CHAPTER EIGHT

When the Lancer arch finally appeared on the horizon both Scott and Murdoch let out relieved sighs. As hard as it had been to leave the ranch, they both realized the time away had been a good thing. The physical and mental demands of the drive not only occupied their minds and hands, it gave them a refreshing sense of long-lost normalcy and the knowledge that the world did, indeed, go on outside the hacienda walls.

Scott, physically exhausted, finally felt a sense of peace and focus. He was ready to move forward with the next challenge and go on to the next phase of his life. Some pressures had lifted from his shoulders.

Murdoch was just happy to be home. The stresses of day to day ranching always built up prior to the annual drive to market, and the weeks that followed were usually more easy-going. He, too, was ready to take on another challenge; after a hot bath, of course.

The horses' steps perked up, and they even broke into a little jog when their home pastures came into view. The two Lancers didn't hold them back. A loud whinny drew their attention to the nearest pasture where the saw a lively palomino shaking his mane and bucking playfully. Barranca ran to the fence and slid to a stop, poking his head over the top rail in greeting.

"Home never looked - or sounded - so good," Scott said with a smile.

"You can say that again." Murdoch watched the romping palomino take off toward the barn. "I wonder. . . "

"How Johnny's doing?" Scott finished for his father. Murdoch gave him a knowing nod, eyes still on Barranca. "Guess we’ll find out soon enough."

When they crossed under the arch, Maria ran from the courtyard, yammering nonstop in Spanish. Her demeanor was not one of happy greeting. The small woman ran right up to Murdoch's leg and chattered up to the tall man, her face frantic.

"Wait a minute, Maria, slow down! What's that about Johnny?"

Maria stopped and took a big breath, "He is gone, Patron. He and Teresa and the teacher!"

"What?" Scott said loudly from the other side of his father.

Maria tugged on Murdoch's leg, urging him off his horse and he complied, moving stiffly. She chatted all the while, a bit more slowly. The big man's face turned dark as he listened. He translated in a flat voice for Scott.

"They left in the middle of the night. Two nights ago. She thinks they went to . . . where?” Translation wasn't needed on the last part.

“BOSTON?" Scott sputtered

Speechless for a moment, the two men regarded each other in shock.

Scott turned back to Maria. "Johnny? He left willingly?"

Maria wrung her hands and nodded her head. Scott dismounted, tired and sore, and the two men handed off their horses to the stable hand. Murdoch gently took Maria's arm and steered her to the privacy of the courtyard. With Scott by his side the eldest Lancer urged the Mexican woman to explain everything.

Somewhat calmer, Maria told what she knew from the time Murdoch had left up to the day before the shooting. Then she relayed what she had been told about the gunfight. The fact that Johnny had survived was nothing less than a miracle - and a somber realization that his finely honed senses, covering for his loss of sight, had probably saved all of them and Lancer as well.

The redhead gunfighter's body was still in town, scheduled to be buried this very day. There was no mention of Teresa’s rifle shot because Maria had no knowledge of it. When she finished her tale, the small woman pulled a letter from her apron pocket and handed it to Murdoch. “She told me to give this to you, Patron.”

Johnny knew that Teresa was worried about him; he could feel her concern in her touch and in her voice, no matter what the topic. Since demanding to go with him to Boston, his sister-by-heart had been amazingly subdued. Johnny's heart hoped that she wasn’t chastising herself for taking a man’s life - he knew how hard that was to handle.

Maybe they should have waited for Doc Jenkins to examine the body and say which bullet did the job. Maybe if they weren't in such a rush to leave, that could have given her peace of mind. Johnny finally had admitted to himself that he was, in reality, afraid to know. In his mind, his bullet had killed the man and that's the way it had to be.

He felt responsible – entirely responsible – for the whole incident. It was up to him to take the steps to insure it never happened again. Johnny Madrid had to be left behind in the land where he was born because Madrid could no longer take care of anyone. He was nothing but a liability.

Johnny Lancer had to find a new life. The acceptance of this idea came instantly when he realized who had fired the rifle from his bedroom window. That single shot had killed Madrid forever.

Johnny hung his head. Swallowing his pride and turning to Llewellyn had been one of the most difficult things he had ever done, but Johnny Lancer was going to be a man that did the right thing, especially when it came to the safety of his family. Solely focused on the need to get away from Lancer, Teresa’s demands to come along hadn’t been rebuffed to the extent expected from Madrid. The Lancer in him craved the connection and partially realized her need for a connection, too. After pushing Madrid aside, it had been amazingly easy to bring her along.

The three of them were three days into their journey. After a slight delay to clear the tracks somewhere in Colorado, the eastbound train was now finally on the go once again. Johnny laid his head against the cold window, allowing Teresa full use of his right shoulder as a pillow. He assumed it was night; his inner clock was in turmoil. The storm clouds overhead blocked the sun that was his usual timepiece, and they had been in and out of various buildings along the way. He missed the openness of Lancer then chastised himself for thinking about a past life, one that was simply not possible anymore.

He could feel Teresa’s gentle breathing on his neck, warm and real. Johnny contemplated if it was a weakness that allowed her to come. At this point he didn’t care. It felt right and good to have her there. He only hoped that his father and brother could understand his leaving so abruptly. That was a problem he instantly put aside to deal with later. Right now, learning to take care of himself in a wholly different way was his primary goal.

Teresa’s hand clutched the sleeve of his right arm even as she slept. Johnny found her hand with his left, and held it firmly. The soft skin beneath his was reassuring. She was an anchor. It allowed him to think of the life he’d walked away from without regret.

Murdoch and Scott should almost be back from the drive now, if not home already, he thought. He swallowed hard at the note left behind - the one Teresa had to write for him. She hadn't said a word as she took the dictation exactly as he said it. Johnny had thought out the note thoroughly before he'd asked her to write it. When he was finished, he heard her sniff quietly, then whisper that it was perfect.

They left the very next morning after the shooting. First, they delivered Elsom's body to the sheriff with a brief explanation. Johnny insisted the two holes in the body were from his gun, and the sheriff accepted the story with a minimal of questions. The three of them then got on the first stage to the train station shortly thereafter, avoiding any follow-up inquiries.

Traveling blind was a scary thing. Johnny hoped he didn't look as tense as he felt. Again, he was glad that Teresa was there to physically guide him and he grew to appreciate the skills Llewellyn had acquired. Now he had a goal to strive toward, and that helped his frame of mind immeasurably.

During one of the frequent lulls common in travel, Llewellyn was able to pull from both of them an all too brief explanation of who Madrid was. It was shortly thereafter that he cornered Johnny and gently suggested that the ex-gunfighter should obtain some dark glasses similar to the ones that Llewellyn apparently wore; he’d figured out the security Johnny would feel knowing no one could read his eyes since he couldn’t reciprocate. The idea appealed to Johnny, and he was pleasantly surprised by how much that little thing, along with his hat pulled low, helped him feel more confident.

With Llewellyn’s quiet coaching, each day was easier than the one before. By the time they reached Boson, only a half-day behind schedule, Johnny was feeling better about the whole ordeal and the idea of starting a new life seemed less daunting. Teresa stayed close to Johnny's side in the bustle of the big city station. It was cold, and Llewellyn insisted that the first thing they do was buy heavier coats. The blind teacher deftly hailed a cab, and they were away from the noisy station in fairly good time to hunt for better fall wear.

Coat buying was an interesting event. Johnny was amazed at the different textures from which to choose. Finally, he settled on a long, wool coat that seemed to please Teresa. She tried to explain what she got, but Johnny gave her a lopsided grin in mid description. She stopped immediately.

"What's so funny, Johnny Lancer?" she demanded in a huff.

"Honey, you could be wearin' Scott's plaid ridin' pants and I wouldn't know the difference."

She whacked him playfully on the shoulder. "I have better taste than that!" she giggled - he realized he hadn't heard that sound in a long time. "Hey, do you think we'll see those pants again since . . ." she stopped instantly, realizing what she'd said, and the levity of the moment was gone. "I'm sorry, Johnny."

He continued to smile in her direction. "Querida, it's okay. Really. I'm fine."

He felt her take his hand and give it a squeeze. "I know. Let's just get these coats and go, all right? I really would like to sit on something comfortable for a change."

Johnny took the lead and paid for the coats, easily separating the money because Llewellyn had showed him how to fold the denominations in different ways. He let out a sigh when they stepped from the store; that wasn't too painful, he thought to himself.

The small troupe climbed back into their waiting cab and the travelers wearily sagged onto their seats. The sounds of the hooves on cobblestone grew clearer as they left the business district behind. When the cab pulled up in front of the Institute, Teresa let out a small gasp.

"It's a beautiful building! And so big!"

Johnny climbed down, and then helped Teresa down as Llewellyn exited from the other side.

"Our trunks should be here later," Colin said. "Let's unload what we have here and I'll have someone from the Institute take Teresa and me home." It had been planned to have Teresa stay with the Llewellyns in their small home while Johnny stayed at the school. Neither Johnny nor Teresa had any inclination to stay with Garrett or even tell him that they were coming, and the subject of Scott’s opinion on that move was deftly avoided by the pair.

As Johnny paid the cab driver he said, "I'd check the left hind on your horse, mister. Sounds a bit off."

There was an odd, extended silence before the driver murmured, "Uh, sure."

Before the driver could leave, Johnny worked his way to the animal's side, speaking calmly to the creature as he ran his hand down the questionable leg. Frowning in concentration, his long fingers stopped in an area just above the hock. "Here. It's warm and thick right here."

Johnny heard the coach squeak as the driver climbed down and moved in next to him. Johnny felt a large hand briefly brush his as the driver felt the place indicated. After a moment, the driver said. "I think you're right. Ol' Brownie got cast in his stall last night, but I thought he came out of it all right. Guess he got a bruise." The driver pulled back. "Thanks, mister. A full day on this stone would have put him out of commission for several days. You know your horses."

Patting the horse's rump with affection, Johnny nodded. "He should be okay with a little rest. Your harness here is about to go, too. There's a pretty deep crack." He was fingering the leather that draped over the animal's back.

Now a believer, the driver immediately checked it out. "Yeah, you're right. Guess our stable manager's getting a little lax. I'd better report this to the boss when I take Brownie back. Thanks again, mister . . .?"

"Lancer. Johnny Lancer." He stuck out his hand and the driver shook it with appreciation.

"Harry Bellows."

When they separated, Johnny made his way back to Teresa's side where she took his elbow. Bellows called goodbye, and with a cluck, set the horse off at a slower pace.

Picking up the lighter pieces of luggage, Colin led the way to the front doors of the Institute. The doors opened as soon as their feet hit the stoop.

"Colin!" a feminine voice called from the doorway.

Llewellyn mounted the last step and collected the woman in his arms. Listening to the reunion, Teresa moved in closer to Johnny's side, and he wondered if she felt a twinge of remorse for leaving her home so far behind. He knew he felt it, but pushed it aside as an unrealistic dream.

"Sarah, this is Teresa O'Brien and Johnny Lancer."

There was a quick round of greetings and then Sarah insisted they come in out of the cold air. "I'll send the boys out to get your things," she added. "You and Mr. Lancer relax in the parlor for a little bit, Miss O'Brien, while we get his things situated in his room. Then you and Colin and I will go home for a little lunch and some rest. You must be tired. Forgive the noise in the hallway, but the students are changing classrooms. I'll be right back." Light footsteps receded on a wood floor.

Colin moved at a slower pace and stayed close to Johnny as he spoke. "The Administrator, Mr. Searles, would like a word with you before you settle in. I'll go get him, and then arrange for a driver for the three of us." Johnny had no problem following Llewellyn across the large foyer. They stopped in a doorway. "You'll be comfortable here. Small couch at three o'clock, chairs and a small table between at nine, low table in the middle. Table against the wall at twelve o'clock. I'll only be a few minutes."

With that, he led them a few steps into a quiet room that smelled of well oiled wood and left them alone. The number of people had suddenly swelled in the foyer. Johnny could hear the tappings of canes and friendly greetings behind him as he stood just inside the quieter area. He knew it was a small room by the way the sound echoed shortly, and he tried to picture the furniture as Colin described it in his own mind.

"It's a beautiful room, Johnny," Teresa said lowly. "Come in and sit."

Suddenly, Johnny was filled with an anxious dread. Could he really do this? The commotion of people and the smallness of the room made him feel trapped and his doubts resurfaced unexpectedly. Unable to move, he fingered his cane and dropped his eyes. This was going to be hard; very hard, he realized.

Something must have tipped off Teresa because she was at his side in an instant, taking his elbow and nestling it firmly to her body. "I'm scared, too, Johnny," she whispered. "We're so far from home."

Johnny felt a pang at the word 'home'. But coming from one so dear to him, it gave him instant strength. It was for her sake and his family's sake that he make it here. Johnny held his arm firmly aloft for Teresa and allowed her to lead him into this strange, new existence.

Murdoch folded the well worn letter yet again and tucked it away in his pocket next to the accompanying letter left by Teresa. Her letter made it clear that she wasn't going to allow Johnny to be without family; he'd had enough of that in his life already. Those words warmed the big man's heart, but he couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy about the whole departure. The abruptness was a bit infuriating, as well as the fact that he didn't get to say good bye. He was sure they were fine, and immediately sent a wire to the Institute to let Johnny know they had returned to Lancer and received his letter. The reply they had received today let them know all was well in Boston.

Still, something just didn't seem right. Maybe it was because the hacienda was so empty.

Scott, on the other hand, was furious. Since their return he'd existed in a stormy silence that was beginning to wear on both him and Maria. All Murdoch could figure was that Johnny had inadvertently interfered with some plans that his elder son had made. Was he relying on the plan to take Johnny east to get away from the bad memories here? Was Scott relying on the time away to rid him of his grief? Whatever the reason, his normally stoic and pleasant son had definitely gone another direction.

They had been back from the drive for almost two weeks. The fall haying and preparations for winter were well under way. There wasn't anything here that Cipriano couldn't handle, and Murdoch toyed with the thought of going east. His back, however, made him think twice. The drive had inflamed the old wounds and general aches to an uncomfortable level; he had to finally admit to himself that this may have been his final cattle drive. He'd grudgingly reverted to using one of his canes again, and was just getting to the point where he didn't need it every waking hour. A train ride would only exacerbate the condition according to Sam. If they were to have a Thanksgiving at Lancer as a family, now was the time to make it happen. It was also a perfect chance to force his surly son to take it easy for awhile. Forced rest on a cross country train may be just what Scott needed.

The patriarch's musings were interrupted by the sound of something dragging upstairs. With a twinge in his lower back as he rose, Murdoch walked stiffly to the stairs and was surprised to see Scott tugging on a trunk.

"Where are you going with that?" he asked curiously, careful to not provoke his prickly-of-late son.

"The stage station. I'm shipping Alexandra's things to her parents."

Murdoch's brows rose. "Oh," he said neutrally. "I thought Teresa was going to help you with that."

"Well, she's not here now, is she?" Scott snapped instantly. He wrestled the trunk down the stairs while his father watched.

Murdoch saw that he couldn't fit on the stairs, and he wasn't sure he wanted to get tangled in his son's physical fury anyway. Instead, he stepped back out of the way and watched Scott vent on the bulky trunk. The trunk was dragged out the front door and into the courtyard before Scott stopped for a rest. Puffing and wiping his brow, the disturbed blond sat on the object of his anger to catch his breath.

Treading slowly, Murdoch made his way to his son's side and debated in his mind what to say. Scott was obviously hurting and Murdoch wanted to help ease the pain - he just didn't know where to start. Amazingly, Scott gave him the opportunity.

"Does it ever go away?" the younger Lancer said out of the blue.

"What, son? The pain of loss?" Scott nodded and dropped his head. Murdoch thought a moment before replying, not wanting to give a glib reply. With surprising gentleness, he laid the flat of his hand at the base of his son's neck. "I'd like to say yes, son, but I'd be lying. The pain is always there. You just learn to live with it."

Scott studied his hands as he spoke. "Does it get easier?" The anguish in his voice tore at Murdoch's heart. He saw himself in Scott's place so many years before, with Paul O'Brien standing where he was now. His friend's words at the time seemed so banal, but time had proven the man right. Murdoch repeated the words, hoping it would help. "I'm not sure I'd say easier, but yes. Things get better. It becomes part of you, but I think the secret it to not let it make you who you are."

Sorrowful blue eyes regarded him in a thoughtful sideways look as if he wanted to believe, but just couldn't open his heart to the possibility right now. Then a thought struck Murdoch.

"You know, son, it's taken me awhile, but I've learned that family is what makes it all more bearable. Teresa's always been here, and that's been a blessing, but since you boys have returned that lesson has become well learned. And now that Johnny's not here, that lesson's been driven home hard. Teresa is right. Family is everything and will help your heart to heal." Scott quickly wiped at his downcast eyes with the back of his hand at the words. Murdoch was fairly certain his son couldn't speak right at the moment, but asked anyway. "Do you want to go get your brother and sister?"

"Yes." The answer came without a moment's hesitation, and Scott finally raised his head. A small smile etched one corner of his mouth and a long missing spark of life brightened his tear-shiny eyes.

Murdoch slapped his shoulder and chuckled. "Then get to packing some more bags, son."

CHAPTER NINE

Boston in October got under your skin, Johnny realized, and not in a good way. He was constantly cold, and even with activity his fingers, toes and nose always felt icy. The bulky jacket was like a second skin as well as a physical shield; the idea that it hid the fact that he wasn't wearing a gun belt in public was oddly comforting, though.

Johnny also noticed his growing dependence on the heavy cane. It certainly wasn't a Colt, but it was becoming just as familiar to him as the weeks passed. Not able to leave his gun behind in California, it was currently stored away in the bottom of his traveling trunk. The trunk and his valise were the only personal items sitting out in his small room.

His room at the Institute was simply functional. A small bed, a dresser and a chair was all he had, and that was fine with him. He'd put his clothes in the dresser and reluctantly bought some plainer things that would do better in this colder weather. Cold brought out the ache in his thigh and increased his limp, but he didn't let it slow him down. He couldn't; to slow down meant he had to think, and he didn't want to do that right now. It was difficult keeping Madrid under wraps to allow his new persona to grow.

Classes here picked up where Llewellyn left off at Lancer with Braille being the focus. He was expected to take care of his own needs and appear presentable at all times, be punctual at mealtimes and clean up after himself. He mindlessly attended to these tasks, hoping they would become rote on his way to a new life. It wasn't as easy as he kept telling himself it would be. Johnny had a hard time sometimes quelling the rebellious part of him that shirked rules. Turning his back on Madrid was just as challenging, if not more so, than learning to get around without his eyes.

He and Teresa walked around the city at least once a day. They both were now very familiar with the area surrounding the Institute and the Llewellyns' home. The blind couple had a very small house provided to them by the Institute that was between the school and a business district. Any needs were within walking distance. As they walked, she described the area and the slowly changing trees in such a way that Johnny could see them clearly in his mind's eye.

Within the first week of his being there the cab driver they had encountered on the first day came to the Institute and looked Johnny up. Apparently, the owner of the livery was upset by the lax job done by the stable manager, and wanted to know if Johnny would be interested in hiring on. At first, Johnny was reluctant; his desire to work with the horses was strong, but he knew it wouldn't be in the same way as before. He questioned his ability to be satisfied in any other relationship concerning the animals, but Johnny also knew he couldn't pass up an opportunity for work. It was the first step to an independent existence.

So his daily routine shifted again to a new routine - work, school, and mapping the city in his mind. Sunday was dinner at the Llewellyns’, which was getting to be the only time he ever got to really sit with Colin anymore. The man had always seemed a bit standoffish to Johnny, which was fine with him, but after several weeks in Boston, that began to change. Colin's formal edge slowly dissolved and their relationship became warmer. Johnny knew this was a great relief to Teresa; she had grown very fond of Sarah and helped her at the Institute where the blind woman taught beside her husband.

Teresa was a welcome addition to the Institute. Volunteer workers were hard to find, and she relished the chance to help out where she could. She was also learning valuable techniques for making Johnny more comfortable when they got back to Lancer. Johnny knew this was important to her, which made it more difficult as the weeks went by to for him to listen to her talk about her plans for the hacienda.

Johnny had no intention on returning to Lancer and Teresa would have to be told sometime soon.

Then the wire came informing them that Scott was on his way to Boston. Teresa was thrilled, and cried a little at the idea of being reunited with her other brother figure. Johnny was at first apprehensive, but then glad that his brother would be able to escort Teresa home. He knew she wanted to be home for Christmas. So did he; Johnny just had to accept the fact that he was already home, and that was proving to be extremely difficult. There was room for only one home in a heart.

During their regular Sunday dinner, the day after receiving Scott's wire, Teresa brought up a subject they had both been avoiding.

"Johnny, we have to get a doctor to look at you. Both Murdoch and Dr. Jenkins wanted an opinion from a specialist before you came back and we haven't done that yet."

"Dr. Boyer would be perfect," Sarah suggested. "Don't you think, Colin?"

"Yes," Colin agreed. "He would. He comes to the Institute several times a month to follow up on some cases. Would you like me to arrange that for you, Johnny? I think he'll be in on Wednesday."

Johnny started to pick at his meal when Teresa brought up the subject, his stomach doing a jittery flip at the suggestion. 'Why bother?' he thought. 'Nothin's gonna change.' Out loud, he uttered a quiet, "Sure." Scott wasn't going to go back west without it, so the exam might as well be taken care of before he even got here. Then there wouldn't be any reason for the two of them to stay any longer than they had to. In Johnny's mind, the plan was complete. Now all he had to do was inform the others involved.

“So when are you moving in, Johnny?”

The question echoed in Johnny’s mind as he sat in his small room waiting for Dr. Boyer. It had been asked just that morning by Andrew Diamante, the businessman that owned The Easton Street Livery and Stables. Drumming his fingers lightly on the head of his cane in an unconscious action, Johnny felt strangely unsettled as he thought of his reply to Diamante. He pushed the uneasiness aside, blaming it on the expected feelings of a dead man. Johnny wasn’t going to allow Madrid to make decisions regarding his new life.

Footsteps approached his open door, and the low murmuring of two voices, one male, one female, floated through his room’s open doorway. The man was issuing orders and the female was listening. When her dainty strides carried her away, Johnny knew Dr. Boyer had arrived.

“Mr. Lancer? Dr. Phillip Boyer.”

Johnny stood and pushed his hand forward where it was taken in a firm, warm handshake.

“Hello, doc. Can we get on with this?” Johnny sat again and waited for the questions.

The doctor chuckled lowly. “I was warned you’d be rather direct. Let’s get going, then.”

Johnny could hear the pen skritching away as he gave the doctor dates and described symptoms. The questions were pointed and no nonsense, the doctor's tone giving nothing away. After he’d asked more things than Johnny thought possible, the physical exam began. It was difficult to sit still as a complete stranger firmly prodded his skull, sometimes to the edge of pain, but Johnny set his jaw and accepted the handling. He could feel Dr. Boyer’s expert fingers find and trace every scar Johnny could recall that was hidden under his thick hair. One particular query made Johnny’s mouth twitch with a suppressed laugh.

“I take it you remember this one?” Boyer asked curiously as his finger tip circled a particular scar on the crown of Johnny’s head.

“I’d forgotten about that one. Kid hit me with a stick. I was about ten.”

“Playing a little rough, huh?” the doctor commented rhetorically.

After a moment, Johnny mumbled, “Playing. Sure.” A flash of a childhood scene went through Johnny’s head, edged with the corresponding emotion of the time. Actually, starving, Johnny’d been caught stealing fresh made tamales that had been put aside to cool in a border town shanty kitchen. The kid of the house caught him in the act and had whacked him hard, but the kid’s mom had seen the whole incident and stopped her son short of his second swing. She’d given Johnny the tamales and scolded her son, but later in the day the kid found Johnny and threatened to beat him senseless if he came back. Johnny moved on to the next border town that same night, but not before leaving the kid with his own memoir; it was the first fistfight Johnny’d ever won.

Dr. Boyer’s pen scratched paper again, and Johnny heard him clear his throat. “Well, Mr. Lancer, I can see that your skull has taken some interesting injuries. I think we both know which ones are the serious ones. From what I can see, I think you may have an over abundance of scar tissue built up and that’s what’s affecting your sight. I can’t be sure without surgery.”

Johnny sat up straighter. “You mean cuttin’ in my head?”

“I’m not suggesting that, Mr. Lancer. I can’t even guarantee that surgery would even correct it. What I’m saying is that the amount of repeated damage to that one area strongly suggests that is the problem, but without actually looking inside, I can only guess.”

“So what’s that mean?”

Johnny could hear the shrug. “Not much, I’m afraid. It’s possible there’s still inflamed tissue complicating things, but with the headaches now gone for the most part, I’m assuming the swelling is gone. That would leave scar tissue, which, as you know, doesn’t go away. It could shift, though.”

“Shift?”

“Well, if the optic nerve isn’t scarred but the nearby tissue is, it’s possible that somehow the nerve could be separated from the damaged tissue and start working again.”

Johnny thought about that for a second. “So what you're saying is that there could be scars blocking the nerve like a boulder blocks a creek.”

“Exactly.”

“But you don’t know if that’s the case.”

“No, I can’t tell that from this exam, nor can I say I’d see it in with surgery, either. It is an option, though. I can’t say there’s absolutely no hope.”

Johnny pressed his lips together at the sound of that cursed word. Hope. He’d left that behind when he walked away from Madrid and Lancer and he wasn’t about to allow anyone to cut into his head on the meager promise of it. Johnny stood and slipped the dark glasses back across his eyes. “Thanks, doc, but no thanks. I’ll take the no hope. And don’t tell my family any of this. I’ll do it.”

“But Mr. Lancer,” Dr. Boyer started.

“Listen, doc. I’ve caused enough heartache in my family and they don’t need anymore. I won’t accept surgery, especially if it’s based on something as flimsy as hope. I’ve moved on, and they will, too.”

The doctor sighed and briefly patted Johnny’s shoulder. “As you wish, Mr. Lancer. I do understand your point of view. From what I hear, you are adjusting well to your situation. Is it true you’ve taken a job at Diamante’s stable?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I’ll be movin’ in there the end of the week.” He smiled wanly. “Word does get around mighty fast.”

Boyer laughed and gathered his papers. “Not only word, Mr. Lancer, but action, too. I keep my horse there. I was thinking of moving him, but now that it sounds like Edwins is going, I think I’ll keep old Dusty where he is for awhile. You’ve made some excellent improvements.”

“Third stall from the north end, west side.”

“That’s right. I understand you and my old nag have forged a relationship.”

Johnny grinned crookedly. “Yeah, he reminds me of another horse I know. Not a trusting type, is he?”

“Depends on who he’s asked to trust. He’s a good judge of character, old Dusty is.” The doctor found Johnny’s hand and shook it. “He’s never let me down. Any friend of his is a friend of mine.”

“Well, then, doc, I guess since we’re friends, you’d best call me Johnny.”

“Then I’ll be seeing you around, Johnny. When’s Edwins getting the boot? You know, I caught him more than once passed out in one of the stalls. And Dusty can’t stand the bastard.”

Johnny laughed at the comment. “Well, I guess he’s gettin’ the news right about now. Time I got back to work, ain’t it?”

A light rap on the door caught their attention. Dr. Boyer opened the door and Johnny heard a little gasp. “Oh! You must be Dr. Boyer,” a familiar voice chirped.

“Yes, and you are . . . let me guess . . . Teresa O’Brien? Sarah speaks highly of you.”

“Thank you.” Johnny could tell by her voice that Teresa was probably blushing. “I didn’t mean to interrupt; I didn’t know you were here yet.”

“In fact, I’m done. It was nice meeting you, Miss O’Brien. See you later, Johnny.”

“Later, doc.” Johnny started to slip on his coat.

“Well? What did he say, Johnny?”

“There’s nothin’ he can do. He thinks it’s old scars blockin’ things.”

“ ‘Thinks’? He can’t say for sure?” Teresa’s disappointment tugged at Johnny’s heart.

“No, not without cuttin’ open my head and lookin’. And even then, he can’t fix it.” Johnny saw no reason to fan hope to life. This was over here and now, and a little white lie wasn’t going to make any difference. It would, however, save some heartache from dashed hopes.

“We can see another doctor . . .”

Johnny spun around to face her and took a deep breath to temper his words. “No. No more doctors. We both know Boyer is the best around. It’s time to put this aside, Teresa. I’ve got some things to do right now, so we’ll talk about this later if you want, but I don’t see the point.” He found her shoulders and pulled her in for a quick kiss to her forehead, then turned and made his way from the room. As he left, it was hard to ignore Teresa’s sad sniff that would precede new tears.

Johnny left the Institute with thoughts swirling in his mind. Things were working out for once; when Scott got here there would be no reason left for Johnny to go west. He had a job, the school and a place to live. He could be moved into the livery office before Scott arrived, but there was still Teresa to consider. Moving before telling her he wasn’t going west would tip his hand too early.

There was only one thing he had to do to feel secure in his plan. He needed a partner. Fifteen to twenty horses were in the stable that Johnny would be responsible for. He would oversee the leasing out of six of them to cab drivers and make sure the rest - private boarders like Dr. Boyer’s Dusty – were taken care of. When he’d first arrived, Harry, the driver he’d met on his first day in Boston, gave him the tour. Harry was one of the cabbies that rented a horse from the establishment and made a living as a cab driver, splitting his daily take with the owner, Diamante. Harry told Johnny that he suspected Edwins kept a bit aside for himself from time to time when he collected for Mr. Diamante.

Johnny had made an immediate impression that first day, but it was on the negative side. As soon as he’d stepped in the barn, Johnny’s nose told him that cleanliness was a problem. Harry’s mention of various hoof and skin ailments of the lease horses confirmed it, and Johnny’s direct manner made him speak his mind not only to Edwins, but Mr. Diamante as well. Given a chance to prove himself – which surprised him, considering his blindness - Johnny had turned most of their problems around after a week, resulting in more reliable horses and a more steady income. It wasn't without difficulty; the stable hands griped at the extra cleaning work, but realized it balanced out when the horses didn't need as much doctoring. And the place did smell better.

Diamante became a believer. He told Johnny that Edwins was going to be fired one way or another, and that he wanted Johnny to take his place. Johnny hesitated – he could see the pitfalls of being blind in this position, and realized the need for a reliable right hand man to do the job well. When approached, Harry had agreed. Until they could add a horse or two to the livery line up, Johnny would pay Harry with his own wages.

Johnny felt they would work well together and wanted to feel secure in the arrangement, but being unable to confirm his positive gut feelings with a visual appraisal still made him uneasy. Johnny still felt like an outsider and figured he always would. It was time to move on, regardless, and he’d accepted the job just this morning.

Although he was deep in his thoughts, Johnny’s exquisitely sensitive senses suddenly began to tingle. He’d just passed through a section of the business district that hosted a collection of pubs that always seemed to be busy, no matter the time of day. As he rounded a corner, to a quieter street, he realized he was being followed.

His shadow had an uneven gait. Johnny slowed a bit and shifted away from the brick wall to his right, keeping his pursuer unbalanced. Then he abruptly stopped when he knew the area was otherwise clear. A slurred curse from behind was carried on liquor soured breath and Johnny knew the man would be making his move. He waited until he felt the physical warmth of the body before he reacted.

With a duck and a spin, it was just a fraction of a second until the attacker was pressed against the building with the head of Johnny's cane pressing on his windpipe. A gasped expletive of surprise identified the man as Edwins. Johnny smiled crookedly, his face inches from the angry drunk. He was glad for the dark glasses, visualizing the effect he must have, and wondered if Edwins could see himself in the round lenses. The idea made Johnny's grin a little bigger. He pressed the cane’s head a little deeper. Edwins gagged.

“Lost?” Johnny asked with a coolly calm voice.

“Gahhh..hhh!” Edwins gurgled, his breath putrid and hot.

Johnny leaned in even closer, his face a picture of deadly amusement.

“Anytime you wanna dance, Edwins, I got the time. Wanna dance now?” He accented the last word with a jab of pressure, and Edwins stopped squirming. Instead he pawed at Johnny’s steely arms and fought to breathe. He shook his head as much as he could. Johnny imagined his rheumy red eyes starting to roll skyward. “No?” Johnny said, sounding disappointed. Then without warning, he jerked the cane away and Edwins dropped like a discarded old boot at his feet, making a whistling noise as he sucked air.

Johnny stepped back and readjusted his cane. As he moved on down the street, he mentally thanked Colin for tips on how useful this old cane could be.

'Still ain't a Colt, though,' he mused.

Trains normally had a way of lulling Scott into a lethargic state, especially when he knew it was a long trip. This time, the trip had been uncomfortable and cold and with the worst possible company he could have: himself. As a result, lethargy was replaced by exhaustion as his mind vainly searched for some kind of peace.

Murdoch had decided to stay at the hacienda as his back and leg pains were stubbornly hanging on. The idea of sitting on a train for any length of time made his father pull a face that could not be disguised. Scott insisted he stay home and recover fully, and now that the train was slowing to enter the Boston station, Scott wondered if he’d done the right thing. Admittedly sullen himself, Scott wondered if his brother’s attitude had changed as much as Sam had hinted; he hoped so. Two miserable people stuck on a train together would make for a worse trip back.

Then again, there would be Teresa to talk to. Scott sighed. Used to be that he and Johnny could talk about anything, but that hadn’t been true of late. Both of them were saddled with incredible circumstance that had crippled them both emotionally. Scott wondered if it had been long enough yet to call them survivors. All he knew was that after this long, lonely trip east he finally felt a need to move on. He was tired of the grief, tired of the endless ‘what if’ scenarios that played out in his head, and tired of dealing with all this conflict alone. Scott wanted to be surrounded by family again. He wanted his brother and sister.

Jerking to a stop the train let out a sigh of steam and the passengers rose as one, milled about, and slowly trickled to the exit doors. Cold bit his cheeks as he crossed the threshold, and Scott paused to glance around the snow-frosted platform, and, not seeing anyone right away, stepped down. Automatically, he flipped up his jacket collar, tucked his traveling valise under his arm and reached for the gloves in his coat pocket as he walked slowly toward the luggage car.

“Scott!”

Teresa’s voice sounded like spring. A grin touched his cheeks before he even looked up to see her huge smile and waving hand. His eyes locked on her and Scott weaved his way through the crowd with pointed determination, scooping her up in a bear hug as soon as he reached her. He would have swung her around, but the press of people didn’t allow for that. She laughed and hugged him tightly back.

“Keep that up and you’re gonna knock over some innocent bystanders.”

At the sound of his brother’s voice, Scott set Teresa down and turned to find him. For a moment, Scott was taken aback by what he saw. If it weren’t for the familiar cowboy hat, albeit dusted with powdery snow, Johnny would have blended into the crowd. The long, wool coat with turned up collar, gloves and cane were all unfamiliar, but the strangest thing to absorb was the dark glasses. Scott had never seen Johnny wearing any kind of glasses before and it was eerie. Johnny’s eyes were so striking and full of expression that covering them made his face look . . . ordinary. And ‘ordinary’ wasn’t a word Scott would ever have associated with Johnny Lancer.

“Hey, brother,” Scott said warmly, pulling himself out of his reverie and giving Johnny a quick hug. Holding onto Johnny’s elbow, Scott stepped back and tried to find something of the sibling he remembered. “Uh, Murdoch wanted to come,” he said, finding words difficult and unable to pry his eyes from Johnny’s face.

Teresa must have felt Scott’s unease because she moved in and took his arm. “Let’s get your bags. We have a coach from the Institute waiting for us.” She coaxed him to move and after a few steps he lagged and glanced back.

“What about Johnny? Shouldn’t one of us . . .”

“Johnny’s fine, Scott. Just don’t walk too fast,” Teresa said in a low voice. Scott did see that Johnny was following behind, his head thoughtfully bowed and using his cane with obvious concentration. “He’s getting around very well on his own. You’ll be amazed.”

“He’s limping.”

“It’s the cold. Some days are better than others, but the doctor says the pain will go away eventually.”

“I’ll meet you at the coach,” Johnny said just loud enough to be heard. Scott and Teresa stopped and turned to him. “That way you can talk about me and I won’t hear.” Recalling his brother’s attitude the last time he saw him Scott waited for his brother to explode angrily. Instead, the small smile that appeared on Johnny’s face after the comment took Scott by complete surprise. “I’ll take your valise if you want.” Johnny held out his hand, the smile turning a bit lopsided.

“Uh, sure.” Not sure what else to do, Scott handed over the traveling case. Johnny took it and turned away from them.

“We’ll be right there, Johnny.” Teresa tugged on Scott’s arm, breaking his astounded stare. As she pulled him toward the luggage car he couldn’t keep himself from glancing back.

“He’s okay in this crowd?”

“Yes, he’s fine! Like I said, you’ll be amazed. He has a job, too.” The slack jawed surprise on his face made Teresa giggle shortly. “You should know better than to underestimate Johnny,” she scolded lightly.

“I guess I should,” Scott admitted as he turned his attention to finding his bags. “I didn’t know what to expect. When we left, I was sure we’d be coming back to Llewellyn’s funeral.”

Teresa let out a short laugh. “Since the trough incident, Johnny’s been a different person, Scott. Something happened. I don’t know what, exactly, but it doesn’t matter. He’s doing amazing things. The Institute has been wonderful. And Sarah and Colin . . .”

“I understand you’re staying with them. Didn’t Grandfather offer a place to stay?”

Instantly, she flushed under the cold-induced pink of her cheeks and ducked her head. Flakes of dry snow fluttered from her hair. “We, um, didn’t contact him until after we’d been here for a little while. He also invited us to dinner but Johnny . . .” Teresa shrugged her shoulder. “You know how he feels about Harlan, Scott. And in his condition he just wouldn’t feel comfortable there. He’d feel, you know, vulnerable, so I we didn't go. I never told Johnny about the invitations. I did stop by and thank him, though.”

Scott adjusted his grip on his bags and started making his way through the crowd. “I suppose I can understand that. It seems rather silly to have the three of us in three different places, but it won’t be for long.”

Tears instantly shined in the young girl’s eyes and she touched his hand briefly. “Oh, Scott, I miss home so much. It’s been a wonderful visit, and I’d love to see more of the city with you, but I’d really like to have Thanksgiving at Lancer.”

Scott smiled and felt warmth in his heart he hadn’t experienced in what seemed like a very long while. “Me too,” he said. "Did Johnny get a doctor to look at him yet?"

Teresa nodded. "Dr. Boyer from the Institute. I don't think there's anyone better in the city, Scott."

"And?"

Teresa was unable to hold his gaze. "It wasn't good news," she said softly.

"Oh." Scott felt a stab of disappointment, and dropped the subject.

Breaking from the crowd at the cab stand, Scott saw the figure of his brother standing next to a jittery bay hitched to a boxy coach. The driver and Johnny were talking as Johnny ran his hands down the horse’s neck with affection. Scott could tell his brother was calming the animal, but he turned toward them as they approached. Still, nothing gets by you, does it? Scott thought with tempered amusement, happy to see a bit of his sibling that hadn’t changed.

Johnny turned his attention from the driver to the approaching pair. “Roca here is new to the traces so I’ll stay with him until you load up,” Johnny said in a calm tone.

“Sure thing,” Scott quipped, walking past his brother and opening the coach door. After he threw in his bags he helped Teresa inside, and then Scott paused at the open door, wondering what he should do now.

He didn’t have long to wait. With a final, reassuring pat Johnny turned from the horse and came back to the coach after a few, low words to the driver. Johnny stepped in behind Scott and they settled into their seats as the coach lurched forward. Scott noticed Johnny massaging his thigh.

“The leg bothering you?” Scott asked.

“A little. I can manage. I take it the drive went well?”

Safe subjects didn’t help to dispel the awkwardness between them by the time the coach arrived at Garrett’s. Scott wanted nothing more than to have a long and deep conversation with his brother, alone; he’d managed to push Alexandra and his grief aside during the drive to market, but had dwelled too much on them in the trip east. Now was Johnny’s time, and Scott was ready to deal with him. The older brother could clearly see that there was a lot of catching up to do, but he decided that he should settle in first. A bath was definitely the first thing on his list.

Once at Harlan’s Beacon Street address, Johnny climbed down and went immediately to the jittery horse where his voice and hands calmed the animal almost instantly. Scott helped Teresa down and as he unloaded the coach, the grand pair of doors on the mansion swung open and a older man in a suit crossed the porch and descended the stairs.

“He wasn’t too friendly when I came by that one time,” Teresa whispered to Scott.

“He isn’t paid to be friendly, just efficient,” Scott replied with a wink.

“Scotty!” Harlan’s voice carried from the open doors and his grandson unconsciously straightened up. Scott offered his elbow to Teresa and led her forward to greet the old man.

“Sir,” Scott said formally, offering his hand. “You remember Teresa and Johnny.”

Garrett shook Scott’s hand and then turned to Teresa. “Miss O’Brien. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Our last visit was too short.”

“Mr. Garrett,” Teresa said politely.

The butler disappeared into the house with the luggage and Harlan indicated the entry with a sweep of his arm. “I have some hot beverages and a light lunch waiting. Please, come inside. Johnny?”

To Scott’s surprise, Johnny stepped from the horse and started coming toward them without hesitation. After a few steps, however, he stopped and cocked his head back. Shortly thereafter, a large, rattling wagon pulled by two fast moving draught horses noisily rounded the corner, barreling their direction. The skittish bay jumped in surprise and tried to bolt, but the driver managed to barely keep the horse in place.

Johnny’s movements were fast and quiet, and he was at the bay’s side in a fraction of a second. Scott realized that his brother had been in motion before the noisy wagon had even rounded the corner. With Johnny at Roca’s side, the dancing horse managed to contain its fright and slowly get itself under control again. After a few moments with all its feet on the ground at once, Johnny stepped back and signaled for the driver to go.

“Thanks, Johnny!” the driver called as he moved off at a controlled clip. “I’ll be back at 2:00.”

Johnny waved, and turned back to the small group. Adjusting his cane in his hand, he hesitated a moment and cocked his head slightly before coming toward them.

“Well, that was quite impressive,” Garrett beamed. “I’d heard you had a way with horses.”

Scott turned to his grandfather with a befuddled look. Since when did Harlan Garrett care about his brother’s well being? From the corner of his eye he could see the same surprise on Teresa’s face. When Johnny was closer, Harlan reached out and touched the sleeve of Johnny’s coat. “Shall we go inside out of the cold?” With a light hand, the old man set Johnny in the correct direction and walked beside him to the front doors.

Scott was jerked from his astonishment by Teresa, who had taken his elbow. “Follow them, I guess?” she said lowly.

“Sure.” Scott noticed that she looked as puzzled as he felt.

Scott watched as Johnny pulled off his hat and coat for the butler to put away, but he kept on the shaded glasses. If it was disconcerting to accept that part of Johnny, the plain cut of the clothes under the coat seemed even more out of character. It was like he was looking at a stranger. Feeling a bit off kilter, Scott barely noticed his own coat taken away. He couldn’t take his eyes off this new person that was his brother.

Harlan Garrett was a polite host, but there did seem to be a slight lack of warmth as he led them to the parlor. After coffee was disbursed and everyone was seated, Garrett initiated conversation, mostly from Johnny and Teresa.

Scott learned a lot about his brother’s abilities by listening to the short replies Johnny supplied to Garrett’s questions, but knew there was more. There was always more to what his evasive brother said, and he grew more and more curious about the past weeks. Getting Johnny alone for a real talk would go a long way to re establishing their relationship, but it wasn’t going to happen today, it seemed.

Scott got the impression that his grandfather was making a point to make it clear exactly what Johnny had done in his time here. The vision of showing off a prize horse in an auction arena came instantly to his mind. With a dismissive shake of his head, Scott told himself that was silly; Harlan was merely showing polite interest. He made himself focus on something else.

Listening to Teresa, Scott could see the obvious pride in her brother-by-heart’s accomplishments. Reflecting over the events of the recent months, he was glad to see that she seemed to be recovering from all that had happened. At Lancer, Teresa had been hard pressed to leave the house. Here, she seemed to have regained her confidence. He hoped that he gave off the same feeling. Scott was satisfied that the trip seemed to be a good idea after all.

“Scott?”

Harlan’s voice made Scott realize his mind had wandered and his grandfather had called to him at least twice. Embarrassed, he cleared he throat and felt a slight heat rise on his cheeks. “Um, yes?” he stammered.

Johnny’s lopsided grin caught his attention which was something the older brother hadn’t seen in awhile. He automatically readied himself for a teasing remark. His own smile at the reaction felt good.

“Your mind wandering farther than your train ticket says? An’ you pick on me for not payin’ attention,” Johnny smirked.

“Yeah, well, apparently you’ve learned how to sit still in the past few weeks,” Scott shot back. “Guess I’ll have to find something else to pick on you for. Shouldn’t be hard.”

“Scott Lancer!” Teresa said in mock disapproval.

Johnny chuckled and relaxed back into the overstuffed chair fingering his cane where it leaned against the chair’s padded arm. “It’s good to have you back, brother. No one else around here talks to me quite like you.”

“I hope not. It’s my job as the older, smarter brother.”

Garrett watched the bantering at first with perplexed surprise, but then his expression changed into something that was unsettling to Scott. He frowned for a moment, trying to pinpoint the feeling, but they were interrupted by the less-than-friendly butler.

“Lunch is served.” The severe man topped the comment with a short bow. Again, automatically, Scott looked to his brother for the regular amused grin that accompanied such a display of formality but Johnny’s expression remained the same. Scott mentally kicked himself for the expectation and reminded himself that things had changed in his absence. 'Get used to it'.

CHAPTER TEN

Scott woke the next morning feeling immediately displaced. It took him several moments to recall where he was, and several more to realize that he’d slept an entire, dreamless night without waking up. Eventually deciding it was because there were no memories of Alexandra here, Scott accepted the gift of sleep and rose to ready himself for the day.

As he shaved and dressed, he thought back on the prevalent discomfort from the previous day. The midday meal downstairs was uncomfortable with Johnny pushing his food around without really eating. The soup dish was finished without incident, albeit very slowly for his normally impatient sibling, but the other foods remained merely rearranged.

After that, the three of them had taken a quick carriage tour of the area around the Institute, the livery where Johnny worked and Scott’s old hang outs. Teresa chatted gaily and sat as close to Scott as she could, seeming to relish their togetherness. They ended the tour by dropping Teresa off at the Llewellyn’s for the night.

For some reason, Scott hadn’t expected Sarah to be blind. He marveled at her grace and coordination. Scott took careful note of the house and how plain the decorations were. Figuring some of the items – like the pictures and quilts hanging on the walls - were meant to put sighted visitors at ease, Teresa had corrected that notion by informing him that wall hangings softened reflected noise. That’s when Scott realized he had a lot to learn about what it meant to be living blind.

With a hug and a promise to come by first thing in the morning, Scott and Johnny departed to take Scott back to his grandfather’s house. Finally alone with his brother, Scott found he didn’t know what to say. He decided to start with the obvious and see where it went.

“So, did you bring any of your own clothes?” he asked lightly.

Johnny sat in the coach across from Scott, resting both hands on top of the upright cane in front of him. The shaded glasses looked even darker inside the coach. “They’re in the trunk in my room.” Johnny answered slowly.

Scott was not entirely satisfied with that answer; he really wanted to know why they were put away and unworn. “I’m surprised you aren’t wearing your gun belt.” He knew he’d hit a sore spot when his brother started to fidget and dropped his chin.

“Yeah. Me too.” So soft was the statement, it was nearly lost in the ambient noise of the coach. Scott took a breath to make yet another pointed statement when Johnny spoke up again, still studying his lap. “Look, Scott. I know you have questions, but I’m asking you to trust me. Wait until tomorrow, after I’ve shown you what I can do and how much I’ve learned. I’m different, I know – Dios, I know that all too well . . .” he rubbed his healing thigh with the palm of one hand and Scott recalled feeling a little guilty. “Everything’s different. You’ll see that tomorrow. Just wait until then and I’ll answer your questions. Okay?” Johnny lifted his chin, and even with the dark glasses Scott could see the determined set of his brother’s features.

Leaning over and giving Johnny’s hand a reassuring squeeze, Scott had replied. “Okay. No more questions today. Can I ask if your leg bothers you a lot?”

Obvious relief relaxed Johnny’s expression. “Yeah, it does. I think it’s the cold, but it’s getting better.”

“Good.” Scott had stated. “Then the sooner we get back to Lancer, the better!”

That’s when they’d arrived at Garrett’s. Thinking back to that moment, Scott realized that Johnny had never mentioned the ranch, or asked any questions about it or Barranca all during their tour. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. It would be difficult to keep his promise about not asking questions, but he would do it just the same.

He resolved to keep his promise as he finished dressing for the new day. Scott jogged down the stairs and strode into the dining room, lured in by the smell of coffee. He was pleased at how much better he felt after a good night’s sleep.

“Ah, Scotty! Finally up, I see! You must have needed the rest.” Harlan came into the room from the direction of the den and stopped next to his grandson. He put his hand on Scott’s shoulder and directed him to a chair. “Sit! Phillips has a good breakfast all ready for us. I decided to wait for you.”

“Good morning, grandfather.” Scott sat in the offered chair, and within seconds, a steaming cup of dark brew was placed in front of him. “I did sleep well, thank you.” He took a careful sip as the older man sat. Phillips returned instantly with the first part of their meal and the day began with Harlan filling in his only heir on the status of Garrett Enterprises.

Johnny awoke according to some internal clock that had grown to be very accurate in the past month, and swung his legs over the side of his bed. Quiet permeated the Institute this time of day, and Johnny took a few seconds to appreciate it. Living among so many people and city living in general had made the rare quiet moments something to relish.

The constant dull ache in his thigh was hardly noticeable this morning as Johnny quickly dressed. That done, he just as quickly made his bed. That simple act set his thoughts in the direction of how he’d changed; more exact, how Madrid was gone and replaced by someone new. It hadn’t been easy. In fact, it was still a struggle. But after today, after he’d convinced his brother that this new person he’d become was better off here, he hoped that would be the end of it. That Teresa and Scott would leave, taking the last reminders of his old life with them.

Passing through the kitchen Johnny tried to get away with snagging a fresh biscuit and slipping out the back door, but he was summarily redirected to a seat at the counter by Josephine. Josie, as she liked to be called, was shorter than Johnny but at least twice his width and he didn’t have a chance at slipping from her grip. She had a low, infectious laugh and a no-nonsense way of running her kitchen. Josie reminded Johnny a whole lot of Maria.

“You need more than a biscuit, young man. I was expecting you.” A clink of china on the counter in front of him brought the smell of bacon and was soon followed by the rich aroma of coffee. Josie had figured out quickly that this particular young man wasn’t accustomed to the normal, light fare of an east coast breakfast. Within minutes, eggs, thick toast laden with butter and a slice of ham lined up in front of him.

Johnny thought he was too nervous to eat, but found he had an appetite after all.

“Mr. Searles will probably have my head for feeding you in here instead of the dining room,” Josie clucked as she returned to her work.

“Ah, Josie, you can handle him just fine. Keep feedin’ me like this, though, and none of my new clothes are gonna fit.” Johnny dug into the eggs using the bread to guide them onto his fork. Eating by feel had proved to be a lot more difficult than learning to shoot had ever been.

“I certainly hope so! I don’t know how you’re going to survive the winter here as skinny as you are. You do have your gloves, don’t you?” she clucked. Scraping sounds drew a mental picture of the woman stirring a big pot.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Really.” Johnny finished up his meal first to the sound of Josie chuckling, then to her melodious humming as she worked. It made her easy to find in the growing bustle of the room, and Johnny gave her shoulder a quick squeeze of thanks as he left.

Icy air bit his exposed face when he stepped outside, and he paused to pull on his gloves. At the same time, he listened carefully. The quiet told him it was still dark. Noise increased with daylight as the city woke up. The occasional clatter of hooves on cobblestone as deliverymen made their stops was all that could be heard at the moment, and Johnny headed to the livery where his brother would meet him after the cabs were assigned and released.

His morning walk, now very familiar to him, was a time where he could have time by himself. In his mind, he tried to imagine he was in Teresa’s garden, or on the boardwalk of Morro Coyo in front of the saloon he and Scott liked to frequent, but he couldn’t trick himself that way. His feet and cane echoed on the hard city surfaces and any comparison to Lancer was lost. By the time he arrived at the livery, his mind was fully on work. It had to be, or the Madrid in him would make itself known.

Harry arrived shortly after him, already falling into somewhat of a routine after three days together. The pair of them inspected the horses, tack and coaches, one visually one and by touch. It was a daily ritual that both men had come to enjoy and the rest of the workers had come to respect in the short period of time. They weren’t used to someone actually being there before a problem occurred. Edwins had always arrived late in the morning, grumpily logged who had taken what, and more often than not either drank in the office or disappeared for hours, arriving just in time to collect the business’ share of the fares before calling it a day. Johnny’s more careful attention had allowed earlier release of the cabs and more fares, resulting in more income and the promise of another horse or two to rent if it kept up.

The private boarders also commented on the improved quality of their horse’s coats and feet. Diamante had even come by in person to voice his approval.

The only person Johnny wanted to impress was his brother. He had to make Scott see that he was fine. The whole idea of having to prove himself to anyone made him grind his teeth in annoyance, but he knew it was necessary. Johnny wondered if Murdoch would have been the easier one to convince. At the thought of his father, Johnny’s heart skipped. To keep his thoughts from his former home, he turned back to his work.

Deciding to walk to the livery stable ended up being a good idea, Scott surmised. He'd listened to his grandfather's chatter politely and with vague interest, but his thoughts were on his brother. Finally, after Scott decided he'd played his dutiful grandson card to the hilt, he prepared to leave.

"Meet me for dinner at Antonio's, 5:00, and we'll walk from my office."

"I don't know what Johnny's plans are . . ."

"All I'm asking is for you to spend some time with me. I'm also interested to see what you think of Johnny's progress."

That comment made Scott remember the thoughts that crossed his mind yesterday about Harlan's apparent interest in Johnny's well being, but he decided to hold his tongue and curiosity until later. He agreed to meet for dinner.

Walking had cleared his mind and gave him some time to again appreciate the brilliant display of changing leaves that Boston offered and California lacked. A tight smile followed when he realized what followed - a bitter winter that he wouldn't miss for a second.

By the time he got to the stable he was relaxed and ready to see what Johnny was so anxious to show him. Something about the earnest request by his brother to see what he'd learned struck Scott wrong from the beginning.. He knew Johnny pretty well, and was sure there was something he wasn't saying. Was the blindness permanent after all and he wanted to waylay any pity? Was he trying to usurp any guilt he thought his family may be harboring about his condition? Whatever it was, Scott was going to make it clear that everything was all right. He wanted a relaxed, enjoyable ride back to California, not one filled with the tension of unspoken fears. Lord knows, he was ready for some relaxation.

The Easton Street Livery and Stables wasn't hard to find. Scott remembered the place from his childhood when his Grandfather used to board a carriage horse there. Chuckling, he walked through the yard area and realized that the place was smaller than he recalled; then again, he had been much smaller, then, too!

He stopped in the center of the yard and caught the scent of fresh straw beckoning him to the dry coziness of the barn. As he walked toward it, he saw the side corral hosted the jumpy Roca from yesterday. A young boy was in the process of haltering the mare, speaking softly to her as he did so. Just inside the barn he immediately spotted the familiar form of his brother as he slipped into a stall. Scott ambled in that direction and noted that the first several stalls were empty.

Soft Spanish made his heart surge and realize just how much he'd missed his brother. In his mind's eye he saw Johnny speaking just like that as he brushed his cantankerous palomino. Scott felt a tiny stab of guilt for not paying any attention to the horse in his brother's absence, but he knew the two would be reunited soon.

Scott recognized Murdoch's worn cane propped against the wall as he leaned on the top of the stall door. Johnny was running his hand over a fuzzy bay. The horse's ears flickered, and the long head turned in Scott's direction. Johnny's voice faltered and Scott realized he'd better announce himself.

"Hey, brother. Who's your friend?"

Johnny's shoulders visibly relaxed a little as he turned his attention back to the horse. "It's one of my boss's horses. Seems to have a bit of a tendon problem." He began speaking low Spanish again and the horse turned away from Scott and resumed a relaxed position, ears angled toward the soft cadence. Johnny ran his long fingers down a front leg for a moment, then stood and affectionately patted the bay's shoulder. "Feels good. Another day or two and he can be back in cab rotation."

"Is that why the stalls are empty? Those are the cab horses?"

"Yeah. The rest of 'em are boarders. So, brother, how's old Harlan?"

Johnny checked the horse's water and made his way to the stall door. Scott opened it for him and gave a brief overview of how his morning went. Johnny laughed lowly and gathered his cane from beside the door.

"You know grandfather. Boston is the center of the world. So tell me, what are you in charge of here? Doctoring?" Scott watched Johnny closely as he spoke. It was very clear that his brother knew this barn very well. Before answering, one of the workers conferred briefly with Johnny before scurrying off to complete a chore.

"Well, Boston,” Johnny’s grin at the blatant use of the nickname made Scott chuckle in return as his little brother continued. “I’m a little more involved than that. Actually, I'm the manager."

Surprised, Scott stopped, speechless. Johnny took a couple of steps before realizing he wasn't being followed, and also stopped. He twisted around.

"The manager?" Scott said in what he hoped was a light tone. "You handle everything?"

"Yeah, I do." The sound of a horse coming in the back door caught Johnny's attention. The nervous Roca had entered the stable with an equally nervous stable boy - the jittery tone of the boy's voice made his fear of the horse obvious. Johnny stepped back out of the aisle and addressed the pair. "Simon, relax. She's feelin' your nervousness." The mare's feet made an uneven pace that was loud in the hard dirt of the barn aisle.

"Yessir," Simon replied. He took a breath and Scott saw the boy’s frame relax a little. Roca mirrored the relaxation after a few seconds, her pace becoming more even.

"That's right," Johnny crooned as they passed by. "She's just a little sensitive, that's all. There ain't a mean bone in that mare's body."

"Yessir," Simon repeated. "I know. I'll get over it." By the time the mare was secured to a tie ring at the front of the barn, she was in a much better frame of mind.

"'Get over it'?" Scott whispered as he caught up to his brother.

Johnny grinned. "Yeah. She bolted last week and dragged the kid halfway down the street."

"He didn't just let go of the rope?" Scott asked quietly.

"Nope. Didn't want her to get away and get hurt. He's a good kid." Johnny turned and started moving down the aisle again. "They're doin' fine now."

Scott wondered how hard it was for his brother not to simply step in and take over handling the nervous mare. Johnny wasn't much for telling as doing; was this something else that had changed in addition to his clothes? Falling in behind his brother, Scott again noted how plain his brother looked. And those glasses. . . he wasn't sure he could ever get used to those.

"So, you seemed to have made some kind of impression on the owner. How did you manage that?"

Johnny told the story of meeting Harry, and how that led to the introduction to Diamante, and how Johnny had listed the problems with the stable after being there less than an hour. "You know, I was my normal and convincing self," he finished with a grin.

"Worked the old Lancer charm, huh? So, who's going to take over when you come home?"

Scott noted the split second of hesitation and the slight slip of the smile before Johnny answered.

"I have a partner," Johnny said slowly. "Come on, I have some things to do in the office, then we'll go to the Institute and see Teresa."

The quick change of subject only added to Scott's feeling that something wasn't right. Swallowing any more questions, Scott made himself recall his promise to Johnny and keep quiet. It wasn't going to be easy.

The rest of the day moved quickly and drove home to Scott how independent Johnny really was. He knew Murdoch would be just as pleased as he was; the few times the subject of the future came up on the cattle drive, neither of them imagined such improvement.

The stable office was orderly and neat, reminding Scott strongly of Murdoch's desk at Lancer. Something relating to paperwork and neatness must have sunk in after all, he thought humorously. Scott met Harry and liked him immediately. Johnny left the stable in his partner's hands when they left for lunch at the Institute.

Teresa greeted them and seemed to have a problem letting go of them. Everywhere they went during the tour of the building, her hand was either on Scott or Johnny's arm, or both. She was obviously thrilled at having the brothers together again. She happily pointed out all the inspirations for change at Lancer. Scott couldn't help but wonder how Murdoch would take the changes, but knew he'd let his ward do what she wanted.

Scott not only sat in on some of the Braille classes, he helped instruct, following Teresa's lead. Johnny had learned enough to help out in some of the classes, too, but Scott didn't think he looked as comfortable as Teresa. What Johnny did best was work with some of the younger children. Scott couldn't tell what, exactly, his brother was teaching them, but the small group giggled a lot while Johnny seemed content and involved.

What Scott found most amazing was how Johnny greeted everyone. He knew who they were before they spoke half the time, and that wasn't only in the Institute. When they took a small group out for a walk, Johnny greeted most of the shopkeepers near the Institute. That smile still worked every time, Scott realized as he shook his head at the audacity of some of his brother's comments that accompanied the smile.

Scott met Dr. Boyer briefly when he stopped by to drop off some medicine. As he shook Scott's hand, Scott noticed the kindness of the man's face. Wanting to speak to the doctor about Johnny's eyes, Scott asked for a meeting. The doctor glanced toward Johnny, then back and Scott knew what he was going to hear. "You'll have to speak to your brother, Mr. Lancer. I can't speak about him without his permission. But if you manage to get him to agree, I'll be here tomorrow most of the day."

Scott nodded and said he understood.

By late afternoon, Scott had to admit that Johnny had done well during his short time in Boston and fit in better than he'd ever imagined he would. If he's fine here, then Lancer will be a snap, he thought with satisfaction. He wondered if that was the point of this show-and-tell. Knowing Dr. Boyer's diagnosis, had Johnny wanted to make it crystal clear what his limits were before he came home? Did he want to make sure there would be no pity? Whatever the reason, Scott knew Johnny's point had been made. Clearly. His brother was fine.

With the last of the classes finished, Johnny said he had to get back to the livery and finish out the day. Teresa walked with them, chatting gaily. At the entry gate to the stable, Johnny flagged down Harry's returning cab to take Scott to Garrett's office.

"I'll see you in the morning, Johnny," Scott promised. "Our train leaves in two days so we can hopefully beat the snow."

"And be at Lancer for Thanksgiving!" Teresa said excitedly. "I have a lot to do, and I can't wait. I wonder if Jelly's fattened up a turkey for us?"

"There's always Dewdrop," Scott teased, cowering at Teresa's swat.

Johnny just stood and smiled. Scott playfully patted Johnny's cheek. "And you need to start packing, little brother. I'll see you two tomorrow."

Teresa walked him to the cab. "Have a nice dinner with Harlan," she said, trying to sound serious but failing to hide her smirk.

"I'm sure I will, thank you very much," he said with pretend indignation, and then pecked her on the forehead before stepping in the cab and being whisked away.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Johnny knew it was time to tell Teresa and Scott that he wouldn't be returning to Lancer. He heard Teresa saying her farewell to his brother as he turned and sauntered toward the barn. He knew this barn well - all the smells, noises and certainly the stall occupants - and it wasn't so hard to think of this place as his home now. He heard light footfall signaling Teresa's return, and then her familiar lavender smell told him when she was close. When she stopped next to him, Johnny offered his arm and asked her to come with him.

"We should be getting back to the Institute, Johnny, it's getting late." She took his elbow and he led her outside and toward the small building he would be calling his own soon. "It's cold out here!" she said lightly, snuggling in closer. "Did you leave something in the office?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, stepping onto the small porch and pushing the door open. A trace of warmth trickled out from the inside from the struggling fire in the stove. They quickly stepped in and shut the door. "Sit down for a minute, querida. I'll get the fire going again."

"Johnny, we really should be going . . ." The statement was heavy with unspoken questions.

This was the time. Stoking the small stove helped him to order his thoughts. With the fire blazing again, Johnny turned to the young girl but found the words more difficult to find than he expected. He dropped his head and fiddled with a piece of bark that had flaked off the wood in the fire. Seeming to know he wanted to say something important, Teresa waited patiently.

Finally, he said it. "I'm not going back with you and Scott."

Leaving his mouth with apparent ease, the words actually left Johnny's throat feeling as dry as the bark he picked at in his hand. If he ever wanted a second of sight, this was the moment; would Teresa truly understand?

"What do you mean?" she stammered. "Of course you're coming with us!"

"No, honey, I can't. Don't you see. . . "

A rustle of motion brought her directly in front of him. "I don't see, Johnny, and neither will Scott or Murdoch! You need to come home. You've learned so much and doing so well! You'll be fine!" He felt her soft hands on his and realized she was reassuring him; she didn't get his meaning.

Johnny dropped the bark and firmly took her hands in his grip, but was unable to lift his head and feign meeting her eyes. "You don't understand," he started.

"Understand what, Johnny? That you're part of a family? That we all love you and want you home?" Teresa's voice quavered with the last few words and Johnny felt his resolve wobble. Then the smell of gun smoke came to his mind, and he gripped her harder. "Johnny, that hurts!"

"This is my home now!" he blurted, giving the girl a shake. "Here! This place. I can't go back to Lancer. Ever."

"What?" Teresa whispered, shocked. "No! That's not true!"

"Teresa, it's too dangerous. You know that. You saw that. I can't go back." The hard edge he'd hoped for in his voice simply wasn't there and Johnny cursed himself for sounding like he was pleading.

"Dangerous? For who? You?" Now he could tell that she was fighting tears, and he released her with a small shove and turned his back.

"For everyone. Elsom was just a taste of it. I can't risk everyone's life by being there. I can't even protect myself." Johnny wrapped his arms around his chest, trying to feel any measure of warmth from the small stove because, suddenly, he was chilled to the bone. "Don't you see that I would die slowly?" he whispered.

"Johnny," Teresa tried to speak, but was unable to conquer her quiet tears. Instead she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek on his back and letting the tears flow.

He stood straight, not allowing the gesture to sway him. Inside, he felt like a corner had been turned and he was all alone. It was done. Now he had to tell Scott.

There was no point in trying to talk any more. Johnny waited patiently until Teresa stopped crying. By then, the office felt too close. Johnny wrapped her up in her coat, and slipped his on just before taking her hand and leading her to the door. Collecting his cane, he opened the door and they stepped outside. Teresa was mostly quiet, reduced to an occasional sniffle as he led her from the livery to the street.

As they had done almost daily for their weeks here, Johnny and Teresa walked the edge of the city, this time in silence. Neither one could find any words. After a while, Johnny felt a tickle on his cheek.

"It's snowing," he said.

"Just a flurry," Teresa whispered. "It will be over in a minute." She hugged his arm more tightly.

"You need to get inside." Johnny stopped and listened carefully to the passing traffic. A man called - one of his drivers - and Johnny waved the cab to a stop.

Before mounting the step into the coach, Teresa took Johnny's hand. "Johnny, I . . ."

He quieted her with a small smile and a hand on her cheek. "I'll be fine, querida," he said. "I want to walk."

"Okay," Teresa replied. She sounded lost and defeated, and Johnny bit his lip. Then, after a moment, he heard her settle into the cab, sniffling.

He told the driver to take her to the Institute then turned back to the young woman. "I'll be along in awhile." Johnny could only imagine her nodding mutely, unable to speak. The driver clucked, and the coach pulled away. Johnny stood for a moment, hearing the noise of the wheels on cobblestone recede among the other noises of the city.

Deciding to retreat for awhile, Johnny returned to the livery and finished his duties checking in the cabs and horses, and checking out a pair of evening cabbies. He and Harry counted the receipts, locked them away, and shut down for the night. His partner bid him goodnight. Johnny was fully aware of how quiet he’d been and knew Harry was curious – the tone of his voice gave that away and Johnny smiled sadly to himself. As a blind man, he’d come to realize how clear unspoken words could be.

He still felt unsatisfied. Johnny paused on the sidewalk in front of the livery to collect his thoughts. Positioning his cane to take some pressure off his leg, Johnny reflected on what he had said to Teresa.

Home. He knew Lancer would always be home in his heart and he could never return. He felt the need for moral reinforcement before speaking to Scott and decided to seek out Sarah and Colin. Not one to talk out his problems, Johnny just needed to hear the two of them together for a little while. They were a rare warm spot in this Godforsaken city, and he needed that warmth as reassurance that he could stay here.

Johnny turned and began to move thorough the crowd using his sharp sense of hearing and his cane, the map to the Llewellyns clear in his head. Letting his mind wander a bit, Johnny noted that his leg wasn't bothering him too much today, and that led to the idea that maybe he was getting used to the cold. That idea made him frown; no matter how well he did here, Johnny knew that deep inside, he hated it here and always would. Every little feeling of comfort or familiarity killed a little more of the Madrid inside him.

Johnny missed the perfume of chaparral and mesquite and sage, longed to feel a hot Santa Ana in his face and breathe dry air. He missed Barranca and Murdoch and Maria. But he also knew this was where Johnny Lancer had to stay if the people he loved were to be safe.

A deep sigh cleansed those thoughts from his mind. Using the sound of the crowds and the feel of the ground under his feet, Johnny turned down the street that would lead him to the small house of his new friends. After walking a bit, using smells, sounds and familiar greetings to guide him, he smelled the bread shop and knew he had two blocks to go. He turned the corner.

The smoke smell tickled his nose well before the sound of shouting people and Johnny's instincts sharpened. He walked a little more quickly, keeping a clear vision of where he was in his mind. More voices indicated a growing crowd where there should be quiet streets. He pushed his way through the people, his cane tip telling him exactly where he was. The smell of smoke eventually dominated everything.

"Where are the firemen?" a woman cried. "Those people need help!"

Johnny's heart jumped and he pushed his way to the forefront. The heat of the fire touched his cheeks and the direction it came from made his stomach turn. He grabbed an arm to his right.

"Whose house?" he demanded.

There was a second of hesitation before a man said, "That blind couple . . ."

Johnny pushed himself off the man into the face of the growing inferno.

Scott entered his grandfather's small office feeling a bit out of place and a little stunned from what he had seen in the past day. Harlan Garrett sat behind a large mahogany desk that was as sterile in appearance as Murdoch’s was down to earth. His grandfather motioned Scott to come in and rose to his feet in greeting. The smile on the older man’s face, for some reason, set the fine hairs on the back of Scott’s neck at attention. He stopped just inside the door and slowly closed it behind him trying to pinpoint why he was suddenly on edge.

“Sit down, my boy. Drink?” Harlan’s smile didn’t change any as he approached the sideboard. When Scott nodded shortly, Garrett poured a pair of brandies. “Just acquired this. Imported, you know, and I must say I haven’t tasted anything better. A toast to your brother’s success?”

That’s when it hit the blond Lancer why he was uneasy. As he accepted the crystal glass, he got the clear impression that his grandfather’s smile was of the ‘cat that ate the canary’ type. Scott felt his eyes narrow as he held the drink aloft. “How about to his happiness instead?”

Harlan hesitated, but the smile never faltered. “Of course. To Johnny Lancer’s happiness, then.”

They both took a sip, and the elder Bostonian motioned for his grandson to sit. As Scott did so, Harlan turned to his office window. “Look at that bay. Not a more beautiful sight anywhere, I’d say.”

“That’s debatable, but it is a nice view.” Scott felt himself growing tense. “Nothing beats Lancer to me.”

Harlan turned slowly and settled in the chair behind the elegant desk. The smile was gone, but his eyes were bright. Scott felt a chill, recognizing the look from when his grandfather had secured a particularly lucrative deal. “I’m sorry to hear that. So, you are planning to return to California, then.”

“Yes, of course. With Johnny and Teresa.”

There was a moment of silence as their eyes locked. Scott got the distinct impression that he was being evaluated. Finally, Harlan spoke. “You may want to rethink that, Scotty.”

The younger man felt his heart beat a little faster, as he suddenly felt like prey under a predator’s gaze. “I don’t have to rethink it. That’s why I’m here. To bring Johnny home where he belongs.”

Garrett leaned back in his padded chair, his eyes still on his grandson, the fine brandy put aside on the buffed desk. “My boy, think for a moment. Your brother has found a niche here. He’s busy doing something he’s good at aside from gunfighting – and is safe.”