Eleanor Tatum

“Come on Coffman, are you a coward and English or are all English cowards?”

Having no idea what they meant or what her plan might be, she opened the door and pointed the heavy gun. She strategized, while the gun grew heavier. “Get out! Leave!” Her first thought to penetrate her fear was the look on their faces.Had she really scared them? Would they really leave? Her second thought concerned the sudden warmth and strong wall behind her. He stood close and his arms came around her waist to adjust her aim. Dianna stared down the barrel which now pointed at the leader’s horse. The lengthy silence of the rider told her a story of stubborn disbelief and indecision.

“Damn!” The leader turned the targeted beast away. They grumbled, cursed, and gave graphically mean promises, but they left.

“Please close the door, Miss. They’ll be back.” He took the gun, returned it to the rack, and collapsed at her feet.

Usually her stubborn manner would question commands. Nor this time. Usually her attitude toward men would have her stepping over the collapsed male. Not this time.

“Mr. Coffman?” Dianna rested on her knees and she gently shook his shoulders. She prayed since she was down there anyway. “Dear God, in heaven, what do I do now?” She started a tactile broken bone survey. “Why am I doing this? He didn’t fall hard.”

“No, but if you keep that up, I’ll have a broken bone anyway.”

Dianna startled, pushed away from his groans, and stared into a pair of lake blue eyes coming closer to hers. “No!”

“If I was going to molest you, Miss, I’d have to feel a hell of a lot better. Help me up?”

She moved her worried muscles and gingerly stood. She bent over him and slid an arm under his raised left side.

“Chamber pot, if you please,” he grunted.

Together they hobbled back to the bedroom and he ungraciously used his toe to pull the pot from under the bed. “Turn your head if you must, but don’t drop me.” After a few awkward but relieving minutes, he fell back onto the bed, and into another sleep.