watches his abusive master. Stepping as if she were in a field of bear traps she approached the bar. She saw Ben staring at her and blushed. "What can I do for you?" she wimpered.

"Whiskey. Bring a bottle and two glasses. Three if you'll join us." Ben knew this was not likely but where he is from you always invite a lady, and she always smiles and declines. It was one way to tell if you were dealing with a gentleman and a lady. (As opposed to rouges and wenches) But she just looked puzzeled. She hesitated for a second then turned and grabbed a dusty black bottle from the shelf in one hand and two dirty glass tumblers from the counter. Ben could see there was a lot of turmoil going on in her mind about this and tried to put her at ease by asking her name. He smiled and in a sweetness of tone that put the lie to his overwhelming size and rugged appearance. "My name is Ben, what's yours?" he said with a wink.

"Martha," she said nervously.

From out of nowhere the Innkeeper stormed up behind her and cupped her up one side of her head nearly taking her off her feet. "I told you NOT to talk to the customers! This is not a place for you to get aquainted with people!" His face was blazing with rage and his eyes here filled with blood and violence as he wound up to deliver a fist to the back of her head. Ben reached out and caught the Innkeeper's arm preventing him from finishing the attack. The Innkeeper turned his raging face to the placid yet now serious face of the gentle giant. The peacful calm of the face juxtaposed with the vice like grip he felt around his elbow caught him off guard. "There will be no more of that." Ben's voice was as solid as his hold on the Innkeeper wh was begining to panic.

"Help," the Innkeeper seemed to address to the world.