CHAPTER 10 - CABIN TALES

Scott couldn't believe that Fernando Mendoza was still alive and walking into the cabin as if he owned it.

Johnny rose to his feet almost as quickly as his brother, wincing. But far from being shocked by Mendoza's presence, Johnny seemed more concerned with preventing Scott from going for his gun.

Mendoza froze just a few feet inside the cabin, his eyes darting from one Lancer brother to the other, then to a rifle leaning against the hearth only a foot away. With both of his hands occupied by the firewood, he had no chance to go for his gun.

Johnny ordered, "No." With a hand on Scott's chest, he placed himself between his brother and the Melody's husband.

"Johnny, get out of my way," Scott said tersely. He pushed to get past Johnny, and attempted to get a clear line of fire, but Melody was in the way.

"Listen! It's not like you think, Scott," Johnny warned urgently, trying to get through to his brother.

Melody rushed to her husband's side, glancing back at Scott. "Don't shoot him!"

Scott wasn't sure if her command was aimed at him or if she was trying to hinder Mendoza. Nevertheless, he wasn't about to take any chances. "Melody, step away from him," he instructed brusquely.

With raised voice, Johnny said, "Mendoza's all right. The man who was shootin' at us out there was a Comanchero trailin' them." He nodded in the direction of Melody and her husband, standing close to each other near the fireplace. "I was right. Some hombre was after Mendoza."

Fernando Mendoza dropped the load of wood next to the fireplace and slowly straightened. He held his hands out, slightly away from his body, palms up. "I don't aim to fight you, Lancer," he said while keeping a cautious eye on Scott.

Melody looked swiftly from her husband to Scott and tentatively stepped forward. "He's not your enemy, Scott," she beseeched.

Scott reluctantly lowered his revolver. He didn't like the situation, but it was plain that Johnny saw no danger in Mendoza and that was enough for him. Scott was quiet for a moment then asked, "You want to explain what's been going on, Johnny?" He eyed Mendoza suspiciously. There was a dark bruise across the man's forehead from the fight they'd had earlier in the day, and his nose was swollen and discolored as well.

Johnny encouraged Scott to sit on the bed again, but he refused to budge. "He slipped up from behind," Johnny said, "and shot the Comanchero dead. Fernando's lucky neither of us was in any shape to shoot back at him. Would have been a mistake," he acknowledged. "Sit down, Scott." When his brother didn't move, but stood glaring at Mendoza, Johnny took hold of his upper arm and gave it a jerk to get his attention. "Scott!"

"I could have let him kill you," Mendoza pointed out. His tone suggested he regretted stepping between Scott and the Comanchero, even if he said it with a smile.

Dragging his eyes away from Fernando Mendoza, and from the sight of Melody standing too close by his side, Scott met his brother's eyes. The message in them was stern and clear.

Again Johnny said in a low voice, "Sit. If not for yourself, then for me, 'cause I can't stand up any longer." With that, Johnny's knees gave way and he sank into his chair, retaining his hold in his brother's forearm. He released it only when it was obvious that Scott was finally listening to him.

Scott slowly sat on the edge of the bed, only a couple of feet away, and said harshly to Johnny, "You look terrible."

Johnny laughed, then pulled a face and clutched at his wounded shoulder. There was no hiding that he was in considerable pain, and that the bandage wasn't entirely stemming the flow of his blood. Johnny swallowed then asked hoarsely, "Ma'am, if you could get us some cold water?"

Melody moved to the kitchen area; it was no more than a small pot-bellied stove, a battered metal sink and some poorly stocked shelves. There was a steaming kettle on the small pot-bellied stove and the remains of a plate of beans sat on a rickety table. She worked the handle of an old pump attached to the sink, but gave up after only a trickle came out. Pulling a canteen from a pile of gear dumped on the cabin floor, she poured water into a couple of tin cups. She handed them to the Lancer brothers and said flatly, "Nando went back to help you, Scott. He could have kept riding."

"You still haven't said why that Comanchero was chasing you down," Johnny said to Mendoza. When no reply appeared to be forthcoming, he added, "C'mon, that kind of man don't ride a few hundred miles just on some whim. He was out for blood."

When Mendoza finally spoke, he appeared grim. "I'll tell you this much, but it goes no further." He looked at the Lancers to make sure they agreed, and got a reluctant nod from Johnny but no acknowledgment from Scott. "That hombre, the man I killed back on the trail, he rode with Juan Paradine, the outlaw who ruled the Texas border towns for years. Paradine called himself a Comanchero, but he stole more than he traded. Even his own people hated him."

Johnny said knowingly, "The Federales have been after Paradine for years. They never got close, then all of sudden he turned up dead a short while ago." At Scott's look of query, Johnny replied, "Your newspapers ain't the only way to get news, you know."

Almost with disinterest, Scott asked Mendoza, "So some border thief who terrorized honest folk ends up dead and a member of his outlaw gang follows you all this way north? Let me guess," he said sarcastically, "that you had something to do with this Juan Paradine's untimely demise."

Fernando Mendoza faced Scott, with only a muscle at the corner of his eye twitching. "The Federales needed someone inside to take down Paradine for them. They chose me because I get the job done. I've been working with them for months. I never would have come back here if I hadn't needed to get my wife. We'll be out of here soon and won't ever be back. My people are down there, and they need someone to lead them. They're scared to stand up against the government, so they end up either in poverty or turning to crime. I know I can change things, with the backing of the Federales."

Scott saw a look pass over Melody's face, and although it was fleeting, it was plain that she hadn't heard any of this before, and that she was shaken by the news.

Johnny studied Mendoza for a minute then asked, "They caught you at some hanging offense, did they? And you turned on the Comancheros. You murdered this man, Paradine, to save your own skin." Fernando exhibited a stony face, but Johnny nodded, satisfied he'd struck the nail on the head.

Melody stood in the center of the three men. She watched her husband as they talked, but Scott found her expression hard to decipher. Fernando said something low to her about taking care of the horses and she stepped out into the dark with him, her arms crossed in the chill, pre-dawn air. They stood just outside the door, which was slightly ajar, and Scott could hear their voices but not their words. Johnny had his eyes closed but Scott was sure his brother was well aware of everything that was going on around him.

The discussion between the husband and wife became heated, then there was silence for several minutes. Scott sat with his eyes fixed on the door, wondering if she was all right with Mendoza. He was about to go to see if she needed any help when she returned alone, her features set in anger, slamming the door behind her.

Scott looked away. He stared into his cup and said nothing. He was bursting with warring emotions: concern over Johnny being wounded, seething hatred for Mendoza, resentment that Melody had ridden off in the company of her husband and was turning her back on her home and her friends. Scott wondered if the Comanchero would have caught up and exacted his revenge on Mendoza if he hadn't encountered the Lancers first and fired on them by mistake. Good riddance, he thought.

But Scott also sensed that he had already lost, not just Melody, but everything their future might have held. He couldn't picture building his own home now, nor having children around him as he worked the land. Gone was any hope of having a loving wife, enjoying evenings by the fire with her, engaging in squabbles, making love and growing old together.

He'd gone against her wishes when he'd asked Murdoch to help him secure a friendly judge, should she change her mind about divorce. He'd been a fool to think that he could eventually convince her to stay with him.

Melody came over to his side and hovered for a couple of minutes, so close her skirts brushed his knee. Scott refused to look up, but just as she turned to leave, he claimed her hand. "Melody," he started. This time her face was awash with unbearable sadness, and it hurt him to see his own pain reflected in her eyes. He asked in a whisper, "Is there any chance . . .?"

She closed her eyes and turned away, and he knew he'd lost her. Somewhere along the way, he'd slipped up. She had made the decision to remain with her husband, and there was nothing he could do about it. If there had been even the slightest chance, he'd have continued to pursue her, but now he knew there was none. But then Melody surprised Scott by returning to sit beside him on the bed.

It took her a few moments to speak, but eventually she brushed her hair back off her face and took a deep breath. "I know you won't ever forgive me for this, Scott, but I'm going with Fernando to Texas, and to Mexico if need be, solely because he is my husband. There's a saying in old Mexico: A man can't pick his relatives, but a woman can't pick her husband. He's going to get his name cleared and as his wife, I'll be with him. Soon I'm going to ride back to Lancer to tell your people you've been hurt and need help, then I'll meet Nando over at Sierra Rocks." She forestalled his protest with a shake of her head. "I wish things could have been different-."

"They still can be," Scott insisted. "There's a place for you here and there always will be, Melody. Your loyalty is misplaced. He admitted he murdered Paradine. It's just too dangerous. Who knows who may be gunning for him down there?"

"Paradine had a price on his head, Scott. I don't condone any of this, but Nando was sent by the Federales to do a job and in return they agreed to clear the charges in Texas. I know he wouldn't have killed that Texas man, I know it. They must have set him up to force him into killing Paradine."

"You don't really believe that, do you? You're going to get hurt, Melody." Scott spared a glance towards Johnny, hoping his brother would add something to dissuade Melody from such a foolhardy trip, but Johnny staggered to his feet and moved to a chair situated closer to the fire.

Melody's gaze followed Johnny, but she made no effort to help him despite his difficulty in walking even a few feet. "Nando says the Comanchero who shot at you was one of Paradine's men, acting on his own. Now he's dead, there is no danger. Those men back in Mexico, the Comancheros, well, I lived around them long enough to know that without a leader they have no direction. Paradine planned everything. He led them on raids across the border, organized bank and mine payroll robberies. He was a violent man who was hell on his gang. Those men were traders before he came along, for goodness sake. They've probably gone back to their villages by now and have gone back to trading. They won't mourn his passing, believe me."

"You don't belong with him," Scott insisted.

She gave a fleeting look at the one grimy window in the cabin. "Look, I have to ride back to Lancer. You both need medical attention and it'll soon be light enough for me to ride down the creek trail. Your folks can bring a wagon up the back road easy enough. The grade is less steep that way."

Scott knew Melody wasn't going to listen to him, but he faced her and took hold of her shoulders with both hands. "I'm going to ask you one last time, and this is from my heart, Melody. . . will you stay. . . and marry me?"

With her hair made golden from the glow of the fire, her fair skin and eyes the palest of blue, she looked as beautiful as Scott had ever seen her. He held his breath when her eyes met his, and for a moment his heart swelled at the sight of love in them. But any hope he clung to was dashed when her expression turned to regret, causing his chest to hurt with the blow of a terrible loss.

Melody rejected him with a curt shake of her head. She spoke in a whisper. "I wish. . ."

He waited with a patience he didn't know he possessed for her to finish, willing her with his eyes to change her mind, to find it in her heart and mind to choose him over the man who would surely destroy her. "You wish. . . ?" he asked.

She spoke with a fierceness in her voice he never expected to hear. "I wish I'd never met you, Scott Lancer," she hissed with her eyes blazing as she broke away.

Scott slumped back on the bed, his shoulders against the wall.

Johnny must have heard what she said because he turned in his chair to look at her intently, but he only asked, "How about making us some coffee? I'm cold."

Melody moved to the fireplace and picked up a battered kettle, then went to the door. Just outside was a rain barrel. After dipping the kettle in and filling it, she returned to put it on a hook over the flames. Scott watched her every move, but his heart had been broken.

Fernando entered abruptly, stood for a minute surveying the occupants of the cabin suspiciously, then announced he was going down the trail a-ways. "You're comin' with me," he ordered his wife. His tone told he would brook no refusal.

Johnny asked with disdain, "You leaving so soon?"

"Not yet," Fernando replied. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "We need the horse and some extra equipment." At Scott's look of revulsion, Fernando said defensively, "No point in waste. C'mon, we gotta do this fast, then get on our way." He took hold of Melody's arm and prompted her to put on her jacket. She looked back at Scott with a plea in her eyes, but her husband prodded her to leave the cabin ahead of him.

Scott slowly stood and donned his coat. He didn't feel like leaving the comfort of the cabin, but something told him that he should accompany Melody on the short trip down the trail. As he buckled up his gun belt, Johnny levered himself out of his chair by the fire and approached.

"Don't tell me you're going along with them," Johnny growled in a low voice.

Scott picked up his hat and adjusted it on his head. He winced when it brushed a sore spot, although the brim didn't touch his head wound. "If Mendoza comes back through that door without me, you shoot him."

Johnny shook his head and raised his good hand in surrender. "What I'd like to know is: why does everyone think I'm the risk-taker in the family?"

Despite himself, Scott laughed a little. "Thanks, brother."

"Hey, Scott."

Scott turned back to look at Johnny, who had taken his seat again. He asked, "What?"

"She's probably right about those Comancheros, you know. After a man like Paradine dies there's a vacuum and if nobody takes up his position of power, the men'll just go back to their farms."

"I get the feeling that Fernando is thinking about filling that position. That's no place for Melody to be. Even if she doesn't want me, well, she could still stay right here, on her own ranch."

"It's her choice, brother, and there's nothing more we can do about it," Johnny replied with commiseration.

Scott said vehemently, "Well, I'm not giving up until the last minute when she rides out of sight over that hill."