Johnny was not the only one hurt. Two of our vaqueros were badly wounded and one was dead. I carried Johnny upstairs then headed out to fetch the doctor from town. As I went towards the stable for a fresh horse, I heard a shot. Startled, I whirled around. It was Isidro. There was sadness in his face as he looked down at the horse he had just put out of its pain. He walked over to another that was thrashing on the ground and put his hand on its head for a moment before his gun performed the final act of kindness for the poor animal. I went on to the stable. The bodies of three horses and eight men lay in the yard.
In Morro Coyo I asked for directions to the doctor's house and met Dr Jenkins for the first time. He asked no unnecessary questions, just ordered his horses to be hitched up. A good doctor for this sort of country, as I was to find more than once in the years to come. I didn't wait for him but headed straight back to the ranch. On the ride out I'd noticed bodies, three of them, sprawled beside the road leading through the Lancer arch. I guessed – correctly, as I found out later – that Johnny had accounted for some of Pardee's men before they got to Lancer. I'd send a wagon out for them; they could join Pardee and the others in a corner of the field they'd burnt out the day Johnny and I arrived. Pardee had wanted Lancer land – well, we'd give him a little. But we wouldn't be consecrating his resting place.
As I entered the hacienda Teresa was passing through the hallway.
"The doctor is on his way," I told her. "How's Johnny?"
"He's still unconscious but his breathing's normal and his pulse is good. Murdoch's with him."
She went on to the kitchen and I fell into a chair. The fatigue of a night of hard riding and no sleep was catching up with me and I leaned back, closing my eyes for a moment. I opened them again as Teresa came in with a plate of biscuits and a pot of coffee.
"Here," she said. "You must be hungry – and tired."
"Yes to both," I replied, "But at least the first one is easy to fix."
"We'll have a proper meal for early lunch once the doctor has finished," she said, adding "I don't think we'll get Murdoch away from Johnny's side until then."
"I'll go up and see them in a minute," I said but she'd already left to get water heated and more bandages ready for when the doctor arrived. As I poured the coffee I smiled to myself at the thought of how a Boston girl barely out of school would cope with treating gunshot wounds. But Teresa, I was fast coming to realize, was a far cry from the fluttering young ladies of Boston society. She had a Western woman's strength and practicality, be it for dealing with trouble or for day-to-day tasks like feeding her menfolk. It was going to be a new experience, I thought, having a Western girl as family. Then I sobered. This new-created family would take some getting used to for all of us. Adjusting might be easy – or it might not.
I went up to Johnny's room and entered quietly.
"How is he?" I asked Murdoch.
"He keeps slipping in and out of consciousness but his pulse is strong, so I don't think there's any internal bleeding," Murdoch replied but I could hear the worry in his voice.
"The doctor should be here any minute," I tried to reassure him. "And Johnny being able to walk before he fainted is a good sign. I remember a doctor in a field hospital I was in during the war saying that he never worried too much about a patient who had walked away from where he'd fallen."
Murdoch looked at me with a rueful smile. "I hadn't properly thought about it before but of course you have far more experience of fighting than I have, or even Johnny has. There's so much I don't know about you, Scott," he added with a touch of wistfulness in his voice.
"There'll be time to catch up," I said.
Just then Johnny stirred and opened his eyes. He focused on Murdoch for a moment and muttered something, then his eyes closed and he drifted off again. Through the window I caught a glimpse of the doctor's buggy approaching and went downstairs to meet him. Yes, there'd be time for Murdoch to catch up on the years with both his sons. I wasn't sure, but I thought the word Johnny had muttered, half-conscious, was "Pa".