A/N: Took me a while - but I'm finally here! A thousand apologies. I need to sort myself out a bit :P

Knocked into a cocked hat - fouled up, rendered useless.
Dragged out - fatigued, worn out.
Big bugs - important person, official, boss. (In this case, the Bankers)

Chapter 2 – John The Cowboy

He was very much a handsome man, Rosaline had determined. Even laying there in that bed unconscious – as he had been for a good few hours now – the strength of one thousand men shone brightly from his face.

Rosaline was no nurse but even she could tell the chest wound had been serious enough to kill, but even without antibiotics or whatever fancy medicine they had now he'd managed to get stronger and more levelled in his breathing. He was handsome, strong-willed. She was starting to fall in love with him even though he hadn't uttered her a single word.

Or seen her in return.

She sat next to him now, making sure the bleeding was kept from pouring as he rested. With every breath he took Rosaline could tell he was in discomfort, the little squeaks of slight pain that managed to filter their way through.

Jacquetta hadn't been all too keen on offering him asylum but then again, she'd never been keen on taking pity on men since Rosaline's dadda had died. She did have a reason to turn away his presence, namely, the fact Rosaline had refused to go out for money over this man's comfort.

It was high noon before the man had finally stirred from unconsciousness, no less than six hours since he'd passed out. Rosaline quickly gathered up her skirts and bolted over to his bedside, taking his hand in order to soothe him reassuringly to consciousness. She was aware Jacquetta was watching them both from behind her.

"Howdy sir," she whispered gently as he groaned slightly, two beautiful brown eyes flickering open for the first time since she met him, staring groggily up at the ceiling. He took a sharp intake of air in as the pain in his chest hit him, a hand instantly flying up to his wound as he bolted upright into position, wracked by a heavy and painful sounding cough.

Rosaline gripped his hand tighter in the moment.

"Breathe in, breathe out. C'mon. That's it. Calm down sir."

His free arm was across his mouth now, shielding his chesty cough. Rosaline's eyes widened as she saw splats of red on his arm – he was coughing up blood.

"Breathe in, and out. In, out."

He finally stopped coughing, lowering himself back down onto the pillows and instead staring straight up at her, obviously confused.

"Who…who are you ma'am?"

She smiled back down at him, gently.

"My name's Rosaline Tyler sir, and this here's my momma, Jacquetta." She gestured vaguely behind her.

The man blinked slightly, trying to gain focus as he grunted slightly, pulling himself up more – obviously trying to get out of the bed. Rosaline's hand quickly flew out to support him with her eyes mounting concern.

"Sir, you've been knocked into a cocked hat. Don't do anythin' silly, now."

"No, no ma'am, you don't understand," he said, clutching at his wound and trying to fight against her grip. "You're in danger!"

"Sir, please relax! Ain't nobody gonna hurt you here."

"Miss Tyler ma'am, I don't want you gettin' hurt on account of me."

"Don't nobody know your here sir," Rosaline moved her hand from pressing against his shoulders to his right hand, resting it on top. "Your horse is safe and I wasn't followed…and please, call me Rosaline."

John paused for a moment, brushing a hand back through his wild brown hair anxiously, making it all stand on end. He looked up at her.

"I'm John," he offered, finally submitting and leaning back against the headboard, far too tired to put up a fight. "John Smith."

"Well you get some shut eye John, you looked pretty dragged out."

He gave her a warm smile through his pain; letting himself slide back down under the sheets as his wound threw him free pain in the bucket loads.

"Thank you, Rosaline," he whispered, slipping away quietly.

He didn't even snore, Rosaline noted as she stood up from beside the bed, turning to see her mother for the first time since John had awoken. She was staring hard at her only daughter.

"He can't stay Rosaline. We don't got no money and the big bugs'll be here in two days. We can't look after no injured cowboy."

"I said momma, I'll find a way of gettin' us the money. John ain't got no part in this, this is nothin' to do with him. I know you have no kind heart for men, but John needs our help."

There was a brief pause as Jacquetta took in what her daughter said, shrugging slightly as she turned and walked away, back towards the stove.

"He's your responsibility Rosaline," she warned. "He ain't got nothin' to do with me."

"John. John."

Rosaline shook the sleeping man as gently as she could, watching his eyes beneath their lids as he came back to the land of reality, helped by the scent of the bowl of stew she held in her right hand.

"That looks just grand Rosaline," he murmured as he pulled himself up to sitting position, trying in vain to ignore the pain shooting through his chest.

"S'all for you John." She held out the bowl to him, resting it in his lap for him to eat.

"Thank you Rosaline, you're mighty kind," he said as he reached for the spoon, digging it in to the luscious looking food and slipping it into his mouth – politely, in the presence of Rosaline. She obviously noticed this and smiled back a beautiful smile.

"S'ok, you don't hafta be polite, John."

He thanked her with his eyes, and within practically seconds the entirety of the bowl had disappeared, much to the annoyance of Jacquetta still hovering in the room. John instantly looked up at Jacquetta, expression apologetic.

"I'm sorry to be a bother, ma'am," he said. Rosaline instantly tutted.

"You shouldn't be apologisin' to her John. You ain't got nothin' to be sorry 'bout."

"I'm in your way, Rosaline," he insisted, making to get up, get dressed, get Arthur and skedaddle pronto.

"John!" the girl sounded alarmed, resting a warm hand on his shoulder and pushing him back down under the covers. "You ain't in no one's way so you just get some rest now. You're gonna feel better in the mornin'."

"You're sure ma'am?"

"Sure John. Relax."

For once, John Smith obeyed orders - and allowed himself to dream once more.