Jeb Williams was coming out of the Mercantile with a 50lb sack of flour as the thunderous herd of the Damned pounded by. Children ran to their mothers as the cowboys rode without regard for the lives of the weak. He shrugged into his hat. On his own, Jeb wasn't afraid to confront anyone but years at war had taught him that one man against many did little good. In the distance, he saw them harassing some dern fool who appeared to be buck nekkid, then they rode on. Some little missy from that boardinghouse took up caterwalling for help, so he slung the flour into the buck board and hurried to see what had happened.<br/><br/>The boots on his feet were awkward for running,but he felt a sense of urgency in her voice. No men stepped up to help, only a few women from the house.  When Jeb arrived, Miss Lila was daubing blood from the poor man's head.<br/><br/>"Let me help you get him in off the street," Jeb suggested. He watched as the woman looked up at him, way up, for Jeb was a tall man, and then saw her appraise his strength as she took in the breadth of his shoulders. As usual, she stopped at his arresting blue eyes that were full of compassion and concern.<br/><br/>"Somebody bring me a coverlet off a bed or some such," he suggested before picking him up. A girl ran for the house and returned with a pink quilt worked with delicate purple flowers. Jeb tossed in around the man and picked him up as easy as he would have little Maddie. Shouldering his way past the women and children, he entered the boardinghouse. He had suspicions about what went on in here and that wasn't his nevermind. Not all men had a sweet little peach like he had at home.<br/><br/>Laying the old sunbaked coot on a settee, Jeb left without a word, collected his rig and headed back toward his ranch.