Author's note: I have started this chapter with a combination of the endings of chapters 19 & 20 for a smoother transition.
Chapter 21
It was a scene Johnny had watched many times before, but, today, with the memories of his mama's final day fresh in his thoughts, the sight caused him to cramp up. A long shuddering sigh passed his lips as he curled over and rested his arms and head on his knees. He wanted to cry, prayed he would cry but no tears came. He felt Inez's arm wrap around him and he was back, back in that village. The sights the sounds the smells, suddenly the warm golden memories just shared quickly turned. He was running, running home with the chicken, an extra gift for his mama, stolen, killed and freshly plucked. It would make a fine broth, since she had been so sick. Memories darkened to fiery red images of yelling, hitting, fighting. Then blood, his mother's blood. There was so much. Rising to find a towel he slipped in it, fell back into the expanding pool. That's when he noticed the knife in his hand. He looked from it to his mother's eyes, those questioning eyes and felt the horror churn in his gut. He yelled at her, grabbed her hand, tried to make her hit him, swore he would find his father and pleaded with her not to leave him. She opened her mouth to speak; there were no words only more blood. He watched as the life slowly faded from her dark eyes.
Johnny slumped against Inez as she continued to hold him, kiss him lightly, and coo, "It's ok Juanito, it's ok. Let it come, let the memory come. Inez is here. It's ok."
Murdoch felt his stomach tighten when he saw the look on Johnny's face. "Something's wrong. I've seen that look before, the other day. This isn't good, Scott." He moved toward the door. A heavy hand stopped his forward motion.
"Leave him be. This is what we want."
"But, it should be me not her, I'm his father, it should be me." Murdoch's voice trailed off as he studied the scene before him. "It should be me."
Slowly, Johnny lifted his head, eyes red, face streaked with tears. "I remember."
Slipping from Inez's touch he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. With his bandaged hand he wiped his face dry and released a long steadying breath. "Still a lota holes, but… it's comin' back." He growled softly, "Not sure I like it."
"Just let it come. It is what it is, Juanito. Past." Seated side by side on the small bench in the courtyard, Inez tucked a leg under her skirt and leaned sideways, facing her young friend. Cautiously she sent plump fingers forward to smooth his tousled hair.
He recoiled at her touch, frowned. "I'm sorry, Inez. None of this is your fault and what do you get for your trouble? Shot in the arm, sent on your way, insulted. It's just that…"
"You need to realize this isn't your fault either, Juanito. No matter what you remember, it wasn't you who caused this. Sometimes things get started and… and well they can't get stopped. You of all people should understand that. There is really only one thing you need to remember."
With a tilt of his head and a lift of his chin, Johnny looked at Inez.
"You need to remember you're not alone here." She reached out once more, but Johnny jumped to his feet. For a short time he stood, motionless, feeling stiff and off kilter. Not alone? Why then did he feel so completely alone? Isolated. Solitary. Exactly the way he'd felt for so much of his life, an army of one. A force to be reckoned with.
But, this time it was worse. Where had that army gone? Where was that force now? Here he was, facing the biggest battle of his life, and he'd been deserted, left completely alone with nothing but the fear, the fear of the things he'd done.
Was it just last night he'd sought that escape? It seems a lifetime ago. Running from the pain? Since when did he run from anything, especially pain? You'd think he'd be used to it by now. But he felt so very alone. He knew he had family and friends just waitin' to jump in and lend a hand. But… to do what? What could anyone do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Only he could do this. John Madrid Lancer, army of one, and up till now he hadn't done a very good job.
Heaviness seeped into his bones, tugging on each and every muscle. His eyes focused on shadows as they twitched over the dusty earth. Shadows cast by the leaves that hung from the lone tree in the courtyard. There was little in the way of a breeze, but it didn't take much to cause those dark shapes to squirm. Gathering every bit of his strength, he inched his leaden body toward the low stone wall that surrounded that solitary tree. Dragging his heals in the dirt, the effort to lift them too great. His burden left him no choice but to sit.
He sat on that wall, out of Inez's reach. He didn't want to be touched, not now, not by anyone. No matter the gentleness or the intent, it still hurt. Everything hurt. The meager action of drawing a breath used untold effort. Just sitting upright took nearly all his concentration. Maybe this was good, this distraction. Maybe remembering wasn't worth it. Maybe if he just cracked open a brand new bottle of tequila all this would go away. Shit, who was he trying to fool? He'd tried that and it didn't work. Hell that never worked. Least wise not for long and the headache that came galloping back with it would be a very high price to pay. Nope, truth always has a way of nudging' ya when you least expect it. All ya need to do is sit back and pass the time, just like Mama. She had a way of waiting, real patient, for the truth.
"Tiempo descubre verdad." The words floated softly from his lips catching him off guard. He hadn't meant to say them out loud. They pulled on his weary mind, reminding him of where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. "Mama used to say that. Remember Inez? Whenever I lied or hid somethin' I'd done. Kinda funny the way she was always right. Time always did reveal the truth. And now… will I learn the truth, after all these years?"
He lowered himself the short distance to the ground. The wall only reached his shoulders so he was able to lay his head back, all the way back, looking straight up through the branches. The leaves barely shook. Maybe this tree was as tired and worn out as he was. His hands trembled from the pitiful effort and his heart beat with a fierce intensity, the same intensity as that day. That day that changed his life. That day he felt the white heat of pure rage for the very first time. Felt the need to kill. Shit, what kind of boy feels the need to kill? "Shit. This is not good. This is not good."
His eyes burned dry. There were no more tears.
Johnny sat completely still. Head back, eyes closed, legs stretched out before him, hands resting in his lap. Many minutes passed before he finally spoke. His first words were strong and clear. "I remember running home. Out of breath. Excited. Ready to give Mama the best day I could. I remember thinkin' I was happy." He snickered. "Happy. I was a fool."
"You were ten. You were supposed to be happy."
Lifting his head from its stone pillow, Johnny gave Inez an icy stare. "I was a fool. Fool to think I was happy, maybe a fool to think I could ever be happy. I know it sounds crazy but, it feels like that's what did it, that's what started the stampede. Just the thinkin'."
His head dropped back down. He was quiet again, sifting through the memories. "When I reached the casita I realized I'd left the guitar behind. I stopped. Not sure if I should run back and get it…" His voice sank then resurfaced as he raised his head. "Voices caught my attention. It was Mama and Socorro." He studied Inez, brows knit with a look of confusion. "She wanted to send me away." His voice lacked its original fortitude. It was child-like, drenched in pain.
"No, Juanito that could not be true." Inez shook her head. "You see? You are mixed-up, confused. She would have told me. But she didn't, this could not be true."
Nervously his tongue slid across his lip. He tasted the saltiness of his sweat. "No Inez, I'm not confused, not now. I see it as clear as I see you." His words gained strength, all hint of the child gone. "Socorro walked out the door. He was still takin' to Mama. 'It's settled then…' He stopped when he saw me, smiled a sick kinda smile then went on 'Tomorrow I leave with the boy.'
"'Sí, mañana.'" Johnny's voice lost its potency. Repeating her two simple words caused his heart to stop beating. They were just regular words, words he'd used before and since. How did they manage to swing so much weight? Just two words. Words that sliced like a knife through the air, gutting him now, just as they did then.
"How could she send me away? With him? Why not you? Or a stranger? But Socorro?" His expression reflected the pain and disbelief. "She knew what he did to me, how he treated me. How was it possible?"
Johnny bent his knees and pulled them in close to his body. Maria returned to the kitchen, unnoticed. Murdoch stood in the doorway, watching and listening. The words he just heard caused him to gasp. Scott's grip tightened on his father's shoulder.
"I just stood there, Inez." He laughed a soft edgy laugh, his voice, cold and distant. "Can only imagine the look on my face, cuz Socorro's smile got bigger, he stepped close, I could smell his breath. Made me want to puke." Johnny cringed, that very same stench filled his nostrils now. He was thankful he hadn't eaten.
"When he spoke his words dripped sweet 'Guess we'll be takin' a little trip, boy. It'll be fun, just the two of us.'" Johnny sucked in a trembling breath, the fear fresh as he felt Socorro's finger run across his cheek.
"Seems I forgot about the knife, just meant to push him away, but I cut him. Not bad, but, enough, enough to… set him off. Not that it took much."
Johnny swallowed hard. With his eyes closed he could see the way Socorro's face twisted from sadistic pleasure to red hot rage. "He was fast. Pulled a knife. Grabbed a fistful of my hair. I remember the blade, cool against my skin, then the blood. He yanked hard on my hair. Flung me back against the wall." Moving his fingers, Johnny touched where the blade entered his throat, pressed in just far enough to draw blood, make a point.
"This time I remembered the knife. Went for him, wanted him dead." The intensity in Johnny's voice faded. "His boot connected. My blade did not. The knife and that fuckin' bird hit the dirt before I did."
"He looked at me, laying there in the dirt and laughed. 'We'll have plenty of time for games Nino, plenty of time.' As he walked away, I think I heard him whistling." Johnny shivered, unable to control the fear, disgust and rage brought on by the memory.
Murdoch stepped from the doorway. Inez caught sight, raised her hand and shook her head. He frowned, stopped moving forward but didn't retreat.
"Not sure how long I sat there."
He stopped for a moment, resting his head on his knees, tying to get the shaking out of his voice. "The bird laid there, covered in dirt, crushed by the scuffle. Not much good to anyone, anymore. Kinda like me. But I picked it up anyway, that and the knife."
There was another silence, punctuated by the haunting sound of Maria as she crooned a melancholy tune. It wafted through the air adding weight to the moment.
"Things are a little foggy after that." His voice slowed as he searched his memory. "I remember walking through the door. Can't say I remember feeling anything. Don't think I was mad or cryin' or… nothing. Just all balled up inside."
"I can see her, standing there, both arms leaning on the table, her head down. When she lifted her face it was dark and angry. She started right off screamin' at me. 'You have to prove him right don't you? You steal and expect me to be happy? Why can't you be a good boy, Juanito? Why do you bring me shame?' I think she was cryin' but I'm not really sure. Her face was red and ugly, her temper in full swing."
The stillness was gone. Johnny stood. Began to pace.
"I felt the anger, start in my stomach and spread out from there. I threw that fuckin' chicken at her. Hit her right in the face. And she laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh."
"I didn't know what to say, what to do. I asked, Why Mama, why? I heard the ache in my voice and that made me angrier. I felt my hand tighten on the knife. It made me feel strong, more of a man. I wasn't gonna let it go. I remember that. There was no way I'd let that knife go."
"She walked toward me. 'So, you heard?' Her voice was kinda sweet and calm, but, her face and her words, those damned words, said somethin' else. 'Seems I've made a few mistakes in my life and one of them is you. Socorro will fix things, you'll see. It will all be for the better."
"I pushed her, can't believe I did it but her words stung, bad. I had to let her know."
Johnny continued to pace, his nerves evident in the bounce of his step and the constant movement of his hands.
"She came at me, shoved me back against the wall. Knocked the knife from my hand. I remember the sound as it clattered against a table leg. I pushed back. I couldn't help it. I'd never hit Mama; never raise a hand to her… I loved her." Johnny's face darkened. "But I was so angry, so very angry. And scared. I yelled. 'Where? Where am I going? Not that I'll get there with that pig. How could you?'"
"She told me it was for my own good. 'He'll take you back to Lancer, he promised. That life can only be better than what's in store for you here. It's the only way. You have to believe me, you need to leave. I was wrong to bring you. You belong at Lancer.' I was supposed to believe her? After all she'd told me of Murdoch Lancer?"
"Well, I didn't. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Lancer? All my life she'd told me he hated me, us. 'How can you send me there? I thought you loved me, wanted me. I won't go. You can't make me go. Not to Lancer and not with Socorro. I'll kill him before he takes me any where. Not him and not Lancer! Never!"
"I picked the knife up from the floor, headed for the door. She grabbed me. Spun me around and slapped me, hard, across the face." Johnny's hand traveled to his cheek, the pain as fresh today as it was over twelve years before. "'It's for your own good. You must believe me. You will do as you're told!'"
"No I won't. Let me go. I'll kill him and then I'll kill anyone else who tries to take me there. You said he hated us. We'd end up dead if we went back and now that's where you want to send me? Do you hate me that much? Let me go!"
Johnny's eyes were wild his breathing hard and fast. Sweat formed on his brow, he protectively wrapped his arms around his belly as his knees buckled. He sank slowly to the ground, head hung low and was silent. Only the sound of his breathing.
Murdoch had moved closer now. Unnoticed. He could almost reach out and touch his son. But he didn't. He waited, waited for the worst to come, the death of his beloved Maria and the agony of his son. Both he and Inez watched as Johnny wrestled with this final memory. The memory that held so much power.
Johnny sat back on his haunches. His sorrowful face looked at Inez. "You knew. You knew all along."
"You knew it was me, my fault from the very beginning, but not me alone. I remember as she spun me around I saw Tocón, standing in the doorway, his eyes wide. He saw her hit me, saw the blood, my blood drip from the corner of my mouth. I watched as something in him changed. His eyes lost their life. It all seemed to happen so slowly but… He grabbed at my hand. Tried to get the knife. He was so strong. He stripped it from me went toward Mama. I tried, tried to stop him. Jumped on his back. Grabbed his hand. I felt as the knife plunged into her belly. My hand still covering his. I watched as Mama looked at it then at Tocón then at me. Her eyes filling with silent tears. The blood, there was so much blood. Tocón shook me to the floor and ran off. I yelled for him to get you. Hurry, get Inez I said. Mama looked at me. Tears rolling down her cheeks. I pulled out the knife. My knife.
TBC
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