Fog draped the trees surrounding the encampment, dulling sound and teasing Scott’s bare skin with a kiss of wetness. As he walked from the shaman’s hut away from the camp to relieve himself, the mist encircled him and made him feel strangely alone. By the time he was finished a general unease made him quicken his pace. He hurried toward the camp and felt his tenseness lessen when he could see people again.  

Scott stopped by the creek, kneeled down and threw water on his face to try and completely dispel the feeling. The water was cold and he exhaled sharply from the shock, but it did not help the heaviness on his mind. He decided that it just must be worry for Johnny.  

Footsteps caused Scott to stand and turn. “Try this,” Hyahesh said gently, handing Scott a small bowl that was wonderfully warm to the touch. “It will comfort and fill you.”

Accepting the bowl of steaming mush, it took Scott a moment to figure out that he had to use two fingers to scoop the food into his mouth. He was hungrier than he realized and the gruel was surprisingly palatable, and even had a sweet, nutty flavor.

“I have bad news. The last surviving man that attacked you cannot be found. He managed get away on a horse,” Hyahesh said softly.

Scott’s head jerked up and the vague unease blew up into full alarm. He glanced around, noticing now the braves gliding in and out of the fog surrounding the encampment and more noticeably around the shaman’s hut. He gulped down the last mouthful of gruel and squatted to rinse his hands in the creek. “Barrajas,” Scott said out loud. “He was the last one left standing. I wounded him,” Scott said. “Maybe he’s unable to fight.”

“I do not know another man’s mind,” Hyahesh said. “All I know is the power of revenge.”

“Surely he wouldn’t try anything here.” Scott again swept his gaze over the fog shrouded camp. The fact that he couldn’t see beyond the hazy trees now made him nervous. “There are too many people. Do you know what he’s armed with? All I saw was a handgun.”

“The braves saw a long gun with the saddle as he escaped,” Hyahesh answered.

“Barrajas didn’t shoot at your braves?” Hyahesh shook his head. Scott ran his wet fingers through his hair and stood, drying his hands on his pants.  “Since he didn’t shoot at them, then he’s either hurt worse than I thought or he’s fallen back to regroup.” Scott felt a chill down his spine caused by the idea of being shot in the back where he stood. Scott spun on his heel and started walking back to Johnny’s hut. He still felt fairly confident that Barrajas wouldn’t come into the camp, but wondered about the man himself. How vengeful was he? Would he take the time to wait for another opportunity or simply go home? Scott realized that his brother was the only one who could possibly predict Barrajas, as Johnny was the only one who knew the outlaw.

Scott paused at the shaman’s door. Whispery chanting floated from inside oddly giving him a slight measure of peace. With a deep sigh, Scott pulled the hide back and slipped inside with Hyahesh close behind. The shaman was crumbling something into a small, colorfully decorated clay bowl as he sang softly. Scott’s thought that the man had to be hoarse by now was interrupted by a groan.

“Johnny?” Scott’s heart leaped and he quickly dropped to his knees next to his brother. He carefully cradled Johnny’s face between his hands and leaned in as close as he could. Johnny still lay on his left side, his back exposed to the shaman. His face felt too hot on Scott’s palms and his breathing too rough. Scott’s examination was interrupted when Johnny’s eyelids fluttered.

“Johnny?” Scott called. “Can you hear me?”

Scott heard the hide door rustle and Hyahesh speaking lowly but rapidly to someone outside. Almost immediately, Scott heard soft footfall in the hut. He glanced up to see that the shaman’s apprentice and two stout braves now stood by him. The apprentice spoke rapidly to Scott, but the blond had no idea what the man was saying. He spoke the same language as the shaman.

“Wait a minute. I think he’s coming around.” Scott turned his attention back to his brother. Johnny’s eyes were open, but Scott could tell it was a struggle to keep them that way. “Johnny!” he called again, trying to see some kind of focus in the indigo eyes.

“He has to be turned,” Hyahesh said. “So the energy flows smoothly.”

Scott brushed them off, intent on Johnny’s eyes as he looked for any sign of recognition. “Johnny? Can you move? Johnny, are you awake?”

There was some sort of battle going on inside his little brother that was beginning to show in his eyes. Johnny blinked a little faster and his breathing became rough and rapid. He began to gasp, but his body was weirdly limp. Scott knew he must be frightened when he realized he still couldn’t move, but there was something else there. With horror, Scott realized his brother was suffocating when he saw panic in Johnny’s expression coupled with dry gasps that were becoming more desperate.

“He can’t breathe!”  

Hyahesh spoke rapidly. The two braves parted and regrouped with Johnny between them. The shaman’s chanting didn’t break cadence, but the Holy One’s voice became a bit louder. Scott held Johnny’s head between his hands and locked eyes with him. Scott didn’t know what Hyahesh was saying to the braves; his total concentration was on trying to drive the fear from Johnny’s eyes by keeping the same fear from his own.

“Johnny, listen to me. Relax. Breathe in through your nose and out of your mouth, you hear me? In through your nose . . .” The idea came to Scott in an instant. Specific instructions gave his brother something to concentrate on other than his panic. Scott got in close, finding it tricky to keep the eye connection as Johnny’s body was propped up and turned. He could see Johnny struggling to pay attention to his words with all the distractions going on around him. Finally, Scott could see Johnny making the effort to breathe as instructed. “That’s it, Brother, in through your nose, out through your mouth. You’re doing fine.”

And odd odor surrounded them and Scott's attention was drawn aside. The apprentice was holding the clay bowl close to their faces, the smoke from a smoldering collection of dried herbs curling around their heads. It was an oddly sweet smell, and Scott felt a growing feeling of detachment after inhaling the pungent cloud. He turned again to Johnny’s eyes and kept instructing him to breathe, his own voice sounding more and more distant to his own ears. Ever so slowly, Johnny’s breathing became even. His eyes softened as the fear retreated. He mumbled something that sounded like “Tired,” but his voice was so soft Scott wasn’t sure what the word was.  Then Johnny’s eyelids drooped in surrender.

Scott relaxed his hold and the braves were able to position Johnny into a more upright position on his other side. Scott shook his head to try and clear it, the feeling of detachment refusing to disperse. When he saw Johnny’s eyes fully close and was sure his breathing was eased, he allowed himself to be led away as Hyahesh tugged on his arm.

“Sit here,” the Elder said, settling Scott down on the other side of the hut. From there, Scott could see his brother, the chanting shaman and his apprentice. The two stout men had disappeared, quiet as shadows. The apprentice sat and waved the smoking clay bowl under Johnny’s nose. Scott blinked slowly and realized he felt drunk. He frowned suspiciously at the burning concoction in the apprentice’s hand, but was not compelled to move anywhere at the moment.

 “What’s in that bowl?” Scott heard himself ask in a faraway voice.

 “Medicines that help direct energy upward where Madrid can face the malevolent sprits that threaten him.”

 “Upward?” Scott asked dully. He noticed that he could see the caricatures drawn on Johnny’s back now that his brother was turned away from him and the fire was stoked. They were intricate and interlaced and gave the impression of water – or even smoke - flowing upward toward Johnny’s head. Scott found that the more he stared, the more the drawings seemed to be actually moving up Johnny’s spine, throbbing to the cadence of the shaman’s chant.

 Feeling dazed and unable to move, Scott stared at the phenomenon, completely fascinated. Hyahesh continued to speak, his voice low in Scott’s ear while the shaman’s song painted the background. Colors began to invade the pulsating flow up Johnny’s skin.

 “We have seen and heard that Madrid prefers to face his enemies,” Hyahesh said. “I promised to tell the story of Madrid and our people. Let me do that now. It will help him in this fight to remember who he is.”

 Scott, rooted in place, nodded dumbly. As Hyahesh began to tell Madrid ’s story the colorful caricatures came alive on his brother’s back.

 CHAPTER TEN

 Hyahesh began. “Once, our tribe was vast, reaching from desert to sea, through high mountains and up wondrous valleys. We lived in peace and plentitude, the land rich and giving. Then people from the South arrived. They were small in number at first and we welcomed them; they did not threaten us and the land provided for all of us. We learned from these people, and they from us. They were gentle and wanted what we wanted – to live in peace. We did just that, sharing, for many seasons. More came from the South, and we still lived in peace, together. Inevitably, our tribes mixed. It was as natural as the seasons. We are still in the process of blending, as once it starts, it cannot be stopped. The gods have always known this. It is how to adapt and grow strong.”

 ‘That explains the strange language,’ Scott realized. ‘It’s a blend of Spanish and Indian.’ For a moment he was surprised at the clarity of thought with the sweet chaos of color that surrounded him. He could no longer feel his physical body, but he could definitely feel and think, and it was like nothing else he’d experienced before. It was interesting and did not worry him in the slightest as his attention was still on the story playing out before his eyes on his brother’s recumbent body.

 “Then the military men arrived from the East. We welcomed them as we did the others, but they refused to share and kept to themselves, isolated. There was still plenty for all, so we were not concerned. Then the East men began to push us away, to claim this land as theirs. Naturally, we disagreed, but being peaceful people, we simply avoided them. That, however, was not enough. They began to hunt us down.”

 The story was alive before Scott’s eyes, vibrating in vivid color on his brother’s skin. His total focus was on the history in front of him and around him, the shaman’s song painting the very air in soft colors. He felt oddly disconnected from his physical body, yet was not afraid. Instead, he was invigorated, his mind alive. Vaguely, he recalled hearing that specialized army patrols had been sent to California to purge the Indian tribes so whites could settle here. Was that what Hyahesh referred to? If it was, it sickened him.

 “For many seasons our tribe kept hidden by keeping in motion. The hunters could not track us down but they were always out there. Our shaman saw two visions: In one, our tribe disappeared completely. The other showed us established and great in number. The Holy One realized that we were being offered a choice, that the future of our peoples could go either way and it depended on us making a single decision. For a long time, our shaman searched for the decision we were supposed to make.

 “Then Madrid came to us.”

 When those words were spoken the flowing design in front of Scott’s eyes became bolder and brighter, the force of his brother’s nature making itself visible right before his eyes.

 “ Madrid came from the south. We could see that he was like us and not like us at the same time. He was blended, but his blending was of the South tribe and the East tribe. His eyes told us that.”

 ‘Murdoch’s blue eyes and Maria’s dark skin - blended,’ Scott realized. ‘Like them and yet not like them.’

 “ Madrid was the link. He connected our people with those of the East through those of the South. We had seen mixed blood like his before, but Madrid was different. He chose to stay with us and learn of us, and we of him. The shaman told us it was imperative that we connect with Madrid , that he would shape our destiny. He saw it in a vision.

 “ Madrid was injured when he came to our camp. Not injured physically, but inside here.” Scott felt Hyahesh touch a spot over his heart. The momentary physical connection rang out in bright red coupled with the sound of a heartbeat and disappeared when the elder removed his hand. The interpretation was so natural and clear that Scott didn’t think it odd at all that he’d just visualized a touch. “He was on a journey to heal himself.”

 ‘He was coming home,’ Scott remembered.

 “It was late summer when Madrid arrived here. We needed a place to settle for the upcoming winter. There was no way for our people to survive a winter if we had to keep moving; the past snows had shown us that. Our numbers had reduced greatly between the cold and the mercenary soldiers. Our shaman befriended Madrid after he determined that this man was important to our survival. The Holy One told Madrid our story, and he understood our story. He took it into his own heart.”

 ‘Johnny joins the underdog once again,’ Scott thought. It was so true to his brother’s nature, an honesty that showed itself clearly in the story parading before Scott’s eyes.

 “After coming to know us, Madrid left and began to know the enemy. The shaman said that although Madrid was a man of war on the outside, he was a man of peace on the inside. It was a conflict that Madrid had come to master, and that was exactly what we needed – a man of our blood and the enemy’s blood that could master them both to show us the way.

 “That’s when the Holy One realized the choice we had to make: Either blend with the East or be forever separate from them. Madrid would tell us which it would be. He was peace and war, South and East, all together. He was our messenger.”

 The enormity of the role was clear to Scott. He wondered if Johnny knew of the part he played at the time, or even realized it now. Somehow, he doubted it.

 “Then, as the air began to cool in preparation for the snows, Madrid returned after being gone for almost a full cycle of the moon. He told us that the Eastern men were leaving, and would be gone by the first snow.

 “So, the choice had been made for us by Madrid , as the Holy One had predicted. He had reclaimed our land. Immediately, we moved to a proper winter location and made our encampment. The Easterners left their stronghold, and we never saw the mercenary soldiers again. Madrid had chosen which destiny was ours and separated us. Madrid gave us back our land. Now it is our turn to give to Madrid and choose his destiny.”

 The simplicity of the story was easy to accept, but Scott had many questions. Right now, though, he had no desire to ask them. He was content to sit and watch Johnny’s healing energy flow and eddy on his skin, and marvel at the shaman’s song that colored the air. Scott could feel the shades and hues on his skin and he pulled off his shirt to enhance the sensation. Drawn into the very heart of the event, he could feel the strength and faith that surrounded him could not walk away.

At one point Scott found himself next the recumbent form, the heat emanating from Johnny stoking his own skin to higher sensations. Scott saw his hands reach out and touch the kaleidoscope of color that danced on his brother; amazingly, he felt and saw his own colors flow from his fingertips and join the current. It was weirdly mesmerizing and he could not tear his eyes away. Scott was transfixed – at this moment in time he and his brother were one entity and he never felt so fulfilled.

********

A clamor of sound seemed to come at him all at once. Dull at first, then growing rapidly until it was nearly unbearable. Johnny gasped and tried to open his eyes. He could feel the jerky spasms of his eyelids as they fought against his will, and it took all his meager concentration to force them open. Finally, he blinked.  

He could feel that his eyes were open, but all he saw was black; not entirely black, he realized, as there were lines of light . . . and a feeling of pressure on his forehead. He rolled his head aside and whatever it was that had blocked his vision fell away. Johnny blinked more rapidly, awareness coming slowly. He wanted to rub his eyes, but it wasn’t happening, and he couldn’t seem to keep his thoughts in order. Johnny fought to stay alert. Mentally, he ordered his hand to his face but found his concentration waning.

 Johnny’s head felt stuffed with muck and twice it’s normal size. It throbbed, and the pain was becoming more pronounced. He’d had worse headaches, but he couldn’t recall exactly why he had this one in particular or any other details of anything at the moment. He rolled his head back and saw a face close to his, eyes shut.

 “Scott?” he rasped, blinking hard to clear his vision. He wasn’t sure the word was audible, and he drifted away before any reply registered.

 Another voice wended its way into his consciousness, urging his senses awake again. The voice was speaking odd and familiar words that made no sense at all. With more effort than he thought should have been necessary, Johnny rolled his pounding head and saw an old man with a nearly toothless smile staring at him. The sight of the man filled Johnny with a sense of well being. The old man placed his palm on Johnny’s forehead, the touch feathery soft and warm, and he drifted off again.

 It was the nagging feeling of something forgotten that dragged him from the grayness this time and refused to let him rest. He felt wrung out and annoyingly exhausted. When his eyelids finally dragged open, he saw a familiar face lying next to his, eyes closed.

 “Scott?” he thought he said aloud, this whole scenario seeming familiar. The word brought some animation in his brother’s face – a twitch, and then a frown. Scott’s hand came up and rubbed his eyes, and then he uttered a small groan.

 “You all right?” Johnny wasn’t sure what he was saying actually matched what he thought he was saying because it sure didn’t sound right to his own ears. In fact, he wasn’t even sure his mouth was moving; everything seemed wrapped in fog. After a moment, though, Scott’s eyes snapped open, wide and wild, and he quickly sat up. Then, he found Johnny’s eyes with his own.

 “Johnny! You’re awake!”

 Johnny wanted to chuckle, but it was too much of an effort. He went to rub the sleep from his eyes but nothing happened. He couldn’t feel his hands. Completely weary, he simply let his eyes drift closed again, the energy needed to keep them open sapped. “I wish they’d untie me,” Johnny thought fuzzily.

 Scott’s voice was the only clear thing in his mind. “Johnny? You need to drink some water.” Scott said softly. Johnny felt his brother’s hand rest lightly on his cheek. “Johnny? Can you do that before you go back to sleep?”

 The touch was welcome and soothing. “Yeah,” Johnny sighed.

 Something scraped against a rough surface, the sound followed quickly by the sweet tinkling sound of water being poured. Johnny felt a hand on the back of his neck then he felt a pleasant coolness on his lips. He drank, feeling the fine trace of liquid run down his chin and neck, inside and out. The water tasted like honey and it was taken away much too soon. A few seconds later he felt his cheek on something soft and the world faded away again.

 When he woke next, it was with a fuzzy start and he knew immediately that something wasn’t right.

 CHAPTER ELEVEN

 “You’re all right, Johnny. You’re safe.” The words finally sank in and he worked to focus his eyes on the speaker.

 “Scott?” he guessed, his senses not yet separated into a coherent form. Everything was tilted chaos to his eyes and ears.

 “Yeah, Brother, it’s me. It’s sure good to hear your voice.”

 Johnny finally found his brother with his eyes and concentrated on getting his voice to work. “Yours too,” he finally mumbled, his mouth feeling as dry as his eyeballs. He moaned and attempted to shift his weight.

Immediately, Scott was at his side, his hands helping his brother to find an acceptable position. Johnny looked blearily around, not quite settled. “Where are we?” he breathed, trying to get his arms to work and not quite figuring out why they wouldn’t. “Why ‘m I tied up? Untie me, will ya, so I c’n sit up?” Scott captured Johnny's face between his palms. “I c’n do it. Lemme go.”

“Johnny, wait a second.”

The edge of Scott’s tone caught Johnny’s attention and he instantly went on the defensive. “No,” he demanded weakly. “Lemme sit up.” Ever so slowly, things fell back in place in the clutter of his mind, and it was a dark picture. The ugly feeling of panic began to ignite deep within. Johnny rolled his head in an effort to break away from the confining hands of his brother. Suddenly, he felt crushing claustrophobia. “GET AWAY!” he rasped, still trying to deny his condition as his awareness snapped into clarity.

Instead, Scott’s embrace tightened. Johnny felt his brother’s hand on the back of his neck supporting his head. He could tell by his brother’s posture that Scott’s other arm encircled his shoulders – but he couldn’t feel it. At that moment, memory crashed down.

“Dios, Scott, let me die. Just let me die!” Johnny gasped. His grip on any kind of self control slipped horribly.

“You are going to do no such thing, Brother. Look at me! Johnny! I said look at me!” Scott leaned in until he was nose to nose with his panicked sibling.

The urge to break away overwhelmed him but Johnny instinctively knew it was an impossible task. Fighting to control his breathing, he managed to press the panic down and forced himself to look into Scott’s eyes.  His teeth ground together in the effort to keep this tenuous grip of control.

“Johnny, listen to me. The bullet is out and your fever is down. You will recover, you hear? Give it time. You have to give yourself a little time. Look at me!”

Johnny managed to hold Scott’s stern stare, although part of him wanted to crawl away and hide somewhere.

“The bullet is out. You’ll get better. You hear me?”

The words, repeated in a soothing tone, got through Johnny’s considerable defenses as he allowed himself to believe. The initial panic receded, but he remained guarded to the possibilities his brother suggested. Now uncomfortable with Scott’s close proximity, Johnny’s eyes broke contact when he turned his head aside.

Scott identified the nuance and sat back to watch his brother.

For the first time, Johnny realized they were no longer on the trail. “Where are we?” he rasped as he crinkled his nose at the lingering smokiness that seemed to cloak everything. It was a familiar scent. Then his gaze fell on a weathered slip of a man lying near them and he knew instantly where he was.

“It seems we were found by some friends of yours,” Scott said softly. 

The shaman began to rouse from his well deserved sleep and pushed himself to a sitting position. The younger assistant appeared from nowhere, murmuring quietly and offering sustenance. As the apprentice began to assemble a meal, the Holy One found Johnny’s eyes with his own. 

The shaman then began to speak in a hushed tone as he held Johnny’s gaze. Ancient hands weaved the air between them as he spoke directly to Madrid , and Johnny fought to give the old man his full attention. His swimming head made it difficult, but he managed.

The Holy One explained in his own way what had happened to him and Johnny appreciated the honesty. It was a colorful explanation, which came to no surprise for Johnny, but he now had a clear picture of their situation. Once finished and obviously spent, the ancient Indian grew quiet and seemed to fold in on himself as he began to eat. His hand trembled and the apprentice hovered closely.

 “He’s been chanting for . . . I don’t even know how long we’ve been here,” Scott said quietly.

“Three days,” Johnny rasped. Scott shot him a surprised glance. “He told me.”

"You can understand him?"

Johnny nodded once. "Most of it. He makes sure I understand."

“He told you everything?” Scott said as he wearily scrubbed his temples. “Good. Then maybe you can tell me what that stuff was they burned in here for so long.”

“The strong stuff,” Johnny said distractedly. He’d recognized the scent as soon as it had touched his nose and suspected that it was the reason for his confused thoughts. Its use also told him that things were – or had been - very bad. Now that his panic was somewhat reined it, Johnny began an earnest self exam as Scott told him about the weird encounter with the smoky medicine. Johnny eyes tried to close against his will. When he heard his own voice, Johnny was alarmed at its weakness. It was also becoming difficult to take stock of his condition with Scott’s voice distracting him.

 “My shoulders,” Johnny blurted, abruptly interrupting Scott.

Scott straightened and leaned in excitedly. “What about your shoulders?”

“They – ache. They hurt, Scott. Like I’ve been lyin’ down too much.”

Scott gently took Johnny’s shoulders in his hands. “Do you feel that?” The sensation was odd and disquieting.

Johnny knew Scott’s hands were on him, but the feeling was dull and incomplete. “Yeah, I do,” he said as his heart leaped.

Smiling hugely, Scott sat back and for the first time, noticed Hyahesh standing just inside the doorway. “He’s getting better!”

The Elder smiled then glanced at the shaman. “We are pleased,” he said softly. Taking a position opposite Scott, he indicated with a nod that Scott help resettle Johnny. They did so in quiet efficiency, and once finished, Johnny found his eyelids sliding closed against his will. Inwardly he cursed his physical weakness; when gone, the short-lived elation left him incredibly drained.

“I’m walkin’ out of here,” he swore to himself as he drifted away.

Seeing that his brother was asleep, Scott rose to his feet and stretched. “I think I’ll go outside and clean up,” he said quietly. Hyahesh nodded and settled between the gunfighter and the shaman.

“I will stay,” he said.

Scott nodded and stumbled toward the door, his legs cramped from inaction. An odd fuzziness still cloaked his thoughts, but it began to clear as he breathed fresh air. He stood just outside the hut for a few minutes enjoying the knowledge that his brother would be all right.  He ran his hand over his eyes and started planning their departure. “Murdoch’s probably worried by now,” he thought as he tried to figure out exactly how late they were in returning home. He shook his head. Whatever that stuff was that he’d been inhaling made it difficult to keep track of passing time.

Deciding that walking around could help to clear his head Scott headed toward the horses to check on Charlie and Barranca and planning on washing up at the creek. The early morning air was cool and refreshing to his throat and lungs as he walked, and the smell of cooking food soon set his stomach growling. Scott added eating to his list of things to do. The fact that Johnny was on the mend made everything look brighter.

********

From his perch high on the side of the valley wall Barrajas cursed the light fog as it swirled around his head. The mist had lifted from the valley floor and now clung to the trees around him. The sun would soon banish it completely.

His arm throbbed and burned, but he continued to work his hand against the ache. Barrajas knew that he was much better off than Madrid , and that thought made him smile. That interfering bastard wouldn’t foil him again. 

Hunkering down into the rocks he peered around the largest one and scanned the encampment below. He’d been watching the tribe for nearly two days now and had a good idea of their routine. Early on he’d noticed the showy palomino in the remuda and knew that Madrid and Lancer’s son had to be in one of the huts.

When the tall blond eventually stumbled from the one hut that was set off from the rest, Barrajas grinned and flexed his wounded hand in earnest.

“I’ll get a payoff out of this after all,” he mused. He’d had two days now to figure out his next step and everything depended on Lancer’s actions; whatever the rich gringo did, Barrajas had a plan to cover it. There was no way in hell Barrajas was leaving this valley alone and without reward, and with Madrid out of the way, things were much easier than he could have hoped for.

Barrajas then began to think about what he would do with all the money he would be getting soon. Very soon.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The sun was at its peak in the sky when Scott, shaken awake, saw the intrusive golden ball through the smoke hole in the hut’s roof. A woman’s voice was low and her words rapid and Scott didn’t understand one word she said. He did, however, understand the urgency of her actions as she pulled on his arm and shoved his gun belt into his hands. If his calculations were correct, he’d not only slept through the night, but through the morning, too. Where Johnny had slept the previous day away, Scott made busy around the camp and took care of Barranca and Charlie. As soon as Johnny was able, they could leave.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Scott made her wait until he secured the weapon and then followed her outside where he blinked away the fog in his head. The woman hurried along the path to the shaman’s hut with Scott close behind, and he became alarmed when their destination became clear. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is Johnny all right?” The incomprehensible reply ended when they arrived at the heavy hide doorway. The woman stood aside and Scott pushed his way inside.

“Johnny?” He called, trying to find his brother before his eyes adjusted to the dimness.

“Here.”

Relief sagged Scott’s shoulders. When he could make out forms in the dark interior, he saw that the Elder squatted next to Johnny. When Johnny waved him over, Scott brightened. “You can move your arm!”

The crooked grin was just as welcome. “I’m gettin’ there,” Johnny said. “Hyahesh has some news.”

“News?” Scott dropped onto a folded deerskin beside his brother.

“They’ve spotted Barrajas in the hills. He is watching the camp.”

“Where?” Scott gave the doorway a sideways glance.

“High up on the hillside. He’s got a long gun with him.”

“They can’t get to him?” Scott tilted his head, indicating Hyahesh.

“Too steep. They can’t get behind ‘em. Besides, I don’t want these people takin’ on my fight.”

Hyahesh frowned at that and launched into a rapid reply in his tribe’s language. The words caused Johnny’s eyes to register disapproval.

“Looks like I should be agreeing with him,” Scott said. “This is my fight, Johnny. He wants me.”

“After he goes through me.”

 Scott snorted and shook his head. He caught Hyahesh’s dark gaze and Scott tilted his head toward the door. The Elder seemed to read Scott’s thoughts for a moment before departing. Then, Scott studied Johnny for a few long seconds before speaking. “Quite a reputation you’ve got around these parts.”

Johnny frowned and turned his attention to his struggle to sit up. Scott didn’t offer to help him.

“Is that why you think you need to take this on alone? Your reputation?”

Johnny’s face was shiny with his efforts. Finally upright and breathing hard, he dragged a trembling hand through his hair. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

The brothers glared at each other until Johnny’s furious brow suddenly smoothed and he unleashed a cocky grin. Scott’s frown deepened. He’d seen that smile before – it was one his brother used just before laying out one of his many outlandish proposals.

“Well, there is one point we agree on – we don’t want Hyahesh’s people involved, right?”

The question seemed innocent enough but Scott looked at it from all angles before replying with suspicious caution. “Right.”

“Then we need to take a stand away from here.”

Again, Scott tried to figure where this was going before agreeing.

“We need to bring Barrajas in closer. If we’re out of the village and he thinks I’m hurt . . .”

“You are hurt.”

Johnny rolled his eyes in exasperation. “If ya ain’t gonna listen . . .”

Scott crossed his arms. His mouth twitched. He smelled a swindle but was unable to guess Johnny’s plan. He needed more information. He also knew that he’d more than likely be lured into agreeing to something he didn’t want to do if he didn’t pay close attention to what Johnny wasn’t saying. It had happened before. “I’m listening,” he said with reluctance.

“I know just the place. Hyahesh can get me there. Once Barrajas is in close to take me out, I’ll be ready.”

Scott blinked. “What?” He ran Johnny’s words through his head again. “Ready?  Ready for what?”

Johnny reached under a folded skin and pulled out his gun belt. His body twitched and shook to keep balanced as he buckled it on over the soft buckskin pants he wore. Next, he grabbed his shirt and shook it open. He teetered sideways with the motion, but caught himself before toppling over.

“You’re kidding me, right? A gunfight? You think you’re going to take him in a gunfight in your condition?”

“’course not,” Johnny snorted as he pulled on the shirt with shaky arms. “He ain’t gonna play fair. I’ll be waitin’ for him. ‘sides, he ain’t gonna know.”

“He ain’t gonna . . .” Scott repeated, incredulous, before correcting himself. “He’s not going to know what? That you can’t walk? That you can barely hold up your gun? Just how are you going to hide that?”

“That’s the beauty of it, Scott. I ain’t gonna hide it. He’s gonna think I’m worse off than I really am.” Johnny finally got the shirt on, but gave up on the buttons after seconds of fumbling. He smiled that irritating , triumphant smile. “That’s the beauty of it!”

“The beauty . . .” Scott repeated, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

Johnny yelled for Hyahesh, his voice sounding breathless. The Elder slipped inside a moment later and Scott realized he must have been listening outside. Johnny rattled off what suspiciously sounded like orders in the People’s tongue. There was a brief conversation between the pair before Hyahesh left the hut. The Elder looked happy to Scott, which set off more alarms in his head.

“What fairy tale did you just tell him?”

Johnny settled back with a smug expression. “What makes you say that?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “If it wasn’t a fairy tale, you would have spoken in English. I will be part of what you’re thinking of doing, like it or not.”

Johnny’s expression turned hard.  “No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“No.”

“Johnny . . .”

“No, Scott, and that’s final!”

Scott jabbed the air with an accusing finger in his brother’s direction. “Don’t you lay down any rules for me, boy,” he growled. “We’re in this together and we will get out of this together! Understand?”

“It’s you that doesn’t understand, Scott. It’s me he wants dead to get to you.  I can’t take the chance of you or these people gettin’ in the middle! Barrajas knows he has to come through me to get to you. With me gone, you are easy pickin’s. I’ll handle it.”

Scott swept his arm in an arc that encompassed Johnny’s seated form. “And just how are you going to handle this, huh? You can’t even stand. You want to keep these people safe? The only way is for all of us to work together. You aren’t alone anymore.” Then something struck him and Scott took steps to reach Johnny’s side. From there, he glared down. “Hyahesh doesn’t know you’re keeping him out of the plan, does he? He doesn’t know you plan on going this alone?”

Johnny’s silence was Scott’s answer. Scott aborted the motion to grab his brother’s shoulders to shake some sense into him. Instead, he let out an explosive breath and paced a small, frustrated circle.

After all this time, the concept of family still seemed to escape Johnny. Scott continued to pace and counted to ten before speaking. The only way was to show Johnny what they had to work with. Then he would have no choice but to see the truth of it all.

“Fine,” he snapped, planting himself right in front of Johnny. “You walk out of here on your own, right now, and I’ll consider it.” He locked his gaze on Johnny’s smoldering blue eyes.

“When I walk out of here, right now,” Johnny’s low voice said with pointed determination. “I’m on my own.” The brothers locked heated glares. “Deal?”

Scott nodded once and took a few steps back, well out of the area he needed to catch his brother when he fell. He pinned Johnny with an expectant stare. “Deal.”

Johnny didn’t answer. Instead, he set his jaw and scooted his back to the flimsy wall, getting himself into a position to stand. Scott squelched an overwhelming desire to help him – Johnny had to fail all by himself.  Scott crossed his arms over his chest, clenching his fists in his own struggle to withhold assistance.

It was agonizing to watch Johnny fight so hard. The hut framework, not meant to support the full weight of a man, bowed and shuddered causing the structure to shake and the bindings to groan. Johnny’s face was a mask of sweat and determination, his breathing labored. Pain arrowed lines from the corners of his eyes and mouth that deepened with Johnny’s intense effort. His breath, forced between locked jaws, escaped as animalistic grunts sharp hisses.

Scott’s heart ached, but he didn’t budge. He heard voices outside and took steps to block the door. Johnny’s narrowed eyes followed him but his effort did not lessen. Johnny’s legs trembled and moved without their usual grace, each demanded inch equally resistant. Every move was earned with strain and pain and the horror that it may be his last – who knew what permanent this was doing to his body?  

At first, Scott cursed Johnny’s stubbornness, but with each terrible, passing minute, Scott’s curses faded in the light of admiration as he realized that every piece of Johnny Madrid Lancer’s reputation was rightfully earned with blood, sweat and tears. The proof was right in front of him. By the time Johnny stood across from him on legs as wobbly as a newborn colt’s, his bare, shiny chest heaving beneath the unbuttoned shirt as if he’d run a rough mile and wearing a defiant expression that hid his exhaustion, Scott knew he was beaten.

Scott held Johnny’s glare for a few heartbeats before he ducked his head and stepped aside, accepting the defeat. He allowed Johnny to pass through the doorway without further challenge and marveled at the man’s power, physical and mental.

Still, Scott knew that under the storied reputation and all the consequence it brought, Johnny Madrid Lancer was still a flesh and bone man and that every man had a limit. He prayed Johnny hadn’t just reached his.

On To Part 4   |  Back to the Great Room  |  Back To Part  2     

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