician puffed at his pipe. “Doesn’t it strike you odd, Miss
Richards, that
his mother hasn’t been here?”

“She
lives in Denver,” Hattie reminded him.

“Which
is
only a few hours away. There’s a regular stage service
between here and there, as well as daily mail delivery. I’d expected her to
come as soon as she got the news.”

Hattie
froze.

“Well,”
Dr. Kellerman continued, “I suppose it’s none of my business anyway. She’ll
probably be arriving shortly, don’t you think?” Seated in his chair, he peered
up at Hattie who stood nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the
other.

“Perhaps
the letter got lost, sir,” she suggested in a quiet voice.

“Lost?”
The man nodded. “Why, yes, you’re probably right. Letters do get lost all the
time, don’t they? That would certainly explain why Mrs. Morse hasn’t come to
see her son.”

Relieved
that the doctor had so quickly accepted the idea, she smiled and bobbed a
curtsy his way.

“If
there’s nothing else, Dr. Kellerman, I’ll be on my way now.” She motioned
toward the door.

“No,
nothing else on my mind.
As for our patient, I hardly think it’s necessary for you to sit with him all
night now. If you’ll check in on him from time to time, that should be
sufficient.”

“All
right, sir.”

“It
would do you good, I think, to get a bit of rest, Miss Richards.”

“Yes,
I’ll do that.”

“And
tomorrow,” he said, his gaze never wavering, “post the letter to his mother.
She deserves to know.”

Hattie
pressed her lips together and made a hasty retreat. How had the doctor figured
her out so easily? Obviously she had no skill at deception.

As she
reached the doorway, she stopped, her heart thudding with dread. What must he
think of her? Overcome with guilt, she spun around and burst into the library
again. Dr. Kellerman looked up from his book, one eyebrow rising in surprise.
Hattie clasped her hands together. “Dr. Kellerman, let me explain, please.”

“What’s
there to explain, Miss Richards?” He directed her to a chair, but she shook her
head and remained standing.

She
reached into the pocket of her skirt and slowly withdrew the letter. With
trembling hands, she gave it to the doctor. “He asked me not to send it, sir. I
should have spoken to you about it, but it was quite early that morning. I
didn’t think it right to disturb you then. I meant to discuss it with you later
in the day, but…”

“Somehow,
you forgot? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Hattie
fought back tears as she looked up. “Yes, but I can’t get the words to come
out. I’m terrible at telling lies, Dr. Kellerman. Please, don’t think I’m in
the habit of being untruthful. I was raised to always tell the truth. Honesty,
you know—”

“—is
the best policy,” he said along with her. “Indeed, it is. You should have come
to me.”

“Yes,
sir, I realize that now. But he begged me not to do it.”

“And
you willingly agreed?”

“I did,
sir.”

Dr.
Kellerman turned the letter over in his big hands, and then gave it back to the
distressed young woman standing before him. “Watch your step, Miss Richards.
I’m concerned that this letter was never posted, but I’m even more concerned by
how easily Willie persuaded you to go against your better judgment.”

“It
won’t happen again.”

“You’re
young, you’re inexperienced, and you insist on seeing the good in people. That
latter quality might be counted as a virtue, but combined with the former two,
I’m afraid it might be very dangerous.” He tapped the letter in her hand. “Do
the right thing, Miss Richards.”

“Yes,
of course. I’ll post it first thing in the morning.”

Chapter Three

He’d
been there over a week, Willie reckoned. It was hard to keep track of the days,
especially since he did little more than sleep, but the rest was doing his body
good. He was growing stronger now, staying awake more often. Hattie Mae was
giving him fewer doses of laudanum, too.

As he
stirred from dream to consciousness, Willie perceived a presence in the room.
He kept his eyes closed. Since being laid up and barely able to move, his
various senses had grown amazingly keen. Not only could he detect a presence,
he could tell at once that it was not Hattie. She had
a
lightness
about her, an ethereal quality that made him think of gossamer
wings and morning dew.

By
contrast, this was a dark, heavy presence.

Willie
let out a breath and opened his eyes.

“A
message came for you this morning.” Abner Kellerman stood framed by the
doorway.

“I
don’t know anybody who’d be sending me any messages.”

“It’s
from your mother.” The doctor crossed the room and held out an envelope.

“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
as 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.”