Chapter Thirteen

Val sat still, waiting for the next question, 'Which one?'. It didn't come. Then he realized that it wouldn't matter to this man. He just found out that at least one of his boys was injured, and he couldn't think past that right now .

Murdoch stood in shock for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Since the moment Thomas had told him he was needed here in Green River by the sheriff, he had been expecting that there was something amiss with his sons.

At first, he had been so hoping that when he had arrived at the sheriff's office, he would have found Scott and Johnny cooling their heels in one of Val's jail cells. Now, he knew different. Now, hearing the news that one, or both, of them was in need of Sam's help, he found he couldn't move or speak for several agonizing seconds.

Val winced at the almost stunned look on the big rancher's face. He was just about to say something when, without even attempting to speak, Murdoch turned and left the office.

Val sighed and shook his head. He couldn't avoid being glad that he wasn't in Murdoch Lancer's shoes right now. The rumpled sheriff got to his feet, rounded the desk. and headed out, grabbing his hat with one hand, as he pulled the door closed with the other.

When he looked down the street, Murdoch was already near the end of it, just about to turn the corner that would lead him to Sam Jenkins's office. Val marveled that a man of Murdoch's size could move so quickly. Then again, he was moving with the speed of a frightened father.

Murdoch approached Sam's door, hesitating only a few seconds to gather his composure, before opening it with the same commanding presence he had opened Val's door.

"Sam!" he called out, more loudly than was really necessary.

The doctor walked out of the back room and faced his old friend. When he saw Murdoch open his mouth, he held both hands up. "No one's dead." It may have sounded like a lame thing to say, but he had to get the best of the news delivered before anything else to ease the worst of the rancher's fears.

"Tell me it isn't both of them."

"It isn't."

Murdoch almost sagged in relief. That relief didn't last very long, as he looked into the eyes of the doctor he had known for years. The intensity of the look asked the question long before Murdoch could voice it.

"They're in the back room on the left," Sam said, as he turned and led the way.

The distance to the room he and Johnny had carried Scott to earlier was short, but the trip to get there seemed like it was taking an hour.

Murdoch had to keep reminding himself that neither of his boys was dead and that only one was hurt. That thought was both a help and a source of pain to the eldest Lancer.

Sam stopped in front of one of the three doors that led off this hallway. He turned to look at Murdoch, not sure if he should say anything or not. He wasn't usually so reticent to speak, having dealt with countless worried family members over the long years of his career. Quickly deciding that the scene he was about to reveal would say it all, he simply opened the door and stood aside.

The sight that greeted Murdoch made his heart skip a beat. Scott lay in the narrow bed, covered to his waist with a light blanket. A white bandage was secured along the left side of his neck and shoulder. Johnny was sitting in a cushioned chair on the far side of the bed. Murdoch suddenly realized with a bit of surprise that it was Johnny he had been expecting to find in that bed.

Murdoch's eyes briefly met those of his youngest son. There was no accusation in his own eyes, but Johnny's were filled with near panic and unmistakable guilt.

Murdoch took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He understood the fear. Johnny was scared, not of him or what he might say, but for his brother. Fear wasn't a look his father was used to seeing in the deep blue eyes. The guilt he would deal with later. But to have Johnny openly displaying so much alarm made Murdoch's heart squeeze tightly in his chest.

'Scott must be bad off,' he thought to himself. Nothing he had seen about his eldest son so far dissuaded him from that notion.

As he approached the bed, Murdoch stared down at Scott's pale face. He wanted to sit down but didn't want to risk disturbing Scott. His emotions overcame that feeling of caution, and he carefully sat on the edge of the bed.

Reaching out, he slid his hand under Scott's damp hair and placed his palm on his son's forehead. "He's hot," he declared, sure it wasn't news to anyone.

Sam, who had left the room unnoticed, returned in time to hear the remark. "The fever set in about an hour ago. I just now went to get some more cool water." He nodded down at the bowl of water and dry cloth in his hands.

Murdoch then saw the bowl of water and a wet cloth that were sitting on the bedside table. That's why Scott's hair was damp and his skin glistened slightly, he surmised.

Sam handed the bowl with the fresh water and a dry cloth to Johnny. Once the young man had a good grip on the replacements, Sam reached around Johnny and picked up the bowl of warm water and used cloth. "I'll just take these away." It was a good excuse to give the Lancer's some time alone.

Just as Sam reached the door, Murdoch asked, "How bad is it, Sam?" His eyes never left his son's face.

Johnny closed his own eyes. He had heard it before and wasn't anxious to hear again that his brother might be dying, nor did he care to witness his father's reaction to that news. He had to tighten his grip on the bowl Sam had given him to keep his hands from shaking.

"It isn't good, Murdoch. An artery was nicked in his neck. He's lost a lot of blood. He had hit his head in a fall and has a concussion, as well. Now of course, the fever.

"I repaired the damage to his neck. Johnny has been trying to keep him as cool as possible. The blood loss..." His voice trailed off.

Murdoch knew what Sam was trying to say and nodded his understanding. Forcing himself to say the words, the big rancher supplied the implication of the missing words, "He could die."

"Yes. But, you know I'll do all I can to prevent that from happening. Scott is young, strong and stubborn."

"I know, Sam," Murdoch said with a hint of pride. "I'm grateful that you were in town when this happened."

Murdoch resisted the urge to look at Johnny. He wasn't quite ready to hear what his youngest son would say had taken place that now had his eldest boy in such a life-threatening situation.

"Thank you, Sam."

The doctor nodded, acknowledging his friend's gratitude. He then turned and left the room.

When the door closed, Johnny dipped the new cloth into the bowl, wrung out the excess water and resumed his attempt to cool his brother down.

By the time that Sam came out of the room and headed toward the kitchen, he heard the front door open. With a sigh, he set the bowl and wet cloth down and made his way to the front room.

Val was standing with his hat in his hand. He looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Murdoch stopped at my office, and I told him where to come. I don't hear any yellin', so, did Johnny tell him what happened?"

"Not yet. So far, they haven't said a word to each other, but I don't expect that to remain the case for very long."

"Did Murdoch look angry?"

"No, Val. He looked like the worried father he is. I'm just hoping that he and Johnny don't butt heads over this. Scott doesn't need that. He needs his father and his brother to work together."

"Easier said than done," Val mumbled, as he looked past Sam toward the back hall. "Any change in Scott's condition?"

"Yes," Sam said and then had to wipe the hopeful look off of Val's face. "He's now developed a fever."

"Damn!" Val cursed. "Three dead bodies is enough." He had the good grace to look sheepish at that remark, since it sounded like he cared more abut the added work Scott's death would cause him rather than the prospect of losing a friend. "Sorry," he apologized. "Didn't mean to make it sound like Scott don't mean more than those three yahoos that got themselves killed."

"I know what you meant, Val," Sam said softly.

"Well, if you think you can manage the Lancers, I'll head on back to my office. Just send someone, if you need me."

"All right, Val. But, I think I can handle the Lancers. I've been doing it a while now."

Sam thought he heard Val nutter, "Better you than me," before the permanently-disheveled sheriff walked out of the doctor's office.

x x x x x

After a good ten minutes of silence, Johnny couldn't take it any longer. "Go ahead, Old Man. Say it." He cringed at the term Old Man. He thought he had left that bit of disrespect for his father behind. He didn't apologize.

"Say what?" Murdoch asked, knowing full well what his son was referring to.

"Say what I'm sure you're itching to say to me. How this was all my fault."

"I have no idea what happened." Murdoch raised his eyes from Scott for the first time since he'd sat down. "Suppose you tell me." Those last words were spoken with a touch of anger, which he didn't, as yet, really feel.

He clenched his fists in an effort to retain control of his emotions. He was not only willing but actually wanted to hear everything before jumping to any conclusions. He had done too much of that in the past, especially with his youngest son. However, the fact that Johnny thought he would be blamed told him a lot.

Johnny had continued wiping the cooled cloth over Scott's face, chest and arms, being careful, as Sam had told him, not to get the bandage wet.

Now, he stopped what he was doing and looked across the bed to his father. "All right, Murdoch. I'll tell you what happened."

Relating the story in almost the exact words he had used to tell Val when the sheriff had questioned him here at Sam's office.

This time, however, he added, "You can ask Matt at the General Store. He saw the whole thing. Don't know as he heard the beginning of it. Don't imagine it attracted much attention 'til the shootin' started."

"Madrid again," was the only comment Murdoch made, and it was spoken with bitterness.

"Yeah. Madrid again," Johnny returned with an equal amount of bitterness.. "He never seems to go away, does he? Not so as would make you happy. I didn't invite any of them, but it was me they came after, so let me have it. Tell me how I've put my brother's life in danger because of my past."

Murdoch ground his teeth, as he listened to his youngest son describe how Madrid had been the cause of yet another incident, this time putting his brother's life at risk.

TBC