This is not my 'verse, I just like to visit. No harm intended, no money taken.

*****

Isabel returned about midnight, carrying her stool and a lantern. The evening had grown quite cool; there would be frost by morning. She walked up the ramp and stood looking at Mal. He might have been dead, he sat so still and slumped in the folding chair. She reached down and touched his hand; it was cool to the touch and as she watched she saw a shiver shake him. Forty hours without sleeping or eating had finally caught him up; that and the rest of Isabel’s pint of whiskey.

“Well, you’re a mess, Captain. But I’d really rather that you did not die here. My preference is that you decide to live.” Isabel set the stool down and walked briskly down the ramp and into the horse barn. She returned in a few minutes with her arms full of horse blankets.

“I’d put you to bed, but you’re too heavy for me. So you can just lie right here. I don’t suppose it’s the first time nor will it be the last that you didn’t make it to bed.” Isabel talked companionably to Mal as she spread two blankets on the ramp next to the folding chair. “Sorry, but I’m afraid this is going to be a bump; with the best will in the world I don’t think I can make this an easy transition.” Isabel straddled Mal’s legs and, bending over, grasped Mal’s upper body under his arms. She rocked back on her right heel just enough to be able to kick the chair out from under Mal and then sat him down with a thump on the ramp. She laid him down on his back and stood to consider.

“This is going to be the easiest position in which to remove those boots, Captain.” Isabel turned her back to Mal and stood straddling his knees. She bent over and grasped his booted left foot, both her hands under the heel. It took several pulls before she could get the boot to begin to come off, and several more before the tall top slid all the way off.

“Those romance writers who imply that removing a man’s boots is something delicate and erotic have obviously never done the deed. Let’s