Boys to Men-Chapter Twenty-Five
| Apr 26, 2024, 4:03 AM (4 days ago) |  | ||
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Boys to Men
By Sherry Dancy
Thanks to Suzanne for the Beta
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You got them ropes too tight, Scott.” Johnny could almost see the steam coming from Scott’s ears. “They were fine. The knots I tied were good.”
Big Brother just had to make a point, even threatening Jake with a gag when he complained. Then Scott threw Johnny one of those cocked-brow looks.
“What?” It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to tie a man to his saddle horn. But Johnny raised his palms and stepped back. The last thing he wanted was to fight with Scott.
“You…” Scott pointed a finger at Johnny, took a breath, jerked his gloves off his belt, and put them on. “You…” Scott acted like he couldn’t find the words he wanted to say. Then, he finally finished his talking. “…should prepare to ride.” Then he walked directly back to Jake, who shared a sly grin with Johnny while Scott adjusted the knot and loosened the bindings. It didn’t slip past his brother’s notice either because he shook his head and threw them both a dark look before finishing. “We should hurry.” So they mounted their horses, but his brother had ridden stiff-backed and silent, not even answering when Johnny asked about meeting up with the others.
They followed the stream for at least three miles when Scott called a halt at a sandy stretch just off the main trail. “Let the horses drink.” Scott checked his watch and pulled up. “The boys should be along soon.” Scott glanced at the sun and dismounted, then led Jake’s mount to the water.
“You gonna let me off this animal?” Jake shifted in his saddle. “I can’t feel my fingers.”
“Those ropes…are plenty loose. You can thank Johnny for that.” Scott undid the ropes from the saddle horn, leaving his hands tied, and handed Jake a canteen.
“How do you expect me to grab on to that?” Jake made a big show of being clumsy when he took the water from Scott.
“Save your breath, Jake. You can hold it fine if you’re thirsty enough.” Johnny hoped Scott wasn’t right, but maybe Jake belonged in jail—something about his eyes.
“Dismount.” Scott took the canteen back and motioned Jake down. “Sit against that tree next to the stream.”
“Johnny.” Scott took a sip from his water bottle. But his eyes narrowed like he was studying him.
“Yeah, brother?”
“Don’t even think of untying him. The ropes stay.”
“That’s not what I was thinking at all.” Johnny tapped Scott’s belly and stooped to fill his canteen. The sycamore’s shade felt good. He wet his bandana, rubbed the back of his neck, and rolled his shoulders. But that only made the sore places hurt more. Riding with the sun in their eyes all morning had brought back the pounding in his head. At least the road from here to Lancer cut through the shady side of the stream.
“They should be here by now.” Scott pulled his gloves on. “I’m going to check on them. You,” That yellow-gloved finger came toward Johnny, “Keep an eye on him.”
“Does he always boss you around, Madrid?”
“Lieutenant Lancer bosses everyone but our old man.” Johnny dipped his bandana into the cold water and tied it around his neck. At least Jake was making conversation. “You thought about what you plan to do?”
Jake looked away, but not before Johnny saw the hate, like a flintlock, primed and ready to fire. “I ain’t going head to head with Johnny Madrid, if that’s what you’re thinking. Naw, I’ll ride on if that brother of yours will let me.”
“Scott doesn’t have the say-so here.”
Jake laughed. “Does he know you only let him boss you when you feel like it?”
“What goes on between Scott and me ain’t your concern.”
“Weren’t none of your ‘concern’ what went on ’tween me and my brother neither, but you ended that, now, didn’t you?” There, that hate sparked again.
Johnny closed his eyes for a beat. Then he walked over next to Jake and stooped down to eye-level. “Your brother attacked us—didn’t give us a choice. That doesn’t mean I ain’t sorry you got hurt by how things turned out.”
Jake kicked out and tried to trip him, but in the same instant, the fool found the barrel of a Colt in his face. Fear was in his eyes until Johnny returned the pistol to its holster. “If you want to ride away instead of joining the Bartons in prison, I suggest you work on your manners.” Johnny stood. The more time he spent with this boy, the more he worried about the offer of letting him leave. Maybe Johnny wasn’t the only one in danger of revenge. The kid could decide to target Scott.
The sounds of horses approaching saved him from further dealings with Jake, at least for now. As the group came through the trees, Johnny searched for Miguel and found him slumped against Randy, either sleeping or unconscious.
Grabbing the canteen he’d just filled, Johnny went to Randy’s horse. “How’s he doing?”
“Not bad. I gave him some laudanum; he’s been sleeping off and on—some fever, not high.” Randy shifted Miguel’s body toward Johnny to ready him for dismounting, and Miguel opened his eyes.
“Johnny.” The boy smiled, his eyes bright with fever, but his voice sounded plenty strong for someone wounded like he was.
“Are you thirsty?” Pulling the stopper, Johnny put the water bottle to his lips.
Miguel drank like a man who’d just found a lake in the desert. “Whoa. Go slow.” Randy cautioned him. “You got enough fever to dry you out, I reckon.”
Johnny pulled the canteen back and hung it on his shoulder. “Let’s ease him down.”
“I’ll help. You don’t want to unsettle his shoulder.” Scott came to stand next to him. “Johnny, get his waist and hips. I’ll take his upper body in this.” He had a bedroll folded to cushion Miguel as he came off the horse.
Davie rushed over to help, and the four men moved Miguel from horse to ground without causing him more than a few moans and groans. Randy mixed laudanum with water in a tin cup and touched it to his lips. “Miguel, take your medicine and rest while you can.”
The boy nodded. “Si. I take it.” His voice came out just above a whisper when he answered and swallowed a few sips while Randy held his head.
“I’ll see that he drinks this, too.” Davie pulled a canteen from Randy’s horse and sat beside Miguel. It was amazing how close those two had become.
“I’ll fill the canteens upstream from the horses while you water them.” Scott gathered all the water bottles and headed a few yards above the pool in the creek’s bend.
.
.
“Is Miguel gonna be okay, Randy?” Johnny pulled Barranca and the others back from the stream when they’d had enough to drink.
“If that wound doesn’t get infected, he’ll be fine. I got shot in the same place one time, and it’s damn painful. A hurting collar bone on top of a bullet being dug out, the boy’s feeling rough.” Randy rubbed his neck and shoulder like he remembered where it hurt.
“Have him chew some of them herbs he brought for infection. They’re in his saddlebags.” Johnny figured he could pick them out if Miguel was too sleepy.
“Yeah, Miguel told me how to make a tea. I fixed a full canteen, and he’s been sipping it when he’s awake. That’s what Davie pulled from my saddlebag. He’s giving him some now.”
“Good man.”
“Johnny, what about this kid? Jake? Is it? Scott said you want to let him go. Now, I need to tell you, we’re supposed to round up any Barton riders.”
Johnny scratched the side of his head. “You know that fracas we had in camp? His brother got killed. He believes it was me who did it.”
Randy took hold of Johnny’s arm. “Now, wait a minute, it wasn’t you who shot his brother. Details like that might come out at the Bartons’ trial.”
“I know. That’s another reason he needs to leave the country. It’s one thing thinking revenge means going up against Madrid, but, hell, I don’t want Miguel as his target, or any of you. If Jake can get over wanting revenge and move on, it’s best for everyone, and I figure he’s suffered enough.”
“That ain’t how the law works, Johnny.”
“Yeah, and sometimes it doesn’t work—at least not to give true justice.”
“Like Val says, it gets pretty murky if everyone depends on what they feel is right instead of what’s written down. It’s up to the judges and juries, Johnny.”
“Yeah, I know, I know. That’s how my old man thinks, too.” Johnny slapped some dust off his pants with his hat. He’d be glad to get home and clean up. If only he could fix this mess with soap and water.
“He’ll find out you didn’t kill his brother—might as well tell him now.” Randy gave him a look that reminded Johnny of Val.
“Tell who what?” Scott looked from Randy to Johnny. He had full canteens hanging on his shoulders.
“Let me help you.” Johnny reached for some of the water bottles, but Scott stopped him.
“Answer the question, Johnny.”
“I best see if Miguel can eat.” Randy gave Johnny an ‘I’m sorry’ look and headed toward Miguel and Davie.
“Johnny?” Scott wouldn’t quit until he knew.
“It wasn’t me who killed Jake’s brother.”
Scott’s eyebrow went up. “So you’ll let him plan his revenge on you instead of Randy?”
“Miguel shot him. He was guarding the horses and killed the men who came after them and him.” Johnny studied Scott for his reaction.
“So, you’re protecting the boy.”
“What do you expect me to do, Scott?”
“We’ll rest the horses about twenty more minutes. Then, be ready to ride. Here’s an extra biscuit from this morning.” Scott tossed one to him. “I’ll untie your prisoner and take him for a break.”
“Scott.”
“Johnny, make sure you cinch up the horses and have the boys ready to travel as soon as we return.
“Be careful. He’s sneaky.”
“I’m glad you at least acknowledge that, brother.”
.
.
.
“It’s been too long. I’m going to check on Scott.” Johnny knew he should have gone with them.
“They ain’t been out of sight but a few minutes. Here.” Randy pulled a faded denim shirt from his saddlebag and threw it at him. “Put this on. You look like you fought a mountain cat.”
Johnny caught it in the air and looked down at the sleeve hanging off his shoulder and the ripped material covering his chest. “Thanks. But I ain’t guaranteeing you’ll get it back in one piece.”
“I didn’t expect I would.”
After he tucked the clean shirt in, Johnny decided he’d waited long enough. “Randy, it won’t hurt to …
“Johnny.” Scott called and nodded for him to come to where he was retying Jake’s ropes. “How’s Miguel doing?”
“Resting easy.” Johnny tried to figure out what was different about Jake. He wouldn’t meet his eyes. Scott, on the other hand, met his inquiring stare straight on. All the signs were there. Big Brother was on a slow simmer. Something had passed between the two.
“We need to get him on a horse.” That was all Scott said.
“Sure, Scott.” Johnny pulled his watch. “We’ll make it to Lancer before Murdoch sits down to dinner.”
Scott didn’t respond but walked toward camp and shouted, “Davie! I want you to ride ahead to Lancer. Let Murdoch know about Miguel’s wound and tell him we have a prisoner.”
“Wait a minute, Scott.”
“No. There are no other options for him. Johnny, you don’t get to give that man any other choices. Once he stepped outside the law, you no longer had that power.” Scott pointed at Johnny’s chest and then turned back to Davie, whose eyes were wide as he looked between them. “We need Doc Jenkins, and we’ll have to use the guardhouse tonight. Tell all that to Murdoch. He’ll send someone for Doc.”
Davie hesitated and looked at Johnny as if to be sure all that would be okay.
“Go on, kid.” Johnny didn’t appreciate Scott overriding the choices he had offered to Jake. Randy, too, wanted to take Jake in. And no doubt, that would be where Murdoch would land. But going along with this, it felt like he had broken his word. “You’re putting me in a bad position, brother.”
“You put yourself in a bad position, Johnny. How can we be civilized if we don’t abide by the law?”
“Well, I suppose I ain’t civilized. Listen to me, Jake lost his brother. I offered him a chance to walk away.”
“Then put in a good word for him with the judge.”
“Right. A good word from Johnny Madrid.”
“Johnny Lancer.” Scott looked at him like he’d forgotten who he was.
Maybe that was the problem. Had this mess pulled Johnny back to thinking like Madrid? Scott would know the best way to do this; he always came down on the best side of a thing.
But Johnny had seen the law turn a blind eye to the good in a man. If they tried Jake, and he ended up serving time or swung for his part in some of the Bartons’ evil, there’d be no hope for that kid. Johnny had given his word to Jake. And this wasn’t about being Madrid or Lancer. He was Johnny, a man who kept his word.
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