Fantasy Island
Brazero
By Barb & Pat Roman
All Fantasy Island characters are the property of Aaron Spelling, Sony Tri-Star and TPTB. Any other copyrighted characters are the property of their respective TPTB. We're only borrowing them for a while. We'll give them back when we're done ... Maybe. Anyone else belongs to us and can be used only with our permission.
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Tatoo was waiting in the car as Roarke came out of the main house. He dismissed the driver and got behind the wheel. They drove for quite a while, and the area they were in did not look familiar to Tatoo.
"Boss." Tatoo finally said as they turned off the paved road and headed toward the middle of the island. "This isn't the way to the seaplane dock.
"I know it isn't, Tatoo. You see, there are no guests scheduled to arrive on the Island today."
"But the plane, Boss? What about the plane? I know I saw it land and pull up to the dock."
"That plane is here to take the guests whose fantasies have ended back to the mainland, not to bring new ones."
"Then where are we going?'
"I have granted a special fantasy. You know Doctor Ann Scott, don't you?"
"Of course I know her. She is the new doctor at the hospital. She started there two months ago. I was at her welcoming party."
"Last week, she was telling me that she felt that today's medical practice was becoming almost an assembly line process. Multiple patients are lined up in tiny cubicles waiting for treatment. Like so many cattle in a chute. Most of the preliminary work is done either by computers or by technicians. Even the nurses are rarely seen. The doctor then goes from room to room, doing little more than checking the results of the tests, and / or prescribing medications. Most of the time, he or she spends less than twenty minutes with any one person. Often they have no knowledge of their patients other than what is written on their charts.
She wanted to go back to a time when the doctor - patient relationship was on a much more personal basis. For the past week, she has been in a small western town before the turn of the century. It is almost time for her fantasy to end."
He pulled the car into a small clearing and parked it. "You wait here." He told his diminutive assistant. "I will go and get Doctor Scott and bring her back." He walked through a small opening in the rocks and disappeared from sight.
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Doctor Ann Scott stopped at the door of the tiny cabin. It was situated less than ten miles from town, but it might as well have been in the middle of nowhere. The nearest house was at least a mile away.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Landrum. Your son is going to be all right." She hoped. Seven year old Bobby Landrum had what in her day would have been a run of the mill inner ear infection. A shot of broad spectrum antibiotic and a follow up prescription of oral antibiotics would have cured it in a few days. In these times though, it was very serious. There was a good possibility that the boy could lose his hearing.
She took out an envelope of pills. They were little more than a combination of herbs and quinine in a sugar base, but they were better than nothing. Sulfa wouldn't be discovered for another fifteen years, and antibiotics and antiviral drugs were not even imagined. The concept of a sterile environment was only beginning to be considered.
"Give him one of these every four hours until they are gone. And keep putting the warm oil in his ears. Don't forget to clean out the old oil first. If it gets too bad, give him a teaspoon of this powder in a glass of water." She handed her a packet of powder. It was pulverized peyote, an herb the Indians used as a mild hallucinogen. It also had strong analgesic properties. Much like marijuana. At least it would keep the pain to a minimum. "In two days, take him to see Doctor Addams. He'll give you some more pills and more powder."
"You're not going to be here anymore?" Maude Landrum asked.
"I'm afraid not. I have to leave here tonight."
"Where are you going?"
"I have to return to my home. I was only sent here temporarily while Dr. Addams was at the Territorial Capital. He should be back sometime tomorrow."
"You know, I was very leery when they said that a woman doctor would be taking over for Doc Addams. But I must admit, I've grown a might fond of you since you came here. You are doing a really fine job. And I think I can speak for most of the people around here. I'm gonna miss you when you go."
"Thank you, Mrs. Landrum … Maude." Ann took the lady's hands in hers. "That means a lot to me. For what it's worth, I'm going to miss all of you, too."
"Won't you stay for dinner?" Maude asked. "We got plenty, and Josiah will be in from the north forty in about an hour or two. He'll be powerful disappointed if you go before he gets a chance to say goodbye to you."
"I'd like nothing more than to have dinner with you and Mr. Landrum, but I can't." She checked the watch hanging from her neck. It was almost five, and Roarke would be waiting at the portal at six thirty to return to Fantasy Island. There would be only a three hour window. If the portal closed before she got there, it would be another three days before it opened again. She climbed into the wagon and started down the road to town.
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Roarke guided his chestnut stallion to the rail and dismounted. When he had passed through the portal, his appearance had change to something more appropriate to this era. He was now dressed in the manner of a wealthy landowner from a country to the south of the border. He started toward the doctor's office but his path was blocked at the foot of the stairs by two rough looking men.
"Hold it right there, Brazero." One of the men said to him menacingly. "Just where do you think you're goin'?"
"I am going to see the doctor." Roarke replied.
"Oh no you ain't." The man continued. "Why don't you just get back on that mangy fleabag of yours and go see the doctor over on your side of the river? I hear he's just as good at treating people as he is with animals."
"I have an appointment with Doctor Scott."
Roarke attempted to get to the stairs but the man stopped him once more. "Hey, Virgil." He called to the other man. "I think the Brazero needs his ears cleaned out. He don't hear too good. I said you ain't goin' up there."
"Maybe you're right, Clay. Maybe he'll hear this better." Virgil cocked his fist and swung at Roarke. Roarke easily ducked. He grabbed the man's outstretched arm and pulled it sharply downward. Virgil went headlong into the water trough in front of the wooden sidewalk.
Clay started for Roarke, but he stopped abruptly.
"Okay, you two." A voice behind Roarke called. "You've had your fun. Clay, why don't you and your good for nothing brother go and crawl back under the rocks you crawled out of and leave the honest folk of this town alone."
Clay mumbled something unintelligible under his breath as he helped his brother out of the water. Then, the two of them got on their horses and rode off.
Roarke turned toward the sound of the voice. The man standing behind him was wearing a lawman's badge on his vest. "I hope they didn't give you too hard a time, Senor … Senor ah ... " The man said.
"Roarke. My name is Roarke."
The lawman extended his hand. "My name is Jerry Hammond, Senor Roarke. As you probably guessed, I'm the sheriff in these parts. I'm afraid that the Morgan brothers aren't exactly the town welcoming committee. In fact, they're nothing but trouble. Two of the meanest boys this place ever seen. I'd advise you to steer clear of them. As you found out, they ain't exactly fond of strangers. Or just about anyone else, for that matter."
"I shall take your warning under consideration, Sheriff." Roarke started for the doctor's office once more.
"If you're looking for the Doc, she ain't here. She got word that the Landrum boy was sick, and she rode out about three hours ago. She may not be back for quite a while. Maybe not till tomorrow. You're welcome to wait in my office if you'd like. If she ain't back by nightfall, you can probably stay at Ma Turner's boarding house for the night. It's right across the street. That's where the Doc has been living." He pointed to the house.
Roarke smiled softly. "Thank you for the offer, Sheriff, but my business with the doctor is quite urgent. I had better ride out and meet her at the Landrum homestead."
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Ann flicked the reins across the horse's back in an effort to get more speed from the animal, but the mare was going as fast as she could. It was almost five thirty and she was still along way from town. With a little bit of luck, no make that a lot of luck, she might make it in time.
Suddenly, the rear wheel of the buggy began to wobble. Almost immediately, it separated from the axle. The buggy lurched at a crazy angle, and it was all that Ann could do to keep from being thrown out of her seat. The horse, frightened by the incident, reared and bucked wildly, and took off at breakneck speed down the road. It took all the resources she had, but at last she got the mare calmed down and Ann was able to bring her under control. After what seemed to be an eternity, she finally managed to stop the buggy.
She climbed off and surveyed the damage. Neither she nor the horse seemed to be injured, and except for the wheel, the buggy was intact. The wheel was laying in a field about a hundred yards down the road. It took nearly all of her strength to wrestle the wheel back to the carriage, but there was no way she was going to get it back on the wagon by herself. She leaned against the buggy and shook her head. "Where's the auto club when you need them?"
As if in answer to her question, two riders came down the trail toward her. She gestured frantically for them to stop. As they came closer, she began to regret her actions. The two riders were the Morgan brothers. She did not want their help, but, given the circumstances, she had no choice.
"Please help me." She said as they dismounted. "My buggy lost a wheel and I have to get to town as soon as possible. In fact I'm late as it is. I'll be grateful for whatever help you can give me."
"Clay. You put the wheel back on." Virgil Morgan said to his brother as he took Ann roughly by the arm. "I'll see just how grateful she can be." He pulled her forcibly toward a gully by the side of the road. "When I'm done, she can be grateful to you."
"When we get to town, I'll pay you handsomely." Ann said, trying to break from Virgil's grip.
"That ain't the kind of gratitude we're talkin' about." Virgil smiled evilly. "I think you know what we want." He turned her facing him. His eyes were filled with lust.
She tried again to pull away from him, but he pulled her tightly to him. She swung at him with all her might. He ducked and easily deflected the blow. She tried to kick him in a sensitive part. He anticipated her and moved aside and her knee only grazed the outside of his thigh. She screamed, but his mouth brutally covered hers.
"I do not believe the lady wishes your attentions."
Virgil turned and faced Roarke, sitting astride his stallion. "What business is it of yours, Brazero?" Virgil sneered. "I thought we told you to hightail it back to your side of the border." He went for his gun, but before he could even tighten his grip on the weapon in his holster, a gun had almost magically appeared in Roarke's hand. Roarke motioned for Clay to join his brother.
"Those gunbelts must be very heavy." Roarke said. "Why don't you remove them and throw them in the bushes." He pointed to a clump of cactus about ten feet away.
"You're out of your … " Clay started to say, but the sound of the hammer of Roarke's gun being pulled back made him change his mind. Reluctantly, the brothers unbuckled their guns and did as they were told.
"Now your boots."
"Our boots?" Virgil stared at Roarke.
"Now!" He cocked the gun again.
Grumbling, the two men pulled off their boots and threw them with their gunbelts.
"I'm certain you will find the walk back to town most interesting." Roarke said, pointing along the road. "If you do not stop, you should be back there before dark. I suggest you start walking … now."
Roarke watched as the two men started walking gingerly along the road. He turned to Ann. "Time is short." He took the reins of one of the horses belonging to the Morgan brothers. "There is no time to repair the buggy. Take this mount." He handed her the reins. "We can make much better time this way than if you were to ride on my horse with me."
Ann mounted the horse. Roarke slapped the other one soundly across the rump and it took off at a full gallop across the field. Roarke and Ann then started off in the direction of the portal.
Virgil turned to his brother as they watched the pair ride off. He reached into the back of his waistband and drew a small revolver.
"What are you going to do with that?" Clay asked.
"I might not have gotten the girl." Virgil said, aiming the gun at Roarke's back. "But I sure aim to get me a Brazero. Especially after what he just did to us."
Roarke crouched low in the saddle as the shot rang out. He spurred his horse. "RIDE!" He shouted to Ann. They took off at a full gallop across the field.
After a few minutes, Ann reined in her steed. Roarke was still behind her, but he should have been a lot closer than he was. She saw that his horse was barely trotting. She rode to him. He was slumped over the saddle and as she pulled alongside him, she saw why. The back of his jacket was covered in blood.
"The portal … " Roarke said, his voice heavy with pain. " … If you ride hard … you can be there … before it closes."
She quickly examined his wound. She took off her scarf and folded it into a compress and tucked it under his shirt. "You wouldn't survive a hard ride." She said.
"In three days … it will open … again ... I will go through … at that time."
"The way this wound is bleeding, unless you get treatment, and soon, you won't last until morning, let alone three days. There's a ranch about two miles south of here. We can get help there." She took the reins of his horse and turned to the south.
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Abigail West had just finished folding the wash when she saw them coming down the road. "Jesse! Jesse!" She called to her husband. "Riders coming! One of them's been hurt. It looks like he's hurt real bad."
Jesse West came out of the cabin carrying his rifle. When he saw them, he cocked it and pointed it at Ann.
"My name is Ann Scott." She said. "I'm a doctor. This man has been seriously wounded. We need your help."
Jesse didn't move or lower his rifle. "There's a Brazero village about five miles from here. Just across the river. They got a doctor there."
"He can't go another five yards, let alone five miles."
For a long moment, Ann and Jesse stared at each other. Then, Ann dismounted. "He took that bullet saving my life. I'm not going to let him die." She began to loosen the lariat she had used to tie Roarke to his stallion when he lost consciousness. "You can either help me or you can shoot me. And if you're going to shoot me, you had better do it now."
"Put him in the barn." Jesse reluctantly said, lowering his gun. "That's good enough for the likes of his kind."
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Roarke lay face down on a blanket in one of the unused stalls. Ann had removed his jacket and shirt and was now pressing a towel against the wound in an effort to stop the bleeding. There was no exit wound. That meant that the bullet was still lodged in him. From the position of the wound, Ann guessed that the bullet was either in his spleen or his stomach. If by some miracle, it had missed these organs, it could be anywhere in his abdomen. Without x-rays to show its exact position, it would be like hunting the proverbial needle in a haystack.
Jesse sat on a box a few feet away, his gun cradled in his lap.
Abigail came in with fresh towels and some torn sheets for bandages. "How is he doing?" She asked as she sat her bundle beside the Doctor.
"The bleeding has slowed considerably, but it hasn't stopped. That means he's definitely bleeding internally. Unless the bullet is removed … and soon … I don't think he's going to make it through the night." She looked at Jesse. "Please. You have to go to my buggy and get my bag. Bring it to me as soon as possible."
Jesse made no motion to leave.
"And put down that gun. There's nothing either one of us can possibly do to harm you or your wife."
"He's a Brazero. That's reason enough to keep this gun on him. He's better off dead." Jesse said hatefully.
"Why do you hate Brazeros so much?"
"They killed my brother, that's why. Danny bought a piece of land down by the river a couple of years back. Paid for it all legal like. Don Miguel, he's the leader of that band of cutthroats from across the river, he said that the land was his and ordered my brother off it. Danny and I both tried to talk some sense into Don Miguel, but he wouldn't listen. About six months later, they found Danny and his wife and their nine month old baby. All of them were dead. They'd been gunned down in cold blood by Don Miguel and his men."
"You're positive it was Brazeros that killed them?"
"Who else could it be? When they found them, Danny had a piece of one of these in his hand." He picked up Roarke's shirt. "It was from a fancy shirt just like this one. That means it's from a Brazero shirt. Nobody on this side of the border wears anything like that. That's all the proof I need that the Brazeros did it. Been running them off every time I see one of them anywhere near here or Danny's farm."
"And so because you think a Brazero killed your brother, you're going to kill Roarke. He's not the one who killed Danny. In fact, I can guarantee that he wasn't anywhere near your brother's place when he was killed."
"I ain't gonna kill nobody. I didn't shoot your … friend. You said yourself, the Morgan brothers did that."
"But if you just sit there and let him die without doing anything to help him, you're just as guilty as they are."
"Jesse." Abigail said to her husband. "I know you have good reason to hate the Brazeros, but Roarke had nothing to do with your brother's death. You can't in good conscience let an innocent man die. You're not a murderer."
"Okay." Jesse put his rifle on the ground. "Let's get him in the house. Then I'll saddle a horse and get your stuff."
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On Ann's instructions, Jesse placed Roarke on the kitchen table. It would be much easier to treat him there than in the bedroom. She watched him closely as she gave Jesse directions to the wagon. "It's on the road to town. It shouldn't be hard to find. It's got a busted wheel and we had to leave it there. My bag is under the front seat."
The move from the barn to the house had roused Roarke, and he was semi conscious. If he were to move suddenly or struggle, the severe bleeding could start again. At that very moment, Ann's worst fears became reality. Roarke began to moan and started thrashing about. Suddenly, he began coughing. Hard. Fresh blood spurted from the wound.
"He's started bleeding again. Forget about the wagon. There isn't time. I've got to operate now or he'll be dead by morning. I'll just have to use whatever you've got here."
Jesse unsheathed a hunting knife. "It's as sharp as a razor. In fact, I've shaved with it a number of times."
Ann examined the knife. It would make a passable scalpel. Unfortunately, there were a number of other things she needed. Some of them hadn't even been invented yet.
Abigail opened her kitchen drawer. "Anything you can use from here?" She asked.
Ann examined the contents of the drawer. With a little improvising, she could use quite a few of the things. Forks would make excellent retractors. Clothespins would serve well as clamps and hemostats. Knitting needles made a first-rate substitute for probes. There were needles and thread for sutures as well. The drawer also held scissors, small towels for sponges, and cheesecloth that could be used in place of gauze.
"I've got a forge out back." Jesse said. "What you can't find, I'll make."
Ann quickly sketched the instruments and modifications she needed to the cutlery on a piece of wrapping paper and Jesse headed for the barn.
She checked Roarke again. He had calmed down and the bleeding had slowed once more. He opened his eyes and made a very weak attempt to roll over. Ann easily restrained him. "Don't try to move." She said as she eased him back onto his stomach. "You've been hurt very badly. With a lot of luck, though, everything will be all right."
She put her face close to his. "Roarke." She whispered. "I want to call off this fantasy. It's too dangerous. Stop it right now and let's get out of here."
"I cannot do that." He whispered hoarsely. "When the portal closed, the fantasy ended. What has happened … What is happening … is not a part of your fantasy. It is real."
"You don't seem to understand. If you start bleeding again, you could die right here. I don't know if I can do anything to save you. Please. I'm begging you. Stop the fantasy. Now!"
"I do not have the power to do that. It is all in your hands. You must believe that you can see it through. I believe in you. You must believe in yourself."
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Jesse came in carrying the tools that Ann has sketched for him. He had made them in record time. Less than an hour. They were crude, but they would do. They would have to do.
He was also carrying a jug. "I don't mind bragging, but they say that this is the best 'shine in the whole valley."
Ann uncorked the jug and took a whiff. If her nose was correct, the liquid in the jug was nearly pure grain alcohol. "Excellent." She said. "I can use it to sterilize the instruments."
"You can use boiling water to do that." Abigail said. She already had a pot on the stove and she was putting the instruments in it.
"That's right. I got something else in mind for this stuff." Jesse filled a large cup and held it to Roarke's mouth. "When I left, he looked like he was trying to come to. After a few swigs of this, he won't be feeling no pain. After a few cupfuls, he probably won't be feeling anything."
Roarke took a mouthful and forced himself to swallow. It was raw and strong and burned the entire length of his esophagus. He took another mouthful and swallowed that as well. Slowly a numbing warmth began to spread through him.
Jesse kept at him until Roarke had emptied the cup and then he refilled it and repeated the process. After a few minutes, the full effect of the whiskey had taken place. The world became fuzzy and Roarke's eyes drooped and finally closed. Ann lifted one eyelid. There was no reaction. His pupils were fixed and contracted. Roarke was out cold.
"Now, if he'll only stay that way until I've finished operating." She said.
"Judging from the amount of whiskey he drank, he won't be in any shape to be doing anything until sometime tomorrow." Jesse observed.
Abigail tied a large apron over Ann's dress. "No use getting that nice dress of yours all bloody if you can help it. It's clean. Just took it off the line as you were coming up the path."
Ann pulled her sleeves as far as she could above her elbows, and Abigail tied them out of the way with a strip of cloth. She went to the sink and began to scrub her hands and arms with a stiff brush and a bar of laundry soap. When she had finished, she handed the brush and the soap to Jesse.
"What's that for?" He asked.
"You need to scrub up too. You're going to be my assistant."
"Wait a minute!" He protested. "I admit, I've doctored the animals when they needed it, but people … ?" He shook his head.
"I can't do it alone. I need your help. All you have to do is exactly what I tell you to do and don't panic. Everything will be fine." If only she could convince herself of that.
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Ann's hands trembled ever so slightly as she approached the table. Abigail had taken the instruments out of the boiling water and placed them in a pan of whiskey. She took the knife out. She closed her eyes for a moment and whispered a fervent prayer. "Lord, Guide my hand. I'm an internist, not a surgeon. The last time I was in an operating room was during my internship. And that was to remove hemorrhoids." Carefully, she made an incision.
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It was well after midnight when she put the last of the sutures in place. The bullet had nicked the stomach and perforated several sections of small intestine, but it had not struck any vital organs or major nerves or blood vessels. If infection could be controlled, there was an excellent chance that Roarke would recover completely. If … that was the key word. If …
"I'll need several blankets. And a pillow." She said as she took the bloody apron off and handed it to Abigail. "He's starting to run a fever and if he chills, he could go into convulsions. That could kill him just as surely as the bullet. If it's all right with you, I'd like to leave him on the table until he regains consciousness. It'll be a lot easier treating him here than in the barn."
"No. It's not all right with me." Jesse said. Carefully he lifted Roarke and carried him into the bedroom. Gently, he put him on the bed. "He'll rest a lot easier here. Abigail and I can sleep in the barn. We've done it many times before. I'll stay with him while you two clean up the mess in the kitchen."
An hour later, Ann returned to the bedroom. She and Abigail had scrubbed the table and cleaned the instruments and washed the various cloths used in the operation. She put her hand on Roarke's head. It was burning hot. Fever had set in. Without being asked or told, Abigail brought a pan of cold water and several towels.
"Get some sleep." Ann told them. "You both have done so much to help us."
"What about you?" Abigail asked. "You're dead on your feet."
"There will be plenty of time for me to sleep when this is over."
Roarke was tossing fitfully. Ann dipped a cloth in the water and placed it on his forehead. "Personal contact may be a good thing, but right now, I'd give anything for about 50 cc's of Amoxicillin and some Demerol." She wiped her hands on one of the towels. "Please." She prayed. "Let him live."
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It was morning when Ann opened her eyes. She felt Roarke's head. It was warmer than it should be, but he was not in any danger. Without a thermometer, it was impossible to be accurate, but Ann guessed that it had peaked somewhere in the neighborhood of 103. The fever had broken around 4 AM. She was not certain when she had fallen asleep, but it could not have been that long ago. She remembered the sky was just beginning to lighten. She gently lifted one of Roarke's eyelids. His pupil adjusted to the light. His breathing was soft and slow. She put her ear to his chest. His heartbeat was strong and regular. He was asleep.
Abigail West came into the room with a steaming mug of coffee. "Good morning. I thought you could use this." She handed the mug to Ann.
"You're right. Nectar of the gods. Just what I need."
"I've got breakfast ready. We waited until we heard you were up and around. I'll stay with him while you eat."
"There's no need for that now. The fever broke during the night. He's sleeping peacefully now. Just give me a few minutes and I'll be out."
The kitchen table was fairly groaning with a hearty assortment of food. There were pancakes, bacon, sausage, potatoes, eggs, and several kinds of thick homemade bread. As they took their places, Ann remembered that she had not eaten since lunch the day before.
Jesse bowed his head. "Lord. We thank Thee for this food that we are about to eat. We thank Thee too, that Senor Roarke is alive and getting better. Oh. And Lord, I thank Thee for teaching me not to judge or condemn everybody by one or two person's actions. Amen."
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As they finished eating and were clearing the table, the front door burst open. Virgil and Clay Morgan stood silhouetted in the doorway.
"Where is he?" Clay demanded. The room fairly shook as he slammed the door shut.
"Where is who?" Jesse replied.
"You know who we're after." Virgil growled. "The Brazero. If the Doc is here, he's here, too."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Jesse said.
Clay grabbed him roughly and yanked him off his chair. "Don't give me that line of bull." He pushed his fist into Jesse's face.
"Never mind, Clay." Virgil said. "We can go lookin' for him later. From that trail of blood we been followin' he ain't gonna be goin' anywhere anytime soon." He walked to Ann and put his hand roughly against her cheek. "In the meantime, the good Doctor here still owes us for offerin' to help fix her wagon yesterday." He put his arms around her back and began unbuttoning her dress. "Might as well collect now."
"Why you two slimy little … " Jesse lunged for Virgil but Clay cuffed him solidly across the face with the side of his pistol. Jesse slumped to the floor holding his jaw.
"Gentlemen. Gentlemen. Is that any way for a guest to treat his host?" All eyes turned to the bedroom. Roarke leaned against the wall, a gun in his hand. Ann started toward him, but he raised his hand as a signal for her to stop.
Clay Morgan turned toward Roarke and started to bring his gun up. Roarke had already cocked his hammer. "That would be an extremely foolish thing to do. Now why don't you both put your guns on the table. Carefully."
Virgil and Clay did as Roarke said.
"Now the other one, please."
"What other one?" Virgil asked.
With his free hand, Roarke held his side. "I have positive proof that you have another gun. Either you will put it on the table voluntarily, or I shall take it from your lifeless body." He pointed his gun level with Virgil's head and cocked it again.
Virgil reached into the back of his jeans and placed the gun on the table with the others. "You know, Brazero, you've crossed me one too many times. Nobody does the things you did to us." He threatened. "And lives."
"Yeah." Clay affirmed. "You're a dead man. Just like that farmer down by the river."
"What farmer by the river?" Jesse asked.
"Shut up, Clay." Virgil hissed at his brother.
"Oh, no, Mr. Morgan. Please. Do continue." Roarke commanded. "I do believe that Mr. West will be most interested in what you have to say. Particularly since the farmer you mentioned happened to be his brother."
Beads of sweat started to form on Clay Morgan's face. "Look. We didn't mean to hurt no one. Not intentional anyway. Last year sometime, we thought we'd go across the river into Brazero territory. We'd done it a lot of times before with no problems. All we wanted to do was to have a little fun. How'd we know that this time, one of the senoritas was Don Miguel's daughter?
He found out what we was doin' and he and a bunch of the other townspeople came after us with guns, knives and pitchforks." Virgil continued. "We were lucky to get away with our skins in one piece. We had to steal horses and clothes to get out of town.
"All we wanted from that farmer … your brother … was a place to hide and some fresh horses. But no. He had to go and play hero." Clay picked up the tale.
"He attacked me and ripped off my shirt. I had no choice but to shoot him." Virgil confessed.
"And so you just shot him down in cold blood?" Jesse shouted, anger welling up in him. "He didn't even have a gun on him when he was found!"
"We didn't have time to argue with him." Clay explained. "The Brazeros were hot on our trail, and they would have killed us for what we did to their women. It was either us or him."
"And what about Lydia and the baby? Why'd you kill them?"
"Because they were there. That's why." Virgil smirked.
"Why you … you SCUM!" Jesse grabbed Virgil and threw him against the wall. Before the outlaw could recover, Jesse slammed his fist into his abdomen. As the hooligan doubled over, he jammed his foot into Virgil's groin. Groaning in pain, Virgil slumped to his knees.
Clay started toward his brother, but Roarke motioned him away. "What do you say, Mr. Morgan? Let's keep this a fair fight for a change."
The fight was a short one. And very one sided. Jesse released all of his pent up fury on the hapless man. Scant minutes later, Virgil lay nearly unconscious and bleeding on the kitchen floor. Jesse started toward Clay.
"That will be enough, Mr. West." Roarke said. "We will let the Sheriff handle it from here."
As if on cue, there was a pounding at the door. "Open up! This is Sheriff Hammond."
Abigail opened the door and the Sheriff and several deputies came into the room.
"I believe that the Morgan brothers have something that they wish to tell you, Sheriff. It concerns the murder of Dan West." Roarke said.
As the deputies led Clay and a groggy Virgil out, Ann helped Roarke to a chair.
"But I don't understand how you knew we needed help." Jesse asked the Sheriff.
"I brought them here." Tatoo stood in the doorway. He too was dressed as a Hispanic gentleman. He went to Roarke and the two gently embraced.
"Tatoo." Roarke said to his diminutive assistant. "If I was ever glad to see you, it is now. How did you get here? And I repeat the question. How did you know we needed help?"
"When you didn't return when you said you would, I began to worry. So I came here after you." Tatoo recounted. He intentionally omitted any reference to the portal. "I followed the road and found the broken buggy. Then I saw the blood. Somehow I knew it was your blood. I don't have to tell you I was very scared, Boss.
I started to follow the trail of blood, but it was getting very dark. I could barely make it out, so I decided to go to the town and I contacted the Sheriff. I told him what I had seen on the road. We started out early this morning and continued following your trail to here." He held something to Ann. "I thought you might need this." He grinned. It was a doctor's bag. It was not the one from the wagon. It was her own bag.
She took the bag and kissed him firmly. "Tatoo. I love you. You are a mind reader."
The small man blushed deeply.
Abigail and Jesse helped Roarke back to bed.
She waited until they had left the room, then Ann hunted through her bag and took out a hypodermic syringe and a vial. She filled the syringe and injected it into Roarke's arm. "That one is for pain." She said as she took out another vial and filled another hypo. "This one is a broad spectrum antibiotic to control infection." She filled a third syringe. "And this is a cortisone compound to speed healing."
"Wait a minute!" Roarke protested. "What am I? A patient or a pincushion?"
Ann took no apparent notice of his remark. She rummaged through her bag until she found a syringe that was commonly used for irrigation. It was about eight inches long and about an inch and a half in diameter. She held it where Roarke could plainly see it. "Now. Where did I put that big square needle?" She said in a loud stage whisper. "The dull one."
Roarke held his arm and drew back. "You wouldn't dare!" He gasped.
Ann stared at him and grinned menacingly. "Oh wouldn't I?" She waggled her eyebrows evilly. She turned to Tatoo. "I think he's getting better. He's starting to complain about the care."
Gently she eased Roarke to the pillow. "I'm only joking." She said. " … This time." She still held the irrigation syringe in plain sight. "But I strongly suggest that you lay there and get plenty of rest. You may be getting better, but you are a long way from being well." To punctuate her remarks, she forcefully thrust the plunger to the bottom of the syringe.
0-0-0-0-0-0
Three days later, Roarke lay on a thick bed of straw covered by blankets in the back of the West's wagon.
"Are you sure you should be doing this?" Jesse asked. "I may not be a doctor, but I do know that Roarke is not nearly well enough to travel."
"I am a doctor, and I agree with you." Ann replied. "If it were solely up to me, I wouldn't move him for at least another week or two. Unfortunately, we don't have too much of a choice in the matter. If we are to return to our home, we have to leave now."
"You never said exactly where you are from." Abigail said. "But somehow I have the feeling it isn't from anywhere around here." She handed Ann a basket. "There's some food and water in here. I think you'll be needing it if you have to go as far as I think you have to."
"Thank you." Ann said as she placed the basket in the bed of the wagon beside Roarke. "Let's just say that we are from a place that is far, far away." You'll never know how far.
"I don't suppose there's any chance you'll be getting back this way again, is there?" Jesse asked. "But if you ever do, there'll always be room for you here at our place."
"We will remember that, Mr. West … Jesse." Roarke smiled as he held out his hand. "I want to thank you for everything you have done for us."
Jesse took his hand and grasped it firmly with both of his. "No, Senor Roarke. I should be the one who is thanking you. You taught me a very valuable lesson. You taught me that just because a person is different from you, it doesn't mean that he is evil. Good and evil have nothing to do with how a person looks, or dresses, or talks. It has to do with what is in his heart.
I've sent a message to Don Miguel asking him for a meeting. I hope we can settle our differences in a peaceful way. Who knows? Maybe we might even become friends."
"Boss. It's time." Tatoo prompted. "Mr. West. You will find your wagon in a small canyon about ten miles northeast of here. We have other transportation waiting for us there."
There was another round of goodbyes and finally Tatoo headed the wagon toward the portal.
0-0-0-0-0-0
Tatoo reined the horses to a stop at the far end of the box canyon. Ahead of them was an opening in the rocks that corresponded to the one on Fantasy Island. Carefully, Ann helped Roarke out of the wagon. With her and Tatoo supporting him, they made their way to the portal.
0-0-0-0-0-0
As they emerged from the portal, Ann rested Roarke against a large bolder. Where there had been cactus and sagebrush a few minutes earlier, there were now palm trees, bougainvillea, and lush vegetation. "Back there, I had serious doubts whether we'd ever see this again." She sighed.
Roarke's car was still parked where he had left it. Ann placed her arm gently around his waist and slowly led him to it. "Come on. I want to get you back to the hospital as soon as possible."
Roarke looked at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "Why?"
"WHY?" Ann repeated. "Two days ago, I removed a bullet from your back. You lost a great deal of blood. You nearly died. You are still in very serious condition, and the likelihood of major complications is staggering. That's why!"
Roarke smiled and shook his head softly. "There is no wound." He said flatly.
"What are you talking about? You were shot and I'm the one who treated you. I know what I did."
"See for yourself." He lifted his shirt out of his trousers.
Ann carefully loosened the bandage around Roarke's waist. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped. Roarke was right. There was no wound. Not even a scar. Only a miniscule dimpling of the skin where the bullet had entered his back. And even that would not have been noticeable if Ann had not known where to look.
"What happened on the other side of the portal occurred over a hundred years ago." Roarke explained. "When we passed back through it, all traces of that time and place were removed." He pointed to her. "If you do not believe me, look at yourself."
Ann looked down. She could not believe her eyes. She was no longer dressed in a long cotton dress of that era. She was wearing gray tweed slacks under an ivory colored knit blouse and a navy blazer. It was the same outfit she had been wearing when she had entered the portal the week before. She ran her fingers through her hair. Even that was different. Instead of being long and piled on top of her head, it was now in her usual little boy cut. She looked at Roarke. He was now wearing his familiar white suit and black tie. Tatoo was no longer in costume either, but was also dressed in a white suit with a bow tie.
Roarke and Tatoo each took one of her hands, and the three of them started to the waiting car.
"Roarke." Ann said as they headed back toward the Main House. "What would have happened if I had gone through the portal when it first opened, like you told me to? Would you be here now, alive and well, or would you have died a hundred years ago, alone and unmourned. If I had not stayed with you, would you have made it to the portal, or would you now be buried in some long forgotten grave?"
Roarke smiled wistfully and gave her a gentle hug. "We shall never know." He whispered. "We shall never know."
0-0-0-0-0-0
The end?
Not on Fantasy Island.