Dance With Me
Teresa shook the rug energetically, imagining it was a Lancer son. She'd never been so furious in her whole life. She wasn't a child any more, and it was about time certain people around here realized it.
She finished with the rug and replaced it on the floor in the front hall. There really wasn't much point, she thought. They'd just tramp more mud in tonight, when they came in from the range. More mud, more dust, more shirts to mend and launder, more meals to prepare, more bandages when they managed to hurt themselves. Teresa was tired of the whole thing. Men were more trouble than they were worth.
She marched into the kitchen, her dark eyes still full of fury, and stopped. There was a young man sitting on the kitchen table she had just scrubbed.
"Don't you have any work to do?" she asked, exasperated.
"Lots of it," Johnny said cheerfully. "Murdoch's going to skin me if he catches me. Teresa, why are you mad?"
"Why am I mad?" Teresa looked at him unbelievingly. "Johnny, did you see what Scott did last night at the dance?"
"Yep," Johnny said. "He hustled that fresh cowboy out before I did. Didn't know Boston had it in him."
Teresa's eyes narrowed. She crossed over to the counter and picked up a large knife. She started to chop celery and onions vigorously. "Did it ever occur to either of you that I can handle a fresh cowboy all by myself?"
"Nope," Johnny said, watching the knife. "Why should you, when you've got us to look out for you? Teresa, you don't like that cabrón, do you? He's no good."
"How would I know if I like him or any of the other boys?" Teresa said. "Scott didn't let any of them get near me. The only boy I got to dance with last night was Homer White, and he's only 12 years old! I'm not a child, Johnny, and you and Scott don't seem to realize it."
Johnny looked at her, and the corner of his mouth tilted up. "You're right, querida," he said. "But Scott was just trying to keep you safe."
"Don't think for a minute I don't know that you would have been just as bad if you hadn't spent most of the dance outside with Bess Thompson," she said, glaring at him. "You better be careful, Johnny. She has five older brothers, and they're all about twice your size."
Johnny's smile widened. "I'm always careful."
She snorted.
"I've had it with both of you," she said, drawing herself up to her full height. "From now on, I expect all of you to treat me like an adult."
"Aw, Teresa," Johnny said. "We're just trying to look out for you."
"I don't need to be looked out for," she said stubbornly. "I need some respect. And I better get it, or you'll be sorry."
"What do you mean?" Johnny said, a little bit uneasily.
Teresa opened the pantry. "You wouldn't want to cook your own meals, would you, Johnny? Or do the laundry? And I bet you have no idea how to sew the buttons back on your shirts."
"Teresa," he protested.
"If certain men don't start to show a little appreciation to certain other people, then certain men are going to get a big surprise," Teresa said darkly. "Now, clear out of here. You've got work to do and so do I."
An hour later, Johnny belatedly joined a crew on the east side of the ranch, where Murdoch wanted to fence off some additional pastures. "I'm telling you, Boston, she's mad as hell," he told his older brother as they worked together.
"She'll get over it," Scott said confidently, setting a pole in a newly dug hole.
"I dunno," Johnny said doubtfully. He filled in around the pole and tamped down the dirt.
"You don't honestly think I should have let her dance with Billy Bartlett? He's wilder than you are."
Johnny glanced up. "I wouldn't mess with a girl like Teresa, Scott."
"That's why I said Billy Bartlett is wilder than you are." Scott tested the pole to see if it would stand up to his weight, then took out his bandanna and wiped his face.
"Scott, maybe we should let Teresa make her own decisions," Johnny said. "She is 17. I was making my own decisions a long time before I was 17."
Scott refrained from pointing out just how disastrous some of his younger brother's choices had been. "What if she makes the wrong decisions?"
"Then we step in and take a hand," Johnny said.
Scott frowned. "You're saying that we should allow Teresa the opportunity to reject Billy Bartlett all by herself?"
"I guess I am."
"You better be right, Johnny," Scott said. "Because if something goes wrong and anything happens to Teresa, Murdoch is going to chew us up, spit us out and stomp on whatever's left."
Johnny's brows rose. "That don't sound like something you learned at Harvard, Boston."
"California is expanding my vocabulary," Scott said.
"Oh."
***
Jake Thompson took a red-hot horseshoe from the fire and banged it into shape before he plunged it into cold water. "I want to know what that boy of yours has in mind," he said. "He and my girl spent nearly the whole dance together."
"Which boy?" Murdoch asked, dreading the answer.
"That younger one," Thompson said. "The gun hawk."
It figured, Murdoch thought. "Johnny's not a gun hawk any more, Jake," he said aloud. "He's a rancher." He hoped desperately it turned out to be true.
"He does anything to hurt my little girl, and he's going to need that gun of his," Thompson said. "Because my boys will take him apart."
"Jake, I'll talk to him," Murdoch said. "There's no need for you or your boys to worry about Johnny."
"You do that," Jake said, glowering at him. "I ain't saying that I'd necessarily object, you understand, if my girl decided to make a match of it with one of your sons, Murdoch. That older boy of yours seems like a nice, steady fellow and real smart too. But the younger one, well, he'd need to stick to ranching quite a while before I could ever think of it."
"I understand completely, Jake," Murdoch said. "Besides, Johnny's not even 20, and I don't think he's ready to settle down yet."
Jake's face turned thunderous. "So he was just playing with my gal?"
"No," Murdoch said hastily. "No, Jake, I'm sure he wasn't. You know how young men can be."
Jake reached for his anvil again, with an enormous hand, and effortlessly hammered another horseshoe into shape. "I do know how they can be, Murdoch, and what I'm saying to you is he better not be, not with my Bess."
"Jake, I promise you, I'll take care of it," Murdoch said.
He strode into the front hall at Lancer, dropped his hat on the rack and unbuckled his gun belt. Scott's gun was already hanging on a peg, he noted with approval. Johnny had conceded reluctantly to the house rule against wearing his gun, but he flatly refused to leave his Colt hanging in the front hall. He didn't wear it, but it still tended to migrate with him from room to room. Right now, it sat under the low table in front of the sofa. Johnny was stretched out, flat on his back, on the rug by the fire. Scott was sitting on the sofa. Both of them already had drinks in their hands, Murdoch noticed.
"Did you get that fence finished?" he asked, heading for the cabinet to pour himself a Scotch.
"Yes, sir, " Scott answered. " We did."
Murdoch looked at Johnny. His eyes were half-closed, although he still gave off an impression of coiled energy.
"Scott, why don't you take the first turn in the bath house," Murdoch suggested. "I want to talk to your brother."
Scott looked up at his father and over at Johnny, who sat up and ran his hands through his hair, already tousled and sticking up like a small boy's. Johnny gave his brother a crooked smile. Scott hesitated, and then nodded.
Murdoch felt a flash of irritation at the unspoken communication between his sons.
"Can't you sit in a chair?" he asked Johnny after Scott left.
"I could," Johnny said easily, but he didn't move.
"I need to talk to you about Bess Thompson," Murdoch said abruptly. "Her father wants to know what your intentions are."
Johnny's eyes widened a little bit. "Don't have any. I only met her last night at the dance."
"You apparently spent a lot of time with her. Enough so her father and her brothers heard about it."
Johnny shrugged. "Murdoch, all we did was talk. I don't think she's any older than Teresa."
"Exactly," Murdoch said. "Johnny, I don't know what kind of girls you've met before, but Bess is a good girl."
One corner of Johnny's mouth turned up. "I've met a few good girls before, Murdoch," he drawled. "Real good girls."
"You keep a civil tongue, young man," Murdoch ordered.
Johnny rolled his eyes, and Murdoch's scowl deepened.
"This isn't funny, John," he said sharply. "I've known Jake Thompson for nearly 20 years. He's a good, decent man, and so are his children. I don't blame him for being worried."
"No, I guess not." Johnny rose to his feet in one fluid, perfectly balanced movement. "That all you have to say, Murdoch?"
Murdoch looked at his younger son's remote face.
"Johnny," he said. "Son, it's going to take some time for the people in town to accept you."
"Yeah," Johnny said tonelessly. "I understand. Don't worry, Murdoch. I won't shame you again."
"Johnny! I'm not ashamed," Murdoch protested, but Johnny was already halfway up the stairs.
***
Johnny didn't turn up for supper, and neither did Scott. Murdoch and Teresa ate in silence. Murdoch could tell something was bothering her too, but he decided wearily to postpone that discussion. She escaped to the kitchen as soon as they'd finished, and he took his coffee cup over to his desk.
It was quiet in the great room without the two boys. Murdoch had spent nearly 20 years alone, but the room seemed emptier now. The clock ticked on the mantel, the fire crackled on the hearth, and he could hear a faint murmur of voices in the kitchen. He opened a book and tried to concentrate on the pages, but the lines blurred. He put it down and got up to pour himself another drink.
In the evenings, Scott and Johnny usually ended up battling over chess or checkers. Murdoch was surprised when Johnny proved to be a match for his brother at both games. His younger son didn't have much education, but he had a quick, agile mind and an uncanny ability to visualize the next moves. Murdoch had slipped into the habit of sitting at his desk with a book and listening idly while his sons sparred over their game.
One of his greatest regrets was that Johnny had so little schooling. His mother had taught him to read and write and do sums, but she'd never stayed in one place long enough for him to go to school for more than a month or so. More often, he hadn't gone to school at all.
Murdoch loved his books nearly as much as his ranch, and he mourned over Johnny's lost school years. Scott's Harvard education was a source of fierce pride.
Johnny knew it, Murdoch thought sadly. The boy read people very well, and he'd quickly picked up Murdoch's feelings. The trouble was that Johnny seemed to read it as something else he had failed to do to his father's satisfaction, not as one more thing his parents had failed to provide.
Murdoch sighed, and looked over at the fire again, half expecting to see blond and dark heads bent over a game board.
"Sir?" Murdoch turned, and found his older son standing in the doorway. Scott's long face was forbidding and his mouth was set in a straight line. "Can I speak to you?"
"Of course, son. Where's your brother?"
"He's in his room," Scott said.
"Oh," Murdoch said, trying not to show his relief that Johnny hadn't ridden away from the ranch. So far, at least, he had come home again every time he left after an argument, but Murdoch still held his breath whenever it happened.
Scott looked at his father coldly. "Sir, I don't know what you said to Johnny tonight because he refuses to discuss it, but I don't like it when anyone hurts my brother."
"He's my son, Scott," Murdoch said. "The last thing I want to do is hurt him."
"Murdoch, do you think Johnny's stupid? Or that I am?"
"What do you mean?"
"You don't trust him," Scott said.
Murdoch flushed. "Trust is something you earn, Scott."
"You trust me, don't you?" Scott said.
"Yes," Murdoch admitted. "Of course I do."
"So, what have I done to earn your trust in the last two months that Johnny hasn't?"
"Scott, your past is a lot different from your brother's."
"Yes, it is," Scott said. "I grew up safe in my grandfather's house, with everything any boy could ever want. Johnny starved on the streets all by himself."
"Scott." Murdoch was stung.
"He's remarkable, my little brother," Scott said. "He's survived a lot, Murdoch. I can't imagine how. I just hope he can survive life with his family."
"You don't understand," Murdoch said.
"Explain it to me, sir."
Murdoch swiveled his chair toward the windows, away from his son. "Jake Thompson spoke to me today. He's the blacksmith in town."
"I've met him," Scott said.
"He has five sons and a daughter, Bess, who is the same age as Teresa. Johnny apparently spent a lot of time with Bess at the dance last night."
"Yes, he did," Scott said quietly. "Bess had a run-in with a half-drunk cowboy named Billy Bartlett at the beginning of the dance. Johnny broke it up and he spent most of the dance talking to Bess, who was in tears."
"Where were her brothers?"
"She begged us not to tell her brothers," Scott said. "She seemed to think they might get into trouble when they killed Bartlett."
"You were there too?"
"Part of the time. Johnny was still trying to get Bess to stop crying when I went inside and stopped Bartlett from trying to dance with Teresa. Incidentally, that's the reason why Teresa is giving me the cold shoulder today. She told Johnny she's grown up and we need to let her make her own decisions."
"Not about Billy Bartlett," Murdoch said positively.
"You know him?"
"Yes," Murdoch said. "He's trouble."
"Apparently, you and the Thompsons think Johnny is trouble too."
"Scott, that's not fair," Murdoch said. "Naturally, Jake was concerned. No father would want his young daughter to get involved with Johnny Madrid."
"He's not Madrid any more."
"It's only been two months, Scott. If you were Jake, wouldn't you be worried?"
Scott looked at his father coldly. "Maybe, if I were Jake, but not if I were you, Murdoch. You should know him better by now."
***
Teresa took the buggy into Green River late the next morning. She wasn't supposed to drive into town without an escort, but she was tired of being treated like a baby. Scott and Johnny got into trouble a lot more often than she did, and no one ever told them to wait for an escort before they went to town. She smiled, just picturing Johnny's face if anyone tried.
She waited until Murdoch and both boys had left for the day, and told one of the stable boys to hitch up the buggy.
"Senorita, who is going with you?" Tomas asked when she climbed in.
Teresa's chin went up. "No one needs to go with me. Let go of the horses, Tomas."
She enjoyed the drive, although she wasn't used to driving a pair and it was harder than she expected. She decided she wouldn't try to stop at the store. When she reached Green River, she headed for her friend Bess's house. Bess was sitting on the porch by herself, busy with some mending.
"Teresa!" she said, her face brightening. "Did you really drive those horses in all by yourself? Papa never lets me take our buggy."
"Come for a drive with me," Teresa called. "I packed enough lunch for two, and we can have a picnic down by the river."
"I shouldn't," Bess said. "I have a lot of mending to do for the boys."
"Never mind the mending," Teresa said. "Your brothers can wait another day for buttons they're just going to lose again. Come on, Bess."
Bess considered it doubtfully. "I don't know, Teresa. I don't think Papa will like it."
Teresa smiled at her friend. "Bess, it's a beautiful day and we don't often get a chance to get away from the chores. Your brothers take time off from their chores, don't they?"
"Yes," Bess said slowly.
"Well, then, why shouldn't we?"
Bess set down her mending basket. "I suppose it will be all right," she said. "Can we stop at the smithy, Teresa, so I can tell Papa where I'm going?"
"We can try," Teresa said, fighting to hold onto the horses when Bess climbed in, her old-fashioned hoopskirt rattling. They shot forward, Bess shrieked, and the horses moved even faster.
Teresa honestly did mean to stop at the blacksmith's but it wasn't possible. The horses continued to forge ahead, and she held on tightly and tried to steer them straight.
The horses decided to stop at the river themselves. The two girls slid down from the buggy quickly, and Teresa snatched the picnic basket just before the bays took off again on their own.
"Oh, no," Bess said, watching them disappear down the road toward Lancer.
"Oh, yes," Teresa said grimly.
Bess peeked at her friend. "Did Murdoch and the boys really let you take the buggy?"
"I didn't ask them." Teresa's dark eyes glowered. "Why should I, Bess? Do your brothers ask your father before they take your buggy?"
"Yes, of course they do," Bess said.
"Well, mine don't. And if the boys don't have to ask, I don't know why I should have to ask."
"Your brothers are awfully nice," Bess ventured. "Especially Johnny. I was kind of scared of him, with all the talk in town about who he is, but he's not a bit like I expected a gunfighter to be."
"He's not a gunfighter any more. But no, he's not what I expected either." Teresa's face softened a little. Neither of her newly acquired brothers had turned out to be what Teresa expected. She sure hadn't ever expected to like Johnny Madrid.
"You must have heard what happened at the dance." Bess's face flamed.
"It wasn't your fault," Teresa said. "Billy Bartlett tried to dance with me too."
"He did? Did you tell him no?"
"I didn't even get a chance. Scott yanked him out of the room."
Bess giggled. "I bet Billy was mad."
"Billy don't get mad," a voice drawled. "He gets even."
The girls whirled. A young cowboy stepped out of the trees, an insolent grin on his unshaven face. "Billy!" Teresa said. "Were you following us?"
"I'm leaving town and figured I'd call on Bess first. And then you drove up too. I didn't think I'd get to pay a visit with both of you." He eyed the picnic basket Teresa was holding. "You got some grub in there?"
"Yes," Teresa said shortly. Despite her anger when Scott stepped in, she had no use for Billy Bartlett and she certainly wouldn't have danced with him. "You can have it. We're going to walk back to town."
"Not so fast," he said, taking her arm. "You two set down right there."
"Murdoch and the boys will be looking for me," Teresa said. "And so will Bess's father and brothers."
"Maybe they will, if they know where you are. They know you took that buggy, Teresa?"
She stared at him. "Yes," she lied defiantly.
"I don't believe you," he said, opening the basket and snagging a piece of chicken. He tore at it with his teeth, his eyes still on the two girls. "You two sure are pretty."
Teresa shivered at the look in his eyes.
***
Johnny tugged the calf out of the mud hole and slapped it on its rump, sending it bawling toward the rest of the herd.
"Cows," he said in disgust. "How can anything be as dumb as a cow?"
Scott smiled at his brother. Johnny was plastered with mud, from head to toe, and the sleeve of his shirt was torn.
"Teresa is going to have something to say to you about dumb cowboys, little brother. Isn't that the shirt she mended just yesterday?"
Johnny grimaced. "Yeah." He reached up for his gun belt, which he'd left on Barranca's saddle, and buckled it around his waist again. "Let's go over to the river, Scott. I need to rinse some of this mud off."
"It's time for lunch anyway," Scott agreed.
Johnny had pulled off his boots and waded into the water, and Scott was brewing coffee, when the runaway bays galloped down the road. The empty buggy bounced behind them.
Scott jumped to his feet and ran to his horse while Johnny came out of the water in a hurry. Scott spurred his horse until he was galloping neck and neck with the runaways. He grabbed the harness and leaped onto one of the bays, fighting to stay on its back as the ground flashed by underneath him. He had stopped the buggy by the time his younger brother put on his boots and caught up to him. Johnny dismounted and went to their heads, murmuring softly to them and checking their legs.
"They seem to be OK," Johnny said, looking up at his brother. "But who would have taken them into town today?"
Scott frowned, and jumped down. "It couldn't have been Murdoch," he said slowly. "He rode south this morning to check on how the crew is doing with that washout. And then he was going to stop at Carson's, to talk over plans for the round up."
"Well, who else would take the buggy?"
"Johnny, you don't suppose Teresa...?"
Johnny looked worried. "She can't drive this pair, Scott. There's no way she could hold them. And she knows she isn't supposed to go into town by herself."
"Yes," Scott said slowly. "She knows that."
Johnny produced a knife from his boot. He slashed the tangled buggy harness, cutting the bays loose, and they took off toward home as he swung back into the saddle. "Let's go, Boston."
"Go where?"
"Into town, to find Teresa." Johnny didn't even wait for Scott to mount before he turned Barranca and started down the road.
Teresa struggled desperately as Billy slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "Don't you dare touch me," she yelled. "My brothers will kill you."
He laughed in her ear, his breath hot, and pawed at her clothes.
"They're going to have to stand in line behind the Thompsons," he said. "If they can catch me."
Teresa turned her head to look at Bess, who was lying on the grass, sobbing, and struggled harder. Billy had tied her to a tree while he took Bess into the bushes, but Teresa had heard everything and her heart was pounding.
"You're a little wildcat, ain't you?" he laughed. "You and me are gonna have a real good time, girl. You just wait, and see what Billy's got for you."
Teresa sank her teeth into his hand. When he released her, swearing, she turned to kick him just as hard as she could. He doubled up in pain, and Teresa ran. She had reached the road when he caught up, grabbing her by her long hair.
"Ow, let me go," she gasped. "You're hurting me."
"I haven't even started," he said, pulling her close again. "You got way too much sass, girl, and I'm going to take it out of you."
"Hold it, Bartlett," a deadly voice said. Teresa sobbed with relief as Billy immediately let go of her and took a few steps back.
"Now, we was just having some fun, Madrid," Billy said. "I bet you know how to have some fun too. No hard feelings. The girl ain't hurt a bit."
"Scott, take Teresa down to the river to wash her face," Johnny said. Teresa stared at him. His face was expressionless, and his blue eyes were like ice. She couldn't see any trace of the laughing boy who sat on her kitchen table yesterday morning. This Johnny was a stranger, a dangerous stranger.
"Bess," she said breathlessly. "We have to take care of Bess."
Johnny's eyes flickered over her face. "Did he hurt her?" he asked, his voice as cold as his eyes.
Teresa gave a small nod, and turned to Scott, who slipped his arm around her. She burst into tears and buried her face in his coat. "Shhh, Teresa," he said softly. "Don't cry, honey, it's all right. Shhh."
"Take her down to the river," Johnny ordered again.
"Wait a minute," Billy objected. "You can't leave me with Madrid. It ain't fair."
Scott looked at him and then at his brother. "We could turn him into the sheriff, Johnny."
"You want Teresa to testify?" Johnny asked. "Or Bess?"
Scott thought about it and shook his head. "No. Definitely not."
"Then go. Teresa don't need to see this."
"No!" Billy said, in a panic. "I ain't going to draw against you, Madrid. I don't have a chance."
"It's the only chance you're going to get," Johnny said evenly. "Too bad you didn't get smart earlier, before it was too late."
Scott helped Teresa across the grass. She went to Bess, who clung to her, crying. Bartlett had ripped Bess's dress, and Scott took off his coat and put it over her awkwardly.
A shot ripped through the air, and their heads all turned.
"Teresa, stay here with Bess for a minute," Scott said. "Don't move from this spot, either of you."
"No!" Teresa panicked at the idea of him leaving. "Please, Scott, stay here."
Someone moved down the path and she froze. She relaxed when Johnny appeared. "It's over, querida," he said gently, brushing a tear off her cheek with one finger. "He's not going to bother you or anyone else again."
"You OK, Johnny?" Scott asked.
"Sure," Johnny said. "What about Teresa and Bess?"
"They're both pretty upset," Scott said. "I think I better go get the doctor and Bess's father. And, I guess, the sheriff too."
"No, I'll go. You stay with them."
***
"She was a good girl," Jake Thompson said. "A good girl, Murdoch."
"She still is, Jake," Murdoch said.
Jake shook his head. "What decent man will have her now?" he said bitterly.
"Jake, nobody else is going to know about this," Murdoch said. "Bartlett is dead, and no one knows what he did except your family and mine, Doc and the sheriff."
"There could be a baby," Jake said. "Doc says we might not even know for a month or so. My god, Murdoch, what am I going to do if there's a baby?"
Murdoch didn't know what to say to his old friend. He had been lucky, he knew. Teresa was badly shaken, but that was all.
"Murdoch," Jake said suddenly. "I'm sorry about what I said to you the other day about your boy."
"It doesn't matter, Jake."
"Yes, it does," Jake said. "He's a good boy. After I talked to you, I heard what happened with Bartlett at the dance. My sons should have been looking after their sister, not yours."
"And I should have been looking after Teresa," Murdoch said bitterly. "If she hadn't taken the buggy to town, this might not have happened, Jake."
"Yes, it would," Jake said unexpectedly. "Bartlett was here when Teresa came by and picked up Bess. She was alone, and he was watching her. He followed them to the river."
"How do you know that?"
"He told them so," Jake said. "And my boys found his tracks. He was already here, planning to hurt my Bess, when Teresa drove up."
Relief flooded through Murdoch. He'd worried Teresa would blame herself, and might even have good reason.
Jake reached for the whiskey bottle on the table, and poured two more measures into their glasses. They were sitting in the kitchen of the Thompson house. Bess was upstairs in her own bed and Teresa was fast asleep on the sofa, thanks to Doc's sleeping powders. The boys were outside somewhere.
"I should get back to the ranch," Murdoch said after tilting the whiskey down his throat.
Jake nodded. "Murdoch, I need to thank your boy for taking care of Bartlett. I couldn't stand it if Bess had to get up in a courtroom and say what he did. And neither could she."
"You don't need to thank him, Jake," Murdoch said, but the blacksmith insisted. They both stepped out onto the porch.
Scott and the Thompson brothers were sitting on the porch in the dark, sharing another bottle of whiskey. "Sir?" Scott said, standing up.
"Where's Johnny?" Murdoch asked.
"He went for a ride," Scott said. "He said he'd see us back at the ranch."
"You didn't go with him?"
Scott shook his head. "He didn't want company."
Murdoch frowned. He hadn't liked the look on Johnny's face when he rode in, but he hadn't had any time to spare for his son while he made sure Teresa was all right and talked to Jake.
"Would you get the horses, Scott? I want to get Teresa home."
"They're ready," Scott said. Murdoch nodded and went inside to get Teresa. Jake held her while he mounted, then handed her up, still fast asleep.
"Are you sure you don't want me to take her?" Scott asked. "It's going to be hard on your back."
"My back will be fine." Murdoch wasn't willing to relinquish his foster daughter to anyone just then. "Let's go, son."
Murdoch carried Teresa to her own room, and left her to Maria's care after smoothing her hair. He stood in the doorway of the great room, watching while Scott put another log on the fire.
"Has anyone seen Johnny?" Murdoch asked.
Scott shook his head.
"I'm going for a ride too."
Scott looked up then. "I'll go with you, sir."
"No," Murdoch said. "You stay here, Scott. I think I know where he might be, but in case I'm wrong, I want someone to be here if he comes home."
"Maybe I should go and you should stay here," Scott suggested.
"No," Murdoch said again. "I need to talk to my son."
Scott held his gaze for a minute, and then nodded. "You do remember what I said to you yesterday?"
"I remember."
His back protested as he climbed in the saddle again. Fortunately, it was a short ride to the rise that looked down on Lancer. Murdoch tethered his horse next to a golden palomino and walked the rest of the way up the hill. Johnny was slumped against a rock, his head down.
"Johnny?" Murdoch knew better than to come up suddenly on this son in the dark. "It's me."
"Yeah, I know," Johnny said. "Could hear you coming a mile away, Old Man."
Murdoch sat down next to his younger son and looked out at the moonlit landscape. "Teresa's all right, thanks to you and Scott."
"What about Bess?"
"I think she'll be all right too, in time. No one else is going to know what happened. Her father is grateful to you for making sure of that."
"He shouldn't be," Johnny said.
"Why not?"
"This wouldn't have happened if I took care of Bartlett in the first place."
"You can't shoot a man just for asking a pretty girl to dance," Murdoch said, smiling a little. "We might all be in trouble then, Johnny."
Johnny was silent. Murdoch waited a few minutes.
"John, I'm proud of the way you handled this."
Johnny looked up. "You're proud I killed another man, Murdoch?"
"I'm proud of you, Johnny," Murdoch said, reaching out to lift his son's chin up. He looked straight into the blue eyes. They were full of pain. "Bartlett deserved exactly what he got."
Johnny pulled away after a minute. "I told Scott we should be letting Teresa make her own decisions," he said, studying his boots. "Guess I was wrong."
"No, I don't think so." Murdoch shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. "Teresa's right. She isn't a child any more and it is time she made some decisions for herself."
"If she hadn't taken that buggy to town, none of this might have happened. How is she going to feel about that?"
"It wouldn't have made any difference. Bartlett was waiting outside Bess's house, Johnny."
"He was?"
Murdoch nodded. "He would have attacked Bess anyway. And it might have been worse."
"Does Teresa know?"
"Yes," Murdoch said. "We may need to remind her, but she knows it."
"Good," Johnny said.
"What about you, Johnny?"
"What do you mean?"
"This was not your fault, not any part of it. Do you know that, son?"
***
A month later, Scott danced with Bess Thompson, conscious of her five brothers lined up watchfully against the wall, arms folded. Johnny had the right idea, Scott thought. He'd skipped the dance entirely and headed straight to the saloon. As soon as he could manage to escape, Scott resolved to follow him. Murdoch was here tonight, and he could look after Teresa.
"I haven't seen your brother Johnny yet," Bess said brightly. "I figured he'd ask me to dance."
Uh-oh, Scott thought, at the look in the girl's eyes. He knew there would be no baby, from something Teresa had said, and it appeared that Bess had fully recovered. At least, she certainly wasn't staying at home and moping. She was wearing a new dress and her blue eyes sparkled. If anything, Scott thought uneasily, the girl had gained new confidence in the last month. She was definitely not the same sweet, timid girl they rescued at that first dance.
"Johnny isn't here tonight," he said.
"Oh," Bess said, the light going out in her eyes. "Why not? Doesn't he like dances?"
"Well, no, not much."
"I should have guessed that," Bess said, dimpling.
"Why?" Scott said. "You barely know him."
"Oh, sometimes you can get to know someone real quickly," Bess said airily. "Don't you think so?"
Scott swung her around, and they advanced down the room. He was beginning to get the hang of western dances, and he was grateful this one carried him away from his partner.
"Thank you," he said, delivering Bess back to her brothers when the dance was finished.
"Aren't you going to ask me to dance again, Scott?" Bess asked, laughing at him. "I don't think your brother will mind."
"Bess!" her oldest brother growled, but she paid no attention.
"I would," Scott said politely. "But unfortunately I can't stay for the rest of the dance."
He found Johnny in the back of the saloon, whispering something to a dark-haired girl who was sitting on his lap. She gave Scott an unfriendly look when Johnny abruptly stood her on her feet.
"You'd rather talk to him than to me, cowboy?"
"Yep," Johnny said, his eyes dancing. "But after we finish talking, you and me might find something else we can do, Mandy."
She smiled at him, and ran her hand expertly across the back of his neck. "Don't talk too long," she said and walked off with a provocative wiggle.
Scott watched her go, an appreciative smile on his face, and sat down. "It seems you've got admirers everywhere, little brother."
Johnny flushed. "What do you mean?"
"Bess Thompson was asking after you at the dance," Scott said.
Johnny's hand paused as he poured tequila from the bottle on the table. He filled his glass and tossed it back, then filled it again. "Yeah?"
"Slow down, brother," Scott advised him. "Bess seems to have a crush on you. Have you seen her lately?"
"Just for a few minutes when I drove Teresa to visit with her last week," Johnny said.
"And that was enough to keep you away from the dance tonight?" Scott asked.
Johnny glanced at him. "Boston, it isn't funny."
Scott's expression changed. "I know it isn't," he said, reaching for his brother's wrist as he picked up the tequila bottle again. "No, Johnny. Talk to me."
Johnny looked cornered. "Scott, I'm not interested in Bess Thompson."
"Well, she's sure interested in you. Is it because of what happened to her?"
"No," Johnny said quickly. "It wasn't her fault and I don't care about that. But she's just a kid, Scott."
"She's about the same age as that sweet little armful you were just holding," Scott pointed out. "Maybe even older."
"Mandy isn't a kid. Any more than I am."
Scott nodded. He knew what his brother was saying. Johnny was just about the same age as Teresa and her friends, but he was much older. Johnny never had a chance to be a kid, Scott thought sadly.
"Johnny, Bess isn't exactly making it any secret that she's interested in you. And she's already been badly hurt."
Johnny sighed. "I know, Boston. I don't want to hurt her again."
"You'd better be careful," Scott warned him. "Very, very careful. If that girl's brothers get the wrong idea in their heads, they're going to take both of us apart."
"What do you mean, both of us?"
"You don't think I'm going to let anyone beat up my little brother, do you?"
Johnny gave him a lopsided smile. "It's nothing to do with you. Scott, this is my problem."
"No, it is not," Scott said emphatically. "Johnny, this is our problem. And I think we better talk to Murdoch about it too, as soon as possible."
"No," Johnny said instantly.
"Johnny, if Jake gets the wrong idea, and he easily could, he's going to go straight to Murdoch. Don't you think it's only fair to warn him first?"
"No. This is my problem, and I'll take care of it. Promise you won't tell him."
"Johnny, this is not a good idea."
"Promise, Scott."
Scott couldn't resist those blue eyes. He knew he should, but he couldn't. "All right, I promise," he said reluctantly. "For now, at least."
***
Murdoch sat in church, listening to the minister's voice drone through the sermon. His older son and his ward sat next to him, one on each side. Johnny, as usual, had skipped Sunday service. Murdoch didn't like it, but he had also started to learn to pick his battles. He wasn't going to order his son to attend church with the rest of the family. He had specified he would call the tune when it came to the ranch, but he knew there were limits. Besides, if Maria had ever taken Johnny to church, it would have been a Catholic church, not the Protestant church.
The Thompsons were in church, filling their usual pew. Bess looked pretty, Murdoch thought, with her blonde hair swept up under a blue hat that matched her eyes and new dress. She seemed to have bounced back from her ordeal, far more quickly than anyone expected.
Murdoch suspected her father and brothers hadn't recovered. They hovered protectively around the girl.
Murdoch looked at Teresa out of the corner of his eye, giving a silent prayer of thanksgiving. He met Scott's eye, and frowned as his older son looked away guiltily.
There was something on Scott's mind, Murdoch thought. He'd been distracted at breakfast and he initially said he wasn't coming to the service and then changed his mind. Scott had disappeared at the beginning of the dance last night, and hadn't appeared again until the very end, when they were climbing into the buggy to return to the ranch. Johnny hadn't bothered to show up at the dance at all. Murdoch suspected his sons had spent Saturday night in the saloon.
He hadn't even seen his younger son that morning. Johnny didn't appear at breakfast. Murdoch figured disapprovingly that he was sleeping off the evening's activities, and he did intend to say something about that.
The congregation rose for the final hymn, and Murdoch realized he'd missed most of the sermon. He rose, and filed out with his neighbors.
"Murdoch!" Jake Thompson pumped his hand, beaming. "I was hoping to have a word with you this morning, you and that boy of yours. Where is he?"
"Scott?" Murdoch asked. "He went to get our buggy."
"No, no, not Scott. Where's Johnny?"
"Johnny doesn't usually attend service with us," Murdoch said a little stiffly.
"Really?" Jake frowned. "My Bess always goes to service. Well, they'll have to work that out between them, won't they?"
Murdoch looked puzzled. He had no idea what Jake was talking about.
"Teresa's been a good friend to my Bess this past month," Jake said, looking over to where the two girls were talking to some of the other young people in the congregation. "I appreciate it, Murdoch. Some folks wouldn't let their little girl associate with Bess if they knew."
"Nonsense," Murdoch said. "Jake, it wasn't Bess's fault. I'm glad to see that she's doing so well."
"Well, nothing like a little romance to bring a smile back to a girl's face, eh, Murdoch?" Jake said. "Now, I want to talk to you about what I'm going to do for my girl. It can't be much, not with five brothers to get started too, but I've set aside a fair share for her."
"That's good," Murdoch said absently.
Jake reddened. "I know it doesn't compare to Lancer, Murdoch, but I don't think your boy could find a better wife than my Bess."
That got Murdoch's attention. "What did you say, Jake?" he asked.
Jake's eyes narrowed. "Didn't he tell you?"
"Didn't who tell me what?" Murdoch said.
"Johnny," Jake said.
"I haven't seen Johnny today," Murdoch admitted.
"He and Bess are engaged."
Murdoch's jaw dropped. "They're what?"
"Oh, he hasn't been to see me yet," Jake said. "You can tell him I'll expect to see him this afternoon, but you can also tell him he's more than welcome. I hope he'll join us for Sunday dinner."
"Jake, just when did this happen?" Murdoch demanded.
"Last night, at the dance. He shouldn't have spoken to Bess first, not without talking to me, but I understand young people don't always stop to think. And she's so happy I don't have the heart to make a fuss."
Murdoch felt cold. As far as he knew, Johnny hadn't been to the dance. And he didn't think the boy had ever given Bess Thompson a second glance. He didn't know what in hell was going on, but he intended to find out, quickly.
"Jake, I'm sorry, but I have to go," Murdoch said. "Scott has the bays hitched up, and I don't want to leave them standing too long."
"Course," Jake said. "I'll be seeing you, Murdoch."
Murdoch collected Teresa in a hurry and went to the buggy.
"I'll drive," he said, twitching the reins out of Scott's hands, and pulling out at a speed that was more Johnny's style than his.
They reached the ranch in record time, and Teresa disappeared into the kitchen to help Maria. Scott started for the barn with the buggy.
"Just a minute!" Murdoch said. "Scott, I want to talk to you. Someone else can take care of the horses."
Scott reluctantly followed his father into the great room.
"Scott, Jake Thompson informed me this morning that Johnny and Bess got engaged last night at the dance."
Scott looked uncomfortable. Murdoch watched him closely, but Scott didn't volunteer anything.
"Scott, what's going on? I didn't even see Johnny at the dance."
"I didn't see him there either," Scott said carefully.
Murdoch frowned. "You weren't there long yourself. I assumed both of you were in the saloon."
"Yes, sir," Scott said.
"Yes, you were in the saloon?"
"Yes, sir," Scott said.
"Then how did Johnny get engaged to Bess Thompson at the dance?"
"He didn't."
"Scott, if that boy is playing games with Bess Thompson, he doesn't have to worry about her brothers taking his head off. I'll do it for them."
"You really need to talk to Johnny about this, sir," Scott said.
***
The front door opened and Johnny walked in, whistling.
"Morning," he said cheerfully, tossing his hat at its peg. He froze in the doorway as his father swung to glare at him.
"Don't stop there," Murdoch said. "Come in and sit down, John. We have something to discuss."
Scott's first impulse was to escape. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to go change out of this suit," he said.
"No, you stay right where you are," Murdoch ordered. He sat down in his chair. "Both of you, sit down and start talking."
"Start talking about what?" Johnny asked cautiously.
"Your future father-in-law informed me this morning that you got engaged at the dance last night," Murdoch said. "He expects to see you this afternoon, to ask him properly for his daughter's hand, and he wants you to stay for Sunday dinner."
Scott had never seen his reckless little brother look scared, but the look on Johnny's face could only be described as terrified. "My future what? Murdoch, I'm not engaged."
"Should you be?" Murdoch asked bluntly.
"What?" Johnny yelped. Scott stood and moved to the liquor cabinet to pour three stiff measures of Scotch.
"Scott, it's not even noon yet," Murdoch objected.
"I think this qualifies as an exception," Scott said. "I need a drink, Johnny needs a drink and I think you're going to need a drink too, sir."
Murdoch scowled at both of them, but he took a healthy swig of his drink. "John, I want to know what's going on and I want to know right now."
"I don't know either," Johnny said.
"How could you get engaged without even knowing it?"
"I didn't."
Scott thought it was time to take a hand. "Murdoch, wait," he said quickly, before his father exploded. "You need to listen to what Johnny has to say. He wasn't at the dance last night, and he didn't even see Bess Thompson. Did you, Johnny?"
Johnny shook his head.
"Then how did she get the idea that you're engaged?" Murdoch growled.
"Not from me," Johnny said. "Not ever, Murdoch."
"Where were you last night?"
"In the saloon," Johnny said. "And then with a girl. A different girl."
"Johnny, look at me," Murdoch ordered. "Are you telling me Bess just made this up, out of nothing?"
Johnny looked at Scott helplessly, and then back at his father. "I've only talked to that girl three times. The night of that dance when Scott and me stopped Bartlett from bothering her, the day Bartlett hurt her, and last week, when I dropped Teresa off at her house. Murdoch, she's way too young for me."
"She's only two years younger than you, Johnny," Murdoch said.
Johnny shook his head. "It don't have anything to do with birthdays."
"She can't be right in the head, not if you're telling me the truth," Murdoch said. "This is going to kill Jake. If he and his sons don't kill you first, Johnny."
"Johnny didn't do anything," Scott said.
"You want to be the one who tells Jake Thompson and his sons that?" Murdoch asked.
"No. But I certainly don't think Johnny should be the one who breaks the news."
"Johnny isn't leaving the ranch until this is settled," Murdoch said. Johnny opened his mouth, but Murdoch cut him off. "I mean it, John. I don't want you to go any farther than the barn by yourself. You will work with Cipriano, Scott or me, and you will stay where we can see you at all times if you leave the hacienda. Is that understood?"
"Murdoch, I can take care of myself. I have, for a long time."
"Johnny, I want your word on this." Murdoch looked at his younger son, and Scott saw his father's eyes suddenly soften. "I can't lose you again, son, and neither can Scott. Give us your word."
Johnny appealed to Scott with his eyes, but for once Scott found himself in complete agreement with his father. "He's right, Johnny. It's just until we can get this straightened out."
"What if you can't straighten it out?" Johnny asked.
Scott grinned. "You're cute, little brother, but you're not that irresistible."
"Oh, yeah?" Johnny said.
"Yeah," Scott said. "Promise, Johnny."
Johnny looked rebellious. "OK," he finally said reluctantly. "I'll promise for today. But if it's not settled, then I'll handle it myself."
***
Murdoch and Scott rode into town that afternoon. Johnny was in the corral, working with a young colt. Murdoch had pulled Cipriano aside and filled him in, and the segundo had promised immediately that he would keep an eye on the youngest Lancer.
He usually did, anyway, Murdoch knew, even if Johnny might not realize it. Cipriano and his wife had been at Lancer from the beginning, before his sons were born. They'd adored Johnny when he was just a baby and grieved with Murdoch when his mother took him away. Senora Cipriano had been Johnny's nurse, and she loved him as if he were her own. The couple didn't have any children of their own. They'd lost their own baby just before Johnny arrived in the world and couldn't have another. There was no one else in the world Murdoch would trust more to watch over his son.
Jake and Bess were sitting on the front porch when the Lancers arrived.
"Murdoch," Jake called. "You and Scott are always welcome, but I can't say you're the one I was expecting to see today. Where's Johnny?"
Murdoch dismounted stiffly. "I was wondering if we could talk to you about that, Jake."
"Well, come on up and set yourself down," Jake said. "Bess, go and get some lemonade."
Murdoch remained standing. "Maybe we could take a little walk, Jake."
Jake looked at him, puzzled, and stood up. "Sure," he said.
They walked out toward the small orchard behind the house. "Jake, I don't know exactly how to say this," Murdoch began.
"You ain't gonna tell me your boy has cold feet, are you?" Jake said. "He'll get over it, Murdoch. We all did."
"Jake, there's no good way to say this. Johnny didn't go to the dance last night," Murdoch said.
Jake's eyes narrowed. "The two of them sneaked off somewhere? I don't like that, Murdoch. I don't like that at all."
"No," Murdoch said quickly. "They didn't sneak off, Jake. Johnny didn't see Bess at all last night."
"I don't understand," Jake said.
"Neither does Johnny," Murdoch said. He hesitated. "Jake, Bess has been through a lot. With the shock, and everything, it's understandable if she's not thinking straight."
Jake's eyes blazed. "I hope you aren't calling my little girl a liar, Murdoch," he said.
Murdoch felt his own temper snap. "I hope you're not calling my son a liar either, Jake."
"Wait, both of you," Scott said, stepping between the two gigantic men. "This isn't getting us anywhere."
Murdoch knew his son was right. He controlled his anger with an effort, and looked at his old friend. Jake was still breathing fire, his big hands clutched into fists.
"Jake, Scott's right," he said. "We need to talk this over like reasonable men."
"I'm telling you right now, Murdoch, I'm not going to be reasonable if your boy hurts my girl."
"Jake, Johnny hasn't hurt your girl. He hasn't been near her. He's seen her once this past month, for a few minutes when he dropped Teresa off to visit."
Jake stared at him. "I don't believe you," he said.
"Ask your sons if they've ever seen them together," Murdoch said. "Your boys were looking out for her at the dance last night. Ask if any of them ever saw Johnny."
"I'll do that, right this minute," Jake said. "Let's go over to the barn."
The Thompson sons were playing cards at a rickety table in the tack room. They swept them quickly out of sight and stood up as their father strode in.
"I'm going to forget I saw those cards on the Lord's Day, but I better not ever see them again," Jake said sternly. "You boys listen to me. I want to know which ones of you saw Johnny Lancer with your sister last night."
They looked at each other, shuffling their feet.
"Well?" Jake said. "I told you to keep an eye on your sister at the dance."
"We did," the oldest said. "She wasn't out of our sight for a minute, Pa. We took it in turns."
"Then who saw her with Johnny Lancer?"
No one answered. "I saw her dance with Scott," the youngest finally said. "All of us did, near the beginning of the dance. I didn't see Johnny last night."
"Did any of you boys see Johnny last night?"
There was a long silence. "Have any of you ever seen Johnny with your sister?" Jake asked. The boys shook their heads, and Jake slumped.
"Dear Lord," he said.
Murdoch put a hand on his shoulder. "Jake," he said gently. "Let's go back up to the house. I don't think Bess should be alone."
"Murdoch, I don't know what to say to you."
"You don't have to say anything," Murdoch said. "Come on, Jake."
When they reached the house, it was empty. Jake went through it, calling, and then came downstairs again. "She's not here," he said. "She must have gone for a ride. Her pony was out in the back pasture, and it's gone too."
An unwelcome idea occurred to Murdoch and he looked over at Scott. His son's eyes held the same thought.
"Jake, we're going back to Lancer," Murdoch said. "You and the boys better come too."
***
Teresa was sitting on a bench in the kitchen garden, snapping beans. Johnny sat on the grass, cleaning his gun. Fat honeybees buzzed over the bright flowers and herbs that lined the flagstone paths. The afternoon sunlight was warm on Johnny's face, and he yawned and stretched out lazily on the grass when he finished with the gun. He was fast asleep in seconds.
Teresa let him sleep, figuring he had to be exhausted. She knew he hadn't even come home until nearly sunrise. She and Maria were already in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready, when Johnny walked in. Maria had poured him a tall glass of milk and filled a tortilla with scrambled eggs, scolding him all the time in Spanish. Johnny had gulped the rest of his milk, grabbed his tortilla off the plate and headed out the door again when they heard Murdoch's door open upstairs and his footsteps cross the hall. Even if Johnny had found a place to nap for a few hours, while the rest of the family was at church, it wasn't nearly enough.
She looked up, surprised, as someone walked through the garden toward the house. "Bess? You didn't ride out here by yourself, did you?"
"I wanted to see Johnny," Bess said.
Teresa was puzzled. "Well, I wouldn't wake him if I were you," she said. "He'll be grouchy as a bear. Come in the house, Bess, and I'll show you the new pattern I got from Maisy Turner."
Bess shook her head. "I need to talk to Johnny. I don't know what to name the little girl. I picked out names for the boys, but I can't decide about the girl."
"What girl?" Teresa asked.
"We're going to have three children. Two little boys with black hair like their daddy, and a little girl with golden hair like mine."
Teresa looked at her friend, beginning to feel a little afraid. "Bess, let's go into the house," she said.
Bess's eyes were oddly blank. "I don't want to go into the house with you, Teresa. I came to see Johnny."
"Bess," Teresa started to say, putting her hand on the other girl's arm. Bess yanked it away.
"Don't you touch me," she said. "What are you doing here with Johnny, all by yourself? Are you trying to steal him from me?"
"Bess, he's my brother," Teresa said, definitely alarmed now. "Calm down."
The other girl fumbled with her pocket, and pulled a small derringer out. She pointed it at Teresa, who stood absolutely still. "I know what you're trying to do," she hissed. "And it's not going to work, Teresa."
"Senorita," a quiet voice said. "Put down the gun, por favor."
Teresa turned her head. Cipriano was standing by the gate, holding a rifle casually in his hands. He kept his eyes on Bess, who swung the derringer toward him.
"Go away," she said. "Both of you, just go away. Johnny and I want to be alone."
"Teresa, move," Cipriano said. "Quickly."
"Cipriano, we can't leave Johnny with her," Teresa objected.
"Teresa." Cipriano's voice was firm.
Teresa hesitated, and started to walk toward him. She watched Bess uneasily. It was very still in the garden. Even the birds had stopped singing.
The sound of hoofbeats broke the spell. Bess turned her head, and Teresa suddenly lunged toward her, reaching for the derringer and forcing it up. It discharged and both girls fell, still struggling.
Johnny was awake, and moving faster than Teresa dreamed possible. He grabbed Bess, and pulled her off Teresa.
"No!" Bess shrieked hysterically. "Don't touch me!"
Murdoch, Scott and the Thompsons charged through the garden gate. "You get away from my girl," Jake bellowed.
"Your girl pulled a gun on Teresa," Johnny said furiously.
"What?" Jake's eyes went to the derringer on the grass. "Bess, did you take that gun out of my desk?"
Bess stopped struggling, and Johnny dropped his hands. She sank down on the grass and started to rock back and forth, humming tunelessly.
She still hadn't said a word when her father and brothers took her home.
An hour later, Teresa was on the sofa in the great room. She had a black eye, where Bess had caught her with her fist, and was holding a raw steak to it. Murdoch had finally dozed off in his desk chair, and Scott had strolled down to the barn to talk to Cipriano. Johnny was sitting on the rug, leaning against the sofa.
"Teresa, you still awake?"
"Yes," she said cautiously.
"What were you thinking, going after Bess? You could have been killed."
"I was just trying to look out for you," she said.
"Teresa, I can take care of myself," he protested. "I'm not a little kid." He stopped and shot her a suspicious look.
She smiled at him. "Johnny, honestly, I didn't even stop to think," she admitted. "You were asleep, she was crazy, and I was afraid she'd hurt you."
Johnny's face was rueful. "Guess Scott and me don't always stop to think either."
"No, you don't," Teresa said. "I'm not a child either, Johnny. I can fight my own battles, or some of them anyway."
"I know," he said, reaching up and taking her hand. "I'm sorry, querida."
"Me too."
"I'm not promising I'm always going to stop and let you handle a problem all by yourself," he warned.
"That's OK." Teresa's smile grew. "I guess I can't promise that either."
***
Murdoch stopped to see Jake the next time he rode into town, and was surprised to find one of the Thompson sons in charge of the forge. Jake never took a day off.
"Matthew, where's your father?"
"He took Bess back east, to stay with his sister," Matthew said. "Doc thinks she'll be better away from Green River, somewhere where she can start fresh."
"I hope so," Murdoch said. "Matthew, I'm truly sorry about your sister."
"Thanks, Mr. Lancer," the young man said. "We know it wasn't any of Johnny's fault, what happened. We should have known, all of us, that she still wasn't right. We're just sorry we let it go so far."
"I hope she'll be all right," Murdoch said.
"Doc says he thinks so," Matthew said. "And Pa wired that she's settling right in with Aunt Jane. He's going to stay with her another week, just to be sure, and then he'll come home. Is Teresa all right?"
"She's fine," Murdoch said.
"Hope she's coming to the dance next Saturday night," Matthew said. "I sure would like to ask her to dance, if you and your boys wouldn't mind."
"I think she might like that," Murdoch said slowly. "But it's her decision, not ours."
THE END
Whistle, November 2004