Revelations by goldieasj

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With their father Murdoch’s blessing and encouragement, Scott was sent to Sacramento and his brother Johnny went to Chesterton, each to conduct Lancer business.

Scott’s meeting ended first, sooner than he expected.  In Sacramento he single-handedly negotiated a good price for additional acreage to the Lancer ranch.  Scott rode back in a great mood, with near-empty pockets but a fine feeling of accomplishment.  Unfortunately, on his way home, he was robbed by a wayward who stole his gun, jacket, hat, horse and all gear.  The man appeared to be destitute and seemed more than a little tipsy.  But nothing could break the good mood Scott was in.  He found the situation amusing, particularly after the man asked for his help getting into the saddle.  “You know they hang horse thieves,” Scott said with a grin.

“Jus’, jus’, jus’ he’p me with this foot . .  thing.  Never min’ about that hangin’!”

Scott grinned even more and helped the wayward up into the saddle.  “All right, you’re set.  Now how am I supposed to get home?”

The man appeared to consider it.  “All right, all right.  You jus’ wait right there, an’ I’ll send the horse back t’ you in a coupla days!”

“Uh huh.”

Nothing more was said and Scott watched the man ride away on his horse, wearing his gunbelt, his jacket and his hat.  He experienced an odd feeling when he realized it was as if he was watching himself ride away!

It had been a fairly comic situation, but nonetheless Scott had to walk/hitch his way back to Lancer that day.  On the way, he thought about the teasing he would get from his family, particularly his brother Johnny, about his encounter with the thief.  He smiled as he considered the good-natured things they’d say.  He knew he should report the incident to the sheriff, but he had no intention of doing so.  The old Scott Lancer would have headed directly and angrily to the nearest law enforcement, but the new Scott Lancer was inclined to allow the thief to keep the horse and gear.  The man had seemed destitute, and Scott already had everything he desired.   In fact, he had always been wealthy, before and after coming to live at Lancer.  So what could have caused the change in his basic temperament, Scott wondered?

He only had to think about it for a moment, though; the answer was clear.  His new family.  Love.

~~~~~~

The next day, Johnny was on his way home.  He gave Barranca his head and allowed the horse to travel at his own pace through the hilly country.  Johnny relaxed and enjoyed the view.  In fact, he speculated that he had probably never enjoyed life itself more than he had in the last year or so.    Coming to Lancer to live was by far the best decision he had ever made. 

Murdoch Lancer, the patriarch, had been tough at first.  Johnny pondered the times the two of them had butted heads in the beginning, at least until they began to understand and appreciate each other.  But each gave a little, and then a little more, and it wasn’t long before they had cultivated an actual loving father/son relationship.  Johnny smiled as he remembered the early days with his new-found family.  He hadn’t really liked his brother Scott at first, but Scott had been fun to tease.  And still was, Johnny reflected.  Their relationship had blossomed almost immediately.  On the surface they might have been as different as night and day, but deep inside they were similar.  When Scott risked his own life to save Johnny’s, Johnny saw a depth of character he hadn’t suspected, and he liked and respected Scott from that point on.  No, Johnny realized, he didn’t like his brother – he loved him.  And the rest of the family, too.  All had been welcoming to him.  Teresa was like a young sister, catering to him and Scott and Murdoch and worrying over them.  And Jelly, with all his gruffness, was a puppydog at heart.  Johnny felt love from all of them.  And he felt very lucky.

His ride was through lonely country so he had plenty of time to think.  He almost missed seeing the man on the next hill a few hundred yards away.

This was the man who had robbed Scott.  But Johnny, of course, did not know that.

~~~~~~

The man, in Scott’s gear and on Scott’s horse, was over on the next hill, plodding slowly and carefully along since he was very close to the edge of a cliff.  Johnny was delighted at spying what he thought was his brother.  He dismounted and considered calling out to him but recognized the danger “Scott” seemed to be in at the edge of the slope, so resisted the temptation to make noise.  Suddenly the horse lost its footing and toppled over the side.  Scott’s horse and the man who looked like Scott went plummeting to their deaths.  There was no chance they could have survived.  Just like that, they were gone. 

Johnny watched in abject horror.  He screamed “Scott!” several times but there was absolutely nothing he could do to help.  In his heart he knew his brother was dead; he had witnessed the steep fall and the ensuing rock slide that covered him.
 
Johnny was beside himself with grief.  He had just been thinking about how close he was to Scott.  And now Scott was gone!  His beloved brother!  The bitterness of this loss agonized him.  He groaned and dropped to his knees.  But then another thought occurred to him – there was someone who would feel Scott’s loss even more deeply.  Murdoch. 

Slowly he got to his feet and walked to the faithful Barranca.  He buried his face in the horse’s mane before mounting.  There was now a heart-rending decision to make.  Johnny felt he owed it to his brother to attempt to recover the body, but this would take a long time.  Murdoch was still living and was much more important now.  In his heart he knew he owed it to his father to tell him as soon as possible.  Murdoch had accepted both him and Scott into his life and had opened his heart to both of them.  Since he now had only one son remaining, Johnny knew that he himself would have to be the one to deliver the news so it would be as painless as possible.  But this conversation would still be very distressing.  For both of them.  Johnny took a deep breath and mounted up to begin his sad journey home.

In the meantime, Scott returned safely and regaled everyone with the story of how he lost his horse and gear.  Since he had not been harmed and no real damage was done, Jelly and Teresa had a good time teasing him.  He was perfectly fine and happy and eagerly awaiting his brother’s return.

The next day Johnny did return, riding slowly up to the house.  He dismounted and leaned against Barranca for emotional strength before entering.  In the main room, Murdoch saw Johnny through the window and happily opened the door for him.  He was smiling;  Johnny was not.  Murdoch cheerfully greeted him, but noticed his son’s somber mood.  “What’s wrong, Johnny?” he asked.

Johnny respectfully removed his hat.  He had rehearsed in his head how he would tell his father about the death of his other son, but when face-to-face with Murdoch, emotion finally overtook him and he weakened.  “Murdoch . . . .  I . . . . I . . . .  have something to tell you.”

Murdoch waited patiently.  “Yes?”

“Scott  . . . . is dead.”  Johnny squeezed his eyes shut.  It was the first time he had felt tears, and he did not want to appear weak when he knew he had to be strong for his father.

Murdoch smiled.  “Johnny, what are you talking about?  Of course Scott’s not dead.”

“Murdoch, listen to me.  Scott is dead!  I don’t want it to be true, either, but . . . “

Murdoch began to understand that Johnny actually believed what he was saying.  His smile remained but his tone of voice softened.  He grabbed Johnny’s shoulders. “No, no, Johnny.  Scott is just fine.” 

Johnny raised his voice but it faltered and betrayed his angst.  “Murdoch, I saw him go off the cliff at Johnson’s Pass!  Please don’t make this harder than . . . than it is!”  His voice caught and he backed away.

“No, Johnny, listen  . . .” Murdoch pled softly. 

Scott, in the kitchen, heard Johnny’s voice.  Anxious to see his brother again, he rushed into the main room.

Needless to say, when Johnny saw Scott, he was stunned.  Murdoch realized the shock this had to be and grabbed his shoulder to steady him.  “Welcome home, brother!” Scott announced happily, extending his hand.

Johnny glanced quickly at his smiling father for confirmation that Scott was indeed alive.  When he looked back, Scott was indeed still there.  Johnny clasped his brother in a fierce bear hug.   “Sco . . .” he cried, the remainder of the name buried in his brother’s shoulder.  The tears finally broke through as Johnny held on to Scott as if his life depended on it.  Mystified, Scott held him but looked to his father for an explanation.

“He thought you were dead,” Murdoch softly said.  “Most likely he saw . . .  the man who robbed you  . . .”  Scott understood but was stunned; no one had ever wept for him before.  His gratitude was profound. 

Johnny cried for only a moment, but, embarrassed, soon pulled away.  He rubbed his face with his sleeve and considered apologizing but was too discomfited to say anything.  Johnny had seldom if ever felt emotion this strong, and most certainly had never shown weakness before other men.  He looked down and was too embarrassed to remain.  “I thought you were dead,” he mumbled as he quickly walked away.

Scott and Murdoch watched him withdraw into his room.  “I’d say he loves you very much,” Murdoch said softly.

His words rang true.  Scott stared after his brother, even when the door had closed.

~~~~~~

Johnny did not appear at supper, so Teresa went to his room to get him.  Surprisingly, he opened the door when she announced herself.  She happily welcomed him home and insisted he join the family for dinner.  He declined, but she was persistent.  They arrived at the table, arm in arm, as Scott was placing slices of turkey on plates.  Everyone happily greeted Johnny, but he only acknowledged Jelly, whom he had not yet seen.  During the meal, Scott amused everyone by talking about what happened on his trip as well as his comic encounter with the thief.  Teresa teased him again but Johnny did not.  Johnny was pressed to talk about the business transacted on his trip and did so grudgingly.  It was clear he was uncomfortable talking.  When Teresa and Jelly talked about how they spent some time trying unsuccessfully to teach Dewdrop the goose some tricks, everyone laughed, and even Johnny smiled.  When the family retired to the parlor after dinner as they always did, Johnny announced quietly that he was going for a ride instead.  Teresa was surprised but Murdoch and Scott give each other knowing looks.  The family spent a quiet evening at home without him, Murdoch and Jelly playing chess, Scott reading Dickens in an armchair near the fireplace, and Teresa knitting.

It was past midnight when Johnny returned to the ranch and bedded Barranca down for the night.  When he approached the front door of the house, he could see through a curtained window that there was a lamp burning near the fire.  He was pleased that someone had remembered to do this for him.

But when he entered, he saw Scott, still reading in the same chair.  Scott smiled at him.

Johnny had hoped to sneak in without detection.  “What are you doing up so late?” he asked.

Scott put down the book.  “Waiting for you.  I was hoping we could talk.”

Johnny sighed deeply.  “Yeah,” he said softly.  He locked the front door and removed his hat and gunbelt.  He walked slowly over to the fireplace and sat in the chair opposite Scott.  It was clear to Scott that his brother was uncomfortable.

Scott was about to start the conversation when Johnny said, “Listen, could we . . . could we turn that down?”  He pointed to the lamp that Scott had been reading by.

Not really surprised, Scott reached over and turned the lamp low.  They were now lit primarily by the light of the fire.  Scott knew that facial expressions were hard to read in this limited light and he figured Johnny would be more comfortable this way.  Instead of talking, he waited.

In a moment, Johnny said, “Scott, I think . . . I think I owe you an apology.”

To his great credit, Scott read Johnny perfectly.  “Never apologize for caring about someone, Johnny.”

Johnny looked down.  “Yeah.  Yeah, that’s it, I guess.  But I should never have broken down like that.  Long time since I cried last.”

“I understand.  You were very happy.”

“Damn right I was happy!  Scott, I thought I saw you die!  I watched that guy fall to his death, and there was nothing I could do to stop it!  I thought it was you!   Man, that was the most miserable day of my life!”

Scott was pleased that Johnny was talking so openly about himself, a rare event, but he had something important to say as well.   He waited to speak until he felt Johnny had said all he wanted to.  “I’m glad you care about me, Johnny.  I feel the same way.”

Johnny had been riding a bumpy emotional road the last couple days and the trip was not over yet.  He looked up to see Scott’s face reflected in the firelight.  He saw honesty and love, two emotions he seldom had experienced until he came to Lancer.  He smiled shyly at his brother and reached out his hand, which Scott took gladly.  After a quiet moment, Johnny walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured each a drink.  “Scott, care to join me in a brandy?”

“That’s Murdoch’s cognac.”

“All right, cognac then.”

“Yes, that sounds perfect now.  That will go down smooth.”  He took the drink Johnny offered and they clinked glasses.  “To brothers.”  “To brothers.”

Both settled back into their chairs and enjoyed the warming effect of the cognac.  Scott knew it was now his turn to talk.  He took a deep breath.  “Johnny, I have something to tell you.  I don’t know if I’d ever have gotten around to telling anyone, but after today, I’d like to share this with you.”

“What, Scott?”  The cognac was doing its job.  Johnny couldn’t be happier or more comfortable.  He was warm and felt secure in the company of someone to whom he had opened his heart.

“It’s about the way I was raised.”  Scott hesitated.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

Scott looked down.  “Murdoch was lied to by my grandfather.  In fact, I was lied to by my grandfather.  Over and over.  My life was a lie.”

“What are you talking about, Scott?  I thought he raised you ‘properly’.”  Johnny was unsuccessful  keeping the sarcasm out of his voice, but Scott ignored it.

“Oh, he raised me properly, all right!  I went to the best schools, tutors in the summertime, sent on trips to Europe.  The best of everything, always.”

“Sounds to me like it wasn’t so bad.  What’s this big lie you’re talking about?”

Scott inhaled deeply before continuing.  Johnny instinctively knew something intense was coming.  He also knew that Scott was now opening his heart to him, just the same as when he had confessed his emotions to Scott a short while ago.  He waited respectfully.

“Johnny . . . my grandfather didn’t love me.  I don’t even think he liked me.”  He looked away, anger obvious in his face.

Johnny figured his brother needed a minute to gather his thoughts, so he poured more cognac into Scott’s glass.   He refilled his own glass as well.  “Go on.”

“He didn’t want me in his life.  Child hanging around.  So he got rid of me.  When I was still young, I spent most of my time with my nanny Elise or else my grandfather’s two sisters.  They were nice enough to me, but I always got the impression they weren’t too happy about having to take care of me, either.  When I got to be school age, he sent me away to school.  Every year.  Then military academy, then college.  Not always in Boston, usually somewhere else.  So I wouldn’t be too near.”

All this was surprising to Johnny, who had always assumed closeness between Scott and his grandfather simply because he had been raised by him.  “Well, you must have had some time with him.”

“Not really.  He didn’t seem to want to know me.  In our rare times together, I had to be sure that I minded him and had good manners and never spoke unless spoken to.”

“What about summers?  When you weren’t in school.”

“He sent me away.  That’s when he usually sent me somewhere on vacation, often in the company of my great-aunts, never him.  And if I was spending the summer with him, which was rare, he hired a tutor to keep me busy each day.”

“Come on now, Scott.  Maybe you’re exaggerating a little?  You certainly must have come home for Christmas.  The family time of year.”  Johnny hesitated as he said this since Christmas had never been family time for him.

“No, Johnny.  That was the worst of all.  I spent every Christmas vacation at boarding school.  My grandfather was always too ‘busy’ to have me come home for a visit.”  Johnny thought he detected a glistening in Scott’s eyes when he continued.  “Oh, Johnny, you can’t imagine how alone you feel when you see all your classmates leave, one by one, for their homes at Christmastime!  You say goodbye to them and wish them a happy Christmas, knowing that your own will be sad and lonely because nobody wants you.  Then you see them return after Christmas, plying you with stories of family adventures and gifts and holiday meals and happy times! And you just . . . “  Scott was unable to go on.  He looked away.

Several moments passed in silence.  Scott didn’t seem to want to continue, and Johnny wasn’t sure what to do.  His heart went out to his brother and he knew he should be saying something like “I’m sorry” but he had already apologized once that night and could not think of the proper words to express his truly heartfelt empathy.  He recognized that they both were more than a little emotional, probably due to the cognac, which reminded him to pour more into each of their glasses.  “Thanks,” Scott whispered.  He took a deep uneven breath.

Johnny sat back down.  “If he really didn’t want you around, why did he take you from Murdoch in the first place?  I think Murdoch would have been happy – thrilled! – to have raised you himself.”

“I know that now,” Scott said.  “Johnny, it’s a sad reason.”

Johnny waited.

“All my grandfather cared about is that Murdoch didn’t have me!  It really didn’t matter what happened to me as long as I would not be raised by my father.  Their rivalry was that strong.”

This was an idea so inexplicable that it took Johnny’s breath away.  “But why?”

“Because the only person my grandfather has ever loved – besides himself – was my mother.  His daughter.  And he blamed Murdoch for her death.  And he always will.”

“Oh, Scott.”  Johnny knew his brother was right.  He had seen Harlan and witnessed his selfish behavior firsthand.  It all fit into place.

“All through childhood, whenever I asked him if he loved me, he always said the same thing.  ‘Grandfathers are supposed to love their grandsons.’  I never got a straight answer.  If I told him I loved him, he never said it back to me.  Maybe that’s the only time he was ever honest with me.”

“Scott . . . “  Johnny shook his head and looked down.  This was painful to hear.

“There’s more.  My grandfather told me my father had abandoned me when I was born and didn’t want me.  And yet, I remember a couple of times when I was told to hide in the attic because there was a man coming to the door who would ‘try to take me away, and we certainly don’t want that, do we, Scotty?’”  The disdain in Scott’s voice was genuine and probably enhanced by the liquor.  “The more I think about it, Johnny, the more I think that it was Murdoch!  He said he came all the way to Boston a few times to try to get me away from . . . there . . . and that I was never home at the time.  It kills me to think that it was probably Murdoch I was hiding from in the attic!  Hiding from my own father!  Murdoch wanted me and I never knew it!  My god, if I’d only known then what I know now!  How I would have loved to have been raised right here at Lancer, by a father who really did want me!”

Johnny held the cognac glass between his hands and stared at it.  “Me, too,” he said softly.  After a respectable moment, he asked, “Are you going to tell Murdoch?”

“I just don’t know.  He deserves the truth, but it would hurt him.”

“Oh, I think Murdoch is stronger than that.”  Johnny looked up.  He appreciated being able to see his brother’s face nearby in the flickering firelight, a face that only a few hours ago he thought he’d  never see again.  “Why did you tell me all this?”

“Because I’m grateful to you.  Because you love me, when not many people in my life have.  And because I know now I can trust you.”

Johnny smiled and looked down.

“And most of all, Johnny, because I’m drunk!”  They laughed together, a bittersweet laugh that transcended the stress of the subject.

Johnny leaned back and concentrated on the warmth of the cognac.  He also had a deep painful secret, something he had never expected to share with anyone.  Instinctively he knew that this was the time to get it off his chest.  Scott trusted him; he owed his brother the same trust.  “Listen, Scott, I have something to tell you too.”

Scott was still chuckling.  “Is it something I have to be drunk to hear?”

Johnny smiled.  “I don’t know.  Maybe.  Listen . . .  hard to believe, but my life was pretty much like yours.”

Scott turned his full attention to his brother.  “What are you talking about?”

“I was raised by my mother Maria, but she didn’t want me either.”

“’Maybe you’re exaggerating a little?’” Scott said in a mocking tone.  He immediately regretted it when Johnny looked down and said in a small voice, “I wish I was.”

“I’m sorry.  I’m listening, Johnny.”

“Murdoch says I lived here until I was two years old, then Maria ran away and took me with her.  I don’t remember being here that young.  My first memories are in Mexico – some man hitting me.”

“Your first memory was of someone hitting you?” Scott asked incredulously.

Johnny nodded.  “Murdoch and Teresa say Maria left here because she found another man.  He took her – and me – back to Mexico.  This might have been the man I remember hitting me, I don’t know.  I do remember that there was one man after another for my mother.  Maria ‘entertained’ a lot at night and I was always told to wait outside.  Sometimes it rained or I got snakebit and I came inside.  Then both she and the man would beat me.  We never had much to eat, either; I was hungry a lot.   Scott, Maria didn’t love me at all.  Maybe she did when I was young, maybe when I was first born, who knows?  I don’t remember any love from her.  I thought about running away from her, a lot.”

Scott was deeply affected.  His heart went out to his brother but he didn’t want to say anything for fear of interrupting Johnny’s speech, the longest and most emotional Scott had ever heard from him.  He poured yet more cognac into their glasses and waited.

Johnny picked up the glass but instead of drinking, he just held it.  “One day she saved me the trouble.  I was coming home from school and saw her leaving in a buggy with a new man.  I stopped them and asked to ride along.  She told me they were just going for a short ride and I should go in the house because she had left something there for me.  I got excited – thought it might be food!  Oh, I found what she left me, all right;  it was a note.  A note saying she was going away with that man and would not be coming back.  It said I was big enough to take care of myself.”  He held the glass up in a fake toast and drank.

“Oh, no . . .”

Johnny sighed deeply and shook his head sadly.  “I crumpled the note and then I sat down and cried.  It was the last time I ever cried.  Until today, except today I was happy.  Then – I don’t know – I was probably scared, mostly angry.  I knew I wouldn’t miss her.  Like your grandfather, she had never once said she loved me.  It was the last time I ever saw her.”

Scott cleared his throat.  “How old were you?”

“Nine, maybe ten.  I grew up fast.  Did odd jobs, stole food, got by.   I only went to school once in a while but I read books to try not to lose what I had already learned.  Knew I had to learn how to protect myself so I stole a gun and some ammunition.  Practiced with it a lot.  It didn’t take too long to perfect a fast draw.  The next step was to hire myself out.  I remember the first time I shot someone.  He didn’t die, just got wounded and threatened me.  Taught me to be better at what I did.  Little by little, I got a reputation as a gunhawk with a fast draw.  Johnny Madrid!  I was good at it and proud of it.  I could take care of myself.  But, like you, Scott, I would have traded it all for being loved.  The only thing I ever really wanted.”

Scott responded quietly, “I hope you know, Johnny, that you are loved here.  By me and Murdoch and Teresa.  And Jelly, too, although he’d never admit it.  Every single one of us!”  Johnny stared hard at his brother for a minute, then smiled and looked down.

“Because of the way I grew up, I never cared about anything.  Anything or anyone.  Survival was all that mattered, and it’s easier to survive that way.”  Johnny looked up before continuing.  “And then I came to Lancer.  That’s when I finally found out what people were talking about when they used words like ‘family’ and ‘love.’”  Scott nodded in acknowledgement.  Each was lost deeply in his own thoughts and feelings for few minutes.  Then Johnny announced, “You know, I used to smile all the time until I came here!”

Scott was confused.  He had been feeling sorry for himself and for his beloved brother, this new brother who had grown up apart from him, in a different world.  Johnny’s life as a half-Mexican abandoned boy growing up alone in the border towns was sad news to Scott.  Johnny had to learn to shoot just to stay alive.  Scott had lived with him for over a year now and was well aware of Johnny’s ability to mask his feelings, to steel himself against any real or imagined enemy.  Scott could certainly understand and forgive him, but he would never be able to love a person like that.  The brother he treasured was the honest, vulnerable, happy person who was much more approachable than any fabled gunfighter.  This was the brother Scott could relate to, the one who enjoyed life, the one who seemed as happy as Scott himself was to be living at Lancer.  Scott said, “What are you talking about?  Johnny, I see you smile and laugh a lot.”

“That’s just it, Scott.  You see me at Lancer.  You only see me smile when I’m genuinely happy.  When I was a gunhawk, I smiled all the time.  People are off their guard when they think you’re affable.  Saved my own life more than once with that smile!”   He grinned at his brother.

Scott understood and raised his glass.  “Well, Johnny, I’m glad you don’t smile all the time here at Lancer!”  Once again, they laughed.  It was a testament to their closeness that they could admit dismal lives to each other and still laugh together.  Each felt a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

They clinked glasses but instead of drinking, Scott gave Johnny a little hug.  Johnny tousled his brother’s hair and hugged back.  They sat back down and nestled into their chairs.

~~~~~~

The quantity of expensive cognac the two of them consumed, as well as the heady conversation they had shared that evening, worked together to drift them both into blissful sleep.  A while later, Johnny awoke shivering; the fire had died down.

He yawned and ran his hands over his face.  It had been a harrowing two days, but it had ended better than he could ever have hoped.  He spent a moment observing Scott, who was deeply asleep in the other chair.  He looked comfortable but Johnny intended to go upstairs to his own room for the remainder of the night, so he stoked the fire for Scott.  Then he draped the blanket Teresa had been using earlier that evening around his brother’s shoulders.  He smiled as he considered how lucky he was to have Scott for a brother.  And then he did something Johnny Madrid the steeled gunfighter would not have done and would never in a million years have admitted.  Before he doused the lamp and went up to bed, Johnny Lancer kissed his sleeping brother on the forehead.

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~end~

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