"You're okay?" He asked unbelievingly as the woman moved in front of him, blocking his view of the room.
"I'm fine, but you're lucky you're not dead."
Renewed anger changed Tarralee's voice into one she did not recognize. The man flinched as he slowly wrapped his good arm around her shoulder as she lifted him to his feet. Their faces touched; his black beard scraped her soft skin. Tarralee jerked away as if pine needles had pricked her nerve endings, and she couldn't wait to be away from this man. Hurrying him despite his obviously dazed state, she marched him to a kitchen chair and shoved him into it.
"Let me look at your shoulder in the light." Blackbeard's eyes watched her as she pulled the jacket back and examined her makeshift bandage again. The packing had fallen away, but the wound was no longer bleeding freely. She glanced at him, surprised that such a minor wound would cause a man his size to pass out.
"It isn't too bad. I've got to check my dog--just hold this here and I'll be right back to clean this and put a real bandage over it." Tarralee pushed the used T-shirt into his hand, turning away.
"There's blood on your side, miss," the man stated as she moved toward the door.
"Yours, I'm sure," she tossed back, totally impervious to the burning along her own rib cage.
)
