Amon by Kit Morgan Page B

coot!”
    He sat up at that. “Who are ya calling an old coot, you … you …” He snorted. “Being at least half a gentleman, I cain’t say it!”
    “Half a gentleman? Now there’s one I haven’t heard!”
    “Well, now ya have!” He shot back with a curt nod. “Be glad at least half of me is!”
    Imogene leaned toward him and sighed. “And what’s the other half consist of?”
    Cutty’s face softened. “That’s somethin’ I don't wanna talk about if’n ya don’t mind. I hope that side of me’s long gone.” He looked away. “I was no good, Imogene, no good at all.”
    She shrugged. “Everyone has a dark side, don’t they? I think that’s one of the reasons I went to India so often.”
    “Is that the side that bagged a tiger?” he asked with a smile.
    “Indeed not. But it certainly brought me a lot of attention!”
    “I’m sure it did. I would’ve given anything to be there and see you shoot the beast.”
    “Ah, but alas, ‘twas not to be at the time …,” she said with a sigh.
    “At the time? What ya mean? I didn’t even know ya then!”
    She shook herself. “Oh yes, you’re quite right. How could you have come?”
    “Land sakes, woman, are ya losin’ your mental faculties?”
    “Of course not – I’m tired, that’s all. Tired of sitting here arguing with you! Now are you going to get out of that bed or not?” She stood and crossed her arms.
    “I’ll get out of this here bed when I’m good and ready!”
    “Fine, then I shall see you when you do!”
    “What?!” Cutty said with enough exuberance to lift himself halfway. “What do ya mean?”
    “I mean that I’m not going to see you until you get your sorry hide out of that bed! There’s nothing wrong with you!”
    “Who says there ain’t?” he screeched, hard enough to come off the bed again.
    “I says there ain’t ,” she replied, exaggerating the slang.
    He righted himself and pulled the quilt against him. “I’m a sick man, I tell ya!” he yelled as he shook his fist.
    “What’s goin’ on in here?” Grandma Waller cried as she charged into the room. “What’s all the yellin’ for?”
    “We’re not yellin’!” Cutty shouted. “We are havin’ a civilized discussion!”
    “I told you there was nothing wrong with him,” Imogene told Grandma with a triumphant smirk.
    Grandma studied Cutty with a keen eye. “Is this true? Are you back to your old crotchety self?”
    Cutty’s eyes darted between them. “I … well, I …”
    “If you’re taking up space, so help me …” Grandma threatened. “We might need that bed for someone who’s really sick!”
    He sighed in defeat. “I’m going, then,” he groused. “Just give me a few minutes.”
    “Ha!” Imogene said and raised her arms in victory. “I knew it!”
    “You knew what?” he growled as he scratched at the chest of his long underwear.
    She stepped forward. “That something else ails you, old man. And I intend to find out what!”
    Cutty’s eyes widened. “Mind yer own business, woman!”
    She spun to Grandma. “You see? That confirms it!”
    “Confirms what?” Cutty asked, his voice cracking.
    “That I’m right!” Imogene said waving a hand in the air for emphasis. She turned and left the patient room.
    Grandma stared after her a moment, then slowly looked back at Cutty. “You’d best hightail it out of here, then. I’ll go see what I can rustle up in the kitchen for ya to take. Can’t send a man out without something to eat.”
    She left as well, leaving him alone for the first time that day. If Doc Waller hadn’t been poking and prodding him, Imogene was harping at him. Or reading to him. Cutty smiled at the thought before he threw back the quilt and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’d spent the last three days trying to recover from shock – and just plain hide. Now that he’d gotten his senses back, to a certain degree at least, it was time to set things