"BETRAYAL"
CHAPTER 1
Johnny Lancer waved to the men on the work crew as he rode off on Barranca, heading in the direction of the Lancer Hacienda. The dark-haired man smiled and his blue eyes glowed as he gave Barranca lead to go at full stride. It had been a long, hot, day branding cattle and he was glad to be on the way home. He hoped that Maria had kept her word; she'd been promising for days to make arroz con pollo with refried beans and fresh flour tortillas. Now, if only Teresa had baked a chocolate cake, the youngest Lancer would feel as if he'd died and gone to heaven.
The thought of his surrogate sister brought a frown to Johnny's face as he looked down at his dark red shirt. There was a big black mark right down the front and he knew Teresa O'Brien was going to have something to say when she saw it. She had just made that shirt for his last birthday, and had warned him that he would seriously regret it if he wore it as a work shirt. He tried to think of an excuse for why he was wearing it but he couldn't come up with one. Johnny had just plain forgotten to put his dirty clothes in the laundry and this was the only clean shirt he'd had to wear.
As he cut across the stream and turned his horse west Johnny noticed a solitary figure standing in the small Lancer ranch cemetery plot. As he drew closer, he could see the breeze stirring the light colored hair on the tall man's bowed head, and he recognized the familiar dark gray shirt. Sighing, Johnny continued riding towards the tiny graveyard, but stopped some distance away, near the patiently waiting Brunswick, opting to give the man the privacy he knew he'd prefer.
A few long moments passed while Johnny waited quietly, even though he had yet to be acknowledged. Finally, the mourner turned towards the man on horseback, replacing his hat as he walked slowly away from the small collection of headstones. As he approached the spot where Johnny sat watching him, he looked up and said: "Howdy, Johnny."
"Hi there, Chad, " Johnny replied.
Johnny knew that it was Callie's grave that Chad had been visiting. Callie was Chad's sister and Chad had killed her.
"Woulda been her birthday tommorra Johnny, " Chad observed sadly.
"That right, Chad?", Johnny responded sympathetically, nudging Barranca forward as Chad mounted Brunswick.
As they continued on together towards the hacienda, Johnny thought back to when he'd first met Chad. He had stopped to get a room for the night in a small town twenty miles from Morro Coyo. Chad had been in the saloon singing a song; Johnny couldn't remember the name of it, but it had been something about a witch woman. Callie, a slightly built young woman with long blond hair, had been collecting money from the people who'd been listening to Chad sing. Some local rowdies had come in and started causing trouble. One of them-- Johnny recalled that the man's name had been "Buck"-- had made a pass at Callie and when Chad objected, Buck had threatened him with a gun. Johnny had had to intervene, wounding Buck and putting himself right in the middle. He'd quickly given up the idea of getting a room and he'd left right behind Chad and Callie. Thanks to his efforts to assist the two young strangers, Johnny had ended up with an injured leg and a runaway horse.
Chad and Callie had introduced themselves as the Bufords, all the way from Kentucky. They'd come to California to kill off the last of a family called the Lancres. It was part of a feud between the two families, and they'd insisted that they couldn't rest until the last of the Lancres were gone. The Bufords had helped Johnny tend to his injury and he had decided to bring the two of them back to the ranch.
Unfortunately, by the time they'd arrived, Callie had convinced herself that Johnny was in love with her. Apparently, it was some backwoods custom that if a man offered to fetch wood for you he was asking for your hand or something. Callie had also figured out that the Lancres that she and Chad were hunting had changed their name to Lancer. It was, in fact, the members of Johnny's own family that his two new friends wished to eliminate.
Johnny frowned as he remembered having to explain to Chad that he wasn't in love with his sister. That had been difficult because Johnny had come to consider Chad a friend. When Chad had in turn informed his sister that Johnny was not actually smitten with her, Callie had reacted angrily. She had told Chad that Johnny was a Lancre and then claimed that he'd taken advantage of her. Chad had gotten so incensed at that, that he had actually called Johnny out. Johnny had gone to meet with Chad to try to talk some sense into him, making sure not to bring his gun along for the confrontation. Callie, realizing that Chad might kill Johnny in cold blood, ran to tell Chad the truth and Chad, thinking she was Johnny, had shot her by mistake. Callie had died, but before she drew her last breath she had confessed that Chad was not exactly a Buford, that in reality he was himself a Lancre. Johnny remembered her words clearly; she'd said: "You are my older sister Ann's boy. And she ran off with a . . Lancre. Ann died and Paw raised ya like his own."
So Chad was Callie's nephew, not her brother. But regardless of their relationship, Callie had been Chad's only remaining relative. When they had stood together at the graveside on the day of Callie's burial, Chad had said mournfully that it seemed like he didn't know where he belonged. Johnny had said that Chad belonged at the ranch and Murdoch had agreed, assuring the Kentuckian that he was a Lancer and that the Lancer spread was where he belonged.
"You reckon the women folk will have supper ready when we git there?" Chad asked, his question breaking into Johnny's thoughts.
Johnny pulled himself back to the present and smiled. "I sure hope so. That brandin' takes a lot out of a man."
"What ya thinkin' they'll be feedin us tonight?" Chad wondered hungrily.
Johnny responded with a twinkle in his eye, "Well, I think Teresa said something about . . . . . . . .liver."
Chad groaned, "Liver! Now Johnny why'd ya have ta tell me that. I reckon I'm gonna…" Looking at Johnny he realized that his cousin was pulling his leg. "Why you…."
"I'll race you home!" Johnny shouted and pushed Barranca into a full gallop leaving Chad behind to catch up.
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As he finished his dinner, Johnny smiled contentedly and considered that he needed to do something special for Maria. She had in fact made his favorite Mexican dishes: Arroz con pollo, refried beans and flour tortillas. He picked up his glass and finished his milk.
"Johnny, how'd the branding go today?" Murdoch Lancer asked from his place at the head of the table.
"Fine," Johnny said swallowing quickly. "Another day out there and I think we'll be finished. We woulda gotten done today but Jordan got stepped on and I had ta send a couple of the hands to take him to see Doc Jenkins."
Putting his fork down, the elder Lancer turned to Chad, who was seated at Murdoch's left. "Chad, how far did you get on that ditch I wanted cleared?"
Chad looked up from his food and said, "I reckon I'm bout half way done, suh. Should be done by day after tommorra."
Clearly, Murdoch was not entirely pleased by the young man's estimate. "That long?" he inquired doubtfully. Then he nodded his white head and said "Well, you just keep at it, Chad. . . . On second thought, why don't you work with Johnny and the branding crew tomorrow, fill in for Jordan?" Chad bobbed his head in agreement and Murdoch, smiling fondly at Teresa, changed the topic of conversation. "Now, I want you two boys to listen up because Teresa said she had something she wanted to tell us at supper."
Teresa smiled brightly. She got up from her seat beside Johnny and crossed the room to pick up a piece of paper from one of the side tables. "Yes, one of the ladies from church stopped by today and gave me this." Returning to her place, she handed the page to Johnny. "It's an invitation to a church social; they are having a dance for members of the congregation. It also says that they are looking for anyone who can sing or play an instrument to be part of the entertainment. It's next Saturday night, and I thought we could all go as a family."
Johnny looked across the table at Chad and said seriously. "Chad, you can do both. I think we should sign you up."
Teresa chimed in, "Oh, yes! Chad that would be just wonderful!"
Chad shook his head, uncomfortable with the attention that Teresa and Johnny were focusing upon him. "I don't know, " he replied, looking across at each of them in turn.
"I reckon folks round here ain't used to my kinda music."
Murdoch sat back in his chair and said, "I think Johnny has an excellent idea. Let's retire to the great room and Chad, you can play a bit for us. I'd like to see some of the dance steps from Kentucky too. We could really turn this social into a learning experience for everyone."
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CHAPTER 2
The next day, Johnny greeted Chad when he entered the kitchen for breakfast. Chad nodded soberly in Johnny's direction and sat down heavily in the nearest chair, resting his elbows on the kitchen table, the image of dejection. Johnny immediately noticed that his cousin seemed particularly downcast this morning and then, as he poured himself a cup of coffee, he remembered that today was Callie's birthday.
Johnny poured a second cup of coffee for Chad and handed it to him, but he knew that there was really very little else that he could do. There was certainly nothing that he could say. It had been an accident, but Chad had pulled the trigger, he had shot and killed his sister. There were no words to ease the pain and guilt caused by that stark fact.
Johnny shook his head. He himself had once felt that same guilt over his brother Scott. The Velasquez brothers, seeking revenge for their own younger sibling's death in a gunfight with Johnny Madrid, had set it up so that Scott would have to face him. Johnny remembered that fateful day when he'd had to make the choice between dropping his older brother or watching as the Velasquez' partner, Gordon, shot Scott down in the street. He had made the only decision he felt he could at the time and had wounded Scott himself. There had been a long, dark, period of uncertainty when Johnny had feared that Scott had died or was dying from that wound. And that feeling of guilt was still there. Oh, he knew Scott hadn't held it against him, he'd even understood why Johnny had done it, but the former gunhawk still hated remembering that he could have finished his only brother. He looked at Chad and wondered how his cousin could bear knowing that he'd killed the young woman he had loved as a sister. Johnny knew that he himself would have never been the same again if he had actually taken Scott's life.
Scott Lancer had been away in Sacramento for a week and was due back in Morro Coyo on the afternoon stage. "Hey Chad," Johnny said, "Ya want ta come with me ta meet Scott in town this afternoon?"
Before Chad could respond, Maria, carefully approaching the table holding two plates laden with food, looked up at Johnny with a pleased expression. "Senor Scott, he is coming home today?"
"Si, that's right. And I'm bettin' he's forgotten all his espanol by now, Maria . . "
Maria fussed at Johnny for saying that, but her pleasure at Scott's imminent return was evident. She began murmuring aloud in Spanish as she considered the evening's menu. Johnny grinned to himself. Quite soon after the brothers had arrived at the ranch, Scott had started asking Maria for Spanish words and translations and the older woman had taken her role as instructor very seriously. It was actually pretty fortunate that Scott had a good memory and continued to pick up the vocabulary fairly easily, since Maria had even threatened, jokingly Johnny hoped, to withhold food on occasion. Boston hadn't had too much success mastering the accent, and Johnny knew that there had been times when his older brother would just as soon not have had to eat some of the spicy Mexican dishes that Maria had prepared. But Maria seemed to dote on the blond Lancer and was forever plying him with her specialties, all of which were new, exotic, and in some cases, difficult to acquire, tastes for the Easterner.
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As they trotted down the road on their way to Morro Coyo, Johnny glanced over at Chad and frowned. He'd been pleased when Chad had said he'd come along, but ever since they'd left home his cousin hadn't said three words. Johnny had tried several topics but Chad just wasn't talking. Deciding he'd had enough, Johnny reined Barranca to a halt and stopped in the middle of the road. Brunswick, on his lead behind Johnny, came to a standstill as well. Chad's horse continued on bit, until Chad realized that Johnny wasn't with him. He pulled on the reins and as the horse slowed to a stop, Chad slid sideways almost falling off. Johnny shook his head as Chad turned to ride back to him; it seemed his cousin still just couldn't stay in the saddle.
"Whatsa matter, Johnny?" Chad asked, puzzled.
"That's what I want to know?" Johnny asked with some irritation. "You ain't said three words since we left home. What's eatin' at ya?"
Chad looked down at Buford, his big bay horse, his fingers playing with the reins nervously. "Uh….well, I didn't want ta say nuthin' but . . . I jist don't think Scott likes me much."
Frowning Johnny said, "What gave you that idea? Scott gets along with most everybody, he ain't all that hard to live with."
Chad shook his head, "Right before he left he said that he was gonna get me some learnin' books cause I was needin' to be taught some things so I ain't so embarrassin'."
"Scott said you were embarrassin'?" Johnny was quite surprised that his older brother would say something so . . not polite . . . to Chad.
Chad nodded. "I reckon he didn't know I heard him. He was talkin' ta somebody and said he was fetchin' ta straighten me right up." Hanging his head Chad said softly, "I'm sorry I'm not what ya family expects me ta be."
"You're just fine the way you are, Chad. We all like you just fine."
"Yeah, but since he's collige edjucated Scott jist knows he's better'n us, now don't he?"
Johnny stared at Chad, thinking about what he'd just said. "Nah, it ain't like that. Look, I'll talk ta Scott…."
Chad shook his head interrupting him, "No, Johnny! I don't want ya ta say nuthin'. Mebbe I din't hear 'im right. Scott'll git mad at me an' it will jist make things worse." Nudging his horse forward. "Sides, I cain't rightly hold it agin him, he did have all that schoolin' an all. But you jist ferget I said nuthin', mebbe I was wrong."
They rode along in silence each lost in their own thoughts. Johnny couldn't get what Chad had said out of his head. Johnny remembered when Scott had helped Josh learn to read. His older brother had been so patient with the ranch hand as he'd struggled with the printed words. Scott had sat with Josh for hours, just listening to him slowly sounding out the words, only murmuring gentle corrections now and then when Josh was unable to come up with the correct pronunciation. Big Josh had been a proud man, but he had been very grateful for Scott's assistance.
On the other hand, Johnny also recalled that when he himself had returned from teaching at that school, Scott had had a few choice comments to make about Johnny's suitability for the task. Johnny had assumed that the older man had only been teasing, that Scott had merely intended a few harmless jokes-at least it had certainly seemed that way at the time. But now, riding into town, Johnny wondered if there had been more to it than that. Ol'Boston was always talking about things from books he'd read, things that he knew pretty well by now that Johnny had never heard about. But Scott still kept on mentioning people from history or characters in stories that he called "classics". Johnny had to admit that a lot of it was pretty interesting, but now he wondered how much of it was just what popped into his brother's head and how much was a deliberate attempt on the Easterner's part to "straighten Johnny right up."
Johnny shook his head, unhappy with his train of thought. Didn't he know Boston better'n that by now? Scott had never once said or done anything to indicate that he was in any way embarrassed to have Johnny for a brother, in fact, much the opposite. Truth be told, early on, of the two of them, it had been Scott who had been more accepting of their relationship.
But Chad didn't know Scott as well. As they approached the outskirts of Morro Coyo, Johnny wondered if he should abide by Chad's wishes or if he should say something to his brother. Chad was obviously unhappy, and Johnny was worried that Scott might unintentionally say or do something to make matters worse. Johnny decided that he'd let it go for now. There would be plenty of time to talk to Boston later.
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The stage had already arrived when Johnny and Chad turned onto the main street. From that distance, Johnny easily recognized the familiar lean figure of his brother emerging from the coach. As Barranca continued his steady pace, Johnny watched Scott turn back to the door and assist an older couple to disembark. Still too far away to make out distinct words, Johnny could tell that Scott was talking with the husband and wife, and saw him tip his hat to the elderly woman.
Johnny slid off of Barranca, handed his reins and Brunswick's lead to Chad, and strolled over to Scott. "Hey, Boston! You have a nice trip?" Johnny asked, lightly tapping his brother's shoulder.
Sighing, Scott managed a small smile. "Yes, but that stage hit every hole between here and Sacramento. I'm ready to go home and sit in a tub." Seeing Chad dismount from Buford a short distance away, Scott greeted him with a mild, "Hello, Chad."
Chad replied, "Scott, glad yur home," and stepped towards Scott. Scott turned to retrieve his gun belt from the driver; he then passed it to Johnny and missed seeing Chad's outstretched hand. Reaching to take the heavy leather bag being handed down to him from the top of the coach, Scott looked over his shoulder and asked his brother a question: "You didn't bring a wagon?"
"Nope." Then in response to Scott's uplifted brow, Johnny explained that Jelly would be coming into town in the morning for supplies and could pick up Scott's luggage then. "Just leave it at the hotel, if ya think ya can live without it overnight."
"I might survive, " Scott said dryly and then wearily carried his bag into the nearby building. When his brother emerged a few minutes later, Johnny greeted him with, "We brought Brunswick with us, cause he missed ya." Scott was carrying a few small packages, which he had evidently removed from his valise, and he slipped them
Brunswick's saddlebags. He then had a few words for the chestnut and gave the horse a couple of strokes on the neck. The animal nickered softly at the sound of his voice. "Chad's been exercising him for ya," Johnny added.
"Oh really? . . Well, thanks, Chad," Scott said glancing his way and then back to Johnny. "Anything new at the ranch?"
"No," said Johnny, handing Scott his gun belt. "'Cept that Teresa and Maria were cookin' up a storm when we left." Johnny smiled as they walked to their horses. "Seems the women are afraid you mighta starved while you were gone."
Scott grinned back at him as he strapped his weapon in place, "I can smell their cooking already!" The three Lancers mounted their horses and headed out of town.
Scott looked around at the landscape appreciatively. "It feels good to be home . . .
"So what'dya do in the big city?" Johnny prompted him.
"Visited with Will, mostly," Scott replied slowly. "Talked about the cases he's working on. There is an art gallery that just opened in Sacramento, it's the first one here in the West, . ." Then, as Scott paused, Johnny interrupted him, turning to Chad. "Hey, we better get out there and help finish the brandin' or Murdoch's gonna wanna know why it ain't done." As Chad nodded in emphatic agreement, Johnny turned back to his older brother. "Sorry, Scott, what'd you say?"
Scott shook his head, "Never mind. I'll talk to you tonight."
Johnny and Chad broke off, and spurred their horses, heading across the open field.
Scott continued on alone to the Hacienda.
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Scott had more than enough time before supper to take a bath and change out of the dusty clothes in which he had been traveling. He buttoned his dark blue shirt and tucked it in, fastened up his pants and walked over to the mirror. He ran a comb through his still damp hair and then picked up the gift-wrapped box which was lying on the dresser. The paper was a delicate pink with tiny little rose buds on it. Scott smiled, knowing that Maria would love the paper almost as much as the gifts inside.
He walked downstairs, avoiding the dining room where he heard the voices of the family gathering, and entered the kitchen. Maria and Juanita were busy preparing the food for the evening meal. Scott quietly glanced at the dishes and smiled. They'd made a roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob and a blueberry crunch for dessert. He walked over to the counter and leaned on it. Juanita smiled shyly in greeting, but Maria, intent upon her task, had not noticed his entrance. Scott watched her work for a moment.
"Como esta, Maria?" Scott said finally.
Maria turned around putting her hand on her chest. "Muy bien, Senor Scott. You scared me! Usted es una calma como un león de montana." Though Scott had learned a lot of Spanish from Maria, he had a hard time keeping up with her rapid words. He did catch the words "quiet" and "mountain lion".
Scott smiled. "I'm really not as quiet as a mountain lion, but you were busy at work and didn't hear me come in." He handed her the box, struggling to find the right Spanish words with which to accompany the gift. Maria wiped her hands off on her apron before accepting the box from Scott.
"Gracias," Scott said gesturing to the present. "Para….. teaching me espanol."
Maria sat down in a chair near the kitchen table, placing the package in her aproned lap and commenting on how "bonita" it looked. Scott settled in a chair beside her. She finally began to unwrap the box, being careful not to rip the paper. She would certainly save this beautiful paper, never had she seen anything like it in all her life! She set the box on the table and removed the cover. In the left hand side of the box, nestled in the tissue paper was a milk white perfume atomizer with pink flowers painted on it, and a matching powder box. On the right hand side was a collection of bundles of silk embroidery thread. Maria ran her fingers delightedly through the colorful silk skeins. There were at least a dozen, maybe more, and the hues were both beautiful and unusual.
"Gracias, Senor Scott. They are….bonita!." Maria smiled as she stood up, and in her enthusiasm, actually leaned over and gave "Senor Scott" a quick hug and a pat on the cheek. "But you should not have! They must have cost mucho dinero." Scott was pleased with Maria's delight in his gift, but somewhat uncomfortable with the display of motherly affection. It was not something that he had often experienced. He stood up, giving Maria his own quick hug, then moving away as Teresa walked through the door.
He looked down at Maria with a serious expression and said. "Si, Maria. I should have." Scott would have liked to say more but felt uncomfortable doing so with Teresa in the room. He turned to the girl to inquire "Are they waiting for me?"
Teresa nodded and turned to Maria. "Give us five minutes, Maria."
"Si, Miss Teresa." Maria said nodding as she turned back to her preparations.
Scott put his arm around Teresa's shoulders and asked, "Shall we?" They walked out of the kitchen.
In the dining room, Scott quickly noted that the place at the end of the table, opposite Murdoch, was set. He sat there, since Chad was now occupying Scott's accustomed seat across from Teresa and Johnny.
The conversation over the meal centered on the recent branding of the herd. Murdoch had been none too pleased when Scott had announced that he was planning to be away for part of that major undertaking, but Chad had filled in fairly well, and there were numerous other projects in the works, including the fencing of a new pasture area. After carefully interrogating Johnny and Chad about the final day of branding, Murdoch immediately began outlining the preparations that were necessary before the task of fence construction could get underway.
At the start of the meal, Maria and Juanita had carried out the platters of food and served portions to each of the family members. From time to time, one of the women would reappear in the dining room to replenish a dish or to remove an empty bowl. When Murdoch finally concluded his talk about fence posts and wiring and the various tools needed to outfit the work crews, he requested that Scott pass him the mashed potatoes. Johnny looked at his brother and noted that the platters and serving dishes seemed to have congregated at Scott's end of the table: "See, I told ya Maria was afraid you'd starved."
After the meal, the family adjourned to the Great Room. Murdoch settled down with a book and Chad and Johnny set up the board for a game of checkers. Teresa finally had the opportunity to ask Scott some questions about his trip to Sacramento. Scott had just started to describe the case that his friend Will had been working on, when Jelly came in, hoping for a game of chess with Johnny. Seeing that the younger man was occupied, the grizzled horse wrangler settled down to watch the checkers match, greeting Scott as he did so. "So, ya decided ta come back, didya? Get tired of the big city?" "Hello, Jelly," Scott replied with an amused look. "I was just telling Teresa about my activities there."
"I bin ta Sacramento. Like ta stay as far from them gov'ment types as I can."
"Well, my friend Will is a lawyer. . ."
"They's too many of them too," Jelly decreed.
"I considered becoming a lawyer once myself, Jelly," Scott informed him.
"But ya didn't now didya? Neva said ya weren't smart." Jelly folded his flannel-clad arms across his vest and focused his attention on the checkers competition.
Scott resumed his account of life in Sacramento, telling Teresa about a concert which he had attended there with his friend Will. Will Hayford was a fellow Bostonian, a childhood friend of Scott's, who had also attended Harvard. Like Scott, a Union Army veteran, Will had come West seeking a change of scenery and had joined a Sacramento law firm only a few months previously. Although the young men had exchanged letters, the recent visit had been their first opportunity to meet in person since Scott had left Boston two years previously.
Hearing about the concert reminded Teresa of the church social, with its promise of musical entertainment. She described the upcoming event and then informed Scott of the identity of some of the local talent. "Chad is going to sing some songs from Kentucky . . and play the mandolin."
"Is that right?" Scott responded. "Well, that should be . . . interesting."
"Scott, do you play any musical instruments?" she inquired.
"Teresa, I spent untold hours taking piano lessons when I was a boy," was his response, shaking his head at the memory.
Waiting for Chad to make a move in the checkers game, Johnny had been listening to the last part of the conversation between his brother and surrogate sister. When Scott mentioned piano lessons, Johnny interjected a quick question: "You any good?"
Scott shrugged slightly. "I suppose I wasn't too bad." Then he added: "I do have the hands for it," holding up two large ones. "Long fingers. "
"So what kind of music did you play?" Teresa asked him.
"Oh, mostly classical pieces-- Mendelssohn was always one of my favorite composers. I'm not sure that I could play any of them now. It's been a long time."
Chad moved one of his red checkers forward, then added his own comment. "Wall, in Kentucky we laike to play music ya kin dance ta, not just sit still an' lissen."
Scott was saved from having to respond to Chad's remark when Johnny let out an exclamation and jumped over two of his opponent's pieces. "King me!"
"Don't look too good fer ya, Chad," Jelly observed.
Teresa left the room for a moment and Scott sat back to casually observe the checkers game as the play continued. He was surprised to see that his brother, who had become a more than fair player at chess, had left himself dangerously open. Scott watched more attentively, expecting Chad to take advantage of the situation. Instead, Chad pushed one of the red pieces into a position that allowed Johnny to swiftly and easily defeat him. Scott noted his brother's expression of disbelief, then delight, as he declared his victory. Chad looked crestfallen, but for some reason Scott had the impression that their "cousin" had deliberately allowed Johnny to win the game.
Gesturing for Chad to relinquish his spot, Jelly commented on the play. "Don't know what you was thinkin' there. Not much, I guess, " Jelly said, shaking his head. Chad shook his own head ruefully. "He sure got me agin," he observed as he eased out of his seat. Jelly and Johnny set to work arranging the checkers on the board.
"So Scott, do ya play checkas a'tall?" Chad asked as he settled into the spectator position that Jelly had just vacated.
"I do," was the response. "But I really prefer chess."
"Yeah, I kinda thought that."
Teresa came back into the room, resumed her seat on the couch beside Scott and asked a few more questions about his visit with Will Hayford: "So will your friend ever come here and visit us at the ranch?"
"As a matter of fact, he's just finishing up a case this week and may have the opportunity to visit very soon. I have invited him."
"You knew him in Boston, is that right?"
"That's right, Will and I grew up together. He was a few years older, and he and his family lived nearby."
Murdoch looked up at that remark. "I understood that your friend was an army veteran. I assumed that you served with him."
"So we got us anutha Yankee comin'?" asked Chad with a grin.
Scott responded to Murdoch's inquiry: "I've known Will a very long time-he was very much like an older brother to me. And he did serve during the War, but not in the cavalry. He was a captain in the Infantry.
Johnny had looked sharply up at the word "brother", but asked a different question: "So what were you?"
Scott carefully considered his younger sibling, not immediately certain exactly what he was asking. Finally, "A lieutenant," Scott responded, in a somewhat reluctant tone. His experiences during the War were not something that he spoke about very often, and only rarely had he referred to them amongst his family.
Chad whistled and Johnny grinned and gave his older brother a friendly mock salute. Jelly gruffly informed Johnny that he better be concentrating a little harder or he'd be surrendering pretty quick.
Once the game was concluded, Johnny stretched and yawned and announced that he was turning in. "We got that ditch to finish tomorrow," he reminded Chad. Murdoch nodded his assent, observing that the project needed to be completed the next day. "And Scott, you might do some work on the books tomorrow. Since you've been away, I haven't had any time to work on them." "I'll take care of it, sir", Scott replied, choosing to overlook the faint hint of resentment in Murdoch's words.
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CHAPTER 3
A few days later, Johnny, Scott, Chad and some of the hands rode out to work on fencing in the new pasture. Once they arrived at the site, Scott immediately set about giving the men their assignments for the day.
"Boy, Johnny, you kin sure tell who's gonna give th'orders when Murdoch's not aroun'." Chad murmured under his breath to Johnny, shaking his head.
Johnny frowned at Chad's statement, "What d'ya mean?"
Chad nodded his head toward the men. "See how they're all goin' off in pairs? Scott matches 'em up,--he's makin' sure that th'ones that he thinks ain't so likely ta work hard are workin' with one a them that gits the job done." Chad looked at his cousin and smiled. "Now, when you run a crew, you jus' tell em what needs ta be done and let 'em go do it."
Johnny observed Scott closely, waiting until he was finished with the men. Normally, none of this would have bothered him, but he could see that Chad was right. Scott had just jumped right into army mode or something and started assigning everyone his duty for the day. Leaning against a tree, Johnny played with the string on his hat as he waited impatiently for his brother, good ol' Scott "Lieutenant" Lancer, to get around to him.
Finally, Scott did turn his attention to Johnny and Chad, who were standing together by the tree near their horses. Striding over to them, Scott gave Johnny a smile.
"You ready to go to work?" Scott asked as he pulled his gloves on.
"Just waitin' for you to get to me with my orders." Johnny said in a slightly irritated tone. He pushed away from the tree. "What do ya want Chad and me ta do?"
Scott started to speak and stopped, considering Johnny's comment. He wondered if perhaps he had come across as too commanding. He knew that the men often didn't respond to that very well.
Instead of answering Johnny right away, Scott turned to Chad, pointing to the nearest pile of fence posts and wiring. Similar stacks were already positioned, spaced evenly along the proposed fence line. "This isn't even half the material we're going to need to get this job done. Chad, why don't you head back to the barn and get some more posts and wiring. By the time…"
"Now I was thinkin', Scott, maybe you should go get the supplies." Johnny said interrupting his older brother. "I'll work with Chad, that'll give ya a chance to catch up, you havin' been on vacation and all."
Scott started to object but thought better of it. He really didn't want to argue with Johnny in front of anyone, even Chad. It seemed that his brother was already annoyed with the way that he'd handled the crew so Scott decided that perhaps it would be better to just do as Johnny had suggested and go back after the supplies himself. Without another word, the older sibling nodded and headed quickly towards his horse. He mounted Brunswick and then watched as his younger brother and Chad headed out with the rest of the work crew. Scott pulled on the reins and spurred the chestnut back towards the Hacienda.
As Scott rode along at a moderate pace, he realized that it would take Johnny and the others most of the morning to use up the materials on hand, and therefore there was no real need to hurry. He had ample time to get more supplies and return to the work site. Cresting the hill, he looked over the expanse of land which was Lancer, took a deep breath and sighed. This really was one of the "most beautiful places in the whole wide world." He smiled as he recalled the day that he and Johnny had first arrived at the ranch. Teresa had referred to it as such, when she'd stopped to show them their father's land from the perspective opposite this one; it had truly been a spectacular view.
His initial interactions with his brother, on the other hand, had been far from spectacular. Over time, that had changed significantly. As they'd gotten to know each other, the two had become quite close, and, despite their many differences, the young men had generally gotten along surprisingly well. Scott was puzzled and concerned as to why he and Johnny didn't seem to agree on very much lately. But perhaps that was to be expected. After all, they had come from such very different ways of life.
Following his mother's death, Scott had been raised from infancy by his maternal grandfather in Boston, Massachusetts. Harlan Garrett was a wealthy man, and had been able to provide his only grandson with many advantages. In addition to his grandfather's loving guidance, Scott had received a fine education and had enjoyed the opportunity to travel. Prior to his military service, Scott's life had been filled with many positive experiences, although he had often wondered about his father's absence from his life.
Scott crossed the stream, turning south towards the ranch. Johnny's story on the other hand was very different. Maria, Murdoch's second wife, had apparently packed up one night and fled the ranch, taking her baby with her. Johnny's mother had left her son an orphan at a young age; his formal education had evidently been spotty and Johnny had grown up in the area around the Mexican border. Murdoch Lancer had spent a lot of time and money trying to find his younger son, without success--at least not until two short years ago, when a Pinkerton agent had finally tracked him down.
In contrast, Murdoch had always known where Scott was, but for reasons which were still unclear, he had left his elder son in Boston. Scott sometimes wondered what life would have been like if things had been different-if the two brothers had met sooner, had even been raised together. He smiled to himself now, shaking off the thoughts of "what if". The fact of the matter was that he and Johnny were just two very different people and it was inevitable that they would clash on certain subjects. One example of their dissimilarity was that his younger brother had a tendency to be more relaxed and flexible and to live for the moment while Scott was more methodical, he preferred that things were done in an orderly fashion; he liked to have a plan. It really wasn't surprising at all that the two siblings didn't always get along perfectly; it would be quite unrealistic to expect that the two strong-willed young men would always agree.
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A few hours later, Scott returned to the work area driving a buckboard laden with supplies. The young man watched approvingly as the scattered members of the work crew toiled on the fence line. Scott jumped down from the wagon, grabbed a basket off of the seat and walked over to where the first pair of men were hard at work. Frank, a tall black man originally from Pennsylvania, and a veteran employee, was working with Andy, one of the newer hands. The two men looked up and then paused in their labors, reaching for their canteens as Scott approached. Expecting to receive some new instructions, they were pleasantly surprised when Scott lifted the lid of the basket, revealing freshly baked biscuits and a jar of jam which Teresa had provided. Frank greeted Scott and Andy grinned appreciatively as he helped himself to the welcome refreshment. Scott knew that Frank was extremely reliable. As a former soldier himself, having served in one of the Negro Regiments during the War, the older man was more than familiar with the chain of command. Andy, the new hire, seemed to be an affable young man. So far he had been content to follow the lead of the more experienced hands, while still pulling his weight. There was no question that the fresh biscuits were welcome and would help keep the men going until Jelly arrived with the chuck wagon at noon. After assisting Frank and Andy in unloading their share of the new fencing materials, Scott continued along the line. Each pair of men responded enthusiastically to the food that accompanied the additional supplies. Noticing how hard the men were working, Scott made a point of complimenting each pair on a job well done.
When he got to Johnny and Chad however, Scott immediately recognized that they had made comparatively less progress. Chad, bareheaded, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, was holding a post upright, while Johnny filled in around it with dirt. If this was what they had been doing all along, then it was no small wonder that they hadn't progressed as rapidly as the other men. Like most of the men, Johnny was more than capable of holding his own post and packing the dirt in around it. Johnny was usually one of the hardest working members of any crew. Chad should have been stringing the wire around each post while Johnny moved on to set the next one. Seeing the disgruntled expression on his younger brother's face, Scott decided to refrain from comment. He casually inquired, "So how is it going?" as he handed Johnny and Chad the basket containing the remainder of the biscuits.
"Movin' right along, Scott," was Chad's reply as he grabbed for a biscuit and hungrily wedged most of it into his mouth. "Ain't that right, Johnny?" "That's right, Chad," was the dark-haired man's quiet response. Johnny reached for a biscuit of his own and then proceeded to methodically spread some of Teresa's preserves over the crusty surface. He did not look at Scott.
Scott frowned. He set about unloading the last of the posts from the wagon bed, even though Johnny and Chad still had quite a few left in their pile. It seemed clear to him that Chad was holding Johnny up rather than helping him. Scott wondered now whether Johnny didn't let Chad get by with a lot because of what had happened to Callie. He noticed that their "cousin" was sitting under the shade of a tree, eating another biscuit, while Johnny, bare-chested and perspiring, was already back at work. Scott carried a post down the line; Johnny was intent upon his task and did not look around when his older brother approached.
Setting the post down on the ground, Scott straightened and regarded the younger man with a concerned expression. Slowly, Scott lifted the strap of his canteen off of his shoulder, removed the lid and took a drink. "So . . ." he started to say, and finally Johnny stopped shoveling and looked up at him. As he handed over the canteen, Scott couldn't help quietly commenting. "It does seem to be going more slowly than usual," and then winced inwardly at his own words.
Johnny took a drink from the canteen, seemingly undisturbed by his brother's remark. "Yeah, it's a hot day. I was thinking maybe Chad should go after the next load and you can work with me. Give 'im a break."
Scott resisted the urge to say something critical about Chad. To be fair, he hadn't been out here all morning and it could be that Chad had been doing his share of the work; perhaps it only seemed as if Johnny had had to carry the load.
Scott glanced over at Chad and back at his younger brother. "All right. Whatever you think best."
Johnny leaned on the shovel, turning to Chad, "Hey Chad, why don't you take the wagon back and pick up some more supplies. Jelly should be headin' out here the same time as you to bring lunch."
Chad looked uncertain. "Wall . . okay, sure, Johnny. If'n that's what ya want me ta do." After looking from one brother to the other, Chad got up reluctantly and wandered towards the wagon. The big Kentuckian slowly clambered up into the buckboard seat. Taking up the reins, he managed to turn the team and headed off towards the hacienda.
"Let's get to work then, Boston." Johnny said smiling and punching Scott lightly on the shoulder. "Don't want to look bad in front of the hands now do we?"
For the next hour, the brothers worked steadily in a companionable silence. Scott dug the holes, put the posts in and filled around them with dirt while Johnny strung the fence line. As Scott methodically pushed the shovel into the ground he wondered what would be the best approach to take in talking to his brother about Chad. Chad had been at the ranch for a while now, and the young man still didn't seem to be fitting in. The elder Lancer had a feeling that if Chad was really trying his hardest, then the Kentuckian simply did not have what it took to be a rancher. As he piled the dirt beside the hole and then brought up another shovel full, Scott glanced over at Johnny who was running the wiring around the previous fence post. He shook his head. Johnny seemed to be very protective of their "cousin". Maybe it would be best if he spoke to Murdoch about Chad.
Johnny took a break and stretched, his muscled torso glistening in the sun. Reaching for his canteen, he took a sip of water and then paused for a moment and watched his older brother at work-- sleeves rolled up, beige shirt untucked and partially unbuttoned, the fabric darkened with sweat. Scott sure had come a long way since his early days at Lancer. He had been a "city boy", a "greenhorn" back then. Thanks to his military experience, the Bostonian could ride and shoot and was comfortable being in charge. He also excelled at bookkeeping and actually seemed to enjoy handling the accounts. But Scott hadn't known the first thing about real ranch work. A few aspects of ranching had been new to Johnny too, of course, but he had been somewhat familiar with most of the tasks and had tried to advise and encourage Scott when he'd needed it. It hadn't always been easy for the elder brother to accept that support, but Scott had demonstrated a desire to learn and a determination to succeed, even when things hadn't gone well for him. Initially, he'd had difficulty with some of the new skills that he'd attempted, but with patience and perseverance Scott had turned into one of the better ranch hands the dark haired Lancer had ever known. He frowned when he thought about Scott's lack of patience with their cousin. All Chad needed was some time and someone to help him--just as Scott had. Johnny picked up the fencing wire and started to attach some more to the next post.
"The rate we're going we'll have this pasture fenced in by the end of the week," Johnny commented glancing at his brother.
Scott paused, looking down the distant line of men hard at work. "Yes, we will, as long as everyone keeps busy."
"Some people just work faster than others, I guess."
"And some men work harder than others," was Scott's smooth rejoinder.
Johnny bristled slightly, "Sometimes it takes a while to learn something new. Took you some time, I seem ta recall."
Scott nodded, "That's true," he said mildly. He was about to make a direct observation about Chad, but to his surprise, it was Johnny who finally referred to their cousin by name. Johnny stood staring down at the canteen that he was still holding in his hand. "I heard from Chad that you were gonna bring 'im back some books from Sacramento," he said carefully, then looked at Scott, waiting for a reply. When his brother, leaning on his shovel, nodded in the affirmative, Johnny continued. "You know, Scott, some folks who don't have much book learnin' don't like bein' reminded 'bout it."
"I suppose you're right," Scott said slowly, then picked up his shovel and returned to his task. He couldn't help wondering whether his brother was speaking just for Chad or for himself as well. He was uncomfortably aware that he had stepped on his younger brother's toes upon occasion, whenever he'd made the mistake of blandly assuming that Johnny was familiar with things that Scott remembered from his own studies. Hearing a footstep, he looked up to see that Johnny was now standing only a few paces away. The younger man looked down at his work gloves as he slowly removed them. "I'm wonderin' what you got against Chad," he said softly.
Scott sighed. He knew that this was a fair question, and he'd been asking himself the same thing. Then this morning, as he was driving the buckboard back from the hacienda, the answer had come to him. Resting his gloved hands on the top of the shovel handle, Scott gazed off towards the distant mountains. "I suppose that it may be that he reminds me of someone . . . ."
Holding his work gloves in one hand, Johnny folded his arms across his bare chest and waited quietly to see if Scott would say anything more.
"There was a guard named Carter . . . he was almost affable when his superior officers were around. But at times he was quite . . . brutal."
Back when former lieutenant Dan Cassidy and his "friends" had shown up looking for Scott, Johnny had been amazed to learn that during the War his brother, the "pampered city boy", had spent a year in a notorious Confederate prison camp. Even worse, Scott had been the sole survivor of a doomed escape attempt, and wrongly accused by Cassidy and others of being a traitor. In the days following Cassidy's departure, there had been moments when Johnny had glimpsed a haunted look in his brother's eyes and it had been painfully obvious that Scott had no desire to talk about his experience. It had been almost a year and a half since then, and Johnny still didn't know any more details about his brother's military service or his time in Libby Prison. Now it took Johnny a moment to realize that Scott was volunteering information on the very topic which they had avoided for so long.
His older brother looked down at the ground, then met Johnny's eyes with his customary direct gaze. "There's no real physical resemblance between them, but the accent's the same. Perhaps Private Carter was from Kentucky."
Johnny still could only hazard a guess at the sort of treatment that Scott might have received at the hands of this Private Carter and others, but he was dismayed to think that his brother might hold it against Chad simply because he sounded like one of those guards. "Well, we're here now," Johnny ventured in what he hoped was a sympathetic tone, and watched as all the expression on Scott's face drained away. The older man picked up his shovel and turned away as Johnny added lightly, "You sure don't need to worry 'bout Chad; I mean, if I was you, I sure wouldn't lose any sleep over 'im, Boston."
At that last remark, Scott turned back towards Johnny, his face a mask, his eyes cold. "I'm not 'worried' about him. But I'm not certain that he's as simple as he appears to be." Turning away, Scott headed towards the spot where Brunswick was tethered, quickly putting distance between his younger sibling and himself with just a few long strides.
Johnny kicked at the ground, while mentally kicking himself for his choice of words. From spending time with his brother out on the trail, he was well aware that the man didn't sleep all that well at night. Once he'd learned of Scott's wartime imprisonment, the cause of the frequent nightmares had seemed evident. Not that they'd ever spoken about them at all. Of course, the last time Scott had woken him in the night, Johnny had heard his elder sibling say something about a gun; he'd caught the name "Drago" too.
As he slowly bent down and picked up his shirt, Johnny recalled that Scott had revealed only a very few details of his captivity at the hands of Drago and his crew. Johnny understood from Murdoch and Jelly that the outlaw had somehow been convinced that Scott was the gunfighter, "Johnny Madrid". When Drago and the girl Violet had finally been apprehended, Johnny had ridden into town with Murdoch to file the complaint against them. That Drago sure was a piece of work; with Murdoch standing right there, he'd actually complimented Johnny on his "daddy" and how much "spunk" he had. But then the man had added, "Much as I've heard 'bout you Johnny, you'd have a ways ta go ta match that brother of yours."
Evidently, after Murdoch and Jelly had attempted to sabotage the Gatling gun, Drago's man Chapel had decided to test the machine, using Scott for target practice. Johnny and Murdoch had listened in stunned disbelief as the loquacious Drago had gone on and on about the "damned miracle". The outlaw confided that he'd wanted to find out if the blond man--- who he at the time still believed to be Johnny Madrid--- would stand tall in the line of fire or fall to his knees "when the time came." Shaking his head in wonder, Drago had repeated a phrase, not once but twice: "I guess no man really knows, til his time comes." That's what Scott had said, according to Drago at least, and Johnny could almost hear just exactly how his brother would have spoken those words. The gun had dispensed its hail of bullets and at the end, somehow, Scott had still been standing. Johnny had been amazed to hear Drago's story. The account had made an even stronger impression on Johnny because he'd come very close to having a similar experience. When he'd finally been located by the Pinkerton agent that Murdoch had sent to track him down, Johnny had been about to face a firing squad. Kneeling on the ground, waiting for his turn, Johnny's worst fear had been that his body might betray his will, that his knees might buckle, "when the time came". Then the Pinkerton man had arrived and Johnny had never actually stood in the line of fire. But Scott had . . .
With Drago's account echoing in their ears, the ride back to the ranch had been a quiet one. Neither Murdoch nor Johnny had said anything about the outlaw's tale, not even when they dismounted and walked side by side to stand and contemplate the wall. They had simply stared at the pattern of holes edging the spot where Scott must have been, neither of them addressing the other, although Johnny had allowed a Spanish epithet to escape his lips. Murdoch Lancer had wasted no time in directing some of the men to make repairs to the damaged wall.
And Scott had refused to testify against Drago and Violet. Johnny shook his head as he slowly slid his sweaty arms into his shirt. Scott had helped Dan Cassidy too, protected him from the other ex-soldiers, Lewis and Hardy, even though the man had traveled three thousand miles to kill Scott for something that Cassidy himself had inadvertently done--betray the escape attempt. Well, Murdoch had called it "compassion"; Johnny hadn't been sure what to call it at the time, but the word "loco" had been one which had come to mind. It seemed that ever since he'd known him, his brother had been quick to help people, even when they didn't seem to deserve it. Scott always seemed ready to give a man---or a woman---the benefit of the doubt, although he'd had ample reason to regret it more than once. But Scott usually persisted in helping whoever it was regardless. Which just made it more disturbing that Scott didn't seem to be able to do the same for Chad. Their cousin was too young to have fought in the War, but he was from the South . . . <<Well, I guess every man has his limits>> Johnny thought, <<maybe even my big brother.>>
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Determined to avoid getting into an argument with Johnny about Chad, Scott walked swiftly away from his younger brother. Johnny's words followed him, repeating themselves in his head, <<I sure wouldn't lose any sleep over 'im, Boston.>>
Scott knew that his brother couldn't have helped noticing the frequent disturbances in his sleep, but he had appreciated the younger man's discretion in thus far refraining from comment. Perhaps it was inevitable that something would be said eventually. Scott removed his hat and wiped the damp hair from his brow with a gloved hand before settling the hat back once more on the crown of his head. He was feeling especially tired today; Private Carter had in fact invaded Scott's sleep the night before, which he realized was probably why he'd finally made the connection between his memories of the prison guard and his attitude towards Chad.
He could hardly feel proud of himself if the basis of his negative view of their Lancer cousin was simply that he came from the South. <<But there's more than that . . . >> Scott ruefully recognized that part of his resentment of Chad might possibly stem from his observation of Johnny's relationship with the younger man. Johnny and Chad did seem to be spending a great deal of time together. Despite what he'd said just now, Scott did view Chad as "simple"; there was certainly nothing sinister about him, unless it was his propensity to "throw" checkers games . . .
Scott approached Brunswick and absently stroked the chestnut's neck before removing the gun belt that he had hung on the pommel of his saddle. When Johnny was at work, he often preferred to be free of the confining fabric of whichever shirt he was wearing, but his gun belt always remained in position, slung low across his hips. Scott, on the other hand, was always ready to be unencumbered by the weight of a gun. Holding the holster in one hand, he used the other to slip the ends of his shirt into the waistband of his pants before wrapping the gun belt around his hips. He was suffering from a lack of sleep, it was a hot day and he was hungry. Johnny must be too, and they both had been pushing themselves very hard, an unspoken agreement between them that they would try to make up for the ground lost by Johnny and Chad earlier in the day--they'd made good progress too. Scott told himself that any one of those factors would explain why he had heard a disparaging tone in the name "Boston", why his brother's fond nickname had rankled a bit just now.
Not that he was ashamed to be from Boston, not by any means. His home city had much to recommend it . . But when he had first arrived out West, Scott had learned quickly that hailing from a city, being from "back East", even possessing a formal education, none of these things were likely to be considered points in one's favor, but rather black marks against a man so identified. The Bostonian had come to enjoy his new life out West; he relished the challenges, the hard work, the sense of belonging to a family. But he did occasionally miss the familiar faces and well-known streets of his home city. Scott had to admit that it had been very pleasant to spend some time in Sacramento with a good friend from "back home". Perhaps he needed to do a bit more of that . . .
A far off sound caught his attention and, looking over Brunswick's back, Scott could see Jelly approaching with the chuck wagon, followed by Chad driving the buckboard. Even from this distance, he could see that the supply wagon was not filled to capacity. Scott sighed and resolved to refrain from voicing criticism. Chad could simply head back again after the crew had finished with lunch. Scott glanced over towards Johnny, who was just finishing buttoning up his shirt.
"There's Jelly," he offered.
"Guess I'm hungry enough to eat no matter what he's fixin'", was Johnny's drawling response.
Scott nodded his assent. "So am I."
"Well, what are we waitin' for?" Johnny asked with a grin. The brothers mounted and rode off to join the others.
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