The Truth

The blackened night sky seemed to mirror the mood of the weary traveler, not one star was able to peak through the darkness.

He had been gone for six very lonely days and now he could see the dim light of the lantern that always sat on his father's desk. It was like a beacon to those traveling in the moonless night, a welcomed sight to one who was so bone tired from riding a horse for more than sixteen hours without much more than a couple of stops to rest his weary horse.

The sale had gone as planned, he had purchased a bull that his father had been drooling over since the day that he had seen it in a Stockton newspaper. It was the prize possession of one Amos Landers Cooper and if he didn't know better the old coot must have been a bitter, but greedy acquaintance of his father. The man had driven a hard bargain, but in the end, the price was fair, and he had paid it gratefully.

The Palomino, his amigo, was on automatic now as he found the road that headed for home, the Lancer arch now in site. Barranca never missed a step as he slowly walked towards the hacienda. Johnny couldn't help but feel relieved, it had been a long and tiring trip, but a trip without incidence. He had not been shot at, no dreaded disease had invaded his body and there was no woman left behind to whom he owed his soul. It was the most boring trip of his life, but that was fine with him. Right now, he just wanted to take a bath and crawl into his soft bed. In his weary mind, he could already feel the feather filled pillow touching his face and all he wanted to do was sleep.

Tobias must have been watching for him because he met him at the entrance ready to take his beloved horse and tuck him in at the stable. He nodded to the younger man his appreciation, and he gave his horse over after dismounting and giving him a firm pat on its side, " Thank you, mi amigo.", he whispered into Barranca's ear.

He combed his long silky mane with his long fingers then touched his cheek to Barranca's muzzle and cooed something that Tobias could not hear, then walked off quietly towards the door.

Tobias hesitated for just a moment before leading the Palamino to the stables, not wanting the two companions to leave each other's sight for a few seconds longer. He knew their bond and appreciated the love the younger Lancer held for his horse. Quietly, they walked off as Johnny entered his home.

" Hello, the house!" Johnny called out as he entered the dimly lit entrance. He removed his hat and his gun belt and placed them on the coat tree. He then made his way towards the stairs and was about to take his first step upwards when he heard voices in the study. His curiosity was peaked to why the family was still awake at this late hour and he walked over to the door and listened, concern and anger etched on his face as he heard the argument taking place inside Murdoch's study.

" I will not tell Johnny that he can't go with us to Sacramento." Scott almost yelled at his father, " He deserves to go as much as I do."

" You know why he can't, Scott. There will be high profiled businessmen there and he just wouldn't fit in with high society. He would be awkward and his reputation for being Johnny Madrid, wouldn't be acceptable to most of them. They won't accept him as a reformed rancher and you know that as a fact." Murdoch attempted to explain, but Scott was having none of it.

" If Johnny isn't accepted as a member of the cattlemen's association, then I will not be attending and that is my final word on the matter." Scott gulped down the last of the amber liquor in his glass and sat it down abruptly, his anger evident.

" You are being unreasonable, Scott. Marvin Lakers and Cavin Harris will be attending and they both attended Harvard, just like you. You'd have so much in common with them." He pushed his chair back from his large wooden desk and stood as to make his point more authoritatively, " Johnny, would feel out of place there." He started to walk over to where Scott stood but suddenly stopped when the door opened, his youngest son standing in the office doorway, looking worn and haggard from his trip to Stockton.

" Murdoch. Scott. " The weary man greeted his father and brother as he walked in, all the while he was taking in the shocked expression on both his father's and brother's faces.

" Johnny, you're back early. Did the sale go okay, son?" Murdoch attempted to hide the fact that he knew his son had probably overheard his discussion with his oldest son, but too embarrassed to acknowledge it to the man now standing worn and tired before him.

" Yeah, everything went fine. Your bull will be delivered Friday by train at Cross Creek, figured Jelly can pick him up for you." Johnny's southern drawl seemed a little thicker than usual.

" Our bull, son." Murdoch corrected as he walked over to the bar ready to offer his son a drink.

Johnny shrugged his shoulders at the statement then waved him and the drink off and looked over at his brother, a small smile crept on his face, " Scott, you go on to Sacramento with our father. I agree with the old man, I'm just not the social type. I'm more of one the hired help types." He looked over at his father who seemed ready to defend his point, but Johnny turned and walked out of the room before he could even say a word.

Scott looked at his father with a look of disdain, angry at the man who had basically called his brother, not worthy, " Yep, that went well." Scott mumbled as he huffed out the room, angry that his brother was being treated so disrespectfully by their father. He needed to find his brother and let him know that he was not going anywhere without him and that was the end of the argument, his final thought as he slammed the door to the study behind him.

Murdoch stood alone in the big room with his thoughts. He had never meant to hurt Johnny, but he knew these men, had known them for years and he knew that they despised Mexicans, thought of them as a lower class than whites. He knew better than to associate with people with bias but being a part of the association had benefited him over the years, had helped in growing Lancer into what it was today. But it had come at a high price, his soul, a marriage, and two sons.

He would talk to his sons, make them understand, make them see that it had to be this way because, without the Cattlemen's Association, there would be no Lancer. He would make them understand that these me could be worse than Pardee, they would make sure he failed, they failed. They could destroy Lancer.

Murdoch blew out the lantern and walked towards the door that had been recently slammed in his dream and his desire to have Scott take over in his shoes. He felt shattered. Taking over Lancer someday was something he couldn't offer Johnny, because of his heritage, because of his son's mother and her Mexican heritage. Guilt was overcoming his soul as he walked slowly to his room.

Scott assumed that his brother had retreated to his room, his brother's bedroom door was closed, and no light appeared through the cracks of the door frame. He knocked lightly, thinking Johnny might not want to be bothered after overhearing his father's assumptions that he wasn't educated enough to be around his so-called upper-class friends. It angered him, and he didn't want anything to do with his father's Cattlemen's Club.

When Scott didn't get an audible answer, he assumed it was because his little brother didn't want to discuss anything in his tired state. He would wait until the morning and then he would have that talk with his little brother. He would let him know that he wasn't attending anything without Johnny by his side. He retreated to his own bedroom and shut the door, tomorrow they would have a long talk.

Johnny hadn't gone to his bedroom but instead, he chose to take a bath. A very much needed bath after six days of travel. He heated the water for the tub as he pulled off his clothing. He was bone tired. It really hadn't bothered him that his father felt he wasn't educated enough to attend some fancy meeting, it was all well with him, but it did bother him some that his father felt he was not good enough to be around his friends.

He touched the water with his left hand to test it and it was just right for his sore body. He then slid into the tub, one leg at a time and then sat down, the hot water taking out the soreness almost instantaneously. He slid down as far as he could slide and tilted his head back, sliding a folded towel behind his head and closed his eyes. He was too tired for any arguments right now and all he wanted to do was rest. He had a headache something fierce.

He must have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes again, the water that had been so warm and inviting was like a cold, icy watering hole. He quickly stood and dried himself off and removed himself from the tub. He must have been exhausted because it was even later than he thought as he pulled his father's old watch from his pant pocket. " Dang." He muttered as he slid his nightshirt over his head, avoiding putting on his long johns, it was just too much effort.

He threw his dirty clothing in a basket for Maria to wash and headed upstairs, his hair still dripping small rivulets of water that spilled onto the floor as he made his way upstairs. He had almost made it to his bedroom door when he heard the soft voice of his father. He could hear him speaking to someone in his room, but knew better, Murdoch was not the type of have a lady visitor in his room with his sons at home.

He walked over to the door, feeling guilty for listening in on a second private conversation but he was just too curious not to listen, so he stood still by his father's door, his father's words shattered his heart.

"Maria, what have I done? I have alienated him again. He doesn't deserve not being a part of the family and all the business dealings, but I just can't have him knowing that these men treated you so horribly or how their wives shunned you and caused you so much pain. He can't know why you left, why you ran away from the likes of these men I've called my friends. I would never allow that to happen to our son, not again." His voice so full of emotion and sorrow. It even seemed to Johnny that he might be crying.

Johnny shook his head, not really understanding fully what his father was saying, but he had an idea. He was a half-breed, El Mestizo, an unwanted. He knew his mother left for a reason and his father knew what the true reason was, yet his father still had dealings with those men who disrespected his mother, and who had also disrespected his father for having bred a half-breed son. But why? Why had his father continued to be friends with these men who had treated his family so disrespectfully, so horribly?

Had these very men destroyed his family? Caused his mother to flee because of the prejudice against her and her heritage? He knew the answer, it was all about money and power, and his single-minded father needed both to make Lancer prosperous, a success. It was to hell with his sons or his wives, it was all about his ranch, his dream.

He suddenly felt dizzy and sick to his stomach, his father was not the man he thought he was, instead he was just like the others, the very men who would spit on him as a child and call him names. He stumbled across the hallway, holding back the retching until he was safe in his room. He made sure the door was firmly secured and he knelt, grabbing his wash basin as he slid to his knees and then threw up violently.

After what seemed like an eternity he pushed the pan away and crawled into his bed, tears streaming down his face. He thought he had finally found his home, a brother, a sister, a true friend, and a caring father, but all of that was just a fantasy, a stupid dream.

He would have to leave soon because if he stayed he would have to kill the man who had ran his wife off and her half-breed son, the words, " And take buster with you", screamed at him. He knew he had to leave or he would have to kill his so-called Father for the pain he had caused his mother.

After just a few moments his body betrayed him, and he fell asleep, exhaustion overcoming him.

Chapter Two

His eyes opened slowly, they seemed matted together, sticky. He lifted his hand to his face and rubbed until he could open them without a problem. He noted the sun shining into the room, it was later than he usually got out of bed, but this morning it just didn't seem that important to rise early. He needed to come up with a plan and he needed to do it soon.

He would need some money, his horse, and a destination. He no longer had the desire to be Madrid, gunfighter, but he knew he could be a rancher or a horse trainer, skills he didn't know he had until being at Lancer. He would miss Scott, Teresa, and Jelly, but he knew he could no longer live under his father's roof. His anger was too palpable after learning the truth.

He started to sit up but then noticed a still form at his bedside.

" Good morning sunshine." Scott greeted, a smile on his face and a book in his hand.

" Good morning to you too, brother," he replied as he attempted to push the heavy blankets off his lower form. " You lose something?"

Scott gave him a small grin and reached over to the bedside table and laid his book down and then stood, stretching his tall lean form. " I came to talk to my brother about three hours ago, but he seemed to enjoy sleeping late this morning, so I did not disturb his slumber." He smiled down at his struggling brother.

" Probably a good thing you didn't wake me, I might have shot you." He returned as he attempted to sit up but was having some difficulty with that small feat. His legs felt numb, and his head ached. What the hell? he thought to himself.

" You okay, Johnny?" Scott asked, the concern now evidenced by the look on his face and concern in his voice as he assisted Johnny into a sitting position on the bed.

" I was last night but I do seem to be having a little bit of trouble this morning getting my body to cooperate." The statement he made was honest but said with a bit of humor, but in all honesty, he was more concerned that he was letting on to his brother.

Scott looked down at Johnny, he was worried now because his usually independent brother was leaning heavily to one side and was unable to move his legs without great difficulty. "Lay back down Johnny. I'm going to send for Sam." He assisted the weakened man back into bed and pulled up the blanket.

A fine sheen of sweat now covered his face and he was panting as if he had run a mile head on, and for the life of him, he couldn't understand what had happened in the few short hours since he had finally fallen asleep. He had been fine and now he was an invalid. What the hell was going on with him.

"Johnny!" Scott's loud voice broke through his racing thoughts and he knew he had to give his brother some attention.

" M' ,Okay." Is all he could muster, he was winded, short of breath and he felt an overwhelming urge to just go back to sleep. Maybe it was a dream, or a nightmare, whichever it was it needed to stop.

Scott ran out of the room and down the stairs, avoiding his father who was already angry that Johnny had not joined them for breakfast. Damn Murdoch's rules, he needed to focus on his brother right now and he needed to find Cipriano fast.

He ran out into the yard and saw Cipriano talking to Tobias and he hurried to meet him, "Cipriano!" Scott called, frantic to get a doctor for his brother. He hurriedly told him about Johnny's condition and that they needed to send for Sam. Tobias readily volunteered and mounted his already saddled horse and took off, he was a true friend to Johnny, there came no better.

Cipriano hurriedly followed Scott back into the hacienda, wanting to see for himself what was going on with his nephew. Concern etched on both faces as they entered the room where Johnny was now sleeping or passed out.

" He does not look well, Senor," Cipriano stated as he took in the frail appearance of the usually vibrant nephew.

" This was sudden, he was fine last night but he must have been sick during the night. He threw up quite a bit, I found it this morning when I came into his room." He explained, not giving the complete details of what had occurred the night before.

" I will get Teresa, she can tend to him until Sam arrives," Cipriano stated in a low voice so as not to disturb the man in the bed. "She will know what to do for him." He turned to leave, giving one more glance at the sick man in the bed, " I will pray for you nephew, and so will my wife." He crossed himself and left the room.

"Johnny, what's going on with you this time. Don't you ever get a break?" Scott questioned out loud as he turned to get a wet cloth, remembering that he had taken the wash basin out earlier to clean it but had forgotten it near the watering trough. Instead of going back out to retrieve it he walked into his room and grabbed his own basin to fill with fresh water.

The pain in his head awakened him this time, it hurt and it was the bad kind of hurt. What had he done? He was fine last night, he had been able to do even the simplest of things but right now he could barely move his toes. Suddenly thought entered his mind, his pained brain remembered the conversation from last evening and now he felt the urge to get moving, he needed to leave, he needed to get away from his father. But his body betrayed him and stayed as still as the night sky.

He took his fist and pounded it into his thigh, hoping to feel anything but there was nothing, and the numbness seemed to be spreading upward, and he worried how long it would be before he would not be able to breathe. He was scared.

He was relieved as Scott entered the room, mumbling something about stupid washcloths not being where they should be. The man seemed frantic.

" Scott." His voice cracked with the exhaustion that the small act had taken, his voice in his own ears sounding weak, feeble.

Scott sat the water basin down and rushed to his brother's side, his voice betraying his deep concern as he spoke to his very sick brother, "Hey, thought you were going to sleep the day away."

"Nah, just half of it." He again attempted moving his legs but to no avail. "What's wrong with me Scott? I was fine last night, but now I can't even feel my feet." His deep blue eyes were seeking answers in his brothers face but finding none, Scott looked as confused about his condition as he was and that was saying a lot.

" Tobias went to get Sam, he'll be here soon." He poured a glass of water " Do you think you can drink some water?" Scott was concerned that Johnny wouldn't even be able to hold the glass with his shaky hands.

Johnny thought for a second then answered, "Maybe, if you help me hold the glass." His trembling hands reaching for the glass, but he was unable to grasp it well with either hand.

Scott guided the glass to the younger man's lips and watched as he took small sips, probably afraid that he might choke on a simple drink of water. He finally waved it away, almost giving up on getting more than a few sips down.

" This is bad." He whispered, not really thinking about what he was saying but mostly saying it to himself.

"Hey, listen, we'll get through this, but you need to rest until Sam gets here." Setting the glass aside he reached down and pulled the heavy blankets up to Johnny's waist. " Rest little brother, I'm going to find Teresa."

It didn't take but a moment to remember he didn't have his long johns on and he almost had a panic attack, " No, Scott. You stay with me." HIs voice weak but the point was made.

Scott, who was almost out the door looked back, scared that something else was happening but the look on his little brother's face was all he needed to know that his hard-headed brother was missing an important piece of his clothing.

"Okay. Okay. Didn't I tell you a thousand times to wear undergarments, brother?" He smiled as he returned to the bed and dampened the washcloth and placed it on Johnny's forehead, noting a rising fever.

"Was too tired last night." He mumbled, the feeling of lethargy engulfing his mind. He had been so careful on the trip to Stockton, heck, he didn't even seek the comfort of a woman the whole trip. 'Danged if you do and danged if you don't', he thought to himself as he allowed the cool cloth to give him a little relief from what felt like a fever brewing.

" Oh my gosh, Johnny, are you alright?" Teresa's voiced sounded winded and full of concern as she entered the room.

He opened one eye and felt as if he was going to have a heart attack, she was there in his room and he didn't have any long johns on. She had better not pull back his covers, and that's all he could think about as she rushed over to his bed and caressed his face with both hands. Her soft touch, her delicate skin was too much, she was his sister and she needed to leave the room, and he would have to tell her in a nice way.

But it was Scott to the rescue. "Teresa, why don't you get some of your herbal tea for our brother. I do believe he has a fever."

She bent down and gave her brother a kiss on the cheek, " Some willow bark tea coming right up, I'll be back in a flash, Johnny." She smiled, patted his numb right leg and when she turned to leave the room her skirt made a swishing sound that neither brother had never paid attention too before Both men heard the sound as she rushed out of the room and both men were in awe that a skirt could make that big of a sound.

"Thanks, Brother." Johnny was finally able to whisper as he noted that his voice was sounding even weaker to his ears, if that were possible.

" Welcome." Giving his brother a crooked grin. " Now let's see if we can get this fever down." He reached over and touched his brother's face feeling the heat radiate from his too warm skin then removed the now warm cloth and dipped again into the cool water and replaced it. Sparkling, fevered eyes staring at him.

" She'll be back." Johnny hinted, not wanting, actually he was unable to make his complete point verbally.

Scott took the hint and stood, walked over to the dresser and pulled out a clean pair of underwear then quickly assisted his little brother into them, it was difficult because Johnny was unable to assist in any way. It took a few minutes, but the act was finally completed, and Scott had his very weak brother secured under the quilts again.

Afterward, Johnny just nodded his thanks, closed his eyes, and hoped that Sam would hurry and get there, he was scared.

Chapter Three

His head felt as if it was being prodded by iron poker. What in the heck were they doing? He had to open his eyes and there were voices that were telling him to wake up, but he was so tired, his eyes felt heavy. But he needed, had to, find out who was poking at his skull.

"That's it, Johnny, open your eyes.' The voice was soft and encouraging but he realized that whoever's voice it was penetrating the thick fog of his brain was also the one causing him pain, he would make sure that they knew he was unhappy with whatever they were doing.

"Stop." His voice sounded slurred, thick and not very intimidating, Hell, it didn't even sound like his voice. Dang, he sounded rough, he hoped that it wasn't as bad as his scratchy voice indicated.

The hands that were bringing fire to is skull stopped and there was a momentary relief. "Sam?"

"I'm right here, Johnny." Sam soothed his young patient. He looked at the object between the tweezers, a tick. Sam shook his head and knew he had been right, tick paralysis, caused by the toxins released by a very small round but deadly bug. He just hoped that he had gotten it out in time. He placed the killer bug into the basin and continued to comfort his young patient.

" Am I dying?" He asked, hoping for a negative answer, but not really expecting any other answer except an affirmation that he would definitely be leaving this world soon.

"Doing my best to prevent it, but you sure aren't making it easy." The worried doctor answered as he placed the warmed tweezers down on the table. In all his medical practice he had never had a patient who could walk outside and come back in with a medical emergency. The young, talented man, it seemed, had a huge black cloud hovering over his head.

" Sorry." He paused, the small act of speaking making him feel winded.

" You have nothing to be sorry for, Johnny.", Sam was worried, not only for his patient but that there might be more of the community affected but this outbreak of tick-associated paralysis.

" Johnny, on your trip to Stockton, did you camp out?" Wanting to know where he had picked up this deadly tick.

" Yeah, near Mark Bishop's old place." He stopped, too weak to say anything else when suddenly a pain ripped through his chest, a coughing spell hit him hard and suddenly hands were pulling him forward. There were muffled voices telling him something, but he was just too tired to hear them. He quickly slipped into an unconsciousness.

" Sam?" Scott's voice trembled, the horrific scene of his brother struggling to breathe had terrified him, now he wondered if Johnny could pull through this latest run of bad luck. How could anybody find that one tick that carried a toxin that could kill him?

Sam shook his head as he listened to Johnny's lungs, hoping that his star patient wouldn't be stricken with respiratory problems but after quickly assessing his patient he knew it wouldn't be the case.

" Scott, I'm going to be honest with you, I'm afraid that Johnny will end up with pneumonia, his lungs have been affected by the toxin and his body is still paralyzed from the same poison. He has a chance, but to be honest, it's not a good chance." He informed the older brother as he went about continuing to look for more ticks. If there was one nasty critter, then there could be more.

Scott felt as if had been hit in the gut with a two by four. His brother likely would die. He needed air, he needed to run from the room, but his brother needed him or was it the other way around? Did he need his brother? His life before Lancer, before his little brother, had been a life of education, womanizing, and living a rich man's life, with no commitments, no real family ties, no little brother to watch after.

Tears ran down his cheeks, he didn't want his best friend to die. His body trembled with a fear he had just recently experienced when Johnny had been shot in the back by Pardee, the fear that he might lose his brother. He thought that had been the worse that could happen, but he was wrong. The man now wrought with another crisis had won his heart months before and now he may never get to really know his little brother, a man of many mysteries and surprises.

A soft hand guided him to a chair by the window, whispering their own pain, but his pain was far too great to hear anybody else's. The searing pain of emotional anguish that he felt in his heart was winning out, deafening him to everyone else's emotional agony.

Murdoch stood at the door listening to his baby boy's prognosis and his thoughts raced to their last conversation. It would be a conversation that he would forever be engrained in his mind, and it would be one that would haunt him forever. How could he have been so selfish, then, now? His son didn't deserve this, didn't deserve growing up in a world of hate, a world that he continued to push on his sons.

It was his fault that Maria left, his fault that his son became a killer at a young age. He made Johnny Madrid, but it was his son who had made the man, Johnny Lancer. His son would have been one helluva young man if it hadn't been for his own greed, his own selfish desires. He hated himself for what he had done to his son, his sons. The past was not the past, it was still present, it was in the here and now. Bias, bigotry, and greed had been what had made Lancer and it would be what destroyed it too.

He would never be able to make it up to his son, he would never be able to make it up to either son. Lancer had always come first and now he might pay the ultimate price. He knew he could lose not just one son, but both sons because of his greed.

He walked over and looked down at his son struggling with just the act of breathing, a simple act on any other day, but not today. His shaky hand reached out and touched his son's sweaty face, as he watched the struggle of his son attempting to take another breath. This moment would be forever emblazoned in his mind.

His heart was breaking, his spirit forever damaged with what he had done to his family. He needed to walk away, get his thoughts together, but he could not leave his son just yet.

He took the hand on Johnny's face and slowly traced his fine features with his finger, and in his mind's eye he was seeing the face of Maria, seeing the pain his son was experiencing and the past pain his wife had endured due to his selfishness.

He was feeling overwhelmed with feelings of loss past and present, the ache in his heart for his son's struggle to cling to life and Maria's early death due to her struggles after leaving Lancer. " I'm so sorry, Johnny.", he whispered before removing his hand and turning to leave the room. He could take no more, the guilt of what he had done to his child, to Maria and even Scott. He could stand it no more, and he left the room.

Sam shook his head, wondering to himself if this family would ever allow the past to guide their future. Mistakes were made, but there was always tomorrow. They just needed to love each other and forgive. Another tick caught his attention as he combed through Johnny's thick black hair and he went to work attempting to remove another offending bug.

Chapter Four

It had been a full day since Johnny started on his downward decline. The sounds of his struggling breaths had filled the room for most of the night. Sam was still sitting in a chair beside his patient, dozing slightly.

He had been working with Johnny all night, as had Teresa. Their efforts up to an hour before seemed fruitless but then Johnny had given them a sign, he had begun moving his legs and his congestion seem to lessen with a more productive cough.

The fever had shown signs of breaking, a good indication that the toxins were slowly leaving his body. His improved condition was a relief, but the concern was still there, he wasn't out of the woods just yet. They still had to keep a close vigil, pneumonia was still a huge possibility due to Johnny's immobility for the past twenty-four hours.

Teresa continued to place cool compresses on her brother's forehead, continued to pray silently that God would spare him once again. She looked over at Scott who seemed to be getting frustrated in his sleep as his long legs, propped on the bed, kept getting kicked by Johnny's legs, spasms had replaced paralyzed muscles. She smiled, it was a good sign.

She picked up the basin up sweat laced water and walked out of the room. She had questioned all night where Murdoch had gone but that was quickly answered after seeing his bedroom door open and her surrogate father sitting in his chair asleep, a Bible laid across his lap. He looked worn, as if he had been ill himself.

She quickly emptied the basin in the water closet and refreshed the water and headed back into the sick room. She would wake Murdoch later. Placing the water basin back on the table she decided that coffee would be needed soon. She gently nudged her older brother who seemed rather startled but was wide awake within seconds.

" Hey, how is he?" Scott's voice was hoarse, his hand automatically going towards his brother's exposed torso, touching his bare chest he noted the improvement in his brother's body temperature.

" Doing better. Hey, I'm going downstairs and get breakfast started. I'll send Maria up with some fresh coffee." She smiled and patted his arm as she exited the room again.

Scott was relieved, he then got excited when his little brother moved his legs without any assistance. " You are something else little brother." The excitement was more than he could handle, and he cried silent tears.

There was a noise beside of him, the sound of soft snoring near his bed had awakened him. 'Oh my gosh', he moaned silently, his head still hurt, and his eyes seemed too blurry to make out images very well. He knew immediately that Sam was still there, the smell of medicine and antiseptics was too strong.

He attempted to call out his physician's name, but his throat was sore, and he was suddenly aware of a tube down his throat. The dreaded nasal tube that he had experienced when he was shot by Pardee was making a reappearance and it hurt.

As Johnny's hand went to remove the offending object in his nose Scott intervened.

"No, brother. We aren't going to do that again." Scott placed a gentle hand on his brother's and gave it a gentle squeeze. His brother had removed his nasal tube several times while recovering from his gunshot to his back and it wasn't going to happen this time, they would all make sure of it, or at least try.

The weakened man couldn't put up a fight, he just nodded his head and took in a deep breath. He felt the congestion inside his lungs, but it was a lot easier to breathe now than it had been last time he was awake.

" Long?" His scratchy voice asked, his mind already contemplating his escape, and how to rid himself of the offending tube.

" Roughly a day and a half, but brother you are doing so much better this morning. You are even moving your legs, I have the bruises to prove it." Scott answered as he noted that Sam was now awake and rubbing his hands over his face, it had been a long night.

"It's amazing that the tube is still in place." Sam teased as he stood now against the bed, stethoscope in hand.

" Tried, Scott stopped me." He strained out of his rough sounding voice.

"Well, good for Scott. Now, let's see how you're doing young man." Sam did not delay and went to work checking over his patient from head to toe.

Johnny gritted his teeth, he hated doctoring and he especially hated it when he was missing all his clothing. Well, at least Teresa isn't in the room. But it didn't take long to hear the voice of the only other woman he didn't want to see him naked, Maria.

Her rapid Spanish was either of joy or she was giving her favorite Lancer son a tongue lashing, Scott couldn't tell but he noted that Johnny was doing a lot of nodding and holding onto his quilt for dear life. She had carried a tray with cups of coffee, warm biscuits with homemade jelly, and butter into the room and she quickly placed it on the table, promising to return with some warm broth for her Nino. She exited the room as quickly as she had entered, still speaking rapid Spanish.

" Well, she's a whirlwind this morning. What did she say, Johnny?" Scott asked as he handed Sam a hot cup of coffee.

Johnny closed his eyes as if he were thinking about repeating the demure little woman's words, then he decided to keep it simple, "She told me ...ta get ...better."

Both men nodded, they knew she had said so much more evidenced by the reddened cheeks of her sweet Nino'.

" Well, young man, you are improving but I will be very honest, you're not out of the woods yet." He sat his cup down and picked up a large syringe and filled it with water and placed it into the nasal tube. His young patient watching his every move.

"No drugs." His voice was raspy and winded, but his point was made by the look he gave Sam, his infamous Madrid stare, well, he thought it worked until he felt a sudden lethargy come over him and he knew the doctor had snuck one in on him.

"Why did you do that, Sam?", Scott asked as he adjusted the blankets on a very drugged Johnny.

" We all know him well. He was probably already contemplating how he was going to get the tube out, sneak out of bed and be able to ride that fool horse of his to town for a beer. I'm sorry Scott but he needs to rest even if I have to sedate him, He is still a very sick young man." Sam replied, wondering where Murdoch was, there had to be something going on that he wasn't aware of, but he would be damned if anyone would interfere with Johnny's recovery.

Scott nodded in agreement, Sam was right, Johnny was a handful when he was well, but when he was sick, life was hell.

Chapter Five

When he awakened again, he was alone, or so he thought. He seemed to be able to move his legs and his hips again, evidenced by being able to role on his side without any help and his bladder was calling a tune that had to be listened to and quickly. They had probably dumped a trough of water down that damnable tube, it would be gone before they could attempt it again.

He snaked his hand up to find the end of the tube but found it was evidently out of his reach. Well, he could be sneaky too. He slowly opened his eyes which were still having difficulty with blurry vision, but he didn't see anybody around, but he could hear voices in the hallway. He ducked his head downward and started to inch out the tube when the voice of God spoke, or it could have been Sam, they seemed to sound the same in his aching head.

" If you pull that tube out son I will drug you until you drool." Sam's long fingers reached over and removed his patient's hand from the nasal tube and placed it back under the quilt. " I've been awake for almost two days straight trying to keep you alive and all you want to do is pull out my hard work. When you get better, we are going to have a serious talk, young man." Sam reprimanded his incorrigible patient.

He knew he had to act contrite, sorry, so he did what he did best, he played innocent. " Sorry, just need to go, now." He realized that his voice even sounded better, which was good, because he was ready to get out of the bed, better yet away from Lancer, the recent revelation of his Father's betrayal to his mother, to him was more than he could handle. The man had lied, and he had to leave before that urge to kill the man returned, he was better than that now. Leaving was the only option.

Sam busied himself finding the jar for Johnny to urinate in and when presented to the young man the look on his face was priceless. " Yes, you will use the jar, because you are still too weak to get up, but soon." He smiled as he placed the jar into position.

He just closed his eyes and did his business, heck, he couldn't even be mad right now because he was too busy feeling weak and vulnerable. He nodded his thanks to the older man, no arguments today but tomorrow, no more jars to piss in, he would be up and about, regardless of Sam's orders.

Sam studied the urine and then set it aside. He busied himself with something that Johnny could not observe, the physician's back was all he could see. He wondered what the doc was doing, what he was up to, he didn't want any more drugs.

Sometimes, you just must beg, thought Johnny. I do not want to be drugged anymore, I'm feeling better and I won't take any more medicine, he said to himself. He had a plan, so while Sam had his back turned, the tube was going to be removed. He quickly reached up and took the tube with his entire hand and yanked, and with great effort he was attempting to avoid the gagging reflex that always followed, so as not to make any noise. After freeing himself of the end of the tube, all he could think was that his mission was successful.

Without turning, Sam smiled, he knew what his patient was up to, and he knew he couldn't stop it, but he had other plans for his rowdy patient. Like he had said earlier, they had worked too hard to save his life, he would be danged if he would allow any more setbacks.

" I hope that made you feel better, son." Sam smiled, his back still turned.

Sam's voice made the young man jerk, he was still holding the rubber tubing."Yep, feel better already." He was not going to allow that thing back into his nose.

Sam suppressed his laugh and turned holding a syringe. "Thought you might try that, but I won't allow you to make yourself sicker. You are still a very ill young man and you will rest." Sam held up the syringe filled with medication.

Johnny's eyes opened wide, a look of fear was there. He hated needles as much as the medication it held. Suddenly Scott was there by the doctor's side to back up the impending threat.

" Better." Was all he could manage to say, his throat on fire from the removal of the tube.

"Tsk, tsk, little brother. Will you ever learn that you can't outsmart Sam?" Scott added as he walked to the other side of his bed.

" Two on one. Not fair." His voice cracked, sore from the removal of the tube, he was ready to put up a fight but the strong hands of Scott and Sam rolling him over indicated this was one fight he would not win, and the sting of the needle did nothing more than tick him off as he slid into a resting sleep.

" He is one strong headed Lancer." Sam commented as he laid the syringe down on the bedside table and picked up a jar of lubricant. " He is not out of the woods yet. His lungs are still congested, and he is still at risk for pneumonia. I'll drug his hind end to the gills, but he is not going to get worse on my watch." The doctor was in full doctoring mode now, his concern was evident in his conviction to get Johnny better. The tube was going back down.

Scott smiled, he knew Sam was going to have his hands full. What Johnny didn't know was that Sam had a new partner to check in on his other patients and it was like having his own private doctor. Maybe he would keep that a secret from his misbehaving brother.

Chapter Six

Murdoch was awakened by Teresa earlier, his head still ached and he was still unable to come to terms with what he had done to his sons, all in the name of Lancer. Two days he had sat in his room, avoiding his sons, avoiding the truths of his past sins.

How do you make up years of putting a ranch before your own sons and wives lost? Repentance was impossible. His greed and bias were unforgivable. He laid his Bible down on the table and stood, he needed to check in on his youngest. He had been so worried that he had been praying most of the night, praying for forgiveness and begging for his son to be healed. He needed to check with Sam, make sure his son was going to get better.

As he stepped out into the hallway he overheard Scott and Sam talking, and he knew Johnny was awake and giving them a hard time. He took the few steps to his son's sick room and stood in the door. His recalcitrant son was giving them heck.

" If you drug me again, I will buck." Johnny yelled, well, attempted yelling at his doctor and brother, his voice was too still too weak and scratchy to be taken seriously, but he still was giving them heck.

They both stood back with arms crossed, shaking their heads at the headstrong man in the bed. Each looking at the other and smiling, laughing.

" I would think he would have learned who was in control," Scott stated, as he looked at his brother struggling to sit up in the bed, too weak to be successful but trying his best.

" Son, if you keep this up you will have danged pneumonia. You're as stubborn and mule-headed as your father." Sam chastised the man who he thought of as his own grandson.

" Just want to sit up, and get fresh...air." , he panted as his struggle continued. He wanted out of this room and away from Lancer and away from Sam, who had more needles than he had patience.

"You can't go outside, it's too cold. And for getting out of that bed, your body can't even support you yet, it's too weak. And you have a very bad cough!" Sam needed a break, a reprieve, this one on one was great when you had a cooperative patient, but this man was nothing close to being cooperative.

Johnny continued to struggle, managing to get the quilt halfway off his still fevered body. He had to leave, there was no other choice. Sam would understand once he told him why, and Scott would too.

"Johnny, lay down." Murdoch's thunderous voice echoed through the room and his son was caught off guard and his movements ceased.

" Excuse me, Sam, but I need to have a word with my stubborn son." He waved both men from the room, and they were happy to be getting a break, evidenced by the smiles on both men's faces as they exited the room quickly.

" Nothing to say to you...Old man." He couldn't help being disrespectful to the man who had betrayed his mother and him, the hate that had culminated in his heart was palpable in the room.

Murdoch shut the door and walked over to his sick son's bed and took a seat beside him. He nodded his head, he deserved the hate, he deserved more than that for what he had done to his family past and present.

" I deserve your anger, and probably a lot more than what you are giving me right now. And I know that if you were well you would have been long gone. Wouldn't blame you, I have no excuses." Murdoch was finding it difficult to look at his son, to give him eye contact, but he had to, he had to convince him that he was truly sorry.

" You lied." He was feeling too bad physically to yell, and too weak to attempt to punch the man, so simple words for difficult truths is what he chose.

"Yes, son, I lied." He stopped, a memory of Maria confronting him with the same words, the memories of her abuse by the wives of the men he did business with, and how they looked down on her with their pious attitudes. He shook his head and wondered how he could have allowed such hate towards his family.

"She left because of their hate, because..."

A coughing spell hit him and Murdoch reached for the glass of water, noting the tube but offering him a drink instead, holding the glass for him, his son's hands were still too shaky.

After a few sips, he continued, "Because you allowed them to treat her like trash."

Murdoch returned the glass to the table, and took a deep breath, because he knew what he was about to say would probably be the nail in the coffin to his relationship with his son.

"Yes, it was not intentional, but it doesn't matter, I allowed them to treat her like a second-class citizen. I witnessed her tears, her emotional pain and her dislike of the people I associated with in business and socially. I told her it was for our future, it would aid us in getting Scott back from Garrett and give us all a good future." He stood, no longer to look at the anger in his son's face."I was so wrong. It only destroyed our family. I lost everything because of my stubborn attitude."

Johnny, was confused, if his father knew that these men destroyed his family then why did he still associate with them? "It doesn't make sense. You still...are friends." He could feel his body betray him, his weakness making him feel tired and lethargic instead of angry.

"Not friends, it's all about business and keeping Lancer alive. Yeah, I have always placed this land above everything and everyone else and I shouldn't have, because in the end, I lost the things I love the most, the people I love the most. Scott's mother, your mother, and Teresa's father were all lost because of my desire to keep Lancer."

" Was it worth it?" He yawned, his body was just not up to a fight, not today.

" I always thought Lancer had to be first, but after seeing the pain in your eyes a few days ago, I realized that it wasn't my first love anymore. You and Scott are more important to me than all one-hundred thousand acres of Lancer. I love you and Scott more than I ever thought I could possibly love anything or anyone. It took seeing your pain to make me realize what I could lose if I don't change things."

Murdoch looked back at his son who was struggling to keep his eyes open, tears running down his cheek, and he suddenly knew why, he had never told his sons that he loved them, and the emotion on his son's face was proof that he needed to say it more.

Johnny could not help but to allow the tears to fall, it was more than being ill and vulnerable, it was hearing his father say the words, 'I love you'. There was so much pain in his heart and mind right now, but it was being overwhelmed by three simple words, words that he never thought he would hear from his father. It was too much, and he cried, the truth was that his father did what he had to do at the time, right or wrong, good or bad, he did it for his family, yet in the end, it had destroyed the very thing he strived for in creating Lancer.

" I am resigning as President of the Cattlemen's Association, Johnny. I will no longer associate with such single-minded men. Bias and bigotry will no longer be tolerated, we will manage." He smiled at his son and wiped the tears away with his son's face with calloused fingers. " I promise, I will make it up to you and Scott, just give me time. Please."

All the hate and pain seemed to dissolve, he could forgive his father, he could understand to a certain degree but the pain of what could have been would always stay with him and it would be a reminder of what to do in his future with Lancer. He nodded, words weren't necessary.

Murdoch reached down and pulled the quilt up and tucked his son in, watching him drift off to sleep, his still fevered body shivering beneath the blanket. He had a lot to get done before Johnny was up and about. He had a promise to keep. He walked to the door but looked back once more, he loved his sons, and he had to show them how much. He exited the room with work to do, a truth revealed, and desire to love his sons more than he had ever loved them before.

The end (maybe)