Chapter 2
Most days Johnny woke before the rest of the family and today was no exception. He stretched in his bed mentally running through the day's plan. Earlier in the week, while Scott and Jelly headed off to Modesto, Johnny assembled a crew and got to work clearing out the underbrush and small trees in the first section. It was his goal to have three wagons ready for the exchange. In the future the plan was to have five loads per week.
In fact, each wagon should bring top dollar. Once the brush was cleared, his crew had concentrated on loading only the mid-sized trees, like the ones Scott mentioned over dinner. Figuring smaller ones could be cut for their own firewood and larger trees should remain standing both for leveraging the heavy logs now and providing much needed shade later.
Men from Central Pacific Railroad were expected to arrive this afternoon and with the way things were going, they should have their final wagon fully loaded in plenty of time for the swap. Johnny was grateful the railroad bellied up for this part of the job. Lancer was working on a short string as it was, without having to send men off delivering lumber.
Everything was coming together, which both pleased and surprised all three Lancers. After the difficult survey, there was little hope for a smooth operation. But here it was, Friday, and if things continued as they had, the first week would go off without a hitch.
Climbing out of bed he moved quickly to dress in the chilled morning air. All this thought of firewood and his hearth was bare. Never would have happened if Jelly were here. Guess he'd have to remember to load up before bed tonight.
He moved past Scott's room and noticed his door open. For the briefest moment, he toyed with the idea of waking him but decided against it. It was much too early, still being dark, and after being away few things felt better than your own bed. Johnny found comfort in those words, your own bed, words that for so long meant nothing and now swung a lot of weight. Words that made him realize how far he'd come over the years.
He moved on, down the backstairs and into the kitchen. It was cold, dark and empty. There was no chance of getting a hot cup of coffee to start the day, and he wasn't about to take the time to make some. He needed to get the men moving, another job that usually fell on Jelly's shoulders. Damn he missed the old codger. At least Scott was back. He'd missed him too, but for entirely different reasons. What he missed with Scott had little to do with what he did, but almost for what he didn't do. He didn't lecture and he didn't criticize, leastwise not in a way that left a man feeling foolish. He listened and talked things through. It was the talking he missed. Though their takin' time wasn't what it used to be, what with Willie in the picture, but that was more than OK. He liked Willie and liked what she did for his brother.
Stepping outside and into the sting of cold morning air brought his mind quickly back to task. Rubbing his hands together he blew on them sending a puff of silvered breath into the air. He peered into the darkness, only the faint outline of the bunk house was visible. With resolve, he pressed his hat firmly onto his head before stepping off the porch.
It would be a while before they saw the sun, if they saw it at all, today. Thick clouds had rolled in during the night, bringing the threat of a late winter rain. Getting a head start on the day was a good idea, made all the better by it being the request of the crew. Yesterday, after a long day of work, they made sure Johnny knew what they wanted. And what they wanted, was to call it quits – early - and get a jump on their Friday night.
Johnny had no problem with an early day then and was more pleased now. As long as the job planned was the job done. To make that happen, the men had been warned. If they wanted their fun then the day would start extra early and that meant before sunrise. It had been his intention to tell Scott during dinner but the conversation took an unexpected turn, and by the time he remembered he was warm in bed and bone tired.
Entering the bunkhouse he was met with ear breaking snores and the stink of men who'd eaten too many beans mixed with the sweat of hard work. Another thing Jelly was good for, feeding the men something other than beans. These sounds and smells always brought him back to another life, when a dozen or more men would share a tent or a shack before heading out to bust a few heads or burn a few barns. A life, like most, filled with some good and some bad. It was the bad he hoped none of these men, he called friend, would ever know firsthand.
He jostled Stu awake and signaled for him to get the rest of the men moving. His signals also made it clear that Stu was to allow their newest addition to sleep in. This kid was Scott's problem, and he was not welcome on a job as dangerous as this one, not with the trouble he caused in Spanish Wells yesterday. The ranch hand obliged and the men assembled quickly and without the customary grumbling.
Darkness and silence followed the men as they moved out. By the time they'd traveled under the arch the silence was broken. One by one each man became less groggy and the grumbling began. First about it being so damn cold, then their need for coffee, next the fact the sun wasn't up yet, then they conveniently forgot why they were starting so early. Secretly enjoying their discomfort, Johnny rode along in silence.
Gradually, their moods changed as their bodies warmed, and by the time they crested the hill, approaching their destination, most of the men were busy planning who, or what they would do in town tonight. The usual jokes about needin' a bath and which lady would entertain which cowboy and why gave way to a new buzz, the faro table at Green River's Painted Lady Saloon. Most played last Friday, except for a couple of green kids, and they were all anxious to try their luck again.
Stu, being the loudest, boasted of his luck. "If you gents want, I can show ya how it's done. Maybe then you can walk away smiling too."
"Shit Stu, the only thing that leaves me smilin' is that red hot mama, what's her name? No matter, don't call her anything but 'My God'. Damn the things she does to me. All that game is, is dumb luck. You ain't got nothing' to teach any of us. Ain't that right Johnny?"
"Yea, Stu. Charlie's speakin' the truth. The fact is, that dealer might be settin' you up to reel you in like a sucker. Don't know many faro banks that are on the up and up."
"Hey now, I know when I'm bein' cheated and that ain't how it happened. Some folk won and some folk lost, but me, I was the big winner."
"If you say so, Stu. If you say so."
"When you gonna try your hand at it Johnny?"
"Not till I'm sure his box ain't rigged. Hell, even if he was Doc Holiday himself, I'd be worried about the take. This banker can't be trusted till he proves he can be trusted."
"Oh, Johnny, just come into town with us tonight and give the 'ole tiger's tale a twist. Who knows, ya just might walk outta there a rich man."
"I'd rather sit at a table, feel the cards in my fingers, and know they ain't been snipped or creased. And nothing beats trying to figure out if the man on the other side of the table is really holdin' a full house of a pile of shit. That's gamblin' to me, not this blind luck crap."
"Well, I ain't no good at bluffin'. You know that, Johnny."
Johnny smiled. "Yea, Stu, I know that. Shit, I knew that before you did, which is why you owe me, what is it, Stu? Fifteen dollars? Come to think of it, if you won so big last week, how come ya didn't pay me?"
"Sorry, 'bout that, Johnny, must a slipped my mind."
"Now, Stu. I can't even see your face, and I know you're bluffin' me. You didn't actually think I'd forget about it, did you?"
"It was worth a shot, Johnny. I'll pay up as soon as we reach camp."
~*~*~*~*~
Scott had left his bedroom door open upon going to bed in the hopes of waking early. He wanted to talk to Johnny first thing in the morning about his idea and hoped his brother would agree. Unfortunately, it wasn't his brother that woke him. It was the repeated cries from Maria that penetrated Scott's sleep.
"¡Mi cocina! Mi cocina! ¿Qué usted ha hecho a mi cocina?"
She was yelling at someone about her kitchen. Only they weren't matching her scream for scream. Therefore, it was not Teresa, because Teresa was known to give as good as she got. It took a few moments for his head to separate dreams from reality, and once it did Scott bolted from his bed. "Remy," he said in a half whisper.
"¡Salga! ¡Salga! Mi calidad, tal lío."
More shouting traveled up to Scott's room. With unusual speed, he pulled on his clothes. Hopping down the hall he yanked on his boots and thundered down the back stairs.
"¡Salga de mi cocina, ahora! "
Rushing into the room he came face to face with a spoon wielding Maria. Having just missed Remy, all he caught sight of was the bottom of the young man's boot on its way out the door.
"¡Y estancia hacia fuera!" Maria said, slamming her spoon on the table. "Ay yi yi! Tal lío, me tomará todo el dia para limpiar." Scott didn't understand her words but had a pretty good idea what she meant as she moved about the kitchen seemingly unaware of her audience. Her words were directed inward as she roamed, picking up bowls and spoons and towels. When she reached the stove she leaned over the pan and sniffed. "Hmph." Stirring it with her spoon she tasted it. Starting with a scowl her features gradually relaxed, giving way to a barely noticeable smile and a favorable nod. Looking up she finally noticed Scott standing in the back doorway then turned to follow his gaze only to find both Murdoch and Teresa in the main entrance.
She stood tall and smoothed her skirt. "Breakfast is almost ready." Controlled anger meant the return of her English. She reached for the coffee pot. "Coffee?"
"Yes, Maria, coffee sounds good." Murdoch spoke as he strode across the kitchen and pulled several mugs from the shelf. He looked about for one uncluttered spot to set them down, upon finding none, he held out each mug for Maria to fill.
"Would you like some help, Maria?" Teresa asked, accepting her coffee from Murdoch. Amusement and pity were both evident on her face.
"Si, Teresa, after you eat."
With coffee in hand Scott stepped outside. Daybreak had brought a chill and the threat of rain. Low clouds clung to the mountains, dissolving their peaks into grey mist. Hands wrapped snug around his mug, he took a sip and went in search of his young friend. The poor boy had encountered more than his share of anger in the past twenty four hours. For some reason, Scott thought he might be used to it. He found him in the bunkhouse lying on his made bed, the only made bed in the room. His hands were tucked behind his head, eyes staring at the bunk above and his feet crossed at the ankles. His boots had been removed and placed side by side near the door.
Moving to sit at the foot of the bed, Scott spoke. "Maria was impressed with your breakfast once she calmed down enough to give it a try. Don't imagine that surprises you." Scott nodded as he took another sip of coffee. "Even your coffee is good. You have a gift young man."
There was no reaction from Remy.
"Perhaps you could learn to be a bit neater. It might make things easier for you."
"Never needed to do the spit and polish. That was always my sister's job. Guess I better learn or give up on cooking all together."
"So, you have a sister? Why aren't you with her now?"
Remy shrugged. "Just ain't is all. No one reason in particular, things get kind of complicated sometimes."
Scott dropped his head and found himself focusing on a knot in the wooden floor. Complicated. He knew complicated and he also knew it was not always something easy to put into words, especially with a relative stranger. Perhaps when they were better acquainted, maybe then. "From what I understand there is a mighty fine breakfast waiting for us and I, for one, am very hungry. Care to join us?"
"No thank you, Mr. Lancer, it is for you and your family. The only way I had to thank you for your kindness, just backfired a bit."
"We need to get a few things straight, Remy. First off, my name is Scott and my brother is Johnny. Mr. Lancer is our father and there are very few people that even call him Mister. Usually people he doesn't like. Second, the only way your thank you will backfire is if you are not there to accept the accolades. Do I make myself clear?"
"Well, sort of. What are those acco, accolades I'm supposed to accept?"
Laughing, Scott swiped Remy's feet off the bed. "Praise, my dear boy, praise. Now come along because, I must warn you, I tend to get bad-tempered when I'm hungry. And to be honest I think you've experienced enough bad temper to last through next week."
TBC
