Dreams
Hopes and Dreams
Are like teardrops in the rain, they get lost in Reality.
"Johnny stop right there, don't you dare move," the man shouted at his toddler. The three year old was on his belly about to crawl under the corral fence.
Within the enclosure were a number of horses, green broke and still on the wild side. The father was scared down to his boots; if his son were to enter the compound he could be maimed or killed, "son, John, you come here to me."
The dark haired toddler turned his chubby face to the demand, the blue of his eyes locked onto his father.
His hand held out to his son the father tried another tact, "Johnny I have a surprise for you".
The toddler stopped and sat in the dirt by the fence, "'prise?"
"Yes son, a big surprise," he could almost see the conflict in his small sons head. The boy loved horses above everything else what drew the boy from his goal was the unknown, "A big 'prise?"
"Yes come to me and we will go together and get the surprise," the big man hoped the lure would be enough to halt his toddlers headlong run into danger.
Johnny sat for a short time and then pushing himself off from where he sat made his way over to his father.
Holding his arms up the toddler giggled as the big man reached down and with a sound like the wind and swept the boy up like he was flying, "son, you are making me old before my time."
Johnny cuddled against the rough shirt of his father; a small grubby hand reached up and patted the strong face, "Poppa mad?"
Murdoch Lancer took hold of the small hand and kissed it, dirt, and all, "no son not mad, but you scared me".
Johnny could not imagine his Poppa was scared of anything, "Johnny in for it now".
Murdoch chuckled; the child could pick up a phrase and use it wisely. His older brother Scott used the phrase quite often in regards to his younger sibling.
"Well son, you did disobey me. And where is your brother he was supposed to be keeping an eye on you."
The toddler grew quiet and dropped his head, "Johnny bad Poppa".
Murdoch stopped and looked at his son, "John, where is Scott?"
Johnny pointed to the outhouse behind the bunkhouse, a pitchfork had been leaned against the door, and Murdoch could just hear the pounding and shouting of his older son.
Closing his eyes and shaking his head, he quickly walked over to the work crew's privy, "Scott?'
"Yes sir is Johnny with you", came the muffled reply.
"Yes son he is right here. Hold on and let me move this pitch fork." Murdoch sat his younger son down and pulled at the handle of the door as he removed the wedged fork.
His blond-haired older son stood within the privy, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face, "Sorry sir, my little brother is in for it now."
Looking around his father seeking out his little brother Scott began to laugh. Seeing the astonishment on his father's face, "I'm sorry sir, but my outlaw brother is making tracks out of here".
Murdoch turned and had to chuckle himself, his younger son was indeed making a quick escape from his brother, "John, stop. I still have your surprise."
Johnny stopped and turned, his little chest heaving with each breath. He had a decision to make, stay and get his surprise or run as if the devil was after him for the stunt he had pulled on his big brother, Scott was not as forgiving as their father.
Johnny took in a deep breath, put his hands on his hips, and looked at his family, "Scott mad?"
The older Lancer son, along with Murdoch walked slowly to the toddler.
"Johnny what you did to me was wrong. Shouldn't I be mad?" Scott hoped his soft voice and slow approach would keep his brother from running.
The dark-haired boy dropped his head and wrapped his short arms around his torso; he did not like it when he and Scott fought.
Thinking back before his escape Johnny brought his head up and stared at his brother and father, "Johnny want ta go see tha horses, Scott say no".
Making long strides to stand in front of his younger brother Scott dropped down to his knees.
Hands on his thighs Scott held back a smile as his little brother pursed his lips together perfectly mimicking their father, "Johnny, Poppa left me in charge, he said not to go near the horses. Now I know you did not want to feel Poppas big hand on your behind for disobeying him."
The dark haired head bobbed up and down, "no".
Putting a hand on Johnny's small shoulder, "then you should be thanking me little brother".
The younger sibling looked up at his brother as if he had gotten into locoweed, "for being mean?"
"No for keeping you out of the woodshed", Scott grinned as the implication set in on his brothers face.
Johnny's face softened as he glanced from his brother to his father then back again, "Johnny sorry for locking you in the outhouse Scott".
The small head dipped once more, Scott knew his brother was not mean spirited and really was sorry for the stunt.
It amazed the older sibling how resourceful his baby brother could be, even at only three years old.
"I accept your apology, now how about we go see what surprise Poppa got for you."
The incident already forgotten Johnny ran to grab his father's hand, "hurry Poppa, Johnny can't wait to see the 'prise."
Reaching out to his brother Johnny grasp Scott's hand as well, "Johnny be good".
The father and older brother looked across to each other and grinned. Scott breathed out, "until next time".
Murdoch shook his head as his small son forcibly dragged him forward, "if only for a short time".
The 'surprise' was one that had the toddler jumping in place. His squeals of delight and the clapping of his small hands had both father and brother smiling.
The small handmade saddle with the Lancer brand seared onto the fine leather of the apron, looked good on the stubby little pinto pony.
Cipriano, the Lancer foreman smiled down at the dancing child, "The young patron likes the gift, si."
Paul O'Brien, long-time friend and Segundo to Murdoch Lancer, bent down and lifted the toddler up and sitting him in the saddle, "Oh I think we have just made his day".
Johnny grabbed at the reins then stopped as Cipriano clucked at him, holding still and relaxing he waited until the tall Mexican smiled, "Bueno. Now chico as you have been taught."
Taking up the reins Johnny settled deeper in the saddle and carefully kicked the sides of the pinto.
The hesitant father reached out for his impetuous younger son but Paul put a gentle hand on his friend's arm, "leave him be, don't be such a mother hen. Cipriano has taught the boy what he needs to know. Look at the kid he sits that saddle like it was part of him."
Murdoch looked at his Segundo and pursed his lips, "he's just a baby".
"Only to you my friend, that boy has more smarts in that little brain of his than some grown men", Paul patted his friends arm and turned to look as the toddler made the circuit of the corral.
Cipriano leaned his arms on the top railing and nodded as the boy did a complete circuit of the enclosure.
.
Scott standing beside the tall Mexican grinned, as his little brother rode perfectly, not a wobble or mistake as he trotted the pony.
Then it happened the fear Murdoch held in check, Johnny's dog ran into the enclosure to be with his small master. The pony not familiar with the dog sidestepped dislodging his rider to fall from the saddle and hit the ground with a thud.
The three men jumped the fence as if it were not there, Scott grabbed at his little brother's dog Taco as Cipriano captured the pony.
Murdoch fell to his knees, his baby did not move as his heart lodged in his throat, "my God, please no".
Paul knelt beside him, "careful turning him over."
Johnny opened his blue eyes, tears threatening to over flow then to the fathers gasp, and Paul's chuckle the small boy opened his mouth, "maldecir".
Ignoring the pain in his side the toddler stood and put his hands on his hips looking around his eyes settling on his big brother and Taco, "Taco, bad dog".
With a glance to his pinto and Cipriano, Johnny saw the man hold out the reins, a quick glance to his father and a finger pointed to his brother and dog the toddler marched up to the pony.
Cipriano eyed the boy critically and nodded as Johnny took the reins in his small hands. Cipriano lifted him onto the back of the pony and patted his leg, "you are ok chico?"
Nodding, "Si", the child said as he once more kicked the pony into moving forward.
Murdoch finally felt his heart return to normal as he watched his boy ride around the enclosure. Paul patted the man's back, "he'll be fine Murdoch. A boy has to fall so he can pick himself up."
"But I want to be the one picking him up, he doesn't need to do it by himself", the concerned father spewed out.
"Johnny is no milksop, city boy. He's tough as nails."
Paul patted his friends back one more time, "I'm late for dinner. I'll see you later for a game of chess."
Murdoch nodded, "How is Angel doing?"
Paul had been married only a year, his wife Angel was due to deliver their first child, "ready for this kid to be born. She's been real moody lately."
Murdoch remembered his first wife, Catherine, took her pregnancy in stride. Maria his second wife was moody like Paul's wife, it was hard to know what to say or do at any given time of the day.
"Well it will be over soon. Then you can experience what I've been going through with my two boys."
Paul stepping away called back over his shoulder, "I can't wait".
Murdoch leaned his arms over the top rail of the fence and watched as his younger son made the circuit once more; Cipriano attentive to the boy on the pony would never let the boy be hurt.
Scott came to stand beside his father. Johnny's dog, Taco, held by a rope around his collar, "Johnny scared me when he fell."
Murdoch placed one hand on his elder boys shoulder, Scott took the big brother position seriously, "your brother is tougher than he looks and he scared me too. But you learn from your mistakes."
Scott dropped his head and scratched the dog behind one ear, "I know it's just that he's my little brother I don't want to see him hurt… in any way."
"And I commend you on how well you look after your brother, but he has to fall and pick himself up. We will both always be there for him he won't ever have to be alone."
Scott grinned as Cipriano reprimanded his brother for running the pony. Johnny pulled up short and pouted down at the Mexican hand. He could see the dark clouds gathering on his little brother's face the blue eyes beginning to send defiance to the man.
Cipriano took the halter of the pony and with one hand lifted Johnny from the saddle setting him to stand before him, "Chico, you know the horse can pick up on your feelings. Until you can harness your temper you will not ride more today."
The small child hugged himself around his chest, bowed his head, and pushed out his lower lip. He was not mad with his dog, his father, Cipriano he was mad at himself.
He knew how to control his temper; it was just sometimes he forgot, "Si, Johnny knows."
"Bueno, perhaps we will put your pony up until tomorrow", Cipriano held the reins out to the boy.
Johnny nodded and took the reins, turning he led his pony to the barn.
Reality
"Well", Sam Jenkins, MD jerked his head up at the one word. Pulling off his eyeglasses, he began to wipe them on the white handkerchief, stalling to gather his words.
After a few quiet seconds he replaced the hankie and his glasses, "He has a bad concussion, bruising on his ribs and until he comes around I just won't know".
"I told him not to do it, his stubbornness let good sense fly out the door."
"We all know he's going to do it his way, no matter what the consequences."
"Well this time that hard head of his got a good whack."
All three men stood and stared from one to the other Sam was the first to speak again, "It could have been worse he could have been stomped or kicked, broken his fool neck..."
Scott walked to the liquor cart and poured a stiff drink, he truly needed one, "Johnny", he said holding up his glass to indicate if he needed a refill.
Johnny shook his head, "So all we can do is wait?"
Sam nodded at Scott as the elder Lancer brother indicated to him a glass of scotch, "Thank you Scott, I believe I will partake of some of your father's excellent scotch. Johnny, yes all we can do now is wait."
In a huff, the younger man turned and left the room.
Scott handed the doctor his glass, "he doesn't do well with waiting".
Sam nodded and felt the effects of his first sip, "just like his father. Scott what I said, we just have to wait."
Indicating for the doctor to sit, "it's just we, Johnny and I have really gotten to know our father. I don't know what will happen if…"
Sam took another sip then lowered his glass, "Murdoch Lancer is the hard-headedness man I have ever met. He is healthy enough for a man of his age, except for his back and he will probably out live me. Just keep talking to him try and jog his brain back into action, you have to be optimistic."
Scott smiled, "I can do that Sam it is Johnny I'm concerned with. He has lost so much, people he cared about that it has taken him a long time to accept us as a family into his life. I don't think he can accept it if our father dies."
Sam smiled and leaned forward, "Scott since you and Johnny have come home I have come to realize you two are just like your father. Oh now the bluster and tune calling is all his, but you are both cut from the same cloth, Johnny more so than you are. You my son are much more diplomatic in handling situations, Johnny; well the boy has his own way of handling things."
With a wide grin, Scott raised his glass in salute, "Here, here".
Hopes
Murdoch Lancer was so proud of his two boys, Scott a graduate of Harvard, with a distinguished military record, Johnny showing an interest in animal husbandry and accepted to a college in San Francisco.
His sons, he knew he had made the right decision to raise his boys here on the ranch. Except for the short duration Scott was in Boston attending Harvard, his boys were here beside him.
Looking up from the ledgers on his desk, he could hear Johnny, that boy. If he talked any lower he would have to have his brother relay his request, "son please speak up, I can't hear you when you drop your head".
His younger son had a penchant for a soft voice when he requested anything from him; surely, his boy was not afraid of him, or of voicing what he needed.
"Speak up son, you know I hate it when you don't speak up for yourself," seeing his younger son's distress Murdoch gave his boy a small smile", John, I won't bite, but I can't help you if you don't speak up."
Johnny raised his head, his handsome face showing distress and anguish, the sapphire blue eyes filling with tears as he fought to keep them from falling, "I don't want to lose you."
Murdoch did not know what to say, "Son, I am not going anywhere. What put that idea in your head?"
The eyes awash with internal pain locked onto his father's, "I need you now more than ever. Don't you dare die on me Ol' Man."
Murdoch had no idea where all this came from, if Scott was here he could maybe shed some light on his brother's fear and anger.
"Son you may want to rethink what you are saying, and don't call me old man, that is disrespectful," Murdoch was about to leave his chair and confront his younger son when he heard Scott talking to someone, at least a cooler head could make sense of Johnny's ranting.
Murdoch was at a loss for words, he had never gone through this rebellious chapter in his elder sons growing up, oh good Sam was here too…. maybe between the three of them they could find out the reason behind Johnny's anger.
"Johnny", Scott's voice full of concern addressed his little brother. Murdoch tried to hear the muffled conversation but his sons were too far away. He hated when they did that as if they were in a world all their own and he was not invited.
Raised voices had the rancher look up, Scott was holding his brother from running off, Johnny would do that rather than talk things out.
When Johnny pushed away from Scott, Murdoch knew he had to step in before one or both of his boys had bruised knuckles and split lips.
"Boy's," why was his voice dry, his throat like sand paper, then around him the great room faded into his bedroom, 'what the…' his eyes were as jumbled as his mind.
"Lie back Murdoch, don't move. Let me check you out first," Sam held one hand on Murdoch's shoulder as he reached for his black bag.
He could see Johnny and Scott, but something was wrong, they were his sons but not at the age he remembered.
"What," he croaked out as his hand flew to his head to stop the pain emanating from there.
"Murdoch lie still, you have had a bad fall, you have a concussion. Now be still so I can finish my exam", Sam sighed as the man insisted on rising up on one elbow.
His younger son no longer had that look on his face of anguish and despair, and Scott clearly looked relieved, "Johnny, Scott?"
Johnny knelt by his father's bed, "right here Ol' Man." Scott standing behind his brother leaned down, "you let Sam finish with his exam. We'll be right over here."
Placing a hand on Johnny's shoulder as the younger man stood he looked down once more at his father, "Dios Ol" Man ya done aged me ten years".
Murdoch squinted at his two sons and nodded. Watching the boys as they went to stand by the window, Johnny with his head bowed and Scott placing one comforting hand on his little brother, he turned pain-filled eyes to the doctor, "Sam?"
"We'll discuss this more, after my exam. Now lie back and be quiet," Sam nodded as his patient did as instructed, 'for once,' he thought.
Murdoch endured Sam's poking and prodding, it had all been a dream a good blessed dream. One he had hoped it could have been, his boys growing up at Lancer with him.
One final tap by Sam and Murdoch watched as his dream faded away to wishful wanting.
Reality
Murdoch turned a critical eye to his younger son as he rolled over on his back, having just taken a flying leap from the mustang he had been breaking, "Son are you alright?"
Johnny turned bright blue eyes up at his father, lifted a hand, "yeah, help me up?"
Murdoch gently pulled his son into a sitting position, "one step at a time son, let your brain stop banging against your skull, then we'll try standing".
Johnny held a hand to his head, 'mebbe you're right. I'll just sit here till the world stops spinnin'."
Epilogue
Sitting behind his large oaken desk, he held a photograph of his two sons. As difference in appearance as in temperament, his blood flowing through both marked them as his progeny.
He rubbed his free hand across the scar over his temple where he was rendered unconscious just four weeks ago and remembered the almost real dreams his subconscious had worked up.
His boys reared at Lancer, learning to be ranchers beside him for all time. 'Hopes and dreams are just teardrops,' he could hear Paul O'Brien say. He missed his friend and the hopes and dreams he had of his boys were now reality.
The scrape of boot heels on tile, the ring of his younger sons spurs announced the arrival of Scott and Johnny, his sons. Dreams now just mist he stood and smiled, "how was your day?"
March 2015
solista