The Visit

by storywriter17

Eliot Series, No.2: Scott is looking forward to the visit of Katie and Beth Eliot, but very little goes to plan. 'The Visit' is the sequel to 'Past Imperfect'. Just to be different, it is also a sequel to 'Names' by Doc, and begins the interweaving of the Widow Morris series (Doc) with the Eliot Series (Margaret P.).

3. Chapter 3

The Visit by Margaret P.

(With thanks to my betas, Suzanne Lyte and Terri Derr) (Words: 4,813)

Chapter 3

"You look tired." There was a bounce in Katie's step as she descended the stairs on Wednesday morning.

Scott gulped air and glanced in the hall mirror. She was right. "I didn't sleep well."

That was an understatement.

He'd spent the night on Little Brewster Island; wading through saltwater at the landing place, laden down by prettily plump flesh and petticoats. His head was as foggy as the dank atmosphere around him, rum and cheap French perfume warming his blood. He'd laughed and scared a seagull from its perch—on a bridge? That couldn't be right.

"Shush, you'll wake up the neighbours." Bob Eliot collapsed next to him and pointed to the lighthouse towering above them. He propped up a half-empty bottle of navy rum in the gravel. "Stay." Then he rolled on top of the trollop in his arms.

Scott turned to the girl by his side, and his heart jolted. He no longer held the blonde with cherry red lips and powdered skin. Instead he gazed into soft brown eyes and his hands were untying an emerald green sash. The eyes smiled at him, and his innards turned liquid. But then something happened—he couldn't remember what—and all at once Teresa was there, asking Katie which necklace to wear with her dress. And then Emily appeared and Murdoch and Beth and there were too many people all together. He grabbed at Katie and she faced him, but only for a second, because then he was on his back on the ground, and Bob was standing over him in full naval uniform, flaming mad. "I'll have you flogged, Lancer." And Johnny appeared with his gun drawn. And Katie screamed. And Scott woke up. His bed was a tangle of sheets and the sun was coming through the window, and he had to haul himself up to face another day.

That was two hours ago.

"I'll be better after breakfast." He brushed aside Katie's look of concern with a smile, and escorted her through the arch to the dining table. He held the chair out for her and then sat down by her side.

His eyes kept wandering in her direction. It happened whenever they were together. Worse still, he was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on his work; his mind kept reliving conversations or making plans for what he would say or do when he next saw her.

He'd managed to keep his feelings securely under control until Monday morning, but it had been a slippery slope since then. He'd left the men working on the new bridge and headed back to the hacienda in time for luncheon—that's what Teresa had called it. "A light repast of cold cuts, salad and fresh bread." It sounded very appetising—better than the bread and cheese he would have had if he'd stayed by the river— but he was amused at how civilised they'd become at the hacienda since Saturday. But maybe things were rubbing off in both directions. Entering the back way, he discovered Katie in the kitchen courtyard playing hopscotch with some of the children.

"Well done." Scott clapped as she successfully completed the course, one hand clutching the pebble and the other holding her skirts away from her feet.

"Oh my, how long have you been there?"

"Not long."

The little girls giggled and Katie gave them a stern look. "Is Señor Scott telling the truth?"

Standing behind her, Scott held a finger to his lips, and the children giggled again. Katie whipped round, but too late; eyebrows raised he gazed blandly back. "I'm offended you don't believe me."

"Mamacita says Señor Scott is a man to be trusted, Señorita. She says we should follow his example." The eldest girl bobbed a curtesy, and she and the others scurried away before Katie could ask more questions.

Scott tipped his hat and made a quick exit into the kitchen. The little Miss—he hadn't expected that. The girl and her friends had spied him watching from the arch leading to the garden even before Katie bent over to pick up the stone. He should have looked away then, but he didn't. It had been a difficult morning, the axle on the wagon bringing the timber for the bridge had broken and they had to carry the materials the final quarter mile over rutted ground. The sun was well up by the time they got started. He'd come back to the hacienda briefly for breakfast, mainly because he wanted to hear the latest from Doc Owens, who was due to check on Johnny at about that time. Then when he returned to the bridge, he had to break up a fight. The two drifters they'd employed to help with the extra work were knee-deep in water throwing punches at each other over a card game the night before. One of them fell back against an insecure support, and the whole structure came crashing down around their ears. "Clear off." Scott had thrown two dollars into the puddle at their feet, and turned a deaf ear to the excuses—that kind of help a rancher could do without, and the sooner those young rednecks learned that the better. But then of course the bridge crew needed more men. By the time he'd diverted some vaqueros from the fencing, got the wagon back to the ranch for repairs and happened upon the hopscotch, he was hot and dirty and damned fed-up. A glimpse of stocking-clad leg and a shapely ankle in tan button-boots was just what the doctor ordered.

The memory served him well for the rest of the day, and when he came in for his supper he was pleased to find Katie in the courtyard again; this time she was sitting on the bench seat by the kitchen door shelling peas with Maria. "I wish your daughter every happiness, but it's so unfair that she can't continue teaching, at least until they have children of their own."

"Si, Señorita. We women must sometimes make hard choices. Catarina loves her job, but she loves her young man more."

Scott knew Katie was not one for airs and graces, but listening to the housekeeper's private concerns while helping her prepare the evening meal? Genteel young ladies in Boston didn't cook, and they certainly didn't chitchat with servants; their days were filled with social engagements and fashionable pursuits. Once he got over his astonishment, he helped himself to a pea from her bowl. "Sweet."

"You wait, Scott Lancer." Katie slapped his hand away as he reached out for more.

Maria smiled at them as she got up and took the bowl from Katie. "Gracias, Señorita. Supper will be ready in half an hour, Señor Scott."

She disappeared into the kitchen and Scott went to sit down next to Katie, but then Jelly appeared wanting help to get the wheel back on the wagon now the axle had been fixed. "That good for nothing, Walt, hightailed it soon as the chow bell rang. You'll excuse us, Ma'am, but unlike some, I'm not a man who likes to leave a job half done."

"The ranch work comes first, Jelly. I quite understand. It's time I went to tidy up anyway." Katie brushed some pea stalk from her skirt and returned inside. Scott watched her go, and the warm glow that had been forming inside him fizzled out.

Jelly set his cap firmly back on his head. "Well, you comin'?"

Scott nodded and followed him back to the yard. Why did Jelly have to pick now to become so damned diligent?

The evening was no better. Teresa monopolised Katie, comparing the domestic side of ranch life with the city for most of the evening, and then that blasted coyote spoiled the one opportunity they had to talk privately. Not that Scott would have said too much. Certainly it looked like Johnny had dozed off, but Scott had shared a few campsites with his brother and he'd never heard him snore. "I'd lay money Johnny wasn't really asleep."

Ulysses tossed his head and blew gently as his hooves squelched on the still damp ground the next morning. Scott patted the gelding's neck; Ulysses was always a sympathetic listener. They were on a low part of the road to Willow Crossing. "After we've finished the bridge, I'll put the crew onto extending the culverts here so you don't get your shoes wet. This road should have dried by now."

All the roads had dried by the afternoon, and Scott wasn't surprised to hear over supper that Murdoch had driven the Eliots around some of the more accessible parts of the ranch.

"It's a pity you couldn't come, Scott." Katie sat next to him at the dining table, and her arm brushed his as she reached for the butter. Her hair smelled of roses. "Murdoch took us to see the most beautiful waterfall and we drove quite a way along the river."

"Not as far as Willow Crossing unfortunately." He smiled. It was good to hear Katie so enthusiastic.

Murdoch reached for a biscuit from the basket. "We turned up the old back road towards Green River. It needs repairs."

"Would it be possible to go further afield—on horseback?" Katie looked hopefully at Murdoch. "In Boston, I go riding almost daily, but I don't get much opportunity in San Francisco. My cousins aren't interested."

Scott nearly choked in his hurry to offer his services. Katie filled his glass with water, but even after drinking, it took him several seconds to stop coughing. "Excuse me. The bridge is well underway, sir. If nothing else crops up, I could show Katie more of the ranch the day after tomorrow."

"Good idea. I'm expecting the new agent from Miller and Lux in the morning and then I've an appointment in Spanish Wells the next day, but I'm sure you won't miss my company. Did you want to go horseback riding, Beth?"

"No thank you, Murdoch. I prefer the comfort of a carriage. I would, however, like to buy Emily and Johnny a housewarming gift. Perhaps Emily and I can come with you to Spanish Wells?" She raised an enquiring eyebrow at Emily.

"There's no need to do that, Beth. I'm grateful for the thought, but…"

"No buts. I intend to buy something whether you're with me or not. I'd just prefer to know you actually liked it."

"That's agreed then." Scott put down his water glass. "Teresa, what about you?"

"Someone should stay here for Johnny." She took Scott's empty plate and stacked it on top of her own. "Besides, I've some letters I want to write and while you're all away would be a good time."

Finally the Fates were on Scott's side.

He dressed with considerable care for his ride with Katie on Thursday morning—western but with eastern flair. Pushing memories of another ride to the back of his mind, his hand passed over the brown cravat and he selected a crimson one instead. Julie Dennison was part of his past now. He would always care for her, but their romance was definitely over. He came down the back stairs and checked his choice in the different light of the great room mirror; not bad if he did say so himself.

"Very smart," Murdoch murmured as he passed from the kitchen to his desk, a coffee in one hand and his eyes glued to the latest stock agent's report in the other.

Scott started and stared after at his father. Murdoch tapped the face of the grandfather clock. "Losing time. Needs cleaning." He sat down at his desk and started rummaging in the bottom drawer. Exhaling, Scott escaped into the hall. "We should be back well before dusk."

The Eliots descended the stairs as he entered the hallway. Katie was dressed for riding in Boston-style. "I borrowed Teresa's hat. None of mine had a broad enough brim for the Californian sun. I added the ribbon. Do you like it?"

"Very much." Scott swallowed and forced his eyes upwards as she twirled.

The ribbon matched her apple green riding habit. Made from the finest Merino, its short tailored jacket and long, flowing skirt clung to her in all the right places.

"My lady." Scott bowed and kissed her gloved hand.

"Sir." Katie nodded and smiled with a slight flush to her cheeks. She slipped her arm through his and bidding farewell to Beth, they walked out to where the horses waited.

Jelly was tightening the girth on the side saddle while Teresa supervised. She grinned and raised her eyes to the sky. He was holding forth as usual. "I don't care what you say. Anyone using this contraption on a horse must be plum crazy."

Scott leaned into Katie, glad of any excuse to hug her arm more firmly. "Jelly has never been very enthusiastic about side saddles. It's nothing personal."

Spinning round, Jelly snatched the cap off his head and puffed out his chest. "Beggin' your pardon, Ma'am. I don't mean no disrespect."

"I assure you, Jelly, I'll be quite safe. I was taught to ride this way. But I take your point. It may not be the best style of riding for a ranch." Katie stroked the mare's head as he made the final adjustments to the saddle. "I wouldn't mind learning the other way if you would teach me."

"Maybe I could. Ain't hard seeing how you seem comfortable with horses."

"Thank you, Jelly. I knew as soon as we met you were a kind and understanding man. I'm sure you'll be a wonderful teacher." Katie gave him a peck on the cheek. "Next time I come, I'll make sure I bring suitable clothes."

While Jelly was doing an impersonation of a beetroot and not knowing where to put himself, Scott helped her onto the saddle. Then after a quick check of the saddle bags, he mounted Ulysses and they moved off. He looked over at Katie as they walked the horses out of the yard. "I could teach you, you know."

"I know, but I think I'll let Jelly show me. He seemed so pleased to be asked. I wouldn't want to disappoint him. I'll let you show me other things." Her eyes twinkled. Urging her horse to a canter, she was several lengths ahead before Scott spurred Ulysses to catch up.

He showed Katie a great many things that day, from the cave paintings near Cedar Canyon to the falcon chicks in the eyrie on the cliffs above the south gully. Katie was a born horsewoman, and they were able to go places he'd never dared take Julie. Even so, he cautioned her more than once. "The horse is used to the terrain, but not to that kind of saddle. Be especially careful on the hills."

"You're just afraid I'll beat you to the top." Katie laughed and urged the mare forward.

Scott grinned and gave chase. They crested the hill neck and neck. "You handle a horse well. And—dare I say it? You seem more at ease with the openness of the countryside."

"How could I not be when it is all so beautiful?" Katie turned in her saddle and shaded her eyes as she scanned the valley and the mountains in the distance. "How much of this land belongs to Lancer?"

"Almost all you can see. To the foothills in the east and up to the second line of trees that way. Murdoch purchased an estate consisting mostly of Mexican grant land when he came here and then added to it."

They walked the horses along the ridge, chatting and laughing together. The horses seemed a little restless, but Scott was too focused on how the sunlight reflected in Katie's eyes to pay them much attention. He saw the twig caught in her hair though. Did he dare reach out and remove it? "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked, if you knew what that is?" She pointed down the bank to a small tree heavily covered in bright magenta flowers.

"It's a Californian Redbud. There are quite a few around here. It will flower until about April and then little heart-shaped leaves appear. There's a bigger one up ahead."

They were riding towards a small grove of trees. A steep trail would take them from there down to Cuddy's Creek and a pretty glade where they could have a bite to eat.

Katie pointed to the far side of the valley. "Do you—"

A squirrel suddenly dashed across their path, scuttling from the copse to a tree just behind them. Katie's horse danced sideways, shaking its head.

Scott reach over to help her, but Ulysses began to play up as well and he had to look to his own. "What's the matter with you? It's only a squirrel."

They settled the animals and moved forward, but the mare kept tossing her head and snorting.

"We'll stop once we reach the shade and I'll check your saddle; something is bothering her." Scott couldn't understand it; the six-year old was normally so well-behaved. He'd chosen her for that reason. Blast it, he should have worn his gun belt; stashing it in his saddle bag had seemed like a good idea at the time, but horses often sensed dangers before they could be seen. Katie seemed more relaxed about the countryside now so maybe she would be about the gun as well. Regardless, it was better to be safe than sorry. It was probably nothing, but he'd put his gun belt on when they reached the grove, just in case.

Then his heart froze. As they entered the trees, Scott heard a low purr-like growl.

The mare reared.

Katie grabbed mane and shortened the reins. The horse sidestepped, and then backed up, stamping and snorting, neck muscles tense. Katie struggled to keep control and Scott could do nothing to help her.

Restraining Ulysses with one hand, he twisted to undo the saddle bag with the other, the gelding corkscrewing and backing up under him. Ulysses snorted in panic as Scott fumbled with the straps. The cat was on its feet, crouching, snarling and baring its teeth. It had probably been asleep in the tree, but now it was awake, angry and preparing to pounce.

The mare reared again, nostrils dilated and eyes wide with fear. Katie was thrown back. Scott fired. The cougar jerked in the branches. He fired again, and the big cat crashed to the ground with a heavy thud.

Spinning round, the gun shot still ringing in his ears, his whole body zinged like a spring released. Thank you, God! Katie had stayed in the saddle. She had held the mare in check and stopped it from bolting, but it was still prancing. Scott grabbed Katie's reins and helped her settle the horse down. "Are you all right?"

"Shush now. Good girl." Panting, Katie stroked the mare's neck. "I…yes…I think so."

For several minutes they soothed their horses before they were calm enough to navigate the path down the hill. Scott led the way to the glade by the creek. Idiot! He should have worn his gun or at least carried a rifle.

He helped Katie untangle her skirt from the pommels and dismount, finding sanctuary for her under the shade of a willow. She was trembling. Splashing water on the back of his neck, he rinsed his cravat in the creek and returned to her side with the damp cloth. "Here, use this to cool your skin. It will help you get over the shock."

He went back to the horses and retrieved the food they had brought with them. Wedging the bottle of ginger beer between rocks on the creek bed, he filled a tin mug with water, and crouched down beside Katie again. "Drink slowly."

Katie sipped and coughed, but she held up a hand to stop him coming to her aid. "No. I'm all right. It's just very cold."

"The creek is snow-fed. It comes from those mountains." Scott pointed eastward.

"I've read about wilderness, but never experienced it before. That was a little too close for comfort." She attempted a smile as she gripped the mug two-handed, still shaking. "This is not the type of country where ladies should go riding alone, I think; at least not ladies brought up in Boston."

Scott watched her. "You do get used to it."

"Perhaps I could get used to the open spaces and the climate, even most of the wild animals—maybe not big cats. What was that—a cougar? I thought so." She managed a weak laugh. Taking another sip of water, she breathed deeply. "I'm not sure I could get used to the need to carry a gun everywhere though—or the idea that it could be used on men as well as animals."

"That hardly ever happens these days."

"It just happened to Johnny, and—"Katie gave a little shake of her head and looked away from him.

"And?"

Katie didn't answer immediately, but then she inhaled and met his gaze. "And I'm told you were the one who killed his assailant."

The trembling had stopped, but a mixture of fright and challenge was not what Scott had hoped to see when he next looked into her eyes. Who'd told her?

She studied the water in her mug. "So it's true…I…no."

"Go on. What were you about to say?"

Katie glanced away. When she turned back to face him, her voice was low and unusually sad. "It seems Johnny has had a greater influence on you than the other way round."

Scott stiffened.

"I shot a man attempting to kill other men, one of them my own brother. I will not apologise for that. I take no pleasure in it, but I killed men with less cause during the war." Snapping the stick in his hands, he stood up and took a step towards the stream. He could feel her eyes on his back. Breathe, Lieutenant Lancer—about face. "What would you have had me do?"

"I don't know. I'm not saying you were wrong, but killing in war is different." Katie drained her mug and looked up. Strands of hair hung loose around her face. "I do wonder how men recover from the traumas of war. How you recovered." She blinked rapidly and looked away again, a slight tremor in her voice. "I had thought the war was over, that the killing was over, but now I find that here in California it's still part of everyday life—your life."

Scott rested his head against the gnarled willow bark. She'd nearly been killed through his negligence. She had a right to be a little upset. "It's not a big part of my life, and God-willing it won't be any part of what lies ahead, but my future is here at Lancer with Murdoch and Johnny. It's not their fault, but there is certainly more risk here than in Boston of my having to use a gun again."

The air smelled of warm grass and woodland, and sunlight glinted through the canopy above them. A cicada began to sing. The grazing horses and the splash of water over rocks were the only other sounds to be heard.

"Grandfather McIntyre says when an obstacle appears seek another path or come back to it later with greater understanding."

"He's a wise man."

"Forgive me. I'm shaken and not myself. Let's talk about something else." Katie closed her eyes. Then turning where she sat, she began to unwrap the cloth holding their food. "It's amazing how hungry fresh air and a little excitement can make one feel." She took some cornbread and an apple and pushed the remainder towards Scott. "I think I could manage some of that ginger beer now if you would pour me some."

Scott looked up and watched a sparrow add a straw to its nest high above in the branches. Rubbing the tension from his neck, he went to retrieve the bottle of ginger beer from the creek. The glass felt cool enough and nothing fizzed out when he tested the stopper so he settled down beside Katie and poured a little into both mugs.

Katie bit into her cornbread, quickly cupping her hand under her chin when some crumbled onto her lap. Once finished, she picked up one of the crumbs and popped it into her mouth. Catching his eye, she blushed. "Waste not, want not."

"I remember you always did have a healthy appetite for a girl."

"That's an awful thing to say to a well-bred young lady, Scott Lancer. You'll be accusing me of being fat next. How dare you?" Katie laughed.

He followed her lead. "Not fat, just nicely proportioned."

Katie threw her glove at him. Scott ducked and lay down on his side. Resting on his elbow, he picked up the kid leather gauntlet, cream-coloured, with long fingers and a small pearl button where it flared at the wrist. It felt soft and warm from recent wear. "Are you challenging me to a duel?"

Katie blinked. "You always were the most annoying boy."

"But you liked me. Bob told me so—soon after we started at Boston Latin together. He said you had a crush on me."

"Well, he had no right. Even if it was true—and I'm sure I don't recall any such thing—I'd have only been nine years old. I grew out of it."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I was too much of an eleven-year boy to appreciate the compliment at the time. I'm much wiser now."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed." Scott held Katie's gaze.

She turned her head and studied the daisy-strewn grass beside her. "Are there no young ladies in these parts that interest you?"

"Oh, there've been one or two who have held my attention for a while, but no one with the right combination of wit and beauty to interest me long term. And you? When we last met in Boston gentlemen surrounded you like moths drawn to a candle."

Katie discarded her hat. Looking upwards, she scooped back chestnut locks and began to re-pin her hair. "I've always thought moths and flames were not very compatible."

"I applaud your judgement." Scott took a bite of his apple, his face solemn but his eyes teasing.

Her nose gave a little twitch. Having fastened the last clip, she took a sip of ginger beer as her eyes danced over the top of the mug. "At the risk of sounding overly poetic, I choose to wait for a man carrying a candle that shines as brightly for me as mine does for him."

"And if you don't find such a man?" Scott could feel his heart thump in his chest.

Katie placed her mug on the ground and began picking daisies. She used her nail to split a stem. "Then I stay unmarried. I'm happy in my own company as long as I feel useful in the world." She threaded the stem of the second daisy through the first. "One of the great advantages of being an Eliot is that I don't need a man to keep me, and one of the great advantages of being my parents' daughter is that they will allow me to make my own choice."

Scott plucked a daisy and handed it to her. "Murdoch allows me that freedom—I don't mean just in terms of whom I might marry one day, though that too. Grandfather never would. I think one of the reasons I decided to stay was my father's willingness to treat me as a man. He respects my opinions and my choices. And if I make the wrong ones, I know he'll still be there to back me up."

"Papa would say that's what being a father is all about."

"Would he? I've very little experience in that regard. I've got a lot to learn about what it is to be a father—and what it is to be a son for that matter."

Katie put out her hand and squeezed his. "Mama says Murdoch never stopped worrying about you and seeking out information about your life. When he stood as my godfather, it was the first time he came from California to Boston to see you. That was before the gold rush, before the transcontinental railway or even a decent stagecoach service existed. It must have taken him months—and all his savings. I'm not sure many men in his position would have gone to such lengths."

"No, there's something in that." Not that Scott hadn't realised it before, but somehow when Katie put it into words, the information registered more firmly in his brain. "You know, Katie Eliot, when you're not taking me to task, you're quite good to talk to."

Notes:

1. This story is the second in the Eliot Series. The first was Past Imperfect, 2014. The Eliot Series has its roots in From Highlands to Homecoming, 2014, a back story of Murdoch Lancer's life. Most of the significant non-canon characters in the Eliot Series were created originally for From Highlands to Homecoming. Bob(by) Eliot's career choice appears in Chapter 31: One Down and Chapter 48: and Cipriano Ramirez's daughter, Catarina, started at teacher's college in September, 1866 as mentioned in Chapter 48: 1865. The story of Johnny and the bloomers can be read in Chapter 30: Ups and Downs.

2. This story links to Names, 2014, of the Widow Morris Series by Doc. Some of the dialogue and ideas related to Johnny and Emily in this story were provided by Terri Derr (aka Doc).

3. This story has small links to various episodes in the Lancer television series, but in particular Legacy, Series 2, Episode 10.

4. Henry Miller and Charles Lux combined their butchery businesses in San Francisco in 1858 and expanded into cattle raising. They became the largest cattle producer in California and one the largest landowners in the United States. The company played a major role in the development of the San Joaquin Valley.