Talon the Black (Dragonwall Series # 1)

Chapter 4 - The Chamber Pot

Battle Ground, Indiana

Claire didn't make promises often. She didn't like the obligation that came along with them. In this instance, she knew she had to. How did she know? She couldn't have said. It wasn't the gold, though that was a perk. Instead, some unexplainable feeling drove her to it, just as it made her chase the dragon into her cornfield and rescue it.

When she gave him her word, Cyrus visibly relaxed. In fact, he flashed her a charming smile. It disarmed her more than she cared to admit. Men weren't supposed to make her jittery, not when she was dealing with the fallout created by Jake.

"Your reassurance, my lady, means a great deal. Now"—his brown eyes narrowed—"it is my turn to ask questions."

She sputtered, caught off guard. "What do you want to know?" Giving up on her oatmeal, she pushed the bowl away.

"A few things. First, out of curiosity, do you live here alone? It does not seem so."

"Oh, no, I don't." She relaxed her shoulders. "This is my parents' house, actually. They're away on vacation." Her parents went to Florida every year with their friends. "And you won't find me complaining. This is the first alone time I've had since moving back here." She failed to hide the bitterness in her voice. It wasn't easy living with her parents, especially after four years of college and freedom.

"I see," said Cyrus. "Perhaps you are luckier than you realize. My mother and father are no longer with me."

"Oh. I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"Your apology is unnecessary. We all lose the ones we love sooner or later." The depths of his eyes reflected sadness, but when he next spoke, his voice was back to its old self. "Earlier when I dressed, I looked at my wound." He shifted in his chair, sitting up straighter. "I find myself impressed with your work."

She choked and coughed, patting her chest. "Impressed? I did a sloppy job."

"Be that as it may, where I come from, females are not often healers."

"You mean doctors?"

He shook his head. "I mean healers, skilled in the art of setting a broken bone, or stitching a man together."

"Oh." She shrugged. "Well, here, women are plenty capable of doing as good a job as any man."

He held up his hands. "That is not what I meant. I simply find it impressive. Lucky for me, you possessed the knowledge necessary to keep me from dying." Cyrus was right, any other cornfield and he probably would have.

"Lucky for you, my dad is a surgeon, or at least, he was."

"A surgeon?" The word rolled off his tongue with difficulty.

"A healer," she clarified. "Before my grandpa died and left him the farm, Dad was a surgeon. Now whenever anything happens, he's the first person everyone calls." It was true, their phone was known to ring at all hours.

What she didn't say was how her grandpa's death was the best thing that had happened to their family. She'd been nine at the time, and she loved her gramps, but she never really knew her dad until he was forced to leave his position at Arnett Hospital and take over the family farm.

Cyrus smiled. It didn't reach his eyes, but it was kind. "I can tell by the way you speak, your father must be a great man."

She nodded. "Yes. Yes, he is."

"And it explains a great deal about your abilities." His warm gaze was filled with admiration, though she didn't feel deserving of such praise.

"I did what I had to do given the circumstances. You're making it sound like I'm a big deal. I'm not."