Teresa's Birthday Presents

Written by Desert Sun - Completed October, 2003

Send Feedback to Desert Sun          Printable Pages:  60          Rating: PG

(Please note: the characters of the Lancer television series do not belong to me and were used without permission. This was written for fun, not profit.)

Summary: Johnny, Scott, and Jelly run into trouble getting home with Teresa's birthday presents in time for her party.

Timing: A little over a year after the series began and a few weeks before the "Warburton's Edge" episode.

This story is dedicated to my great-uncles, William and Willard Hall, who where my grandmother's elder set of twin brothers. The incident in chapter one was inspired by a real-life experience of theirs.

Chapter 1 - Uninvited Visitor

"Scott! Get 'im off me, will yuh?"

"What's the matter, Little Brother? Surely you're not afraid. You, the famous Johnny Madrid, frightened of a little old snake. What would people say?"

The wicked laugh was infuriating, but Johnny knew he didn't dare move. He had seen what the venom of a rattlesnake could do. It wasn't pretty. The terrible pain, vomiting accompanied by an unquenchable thirst, and paralysis had started within a few minutes. The worst part, though, had been the helplessness that he had felt as he watched the swelling gradually spread from the man's jaw to his throat and the violent spasms that had wracked his body shortly before the last breath was taken. It had been a horrible way to die--far worse than hanging in Johnny's opinion. The only blessing had been that the man hadn't lived long enough to choke to death, but still the ordeal had lasted for several hours.

"Come on, Brother. This ain't funny. He's li'ble to strike at any moment," Johnny pleaded, shuddering at the thought of what a bite to his neck would mean especially if the snake's long fangs were to sink into his jugular vein. There would be no hope of survival. Even if he could hold out for a couple hours, they would never make it to a doctor in time.

"You're tough," came his brother's cryptic response. "Isn't that what you're always telling me? If that is true, then you have nothing to worry about. His fangs couldn't begin to penetrate that thick skin of yours."

Deep blue eyes shot fiery darts at smoky-blue ones, but failed to kill the devilish glint of amusement. Johnny could clearly see that his Boston raised half-brother wasn't about to take pity on him. Scott was having way too much fun at his expense.

Fat coils of greenish-brown snakeskin with uniform black diamonds along most of its length tickled the hair on Johnny's chest. His flesh crawled and his mind screamed for him to execute his own escape as he looked into the red bulging eyes that were a mere spread of his hand away from his face. He held his breath a moment and willed himself to remain quiet. The risk was too great. There was nothing he could do but hope that either his brother would take pity on him or the snake would decide to leave of its own accord.

The rattlesnake tensed and the end of its upright tail waved like a flag flapping in a windstorm. The sound, reminiscent of the gourds that Johnny had shaken as a child in a Mexican border town, sent tingling chills crawling up and down his spine and all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. "Scott!" he hoarsely exclaimed upon seeing the twig in his brother's hand. "Whatcha doin'?".

Scott smiled, and with a wicked gleam in his eyes that belied the innocent tone of his voice, replied, "You said you wanted the snake off of you. I thought perhaps a little encouragement would make it decide to go elsewhere."

"Well, stop pokin' at it. You're makin' him mad," Johnny snapped while wondering how his college educated older brother could be so dumb at times.

"All right," Scott said with a shrug of his shoulders. "You're the expert. Only you do realize that if you lay there much longer, we're not going to make it home by dinner tonight. Murdoch gave us strict orders not to be late for Teresa's birthday party . . . or have you forgotten about that?"

"I ain't forgotten nothin', but I would like to get back to Lancer alive . . . if yuh don't mind," Johnny caustically replied. "Besides, yuh don't wanna have tuh toke my body in drapped over the saddle, do yuh? That wouldn't be much of a present for Teresa's seventeenth birthday, now would it?"

"Oh, I don't know," Scott flung back with a soft chuckle. "She might like it . . . provided I could have you skinned and stuffed like that elk head that we saw over the bar at Cutter's Crossing. You'd be a lot easier to keep track of, and she would have considerable more free time since she would only have to do half the cooking that she does now."

"Yuh sayin' I eat too much?" Johnny queried, his temper flaring.

"If the shoe fits, wear it, my great-grandfather always said."

"Well, just 'cause you don't eat more'n enough to keep a bird alive ain't no reason for yuh to be callin' me a pig," retorted Johnny.

The increased volume of Johnny's voice upset the snake once more. Moving closer to its host's handsome face, the rattler opened its mouth wide to expose two sharp curved needles then hissed softly.

Johnny began to sweat. Soon rivulets of moisture, which dampened the strands of dark hair that lay against his forehead, were dripping down his tanned cheeks. Fear restricted his throat, and he gulped painfully as a tremor ran through his legs. Johnny Lancer, formerly known as Johnny Madrid, a gunfighter who had calmly stared death in the face on more than one occasion, had finally met his match. Never in his life had he been so terrified. "S-Scott," he whispered. "D-do s-somethin'."

"What?"

"Sha-shoot it."

"Shoot it? And just how am I supposed to do that?" asked Scott, his voice reflecting that he found the idea preposterous.

Johnny took in a shallow breath and fought to keep his voice steady. Despite his efforts, there was still a slight tremble as he slowly spoke. "J-just point yer g-gun at its head and d-draw a couple little s-circles. The s-snake'll f-follow the end of the b-barrel. As s-soon's yuh st-stop, pull the t-trigger."

"But what if I miss?" inquired the sandy haired man at his side.

Teeth chattering, Johnny replied, "Yuh c-can't. The rattler w-won't let yuh. If yuh d-do like I t-told yuh, he'll l-line his h-head up and g-give yuh a perfect sh-shot."

"Well . . . if that is what you want me to do, far be it from me to argue with you. I am sure that you have had more experience killing snakes than I have," Scott conceded, drawing up his shoulders until they nearly touched his earlobes and then letting them drop resignedly into a relaxed position. Rising to his feet, he pulled a long-barreled revolver from the holster that was strapped around his waist. Leaning forward with arm outstretched to hold the gun closer to the rattlesnake's head, he slowly began rotating his wrist.

Anxiously, Johnny watched as the snake's eyes traveled the same circular path as the end of the gun-barrel. Just a little more, Scott, he silently instructed. That's it. Yuh got his attention. There yuh go. All yuh gotta do is stop and fire.

Scott's hand ceased its motion and the hammer of the pistol clicked as he cocked it. Suddenly, Johnny realized that the rattler was not the only thing in the path of the bullet. His own eye was also looking down the barrel of the gun. "No!" he screamed as the gun exploded.

~~~~~

Leisurely, Scott Lancer stretched and yawned, then ran long fingers through his dark-blond hair. He supposed he should be getting up since he had heard the clatter of pans. It wasn't fair to let Jelly do all of the work. A couple of more minutes won't hurt, though, he reasoned as he continued to lie wrapped in his bedroll on the hard ground.

Hearing a strange buzzing sound next him, he rolled to his left side and glanced at the angelic face of his brother less than an arm's length away. Johnny looked so peaceful sleeping on his back with his head tipped to one side, lips slightly parted with the corners curving upward into a gentle smile and eyes closed in slumber. Scott couldn't help thinking that from the look of his brother at that moment, one would never believe that he had once been the notorious gunfighter, Johnny Madrid.

Suddenly, Scott's eyes widened and his heart took a wild jump before pounding fiercely against his ribcage. Whatever you do, Johnny, please don't move. his mind cried out to his sleeping brother then fearfully wondered what to do about the rattlesnake that had apparently decided to take advantage of the warmth radiating from Johnny's bare chest. Having lived in California for little more than a year, Scott's experience with snakes was limited, and he didn't have the slightest clue of how to protect his brother from this unexpected threat.

Dark eyelashes fluttered, and then a gasp came from parted lips as deep-blue eyes widened in horror. "Don't move, Johnny," Scott instructed upon seeing that his brother had awakened.

"Don't intend to," Johnny whispered with minimal movement of his mouth.

Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, Scott contemplated on what his wisest course of action might be. He considered calling to Jelly Hoskins, a short gray-bearded man, who was approaching the camp from the direction of a nearby stream with a bucket in one hand. This idea, however, was quickly rejected because he feared that the loudness of his voice might cause the snake to bite Johnny.

Upon glancing around for some alternative way to save his brother, Scott noticed a small dry limb lying within reach near their heads. A new plan formed in his mind. He would give the serpent a little encouragement to crawl away. All I have to do is prod him until he becomes irritated enough to leave. If he should decide to strike, he'll go after the stick, not Johnny, he told himself.

"Whatcha gunna do with that?" gasped Johnny as Scott pulled the stick into view.

"Sh!" Scott admonished as he raised up on one elbow and extended the end of the twig toward the rattlesnake's tail. "I have a plan. Now just lie very still."

"Hey! Quit that. Yuh're gunna make him mad," Johnny demanded when the serpent, tail rattling loudly, struck at the piece of dry branch and missed Scott's fingers by little more than an inch.

The stick fell to the ground between the two young men as Scott jerked back his trembling hand before scooting backward out of reach and sinking down on his side. He drew in a ragged breath--lungs screaming at the invisible rope that seemed to be tightly tied around his upper body. That was close. Too close, he scolded himself soundlessly while trying to calm his jangled nerves.

In an unmistakable display of displeasure, the serpent vibrated the interlocking links forming the end of its tail. With jaws spread wide and tongue fluttering, the snake then bobbed its head while searching for the source of torment before focussing once more on Johnny's face.

I have to do something, Scott thought in desperation, although he had no idea of what that something should be.

"Sh-shoot it."

"What!" Scott exclaimed in answer to his brother's whispered command.

"Shoot it!" Johnny commanded hoarsely.

"How?"

"Like Jelly was tellin' us last night. Remember?" Johnny pleaded.

Scott remembered all right. How could he not? Jelly Hoskins, the hired man who was more like a member of the family than an employee, had been very insistent in his claims that a snake could be mesmerized into looking down the barrel of a gun--any gun. The question was would it work?

"Hurry, will yuh?"

Johnny's plaintive voice was the deciding factor. Something had to been done soon and Scott knew it. Jelly, this had better work, he thought.

With a sigh of resignation, Scott reached for the holstered gun that he had lain next to his saddle before retiring the night before. He pulled it free, then cautiously rose to his knees, gripped the curved handle with both hands, and stretched his arms out in front of him in order to get the end of the barrel closer to the rattlesnake's head.

Slowly scribing small circles with hands that were trembling so badly that the revolver moved through the cool morning air in a jagged path, Scott put Jelly's claim to the test. As the magnitude of what he had to do gripped him, his palms began to sweat. His first bullet had to find its mark. A second attempt might prove too late to save his brother from the deadly poison of the snake's venom.

"Stop worrin' about missin' and just do it, Scott," Johnny ordered as though he could look inside his brother's mind and read his every thought.

The eyes of the rattlesnake aligned with the bore of the pistol just like Jelly had insisted they would, and the serpent's flat head rotated along the same path as the barrel of the gun. You can do it, Scott assured himself then mentally stated each step as he executed it. You have his attention; now just another circle or two. Take a deep breath. Stop and . . . fire.

"No!" Scott cried, having realized his mistake too late to halt or change the flight of the bullet, and then with ears ringing from the deafening blast of the pistol, he sank to the ground in anguish.

~~~~~

The air, unusually cool for a late-June morning, sent a shiver through Jelly Hoskins as he tossed his blanket aside and sat up. He quickly shoved his feet into his boots then stood, reached for his jacket, and slipped it on while hurrying over to the campfire that had nearly died out during the night. "Don't know why I always gotta do the cookin'," he muttered as he stirred the flickering coals. "Those two could at least a got up an stoked the fire . . . but no, they'd rather let an old man do all the work so's they can catch another couple winks of shut-eye."

Still grumbling under his breath, the middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed graying beard picked up some of the dry sticks that were piled close by and carefully arranged them on the faintly glowing embers, which he then fanned with his hat until the newly added wood burst into flames. Once the fire was going well, he filled a pot with water, threw in a heaping handful of coffee grounds, and set it to heat on a rock that was inside one edge of the fire ring.

While the coffee brewed, Jelly went to see about the horses that appeared to have wandered off during the night. Locating them turned out to be more difficult than expected, however. Even with hobbles, they had strayed close to a half-mile up the creek that meandered through the meadow. Upon finding them grazing on a patch of lush grass, he caught his bay mare and the pack-mule, removed their braided rope hobbles, and then lead them back to camp where he tethered them to a tree. The other two horses, he left loose--telling himself that as far as he was concerned, their lazy owners could tend to them. Truthfully, he knew that Johnny's horse, Barranca, would come to a whistle and Scott's sorrel would follow.

The next order of business being breakfast, Jelly took a chunk of salt pork from the grub sack. This he sliced into several thick slabs, which he then drooped over a stick that had been set up to roast a rabbit the night before. While the meat was cooking, he retrieved biscuits, butter, plates, cups, and utensils from his pack.

Every once in a while as he worked, Jelly would glance up and crane his neck to peak over at the two sleeping young men. Side by side, their heads were cradled against the sheepskin linings of their saddles, which were leaning against a log a short distance away from the far side of the campfire. He supposed he ought to be waking them up but thought they looked so serene, lying there like angelic little children, that he hated to disturb them even though he knew it was all an illusion. The sons of Murdoch Lancer were chips off the old block. "Stubborn, hotheaded mules, the whole lot," he groused under his breath.

Despite their fiery tempers, smoldering beneath the surface and ready to erupt--taking little provocation at times--Jelly had a fondness for all three of the Lancer men. In the eight months that he had worked for them, he had come to look on them as his family; however, he would never admit that to any of them. He needed to maintain a certain measure of pride or they might get to taking him for granted.

The fire crackled and popped, and the flames leaped higher as grease dripped from the sizzling pork slices. When Jelly thought the strips of meat looked done enough, he lifted them off the spit with a fork and distributed them equally onto three plates and then, while talking to himself the whole time, poured a small amount of coffee into a cup. "I s'pose it's a good thing I'm doin' the cookin'. Johnny ain't happy 'less he sets yer mouth a fire. Bet he smothers his in pepper first thing. It's a wonder that boy can even taste anythin' after burnin' up his mouth the way he does."

Jelly took a sip of coffee that would have blistered a more sensitive tongue and let out a deep sigh. "Just right, if I do say so myself," he told the drink in his hand. The smile of satisfaction, however, quickly faded into a scowl. "Scott'll complain 'bout it being too strong and scaldin' hot, more'n likely. Beats me how he can stand tuh drink that watered down stuff he calls coffee. Yuh'd think he had tuh make them beans last the rest his life the way he skimps. Well, he can just thin his down all he wants tuh. It'll make that much more fer Johnny an' me."

With breakfast ready to eat, it was time to wake the brothers. Jelly set his cup by one of the plates and walked over to the sleeping men. He smiled down on his young friends--eyes focussed on Scott. "Hate tuh have tuh bother yer beauty sleep, but Murdoch'll have somebody's hide if we're late fer Teresa's party tonight. I sure don't want it to be mine fer lettin' you two dawdle."

Leaning forward to place a hand on Scott's shoulder, Jelly froze as his eyes shifted to Johnny. "Don't nobody move," he whispered, easing back a step. Carefully, he reached for the rifle that was propped against the end of the log where his own bedroll lay in disarray. His fingers, upon touching the smooth barrel, wrapped around it, and he slowly brought the gun to his side, his heart playing a rapid staccato tune against his ribs and his hand trembling.

About then Scott softly moaned and rolled over onto his side so that he was facing his brother. Don'tcha dare wake up now, Jelly silently begged, drawing in a quiet breath then stepping closer and crouching down. He then leaned forward as far as he dared without risking losing his balance, and stretched his arms out until the end of the rifle barrel was practically touching the nose of the coiled rattlesnake that was lying on Johnny's bare chest.

The snake angrily shook its tail in warning. Jelly, fearing that it might strike at any moment, slowly moved the gun in a small circle--his heart madly racing and his palms becoming wet with sweat as he waited for just the right moment to pull the trigger. One chance was all he would have and he knew it. If he missed, Johnny stood a good chance of being bitten in the face or throat, either of which would no doubt prove fatal. The nearest doctor was in Spanish Wells, more than four hours away.

"You jest poke that head up a little higher. That's it, just a little more," Jelly hoarsely instructed the serpent. "Now set yer sights on the end of this here gun and don't yuh dare take yer eyes off it. I got a little present fer yuh."

The reptile's head followed the motion of the rifle barrel as tiny black eyes stared unblinkingly at the end of the gun. Jelly took in a deep breath, held it until his lungs began to protest, and then fired. Too late he realized there was more in the path of the bullet than the head of the snake, but there was nothing he could do about it. The damage was done.

Chapter 2 - Dangerous Encounters

Scott Lancer awoke with a start, his ears ringing from the loud bark of a gun fired in close proximity to his head. As he bolted upright into a sitting position--upper body colliding with something firm that crumpled and fell away from him--he opened his eyes to see terror written on his brother's face less than two feet in front of him. "Johnny! What happened?" he anxiously asked.

"Scott! I'm hit!" Johnny's voice was permeated with fear as he lay with his hands pressed against his throat.

"Where?" Scott demanded, his blanket thrown aside as he lunged forward to kneel at his brother's side.

"My neck," blurted Johnny, his eyes large with fright.

"Let me look," Scott commanded while leaning closer.

"Shoulda done that before yuh pulled the trigger," Johnny retorted while refusing to move his hands.

Scott gasped at the accusation. "I . . . I'm sorry. I . . . I was so intent on killing the snake," he stammered, then wondered why he wasn't still holding a smoking revolver. Must have dropped it when I woke up, his mind reasoned.

"Is it . . . bleeding bad?" Johnny asked, his voice quavering.

"No . . . I don't see any blood," Scott slowly replied, eyebrows puckered.

"It get him?"

Scott jumped, startled by the hand that touched his shoulder and the sound of a voice so near his ear. "Jelly," he gasped, air rushing from his lungs. He took a couple breaths and willed his heart to slow its desperate pounding. "What's the idea of sneaking up on me like that?" he sharply reproved the older man.

"I wasn't sneakin'," Jelly blustered. "You jest weren't lookin'. Ain't no never mind anyhow." He moved around to Scott's left and knelt down near Johnny's head. "Let me have a look," he ordered.

"How bad is it?" Johnny shakily asked when his hands had been pried from his neck by Jelly's strong fingers.

The whiskered man snorted in disgust. "Ain't nothin' there but a little red mark where that rattler's tail must a swatted yuh. Looks like you'll live . . . which, by the way, yuh got me tuh thank for."

"Rattler?" Scott stared over at Jelly while struggling to separate dream from reality in his mind.

"That's what I said. It was sittin' perty as yuh please . . . right there." Jelly tapped the fingertips of one hand against Johnny's breastbone, then added, "Biggest ol' diamond back yuh ever saw in yer life."

"Did Scott kill him?" Johnny asked, his eyes darting around.

"Scott! Now whatever gave yuh that idea? He ain't been awake no longer'n you have." There was a decided ring of indignation to Jelly's voice. He puffed out his chest, thumping it with his thumb as he added, "I'm the one that shot it, I'll have yuh know."

"You shot it?" Johnny and Scott spoke in unison.

"Yes, me . . . and it was a lucky thing I come over here tuh drag you two out a bed, too. That rattler was fixin' tuh have Johnny for breakfast."

"How did you do it without hitting Johnny?" Scott inquired, finding it hard, after the dream he had just had, to believe the older man's tale.

"I'd like to hear how yuh done it too, Jelly," spoke up Johnny, his voice a little steadier than before.

"Done it jest like I told yuh last night," proudly crowed Jelly. "I put the end of my rifle right smack in front of his face and moved it around until he was looking down the barrel then pulled the trigger. 'Course I was squatted down some so's the bullet wouldn't hit yuh . . . only . . .."

"Only what?" Scott asked apprehensively when Jelly failed to continue.

Jelly rose to his feet and avoided meeting the eyes of either of the brothers.

"What, Jelly?" Johnny coaxed. "Yuh just said yuh shot it, so yuh can't be worrin' about tellin' us yuh missed. So what don't yuh wanna say?"

"I . . . I think I hit Teresa's presents. I didn't mean to. I just forgot all about 'em bein' over there," replied Jelly, pointing at the package that was lying on the ground a short distance beyond Johnny. "I was plumb scared to death that rattler was gunna getcha that all I could think about was gettin' it before it got you. I didn't even think about them presents 'til I pulled the trigger."

"All right, Jelly, that's carryin' things a bit too far," said Johnny as he sat up. "Now that you've had your fun, why don't yuh tell us the truth. There wasn't any rattlesnake, and yuh just fired off that rifle to wake us up. This whole thing's been a joke, ain't that right?"

"Ain't no joke, Johnny."

"Yeah? Well, I don't see no snake," Johnny sarcastically replied.

"That's 'cause it went flyin' to who knows where when I shot it," Jelly retorted.

"It couldn't have gone too overly far," Scott said as he reached for one of his boots. "If there really was a snake, we should be able to find it."

"Yeah, and if yuh ruined Teresa's gifts just to play some dumb trick, you'll be the one who tells her, too," Johnny added.

When Jelly huffed loudly, Scott stifled a laugh and added a rebuke of his own. "That's right, Jelly, and I do hope you can come up with a better explanation than the one you just gave us. Teresa would never buy it and you know it."

Jelly's face reddened. "No more gratitude'n I'm gettin' fer savin' a certain somebody's life, I should a let that rattler bite him . . . then the two a yuh wouldn't think it was so funny. Well, just tuh prove how wrong yuh both are, I'm gunna find that snake and feed it to yuh for breakfast," he groused while glaring first at Johnny and then Scott before turning to step over the log behind him.

Scott watched Jelly stride away and begin searching the area on the other side of Johnny. "You don't suppose he really was telling the truth?" he asked, looking questioningly at his brother. Although it didn't seem possible that his dream and reality could have been so similar, he couldn't help wondering why Jelly had been so adamant about having told the truth. Also, he found it difficult to believe that the man would go to all the trouble of looking around for a snake that didn't exist just to prolong a hoax.

Frowning, Johnny spoke in a slow thoughtful tone. "I don't know. I . . . I dreamt there was a rattlesnake on me. It was so real that . . . when I first woke up, I actually believed you'd shot me."

Scott paused in the middle of putting on his other boot and stared unbelievingly at his brother "You dreamed that, too?"

"Don't tell me. You had the same dream," Johnny smirked.

"Yes, I did. I woke up just as I shot it . . . only . . .."

"I know . . . yuh shot me, right?" Johnny's eyes reflected the absurdity of the idea.

With raised eyebrow, Scott scrutinized his brother. "How did you know that?"

"Just a lucky guess."

"No it wasn't. You had the same dream, didn't you? That's why you said that I shot you."

"You don't suppose . . .." Johnny left the thought unfinished as he looked toward the bearded man, who was walking bent at the waist and head down while gradually making a larger arc a short ways away.

"Could be. It doesn't seem reasonable that we'd both have the same kind of dream at the same time unless something triggered it," Scott said while tugging his boot the rest of the way on. He rose part way to stand stooped over with his hands still holding the top edge of his boot and stamped his foot to get his heel to settle all the way in. Letting out a deep sigh, he straightened the rest of the way up and said, "Well, I guess there's only one way to know for sure--"

"Find that snake!" Johnny's voice blended with Scott's as they finished the thought in unison.

"Then let's get at it," ordered Scott. "We have a birthday party to get home to."

"Right with yuh," replied Johnny, quickly grabbing up his own boots and tugging them on.

A couple of minutes later as the two brothers joined in the search for the elusive rattlesnake, Jelly gave them each a scowl and grumpily asked, "So yuh finally decided to b'lieve me, did yuh?"

"No, Jelly. We're just lookin' for a snake to kill. Wouldn't want Teresa mad at yuh for makin' us late to her party on account of yuh not wantin' tuh tell us why yuh shot up her presents," Johnny soberly replied then emitted a soft snort and grinned broadly.

Seeing his brother's miserable attempt to maintain a facade of seriousness, Scott burst into laughter as well.

"You just laugh all yuh want. Ain't neither one a yuh gunna think it's funny once I find that snake," retorted Jelly.

Still chuckling softly, Scott moved a short distance away and set about a systematic search for the body of the dead snake that he wasn't quite sure actually existed. The longer he looked the more he doubted that Jelly was telling the truth. He was just about to demand that they quit wasting their precious time when he saw it: the tail of a rattlesnake poking out from under a rock overhang.

With his left hand resting on the top of the low ledge, Scott reached out with the other and started to lean over. "I found it!" he called then froze, his heart throbbing so hard that he could hear it--the sound combining with the buzz near his head.

~~~~~

Hearing Scott's announcement that the dead snake had been located, Johnny immediately went to have a look. Catching up with Jelly, who was also headed toward Scott, he fell into step with him.

"See . . . I told yuh I shot that rattler. But no, yuh just had tuh see it to believe it. Well, I hope you're satisfied I wasn't foolin'. Maybe now I'll get the thanks I deserve fer savin' yer sorry hide," Jelly sputtered, shuffling his legs a little faster to keep up with Johnny's longer stride.

"All right. I'm sorry I ever doubted yuh. Tell yuh what, I'll do. I'll see yuh get the whole day off tomorrow . . . just to show yuh how much I appreciate what yuh done for me. How about that?" Johnny playfully backhanded Jelly's arm.

"That's mighty nice of yuh . . . only what am I--." Jelly stopped walking as suddenly as he quit talking and grabbed Johnny by the wrist.

"Whatcha do that for?" Johnny demanded upon taking a staggering step backward to keep from falling when he was jerked off balance.

"Sh!" Jelly hissed while pointing at the rock next to Scott, who was leaning forward with his hand resting on the ledge.

The horror of his dream came rushing back as Johnny stared at the snake coiled within easy striking distance of his brother's face. Instinctively, his right hand sought the revolver that should have been strapped to his hip. It wasn't there. Nearly panicking, he remembered that it was still in his gun belt, which was tucked under the edge of his saddle where it would have been within easy reach, should he have needed it during the night.

"Where's your rifle?" Johnny asked without taking his eyes off his brother.

"Left it lyin' over there where we bedded down," Jelly replied, his fingers still locked around the younger man's wrist.

"Scott," Johnny said in a hushed voice. "Don't move, okay? I'll be right back with a gun."

Without waiting for the answer that he knew his brother couldn't give him anyway, Johnny shook free of Jelly's grip and slowly backed up a few feet then turned and sprinted back to their bedrolls. He covered the hundred yards or so in a matter of seconds, snatched the pistol from his gun belt, and gave the cylinder a spin to make sure the chambers were all loaded. Satisfied that they were, he started to turn to leave when he saw the rifle lying on the ground next to Scott's blanket. Thinking that it might be needed, he took the time to stoop down and grab the weapon before hurrying back to Jelly's side.

"There's three of 'em," Jelly said in a trembling voice upon Johnny's return. "There's two more coiled up under the edge of that rock. Can yuh see 'em?"

"Yeah, I see 'em," Johnny replied, not liking this new twist to the situation. Even if Jelly and he each killed one of the snakes, it still left a third that was within reach of his brother.

"What're we gunna do?" hoarsely whispered Jelly.

Johnny moistened his lips and studied the options. "Yuh think yuh can get the one on the rock?" he inquired a moment later as he handed the rifle to Jelly.

"Course," Jelly replied a bit indignantly.

"Good. Better climb up on the ledge and work your way to the snake. When you're ready to shoot, just nod. I'm gunna go for the other two. And Jelly," Johnny added as the older man started to comply, "be careful yuh don't spook him."

"I ain't gunna spook 'im," Jelly retorted. "You jus' make sure you get them other two and quit yer worryin' about me holdin' up my end of this here deal. I ain't about tuh letcha down."

While Jelly was circling around to get into position, Johnny instructed Scott to stay absolutely still until the shooting began and then to get away from the rock ledge as quickly as possible. "Whatever you do, Brother, don't stop once you start moving," he admonished. "There's no tellin' how many more are in that den, or what they'll do."

Anxiously Johnny waited for Jelly to find a low spot, climb up onto the ledge, and then work his way slowly toward the snake that was still eyeing Scott. His heart beat faster as the whiskered man came close to his quarry and began to slowly wave the end of the rifle barrel in front of the rattlesnake's head. One little mistake in judgement could mean serious trouble for his brother, and Johnny dreaded the horrifying possibilities of that thought.

While Jelly, who was standing in such a manner that the bullet would angle away from his young companions, continued to tease the snake, Johnny crouched to get a clear shot at the ones that were coiled up in the open space beneath the rock. Time seemed to drag as he held his breath in anticipation of what was about to happen.

When Jelly's head bobbed, the rifle cracked loudly and Johnny simultaneously fired his revolver. While his first bullet was taking the head off the snake closest to his brother, Johnny shifted his sights and squeezed off another shot, which ripped through the neck of the second. In less than the count of three the ordeal was over.

"You all right?" Johnny huskily asked, looking into the white face of his brother who had shoved away from the rock while taking a backward leap and was now standing at his side.

"I am now, thanks to you and Jelly," said Scott, his voice a bit shaky.

"That was close," Johnny remarked, letting his breath out noisily as he spoke.

"Yes, it was. Almost too close," Scott agreed as he placed a trembling hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Yuh want the rattles fer a souvenir," called Jelly from the rock ledge.

"Yeah, if you can find it. Just don't go locatin' any more live ones, okay?" replied Johnny. He had no sooner finished speaking than he heard an all too familiar sound.

"Over there," said Scott, pointing to a snake that was coiled up about thirty feet to Johnny's right on a small mound of dirt where it could catch the early morning rays of the sun.

"You wanna shoot him, or shall I?" Johnny asked.

"What if I miss?"

"Keep shootin'."

"And if I run out of bullets?"

"Then we'll do the runnin'."

"What!" exclaimed Scott incredulously. "Johnny Madrid, run from a snake. Aren't you afraid that might damage your reputation?"

"If you're worried about hittin' it, you could walk over there and wobble the gun in his face. Jelly swears yuh can't miss doin' it that way." A mischievous smile lit up Johnny's eyes.

"I think I'll try it from here, if you don't mind. I've been close to all the snakes that I care to be for one day," was Scott's adamant reply.

Johnny laughed lightly and then, seeing Jelly approaching, warned, "Better hurry. Jelly's on his way. If he gets here first, he'll spoil your fun."

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe, he'll just add to the fun. Hand me your revolver."

"Whatcha got in mind?" Johnny inquired, handing over the pistol and noting the roguish glint lighting his brother's eyes.

"You'll see. Just don't tell Jelly about that snake, or you'll spoil it."

Johnny laid a hand on Scott's shoulder and flashed him a teasing grin. "You know, Brother, I'm beginning to think you have a mean streak hidden under all those proper Boston manners of yours. What would your grandpappy say if he knew what you was thinkin'?"

Pushing his hat to the back of his head, Scott laughed then sobered before answering in a serious tone. "He would probably say that the combination of this untamed land and my wild brother have corrupted me, and then he would insist that I pack up my belongings and return with him to civilization so he could reform me."

"Yeah," Johnny said with a chuckle. "Well, I think it's me that's gettin' c'rupted. I'd a never thought of such a ornery trick to play on old Jelly," he continued while punching Scott lightly in the arm.

"Shush," Scott rebuked in a whisper. "He might hear you. This is only going to work if he doesn't suspect that we are up to something."

"We!" exclaimed Johnny. "Since when is this any of my doin'?"

"You, Little Brother, became a co-conspirator the moment you handed me your revolver."

"Co- what?" Johnny quizzically eyed Scott.

"Accomplice. Partner in crime."

"Why didn't yuh say so in the first place instead of usin' that big fancy college word?" Johnny grumbled with his eyebrows drawn together--a contradiction to the teasing glint in his eyes. "Yuh know, everybody ain't had as much book learnin' as you have."

Scott nudged Johnny with his elbow. "Exactly the reason I use them, Little Brother. I'm just trying to expand your vocabulary."

"Yeah, well I could expand yours too, if I had a mind to; only I'm too much of a gentleman," returned Johnny with a slight smirk.

"You're to much of a gentleman for what?" asked Jelly, who was striding toward them--the limp body of a rattlesnake dangling in his hand.

"Jelly! Don't move," commanded Scott, startling the older man into suddenly coming to a halt--one foot well in front of the other.

"What?" Jelly demanded, glancing toward his right as he wobbled to keep his balance.

"Rattlesnake . . . to your left," replied Scott.

Jelly turned his head to face the two younger men and retorted, "You're puttin' me on, aren'tcha? Thinkin' you'll have a little fun at my expense. Well it ain't gunna work."

"He ain't foolin' yuh," cut in Johnny as Jelly started to look around to the other side. "'Course if you wanna take a chance on gettin' bit, that's up to you. If I were you, though, I wouldn't be twistin' around like that."

"Where is it?" Jelly asked indignantly then froze as the snake rattled its tail.

"Not far from your left foot," replied Scott, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Don't even think about it," warned Johnny, holding back the laugh that was itching to be released. "You go tryin' tuh get a bead on him with that rifle barrel, you're gunna make him strike for sure. He's already mad from all the noise we just got done makin'."

"Johnny's right," Scott added. "There's nothing you can do except remain just as still as you possibly can while I ease my way over there close enough to get a decent shot at him."

"Hadn't Johnny oughtta do the shootin'?" Jelly queried in a trembling voice, which was accompanied by the buzzing of the snake's tail.

"You need to keep quiet," admonished Scott before taking small stealthy steps toward the whiskered man.

Johnny nearly choked at the sight of Jelly standing with bulging eyes while Scott stalked toward him like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. With arms wrapped across his stomach and forcing himself to stand upright, he watched as his brother reached his destination, leaned forward a little with the revolver pointed at a spot near Jelly's left foot, and then slowly rotated the end of the barrel in front of an imaginary serpent.

When the pistol cracked sharply and bucked in his hand, Scott whirled a little to the right and methodically fired three more shots into the serpent that was still a good fifteen feet away. When the gun clicked on an empty chamber, he raised the end of the barrel to his lips and blew. Jelly, who never so much as blinked while the shooting was going on, nearly sank to his knees.

Johnny erupted into a fit of laughter, which was immediately joined by sounds of mirth coming from Scott. When Jelly glared at them, they merely laughed harder until they were both holding their sides as they gasped for breath.

"Oh . . . you two. Think yer mighty funny don'tcha?" demanded Jelly, glaring from one brother to the other.

"Jelly, yuh shoulda seen yourself," sputtered Johnny. "I thought you was gunna pass out on us."

"I wasn't gunna do no such thing," Jelly huffed. "Besides, I knew all along that rattler wasn't even close to me. I was just playin' along with yuh, 'cause I didn't wanna spoil yer fun." Upon having his declaration meet with more laughter, he snorted in disgust and stalked back toward camp. When he was almost there, he glanced back over his shoulder and called, "If you two hyena's wanna eat before we leave, yuh best get yerselves over here; otherwise, I'm throwin' it away an' yuh can just go without."

Knowing they'd pushed Jelly to the limit, Johnny proclaimed to his brother that he was hungry and that it might not be a bad idea to humor the 'old codger'. Scott readily agreed, collected the body of the rattlesnake that he had killed, and followed the younger man back to the campfire.

Chapter 3 - Assessing the Damages

Upon reaching the camp, Scott Lancer went directly up to Jelly Hoskins. Holding out a dead snake by the rattles at the end of its tail, he asked, "What would you like me to do with this?"

"Eat it for all I care," snapped the whiskered man as he picked up his plate before going to sit on the log by their bedrolls.

"Are you sure that you don't want it for a souvenir?" Scott called, hiding his amusement behind a straight face as he draped the body of the snake over a nearby rock.

"No, I don't want it for a souvenir. It ain't good for nothin' with holes in it. Least yuh coulda done was shoot it in the head," Jelly retorted with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

Before Scott could think of an appropriate response, he heard his brother calling, "Hey, Scott. Maybe yuh better come have a look." Johnny was squatted down beside the package that was a short distance beyond where Jelly was sitting.

Suddenly remembering what Jelly had said earlier, Scott hurried over to his brother's side. "Don't tell me, Jelly really did shoot the gifts we picked up for Teresa," he said, leaning over for a closer inspection.

"Sure looks like it. See?" Johnny pointed at a hole in the brown paper that enclosed the precious items.

"I don't suppose it would do any good now to hope that the bullet passed through without causing any damage, would it?" Scott said with a sigh.

Johnny shrugged. "Doubt it." He lifted the package, felt of the bottom, and then held out his hand while wrinkling his nose. "Take a whiff of that. It tell yuh anything?"

Scott picked up a strong flowery scent and his heart plummeted. The vial of expensive French perfume had been ordered months ago so that he would be assured that it would arrive at the shop in Sacramento in plenty of time for Teresa's birthday. He had no doubts concerning the present condition of the bottle. It had to have been shattered.

"Guess we might as well see how bad the rest of the damage is, huh?" Johnny, not waiting for an answer, pulled the loose ends of the string that surrounded the package and untied it. With Scott watching his every move, he spread wide the edges of the paper to reveal the contents. "It's ruined," he stated in a defeated tone as he held up the folds of pale-blue silk fabric.

Scott stared down at the material that his brother had selected after spending nearly an hour agonizing over the dozens of choices available at Miss Abigail's Emporium for Ladies. Even though the perfume might have washed out, the myriad of holes caused by the shards of broken glass were beyond repair. The cloth appeared worthless. "I'm sorry, Johnny," he said, knowing that mere words were inadequate consolation.

By now Jelly had set his plate aside and was standing next to Scott. "I'm real sorry, Johnny," he choked out huskily. "It's all my fault. I shoulda paid more attention to where I was shootin'." He kicked disgustedly at a stone and sent it flying. "Now what are we gunna do? There ain't time tuh ride over tuh Green River and see what we can find there."

"I don't know," replied Scott, his stomach feeling a bit sick.

"How about the rest a the stuff?"

At Jelly's question, Johnny slowly shook his head.

"Yuh mean everythin's ruined?" asked Jelly, getting down on one knee. He rummaged through the contents of the package then groaned as his shoulders slumped. Dropping his chin to his chest, he wagged his head and said, "Murdoch ain't never gunna forgive me." With fingers wrapped around a delicate gold chain, he held up a scarred and dented piece of metal. "He had that jeweler friend of his make this locket special for Teresa. I remember how proud he was when he was tellin' me about it. Said he had a fancy silver 'O' surroundin' a gold Lancer 'L' custom made for the front. Sort of stood fer O'Brien and Lancer. Inside, he was gunna put a picture of her daddy on one side and, on the other, that picture of the three of you that was taken by that photographer fella, who stopped by the ranch a couple months ago. On the back, he was gunna have her name and age engraved. Now look at it. Ain't fit fer nothin'."

Scott reached out and laid a hand on Jelly's shoulder then gave it a squeeze. "Murdoch'll understand," he said consolingly. "After all, you just may have saved Johnny's life."

"But what are we gunna give Teresa for her birthday?"

"These look all right," replied Johnny, lifting several colorful ribbons up for the other men to see.

"Sure ain't much for a girl celebratin' her only seventeenth birthday," grumbled Jelly.

"No it isn't," agreed Scott, a plan beginning to formulate in his mind. "However, you did give her something far more valuable, and I'm sure that Murdoch will agree."

"Hey, I've got an idea," cut in Johnny. "We could skin one of those snakes and take it back to make her a hat band. Maybe we could even find a way to attach an extra set rattles to it."

"You know, Brother. Sometimes you amaze me. I was going to suggest the very same thing," said Scott with a slap to his brother's arm.

"What'd yuh do with that snake you had, Jelly?" Johnny asked as he removed his knife from his pocket.

"Anybody gunna skin my snake, it'll be me," asserted the older man. "You're liable tuh cut a hole in it."

"Better let him, Johnny, or all the way back to the ranch, we'll be listening to him tell us how much better he could have done it. We'll never hear the end of it, and you know it."

"You sayin'--"

"Jelly, Scott's right. You better do the skinnin'. My ears can't take listenin' to your complainin' for a whole day," cut in Johnny.

"Think yer smart, don't yuh. Well I'll have you know--"

"If you're going to have that rattlesnake skinned by the time Johnny and I are ready to go, hadn't you best be getting at it?" asked Scott, hoping to deter the older man from getting started on one of his tirades.

"Hmph. Looks like a fella ain't even allowed tuh talk when he's around the two of you," grouched Jelly as he turned his back on the brothers and returned to the log to finish his breakfast.

"Guess we better get somethin' tuh eat b'fore he beats us to it and tosses it out, huh?"

"You go ahead, Johnny," said Scott as his brother rose to his feet. "I think I'll see what else can be salvaged out of all this. It'll take Jelly a little while to get the skin off of his snake." Reaching for the fabric that was still in Johnny's hands, he asked, "You mind if I take a look at that?"

"Why? It ain't good for nothin'."

"Perhaps not all of it is ruined."

"Ain't enough tuh make nothin' out of," Johnny downheartedly replied.

"That may be, but it can't hurt to take a look, can it?"

"Have at it . . . but I think your wastin' your time."

Upon catching the soft material as it slipped from between his brother's fingers, Scott inspected its full length while Johnny looked on. "Just what I thought," he said after a moment. "The pieces of glass only went through the top folds. See?" He held up the lower portion of the fabric. "There's more than a yard here that they never touched."

"Yeah, well what about the bullet holes?" Johnny asked, a hint of disgust to his voice.

"I think that can be worked around," Scott replied, a light smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Folding the cloth into a small bundle, he added, "Tell you what. You stick with Jelly. I'm going to ride on ahead to Maria's son's place and see what his wife can do with this. You can meet me there. The pack mule should slow the two of you down enough to give Lucinda sufficient time for what I have in mind."

"Hey, that's my present. Why don't yuh just tell me what your thinkin', and I'll have her make it?"

"Because, Brother, I don't have it all planned out in my mind, yet. Besides, I'm older than you."

"Don't see what age's got tuh do with it." Johnny hung his head and toed the dirt at his feet.

"Humor me, all right. Just think of it as your gift to Teresa. Is that too much to ask?" Scott pleaded.

Johnny's head came up. "Okay . . . but you're gunna owe me. I ain't havin' my ears talked off for nothin'."

"I'll see that you are adequately rewarded," promised Scott then inquiringly studied his brother. "So . . . do we have a deal, or not?"

"Yeah. We got a deal," Johnny reluctantly conceded. "Only just remember, I was one that picked that cloth out, so don't you go takin' all the credit for whatever yuh end up havin' done with it."

"Don't worry, Johnny. I'll make sure that Teresa knows exactly who contributed what to her gift," Scott assured him then retrieved the dented locket, the glass stopper to the perfume bottle, and the ribbons from the package on the ground. After placing them within the folds of the fabric, which he deposited in one of the compartments of his saddlebags, he joined his brother by the fire.

The cup of coffee was downed in a few gulps, the hot liquid burning his throat all the way to his stomach, but Scott ignored the pain. He was in a hurry. To save even more time, he chose to eat along the trail so he stowed his pieces of bacon and four biscuits in the other side of his saddlebag before rolling up his blankets into a long tube and tying it to the cantle of his saddle. He then went to catch his sorrel horse. A short while later, he was urging his mount into an easy trot toward home.

Chapter 4 - Contending with Stubborn Mules

The camp of the night before had been left behind hours ago when Johnny, with Jelly right behind him, reached the bank of the river, which flowed from the mountains on the eastern boundary of the Lancer ranch. Once they were across it, they would have to cut south from the road to meet up with Scott at Pedro's place, which was near the base of a cliff on one side of a narrow canyon that the river flowed through on its way westward. If they could have followed the course of the river from there, home would have been little more than an hour away. That however would not be possible. The sheer rock walls at the water's edge along with the large boulders and deep holes that were scattered throughout that stretch of riverbed made it impassable. Their only choice, therefore, would be to take the longer route and backtrack to the road that would lead them up over a series of hills to where it crossed a high ridge that overlooked the ranch headquarters.

With at least two hours of travel time to go, Johnny was in a hurry. He urged Barranca into the shallow water at the edge of the river then twisted in the saddle so he could look behind him and see how Jelly was doing. He frowned. The mule had its front legs braced stiffly in a forward angle while its haunches were lowered to where it was nearly sitting on the riverbank.

"Come on you lop-eared piece a crow bait. Now ain't no time tuh be sullin' up," he heard Jelly grouse as the hired man tugged at the mule's lead line.

Johnny couldn't keep from grinning a little as he turned Barranca around and rode back to Jelly. The pack mule had been on the receiving end of that man's verbal abuse ever since they had started out that morning. Crowding close to the whiskered man's mount--both of their horses facing the river crossing--Johnny reached for the mule's lead rope. "Why don't yuh let me take him a while?" he offered.

Jelly glared over his shoulder at his young companion and retorted, "He ain't gunna go no better for you'n he'll go for me. Yuh wanna help, try proddin' him from behind."

With a shrug, Johnny guided his horse backward until Barranca's chest was even with the mule's rump. "Get up there, Brambles," he coaxed while poking the pack animal with the toe of his boot.

The mule refused to move. When Johnny jabbed him a little harder, he brayed and sank his hindquarters even closer to the ground.

"Come on, you ornery critter. It's just a little water. Ain't even gunna reach yer knees," Jelly scolded, giving the lead rope a hard jerk. When the pack animal still refused to go anywhere, he hollered for Johnny to give Brambles a good walloping.

Johnny untied the leather strings that held his lariat to the side of his saddle and began slapping the coiled rope against the rump of the mule while Jelly continued to pull on the lead line. Brambles merely brayed louder and sat all the way down.

"You cantankerous, heap of bones," Jelly muttered. "Ain't nothin' dumber . . . or more stubborn than a mule. Don't know why the boss keeps yuh. Yuh ain't good for nothin'."

The corners of Johnny's mouth twitched upward. "What're yuh mumblin' about?"

"Go ahead an' laugh," huffed Jelly. "Once one a these worthless critters ever put his tail-end in the ground, a stick a dynamite won't even move 'im. Unless we can find a way tuh change his mind, we'll be lucky tuh make it back tuh the ranch by midnight. Maybe you oughta go on ahead. Ain't no reason fer us all to be late tuh T'resa's party."

"I'm not leavin' you behind, Jelly, so forget that idea. If you'll just hang on a minute, I'll make him move."

"Yeah . . . and just how yuh plan on doin' that?" Jelly retorted.

There was a touch of devilment in Johnny's eyes as he swung a leg over Barranca's neck and dropped lightly to the ground. "You just keep a tight hold on that rope," he admonished. "Let me worry about gettin' him goin'."

"Watch them heels. Brambles came awful close tuh breakin' Walt's leg a couple weeks ago."

"Jelly, I can handle my end. You just worry about yours . . . all right?" Johnny ignored the concern written on the older man's face.

"Well don't say yuh wasn't warned," Jelly snapped with an indignant upward tilt to his chin.

Paying no heed to the other man, Johnny separated the noose at the end of his lariat from the rest of the coils and stepped closer to the mule. Taking hold of its tail and lifting it slightly, he threaded it through the rope loop.

"Johnny . . . you plumb loco, or what? That mule's li'ble tuh kick yer head off."

"You just get a good hold on that lead rope and be ready tuh head across the river soon's I give this a tug." Johnny gave the brim of his hat a flip with his thumb so that the hat hung down his back from the string that was under his chin. With his head down, he leaned closer to the rump of the mule and began to work the lariat up under the animal's tail.

Jelly let out an exasperated grunt. "You're as stubborn as that there mule . . . and yuh ain't got no more sense, neither," he said disgustedly as he took a couple wraps around the horn of his saddle with the pack animal's lead rope.

Johnny continued to ignore the older man's words. There was a job that needed doing, and he was going to get it done no matter what it took to do it. Besides that, as far as he was concerned, Jelly was a worrywart. Johnny figured that if listened to every precaution the man voiced, they would never catch up with Scott in time to make it home for Teresa's birthday party.

Once the rope was satisfactorily in place, Johnny vaulted onto Barranca then gathered his reins and once more advised Jelly to hang on and be ready. Touching his spurs to his mount's sides, he gave a yank on the lariat and hollered, "Go."

Brambles grunted and lunged to his feet when the rope bit into the base of his tail. Bumping into Jelly's horse, he nearly unseated the man. Upon hitting the end of the lead rope, the mule lowered his head until his nose was nearly touching the ground and viciously lashed out with both hind legs--one iron clad hoof brushing against Johnny's right leg just below the knee. Bucking and kicking, and his pack swaying wildly from side to side, he then charged into the river.

Johnny let the lariat slip through his fingers and sucked in his breath as he watched the mule jerk Jelly's bay horse sideways and off balance, toppling horse and rider into the river just before the lead rope slipped from the saddle horn. Brambles, water splashing onto the pack on his back, then waded toward the far side of the crossing.

"I catch that mule, I'm gunna put a bullet between his ears," sputtered Jelly, struggling to his feet and wiping the dripping water from his eyes just as Johnny arrived at his side to give him a helping hand.

"You do that and you'll be walkin' . . . unless yuh plan on ridin' on top of the pack," Johnny said with a hint of a chuckle as he pulled the other man up behind him. Once they were across the river, he waited for Jelly to slide to the ground then went to retrieve the older man's horse that had stopped at the edge of the embankment to crop on a tuft of grass.

"Whoever named that mule, Brambles, sure knew what they were doin'. He's as prickly as a briar patch," groused Jelly as he accepted the reins that Johnny held out to him a few moments later. Climbing into the saddle, he added, "We better get after him. If we don't, he'll have them supplies strewed from here tuh Texas."

"I'll get him," Johnny said, urging Barranca into a lope after the mule that was just disappearing from sight in a bend in the road.

Catching up to Brambles was the easy part. Getting the lariat out from under his clamped tail was another story. Johnny quickly gave up the idea of accomplishing that task on his own after his hair came within a fraction of an inch of being permanently parted by one of the mule's hooves. Instead, he tried leading the pack animal back to where Jelly was. This wasn't exactly simple either since Brambles would stop every few strides to hump his back and kick out at the rope that kept snagging on rocks or bushes as it dragged along behind him. Johnny did finally get there after having his leg scraped against and almost crushed by the supply pack when the mule lunged into Barranca's side a couple of times.

Once the mule was securely tied to a tree next to a rock that was large enough to keep the animal from sidestepping, the two men proceeded to put hobbles on his front and rear legs. With the animal restrained and Jelly on horseback to block Brambles' one remaining avenue of escape, Johnny was able to get his hands on the rope at last. It still was no speedy chore to loosen the noose. The mule did not readily relax the grip it had with its tail, and it was a good thirty minutes before Johnny and Jelly were on their way again.

~~~~~

Shooed from the house after explaining to Lucinda what he had in mind for the salvageable pieces of Teresa's birthday presents, Scott led his sorrel horse over to the water trough by the barn where Lucinda's husband, Pedro, was repairing a broken wagon tongue. He loosened the cinch to his saddle just a little and let the sorrel have a drink. Then, allowing insufficient slack for the horse to get its head down to roll, he looped the reins over the saddle horn and turned the animal loose in the corral before going to see what help he could be to Pedro.

The next hour and a half passed quickly as the two men carried on a companionable conversation while they worked. Prior to his death during an early raid by Day Pardee just shortly after Murdoch Lancer and his foreman, Paul O'Brien, had been ambushed, Pedro's father had been a vaquero at the Lancer ranch for close to fifteen years. Consequently, Pedro had learned much of the history of the ranch and the surrounding area, and Scott was quite fascinated by the young man's stories.

When Scott put the pin that held the tongue of the wagon to the wagon box in its hole, he thought of his brother and Jelly, and wondered what was taking them so long to catch up with him. There was still no sign of them thirty minutes later. Beginning to be concerned that they might have met with some kind of trouble, he collected the gifts Lucinda had just finished making for him and carefully stowed them in his saddlebags. Once mounted, he said his good-byes to the young Mexican couple and promised to give their best wishes to Teresa. Although Pedro and Lucinda had been invited to the party, they hadn't planned to attend because she was expecting their first child in less than two months and wasn't able to travel horseback. The wagon couldn't be fixed until the new wheel that had been ordered for it arrived in Spanish Wells in a couple of days.

Scott had nearly reached the road when he reined his mount to a halt in front of the two men he was looking for. "What took you so long?" he asked in a tone that was slightly demanding.

Jelly shot Johnny a challenging glance then looked at Scott and replied, "Mules."

Scott's eyebrows raised a little as did the pitch of his voice. "Mules?"

"That's what I said. One with four legs and the other with two . . . if yuh catch my meanin'," Jelly said with another sideways glance in Johnny's direction.

Scott eyed Jelly's wet clothes. "It appears to me that you went for swim."

"Weren't 'cause I wanted to. I'll have you know, I had help."

"I see." Scott feigned interest in something on the ground by his horse's front hoof while fighting to keep from smiling. Gaining a measure of control, he looked up at Jelly and said, "Those mules ganged up and dunked you in the river, is that it?"

"It ain't no laughin' matter," retorted Jelly. "I could a drowned."

"Jelly, you wasn't any closer tuh drownin' than . . . than I was tuh bein' bit by a rattlesnake," Johnny interjected.

"Yeah. Well maybe I should've just let yuh wake up with that rattler lookin' yuh in the eye. I bet yuh'd be singin' a whole different tune, if I had of."

Before Johnny had a chance to form a rebuttal that would surely lead to a long discussion of the events of earlier that day, Scott insisted they be on their way since they were already going to be late for Teresa's party. He also suspected there was quite a story behind what had happened to the older man at the river, but he was in no mood to waste time hearing it. As far as he was concerned, Jelly could tell him about it on the way, if the man wanted to talk about it.

Urging his horse into a fast walk and passing by the other two riders, Scott called over his shoulder, "Jelly, do you think you can get those mules of yours to move a little faster." Laughing at the mix of English and a few well-chosen Spanish words that came from his brother's mouth, he faced forward once more and led the way up the hill.

Chapter 5 - Gambling on Luck or a Sure Thing

The three riders crested the top of the ridge and started down the long winding road that would lead them to the valley floor and the Lancer hacienda, which was nestled in a grove of trees along one edge of a large field. Tugging on the lead rope in his left hand, Jelly Hoskins spoke in an indignant tone. "You two don't haftuh wait on me, yuh know. It ain't like I'm some greenhorn kid that don't know what he's doin'. I'm quite capable of leadin' one ornery mule down this hill and gettin' our gear home in one piece."

Johnny Lancer let out a snort that was followed by a soft chuckle from his brother, Scott, who then said, "Now, Jelly, you know that we agreed that if one of us was late, we would all be late."

"But there ain't no need of it," Jelly insisted, the pitch of his voice rising a little. "If yuh'd listened tuh me, the two a yuh coulda been home nearly an hour ago. There just ain't no need us all keepin' Teresa waitin'. 'Sides, you're family."

"We ain't no more family'n you are, Jelly . . . I mean as far as blood goes," admonished Johnny, holding his palomino to the slower pace set by the mule so he could stay even with the older man.

"I know she looks on me like I'm an uncle or somethin', but she is Murdoch's ward. Legally that practically makes her his daughter . . . and your sister. Far as the law goes, I ain't nothin' to her."

"That may be, Jelly, but Teresa considers you part of her family . . . as do we, so . . . end of discussion," stated Scott, who was riding on the other side of Jelly.

The finality in his brother's tone brought an instant grin to Johnny's face. Leaning forward so he could make eye contact, he said, "Yuh know, Scott . . . you're gettin' tuh sound more an' more like our old man every day." Receiving a scowl from his sibling, he laughed then straightened and spoke to the man between them. "Come on, Jelly. Smile. Yuh don't wanna be lookin' all sour when T'resa sees yuh, do yuh?"

"Oh," Jelly growled. "I don't know how Murdoch puts up with you two smart mouths. If yuh was mine, I'd whomp the daylights out o' yuh both. Ain't neither one o' yuh got any respect fer yer elders."

"Now that is something I would like to see," Scott challenged with a chuckle.

"You wouldn't be laughin' if I was ten years younger. I was considerable stronger'n I looked. Coulda whipped yuh both with one arm tied behind my back."

The corners of Johnny's lips twitched upward when Scott smiled and said, "I bet you could have at that."

"You can bet yer life, I could've. Fact is I'd be willin' tuh wager that Murdoch still can." Jelly ended with a definitive nod and a sharp tug on the lead rope in his hand.

"How much?" queried Scott, letting his mount lengthen its stride a little as Jelly's horse and the mule stepped out into a little faster walk.

"How much, what?" Jelly asked.

"How much are you willing to wager that Murdoch could take on both Johnny and me with one hand?"

"You're serious." Jelly's eyes opened wider.

"Just taking you up on your offer. As they say: put up or--"

"All right," interrupted Jelly. "How about a month's pay? Only don't say I didn't warn yuh."

"You're on."

"Hold it, Brother," Johnny cut in. "You ain't ropin' me in on this. Our old man's tougher'n he looks."

"Johnny, now just how can Murdoch possibly beat the two of us if he only has the use of one hand?"

"I don't know, but I have a feelin' he'd find a way," Johnny drawled softly more to himself than to the other men.

"What's a matter? Scared? Ain't the odds enough in yer favor?" Jelly taunted.

"Come on, Johnny. We can't lose . . . and just think of what you could do with an extra half a month's salary."

"Okay," Johnny replied, heaving a sigh as he let his brother's confidence sway him. "I'm prob'ly gunna regret lettin' yuh talk me into this . . . but I'm in."

"Good. I can feel that extra change jingling in my pocket already," remarked Scott, lifting his hat and wiping the sweat from his brow before settling the hat firmly on the top of his head once again.

"Jelly, could yuh try gettin' that mule tuh move a little faster," queried Johnny. Tipping his head back, he sniffed the air. "I swear I can smell that beef roastin' on the spit. Just the thought of them juicy steaks is makin' me weak with hunger."

"Johnny, nothin' short o' puttin' a rope under this ol' mule's tail is gunna make him move any faster'n he already is. Yuh might as well just relax and enjoy the ride, 'less yuh wanna go on ahead like I been a tellin' yuh to all along."

"I got a better idea," Johnny said as they came to where the road made a sweeping corner to the left at the brow of a knob on the hill before it began its mile-long zigzagging descent to the bottom. He slowed Barranca and crowded closer to Jelly then announced, "I'll take that bag of bones from here."

"He ain't gunna go no faster for you," retorted Jelly as the rope slid through his fingers.

"If you'll just give him a good smack on the rump tuh get him goin' once I get him pointed off the road, I'll be to the bottom long before you . . . unless yuh wanna take the same short cut I'm takin'," Johnny replied as he gave the lead line a couple of turns around his saddle horn.

"Johnny, you ain't gunna try goin' straight down, are yuh? You'll never make it. Ol' Brambles here'll sull up on yuh first thing. You're just askin' tuh take a tumble, yuh know that don't yuh?" Jelly pleaded, his voice matching the fear in his eyes.

"Let me worry about that," Johnny answered with a touch of arrogance. "You just swat him good and hard with your reins once I get him headed in the right direction."

"You'll never make it," Scott said in a reproving tone. "It'd be risky enough just with Barranca. Trying to lead that mule off of here is just asking for trouble. Murdoch won't be any too happy if you get yourself hurt and spoil Teresa's party."

Johnny, ignoring the concern written on his brother's face and the words of admonition, faced Barranca toward the downhill side of the road and confidently said, "I can handle it, Scott. I've taken Barranca off here lots of times. All I need is a little help gettin' Brambles started. Once he's movin', there's no way he's gunna stop before he hits the bottom."

"Well, Little Brother, it's that hit at the bottom that worries me. I just hope you arrive there in one piece."

Paying no heed to Scott, Johnny nudged Barranca forward and called, "Now, Jelly, whallop him hard."

"All right, but don't expect me tuh cry at your funeral," retorted Jelly as he brought the leather ends of the horsehair reins down hard on the mule's rump.

Brambles let out a loud bray of rage and leapt forward, bumping into Barranca. "Again," ordered Johnny, leaning back slightly. As he urged his mount to keep moving, he held tightly onto the saddle horn with one hand while gripping the end of the mule's lead rope with the other to keep the rope from slipping.

The next smack of Jelly's reins sent the mule furiously charging down over the edge of the hill. Later, Johnny would wonder what had ever possessed him to try such a fool stunt, but at that moment there wasn't time to think. He was too busy trying to stay aboard Barranca, who was scrambling to keep from being jerked off his feet.

Barranca practically slid on his rump down the steep incline, his head up and front legs bouncing stiffly with each stride. Instinctively, Johnny leaned back as the mule practically dragged them along. Placing his weight over his mount's hindquarters helped the horse to retain its balance, but Johnny was still thankful for a slightly level spot fifty feet or so from the road, which afforded the palomino a chance to regain a measure of control.

Slipping and sliding with nearly every step, Barranca and Brambles continued the wild race to the bottom. There was no stopping the headlong rush or guiding his mount so Johnny did the only thing he could do: he hung on. He kept his legs tightly wrapped around Barranca's girth, the balls of his feet pressed hard against the stirrups, his head up, and his right hand gripping the horn of the saddle while somehow retaining his hold on the mule's lead line.

The floor of valley loomed closer with each passing second. Trees that had been splashes of green took shape and formed branches that soon were adorned with leaves. Pebbles turned into boulders and the ribbon of dirt widened into a road. Yet, there was no slowing of the pace or smoothing out of the ride. Occasionally a stab of pain shot through Johnny's leg as the swaying and flopping pack on the back of the mule battered against him. Gritting his teeth with determination, he ignored it for he had no choice but to stick with Barranca to the end.

At last, Johnny reached the spot overlooking the final turn in the road that skirted the base of the hill before parting a row of trees and heading for the gateway with 'Lancer' carved into the stone arch. The next thing he knew Barranca was plunging over the tall dirt embankment that was nearly perpendicular. His mouth flew open and a scream stuck in his throat. He closed his eyes and held his breath while waiting for the inevitable crash.

The next seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. Barranca's center of balance, shifting from hindquarters to forehand, threw Johnny forward, tearing his hand from its grip on the horn. An increased rush of wind then tugged at his hat that was hanging against his back by the cord, which was pressing against his throat--choking him. Next, he simultaneously heard the impact of front hooves hitting the hard dirt, and felt something hard grinding into his belly while his nose exploded with pain as his face smashed against the solid crest of his horse's neck. Gasping for air, Johnny grabbed a fistful of mane and somehow clung to the end of the mule's lead rope, which was miraculously still in his left hand, while Barranca scrambled to get his legs under him.

As quickly as the nightmare had begun, it was over. Barranca was standing at the far edge of the road, his sides heaving. Brambles, nose touching the ground, was also breathing heavily, and both animals were covered with froth. For several minutes, Johnny continued to lie with his face buried in Barranca's silky mane--blood slowly discoloring the strands of flaxen hair--while bidding his heart to cease its desperate attempt to escape the confines of his chest and his head to stop spinning. He wasn't even aware that his brother and Jelly had arrived at a gallop until he heard Scott say in a panic stricken tone, "Johnny, are you all right?"

Johnny raised his head, tears still spilling from his eyes and leaving trails on his dust covered cheeks before mingling with droplets of blood coming from his nose as they ran across his lips and off the end of his chin. Weakly he nodded then tried to sit upright while taking a few deep breaths.

"That has to be the most loco, hair-brained, idiotic, fool stunt you've ever pulled in your life. It's a wonder yuh didn't break your neck," Jelly sputtered as he reigned his mount to a halt in front of Barranca. "Sometimes, I swear yuh ain't got the brains God gave a goose. Why Dewdrop's got more smarts'n you do. The good Lord must a sent a whole host a angels to get yuh down here in one piece, else yuh'd a never made it, is all I can say . . . other'n it's a good thing Scott's the one carryin' Teresa's presents."

For several minutes, the tongue-lashing went on as Jelly expounded upon Johnny's total lack of good sense and the wonders of the pack on the mule's back surviving the descent--among other things. Finally, Scott cut in. "Hadn't we better be going before we waste all of the time we've gained?"

"I'm ready if Jelly'll stop talkin' and get out o' my way," replied Johnny, raising a no-longer-trembling hand to stem the flow of blood from his nose as his vision cleared and the beating of his heart slowed.

"Well, excuse me," retorted Jelly. As he hauled his mount around and kicked it into motion, he loudly tossed the rest of his complaint over his shoulder. "Seems a man can't even show a little concern around here 'thout bein' accused o' bein' a hindrance."

Johnny squeezed Barranca into a walk only to be brought to an abrupt stop when the mule balked and refused to move until Scott gave it several hard whacks on the rump. By the time they caught up with Jelly, the older man had already passed under the stone archway that bore the Lancer name.

The balance of the ride home was spent in relative silence except when Johnny, who was worried that word of his latest escapade might reach his father's ears and that he would find himself on the receiving end of another lecture, tried smoothing Jelly's ruffled feathers. He even begged forgiveness and promised to use better judgement in the future. Finally, satisfied that his hair-raising ride would remain between his brother, Jelly, and him, he let the matter drop and concentrated on the forthcoming explanation Murdoch and Teresa were bound to require of them for being late to her party.

A short time later as the three weary travelers rode past the block stockade and into the corral, they were greeted with sounds of laughter mingled with the soft strains of guitars and fiddles. The yard area between the house and them was filled with tethered saddle horses, buggies, and wagons of all sizes and types. It looked to Johnny as though the entire county had put in an appearance.

Knowing that there would be no sneaking in unobserved, Johnny splashed a little water from the horse trough onto his face and wiped away the remaining blood with the sleeve of his shirt then boldly led the way toward the courtyard once the horses and mule had been attended to. He had a feeling that before morning he wouldn't be able to so easily hide the results of his wild ride down the hill. His nose and maybe one eye or both eyes were sure to be changing color by then.

Chapter 6 - Paying the Price

A scowl crossed the face of the tall gray-haired rancher who was standing on the tiled front porch of his Spanish style mansion where he was only halfway listening to a couple of his neighbors discussing the sudden drop in the price of beef. Despite the reassurances he had voiced to Teresa a short time earlier, he was beginning to worry that she may have been right. His sons and Jelly were going to miss her party.

"Ain't that right, Murdoch? Murdoch."

The sound of his name being spoken more sharply the second time caught Murdoch Lancer's attention, and he realized that he was being spoken to. "Huh?" he replied, having no idea what had just been said.

"Dave heard rumors that Warburton's planning on selling his whole herd. That's just gunna flood the market and drive the prices lower. Don't you think we need to do something to stop him?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Murdoch said distractedly. At that same moment, he spotted the three riders he had been waiting for. "Look . . . why don't you see what you can do about setting up a special meeting of the Association so we can discuss this and come to some consensus. Right now I need to talk to my boys," he added, giving one of the men a pat on the arm before heading toward the corral.

He had barely reached the hitching rail, which was just a few feet away, when several more ranchers from the area waylaid him. They also wanted to talk about the impending problem with Warburton, an inexperienced easterner, who ran a sizeable herd on government land in the mountains east of Morro Coyo. By the time Murdoch could pull himself free of them, his sons and Jelly were only a few feet away.

"It's about time you three got here," Murdoch remarked. "I expected you home an hour or more ago. What held you up?" He looked from one son to the other and then at the hired man, who had become like one of the family.

"Well, we woulda, Boss, if it hadn't been for that mule slowin' us down, and Johnny campin' us practically on top a rattlesnake den last night."

"Me?" Johnny frowned at Jelly. "You're the one that said we'd better grab the first likely place tuh bed down."

"Well I never told yuh to invite no snakes tuh sleep with yuh."

"Hey, I didn't invite him. He invited himself."

"A rattlesnake crawled into your bedroll with you?" asked Murdoch, concern furrowing his brow as he addressed his younger son.

"Just curled up on his chest, is all," stated Jelly.

When Murdoch's questioning gaze passed over the three, Scott spoke up. "Johnny's fine. Jelly shot the snake."

"With it on him?" Murdoch looked away from his elder son and fastened his eyes on the hired man. "Jelly, don't you think that was a little risky?"

"I squatted down, Boss, so there weren't no danger a me hittin' Johnny," Jelly replied indignantly.

"But what if you'd missed? Johnny could have been bitten." A slight tremor ran down Murdoch's spine at the thought.

"Weren't no chance a that," said Jelly, proudly lifting his chin and stretching a little taller. "I had my rifle barrel right in that rattler's face. Ain't yuh never seen the way a snake'll follow whatever's in front of his nose. They'll line therselves right up with the end of any gun. All yuh gotta do is pull the trigger. There ain't no way yuh can miss doin' it that way."

"That still doesn't explain why it took so long for you to get home." Murdoch studied the three. He was certain there was something that wasn't being told.

"Jelly thought Teresa might like to have the rattles," spoke up Scott.

Murdoch shook his head in disbelief. "You mean to tell me that it took you better than an hour to take the rattles off of a snake?"

"No. It didn't take all that long. 'Course we had tuh find it first. That took, oh, ten minutes or so . . . wouldn't yuh say, Scott?" replied Johnny looking from his father to his brother.

"That's right, Boss, only . . .."

Murdoch shifted his gaze to Jelly. "Only what?"

"Well, uh, Scott sorta found more'n the snake I shot,"

"Oh?"

"Johnny an' me took care of 'em, though. I got the one by his hand, and Johnny got the two under the edge a the rock by his feet," Jelly quickly explained.

"Uh, huh . . . and how long did all of this take?" Murdoch responded skeptically. Studying the three men in front of him, he wondered just how much truth there was in the tall tale they were telling him.

"Not long," said Jelly, then as he continued, his tone became accusing as he waved a hand at Johnny and Scott. "'Course those two had tuh do some smartin' around tryin' tuh get the best a me. Thought they could scare me inta thinkin' there was a rattler by my feet. I let 'em have their fun, but they weren't foolin' me none. I knew all along it wasn't anywhere near close enough tuh get me."

"Were you able to get all of Teresa's gifts?" asked Murdoch with a hint of agitation, having decided that the reason for their delay was not the critical issue at the moment.

"We got 'em, all right, Murdoch, but uh . . .." Jelly paused and eyed the man towering above him.

Murdoch felt his stomach sink toward his toes. "But what?" he demanded, crossing his arms and sternly looking at his hired man.

Scott moved slightly in front of Jelly and spoke in a defensive tone. "Jelly didn't do it on purpose, Sir. It was an accident."

A stronger sense of dread came over Murdoch. "Jelly, you didn't," he said turning accusing eyes on the smaller man while visualizing what might have happened.

Jelly squirmed. "Whatcha lookin' at me like that for? Like Scott told yuh; it was an accident. Yuh oughta just be grateful I saved Johnny's life instead a makin' such a fuss over some trinket T'resa'd only wear once in a while."

"He's right, Murdoch," defended Scott. "That snake could easily have struck Johnny in the face or throat. You know as well as I do that a bite like that would have been fatal."

"See . . . and not only that, I saved Scott from gettin' bit in the hand or face, too. Way I see it, I more'n paid for . . . well for what I ruined."

"I'll see that you're amply rewarded," remarked Murdoch with a heavy sigh. Although he was grateful that neither one of his sons had been bitten, he couldn't help being disappointed that Teresa might not have any presents to open from her family.

"Oh, you don't have tuh worry about that, Murdoch," spoke up Johnny with the beginning of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Jelly's already figured out how yuh can pay him,"

Certain that he wasn't going to like the answer, Murdoch asked, "And just how might that be?"

"By helpin' him win a little bet he made with Scott and me."

"What kind of a bet, and how much is it going to cost me?" pressed Murdoch, scowling at Jelly.

"Oh, it ain't gunna cost yuh nothin'. Jelly's puttin' up the money . . . one whole month's pay. Ain't that right?" Johnny grinned over at Jelly, who was glowering back at him.

"I see. And just what is it that I have to do?" Murdoch inquired impatiently.

"Whip the two of us," Johnny softly said, indicating with a wave of his hand that he was speaking of himself and Scott.

Murdoch stroked his chin with his thumb as he studied his sons for a moment, then casting a speculative glance in Jelly's direction, inquired, "One at a time, or both at once?"

"Both at once . . . but you don't have to go through with it, if you don't want to," Scott hurriedly replied. "Johnny and I would understand, wouldn't we, Brother?"

Noticing that an audience was beginning to form, Murdoch gave the situation a brief moment of serious thought then, looking Scott in the eye, said, "Let me get this straight. Jelly bet that I could take on Johnny and you at the same time and win, is that it?"

"Pretty much," slowly replied Scott.

"I take it that means there's more to it."

"You have to have one hand tied behind your back, but like I said, you don't have to agree to it. It was a ridiculous bet anyway. It's hardly fair to expect a man of your, . . .."

When Scott paused for a moment, Murdoch frowned and inquired in an indignant tone, "You think I'm too old, is that it?"

"I didn't say that exactly," Scott replied, dropping his eyes toward the ground.

"That's what it sounded like it to me . . . or are you just getting cold feet?"

"You're not seriously thinking of taking the both of us on at once, are you, Sir?" Scott's eyes, showing how inconceivable the idea was to him, slowly met those of his father.

Spurred on by his son's lack of faith in him, Murdoch began to devise a plan. "Yes, I am," he announced, stroking his chin before adding, "and there's no time like the present."

"You don't mean yuh wanna fight us right now, do yuh? What about your clothes; won't yuh get 'em all mussed up?" Johnny queried while reaching out and touching the collar of Murdoch's suit jacket.

"I think I can manage without doing too much damage to what I'm wearing," Murdoch replied confidently. "However, before we start, I do want to make sure I understand this correctly. The only rule is that I have one arm tied behind my back . . . is that right?"

"That's all, but--"

"Good," stated Murdoch in a commanding tone then turned to address the men who had gathered around. "If you men will form a circle, I'll show my sons that I'm not nearly as old and helpless as they seem to think I am . . . and then we'll go see if that beef is ready to eat."

"Murdoch, yuh really don't have tuh go through with this, yuh know. Teresa ain't gunna like it if we get bloodied up."

With an air of unconcern and a slight smile on his lips, Murdoch ignored Johnny's pleading and, looking down on his sons, said, "If you boys want to call it quits, that's fine with me, but it'll cost you each a month's pay. That was the amount of the bet, was it not?"

"That's right," butted in Jelly before either of Murdoch's sons could respond. "Yuh both agreed so yuh can't back out now without payin' up."

"You heard the man, Johnny. Forfeiture is the same as losing . . . so we might as well go through with this. We have nothing more to lose."

"But our hide," Johnny added sarcastically.

"There's two of us and only one of him. There's no way that he can beat us with just one hand," Scott said scornfully. "Now we had an agreement, and I expect you to keep it. I don't plan to throw away an entire month's pay because you're afraid--"

"All right, all right," Johnny interrupted. "Let's get it over with. I'm starvin' . . . and I'd still like tuh clean some of this trail dust off me before I eat."

Fighting to hold back a show of pleasure that might cause his sons to become suspicious, Murdoch said in a matter of fact tone, "I'm ready when you are, Boys. Just step inside the ring, and I'll be with you as soon as Jelly ties my hand to the back of my belt. Scott, Jelly'll need your bandanna. Oh, one more thing. Once in the ring, nobody leaves. If you do, you're out to stay--no coming back in. The last one standing inside the circle wins. Agreed?" Murdoch glanced from one son to the other.

"Agreed," responded Scott and Johnny as one before quickly removing their gun belts and hats and dropping them on the seat of a nearby wagon. They then stepped inside the circle of onlookers that was gradually growing in numbers.

Once his left hand was secured, Murdoch retrieved a whip from the holder at the front corner of one of the buggies. As he joined Scott and Johnny within the confines of their audience, he flexed his wrist a couple of times to get the feel of his weapon. The expressions of astonishment that he saw on the faces of his sons as the end of the lash cracked sharply brought a triumphant smile to his lips. There was only one possible outcome to this contest; the only question was how much punishment were his boys prepared to take before they sought the nearest avenue of escape.

Chapter 7 - Entertaining the Guests

Curious as to why her guests were leaving the courtyard and migrating toward where the buggies and wagons were parked, Teresa went to see what the attraction might be. As she approached the ring of people, she saw a small bearded man who appeared to be trying to push his way between two larger men in order to get inside the circle. "Jelly, you're back. Where're Scott and Johnny?" she called, startling the man to a stop.

"Oh, uh, T'resa. Happy birthday. Nice party, isn't it?" replied Jelly, shifting his eyes from her to the path he was trying to make and back to her once more.

Before she could inquire as to what was going on, she heard a loud snap followed by someone, who sounded to her just like Johnny, saying, "Hey, whatcha doin' with that? Nothin' was said about you havin' a whip."

"Nothing was said about my not having one either," came a deep voice that she was certain belonged to her guardian, Murdoch Lancer.

"What is going on, Jelly?" Teresa demanded, placing her hands on her hips.

Jelly's eyes shifted nervously. "Nothin'. Nothin' a tall for you tuh worry your pretty head about, anyhow."

"But that's Murdoch and Johnny I heard. What's Murdoch doing with a whip?"

"Now I told yuh. It ain't nothin'. Murdoch and the boys . . . well they're just havin' a little contest, is all."

"Well, I'm going to see for myself," she said, a determined set to her jaw. She then brushed by Jelly and began to work her way through the crowd that was rapidly growing as word spread that a fight was about to take place.

Tapping on shoulders and asking this person and that to allow her to pass, Teresa tried to push through the wall of people. After being jostled and bumped, and even having her toes stepped on once, she finally found herself lodged behind a tall skinny boy of her age and a heavy-set elderly man, whose shoulder she could easily peer over to view the goings on inside the arena lined with people. Her eyes widened in surprise and then clouded into a storm of anger at what she saw. Her guardian and his sons were having some sort of brawl in front of her guests.

Anxiously Teresa watched as Scott sidled toward his father's right while Johnny began to inch around the opposite way. Murdoch, back toward Teresa, was standing near the edge of the circle of spectators--whip pointing straight up. Suddenly, he took a quick sidestep toward his elder son and, with the flick of his wrist while extending his arm, popped Scott's thigh with the end of the lash. As Scott jumped backward, Johnny rushed in only to be met with the same.

The brothers moved to the far side of the ring and had a short conference while the crowd shouted encouragement and made wagers on the outcome. Next, Johnny ducked and made a wild dash straight for his father at the same instant that Scott circled to the left. Again the whip snaked out, this time catching Johnny in the right forearm. With a yelp, he clasped his arm with his other hand and scrambled back out of reach. Meanwhile, Scott dodged to the right as his shoulder met with the end of the lash.

For several minutes the dance continued. Murdoch remained fairly stationary except for the movement of his free arm as he cracked the whip to ward off his sons' continued efforts to get behind him. No matter what tactics were used, the two young men failed to get the best of their father; his accurately placed lash was always there to meet them.

At first, Teresa silently fumed at the very idea of her family fighting, especially at her birthday party. She made up her mind to give all three of the Lancer men a tongue-lashing that they would never forget. As she watched the contest of wills between father and sons, however, she gradually began to notice that the lash of the whip never once came into contact with the face or neck of either of brothers. Little by little, she relaxed. Obviously Murdoch had no intention of inflicting any more pain than was necessary to keep the two younger men at bay while they gradually tired themselves out with their constant ducking and dodging.

Soon, Teresa could see beads of moisture glistening on Johnny's and Scott's foreheads and their chests heaving as their breaths came in short puffs. Murdoch, on the other hand, appeared to be nearly as fresh as when the contest began. Having slowly maneuvered his way across the center of the arena while wielding the whip with controlled precision to drive his sons to the far side, he had expended far less energy than they had.

The noise of the crowd increased as Murdoch boxed his sons into an ever-diminishing area--the distance between the younger men slowly decreasing. The spectators, whooping and hollering encouragement to their chosen contestant, cheered the men on. Soon Teresa found herself being drawn into the excitement, as well. Certain that Murdoch had no intention of doing any serious damage to the younger men, she couldn't help hoping that he would be the victor. After all, he was outnumbered along with being handicapped by only having the use of one arm.

"Look out, Murdoch!" Teresa suddenly cried when Scott made a dash to get behind Murdoch while Johnny made a dive for the big man's legs. Holding her breath, she watched as her guardian quickly sidestepped the attack of his younger son then twisted toward the other son and deftly snapped the whip against that young man's legs to force him to keep his distance.

The cheering of the crowd all but drowned out the grunt that burst from Johnny as he lit on his chest in the dirt and skidded toward the side of the circle where Teresa stood. Before he could push himself up on hands and knees, the whip was cracking in his direction.

The lash popped loudly as it rapidly slapped against the seat of Johnny's pants. With an indignant howl--his hands grasping at the dirt and legs flailing wildly in an attempt to get his knees under him--Johnny scrambled to get his body out of reach of the punishing whip. There was no escape; only a few brief reprieves when his father took a moment to ward off Scott's advancements. Finally, in an act of desperation that brought a cheer from Teresa and those who were rooting for Murdoch, Johnny crawled into the forest of legs.

Seeing Scott make a dash around the edge of the circle and rush his father from behind when the man had momentarily turned his back to drive Johnny from the ring, Teresa let out a frantic scream. Her warning, however, was drowned out by the noise around her and her heart began to race as she watched Scott wrap his left arm around Murdoch's right and grab for the whip with his other hand.

What happened then, Teresa would never be sure of. In a blur of motion, Murdoch spun violently away from his son just as it appeared that the young man's fingers had closed around the slender rod of the whip. Pulled off balance, the momentum of Scott's forward rush carried his feet from under him--legs swinging outward in a wide counter-clockwise arc. His hand and arm then apparently lost their grip and the elder Lancer son went flying toward Jelly who had finally managed to push his way to the front of the line of onlookers.

The cheering of the crowd was deafening, and Teresa clapped her hands over her ears as she anxiously watched Scott and Jelly tumble to the ground in a heap, taking a couple of other men down with them. Murdoch stood blowing short, panting breaths a short distance away.

"You had enough, Son?" queried Murdoch a moment later while still waving the end of the whip.

Teresa drew in a sharp breath and held it as Scott slowly regained his feet and faced his father. She dreaded the conflict continuing. Someone was bound to be hurt; a thought that made her shudder.

Several people shouted encouragement for Scott to not give up. Upon starting to step toward his father, he stopped and glanced toward Teresa, whose face had paled as she fixed pleading eyes on him. She let out a deep sigh, when with a shake of his head, he threw up his hands and said, "You win, Murdoch." He then dropped his hands to his side and, with a hint of a smile, added, "I think I'll go clean up and change into something a little more appropriate."

As Scott turned to make his way past the noisy people who were crowding forward to congratulate the winner, Teresa pushed her way to his side. "Are you all right?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern as her small hand touched his arm.

"Nothing's hurt but my pride," he answered ruefully. "At least that should heal without leaving any scars." He patted her hand and gave her a reassuring smile then added, "Don't worry. I'll be good as new once I've had a bath and changed into some clean clothes. Now why don't you go see what you can do about the victor's swelled head before it explodes? I want to get my tub filled before Johnny takes all of the hot water."

Quickly looking around for her guardian's younger son, Teresa spotted him, limping slightly and holding onto one elbow as he disappeared from sight behind the solid wood of the front door when he closed it. Despite her concern, she couldn't help but chuckle. Johnny and Scott were going to have a hard time living down the fact that Murdoch had beaten them with the use of only one hand. It would be weeks, even months, before they could show their faces anywhere in the county without having someone snickering behind their backs.

I'm not sorry a bit for them, two grown men ganging up on their father that way. They deserve a little humiliation, thought Teresa as she watched Scott walk away before she went to congratulate Murdoch.

Getting through the line of people gathered around her guardian soon proved impossible, so Teresa collected his jacket from the buggy, where it had been draped over the seat, and waited on the sidelines for her guests to return to the courtyard.

Once the well-wishers were finally gone, Teresa moved to Murdoch's side and held out his coat for him to slip his arms into the sleeves. Silently she straightened his collar and threaded the middle two buttons through the appropriate buttonholes. Finally satisfied with Murdoch's appearance, she took a step backward and, with arms crossed, surveyed her guardian. "I should be furious, you know," she scolded. "Three grown men acting like children. What if one of you had been hurt? And what must our guests think? Father and sons fighting."

"I'm sorry, Teresa," Murdoch replied contritely, placing an arm around her shoulders. "I should have let it go until another time. Only . . .."

"They pushed you into it," she finished for him, wrapping an arm around his waist. With a softly lilting laugh, she gave him a squeeze then pulled away enough to look up into his face once more. "Have you ever see Johnny move so fast? And the look on Scott's face when he was trying to untangle himself from Jelly was priceless. It's going to be a long time before those two ever think about tackling you again. I am curious though. What was it all about? I mean why . . .."

"They made a bet with Jelly that I couldn't whip them with one hand. I suppose if they hadn't been so smug about it, I would have let it pass."

"But they were too sure of themselves, right, so you just had to prove them wrong," she stated.

Murdoch chuckled softly. "Well . . . they have been getting a little too big for their britches lately. I figured I might as well take them down a notch while I had the opportunity." In a more serious tone, he added, "I didn't mean to spoil your party, though."

"You didn't," Teresa replied with a reassuring smile. "In fact, I think it was a wonderful present. I'm sure everyone loved the entertainment and understood there wasn't any hostility between your sons and you. Besides, the next time those two try teasing me in front of company, all I'll have to do is remind them of how weak they are."

"Now, Honey, you wouldn't really try to embarrass them that way, would you?" Murdoch gently chided.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" At this declaration of hers, they both laughed.

"Well," said Murdoch, holding out his arm for Teresa to take hold of. "Shall we join your guests and see if that beef is ready to eat?"

Teresa smiled as she linked her arm with his, her small hand resting lightly just above his wrist. With a cheerful laugh, she then let him lead her back to the stone walled courtyard where Murdoch's crafty handling of his sons was the main topic of discussion. She had been right; Johnny and Scott would be a long time living down their failure to get the best of their father in a contest where they no doubt had anticipated the odds being in their favor. It was a lesson she was sure that neither would soon forget.

Chapter 8 - Consequences of Battles Won and Lost

The throbbing of his nose was by far the worst of his pains--overriding the ache in his leg where the mule's pack had hit him and the tingling of his elbow that had gotten bumped when he had skidded across the ground on his belly just minutes before. His cheek was also stinging, which he assumed was from his face rubbing in the dirt. In addition, numerous other places on his arms, body, and legs smarted from having come in contact with the end of the whip his father had handled so expertly.

"So much for Scott and his sure things," Johnny Lancer muttered, upon arriving at his bedroom. Vowing he would never again agree to take part in one of his older brother's crazy schemes, he reached out to grasp the doorknob only to have his hand came up empty as the door swung open.

"Ai-yi-yi!" exclaimed Maria, the Mexican woman who often helped with the housework and cooking. She then burst into a rattle of Spanish--speaking so rapidly that Johnny almost couldn't keep up with what she was saying.

When Maria finally paused for a breath, Johnny assured her that his nose was not broken, that he only hurt a little, and that a soak in a tub of warm water along with a change of clothes was all that was needed to make him good as new. She fussed over him a while longer before finally, to his relief, leaving to see to Scott's bath. Johnny's was ready and waiting for him just inside his room.

A few minutes later as Johnny was climbing into the wooden tub that had been set up in the middle of the floor, he grimaced at the spot he saw on his left thigh. An area the size of his hand was already turning a deep bluish-purple. The mule's pack had evidently hit him much harder than he had realized. At least nobody'll see that one, he thought, easing into the hot water.

Once he was submersed to his shoulders, the heat from the water soaked into his skin and Johnny began to feel drowsy. He scrunched down a little farther and rested the back of his neck against the lip of the tub. It would have been so easy to fall asleep, but he knew that wasn't an option. There was a party to go to, and Teresa would be terribly disappointed if he didn't show up.

Johnny treated himself to a few more minutes of quiet relaxation then cautiously washed the dirt and grime of two days on the trail from his body. More than once, he winced at the tenderness of his skin. Although his father hadn't inflicted any lasting damage on him, the man hadn't been exactly gentle either. Johnny couldn't help wondering just how far Murdoch had been prepared to go in order to win.

Twenty minutes later, Johnny was dressed in his newest pair of black pants, which were buttoned down the outside of each leg, and a gold-trimmed matching short jacket that was open to show off the embroidered front of his best white shirt. As he stood surveying his already swollen nose and purpling cheek, there was a light knock on the door. "Yeah?" he called, glancing over his shoulder.

The door opened and his brother, Scott, stepped part way through. "You ready to go down?"

"Yeah. Just gotta comb my hair," Johnny replied, turning back toward his dresser and picking up the comb that was lying next to the water pitcher. He then ran it through his thick dark hair as Scott entered and walked over to stand next to him.

In the mirror, Johnny saw his brother reach toward him. Long fingers brushed the discolored scrape on his cheek as a drawling voice that sounded very much like his own reached his ears.

"That's, uh . . . quite a bruise yuh got there. A memento of your daring ride . . . or was it compliments of our old man?"

Pulling away, Johnny scowled at his brother. "Think you're funny, don't yuh," he retorted.

"Little testy aren't we, Brother?"

"No, Scott . . . I just don't like bein' reminded of what a fool I was for lettin' yuh talk me into takin' on Murdoch . . . that's all."

"If you hadn't given up so easily, we would've had him."

Johnny shook his head then spoke with more intensity. "No way. You saw how he was. He was set on winnin' and would've taken the hide off of us if need be."

"I don't think he would have gone that far," scoffed Scott. "He was being pretty careful how he used that whip."

"Careful! I've got welts all over me."

"Oh, come on. You're exaggerating and you know it. He didn't hit you any harder than he did me. Besides, you've had worse and didn't give up. Just last month, you were dusted good and hard by that bay filly you brought in with the last bunch of wild horses. You couldn't even walk straight, but it sure didn't keep you from climbing back on her. Murdoch didn't punish you anywhere near as much as she did."

"Is that so? Well . . . I noticed you quit soon enough once he tossed yuh into Jelly. What was the matter; the landin' wasn't soft enough for yuh?" Johnny's tone by now was filled with sarcasm.

"I would have kept after him if I hadn't seen that Teresa was watching. She was looking a little pale, and I didn't want to ruin her party," Scott replied defensively.

"Think yuh could still whip our old man, is that it?"

"Anytime you boys care for another go at it, you just let me know. I'd be glad to accommodate you," said a deep voice that startled the brothers into looking toward the now open doorway into the hall.

"Not me, Murdoch. I don't need to be told when the deck's stacked against me," Johnny quickly answered, his eyes meeting his father's before nodding his head toward his brother. "It's Scott here that don't know when to throw in his cards when he's holdin' a losin' hand."

Murdoch Lancer eyed the elder of his sons. "Scott?"

"I think I'll pass for now, Murdoch. That beef smells too delicious at the moment, so I think I'll go on down and join the party." Scott moved toward the door, hesitated, and looked over his shoulder. "Coming, Brother?"

"You go on ahead. I'll be along shortly," Johnny said, almost chuckling at his brother's hurried excuse to leave. Turning back toward the mirror, he saw his father's reflection behind his own, took a nervous breath, and then waited for the other man to speak his mind.

"You all right, Son? That nose looks a little swollen. Maybe, Sam should take a look at it. It could be broken," Murdoch said after a moment of silence.

"It's fine, Murdoch . . . just sore is all."

"I guess you lit a little hard. I uh . . .."

"Stop frettin' about it; it wasn't your fault. Besides, I'm fine, I told yuh. Now why don't yuh go on back to the party. You don't want all them people thinkin' you've cut out on 'em, do yuh? I said I'd be along in a minute or two, and I will," Johnny quickly interjected, not letting Murdoch finish. From the concern he saw in the other's face, Johnny was certain the man had started to make an apology of some sort, and he felt a twinge of guilt over allowing his father to continue thinking that his injuries were all a result of their confrontation.

Murdoch still hesitated to go; however, when his son assured him one more time that he was all right, the man turned and walked out of the room--one backward glance before closing the door behind him.

Shortly thereafter, when Johnny headed downstairs, a slight limp accompanied each step because his leg was hurting a little more than it had been before he had taken his bath. Thinking back on it, he was certain that the discolored area had been larger when he had gotten out of the tub than before getting in, and he wondered if soaking in hot water might have done more harm than good. There was nothing he could do for it, however, so he resigned himself to hiding his discomfort as best he could. The last thing he wanted was for his father to insist on having Sam Jenkins look at it. The Doctor was too smart to be fooled into believing that injury had happened during the contest between Murdoch and his sons. Johnny had landed belly down, not on his side, and Sam had been watching at the time.

Forcing himself to put his weight evenly on each leg, Johnny entered the courtyard a few minutes later. He grinned and waved to Teresa, nodded acknowledgements to a couple of girls her age who shyly smiled at him, and greeted a few of the other guests as he made his way to the tables of food. Once his plate was loaded, he then found a place on the sidelines to sit down and relax while eating.

Chapter 9 - One Less Birthday Present

Consisting of savory barbecued beef, roasted potatoes, baked beans, a salad of leafy lettuce, chopped carrots, onions, and freshly shelled peas, along with butter and strawberry preserves to smother enormous yeast rolls, the barbecue proved to be a huge success. Johnny Lancer, feeling a bit stuffed, stood for a while with his shoulder leaning against one of the stone pillars that supported the porch roof and watched as Teresa coerced first Murdoch and then Scott and Jelly to dance with her. That she was having the time of her life was plain to see, and he couldn't help smiling.

If Johnny thought that he would be spared his turn at whirling Teresa around in his arms, he was mistaken. Upon the conclusion of a fast reel, she appeared at his side and insisted that he join her for the next waltz. Reluctantly, he gave in. Although his leg was still aching and he didn't like being the center of attention when it came to dancing, it was her birthday so he felt he couldn't refuse her request.

The tune was slow, fortunately for Johnny. If it hadn't been, he was sure he would never have managed without Teresa noticing how much his leg was bothering him. When he did falter or make an occasional hurried step, he just grinned and begged her pardon--claiming that being tired must be what was making him a bit clumsy. Hearing the music come to a stop, as far as he was concerned, was the best thing that had happened to him all day. Thanking her for the dance and then quickly excusing himself, he headed into the shadows before one of the other girls, who had been ogling him all evening, tried nabbing him.

When it came time for Teresa to open her gifts close to an hour later, Johnny was glad the party was winding down. His head was beginning to ache and his leg was hurting worse. There was nothing he wanted more than to crawl into bed and sleep until morning.

Since the presents they had brought home were in his bedroom, Johnny lead the way as his brother and Jelly went with him to retrieve them. Shortly thereafter, standing near the end of his bed with arms crossed and eyes glaring at his brother, Johnny shook his head and firmly declared, "No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!" insisted Scott in an equally determined manner.

"Nope," Johnny adamantly stated. "No way are you talkin' me into that."

"Come on Johnny. Yer actin' like a two-year old. Now this ain't that big a deal," said Jelly Hoskins, a long strip of light blue silk draped over his arm.

Shifting his eyes, Johnny looked coldly at Jelly and retorted, "Then you do it. After all, you're the one that shot up Teresa's presents."

With a huff, Jelly wagged a finger in Johnny's face. "It was yer life I was savin'. . . in case yuh already fergot. 'Sides that, yer the one that got her this . . . so you oughta be the one wearin' it."

"Jelly is right, Johnny. If he hadn't shot that rattlesnake, you'd be dead by now . . . so it's only logical that you be the one who does this," reasoned Scott.

"Yeah? Well what about Jelly and me savin' your skin?" Johnny demanded, moving back a step while fixing his eyes on his brother again. "Way I figure it, you owe me. Just remember it was me that shot two of those snakes that was fixin' tuh poke holes in your hide. The one you got wasn't even close tuh me."

"You forget, Brother," said Scott, his voice rising in pitch as well as volume. "If I hadn't been trying to find the first one Jelly shot, I wouldn't have been in any danger."

"See, Johnny? There just ain't no way around it. It was yer pet rattler that started the whole thing, so it's only fittin' you be the one tuh--."

"Wasn't my pet," Johnny snapped. "I didn't ask him tuh crawl inta bed with me."

"Don't you have those presents wrapped yet?" boomed a deep voice as the door to Johnny's bedroom swung open. Murdoch stepped into view then cast a quick glance at each of the three men. "The guests are all waiting for Teresa to open her gifts so the cake can be served. It's getting late and some people have quite a ways to travel."

"We're working on it, Murdoch," Scott quickly assured him. "It'll only be a few minutes, if Johnny will just cooperate a little."

"I'll tell Teresa you'll be down in five minutes," Murdoch said as he began to withdraw.

"Five minutes!" chorused the three.

"Yes, five minutes," Murdoch sternly replied before disappearing from sight.

"We'll be there," called Scott as his father pulled the door closed. Turning to his brother, he said, "You heard the man. We don't have any more time to waste. Now will you just hold still while Jelly and I wrap this around you. If Murdoch has to come looking for us again, he's liable to bring that buggy whip with him. You don't want that, do you?"

"Yeah, Johnny. I'd think you'd had the seat o' yer britches warmed enough fer one day. It's liable tuh be a week before yuh can sit down as it is."

Johnny backed away as Jelly stepped toward him. "I'd rather take a whompin' any day than be seen in that get-up the two of you got in mind."

Scott moved to cut off his brother's one avenue of escape--the open window. "Johnny, it's not going to hurt you in the least."

"That's what yuh said about our takin' on our old man . . . and look how that came out," grumbled Johnny, glowering at Scott.

"How was I to know that he'd have the forethought to acquire a weapon?" Scott defensively demanded.

"That's my point. You didn't think. Well you're not gettin' me tuh cooperate with any more your crazy ideas."

"Now hold on, Brother. Whose idea was it to go see Lucinda? Just remember if it wasn't for me, a package with a few ribbons in it would be all that Teresa would be opening."

"In case yuh don't know it, yuh already done used up half that five minutes, so yuh best be makin' up yer mind which o' yuh's gunna put this on."

Johnny scowled at Jelly then let out a noisy breath. As a way out came to mind, he looked speculatively at Scott. "How about we toss for it? Jelly gets the loser. Okay?"

Scott hesitated before slowly replying, "I'll go along with that on one condition."

"What?" Johnny asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I'll be the winner if it's heads; you'll be the loser if it's tails. Agreed?"

"What if I want heads?" Johnny warily searched his brother's face for some sign of trickery.

"No problem. I don't mind being the winner if it's tails and allowing you to be the loser if it's heads. Now are you happy?"

Wearily letting out a soft sigh, Johnny reluctantly nodded then reached into his pocket for a coin. Something was telling him that Scott was not to be trusted, but with the pounding in his head, he couldn't seem to grasp just what sort of trick his brother was up to.

"I'll do the tossin' . . . just tuh keep you boys honest," Jelly remarked, with his hand extended toward Johnny.

With a shrug, Johnny handed over the twenty-dollar gold piece.

Jelly quickly examined both sides of the coin. "Looks fine tuh me," he stated before flipping it into the air. As all three men watched, the golden orb rose almost to the ceiling and then tumbled down to land in Jelly's open palm. "Tails," he announced.

"Whoopy! Scott, you sure are gunna look pretty wearin' that big blue bow," Johnny proclaimed, starting to dance a little jig, which ended immediately as pain shot through his leg, so he gave his brother a light punch in the gut instead.

Scott just smiled then tapped a finger against Johnny's chest. "Not me, Brother. You."

"Whatcha mean, me?" demanded Johnny, folding his arms across his chest once more. "It wasn't heads so I ain't the loser."

"Yes, yuh are Johnny," Jelly cut in. "Yuh agreed tails was the winner. Scott's tails so that makes yuh the loser."

"Now wait a minute, that's cheatin'. I'm the loser either way," protested Johnny, attempting to move away from the other men only to find that he had already backed up as far as he could go.

"Yuh shoulda thought o' that before yuh agreed. It's too late now tuh be cryin' over spilt milk," Jelly admonished as he handed one end of the strip of cloth to Scott, who lifted it up over Johnny's shoulder. "Now stand still so's we can get this done before Murdoch shows up again. I don't know about you, but I'd like tuh be able tuh eat a piece o' that cake. Teresa said it was gunna be decorated with whole strawberries."

"Oh, all right. Get it done," Johnny grumbled to Jelly then turned his head and fixed cold eyes on his brother. "Just remember, Brother . . . you're gunna pay for trickin' me inta this. I don't know how and I don't when, but I will get even. That's a promise."

A couple minutes later, as he was being ushered from his room by the other two men, Johnny caught a glimpse of himself in his dresser mirror. The sashes of blue silk, wrapped around his waist and crisscrossing his chest, looked rather dashing despite the tiny holes caused by the shattering of Scott's bottle of perfume, but the big bow at his throat made him look ridiculous. Right then he decided that Teresa was going to be minus one present. Dying from a rattlesnake bite would have been better than going through with the scheme his brother and Jelly had cooked up.

Pretending to go along willingly with Scott and Jelly, Johnny started down the hall. He was almost to the staircase that would take them down to the main entryway, when he heard voices coming from the vicinity of the foot of the stairs. Without a second of hesitation, he twisted free of the hands that cupped his elbows, whirled, and dashed for the far end of the hallway. In his haste, he didn't even notice the pain in his leg.

With Scott and Jelly in rapid pursuit, Johnny turned the corner and raced to the back stairway. He grabbed the handrail and swung his body forward to land several steps down. Repeating the process a couple more times, he reached the bottom far ahead of the other two men. Here he hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting this way and that for the best possible escape.

Footsteps coming from the direction of the kitchen, which was straight ahead, immediately eliminated the closest exit to the outside. With no other option, Johnny turned and ran past the stairwell and down a short hallway in hopes of reaching the door at the other end before his brother and the hired man could see where he had gone. Part way there, he noticed the door to the wine cellar on his left.

A quick glance behind him assured him that his brother and Jelly weren't in sight yet, so Johnny jerked the door open far enough to slip through then shut it partway while peeking out to see if he was being followed. When he saw Scott and Jelly hurry on past without slowing down, he quietly closed the door and leaned his head against it while letting a long breath whistle softly between parted lips.

Knowing his pursuers would soon return to search for him, Johnny didn't bask in his relief for long. He shoved himself away from the cellar door and made a quick pivot as he stepped toward the stairs that would take him down to the room where the wine and brandy bottles were stored along with various other food-supplies that needed to be kept cool. Suddenly, in mid-stride, he found himself looking into the eyes of his father, who was standing one step below him.

Johnny sharply sucked in his breath while grabbing for Murdoch's arm to keep from losing his balance then backed up a step. With his throat feeling as though he had swallowed his heart, he shut his eyes and let out a soft groan.

Chapter 10 - Tracking Down the Gifts

One of the bottles of wine under Murdoch's arm slipped from his unfeeling grasp and fell to the cellar floor. Murdoch didn't even hear the crash. His full attention was on his startled son as the young man took a backward step and said, "Sorry, Murdoch. I didn't know anyone was in here."

The laugh threatening to burst forth at the spectacle before him was almost too much to contain, but somehow Murdoch choked it back. His eyes, however, refused to relinquish their glint of amusement as he raised one of the bottles he was holding. "I thought we might need some more wine," he hastily explained.

Johnny's only response was a nervous glance at the door.

Murdoch thoughtfully rubbed a thumb along the side of his nose then moved up beside his son on the landing. "I think I'll see if I can track down Teresa's presents." He reached for the doorknob with one hand and waved the other toward the room below. "When you're finished down there, would you mind bringing up another bottle of wine with you? Might save making another trip later."

"I don't mind," replied Johnny, stiffening at the sound of footsteps outside the cellar door.

"Good." Murdoch gave his son's arm a quick squeeze while gripping the doorknob more tightly to keep it from being turned from the outside and added, "Oh . . . if Teresa asks, I'll tell her you'll be along shortly."

Johnny opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it when the door rattled and a voice on the other side demanded entrance. Murdoch, seeing the apprehension in his son's eyes, motioned for the young man to get on down the stairs. He then waited just long enough for Johnny to get out of sight before releasing the doorknob then moving out of the way as the door swung inward.

Scott stumbled into his father. "Oh . . . Murdoch, it's you," he said as he recovered his balance and stepped back--his cheeks much redder than normal.

"We were running a little low on wine, so I thought I'd get some while I had the chance." Murdoch stepped forward to block the open doorway then shifted his gaze from his son to the hired man at Scott's side and back again. "Where's Johnny?" he abruptly asked.

"I . . . uh . . . then you haven't seen him?" Scott stammered.

"If I had, would I be asking?" Murdoch countered impatiently in an attempt to cover his amusement at his son's uneasiness and the guilt that was written on Jelly's face despite the man's effort to appear unconcerned.

"No . . . it's just that . . . well, Jelly and I saw him come this way. He didn't go outside, so we thought he might be in the wine cellar." Scott shrugged before continuing. "I guess if he was, though, you'd have seen him."

"He could o' hid under the stairs 'til we was past him then went out the other way," suggested Jelly.

"Never mind Johnny," Murdoch said in a dismissive tone that quickly became demanding. "Do you have Teresa's gifts ready?"

Scott moved back to allow his father room enough to step through the doorway then hesitantly replied, "Yes, but . . . uh . . .. "

"Good," Murdoch interrupted while closing the cellar door behind him. Gesturing for the other two men to lead the way, he commandingly said, "Let's go get them. The guests are waiting."

"What about Johnny?" protested Jelly.

"Johnny's a big boy. I'm sure he can take care of himself," Murdoch curtly replied, looking down on the hired man. "Right now we have more important things to attend to. Teresa is waiting to open her gifts. Besides . . . I'm sure Johnny'll be along shortly."

Jelly incoherently muttered something under his breath then followed Scott's lead. Murdoch, tagging along behind, found it hard not to laugh. From their obvious disappointment, he was certain that Scott and Jelly were the reason for Johnny's strange attire. Murdoch shook his head. Although there was no evidence that either of the men in front of him had been in a fight, he found it surprising that his younger son had agreed to their scheme without one. It was no wonder to him, however, that Johnny had ducked out on them. The boy would have been the laughing stock of the ranch hands and most of the people in the county if he had put in an appearance tied up like a birthday package. Not only that, Teresa might have been embarrassed.

Upon reaching the staircase that led up the back way to the upper level of the house, Scott stopped and twisted around to face his father. "There's no need for you go up with us, Sir. Jelly and I can get the presents out of Johnny's room and meet you in the courtyard. It'll only take us a couple minutes."

Murdoch smiled and shook his head. "I think I'll go along . . . just to make sure you don't get sidetracked."

"Boss, we don't need no babysitter. There ain't no way we're gunna get lost," Jelly indignantly interjected.

"Jelly, you're wasting time." Murdoch scowled impatiently at the smaller man.

"Well, if you're goin', there ain't no need o' my tired legs havin' tuh go back up there. I'll just go on outside an' wait for yuh."

Murdoch raised a hand to his mouth and coughed to hide the twitching of his mouth then forced his voice to remain steady. "Isn't your gift up there, too?"

"Yeah . . . but Scott can get it for me. Can't yuh, Scott?" Jelly's nervous eyes shifted from Murdoch to plead with the young man ahead of them.

"Yes, I--"

"We'll all go." Murdoch motioned toward the top of stairs as his stern voice effectively cut off the rest of whatever his son had intended to say.

Once again Scott led the way with Jelly second and Murdoch following behind to see that no more detours were taken. The presents were soon collected, and the three men headed down the front stairs. As they reached went out the main entry door, they found Johnny waiting on the porch--a broad grin brightening his face.

Murdoch smiled at his younger son, who looked even more like a Mexican cabellero now that the long strip of pale blue, silk fabric was wrapped around the waist of his Spanish style pants.

"About time you got here with the presents. Teresa's talkin' about sendin' out a search party." Johnny's eyes twinkled merrily as he regarded his brother.

"Very funny," Scott shot back with a warning glare.

Although he was enjoying the interaction between his sons, Murdoch gave each a stern glance. "Boys, Teresa is waiting."

"Well . . . yuh heard the man. Let's go. It ain't nice tuh keep the little lady waitin' . . . 'specially on her birthday," said Johnny, looking at first Jelly then Scott before bowing while sweeping one hand out to the side.

Jelly grumbled under his breath but stepped into the lead with Johnny and Scott right behind him. Murdoch, a smile softening his face, once more brought up the rear.

As Murdoch followed his sons around the corner and into the courtyard, he couldn't help admiring them. In his opinion, they made a dashing twosome. Scott with his lighter hair, refined facial features, and stylish brown suit was a pleasing contrast to the equally handsome, darker brother who was dressed in the manner of his Spanish ancestry. Murdoch then shuddered a little when he recalled the story Jelly had told him of how close he had come to losing one or both of them that day. He was certain Teresa would feel as he did: that the intended gifts were a small sacrifice in light of what could have been.

Chapter 11 - Unwrapping the Presents

Tapping her foot as she stood with her back to the long table that held her birthday cake and an array of gifts--paper wrappings folded in a pile at one end of the table--Teresa O'Brien glanced around the courtyard. Her eyes passed over the heads of the clusters of people surrounding her and delved into each shadowy corner. Still there was no sign of the man who had treated her like a daughter since her father's death over a year and a half ago. He wasn't there. If he were, she would have seen him. At six foot five inches, Murdoch Lancer was the tallest man there.

Her brow puckered a little. She couldn't imagine why Murdoch hadn't returned. He had told her that he would be back in a few minutes and that she should go ahead and start opening her presents. That had been well over a quarter of an hour ago, and still there was no sign of him or the three men he'd gone to find.

Surely it can't be taking this long for Jelly and the boys to wrap their gifts, unless . . .. Teresa, her mind whirling with possibilities, forced a smile when a woman near her commented on the lovely assortment of embroidered handkerchiefs, dresser scarves, and other items that would be a welcome addition to any girl's hope-chest. Barely listening, Teresa nodded in agreement while continuing to watch for the four men who were now her family.

When Teresa was about to the point of setting out in search of her men folk, she saw them enter the courtyard. Jelly, in front, was wearing his best suit and a striped shirt, and she thought he looked quite nice for a man of his age. A smile then tugged at her lips. Close on Jelly's heels were her guardian's sons, different as night and day in so many ways, yet equally handsome as far as she was concerned. Behind them was Murdoch, tall, neatly dressed, and looking every bit the patriarch that he was. She almost laughed at the way he seemed to be herding the other three in front of him.

Jelly reached her first and made his apology for keeping her waiting--the accusing glance he gave Johnny making her wonder what had really delayed them. The fleeting thought, however, was gone the instant the bearded man placed the brown paper wrapped package, tied with a couple of colorful ribbons, in her hand.

"Happy Birthday, Miss Teresa. It ain't exactly what I had in mind, but I hope yuh like it." As he stepped back to stand next to Scott, Jelly again frowned in Johnny's direction.

"I'm sure I'll love it," Teresa assured him, carefully untying the ribbons and laying them on the table before removing the wrapping. "Oh!" she exclaimed with a sharp intake of air.

"If yuh don't like it, I can get yuh somethin' else."

Teresa quickly laid a hand lightly on Jelly's arm. "Oh, no," she said, her eyes linking with his. "I've always wanted a snakeskin hatband." Her gaze shifted to the open package resting on the palm of her other hand, and her mind replayed the story she'd overheard earlier. "Is this the snake that . . .?" She paused and shuddered--the thought too horrifying to finish.

"Look Teresa. If yuh don't want it, jest say so, and I can get yuh somethin' else the next time I'm in town."

"No, Jelly. I love it. Really I do. I've always wanted one of these for my hat, and this one will be extra special because it'll remind me of what you did for Johnny." Throwing her arms around Jelly's neck, Teresa hugged him tight in an attempt to convince him that she meant every word.

When Teresa released him, Jelly offered to stretch the skin out on a board to dry. Readily agreeing, she handed it to him with her fingertips and then silently scolded herself for acting as though the thing would bite her. She knew that the problem was not that she had an aversion to snakes; what made her weak at the sight of this particular one was the knowledge that it could so easily have caused the death of someone she loved. Still, it was a gift of love from a man she thought of as a member of her family, and as such she would cherish it forever.

As Jelly moved away, Scott stepped forward and handed Teresa a tissue wrapped package. "This is from Murdoch, Johnny, and I. It isn't much, I know; but it's all that could be salvaged," he said apologetically. "It's part of the reason we were so late getting here. I rode on ahead to Maria's son's place; however, it took a little longer for Lucinda to make this than I had anticipated."

"Thank you. I know I'll love it." Teresa flashed him a reassuring smile then proceeded to carefully open up the thin sheets of paper. As she laid back the edges, a sparkle appeared in eyes. "Oh," she softly breathed as she lifted up a light-blue, silk scarf and matching rosette hair bow--its long streamers dangling from between her fingers. "They're lovely."

"The fabric was Johnny's gift. Unfortunately, most of the cloth was ruined when the bottle of perfume that I bought for you shattered," Scott explained then pointed out each item as he talked. "The faceted piece of glass, hanging from that dark-blue ribbon that came from Jelly, was the stopper. Murdoch's contribution is the locket that Lucinda attached in the center of the rosette. I realize that you can see the dent caused by the bullet, but she did tuck it into the folds enough that it's not noticeable unless you look at it closely."

"It's absolutely beautiful," Teresa said, fingering one of the loops made from the delicate gold chain that she assumed was part of the locket. Then upon closer inspection, she cried, "Oh, look! It has the Lancer 'L' on the front."

"Actually, it's an 'L' inside of an O'Brien 'O'," Murdoch stated, moving a little closer to her. "I had it specially designed by Ed Burgess in Sacramento. The locket opens, too. You might want to see what's inside."

Teresa, her fingers trembling a little from the excitement, opened the locket and stared in awe at the pictures. A moment later, her arms were tightly clasped around Murdoch's waist, and tears of joy were trickling down her cheeks. When she was finally able to talk, she released him and stepped back while wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I love it," she sniffed. "This is the picture of Daddy and me that was taken on my fifteenth birthday . . . and I've wanted one of you and your sons ever since that photographer was here earlier this year."

Murdoch cleared his throat. "I had your name engraved on the back . . . but I don't suppose you'll be able to see it."

"Yes, you can," Scott interjected then reached out and raised the lower edge of the locket as he continued to talk. "The locket is only attached by the loop the chain goes through. Lucinda fixed it that way so you could lift it up and see the back."

After seeing for herself, Teresa smiled at each of the Lancer men. "It's a wonderful present. Thank you," she said in a quiet voice filled with emotion before giving them each a hug, ending with the youngest.

"Scott's the one that thought it up," Johnny told her as she pulled away from him. "Just goes tuh show yuh he did learn somethin' useful back there in Boston."

Scott's chin tilted upward as he looked scathingly at his brother. "I'll have you know that I learned a lot of worthwhile things in Boston," he asserted.

"Yeah, well one of 'em wasn't how to bet on a sure thing," Johnny softly drawled, cautiously running a finger over the scraped spot on his cheek that was already turning blue.

When a murmur of chuckles and giggles spread through the guests, Scott made a move toward Johnny. Murdoch, quickly stepping between his sons, then placed a hand on a shoulder of each of the young men and said, "Speaking of bets, you each owe Teresa a month's salary."

Johnny tipped his head up to meet his father's eyes. "Why, Teresa?"

"Jelly agreed that I should get half of the winnings . . . although, I must admit that victory was ample reward." Murdoch chuckled before dropping his hands back to his sides and continuing. "I'm giving my share of the money to Teresa, and Jelly's offered to do the same. The way I look at it, it's a gift from the four of us."

"That's very generous of the both of you." Scott smiled up at Murdoch.

"Well, it is Teresa's birthday. Any money earned from our, uh . . . entertainment of her guests rightly should go to her, don't you agree?"

"I couldn't agree more, Sir," replied Scott with a nod.

"So . . . Teresa, what're yuh gunna do with all that money?" Johnny asked, taking a sauntering step to her side and draping an arm over her shoulder.

"I . . . I don't know," Teresa replied still dazed by the generosity of her guardian and Jelly. Teresa lifted her brown eyes to gaze into pools of deep blue. She skewed her mouth then smiled as an idea formed in her mind. "Oh, I know. You can take me with you when you take those horses to that sale in Sacramento the week after next. Emily Martin told me about this wonderful emporium for ladies. I'm sure I could find something very nice there." Her pleading eyes focused more intently on Johnny. "You will take me, won't you."

"Uh, well, I would . . . but uh . . . Sacramento's a big town. It wouldn't be safe for you to be wanderin' around by yourself, and I'm gunna be tied to that sale 'til dark both days." Johnny paused to chew at his lip then glanced over at his brother before flashing the girl a reassuring smile. "But . . . Scott could go along and take yuh around."

As Teresa brought her eyes to bear on the older of the brothers, Scott shot Johnny a dark scowl. He then looked at their father and said, "I'm sure Murdoch wouldn't want both of us gone. We'll be starting to cut hay and it's my job to see that it gets hauled and properly stored for the winter. Also, the cattle have to be moved on up into the mountains . . . and--"

"We wouldn't even be gone a week," interrupted Johnny. "You could be spared that long . . . couldn't he, Murdoch?" As he finished, he turned his pleading eyes on his father.

Murdoch rubbed his chin and drew in a long slow breath then, letting it out, replied, "Yes . . . I think the ranch could get by without you both for a few days. Cipriano can handle the crew moving the cattle, and Jelly and I can supervise the cutting and hauling of the hay.

"Why don't you go instead of me, Sir? It'd give you a chance to relax . . . show Teresa around. I'm sure she'd enjoy going to the capital and several other sites besides the emporium. You know the history so much better than I do, so you'd be a much better guide."

"You'll do just fine," Murdoch said with a light slap to Scott's shoulder. "Besides, I have to be here that week. The ranchers in the area are calling a special meeting of the Association to discuss what can be done to keep the price of cattle from dropping further. It's important that I be there."

"But--"

"Scott, this can all be worked out later. Everyone is waiting for Teresa to cut the cake."

Teresa smiled and slowly shook her head at the smug grin on Johnny's face. Obviously he assumed that his brother would not get out of being her chaperone for the trip to Sacramento. The arrangement was fine with her. She enjoyed Scott's company and, not only that, he wouldn't be fidgeting and hurrying her along.

After thanking everyone for attending her party and expressing her gratitude for all of the wonderful gifts, Teresa moved to the other end of the table and picked up the knife by the cake. She cut five slices then placed them on plates and handed the four larger pieces out to Murdoch, his sons, and Jelly while keeping the smaller one for herself. She then handed the knife over to Juanita who would finish cutting and dishing up the cake for the guests. After picking up her own plate, she then joined her family at one of the other tables.

Chapter 12 - The Best Birthday Gift

The party wound down shortly after the cake was served and soon the birthday guests began to leave. A few lingered--the men talking to Murdoch about the impending meeting of the California Cattle Growers Association while the women and older girls admired Teresa's gifts. Finally, about nine o'clock, the last buggy pulled away from the hacienda. Teresa, with the help of Scott and Jelly, collected her presents and took them inside where they placed them at one end of the dining table.

Having carefully laid down the rosette hair-ribbon and spread the long streamers out so they wouldn't become wrinkled, Teresa smiled at the two men. "Thank you," she said then glanced around the room as her brow puckered. "Where's Johnny? I haven't seen him since we had our cake."

"Oh, he's 'round here someplace. Prob'ly just made hisself scarce so's not tuh have tuh do any the pickin' up," the whiskered man groused.

"No, Jelly," said Scott, a speculative expression on his face. "I don't think that's it at all. Teresa's right. I haven't seen him for well over an hour."

"Maybe, he's gone to bed," suggested Teresa. "He didn't look like he was feeling very well." She then studied the two men a little more closely. "Are you sure something didn't happen to him on the way home? I don't see how he could have hit his nose hard enough to make it swell up the way it is. I was watching, and his face was toward me when he skidded across the ground."

"Now, Miss Teresa. If Johnny'd been hurt on the way home, don't yuh think we'd a know'd it?" blustered Jelly.

"Oh, I suppose, but . . .."

Jelly moved to the girl's side and gave her a hug. "Now, don't yuh go gettin' yourself all fussed up and ruinin' your birthday. Johnny'll be just fine. It's been a long day an' he's probably just tuckered out. Fact is I'm about dead on my feet, myself. Think I'll call it a night and hit the sack, too."

"Goodnight, Jelly . . . and thank you for snakeskin. I really do like it." Teresa smiled and gave the bearded man a tight squeeze. "And thanks for watching out for Scott and Johnny. Saving them from those snakes was the best present you could have given me." She then pulled away and wrinkled her nose at Scott. "Although, I don't know why I should feel that way. Life would be much quieter around here without them."

"Now, Teresa. Wouldn't all of that quiet get a little dull?"

Teresa smiled at the teasing glint in Scott's eyes. He was more right that he'd ever know, but she wasn't about to let him see that. "Oh, I suppose it might . . . in time."

"Well, you two can go on with your pallaberin' all night if yuh want. I'm headed tuh bed," Jelly said, making a move toward the door.

Scott and Teresa wished Jelly a good night's sleep then stood slightly apart while watching the older man leave the room.

"It was a lovely party," commented Scott once Jelly was out of sight.

"Yes . . . it was." Teresa's tone was wistful as her eyes reached beyond the walls of room.

"I guess it's a good thing Murdoch gave you a hope chest last Christmas. From the looks of things . . . you'll be needing it." Scott waved a hand toward the piles of gifts on the table.

"Yes," replied Teresa distractedly while lowering her eyes to gaze unseeingly at her presents. She then shifted her eyes to her guardian's elder son and held her lip between her teeth for a moment before speaking. "Scott, I was only teasing . . . about not missing you and Johnny. You know that, don't you? I would miss you both terribly if anything . . .." Her voice broke and she swallowed--the tightness in her throat making her wince.

"I know." Scott gently laid an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his side.

For a moment, head resting against his chest, she leaned into him and savored the protective strength of his embrace. Murdoch's sons had become like brothers to her. The thought of losing either of them was unbearable. She was sure she couldn't love them more if they were her own brothers, and at times, she needed to touch them just to assure herself that they were real.

"Scott," she said as she pulled away and ran her fingers down one streamer of the hair ribbon. "Did you pick this cloth out for Johnny to give to me?"

The young man shook his head. "No. I'll have you know, Johnny picked that out all on his own."

"Where?" she inquired, surprise showing in her eyes.

"At the lady's emporium in Sacramento."

Her eyes widened even further and her mouth dropped open. "Johnny actually went into a place like that? All by himself?"

"Well," chuckled Scott. "I did accompany him . . . but I left it entirely up to him to select his gift. He didn't do too badly, either."

"No, he didn't," she agreed with a slight shake of her head. "It's beautiful. I love the color. Blue always has been my favorite."

"It's just too bad . . .." Scott paused and briefly glanced away. He softly sighed then went on. "He bought enough for a dress. He thought the pale blue would look nice with your brown hair."

"Johnny said that?" Teresa asked, ignoring the fact that Scott hadn't finished what he had started to say.

"Yes. Hard to believe, I know . . . but as surprising as it may seem, he does notice that sort of thing." Scott smiled and let out a soft laugh that lightly jiggled his shoulders. "You should have seen him . . . picking up each bolt of cloth and holding it up to himself in front of the mirror so he could see how it might look on you. He didn't like the yellow one. Said it reminded him of runny egg yolks. The pink and the red were too much like something a dance hall girl would wear; white was too much like something you would make a wedding dress out, and he didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea; and the green was much too dark. He considered a few of the calicos, but, for various reasons, one by one, he eliminated them, also."

Scott stopped to take a deep breath then continued while a gleam of amusement sparkling in his steel-blue eyes. "You would have been amazed at how particular he was. It took him more than an hour. I was beginning to think he'd never find something he liked. Then the proprietor's daughter brought out that blue silk. She said that her mother had been holding it back for a customer down near Stockton to look at, but since she herself thought it would go much nicer with dark hair than blond, she was letting Johnny see it anyway. Personally, I think she was smitten with Johnny and was trying to impress him."

"Was he?"

"With the girl?" Scott chuckled again. "No. As for the fabric, he barely saw it, said it was perfect, and started digging out his money."

Teresa smiled at the picture Scott had painted of Johnny. No wonder Johnny had been so quick to excuse himself from taking her shopping and had so readily volunteered his brother. "Is that why he doesn't want to go back there? I mean because of the girl."

Scott shrugged. "Could be."

Teresa bit her lip again and rested her hand lightly on Scott's arm. "You don't really mind accompanying us to Sacramento, do you? I could wait and go another time when Murdoch isn't so busy."

Scott's eyes shifted just a little and there was a slight hesitation before he spoke. "No need for that. I'd be honored to show you around Sacramento . . on one condition." Tiny wrinkles then appeared at the corners of his eyes.

"And what would that be?"

"That you allow me to escort you to dinner at the best restaurant in town."

"I would be delighted to dine with you," she returned with a hint of mischief twinkling in her brown eyes. "On one condition, of course."

"Yes?" inquired Scott, his eyebrows arching.

"That you wear what you have on tonight."

"Instead of what, might I ask?" He spoke with an indignant ring to his voice.

"That suit in your closet. You know . . . the one you say you're saving for just the right occasion?"

"And what is wrong with it?" he demanded with mock indignation. "It was the latest style in Boston."

"We're not in Boston, and I won't have everyone staring at me . . . us," she replied, her statement ending in a flustered stammer. She then tilted her chin upward and added, "Besides, I don't have anything nearly that nice to wear."

He just cocked an eyebrow as his blue eyes innocently shined down on her. "You look just fine to me as you are."

"And you, Scott Lancer, are a flatterer," Teresa scoffed--one shoulder rising and tucking toward her ear. She shifted her eyes to the gifts and gently touched the satiny smoothness of the rosette's silk streamer. "Where did you get the idea for this?" she dreamily asked. "Is it like something you've seen before?"

"Not exactly. I've seen rosettes with long ribbons before, but actually, it was Lucinda who figured out the best way to attach the other items."

"It really is beautiful. Perhaps, you and Lucinda should go into business. You should have heard all of the girls raving about this." Teresa then proceeded to mimic the voices of several of her female guests. "Mary Sue said she'd 'just die' to have one like it; Emily thought is was 'simply divine'; and Sally Brown wanted to know if I thought 'dear Scott' would design one for her."

"Well, you can tell your friends that this was a Scott Lancer exclusive--a one-time venture. 'Dear Scott' has no intention of going into the business of designing lady's hair ribbons," Scott announced with a finality that left Teresa laughing and with no doubts about what he had thought of her suggestion.

The two continued to talk for a while longer then Scott declared that he'd had a long day and that he really ought also to be retiring for the night. Teresa thanked him one last time for his part in salvaging her birthday gifts then kissed him lightly on the cheek and wished him 'peaceful dreams'. As he passed from sight through the arched doorway into the entrance hall, she smiled and let out a soft sigh.

A moment later Murdoch's distinct footsteps, coming from somewhere behind her, alerted Teresa to her guardian's presence, and she turned to watch him pass in front of the fireplace and stride toward her. She tilted her head back and smiled into his eyes as he reached her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. "It was a lovely party," she said.

"Yes, it was," he commented, an affectionate twinkle in his eyes. Then glancing toward the table, he added. "It looks like you faired very well. From the looks of things, it's a good thing I didn't have that cedar chest made any smaller."

"I did receive some very nice things, but the gift from you and your sons is my favorite." She paused to give the hair ribbon a loving glance then, when he started to speak, she reached up and put a finger to his lips. "Don't say it. I know it wasn't what you planned, but I love it all the more because it's a reminder of how fortunate we are that Johnny wasn't bitten."

"Yes, we are . . . very fortunate," he softly agreed.

Her brow puckered a little as she tilted her head slightly to one side. "Speaking of Johnny . . . have you seen him since we had the cake? I'm worried that he might not be feeling well. His nose was looking quite swollen, and when he got up from the table, he acted like his leg was bothering him. Do you suppose Sam should have taken a look at him?"

"Juanita told me she saw Johnny head up stairs about an hour ago. He was probably worn out from the trip and went on to bed."

Her frown deepened. "But he didn't even tell any of us he was going."

Murdoch drew her closer, and she slipped an arm behind his back then snuggled against his side while listening to the comforting sound of his voice. "Now don't worry, Honey. I'm sure he'll be just fine. Sam will be back out here around noon tomorrow to see how that burn on Walt's hand is doing. He can take a look at Johnny then."

"But what if Johnny isn't around then?" she asked, her mind not quite ready to let go of the concern she felt gnawing at the pit of her stomach.

He squeezed her a little tighter. "He'll be here. I'll see to that."

"How?"

"Don't worry. I'll find a way."

"But you know how he is about seeing the doctor. Won't he get suspicious if he knows Sam'll be here?"

"As far as I know, no one, other than Walt and the two of us, even knows Sam is coming out tomorrow. Now . . .." With his other hand, Murdoch gently lifted Teresa's chin so that their eyes met. "Why don't you go on to bed. You've had a busy day, and I'm sure you must be tired. Your gifts will be fine where they are until morning. You can tend to them after breakfast."

Teresa let out a soft sigh of resignation as she stepped out of the confines of his fatherly arm. Saying she wasn't sleepy would do no good. She had learned a long time ago that there were only certain times when it paid to argue with Murdoch Lancer. This was not one of them. Despite the gentleness of his voice, he had that look in his eyes that said he wasn't budging.

"I am tired," she said, stifling a fake yawn. It didn't do to always let him think she was merely complying with his orders. Rising to the tips of her toes, she placed a hand on his arm and kissed his cheek. "Good-night, Murdoch. Thank you for a wonderful birthday."

She stepped back and smiled at him as he said, "Good-night, Honey," then she cast one more loving glance at her gifts--eyes lingering a little longer on the rosette hair ribbon--before turning and walking out the same arched doorway that had swallowed Scott a few minutes earlier. It truly had been a wonderful day, and one that she would not soon forget.

Moments later, Teresa paused outside Johnny's door. The temptation to peek in and make sure that he was all right was nearly more than she could resist, but she managed to do just that. If he were awake, he wouldn't appreciate her checking up on him. Johnny wasn't a child, and most of the time, he didn't like to be treated like one. This would most definitely be one of those times, too. He would rightly assume that she was worried about his injuries, and then he would get defensive, which would no doubt lead to something being said that might ruin what had been one of the best birthdays she could remember.

With a whispered, "Sweet dreams, Johnny," Teresa proceeded on down the hallway to her own room. She quietly entered, turned up the wick on the wall lamp, and then readied herself for bed. In a matter of minutes, the lamp had been turned down to a faint glow once more, and she was curled up on her side in bed, the blankets tucked snugly up over her shoulder.

Smiling into the darkness, she thought about the varied gifts--some not even wrapped--that she had received that day. The assortment of articles that she had be given for her hope chest were all very nice, and she appreciated the good wishes behind each one; however, they would not invoke the memories that would last long into the future. Not even the snakeskin from Jelly or the beautiful hair adornment from Murdoch and the boys would be considered her best present in the days to come, nor would the pending shopping trip. That honor was reserved for the one thing that hadn't come packaged up in tissue paper and tied with a tiny ribbon, or surrounded by brown paper and a piece of string. Her best gift was her family. Johnny and Scott safely home, and Murdoch and Jelly, too. That was what she would cherish most about this day, her seventeenth birthday.

Epilogue: The Day After

Just outside the main entry door of the Lancer hacienda, Johnny Lancer stood slightly apart from his father and Sam Jenkins. He would have rather been anywhere else at that moment, but he hadn't had a choice. Murdoch, with nothing more than a tip of his head and a familiar roll of his eyes, had made it quite clear once the examination was over that his younger son was expected to help see the doctor on his way.

"His nose isn't broken; however, it is going to be swollen and quite sore for a few days. Cold compresses with a little tincture or infusion of arnica should help reduce the bruising and swelling. That headache's going to linger for a while, too. A few days of bed rest would be best . . .." Doc Jenkins paused to glance at Johnny, whose mouth was already forming a word of protest, then shifted his attention back to Murdoch and quickly continued before that man could say anything either. "I know," Sam said, raising one hand in surrender--his other holding the black leather bag that contained his medical supplies. "So I'll just prescribe that he take it easy. No work the rest of today and tomorrow then only light activity for at least two days after that."

Sam turned and scowled while shaking a finger at Johnny. "And you, Young Man, need to stay off that leg as much as possible, especially through tomorrow. That is a very nasty bruise you've got there. Packing it with ice right away would have helped, but it's too late to do anything about that now." Upon shifting back toward Murdoch, the doctor then added, "Heat will help the swelling to go down, so I recommend either applying hot towels or soaking in a tub of hot water once or twice a day. Oh, and make sure Epsom salt is added to the water. It'll help draw out the bruising . . . and I meant it when I said for him to stay off his feet. If you have to . . . hog tie him!"

Johnny hunched his shoulders and ducked his head to avoid meeting the warning in his father's eyes as Murdoch said, "I'll see that he follows your instructions . . . to . . . the . . . letter." By the inflection in his father's voice and the way the last three words were drawn out, Johnny had no doubts about Murdoch enforcing the doctor's orders.

"Well, see that you do," Sam Jenkins insisted one more time before bidding the two men farewell, stepping off the porch, and climbing into his buggy.

As Murdoch watched the doctor drive away, Johnny backed toward the front door. He figured that now would be a good time to head for his room since he was expected to laze around anyway.

"Johnny!"

There was no use thinking he could escape the owner of that commanding voice, so Johnny halted and leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb while appearing to closely examine the floor at his feet.

"Want to tell me why you didn't say something about that bruise last night?"

His father's words may have been a question but they sounded considerably more like a demand. Johnny shrugged. "It didn't look all that bad," he said, hoping to appease the other man.

"Don't give me that! Sam said it was dark purple and as big as my hand. You had to have landed pretty hard to get a bruise that size." Murdoch's tone then softened a little. "But . . . from the looks of your face, I guess you did."

"It ain't all that bad," Johnny replied, hesitantly meeting his father's eyes.

"What do you mean, it isn't that bad? You can't work for two days, and then you still have to take it easy for a few more after that," Murdoch snapped, frustration mixed with guilt written on his face.

Johnny dipped his head again and nervously swiped a hand in front of his eyes. "Look, uh . . . it really ain't your fault," he softly drawled.

"I shouldn't have let you boys goad me into--"

"It ain't your fault, Murdoch," insisted Johnny, speaking louder than before. Then taking a breath, he licked his lips and quietly added, "I didn't hurt my leg or my nose in that fall."

"Then how did it happen?" Murdoch asked a bit impatiently.

Not wanting to own up to his foolhardy ride of the day before, Johnny wrapped his arms across his chest and considered what sort of a tale to tell his father.

"Johnny, I asked--"

"I heard yuh," Johnny replied, still trying to think of what to say.

"Well?"

Feeling a large hand on his shoulder, Johnny glanced up at his father. The look in Murdoch's eye ended any further thought of stalling or of making up a story. "Brambles kept bangin' into me," Johnny finally explained, hoping to get by with a small part of the truth.

"The mule?" With brows knitted together, Murdoch scrutinized his son. "But how'd he get you in the face?"

Johnny squirmed inside but didn't so much as flinch. "He didn't . . . uh . . . I did that on Baranca's neck."

"How in the world--"

"Look, Murdoch, yuh ain't gunna like hearin' about it. Besides . . . Jelly already blistered my ears. Called me every kind of fool he could think--"

"That bad, huh?" interrupted Murdoch, lifting the hand that was resting on his son's shoulder and raising it to his own mouth--one finger sliding along the side of his nose as he looked away.

"Yeah," Johnny softly answered.

"Perhaps it is best I don't know the details," Murdoch agreed before his eyes again sought those of his son. "So . . . did you learn anything?"

"Uh, huh . . . next time I go fetchin' birthday presents, I'll listen to Jelly and leave that prickly mule at home!"

When Murdoch let out a hearty laugh, Johnny's smile broadened as a sense of relief washed over him. Guess my old man's more understandin' than I give him credit for. This being a thought he wouldn't voice aloud to his father, he teasingly said, "Think I'll go lie down for awhile. After all, I wouldn't wanna get into trouble for not obeyin' the doctor's orders. I'm not overly fond of bein' hog-tied."

As Johnny made a move toward the stairway that led to the upper level of the house, Murdoch stopped him. "Maybe you'd better lie on the couch. You probably shouldn't be climbing those stairs any more than you have to. In fact, if you want to sleep for a while, you can go in my room. It might be a little quieter there."

"Thanks. I think I'll do that . . . if you're sure yuh don't mind. My head is hurtin' worse again."

"I don't mind . . . as long I don't have to tuck you in." Clearing his throat, Murdoch glanced toward the arched doorway into the living room. "I'll find Maria and have her fix a cold compress for your nose and a hot towel for your leg. The sooner you get some heat on that bruise the better."

Murdoch's tone was light but his hurried departure suggested he might actually have liked playing the role of a father--perhaps was even remembering a time in the past when he had performed that very act for his son. This thought gave Johnny a warm feeling that started at his heart and spread outward. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, he regretted not sharing those memories. This he pushed aside as he settled himself onto Murdoch's oversize bed and waited for Maria to arrive with the towels.

~~~~~

Teresa O'Brien took the plate from the young man lounging on the sofa in front of the fireplace alcove. "Can I get you anything else?" she cheerfully offered.

"I'd like a piece of that leftover cake . . . if it ain't too much trouble," Johnny replied, flashing her a smile of gratitude.

"Sure is amazin' what some folks 'round here'll do tuh get waited on hand and foot," remarked the whiskered man, a short distance behind Teresa, as he passed the end of the couch where Johnny's stocking feet rested against the arm.

Teresa's hands went to her hips and her face clouded. "Johnny's not to be walking any more than he has to. Besides, he didn't get hurt on purpose . . . and you know it," she retorted, her eyes fixed on the bearded man.

"Well he should've thought o' that before he--." Interrupted by a bump on the arm, Jelly turned and let his eyes move from the buttons on the shirt of the tall man behind him to the man's face. "Whatcha--"

A shake of Murdoch Lancer's head as it tipped slightly toward Teresa swiftly put an end to Jelly's question.

This bit of by-play, however, did not go unnoticed by Teresa, and she shifted her eyes from one man to the other. "Johnny should have thought of what before he what?"

"I think Jelly was just saying that Johnny should have been more careful how he tackled me," replied Murdoch then rested a hand on the smaller man's shoulder as their eyes met. "Isn't that so, Jelly?"

"Yeah, . . . uh, that's what I was gettin' at, all right."

Teresa continued to study the two men. She was sure they were hiding something from her. From what she had seen of the contest between Murdoch and his sons, there didn't seem to be any way that Johnny could have sustained more than minor injuries from his fall. Yet, the usual contour of his nose was considerably broader and rounder, his eyes appeared farther apart--lids puffy from the swelling--and his face had developed purplish shadows that spread from the bridge of his nose outward across each cheekbone. There was also the leg that Sam Jenkins had left strict orders for Johnny to stay off of. That didn't make much sense, either . . . unless--.

Shaking free of her thoughts, Teresa turned her attention back to the young man on the sofa. Her men weren't about to tell her anything; of that she was sure. They were protecting her, she supposed, as her brows furrowed and her mouth skewed a little to one side.

"Somethin' wrong?"

The soft, lazy voice penetrated the clouds of Teresa's mind as her eyes focused on the speaker. "No, Johnny . . . nothing's wrong," she replied while thinking that she was just as capable of keeping secrets as her men folk were.

Deep pools of blue reached toward her. "Yuh sure?" Johnny asked in the quiet, gentle tone that always made her heart swell.

"I'm sure," she asserted then quickly claimed that she needed to get the table cleared and the dishes into the kitchen.

A moment later, one arm heavily laden with stacked plates, an empty serving bowl gripped between thumb and finger of that hand and silverware in the other, Teresa stopped just out of sight in the hallway that led to the kitchen. She heard Jelly challenge Johnny to a checker game and the adamant reply that Scott had better do the honors. This started an argument of some sort and she couldn't help smiling. Life at Lancer certainly was never dull, not since her best birthday gifts had arrived the spring before.

With a whisper of a chuckle, Teresa continued on to the sink where she deposited the dirty dishes in the dishpan. She covered them with hot water from the large kettle on the stove, added soap, and left them to soak. Then pretending not to notice what her family was up to, she finished clearing the table before lifting the domed lid from the plate that held the remainder of her birthday cake and cutting five pieces.

As she entered the living room, three dessert-plates precariously lining her left arm and each hand holding one of the other two, she saw Johnny glance up and grin broadly at her. His delight brought a warm flush to her cheeks, and she smiled in return as she cautiously made her way toward him.

"Here . . . let me help you," offered Scott, quickly getting up from his place opposite Jelly in front of the fireplace.

"Thank you, Scott," Teresa said, allowing him to take the two plates from her hands. As he passed one on to Jelly and kept one for himself, she gave Murdoch and Johnny theirs then sat down by Johnny's feet.

Glancing around at the four men, Teresa let out a long, soft breath of satisfaction then gently smiled. Her family was safe and sound, three members anyway. The youngest Lancer was hurting and looked like he had taken a terrible beating, which she was certain had not been administered by his father. However, since no one wanted to fill her in on the truth of the matter, she decided that she might as well be content with the knowledge that Johnny was alive and would be fine in a few days. In the meantime, she didn't mind pampering him a little as a way of showing her appreciation for the effort that he had put into buying a gift for her.

"You look happy," commented Murdoch from the dark leather chair beside the fireplace.

Meeting her guardian's eyes, Teresa dreamily replied, "I am. I had a wonderful birthday, and today I'm thoroughly enjoying my presents."

When a gray eyebrow lifted questioningly, Teresa shifted her eyes to lovingly gaze at each member of her family then smiled at Murdoch. His slightly parted lips and the pleased look on his face told her that he understood what she meant. Her family was, and always would be, the best birthday present of all.