Vin continued to get better. Soon he was up and dressed, taking short walks by himself back and forth across his room, trying to gain his strength back. Dingo, forever stretched out on the bed, would wag his tail whenever Vin walked to the door, then stop when he walked back to the windows.

"Pretty soon boy, we can go running again." Vin promised him. Dingo wagged his tail. "Though with your rheumatism and this bum leg, I think walking is all we'll manage for quite some time."

A few trips across his carpeted floor had Vin worn out and he laid down on the bed next to the dog. Dingo stretched happily, grumbling in his throat, and repositioned himself to lay with his back along Vin's side and his head on his arm.

Vin let himself fall into a light sleep, figuring the next person in the room would be Sofia checking on him and bringing him supper. The next thing he became aware of though was the sound of a quill pen scratching over paper. Dingo still slept heavily on his arm.

Without opening his eyes or moving, Vin could picture the scene in his room exactly. Eugene, taking a rest from work, would be sitting in the chair, wearing his good jacket over his work clothes, with his lensless glasses perched on his nose, and his cumbersome watch bulging in his jacket pocket.

Eugene liked to write stories, and somewhere he got the idea that a 'real writer' would only write while in his good clothes, wearing glasses, and using a quill pen. Eugene could have all the good metal nibs he wanted just for the asking, but he insisted that if a quill pen was good enough for James Fennimore Cooper, it was good enough for him. How he could be sure Cooper used a quill pen, Vin wasn't sure, but Eugene stuck to his guns and Uncle Eusebius had gladly provided the glasses and the pocket watch, and a carved mahogany walking stick that Eugene never used but had offered to Vin for his 'present infirmity'.

Sometimes at night, when Eugene was holed up in his room writing away, sometimes Vin would stretch out on the settee there and let Eugene read his stories to him. Usually when he did that, he woke up there the next morning, with a light blanket tossed over him and Dingo snoring on the floor near his head. He heard a lot of his own ventures in there, though Eugene didn't name him exactly.

So, without moving or opening his eyes, he asked now,

"You writin' about me?"

"Someone certainly thinks highly of himself." Eugene answered.

"What are you writin' about then?"

"A pair of spectacles."

That made Vin open his eyes and look at Eugene. Sure enough, he was sitting there in his good jacket and glasses just like Vin thought he would be.

"You're writing a story about spectacles?"

"Yes."

"Would that be with'r without the lenses?"

Eugene pulled a sour face.

"I fail to see the humor in that remark."

"It's a wonder you ain't better at poker with a face like that."

"I believe we've well established that I am not better at poker because I am saddled with freres who cheat."

Instead of admitting or denying that claim, Vin asked,

"So, what's so all-fired special about them glasses you gotta write a whole story about em?"

"Whoever puts them on can see what the person who wore them before had seen while wearing them."

"How do they do that?"

"I don't know."

"How can you write it if you don't know how it works?"

"It's not important how they work, as long as they do work."

"Well if I was reading that story, I'd be all the time wondering how those spectacles worked like that." Vin was only ribbing Eugene, but he said it seriously. "Don't know as I'd be able to concentrate on the whole rest of the story if I didn't know -."

"They're magic. There, does that satisfy you?" Eugene huffed. "A bewildered leprechaun enchants them with fairy dust and that's how they work."

Feigning complete innocence, Vin asked, "How's the fairy dust work?"

Eugene looked about ready to suffer apoplexy.

"I will strangle you, you know. People will think that you've succumbed to your injury, or that Dingo smothered you in your sleep. I'm a writer after all, I can invent a plausible story."

Vin had to laugh, closing his eyes again and pulling his arm out from under Dingo.

"You're just too easy Eugene, you know that? Too easy."

"I would answer that insufferable remark, but I'm no longer speaking to you."

Then they were quiet for awhile, Vin and Dingo on the bed, and the only sounds in the room were the sounds of Eugene dipping his pen into his inkwell, and scratching his story out onto his paper.

"Eugene?"

"Hmmm?"

"What's the story really about?"

"It seems there are two brothers, one travels and one does not. The traveling brother wears the glasses wherever he goes, so that when he returns, he can give them to his brother so that he can share in his adventures."

"That sounds nice. After supper, will you come back up and read it to me?"

"Of course."

As Vin blinked his eyes wearily, deciding if he should go back to sleep or not, Tom came into his room.

"Supper's about ready." He said to Eugene, and asked of Vin, "How're you doing, boy?"

"Tired. But only tired. Except Eugene here won't tell me how magic fairy dust works."

"Well that's because if you know how it works," Tom explained, "it don't work anymore."

"Thank you!" Eugene said. He packed up his supplies, got to his feet, and headed for the door. "Why weren't you here a half hour ago?"

"He's too easy." Vin said, when Eugene was safely out of earshot. He pulled himself up to sitting, with a little help from Tom, and leaned back against his headboard.

"I heard him tell you about that story." Tom said. He took the chair Eugene had vacated. "Sounds like a couple of brothers I know."

"Sometimes the things he writes about do sound a might familiar." Vin allowed. "He won't admit it though."

"Someday, when you're well enough, we need to talk about this habit of wandering you got. We almost lost you."

"Well, I don't know as you can say it was the wandering exactly that caused that." Vin offered, hesitantly. Backtalk was not allowed in this house, and he wasn't sure how close he might be coming. "It was being on the posse and getting in the way of the ricochet that did it. And you wouldn't have wanted me to not join the posse, would you?"

"I think it was your pure muleheadedness that had you not asking for help when you needed it." Tom said. "But no – I'm proud of you for joining that posse."

Vin grinned his appreciation of that remark. "That's still not the wandering though…" he said.

"I can see why Eugene left here in such a temper." Tom said. "You argue just like your Ma." He stood up and patted Vin's shoulder. "Supper'll be here in a minute. And we are gonna have that talk."

"Yessir."