Broken
Chapter 9
The bedroom door crashed open, startling Scott out of his reverie; he pushed himself up onto his elbows staring over at the figure illuminated by the moonlight "Johnny! What is it? Is something wrong?"
"Yeah! You! You're what's wrong brother!"
"John!" Murdoch warned as he followed his irate son into the room "Please Son, not now! It's not the time to…"
"Why not now?" The brunet asked as he stomped over to the nightstand. Taking a match from his pocket, he struck it against his boot then lit the oil lamp. With a violent flick of the wrist, he extinguished the match then rounded on his brother "You're wrong old man, now's as good a time as any!"
"What's this about?" Scott demanded
"Boston!"
Glowering accusingly up at his father, the blond Lancer then turned his attention back to his sibling "What about Boston?"
"You're thinking of running back there..."
"Running!" The blond guffawed then gestured to the wheeled chair "I'm not likely to be running anywhere, now am I?"
"You don't need legs to do the kind of running I'm talking about" Johnny yelled shrugging off his father's restraining hand.
"Oh you mean the kind of running YOU do when things get a little tough around here!" Scott bellowed back, his eyes flashing angrily.
"Yeah that kind!" Johnny glared at his sibling. "We both know it ain't the answer!"
"John! Scott please!" Murdoch pleaded as he moved to stand between the two younger men.
Side stepping his father Johnny continued, "You don't belong there…"
"Who are you to tell me where I belong?" Scott thundered back, his face reddening with rage." I grew up there, spent almost all my life there; it was home to me for twenty -five years.
"Only because of an old mans lies and deceit…"
"How dare you! You know nothing about it. My grandfather did what he thought was best for me…"
"He did what he thought was best for himself and to put one over on a man he detested! He deceived you; he let you believe the cruelest of lies for twenty-five years…"
"Like your mother did!" Scott spat bitterly, "She lied to you too and because of her lies you grew up homeless, you were forced to steal and…and…" The blond somehow managed to swallow the word he'd been about to use moving on quickly to make his point "…but you've forgiven her, moved on! Am I not allowed to do the same?"
"Stealing and what? What were you going to say Scott? "Killing? Go on say it…"
"STOP IT" Murdoch yelled horrified by the exchange. "This isn't doing any good…"
"It's clearing the air…" Johnny snarled "…and it's certainly in need of that!" Eyes now locked on his father the youngest Lancer pointed an accusing finger in his brother's direction "What else is he holding back? What else hasn't he been able to say to me?"
Before his father could speak, Scott directed his anger back at his brother.
"What would you like me to say to you? What is it you expect to hear? Your insecurities have brought you in here! You need to deal with your problems little brother, before you dare to question mine!
"My insecurities!" Johnny's attention was again centered on his brother "You're the one wanting to run home to granddaddy…"
"John!" Murdoch grabbed his younger son by his arms and forced him backwards towards the door "That's enough!"
"Get your hands off me old man…"
"OUT NOW!" Murdoch's voice soared louder than ever before, jolting the brunet to his senses.
Holding his father's murderous gaze momentarily, Johnny finally turned away and stormed from the room.
The patriarch watched his youngest boy disappear through the door then whirled around to face his older son, trying desperately to rein in his temper. As he opened his mouth to make his feelings known, he was stunned by Scott's next comment.
"I don't want him in here again! You tell him to stay away from me!"
JMLJMLJMLJML
He had no idea where he was going! All he did know was that he didn't want to stay another minute under the same roof as his brother! Half brother he reminded himself, taking some comfort from that very fact. No, Dios he knew he didn't mean that. Scott was…well, damn it!
Throwing the saddle up on Barranca's back, he fumbled with the cinch, his trembling fingers hindering him in his efforts to escape. He cursed loudly, his voice echoing around the otherwise silent barn. Incensed by the argument with his brother, his usually acute senses failed him, and he was unaware of his father's presence until the older man spoke.
"Running Johnny?"
"Go to hell!" The brunet barked. Murdoch was on very dangerous ground.
"I'm beginning to think I'm already there!" Murdoch replied wearily, walking steadily towards his son.
The response from his father was so soft, as if to say the words to be heard would wake Murdoch from a dream, a horrible dream. Still, Johnny heard the sorrow and anguish in his father's voice and as he turned around he stared hard at his father deciding he didn't like what he saw. The older man looked pale, drawn, sickly even. His shoulders were slumped in total dejection. The brunet's rage began to subside, but he couldn't quite trust himself to speak just yet, and so just stood there holding his father's gaze.
"Come back inside son please. I don't want to have to spend the night worrying about you too."
"You don't need to worry about me." Johnny insisted.
"Well I do!" Murdoch snapped moving a step closer to his younger son "It's what fathers do…" the patriarch paused then continued in a despondent tone "…especially when their sons give them cause!"
Johnny took a deep breath and stepped away from Murdoch.
"I need to calm down…"
"I know, we all do, and your room is as good a place as any!" Murdoch replied, hoping his son would listen to him, to his voice. He knew this boy now, and he knew that sometimes all Johnny needed was a calm, reasonable voice to help him back-down from whatever precipice he was teetering on. Scott had taught him that.
Johnny dropped his gaze to the floor as he pondered on his father's words, he had wanted to get in the saddle and ride out his anger, its what he usually did when something had him all fired up. He'd never stopped to think how it might cause concern to his loved ones but then that was his trouble, he never stopped to think before he did anything, he acted on impulse. Well he'd caused enough grief already with such actions. He met his father's gaze "Alright I'll be in just as soon as I've seen to Barranca"
JMLJMLJMLJMLJML
He had finally stopped shaking, his rage having ebbed into disgust. Disgust with himself! He had lost control yet again! There was simply no excuse for his behaviour. Scott could now, as some ability to reason had returned, understand Johnny's anger, and he knew he would have felt the very same way if the situation had been reversed.
All he had needed to do was respond calmly to Johnny's anger; that was what he would have done before his accident. The event had changed him and certainly not for the better. He was impatient, irritable, thoughtless... and growing more and more mean-mouthed by the day!
His words had stung his brother; he had seen the hurt flash in the younger man's eyes. Mercifully, Murdoch had stopped the situation from deteriorating any further; the older man visibly shocked by what he had heard pass between his two sons. His father had not escaped his wrath though; Scott had spat bitterly in his direction too, when Murdoch had turned to him just as Johnny left his room. Murdoch had stared back at him, briefly pondering his response before quietly stating, "I know you don't mean that Son." With that said, he too had left the room.
"Yes I do!" Scott had snarled after his father, the words echoing around him, falling only upon his ears. He had then snatched the book from the nightstand and hurled it across the room! It had hit the wall with a satisfying thud, but not nearly as satisfying, he had decided then, as it would have been to physically hit someone if they had come close enough to him?
Shaking his head as he laid back down onto the pillows, he couldn't believe that he had become such a hateful, volatile person.
The ugliness of it all had reinforced his decision to leave. Better, he hurt them that way, than erode what was between them, with his increasing bitterness.
First thing tomorrow, he would write to his grandfather. Quite how he would explain his circumstances, he did not know, but explain he must. Surely, the older man would welcome him back with open arms. No doubt gloat a little over Murdoch's inability to hold onto his son. But Scott knew Harlan Garret's victory would be a hollow one, for what exactly would he now be gaining… merely a shadow of the man, neither use nor ornament.
TBC
Molly
