Murder 101
Prologue
"Gentlemen, and ladies…" Professor Myers, head of the English Literature Department at Harvard University, nodded toward the only two women in his classroom of forty. "You have one month before class resumes. That should give you all ample time to finish your last assignment of this semester."
"I hope it isn't another analysis of Shakespeare's works." Rachael Richards leaned over to hiss in Maggie Stewart's ear. "One more night with Brutus and I will…"
"You will what, Miss Richards?"
Rachael turned three shades of red as she sat back in her chair. "Sorry, Professor."
Professor Myers cleared his throat and looked pointedly at the two women. "I will be honest with you, ladies, I was against having you in my class. Women do not belong in a classroom, they belong at home caring for their husbands and rearing their children. But times are changing and I am loath to admit that I cannot stop the inevitable. I have given you both all the latitude I could throughout this semester. However for this last assignment, you will be graded just as judiciously as the men."
Maggie Stewart arched an eyebrow. Professor Myers had constantly graded their papers harsher than any of the male students. But she held her tongue. There would be time enough after the course was finished for her to post her complaints to the dean.
"As you know…" the professor continued, now talking to the entire classroom. "Up until now, your assignments have been to dissect the writings of others. This time it will be your writings that we will be dissecting. Your assignment: Devise the perfect murder." There was a shuffling of feet and an expectancy in the room. "Your story will consist of three parts. Firstly, you will plan a murder. Nothing as unimaginative as a shooting or a knifing, please. Your plan must be cunning, done so even the victim doesn't know he…" Myers nodded toward Rachel and Maggie again, "or she…is dying. Secondly, you will study the victim; see how he or she reacts. How he or she interacts with family and friends. Lastly, you will describe his or her death in detail. I want to feel the anguish, the fear and the desperation of the victim. I want to know what it feels like to grab onto that last moment of conscious life, knowing it will be your last. I will grade heavily on creativity. And please, no poison, I have had my fill of Shakespeare myself.
I suggest that you find a victim. Make all your plans. Carry them out in your mind to the last detail. I don't expect you to actually kill someone," he added flippantly, and there was a murmur of laugher from the class. "But the best writing comes from something we know, have intimate knowledge of from personal experience or study. You are dismissed. See you all in a month."
A low rumble grew as excited voices began discussing their assignment.
"My God," Rachael whispered. "This is a horrible assignment. I haven't the faintest idea of how to plan a murder. He's doing this just so he can fail us."
"Actually, ladies…" Byron Cole leaned forward. He had sat behind Rachael and Maggie the entire semester, never saying a word until now. "Professor Myers gives this assignment every year. I'm told there have been some terribly grizzly murders concocted by his students. Thank heavens it's only a story."
"I still think it is a ghastly assignment. One that will surely put us at the back of the class."
Maggie smiled, gathering up her books and writing paper. "I have no intention of going to the back of the class, Rachael. I have the inklings of a plan already. I will see you all in one month."
"Where are you going?" Rachel called as Maggie rushed down the stairs of the auditorium. "To Morro Coyo, remember? My Uncle Sam is expecting me."
Chapter One –
"I've never seen Doc so fidgety." Johnny grinned, pulling Barranca to a stop in front of the stage depot. "I mean look at him, you'd think that he was walking on hot coals."
"He does look a little nervous," Murdoch agreed. "This will be the first time he's met his niece. He's talked about her for years. She's about your age, Johnny."
"And smart," Scott added. "One of only two women in English Lit at Harvard. That's saying something."
Johnny snorted. "She probably looks like Hannah Gallagher, that librarian over in Stockton. Ya know, tiny little mouth, long spindly nose, and them beady little eyes looking out from them horn rimmed glasses." Johnny shuddered at the thought.
"I seem to remember that she thought you were just about the prettiest thing she ever did see in a pair of pants, little brother."
Johnny eyed Scott coldly and Scott turned his face away, not able to wipe the grin off his face.
"You boys behave, you hear me?" Murdoch warned, as they took their place behind Sam in front of the depot. He had to laugh at his old friend Sam Jenkins, as he paced nervously back and forth. He truly was in a panic over meeting his niece for the first time. "Sam's expecting you two to escort his niece around while he's on his rounds. You two are the closest thing he has to family here, and he looks upon you both as the sons he never had. I expect you both to show her a nice..safe…time while she's with us."
"Why does she have to stay with us, Murdoch? Sam's got a back room at the clinic, or the hotel's got vacancies."
"We've already discussed this, Johnny. We have the room and Sam will feel much safer knowing that she is being taken care of. Besides, she is only a couple years older than Teresa and Teresa could use the company."
"I have to agree with Johnny, Sir. We will be walking around on eggshells for the next three weeks. One wrong word…"
"The decision is made, so make the best of it. I believe that's the stage now."
The three PM stage pulled in right on schedule according to the grizzly old driver…twenty minutes late according to Maggie Stewart's watch. Time, she decided, was not an important commodity here in the west. This was not Connecticut.
The train ride from the station outside of Harvard had been an experience she would never forget. She knew she was bucking tradition… a young women traveling alone was not a common sight. And she had more than one middle aged woman reprimanding her, and several overly helpful gentlemen offer their help. All in all it was a pleasant and interesting trip. Until the stagecoach.
The man sitting beside her smelled of old cigars and constantly belched stale whiskey. The old woman sitting ram rod straight in the seat in front of her, dressed in a faded black dress that spoke of years of hard work, made it known that she thought it inappropriate for a young woman to be riding the stage alone, even though she herself was unaccompanied.
The only thing that made the trip endurable was her writing. She had written an outline for her story. She even had the method by which she was going to kill her victim. Now she just needed to pick the victim. She would, of course, anonymously tell her uncle what she had done in time to save his life. After all she was not a murderer…she was a writer documenting an event.
Stiff from the long journey, she allowed the other two passengers to get out first. They were greeted by friends and disappeared inside the depot. She assumed the four men left standing in front of the stage depot's door were her uncle and the Lancer's. Uncle Sam had written about them often in his letters to her. He seemed very close to them. As she looked out the stage window she studied each man and applied names to the faces. Uncle Sam was easy to spot, he was the spitting image of her Aunt Harriet. The taller of the men standing behind Uncle Sam was obviously Murdoch Lancer. Uncle Sam had said that he was a bear of a man. And he was. He towered over everyone around him. To his left was the second tallest man. He was blonde and held his shoulders erect…military training stayed with a man for a lifetime. That had to be Scott Lancer. Which left the slightly shorter, dark haired man to his left; Johnny Lancer. She had somehow expected a harsher looking man. Brutal even, given his past lifestyle. She would have to get to know these two men before she passed judgment. Because she knew now, that she had her victim in sight. It was just now a matter of blonde or brunette.
Smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress, she wondered what they would think of her. At times she wished she was pretty like Rachael Richards. Rachael always wore the newest styles, had her blonde hair piled high on her head, little ringlets hanging down by her ears. Maggie on the other hand had no time for such nonsense. She wore a plain dark brown skirt and white high collared blouse. The cameo hung around her neck was her only attempt at fashion. Her hair was a mousy brown, and she kept it secured in a tight bun at the back of her neck. She was short and thin and lacked any of the feminine curves Rachael so blatantly tried to display. The horn rimmed glasses she wore were a result of too many hours reading fine print in bad lighting. The glasses magnified her startling light blue eyes, so light that they were nearly colorless. She found most people found it hard to look at her without staring at her eyes.
She took a deep breath as Uncle Sam reached a hand in to help her out.
Scott heard a suppressed guffaw from Johnny as he slipped behind Scott's back. Scott poked Johnny hard in the ribs with his elbow and was satisfied to hear a muffled grunt.
He watched Sam help the young woman from the stage and embrace her gently.
"Gentlemen," Sam beamed with pride, directing her to the three waiting Lancers. "Allow me to introduce my niece Maggie Stewart."
Maggie curtsied slightly then offered her hand to Murdoch. "It is so nice to meet you all at last, she said, squeezing his hand firmly. "Uncle Sam has written about you frequently."
"And he speaks of you often." Murdoch smiled.
"You must be Scott Lancer." She moved on to Scott offering her hand. "I understand you are a Harvard graduate. We have a lot to talk about."
"Indeed we do." Scott smiled, trying to keep his composure. She could have been Hannah Gallagher's twin sister.
"Which makes you Johnny Lancer."
"I guess it does," Johnny answered. There was a twinkle in his eyes which both annoyed and intrigued Maggie. It appeared that Johnny Lancer wasn't anything like she envisioned.
"And Teresa?" She looked around but did not see a young woman standing near. She had hoped to meet her right away. She knew she would learn everything she needed to know about the Lancer brothers through her. The sooner she made up her mind the sooner she could begin her plan.
"She stayed home to ready the house for you and to see over dinner."
"I can't tell you how grateful I am that you are opening your home to me, Mr. Lancer. When Uncle Sam first suggested I spend spring break with him here in Morro Coyo I was ready to politely refuse his offer. With him on rounds and my staying in a strange hotel…"
"Well you don't have to worry about a thing now," Sam grinned. "We will be at the Lancer's in an hour or so. In fact here is my buggy now." Nate, the livery boy drove Sam's buggy to the stage depot and nodded his head in eager appreciation as Murdoch flipped him a dollar gold piece. "Thanks, Mr. Lancer."
Five minutes later the buggy was loaded with her luggage and they were off. Maggie smiled brightly. There was already a plethora of information for her story. It was just too bad that one of these nice young men was going to have to suffer for her. But she would not be left at the back of the class.
The ride to the Lancer ranch was longer than Maggie expected. She was tired and hungry and in desperate need of a bath. A real bath. She had not seen a decent bathroom since leaving Connecticut. When they stopped at the top of the hill to look down in the valley where the Lancer house stood she barely noticed it. She was anxious for that bath and also some privacy so she could jot down the notes that were swirling in her head. Uncle Sam had been a treasure trove of knowledge. And with every new detail she learned she was that much closer to picking her victim.
It was nearly five in the afternoon, and the sky was beginning to cloud over. April rains were as true here as they were back east. But she could only imagine the mess a rain would bring to all this dirt. She had not seen a cement sidewalk since leaving Harvard. Granted it was a new invention…but is was so wonderful to walk on something beside uneven boardwalks or dirt and mud. It was going to be a long three weeks.
Teresa heard the horses enter the courtyard and she hurriedly slipped off her apron. She didn't want her guest to see that she had worked so hard to get the house sparkling clean. Sam's niece must have been used to houses so much finer than this. But she was proud of Lancer. It was her birthplace, and it was an extension of herself. If Maggie Stewart didn't like the house then how could she like the girl who ran it?
She opened the door and saw Sam pull his buggy to a stop.
Teresa was not sure what she had expected her guest to look like, but it wasn't the thin shrewish woman who Sam helped out of his carriage. Teresa felt immediately more comfortable. She was sure Miss Stewart would arrive in the finest fashions from back east. She unconsciously straightened her dark beige skirt and green blouse. Perhaps tomorrow she could go back to wearing her more comfortable clothes.
"Teresa, my dear." Sam held out his hand to her, his love and respect for her written all over his face. Teresa had worked side by side with him many times over the past three years. No one in his estimation came close to her courage or her nursing skills. "I have waited a long time to introduce you two ladies. Teresa, my niece Maggie Stewart."
Maggie smiled and took Teresa's hand. Her eyes were so light Teresa found herself unable to look away. "We're so happy to have you staying with us Miss Stewart."
"Call me Maggie. And I am so happy to be here. I've read so much about the – quote wild west – that I'm ashamed to admit I feel like a school girl on a great adventure. I know the next three weeks are going to fly by."
"You look tired," Teresa observed. "Let me show you your room then I'll take you over to the bathhouse."
Maggie looked suddenly dejected. "You don't have a bath here in the house?"
Teresa blushed. "I'm afraid not. We sometimes bring a bath up to the room if one of the men are hurt. But most of the time we just bathe in the bathhouse. It is connected to the kitchen so you don't have to walk far."
"I could have Jelly bring a tub to your room," Murdoch offered.
"Nonsense. I don't want to be any extra trouble. The bathhouse will be fine. I'll unpack and bring down a fresh set of clothes."
"The guest rooms are on this floor," Teresa gently led Maggie down the hallway. "I'm sure you will be comfortable here. Just call when you are ready and I will show you the way. And by the way…dinner is at six. Murdoch doesn't tolerate anyone being late to the supper table."
Maggie heard the door close behind her and collapsed on the bed. She was exhausted, but there was so much more to do. She was determined to pick her victim before she closed her eyes tonight. Tomorrow the first of her plan would have to go into effect. She would begin assembling everything she needed. Then she would begin to check out the house. She would need to know the house, inside and out, like the back of her hand. She had very little time to orchestrate the perfect murder.
"Dinner was superb," Maggie sat back in her chair, not a morsel left on her plate. Sam sat beside her, his plate equally empty. When she had seen the table piled high with roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and biscuits, she had thought the food, though plentiful, would be like everything else she tasted out west, bland and unimaginative. It was anything but. "I can't believe I ate so much. My compliments to the chief."
"That would be Teresa and Maria. You will meet Maria tomorrow, she had to leave early today. It is well known that we have the two best cooks in all of the San Joaquin Valley," Murdoch said with pride.
"I can see no way you could top this."
"Oh I think you will find tomorrow's dinner very interesting." Scott grinned. "Maria reserves one day a week to prepare Johnny his favorite Mexican foods."
"Si." Johnny grinned, his eyes twinkling with merriment. "It took Scott here a few tries to learn to like 'em. Now he eats almost everything. Tamale soup, enchiladas, molcajete, chile relleno, chimichangas, flautas, tortillas, tamales…"
"But I still stay away from the habaneras. Once was enough."
"Habaneras?" Maggie asked.
"Hot peppers," Teresa explained. "They are so hot that Maria uses gloves when she cuts a lot of them."
"Well, maybe I will have to give them a tiny taste."
"I wouldn't recommend it, Maggie." Murdoch laughed.
"Listen to his advice, Maggie," Sam chuckled. "Believe me, I know."
Everyone laughed and Scott refilled everyone's wine glass. "I know you're tired tonight, Maggie, but I am looking forward to hearing how things are going at Harvard. It's been several years since I attended."
"I'm sure it hasn't changed much. What did you major in, Scott?"
"History with a minor in Accounting. And you?"
"I minored in Medicine, but dropped out. Sorry, Uncle Sam, but it wasn't for me. I'm afraid I fainted at the sight of blood."
"No apology necessary." Sam patted her hand fondly. "I'm sure you will be a great authoress someday."
"That is the plan. Now, if you don't mind, I think I will turn in for the night. It has been a long day."
"Of course." Teresa jumped up. "If you need anything during the night just call."
"I'll be fine. I'm sure I will be asleep before my head hits the pillow. Goodnight everyone."
A chorus of goodnights followed and she made her way down the hallway to her room. This room was larger than the small attic room she rented from the Spencer's a mile off campus. The mattress was firm and a fresh wash basin of water and towels awaited her. She almost felt sorry for what she was about to do. But she had a goal, and nothing would get in the way of it. She would graduate with top honors from Harvard. Professor Myers would be forced to give her a score of one hundred percent on her assignment. She would not be content with just a passing grade. That is why simply conjuring up thoughts of what it would be like for her victim was not enough. She had to see the entire ordeal played out in front of her.
She laid her head on the soft pillow and sighed with contentment. Tomorrow would be a full day. She had supplies to buy and she had to stop by Uncle Sam's office when he was out on a call for a few things. She knew her plan would work now. And she knew which one of the brothers would be her victim. It was too bad that he would have to suffer.
Chapter Two
Sunrise came a lot earlier in California than it did in Connecticut. Maggie forced one eye open and looked at the dim light that shone in through her bedroom window. The sun was barely up and already there were men outside laughing and joking. The sounds of horses clomping by, the heavy rumble of wooden wagon wheels made it impossible for her to go back to sleep. With a heavy sigh she got up and freshened up before donning another one of her dark skirts and white high collared blouses. There was no need to alter her regimen. After all, this was a working vacation.
She glanced at her journal sitting on the small desk and opened it, drawing a long thin finger down the page, organizing her day. If all went well, she could set her plan into motion tomorrow night.
Timing was crucial. She had to execute her plan carefully, carrying it out to the last moment, before saving her victim with an anonymous note. Then she could make her apologies for her shortened stay and get back to her tiny attic room outside Harvard to write her story.
She closed the journal slowly and hid it beneath her clothes in the second drawer of her bureau. To have someone inadvertently read it now would ruin everything.
Satisfied, she closed the bedroom door behind her and headed for the kitchen.
Maggie found everyone half finished with their breakfast as she entered the great room. Breakfast, Uncle Sam had written, was normally served in the kitchen, and she felt a sense of pride that they had decided to eat at the dinning table for her benefit.
"Maggie." Teresa grinned. "We thought we'd let you sleep this morning since you had such a long trip yesterday. Sit down. I hope you like scrambled eggs, bacon and biscuits."
"Sounds wonderful. I'm starving. But I don't know how after the meal I ate last night."
"It's the fresh air," Scott said. "I was the same way when I first got here."
"Now he eats like he's feeding two," Johnny laughed.
"No more than you, little brother," Scott scoffed, reaching over to pat Johnny's belly before Johnny slapped his hand away. Scott knew there wasn't an ounce of fat on his brother's muscled frame.
"Settle down you two," Murdoch warned, but there was no anger in his voice. He turned his attention to Maggie. "Well my dear, how did you sleep last night?"
"Fine I guess. I don't remember my head hitting the pillow and I didn't wake up until I heard the commotion outside."
"I'm sorry about that. But this is a working ranch. Life here starts at the crack of dawn."
"Earlier for some of us," Teresa piped in.
"And we're all grateful, Querida," Johnny grinned, lifting his plate. "You got seconds back there?"
Maggie settled in, feeling the comfort and camaraderie of the Lancer family. She felt a pang of regret for what she was about to do. But she would not let anyone or anything stand in her way now.
"Who is your professor, Maggie?" Scott asked, chuckling at the second heaping plate Teresa handed Johnny.
"Professor Myers."
"I met the man a few times. Fair but tough."
"Tough is right. Fair I'm not sure about."
Scott raised an eyebrow.
"He doesn't think women belong in the classroom and has come right out and said so. He deliberately grades our papers lower than the rest of the class."
"I think that's terrible," Teresa said, sitting down at the table. "A woman is just as smart as a man. Don't you think so, Scott?"
Scott nodded. "With the same education opportunities, yes I agree."
"A woman can do anything a man can do." Teresa nodded her head triumphantly.
"I wouldn't go that far, chica." Johnny pointed his fork at her. "I ain't never seen a woman break a bronc or wrestle a steer to the ground."
"Maybe because you never give us a chance," Teresa shot back.
"Maybe we know you'd break your pretty little necks trying." Johnny grinned.
"Johnny, Teresa…that's enough, we have company," Murdoch warned good- naturedly.
"Well, I'm willing to try anytime whenever you're willing to show me how, Johnny Lancer," Teresa shot back as she started to clear the table.
"Fine. I'm roundin' up a string of horses today. The first one will be yours tomorrow morning."
"Fine. I'll be ready."
"It's a date." Johnny smiled, walking around the table to stand behind Teresa and peck her on the cheek. "I'll be waiting." He grabbed the last biscuit from the plate and juggled it in his hand as he headed for the door. "See ya. And…" He grinned back at Maggie. "You can join us too if ya like."
Maggie sat back in her chair and just drank in the feeling of family. She missed her family back east in New York. She hadn't seen them since she started Harvard. When she graduated with honors at the end of this school year she would visit them for a few weeks. They would be so proud.
Murdoch watched Johnny close the French door behind him. "I thought Johnny and you were going to escort Maggie around town today." He raised an eyebrow at Scott.
"That was the plan, Sir. But Joe said he saw a herd of strays running by Timberlake. We thought if you didn't mind, Maggie, that Teresa and I would show you around."
Murdoch nodded before Maggie could say a thing. "Good idea. Now." Murdoch set his napkin down on the table. "I have work to do too, Maggie. I will leave you in the capable hands of my son and my ward." He winked. "And I'll see you for lunch if you're back in time."
"I don't want to be any bother."
"No bother, my dear. Scott will use any excuse to get out of work. And Teresa needs supplies in town. So I believe everyone will be happy."
"And Johnny? He still has to work? It seems unfair."
"Believe me…" Scott smiled. "Johnny is happiest when he's out on the range."
The trip into town was a pleasant one. Scott drove the buckboard as Teresa and Maggie giggled most of the way. Maggie didn't have many friends. She had no time for the frivolous pursuits that some of the women at school found more important than homework. And few men looked at her more than once. Why should they, she thought, with her sterile looks, hair pulled back tightly and glasses emphasizing her overly- light blue eyes, they had no reason. So it was good to have Teresa to talk to. And she also gleamed more important information about her intended victim and his brother.
Her first stop was at Uncle Sam's office. She had spent twenty minutes with him before he was called out on an emergency. Her uncle reluctantly left, promising that either Teresa or Scott would be back to escort her around town in no time. She happily sent him off, reassuring him that she would be fine. Inwardly she was ecstatic. This was her chance to gather the supplies she needed from her uncle's medicine cabinet.
To her surprise she found it unlocked. She gathered several packets of sleeping powders and a reserved bottle of Chloral Hydrate. Rummaging through drawers she finally found everything she had come for. From talking to Teresa she knew the young woman had the rest of the medicines she would be needing in her pantry. She found a wooden box where he kept his extra syringes…two only, they were hard to come by outside of a hospital. But he had an extra supply of needles and she picked the longest one she could find. She was happy that she had taken a semester of medicine at Harvard. Even though it wasn't for her, it gave her a rudimentary knowledge of the human body. Without it she would never have been able to pull off the perfect murder.
Putting all her supplies into her handbag, she sat down to wait for Teresa or Scott, confident that her plan would work.
Teresa arrived first, apologetic that Maggie had to wait alone after Sam left. Maggie convinced her that she had spent almost no time alone at all and they both sat down to wait for Scott.
"Tell me about Johnny and Scott," Maggie said. "Uncle Sam told me bits and pieces, but I never got a full picture of them. I have to say that I am surprised that Johnny is so young and…"
"Nothing like a gunfighter," Teresa finished for her. "I know. He never wanted to be one, you know. Circumstances made him a gun for hire…but he was never a killer."
"When I came here, I thought I would be afraid of him."
"You have nothing to be afraid of from Johnny Lancer. But, if you ever cause Johnny Madrid to appear…I've only seen him as Madrid once, but when I did I couldn't believe it was the same man. I hope you never have to see him."
"I don't intend to. What about Scott…they seem so different. How do they get along so well?"
"It wasn't easy at first," Teresa remembered a shadow coming over her face. "After Johnny was shot both Murdoch and Scott spent a lot of time in his bedroom nursing him. Then when he could get around he was suspicious of everyone and everything at first. I think Johnny really wanted to be part of a family, he just didn't know how. And Scott, he wanted to prove to Johnny that he could trust him, that he could trust all of us. Slowly Scott and Johnny began to form a friendship, then trust. Now they are inseparable."
"What about Murdoch?"
"Scott and Murdoch get along just fine. But Johnny and Murdoch, that's another story. They still have fights…oh do they ever have fights…but Johnny always comes back. I think Johnny knows he will never have anything as good as he has at Lancer."
"Last question…Are you going to take Johnny up on that horse breaking tomorrow morning?"
Teresa looked at her in astonishment. "Heavens no! I wouldn't get near one of those wild horses. That is just Johnny's way of teasing me. He wouldn't let me near one either. And I think Scott would have both our heads if we tried."
"And Murdoch?"
Teresa laughed. "He would banish all three of us to hard labor."
"It sounds like you all love each other very much."
"We do. I don't know what I would do if something happened to one of them."
Maggie felt the medical supplies she had hidden in her bag and she knew she should feel guilty for what she was about to do…but she would not go to the back of the class.
Dinner was a success with Maggie only downing two glasses of milk. The second one, to everyone's horror, was because she insisted on trying the habaneras. Red faced and panting, her glasses were soon off and she was wiping away the tears.
"Never," she said through gasps, "will I ever not believe someone when they say something is hot. Great heavens above, those peppers are pure fire."
Johnny was nearly under the table, he was laughing so hard. Scott had profound sympathy for her since he had been in the same place not too long ago.
Sam sat next to Maggie and soaked up the love he felt around the table. He was a happy man. All his fears of having his niece join him were put to rest. She was a perfect match for the Lancer family…his family.
Dessert arrived and then they all adjourned to the great room. Murdoch poured the men his best scotch and gave the ladies a small glass of port. Maggie took a couple of sips then set it down. She had planning to do tonight. She couldn't afford to be tipsy from a glass of port.
It was soon time to say goodbye to Sam, who felt it best for his patients if he went back to town, and the family headed to their bedrooms.
The days around Lancer started early and ended early. Maggie lit the lantern on the small writing desk in her room and took out her journal. Things were going just as she had planned. It seemed that lady luck was looking down at her with open arms. Everywhere she turned, opportunity awaited her. When Teresa told her that she had to go to a neighboring ranch to help with the canning she gladly saw her off, feigning tiredness. Left alone, she slowly walked through each room, carefully diagramming the furniture. She needed to walk from her room, in the dark, up the stairs to his room, without the assistance of any light. She counted the stairs, and ran back down to recount them again. She counted the doors to his room. She carefully surveyed his room. She noted where the bed was and the dresser. The nightstand next to the bed with the oil lamp. A box of matches sat next to the lamp. Only after he was sound asleep could she chance lighting the lamp. She would have to ask, casually of course, if he was neat and folded his clothes carefully or if they were strewn across the floor as he fell into bed. She didn't want to trip over an errant boot. It could make the difference between her plan working and not working.
And she had time to visit Teresa's pantry. She took only what she needed, and remembered to take two cups for her to mix the Chloral Hydrate and the willow bark tea.
She carefully wrapped everything she needed in several towels and slipped them under her clothes in her valise. She was all set for tomorrow night.
Tomorrow she would go over the house once more. Ask the questions that still needed answers and take a nap in the afternoon so she would be fresh for the night ahead.
It was almost time. Soon he would be her victim and the perfect murder would begin.
Maggie heard a frantic pounding on her door and she scrambled from bed, forgetting her glasses and nearly tripping over the long hem of her nightgown.
"What is it?" she called through the closed door, her heart pounding.
"Come quick," Teresa called back. "Johnny is going to start gentling the horses, you don't want to miss this."
Maggie collapsed against her door. A million things had passed through her mind. What if one of the brothers were hurt? Or Killed. Her whole career, her whole life depended on her story and she needed them healthy. Their fate had to rest in her hands.
"I'll be right there." She walked over to the small wash table and patted the sleep from her eyes. Her hair still hung down her back. She quickly pulled it back. She would wind it up into a bun later. She did want to see Johnny gentle the horses. And she wanted to talk to both brothers today. One was as important as the other. Part of her story revolved around reactions of her victim's sibling.
She found a dozen or more ranch hands sitting on the corral fence. They all sat motionless and silent. She spotted Teresa sitting on the fence, Scott by her side and Murdoch standing behind her, his hand resting against her back, the casual protective act of a loving father.
She was nearly to the corral before she saw what had captured everyone's attention.
Johnny stood in the center of the corral, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. He had his back turned to the most magnificent black horse she had ever seen. The horse pranced around the corral until his curiosity got the better of him and he slowed to a stop. Then Maggie heard Johnny begin to talk. His voice was feather light. She couldn't understand what he said, he spoke in Spanish, but his tone was so lyrical that she felt herself falling under its spell.
"What's he saying?" she whispered.
"Nothing really. It's not the words…it's his voice the horse is listening to," Scott whispered back. "Watch."
The horse stepped a little closer and Johnny slowly lifted his right hand and gently glided his fingers down the silky muzzle. The horse shied away and Johnny lowered his arm again, his voice still soft and lyrical. The horse came back as if drawn to Johnny like the mystical call of a siren.
A half hour later Joe carried a saddle out to the center of the corral and Johnny carefully cinched the saddle tight. It seemed as if the entire crowd around the corral took a collective breath as Johnny stepped into the stirrup and swung his leg over the saddle.
The horse stood docile for a moment then exploded into a raging tornado. The once quiet crowd was now hooting and hollering…Maggie couldn't help but join in. Then Johnny went sailing through the air. Dead silence filled the corral until Johnny got up with a sheepish grin and jumped back in the saddle.
When all was said and done, it took Johnny a little over four hours to gentle the wild horse.
"That was wonderful!" Maggie cried as Johnny limped over to the fence. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," He grinned. "You wanna take a try?"
Maggie found herself blushing. "You do that with every horse?"
"We get top dollar for the horses Johnny gentles. In fact we've had buyers come all the way from back east to buy one of Johnny's horses," Murdoch said with pride. "It may take a bit longer…and Johnny's backside may take a beating sometimes…but there is no one better."
Scott leaned over and pointed to a second corral. "Those horses will be broken by the other hands, under Johnny's supervision. We wouldn't stay in the horse business if we only broke two horses a day. But we make three times the money on one of Johnny's horses. He hand picks them from the herd."
"There is so much to know about ranching," Maggie said. "I want to learn all I can while I'm here"
"That's wonderful," Teresa cried. "And the first thing we need to do is get you out that skirt."
Teresa giggled at the look of horror that came over Maggie's face. "I should have a pair of pants that will fit you, then we can go riding. Tomorrow sound good?"
Maggie looked at the Lancer brothers and nodded. "Tomorrow sounds wonderful." She felt bad that their lives were about to change. But…she would not go to the back of the class.
Chapter Three
Maggie forced herself to lie still, listening as the house settled down for the night. She couldn't remember ever being so excited, or so scared. One by one she counted the bedroom doors closing. The sound of Uncle Sam moving around in the room next to hers finally quieted and she sighed in relief. She had not expected him to spend the night …of all nights. But it would not change her plans.
Timing was crucial. She had to wait until she was sure everyone in the household was fast asleep, but also give herself enough time to finish before Teresa arose before dawn.
Everything rode on this night.
The grandfather clock in the great room chimed twelve midnight. Everyone had retired two hours ago…one brother even earlier than that. It was risky, she knew, to put the sleeping powders in his glass as they sat around the fireplace in the great room talking about the day's events. But she needed him asleep for her plan to work. What's more, she had doubled the dose, shaking in two packets into the glass. Her hope was that he would retire as soon as he felt sleepy. And he did. She watched as his heavy eyes began to droop and his head dipped once before he stood up and excused himself.
"It's been a long day," he said. "See you in the morning."
"Good night, Son," Murdoch had called after him.
Now the house was silent. Only the sound of the crickets and the soft hooting of a barn owl broke the silence.
Slowly she climbed out of bed. She still wore the jeans Teresa had lent her. They were so much easier to get around in, far less dangerous than her skirt brushing against something and knocking it over. She closed the heavy curtains used to keep the sun out of the room during the hot summer days, and lit the lantern on the writing desk.
Carefully, she wrapped everything she needed in a small satchel and blew out the lantern. Taking a deep breath, she opened her door. The sound of the latch turning echoed loudly in her ears and she waited. Nothing stirred. It seemed that the beating of her heart in her throat would wake more people than the opening and closing of her door.
She waited for a long moment for Uncle Sam to open his door and peek out. Nothing. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
With the diagram she had drawn of the house fresh in her mind's eye, she began to tip-toe down the hallway in bare feet.
The moon had not yet risen and the great room loomed huge and black before her. If not for the diagram she would never have made out the slightly darker images of the furniture that stood ready to trip her in the obstacle course to her victim's room.
Slowly she made her way across the room. Time was of the essence…but to hurry was risky, so she took her time.
Finally she reached the stairs. There were sixteen steeps. The third from the top had a loose board and squeaked. She began to take each step one at a time, holding onto the banister with her left hand and clutching the satchel, filled with her tools for murder, close to her breast with her right.
She stopped at the thirteenth step and waited. Her heart was racing far too fast. The air felt so much warmer up here. She felt a sheen of sweat on her face. Carefully she stepped over the fourteenth step with a silent grunt and made it to the top landing. The dark hall looked like an endless tunnel before her.
As she passed the first door on her right, Maggie heard loud snores coming from within, and knew Murdoch was fast asleep. Teresa's room was the next on the left and she heard only silence from inside. The next two rooms belonged to the brothers.
It had been a hard decision on which one to choose. Maggie had grown fond of both of the Lancer brothers faster than she expected. They were both kind, gentle men, who paid her more attention than a dozen men in half dozen years. But she couldn't think of it that way. She couldn't allow them to become personal. They were a means to an end…a way for her to write the perfect murder in every exacting detail.
She passed the first door up, listening for any sound from within. This time there was a softer snore, even and rhythmic. She wondered if he slept in a nightshirt or in the raw? Where had she heard a term like that? She felt herself blushing in the darkness.
Then she was there. In front of his door. Her heart pounding. Everything from this moment on would change. Maggie Stewart would never be the same again. Innocence would be lost and blood would be on her hands. Was she willing to sacrifice so much just for one grade on one paper in one class? Had any of Professor Myer's other students gone this far? Were there other victims out there, sacrificed for the pleasure of a masochistic teacher?
Taking a deep breath she pushed the thoughts aside. She had made her decision and she would carry it through.
The latch sounded louder here than her latch downstairs and she froze, waiting for one of the doors to open. But all remained quiet. She slipped into his room and closed the door carefully, sagging against it.
She waited, drinking in the smells, the sound of him. The aroma of leather and strong soap permeated the air. The sound of his breathing, even and deep, told her that the sleeping powders had drawn him down into a deep, drugged slumber.
She moved cautiously. A faint light from the half moon on the rise caught the shimmering sheer curtains in the light breeze. She closed the drapes and reached for the matches she hoped were on the nightstand. They were just where she had remembered them. She lit the lamp and raised the wick just enough so she could see him lying on the bed, his arms flung to his sides, his knees hanging over the edge of the bed. He had barely made it to the mattress before the sleeping powders took full affect.
With a faint smile, Maggie lifted his legs and swung them onto the mattress. He didn't even have time to take off his boots.
"I'm sorry, Johnny, that you have to be the one…" she said softy, brushing the dark hair from his eyes. "But your struggle to survive when others would have failed makes you the one I need. I had picked Scott…but then I saw you get back on that horse after being thrown…I know you will fight this until the very end. But don't worry, I'll tell Sam…before it's too late. I promise."
She kissed him lightly on the cheek and pulled the pillow from beneath his head, tilting his chin toward the ceiling.
"I'm going to tell you everything I'm going to do so you won't be scared," she whispered, opening her journal and leafing to a blank page.
She looked back at him and noted in her journal that he slept peacefully…the lines of fatigue gone from his brow, his closed eyelids like dark crescent moons.
"I gave you some sleeping powders in your drink, but I'm afraid you might still wake up so I'm going to give you something a bit stronger…make sure that you stay asleep," she continued to whisper. "We can't have you waking up and alerting the house, or worse, remembering I was here."
From the satchel she drew a long black tube. "This is a feeding tube," she explained, knowing that he could not hear her, but comforted by her own voice. "You may have a sore throat tomorrow morning, but nothing more. This is the only way I can administer the Chloral Hydrate. It will keep you in a sound sleep."
Slowly she pushed the tube down his throat. When he began to gag she gently caressed his cheek. "The worst is almost over," she whispered. He quieted down and her stomach squeezed at the knowledge that her touch and her voice could calm him so easily.
"This," she said, as she carefully poured a small amount of the Chloral Hydrate mixed in water into a small funnel at the end of the tube, "will keep you in a deep sleep. And this," she said as she infused a second solution into the tube, "is willow bark tea. It will help with the pain and it is also a blood thinner."
She carefully pulled the tube out and wrapped it in a small towel before returning it to the satchel.
"My assignment," she spoke softly as she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled his limp arms free of the sleeves. "is to create the perfect murder. One that even the victim is unaware of. My semester of medical school gave me this idea." She rolled him onto his side, his back to the light from the lantern. She could see some deep bruising and scrapes on his shoulder blades and back from the fall from the horse. Everywhere she turned, things just seemed to be falling into place for her. She picked up the long thin needle, wishing she could have sterilized it, but the smell of the carbolic acid would linger in the room far too long.
"You won't feel much pain in the morning," she promised, moving his arm out in front of him and positioning the needle above his ribcage and below his armpit. "I am going to insert this needle…" she pushed the needle, feeling the resistance of the tough outer layer of skin before it easily sank to the hilt, his body bucking as the needle hit its target, "and put a small puncture in your liver. It will begin to bleed slowly. You probably won't even be aware of it until sometime tomorrow." She pulled the needle out and pressed a towel against his side to stop the small amount of bleeding. "It is the perfect murder, you know. There is no reason anyone would ever suspect something like this. And if my Uncle Sam becomes too suspicious…well we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. There now." She lifted the towel and a small puncture wound was all that was visible. With the tip of the needle she scratched his skin around the puncture to make it look like the other scrapes on his back. "Now we wait."
Gently she rolled him onto his back again and made sure there was no more blood seeping from the puncture wound. Satisfied, she threaded his limp arms through the sleeves of his shirt again and replaced the pillow.
"I hope you can forgive me someday, Johnny." She leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips. The warm smell of his breath made her heart leap. But there was no sacrifice too great to prove to Professor Myers and the rest of the world that she was as good as…no, better…than all the men in her class. She would not be denied. "But this will be the best paper ever written. I will of course change your names before I hand it in to the professor. And it will be so good he will be forced to publish it. Someday," she brushed his hair back from his face, the lantern light dancing softly on his dark skin, "everyone will read your story."
She stood up slowly. It was done. She repacked her satchel and turned down the wick in the lantern. There was still much to do tonight. Everything she did and felt must be noted in exacting detail while it was still fresh in her mind.
Maggie sat at the breakfast table, trying hard to calm her nerves. She looked across at Johnny's seat, conspicuously empty. Did something happen after she left his room? She had been so careful. But maybe the puncture was too big or too deep…maybe he bled too quickly, went into shock.
She looked around the table. No one looked too concerned. If anything, Murdoch looked annoyed at his son's late arrival. Uncle Sam sat next to her, lost in conversation with Scott. Teresa busied herself with the array of dishes on the table.
Then he was there, slipping into his chair in front of her with an embarrassed grin.
"Sorry," he said. "I over slept."
Teresa handed him a bowl of scrambled eggs, concern written on her face. "Are you feeling alight, Johnny? You look a little tired."
And he did. Maggie noted that his eyelids drooped slightly and there was the hint of dark shadows beneath his eyes. She had hoped the effects of the sleeping powders would have dissipated by now. Would Uncle Sam recognize the systems? Was this her first mistake?
"I'm fine. I'm just dead tired this morning for some reason."
'Dead Tired…' The innocent phrase startled Maggie and she coughed discreetly to hide her sudden gasp. Dead tired… such a simple phrase. She lowered her eyes to her plate. Johnny couldn't know how right he was.
"You feel up to handling those horses today?" Murdoch asked. There was no real concern in his voce, just a question pertaining to the running of the ranch.
Johnny nodded. "I hope to get two more done this morning. Joe's got the men working on the others. I figure we'll come in on schedule, if not ahead."
Maggie watched Johnny take a bite of the scrambled eggs and grimace.
"Johnny?" Teresa was studying him intently. "Your throat sore? I just saw you flinch when you swallowed."
"A little," Johnny admitted. "But it's nothing."
"Sore throat, oversleeping…" Teresa was on her feet and pressing the back of her hand to Johnny's forehead. "You don't have a fever."
"That's because I'm not sick." Johnny looked over at Maggie and she felt her face blush. "You'd think I was dying or something the way she carries on."
"You know Teresa," Scott teased, "the eternal nurse. I think she's happiest when she's got someone tucked in bed hovering over them with a cup of that God awful willow bark tea."
"That's not true, Scott Lancer." Teresa huffed. But her eyes sparkled.
"You should be happy you have such a good nurse around here, as accident prone as you two Lancers are. If it weren't for her I'd probably have to close my business and open an office here." Sam chuckled.
"Well maybe Sam should have a look at you," Teresa suggested.
"Sam ain't here for doctoring." Johnny shoved his plate aside, untouched after the first taste. "He's here to visit Maggie. Now I've got ta get going if I'm gonna get any work done."
"I've got a better idea," Teresa said, putting her hands on Johnny's shoulders. "Why don't we all go for a picnic down by the lake today? Call it a holiday. We'll name it Maggie Day."
Maggie found herself blushing and speechless.
"I like that." Scott laughed. "Maggie Day. How about it brother? You said we were ahead of schedule"
"And that's just where we want to stay," Murdoch said. "I think it's a wonderful idea, but let's do it this afternoon. Johnny can get his work done, and you two…" he nodded toward Teresa and Scott reproachfully, "can get your work done today too. What about you, Sam, can you join us?"
"I'd love to." He squeezed Maggie's hand. "But I've got to head on over to the Preston place. I promised Millie that I would take a look at Danny. I can't tell her anything she doesn't already know, or do anything to stop the inevitable. Danny Preston was born with a weak heart," Sam explained. "He's hung on longer than I expected. Eight years now. But I'm afraid the end is near."
Maggie felt her heart jump. Uncle Sam was supposed to be here at the end to save Johnny. She had made him a promise last night. This was not part of her plan.
"Nothing sadder than a child leaving this earth before his parents." She heard Murdoch say softly. "It's not the way it should be."
'No, it's not the way it should be.' She reflected sadly. 'It's not the way it's supposed to be.'
"But it's the way of things. There is only so much a doctor can do. Just be thankful that you have two healthy sons."
"Oh I am, Sam, I am. So how long do you expect to be gone?"
"A day or two. I'm sorry Maggie."
A day or two… Maggie glanced at Johnny. A day or two was too long. But there was nothing she could do.
Maggie nodded. "Hurry home as fast as you can. I'll miss you."
Sam squeezed her hand again. "How was I so lucky to get a niece like you, my dear?"
"Come on Sam," Johnny said. "I'll walk you to your buggy on my way out."
Sam nodded, patting Maggie's shoulder. "You boys take good care of my Maggie, you hear?"
"Only the best for your niece," Scott laughed.
Maggie watched them disappear out the door. She felt sickened for a moment, but she couldn't tell her uncle what she had done, and by the time he got back it would be too late. Her story would now be non-fiction.
"Come on in!" Teresa called. "The water is wonderful."
Maggie sat on the riverbank. Everyone else but Murdoch was in the water.
She watched the antics of the two brothers, acting more like little kids than adult men. She had to laugh when Johnny dove down beneath Scott and came up, lifting the startled blonde into the air and dumping him unceremoniously back into the water. Scott came back up spitting and sputtering water, with revenge in his eyes.
"Are they always like this?" Maggie laughed.
"I'm afraid so."
She saw Teresa giggle and Scott turned on her "You think its funny little girl?" he growled, and began splashing her until she could barely breathe she was laughing so hard. Then Johnny was behind her, lifting her gently into the air and dropping her back in the water.
Was this what a real family was like? Not the cold, austere correctness of New York Society? This kind of frivolous behavior would never be condoned by her parents. Laughter was a rare commodity in the Stewart household. Love was a word without meaning. But not for the Lancers. The love they shared was genuine.
Scott, not to be outdone by his younger brother, disappeared beneath the surface a moment before Johnny suddenly yelled, his arms flailing in the air as he lost his balance and did a belly flop.
"Come on you three," Murdoch called, "get out of there so we can eat. I'm starving."
Teresa disappeared behind some bushes to change but Johnny and Scott just flopped down on the blanket, still dripping wet.
Scott pulled on a shirt but left it unbuttoned, but Johnny had no desire to cover up, he enjoyed the hot sun on his chest. If he knew the effect it was having on Maggie he didn't let on. He simply stretched out on the blanket and closed his eyes.
She nearly succumbed to the feelings of contentment. Then Johnny shifted and she saw the tell tale puncture mark…she felt a cold shiver run down her spine. What had she done?
No. She fought back the niggling feelings of guilt. She could not allow feelings to tarnish her objectivity. This was not personal and she couldn't allow it to get personal. She needed a victim and she picked the best one. The pain she would cause Johnny and his family was needed to write her paper, to give it the emotion it needed. She had to remain strong. She would not go to the back of the class.
She sat back and ate, pretending to enjoy the camaraderie. But in truth she was watching and listening. It wouldn't be long now, before Johnny began to exhibit the first symptoms…perhaps only a few hours.
She smiled inwardly. The first two parts of her assignment had worked out flawlessly. The planning and the execution had been brilliant. Now she only needed to watch as the final part of her assignment played out before her.