This is a sequel to "Of Gods and Men." You will need to have read that for this story to make sense.
The Devil's Daughter
Part 1
Johnny plopped down contentedly on the gently-sloping grassy bank. He tilted his face up to the sun, drinking in the warmth. The extreme heat of summer had passed, giving way to the gentler weather of early fall. The leaves on the trees were changing color to rich reds and oranges before drifting silently to the earth.
He had missed this last year, being deep in Mexico within a hidden valley where no rain had fallen for two years. Everything there had been brown, withered and lifeless. For a few days he had been resigned to the fact that he would end his life there – a sacrifice to the old beliefs. An involuntary shudder shook him and he pushed those images away.
Reclining on one elbow he turned his attention to his brother. Scott was lying flat on his back, his hat resting on his face to shield it from the sun's rays. A smile touched Johnny's eyes and mouth. The events of twelve months ago had left a deep impression upon all three of the Lancer men. For a long time, Scott had brooded about what had happened, trying to make sense of it. Then, one day, it was as if he had closed a door on the memory and life had returned to normal.
Now, Johnny was convinced that his sibling was hiding something from him. Since returning from a trip to town earlier in the week, Scott had been looking mighty pleased with himself. In Johnny's experience, that look could only mean one thing. His brother had fallen for a girl. Unsubtle hints hadn't garnered any information, leaving the youngest Lancer almost bursting with curiosity.
"Hey, Scott. You awake?"
"No," his brother replied good-naturedly. "Go away."
"Murdoch won't be happy if he finds you slacking off," Johnny persisted.
"Murdoch's spending the day in Spanish Wells at that stock auction, so I don't think there's much risk of him finding out. Besides, I'm just resting my eyes."
"Come on, Scott. You know it ain't polite to keep secrets from your brother."
With an explosive sigh, Scott removed his hat and turned his head just enough to stare balefully at Johnny. "What secrets?" he enquired.
"You've been wanderin' around with a puppy dog look on your face for the last two days. Who is she, Brother?"
"I have not," Scott protested, but Johnny didn't miss the slight flush the appeared on his cheeks. "Besides, you're jumping to conclusions." Scott stood up, brushing dust and blades of grass from the back of his trousers. "If you're not going to let me sleep, we might as well get back to work."
Several hours, and a dozen stray cattle later, Johnny was still no closer to finding out what was going on. "I thought I might go into town tonight."
"Uh huh."
"Want to come with me?" Johnny asked innocently. "You might see your girl – whoever she is."
"Damn, you're persistent," Scott responded without rancour. "I don't know why you're so interested."
"Don't like secrets." Johnny grinned. "So, who is she?"
Scott conceded defeat with a resigned sigh. "You can meet her on Saturday. I'm taking her to the dance in town."
The reply suggested to Johnny that this mysterious woman was new in town, and that intrigued him even further. "What's her name?"
"Her name?" Scott looked puzzled. "I…I don't know."
"You asked her to the dance and didn't bother to find out what she's called? What happened to all them fancy manners of yours?"
"I haven't…" Scott swayed slightly in his saddle, an unfocused look settling on his face.
"Whoa, Brother, are you feeling alright?" Johnny put out a hand to steady the blond.
Scott straightened, his expression clearing. "I'm fine. Do you think you could finish up without me? I have a lovely young lady to visit."
"I don't know, Scott." Johnny looked at the position of the sun. "We've a lot of ground to cover and…" A sharp pain in his stomach caused him to hunch over in the saddle, gasping for breath. The pain pulsed and grew to a crescendo before disappearing as abruptly as it had started.
"I'll be home in time for supper," Scott continued, giving no sign of having witnessed his brother's momentary agony.
Johnny frowned deeply as he watched his brother ride off. The griping in his stomach had been unexpected, but not as unexpected as having his brother ignore the fact that he was obviously in pain. Scott wasn't acting normally and it bothered him. His usual preference was to avoid any form of organized entertainment, but nothing was going to keep him from the dance on Saturday. Something was going on, and he was determined to find out what it was.
LLLLL
Johnny finished harnessing the matched pair of horses to the buggy. Teresa had been pleased and curious when he suggested accompanying her to the dance. His father had given him a very odd look as well, before making some remark about it being time he took a more active part in local events. Being unable to explain why he felt so strongly about keeping an eye on his brother, he had just nodded meekly and made his escape. Scott had already left, smiling vaguely at Johnny's teasing about being 'all fancied up.'
He leapt up to take the reins and drive the buggy round to the front of the house. The pulse of pain came and went so quickly that he wondered if he had imagined it. He was often scolded by his family and Maria for bolting his food, and wondered if his stomach was finally rebelling against his love of spicy dishes and an unseemly haste when eating them. The only thing was that the pain hadn't seemed that localized, not like the incident the other day. Maybe he was coming down with something. The thought of telling anyone, and then being fussed over, wasn't appealing. Teresa and Jelly between them would come up with the most atrocious concoctions for him to drink, Maria would treat him like a child and his father would no doubt send for Sam. All things considered he decided the best course of action was to ignore the problem. He felt better having settled that in his own mind and slapped the reins on the horses' backs to set them moving.
Teresa was waiting by the front door, almost bouncing up and down with excitement. Her enthusiasm brought a genuine smile to his face. He felt a little guilty at having used Teresa to spy on his brother and resolved to ensure that she had an enjoyable evening. If he was lucky, one of the local boys would take her off his hands – if not, he would just have to be her gallant escort for the evening.
A cold gust of wind caught him by surprise and he shivered. He jumped down and strolled over to Teresa. "Can you wait a minute while I fetch my jacket?" he asked.
"Don't take too long. The dance will be starting soon."
"I'll be right back," he assured her.
His short black jacket was hanging tidily in his wardrobe. He ran a hand over the red silk lining, enjoying the sensuous feel of the material. The jacket and matching trousers had been a gift from his father at Christmas. Having spent so long being poor, wandering from town to town owning not much more than the clothes on his back, he delighted in beautiful things. The combination of soft leather and silk, and the memory of the pleased expression on his father's face when the gift had been so enthusiastically received, never failed to make Johnny smile.
He had intended to go straight back downstairs. Instead, he found himself falling to his knees by his bed and pulling out a small chest. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for and he didn't question the impulse that made him slip the slender gold chain over his head. He tucked it carefully under his shirt, feeling more at ease now that he had it nestling against his chest. Whistling cheerfully, he stood up and left the room.
LLLLL
It didn't take long for Johnny to spot his brother, once he and Teresa arrived at the large barn just outside of town. Normally, according to Teresa, the dances were held in the church hall. An unexplained fire just over a week previously had caused superficial damage to the building, rendering it unusable until the townsfolk had time to repair it.
Scott was standing in a corner, with his back to the room. He had one arm outstretched, his hand resting against the wall and his head dipped down as if he was listening to someone. Johnny handed Teresa a glass of fruit punch and saw her to a chair by a group of her friends. The young women all acknowledged him with appraising looks that made him feel decidedly embarrassed. He bestowed his brightest smile on them and prepared to move off.
One of the older girls, Millie Carter, pouted at him. "I thought your brother was a gentleman."
Johnny raised an eyebrow. "That's what he keeps tellin' me." He knew that Scott had escorted Millie to a few of the local gatherings lately, although his brother had assured him that the relationship wasn't serious and that he was a long way from being ready to be corralled by any young woman. From the look Millie was directing at Scott's back, it appeared that she might have had a rather different view of their relationship. "What's brother Scott done to get you all riled up?"
Millie looked at her friends then stood up and took Johnny's arm, steering him away from their eager stares. "He invited me to this dance, then called by this morning to say that he was taking someone else," she hissed, coloring with mortification.
"That ain't like Scott. D'you want me to speak to him?"
"Oh no. It's humiliating enough, without him knowing I spoke to you."
"Yeah, I guess it is." Johnny continued to stare at his brother as Millie left him. It wasn't at all like Scott to embarrass a young woman. His eastern charm had ensured him more than his fair share of female attention in the eighteen months since his arrival in California. He had an easy way with women and managed to remain on good terms with them even after a relationship had run its course.
He slowly made his way through the crowd, distractedly acknowledging greetings from friends and neighbors. As he got closer Scott turned, smiling warmly as he saw his brother approaching.
"Johnny, I was hoping you would be here."
"Scott. Is everything alright?" Johnny felt a prickle of unease which reached a screaming pitch as a woman stepped out from his brother's shadow. His right hand moved, not toward his gun, but toward his chest. The crucifix that he had impulsively donned earlier burned hot against his skin.
She was undeniably beautiful, and that beauty both attracted and repelled Johnny. Her long black hair hung loose around her shoulders, catching the light from the lamps and smothering it in the inky blackness. Her slender body was encased in a gown of pale pink silk, cut daringly low at the bodice. Johnny swallowed hard and tore his eyes away from the enticing cleavage. A smile curled her mouth upwards, and Johnny found himself imagining what it would be like to kiss those lips. Then, he looked into her eyes and took a step back.
Heart pounding, he searched his brother's face for some sign that Scott was aware of the power residing in this woman. Scott's smile hadn't wavered, yet Johnny sensed a coolness directed toward him. Scott put his arm round her waist, pulling her closer, in an almost challenging manner.
"Who's your friend, Scott?" Johnny broke the uncomfortable silence.
Scott turned to the woman. "Isabelle, this is my brother, Johnny."
She held out her hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Johnny. Scott has told me a lot about you."
He hesitated, licking his lips, until he saw Scott's smile turning into a frown. He took her hand and felt an unpleasant jolt run up his arm. He pulled away as her smile broadened into a look of pure malicious pleasure. "Ma'am," he touched a finger to the brim of his hat in acknowledgment. "I don't wish to be rude, but I need a word with Scott."
"Can't it wait?" Scott bent his head and brushed a light kiss on Isabelle's bare shoulder. "I'm a little busy."
"No, it can't wait." Johnny grabbed his brother's arm and tugged. "Now, Scott."
Scott's mouth was set in a hard line as he turned his attention back to the woman by his side. "I apologize for my brother's lack of manners. Will you wait for me? I won't be long."
"You have no idea how long I've waited for you, Scott Lancer," she purred, smiling up at him.
Scott took her hand and carried it to his lips, kissing first the back and then the palm. Johnny looked away, embarrassed and unsettled.
"Let's get some air," he suggested. "I never did like crowds much."
Once they were outside, Scott leaned against the wall of the barn and folded his arms across his chest. "What was so important that it couldn't wait?"
Johnny paced back and forth a few times, finally coming to a halt a few feet away from his brother. He kept his head down and scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt. "What do you know about this woman?"
"What's that got to do with you?" The question was sharp and unfriendly. "I don't have to answer to you when I decide to ask a lady out."
"No – no, you don't," Johnny conceded. "Only you don't seem to be quite yourself and I was worried."
"I appreciate the concern, but I don't need the likes of you watching out for me."
Johnny felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Scott began, then he stopped and frowned. "I don't know what it means. I'm sorry, Johnny. I don't know what made me say that."
"I guess you were just sore that I'd dragged you away from your girl."
"Yes, that must be it." Scott didn't look convinced. "I should get back inside."
"I was talking with Millie earlier. It's not like you to drop a girl like that."
"Millie?" Scott sneered. "Well, Brother, I wasn't going to pass up a better offer."
The unexpected callousness of Scott's words shocked Johnny. "That's a mite cruel, ain't it?"
"Sometimes the truth is cruel."
"Be careful, Scott. I'd say this woman's bewitched you." Johnny made the remark lightly and was completely unprepared for the change that came over his brother.
Scott grabbed him by the front of the shirt, swung him round and pinned him up against the wall of the barn. "You mind what you say about her, boy," the blond snarled.
"Hey, lighten up. I didn't mean any offense." Johnny raised his hands to push his brother away.
The rough handling had caused the crucifix to edge out from under his shirt. Scott caught it and held it cupped in his hand. "It's a little late to be wearing this, don't you think?" he asked spitefully, before tugging sharply on the chain.
Johnny hissed as the chain parted. The sudden blast of pain in his chest made his legs collapse from under him and left him dangling in his brother's firm grip.
"Don't interfere, Johnny," Scott warned, releasing his hold and allowing him to slide to the ground.
As Johnny's vision darkened he saw Scott hurl the crucifix into the brush at the edge of the road. He couldn't catch his breath and his plea for help was lost in the darkness as Scott strode away from him.
LLLLL
When Johnny opened his eyes the next morning he was lying in his own bed. The angle of the sun streaming in through his windows indicated that he had slept late.
He lay still, hoping that the events of the previous evening had just been a horrible nightmare. Unfortunately, he knew better than that. The light was hurting his eyes and he turned away with a groan. He didn't remember returning home much less making it as far as his own room. He sat up slowly and carefully and lifted the covers. His suspicions were confirmed. Someone had undressed him and put him to bed. Being a man who had an almost paranoid fear of being vulnerable, that thought made him feel sick.
A sour odor assaulted his senses. It took a minute to identify it as cheap whiskey, and to recognize that the smell was coming from him. As fragments of memory coalesced, he realized that he did feel sick and that he was exhibiting all the symptoms of a raging hangover.
He remembered the pain that had felled him and Scott abandoning him. His stomach knotted and his throat filled with bile as he felt once again his stunned disbelief. As he'd tried to crawl back to the dance, rough hands had grabbed him, dragging him away from the barn and into the darkness. He hadn't been able to see their faces and had been in too much pain to call for help. He'd been forced to drink, the raw liquor splashing over his hands and clothes as he tried to resist. No words had been spoken and the men had worked with ruthless efficiency. Finally, the hands had left him alone and he'd sunk gratefully into oblivion.
He fell back against the pillows and waited for his head to stop spinning. He'd been well and truly set-up. He couldn't explain where the pain had come from, or why someone would do this to him. If it was some kind of joke he sure wasn't appreciating it. He shuddered as he saw in his mind Isabelle's gloating face. Why would a woman he had never met before be trying to turn his brother against him? He'd been joking when he made that remark about her bewitching Scott – now, ridiculous as it seemed, he wasn't so sure.
It took time to get out of bed. He washed up as best he could using the cold water in the bowl on his dresser. After pulling on clean clothes, he gulped down two glasses of water and looked around for his gun. It hadn't done him any good last night. One of the men had held him down while the other poured the whiskey into his mouth. They hadn't eased up, even when he'd been convinced he was going to drown. In the end reflex had made him swallow and today his throat felt bruised and sore.
His rig was no where in sight. Whoever had tended to him last night must have left it downstairs. A feeling close to panic bubbled to the surface. He left his room and made his way down to the great room. It was Sunday morning and his father should be at church. Should be…but wasn't. As Johnny propped himself up against the door frame, Murdoch lowered the paper he had been reading and glanced in his direction.
"Good morning."
Johnny knew he wasn't imagining the chill in his father's voice. "Morning," he mumbled. "Thought you'd be at church."
"I would have been, except that I thought I had more important matters to attend to here."
"Meaning?" Johnny queried, heading slowly for the comfort of one of the sofas. He groaned faintly as he sank into the soft cushions.
"Meaning you, Brother." Scott strolled into the room carrying a cup of coffee and perched on the edge of the desk.
He looked faintly amused, causing Johnny's temper to snap. "How about that little matter of you walkin' away from me last night, when I was sick?"
A genuinely puzzled look crossed Scott's face. "I didn't walk away from you. When Joe came to tell me you were blind drunk I brought you home."
"Joe? From the saloon?"
"I suppose it isn't surprising that you can't remember, given the state you were in," Murdoch snapped. "What on earth possessed you to embarrass yourself – and us – like that? Can you imagine how Teresa felt? You abandoned her at that dance and then had to be brought home in the back of a wagon."
"It wasn't like that," Johnny protested. "Tell him, Scott."
"I'm sorry, Johnny, but I couldn't cover for you this time."
"This time?" Johnny's voice rose as the implication of his brother's words sank in. "Just what the hell are you trying to say, Brother?"
"Johnny, please lower your voice. Scott was worried about you. You can't blame him for telling me about your drinking. I don't know why I didn't see the signs earlier…"
"Because there ain't no signs," Johnny snarled back. "I don't know what's going on, but I ain't got a problem with drink."
Murdoch sighed and exchanged concerned glances with his older son. "It's only natural to deny the problem. Perhaps, if you told me what was on your mind, I might be able to help."
Johnny's thoughts were too confused to allow him to articulate them in front of his father and brother. They'd think he was crazy. He detected no malice in his brother. Scott really didn't seem to remember what had happened. He lowered his eyes. "Ain't nothing on my mind and it won't happen again."
"Very well, but you do owe Teresa an apology," Murdoch told him sternly.
Johnny felt claustrophobic. He needed to get out into the fresh air and think. He absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck, wincing as his fingers touched a bruise. His heart thudded painfully as he remembered Scott tearing the crucifix from him and tossing it aside. He had to go and find it. Standing up he announced, "I'm going for a ride."
Scott straightened up. "Would you like some company?"
"Not from you." The minute he said it, he regretted the words. "Sorry, Scott. I don't think I'm fit company for anyone right now."
"Make sure you're back in good time for supper. Scott's young lady is joining us." There was no warmth in Murdoch's voice and the order was clearly not intended for debate.
"Sure, Murdoch. I wouldn't want to miss that." Johnny saw his father's head shoot up and he was fixed with a forbidding stare. He stared right back until Murdoch chose to acknowledge the words, rather than the tone, with a sharp nod of his head. Johnny gave a sigh of relief and headed for the hat rack by the front door to retrieve his gun.
LLLLL
The ride into town helped clear Johnny's head. He refused to believe that Scott had willingly turned on him. There had been a sad honesty about his brother this morning – a marked contrast to the spitefully vicious way he had acted the previous evening. Johnny resolved to find his crucifix before going to the saloon to confront Joe. The bartender must know that he hadn't been in there getting drunk. The men who had attacked him must have left him there after he passed out. If he could get a description of them he could find them. Then – he smiled grimly and rested his hand on his gun – he could force the truth out of them.
He reached the barn where the dance had been held and ground tied Barranca. The horse was skittish and he took time to calm the animal down. His own senses were on high alert, although he couldn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary.
He headed for the area of undergrowth where Scott had thrown the cross and knelt down, parting the scrubby bushes. The crucifix had belonged to his mother. She had always worn it, not that it had protected her. He sat back on his heels, wondering where that thought had come from. Sure, he had railed against God when she died, but as he had grown he had accepted that she had died because of the drunken cruelty of a man. It was a human, rather than a divine act, which had caused her death.
The night she died he had made a deal with the Devil; at least that's what his ten year old mind had believed. He'd accepted that idea for so long, finally laying it to rest last year. If the Devil had owned his soul, he'd have died on an Aztec altar, his heart torn from his body by his own brother.
Although he had taken the crucifix from around his dead mother's neck, he had never worn it…not until last night. For years, he had felt that he didn't have the right. Recently he had felt that it wasn't necessary as he had his father and brother to look out for him.
Time passed and his search became more desperate, until his scrabbling fingers closed over the cold metal. He raised it up, brushing off the dirt and noting the broken chain. When he got home he'd apologize to Teresa and see if she could let him have a replacement. He wouldn't feel settled until he was wearing it again.
Barranca whinnied in fright and a shadow blotted out the sun. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
The melodious voice sent chills through his body and he reached for his gun. A blast of pain behind the eyes made him cry out. Raising his hands to his throbbing pain he squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. He felt his gun being lifted out of his holster before the pain disappeared.
"Now we can have a civilized conversation without me having to worry about being shot." Isabelle smiled sweetly as Johnny looked up, squinting against the bright sunlight.
He pushed himself to his feet and tucked the cross in his pocket, feeling faint warmth radiating from it. "Don't reckon I've got anything to say to you," Johnny hesitated for a second, before producing his brightest smile and adding, "yet."
He could tell that two men were standing behind her and tried to focus on their faces. He frowned, unable to get a clear look at them. It was like looking at something through thick glass, the shape was there, but the details were blurred.
"That is such a shame," Isabelle continued placidly. "We have so much in common."
"We have nothing in common," Johnny snapped. "How about you give me my gun back and let me get on with my business?"
"In a minute," she replied. "I want to talk to you first. Your brother is an interesting man, handsome, well educated. I can't imagine why he cares about you so much."
The comment stung, not least because Johnny had sometimes wondered the same thing himself. "Is there a point to this?"
"That's very much the point. You are his weakness and I am very good at exploiting weaknesses."
Furious, Johnny took a step forward. "I don't know what game you're playing and I ain't gonna stand around and wait to find out. You leave my family alone."
"Oh, it's far too late for that. If I leave, Scott will come after me. There's nothing you can do about it. Soon, I will have what I came for."
"What do you want?"
She drifted closer to him and reached up to kiss him on the cheek, laughing as he recoiled from her touch. "Wouldn't you like to know?" She turned her back on him and began to walk away. "You can give him his gun back now," she called to her men and Johnny heard the thud as his Colt landed in the dirt. "I'll see you later. I am looking forward to meeting your father and Teresa." The words floated back to him on the breeze and then she was gone.
LLLLL
Johnny was in a foul mood when he arrived at the saloon. His black brows were drawn down in a forbidding scowl, while his steps from the hitching rail to the doors were reminiscent of the prowl of a hunting cat. He stopped at the batwing doors and looked around. When he caught the eye of the bartender he saw the man visibly pale.
"J…Johnny," Joe stammered. "I hope you ain't looking for any trouble."
"Now, why would I be looking for trouble?" Johnny drawled, pushing his hat back so that his piercing blue eyes were visible. "Just want to ask you some questions, is all."
"Sure. Can I get you a drink?"
"Nope. Reckon I had enough to drink last night." Johnny watched Joe closely to gauge his reaction.
The bartender's hands were shaking as he picked up a towel and began wiping the counter. He seemed unable to look Johnny in the eye. "I'm sorry 'bout tattling to Scott, only you were in a bad way. I was only bein' neighborly. And I ain't said nothin' to him before."
"Before?" Johnny asked softly.
"I kept quiet like you asked." A bead of sweat ran down Joe's face.
"What are you talking about? I ain't never asked you to keep quiet about anything."
"If you say so, Johnny," Joe agreed doubtfully.
Johnny reined in his frustration. "Just tell me what happened last night," he asked patiently.
"You came in about eight o'clock, bought a bottle of your usual whiskey and sat in that corner over there and drank it."
Johnny leaned over the bar and grabbed the startled man by the shirt, pulling him over to face him. "That's a downright lie. How much is she paying you?"
"W…who?"
Johnny took in the man's clear confusion and pushed him away. "Never mind. I'll have that drink now."
A bottle of whiskey was hurriedly placed in front of him. "What's that? I don't drink that rotgut. Get me a beer."
He carried the glass over to his usual table where he could sit with his back to the wall and watch the comings and goings. He sipped thoughtfully. It appeared that there was a conspiracy underway to discredit him, which meant that someone was worried about what he might find out. If Isabelle wasn't behind it, she was certainly working for whoever was in charge. What did they want with Scott? And what had she meant when she described him as his brother's weakness? The effort to think was exhausting him. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting shut. His mind screamed at him that it wasn't safe to sleep in such a public place. He fought to no avail to lift tired eyelids and gently slipped into a deep sleep.
LLLLL
The empty chair opposite him taunted Scott. On any normal Sunday, his brother would be sitting there, eating enthusiastically and entertaining them with his quick wit and good humor. There had been nothing good humored about Johnny when he had walked out that morning, but Scott hadn't believed for a second that his brother would disobey Murdoch's direct order to be present for dinner. He knew that Johnny was angry with him, and he hated the feeling that he had let his brother down. He was also disappointed. He wanted Johnny to be happy for him and to get to know the incredible woman who he could already imagine as his wife.
He glanced down the table at his father. Murdoch was doing his best to be a polite host, but every time his father looked at the empty chair his expression turned thunderous. His hand crept under the table, unseen by his father and Teresa, and he caught Isabelle's hand, squeezing it proprietarily. She turned her dazzling smile in his direction and he felt himself falling even further under her spell. She had made an immediate favorable impression upon both Murdoch and Teresa. Scott hadn't doubted that she would and, once again, gave silent thanks for his good fortune.
As he clung onto her hand, he began to feel the first stirrings of anger at his brother. What right did Johnny have to spoil his happiness like this? It wasn't his fault that his sibling was drinking himself into oblivion. It was probably the only way the gunfighter could live with his conscience, and the memory of all the men he'd killed. It was pure selfishness to make his family suffer for his misdeeds. Perhaps he should speak to his father, get Johnny sent away. It had been a mistake for Murdoch to welcome his younger son back in the first place. It would have been best if Johnny had died in front of that firing squad…
Scott released Isabelle's hand, lifted his glass and almost choked as he saw the deep red wine swirling round in front of his eyes. His mind filled with the picture of Johnny's lifeless body lying in the dirt, blood covering his chest and forming a crimson pool in the dust. Deep blue eyes stared at him reproachfully as he slammed the glass back onto the table, the liquid teetering on the brink of spilling over the top and staining the pristine white tablecloth.
"Is something wrong, Scott?"
Isabelle looked at him with loving concern and her hand found its way to his leg, where it rested, calming his shattered nerves. The unpalatable vision drained out of his mind as he watched her mouth moving, before giving way to the impulse to kiss her. The kiss, inappropriate at the dinner table, lasted a long time. She responded enthusiastically and he felt his blood begin to race. When he looked up again, he saw an approving smile on his father's face.
"Perhaps you two young people would like to be alone?" Murdoch suggested, with a knowing wink.
Scott felt his heart beating faster and an insistent tingling in his loins as he imagined making love to the dark-haired beauty. Standing eagerly, he offered Isabelle his hand. She was reaching out to him when the front door opened.
LLLLL
Johnny knew he was in trouble. He'd opened his eyes to find that it was dark and that the saloon was full of men enjoying a drink before wending their way home. A stream of curses left his lips as he shouldered his way through the crowd, mounted Barranca and shot out of town.
Now, he stepped into the room, spurs jingling, and removed his hat. He'd been prepared for Murdoch's wrath, well deserved on this occasion even if his lapse in manners had been unintentional. He wasn't prepared for the look on his brother's face as Scott turned around. The expression of pure unadulterated lust brought him to a standstill, his mouth hanging open. As Scott moved purposefully toward him he got his first look at Isabelle. Waves of venomous hatred poured off her and her eyes burned with green fire.
"What are you doing here?" Scott demanded, standing so close that Johnny could see his dilated pupils and flushed skin.
"Back off, Scott," Johnny warned.
"Why? So that you can make a move on my woman?"
"Trust me, Brother, that ain't gonna happen. And since when has she been your woman? You've only known her for a few days."
Scott's heavy breathing lessened and some of his belligerence leeched away. "She's…she's important to me, Johnny." His words held a hint of uncertainty.
"Scott," Isabelle purred from behind him, gently touching his arm. "Your brother is only jealous of what we have. You aren't going to let him come between us, are you?"
Johnny felt his opening slipping away. "It's not like that," he began defensively. A hand landed on his shoulder and he was wrenched round to face his father.
"I told you to be home in time for dinner," Murdoch roared furiously. "How dare you ignore my order?"
Johnny watched in stunned horror as his father drew back his arm. He made no effort to evade the blow which rocked him backwards. Raising shaky fingers to his cheek he felt heat invade his face. "Don't ever do that again."
"I should take a belt to you," Murdoch raged, seemingly oblivious to the ice in Johnny's eyes. "You're not too old to have some manners beaten into you."
Johnny stood rigid with disbelief. "Better men than you have tried." Rather than anger, Johnny felt a searing pain. So many men had hurt him when he was a child, helpless to defend himself. He'd never expected Murdoch to follow that same path. His father had never hit him before or threatened violence. What was happening to his family?
Scott stood with his arms folded across his chest, making no protest. Isabelle's beautiful, cold face expressed only satisfaction. He forgot about his father as he stared at her, unable to look away. Dios, he wanted her - wanted to wrap his fingers in her long black hair and…His eyes turned to Teresa sitting demurely at the table as if nothing was happening. Suddenly, the thought of touching Isabelle made him feel ill. He dropped to his knees, retching and heaving, shaking convulsively.
"Johnny!"
"Leave him, Scott. He's being punished for all the bad things he's done in his life. It is just a foretaste of what is waiting for him. He deserves to be punished, doesn't he?"
Isabelle's voice insinuated itself into his mind and Johnny found himself contending with a procession of images, gruesome and unsettling. The last time this had happened he had been in Mexico, a prisoner of the black priest, and he had been alone. The crucifix tumbled out of his pocket and Isabelle hissed like a startled cat. He looked up pleadingly. "Scott – help me."
LLLLL
A myriad of conflicting emotions warred within Scott. He could feel Isabelle, pressed against his side, hot and alluring. His body responded and he groaned softly. Then, he looked down at his brother writhing in agony on the floor and he knew where his priorities lay. He gently disentangled Isabelle's hand from his arm and knelt beside Johnny. "I'm here, Brother. I'll help you to your room and then I'll fetch Sam." He brushed sweat soaked dark hair out of Johnny's eyes. "Where's the pain?"
"Everywhere," Johnny panted in a strangled voice.
"Scott, what are you doing? He hasn't shown you any consideration, so why are you helping him?"
Scott turned his puzzled gaze to Isabelle, disconcerted by her unfeeling attitude. "He's my brother and he needs my help." He looked over at his father, who was standing watching and making no move to assist. "Murdoch, can you give me a hand? Teresa, could you go ahead and turn down Johnny's bed?"
As if a spell had been broken, Murdoch and Teresa began to move, exclaiming in concern. With his father's assistance, Scott managed to half carry his brother to his room. Shutting Teresa and Isabelle out, he helped Johnny to undress and get into bed. Johnny had his knees drawn up to his chest, panting as waves of pain surged through him. Finally, he gave a sharp gasp and collapsed into unconsciousness.
"I'm going to fetch Sam." Scott rose hastily to his feet.
"Hurry," Murdoch urged.
Scott reached the great room and smiled apologetically at Isabelle. "I'll hitch up the buggy and take you home on my way to Sam's."
With easy and natural grace she rose from her chair. "You'll make better time on horseback and I'm sure the doctor won't mind taking me home when he's finished here. Besides, I'd like to sit with Johnny for a while – to make up for my rather callous attitude earlier."
"I'm sure he'll appreciate your concern." Scott looked adoringly at her. "Make yourself at home. I'll be back as soon as I can."
LLLLL
Isabelle sat in the chair by Johnny's bedside and examined her nails. They were long and tapered to a sharp point, perfect for ripping into flesh. She ran one nail down the unconscious man's arm, drawing a thin line of blood, and then she licked her finger distractedly. It had looked as if it was going to be so easy to ensnare Scott. He'd fallen for her charms, just as she'd expected, and had turned so satisfyingly on his brother at the dance. It was all going to be so simple to complete her mission - to make Johnny Madrid Lancer suffer and to take from Scott Lancer his most precious possession – his soul.
She had made her own pact with the Devil many years ago, an eternity of servitude in return for youth, beauty and the ability to attract any man who caught her eye. Her surrogate father came to her in dreams, calling her his 'most beloved daughter.' She had never failed him and did not intend to do so now.
Scott would surrender his soul willingly, either through love of her or to save his brother further torment. It was rare for a man to go against her wishes. Most were easily swayed, and she looked forward eagerly to meeting the challenge with Scott. And he was a handsome man. She didn't have to pretend to be attracted to him. The thought of their final consummation sent thrills coursing through her body. But that was for later. She had only been playing with him this evening. The time was not yet at hand.
Johnny moaned and stirred, opening pain dulled blue eyes. Leaning forward, she brushed a kiss on his forehead, knowing how much the contact would hurt. Her laugh was malicious as she saw him bite his lip to prevent the agonized cry that was bubbling up in his throat.
"Can you imagine what it will be like to suffer such pain for eternity?" She sat back, satisfied that he would not be able to move until she gave him leave. "You should have died last year," she continued. "My father was not pleased. The Priest failed him. I will not make the same mistake."
"Your father?" The question came through gritted teeth.
"You know who he is. You belong to him, and soon he will own your brother as well. Scott Lancer shouldn't have interfered." Her voice turned hard. "If he had fulfilled his appointed role, his soul would already have been forfeited."
Johnny couldn't hold back the memory. Bound and helpless on an Aztec altar, he had watched Scott raise the ceremonial knife ready to plunge it into his chest. Only, Scott had resisted the evil spell laid upon him, turning the knife instead on the monster responsible for almost destroying an entire valley. "My brother's a good man."
"Yes, he is which is what makes this all the more satisfying." Her voice was as sweet as molasses.
"Murdoch!"
Johnny's voice was stronger than she had anticipated and she hurriedly pressed her hand over his lips. "He won't believe you, and neither will Scott." She stared deeply into his eyes. "Do you want me, Johnny? Your brother does. Have you thought about what it would be like?" She removed her hand and bent her head. As her lips touched his she released him from his paralysis and his arms surrounded her, pulling her hard against him. He returned her kiss with a desperate fervor as she moulded her body to his.
Suddenly, he pulled away. "You're just like a bitch on heat," he said harshly, shoving her from him so that she tumbled from the bed to the floor.
She scrambled to her knees. "You'll pay for that."
LLLLL
Scott arrived back at the house ahead of the doctor. As soon as he opened the front door, he heard Johnny's tortured screams. He took the stairs two at a time, hurtling toward his brother's room. When he opened the door, the noise ceased and he saw Isabelle solicitously rearranging the bedclothes.
"He was having a nightmare," she told him softly. "It's over now and he's asleep."
Gratitude welled up in Scott. Isabelle was as caring as she was beautiful. He took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. "I love you," he murmured huskily into her ear when the kiss had ended. "I want to be with you forever."
"Are you willing to bind yourself to me, Scott? To merge your soul with mine?"
"NO!"
The cry came from the bed and Scott turned hastily to look at his brother. There was fear in Johnny's eyes as he tried to sit up. "Promise me, Scott."
"Promise what?"
"Not her…please, Brother, not her." Johnny sank back, hollow eyed with exhaustion.
"I don't understand what you have against Isabelle, and now certainly isn't the right time for this discussion," Scott replied icily. "Sam will be here soon."
"Not sick. Get her out of here and I'll be fine."
"You can both leave while I examine my patient," Sam's distinctive voice floated over to them from the doorway.
As Scott ushered Isabelle from the room, Sam put his bag on the table and looked enquiringly at Johnny. "Well, young man, what seems to be the problem?"
LLLLL
Half an hour later, Sam joined the Lancers in the great room. Scott released Isabelle's hand and stood to pour the doctor a cup of coffee. "How is he?"
"I couldn't find anything wrong with him. He's exhausted and he was babbling some nonsense about the Devil, but apart from that, he seems perfectly healthy."
"I don't understand. He was in severe pain when I left to fetch you."
"Well, whatever was causing the pain has disappeared. He's sleeping now and I don't see any reason why he shouldn't be his normal self in the morning."
"I'm sorry to have wasted your time," Scott said contritely. "Do you really think he'll be alright? He's been acting very strange lately. He doesn't seem to be quite himself."
"I did hear in town that he's been drinking heavily. That could be having an effect on him. Keep an eye on him and let me know if he exhibits any more unusual symptoms."
"We will, Sam," Murdoch assured him. "I'll see you out to your buggy."
"And I believe I have a delightful travelling companion this evening."
Isabelle blushed and lowered her eyes. "If you're sure it won't be any trouble?"
"No trouble at all, my dear. In fact, it was worth the trip out here just to have your company on the way back to town."
Scott held her back as his father and Sam left the room. He pulled her into his arms, bending his blond head to kiss her neck. His hands moved urgently from her waist to her breasts as his kisses became more ardent. Pushing her against the wall, his right hand dropped to her leg, pulling up her skirt as he pressed against her. "Marry me," he panted.
She easily evaded his hands and stepped sideways, straightening her clothing. "I thought you would never ask," she told him, and walked sedately from the room leaving him dizzy, confused and elated.
LLLLL
Johnny dragged himself out of bed at sun-up, every muscle in his body protesting. He felt as if he had endured a severe beating, only he had no bruises. There was nothing to show for the agony of the previous evening. He had woken in a cold sweat from a vivid and disturbing dream. Now though, the images were draining from his mind like water through a sieve. The harder he tried to hang onto them, the more elusive they became.
He was no longer sure what was happening. The events of last night were blurred. He recalled Sam examining him, asking questions to which he had no answers. And Isabelle – he felt his heart quicken as he thought of her. Only, she wasn't his. She belonged to Scott, and the unfairness of that knifed deep into his body.
Pausing in the act of buttoning up his shirt, Johnny re-evaluated his last thought. His mind cleared. The stark warning from his dream resurfaced and the danger crystallized. This was his fault! If he hadn't reached out to Scott last year, if he'd just accepted his fate, his brother would be safe. He might be damned for all eternity, but he wasn't going to stand by while Scott's soul was torn from him. He'd kill the bitch himself if he had to, in order to prevent that.
Hurriedly, he stuffed his shirt into his trousers and headed downstairs. The smell of bacon frying reminded him that it had been a long time since he'd eaten. Maria offered a subdued greeting, casting wary glances at Murdoch and Teresa. They appeared oblivious to the atmosphere, chatting quietly as they ate.
Johnny studied his father, feeling again the sting of the unexpected slap. Even though he knew that his father hadn't been in control of his actions it still hurt – emotionally more than physically. Murdoch looked up from his plate and smiled as if nothing unusual had happened.
"How are you, Johnny?" He hurried on before Johnny could respond. "You just missed Scott."
Every nerve in Johnny's body was on fire. The danger was pressing in around Lancer, and soon it would be too late. "Where is he?" he asked, through a suffocating feeling of panic.
Murdoch ignored the question as he exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Teresa. "I'm sure he won't mind me telling you his news."
A low murmur of sound reached Johnny's ears. Maria was reciting a prayer, begging for God's protection, the words barely audible. He turned sharply just in time to see her cross herself. If Murdoch had noticed, he chose to say nothing, just waiting until he had Johnny's attention.
"Your brother is getting married."
Johnny raced from the kitchen, hearing, but not heeding Murdoch's surprised shout. He reached the barn and wrenched the door open, yelling for Scott. The horses stamped uneasily, tossing their heads in response to the intrusion. Scott stopped what he was doing, raised an eyebrow and then smiled.
"Good morn…"
Reaching out, Johnny gripped Scott's arms, shaking him violently. "Are you out of your mind?" he bellowed.
The smile disappeared from Scott's face. "Take your hands off me."
"Not until you agree to listen."
"Listen to what?" Scott demanded. "More of your jealous lies?" He made no effort to escape from Johnny's imprisoning hands as he threw his challenge in his brother's face.
Johnny dropped his hands, shaken by the venom in Scott's voice, and stepped back. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I don't care. She's evil, Scott. She doesn't love you. All she wants is to finish what the Priest started last year."
Scott's fist rocketed out, the force of the blow sending Johnny hurtling into the wooden partition between the stalls. He scrambled to his feet, launching himself at the blond and wrestling him to the floor.
Scott raised his knee, driving it hard into Johnny's groin and tearing a scream from his throat. Johnny pulled his legs up, rolling onto his side and gasping for breath. As his senses cleared he pushed himself backwards, resting his back against a bale of hay. He looked up into the barrel of a gun and his blood ran cold. Scott pulled the hammer back and tightened his finger on the trigger.
"I'm not armed," Johnny ground out, blinking sweat from his eyes.
"That's your misfortune."
"No." Johnny carefully eased himself to his feet, the gun following his every move. "'Cause even if I was, I wouldn't shoot my own brother." The gun remained trained on his heart. He knew that he had to find a way to reach his brother otherwise, they would both be lost. "D'you remember last year? You tracked me all the way to Mexico. You were supposed to kill me then and send my soul to hell."
Scott's resolute expression wavered, and Johnny saw confusion as he pressed ahead. "Anyone else would've gone through with it. They wouldn't have had the strength to resist what that bastard did to you." He allowed his passionate hatred for the Priest to blaze out. Strong emotion was the key, he realized. It was the deep bond of brotherhood that had won through the last time they had fought this enemy. "Do you remember, Brother?"
"Remember?" Scott tilted his head to one side, eyes now vague and unfocused.
"The temple – the altar." Johnny suppressed a shudder. "That whole valley was enslaved by evil. The fear was so strong you could taste it. You need to believe me, Scott. That same evil is here now, in our valley. Do you want the same thing to happen here?"
"Yes, I…I remember." Scott's voice was hesitant, uncertain, his brow creased in thought.
"You saved me then," Johnny stated emphatically. "Now, the Devil wants his revenge. He wants to make you pay for what you did."
"The Devil doesn't exist." Scott's denial lacked conviction.
"That wasn't what you said then," Johnny reminded him. "I thought we'd beaten him. Guess I was wrong. If you pull that trigger, Brother, you'll damn both of us. Is that what you want? You fought him once, and won. You need to do it again."
Scott's face cleared. The anger and animosity drained away, and he lowered his head. "Can't fight him alone – not this time. Help me," he begged. His arm fell to his side, the gun slipping from his fingers.
"That's why I'm here," Johnny assured him, catching him around the waist as he swayed unsteadily. "Sit down."
Scott sank down on the hay bale, bowed his head and began to massage his temples. "Head hurts," he explained quietly.
There was a bucket of clean water by the door. Johnny dipped the ladle into it and carried it over. Scott drank deeply and straightened up.
"I feel," he paused as if unsure of his words. "I feel as if I've been living in a dream."
Johnny hunkered down so that he was level with his brother. He caught and held Scott's tormented gaze, seeking to instil a sense of reassurance. "More like a nightmare," he replied gently. "Now, we have to figure out how to make it end."
Tbc
Caroline