Scott Lancer jumped down from his horse and ran to the fallen man. He'd seen the horse buck the rider from a distance and hurried towards the scene. As soon as he turned the man over he realized his mistake.
"Hands up Lancer," the man grated through clenched teeth.
"Who are you?" Scott asked as he stood up and put his hands in the air. He watched as the man began to get to his feet, and he launched an attack, but before his body slammed into the man he felt a sharp pain resonate from his shoulder, down through his arm and into his hand. He stumbled backwards away from the man.
The man easily sidestepped and stood looking down at Scott. "That was your second mistake, city boy. Now get to your feet!"
Scott held his injured left shoulder as blood seeped through his fingers. Grinding his teeth against the pain he managed to get to shaky feet. He stood before the man and repeated his question. "Who are you?"
"You might say I'm your worst nightmare. You and I have some things to discuss and the boys here are gonna see that we're not interrupted," he laughed as he reached out and hit Scott with his gun.
Scott barely had time to register the four newcomers as blackness took over. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.
"Scott should have been home hours ago," Teresa said worriedly.
"He's probably taking the long way home from Green River," Murdoch Lancer, patriarch of the Lancer family, told her. He tried to keep his own worry out of his voice but didn't completely succeed. He glanced at his youngest son relaxing on the settee.
"That's right, Murdoch. Scott loves the ride along the river. He's probably just lost track of time," Johnny Lancer suggested. Johnny stood up and walked to the door.
"Where are you going, Johnny?" Teresa asked.
"I was going to take Barranca for a ride."
"Sure you were," Murdoch laughed. "I suppose you're planning on taking the long ride towards Green River?"
"Well, I was going to take the scenic route," Johnny said.
"Want some company?" Murdoch asked.
"I'm coming too," Teresa told them.
Murdoch and Johnny looked at each other. Both men knew it was unlike Scott to be four hours late coming from town unless he'd run into some kind of trouble. They also knew that once Teresa made up her mind there was little they could do to change it. Three worried people headed for the barn and their horses.
Scott woke to find his arms pinned above his head. His legs were numb and he knew he'd been standing for some time. His shoulder throbbed with every breath. He shivered with cold and slowly opened his eyes.
Shadows cast by a single candle flickered across the walls. Scott had no idea where he was and the meagre light did nothing to alleviate that fact.
"So you've decided to grace us with your presence."
Scott recognized the voice of the man he'd first seen lying on the ground. He could tell by the hatred in his eyes that he should know the man. There was something familiar about him, but Scott's pain-filled mind couldn't grasp the connection. He closed his eyes as the man walked towards him.
"Open your eyes, Lancer."
Scott forced his eyes open once more, "Why?" he asked as his eyes closed again. His head pounded and he groaned softly.
"Revenge," the man said as he slapped Scott open-handed across the face. "Now open your eyes and look at me."
Scott did as he was told, his cheek stinging from the slap. "Revenge for what?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Let's just say your grandfather owes me and you're the instrument I'll use to make him pay."
"My Grandfather? What did he do to you?" Scott asked, his mind a jumble of confusion and pain.
"He killed my family," the man said harshly.
"Harlan Garrett was a hard man but he never killed anyone," Scott grated out.
"I guess it's true what they say about family being the last to know, Lancer. You were only a kid when we came to visit your grandfather. I remember my Pa telling me how he'd worked his whole life for Harlan Garrett and had nothing but a broken down farmhouse to show for it. My Pa moved us west that year with the few things we owned. He had big plans to find gold in California."
"What's that got to do with my Grandfather?" Scott asked tiredly.
"If it weren't for your Grandfather we would have stayed in Boston," the man said angrily. "My Pa would still be alive and we'd be livin’ in luxury just like you. I hate you and what your grandfather did to me. My ma and brothers were killed before they even made it halfway to California. Pa and me were able to get away but he was hurt and I watched him die out there. I vowed that when I got older I'd find a way to make Garrett pay."
Scott listened to the man ramble on about what he thought Harlan Garrett had done. He closed his eyes once more and groaned as the pain in his shoulder became almost too much to bear. "You still haven't told me who you are," he said.
"I thought you'd have figured it out by now, Lancer. I've given you enough information. I thought you were supposed to be smart," the man laughed harshly.
"You said I was a kid when you visited my grandfather. How do you expect me to remember you? I'd say you're only a couple of years older than me."
"That's right, Lancer. I'm exactly three years older than you. I was ten when we left Boston. My father's name was Mitch Harper and mine's the same. Do you remember now?"
Scott tried to make his mind work but was unable to get past the pain of his body. His shoulder throbbed unmercifully and he tried to take some of the pressure off by standing on the tips of his toes. A small groan escaped his lips bringing a harsh laugh from his nemesis.
"That's gotta hurt," Harper said. When Scott didn't answer him he lashed out with his hand, striking a glancing blow to the bound mans ribs. Scott's sharp intake of breath seemed to make Harper happy and he walked away.
"Where could he be? It's been over twenty-four hours," Theresa asked as she paced back and forth in the living room of the Lancer ranch house.
"Why don't you sit down before you wear a track down the middle of the floor, Theresa," Murdoch said. "Johnny should be back anytime with Val. As soon as they get here we'll start a more thorough search of the area between Lancer and Green River. If he's there we'll find him," he said with more confidence than he felt.
"What if he's not there?" Theresa said as she sat beside Murdoch.
"We'll find him, Theresa, don't you worry about that," Jelly said from the chair.
"Oh, Jelly," Theresa said as tears threatened to flow from her eyes. She forced them, back as they heard horses gallop into the yard. Jelly was the first to the door and was followed out by Murdoch and Theresa.
Johnny tethered Barranca to the post before Sheriff Val Crawford had even made it off his horse. He hurried up to the house and looked at his family, "Is he back?" he asked.
"No," Murdoch answered before the others could.
"I take it Scott hasn't come home yet?" Val asked as he joined the family and they walked into the house together. "Did anyone check Green River?"
"We rode into Green River last night. Scott left to come home early in the afternoon," Murdoch explained.
"Are you sure he made it there?" Val asked.
"I spoke with Mr. Mercer at the store and he said Scott picked up the supplies and left immediately. He's got to be somewhere between here and Green River," Johnny explained to his friend.
"You didn't see any trace of him in your search yesterday?" Val asked.
"We didn't really make a search. By the time we got to Green River it was dark so we stayed the night. I sent Johnny on to Morro Coyo for you while Theresa and I came home to round up some of the men. I sent most of them out as soon as we got back," Murdoch said.
"Well then let's see what we can find," Val said.
"I'm coming along," Theresa said.
"Not this time, Theresa," Murdoch said as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "I want - no, I need you to stay here in case Scott shows up."
"I can't just sit here, Murdoch," she said softly.
"Please, Theresa, stay here," Murdoch pleaded. "We don't know what's happened to Scott and I don't want you in any danger. Promise me you won't come after us."
Theresa wanted more than anything to help search for Scott. She looked into the pleading eyes of the man she'd come to lean on since her father's death. She knew she was keeping them from the search and gave in to Murdoch's wishes. "I'll stay," she said as she forced back the tears.
"Jelly," Murdoch turned to the older man.
"I know, it's always the same thing. Jelly stay with Teresa. Jelly look after things. One of these days I ain't gonna do it," the older man mumbled. "Come on, Teresa, let's you and me go get some coffee. Looks like it could be a long wait," he said as he led the young woman into the kitchen.
Murdoch watched them disappear and turned back to the others, "Let's go find your brother, Johnny," he said.
The smell of fresh coffee brought Scott out of a less than restful sleep. His arms were still pinned above his head and he forced himself to stand straight. Instantly he felt the tingling sensation as blood returned to his numbed hands and wrists. Not wanting Harper and his men to know he was awake he bit back a cry of pain. Through half opened eyes he began to survey the cavern he was in. Off to his right he could hear the slow trickle of water. A cold draft seemed to come from that direction and he figured the entrance must be that way as well. He could see a dew-like substance on the cavern walls and knew that was what was making him so uncomfortable. The light dancing off the ceiling also revealed the shadow of a spider spinning its web in the corner. Scott shivered from the cold and dampness.
Finally, he brought his attention back to the five men seated around the fire. He strained to hear what they were saying and was rewarded as part of the conversation drifted to his ears.
"I told you - once Murdoch Lancer gets the note he'll contact Harlan Garrett. I know from my visits to Garrett's home when I was a kid that he'd do anything for his grandson. We just have to watch and wait. Harlan Garrett will come for Scott Lancer and when he does I'll kill him," Harper laughed as he said this and turned to the man chained to the wall. "How does it feel knowing you'll be the cause of your grandfathers death?"
Scott kept his eyes closed and didn't answer. He felt chilled at the depth of hatred he heard in Harper's voice and knew that he meant what he said: he would kill Harlan Garrett if given the chance.
"Hey, Lancer, I asked you a question," Harper chided as he walked towards Scott.
Scott heard approaching footsteps and opened his eyes as they reached him. "You're crazy if you think old Harlan will come for me. I guess you never really thought this through very well," he said.
"What do you mean?" Harper asked curiously.
"Did you ever wonder why I'd leave a rich estate in Boston to move out here? You can't possibly think it was to live with my father," Scott put his head back and laughed raucously.
Harper's confidence wavered slightly and he slapped Scott open-handed across the face. "What are you talking about?"
"Harlan and I had our share of disagreements. I couldn't take his orders anymore and that's why I came out here. I swore I'd never return to Boston and he swore I'd never receive anything from him again. So your plans are for nothing," Scott laughed as he rubbed his cheek against his shoulder.
Harper glared at Scott before stomping away. He sat back at the fire and picked up his coffee. His men looked at him and then at each other, lingering doubts ringing in their minds.
A short, balding man with rust coloured whiskers was the first to speak up. "If he's telling the truth then all this is for nothing. Your plans to use him to get Garrett to come to you won't work," he said.
"I can't believe that, Jacob," Harper said. "I saw how Harlan Garrett doted on his grandson. He'd have given Scott Lancer anything he wanted."
"But that was a long time ago and things change. Maybe Garrett and Lancer did have a fight. Maybe they don't talk to each other any more," Jacob Frost told him.
"There's only one way to find out. We wait and see."
Jacob Frost nodded his head and then faced their captive. "We have another problem, Mitch."
"What's that?" Harper asked his long time friend. They'd been together since they'd escaped from prison six years before. Both men had prices on their heads but the few that had tried to collect had wound up with six feet of earth between them and the reward.
"If you don't do something about that bullet, Lancer will be dead before we have a chance to find out if he's tellin the truth or not."
Harper's gaze wondered back to his prisoner and he knew Frost was right. Blood had stained the front of Lancer's shirt bright red but was now drying to a muddy colour. The centre of the pattern was the brightest where new blood mingled with old. "What do ya want me to do? I ain't no doctor and I'm not gonna bring one out here just for him." he said.
"You don't have ta. See Reynolds over here, he trained with the medics in the army. He'll be able ta take the bullet out and make sure Lancer stays alive long enough for you to get your revenge."
"That right, Reynolds? Think ya can get the bullet out and keep him alive?" Harper asked another of his men. This one was just under six feet and every time Harper saw him stand to his full height he thought he was gangly looking. His too-thin body seemed likely to break in half at the first sign of a heavy wind.
"Sure thing, boss. Might not be a pretty job but I can do it," Mike Reynolds grinned.
"Billy, Rob, you two get over there and cut him down," Harper ordered.
Billy and Rob Smith were brothers who'd met up with Harper and Frost soon after the prison break. The four men had stayed together out of necessity rather than friendship, figuring they were more secure in numbers. They hurried towards the prisoner and cut him down.
Scott listened to the conversation with dread. He watched as the two men hurried towards him and wished he were invisible. As the Smith brothers cut him loose he fell heavily to the cold, damp floor of the cave.
"Where do you want him, boss?" Billy asked as he and his brother reached down to pull Scott to his feet.
"Put him on the cot so Mike can work on him," Harper told them.
"I don't want his help!" Scott exclaimed, struggling to get away from the two men holding him in vice-like grips.
"He's just gonna help ya, Lancer," Rob said breathlessly.
"I said I don't want his help!"
Harper listened to the ongoing struggle in the back of the cave and slowly stood from the rock by the fire. Angrily he strode towards the struggling men. "I said put him on the cot! If he gives you any trouble bind his legs and tie his good arm to his side."
"Sure, boss," Billy grinned evilly and forced the weakened man towards the cot.
Scott fought as well as he could but soon found himself tied down to the cot. Mike Reynolds stood over him an evil smile plastered on his face. "Get away from me!" Scott grated through clenched teeth.
"Sorry, pal, but I got my orders," he said as he knelt by the prone man. Using a knife he cut Scott's shirt away from his injured shoulder. "That must feel awful, but I seen the docs work on worse in the war. Always wanted to cut out a bullet and it looks like I'm about to get my chance. Hey, boss, got any whiskey?"
Scott sighed in relief when he heard Reynolds ask for whiskey. He knew from experience how important it was to clean the wound and the knife being used to remove the bullet. 'Maybe this guys smarter than he looks,' he thought. His relief quickly faded as he watched Reynolds take the bottle from Frost and tip it to his lips.
Reynolds made a sound of pure pleasure as he set the bottle on the ground and without a word drove the knife into the bullet wound. His face contorted with pleasure as he heard the man under the knife scream in pure agony.
Scott felt the knife enter his arm and was unable to suppress his scream. The white-hot fire that invaded his body was more than he could stand and he lapsed into a world between nightmare and reality. A world where his family gathered round and laughed at the torture inflicted on him. A world he knew didn't exist but somehow had become part of his private nightmare. His last vision before consciousness left him completely was his grandfather drinking from a brandy goblet as blood dripped from the knife he held above his head.
"Damn! He's not sticking around for the fun," Reynolds said disappointedly.
"You might as well get the bullet out and stop messing around," Harper said, his face showed the disappointment he felt at not being able to watch his captive’s face when Reynolds removed the bullet. He picked up the half empty bottle of whiskey and walked back to the warmth of the fire. "Here, Billy, make sure ya drop this where it can be found," Harper told his man as he passed him a barely legible note.
"Sure, boss," Billy said as he took the note and hurried out of the cave.
 |
 |
 |
 |