Assumptions for all Lancer fanfic written by phoenix:
1) The Lancer Ranch is located in the San Joaquin Valley, five to ten miles southwest of Modesto, California, which became an official town in 1870* and was incorporated in 1884*,
2) Modesto is located on the Tuolumne River, near the Stanislaus River, and has grown tremendously since the railroads began to connect it to other parts of the country. In fact, Sacramento and Los Angeles were fully connected by good, solid, non-interrupted railroad lines by 1876*,
3) California became a state on September 9, 1850* and, since that time, the area surrounding Modesto has evolved into a thriving community,
4) Modesto became a major railroad stop making it a town able to offer a full range of goods, services, schools, churches and other community functions. With Modesto providing for the needs of those living within a large radius of the city, the smaller towns built before the 1850s, to serve gold rushers and the early ranchers in the area, shuttered up and became ghost towns,
5) During the 1850s, the San Joaquin Valley evolved from being gold rush territory and open range. It became an area known for its agriculture and cattle ranching. With the railroad support available in Modesto, and a few strategically placed dams to stabilize the water supply, the land in this area became, and remains today, some of the most productive farm and ranch land in California, and
6) Murdoch Lancer sent for his two sons in 1871. Scott was 25-years-old when he arrived and Johnny would be turning 21-years-old later that same year.
*Verified by Internet sources including: The State of California, City of Modesto and California State Library
Additional assumptions for this Lancer fanfic story:
1) It is 1876 and the Lancer Ranch has grown bigger, better and more profitable since Murdoch's sons arrived to help him manage the ranch, and
2) Teresa and Scott have both married and started their families. Johnny and Murdoch remain the bachelors around the Lancer Ranch.
FROM ATLANTIC TO PACIFIC
by phoenix
CHAPTER ONE – ONE HECK OF A LONG DAY
"Is the walk helping?"
"A bit."
"Feel like talking?"
"I would," Scott couldn't help but try offering his brother what he could muster of a smile, "if I knew what the heck to talk about."
They walked on in silence, finally standing still when they got to the end of the pier. Scott stood taking in deep breaths of the ocean air surrounding them. He gulped in air until his brother's chuckling brought him back to the present.
"Tell me, again," Johnny smiled when Scott shot a stare in his direction, "how does the Atlantic smell?"
"Well, I've obviously been doing a bad job of explaining it to you, but there is a difference. The Pacific doesn't have a natural smell. When you approach it, one has a sensation that there is more moisture in the air, but there isn't a definitive smell. It simply smells fresh and clean, in most places, and I've found that to be true in San Francisco and, now, Los Angeles."
"It is true whatever part of the Pacific Ocean I've seen; here, San Francisco, down in Mexico or all the small coastal towns I've wandered through over the years. Of course, that doesn't explain to me what you mean by the Atlantic Ocean's smell."
Scott closed his eyes as delightful images of Boston's harbor and other Atlantic Ocean ports danced through is head. Out of habit, when he had these daydreams, Scott took another deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Let's see, how do I explain it?" He smiled when a new idea came to him, sharing, "When you leave Philadelphia and head straight for the New Jersey shore."
"Philadelphia? When did that city enter the picture?"
"Just listen, Johnny. I was thinking of cities that aren't right on the ocean, but close to it. My analogy will make sense soon enough."
"Okay."
"You leave Philadelphia behind and head over land that becomes more sandy every mile. More than a mile before you're actually at the beach, your senses fill with a salty, sandy, seaweedy, ocean smell. If a blind man happened to smell it, he would tell you the Atlantic Ocean wasn't far away. Here, the poor man would walk right off the pier never realizing an ocean was in front of him." Scott smiled, then added, "And, of course, the Atlantic up in the Eastern Seaboard is more green than blue."
"Green!"
Johnny shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
"Maybe someday, I'll get back there with you and it will make sense to me. Heck, a few years ago, no one expected it would be so easy to get from Modesto to Los Angeles. Straight shot … Boom, you are here in three days. Used to take weeks of trains, stages and a whole lot of fortitude to make the same trip."
"The Valley really has changed since Murdoch brought us home; hasn't it?"
"Not only the Valley, Big Brother, we've changed a bit, too."
They laughed and continued their late night chat all the way to the hotel. Once inside their suite, they said goodnight for the second time that evening and headed back into their adjoining bedrooms. Despite being exhausted from their trip, a long day's work and their late night walk after Scott couldn't sleep earlier, it was only a matter of minutes before Scott's screams rang out.
"Scott!"
Johnny lit the lamp at the door, then walked over to his brother's bed.
"You okay?"
"Sure."
He sat shaking his head; utterly confused by what was happening and not knowing how to make himself stop screaming.
"It has to be the visit to your doctor friend after we finished signing those horse contracts at the Army's Administration building." Johnny slid into the chair by the door, admitting, "I wasn't even in that war, but seeing those broken men still stuck at a smelly dank Army Depot after all these years ... Let me tell you, I found it more than a bit alarming. The men physically crippled by the war went home a long time ago, but these poor bastards, the ones who lost their minds, they could be in Army Hospitals for the rest of their lives."
"I know; it bothered me, too."
"Enough to start these nightmares?"
"Perhaps."
"You had them before?"
"Used to have them on a regular basis, especially when I first returned to Boston when the war ended." Scott leaned over and poured himself a glass of water from the vase on his nightstand, adding, "They lessened in frequency over time and they stopped when I came out to California. I truly thought I was done with them."
"Nightmares are funny like that. They reach out and grab you when you're least expecting them to."
"You an expert?"
Johnny returned his brother's weary smile.
"No, but your friend seems to be an expert about the war's ability to play tricks on a man's mind. He's dedicated his medical practice, his entire life, to helping those poor buggers. Imagine, he said there are wards full of these men all around the country."
"Yes, David and his colleagues certainly have their work cut out for them if any of the men under their care are ever going to be well enough to go home. The war ended more than ten years ago; I can't imagine how he doesn't find it exasperating."
"Maybe, if you think it would help, we could stay an extra day. That would give you time to go over and talk to him about your nightmares suddenly coming back."
"Thanks for offering to stay, but that won't be necessary. I'm sure the nightmares will disappear as soon as we leave Los Angeles. The Army Depot, especially those smells around the hospital wards, just brought back some unpleasant memories."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure." Scott finished his water and reached for a book, offering, "You go on to bed. I'm going to read; maybe I'll drift off, and maybe I won't, but you need to get some sleep."
Johnny nodded his gratitude, then headed back to his room where he quickly fell into a much needed sleep. In the next room over, Scott read and worked hard to stay awake. He didn't want to disturb his brother, or any of the guests in rooms nearby, any further that night.