THE LION AND THE LAMB: SEASONS.
This story follows the events in the season two episode, 'The Lion and the Lamb.'
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"He didn't even bother to show?"
Murdoch shook his head as walked across the grass, shielding his eyes for a moment against the late morning sun.
They were the last to leave the gravesite – a mound of freshly dug dirt now cheered with a single bouquet of flowers and a wooden cross. The name 'Lucy' stood out stark and new against the grain – but in time the seasons would weather the words until they were pale and faded. How long would they take to dull the pain and hurt he saw in his dark haired son?
Lucy's parents had finally driven away, her mother inconsolable. Murdoch's heart had gone out to her - she'd been their only child. Good God…what parent deserved that?
Scott, Teresa and Jelly had left in the buggy but Johnny had insisted on riding his horse out here and Murdoch had done the same. It wasn't much, but he wanted Johnny to know that he wasn't alone – even in a simple matter like that.
"How the hell could he not even turn up for the buryin'?" Johnny asked again, with a shake of his bare head as they reached their horses.
"Johnny, people handle grief...and guilt…in their own way. Gabe seems like a very private person. I'm sure he'll say his goodbye in his own way."
Johnny's eyes narrowed for a moment then he swallowed, bowing his head, his hat clasped in his hands. "It was a real fine funeral, wasn't it, Murdoch."
"Yes, it was, son."
They'd buried her on Lancer land. Not down in the sheltered valley where the sheep had been corralled but up on the grassy ridge with views to the mountains on one side and the river on the other and a bit further on, a solitary towering oak.
After a moment, Johnny lifted his head and looked across to the distant trees on the next rise. "It's kinda hard gettin' used to the idea she ain't around…you know?"
"Yes, I know that feeling, Johnny."
"I was just gettin' used to having lost her to Gabe…an' then I went an' lost her all over again."
This time it was a good while before he lifted his head.
Murdoch stood by quietly, eventually putting a hand to Johnny's shoulder.
He'd seen the tears in his son's eyes, heard the brokenness in his voice the evening they'd found Lucy, but Johnny had been stoically dry-eyed since then.
For the last few nights it seemed like every time he'd closed his eyes he'd seen Johnny kneeling next to her body again, so choked up he could hardly get his words out. Seeing Johnny like that upset him more than he thought possible.
Maybe that's what being a father was all about…feeling your son's pain almost as if it was your own.
Lucy could have been his daughter-in-law one day if it hadn't been for…Well, it was better not to think that way. He was pretty sure Johnny was thinking enough of those thoughts for the both of them.
After some time, Johnny murmured, "I need to ask you somethin'."
Murdoch gripped his shoulder that little bit tighter, hoping he could do something to soothe away the tension he could feel under his hand.
"Lucy's folks," Johnny began hesitantly, "I never told them about her and Gabe…I don't think Lucy had a chance to say anything an' I didn't know how they'd take it."
Murdoch pressed his lips together thoughtfully. He'd wondered if they'd known. "Well, Johnny, there's probably no right or wrong in a situation like that."
"They're kinda fussy. Took'em a good while to get used to the idea a' me courtin' their daughter. I just wouldn't want them to think bad of her…not now…not like this."
Murdoch applied a little more pressure and gave him a gentle shake. "I think you should do what you feel most comfortable with, Johnny. As you say…it would be a tragedy if their last thoughts of her weren't all they should be."
Murdoch thought he felt a slight easing of the tension before Johnny mumbled, "Thing is, I feel like it's kinda cheatin' a bit."
Murdoch frowned. "What d'you mean?"
"Well, they're giving me the sympathy…thinkin' she was my girl. Maybe I'm too much of a coward to tell 'em she ran off with a sheep herder." He did his best to make light of the situation but Murdoch could see the hurt in his eyes.
"I think you're doing the right thing by Lucy."
"She loved him, Murdoch…enough to…" He glanced up at his father just the once then turned away, forcing Murdoch to let go of his shoulder as he grabbed Barranca's reins
"She loved you, too, Johnny."
Johnny shook his head decisively, his face only inches from Barranca's creamy neck. "Nope - not enough. Not enough to keep her, anyways."
After a moment's hesitation, Murdoch said, "Well, I've been through that too…but I guess I was a little luckier - I have someone to remember her by," he finished softly.
Johnny looked at Murdoch with a fleeting surprise that quickly turned to a look of gratitude before putting his foot in the stirrup and mounting up.
"You going straight home, son?" Murdoch asked, grabbing hold of Barranca's bridle, worried at the thought of his son riding off like this. He hated this feeling of uselessness – give him a broken bone over a broken heart, any day!
Johnny was already restless in the saddle, eager to be gone, and Barranca tossed his head as if he sensed Johnny's mood, trying to get free of Murdoch's grip.
"Think I'll go for a ride first. I'll see you later, huh?"
Murdoch could only nod, reluctantly letting go, then watching as Johnny turned Barranca and headed down the hill at a canter, gaining in speed until he was galloping flat out as he reached the open pasture.
He wished it was that easy – that you could blow grief away with a fast horse and a cold, sharp wind in your face but it had never worked for him, either, no matter how fast he rode.
Murdoch turned away and looked down into the valley. No doubt about it – he could hear the distant bleating of the lambs. So Gabe had come to say his farewell after all.
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Murdoch was just thinking about lighting some lamps when he heard the measured footsteps on the floor. He didn't have to look up from his desk to know to whom they belonged.
"Johnny not back yet?"
Murdoch shook his head, closing the ledger book with an assured manner he was far from feeling. It was the jingle of spurs he'd been hoping to hear.
"That makes it one straight week, Murdoch."
Murdoch swung his chair a little so that he could see out the huge window behind him.
"I know, Scott," he answered patiently.
"Well…what are you going to do about it?"
Murdoch finally looked up to see his fair haired son standing before him, stripping off his gloves as he spoke, his eyes seeking Murdoch's, everything in his stance crying out for action.
"He's a grown man, Scott. He's got to handle this his own way. You know that."
"I know…but…"
"But this is one time you were hoping I'd come down on him hard and give him a talking to," Murdoch smiled tiredly.
Scott grinned ruefully. "Well…kind of."
Murdoch sighed. "You know I can't do that."
Scott raised his brows as if to say that answer didn't help. "I'm worried about him."
"You and me both," Murdoch agreed as he stood and moved from behind his desk. "Come on, let's go sit down at the table. No sense in everyone missing dinner."
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It was the noise that woke him – that faint, metallic jingle. Quickly he opened the book on his lap, a little surprised to see that the fire had died away as much as it had.
"It's pretty late, son."
Johnny's head came up; he stopped tiptoeing and gave his father a half-hearted grin.
"Oh…hi ya, Murdoch."
Murdoch put his book aside and added some wood to the fire, murmuring, "You couldn't've got much done on that fence line out there in the dark."
Johnny shrugged as he came into the light. "Oh, the moon came up early. It's pretty bright out there," he answered in his soft drawl.
"Maria kept some dinner for you."
"Yeah?" he asked, looking around as if it was hidden somewhere in the darkened room.
Murdoch wasn't fooled. "I suppose you're going to tell me you ate a big lunch."
Johnny grinned as he stood by the fire, warming his behind. "Boy, you should see it…T'resa's been cramming my saddle bags with enough food to feed a whole tribe of Indians."
Murdoch raised his brows. "I've seen some awfully fat crows around here lately."
"I warned those birds I'd shoot 'em if they talked," he joked, but Murdoch didn't smile and apparently Johnny didn't really want to either.
At least he had the grace to look a little ashamed. "Don't tell Teresa, huh," he begged, slumping down on the couch.
Murdoch considered him a little longer and eventually Johnny muttered into his chest, "I just haven't been that hungry lately, that's all."
Murdoch expression softened. "I know how you're feeling."
"Yeah, I guess you do," Johnny acknowledged tiredly as he sank further into the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, his hands clasped loosely across his hips.
Murdoch's eyes were troubled as he watched the flickering light from the flames play on his son's face. How long could Johnny go on like this?
Just when he was sure Johnny had fallen asleep, his son said quietly, "You ever wish you could just go back an' have a day all over again so that you could do things different?"
Murdoch didn't rush his answer. After some thought he replied, "There's probably not a man born who doesn't wish that at sometime in their life."
Johnny opened his eyes and looked across at him. "You know what I mean, though, don'tcha, Murdoch?" His eyes locked on Murdoch's insistently, as if a great deal depended on his father agreeing.
"Yes…I know exactly what you mean. I've thought that way myself…many times."
"I keep thinkin' if I hadn't made up that dumb game to win the hat full a' money then my leg wouldn't've cramped an' I would never have owed my life to that sheep herder an' then Lucy…" He choked a little on the last word like there was something stuck in his throat and he couldn't get the words out any more.
"Johnny…I know it hurts…but did you ever think that maybe you and Lucy might…?"
Johnny sighed deeply before he'd even finished.
"Might not have made it, Murdoch…even if ol' Gabe…hadn't turned up? Yeah, I thought about it…but it sure doesn't seem to help me none."
Murdoch nodded as Johnny closed his eyes again. Well, it had been worth a try.
The fire crackled as the flames caught hold of the new wood. Murdoch had gone back to staring at the flames when a soft snort and a movement from Johnny made him look up.
He didn't know where his son had found the energy, but Johnny had stood up and then started pacing, impatiently pushing at the stray lock of hair that hung near his eyes. "You know the thing that really sticks in my craw outta all this?"
Murdoch waited, quite sure that his son was going to tell him.
"I treated her right…with respect…I didn't…" he stopped suddenly, tucking his hands into his belt behind his back as he ducked his head. "An' I sure wanted to go further," he admitted, almost inaudibly. "Just goes to show that I 'do' take notice when you give me that look," he laughed uneasily and Murdoch's heart nearly broke for him.
"Johnny," he murmured, shaking his head at his son's pain. He just didn't have the words.
Darn, it was hard to find anything positive in all this that he could tell Johnny. Lucy was dead and Johnny didn't even have the satisfaction of knowing that she'd loved him more than anyone else.
He'd been numb when the Pinkertons brought him the news that Maria was dead. She was his wife and he'd grieved, but he'd also felt cheated that he couldn't grieve for her as he'd done with Catherine. How could he when she'd given her heart to someone else…slept with God knows how many other men?
Was this how Johnny felt? Maybe he was angry with Lucy…angry with Lucy for getting herself killed by being out there with Gabe...maybe angry with himself for having taken her out there in the first place?
Suddenly, Johnny threw himself back down on the couch. He rested his elbows on his knees then scrubbed at his face with his hands. "Damnit, Murdoch, I'm just so tired a' thinking about it all," he sighed with exasperation.
"Well, I know that feeling."
"I saw Lucy's pa in town today," he went on, a little quieter.
"You went into town today?" Murdoch asked with surprise.
"I had a few things to do," he answered evasively and Murdoch had no intention of pushing him so he simply nodded.
"They're gonna sell the store and the ranch…move back to Sacramento. Said there's too many bad memories here now."
Something pulled at Murdoch's chest when he heard the words. Surely Johnny wasn't thinking…
"I tried to talk him out of it. Told him to give it time…that things'd heal. I figured that's what you'd say," he admitted with shy candour of a sudden. "Wasn't as if I was actually feelin' that way myself," he added truthfully. "Sometimes it feels like it'll never heal."
"Maybe you need to take your own advice," Murdoch smiled.
Johnny smiled faintly back then looked down at his hands, rubbing the palms together. "I told him the truth about Lucy and Gabe...that she loved him…was gonna leave with him. I figured it was better to hear it from me insteada hearing it from some old gossip with nothin' better to do."
He wasn't all that surprised – just proud. "That must've been hard for you, Johnny, but I think you did the right thing. They loved Lucy. I don't think that fact should change anything."
"Murdoch, I learned a long time ago that there's plenty of stuff in life you can't change. It's just that, sometimes, the acceptin' of it's real hard to do, that's all."
"Sounds like we both learned the same lessons," Murdoch agreed, sadly. Hardly fair that his son had had to learn them from such a tender age, though.
Johnny frowned into the flames for a few minutes before struggling to his feet.
"Anyways, think I'll head on up to bed. I'm just about dead on my feet," he grinned at Murdoch and for a moment he looked tantalizingly like the Johnny of old – the one before Gabe had come to their valley. Murdoch stood as well, almost putting out a hand as his son seemed to stagger the smallest step - too bone weary to move with his customary grace.
"Johnny…you know if you ever want to talk about any of this…"
Johnny paused, standing almost in darkness now. When he spoke it was with a quiet sincerity.
"I know, Murdoch. Just knowin' that…well, it makes a difference, you know."
Murdoch nodded, letting his eyes speak his understanding, hoping Johnny saw his expression through the gloom.
"Well, 'night, Murdoch."
"Goodnight, Johnny."
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Another week went by and this time he had Teresa come to see him…
"Murdoch, don't you think this is going on too long! He's going to make himself sick."
And then, Jelly…
"Boss, you gotta do somethin' 'bout that boy. He's runnin' himself ragged. An' where's he ridin' off to every danged afternoon?"
Scott had shrugged his shoulders both times and said, "Well, don't look at me. Johnny'll hardly come near me and when he does he tells me everything's fine," looking pointedly in his father's direction.
Murdoch couldn't help but feel a little defensive – after all, it had been his call to let Johnny be…to give the boy time to work things out himself.
Well, maybe they were right. Maybe he'd let things go on too long.
At that moment, the front door banged open.
"Supper ready? Whoo, it's gettin' chilly out there. Looks like the cold ain't finished with us yet…"
Johnny paused. "What?" he asked, as if he hadn't spent the last two weeks barely eating and working from the crack of dawn until he was too tired to do more than drop into bed each night.
"Nothing, it's just that it's good to see you, brother," Scott told him as a smile spread its way across his face.
Johnny looked a tad self conscious but he acknowledged his brother's words by kicking at the rug and muttering into his chest, "Yeah, well, I'm feelin' a bit better now."
Murdoch moved over to him and threw an arm around his shoulders as they both walked towards the dinner table. "Well that will be bad news for your brother. He was just getting used to getting a second helping for a change before someone beat him to it."
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Murdoch was never one to say Grace but tonight he'd felt sorely tempted, such was his relief at having all his family sitting at the table again. Here was his youngest actually smiling as he snagged the last potato a second before his brother's fork had reached for it.
"You're gonna hafta be quicker than that, Scott."
Scott held up a hand magnanimously. "I think you could use it more than me right now, brother."
Like quicksilver the smile dropped from Johnny's face and the easy mood at the table seemed to suddenly dissolve.
Darn, just when things were going so well. Scott looked ready to kick himself as an awkward tension settled over each of them.
"Johnny, I didn't…" Scott began but his brother interrupted him.
"I've been meaning to tell you all something," Johnny said softly, with a nervous glance towards his father.
Right then there was a loud crash from the kitchen as if Maria had dropped a pile of crockery, but not one head so much as turned in her direction.
Johnny's eyes went to Murdoch's. "Most afternoons, this past week…I've been headin' into town."
"So that's were yer bin goin'," Jelly muttered.
Murdoch shot him a look and Jelly quickly subsided.
"I got to thinkin' about Lucy. Guess I was sort of mad at her," Johnny admitted, lowering his eyes.
When no one said anything, he went on. "Well, you know how everyone loved her…wasn't a person in the valley who had a bad word to say about her…"
"We all loved her, too, Johnny," Teresa agreed, watching Johnny toy with the potato on his plate.
"That's right – prettiest smile I ever did see," Jelly said with a tinge of sadness.
"Well, it just didn't seem right that Porter should get away with what he did. He was the one who talked the boys into headin' out there that night…stirred 'em all up with his bad feelings toward Gabe…"
Johnny suddenly put his fork down and pushed his plate away.
"Go on, son," Murdoch encouraged.
"Well, I been talkin' to everyone in Green River and the other towns and everyone of 'em has agreed to ban Porter from their stores…Zeek won't even give him so much as a haircut."
There was a moment of silence at the table - Maria could be heard in the kitchen muttering away to herself in Spanish – then, almost as one, the four faces regarding Johnny so seriously all relaxed. Teresa and Jelly both broke into a smile.
"Porter won't be able to stay on here if he can't buy local supplies," Scott murmured, sounding pleased.
"That's right, brother," Johnny nodded. "Seems that Henry was always keen on buyin' him out."
"Henry tried to buy that ranch when it came on the market, but Porter bid higher," Murdoch told the others.
"Well, this time there's only one bid and it's goin' for a song," Johnny told them with a hint of satisfaction.
"That's great, Johnny," Scott told him.
"It's somethin' leastways," Johnny shrugged, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable with all the attention.
"Yah did real good, Johnny," Jelly assured him.
Johnny shrugged again but this time his eyes went to his father.
"I'm proud of you, son," Murdoch told him warmly.
Their eyes held for a moment, then Johnny stood up, pushing back his chair and putting his napkin on the table in the same movement. "Think I'll head outside. I could do with some cool air."
"You want some company?" Scott asked.
Johnny shook his head with a hesitant smile. "Nooo," he drawled, "but I was thinkin' tomorrow night bein' Saturday…maybe we'd get spruced up an' head into town."
"I guess it's about time you gave me the chance to win back that twenty dollars from last time we played."
"Seventeen dollars an' two bits," Johnny corrected him jauntily, walking backwards towards the door. "But why don't we round that down to an even fifteen?" he called over his shoulder as he turned around.
"I told you arithmetic wasn't your strong point," Scott called to him loudly as the door closed. He turned around to find the rest of the table grinning at him.
"Looks like things are finally getting back to normal," he told them all.
Murdoch took his napkin and wiped his mouth with a thoughtful expression. "Maybe."
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To be continued...