Chapter Five
Murdoch watched as Arthur left the room, Johnny's eyes on both of them. What had Arthur said? He had no intention of telling Johnny about Arthur's suspicions. Or his, as much as he hated to admit it. But once his younger son's curiosity was piqued, nothing but the whole story would satisfy him. This time, the whole story could rip this family apart.
The door swung closed behind the lawyer and Murdoch was left to look down at Johnny. The young man was in obvious discomfort and if he could, Murdoch would medicate him with laudanum, both helping with the pain and getting past the interrogation he knew was coming. But Johnny loathed the medication and would fight tooth and nail not to take it.
"Arthur says you're worried about something," Johnny started off immediately. "Something to do with Scott. Mind telling me what it is?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," Murdoch answered sternly. "It's a private matter and has nothing to do with you."
"That's not what Arthur said. He said it involved me, but wasn't about me. If it involves me, I got a right to know."
Johnny leaned back against the mound of pillows and tried to find a more comfortable position, the small movement still causing him considerable pain. Murdoch saw the grimace and hoped Scott could find Sam.
"If I wanted to discuss it with you, I would. And I will, when it's time. For now, please, trust me that I'm doing what is best for everyone."
Murdoch saw the hurt look pass over Johnny's face. Damn Arthur for saying anything. This was not the time to discuss it, and he would not burden Johnny with the doubts that now plagued him. Without knowing it, old discussions between him and Scott would tumble unwanted into his head. He found himself second guessing everything the young man said.
"Johnny, try to understand. I'm not keeping secrets from you. I have come across some facts that need to be verified. It would be unconscionable of me to say anything until I know the truth of it. Johnny, you've lived with the pain of half-truths all your life. I know the pain they have caused you. You above anyone should know the danger in speculating. I will tell you everything when I have enough information."
To Murdoch's surprise, Johnny nodded. But the set of his mouth told him that his son was not satisfied with the answer. It stunned Murdoch to think that they had come this far, that Johnny was willing to wait, for now at least. They had come a long way since that first afternoon in the great room when two strangers stood before him. Now he had to wonder if Scott was still a stranger.
Johnny fingered the edging on the blanket covering his chest. "Tell me one thing…does it have to do with Scott?"
Murdoch could see that Johnny had his answer when he hesitated.
"If Scott's in trouble and your silence hurts him…"
Murdoch raised his hand. "I promise I will do everything within my power to help my son. Now you need your rest. If Scott is able to find Sam, they should be back in a couple hours."
Johnny closed his eyes and Murdoch knew he was being dismissed. He had come so close to saying something to Johnny. Why did this have to happen now? When they were a true family, when they were happy? It wasn't fair. Damn it to hell, it wasn't fair.
Johnny felt a light touch on his forehead and smelled the strong order of soap and medicine that always clung to Sam Jenkins clothes.With a soft sigh he opened his eyes. At last, maybe he would get out of this damn bed.
"Well, young man, what have you done this time?" Sam asked. There was worry in his voice, but no condemnation. Sam was an old friend of Murdoch's and Johnny's first true friend when he arrived here. He felt instantly that he could trust the old doctor, and Sam had never let him down. Truth be told, there were things Sam knew that no one else in the world knew. And Sam understood the trust Johnny put in his hands.
"An old stump got the better of me." Johnny grinned. "Then Murdoch and Scott got it into their heads that I couldn't get up out of this bed. Been waiting for you to spring me."
"Is that right? Well, let's have a look."
It seemed to take hours for Sam to finish his examination. By the time he was through Johnny was sweating and hurting almost as much as he did when he first woke up almost a week before.
Sam washed his hands and set the towel on the nightstand. Ladling a dose of laudanum, he gave Johnny that look that said he had better obey, or else. Johnny wouldn't give in to just anyone, but Sam wasn't just anyone. Johnny took the medicine. "You rest for a few minutes, Johnny, and I'll have a talk with your family."
"No." Johnny bristled. "You got something to say about me, you can say it in front of me. Bring them up here."
Sam nodded reluctantly. "It won't be just your decision here, Johnny. Your father still has a say in your treatment."
"I'm over twenty one," Johnny snapped.
"Yes, but not by much. Let's get them up here and make some decisions."
As Johnny watched Sam open the door and disappear down the hall he had a terrible feeling that he was not going to like what Sam had to say.
It took longer than it should have before Johnny heard the hurried footsteps approaching his room. It appeared Sam had a talk with Murdoch and Scott, and they had already made THEIR decision. Well he still had a say in it.
Johnny felt as if he were facing a firing squad as the three men filed in silently. Sam took the chair in front of his bed and sat for a moment deciding what to say.
"Get itsaid, Doc," Johnny said.
"All right. You know of course that when the block hit you it ripped a gash in your arm clear down to the bone, breaking the bone as well. Murdoch did the right thing under the circumstances…the only thing he could do; stitched up the tear and immobilized your arm. But broken bones are a funny thing. Even if they are not aligned properly, they begin to re-set, knitting in the position they are in. That is what has happened to your arm, Johnny. It has already started to set. If we leave it as it is, I'm afraid it will be useless to you."
Johnny couldn't find enough spit in his mouth to swallow.
"The wound looks clean and your fever is down, but of course I am concerned about the broken bone."
Johnny somehow found his voice. "You said if you leave it…sounds to me like you can do something."
Sam nodded. "The bone will have to be re-broken and set properly. It will require surgery and more time in bed. But it is the only chance for you to have complete use of your arm."
Johnny looked from Sam to Murdoch andScott. He could tell in their faces that they had already made their decisions. He had to admit to himself it wasn't that hard. Either do as Sam said or have a bum arm the rest of his life.
"When will you do it?" Johnny asked, hoping his voice didn't give him away.
"In the morning. I don't want that bone knitting any morethan it already has. It will require anesthesia. And afterwards you will need to stay in this bed for a minimum of two weeks."
"Two weeks! I've been here for a week already."
Scott leaned forward, patting Johnny's knee. "Two weeks will fly by. In a couple of days everyone will be back and you'll be too busy warding off Teresa and Maria's mother henning to notice the time."
Johnny glared at him. "It's not Teresa and Maria I'm worried about. It's him." Johnny nodded toward Murdoch. "He's the worst mother hen I've ever met."
"Damn right," Murdoch agreed,a hint of humor in his stern voice. "Whatever Sam says is gospel."
Johnny's eyelids had begun to close of their own volition. As he sank toward sleep he wondered if he would ever find out what was troubling Murdoch. Tomorrow…tomorrow he would ask Scott. If it involved his brother then maybe he had some answers.
Johnny wasn't ready for this. Somehow they had carried him down the hallway and now he was lying on the dining table. He felt as if he were drifting just above the table, the feeling both comforting and frightening. He tried to move his arms and legs but they didn't exist.
Scott leaned down over him, his face close to Johnny's face. "Hey, you're awake." Scott's voice sounded distant and unreal as if he were in the midst of a nightmare. Maybe he was.
"Not to worry, Johnny." Sam took Scott's place and looked down at him. "You'll just go to sleep and wake up when it's all over. Scott is going to put a mask over your face to administer the chloroform. Don't fight it, Johnny. I promise you'll be safe."
There was an odd confusion of words then Murdoch was looking down at him, brushing the bangs from his forehead. "Sam's right, Son, you won't feel a thing. And in a couple of weeks you'll be up and around again."
There was something bothering Johnny. He couldn't remember exactly what it was. Scott…Something was wrong with Scott.
Scott placed the mask over Johnny's nose and mouth and he smelled the sickening sweet odor of the chloroform. But he was still worried. "Scott…" he gasped, trying to fight the anesthesia. "Keep…Scott…safe…" And he knew no more.
Scott was both fascinated by the surgery and repelled by it. So much blood, and the seemingly callous way Sam re-broke the bone. He carefully administered the drops of chloroform onto the cloth mask to keep Johnny under, making sure he didn't inhale too much of it himself. The surgery took longer than he expected, but at last Sam was ready for the heavy splints that would keep Johnny's arm in place. He could only imagine how uncomfortable the contraption would be. But he also knew how necessary it was. The trick would be to convince Johnny of its necessity.
At last the surgery was done. Sam was satisfied with the outcome and together Scott, Murdoch and Arthur carried Johnny back to his bedroom and his waiting bed. Pillows were placed at his sides to keep him from trying to turn over in his sleep. His ribs were once again bound tightly, andhis now newly broken arm was strapped to his side. A folded sheet protected his skin from the rough wood.
Sam assured them all that it would be several hours before Johnny regained consciousness, and that they had better take the time to rest before he awoke, because he would not be happy.
Happy Johnny was not.And after being trussedup like a Thanksgiving turkey for a week he was ready to take some heads off. At the moment he didn't care who his target was, he just let loose with a salvo of venomous diatribe that would behead any lesser man. Luckily Scott was that man, and he was ready for Johnny. In fact he was waiting for this moment, knowing that when his brother started to heartily complain, he was on the road to recovery.
It was almost comical, in a macabre way, and Scott had to fight hard not to smile in sympathy. Johnny didn't like sympathy.
Sam had been over judicious when it came to Johnny, though it was not hard to understand, given Johnny's track record for listening to Sam's orders. After setting the broken bone, Sam had set his arm in three heavy strips of wood from just below his armpit to his fingertips, and then strapped the splint to his side. That left Johnny without the ability to bend at the waist to sit up orcrawl out of bed.
Sam had also been aware of Johnny's antics when he had been injured before, and tied the bandaging that held his arm prisoner behind him and out of his reach.
After several expletives, both in Spanish and English, Johnny got down to the heart of the matter. "Would you get this damn thing off me? I'm not a damn cow, I don't need to be hogtied! I swear when I see Sam he'll regret the day he ever met me. Never heard of a man being trussedup like this just 'cause he has a broken arm. All I need is a sling, and I'll be fine. Come on, Scott. I promise to wear a sling for as long as you say, just get me out of this contraption." Johnny's voice was starting to weaken, and so was he.
"Sam explained why you needed that 'contraption'. It wasn't a simple break, and you know it. Besides that, you dislocated your shoulder and broke a couple ribs. Another week and he'll change it to something lighter and I'm sure he'll let you out of bed. Patience, Brother, just a little patience."
"Easy for you to say," Johnny snapped.
Scott hung his head. "I know, Johnny. And I'm sorry this happened to you. It shouldn't have. You should never been out there on your own…"
"Don't want to go over that again, Scott. I was the one who made the decision to go out there. It wasn't Murdoch's doing."
"He goaded you into it."
"I could have said no. It was an accident. It just happened. Let's leave it at that."
Scott pushed the chair sitting next to the bed closer, looking back at the door. "I get the feeling our father doesn't think it was an accident. Has Murdoch been asking you any strange questions?" he asked softly.
"Strange…like what?"
"I don't know. About the rope and how it broke. Why it broke."
Scott saw Johnny's surprised look. "I thought I wasn't hearing things right with all the medicine Sam's got Teresa and Maria shoving down my throat. But, yeah, now that I think about it, he has been asking some strange questions. Scott, I gotta tell ya, there's something not right going on here. First Murdoch and Arthur Bell …."
"What kind of questions?"
Johnny looked up at Scott then turned his face away, nesting his head deeper in the pillows.
"Johnny, what kind of questions?" Scott coaxed.
"Nothing that makes sense," Johnny answered, his voice muffled in the pillow. "Like if you ever seemed confused about who you were."
"What?"
Johnny turned his head back. "I told you it didn't make any sense."
"Arthur was asking me about Boston. If I didn't know better I would think he was quizzing me."
"About what?" Johnny groaned, shifting on the bed. Scott quickly readjusted the pillows supporting his arm.
"Do you want something for the pain?"
Johnny shook his head. "It's not my arm. It's my legs. I've been laying in this bed so long they're cramping up."
Scott knew the feeling, lyingin bed so long after coming back from the war. He raised the blankets and began massaging Johnny's legs, probing his fingers deep into the lax muscles.
"About what?" Johnny asked again, his breath coming in short hisses as Scott's fingers worked throbbing muscles.
"I don't know. It seems like Murdoch's built a wall between us."
"That doesn't make sense. I've always been the one Murdoch's not sure of. Hell, he was downright scared of me at first. But he took to you like a duck takes to water."
"Well, the duck seems to have an aversion to water lately. At least I know I'm not imagining things."
"Maybe I can talk to him. Most times he doesn't talk to me the way he talks to you, but I can try."
Scott nodded. "Thanks, Johnny. I've got to admit, I don't like being on this side of Murdoch. I don't know how you take it the way you do."
Johnny chuckled, languidly pushing the hair from his eyes with his good hand. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
Scott saw the signs of fatigue but couldn't end it like this. "I know it's been rough on you, and to be honest, I don't know why you have stayed this long."
"It's getting better, Boston. Besides..." Johnny's voice faded as his eyes closed despite his best efforts to keep them open. Scott barely heard the last words, but he did and he felt touched beyond words. "…I stayed for you."