Boys to Men

 Boys to Men

By Sherry Dancy

Thanks to Suzanne for the Beta

 

Chapter Twenty-Six

 

“He’ll get a fair trial, Johnny.” Scott waited on the side of the trail, and as soon as he and Barranca caught up, the ‘discussion’ started. “Turning him in is the right thing to do.”

 

All morning, Johnny had hung back, hoping to avoid this conversation. “What if that ain’t the right thing for Jake?” Pulling the reins to the left, he nodded toward Randy. “I’m gonna check on Miguel.”

 

“Wait.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Johnny, you can’t turn him loose. What do you think it would do to Murdoch if they arrested you for aiding and abetting the escape of a criminal?”

 

“I don’t see how naming this kid a criminal makes anything better.” Johnny lowered his voice. “Everyone’s all het up about having Jake stand trial with the Bartons.” Instead of staring a hole through Scott, he checked the trail; it widened ahead; their pace ought to pick up.

 

“Are you listening, Johnny?”

 

“Yeah, I hear you, Scott. But once Jake’s in court, he’ll find out pretty fast it was Miguel, not me, who pulled the trigger.” Johnny looked back to make sure they were out of earshot. They were, but he pulled in closer. “Then, he either gets off and comes after Miguel or his hate is gonna fester in some prison. Jake’s already half-full of mean. What do you think serving time with men like the Bartons will do to that boy?” Dammit, Scott didn’t understand how anger and revenge ate at a man’s insides, and Johnny sure didn’t want to have that discussion.

 

“And if you let him go, who’s to say the same thing won’t happen?” Scott grabbed his reins when Johnny made to ride off. “Suppose you set him free, and somehow Jake finds out about Miguel. What then? His vengeance is still in play, only there are no bars to hold him. A short prison sentence might teach him a lesson. The boy needs to face the consequences of his choices. Besides, Johnny, it’s the law.”

 

“Even if you’re right, it doesn’t change that I gave my word to him.” Johnny shut his eyes. Dios, he was tired. Tired of this trip, the Bartons, trying to help Jake, and thinking about the whole mess. The last thing he wanted to do was argue with Scott. “Leave it be, Brother. We’ll take him to the guardhouse, okay? But then—I want to talk to Murdoch.”

 

“You can’t believe Murdoch would let that boy go?” Scott looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

 

“No. That ain’t what I think, but our old man is pretty damn good at coming up with solutions. So, I wanna discuss this with him before they cart Jake off to jail—that alright with you?”

 

Scott gave him a brief nod. “Johnny, I didn’t mean to force…I realize…”

 

“You taught me something, Brother.” Johnny dropped his hat into his hand and ran his hands through his hair. “This ain’t your problem; I’ll figure it out.” Then he slapped Scott’s back with his hat before adjusting it on his head. “I’m gonna see how Miguel is holding up.” He turned Barranca and backtracked to where Randy and Davie lagged. Jake brought up the rear, still wearing his hate. It probably kept him going; it was the only way to get through losing the only person he loved.

 

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Miguel had his eyes closed as he relaxed against Randy. “You need anything?” Johnny pulled Barranca along beside them. “How’s he doing?”

 

Randy checked some of the padding on Miguel’s shoulder and showed Johnny. “No bleeding, and the wound still looks good.”

 

Scott rode up before Randy replaced the bandage. “Any sign of infection?” Then he studied them for a beat. “I’ll take him from here and give you a break.”

 

“He’s resting easy—no reason to disturb him. I’m fine, and the horse is doing good.” Randy shifted some in the saddle, and though he looked plenty tired, what he said made sense. They should make Lancer in two hours unless they had to stop more for Miguel.

 

“You need more water?” Johnny dismounted and handed Randy his canteen. It would take a lot to keep Miguel cool.

 

“That’d be good. Thanks.”

 

Even Miguel’s dark skin didn’t hide the red flush of fever. “Do you think he’s getting worse?” He touched the boy’s cheek; Miguel moaned and tried to open his eyes. “Go back to sleep, kid. We’ll be at Lancer soon.”

 

Barranca sidestepped when Jake’s mount crowded him. “I need a break.” Jake’s eyes darted around.

 

Johnny noticed Jake twisting in his saddle. But maybe he just needed to hit the bushes. No need to take any chances. Johnny went over to untie the rope that secured him to the saddle horn.

 

Scott was quicker and leaned over to undo the knot; he left his hands tied. “I’ll handle him.” Scott gave his extra canteen to Johnny. “Why don’t you ride ahead and fill Randy’s empty and the others? We’ll catch up with you and water the horses.”

 

“Sure, but keep a sharp eye on him.” Johnny nodded at Jake when he took Scott’s container and got the one from Randy, but when he started for Jake’s, Scott blocked him with his horse.

 

“I’ll get his.” Scott reached over to where Jake was mounted, wearing that sleazy grin.

 

“You afraid Madrid might do the right thing and let me ride outta here?” Jake asked, watching Johnny.

 

“My brother, Johnny Lancer, will abide by the law. Now, if you plan to drink the rest of this trip, hand over the canteen.”

 

“Whether he goes by Lancer or Madrid, he owes me a life.” Jake’s cold, gray eyes found Johnny’s and sent chills crawling down his spine; Johnny stared until Jake blinked, and a change came over him. His gaze lost its hard edge, and he laughed—but when he shifted his focus toward Scott, Jake looked at him like he was prey. “You might have a point, but I still know how to make this right. Ain’t that so?”

 

“I don’t owe you anything, Jake. If you like breathing, you’d best forget any plans you’re plotting in that crazy head.” Johnny was getting damn tired of the attitude. He stalked toward him, and before Scott could stop him, he yanked the kid off the horse with a power and energy that surprised even him. Then Johnny backed Jake up hard against a tree and held him there. “Now, you may think you have some kind of right for revenge…” The grin faded, and fear showed in the kid’s eyes. Johnny didn’t let up but pushed him tighter against the tree. “…the day you decided to run with the Bartons, it landed you on the wrong side of the law; and there’s a price to pay for that.” He felt Scott’s hand on his shoulder but shrugged it off. “Your brother paid one way, and it appears you’ll have to settle up too. It was you and him, not me or anyone else, who set this in motion. If you want vengeance, look in a damn mirror.” When Jake seemed to believe him, he let go of the kid’s shirt, but making sure, Johnny grabbed it back, jerked him once more, and threw him against the ponderosa pine. Pieces of bark flew from the trunk of the old tree. When he turned around, Scott stood in his way.

 

“Johnny.”

 

“I’ll get his canteen.” Johnny almost whispered it and nudged his brother aside.

 

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Johnny tried to remember gathering the water bottles or mounting Barranca to ride toward the stream. His mind swirled with how he allowed Jake to get under his skin, but the breaking point was when Jake’s revenge targeted Scott. No way would this touch his brother. He’d tried to give Jake a second chance, only to realize it was a wrong call. Dammit, he wished it had been him instead of Davie, who had ridden to Lancer.

 

How had a trip delivering horses that should have been a fun chore for him and Scott, and time away from ranch work, turned into all this? Johnny clicked Barranca to a fast trot, then a gallop, to let his worries fly from his mind and float to the wind. It made him want to be at Lancer; he could ride for a day on rolling hills with clear lakes, where every time he rode over a hill it was like a brand new world.

 

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The place where the creek ran close to the trail came up all too fast. But the ride gave him time to think, and Johnny suspected Scott knew it would. Sending him ahead with the canteens was an excuse to let him have some time to clear his head. That confrontation with Jake helped him see things in a different light. He wished he hadn’t given those choices to him. “Whoa, boy. We gotta fill these water bottles. Drink; you deserve it. Tonight, you sleep in your stall.”

 

Johnny had enough time to give Barranca a quick rub-down before he heard them. When they pulled up in the clearing, he had gathered the full canteens, and they were ready to pass around. “Here’s some cold water, Randy. How’s his fever?” There was still a flush high on Miguel’s cheeks, but his face didn’t seem too warm to the back of Johnny’s hand.

 

“The tea is doing a good job of keeping infection down. The laudanum is helping too, so I don’t think the pain’s bothering him much. Quit your worrying.” Randy took the blue bandana from Miguel’s forehead and unfolded it. “Pour some of that water on this.”

 

Johnny pulled the stopper, soaked the cloth, and handed it and the canteen to him. “Hang on, I’ll lead you to the stream.” He walked them to the shallow end of the creek and patted the horse as he drank. “You need anything else?”

 

“That’s it.” Randy looked him over and leaned his head closer. “Are you okay? I mean, is Jake…?”

 

Johnny figured Randy and Scott thought Jake was getting to him. Since he had allowed him to get under his skin, he answered loud enough that they all would hear. “Randy, Jake is like a muley, a simple thing to handle.”

 

“Wait a minute. What did you say?”

 

“You ever work with cattle and come across a muley? It’s a one-horned homeless cow. If they look healthy and appear to have some sense, we’ll rope ’em and bring them into the herd. But, if they’re ornery and causing trouble, the best thing for them and us is to put ’em down.”

 

“Now, Johnny, I’d have to take my badge off.” Randy put his fingers on the edges of the star on his vest.

 

“You could put it right back on. We’d never tell.” When Johnny saw Jake’s face, that he got his point, he couldn’t help snorting. Then he lowered his voice so only Randy could hear. “Since when do you have to take off your badge at cow killings?” When Scott laughed, for the first time in ages, things seemed normal between them. Not that it was even funny, but he hadn’t felt like laughing since before Davie let those calves out of the branding fence, or at least since he and Scott rough-housed back at camp.

 

Scott dismounted and held his hands out to catch the canteen that Johnny tossed, his eyes still dancing. “As soon as we water the horses, we’ll be on our way—shouldn’t take much more than an hour to reach the hacienda.” He lifted the water bottle up like a toast.

 

“To home, and Lancer.” Johnny tipped his canteen toward Scott and took a long pull. Oh boy, riding under that arch sure would feel right. Mounting Barranca, he waited for the others to head out.

 

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“Whoa! Someone, help me, here.” Randy bit his bottom lip, held Miguel with one arm, and tried to reach a place on his back with his other hand. “I got a cramp in my back. Gosh-a-mighty, that hurts.”

 

“Hold on, buddy. I got Miguel.” Johnny was off his horse as soon as Randy yelled out. He supported Miguel’s weight with one around the boy’s shoulders and used the other to steady Randy. Why had he insisted on making it all the way to Lancer? They should have made him trade off with Scott. Now, he was hurting.

 

“Can you dismount? I’ll help if Johnny can hold Miguel.” Scott held to Randy’s belt. “You ready?”

 

“Slow down. Let me move my back, change positions, relieve this pressure some.” Randy’s face had gone as white as Teresa’s tablecloth. “Okay, that’s some better. Let’s do it.” His groan followed him all the way to the ground. But he couldn’t straighten up to walk. Still, Scott danced and dragged Randy far enough to sit him against a tree. “I’ll be fine. Give me a minute.”

 

“Sit there until I help Johnny get Miguel.” Scott had that same determined look he’d had when he and Cipriano went to that pass looking for Day Pardee and his men.

 

“This ain’t gonna be so easy without Davie and Randy helping. We don’t want to jar him.” Johnny still had his arms around Miguel; though he had moaned some, he hadn’t come to. “Wait. Scott, what if you get up behind him? Why move him? You could take him on to Lancer.”

 

“That’s not a bad idea.” Scott looked back at Randy and then at Jake, who watched from his horse—probably enjoying their troubles—showing off that smart-ass grin. “Johnny, what about Jake?” Scott hesitated as he moved Miguel’s leg out of the way. They were eyeball to eyeball as Johnny held on to Miguel, and Scott slipped his boot into the stirrup.

 

“Don’t worry about him. Go on, now. Mount up so I can check on Randy.” Johnny shifted his hold on Miguel enough that Scott could slide behind him. “You got him?”

 

Scott pulled Miguel back against him. “See if you can get Randy to rest his back enough that he can ride. And you’ll be fine with him?” Lowering his voice, Scott nodded toward Jake.

 

“Brother, you forget my former trade. Go on, now; get Miguel to Lancer. He needs a doctor.”

 

Scott looked at the boy leaning against him, at Johnny, and then at Jake, who was still grinning at their predicament.

 

Perhaps Jake deserved some time in prison. “We’ll be fine, brother. Think of him.” Johnny nodded at Miguel.

 

“Murdoch won’t like me returning without you.”

 

“The old man will understand. We’ll be right behind you.”

 

Scott nodded and turned the horse toward the trail that led home. “I’ll send a wagon if you’re not there by morning.” And then he was gone.

 

“Randy?”

 

“You gotta give me a minute. Sorry about this, Johnny.”

 

“You’re as pig-head as Val. Scott shoulda took Miguel when we rested the horses.”

 

“I know. But every time we moved Miguel, well, you know it put him in agony.”

 

“Well, look who’s in agony now.” Johnny crouched down beside him. “What can I do, buddy?”

 

“Help me stand. I need to walk.” Randy rolled his shoulders backward, stretched his back, and bent one knee and the other. Then he looked toward Johnny and stuck a hand up to him.

 

“Take it slow.”

 

“If you don’t get me off this horse, I’m gonna have a cramped back, too.” Jake had been quiet until now.

 

“Shut up. I ain’t concerned about you right now.” Johnny kept an arm around Randy’s waist until he took a few steps. “You steady enough?”

 

“Yeah, I’m good; I just need to walk it off.” With a hand on his lower back, Randy kept pacing near the trees. He stopped and leaned against one every three or four steps, then he would continue walking. “You best take care of him. I’ll try to be ready to ride soon.”

 

Johnny glanced toward Jake. “You find this amusing?” He was a good-looking kid if not for that sick grin.

 

“You know, Madrid, any trouble that comes your way brings me pure pleasure.”

 

Johnny laughed as he untied the rope from the saddle horn and took hold of the back of the kid’s belt to help him off the horse. “Maybe my old man can write you in San Quentin and send you a running list.” The mention of prison wiped the smile right off his face. And those gray eyes sure went cold and dark.

 

Johnny should have expected it. But the bone-cracking backward kick from the heel of Jake’s boot exploded in his eye and knocked him to the hard ground. For a beat, he couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t even catch his breath. Then something heavy landed on his chest. It was Jake, and with his hands still tied, the fool was grappling for Johnny’s gun.

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Sherry Dancy