Worth Its Weight In Gold
Disclaimer: If you recognize it then I don't own it.
A/N: For Whumptober 2022 #23 At the end of their rope- hold them down
Scott had first seen his brother when he had leaned out the stage window to see why they had stopped. He was a tired, dusty, and trail-worn cowboy with a saddle and gun looking to bum a ride to town. He practically sat in his lap as he moved to sit next to him. They had shared a mutually disgusted look at the appearance and attitude of one another. His brother hadn't really apologized just commented on his clothing choices in a passive-aggressive way. Scott had been tense and bitter about finally meeting his father after over two decades. Stewing about the man that had fathered him but had promptly abandoned him without even meeting him after his mother had died. He had never bothered to even write to his son. He would be meeting that man soon and hadn't felt prepared. He had been trying to distract himself from his anger on the hot bumpy stage when the brother he hadn't known existed had fallen into his life. It was a harsh realization for both of them when Terresa had broken the news to them. They had both been denied a father in their life, thanks to Murdoch Lancer. Now it seemed they could have grown up with a brother too if they hadn't been abandoned by the man that was supposed to love and care for them above all else.
Murdoch limped behind him as Scott tried to ignore everything around him to take his precious cargo into the house. He could still smell the gunpowder thick in the air as the blasting of rifles still rang in his ears. Cries of pain and the sound of laments over lost loved ones echoed through the impromptu battlefield. He ignored it all. The battle was won and his brother needed him. He focused solely on Johnny's still and bleeding form across his shoulder.
On the wagon ride to the ranch, their ranch, Terresa had told them how much it meant to their father to have them both there. Upon meeting the man it was hard to believe that. The old bitter man who was their father had not apologized or explained anything about why he didn't raise his own flesh and blood. Instead, he had said the past was in the past. He had brought his sons to him finally so that they could help him save his one true love, his ranch. The land was beautiful, Scott had never seen such a place in all his worldly travels. The old man didn't want any favors from the strangers that were his sons. He would give them a third in payment for their help. It was a business transaction, not a family reunion.
He followed Terresa as she directed him to the kitchen. He didn't question it as she instructed him to lay his brother on the table. California was like a foreign country to him, he was still learning the customs and way of life. Johnny groaned and fought his hands weakly as Scott moved him onto his stomach on the wooden surface. Blood stained his jacket in a large scarlet stain as he carefully removed the article of clothing. The layers of clothing underneath were worse as Terresa worked to cut them off with a pair of sewing scissors.
Their father had wanted their arms and their legs and their guts. He had gotten it. He placed a clean rag over the wound, pressing down to slow the bleeding. His brother had been shot in the back saving the old man's precious land. Did his little brother prove he was man enough to hold this ranch yet, as he seemed to bleed out right before their eyes? It seemed they were helpless to save him when the local doctor finally arrived. He pushed Scott out of the way of his patient without a word and got straight to work saving Johnny. It seemed men of the west wasted little time with talk when there were things to be done.
His brother had barged into his room without knocking, touched his stuff, made fun of him, and made him concerned about the younger man when he talked about not trusting people to avoid disappointment. He was pretty sure that covered most of the bases of what it must be like to have a little brother. Concern and exasperation at the same time.
"No laudanum," Johnny cried as he hit the cup of medicine to the floor. He made such a nuisance of himself that the doctor had to continue operating without any pain relief for his agitated and clearly in agony patient.
"Hold him down," The doctor ordered tersely, covered in Johnny's blood.
Johnny weak as a new colt and bleeding everywhere fought the doctor trying to keep him alive. He kept trying to get up off the table. Yet it took Scott and their father both holding him down to keep the stubborn wounded man down. Scott couldn't help looking down at the marred skin under his hands. Scars mapped along his back telling a sad tale of a hard life with little care and much hardship. Many of the old wounds looked like the ones he had seen as a POW. Ones that had been badly healed without a doctor's care. How often had his little brother been hurt and alone?
His brother had warned him he was going to leave him out in favor of a one-man show. He had thought he was talking about running the ranch. It seemed it was about saving the ranch. Ever since Johnny had heard the name Day Pardee he must have been thinking and scheming. He had told Scott he would end up in a ditch, but Johnny had ridden right in the lions' den and had gotten shot for his trouble. Johnny had easily found the enemy. Based on the dead man on the hill he had definitely engaged them too. That must of been why the horde of riders had come with no plan or strategy, seemingly chasing the lead rider. Johnny hadn't given the old man much credit, he didn't trust him. Scott couldn't really blame him. He hadn't trusted his older brother he had just met either. He had gone alone to try and stop the land pirates by himself. Johnny had tried to stop him from following the trail of the butchers and murders. He argued, stubborn as their father, always thinking he was right, never listening to anyone else. Scott never had a chance to tell him of his plans to cut back to the ranch. When he had gotten back to the house, Johnny was gone. It felt like he'd just lost a limb. He never had known he had a brother, then he was just gone.
Johnny's hand shot out to grab Scott's blood-soaked one. Pained blue eyes cracked open to study his older brother, "Trap," Johnny gasped out trying to warn him. That one word used up more energy than he had to spare as Johnny lost the fight to stay conscious once more.
"I listened to you, brother," Scott told him softly, keeping hold of his hand, "I'm not a stupid greenhorn when it comes to fighting. I let them think we were away, then we went back to the ranch to wait for their attack. You would have known that if you stayed put instead of ridding into danger alone."
They had fought fires, gunmen, thugs, and even each other since they had arrived at their father's ranch. He hoped like hell that his stubborn little brother would fight the devil himself to live. He had just met the man that was his brother a few days prior but he knew that he didn't want to run this ranch alone with their estranged father. He wanted his brother by his side. Lancer was split up into thirds, which meant they needed three people to run it.
"He told me to fort up and wait for him," Murdoch admitted softly, looking down at the now still form of his wounded younger son.
"Wait for him to do what?"
"Find Pardee," Murdoch sighed, brushing sweat-soaked dark locks out of Johnny's pale face.
"It seemed he did."
"I as well as accused him of joining Pardee," Murdoch moved to leave the room, "He left telling me to think what I liked about him. He knew what I was thinking, none of it good."
Scott watched his fleeing father jump startled at his older son's words, "Don't you dare."
"I'm the last person he wants," Murdoch whispered without turning back to his sons, "He hates me."
"Your son thinks you never wanted him, don't prove him right," Scott let the venom and his own hurt come into his voice. If Terresa had been right about Johnny's mother leaving of her own free will then Murdoch had always wanted his second son. Murdoch hesitated but returned to his sons' side without another word.
Johnny, a rough man of the west, had seemed to have him figured from their meeting on the stage. It had felt good to surprise the smug little bastard with his riding. To prove he was more than a pretty picture. He had ridden hard and fought in a war. He was not tenderfoot that had never done hard things before. He dressed nice but that didn't mean he wasn't a fighting man underneath the fancy fabric.
"Boston," Johnny was looking at him again, "Didn't mean to mess up your outfit."
Scott looked down at the blood staining his new western outfit. Emotion built up in his throat. "Well, I guess you're buying me a new one when you break up your next twenty-dollar gold piece."
Johnny gave him a small smile as he nodded. His back arched as the doctor extracted the bullet and he bit his lip to keep from crying out in agony.
"I got you, boy," Scott held him down, "You're gonna be just fine."
Johnny had told him that he would end up with a bullet in his back. Johnny, the experienced and hardened gun hawk was the one packing lead inside of him. That didn't make Scott feel good or superior about proving him wrong on that. His brother had left the ranch planning on how to hit the land raiders first, not that Scott really understood that at the time. His brother's mind and tactics were so different than his own military ones that it still seemed hard to understand the man's reasoning and plan of attack. His actions still seemed so random and indifferent to the ranch's worsening predicament. His brother had sat and watched him be attacked and thrown into the dusty street. He wished Johnny was awake and coherent enough to explain it to him, so he could better understand this new brother of his. He wanted to get to know and understand Johnny, he couldn't lose him now. Johnny had come back, he held onto that, because no matter what else he did or thought his brother had come back to the ranch to help save it.
"I picked a good day to get shot," Johnny gritted out between clenched teeth as the doctor stitched up his back.
"It is also a good day for a family reunion," Scott added as both brothers chuckled.
Johnny sighed, closing his eyes against the pain, "This ranch thing is never going to be boring."
"Never," Scott looked from his wounded brother to his hopeful father. It was never going to be boring owning a third of Lancer with the family he had just met, but it was going to be worth it. He had gotten much more than the thousand dollars promised when he had left Boston. He couldn't wait to see what his new investments grew into.