Of Ants and Men
Follow up scene to "The High Riders."
Note: To the best of my knowledge and belief, this story is fair use of copyrighted material, as there is no commercial use and no loss of potential market or value of the original material will occur.
Johnny had been injured before. Once he started feeling a little better, and was sure he would completely recover, he suffered most through the waiting until he could be up and about again. It wouldn't be long, but this time was different. Now he suffered through the fussing from Teresa, and the awkward inquiries from his father. Murdoch alternated uncomfortably between gruffly calling the tune to rest, and wanting to be Johnny's tender papa. The need to stop this was plenty of motivation for Johnny to demand that his back heal, and quickly.
He had no argument with his brother. This strange man seemed to know just what to say, and how to say it. He never fussed, just simply asked Johnny how he felt or if he wanted anything, recognized when Johnny needed to piss or crap, all matter of fact, talked a bit, and left the room. Johnny was left with questions, wondering more about this man who was his brother. He would find out.
Scott had finished another visit, and rose, putting on his gloves in that finger-by-finger, refined way of his. Johnny wanted his answer.
"Wait a minute."
Scott looked back at him, still with that serious look, still tugging on his gloves. "Yes?"
"That first morning. When I was talkin' about-" he paused, thinking about the right way to say it.
"When you were talking about ants crawling over my eyeballs."
"Yeah, that."
"You were trying to unnerve me."
"Yeah, I was. It didn't work too good."
"No, it didn't." There was a pause before Scott spoke again, looking up from his hands where he was tugging the glove over each finger to lock eyes with Johnny. "Johnny, I've seen ants crawling over eyeballs, flies buzzing over gaping wounds, corpses spread so thick across an entire valley that you couldn't move without stepping on a body, or a body part." He finished with his gloves, looking coolly back at Johnny. "That's why it didn't work. Anything else?"
He sure could sound testy. Maybe any man would, thinkin' back to that kind of fighting. "Yeah, something else. Why'd you come after me after I was shot?" Nobody had ever done that before. He had never expected that anyone would.
Scott frowned, and Johnny doubted for a moment that he would get an answer this time. Seemed like more than one touchy question was too much for Boston. Scott spoke soon enough though.
"I was a soldier, one of many soldiers who were part of a unit, fighting for a cause they believed in. When you share a cause, live through hardships and fighting, well, you become close in a way that's hard to describe, and impossible to comprehend, unless you live through it. There is no experience like it. It's understood that you risk your life for others in your unit, and they will do the same for you. You don't willingly leave someone behind." Scott showed some signs that he was losing his cool. He really looked like he believed what he said.
"Even when you don't like 'em, these compadres? Or do you like them all?"
"No, I didn't like them all equally, but yes, what mattered was that we were part of the same unit, fighting for a common cause."
The answer bothered Johnny. Why did it matter to him that this man, this brother, risked his life for only some sense of duty?
"What about when you did like 'em?"
"When you do like them, sharing all those troubles, you become like-, well-"
"Brothers?"
Now Scott directed a long appraising look at him. Johnny was a good poker player, and read men well –it was part of his business after all- but he had seen professional gamblers with more tells than this brother.
"What brothers are alleged to be. I only observed them, never having grown up with a brother." The frost melted a fraction, and Scott gave more of an answer than Johnny was expecting. "As I said, there is nothing like it. When you share and live through a difficult and dangerous experience, and with someone who really is your brother in the flesh, it seems to me that the feeling must be that much stronger." They watched each other for a moment. "I think I'd like to find that out for myself. It would be a good feeling to have."
Johnny squirmed a bit under the steady gaze, covering it up by pretending to stretch. Mierda, how did Scott do that, when other gunmen failed? He went for a diversion.
"So..that battle with Pardee and his men, it was like the fightin' you had done. You missed all that?"
"I missed challenging, intense living, and working toward a common goal. That was what the battle, and living at Lancer represented to me."
This was interesting. So the dandy needed to scratch an itch for action and danger. The brothers had something in common after all.
"So that's why you stay. And having a brother?"
Now there was a hint of amusement on Scott's face. "I suppose I was particularly motivated to go to my brother's aid, not just for a comrade in arms. So I'm experiencing…something. Time will tell if it's what I imagined it could be. Something to think about anyway. I've got time. It seems we both do, now. I'll see you later then."
"Wait a minute."
"Yes?" This was said even more briskly, as if Scott was thinking he had revealed something more private than he usually did.
"I been thinkin'….about that palomino. Green broke horse like that needs some steady riding. I won't be doin' that for a while yet."
"I suppose that's right." Scott gave him one of those shrewd looks, like he understood that more was being said than just the words. "It would be a shame to not school a fine animal like that. I imagine I could do it, under your observation, of course."
"Yeah, that could work all right."
Now the hint of a smile returned. "All right. I'll work your horse, brother."
Johnny watched him leave and listened to his brother's footsteps fading down the hall. Brother. He might come to like the sound of that. Something to think about, now that he had time.
