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CHAPTER 19 - HOME COOKING

Scott slung Johnny's arm over his shoulder and Teresa grabbed the wounded man's newly donned pants' waistband, and between them they got him safely into the great room. Once they had deposited him on one of the couches and had taken seats on either side of him, they looked up expectantly at the two men already in attendance.

Murdoch was leaning against the fireplace, his face set in a stern expression. The sheriff was hovering, looking worried, watching Dr. Mendez leave. As soon as the doctor was out the door, Gabe poured himself a shot of rye, and with only a cursory glance at the new arrivals, he sat down heavily in an armchair.

"What's going on?" Scott asked guardedly.

Murdoch took a deep breath and left his post against the mantle. Dropping unceremoniously into the remaining armchair, he said, "Damned if I know." Only then did he acknowledge Johnny's presence. "What's this?' he asked his younger son. "I thought you couldn't walk."

"Only made it because of these two helping me along," Johnny said with a smile.

"You seem mighty bright all of a sudden." Murdoch wasn't sure why, but it was irritating him that his three children were seated closely on the couch, rubbing shoulders and looking as if they had banded together to keep something from him.

Teresa showed signs she had been crying, but still, she looked in better spirits than the last time he'd seen her. Johnny was pallid in comparison to the purple bruises on his neck and eye. He seemed alert, though, and his spirit had returned. Scott simply looked cool and unnaturally collected. And they all appeared to be somewhat. . . determined, Murdoch thought. He asked suspiciously, "What are you three up to?"

The Lancer boys and Teresa exchanged glances without saying anything, then Scott acted as spokesman. "We're here to find out what the sheriff has concluded, if anything. Also to make sure that the Gundersons, as well as others, don't get accused of any crimes without some merit."

It was Gabe and Murdoch's turn to look at each other. Gabe sat forward and said, "All right, let me ask you a few questions then, since we have you all together. Maybe we can get to the bottom of this whole mess. Miss Teresa, now I don't want to upset you or anything, but you're the one that discovered the body of Mr. Garrett, and there are some things here that just don't add up. You understand we need to find out the facts."

She nodded. Johnny took her hand for courage.

"You left Johnny's room, crossed the patio and stumbled on the body?"

"Not exactly," she said quietly. "I did leave Johnny, but I went out to the front of the house to see what was going on. One of the hands told me they'd captured someone, well, who turned out to be Mr. Rinaldo. I went to. . . to look at him."

Murdoch, displeased, asked, "You went to the guardhouse?" Even if Rinaldo had turned out to be friend rather than foe, women were forbidden to go near the old guardhouse, for their own safety.

"I didn't go more than a few steps in that direction when I thought better of it, and that's when I remembered I'd left my bag of knitting in the patio, by the-" She stopped and Scott nodded to her in encouragement. Murdoch gave her a smile as well, so she continued. "It was by the fountain. I sit on the edge sometimes. . . " She thought to herself that she'd never sit there again as long as she lived. "He was hiding in the bushes." She shuddered.

Johnny asked with annoyance, "Sheriff, do you have to dredge all this up again? Didn't she already tell you what happened? Now look what you done, you got her cryin' again."

At the sight of the tears welling up in the girl's eyes, Gabe stuck a finger in his collar and tugged at it. He turned to an easier target. "Well, what about you, Johnny? Did you follow her out there?"

"Nope," Johnny replied. The sheriff looked at him as if expecting him to say more, but Johnny just crossed his arms and smiled civilly.

Murdoch asked, "Son, you didn't step out onto the patio? Maybe you saw someone out there?"

"You mean like the person who killed old Harlan? C'mon, you know I couldn't make it five feet from my bed, Murdoch." As if to emphasize being unfit, Johnny shifted, winced, then pressed one arm to his belly.

Scott gave him a skeptical look, which Murdoch caught. He weighed his sons up for a moment, then told Gabe, "I found Johnny in his room, bleeding. His back wound had re-opened and he was trying to clean himself up."

"You didn't bust that open by an encounter with the victim, by any chance?" the sheriff asked with authority.

"Sheriff!" Scott started to stand in protest, but Johnny grasped his arm and tugged him back down to his seat.

"It's all right, Scott," Johnny said to his brother. "He's tryin' a hit or miss line of questioning." He then turned to the sheriff. "And anyway, what if I did go out there? And I'm not sayin' I did, but what if I had gone out to the patio? And maybe, just maybe I found our Teresa being attacked by Garrett out there in the dark with nobody to protect her."

Murdoch warned, "Johnny-"

Johnny ignored his father. "You know, sheriff, maybe Garrett was on his way to murder me, because we all know he tried twice already." Johnny looked at Scott. "We've figger'd that much out, huh?"

Scott slowly nodded. "Yes, he knifed you in Morro Coyo, then tried to suffocate you in your own bed." He spoke as plainly as a courtroom lawyer, even though his stomach was churning with anxiety. He could see where this was going, but he wondered what Johnny was getting himself into.

"So Teresa here was scared out of her wits, let's just pretend." Johnny gave her a confident smile. "She had no weapons on her, only her bag of knitting that she found in the dark. Isn't that right, honey?" He waited for her nod, seeing the fear in her eyes - not fear for herself but for him. "Trust me," he whispered. Then loudly, "Garrett rushed her and she grabbed one of them knitting needles, jabbed at him. She only meant to fend him off, let's say. He was hurt but he knocked her down."

Everyone was listening to him raptly so Johnny continued, carefully choosing his words. "Maybe I ran over to . . . get her out of harm's way, back inside. But when she was gone, and I turned back, Garrett pulled the needle outta his neck and somehow he'd got to his feet. He was staggerin' around, bleedin' like a stuck pig and then he pulled a long blade outta his stick-."

"His cane," corrected Scott flatly. "It's a cane-sword with a concealed blade. He's carried them before, but this one must have been new."

"I wondered what he was doin' wandering around with something so lethal. Considerin' his history, and all," Johnny said flippantly to his brother. "Didn't you check him for weapons?"

"I searched his belongings, but I had no idea it was anything more than just a cane," Scott said by way of apology.

"That a fact?" Johnny shrugged it off and turned back to the sheriff. "Well, we struggled and somehow this long blade, uh, got stuck in him and he fell in the fountain." Johnny looked down at his hands, picturing the blood that had been on them. He felt totally drained, but he knew he'd done the right thing. Raising his head, he looked uneasily at his father. Any worry he'd had that the old man would condemn him disappeared the moment their eyes met.

Murdoch was angry and concerned by what he'd just heard, but he didn't fault Johnny for his actions. "How is it I'm the last to know about all this?"

Johnny's reply was a hardening around his eyes, but he ruined his hard-as-nails cover by nudging Scott with his elbow and saying, "I ain't the one who was dumb enough to go and confront Garrett in the bunkhouse without telling no-one."

Scott just shook his head. "I was under the impression that you could trust your own kin."

"Stop it, you two." Murdoch almost blurted that Johnny should have just stayed in his room, but then the body on the patio would have been Teresa's, no doubt, and that was an unbearable thought.

"Well," Gabe said, nonplussed. "I just don't know what to say. Not at all."

Murdoch looked at Scott to see his reaction and found his son surprisingly calm. Teresa was staring at Johnny, with some fear of the consequences of their alleged actions mixed in with awe. Johnny blinked with tiredness. The sheriff scratched at his chin and looked very uncomfortable, and he in turn looked to Murdoch for guidance.

In the end, it was Scott who spoke up. "Well, I know what to say. Just call the death of Harlan Garrett death by misadventure. Self-defense if you will. Put it before the judge and have a closed hearing and be done with it."

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Murdoch walked with the sheriff onto the front verandah, closing the glass-paned door behind them, making it clear that he wanted to talk to Gabe alone. "You'll wire the judge in Sacramento? Get someone down here soon so we can settle this, otherwise we'll have to wait six months for the circuit judge to amble into Green River."

"I hear from the doc that Scott is sending the deceased back East. He gonna accompany the body?"

Murdoch said sourly, "That remains to be seen."

One of the men brought the sheriff's horse over. Once mounted, Gabe adjusted his hat and said, "You're sure lucky, Lancer, having sons like those two, and the girl, too. She's got sand, for sure."

Murdoch glanced over his shoulder at the three young people inside. He could make out Scott handing a coffee cup to Johnny. Turning back to the sheriff, he said, "Sometimes, Gabe, they make me feel very old and tired."

Gabe chuckled, then turned serious. "You believe in Johnny's confession?"

"I believe he protected Teresa, and I'd guess he took an ounce of revenge while he was at it, but there's a distinct possibility that the sword blade didn't kill Garrett." He thought back to the conversation with Dr. Mendez's only an hour ago.

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Dr. Mendez had stood in the great room and told Murdoch and Sheriff Stillwater: "Mr. Garrett's life did not end because of blood loss, or not entirely. Even if he'd survived the wounds, which is unlikely, my professional conclusion is that he would have died a very nasty death within the hour anyway."

Murdoch, stunned, had asked with his voice raised, "What the Hell are you talking about? Get on with it, man."

The doctor had snapped the cover of his pocket watch closed and returned it to his vest pocket. "Harlan Garrett had enough arsenic in his system to kill fifty rats."

~ • ~ ~ • ~

Investigation of the source of the poisoning led them to an unlikely source. They had determined that on the evening that Harlan Garrett had died, Juan had delivered a large basket of cooked food to his door.

"I gave him all his meals," Juan told Murdoch late that afternoon. "Jelly brought a basket from the kitchen, like he always did since Mr. Garrett was locked up over in the bunkhouse. Mr. Garrett, he just took it. Closed the door on me without saying nothing. Then I sat out on the porch and kept guard." He looked sheepish for a moment. "My girl came over to visit and I spent some time with her. That is, until Jelly started chasing Mr. Rinaldo and I left my post." He added, his young face apologetic, "I know I was supposed to be guarding Mr. Garrett, and I let you down, Señor. Now my father wants to send me to Mexico, says I've shamed him."

Murdoch stifled his instinct to condemn the young man for his mistake. After all, if Juan had remained at his post, Garrett wouldn't have been able escape and make another attempt at killing Johnny. But in the end, all three of his family members were fine and would recover in time, both from their physical as well as mental wounds. Garrett was dead and gone and hopefully Scott would get over his pangs of guilt about bringing him to Lancer in the first place.

"Juan," Murdoch said gruffly, "I want you to stay at Lancer. Just take this as a lesson learned. Next time you're given an order, you'll do well to follow it. Understood?" He turned on his heel, not allowing Juan to see the slight smile that curled his lips.

Murdoch Lancer remembered Harlan Garrett telling him, so many years ago, back in Boston, that Scotty was as a son to him. And that he, Harlan, was the boy's father.

Garrett had said: "Now, what can you give him . . . a desolate strip of sand and rock to play on? A mud hut to live in, instead of a comfortable home? Is that what you want for your son?"

As he walked back to the house Murdoch said under his breath, "No, Harlan, I want my son to live in a fortress with his family, and that's exactly what he's got, and nothing you ever do can take that away from him."

~ • ~ ~ • ~

That evening, Scott located Jelly rebuilding an adobe wall at the rear of the barn, and asked about the food that had been delivered to his grandfather. "You passed it on to Juan?"

"I woulda rather kissed a snake as fed that old man," Jelly said, his chin raised defiantly. "But as he was your kin, Scott, and I just do what I'm told to with no complaints, I hauled that basket of vittles over to his quarters. If you're thinkin' I didn't deliver it or somethin', you come out and say so. Juan took it from me. I had no time for that sidewinder, but I took his grub over jus' like I was told to."

"You're not being accused of anything, Jelly." Scott didn't add that it was a good thing that the ranch hand hadn't sampled any of the dinner destined for Garrett.

~ • ~ ~ • ~

Maria crossed her arms over her ample bosom and looked from Scott to Johnny with raised eyebrows. "Señor?" Just being questioned about her duties was enough to put her back up. "I got dinner to cook. I have no time for this."

Johnny perched on the edge of the broad-planked kitchen table and crossed his arms. "We just want to know what you fed Mr. Garrett that night, Maria. Por favor."

"There was something not good with my cooking?" Maria was affronted and didn't mind showing it. "You don't look too good, Johnny."

"Yeah, well, I feel as bad as I look, I expect, but I ain't going nowhere until we get some information," he replied with stoicism.

"Just answer the question, please Maria," Scott said, for what seemed like the fifth time. At the sight of the woman's pursed lips, Scott turned to Johnny. "You try."

With a hand on the woman's sleeve, Johnny pulled her gently to his side and spoke confidently to her. "Maria, you're not being blamed, not in any way. But I'm deadly serious. Hablo muyen serio. Tell me what you cooked for him that night."

She took her time, looking from the dark brother to the blond one, and eventually nodded. "He complained no matter what I made, you know. A fussy eater, he was. I made chicken, pollo asado, a little rice - even if he didn't like it - and beets and calabaza. The bottle of the wine you chose, Señor Scott." She hesitated then added, "I gave him simple food because he didn't like the ajolote you told me to serve him, Johnny."

Johnny made a sign to shush her, but it was too late.

Scott was frowning at him. "Okay, I'll bite," he said. "What's ajolote?"

"Ajolote?" Johnny repeated innocently.

"Don't try to squirm out of this, brother. I can tell a mile off it's not anything my grandfather would choose to eat. For a man who's got such a reputation for keeping a straight face, you're slipping."

"Oh, all right." Johnny grinned. "Ajolote is, uh, a kind of salamander. You stew it in tomato and tamales." He draped an arm over Maria's sturdy shoulders and gave her a kiss on top of her head. She blushed and shooed them out of the kitchen.

Scott kept an eye on Johnny as he followed him slowly back to his bedroom, but refrained from offering him any assistance. By the time they'd reached door, Johnny was tuckered out, the weakness from his blood loss catching up with him. After Scott puffed up the pillows for him to lean against, Johnny lay on top of the blanket with a sigh of relief.

"We're not much further forward," Scott said. "Except I now know to avoid tasting Maria's ajolote."

There was a tapping on the door. When Scott opened it, Maria was standing in the hallway. "One more thing I forget," she said. "I didn't say about it because I did not bake it, you understand."

With as much patience as he could muster, Scott said encouragingly, "You've been a great deal of help, Señora."

She beamed. "There was also a pie. Very small. It had a crust on top, so I do not know what was inside it. It had small leaf shapes cut out of the top and I could see. . . maybe it was meat inside-"

Johnny sat up. "You mean you didn't bake this pie?"

"Where did it come from?" Scott asked with urgency.

Maria looked fearful. "He told me to give to Señor Garrett."

"Who?" the brothers asked in unison.

Taken aback, Maria blurted out, "Isidro!"

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