Friends in Need
Chapter One
Murdoch heard the buggy pull up outside and smiled. Sam was right on time, and not a minute too soon. It was getting harder and harder to keep Johnny inactive. It had only been a month since the trial, three months since they watched him hover between life and death, and his stubborn son was already pushing himself too hard. Desperate to return to life as he remembered it, but still months away from a full recovery, Johnny was coming dangerously close to a relapse. Everyone but Johnny could see that he was not ready.
The decision to move Johnny's bed and all his belongings to a downstairs bedroom so he wouldn't have to climb the stairs had been met with overt hostility, just one more thing yanked from his grasp, but now he was using it to his advantage, wandering further and further each day. The last two weeks had seen a war of words between the stubborn patient and even more stubborn doctor, and thankfully, so far, Sam Jenkins had won. Murdoch could only hope that he would be successful once again.
But he could tell that Sam was tiring. Murdoch no longer saw the spark that used to gleam in the doctor's eyes when he went head to head against his most willful patient. Sam had seemed to age by the week. His niece Maggie's betrayal had crushed him to the core, and Murdoch feared they were losing him.
Sam never spoke Maggie's name, never talked about the hell she had put him through, the hell she had put them all through. But he didn't have to put into words what they all could read in his eyes every time he looked at Johnny…guilt. Sam could not get past the fact that he had invited her here to Lancer, had stood shoulder to shoulder with her while he so desperately fought to save Johnny's life as his niece did everything possible to see that Johnny died. All in the name of research for her damn story.
Well, today Murdoch was going to put a stop to it. He was going to sit down with his old friend, open a bottle of his best bourbon and get stinking drunk if he had to. They were going to get to the bottom of this, he was going to see that Sam understood they had nothing but respect for him, and that he had nothing to do with Maggie's actions.
As he opened the door, Murdoch was surprised to see a stranger standing before him.
"Can I help you?" he asked, more gruffly than intended. The man squared his shoulders, obviously taken off guard. He was tall, nearly six feet by Murdoch's estimation. Probably in his late forties by the look of his graying temples and salt and pepper mustache. He wore a tailored black suit and carried a black bag resembling Sam's medical bag.
The stranger offered his hand cautiously. "Dr. Arnold Garner. Mr. Lancer?"
Murdoch nodded, accepting the handshake.
"Dr. Jenkins described you perfectly." Dr. Garner read the confusion on Murdoch's face and cleared his throat nervously. "You don't know do you?"
"Know what?"
"Dr. Jenkins is retiring. He sent out a notice last month looking for someone to take over his practice."
"Sam…retiring?" Murdoch felt like he was punched in the gut, more from disappointment that Sam had said nothing to him than surprise. "He never said…"
"He seems quite adamant about his decision. It appears he has just grown too tired to continue. I'm not surprised; he has a lot of patients spread across a large territory. There should be at least two doctors caring for a case load this size. Now, if I can take a look at your son I can be on my way to check on the rest of Dr. Jenkins…my…patients."
"Yes, of course. Johnny's in the barn."
"In the barn? What in heaven's name is he doing out there? Dr. Jenkins went over your son's case with me very thoroughly. Truthfully, I find it amazing he survived. He must surely still be feeling the effects of such an ordeal. Doesn't he know that he could push back his recovery if he doesn't limit his activity now?"
"He knows, doctor."
"But it appears you don't if you let him wander around a dirty barn. Mr. Lancer, any minor infection could become serious in his depleted condition. And a blow or fall of any kind could reopen that puncture in his liver. It takes months for an injury like that to heal. By all accounts, he should be resting in bed. To tell you the truth, if he had been my patient I would have insisted that he be admitted to a hospital immediately and kept there until he was fully recovered."
Murdoch smiled. "Where are you from, doctor?"
"St Louis. But I have practiced in both New York and Boston. I interned at an excellent hospital and I am a very qualified doctor, or else Dr. Jenkins would not have accepted my offer to take his practice over."
"I'm sure you are, Dr. Garner. But things work differently out here. Men here tend to be very impatient patients. You'll find if you don't let them run a little they will buck and do themselves more harm. The only way to 'handle' Johnny is to give him enough rope to play with, but not hang himself. If you keep that in mind you will get a lot further than trying to tie him down."
"I will not mince words when it comes to my patients or their families. And you will find in time that I can be as stubborn as your son or Dr. Jenkins. Now, shall we go see my patient?"
"I'll get him."
"That won't be necessary, I'll go with you. I want to see exactly what he's up to and what's he capable of."
Murdoch led the way thinking that if Johnny were a rock, then Dr. Arnold Garner just might be that proverbial hard place.
***
"Yer gonna brush the hair right off his hide if'n yer not careful," Jelly grinned from ear to ear as he watched Johnny brush Barranca. It was a plain pleasure to see the boy on his feet again. But even the fifteen minutes of stroking his prized palomino left Johnny sweating and winded. Everyone, including Johnny, knew he was doing too much too soon, but that was the boy's nature, and it would've been easier to stop the flow of the Mississippi than change Johnny Lancer's nature.
"You best be getting back in the house 'fore yer Daddy comes looking fer ya. He was darn near ready to explode when he found ya here yesterday."
Johnny laid his forehead against Barranca's smooth silky mane. "I know, Jelly, but don't worry about the old man, I can…"
"You can what?"
Johnny spun around at the unexpected voice and his leg buckled beneath him. If not for the firm grasp he had on Barranca's mane he would have gone down.
"Damn it, Murdoch, don't sneak up on a man like that," Johnny shouted.
"You know very well if you were well enough to be out here you would have heard me coming before I left the patio. Now I think it's time you went back in the house. Besides, you have a guest."
Johnny looked past Murdoch to see a stranger standing in the barn entrance.
"Don't know him," Johnny clipped.
Murdoch stepped closer, wrapping his arm around Johnny's waist. "Let's get you inside and I'll make the introductions."
Johnny allowed Murdoch to wrap his arm around his waist as he hobbled toward the hacienda. It killed him to have to admit that he still needed help from anyone, but at least he didn't feel he lost face when it was Murdoch or Scott, and especially if it was Jelly.
***
Murdoch steered Johnny across the courtyard and into the house heading straight down the hallway to Johnny's "new" bedroom instead of the great room where Johnny wanted to be.
Johnny balked, but his father easily guided him into the room and helped him sit on the edge of bed. Johnny sighed heavily, knowing Murdoch was right. His bad leg burned with every step he took, making him clench his teeth to control the groan that threatened to escape his lips. And his good leg trembled with fatigue even though he had been up less than an hour. He felt betrayed by his body and by his emotions. He felt himself falling into a deep depression and fought every minute to hide it from his family. They had gone through enough already without burdening them with the dark thoughts that swirled around in his mind every time he lay down. He needed to be up and around to combat those thoughts, and if it meant resorting to pain medication to stay up longer he would do that. He made the decision to discuss it with Sam when the old doctor came for his weekly visit this afternoon.
"You're out on your feet," Murdoch admonished. "You get some rest, but first there is someone here to see you."
Johnny looked past his father at the stranger hovering in the doorway. There was something about the man that Johnny instantly disliked. Perhaps an arrogance about him. Johnny didn't like arrogance. Either a man was as good as he thought he was, in which case he didn't need to flaunt it, or he was a fool. In the world he came from a fool was soon dead.
"John…" The man stepped into the room and approached the bed too quickly. Instinctively Johnny reached behind him for his gun resting in its holster that hung from the bedpost.
"That won't be necessary, Johnny," Murdoch said hastily, stepping between Johnny and Garner. Murdoch didn't take his eyes off Johnny as he addressed Garner. "Would you give us a moment?"
"Of course." The stranger was visibly shaken. "I'll be right outside." The door closed and the sound of the latch catching echoed in the too quiet room.
"What's going on? Who is that guy?" Johnny finally demanded. A sheen of sweat shone on his face and his complexion had paled. He was overdoing it and Murdoch lowered his voice.
"His name is Dr. Arnold Garner…he's Sam's replacement."
"Sam's replacement? What do you mean, Sam's quitting?"
Murdoch nodded. "It seems so. He put out an announcement a few weeks ago to find someone to take over his practice. Dr. Garner is our new doctor."
"Like hell he is!"
"Johnny, a lot of things have happened recently. If Sam feels like he needs to move on who are we to stop him?"
"We're his family," Johnny spat back. "You always say family sticks together. When the going gets tough, the family gets tougher. Well, I ain't gonna let Sam leave without a fight."
Murdoch sighed heavily. "Neither am I. But first I want you to let Dr. Garner examine you. You have been overdoing it all week. Then this afternoon Scott and I will ride into town, have Sam come out here and we'll all discuss his plans. But Johnny…if this is what Sam really wants then we don't have the right to stand in his way. Agreed?"
"He blames himself for all this." Johnny's eyes dropped to the white bandage peaking out from beneath his unbuttoned pant leg.
"I'm sure it had a lot to do with his decision. But it's not your fault, it's Maggie's."
"I'm just a constant reminder."
"For now. But that won't be the case for much longer, as long as you follow his instructions."
Johnny nodded, resigned to the fact that Murdoch would not leave him alone until he let the new doctor have a look. "Bring your new doc in, I know he won't leave until he's poked and prodded me half to death."
Murdoch had to laugh as he opened the door. "You can come in now, doctor. Johnny promises to behave."
Dr. Garner eyed him suspiciously. "Do you mind removing that gun from your son's reach? I'm not accustomed to having my patients pull a pistol on me."
"The gun stays," Johnny said coldly. "I promise not to shoot you, unless…"
"Unless what?"
"Johnny, be nice," Murdoch warned.
Johnny closed his eyes. "Well let's get this over with, I promised to help Jelly with the tack this afternoon."
***
Johnny allowed Dr. Garner to push and prod, answering his questions truthfully. But when it came to examining his leg Johnny took a deep breath and held the sheet beneath him with white knuckles. The gesture was not lost on either Murdoch or the doctor.
"There is still a lot of inflammation here, and I'm not convinced that there may not be some infection imbedded deep in the tissue. I don't want you to put any weight at all on this leg for the next two weeks, minimum. If you must move around you will need to use the crutches Dr. Jenkins gave you."
"But…"
"It's either the crutches or I get my way and you stay bed ridden for the next two weeks…you decide." Dr. Garner waited for Johnny's further protests but when he got none he continued. "I'm sure Dr. Jenkins explained your condition and the consequences of not listening to orders, but I will refresh your memory. Your liver was damaged, and it takes time for it to heal. Meantime you are susceptible to infection. Wounds that would heal in a couple of weeks will take much longer. If you were to cut yourself it would take longer to stop the bleeding. Your leg is a prime example. If you are not careful you could develop blood poisoning. If you think I am trying to scare you, I am. Listen to your body; it is trying to tell you to rest. You are weak, and will remain weak for some time to come. It will take a long time to recover from the kind of injury you sustained. I know patience is a hard thing to practice when you are an active young man. But the consequences of not following my orders could be far worse. Do we understand each other?"
Johnny nodded. He would play along for now. Once he had a chance to talk Sam into staying things would be different.
"Dr. Jenkins has his ways and I have mine. You will obey my instructions or I will not treat you. Is that understood?"
"He understands," Murdoch said, laying his hand gently on Johnny's shoulder. "He will follow orders or I will personally hog tie him to this bed."
Dr. Garner raised an eyebrow. "Why do I think that you are not joking, Mr. Lancer?"
"Because I'm not, and Johnny knows it. Isn't that right, son?"
"He would like nothing better," Johnny grumbled.
"Good. Now I'm going to leave sleeping powders for you. I want you to take them at night. Sleep is essential to help get your strength back. I will also leave pain medication which I want you to take when you feel the need. Lastly, I want you to stay off your feet as much as possible for the next week…at least. That means no trips out to the barn. You can get up and eat with your family but that's it. I'll stop by in a couple of days to see how you're doing. Any questions?"
Johnny shook his head, privately seething with anger. The man rubbed him the wrong way. They would be butting heads, he knew…not today though. First he had to convince Sam to stay then he would give this arrogant, so called doctor, a piece of Johnny Lancer's mind.
"Very well, I'll be on my way then." He turned to Murdoch. "See that he uses the crutches and try to keep him in bed as much as possible. If you need me just send someone to my office. I plan on having my patients come to me if they can. Dr. Jenkins was much too liberal with his time. Good day gentlemen. I can find my way out."
Johnny and Murdoch watched the door close. "We can't let Sam leave, Murdoch. There's no way he's gonna make it around here."
"I have to agree with you, Son. But for now, you do as he says and Scott and I will ride into town later."
Johnny closed his eyes as Murdoch pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. He had a lot to say to Sam when he saw him again.
***
Sam Jenkins sat back in his chair and stared at the medicine cabinet that dominated nearly one full wall of his office. It had started out as two shelves, holding only the most basic medical needs. How it had grown over the years.
For thirty years he had called this office home. When he first came to Green River it was no more than a dot in the middle of nowhere. A saloon and an undertakers. Ole Zachariah Turner worked as bartender, doctor, dentist and undertaker.
What made Sam stay there he never really knew, perhaps he was just tired of not having roots. And soon the town began to grow. Then Morro Coyo and Spanish Wells followed. A brash young man, fresh off the boat from Inverness settled on land not far from Morro Coyo and a friendship began that lasted through the good times and the bad.
Now he was tired. Not just in body- but in soul. It was time to step down and let someone else take over. Someone who had not been beaten down by the land, or the senseless brutality that was a way of life here.
He had held far too many babies in his arms, smacked the life into them just to see them die before their time. That had nearly happened to Johnny Lancer. And the cause sat squarely at his doorstep. He had invited Maggie to Morro Coyo, he had brought her to the Lancer ranch and he had unknowingly contributed to her plan to kill the boy. How could Johnny ever forgive him for what he had done? How could he ever forgive himself?
No, it was time to move on. He hoped Murdoch would understand. His old friend of thirty years, the man he had stood shoulder to shoulder with through the heartache as well as the joy. He would miss him. He would miss Scott, and especially he would miss Johnny. The boy had gotten under his skin. He was so needful in so many ways. Not in the ways you could see, but beneath the armor he wore, beneath Johnny Madrid.
He heard two horses stop in front of the office and he knew it was Murdoch and Scott come to talk him out of what he knew was inevitable…he was leaving.
***
"Murdoch, Scott, I've been expecting you." Sam motioned them over to his desk where a bottle of whiskey and three glasses sat waiting. "Have a last drink with me?"
"That's what we came to talk to you about, Sam." Murdoch took his hat off and tossed it carelessly across the room, landing just where he wanted, on top of a chair filled with medical books. That chair had never been used for anything other than books and Murdoch's hat for more years than Murdoch could remember.
"You'll have to teach me to do that, sir." Scott smiled. "That is if Sam stays around long enough for me to practice."
Sam filled the glasses nearly to the brim and carefully handed one to each of the Lancers. "Sorry, Scott, but I won't be staying that long."
"So we heard."
"You met Dr. Garner." Sam took a sip of the whiskey and grimaced as it burned his throat. "He's a good man, if you give him half a chance."
"It won't be easy to fill your shoes, Sam." Murdoch downed the whiskey in one gulp and set the glass back down on the desk. "You know Johnny was pretty upset when he heard that you were planning on leaving. And he's not the only one. You have a lot of people who will miss you if you go."
"There's a time for leaving, for all of us. It is just my time."
"Why, Sam?" Scott asked point blank. "Because of Maggie?"
"Partly, and because it's time. I've been here thirty-five years. It's time I saw a few places before I leave this world."
"I can understand that," Murdoch said. "And if I thought that was the truth I'd take you to the train station myself. But I don't believe you, Sam. I think you can't face Johnny anymore. I think you are filled with so much guilt that you can hardly take a breath. I think you are taking the coward's way out."
"How dare you!" Sam crossed the room and picked up a heavy file from the pile of files on another chair. "This is Johnny's. It's almost as good as Maggie's journal. I looked through it the other night. All the clues were there. If I had only opened my eyes I would have seen what she was doing. I could have saved Johnny so much pain. But I am too old to see it…he…you all deserve someone younger."
"That's a bunch of bull and you know it." Scott spat. "If you think your leaving is going to help Johnny then you're wrong. He needs you now, more than ever. He's starting to fight his confinement. He's going to bolt anytime now."
"Dr. Garner…"
"Johnny said Dr. Garner was arrogant. You know there is no one better at reading people than Johnny." Scott took the last sip of his whiskey. "He'll fight Garner to his own detriment. You know Johnny better than most, you know what I'm saying is true."
Sam nodded sadly. "I know, Scott. But please just respect my wishes. I have to leave. I have a ticket on Thursday morning's stage for Stockton. From there I'll decide which way to head. Who knows, I may find a quiet little town like Green River used to be and live out my life in quiet solitude."
Murdoch snorted. "That will be the day."
Sam ignored the gibe.
"Will you at least come home with us and say goodbye to Johnny?" Murdoch asked.
"I'm sorry, Murdoch, I can't do that. You can tell him. He will understand eventually. I left all my notes and files on all my patients with Dr. Garner. He is especially aware of Johnny's condition and needs. He will take good care of the boy."
An uncomfortable silence filled the office until Murdoch finally cleared his throat. "All right, Sam, we will respect your wishes. I think you're wrong. And when you realize it, know that you have a home to come back to."
"Thank you, Murdoch. Tell Johnny I am sorry for everything."
"We will." Murdoch extended his hand to Sam and pulled his old friend into a tight embrace. "Take care of yourself, Sam. The years haven't always been good ones. But they were made easier with you by my side."
"Sir…" Scott held his hand out next. "Three years isn't half long enough to know a man, but it is to know a friend…take care."
Sam nodded and watched two of the most important people in his life walk out the door and out of his life. He hoped he was doing the right thing. He looked down at his hands, old and wrinkled, but still strong and steady. These hands were a gift, but he didn't have the heart to continue using them. Slowly he turned back to his desk and poured another glass of whiskey and held it skyward. "To the life that most men could only dream of."
***
Johnny waited impatiently for Murdoch and Scott's return. He had a lot to say to Sam when he got there and he hoped the old doctor would return with his brother and father. He couldn't believe that Sam could just leave like this. Wasn't he always the one who said if it was worth having it was worth fighting for? Wasn't he the one who insisted Johnny stay when things got tough with Murdoch…stay and fight. And now, what was Sam doing? He was running. And all because he felt guilty about something that was not his fault. Well, he had a few choice words for Dr. Samuel Jenkins. One thing about being stuck in bed, it gave a man plenty of time to think.
He heard two horses enter the courtyard, but no buggy. Sam must have been busy and would stop by later or tomorrow. Sam didn't know it, but the longer he took to get there the more time Johnny had to think.
Johnny heard the sound of one pair of boots walking down the terra cotta hallway toward his door. He didn't need to see Scott open the door to know who it was. Scott's steps were much lighter than Murdoch's. And he didn't need to ask the outcome of their meeting with Sam, he could read it all over Scott's face.
"He's not coming today?" Johnny asked.
Scott shook his head, sitting down on the chair facing the bed and sighed deeply. "We tried, Johnny. But Sam is adamant. He's leaving…catching the stage on Thursday."
"Without coming to see me first?" Johnny couldn't believe how much that hurt. He thought there was more to their friendship than that.
"I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted to try to talk him out of going. I guess that's why he decided not to come. Sam has a hard time saying no to you."
"Where's he going?" Johnny asked softly. Scott could see Johnny sink deeper into the mattress. This was a big blow to Johnny, he only hoped it wasn't too big. Johnny's recuperation depended on his physical as well as mental well being. If he became any more depressed, something Scott had noticed lately, there could be serious ramifications.
"He says he doesn't know, that he'll decide when he gets to the train station."
"And you just let him go!" Johnny was sitting up now, his anger broiling. "You didn't try to stop him?"
"Of course we tried to stop him. But he's a grown man, Johnny. He can make the decision if he wants to go or wants to stay on his own. We don't have the right to keep him here if he doesn't want to stay."
"But he's leaving for all the wrong reasons. I gotta talk to him." Johnny tried to fling the covers off but Scott forced him back down.
"You'll stay right here like Dr. Garner said. When Sam gets to where he's going I'm sure he will write us. Then maybe you can write him back, talk some sense into him. Johnny, it's what he wants now."
"He doesn't know what he wants." Johnny spat. "He's confused. He's blaming himself for everything that happened. I could strangle that bitch!"
"You would have to stand in line, little brother."
Johnny looked away, staring out the window. There were clouds beginning to roll across the sky, it would probably be raining by nightfall. Maybe the weather would delay Sam's departure. Unfortunately Johnny knew that wasn't the case. The only thing that would change Sam's mind was a good eye to eye talk. And Johnny meant to have that before Sam left on Thursday.
"I'm tired, Scott," Johnny sighed. "I think I'll take a little nap before dinner. Dr. Garner did say I could eat with you."
"Yes he did. I'll see you at the dinner table. And Johnny, it's not your fault Sam is leaving."
Johnny watched the door close slowly behind Scott. How could his brother read his mind so easily? He closed his eyes and tried to take that nap, but his leg was hurting him more and more every minute. Another reason he needed Sam.
***
"Hey brother…"
Johnny felt the warmth of sleep fall away as he heard his name called and opened his eyes.
Rain pattered against his window and Johnny realized he must have slept for several hours. The light of day was replaced with the gray of a cloudy dusk. Scott stood at the head of the bed, a silly grin on his face and a pair of crutches in his hand.
"Dinner's ready. You want to come and eat with the grownups?"
"Very funny. And I don't need those," he barked at the crutches.
"Dr. Garner's orders. If you don't want to use them I can have Maria bring in a tray for you."
"Anybody ever tell you that you're too pushy?"
Scott grinned even wider. "I think a stubborn brother has on occasion. Now, do we do it my way, or not at all?"
"I take that back, you're not pushy, you're a pain in the ass." Johnny threw the covers back and went to swing his legs off the bed when he hissed sharply.
"Your leg?" Scott asked, concern replacing the smile.
"It's all right. Now give me those damn crutches. I'm starving."
Scott handed Johnny the crutches and moved out of his way as his brother maneuvered his way toward the door, but stayed close enough to help if he got in trouble. He didn't like the look of pain on his Johnny's face or the languid movements. His leg was obviously paining him more. If he didn't seem better by the morning he would send for Dr. Garner whether Johnny thought he was arrogant or not.
***
Dinner was a quiet affair. Johnny spent most of his time pushing his food around the plate, something everyone noticed, but given the circumstances, no one said a word. Sam's leaving had hurt Johnny. And it was not just the leaving, it was the way Sam was doing it. Not even a personal goodbye. Murdoch was disappointed in his old friend. He thought he had more character than that. It just went to prove how much Maggie Stewart had hurt him. Had hurt them all.
Johnny had too few friends in his lifetime, and even fewer that he truly trusted. Sam was one of the few. His leaving would have a profound affect on Johnny. At the moment Murdoch couldn't help but feel a strong animosity toward Sam Jenkins.
Finally Scott cleared his throat and spoke, his voice sounding overly loud in the quiet room. "If this rain keeps up it's going to flood out that section of bottom land. Cipriano said he spotted a small herd of cattle grazing there last week."
Murdoch nodded. "Take a few hands out first thing in the morning and move them to higher ground. The last time it started raining this early in the season it didn't stop until January. We could be in for a long, wet winter. I'll take a few men and check the north forty. The creeks will have to be cleared; I want to know exactly what work has to be done."
"I'll put together a list of supplies that need to be picked up before the winter sets in," Teresa said. "Remember that winter we had about ten years ago, Murdoch? We were stranded for weeks with impassible roads. If you can spare Jelly I'd like him to drive me into town."
"Good idea. I'll let Jelly know."
Johnny dropped his fork on his still full plate and pushed his chair away from the table. "I think I'll go back to my room," he said, grabbing the hated crutches and levering himself up. "I'm a little tired and you all have work to do."
"Johnny…" Murdoch hastily shoved his own chair back and caught up with his son. "I'm sorry, Son, I know this is hard on you. But give yourself time to heal now, you'll be back to work that much faster. Do you need help?"
"No," Johnny answered brusquely. "I can make it myself. You finish making your plans."
"Johnny…"
"Just leave me alone, old man. I can make it on my own. I've been taking care of myself for a lot of years, I don't need to be mollycoddled all the time."
Murdoch watched Johnny awkwardly make his way toward his room. He hated the thought of leaving Johnny with only Maria and a couple of hands, but the ranch would not wait, neither would the rain.
***
Johnny climbed into bed slowly, still dressed. His leg really was beginning to throb. He needed Sam. He couldn't - wouldn't trust that Garner fella. If Murdoch and Scott couldn't get Sam to stay, then it was up to him to take the reins. He would have to intercept the stage somehow before Sam got to Stockton. Once face to face with him, he knew Sam would understand.
Feeling more tired than he had a right to be, Johnny closed his eyes. Tomorrow he would think about it…. Murdoch and Scott would be furious, but so be it, they had been mad before. Sam had to be persuaded to do the right thing.
This feeling of need worried Johnny. But never before had he felt so vulnerable. He was sick, and he was getting sicker again. He needed Sam. If only to tell him that some day…soon…Johnny Lancer would return to the man he was. Because, as God was his witness, he could not live like this much longer.
As his eyes slid shut he fell into a troubled sleep. One filled with memories of the past and nightmares of what the future held.
***
Johnny awoke to the sound of rain pounding on the roof. He slowly turned his head to look out the window. Wind buffeted the windowpane and heavy rain pelted the glass. It was a miserable day, one that matched his mood. He felt tired all over, even taking a breath seemed to be a chore. When would he ever feel like himself again? The past three months had seemed like three years. How much more could he take?
Pushing back the covers he froze when he saw the sleeve of a nightshirt covering his arm. Anger and humiliation spread over him. Someone had once again come into his room and removed his clothes and washed him down, he could smell the lingering fragrance of Teresa's lightly scented soap, before pulling a nightshirt over his head like a helpless infant and tucked him beneath the covers.
He didn't remember a thing, only his lasts thoughts of finding Sam before he drifted to sleep. Then he saw the nearly empty glass of water on his night stand with an empty packet of sleeping powder lying next to it. When had they coaxed him to drink that? His world was spinning out of control. He couldn't take it anymore.
Turning away from the dismal view out the window he noticed the crutches propped against his dresser and his anger intensified. How could Sam have abandoned him like this when he needed him most?
Johnny squeezed his eyes shut tight against the pain in his leg and the pain in his heart. How could Sam simply walk away…without even a good bye?
But there was more to it than that, and Johnny knew it. Sam felt guilty and no one knew the ravages of guilt more than Johnny Madrid Lancer. He lived with it everyday of his life. Only recently had he felt safe enough to push those feelings into the corner of his mind, but they had been a part of him for so long, growing and festering. He would not let that happen to Sam. Sam Jenkins was completely innocent, not so when it came to Madrid's guilt. The only thing Sam had done wrong was trust his niece. Johnny knew that eventually he would heal, that life would go on for him in some fashion or another, but for Sam, guilt would destroy him. He would die a bitter old man. Johnny would not…could not let that happen.
Johnny heard the soft steps of someone walking down the hall and knew it was Teresa. He knew everyone's footsteps. Could tell their emotions by the way they walked. It was an ability he had honed as a child. Knowing who was coming and their mood had kept him from more than one beating.
The door swung open silently and Teresa entered with a tray in her hand.
"You're awake," she smiled. But there was worry in her eyes. "I thought you might like something to eat. I'm afraid Maria insists that it be light."
Johnny smiled, but shook his head. "Thanks, quidera, but I'm not hungry." He looked toward the window and the steady rain. "What time is it?"
"Nearly ten. We thought you could use the extra sleep this morning." She walked across the room, quickly setting the tray town on the nightstand next to Johnny's bed before leaning over him and laying the back of her hand against his forehead. "You are feverish again. It's too bad that you can't have some willow bark tea, it would help with the fever."
Teresa blanched the moment she said the words. Johnny's eyes grew dark with painful memories. The tea brought back images of the black feeding tube and Maggie, memories of pain and incapacitation – when he was too sick to even lift a finger. Even now, the pain in his leg throbbed with each beat of his heart. He couldn't go back to that time again.
Teresa tried to smile. "I'll leave the tray here. Maybe you'll feel hungry a little later."
"No need. I'll be up in a little while."
"No, I think you should stay in bed today. I'll have Maria bring up so hot compresses for your leg. I think there maybe more infection there than we thought. Perhaps Dr. Garner should have another look at you today."
"No!" Johnny's vehemence even startled himself. "No," he said more quietly, "I'll be fine. I don't need him."
"This is not something that I can take care of, you need a doctor."
"Then get Sam to come out."
"Oh, Johnny," Teresa sighed, brushing his thick black bangs off his forehead. "I know this is hard on you, but Sam has made his decision. He's leaving tomorrow."
Johnny rolled his head away from her fingers and closed his eyes against the fierce anger he felt welling up inside him. "I think I'll get some more rest."
"All right, I'll be back later to see if you need anything."
Johnny nodded and listened to the sound of her footsteps walking out of his room and fading away down the hall…, footsteps that echoed a broken heart.
He closed his eyes and made his decision. Tomorrow he and Sam would have a talk.
***
The rest of the morning went by with excruciating slowness. Teresa worked on her chores, keeping an ear open for Johnny if he needed anything. But she knew she could not give him what he needed. That had to come from Sam. She couldn't believe how disappointed she felt in the man. Sam had always been there for them. And they in turn had been there for him. But now he was turning his back on them when they needed him most. When Johnny needed him most.
Lost in thought she didn't hear Murdoch ride up until she heard the front door open.
"How's Johnny?" he asked as he shucked his rain gear, hanging the wet rain slicker over a towel on the terra cotta floor to soak up the water.
"I'm worried about him. His fever is up. I think we should have the doctor check him out again."
Murdoch nodded, pulling his rain gear back on. "I think we should have Sam check him out. I'm tired of dancing around Sam's hurt feelings. He has a patient who needs him, and by God, if I have to, I'll hogtie him to his buggy."
Teresa had to smile as the door closed. The devil himself would have a hard time saying no to Murdoch Lancer when he was in a mood like this.
***
Sam packed the last of his belongings into a cardboard box. He would leave it stored in back until he knew where he was going, then have it shipped. He hefted its weight, thirty-five years packed into one small box. Not much to show for a man's life. But it wasn't articles that could be packed away in a box that were important, it was the memories. Those he would carry for a lifetime. The good and the bad.
He heard Dr. Garner cough discreetly. "This can't be easy for you, doctor. But I admire you for your courage. It's not easy to admit that time and age have caught up with you."
What he was doing was not courageous, Sam thought. Murdoch was right, it was cowardly, an act of a man who was too tired to keep fighting.
"I can see why you are ready to take down your shingle. I spent the entire day on the road yesterday and there were only two patients who really needed my services. The rest could have easily come here to the office, or in the case of Mrs. Boarders, not need my services at all. That old woman is healthier than some women half her age."
"Molly lost her husband two years ago. She's a lonely old woman. It doesn't hurt to visit her once a month to see how she's feeling, to sit and talk for a few minutes. Doctoring isn't only healing the body, Arnold, it's also healing the soul. When you learn that, you may be a good doctor."
Garner snorted. "Your way of thinking is, thankfully, going the way of the dinosaur. Medicine is science, not handholding."
"Perhaps in the big cities. But out here I suggest that you mix your science with a little old fashioned bed-side manner."
"I will take it under advisement."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Murdoch Lancer said that Johnny thought you were arrogant. I don't know anyone who is a better judge of character than that boy."
"I find it interesting that you would put so much stock in the opinion of a man who has such a questionable past. It only took a couple of questions at the saloon to hear all I needed to know about Johnny Madrid."
"Don't make the mistake of judging Johnny by his past. Take the time to get to know him before you pass judgment. And remember, there are a lot of people in this town who think the world of that boy…reputation and all."
"I'm not here to make friends, doctor. I am here to treat the sick."
"A good doctor does both."
Dr. Garner shrugged. "A good doctor does not let his personal feelings get in the way of his practice. If you treat your patients as patients, not friends, you won't get eaten up inside when your best is just not enough."
"I feel sorry for you, Dr. Garner. And I feel sorry for your patients. If I were a stronger man I would send you on your way. But…"
"But you've reached the end of the line. Go, and don't look back. You may find it hard to believe, but everyone will be just fine without you."
Sam picked up the box and turned for the back door. "I'll be in back if you need me."
"I won't, doctor."
***
Murdoch was seething by the time he reached Morro Coyo. He had been willing to let Sam leave, could understand even, what his old friend was going through. But things were different now. Johnny needed him, not a new doctor who knew nothing about him. He needed Sam, and by God, Sam was who he was going to have.
As he opened the door into the office he could feel a change in it already. Gone was the warm, comforting feeling of a healer and a friend. Now he smelled carbolic and bleach. The books that had taken up permanent residency on the two chairs against the wall were now cleared. A small table sat between them, a newspaper provided for a waiting patient.
Every memory of Dr. Sam Jenkins seemed to have been wiped clean, replaced by a coldness that had nothing to do with the unlit pot-bellied stove sitting in the corner.
The desk had been moved to face the front door and Murdoch saw Dr. Garner leaning over an opened file, studying it.
"Mr. Lancer, I was expecting you," Dr. Garner said with a hint of pomposity. "Is your son feeling worse?"
"Where's Sam?" Murdoch demanded.
"He's not here. Besides he is no longer the doctor, I am."
"Johnny is asking to see Sam. Now where is he?"
Dr. Garner shrugged his shoulders. "I can't tell you. He had some errands to attend to before leaving in the morning. If your son has taken a turn for the worse then I suggest you let me examine him."
Murdoch vacillated. There was no doubt Johnny needed medical help, but he also needed Sam.
"I will be frank with you, Mr. Lancer." Dr. Garner looked up from the file he had been reading. "This is your son's medical file. I believe he has developed blood poisoning. If that is the case then there is a high risk of gangrene. I don't have to tell you the consequences of that."
Murdoch shook his head.
"All right then, I will leave for your ranch shortly. Meanwhile you should return home, elevate his leg and begin applying warm compresses. If he is running a fever then give him some willow bark tea."
"But Sam said…"
"Dr. Jenkins is no longer caring for your son, I am. I know Dr. Jenkins' concerns about the willow bark tea thinning Johnny's blood, but we have to chance it. We need to control the infection in his leg now."
Murdoch reluctantly agreed and left the office feeling hollow and very unsure of Dr. Garner. He would return home and carry out the doctor's orders…for now. But he would send Scott back here to find Sam and bring him back to Lancer. Dr. Garner was not what Johnny needed. Not what this town needed.
***
Sam rushed back into the office. He thought he had heard Murdoch Lancer's distinctive voice, but to his surprise he found only Dr. Garner packing his medical bag.
"I thought I heard Murdoch Lancer a moment ago," Sam said, looking out the window at an empty boardwalk.
Dr. Garner shook his head. "Nathan Grill stopped by to give me a telegram. You must have mistaken him for Mr. Lancer."
Sam nodded at Garner's medical bag. "Going out on a call?"
"Nothing for you to worry about, doctor, just a minor affliction. But until I can retrain your patients to my ways I guess I must visit them at their homes. If I don't see you in the morning have a good trip. And don't worry about this place, I have everything well in hand."
Sam watched the doctor step outside, opening his large black umbrella against the pouring rain, and had the terrible feeling that he was abandoning everyone under his care. But, he had made his decision and he would stick with it. Despite Dr. Garner's lack of a good bed-side manner, he was probably a much better doctor. It was always hard to move on, but this was his time.
***
Johnny glared at Murdoch and Scott as they followed Dr. Garner into his room.
"What is he doing here?" he snapped. "I said I didn't need him."
"I thought we had this discussion already," Dr. Green said, setting his medical bag at the edge of the mattress, eying Johnny's gun still sitting in the holster hanging from the back of the bed. "I am the doctor, you are the patient, unless of course you want to remain obstinate and die of blood poisoning before the month is out."
"Sam will take care of me." The need in Johnny's voice grabbed at Murdoch's heart and he suddenly felt a real hatred for his old friend.
"Dr. Jenkins is leaving on the stage tomorrow morning. Nothing is going to change his mind. Now, you can either let me examine you again and treat you, or you can lie in this bed and let nature have her way."
Johnny looked up at his brother and his father and saw that they were not going to help him, not this time.
"I guess I don't have a choice," he mumbled bitterly.
"I'm glad you can see that." Opening his medical bag, Dr. Garner pulled out a syringe and a vile of clear liquid. "As soon as this morphine takes effect, I'll clean out that wound and we'll see what happens from there."
"No, no morphine." Johnny tried to grab for his gun but Murdoch grabbed the holster and pulled it out of his reach.
"Let the doctor do what he has to, Son," Murdoch ordered. "I will not risk your life. If I have to, I'll hold you down. It's your choice."
"Murdoch, please. You know what you're asking?"
"We know, Johnny." Scott walked around the bed to stand next to Johnny, grabbing his hand tightly. He leaned in close to his brother, "We'll be here. We'll watch your back. Nothing will happen. I promise."
Johnny slowly closed his eyes and turned his head away.
"Doctor," Scott stood up, brushing his shoulder against Garner's. "I just made a promise to my brother. I don't make promises lightly."
"You may not like me very much, Mr. Lancer, but I am a good doctor. Now step aside so I can get started."
Johnny felt the pinch of the needle and the pain in his leg drained away. He felt so incredibly tired that he drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that Murdoch and Scott were by his side, but this was the last time Dr. Garner would put his hands on him. Tomorrow he would find Sam.
***
Morning came and the rain still fell. Memories of the night came in snatches, blurred by the morphine into surreal images. More than once Johnny thought he saw Maggie standing over the bed, taunting him, holding her diary in her manacled hands, writing down his life story…his death story.
Dr. Garner had stayed until dusk approached then left with instructions. Sam would have stayed the night, made sure he was all right. There was always someone sitting beside him, bathing his face, putting hot compresses on his leg.
He remembered snippets of conversations…Dr. Garner was making arrangements to take him to a hospital in San Francisco. And Murdoch had agreed.
There was no way he was going to any hospital. The only one he needed was Sam.
Sitting up slowly, Johnny waited for the room to stop spinning. He heard the ringing in his ears and the stinging around his eyes telling him that his fever had risen still higher overnight. But that could not be helped. With grim determination he dressed; his pants that at one time fit like a second skin, were now loose and baggy around his thin waist.
He pulled a clean pair of socks from the top drawer of his dresser and managed to pull the right one up to the beginnings of the bandaging around his leg. After some colorful Spanish expletives he had his left boot on. He strapped on his gun belt, cinching up two extra notches before grabbing the offending crutches and maneuvering himself awkwardly through the door. Thankfully he was on the ground floor. He made his way toward the front door, not knowing exactly how he was going to pull this off. He knew he couldn't saddle Barranca on his own, and he couldn't ride bareback, he didn't have the strength. A wagon was what he needed; he only hoped he could convince one of the hands to hitch one up.
As he passed the great room he could hear Maria in an animated discussion with Teresa and Jelly. He remembered now, Jelly was going to take Teresa into town to stock up on supplies. They were all aware that a big storm could leave them stranded for some time to come. With Murdoch and Scott out on the range making sure everything was set for what looked like a long rainy season, setting in supplies for the house was Teresa's responsibility.
As he opened the heavy oak door a strong gust of wind nearly ripped it from his hands. It took more strength then he could spare to manhandle it closed behind him. But there, sitting in front of him was the answer to his prayers. A buckboard was hitched and the horses stood dejectedly in the pouring rain, heads bowed against the strong wind.
"Gracias, Jelly," he whispered and clumsily made his way toward the waiting wagon, his crutches sinking in the muddied ground. Hauling himself up into the seat left him gasping for air and the searing pain in his leg brought tears to his eyes, but he would not be daunted. He needed Sam. And Sam needed him, whether the old man knew it or not.
Suddenly, like a gift from heaven, a streak of lightening lit up the sky and the ground shook with a tremendous clap of thunder. Johnny whipped the reins and the horses pulled away from the house, the sound of the creaking wagon and horses hooves lost in the cacophony of sound as the thunder rolled away just to be met with another streak of lightening and another earth shaking clap of thunder.
He wasn't sure what time it was, he should have checked somehow before he left, but he knew he would be early. But that was all right, he would travel across Lancer land until he reached the road leading to Stockton On a good weather day it would take an hour and a half to reach the junction that either headed toward Stockton or Sacramento, but today he could double that time.
As he passed beneath the Lancer arch he was already shivering violently from the cold rain and blustering wind. It would take every ounce of strength he had to make it to the road, but make it he would. There was too much at stake if he failed.
***
"Sorry, Teresa, ain't no way we're gonna make it in ta town in this kind a weather," Jelly said around the last forkful of egg. He had been waylaid by Maria who insisted he have a hot breakfast before heading into town. "You ladies are gonna have ta make do with what ya got here. I'll unhitch the team, poor horses, been out there more'n an hour in this rain."
Teresa nodded. "When you're done could you come back in and help me with Johnny? He started running a fever again last night and I want to change those sweaty sheets."
"That boy ain't gonna be happy stuck in bed again. Don't help matters none that he don't take too kindly to that new doc Sam sent out. Johnny's gonna balk at everything that man tells him ta do." Jelly hunkered down into his heavy rain slicker and opened the kitchen's back door. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
***
"Damn if the wagon ain't gone!" Jelly swore as he trudged back into the kitchen, his rain slicker dripping puddles of water on the floor
"He's gone!" Teresa cried as she rushed back into the kitchen. "Johnny's gone! I can't find him anywhere…and his gun is missing."
Jelly ran into the great room to look out on the courtyard through the huge window behind Murdoch's desk. "He took the wagon. The boy's plumb loco. What's he think he's doin'?"
"He's going after Sam." Teresa grabbed for her own rain slicker. "But he's too sick to be out there."
"You just don't fret your pretty little head about Johnny, I'll find him and bring him back. Meanwhile do ya think you can make it out to Pine Ridge? Cipriano is out there. He'll find Murdoch and Scott."
Teresa nodded. "And I'll have someone go for the doctor. Do you think he even knows that Sam left on the stage already?"
"I don't rightly know what that boy knows. Neither does he…he's pulled some lame brained stunts …but nothing like this. It's got to be the fever that's got him acting so crazy."
"Madre de Dios…my chico." Maria crossed herself whispering a prayer. "You find him, Jelly. You find him pronto… Aye…the patrón will tie him to his bed after this. And I…I will supply the rope. El chicoestúpido."
"I'll find him. I promise." Jelly rushed out of the house to saddle the horses.
***
Sam tried to right himself to no avail as the stagecoach hit another rut and he was nearly bounced off the seat. He expected the going to be rough, but he had not expected this. The thin leather upholstery covering the wooden bench seats did little to cushion the passengers inside as the coach wheels hit rut after rut. The leather window shades, drawn and tacked into place to keep the wind driven rain from soaking the inside of the coach, left Sam feeling claustrophobic in the small darkened space. The two women sat across from him, Arlene Cambridge and Mabel Roland, both in their mid- fifties he guessed, dressed in fashionable but uncomfortable clothes for a trip like this. Arlene Cambridge had talked and talked, asking questions incessantly for the first hour of their trip. Only after he had feigned sleep did she grow quiet, whispering occasionally to her companion. But sleep would not come easily to Sam. It hadn't last night or the night before or the night before that. In fact, sleep had not come easily since the night he had realized what Maggie had done. Since then the guilt and the second guessing and the what ifs had haunted him day and night.
Now leaving Johnny behind added to his overflowing coffer of guilt. He knew he couldn't face the boy again. Not those strikingly blue eyes that should have been filled with mischief and fun, not pain and depression. For three months Johnny had suffered, and he still had healing to do. How could he face him, knowing that he was ultimately responsible for Johnny being in the condition he was in? He had invited Maggie to Morro Coyo…. He had eagerly accepted Murdoch's suggestion for her to stay at Lancer.
His only solace was the hope that time and distance would help them both.
Sam clutched at the seat as the driver yelled and whistled at the team to keep moving. He couldn't blame the poor animals. This weather was not fit for man or beast.
***
Johnny felt the left rear wagon wheel spin in the mud and prayed that he wouldn't get bogged down here. He wasn't more than a half mile from the road. The going was harder than he expected. The rain and wind pelted him from every direction. The water streamed down his face blinding him. He was barely able to control the horses as a new round of thunder and lightening erupted around them. He slapped the reins against the horse's rumps and yelled at the struggling beasts. For a heart stopping moment the other back wheel began to spin before it found traction and the wagon moved forward.
He continued on in a haze, hardly aware of where he was or what he was doing. Even the ice cold rain seemed to fade into the background. Earlier he had had a moment of panic when he thought that maybe Gabe had decided not to take a chance driving the stagecoach through weather like this. But Gabe was tough as nails. He'd drive through a tornado to keep on schedule.
Johnny suddenly felt a difference in the way the wheels moved through the mud and realized they had finally reached the road. Not knowing if the stage had already passed him or if it was even coming today, Johnny felt his world spin away from him. The reins slipped from his frozen hands and he slumped sideways, slipping off the seat onto the floorboards beneath.
***
Murdoch listened in disbelief as Cipriano relayed Teresa's message. He knew Johnny could be spontaneous sometimes, often not thinking of the consequences, but this was sheer insanity.
"I have sent for the new medico to return," Cipriano shouted through the steady sheet of rain. "Teresa thinks Juanito is trying to reach Dr. Jenkins on the stage, but his tracks were washed away by the rain, there is no telling where he plans to meet him."
"I doubt if he could even reach the road in a buckboard in this kind of weather," Murdoch yelled back. His breaths produced little puffs of smoke around his mouth as he spoke. "He could be anywhere. Find Scott and have his men start searching east of the junction. I'll head west. Where's Teresa?"
"I sent her back to the estancia. She promised to wait for us there."
"Good man." Murdoch reached over and patted Cipriano on the shoulder. "We'll find him."
"Si. I just hope it is in time."
***
Sam felt the stagecoach slow, Gabe's torrent of curses filling the air between claps of thunder.
"Hold on, folks," the old driver hollered from the top of the stage. "There's a wagon in the middle of the road."
Sam felt the stage come to a stop and rock fitfully as the driver climbed down. Long minutes passed before the door was suddenly whipped open and Gabe's rain soaked face looked up toward him. "Ya better come quick, doc."
"What is it?" Instinct spurred Sam on.
"You're a doctor?" Arlene asked in surprise.
Sam nodded, then amended his thought. "I used to be."
He climbed down, the cold rain stinging his bare head and soaking through his clothes. Sam saw the buckboard sitting on the road, the horse's heads bowed against the buffeting wind, and his stomach plummeted. The Lancer "L" was painted on the side of the wagon. Through the curtain of rain he could see an arm outstretched and a hand hanging precariously between the spokes of the wheel. With a speed he didn't know he still possessed, he caught up with Gabe just as the old driver was climbing onto the wagon wheel hub. Sam quickly moved the limp hand to safety, feeling for a pulse before running to the other side of the wagon and hauling himself up on the other wheel. What he saw nearly made him lose his purchase on the slippery wheel.
Johnny Lancer lay curled beneath the seat, his hands and face nearly blue from the cold.
"Is he still alive, doc?" Gabe yelled through the rain.
"He's got a pulse…barely. Help me get him into the coach."
"What's he doing out here? I thought he'd been ailing since that trial."
"I don't know, but I intend to find out. Now be careful of his right leg."
Together the two old men maneuvered Johnny down off the buckboard and carried him over to the stage, slipping and sliding in the thick mud.
"Come on ladies, make room," Sam ordered as he climbed into the coach and dragged Johnny's limp body inside. Between him and Gabe they got him into a semi sitting position on the coach's seat, propping his feet up on the seat across from him.
"My God, what do you think you're doing?" Arlene cried. "Who is he? He's getting me all wet."
Sam ignored the woman and began ripping Johnny's soaked shirt off, letting the buttons ping onto the floor. "Gabe, get my bag up top."
Gabe didn't wait to ask questions before he disappeared back into the rain. Another clap of thunder spooked the horses and Sam heard Gabe coaxing them to settle down.
"We can't stay here much longer without getting bogged down," Gabe warned. "How's the boy?"
Sam shook his head. "Among other things he's suffering from hypothermia."
"What?"
"He's nearly frozen to death. How long will it take to get back to Morro Coyo?"
"Morro Coyo?" Arlene cried. "We can't go back now, we'll miss our train."
"I don't give a damn about that train," Sam shouted. "I have a patient here who comes first."
"Why I never. I am going to report you both to the manager of this stagecoach. I paid good money for a ticket for this…"
"Shut your trap, lady!" Gabe yelled, pleased to see the startled reaction. "But I'm afraid she's right, Sam. We can't go back to Morro Coyo, the road ain't passable no more."
"How long before we reach Stockton?"
"Three, maybe four hours…if we can make it all the way. This storm is a beaut. Roads might be washed out ahead too."
Sam felt for Johnny's pulse again and shook his head. "He doesn't have three or four hours. We have to get him someplace warm and get these wet clothes off him."
"I don't know what ta tell ya doc, with this here storm…wait a minute…don't the Lancers got a line shack around here somewheres? I seem to remember one 'bout four miles from here."
"A line shack?" Arlene grabbed for Gabe's arm. "I won't allow it! You get this coach headed for Stockton immediately."
Gabe brushed Arlene's hand away. "Do all the caterwauling ya want, but we're going ta that line shack."
Sam nodded, turning back to Johnny. Gently he pushed the still dripping hair from Johnny's forehead. "Make it fast, Gabe.
Gabe slammed the door shut and the coach rocked as he climbed back onto the driver's seat.
"My husband is a well known attorney in San Francisco," Arlene warned. "He'll see that you all pay for this."
"Lady, I don't give a damn what you do, this boy comes first." Sam slipped his coat off and tucked it around Johnny's chest.
Arlene looked at Mabel in shock as the coach lurched then pulled off the road, heading for the Lancer line shack.
***
Sam began his examination; his hands shaking despite his determination that he would not let this boy down again. He quickly rechecked Johnny's pulse and found it still too weak. Listening to his chest, he heard the rumblings of congestion and he cursed himself knowing full well that Johnny would be tucked safely in bed at Lancer, albeit, not happy, but safe and cared for, if he had had the guts to do his job. Lifting Johnny's eyelids, he was relieved that he was unconscious and not in a coma. He wiped the still dripping wet hair from Johnny's forehead and worried at the cold touch of his skin.
"What are you doing here, John?" he whispered.
"How is he?" Mabel Roland asked, the worry in her voice plain to hear if Sam had not been so absorbed in Johnny's condition.
Sam didn't bother to turn around to answer. "His lungs are congested, most likely the onset of pneumonia. He must have been out in this rain for hours."
"What can we do?"
"We need to get him out of these wet clothes and into a warm dry place," he answered, more to himself than anyone on the stage. The guilt he felt knowing that Johnny had made this trip because he was too much of a coward to face the boy was burrowing into his gut. His decision to leave was the worst mistake he had ever made, both professionally and personally. Johnny trusted him, believed he would be there for him when he was needed. If Johnny died, and there was a real chance he could, given the state he was in and the condition they now found themselves in, he would never forgive himself.
Someone's elbow struck him in the back and he looked behind him to see Mabel unbuttoning her skirt and pulling it down over her petticoats.
"Well, I can't do much about the warm dry place," she said, "but…"
"Mabel!" Arlene shrieked. "Good heavens, what are you doing?"
"Helping," Mabel snapped. "Doctor, go on and get those wet clothes off that boy before he freezes to death."
Sam looked at her, surprised.
"For heavens sake," she chided, sitting on the opposite seat and pulling Johnny's one boot and both socks off before leaning forward and unbuckling his gun belt and laying it on the coach floor before tackling his pants belt. "I'm old enough to be his grandmother, now hurry. You can wrap my skirt around him until we can find a proper blanket."
"Mabel, please, you are embarrassing yourself, and me too, I might add."
The coach took off with a sudden jerk and Arlene's head snapped back against the coach wall. "I will sue this stagecoach line, and you too, doctor. This is unacceptable."
"Don't listen to my sister, doctor, she's all hot air, always has been."
Sam couldn't keep the grin from his face. "Call me, Sam," he said, his thoughts of guilt put aside for the moment while he began stripping off Johnny's soaking pants. He only hoped the hot tempered ex-pistolero didn't find out that he let a woman help undress him.
***
It was nearly an hour before Sam heard Gabe call a halt to the team and the coach swayed to a stop. The door opened and Gabe looked inside, the rain spilling over his hat like a waterfall. "I hope you folks don't mind roughing it for a few days, this coach ain't going nowhere until this rain stops and these roads dry up a might." Gabe's eyes fell on Johnny. He didn't say a word about the boy being wrapped like a cocoon in volumes of light green material. Some things were better left unasked.
"That will not be acceptable!" Arlene cried. "We can't stay here. Look at it…It's, it's no better than a squatter's hovel."
"Quit the whining, Arlene," Mabel ordered. "It's got four walls and a roof. Now grab Sam's bag and get inside. Make sure a bed's ready for the boy."
Sam could not remember feeling less in charge or more thankful for it.
They watched as Gabe helped an indignant Arlene down from the coach, her feet sinking into the quagmire between the stage and the line shack. Each step she took brought her dangerously close to slipping onto her rear end, her dress soaking up the mud and her hair falling into heavy wet curls around her face. But she made it inside, only to let loose with an ear shattering screech a moment later.
Mabel sighed, jumping down into the mud and pouring rain, trudging through the brown mire toward the line shack door. "I'll make sure the bed is ready. Keep him as dry as you can," she yelled back at Sam. "I don't have that many skirts to spare."
***
Mabel found Arlene frozen in place; her hand pointing to an equally frozen bundle of tan fur cowering in the far corner.
"For God's sake, Arlene, it's just a rabbit. It's probably as scared of you as you are of it. I'm sure the poor thing was just trying to get out of the rain."
The frightened animal bolted past them and out the door, leaving Arlene in near hysterics. "I can't stay here, Mabel," she cried, her eyes growing larger as she spotted spiders of every size nesting in webs along the ceiling, driven inside by the torrential rains. "You know how I hate creepy crawly things."
"Well dear, this time you have no choice. That boy out there is very sick. He should be our only concern."
"But we don't even know him."
"We have to know a person to help them? My dearest sister, we have been apart for far too many years. You have turned into an old, self-centered, dithering snob."
"Mabel, how can you say such awful things?"
"Because they are true. I have put up with your nonsense this entire trip, but I will take no more. Now either start doing something useful or sit in a corner and shut up."
Arlene stared at Mabel in mortification. Never had anyone spoken to her like that.
Mabel didn't have time to console her sister as the door flew open amid a torrent of rain and wind with Sam and Gabe carrying Johnny between them.
She quickly grabbed a blanket and waited by one of the three cots already turned down, ordering Sam and Gabe to lay Johnny next to it. "There's no need to put him in a dry bed if he's still wet."
Released from the volumes of Mabel's light green skirt, Sam was once again devastated by the amount of weight Johnny had lost since Maggie started her campaign to carry out the Perfect Murder. The frail man that lay before him now was but a memory of the strong, high spirited man he knew. Johnny Lancer wasn't a big man, but his body had always extolled the long hard hours working on a ranch, with tight strong muscles and deeply tanned skin. Now his ribs were painfully evident, his arms lacking well toned muscles, and even more disturbing, his skin tinged blue by the cold.
"I'll get the stove started." Mabel's voice cut through Sam's reverie. He felt her gentle hand settle on his shoulder. "Sam, on the stage you said you were a doctor. Whatever it is that happened, you've got to lay it aside for now. This boy needs you."
Sam nodded, grateful for this woman's insight. He needed her strength and courage now. He laid his hand atop hers for just a moment before issuing orders. "Gabe, help me lift Johnny onto the bed, then if you could, find some rocks we can use as warming stones."
"Sure thing, Sam. I'll get right on it."
"And Gabe," Mabel said as she watched the two men carefully lift the young man onto the cot. "If you could bring in our bags. I'm sure there are enough clothes between my sister and I to make another cozy blanket for the boy. And…" she ironed her now mud stained petticoat with her hands, "I'm sure my sister would feel a lot better if I was wearing a skirt."
"Mabel! Have you no modesty?" Arlene cried.
Mabel gave her sister a wicked smile. "No."
Arlene huffed and pulled a chair to the corner of the room and sat down, her arms crossing her breasts as she shivered with cold indignation.
The next half hour was filled with non-stop work, for everyone but Arlene. The stove was lit and tended into a warm steady heat, water was put on to boil and Sam's medical instruments were sterilized just in case they were needed. Johnny was swaddled in several blankets and his hair was patted dry.
"Let's get him sitting up some; it will make it easier for him to breathe." Sam lifted Johnny's shoulders, supporting his head while Mabel nestled two more pillows behind his back. "He needs fluids, both to combat the cold and that infection in his leg." Sam drew a long coil of black tubing from his medical bag and grimaced. "Johnny will take my head off when he finds I've done this to him again."
Mabel smiled, understanding in her voice. "You do what you have to do to save the boy's life, he'll understand."
Sam nodded sadly. "He always does. Now, push his head back…"
***
It was late in the evening when Mabel pressed her hand against Johnny's forehead. "His fever is building," she said worriedly, sitting down in a chair next to Sam's. "And his breathing is much more labored."
"I know," Sam sighed. "He had no business being out of bed, much less out in the rain like this."
"He must have felt it was important."
Sam closed his eyes, remembering when Johnny's life hung in the balance, when he was but a whisper away from death. And here he was again, and this time it wasn't because of a deranged woman, but because he had turned his back on the boy. How could he have been so blind not to see how much Johnny still needed him?
All those years Johnny had been on his own; trusting no one, no one trusting him. A child forced to act like a man, his only companion a horse, his only solace a gun strapped to his hip. Then he had come home. Somehow in that first week at Lancer, when he struggled through pain and fever from Day Pardee's bullet in his back, they had formed a fragile trust. A bond that grew, allowing Johnny to talk to him…to tell him things that he couldn't even tell his brother. Johnny trusted him, both as a doctor and a friend, and when Johnny needed him most, he had betrayed that trust.
Mabel left him for a moment, sitting there beside Johnny's bed, and the room seemed to press in on him. The lamp burned on an old crate fashioned into a nightstand next to the bed, casting soft flickering shadows over Johnny's pale face. The sounds of the rain battering the roof and slashing at the windows, mingled with Gabe's soft snores from a cot pulled to the far corner of the room, and Arlene's low mewling as she rocked herself on the bed next to Johnny's, seemingly taking the very air out of the room, and Sam had to reach out for the edge of the bed to steady himself.
He was at the very brink of exhaustion. He had not had a full night's sleep since this began, his worry and his guilt plagued him, followed him like a hungry beast. Eating at his very soul. And so he ran, like a child from a monster hiding in the shadows, he had taken the coward's way out and now Johnny was paying the price for it once again.
"I ran…" he said bitterly as Mabel sat down in front of him, slipping a warm mug of coffee between his hands.
"Why?" she asked simply.
Sam didn't know why he started talking. He was always a quiet man, as a doctor he was compelled to keep secrets, and it became a habit. The only person he felt he could confide in was his oldest friend Murdoch Lancer. But this time it was Murdoch's very own son he had betrayed. So how could he tell him the depths of his despair?
It all came out, slowly, hesitantly. Maggie and his trust in her, the days and nights caring for Johnny together until the ultimate betrayal when he learned that it was Maggie who had devised a murderous plot for that all elusive "A" in her English class. The trial that followed and the looks of condemnation and sympathy from the townspeople. He wasn't sure which was worse. Then Maggie pleading for his understanding and having nothing to give her but contempt and hate.
And his final decision to leave, to get as far away as he could from all the memories, to stop the nightmares…
"I never thought he would come after me."
"Of course you didn't," Mabel said softly, tapping the mug for Sam to take another sip. "You thought you were leaving him in capable hands with your new doctor. But Sam, you are hurting so much here," she reached over and touched his chest, "that you couldn't see that Johnny needed you, not your medical experience. You two shared a terrible ordeal, and neither of you can heal from it alone. He needs you, and you need him."
"What if he dies?"
"Then you will go back and face his family, and let them help you through this. You can't do this alone. They wouldn't want you to."
Sam nodded. The words were all true, but he didn't know if he had the strength left to do the right thing. Mabel reached over and laid a hand on his knee and they sat there in silence, watching Johnny sleep.
***
Sam awakened with a jerk. He hadn't realized he had slipped off to sleep. The smell of salt pork and beans filled the room along with the rich aroma of strong coffee. To his surprise Gabe was busy working at the stove. Mabel was leaning over Johnny washing his face gently with a cloth.
"I believe his fever is down a bit." She smiled.
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"I thought you could use the sleep. Besides there was nothing you could do that I couldn't. I gave him his medicine like you showed me. He's a tough one, this boy of yours. He's a real fighter."
This boy of yours…the words seemed so right. Yes, Johnny was like a son to him, and that was why this all hurt so badly. How often had he chastised Murdoch for being too hard on his son, for demanding perfection, when Johnny gave his best? How often had he persuaded Johnny to stay, just a little longer, to give Murdoch a chance to find his place in his new family? It was so easy to stand back and criticize Murdoch, when he had done something far worse, he had abandoned Johnny.
Then he was bending over Johnny, gently brushing the fever damp hair from the boy's forehead. A soft moan escaped Johnny's dry lips, a soft flutter of one eyelid announcing his return to their world.
"Come on, Johnny," he urged, "wake up now."
Both eyelids fluttered and Johnny shifted his head just slightly.
"John, I want you to open your eyes," he ordered, his voice gentle but authoritative.
Johnny's eyes opened slightly, confused at first, then he recognized Sam.
"Hey," he breathed, a faint smile playing at his lips. "I found you."
Sam couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, you did. But we are going to have quite a talk when you are strong enough, young man."
Johnny nodded before his eyes slid closed again.
"Is he going to be all right?" Arlene had rolled over on her cot to look at Johnny.
"He has to be," Sam whispered. "Dear, God…he has to be."
***