Scott Lancer was not sure how they’d gotten into this mess, but he knew he had to get his brother out of harm’s way. He could see the red stain growing on Johnny’s shoulder and he hurried to his side as bullets whipped around him. “We have to go now, Johnny,” he said as he pulled his brother to his feet.
“Think you’re right, Boston,” Johnny said as he stumbled along with his brother. Bullets continued to rain all around them, but nothing stopped the two men from making it to their horses.
Scott stopped to help Johnny mount Barranca and quickly hurried to his own. He felt a tiny twinge in his lower back. ‘Knew all this riding would catch up to me,’ he thought as he followed his brother away from the little canyon.
An hour later, with no one following them, Scott watched as Johnny slumped in his saddle and Barranca pulled to a stop. He stopped his own horse and leapt down. The pain in his lower back more predominant than it was before, a hiss tore from his throat as he scrambled to catch his brother before he hit the ground.
He caught Johnny just as he slid towards the hard-packed dirt and lowered him as gently as his aching back would allow. Ripping open the blue shirt that covered his brother’s muscular chest, he found the entry point of the bullet and quickly searched for an exit wound. He bit his lip when he couldn’t find one. “Gonna have to get you to Lancer and have someone get Doc Jenkins,” Scott said aloud.
Johnny groaned as he opened his eyes and wondered where he was. The familiar pain in his shoulder told him he’d stopped another bullet and he wondered just how bad this one was.
“Johnny,” Scott said as he saw his brother’s eyes partially open. “Think you can sit a horse for a little longer?”
“D...don’t think s...so, Scott,” Johnny said as he licked his dry lips.
“If you can stand, we’ll get you on my horse and I’ll hold you till we get back. Think you can stand?”
“T...think so, Boston, but what about y...our back. Seems t...to me you were h...having problems with it w...when we left Moro C...Coyo.”
“It’s not so bad and it’s only another hour to Lancer. Come on, brother, let’s get you mounted,” Scott said as he helped Johnny to his feet. Scott held Johnny’s foot and placed it in the stirrup. He used his own strength to lift his brother onto the horse’s back and bit back a cry of pain as his back flared in agonizing white-hot pain.
Johnny missed his brother’s cry as his own gasp tore from his lips. His shoulder throbbed unmercifully and he knew the bullet was probably lying against the bone.
Scott reached around to his lower back and was surprised when his hand came away wet and sticky. The blood covered his fingers and he wiped them on his shirt. The pain snapped into him full force and he knew why his back was hurting. He had to get Johnny back to Lancer before he lost touch with reality. Feeling adrenaline kick in once again, he slowly pulled himself up behind his brother, reached for Barranca’s reins and hurried towards Lancer.
Scott breathed a sigh of relief as they rode through the gates and up to the house. Darkness had fallen but he could see a familiar black rig outside the door. “Hey, Johnny, looks like Doc Jenkins is already here,” he said to the unconscious man in his arms. “I need help out here,” Scott called. He didn’t have the energy to get down himself, let alone to hold Johnny as he did it.
The front door opened and he recognized the figure of his father. Murdoch Lancer took one look at his sons riding double and hurried forward. “What the hell happened?” he asked Scott as he took the younger man from his arms.
“We ran into a little trouble. Johnny took a bullet in the shoulder,” Scott said as his father lifted his brother into his arms and headed for the house.
“Mike hurt his hand, so Doc Jenkins is already here,” Murdoch said as he hurried inside.
Scott sat on his horse, wondering where he was going to get the energy to dismount. Now that he’d made it home and his brother was being helped the adrenaline quickly left his body. He slid from the saddle and landed hard on the ground. New waves of agony burst from his back as he struggled to his feet. His worry for his brother made him ignore the agony he felt and he stumbled towards the house. At least he thought it was the house. Pain and blood loss caused his vision to blur and he stumbled towards the barn instead of the warmth of the house. His strength finally gave out and he fell, his body lying next to the stone fence, inches from the spot where Drago and Chapel had used the Gatling gun months before.
“How bad is he, Doc?” Murdoch asked worriedly.
“The bullet’s against the bone and it’s hard to grip. Hold him down,” Jenkins said as Johnny’s body threatened to come off the bed.
Murdoch held his son tightly and watched as his face was overcome with a grimace of agony, “Easy, Johnny, Doc’s gotta get the bullet out,” Murdoch said as he took Johnny uninjured left hand in his. He felt his son tighten his grip as he endured the doctor’s ministrations.
Minutes passed as Murdoch, Teresa, and Jelly waited for the doc to pull the tiny piece of metal from the injured man. Finally the bullet was out and they heard it clang as it hit the metal bowl.
Jenkins cleaned and bandaged the shoulder and stood back from the bed. “He should be ok as long as you keep him in bed for the next week,” he said as he cleaned the blood from his hands.
“I’ll see that he does,” Teresa said with a relieved smile. She looked around the bedroom searching for Scott. “Murdoch,” she called, “Where’s Scott?”
“I thought he was in here,” Murdoch said as he realized his oldest son was missing. “We’d better find him. He’s probably feeling guilty about what happened to Johnny,” he said hopefully.
“Was he hurt?” Jenkins asked.
“I don’t know,” Murdoch said as he left the room in search of his missing son. “It didn’t seem like it when he passed Johnny to me, but it was dark and I couldn’t see anything.”
“You folks find him. I’ll stay here with Johnny,” Jenkins said.
“Thanks, Doc,” Jelly said as he followed Murdoch and Teresa from the room.
“Teresa, you check the house. Jelly, you take the barn and the bunkhouse. I’ll check the yard,” Murdoch ordered as he walked out the door into the darkness. The sight of Scott and Johnny’s horses gave him a feeling of foreboding and he knew he’d made a mistake in not making sure his oldest son was ok.
“Scott,” he called anxiously as Jelly hurried past him on the way to the bunkhouse. He continued to search the yard, but it was hard to see anything in the total darkness. He hurried back in the house and grabbed the nearest lamp.
“He’s not in here,” Teresa said as she followed him outside. Her fears grew as she saw the saddled horses. “Scott!” she called.
Scott lay near the fence as wave upon wave of agony rolled over his body. His back felt as if it were on fire as he forced his way back to consciousness. “J...Johnny,” he said weakly.
“I think I heard something, Murdoch,” Teresa said as she stood by the fence. “Scott,” she called again.
Scott struggled to answer the worried voice. His strength was nonexistent as he opened his eyes and gasped for breath, “h...here,” was all he could manage.
“Over there,” Murdoch said as he indicated the area of the fence he’d heard the feeble cry coming from. He heard Teresa’s footsteps following him. “We’re coming, Scott,” Murdoch said as he rounded the corner and took in the sight of the oldest Lancer son. “Where are you hurt?” he asked as he knelt beside the blond.
“B...back,” Scott gasped in pain.
Murdoch gently turned his son on his side and in the swirling light of the lamp he could see the blood soaked cloth that covered his son’s back. “Why didn’t you say something?” Murdoch asked as a tinge of anger came into his voice.
“H...had t...to make s...sure J...Johnny’s ok. I...is h...he?”
“Johnny gonna be fine,” Murdoch said and turned to Teresa. He ignored the tears that ran down the young woman’s cheeks as he ordered her to go get help.
“H...hurts,” Scott groaned as he arched his back to try and escape the offending agony.
“I know it does, Son, but you have to lie still. Help’s coming and Doc’s gonna fix you up,” Murdoch said as he touched his son’s fevered brow.
Jelly and two ranch hands hurried up to Murdoch. “Teresa’s gone to tell the doc,” Jelly explained breathlessly.
“Good,” Murdoch said simply. “Scott, we’re gonna carry you inside now. It’s gonna hurt but Doc’ll fix you up.”
“K,” Scott said feebly.
“You two take his legs,” he ordered the two ranch hands. “Jelly, you grab that side and I’ll get this side. Let’s do this fast,” Murdoch said as they lifted the injured man.
Scott screamed as he was lifted off the ground. The moans and gasps continued to be wrenched from him as he was moved into the house and up to his bed.
“Damn fool,” Jenkins said as they hurriedly removed the blond’s clothing. The angry wound low on the right side continued to seep blood and Jenkins worried about its loss. He cleaned the area and began to probe the wound gently.
Scott moaned as he lay on his stomach. The doctor’s hands felt cold to his fevered skin and goose bumps covered his skin. “P...please s...stop,” he cried weakly as the doctor continued to examine the wound.
“The bullet’s in deep, but I don’t think it’s hit anything major. I’m gonna have to make an incision to get it out,” Jenkins explained.
“Can’t you just use the probe like you did on Johnny?” Murdoch asked as he reached for his son’s hand.
“There’s too many organs in this part of the body and I’m afraid of doing more damage if I go in blindly. There’s no way around it. I have to cut the bullet out. Here, give him some of this,” Jenkins said as he passed Murdoch a tiny brown bottle.
“Laudanum?” Murdoch asked.
“That’s all I have. I used the last of the ether and haven’t received the new shipment. Give him that and hopefully it’ll keep some of the pain at bay,” Jenkins said as he finished cleaning the wounded area.
“Here, Son, drink this,” Murdoch said as he lifted the damp blond head and placed the tiny bottle to his lips.
Scott swallowed the liquid and felt it burn down his throat. He waited for the welcoming warmth he’d come to associate with the liquid. His eyes began to feel heavy and he slipped wordlessly into unconsciousness.
“Ok, we’re ready to begin,” Jenkins said softly. “I need you to tie his hands and feet to the bed,” Jenkins told Murdoch.
“What!!” Murdoch exclaimed, a horrified look washing over his face. “There’s no choice here, Murdoch. The laudanum is not gonna keep him under and he’s gonna try to buck off that bed. Remember what Johnny just went through? Well, this is gonna be worse because I have to cut into his flesh. Now do as I ask. We’re wasting valuable time arguing,” Jenkins ordered.
It didn’t take long for Murdoch and Jelly to secure the thin strips of cotton to Scott’s wrists. Murdoch sat beside his son holding his hand as Jenkins’ scalpel bit into Scott’s fevered flesh. He tried to sooth the younger man as Scott tried to pull away from the offending instrument.
“Talk to him, Murdoch,” Jenkins said as he searched for the tiny bullet.
“Scott, you remember the day you decided you weren’t going back to Boston?” Murdoch asked. Scott’s answer came out as a moan as Jenkins reached into the wound with a probe. “That was one of the happiest days of my life. I knew then that I should have come for you earlier despite what Harlan said.”
“Oh, God,” Scott screamed as the probe bit deep into the wound.
“S...Scott,” Johnny’s weak voice from the door caused Murdoch and the others to look up.
“Johnny, get back in bed right now,” Murdoch ordered.
“No, M...Murdoch,” Johnny said as he staggered into the room. “W...hat happened to S...Scott?” he asked as he finished what felt like the longest trip of his life. He saw the bloodied wound in his brother’s back and felt the anger building inside him. “What are you doin to my brother?” he asked, as he sank to his knees by the bed.
“Scott’s hurt, Johnny. He was shot too,” Teresa said as she touched the dark-haired man on the shoulder.
“Shot? But... when? How? He c...carried me home. H...he was f...fine,” Johnny cried as he watched his brother suffer the torment of the doctor’s ministrations.
“He must have been hit just after you were,” Murdoch said as he continued to hold his oldest son’s trembling body.
“J...Johnny, y...you k?” Scott’s pain-filled voice asked.
‘I’m fine, Boston,” Johnny said as he reached out and took Scott’s hand in his own good one. “W...why didn’t you say something?”
“I...I didn’t k...know. Oh, God, i...it h...hurts,” Scott’s moans soon became screams as the doctor once more reached into the wound and pulled free the twisted hunk of metal.
“Easy, Scott, I got the damn thing,” Jenkins said as he dropped the bullet into a bowl. “Teresa, can you get me some clean water?” he asked and watched as the sobbing girl hurried from the room. “Johnny, go back to bed.”
“I’m staying,” Johnny said with more force than he thought he could muster.
“You’ve got a bullet hole in your shoulder and you need to rest,” Jenkins said as he continued to work on Scott’s exposed back.
“I’ll rest later,” Johnny said as he felt Scott’s hand tighten its grip on his own hand.
“Damn fool young uns,” Jenkins said as he took the water from Teresa and quickly cleaned the blood from Scott’s back. He reached into his bag for a tiny bottle and took the cap off. “Hold him still, Murdoch,” he said as he poured the burning liquid onto the wound.
Scott felt the pain as the fire built in his back and he screamed against the pillow. The muffled sound wrenched cries from all present.
Johnny held Scott’s hand through the pain and gently stroked his brother’s sweat soaked forehead. He ignored the pain radiating from his own wounded shoulder as he wiped the tears from the pale cheeks. “Easy, Boston, Doc’s almost finished,” he said as he watched Jenkins threading a needle. “Just a little longer,” he comforted, knowing his brother still had to endure more torture.
Jenkins stitched the gaping wound in Scott Lancer’s back, all the while hoping the man would succumb to unconsciousness. He knew he was causing the young man considerable pain, but there was nothing he could do about it. He breathed a sigh of relief as he finished the last stitch and quickly snapped the thread. He reached to the table near the bed and took the square white bandage.
Scott breathed deeply as the final touch was put on his wound. He closed his eyes against the feeling of nausea that welled up and hoped he wouldn’t be sick. The strong urge became more than he could handle and his rebelling stomach emptied its contents over the pillow his head lay nestled in.
“Doc,” Johnny cried worriedly.
“It’s ok, Johnny, probably just delayed reaction to the bullet wound and treatment. You just move back and sit down while we clean him up,” Jenkins ordered.
“I’ll be right here, Scott,” Johnny said as he felt his brother’s hand slip from his own.
“G...go, s...sleep,” Scott told his brother weakly.
“Come on, Johnny, let’s get you back to bed,” Murdoch said as he watched Teresa and the doctor remove the bindings from Scott’s wrists and ankles.
“He’s my brother, Murdoch. I’m staying,” Johnny said, as he stood his ground.
“Oh, of all the stubborn, wilful, stupid ideas. You and your brother need to learn that you’re not indestructible. Scott’s being looked after and its high time you were back in your own bed. I’m not gonna argue anymore, Johnny. If you don’t go back to your room and get some sleep, I’ll tie you to the bed and you’ll stay there for a week,” Murdoch threatened, his eyes flashing dangerously.
“But.”
“No buts. You’re hurt and you need to rest. Now, do you walk or do I carry you,” Murdoch said, and regretted the harshness of his words as Johnny’s eyes showed the pain he actually felt.
“Will you come get me if something happens?” Johnny asked weakly, his legs turning to rubber as he sagged against his father.
“I promise I’ll come get you. Now let’s get you to your room,” Murdoch said softly.
Scott watched as his father helped his brother from the room. He felt a cool cloth touch his face and looked into the smiling face of the young woman he thought of as a sister. “Thanks,” he whispered as he closed his eyes.
“He’s sleeping,” Jenkins said as he saw the worried look come over the girl’s face. “He needs that now. Let’s finish cleaning him up and then I’ll check on the other fool.”
Murdoch gently lowered his Johnny to the bed and stared into the troubled eyes, “What’s wrong, Son?” he asked, knowing it was more than the bullet wounds he and Scott had suffered.
“Why’d he do it, Murdoch?” Johnny asked, a hint of fear in his voice.
“Why’d who do what?”
“Why’d Scott put my life ahead of his own? I’m not worth it,” Johnny said, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to flow.
“That’s not how Scott thinks, Johnny; that’s not how any of us think. Your brother put your life ahead of his own because that’s what a brother does.”
“I should never have come to Lancer,” Johnny said quietly.
“Don’t say that, Johnny,” Murdoch told his son.
“If I hadn’t come to Lancer, Scott wouldn’t be lying in there fighting for his life. It’s all my fault. Will he die, Murdoch?” Johnny asked, remembering the pale grey skin on his brother’s face.
“What makes you think it’s your fault, Johnny? Did you see who shot you?”
“No, I didn’t see anyone. The first warning we had was when the bullet hit me in the shoulder.”
“Well, how do you know whoever did this wasn’t after Scott?”
“Because I’m the gunslinger. I’m the man who’s made more enemies than friends. Who’d want to kill Scott?”
Murdoch couldn’t suppress the angry laugh that tore from him at Johnny’s comment, “Scott doesn’t have any enemies, you say? What about Dan Cassidy? I know he was wrong about Scott, but he still tried to have him killed. On the same thought, what about the two men Cassidy had with him? They didn’t care that Scott was innocent; they wanted him dead anyway. Did you have anything to do with either of those men? No! Believe me, Johnny, Scott has his own share of enemies without you trying to take all the blame,” Murdoch assured his youngest son.
“I know what you say is true, Murdoch, but Scott should’ve told me he’d stopped a bullet too . He could have died. He could still die,” Johnny said in a worried voice.
“But he didn’t and he won’t. Scott proved today how much he loves you, Johnny. Don’t let it all be for nothing. Let yourself heal and then you’ll be able to help your brother heal as well.”
“I don’t deserve that kind of unconditional love,” Johnny told his father as his eyes closed in sleep.
“Oh, Son, you do. You both do,” Murdoch said as he turned down the lamp and exited the room.
He stopped Jelly as he came out of Scott’s room and the two walked down the short flight of stairs.
“What’s wrong, Murdoch,” Jelly asked.
“I want some guards posted tonight,” Murdoch said as he poured two glasses of whiskey.
“You think whoever did this is gonna come back?” he accepted the amber-coloured liquid from his boss’s hand.
“Whoever did this wanted one or both boys dead, Jelly. I have a feeling this isn’t over. For now Scott and Johnny are helpless to do anything about it, but we’re not. Have someone ride for Val. Maybe he can help us find out if someone new is in town,” Murdoch said as he downed the drink.
“Sure, Boss, I’ll get right on it,” Jelly answered.
Murdoch acknowledged the older man and walked back up the stairs. He stood between his sons’ bedroom doors, wondering which one he should go to. He knew Scott’s wound was more serious, but his younger son’s unwarranted guilt worried him. His decision was made when Jenkins opened Scott’s door and signalled for Murdoch to join him.
Murdoch entered the darkened room and was immediately assaulted by the sickly odour of stale vomit. Teresa hurried past him carrying the soiled linen in her arms.
He stepped forward and looked down at the pale form on the bed. Scott lay on his stomach, one arm raised above his head and the other tucked under his gaunt cheek. His eyes were closed , but even in sleep Murdoch saw the thin lines of pain on his normally peaceful face. His blond hair, normally so well cared for, was plastered to his scalp by sweat and whatever Teresa had used to wash the vomit out of it. He was covered to the waist with a thin blanket and Murdoch gasped at the deep bruising that covered his son’s lower back. A white bandage covered most of the bruise and stood out boldly against the skin on his back.
He sat in the chair vacated by Johnny and gently touched his son’s fevered brow. “Stay with us, Son,” he said as he prayed for both of his sons. “Will he be alright?” he asked Jenkins.
“I’ve had to do some things to him that I normally wouldn’t do. Scott’s strong, Murdoch, and with a lot of rest he should be just fine. You’re gonna need to keep him in bed for at least a couple of weeks, but he should pull through.”
“What about Johnny?”
“Johnny needs to give himself time to heal as well. That means you have to keep him in his own bed for at least a week. I know that’s gonna be hard especially with Scott injured as well, but it has to be done.”
“That’s not gonna be easy. What would you say to bringing Johnny’s bed in here so he can be close to his brother?”
“That just might work, Murdoch. You’d be able to keep them both from getting out of bed,” Jenkins said, a grin on his face.
“I’ll get some of the boys to help me,” Murdoch said.
“Any idea who did this?” Jenkins asked as he finished cleaning his hands.
“None, Johnny said there was no warning until he was hit. I’m posting guards until we find out who did this,” a moan from the bed drew his attention and he continued to stroke his forehead. “Easy, Scott,” he said.
“It’s h...hurting. B...back h...hurts,” Scott moaned as he tried to reach the wound.
“Give him some more of this, Murdoch,” Jenkins said as he passed the tiny bottle.
Murdoch lifted his son’s head and gently poured a small amount into his mouth. He repeated the process until Jenkins told him he’d had enough.
“W...water,” Scott asked.
Murdoch looked at the doctor.
“Just a little. Don’t want him getting sick again,” Jenkins said. “I’ll be back in the morning, Murdoch. Just make sure you keep him quiet and the other one in bed.”
“That’s a simple job,” Murdoch responded sarcastically.
Johnny watched his brother from his own bed across the room. Scott hadn’t stirred since Johnny had been moved into the same room. He could see the gleam of sweat on Scott’s forehead and exposed back. He watched as Teresa bathed the man’s fevered brow.
Teresa felt eyes drilling into her back and she turned away from the fair-haired Lancer brother. “You should be sleeping, Johnny,” she reprimanded him.
“Seems like that’s all I’ve been doing. How is he really doing, Teresa?” Johnny asked, his voice scratchy from fatigue and pain.
“He’s developed a fever, Johnny, but you know Scott. He’s a fighter,” Teresa said as she walked over to Johnny’s bed. She picked up a pitcher of water and poured some into a glass. She handed it to Johnny and watched as he drained the cool liquid.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Feel like eating a little something?”
“You been baking?” Johnny asked hopefully.
“No, besides you wouldn’t be allowed to have any just yet. Dr. Jenkins said only broth for a few days.”
“Where is the doc? Shouldn’t he be here with Scott?”
“He had to check on the Miller boy. He broke his leg three days ago and Dr. Jenkins wanted to make sure he was staying off it. I’m going to get you that broth. I’ll be right back. Stay in bed, Johnny,” she ordered as she left the room.
As soon as Johnny heard her retreating footsteps, he threw back the blankets and hauled his trembling body from the bed. He staggered to his brother’s side and knelt in front of him. “Hey, Boston, hell of a mess we’ve gotten into again,” he said as he took the wet cloth and bathed Scott’s fevered brow.
“J...Johnny,” Scott’s voice was low, but Johnny didn’t miss the quietly spoken word.
“Hey, Scott, how you feeling?” he asked, only slightly relieved to hear his brother.
“I’ve f...felt b...better,” Scott said as he tried to lift his head. A grimace of pain marred his handsome features and Johnny placed his hand gently on his shoulder.
“I bet you have, Boston. You’ve looked better too,” Johnny laughed.
“T...thanks,” Scott said, forcing a weak smile to his lips.
“Johnny Lancer, I told you not to get out of bed,” Teresa said as she returned with a mug of broth.
“He’s awake, Teresa,” Johnny told her and hid a smile as her attention was turned to Scott.
She placed the mug of warm broth in Johnny’s hand and looked into Scott’s open eyes, “How’re you feeling, Scott?” she asked.
“I...I’m fine,” he said.
Johnny laughed at the response Scott gave Teresa. He’d told Johnny the truth, but tried to hide it from the dark-haired girl. “Sure you are, Boston,” he said.
“Johnny, let’s get you back to bed so I can look after Scott. Murdoch and Dr. Jenkins just rode up and you know what they’ll do if they find you out of bed. You’ll end up back in your own room,” Teresa told him.
Johnny looked at Scott and was tempted to stay where he was. He needed to feel close to Scott, to protect him from anyone who’d do him harm.
“Go,” Scott said softly.
Teresa took the mug from Johnny’s hand and placed it on the tiny table. She helped him to his feet and supported him to his bed.
Johnny hadn’t realized just how much energy he’d used up in the little trip he’d made to his brother’s side. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Teresa to finish plumping his pillows.
Teresa lifted his feet back on the bed and made him lay back against the soft pillows. She handed him the mug of broth. “Drink it all,” she ordered.
“How are they, Teresa?” Murdoch asked as he entered the room followed closely by Jenkins.
Jenkins walked to the bed where the older Lancer brother lay. He noticed the half-open eyes, the sweat-streaked forehead, the pale skin, and the pain that lined his face. “Morning, Scott,” he said as pulled the blanket down to reveal the bandaged wound in Scott Lancer’s back.
Murdoch watched Johnny sip the mug of broth and was glad to see him finish it all. He turned his attention to his eldest son and watched the doctor work on him. Jenkins removed the soiled bandage and cleaned the excess blood. He heard Scott’s sharp intake of breath as he cleaned the area surrounding the incision and regretted the new pain he was causing. “Easy, Scott, almost done,” Jenkins said.
“K,” Scott said weakly, clenching his teeth against the renewed agony.
Johnny watched his brother’s face and tried to leave the bed. He wanted to help Scott through this. The guilt and pain of the shooting weighed heavily on his heart , and he wondered if he should leave Lancer before anyone else got hurt because of his old way of life.
“Son, you can’t blame yourself for this,” Murdoch said, reading Johnny’s pain-filled eyes like an open book.
“Why can’t I, Murdoch? We both know whoever did this was probably out for revenge against the great Johnny Madrid,” Johnny said the last in a voice filled with anger.
“You don’t know that, Johnny. Scott could have been the target and until we know for sure, I’m keeping some guards posted. Val’s out at the site where you two were ambushed. Hopefully he’ll be able to come up with some answers,” Murdoch explained.
“N...not y...your f...fault, Brother,” Scott said, his voice weak, but it reached Johnny’s ears anyway.
Johnny’s blue eyes met Scott’s blue ones and words were no longer needed. The simple contact was enough to tell each that they would be there for the other, no matter what.
Murdoch watched the unspoken contact and smiled. His sons were more alike than either of them realized. Each man shouldered a heavy burden of pain and guilt for what had happened to them the day before.
Jenkins worried about the fever in Scott Lancer. He knew it was dangerous to the already weakened man. He finished re-bandaging the wound and opened the bottle of laudanum, “Murdoch, I need you to lift his head,” he said.
Murdoch hurried to help the doctor. He lifted Scott’s head so Jenkins could spoon in the medicine. When the medicine was finished, the doctor poured some water into a glass on the bedside table and placed it in front of Scott’s mouth. “Try some of this, Scott,” Jenkins ordered and was relieved to see the man drink a small amount. “That’s enough for now, Murdoch, but I want you to make sure he’s drinking. Next time he wakes up, see if he’ll take a little broth,” Jenkins instructed as he watched Scott’s eyes close and his breathing even out.
“I will, Doc,” Murdoch said as Jenkins made his way over to check on the second patient.
“How are you feeling, Johnny?” Jenkins asked.
“I’m fine,” Johnny lied.
“Sure you are,” Jenkins laughed. “Let’s take a look at that shoulder,” he said as he removed the sling, revealing the bandage covered wound. His eyes narrowed at the fresh blood present on the white cloth. “What have you been doing, young man?” he asked angrily.
“Nothing,” Johnny said, and winced as Jenkins removed the bloodied piece of cloth.
“He was out of bed when I came back with the broth,” Teresa told Jenkins, and smiled at Johnny.
“You’re not to get up for at least a couple of days, Johnny. I don’t want any strain on that shoulder. Do I make myself clear?” Jenkins commanded in a voice that told Johnny the man was a little more than upset.
“Yes,” Johnny said, trying to look chagrined but failing completely.
“Did you drink much broth?” Jenkins asked as he cleaned the younger Lancer’s wound.
“A mug full.”
“That’s good. I want you to take in as much fluid as you can. Lots of broth and water. If you feel up to it, you can have something solid tomorrow. By solid I don’t mean Teresa’s cakes either,” Jenkins laughed.
“Sure, Doc,” Johnny said and winced as the doctor placed his arm back in the sling. “I don’t need any of that. Save it for Scott,” Johnny said as he watched the doctor measure out a spoon of laudanum.
“I have plenty for both of you. Now open up,” Jenkins ordered and waited for Johnny to swallow the medicine.
Jenkins left a few minutes later, leaving instructions for both his patients. Murdoch sat between his sons’ beds and watched them both sleeping. Both faces so different, yet so alike in the pain that showed even in sleep.
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