Johnny heard whispered voices and tried to hear what they were saying. His mind seemed sluggish and he fought to remember what had happened. He felt hot and tried to move the blankets off his body.
“Easy, Johnny, you have to stay still.”
Johnny opened his eyes and tried to focus on the form before him. He tried to sit up, but pain and a soft touch forced him back into the softness of the bed. He felt terrible and his shoulder throbbed. “What happened?” he asked, his voice scratchy.
“You were shot, Son. Here drink some of this,” Murdoch said as he placed a glass of water in front of Johnny’s mouth. He smiled as his son drank half of the liquid.
“Shot? When?”
“It’ll come back to you, Johnny. Just rest now,” Murdoch said as he wiped his son’s face with a cool cloth.
“H...hot.”
“You’ve got a fever, Son,” Murdoch said.
“J...Johnny,” Scott’s weak voice carried to the injured man’s bed.
Murdoch turned to the other bed and watched as Teresa bathed the sweat-soaked body lying there.
“W...who’s that?” Johnny asked, blotches of red on his cheeks.
“Scott,” Murdoch answered. Jenkins had warned him that the fever could cause confusion in both men.
“Scott? What happened to him?”
“He was shot too, Son.”
“Who’d want t...to shoot Scott?” Johnny asked softly.
“We don’t know, Son.”
“He gonna be ok?”
“If we can get his fever to break and keep him in bed, he should be ok.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Three days,” Murdoch told him.
“Can I see Scott?”
“Only from here,” Murdoch said as he pushed his chair away from the bed so his youngest could get a clear view of the other bed.
“He’s n...not good, is h...he?”
“No, Son, he’s not,” Murdoch said. He knew he couldn’t lie to Johnny about Scott. The brothers had become very close since they’d been living at Lancer.
“I s...should l...leave.”
“You’re not going anywhere. We’ve been through this, Johnny. It wasn’t your fault and it wasn’t Scott’s fault. The fault lies with whoever did this and we don’t know who that is yet.” Murdoch said. “I think it’s time for you to go back to sleep.” He watched as his dark-haired son closed his eyes. He gently touched the brow and was relieved to find it considerably cooler.
“How is he, Murdoch?”
“His fever’s broken.”
“Thank God,” Teresa said as tears fell from her eyes. She turned her full attention to the blond on the bed. She continued to bathe him in hopes of getting his fever to break too, but so far it raged and she could tell it was taking its toll on the already weakened body. “Come on, Scott Lancer, fight this thing,” she demanded softly.
“Why don’t you get some rest, Teresa? I’ll take over,” Murdoch suggested as he took the cloth from the young woman’s water-wrinkled hands.
“I’m ok, Murdoch,” she said.
“Sure you are. Come on, let’s get you to your room and you can rest.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll rest as soon as Jelly gets back. He can sit with Johnny and Scott while we get some sleep.” Murdoch watched her face and could tell she was about to protest again. “We need to rest so we can be there for the boys,” he said and helped her stand.
“You’ll come get me if anything happens?”
“I promise,” Murdoch said as he walked her to her room.
Johnny opened his eyes and turned his head in the direction of his brother’s
bed. He had no idea how much time had passed since he’d been awake, but it was
now completely dark. Jelly had taken over the job of trying to cool Scott down;
he could see the slow rise and fall of his brother’s chest. Scott was no longer
lying on his back. His body was turned slightly on the left side, his stomach
leaning against pillows.
“Jelly,” Johnny said, hardly recognizing his own weak voice.
Jelly turned from the blond man and walked over to Johnny, “Hey, Johnny, how ya feelin’?” he asked.
“Better,” Johnny said. “How’s Boston?”
“He’s still got a fever, but I got him to take a little water earlier. You want some?”
Johnny nodded weakly and sipped from the glass. He finished half of it and lay back in the bed exhausted. “Thanks, Jelly,” he said.
“Welcome, Johnny. Now I’m gonna get back to washin’ Scott. You just let me know if ya want anything.”
“Ok,” Johnny said as he closed his eyes.
The next time Johnny woke up sunlight was streaming in through the window. ‘Gotta stop doing that,’ he thought as he realized he was missing time. He raised his head and noticed two blue-grey eyes staring back at him. “Scott,” he said with a smile.
“J...Johnny,” Scott said, returning the smile.
Johnny pushed himself up in the bed and got to his feet.
“B...better not,” Scott warned.
Johnny ignored his brother’s words and staggered to his bed. “How’re you feelin’, Boston?” he asked.
“Been b...better,” Scott said as he tried to turn further onto his side. He grimaced against the newly awakened pain.
“Think you’d better just lay still,” Johnny said as he placed his hand on Scott’s shoulder.
“G...good idea,” Scott said and noticed the far-away look in his brother’s expressive blue eyes. “What’s wrong, Johnny?” he asked.
“Why’d ya do it, Scott?” he asked sadly.
“Why’d I do what?”
“Why’d ya lay your life on the line for me?”
Scott knew what his brother was asking, but didn’t understand why he was asking it. “Tell me something, Johnny. Would you have put your life on the line for me?”
“Of course,” Johnny said as if the question was unwarranted.
“Why?”
“Because you’re my brother.”
“Exactly. I risked my life to save you because I love you, brother. I can’t stand the thought of going back to my old way of life. Can’t stand the idea of not having a brother.” Scott said tiredly.
“But I’m not worth it,” Johnny said despondently.
“Don’t say that,” Scott cried angrily. He tried to lift off the bed, but cried out in pain as the wound in his back protested the movement.
Lie still, Scott,” Johnny warned.
“No!” Scott’s voice was filled with anger and pain. “Y...you’re worth more than y...you know,” he said as he lifted his head and gazed into his brother’s eyes. The sadness in them made Scott cringe and he vowed to get through to him. “Johnny, please, you have to know that your life means something. I’d never be able to go back to the life I had before I had a brother. Please, B...brother, you’re needed here and not just by me,” Scott said as tears fell from his tired eyes. He didn’t care about anything, but making Johnny see the truth.
Johnny sat in the chair next to his brother’s bed and saw the truth in his eyes. “I...I don’t know what to say, Scott, except thank you,” he said as he wiped the tears from his brother’s face.
“N...no thanks needed, brother,” Scott told him and words were no longer needed between them. You’d better get back to bed,” Scott said. “Teresa j...just went to g...get some b...broth,” he managed through painful gulps.
“Guess I’d better get back before she catches me,” Johnny said with a grin.
“Too late,” Teresa said as she entered the room. She was followed in by Murdoch and Dr. Jenkins.
“Thought I told you to stay in bed,” Jenkins said as Murdoch helped Johnny to his own bed.
“You did and he’s going back there,” Murdoch said.
Jenkins had come to check on his patients and was greeted with the news that both men’s fevers had broken during the night. “Get him settled while I check this one,” Jenkins said gruffly as he sat in the chair next to his patient. “Now let’s have a look at you,” he said as he helped Scott turn totally on his stomach.
Scott bit back the cries of pain, not wanting to show his discomfort in front of the others. He felt the doctor’s hands as he removed the bandage and cleaned the wound. He tried to hold still as Jenkins prodded the painful area.
“How is he, Doc?” Johnny asked from his perch on the bed. He’d refused to lay down till he heard how his brother was doing.
“There’s no sign of infection, but he’s still going to need to stay in bed for at least another two weeks,” Jenkins said.
“Two weeks,” Scott protested.
“Would you like to try for three?” Jenkins asked.
“N...no, two’s long enough,” Scott said sheepishly.
“I believe Teresa has some broth there for you. See if you can drink all of it,” Jenkins said as he poured laudanum into a spoon and gave it to Scott. He helped turn the injured man, so he was back on his side again, propped on soft pillows. As he walked to his other patient, Teresa took his place and began feeding the blond.
Jenkins removed the bandage from Johnny’s shoulder and probed the wound gently.
“How’s he doing?” Murdoch asked.
“The wound’s healing nicely and if he stays in bed the rest of the day, he can get up for short periods tomorrow. But, Johnny, keep the arm in the sling till it heals. Too much pressure will just reopen it and we’ll have to start all over again.”
“Sure, Doc,” Johnny said with a grin.
“You’re both hopeless,” Jenkins said, looking from one brother to the other. “Have something to eat and get some rest, Johnny,” he said as he left the room, followed by Murdoch.
“N...no more,” Scott said as he closed his eyes tiredly.
Teresa looked in the bowl and saw she’d only managed to get a third of it into the injured man. “Just a little more, Scott,” she pleaded, stopping when she realized he’d fallen asleep.
“Did he drink some of it?” Murdoch asked as he returned to the room.
“A little,” Teresa told him.
“At least he got something in him. Now, what about Johnny?”
“Doc said you can have anything you want, Johnny. Something special I can get you?”
“Cake?”
“No, Johnny, not cake. Would you like a sandwich?”
“I guess so, but I’d rather have cake and you said Doc said I could have anything I want,” Johnny teased as a grin spread on his handsome face.
“Dr. Jenkins meant anything within reason. I’ll be back in a minute with the sandwich,” Teresa laughed. As she moved past the window it shattered, spraying her with glass as she fell to the floor.
“Teresa,” Johnny called as he heard the glass break and saw Teresa fall.
Murdoch moved quickly to the girl, “Lie still,” he told her as he examined her. He’d heard the gunshot just as Teresa fell. He searched for a wound and smiled as he discovered only minor scratches.
“What happened,” Teresa asked as she tried to gain her feet only to fall back unsteadily.
“Somebody shot through the window,” Murdoch told her as he helped remove the glass from her dress.
Johnny stood next to the open window searching the area. He watched the ranch hands searching and wished he could join them. “You ok, Teresa?” he asked as he turned form the window.
“I’m fine, Johnny. Just a couple of scratches,” she said as Murdoch helped her to her feet.
“W...hat’s going on?” Scott asked from his bed.
“I just fell, Scott,” Teresa lied.
“Thought I h...heard a g...gunshot,” the blond said worriedly as his eyes closed and he once more feel asleep.
“Musta’ been dreamin, Boston,” Johnny told him.
“Murdoch,” Jelly’s voice called frantically. He raced into the bedroom and stopped as he saw the blood on Teresa’s arm. “Teresa,” he said worriedly.
“I’m fine, Jelly. It’s just a scratch, see?” she said as she wiped the tiny stream of blood from her arm.
Jelly’s face showed his relief until he remembered the paper in his hands. He passed it to Murdoch and waited for the man to read it.
“Where’d you find this?” he asked angrily.
“Jake found it outside the window,” Jelly said. “What are we gonna’ do?”
“What is it, Murdoch?” Johnny asked and Murdoch passed him the paper. “At least we know who they’re after.”
Johnny stared at the Wanted Dead or Alive poster and sat heavily on the bed. Any strength he’d felt suddenly left as he looked at the familiar face staring back at him from the poster. “This can’t be right,” he said as he turned worried blue eyes towards his brother. “Why would there be a wanted poster on Scott? And why so big a bounty?” he asked as he gazed at his father.
“I don’t know, Johnny, but we’d better find out. Someone’s offering a thousand dollars for Scott dead or alive and that’s going to make a lot of bounty hunters interested in collecting.”
“We have to do something,” Johnny said as he stood and walked to his brother’s side.
“I’m posting guards,” Murdoch told him.
“That didn’t do any good a minute ago. Teresa could have been killed,” Johnny said.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Murdoch replied angrily. “I’m going to double the guard and someone will be standing outside this window all the time.”
“I’m going to see if Val knows anything about this. I’ll be back as soon as I find out,” Johnny said as he grabbed a shirt and began to struggle into it. He ignored the pain in his shoulder as the abused skin tore.
“You’re not going anywhere!” Murdoch’s voice was low but the anger came through in his eyes.
“You can’t stop me!” Johnny’s voice had turned cold, reminding Murdoch of their first few days together.
Johnny Lancer was once more becoming Johnny Madrid and Murdoch was helpless to stop it.
“I...I c...can.”
Johnny gazed into the pain-filled, blue-grey eyes of his brother. “I thought you were asleep,” he said.
“H...heard everything. D...don’t go. G...gotta protect my back and I...I’ll protect yours. S...stay together J...Johnny,” Scott said and grimaced in pain.
Johnny knelt beside him and stroked the blond’s shoulder, “Easy, Boston, I’m right here.”
“S...stay,” Scott begged as he tried to sit up on the bed.
Johnny could tell his brother was in a great deal of pain and used his good hand to press him back down on the bed, “I’ll stay,” he promised, relieved when Scott went quiet under his hand.
“G...good,” Scott said as he closed his eyes against the agonizing pain that seemed to control his every waking minute.
“Is Teresa alright?” Scott continued weakly.
“I’m fine, Scott,” she said as she knelt on the opposite side of the bed.
“B...bullet didn’t h...hit you?”
“No, Scott, it didn’t hit me. Think you could handle a little broth for me?”
Scott’s weak smile did little to disguise the pain that showed on his face as he answered, “I’ll try.”
“I’ll be right back,” Teresa said as she hurried from the room.
“So you heard everything,” Murdoch said.
“Yes.” Scott’s one-word reply conveyed the sense of worry and helplessness they all felt.
“Can you think of anyone who’d put a bounty on your head?” Johnny asked.
“I was in the w...war, Johnny, made a l...lot of enemies,” Scott answered.
“The war made enemies for everyone, Scott, whether they fought in it or not,” Murdoch consoled his oldest son.
“Some more than others,” Scott murmured as his mind wandered back to the visit by Dan Cassidy that had nearly cost him his life.
“What happened during the war was not your fault, Scott, and nobody in their right mind holds it against you,” Johnny reassured as Teresa entered the room with a fully laden tray, “Looks like lunch is here. We’ll talk more later,” he said as Teresa placed the tray on the table.
Teresa placed a plate in Johnny’s hand and then turned her attention to the man in the bed. “I’ll feed you, Scott,” she said, knowing the man couldn’t turn on his back and was lying awkwardly on the bed. “Open up,” she said as she placed a spoon of broth in front of his mouth.
Scott didn’t feel like eating, but he didn’t have the strength to fight her. He opened his mouth and let the first salty taste slide down his throat. He felt as if he were a child in his weakened body and wondered if he’d ever be able to do anything for himself again.
Teresa continued to place the spoon in front of Scott’s mouth, hoping he’d finish it all. She was disappointed when he refused to open his mouth after eating less than a third of the broth. “Just a little more, Scott,” she pleaded.
“N...no more, Scott said as he tried to ignore his rebelling stomach. Even the small amount of broth didn’t set well and he knew he was going to lose it. “S...sick,” he said as he leaned his head over the side and lost what little he’d managed to swallow.
“I got him, Johnny,” Teresa said as she felt the other man come off his chair. She held Scott through it and then helped him lie back in the bed.
“S...sorry,” Scott said, his voice cracking from his tortured throat.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Scott,” Teresa said as she wiped his face with a wet cloth.
“Get some rest, Son,” Murdoch soothed as he touched the damp, blond hair.
“Can’t, nightmares,” Scott said simply.
“What nightmares?” Murdoch asked as he sat on the bed next to his son.
“The war, it always comes back to the war. D...did some things I’m n...not proud of,” Scott said softly.
“I thought we talked this out after Dan Cassidy and his wife left. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of,” Murdoch tried to reassure his oldest son.
“That d...doesn’t help w...when I’m sleeping,” the blond said as he drifted into the world of nightmares that plagued his unconscious mind.
“I wish there was some way to help him,” Teresa said as she placed the bowl back on the tray.
“There’s nothing we can do about the nightmares. He has to find some way to get past them himself. Right now we have to deal with this wanted poster and whoever’s out to get Scott,” Murdoch said.
“How many guards have you posted?” Johnny’s tired voice asked.
“I’ve got a man stationed at each side and the others know to keep their eyes open. Johnny, you need to get back in bed,” Murdoch said as he hurried to catch his son before he slid from the chair.
“I’m fine, Murdoch,” Johnny said, his voice belying the words. “I need to watch Scott.”
“Bed and sleep. I’ll be here to watch you both,” the older man pledged as he placed his protesting son on his bed. “You need to remember you’ve been shot too.”
“No need to remind me,” Johnny said, gasping as the pain in his shoulder intensified. He closed his eyes and joined his brother in sleep.
A week passed with no other attempts on the life of Scott or Johnny Lancer. Johnny’s wound was healing and Jenkins gave him free rein as long as he didn’t take his arm out of the sling.
Johnny never left his brother’s side as night and day they battled a fever that ravaged the weakened body. The younger Lancer refused to let his brother succumb to beckoning death. He refused to let the dark rider take Scott from him.
Scott remained oblivious of his brother’s fight to keep him alive. He heard voices talking to him, but the voices would change from friendly and caring to angry and terrifying in an instant. He cried out when tortures were inflicted on his body in the prison camp. He relived the shooting when Lewis and Hardy had come seeking revenge for something he hadn’t done.
Johnny bathed his brother’s pale face, always hoping to see his eyes open. He cringed as his brother once more rose up on the bed in an effort to get away from another form of pain. He’d place his hand gently on Scott’s back and make circular motions in an effort to offer comfort. His touch always had a calming effect on his brother and he made contact with him often.
“You gonna sleep forever, Boston. I’m gettin’ kinda tired of these one-sided talks,” Johnny said as he stroked Scott’s back. “Sides I ain’t the conversational type; that’s always been your job,” he said as a lump formed in his throat, making it hard to swallow. “Please, Scott, don’t leave me now. I haven’t even begun to learn about you. There’re so many things I want to ask ya. So many things I need to say to you. We need you. Hell I need you,” Johnny said and his strong gunfighter demeanour disappeared as he sobbed in the darkness.
“I...it’s k, Johnny.”
Johnny Lancer’s head snapped up and he looked into the dull blue-grey eyes of his brother. The sight he’d longed to see since the fever had taken hold of his brother caused his own exhausted mind and body to tremble in relief. “Oh, God, Scott, I...I thought I was gonna lose you,” he said as he swiped at the moisture on his cheeks.
“N...not a chance, b...brother,” Scott said, smiling weakly.
“Can I get ya somethin’?”
“W...water,” the blond answered.
“Here,” Johnny said as he lifted the glass to his brother’s lips. They’d been forcing water into the injured man’s mouth whenever he was conscious enough to swallow. “Not too fast, Boston, don’t want ya gettin’ sick. I’ll give ya some more in a minute.”
“How long have I been out?”
“A week since you were shot. Five days since you’ve had the fever.”
“Shot,” Scott asked, closing his eyes as he struggled to remember what had happened. Suddenly his eyes snapped open and he looked into his brother’s eyes. “You were shot!”
“I’m fine, Scott. Arm’s a little stiff, but gettin’ better. You took the worst of it.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, Boston, you did. Took a bullet in the back,” Johnny said, beginning to worry about his brother’s confusion over the shooting.
“Who s...shot us?” Scott asked as his eyes clouded with pain.
“Don’t know yet, Boston, but I aim to find out.”
Scott tried to retrieve the elusive memory of the shooting. Something niggled at his mind but he couldn’t quite grasp it. He’d seen someone that night, but he didn’t know if it had anything to do with what had happened to him and Johnny. The pain in his back became almost unbearable and Johnny reached for the tiny bottle of laudanum the doctor had left. He lifted his brother’s head and urged him to drink some. “You just rest, Scott. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“T...thanks, brother,” Scott said and waited for the laudanum to take affect.
“No need for thanks, Boston,” Johnny said as he massaged his brother’s temple. He listened for the even breathing that would signify his brother was sleeping and not caught up in another fever-induced nightmare. He was rewarded when a soft sigh issued from the dry lips and he smiled. ‘Stay with me, Boston. I need you more than you’ll ever know,’ he thought as he stretched his aching body.
“How is he?” Murdoch asked as he entered the room.
Johnny smiled tiredly at his father. “He was awake for a few minutes,” he said.
“That’s good news,” Murdoch said as he walked up to the bed. He looked from the sleeping form on the bed to the exhausted form in the chair. The dark circles under his youngest son’s eyes told of his lack of sleep. “I think it’s time for you to get some sleep as well.”
“I’m fine, Murdoch,” Johnny protested and then grinned as he was unable to stop the yawn that consumed his face.
“Sure you are, Son. Let’s get you to bed.”
“I have to watch Boston,” the dark-haired man said as his father pulled him to his feet.
“I’ll watch him for awhile. You get in that bed and sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”
“Guess you’re right,” Johnny said as his weary legs were unable to hold him. “Can’t do much for Scott if I’m dead on my feet,” he said as he laid back against the pillow.
Murdoch watched as his youngest son was instantly asleep. He touched a pale cheek and thought of the time he’d lost with both of his sons. As he glanced at the other bed, he wondered whether he’d get the chance to try and make up for the mistakes he’d made with both of them.
He sat next to the bed that housed his oldest son and reached out to touch the gaunt face. Scott had been lean since the day he’d come to Lancer but now, due to the fever and injury, his body seemed to have shrunk even further. ‘You got to pull through this, Son,’ he thought as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.
 |
 |
 |
 |