The Brothers Cannon, cont.

Author's note: This story looks a little back… to some of Buck's comments in "A Bad Day for a Thirst" ...and a little forward to what happens to John in "Too Many Chiefs." And even includes a little bit from "Once on a Day in Spring." As ever, not my characters, no copyright infringement intended. And as also ever, many thanks for kind and encouraging comments.

"Get up! Get up! Buck shouted at his brother. "Just like when we was kids. You'd never get up!"

John regarded his brother from his seat on the floor, while he continued to rub his jaw. "Why bother? You'd just knock me down again."

"Damn right I would! But you oughta at least give me the satisfaction of doing it."

"I am not sure my jaw could take that much of your 'satisfaction.'" Keeping a wary eye on Buck, John slowly got to his feet. He could practically see steam coming from under Buck's hat.

Neither man spoke.

Finally, with a sigh of exasperation mixed with anger, Buck demanded, "How come you never hit back?! Never!"

John gave his jaw a final rub. "Well, I guess at first it was because you were so much littler than me. And then when we were older, truth be told, it was because you fight so much better than me. I would have spent way too much time on my backside in the dirt."

Buck scoffed. "That's dumb! Look at ya! You're still way bigger than me."

John shrugged. "I've got a long reach alright...but that only buys me so much. And not enough against you." He gave a small chuckle. "You used to power right under my arm and pound my stomach so hard I felt like I had been kicked like a mule. And you never, never quit."

Still fuming, Buck threw down his hat. "You done insulted me right off the High Chaparral, big brother."

John's shoulder's slumped. " I know, he said sadly. "Mostly where I think… I know … I am wrong … is that I take what you do for the ranch… for me...for granted. I do that with a lot of people," John added softly, "but none more so than you."

Buck looked at his brother in surprise. "Wait… you admittin'' this is some ...most...your fault?" Buck kicked at his hat and put it back on. There was a kind of acceptance in the gesture.

"I just get so so focused on doing and building...pounding the ranch out of the land...like the metal I used to pound working for old man Hewitt… I don't see...I don't think..." Helplessly John stuttered to a stop.

Buck took a deep breath. He beckoned John to sit down and slid a glass of whiskey toward him. John eased into a chair.

"Well, I will say, it ain't easy being your brother. You DO take up a lot of space, one way or another. You take, John. You always take. Take up all the air in a room. Feels like I can't breathe sometimes."

John didn't...couldn't ...say anything; just nodded at what Buck had said.

Buck took another pull on the bottle.

"I mean...what you done...those lists and pullin' jobs out from under me, contradictin' me, treating me like I was just some other hand, and a dumb one at that, was downright disrespectful. And hurtful," he added. "Treat me like I don't know what I'm doin'! Like I'm a child!" he fumed, his ire rising again.

John could only nod again, before adding, softly, "I know."

The two men sat in silence for awhile.

John took a sip of whiskey and finally broke the quiet. "You know what you said about how much I like my little columns of numbers marching up and down? Well, you're right. I always liked numbers...from when we were kids in school. I like how orderly they are. How predictable. And they don't lie...oh, they don't always tell the whole truth, but they don't lie."

"So?"

"Well, its kind of the same with lists. I make a list...then check off the things on the list. Everything is in order. Like the numbers."

Buck raised a skeptical eyebrow.

John sighed in frustration. Ever so acutely, he felt his own lifelong inability to express himself. Even, perhaps especially, to those he was closest to. He had told Victoria that he was a 'certain kind of man and could only be that kind of man.' Well, that wasn't enough right now. He tried to push on.

"There is so much at High Chaparral that I can't control; the weather, the Apaches, cattle prices, bandits, hands coming and going, and about a hundred more. If I write things down, make lists, add up numbers, it makes it seem like I am in control of something...even if I know I am really not."

Buck pushed his hat back. "Brother John, that don't make no sense at all." He pushed his hat forward again and chewed on the chin strap for a bit. "But, then again, it never did. And I know'd you've been like that...been like you….since I first know'd anything. You'd think I would be used to it by now."

John gave a grim smile. "Well, I suppose its like getting used to a stone in your boot. You can, but it still makes a sore spot." He shifted in his chair. "I don't fight as good as you but I have always been better at choosing my battles. But I was never any good at taking life as it came. Not like you. You just had...have ...this way with you. You can bend but you never break; fight better than any 10 men I ever met, and still manage to enjoy life more than any 100. Me? What did Mano say once? That I am a granite block."

"Aw….that was before he got to know you."

John nodded. "Still, he was right too. Sometimes I FEEL like a granite block...and its only a question of time before I break into about a million pieces. I just get so tired," he added suddenly.

"Well, you lunkhead, if you EVER ease up on the reins just a little, we all would be happier AND the ranch might run better! What are you so afraid of?"

There was a long pause.

"Losing control." John said it so softly Buck had to ask him to repeat it.

"Of what?" he demanded.

"Of everything! Of the ranch, and Blue, and this dream that still seems so far out of reach that if I don't hold on hard it will all just slip through my fingers." he was speaking with the kind of intensity that continually smoldered in him and occasionally flared into the open. "I try and ease up...I really do...but…."

Buck sighed, "Somethings don't change. Mebee can't."

John leaned forward across the table. "But Buck, you have to know how important you are to the ranch...to me...god knows you are to Blue. He's more attached to you than he will ever be to me." Buck started to interrupt but John waved him off. "Its true and we both know it. And it's all right. I'm glad he has you. I can teach him and be as hard on him as I think he needs knowing that he has you to talk to. In ways he can't to me. My choice," he finished abruptly. But then added, facing Buck square. "Its true though...real simple. I can't do this without you. We both know that."

Buck nodded, slowly this time, and then returned the look. "Maybe, but the other thing we both know is why I never got any further than this saloon when I left. I am a saddle tramp. A natural born drifter. All that bending and not breaking..taking life as it comes...you are so admiring of...well. You see the whiskey and women and carousing...the 'enjoying life.' And yeah, I'll fight the A-patch all day long and take on every bandido you got, and you see that too. But sometimes what you don't see so good is what I'M afraid of. Without you...without the place you've made for all of us at High Chaparral... well, chances are pretty good that I'd just blow away like a tumble weed. I tried to tell you before….but you didn't seem to really listen. But...thing is, deep down, I think you already knew." He took another drink. "You're afraid of loosing a dream, I'm afraid of losing myself…in a bottle or in a gang or in something just plain stupid. You're the anchor." Buck finished off the bottle. "You ain't hardly drunk nothin.' he pointed out.

John just sat looking at his whiskey, not drinking it.

"Luck," John said out of the blue.

"What?"

"Just plain dumb luck. Look...we both fought a war and we both came out alive and in one piece. That right there is a huge piece of luck for both of us. But I had some luck you never got. I had Annalee to come home to. And Blue. But mostly Annalee. I take a drink now and again, but I don't drink near as much as you...and that's mostly...all...due to Annalee."

Buck looked at his brother in astonishment. "Oh, c'mon...you don't ever take but a drink or two. And even that ain't hardly ever."

John took a deep breath...he hadn't told this part of his story to anyone, really. Not even Victoria.

"When I got home from the war…after the relief, came the memories...and I just wanted to forget. First I tried to bury the memories under work...then I tried to erase them with whiskey. And where you get...let's say…'relaxed'...when you drink...well, I was a mean drunk."

Buck tried to remember the last time he had seen his brother drunk...and realized he couldn't. "But I ain't ever seen you drunk!"

John shrugged. "That's because you weren't there when I came home. I spent about 6 months drunk and mean and angry. Annalee told me if I didn't quit she'd pack up Blue and go home to her family. Said I was scaring her...scaring Blue." He shuddered a little. "That got me. Scaring my own family. But I kept drinking."

John twirled the shot glass between his fingers. "So one day I came home and she and Blue had just up and gone. She'd saved enough money to get the two of them into town in the buggy and then on a train east. I panicked. Jumped on a horse and caught up with them just outside of town. I thought she was bluffing. I yelled and cursed and demanded that she come back. Blue started to cry. But Annalee just looked at me, steady as a light in the dark. Waited all my bluster out. Finally she said she would come back only if instead of trying to talk to a bottle about what was eating at me, I would talk to her. And if I ever got drunk again, she would head right back east. And, even swaying on my feet, I knew it was no bluff. And I was afraid…." but he let that last part drift off.

"Annalee!?" Buck couldn't imagine his late sister in law...so demure and gentle...standing up to a thunderous and drunk John that way.

"I think it was as much about what was best for Blue as me...or her. But, anyway...I believed her and I did quit and even more I learned to talk at least then...at least a little…at least to Annalee...about some of what I had been through. Not everything of course, but enough so I didn't need to blot things out with whiskey. Work...and Annalee and Blue were enough."

He finished the glass of red eye he had been nursing, and leaned forward again toward his brother. "But the point is, I was just plain lucky that I had an Annalee to come home to. You didn't. With Ma gone, you didn't have anyone to come home to… not even any where. If I hadn't, I would probably have drifted along any which way, just like you did. Assuming I didn't drink myself to death first."

Buck shook his head..."That ain't luck...you havin' Annalee… I mean you was married."

"Yes, but her marrying me...her loving me in the first place…that's the luck! Can you think of any reason such a fine and lovely woman would have fallen in love with me? Me!? And then, Victoria. A whole other piece of luck. It was lucky that Don Sebastian had a daughter...one I didn't even want to marry ...but she loved...she loves me. And so she married me. Against my will." He almost laughed. "Can you beat that?"

Buck continued to stare at his brother dubiously.

John persisted. "Look we figured out what we already knew...how we are two sides of a pretty beat up coin. And if we can keep from killing each other we can continue to build something really...well...important. But I had more help along the way than you did. First Annalee and now Victoria….they were...are... MY anchor. And that just comes down to a matter of luck...of who I met and when. I don't think you are half as much a saddle tramp as you assume. Life just hasn't dealt you card. Not yet anyway."

Buck slid the empty bottle back and forth between his hands. "I dunno, John Boy...I think I might be too beat up and ragged around the edges for Lady Luck to deal me that card."

John's expression softened as he regarded his brother. "We, no disagreement from me on 'beat up and ragged', but Brother Buck if there is one thing we both should have learned by now, is that life, especially life out here, is just one surprise deal after another; and it only takes one card."

John stood up from the table.

"Wanna go home?"

Buck nodded and the two men stood for a moment outside the saloon watching the first streaks of dawn appear.

As they started toward their horses Buck said, "It's just 'cause you're tall."

"What?"

"Why Annalee and Victoria fell for someone as donkey stupid and stubborn as you. It's just cause you're tall."

John had to laugh at that. "That must be it," he agreed. "Must be."

The End (for now)