Chapter Eight

Scott didn't lose consciousness when he fell into Johnny's arms. He had known when he started out that he should probably stay where he was, under the wagon, but he had heard the entire conversation between Johnny and Pony and was determined that this black-clad gunman wasn't going to goad his brother into a shootout.

Johnny wrapped his arms around Scott and half led, half dragged him over to the boardwalk. He eased Scott down until his back was leaning against the walkway support boards.

"Please don't do it, Johnny," Scott said, somewhat breathlessly. "You've fought too hard to put all that behind you."

A sad look crossed Johnny's face. "I know, Scott, but I can't walk away when I've been called out."

"Why not?" the blond asked. "If there's some sort of code of honor involved," he said the words with a hint of contempt, "no one who calls you out will just shoot you down, so you can just refuse to face them. No one would believe that Johnny Madrid is afraid, so you wouldn't lose face."

Scott fought the urge to close his eyes. The bright sunlight made his head hurt even more. However, it didn't seem to be clearing out the fog that his mind was shrouded in. It took hard concentration to keep the thoughts straight and then get them out of his mouth so they made sense.

"A man has to be able to look himself in the mirror and be proud of who looks back at him."

"You'd risk your life for pride?" There was disbelief in Scott's voice, despite the fact he knew what Johnny was talking about. He had felt that way about himself when he had been a soldier. Pride was a powerful thing. So was self-respect.

"You don't understand, Scott. You never will, 'cause you never lived in the world I grew up in."

He wasn't able to equate his experiences as a gunfighter with Scott's experiences as a soldier. But, the two brothers were closer in that regard than they realized.

All the while Johnny was talking, he was looking into his brother's eyes and not liking what he saw there. The normally clear, slate-blue eyes were half closed and far from clear. It was evident that Scott was fast approaching a semi-conscious state, if not a a completely unconscious one. It was only his willpower and concern for his brother that kept him lucid, but even that strength wouldn't last much longer.

Johnny frowned and turned to look back at Pony. "My brother's hurt. He needs help."

"Brother?" Pony said incredulously. "He's your brother?" The man shook his head. "I knew you had a family, but I never expected a gringo brother."

"Look, Pony. If you want a fight, I'll give you one, face-to-face, man-to-man, but I have to make sure Scott's all right first."

Pony waved his gun back and forth, as he mulled over his options. Did he really trust Madrid to keep his word? Johnny had always been a man you could count on, but now he had a family to back him up. Maybe, after his brother was seen to, he'd just call on the rest of that family to deal with him. Those kind of odds Pony didn't like at all.

The gun he held suddenly stopped wavering and was being held rock steady, a sure sign he had come to a decision. Pony's expression was stony. "Sorry, Johnny boy. I don't think I can do that. I got you right where I want you, after all these years, so why should I give that up?"

"I told you I'd face you. That's what you want. Scott isn't part of it. Let me get him help." When Pony's gun didn't move, and the look on his face didn't change, Johnny said, "I've never gone back on my word before. You know that."

"Yeah, but you've never had a family before, either. Fact is, I no longer trust you. You got too much to lose now, starin' with him." At those final words, the gun swung toward Scott and remained still.

There was no anger in Pony's voice. He was just stating his concerns. "I may never get this chance again."

Johnny stood up and faced Pony, his eyes flashing with an icy intensity. "All right, Pony. Let's do it here and now."

"Not here," the man in black replied. "I want it done in the middle of the main street where everyone can see you die."

Johnny glanced down at Scott, whose head was drooping forward a little more with each passing moment. Without a word, Johnny turned and knelt back down in front of his brother. He knew from having had concussions himself and seeing it in others as well as what Sam had told him, someone with a head injury like that needed to stay awake.

Reaching out, Johnny took Scott's head in both hands and lifted it up. "Hey, Boston. You still with me?"

A low moan was his only answer. Scott's eyes were now completely closed.

"Aw, come on, brother, you need to wake up. Sam won't be happy if he sees you like this." 'I'm not happy, either,' he thought with mounting concern.

Holding Scott's head up with one hand, he tapped the blond's cheek, a bit harder with each stroke.

The cold voice of Pony Deal broke the silence. "I'm waitin', Johnny."

"I'm not leavin' my brother, Pony, so you can just wait."

He looked around the town. He was sure there were people behind the windows, watching, waiting. He even spotted a few curtains being pulled aside to allow some folks a better view of the events unfolding in the middle of their town. The streets, however, were empty. "No audience for your grand gunfight anyway." The tone was pure sarcasm, and he realized that it was aimed at both Pony and the frightened townsfolk that thought more of keeping their own hides safe than helping neighbors in trouble.

Murdoch will not be pleased when he learns that no one helped his sons when they needed it. Johnny almost cringed at the thought of the Old Man bellowing at the mayor and others, who considered themselves important - until trouble came, apparently.

Then, Johnny suddenly remembered the young man who worked in the General Store. "Matt!" he yelled out toward the front of the building. "Go get Doc Jenkins!"

Unknown to the men in front of the store, Matt had been near the window, holding a rifle. He was scared, but he would have used the gun, if he felt the need. At least, that was what he had convinced himself was the reason he hadn't done anything before now.

He had seen the man in black holding a gun on Scott and Johnny, but had been hesitant about just shooting him down. He almost felt guilty about that. The young man wasn't a coward, but pulling the trigger on a man wasn't an easy thing to do.

Matt was torn between being there to back Scott and Johnny up, and doing as Johnny asked. He had seen that Scott needed the doc.

When he heard his name called out again, Matt leaned the rifle against the counter. Scott must be hurt bad for Johnny to sound so desperate. "All right, Johnny," he yelled back and headed for the rear of the store.

"No!" Pony shouted. "No one gets the doctor or anyone else. Someone does and Johnny's brother won't be needing a doctor."

Matt froze. He was pretty sure Johnny was safe, since the man with the gun wanted to face him in a gunfight, but Matt wasn't sure the man wouldn't shoot Scott. "Johnny?" he called out, a clear question as to what he should do.

"Your choice, Madrid," Pony told him coldly.

Johnny knew that Matt could get out the back door of the store unseen, but if Pony called out to the young man, to make sure he was still there, and no answer came back...Johnny shook his head. He wouldn't take that chance with anyone's life but his own, especially not Scott's.

"No, Matt. Stay where you are," was Johnny's dejected answer.

Maybe he couldn't get medical help, but Matt picked up the rifle again, ready to give another kind of help, if the situation allowed it.

When Johnny looked down the street toward the sheriff's office, Pony laughed. "Deputy won't be comin' to help, either. He's all tied up, sitting in one of his own jail cells."

At the puzzled frown the younger Lancer gave him, Pony laughed again. "When I asked about the law in this town, I was tryin' to throw you off. I found him in his office an' so he wouldn't get in the way, I took care of him before I ever came down here to see you. I Knew you'd take care of those idiots out to getcha." He paused. "Never thought they'd be so stupid as to draw on all of us. I already knew the sheriff was out of town, so I just had to make sure the deputy was outta the way, too."

Johnny was somewhat disappointed at that bit of news. He didn't think he had misjudged Ron Billings that much. Besides, knowing Val like he did, Johnny was sure his friend wouldn't have had him as a deputy if he wasn't up to Val's expectations.

So here they were. No law, no doctor for Scott, no help from the good people of Green River. It looked like he was alone with an injured brother, facing a man determined to kill him and no help coming.

"I'll make you a deal, Deal," he said, too angry even to think about the humor in what he'd said. "You let Matt come out here to stay with Scott, and I'll face you in the middle of the street."

Pony again pondered his options. "Trouble with that is, your brother makes a good hostage, even in his condition. We leave him behind and you might change your mind."

Johnny, who still held Scott's head upright in one hand, gently let go, easing the blond's head forward. "What do you intend on doing, dragging him out in the street with us? You gonna point one gun at him and draw another one on me?" The dark-harried Lancer's anger was rising, evidenced by the animosity in his words.

"Well," Pony said, "how about you just dunk him in this trough here and get him on his feet." To re-enforce his words, Pony pointed his gun directly at Scott's head.

"You shoot him, and you're dead before the smoke clealrs." The unmistakable promise was ground out between Johnny's clenched teeth.

"Yeah, I imagine I will. But, then you'll have to live knowing you were responsible for your brother's death. Can you live with that?"

Johnny knew he couldn't. Even if he knew he would also die, he didn't want Scott to pay for his choices. And, the thought that Murdoch would lose both of his sons at one time made his blood go cold.

Pony didn't have to ask what Johnny was going to do. He could see it in the younger man's eyes. No way was the
gunhawk-turned-rancher going to risk his brother's life.

Pony laughed. "Getting soft, Madrid. You never used to worry about anybody else. That's why I'm going to take you today."

"No, you're not."

For the second time in less than five minutes, both men turned toward the sound of Scott's voice. No one had noticed that he had managed to hold on to his gun, even after he fell. It was now pointing straight at Pony Deal's heart.

The shock on the man's face was almost comical. But, Scott didn't let that get in the way of his determination to keep Johnny from risking his life in a gunfight. Scott's eyes were still somewhat cloudy, but the line of his mouth spoke of his intent.

Johnny's voice cut through the silence that had descended on the group of three. "Don't do it, Scott."

In answer, Scott cocked his Colt. The noise was loud in the stillness.

Pony couldn't be sure Johnny's brother wouldn't shoot him down, but he was pretty sure about Johnny himself. He had the feeling that his former riding partner would do whatever he had to do to protect his new-found brother.

There was no question in Johnny's mind that in other circumstances, Scott would be able to handle himself, and he didn't underestimate that fact. However, Scott was suffering from a head injury, and that could mean the difference between success and death.

Pony was looking at the blond's face, so only Johnny saw the slight waver of Scott's gun. His brother's strength was on the verge of giving out, and that could change everything.

TBC