Lancer stories by Whistle

Tangled Heir

The child's eyes were brown, uncompromisingly brown, like the wispy braids tangled over her shoulders. She looked up blankly, her square, freckled face streaked with dirt and dried tears. A bruise marred her cheek. She wore a faded, torn dress, slightly too large for her, and clutched a battered rag doll.

"Hey," Johnny said softly, kneeling down. "My name is Johnny. What's yours?"

She scowled at him. "That's none of your business. You get away from me or my big brothers will make you sorry."

"Yeah?" A smile tugged at Johnny's mouth. "Where are your brothers?"

"Not far," the girl said, glowering. "You better git."

"Johnny, come on," Scott said impatiently, sticking his head out the door of the store. His eyes fell on the child. "Who's this?"

Johnny looked at the girl, who glared back at him implacably.

"I think she might be a princess," he said, his blue eyes dancing. "In disguise, of course."

Scott studied the filthy child and his brows rose. He glanced at his brother.

"Johnny, we don't have much time. In exactly three hours, we are supposed to meet Murdoch at the bank. You need a suit, a tie, a bath and a haircut. Pronto, brother."

"I don't need a haircut," Johnny objected.

"Johnny," Scott said, exasperated. "Get in here, right now."

"Sometimes big brothers aren't exactly all they're cracked up to be," Johnny told the child.

"Is he your brother?" she asked, the brown eyes widening.

"Yeah," Johnny said.

"He don't look anything like you," she pointed out.

"Nope," he agreed. "His bad luck, huh?"

"Johnny!" Scott said. "Come on. Right now."

Johnny sighed and looked at the girl again. "He's kind of bossy," he told her. "I guess I better go. You sure your brothers are around here?"

She looked from Johnny to Scott uncertainly. Scott's eyes narrowed.

"Johnny," he said again.

The girl walked up to Scott and slipped a grimy hand into his.

"Johnny!" Scott said.

***

Johnny buttoned the white shirt and tucked it into his new trousers before he walked into the sitting room in the hotel suite and glanced into another room. The little girl was in bed, still clutching her doll. Teresa had scrubbed both of them and the doll was still damp, but the girl refused to let it go.

"You OK?" Johnny asked.

She ducked her head, refusing to look at him. "Where's Scott?"

"He's around here someplace." Johnny tugged irritably on his starched collar. "Do your brothers ever have to wear ties?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"That's what I thought," he said softly.

She looked up at him, frowning. "I want to go home."

"Is it near here?" Johnny asked.

Her mouth set in a straight, stubborn line and she hunched her shoulders. She didn't answer and he didn't say anything else. Instead, he wandered back into the sitting room and looked out one of the windows at the busy street.

The outer door opened and Scott entered the suite, already dressed. His eyes went to his brother immediately and he sighed.

"Johnny, where is your tie? And the vest and jacket?"

"In there," Johnny said vaguely, waving at the room they were sharing.

"Come on," Scott said, dragging his brother along. "I'll tie it for you."

Johnny sighed but he stood still while Scott expertly knotted the hated tie and straightened out his collar.

"Dunno why these people need to see all of us," he grumbled. "You and Murdoch could've handled this."

Scott appraised his brother. He was clean-shaven, but hadn't let the barber do more than trim his dark hair. There hadn't been time to have a suit made for him, but one off the rack fit him fairly well after a few rushed alterations. Johnny was still wearing his boots, not the new shoes they'd purchased. Scott sighed and decided to let that pass without comment. He'd already worked more of a miracle than Murdoch had any right to expect. He really didn't think he could do any more, not in the 15 minutes they had left to get to the bank.

"They are signing a deal with all three of the partners in Lancer, not just two of them," he said, snagging Johnny's wrist as it reached up to the necktie. "Don't you dare touch that tie."

Johnny let out his breath in a long, gusty sigh.

"It's only for a week," Scott said to him.

"I have to wear this tie for a week?" Johnny looked outraged and Scott's mouth twitched.

"No," he said. "Not that one. We bought a half-dozen. Now, come on. Unless you want to explain to Murdoch why we're late?"

Johnny reached for his gun belt and Scott grabbed his arm again. "You don't need that," he said.

"Are you kidding?"

"I am quite serious," Scott said. "Come on, Johnny, or we really will be late."

"Not without my gun," Johnny said, folding his arms.

"Don't try to tell me you don't have a gun, brother. Unless you've finally stopped carrying that derringer?"

Johnny didn't smile. "That's just back-up," he said.

Scott knew the obstinate look on his brother's face and he knew he just didn't have enough time to win this argument. He wasn't sure there would ever be enough time to win this argument.

"All right," he conceded. "But come on."

***

Johnny started fidgeting almost immediately. Murdoch Lancer frowned at his younger son, willing him to sit still. They had been ushered upstairs, to a meeting room that looked down on a park. An enormous, gleaming mahogany table stood in the middle of the elegant room. Bookshelves lined the inner wall, flanking a marble fireplace, and an Oriental carpet covered the floor. One of the bankers offered them coffee, poured from a silver pot into delicate china cups. It was quite a contrast from Murdoch's first visit to a San Francisco bank nearly 25 years ago. Johnny hadn't even been born and Scott was just a baby, on his way back to Boston with his grandfather.

Murdoch, still in shock at Catherine's death, had followed her father to the city but he'd arrived too late again. Harlan Garrett had already sailed, taking the infant with him. In a fury, Murdoch decided to book passage on the next ship and go after his father-in-law and son. But he hadn't had nearly enough money with him. In truth, he didn't have enough money in the bank back home either. They'd poured just about every cent they had into the ranch. Murdoch decided to apply for a loan and walked into the first bank he came across.

He didn't get far. Dusty from a week on the trail, unshaven, and probably more than a little wild-eyed with grief and anger, he had burst inside. He eventually made it into an office, but the junior banker he saw wasn't impressed when he offered to put the ranch up as collateral. The man wasn't unkind but he firmly refused to consider any type of loan. Murdoch had left even angrier.

He'd had no luck at any of the other banks he visited that day either. Finally, exhausted, he wandered back down to the waterfront and stared at the harbor. His son, his and Catherine's son, was on the ocean, miles away by now. His head drooped as he thought of her. She was dead, buried before he reached the miserable little town where their child was born. He didn't even know if Catherine had seen the baby before she died. They had decided to name him Scott if he was a boy, Scott Garrett Lancer. They'd picked out a girl's name too, but Catherine was so sure her baby would be a boy.

He was the reason they were building the ranch, he and the other children who would follow him. An only child, Catherine said her first son had to have a brother. And the two little boys would both need a sister or two, and maybe another brother. They'd laughed and made so many plans together, for the ranch and for the children who would grow up there.

***

"Sir?" Scott had been watching his father, who didn't seem to be paying attention.

Murdoch met his son's serious grayish-blue eyes, so like his mother's, and flushed. He looked over at Johnny, hoping his younger son hadn't also noticed his lack of attention. Mischief lit the sapphire eyes and Murdoch looked away hastily. He should have known better. Johnny noticed everything. The boy seemed to have a sixth sense. Murdoch supposed he should be grateful, since it had helped to keep the gunfighter alive, but he hated the reminder of his son's former occupation.

Johnny had taken one sip of the bank's coffee and set it down. Murdoch agreed with him privately. He also preferred the dark, strong coffee brewed on the trail and at the ranch. This was barely coffee, to his taste, but he drank it politely.

Scott was keeping up the conversation for both of them. The bank attorney's son was attending Harvard, and Scott chatted with him politely about the school and Boston, even while he kept a cautious eye on his brother and father.

"No sign of the child," someone said and Murdoch's attention drifted back to the conversation.

"How old is this girl?" Scott asked absently.

"Nine years old," the lawyer said.

Murdoch looked again at his younger son, thinking of the waif in the suite with Teresa. She was nearly the same age as the missing girl, but she certainly wasn't the only heir to a mining fortune, even if her vocabulary rivaled a miner's.

Johnny had picked her up off the street. Murdoch, who wished desperately that someone had taken his bruised, hungry little boy off the streets years ago, hadn't had the heart to object when his sons brought her back to the hotel. Teresa fed her, bathed her, and tucked her into bed while the brothers went out again to finish their errands.

Murdoch had an appointment to meet an old friend for lunch and hadn't seen them again until they met at the bank.

They had been standing in the bank lobby. Murdoch's eyes found Scott right away. The tall, blond young man looked at home in the city. He wore one of the tailored suits he'd brought with him from Boston months ago. Murdoch was used to seeing him in work clothes now, but Scott looked just as comfortable and even more self-assured in his city clothes.

Murdoch smiled inwardly at the dark-haired younger man next to Scott. Dressed in a dark suit and a tie, Johnny radiated pent-up energy that drew eyes to him. Murdoch realized suddenly, bemused, that the boy's flamboyant pink shirt and concho pants served as a form of camouflage, diverting attention from the force that was Johnny. Now, when he was dressed more conventionally, his vivid, handsome face stood out in the busy lobby and Murdoch wasn't the only one looking at him curiously.

Both of his sons were good-looking young men, he thought, so different from each other and so like their mothers. The two of them had become allies, despite the chasm between their temperaments and upbringings, as they both struggled to adjust to their new lives on the ranch. That had turned into an unlikely friendship. They were closer than Murdoch would ever have believed possible. It wasn't exactly what they'd planned, so many years ago, but Catherine's son did finally have a brother and both of them were home on the ranch at last.

***

"Duncan Garth hit it big in '49," the lawyer was saying to Scott. "And he kept his money, which was even more unusual. The old man is a genius when it comes to investing his money and an absolute miser about spending any of it. You'd never know, the way he lives, that he's one of the wealthiest men in the territory."

"And this missing girl is his daughter?" Scott asked.

"Granddaughter," the lawyer corrected. "He only had one son, who died years ago when the girl was just a baby. She was living with her mother, or so everyone thought, until the old man had a heart attack last month and decided he'd better see her. That's when his attorney discovered her mother had died too and the girl had disappeared. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack, trying to find a nine-year-old who could be anywhere, if she's still alive at all. They don't even have a photograph."

Scott glanced at his father and brother. A missing child struck too close to home for the Lancers. "How will they know it's her if they find her?"

The lawyer smiled. "I'm told there is a way to tell, but you'll understand they're not revealing what it is. Since the story got into the newspapers, hundreds of people have come forward with little girls claiming to be Mary Elizabeth Garth. There's a large reward, of course, and it's attracted some pretty unsavory characters."

"I understand," Scott said.

Johnny looked increasingly bored. Scott shot him a warning look, just as the door opened and another man came into the room.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen," he boomed. "It couldn't be avoided. Murdoch, it's good to see you again."

"George," Murdoch said, rising and shaking the other man's hand. "These are my sons, Scott and John. Boys, this is George Fitch, the president of the bank."

"How do you do, sir," Scott said. The banker shook hands with both of them. His eyes lingered on Johnny.

"My God, you do look like your mother, boy," he said. "It's remarkable."

Johnny's eyes widened. "You knew my mother?"

"Oh, yes," Fitch said, smiling. "We were all jealous that Murdoch met her first and married her before anyone else had a chance. Half the men in San Francisco fell in love with her the first time he brought her here, before you were born."

Johnny gave Murdoch a curious look. Scott was curious too, but this wasn't the right time to ask their father to talk about the past, if there ever was a right time. The bank president was sitting down and getting down to business.

***

Agreements finally signed, they headed back to the hotel, hailing a cab to Johnny's disgust. He didn't know why they couldn't just walk. He loosened his tie and flushed as his brother looked at him.

"We're done with the bank, aren't we?"

"We are still in the city," Scott said. "In the city, businessmen wear suits and ties, Johnny."

"Yeah? Well, I'm not a businessman," Johnny said. "I'm a rancher."

Scott grinned. "Same thing, brother, especially if this deal works out the way it should."

Murdoch had finally consented reluctantly to his older son's proposal to diversify the ranch holdings. Scott hadn't taken no for an answer. He'd bounced right back with more figures until his father finally agreed in the hope of never hearing another word about it at breakfast or supper.

"We're ranchers, first and foremost," he growled. "But your brother is right, John. When you're in the city, you need to dress appropriately. I learned that lesson the hard way, the first time I ever visited a bank here. And it cost me a lot."

Scott's curiosity grew. His father's face looked miles away, just as it had when they were waiting for George Fitch.

"Do you visit the city often, sir?" he asked.

"No," Murdoch said. "Not if I can avoid it. Too many bad memories here."

Johnny's eyes turned stormy. "Memories of my mother?"

Murdoch was startled. "No, John," he said. "Your mother and I had a good trip here, a wonderful trip, just after we were married. That's not a bad memory at all. It's probably the happiest memory I have of this city."

Johnny's face showed his doubt and Murdoch hesitated, looking at his sons. He finally decided to speak. "After Scott was born, and his mother died, his grandfather took him to San Francisco to board a ship to Boston. I was more than a week behind them. I arrived in the city after they'd already sailed."

Scott stiffened. All his life, he had wondered why his father didn't want him and had just let his grandfather take him. It was news to him that his father had made any effort to follow them.

"I wanted to get on the next ship," Murdoch said. "Only I didn't have enough money with me for the passage. I tried to borrow it from the bank, but they didn't believe I had anything worth putting up as collateral. Guess I can't blame them much. I'd been on the trail for more than a week by then, and I was nearly out of my mind with grief. That was the first time I met George Fitch."

"He's the one who turned you down?" Johnny asked.

"He was the first banker who turned me down," Murdoch said. "I was angry at the time but he was the best of them."

Scott was silent but Johnny had another question. "Ever wonder what would have happened if he said yes?"

Murdoch looked down. "Yes, I've wondered. I wondered for a long time."

***

The girl was fast asleep when they returned to the suite.

"She's worn out, poor thing," Teresa said.

"Did you get a doctor to look at her?" Murdoch asked, easing his own tie. He was no fonder of them than his younger son, although he wouldn't admit it to Johnny.

"He just left a little while ago. She's undernourished, and he gave me some tonic for her. And she has some bruises, mostly on her arms and legs." Teresa's voice trailed off and she shot a quick look at Johnny, to see how he reacted, before she went on. "Basically, the doctor says she's healthy but needs some care and decent food."

"Did she tell you her name or anything about herself?"

Teresa shook her head. "She wouldn't. The doctor couldn't get any information out of her either."

Murdoch's face was troubled. "Her people may be looking for her."

Johnny snorted. "To beat her up again?" He crossed the room to the windows, turning his back to them.

Murdoch gave him a thoughtful look. He knew, from the Pinkerton reports and some of the faded scars on his son's back, that Maria's men had knocked Johnny around when he was very young. He knew almost nothing else, since Johnny refused to discuss it.

"We don't know who was responsible, son," he said. "I think we have to notify the authorities to see if anyone is looking for her."

"Murdoch's right, Johnny," Scott said. "I just wish someone had found you and turned you over to the authorities."

"They did." Johnny's voice was so quiet that they could barely hear him. "That's how I ended up in a mission orphanage."

Scott and Murdoch exchanged glances. They also knew from the Pinkertons that Johnny had spent some time in an orphanage after his mother's death, but he had never spoken about that either.

"Surely the orphanage was better than being on the streets?" Scott said and was surprised when he saw his brother shiver, just once, before Johnny straightened his back stubbornly.

"No," Johnny said. "It wasn't."

Murdoch started to cross the room toward his son but Scott pulled him back, shaking his head. He didn't think it was a good idea to touch Johnny just then. His brother's body was tense and he looked ready to explode.

"I'm going to stretch my legs," Johnny said abruptly, swinging around and heading for the door. Whatever he had just remembered, he had wiped it off his face, which was expressionless.

"Do you want some company?" Scott asked.

"No."

"John," Murdoch started. The ice in the blue eyes froze him. Johnny Madrid was back, not Johnny Lancer, and Madrid wasn't letting anyone through the wall he'd just put up. "Be careful, son," Murdoch said unhappily.

The corner of Johnny's mouth went up, but it wasn't a smile. He went out, slamming the door behind him.

***

Scott was sitting by the fireplace, trying to concentrate on the newspaper instead of worrying about his brother, when he heard a noise. He looked up and saw a tousled head peering at him from the door of Teresa's room.

Scott looked down at the newspaper again. He wasn't comfortable talking to children, unlike his brother. The children who lived on the ranch seemed to think Johnny was one of them. Perhaps they weren't so far off at times, Scott thought. His brother was all too grown up, older in experience than in years, but he could also be incredibly young at times. Johnny hadn't had anything approaching a normal childhood, but he hadn't left it entirely behind either.

The brown eyes were still looking at him. Scott sighed and put the newspaper down.

"Hello," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

She ignored the question. She was barefoot and dressed in a nightgown borrowed from the hotel manager's daughter. Teresa and Murdoch had gone out to do some shopping for her, leaving Scott alone in the suite to watch her and wait for his brother to return.

The girl inspected the room gravely. "Is this where you live?"

"No," Scott said. "We don't live in San Francisco. This is a hotel. Do you know what that is?"

"Course I do," she said scornfully. "Where do you live?"

"On a ranch," Scott said. "Where do you live?"

She scowled at him and ignored that question too. She was still clutching her doll. It had only one button eye and Scott found it faintly disturbing.

"What's your doll's name?" he asked.

She glanced down at the doll and her expression softened. "Daisy," she said, giving the doll a smile she hadn't bestowed on any of the Lancers. "Her name is Daisy."

"Mine is Scott."

"I know your name," she said impatiently. "I heard your brother say it. Where is he, anyhow?"

"He went for a walk."

"Did that lady and the old man go with him?"

"Teresa and my father went shopping," Scott said.

"Is Teresa your sister? She don't look like you neither."

"She's my foster sister," Scott said. "Do you know what that means?"

"It means she ain't really your sister."

Scott shook his head. "No, that's not what it means at all."

She digested that for a few moments and changed the subject. "Where's my dress and shoes?"

They were in the rubbish bin, as far as Scott knew, but he didn't think he needed to tell the girl that. The dress was so threadbare it would disintegrate in the laundry. The worn shoes were far too small and full of holes.

"You'll have to ask Teresa when she gets back," he said.

"I ain't waiting until she gets back."

"No?" Scott looked at her, raising one eyebrow. "You're planning to go out in your nightgown?"

"Course not," she said. "That's why I want my clothes."

"Sorry. I don't know where they are."

She huffed angrily and turned back into the bedroom. Scott could hear her rummaging. He lifted his newspaper again.

"They ain't here," she said, finally reappearing in the doorway.

"What's your name?" Scott asked.

"Pepper," she answered crossly.

"Pepper. Just Pepper?"

"Isn't that what I said?" she said. "You're awful slow, Scott Lancer."

The name did match her personality, Scott thought.

***

Johnny walked down to the waterfront. The streets were crowded with all kinds of horses and carriages. People hurried along the streets. The number and variety of shops was astounding.

By the time he reached the wharves, he had lost the burst of anger that drove him out of the hotel suite. He wasn't mad at Murdoch or Scott, not really. They didn't know anything about it and Johnny didn't intend to tell them.

He didn't often think of those months in the orphanage, just after his mother's death. He had pushed that time firmly behind him and didn't want to think about it now.

He watched, fascinated, as men swarmed over the wharf, loading crates onto a tall-masted ship.

"Hey, watch it!" someone shouted, and he stepped out of the way.

"Is that him?" a tall, thin man asked from the other side of the wharf.

"Yeah, that's one of them," another, stockier man said, spitting. "There were two. They're brothers, according to the hotel. They checked into a suite with their father and his ward. Their name is Lancer and they're ranchers from the San Joaquin Valley."

"They should have stayed there," the first man said.

"You want me to take care of this one now, Mr. Slade?" The stocky man produced a razor-sharp knife and caressed it.

Slade considered it. "No, I don't think so, Fox," he said. "Not with the knife, not yet. These Lancers have a child that belongs to us and I think we'll even the score with this young man. Put him in the warehouse and make sure he stays there, but don't kill him. We may have to work out a trade."

Johnny sensed movement behind him and whirled, instantly on guard. There were four of them. He drove his fist into a jaw and two of the men moved in behind him, grabbing his arms. A fist hammered viciously into his ribs and something slammed into the back of his head as he leaned forward involuntarily. He felt himself falling. More blows thudded against his ribs as he plunged into darkness.

It was still dark when he woke, dark and nearly silent except for water dripping somewhere. He lay on his side, aching from head to toe and trying desperately not to pass out again. It hurt to think about moving. It hurt to think. His head throbbed and his mouth was desperately dry. He closed his eyes again, fighting waves of nausea, but lost that battle too. He heaved up the contents of his stomach and kept on retching helplessly. His ribs burned but he couldn't move his hands properly to reach them.

He heard voices and footsteps before a lantern flared up. Rough hands rolled him across the floor, away from the place where he had been sick. The world spun crazily and Johnny caught a glimpse of faces hovering over him in the shadows.

"He still alive, Wiley?" a voice asked. "Mr. Slade don't want him killed, not yet."

"Yeah, he's alive, Fox, but he ain't real happy about it just now," another man answered. Johnny felt someone tug on his wrists and ankles, testing the rope that bound them. "He's not going nowhere. Let's get out of here."

"Wait," Johnny croaked, but they paid no attention. The light retreated and he was in darkness again, listening to the slow drip, drip somewhere. He would give nearly anything for a drink of water, anything to wet his mouth and take away the foul taste. He had no idea how much time had passed. He wondered if Murdoch and Scott would look for him and closed his eyes, trying to clear his head. It's a big city, he told himself. Nobody was going to find him, even if they tried. He'd just have to make it himself.

***

Murdoch's temper was rising to a full boil. "Where is he?" the rancher fumed, pacing across the room. "It's been hours."

Scott knew his father was worried and that worry fueled his anger. Scott was concerned himself, but not overly so. Johnny had a habit of disappearing when he was upset. So far, he had always turned up again eventually. Scott didn't like it but had come to expect it in the months since he met his brother.

"You know Johnny sometimes just needs a little time on his own," Scott said to his father. "Let's go to dinner and the theater, as we planned. He may meet us there."

"I hope so." Murdoch was still simmering, ready to blow.

Teresa and Murdoch had come back with new clothing for Pepper, who was speechless - temporarily, at least - at the idea of owning even one new dress. Teresa had picked out three dresses, matching hair ribbons, underclothing, stockings, a sturdy pair of shoes, two nightgowns, and a warm coat and hat.

Pepper looked like a different child when she emerged from Teresa's room in a blue gingham dress. She ran to Murdoch, her brown eyes shining.

"Thank you, Mister," she blurted. "Teresa said you bought me these clothes."

He stopped pacing to smile at her. "You're welcome, child," he said. "But Teresa picked them out. Do you like them?"

She nodded shyly. "I never had nothing new before," she admitted. "Not that I remember."

Murdoch sat down and Pepper leaned against him, to Scott's surprise. He stroked her hair. "Do you have any family, Pepper?" he asked, his voice gentler than Scott had ever heard it.

She shook her head. "I lied to Johnny about having brothers," she confessed. "Do you reckon he's going to be mad?"

"Oh, I think he'll get over it," Murdoch told her. "Besides, Johnny is going to have a few other things to think about when I see him."

"Are you mad at him?" Pepper asked, wide-eyed. "Are you going to lick him?"

"No, I'm not going to lick him."

"Guess he's too big now," Pepper said. "Did you lick him a lot when he was little?"

"No." His face turned sad. "I didn't."

"Maybe you should have," she said sagely. "He's awful fractious, ain't he? I heard him arguing with Scott about his necktie and his gun."

Murdoch's lip twitched. "Scott and Johnny can both be fractious at times," he agreed. "Pepper, if you don't have any brothers, do you have any other family to take care of you?"

"I can take care of myself," she said obstinately. Scott winced, hearing another defiant voice fling the same words at his father.

Pepper's face changed, to Scott's surprise, as she looked up at Murdoch.

"I can," she said. "But I been staying with Mr. and Miz Fox. He came to get me when Mama was sick. I don't like them and they don't like me much neither. So I run off."

"Where's your father?"

She hung her head. "He's dead. Mama too now."

"I'm sorry, child," Murdoch said. She snuggled against him and Scott's jaw dropped.

***

Pepper loved dinner in the restaurant and she loved the theater too. She drank in everything, asked a hundred questions and fell asleep mid-sentence as the curtain fell.

Murdoch carried her out. He hadn't paid much attention to the play. Johnny hadn't shown up and Scott could tell his father was still worried.

"Murdoch!" George Fitch's voice boomed as they were leaving the theater and Murdoch turned.

"Hello, George," he said. "Nell, you're looking prettier than ever. It's been too long since I saw you."

"It has indeed." The woman at Fitch's side beamed at the tall rancher. She had a warm, happy smile and kind eyes. "How are you, Murdoch? George tells me both of your sons are home. I'm so glad."

"Yes," Murdoch said. "This is Scott, my older son, and my ward, Teresa O'Brien. This is Mrs. Fitch."

"How do you do," Scott said politely.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you, dear," she said, taking his hand. "Is your brother with you too?"

"No, not tonight," Murdoch said.

Her eyes went to the child sleeping in Murdoch's arms. "Is this your daughter, Scott?"

"No, ma'am," Scott said hastily. "Pepper is just staying with us."

"Pepper?" George looked at the girl too. "That's an unusual name."

"It is, but it suits her," Scott said, smiling.

A thin, dark man jostled against Nell as he crossed the crowded lobby. "Pardon me," he apologized smoothly, turning. "Why, Nell Fitch. I didn't see you. Tell me you forgive me."

"Of course," she said. "Quentin, you must meet the Lancers. Murdoch, this is Quentin Slade from the Garth Mining Company. Quentin, this is Murdoch Lancer, his son, Scott, and his ward, Miss O'Brien. The Lancers have a ranch in the San Joaquin Valley."

Slade nodded, his eyes hooded. "Lancer," he said.

Scott didn't like the man, although he couldn't say why. Murdoch didn't either, he thought, looking at his father's guarded face.

"I believe I've heard your name," Slade said. "Don't you have two sons?"

"I do," Murdoch said shortly. "My younger son isn't with us tonight."

"A pity," Slade said. "I suppose he's tied up elsewhere in the city. I hope he hasn't encountered any trouble."

"Why should he?" Murdoch growled.

Slade held up his hand. "No offense," he said. He smiled but his eyes were cold. For some reason, Scott thought of a snake rising to strike.

"We should be going, sir," Scott said smoothly. "It's well past time for Pepper to be in bed."

"You're right," Murdoch said.

"It was so nice to see you again, Murdoch," Nell said. "Please come to see me before you leave the city, all of you. I'd love to see Johnny again."

"I will, Nell," he promised.

"She's met Johnny?" Scott asked on their way back to the hotel.

"Years ago," Murdoch said. "They visited the ranch when Johnny was about a year old. She and George don't have any children of their own and Nell loved Johnny. He had her wrapped around his fingers as soon as he smiled at her."

"He still does that," Scott said.

"Yes, he does," Murdoch said. "But that smile isn't going to get him out of trouble this time. He better be waiting for us at the hotel and have a very good explanation."

***

Johnny wasn't at the hotel. He was still trying desperately to work his tightly bound hands loose. It was cold and damp, to add to his discomfort, and he shivered in his thin jacket. His head pounded and he was thirstier than ever.

He'd passed in and out of consciousness for what seemed like hours. During his waking moments, he'd rolled painfully across the floor, trying to figure out where he was. There was a lot of space around him, mostly empty space. The floor was bare dirt, hard-packed, but he was under some kind of roof. He didn't think the building was a barn, since it didn't have the familiar smell of horses and hay, just damp and something pungent he couldn't identify. It was as big as a barn, maybe even bigger. He couldn't hear any of the city noises and wondered if he was still in San Francisco. The drip had turned to a trickle, although he still couldn't find it, and occasionally he could hear what sounded like rats skittering in the dark.

Despite sore ribs and cramped muscles, he'd managed to bend and twist himself enough to reach the knife sheath in his boot, but it was empty to his disgust.

No one had returned to check on him, as far as he knew. He rolled over again, grimacing as the movement ignited his ribs, and his foot struck something on the floor. It was an empty bottle. Johnny scooted around painfully until he could reach it. If he could manage to break it, he could use the sharp edge to cut the rope.

He wasn't sure how long it took to break the bottle or to rub the rope across the jagged glass until the strands finally parted. His hands were numb and his wrists were a bloody mess by then. He fumbled for a long time with the rope around his ankles, and nearly fell down when he finally managed to free himself and stood up shakily.

Johnny also wasn't sure how he managed to find his way out of the dark building. He found himself leaning against an outside wall, gulping in fresh, salty air even though it hurt to take too deep a breath. He was still somewhere down by the wharves, he realized, looking around. It was night, but just barely. Streaks of light spread across the sky to the east. He ducked into the shadows as a lantern appeared and waited until a watchman passed by, his footsteps loud on the wooden walk. Johnny had no idea who he could trust and who he couldn't, not in this city. He needed to get back to the hotel, to Murdoch and Scott. If he could just get there, they'd take care of him until he could think straight again.

He waited until the lantern bobbed around a corner and took an uncertain step away from the wall.

***

"Johnny!" Scott grabbed his brother, who was leaning heavily against the doorframe, and pulled him inside the suite. He hustled Johnny across the room and sat him down in a chair next to the fireplace.

"You need a doctor, brother," he said softly. "Stay right there until I get back."

"No, I'm OK," Johnny protested. "Don't fuss, Scott. Just give me a minute."

Scott shook his head unbelievingly, looking at his brother's bruised face and disheveled, torn clothing. "Somebody has to fuss. What happened?"

"Not sure, exactly." Johnny slumped in the chair. "I got jumped, down on the waterfront."

"You sure did."

The room blurred and Johnny shut his eyes, fighting desperately to maintain control. Scott watched him, worried.

"Johnny, I'm going to send for a doctor. And then you're going straight to bed."

"No," Johnny protested weakly and passed out.

He was in bed when he woke again, tucked under warm blankets. He wondered vaguely how he got there. Someone slid a hand behind his shoulders and lifted him up carefully to give him a drink of water. Johnny focused blearily on Murdoch's anxious face.

"Lo siento," he said to his father after he'd taken a few sips.

"Don't try to talk," Murdoch said. "Just go back to sleep, John."

"Can't," Johnny mumbled. "It's not safe."

"It's safe," Murdoch said, pushing the dark hair back from his son's forehead. "We'll watch out for you, son. I want you to rest now."

Johnny looked up groggily. The light made his head and stomach roll and it was hard to keep his heavy eyes open, but he wanted to tell his father something. He just couldn't think of what it was or why it was important. "Don't mean to be any trouble," he finally whispered.

"It's no trouble," Murdoch said softly. He waited until the blue eyes slid shut again and Johnny's breathing evened out.

Scott returned to the room. "Did he wake?"

"Just for a minute," Murdoch said. "Is the doctor on the way?"

"They said he'd be here within the hour. Did Johnny say anything more about what happened?"

Murdoch shook his head. "He's still dazed. He has quite a lump on the back of his head."

"I don't like this," Scott said. "He told me he was jumped, but it was obviously more than a robbery on the street. From the look of his wrists and ankles, he was tied up for a long time."

"Yes," Murdoch said, his eyes going to the bandage they'd wound hastily around Johnny's left arm, trying to stop the bleeding from a deep gash. "And he cut himself badly with whatever he used to get free. He's going to need some stitches in that arm."

"I wonder if anyone is looking for him," Scott said.

Murdoch's face tightened. "If they are, they aren't going to get him. Not again."

***

The hotel doctor had come and gone. Johnny had a concussion, a few cracked ribs, many bruises, and a dozen new stitches. The doctor had immobilized his arm in a sling, although Murdoch had little hope he would leave it there long.

"Is he going to sleep all day?" Pepper asked.

Murdoch, who was sitting in a chair next to the bed, looked up. The girl was in the door.

"I hope so," he said. "Most of it, anyway. He's hurt and needs to sleep."

Pepper advanced farther into the room and looked at Johnny's quiet face, wide-eyed. "Is he gonna be all right?"

"He'll be fine in a few days, if he does as the doctor says," Murdoch said.

"He doesn't look too good right now."

"No," Murdoch agreed. Johnny looked like hell, even after they'd cleaned him up.

"My mama used to sit next to my bed sometimes when I was sick," Pepper said. "Where's Johnny's mama?"

Murdoch paused. "Um, he doesn't have one any more," he said.

"Like me," the girl said. "Only I don't have a father either."

Murdoch had no idea what to say. Pepper's voice was matter of fact.

"Do you remember your father?" he asked curiously.

Pepper shook her head. "Nope. Is Johnny and Scott's mother dead?"

"Yes," Murdoch said. He didn't think he needed or wanted to explain that Johnny and Scott had different mothers. His sons hadn't asked many questions about their mothers but he was sure Pepper would have no hesitation.

"They sure don't look like each other or like you either," she said. "What did their mama look like?"

"Pepper?" Teresa appeared in the doorway, to Murdoch's relief. "Scott and I are going downstairs to the dining room for breakfast and we want you to come with us."

"What about him and Johnny?" Pepper asked.

"The hotel will bring Murdoch's breakfast upstairs so he can sit with Johnny. And they'll bring Johnny something too when he wakes. Come on. Scott's waiting for us."

Pepper looked up at Murdoch. "I'll stay with you if you want," she volunteered.

"Thank you, but you go ahead with Teresa and Scott," he said.

"You certain sure?"

Murdoch nodded.

"OK," she said. She went out and Teresa moved over to the bed. She put a hand on Johnny's forehead, checking for fever, and straightened out the covers.

"I could watch Johnny while you get your breakfast, Murdoch."

"No, thank you, sweetheart," Murdoch said. "I'd rather be here."

"You're sure? He's not going to be too happy when he wakes up."

"I'm sure," he said. "And he's going to behave when he wakes up. He is not getting out of bed until the doctor says it's all right."

"Really?" Teresa said dubiously.

"Really," Murdoch insisted.

***

Pepper jumped two of Scott's checkers, late in the afternoon. "King me!" she crowed.

Scott was suspicious. He had left the board, just for a minute, to take a tray from a bellboy and put it down across Johnny's knees. The position of the checkers seemed to have shifted subtly when he returned.

Pepper's face was angelic. Scott looked over at his brother, who gave him an equally innocent grin.

"King her," Johnny said. "And next time, don't take your eye off the board, Boston."

"There isn't going to be a next time," Scott grumbled. "You're supposed to be eating that soup, brother."

Johnny, propped up in bed with pillows, looked at his lunch unenthusiastically. "Couldn't you get me some real food?" His voice sounded plaintive.

"No," Scott said. "Sorry, Johnny, but that's what the doctor ordered. And it will taste a lot better if you finish it while it's still hot."

Johnny made a face but he picked up the spoon.

"It's your turn, Scott," Pepper said, her voice impatient. "Aren't you going to move?"

Scott glanced at the board and picked up one of his pieces. Pepper's eyes gleamed and he put it down again.

"No, I don't think so," he said, picking up another piece. Her face fell and she bent over the board.

Scott looked over at his brother, who had put his spoon down after a few mouthfuls of soup and was leaning back against the pillows.

"Johnny?" he said softly.

Johnny tried to pry his eyes open, not very successfully. Scott shook his head at Pepper when she opened her mouth. He waited. It didn't take long before Johnny's eyes closed the rest of the way. Scott grabbed the tray and removed some of the pillows behind his brother's back. Johnny turned over on his side, sighing a little, and settled deeper in the bed.

"Didn't he eat anything?" Murdoch asked later, looking at the tray.

"Not much," Scott said. "He fell asleep after just a few spoonfuls and I thought he needed sleep more than the soup."

"You're probably right," Murdoch said. "Did Pepper behave?"

"She cheats at checkers," Scott said. "And Johnny thought it was funny. He'll have to play with her once he can keep his eyes open long enough. I bet he won't let her get away with it then."

Murdoch smiled. His sons bickered endlessly over the game board, at checkers and chess too. He'd been surprised to find that Johnny could hold his own with his Harvard-educated brother at both games. Scott hadn't expected it either, he thought.

"Did you make any enquiries about Pepper?" Scott asked.

"I talked to the police. No one's reported her missing," Murdoch said gloomily. "There's a convent school, not far from here, that will take her in."

Scott couldn't imagine the outspoken girl in a convent school.

"Or we could just take her home with us," Murdoch said slowly.

"Sir?"

"There's plenty of room," Murdoch said. "And she'd be company for Teresa."

"That's a big responsibility," Scott said. "She can't be more than eight or nine years old."

Murdoch nodded. "Johnny was ten," he said.

"Sir?"

"Johnny was ten when his mother died and he landed in that orphanage. I just wish someone had taken care of him."

Scott certainly agreed with his father about that.

***

Johnny woke again, early in the evening, and managed to finish a new bowl of soup this time. He looked more alert and didn't want to stay in bed.

"Don't you dare," Scott said, reading his mind. "Stay right where you are, Johnny."

"I slept all day," Johnny protested. "I'm fine now."

"The doctor will be back in the morning to check on you," Scott said. "Until then, you're not going anywhere."

Johnny scowled but he settled back against his pillows. "Where's everyone?"

"Downstairs, having dinner," Scott said.

"Bet they're getting something better than soup," Johnny complained and Scott smiled. His brother had to be feeling better if he was complaining about his food.

"I hope so," he said.

"What about you?" Johnny asked. "You don't have to stay with me. Boston. Go and get your own supper."

"Later," Scott said. "Johnny, what happened? You told me this morning that you were jumped."

"Down by the waterfront," Johnny said. "There were four of them."

"Had you ever seen any of them before?"

"Nope, not that I remember."

"What happened after they jumped you?"

"Dunno," Johnny said. "Guess I got knocked out. I woke up in an empty building, a warehouse or something. Once I got free, I walked back here."

"Do you think you could find the building again?"

"Sure." Johnny sat up and Scott put a hand out to stop him.

"I don't mean tonight. If it was just a robbery, I don't understand why they were holding you."

Johnny shrugged. "I don't know. One of them is named Wiley and one of them is named Fox. I heard them talking. Fox said something about Mr. Slate, or something like that, giving orders not to kill me. It sounded like he's their boss."

"Slate," Scott repeated thoughtfully. Something tugged at his brain, but it was elusive. "Was there a sign on the building?"

"Yeah. Garth Mining."

"Slade! Mrs. Fitch introduced us last night, at the theater, to a man named Slade from Garth Mining." Scott's face darkened. Slade had said something to Murdoch about Johnny being tied up elsewhere. It seemed like innocent conversation at the time, but it took on a different meaning now.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Scott said. "Johnny, did you ever do any jobs that involved Garth Mining?"

Johnny shook his head. "Don't think so."

"There's something strange going on here," Scott said. "I wonder..."

"What?" Johnny asked.

"I wonder if this has something to do with Pepper," Scott said slowly.

"You're loco," Johnny said. "She's just a little kid."

"They're looking for a little girl who is the heir to Garth Mining," Scott said slowly. "The story has been in every paper."

Johnny glanced at his brother. "Pepper? You sure you didn't get hit on the head too, Boston?"

***

Murdoch wasn't so sure Scott's idea was crazy. He listened thoughtfully after he returned to the suite with the two girls, and reminded Scott that Pepper had told them she had run away from a couple named Fox.

"She may not be Garth's granddaughter but it could be that they were planning to use her to put in a claim," he said. "She is about the right age."

"The bank attorney said they'd had a lot of claims," Scott said. "Why don't we get in touch with him, sir? He seemed like a good man."

"First thing in the morning," Murdoch agreed. "It's too late tonight."

"They probably know that Johnny escaped by now," Scott said.

Murdoch scowled. "If they even bothered to check on him, they know."

"You don't suppose they'll try anything tonight, do you?" Scott said.

"I don't think so," Murdoch said. "They'd have to be pretty brazen to try anything in the hotel."

"There's a lot of money at stake," Scott said. "The lawyer told me Duncan Garth is one of the richest men in California."

"He is," Murdoch said.

"Do you know him, sir?"

"We've met." Murdoch's tone was short.

"What's he like?" Scott asked.

"He's a mean old cuss," Murdoch said after a pause. "Absolutely ruthless when it comes to business. He was involved in the railroad and I suspect he was behind the tactics they used to get the land. Some good men were killed, trying to defend their own property."

"The railroad was necessary."

"Yes, it was," Murdoch said. "But I'm glad it didn't go through Lancer. They weren't willing to pay a fair price and they were prepared to take what they wanted by force."

"Garth must have made some enemies, if people think he was responsible."

"Yes, he did," Murdoch said.

"What if Pepper did turn out to be his granddaughter? Would he be good to her, sir?"

"I don't know," Murdoch said. "He's an old man, Scott, in his late eighties. And for all his money, he lives in a cheap boarding house near the waterfront. He's lived there since his wife died, years ago. It's certainly no place to raise a child."

"The bank attorney said he had a heart attack a month ago. That's when they went looking for his granddaughter and discovered her mother had died and she was gone. It doesn't sound like he was in any kind of regular contact with them."

"No, probably not." Murdoch rubbed his face and yawned. "We can't do anything tonight, Scott. Let's get some sleep so we can get started early."

"I am tired," Scott admitted. His eyes went over to the door of the room he was sharing with his brother. "We're going to have a hard time persuading Johnny to stay in bed in the morning. He wanted to get up tonight."

"Not until the doctor says it's all right," Murdoch said stubbornly.

"Don't tell me," Scott said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Tell him. You know what he's like, sir."

Murdoch sighed. "Yes, I know."

***

The bank attorney listened to Scott's story carefully. "I'd like to see this girl," he said when he finished. "You say she's at your hotel? She's not alone, is she?"

"She's with my father and brother and sister," Scott said. "They'll look out for her."

"Your brother." The attorney looked troubled. "I know something about your brother's past history, Mr. Lancer."

"That's exactly what it is, Mr. Cameron," Scott said, lifting his chin. "Past history."

"Is it? You really feel you can trust him?"

"Yes," Scott said.

Cameron's eyes bored into his. Scott met them calmly and the lawyer finally nodded.

"How badly was your brother hurt?"

"He'll be all right," Scott said. "The doctor let him get out of bed this morning but wants him to rest for a few days."

"I'd like to talk to him too," the lawyer said. "In fact, I'd like to have him tell his story to Garth. I don't know why Slade would be involved in anything like this and I know Garth won't be inclined to believe it, certainly not third hand."

"Johnny didn't see Slade," Scott said. "He heard Wiley and Fox talking about him."

"A man named Fox works for Slade," the lawyer said. "Fox's wife is his housekeeper and Fox is his driver and does errands for him. If they're in on this, then I'd say the odds are good Slade is in charge. But I don't understand why he'd keep the girl away from Garth for months, whether she's the right girl or they're just planning on using her to make a claim."

"Is there any benefit to him if she's not found?" Scott asked.

The lawyer frowned. "None, as far as I know," he said. "He'll be one of the trustees for the estate when Garth dies, along with the bank, and he'll continue to manage the company. I don't understand this and I don't like it. Is Johnny well enough to go and see Duncan Garth today?"

Scott hesitated. "Could Garth come to the hotel?"

Cameron shook his head. "He's dying of heart failure," he said. "It's only a matter of days, if that. He's in the hospital and Johnny would have to go to him."

"We'll have to talk to my father," Scott said. "And to Johnny."

"Let's go to the hotel then, "Cameron said.

It was raining when they walked out of the office building, and Cameron hailed a hack. "The Saint George," he said to the driver.

The driver looked dubious. "I'll get as close as I can," he said. "There's a big crowd around it."

"A crowd around it? Why?" Scott asked curiously.

"On account of the fire," the driver explained.

"What fire?" Scott felt his stomach lurch.

"Whole place went up like a tinderbox. It's a miracle it hasn't spread to the rest of the block."

Scott stared at him, his heart thudding. "Did everyone get out?"

The driver shrugged. "Dunno," he said.

***

The fire department was still spraying water on the hotel when they pushed their way through the crowd milling on the street. They'd had to abandon the cab. Scott hurried through the crowd, leaving the lawyer to follow as best he could.

He stopped, staring at the hotel. The upper floors had collapsed and smoke still billowed up from the ruined building. As far as Scott could tell, there was nothing left of the suite where he'd left his family.

"My God," Cameron said, catching up with him. "What a mess."

Scott looked around wildly and recognized one of the hotel bellboys. He grabbed the boy. "Have you seen my family? Do you know if they got out?"

The boy stared at him, his eyes glassy in a soot-covered face, and Scott gave him a little shake. The boy gulped. "Yeah," he said. "Name of Lancer, right? I saw your father and brother at least, somewhere over there."

"Thanks." Scott dropped his arm and plunged back into the crowd.

"Scott!"

He heard Murdoch's voice before he saw him. Scott looked around and spotted his father waving at him from a building across the street.

"Murdoch! Where's Johnny and Teresa and Pepper?" he asked breathlessly.

"They're fine, Scott," Murdoch said. "Everyone's fine. I sent Teresa and Pepper to Nell Fitch's house in a cab, and Johnny and I were just going to try to find you."

"Mr. Lancer," Cameron said, coming up behind Scott. "I'm glad to see that you escaped safely."

"Thanks," Murdoch said.

"Where is Johnny?" Scott asked.

"Right here," Johnny said, appearing next to Murdoch. His arm was still in the sling, to Scott's surprise. He was dressed in ranch clothes, his leather jacket draped over his shoulders, and he had saved Scott's holster and Colt, looping the belt over his good arm.

"I'd suggest that we find a place to sit down and talk," Cameron said briskly. "Perhaps we should all go to the Fitch house, just to make sure the girls arrived safely."

Scott's eyes were on his brother. Johnny stood stiffly, his face carefully expressionless. He was doing his best to hide it, but Scott had seen Johnny cope with injuries before and suspected the activity and smoke had reawakened the pain from his fractured ribs. "That sounds like a good idea," Scott said aloud. "What do you think, sir?"

Murdoch had followed Scott's eyes. His own eyes narrowed but he didn't say anything, just nodded wearily.

"This way." Cameron guided them around the street corner. "We should be able to get a cab on the next block."

"How did the fire start?" Scott asked his father when they finally found a cab.

Murdoch shook his head. "I don't know. It happened so fast. We were up in the suite when someone banged on the door and said there was a fire. There was already a lot of smoke in the hall and we had to go down the back stairs. The front stairs were in flames. We just barely got out before the floor collapsed."

"How could the fire move so fast?" Scott was puzzled.

"I doubt very much it could, without some help," Cameron said.

***

Nell Fitch was pleased but surprised to see them. "Murdoch, what in the world happened? You're covered with soot."

"Didn't Teresa and Pepper tell you about the fire?"

"Teresa and Pepper?" Nell's face was baffled. "I haven't seen either of them."

"I sent them here," Murdoch said. "They should have arrived an hour ago."

She shook her head. "I wish they had, but they didn't."

Murdoch looked stunned. "I put them in a cab and sent it straight here. Where could they be?"

Scott was afraid he knew where they could be, or, at least, who had them. From the murderous look on his face, Johnny thought the same thing.

"Let's go," Johnny said.

"Not you, John," Murdoch said. "We'll take care of this. The doctor wants you to take it easy, remember, and stay off your feet."

"I'm fine," Johnny said impatiently. "I'll take it easy later, after we find Teresa and Pepper." He glanced at Nell. "Ma'am, would your husband have any guns we could borrow?"

"You must be Johnny," Nell said, her eyes fastened on him.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"I'll show you George's gun cabinet and you can take what you want."

Johnny gave her a small smile. "Thank you."

"There is a condition, young man," she said.

"What's that?" His eyes turned wary.

"Once you've found those girls, you are to come straight back here. You will then see a doctor and do exactly what he tells you," she said. "Do we have a deal?"

Johnny's smile lifted one corner of his mouth. "Yes, ma'am."

"You wouldn't remember but you and I are old friends and you used to call me Aunt Nell, not ma'am," she said. "When you get back, I'll tell you about it."

He nodded and she turned away briskly. "Come along, then," she said. "The gun cabinet is in George's study. The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back."

Scott wasn't sure this was a good idea, but he also knew they weren't going to persuade his brother to stay behind. If they left him with Nell, he'd just go out on his own.

Johnny looked over the contents of the gun cabinet swiftly and distributed weapons. Scott was surprised when the lawyer took a gun too. "You're coming with us?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Cameron said, expertly breaking open a shotgun.

Johnny held onto Scott's six-shooter and was struggling to buckle the belt around his waist. Scott shook his head. "Let me help." He fastened the buckle and put Johnny's left arm back into the sling. "Leave it there, or you will stay here, brother."

Johnny gave him a cool look and picked up a derringer, checking to make sure it was loaded. He put it into his left hand and adjusted the sling so it wasn't visible. "Let's go."

***

They took a cab to the waterfront and Cameron told the driver to wait, flipping him a gold coin and promising him another. Johnny looked around uncertainly, trying to get his bearings.

"That way," he said at last. He led the way down a narrow street and ducked into an alleyway. A few people eyed them curiously but no one interfered with them. Scott thought that probably had something to do with the shotguns Cameron and Murdoch were carrying and the rifle in his own hand.

A whistle blew shrilly as they emerged from the alley onto another street. "Hey!" A uniformed police officer marched up to them. "Just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "You can't march around the city with guns like that."

"Let me handle this," Cameron said to the Lancers. He stepped forward and handed the officer a card. "Constable, my name is Cameron, and I'm the attorney for the Bank of California. We're looking for two girls, kidnapped this morning by the men who burned down the Saint George Hotel. We have reason to believe the kidnappers may be holding them in a warehouse nearby."

The man's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Somebody burned down the Saint George and kidnapped two girls?"

"That's right," Cameron said, taking a notebook and pencil out of his pocket and writing rapidly. "There's no time to explain now. I want you to get this message to Police Chief Crowley. He needs to put a guard around Duncan Garth's hospital room and make sure that absolutely no one gets in."

"Duncan Garth? From Garth Mining?" The young police officer goggled at him.

"This is important," Cameron said sternly, tearing the sheet of paper out of his notebook and handing it to the constable. "What's your name?"

"Evans, sir."

"Get that message to the chief himself, Evans, right away. Take a cab."

"Y-yes, sir," Evans said. "You don't want me to go with you instead, sir?"

"No," Cameron said. "Go, man. You're wasting time."

The police officer turned and went.

Johnny glanced at Cameron. "Not bad," he said. "I thought I might have to shoot him."

"Let's go, young man," the lawyer said. "I suspect I just told that police officer the truth and we don't have much time."

Johnny grinned and saluted with one finger. "Yes, sir," he said.

The warehouse was deserted. "Are you sure this is the right place?" Scott asked his brother.

Johnny nodded, his face forlorn. "I'm sure. I'm not likely to forget."

"Garth Mining owns a lot of property," Cameron said. "This was worth a try, but Slade has plenty of places to choose from if he's holding the girls."

"So what should we do now?" Scott asked.

"I'd suggest we go to the hospital to see Duncan," Cameron said. "Whatever game Slade is playing, it has something to do with Garth."

"We need to find Teresa and Pepper," Johnny objected.

"First we need to figure out where to look for them," Cameron said. "We may have a better idea once we see Garth and find out what's going on."

***

A police officer was standing guard in the hospital lobby. Cameron went to talk to him and the officer went down the hall. After a few minutes, a tall, bearded man appeared. He wore a police uniform too and an air of command.

"Patrick," Cameron said. "You did get my message."

"I did," the bearded man said. "What's this all about, Andrew?"

"Chief Crowley, this is Murdoch Lancer and his sons, Scott and John. Police Chief Patrick Crowley," Cameron said.

"Lancer," Crowley said. "You were staying at the Saint George in one of the suites, weren't you?"

"That's right," Murdoch said.

"Murdoch's ward, Miss O'Brien, and a young girl who was staying with them disappeared after the fire, Patrick," Cameron said. "We have reason to believe they were kidnapped. In fact, the fire may have been set for that purpose."

"Oh? And why would anyone go to so much trouble to kidnap these two girls?"

"The child may be Mary Elizabeth Garth," Cameron said.

Crowley raised one brow. "Indeed."

"Quentin Slade has something to do with this," Cameron said. "I think you'd better hear Johnny's story, Patrick, you and Duncan both."

Crowley glanced at Johnny. "Johnny Lancer, is it?" he said. "But you've used another name, haven't you? You're Johnny Madrid."

"That's right," Johnny said evenly.

"His name is Lancer," Murdoch and Scott both said simultaneously. Johnny smiled faintly. So did the police chief.

"Come along, then, Johnny Lancer," he said. "Let's hear this story of yours. You too, Andrew."

"Wait a minute. Johnny's not going anywhere without us," Murdoch said.

Crowley shook his head. "Mr. Garth is an old man and I don't think he's up to so many visitors at a time. You two wait here."

"It's OK, Murdoch," Johnny said.

Cameron handed over his shotgun to Murdoch. "Don't worry. Would you take care of this?"

Murdoch frowned but he finally nodded and took the shotgun. He and Scott watched while Johnny walked down the hall with the police chief and the lawyer. They disappeared behind a door, and Murdoch sat down.

"I don't like this," he said.

"Johnny will be all right," Scott said.

"I hope so," Murdoch said. "That police chief may find it a lot easier to blame Johnny Madrid than Quentin Slade."

"He's Johnny Lancer," Scott said firmly. "And no one is going to find it easy to blame him for something he didn't do. We'll make sure of that."

Murdoch looked at his older son's determined face and felt better. "Yes, we will."

***

"Lancer?" Duncan Garth wheezed. "One of Murdoch Lancer's boys?"

"Yeah," Johnny said.

The old man peered at him, his eyes sharp in a wrinkled face. He was propped up high on his pillows in the hospital bed. "You're the younger boy," he said. "Maria's son."

"That's right."

"I heard your father got both of you back," the old man said. "Made you partners in the ranch too, didn't he? Murdoch was always soft. I would have made you earn what you got, boy, if you were mine."

"Maybe Murdoch figures we did. Not that it's any of your business."

The old man gave a bark of laughter and broke into a coughing fit. He waved off his nurse and stared at Johnny.

"You're as full of sass as your father, boy."

Johnny looked startled. People usually told him he was like his mother, not his father.

"Tell me about this girl you think is my granddaughter," the old man ordered.

"I don't know or care if she's your granddaughter," Johnny drawled.

"She'll be rich if she is," Garth said.

Johnny shrugged. "Pepper won't care about that."

"Pepper? My granddaughter's name is Mary Elizabeth."

"This girl is named Pepper." Johnny told the old man about her. He also briefly described what happened on the waterfront and the conversation he'd heard between Wiley and Fox.

"You didn't see Slade," Garth said.

"Nope. Wouldn't know him if I did."

"You don't have any proof then, boy."

Johnny lifted his chin. "Don't much care about proving it. That's your business, not ours. We just want Teresa and Pepper back safe."

"Teresa is your father's ward? Paul O'Brien's gal?"

"That's right." Johnny was getting curious about why Garth seemed to know so much about his family.

"O'Brien was a good man," Garth said. "I wanted him to come to work for me and he refused. He wouldn't leave Lancer. And look where it landed him."

"Look where you landed," Johnny shot back immediately.

The old man laughed again. "I was wrong, boy. You're even sassier than your father."

The police chief was getting restless. "Mr. Garth, can you think of any reason Slade would hold your granddaughter without telling you?"

Garth scowled. "Aye, I can," he said. "I've been a damn fool. If she doesn't turn up, either dead or alive, by the time I die, Slade will inherit the works."

"What?" Cameron was stunned.

"I changed my will when we couldna find her," Garth said. "It seemed better than leaving it up in the air. Slade promised he'd take care of her if she did turn up later. I'll need to be changing it again, Andrew. Straight away."

"I'm not your attorney," Cameron protested.

"There's no time to be getting my attorney down here," Garth said. "He's a friend of Slade anyway, or he would have tried to talk me out of doing something so daft. I want you to do it right now. The chief and Johnny can witness it."

"I can't draw up a watertight will in your hospital room," Cameron said.

"Just do what you can," the old man said. "Come over here and I'll tell you what I want."

***

Patrick Crowley was scribbling his name on the new will when a police officer came in with a message that Quentin Slade was outside, demanding to see his employer.

"Not yet," Garth gasped. His breath was even shorter, his lips were blue and his doctor had come in and propped him up higher on his pillows. "Finish this first."

"Johnny, your turn," Cameron said. "Sign this here."

Johnny hesitated and took the pen. He signed his name.

"Another witness wouldn't hurt," Cameron said to the doctor, who nodded and signed.

"Will it hold?" Garth asked Cameron.

"I'll do my best to see that it does," Cameron said.

Garth nodded. "Thanks."

"You'll get a bill," Cameron said. "You or your estate."

The old man nodded approvingly. "You're a good Scot," he said. "Send Slade in here now."

Cameron hesitated. "Are you sure you're up to it, Duncan?"

"I'm sure," Garth said grimly. "I'm going to fire him if it's the last thing I do."

Murdoch and Scott, fed up with waiting outside, pushed their way in behind Slade. "It's all right," Crowley said to the officer who tried to block them.

Murdoch leaned the shotguns he was carrying against the wall by the door and went straight to Johnny, putting his hands on his shoulders.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned by how pale his son was. Johnny nodded, and tried to pull away. Murdoch's grip tightened and he guided Johnny across the room to a chair. "Sit and stay there. You've been on your feet too long."

"What's all this, Duncan?" Slade said uneasily. "You're a sick man. These people may be trying to take advantage of you."

"They are not," Garth said, glaring at him. "I know who's been taking advantage of me, Slade. Where are those girls?"

Slade's face was impassive. "I don't know what you mean," he said. "You must be confused."

"I'm not a bit confused," the old man snapped. "Where are they, Slade?"

Slade looked at the doctor, who had his hand on the old man's pulse. "He's raving mad," he said. "You're a witness, Doctor."

"Mr. Garth appears to me to be perfectly in possession of his faculties," the doctor said crisply. "I'd suggest you answer his question, Mr. Slade."

Slade looked at the police chief. "Crowley, why are you here?"

"I'm investigating a crime, Slade," the police chief said. "Assault, arson and kidnapping, to start. There may be a few more charges too."

Slade looked around the room. He raised his hands and took a few steps backwards. "I seem to be at a disadvantage here, gentlemen," he said. "But not for long."

He snatched one of the shotguns as he spoke and pointed it straight at Scott. "Don't anyone move, especially not you, boy. Put that gun down, nice and slow, or you'll have to bury your brother in small pieces."

Johnny had pulled Scott's Colt out of the holster and leveled it at Slade.

"Johnny," Murdoch said, his voice strained. "Do as he says, son."

Johnny lowered the gun reluctantly.

"That's a good boy, Johnny," Slade sneered. "Now put it on the floor and push it toward me."

***

Scott couldn't see his brother but he knew Johnny still had a derringer hidden in his sling. Cameron and Murdoch knew it too, although he didn't know if either of them remembered. He also didn't know how much Johnny could use his left hand.

"Don't be daft," Garth wheezed at Slade. "It's over. Tell us where the lassies are and I'll see to it there are no charges."

Slade shook his head. "No deal," he said.

"There are eight of us in this room," Crowley said. "You really think you can take all of us, Slade?"

"Shut up," Slade said. Scott was thinking furiously. Slade stood directly in front of him, about five feet away, holding the shotgun. Johnny and Murdoch were off to Scott's left, sitting against the wall opposite Garth's hospital bed. Crowley stood beyond them. Cameron and the doctor were over on the other side of the bed. The only door was on the wall to Scott's right, between Slade and Scott.

"You, Lancer," Slade said, looking at Murdoch. "I want you to go to the lobby and get Fox. Any mistakes and your sons will be the first to die, both of them. You understand that?"

"I don't know what Fox looks like," Murdoch pointed out.

"That's right, you don't," Slade said. "But your son knows, don't you, Johnny? You go then. Nice and easy."

Johnny stood up. Scott took his eyes off the shotgun to turn his head and watch him. Johnny swayed and Murdoch steadied him. "He's not in any shape to go, Slade," the older man objected. "You know that, since you're responsible."

"He better be," Slade said. "Move away from him and keep your hands up."

"I'm fine," Johnny said to Murdoch, lifting his eyes to his father's briefly.

Johnny was moving slowly, so slowly that Scott was puzzled and concerned. Johnny hadn't been limping earlier and hadn't looked nearly so shaky.

"Hold it!" Slade said. "I've changed my mind. Go and sit down again."

Johnny paused. He was standing next to Scott now and the shotgun swung slightly to point at him instead.

"Did you hear me?" Slade said. "Move, boy!"

Johnny moved, only he didn't move toward the chair. He lunged sideways swiftly, knocking Scott off his feet with a hard shove and diving for the floor himself. His derringer spat before he landed and the shotgun discharged, jerking upward. Crowley and Murdoch were moving too by then. They charged toward Slade, but the man was already falling. There was a bullet hole between his eyes.

"Johnny!" Murdoch left Slade to the police chief and bent anxiously over his sons. Johnny lay partially on top of Scott, his eyes shut. They opened suddenly.

"That was kind of close," he said.

"That was too damn close," Murdoch said, helping him up. Scott got to his feet too. They both checked Johnny over anxiously, amazed he'd escaped the shotgun blast. Murdoch glared at his younger son. "Are you crazy? Don't you dare pull anything like that ever again. It's a miracle you weren't killed."

Garth chuckled and choked, his breath ragged. "Your boy's a hellion, Murdoch, like his father," he gasped. "Now, what are you all waiting for? Go and find my granddaughter and bring her here so I can see her."

***

The room was full of light when Scott woke the next morning. He blinked at the unfamiliar surroundings for a minute before he remembered where he was. He pushed the covers back and got to his feet, pulling on a robe he found across the foot of the bed. They'd have to do some shopping today to replace the clothing lost in the fire at the hotel.

Johnny was in the next room, still fast asleep. He stirred and mumbled something, but didn't open his eyes when his brother put a hand on his forehead. Johnny's face had been flushed with fever by the time they returned to the Fitch house the night before. Nell had a doctor waiting, who gave him a stiff dose of laudanum, cleaned out the wound in his arm and put a few new stitches in to replace the ones he'd torn. Johnny kept his promise and didn't even argue much over the laudanum.

After Johnny shot Slade, the police chief had hurried outside and arrested Fox. Once he learned his employer was dead, the man couldn't tell them quickly enough where to find Teresa and Pepper. Crowley took some officers and went after the two girls himself.

Garth was dozing by the time Crowley returned and so was Johnny. Johnny flatly refused to let the hospital doctors touch him, insisting he was fine. He did sit down again, at Murdoch's insistence, and promptly fell asleep in the chair with his head leaning on his father's shoulder.

Teresa ran to Murdoch, burying her face in his other shoulder. He wrapped his free arm around her and Scott reached for Johnny, but his brother was already sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

They all watched as Pepper marched fearlessly up to Garth's hospital bed. The old man opened his eyes to look at her. She scowled.

"Are you really my grandfather?"

"I think I am, lass," he said, staring. "Come closer."

"I don't want to," she said bluntly. He cracked a rusty smile.

"You're like your grandmother, girl," he said breathlessly. "Andrew?"

Cameron stepped up to the girl and gently lifted her braids to look at the back of her neck. "Yes, Duncan," he said quietly. "The birthmark is there."

The old man reached out to touch the girl's hair.

"I know you won't be good, any more than Johnny Lancer over there," he said faintly. "You give them all hell, Mary Elizabeth Garth."

Pepper looked surprised. Then she smiled, a smile that lit up her plain face. Garth tilted her chin up.

"Aye, you are a lot like your grandmother, lass," he whispered, his eyes closing.

The hospital staff shooed them all out then and the Lancers headed to the Fitch house. Nell whisked Pepper and Teresa upstairs while the doctor took care of Johnny. After he finished and they got Johnny into bed, George took Murdoch and Scott to his study and poured stiff measures of whiskey.

"Scott?" Nell pushed open the door of Johnny's room and looked in. "Good morning. How is he?"

"Better, I think. His fever's down," Scott said.

"Good," she said. "Let him sleep. You come downstairs and have your breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

She smiled at him. "If I'm still your brother's Aunt Nell, I can't have you calling me ma'am," she said.

"No, ma'am," he said. "Um, Aunt Nell."

***

Downstairs in the dining room, Scott tucked hungrily into eggs, sausage and hot biscuits. Nell poured him a cup of coffee.

"Duncan is dead," she said. "He died early this morning in his sleep. Andrew stopped by to tell us. George and your father went with him to Garth Mining."

Scott paused. "Does Pepper know?"

"Yes," she said. "I told her. It doesn't mean much to her. She's only a child and she barely knew him."

"What will happen to her now?"

"That's up to her trustees, George, Andrew and Johnny. George and I talked it over and we hope Andrew and Johnny will agree to let her live with us."

"Johnny is one of Pepper's trustees?" Scott's brows rose.

"Duncan insisted on it when he rewrote his will yesterday," she said, smiling. "Of course, Duncan knew he's not 21 yet himself, so he also provided for Murdoch to take a hand until Johnny is old enough."

"How did Garth know how old Johnny is?"

"Your father and Duncan were once good friends, when Mrs. Garth was still alive," she said.

"What happened?"

She looked sad. "Life," she said. "Duncan became a bitter, angry man after his wife died, and Murdoch wasn't the same man either after Maria left and took Johnny with her. They fell out over something. I don't remember exactly what it was. It was a long time ago."

Scott stored away another question for his father, if the time ever came when Murdoch Lancer was prepared to sit down with his sons and answer some of their questions. He sighed a little.

Nell was watching him, her eyes knowing. "He lived alone for a long time, Scott," she said. "And he never was one to talk much about himself, as long as I've known him."

Scott smiled ruefully. "That's something he and Johnny have in common."

She laughed. "Johnny is cut from the same cloth as your father," she said. "And I can see that you have some of Murdoch in you too, Scott. Tell me, have you told your father and brother all about your life?"

Scott looked down. He had talked to Johnny more than to Murdoch, but there were things he wasn't comfortable talking about with either of them. "No," he admitted.

"Give it time," she advised him. "The three of you are together now, and that's what is really important, that and the future."

Murdoch had said something similar, that first day, although his words and tone were very different. Scott wondered if that was what his father had meant to say. Not that the past didn't count, but the present mattered more.

"You may be right," Scott said slowly. A smile crinkled the skin around his eyes. "You're a wise woman, Aunt Nell. And you'll need to be, if you take Pepper. She's just as headstrong as Johnny."

She smiled. "I'm looking forward to it. I've always wanted a little girl. Of course, not having any brothers or sisters of her own, it would be good for her to stay in touch with you and Johnny and Teresa."

"I think you can count on that," Scott promised.

***

Pepper looked Johnny over with critical eyes. She was wearing another new dress, but still clutched her old rag doll. Daisy had a new dress too and new button eyes, thanks to Nell.

"Ain't you ever going to learn to do that yourself?" Pepper asked.

Johnny glared at her. He was wearing a new suit and Scott was tying his necktie. The doctor had removed the last stitches the day before. His promise to Nell had kept him in bed for two long days and confined to the house for two more. This was his first day of freedom and he'd balked when informed that he had to spend part of it buying another suit and part of it at a meeting of the Garth trustees. Scott didn't recognize most of the words he said in rapid Spanish at breakfast, but Murdoch did and so did Nell, to Johnny's surprise and dismay. She replied to him in the same language and he subsided immediately. He'd been on his best behavior ever since, but Scott knew it couldn't last.

"If it wasn't for a certain little pest, I wouldn't have to go to a boring meeting at the bank or wear a stupid necktie," Johnny pointed out.

Pepper was unrepentant. She balanced on one leg, hopping up and down. "Me and Aunt Nell and Teresa are going to do something fun this afternoon," she told them.

"What are you going to do?" Scott asked when Johnny didn't rise to the bait.

"It's a secret," Pepper said smugly. "You'll find out when you get home. Maybe."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Maybe we won't be home until late, after you've already gone to bed. Maybe Scott and me will go do something fun ourselves."

Her face fell for a moment. Then she brightened. "You can't," she said. "Uncle Murdoch will skin you if you miss dinner. So there, Johnny Lancer."

"We can go out if we want. I'm not nine years old," he said. "And neither is Scott."

"You'd never know from the way you act sometimes," she informed him. "That's what Teresa says, anyhow."

"Oh yeah?" Johnny said. He looked at Scott, who bit back a smile.

"She may have a point," Scott said, stepping back hastily as Johnny aimed a mock punch at him.

"Pepper!" Nell called. She looked in the door and her brows rose. "I thought you had already left for the bank, Johnny. You'll be late for the meeting."

"We're just going," Scott said. "Johnny had a little trouble with his tie."

"Well, he looks very nice now," Nell said approvingly. "And you do too, Scott. Are you going with Johnny?"

"Not to the meeting," Scott said. "I want to visit a book store before we go back to Lancer and I noticed there's one near the bank, so I'm going there."

Nell nodded. "It's an excellent store," she said. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"Do you and the girls have plans for the afternoon, Aunt Nell?" Scott asked innocently. Pepper scowled and stuck out her tongue at him.

"Oh, I thought we'd bake some cookies," Nell said.

"Sounds like fun," Scott said. Johnny glanced at him, his eyes dancing. Pepper was scowling furiously.

"And then we have a few other plans," Nell said airily. "You boys will be back in time for dinner, won't you?"

A smile spread all the way across Pepper's freckled face.

"Yes, ma'am," Scott said. "We wouldn't miss it, would we, Johnny?"

Johnny sighed. "No." he said. "Guess not."

"Good," Nell said. "You'd better hurry now."

They could hear Pepper giggling as they went out the door.

THE END

Whistle, February 2005

The stories on this site are works of fiction, based on the 1968-1970 television series "Lancer" and were written purely for fun, not profit.