He held his head with one hand as he clumsily made his way to the other side of the car. He gripped the seat as he scrambled out of the car and stumbled a moment. Finally he stood - an unsteady lean figure staring over the edge of the cliff.
"Geez," he finally said. The word came out with a rush of air. He looked pale.
"Mister," she prodded him. "We'd best get up that there hill. It's fixin' to get dark here dreckly."
His absent gaze shifted to her. "Monroe," he said without emotion. "Barrett Monroe."
She frowned. “Barrett? What kinda name is that?”
“Family name,” he mumbled. “Just call me Monroe if it bothers you.”
She gave him a brusque nod and turned away, working her way back around the car. There she turned and watched him as he stumbled after her. Was he in any condition to walk at all?
He finally made it around the car and squinted up the hill.
"I might be able to hook the wench to a tree and pull the car out of here." He staggered around through the brush and inspected the front of the car. He grimaced.
"Front end is tore all to heck." Again he squinted up the hill into the setting sun. "Long way up," he commented with a grimace. He took a step toward the hill and caught one foot in a tangle of vines, falling to the ground like a sack of feed.
Instinctively Mary Joe moved toward him to help, but he quickly scrambled to his feet - too quickly. His angular features paled and he gasped, holding his head as he rocked with agony. Without warning, he leaned forward and retched.
Her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch and she looked away. "Are you sure you can make it up that there hill? Maybe I should oughta go somewheres and call the police while you sit here and..."
"No.” His voice was terse. "I can make it. Just lead the way. I'll follow."
She shrugged. He might as well give it a try. It would be dark before she could hope to get any help. In his condition, he might wander off and get lost. She started up the hill, grabbing at limbs and thick vines to assist her assent. Monroe followed without a single complaint - even when he lost his footing and slid several feet back down the hill. He was no mountain climber; that was for sure. Never had she seen a man go at a hill in such a clumsy way. Was he simply that clumsy, or was his head injury that bad?