A Shadow Of The Past
Johnny stepped into the darkened streets of Morro Coyo feeling
no pain. He started whistling as he made his way to Barranca, intent on getting
home at a 'reasonable' hour, as his old man had said. No point in making him
mad again, he thought. Besides, it had been a good night. He'd won several
poker hands and had a nice time with Sally upstairs. And, he thought with a
grin, he was leaving his brother behind. Scott wasn't ready to go yet so,
Johnny figured he wouldn't be the one getting the evil eye over breakfast in
the morning.
Laughing softly, he patted Barranca's neck as he came alongside
and, with a flick of the wrist, released the reins from the hitching post then
swung into the saddle. Settling his weight, he adjusted his hat and looked up
at the full moon overhead. It was a beautiful fall night,
the air had a crispness that rejuvenated a man's spirits with just the smell.
He could detect the burning of wood in fireplaces nearby and smiled once more.
He pressed his heels to Barranca's sides and moved out at a
slow walk, in no real hurry. Leaving the town limits, he looked around, noting
the leafless trees and feeling the crunch of the now lifeless, paper thin
remains beneath Barranca's hooves. Somehow, that sound relaxed him even more.
He liked this time of year. There was still plenty of green but the fall colors
just set a body into an easy rhythm. When the sun hit those colors, he could
think of nothing more beautiful.
He began whistling again as he started through the pass. It was
surrounded on both sides by high cliffs that could make for a treacherous path.
At night, the light fog swirled around the ground, hovering just over the leaf
covered trail, disturbed only by the passing of man or beast. It was so quiet
he thought he could hear his own heartbeat. Then, he heard something else.
Johnny pulled to a stop and looked around, straining to listen.
He knew he'd heard something out there. He was just past the cliffs on his
left, the right still spread out another few hundred feet. There was a small
clearing now that led into the woods not fifty feet away. The fog was thicker
here, reaching almost to his knees as he sat the horse. Squinting
his eyes, he thought he saw movement and his right hand settled on his gun.
The fog swirled menacingly around him. The shadows deepened and
the air grew damp. Apprehensively, he clutched
his Colt, ready to react at the first sign of danger. But he heard and saw
nothing. The sound that had penetrated the warm glow of alcohol had seemingly
ceased, if he had heard anything at all. In fact, the silence was overwhelming,
unearthly.
Johnny’s nerves screamed in his ears, his body tensed. He
stared harder into the mist surrounding him. Unknowingly, he tightened his grip
on the reins, pulling Barranca’s tender mouth painfully. The palomino shook his
head in protest at the tight grip. Disturbed by the tension in his rider, the
stallion pawed the ground nervously, snorting loudly. Alerted to the animal’s
discomfort, Johnny forced himself to relax, chiding himself for abusing his
mount.
Suddenly, a shadow grew in the darkness, separating itself from
the fog. It drew nearer, taking on form and features. Johnny’s attention was
captured by the manifestation. He rubbed his eyes, seeking to determine if it
were real or merely a figment of an overactive imagination.
“Juanito,” came the soft voice. “Juanito.” Feminine,
familiar, the shape came closer still. She wore a long, flowing gown of light
color which hugged her curvy figure daringly. Her face was hidden by the dark,
flowing tresses cascading to her tiny waist.
Shocked, Johnny’s mouth gaped open. His hand dropped from the
gun nestled in his holster, his body suddenly felt leaden. “Mama?” he choked. “Usted?”
But she was gone, vanished into the fog, as if she had never
been there. Johnny drew in a deep breath and laughed nervously, the sound of
his own voice seeming loud in the silent darkness. “Guess that will teach me to
drink whiskey instead of tequila.”
He patted Barranca’s muscular neck and urged him forward.
“Let’s get home, fella, okay?”
*
Morning dawned in all her glory, rays of pink and gold reaching
from the heavens to the earth, dispelling the night’s darkness. The chill of the evening retreated before the
warmth of the sun.
As the day broke, Johnny awoke from a restless sleep. He struggled to free his legs from the tangle
of blankets and groaned as he realized he was still fully clothed. His head
ached with the residual effects of a wild night on the town. Wiping an arm
across his brow, he succeeded in throwing back the covers and rolling to a
sitting position.
Leaning over, elbows resting on his knees and head firmly
planted in his hands, he allowed another groan before vigorously scrubbing his
face and pulling himself together. Slowly, he stood and walked to the wash
basin to begin his morning routine.
He paused with razor in midair as memory washed over him of the
ride home last night. Suddenly, he shivered, watching in fascination as his
hand began to tremble. Lowering it quickly and dropping the blade into the
basin, he stepped away from the dresser and closed his eyes. Slow, even breaths
were pulled in and blown out until he felt his heart rate slow to a normal
rhythm.
Crazy, he thought then went back to his shave. He pushed the
idea he'd seen his mother's ghost out of his mind and finished dressing,
another idea forming. One much more enjoyable. He
hadn't heard Scott come in last night and was anxious to find out how his
brother had fared. Hopefully, Scott was much worse off. He couldn't imagine the
man wasn't, since Johnny was now only left with a dull headache.
Grabbing his gunbelt, he headed out the door, hurrying to the
kitchen to see if the older man had yet risen.
*
As suspected, Scott sat at the kitchen table, his head cradled
in one hand, elbow on the table surface. Johnny raised a brow then grinned at
the pallor of his brother's face. When he settled his gaze on Murdoch, the grin
slid away. It was obvious the man was unhappy, more than unhappy. Johnny fought
the smile. Well, why not? He thought. It's usually me that gets that look.
"Good morning!" he called loudly and cheerfully.
Scott's shoulders bunched and he rolled his head in his hand so
he could peek out at Johnny. A frown greeted his brother followed by a low
moan.
"Something wrong, Scott? Are you sick?" Johnny asked, the most innocent of faces made.
"God will get you for this, Johnny," Scott muttered.
Johnny's eyes widened then he laughed softly. Before he could
form a retort, Murdoch's baritone broke in. "Scott, you need to clear out
Murphy Creek today."
Scott's head came up too quickly and he closed his eyes, his
hand covering them a second before sliding down his face. "That's a two
hour ride."
"And?" Murdoch
growled. When Scott had nothing to say, he turned his attention to Johnny,
lowering his voice a decibel. "I need you to check the cattle in the east
pasture and make sure they're rounded up. Check for strays then ride over to
the south pasture and check that fence line. I want to get those cattle moved
by the end of the week."
Johnny only nodded his understanding, his mouth full and his
enjoyment of Scott's misery waning. The man really did look bad. He decided
once they left Murdoch's sight, he'd offer to switch jobs with his brother.
"Now that's settled, I want to discuss something
else." Murdoch turned his chair toward Scott and rested his right arm on
the table, his left hand on his knee as he studied his older son. "I'm
disappointed in you, Scott. I expect Johnny to get out of control at times
because he's younger and not as settled but, you know better."
*
The blond head came up slowly as Scott straightened his
shoulders and glared - or tried to - at his father. "Is that a fact?"
"Yes, that is a fact. I expect you to be more mature and
responsible than this."
Johnny was as stunned as his brother by Murdoch's dressing
down. He'd never heard such words aimed at his brother before. Softly, he pled
his brother's case. "Hey, Murdoch, take it easy. Everyone needs to cut
loose once in a while."
Murdoch turned his head toward his younger son. "This
doesn't concern you, Johnny. I'm talking to Scott who, I believe, is capable of
speaking for himself."
"Yes, I am quite capable, Sir. I realize I got a bit
carried away last night and I'm paying for it now. It's enough of a reminder. I
don't need to be chastised like a child." He wanted to shout the words but
he knew his head would simply roll off his shoulders if he tried.
"Apparently, you do, Scott. What were you thinking?
Getting drunk and stumbling in here at
Johnny sat back in his chair and stared at his brother.
"Obviously, I wasn't thinking. I was enjoying myself for a
change. Even responsible people can do that, Murdoch. Perhaps you should try it
sometime. It might wipe that frown off your face for an hour or so."
Johnny slid out of his chair and lightly stepped toward the
door. He wasn't about to get in the middle of this. His brother had lost his
mind somewhere along the line and Johnny had no intentions of listening to the
two of them go at it.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Johnny stopped, frozen in step. Jesus, Scott! Why'd you do
that? Slowly, he turned back. "Just thought I'd get out
of the way, brother."
"Sit down. I've been in the middle of enough of your
arguments with our father. It's your turn."
Murdoch was seething. "Johnny doesn't need to hear this,
Scott. And don't think you're going to distract me from that comment you just
made."
"I wasn't trying to but, like I said, I've had to endure
enough from you two. He can damned well endure this!"
Johnny sat back down, knowing his brother was right. He'd
thought Scott wouldn't want an audience but, at this point, maybe his brother
needed some support. And, he'd give it because Murdoch was being an ass.
Besides, Scott didn't look so good.
*
"How dare you make such a remark? I deserve some respect,
young man!" Murdoch's voice had gone back up as his rage grew and Johnny
leaned as far away as he could get.
"As do I, Sir! I've done everything asked of me. I've
followed your edicts without question but I am a grown man and if I want to
'cut loose' ONCE in a year, I will and I don't expect to be sat down for
it!"
Murdoch tapped his index finger on the table top. "When
your amusement interferes with the running of this ranch, I WILL have a say in
it, Scott!"
Standing up slowly, Scott pressed his lips together for a
minute. "My amusement hasn't interfered with anything, Sir. As you can
see, I am up and at the table on time and I'm going to work as usual."
Murdoch sat back and looked up at his son, nodding his head. "Fine. Let's see just how far you get today."
Face rigid, Scott turned on his heel and stormed out the back
door.
Johnny stood quickly and headed after his brother. He paused at
the door and turned back to his father. "He's right and you know it."
Without waiting for a reply, he left to find Scott.
*
Johnny found Scott in the barn, head down, leaning against the
shoulder of his bay stallion. Unaware of Johnny’s approach, he suddenly fled
the stall and made his way to the back of the barn. The sounds of retching
could be distinctly heard and Johnny’s heart went out to his brother. Thinking
quickly, he retrieved a pail and ran to the trough, pumped water into the
bucket then returned to the cool, dimly lit interior of the barn. He was
sitting on a bale of hay, pail between his feet, studying his hands when Scott returned
from outdoors, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. When he saw Johnny, Scott walked
over and sat beside him.
Johnny took his bandana from around his neck, dipped it in the
water and gently placed it around his brother’s neck. “Murdoch got up on the wrong side of the bed
this morning. He’ll be in a better mood this evening, you’ll see.”
Scott lifted his head; his blue grey eyes stared thankfully
into his brother’s face. “You know that isn’t so, brother.”
“Yeah, I guess not,” Johnny laughed gently. “Still in all, he
was wrong and even if he never says it, he knows it. He knows we know it, too.”
Scott grimaced. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Try to make me laugh. It feels like my head is going to float
off my shoulders and Teresa wouldn’t like it if I made an appearance at the
barbeque this weekend without it. The headless horseman is supposed to be a
myth.”
A flicker of distress crossed Johnny’s face, the memory of last
night’s apparition suddenly springing into his mind. As quickly as it had come,
the expression disappeared and Scott wondered if he had seen it at all. He
would have sworn Johnny looked fearful. But of what? Certainly not the old man.
Scott gripped his brother’s shoulder. “Johnny? Is something
wrong?”
“No, nothing.” Johnny
flashed him a wide grin then slapped him in the belly. “Damn,
Wincing, Scott rested a hand lightly over his stomach. “Queasy
doesn’t begin to describe it."
Johnny pushed his hat off his head as he nodded. “Look, I’ll
make the ride to the creek while you check the fences. The old man doesn’t have
to know.”
“You sure?”
Johnny shrugged. “Yeah, we don’t have to tell him.”
“I meant about switching jobs.”
Scott did sound better but Johnny knew his brother was made of
sterner stuff than he had first imagined. “Yeah, I’m sure. Got some things to
think over and the ride will do me good.”
“What things? Something is wrong.”
“Nope, just the alcohol talking.” Johnny
strode to the stall where Barranca stood patiently waiting. Saddling swiftly,
he led Barranca out the stall and toward the main door of the barn. “It’s
nothing. I’ll see you tonight.”
Scott led his bay stallion out and stood puzzled as his brother
disappeared in a cloud of dust. Mounting, he shook off the feeling Johnny had
been keeping something from him then pressed his bay into an easy gait.
*
Johnny stretched leisurely, allowing Barranca’s ground eating
lope to carry him quickly to Murphy Creek.
Unbidden, the horse came to a stop near the bank. Johnny made no move to
correct the palomino as he lowered his head and nuzzled the lush grass.
Last night’s damp fog was but a memory dimmed by the glorious
beauty of the Fall day. The vivid blue expanse of sky
above was broken only by an occasional fluffy white cloud. Eagles
soared high overhead, masters of their domain. In the brilliant light of
day, the apparition of the night before quickly faded away and Johnny found
himself feeling lighter, easier.
Lithely, he sprang from the saddle,
ground hitched Barranca and strode into the creek. He splashed a handful of
water onto his face relishing the coolness then grasped the first branch and
wrestled it out. The removal of each subsequent limb freed the water to
continue its journey. The sun was high overhead when Johnny climbed up the bank
to study his work. The creek bubbled and gurgled, sounding like nature’s
laughter as it flowed easily.
His good mood was abruptly shattered by the sudden feeling he
was being watched. Johnny whirled around quickly, his gun drawn and at the
ready. But there was nothing. Not even a breeze to stir the leaves on the
trees. Still, the hair on his neck stood at attention, his instincts urged him
to stay alert.
A quick glance at Barranca reassured him somewhat. The stallion
was grazing contentedly, unaware of any danger. Years of riding the trail had
taught him to rely on only two things, his gun and the instincts of his horse.
He laughed aloud at his foolishness and strode to where Barranca stood, picking
up his reins. Barranca snorted and shied from his touch. Again the impression
of a dark cloud crossed his mind. And again, as he studied the surrounding
terrain, he felt the prick of foolishness.
Nothing disturbed the peaceful valley, nothing moved save the
birds of prey circling high above. Still the sudden urge to be home, among
family and friends overwhelmed him and he mounted up then touched spurs to the
palomino’s sides pressing him into a gallop.
*
Johnny settled himself after half an hour of riding and
realized he was being ridiculous. He decided to head for the south pasture,
hoping Scott had gotten that far. If not, he’d get that job done for his
brother. He couldn’t imagine Scott had made much of a dent in anything unless
he’d found someone or something to hit.
Frowning, Johnny wondered if his arguments with the old man
sounded as lame as the one he’d witnessed this morning. Maybe, Murdoch was as
unreasonable with him as he’d been with Scott. If that were the case, he
thought he should listen more closely to what Murdoch said instead of letting
his anger rule his mouth and his ears. Johnny smiled a little at that and
increased Barranca’s gait.
When he arrived at the pasture, it was evident Scott hadn’t
been there. Johnny dismounted and began repairing a small section of fencing.
It took no more than twenty minutes then he walked the fence line looking for
other problems. Making repairs along the way, he focused his mind on what he
was doing, resolute that the thoughts of earlier that morning would stay jammed
in the back of his mind. Hopefully, they would leave him altogether.
He moved closer and closer to the tree line where the woods
began. Sweat dripped from his chin as he tested wire and posts, finding most
sound. At least that was one less thing to worry about – for now. He smiled as
he realized he’d be repairing or replacing this fence for the rest of his life.
The mere thought brought him comfort.
Barranca followed his master slowly, grazing here and there but
as they neared the woods, the palomino stopped. The sudden change in routine
didn’t go unnoticed and Johnny turned to the horse. Barranca backed up several
feet and Johnny walked toward him.
“What? What is it, fella?”
The horse snorted and bobbed its head then backed away a little
further.
Suddenly, Johnny tensed and turned toward the woods. He could
just make out a shadow near one tree and he squinted even as he drew his gun. “Who’s there?!”
There was no answer but he knew someone was watching him. He
wasn’t blind. The shadow moved, disappearing behind the tree and Johnny grabbed
his reins, vaulting into the saddle. “I don’t know what’s spookin you about
this but we’re going over there, Barranca.” He laid his spurs to the horse and
took off toward the woods fifty yards away.
Johnny slid to the ground and Barranca began backing away
again. This time, Johnny ignored him and walked into the woods. The brilliant
light of
“Who’s there?!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.
Frustrated, Johnny walked back into the clearing and shoved his
pistol into the holster. Running a hand down his face, he shook his head. “I
think I’m losing my mind, Barranca.”
*
He had just finished checking a section of worrisome fence and
was tucking his tools into his saddlebag when he saw Scott riding toward him.
Johnny smiled a little as he secured the flap then mounted up and walked
Barranca to meet his brother. Scott wasn't pale anymore but he still looked a
little worse for wear.
"Looks like you'll live now," he called as the man
approached.
"It was touch and go there for a while. How far have you
gotten?"
"Done, brother.
Everything is fine here."
Scott looked closely at him, noting the tone that didn't quite
convince him all was well. He quirked his lips.
"I'm grateful, Johnny. The creek is okay, too?"
Johnny gave him one of his most disarming grins. "Of course! What'ya think I
am, a slacker?"
Chuckling softly, Scott shook his head. "No,
never that. So," he started, his face falling more serious,
"what's going on with you? You seem ... I don't know, jumpy."
The grin slowly dissipated as Johnny considered confessing.
Knowing Scott would take him seriously, he made his decision quickly.
"Let's start toward home and I'll tell you."
Scott reined his steed round and matched Barranca's walk,
waiting and watching his brother's face warily.
"Think I'm seeing things. Or ..." he sighed and tried
again. "Last night, on my way home, I thought I saw a woman standing near
Wyndham's woods. It was foggy but I could've sworn she was there. Then, all the
sudden she was gone. I figured I'd had one too many, ya know?" He glanced
over and saw Scott nod, his face revealing nothing. "Earlier today at the
creek, I felt like I was being watched but no one was there then, here again, I
saw a shadow moving in the woods. I went to check it out but, nothing. I know I
saw something ... someone."
Scott said nothing for a while, then, "what about
Barranca?"
"He was skittish when I went over to those woods a while
ago, no doubt. But, at the creek he was fine."
"What about last night?"
"Well," he breathed out, "he wasn't real happy
but I figured that was my fault. Pulled too hard on the
bit."
"Maybe, you were more hungover than you thought? I trust
your instincts, brother, but you said no one was there."
Johnny grimaced then nodded. "Yeah, maybe it was just the
whiskey talkin. Speaking of which, are you gonna talk to Murdoch about this
morning?"
It was Scott's turn to grimace. "I'm going to apologize
for what I said to him but that's all."
*
Scott leaned against the stall and watched Johnny groom
Barranca for a full ten minutes before he said anything. "You're stalling."
"Figured I'd give you and the old man
a chance to settle things privately." He couldn't quite keep the
grin off his face.
"Forget it, brother. Like I said this morning, I've been
in the middle of enough of your squabbles. You can endure this with me."
Johnny patted the palomino's neck then turned to face his
brother. "Scared?"
Scott rolled his eyes. "Hardly."
When Johnny turned to set the brush down, he muttered, "not much." He
winced when he heard the soft laugh. "Is there anything you don't hear?"
Johnny walked through the gate opening then latched it back.
Leaning into his brother, he tapped his stomach lightly. "Not much."
They walked out of the barn together, arms wrapped around each
other's shoulders, both smiling until they spied Murdoch standing on the
veranda watching them. Johnny felt his brother tense and he shook his head
slightly. Before they could reach the older man, he'd turned and walked inside.
Warily, the brother's entered through the French doors. Before
either could even hail a greeting, Murdoch started.
"Did you get that creek cleared and the pastures
ready?"
"Everything is ready to go. We can start moving the cattle
whenever you say. Oh, and hi." Johnny plopped
into a chair across the desk from his father.
Murdoch nodded, his eyes on Scott, studying him intently.
"And which of you did what?"
"What difference does it make? It's done and that's what
counts."
Scott laid a hand on his brother's shoulder then sat beside
him. "Johnny cleared the creek and checked the south pasture. I rounded up
the herd in the east pasture and made sure they were ready. That won't be
happening again, either. I'd also like to apologize for the disrespectful
remark I made this morning about you enjoying yourself."
Murdoch waited for more but nothing was forthcoming. "And the rest, Scott?"
"The rest, Sir, I won't apologize for. I stayed out late
and drank too much. I didn't do the whole job today but I was working and since
I don't make a habit of it, I don't think it's a state crime."
"Besides, he would have done it if I hadn't traded jobs
with him," Johnny added. "See, the way I figure it, clearing out that
creek was the same amount of work as the east pasture. I mean, if you were
tallying scores or anything like that." The sarcasm in his voice was
hardly missed by either man.
Murdoch's jaw clenched closed. He hated it when they ganged up
on him like this. He knew he couldn't win but, he also knew Scott's behavior
last night and this morning was uncharacteristic and he hadn't had to make such
a big deal of it. Still, he called the tune. "There is no need for that
tone, young man. We'll move the herd next week as scheduled. Several men will
need to stay with them and I promised them this barbeque Saturday."
Johnny's lips twitched and he lowered his head. He could tell
Scott was still ticked off, could fairly feel the heat coming off his brother.
"Well, we should get cleaned up for supper." He grabbed his brother's
arm as he stood, pulling the man up with him. "Come on, ya old
drunk."
*
Johnny stretched leisurely, aware that he had almost fallen
asleep in the tub. The bath water was still warm though the evening breeze had
cooled the room considerably. He slipped
deeper into the tub, submerging his head beneath the warm water. Holding his breath he blew through his nose
and counted the small bubbles as they rose toward the surface.
Reluctantly, Johnny pulled himself to a sitting position. He
knew Scott would be awaiting his turn to use the bathhouse and he could no
longer linger. He didn’t want to cause Scott to be late for dinner. “Can’t give
the old man anything else to crow about,” he muttered as he shook his head. He
left the tub and vigorously toweled his body dry.
As he donned his clean clothes, Johnny allowed his gaze to
sweep around the small room and settle on the window high in the west-facing
wall. The sun’s light was fading as she sank beneath the horizon. In the
distance, cattle lowed, and somewhere an unseen dog bayed at the approaching
night.
Johnny stepped outside the bathhouse, vaguely disturbed that
Scott had not put in an appearance as he was wont to do. The younger Lancer
shivered as a cool draft tickled his still wet head. Beyond the circle of light
that spilled through the open door behind him, the shadows deepened, casting
his own figure in stark relief against the darkness. Trees and buildings cast
eerie ever-lengthening shadows across the earth as the light of day dimmed.
A faint mist was blowing in from the west and Johnny’s memory
took him back to the trail last night. He ran his gaze quickly around the area
between his position and the back door of the hacienda, apprehension building
in his chest.
“Juanito,” she called softly.
*
“Who’s there?” Johnny demanded, his hand falling to his right
hip. Clutching only fabric, longing for the comfort of his gun, he peered
intently into the darkness. “Show yourself.”
A figure materialized in the gloom, tall and slender. “Who are
you talking to?” Scott asked, his voice reflecting concern and a trace of
humor.
“Nothing, no one.”
“Come on, Brother, I heard you."
“You’re imagining things,
“I could say the same thing to you, you know.”
“I know. I just, I don’t know. I thought it was the alcohol the
other night.” Johnny sighed heavily. “Maybe I’m losing my mind.”
Scott clasped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Relax, Johnny,
maybe you just need a good night’s sleep,” he soothed, trying to ease his brother’s
tension.
“Maybe,
Scott, maybe.” Johnny slapped his brother’s hand off his shoulder and moved
toward the hacienda. “Don’t be late,
Dinner was a quiet affair, Murdoch moody and unwilling to
forgive his older son’s disrespect. Scott and Johnny exchanged hidden glances,
amused by their father’s peevish attitude.
Only Teresa seemed unaware of any tension between the three
men. She chattered gaily about the upcoming barbeque, the decorations, the menu. Her animated monologue was broken by the clatter
of Murdoch’s spoon as he laid the instrument on his saucer.
Loudly, the older man sipped his coffee, his eyes raking across
the faces of his sons and young ward. “We’ve had enough of this, don’t you
think, boys?”
“Scott and I have no problems here, Old Man. We’ve been
enjoying Teresa’s good cooking and conversation.” Johnny winked at his brother,
smothering a grin as Scott almost choked in amusement.
Johnny forked a piece of steak into
his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. His gaze was drawn by the flickering
candlelight in the center of the table and a feeling of warmth and well-being
invaded his heart. This was what it meant to be loved and wanted and to love in
return. Even when disagreements ruffled the calm atmosphere, the strong family
bond still prevailed. His appreciation of his new-found familial bliss was
interrupted by the sensation of being watched. He quickly glanced at the three
members of his family seated at the table and found their attention to be on
the meal before them. Yet the feeling persisted, became even more intense.
Hesitantly, he turned his head to face the French doors. She
stood within the frame of the open doorway, shadows from the moving drapery
lifting and swirling around her entire body, her hair flowing wildly about her
face with the strong breeze.
Johnny froze for a second then quickly looked back at his
family who were intent on the meal. He jumped to his feet, his chair crashing
to the floor behind him. Wide eyed, he stared at the woman in the doorway and
made to move toward her only to be stopped by Teresa’s hand on his arm. Johnny hesitated, and looked expectantly at her.
“Johnny, what is it?”
“Look,” Johnny pointed toward the French doors. “Don’t you see
her?” His mouth fell open when he looked back and saw the apparition was gone.
Scott’s expression was one of bewilderment as he leaned forward
to see around the corner of the dining room and then faced his younger brother
once more. “See who?”
Johnny looked first at Scott, then Murdoch and finally Teresa,
his tanned features unusually pale, and pleaded, “Come on, you must have seen
her! She was standing in the doorway!”
Murdoch was on his feet, circling the table toward his younger
son. “John, there’s no one there.”
“Yes, there was!” Johnny exploded,
frustration evident in his tense body. “She was right there. One of you had to
have seen her.”
“Maybe it was a shadow or something,” Teresa suggested gently.
Murdoch and Scott nodded their heads in agreement.
Johnny eyed the three people who stood anxiously watching him.
Gone was his earlier feeling elicited by the safety and security of family to
be replaced by heated anger. Anger and something more … fear. And, yes, he was
afraid. He admitted it, embraced it and accepted it. Either he was being
haunted, or he was losing his mind and Johnny did not know which was worse.
“She was there. I saw her,” he choked out before leaving the
room and heading upstairs.
“Scott? You know anything about what’s going on?” Murdoch asked
earnestly.
“No, Sir, I haven’t a clue.” Scott lied glibly, without guilt.
He silently vowed to keep his brother’s confidence until he was sure of
Johnny’s frame of mind.
*
The day of the barbeque dawned in all her glory, Fall’s colors painting the horticulture as if an artist had
dipped his brush and carefully decorated each and every leaf. The mountains
stood purpled and in sharp contrast to the reds, greens, and golds of the trees
and shrubbery. The sky of deepest blue was uninterrupted by even the smallest wisp
of cloud.
Beneath the brilliant light of day, ranch hands scurried to and
fro, carrying out their assigned chores while the young woman excitedly called
out her instructions. “Manuel, put that row of lights there on the wall. Oh,
and we need more lanterns in that tree over there.”
“Teresa, you’re going wear them out. They won’t be able to
enjoy the dance at this rate,” Scott laughed from behind her.
“Oh, I just want everything to be perfect. This is such a
tradition, you know. Lancer has been hosting these barbeques for twenty years.”
“Yes, and every year they are a fabulous success. Otherwise,
our neighbors wouldn’t attend them.”
Teresa raised her eyes to meet Scott’s, a smile lighting her
face as she caught the twinkle in his gaze. “Oh, you’re right. I’m just so
excited.”
*
Music, sweet and melodious drifted on the night breeze,
interrupted only by the sound of the dancers’ laughter. Through the gaily lit
lanterns and the throng of people milling around the various tables laden with
food and drink, Johnny could just make out the tall silhouette of his father
dancing with the Widow Porter. The man moved with a grace and agility that
seemed to contradict his size. Murdoch lowered his head and whispered in the
widow’s ear, eliciting a smile. The sight of his father obviously enjoying an
intimate moment with the petite brunette inexplicably disturbed
Johnny and he turned away.
He crossed the porch and came to the hitching post. Placing his
hands on the rail he lowered his head and drew in deep breaths. Somehow the
events of the last few days coupled with the sight of his father engaged in a
possibly romantic liaison served to irritate his normally cool nerves. He
hadn't slept well these past nights, dreams invading his slumber and causing
him to awaken several times every night had left him drained. He closed his
eyes, visions of the past again dancing in his mind. Visions of his mother
dancing in the cantina, flushed and beautiful, encouraged by the rowdy whoops
of drunken men, then dancing in the quiet of their small home – dancing, she
was always dancing.
A wave of melancholy flowed through Johnny, opening his heart
to past wounds. He drew in another ragged breath struggling to banish the past
into the far reaches of his memory. It was childish to begrudge his father a
good time with a pretty woman. Didn’t he deserve to move on, to live again?
Yet, he had seen his mother. Hadn’t he?
If Maria was here, somewhere out there, seeking to contact him
shouldn’t he meet her halfway? Shouldn’t he find her? But this line of thinking
was absurd. She was dead, he had seen her die. “So I am losing my mind then,”
he whispered softly.
His shoulders went up as a cool breeze caused a shiver down his
spine. He turned to his left, away from the party and saw the shadowy figure
lit by the glow of the full moon. She swayed to and fro and swirled, her red
skirts twirling in rhythm to the music. He swore he heard a soft, melodious
laugh emanating from her. She wore a white, peasant blouse just like …
Johnny started toward her, his steps hesitant as he closed in.
Suddenly, he heard his name called loudly and he turned, his hand going to his
right side in reaction. He stared at his father striding toward him, a
determined look on the older man’s face. Johnny turned back quickly but, she
was gone.
*
“Son, come back to the party.”
Taking a slow, deep breath to still his thundering heart,
Johnny swiped a hand down his face as he turned back to his father. “I’m fine
right here.”
Murdoch stared at him for too long before he finally spoke.
“What’s wrong, son? Something is troubling you, it’s easy to see.”
Johnny gave him a sidelong look and considered telling his
father what he’d been experiencing. Before he could make that decision, Scott
approached them wearing a wide smile.
“Alright, you two, I need some help here. I didn’t think there
would be this many lovely ladies tonight. I need someone to distract a few of
them until I can make my rounds.”
Murdoch chuckled at his son’s hubris and laid a hand on his
shoulder. “I was just trying to convince your brother to join us.”
Scott’s smile wavered only slightly as he looked at his
brother. Even in the shadows playing across Johnny’s face, he could see a fine
sheen of sweat and a loss of color.
“I’ll be right there. Just need to stretch my legs a little
more before I get dragged on the dance floor.”
Scott heard what Johnny didn’t say; could hear the ever so
slight tremor in his voice and he wrapped an arm around his father’s waist.
“You’re a man of your word, brother. We’ll see you soon, then.” Turning to his
father, he gave a slight tug. “Come on, Murdoch. We’ll just make sure the
pickings are slim when brother Johnny returns.”
Johnny sighed his relief when Scott
walked their father back to the crowd. He owed Scott big for that one. His
brother could always tell when he was feeling caged and, right now, he wanted
to scream. He wandered back to the hitching post and leaned against it,
crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes wandered back to where he’d just
seen her. Why couldn’t anyone else see her? Maybe, because
she ain’t there, Johnny.
Dios! It was eerie how much she looked like his mother.
Admittedly, he hadn’t seen her face clearly yet. But, the build, the way she
moved to the music, that laugh – that was all Maria Lancer. He lowered his head
and shook it slowly back and forth. Was he really losing his mind? Why now,
after all these years was he suddenly seeing his mother?
Bringing his head back up, Johnny determined he was not going
to fall into this … whatever it was. He pushed off the hitching rail and
sauntered back to the party promising himself he wouldn’t fail his family by
locking himself away in the house again.
*
Teresa stood by the refreshment table, her smile lighting the
whole yard to Johnny’s mind. He couldn’t help his own lips tugging upward when
he saw her. Glowing, that was the word. She was glowing and she was happy and
he wasn’t going to ruin this for her.
“There you are. I was beginning to think you’d run off.”
His smile widened at what she didn’t say. ‘Again’.
He was sure she was thinking it, anyway. He wrapped an arm around her small
waist and pulled her in for a quick hug. “Just getting some
air, honey. Looks like your party is a big success.”
Teresa’s eyes roamed the crowd. “Yes, I’m so happy things are
going well. I don’t suppose I could convince you to dance with me?”
Blinking once, Johnny looked down at her and gave her one of
his most infamous smiles. Bending deep at the waist, he took her hand. “Miss
Teresa, I would be honored.”
Momentarily stunned, it took her a second to respond. She set
her punch glass down then walked to the dance area with him, her smile still
radiant.
Johnny whirled her around the floor, his eyes rising to take in
the other dancers. He nodded at a few of them in greeting then, he saw her
again. There, on the outer edge of the dancers, he saw her, he knew it was her!
He twirled Teresa around so he could see better but, she was gone again.
He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the girl in his
arms but, after a few seconds, his eyes wandered once more. It seemed each time
he looked up; he caught just a glimpse of this mystery woman. He was grateful
when the song ended and he walked Teresa back to the tables.
“Just one? You’re
too stingy, Johnny.”
“Sorry, honey,” he said, his eyes scanning the whole yard, “I
need to see someone.” He started to walk away then stopped and glanced back.
“Thanks,” he called before disappearing into the throng.
*
Johnny made his way through the crowds, shouldering past and
ignoring the greetings given him. He only managed to wave a hand at some when
his passage was slowed. Eyes searching every face, he finally made it to the
other side of the yard.
He moved around the perimeter, looking into the crowds and
around them then made his way to the corner of the house. He sighed in
frustration then walked around to the gardens. There were a few people there,
mostly young couples holding hands and standing too close, their parents would
say, he was sure. But once he’d checked every female, he ignored them.
He made his way all around the gardens and even checked within
the rose bushes and shrubbery. She couldn’t have gotten far. He pulled up and
snapped his fingers. The barn! Of course. With
purpose, he headed that way at a quick pace.
Johnny opened the side door and slipped inside the darkened
barn. There were a few lanterns lit here and there but they only leant to the
deep shadows in the depths of the building. He moved softly, almost silently
into the interior then, he stopped on a dime.
He heard voices, soft and muted. He cocked his head to the side
as he tried to discern which direction then, he moved once more. Clandestinely,
he made his way to the voices, certain he would
discover his tormentor. When he rounded a corner into an open stall, he stopped
short.
Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Johnny stared at the
man and woman before him. Suddenly, he felt a rush of heat flame his cheeks and
he ducked his head, turning aside.
“Sorry, I was looking for someone,” he muttered then made to
leave.
“Who were you looking for, John? There were others here a
minute ago.”
Johnny turned quickly back to his father, trying desperately to
just ignore Mrs. Porter. “Who was here?”
Murdoch frowned at the demanding tone then, glanced at his
companion briefly. “Sam was here and the Thompsons.”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t lookin for them. Sorry to disturb you.”
“You weren’t disturbing us, Johnny. We were just talking about
the Spring social next year,” Mrs. Porter said in a
light tone.
He forced a tight smile, nodded his head and made tracks out of
the barn. Standing outside, he leaned against the building and took a deep
breath.
*
Unable to bear the spirit of the festivities, Johnny chose
instead to retreat to the sanctuary of his room. He closed the door behind him
and leaned heavily against the solid oak. He tightly closed his eyes and took a
deep breath seeking to steady his nerves. Long moments passed before he began
to feel even remotely at peace. With a jerk, he hade his way
to the window.
After the coolness of the evening breeze his room felt warm and
stuffy so he pulled back the heavy drapes and opened the window, then leaned his back against the wall. Instantly the
refreshing breeze stole into the room, its touch cooling his heated flesh.
Johnny breathed in deeply, filling his lungs to full capacity and trying to
stave off the exhaustion which seemed to suddenly increase tenfold.
Sounds of the party; the music and laughter reached his ears.
Above the noise of the celebrants below, another sound rose, set apart from the
entertainment. A soft
droning, the melody familiar and disturbing. As Johnny strained to catch
the tune, the song grew louder. Unbidden, the tune escaped his clenched teeth
and he began to hum along.
Johnny closed his eyes and allowed the melody to carry him back
in time to a dismal hovel that passed as home, and a
beautiful woman as she swayed in time with the rhythm. Her hips moved
seductively, a wide smile lifted the corners of her mouth and she hummed in
time with a song only she could hear.
“Dance with me, Juanito,” she whispered as she took him in her
arms.
“There’s no music, mama,” he pointed out in bewilderment.
“Of course there is. Just close your eyes and listen.” She
began to lead him in the dance, her hands light on his small shoulders. “Can
you hear it now, my sweet boy?”
“Yes, mama, yes. I can
hear it!” Johnny lifted his voice to match hers and as they hummed the poignant
melody, they moved as one, lost in the dance.
Abruptly, the embrace was broken. Johnny opened his eyes,
seeking his partner but, all he saw was his bedroom door closing. He swayed a
little then hitched in a breath.
“Wait, mama, don’t go.” Johnny ran after her, desperation to
catch her lending his feet wings. As he approached the top of the stairs he
caught a glimpse of skirt then heard the front door of the hacienda open and
close. “Mama, wait!”
Johnny threw open the door and ran headlong into Murdoch’s
broad chest. Murdoch gripped his son’s shoulders firmly, restraining Johnny as
he sought to break the grip and run into the darkness.
“Let go, Old Man! Let go of me!” Johnny struggled fiercely but
Murdoch was equally determined.
“Johnny, what is wrong with you?”
”She’s getting away, damn it!”
Murdoch shook Johnny, attempting to break his son’s
concentration. “Johnny, there is no one there. No one came out the door!”
“Yes, she did. She was right in front of me. Now let me go!”
“Look, Johnny. No one is there,” Murdoch said gently, the
tender concern in his voice breaking through Johnny’s determination to escape.
Suddenly, Johnny wilted, all his energy deserting him. He allowed the strong
arm of his father to encircle his waist and guide him into the great room and
lower him to the sofa. In moments, a glass of tequila was thrust into his hand
and he was urged to drink.
Johnny swallowed deeply, relishing the burning sensation as the
alcohol seared his throat and landed hard in his stomach. Calmer now, he took
another swallow, emptying the glass. He
received a refill, pressed more gently into his hands. He raised his eyes and
gazed into the worried face of his father. “It’s okay,
Murdoch. I’m okay,” he whispered.
Murdoch studied his face intently, anxiety building in his
tense shoulders. “What’s going on with you, Son? Talk to me.”
Shaking his head, Johnny frowned deeply. “I don’t know. I
really don’t know. All I know is, I’m scared.” He
rose, and took a step away from Murdoch, distancing himself from the
disappointment to which he was sure his confession would subject him.
Following his son’s progress, Murdoch’s surprise couldn’t be
hidden. “Scared? Of what?”
“I think I’m losing my mind, Murdoch.” Johnny turned to face
the man. Like a dam that has burst, its waters flowing wildly over its walls,
his words poured forth, without pause, without thought.
“I keep seeing my mother. I see her everywhere! She was just in
my room, dancing with me. I know she’s dead. I know it! But, she’s here, right
now. Somewhere out there at the party.”
Murdoch took in the wild, slightly glazed eyes, his own mind
blank with the admission for a few seconds. Sucking in a breath, he tried to
reason this out. He stood and stepped up to his son, his voice gentle as he
spoke. “Johnny, you’re exhausted. Anyone can see it. Whatever is going on,
we’ll figure it out, son.” Gently placing a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, Murdoch
explained as if telling his son something new. “Your mother is dead, son.”
“You think I don’t know that! I watched her die!” His breathing
increased, his eyes even wilder as he stepped back, away from his father’s
touch. He shook his head slowly. “I’m losing my mind.”
Murdoch didn't think the party would ever end. He'd managed to
get Johnny into bed and, after considerable bargaining, he'd given his son a
sleeping draught. For the life of him, Murdoch
could not figure out why Johnny had suddenly started seeing his mother. For, he
believed his boy did think he was seeing Maria and, as frightened as
Johnny was, Murdoch’s own fear matched it. His temper was nearing its
capacity as he waded through the crowd, searching for his friend and,
hopefully, some reasonable explanation. With what he thought of as a
stroke of luck, he found Sam talking to Scott near the food tables. He
wasted no time in approaching them. "Gentlemen, please step in the house
with me."
"Something wrong, Sir?"
"Yes, Scott. Something is very wrong. Please, in the
house." Murdoch turned and walked to the front door, leaving the two men,
baffled and worried, to follow him.
Once in the great room, Scott immediately noticed the missing family member and
made a quick deduction. "Is it Johnny?"
Murdoch poured drinks all around, filling his own glass to the
brim. Once he handed off the liquor, he sat heavily in a chair. "Yes, it's
Johnny and, Scott, I want you to be honest now. I
know you’ve been covering for him to a degree."
Scott was as perplexed as he'd ever been and he fought back a
hint of irritation. He said nothing yet.
Murdoch told them both of his encounter with Johnny and what
had been said. When he'd finished, he looked expectantly at Scott.
Heaving in a deep breath, Scott nodded. "He said he saw
her when we were in town that night. Johnny left before I did and he told me he
saw a woman who looked like Maria on his way home. Then, the
next day, he saw her again when he was fixing the fence. And, you know
about the night at supper."
Sam looked between the two men, flummoxed. "And you are
just now saying something? Either of you? Why?"
he demanded.
Scott dipped his head then shrugged. "It didn't seem to be
a big deal at the time. Well, until supper that night."
"And when was this?" Sam asked.
Clearing his throat, Scott muttered, "last week."
Sam rolled his eyes and stood up. "Wonderful. I'll go see
him."
"I gave him a sleeping draught, Sam. He was so ... fragile. He was scared.
Really scared. I've never seen him like that."
Murdoch's voice quivered as he spoke, his worry deepening the lines in his
face.
Sam stared at his old friend for a long beat. "Alright, I'll come
out tomorrow to see him, then. Keep him home tomorrow, Murdoch. I don't
want him far from someone who can keep an eye on him."
Scott stood as the doctor did. "Do you think it's that
serious, Sam?"
"Well,
Scott, the man is seeing his dead mother, touching her, so he thinks. Yes, I'd
say that was serious.”
*
Scott stood before the fireplace, his arms crossed on the
mantle, head bowed. His drink, forgotten, sat beside his left elbow, moisture
dripping down the glass and puddling on the mantle. With a sigh, Scott lifted
his head and briskly rubbed his eyes. The barbeque had finally wound down and
dance-weary guests had climbed aboard their various rigs to begin the long trek
home. Scott had maintained his manners, and his polite social etiquette had
revealed none of the turmoil raging within.
As soon as the last guest had disappeared under the white
arches, Scott had rushed to Johnny’s room. He had been relieved to find his
brother peacefully sleeping but was nonetheless worried about his state of
mind. How would he be when the sleeping draught had worn off and no longer
subdued his subconscious? He had sat staring at his younger sibling, confused
and anxious. What had happened to cause this apparent mental collapse? Perhaps
the childhood traumas Johnny had endured had finally broken through his
reserves of will and shattered his peace of mind. With more questions than
answers Scott had left his brother’s room and now stood in the Great Room lost
in his own fears.
“Scott?” Murdoch approached his son and laid a hand on his
shoulder. “It’s late. Why are you still up?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I’m worried about Johnny, Sir.”
“I am, too, but Sam will be here again tomorrow. He’ll look him
over and talk to him. Maybe he can find the reason for Johnny’s strange
behavior.”
“And if he can’t? Find the answer, I mean? What then?” Scott
turned to face his father searching for reassurance he could not find in
Murdoch’s lined face.
“I don’t know, son. I just don’t know.”
Any hope Scott might have felt while he asked those questions,
faded with his father’s answer. “I suppose we should turn in now that
everyone’s gone home.”
Murdoch grimaced and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Not
everyone. Aggie noticed something was wrong and asked about it. She’s an old
friend. I couldn’t pretend with her. She and Buck are outside, still.”
Rolling his eyes and losing any patience, Scott huffed out a
breath. “Well, send them on their way. It’s not as if they can help. Johnny
doesn’t even like Buck Addison.”
Just then, they heard the front door open and Murdoch shot
Scott a warning glance. Aggie swept into the room and to Murdoch’s side,
wrapping her hands around one of his biceps.
“How is he, Murdoch?”
The rancher looked down into her gray eyes and smiled. “He’ll
be fine, Aggie. I think it was just the party. He hasn’t had much sleep lately
and he’s simply worn out. He’s resting and I’m sure by tomorrow, he’ll be one
hundred percent again.”
Buck Addison, his eyes glued to his wife and her best friend,
walked closer and put a protective hand on Aggie’s shoulder. “You see, my dear?
You were worried over nothing. All it will take to cure Johnny is a good
night’s sleep. We should be going.”
The worry on her face relaxed a measure but not completely.
“Well, if you’re sure you don’t need us.”
“We’re fine, ma’am,” Scott spoke up, anxious for them to be on
their way but hoping it wasn’t evident in his tone. “I just checked on him and
he’s snoring.” He forced a kind smile for the woman.
Buck took hold of her arm and eased her toward the door. “Maybe
Johnny should stop running around so much. I know he’s still young but, running
a ranch is a lot more work than he’s used to.”
Murdoch ground his teeth together. If Aggie weren’t there, he’d
tell
“You’re always welcome here, Aggie,” Murdoch smiled.
The two Lancers stood facing one another until the sound of the
front door opening and closing signaled the departure of the
“Nothing. Aggie
saw Johnny and me on the front porch.” Murdoch raised his chin, and drew in a
deep breath.
“So she saw you. Did she hear anything? What did you tell her?”
Scott pressed the point, unwilling to allow Murdoch to escape the question.
“I simply told her he had a slight fever.” At Scott’s raised
eyebrows, Murdoch added, “Its close to the truth, Scott. I would never betray
your brother’s confidence.”
“I just don’t want to give Buck Addison any room for
speculation.” Scott felt deflated, the adrenaline that had been fueling him
suddenly dissipating.
“Nor do I. But right now Johnny needs
us and we should concentrate on how we can help him.” Murdoch wearily rubbed
his face then squared his shoulders and headed upstairs.
*
Johnny yawned and rolled over to face his window. Though it was
yet early, the first sliver of dawn had fingered its way over the far
mountains. Slim shafts of light crept across the land as the sun awoke from her
night’s slumber. Feeling more at peace than he had in the last few days, Johnny
threw back the covers and sat on the edge of his bed. The hardwood flooring was
cool to his feet and he pressed his soles into the planks, delaying rising and
dressing as long as possible. He was reluctant to start this day after the
tension and uncertainty of the past week.
Slowly, he rose to his feet and walked to the wash basin to
begin his morning ritual. A ritual he now had to stop and think about. He shook
his head, a frown forming on his face. Everything seemed so difficult. From
washing his face to shaving to getting dressed – it all seemed too much of an
effort. He leaned his hands on the dresser and lowered his head.
Come on, Lancer. Pull yourself together! This is crazy. He
snorted at that. Yeah, it was crazy alright. Maybe, he really *was* crazy.
Seeing dead people was a sure sign, right? Not only seeing them but talking to
them, dancing with them. Dancing with her again.
Goosebumps erupted on his skin and he shivered violently.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, drawing on his reserves
to shake this nonsense and get on with living his life. Just
get on with the day; one that promised to be pretty strained if Murdoch’s face
last night was any indication. He reckoned the old man was ready to lock
him up somewhere. He wasn’t so sure that was a bad idea.
With some regret, Johnny stood up straight and pulled his
shoulders back, resolute to get himself washed, shaved and dressed,
and downstairs on time. Just like any other day.
*
In the kitchen, he found his father and brother at the table
and his shoulders tensed slightly. He settled in his chair and poured a cup of
coffee.
“Breakfast is almost ready. I was about to come check in and
see how you are this morning.” Murdoch’s words were delivered cautiously as if
he were speaking to a skittish young colt.
“You mean you wanted to see if the patient has lost his mind.”
He waited with bated breath, expecting condemnation, disapproval.
Instead he saw only love and concern in the big man’s eyes. “No, son. That’s not what I meant at all. I think you’ve
just been working too hard.” Murdoch leaned in closer, his hand raised in
appeal. “Why don’t you take it easy for a few days? Stay close to the house.
Sam says...”
“Sam? You called Sam?” Johnny knew his anger was unfounded,
actually he remembered Sam's presence at the party the night before, yet he
felt powerless to stop the flow of words now as he berated his father. “I’m not
a child and I am not crazy!” Even as he declared his competence, he knew his
behavior was providing evidence to the contrary.
Murdoch’s eyes flittered to Scott for a second before going
back to hold the intense gaze of his younger son. “Johnny, I’m not judging you.
No one is. We’re just concerned.”
“I know, Murdoch. I know.” Johnny admitted wearily. “I am,
too.”
“We’ll get it sorted out, brother,” Scott said, his tone gentle
and supportive. “We just need to figure out how and why this started. I think
…” he didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as Cipriano burst through the
kitchen door.
*
“Patron, the cattle have broken through the east corral fence.
They are scattered again.”
Murdoch slammed his hand on the table. “How did it happen?”
“I am not sure, Senor. It looks as if the wire was cut down,”
Cipriano answered.
“I’ll see about it, Sir,” Scott said even as he stood and
dropped his napkin on his plate. “I’ll let you know if I need any help.”
“Alright, son. Thank
you, Cip.”
The segundo nodded then headed out the door as Scott paused
briefly. “We’ll talk later, brother.”
“Yeah, sure. Go
ahead, I’m fine.” Johnny hoped he sounded easygoing as he took a sip of coffee.
“Son, take it easy today.”
“Murdoch, I don’t need to take it easy. Work will help me keep
my mind off whatever is going on. I need to be doin something. Think I’ll head
out to Myer’s
Murdoch stood in the hallway watching Johnny strap on his
gunbelt. “I want you to come get me if you … see anything else.”
With a smirk, Johnny looked up at him. “You mean if I see anymore
ghosts?” He sighed and shook his head. “I’ll see ya,” he muttered as he grabbed
his hat and walked outside.
*
Johnny had a small herd together by
"That makes the count right. We got them all back,"
Scott notified him.
"That's good. Didn't take too long
either. Did you find the problem?" Johnny's eyes were on the
cattle; he couldn’t bring himself to meet Scott’s concerned gaze.
"Cip was right. The fence was definitely cut on purpose. I
guess that means we have a bigger problem now."
Johnny sighed and nodded his head. "Best leave a couple of
the boys out here tonight, then."
"I've already assigned Tim and Walt. So, are we just going
to ignore it, brother?"
Looking over, Johnny's eyes drilled Scott's. "You really
want to talk about that right now, Scott? In front of God and
everyone?"
Scott dipped his eyes for a second before looking back. "No, of course not. But, we do need to talk, Johnny.
It's not going to go away just because you want it to."
"How do you know? Might be exactly what happens. Anyway,
I'm headin to that creek bed back a ways. It's dammed up again."
Cocking his head to one side, Scott frowned. "I just
cleared that last week."
Johnny shrugged. "I know but that doesn't mean it's not dammed. Maybe,
that was on purpose, too."
"I'll go with you. If someone is doing this, they might
not be satisfied with property damage."
A smile lit Johnny's face and he shook his head. "You need
to finish your own job. I can watch out for myself." Seeing the disbelief
on Scott's face and knowing exactly what his brother was thinking, Johnny
scowled. "I'm fine, Scott. We can't drop everything because I'm acting
stupid. If you get back before I do, tell Murdoch about that creek." He
didn't wait for an answer and took off back the way he'd come.
*
Johnny attacked the creek with a vengeance, wondering who was
doing this and why. He knew Scott had just been out here last week which is why
it had surprised and angered him to see the debris. It didn't take a genius to
see it was done intentionally. It was piled high, all in one spot, not
scattered like normal. They hadn't had any problems with anyone lately. No
neighbors feuding with them so, it didn't make much sense. Unless,
of course, they were looking at another Pardee situation. Johnny hoped
not. He wasn't in the mood for a range war.
He chuckled a little at the thought. When had he ever been in
the mood for a range war? Maybe, at one time in his life, he would have been
looking for one but, he could honestly say he never had looked forward to them.
As the sun descended, casting his shadow long on the earth, he
finished the chore and silently dared anyone to do it again. A smirk came
across his face. He walked over to Barranca and pulled out his extra shirt,
wiping down his exposed chest and trying to dry himself off a little. The cool
breeze was giving him goose bumps then, he stopped suddenly, feeling a presence
near him.
Johnny drew his gun and searched the area all around him. He
could see no one but he felt eyes on him. Something unfamiliar settled in his
chest. A feeling he'd had a few times this past week yet, somehow, it was ...
more, now. Fear. His heart raced and his breathing
became erratic. Johnny swung into the saddle, the Colt still in his hand as he
pressed his spurs to Barranca. He raced toward home, the feeling unwilling to
leave him, wrapping around him like a shroud.
As he grew closer to the house now in his sight, the fear
abated and a new feeling enveloped him. Disgust. He
hated being afraid, always had and he tried to never show it. But, this was
different. It was so much more intense than he'd ever known and he didn't know
what to do with it. He hated every second of it and hated himself for letting
it fuel him. By the time he rode into the yard, he was livid with himself.
Dismounting, he led Barranca into the barn and removed his tack
then started brushing the palomino down, letting the repetitive motion soothe
his jangled nerves. Slowly, he began to settle and feel more like himself. He
gave Barranca a pat on the neck and a soft goodnight after filling his feed and
making sure he had water. He stepped out of the stall and the hairs on the back
of his neck went up.
Angry, Johnny stood rigid as he waited to see if anyone would
appear. Frustration quickly won out and he stepped into the middle of the barn,
calling out loudly, "who's there?"
There was no answer, no sound other than a soft snort from his own horse. Johnny frowned as he just realized Remmie was
not in his stall. That meant Scott wasn't home yet and he should be. Should have beaten him back by an hour. Could be nothing or,
maybe he had come back then left again. Some errand for the
old man. He turned to head for the house, intent on asking his father
when he heard a rustling noise to his left, near the back of the building.
Once more he called out and again, there was no answer. At first. Johnny shook his head and took another step toward
the door.
"Juanito."
Whirling around, he stared into the dark, straining to hear
more. "Who's there? Show yourself? Are you a coward?" No, Johnny,
boy, you are. Look at you, your hands are shaking, you’re sweating. How
sickening is that? The thought flowed through his head even as he was backing
toward the door, his eyes locked on that corner. He was almost to the doors
when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.
*
Turning quickly, Johnny found his gun in his own hand and aimed
at his father's chest.
"Johnny!" Murdoch gasped, stunned at the reaction
he'd gotten. He lowered his voice substantially. "It's me, son. It's only
me."
Taking a few deep breaths, Johnny holstered the gun and slumped his shoulders, running a hand through his hair as he
lowered his head. "Sorry," he finally breathed out. "Thought I heard something."
Murdoch stepped further into the barn. "Where?"
Johnny pointed to the corner and Murdoch marched over, leaning
over the hay bales and even pushing a few aside to get a good look. There was
nothing, no one there and the older man closed his eyes briefly before raising
his head and staring at the back door. Maybe, the boy really was ... no, he
didn't want to think that; refused to think it.
He didn't have to ask, Johnny knew his father would find
nothing because there was nothing to find. He leaned his head back against the
door jamb. "Scott not back?"
Murdoch turned, seemingly having forgotten his son was waiting
for him. "No, I, uh, I sent him on an errand. He should be back
soon."
Johnny stood straight and nodded. "Did he tell you about
the creek?"
"He did."
Johnny looked hard at his father and sighed. "You sent him
for Sam."
Murdoch walked back over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Yes, son, I did. We need to figure this out. It's not getting any better."
Hanging his head, Johnny couldn't argue that. He wasn't about
to tell his father he'd run home like a scared little kid, though. "Can we
get out of here now?"
"Of course, son." Murdoch
moved to wrap an arm around Johnny's shoulders and walked him out of the barn.
They had just stepped onto the front porch when Murdoch jerked and fell.
*
Johnny hit the tiles, the force of his father's fall driving
him down, too. He rolled to his side and saw Murdoch wasn't moving. Quickly, he
moved to grab his father and pull him behind the wall. More shots rang out,
plowing into the adobe just as Johnny disappeared behind it.
He eased his father onto his side, seeing the blood on the
man's right shoulder. Johnny clamped a hand over the wound and leaned his head
back, listening as the shots kept coming. Rifles, he thought idly. His hand
went to his own side then stopped midway there. Images of pulling that gun out
by the creek then again, in the barn; of aiming that gun at his own father,
assailed him and Johnny found he couldn't move. Once again, his heart raced,
pounding in his ears and he felt like he couldn't get a decent breath. He was
dizzy and he closed his eyes.
Suddenly, the rifle shots sounded closer and Johnny hunkered
over his father's body, trying to protect him. Yet, he was still unable to draw
his weapon, to fight back. He knew he was trembling all over but he couldn't
stop himself. He couldn't stop anything. He couldn't even move now. But he
could hear and it seemed as if there were more guns now, more firing. The shots
weren't hitting the wall anymore. Thank God, he thought. But, he still couldn't
move. All he could do was lay across his father and pray it would just stop.
Then, it was quiet. Too quiet. He
dared not even twitch, afraid they'd see it and think
him still alive. Yes, they thought he was dead, that they were both dead.
That's why they stopped firing. Maybe, they'll just go away. He convinced
himself that was how things were so, when he felt a hand on his back, he
jerked, straightening up and looking wild-eyed at the man.
Scott knelt beside his family, a knot as big as
*
Scott stood before the large picture window behind Murdoch’s
desk, a glass of brandy warming in his hand. There was no sound in the great
room save the incessant ticking of the grandfather clock. Scott knew Johnny was
on the sofa, equally as miserable as he was but he could not bring himself to
look at his brother. Not yet. The look in the blue eyes earlier had seared
through his mind, as if permanently affixed into his memory.
He had shoved Johnny aside and seen to the effort of carrying
Murdoch to his room, taking charge until Teresa and Maria had come to aid Sam.
Now the three of them were upstairs tending to the Lancer patriarch. It had
been an hour and still no word had been forthcoming. With every minute that
passed Scott battled two fears, that he was losing his father and that he had
already lost his brother. For he feared the latter was now a reality.
The panic in Johnny’s eyes had shaken Scott to the core. He had
expected worry and fear for their father but not the terror resulting from
finding himself under attack. Johnny had instinctively covered Murdoch’s body
with his own, saving him from further harm and yet had made no move to defend
his father or himself. The man who had startled at Scott’s touch was a
stranger, not the man Scott had grown to know and love.
What had happened to Johnny Madrid Lancer? The
tough as nails, icy cold gunhawk of such reputation as to be known throughout
the southwest? Where was the man who had taken on Pardee and his
henchman Coley? To all intents and purposes that man was gone. But was he
lurking somewhere now in Johnny’s twisted mind? Scott’s head began to throb,
the pain a result of tension and worry. He rubbed his temples and resigned
himself to dealing with one issue at a time. And now was as good a time as any
to pose at least one of the questions besieging him.
Resolving to confront Johnny with patience and care, Scott
strode to the sofa and looked down on his brother. “Want to tell me what
happened?” His voice was soft but firm and he stood looking at his brother
expectantly.
“You were there, Scott. We were under fire and I covered
Murdoch.” Johnny sounded defensive. He ran a hand through his thick black hair
but made no other move.
“You know what I mean, brother.”
“No, no, I don’t.” Johnny stood then and made to move away. He
stopped as Scott grabbed his arm.
“You didn’t even draw your gun, Johnny. Why? Why would you just
sit there and let those men overrun your position?” Scott’s grip tightened as
he fought down anger. “You could have been killed and so could Murdoch. You
didn’t even try to fight back. Why?”
“Back off, Scott. I had
no time and I don’t have to answer to you!” Johnny jerked his arm out of
Scott’s grasp and took a step backward.
“What is happening to you?” Some of the anger escaped Scott’s
control and the words were out before he could stop himself. “If I had to
hazard a guess, I would say you were scared.”
Johnny recoiled as if he had been slapped and Scott found
himself holding his breath. He stood almost hoping Johnny would make some move
of aggression but instead he was strangely disappointed as his brother slumped
to the sofa. With a heavy sigh, Johnny buried his face in his hands and took a
shuddering breath.
“Johnny…” But Scott’s words were caught in his throat as Sam
entered the room.
Johnny looked up but made no effort to rise, fear etched
plainly on his face. Oddly disgusted with his brother, Scott moved to face Sam.
“How is he?”
“The wound is not life-threatening, but he lost a lot of blood.
He’ll have to be watched for fever or complications but with bed rest, and
peace and quiet he should make a full recovery.” Sam motioned toward the liquor
cabinet. “Pour me a drink, Scott. I think I’m going to have a seat and talk to
your brother here.”
Sam sat down next to Johnny. “So, young man, what’s going on
with you? And don’t say you’re okay. I only needed one look at you to know
better.”
“I don’t know, Sam. I just don’t know.” Johnny whispered
miserably. “I keep asking myself that same question and I can’t find any
answers.”
“How are you physically? Are you suffering from any headaches? Anything out of the normal?” Sam went through his standard
line of questioning, growing more and more concerned with each negative reply.
“Are you sleeping alright?”
“Yeah, sleeping fine.” Johnny
muttered. “It’s not my sleep that’s the problem, it’s
when I’m awake. I keep seeing things. Her.”
“Listen, is there any significance to
the timing? Her birthday, anything like that?” Johnny
shook his head. Tentatively, Sam asked the question he was sure would provoke
the most violent reaction. “Is it by chance, the anniversary of your mother’s
death?”
Scott jerked upright, the question shocking him out of his
silence. “Sam!”
“Easy, Scott, it’s possible for an event like that to result in
odd behavior, especially in one who has never fully faced the trauma of
someone’s passing. It’s a fair question and it may help me to diagnose your
brother’s illness.” Sam explained in a clinical tone, his attention momentarily
off Johnny and firmly fixed on the older Lancer son.
“No,” Johnny answered, interrupting the discourse between the
doctor and his brother. “It isn’t her birthday or death or anything. It’s just
me. I’m finally paying for all the blood on my hands.” With that Johnny left
the room, hurrying upstairs.
Scott moved to follow his brother but was stopped by Sam’s
voice. “Let him go, Scott. He needs some time.”
Slowly, Scott turned back to his family physician. “Is he
losing his mind, Sam? Is he going crazy?”
*
The room was dimly lit, only a candle on the table beside the
bed. Teresa sat, her face cloaked in shadows. She turned her head as the door
slowly opened. Even in the faint light she could sense Johnny’s unease, his
tension. She went to the young man, her hand closed gently on his as she pulled
him further into the room.
Keeping her voice low, she asked, “Would you sit with him for a
while? I’ll make some coffee.”
Johnny nodded, his eyes never leaving the figure lying in the
bed. “I’d like that, Teresa,” he agreed, his softly spoken words conveying his
gratitude. “Take your time, okay?”
Teresa gave his hand a gentle squeeze then left the room,
closing the door quietly behind her.
Johnny pulled the chair that Teresa had vacated closer to the
bed and sat heavily. His elbows rested on his knees and his head hung
despondently. He sat there for a long time not allowing thought to enter his
mind, unable to bear thinking about what was happening. But, he had to and he
needed to make his father understand if he could.
With a shudder he turned sorrow filled eyes to his father. “I’m
sorry, Murdoch. It’s all my fault. I should have been
watching out for you.” A single tear spilled down his cheek and he wiped it
angrily away.
“It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been a
gunfighter, if I had turned out better, this wouldn’t be happening. I think I’m
cursed and my past has come back to haunt me. I was always faster, always
luckier. I could out talk them or out draw them. I thought I was so damned
clever but this time I can’t beat the odds. This time I just know death is
gonna win and I’m gonna have to face all the demons in my past. I just wish I
had realized this sooner. I could have spared you the pain …” Johnny’s voice
broke and he choked back a sob, swallowing convulsively.
“She’s haunting me because she knows I’m gonna be joining her
soon. I can’t fight it, Murdoch. It’s my time and I have to accept it. I won’t
even be able to defend myself. What’s the point? Even if I out gun whoever
comes for me, I lose anyway. I just wanted you to know that it’s okay. I’ll be
okay and I thank you for giving me a shot at the best thing that ever happened
in my life. It’s just too late, Murdoch. Much too late.
Take care of Scott and when she comes for me again, be
strong enough to let me go. Promise you’ll let me go.”
“Go where?”
Johnny jerked to his feet, turning toward Teresa. She stood
with her head tilted to one side, gazing at him curiously.
“No where, Teresa. I’m just turning in, that’s all.” Johnny
pushed past her and left the room, closing the door on a bewildered young
woman. Uneasily, Teresa sat the tray on the bedside table, an ominous feeling
of foreboding rising up in her chest.
*
Johnny stayed away from the house the next day, returning only
when he was sure he wouldn’t run into his brother. He knew Scott thought he was
a coward and, he supposed he was. But, he wasn’t so far gone yet that he
couldn’t still function, still think about what was happening at the ranch, no
matter he hadn’t slept a wink all night.
Someone had cut that fence line and dammed that stream. Someone
had shot his father down but was that who they were aiming for? Someone was out
for vengeance. Was it against him or all of them? He didn’t know and, he wasn’t
sure he’d have time to find out.
She was still watching him. He had felt her out there today,
spying on him from the trees again. Why didn’t she just show herself? Maybe
because it wasn’t time to go, just yet. He’d thought about trying to go after
her again but, how do you catch a ghost?
His hand faltered as he brushed Barranca down. Lowering his
head, he closed his eyes and thought back to his childhood. Ghosts,
spirits, evil beings. He’d grown up on the stories, the lore. The people
in every village they lived in all seemed to believe basically the same thing.
All of them had been so reverent when speaking in their whispers, not daring to
voice aloud their fears and superstitions.
When he was very young, the stories scared him. As he got older
and more cynical, he scoffed at them. He refused to believe in it but, maybe he
should have. Maybe, now, those stories were becoming reality. Maybe, after all
this time, his misdeeds were catching up to him.
It made perfect sense to him. He finally had something worth
caring about. Before, when he was alone, there was nothing of value in his
life. Now that there was, he wasn’t being allowed it. Penance for his sins, he
supposed.
He sighed and stored away the grooming supplies then left the
barn, circling around to the kitchen door. He still couldn’t face the
accusations from his brother. Mostly, because they were true.
*
Johnny eased the bedroom door open and was a little surprised
no one was sitting with Murdoch. He stepped lightly into the room and settled
in the bedside chair, leaning over a little. Picking up his father’s hand in
his own, he studied the appendage, tracing the knuckles before gently turning
that hand and searching the lines, noting how they curved then came to an end.
A sigh escaped his lips as he looked upon the face of his
father. Usually such a hard and stern face, it was now softened with sleep.
There was no sign of pain and Johnny was grateful for that. His father had
suffered enough because of him over the years, no matter whose fault. Without
thought, he reached out and caressed the man’s forehead then clenched his eyes
shut for a second.
Suddenly, his eyes flew open as he felt the cool wind. He
looked to the window, rising slowly from the chair and staring in apprehension.
Gut turned upside down, Johnny started toward the opening when a voice stopped
him cold.
“There’s nothing there. It’s just the wind.”
He whirled around to find Scott sitting in a dark corner of the
room watching him. “Wha ..” he stopped and lowered his
voice substantially as he remembered where he was. In a whisper, he started
again. “What the hell are you doing? Spying on me?”
Scott stood slowly and walked over to him. “I was watching
Murdoch. I didn’t want to disturb your late night visit. Look at you, Johnny.
You’re sweating, you’re shaking. What the hell is going on?”
Johnny took in the tight, lined face, the clenched teeth and
the fire in his brother’s eyes and, he deflated. Shoulders slumping, he could
only drop his eyes, shake his head and walk out of the room.
Scott stared after him for a beat before glancing at Murdoch
then following his brother into the hallway. He found Johnny leaning against
the wall, taking deep breaths. “Did you think your mother was there?”
He didn’t move or acknowledge the question at all. Johnny slid
along the wall toward his own room until he was stopped by an iron grip.
“You are not a coward, Johnny. I’ve seen you take more risks
with your life than I care to think about. Whatever this thing is, it’s
destroying you from the inside. Get some help, brother. I need you now. Murdoch
needs you now.”
Taking in a stuttering breath, Johnny raised his head but he
never looked at Scott. “You’d better not count on me, brother. I’m sorry, but,
I’m not gonna be any good to anyone anymore.” With that, he resumed his slow
retreat to his room.
*
Scott spent a sleepless night worrying over his family. As the
dawn finally broke, he decided to head downstairs and feed his protesting
stomach. Murdoch had slept through the night and appeared to be pain free. He
supposed he should be grateful for that much. His father would recover, Sam had
said, but it would take some time. Time Scott didn't think they had. Things
were heating up now with this direct assault on the head of the household.
Still, he couldn't help wondering if it was aimed at Murdoch or Johnny.
Johnny. The words he'd spoken last night haunted Scott. He needed
his brother's help now more than ever and all of a sudden, Johnny says 'don't
count on me'? He'd been stunned speechless and still was, quite frankly. He
also didn't believe it. Johnny was going through something ... irrational. He
shook his head and thought he'd work that one out a little later. Right now, he
was starving.
He passed Teresa in the kitchen doorway and gave her an update
on Murdoch. He couldn't help noticing the tension in her face but, he assumed
it was from the threat they were under.
“What’s happening, Scott? Johnny
was not himself last night.” Teresa related the whispered confession she had
overheard the night before, making certain to keep the strange words in the
proper context. Well as proper as she could. She had never witnessed such a
display of self-condemnation in the ex-gunfighter before and it terrified her.
Scott listened, his expression growing ever grimmer with each
word. Finally he shook his head, he wished he could reassure the girl that
Johnny would be alright but he knew there was nothing he could say that
wouldn't sound patronizing. As for the attacks on the ranch, well Teresa had
been through this before and Scott had every confidence in her ability to deal
with it. He kissed the top of her head before heading down the hall.
As he took a quick look around the kitchen, Scott wasn't
surprised to see his brother missing. "Maria, have you seen Johnny?"
"Si, he was here early and has gone. He said he needed to
get to work."
Scott nodded, seeing the sadness on the woman's face and
knowing it was for Johnny. Another person he couldn't reassure, he thought
glumly as he sat at the table and started his meal.
*
Deciding to check in with Cipriano, Scott left the house after
eating and headed toward the corral where the Segundo stood talking to two
hands. He surveyed the landscape, not knowing exactly what he was searching for
but, hoping he was ready for anything. He spied the guards around the perimeter
and at the arch. When he reached the corral, he turned to see two more men on
the roof. Satisfied as he could be, Scott turned his attention to Cipriano.
It wasn't the first thing he'd intended to ask, nevertheless,
the words spilled out. "Where is Johnny working?"
"He said he was going to ride the land, Senor. He wanted
to see if there had been any further attacks." After a brief hesitation,
Cip went on. "Do you know who is doing this?"
"Not a clue, I'm afraid." Scott took in a deep breath
then, the surrey caught his eye as it made its way
down the road. "I'm going to need your help, Cipriano. I need you to take
care of the day to day for a little while longer. With Murdoch down and Johnny
..." he paused, glancing quickly at the man, "we need someone we can
count on."
"Of course, Senor. All of
the men are loyal to Lancer. We will be ready when you need us to fight, as
well."
Smiling a little, Scott patted the man's shoulder as the surrey
came to a stop near the house. "Thank you, and thank the men for me, Cip.
Excuse me." He walked toward the visitors, more than a little curious. As
he stepped up to the side of the surrey, he reached out to help her down,
easily seeing the concern on her face.
"Scott, we heard about Murdoch. How is he?"
"He's doing alright, Aggie. He's resting now. Sam said it
wasn't life-threatening but he'll be out of commission for a while."
"Any idea who did it?" Buck
asked as he rounded the surrey and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist.
"We're still working on that. Please, come on in and have
some coffee." He led the way into the house but as he bade them sit, Aggie
hesitated.
"I was hoping to see Murdoch, if he's up to
visitors."
Scott raised a brow at that and saw something more in Buck's
face. Disapproval and ... something he couldn't quite name. "Well, I'll
check with Teresa. Please, sit. I'll be right back."
*
Murdoch was awake and happy to see Aggie. Scott led them to the
room, sure his father hadn't meant to extend the
invitation to her husband. They got on much better these days but, there would
always be a rivalry between Murdoch and Buck. He left them to it, unwilling to
witness the posturing between the two men and certain Teresa would not allow
"Sam, I'm glad you're here."
Sam tensed and looked at the stairs. "Is it Murdoch?"
"No, he's doing alright. Aggie and Buck Addison are with
him, Teresa, too. It's Johnny I want to talk to you about. Please, come into
the living room."
Sam saw the worry on the young man's face, heard it in his
voice as he followed Scott. He couldn't blame him, he
was worried about Johnny, too. He hadn't had a chance to really talk with
Johnny with everything else happening. He'd hoped to accomplish that today.
"Is he here?"
"No," Scott sighed out. "He's out riding the
range, looking for anymore problems. Sam, I'm really worried about him."
As they sat, Scott relayed what he'd witnessed when Murdoch was shot, his
conversation with Teresa and what Johnny had said to him last night.
Sam kept a frown on his face during the telling. He said
nothing when Scott finished.
"What could cause this, Sam? Is there some medical reason
for Johnny to think he's seeing his dead mother?"
"There could be, Scott. And it could be a lot of things,
too. I really need to examine him to tell. I'd need to test his blood, see if
he's gotten into anything toxic or maybe there's an imbalance in his system. It
could well be ..."
Scott stopped listening as the thought struck him hard. Why
hadn't he realized it sooner? Could it really be? Someone was after the
Lancers. Someone who would profit by incapacitating Johnny.
Had that been what the shooting was about? Testing him to see how he'd react? To see if their scheme would work? It was quite a
complicated ploy, to be sure. Who could come up with such an idea? And why?
Or, was it as simple as some malady Sam could fix with his
medicines? Johnny did not react this way to danger. Scott knew that as well as
he knew his own name. His brother didn't buy into ghosts, either. They’d talked
about it before a couple of times and Johnny always scoffed at such things. Why
was he not scoffing now? Why was he being so
accepting of this?
He didn't think Johnny was sick, though. With
everything he knew of his brother, Scott was more and more convinced someone
was trying to drive Johnny mad. Keep him so unsettled, so ... so scared, that
he couldn't function. Scott's head jerked up when he felt the hand on his arm.
He blinked and focused on Sam who was standing over him now, staring oddly at
him.
"I'm sorry, Sam. I was just thinking
everything through. Maybe you should check on Murdoch now." He stood,
hoping to avoid admitting he hadn't heard much of what the doctor had said when
the
*
Footsteps in the hallway had heralded the approach
of Aggie and Buck Addison and Aggie’s sharp tone announced her displeasure with
her spouse. With a flourish she swept into the room, her eyes flashing as if
challenging Sam or Scott to align themselves with her
husband.
Buck followed stiffly, his jaw clenched tightly. He
forced himself to relax, taking in a deep breath before moving to his wife’s
side. “I am sure the Lancers do not need a parade of well wishers disturbing
Murdoch’s rest.”
“I would hardly refer to it as a disturbance. Besides it’s what
good neighbors do, Buck. Why do you have such difficulties with it?” Aggie
placed her hands on her hips and thrust out her jaw belligerently.
”Difficulties with what, Aggie?” Scott’s interest was
piqued despite his distraction of mere moments ago. His gaze swept from her to
Buck Addison and back again as she replied to his question.
“I intend to bring over a home cooked meal tomorrow for
Murdoch.” Aggie sent a scathing look in the direction of her husband. Instead
of seeming contrite, a flash of something unknown flickered in his eyes.
Aggie stood, her back straight, her lips pursed in a familiar
expression of determination. “And apparently Buck here is unaware of the
concept of being neighborly.”
Buck reacted to the accusation with a wave of his hand, his
movements precise and controlled.
To Scott’s observant gaze, he looked decidedly annoyed. No, not
annoyed, he looked angry. Angry and resentful. But
nonetheless, he stood possessively beside his wife, teetering on the edge
between argument and concession.
“Now, Aggie, I simply pointed out that the Lancers have a good
cook and Teresa helps out. They don’t need your charity.” Buck sounded stiff,
not at all apologetic and again Scott noticed a slight inflection in his tone. As if the man was struggling to conceal the true motivation for his
disapproval of his wife’s offer.
Scott stared blatantly now at Buck Addison, watching for any
tell-tale reaction, any emotion regardless of how fleeting, that would define
the man’s words and reveal the true nature of his objections to Aggie’s
generosity.
Recovering quickly, Buck displayed none of his earlier anger,
the gentleman coming to the fore. His face was strangely impassive, as removed
now from the situation as a card player in a hand of poker. Still, Scott knew
the man was disguising his true motive.
While it was no secret in the community that Aggie had carried
a torch for Murdoch and he had cared deeply for her, their relationship had
never gone further than the deepest friendship. Yet, Buck Addison had been
overwhelmed with jealousy. His interaction with Murdoch Lancer had even come to
blows on one occasion. Now there existed the most tolerant animosity.
Buck and Murdoch now engaged in a civil, if chilly peace. They
moved cautiously around each other, reserving all conversations, indeed all
contact, to the most basic discussions on ranching. Nothing personal was ever
breached by either man and nothing at all was discussed as it pertained to
Aggie.
“Look, honey, if it makes you happy, we’ll come back tomorrow
and lend a helping hand,” Buck soothed, his voice silky. “If it’s alright with
Scott, that is.” Buck, his features deliberately smoothed into an emotionless
mask, directed this last at the young Lancer son. But what Buck’s face
concealed, his eyes could not.
Scott could see it plainly, swimming just below the surface,
the familiar green-eyed monster that had plagued mankind from the beginning of
time. Buck Addison’s angry jealousy lived still, as passionate and full of hate
as it had been since he relocated to this valley. Scott allowed the revelation
to curl his lips slightly upward and was rewarded when Buck abruptly averted
his eyes.
“Of course, Aggie. I’m
certain Murdoch would enjoy your company.” He smothered a smile, sensing yet
not seeing
“Well then, it’s settled. Buck, let’s get going. I have a lot of
preparations to make.” Aggie pulled on her gloves and smiled at Scott and Sam,
her satisfaction with her victory showing in her sparkling eyes.
“Gentlemen,” Buck nodded stiffly. He put a hand on his wife’s
elbow and steered her to the front door, Scott and Sam following behind.
As the door closed behind them Scott moved to the buggy and
offered Aggie a hand up. Buck flashed a look of annoyance at Scott’s
interference but made no comment.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Scott,” Aggie reminded him.
“Sure, Aggie. We look
forward to it.” Scott stepped back as Buck turned the horses and swept out of
the yard. Long moments after the buggy carrying the
Sam was first to break the silence that weighed between them.
“You want to tell me what that was all about, young man?” he asked gruffly.
Scott sighed heavily. “There’s a lot more to the happenings
here on the ranch than I had first thought.”
He turned to face the doctor. “And a lot more going on
with Johnny, too. We have to help him, Sam, before it’s too late.”
“I know, son, and we will,” Sam agreed.
“My father survived the shooting yesterday but I have a feeling
Johnny is in far more danger than Murdoch was. We have to get to the bottom of this.”
Sam nodded his head thoughtfully. “Do you know where Johnny is
working?”
“He’s probably on the north ridge.” Scott placed his hands on
his hips. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Not yet, but we’ll figure it out. And we have to do so fast,
before I have another patient that I might not be able to cure.”
“Can you stay here, Sam? I’m going to bring Johnny home.”
Sam nodded, “I’ll just help myself to a drink.” But he was
talking to empty air; Scott had already entered the barn. A few minutes later,
Scott led his bay out and mounted up. Turning his horse north, he disappeared
in a cloud of dust.
*
As he mounted the rise above the north pasture, Scott pulled up
and stood in the stirrups. He shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare and swept
his gaze over the lush meadow. The day was glorious, the sun was shining
brightly but a stiff breeze blew from the northern mountains, its cool
undercurrents full of the promise of autumn. In the meadow below, Scott could
see Johnny’s palomino ground tied and grazing peacefully. There was, however,
no sign of his brother.
Scott shook off the growing anxiety that had plagued him since
the departure of the Addison’s and slowly pressed his horse down the gently
sloping knoll, his eyes darting back and forth as he searched for Johnny.
Barranca raised his head and nickered a greeting but Johnny
still was not to be seen. Cautiously, Scott approached. His brother had not
been himself the last couple of weeks and there was no way to anticipate his
reaction, should Scott come upon him unannounced.
Scott pulled the bay to a halt beside the golden stallion and
dismounted. He loosened the cinch and the bay lowered his head, pulling a
mouthful of the rich grass.
“Johnny?” Scott called softly. “Johnny? Hey, brother, I brought
lunch.”
“You make a lot of noise, you know,
“Well, most men would say it won’t catch fish either but I seem
to remember you trying.” Scott’s teasing tone was met with a smile and he
relaxed. “Let's pull up a seat and have some lunch
then we need to head in. Sam wants to talk with you.”
Instantly alerted, Johnny tensed. “Is it Murdoch? Has he gotten
worse?”
“No, Murdoch is fine.”
Scott knew Johnny would deny that even Sam could help him, so convinced
was he that he was doomed to meet his fate with the help of his dead mother.
Scott said smoothly, “its nothing like that but, he said I should come find
you.”
“If Murdoch is okay, why does Sam want to see me?”
“He wants to discuss Murdoch’s care, you know avoiding stress
and all.” The small lie fell gracefully off Scott’s tongue but he resisted the
urge to feel guilty about his deception. He would do whatever it took to help
his brother.
Johnny visibly relaxed and plopped down under one of the nearby
trees. “Okay, then.”
He sounded spent and Scott hazarded a good look at him.
Johnny’s young features were drawn and tired, small lines creasing his mouth
and around the corners of his eyes. He looked like a man with the weight of the
world on his shoulders, and that weight was slowly draining him of all energy,
and his very will to live. Fear clutched Scott’s heart as he recognized the
grip of death on Johnny’s face. A death that was not meant to
be. His brother had accepted fate’s hand and was willingly succumbing to
its embrace.
More determined than ever, Scott sat down beside his brother
and passed out the food.
*
Once they'd eaten, Scott packed away the remnants as Johnny
retrieved Barranca. Tightening Remmie's cinch, Scott glanced over at his
brother. "What were you doing out here, anyway?"
"Layin low, tryin to see if anyone was doing something
they shouldn't be."
As they both mounted up, Scott's face fell serious. "I
have an idea of who is doing this."
That got Johnny's attention and he stilled his palomino's
prancing. "Spill it."
Raising a brow at the harsh tone, Scott considered his words
carefully even as he pressed Remmie into a walk. Johnny fell in beside him and
Scott knew he was impatiently waiting. "The
Johnny sighed heavily and looked at the sky. "Yeah, I can
see how the strong desire to cook a meal would push her into shootin the old
man."
Scott's lips quirked then he shook his head. "It wasn't
her reaction that was odd, it was Buck's. He was trying very hard not to show
it but, the man is so jealous, he could spit. Angry, too, that she's so
attentive to Murdoch."
"Not much reason for all that's happenin, Scott. I mean,
"No, he isn't but, he might be afraid of Aggie's reaction.
If he went at it with Murdoch again, Aggie wouldn't stand for that."
Johnny drew his brows together in thought. "She made her
choice and Murdoch accepted that - fool that he was."
"The question is, does Buck
believe it enough to let bygones be bygones. I don't think he has. Besides,
he's always wanted Lancer. We both know that. He got the
"Don't reckon Murdoch would marry him."
"Johnny, this is serious!"
Barranca came to a stop quickly and Scott reined in then turned
around a bit in the saddle to look at his brother. He didn't much like the fire
in those eyes.
"Thanks, Scott. I didn't realize this was serious. Here I
thought it was just a prank! No need to worry about our father with a bullet in
him, our fences cut and the cattle scattered from here to
Scott's shoulders slumped as he let out a breath. "Okay,
Johnny. I know you know it's serious. I'm just not in the mood to joke about
it."
"Sometimes, brother, jokin about a thing is all that keeps
you sane." Johnny's face was flat as he spoke then,
he spurred Barranca into a lope, leaving his brother to stare at his back for a
second.
“Dammit,” Scott muttered before spurring the bay after the
palomino. Scott caught up and matched Barranca's stride. He waited to see if
Johnny was going to speak to him. They had to hash this out and it was better
to do it before they got home. He was relieved when Johnny spoke.
"So,
Scott shrugged. "He doesn't think so. You know he's an
arrogant bastard. And really, all we have to go on is my suspicions. What I saw
in his face today wasn't an illusion, though. And, I think he knows I saw
something, too."
Johnny looked over at him briefly. "What do you want to do
about it?"
As they reached the yard, Scott considered that question.
"I'm not sure. Why don't you take the horses to the barn and I'll let Sam
know we're back."
Johnny dismounted and took Remmie's reins but he made no
further move. "Scott?" He lowered his head, thinking he should just
keep his mouth shut.
Scott heard the pain in that soft voice, the tone, one he recognized all too well. Johnny sounded lost.
"We'll get it fixed, brother. I have an idea about that, too."
Slowly, his head came up and a small smile graced his lips.
"You always have ideas,
*
Johnny groomed Remmie then started to work on Barranca, his
mind totally focused on the chore. As he pulled the brush down the palomino's back one last time, he heard something out in the
main barn area. Setting the curry brush down, he stepped out of the stall,
latching it without thought. He stepped cautiously around the corner and
scanned the barn.
"Who's there?"
Silence greeted him for several seconds then, he heard a
rustling sound. Johnny's hand went to his right side then froze, inches above
the pistol grip. His heart thundered in his chest, pounded in his ears and he
felt as if he couldn't breathe. He started backing toward the door when he
heard it.
"Juanito."
He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Leave me
alone. Just leave me alone," he whispered.
"Come to me, mio hijo."
He peered into the dark corner, seeing the shadow move slightly
but he was unable to go to her and he was unable to move away. The sound of
gunfire outside barely registered in his mind.
*
"I suppose I was being a coward, Sam. I thought if I could
just get him home, we could deal with it. But, I'm beginning to have other
ideas of what's happening to Johnny."
Sam frowned at the young man. "You mean you don't think
this is some sort of illness?"
Scott shook his head. "No, I'm beginning to believe…” He
stopped and whipped around at the sound of gunfire outside. "Stay
here!" he shouted over his shoulder to Sam as he headed to the front door.
When he jerked the door open, splintering wood flew too close
to his face. Scott slammed the door shut and cursed silently. "Sam, go
upstairs with Murdoch and Teresa." He took off toward the kitchen and
eased the back door open, sliding through and closing it behind him soundlessly.
Scott quickly worked his way around to the back of the barn,
hoping against hope his brother was still safe inside. The guns seemed to be
concentrated on the front of the house but, suddenly, that turned and Scott saw
men working toward the barn. He figured a few things might be happening. They
wanted better cover, they knew Johnny was in there or, they planned on burning
it. None of the thoughts appealed to him in the slightest. He took off running
the last few open spaced feet to the back door and pressed himself against the
outside wall for a moment.
*
"Go away. You're not real. You're dead!" Johnny's
voice grew stronger with each declaration only to waver at the soft voice's
response.
"Nino, I am very real. Por favor, come to me, hijo."
Johnny took one step toward her when the door near her position
burst open and Scott tumbled through in a roll, coming up on one knee.
Scott found his brother's face quickly and saw the terror
there. "Why are you just standing here? We're fighting for our lives, Johnny!"
The young man only shook his head and looked at the corner
behind Scott. His hand came up and he pointed. "I have to go with
her."
Turning quickly, Scott saw nothing at first then,
he thought he saw a shadow, maybe a glimpse of movement. Angry beyond belief,
he strode over to the corner and stepped behind the haystacks there. He pulled
her out and dragged her toward his brother. Stopping a foot from Johnny and,
even as bullets were piercing the walls of the barn, he shoved her toward his
brother. "Is this your mother? Because, I have to say, she's a whole lot
younger than I would have thought!"
Johnny stared at her for a long beat, oblivious to the battle
raging all around him then, his face fairly mutated into a rage.
But the young woman was not prepared to admit defeat, she had
been paid and paid well for her services and she would not abandon her task,
not yet. “Juanito, please. You cannot do this. You can
not allow this gringo to come between us. He will ruin everything,” she cooed,
her voice throaty, sultry. “No one loves you as I do,
mio hijo. Mio Juanito.”
Uncertainty washed over Johnny. The woman’s face swirled before
him, contorting and reforming, taking on the features of his mother. He
hesitated, turning his back on the gunshots outside and, ignoring his brother.
He took a reluctant step in the woman’s direction, confusion crossing his
handsome features.
“That’s it, Juanito. Take my hand,” the woman urged.
“What are you doing, Johnny?” Scott demanded, his words
piercing through the cloud in Johnny’s mind. Grasping his brother’s arm, he
turned Johnny roughly toward him.
Johnny lifted his hand, prepared to fight Scott’s hold on his
arm. But, Scott suddenly released him and instead pulled the woman toward
Johnny. “Look, Johnny, look!” he demanded. “This is not Maria! She is trying to
destroy you and Lancer. Are you going to let her get away with this?”
Scott, holding the woman’s wrist, watched his brother’s face
for any sign his words had penetrated the fog in Johnny’s subconscious. After a
long minute, he was rewarded when a familiar flicker lit the deep blue eyes so,
he went for it. “This is not Maria! Snap out of it,
The woman sensing she had lost the battle for control of the
young man, began screaming in rage. "Let me go!
Let me go! They will kill me. They will kill us all!" she screamed.
"Who are you?" Johnny demanded,
eyes locked only on the woman. Even as he spoke the words, Scott jerked and
fell to the ground.
She looked down at Scott then grabbed Johnny's shirt in her
fists. "Please, nino. Please, do not let them kill me."
Johnny tried to look away, knew something was terribly wrong
yet, he stared at her, dazed. He knew this wasn't his mother now but, her words
pierced his heart, dragging him back in time to a place where his own mother
had begged for her life.
"Johnny, help me!" Scott shouted. He grabbed his
upper right chest as pain ripped through his torso. "Brother, I need
you!"
*
Johnny's head snapped up then he looked down at Scott, and saw
the blood. Someone had shot his brother, and this woman had almost succeeded in
brainwashing him into turning his back on his family and home. Ashamed of his
failure to prevent the attack on his father, and now his brother, Johnny
reacted. Drawing his gun, he moved to the barn door and opened one side as he
crouched low. He saw three men within five feet of their position and he let
the Colt power into action. Three loud reports then,
silence for a few seconds.
Scott scooted around, saw the woman just standing there and
sighed. "If you want to live, I suggest you get behind those haystacks
over there." He saw her run then made his way toward Johnny. Every inch he
moved felt like his chest was going to burst into flames. None of it kept him
from seeing his brother in full action.
Johnny slammed the first door closed after taking out the three
men then moved to open the other one. Again, the Colt exploded three times and
he slammed the door shut. Leaning against it, Johnny quickly reloaded, never
seeming to notice his brother.
"How many more?"
Glancing up only briefly, Johnny replied,
"three or four. Don't worry, Scott. I've got it."
Cocking a brow and about to argue he could give a hand, Scott
never got the chance. Johnny opened the barn door again and, this time, he
rolled out as he laid down a barrage of firepower.
"Johnny! Dammit!" Scott cussed. He had never meant
for Johnny to put himself in harm’s way. It almost seemed as if his brother was
deliberately tempting fate, daring her to take him. He knew Johnny was acting
on his self-inflicted guilt. Almost as if he were doing penance, and
surrendering to death should she choose to take him.
Scott made it to his knees and, using all his willpower, he
struggled to stand then leaned against the interior wall, breathing heavily
even as he checked his gun. As ready as he could be, Scott opened the door and
ran out. Heading to a horse trough, he dropped to his knees and hunkered down
then peeked over the edge to check the enemy.
It was quiet as Scott surveyed the landscape. Johnny stood
straight and tall ahead of him, scanning the area surrounding the hacienda for
any remaining attackers, his gun held loosely at his side. A visible shudder
passed through the young gunhawk’s body then he turned around and walked
determinedly toward Scott. The slight swagger in his brother's gait told Scott
all. The danger was past for now and Johnny was livid though, he would never
show it to anyone else.
Johnny crouched beside his brother and sighed. "I said I
had it. Come on, let's get you to the house. Good
thing Sam's still here."
Scott took the offered arm up then staggered a bit before
righting himself. "Not yet, brother. You'd better get hold of that young
lady before she runs off."
Johnny looked in his brother's eyes, expecting chastisement but, all he saw was support. He blew
out a breath and shook his head. "No, she can wait or not. It doesn't
matter now, Scott. You're hurt worse than you might think. Come on now, no
arguments." He wrapped an arm around his brother's waist and started
guiding him to the house.
Undeterred, Scott pulled back. “We need to know for sure who
was behind this, Johnny. I’m alright and it won’t take a minute if you keep
that look on your face.”
Johnny’s eyes widened, unaware of any
particular ‘look’. He sighed, knowing Scott was right.
Easing his brother back against the trough, he headed inside the barn.
She was still cowering behind the haystacks when he found her.
Johnny grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. As she looked up at him, he
saw the abject fear in her eyes.
“I don’t have time for any more of your games. My father and
brother have both been shot, could’ve easily been killed while you played
ghost. So, no excuses, no begging for help, just tell me who hired you.”
She swallowed convulsively then hiccoughed once. Swiping her
free hand across her face, she spoke the name, “Buck Addison,” then spat on the
floor.
*
Johnny stared out the window of his father’s bedroom, lost
inside his own guilt. He didn’t hear the man stir and he didn’t hear Murdoch
call out to him. It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he
reacted, jerking around to find Sam staring at him. “What?”
“Murdoch is calling you.”
Johnny frowned then blinked, his eyes moving to the bed just
before his legs responded. He knelt down, putting a hand over his father’s and
searching the man’s face, waiting for whatever punishment he deemed fit.
Murdoch tried a small smile but saw it didn’t help ease his
son’s mind. “Are you alright?”
“Me? I’m fine, old man. How are you doin?”
Waving a hand in dismissal, he snorted lightly. “I’ll be fine
as soon as Sam cuts me loose. It wasn’t that bad to begin with.”
“Says the man who razes the roof when his boys don’t follow my
instructions,” Sam imparted with a hint of sarcasm.
Johnny let out a soft breath, not up to the lightheartedness
both men were trying to imbue. He dropped his head and settled back on his
haunches.
“You did nothing wrong, Johnny.”
“I did everything wrong, Murdoch. The worst thing was I froze.
I’ve never done that before. Not ever. I’ve been in some real bad situations
and I’ve always done what needed doin. But, when it was most important, I …” he
stopped there, unable to say the word.
“You don’t have it in you to be a coward, son. I know you were
afraid but, being afraid isn’t a sin.”
Sam walked over and stood behind Johnny, laying a hand on his
shoulder. “How long since you’ve slept well? Or at all?
Going without proper rest contributes a great deal to slower reflexes and even
hallucinations.”
Johnny’s head came up and he looked back at Sam. “You think I
was seeing things? She was real, Sam.”
“Yes, she was real but, if you hadn’t been so exhausted, you most
likely would have realized she wasn’t Maria much sooner. We don’t really know
if she was actually there those times when you say you felt someone watching
you.”
Murdoch squeezed his hand and brought Johnny’s attention to
him. “There’s only one man to blame here, Johnny. I hate what this is going to
do to Aggie but, Buck Addison has to pay for what he’s done.”
“I hate it, too. I never much liked him but, Aggie doesn’t
deserve this.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Scott said from the doorway.
*
All three men turned to the door. It was Sam who reacted first.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
“I’m fine, Sam. You said so yourself.”
“I also said you needed rest.” Turning to Murdoch, Sam pointed
his finger at the elder son. “And you wonder why they’re like they are? Both of
them, they’re just like you!”
Scott and Murdoch laughed a little but the room grew heavy as
they all noticed Johnny wasn’t sharing in the humor.
“Johnny…”
“Don’t, Scott. Okay?” he said as he rose to his feet. “Don’t
say it wasn’t my fault. Yeah,
“If it wasn’t you, it would have been something else. All he
cared about was getting Lancer. That’s all he’s ever cared about was owning as
much land as possible and reigning supreme over this entire valley since he
came here. If it had been me, you would be saying the same things we’re all
saying to you now.”
“Maybe so, brother, and maybe you wouldn’t be so easy letting
go of it, either.” Johnny looked at him, square in the eyes. “You can’t tell me
you weren’t mad as hell at me in that barn. You’d had enough of me.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Yes, I was angry. Of course, I was. But
I wasn’t tired of you. We were being attacked! I needed you back, Johnny. I
needed …”
“
“The point is, it didn’t work because Buck didn’t figure the
most important factor into his ploy,” Murdoch said. Once all
three men were looking at him, his mouth quirked a little. “*Lancer*
takes care of it’s own.”
*
The woman lowered her head, fear making her small shoulders
shake uncontrollably. In the last week since the shootout at the Lancer barn,
she had hidden like a wild animal, never traveling during the day and always
looking over her shoulder. But his men had pursued her relentlessly, finally
catching up with her outside a small dirty town. Roughly they had dragged her
back to their boss where he waited in a thicket of trees and dumped her
unceremoniously on the ground before him.
Buck Addison had jerked her brutally to her feet and slapped
her, almost knocking her back to her knees but for the strong chest of the man
behind her. The burly hand had painfully gripped her arms, forcing her to
remain on her feet while
“Please, Mr. Addison, please. It wasn’t my fault.”
“Not your fault?” Buck raged, his face turning varying shades of
purple. “You got careless. You let the Lancers catch you. That damn Lancer kid
took out six of my best men. Six!”
The young woman began crying in earnest, tears spilling down
her cheeks. “I told you it was a mistake to play games with
“You also told me he’d buy all this haunting if he believed it
was his mother. YOU said she was his Achilles heel! Or, don’t you remember how
confident you were?” His lips pressed tightly for a moment, he shook his head.
“You’re pathetic. All that talk about how well you knew him and Maria. How easy
it would be to take him in. Well, now you’ll find out what happens when you lie
to me.” Looking over at his henchman, he said, “Bart, take her out of here. You
know what to do.” Buck turned his back on the pair and moved toward his horse,
standing quietly under the trees.
“Mr. Addison?” Bart questioned. “Mind if me
and Luke have some fun before we finish the job?”
Buck Addison mounted his horse before answering. “Suit yourself
but make it quick. We have an appointment at Lancer.”
*
Buck Addison was in a rage, but his movements were controlled,
precise. He swiftly unsaddled his chestnut and moved toward the black gelding
he used for night travel. He was in the process of saddling the black when Luke
and Bart entered the barn.
“Everything taken care of?”
Luke hitched his gun belt and shrugged his shoulders. With a
quick glance at Bart, he answered, “Yeah we had some fun and then finished the
job.”
“Well, saddle up then. We have an appointment with Murdoch
Lancer.”
“Buck?” Aggie called, curious but not alarmed.
Buck schooled his features into his best poker face and turned
toward her. “Aggie, what are you doing out here?”
“Why are you going to see Murdoch?”
Buck could tell she was not going to be put off but he fought
down his anger at the interruption. “Lancer was attacked a week ago, you know
that. Murdoch and I are going to come up with a strategy for protecting our
ranches from any further threats.”
Skeptically, Aggie studied her husband. “At
this hour, Buck? Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something from
me?”
“Look, Aggie, get back inside and wait
for me. I won’t be long and then I’ll explain everything to you.”
“I’ll ride with you.”
“No, Aggie, you won’t. Now do as I say and get back in the
house.” Buck’s voice cracked as his impatience broke through his control.
“What’s going on, Buck?” Aggie
knew her husband well and had often engaged in lighthearted games of chance
with him, in particular poker. She recognized the gambler in her husband now,
the man with an agenda, with something to hide and she was not going to be
deterred. “Murdoch is just now up and about. He wouldn’t discuss such matters
at this hour. Now tell me the truth.”
“Aggie, I won’t ask you again. Now I’m telling you. Get in the
house and I will explain everything when I get home.” Buck took her arm and
turned her toward the barn door, forcing her ahead of him.
A shadow near the door separated itself from the wall of the
barn and slowly began to materialize. Buck stopped, his left hand still on
Aggie’s arm, his right hand hovering over his hip. As the shadow took on shape
and form, Buck cursed under his breath.
“Everything, Buck?”
“What the hell are you doing here, Johnny?”
*
The blue eyes drilled into the man before him, unconcerned with
anyone else in the building. He ignored the question, a slight smirk crossing
his face. “You gonna tell her everything? Because, I’d like
to hear that myself.” Johnny’s eyes darted to Buck’s right hand,
hovering over his holster, and a smile came to his lips.
Aggie looked up at her husband then back at Johnny, dread
causing her stomach to roll. “What’s happening, Johnny?
Is Murdoch alright?”
“I’m just fine, Aggie, but perhaps you should go back inside
now.” Murdoch stepped through the barn doors, Scott at his side. Both men had
their guns drawn.
Scott moved behind them all to Bart and Luke, huddled in the
back of the barn, seemingly unaware of what was unfolding before them.
Smoothly, Scott reached out and took each man’s gun from their holsters,
tossing the weapons to the far side of the barn. “Just come with me, gentlemen,
and you won’t get hurt.”
As Scott led the two men outside, Johnny took two steps closer
to Buck, noting the man tightening his grip on his wife. Eyes narrowing,
Johnny’s face turned rigid. “Don’t even think about hiding behind that woman,
Addison. Let her go.”
“Who the hell do you think you are coming in here and ordering
me around? Aggie is my wife!”
“Yeah, and you couldn’t let that be enough. You got her ranch,
all her land but it wasn’t enough. You won the girl but you couldn’t let go of
the hate you have for Murdoch. Just couldn’t stand that she still wanted him in
her life. I’ve met a lot of fools in my time, but you beat them all.”
Buck laughed throatily. “I’m a fool, Johnny? What about you? It
wasn’t so hard to convince you that your dead mother had returned from the
grave.”
Murdoch took a step forward but Johnny raised his arm to stay
the man. A smile curved his lips and he laughed softly. “Yeah, I was a fool.
Good thing my old man and brother ain’t. Getting rid of me wouldn’t have helped
you any, ya know.”
“Seeing as how you took out six of my best, I’d say it would
have been worth it,”
Aggie listened to it all, not understanding the conversation
but, she clearly understood the intent of what they were saying and she felt
very dizzy. She swayed a little and Buck pulled her closer to steady her. Fire
suddenly erupted in her eyes as she jerked free of his hold and stepped away
from them all.
“You did this? You were behind the attack on Lancer? Why, Buck?
Why would you do that?”
“I’d like to hear the answer to that, myself,” Murdoch said,
his fists clenched at his sides.
*
Aggie pulled her small shoulders back and glared at him. “I’m
not going anywhere, Buck Addison.”
“She’s got a right to know the snake she married,” Johnny
seethed.
Murdoch saw the tremor of her lower lip and how hard she was
fighting to keep the tears away. “Johnny, no.”
Aggravated beyond his endurance, Johnny had had enough. “No
more pussyfootin around, Murdoch. She’s gonna find out anyway.” He looked at
her but kept an eye on
“It was his men who shot Murdoch and his men who attacked the
house last week. They shot Scott that time. He had them dam our water, stampede
our cattle, cut our fences. It was a real range war only we didn’t know who was
behind it. Scott got an idea when you came to visit Murdoch. Makes sense, too.
He was jealous of Murdoch and he’s always been a greedy bastard. He wanted it
all. You, the valley, all of it.”
“Shut up!”
“Sure, it’s my fault that you couldn’t be satisfied with the
Buck’s eye twitched as he stared at Johnny. “If I’d killed you
outright, Aggie would have practically moved into Lancer to be with Murdoch.”
He turned to his wife then. “I’m your husband, Aggie, not him. I’m the one
you’re supposed to worry and fret and make over, not him!”
She stared at him in unadulterated shock, slowly shaking her
head back and forth. “Oh, Buck, you fool. You poor, poor
fool. I loved you. Why couldn’t you accept that? I married you! I
thought you knew me better than to think I would settle.” She pressed her fist
to her lips then ran out.
“You had every man’s dream,
“You can’t prove any of this, Lancer. She won’t say anything
against me.”
“No need for her to.” Scott walked back inside the barn with
Val Crawford and Sam Jenkins. “We have two irrefutable witnesses right here who
heard your confession.”
Val walked over and slapped handcuffs on
*
Murdoch stood outside the front door of the
Aggie and Murdoch had been friends for so long he couldn’t recall a day when
she had not been in his life but romance had been far removed from their
affection for one another. They had laughed, competed with and supported each
other. But they had not even considered falling in love. Or had they fallen
without even realizing it? They had danced around each other like young lovers
but resisted any physical urges. Yet, Buck had been unable to see that. He had
mistakenly believed Murdoch Lancer to be a threat to his position as Aggie’s
husband. He had sold her devotion and loyalty out for acres of earth and some
stupid four legged creatures.
Anger rose once more in Murdoch’s heart. Yet, as angry as he
was with Buck Addison, his heart was immediately full of pain as his thoughts
turned to Aggie. She deserved so much more, she deserved to be happy.
Drawing in a deep breath to steady his nerves, he braced himself
for the disposition Aggie might be in. He raised a hand, surprised to see it
trembling. Without further hesitation he rapped sharply on the door. Long
moments passed and he was beginning to believe she would not answer his summons
when the door slowly moved inward.
Aggie stood before him, dressed in a somber shade of gray. Her
mouth was a straight line as she fought to control her emotions. Faint lines
creased her eyes and a frown marred her forehead but her eyes were clear, with
no trace of tears.
“Murdoch,” she welcomed him formally, stepping aside to swing
the door wide open in invitation. She refused to meet his gaze as he passed
her, entering the ranch house but being careful to avoid any contact.
“I, uh, I thought I would come by. See how you’re holding up.”
His words sounded flat even to his own ears yet, Murdoch found himself unable to say more. He turned to face Aggie as she
closed the door.
“I’m fine. You know me.” Her eyes finally met his, and he could
see the true extent of her pain. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Aggie, I’m so sorry. We had to…” his words were choked off as
her small hand struck his cheek, the sharp sound reverberating throughout the
still house.
Aggie lifted a hand to cover her mouth, horror at her actions
staining her cheeks a bright crimson. “Oh, Murdoch, I didn’t mean that.”
“I know you didn’t,” he agreed. In an instant she was in his
arms, tears wetting his chest as the dam burst and all her pent up anger and
anguish was released in a torrent.
He held her quietly, one hand stroking her back as she allowed
her emotions to run their course. Slowly the tears ceased and she stepped back
to gaze up into his face. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. It’s what friends are for,” he
soothed.
“Damn it, Murdoch. Why couldn’t I see Buck for the man he
really was? Why was I so blind?”
“He was your husband and you are the kind of woman who stands
by her man. I wouldn’t have expected anything less if you had been my wife.”
Murdoch ran a hand through his hair.
“I was stupid. I couldn’t see the real person.”
“No, Aggie, no. You are
not stupid. You are a passionate, desirable woman. He wasn’t good enough for
you.” He twisted his hat in his large hands, now uncomfortable by the direction
the conversation seemed to be taking. “Are you going to be alright?”
“Oh, you know me. I’m always alright. I just keep overlooking
what is right in front of my face.” Aggie’s eyes darkened as she watched
Murdoch for his reaction.
“We’ve known each other so long,” Murdoch confessed. “I had my
doubts about
“Why, Murdoch? Why weren’t you ever interested enough to court
me?”
“I didn’t want to ruin a perfect friendship.” Murdoch was
candid, the revelation answering the question he had raised to himself earlier.
“You’re right, of course. And it probably would have ruined
things.” Aggie tilted her head considering the man before her. “I’ll be
alright, you know. I just wondered…”
“What?” The question fell off his lips even as the realization
of how attractive she really was washed over him. “I still don’t want to ruin a
perfect friendship,” he said huskily.
“Coffee then?” She
lowered her chin and stared up at him through long lashes.
“Definitely.” He
swept her into his arms again, this time his lips claiming hers.
*
“So, what happened with Aggie?” Johnny prodded for the third
time since they had retired to the great room. He studied the glass of tequila
in his hands before raising his eyes to stare boldly at his father.
“John,” Murdoch warned.
“Come on, Murdoch. I only want to know if Aggie is okay.”
“I was wondering the same thing.” Scott moved to stand beside
his brother, presenting a united front.
“All I can say is Aggie and I are
friends, very good friends. And I do not kiss and tell.” Murdoch strode to his
desk and sat heavily in the chair.
“I’m turning in.” Johnny put his glass back on the bar and left
the room.
“Good night, Sir,” Scott threw out hastily as he left to follow
Johnny.
He caught up with the younger Lancer outside the door to his
room and grasped his arm. “Ten to one, she refused him.”
“I bet she didn’t. But we’ll never know.” Johnny pushed his
bedroom door open, a smile curving his mouth.
“Johnny?” Scott hesitated.
“Get it said, brother.” The words had been spoken before, months ago by the other but, that time there had
been an ominous tone to Scott’s voice. This time, Johnny’s mimicry was colored
with laughter.
Scott quirked his mouth at the reminder.
“Alright, I will. I’m worried about you.”
Hanging his head and letting out a harsh breath, Johnny stood
still for a moment before looking back up. His eyes were devoid of emotion. “No
need, brother. Whatever I have to deal with, well, it’s not something you can
help me with now. You did enough helping by making me see the truth and
snapping me out of … whatever the hell I was doing.”
“I just want you to see that whatever did happen to you before,
it’s gone now. The man in that barn tonight was in full control of himself,
confident and sure.”
“Yeah, but it still happened, Scott. For me, that’s not an easy
thing to accept. Like I said, I’ll deal with it. No need to talk it to death,
right?”
Scott let out a soft laugh of acquiescence. “No, no need unless
you want to at some point. The offer stands – always.”
Johnny smiled brightly and patted his arm. “All I want right
now is some decent sleep. I’m sure I’ll be able to get that now. Thanks, Scott.
For everything.” Without waiting a response, Johnny
slipped into his room and shut the door.
Scott stared at that door for a long moment then nodded,
confident he had his brother back now. And, if Johnny faltered, Scott knew he’d
come and talk it out. The shadows had been shown the light of day and had
skittered away, back into the past.
The End
Lacy/Winj
Nov 08