The Hesitant Hero Read Free Page B

get a little sense as he got older, but I never do!
    ****
    Tyler stood beside the bars of the jail as his fellow prisoner, a tall, lanky man named Simms, talked constantly. He paid little attention, but Simms was apparently used to that. “What’d he give you, Winslow?” Simms asked. “The judge, I mean.”
    “A fine and a year’s suspended sentence. If I so much as spit on the sidewalk in the next twelve months, that’s it.”
    Simms laughed. “Don’t spit, then, would be my advice. That ain’t bad, you know.”
    “I know. It could have been a lot worse.”
    His attention was caught by the guard who was walking toward his cell. “Come along, Winslow, you’re sprung.”
    “Take it easy and don’t spit,” Simms said with a laugh.
    As the steel door closed behind Tyler, he vowed, I’m not coming back to this place. He hated to be closed in, and as he accompanied the guard down the line of cells, that resolution was the strongest thing on his mind. When he stepped outside, he almost stopped, for he saw Chance standing there—and beside him was Caroline Autry.
    Caroline came toward him and hugged him. “Tyler, how awful for you!”
    Tyler took her hug, then turned to his brother. “Sorry you got involved in all this, Chance.”
    “I didn’t do much. Miss Autry here paid your fine.”
    Something in Chance’s face gave his feelings away, and Tyler knew exactly what it was. Chance was a good man but somewhat puritanical—at least for Tyler’s tastes. He was embarrassed that he’d had to be bailed out of his trouble by a woman and said, “I guess you’ll have to tell the folks about this.”
    “No I won’t. You tell them if you want to.” Suddenly Chance said, “I’ve got to leave.”
    “Your ship leaves when?”
    “Tomorrow. This is good-bye.” He turned to Caroline. “Thank you very much for your help, Miss Autry.”
    “Well, the whole thing was really my fault, Mr. Winslow.”
    Chance shook his head almost imperceptibly and then put out his hand. “Good-bye, Tyler. I’ll be in touch.”
    “Good-bye. Tell the folks I’ll . . .” Tyler could not complete the sentence, but added weakly, “Tell them I’ll write soon.”
    “I’ll tell them that.” Chance Winslow turned and walked away, his back straight.
    “He’s not very pleasant, is he?” Caroline remarked.
    “He can be, but he’s right to be sore at me.”
    “Wasn’t your fault,” Caroline said. “Come on. I’ve got my car here. I’ll take you home.”
    She took his arm possessively and led him out to the car. “How’s your head feel?” she asked as she pulled out into traffic.
    “Not bad. Could have been worse.”
    “When do the stitches come out?”
    “Thursday.”
    Tyler sat quietly until she pulled up in front of his apartment. “I’m sorry you had to pay the fine,” he said.
    “Why, that was nothing.” Caroline leaned over and pulled at him until he turned toward her. “Don’t let this get you down. It’ll all be forgotten. It could have happened to anyone.” She pulled his head toward her and kissed him. “Call me tomorrow.”
    Tyler nodded. “I will.” He got out of the car, waved goodbye, and watched her pull away. He turned heavily and made his way into the building. It was a small building with only four units—one of them occupied by the landlady, who kept close tabs on all her tenants.
    On the way up the stairs he met his landlady and her eyes flew open. “What happened to you? What’s wrong with your head?”
    “Just a little accident, Mrs. Brown. Nothing to worry about.”
    Unlocking his door, Tyler stepped inside and closed the door. His eyes fell on the canvas that he had been working on before he had gone out with Caroline. He had thought it was good at the time, but now nothing he did seemed to please him. He stood in front of the canvas and studied the images of children playing in front of a tenement. He turned away in disgust, muttering, “Whatever makes me think I can make it as a