Amon
“Imogene huffed, “but if reading The Devil’s Bride and The Pirate’s Peril aren’t enough to pick you up, then I’m at my wits end!”
Cutty shifted himself on the bed, crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. They were in the patient room at the back of Doc Waller’s house. He’d been there ever since the Whitman twins had arrived in town a few days ago. “Woman, the day yer at yer wit’s end will be the day yer in yer grave! Even then, you’ll no doubt have some cuttin’ remark that’ll set the Grim Reaper’s sickle on fire!”
“Well, well,” Imogene said with a smile, “there’s the Cutty I know! You’ve got to fight whatever this is that ails you! And I don’t think it has anything to do with your previous injuries.”
He glared at her with his one good eye. “And what makes ya say that, Doctor?”
“Because I know you better than you think, dear sir.”
Cutty sank back into his pillows at the remark.
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