The Wallet

Written by Desert Sun - First Published in 2002 - Revised September, 2003

Send Feedback to Desert Sun          Printable Pages:  9          Rating: G

(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. Feedback is greatly appreciated.)

Johnny Lancer, rubbing the back of his neck where the barrel of the sheriff's rifle had hit him, stood near the corner of the building that his brother and he had taken refuge against just moments before. Next to him, Scott Lancer stared after a dark-haired young woman as she fled from sight at the end of the alley.

As Scott took a sideways step to pass between his brother and the sheriff, the lawman barked, "Where do you think you're going?"

Stopping mid-stride, Scott ran his fingers through his sandy-colored hair and looked over at the lawman. "I am free to go, am I not?" he inquired, his tone unusually sharp. "She said that she lied. Doesn't that prove to you that I am not Jonas?"

"Maybe." The sheriff stretched the word out. He breathed in deeply, skewed his mouth, then rubbed his chin as he held his breath for better than a minute before letting it noisily out again and saying, "Guess it's time I had a talk with that young lady." Looking at his deputy, who still had a gun trained on the younger of the Lancer brothers, he added, "Bring them along. I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

"Sheriff, what more--."

A poke of Scott's elbow into Johnny's ribs effectively put an end to the rest of what the younger man had started to say. Scott shook his head in warning then let out a relieved breath when his brother shrugged and followed the sheriff as they all headed for the main street of town.

Events of the past two days raced through Scott's mind as he tagged along behind his brother. He and Johnny had been on a cattle-buying trip with their father. Murdoch had left them in this town while he went on alone to an auction at a ranch near a small town a few hours to the north. Looking for something with which to occupy their time, the brothers had discovered there was to be a dance that same evening so each had tried to find a young lady to escort.

About the same time that Johnny's attempt had ended in failure, Scott had noticed a pretty girl enter the stage depot and had followed her inside. After peering out the window and pretending to ignore her at first, he had struck up a conversation by suddenly acting like he recognized her. He had used the same tactic back east and had found it to be a very effective way of getting a young lady to talk to him. 'I certainly showed Johnny the art of meeting a woman,' he thought ruefully, remembering how at first the young woman had insisted she didn't know him and had shown no desire to talk.

Although he had found her coldness a little surprising, her behavior hadn't seemed unreasonable at the time since they actually had never met before. Thinking back on it now, Scott knew he should have been suspicious when she had suddenly become very friendly, agreeing to go with him to the dance and offering to spend the day with him, and he was thoroughly disgusted with himself for falling into her trap. Setting up a schoolboy wouldn't have been any easier for her. He had been flattered by her apparent trust in him and had gladly accepted the envelope and the kiss on the cheek. Then while he was busy congratulating himself on his conquest, someone had knocked him out. The next thing he had remembered was waking up in a chair at the sheriff's office.

Scott reached the end of the alley and rounded the corner of the building that faced the main street. Up ahead he spotted the young woman who was responsible for the predicament he had found himself in. 'At least she admitted the truth before it was too late. I wonder what Johnny said that finally got through to her.'

The thoughts of the older Lancer brother once again went back in time to two days earlier. A couple of bounty hunters had insisted that he was Jonas Barrett, a man wanted dead or alive for robbery and murder in Denver, Colorado. When he had looked for his billfold to prove that his name was Scott Lancer, he had found that it had been taken. Having Johnny vouch for him had not been sufficient either. His brother's papers had only verified that the younger man was Johnny Lancer; there had been nothing in them about a brother named Scott.

'I guess I should be thankful that the sheriff didn't hand me over to those bounty hunters right away--that he was willing to allow Johnny two days to find Julie or bring back some evidence that I was who I said I was.' Scott shuddered at the memory of how close Lucas and Wade had come to killing him when they had forced him to break jail. They would have accomplished their plan if the sheriff hadn't intervened at the last minute. The situation, however, had not been resolved at all to his liking when his brother had returned with Julie Barrett. Johnny had accidentally killed her brother in a fight and she had sought her revenge in the only way available to her, by deliberately lying and saying that he, Scott, was indeed her brother, Jonas.

Further musings by Scott were abruptly brought to an end as the sheriff halted his little entourage next to Julie Barrett, who was sitting on a bench in front of the stage depot. "Miss Barrett, will you please come along to my office," the lawman said. "I want to make sure I have all the facts, and I don't intend to discuss this in front of the whole town."

The young woman, still clutching her brother's saddlebags, pushed the stray strands of long, dark hair away from her face. Without looking at any of the men, she slowly rose to her feet and went with them to the jailhouse down the street.

Once inside his office, the sheriff went to his desk and sat down. He leaned back in his chair and looked Julie in the eye. "Now, Miss Barrett, I want the truth . . . all of it."

Scott felt a touch of sympathy for the young woman as she bit her quivering lip, looked down, and appeared to be studying the floor in front of her before replying, "I'm sorry. I lied. He . . . he's not my brother."

Just then the door burst open and two more men entered the room. When the sheriff scowled at them, they stopped just inside. Scott knew them instantly and tensed as the bounty hunters, like vultures waiting for their prey to die, stationed themselves just inside the doorway. The taller of the two, Lucas Thatcher, leaned against the doorjamb while the one known as Wade Hackett remained standing upright beside him.

"Are you going to believe what she says?" Lucas's voice was high, almost whining. "How do you know she isn't lying now to protect her brother?"

The lawman looked at the girl. "Well, Miss. Do you have any proof that this man isn't your brother?" he asked, pointing a finger in Scott's direction.

"I . . . I don't know what you want from me. I told you he isn't. What more proof do you need?" Julie's voice quivered as she nervously looked up at the law officer.

"Wait a minute, Sheriff." Scott took a step forward only to feel a sharp jab in his ribs as the end of the deputy's rifle was shoved against his side.

"Let him talk," the sheriff admonished his deputy then looked up at Scott and said, "Go on."

"My billfold, Sheriff . . . it will prove who I am. She had to have taken it; so either she has it on her, or she knows where it is."

The lawman turned his attention back to the young woman. His stern eyes searching her face. "Miss Barrett, did you take his wallet?"

Julie nodded as she chewed at her lip and blinked her eyes that were filling up with tears.

"Well." There was a sharp edge to the sheriff's voice that clearly indicated he was reaching the end of his patience. "You mind telling me what you did with it?"

Julie sniffed back a silent sob and spoke in a trembling voice. "I left it with the man at the livery stable." She then turned pleading eyes on Scott as more words came tumbling out. "I never meant you any harm. All I wanted was some time. Time to get away without them following. I had to get to my brother. Can't you see, I didn't want to lead them to him." Her shoulders began to shake as tears ran down her cheeks.

The younger of the Lancer brothers quickly stepped to the young woman's side, put an arm around her shoulders, and held her for a moment as she buried her face against his chest. "It's all right, Julie. It's over now," he softly reassured her.

When Julie's sobs had subsided, Johnny held her out away from him. He brushed the tears from her cheeks and gently coaxed, "You said, you left Scott's wallet with the livery man. What'd yuh tell him to do with it?"

Julie slowly lifted her head until her eyes met those of dark-haired young man in front of her. "He . . . he was supposed to bring it here . . . an hour after I had gone. I never intended for those men to take Scott. I . . . I only wanted to keep them from following me." Shifting her gaze to the older of the brothers, she pleaded, "I'm sorry. Truly I am. I should have told the truth when I arrived here." Her voice shook again. "I . . . I was . . . just so upset . . . about my brother . . . the way he died . . . all those lies Johnny told me to get to him. I believed Jonas was innocent. I . . . I was wrong. Please forgive me."

The anger that Scott had harbored earlier quickly dissipated and his heart filled with pity. If the situation had been reversed and it had been his brother in danger, he knew he would have done whatever he could to protect him. He really couldn't blame her for doing what she had done, especially since it seemed she hadn't actually meant him any harm.

"Think I'll go have a talk with a man about a wallet," Johnny announced, interrupting Scott's thoughts.

"Wait," Scott commanded when his brother let go of Julie's arms and started toward the doorway. Turning away from Johnny, he looked the sheriff in the eye. "I promise you I'll be right back. It was my billfold, and I'd like to be the one to retrieve it, if that's all right with you, Sheriff."

"You're not going to let him go," whined Lucas. "Can't you see that this is all a part of their plan. They're in this together, the three of them. If you let that boy leave, you'll never see him again."

The lawman got up from his chair and went to stand next to Scott. Looking over at Lucas, he stated emphatically, "As long as I'm the sheriff of this town, I'll say who goes and who stays."

The sheriff then returned his attention to Scott. "I'll let you go . . . but . . . you see to it you come right back. And, young man, you be careful how you go about gettin' that wallet. I hear about you getting out of line, you'll be right back in my jail. Is that understood?" he admonished, tapping a finger against the younger man's chest.

Feeling the man's eyes burning into him, Scott nodded. "Understood . . . but I do intend to retrieve my property and find out why it wasn't returned to me sooner," he replied determinedly before heading out the door.

As he started down the boardwalk, Scott couldn't help but smile when he heard the lawman bark, "You two stay right where you are. You're not going anywhere at the moment."

The sound of footfalls behind him brought Scott's chin toward his left shoulder as he glanced to see who was following him. His eyebrows then knitted together as he slowed his pace until his brother caught up to him. "Just where is it that you think are going?" he demanded, a sharpness to his normally quiet and polite tone.

"With you."

"Oh no, you're not," Scott replied firmly. "I'm quite capable of handling this on my own."

"I know that, Scott." A fan of little creases appeared around Johnny's blue eyes as he flashed a grin at Scott before continuing. "Now did I say anything about helpin' yuh? Did I? All I want to do is watch."

"You're not going," snapped Scott. "I don't need any spectators."

"Any what?"

"Spectators." At the puzzled look on Johnny's face, Scott almost smiled. "Watchers, Johnny. I don't need anybody watching."

The younger man's mouth formed an 'O' and he shrugged. "Could a said so." The expression on Johnny's face then became more serious and his eyes almost pleading. "Come on Scott. I won't be in the way. After all I've done for yuh . . . can't I get in on a little of the fun."

His resolve slipping, Scott reached out and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder then looked him sternly in the eye. "On one condition."

"What?"

"That you promise to stay out of sight. I'm not about to have the man claiming that we ganged up on him. You heard what the sheriff said." Scott's eyes bored into those of the younger man.

"I told you I'd stay out of it, didn't I?"

The wounded look on Johnny's face made the older of the brothers quickly glance away. If he were to keep the upper hand, Scott knew he had to continue the facade of being serious. "I want your promise," he insisted.

"Okay!"

"That's not good enough. I want to hear you say the words. Promise me you will stay out of sight no matter what happens." Scott tightened his grip on Johnny's shoulder. "Promise."

Johnny laughed lightly, a broad smile appearing on his face. "Brother, you just never give up, do yuh?" He then raised his hands in mock surrender and said, "Okay. I promise I'll stay out a sight no matter what." His upper lip curled a little and his head bobbed slightly to emphasize his next words. "There. That make yuh happy?"

"Uh hum," Scott mumbled, his head nodding. Releasing his hold on his brother, he then strode on down the street toward livery stable.

The ring of a hammer against steel met Scott's ears as he pushed on the rough wood of the livery stable's door to open it wide enough for him to pass through. In the middle of the dimly lit, main floor of the building, he saw someone at the forge. The man was holding a 'U' shaped piece of metal by its middle with a pair of long handled tongs. As Scott approached, he laid one edge of the shoe on the tapered end of an anvil and pounded on the opposite edge, then lifted it up for inspection. Apparently not satisfied, he shoved the shoe into the fire, held it there for a couple of minutes, and then removed it before pounding on it some more.

"Excuse me, sir," Scott said in a loud, clear voice when the man stopped to check the shoe's shape once more.

"What kin I do fer yuh?" The older man, the top of his head devoid of hair, glanced quickly at Scott before returning to his work.

"I'm looking for the proprietor?" Scott was a bit perturbed at the man's lack of manners but forced himself to use a polite tone.

"Yuh got 'im."

"Good," said Scott, stepping a little closer to the stable owner. "I believe you are just the man to help me."

"Yuh needin' a horse, Mister?" the man queried without so much as a glance in Scott's direction.

"No . . . not at the moment. What I need, Sir, is my billfold. A young lady left it with you two days ago."

The liveryman shifted uneasily. "Don't know nothin' 'bout no billfold," he stated while continuing to shape the piece of metal.

Scott took a long step that brought him within a foot of the other man then, clearly enunciating each word, said, "You did see the girl, did you not?"

"Well." The man dragged out his answer while his eyes squinted and looked upward. "Can't rightly say. Lots o' folks been in here in the last couple days."

"I'm certain that you would remember her. She was pretty--much shorter than I am, about twenty-four years old, long dark-brown hair that was nearly black. She was wearing a light green, flowered dress with a darker green shawl wrapped around her shoulders."

The stable keeper shook his head slightly. "Nope. Can't say's I recall anyone like that." There was a sizzling sound, then a puff of steam rose out of the bucket of water as the man dunked the horseshoe into it.

Scott reached out with his right hand, grasped high up near the collar on the front of the man's shirt, and pulled the shorter man closer. "I've just spent the last two days in jail for a crime I had nothing to do with. Two bounty hunters have tried twice to kill me, because they think I am someone that I am not. Now I have just about run out of patience. I know for a fact that Julie rented a buggy from you and that she gave you my billfold. You were to have returned it to me an hour after she left it with you."

The stable owner's eyes shifted and his throat moved, but he still insisted that he knew nothing of the missing wallet.

With a twist of his wrist, Scott tightened his grip below the collar of the man's shirt then, using his other hand, wrenched the tongs from the stableman's fist and jammed the end of it into the fire. His voice changed, replicating the soft, deadly tone he had heard his brother, Johnny, use on more than one occasion. "Mister, I'm through playing games with you. Now . . . either you return what is mine to me or . . .." He brought the hot end of the metal tool around and held within an inch of the other man's face before finishing. "I'm going to do something that we'll both regret."

"You won't get away with this. I'll tell the sheriff," the smaller man squeaked.

"He already knows I'm here . . . and he knows why I'm here. He'd be only too happy to accommodate you with some free lodging if you insist on retaining my property." Scott continued to glare threateningly at the man.

The owner of the livery gulped as he eyed the hot iron an inch away from his right cheek. "All right. I'll . . . get it."

Scott lowered the tongs. He loosed his grip on the shirt and gave the man a slight shove, sending him staggering backwards. "See that you do." He moved in closer again, waving the tongs in one hand while pulling the pistol out of his holster with the other and aiming it at the stableman. "And don't try any tricks. I'm not in a very favorable mood at the moment."

The older man edged his way around Scott to get to the forge then leaned down and rummaged through the dirt and bits of metal that lay on the floor. "Mu . . . might . . . this be . . . what . . . yer lookin' fer?" His voice was still high pitched and nervous sounding as he stood up with a filthy, leather pocketbook in his hand.

Scott laid the tongs aside and accepted the offered wallet. With his gun still in his other hand, he fumbled to open the billfold. The angry look on his face became more pronounced. "Where's the money that was in here. I had close to two hundred dollars in this."

"Don't know nothin' 'bout no money. The girl must've taken it." The proprietor's chin lifted a bit as he spoke with a touch of belligerence.

"Well, I think you do know . . . but . . . we can play this your way." Scott raised his revolver and pointed it at the other man's chest.

"Wh . . . what're . . . yuh gunna do?"

"You and I are going to take a little walk down to the sheriff's office. The young lady who gave this to you is there. One of you has my money, and I intend to find out which one." Scott's cold eyes locked on those of the other man. "One more thing before we go. You had best not be lying to me, because if you are . . . that money is going to cost you a few years in prison."

When Scott took a few steps toward the door of the stable, the other man's pace slowed and the barrel of the revolver jabbed into his back. He took a couple more hesitant steps, then halted again.

"Keep moving," Scott commanded.

"La . . . look a here," the other man rasped. "I uh . . . I never meant ta steal yer money. I . . . I uh . . I just put it away fer safe keepin'. That's right. I was afraid it might get stolen, so I hid it away. Then things got real busy, and I plumb fergot all about it. That's the gospel truth. I ain't no thief; yuh can ask anybody 'round here. I was just takin' care o' it fer yuh. I didn't tell yuh sooner 'cause yuh come in here a threatin' me. Had me plumb muddled up in my mind so's I couldn't even think straight. Besides, how was I ta know it was even yer money. Now, if you'll jest put that gun down, I'll get it fer yuh."

Scott found it hard not to laugh at the way the liveryman had rattled on, barely stopping to gasp for air, once he'd gotten started with his long-winded excuse. Despite the twitching at the corners of Scott's mouth, however, he did manage to retain his stern demeanor. Upon instructing the other man to lead the way, Scott followed him through a door that led into the living quarters, which were attached to the rear of the barn.

Twenty minutes later, Johnny Lancer pulled the cinch of his saddle snug, let the near stirrup down easy then led the bay horse over to where his brother was putting the bridle on their father's horse. "That was quite an act you put on a while ago." Johnny grinned, slapping Scott's shoulder. "Didn't know yuh had it in yuh to be so downright ornery. Yuh sure did have that poor man scared plumb out of his skin."

"I was a bit primitive at that, wasn't I?" Scott chuckled as he buckled the throatlatch. He turned to face his brother and smiled. "I guess it comes from living with you for nearly a year."

"Me? Purr . . . pur-rimative . . . well, whatever that word yuh said is. When're yuh gunna stop usin' them college words an' speak English? Half the time, it's like yuh was talkin' in some foreign language or somethin'."

"Primitive means medieval . . . uncivilized . . . unrefined," Scott explained, not quite certain whether his brother was just teasing or really didn't know what the word meant. Upon noticing there was still somewhat of an expression of confusion on Johnny's face, he added, "Crude, rough. Are you getting the picture, now?"

The corners of Johnny's mouth twitched as he tilted his chin upward and cast wounded eyes on his brother. "Yeah, I got it. Yuh mean I ain't got any manners."

"Yep, Little Brother, you understand perfectly." Scott laughed, then gathered the reins of the two horses he had saddled and coaxed them to follow him out of the corral next to the livery stable. He glanced behind him as he waited for his brother to lead his own horse out and close the gate. When he next spoke, his tone was more serious. "So, what are we going to tell Murdoch when he asks what we've been doing?"

"Think he will? Ask, I mean?"

"He'll ask all right. I haven't any doubts about that," Scott replied, as he set out down the street with the two horses in tow--his brother at his side.

"So. Whatcha think we oughta tell the old man?"

"Nothing," Scott said, then glanced over at his brother, chuckled as their eyes met, and added, "Absolutely nothing."

Johnny smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Yuh really think he'll believe we did nothin' but watch the dust settle for two whole days?"

"No . . . but it's worth a try," Scott replied, his hearty laugh then joining that of his brother.