Chapter Two
Scott felt rather than saw the arch as he passed beneath it. The rain was coming down in torrents, whipped by the fierce cold winds howling down from the High Sierras. It took all his strength to stay in the saddle. If Johnny was still out in this…he pushed the thought from his mind. His hardheaded, obstinate brother was probably already home, snuggled in a warm bed and being catered to hand and foot by Teresa and Maria. At least he hoped he was.
He let Charlemagne have his head, the horse wanted to be home as badly as Scott, and didn't realize they had made it back until the lights from inside the house dimly flickered through the sheet of rain.
A blast of heat hit him in the face as he opened the door. The warmth soothed his freezing body but did nothing to ease the cold fear he felt in his heart. He shucked his raingear and walked into the great room.
Scott didn't have to ask the question, the answer was on each face standing near the fireplace. The looks of expectant hope died as they read the failure in his eyes.
"I rode three miles past the south boundary then west, I didn't see a thing."
Murdoch nodded. He poured a glass of bourbon and handed it to Scott. "Warm your belly, Son."
"I take it no one else had any luck."
"I found the buckboard at the junction," Murdoch said. "Horse was gone. There's no telling if the stage was through there or not. There's nothing but mud out there. I can't see how Gabe could get that coach all the way to Stockton in this weather."
"We don't even know if the stage left Morro Coyo this morning. If Johnny's out there alone…" Teresa let the thought trail off. they all knew the answer. She felt Maria's strong arm tug her closer to the old woman. Maria's chico was out there. Maybe not of her flesh and blood, but he was of her heart.
Jelly harrumphed, jutting his whiskered chin out. "Well I fer one thinks that Johnny met that stage with Sam on it, and they're holed up somewhere until this storm blows over."
"Where?" Scott asked. A little hope to cling to was better than the gnawing pain of no hope.
"Gabe knows about them line shacks, if he made fer one of those he could ride out this storm nice an' cozy. There's enough provisions to last three or four people a few days."
Scott nodded and walked over to the window to look at the sheet of rain cascading down the glass. He would take Jelly's idea and nurture it. He could not face the long dark night ahead thinking of the alternative.
***
Sam stood up slowly and stretched his tired back. Between falling asleep in the chair and yesterday's coach ride, his joints were as stiff as a board. He was no longer a young man. He'd known that for years, between the mirror over his washstand and the ache in his joints, but never had he felt as weary as he did these past three months. Both his mind and body seemed to weigh him down until he could barely move.
"Here." Mabel pushed a steaming cup of coffee into his hands. "It's got a little extra something in it to warm you up. Gabe says it's only for medicinal purposes, of course."
"Of course." Sam sipped at the doctored coffee gratefully. "Tell Dr. Gabe thank you."
Mabel laughed. "I'll be sure to tell him that. He went out to check the horses and see if he can find a rabbit or two. He says we could be here for a few days."
Sam nodded, then looked down at Johnny. The boy's fever was high, too high. Disappointing since he seemed to rally just a few hours ago. But Johnny had been ill for such a long time now, and pneumonia was inevitable once he left his warm bed at Lancer.
The sound of the rain continued to pound on the roof and he wondered if it would ever stop.
"I wish we could get word to Murdoch that Johnny was with us. They must be out of their minds with worry."
"I'm sure they are. But Gabe said he would take one of the horses and ride out as soon as the roads are passable."
A chair leg scraped across the floor and Sam looked over to see Arlene sitting near the stove, her hands busy rolling lengths of bandaging into a neat pile in a basket at her feet.
"You two aren't very close." He thought, then realized he had said the words out loud.
"No. I haven't see Arlene in ten years. She wasn't always this cynical. I don't think she has been a happy woman for a lot of years. Being married to wealth is not always the answer to happiness."
"And you?"
"We grew up together in Philly. She married Jonas Hamilton more than twenty years ago. I was certain I was destined to die an old spinster until Archibald Roland came into town. Arch was the biggest, meanest man I had ever met, to everyone but me. He treated me like a princess. When he asked me to marry him and move to Kansas, I didn't have to think twice. Arlene was livid, she couldn't believe I would leave the comfort of the city for the wilds of Kansas, or her, especially for the likes of Arch. I don't think she ever forgave me for it. But I did and never regretted it for one day."
"And your husband?"
"He died two years ago, rest his soul. Heart just gave out. I can still see him, smiling at me across the table. I had fixed him chicken stew and cornbread for dinner that night, he always liked my cornbread, then he just slumped over as if he went to sleep."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Sam said softly.
"I am too. But life goes on, and Arch would want me to move on. When Arlene said she was going to spend some time in San Francisco and asked if I would go along with her I said yes. I have some big decisions to make. The farm is getting awfully hard to run by myself. Not that I don't have good men working for me, it's just a lot of paperwork and…"
"And memories."
Mabel nodded. "Them too."
She leaned over and brushed the hair back from Johnny's forehead. "He smiles a lot, doesn't he?"
The question caught Sam by surprise. "Yes."
"I thought so. See the tiny lines around his eyes? Laugh lines. My Arch had those same lines, made me feel light as a feather when he'd turn that big smile my way." She leaned down closer, gently stroking Johnny's cheek. "Come on, Johnny, let me see that smile."
Johnny moaned softly, his face turning into her hand just a little, as if Mabel's touch brought him comfort.
"Ah, this boy is a heartbreaker. But I gotta ask, Sam. I have never seen so many scars on a body before. Bullet wounds, knife wounds…someone took a whip to his back."
Sam nodded. "He's led a hard life." No one really knew how hard. Johnny was still guarded about his past. There were enough pieces of the puzzle to put together the ugly picture of his growing up. But the details, he kept those close to his heart, as if knowing them would turn everyone against him. Mabel saw the laugh lines, but he had been witness to the deep sorrow and the guilt Johnny carried in his heart. Too much for someone so young.
Squaring his shoulders, Sam put away those thoughts. It was Johnny's story to tell if he wanted Mabel or anyone else to know, then he would tell them. "We have to wake him up, get him to cough."
Mabel laid a lingering hand on his arm. "He'll make it, Sam. He's a fighter. I can tell."
Somehow Mabel's words did not sound like empty platitudes.
With a small glimmer of hope where there was just emptiness before, Sam handed Mabel an extra pillow. "We will need to do this once an hour to keep his lungs from filling up with any more fluid. I can give him morphine for the pain, but no laudanum, that will only keep him asleep. Are you ready?"
Mabel nodded, pressing the pillow against Johnny's chest as Sam lifted him into a sitting position.
"Come on Johnny, you have to cough for us…" Mabel coaxed.
Sam gently guided Johnny's head forward until the boy was resting against his shoulder. "You know you have to do this," Sam said. "Just two coughs and we'll let you rest again."
"It hurts…" Johnny whispered.
"I know, John." Sam looked at Johnny's right leg, bandaged after he had to cut away more of the infection that was determined not to let go. "I know. I'll give you something to help with the pain."
Sam felt Johnny's shoulders stiffen and hastily added, "No laudanum, I promise, Johnny. Just something to help ease the pain. It won't even put you to sleep."
Johnny seemed to accept the answer and Sam could feel Johnny shudder just a moment before two small coughs jolted his body.
"That's fine, John…just fine," he said as he eased Johnny back onto the mound of pillows. Sam watched as Johnny slid back into an exhausted sleep.
Sam sighed deeply. "As long as we can get him to cough every hour, he has a chance."
"Then," Mabel said, pulling the blanket up over Johnny's shoulders, "that is what we will do. But for now you need some rest too. Arlene, come over here."
Arlene looked up from her bandage rolling, startled that she would be asked to do something.
"Come over here and keep watch. I'm going to see that Sam here has something to eat and gets some rest."
"But…" Arlene stood up slowly, her hands clutching at a half rolled strip of a petticoat sacrificed for bandages.
"You just watch him. We are right here if you need us."
Arlene reluctantly took the seat vacated by Sam and her eyes fell on Johnny.
She hadn't really looked at him before. Didn't want to. He was just another cowboy in this dreadful land. Why had she left Philadelphia? She was safe there, surrounded by her servants and her friends. Her husband was there in name only, they had not shared a bed in years, but that was fine with her. But she had become bored of late and wanted to see something new. San Francisco seemed like the perfect place. If she had not detoured to Kansas to meet her sister and then, foolishly, sent her traveling companion back to Philadelphia, she would be wining and dining at this very moment in one of San Francisco's most posh hotels.
Instead she was stuck in this God-forsaken shack with a man who looked like he was one step away from heaven or hell…whichever way he was destined to go, and her sister who was enjoying playing Florence Nightingale with an old doctor and a stage driver who had not taken a bath in several years.
Well, the stage lines would hear about this. There would be repercussions. Arlene Cambridge would not be treated like some low life pauper.
With an indignant harrumph, she crossed her arms beneath the fancy lace of her too-tight bodice and waited for Mabel to return.
But for some reason she could not keep her eyes from drifting back to the young man lying in the bed beside her chair. She found herself studying him. Unruly black hair, as black as coal, framed a face that was much younger than she had first thought. He was no more then twenty, maybe twenty-two. Equally dark eyelashes touched the dark circles of illness or pain beneath his eyes. The doctor said he had been ill for several months. A stab of concern touched her heart and she pushed it away quickly. Concern was not an emotion condoned by her rich society friends.
Still she continued to study him. In his fevered state, the young man had somehow pushed the blankets off his chest revealing a too thin torso, but it also revealed scars, some merely shadows they were so old, and some still dark and raised. How could someone so young have so many scars? What was this boy's life like?
She noticed the ring he wore on his middle finger, an unusual style, something she would not have expected to see on a cowboy's hand, then she shuddered at the sound of a small gasp and looked up to see the bluest eyes staring at her.
"Thirsty…" Johnny whispered, his hand creeping up toward the black feeding tube snaking down his cheek.
"I'll get your doctor friend," Arlene said, her voice catching in her throat. She saw his fingers curl around the tube, slowly pulling on it.
"No!" she grabbed his hand. "Leave it alone. It's there to help you."
"Out…" Johnny said, his voice so low she could hardly hear it.
"Mabel!" she called, her fear rising. She never dealt with the sick. They were treated in rooms away from her; there was never a need for her to become involved. "Mabel, please. He's awake."
"And so he is…" Mabel's hand snaked past Arlene's shoulder and easily pried the boy's hand free of the tube, gently forcing his arm down to his side while pulling the covers back over his chest.
"He says he's thirsty," Arlene offered.
"I'm sure he is." Mabel walked around to the other side of the bed, held a cup up to Johnny's lips, and let him sip at it. "Your mouth must be dry as the desert. My name is Mabel, and this here is my sister, Arlene. We seem to be stuck here in one of your line shacks until the weather lets up a bit."
"Sam?" Johnny asked, his eyes not wavering from Mabel's.
"He's resting in one of the other bunks. He's one tired man. But I guess you know that…or you wouldn't be here."
Johnny slid his eyes closed, a slight blush of embarrassment touching his already fevered cheeks.
Arlene bounded from the chair, but Mabel caught her arm, forcing her to stay next to the bed.
"He all right?" Johnny asked.
Mabel nodded. "He's doing ok, and he'll be doing a lot better when he finds that you're doing better. Gabe caught a rabbit earlier, and I make a mean rabbit stew, you think you could take a sip or two of broth?"
Johnny nodded.
"Good. Rabbit stew coming right up. Arlene will keep you company while I get you a cup." Mabel pushed Arlene back down into the chair. "Now, you go easy on her, she's from back East and ain't used to no slick whippersnappers like you."
A smile touched the laugh lines around Johnny's eyes. "I'll be gentle," he breathed.
"Ah, ya see," Mabel said, gently drawing her hand over his cheek. "I knew you were a heartbreaker."
Mabel moved away from the bed, surprised to see Arlene's fingers snake across the mattress and touch Johnny's shoulder. Concern was a new emotion for her sister. Perhaps he was just the one to break through the wall of selfishness that had surrounded Arlene for far too many years.
She listened to the rain pelting the roof, and she wondered if they were not all sent here to learn two of God's most basic lessons. Love and humility.
One thing she knew for sure, no one would leave this cabin the same as they entered.
***
Thunder continued to rumble over the small shack, nearly shaking it to its very foundation. Again and again lightening streaked across the sky, flickering through the windows. It seemed that the storm would nearly pass over them, only to return again and again as if bouncing back off the high Sierra peaks.
Mabel set the medicines back down on the make-shift nightstand and massaged her back. She was not as young as she used to be. A small smile twitched at the corner of her lips, but it didn't stop that quirky little feeling she had in the pit of her stomach as she stood next to Sam Jenkins while he tended to his patient.
The gentle way he coaxed Johnny to wake, and endure the painful coughing that was so important to the boy's recovery convinced her just how close those two were. Words were just words, and Sam could have easily painted an exaggerated picture of his affection for Johnny, but the proof was here, for all to see.
Johnny seemed to have stabilized for the time being, thanks to the steady repetition of medications…two drops of tincture of aconite every hour through the nasal tube to lower his fever, followed by two teaspoons of antimony infused in the tube each hour to lessen the pain, since laudanum suppressed the respiratory system. Hot compresses were applied to his leg to help drain the infection away from the wound.
Mabel remembered Sam's relief as he opened the small locker on the floor of the pantry when they first arrived, pulling out the chest containing a full supply of bandages and medicines needed for any emergency that might befall the Lancer hands.. Sam had told her how Teresa, still in her teens, had grown to become a fine nurse and carefully kept watch over the supplies in the shacks. Now it appeared that Teresa's forethought may have saved her brother's life.
The locker contained a treasure trove of medicines and herbs. Mabel quickly made a mustard poultice for Johnny's chest and a kettle had been heated on the pot-bellied stove with Menthol crystals added to the steam to loosen the congestion in Johnny's lungs.
"We need your assistance again," Sam called to Arlene.
Arlene looked up, knowing what was required of her, and dreading it. Despite the abhorrent conditions she found herself in, and the company which she would never have sought out on her own, she could not dismiss the need to help the young man.
A blinding flash of lightening, followed almost immediately by a tremendous clap of thunder, froze her in her tracks. How much more could this poor excuse for a shelter handle?
She heard Johnny's halting voice, quarrelsome and short-tempered, between claps of thunder and the steady drum of rain on the roof, as Sam and Mabel gently pulled him into a sitting position. He had been through this exercise twice already and knew how painful it would be. But it was necessary and Arlene quickly stacked two pillows on his lap while Sam and Mabel forced him to lean forward, his head resting on his arms as Sam began a deep massage of his back. With sweeping upward strokes to lift his ribcage, Johnny would hopefully cough up the thick fluid in his lungs.
Arlene could only hold his arms down and stroke his hair, feeling his whole body tremble as Sam continued to apply the upward pressure until he was satisfied that Johnny had cleared his lungs enough for now. They would repeat the painful process again in a few hours until Johnny could breath normally again.
Setting him back on the pillows so Johnny was propped up in a semi-sitting position, Mabel began to wipe down his sweaty face and chest before applying another mustard poultice.
Exhausted by the ordeal herself, Arlene never the less stayed at Johnny's side and held his hand. Why, she couldn't understand. He was everything that she so fervently avoided. Just another rough and uncivilized cowboy like all the rest here in this part of the country. But there was something different about Johnny Lancer, and she could only attribute it to the kindness in his eyes as he looked at Sam, somehow letting the old doctor know, without words, that none of this was his fault.
With the tumultuous storm raging around them, Johnny's eyes slid closed again, and Arlene quietly walked back to her seat next to the old stove, the fear of the storm tempered by a new feeling, concern for a young man she didn't even know.
Mabel continued to stroke Johnny's hair, soothing him with words too faint for anyone but Johnny to hear. And Sam, his hand clasped around Johnny's, sat beside him, the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"You're doing the best you can," Mabel said, reaching across Johnny to pat Sam's hand, "and so far it's working. He's still with us. His fever hasn't gotten any higher and his breathing hasn't worsened since this afternoon. He's fighting as hard as you are."
Sam shook his head, his worry pulling him toward complete exhaustion. It was true, Johnny was holding on, but for how much longer? It seemed that he had been holding on by his fingertips since Maggie had started her campaign.
"He needs a real house. No matter what we do, we can't keep the cold drafts out of this shack. God knows how long this roof is going to hold up." As if a demonstration were needed, the roof creaked ominously. "He should be home in his own bed, being fussed over by Teresa and Maria."
"Well, he's not," Mabel said, a sudden edge to her voice. "He's here. And you're just going to have to make the best of it. He needs you, Sam. But I don't think that's why he's here."
Sam looked over at her, puzzled.
"Think about it. No matter how much he disliked that new doctor of yours, he knew he was getting the care he needed. You said so yourself, the surgery on his leg was excellent, and would have worked if Johnny hadn't high tailed it from home. No, I think he came looking for you because he knew you needed him."
Sam looked down at Johnny, the boy's breathing still too labored. It was the truth, of course. It was exactly what Johnny would have done. He closed his eyes; he couldn't handle another ounce of guilt.
"If you're heaping more guilt on yourself, don't," Mabel warned. "You won't be helping that boy. He needs you, all of you. Not just the part that isn't wallowing in guilt and self-pity."
Sam snapped his head up. "How dare you," he fumed. "How dare you pass judgment on me. You don't know anything about what happened."
"Listen to me, Sam." Mabel gently squeezed Johnny's hand in hers, feeling the heat of fever in his languid fingers. Just an hour ago she had bathed his face, promising he would be all right soon. But that's not what the boy had wanted to hear. He wanted to know that Sam was all right. What kind of life had this boy led that left so may scars on the outside yet allowed him to feel such compassion for others on the inside? "It's perfectly normal to feel guilt. It's what keeps us honest, keeps us human. But it has to stop at some point. It's time you left the guilt behind. You have grabbed onto it because it protects you from other feelings. What is it that you are really running away from, Sam?"
Sam stood up, his legs wobbling. The truth was hard to hear. It was so much easier to run away. When had be become such a coward? He looked down at Mabel, her hand gently holding Johnny's. Who was this woman who could she see straight through him?
The rain slowed for a moment, the wind dying down to a soft whistle. Sam and Mabel looked toward the ceiling. Was this the end of the storm? But all hopes were dashed when the rain began to batter the roof with renewed force, and the wind howled like a living creature.
The door suddenly flew open and Gabe was pushed inside by a gust of wind so strong it nearly sent him to his knees. With all his strength he shoved the door closed with his shoulder, the floor dripping wet around him.
"Damn it," Gabe's voice shook. "Don't get much worse than this. That barn out there ain't gonna make it."
"The horses?" Mabel asked.
"I set 'em loose. They have a better chance on their own."
An uneasiness filled the cabin. They all knew any hope of getting out of this line shack alive seemed to shrink away with the growing fury of the storm.
***
Scott slammed his hand against the windowsill as the wind and rain continued to assault the estancia, and mud and water rose at an alarming rate in the courtyard. Unable to take another minute of waiting, despite the weather and the flooding, he headed purposefully toward the front door.
"Where are you going?" Murdoch demanded, rushing up to catch his son.
"I can't sit around here doing nothing. If Jelly is right, Johnny's in that line shack."
"And if he is?"
Another streak of lightning lit up the sky outside, flickering in through the windows as a false dusk descended over the land. Thunder rumbled over them, rolling away in the distance, only to be followed by another powerful explosion of light and sound.
"Son, I want to go after Johnny as much as you do," he said, grabbing hold of Scott's arm. "But only a fool would take an animal out in weather like this. If you don't get hit by lightning then your horse could break a leg. It's too dangerous. We have to wait." Murdoch looked out over the muddy courtyard, knowing the entire valley was mired in thick mud.
Scott yanked his arm free, knowing Murdoch's words were true, but it didn't ease the pain of knowing that Johnny was out there. "I don't know if that line shack can hold up under weather like this."
"If Johnny met the stage, then he's with Sam and Gabe. Gabe's been through storms like this before, he'll know what to do."
"If…" Scott spat. "If he made it to the road in time to meet the stage…if he didn't pass out somewhere out there in the middle of nowhere…if…"
"Scott, you'll drive yourself crazy thinking like this. There's nothing we can do now except pray that he did make it to the stage and that they are all safe. As soon as the storm lets up and it's safe to travel, we'll go looking for him. Scott…" Murdoch grabbed Scott's arm again, pulling him around to look into his eyes. "I'll be damned if I'll take the chance of losing another son in this storm."
Another earsplitting clap of thunder exploded overhead, seemingly taunting them.
They stood silently as the darkness closed in around them. The sound of swishing skirts drew Scott's attention to Teresa and Maria as they began to light the oil lamps and candles against the hungry darkness.
"We never should have left Johnny alone," Murdoch suddenly growled. "We should have known he would pull a stupid stunt like this."
Scott shook his head. "We couldn't have known he would do this. That he was even physically capable of getting out of bed and out the front door."
"Damn it, he never thinks about himself. When will he realize that we care? That when he hurts, we hurt. He had no right to leave like that. To make us worry. What makes him think…"
"He wasn't thinking. He was doing. Sir, that has been the hardest thing to understand and accept. That Johnny acts on his feeling, the consequences be damned."
Silence descended once again over the great room as both men looked out at the turbulent sky. There would be no sleep tonight, just a long vigil, waiting for the storm to weaken enough for them to set out after Johnny.
***
Johnny felt like he was drowning. His heart raced, his chest heaved trying to draw air into his starving lungs. It was insufferably hot, too hot to breathe. The air was filled with the sound of thunderous explosions. "Madre de Dios," he cried silently," where am I?"
He tried to think, to remember…he saw Sam, standing in the middle of a street he didn't recognize, his jacket off, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, what was he doing? His medical bag lay open on the ground next to his foot, instruments and medicines scattered in the dirt. Blood…there was blood on his shirt, over his heart. Johnny looked for a bullet hole, a knife wound, but nothing marred his shirt but that ever widening swatch of blood, seeping down his chest.
A storm broiled overhead, lightning streaking between ominous black clouds, thunder rumbling closer until the ground shook beneath them.
"Sam…?" he called, but there was no answer. Sam looked at him with eyes so sad that it was almost too painful to look at.
Johnny tried to stand, but a dagger of pain shot through his right leg and he crumbled back to the ground.
Trying to draw air into his throbbing chest he began to crawl toward Sam.
"NO!" Sam yelled, the blood soaking his shirt with alarming speed. "I'm sorry. I failed you, as a doctor and as a friend."
"No you didn't," Johnny yelled, desperation in his voice. "You never failed me. Not me or anyone else."
"Especially you, John, the one who needed me most. Please forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive…" Johnny tried to reach out for Sam but his strength gave out and he collapsed on the ground, rolling onto his back, his arms outstretched. The storm moved in over them and he could see the clouds drifting down to engulf Sam.
"No!" Johnny screamed, helpless to stop the monstrous storm from wrapping itself around Sam. He watched as Sam disappeared and he was left alone as the storm folded into itself and vanished.
Johnny felt the pain of loss and he began to choke on the bitterness of it. Sam was lost to him…
***
"Sit him up!" Sam yelled, "He's choking."
Mabel grabbed Johnny's arms, pulling him forward against her chest, feeling the boy's body convulse as a fit of coughing suddenly left him gagging on the secretions from his lungs. Arlene grabbed a towel and held it under Johnny chin.
Sam hit him hard in the center of his back, "Come on, John, cough it up. Come on, damn it, cough…"
The storm rampaged around them as a storm of another kind rampaged inside the shack. Sam hit Johnny in the back again and again. Mabel grabbed a pillow and wedged it between herself and Johnny's chest, pushing the pillow up against his ribcage to increase the effects of Sam's blows. Finally Johnny coughed and spit up the obstruction. Still gasping for air, Sam eased the boy back on the pillows and accepted the cool, damp towel Arlene offered to wipe Johnny's face.
Johnny looked up at Sam, his eyes filled with terror. "Don't leave me," he gasped, his voice barely audible.
"I won't," Sam promised. "I won't."
Still gasping to get air into his lungs, Johnny's strength ran out and his eyes slid closed.
"Is Johnny gonna be all right?" Gabe asked, shuffling nervously in front of the cot.
Mabel saw the stricken look on Sam's face and quickly walked over to Gabe, pulling him away from the bed. "That boy is a fighter, Gabe, he's gonna be just fine."
Sam sat down, still holding Johnny's hand, Mabel's words ringing in his ears. Johnny would be all right. He had to be…
***
Darkness fell over the small cabin and one lone oil lantern lit the room. Hour after hour the storm howled outside. Sam took shifts with Mabel and Arlene as they gave Johnny his medication and watched as he fought against his own storm. Just before dusk the storm seemed to blow itself out. Only a steady light rain continued to fall. The quiet following the deafening roar of the storm left everyone on edge. As dawn finally lightened the sky the survivors got their first look at the damage.
The barn had collapsed, all but the roof submerged in thick mud. The shack stood like an island in an ocean of water and mud. The stagecoach was mired in mud up to the top of the wheels.
"My Lord," Arlene gasped. "What are we going to do? How are we going to get out of here?"
"There ain't no getting outta here until someone comes ta get us. And that'll be a day or two 'fore they can get through this water," Gabe said.
In unison all eyes went to Johnny as he lay quietly on the cot.
Mabel cleared her throat. "Well, this is no time to start feeling sorry for ourselves. We made it though one hell of a storm, now all we have to do is sit back and wait. We've got food and we've got water. And we've got plenty of medicine for Johnny here…so I think we just thank God and our lucky stars that we made it and start getting ourselves organized."
Sam walked back to the chair sitting next to the bed and sank down on the hard seat, his body aching from exhaustion, both physical and mental. He leaned forward and checked Johnny's forehead for fever. It seemed to have gone down a bit. His breathing was less labored. If they were lucky, Johnny may have turned the corner. Only time would tell now.
He felt Mabel at his side and her gentle, but strong arms wrapped around him and eased him over to the cot beside Johnny's.
"We can watch over Johnny while you get some sleep. It won't be long before that young man will have some very hard questions for you. You owe it to both of you to be strong enough to give him the answers he needs. Now rest, we'll take good care of him."
Sam could only nod and allow Mabel to direct him like a child. He needed her…more than she would ever know.
As Mabel pulled a blanket over Sam's shoulders his eyes slid closed and he fell into a deep sleep with the knowledge that Johnny still needed him and this time he would be there for his patient, and more importantly, he would be there for his friend.
***
Mabel let Sam sleep as long as she could. Sitting next to Johnny's bed, she listened to the rain tapping on the roof, dripping from roofline, splattering into the mud, watching the young man flinch his head ever so slightly, disturbed by pain or a nightmare. She feared they would lose him. He had gotten worse instead of better since they brought him here to the shack. She worried mostly about how it would affect Sam. If Johnny died then Sam would too, she had no doubt about that. She shook her head sadly. They were so close now, they only needed time to talk.
She gently shook Sam awake. "It's time for Johnny's massage."
***
"Come on Johnny, I know this hurts, but it's got to be done. Now cough for me." Sam put all his weight into his arms as he massaged Johnny's back, forcing him to cough up more congestion from his lungs. "That's it. You're doing fine. One more cough and we'll be done for now."
His hands moved along Johnny's back, his fingers sliding over old scars. Memories of the first time he had seen Johnny's back came flooding back. Sprawled face down on a bed, in a room the boy had not been in since he was two years old, Johnny Lancer lay gasping for breath, so much like he was right now.
Sam had questioned Murdoch when he first learned that his friend had sent for his sons to help him fight the land pirates. Scott was understandable. But not his youngest, not the boy who had made a name for himself as a gunslinger, a gun for hire. Johnny Madrid spelled trouble and he feared that Murdoch would be hurt, both physically and emotionally. But how wrong he had been. From the very start, when Sam had sat with Johnny as he fought to stay alive after Day Pardee's bullet and the subsequent pneumonia left him helplessly dependent on everyone for his most basic needs, he found a young man filled with a sense of right and wrong that belied his reputation. Confused and overwhelmed by feelings he had for his new found half brother and the father he had hated with every breath for as long as he could remember, Johnny had no one to turn to but his doctor. Sam had given him his oath that he would hold the secrets Johnny shared. Johnny trusted him and they formed a friendship that never faltered...until now.
How many times had he tended to Johnny since his first meeting after Day Pardee? How many times had he set broken bones and stitched up cuts and, yes, even more bullet wounds, and each time he had been there for Johnny. Why then, could he not face Johnny this time? Why had he turned his back on his friend, his patient, when he needed him more than at any other time? Mabel said he was running scared. But from what?
Sam felt Johnny's back arch beneath his hands as the boy coughed once more and he patted Johnny gently on the shoulder whispering in his ear that he had done well. Nodding to Mabel and Arlene, they eased Johnny back onto the pillows and Sam stood motionless, vowing that he would face his fears and face Johnny when he woke up. He would not run any longer. It was time to stand and fight. He just hoped to God that he was strong enough to give Johnny what he wanted and what he needed.
***
Johnny lay over the pillows piled high on his lap, too exhausted to move. He coughed twice, the pain in his chest sending him spiraling back toward the black void. But voices surrounded him, keeping him from falling all the way to oblivion. Some he knew, some he didn't. Gentle hands pushed him back onto the pillows and a cool cloth eased the heat on his face and chest. It seemed a lifetime now that he was caught up in this never ending nightmare. First he was so hot he couldn't breathe, then he was so cold his teeth chattered. He remembered thunder and lightning so intense he could see the lightning through his closed eyelids.
And the pain, it seemed to surge until he was ready to scream…his chest aching with each breath, his leg throbbing with each beat of his heart, then it melted away, only to return later. And he was always short of breath…gasping to draw air into his lungs as if he had just run for miles without stopping.
The blackness that had claimed him for so long seemed to be losing its grip and the weight that was crushing his chest eased up a bit. He listened intently, trying to decipher sounds and voices.
He recognized Sam's voice and would have smiled if he could. And a woman's voice. He had heard it somewhere on the peripheral of consciousness. It had eased his mind and made him feel safe. And Gabe, he would recognize that voice anywhere. He was complaining loudly about something…mud?
Something nudged his right foot and pain shot up his leg and he must have moaned because both Sam and the woman were stroking his face calling to him to wake up.
Unsure whether he wanted to or not, he had a nagging feeling that he had something to say to Sam. Something important.
Forcing his heavy eyelids to lift, he saw gray shadows moving before him. As his senses cleared and his eyes focused, he saw a woman he didn't recognize hovering over him.
"Well, it's about time you woke up, young man." Johnny didn't know the face but he knew the voice. Breathing in and out slowly, each breath catching in his chest, he waited silently until the second figure moved into his sight.
"Sam…" he breathed, and the one word left him breathless.
"Don't try to talk, Johnny, not just yet. Give yourself time."
Johnny nodded imperceptibly as his eyes slid closed again. As the storm finally blew itself out, Sam smiled. It seemed appropriate that the storm would abate just as Johnny took his first big step toward recovery.
***
As the rain turned to showers the Lancer ranch came back to life. Two feet of standing water and mud covered the ground as far as the eye could see and Murdoch knew there would be low lying areas that would have been hit harder than they were.
The house and other structures seemed to have weathered the storm, but he knew there would be a heavy price to pay in lost cattle and downed fences. It would take weeks to repair the damage, and months, possibly years, to recover financially. Thank God storms like this were rare.
It had been a long night of worrying about Johnny. Not knowing if he made it to the stagecoach and if he did, if the stagecoach made it to the line shack like Jelly thought, or if it made it all the way to Stockton. There was also the possibility that the stage hadn't weathered the storm. That everyone on board could have perished. Shaking his head he refused to go there again. His thoughts had whirled around so many ideas through the night. He had to believe that Johnny was safe, that Jelly was right.
Standing at the huge picture window behind his desk he couldn't help but wonder what God, in his wisdom, had planned for his family…especially his youngest son. What more could Johnny go through in his young life? It seemed some men were born to be tested, and if that was truly the case, then Johnny had faced a gauntlet of tests. Surely he had met the challenges, face to face, and now deserved a rest.
And if God was not at the helm, and did not steer everyone's life as they traveled from birth to death, then what quirk of fate had singled Johnny out, making him endure more than most men did in a lifetime?
There were no answers. Murdoch knew he could only have faith in God, and manage to do his best day by day. And that is what made this so hard, what made him wonder if all that befell Johnny was not, at least in a small part, his fault.
He had met and bedded Maria without a second thought beyond his lusting desire. Then he had fallen in love with her, knowing she was too young and expected life to bow at her feet. Instead of a grand estancia with servants and parties, he gave her a run-down hacienda that required all his time and effort to rebuild and a thousand acres of land that required hard work and sacrifice. And a life growing in her womb. He saw her face as clearly as if she were standing right beside him. Her beauty was unsurpassed, but her eyes had grown cold and distant.
What should have been the most glorious time of her life, was the most damning for her. As her belly swelled with life, she became more sullen. He could see the look of a trapped animal in her eyes. He had hoped the birth of their child would change all that, that her instincts as a mother would sweep away her sadness and loneliness. But it didn't, and after two years she was gone. Along with one of the two most precious things he had ever known in his life, his youngest son, Johnny.
And that had been the beginning of a life no father could wish upon his son. And yet, if he had not been born. Murdoch shuddered at the thought of missing even one day with his son since his return. Even in the midst of their most heated arguments, he was still proud to call Johnny his son. And at times, when they simply sat quietly and reflected on what was and what might have been, he felt his heart swell with pride. This young man who had fought so many obstacles; the pain of hunger and loneliness, the humiliation of not being wanted because of his mixed heritage. Johnny seldom spoke of his past, what he did say was gut wrenching for Murdoch to hear, and he knew that what Johnny chose to share was only the tip of the iceberg. So much more lay hidden so deep no one could truly know what the boy had gone through.
A flash of color caught Murdoch's attention and he saw Joe sloshing through the water towards the house. And behind him, Murdoch heard the hurried footsteps of this oldest son as Scott raced toward the door, a saddle bag filled with Johnny's clothes slung over his shoulder.
Joe had his hand raised to knock when Murdoch swung the door open. Scott didn't say a word as he slipped past them, his mind only on one thing, finding Johnny.
"Is he going after Johnny?" Joe asked.
Murdoch nodded, following Scott with his eyes as his son ran toward the barn, splashing water, drenching his pants up to his hips.
"Roads may be impassable for a day or two," Joe said, looking after Scott.
"I know. But Scott has to see it for himself." Murdoch dragged his attention back to Joe. "How are the men, anyone hurt?"
"Texas broke his leg and Juan slipped and knocked himself out. He still don't know where he is."
"Bring them in here, and anyone else who's hurt. Teresa will look after them until the doctor gets here."
Jelly was pulling on his jacket as he ducked past Murdoch and Joe.
"Jelly," Murdoch grabbed his arm. "I want you to see how the roads are into Morro Coyo. If you can get there, bring the doctor here."
"But I wanted ta go after Johnny," Jelly huffed.
"I know." Murdoch did know how worried Jelly was over Johnny. Sometimes he seemed to think he was the boy's father. "But all the ranchers in the area have always come to Lancer after a storm like this. They will expect to see the doctor here. If Johnny made it to the line shack, then he's in good hands with Sam. Now, please, get the doctor here as quickly as you can."
"He ain't gonna like it much, riding through this muck."
Murdoch squared his shoulders. "He doesn't have to like it. It's his job. If he gives you any trouble, Jelly, I want you to hog tie him and throw him over your saddle if you have to."
Jelly nodded. "You're darn tootin' I will. And when I get back I expect I'll be seeing that boy of ours. He's got a serious talkin' to coming."
"That he does, Jelly." Murdoch squeezed his arm, knowing the fear that ate at his gut ate at Jelly's too. "Jelly, we'll find him. Now, get going."
Murdoch turned back to Joe. "Tell Scott to hold up a minute…I'm going with him. And tell Cipriano that he's in charge until we get back. He'll know what to do."
Joe nodded. "You find him, boss. You find Johnny and bring him back safe."
Murdoch slapped Joe across the back, feeling a healthy dose of pride that the men felt so close to Johnny. His son had walked a thin tightrope between being a boss and being a friend, and Johnny had pulled it off without even realizing it.
"We'll find him, Joe. Now catch Scott before he takes off."
Murdoch made a hasty dash for the kitchen and grabbed some of Teresa's biscuits from last night's barely touched dinner. It promised to be a long day trying to reach the line shack.
***
Mabel stood in the doorway of the battered shack and breathed in the clean fresh air. Nothing smelled as good as the air after a storm. She often thought of it as Nature's housecleaning.
But the fresh air did nothing to alleviate the alarm at what she saw. Mud had risen up over the front porch, covering the two stairs, and now there was a solid floor of glistening mud for as far as the eye could see.
The stage listed in the mud with the right side submerged past the door, the tops of the wheels barely visible. Tree limbs were scattered everywhere, their branches sticking up out of the mud like fingers trying to grab onto anything to keep from being consumed by the mire. The barn was gone, only the roof remained. A tree, scorched by lightning, stood behind the barn, a testament to nature's fury.
The shack itself had not gone untouched. The overhang above the porch had collapsed near the right corner of the cabin and shingles were scattered on the top of the mud like discarded playing cards. Another hour and the storm would have taken the whole roof.
Everywhere the sound of water dripped, from the roof of the cabin and the leaves of the trees to the horse trough overflowing with crystal clear rain water.
Stepping back inside, Mabel closed the door to keep the draft off Johnny. The smell of the menthol steam and the heat from the pot-bellied stove assaulted her nose after the fresh smell outside.
It had been a long night. Gabe lay on the floor near the stove, his snores vying with the sounds of the dripping water outside. Arlene had finally left Johnny's side. It surprised Mabel that her sister, showing no sign of concern for anyone else since they had been reunited in Philadelphia, seemed drawn to Johnny's plight. Perhaps there was something good still left in her.
Sam was sleeping soundly on the cot next to Johnny's. Perhaps Johnny being there had chased some of the ghosts from Sam's dreams. There was still a long way for those two to go…but hopefully they already had a good start.
Deciding sleep was more important than food at the moment, she sat down in the chair vacated by Arlene and took Johnny's hand into hers. His skin felt cooler, the fever had dropped considerably. His breathing sounded easier too. She could still hear the wheeze from the congestion in his lungs, but the combination of the mustard poultice and the menthol crystals along with the deep massages Sam had performed every four hours, seemed to be winning the battle against the pneumonia.
Pushing the blanket off Johnny's leg she lifted the bandage and grimaced at the red and swollen area around the stitches. Infection still raged in that leg. She sighed deeply and walked over to the stove, pulling a towel soaking in a steaming pot of water and letting it drip over the sink until most of the water was gone. She placed it over Johnny's leg and held his hands tightly as his eyes blinked open at the sudden pain.
"It's all right," she whispered. "It's just a hot compress for your leg. Here," she reached for the glass that held the Antimony, drawing the right amount into a syringe. "this will help with the pain."
"No!" Johnny hissed, trying to whip his head away from her and thus pulling the offending nasal tube from Mabel's hand. "No laudanum."
"It's not laudanum. I promise. And it's not morphine either. But you need something." She quickly infused the medication into the tube then held a glass of water to his lips. "I bet you are mighty thirsty after that high fever you had. You had all of us pretty worried there for awhile."
"Sorry," Johnny said weakly, taking a sip of the water. "Didn't mean…to make trouble for…anyone," he said haltingly between breaths. "I just had to talk to Sam."
"I know, and he needs to talk to you. But he's exhausted now. I would like to see him get a little more rest before you two start hashing out your problems."
Johnny smiled. "Hashing out…our problems. That's a good way a saying it. How is he?" Johnny asked, looking over at Sam sleeping soundly on the cot next to him.
Mabel waited until Johnny looked back up at her. "He's been carrying around a heavy load of guilt."
Johnny sighed, looking back over at Sam. "It's not his to carry. He…he didn't do nothing wrong."
"I know. He told me a little about it. The rest I knew from the newspapers. Oh yes," Mabel nodded, "the Murder 101 Trial, as it was called in the papers, was headline news for weeks in Kansas. I'm sure it got as far as New York. Our little town paper, that seldom saw the light of day more than twice a month, went to printing daily. It was fascinating reading. I have to admit getting caught up in it myself. But I think that miserable excuse for a woman, Maggie Stewart, should of hung for what she tried to do to you."
"She didn't hurt me half as much as she…hurt Sam. He's a good man, he don't…deserve this."
Mabel reached over and brushed the back of her hand against Johnny's cheek. "You surely are a caution, Johnny Lancer. No wonder Sam thinks so highly of you."
Johnny turned away, embarrassed.
"Sounds like the storm's died down," he said. "How long…you think it's going to be before…we can get out of here?"
"It'll be awhile. Stagecoach is useless and Gabe had to turn the horses loose. We're gonna have to wait for someone to find us. That could be a spell."
"Sorry, I put you all in this kind of trouble."
Mabel shook her head as she stood up. "I told you, you don't have anything to be sorry about. And truth be told, you saved all our lives, Johnny. If we hadn't picked you up and headed for this line shack I don't think we would of made it through that storm. Worst I've ever seen, and I've seen some beauts. Gabe said he never should of left Morro Coyo in the first place. But," she leaned down and smoothed the covers over Johnny's shoulders, "I think this little meeting here was meant to be. Now you get some rest. You and Sam got some talking to do when he wakes up."
"I'm not tired," Johnny said, even as he eyes slid closed.
Mabel kissed him gently on the forehead. "Sleep tight anyway."
***
Huge broiling clouds, dark and heavy with rain were driven overhead by strong winds that occasionally drifted down and tugged at the hats of the two men who slowly made their way through the storm ravaged valley.
Scott clamped his knees around Charlie as the horse floundered once again in the thick mud that covered the ground as far as the eye could see, trying to get sure footing where there was none.
He looked over at Murdoch, his father's face cast in stone. They both desperately wanted to get to the line shack to see if Johnny had made it to the stage, and the stage had gone on to the line shack where he would be in Sam's capable care. But the going was getting rougher as the mud and standing water grew higher. All around them they saw islands of land peaking above the water and each island was a sanctuary to mewling cows stranded until the water receded.
Scott pulled Charlie to a stop. "We can't make it this way," he said, his voice mirroring the hopelessness he felt wash over him like the rain had washed over the land. "It will only get worse."
Murdoch pulled up beside Scott. "There's another way," Murdoch said, pointing toward the foothills in the distance. "If we can reach higher ground we can drop down from behind the shack. The going will still be rough once we hit the valley floor again, but it will only a couple of miles. We've got twenty miles going this way."
Scott looked behind them at the distance they had already come. It had taken them four hours to get this far. It would be another four hours before they backtracked to the trail that led up into the foothills.
"It'll be dark by the time we get back to the trail."
Murdoch nodded. "Won't do much good trying to ride through country like that at night. And it looks like more rain is coming. We'll get an early start in the morning."
"No!" Scott's voice startled Charlie and Scott had to hold on as the horse bucked in the mud and nearly lost its footing. "We can't leave him out there another night."
"Scott…Johnny is either safe in that line shack with Sam or…in either case we won't be doing him any good by killing ourselves trying to get to him." Murdoch's own heart pounded in his chest, knowing that Scott felt the same way. "You know it's the right way to go, Son. The only way."
Scott nodded reluctantly. His military training and common sense told him that Murdoch was right. But it still ripped his heart out. He knew Johnny needed him, could feel it deep within himself. Slowly he turned Charlie around and headed back the way they came.
***
"Get your filthy hands off me!" Arnold Garner seethed. "If you don't unhand me immediately, I will call the sheriff."
"Go right ahead," Jelly yelled. "Val'll tell ya the same thing. Now get your doctoring supplies together, ya got patients waiting."
"This is my clinic. They can come here if they need my services."
"What, ya got straw for brains?" Jelly roared. "We just had the worst storm to hits these here parts in fifteen years. Most of the roads into town are impassable. Thank the good Lord that the one from Lancer was clear enough. Still took me more than half the day to get here. So if'n ya don't want to travel at night ya better get a move on."
"Evidently you don't speak English. I said I was not going," Dr. Garner shouted. "Now leave here before…"
"What's all the caterwauling about here?" Val pushed the door open and stood gaping at the two antagonists. "I could hear you two all the way down to the livery."
"Sheriff! You are just in time. Kindly escort this…this…man…out of my office. If he doesn't leave immediately, I will press charges."
"Now hold on." Val stepped between the two men not sure if Jelly was going to jump the doctor. Jelly's face was red with rage, his whiskered chin jutted out defiantly. "What's this all about, Jelly?"
"I came ta get the doc and bring him back ta Lancer. We got hurt folks coming in from the other ranches. Sam always used our ranch after a thing like this happens. Easier for the folks ta get there than all the way ta town."
Val nodded. "So what's the problem?" he asked Garner.
"The problem is, Sheriff, that I am not your Dr. Jenkins. He's gone. I am the new doctor. And I handle my practice differently. I have no intentions of going to the Lancer ranch when I have a fully stocked clinic here."
Val tipped his hat back and took a deep breath. "I knowed you had some learning ta do about being a doc out here, but I didn't know you were a complete idiot. Ya got any idea how far some of them folks live from town? There's no way for some of 'em ta make it here for weeks. Some of 'em might not be able to get to Lancer either. Everyone knows Lancer is where the doc always is after somethin' like this, and Lancer is where yer goin' ta be. Now, ya kin ride peacefully, or I kin put ya in cuffs and haul yer carcass out there."
"I'll have your badge for this, Sheriff," Garner promised.
"Ya kin have it," Val snapped. "After ya take care of them patients."
"Very well. I will go to the Lancer ranch, but under protest. Get my buggy ready."
"Buggy?" Jelly chuckled sarcastically. "There ain't no buggy in these parts that'd make it through that mud. I hope ya know how ta sit a saddle."
"I do, quite well, in fact. Now get one saddled while I gather my supplies. You may want to bring another horse along. If I must run a clinic at Lancer, I will run a proper one."
The door slammed shut behind them as Val and Jelly carefully stepped out onto the wooden sidewalk, slippery with mud. Val scowled. "I tell ya, Jelly, that man's dodgy enough ta crawl under a snake's belly."
"Ya got that right, Val. Ya want ta ride out with us? I don't mind tellin' ya that I don't look forward ta travelin' alone with the likes of him."
"Sorry, Jelly, but I got plenty ta to here. But I'll be out in a day or two ta see Johnny. How's he doin'?"
"Johnny? The blame fool boy took off after Sam."
"In the middle of that storm? Is he crazy?"
"Ya might think so. He was awful sick when he left, Val. Nobody knows fer sure if he made it. And…"
"And ya haven't been able to look for him. Tell Murdoch I'll be out there as soon as I can ta help look if ya haven't found him by tomorrow."
"Thanks, Val. Murdoch and Scott will appreciate the help."
Both men parted company, Val to his office and Jelly to hire two horses for the trip back to Lancer, both men with the same frightening thought. No man could have survived that storm alone.
***
"Come on Johnny, I know this hurts, but it's got to be done. Now cough for me." Sam put all his weight into his arms as he massaged Johnny's back, forcing Johnny to cough up more congestion in his lungs. "That's it. You're doing fine. One more cough and we'll be done for now."
*****
Johnny lay over the pillows piled on his lap again, too exhausted to move. He coughed, the pain in his chest sending him spiraling back down into a black void. He felt like he was at the bottom of a deep dark well…his chest burning, heaving to draw air into his tortured lungs. But the voices were there again assuring him, comforting him, promising him he would talk to Sam.
As the burning in his chest eased, he felt as if he was climbing towards the top of that well…he only had to open his eyes. But not just yet…he felt himself slip back down, just a little. Next time…next time he would be stronger and he would open his eyes and have that talk with Sam.
***
Jelly thought he had never seen a more comforting sight than the Lancer arch. For five hours he had nudged his horse through knee high mud, coaxing the poor animal to continue on when he was too tired in mind and spirit to carry on. But there were people at Lancer who were counting on them making it back, and he was damn well gonna do it.
Tired, hungry and cursing Murdoch Lancer for sending him on this trip to hell, he silently listened to the unending complaints from Dr. Garner as they made their way toward the hacienda. By the time they left Morro Coyo, the doctor had two pack horses straining under a load of medical supplies. Somehow Sam Jenkins had gotten by with only his medical bag and a few splints when disaster hit.
The thought of Sam brought back his worry over Johnny. The boy had done some all fired dumb things since Jelly first met him, still slightly dazed by a bullet crease to his head and in the safe hands of Jelly's orphans. But this was the worst. He still believed what he had said to Scott and Murdoch; that Johnny had made it to the stage and the stage had gone on to the safety of the line shack. But he had to admit to himself that the odds were slim that that was what really happened. More than likely Johnny was lying…He pushed the thought out of his mind, he would not go there.
"At last…" Dr. Garner sighed loudly. "These are appalling conditions. How do you people live like this?"
Jelly ignored him, just like he ignored everything else that came out of the doctor's mouth. In a few minutes he would be safe and dry inside the house, with news that they had found Johnny.
***
An hour later Murdoch sagged in the saddle as he and Scott also rode beneath the Lancer arch, exhausted in mind and body. Having to give up for the day was a painful blow to both men. Not knowing if Johnny had even made it to the stage, lay heavy on their minds and hearts. There was only a chance Jelly was right…something family and friends clamped on to, because the alternative was not acceptable. And now, the worst thing possible; they were unable to reach the line shack by the direct route. It would be another long, agonizing night of not knowing, and waiting for daybreak to start looking again.
The rain had started falling, lighter, but still not giving the ground a chance to dry out.
With their heads bowed against the rain and fatigue, they let their mounts make their way to the barn and the lure of shelter, oats and a good brushing.
Jose met them just inside the barn, and held the horses as they dismounted. Thirteen, if he were a day, the boy took the reins then stopped, imploring Murdoch and Scott for the answer he wanted to hear. But the dejected look on the two men's faces told him the answer he did not want to hear… They had not found senor Juanito.
Murdoch saw the look and his heart went out to the boy. So many people cared for his son, and he didn't even know to what extent until now.
Murdoch laid a gentle hand on Jose's shoulder. "We'll head out again first thing in the morning," he said. "Tell Cipriano that we would like him to join us."
"Si senor, I will tell him."
Scott looked over at his father. "Cipriano knows the foothills like the back of his hand," Murdoch explained.
Nodding, Scott walked back out into the rain toward the house, noticing for the first time the dozen horses tethered in front of the door.
"Senor Doctor, he is taking care of the hurt," Jose quickly offered. "He was mucho mad. I could hear him yelling from here when he first arrived. Then Senor Jelly, he started yelling, and senorita Teresa started crying...and…"
Murdoch's shoulders sagged. But there was a sudden sparkle in Joes's eyes.
"And…?"
"Senora Maria started yelling. Everyone was very quiet after that."
A laugh so deep, and so unexpected, exploded from Murdoch's chest making both Scott and Jose jump. "We'd better rescue the good doctor from Maria," Murdoch said, and walked towards the house, the overwhelming tension ebbing for just a moment.
***
Gabe stood in the doorway covered in mud up to his waist. "We got a problem, folks," he said. "All the wood that's left ta burn is in this shack. Everything out here is covered in mud. You'll have ta conserve where ya can."
Mabel nodded, throwing a pair of pants toward Gabe. "Here's a pair of Sam's pants. I took down what hem I could. They'll still be a bit short, but better than what you're wearing.
"Thank ya, ma'am." Gabe caught the pants, being careful not to let them touch the mud. "And, ah…I kind a fixed a little privacy for ya ladies outside. It ain't much, but I put some boards down so ya won't sink in the mud and made a kind of lean to. No telling how long we'll be here."
"That's very kind of you," Arlene stepped forward. "But you are letting what little heat we have left in here out." She closed the door unceremoniously in his face.
"Arlene!" Mabel cried.
"He just said we had to conserve the heat, didn't he?" she asked innocently.
Sam could only shake his head. Turning back to look at Johnny, he was surprised to see Johnny's eyes open, a smile lighting up his face.
"I thought you were still asleep."
"Didn't want to miss the show," Johnny rasped breathlessly.
"Don't try to talk just yet, John." Sam walked over to him, pulling the blanket down to Johnny's waist. "I'm going to check you over first, then we are going to have a talk, young man. At least I am. Whatever possessed you to go out into a storm like that in your condition?"
"I had to talk to you."
"Didn't I just say not to talk? Now, let's get one thing straight, right away, I am the doctor and you are the patient. That means you listen and do what I say. Understood?"
Another smile softened the lines around Johnny's eyes. He understood.
"Good. Now if I hurt you, just grunt good and loud."
Johnny nodded, knowing he was safe in Sam's care.
"Amazing. You can follow orders," Sam quipped. "All right, I'm going to tell you exactly what is going on here." Sam began his examination, describing what he found as he went along. "You have pneumonia, not surprising after getting drenched in that freezing rain. Your chest is still congested. We'll have to continue to make you cough. I don't know if you remember the massages I've been giving you. I know they hurt, but they are necessary. You still have a nasty infection in your leg. I've opened it again and put a drain in. We will continue to put hot compresses on it…again painful, but necessary. You are still running a fever, lower than it was, thank God, but still of concern. We will continue with the medications. When you think you can keep something down, you can have some broth by mouth. Until then, I'm afraid everything will be by that nasal tube."
Johnny's eyes sought the tube and he whispered, "Take it out."
"Did I say no talking?" Sam asked sharply. "The nasal tube stays. Now, you are going to be pretty weak until the fever breaks and your lungs clear. And then for awhile after that. So, until I say differently, you are going to stay right in this bed…understood?"
Johnny understood. He was just too tired to answer as his eyelids slid closed. He felt safe as he drifted back to sleep. There was a lot to talk about, but it could wait. For now it was enough that he had found Sam.
***