Ma was out working in her garden so all she did was wave a greeting to me as I ran by. I dashed into their bedroom and pulled out the old Navy Colt that pa had been teaching me to use. That came with a holster to be worn at the thigh, and I strapped it on. I figured that I was going to keep wearing it until Mr. Hawthorn had a chance to cool down. He was a big man, 6' tall and 200 pounds, so I did not stand a chance against him in an unarmed fight. However, Pa had done a great job of teaching me how to use the Colt, so I was pretty fast on the draw and damned accurate with it. The Colt was the old fashioned cap and ball style, so I had a couple of extra fully loaded cylinders to carry in my pockets in case I needed a quick reload.When I walked back outside, Ma saw me and that I was wearing the Colt. She said, "Hiram, you know your pa told you not to wear that gun unless he was with you. Now, you go back inside and put it where it belongs!" I can't, Ma. It's time for me to go to work. Knowing it was probably Lisa, I yelled, at least as much as the pounding in my head would allow, “It’s open!”“Where are you?” she called out.“Bathroom,” I groaned. “Give me a mi...” And then whatever might have been left of anything I had eaten earlier in the day decided to make a return appearance.She gasped at the sound of the vomiting and hurried into the bathroom. “Oh, my God, are you okay?”“Migraine.” My voice slurred as I uttered the word.“Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need anything?”I made a waving motion toward the row of prescription bottles on the vanity. “Imitrex. Then bed. I’ll be okay once I sleep.”Lisa rifled through the bottles until she identified the Imitrex. She took one out, put some water in a small glass, and handed both to me. As I held my breath to stifle my gag reflex, I swallowed them and stumbled toward my bedroom.I eased my body down, fully clothed, to the bed. Somewhat to my surprise, Lisa undid the fastener on my leg and pulled it off, then.
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