Kissing Comfort (58 page)

Kellen accepted the rebuke, knowing it was deserved. The doctor hadn't slurred a syllable. Liquor didn't account for the man's unsteady gait or the slight tremble in his hands. Some sort of wasting disease did. “Suits me fine,” Kellen said. “What can you do for him?”

Dr. Hitchens gave the patient his full attention while Mr. Berg inched closer for a better look until Kellen put an arm out to ease him back. “You're going to have let me see your wound, Mr.—”

“Church. Nat Church.”

“Well, that's something,” the doctor said equably. “I've been known to enjoy your exploits. Especially liked
Nat Church and the Frisco Fancy
.”

Kellen smiled wryly as Nat Church offered a modest thank-you. The man had no shame—perhaps another trait he shared with his fictional counterpart.

The doctor had some difficulty unbuttoning his patient's coat. Aside from the tremor in his hands, his fingers quickly became slick with blood. “Can't wait to read the new one. Have it on order.”

“
Nat Church and the Chinese Box
,” Church said as the doctor opened the coat at the site of the wound. “Got a copy for you right here.”

The conductor blanched and sucked in a breath when he saw the bloody mess that was Mr. Church's midsection. He was relieved to have Kellen take a deliberate step forward and block his view.

Kellen couldn't distinguish between book, blood, and bowel. The doctor tossed the latest Church adventure to the floor, shoved slithering intestine back inside the gaping wound, and held one hand against Church's bloody flesh while expertly unwinding the ball of bandages in the other. When he had a wad the size and thickness of his palm, he used his teeth to tear it off and replaced his hand with it. “Mother of God,” he muttered, looking back at Kellen. “This man's been gutted. Who did this?”

“He says he doesn't know.”

Mr. Berg squared his shoulders and raised his chin a notch. It didn't add so much as a quarter of an inch to his height, and he still stood a full head shorter than Kellen Coltrane. He was either oblivious to this fact or undeterred by it, because there was a sharp edge of accusation in his tone when he asked, “Do
you
know?”

Kellen ignored the question. “Anything you can do, Doctor?”

“Put this away.” Hitchens held out the unused portion of bandage to Kellen. “Take out the smallest syringe and give it to me.”

Kellen followed the instructions, eventually taking the doctor's place beside Mr. Church and using his hand to keep the man's guts from spilling onto his lap. Hitchens wiped blood from his fingers and then filled the syringe from a vial of clear fluid that he extracted from the bottom of his bag.

Watching him, Kellen saw both resignation and determination on the doctor's face. It wasn't so different from what he observed in the man who wanted to be Nat Church.

“Morphine?” asked Kellen.

The doctor didn't answer. Without a word of warning or apology, he plunged the point of the syringe into his patient's thigh.

There was only waiting after that. Nat Church eventually closed his eyes. He slept. He died. And none of those who stood as witness to his end had an explanation for it.

They agreed that the bloody tin star the doctor found pinned to Nat Church's vest might account for some part of the answer. Kellen Coltrane was left to wonder what accounted for the rest of it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jo Goodman is a licensed professional counselor working with children and families in West Virginia's Northern Panhandle. Always a fan of the happily ever after, Jo turned to writing romances early in her career as a child care worker when she realized the only life script she could control was the one she wrote herself. She is inspired by the resiliency and courage of the children she meets and feels privileged to be trusted with their stories, the ones that they alone have the right to tell.

Once upon a time, Jo believed she was going to be a marine biologist. She feels lucky that seasickness made her change course. She lives with her family in landlocked Colliers, West Virginia. Please visit her website at
www.jogoodman.com
.