CHAPTER 4A
Carefully carrying a rimmed tin plate filled with Jelly's hearty stew, Scott found a seat on the ground under some trees, near Andy, the new hand, and young Walt. Dark haired Walt was a local boy. His father, a solidly built man with prematurely white hair, shared the name Walt and was also employed at the ranch. Scott first chatted briefly with Walt and was asking Andy a few questions, trying to find out how things were going for the recent hire, when Johnny joined the group.
After a few joking comments about Jelly and his cooking, the four men lapsed into a short silence as they concentrated hungrily on the food. Once the edge had been taken off of his appetite, Johnny slid a question of sorts over to his brother, "So this friend of yours in Sacramento, tell me 'bout 'im."
"Will? We grew up together--though he's a few years older than I."
"Ya said he's a lawyer?"
"That's right. He specializes in criminal cases," Scott grinned at his brother, the former gunfighter. "So if you're ever seeking representation, I'd recommend him."
"Yeah? Thanks," was Johnny's response, causing Scott to smile even more broadly down at his stew. Andy was bewildered by the comment, but Walt was amused. He was familiar with the easy relationship between the two Lancer brothers, and also knew something of Johnny's past. Walt had witnessed the ex-gunslinger in action versus Sam Stryker's boy, before the young ranch hand had himself fallen victim to one of the elder Stryker's bullets. Speculation about the career of Johnny Madrid was rife among the Lancer employees; they often compared notes about the known facts as well as the myriad other details which they merely believed to be true. But none of them had ever questioned Johnny directly or even made reference in his presence to what they thought they knew about his past. Scott Lancer was the only one who ever did that.
"While I was in Sacramento, Will was just finishing up a very interesting case, a murder trial. But his constant complaint is that the legal profession entails a great deal of routine paperwork----divorces, deeds, wills, tax documents . . ."
"You got a will, Boston? Cause you might need one some day," Johnny said darkly.
Scott reflected that it had been too long since he'd enjoyed this type of easy banter with his younger brother. That nickname, "Boston", sounded good too. It was amazing, the difference in one's attitude that a little food and a bit of shade could make. "Don't worry, I'm well prepared," was Scott's response. "Will is drawing one up for me."
Johnny set his almost empty plate on the ground beside him and leaned contentedly back against a tree trunk, settling his hat over his eyes. "Good ta hear it. So what 're ya leavin' me?"
"Oh . . A photograph of myself." Seeing Johnny grin under the shade of his hat brim, Scott continued in the same vein. "A hairbrush. And a few books. Some clothes." Johnny rolled his eyes at that, not that anyone could see. "My trust fund," Scott added, and immediately wished that he hadn't brought that up.
"What's a trust fund?" Johnny asked, raising the brim of his hat so that he could look at his brother.
"Oh . . It's . .well, it's money that was left to me by my mother and grandmother."
Skirting the more sensitive aspects of this piece of information, Johnny simply inquired, "So, how much?"
Aware that Andy and Walt were silently listening to this conversation, and in any event, reluctant to discuss the topic of his personal finances, Scott avoided specifics. "More than enough--- thanks to my grandfather's prudent investments."
"That mean I'll never have ta work again?"
"Well, there is one minor legal technicality," Scott said dryly.
"What's that?"
"You need me out of the way first."
Johnny snorted at that. "That ain't no problem. I just gotta stop keepin' you out of trouble."
Johnny had to laugh at the annoyed look that flashed across his older brother's face. In retaliation, Scott turned to Walt and Andy and in a very serious tone informed them: "If anything happens to me, you two are witnesses." Walt nodded his head, "You got it. We won't let you down, Mr. Lancer."
Johnny noticed that the new man, Andy seemed pretty uncertain as to how to take this conversation, and decided that it was about time to change the subject. "Time to get back to work," Johnny told his brother.
Scott got up slowly. He was already feeling the effects of those few hours of setting fence posts; it had been a good length of time since he had engaged in such strenuous physical activity, and the week spent in the city certainly hadn't helped. When he stumbled slightly, catching his foot against a tree root, Johnny was quick to shoot a comment at him: "Hey, don't hurt yourself, Boston. . . ". "Or if ya do, you just make sure it's Real Bad," he added with a laugh. When Scott straightened up from retrieving the spoon he'd dropped, Johnny caught his brother in a brief neck hold before the two of them headed over to return their utensils to the chuck wagon.
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It was Saturday night and the church social was in full swing. Playing with the Mexican bolo tie which Teresa had encouraged him to wear, Johnny watched as Chad prepared to perform yet another Kentucky tune. Johnny was not feeling altogether comfortable in his black dress pants and jacket, but as he looked around the room he could see that everyone else seemed to really be enjoying the evening. There were several other musicians, but it seemed that his cousin was the hit of the town social. Even Scott appeared to have enjoyed Chad's music.
His older brother hadn't stepped off the dance floor all evening; at the moment, he was twirling Corinna Cushman around the room, in time to Luke Hanson's fiddle music. Normally, Johnny would have been out there beside Scott, dancing with some pretty partner of his own, but tonight he'd wanted to be sure that no one was laughing at Chad. It hadn't been that long ago that many of these same people had been doing just that. Chad had met up with an old man named Otto Mueller. Otto had been convinced that he could build a machine that would allow a man to fly and Chad had believed him. His cousin had even taken time off from ranch work to help ol' Otto build his flying machine. At one point, Chad had even strapped on some wings that Otto had made and run through the countryside flapping them. Some of the ranch hands and a few other local residents had seen him, and the story had rapidly spread. Chad and Otto had been the laughing stocks of Morro Coyo for quite a while.
Well, Otto had finished building his machine, but before he could fly it he'd had a heart attack and died. Chad knew that Otto had devoted his whole life to proving that a man could fly, so he decided he would test Otto's contraption himself. Johnny had been able to see that the thing would never work, so he'd destroyed it in order to prevent Chad from killing himself. Chad had been very angry at first, but he'd come around, eventually. He'd understood that Johnny had just been looking out for him.
When the fiddle tune ended, Scott bid a smiling goodbye to his dance partner and then headed in Johnny's direction. Scott was wearing a pair of brown dress pants, matching jacket, and a white shirt with a string tie. Johnny noticed how the young ladies looked admiringly at his older sibling as he passed by. One thing about Boston, he sure cleaned up good.
"Chad's popular tonight, ain't he, Boston?" Johnny asked as Scott served himself a glass of punch from the nearby refreshment table and then came over to lean against the wall next to his brother.
Scott took a sip of his drink before answering Johnny. It seemed they'd finally found something Chad was good at. Too bad it didn't relate in any way to ranching.
"Yes, he is." Scott replied quietly watching as Chad made his way toward the makeshift stage. The young Kentuckian looked rather nice tonight. Following Scott's suggestion, he'd left his suspenders at home, and had worn a new shirt that Murdoch had bought him just for this occasion.
As the Lancer brothers stood side by side and listened, Chad began to play a song about a "witch woman". Johnny had heard him sing it more than once, but the tune was unfamiliar to Scott.
"Mountain tops are wearin' smoke in the land where I come from.
And that blue haze stays to this day from the guns of '21.
Mountain grow blue . . . . valley run red . . . . Witch Woman says.
Mountain stay blue . . . . valley stay red. 'Til the last of the feudin' kin lies dead.
Witch Woman says."
"Well, that was certainly a, ah, different sort of ballad," Scott ventured.
"Yeah, there's nothin' like a good feudin' song ta liven up a church social."
Scott grinned at his brother's response, but they were both uncomfortably aware that the tune had received noticeably less applause than Chad's earlier pieces. Evidently Chad recognized this as well, because he immediately began strumming another song, this time one which was well-known to many in the audience. Chad's lyric voice movingly carried each verse of "My Old Kentucky Home", while many of those present joined him in the chorus:
"Weep no more, my lady,
Oh! weep no more to-day!
We will sing one song for the old Kentucky Home,
For the old Kentucky Home far away."
This time the applause was very enthusiastic and there were calls for Chad to sing another song. Scott, however, recalled the remark which Chad had made to him, that in Kentucky they liked to "play music ya kin dance ta, not just sit still an' lissen." He was about to make a clever comment to Johnny about that, when Chad began his next piece. "Old Dan Tucker" was another familiar favorite, as well as a much livelier tune and therefore proved even more popular, especially with the couples that took to the dance floor. Chad concluded with short ditty entitled "Goober Peas". After coaching his listeners on the chorus, he launched into the lighthearted song:
"Sitting by the roadside on a summer day.
Chatting with my messmates, passing time away,
Lying in the Shadow, underneath the trees,
Goodness, how delicious, eating goober peas!
Peas! Peas! Peas! Peas! Eating goober peas!
Goodness, how delicious, eating goober peas!"
As the crowd shouted out the last lines along with him, Chad's smile was a yard wide. When he departed from the stage, it was with much praise and plenty of back slapping from the members of the audience.
Johnny was happy to see that his cousin was being so warmly received, although he didn't quite understand some of Chad's music. "Ain't never heard a song like that one before," Johnny said, shaking his head.
"I have."
"Yeah?" Somehow Johnny just couldn't picture his older brother singing a cheerful little song about peas.
"It's a marching song. It was used by the Confederate soldiers during the War."
Johnny didn't have an opportunity to reply to that information, as Chad drew near. Scott pushed himself away from the wall and went over to the nearby refreshment table. He returned with a glass of punch, which he handed to Chad. "You're very talented, Chad."
"Well, thank ya, Scott. Guess I noticed ya have some talents of yur own" Chad drained his glass and set it down. "Seems every purty girl in the room is lookin' at ya."
Before Scott could reply, a beautiful young woman approached the punch bowl. Chad quickly stepped over and poured her a glass of punch.
"Ah, would ya like ta dance?" Chad asked her nervously.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Emma Anderson replied with a smile. "I'd love to, but I promised this dance to Johnny." She turned and gazed up at Johnny who, although surprised by this announcement, was more than ready to take her arm.
"Sorry, Chad." Johnny said smiling at his cousin. "Maybe the next dance, huh?"
Scott and Chad stood against the wall together and watched as Johnny and Emma moved out onto the dance floor.
"Johnny shore can dance, cain't he?" Chad commented as Johnny and the young woman danced by them.
"Yes, he can." Scott commented. "It was difficult at first though. The dance steps here are a bit different from what he knew in the border towns and in Mexico. But Johnny's a quick learner."
"Ya know, Scott, it's shore funny when ya think on it. We all come from different parts of th' country and ways of life. You bein' a Yankee an' all. Yet we all seem ta' be fittin' in here jist fine. I'm mighty grateful that ya been so good 'bout me learnin' things. I know I ain't been a very fast learner."
Scott felt a twinge of guilt. He knew that if he was honest he hadn't been very patient with Chad at all. He'd decided early on that perhaps Chad just didn't have the drive to make it at Lancer. But Scott now realized that his negative feelings about the Kentuckian were, least in part, tied to his memories of the War, and to thoughts of that guard at Libby Prison. Deciding that it was time to give his cousin the benefit of the doubt, Scott pushed himself away from the wall once more.
"Come on, Chad." Scott said looking across the room. "I see a couple of young ladies who look like they would just love to dance. I'll introduce you."
"That's mighty kind of ya', Scott." Chad said following him across the floor. A few moments later, Scott, Chad and two very willing young ladies joined Johnny and his partner on the dance floor.
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CHAPTER 4B
As he set down his coffee cup, Murdoch Lancer looked around the table and smiled to himself. Teresa was chattering up a storm, going on and on about the previous evening's festivities, praising Chad's musical
performance and teasing Johnny and Scott about their popularity on the dance floor. It seemed that they had all had a good time. Waiting for a lull in the conversation, Murdoch looked from one of his children to the other. As he glanced around the table his gaze rested for a long moment on Scott. His eldest son was pushing his
food around on his plate, apparently lost in thought. The Lancer patriarch doubted that Scott was even paying the slightest attention to what Teresa was saying. His older son had been at Lancer long enough now for Murdoch to recognize what this meant. Scott had something he wanted to say; he was simply trying to figure out how to go about presenting it to the family.
"Something on your mind, Scott?" Murdoch asked, interrupting Teresa's chatter about the social.
"As a matter of fact, yes, there is," Scott said pushing his plate away. "I received a wire from my friend Will yesterday." He paused, and took a sip of his coffee. "He'll be arriving on the ten o'clock stage tomorrow." In a characteristic movement, Scott glanced briefly down at the tabletop, and then looked up and addressed the family members who were waiting expectantly. "I know that I mentioned that he fought in the War but there are a few things that I didn't tell you about Will."
When he had something important to say, Scott was usually very direct. When he hesitated once more, Johnny noticed it immediately and while carefully keeping his tone casual, he prompted his brother. "Yeah? What's that?"
"He was very seriously injured."
"What happened to him?" Teresa asked in a concerned voice.
Scott rested his elbows on the edge of the table, the fingertips of his two hands meeting in the space above his plate. "Will was in the 20th Massachusetts infantry. He fought in the Battle of Gettysburg. and served under Colonel Paul Revere-a grandson of the Revolutionary War hero. As in the `midnight ride'," he explained, glancing around the table. Seeing facial expressions that ranged from comprehension to confusion, he continued on. "The 20th played a key role in repelling the Confederate charge. . ." Scott realized that he was in
danger of digressing too far into battlefield history, sighed and then finally got to the heart of the matter. "Will was hit in the right arm . . .the damage was so extensive that the doctors had to amputate just above the elbow." Scott paused again, looked down at his coffee cup and then picked it up in both hands. "They told him he was lucky." Scott said quietly. "And, I guess in a way he was; over 23,000 Union soldiers died at Gettysburg. Forty of them were from the 20th, including Captain John Hayford, Will's older brother."
Murdoch finally broke the solemn silence. "From what I read, a lot of young men came back from the War minus a limb."
"Knowed a few men laike that back home." Chad volunteered.
Johnny was quiet, wondering about Scott's little history lesson; he also couldn't help thinking that the right hand, well, that was his gun hand . . . .
Scott pushed on. "Will lost his right eye as well . . . so he wears an eyepatch." "He's been able to adapt remarkably well, actually," Scott added, admiration for his friend evident in his voice. "I . . .well, I just didn't want you to be surprised by his appearance when he arrives. . ."
Ready to be finished with this topic of discussion, Johnny pushed his plate away. "So, what didya think we'd do Scott? Ask him all kinds of questions about his war injuries?" he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
Scott replied quietly, "No Johnny, I didn't. I just wanted you all to be prepared. While I was with Will in Sacramento, we encountered some people who were meeting him for the first time. They would try
to hide their surprise, but their facial expressions would give it away. It's a normal reaction."
"I think Scott's just trying to save us all from feeling uncomfortable." Teresa said, trying to soothe the tension between the brothers.
"Yeah," said Chad, nodding his head in between bites of biscuit. "Scott's jist lookin' out for his friend, tryin' ta' make sure he gits a warm welcome from alla us, them bein' like brothahs an' all."
"Well." Murdoch said unhappily. "It appears that Scott won't be available again tomorrow, so we'll put off the surveying until the next day." Scott winced inwardly as Murdoch put the emphasis on "again". He knew his father wasn't very happy that he'd gone to Sacramento in the first place and here he was already taking another
day off.
"I'll get to that surveying first thing Tuesday morning," Scott said stiffly.
"I'm hoping that having your….er….friend from Boston here isn't going to interfere with your work, Scott. That you won't be so busy taking care of him that you won't be able to do your share," Murdoch said
gruffly.
Scott sat back in his chair and looked directly at his father. "You don't have to worry, Murdoch. I can assure you that Will is quite capable of entertaining himself while I'm occupied."
Murdoch turned to Johnny and Chad, "Johnny, you and Chad can take some of the hands and move the cattle to the south pasture tomorrow. We'll worry about the surveying later in the week."
Johnny nodded, then turned to Teresa and asked her a question about a young neighbor with whom she'd shared a dance or two. Teresa blushingly denied that the young man had paid any particular
attention to her and Scott attempted to rescue her by interjecting a remark about Johnny and Emma Anderson. Johnny grinned wickedly and came back with a comment about a certain young woman named Corinna
and how much time Scott had spent dancing with her; how it was a good thing for him that Zee was no longer in town. While Chad looked on, even Murdoch became a focus of romantic speculation when the Widow
Hargis' name was mentioned . . .
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The next day, Scott stood outside the mercantile waiting impatiently for the stage to arrive. It figured that the stage was going to be late. Murdoch was already upset that Scott was going to be away from
the ranch this morning; it was now looking like it might turn into the whole day. Sighing, he walked to the corner of the building and looked down the street to see if the stage was coming. Nothing. He
removed his hat and then resettled it squarely on his head, before sitting down on a chair outside the store.
About ten minutes later, Scott heard the familiar rumble of the stage approaching. He slowly stood, pushing his hat back on the crown of his head, and watched as the stage pulled up. First, two giggling
young girls disembarked, with their mother right behind them, fussing at them to behave. Finally, he saw his friend exiting the coach. Will Hayford was a tall, broad shouldered man with curly brown hair. He
wore a patch to cover his missing right eye and the lower half of his right sleeve was folded and pinned to the shoulder of his jacket.
"Will, it's good to see you." Scott said with a smile. Placing his right hand on his friend's shoulder, Scott offered his own left hand, which Will grasped in a firm handshake.
"It's good to finally be here," Will said with a sigh, his brown eye showing the weariness of the lengthy time spent on the stage. The two young men watched as the driver and his outrider started unloading
the bags from the top of the coach.
Will grabbed one bag and set it aside on the ground near Scott's feet, then leaned over to pick up the heavier of his two cases.
"I'll get this one," Scott commented, picking up the smaller bag and leading the way down the sidewalk towards the surrey. "Are you hungry? Would you like to get something to eat before we head out to Lancer?" Scott knew that Murdoch wouldn't be pleased, but his good manners dictated that he at least offer to stop for lunch before they headed for the ranch.
Shaking his head, Will said smiling slightly. "No, that isn't necessary. I'm about an hour late and from what you've said about your Senora Maria, I'm sure she's got something planned for lunch."
"I'm sure she has." Scott reached for the work gloves that were resting on the handle of his holstered gun, and drew them on. He then lifted Will's luggage into the back of the surrey and untied the
horses' lead. The two friends climbed onto the seat and headed out of town.
En route to Lancer, Scott pointed out areas of interest and finally stopped at that vantage point from which the expanse of Lancer could be seen. He loved this view, it reminded him once more of that first
day, when Teresa had paused in this very spot and showed the newly met brothers their father's land. He had been awed then by the beauty of this scene; after all this time, he still often had to catch his breath at the sight.
"This is Lancer." Scott announced proudly.
Will got down from the surrey seat, grateful for an excuse to stretch the legs that had been confined to that bumping, rolling stagecoach for more hours than he cared to recall. Gazing out at the beauty of
this land, the faraway mountains, the scattered cattle, the men hard at work, the gleaming white hacienda in the distance, he shook his head. "All this time I've wondered why you would give up your life in Boston. I even agreed with your grandfather that you were insane to stay here, to have anything to do with Murdoch Lancer." He gestured at the scene with his good arm. "But I can perhaps begin to see it now."
Scott nodded his head not quite knowing how to respond. Of course, his long-time friend was well aware of Scott's youthful hatred for his father, the feelings of hurt and resentment that had been the result of the older man's neglect. Young Scott had certainly expressed his feelings strongly enough, whenever the topic of his father had come up. During his recent visit to Sacramento, Scott had tried to answer Will's many questions about his new-found family. But there were some things that were simply hard to explain, topics
which were difficult to discuss even with an old friend. Scott walked over and stood at Will's left side.
"When I came here," he said slowly, "it was with no expectation of staying. Simply to satisfy my curiosity." He paused searching for the right words. How could he explain why he'd stayed, when he didn't entirely understand it himself? "But…as I've told you, the ranch was under attack . . ." "I know," Will interrupted, "and you just leapt at the opportunity to play soldier once more." Scott looked up sharply at Will's disparaging tone, but his friend kept on speaking. "You risked being injured, risked your own life even, to help a man who'd never given you a second thought . . . " Instead of getting angry, Scott sighed and nodded. Will had already said as much to him during their earlier visit; then as now, Scott had to acknowledge that he simply had no logical explanation for his actions. "They were trying to run him off of this land, it .. it wasn't right." "And don't say it," Scott added holding up one hand. "What Murdoch did or didn't do all those years wasn't right
either, I know that better than anyone. But if I was ever going to get to know him at all, I had to stay. So I accepted a third of this ranch . . . ."
"And now, to the utter amazement of all of our good friends back East, you are a rancher!" Will gave his friend a genuine smile. "It's like a new world, a new way of life. And I must say that I envy you that." Then, turning to admire the view once more, he added, "And this."
"I like it out here."
"And now you finally have a father . . . and a brother as well, something you always wanted, growing up."
Scott nodded at the truth of that statement. Will might in fact envy him now, covet his "new way of life", or perhaps his friend was merely being polite. But when they were growing up together, it had been Scott who had envied Will Hayford. He could still recall how reluctant he had been whenever it was time to return home with his grandfather after spending a day in the hubbub of the Hayford household. Scott had practically been adopted by the Hayford clan, and by Will in particular. As the youngest of the three Hayford sons, Will had reveled in the opportunity to play big brother to little "Scotty" Lancer. Still, as close as Scott and Will had been,
nothing could match the bond that Will had shared with his middle brother, John.
And now Scott Lancer had a younger brother of his own. When Scott had first arrived in Sacramento, Will had had a great many questions about Johnny, and had been especially curious about his past as a notorious gunfighter. Johnny had again become a topic of discussion when Will had been at work drawing up the will. Now Scott expected his friend to steer the conversation in that direction once more; he was rather pleased when that was not the case.
Scott clapped Will on the shoulder. "Come on, Will. I'm anxious to introduce you to my family." They climbed aboard the surrey once again and headed down the road toward Lancer.
As they stopped in front of the house, Scott jumped down and called to one of the hands. Jose came over and took charge of the horses and the surrey, while Scott grabbed Will's bags. Host and guest then headed into the house. Scott set the cases down just inside the entry, and then led the way to the Great Room. There they found Murdoch Lancer at his desk, reading some letters. Johnny was ensconced on the couch discussing the afternoon's work with Chad who was seated across from him in a chair by the fireplace.
Scott walked into the room with Will and, removing his gloves, addressed Murdoch. , "I'm sorry, we're late," he said apologetically. "The stage was a bit behind schedule."
Murdoch looked up, frowning, "You're just in time, actually; Teresa is just seeing about getting lunch on the table." The elder Lancer stood and came around his desk.
Scott made the introductions. "Will, this is my father, Murdoch Lancer. Murdoch, my very good friend, Will Hayford."
Murdoch stepped forward and paused momentarily, until Will extended his left hand. The elder Lancer grasped it in his own and addressed the visitor in a serious tone: "It's nice to meet you, Will. Welcome to Lancer."
Will smiled politely, "Thank you, Mr. Lancer. It's good to finally see your ranch. Scott's told me so much about it."
Scott turned to Johnny, "And this is my brother, Johnny."
Johnny stood up and put his left hand out, "Hello, Will."
Will extended his hand rather slowly, his one eye examining Scott's brother very intently. "Johnny," he said, acknowledging the younger man with a nod. Relinquishing his grasp on Johnny's hand, Will then turned expectantly to face the third man in the room.
Scott gestured towards Chad, "And this is our ….cousin, Chad. From Kentucky." At the word "cousin", Will glanced at Scott with mild surprise. As Will once more offered his left hand, Chad reached towards the newcomer with his right.
"Oh, uh sorry." Chad mumbled in embarrassment, dropping his right hand and putting out his left hand to shake Will's. "It's real nice ta' meet ya' Will."
"Oh, Scott you're home!" Teresa exclaimed happily as she entered the room. "Lunch is ready!"
"And this is my father's ward, Teresa O'Brien." Scott said as Teresa approached them. "Teresa this is my friend, Will Hayford.
"It's very nice to meet you." Teresa said with a welcoming smile. "I've heard a lot about you from Scott."
"And I've heard a great deal about you, Miss O'Brien." Will said smiling in return. "But it's only now that I understand that when Scott was describing the beauty of this ranch, he was not referring solely to the scenery . ."
Teresa blushed, "Oh, Mr. Hayford…."
Abruptly, Murdoch interrupted, "We better sit down and eat lunch." Then, without looking at Scott, he added, "Johnny and Chad have work to finish this afternoon."
To Scott's annoyance, there was no mistaking his father's tone; it was quite clear to everyone in the room, including their guest, exactly what it was that Murdoch Lancer was implying. "And I'm going to go over the books later this afternoon while Will gets unpacked and settles in." Scott informed him quietly as they all headed into the dining room.
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CHAPTER 5
The frustration of having to go over the recent accounts for a third time was wearing on Scott. Something just wasn't adding up, but he was having great difficulty locating the discrepancy. He looked up briefly and nodded as Will Hayford entered the room. Scott noticed that his friend had changed into a dark green shirt and casual black pants and was glad to see that Will hadn't made the mistake of bringing only his business clothes. Reluctantly, Scott returned his attention to the pages of numbers before him. When he got halfway down the column, he finally found the error, and then set to work correcting it.
"Problems?" Will said walking towards the desk.
Scott looked up again. "Nothing major." He closed the book and sat back in the chair. "Are you all settled in?"
"Yes." Will said, changing course, and moving towards the big picture window. "This is a splendid view," he commented as he turned, looking at Scott. "Have you ever thought about hiring someone to do your books, keep your records? It would save you a lot of headaches."
Scott sat unconsciously playing with the pen in his hand. "Murdoch would never agree to that. He's very protective of this ranch and the finances. In fact, he insisted on personally teaching us how to do the books when we decided to stay."
"He taught you? Didn't you tell him that you went to Harvard?" Will asked.
Scott smiled. "Oh, he knows. But there's the Harvard way and Murdoch Lancer's way. You won't be here too long before you realize that at Lancer, it's Murdoch who calls the tune." Brief pause. "Or so he likes to think. Truthfully, we are all still trying to fine tune our three way partnership."
Will turned to look out the window once more. He frowned as he watched Johnny heading towards the house.
"Must have been pretty difficult for Johnny to learn to keep the books," Will commented speculatively.
"We've both had things to learn about life on a ranch," Scott responded quietly. "Johnny's still learning and so am I."
They both turned as they heard the front door slam. Johnny came walking into the Great Room, tipping back his hat, without removing it.
"Hey, Boston, where's Murdoch?" he demanded impatiently.
Scott sat up. "He went to a cattlemen's meeting in town. Is something wrong?"
"Nah, he told Cipriano he wanted ta see me before I left for the north pasture," Johnny replied, heading for the door. "Tell him I'll---"
"Johnny, wait a minute," Scott said, gesturing for him to come over to the desk. "While you're here, let me show you something."
Johnny reversed direction and walked over to stand beside his brother. Scott opened the book on the desk in front of him.
"You might try to be a bit more careful when you work on the books. Your writing here is hard to read and----" Pointing to a set of digits, Scott picked up a slip off the desk. "And here you transposed the numbers."
Johnny looked at Scott, then over at Will, and back at Scott again. He stood back with his arms crossed. "Well, that's pretty good, seein' as I don't know what that means."
"Transposed? It means that you altered the sequence…switched the numbers around."
"Well, if you don't like the way I do the books then why don't you stay home and do 'em? While you're traipsing all over California, I'm here doing your work and mine." Johnny replied coldly.
Disconcerted, Scott struggled to choke back his reply. He stared back at Johnny, who looked meaningfully at Will, and then stalked angrily out of the room.
"Johnny, I---"
Silently, Scott swore to himself. Another bad move. He had forgotten that though Will was like family to him, he was a stranger to the rest. He pressed his lips together as Johnny slammed the front door.
"Well, he seems to have quite a temper," Will said, breaking the silence that filled the room after the echo of the closing door faded away.
"He has a right to be angry, Will. I could have picked a better time," Scott said regretfully. "No one likes to be corrected in front of someone they don't know."
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Will and Scott were still in the Great Room when Dr. Sam Jenkins arrived a short time later. The local doctor had been paying a call on a family nearby and had stopped in to visit his old friend Murdoch Lancer. After introducing Doc Jenkins to Will, Scott extended to Sam the expected invitation to join the family for the evening meal, explaining that Murdoch was in town and that he would be back shortly.
Mealtime conversation was relaxed and far ranging. Murdoch recounted his discussion with his fellow cattlemen in town, Doctor Jenkins relayed news of the neighbors and Scott and Will shared the details of some of their activities during Scott's recent visit to Sacramento. Johnny and Jelly updated everyone on the day's accomplishments on the ranch. Teresa was still happy to reminisce about the church social, which prompted another round of compliments to Chad for his musical performance that evening.
When the meal was finally concluded, Sam Jenkins reluctantly pushed himself away from the table and voiced his intention of heading back to town. Will looked meaningfully at Scott, who promptly addressed the doctor: "Sam, before you go, perhaps you might help me out--- I need a witness to my signature on a legal document." As the rest of the seated company listened with curiosity, Scott explained about the will that his friend had drawn up for him. Dr. Jenkins readily assented, and then Scott turned to Chad. "Chad, would you mind being the second witness?" Despite the puzzled expression on his face, Chad nonetheless nodded his agreement. Will, Scott and the two witnesses withdrew to the other side of the room.
Will removed a set of legal documents from a folder and placed them on Murdoch's desk. As Sam and Chad watched, Scott affixed his flowing signature to the bottom of several pages, the crossing of the 'T's in his first name starting the large looping "L" of Lancer. Next it was Sam's turn to sign in the spaces which Will indicated. "So now, why're askin' me ta do this, Scott?" Chad inquired of his cousin, but it was Will Hayford who explained. "In order for Scott's will to be legal, there must be two witnesses to attest to the fact that he's signed it. And the witnesses should be people who are not beneficiaries."
"What's that? A bene . .?"
"A beneficiary is someone who stands to inherit property, or money, from the deceased."
"Oh. Well, you ain't fixin' ta be deceased any time soon, now are ya, Scott?"
"No, Chad, that's not my plan," Scott replied with an amused look. "I might not have even thought of having a will made if I didn't happen to have a very good friend who's a very good lawyer.
Chad slowly and painstakingly added his name to the document and then Will gathered up the pages. Johnny sauntered over. "Hey, Chad, how about if we ride on into town with Doc Jenkins here, see what's happening, have a few drinks?"
"Sure thing, Johnny," was the pleased reply. Sam Jenkins welcomed the prospect of the young men's company on the ride. . . . .
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"Elmer, pour us a couple beers will you?" Johnny asked as he and Chad walked into the saloon.
"Sure, Johnny," Elmer said reaching for a couple of mugs.
"Grab our beers Chad, and I'll get us a table," Johnny said heading for the back of the room. The habit of always having to have his back to the wall was hard to break and Johnny still liked to sit at a table located where he could see who was coming and going. As he sat down, Johnny looked around the room. A card game was going on in the corner, and he nodded at Jorge and Reese, two of his card playing buddies. Over to the left, Johnny noticed with a frown, Lumas and his buddy, Reno were sitting with some of their friends. Those two loved to pick on Chad, calling him, "Hilly Billy", among other names. Johnny glanced up as Chad sat down, and handed him his drink.
"Thanks, Chad," Johnny said appreciatively.
"It sure is slow in here ta nite' ain't it, Johnny?" Chad said glancing around.
"Well, most of the ranch hands around here don't come to town during the week. Sun up comes early enough as it is," Johnny replied, and then flashed a smile one of the saloon girls as she passed by with some drinks. "This is what I needed," he added with a soft sigh. "A little time for myself away from home."
"Yeah," Chad said grinning as he sipped at his beer. "I know what ya' mean. We shore been workin' hard lately-what with Scott bein' so busy an' all."
"Hey, Lumas!" Reno yelled from the table across the room. "Look, who's here. Johnny Lancer and his cousin, Hilly Billy."
"I thought I smelled somethin' funny a minute ago," Lumas said loudly laughing. "Hey Hilly Billy, how'd ya get to town? Did you come in your new flyin' machine?
"Ignore 'em, Chad," Johnny said quietly. "They're just trying to get us goin'."
"I know," Chad responded glancing over at the cowboys.
"Ya' know, Lumas, we shouldn't be pickin' on them Lancers," Reno said as he stood up and walked over to the bar. He leaned against the polished wood surface as he continued. "They're really nice people. They took in that cousin, what's his name?" Reno paused and then looked directly at Chad. "Oh, yeah, Useless." Reno laughed heartily at his own joke. "Anyway, I heard they took him in cause he's a bit touched in the head."
"You sayin' he's loony?" Lumas asked, laughing as he walked over to join his friend. "Everybody says he ain't the only Lancer that is."
"Let's get out of here." Johnny stood, and Chad followed suit. They started walking towards the door.
"Well, any woman who would marry ol'Murdoch would have to be plum crazy."
Johnny abruptly changed direction and walked over to the bar, hitting Reno squarely on the jaw and knocking him down. Lumas swung at Johnny, but Chad was there with his own fist, knocking Lumas down. Reno quickly regained his feet and his fist connected with the side of Johnny's face. Johnny immediately landed a solid punch into Reno's stomach. The poker players started hollering, cheering Johnny on. They quickly moved out of the way as Reno pushed Johnny into their table, money and poker chips going everywhere. Chad and Lumas continued to fight, matching each other punch for punch. Then Lumas grabbed a chair and swung at Chad, catching him across the arm.
Realizing that the fight was getting out of hand, Elmer ran outside, yelling for the sheriff. The four men continued their brawl, throwing chairs and punching each other. A few minutes later, the stocky, mustached, sheriff entered the saloon with a couple of his deputies. One deputy pulled Johnny off of Reno, while the other one separated Chad and Lumas.
Sheriff Sam Jayson walked over to the men shaking his head. He removed his hat, setting it on the bar and ran his hand through his graying sandy colored hair. "What happened?" he asked looking around at the overturned tables and broken chairs.
"He started it!" Reno shouted belligerently. "Lancer came at me."
Frowning, the round faced sheriff turned to the dark haired Lancer. "That true, Johnny?"
Johnny looked at Sam Jayson and then down at his boots. "Yeah, Sam, I hit him first." He looked at the saloon owner. "Sorry, Elmer. I'll pay for the damages."
Jayson turned to Elmer. "That okay with you?" Elmer nodded his head and the lawman addressed the four men. "I want you all to head home. And Johnny, I'll have Elmer make up a bill for me and run it out to the ranch when it's ready.
Johnny nodded, leaned over and picked his hat up from the floor. Chad and Johnny walked out of the saloon and headed for their horses.
En route to the ranch a few minutes later, Chad groaned at the pain in his arm as he turned in his saddle to look at his cousin. He addressed a morose comment to Johnny. "Yur pa's gonna be mighty sore when he finds out we busted up the place and now ya gotta pay for the damages."
"Don't worry, I can handle my old man," Johnny said wincing at the pain in his jaw.
They rode on a ways in silence. Johnny was wondering how he was going to explain this to Murdoch. The "old man" wasn't going to be happy, that was for sure, especially when Johnny had to ask for yet another advance on his wages to cover the bill. Johnny was trying to recall exactly how far in debt he was, when Chad's voice broke into his thoughts.
"So, Johnny, how come yur brother had a will made?"
Johnny shrugged. "I don't know, Chad. I think maybe his friend talked him into it."
"Well, do ya' know what he's leaving ya?" Chad asked interestedly. "I mean is he leavin' ya anythin' worthwhile?"
"Yeah, I know. He's leavin' me plenty," Johnny replied testily, clearly not really wanting to pursue the subject.
"Sorry, Johnny, I guess ya' jist don't' want ta' talk about it."
"My brother dyin' isn't anything I feel like talkin' about," Johnny said soberly.
"I kin understan' that Johnny, I surely can." Chad said. They rode the rest fo the way in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts.
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Late the next morning, Scott returned from completing his surveying task to find Johnny in the corral working with a horse and Will leaning with his good arm resting on the top of the fence rail, watching. Scott reined in Brunswick, dismounted and walked over to stand beside Will.
Will greeted him with a relaxed smile. "Hi Scott. Your brother's been demonstrating some of the finer points of breaking a wild horse."
Scott looked over at his younger sibling, but Johnny continued to work with the horse, without even glancing in Scott's direction.
"I was hoping that you'd find something to do while I was gone." Scott said in response to his friend.
"I would have gone with you, but you left pretty early."
Scott grinned at that. "Well, the day does start quite a bit earlier here than in Boston . . . or in Sacramento."
"So it appears," was Will's dry response.
"But since you're awake now, perhaps I can take you on that tour that I promised," Scott said warmly.
Will's expression eased a bit. "Sure, just give me a few minutes, " he replied and then headed for the hacienda.
Scott stood at the rail, removing his gloves as he once more regarded his brother. Johnny was still intent upon the horse. "So how's it going?" Scott asked.
Johnny looked around at that. Seeing his brother standing alone, Johnny released the animal, which quickly trotted to the far side of the corral. He strolled over towards Scott, shrugged and replied, "All right," in a tone that was difficult for the older sibling to decipher. Then he added, "Your friend sure asks a lot of questions."
At that, Scott shook his head and grinned again. "Asking questions is something he does well. Will's a lawyer, from a family of lawyers. And he doesn't really know anything about ranching."
Johnny looked directly at Scott, and speaking now with an undertone of anger, said "He sure seems ta know plenty 'bout me."
"What do you mean?" Scott asked carefully.
"I mean that my past is none a his business. I don't appreciate som'a th' things he was askin' me about." Johnny responded coldly.
Scott looked down uncomfortably. "Well, Brother, I don't know what to say."
"Well, Scott, it seems like maybe you said plenty already." Scott looked up sharply at that, but Johnny was already walking away. Scott stood for a moment with his hands on hips, looking at the ground and thinking.
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Later that afternoon, Scott, on Brunswick, allowed the white-footed chestnut to pick its way up the trail. Will was a few yards back, seated on Rambler. Scott had saddled his secondary mount for his friend, and they had set off on an afternoon's tour of the ranch. Will had never been much of a horseman, but so far the former infantry officer seemed to be managing fairly well, despite the disadvantage of having only one hand on the reins.
"If Harlan's associates could see you now, they'd never recognize you." Will commented. There certainly wasn't much left in Scott's appearance that reflected the Boston dandy he once was.
"They would probably feel sorry for my grandfather," Scott acknowledged, as he crested the rise and reined in his horse. "Spending all those years raising me in the 'proper' manner, preparing me to take over his business." Looking out over the view, he added, "And here I am in California."
"Wade is having a fine time in your absence," Will informed him. "He's acting like he's Harlan's grandson. Which I suspect he's always wanted to be."
With a short laugh, Scott thought of Wade Garrett for the first time in months. He was the son of Harlan's first cousin. Wade was a squat, ugly, little man and the butt of many jokes. Scott looked at Will. "My grandfather is an intelligent man. He knows what Wade Garrett is after."
"And perhaps he should give it to him, since you don't seem to want it," Will shot back. "Your grandfather is still hoping you'll come back, you know," he added.
Scott patted Brunswick's neck as he replied. "I know."
"You do stand to inherit a considerable estate from Harlan," Will reminded him.
Scott looked off in the distance once more. "Well, we aren't exactly on the best of terms," he said with a sigh. During his visit with to Sacramento, Scott had shared a few of the details of his grandfather's visit to Lancer. It hadn't taken much listening between the lines for Will to recognize how deeply wounded Scott had to have been by the man's actions. Now he chose to skirt the topic of Garrett's betrayal of his grandson's trust.
"You're the only child of his only child, he'd never disinherit you. But what will you do when he does pass the company on to you?" Will asked curiously.
Scott sobered at the thought of something happening to his grandfather. "I don't know, Will." He paused at a loss as to what to say. "I just don't know."
Will shrugged. "Well, maybe you can get Wade to stay on and run things for you," he said lightly.
Scott's response was serious. "I'm not sure that would work. You know, I've always had the feeling that Wade just doesn't like me very much," Scott reminded his friend.
"Well, as I said, I'm sure he'd love to replace you as Harlan Garrett's grandson." Will shot Scott a sideways look before he continued on. "And, you know, it wasn't just "Toads" like Wade who disliked the amazing Scott Lancer," he added, making reference to Wade Garrett's unfortunate childhood nickname. Will couldn't prevent the smile from curving his lips as he continued. "I assure you that all of us were, quite frankly, simply in awe of your intelligence, charm, and good looks, not to mention your inestimable way with the ladies. Everyone of us hated you for it, too."
"You forgot to mention my being a rather remarkable dresser as well ... Or, at least, I used to be." Scott said, deadpan.
Will laughed and gestured at Scott's beige work shirt. "Yes! Such sartorial splendor! Simply elegant! But, seriously, it's those gloves that complete the outfit!"
They both laughed at that comment, then Will sobered. "Truthfully, Scott, I received a letter from my brother George. As your grandfather's attorney, of course he couldn't be specific, but he did know that I'd be seeing you." Will paused, frowning. "I may be reading into it more than George intended, but I wondered whether he was suggesting that your grandfather might decide to leave Garrett Enterprises to Wade."
"I had a letter from Grandfather myself. He did mention that he was revising his will and that he intends to name cousin Wade as his secondary beneficiary. If anything happens to me, or if I decline to accept that part of the inheritance, the company will pass into Wade's hands." Scott said quietly. He and his grandfather had exchanged several letters since the ill-fated visit, but the older man's missives had taken on a noticeably more formal tone than previously, even for him.
"I know you like it out here, Scott." Will stated firmly. "But don't you miss Boston? Wouldn't you go back, if you inherited Harlan's estate?"
Scott looked at Will, carefully considering his response. "If Grandfather were no longer there, I'd have much less reason to return. If you're asking me if I miss our friends, the social life, the entertainments, yes, there are times when I feel homesick for all that." He paused, adjusting his hat to block out the sun. "But do I miss working for my grandfather? No, Will, I don't. When the Pinkerton man handed me that card, I was tempted to throw it away. But by the next afternoon I knew that I would be going West. Partly to find meet Murdoch face to face ………and partly because …..well, quite frankly, I was bored."
"And chasing cows isn't boring?" Will asked incredulously.
"There's more to ranching than chasing cows, Will."
"I didn't mean to belittle the ranching business, I just can't imagine it being as lucrative as working for Harlan," Will commented.
"It isn't really about the money. We do own considerable acres of some of the best land in the San Joaquin valley, with over 20,000 head of cattle. We each draw a salary, but most of the profits are put right back into the ranch. No one goes into the ranching business to get rich, I'm afraid. But you know my finances."
Scott decided that in addition to a change of topic, a change of scenery was in order. "There is one spot that I really want to show you. Let's stop along the river before it's time to head back to the hacienda." The two young men turned their horses and headed back down the trail, Scott taking the lead and Will following on Rambler.
When they reached the riverbank, the two friends dismounted. The river was wide and slow at this spot, but the water flowed much faster just a short distance downstream. They stood for a time, contemplating the current and discussing their surroundings. In response to a question from Will, Scott explained that there were several streams and rivers that flowed through Lancer land. Will was surprised to learn that in addition to tending to livestock, stringing fences and surveying, Scott had also had to learn about building bridges and repairing dams.
They walked a short distance downriver until they came to a few overhanging trees and found themselves some comfortable seats in the leafy shade. Will settled back against a tree trunk, while Scott sat down on Will's left side, his long fingers absently tying knots in a strand of grass as he watched the river flow past. This particular spot was one of Scott's favorites, despite its association with his memory of a rather unpleasant event from his early days at Lancer. He and Teresa had stopped along the river on their way back from Morro Coyo following Scott's ill-fated clothes shopping trip and the altercation with three of Day Pardee's "land pirates" in Senor Baldemerro's store. Outnumbered, Scott had ended up being tossed out into the street, only to look up and see his brother seated in a chair on the boardwalk, just watching.
While Teresa and Scott were still at the riverside Johnny had ridden up on Barranca. Teresa had not been terribly pleased to see him, and had flounced away, but Scott had waited calmly while Johnny sauntered towards him. When Johnny had reminded him that he'd "told ya ta stay outta it," Scott had "thanked" his brother for his "help" with a strong right hand punch which had sent the gunfighter tumbling down the banking. Johnny had gotten to his feet pretty quickly and come charging back up the slope, yelling that Scott was "nothing" to him. Teresa had intervened to prevent them from doing further damage to each other. Scott had been embarrassed at his loss of control, the more so because the girl had been a witness to it. In attempting to apologize, he had commented that the two of them were at Lancer for the same reason. Johnny had quickly pulled a twenty dollar gold piece out of his pocket, and announced that 'that' was why he had come.
Scott had not told Will about all of the events of the brothers' first encounter, but he had shared with his friend his initial impressions of Johnny. Some of those thoughts had proven accurate, while others had not been borne out on further acquaintance. Despite their rocky start, the brothers had since forged a relationship, a strong bond, really. Unfortunately, things had not been going particularly well between them of late, and Scott realized unhappily that this was due in part to some of his own actions.
It was Will who brought up Johnny's name, with a joking comment about having heard him address Scott as "Boston".
"Speaking of Johnny . . ." Scott paused uncomfortably. "What exactly happened between you two this morning?"
"Why?" Will asked. "What did your brother say?"
"That you were asking him questions. I assume about his past."
Will gazed thoughtfully at Scott. "There were a few things that I wanted to ask him about. And I'll own up, Scott. I've done a little research into the career of Johnny Madrid."
"He's Johnny Lancer now," Scott reminded his friend.
"But you told me yourself, that he wasn't altogether certain, when he first arrived here, which one it would be."
"That's right," Scott acknowledged. "But then he made his choice."
"Did he?" Will asked in a skeptical tone.
"Yes," was Scott's forceful response. "He could have sided with Pardee. He chose Lancer."
Abruptly, Will broke eye contact with Scott. Looking down at the ground, he said, "That was what I wanted to ask him about, actually. But our discussion didn't last long enough." Will looked up at Scott once more, managing a slight smile. "Your brother isn't exactly a sparkling conversationalist."
Scott disregarded that comment. "So what was it that you wanted to know, Will?"
"It seems that he worked with that outlaw, Day Pardee several years ago. . .did you know that Scott?"
It was evident from the look on Scott's face that he hadn't been aware of it. Still, he recalled that during the initial meeting with Murdoch, Johnny had made it clear that he'd known quite well who Day Pardee was. "Why does that matter, Will? Pardee is dead."
Will stared out at the river. "Who killed him, Scott?"
"I did." Scott had already described that incident to Will, explained how Pardee had been just outside the hacienda, how the rest of the land pirates had quickly dispersed once their leader had gone down.
"And how did your brother feel about that?" Will asked, without turning his head.
Surprised by the question, Scott took a moment to consider his response. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. "Though I do recall that he complimented my shooting," he added wryly. There was a brief pause, then Scott remembered something else. "Johnny said that he had shot Pardee himself, before he started riding toward the hacienda" Scott shook his head. "It looked for a moment as if he was leading the charge . .but then we recognized him and--"
"--he said that he shot Pardee?" Will asked quietly.
"Yes, that's right---"
"But you were the one who killed him?"
"Yes."
"That's interesting," Will said musingly. "You'd think that someone as good with a gun as your brother appears to be would have been able to do more than inflict a minor wound. If he had wanted to."
Scott considered that. He could certainly understand why Johnny, or anyone else for that matter, would be very reluctant to kill someone with whom he had a past history, regardless of the present situation. But no matter how close his brother may have been to Pardee, Scott could not imagine that Johnny would hold the outlaw's death against him in any way. "Will, Johnny is my brother. You can stop worrying about him."
Will sighed, then fixed his gaze on Scott. "It's you that I've been worried about. Your tendency to be too trusting." He gave an embarrassed laugh. "Like it or not, I guess that I still think of myself as your big brother."
Scott looked down, smiling to himself. Then he looked up and clasped his friend on the shoulder. "Thank you for that," he said sincerely. Scott shifted his position so that he was seated with his back to a large rock and facing Will directly. "I do trust Johnny. And I don't believe that that trust is misplaced."
"But he was a gunfighter, a killer for hire. That would bother most people."
Scott smiled. "Well, as you might imagine, Grandfather was certainly horrified by the news. Of course, he seemed to be disapproving of just about everything about Johnny, even including that nickname which you seem to find so very amusing." Scott became serious. "As far as Johnny's past, most people simply avoid the topic. Murdoch, and Teresa, well, I think that they just try not to think about what he once was."
"And you?"
"And I? . . . Well, . . .given his circumstances, I can understand it."
"He killed men for pay."
"Will, we were soldiers, we killed . . ."
Will didn't allow Scott to finish that statement. "That was different. We were fighting for a cause," he said, his voice taking on a hard edge.
"A cause. . . ," Scott said slowly. "Yes, when I enlisted, it was for the cause. But out on the battlefield . . . . .how many men really thought about that?"
Will looked away. Seeing only the damaged side of his friend's face, with the black circle of his eye patch, Scott found it difficult to anticipate his reply.
"So you stopped believing in the Union? That's what my brother died for."
There was a long pause. Scott looked down momentarily before looking up to meet Will's regard. "There weren't really any causes in Libby," he said softly. "Will, I did things that I would never have believed that I'd do."
"You were never a traitor."
Scot nodded in agreement. "Yes, that's true. But Dan Cassidy believed that I was. And, given the right circumstances, perhaps . . .I might have been. What I learned in the War, was to never say 'I would never' . .about anything."
"There but for the grace of God . . .?"
Scott nodded.
"And so that's why you turned around and helped him . . . But, Scott, I know you," Will assured him. "There are things that you would never do."
"Are there? I hope so. I'd even like to think so. But no man ever really knows, until he has to choose. . ."
"Well, then, if you can't trust yourself, if you would never say 'that you would never', then how can you be sure about anyone else, including your brother Johnny?"
For that question, Scott had no ready answer. Will Hayford, the lawyer, saw that there was no further need to press his point, because Scott Lancer had already made his argument for him.
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