Valentines Greeting
Chapter One
Johnny woke up and looked toward the open window. The sun was already high in the sky and he muttered a heartfelt "Damn…" as he struggled to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He combed his hand through his tangled hair and sighed deeply.
Six days in bed and he still felt as weak as a kitten.
Well, Teresa would surely not let him out of the house today…it was gonna be a fight just getting out of this room.
"Chicken Pox," he cursed. How does a grown man get chicken pox? It was humiliating…that's what it was. And all because Teresa insisted that they take care of the Shellworth's kids while their parents went back to South Dakota. Mrs. Shellworth's ma and pa had lost their house to a wild fire and they went back to help them rebuild. Hell, he would have rebuilt the ranch single handed rather than listen to them two hollering and screaming all day.
He knew the boy didn't look good. But no one would listen to him. Then Jelly had to open his big mouth and tell Teresa and Murdoch that he was looking off his feed a couple weeks later. Of course he was looking off his feed…with two little hellions running around the house all day, screaming and crying. "Lord, never let me get hitched. I don't think I could take another day of kids."
The door opened slowly and Teresa peeked her head in. Seeing him eyeing his pants on the chair in front of the window, she scooted across the floor and whipped them into her arms. "Sam says you are to spend at least one more day in bed," she admonished. "You know that."
"Can't do it, Teresa. Come on meil…" He gave her his best puppy dog look and jutted his bottom lip out. She could never resist that hangdog look.
"Forget it, Johnny. It won't work this time. I know your little game. Now, climb back in bed and I'll bring you up some breakfast."
"Steak and eggs?" he called after her.
He heard her laughing as she walked down the hallway. "You're very funny, Johnny."
"Yea, real funny!" Johnny fumed. "Well, two people could play that game!" He thought, heading for his closet and the pair of worn pants he hid beneath an extra blanket on the floor.
He shook them out, eyeing the holes in the knees and the torn pockets. They really weren't wearable, but he couldn't stand to see them thrown in the rag bag…they had seen him through some rough times when they were literally the only clothes on his back.
He pulled them on and noticed they hung off his hips. Being sick always made him lose weight fast. Sam said it was because he ate like three men most of the time.
He found his boots under his bed, freshly polished, that was Jelly's doing. He would have to thank him.
The only thing he needed now was a shirt and socks. He opened the top drawer to his dresser and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
"Madre, Dios!" he muttered. "Why me? Why did I have to catch them Chicken Pox? Nobody else did." The angry red pox marks still covered his face. Not to mention his back and his hands and his stomach and his legs and…well just about every inch of him. And they itched something fierce. But everybody warned him what would happen if he scratched them, and he didn't want to look like Hang Dog Charlie. The old man had more holes in his face than his dog had fleas.
He slipped on his shirt and swayed a bit. He wasn't feeling like himself yet, he admitted that. The headache and buzzing in his ears told him he still had a fever. But staying here in this room another day was gonna drive him crazy.
He pulled on his boots and poked his head out the door, making sure the hall was empty.
"I'll just make sure Barranca is doing ok without me then sit in the sun for a few minutes. Then I'll hightail it back up here. Teresa will never know I'm gone."
Satisfied with his plan, he tiptoed down the stairs, made sure the coast was clear to the front door and…"Make sure you give Barranca an extra portion of oats, Son," Murdoch called from the great room, "he's been missing you too. Then get back to bed. You know, you are either the bravest man I know, or the dumbest. Teresa and Sam are gonna be all over you when they find out."
Johnny perked his head into the den and grinned. "They don't have ta know, not if you don't tell em…cause I ain't."
"Johnny, Johnny, Johnny…" Murdoch sighed, pushing his chair back, "Haven't you figured it out yet? You can't keep anything away from that girl. She knows everything. Believe me." He shook his head. "You get that girl riled and you'll pay for it."
Murdoch looked at his son for a long moment and smiled sympathetically. The boy did look a mess. His black hair tousled, his shirttail hanging out of pants that had seen better day's eons ago. His face and hands were still covered with red dots. It never occurred to him when Sam diagnosed Andy Shellworth with chicken pox that Johnny may have not have been exposed. He knew Scott had them, when he was seven. He had received an occasional note from a friend of the family in Boston telling him how Scott was doing. She reported a mild case of Chicken Pox which Scott recovered from quickly.
Unfortunately, Chicken Pox in an adult was much worse, and Johnny had been terribly sick for most of the week. The whole family was exhausted by the time the worst was over. Sam had ordered cool baths three times a day, constant sponge baths and at least half a glass of water every hour.
His fever hadn't broken completely, Murdoch could tell by Johnny's flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. But he also knew that his son hated to be confined, and he had already behaved better than anyone had expected.
"Would you like some company?" Murdoch asked.
"Thanks Murdoch, but I kinda want some peace and quiet, ya know?"
Murdoch smiled. "I know. Just take it easy. To the barn and back, that's all. Then straight to bed, or I will tell Teresa."
Johnny smiled. "Promise."
Johnny made it across the courtyard unseen. He knew he looked unsteady on his feet, he was already feeling lightheaded. But the crisp sunshine felt so good on his face and the fresh air cleared his lungs of all the sick room smells he couldn't stand.
He heard Barranca whinny as he walked into the stable.
"Hey compadre, I missed you too. Everybody been taking good car of you?" Johnny stroked Barranca's silken mane and ran his hands down his strong chest. "Looks like Jelly just brushed ya down. Give me a few more days then no one will see anything but our dust." Barranca nodded his head as if he understood Johnny's every word. Johnny smiled and retrieved a couple of apples he had stashed beneath a sack of oats he kept just for Barranca and watched the horse devour them, looking to Johnny for more.
"Sorry pal, but that's all ya get for today. Besides, I hate to admit it, but I gotta get back to bed. Ain't feeling so good. But I'll be back tomorrow. Promise."
He took a couple of peeks out the barn door and was happy to see the courtyard deserted so he rushed for the house and headed for the stairs.
The stairs proved more of a problem than he expected. Exhausted now, he had to draw himself up the steps, using the banister to pull himself hand over hand until he reached the top step.
Covered in sweat he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, thankful that the hallway was deserted. Luck was still with him… almost.
He pushed the door open to his bedroom and found the bed sheets changed and a fresh nightshirt lying neatly on the bedspread.
"Boy oh boy, now you've done it," he muttered. "She knows."
"Of course I know."
Johnny spun around at the sound of Teresa's voice and lost his balance. He grabbed for the door and missed, ending up on his backside with a grunt, more embarrassed then hurt.
Teresa stepped over him, towels folded over her arm. "Jelly is bringing up the tub."
"Come on Teresa, I've been soaking so much I'm gonna get webbed feet."
"Sam said we could reduce the baths from three times a day to two once your fever is gone. Now do you need someone to help you off the floor?"
Johnny glared up at her.
"I take that as a no. I'll be back after your bath. Oh, and by the way…you just added one more day to your bed rest. Sam's orders. He knew you would pull something stupid like this. One of these days you'll think before you act."
"Hey, watch it!" Johnny sputtered as Jelly dumped another pail of cool water over his head.
"Got yerself caught, didn't ya, boy?" Jelly chuckled. "I warned Teresa, told her ya had that corralled look on yer face. Now yer not feeling so peppy again. Boy, when are ya gonna start ta use them brains the good Lord gave ya?"
Johnny grabbed the pail from Jelly's grasp and tossed it into the corner where it teetered on its edge then finally fell over.
"I'm tired of takin' baths, Jelly. I'm tired of feeling tired. And I'm tired of everyone fussing over me. I just want things like they were."
Jelly relaxed his hands over the rim of the tub and dipped his fingers into the water. "Is kinda cold ain't it? Look boy," he softened his voice, "ya know everyone here love's ya. You just don't know how ta be sick."
"Jelly…"
"No, ya just wait a darn minute and let me finish. Ya been on your own so long that ya forgot how ta let people care for ya. It means a lot to them, Johnny. It means a lot ta me. Remember when Scott took that nasty fall a few months ago? You was all over him for the next two weeks makin' sure he was doing all right. It made ya feel good didn't it? Made ya feel like ya was doing something important for yer brother. That's the way everyone feels about you Johnny. Ya got ta let them feel like they are just as important ta you as you are ta them."
Johnny contemplated Jelly's words then nodded his head. "You know Jelly, if you don't get me out of this water soon, I'm gonna have goose bumps along with my webbed feet. Dewdrop might get jealous."
"Yer impossible!" Jelly huffed. "Impossible."
"I agree," Scott said as he poked his head around the door. "Just couldn't behave yourself, could you, little brother? Teresa's fuming downstairs. She's threatening to padlock the door so you can't get out."
"You're enjoying this, aren't ya?" Johnny sneered up at his brother.
"You got to admit, Johnny, you are one pathetic sight. Now let's get you out of that water before Dewdrop comes a courting."
Johnny glowered at him and tried to push Scott and Jelly away but sighed in disgust when he realized he didn't have the strength to get out of the tub on his own.
Five minutes later he was dried off and sporting a fresh nightshirt and tucked in bed.
Scott felt his forehead and sat down on the edge of the mattress. "You've got to give yourself time to get over this, Johnny. You're still running a fever and Sam says you're not completely out of the woods until that fever breaks. In a couple of days you can get up and wander around the house, make a nuisance of yourself. But for now, just stay in bed…please."
Johnny nodded, too tired to argue. A couple more days was not forever, and though he would never admit it to the two men hovering over him, he did feel terrible and didn't want to do anything but sleep.
"Two days," Johnny agreed. "But no more."
"A couple of days if Sam agrees." Scott amended. "Now get some sleep. I've got to get back to work. This ranch doesn't run itself you know."
A huge grin spread across Johnny's face as he settled into the pillows. "Miss me, don't ya, Boston?"
Johnny spent his two days in bed, complaining vehemently about the room being first too cold, then too hot. The food tasting too bland and the cool baths, still fostered upon him three times a day, chilling him to the bone and causing his lingering fever.
On the third morning Sam arrived and performed another through examination. He sighed heavily as he sat on the edge of the bed putting away his instruments.
"Well Johnny, I've got to admit I'm baffled. You shouldn't still have this fever, and I can tell you're still continuing to lose weight. I don't have much experience in treating adults with Chicken Pox. We'll just have to wait and see. Meanwhile, if you feel strong enough I can't see why you shouldn't be able to go down stairs for short periods of time. But I want you off your feet, do you understand? Lying on the couch is preferable, but sitting up is alright too, for a little while."
Johnny nodded, finding it impossible to hide the smile that crept across his face.
"Do you understand what I'm saying, Johnny? That means no trips to the barn to see that horse of yours. You are to stay inside."
"I understand, Sam."
"We'll make sure he follows orders, Sam," Scott promised.
"There's enough paperwork that needs to be done to keep him busy," Murdoch assured him.
"That sounds fine. Now," Sam patted Johnny on the shoulder, "I'll stop by in a couple of days to see how you're doing. I suggest you rest a little before going downstairs today. Give yourself a couple hours."
He turned to instruct the small gathering to step outside the room. "Come get me if he takes a turn for the worse, his fever rises or he starts coughing or he has trouble breathing. I'm concerned about that fever. It could be the early stages of pneumonia. Everyone has a weakness, Johnny's seems to be his lungs. I suspect he was sick as a child and it went untreated, and left scarring on his lungs."
Murdoch bit down on his lip. Once again Johnny's past came back to haunt him. The boy should have been raised here, on Lancer, where he would have been safe and warm and loved.
"Watch him," Sam cautioned. "Let him do a little, but not too much. Knowing Johnny, he'll push himself. Meanwhile I'll do some more studying and see if I can come up with an answer. If he shows no improvement in a couple of days I may have to confine him to bed again and medicate him for pneumonia. We'll lick this, one way or the other we'll get that boy healthy again."
Teresa folded her arm around Sam's. "Maria has a slice of pie and a hot cup of coffee waiting for you down in the kitchen. And we made an extra pie for you to take home."
"You are a sweetheart my dear. If you were twenty years older and I was…well…there'll be a lot of hearts broken when that special man takes you away."
"I'm not going anytime soon, Sam. I have Johnny and Scott to watch over. They wouldn't last a month without me."
"Too true." Scott grinned.
Three hours later Johnny was lying on the sofa fiddling with the fringe on the throw blanket Teresa insisted he leave on. He had found a pair of light white cotton pants and pull-over shirt, much like the peasants wore in Mexico, on the edge of his bed. He had to admit it was more comfortable than his usual jeans and shirt against his itchy skin.
But he was bored to distraction. His eyes smarted from the low-grade fever and sensitivity to light, so he couldn't read. He was tired of looking out the window and seeing the world pass him by. He knew he promised Sam that he wouldn't leave the house…but this was just more than he could handle. They had no idea how trapped he felt.
He looked over the back of the sofa toward the dinning room and saw Teresa sitting in her chair, lost in concentration.
"What ya doing, Quidera?" he called out.
"Writing a letter," she answered absently.
"To who?"
"A friend."
"Who?"
Teresa set the pen down and looked over at him. "It's personal, Johnny. Why don't you finish your book?"
"I don't feel like reading. Do I know this friend?"
"Yes."
"Does Scott?"
"Yes."
"Murdoch?"
"Yes! Johnny, would you please find something else to do other than pestering me?"
"Ain't nothing else ta do."
"Well, find something." She picked up her pen and started writing again. Soon she was lost in thought. And Johnny was even more bored.
"Does she live around here? Morro Coyo or Green River?" Johnny asked, breaking the short silence.
"Yes. He…"
"He…?" Johnny flung the blanket off and jumped to his feet, his enthusiasm stronger than his legs, and he unceremoniously flopped back down on the couch.
Teresa watched him from the corner of her eye, letting him collect himself. She so wanted to go over and take him in her arms and tell him she understood, that it was natural to feel angry and sad and every other emotion all at once. He was sick and he had to allow himself to be sick. But she knew that was not want he wanted to hear. So she let him be.
Standing up again, slower this time, Johnny walked around to the other side of the couch and leaned his hip up against the back.
"Are you going to tell me who she…he is?"
"He never was a she. But I'm sure if he were a she, she would be quite beautiful. In fact he's quite handsome. At least I've heard some of the women in town say so. But I'm not so sure if I'd call him handsome. Maybe cute would be more like it. And no…I'm not going to tell you. Now why don't you lay back down before you fall down."
"Teresa, you're not old enough to be writing love letters to strange men."
Teresa looked up, a flare of red on her cheeks. "First of all, I am old enough to write to anyone I please. Second of all, he is not a strange man. I've known him long enough to know that he is an honest, decent man. You would like him, Johnny."
"Why don't we find out? You ask him out here for lunch one day and…"
"I don't invite men out to the ranch for lunch, Johnny Lancer." She turned back to her writing, her shoulders set in defiance.
Johnny made his way over to the table and stood behind her chair just long enough to get a glimpse of the letter she was writing. "Love…" was the only word he read before she swooped up paper, pen and inkwell and marched toward the kitchen.
"Love…huh? Sounds like he's pretty special to you. Ya can't keep this a secret for long, Teresa. Ya tell me who he is and I won't tell Murdoch or Scott. It'll be our little secret."
Teresa turned around in time to see him sway for a moment then slowly retreat back to the couch.
She watched him punch the sofa pillow in frustration and grinned in sympathy. "Sam told you to stay on that couch. You should listen to him for once."
She watched his anger rising. "That's all I've been doing, is listening. For almost two weeks now. Drink this water, Johnny, swallow this medicine, Johnny. Get in the tub, Johnny, get out of the tub, Johnny. Sit up, Johnny, lay down, Johnny. Well, I'm through with listenin'. Just because Sam doesn't know how to treat a grown man with Chicken Pox doesn't mean I have to stay in this house like a prisoner."
"But you will stay in this house." Murdoch's voice roared from the front door. He had opened it just in time to hear Johnny's tirade with none of the benefits of hearing the rest of the conversation. "You are going to follow Sam's orders to the letter, even if I have to hog tie you to that bed of yours upstairs. Now, it's your choice."
Johnny stood up slowly, his anger deepening. "Back off, Murdoch," Johnny warned, his voice low and controlled. Madrid was rising to the surface, always there to protect the gentler Johnny Lancer. "I'm not a child."
"Then stop acting like one," Murdoch yelled.
Johnny swayed and sat back down on the couch. It was better than falling flat on his face.
"One more day," Johnny said, his voice still cold and in control. "Then I'll do things my way. The way I always have." He stretched out on the couch and turned his back to Murdoch. He thought he was too angry to sleep, but he drifted off anyway, making plans for tomorrow.
When he awoke he found Teresa back at the table writing her love letter. He felt sincerely sorry that he had blown up at Murdoch. He knew the old man was just trying to get him well. But they all had to understand that he had his own ways of healing. That meant facing what ever was wrong straight in the face. He wasn't gonna get better lying around the house all day. He needed fresh air. He needed to be riding Barranca and airing all the cobwebs out. He never babied himself when he was sick, and he always got better quicker than he was getting rid of these Chicken Pox. In fact, if he didn't look like he went face to face with a mad porcupine and lost, he'd be in town getting a cold beer right now.
"You still writing that love letter?" he asked.
"It's not a love letter, Johnny."
"You're sure putting a lot of thought into it."
She looked over at him. "It's not the thought, it's the interruptions."
Johnny hung his head for a moment, chastised. But he would not be denied. "He got dark hair or light hair?"
"Dark hair."
"Light eyes or dark eyes?"
"Light eyes."
Johnny thought of all the men he knew in Morro Coyo and Green River. All the men he knew working on the nearby ranches.
"Dark hair, light eyes…hmmm…Simon Dent?"
"No!" Teresa squealed, "He must be thirty years old and he spits when he talks through that space between his two front teeth."
"Tony Douglas?"
"Johnny, Tony is fifteen if he's a day. You know Scott will be here in a few minutes. He told Jelly he'd help you with your bath this afternoon since Jelly had to go into town for Murdoch."
"I don't need another bath. I ain't got a speck of dirt on me."
"You know it's to help calm the itching and maybe bring that fever down. We're not trying to be difficult, Johnny. We all want to see you better. Some of us more than others…" she added under her breath.
"You tell me who the letter is to and I'll take my bath without a word."
Teresa smiled. "Nice try, Johnny."
"Nice try, Johnny." Johnny echoed Teresa's reply and shoved himself off the couch.
"Where are you going?"
"In the kitchen. Maybe Maria knows some more dark haired, light eyed men in town."
Teresa returned to her letter. She had exactly two acceptable words written down. It was harder than she thought, writing a Valentine Greeting.
Johnny shuffled into the kitchen, his legs shaking after the short walk. He really was getting tired of being sick.
He found the kitchen empty and he was relieved. He really didn't want to talk to Maria about Teresa's new beau. He just wanted her to think so. Finding the name of her new infatuation was his only entertainment.
He dropped into a kitchen chair and folded his arms over the table, resting his heavy head. The smells in the kitchen were making his stomach do flip flops, and if he wasn't so tired he'd have returned to the sofa right away.
He didn't hear Maria rush in through the back door, her arms laden with fresh vegetables from the garden.
"Oh, mi enfermito" she cried softly as she put the vegetables in the sink, "why do you not listen to your familia? They only wish to see you well again."
"Juanito, por favor," Maria leaned over Johnny, feeling his forehead, "the fiebre, it is still with you," she tisked. She shook his shoulder gently until he slowly opened his eyes. "Juanito, por favor, you must go back to the couch in the patron's room, or to your own bed. You still have the fiebre obstinado. You must rest to get strong to fight it. Si?"
"Si, Maria," Johnny mumbled. "Momentito. I'm kinda tired."
"Por favor, Juanito. Not here. Come…" She helped him up and steered him toward the door.
"Maria…" Scott was just on the other side of the door, "is my little brother bothering you?" he smiled.
"Juanito is never a bother, Señor Scott." Maria huffed. "But he does not belong in the kitchen."
"You hear that Johnny?" Scott pulled Johnny's arm over his shoulders and began to lead him toward the stairs. "It's time for his bath anyway."
Johnny tried to push Scott away angrily. "I ain't no baby. I don't need help taking a bath. Sides…I've had enough baths to keep me clean til next year."
"You listen to your hermano, Juanito. He only wants you to be sano…healthy," Maria called after them.
Johnny bristled at the idea that still one more person was telling him what to do. He tried to push Scott away but nearly lost his balance. If not for Scott's strong hold on him he would have somersaulted down the stairs.
"Come on Johnny, no more games." Scott pulled him toward the top landing. "You're getting that bath, now. Maybe I should have let you fall. A broken bone may have kept you in your bed where you belong."
"Just leave me be, Scott," Johnny shouted.
"Gladly, after your bath. Now come on, I want to get this over as fast as you do."
"You know Teresa has a new beau?" Johnny asked out of the blue, as Scott added another tepid pail of water to the wooden tub in the center of Johnny's room. He decided he couldn't fight his brother, so he would endure one more bath.
"Really. Who?"
"Don't know. She won't tell me."
"Then how do you know?"
"Saw her writing this love letter. She's spending lots of time on getting just the right words down. Must be someone special."
Scott raised an eyebrow. "Do we know him?"
Johnny nodded. "She says we do. Says he has dark hair and light eyes. And the ladies in town think he's handsome."
His curiosity piqued, Scott put the pail down and gently pushed Johnny's shoulders deeper into the water.
"Come on, Scott, this water is cold," Johnny protested. The heat from the fever was being replaced by the cool water and he began to shiver. "Scott…let me out. I'm freezing."
"Ten minutes," Scott replied, lost in thought.
Johnny took the washrag floating in the water and started buffeting himself with it, trying to ward off the cold, but Scott snatched it away from him. "You'll break all those pox open. Now just stay still. She said we know him…huh?"
Johnny nodded, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "I told her to invite him out to the house for lunch so we could meet him."
"What did she say?"
"She'd think on it. She's a pretty girl, Boston. Any man would love to steal her away from here."
"Well, just any man isn't good enough for our little sister, brother. You keep working on her, and I'll see what I can find out in town. She talks to Bonita Mendez at the mercantile all the time. Maybe she knows something. You know, girl talk."
Johnny was pleased with himself. Between the two of them they would get to the bottom of the letter. "Do you think we could get me out of this tub now, before I've got nothing left to brag about?"