Second Chance Hero. Winnie Griggs

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      Hazel paused midsentence and glanced quickly around the shop. “She probably followed Buttons to one of his hiding places. Check behind the counter.”

      “Joy!” Verity said the name louder this time, using her no-nonsense, answer-me-now voice. She knew it was probably an overreaction, but she couldn’t help herself. Her late husband’s violent death had given her a terrible lesson on how tragedy could strike in the blink of an eye. And she’d found herself wanting to hold tighter and tighter to her daughter ever since.

      When there was still no response, Verity’s focus sharpened. If Joy was just behind the counter, why wasn’t she answering? “Joy, this isn’t a game. Come out this minute.”

      Still no answer. Could she have gone upstairs? Verity had half turned in that direction when Hazel spoke up, halting her in her tracks.

      “She’s out on the sidewalk.”

      Verity spun around and headed for the door. Why hadn’t she kept a closer eye on Joy?

      A warning shout sounded just as she stepped outside, closely followed by a gasp from Hazel.

      She watched in horror as her daughter, intent on chasing Buttons, darted in front of an oncoming wagon. Verity raced forward screaming Joy’s name. The child turned, then froze as she saw the horse bearing down on her.

      Verity stumbled and realized with shattering clarity that she would never reach Joy in time.

Chapter Three

      For 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 СКАЧАТЬ