Chapter Ten
Scott rested for awhile until Maria called him back down for lunch. Murdoch was still not there and after eating a roast beef sandwich and drinking a glass of cool tea,he had headed out to the barn to check on Barranca.
The palomino raised its head and snorted a greeting as Scott grabbed an apple from Johnny's hidden store. The horse snatched it from his hand and chomped on it with delight. Barranca was not the only one missing Johnny. His hopes of he and his brother confronting Murdoch this evening seemed to have been derailed. He would have to face his father alone. But what would he say? Nothing overt had happened, just an escalating tension…and a disturbing feeling of distrust when he was in Murdoch's presence.
Whatever it was, it had to stop. He couldn't continue to live like this. And with Johnny gone, he had no buffer. God, how often had he played that role between Johnny and Murdoch? He felt a flash of anger that Johnny was not here when he needed him.
The sound of Cipriano shouting at a vaquero caught his attention and Scott patted Barranca's nose before heading back into the courtyard.
A horse had broken the corral fence and several men were trying to keep the rest of the horses from escaping the enclosure while Cipriano herded the horse back to its home.
"What happened?" Scott asked.
"Estúpido," Cipriano cursed as he climbed out of the saddle, his own horse acting nervous. "Felipe, he kills a puma in the high country, then brings the hide back and asusta– scares – the horses. He will remember what he has done when he rides drag on the next cattle drive."
Scott slapped Cipriano on the shoulder. "Remind me never to do something estupido around you."
Cipriano chuckled. "You are learning the language, Senor Scott. Juanito has taught you well."
The mention of Johnny's name sobered Scott and he looked back into the stable, Barranca's blond mane dimly visible toward the back of the building.
"I think I'll take Barranca out for a run, let him stretch his legs."
"Si. He misses his Juanito."
"We all do."
Scott headed back to the stable. Maybe a workout would be good for both him and Barranca.
Somehow time had gotten away from Scott and it was near dinnertime before he loped into the courtyard and handed a tired Barranca over to Jelly. The old handyman's nod of approval said more than a thousand words and Scott knew he had done the right thing for Johnny, even if his brother had decided to head to Chicago, of all places.
The smell of ham and sweet potatoes greeted him as he opened the front door. He barely had time to take his jacket off and hang his holster from the peg on the wall before Teresa grabbed his arm and escorted him to the dining table.
"Don't say anything to upset him," Teresa warned as they entered the great room and saw Murdoch sitting at the head of the long dining room table. "He's been a bear all day. I think it's because he's worried about Johnny taking that trip to Chicago."
"What on earth made him go there? I thought Johnny hated traveling."
"So did I. But he seemed determined to go yesterday morning. Oh Scott, I don't know what is going on here. But please, try to fix it. Murdoch has been impossible with everyone."
Scott leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "I'll see what I can do."
Scott slid into his seat aware that Murdoch was deliberately trying not to make eye contact with him.
"I understand Johnny took a trip with Sam," he said, coaxing his voice to sound as normal as possible. "Chicago I'm told."
Murdoch nodded. "Sam has a medical conference there and we thought it would be a good opportunity for Johnny to see the city."
"He never mentioned it."
Murdoch busied himself with buttering a biscuit while he talked. "Sam had no intention of going until we realized how hard it would be to keep Johnny confined to the house. It would only be a matter of time before he would be in the barn trying to saddle Barranca."
"So you sent him on a stage from here to Stockton. Didn't it occur to either of you that Johnny was in no shape to be on a stage? And might I remind you that riding on a train is not all that comfortable either? What were you thinking?"
Murdoch raised his head and squared his shoulders but Scott would not be denied.
"When I left here Johnny was barely able to get down the stairs alone."
"Sam felt that Johnny was healed enough to make the trip."
"But why on earth would he go? Johnny hates big cities and crowds. He hates train rides and more than anything he hates being coddled. We both know that Sam will fuss over him like a mother hen."
"The alternative was staying here being fussed over by Teresa and Maria, and looking at Barranca everyday knowing he couldn't ride."
Scott lost a little of his bravado. It made sense in a way.
"How long will he be gone?"
Murdoch shrugged. "A month. Maybe longer."
"That leaves just you and I," Scott said softly. Another reason, he thought, why Johnny's timing seemed unusual.
Murdoch raised an eyebrow. "It that a problem?"
Scott stiffened. "It might be."
"Just what is that supposed to mean?"
Scott could not keep a rein on his tongue any longer. "It means that you have been secretive and standoffish since the day Johnny was hurt. And I'm tired of it. I have done nothing wrong, at least that I know of. To tell you the truth, I was expecting Johnny to be here tonight so we could talk to you together."
"There's nothing to talk about. I've been worried about Johnny, that's all. I'm not sure where you got the idea that I've been trying to avoid you."
Teresa walked in, and set a platter ofham next to a bowl of sweet potatoeson the table then hurriedly returned to the kitchen before the inevitable explosion.
Scott cleared his throat. "I don't believe I mentioned the word avoid, Sir. I said secretive and standoffish. Have you been trying to avoid me? Now that I think about it, that appears to be exactly what you have been doing."
"I have not been avoiding you. I've had other things to worry about. I didn't realize that I had to baby sit you. You've been here long enough to know your responsibilities and to carry them out. I expected you to understand that Johnny was hurt and needed my attention."
"He didn't need your attention as much as he needed a little honesty. He was the one who asked me if I knew what was bothering you. He was the one to ask me what I had done to make you mad. And he was the one who felt guilty that our roles had been reversed and you were treating me like you have always treated him."
Murdoch jumped to his feet. "How dare you! What gives you the right to question me when you aren't even..."
"Even what?" Scott demanded, turning to look up his father.
He watched in astonishment as Murdoch suddenly dropped his head and dropped his arms to his sides.
"Don't push, Scott. Please. Don't push. I can't tell you what I don't know myself." The pain in Murdoch's eyes took Scott's breath away. "I know it is a lot to ask, but I'm asking you to trust me."
Scott could only nod. Any words he might have said were forgotten in the face of his father's desperate appeal. He watched Murdoch get up and walk toward the stairs. Scott heard him climb the steps slowly, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Scott sat back and stared at the ham, his appetite gone. He'd never seen his father so troubled. He looked at the empty chair beside him. Johnny's chair. What did Johnny have to do with this? Why had he gone to Chicago? Why had he been in such a hurry to go? His anger at Johnny for leaving him here alone with Murdoch grew, along with a burgeoning suspicion that his brother knew more then he had let on.
He stood up slowly. He would honor his promise and not "push" Murdoch. But that didn't mean that he wouldn't try to find some answers on his own.
Half an hour later, Scott had his horse saddled and he disobeyed the cardinal rule of not galloping before reaching the other side of the Lancer arch. Val was Johnny's good friend. Maybe he knew something. Someone had to know what was going on here. If he had to, he would follow Johnny to Chicago.
Johnny awoke to the clatter of the iron wheels on the tracks keeping cadence with the throbbing of his arm. His berth swayed and bucked as he looked out the small window and saw the end of the train. A lantern swung from the caboose, a half a dozen cars behind, following like a snake behind his car as the train tracks wound through a vast landscape just coming into view in the purple mist of morning.
Sam said they would be changing trains when they got to Ogden. He wanted nothing more than to be out of this claustrophobic berth, but he feared he would find the same thing on the next train. And he had another five days to go. He was beginning to think he wouldn't make it.
But he was doing this for Scott. And if it meant riding on the top of every train from here to Boston he would do it.
Johnny saw the black drape slide open and Sam was swaying in the aisle, a glass of something in his hand.
"Take this, and no argument," Sam ordered.
Johnny took the glass and sniffed at the contents. "Laudanum. I don't want…"
"Take it, Johnny. We had a deal. You've been moaning in pain for the last hour. Now take it, or we head back home when we reach Ogden."
Johnny drank it reluctantly, wishing he hadn't agreed to let Sam travel with him. It wasn't long before he felt the pain in his arm and ribs ease and his eyes grow too heavy to keep open.
Johnny was not sure how much time had passed as he awoke to the sound of the train's shrieking whistle and the hiss of steam as the engine chugged to a stop. He heard a flurry of activity in the aisle on the other side of his drawn curtain and he carefully pulled it open just enough to see a line of both men and women walking slowly toward the car's exit. It appeared that Sam was not in any big hurry and allowed the car to empty before pulling the curtain open all the way and smiling down at him.
"We have about two hours before we board the next train. How does breakfast sound?"
Johnny wasn't very hungry. Between the motion of the train, the laudanum and his worry over Scott he would gladly forgo the meal. "How about a cup of coffee?"
"How about a couple poached eggs? Nourishing, but easy on the stomach?"
"Is this how it's gonna be? You fussing all the time?"
Sam chuckled as he helped Johnny struggle out of the cramped berth. "You've given me plenty of practice. Now let's get that breakfast before the next train arrives."
And that's how it was the rest of the trip. Though the next train had a Pullman car and it was just about the most elegant thing Johnny had seen outside a bordello,he still found it hard to find a comfortable resting place with the heavy cast on his arm and his ribs protesting all the time. Besides, Sam was a lot harder on the eyes than a working girl.
Johnny had no idea how long a trip it was from Lancer to Boston. He had naively thought that once he boarded the train in Sacramento he would stay on it until he arrived in Boston. But so far they had changed four trains before, at last, they pulled into the Boston Station.
Despite the luxury of the Pullman cars, Johnny was exhausted and hurting. He was looking forward to solid ground and a steady bed.
Johnny waited amid the noise and confusion of people arriving for their train or picking up passengers. He felt conspicuous sitting on the bench, his arm supported by the black sling. Everyone seemed compelled to look at him. His pistol concealed inside the sling gave him a modicum of security. He remembered Sam catching him slipping the gun into the holster Jelly had fashioned for him and, to the doctor's credit, he had only raised an eyebrow. Sam knew Johnny Madrid was never truly safe anywhere.
A few minutes later Sam arrived in a cab with their baggage stowed in back and they were off to the hotel. A short ride later they arrived at the Parker House. Johnny wasn't prepared for the size or the grandeur of the hotel and he felt even more out of place. But Sam took charge and they were soon following a bell hop to the second floor where they shared adjoining rooms. This was the world Scott had come from. He hadn't realized, until now, what a transition his brother had made from this life to part owner of a cattle ranch. It made Johnny all the more determined to prove that Scott was who he was. His brother had worked too hard to have it torn from him because of false allegations.
Spotting a comfortable looking chair facing the fireplace, Johnny sat down heavily. He was tired, hurting and wholly at a loss as to what to do next. He was totally out of his element here. What would he do if Harlan refused to see him? Pull his gun on him and demand the old man tell him the truth? Somehow, he knew that was not going to work. So what then? He had thought of a lot of things as he traveled across the country. But he had only thought of what he wanted to do, not how to do it.
Sighing heavily, he ran his hand through his black hair and stood up. "Putting this off isn't gonna get the answers we need."
"You've had a long trip, Johnny. Rest today and we can go see Garrett tomorrow."
Johnny shook his head. "I didn't come all this way to lay around here. I'm gonna have a talk with the old man and get this settled."
"Let me freshen up a little and I'll be right with you."
"No, Sam. I've got to do this on my own. If I don't get anywhere with the old man then you can start asking around. At least this way, we'll know where we stand."
"Johnny, this is not Morro Coyo. You don't know how to get around a city this big."
"I know the address and I can get me one of them cabs. I'll be fine, doc."
"You are far from fine," Sam said a little too loud, his exasperation growing by the minute. "You're exhausted and in pain. I can tell by your face. You can't lie to me, young man."
"I'm not trying to lie to you, Sam. It's just that I got to get this done as soon as I can. Scott is back home with Murdoch and I don't know if Murdoch can keep from telling him what's going on. Even when I have the proof that the Pinkerton's report was a lie, I could still lose him. I can't take that chance."
Sam nodded. "All right. But let me come with you in the cab. I'll wait until you have talked to Garrett. At least I'll be there if you need me."
A smile small sneaked across Johnny's face. "Don't you ever get tired of fussin'?"
Sam chuckled. "It's part of the Hippocratic Oath."
"The what?"
"The rules a doctor promises to follow. And no, I never get tired of fussing when fussing is necessary. Now give me five minutes to get ready."
Johnny sat back down to wait. In truth, he was glad Sam was going with him. Even though he would not be by his side when he talked to Garrett it would be reassuring to know he was outside waiting if he needed him.
Johnny paid no attention as the cab wound its way up and down street after street. In reality Garrett's house was not that far away, but the streets were so long that it seemed to take forever before the cab reached an intersection and the horse clopped on down the next cobblestone street.
Finally the cab came to a complete stop and Johnny looked out the window at a three story brick building. Even with the trees that lined the pathway to the front steps, it looked cold and uninviting. This is where Scott grew up? He suddenly felt a pang of guilt for having so much more than his brother had. Even though he didn't always have a roof over his head, or food in his stomach, he didn't have to live in a place like this. It seemed devoid of life.
He gave Sam a nervous smile and climbed out of the cab. He reached the steps and climbed them slowly. Not just because he was tired, but because he was about to look into Scott's life and he didn't know if he really wanted to. Ignorance was bliss, someone had once said. At this moment, he deemed them right.
Johnny patted his sling, feeling the familiar shape of the holster and gun then knocked three times on the foreboding front door.
It took several minutes before the door finally opened and a stiff- backed man in a black tailored suit stood in the doorway. The man arched an eyebrow and looked down on Johnny from the last step that led into the house.
"If you are looking for work, there is none here," he said with repugnance.
Johnny held his temper. He had come too far to blow up at the first slight. He knew there would be many more to come. "I'd like to speak to Mr. Garrett."
"Who are you?" the man demanded.
"You can tell Mr. Garrett that Johnny Lancer has come calling on him. He'll know who I am."
"I highly doubt that."
"Look Mister, I just want to see Mr. Garrett."
"You'll find Mr. Garrett at the King's Chapel Burying Ground," the man said as he began to close the door. "He was killed in a buggy accident two months ago."