Chapter 4

Scott was puzzled by his brother's sudden irritation. It was unlikely to be simply the coffee. He watched Johnny move to each man and hurry him along with a biting tone and a frosty stare. In an attempt to quiet his agitation, Scott stepped forward and placed a hand on Johnny's arm. He stopped, his eyes warmed and he appeared about to speak. Then with the swiftness of a breath, it was gone. His eyes turned an icy blue and he jerked his arm free. Wordlessly he strode out of camp, but not before grabbing his rig from Barranca and fastening it securely around his hips.

Tension filled the air in sharp contrast to the earlier camaraderie. Johnny's commands were obeyed and the men began moving about, readying for work. They piled their plates onto Remy's waiting hands and gathered up their tools. One more piercing whistle split the air causing the men to move faster. When the bustle was over only Scott and Remy remained in camp.

"Least I can't break these," Remy groaned softly to Scott, a weak smile trying to form on his lips. "Too bad that's the only good thing. And you thought my luck was changing."

"What do you mean? They picked those plates clean. Told you they weren't going to be a tough audience."

"Yeah, all but the one that mattered, your brother." Scott watched the young man's face fall. "He didn't finish and he sure didn't cotton to my coffee. Sorry about that." The stack of tin plates shifted, threatening to topple, as his shoulders drooped. "Almost thought he was gonna shoot me there for a minute. What with that look he gave when he strapped on his gun. Guess I should find me another town. Don't reckon there's anyone left in that last one willin' to hire me."

"Nonsense, Remy," Scott said with a grin. "Johnny said yes. All he asks, is that you not make your coffee and…"

Triumph replaced defeat in the young man's eyes. He danced a quick jig sending the tin plates clattering to the ground while whooping loudly. "Really? You mean it? I can stay on? Thank you, Scott, thank you," he rejoiced, squeezing Scott's arms just above the elbows.

"Now, you need to realize it's not going to be easy." Scott pried Remy's hands free. "This cooking business is hard work. Days start early and run late and you have to learn to clean up after yourself."

"I know. I know. And I can do it too, just watch me."

"I plan to, only not now." Scott removed his gloves from his belt and, giving them his full attention, pulled them on. "Now, I'm going to help out there." He pointed beyond the trees. "And you, you're going to clean up this mess."

"You ain't gonna help me?" Remy swallowed hard and looked around at the disarray.

"Afraid not, Boy. You need to show me you can do it or I'll be the one to send you packing."

"But…"

"No, buts." Scott wagged his finger. "Clean and pack everything away into the wagon, then come and find me. We'll head back to Lancer together."

Scott took off through the trees in search of his brother. Johnny was heard long before he was spotted.

"Damn it, Ramón! Look at this tree. It's hanging from the other tree's branches, not up, not down." Johnny was in the man's face. "You know what they call that? A widow-maker. Got any idea why? Cuz they're dangerous that's why. You gotta plan where the damn thing's gonna fall. Not hack away without thinking. A man could get killed. You won't be havin' too good a time in town tonight if that happens. now will ya?"

"No, Johnny. Lo siento. It won't happen again."

"Vea que no lo hace o usted buscará el trabajo a otra parte. ¿Se entiende eso?"

"Si, Senor," Ramón responded, his head bowed.

Scott wasn't certain what Johnny said, but he was certain it wasn't good. And there was another thing he was certain of, something was most definitely bothering his brother.

"Get those tarpaulins over these two wagons. Let's try to keep this wood dry. Don't suppose it matters much but I imagine they'll use any excuse to cut the price." He turned, meeting Scott's gaze. "Damn rain! Everything's gonna rust." Then as quickly as that, he moved on, continuing his outburst. "Get movin' before it pours!"

Several long strides caught Scott up to his brother. He stood directly behind him and spoke softly. "Johnny, I don't think rushing is smart. This is dangerous enough without pushing the men. You were working so well together before lunch, what happened?"

Johnny swung around with fire in his eyes. "Why don't you go help your kitchen boy clean up and leave this to me? We've been doing fine all week. You bring that kid in here and all hell breaks loose."

"I don't believe it is Remy, Johnny. I think it's you."

His words fell on deaf ears. Johnny had already moved on, inspecting the third wagon load.

"Okay, who the hell put this one in the wagon," he shouted, pointing at a log that was clearly too small. "Anyone can see it's too damn small! Twelve inch diameter! Twelve inch!" He held up his hands about a foot apart. "Does everyone know how big that is? The deal is for a wagonload of twelve inch diameter logs or bigger." He moved his hands wider apart. "Not smaller." He moved his hands closer together. "Just one of this size brings the price of the whole load down. We need to pull all these off to get to it. Not that we have time, since you're all so damned fired up to get to town. Stu, Benito get over here."

The two men hurried over and stood on either side of Johnny. Scott leaned on the wagon bed, his arms crossed, watching and listening.

"The way I see it, eight logs need to come off, then the small one." Using chalk Johnny marked the ones to be removed. "We're gonna do this the same way we put 'em on. By the time we get these eight back in we should have another ready to replace the small one. Then we'll be done and can call it a day." He placed a friendly hand on Stu's shoulder and in a calmer voice said, "You and the others will still have plenty of time to get into town." Pushing off, he climbed into the wagon and on top of the stacked logs.

These were not your typical Lancer wagons. They belonged to the railroad, designed for hauling lumber and were more substantial than the average wagon. Ironwood was used wherever possible. They had oversized wheels, rigid metal supports, and higher sides. The sides went up nearly five feet from the bed of the wagon and could support a tremendous amount of weight.

Johnny balanced himself as he walked the length of a log while tying a slip knot in one end of a rope. Turning on his toes, he looked down on his brother with a scowl. "You gonna help or just stand there looking pretty?"

"I'm here to help, Johnny. I'll get this side." He held out his hand to catch the other end of the rope. "And we'll take it slow," Scott cautioned as he climbed onto the tailgate.

Bending deeply, Johnny wrapped his loop of the rope around the far end. Scott did the same at his end. Using a chain, hung over a sturdy branch on the spar tree for leverage, they hooked the rope and, with the horses, raised the log off the pile then lowered it to the ground.

The process was slow. Steps were repeated in silence and Johnny's irritation seemed to give way to concentration. By the time they reached the offending log the rain had picked up its pace. It now dripped off the branches and puddles were starting to form in the mud. Johnny looped the rope around his end as did Scott and the log began its ascent. Pleased with their progress Johnny visibly relaxed and smiled at his brother. Removing his hat he wiped the rain from his eyes with his forearm. "Thanks, Scott. Sorry I got so hot headed before. Don't know what got into me."

"Think nothing of it, Brother. It's forgotten." It wasn't of course, but now was neither the time nor the place. Scott could be a very patient man.

For an instant a horse lost its footing in the mud. Not much, but enough to get the log swinging. As the men tried to stop its motion they had the opposite effect. It slammed into the side of the wagon causing the remaining logs to shift position and roll down into the spot just vacated.

The cry that ensued was calm but at the same time alarming. "Shit! Get them off me, get them off, now."

Johnny's foot was in that spot - now joined by three large logs. He was bent over holding his calf, his face red with pain. Immediately Scott reacted. Shouting orders and taking control. "Miguel, Ramón, Clem, get over here now. In seconds the three men arrived and steadied the swinging log, helping to lower it to the ground.

"We need to get this rope around those logs, all at once if we can. Ramón, climb up in the front of the wagon and see if you can manage it. It's easier from Johnny's angle but I don't want anyone on those logs. I've got this end. We'll need two more horses. This load will be heavy." He paused in his commands to gentle his voice. "You doing okay, Johnny?"

"Get this off of me and I'll be just fine, Scott," he replied through gritted teeth.

Scott looked around and then up at the spar tree. "We need another rope," he shouted. "Toss it up over that limb so he can use it to pull himself out. Hurry!" He paused again to look at his brother. "You can do that, right Johnny? As much as I want to be up there to pull you free it might send another log down once things get moving."

Pain resonated in Johnny's eyes. He ran his tongue across his lips and he nodded. "I can do it, Scott."

"Good," Scott said with a smile. "We're just about ready."

He looked around one more time. Checking the ropes and eyeing the men as they hitched up the extra horses. One wrong move could send more logs skittering down onto his brother. "Everything in place?"

Each man answered in the affirmative.

"We're going to take it slow. No sudden movements. Okay, Johnny, as soon as you feel the slightest release in pressure you pull."

Johnny wrapped the rope around his hand and placed his other hand on the side of the wagon. He waited.

"On three." Scott raised his arm in the air and counted with words and fingers. "One – Two – Three."

The horses gained their footing and moved slowly forward. The chain drew taught and began to raise the logs. At the first sign of movement Johnny began to wiggle his foot until he finally had enough room to pull it free. Using the rope, he swung his legs over the tall wagon side. Scott and Stu stood ready to catch him as he slid down. He put an arm around each man's shoulders.

"Damn it Johnny, whatcha go and do a fool thing like that for? Now ya can't come to town with us. That faro table had your name on it, I just know it did."

"Stu!" rebuked Scott. "Another time." He then turned toward his brother. "Let's get you out of the way and take a look at that. Do you think it's broken?"

"Nope. Don't hurt bad enough."

"Johnny, you can't tell by that. And you know it."

"Just give me a few minutes, Scott. If I can walk on it, it ain't broke." He flashed his brother a carefree smile, but his eyes told a different story.

"I'm not so sure Sam would agree with your medical diagnosis."

"Yeah well, I don't see him around here. Do you?"

"Not yet, but I'm willing to bet he will be."

They eased Johnny onto a tree stump and Scott moved to take off his boot.

"Don't touch it," Johnny hissed. "Ya know damn well this thing's gonna swell up. How the hell do you suggest I get it back on? Or will you have me walking around in the cold mud, shoeless?"

"What I think, is you need to stay off it all together. At least until we get Sam. What do you say; we get you in the wagon and head into Spanish Wells. Sam can take a look and we can still bring Willie back in time for dinner." Scott smiled, proud of his plan.

Johnny shook his head. "Nope, ain't gonna work. One of us needs to be here. We have to sign the paperwork, unless of course you don't want to get paid." His crew was gathered around looking at him and talking amongst themselves. "What cha lookin' at?" He barked. "Get those logs back in the wagon, cover the load and get the hell outta here. You're done."

The men worked fast to finish the job then packed it in and mounted up, all except Stu and Charlie. "Johnny, me and Charlie bin talkin' and decided we'd wait for them railroad people. One of us can sign for ya. You go with Scott and get yourself fixed up. We can go into town later or tomorrow night, even."

"Nope. I want ya to go. You worked hard today and all I did was chew ya out after lunch. Just don't go losing that fifteen bucks ya owe me, Stu, and I'll be fine." He winced, trying for the first time to put weight on his leg then sat back down. "Won't I, Scott?"

The men looked at Scott and he nodded for them to go.

Trying hard to control the grins that threatened to show on their faces the men quickly backed away. "Well… if you say so." Stu spoke as he moved toward his horse. "Wouldn't want ta make the bosses mad or nothin', now would we Charlie."

"Nope, never a good idea, Stu."

"Thanks, Johnny, Scott." They nodded to each man then mounted up and sped off. Their cries of yee-haw brought a smile to both the Lancers.

"That goes for you too Scott," Johnny said as he stretched to grab hold of a nearby tree branch. Using it to stand he looked at his brother. "Out a here. You got a pretty girl waiting. The men ain't going to Green River by way of Spanish Wells and since you're all fired up to get Sam, even though I don't need him, then you might as well be the one to do it."

"Look, Johnny. We can stay, you me and Remy. It shouldn't be too much longer. They were expected hours ago."

"That's what I'm tryin' to tell you Scott, it's getting late. Willie may be a good woman and all but I don't think she'd take too kindly to being stood up."

"At least I'd have a good excuse. She might skin me alive if she thought for one second I left you out here alone and hurt."

"It's not that bad, Scott, really. See, I can even walk on it with barely a limp. And I'll hardly be alone. Those wagons will probably show up before you ride out of sight."

"Barely a limp? Is that what you call it?" Scott raised his hand to halt Johnny's next words. "I know, I know, you've had worse." A grin spread across Scott's face. "If I go, at least Remy could stay. Keep you company…"

"No! Don't want him here. Take him."

"It's not negotiable, Johnny."

"He's bad luck, Scott. Him and that coffee, bad luck."

"Johnny! This wasn't his fault. It was an accident. How on earth could he or his coffee have had anything to do with it?"

"I said take him, Scott. Don't want him here. Didn't want him here in the first place. Sure don't need no more bad luck now."

"Take it easy Johnny. It's not like you to get this upset. What's gotten into you?"

"A lot of things. This rain for one, and I swear, if I heard mention of that damn faro table one more time I would a rode straight into Green River and shot that dealer right between the eyes. And this." He motioned to his leg. "I feel like a damn fool. How could I have been so stupid?" He swallowed hard, in obvious pain after trying to put more weight on it."

"Ya do know you shouldn't be walking on it. Right?" The soft voice startled both men. Together they turned to look at Remy standing a few yards away. A bucket dangled from his arms. "I fetched some water from the stream yonder. It's real cold, even had a few ice chucks till floatin' in it. Just might help with the swelling if'n you have enough sense to sit down."

"And just how would you know that, kid?" Johnny spoke with derision.

"My Ma. She used to help the doctor in our town. I learned a few things. Learned enough ta know ya don't go walkin' 'round on a leg that just might be broken for starters." He stood there looking from Scott to Johnny, the handle of the bucket clenched in his fists.

Scott waved him forward. "Well, come on over here then. He's testy but he won't hurt you. Will you Johnny?"

Johnny glared at his brother then released a loud sigh of resignation. "No, I won't hurt ya, kid," he drawled.

"The wagon packed up, Remy?" Scott asked.

"Yes, Sir, all set."

"Good, I'll bring it over." A self-satisfied smile slid across his face. "We'll get you in it, Johnny, and we'll wait. We'll all wait." Switching his attention to Remy he added, "Maybe you'll have better luck getting his boot off." Scott's long legs averted a puddle as he strode away sputtering to himself. "Damn brother, most stubborn thing on two legs. Make that one leg, at the moment. How could he possibly think we would simply ride off and leave him alone? Guess that's what he was used to, once, but no more. You'd think by now he'd have that figured out."

Entering the camp Scott was pleased to see it in order. The kid was trying. Too bad Johnny saw him as some kind of bad luck. It appeared the kid was more than trying. A small fire still smoldered and a full pot of coffee was perched on a rock placed in its center. Scott grabbed the pot and kicked dirt over the coals. Climbing into the wagon he noticed three tin cups resting on the seat. He poured a small taste and didn't know whether to be pleased or unhappy. It was plain old coffee, just as Johnny requested. He placed the pot on the floorboard and with one final glance around encouraged the horses forward.

Thankfully the rain had slowed to a drizzle, not that it made much difference. Each one of them was soaked to the bone, in need of dry clothes and a warm fire. At least the coffee would help warm their insides. Casting a glance to the horizon Scott was relieved to see the empty wagons winding their way down the trail. Their progress was slow. It would be near an hour before they arrived.

Once Scott pulled up the wagon and caught sight of his brother all thought switched to concern. Johnny sat on the muddy ground, back against the stump his leg resting on a piece of scrap lumber. Gone were the 'I'm okay' smirks, the hostility and the attempts to convince everyone he was all right. These were replaced by a rigid back, eyes squeezed shut and short intakes of breath, all attesting to his intense pain. Remy had succeeded in removing Johnny's boot and unbuttoning his conchos to the knee. Both foot and calf were red and swollen, despite the icy rags Remy applied.

"I don't know, Johnny, your leg's not looking too good. What we need to do is get you situated in the wagon so we can head back as soon as we sign over the shipment. The wagons are on their way. I saw them. They should be here in less than an hour." There was no reaction so Scott knelt close. "Can you hear me, Johnny? I said…"

Johnny cracked open one eye. "I can hear ya Scott. Nothin' wrong with my ears." He stiffened again, hissing in pain. "Damn, should never have stopped moving, it was just fine as long as I was up."

Remy shook his head at Johnny's remark. "Is he always like this?"

"Yup," replied Scott. He stood, alerted by the sound of a fast approaching horse.

TBC