Free NoRegretsColeNC by Christina Cole Page A

step aside, Mr. Beardsley. I’ll handle this myself.” She
shoved him out of her way as she marched forward. “Obviously,” she threw back
over her shoulder, “you don’t care what becomes of him.”
    But she
did.
    The
realization shook her. Charlotte Kellerman was right. She did care about
Willie. Too much. He was no longer a patient at the
hospital, and what he chose to do—or not do—should be none of Hattie’s concern.
    She
stepped inside the musty structure. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust
from the bright sunlight to the dimness of the stable. She sniffed. The pungent
smells of horses and hay assaulted her nostrils.
    “Willie
Morse, are you in here? I know you are.”
    Only a
soft nickering answered.
    She
inched her way forward, glancing about at each step. When she finally saw him,
stretched out sound asleep on a tattered blanket spread across the dirt-packed
floor, her heart lurched. Her hands balled into tight fists.
    Cautiously,
Hattie nudged his ribcage with the toe of her boot. His only reaction was to
grab the blanket, draw it up around him, and turn over.
    “Get
up, Willie,” she said, nudging a little harder.
    This time,
he rolled over and opened one eye. He stared up at her but seemed to be having
trouble bringing her—or anything else, for that matter—into focus.
    Josiah
came trotting up behind her. He pushed the cap back on his head. “Well, I’ll be,
but you’re right, Miss Richards ..” Now, he gave Willie
a kick. “Get up. You can’t sleep here. Leastways, not unless you want to be
saddled up and ridden tomorrow, or maybe hitched up to
some dray. Come to think of it, maybe…”
    “What
are you muttering about?” Willie propped himself up on one elbow and opened
both eyes. His attention turned to Hattie. “What are you doing here?”
    “I’ve
come to check up on you. I thought we had an understanding. You were going to
look for work, stay away from the saloon, and get your life together. Was
everything you said a lie?”
    “Look,
I tried, all right? Nobody had any work. I’ve got no money,
no place to go . What am I supposed to do?”
    Hattie
put her hands on her hips and turned to Josiah Beardsley. “Didn’t I see a sign
on your door? One advertising a position?”
    “Yes, I
reckon you did.” He glared down at Willie. “You seem to like sleeping in my
stables. You willing to work in return for a place to
lay your head?”
    “Hell,
no, I’m not shoveling shit.” He brushed the straw from his clothing. “Sorry for
the language, Hattie.” Her face reddened.
    Josiah
folded his long arms over his lanky form. “Suit yourself.” He spat a wad of
tobacco toward the corner. “Either get to work or get off my hay.”
    “Fine. Lousy
accommodations here anyway.”
    “Never
claimed to be a first-class establishment, did I?” Josiah grabbed a shovel and
thrust it out. Willie ignored it.
    “So, I
see exactly how it is now.” Hattie made a snorting sound, most unladylike. “I
should have guessed this would happen. You’ve got no respect for anybody, least
of all for yourself.” She lifted her chin slightly, gave Willie a cool look,
and then walked away without another word.
    “Hattie,
wait!” Dragging his stiff, sore leg over the hard dirt floor, he lumbered after
her. “Give me a chance to explain.”
    “What
is there to explain? You lied , Willie. Plain and simple.”
    “That’s
not true.” He plucked more bits of straw from his hair. “I did look for work.”
    “Really? Where?”
    “A
couple of places.”
    “A
couple of places,” she repeated. “Two? That’s all?”
    “Three,
actually.” He lowered his shaggy head. “That’s all it took, Hattie, for me to see the
truth. Nobody in this town is going to hire me.” He exhaled loudly, then raised his gaze to meet hers. “Except Josiah, I
suppose. He’s not too particular about who shovels the shit around here.”
    Hattie
blushed again. His foul language should offend her. It didn’t. Somehow