CHAPTER 15 - HARD DEALS

No mask like open truth to cover lies,
As to go naked is the best disguise.
~ William Congreve 1694

Dr. Sam Jenkins put away his stethoscope and pursed his lips. "This is one time, folks, that I'm more than happy that I made a misdiagnosis."

Johnny grinned and put his hands behind his head. "I'm more than happy with it, too." He still had slight numbness on his skin, especially on his thighs, but apart from muscle weakness, he seemed to be fine. Well, there was some pain but it was more like an ache, and he could deal with it, easy as pie. He couldn't wait to get up and walking on his own.

"But you, young man," Sam said sternly, "must not overdo it."

"No, sir."

Sam patted Johnny on the shoulder and turned to Murdoch and Scott. "If I can make an educated speculation, I'd say that once the swelling around the spine went down, and the pressure reduced, it was only time before the body healed. The pain he's been experiencing has most likely been muscle spasms. Extreme, but not damaging. But he must, and I repeat must," he ordered with an uncertain eye on his patient, "be careful."

"We will see to it, sir," Scott promised.

The pain Johnny had endured had all but disappeared once he was up and out of bed and able to exercise again. The Doc had explained it was similar to having a dislocated shoulder put right - once it was back in its socket, the pain went away as if nothing had ever occurred. Johnny did take it slow, as ordered, but mostly because he could hardly get across the bedroom on his own in the beginning, he was so weak and unsteady. As the days passed, his legs regained their strength, and his confidence grew in accord.

Scott's eye turned various shades of purple, but didn't swell up too much. Johnny felt a twinge of guilt every time he saw the black eye that he'd given his brother, but Scott hadn't held it against him. With a laugh he assured a contrite Johnny that one day he'd return the favor. "But if this is the only price I have to pay to get you up and around again, it's well worth it."

The morning came when Johnny decided to negotiate the suddenly very steep front stairs, under the watchful eye of his brother. It was the ultimate test. With wobbly legs, a firm grip on the banister and a big grin on his face, Johnny made it to the bottom of the staircase in one piece. Once both of his booted feet were firmly placed on the ground floor, Johnny proclaimed happily, "Damn, I made it!"

Scott's joy for his brother was not diminished by the knowledge that Johnny's newfound mobility meant that he would all too soon be leaving Lancer. The tall blond man laughed as he threw an arm around Johnny's shoulder. "Yes, brother, you are quite a success."

Coming from Scott, that was a great compliment, thought Johnny. "Thanks. I appreciate that. I'm just real happy I didn't trip and fall down those stairs." Unable to stop grinning, Johnny asked, "Think you can give me a shoulder to lean on so we can get to the kitchen before breakfast is over?"

"No problem," Scott replied.

Johnny was grateful to sit down on a leather chair on the verandah. He had just returned from his evening walk out to the corral to see how Barranca was doing. It was a feat that both he and his family considered astounding, considering that just over a week earlier he hadn't even been able to wiggle his toes.

From out of the dark of the yard came Scott's voice, followed by the man himself. "You appear to be well on the road to recovery, brother. No dirt on your backside this time?"

Laughing, Johnny asked, "Have you been watching me again?" He had fallen down the day before when he had made a misstep and his legs had given way, giving himself a bit of a scare. Scott had come running to his rescue, but the debility in Johnny's legs had passed and he was able to walk back to the hacienda unaided. Scott had, of course, hovered.

Earlier, when Johnny found an opportunity to go off on his own, he had found a quiet place and practiced drawing his gun using his shoulder holster. He wasn't far from the house so he had to practice with dry firing. It had a different feel from drawing from a holster on his hip and had taken some getting use to. He knew that beating Hal Granger to the draw had been a bit of luck. Scooping his hand under his jacket to grab the grip, withdrawing the gun and aiming it in the right direction - and fast - was quite a challenge. Johnny was looking forward to being able to wear his old holster again, hopefully by the time he left Lancer in a couple of weeks.

Scott placed two tumblers of scotch on the small table near Johnny and pulled up another chair. "No, I wasn't watching you. I trust you know your limits. And abide by them." The nickering of horses came from the direction of the pasture. "It sounds like your new horse is getting along with the others."

"Corona's got a lot of spirit and he's still young. He'll learn soon enough. Cipriano was trying to teach him some manners this afternoon."

"When are you leaving?"

Johnny picked up a glass and sampled the scotch. He avoided replying to Scott's question and instead asked, "Do you like the Glenlivit I brought?"

"Mmm. It has a good smoky taste. As soon as I poured some out for the two of us, Murdoch took his book and disappeared upstairs with the rest of the bottle." Scott chuckled fondly. Apart from the light emanating through the great room's glass doors behind them, and a single lamp burning over on the bunkhouse porch, the night was dark and quiet.

Johnny pulled a small tool from his pants pocket and nipped the top off a cigar but didn't light it. "My doctor back in Frisco told me to cut back on smoking, but I think he meant the cigarettes," he said jokingly. He opened and closed the cutter a few times then put it back in his pocket. Removing the paper ring from the stem of the cigar, Johnny slipped it onto his ring finger on his left hand, where it covered his wedding band. After a minute of absent-minded fiddling, he removed the paper ring, crumpled it up and tossed it on the table.

Scott could tell that his brother had something serious on his mind, and although he was curious to know what it was, he waited to see if Johnny was going to speak up. He'd watched Johnny throw himself into his rehabilitation with as much intensity and focus as if he was preparing for a gunfight. Once he'd been given a reprieve, Johnny had come back to life, but he still had his introspective moments. Finally, when it became apparent that his younger brother wasn't going to open up, Scott prompted him. "Don't you feel that you've come a long way in just the past few days?"

Johnny looked up as if surprised. "Oh yeah."

"Are you overdoing it?" Scott had watched Johnny's appetite return along with his strength and yet he wondered if he was pushing the pace of his rehabilitation a bit too hard.

"I'm just a little tired." The recuperation had taken a lot out of him physically, and at the back of his mind Johnny kept wondering when the miracle he'd been offered was going to be revoked.

"Well, you've certainly impressed me. Sam seems to think you'll be able to travel in a couple of weeks. You'll be glad to get back to normal, I expect."

"There is only so much fresh air a man can take. Don't get me wrong. I love Lancer. The ranch, for me it's tierra adorada. There's no grass greener, no sky bluer, no air sweeter. But on the other hand, I really like cities. So much to do and see." Johnny's face lit up with a wicked smile. "A sporting house on every corner. What about you?"

Scott looked sideways at his brother. "You mean do I like cities or do I like sporting houses?"

"I mean I saw the way that widow lady was looking at you in Baldomero's place when we were buying my new clothes. She had her eye on you," he teased. "A lady like that is better than anything a sporting house can offer."

Although he knew that Johnny was trying to be light, Scott felt uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going. He shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. "I'm not ready yet," he said firmly.

Suddenly, Johnny's tone changed. "Hey, look Scott, I'm sorry. I don't mean to push you." After everything that Scott had told him about his late wife, Johnny wondered if his brother would ever trust himself enough to even try to become close to a woman again. "I understand," Johnny offered. "I sure do."

With a slight shrug, Scott indicated he didn't have hard feelings. "You didn't answer me when I asked when you'd be going back to San Francisco." Scott swiveled in his chair to look directly at his brother. He was sure that Johnny had purposely avoided responding about when he was leaving. Maybe, he hoped, he wanted to stay.

Johnny stalled, picking up his drink and taking a slow sip. He crossed his legs and balanced the glass on his knee. He thought how lucky he was to have any movement in his legs and didn't quite believe this reprieve was going to be permanent. There was a feeling hanging over him, a stupid superstition that his ability to walk was contingent upon him being at Lancer. Johnny shook off the dark mood and responded, "I guess I have to go sometime."

"You don't sound too enthusiastic." Scott wondered why Johnny seemed so reluctant to go back to his home. Also, in all the time that he had been visiting Lancer, Johnny had never volunteered any information about his wife. If her name had come up he would say a few words, but then he'd move on, almost as if she wasn't part of his life. A terrible suspicion grew so Scott cautiously asked, "Was Natalie's health seriously affected by the influenza?"

Johnny shrugged a little. "She was slow to recover. When I had it, it sure sapped my strength."

"She only wrote one letter to you?"

"How'd you. . . oh, Maria told you I got that letter from Natalie," Johnny said.

"I found your mail in your bedside table, remember? Are you telling me the truth? Is she well?"

"Who?" was Johnny's absent-minded reply.

"I'm asking about Natalie, your wife." Scott took a chance and pressed home a point that had never been fully explained. "The woman we never see here. The woman who doesn't seem to care enough about her husband to visit him when he was seriously ill. The woman who shot you!" His voice had risen in anger, which he hadn't intended. He didn't want Johnny to think he was angry with him. It was directed at Natalie, whose blatant absence was disturbing.

Johnny took a deep breath and decided to put his trust in his brother. Not that he didn't trust him, but there were some things that a man didn't want to talk about - with anyone, not even those nearest and dearest. "All right," Johnny said in defeat. "I haven't talked to her in some time." God, this was hard. Just say it, Johnny. Spit it out. "My wife and I. . . we haven't been. . . getting along. We're not like man and wife any more. We've reached an impasse, I'm afraid. Whenever I go back, it's just window dressing."

The revelation was not so unexpected, but still, it hit Scott hard. "I'm so sorry, Johnny." He leaned forward and reached out to touch his brother's knee.

Johnny didn't respond. He didn't want any sympathy. After a minute, he turned his eyes towards Scott and explained, "I've been kept away by work a lot in the past couple of years, but last time I went home, well, that's when my little wife took a potshot at me. We had a humdinger of a fight. I was doing my best to get her to see some sense, but she screamed at me to get out." He looked off into the dark, where the stars were visible in the sky above the black shape of the barn. "I didn't take her seriously when she pulled a little pea-shooter out and pointed it at me." He said with a half-hearted laugh, "I sure took her seriously after she shot me. I patched myself up and spent a couple of days in some hotel. I never went back. I then just lit out. . .took the train up to Carson City. I had business up there anyhow. I'd been drinking so much I was half way there before I realized how bad I was hurting." He arched his back and took in a deep breath.

"How long has this been going on for?" Scott asked. Johnny must have a very volatile relationship with his wife for her to have pulled a gun on him.

"Long enough. We fight a lot, over small things that don't even matter, it seems." Johnny took another sip of his scotch. "I did my damndest to do right by her, but she was never satisfied. Now I spend a lot of my time keepin' out of her way." He looked down at the unlit cigar in his hand. "She has no trouble finding things to keep her busy, but somehow never could find time for me."

"So you came here from Carson City," Scott said. "I thought it was strange when you said you bought your new horse over in Merced. It's not exactly on the line from San Francisco."

"I didn't mean to lie, but everyone assumed I'd come straight from Frisco." Johnny looked up and caught Scott trying to hide a smile, so he asked, "What?"

At first Scott wouldn't reveal the cause of his humor, but eventually he said, "It's not funny, really, but I guess I'm somewhat relieved to find out that you haven't been leading a secret life, I was sure you were hiring out your gun again or selling rifles to the Mexicans or something."

Johnny was taken aback. "What made you think that?"

With a shrug, Scott explained, "You were hiding something, that's for certain, and you rode in here peppered with bullet wounds. . . just things that didn't add up."

"I don't do that any more," Johnny replied, a little affronted. "I've been sinking everything into my work, but occasionally I hit a bit of trouble. On the whole it's all been pretty civilized." Johnny ran a hand over his jaw. "Look, I'm opening this new office down in New Orleans, so I might as well head out that way as soon as I've got my balance back. I, uh, I don't want to go back to Frisco just yet. Leeds and my staff can handle the Frisco office."

"You'll be able to work this out with Natalie, Johnny." Scott was concerned by what appeared to be his brother's avoidance of the issue. "You can't spend your life going from town to town without at least trying to reconcile with her."

"She doesn't want to hear it. She's been real clear on that point," Johnny said bitterly.

"If you go to New Orleans without first going home, you're making a big mistake. You owe it to her, and to yourself, to make things right between you." Scott expected his brother to become prickly and berate him for interfering, but he felt too strongly about this to be cautious. "Or at least to try."

"I have tried!"

"Then try once more," Scott said adamantly.

Johnny ran his fingers through his hair and eventually agreed grudgingly, "You're right. I guess I've been putting off the inevitable. When I'm able, I'll go back to have a heart-to-heart with Natalie." Johnny fumbled for a match, struck it on his boot and lit his cigar. After a couple of puffs he said, with optimism that did not really match his feelings, "You only live once so I might as well jump in with both feet."

Scott gave his little brother some sound advice. "I think, Johnny, that this time you should make sure she isn't armed before you enter the room."

Johnny telegraphed his business manager, Levi Leeds, to inform him that he had suffered a setback and to invite him to come to a meeting at the Lancer Ranch. By the time Leeds arrived, a few days later, Johnny was able to walk as if he had never been through a traumatic operation and lost the use of his legs. Johnny certainly hadn't completely recovered, and his horseback riding was somewhat limited, but every day brought improvement to his physical condition.

Although he still had moments of despondency, Johnny pushed them aside; he was looking forward to getting back to normal. He sent a telegram to Natalie, telling her that they must sit down to talk things out, and when he thought he would arrive home. And by having Leeds come out to talk business, he was taking the first step towards solving some of his unfinished affairs. Business concerns were far easier to solve than matters of the heart, Johnny thought.

Scott had gone to pick up Leeds, so Johnny had plenty of time to get ready. He decided to don his city clothes once again, but found that due to his illness he had lost considerable weight. He tightened the small belt at the back of his waistcoat until it fit snugly, then used the mirror to arrange the folds of his cravat. His recent ordeal had created more creases on his face and he was still paler than normal, but all in all, Johnny felt he'd emerged from the terrible experience in far better condition than anyone had foreseen.

He pulled his shoulder holster out of the drawer where Scott had stowed it to ensure that Johnny didn't 'try anything stupid again.' It seemed a very long time ago. Johnny buckled the holster around his chest then donned his suit jacket. There was something about wearing a gun, no matter whether it was strapped around his hips or across his ribs that gave him a feeling of security that nothing else could achieve.

After a quick brush of his dark hair and the application of a small amount of wax to the ends of his bushy mustache, Johnny went downstairs to await the arrival of his guest.

Scott drove the buckboard to the stage depot to meet Levi Leeds, and by the time they returned the two men were on very good terms. Leeds, a round-faced young man with a glint of humor in his eye and a bowler hat covering his receding hairline, greeted Johnny with a hearty handshake.

The three men sauntered into the great room, talking about business, with Leeds addressing questions to both Scott and Johnny about the day-to-day operation of the large Lancer spread. Later, after taking a look at some of the breeding horses in the pasture beyond the barn, they had supper with Murdoch, then played cards.

Levi had traveled extensively along the East coast, and although he had limited schooling, he was well read and had broad interests, so they found plenty of subjects to converse about. Murdoch wasn't listening, however. He was simply enjoying the scene. Scott had put on the few pounds that Johnny had lost, he observed, and both of the boys seemed to be healthy and in good spirits. For the first time in a long while both Murdoch and his two grown sons were all at ease and happy together.

Early the next morning, while Murdoch set off in the opposite direction, the brothers took the visitor out on horseback to show him a bit of the spread. Johnny, back in his work clothes, rode Barranca and set an easy pace. Like Scott, he enjoyed showing off the ranch to Leeds. They only stayed out for a few hours but by the time they arrived back at the hacienda, both Johnny and Leeds were sore and glad to dismount.

They had just stepped onto the verandah and were talking about finding some lunch when Murdoch rode into the yard, seemingly full of energy. "You boys coming out to help round up some heifers this afternoon?"

Johnny removed his hat and combed his hair back with his fingers. "Guess you'll have to do without us. Mr. Leeds and I need to palaver. All right if we use your desk, Murdoch?"

"Sure, son. See you later then. Scott, you'll join me." Without waiting for a reply, Murdoch wheeled his horse around and took off for the range, accompanied by several of the ranch hands.

Johnny met Scott's eyes. It was plain to see that Scott did not like being ordered around, but the tall blond man said nothing about it. "It looks," Johnny pointed out, "like the coming of Spring has banished the old man's lumbago."

Scott excused himself to their guest, saying lightly, "It's been a pleasure, Levi, but I must go and, as Shakespeare said, get my living by the copulation of cattle."

When Murdoch, Scott and the cowboys returned, some time after the sun had set, it was to find Johnny and Leeds in the kitchen. They had been sampling a bottle of tequila; lemon rinds were scattered across the table and there was evidence they'd been eating tamales and beans. When Murdoch stopped on the threshold to interrupt them, asking if they wanted to dine with him and Scott, Johnny stretched and held his hands to his stomach. "Naw, I think we've eaten plenty. We thought you got lost in the dark." He clapped Leeds on his back and suggested they go outside to smoke their cigars.

While Maria laid out some supper in the dining room, Scott stood on the verandah with crossed arms, watching Johnny and Levi ambling over towards the corral. When they walked beyond the beams of light emanating from the house, their location could be pinpointed by the sound of their laughter and the glowing ends of their cigars.

Murdoch came to the doorway then stepped out to place a hand on his son's shoulder. "He'll be fine, Scott. He's interested in his business venture. He has a fine life and, it appears, a relatively safe one these days."

Scott snorted. "Safe as compared to what? If there's a dangerous situation, Johnny's sure to find it. You didn't see him strolling out into the open just so Granger would reveal himself." Realizing that Murdoch probably didn't know just how close Johnny had come to being killed when facing Hal Granger, Scott cringed inwardly.

"I'm afraid I do know how close to the edge Johnny walks," Murdoch replied with resignation. He took in a deep breath of the night air. "It's the nature of the boy…of the man. But I'm glad you're safe. Both of you. You know, I think I'll take my meal upstairs. This would be the perfect time for me to retire to my room with a book and the rest of that fine malt whiskey."

"Good night, Father."

"Good night, Son."

Levi Leeds left the following afternoon, promising to return to Lancer at some point when he had more time to enjoy it. While one of the ranch hands patiently waited at the reins, Levi leaned down from the height of the buckboard seat to shake Johnny's hand once more. "I'll see you in a few days, John. Good to meet you, Scott." They said their good-byes and Levi waved as the wagon headed down the long drive.

As they slowly made their way back into the hacienda, Johnny said, "I was going into Green River but it's getting late. Guess I'll go tomorrow."

"Something special going on?"

"No, just have some errands to run."

"I'll go with you," Scott said. He didn't leave any room for Johnny to refuse his company.

Johnny narrowed his eyes at his brother. "You mean you're coming along to keep me out of trouble?"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "That would be a waste of my time, don't you think? No matter how much I try, trouble always finds you."

Johnny laughed and clapped Scott on the back. "Maybe it's time you stopped trying. Besides, what kind of trouble can there possibly be in that little town on a Monday morning?"

***–***TBC