Harlan Garrett stared at the two people in the bedroom. He'd listened to the conversation between the two and felt the anger well up inside. He heard the girl speak of the whipping Harper was going to inflict on his grandson and resented the fact that she'd managed to escape but hadn't taken Scott with her. He didn't care that the odds were stacked against a lone girl. All he cared for was his grandson. 'As soon as you’re back, Scott, we're going back to Boston where we both belong,' he thought as he walked away from the door.
Johnny had reluctantly agreed when Murdoch had called a halt to the search because of darkness. They'd eaten quickly and retired for the night. He was the first to waken at dawn and hurriedly made coffee and breakfast. As soon as it was ready he woke the other three. They ate in silence and renewed the search for the missing Lancer.
The sun rose high above their heads before they came to a fork in the road. One led into a range of high, green, tree-covered hills. The other led towards an area known only as the badlands. It was mostly desert with very few places to get water or food. The four men got off their horses and began searching the area for signs of which way Harper had taken Scott. They'd discovered the body of Mike Reynolds earlier that morning and knew they were searching in the right direction.
The ground was mostly rock and made it hard for them to find fresh tracks. Johnny sat back on his haunches and worried that he'd make the wrong decision and cost Scott his life. He spotted some broken twigs on a low hanging tree and had almost decided to take the road towards the hills when Frost pointed in the other direction.
"Is that the area they call the badlands?" Frost asked.
"Some call it that," Murdoch answered.
"That's where he went," Frost said.
"What makes you so sure?" Johnny asked.
"Cause Harper told me stories about his life in the badlands. He told me he lived there in a tiny cabin. His father died there but he stayed for several years after."
"Do you have any idea where this cabin is?" Murdoch asked excitedly.
"Not exactly, but Harper said it was well hidden and hard to find."
"Damn! Can't we catch a break once in a while?" Johnny swore softly.
"Maybe we just did," Burt said. "Seems to me Matt and I passed a cabin to the northeast of here, although it's not much of a cabin now."
"How far?" Murdoch asked impatiently.
"Bout half a days ride I'd say," Burt told them.
"Lead the way," Johnny said as he jumped on Barranca's back.
"I'm not exactly sure of the location but I'll try," Burt told them.
"That's all I ask," Murdoch said, placing a reassuring hand on Burt's shoulder.
The four men were soon mounted again but this time Burt was in the lead. Everyone felt the same life and death desperation.
Scott longed for a drink. His throat felt on fire and his body burned with an incessant need. He watched as Harper drank from a canteen. The water dripping from his chin made Scott lick his dry, chapped lips.
Harper knew his captive was awake as he placed the canteen in front of him. He gleefully pointed his finger at Scott and then at the canteen.
Scott was sure he was being taunted but knew he needed the liquid to survive. He could not bear to die without seeing his family again. He nodded his head slightly.
Harper lifted the canteen and walked towards the injured man. "You sure?" he grinned.
"Pl... please," Scott stammered through clenched teeth.
"Drink," Harper said and placed the canteen to Scott's lips.
Scott braced himself for the onslaught of water. He fully expected Harper to repeat what he'd done the first time he'd given him a drink. Scott was surprised when his captor pulled the canteen away after a few moments. His body cried for more but he didn't want to push his luck. His stomach churned and Scott fought to keep the meagre contents down. Finally he felt as if he were going to hold it down. He closed his eyes and listened as Harper moved away before allowing himself to relax.
Burt pulled his horse to a stop and waited for the others to do the same. As they came abreast of his horse he turned and spoke directly to Murdoch. "It's been a few years since Matt and I were here, Sir, but I'm pretty sure we're close."
"How can you be so sure?" Murdoch asked.
"See those two rocks over there?" Murdoch followed his pointed finger and nodded his head. "Well Matt commented on them looking a little like wolves baying at the moon. If I'm right the cabin should be just on the other side of them."
"I think he's right, Mr. Murdoch. I seem to remember Harper saying there was a pair of wolves always watchin over him while he lived here," Frost added quickly.
As if by unspoken agreement Johnny took the lead and they began to ride towards the rocks. By the time they reached the base of the formation the sun had dipped below the horizon and darkness had descended.
"I think we'd better stop for the night, Johnny, we won't be able to find it in the dark, Murdoch suggested.
"But," Johnny tried.
"We can't take the chance of one of the horses stumbling and getting hurt. Come on, Johnny, you know I'm right," Murdoch said quietly.
"Why don't you three set up camp and I'll just check around a little bit. Barranca, here," he said patting the horse's neck and was rewarded with a soft whinny, "is used to picking his way in the dark."
Murdoch wanted to say no but could see that Johnny was too tense to settle down for the night. "All right, Johnny, but I want you back in an hour at the most."
Johnny smiled, the winning smile he reserved for instances when he knew he'd won, whether it was with Murdoch, Scott, or one of the many ladies who vied for his attention. Without a backward glance he took off in search of his brother.
While the others continued to make camp for the night Johnny rode past the Rock formation and let Barranca take his own lead. The horse carefully picked his way over the hard, rock-strewn ground.
Johnny kept his eyes peeled for anything that would lead him to his brother. Tired and dust covered, he was about to turn back for camp when a light caught his attention. The light was small, but Johnny was sure it was coming from a window. Excitedly he spurred Barranca towards the tiny speck of hope.
It took ten minutes for Johnny to reach a place where he could see the light seeping through the small window. He tied Barranca to a tree and covered the remaining distance on foot.
Inside the cabin Scott was lying on his side by the fire. His face lathered in sweat, and contorted in pain.
Mitch Harper stood over him, gun in hand; "Hey, Lancer, I've decided to cut my losses and get outta here. I was gonna shoot you but I figure you'd suffer a much better death if I just leave you here with your hands and feet tied," he laughed and lashed out with his foot.
Scott cried out as Harper's foot connected with his right leg and tried to pull away from his tormentor.
Johnny had just reached the window when he heard Scott's cry of pain. He looked in the window just as Harper pulled Scott to his feet. Pulling his gun Johnny tried for a clear shot but was unable to with Harper holding his brother in front of him as a shield. Frustrated Johnny carefully worked his way towards the door. In the darkness he kicked some debris on the porch, the impact astonishingly loud in the quiet air. From inside he heard a muffled curse, followed by an angry voice.
"Who's out there? I got me a gun and a hostage and I'll shoot him if you try to come in here. I swear I'll shoot him."
Johnny stopped at a window and chanced a glance through it. He saw Harper still holding Scott, who appeared to be semi-conscious. Silently he cursed his luck as Harper raised his gun and fired it. The bullet barely missed Johnny's face as he ducked away from the window. He knew things were desperate for his brother and hoped the others had heard the shot.
Murdoch had just poured a coffee when the sound of a gunshot echoed through the darkness. The coffee dropped untouched from his hand. "Johnny," he said worriedly. He hurried to the horses, a step ahead of the other two men.
"Any idea which direction?" Burt asked.
"None. But I'd say it's a safe bet to check out the wolves," Murdoch said, as he saddled his horse. By the time the others had their horses saddled, Murdoch had already moved out. He road steadily for the next ten minutes, worry about his own safety in the darkness forgotten. It wasn't long before he spotted the same speck of light that had caught Johnny's attention a short time ago. He quickened his pace, his heart in his throat.
Johnny knew he had to keep his presence secret until Harper released his brother. He stood by the window holding his breath.
Harper began to relax, as there was no answer to his gunfire. He laughed at the rag-doll like figure in his arms. "Guess it was a wild animal," he said nervously.
Scott heard the words but they didn't register. He knew he didn't have long to live unless a miracle happened. Harper seemed to be growing more and more crazy as the minutes passed. "Johnny," he said, not realizing he'd spoken the name aloud.
Johnny heard Scott faintly calling his name and grinned. 'Nothing can keep a Lancer down,' he thought. Suddenly he heard the sound of horses. He knew there was nothing he could do to warn them to keep quiet so he turned his attention back to the shack. He watched as Harper began to relax and ease his grip on Scott.
Harper was about to drop his burden back to the floor when he heard what sounded like thunder moving towards them. He knew instinctively that it wasn't thunder but the sound of approaching horses. A sudden movement at the window caught his attention and he pulled Scott towards the table, forcing him down in front of him. He tipped the table on its side effectively using it as a shield. "Whoever you are you'd better back off or I'll kill Lancer!" he shouted nervously.
Johnny remained where he was and waited for the newcomers to arrive. He knew if he rushed into the cabin his brother would die.
Murdoch pulled his horse to a halt and hurried towards the shack. Frost and Burt followed closely behind.
Johnny had his finger to his lips as the three men strode towards him. "Scott's inside," he told them simply.
"Let me talk to Harper. Maybe I can make him listen to reason," Frost suggested.
Johnny still didn't trust the older man and shook his head vehemently, "No. You and Burt take the windows and cover us. Murdoch and I will take the door," he whispered.
"Harper'll kill your brother," Frost told him as he turned towards the window. Burt moved to the nearest window and chanced a look inside. Harper saw the movement and quickly fired a shot at the window. Frost caught Burt's body as he fell from the lighted window. He could see the bright crimson stain spreading over his head. Burt's eyes were open but staring sightlessly. Frost knew he was dead.
As Frost caught Burt's body, Johnny took advantage of the distraction and burst through the door. He rolled to the left away from the table, landing behind a broken chair. He fired at the table but knew he didn't hit anything.
Murdoch cast a last glance at Burt, 'sorry my friend,' he thought as he turned back to the door. A volley of gunfire made it impossible for him to enter.
Frost's face contorted in anger. He'd seen enough senseless killing in his life, even done a few himself, and wanted it to end now. He rushed past Murdoch and dove for the table.
Harper saw Frost jump towards him and fired off two shot in rapid succession. He saw the startled look on Frosts face as his bullets found their mark. Frost fell to the floor and lay still, his gun, unfired, in his hand.
Harper pulled Scott on top of himself just as Johnny decided to make his move, "I wouldn't," Harper said coldly.
Murdoch and Johnny stood and watched as Scott was once more pulled to his feet, a gun levelled at his head.
"Let him go!" Johnny said menacingly. His fingers itching to pull the trigger and kill the hated man holding his brother.
"You're in no position to tell me what to do. Throw the guns down or I kill him now."
"Shoot him, Johnny," Scott mouthed through trembling lips.
"Shut up!" Harper said and ground the barrel into Scott's head.
"Do it, Johnny," Scott gasped weakly.
Johnny locked eyes with the man holding his brother. He knew Harper was not leaving the shack with his brother.
Murdoch aimed his gun directly towards Harper. Between the table and his son’s body there was no way for a clear shot. 'Damn!' he thought as he searched for an opening.
The silence in the room was almost unbearable as each man stood his ground. Harper was the first to break the unnatural silence. "Last chance, Lancer, throw the guns down."
Scott's eyes looked pleadingly at his brother. Johnny saw the pain etched on the dirt covered face and dropped his gun. Murdoch did the same.
Harper waved his gun around and laughed harshly. "You fools. I'm gonna kill you all anyway," he said and pointed his gun at Murdoch.
With the speed of lightening, and born of desperation, Johnny reached behind him and pulled out the extra gun he'd placed in his belt. Two gunshots were heard almost simultaneously. Harper and Scott fell to the floor as one.
Murdoch ran to Scott as he called to his younger son, " Johnny are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Murdoch," Johnny said as he stared unbelievingly at the man on the floor. He bent down and lifted Frosts head. "Thank you," he said as he pulled the gun from his hand.
"I had to. I couldn't let him kill another innocent man," Frost said as he closed his eyes for the final time.
Johnny reluctantly let Frost's head fall to the floor and hurried to where Murdoch was cutting the ropes from Scott's hands. One glance at Harper told him the man was dead, twin bullet holes on either side of his head.
"How is he?" Johnny asked.
"Not good, Johnny. He needs a doctor." Murdoch said as he finished with the ropes on Scott's hands.
"I... I'm... f... fine," Scott said tremulously.
"Sure you are, brother," Johnny said as they sat Scott on the floor. Murdoch held his injured son while Johnny examined his back. "This don't look too bad," Johnny said staring into his father's eyes.
Murdoch knew from the look Johnny gave him that Scott's back was bad. He looked into his oldest son’s eyes and could see the pain in them. "Guess we'd better get you cleaned up before we go home," he said.
Scott shook his head weakly. "I want to go home now. I... I don't w... want t.. to stay here."
"Scott," Murdoch said and was rewarded when Scott's eyes once again met his. "I promise we'll get you home. But, first we have to clean your wounds. You'll be fine and we'll have you home in your own bed in no time. All right, Son?"
"Home." Scott said firmly.
"Always knew you had a one track mind, Boston. You're as stubborn as a mule. Now rest easy and we'll go home," Johnny said in the same tone his brother had used.
"Wanna go home," Scott said again and his eyes closed.
Johnny watched his brother close his eyes and worriedly looked at Murdoch, "Is he?" he asked terrified to hear the answer but knowing he had to.
"He's just unconscious," Murdoch said, his own worry evident in his shaky voice.
Between the two men they began to clean Scott's wounds and worried over whether or not he could make the trip back to Lancer in his weakened state.
Johnny heated water and began working on his brother's back. He gently dabbed the cloth as tears fell from his eyes.
Murdoch watched his tough as nails gunfighter son gently caring for the brother he'd only known a few years. The brother he'd known little or nothing about until they'd met on the stage in answer to Murdoch's prayers. "Johnny," he said.
Johnny looked at his father, anger and pain in his own eyes, "How could he?"
Murdoch knew Johnny was asking how Harper could so cruelly treat his brother. He shook his head knowing he didn't have those answers. "Some people are just cruel, Johnny. Harper can't hurt your brother anymore. He's dead. Why don't you get some air and I'll finish up with Scott?"
"No thanks, Murdoch, I need to do this for him. I know he'd do the same for me," Johnny said and turned his attention back to the angry looking lash marks that covered Scott's back and shoulders. "What are you gonna do about Garrett?" he asked.
"I'm not sure. He is Scott's grandfather. If it were up to me I'd send him packing without a word. But I can't do that to Scott. I think Scott finally realizes he belongs here and not in Boston. Harlan doesn't have a chance of convincing your brother to go with him," Murdoch said.
"You sure of that. Garrett doesn't strike me as the kind of man who'll give up easily. He thinks Scott should live in Boston. We know Scott wants to stay but that man would stoop to anything to take him away from us."
"I think Garrett really does love your brother and I'm sure he'll realize that Scott doesn't belong in Boston."
"I hope you're right, Murdoch," Johnny said softly.
"I know I am," Murdoch said, not realizing those words would come back to haunt him over the next few weeks.
Scott heard the conversation but only in snatches. 'Scott's grandfather. .............Scott belongs in Boston.' He recognized Murdoch's voice and it hurt but not as much as the betrayal he felt over Johnny's words. 'Scott should live in Boston.......... Stoop to anything, right Murdoch?.' Scott's fevered mind caught the words and felt as if they were saying they wanted him to live with his grandfather in Boston and they'd do anything to make him leave. "No. Don't wanna g... go... Boston," he cried weakly.
"Don't want to what, Boston?" Johnny asked as he finished with his brother's wounds.
The words came out in fragments and cut Johnny to the core as all he heard were the last three words his brother said " Wanna g... go... Boston," he looked up and knew Murdoch had also heard the three hated words. "He can't be serious," Johnny said.
"It's probably the fever talking. Listen, Johnny," Murdoch said, trying to change the conversation. "I think we're gonna have to spend the night here. It's already dark out and we both need to rest. I'm gonna look around and see if there's anything we can use to make a travois for your brother. I don't think he'll be able to sit a horse."
Johnny stood up and moved towards the door. "I know how to make a travois out of anything, Murdoch. You stay here with, Bos...," the name caught in his throat as he hurried out the door.
Murdoch watched as his youngest son rushed past him. He knew they were in for a long night as he began removing the dead men from the cabin.
They were on the road to Lancer as telltale streaks of dawn came over the sky. Scott had remained in a fevered, unconscious state through the night. He'd moaned in pain as they carried him and lay him on his side on the makeshift travois Johnny had constructed. He'd used bits and pieces of the shack as the beams and had torn up the saddle blankets from the dead men's horses as a type of cushion.
Every mile took its toll on the healthy as well as the injured. Every moan from Scott brought anguished looks between Murdoch and Johnny. The only time they stopped was to force water down Scott's throat and to make sure the blankets weren't pulling away from the beams.
They rode well into the night, each man knowing it was imperative that they get the injured man home. They breathed a collective sigh of relief as they rode through the Lancer gates and up to the main house. Unlike any other night when Johnny had rode home late, the house was well lit.
Johnny jumped tiredly from Barranca's back and hurried to his brother. He listened to the raspy breathing and knew Scott needed the doctor. He turned in time to hear Murdoch ordering one of the hands to go to Morro Coyo and bring Doc Jenkins back.
The door burst open as Harlan Garrett, Teresa O'Brien, and Jelly Hoskins hurried from the house. Three worried people joined the two Lancers as Johnny began removing the bindings that held Scott to the travois. Gently each person placed a loving hand on Scott as they helped lift him. By unspoken agreement they walked into the house and up the stairs to his room.
Tears streamed from Teresa's eyes as she felt the lightness of the body they carried. She could tell Scoot had lost weight as they put him on his bed. "I'll get some water," she said as she turned and hurried from the room. Once outside she let the tears flow freely for herself and Scott. The guilt she'd felt at leaving Scott behind was unfounded but she'd held it inside anyway.
Murdoch looked around the room and knew Scott was in good hands. He followed Teresa out the door knowing she needed him as well. He reached for her shoulders and pulled her close as sobs shook her. "It'll be all right, Teresa," he said.
"I should never have left him," she said as she tightened her grip on Murdoch Lancer.
Murdoch pushed her to arms length and made her meet his eyes. "Now you listen to me, girl. You wouldn't have accomplished anything if you'd stayed with Scott except maybe getting you both killed."
"But look at him," she cried.
"Would your staying have prevented what Harper did?"
"No. But..."
"No, Teresa, you know you couldn't have helped Scott then, but you can now. He needs you," Murdoch said softly.
Teresa wiped the tears from her eyes and without a word hurried down the stairs.
Murdoch turned back to the room just in time to see Harlan Garrett kneel by Scott's bed.
"Scotty, come on boy, wake up," Harlan pleaded. "What have they done to you? I knew I should have made you come back home with me. Look at you now Boy. Whipped like... like a common criminal. Oh, Scotty, as soon as you're able I'm taking you away from this backwoods country to more civilized parts."
"Scott's a grown man, Harlan. He's quite capable of making his own decisions," Murdoch told him.
"Is he? I don't think so. Not when he keeps making the wrong ones. He belongs in Boston with me. At lease he was never hurt there."
"Are you forgetting you're the reason Scott was hurt out here?" Johnny asked. "Seems to me that every time you've come for a visit my brother gets hurt. Maybe you should consider staying in Boston where you belong!"
"I'd never hurt the boy," Garrett said.
"Maybe not. But the people who work for you are the ones that hurt him. First the Degan brothers and now Harper, how many others does Scott have to worry about?"
"You can't be serious? I didn't want Scott hurt," Garrett said as a moan from the bed drew his attention. "Scotty," he said.
Once again snatches of the conversation had reached Scott's consciousness. 'Belongs in Boston,' his grandfather's voice said. 'Scott was hurt out here... Staying in Boston where you belong,' Johnny's voice.
"Scott, "Johnny said and reached out to touch his shoulder.
Scott felt a light touch on his shoulder and the soft voice of his brother. He wondered how Johnny could have betrayed his trust. How could his own brother want to send him away? Tears welled up but he held them in check. The pain of his brother’s and father’s betrayal cut deeper than any of the numerous whip marks on his back. Despair flowed over him and he turned to the welcoming comfort of unconsciousness.
"Scotty," Garrett repeated worriedly.
Teresa came through the door carrying water and towels. She walked to the bed and immediately took charge. "Murdoch, why don't you and the others go get something to eat while I check Scott?" Her words were immediately met with three protests and she held up her hands. "You two," she said pointing at Johnny and Murdoch. "Probably haven't had anything to eat and probably haven't slept in days. You can't help Scott if you get ill. Please go eat. I promise I'll call you if he wakes up."
"I'll stay and help her, Murdoch," Jelly Hoskins said.
"I'm staying," Johnny said forcefully.
"Murdoch, take Johnny and Mr. Garrett out of here," she said, knowing it would be hard for them to see Scott's wounds again.
"Come on, Johnny," Murdoch said. "Let's let Teresa and Jelly fix your brother up until Doc Jenkins arrives."
"No one touches my grandson till the doctor arrives. You people don't know what your doing. Probably do Scott more harm than good."
Johnny's eyes glazed over with anger and fire blazed in their depths, "You may be Scott's grandfather but you're not welcome here."
"How can you let your half-breed son speak to me like that, Murdoch?" Garrett asked indignantly.
Murdoch walked over to the elderly man and grabbed him by the collar of his starched white shirt, "Don't you ever speak to my son that way again. You forget whose house you're in and if you want to stay, you owe Johnny an apology!"
Harlan Garrett realized he'd overstepped his bounds and looked sheepishly around the room, his eyes lighting on Johnny. He swallowed with difficulty as Murdoch tightened his grip, "I... I'm sorry," he said breathlessly and breathed deeply as he felt the vice like grip release its hold.
"Take this out of here. Do you think your fighting is doing Scott any good?" Teresa said angrily.
"You're right, Teresa," Murdoch said as he pointed to the door. "After you, Harlan," he said vehemently.
Garrett stepped through the door without a backward glance. 'I'll find a way to get you away from this wilderness and back home to civilization, Scotty. You don't belong here!' he thought as he rubbed his neck.
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