Finishing his cider, John stood and decided not to point out that Arthur was the one giving orders from the morning on. It wasn't going to sway Arthur, and there was no reason to try.
He had splints on his hand, wrapped in a clean, dry bandage. He didn't know what else Abigail had wanted to do for it, but he figured if the bandage was on, it was just about as done as needed. He turned his arm around to look it over, glad that he'd still have use of his hand - or would eventually. A scar wasn't a big deal, but he was going to need help in the mornings to load the wagon and get Jack off to his school. He'd ask Sadie if she'd want to come along and do that, if Abigail didn't ask first.
Dutch was for the most part patched up, and he was puffing on a cigar, scowling and ruminating on the events of the night, and even further on the fact that there was not just an O'Driscoll, but The O'Driscoll stinking up his cabin. "Good, you boys're here. Let's get this over with. I believe our guest has quickly worn out his welcome. Abigail see to your wrist, John?"
"Yeah, she says I ain't allowed to do much work 'til it heals." It was somehow more begrudging the second time he said it than the first. He was going to be bored to tears again.
"And Sadie's doin' well? She stayin' here a while?" Dutch asked as he slowly got to his feet, favoring his good leg. That lasted about three seconds before Hosea was sassing him back down into his seat. "You aren't goin' anywhere, Dutch. I know you want to see the end of this, but 'til you get some rest, some real rest, you ain't going anywhere. Let the boys handle this as needs handlin'."
Dutch looked petulant for just about five seconds, about to yell that this needed doin' right away, but he simmered down and grumbled, "Fine. Boys. Bring him to the orchard, tie 'im up, get what you need outta him. We'll take care of him at dawn."
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He had splints on his hand, wrapped in a clean, dry bandage. He didn't know what else Abigail had wanted to do for it, but he figured if the bandage was on, it was just about as done as needed. He turned his arm around to look it over, glad that he'd still have use of his hand - or would eventually. A scar wasn't a big deal, but he was going to need help in the mornings to load the wagon and get Jack off to his school. He'd ask Sadie if she'd want to come along and do that, if Abigail didn't ask first.
Dutch was for the most part patched up, and he was puffing on a cigar, scowling and ruminating on the events of the night, and even further on the fact that there was not just an O'Driscoll, but The O'Driscoll stinking up his cabin. "Good, you boys're here. Let's get this over with. I believe our guest has quickly worn out his welcome. Abigail see to your wrist, John?"
"Yeah, she says I ain't allowed to do much work 'til it heals." It was somehow more begrudging the second time he said it than the first. He was going to be bored to tears again.
"And Sadie's doin' well? She stayin' here a while?" Dutch asked as he slowly got to his feet, favoring his good leg. That lasted about three seconds before Hosea was sassing him back down into his seat. "You aren't goin' anywhere, Dutch. I know you want to see the end of this, but 'til you get some rest, some real rest, you ain't going anywhere. Let the boys handle this as needs handlin'."
Dutch looked petulant for just about five seconds, about to yell that this needed doin' right away, but he simmered down and grumbled, "Fine. Boys. Bring him to the orchard, tie 'im up, get what you need outta him. We'll take care of him at dawn."