Coming Home
A
Johnny Madrid rode into Socorro with one thing in
mind - a bath. He'd been on the trail for a week from
His trip had not gone as planned plus it had been
expensive. All he wanted now was to bathe, eat and sleep for a few days, then
find himself a job.
He rode up to the livery and stabled his black
stallion, then headed to the barbershop on the corner. Surveying the street,
things seemed relatively quiet so he relaxed a little and went inside.
Half an hour later, he felt a few pounds lighter
and headed for the saloon. He walked in and glanced around, then settled
himself up against the bar and ordered a beer.
He found a table in the corner and sat with his
back to the wall, propping his feet in a chair. A redhead sauntered up and
brushed against his leg, smiling seductively. He looked her up and down and
decided he wasn't in the mood for company. The look he gave her sent her
packing.
He shook his head and sighed. What the hell, he
thought. Haven't needed her since I was able to walk anyway.
Still, one thing she had said to him stuck in his mind.
During one of her two tirades toward him. He still
couldn't believe he'd gone back for more after the first one.
How had she put it? It was the way she said it not
what she said because she'd said it so many times before in one way or the
other. 'You think he would want you now?' Something like
that. He'd never wanted him so why would she say it like that? Want you now?
That thought had nagged at him the past week.
He seemed to have lost his appetite so he took a
room upstairs and sacked in for the night. Sleep was elusive however, as the
confrontations played out over and over in his mind. She was still as beautiful
as ever but she was also as angry as ever. If he were honest with himself, he'd
admit she hurt him deeply.
He figured out years ago that she had never really
wanted him, that she'd been stuck with him since his father threw them out. She
had made no effort to hide it either. She reminded him of what a burden he was
almost every day of his life. Right up to the last day when she told him she
was leaving and he wasn't going with her this time.
He sighed and turned on his left side, gun nestled
in his right hand as always. At least she had finally given him a name and a
general location. That was the other thing she'd said. 'You deserve each
other.' What the hell did that mean?
He knew there were no answers to her cryptic words.
There were never any answers from her, only half-truths and full out lies. For
the first time in his life, he wondered what really happened. Why she really
left his father. He wasn't so sure anymore. She had lied to him so many times,
why should he believe her? The fact that it might be true was the one thing
that had kept him from finding out on his own. That,
and the fact that she wouldn't even tell him the man's name until last week.
He finally dozed off into a fitful sleep filled
with nightmares for a few hours. When he awoke, the dawn had just broken and he
got up and walked to the window to watch it. The streets were empty, it was his favorite time of day. If any of his fellow
professionals knew he got up this early every day, they'd laugh him right off
the border. But for Johnny, it was the only time he ever felt any real peace
and he treasured it.
He checked his resources and grimaced. He knew he
had to find work, knew it probably wouldn't be too hard, but he was in a hurry.
Why, he didn't know, but now that he had the information, he wanted to use it.
He went downstairs and ordered breakfast,
contemplating his next move. There was one other advantage to getting up early, he got first dibs on anyone looking to hire a gun. He
smiled at the thought as the man walked into the saloon. Johnny knew
immediately this man was looking for help.
He watched as the man approached the bartender and
spoke in whispers. He watched as the bartender nodded his head toward Johnny.
He watched the man look him up and down and he hid the smile playing at his lips.
He watched it all without ever looking up from his breakfast.
The man did not approach him but stayed where he
was, drinking coffee and seeming to be waiting for something. Maybe he doesn't
like the looks of me. Maybe he thinks I'm too young or maybe he doesn't like
half-breeds, Johnny thought with some amusement. He finished his breakfast and
pushed the plate away.
As soon as he did this, the man approached him
slowly. "Mr.
Johnny looked up slowly and answered softly. "Yeah?"
"May I join you?"
Johnny scooted out a chair with his foot and
nodded.
"I didn't want to interrupt your
breakfast," the man said with a nervous smile.
"That's real thoughtful of you," Johnny
drawled, giving the man an easy smile in return.
"I, um, well, I'd like to hire you," he
stammered.
Johnny laughed softly. "I didn't think you
were gonna invite me to a dance."
The man relaxed a little at the joke but Johnny
could tell this man was in trouble.
"What can I do for you, mister ..."
"Riker, Abe Riker," he offered. "I
need justice, Mr.
"What's the problem?"
Riker was hesitant, unsure how much to say but
Johnny prodded him silently with a smile.
"I have a daughter. She's fifteen and she's
very pretty. Takes after her mother obviously."
Riker laughed nervously at this small joke. His face fell then, his expression
turning to one of pure agony right in front of Johnny.
He suddenly felt an uneasiness about what this man
was about to say but he maintained an expressionless mask and waited patiently.
"She was on her way home from church Sunday a
week ago. She doesn't usually walk alone but my wife was ill and hadn't
attended and I had stayed to talk with some friends. She wanted to get back and
tend to her mother. I came home two hours later but she'd never made it back. I
went looking for her and found her in some bushes. She'd been ...
attacked." He stopped, his voice trembling.
Johnny's jaw clenched tight as he listened, his
anger growing rapidly. "Who did it?"
"His name is Rafe
Clemons. His father owns a ranch near here, the biggest one around. I tried to
get the
"How is your daughter?"
"She's better but she won't leave the house,
won't speak hardly at all. She has nightmares every
night."
'And that's better?' Johnny thought. "Do you
think she would talk to me, with you there, of course?"
"I don't know. She's so timid now. She was
such an outgoing girl before all this," Riker sighed.
"I'd like to try. If it's too much for her,
I'll back off, I promise," Johnny said softly.
"Why?"
"Let's just say I'd like to get my facts
straight."
*
Mr. Riker took Johnny home with him but asked him
to wait outside. After fifteen minutes, he returned.
"I'm sorry it took so long but she's agreed to
try as long as I stay with her," he apologized.
Johnny followed him into the house. It was a quite
large, Victorian style two-story. He was led into the main sitting room where a
young brown-haired girl was sitting on the sofa, her head bowed.
Johnny stayed at a distance as her father sat
beside her. He walked around to stand on the opposite side of the coffee table.
"Hi," he said barely above a whisper.
"Hello," she replied in much the same
tone.
"I'm Johnny."
"Kaitlin."
"That's a beautiful name. Do you mind if I sit
down?"
"Please," she replied in the same
whispered voice. She had yet to look at him.
"Your father asked for my help, Kaitlin. Did you know that?"
"He told me."
"What do you think about that?" Johnny
held his hand up to silence her father when he opened his mouth.
"I don't know," she answered.
"Do you think you could look at me?"
She hesitated for a minute then finally she raised
her head. Her eyes were the clearest blue he'd ever seen, almost like a tinted
crystal. He smiled gently at her.
"What would you do?" she asked.
"That would be up to you, Kaitlin.
What do you think should be done?"
Those crystals welled with tears but she did not
take her eyes from his. "He should die," she answered in a trembling
voice.
Johnny's expression didn't change,
there was no judgment in his face. "You think he should die for what he
did to you?" he asked without reservation.
She nodded her head affirmatively.
Johnny inhaled deeply. "This is entirely up to
you. If that's what you want, I'll kill him for you. I just want you to be sure
because once it's done, it can't be undone. Do you understand?"
She faltered, her eyes lowering then meeting his
again and he knew instantly this was her father's wish not hers.
"Thank you for talking to me, Kaitlin. Mr. Riker, could I see you outside?" Johnny
said politely and walked out.
"Well, will you take the job?"
"That little girl doesn't know what she's
asking for. If I kill this man and she regrets it, how will you deal with
that?"
"Regret it? She won't regret it, Mr.
"Take is easy. I think you better sit down
here." Johnny took his arm and lowered him to the step.
"She was bloody, her clothes torn. Her mother
had to ... to look at her. She told me how he ... abused my little girl. It
wasn't just rape like you think of it!"
"Alright, Mr. Riker.
You want to hire me, I'll do the job."
"How much?"
Johnny thought for a minute. It wasn't going to be
that tough he reckoned, still it might take a little
time.
"Before I answer that, tell me something. How
hard is it going to be for me to get to him?"
"He's at the saloon almost every night
drinking and womanizing. Why would he do this to my little girl with all those
whores right there in front of him!?"
Johnny couldn't answer that but he also couldn't
stand to watch this man's pain much longer either.
"Two hundred up front.
I have a feeling I'll be leaving town right after. If I get myself killed, you
can take the money off me," Johnny said flatly.
Riker nodded his head. "Wait here,
please."
He came back out with the money. "When will
you do it?"
"First time he comes into town. I'll wait in
the saloon for him. What does he look like?"
"He won't be hard to find. He's six feet, red
hair and skinny, about 160 pounds soaking wet," Riker smirked.
"Rafe Clemons,
right?" Johnny clarified.
"Yes, Rafe
Clemons," Riker repeated.
*
Johnny returned to town and went back to the barber
shop. He had found it was a good place to get information and he wanted to be
sure about this Clemons. It didn't take him long to find out that the Clemons
family was pretty mean and ran over anybody that crossed their path just for
the hell of it. The barber haltingly gave Johnny another very useful piece of
information; Rafe Clemons hated Mexicans.
Johnny smiled widely at this, knowing exactly how
this was going to go down. It sounded almost too easy but he was no fool. He
would not let his defenses down. Clemons would have friends with him, no doubt.
He began mapping out his escape route, making sure he could head west out of
town.
Just before dusk, Johnny retrieved his horse and
tethered him in the alley down from the saloon. He walked inside and sat at a
back table to wait. It didn't take long before a rowdy crew came charging in. A
tall redhead began barking drink orders and pushing at people as he made his
way to the bar.
Johnny watched with some amusement as the man took
charge of the room and it's occupants. Or so he
thought. The bartender served Clemons with a shaky hand and kept shooting looks
in Johnny's direction, just as he had told the man to do.
Clemons finally noticed this and turned to see what
was making the barkeep so flighty.
"Well now," he bellowed so all would hush
and hear him. "Look what we got here, boys. A genuine chili pepper.
No, wait! I'm wrong, I'm wrong. It's half a chili pepper." He grinned and
the room exploded in laughter.
Johnny smiled himself at the joke and sipped his
beer.
Clemons walked over and stood in front of him.
"Well, ain't I right? Ain't you a half a chili pepper?"
Johnny kept his head down and drank his beer
slowly.
"What's the matter, boy? Don't speeky english?" Clemons asked
and howled with laughter.
Johnny looked up slowly and took the man in.
"I speak English," he said softly.
"Hey, it speaks! Hey, can ya dance, too? You
know that Mexican dancing? Come on, boy, dance a little for us," he
laughed.
Johnny smiled full out at him. "You wanna dance? Okay, let's dance. Outside."
He lowered his voice to a deadly tone with the last word. He stood up and
walked toward the door.
"Hey! Where ya goin?"
Clemons yelled.
Johnny stopped at the batwings and turned halfway
around. "You wanted a dance, let's go," he shrugged.
Clemons and his crew followed and when they got
outside, Johnny was standing in the middle of the street.
*
"You callin
me out, boy?" Clemons asked in astonishment.
"Mister, you said you wanted to dance. This is
how I dance. Are you backin
down?" The corner of his lip curled up.
Clemons stepped out into the street and looked him
up and down. "You got any idea who I am, boy?"
"Rafe Clemons,"
Johnny answered with a shrug.
Clemons snorted. "Well, reckon it's your
funeral. Uh, what name should I have 'im put on the
tombstone?"
"I told you, Rafe
Clemons," Johnny smiled. "But, if you're askin
me my name, it's
Clemons smile disappeared and he stared at the man
before him. Then he laughed nervously. "Hear that boys? Punk's tryin to make me think he's Johnny Madrid."
The bartender shouldered his way through the crowd
on the sidewalk and pssst at Clemons then nodded his
head fervently.
"Are you gonna dance, Clemons, or are you a cobarde? That means coward," Johnny said coldly.
"Coward?!"
Clemons croaked out and went for his gun. He fell to the street before the
pistol cleared the holster.
When his 'boys' finally took their eyes off their
boss,
*
Johnny stepped quickly into the alley and made his
way to his horse. He vaulted on and tore out hell bent for leather, due west.
A week later, Johnny rode into Morro Coyo and
checked into the hotel. He asked the clerk for directions to the ranch and got
a rather unfriendly but accurate answer.
"You here on business, mister?" the clerk
asked.
"If I am, it's my own," Johnny clipped
and headed up the stairs. Sometimes, he got so tired of it all.
He didn't come out of his room the rest of the
night. He made a supper of the jerky in his saddlebag and a bottle of tequila.
He didn't want to see anyone as he gathered his thoughts. He wasn't sure how to
go about this or what to expect. He hoped he was right and she had been lying
to him all this time but it was impossible to tell until he came face to face
with the man. Then he would know, he would be able to see it, he was certain.
Murdoch Lancer.
He rolled the name around in his mind over and over. Johnny Lancer. It sounded
pretty good actually. He tried to imagine what the man looked like but it
wouldn't come. He knew he looked a lot like his mother. The only thing he knew
for certain was the man had to have blue eyes. If he didn't, Johnny reckoned it
was the wrong man. He laughed softly at the thought.
He realized with chagrin that he was nervous. What
if she was right? What if he really didn't want him? Or, if he had before,
would he want a gunfighter for a son now? Johnny couldn't imagine he would. He
had no expectations of being welcomed with open arms, no thoughts of even
staying one night there. He just needed answers. Answers she refused to give
him. Answers he hoped his father would be able to provide. If he had those
answers, he felt he could at least die with some peace when his time came.
The next morning he was up with the dawn. He ate
quickly and headed out. He was anxious to get this over with. Riding through
the countryside, he noticed the landscape becoming more lush.
He rode up a steep rise and stopped at the top. Below him, the valley spread
out in deep green grasses with a sparkling blue river below. In the distance,
he could see a white hacienda. It was huge and he raised an eyebrow. Guess she
should have stuck around, he thought wryly.
*
He rode up casually and dismounted in the
courtyard, tethering his horse to the hitching post and scanning the area
simultaneously. He saw several men working and they all had rifles within easy
reach. He frowned as he thought it looked like they were ready for trouble. He
had noticed the guards on the roof as he came in and wondered if he'd make it
to the front door. A smile crossed his face then he sobered and walked onto the
porch.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then
knocked on the door. He heard it open and his head came up slowly, taking in
the mountain in front of him.
"Murdoch Lancer?"
"Yes, may I help you?"
"My name is Johnny Madrid. I was hoping I
could..."
"Johnny?" Murdoch nearly gasped.
"Uh, come in, please come in," he said, fanning his arm out to show
the way.
Johnny removed his hat and walked into the great
room. Taking it in quickly, he almost whistled. He
turned to see the man gawking at him.
Johnny cleared his throat and smiled a little. He
had it all worked out, what he would say, but suddenly, those thoughts were
gone.
"Can I get you some coffee?" Murdoch
offered.
"No, thanks.
I'm fine," he smiled. "I'm not sure how to say this. I, uh, well, I think ... I was told…" He couldn't do it and he
didn't know why.
"You are my son," Murdoch said definitively.
"I've been looking for you for so long."
"You have?" Johnny asked, clearly stunned
by this revelation.
"Yes. This is just so amazing. I only found
out two months ago what name you were using. I've had the Pinkerton Agency
searching for you on and off for years."
"Pinkertons! I ... I've been dodging them for
the last few weeks. Didn't know what they wanted but I figured it couldn't be
good," Johnny said with a small laugh.
They both fell silent for a moment, taking each
other in. Murdoch stared openly at him and Johnny began to feel uncomfortable.
"You look like your mother," he said
softly.
"I know, except the eyes, right? She always
said I had your eyes," Johnny said, then bowed his head. "So, you
were gettin close, huh?"
"Yes, um, well, take a look at this."
Murdoch walked to his desk and pulled out a thick file. "This is you. It's
been pretty thin until the last few months. Once they discovered who you were
... well, it was easier to get information."
Johnny ran his hand over the cover that read Johnny
Lancer AKA Johnny Madrid. He smiled ruefully. "For me this is backwards.
It should say AKA Johnny Lancer." Saying that name aloud actually
surprised him, but it sounded ... right.
"Sit down, son."
Johnny's head jerked up and he opened his mouth, then closed it again. He took a seat on the sofa and Murdoch
sat in the chair near him.
"Why now? I mean, what made you decide to come
see me?"
"I just found out who you were. I didn't know
your name or where you lived until a few weeks ago."
Murdoch frowned at this but then he thought, why would she have told him anything. "How did you find
out?"
"My mother told me," he said flatly.
"I'm sorry? What did you say?"
"My mother told me," Johnny restated.
"But you said you only found out a few weeks
ago," Murdoch said, confused.
"That's right."
"How could she have told you? She's been dead
for over ten years," Murdoch asked.
"Dead?
Maria's not dead. She's in
"But, the report.
It said you've been alone since you were ten," Murdoch whispered.
"That's right. She didn't die, she left
me," he said, no emotion in his voice.
"She left you!?" Murdoch shouted, getting
to his feet.
*
Johnny was taken aback by the outburst and watched
in fascination as the tall man paced around the entire living room. He had to
turn half around to watch him. He could see the anger on the man's face and the
pain as well. He watched in amazement as his father worked to control himself.
'Wonder if that's how I look when I do that,' he thought.
Murdoch finally returned to his seat. "I'm
sorry about that. I wasn't expecting it."
"It's okay. I didn't know you thought she was
dead. Look, I just wanted to meet you, maybe find out some things. I don't want
to cause you no trouble."
"Trouble?
You're no trouble, son. I'll try to answer your questions but I'm afraid you
might be disappointed. You see, I don't know why she left. I woke one morning
to find her gone and you with her. No note, no warning,
nothing."
Johnny laughed softly. "Yeah, sounds like her.
At least she told me when she left. Guess she didn't want me tryin to find her. Boy, was she
mad when I did find her in
"Mad? Why?"
Johnny shrugged. "Didn't
want me around. Problem was, well, I'm grown now and I wasn't gonna
leave her alone until she at least told me your name."
Murdoch's forehead furrowed once more when he heard
this. "Did she give you any indication of why she left here?"
Johnny glanced at the floor, then
locked eyes with his father. "She said you threw us both out."
"What?!"
Murdoch was beside himself. What kind of woman did he marry? "I can't
believe she would say such a thing," he said, his voice much lower.
Johnny hmmphed at
this. "Believe me, she's said a lot worse. It
doesn't matter to me, not anymore, but I guess you'd like to know. I'll tell
you right now, though, if you go to see her... well, she's just not gonna want
to see you, is all."
"That's pretty obvious. I guess I'd just like
to understand why she hates me so much. We had a good marriage for a while. I
knew she wasn't happy at the end but I guess I thought she would come to me,
talk to me about it. I never thought in a million years she would up and leave
like that."
"I'm sorry." He could think of nothing
else to say.
*
Murdoch looked at him and smiled. "So you
decided to look up your old man. I'm glad, very glad."
"Are you sure? Look, I don't know what's
really in those files, but ..."
"I know you're a gunfighter, Johnny. I had
heard of you before I knew you were my son. I guess my question for you is; is
that what you want or would you consider staying on here?"
Johnny's eyes widened with surprise. "You'd
want me here? Do you know what you're saying? Look, even if I walked away,
there are people who hate me. It could be a lot of trouble for you."
Murdoch chuckled. "In case you hadn't noticed,
I have plenty of trouble around here as it is. I know it won't be easy, for
either of us, but I would like to try. I spent so many years trying to find you
and here you show up on your own. I can't tell you what this means to me,
Johnny. I'll admit, when I first found out about Johnny Madrid, I was shocked.
But, if you can accept the idea of trying to change your life, living and
working here with me, then I can accept what you did for a living."
Johnny swallowed hard, he
never expected this, any of it. He thought he would talk to the man, try to get
some answers, then light out. "I think I'd like
to give it a try," he said softly. "What kind of trouble are you
having? Sure got a lot of armed vaqueros around here."
"High riders.
They've taken over half the valley already. Now, they're coming after Lancer.
They've killed my stock, burned my fields and killed my men. Only the best have
stayed with
"Who are they?"
"The leader is a man named Pardee."
"Day. Day Pardee."
"You know him?"
"Oh yes, I know him. He's a gunfighter and
he's good, too. Yeah, I'd say you got yourself some trouble all right,"
Johnny grinned. "Guess I showed up just in time," he added with a
full out smile.
"Not much of a homecoming, is it?"
Murdoch smiled back.
"Yes, it is. More than I ever expected,"
Johnny said, turning serious.
*
"Well, let's get you settled. Oh, you should
meet Teresa," Murdoch said, a million thoughts whirling through his mind.
"That your wife?"
"What? Oh, no," Murdoch laughed.
"Teresa is my ward. Her father was my segundo.
Pardee killed him a few months ago. Just wait right here."
Johnny stood up and walked around the room, taking
it all in. The place was massive and he thought idly he could get lost. A smile
crossed his lips at that thought. Wouldn't be so bad gettin
lost in a place like this.
"Johnny? This is Teresa O'Brien," Murdoch
said, interrupting his thoughts.
Johnny turned to find a beautiful young girl
standing in front of him. He smiled and nodded his head.
"It's so good you meet you, Johnny. Welcome
home." Teresa smiled.
"Thank you," he said, a bit stunned by
her acceptance.
Suddenly, they heard shouts from outside in Spanish
and a whirl of activity. Murdoch strode to the French doors and Johnny was
right behind him.
Sitting on their horses, just outside the wall,
were Pardee and his men. They seemed to be waiting for something.
"What now?" Murdoch groused.
"Teresa, get my rifle," he barked.
Teresa handed him his rifle and he looked at
Johnny.
"Might be a good idea if Pardee didn't
see me right off. Give us the element of surprise," he
grinned.
Murdoch smiled and nodded and walked out to face
the enemy. Johnny pulled his Colt and checked it.
"What do you want, Pardee?" Murdoch
called.
"Same as always, Lancer. Time for you to go. Up to you if it's easy or hard,"
Pardee called back.
"I think that's up to you, Day," Johnny
said as he walked out and stood by his father.
"Johnny Madrid?" Pardee fairly gasped,
then narrowed his eyes. "Hirin guns now,
Lancer?"
"This ain't a job, Day," Johnny said as
he stepped out into the open. "This is my father's land and I want you to
get off."
Pardee's eyebrows went up with this information, a
split second before he drew. Johnny drew and fired, then rolled to his left,
taking out two more henchmen as he went. All hell broke loose as Pardee's men
returned fire and the Lancer vaquero's joined the fight. Nobody at the ranch
had time to react to the news that the patron's son had returned.
Pardee lay dead next to the gate and after a few
minutes of fierce fighting, his men decided the battle was lost without their
leader. They mounted up and cleared out in a thunder of horse hooves.
*
Everything grew eerily quiet in the aftermath of
the battle and Johnny walked out to where Day Pardee lay. He crouched down
beside the body and shook his head slowly. "We always did wonder which of
us was faster, didn't we, Day?"
He sighed and stood, then walked back to Murdoch
who had watched his every move.
"We were friends once," he explained.
"I'm sorry, Johnny."
"No need. He made his choice and he lost.
Comes to us all sooner or later," Johnny shrugged.
"Well, come inside. I'm sure you could use a
rest. I know I could."
Johnny settled in his new room and tried to nap but
he had never been one to doze so sleep would not come. He left the room and
ambled downstairs, exploring the house. He found the kitchen and an older woman
busy at the stove.
"Buenos dias,"
he said softly.
She turned and looked him up and down, then smiled
brightly. "Buenos dias, Juanito.
żconsiguió sueńo?"
Johnny smiled and shook his head. "No mucho para
dormir durante
el día."
She smiled and nodded then returned to her work.
"żCuál es su nombre,
Senora?"
"Maria," she answered,
her back still to him.
His eyes darkened for a split second before he
recovered. "Bueno," he whispered and walked
to the living room.
He meandered around the room then sighed and walked
outside to the barn.
He stopped at the corral and surveyed the horses
with a smile. 'Good stock,' he thought.
"Buenos dias."
"Buenos dias,"
Johnny answered.
The man walked up to him but he was not smiling. He
looked directly into Johnny's eyes when he spoke. "My name is Cipriano. I
have worked for Senor Lancer for many years. What are your intentions here,
Senor?"
Johnny raised an eyebrow at the man's directness
then smiled. "To have my family," he answered honestly.
Cipriano's expression relaxed and he smiled. "Bueno. You papa will have
much to tell you, I am sure. There is a horse you should see, nino," he said and turned to
the corral.
"Cipriano, I am not a nino,"
Johnny said crossly.
Cipriano turned back to him. "To me, you are a
nino. When you are my age, a boy your age will be a nino to you. Do you disrespect
me?" His voice was full of challenge and Johnny recognized the old ways of
this man.
"No, Senor. Perdóneme,"
Johnny said respectfully.
Cipriano nodded. "That one, that is the horse
for you," he said authoritatively.
*
Johnny took in the handsome palomino with it's golden coat and white mane. It was a stunning animal
and he smiled. Stepping into the corral he started to approach the horse.
"He is not broken," Cipriano warned.
"Okay," Johnny said softly.
Within the hour, he was riding the palomino across
the meadow full out, giving the horse it's head and
relishing the wind in his face, the sun beaming down on him.
Murdoch walked out as he was riding back into the
corral. "Cipriano, you gave him that horse?"
"Si, and he has
gentled it as I knew he would," the vaquero smiled.
"That is one fine animal," Johnny grinned
as he slid off the horse's back.
"Well, I'm glad you like him, he's yours."
"Really?"
Johnny smiled, then looked curiously at his father.
"Why?"
"Why? Well, because you broke him and because
I'd say you earned him."
Johnny nodded his acceptance of the explanation and
Murdoch could see this young man took nothing at face value.
*
After supper that evening, Murdoch invited Johnny out
on the veranda for a drink. The cool breeze was enticing and the young man
settled on a low wall with his feet up and his back resting against the cool
stone.
"Nice night," Johnny remarked.
"We have a lot of those around here. More now
that Pardee is out of the way. Thank you for that."
Johnny shrugged. "You're welcome."
"There are a lot of things you need to know,
Johnny. About me and about you. I've been trying to
think of how to tell you all of it. I thought I should start with what's right
in front of you. Cipriano," Murdoch said, pausing for a reaction.
"What about him?"
"He is your mother's uncle, Johnny."
Johnny sat straight up and stared at the man.
"My tio?" he whispered.
"Yes."
Johnny swallowed hard, then
smiled. "He knows of course," he said more than asked.
"Yes, he knows."
Johnny laughed softly. "Put me in my place
today." He sobered then. "What does he think about my mother?"
"We don't discuss it. I guess it's just not
something he wants to talk about."
"He's a family man, likes the old ways. Yeah,
I guess he wouldn't talk about things like that."
"Well, it's been a long day. Think I'll turn
in."
"What else did you want to tell me?"
Johnny asked.
"Tomorrow, okay?" Murdoch said, his face
becoming serious.
Johnny nodded his head. "Goodnight."
*
The next morning, Johnny walked into the kitchen to
find his father sipping a cup of coffee. "Mornin."
"Good morning. How did you sleep?"
"Good. You?"
Johnny smiled.
"The same.
I thought you might want to take a ride with me, get a look at the ranch."
"Sure, that'd be great. Then you'll tell me
what else I'm supposed to know, right?" Johnny asked, raising an eyebrow.
Murdoch dropped his eyes and nodded. "Right."
They headed out across the meadow and Murdoch took
him to
"This is some place. Must
have taken years to build up."
"It did indeed. Twenty-five years to be
exact," Murdoch said with pride.
Johnny turned and looked at him and smiled.
"So, what else do you have to tell me?"
"You are persistent," Murdoch chuckled.
"Only because I get the feeling it's
important," Johnny said seriously.
"It is, very important. Let's sit over here."
Murdoch settled on an old log.
Johnny joined him, a strange feeling in his gut
that put him on edge.
"This is going to be hard to hear but I need
you to let me say it all before you react. I was
married once before to a young woman I met in
“I arranged for her father to meet her in a place
called Carterville and escort her the rest of the way.
She went into labor in Carterville and had the baby. Her father was there and
he took the child back to
Johnny stayed still, knowing there was much more to
this.
*
"Once the trouble was over I wrote to Harlan
Garrett, Catherine's father, to tell him I would be coming for the baby. He
wrote me back and said he wouldn't give him up and if I tried to take him, he
would drag me through the courts for years. At that time, my resources were
pretty low. I thought I would bide my time and then go get my son. During that
time, I met your mother. After you were born, it was my dream to bring Scott
home and raise my family. Then, well, you know what happened."
Johnny didn't speak for a while, rolling this
information around in his mind. He was full of questions but one more than any
other. "Why didn't you go get him after that?"
"I did, I tried. I went on his fifth birthday
to see him and to bring him home. He didn't even know who I was. Harlan
threatened court action again only this time, he swore he would make Scott a
part of it. I just couldn't let him get hurt like that. Can you
understand?" Murdoch asked, seeming to need his son's understanding
desperately.
Johnny nodded his head. "So, I guess this
Garrett, he's pretty rich or something?"
"Yes, and powerful in
"Well, I guess I can understand, Murdoch, but
what about when he turned twenty-one?"
"That was three years ago. I guess I thought he wouldn't want to see me
by then. I can't imagine what Harlan has told him over the years."
"Have you tried writing to him? Asking him to
come see you?"
"I wrote to him all the time when I thought he
was old enough to understand. I sent him birthday and Christmas presents every
year but I never got a reply. I'm sure he hates
"So, I have a half brother who
lives in
"Very little.
He was in the cavalry during the War Between the States and he went to
"When's the last time you tried to contact
him?"
"Two months ago. I wrote to him but never
heard back."
"Maybe ... maybe if I wrote to him.
Does he know about me?"
"I doubt it. I can't see Harlan Garrett
telling him. It's a nice thought, Johnny, but if he hates me that much, he
might not care," Murdoch said gently.
"I'm gonna do it anyway. I'm not much on
writing letters but this is too important," Johnny said firmly. He was
already formulating his thoughts and he had a sneaking suspicion that his
brother's grandfather had a lot to do with whether Scott ever actually got any
of the letters their father sent. Still, he wanted to be absolutely sure of
something.
"I take it this Garrett doesn't like you
much," he fished.
"Hmmph!
That's putting it mildly. He has never forgiven me for marrying his daughter
and taking her away. He blames me for her death," Murdoch said sourly.
Johnny didn't comment on this, he figured as much.
"Well, what did you have in mind for the rest of the day?"
"I have some things to take care of. Would you
like to come along?"
"Yeah, I would," Johnny said softly.
They spent the rest of the day riding the range,
checking the herd and Murdoch gave instructions and orders to his men. He
introduced Johnny to them and let them know his son would be staying.
*
Johnny retired early after supper. After procuring
some paper and a pencil from Maria, he began drafting his letter to his
brother. Balls of crumpled paper were strewn about the room by the time he
finished, but he felt he had gotten it right and he reread the letter.
'Scott,
You don't
know me and I don't know you. My name is Johnny and I am your brother. Well,
half-brother to be exact. I recently met our father and he told me about you.
He also told me he has written to you many times over the years and asked you
to come see him just recently. You have never replied to any of those letters
and he thinks it is because you hate him. That may be true, I don't know, but
the man I met surprised me. I was made to believe he didn't want me in his life
but I found that was a lie. Maybe you haven't been told the whole truth either.
However you feel about Murdoch Lancer, I am hoping that finding out you have a
brother might change your mind about visiting. I have decided to stay here with
our father and it would mean a lot to me if I could at least meet you. If you
don't want to come to Lancer and would like to meet with me, we could arrange
to meet someplace else. It's your choice, anytime and anywhere
you say, I'll be there.
Respectfully,
Johnny
Lancer
He looked over the letter three times and,
satisfied, he placed it in the envelope and went downstairs.
"Murdoch, could you give me Scott's
address?"
Murdoch looked up from his paperwork. "You're
sure you want to do this?"
"I'm sure."
Murdoch pulled out an old envelope and handed it to
Johnny. It was from Harlan Garrett. Johnny copied the address with Scott's name
and left the return address blank.
"Aren't you going to put who it's from?"
"Nope," Johnny grinned.
*
Scott Lancer knocked on his grandfather's study
door and heard the man grunt a 'come in’. He smiled and opened the door, peeking his head through.
"Grandfather?
You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Scotty. You have a letter. No return
address, it's probably from one of those 'army buddies' of yours," the old
man grumped distastefully.
Scott rolled his eyes and walked over to retrieve
the missive. "May I?" he asked, indicating a chair.
"Of course," Harlan replied, his tone
softening.
Scott smiled and sat down, opening the letter
carefully. He began to read and the second sentence caused him to inhale
sharply. Glancing at his grandfather, he smiled to reassure the man so he could
finish the letter. Scott's face became a mask of anger as he read, his jaw
tightening with each word. When he had finished, he stood up and walked over to
stand directly in front of his grandfather's desk.
"Would you mind explaining this to me,
Sir?"
Harlan Garrett looked at him as if he'd lost his
mind, then took the letter Scott had thrown in front
of him. His face paled as he read, then it turned red.
"Well? Is this true? I have a brother?"
Scott demanded.
"Scotty, he's nobody. He is a half-breed
Mexican nobody!"
"How can you sit there and ... and what is
this about my father writing to me several times and asking me to come
visit?" he asked, his mind whirling in anger and disbelief.
"Your father didn't want you! Why would I bother you with letters from him?!"
"How dare you intercept my personal
correspondence? I cannot believe you would be so deceitful. I have a brother
and you don't think I should know that? And don't tell me he is a nobody!"
"Lower your voice, young man!" Harlan
demanded.
Scott took a deep breath and fought for control. "Certainly, Grandfather. I will lower my voice. So low,
you won't hear it again. I will be leaving for
*
Two days later, Murdoch took Johnny into Morro Coyo
with him for supplies. "I'll check the mail if you want to start gathering
the supplies, son."
Johnny nodded and went into the store as Murdoch
headed for the stage depot. He returned within a few minutes with an odd look
on his face.
"What's wrong?" Johnny asked.
"Nothing, there's a telegram here for you,
Johnny Lancer," Murdoch said and handed it over.
Johnny frowned and opened the wire, his face
brightening into a smile.
"Left Boston Thursday morning. Can't wait to meet you and Murdoch. Will
be in Morro Coyo in seven days.
Scott." he read aloud.
Murdoch smiled as he heard the words.
"Did you hear that? He can't wait to meet US.
That's mean's you, old man. Ya know, I have a feeling
Scott's grandfather kept those letters of yours from him."
"Why would he ... never mind, you may be
right. I hope so, because that would mean ... well, maybe he doesn't hate me."
Murdoch felt a glimmer of hope for the first time about his eldest son.
*
For the next week, Murdoch was in a pensive mood.
Johnny, unsure of the man, wasn't prepared to deal with this. He sought out
Teresa.
"He hides his feelings most of the time,
Johnny. But, he's scared. He's worried Scott will reject him, just as he
worried that you would. When you came here on your own, that
told him you wanted to be with him."
"How do I get him to ease up? He's gonna bust
something if he doesn't take it easy," Johnny frowned.
Teresa smiled. "It's so nice to know you worry
about him."
Johnny returned the smile. "Well, I guess it's
easier for me to give him a chance, bein as my mother
..." he trailed off, his expression turning dark.
Teresa laid a gentle hand on his arm. "I'm
just glad you're home and that Scott is coming. I just hope he gives you both a
chance."
"He will, I know it. Don't know how I know,
but I do," Johnny said confidently.
*
After much discussion, Murdoch agreed to wait at
the ranch while Johnny went to pick Scott up at the stage. He arrived in town
with time to spare and decided to fortify himself with a cool beer. Heading
back out of the cantina, he saw the stage rounding the corner and his heart
went to his stomach.
'Come on,
He watched as the passengers disembarked. He saw a
tall blond man who was overdressed step off the stage and look around. Johnny
smiled, that had to be him.
"Scott Lancer?" he called out softly.
"Yes."
"I'm Johnny. Nice to meet
you, brother." He smiled and extended his hand.
Scott smiled back and shook hands as he took in the
young man before him. "It's a pleasure."
"I got a buggy over here. Which luggage is
yours?"
After loading the luggage, they both climbed into
the buggy. Johnny flipped the reins and took off without further ado.
"Long trip?" he asked.
"It certainly was," Scott replied
politely.
"Well, we're glad you made it."
"Your letter said you hadn't been here long
yourself."
"That's right. Just a couple
of days when I wrote to you. Murdoch told me about you and, well, I
figured I might be able to get you come out or at least meet me somewhere."
"I must say, it was a shock. I didn't know
about you. I didn't know Mr. Lancer had written to me before, either,"
Scott admitted.
"I figured as much. Once he told me how much
Garrett hates him, I figured the old man might keep things about Murdoch from
you."
"And exactly how did you make that
assumption?" Scott asked heatedly.
"Easy there. I just know how people think.
Your grandfather hates your father. Makes sense to me he'd want to keep you as
far away from the man as possible. He's done it for over twenty years."
"You don't know anything about my grandfather.
He raised me when my own father didn't want me," Scott replied haughtily.
Johnny sighed and pulled over to the side of the
road. He turned to face the easterner.
*
"Look, let's set things straight here.
I don't know your grandfather or you. I barely know Murdoch Lancer. But I can
read people, I can tell when they're bein straight
and Murdoch's been straight with me. I believe him when he says he sent you
letters and presents. I believe him when he says Garrett blames him for your
mother's death and I believe him when he says he wants you here."
"He sent me presents?" Scott asked in
disbelief.
"Every birthday and Christmas," Johnny
confirmed.
"I never got them," Scott whispered.
"Maybe your grandfather has some things to
answer for, too. That's between you and Murdoch. Whatever happens with him, I'd
like to get to know my brother. I never had any family to speak of growing
up," Johnny said, his voice dropping.
Scott looked at him and smiled. "I'd like
that, too, brother."
*
They pulled into the courtyard and stepped down.
Scott gazed at the house and thought idly it was larger than the Garrett
estate.
"You want some company or do you want to go it
alone?"
"I think I'd like some company." Scott smiled, his heart in his throat.
Johnny showed him inside and into the living room
where Murdoch was waiting in the middle of the room.
"Scott, this is our father," he said
simply and stepped back.
Scott removed his gloves and dropped them in his
hat, then walked up to his father. "It's nice to meet you, Sir."
Murdoch took him in, noticing his eyes and stature.
"It's good to have you here, Scott," he said as they shook hands.
There was an awkward silence in the room as each
man tried to gather his thoughts. Murdoch cleared his throat.
"Perhaps you'd like to get cleaned up. Johnny
can show you to your room."
"Thank you, I would like to freshen up."
Johnny took him upstairs. "That's my room
across the hall. This one's yours," he said as he opened the door.
Scott stepped through and nodded his approval. He
noticed his bags already there and he began unpacking.
Johnny leaned against the door jamb and watched, a
smile playing at his lips.
"Did you want to tell me about yourself or
shall we ease into this?"
"Makes no difference to me," Johnny
shrugged. "I wouldn't want to scare you off on your first day,
though," he grinned devilishly.
Scott turned and smiled. "I don't scare
easily."
"No, I don't guess you do. Well, let's see. My
mother ran out on the old man when I was about two and took me along for the
ride. She told me he threw us out. About a month or so ago, I tracked her down
and made her tell me his name and where he was. I came here and he told me he
didn't throw us out and that she took off in the middle of the night. Knowing
her, I figured that was the truth so I decided to stay when he offered."
"Your mother is alive then."
"Yeah, she is. Look, the thing is, I'm a
gunfighter, used the name Johnny Madrid. I guess I should say I was a
gunfighter. Things have been happening so fast, it's hard to keep up."
Johnny laughed softly.
Scott was looking at him oddly though and he
bristled. "I've read some books about the west and gunfighters."
"Yeah?
Well, don't believe everything you read," Johnny said coldly.
"You really do believe Mr. Lancer, don't
you?" Scott asked, deciding to change the subject.
"Yes, I do. Are you gonna keep calling him
that?"
"What should I call him? Father doesn't seem
appropriate under the circumstances."
"I just call him Murdoch or old man. He don't like that too much though," Johnny laughed.
"The thing is, Scott, I know my mother and that's why I believe him. I
guess you're gonna have to decide how well you know your grandfather and what
you can believe," Johnny said seriously.
Scott looked away and nodded.
"Well, I guess you'll want to get yourself
cleaned up. Teresa put fresh water and towels out for you. Oh, you'll meet her,
she's Murdoch's ward and she's a sweet girl, you'll like her." Johnny
smiled and closed the door behind him.
*
Scott sat on the bed and sighed heavily. His mind
was whirling with the possibilities. He had to admit, his grandfather had lied
to him about the letters, kept the knowledge of his brother's existence from
him. How far would he go to keep him away from his father? Scott wasn't sure he
wanted the answer to that. He had a feeling of dread that this was coming to a
choice between his father and grandfather. A choice he did not want to have to
make.
Scott did indeed meet Teresa later that day and he
was quite impressed with her. The word spitfire came to his mind and he smiled.
Young but competent, he wondered how she had gotten so strong. Maybe just
living in this country made a person, man or woman, strong. He'd always thought
of himself as a strong person as well. Maybe it was inborn,
maybe he could find a way to make this work. Before he could consider that
possibility, he had to have an honest talk with Murdoch Lancer.
That evening after supper, Johnny and Teresa made
themselves scarce. Scott found himself alone with his father and neither of
them found any comfort in the situation.
"I suppose you have some questions for
"Yes, Sir, I do. The first one would be, why did you leave me in
"At first, I thought it was for the best.
Those were dangerous times here. That's why I sent your mother east in the
first place. Once the danger was over, I wrote to Harlan and he told me he
wouldn't let you go. I had no money to fight him with at the time. The ranch,
well it wasn't what it is today. Then I met Johnny's mother. After she left, I
spent a considerable amount of time trying to find them. I did come to see you
on your fifth birthday but I don't suppose you would remember."
"No, I'm afraid I don't. Why didn't you take
me with you then?" Scott asked softly.
"Oh, Scott, Harlan made it clear he would
fight me every inch of the way. With my wife leaving me and his position in
Scott took all this in and he could see the
position his father had been put in. He couldn't believe his grandfather would
drag him through a court battle but he could also see how Murdoch couldn't take
the chance.
"And later, when I was older?"
"I wrote to you, son. When you turned twenty-one,
I invited you to come but you never replied."
"I didn't get the letter. I never got any
letters or anything from you."
He saw the anguish on his father's face and knew
Johnny had told him the truth.
"I guess I'm not as sneaky as your brother. I always
put the return address on my letters." Murdoch smiled a little.
Scott smiled despite himself. "My
brother. That was quite a shock," he laughed.
"I can imagine but he was determined. I'm
quite sure he'd be on a train bound for
Murdoch walked over to Scott's side and locked eyes
with him. "Would you consider staying on here, trying to become the family
we should have been?"
Scott looked into his father's eyes and saw the
truth. "I'd like that very much, Sir."
Murdoch smiled brightly, then
suddenly, he bellowed for Johnny.
Johnny rushed into the great room ready for
anything when he saw the smiles plastered on his family's faces.
"What?"
"I'd like to make you both an offer. One-third of Lancer. Equal shares to all of us."
Johnny and Scott both raised an eyebrow at the
offer.
"How long you been thinkin
about this?"
"Since the day you were born, Johnny. I have
one stipulation, I call the tune. Agreed?"
Scott nodded his head and smiled. Johnny smiled too
and looked up at his father.
"Sounds good to me."
"We'll go into town tomorrow and draw up the
papers." Murdoch smiled and placed a hand on each of his son's shoulders.
"Welcome home, boys."
THE END
winj
2003