Warnings/Spoilers: Alternate Reality
Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters and premises of many talented people. Essentially, not ours, no profit being made, etc. This is just for fun.
Thanks to Harrigan, Con, and Andy54 for betaing.
~o~0~o~
May 6, 1865
Johnny wasn't sure what to make of Scott's expression, but he remembered his first look at Lancer from this hill, and figured it wasn't too far from his own reaction. He knew Scott was tired, but was ignoring it or unaware of it. Either way, it didn't matter, his brother showed all the little signs of getting ready for a fall. But Murdoch was watching Scott and reached up his hand to provide support.
Easing Barranca to his brother's side of the buckboard, Johnny positioned himself close by, drumming his fingers on his leg. Didn't make sense that he was feeling all protective of someone he just met, especially for someone grown. Irritated, he shot his brother short glances, before settling on watching him. If he had to go feeling all over protective of someone, Scott was probably the best fit. Once Scott was better, the feeling would go away. Probably. Maybe.
Come to think of it, Johnny thought he'd stop worrying about someone he'd never met once Scott was with them.
~o~0~o~
Scott was lost in soaking up this first view of Lancer, and it wasn't until his legs started to shake that he realized he'd been standing too long. He became aware of Murdoch's hand under his elbow providing a steadying support. It was past time to sit down.
Scott found his voice. "It's impressive, sir." He felt the inadequacy of the statement, but didn't have the words or the coherent thoughts to provide more.
~o~0~o~
The blandness of Scott's response left Murdoch at a loss as he assisted Scott in sitting down again. Bypassing the words, Murdoch instead focused in on the way his son couldn't stop surveying the home that he had never seen. Would Scott understand that he was a big part of the reason how and why Lancer became what it is today?
However, what was more important right now was getting this son fed and tucked into a real bed. Scott did as well as could be expected on this trip.
"You'll have a chance to explore Lancer at your leisure." Murdoch settled the blanket around Scott again. "Right now I'm looking forward to sleeping in a bed again. These bones of mine have had enough of sleeping on the ground."
There was no response from Scott, but Murdoch hadn't expected one. After exchanging a concerned glance with Johnny, they headed home.
~o~0~o~
Johnny was taken aback by the warm, enthusiastic welcome they received. Vaqueros rode up to the buckboard calling out, workers waved from the fields and corrals, and the hacienda doors opened with everyone waving and waiting for them.
"They did the same when I brought you home, Johnny, but were more than a little worried when it was in the back of a wagon." Murdoch brought the team to a stop in front of the hacienda. "Everyone knows that I've waited a long time for you boys to come home."
Seeing that Scott was unsettled by the attention, Johnny managed to keep Barranca between Scott's side of the buckboard and the well-meaning people of the ranch. Scott was polite; but Johnny was overwhelmed, and he was just tired from the traveling. Not surprising that this was more than Scott could handle since he was long past tuckered out. Johnny wasn't certain himself that he would ever get used to all this attention..
This was an awful lot of fuss.
Murdoch was thanking them all, doing a brief check in with O'Brien and Cipriano on how things were on the ranch, and they agreed to meet in the morning. Johnny dismounted amongst the fair number of folks that stayed to unload the buckboard, and one of the hands came forward for Barranca. Johnny stroked his horse's neck in farewell, and worked his way through the throng to Scott, who was climbing down off the wagon.
Murdoch was firing off introductions left and right when Johnny noted the tension in their father. Their father didn't want to be rude to his employees, or dismiss their welcome, but Murdoch was doing his best to deflect much of the attention away from Scott. For the very first time, Johnny considered himself lucky that he arrived unconscious in the back of a wagon. Maybe it was undignified, but it sure saved him from all this.
Scott was just going through the motions. Not that anyone else could tell by the pleasant smile, and the quick handshakes as he accepted his welcome to Lancer; but Johnny could tell his mind wasn't quite on it.
"Later, folks, we want a bath, and I'm starvin'." Johnny slipped in between the well-wishers, who laughed at his announcement and good-naturedly went about unloading the wagon.
Johnny leaned over to whisper in Scott's ear. "I'll remind you who everyone is."
Receiving a grateful nod was enough.
~o~0~o~
Scott's first impression of the house, actually hacienda did seem to describe it better even if he didn't speak the language, was how different this was from Boston. Impressive with its large and airy rooms, he felt like he could still breathe indoors.
People were bustling about talking with both Murdoch and Johnny, although Johnny remained close by his side and diverted any conversation away from Scott. He wasn't sure how it happened, but he soon found himself standing in what was said to be his room.
The large bed looked comfortable, although any bed would as long as he no longer had to sleep on the ground. The thick mat Murdoch and Johnny had provided was appreciated, but within the last couple of years he gained an enlightened respect for the small luxuries in life, and for Scott, there was no greater luxury than to sleep in a clean bed.
There was water, a basin, and towel waiting for him on a washstand and he availed himself of the opportunity to clean up.
The evening was still young and obviously dinner was about to be served downstairs, but Scott was certain he wouldn't make it.
"Scott, do you want anythin' to eat?" Johnny must have had the same thoughts.
He shook his head and wiped his freshly washed face. "Too tired."
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and Murdoch entered the room carrying a mug. "Scott, I know all you want to do is sleep, but you need to eat something. Drink this down before you go to bed."
It was easier to comply than argue, and the creamy soup was warming, filling, and like nothing he had ever tasted before.
The journey, the food, and his lack of stamina had his eyes drooping as he did his best to ready himself for bed.
He just needed to sit down…
~o~0~o~
Watching his brother's head droop down to his chest, Johnny exchanged a glance with Murdoch before they both helped the sleeping young man finish what he had started.
Between the two of them, they removed Scott's dusty suit, leaving him in his under clothing, and within minutes, they had him tucked into bed. Murdoch sat down on the side of the bed palming Scott's forehead to check for fever.
"He's a little warm." Murdoch pushed the limp hair from Scott's forehead. "But that could be from doing too much."
Murdoch looked up at Johnny. "We'll watch him and make sure he rests, and eats plenty, which won't be a problem once Maria and Consuela get a look at him."
Johnny grinned, remembering his own experiences with the women of the hacienda. They downright babied him when he first arrived, and hadn't stopped. He had grown accustomed to it now, and couldn't help liking it more than a little.
"That'll be somethin' to watch. Ol' Scott's all polite and pretty with the words, but I'm not sure he's goin' to like being coddled. "
With a smile of his own, Murdoch looked back to Scott. "Oh, I think you're right about that, and I'm looking forward to when he starts chaffing at the restrictions we'll impose on him for now."
A strange anxiety rose up in Johnny. "He'll get better?"
His father turned his attention back to him, and reached out with his one of his large hands to lightly grip Johnny's forearm. A simple touch that provided a surprising amount of comfort and one Johnny was just starting to get used to.
"We'll see to it." Murdoch had that look again, the one that made things happen. Then his face lit up, and his tone was lighter. "One of these days you'll find yourself chasing after him."
~o~0~o~
Murdoch stayed with Scott during the night, dosing off in the large chair and footstool he had arranged in the room. Any movement from Scott and he was awake. At one particular time, Scott grew agitated, and recalling Johnny's actions back on the trail, Murdoch eased down on the bed behind him. Spreading his hand across his son's thin back, he soothed the tension out in slow steady circles, and was pleased when Scott dropped into an even deeper slumber without ever waking.
Around two in the morning, Johnny snuck into the room, wearing a sheepish expression when he noticed Murdoch sitting in the chair.
"I just…" Johnny looked down as he let what he was going to say trail off.
Murdoch knew exactly what 'I just' meant. "Scott's had a couple restless moments, but he never truly woke up. He's cooler now than when he went to bed. However, I've still arranged for someone to head out at first light to fetch Sam."
Nudging over Murdoch's socked feet on the large hassock, Johnny sat down and made himself comfortable, but kept his eyes on Scott. The young man had something on his mind, and Murdoch waited to see if his son would say what it was.
The wait took a while and Murdoch was dozing a little when Johnny asked, "Was this how it always felt to you?"
Opening his eyes, he saw that Johnny was still watching Scott, but there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before.
"The worry?" Murdoch welcomed the opening Johnny provided.
A slight nod was all he received in return.
"Yes, only worse. I had a different, more painful worry when it came to you. It was the not knowing. Back then I knew Scott was at least somewhere safe. I worried for both you and your mother. I could never forgive her for taking you away, but that didn't mean I wasn't concerned for her welfare. It's hard to stop loving someone simply because they do something you don't like."
The easing in Johnny's shoulders again assured Murdoch that he was using the right words.
"Then to find out Scott was in the war and a prison camp…" Murdoch swallowed hard on those thoughts. Seeing the aftermath in Scott's body was all the proof he needed that there had been reason to be worried out of his mind for his eldest son.
"I kept telling myself that if I had found you and you were now home… then Scott would be too."
Giving Johnny's hip a little prod with his foot, Murdoch thought back to his son's recovery. "The first day you were here and getting back on your feet was like seeing you take your first steps all over again.
"Now to have Scott home…" Murdoch sighed. "Even with the trip and not sleeping in my own bed tonight, I can't remember the last time I felt this relaxed. You've always been together in my mind, but having you both here fills up more than a couple of rooms in this place."
Patting the top of Murdoch's foot, Johnny whispered, "Good-night, Murdoch." And with a brief touch to Scott's leg, he left as quietly as he had arrived.
~o~0~o~
May 7, 1865
As morning approached, Murdoch closed the curtains on the windows to keep the room darker and allow Scott to continue to sleep. Barring a couple of restless moments, the young man slept for over ten hours, much like he had that first night after he and Johnny had met Scott.
Sitting down beside the bed, Murdoch took the opportunity to study his son. As with Johnny, he found himself wondering what Scott had looked like as a child. He accepted that he would always wonder what could have been, but he pushed aside the bitterness that came with it. He had them both here, and that was more than he allowed himself to hope for in years.
Sighing, he knew he was going to have to talk with Maria and Consuela before they met Scott. The two of them would take one look at his older son and be all over him to eat, rest, and eat some more. Where Johnny had been a little overwhelmed by the initial attention, he was pragmatic enough not to refuse food when it was offered. The women mothered the boy, and eventually Johnny accepted that they only cared for him and wanted to see him healthy.
Murdoch had a feeling Scott wasn't going to follow the same path; doubting that Scott had much experience with the enthusiastic 'mothering' Maria and Consuela would provide. No, he would need to request that the women start off gently with Scott. But as Murdoch studied his son's long bony fingers, he thought that would be hard for all them to do.
It seemed with Johnny that there was a part of the boy that wanted a father, and that gave Murdoch the edge he needed to build the relationship he should have had with his younger son all these many years. They had a ways to go, Murdoch had no illusions about that, but he knew he had a chance.
With Scott, he didn't see any of the child left in him. He surmised that some of this was due to his experience in the war and prison, but he didn't know his older son well enough to be sure.
Drawn out of his musings by Scott stirring on the bed, Murdoch waited for him to wake. The blue eyes blinked open and shifted to confused, before they focused on Murdoch.
"Good morning, Scott." Murdoch reached to the nightstand to pour a glass of water.
"Good morning, sir." Scott sounded hoarse. Murdoch helped him settle into a comfortable sitting position, and then handed him the water.
~o~0~o~-
Scott drank down the refreshing water and felt more aware. Handing the glass back to Murdoch with thanks, he looked about the room he ignored the night before.
"How are you feeling this morning?"
Well, Murdoch warned him that he would be asking that question often.
"Better, sir." Although true, Scott felt lethargic. He was curious about Lancer, but he doubted he would be up to much that day. He hated to admit it, but the journey had taken a toll on him.
"Good to hear." Murdoch set the glass back on the nightstand. "How about taking it easy today? It was a tiring trip and we all need to recover."
About that time they heard an excited 'whoop' coming from the open window.
Murdoch looked out the window. "Well, maybe not Johnny." He turned away from the window, and gave a warm smile to Scott.
Curious, and wondering if he was remembering what was said upon their arrival, Scott decided to ask since they were alone. "Did I hear correctly that Johnny was brought ho… here in the back of a wagon?" He couldn't miss the anger and sorrow that flitted across Murdoch's face.
"A few days before we were to arrive home, Johnny was shot in the back by an enemy of his."
Shot! He had seen a several boys hardly older than Johnny lose their lives in the war, but Scott couldn't understand someone shooting anyone in the back.
"The man who shot him?"
"He won't be troubling anyone again." Murdoch was calm, and if what Scott suspected was true, completely without remorse. Scott wouldn't judge his father's actions since he honestly couldn't find any compassion for Johnny's assailant.
"I imagine you might like a bath and to shave." Murdoch was also adept at changing the subject.
As a diversion, it was a good one. A bath sounded divine and Scott wanted to be clean-shaven. He'd made it a point since being released from the Confederate prison to remain clean and well-dressed. He never wanted to see the bedraggled man who left that prison ever again.
"Yes, sir. That sounds wonderful."
~o~0~o~
The hacienda's amenities were quite different from what Scott was used to in Boston, but they were a luxury all the same. He took his time soaking in the tub and scrubbing until his skin was red.
After that, he was exhausted and crawled back into a freshly made bed smelling of sunshine and clean air. He recalled meeting the local doctor, but couldn't remember his name or anything else for the rest of the day.
~o~0~o~
May 8, 1865
"He still asleep?" Johnny stood in his brother's bedroom doorway, twirling the hat in his hands by its brim.
Murdoch looked up from his book and focused his attention on his younger son to see him covered in dust, and with every indication that he had once again thrown himself into ranch life.
Literally.
As usual, it never failed to make him smile. The grubby toddler he remembered wasn't as far removed as he thought, and it gave him hope.
"Yes, he's been awake to eat a little, but tends to fall asleep before he finishes." Murdoch gently ran his hand over Scott's hair. "I think he left Boston too soon and all this travel was too much for him."
"Ah, Murdoch, we don't know him well, but he's stubborn." Johnny leaned against the doorframe. "Think Scott was gonna do what he wanted to do whether he was ready or not."
"Why did he come now?" Murdoch mused, more to himself than to Johnny.
Straightening from the doorway, Johnny grinned. "He'll tell us eventually." Putting on his hat and turning to leave, he added, "We're stubborn too."
~o~0~o~
May 10, 1865
Scott was a little surprised to discover that he had bypassed days by sleeping them away. He remembered eating, never quite finishing, and then falling asleep again.
Yawning, he had a feeling today was going to turn out the same way.
~o~0~o~
May 15, 1865
The days followed a pattern since arriving at Lancer.
Scott found he was and wasn't a part of things: More like he was part of what had to be taken care of on the ranch. He spent most of his time in his room and hadn't even explored the hacienda yet.
Maria and Consuela made sure he ate and rested at regular intervals. Murdoch checked on him to make sure Scott was doing what he should to regain his health. Dr. Jenkins examined him every few days since his arrival. He was due again today.
Johnny, well, Johnny wasn't part of the regular anything, and Scott enjoyed Johnny's unscheduled visits. His brother had a way of checking up on him that was less irritating than all the other attention.
Scott couldn't begrudge the care he received and knew it was needed. With his slow recovery, at least to him, Scott's long lost self-esteem was also struggling to come back. Some of it was sheer pride, and he hated the continuing need for others to care for him, even as he was grateful for it.
Watching the inner workings of such a large ranch from his window was both fascinating and intimidating. Scott knew nothing about ranching or the work that was needed to maintain such an enterprise. He felt like he didn't belong in such a place.
He couldn't see how that would change.
~o~0~o~
"How is he?" Murdoch stopped pacing the great room when Sam walked in.
Setting down his bag, Sam motioned for Murdoch to sit down by the fireplace and took a seat himself. "He's improving. He's gaining strength and tells me he is sleeping better." Rubbing his worn doctor's bag, Sam looked thoughtful before bringing his attention back to Murdoch. "Murdoch, the trip set him back some and he can't afford to have any setbacks. He simply doesn't have the reserves. And yet, coming to this type of climate was probably the best thing for him."
"We'll see to it that he follows your recommendations."
"You should also take into consideration that this son could easily become as bored as Johnny was during his recuperation. He needs some activity to keep his mind occupied. He's a very bright young man. Starting tomorrow, he could spend time down here, and some brief time outside as long as the weather is dry and warm. I think he's feeling a little lost staying in his room and needs interaction with others."
"I'd like to show him around the immediate area and have him get to know the place." Murdoch was anxious to have Scott feel at home. That wasn't going to happen until he could spend time around other areas of the ranch and, more importantly, with other people.
"Good idea, just watch that he doesn't push himself."
"I will. Thanks, Sam."
"Aside from his health, how is it going?"
"He's distant, but so was Johnny at first. I'm… hopeful."
"As well you should be." Sam smiled as he stood up. "It says a lot about his determination that he made the trip. He's not in denial about his condition, but he didn't let it stop him. Seems to run in the family."
~o~0~o~
May 16, 1865
Chewing on the stampede strap, Johnny watched Murdoch and Scott from the doorway, unwilling to admit the emotion he felt watching as the two men talked. Scott had come downstairs, and was lounging on what Johnny still considered the hugest piece of furniture in the world, while Murdoch sat in the leather chair by the fireplace. He didn't understand what they were talking about, and was unfamiliar with the subject. The low timber of their voices was soothing, but Johnny felt his insides twist with anxiety.
He could admit to being jealous of the ease in which Scott could talk to their father. Maybe they didn't get personal and all that, but they shared interests that Johnny didn't have any idea about. He wasn't that much of a bastard to begrudge Scott Murdoch's attention. His brother needed it, but Johnny wasn't sure where he fit in now.
"Johnny!"
At Murdoch's call, Johnny's head shot up to meet his father's smiling face across the room.
"Come join us. Maria's bringing some lemonade, and you look like you could use it." Murdoch waved him in.
Johnny salivated at the thought of the cool drink. Maria made it better than anyone.
Scott had his legs stretched out, but he brought his knees up to make room for Johnny to sit: a welcoming smile on his face. Not that it was necessary, the couch was more than long enough; but Johnny understood his brother didn't mind him close, and truth was, Johnny didn't mind it either.
Scott had an easy way about him in spite of the very proper way he carried himself, and right now he looked just a little bit relieved if Johnny wasn't mistaken. Remembering his early days with Murdoch, and the strain of talking with a father he didn't know, he suddenly understood his arrival was a welcome one.
"Johnny, stay for awhile. From what Paul has told me, you've already put in a full day." There was no doubting Murdoch's pleasure, and Johnny flushed a little at the pride he heard in his father's voice.
Scott toed him in the thigh. "Show off."
Murdoch laughed, and Johnny ducked his head down grinning.
Maybe they were all wondering where they fit.
~o~0~o~
May 18, 1865
Scott took a deep breath of the aromatic herb garden situated just off the kitchen's back door. It was early, an hour before dawn, but the dream had been one that wouldn't let him fall back to sleep. He felt the need to get out of bed.
He explored the house in the pre-dawn light and ended up in the kitchen. Maria would be arriving soon, and he wanted to take advantage of the peace to be found at this time of the morning. The outdoors beckoned him, and he inhaled the fresh air. Not that the house was closed up. In fact more often than not the windows were wide open, and the house appeared more a part of the outdoors than a structure to keep the elements out.
Further back in the garden he found a lounge type chair positioned under the larger shade trees and hidden from the house. A table sat beside it, and the chair's cushions looked invitingly soft. Curious, he tested them out, and found them as comfortable as he thought they would be. Just as Scott wiggled down into the cushions, he heard his brother's voice call out to him.
"Hey, you found your spot." Johnny entered the sheltered area with a grin, tucking his shirt into his jeans.
"My spot?"
"Yeah, Murdoch had this made up for you. Wanted to give you a place to hide when the motherin' got too much." Grinning, Johnny plunked down at the end by Scott's feet. "Between you and me, I think the ol' man don't like it any better than we do."
"Maria and Consuela are rather intense." Scott thought back on the rapid Spanish, the flurry of colorful skirts, and the absence of any personal choice when the two women decided on a course of action.
"And they'll find you here, but Murdoch made it clear that sometimes a fellow needs some time to himself. They'll leave you be for the most part."
"Morning, boys." As one, they looked to Murdoch who was putting on his hat as he walked towards them. "Scott, you ready to see the place?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Might as well start at the barns; there's a few chores to be done before breakfast."
Johnny groaned and stood up, offering a distracted hand to Scott. "Murdoch, you sure do know how to shatter a peaceful mornin'."
Pulled to his feet, Scott caught the hat Murdoch tossed to him, studied the western design, and placed it on his head.
"And you, my son, know how to shatter any peace. I am merely returning the favor."
"Ol' man, you'd be so bored without me and you know it."
Scott watched his father's step falter, and then Murdoch was grinning as he hooked an arm around Johnny's neck, pulling him off balance.
"True." Murdoch ruffled the dark hair and released Johnny when he squawked. "Very true."
Johnny huffed, and pulled his own hat on. Scott couldn't help laughing at his indignant scowl.
His brother pointed a finger at him. "Don't you encourage him. Got all I can handle with His Bigness now."
Murdoch raised a brow. "His Bigness? Hmm… His Bigness." He looked thoughtful, and then nodded. "Yes, that is appropriate."
Johnny tossed up his hands and headed off, muttering in Spanish the entire way to the barn while Murdoch and Scott followed behind.
And this was the morning Scott was introduced to Lancer.
~o~0~o~
May 20, 1865
"Scott, do you ride?" Murdoch asked.
"A little."
"Well, Boston, we'll find you an easy-going pony to start off with."
"That'll have to wait until Scott is stronger." Murdoch was quick to add since he was concerned about seeing his older son on any horse at the moment.
"Thank you, I'm sure I'll manage when the time comes."
Murdoch glanced behind Scott's back to see Johnny dismayed look and mouthing, "A little?"
~o~0~o~
May 28, 1865
Life was so active on Lancer. Unlike Garrett Industries, Lancer required daily labor to run smoothly. Today was Sunday, and Scott noticed a lessening of activities as many of the families went to church, but there were others still working.
Over the last week or so, he met many of the people his father employed, along with some of their families. As promised, Johnny reminded him of the people he met when he first arrived, but that was a handful compared to the rest. Many of them lived and worked on the ranch.
It was apparent that his father believed as he did, that a person wasn't judged by how they looked or how they spoke. Given that he had fought in a war to accomplish that very thing, Scott was relieved to see it happening on his father's ranch. Murdoch treated everyone with the same consideration and respect. For his efforts, he had a crew that worked hard for Lancer.
Scott didn't have as much faith that the war would result in the same throughout the country.
~o~0~o~
June 5, 1865
As had become a habit, Johnny, out of sight, listened as Sam reported on Scott's condition to Murdoch.
"He's much improved from a couple of weeks ago, Murdoch. He's gained weight. Whatever Consuela and Maria are feeding him it's working as well on him as it did with Johnny."
"It's less spicy." Murdoch's tone was relieved and humorous, but then turned serious. "We still avoid corn. It's best if he isn't around the kitchen when they're making tortillas."
"That may never change."
"It doesn't matter if it never does." Johnny could hear the worry creep into Murdoch's voice. "But he still looks so damn fragile."
"That's just appearances. You should know that by now. You have strong sons, Murdoch, and they keep proving that over and over."
Johnny missed hearing what Murdoch said next, but it sounded like their visit was about over.
"I'll come back in a week unless you need me before then."
Johnny slipped away.
~o~0~o~
June 17, 1865
Murdoch was surprised to see Sam driving his buggy under the archway so bright and early in the morning. He hadn't been expecting the doctor for another few days. He was even more surprised to see Johnny slouched in the seat beside him. Heading outside, he waited for them.
As Sam reined the buggy to a stop in front of the house, Murdoch could see the bruises on Johnny's face. "What happened?"
"Just a little Friday night fun, Murdoch." Johnny fumbled his way out of the buggy.
"It's Saturday!" Murdoch looked to Sam for an explanation.
"Johnny and some of the boys got into a little trouble in the saloon last night. Nothing serious, but enough that the Sheriff decided to let them sleep it off in the jail. I thought I'd bring this one back home."
"You snuck into town last night?" Murdoch struggled to hold his anger in check. What was a sixteen-year-old doing in a saloon on a Friday night? He shook off the idiocy of such a question and focused on Johnny.
"No sneakin' involved. I just didn't tell you."
Murdoch had to hold the anger a little tighter. "Under no circumstances is it all right for you to go to the saloon with the hands. You're too young."
"Been goin' to saloons for a couple of years now." Johnny straightened in front of him. "Don't need you tellin' me I can't."
"I'm your father!" Murdoch was livid. He hadn't known, hadn't been there, and Johnny could have been hurt.
"Well, you weren't there to stop me before. Kinda late to think that way now."
Murdoch hadn't seen this side of Johnny in months -- it wasn't helping. "You are a sixteen-year-old boy. No saloons unless you're with me! You are living here now and under my rules."
Johnny stared him down. "That can change!"
Murdoch knew their discussion was about to get out of hand, and was grateful when Sam stepped between them. "Murdoch, Johnny, why not have this conversation when you've both calmed down some."
Murdoch noticed Johnny's attention was diverted, and followed his gaze to see Scott standing in the doorway. He had to have heard everything.
"You all right, Johnny?" Scott asked his brother.
"Nothin' but a little scuffle, Brother." Johnny's demeanor completely changed.
"Wouldn't hurt you to clean up. Looking a little over used, and I can smell you from here."
"One of 'em decided to break a bottle over my head."
The anger drained away upon hearing his younger son's nonchalant statement. Murdoch looked at Johnny's head to find the wound.
"So you hardly felt it," Scott deadpanned.
"Very funny. I stopped the bottle before it hit me, but not the whiskey."
"Well, I wouldn't recommend it as cologne." Scott waved a hand in front of his nose.
"Cologne?"
Murdoch distracted Johnny when he touched his swelling eye. "Are you all right, Johnny?"
Hissing, he moved away from Murdoch's hand. "I'm fine, Murdoch. Just need some sleep."
"I'll have Consuela make you a poultice for the swelling while you get cleaned up." He ran a hand through Johnny's hair just to make sure there wasn't something hidden, flicking out a piece of glass.
Johnny allowed it for the amount of time it took for him to walk around his father and into the hacienda. Murdoch watched as Scott fell into step beside his brother.
Turning to Sam, Murdoch gestured towards the house. "Thanks for bringing Johnny home, Sam. How about some breakfast?"
"Yes, thank you. I'll check on Scott while I'm here."
As they entered the house, Murdoch knew they had dodged an ugly confrontation this time, but he was worried. They hadn't come to agreement, and Murdoch wasn't sure how to have this conversation with Johnny. His younger son was right; he was an adult in everything but his age.
~o~0~o~
Sam watched the silent, pensive young man button his shirt up.
"Scott, you're progressing well. I know I've said it before, but time is all it takes at this point, and to be aware of your limitations in the meantime."
Scott's head swung up, puzzled. "My apologies, Doctor, my mind was elsewhere. What did you say?"
Sam repeated what he'd said, and added, "Johnny will be fine. I'll check on him again before I leave."
"Good." Scott sighed, standing up from the bed, his mind obviously slipping away once more.
"Scott, what is it?"
Scott crossed his arms, his expression uneasy. "Many boys joined the war. Lied about their age, but both sides were so desperate for men that they ignored the obvious. Some of those boys –" Scott shook his head as if to dispel the memories. "I felt so old next to them. Johnny makes me feel like that sometimes."
"Johnny is a very capable young man, and can take care of himself very well." Which Sam had witnessed the previous evening: Quite well, in fact. His opponents hadn't faired nearly so well.
A wry smile lit Scott's face, eyes dark with memories. "So were those boys after a few months, but being capable doesn't stop one from dying. Sometimes, it was just a simple little thing and the next moment they're gone."
~o~0~o~
Johnny wasn't in his room, so Sam ventured downstairs to the kitchen where the tension hit him like a physical thing. Seated at the table was Johnny holding a poultice to face, while Murdoch was a towering statue of unease by the fireplace. Maria ignored it all, cooking and muttering in Spanish under her breath.
Sam plunked his bag down on the table harder than necessary, but it did have the desired effect of gaining their attention. "Come to a truce, gentlemen, and soon. Scott doesn't need this stress -- neither do you -- but Scott must be a priority here."
"Scott--"
Sam cut Murdoch off. "Is worried about you both, mostly about Johnny."
Johnny frowned. "He don't need to be."
"Johnny, need doesn't have anything to do with this. Your brother saw young men of your age and younger die, and in ways that had nothing to do with actual fighting." Sam gripped his bag and leaned forward. "I've had colleagues write to me describing the conditions. A mere cut easily became infected and a man died. I'm sure intellectually Scott knows that it isn't so precarious here, but he's spent too much time guarding against such things to be able to let those fears go. So, truce, gentlemen. Now."
~o~0~o~
Sam left the room, leaving Murdoch and Johnny to stare after him. Maria muttered something else, nodding her head in obvious agreement.
"Murdoch?"
"Yes."
"Were we just scolded?"
"I believe so." Murdoch fought down the smile, and sat down across from his son. "Johnny, why'd you go to town?"
With one eye covered, the other looked at him before watching his free hand write patterns on the table. "Don't mean to worry you."
"I'm realizing that, but why?"
The hand stilled, and Johnny looked up. "Gets to be too much sometimes."
"The ranch, me, what?"
"All of it." Johnny scowled. "Don't have the words for it, and if I explain, it'll come out wrong."
That, Murdoch understood all too well. He looked into that one blue eye, eyes like his, and felt the beginning of understanding his younger son. They weren't so different, maybe quite a lot alike, and his own youthful days paraded across his mind: That drive to live and experience anything and everything.
"You don't have to." At Johnny's startled expression, Murdoch smiled. "I was young once." A glint appeared in the uncovered eye, and Murdoch shook his head. "And no, I will not tell you about it."
Johnny smiled and lifted the poultice away from his face. "Next time, I'll let you know when I go."
Murdoch nodded. "I'd appreciate that, and even more if you didn't go."
"Do my best."
"So will I."
Johnny slumped back in his chair. "I didn't know there would be all this negotiatin'."
Murdoch laughed outright. "Wait until you're married."
~o~0~o~
Scott wasn't sure if he was relieved or worried at the very amicable breakfast he took part in. Father and son had come to some type of understanding, to the point Johnny had the entire table laughing with last evening's exploits. Sam pointed out the exaggerations Johnny slipped in.
Scott tried to visualize his grandfather in this same situation, and admitted that he lacked the imagination to do it.
~o~0~o~
July 10, 1865
"It's ungodly hot here at this time of year." Scott sat down in his lounge chair and took a long drink of lemonade. He tossed his hat on the table.
As had become habit, Johnny sat down on the end of the lounger. He was dusty and sweaty from working with the horses, and relished the shade. "Never been any place this hot before?" He knew before he finished saying it what the answer was and regretted it. "Never mind that."
"How do you know?"
Johnny met his brother's shuttered look. Couldn't side step that one and still feel good about himself. "Murdoch showed me on a map where he thought the prison camp was located. Were you kept inside or outside?"
"Inside."
"Then it was hot and miserable. You were thirsty all the time, couldn't sleep, and the bugs were awful."
"First hand experience?"
"Yep."
Johnny was grateful Scott left it at that.
~o~0~o~
July 30, 1865
Knowing he was late no matter what he did, Johnny tried to save time by cutting across the range to the main road leading to Lancer, and discovered he'd be sharing the road with a buggy. It looked like one from the Morro Coyo livery.
Catching up, he rode alongside and found a distinguished elderly man handling the horse. Upon seeing Johnny, he pulled the buggy to a stop.
"You, boy, is this the road to Lancer?" He took the moment to swipe his handkerchief across his face.
Easing back in the saddle, Johnny studied the old coot until he turned a little redder than the heat had caused before answering.
"Yeah." Johnny put on his most annoying drawl. "I'm headed there. I'll show you the rest of the way, Mister…?"
"Garrett, Harlan Garrett." His entire demeanor screamed impatience and irritation. "Let's be off then, boy."
Mierda.
~o~0~o~
Impertinent boy: Harlan was disgusted, as he had been since arriving in California. What could he expect in this backwater state of uneducated people? The boy riding next to him was certainly no exception. The sidearm was proof enough that he was dealing with one of the many illiterate habitants who survived by violence. Harlan was forced to deal with many such men since making this journey.
Once again, he questioned Scotty's mental state for making this trip. His grandson wasn't in the physical condition needed for difficult travel, but Harlan was assured that his grandson had arrived at Lancer.
Lancer.
Would he never be rid of the taint of that name? The fact that his grandson carried it was only due to honoring the wishes of his daughter. To him, Scotty was a Garrett, and would always be a Garrett.
~o~0~o~
He couldn't shoot Scott's grandpa.
Scott and Murdoch were just getting comfortable around each other, and it wasn't easy with neither of them being the talking type.
Murdoch was so nervous about making a wrong move that he wasn't saying the things Scott needed to hear -- that Johnny needed to hear. Johnny knew enough about Garrett to know the man wouldn't care, in fact he'd probably prefer, that Scott didn't have time to get to know his father.
Now wasn't the time for Garrett to come visiting.
He'd never said anything to Scott, but it was clear to him that Harlan Garrett was manipulative and as dangerous as any gunfighter Johnny had come across: Didn't need a gun to destroy lives.
~o~0~o~
Murdoch rejoined Scott standing by the large window in the great room. He had spent time working on the ledgers only to end up back at the window a short time later.
Scott didn't bother with the pretence of doing other things to keep occupied. Arms crossed, he stood still and silent watching the road. Murdoch hadn't seen a noticeable change in his position for the last half hour.
"What would cause Johnny to be this late?" Scott asked, breaking the silence of the last hour or so. He didn't move, and his tone was thoughtful, but the tension in his shoulders gave away his unease.
"Numerous things," Murdoch said in what he hoped was a calm tone. "Barranca could have thrown a shoe; he might not have finished as quickly as planned, or simply Johnny was not paying attention to the time. He's still getting used to making plans by the clock."
"How many times have you run these scenarios through your mind in the last hour?"
"Too many to count, Son."
~o~0~o~
Once the Lancer arch was in sight, Johnny looked to Garrett. "Mr. Garrett, I'll let them know to expect you."
Without allowing time for a response, Johnny nudged Barranca into a gallop and headed home. He needed to at least give Murdoch fair warning of what was coming.
~o~0~o~
Murdoch saw Scott's shoulders relax, and took the first easy breath he had in over an hour.
Johnny was home.
Pivoting on his heels, Scott dropped his arms as he headed for the closest door leading outside while Murdoch set the ledger back on the desk and followed him out.
Johnny was galloping in with a sense of urgency that had Murdoch studying his son and horse for any anomalies. Johnny reined in and was off Barranca before the horse stopped. When the blue eyes settled on him, Murdoch knew he wasn't going to like what came next.
"Harlan Garrett's comin' for a visit." Pushing his hat off to settle on his back, Johnny turned to Scott. "He'll be along in a minute."
"Grandfather?"
Murdoch could see Scott was as stunned, but was sure it was more from being surprised than anything else. Murdoch could have gone the rest of his life without seeing Catherine's father again, and he was sure the feeling was mutual. There was only one reason for Harlan to make the trip to California. That reason was standing a couple feet away from Murdoch.
"Scott, I haven't asked this before now, but did your grandfather know you were coming here?" Seeing Scott duck his head, so much like Johnny was prone to do, was answer enough. "Son, I think we can assume he isn't happy that he had to track you down."
Scott looked back to him. "I did tell him I was going to a warmer climate to help in my recovery. I've written to him."
"In other words, you haven't informed him that you came here."
"No, sir." Scott folded his arms, and shifted his stance to stand straighter. "It was my decision to make and it was the right one. I wasn't improving in Boston."
Moving close to Scott, Murdoch rested his hands on his son's shoulders. "And I'm glad you did. But why do you think he's here?"
~o~0~o~
"He is probably worried about me." Scott knew his abrupt departure would concern his grandfather, but he still felt it was the right decision.
Murdoch took a step closer to him. "Son." The gentleness to his father's voice was alarming. "He's here to take you back to Boston."
"Sir, I can make my own decisions." He searched Murdoch's gaze attempting to understand the genuine worry he saw there.
"Yes, I believe that, but the law doesn't side with you."
"The law?"
"Scott, you're not twenty-one. Your grandfather has legal guardianship over you."
"He wouldn't force me to return with him if I didn't wish to go." Surely, that wouldn't come to pass? In spite of recent revelations, Scott couldn't believe his grandfather wouldn't understand his wishes.
"I'm glad to hear it, and it needs to be said again that I want you to stay." But Scott sensed Murdoch wasn't as confident that his grandfather would allow it.
"He's comin'." Scott met Johnny's eyes, noted the apprehension in his brother, and together they watched Harlan make his way to the house.
Scott had the sensation of opportunities slipping away. They hadn't talked. Not about the truly important things. There were so many questions Scott wanted to ask, and he didn't know where to start, and now there wasn't time. He thought he'd have time. He pulled away from Murdoch to meet the incoming buggy.
~o~0~o~
Murdoch couldn't mute the devastation he felt as he watched Scott walk away from him and towards his grandfather. They hadn't enough time to get to know each other, to talk about the past and the reasons behind some difficult decisions. But Scott was right – his health had improved since coming home.
Would it be enough for Garrett to see that Scott belonged at Lancer? Murdoch doubted it. If Harlan couldn't see that twenty years ago, he wouldn't acknowledge it now.
~o~0~o~
Johnny moved to stand by Murdoch's side as they both watched Scott walk towards the buggy. "You don't think it matters what Scott says."
"Harlan may just be worried about Scott, especially knowing what he's been through in the past months."
With a soft huff, Johnny looked up at Murdoch and could see the unease, like he was watching an approaching storm. The feeling was the same. "You don't believe that any more than I do. And I don't have a history with the man."
Murdoch's face took on a blank look that Johnny disliked to see on him. It was one Murdoch used to brace himself for whatever bad was coming next, and bad was pulling right up beside Scott in a buggy.
~o~0~o~
Noticing one of the workers approaching, Harlan was more than ready to hand off the conveyance, find his grandson in this abominable place, and talk some sense into him.
"Grandfather."
Startled, Harlan looked closer at the worker to see Scotty smiling out from under the western hat. "Scotty." He reached out a hand to shake his grandson's and was surprised by the firm grip. Scotty pulled off his hat with his other hand, and Harlan was able to look at him.
The smile was wide, genuine, and welcoming, his eyes no longer sunken and the dark circles were gone. Scotty was still thin, but not worryingly so. He stood straighter and steadier. He was much improved from the last time Harlan had seen him, and he was grateful to see it.
On the heels of that thought, was resentment that Scotty's improvement occurred at Lancer, with Murdoch.
"Scotty, it is so good to see you. I've been extremely worried about you."
"I'm sorry, Grandfather, but I had to leave."
"But to come here? It was far too long of a trip." Harlan couldn't prevent the chastisement in his tone. After receiving the first couple of telegrams and letter, he suspected Scotty had headed for California. What had Murdoch Lancer said that would undo all his meticulous planning to keep Scotty away from his father?
"I needed to come here for more than one reason. I wanted to meet my father, or as it turns out my family."
"I'm your family, Scotty."
"Yes. Yes, you are." Scott met his eyes and resting there was the stubbornness that was when he returned home after the conflict. "However, I have other family now as well, and I couldn't ignore that."
Murdoch Lancer approached. "Harlan. This is a surprise."
"Yes, I'm sure it is." Harlan looked the man over, finding his hair was grayer, his face more lined than he recalled, but that had been many years ago. "I needed to find Scotty. This trip of his was ill advised."
Resting a hand on Scott's shoulder, Murdoch met his gaze. "I won't argue the point, but his time here has improved his health, and I'm grateful to have him home."
Home? Not likely.
"Grandfather, you must be tired and hot from your journey. Why don't we go inside."
"Yes, of course, Harlan. You're welcome to stay here."
Good, this would make things easier. Traveling back and forth from town would be inconvenient. "Thank you, Murdoch." He climbed out of the buggy as a hand came up to the take care of the horse.
"First, Grandfather, I'd like you to meet my brother, Johnny." Scott pulled the young man who led Harlan to the ranch to his side. "Johnny, this is my grandfather, Harlan Garrett."
"Yes, we've met." Harlan studied the boy closer and could see his mixed heritage. Yes, he knew all about him, and he doubted Scotty had been told the truth.
So much the better.
~o~0~o~
The old man was nothing but trouble. Johnny shook Garrett's hand, but he knew he was being checked over and dismissed. As far as Garrett was concerned, Murdoch Lancer was the only obstacle he needed to get past.
Johnny figured he may change Harlan's mind about that.
~o~0~o~
Dinner was… stressful. Johnny's shoulders had crawled up to his ears by the time the meal was over. Garrett was polite, but there was an edge to the man, one that could cut if you weren't careful. Johnny didn't trust the way he'd slip-slide around questions, and how he'd reel Scott in with news of Boston, leaving Murdoch and Johnny to listen. Scott always tried to pull them into the conversation, and never failed to explain who they spoke about or the situation. He made it entertaining too, but it was awkward. Johnny had no doubt that was exactly the way Garrett intended it to be.
Murdoch was concerned, and did his best to hide it. Scott was pulled in a couple of directions, and Murdoch held back in an effort not to make things worse. But it didn't matter. Things were worse, and Scott hadn't the time to know Murdoch, to see what his father was trying to do. So Scott floundered, and Murdoch worried. Harlan just smiled that oily smile of his and Johnny wanted to whack him over the head with the meat platter.
If nothing else, at least the meal would have ended sooner.
~o~0~o~
Relieved, Murdoch saw Harlan was settled for the night. He wanted to check on Scott before turning in, but found Harlan doing the same thing. Irritated, Murdoch left and decided to look in on Johnny. He didn't doubt that he would earn an eye roll, but his younger son had done an admirable job of holding in his dislike for Harlan.
An invite to enter answered his knock, and he poked his head in Johnny's room to see his son standing in the center of his room, eyebrow raised.
"I'm not gonna shoot him. No matter how much he deserves it." The tone was defensive, and Murdoch couldn't help the chuckle.
"You are a better man than I." Murdoch entered, closing the door behind him. Johnny's mutinous expression turned hopeful.
"That mean you'll shoot him?"
"Sadly, no. We must think of your brother, not to mention the messy ramifications of such an action."
"Catch him outside. We'll just kick dirt over the blood."
Murdoch choked back a laugh at the very practical nature of his son, and shook his head. "I meant the legal issues."
"Anybody spend two minutes with that snake and they'd get in line to do the deed." Johnny's shoulders dropped. "This isn't goin' to end well."
"No, I'm afraid it isn't, and I'm worried your brother doesn't see that."
~o~0~o~
Scott felt an enormous amount of relief when his grandfather turned in for the night. His arrival shattered what equilibrium Scott had managed to gain, and he resented it. He was all too aware of what Harlan had done at dinner. While he missed his grandfather, he couldn't help but resent his presence at this time.
Scott didn't believe his grandfather would begrudge him this time to know his family, but then again, why didn't Harlan inform him of his impending arrival?