NOTE: This is the final chapter - I hope you've enjoyed reading my Lancer story!

The Trigger - Chapter 12

Trigger ~ To be the cause of: bring, bring about, bring on, cause, effect, effectuate, generate, induce, ingenerate, lead to, make, occasion, result in, secure, set off, stir (up), touch off.

There was a pungent aroma in Johnny's nostrils; his eyes flew open and he jerked back in his chair. "What the hell?" Johnny pushed the Doc's hand away from his face, angry. He glared up at Sam and saw the old doctor frowning at him with concern. "What?" Johnny asked in a bad temper.

"I'm not used to seeing you faint over a few stitches, Johnny."

"I didn't faint!"

"You did look pretty green," Scott observed. He tried not to smile.

"I didn't faint," Johnny protested.

Sam started to pack his medical supplies into his black bag. "Of course not. My mistake, Johnny. You know. . ." The doctor stopped his packing and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder if I should start carrying a much larger bag. It seems to me that with all of the business I get out here on the ranch I really need to be better equipped."

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Breakfast brought the good news that Pedro had been located.

One of the men sent to locate the missing ranch hand returned at dawn to inform Murdoch that Pedro was up at the Black Mesa line camp, in pretty fair shape considering Walt had left him for dead. Pedro was banged up but was able to tell Brewer, who had discovered him lying in a shallow ravine, that Walt had run off his horse and then stampeded the herd of cattle in his direction. Pedro was puzzled and angry that the young man who had worked by his side for some years had turned on him. Nobody had an answer as to what had made Walt betray their friendship.

Later that morning, once the Secret Service agents and their wagonload of dead assassins were gone, everyone sighed with relief. Fox, his face discolored from Scott's punch, ignored both of the Lancer boys who stood nearby with arms folded over their chests, but he halted in front of Murdoch to deliver some parting words. "Those sons of yours are nothing but trouble, Lancer, and you'd do well to remember that this is not over yet. Not by a long shot."

Johnny leaned towards Scott and said in a loud voice, "His red nose matches that cravat he's wearin'."

Fox raised his hand to stab a finger at Murdoch's chest but the angry gleam in the big rancher's eye gave a warning that even Fox could understand. The agent retracted his hand and spat, "I plan to bring charges-"

President Grant's voice boomed from the doorway as he said, "You will do no such thing, Agent Fox. It has come to my attention that you had knowledge of this Bradley Trader and his men being in this area, and also knew that both he and his uncle were known spies for the Confederacy and compatriots of Ward and Booth. Yet you never informed any of us about the danger we were in." He leaned forward and added in a quieter tone, "These people are under my protection, such as it is, and you'll do well to apologize to our host and be on your way before I have charges leveled upon you. If you ever do anything to harm these folks I'll have your head. Literally." Then Grant clapped a hand on Murdoch's back and smiled broadly. "I think you need to come back inside, my friend, and continue our game of poker. We can't have it said that an old soldier like me lost a game of strategy to a cattle rancher, can we?"

Once Fox was riding down the drive and finally leaving the Lancer ranch, Murdoch turned to Grant and asked, "How did you know that Fox was aware of Trader and his unit being close by?" As far as Murdoch knew nobody had been in contact with the President since his arrival at Lancer.

Johnny and Scott watched Grant closely but apart from a smug look, the big man gave no response. Scott slowly smiled and said, "I think that my father had better be very careful when he wagers with you at the poker table, Sir."

"You're bluffing," Johnny accused the President.

Grant's smile broadened and he placed a fatherly hand on Johnny's shoulder as they entered the house. "Agent Fox has always been secretive, as befits his profession, but this time his actions were over-zealous and nearly caused mortal harm to both my son and to you gentlemen. I hope that Mr. Fox had the best of intentions." He paused to light a cigar. After a couple of puffs, Grant settled at the table set out for gambling and said to no one in particular, "I believe it would be best if Agent Fox retires from the service. I never should have appointed a Democrat. Let us have peace, as is our slogan. Yes, indeed." He tossed some chips into the center of the table. "Ante up," he ordered.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Grant and his son stayed on for two more days. Although both of them remained close to the hacienda, they seemed to enjoy their time in the company of the Lancers.

After some hesitation, Ulysses let Johnny teach him a little about using a six-gun, and Scott insisted his hands were not so bad that he couldn't indulge the young man in a shooting contest with their Remington rifles. By the time the President and Ulysses left the Lancer ranch, the two families had made lifelong friends with each other and the Lancers had accepted an invitation to the White House in Washington in the near future.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

"Prisoner's in there," Val said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the only occupied cell in his jail. "Damned if I've ever heard a woman swear like that, and I've heard a lot in my time."

Johnny could not find it in himself to respond with a smile. He hesitated, unsure if he was doing the right thing by seeing Esther Weatherby for one last time.

Val said in a low voice, "They're comin' for her shortly, so if you're gonna talk to the woman you'd better do it now-"

Johnny nodded and opened the heavy door that led back to the holding cells. Esther was located in the nearest cell. Whatever Johnny had expected to see - a broken, weeping, distraught woman, most likely - he was wrong in his expectation. The old woman, looking small and decidedly out of place, sat primly on the edge of the jailhouse cot, working on some embroidery.

She didn't look up when Johnny stepped up to the bars, but she said, "Bradley will be along soon, with my Gus, to take me home. I'm just waitin' on them."

Unsure if she even had a grip on reality, Johnny replied, "They're not coming for you, Ma'am. They're both dead."

Esther's head snapped up. Her eyes narrowed in anger. "They can't be dead. I don't believe you!" the woman spat. "My Gus is far too clever. He cooked up the scheme with Bradley. Bradley's old unit were itching for a fight and joined us right off when they heard what was cooking." She continued making neat stitches in the cloth as she spoke. "Gus and I had to set things right because of what that General Grant did to our son. My boy died in a Northern camp because that God-damned President Grant stopped the prisoner exchange! Just put an end to all hope, he did, the evil devil! We've been working against the Union ever since then, and we aim to do so until we draw our last breath."

Johnny spoke without emotion. "Gus and Bradley are gone, Esther. The whole unit was wiped out."

Esther looked up, confused. "Oh no, my boy. You've got it all wrong. Vernal Ward was the only one killed." She wagged her head and tutted. "I told Vernal the timing was all wrong when he wanted to go after Grant back in Washington. He almost ruined it for the rest of us, and he was about to mess up our plans once again. I told him not to interfere. He really should have listened to me. Gus killed Vernal the night Bradley went over to Atwater to get you. Cut his throat."

Johnny swallowed. Even though it was very hard to imagine the kindly old doctor as a murderer, after what he'd witnessed in the Lancer kitchen Johnny believed her. "Did Walt listen to you?" He hated to ask anything of Esther, but he wanted to understand why Walt had turned against them.

"Walt? Oh yes, the Lancer ranch hand that Bradley recruited. We heard he held a grudge against you for letting him take a bullet in your stead during a quarrel. Wasn't it about a horse?" She shrugged and said absently, "He was just a pawn." Esther's expression changed, and when she smiled it was as if a cloud had passed by and the sun came out. She put her handiwork aside, moved up to the bars and smiled fondly at Johnny. "You were a good boy for the most part. A good son. Listened to your mother. Told us everything we wanted to know in the end." A frown of concern creased the old woman's forehead. "Except you didn't drink my lemonade."

"No, Esther, I didn't drink it," Johnny replied. He felt pity in his heart even though he didn't want to. He had a clear picture of who Esther and Gus really were. Although Johnny's mind understood what Gus had done, and what he had intended to do, there was still a small piece of his heart that went out to the sad, frail woman who was going to hang for her part in the conspiracy.

Esther's pale, watery eyes rose to meet Johnny's. She slowly extended one blue-veined hand and touched him lightly on the cheek. With a sweet smile she reprimanded Johnny. "You're a bad boy, you know. You should have taken those pills with my lemonade. Don't tell Gus," she whispered, "because he wanted you to sleep 'til he came back. But I made up those pills myself, special because I like you. Packed with enough arsenic to kill you right quick. I know what's best for you, my son. My boy. Better than Gus returning and cutting your throat when you were no longer any use to him."

She reached out to touch Johnny's hair, but he stepped back quick, unable to say anything in response to Esther's confession. He had thought she had tried to give him something to make him sleep, to keep him still until Gus and Bradley returned from their raid on Lancer. Good thing he had spat those pills out. Suddenly Johnny felt sick to his stomach.

She smiled a bittersweet smile. "You looked like a little boy when you were asleep. You know, Gus worked real hard to convince you that so much time had gone by. He even printed up that newspaper to show you. That did the trick, didn't it? It hurt me, though, to see you in so much pain when you thought your whole family had been wiped out."

"My God, Bradley and Gus and those men were going to do it in reality, Esther," Johnny said. "They set out to kill my family! Can't you see that?"

"A small sacrifice, my boy."

The door behind him opened and Val called out, "The marshal's wagon is comin' up the street, Johnny. Time's up."

Esther tidied her hair and said, "Go and tell Gus I'm coming. I won't be a moment."

Johnny turned and rushed out of the jail, and it wasn't until he got out of the building that he was able to take in a good breath. His chest heaved as he inhaled the fresh air and thought about how close his family had come to being murdered. After a couple of minutes he wiped his mouth, relieved he wasn't going to lose his lunch after all.

The armored prison vehicle pulled up outside the jailhouse. Val stuck his head out and after a couple of seconds cautiously asked, "You gonna stick around for this, Johnny?"

Johnny shook his head. "No, Val, I am goin' home." In the time it took him to tighten the girth on Barranca's saddle and mount, two armed guards had stepped down from the van and were heading into the jail. Johnny dug his heels into his horse and headed out of town as fast as he could.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

It was several days before Johnny told his brother what Esther and Gus Weatherby had done to him and how they had convinced him that his whole family had been wiped out. The brothers sat side by side on the top fencepost of the corral and Johnny haltingly explained how the Doc and his wife had somehow turned a few days into months. "I had no reason to doubt them," he said.

When Johnny had finished what he wanted to say, Scott asked to see the newspaper clipping. Johnny pulled it out of his pocket and passed the folded paper to his brother. While Scott inspected it, Johnny watched a couple of young colts run around the corral, kicking up their heels, full of friskiness and life.

"Pretty convincing," Scott said when he'd finished reading the account of the raid on Lancer and the assassination of President Grant. "They had no idea Grant was going to bring his son along. I'll bet they looked on Ulysses' presence as an added bonus. Not that killing any of us would achieve anything."

Johnny admitted that even now he had unreasonable moments of panic that it had all been true. "I wake up at night, sweatin'. There's no sound in the house. I'm all alone. I know, just know that you and Murdoch and Teresa. . .you're all . . ."

Scott said, "It was all a smokescreen, Johnny."

When Scott went to hand the piece of newspaper back, Johnny waved it away. He wanted no part of it. "Burn it." Eventually Johnny said, "You know, when I thought you'd all died while I'd been unconscious and. . . useless . . .I just wished I'd been here with you." He stole a glance at Scott. "It seemed all wrong. Hell, I should have known it was all a big lie."

Scott didn't say anything for a while, just studied the horses. Finally, he took in a stuttering breath. Lowering his head, he drew his brows together. "It's easy for me to say, yes, you should have known better, but Johnny, it sounds like they had a very good plan. It also sounds like they kept you drugged most of the time. Naturally, your mind was muddled. I'm sure it was hard to put a thought together. I mean they went so far as to fake a newspaper article. I'm just very glad you caught on before you ingested that arsenic."

"I think you're bein' way too nice, Scott."

Laying a hand on his brother's shoulder, Scott smiled as he took in Johnny's profile. "I'm a nice person." His smile widened but it soon faded away. "Brother, your warning saved us all. If they hadn't coerced the information from you, they still would have tried to kill Grant. They'd have found a way."

"But I liked the Doc. I told him everything."

"You can't blame yourself for needing someone to talk to when you thought your whole life had been destroyed. It's only natural."

Johnny sighed and shook his head, his heels beating a steady rhythm against the corral fence. "I guess. And I guess a lot of people came out of the war with some pretty deep scars whether they were on the battlefield or not." He glanced over and saw the grimace that flew across his brother's face. "I'm just glad you seem normal."

Scott's head came up and he looked wide-eyed at his brother. Then, a slow grin came to his lips. "It's better to seem normal than to know you're completely abnormal, like some people."

Johnny laughed lightly and jumped off the fence. He leaned against the railing and tapped his brother on the leg before lowering his head. "Guess now I'll have to tell Murdoch all of this, too."

"I think he has a right to know the hell his son went through and how close we came to losing you. Besides, there's always a bright side." Scott eased himself off the railing and stood beside his brother, crossing his arms.

"What would that be, pray tell?"

Scott's lips twitched. "Well, I wouldn't be surprised if our father received some sort of medal for his bravery."

Johnny's entire face brightened for the first time since he returned from his imprisonment. "Yeah? That would be great and he deserves it!"

Shaking his head, Scott wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders and started walking them toward the house. So do you, he thought. So do you, brother.

THE END

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Epilogue and notes:

In 1864, during the Civil War, Ulysses S. Grant, the commanding general of all the Union's armies, suspended the exchange of prisoners-of-war. This decision cut off a badly needed source of reinforcement for the outnumbered, manpower-starved South. John Wilkes Booth's initial plot was to kidnap Lincoln and to hold him hostage, forcing his government to resume its earlier policy of exchanging prisoners.

Booth's plan failed so he then plotted to simultaneously kill President Lincoln, Grant, Vice President Andrew Johnson, and Secretary of State William Seward. Booth believed their deaths would throw the Union government into chaos for enough time that the Confederacy could mount a resurgence. On the night in 1865 when John Wilkes Booth assassinated President Abraham Lincoln, Ulysses S. Grant and his wife were not in attendance at the theater as planned and narrowly missed being killed.

Vernal Ward, a former Confederate spy and cohort of the late John Wilkes Booth mounted the next known plot against President Grant. Ward and his cronies planned to kidnap Grant when the President traveled to California to learn first-hand about the thriving cattle business. While kidnapping the son of Murdoch Lancer, a rancher, Vernal Ward had a run-in with his co-conspirators, and was killed. The Weatherbys and their nephew, Bradley Trader, along with his former wartime soldiers continued with their plans, but ultimately failed.

An investigation of the farmhouse where Johnny Lancer had been an unwitting captive revealed a freshly dug grave behind the barn. Although the body found buried there was never identified, he was believed to be Vernal Ward, a known compatriot of Booth and a suspect in the Lincoln assassination.

Esther Weatherby was scheduled to be hanged for her part in the assassination plot against Grant, but due to her age and being a female was instead given a life sentence to be served at a Federal prison. However, on the day she was to be transferred from the court jailhouse she died of natural causes. She was buried just outside Atwater next to her husband, Dr. Gus Weatherby, whose degree in medical science was found to be limited to the veterinary field. Many years later, when forensic scientists exhumed their bodies Esther Weatherby's cause of death was determined to be arsenic poisoning.

The men who were killed during the attack on the Lancer ranch were all identified as being former members of a Confederate unit called The Rousters. Bradley Trader had been the youngest member of that unit during the War Between the States. None of the deceased were claimed by their families, so all were interred in Boot Hill on the outskirts of Atwater.

Although as soon as Grant returned to Washington, he had a committee look into Fox's actions regarding the kidnapping of Johnny Lancer and the attack on the Lancer ranch and the people therein, no evidence was ever found to indicate he was involved.

Agent Fox was relieved of his duties under the Grant administration. His whereabouts over the next several years is unknown. In 1885, Fox reappeared as the personal bodyguard of the newly elected president, Grover Cleveland, a Democrat. Fox diverted an assassination attempt on the President but was mortally wounded during the fracas. Despite supposition that Fox was ducking out of the way rather than shielding Cleveland, and was hit by a stray shot, he was posthumously awarded a medal for bravery under fire.

Grant's second son, Ulysses Grant, Jr. went on after Harvard to graduate from the Law School of Columbia University in 1876. He married, worked in the field of law and finance. A partnership with a Ferdinand Ward resulted in bankruptcy and Ward spent time in jail for fraud. It is believed that Ward's father was the late Vernal Ward, though the relationship was never proven. Ulysses, Jr. remained a lifelong friend to the Lancers, moved to California with his family and opened the U.S. Grant Hotel in San Diego in 1910.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

It is far more important to be able to hit the target than it is to haggle over who makes a weapon or who pulls a trigger.

~ Dwight D Eisenhower, 34th US President (April 17, 1958)

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

thanks for reading - comments and feedback appreciated!