Through the Eyes of Teresa O'Brien
Chapter Seven
It was nearing dawn and the fire in the hearth had burned down to glowing embers before Teresa headed upstairs to try to get some rest. Murdoch had assured her that it would take Scott and the men most of the night to make their way back through Cipriano's pass. The trail was seldom used and dangerous, especially in the dark.
It was just as well, she thought. She had enjoyed the quiet time with Murdoch, sitting by the fire, feeling his hand stroking her hair. She missed being the center of his attention. Johnny and Scott had no right to push her out of his life. Well, they would soon find that she was not so easily pushed.
She lit the lamp and turned up the wick, chasing the deeper shadows from her room. Looking in the mirror she saw the dark smudges beneath her eyes. This ordeal had been difficult on everyone, especially her. Johnny's arrival had put a snag in her plans…but he would serve his purpose, if he wasn't on Pardee's side, that is. She'd heard the talk around the ranch and even in town yesterday. Johnny Madrid was no stranger to land wars. She'd read it in the Pinkerton file, but it had more impact after actually meeting him and seeing those cold blue eyes leveled at both Murdoch and Scott.
His admission that he knew Day Pardee left her feeling unsettled. What Pardee's men had done to Gaspar and Maria was horrific. The fact that Johnny knew the men behind it left her wondering if any of them were safe in his presence. And yet the dangerous part of him made her stomach quiver. She wished she could ask Anna May why she felt such conflicting emotions. Was it only yesterday that she had talked to her? Made plans that would have to be put on hold, for the time being?
She took her time washing up and brushing her hair before pulling it into a ponytail down her back. She selected a simple skirt and blouse with a neckline that was just low enough to remind any man that she had something to offer if she decided to share. She might have to put her plans on hold for awhile, but that didn't mean she couldn't season the plate a little. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she knew she was ultimately still in charge.
Teresa was waiting for Murdoch at the bottom of the stairs with a cup of hot coffee. He looked tired and worried in the soft light from the lamps. They were still a half an hour away from dawn.
"Thank you, sweetheart. Just what I need." Murdoch sipped at the hot brew and grimaced. "I'm too old to sleep in a chair all night, no matter how comfortable the chair is."
"I didn't have the heart to wake you. What would you like for breakfast? Eggs and…"
The sound of horses approaching drew their attention to the picture window behind Murdoch's desk. In the faint light of approaching dawn, Teresa saw Scott leading the men to a stop in the center of the courtyard. She rushed after Murdoch, trying to keep up with his long legs and not spill her coffee. He flung open the French doors, and she shivered in the cool morning air.
Even in the dim light the men and horses looked exhausted, but there was no sign of fatigue in Scott's voice as he turned his mount to face the men and started shouting orders. "All right! I want men on the roof!" He spun his horse around, pointing to the places he wanted guarded. "The front portico, and some in the back of the house. Cipriano, make sure the patio is covered. Put the rest of the men anywhere you think will do the most good." Scott looked back at the men. "Let's go!" he yelled. Cipriano began yelling his own orders.
Teresa was surprised by the authority in Scott's voice. He sounded like he had led men before. But where would a Boston bred greenhorn learn to take command like that? Perhaps there was more to this man than she had first thought.
Women who normally took care of the laundry and gardens were now part of the army fighting against Pardee. They appeared out of nowhere to lead the horses into the stable, offering the men jars of water and food wrapped in towels. Teresa felt proud of them, and herself. She had done a good job over the years picking only the best women, weeding out the ones who displeased her.
"What happened?" Murdoch demanded as Scott hurried into the great room carrying his rifle. There was nothing of the fancy Boston gentleman she'd seen step off the stagecoach two days ago. Blond stubble hardened his dignified looks, his usually perfectly combed hair now damp from sweat.
"Nothing," Scott said, setting the rifle on the dining table. "Yet…"
Teresa handed him her cup of coffee and he drank it gratefully.
"We rode just far enough to make them think we'd taken the bait," he continued, "then we cut back through Cipriano's pass. They should be along soon."
Murdoch nodded.
"It will be daylight in a few minutes," Scott added as the first rays of dawn chased the blackness of night away.
Murdoch turned to her. "Teresa, get my rifle."
Her heart beat just a little faster as she ran to the gun cabinet and drew out two rifles. She was as good as most men with a rifle, and everyone knew it. She grabbed extra ammunition and handed Murdoch his rifle and laid hers down next to Scott's on the table.
"Where's Johnny?" Scott asked, and Teresa saw Murdoch turn his back on Scott to look out the window.
"Gone," he answered flatly.
"Gone where?"
"What difference?" Murdoch didn't look back as he walked into the kitchen, the door closing loudly behind him.
Scott turned to Teresa. "What happened after I left?"
"Murdoch made it clear that he didn't trust Johnny. He wasn't sure what Johnny was doing in town yesterday. Maybe making plans with Day Pardee."
"He said that?" Scott looked surprised.
"Well, maybe not in those exact words. But I know Murdoch, and I know when he's worried." Teresa ran her fingers along the barrel of the rifle lying on the table. "You have your doubts too, don't you?"
Scott raised an eyebrow. "I don't make snap judgments. I don't know enough about either Johnny or my father to offer an informed opinion."
"Johnny admits he knows Pardee, and he let Pardee's men beat you up yesterday. I don't know if I trust him." She lifted her hand from the rifle to her blouse, playing with the top button nervously. "I don't know if I'm safe around him."
Scott's eyes drifted to her cleavage, and she smiled inwardly. There were a lot of ways to win a war. "Do you think he's working for Pardee?" she pressed.
Silence hovered between them. The longer it took him to answer the more empowered she felt.
"No," he finally answered. "I saw the look on his face when we were fighting the fire in the field. And I saw his eyes when he saw what Pardee and his men had done to your neighbors. It made him as sick as it made the rest of us. No, I don't believe he's working with Pardee."
Teresa took a step closer, her arm touching Scott's. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. Knowing your half brother is a gunslinger – a hired killer. I wonder why your grandfather never warned you?"
"I've wondered the same thing myself. I plan on asking him when this is all over."
"You're going back to Boston?" She hoped her voice didn't reveal her surprise.
Scott looked down at her and smiled. "Do you want me to?"
Could it all be that easy? Had she been wrong about him wanting to own a piece of land he had no real connection to? After all, he had more than enough to keep him happy in Boston. But she couldn't look as if she was too anxious. "No, of course not. But I can understand if this is not the kind of life you want to lead." She looked out the window making sure Scott followed her glance as a guard paced slowly back and forth in front of the window.
"I am certain it is not like this all the time," he said.
"No, most of the time it is dull dirty work. I'm just afraid you will soon miss the people, the parties, the theater, all the things you are so used to."
"Yes. But San Francisco is not that far away. A week now and then in the big city…"
"I've been to San Francisco, but I'm sure it's not as wonderful as Boston."
Scott smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Are you trying to dissuade me from staying?"
Teresa tried to back up but Scott grabbed her arm. "Whatever your little game is, I'm not playing."
She pulled her arm free. "I only need to say one word to Murdoch and…"
"Teresa, don't over estimate your power here. You may be Murdoch's ward, but Johnny and I are his sons. Think about that before you do something you will regret."
If she had a six gun strapped to her leg like most of the men, Scott Lancer would be a dead man. She stepped back, struggling to compose herself. She was still in control, she reminded herself. Scott had no idea how easily she could manipulate Murdoch. She was the one who really controlled the reins here. She had thought Scott would be the easier of the two. Johnny was the dangerous one, while Scott was ever the gentleman. But it seemed he had a sharp edge to him.
She needed time to think. Walking across the room, she slowly pulled the drapes closed across the picture window. She had helped pick the color…more proof that this was her house and not Scott or Johnny's. Scott just stood there watching her. Maybe he needed a little demonstration of just how easily she could get Murdoch to do anything her heart desired.
Murdoch walked back into the room and took a seat in front of the fireplace. Scott bowed slightly to her and joined him. Anger flared her cheeks red. This was all a game to him. Well, if it was games he wanted to play, she would gladly join him, but they would be playing by her rules.
Taking a deep breath, she started walking toward the fireplace when a warning shot from outside froze her in her tracks.
Scott nearly barreled her over as he ran to the widow and dragged the heavy drapes open. Outside, men with rifles were running to get into position.
"Here they come," Scott yelled, yanking the French doors open.
In the distance, she could see a cloud of dust growing closer and the report of guns firing. Why were they wasting bullets so far away from the house? Maybe Pardee wasn't as dangerous as everyone thought. Maybe his success came from surprise and numbers. Lancer was ready for him, she and Murdoch had seen to that.
Teresa grabbed her rifle off the table and fell in line behind Murdoch. They ran up the outside steps. Scott climbed to the top landing and Murdoch stopped on the second. Teresa slipped past Murdoch to stand between them. The rifle in her hands felt heavy, not just the weight of the weapon, but the fact that she was about to use it on another human being. She's never taken a life before, not even an animal's.
Her heart was in her throat. The reality of what was about to happen turned her stomach upside down. Is this how Gaspar and Maria felt when Pardee's men swooped down on them? For the first time, she felt a little of the terror Maria must have experienced.
"Hold your fire!" Scott yelled. "They're still out of range."
They had two fences to jump before they reached the courtyard. Would that be enough to slow them down so the ranch hands could stop them? One rider was way out in front. Was he leading them or being chased?
"Here comes the first one," Scott yelled. Teresa looked above her to the first landing and saw Scott raise his rifle. There was no doubt he knew how to use it. Again she had underestimated him. Below her Murdoch had his rifle aimed on the rider. When Scott gave the word the man would be hit by a dozen bullets or more. Why was he taking such a chance? It made no sense.
Teresa raised her own rifle, aimed at the rider and began to squeeze the trigger.
The rider sailed over the first fence on a golden palomino.
"Wait!" Murdoch shouted. "It's Johnny!"
It was. Teresa recognized the leather pants with the conchos glinting in the sun. What was he doing? Surely, he didn't think they would allow him to lead Pardee and his men right into the courtyard. He sailed over the inner fence and even from this distance she could see the desperation in his face.
Suddenly, Johnny's arms flew up in the air and he fell to the ground hard.
"Johnny!" she screamed.
Pardee and his men jumped the outer fence and acacophony of gunfire erupted around them as the Lancer men began firing on the invading high riders. The acrid smell of gunsmoke bit at her throat, stung her eyes. But she couldn't take her eyes off Johnny lying motionless in the middle of the courtyard. As much as she didn't want him here, as much as she would do to make sure Lancer remained hers, she didn't want to see him killed.
Teresa reached Murdoch at the same moment Scott tried pushing past both of them.
"It's no use," Murdoch said, his voice filled with despair. "I don't understand what the boy was trying to do."
Teresa knew. She'd always known. Lancer was Johnny's home. He was fighting for it as much as he was fighting for the people who lived on it. She would have given him a good fight and won in the end. Now she would never have the chance, and she felt a loss that surprised her. "He was coming back to us!"
Scott yanked his arm free and ran down the stairs. A bullet hit the step Teresa was standing on and she fired into the middle of the approaching men, covering Scott and Murdoch as they ran for cover behind the archways supporting the patio. A vaquero, standing on the roof, screamed and she saw his body plummet to the ground. She didn't have time to see who it was. Racing down the stairs, she ducked down behind a barrel she used to plant herbs and began firing again.
More raiders jumped the inner fence, and she spotted Pardee on foot, leading the attack. Even with all the Lancer men, Teresa was suddenly afraid that they might lose, and she would be at their mercy like Maria had been.
Teresa reeled at the sight and the smells. She heard cries of pain from men on both sides. She wanted to close her eyes, to wake up in her own bed to find that this was just a terrible nightmare. A bullet sent wood dust into her eyes as it came too close.
She couldn't keep her eyes off Johnny lying motionless on the ground. One of Pardee's men raced across the yard and jumped over him. To Teresa's astonishment, Johnny suddenly raised his gun and shot the man in the back.
Johnny struggled to lever himself up on one elbow as he continued to shoot. He looked dazed, his movements slow, but he kept firing.
"Look at that!" Murdoch yelled from behind the archway. "Look at your brother!"
"Cover me!" Scott shouted and crouched low as he zigzagged across the yard toward Johnny. Scott and Raoul reached him and dragged him to the oak tree near the barn.
"Look out!" Johnny yelled, and Teresa saw what Johnny had seen. Day Pardee had his rifle pointed at Scott. Scott whirled around and fired. Day Pardee jerked as the bullet hit its mark, and he stared in disbelief before he fell to the ground.
"They got Pardee," one of his men yelled and the raiders retreated, not bothering to take their wounded with them.
Teresa ran over to Murdoch and they both stood watching Johnny and Scott. She threaded her arm around Murdoch's and felt his body trembling. She couldn't believe it was over. How close had they come to losing? And at what price? Men she knew lay dead in the courtyard, husbands and fathers to families she had grown up with.
Johnny still lay propped against the tree trunk, his gun lying next to him. She couldn't tell how badly he was hurt. The fall alone could have killed him. She watched and listened. The silence after the battle was almost painful, and she couldn't help but hear Johnny and Scott.
"That was good shootin'." Johnny looked up at Scott and Teresa wanted to get closer but Murdoch held onto her arm.
"Thanks, Brother. We'd almost given up on you."
Would Johnny ever know how much Murdoch had given up on him?
"Well," Johnny smiled, "you had your plan, and I had mine."
His plan had almost gotten him killed, Teresa thought as she watched him struggle to stand.
Scott's soft urging for him to take his time was ignored, but she could hear the groan of pain as Johnny reached his right arm out and held onto Scott's shoulder to steady himself.
"I can make it," Johnny insisted, though his words were as shaky as his legs as he started walking toward the house. Teresa watched Johnny take a few swaying steps and then
simply keel over Scott's waiting shoulder. Without missing a step, Scott carried Johnny toward them, arms and legs dangling like a rag doll's.
Teresa reached out and touched Johnny's arm as Scott hurried past her with Murdoch limping with the help of his cane behind his sons.
She looked out over the courtyard. Lancer had won this time. There would be more wars to come, different enemies, different causes. When the wounded were tended to and the dead buried, she would begin her fight again. She had fought as hard and as valiantly as any man here today because she had the most to gain. Lancer was hers. She turned to go inside the house, taking one last look at the carnage. Nothing was worth having if it wasn't worth fighting for.
She had just begun to fight.
The End (Part One)
