Epilogue – A Small Ripple

Letters from Bakersfield

Christmas was only one week away and the Lancer household was in a state the likes of which Johnny Lancer had never seen. And to think, they thought Day Pardee left them with a mess on their hands. Teresa was in full swing. There was nothing left un-glittered, unbowed or undecorated right down to that bird on the bookcase, with some tiny red hat on his head. And then, in every doorway, something called mistletoe. Teresa got the biggest kick out of sneaking up and kissing either him, Scott or Murdoch on the cheek each time they walked under the damn stuff. It was funny at first but now it was just getting plain annoying.

Work at the ranch had settled into a slightly more relaxed pace and the brothers were sent out on an errand. It was Teresa's new custom to prepare Murdoch's favorite shortbread cookies for the entire county, it would seem. And it was Scott and Johnny's job to deliver the neatly bundled stacks. Each one tied with a red or green satin ribbon. It had been Scott's job to hold his finger over the knot to keep it from loosening while Teresa carefully tied the bow.

Their job complete, the boys returned home, feeling happy and hungry. They entered through the kitchen in the hopes of getting a few of the cookies they'd spent all day delivering. Luck was with them and they sauntered into the great room enjoying the sweet treat.

"I don't think she could find room for one more decoration, Scott"

"Why back in Boston, the house would look very much like this, every inch covered. Teresa must be reading those magazines again. At least your room is safe, Brother."

Johnny shot him a deadly stare. "Maybe yours is, Scott."

"She didn't." Scott said in disbelief.

"Oh, yes she did. Watch out, yours may be next."

"John." Murdoch called out from his desk abruptly ending the boy's conversation. They looked at each other. It was a tone both had heard before, but it was one difficult to figure out.

Scott stopped in his tracks. "Think I'll go check my room, make sure…"

"Oh no you don't, Scott," Johnny whispered, figuring this time that tone meant trouble, though he couldn't figure out what he could have possibly done wrong. But, there hadn't been trouble for a while and he was probably due.

"John," Murdoch said again. "I was in town today. Picked up the mail." He held a letter in his hand. "It's from Colonel Baker," He said waving the white paper in the air. "Would you like to hear it? It may be of interest to you."

"Um, doubt it, Murdoch, since I was there and all." He took a few steps backward.

"But I have to tell you, it contains a few very interesting bits of information. Why don't you both sit down?"

"No," Johnny drawled. "Scott was just on his way to his room, weren't ya Scott?"

"But, you asked me to stay. And quite nicely, I might add. It wouldn't be proper, Brother." Scott leaned on the back of the couch and crossed his arms.

"There are actually two letters." Murdoch stood and held them in his hand. "I'll start with this one.

Dear Mr. Lancer,

It has occurred to me that your fellow ranchers may be looking for a response regarding your generosity. Please keep in mind, my assistance was offered un-tethered; therefore no repayment was required or expected. But since your gift was needed by another member of my community your son felt it prudent to offer the entire sum to that family. I whole heartedly agreed.

Not knowing your friends and neighbors I cannot assume they would have agreed with your son's decision. And may have expected the money to be accepted by me or returned. Therefore, I have enclosed a note of thanks for the soul benefit of satisfying the other ranchers. The true recipient will remain our secret.

In regards to your son, I cannot begin to tell you the pleasure seeing him brought to my wife and to me. Slightly more than a year ago, when we last saw him, he was in a great deal of distress, both physical and mental. His leaving was hasty and we feared we would never see him again. Now when we think of John our hearts are light, knowing he has found a home.

It would bring us great satisfaction if we could meet you and your other son, Scott, one day. John speaks highly of you both and he is a superb judge of character. Unfortunately, he was not as proficient in judging his own. But he is now, and that, Sir, is a testament to you and your family.

Thank you for giving us so much to be thankful for during this holiday season. We are all truly blessed.

Yours in friendship,

Colonel Tom Baker"

Both Murdoch and Scott looked at the dark haired man before them. His head was low and he kicked at the toe of one boot with the heel of the other.

"So, it was the man you knew, Johnny." Scott stated matter-of-factly.

Johnny lifted his head with a smile. "And the town, Scott. You don't know one without the other, not in Bakersfield." He turned to his father. "Are we done?"

"No John, I have one more." He unfolded the second letter and began to read.

"Gentlemen and Ranchers of Morro Coyo,

It is with deepest gratitude that I accept your generous gift of One thousand three hundred dollars. The money will go a long way toward maintaining my fields and allowing weary and hungry travelers a safe haven for rest and nourishment. Your kindness will indeed provide the small ripple so many of these souls need to persevere in times of great difficulty.

Appreciatively Yours,

Colonel Thomas Baker"

"The other ranchers should be happy with that, don't you think, Murdoch? They don't need to know what I really did with the money. Now if you don't mind I think I'll…"

"Johnny, I'd like to ask one question. I have many but I'll only ask one." He allowed it to drop to his desk. "There were four ranches that contributed to this gift." He used his fingers for emphasis. "Lancer and three others. Each ranch gave two hundred dollars." Murdoch stood looking at his son.

Scott looked from father to son.

"It would appear the Colonel has thanked us for the wrong amount. Do you know anything about that, Son?"

"Are you sure you counted right, Murdoch? Because I was sure there was more than eight hundred? You must have been mistaken."

"I hardly think so, Son. Five hundred dollars is a rather large mistake, don't you think? I'm not known for being careless with my money, our money. Is there something you'd like to tell us, Son, something about last year? "

"No," Johnny answered. His head was bowed, his arms crossed protectively.

Murdoch sat heavily back into his chair with a sigh. "Perhaps you are right." He worked both letters back into the envelope. "Perhaps I was mistaken after all. I do believe I may have miscalculated the caliber of my own son. Colonel Baker was right. We are all truly blessed."

Turning on his heel Johnny started to walk away.

"One more thing, John."

He released a held breath and dropped his head.

"There is a letter for you upstairs on your bed. Just thought you'd like to know."

"Thanks, Murdoch," he replied with out turning around but changed direction and went up the stairs.

The door clicked as he pressed his back against it and inspected his room. There was no stopping the smile. Teresa managed to tie red ribbons on his bed posts, put a Christmas quilt on his bed and left a bowl of pine cones near the fireplace. He figured he could live with it if it made her happy. And he had to admit, the pine did smell good. Poor Scott, he was the one who got to help gather all the pine cones that filled baskets all over the house. He did it with Teresa, but didn't seem to mind. That was one of the things about Scott. Always willing to do the little things without a sigh or rolling his eyes. Just a 'sure I'll do that' and a smile.

Johnny arranged his pillows against the headboard and sat back examining the letter. Without opening it he knew exactly who it was from. He broke the seal.

Dear Johnny,

Unkl Pete sed it is all rite if I call you Johnny. Ma wood tan me for shure. Supost ta call peepl mistr and the like. Rekon it can be r secret.

We had T-H-A-N-K-S-G-I-V-I-N-G with Unkl Pete and haf the town. Shure was fun. C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S wil be evn bettr. We got a new barn door and the pump and the troff fixt and Ma bot new kurtans. Cain't figr why she cride wen we took the old wuns down but she did. Unkl Pete just shakes his hed and sez wimen.

Its nice havin him around so much. And he cooks reel good. Bettr an Ma but rekon that can be another of r secrets huh Johnny.

U wer rite. R colt is doin just fine. He is reel pritty. He wil be the best horse evr. Wel maybe not as good as yors but mitee close. He got himself a name Johnny. Bet ya can gess you bein so smart and all. Did ya gess yet? His name is Sombra. That's Spanish ya know for shadow. So I got the name I wanted after all and Ma likes it two.

Thanks.

M-E-R-R-Y C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S Johnny

Clay Meese

He sat still for a while reading the letter more than once and smiling. The call to dinner wound its way up the stairs and into his thoughts. It was Scott. His mind drifted back to the day, not all that long ago, the day Scott strode into that saloon in the hopes of saying the right thing. The right string of words that would make all the difference, make his brother come home. He never knew the impact of his words, those right words. The words that told Johnny he was exactly where he belonged, that he'd found home. It was Scott's words, words that made all the difference in the world. 'But when you go you won't even leave a small ripple.'