The Lancer Fanfiction Archive

The Devil's Own series:
Irony
A Kind of Homecoming
An Uneasy Alliance
Hypocrisy


WARNING: SOME BAD LANGUAGE

Hypocrisy

Part One

The room was stiflingly hot and the air was heavy with the smell of sweat.  A fly was buzzing as it pushed against the window searching for a way out.  And who could blame it?  He’d give anything to be out of this damn room and be back in the fresh air.  And all the time their voices were droning on, talking of inconsequential things instead of getting down to the reason they were all really here.  Because there had to be a reason for this meeting, of that there was no doubt.  But no one had told him what it was.  These days he felt excluded.  Over the past few weeks he had tried to close his ears to the gossip but it was all but impossible not to hear some of the cutting remarks or catch the looks of disapproval on people’s faces. 

Well, he’d always known it would be like this, so really, he shouldn’t be surprised but it still hurt.  He looked at the faces around the table.  Men he’d known for thirty years and yet, now, it seemed that the Cattlemen’s Association had turned against him en masse and all because his son had finally come home.  What the hell did they expect him to do?  Turn his son away?  But of course that was exactly what they expected him to do.  And they’d told him so frequently.  It felt like the whole community stood against him and he was helpless in the face of their implacable opposition to the presence of Johnny in their valley.  Nothing he said made any difference.  And, if he was honest, Johnny’s behaviour didn’t help matters. 

Will Turpin’s voice broke into his thoughts.  “Now, gentlemen, we come to the main reason for our meeting today.  The future arrangements for the transference of funds.  I know in the past we have all known exactly when money would be moved by stage but as previously agreed, in future it will be best if just one man is responsible for those arrangements.  It will reduce the possibility of the information becoming common knowledge.  We can’t be too careful when it comes to protecting our money.”

The men sitting at the table all nodded in agreement.  “Aye, well said, Will.  We can’t be too careful these days.”  Matt Dixon’s voice was louder than the others and as he spoke he looked directly at Murdoch.

Murdoch clenched his jaw.  So this was the reason for the meeting.  “I wasn’t a party to these discussions.  This is the first I’ve heard of it and I consider it a totally unnecessary precaution.”

Will looked across at him, smiling smoothly.  “Oh, didn’t we mention it to you, Murdoch?  We must have overlooked you in the pre meeting discussions.  Sorry about that.”

“You know damn well you didn’t consult me.”  Murdoch glared at him, trying to resist the urge to smash his fist into the man’s smug face.

Matt Dixon cut across him.  “You can hardly be surprised, Murdoch.  Do you really think that there’s a man here who wants Madrid to know when we’re moving large sums of money? You think we’d trust a man like him?  He’s not wanted here and I for one will warn you, if he sets foot on my land I’ll be only too happy to put a bullet in him.”

Murdoch bit back an angry retort as he listened to the murmurs of agreement from all round the table.  Henry Carter nodded, saying, “No one wants Madrid here.  He’s a threat to us all.  Good people are afraid to let their women folk drive into town now because of him.  No one’s safe anymore.”

“Thanks to my two sons, you’re all a damn sight safer than you were.  They helped rid this valley of the land pirates and Johnny took a bullet in the back doing so.  You owe him your gratitude, not your condemnation.”

Carter glared across the table.  “I bet he only got rid of them so that there will be more for him when he makes his move.”

Murdoch shut his eyes briefly in exasperation.  “And do tell me, Henry, exactly how you think my son is going to seize control of this valley single handed?  I’ve never heard anything so damn stupid in my life.”

Carter banged his fist down.  “Never thought you were a fool, Murdoch.  That boy of yours has probably got a gang all ready to move on this valley.  He’s scum and he’s not wanted here.”

Murdoch smashed his fist down on the table, easily outdoing Carter’s force.  All the glasses on the table rattled from the impact.  “Don’t you dare talk of my son like that.  He risked his life saving my ranch, and almost died doing so.  He’s got more guts in his little finger than you have in your entire body.”

Will Turpin held his hand up.  “Gentlemen, gentlemen, let’s all calm down.  This matter can be easily resolved.  I suggest we take a vote on it.  All those in favour of making our financial arrangements the responsibility of just one man in future, raise your hands.”

Murdoch watched as the men raised their hands.  Every hand, barring that of John Dove, one of the older ranchers, was raised. 

Will Turpin smiled his oily smile.  “Well, that’s carried then.  Now all we have to do is decide who will have the responsibility.”

Murdoch shoved his chair away so hard it struck the table with a satisfying thump.  “Lancer will make its own arrangements.  The rest of you can do as you damn well like.  Good day to you.”  He turned on his heel and strode out of the room.  God, how could he have not seen this coming?  Once the Association had insisted on having its meetings anywhere other than Lancer he should have been prepared for this sort of ambush.  Well, damn them all.  They could all go to hell. 

He had reached his horse when he heard John Dove call to him.  “Sorry about that, Murdoch, but there was no stopping them and I didn’t have a chance to get word to you before the meeting.  They kept me in the dark until the last moment.”

Murdoch sighed.  “They knew you’d back me, John.  But I’m grateful for your support.”  He shook his head sadly.  “They won’t give Johnny a chance even though he’s earned it.  They’ve made up their minds and that’s it.  All I can hope is that over time they’ll ease up but I’m not expecting it any time soon.”

“Murdoch, you need to warn that boy of yours to stay away from their ranches.  I wouldn’t put it past any of them to put a bullet in him.  They really have got it in for him.”

Murdoch felt a cold clutch of fear.  “You really believe that, John?”

The other man nodded sadly.  “They’re blowing it out of all proportion, I know, but they mean business, Murdoch.  And let’s face it, your boy has got himself quite a reputation and that scares a lot of folk.  And that gunfight he had in Green River a while back, well, it didn’t help matters.”

“That wasn’t Johnny’s fault.  Those men came looking for him, what was he meant to do?”

“The fact that people came looking for him is exactly what some folk are worried about.  We’ve had very few gunfighters in this territory but your son comes home and suddenly there’s a big gunfight in the town.  That’s what scares them.  And yes, maybe they’re over reacting, but the fact remains that they’ve already seen trouble and that don’t make them none too happy.”  The man looked at Murdoch.  “And let’s be honest here, Murdoch, your son don’t go out of his way to be too friendly.  Comes into town wearing that gun of his real low and he’s always in the whorehouse.  It don’t go down too well.”

He knew the man was right.  Johnny didn’t go out of his way to be friendly but if Murdoch was honest with himself he knew that even if Johnny made more effort it probably wouldn’t make any difference.  People had already made up their minds and there seemed to be little prospect of anything changing.  “Well, thanks again for your support in there.  It’s appreciated, John, and I’ll warn Johnny about going on anyone’s land.”

“He’s always welcome on mine, Murdoch.  He’s your son, that’s good enough for me.”  And with a wave the man walked back into the meeting.

Pity more people weren’t like John Dove.  At least he was willing to give Johnny a chance.  But he was in a minority.  Murdoch sighed.  Minority?  He was the only one prepared to give Johnny a chance.  Although doubtless his old friend Aggie would too, if she ever got to meet Johnny.  On the one occasion she had come for lunch, expressly to meet the two boys, Johnny had gone into town saying he was damned if he was going to be inspected like some prize bull.  The incident had embarrassed Murdoch.  He’d tried to explain Johnny’s absence by claiming that some cattle had got caught in a gully and that Johnny was out with a work party.  But he suspected that Aggie hadn’t believed him.  It was the raised eyebrow that had given her away. 

If only Johnny wasn’t always so damned awkward.  Although things had improved since the boy had come home after the incident with Stryker, the atmosphere was still strained.  They still seemed to fall out regularly but at least there had been no major fights.  God only knew what went on in the boy’s head though.  He couldn’t figure Johnny at all.  Still, Scott seemed to get on well enough with him.  Sam obviously liked him and at least the boy was courteous to Teresa.   Perhaps that was the most he could hope for at present. 

He didn’t want to ride back to the ranch yet.  The boys would wonder why he was back so soon.  He wasn’t far from Aggie’s place.  Only the other side of the hill.  And making a decision he turned towards her ranch.  A glass of lemonade would be welcome on such a hot day and maybe she would have a few words of wisdom to offer her old friend.

She saw him ride in.  She raised a hand in greeting and beckoned him into the cool of the house.  “Murdoch!  What a lovely surprise.  I thought you’d be at the cattlemen’s meeting.  Come and sit yourself down and I’ll get you a nice cold drink.”

“And I’ll be very grateful, Aggie!  It’s as hot as Hades out there and not a breath of wind.  God knows, we need some rain.”

She smiled, handing him the glass.  “So, Murdoch, are you going to tell me why you’re not at the meeting and why you’ve ridden out here on such a hot day?  I know you too well, Murdoch Lancer, there has to be a reason.”

He gave her a rueful smile.  “That easy to read am I?  To tell the truth I was at the meeting, but I left.  And I knew if I went straight home the boys would want to know why I was back so soon.”

“And you didn’t want to tell them?”

He shook his head.  “No.  Not till I’ve thought things through.”

“Would I be right in thinking that this has something to do with Johnny?”

He looked at her sharply.  What the hell had she heard?  And if she’d known of the Association’s plans, why didn’t she warn him? 

She laughed.  “Don’t look so suspicious, Murdoch.  I’m not privy to the inner sanctum of the Association, but I guess from your reaction that I’m on target.”

Murdoch sighed.  “Sorry, Aggie, but yes, you are of course right.”  He quickly described what had happened at the meeting and then sat back waiting for her response.

She shook her head slowly.  “The trouble is, how I can offer an opinion when I haven’t even met Johnny?  On the one occasion when I came over to meet him, he was conspicuous by his absence.” 

Murdoch cut in.  “I did explain why he wasn’t there...”

She laughed.  “Murdoch, you didn’t really believe that I fell for your story about him being out with a work party!  It was obvious to me that he was avoiding me and I have to wonder why.  But I  can’t judge whether people are over reacting to his presence when I haven’t met him.  I certainly hear enough about him, the people in town are constantly discussing him.  It seems his every movement is monitored by them and if what I hear about him is correct, he’s not exactly doing himself any favours.  Can’t you talk to him, ask him to be more friendly?  And while you’re at it, suggest he spends less time in the bordello.  It’s behaviour like that which doesn’t sit well with the people of Green River.”

“I can’t tell him how to spend his spare time, Aggie, he’s a grown man not a child.”

“He’s living under your roof, therefore you can lay down some ground rules.”

Murdoch shuffled uncomfortably.  “We already did.”

“So?  What were they?  What are you afraid of?  Are you afraid of him?”

Murdoch stared at the floor, then shook his head slowly.  “No, I’m not afraid of him, or at least not any longer, but I am afraid he’ll leave if I push things.  He more or less told me he would.  Our agreement is that he works hard on the ranch but I don’t tell him how to spend his spare time.  Apparently that condition is non-negotiable.”

“Well, it seems you’ve backed yourself into a corner.  I really don’t know how to advise you.  But you’ll have to tell him and Scott about the cattlemen’s decision, they’re your partners and have a right to know.  I always thought you were rather rash offering them equal shares, it wasn’t at all in character.   You’re normally far too canny to do anything so reckless.”  She looked at him thoughtfully. “I would like to meet Johnny.  Form my own opinion.  Perhaps I should pay you an unexpected visit.  If he doesn’t know I’m coming, he won’t have the chance to perform a disappearing act.”

“My God, but you’re devious, Aggie!  Still, I do want you to meet him so perhaps that would be a good idea.  You’ll have to think of some pretence for dropping in.  Make it a mealtime.  That’s always a good time, Johnny rarely misses out on food!  He seems to have a very healthy appetite.”

Aggie narrowed her eyes, before adding primly, “And not only for food if what I hear is correct.”

Murdoch spluttered on his lemonade, felt the liquid going up his nostrils.  “Aggie!”  He coughed again as the lemonade caught his throat. 

She laughed.  “Ah, it’s good to know I can still shock you, Murdoch!  Anyway, I will pay you an unexpected visit over the next few days so that I can form my own opinion of the scourge of the valley.  The way people have been describing him, I have visions of a real cutthroat wearing a vast sombrero with a knife clenched between his teeth and firing off his gun at everyone.  I daresay I will be disappointed.  Reality rarely lives up to our expectations.”

He had to laugh.  “Aggie, you’re always good for me.  Thank you.  I suppose I had better go and face the cutthroat and his Brahmin brother!”  Still laughing, he gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading back into the blistering heat.

 

Part Two

He breathed a sigh of relief when he made it home without being spotted by either of the two boys.  It would give him some breathing space to decide how to tell them about the meeting.  He suspected that Johnny would be far from impressed when he heard about it.  And Scott could be hot tempered at times.  Hell, they were all hot tempered.  The only calm person in the family was Teresa and he supposed that as she wasn’t really family, she didn’t count.  Poor Teresa, she did have a lot to put up with.  Three grumpy men.  Family.  But not family.  Because, more often than not, it was all too apparent that they were just strangers to each other, bound only by blood.

Still, in time they would become used to each other, always supposing Johnny stayed.  He still couldn’t believe that his younger son would stay for long.  He could see how quickly Johnny became bored by the more mundane work on the ranch.  Sometimes Johnny’s pent up frustration would bubble over and the two of them would end up having words over some inconsequential thing – certainly never anything worth fighting over.  Murdoch had spent many sleepless nights worrying over what would become of Johnny if he didn’t stay at the ranch.  And in all his imaginings, there seemed to be only one alternative for the boy, a bloody and pointless death in a hail of bullets.

Murdoch sighed as he unsaddled his horse.  This latest development could only bode ill for the family.  All he could do was hope that it wouldn’t be the last straw for his impatient and unruly son.  Damn Cattlemen’s Association.  After all he’d done for them over the years and the risks his two boys had taken to rid the valley of Pardee, this was how the Association repaid them.  Well, damn the association.  Lancer didn’t need it.  Lancer would manage without it for the association needed Lancer more than his ranch needed the association.  Damn them all to hell.

But despite his bravado, it was with some trepidation that he outlined the events of the meeting to the boys after dinner that evening.  He had delayed the news as long as possible, hoping that they would be more mellow and receptive after a good meal.  And he had parried Scott’s questions about the meeting, saying they would discuss it after dinner.  Now he waited nervously for their reactions.  But he was surprised when his younger son made no response.  Instead, Johnny sat hunched staring into the bottom of his glass of tequila.  His face gave nothing away.  God only knew what he was thinking.

Scott stood in front of the fireplace, swirling the Scotch around in his glass.  He got straight to the point.  “So, how much is this going to cost us if we have to pay for protection when moving funds, without sharing the overheads?”

Murdoch shrugged.  “It depends on the amount of money we shift.  The greater the amount, the more protection we’ll need.  It could cost up to ten per cent of our profits.  It’s a hefty amount but we will have to carry the cost and hope that eventually the Cattlemen’s Association tires of the extra costs and asks us back in.  Some of the smaller ranchers can ill afford extra costs at the moment, so maybe it won’t take long for them to come to their senses.”

Johnny looked up.  “And what if they don’t?  What if they carry on like this for years?”

Murdoch met his son’s eyes.  “Then we carry the cost.  We’ll survive.  It just sticks in my craw that they’re behaving like this.”

Johnny stared into the bottom of his glass again.  “It ain’t right that you and Scott should be out of pocket because of me.  You should make up the difference out of my cut.”

“Johnny, we’re partners.  Equal partners.  We’re in this together.  And there is no question of Scott or me taking anything from your share.  We stand together as partners and as family.”

He thought for a minute that Johnny wasn’t going to reply.  The boy still seemed intent on studying the contents of his glass.  Then, without looking up, Johnny muttered, “Maybe it would be best if I leave.  I said I’d bring you trouble and I have.  You think I don’t know that there are already people who won’t do business with us, because of me?  Times are already hard and the ranch doesn’t need the extra expense.  And let’s face it, this is my fault.”

Scott shook his head.  “Sorry, Johnny, but you’re not escaping that easily!  I’m voting with Murdoch and we outnumber you.  We’re equal partners and you’re staying right here, brother.  Hell, I’d have to work even harder if you left.”

Johnny flashed Scott a brief smile, but shook his head.  “I dunno.  This is my fault.  If I wasn’t here everything would be fine and none of this would have happened.”

Murdoch sighed.  It sometimes seemed that Johnny held himself responsible for the entire woes of the world.  “Son, if you weren’t here everything wouldn’t be fine.  It would be anything but.  And, whether you believe this or not, I would far rather have you here than be kowtowing to the damn cattlemen’s prejudices.  This is where you belong, Johnny, and if some of the neighbours don’t like that, well, quite frankly, they can go to hell.”

Johnny’s head jerked up in surprise and Murdoch saw a brief flash of relief in the boy’s eyes.  And gratitude?

“And I second that,” said Scott with a grin.  “It also gives us a wonderful excuse not to have the party that Teresa is constantly nagging us to hold.  After all, most of our neighbours are very dull company.”

Johnny gave Scott a brief grin.  “And we’re not?” 

Scott laughed.  “Johnny, I think I can honestly say that I have never met anybody remotely like you and you are far from dull!  Still, we will have to plan a campaign of revenge.  If the Cattlemen’s Association wants to make life more difficult for us, I think we should think of ways of making their lives more difficult.”

Murdoch held his hand up, shaking his head.  “No.  We’re not looking for a fight.  In fact, I think we should just keep our heads down...”

“You mean just roll over and let them walk all over us?”  Scott’s tone was scathing.

“No, that’s not what I mean.  But I think we should act with dignity and not lower ourselves to their level.  And Johnny, I think you should stay well away from any of the boundaries with the neighbouring ranches.  John Dove thinks they’re really out to get you and I don’t want you to end up with a bullet in the back.”

“Surely they wouldn’t do something like that?  Is that what life in the west is really like?”  Scott sounded horrified.

Johnny gave a short laugh.  “I told you before, Boston, you got to do it to them before they do it to you.  Still,” Johnny paused and gave a chilling smile, “I’d like to see them try and take me out.  Make a clean fight of it.”

“Johnny, a bullet in the back is not a clean fight.”  Murdoch shook his head in exasperation.  “Neither of you seems to be taking this seriously.  They mean business and that is precisely why we won’t give them any cause to come after us.”  He paused, wondering how to phrase his next remark.  He didn’t think it would be well received.  “I think it would be for the best, Johnny, if you don’t go into town for a while.  It just seems to stir people up.”

Johnny stared at him.  “Nobody tells me what I can or can’t do.  And if the people don’t like me going into town, that’s their problem.  I’m not going to sit here on my Saturday nights just because a bunch of folk don’t like me riding in.”

Murdoch tried again.  “It doesn’t help that you spend so much time in the bordello.  People talk.  They say you’re always in there...”

Johnny raised an eyebrow.  “Well, I got healthy appetites you know.”

Murdoch gave an exasperated sigh.  “You’re getting a reputation...”

“Dios!”  Johnny ran his hand through his hair in irritation.  “I already got me a reputation in case you didn’t realise it.  You don’t get it, do you?  It doesn’t matter what I do, folk will talk.  That’s how it is.  And I seem to remember warning you that’s how it would be.  And let’s face it.  Me and a saloon on a Saturday night with a bunch of drunken cowhands would lead to trouble.  Believe me, I know how once they’ve had a drink or two, they all think they can take Madrid.  Then the people would have something to complain about if we had shoot outs in the saloon every Saturday night.  I ain’t doing anyone any harm.  I ain’t causing anyone any trouble and it’s far better that I go and have a drink in the bordello than in any town saloon.  And there’s nobody who’s going to tell me I can’t.  Including you.  And in case you’ve forgotten, old man, we got a deal.  My time off’s my own and that’s how it’s staying.” 

Johnny’s fists were clenched tightly by his sides but Murdoch could see him trembling with barely repressed anger.   Murdoch counted briefly to ten in his head feeling it would be prudent not to lose his temper.  One unruly person in the room was more than enough.  “Johnny, I haven’t forgotten our deal.  But I am concerned about your welfare and I was simply suggesting that you avoided town until things have calmed down.  That’s all I was doing.  Even my friend Aggie, who rarely ventures into Green River, has heard the gossip.”  He could have kicked himself.  He hadn’t intended to mention Aggie for fear that her “surprise” visit would be interpreted by Johnny as something she had planned with Murdoch in an effort to meet his elusive son.  Still, Johnny probably wouldn’t give Aggie a second thought.

Johnny looked singularly unimpressed by his father’s words.  “A deal’s a deal.  And if I want to go into town I will.  Ain’t nobody going to stop me.  And if all the old biddies want to gossip about me, well, let them.  Give ’em something to think about instead of jam making and coffee mornings.  Probably just jealous that the girls in the bordello have the pleasure of my company and they don’t.”

Scott gave a barely repressed snort of laughter.   Murdoch glared at him.  “This is not a matter for levity, Scott.  This situation lost its entertainment value when the Association started costing us money.”

“I offered to leave, didn’t I?” snapped Johnny. 

Murdoch shut his eyes briefly, and offered up a silent prayer for patience.  “You did indeed, Johnny.  And I have made it very clear that I don’t want you to leave, neither does Scott.  All I am saying is that discretion is the better part of valour.”

Johnny stared at him, looking puzzled.  “What the hell does that mean?”

Scott grinned at him.  “It means, brother, that sometimes keeping a low profile gives you an edge and you come out the winner.”

Johnny gave a dismissive grunt.  “Well, why the hell doesn’t he say that?”

Scott grinned at him again.  “Well, we’re determined to increase your vocabulary so that you’re less inclined to use some of your more colourful expressions.”

Murdoch bit back a laugh.  It was good to see his sons getting along so well and it amused him that Scott seemed to be able to get away with saying anything to Johnny without getting his head bitten off.

“There ain’t nothing wrong with my colourful expressions,” said Johnny loftily.  “I don’t use ’em around Teresa, so it don’t matter.”

“Boys, can we get back to the matter in hand?  I suggest we start thinking about what economies we can make at the ranch to help us ride out the storm.  The accounts had better be brought right up to date so that we can go through them this week.  Johnny, as you seem to hold yourself responsible for our situation, you can do the books.”

There was another muffled snort of laughter from Scott.  Johnny glared at them both.  “I don’t feel that responsible...  Anyway, you always complain that I make a mess of the books, that there’s ink spots everywhere, so it would be much better if one of you two did them.”

Murdoch narrowed his eyes and looked his son square in the face.  “Oddly enough, Johnny, I wasn’t born yesterday.  And I know damn well that you sit there shaking the pen so that you can make as much mess as possible in the vague hope that I’ll stop asking you to do them.  It won’t work.  You’d find it would be a much quicker job if you just got on with them.”  Murdoch stood up.  “And on that note, I’m off to bed.  Goodnight.”

As he left the room he heard an explosion of laughter from Scott, and the words, “I think your ruse has failed, little brother.”

Murdoch smiled as he headed up the stairs.  The neighbours might not like Johnny, but at least on evenings like this he allowed himself the hope that they would meld together as a family given time and have a future.  Unless the damn Cattlemen’s Association put them out of business first.

 

Part Three

Aggie Conway watched Murdoch ride away before pouring herself another glass of lemonade and  sitting down in her late husband’s favourite chair.  She always felt that it was a comforting place to sit when she had any serious thinking to do.  And the truth was, she was worried about her old friend.  Ever since she’d heard that Murdoch’s long lost son was Johnny Madrid, she’d been worried.  And even more worried when she heard that he’d come back to live at his father’s ranch.  There couldn’t be anyone in the state who hadn’t heard of Madrid or who didn’t feel a pang of fear at the mention of his name.

She and Henry had settled in the valley shortly after the death of Murdoch’s first wife.  They’d seen him at his lowest, grieving and seemingly inconsolable, and had tried their best to offer what comfort they could.  Aggie had frequently invited him for dinner or weekends and he’d even spent one Christmas with them.  But then it had all changed.  Murdoch had suddenly arrived back from a trip with a new wife in tow.   Aggie’s lip curled as she thought about Maria Lancer.  She had tried to like her, really tried.  But Maria Lancer was not a woman’s woman.  Even now, all these years later, Aggie felt angry when she thought of Maria.  The woman, or girl, for that’s really all she had been, had seemed totally shameless.  She’d flirted outrageously with Murdoch’s male friends and they’d all loved it.  Even Henry.  She set the glass down violently on the table next to her, spilling the lemonade.  God, she’d hated Maria.  Really hated her, if she was honest.

Now she cast her mind back, remembering Maria’s beauty.  She’d had wonderfully silky dark hair that all the women had envied, and dark flashing eyes and a very voluptuous figure.  Aggie ground her teeth as she remembered how Henry had always been eyeing Maria up, and how his hands had lingered on her shoulders a fraction too long when he greeted her with a kiss.  Her only consolation had been that all the other local husbands had been equally guilty of that crime.   The baby had arrived remarkably soon after the wedding, less than nine months, and the local female community had enjoyed rebuffing Maria Lancer’s claims that it was a honeymoon baby.  It was all too obvious to everyone that Murdoch Lancer had done “the decent thing” by marrying her.  More’s the pity, thought Aggie, somewhat sourly.

The local women had all hoped that the arrival of the baby would calm the young bride down.  Make her less likely to flirt with their husbands, but it had been a vain hope.  Nothing, it seemed, could keep Maria in her place.  Least of all her husband.  And so, when Maria had run off, which came as no surprise to anyone other than Murdoch, all the women had breathed a sigh of relief and hoped that was the last they would ever hear of the woman.

Aggie sighed sadly, as she remembered Murdoch’s grief at the disappearance of his new bride and their young son.  For although she had felt that Maria was no great loss, the young child had been an enchanting little boy with a smile to melt the sternest matron’s heart.  But Aggie had always wondered what would become of the child when he was saddled with Maria for a mother and without his father’s influence.  Well, it seemed her fears had been well founded and although shocked when she had heard what Murdoch’s son had become, she wasn’t surprised that the boy had turned out bad.   No, not surprised at all.

But she was puzzled at Murdoch’s apparent readiness to have the boy back, never mind making him a partner in the ranch.  She wondered about that.  Murdoch was a good, law abiding man who she greatly admired but it seemed that he had thrown caution to the winds and taken this wild desperado under his roof.  The very thought of Madrid living in that beautiful house made her blood boil.  She had long harboured hopes of eventually becoming the third Mrs Lancer, of being the wife that she felt Murdoch deserved and mistress of his home.  But now, with the arrival of his two sons, Murdoch had less time for her and she feared that she had missed her opportunity.

She had enjoyed meeting Scott.  He was good mannered, charming company and, all things considered, a welcome addition to the neighbourhood.  She had also felt that he wouldn’t have been a barrier to an eventual union between herself and Murdoch.  No, the trouble lay with Scott’s elusive younger brother.  And he was already causing trouble for his father.  She appreciated only too well how the latest development with the Cattlemen’s Association could affect the profitability of Murdoch’s ranch.  But she couldn’t blame the Association for being wary of Johnny Madrid.  Certainly no one in town seemed to have a good word to say for him.  She wished she could meet him, form her own opinion, because surely the boy must have some redeeming qualities if Murdoch was prepared to let him stay.  All she heard was the gossip.  The local women had told her how when he rode into town he was always wearing his gun.  They relished recounting that he spent all his spare time in the bordello and expressed great shock that he had apparently gone straight to the bordello after a gunfight and had reputedly spent the night with several women.  That had certainly caused the tongues to wag and given rise to much speculation at the sewing circle as to what he could have been doing with several women...

She could only presume that the boy took after his mother.  That he was as wild and ill disciplined as Maria had been.  Well, time would tell.  But in the meantime she wanted to meet him and judging from his previous disappearing act, her visit would have to go unannounced.  Tomorrow, she decided.  Tomorrow would do very nicely.  And then she could finally meet the infamous Johnny Madrid.

She set off the next day, intending to arrive at the ranch late afternoon – so that she would be invited to dinner and probably to stay the night.  That should provide ample opportunity to study Johnny Madrid at close quarters.

She wasn’t far from the ranch when the buggy jolted over a particularly uneven bit of ground and one of the wheels dislodged from the axle, throwing her violently to one side.  She just managed to stop herself falling onto the stony ground, muttering a few curses as she made a grab at the side panel.

“Damn.”  She stood, now surveying the wheel which lay, still spinning, on its side.  It was another swelteringly hot day, and the prospect of walking the rest of the way to the Lancer ranch was not a pleasing one.  She stooped to lift the wheel but knew that she wasn’t strong enough to lift it back to its axle.  “Double damn!”  She kicked the wheel angrily just as she became aware of the sensation that she was being watched.

She spun round and saw a cowboy sitting watching her.  There was a curious stillness about the way he sat on his horse which unnerved her.  He tipped his hat to her.  “Ma’am, looks like you got a bit of trouble.”  He was softly spoken with a slight drawl, and although his words were polite she felt a pang of fear.  She was out here alone and there was something about him....  She couldn’t put her finger on it, but an air of... menace?

He slid gracefully from his horse and walked towards her.  “I’m. . .  I’m Mrs. Conway.”  She knew she sounded nervous. “I’m on my way to visit my old friend, Murdoch Lancer.  Are you from Lancer?”

The cowboy looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes.  “That’s right, Ma’am, from Lancer.”

She watched as he stooped to lift the wheel.  “I’ll get it back on the axle for you, Ma’am.  They expecting you at Lancer?”

The question made her feel more nervous.  Why should he care if she was expected, unless...?  “Yes.  Yes, they are.  I told your boss I would be coming by.”

The cowboy looked at her, a slight smile seeming to play around his lips.  “Is that so, Ma’am?”  He bent to his task, putting a shoulder against the buggy as he strained to lift it from the ground.  He was obviously strong.  And very masculine.  She could see the muscles straining through the fabric of his shirt as he manoeuvred the buggy into a better position.

“Your boss is an old friend of mine.  You’re a fortunate young man to have a job with such a good employer.”  She knew she must sound foolish, but she had to say something, trying to cover her nerves.  She thought she heard him give a small laugh at her comment, but maybe she was mistaken.  “I don’t believe I have seen you at Lancer, perhaps you haven’t been there long?”

“No, Ma’am, not long.”

“I knew that my old friend has had to take on a lot of new hands recently.  He lost a lot as result of trouble in this valley.  I know that he has always employed a lot of you people.”

The cowboy looked up at that.  “You people?” 

She felt herself flushing.  “Well, Mexicans and such like.”

“Ah, Mexicans and such like.”  His voice was still soft but there was something in his attitude that seemed slightly insolent.  Really, Aggie, she said to herself, you’re being ridiculous.  He’s being very helpful and has been nothing if not polite.

“I have a ranch of my own.  A little way from here, perhaps you have heard of it?”

He continued to push against the wheel before speaking.  She could hear her heart beating.  Why did he make her so nervous? 

“Yes, Ma’am, I believe I’ve heard tell of it.”  She had to strain to catch the soft drawl when he spoke. 

“It’s lucky you came along.  Mr. Lancer will worry if I’m late.  He’d send someone to look for me.”

The cowboy looked at her through narrowed eyes, and again a smile seemed to hover around his lips, as if he guessed that she was nervous of him and trying to create the impression that people would be searching for her if any harm should befall her.

She tried not to breathe an audible sigh of relief as he finally secured the wheel. 

“That should be fine now, Ma’am.  But it might be an idea to have one of Mr Lancer’s other fortunate workers to check it for you.”

She knew he was laughing at her.  She fumbled in her purse for a quarter.  She held it out to him.  “For your trouble.  I am very grateful to you.”

The cowboy looked at the coin.  “That ain’t necessary, Ma’am.  Just glad to be of service.”  He tipped his hat and moved over to his horse and swung himself into his saddle.  But he didn’t ride off.  Just sat watching her as she picked up the reins and urged her horse onwards.  She was aware of him watching her until she finally made it over the ridge and she could see Lancer ahead.  She gave a sigh of relief. 

As she drew closer, she could see Murdoch watching the hands bringing in some cattle.  He waved his hand to her as he strode over to help her from the buggy.

“Well, Aggie, you didn’t let the grass grow under your feet did you?  Come on inside, Teresa was making some coffee.”

She followed him into the house, thinking how safe he always made her feel.  Protected.  A good man who didn’t deserve the latest misfortunes to befall his ranch.  What a pity that his younger son had ever returned home.

Aggie took a seat in the cool of the Great Room, thinking what a welcome relief it seemed after being out in the suffocating heat on the long drive over.  She smiled as Murdoch handed her a cup of coffee.  “Thank you, that’s most welcome.  I’m afraid I had a spot of bother on the way here so the journey took far longer than it should have done.”  The door opened and she smiled with pleasure as Scott walked into the room.  “Scott, how nice to see you again.  How are you settling in now?”

“Very well, thank you, Mrs Conway.  I’ll have a cup of that too, Murdoch, if there’s one going spare.” 

Murdoch smiled.  “Plenty going spare.  But Aggie, what do you mean about a spot of bother?  Nothing serious I hope.”

“The wheel came off my buggy but it shook me up slightly.”

Murdoch frowned.  “Thank heavens you’re alright.  Who helped you with the wheel?”

Aggie hesitated.  “One of your hands, I believe.  Or at least he said he was from here.”

“He didn’t introduce himself?  I hope he was courteous, Aggie.”

“Ye..es.” She flushed at her hesitancy, knowing she must sound foolish.  “I mean, yes, he was polite, it was just. . .  Oh, I don’t know, it’s just me being ridiculous.  He was polite, he put the wheel back on and he wouldn’t take any money.  There was just something about him that puzzled me.”

“Well, can you describe this hand?  If he was rude I’ll be having words with him.”

“No, Murdoch, please don’t.  He really wasn’t rude, it’s just me being foolish.  Although I must say, I’m surprised to see you equipping your Mexican hands with such fine horses.”

Murdoch furrowed his brow in puzzlement.  “Fine horses?”

“Well, the young man was riding a very fine palomino.  At first it crossed my mind that perhaps he had stolen it.”

“A palomino?”  Scott’s head jerked up as she spoke, looking amused.  “Could you describe this ranch hand?  What was he wearing?”

“Oh, really Scott, I barely noticed.  Although I did notice his flashy trousers, all decorated with very showy conchos down the legs.”

Murdoch gave an exasperated sigh and banged his cup down as Scott started laughing.  She stared at them both, wondering briefly if they had both taken leave of their senses.

“That wasn’t one of the hands, Aggie.  That was Johnny.  He should have introduced himself.”  Murdoch sounded annoyed. 

“Oh dear, and I told him that I was expected here.  I am sorry, Murdoch.”

Murdoch sighed.  “I don’t suppose he’ll be gracing us with his presence at dinner now. But as to why he didn’t introduce himself, well, I really don’t understand that boy at times.”

Aggie gave an inward shudder as she recalled the things she had said to Johnny Madrid – her comments about Mexicans.  And it wasn’t as if he was even a Mexican, he was a half breed.  Damn.  She would not have endeared herself to him but no wonder he had frightened her.  She must have sensed what a dangerous man he was.  Poor Murdoch.  But she hoped that Johnny Madrid wouldn’t repeat her comments about Mexicans to Murdoch, she wouldn’t want her old friend thinking she was prejudiced. 

Murdoch was pacing up and down the room.  “I’m sorry, Aggie, I really had hoped that you could meet Johnny over dinner, but it seems that our plan has been thwarted.  He’s going to think that I planned this.”

“Are you saying that you and Mrs. Conway had planned this visit so that she could meet Johnny?” 

Aggie flushed again.  Scott didn’t sound very impressed.

Murdoch nodded.  “You know perfectly well, Scott, that Johnny disappeared deliberately last time she came for lunch.  It’s only natural that as an old friend of mine, who knew him as a baby, she would want to meet him.  Particularly in the light of recent developments.”

Scott ran his hand through his hair, apparently exasperated.  “Do you really think that Johnny wouldn’t have guessed if she had just turned up unexpectedly?  Anyway, you can be certain now that he definitely won’t be home for dinner this evening.  You know what he’s like, he likes to do things on his terms and you’ll only have succeeded in annoying him.”  Scott paused and then gave Aggie an apologetic smile.  “Sorry, Mrs Conway, we shouldn’t be having this discussion now.  I don’t mean to cause you any embarrassment.”

“Scott, there’s no need for you to apologise.  The fault is mine, it was a silly plan and it seems to have gone wrong, like all the best laid plans tend to!”

Later, as Aggie stared out of the guest bedroom window, she reflected on the events of the day.  She had made herself seem ridiculous to Johnny Madrid and probably succeeded in alienating him even more.  He hadn’t turned up at the ranch by the time they’d all turned in for the night and she had a suspicion that he wouldn’t be around at breakfast time either.  She’d simply have to leave after breakfast and put the whole debacle down to experience.  Still, at least she had met Johnny, albeit briefly and, if she was honest with herself, she now had an idea of why people felt nervous of him.  It wasn’t fanciful, she told herself, he really did seem rather dangerous and she couldn’t see him ever being welcomed in the valley.  No, he was definitely not a welcome addition to the neighbourhood.

 

Part Four

Johnny sat on Barranca watching as Mrs. Conway disappeared over the ridge, obviously in a hurry to get to the ranch as quickly as possible.  He grinned to himself, satisfied that he had ruined what appeared to be a plan to have surprised him with an unexpected visit.  He had no desire to meet her.  His mother had told him frequently of how all of Murdoch’s friends had looked down on her when she had first arrived at Lancer.  And his mother had been particularly scathing of a certain Mrs. Conway, accusing her of hating Mexicans in general and Maria in particular. 

And although Mama had usually been drunk when she told him the stories, having met Mrs. Conway, he figured there was probably a grain of truth in his mother’s accusations.  “You people.”  He gritted his teeth as he thought of the words Mrs. Conway had used.  Still, he’d heard far worse than that over the years, but even so...

But now it seemed that he had an evening to fill, because he sure as hell wasn’t going home for dinner.  He grinned.  Looked like the girls in Green River could have an unexpected weekday visit from him.  Seemed Mrs Conway had done him a favour after all.  

He turned Barranca towards town.  He knew the old man would be mad at him for not telling Aggie Conway who he was.  Maybe the old man  would’ve calmed down by tomorrow.  Probably best to keep out of his way.  And he sure didn’t fancy an evening listening to Mrs. Conway sucking up to Murdoch and Scott. He knew there was gossip about her and his father.  He’d overheard some of the hands talking about how much bigger the ranch would be if the two of them married.   Well, fuck that.  And he sure as hell wasn’t going out of his way to be friendly to some woman who’d treated Mama like dirt.  “You people.”  Surprised she didn’t say Mexicans and half breeds – but she’d sure been thinking it.  He’d seen it in her eyes.

Green River was quiet when he rode in.  He was aware of a few people staring out at him from behind the drapes at their windows.  Seemed like folk here hadn’t got enough to keep ’em busy if all they could do was gawk and gossip about him.  It was almost tempting to do something to really shock them, but he figured that the old man would be pissed off with him if he did that, and it didn’t seem worth the fight.  Because although they were getting along better than in the past, it still felt like he had to watch every word.  The old man was sure good at getting riled and it seemed he got riled with Johnny a hell of a lot more often than with old Boston.  He wondered if his father realised how hard he was trying to change.  ’Cos he was trying but he found ranching so fucking boring.  Felt like his head was going to explode and at times like that he just had to get away.  Just ride off and he knew that was one of the things that riled the old man. 

And this latest stunt of the Cattlemen’s Association didn’t help.  Not that he was surprised.  No, not surprised at all.  Folk were pretty much shit whichever way you looked at ’em.  Quick enough to hire him when they wanted his gun but then wouldn’t give him the time of day after he’d done their dirty work.  It was kinda surprising that the old man didn’t want Johnny riding shotgun on the shipments.  But  maybe his father figured that would cause more trouble than it was worth.  Or just wanted him where he could keep an eye on him and make sure he was pulling his weight.

But he’d warned the old man to expect trouble once the locals  knew Madrid was staying put.  Still, at least the old man had said again that he wanted Johnny to stay, even managed to sound as if he meant it.  Yeah, it’d sounded real good when he’d said about how they’d stand as a family and how he’d rather have Johnny there than go kowtowing to his neighbours.  Really sounded like he meant it.  For the time being.  But Johnny still didn’t believe it would last.  In his experience, nothing ever lasted and in the end people just let you down.  Just a matter of time.  Shit, Madrid, quit thinking like that.  What was that fancy word old Boston used?  Positive?  Yeah, that was it, think positive. 

Well right now he figured that the most positive thing to think about was Sadie and her friends so he rode to the livery stable and arranged for Barranca to spend the night in a cosy stall.  Seemed only fair as he was sure as hell going to spend the night in some girl’s cosy bed.

He paused momentarily at the doors of the bordello, scanning the room.  But all was quiet apart from the girls who all started chattering when they caught sight of him.  He grinned.  Yeah, Mrs. Conway had done him a favour after all.

As the girls crowded round him he spotted Delice coming out of her office at the back.  He grinned across, tipping his hat to her but instead of looking pleased to see him, she just raised an eyebrow and shooed all the girls away.

“Delice.  Surprise.”  He smiled, hoping she would catch his sudden good mood.   She didn’t seem to get the idea though.  Instead of welcoming him she just folded her arms and tilted her head to one side. 

“And what mission of mischief brings you into town midweek, Johnny?”

“Just thought I’d pay you all a visit.”  He grinned again.  She didn’t.  Maybe she wasn’t buying into this.

She narrowed her eyes, and pulled up a chair next to him as he sat down at his usual table.  She put a bottle of tequila and a glass down in front of him.

“Just thought you’d pay us a visit.  In the middle of the week?”

“That’s right.”  His smile faltered.  Why should she be bothered by his coming in midweek?  Didn’t make no sense.

“Strange.”  Her voice was soft.  “I thought you had an agreement with your father that you worked hard all week and only weekends were town time.”

“I don’t need his permission for anything.”  Dios.  Wasn’t none of her business anyway.

Her lips twitched, like she was amused by his outburst.  “I didn’t say that you did need his permission.  I’m just curious as to why you’re in town midweek when it seems the sort of thing that will just annoy him and spark another row between the two of you.”

“What’s it to do with you anyway?”  He knew he sounded angry, but hell, it wasn’t her business.  But she still didn’t look too bothered by his words.

“Oh, nothing, honey, nothing to do with me at all.  But it would be kind of a shame to have yet another row with him when I got the impression that things had been going better recently.  So, why the sudden visit to town?”

Her voice kinda had a steely edge to it, like she wasn’t going to give up on this line of questioning.  Shit, why did she always think she knew what was best for him?

He sighed.  Tried to look her square in the eyes but dropped his gaze again.  “Just trying to avoid someone, that’s all.”

“Who?”

“Oh some woman who owns a ranch, Mrs. Aggie Conway.  She seems mighty keen to meet me and was planning a surprise visit ‘cos last time she came I avoided her.”

“How did you find out she was planning a visit?”  Delice sounded real curious now.

So he told her how he’d come across Mrs. Conway stranded with her buggy and fixed the wheel.

Delice was looking at him now like he was really dumb.  “And you think that not bothering to introduce yourself is going to impress your father?” 

Johnny glared at her.  “No.  I know it’s going to piss him off, but I don’t want to spend an evening with her.”

“What have you got against her?”

“You mean besides the fact that she hates Mexicans and half breeds?  My mother told me about Mrs. Conway.  Let’s just say I don’t want to meet the woman.”

Delice nodded her head slowly.  “I take your point, if in fact she does hate Mexicans.  But if your father likes her and values her friendship she might not be all bad.  Presumably your mother must have been very young when she met her, perhaps they just didn’t get along.  People don’t always get along and often it’s nothing to do with the colour of their skin, just differences in personality.”

Johnny shrugged.  “I dunno, but I saw it in her eyes when I fixed her wheel.  She don’t like Mexicans.”

Delice smothered a laugh.  “Maybe you just made her nervous.  Out there all alone and a stranger comes along.  And you do have a very wild look in your eye.”

Johnny started laughing.  He guessed that was why he liked Delice.  She didn’t let him take himself too seriously and usually knew how to make him laugh. 

“Anyway, honey, from what I hear you’ve got more serious things to worry about than Mrs. Conway.  The Cattlemen’s Association for example.”

Johnny stared at her.  “How the hell d’you know about that.  I mean do you know everything that goes on in these parts?  I mean, I don’t see you or the girls out and about in town.  How come you always know everything?”

For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to answer but then she gave a slight smile.  A kinda sad smile he thought.

“Well, honey, me and my girls might live behind these walls not mixing with the town folk, but it doesn’t mean we don’t watch and listen to what goes on.  Not much gets past us in this town.”  She paused and then added,  “We’re like children with our noses up against the windows of the sweetshop, wishing we could go inside.”

Johnny looked at her.   She was studying her hands now.  He felt a lump in his throat suddenly.  He spoke softly.  “Hell, Delice, we both know that most people are shit.  Just like the sweets are bad for us, well, seems to me that most folk are too.  There ain’t many worth knowing, that’s for sure.”

She smiled at that.  “What a wonderful cynic you are, Johnny, even more of a cynic than me.”

He wondered what the hell she was talking about but it seemed like she was more cheerful again.  “Tell you one thing, those cattlemen are making life damn awkward for us.  And it’s all my fault.”

Delice gave an exasperated sigh.  “For heaven’s sake, why do you always have to assume that everything is your fault?  This isn’t your fault.  You’ve given them no cause to act like that.  You have helped save the valley from Day Pardee, the smaller ranchers have had their ranches restored to them and they owe you gratitude.”

Johnny shrugged.  “Yeah, well, maybe it would’ve been better if I’d left then.  Just taken my money and got the hell out.  Kinda quit when I was ahead.  Now there’s some people won’t do business with us and we got the Cattlemen being damned awkward and they’re a mighty powerful bunch of men.”

“More powerful than Lancer?”  Delice had raised an eyebrow in a kind of questioning way and was looking at him real hard.

“Well, Lancer might be the biggest ranch but at the moment it feels like it’s us against the world.  I offered to leave.”

Delice gave him a real sharp look.  “And what did your father say to that?”

Johnny grinned.  “It was real strange, but he said he wanted me to stay.  Said it like he meant it too.  Said he’d rather have me here than be kowtowing to all those folk.  Said we’d face it together.”

She smiled at that.  Her eyes looked a lot softer.  “So?”  She sounded real gentle.  “That should surely tell you something, honey.  When you go back tomorrow, just remember he’s trying.  Don’t go losing your temper.  Try and remember you’re on the same side.”

Johnny sighed.  “Yeah, I guess.  But shit, sometimes I just feel like I ain’t never going to fit in.  It’s like everything’s closing in on me and I can’t breathe.  And there’s no end to the work and I get like I just want to get out and ride free.  I mean mending fences or rounding up strays, it’s so boring.  It drives me crazy.  And now I feel kinda trapped.”

She smiled as he spoke, looked amused.  “Well, honey, no one ever said it would be easy for you adapting to such a different life.  But let’s face it, would you want your old one back?”

He thought about it.  Would he want to go back to being a gunfighter?  If he was honest he knew he’d tired of that life long before he came home.  He shook his head slowly.  “No, I guess not.  But I sure as hell miss the freedom. And it’s like my past is right here with me so I haven’t got away from it.  Don’t suppose I ever will.”

“Give it time, honey, just give it time.  Now, which of my girls has caught your wandering eye this evening?”

He grinned.  “Well, I was kinda wondering about that redhead...”

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a real stern look.  “Your brother’s girl?  No, honey, I’ve told you before, that’s most definitely not a good idea.”

“You spoil all my fun.”

Delice laughed.  “Oh, I don’t think you could really accuse me of that.  But if you want Sadie you’ll have to be quick.  One of her regulars always comes in on a Wednesday evening.”

Johnny grinned.  “Yeah, she’s mentioned Otto Fry.  Says he’s got real bad breath.  And he don’t bath too often.”

Delice smothered a laugh.  “I couldn’t possibly comment.  I never discuss my customers.   But, you would be doing her a big favour...  And it would put her in a much better mood tomorrow.  She and Polly have had a major fight and aren’t speaking and she’s going around like a bear with a sore head.”

Johnny grinned.  “So, which poor girl ends up with Otto Fry if Sadie ain’t around?”

Delice pulled a face.  “Damn, I never thought of that.  It would be Polly.  Perhaps my suggestion isn’t such a good one.”

“So come on, give, who’s Otto’s third pick?”

“Scott’s redhead.”

Johnny grinned.  “Well, tell you what I’ll do, seeing as how all your girls love me so much and I’m their favourite customer.”

She interrupted him.  “And what makes you think that?”

“They all tell me that.”

Delice laughed.  “Honey, they’re paid to tell you that.  It’s what they tell all the customers.”

Johnny grinned again.  “Yeah, but in my case they mean it.”

“God, you’re arrogant, Johnny Lancer.  So, do tell, what favour are you going to do for me?”

“I’ll take Sadie and Polly, and I promise that they’ll be friends by the morning.”  He winked at her as he stood up.  He called out to the girls.  “Come on Sadie, before Otto gets here.”  The huge smile that broke out across Sadie’s face made his decision seem worthwhile.  As did the other look on her face, when he grabbed Polly by the hand and pulled her upstairs as well.

He didn’t hurry in the morning.  Figured he’d let Mrs. Conway leave before he headed back to the ranch.  Instead he enjoyed a leisurely cup of coffee while Delice knocked him up some pancakes.  As he left, Delice called out to him.  “Don’t forget what I said, honey.  Play nice when you get home.  You’re on the same side.”

He tipped his hat and headed out to collect Barranca from the livery stables.  Hell, leastways now if he avoided town for a couple of weeks to keep the old man happy, he’d at least had a good night with the girls.  He was half way back to the ranch and still grinning about the previous night’s activities when the crack of a rifle shot echoed across the valley.  And a bullet traced its way across the sleeve of his jacket.

 

Part Five

He threw himself off Barranca and took cover in a ditch by the side of the road, cursing for daydreaming about girls instead of keeping an eye on his surroundings.  Getting soft, Madrid.  But where the fuck had that bullet come from?  Shielding his eyes against the bright light, he scanned the hills opposite and thought maybe, just maybe, he saw the sun glint off something metallic.  He kept his eyes fixed on that spot, hoping that the sun would stay shining.  And then there it was, the telltale glint again.  Leastways he knew where the bushwacker was now.  Keeping very low, he ran into the brushwood behind the ditch.  Wasn’t no one going to shoot him in the back.  He dodged through the trees, knowing he was well screened now. 

Seemed the best thing would be to follow the side of the road up around the far bend and double back to creep up on the fellow from behind.  Whoever he was, he wasn’t a bad shot.  The bullet had almost found its mark.  Almost, but not quite.  And that bastard would be regretting that real soon.  Johnny grinned, Dios, he loved that familiar sensation of the blood pumping through his body.  When it felt like all his nerves were on fire and every sensation seemed stronger than it had ever been before.  He’d missed it recently, longed for it at times, if he was truthful.  And now, thanks to some piece of back shooting shit, the sensation was flooding his body.

He ran between the trees, following the line of the road, and then crouched down as he saw movement on the opposite hillside.  He could see someone now, a man carrying a rifle, clambering down over the loose rocks.  Grabbing occasionally at the ground as he almost lost his balance.  Sure looked in a mighty hurry to get the hell out of there.  The man must have left his horse tethered nearby.  Be kind of a shame not to be by the horse ready and waiting for the man. . .  Johnny grinned.  Yeah.  He’d be sure to welcome the man, all he had to do was find the horse and it had to be close by. 

Moving slowly now, he edged forward to where the trees thinned out.  And there it was, a skinny sorrel mare.  Seemed like this fellow didn’t look after his animals too well.  Another reason for disliking him and they hadn’t even met yet.  Boy, he was looking forward to this meeting.

He crouched down.  He figured the man would be so desperate to get on his horse and away he’d never notice the small shadow at the side of the road which was the only giveaway to Johnny’s presence.  The blood was really pounding round now and Johnny shut his eyes briefly as he relished the buzz.  Dios, he felt good. 

He could hear the sound of the man’s running feet now.  The fellow was panting from having run so far.  He was obviously out of condition.  Johnny smiled.  That would make his job even easier.  He watched as the man ran to his horse, pausing briefly to try and catch his breath while he tried to shove the rifle into its sleeve on the saddle.

“G’ morning.”  Johnny spoke softly and the man whirled round to face him.  He had a weasly sort of face, eyes a touch too close together and a weak mouth.  And he looked very, very frightened as recognition dawned.

“W...what do you want?”  The man was shaking slightly.

Johnny smiled.  “You.”  He motioned with his gun for the man to move away from his horse.

The man looked even paler now and stumbled slightly as he moved a step away from his horse.  “What d’you mean, you want me?”

“Oh, I just don’t like people who try and shoot me in the back.”  Johnny spoke very softly.  He smiled again.  “I don’t like it at all.  Kinda cowardly, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I’m just out to shoot some game.  I was after an elk.  Saw it on the hills opposite where I was.”

“An elk?”  Johnny raised an eyebrow. “An elk, eh?  Well, I have to say no one’s ever tried that one on me before.  Maybe, ’cos I don’t look much like a fucking elk.”  Johnny stepped closer, and grabbing hold of the man, shoved the barrel of his pistol into the man’s throat causing him to gasp.

Johnny smiled again.  “You know, I just get this urge sometimes to kill someone and I got a real urge right now.”

“I didn’t do nothing.  I told you, I was trying to shoot an elk.  Never even saw you.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes.  And pushed the gun harder into the man’s throat.   The fellow was sweating now.  Any minute he’d be pissing himself.  And the urge to just pull the trigger was getting stronger.  And so was the feeling of power.  No one fucked with Madrid.  “You know, I’d be doing everyone a favour if I pull this trigger.  ’Cos I’d lay money that you’ve tried this stunt before and if I let you live you’ll do it again.  Sooner or later.”

The fellow was shaking all over now.  “A man like you’s bound to have made enemies.  It could have been anyone.”

“But you and I both know it wasn’t anyone.  It was you up there with a rifle trying to put a bullet in my back.”

“Madrid, you can’t kill me.  That’d be murder.”

Johnny gave a soft laugh.  “Well, that’s kinda what you were planning for me. But I just turned the tables.  And you know, that makes me feel real good.  It takes more than some lily-livered bit of shit like you to get the better of me.”

He cocked the hammer of the gun, enjoying the strangled gasp of fear that the man made.  “So, any last requests?”

The sound of wheels on the rough road echoed through the valley.  Johnny eased the hammer back into place but kept his gun jammed against the man’s throat.  He whispered in the man’s ear.  “Looks like it’s your lucky day.”

A buggy came round the corner.  Shit.  Aggie Conway.  She reined in her horse, staring at Johnny with a kinda shocked expression.  “What’s going on here?  What are you doing?  Mr. Driscoll are you alright?”

Johnny raised an eyebrow, gave a short laugh.  “Driscoll?  Is that his name?  Well, Ma’am, your friend, Mr. Driscoll, was trying to put a bullet in my back, and you know, I don’t take too kindly to that.”

Mrs. Conway gave a snort.  “Rubbish, Mr. Driscoll is a local rancher, a respected member of this community, he wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

“You calling me a liar, Ma’am?”

Well that sure shut her up.  Briefly.  She flushed a deep red.  “No, all I’m saying is you must be mistaken.”

Driscoll tried to speak but it came out more as a croak.  Maybe ’cos the gun was still jammed in his throat.  “Thank God you came along, Mrs. Conway.  Madrid here was going to kill me...”

“Let him go this minute.”  Boy, she sure looked really riled up. 

Johnny reached into Driscoll’s holster and removed the man’s gun, but he still kept his own gun jammed into Driscoll’s throat.  With his free hand, Johnny emptied Driscoll’s hand gun and then pushed the man roughly to one side.  Then Johnny slowly pulled out Driscoll’s rifle, enjoying the looks of fear on the faces of Driscoll and Mrs. Conway.

“What you doing?”  Driscoll’s voice came out more as a squeak. 

Johnny didn’t answer.  Just took the shells out of the rifle and threw them into the thick undergrowth behind. 

Then he pushed Driscoll towards the skinny mare. He leaned forward to speak softly in the man’s ear.  “Now, Driscoll, just get the fuck outta here.  But I warn you, try anything again and I really will kill you.  That’s not a threat, that’s a promise ’cos I tell you, better men than you have tried to kill me.  It don’t work.  Now, get gone before I change my mind.”

Driscoll clambered onto his horse, clawing for leather, before kicking the horse into a gallop and riding off.

Johnny turned to Mrs Conway.  She had a look on her face which said maybe she didn’t think too much of Madrid.  No surprise there.  He tipped his hat to her.  “Ma’am, have a nice evening at the ranch, did you?”

She glared at him through narrowed eyes.  “Never mind my evening at the ranch.  What were you going to do to Mr. Driscoll if I hadn’t come along when I did?”

“Well, Ma’am, to tell the truth I hadn’t really quite decided...”  He got no further.

“The truth?  I’m surprised you know what that is.”

Johnny kicked at the stones around his feet, gave a slight smile.  “Ma’am, if you ain’t going to believe anything I say, why ask?”

“Because I am hoping to find some redeeming qualities in you.  You have quite a reputation you know.”

Johnny gave a soft laugh.  “Oh I know it.  Now, whether what everyone says about me is true is another matter all together.  Wouldn’t you say so, Ma’am?”

“I really have no idea.  But your father is an old and dear friend of mine.  I knew him long before you were born and it grieves me to see people turning against him because of you.  Not that I’m surprised.  You didn’t even have the courtesy to introduce yourself to me, yesterday.”

Johnny grinned.  “Well, Ma’am, truth to tell, I kinda thought that you’d have figured out who I was.  But, if I may say so, you’re exactly how my mother described you to me.”

That got her.  She looked real taken aback now.  “Your mother mentioned me to you?”

Johnny paused, let her think about that one.  “Oh yes, more than once.  Told me all about how welcoming people were when she first arrived.”

Mrs. Conway looked at him sharply.  “When your mother first arrived here, I, and many of the other local ladies, tried very hard to make her feel at home and help her to adjust to life here.”

“I didn’t say that you didn’t.”  Let her chew on that one.

She didn’t chew for long.  “I really have no idea what your meaning is, but I will tell you that your mother rebuffed many attempts to befriend her.  She didn’t seem very interested in joining the sewing circle or any of the other social groups we have here.”

Johnny bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.  His Mama in a sewing circle.  Boy that would have been worth seeing.  But if she had joined she’d sure have livened things up.  He tried to put the mental picture out of his head and concentrate on what the damn woman was talking about now.

“We tried to teach her how to cook many of our local dishes but she wasn’t interested in that either.”  Mrs. Conway paused.  “But she was a good horsewoman.”  She sure sounded grudging when she said that.

“It gave your mother more to talk to our husbands about than it did the ladies of the community.”

Ah!  Now that had the ring of truth to it.  Wonder what the old hag would say if she knew exactly how much his Mama had preferred the company of men.  But if his Mama had carried on with Mr. Conway, no wonder the widow hadn’t liked her.  Could Mama have been fucking all the local men?  Somehow, he suspected not.  Flirted, more like.  The fucking had come later.  After she’d left Lancer with the mysterious gambler who Teresa had mentioned.  But Mama had probably tried him on for size before she left here.

“Well, Ma’am, fact remains I’m home, and as long as Murdoch wants me here I’m staying put, so the likes of old Driscoll had better get used to it.”

“From what I hear, your presence is already costing your father money.”

“Ma’am, seeing as how my brother and I are equal partners in this ranch, I’d say it was costing us all money.  And really, that ain’t anyone else’s business.  I’d say it’s between my partners and myself.  I’m sure you agree.”

The woman flushed a kinda brick red, looked real flustered.  “Your father was very disappointed that you didn’t return home yesterday evening.”

Johnny gave a short laugh.  “Is that so?  Well, I’m sure if he’s gotta problem with it, he’ll mention it to me.  Now, Ma’am, if you’ll excuse me I’ve got work to do.”  He tipped his hat again and went to retrieve Barranca who was grazing at the side of the road.

Johnny swung himself into the saddle.  “Oh, I almost forgot.  Did you have one of our fortunate workers check that wheel?  Or do you want me to have another look at it?”

She looked taken aback at the question.  “Um, no, one of the hands checked it.  But... thank you for asking.”

Johnny looked her straight in the eyes.  “You see, Ma’am, I do have some redeeming qualities.”  And tipping his hat once more he spurred Barranca into a lope and headed toward the ranch.

He slowed Barranca to a walk as they passed under the Lancer ranch.   It didn’t take no genius to figure that the old man was going to be mad at him about the previous evening.  Maybe he could divert the man by telling him about the back shooting Driscoll.  But the old man weren’t going to be none too happy about that either.  It looked like he wouldn’t be visiting town any time soon.  The old man would sure want him to stay around the ranch until things calmed down.  Fuck.  His whole life was a fucking trap whichever way he played it.  ‘Play nice, you’re on the same side.’  The words echoed round his head along with a mental picture of those searching green eyes.  Play nice.  It was easy for her to say. 

And shit.  There was the old man waiting outside for him.

“Johnny, I want to talk to you inside.  Now, please.”

Fuck.

 

Part Six

He followed Murdoch into the house, his spurs jangling loudly as he walked.  He tried to stop himself from clenching his fists, but fuck it, if the old man wanted to make a song and dance about this then he was more than ready for a battle.  He wasn’t taking orders from no man, including Murdoch Lancer. 

‘Remember you’re on the same side.’  Shit.  Damn woman.  Felt like he couldn’t get her voice out of his head.  How did she do that?  Fucking easy for her to say. 

He tried to take a deep breath.  Calm himself down.  But bushwhackers always put him in a foul temper.  A man couldn’t do anything much lower than that.  He hated cowards.   And bullies.

Scott was in the Great Room.  Kinda like he was waiting for the two of them.  Felt like he was being bushwhacked on all sides today.  But then Scott winked at him and leaned over to whisper,  “Not coming back last night was probably not the smartest thing you’ve ever done.  Just don’t lose your temper.”

Another one who figured he knew what was best for Madrid.  Johnny sighed and turned to look at Murdoch who’d sat down at his desk.  The man was drumming his fingers on the polished wood, kinda like he was trying to make up his mind what to say.

“You got something to say, old man, then say it.”  He regretted his words as soon as they were said.  Why did he do that?  It would only rile the old man even more.  And out of the corner of his eye he saw Scott give a shake of his head, like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. 

The old man just continued to drum his fingers, but now there was a tightness around the man’s mouth.  Shit, why did he always fuck up or put his foot in things?

“Johnny.”  He sounded like he was having a real struggle to stay calm.  “I have to say that I was very disappointed in you yesterday.  Disappointed that you didn’t introduce yourself to Aggie and disappointed that you failed to join us for dinner.  And for the life of me I can’t think why you have to be so rude.  Aggie is an old friend, she knew you as a child and it’s only natural that she wanted to meet you but it seems that you’re going out of your way to avoid her.”

Disappointed.  Dios.  He hated it when the old man said things like that.  Like Madrid could never get anything right.  He’d rather his father just yelled at him.  “I fixed her wheel for her, what more do you want?”

“For you to start behaving like a member of this family, that’s what I want.”  The old man took a deep breath, kinda like to stop himself going off on one. “So why are you avoiding her?”

Johnny shrugged.  “I ain’t some prize stallion to be inspected like one of them horses at those auctions you go to with her.”

The old man was glaring real good now.  “It isn’t a case of inspecting you, she wants to meet you.  Meeting, getting acquainted, it’s what civilised people do.  God knows what she must think of you after your rude behaviour.”

Johnny shrugged again.  “Won’t make no difference what I do, she don’t like Mexicans and she sure as hell don’t like half breeds.”

His father stared at him, his brow furrowed like he was real puzzled.  “What the hell gives you that idea?  And, I hate the term half breed.”

Johnny gave a short laugh.  “You should have thought of that before you fucked my mother, ’cos it’s what I am, ain’t it?”

Scott gave a sorta exasperated sigh and the old man was sure turning a real funny colour now.  Kinda purple.  And he was sorta gritting his teeth.  Didn’t look none too happy.  Probably wasn’t the smartest thing Madrid could have said just then.

“I’m not going to rise to that one, John.”  Shit, he hated it when the old man called him John, probably like he had when Johnny was a little kid.  When he was safe.  Before Mama left.  “Suffice it to say that I never gave it a thought that you would be of mixed race.  And why you think Aggie would think it mattered is beyond me.”

“I saw it in her eyes and my mother told me how much your friend Aggie hated Mexicans.”  He stopped abruptly.  Could have bitten his tongue off.  He hadn’t meant to mention Mama.  Shit.

“Your mother talked to you about Aggie?  Aggie Conway?”  The old man sure sounded puzzled.

No way was he getting into any talk about his mother.  He figured the best thing he could do was try and get the old man’s mind onto something else.  Like bushwhacking.

“Anyway, I saw your friend this morning when I was coming back from town.  She came along just after someone tried to bushwhack me.”

Well, that sure stopped the man in his tracks.  “Someone tried to bushwhack you?  On the road?  You hadn’t strayed onto someone else’s land?”

Johnny narrowed his eyes.  “No.  I had not strayed onto someone else’s land.  I was on the road and I was kinda under the impression that anyone is free to use the road.  Even me.  Anyhow, I was riding along and someone fired a rifle.  Only just missed me, too.”  And he held his arm up so the old man could see where the bullet had traced its way along the sleeve of his jacket.

“Where did this happen?  I mean. . .  On the road, you say?  No one would have...  Maybe you imagined it. . .”  The old man tailed off as he continued to stare at the mark on Johnny’s jacket.

“Well, I could hardly have imagined that, could I?”  Johnny held his arm up again and looked at him in irritation. 

Scott was looking kinda worried.  “Hell, Johnny, that was a close call.  Who on earth would do that to you when you’re riding along minding your own business?”

“Man called Driscoll, that’s who.”

“Driscoll?”  Murdoch was looking real agitated now.  “The rancher?  I’ve known Driscoll for years, he wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes.  “You calling me a liar?”  He spoke real soft, guessing his father would sense the menace behind the question. 

His father gave an exaggerated sort of a sigh.  “No, Johnny, I’m not calling you a liar.  All I’m saying is you must be mistaken, Driscoll’s no bushwhacker.”

Johnny gave a soft laugh.  “Yeah, he is.  Tried to tell me he was shooting at an elk.  Do I look like a fucking elk?  No.  He was out to get me, whether you like it or not. Like all your rancher friends warned you they would.   Anyway, your friend, Aggie, came along just as I was deciding what to do with Driscoll.  Kind of spoiled my fun.”

His father paled.  “What do you mean, spoiled your fun?”

Johnny leaned back against the bookcase.  Stared down at his boots for a second before looking his father square in the eyes.  “Well, I was kinda deciding whether to kill him, before he tries the same game on someone else.”  

Scott muttered something half under his breath, but it kinda sounded like he said shit.  And the old man looked even paler.

“And Aggie came along in the middle of this?”

Johnny grinned.  “Yeah.  She didn’t seem too happy about it.  Anyway, I let the bit of shit go.  Which I’ll probably regret sometime because I tell you, he’ll try it again.  Maybe not on me, but he’ll try it again on someone.  And, for what it’s worth, I’ll lay money it ain’t the first time he’s done it.”

His father was running his hand through his hair, like he was real worried.  “I can’t believe you threatened him.  How could you be so foolish?  There has to be some other explanation for all of this.  He must have been shooting at some game and just didn’t see you.  That must be it.  And now he’s going to go round telling everyone you threatened him which is just going to make this whole situation worse.”

“Seems I should have just shot him.  Would have saved a lot of bother.”

Murdoch glared.  “This is not funny, Johnny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”  Johnny paused, to let his words sink in.  “Anyhow, seems like you prefer to believe his story to mine.  Doesn’t say much about what you think of me, does it?  Maybe you’d rather that I just leave.  Make your life a whole lot simpler and keep all your friends happy.  Make this valley a safer place for decent folk.  Isn’t that what they say?”  Even as he said it, Johnny felt his gut clench.  They always seemed to end up back at this.  He tried to look his father square in the face, but the man’s head was down so Johnny couldn’t read his expression. 

He couldn’t stand the silence.  Or the sight of his father’s bent head, like he was too ashamed of his son to even look at him.  “That it then?  You’d rather I just go?  Fine, I’ll go get my things and be outa here.”  Johnny turned on his heel, feeling sick inside.  It wasn’t meant to go like this.  He always fucked up.  What had Delice said?  On the same side, that was a fucking joke.

He didn’t get to the door before the old man banged his fist down on the table, so hard Johnny was surprised that the desk didn’t split in two.  “We’ve discussed this before.  I told you I don’t want you to leave.”  His father took another deep breath, looked at Johnny. “Hell, this is your home.  You were born here.  You belong here.”  The old man sighed.  “I just want you to try and fit in.  Make more effort.”

Johnny laughed.  “Make more effort?  You got any idea how fucking hard I’m trying?  This ain’t easy but I’m trying and you don’t...  I mean I mend fences, I round up strays, I mend chicken runs, I swill out the pigs, I fix broken gates, and I even do the fucking books but it seems like whatever I do, it’s never enough.”  He ran his hand through his hair.  Maybe it would be better if he just turned and walked out.  Be his own boss again instead of jumping to someone else’s tune.  ’Cos it sure felt like whatever he did was never going to satisfy the old man. 

“Can I suggest that everyone calm down.”  Scott’s voice sounded real calm.  Too calm, maybe.  “Johnny, before you go any further, I think Murdoch has made it perfectly clear that he wants you to stay, so have I.  Murdoch,” he continued, turning toward their father, “siding with Driscoll, whoever he may be, is not showing much belief in your son.  And we can’t deny that someone has taken a shot which could have damn near killed Johnny.  Personally, I feel that if you were shooting at an elk you would be bound to see someone in your sight line.”

“I know Driscoll, known him for years.  He’s a little hot tempered but he’s no bushwhacker.”

“Sir, I think that in this instance you should rely on Johnny’s judgment.  He was there, we weren’t.”

Johnny looked across at Scott and nodded his head in acknowledgment of the support.  Good old Boston, he always seemed to back Johnny.  Probably wouldn’t if he knew what Madrid was really like, but even so, it felt real good at times like this.

“All I’m saying is that I can’t believe Driscoll intended to shoot at Johnny.  I’m not doubting what happened.”

“With all due respect, sir, I think you just don’t want to believe that someone you’ve known for years could behave in such a way.  And Johnny, before you go getting all lathered up, the reason Murdoch was so concerned, and thus so irritable, is because of all the trouble in town last night.”

Johnny stared at Scott.  What the hell was he going on about? 

Scott returned his gaze without flinching.  “I assume, from your bemused expression, that you didn’t know about the trouble.”

“No, Boston, I ain’t got a clue what you’re talking about.  I was tucked up all nice and cosy with two girls last night.”

His father gave another kinda irritated sigh.  Johnny glared at him.  “I can’t help it if I got healthy appetites, you know.”

Scott jumped in real quick at that.  “I think how many girls you had last night is totally irrelevant.  We heard that a group of saddle tramps rode in and were causing a lot of trouble in the saloon.  There was some gun play and they were a nasty bunch by all accounts.”

Johnny shrugged.  “Didn’t hear nothing.  Kind of had my hands full.”  He looked at his father.  “Maybe you’d like a blow by blow account...”

Scott made a real strange noise at that.  Kinda like a snort and a laugh.

Murdoch just glared at them both.  “No, I do not want an account of your activities.  I do want you to stay and become a part of this family.  I happen to care about your future.  But, by the same token, I’d also like to see you make more effort to get along with our friends and neighbours.”

“Aggie Conway ain’t no friend of mine.  And as for your neighbours, well, they don’t seem too welcoming so I don’t see why I should put myself out.”

“Johnny, I don’t know anything about your childhood or how your mother raised you, but making an effort to get along with people, whether we like them or not, is what civilised people do.  It seems a great pity that your mother never taught you that lesson.”

“Leave my mother outta this, old man.  She took care of me.  That’s all you need to fucking know about the past.”  Except she hadn’t taken care of him.  Or protected him.  Or stopped some of her men friends...   Shit.  Don’t go there.  Keep calm, Madrid.  Don’t let him see he’s got you riled.  Dios, his gut was churning.  Blank face.  Keep the mask on.  Never let ’em know when they’ve scored.  Fuck it, Boston, say something.  It’s what you’re good at. 

“Can we all calm down again?”  Good old Boston.  Knows when to step in.  “I think the best thing would be for Johnny and me to go up to the north pastures and check our lines up there.  We’re short of crew to check that section and it would probably be better if things can just calm down around here for a few days, in case Driscoll decides to make trouble.”

“He won’t.”  Johnny kept his voice soft and calm.  Like nothing the old man said could have got to him.  “I tell you, he was out to get me and I think he’d rather let this drop.  I told him what I’d do if he tried anything, and I think he got the message.”

“Well, the fact remains that Mrs. Conway knows what went on and there’s a fair chance that she’ll talk, wouldn’t you think so, Murdoch?”

The man sighed.  “I suspect that Aggie will talk to me first.  I’ll ride over and see her.  Try and smooth things over.  But it would be a good idea if the two of you check those lines.  It’s a job that needs doing and as you say, it’ll allow things to calm down around here.”  He looked straight at Johnny now.  “Always assuming you’re not walking out on us?”

Johnny shrugged.  “I warned you about this, didn’t I?  Sure you really want me to stay?”  Hell, why did he keep asking that?  All it did was give the old man a chance to kick him out.

“You know the answer to that.  The two of you had better go and get some gear together and head straight out.  I’ll deal with things at this end.”

Johnny tried to look at the man.  See if there was any emotion there.  But the man turned away and stared out of the big window behind his desk.  Johnny shrugged again and turned to Scott.  “Come on then, Boston, let’s get going.”  He turned on his heel and walked upstairs, trying to squash the desire to puke up all over the floor.

 

Part Seven

His brother had hardly spoken a word since they’d left the ranch.  Now he was gazing into the distance, seemingly lost in thought.  And the expression on his face certainly didn’t invite questions.  Scott sighed, wishing he could understand what went on in Johnny’s head.  He seemed to keep pushing their father to the breaking point, didn’t seem able to stop himself.  One of these days he would push too far.  And Scott had a feeling that day wasn’t too far off. 

He shivered.  Although it was late August there was a chill in the air.  An ominous bank of clouds was building in the north and he hoped they’d make it to a line shack before nightfall.  He still hadn’t become accustomed to sleeping rough and the thought of spending a night in a bed roll in the open had little appeal if the weather was apt to change.  He’d done enough of that in his army days and when the war had ended he’d made a mental promise to himself to never sleep rough again.  He smiled wryly.  So much for that promise.  But then, he’d never envisaged ending up in California as a rancher.  He’d expected to spend his life poring over accounts and running one of his grandfather’s businesses.  But nothing could induce him to return to that life.  He found he relished the hard work of the ranch and although he was still very much a greenhorn, he enjoyed the challenge of mastering all aspects of life on Lancer.  He still found the west incredibly uncivilised but he revelled in the beauty and wildness of the region.  He just wished that Johnny could settle.  Life had dealt his brother a poor hand but despite all the disadvantages he’d clawed his way up from the bottom, but at what cost?

Scott still found it hard to believe that he had a brother who made his living with a gun.  Killing for money.  He couldn’t in his wildest imaginings think what could have been so bad that Johnny was driven to choose his life.  Because, if he was certain of one thing, Scott was certain that Johnny had made his decision about his future at a very tender age.  By Johnny’s own admission he had started practising before he was ten years old.  Scott shuddered, thinking how different Johnny’s life had been in contrast to his own life of comfort and privilege.  If he was honest, it made him feel guilty.  He’d had so much, every luxury money could buy whilst Johnny had nothing.  Even now when Johnny ate, Scott could see the hunger.  The way his brother hunched over his food, almost as though he expected it to be taken from him.  Johnny had been fighting for survival while Scott had enjoyed picnics and parties.

He tried to shake himself out of his introspection.  Maybe a few days with his brother would lead to some more revelations about his past.  He hoped so.  At times he felt like a man dying of thirst in the desert, desperate for some droplet that Johnny would let fall.  Some clue as to what made his brother tick.  But Johnny was the most guarded individual he’d ever met.  And certainly the deadliest.

“Looks like rain, Boston.”  Johnny was reining in and reaching for his slicker tied with his bedroll.  “And it’s getting fucking cold.  Dios, I hate the cold.  And the rain.  Should’ve stayed in Mexico.”

Scott felt a cold clutch of fear.  “You don’t mean that.” He tried to make his tone light.  “Heck, Johnny, you’d miss all this.  Riding for hours, rounding up strays, fixing fences.  Now admit it, wouldn’t you miss all of that?”

Johnny grunted, screwing his eyes up as he peered into the distance.  “It’s already fucking raining over there.  Shit.”  And he pulled his slicker up round him, shivering as he did so.

Scott pulled his own slicker on, looking at the heavy bank of cloud.  “Have you any idea how far we are from the line shack that’s meant to be ahead, always assuming we’re going the right direction?”

“We should make it in an hour or two by my reckoning.  It would be a hell of a lot quicker if the ground wasn’t so rocky.  But if it’s any consolation, Boston, I reckon we’re on target.  I’ve been up this way before so I’ve a pretty good idea where we’re headed.”

“What were you doing this far north?” 

Johnny ignored the question and urged Barranca on, leaving Scott covered in a cloud of dust.  Scott cursed under his breath.  Johnny had to be the most irritating man he’d ever met.  He’d lay odds that his brother had been a very difficult child.  He felt a brief pang of sympathy for Johnny’s mother.  She must have had her work cut out trying to deal with him.  But the sympathy was gone as quickly as it came.  If she hadn’t walked out taking Johnny with her, doubtless his brother would have grown into a very different person.

The first drops of rain were carried by the rising wind, stinging his face.  He pulled his hat down lower and huddled down into his slicker.  Johnny had a point.  It was cold.  He was used to cold Boston winters, but the snow was a dry cold, not like this biting wet cold which felt as if it could penetrate your bones.  Resigned, he just pushed on, following Johnny, who did give the appearance of knowing which way he was heading.  Good thing one of them did.

It was closer to two hours before they spied the shack.  But although it was spartan, Scott thought it was as welcome a sight as the most exclusive hotel.  They settled their horses and fed them from the supplies stored under the eaves before pushing open the battered door of the shack and taking shelter.

Johnny searched the cupboard to scrape together a semblance of a meal while Scott battled with lighting a fire.  He cursed as the damp wood spat sparks but it looked as though it would catch.  Thank heavens.  At least there was a chance they’d be able to dry out and get warm again. 

Later, after their meagre meal, they both sat huddled at the fire.  Johnny had his arms wrapped round himself and there was a bluish tinge to his fingers.  Scott reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a flask of whisky.  “I liberated this from the liquor cupboard before we left.  Fancy a snifter?”  He held it out to Johnny, who seized it gratefully and took a short swig.

“The old man would’ve killed me if I did something like that.”  Johnny fell silent again.

“Not coming back for dinner was bound to aggravate him.  You knew he wanted you to meet Aggie.”

“I don’t jump to no man’s tune.  And like I said, she sure don’t like half breeds.”

What would it be like to have people dislike you just because of the colour of your skin?  Scott thought of the circle he’d mixed with in Boston, remembering the barbed remarks some had made about Negroes.  Most of the people who’d made the remarks had never even met a Negro.  They were just ignorant and bigoted and doubtless they would have the same opinions of Mexicans or anything outside their personal experience.

“It’s strange.  When I’ve met her socially she has been very pleasant and quite entertaining company.  But of course in that sort of social setting one would never have an inkling of what prejudices may lie under the surface.  It’s like the comments of some of the ranchers, at first glance they seem perfectly affable and one wouldn’t guess what they really think.  I met all sorts in the army and people never fail to surprise me.”

“Well, that’s the difference between us, Boston.  You’re always surprised if people are shit, whereas I never am.”  Johnny held his hand out for the flask.  At least his fingers didn’t look so blue now.

“You really are very cynical.”

Johnny grinned.  “That’s what Delice told me.  Said even more than she was.”  There was a slight ring of pride in Johnny’s voice as he spoke.  Scott couldn’t help but wonder if Johnny knew what cynical meant.

“I was afraid you were going to walk out on us this morning.”  There, he’d said it.  Voiced his fear that had been nagging away at him all day.

For a moment he thought Johnny wasn’t going to reply.  His face was almost entirely hidden in the shadows, out of reach of the light cast by the flickering flames.  When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper.  “It’s like I can’t help myself.  I just keep pushing and pushing.  Sometimes I think maybe I want him to throw me out.  And then I get sick inside thinking that’s just what he’ll do.  I tell you, I’m finding this shit is all so fucking hard.  And it don’t matter what I do, ’cos I nearly always fuck things up.  And the way he looks at me sometimes. . .”  Johnny fell silent again.  The only sound was from the wood crackling in the hearth.  Scott waited.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him if he did kick me out.  I know that no one really wants Madrid around.  The things I’ve done. . .  Things I wouldn’t want anyone to know about.  Hell, things I wouldn’t even tell a priest.  And the worst bit,” he shot an intense look at Scott, “well, I miss it.  I like how it made me feel and sometimes I just want. . .”  Johnny tailed off as though reluctant to say what he really wanted.  Always assuming he even knew what he really wanted.

Scott sighed and tried to figure out quite what to say.  “It was never going to be easy.  I mean, three totally disparate individuals...”

“I don’t see you and Murdoch as desperate.”   Johnny looked puzzled.

“No, disparate, not desperate.  It means fundamentally different.  We have nothing in common, except of course, blood.  We have no shared background or experiences and we’re suddenly thrust together as though we can become an instant family.  It was always going to be a slow process as we all get to know each other.”  Scott paused, wondering how to phrase his next remarks.  “But it does seem, sometimes, that you say things which you know will irritate him.  Like telling him when you’ve been whoring.  It’s probably not the wisest approach.”  He paused again.  “It’s almost like you’re goading him and I don’t understand why.”

Johnny huddled closer to the fire, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.  Scott waited.  Sometimes, it seemed, you just had to be patient with Johnny.  He’d answer when he was good and ready.

“Hell, Boston, I don’t understand why.  Like I said, I just can’t stop myself.  It’s like there’s a part of me that just wants to keep pushing.  See how far he’ll bend before he breaks.  And I guess that sometimes I just miss the freedom to do what I want.  Go where I want.  When I want.  And, I mean, I know you won’t be able to understand this, but I kinda miss. . .”  Johnny paused again, kicked at the fire with his foot.  “I kinda miss the gunfights, not knowing if I’ll walk away.  Makes me feel really good.  Real good feeling, almost like a woman makes . . .”  He tailed off again.  “I don’t miss the killing.  I mean, that had really gotten to me.  I told you before I get real bad dreams.  And I guess if the old man knew what I was really like he wouldn’t want me around.  An’ he’s got that fucking report on me and I don’t know what’s in it.”

Scott interrupted, “Is there something specific that you’re afraid is in there?”

Johnny stared at him, furrowing his brow as he tried to figure out the question.  “You mean one particular thing?”

Scott nodded.

“No, Boston, it ain’t just one thing I’m worried about.  It’s a whole load of things that could be in there.  I dunno what he knows about me and what he don’t.  And he sure as hell ain’t going to tell me and I ain’t asking.”

“Johnny, I honestly don’t believe you’re as bad as you seem to think.  OK, you might have done things you regret, but you’ve done a lot of things you can be proud of, too.”

Johnny gave a humourless laugh.  “Regret.  I’ve got a shit load of regrets.”

“What you need to do is concentrate on the aspects of ranch life that you enjoy.  Sure, some of it’s boring but a lot of it isn’t.  Look on it as a new challenge.  Hell, you cracked gunfighting so try something new!”

“You ever wonder about the report he’s got on you?  I suppose he’s got one on you.  But maybe it’s just me.  He even talks to you different.  He listens to what you say but he never seems to believe me.  Like over the bushwhacking.”

Scott thought about Johnny’s words before answering.  His brother had a point.  Their father did treat them differently.  “I don’t think it’s that he didn’t believe you.  I think he was shocked and because it was someone he’s known for a long time he didn’t want to believe they could do such a thing.  Human nature, I guess.  And as to how he treats you at other times, to be honest, I don’t think he has a clue how to deal with you.  I think,” Scott hesitated, “I think he’s terrified you’ll leave, go back to your old life, get yourself killed and I think he’s so scared of that happening that he won’t allow himself to get too attached.”

Johnny remained silent for a few moments, as though weighing up Scott’s words.  “I dunno, Boston, I just think that he don’t trust me and he don’t really want me around.  I’m already causing trouble for you all.  And this trouble in the saloon you told me about.  Well, I’ll bet he thought I was behind it.”

“No, he didn’t appear to think that at all.  I got the impression that his main concern was that you would have got caught up in it simply by being there.  More a case of in the wrong place at the wrong time.”  Scott grinned.  “We should have known you were tucked up with a girl.”

“Two girls, not one, two.”  He couldn’t help but notice that Johnny looked rather pleased with himself as he emphasised this point.

“And which two girls had the dubious pleasure of your company?”

“Sadie and Polly.”  Johnny looked across at him.  “I left your redhead for Otto Fry.”

“I’m sure she’s very grateful,” said Scott, drily.  “Anyway, just as well you were there and not in the saloon.  They were a pretty nasty bunch by all accounts and giving the impression that they’re figuring on staying a while.  That town needs a sheriff.”

Johnny shrugged.  “Folk get what they deserve for the most part.  If they’re too damn mean to put their hands in their pockets to pay a sheriff they shouldn’t complain when saddle tramps settle and start making trouble.  Serve ’em right.  They’re only concerned for their own skins and treat outsiders like shit.”

“Meaning you?”

Johnny shrugged again.  “Oh, I don’t care what they think of me.  And I sure as hell don’t expect them to be different.  Just pisses me off that folk treat me like shit but expect to use me when it suits ’em.”

“You think they’ll want you to sort this out?  I can’t see that happening.  I’m sure the men will move on and that’ll be an end of it.”

“Maybe.  Anyway, the people of Green River can go hang, ’cos even if they did want me, I wouldn’t lift a finger to help them.”  Johnny gave a humourless laugh.  “Besides, they couldn’t afford me.  I’m an awful expensive gun to hire.”

“Anyway, I’m sure they’re the least of our worries.  I am far more worried about your bushwhacker and the rest of our neighbours.”

“Driscoll won’t try nothing else on with me.  I scared the shit out of him.  And the others, they can go to hell.  I’m staying put.  Or at least until the old man throws me out.”

Scott felt a pang of sympathy for his brother.  Johnny really did seem to believe that Murdoch would throw him out, that it was just a matter of time.  “So even though you miss your old life, you will stay?”

“Didn’t say I missed my old life.  Just the rush I get when I’m facing someone down.  Dios, it feels good.  Everything feels more alive.  Like my blood’s pumping round faster and stronger and it’s real exciting.  Can’t explain it really.  But it’s a feeling almost like when you’re fucking.”  Johnny tilted his head to one side, listening.  “Anyway, it’s stopped raining, so maybe we’ll stay dry tomorrow.  And warm.  I’m sacking in now.  Didn’t get much sleep last night.”  And with a wink he went and tossed his bedroll down in the corner and settled himself down.

“Johnny,” Scott spoke softly, “Give Murdoch time.  It will get easier, I promise.  Between us, we’ll make the old goat unbend and become more human.”  His words were rewarded by a laugh from Johnny.

“OK, Boston, whatever you say.  Just keep the old goat off my back otherwise I just might shoot him one of these days.  Or take to the bottle.  G’ night, Boston, don’t snore.”

 

Part Eight

He watched the two of them ride off before heading back to his desk.  It seemed that nothing was going smoothly.  Occasionally, he’d allowed himself to hope that now he had the two of them home, where they belonged, that the ranch would go from strength to strength with them all pulling their weight.  New blood, new ideas.  But right now, that prospect seemed far away.

He’d felt a stab of fear earlier, that Johnny would actually walk out, but even then he’d been unable to voice his fear.  He hadn’t got a clue how to handle his younger son.  And it seemed that whatever he said, he put his foot in things.  Somehow, it was easier with Scott.  Partly because Scott’s upbringing was such that he would have a rational discussion of issues.  But maybe, also because in many ways Scott was a total stranger.  He hadn’t known him as a child.  He had no memories of holding him in his arms or lifting him onto a horse, or pursuing him through the barns before collapsing in a pile of hay with a toddler, the two of them laughing uproariously together at the chase.  Johnny had been such a happy child.  And now, try as he might to look for some remnant of that child in the man, it seemed there was nothing left.  Instead, Johnny seemed so remote that Murdoch felt powerless to break through that hard exterior.  And Johnny seemed to have no idea about how to behave in company or to even pass the time of day with their neighbours.  God only knew what the boy’s upbringing had been like for it certainly appeared that Maria hadn’t taught him even the rudiments of civilised behaviour.  She had failed their son.

But he was determined that he wouldn’t fail Johnny.  He’d do everything within his power to keep him safe.  He sighed.  Safe.  That was a joke - with half the local ranchers threatening to shoot him and now the business with Driscoll.  Could Johnny be right?  Had Driscoll been trying to bushwhack him?  He didn’t want to believe that.  He wanted to think that the whole thing was a dreadful accident.  Because he knew, if he did believe it had been deliberate then anything could happen and that by keeping his son here, he was putting him in as much danger as Johnny faced in his old life.

And what the hell had Johnny meant when he said Aggie didn’t like Mexicans?  Was Johnny just being extra sensitive because he must have seen so much prejudice around the border?  But somehow, he didn’t think Johnny had sounded as if he was just touchy about his mixed parentage.  No, he’d sounded as if he was just stating a fact.  Aggie.  Murdoch furrowed his brow and poured himself a drink from the decanter on the desk.  It was odd, but now he came to think of it, Aggie didn’t employ Mexicans on her ranch.  That was very unusual, nearly everyone in the territory employed Mexican vaqueros.  Everyone except Aggie. 

He cast his mind back trying to recall the things Maria had said about the neighbours when they had first been married.  She’d complained regularly that all the “gringo women” looked down on her.  Maria would throw things in rages after coming back from a couple of social mornings, spitting venomous comments about the wives of their neighbours.  He’d always tried to calm her down, afraid that she’d injure herself or their unborn child, and she would accuse him of not standing up for her.  Of not believing her.  Being a typical gringo.  And the incidents would usually end with her hurling heavy objects at him and locking him out of their room.

But all of his rancher friends had been so complimentary about Maria. . .  He wondered now if he had been very blind.  If he was honest, he’d known that all his friends wanted to bed her.  What man wouldn’t?  But maybe that was the only reason for the compliments, that they had only seen her as someone they’d like to fuck whereas he’d always imagined that they liked her for herself even if they were attracted to her.  He’d been so proud and he knew how they all envied him.  But he had believed that they and their wives liked her.  Could he have been so wrong?  Had Maria been right when she said the women hated her because she was Mexican?  He’d thought maybe the women envied Maria her beauty, but he’d never thought they were prejudiced.  Until now.  Maybe, he’d failed her too.

He buried his head in his hands.  God!  He was a huge success in business but right now it seemed like he was a failure on every other front.  If only he knew more about Johnny’s past.  Maybe it would help him understand the boy.  He’d finally plucked up the courage to read the Pinkerton Report but it was surprisingly scanty, given all the money he’d paid.  It was full of the sort of snippets reported in newspapers, and unsubstantiated reports but it seemed very thin on solid facts.  Whoever had compiled it seemed to have relished painting Johnny Madrid as a desperado, but had skimmed over incidents where Johnny’s behaviour did appear to stand up to closer examination.  What was it Johnny had said to him about that report – something about his father being “robbed?”  He could only assume that the report was a miss mash of true and false but there was damn all about the boy’s childhood.  The Pinkerton men seemed to have totally failed to ferret out any information on that.  And if Maria had died when Johnny was only about 10, what the hell had the boy done after that?  Where had he been in those missing years before he started to make his name?  One thing he was certain of, Johnny wouldn’t be filling in the gaps at any time in the near future.  It seemed the past really was past and no questions were permitted on that front.  He had the distinct impression that if he tried to press Johnny, the boy really would just up and leave.  Hell.  What a stinking mess.

And what the hell should he do about Driscoll?  Or Aggie?  The last thing he wanted was yet more gossip about Johnny.  Because, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t know how much more Johnny would take.  And if he was certain of one thing, it was that he wanted Johnny to stay. 

The rattle of wheels broke into his thoughts.  Looking out of the window he could see Aggie drawing up outside in her buggy.  Well, her arrival would save him a ride in the heat.  And maybe he’d even learn a thing or two from her.  Or about her.

He left the cool of the house to go out and welcome her.  “Back so soon, Aggie?  Come on in out of the heat.  It’s so sticky there’s bound to be a storm before the day is out.”

Aggie smiled her thanks as he poured her a glass of lemonade from the jug placed there earlier by Teresa.  It had sat untouched while he drank whisky and he knew that Teresa would be upset if it wasn’t drunk.

“You must be wondering why I’m back so soon.”  Aggie’s tone was tentative.  Like she was fishing to find out what he knew about the morning’s incident.

“Johnny told me about the business with Driscoll.  It must have been very alarming for you to drive into the middle of it.”  He kept his comment deliberately neutral.  No way would he be condemning his son to outsiders – friends or not.

“Yes, it was.  I was in half a mind to carry on home but I changed my mind.  I wanted to know if he even told you about it.  I worry about your safety, Murdoch.  I feel that he’s a very dangerous young man.”

Murdoch smiled at that.  “Well, I daresay that he is a very dangerous young man – when he’s threatened.  But he’s no danger to his own family.  He’s trying to start a new life, Aggie.  I hoped that you would be able to get to know him.”

“Murdoch, I saw him with Mr. Driscoll, you didn’t.  He had his gun to his throat and it looked as though he intended to pull the trigger.  If I hadn’t come along when I did...”

“Aggie,” Murdoch interrupted, “As Johnny was under the impression that Driscoll was trying to bushwhack him, I think we can excuse his reactions.  He wanted to know what Driscoll was up to, that’s only natural.”

“Bushwhack him!”  Aggie’s tone was scathing.  “Murdoch, we both know Mr. Driscoll, is it likely that he would do something like that?”

Murdoch looked at her thoughtfully.  “I wonder if we ever really know anyone.”

She threw him a dubious look.  “I’ll tell you one thing, we’ve known Mr. Driscoll a lot longer than we’ve known Johnny Madrid.”

Murdoch set his glass down sharply.  The whisky spilled over the desk.  “Are you seriously asking me to doubt my own son?  I may not have known him for long, but I think there’s a good man under that hard exterior.  He risked his life for the women on this ranch, women he didn’t know, simply because he knew what Pardee would have done to them if he’d won.  He sought revenge for the murder of two good family men, killed on the cattle drive in the summer.  And he did it because he was appalled at what happened to them.  Oh, he’s a mystery to me, I’ll admit that, but he is my son and I trust him.”  His vehemence surprised him.  But oddly, he found he meant his words.  Johnny was many things, an enigma, but Murdoch believed that at heart there was a good man hiding in Madrid.  A proud man.

Aggie looked taken aback my Murdoch’s vehemence.  “My, my, it seems that Johnny really has wormed his way into your affections.”

Wormed.  What an unpleasant way of putting it.  “I wouldn’t say wormed.  No one could accuse Johnny of having made the last few months easy on me.  But Scott and Sam have both taken to him.  And as I’m sure you’ll agree, neither of them is a fool.”

“No, neither of them is a fool.  But I worry for you.  His being here is affecting the ranch.  Everything you’ve worked for is threatened by his presence.”

“Aggie.  Don’t you realise, everything I worked for, I did so that one day my sons would inherit it.  And now they’re finally home.  Both of them.  And I intend for it to stay that way.  Lancer will survive.  The ranch has faced hard times before and I dare say it will again in the future.  But for the time being, people are just going to have to get used to the fact that Johnny has come home.”

She flushed.  “Well, maybe it’s a shame that you didn’t see him today, with his gun at Mr. Driscoll’s throat.  I can’t believe Mr. Driscoll will just let the matter drop.”

Murdoch looked out of the window, pondering her words.  “Actually, I think it’s rather telling that he hasn’t already been to see me to complain.  Unless of course he’s got something to be ashamed of.  And Johnny was right.”

She didn’t reply.  Just sipped her lemonade.  It was strange, over the years she’d always made the right noises when he’d discussed getting the boys back.  Although she had always been more positive about Scott’s return.  He wondered about Johnny’s words.  She didn’t like Mexicans or half breeds.

“Why don’t you employ any Mexican vaqueros on your ranch?”

She looked startled by the sudden change of question.  “Mexican vaqueros?  What on earth made you think of that?  Well, I’m not very good at Spanish and it’s much easier to deal with people who speak English.”

“A lot of them speak excellent English so that shouldn’t raise any communication problems.  You should employ some.  They’re good and loyal workers and very good with stock.  I owe the success of my ranch to having such good vaqueros.”

Aggie sat silently for a few seconds, her hands restlessly turning the glass in her hands.  “Well, Murdoch, that’s quite a vote of confidence in your Mexicans.”

“Mexicans?  They’re my employees.  I don’t really give any thought to their nationality.  But we shouldn’t forget that this was their territory originally.  To them, this is home.  We’re the incomers.”

Aggie shifted, as though uncomfortable in her chair.  “Has Johnny vouchsafed any information about poor Maria?  It was so distressing for you when she left, I’ve always wondered what became of her.”

“I understand that she became sick and died when Johnny was still very young.  Too young to be left to fend for himself.  I feel that I failed him by not finding him years ago, I don’t intend to fail him again.”

“No one forced a gun into his hand.”  She flushed, as though regretting the tart remark.

Murdoch eyed her thoughtfully.  “No, I don’t suppose they did.  But perhaps to a young boy of mixed race growing up on the border, faced with prejudice because of the colour of his eyes or the colour of his skin, he may have felt it was the only way to survive.  Prejudice is rife at all levels of society, wouldn’t you agree, Aggie?”

“I really wouldn’t know about that.  I am so busy with the running of my ranch and my charity activities with the church amongst some of the poorer families hereabouts that I really don’t know much at all about those sorts of things.  I suppose we ladies really don’t know what goes on in the minds of men.”

Murdoch suppressed a smile.  “It’s not just men who hold prejudices, women do too.  Even my Maria apparently met with prejudice in this locality.  Surprising, don’t you think?  The wife of a rancher like myself, fairly successful even in those days, but she faced a great deal of prejudice.”

“Well, that really is very unfortunate.  I know how my group all tried to make her welcome when she arrived.  But there you are, what would I know about such things?”

“What indeed!”

“Now, I really must be getting back.  As you say, it looks as though a storm could be brewing.  Do thank Teresa for the lemonade.  Such a good girl she’s turning out to be.  A real credit to you.”

Murdoch stood up, towering over Aggie.  “Well, I’d say she was a credit to her father.  Now, Aggie, head on straight back.  I’d avoid the town if I were you, I heard there have been some saddle tramps in, stirring up trouble.”

“Why thank you for your concern.  I had heard about the trouble, I was worried that your Johnny might have been involved.”

Murdoch opened the door and walked with her towards her buggy.  “No, Johnny was not involved.  Don’t worry yourself on that score.”

He waved goodbye before walking slowly back to his desk.  With a guilty look at the remains of the lemonade, he poured himself another whisky.  And then he started to laugh.  Well, well, Johnny Madrid.  No education at all.  But Johnny could certainly read people.  Because he knew now that Johnny’s reading of Aggie had been spot on.  Seen in two minutes what Murdoch had missed during years of acquaintanceship.  His laughter faded.  Hell, if Johnny was right about Aggie, then maybe he’d been right about Driscoll.  And if Driscoll had indeed tried to bushwhack him, who else might try the same thing?  Was Johnny ever going to be left alone or were they going to spend their lives looking over their shoulders and fearing for his safety?

 

Part Nine

The rain had set in again by the following day, and Johnny swore as he tightened up another fence line.  Dios.  He hated the rain.  In the past he’d deliberately stayed south.  If he had to sleep rough, it was a damn sight warmer down round the border.  But no, here he was with rain dripping down his neck, finding every way it could inside his slicker.  He gave the wire a savage twist.  Fucking rain.  Why was he here?  Just pack the whole thing in and head south.  He bowed his head briefly, and all the rain cascaded off the brim in front of his face like a veil or tears.  And where the hell did that thought come from?  A veil of tears?  Dios, he must have been spending too much time with Boston.  Head south to the sun.  It was odd, but the idea didn’t have as much appeal as he thought it would.  If only he wasn’t so torn up over everything.  Felt like he didn’t know which way to turn.  He was so fucking confused.  And Madrid was never confused.  Which was why he couldn’t handle all of this.  This was what drowning must feel like.  Everything he felt secure with was sinking under some great wave caused by Murdoch Lancer and his ranch and all the demands he made of his son.  And if he wasn’t careful, there’d be nothing left, he wouldn’t exist.  He’d just be a broken and hobbled beast of burden. 

But the alternative was no better.  Then he’d felt he was drowning under a sea of bodies of the men he’d killed.  And that life would bring even more nightmares.  That life was no life at all.  The living death of a damned soul.  Shit, Madrid.  Just mend the damn fences and quit thinking at all. 

And there were a hell of a lot of fences to mend.  He and Scott worked flat out for the next  three days, so tired by the evenings that they both fell asleep almost as soon as they had finished eating.  It was easier that way.  Boston never asked awkward questions when they were eating so leastways he’d managed to avoid any of the man’s demands for information about Johnny’s past.  And Johnny felt he was running out of bits to tell Scott.  Most of it he would never repeat to a living soul.  And certainly not to this educated, refined brother.  Dios.  What the hell would Scott think if he knew the worst of it?  Like how Johnny’s mother had died and what he’d done.  Or the things he’d done when he was starting out to make a name for himself, or what some of Mama’s men had done.  Or the prison.  Oh, God, the prison.  Never, never that, not to a living soul.  Not even to himself.  That was a step too far.  He could feel his hands start to shake so he turned away, took a swig from his water bottle.  And some deep breaths.  Trying to bring his heart beat back under control.  And anyway, none of it was anyone’s business.  They could all fuck off.  He wasn’t telling no one anything so why was he getting himself so twisted up about it all?  He must be loco, always worrying away at things.  Like a dog with a damned bone.

The sound of hooves broke into his thoughts.  Boston, back from checking out the lines to the west of where they were working.

Scott grinned at him, an open, easy smile.  What would it feel like to be that relaxed?  “I am delighted to report that this appears to be the end of it.  That next stretch was obviously already checked by an earlier line crew and looks perfectly sound.  So, just to show what a generous and thoughtful soul I am, I shot us a couple of rabbits and I intend to cook us a delicious supper.  I even secreted a rather fine Chateau Margaux in with the supplies.  I found it in the wine cellar and liberated it because I felt that our father’s rather dour, Presbyterian tastes probably don’t extend to appreciating the finest of French wines.”

Johnny stared at Scott, expressionlessly, trying to figure out what the hell the man was talking about.  Still rabbit and wine sounded pretty good so he just nodded and tried to look like he understood exactly what Boston was carrying on about.  It would be so much easier if they just spoke the same language.  He sometimes wondered if Murdoch understood everything that Scott went on about.  But yeah, he probably did.  It was just Madrid who was too dumb to figure it all.  Well, Madrid and Teresa, but she didn’t count being a girl and all.  Anyhow, she just sat open mouthed at times listening to old Boston like he was some sort of God or something.  She’d be catching flies at that rate.  Still, she was pretty good at stopping the old man getting too worked up over things.  Seemed to know how to calm him down so she was kinda handy to have around.  But she made fucking awful tamales.  Thank God they had Maria in the kitchen.  Now there was a woman who understood tamales.  

“Are you listening to me, Johnny?”  Scott was looking at him, with a real piercing look.  “I asked you if you thought we should try and catch some fish – then we could have a fish course and it would almost be like a civilised meal.”

“Fish?  I was thinking about tamales.  And chicken mole.  And salsa.  Now that would be a civilised meal.”

Scott grinned.  “I’m sure you can talk your way around Maria when we get home.  In the mean time you’ll have to make do with my lapin a la moutarde.  You’ll like it, I promise.”

Johnny laughed.  “Anything you say, Boston.  And it has to be worth celebrating if we can head back tomorrow, out of this rain.”

Surprisingly, Johnny found he did like Scott’s fancy way with rabbit.  It tasted a whole lot better than some of the real plain cooking that Teresa did.  An’ all those fucking roasts. 

“So where d’you learn to cook like that?  Thought you wouldn’t have been allowed near the kitchen.  Figured that was just for all your servants.”

“I learned from a very obliging young lady when I was in France.”

“Obliging?”  Johnny grinned.  Now that was more like it.  “I guess when you say obliging, you mean obliging in more than just the cooking department?”

Scott raised an eyebrow.  “A gentleman never talks about his conquests.”

Johnny stared at him, what the hell was he talking about now?  “Well, I don’t know about your conquests, what I meant was did you get to fuck her?”

Scott gave an exaggerated sorta sigh and poured them both another glass of wine.  “In answer to your somewhat crude inquiry, yes, I got to fuck her.  As well as learning how to cook rabbit.”

Johnny thought about that.  “Tell you something, I’d have skipped the cooking and spent more time fucking.  You got a lot to learn, times I worry about you.”  He took a sip of his wine.  Real slow, like Scott did so that the man wouldn’t accuse him of not ‘savouring the aroma’ whatever that meant.  Funny thing though, he found he enjoyed the wine more when he drank it slow, so maybe old Boston had a point.

“Do you ever think about anything other than women?”

Johnny decided to answer seriously.  “Yeah.  Gunfights.  And these days I find myself thinking about fences and alfalfa.  I mean, shit, Johnny Madrid trying to calculate how much fucking wire we need or how many acres of alfalfa to plant.  I should stick to thinking about fucking.”

Scott was laughing now.  “One of these days you’re going to surprise us all and fall in love.  And all the whores in Green River will go into mourning.  Always assuming that you really are as good at it as you’re always telling me.”

“Oh, I’m good.  And it would be kind of a shame to keep myself for just one woman.  Wouldn’t be fair on the rest of ’em.  Hell, I got ’em lining up for me.”

Scott was laughing real good now.  “Can’t say that I’ve ever noticed that.”

“That’s ’cos you go round with your eyes closed.  You never notice half of what’s going on around you.  That’s going to get you killed one of these days.  You’re out west now and you need to smarten up, Boston.” 

Scott shrugged.  “Good thing I’ve got you to watch my back then.”

“What makes you think I’ll watch it for you?”

“Apart from the fact that you watched it when we were in Bitterville?  Let’s just call it a hunch.  And I, in my own incompetent eastern way, will watch yours.”

Johnny tried to stop the smile spreading.  “I ain’t sure that knowing you’re watching my back will help me sleep better.”

Scott leaned over and got another bottle of wine out.  “Afraid we’ve drunk the good stuff, but this should be passable.”  He looked more serious now.  “How did you start as a gunfighter?”

Johnny furrowed his brow, puzzled.  “What do you mean?  I got myself a gun and started hiring out.  I told you how I used to practice.”

“Yes, but did someone help you start out?  I don’t understand how you managed at the beginning.”

The beginning?  When the hell had that been?   Long before he’d ever picked up a gun.  It was just part of him.  Like the dream had taken control of him.  And becoming a gunfighter had been his destiny.  Yeah, that was the word, his destiny.

“There was someone...”  He paused.  Didn’t know if he wanted to go down this road.  Didn’t want anyone to know too much about him.  But shit, seemed like old Boston always wanted to know things.  And he knew he could trust him not to blab to anyone. 

“Who?”  Scott’s voice intruded into his thoughts.

Johnny shrugged.  “Oh, just a man.”

“You can’t leave it there.  That’s no way to tell a story.”

“Didn’t know I was.”  He looked across at Scott, who simply raised hi eyebrow in a kind of questioning way.  “It was after I’d been in prison.”  Shit.  Not the prison.

“Where they sent you for stealing the bread?  I still can’t believe they sent a boy of 12 or 13 to prison for stealing bread.”

“Yeah.  Well, the bread was just the start of it.  They threw me in jail and I knocked out the sheriff when I was trying to escape.  I guess that was the bit they didn’t like.”

Scott grinned.  “I don’t suppose they did like that.  So, you met this person later?”

“Yeah.  I moved around, looking for work, trying to earn enough to buy bullets so I could keep practising.  And I had this scruffy old horse I’d found.  Didn’t seem to belong to no one so I used to ride him and travel about.”

“Bareback?”

“Well of course fucking bareback.  Where d’you think I’d get a saddle from?  Dios.”  Johnny ran his hand through his hair.  Boy, Boston was a real innocent.  “Anyhow, I was always hungry and sometimes I’d hold up a traveller if they looked like they could spare some supplies.  Kind of to relieve them of their load.”  Johnny grinned at the memories.

“Very considerate of you.”

“Yeah.  I thought so.  Anyway, I saw three men coming along the road and they had a mule and I figured they could spare something so I just rode right out in front of them.  With my gun out and told them that I was going to take some of their food.  But I must have been fucking hungry and not too alert ’cos as soon as I looked at them right I realised they all had their guns tied down, like professionals.  And I thought, shit, but figured I’d just have to bluff through it. 

“But their leader looked kind of amused that |I was holding them up.  Must have looked pretty funny.  I was a real scrawny kid, barefoot with old white raggedy clothes and an old raggedy horse.  And a gun that was so fucking heavy it used to take all my strength to hold the damn thing straight.  Anyhow, he said I was welcome to some of their supplies, but they were making camp about a mile further on and if I wanted I could join them for a hot meal.

“Dios.  A hot meal.  I hadn’t had one of those since the prison.  But I figured it was a trap and said did they think I was dumb or something.”  Johnny shook his head slightly.  Shit, it seemed so long ago.  “Their leader, this big gringo, said they’d ride in front of me and keep their hands on their saddle pommels and I could follow them with my gun out, so I knew they wouldn’t try anything.  But I figured they probably thought I didn’t know how to use it, so I told them I’d killed before and I wasn’t afraid to do it again.”

Scott’s head shot up.  “Killed before?  You were just telling them that, right?”

Shit.  That was the trouble with talking, you could give yourself away.  Especially after wine.  It’s why he never hardly drank.  It left you open.  Tripped you up.  “Well, I didn’t want them thinking I was a push over.”  That was it.  Not actually telling a lie to Boston but side stepping the question.  “So I followed them because I thought a hot meal would be real nice.”  That and the need for company.  He’d never realised quite how lonesome it could be when it was just him and the horse for weeks on end.  Not that he’d ever admit to being lonesome.

“This gringo made the others take their guns off so that I could trust them to build a fire.  Dios I was an innocent.  Never occurred to me that they’d have guns in their jackets too.”

“Did they pull their guns on you?”  Scott sounded real shocked.

Johnny laughed.  “No.  But they could have.  No.  They just built the fire and cooked the meal.  And asked what I was doing out there and where I got my gun.  I told them I was going to be the fastest pistolero anyone had ever seen.  They looked amused by that but they didn’t really laugh at me.  They told me they were gunfighters and their leader said if I wanted, I could stay the night and they’d have a look at my draw in the morning.  Tell me if I was any good.”

Johnny fell silent.  Remembering how the hope had welled up at their offer.  But how he’d also wondered what price they’d make him pay.  How he’d wondered if all three of them would...  “So I said I’d camp at the edge of their camp, but if any of them came to take my gun in the night, I’d kill them.”  He’d told them something slightly different to that, but there was no way he was telling Scott what he’d suspected, or what he’d said.

“And did they try to take your gun?” Scott sounded curious.

Johnny felt a sudden lump in his throat.  “No.  Instead of sitting on guard, I must have fallen asleep.  When I woke in the morning someone had put a blanket over me and tucked the gun in next to me.”  He was silent for a second.  Hadn’t known what to make of that, but he’d figured it must have been some kind of a trick.  “Anyway, after breakfast, they set up some cans and said just to shoot them.  Not draw, just see if I could hit them.  Which I did.  So they put up some bottles and said see if I could draw and hit them.  Got each one through the neck.  Then the leader asked if I could hit them with his gun.  So although the first was a bit off, I got the feel of the gun and got all the others.”

“Through the neck again?”  Scott sounded impressed.

“Yeah.  Through the neck.  They each made me try their guns.  And then the leader wanted me to draw again.  And all the time, all I wanted to know was what he thought.  But he was kinda quiet at first.  Then he said my draw was crap.”  Johnny shook his head again, as he remembered the pain when the man had said that.  “I got real angry and said he could go fuck himself and I would be the best.  And I went off to get my horse and leave.  And he told me to shut up and just listen.  Then he said they needed a fourth man, for the sorts of jobs they did, and he said I had a real smart mouth which would come in handy.  And he said they’d teach me all the tricks.  Then he said something real strange.  He said if I agreed to join them, I had to promise that when I went solo I would never draw down on any of them.  And I was still real mad and said why the fuck would he worry about that when he thought I was crap.”

Johnny paused again, remembering it all now, like it was yesterday.  “And he looked at me and said, ‘son, your draw’s crap because you’re wearing your gun all wrong.  But I know real talent when I see it.  And my guess is that you will be the fastest pistolero any of us has ever seen and I sure as hell don’t want to be facing down the wrong end of your gun when that day comes.’  Shit, Scott, I couldn’t believe it.  It was all I’d ever wanted and here was this professional telling me I really did have what it takes.”

Johnny fell silent again.  No way would he tell Scott that he’d then demanded to know what else the men would want to do with him.  Or that deep down, he’d known he’d have put up with anything to learn his trade.  But the men weren’t like that.  The leader had looked kinda sad at Johnny’s words.  Said their tastes ran to whores and all that was required from Johnny was to keep a civil tongue in his head and get along with them all.

“Were they kind to you?”  The wording of Scott’s question surprised Johnny and he looked at Scott sharply, wondering if his brother suspected.  But he thought not.  Scott was seeing him as a young kid, not realising how very old Johnny had been even then.  Hell, he’d been old for a very long time.

“Yeah.  Luke, his name was Luke, tried to give me a bit of schooling.  Told me where different countries were, how to add up so I could handle deals, that kinda thing.  Tried to teach me table manners too but he said that I was beyond hope.  He only ever hit me once.”

“What for?”

“They took me to a whore house, and I was kinda lippy with one of the girls.  Luke asked them to excuse us, took me outside and then hit me really hard across the mouth.  Said didn’t I know that none of those girls wanted to be there.  Wasn’t their dream when they were growing up.  But when you’re a girl and you’re cold enough and hungry enough you’ll do anything to survive.  Said how it was easier for boys, they could always find work and he said how if I’d been born a girl that’s where I would have ended up.  And he was right.  And I’ve never fucking forgotten it either.”

“How long were you with him?”  Scott was real interested. 

“I dunno.  Maybe eighteen months.  But I wanted to go my own way and make a name.  And he knew that.  Night before I was due to leave we all had a meal round the campfire and a bit too much whiskey.  But he said he wanted me to promise him something.  And I said I hadn’t forgotten about my promise not to draw on them.  But he said he wanted something else as well.  Said when I finally went to see my old man, he wanted me to listen to him first.  He said if I found out that it was like Mama said, then shoot him and good riddance.  But he said there’re two sides to every story and he thought I should hear my father’s side.  Shit.  Everyone could tell what a liar my mother had been, everyone except me.”

“That other gunfighter had said the same to you, hadn’t he?  The one who helped you when you were whipped?”

“Yeah.  I wonder what Murdoch would say if he knew he owed his life to two gunfighters.”  Johnny sighed.  “I’m turning in, these bedtime stories wear me out.  Still, least we get to ride back tomorrow.  I must be getting old, I want a proper bed.”

“It will be very welcome, I admit.  No wonder Murdoch wanted us around.  He doesn’t have to go out and do things like this anymore.  He can stay nice and comfortable drinking his Scotch by the fire.”

“In the dry.  And not getting cold. G’night, Boston.  Try not to snore.”

 

Part Ten

Scott snored but that wasn’t what woke him up.  It was the dreams.  Faces of men he’d killed, fields of blood and the prison...  He gave up before dawn, angry with himself.  Should never have told Scott about how he started out.  Should have known it would just make things worse.  Hell, he got little enough sleep as it was thanks to his ghosts, didn’t need to lose even more.  And it didn’t look as though it would be any better when they got back.  The old man would certainly want him to avoid town for a while because of the threats and the Driscoll business.  So it didn’t look like he’d be visiting a whore anytime soon.  At least then he would get a little dreamless sleep.  Not much, but enough to keep him going.

He stared out of the window of the old shack.  At least the rain had finally broken off but there was a heavy layer of cloud which totally blocked the moon.  Moonlight always seemed pure and clean.  It had a clearness that he liked and found soothing.  But on nights like this the darkness could be suffocating.  It was like being buried alive, could almost feel the darkness like dirt in his mouth and his throat.  Shit. 
He looked east, hoping to see the early traces of dawn, but there was no soft warming glow.  It just looked slightly less black that the other blackness.  Like it was an omen.  Shit.  Where did these thoughts come from?  How dumb did that sound.  A dark dawn as an omen.  Dios.  He really was loco.  And now he was fretting over his bullets again.  Wanting to check his supplies.  He picked up his saddle bag and went through it methodically.  It was like a ritual with him as he checked each bag for bullets and shells for his rifle.  Then he’d check his knives and the needle and thread he kept in his jacket.  Already threaded.  Because when you’d been shot it was real tricky threading a needle to sew yourself up.  Much easier to have it ready to use.  What would Scott say if he knew the number of times Johnny Madrid had dug bullets out of himself.  Find somewhere safe to lie low and never let anyone see you at your weakest.  Scott probably thought Johnny carried that bottle of tequila for drinking.  But it had other, more important uses, although it stung like hell when he sloshed it over a wound.  Still, it seemed to do the trick. 

He stared out at the night, still searching for some glimmer of the dawn.  He felt so old at times like this.  And tired.  Worn out with the fighting.  The fight to survive.  Deep down he’d hoped that life would be easier here.  Well, it was different, but not easier.  And just like he’d always expected, no one wanted him around.  And now the ranch was going to suffer simply because he’d come home.  Should he just leave?  It was the hundredth time he’d asked himself that question in recent days.  Hated to think that Scott and Murdoch would be out of pocket simply because of his presence.  It wasn’t fair on them.  But then, when was life ever fair?  Life was a bitch whichever way you looked at it.    He would have gone, but just for a second he’d seen a glimmer of something in the old man’s eyes.  When the man was saying he wanted Johnny to stay.  Just for a second, Johnny would have bet his life that the man was being honest.  He did want him there.  Johnny ran his hand through his hair, trying to figure it out.  But yeah, the old man had looked as though he’d meant what he said, before the shutters came down again and you hadn’t got a clue what he was thinking.  Shit, the old man was hard to figure.  And he could be as irritating as hell at times, like in the way he’d listen to Scott but was quick to yell at Johnny.  But all the workers liked him.  And that told him something.  The old man treated his men and their families fairly and with a lot of compassion.  He paid good wages.  He expected a lot in return but when a man was sick or his family was ill, Murdoch Lancer always did what Johnny considered the right thing.  That said a lot about a man.  Most ranchers were only concerned about how much work they could get out of their vaqueros, more worried about their profit.  But Murdoch, well, he seemed to have slightly different values.  And even faced with the ranch taking a hit because of the latest stunt by the cattlemen, his father had said they’d deal with it as a family.

Family.  He couldn’t figure that at all.  Still didn’t know what was expected of him and it sure felt like he was on trial.  Why would they want him?  That was what he asked himself most and it was the one question he couldn’t answer.    Delice would probably have some fancy answer.  She seemed to know about everything.  He grinned.  Funny how he was always wondering what Delice would say.  Funny how he couldn’t get her voice out of his head.  Or her eyes.  Pity she wasn’t young and real pretty with legs up to her armpits.  She was tall though so she must have long legs.  Dios, he was doing it again.  Wasting his time thinking about that damn woman who always figured she knew what was best for him.  He grinned.  Trouble was, she usually did seem to be right.  Not that he’d ever admit it.  He’d never hear the end of it.  Women sure knew how to bend a man’s ear when they thought they were right. 

The sound of Scott stirring dragged his thoughts back to the present.  “You’re up early.”  Scott peered blearily at Johnny.  “I think perhaps I should have had a little less wine last night.”

Johnny grinned.  “Thought you said that good wine doesn’t give you a hangover.”

Scott winced as he sat up.  “I think the damage was done by the second bottle.  It wasn’t a good vintage.”

“Ah.”  Johnny kept his face straight and his tone neutral.  “So nothing to do with the whisky after dinner and the tequila we drank while you were cooking?”

Scott gave a half smile.  “No.  Nothing whatever to do with that.”

“Well, you’d better shift, because I think there’s more rain coming and we should try and keep ahead of it.”

They had packed up the night before, so after a speedy cup of coffee they got mounted up and hit the trail.

He could feel the rain in the air and the heavy cloud still blocked out the real signs of dawn.  Johnny pulled his slicker up round him, shivering as he did so. He pushed his hat further forward and urged Barranca into a lope. 

They kept up as fast a pace as possible but frequently had to slow when the going became too rocky.  Johnny looked across at Scott.  “Shit, I’ll be glad to get home.  I’m going to have a good long soak but right now it feels like I’ll never be warm again.”

Scott grinned.  “For a hardened gunfighter you really do like moaning about the cold.  Doesn’t do your hard man image any good at all.”

“That’s OK.  If you tell anyone, I’ll just shoot you, Boston.”

“Do you think Driscoll will have made trouble in our absence?”

Johnny thought about it briefly.  “No, I don’t.  I think I scared the shit out of him and he’ll be lying low not wanting to push his luck.”  He gave a short laugh as he remembered how Driscoll had been shaking with fear.  “I still think I should have finished him off.  He’s trouble.  And I’d lay money he’ll try that trick again on someone at some point.  But not on me.  Like I said, I scared the shit out of him and he won’t risk it again.  I bet dear Aggie’s kicked up a stink, though.”

Scott glanced across.  “Murdoch said he’d try and smooth things over.  Keep her quiet.”

Johnny shrugged.  “I dunno.  It seemed to me that he’ll listen to her telling over mine any day.  Don’t matter none.  She didn’t really see much.  I wasn’t breaking any law so she can think what she damn well likes.”

Scott smiled, pushed his hat back.  “She seems very keen for Murdoch’s good opinion so I expect she’ll leave well alone too.  Anyway, we’re going to be too busy planning the fall round up to worry about what anyone thinks.  I think Murdoch sees it as our first real test.  Give him a chance to see what we’re made of and something tells me that you won’t moan about the cold when he’s around.”

Johnny had to laugh.  Boston was real smart at times and he was right.  No way would Johnny Madrid be moaning in front of the old man.  To hell with that.  Murdoch was more than quick enough to find fault with Madrid and he had no intention of making it even easier for the man.  “No, I guess I won’t.  But the fall round up will be pretty easy, it’s not like a real big drive.  Taking herds through swollen rivers, now that’s dangerous, but the round up just to move cows and calves closer in for winter, well, that’s fine.”

“You’ve done it before?”

Johnny shrugged.  “I’ve helped out when money’s been short or when I’ve been lying low for various reasons.  And they always like someone to camp out away from the main herd so it suited me.  Meant I could usually stay on my own.  It was better that way.  Now quit talking, Boston and let’s get moving on.”  He spurred Barranca on.  Dios.  All this talking.  Didn’t Boston ever run out of things to say?

But give the man his due, Boston took the hint and for the next few hours they just pushed on figuring they could be back at the ranch that night.  The rain seemed to be following on their tails but at least they weren’t riding into it and somehow, the thought of home was real comforting.  Strange, but it was good to think of his own room waiting for him.  And a hot meal.  They finally paused on a ridge where they could see the ranch nestled in the valley below.  There was a glow of lights coming from the hacienda as dusk settled.  It looked like it was welcoming them back.  And it felt good.

Johnny took off down the hill.  Barranca seemed to take on a new lease of energy, doubtless scenting a warm stable and a bran mash.  And Scott followed close on their heels as they galloped into the yard by the big barn.

Johnny felt his gut clench as he saw Murdoch coming out of the house towards them.  Shit.  What now?  He was bound to be in trouble for something.  And he was too tired for a fight.  Maybe he should have gone to town instead of coming straight home.

“Good trip, boys?”

Well, he sounded cheerful, and he was smiling.  Johnny realised he’d been holding his breath.  Just expecting trouble.  But it seemed at least this time he needn’t have worried.  The old man looked quite friendly, almost like he was pleased to see them back.

Scott was talking cheerfully.  Telling him that they’d been working real hard and sorted out all the weak spots on the lines.  And the old man was nodding happily.  So shit, why couldn’t Madrid think of something to say?  And how come it was so easy for Scott?    Shit.  He wished he could do that, just talk to the man like it came easy.  “Murdoch.” He spoke softly.  Tried to think of something else to say.  “Everything been OK here?” 

“Absolutely fine, Johnny, but it’s good to see you both back.  And good to hear it’s all gone well.  One job less for us to worry about.”

Johnny didn’t mention Driscoll till after dinner.  Figured he might as well enjoy some peace while the old man was in a good mood.  But the question was eating away at him.  He sat slumped on the couch, trying to figure out how to raise the question.

“Has Driscoll been round?”  He didn’t mean for it to sound so sharp, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Murdoch looked at him, but didn’t look too pissed with him.  “No, he hasn’t and I found that quite telling.  Seems he’s not talking about it either.  There hasn’t been any gossip so I guess that he doesn’t want people to know about it.  Like he’s got something to hide.”

Johnny’s head jerked up.  Shit.  Almost sounded like the old man had decided Johnny’s version of events might be the truth.  “And your friend, Mrs. Conway?”

Murdoch smiled.  “Oh yes, she came to see me, not long after you two boys left.  That was interesting too.”  The man fell silent for a minute, then looked at Johnny, almost like he was embarrassed.  “And I think I owe you an apology, Johnny.  You said she didn’t like Mexicans and in all the years I’ve known her, I’d never noticed that.  But I think you’re right, seems I didn’t know her half as well as I thought I did.  All these years I’ve thought of her as a good friend.  Gone to auctions with her, bid against her.  But I never noticed that.”

Johnny felt like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  The old man apologising to him?  He tried to think of something to say.  Just to get it right.  Not put his foot in it.  “Murdoch, it don’t matter none.  She’s no different to a lot of folk.  It doesn’t bother me.  I mean, you can still go to your auctions with her.  I mean, people just have to get along, right?  There’s a lot of people hate Mexicans far more than she does.  I mean, what I’m saying is, I wouldn’t want you to feel bad about seeing her.”

Murdoch smiled.  “Let’s just say then, that I will see her differently from now on.  The scales have fallen from my eyes.”

Johnny furrowed his brow, puzzled.  That was one he hadn’t heard before, but he kind of got the picture.  “And have those saddle tramps moved on?”

Murdoch shook his head.  “No.  I’ve told the hands to avoid Green River for the time being.  There’ve been too many fights in the town and a lot of gunplay and I certainly don’t want anyone from here caught up in it.  We’re getting all the supplies from Morro Coyo, but Green River needs a sheriff if it’s going to continue to thrive.”

Johnny shrugged.  “You can’t force law onto people.  They get what they deserve.  When they’re ready to put their hands in their pockets, well, I guess that’s when things will get better.”

“Sometimes things need a helping hand.  If things were better with the Cattlemen’s Association at the moment I would suggest that we all shared the cost of a sheriff until the town sees the benefits but this is probably not the time to raise the subject.  So, for the time being we’ll avoid the town until those tramps have moved on.”

“What you’re saying is you want me to stay away from town for the time being?”

Murdoch nodded.  “We discussed it before and it would mean a lot to me.”

It would mean a lot to him.  Johnny stared at him, the words sounded so strange.  Like the man cared.  Johnny fiddled with the conchos on his trouser leg.  Then gave Murdoch a grin.  “OK.  For a week or two.  If it keeps you happy.”  Johnny hauled himself to his feet.  He wanted his bed.

Murdoch nodded.  “Thank you Johnny, it would keep me happy. See you in the morning.”

 

Part Eleven

He tried real hard over the next few days to keep the old man sweet.  Worked hard, kept his head down and even went through the books to see if he could spot extra ways to save money, seeing as how the Cattlemen’s latest actions were going to cost them money.  And he figured it was all his fault.  But it felt real good not to be butting heads all the time.  He knew it wouldn’t last but he was going to make the most of it while it did.  Scott had gone with some of the crew to the eastern pastures to start round up while Johnny took a bunch of men and moved the bulls further out.  If they were bringing cows and calves in they didn’t want the bulls around.  And he hadn’t screwed up in days.  He’d wondered a bit about the old man sending Scott off with the men and keeping Johnny closer to home.  Wondered if the old man just didn’t trust him.  But Murdoch had seemed OK.  Hadn’t made any smart remarks at Madrid’s expense.  Maybe, just maybe, he could still make a go of it here.  And by working so hard he found he didn’t miss the rush that his old life had given him.  Or leastways, didn’t miss it so much.  Seemed that the best way to deal with it was to get himself so worn out during the day that he fell into bed at night and didn’t have the energy to think about anything.

Didn’t stop the dreams though.  But hell, he was used to the dreams and he guessed that he was going to have those for good.  Couldn’t see those ever going away.  He sometimes wondered what it would feel like not to be haunted by the past.  If life had been different.  If his Mama had never left Lancer and he’d grown up here.  Would he have still ended up as a  gunfighter?  Was he just born bad?  Or could it have been different?  Shit.  He really had to quit worrying over these things.  Wasn’t like it would make things different.  Things were what they were and he had to live with it.

He was clearing out the big barn so they could put any sickly cattle in during the winter months when he heard the sound of a bunch of riders coming in.  Standing in the gloom of the barn he could see that it was a bunch of men from the Cattlemen’s Association.  Six of them.  And somehow, he didn’t think he’d want anything they might be selling.  He could see his father coming out of the ranch to speak to them.  Wished he could hear what they were saying.  Then they were all headed inside.  Shit.  He darted across the yard towards the house and slipped in the side door.  He wanted to hear this.  Because all his senses said the men were here to see him and not the old man.  Something to do with Driscoll, maybe?  No, that didn’t feel right.  This was something else.

He could hear their voices now.  “Not here on ranch business, Murdoch.  We need to talk to Madrid.”

And then his father.  “I believe that you mean my son, Johnny.  He’s working at the moment.  And why the delegation?”

Delegation?  What the fuck was that?

“There’s an important matter we need to discuss with him.  Can’t you call him in?”

Johnny stepped into the room.  “I’m listening.”  He spoke real soft, and he could see that his sudden appearance startled the men.  Good.  Felt like he had the edge now.  Murdoch was looking real worried and pretty pissed off as well. 

One of the men, bull headed and ugly, said:  “There’s been a lot of trouble in town, Madrid.  Saddle tramps causing trouble.  We can’t let our women folk go into Green River because of those men.  They’ve been causing fights, even smashed up a couple of stores yesterday.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow slightly.  “Is that so?  Well, it ain’t really my concern, is it?”

“We could make it your concern.”  A weasly faced man chipped in, the sort who never had no balls for anything.

“What is it you want with Johnny?”  Murdoch was looking even more riled now.  A vein was pulsing at the side of his head. 

“We need to make use of him, Murdoch.  There’s been a huge amount of trouble in Green River and we need someone to sort it out.”

“We’ll make it worth your while, Madrid.”  The weasly faced fellow gave an oily smile.  “Say, five hundred dollars worth your while.”

Murdoch turned a real interesting shade of purple.  Johnny figured he’d better say something before the old man had a chance. “You want me to sort out some trouble?”

“That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

Johnny let his gaze wander over them, a smile playing around his mouth.  “But I thought you didn’t want the likes of me in your valley.  What was it you said, something about me being a threat to good law abiding folk?  Something about me being scum?  And yet, here you all are, asking me to come and help you out?”

“We’re prepared to pay you a fair price to deal with those saddle tramps.  Five hundred dollars is a lot of money, Madrid.”

“Five hundred dollars?  Is that so?  Well, trouble is, I’m an awful expensive gun to hire.  And, I tell you, five hundred dollars just wouldn’t be enough to buy my gun to sort out a bunch of saddle tramps.  Seems to me there’s quite a crowd of you.  Get together, deal with it yourselves.  I guess you outnumber them.  You don’t need no hired gun.”

The oily man paled.  “We’re not gunmen, Madrid.  We’re law abiding ranchers.  What would we know about sorting out a band of ruffians?”

Johnny bowed his head briefly.  Scuffed the floor with the toe of his boot before looking back up at the man who was chewing on his lip like he was real nervous.  “Law abiding ranchers?  But I guess you all know one end of a gun from the other.  It’s your town, your problem.  Seems like you ain’t got a set of cojones between the lot of you.”

“OK, Madrid.  Seven hundred and fifty dollars.  That’s a lot of money.  Dealing with those men would be nothing to you.  There’s only five of them.”

Johnny stared back, not letting any expression show on his face.  “Only five of them.  And one of me.  As opposed to a whole town of menfolk.”

Donovan was tapping his hat in anger now.  “Seven hundred and fifty dollars, Madrid.  That’s an awful lot of money.  Particularly to a man like you.”

“Yeah, it is.  Just one small problem, you see.  I don’t hire out no more.  My old man there don’t like it.  So, if you take my advice, you’ll grow some balls, deal with it yourselves and then put your hands deep in your pockets and get yourselves a sheriff.  Now if you’ll all excuse me, I got some real pressing business to attend to.  It’s my siesta time.”  He turned and walked out of the room, his spurs jangling as he headed toward the stairs.

He smiled as he heard the outburst of voices in the Great Room.  “Murdoch, talk to him.  Make him see sense.”

“You tell that boy of yours to do his duty by the town.”

“Tell him he’s got to help us.  It would be an easy job to someone like him.”

Johnny paused at the foot of the stairs as he heard Murdoch’s voice.  “Will you all just keep quiet?  God.  Look at you all.  You’ve got one hell of a nerve coming here and demanding that Johnny risk his life to help you out.  Henry, Matt, and you, Will, you’ve all told me how you resent his presence here.  Told me I should send him packing.  Those were your words, I believe.  You didn’t want the likes of Johnny in this valley?  Well, I’ve got news for you all, he’s staying.  This is his home, where he belongs and he’s here to stay whether you like it or not.  And he doesn’t owe any of you anything.  And neither does he hire out any more.  So, I suggest you take his advice and deal with your problems yourselves.  If you hadn’t all been so tight fisted, and had paid for a sheriff, then maybe you wouldn’t have this problem.  Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have work to do, so out, now!”

Shit.  The old man really wasn’t a push over.  And it felt real good to hear him talking that way to all his old friends.  Like he thought his son was more important than they were.  Why?  Why did the old man back him?  Because they were on the same side, maybe?  That’s what Delice had said.  On the same side. 

He slipped his spurs off, so he could walk softly upstairs to his room.  He lay on the bed feeling like his head was going to burst.  So many things buzzing round in it.  But he wasn’t surprised that the men had come wanting to hire Madrid.  It was always the same.  Folk treated him like dirt until they needed him.  And then, once he’d fixed things, they wouldn’t want to know him again.  People were just shit.  Probably shit the world over.  Wouldn’t matter where a man went, folk would all be the same.  So no surprises there.  But Murdoch had sure surprised him.  And not for the first time. 

Footsteps were echoing along the passageway.  There was a knock on his door.  And all he wanted was to be left alone to think awhile.  “Yeah.” 

“Johnny.”  His father stepped into the room, his brow furrowed like he was worried.  “You all right?”

Johnny smiled.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  They gone?”

Murdoch nodded.  “I couldn’t believe their nerve coming here to ask you that.”

Johnny had to laugh.  “What else would they do?  They got trouble, they figure the easiest way to deal with it is to pay someone else to deal with it.  Do their dirty work for them.  That way they don’t soil their hands or risk their own skin.  It’s what folk are like.  It’s a small ugly world.  Full of small ugly people.”  Johnny shrugged and let out a long sigh.  “They don’t bother me none.  Used to it.  It’s just funny how quick people are to use me when mostly they cross the road rather than talk to me.”

He locked eyes with his father and shrugged again.  “It’s how it is.”

His father was silent for a moment, like he was trying to decide what to say.  “I suppose I’ve never really thought how difficult all of this is for you.  This different life.  For what it’s worth, Johnny, I was proud of you down there.  You handled it well.”  Murdoch gave him a brief smile.  “I’ll leave you, um, to have that siesta.” 

As the door closed Johnny fell back onto his bed, his gut churning and his heart feeling like it was going to bust out of his chest.  Couldn’t believe what the man had just said.  Said he was proud of him.  Proud.  And said it like he meant it.  Proud.  Johnny shook his head, tried to swallow the lump in his throat.  Couldn’t figure it at all.  All he’d done was tell them he wasn’t buying into their game.

Proud.  Didn’t think anyone had ever been proud of him.  Mama sure hadn’t been proud of her half breed.  Told him often enough that he was just a burden.  A load of fucking trouble.  Blue eyed trouble.  More trouble than he was worth, she’d said.  And just another mouth to feed.  Proud?  How could anyone be proud of him?  If his father knew what he was really like, he wouldn’t be proud.  Not if he knew Madrid. 

But his father had told those men his son was staying.  That he was home.  Where he belonged.  Shit.  Where he belonged?  Could he belong here?  Dios.  He just couldn’t figure all this.  He eased himself off the bed and went and stood at the window.  Looked out at the mountains across the valley.  The mountain he thought of as his seemed to stand out against all the rest, its oddly shaped peak catching the weak fall sun.  It always caught his eye.  Must have spent hours staring at it in the months he’d been back.  He loved it early in the morning when it was flushed pink by the fiery dawn.  Or when, swathed in cloud, the tip would peek out, seeming to call to him. 

He turned away, overwhelmed suddenly by the torrent of emotions swamping him.  Proud.  Where he belonged?  If only Mama had never left, life could have been different.  But surely the old man would see through him at some point?  No one could want Madrid, could they? No, at some point the old man would see him for what he was.  Pretty much worthless.  A priest had told him he was a damned soul.  And priests knew about things like that. 

But it still felt good, to think that even if it didn’t last, his father had said he was proud of him.  Him.  Johnny Madrid.  Shit.  Never thought he’d hear anyone say that.  Yet alone that mountain of a man who looked like he could carry the world on his shoulders.  He shook his head again.  Turning, he glimpsed himself in the mirror.  Had a kind of silly grin on his face.  Like he’d won first prize in a pissing contest. 

That barn still needed clearing.  There was a lot of work to be done over the next few days before Scott would return with the cows.  And hell, it wouldn’t do to piss the old man off by not pulling his weight.  He strapped his spurs back on.  They jingled as he hurried back down the stairs and he realised he was whistling.

 

Part Twelve

Boy, Teresa could sure witter on when she had a mind to.  And she had a mind to right now.  Going on about how she couldn’t see her friends ’cos the old man wouldn’t let her go into Green River.  Didn’t matter none.  All they did when they got together was giggle and whisper.  Dios.  If they had a drink and game of poker he could understand it.   But no, they’d just huddle together whispering.  Some of her friends had come to call at the ranch in the past.  He’d tried to be friendly.  Well, maybe not real friendly, but he’d tipped his hat to them.  An’ all they did was turn bright red like they’d been in the sun too long.

He forked another mouthful of Teresa’s stew.  He’d rather be eating Boston’s fancy rabbit than this.  And by the look on Boston’s face, he was thinking the same thing.  Poor old Boston.  Been out moving cows for days and he had to come back to a meal like this.  Pity it was Maria’s day off.  Leastways then they’d have gotten a proper meal.  Not stew. 

“Teresa, you are not going into Green River, and that’s final.”

The way the old man said it sure shut her up.  She turned bright red and her lip kind of trembled.  Dios.  Women. 

He thought maybe, just for once, he’d try and start some talk.  “When Scott and me were checking those lines up north, he cooked some rabbit.  Real fancy, Teresa, you should get him to teach you.”

“And what’s that meant to mean?”  Shit.  Now she was even redder in the face.  And looking real mad.  “Are you saying my cooking’s not good enough, Johnny?”

Shit.  He’d only mentioned the rabbit.  An’ Scott was raising his eyes like Johnny was dumb or something.  This was why it was safer not to start any talk at the table.  He always said the wrong thing.  “No.  I just said you should get him to teach you.  It was real good.  I thought you could add it to all them dishes you do.”

“To her repertoire.”  Scott said it real soft.  Like he was scared too.

“Murdoch, tell them to stop complaining about my cooking.  It’s not fair.  I do my best.”

The old man gave a big sigh, like he was pissed with all of them.  “Teresa, Johnny was not criticising your cooking.  He was simply telling us that Scott can apparently cook rabbit ‘real fancy’.”  The old man said the last bit like he was copying Johnny.

Johnny bit back a smile.  Teresa would probably throw something at him if he laughed.  And it never paid to piss off the person who cooked your food.  Scott had once pissed Maria off and the chilli verde had been so hot that night that even Johnny had found it hard to eat.

Teresa started banging the dishes around, carrying them off into the kitchen.  “That rabbit was real good.”  But he said it soft so only Murdoch and Scott heard.

They all went and sat down in the comfy chairs, leaving Teresa to bang around in the kitchen.  A dish went crashing on the floor and they all winced.

“Drink, boys?”  Murdoch went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a good measure. 

“I’ll join you in that.  I think we deserve it.”  Scott headed over to take a drink.

“Johnny?” 

But he shook his head.  Never did drink much.  The odd tequila but never much.  Drink loosened a man’s tongue.  And that was never a good thing.  ’Specially with the old man around.  He liked to keep a close watch on everything when Murdoch was there.  Never give anything away.  It was safer that way.

“You know,” Scott’s voice was sort of unsure, “I think we should do something about a sheriff for Green River.”

Murdoch nodded.  “I agree.  I was going to suggest that you ride to Stockton.  Advertise for one in the newspaper up there, and maybe send a couple of wires to other towns.  I was going to suggest that we carry the cost for three months.  Let people see the advantages and then let them take over the responsibility.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea.  What say you, Johnny?”

Johnny shrugged.  “Don’t see why it’s our problem.   We’re already down because of the Cattlemen and the shipments.  Let them pay.  They got plenty.”

Murdoch furrowed his brow, like he couldn’t decide what to say.  “I think it would smooth things over.  And it is in our interests to see things run smoother in town.  The hands like to go in there at the weekends.  It’s closer than Morro Coyo.  And it’s a growing town and we should encourage that.”

“And it will put Teresa in a good mood again and the cooking may improve.”  Scott winked at Johnny.

Murdoch smiled.  “Well, that too.”

Johnny kicked at the floor with his boot, noticing the mud still clinging to the heel.  “No sheriff will want to come in and sort that mess out.”

“Maybe they’ll move on.  They’ll get bored, and want some new entertainment.”

Johnny grunted at Murdoch’s words.  In his experience, people like these saddle tramps tended to stay put when they were getting things their own way.  And it didn’t look like the cattlemen had the balls to sort it out.  He had the feeling that at some point it would be down to him to sort out.  Still, the cattlemen could sweat a while longer.  Johnny Madrid wasn’t hurrying for no man.  Specially a bunch of tossers like the cattlemen.  He shrugged.  “Whatever you think best.”

“I’ll head off in the morning then.”  Scott looked all keen.  Dios, the man had a lot to learn about life out west.  Problems tended to need real men to sort them, not some fancy new sheriff or some fancy lawyer.  But then again, maybe Scott had a woman stashed in Stockton.  Now that would make much more sense and sure explain him being so keen to rush off to Stockton. 

“Yeah, Boston, you go tomorrow.  We can manage fine.”  Johnny grinned.  Shit, he was tired.  “I’m turning in.  I’ll see you before you leave.”

He headed upstairs to his room, thankful that the evening was over.  He still found meals real trying.  Never said the right thing, or didn’t say anything and that seemed to irritate everyone.  Still couldn’t see why they didn’t just concentrate on eating.  That’s what they were there for after all.

The moon was shining real bright, casting her comforting glow around his room.  He stood by the open window listening to the lowing of the cows and their calves.  There was a chill in the air at night now, signalling the changing of the season.  What would the ranch be like in winter?  Cold?  Or would it just rain all the time?  He’d rather it was cold.  Leastways a man could wrap up against that but at least the sun would still shine.  But he dreaded the rain.  The way it seemed to seep into him.  And grey skies seemed to drag him down.  Made him feel he was sinking down towards the bottom of something.   Made him feel even older.  He padded back to the bed and shrugged his clothes off onto the floor, but he placed the gun carefully under his pillow before crawling into bed.  Dios.  He was beat.  He’d never worked so hard in his life.  There had to be easier ways to make a living.  Ones that meant a man didn’t spend his life getting kicked by mule headed cows or breaking his back clearing dammed up streams. 

Why did Scott stay?  He had an education.  Man like that could do anything.  Become a lawyer or one of those men who did accounts.  Not that he could imagine anything more boring than being a lawyer.  But even so.  People like Scott seemed to find the strangest things real interesting.  Like he’d always got his nose stuck in a book.  Same as the old man.  He was always reading something.  Newspapers.  Books.  And Teresa.  Even she always seemed to be reading.  Except when she was mending the clothes or doing that God awful broidery.  Was that the right word?  Didn’t sound right.  Well, whatever it was called it looked a real mess.  And you could see all the stitches, sort of like crosses and things.

Shit.  He needed a woman.  Must need a woman if all he could think about was books and sewing.  And he couldn’t even go into Green River.  Fuck.   Heck, chance would be a fine thing.  Shivering, he pulled the covers round himself.  At least a girl would warm him up.  Sensible thing would be to close the window.  But it was too damn cold to get out of bed.  Snuggling down further, he settled down to sleep.

The ranch felt real quiet after Scott left for Stockton.  But there was so much work that he hardly had any time to call his own.  Felt like all he did was work, eat and sleep.  Teresa was still in a foul temper but at least Maria was doing the cooking.  She even made him some tamales.  Spicy tamales.  Better than fancy rabbit any day.

He was mending the big gate into the corral when he saw the rancher John Dove ride in.  Johnny waved his hand in greeting.  Dove was always pleasant to him.  Had made it clear he had no problem with Madrid.  Would always pass the time of day and seemed a nice fellow.  Not like the rest of the ranchers in the area.  Johnny gave the nail a savage swipe with the hammer.  No, the rest of the ranchers were pretty much shit.  He eased the gate back onto the hinge and checked its swing.  Made sure it was clearing the ground again.  He still had to mend the handle on the water pump.  Damn thing was always breaking.  But there was a real nip in the air and his hands were cold so maybe he’d go and grab a cup of coffee before he started.

He took his cup of coffee from the kitchen.  He could hear Murdoch and Dove talking in the Great Room.  He knew he should go and say hello to John Dove.  It would please the old man.  The oddest things seemed to please him.  He couldn’t figure it at all.  Couldn’t see that any of it mattered, still, it kept the old man sweet.  He ambled over, pausing in the doorway to listen to their conversation.

“It’s got worse there now, Murdoch.  A girl was raped yesterday.”

He went cold all over.  Felt like the blood was draining from every bit of him.  Barely heard Murdoch’s answer.  Then Dove was speaking again.  “No, no one we know, one of the whores from that bordello.  But thank God Scott’s gone to Stockton.  That town needs some law before things get even worse.”

He could feel the sweat trickling down his face.  And that made no sense because he was cold.  And he felt like he was going to puke on the floor.  He turned and stumbled up the stairs to his room.  Fell onto the bed, curling up into a ball.

Mother of God, no.  This was all his fault.  Shit, all of it was his fault.  He’d known he’d have to sort things out.  All along he’d known he’d have to do it.  If he’d just done it straight off this wouldn’t have happened.  But oh no, Madrid had to be smart.  He’d wanted those ranchers begging for his help.  Wanted them to sweat, them and all the rest of the people in that town who thought they were better than Madrid.

How could he not have seen this coming?  All the signs were there.  And he’d known it would get ugly.  And he should have dealt with it.  But no, Madrid had wanted to show the people of Green River that he was more of a man than the whole fucking lot of them.  Let the women see that their menfolk hadn’t got a set of balls between the lot of them.

Which of the girls had it been?  Oh God, no, please, not one of the girls.  Oh fuck.  Shit.  Shit.  Shit.  He banged his fist down hard, bursting the pillow.  And it was all Madrid’s fault.  Why couldn’t he have just handled things straight off?  It would have been all right then.  None of the girls would have been hurt.  They’d all be safe.  And now, no one was fucking safe and it was his fault.

He hauled himself upright, took some deep breaths to get his heart beating normal again.  Instead of trying to bust out of his chest.  Shut his eyes to try and block out the pain in his head.  Tried to relax.  More deep breaths.  He walked to the drawer where he kept the fighting gun and dismantled it quickly.  He’d only cleaned it the day before but he needed to check it.  He spun the chamber and then loaded it carefully.  He felt more in control now.  The feel of the gun calmed him as he checked it again and then weighed it in his hand before sliding it into the cut away holster which he fastened tightly round his hips.  And then tightened again.  The familiar action soothed him as he felt Madrid slipping into him and taking over.  He fastened the holster to a concho, checking it twice.  He didn’t want that holster moving even a fraction in what lay ahead.  Then he checked his other gun and placed it carefully inside his jacket.  Along with a single black glove. 

Next he bent to check the knives in his boot and as he straightened he glimpsed himself in the mirror.  It was like Johnny Lancer had never existed.  The man in the mirror was Madrid.  The cold, expressionless eyes stared back at him.  No mercy there.  Just the stare of an ice cold killer.  Who would have his revenge. 

He shut the door of Johnny Lancer’s room and walked downstairs.  No sign of Dove now.  He must have left.  Gone to tell others the news.  But the old man was there, sitting behind his desk.  He looked up at Madrid.  Saw the gun.  Turned pale.  “You overheard John Dove.”  It was a statement, not a question.

Madrid nodded.  “I’m going into town.”

The old man looked riled now.  “Johnny, this is not your fight.  We’ll send for the law.  It’s up to the law to deal with this situation.”

“As long as those men are walking and breathing, there ain’t a woman safe in that town.  And I ain’t waiting for no fucking marshall.”

“The men will make sure their wives and daughters stay inside.  Thank God it wasn’t some innocent young girl.  At least it was only a whore.”

“Only a whore?”  Madrid’s voice was at its coldest now.

“You know what I mean, it could have been worse.”

“Only a whore?  You know, I’m going to do you a very big favour and try and forget you ever said that.”

“Damn it, Johnny, you know perfectly well what I mean.  Of course I’m not saying that it didn’t matter because it was a whore.  I’m just saying it would have been worse if it was some innocent young girl.”

“Like the daughter of one of those fancy ranchers.  Because they’re more important than a whore.  Well, I tell you, a lot of my friends are whores, and I’ll take them any time over some fancy stuck up innocent girls who think they’re better than everyone else.”

“I didn’t say they were more important.”  The old man sounded real tired.

“No.  But you were thinking it.  Now, I’m riding into town.”  He turned and walked to the door.  His spurs jingling like a death march at some fancy funeral.

“Johnny.  Be careful.  And please, I know you don’t usually, but can you come back tonight.  Let me know you’re safe.” 

He glanced across the room.  Saw the pain in the old man’s eyes.  Shit.  He gave a slight nod.  “Yeah.  I’ll be back.”  And he went and saddled Barranca and rode into town.

 

Part Thirteen

The town was quiet and shuttered when he rode in.  Some tumbleweed blew along the deserted sidewalks and there was little sign of life.  But then he noticed the drapes moving at some of the windows as people peered out, watching him ride in.  Seemed like everyone was staying behind their own doors for safety.   He tethered Barranca at a hitching rail near one of the stores.  Then he turned and walked to the store belonging to the town’s mayor.  What the hell was the man’s name?  Something like Higgs?  Well, whatever his name, he was just a lump of lard and twice as useless.

He pushed open the door to see a group of the cattlemen deep in conversation with the mayor.  He stood in the doorway, enjoying the deathly hush that fell as they all turned to look at him.  “G’ morning.”  He spoke real soft, so they almost had to strain to hear him.  He was going to enjoy this.  Make them all sweat. 

“Madrid.  What are you doing in town?”  Matt Dixon was eyeing him angrily.

“Heard you had a spot of trouble.”

Now the whole bunch of them were looking real hopeful.  “You’ve reconsidered our offer?  You’ll sort this out?”  Henry Carter was looking real smug at the thought of that.

“Well, that rather depends, don’t it?”  He stepped into the room, letting the door bang shut behind him.  They all jumped, startled by the sudden noise.  Yeah, he was going to enjoy making them all sweat.

“Depends on what?”  It was the ugly bull headed one.  Who the hell was that fellow?  Well, didn’t matter.  He might not know who he was, but he could tell what he was.

“Well, like I told you before.  I’m an awful expensive gun to hire.”

“We offered you seven hundred and fifty dollars.  That’s an awful lot of money, Madrid.  Especially to a man like you.”

Johnny stared at them, letting his gaze linger on each one.  “Like I said, I’m an awful expensive gun to hire.  Question is, can you afford me?”

“How much more do you want?  Damn it, seven hundred and fifty dollars is a small fortune.”  Yeah.  He knew Henry Carter would be the first to get really riled.  Had a real short fuse.

Johnny narrowed his eyes, like he was considering things real hard.  “Five of them, you say?   Well, I reckon at two hundred and fifty dollars a man that makes twelve fifty.”

“Are you mad, Madrid?  We’re not going to pay you that sort of money.”  The mayor was looking all puffed up and angry now.  And spluttering. 

Johnny shrugged.  “Fine.”  And he turned and walked toward the door, only his spurs breaking the silence.  And then the clamour of voices.

“You can’t just leave, Madrid.  You got to sort this out for us.” 

“Surely we can negotiate, Madrid.”

“Where do you think we’d find that kind of money?”

Johnny turned and looked back at them.  “I ain’t negotiating.  That’s the price, take it or leave it.  Seems to me there’s enough cattlemen and store keepers to get together to pay my fee.  But then again, maybe you ain’t worried about that pretty little daughter of yours, Mayor.  And you, Donovan, ain’t you got a couple of daughters?  Might be them next.  Still, ain’t no concern of mine.”  And he started to open the door.

“Come back, Madrid.  I’m sure we can sort something out.”  The mayor was on his feet, sweating real good now.

“Like what?”  He kept his voice real cold.  Looked at them all like they were just boring him.

“How about half up front and the rest when you’ve done the job?”

Johnny laughed.  “Well, that ain’t how it works.  Hell, I might not live long enough to collect and think how sorry you’d all be then.  Tell you what, I’ll go and sit outside a while, and you can talk it over.  But it’s twelve hundred and fifty.  Up front.”

“But we need time, Madrid.  Even if we do agree to your outrageous demand, we need time to raise that sort of money.”  A vein was pulsing in Carter’s forehead.

Johnny looked at him, his eyes cold as ice.  “Outrageous demand?  You want me to gun down five men.  And you know, if you piss me off, Carter, the price will be going up to fifteen hundred.  The bank’s open. Think on it.  I’ll be outside.”

Well, that sure shut them up.  He walked out and sat down on the chair outside the store.  He tilted his hat down over his eyes, and leaned back in the chair, pushing it back onto two legs against the wall.  Somehow, he didn’t think he’d have long to wait.  The door of the store swung open as one of the cattlemen went scurrying down the street.  Another one came out, heading in the other direction.  And then another, heading towards the bank.  Johnny smiled.  See how they run.  All sweating, trying to raise the money.  But they could afford it.  Wouldn’t cost them very much at all if they all chipped in.  But it could cost him a great deal.  He pushed that thought out of his mind.  Instead, he concentrated on the buzz he was starting to get.  He could feel his blood starting to flow faster.  And he had all those fucking cattlemen sweating.  Dios.  That felt good.

It didn’t take them long.  He reckoned he didn’t sit there more than twenty minutes before they were all back in the store.  He waited.  Whistling softly.  This was his game and he’d play it his way.

The bull headed man called him in.  They were all standing round the desk and the mayor held out an envelope.  “It all there, Madrid.  No need to count it.”

Johnny held his hand out for the money and then perched on the side of the shop counter, counting the notes.  “Seems none of you can count.  It’s thirty dollars short.  So, the price just went up.  We’ll round it up to thirteen hundred, seeing as how you’re really pissing me off.  But I’m sure if you all dig down in your pockets, and the mayor empties that till, you’ll find the extra.”

Johnny watched, not letting any emotion show on his face, as they all scratched together for the remainder.

The mayor was sweating.  So was Carter and the rest of them.  Any minute now they’d be pissing themselves.  Johnny held his hand out for the remainder of the money.  Stood up and walked to the door.  “I’d like to say it was a pleasure doing business with you, but I’d be lying.”

“When will you sort them, Madrid?”

Johnny turned, gave them all a cold smile.  “Today.  I keep my end of a bargain.”

He let the door go with another satisfying bang, hesitating only briefly outside, before walking to the far end of town and the bordello.  There were no folk on the streets.  Just him. 

He pushed the door open and scanned the room.  A few of the girls were sitting huddled together in the corner.  There was a heavy, dull sort of feel in the room.  They gave him weak sort of smiles but didn’t get up.  He tipped his hat and walked through to the back, to Delice’s office.  She was sitting behind her desk, looking at books of figures.  She glanced up as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

“What are you doing in town at this time of the day?” But there was no spark in her voice.  And the look in her eyes was the look of a woman who’d had enough.

“Which of the girls was it?  Which one?” 

She sat back in her chair with a sigh.  “Lizzie.  She was out running an errand.  An errand for me.  She’d only popped out for a few minutes.  Three of those saddle tramps grabbed her.  People must have heard her scream but no one went to help.  If only I hadn’t sent her on that errand.”

Johnny stared down at the floor, scuffing up the rug with his boot.  If only.  Life was full of if onlys.  “And no one went to help.”  He kicked the rug, but savagely this time.  “Well, they wouldn’t, would they, ’cos there ain’t one man in this town with any balls.”  He sighed.  There was a real pain in his gut now, felt like it was ripping right into him.  “She all right?”

Delice shrugged.  “I guess it could have been worse.  They’ve knocked her around a fair bit, but I think she’ll be all right.”  Delice gave a humourless laugh.  “All right.  That’s a joke.  But what does it matter, we’re just whores.”  He saw the challenge in her eyes.  Felt a lump in his throat. 

“It’s life though, ain’t it?  There’s them that get trodden on and them that do the treading.”  He reached into his pocket and took the envelope out.  Handed it to her.  She looked at it curiously.  “What’s this?”

“It’s for Lizzie.  Tell her I’m sorry.  This is all my fault.”

Delice opened the envelope, her eyes opening wider as she saw the large wad of notes.  She looked at him, real sharp.  “There has to be over a thousand dollars here.  What do you mean, this is all your fault?  How the hell is this your fault?”

He grimaced.  Could feel himself colouring up.  “I should have dealt it with it before it came to this.”  His voice came out more like a whisper.  Delice was looking at him like he was stupid or something.

“What do you mean, you should have dealt with it?”

“They asked me.  More than a week ago, they asked me to deal with it.  I knew those tramps were trouble but I wanted those cattlemen begging for my help.”  He couldn’t meet her gaze.  Felt like shit.  It was all his fault.  “Tell her I’m sorry.”  He still couldn’t look at Delice.  Didn’t want to see the contempt that he knew he’d see.  He waited for her to yell at him.

She was tapping the envelope on the desk.  Felt like he’d felt when he was in front of the firing squad.  Wished she’d just yell at him now.  Get it over with.

“What the hell am I going to do with you?”  It was odd but she sounded irritated more than angry.  “Johnny.  This is not your fault.”

He looked up.  “Yeah, it is my fault.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!  Did you hold a gun to the heads of those saddle tramps?  Did you tell them to go find a girl and rape her?  Were you there egging them on?”

“I should have done something sooner.  I knew there’d be trouble.”  He seemed to have lost his voice again. 

Delice raised her eyes like she was looking to heaven.  Gave a big sigh.  “This was not your responsibility.  God!  How can I make you understand?  It was up to the town to look out for its own.  Deal with its own problems.  It should have had a sheriff here a long time ago but they’re too mean to pay for one.  Lots of people have raised the subject of a sheriff, but nothing ever gets done.  And if some of the lily livered cowards came knocking on your door you were right to turn them away.  It wasn’t your battle.  In case you’ve forgotten, you are no longer a gun for hire.  You’ve hung up your gun, remember?  You’re Johnny Lancer, a rancher, not a gunfighter.”

He looked at her, wondered how best to explain.  She sure looked mad.  He shook his head.  “Johnny Lancer?  No, I guess he really did die a long time ago, if he ever existed at all.  I’m Johnny Madrid and I guess I always will be.  It’s too late for anything else.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”  She sounded real snappy.  Sorry for himself?  What the hell was that meant to mean? 

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I’m just telling it like it is.”

“Rubbish.  You are an intelligent and compassionate man, and you can be anything you want to be.  Yes, part of you will always be Johnny Madrid but there’s another man inside you struggling to get out and it’s high time you recognised that.”

“I ain’t intelligent – I haven’t had any schooling.”

“Do not confuse intelligence with education.”  Dios.  She sounded like she was a preacher or something.

“Johnny.”  Her voice was softer now, and so were her eyes.  “Honey, believe me.  You can be anything you want.  It isn’t too late.  You’re a good man.  Even if you were a gunfighter!”  She said the last bit in a teasing kind of way.  And that had him really confused.

“What about the business in Bitterville?  You were quick enough to suggest I let the law deal with that.”

She smiled.  “Yes, but we both agreed that the law wouldn’t have cared about a couple of Mexican cowhands.  And really, your action was only that of someone seeking justice.  Your heart was in the right place.”

He ran his hand through his hair.  Tried to figure things out but it felt like too much effort right then.  He could feel her eyes boring into him.  Maybe he’d better get off the subject of whether his heart was in the right place.  He could think of far too many times when it hadn’t been.

He nodded towards the envelope.  “You’ll give that to Lizzie?”

Delice gave a short laugh.  “Yes, honey, I’ll give it to Lizzie.  It’s a fortune to a girl like her.”

Johnny shrugged.  “She’ll be able to get a fresh start.  Go somewhere new, maybe get a business going.  Somewhere no one knows her.”

“You see what I mean, honey?  You are a compassionate man.”  She looked down at the envelope again.  Her brow was furrowed now.  “Shit!  This is your fee isn’t it?  I was so busy being cross with you that it didn’t register.”  She looked at him and he could see the fear in her eyes.  “Honey, you shouldn’t be doing this.  There’s at least five of those men hanging around.  And just one of you.”

He shrugged.  “I can handle it.  I’ve handled worse than that before.”

“Yes.  I suppose you have.”  She sounded kind of sad as she spoke. 

She stared down at the money, chewing on her lip like she was nervous or something.  “Johnny, will you come in here afterwards?”

He thought about the reputation he had for always whoring after a killing.  But not after this one.  This was different.  “I don’t think I’ll be in the mood for that today.”

She looked puzzled for a second and then seemed to bite back a smile, like she figured his meaning.  “No, that wasn’t quite what I meant.  I just meant, come and let us know you’re OK.  That you’re safe.”

Dios.  Seemed that lots of folk were suddenly worrying over him.  Which was kind of nice.  But it wasn’t the time to think of that.  He’d got a job to do.  And he was going to deal with things, just like he’d always known he would.

He nodded.  “Yeah, I’ll come in after.  Let you know I’m OK.”

She smiled.  “Thank you, the girls and I would appreciate that.  And, I’ll go and give this to Lizzie.”  She stood up.  “Be careful, honey.  Please.”

 

Part Fourteen

He stood outside the bordello deciding how to play things.  The street was deserted but he could sense the tension in the air.  Like the town was waiting for something.  Waiting for Madrid.  He needed to distance himself now.  Put the talk with Delice out of his mind.  Let Madrid take control.

The men were probably in the saloon by now.  He’d rather leave things a little longer.  Let them have more to drink.  It would make his job easier.  But he didn’t want them to know he was in town.  And some big mouthed tosser might say something.  Shit.

It would suit the cattlemen very well if he got killed in the process of sorting out their troubles.  And he had no intention of giving them the satisfaction.  Fuck that. 

He wanted to take a look at who he was up against.  Size them up.  ‘Cos even if they were just saddle tramps, there were still five of them and five was five whichever way you looked at it.  He had no intention of letting five saddle bums take him out.  Fuck that.  Madrid wasn’t that obliging.  He walked with slow measured steps towards the saloon.  He could feel the buzz now, starting to build.  He needed that.  Needed to feel the rush which gave him his edge, made him feel he could take anything and anybody.  And he wanted revenge.  Revenge for poor damaged Lizzie. 

He remembered her now.  Knew he’d had her, but she wasn’t one of his regular girls.  And now he was going to make those men pay.  Just like he’d made the town pay.

He stood briefly in the shadows outside the saloon.  The doors needed a coat of paint and hung lopsided on their hinges, swinging slightly in the breeze.  Then he ambled on past, giving a casual glance inside.  Or casual to anyone watching.  But he didn’t miss a thing.  The men were standing at one end of the bar, talking loudly amongst themselves and ignoring the other drinkers.  And there weren’t many of those.  Seemed even the town drunks were steering clear of the saddle tramps.  He walked on and stood just out of sight, chewing on his stampede string.  He took out the old watch that Murdoch had given him.  Never went anywhere without it now.  It was just after one.  The men weren’t drunk yet.  He’d give it a little longer.  He slipped the watch back into the pocket in his belt, relishing the feel of the worn old timepiece. 

Even so, he’d miscalculated on this one.  He should have left all this to later in the day.  But no, Madrid had been all fired up earlier.  Come rushing into town for revenge.  Instead, he should have stayed cool.  Waited a while.  He was getting sloppy.  Losing his touch.   Now he was here, and half the town knew he was here, he couldn’t afford to wait too long.  Didn’t want the men getting wind of his presence.  And he sure as hell didn’t trust the town folk to keep their mouths shut.  They’d be only too glad to see Madrid taken down in this.  He had no intention of giving them the satisfaction.  Still, he could wait until the men had enjoyed another round of drinks.

There was a chair along the sidewalk so he went and sat down, tipped his hat over his eyes and waited.  And planned his first move.  The rush was getting stronger and he was starting to feel good about what lay ahead.  He sat back, relishing the feeling of his blood pounding through his body and the feeling of excitement growing stronger by the minute.  Dios, he felt good.  He closed his eyes briefly, loving the sensations flooding his body, knowing Madrid was back in control.  And it was time for Madrid to get even.

He stood, ready for this now and looking forward to it.  He walked purposefully to the saloon, pausing only briefly in the entrance to scan the room.  Only the most committed of the town’s drunks were there.  The saddle tramps at the far end of the bar were sure having a bad effect on the saloon profits, seemed most folk were too scared to venture in.  But that was a bonus.  Leastways if things kicked off in the bar there wouldn’t be so many bystanders to worry about.

The men barely glanced at him as walked towards the bar.  Instead they carried on bragging and talking to one another.  The barman’s eyes had widened in recognition as Johnny walked in.  He was licking his lips nervously.  “What will you have, Mr M...”

Johnny cut across him.  The last thing he needed was some fool of a bar tender to call him Madrid.  He’d do that himself when he was good and ready.  “A beer.”

The man pushed a beer towards him, his hands trembling slightly as he did so.  Dios.  This town was full of cowards.

Johnny leaned against the bar, his drink untouched in front of him.  He watched the men in the corner, his gaze never leaving them, and waited for them to notice.  It didn’t take long.

“What you looking at, mister?”  A skinny runt of a man was looking at him, like he wanted a fight.

Johnny smiled slowly.  That would be fine by him, it just wouldn’t be the sort of fight that this piece of shit had in mind.  “You.”  He spoke softly.

The man scowled, cracked his knuckles.  “Well, unless you’re looking for trouble, just mind your own business.  Else I might be tempted to make you wear that drink.”  His friends laughed loudly, like the fellow had said something real funny.

“You could try, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”  Johnny kept his voice real soft so they had to strain to hear him.

The men laughed, louder this time.  “You wouldn’t recommend it.”  One of them tried to mimic him.  “Hear that, Wade, he wouldn’t recommend it.”

Wade swung himself round to look Johnny square in the eyes.  “You know, boy, I think we’re going to have to teach you some manners.  Kinda give you a lesson you won’t forget.  Or, if you’re real unlucky you won’t even live to regret.”

“OK.”  Johnny smiled.  “But it might be cleaner outside.  I’d hate for the bartender to have to clean up your brains off the floor when I’ve finished with you.  That’s always supposing you got any brains between the lot of you.”

That seemed to get ’em riled up.  Wade gave a grunt of rage.  “You bit of shit.  Me and the boys really are going to enjoy teaching you a lesson.  And it’ll be your brains blown over the floor, mister.”

Johnny sucked in his breath, real thoughtful.  “Oh, I doubt that.  I really do.  I think I can handle five bits of shit like you.”

That did the trick.  They were all getting really steamed up.  Yeah, real mad.  And they thought it was going to be so easy.  He was going to enjoy disappointing them on that score.

“You do, do you?”  It was the runt again.  He had a real big mouth for such a small man.  “Well, you gotta shock coming, cowboy.  And what name should we put on your tombstone?”

Oh boy, he loved this part.  He narrowed his eyes and moved away from the bar.  So they could see his rig real clear – all tied down like the professional he was.  “My name?”  He spoke real soft now.  And smiled real slow.  “My name?  It’s Madrid.  Johnny Madrid.”

That sure put the cat among the pigeons.  Their faces showed a mixture of fear and disbelief.  A couple of them backed off slowly, muttering to each other in low voices.  But one of the group, with a gut which said he drank way too much, said: “He ain’t Madrid.  He’s bluffing.  Madrid’s dead.  I know he’s dead.  Heard all about it.  Got himself killed by some firing squad down Mexico way.  This is just some fool of a cowboy who thinks he’s smart.”

“I dunno, Clint.  That rig looks real professional.”  The runt was looking nervous.  Kinda twitchy.  Good, once they got twitchy they screwed up.  Made mistakes.

Johnny settled back against the bar.  Dios, he was enjoying this.  His whole body was tingling, every part of him seemed more alive.  He was running this show and he loved the feeling of power, of being in control.  Nobody fucked with Madrid.

They were all staring at him.  Not sure what to make of him.  So, he just carried on leaning against the bar, a slight smile playing around his lips.  Real relaxed.  And he knew that would get to them.  It always got to people.  Wrong footed them.  Just the way he wanted.

“Nah.”  Wade was swaggering.  Trying to look real tough.  “He ain’t Madrid.  Anyhow, what would Madrid want with us, even if he was still alive?”

“Yeah.”  Clint had to have his say, he was that type.  “Like I said, Madrid’s dead.  So let’s just teach this prick a lesson.  One he won’t live to remember.”

“OK.”  Johnny shrugged, like he didn’t care either way.  “In here or out there?”  He nodded towards the doors.  “Like I said, kind of a shame to make a mess in here.”

The runt still looked nervous.  “He’s awful sure of himself, Wade.  You sure Madrid’s dead?”

Wade gave an ugly scowl.  “You doubting my word, Hank?  Of course Madrid’s dead.  And even if he wasn’t, which he is, he don’t come this far north of the border.  And he wouldn’t care about us.  We’ve done nothing to piss off the likes of Madrid.”

Johnny sighed.  Shook his head like he was real sad.  “Now, you see, that’s where you’re wrong.”  His expression hardened.  Looked at them like he’d stumbled over a real rotten coyote.  “You see, I hear you had your way with a friend of mine and she sure didn’t welcome your attentions.  I think the law calls it rape.  And I don’t take too kindly to bullies who make war on women.  Bullies like you five bits of shit.”

“A friend of yours.”  Wade sneered.  “Just some whore.  So it ain’t rape anyway.  She was just giving us a free sample.”

They all laughed at this, like it was a real good joke.  “Yeah, just showing us the wares.  Not that she was up to much.   But we gave her a go anyhow.”  They laughed again.

Johnny stared at them.  Not letting any expression show on his face.  “Like I said, she’s a friend of mine.  So, I was planning on killing you all, kind of like a free sample of my particular talents.  And then, I got real lucky, ’cos all the folk in this town clubbed together and paid me a whole lot of money to make the world a better place by killing you all.  Now ain’t that just the icing on the cake?”  Johnny smiled as they all started looking a hell of a lot more nervous now.  “And, just so you know who’s sending you to hell, it takes more than a firing squad to finish me off.  And if they couldn’t manage it, I don’t see a bunch of saddle tramps doing any better.  So, like I said, in here or out there?”

They were starting to sweat, licking their lips and casting glances at each other, not sure to believe him or not.  The saloon felt stiflingly hot and Johnny could smell their fear.  He loved this.  The scent of fear and the tension rising and his blood pounding.

The atmosphere and menace had got through the alcoholic haze of the town drunks.  They were scuttling out of the saloon like cockroaches.  All except one, sunk in the corner, asleep in a drunken stupor.  Johnny made a mental note to try and keep the shooting clear of the drunk if things kicked off in the saloon.  And he intended to make sure they would.  It would provide him with more cover.  Perhaps now was the time to help things along a little.

“Ask the barkeep who I am.”  He nodded towards the man who was cowering at the other end of the bar, ready to duck for cover when necessary.

“You ain’t Madrid.”  Wade was trying to sound tough again.  He turned to the bar tender.  “Who is this prick?  You ever seen him before?”

The barman looked at Johnny, his frightened eyes pleading for permission to speak.  Johnny gave him the benefit of his broadest smile.  “Yeah, go ahead.  Tell ’em who I am.  I don’t try and keep it a secret.”

The barkeep swallowed hard, all nervous.  “He’s Madrid.  Johnny Madrid.”  And he ducked down below the bar.

“So?”  Johnny smiled at them.  “Where do you losers fancy your chances best?”

Before Wade could answer, the runt made a move towards his gun.  Amateur.  The thought flashed through Johnny’s mind as he saw the fellow didn’t even have his gun tied down right.  The blood was pounding as he went for his own gun.  It was in his hand in one fluid motion and he took the runt out with one clean shot right in the chest.  Fanning the trigger, he swung round firing at the others.  As they fell it almost seemed as though everything was happening real slow and he felt a surge of power.  Relishing the feeling he threw himself towards a table for cover.  But as he moved he felt a searing hot pain tearing at his flesh and in his side.  Felt like it was on fire deep inside.  Fuck.  It hurt so much he almost lost his grip for a second.  Had to keep his mind on the job.  He reached inside his jacket for the second gun, whirling around to make sure he’d finished them all off.  It had been Wade who got him.  Although he was down, even now he was aiming again at Johnny.  Finger on the trigger.  Johnny flung himself sideways and finished Wade off with a shot to the head.  Bull’s eye.  The man’s brains were splattered across the room.

The reek of cordite, piss and shit filled the room.  The barman was still hiding somewhere and the drunk still slept.

Waves of pain were sweeping over him now.  His side was sticky and wet.  He grabbed a towel from the bar and thrust it inside his jacket which he then did up real tight.  Tried to stand up straight.  No way would he give the people of Green River the satisfaction of knowing he’d been hit.  But fuck, it hurt.  He had to breathe in short bursts as each fresh wave of pain swept over him.  He knew the bullet hadn’t gone straight through.  It was sitting inside him eating into his core.  He needed to get it out.  Fast.

The barkeep crawled out of his hidey hole and peered cautiously around the saloon.  His eyes widened with wonder as he saw the five bodies strewn like ragdolls across the floor.

Standing straight, Johnny tipped his hat to him.  “Sorry about the mess.”  His soft drawl sounded steady.  Not giving anything away.  Not showing how bad he was hurting.  “But I’m sure the good town folk will chip in to pay for the damages.”  With a nod he walked out of the bar.  Bolt upright, like he hadn’t a care in the world.

He needed to get to Barranca.  Get out of town, deal with the bullet.  No way would he let folk see him go to Sam’s place.  Fuck that.

Delice.  Shit.  He’d promised her he’d go in.  Let her know he was OK.  That was all he needed right now.  But a promise was a promise.  And he always kept his promises.

People were coming out of their houses now.  Watching him.  He ignored the expressions of fear and awe on their faces.  Just walked straight and steady towards the bordello.  Never let people see he’d been hit.  Never let them see the pain.

He’d never realised how long that street was.  Felt he’d walked twenty miles by the time he reached the bordello.  He pushed open the door.  The girls were huddled together, their faces pale and drawn.  Delice stood at the door to her office, watching him with those cool green eyes. 

“It’s over.”  He spoke softly and was grateful that his voice came out steady.  But shit, he was hurting now.  Needed to get out.  Fast.  He turned to leave, just needed to get to Barranca now.

“I’d like a word before you go.” 

He paused, shut his eyes briefly.  That was all he needed.  “Some other time, Delice.  OK?”  His voice still sounded steady but the pain was getting worse.

“It won’t take a minute.  Perhaps you could come into my office?  Now.”  There was a hard edge to her voice.  He tried to think how he could get out of it, but he wasn’t thinking too good right now.

He sighed.  Just get it over as quickly as possible.  Then he could escape.  Deal with the bullet.  He walked across the room, managing not to sway, but it was taking all his energy to stay upright.  He could feel her watching him, her eyes boring into him.  She followed him into her office and closed the door behind them.

“What was it you wanted?”  He tried to sound casual.  If only she’d just say what she wanted to say and then he could leave.  His side was burning up and the pain was getting worse.  But she still didn’t speak, just looked at him through narrowed eyes.  Looked him up and down like she was searching for something.

“So what do you want?”  His voice came out angrier than he meant it to.  He tried again.  “You said you wanted a word?”  Yeah, that came out better.

“Take your jacket off.”

 

Part Fifteen

He felt his chest tighten.  Shit.  Did she suspect something?  She couldn’t, could she?  He was acting normal.  She couldn’t know.  Just play it cool.  He laughed.  “Sorry, Delice but I really ain’t in the mood for that sort of thing right now.  Some other time, maybe.”

He took a step towards the door.  He had to get out.  Just hoped he could stay on his feet long enough to make it to Barranca.

She gave an exasperated sigh.  “I said, take your jacket off.”  She sounded real hard, like she wasn’t someone to mess with.  She had her arms folded and she was staring at him like she could see right inside him.  Shit.

He clenched his jaw.  Maybe he should just tell her to fuck off.  Mind her own business.

“Johnny, take the jacket off.” 

There was no getting out of this.  Slowly, painfully, he shrugged the jacket off, trying not to flinch.  His shirt was sodden with blood.  Teresa would be real pissed off about that.  Delice didn’t look surprised though.  She just continued to look at him, her face expressionless.

“And just what were you intending to do about that?”   She sounded real cool.  Nothing ever seemed to surprise or shock her.

“Just a flesh wound.  I’ll patch it up myself.”

“A flesh wound?”  Judging from the tone of her voice, she wasn’t buying into that one.  “You’ll patch it up yourself?”

“It won’t be the first time.”  He felt angry now.  But odd, instead of looking pissed with him because he’d sounded real snappy, she just looked kinda sad. 

“Not the first time?  No, honey, I don’t suppose it is.”  She was silent for a second and when she spoke again she sounded different.  Impatient.  “For God’s sake, sit down before you fall down.  Let me have a look.”

“No!  I said I’ll deal with it and I will.”

She looked at him like he was some irritating little kid or something.  “I’ll send for Sam.  In case it has escaped your memory, we do have a doctor in this town.  I believe you’re acquainted with him.”  She knew damn well he was acquainted with him.

“No.  You ain’t sending for Sam.”

“Why ever not?  You need a doctor.  Why don’t you want to see him?”

“Won’t give folk the satisfaction.”  His voice came out weak.  Shit, he was hurting bad.

She wrinkled her brow, looked real puzzled.  “What on earth are you talking about?  What satisfaction?”

“Them knowing I got shot.  Don’t want anyone to know.”  He kicked his boot against the desk.  Fought to stop himself showing how much pain he was in.

“You don’t want anyone to know?”  She seemed to be thinking about that one but didn’t look too impressed.  “Why?  Because Johnny Madrid is invincible?”

Where the hell was vincible?  And why was he in it?  Seemed easier to just shrug.  But then he shut his eyes as a huge wave of pain swept over him.  When he opened them again she was looking real worried.

“I’ll send the lad from the kitchen for Sam.  Don’t worry, I’ll say I’m not feeling well.  No one will know it’s for you.”

“I don’t want the girls to know.”  His voice came out as a whisper.  “You know they talk.  They’ll let it slip to someone.”

She paused at the door.  “Trust me.  No one will know.”

She left him alone in the book lined office.  Even through the pain he couldn’t help noticing how many books there were lining the walls.  Everyone seemed to read damn books.  And she sure had an awful lot of them.

He tried to lift his shirt to see how bad the wound was, but he hadn’t got the energy.  He’d try again in a few minutes.  Maybe he’d feel better then.  He closed his eyes, tried to clear his mind and block out the pain.  He was getting too old for all of this.  He was so fucking tired.  And now, that buzz he loved so much had gone leaving him empty inside.  Same as always.  But the pain was like it was eating into him.  He didn’t think he could wait for Sam.  He might be out seeing to someone else.  And he was hurting too much to wait.

He struggled to reach down into his boot for the special knife he kept for things like this.  But the tequila was in his saddle bags.  Shit.  He knew he should slosh some alcohol over the knife.  Luke had always drummed that into him.  Always alcohol on the knife first and on the wound.  He was reaching into his jacket for the needle and thread when Delice came back.

“He shouldn’t be too long. . .”  She broke off.  Looked at the knife curiously.  Then at him.  “That’s a scalpel.  A surgeon’s knife.”  She gave him a long hard look.  “You carry that around with you?”  She sounded like she couldn’t believe it.

“Oh, yeah.  I’m real handy with a knife.”  He tried to sound casual about it.  “Isn’t everyone?”

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him.  Looked fairly pissed with him.  “I’ve sent the girls upstairs to clean the rooms and do some mending.  They won’t see Sam come in.”

Even as she spoke they heard Sam calling out for her.  “Delice?  Anyone around?”

She opened the office door.  “I’m in here, Sam.”

“I had a message that you weren’t feeling too good.  What seems to be the problem?”

“That’s the problem.”  She nodded her head in Johnny’s direction. 

Sam’s eyes widened as he saw the blood soaked shirt and then he gave a worried frown.  “What the hell happened?  I heard you were OK.  Strolled out of the saloon like you hadn’t a care in the world.  Why didn’t you come straight to my office?”  Sam sounded pissed with him too.  Seemed like everyone was today.  Before he could think of a smart answer, Delice chipped in with her two cents worth.

“Well, Sam, it seems that Mr Madrid didn’t want the people of Green River to know that he got shot.  He has his reputation to think of, you know.  The invincible Madrid – untouchable, unfeeling and armour coated.”  She sure didn’t sound too impressed and Sam gave an irritated snort as he opened up his black bag.

“Take your shirt off, Johnny.  Let me see what we’re dealing with.”

Johnny looked across at Delice.  “Ain’t you got something else to do?  Some place you’d rather be?”

She folded her arms.  Leaned against the door.  “No.”

Shit.  He didn’t want to take his shirt off with her standing watching.  Didn’t want her to see his scarred back.  Though why he should care what she thought he couldn’t even begin to figure.  And he didn’t want her watching when Sam dug the bullet out.

“Johnny.”  Sam sounded real snappy.  “Shall I help you with the shirt?”

“Does she have to be here?”  Johnny jerked his head towards Delice.  She didn’t seem bothered, just carried on standing there with her arms folded.  “Honey, oddly enough, I’ve seen men with their shirts off before.  Don’t be embarrassed on my account.”  He could have sworn that her lips twitched, almost like she was laughing at him.

Johnny sighed.  He started fumbling with the buttons but couldn’t seem to manage them.  Sam took over.  Pushing Johnny’s hands down before undoing the buttons and easing the shirt off.   Sam frowned as he saw the extent of the blood.

Johnny tried to turn slightly in the chair.  So Delice couldn’t see his back so good.  But she  moved around too and continued to look at it, her face expressionless.  Bitch.  Except he knew she wasn’t. 

Sam was trying to swab away the blood.  Get a clear look at the wound.  He gave a hiss of annoyance.  “This is deep.  And the bullet is still in there.”

“I know that, Sam.  I can fucking feel it.”  Dios.  Tell him something he didn’t know.

“We need to get you down to my office so that I can deal with this properly.”

“No!”  Johnny’s voice sounded real icy, even to his own ears.  “We deal with it here or I deal with it myself.”

Sam snorted.  “And how would you deal with it?”

“Oh, didn’t you know?”  Delice sounded very calm.  “Johnny Madrid keeps a special knife to cover all eventualities.”  She pointed to the knife on the desk.

Sam looked at it, his eyes widened in surprise.  “And do tell me then, Johnny, just how would you put yourself back together after you’ve performed your amazing surgery on yourself?”

“Got a needle and thread in my jacket.”  He said it as casually as he could, like it was nothing out of the ordinary.  Wished they’d stop staring at him like he was loco.  But then again, maybe he was.

Sam shook his head, looked sad.  “OK, Johnny, you win.  We’ll do it here.  Delice, could you get me a bowl of hot water please?  I need to wash my hands.”  He paused, then muttered more to himself it seemed, “I should wash my hands of the whole thing.  My God, you’re a difficult man, Johnny Lancer.”

Delice paused in the doorway.  “Johnny Lancer?   Oh no, Sam, this isn’t Johnny Lancer, this is most definitely Johnny Madrid.”

He would have glared at her, but he hadn’t got the energy.  And anyhow, she was right.  As usual.

Sam busied himself, preparing for his work, getting out a knife and all the other load of kit he seemed to need for what was a straight forward job.  Dig it out and sew it up.  Simple.  “I need to get you some morphine.  This is going to be very painful and you need something to help you cope with it.  And so that you stay still.”

“Don’t need no morphine, I’m riding outta here when you’re done.  And don’t worry about me moving, I’ll stay still.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open.  Didn’t seem able to speak for a few seconds.  “Ride out of here?  That’s insane.  You’ll be in no fit state to ride anywhere.”

“Just cut the damn thing out.”  Johnny paused as Delice bustled back into the room with a bowl of steaming hot water.  “Just get it over with, OK?  Then I’m riding home.”

Sam just shook his head, like he’d given in.  He washed his hands and picked up the knife.  Delice stood close by, just watching.  Looking at Johnny all the while, her eyes boring into him.  But her face was blank, showing no expression.  Dios!  What was it with this woman?  He never knew what the hell she was thinking.

He gritted his teeth as Sam brought the knife up.  He knew just how much this was going to hurt.  Even more than it was hurting now and it was hurting real bad.  But no way would he let that damn woman see.  Still, he let out a hiss at Sam’s first probe, couldn’t stop himself.  He gritted his teeth again.  Tried to freeze his expression and stared right back at Delice.  He’d show her what sort of man he was.

The knife felt red hot, like Sam had heated it in a fire.  It felt like it was searing right through him.  A red hot poker in a mass of burning flesh.  The pain was so intense he could see stars.  Wanted to cry out.  But he clenched his jaw even tighter.  Held her gaze, fighting the desire to pull away from that red hot thrusting blade.  Dios. Don’t puke.  Whatever he did he wasn’t going to puke.  Or pass out.  Her face blurred briefly but he held on to just looking at her eyes.  No way was he passing out.  He wouldn’t let anyone see him do that.  ’Specially her.

He let out another hiss of pain as Sam gave a grunt of triumph.  “I can feel it.  Damn, it’s deep.  You were very lucky, it’s only missed the lung by a whisker.”

“Just get the fucking thing out.”  His voice sounded strange, kind of strangled.  And Delice’s face had blurred again.  Had to hold on.  He could collapse later.  When he was alone.  Then there’d be time enough to fall into a welcome blackness.  But that deep pit seemed too close right now.  He gritted his teeth again.  Dios, he felt so tired.  And it hurt so much.  He looked into her eyes and didn’t flinch at Sam’s next burning stab.  The pain felt like it was in his soul, eating away at him.  Consuming him like the fires of hell.  Where he was headed.  No redemption for Johnny Madrid.  The words of a priest from another time echoed in his head.  There’d never be any redemption.  Never any peace.  Just eternal damnation.

Sam gave a sigh of relief as he dropped the bullet on the floor.  And Johnny fought the rising desire to puke as Sam set about cleaning him up.  Stitching him up.  Sewing the demons back inside Madrid and sealing them in.

He tried to focus on Delice.  But she looked like she was wrapped in some silver sparking cloth of stars.  Shimmering, going in and out of focus.  Just hold it together, Madrid.  Never let them see beneath the mask.

“Ain’t you done yet?”  His voice was a croak.  Shit.  Should have kept his mouth shut.  And now he wanted to puke.  He fought to keep the bile down.

“Almost done.”  Sam’s voice came from far away.  Some distant place.  Johnny could see the hacienda.  It’s sprawling mass like a glimpse of heaven.  No grass greener.  No sky bluer.  He struggled to bring himself back.  To hold on longer.  Sam had to be done soon.  Please, God.  Please.

Sam’s voice came again.  “You’re in no state to ride, but I don’t suppose you’ll take any notice of that.”

He tried to focus on Sam’s blurry face.  Why the hell couldn’t the man stand still?  And he knew Delice was still watching him, could feel her eyes boring into him.

“Very impressive.”  She didn’t sound impressed.  And what was she impressed about?  Couldn’t figure it.  Too tired.  “Your performance.  Very impressive, Mr Madrid.”

He tried to quell the rising desire to puke.  He could taste the bile.  Dios, no.

“Here, use this.”

Just as he lost the battle, she passed him a trash bin from behind her desk.  He retched into it.  And the action made him hurt more.  And puke more.  The sickly smell was in his nostrils.  Filled the room.  He couldn’t look at them now.  But he could sense their concern.  Their pity.  He didn’t need nobody’s pity.  Fuck that.  But he wished she hadn’t seen it.  Not his weakness.

“You’re not fit to ride, Johnny.  You’ll kill yourself.”  Sam sounded real gentle and that made things worse.

“I’m fine, just fine.”  He scowled at them.  “Just need a minute or two and I’ll be out of here, so mind your own fucking business.”  He knew his words were harsh, ungrateful but he didn’t need pity.  Or help.  He was fine.  Do things his way.  Look after himself.  Just like he always had.  For as long as he could remember. 

Sam gave an irritated sort of sigh.  Muttered something about Johnny being stubborn.  And Delice just continued to watch him, those eyes giving nothing away.  Why was life so difficult?  And he felt so tired.  Wished he could just lie down and sleep for a very long time.  But instead he tried to stand.  Sam pushed him back down.  “For God’s sake Johnny, just give it a while.”

“Mind your own fucking business.”

“I could arrange to put that bullet back in you, young man, if you don’t watch your language.”

He tried to imagine Sam shooting him.  But failed.  He tried to smile.  “No, Sam, you don’t have it in you to pull the trigger.”

“No, I don’t suppose I do.”  Smiling, Sam pushed him back down.  “Just give it a few minutes.  Would you like some water?”

“I suppose a tequila is out of the question?”

Sam tried to muffle a laugh.  “What are we going to do with him, Delice?”

“Well, to start with, we’re not giving him any tequila.  Although I might give him a bill for bleeding all over my office.”

Sam gave another snort of laughter.  “The person I feel sorry for is Murdoch Lancer.  God knows what he did to deserve a son like this.  Though come to think of it, maybe that’s where Johnny gets it from.”

“When you two have done laughing, I need my horse.”

Sam sighed.  “There’s no stopping you, is there?  You could spend the night here.  Get a little stronger.  Ride out in the morning.”

“I’m riding out of here today.  If I stay the girls will find out about this and I don’t want no-one to know.  And besides.”  He paused, felt awkward.  “I promised Murdoch I’d go back after.  Let him know I’m OK.”

“Johnny, I could ride out and see Murdoch...”

“No.  You ain’t listening.  I’m riding out and the whole damn town is going to see me ride out – in one piece.”

“Sam, he’s made his mind up.  Don’t waste your breath.”  Delice looked at Johnny like she was considering some sort of problem.  “I’ll have the boy bring your horse round to the side passage.  At least no one will see you struggling to mount.  God only knows how you’re going to do that.”  She held her hand up before he could say a word.  “I know, you’ve had worse.  And of course, you’re just fine.”

He had to smile.  Not much of a smile but still a smile.  “See, you understand me perfectly.”

She made a sort of harrumph noise and walked out of the room.

He wanted to puke again.  Leastways now it was only Sam to witness it.  Sam held the bin as Johnny retched into it again before falling back in his chair.  Even though the room was swaying he could see the concern in Sam’s kind eyes.

“I’ll come up to the ranch later.  Sew you back together again.”  He shook his head.  “It’s all going to come apart on that ride.  All my stitches will open right up.  You should let me take you back in my buggy.” 

“Sam, change the tune.  I’m riding back.  That’s final.”  Johnny leaned back wearily in the chair.  The burning in his side was becoming a stronger, pulsing throb.  And his head throbbed too.  But he knew, when he rode out, he had to look like he hadn’t a care in the world.  Someone had once told him he was a master of illusion.  He wasn’t totally sure he’d understood their meaning but he liked the sound of it.  He was good at pretending – he’d had a lifetime to practise.

He gave a start as Delice came back.  Had he passed out briefly?  No.  Maybe he’d dozed off.  He wasn’t going to pass out.  Not till later.  Much later.

“You can leave through this side door and your horse is tethered in the alley.  It’s not overlooked and is always in shadow so you might just get away with it.”  She sounded real business like.  Heck, she was good at this.

He tried to summon up a smile.  “Thanks.  I owe you.”

“No, Johnny.”  Her voice was softer now.  “Me and the girls, we owe you.”

He tried to shrug, but couldn’t manage it.  “Just give the money to Lizzie.”

Delice smiled.  “I did and she’s already planning a new life.  And, honey, I hope there won’t be a next time, but in case there is, just remember you don’t need to pretend in front of Sam and me.  We’re friends, OK?”

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat.  Funny how Delice could read him, but then, she always could, right from the start.

“And for God’s sake.”  Her tone was crisp now.  “Take care and try not to fall off on the way home.”

She and Sam watched as he moved with agonising slowness to the door.  Dios, it hurt.  Really hurt.  But once outside he could see Barranca waiting patiently in the alley.  There was a single stone next to him.  Like it had been placed there on purpose.  A stone large enough to stand on.  Good old Delice, she thought of everything.  It was funny, but it seemed he’d made two good friends in this town.  The rest of the folk might be shit but he’d got two people on his side.  An unusual experience.

He soothed Barranca, who was giving a nicker of pleasure at seeing his master.  Johnny gritted his teeth as he manoeuvred himself onto the stone.  A huge wave of pain swept over him and he clung to the side of the saddle as the alleyway swayed around him.  He waited for the pain to subside.  “Stand still, amigo.”  He stroked Barranca’s neck.  “Stand very still.”

As though aware of Johnny’s distress, Barranca stood rock steady while Johnny lifted his foot into the stirrup.  Another tidal wave of pain engulfed him and he staggered against Barranca.  He hoped Delice and Sam weren’t watching.  He wanted his room, his bed.  Wanted to lie down and sleep for a hundred years.

The stars in front of his eyes subsided and he was relieved to find that his foot was still lodged in the stirrup.  He grasped hold of the pommel and summoning up his last reserves of energy, hauled himself into the saddle. 

The shock from the pain almost pitched him right over the top.  He clung to Barranca’s neck.  The pain was even worse than Sam’s probing knife.  He tried to take deep breaths but that hurt too much.  His heart felt like it was going to bust right out of his chest and sweat was pouring down his face.  He sat clinging to Barranca’s neck as images seemed to swim in front of his eyes.  Faces from the past.  Blood.  Lots of blood. 

He couldn’t have said how long he stayed with his face buried in Barranca’s neck.  It might have been just moments.  It might have been an hour.  He needed to get home.  Needed to ride out in front of the miserable, snivelling people of Green River who’d like nothing more than to see him dead.  Or suffering.

He wiped the sweat away with his sleeve.  Set his hat low on his head so it cast a deep shadow over his face.  His side was damp and sticky.  Must have opened up the stitches already.  No surprises there.

“Home, Barranca.  You have to get me home.”  He gave the horse a light touch with his heels and turned him so they would follow the route home right down the centre of the main street.

He felt in control now.  Wouldn’t allow himself to feel anything until they were out of sight of town.  His jacket was secured so no one would see the tell-tale signs of blood.  Sat bolt upright in the saddle, clenched his jaw tight and rode out into the dazzling sunlight.

He looked straight ahead.  Ignored the stares of folk who now crowded the sidewalk.  Cowards.

The only time he paused was outside the mayor’s store.  The man was stood outside, staring like the rest.  Johnny looked him up and down like he was something unpleasant that he’d trodden in.  Then, he rode on.

It felt like one of the longest rides of his life.  But he’d had worse.  It went with the territory.  Live by the gun.  Die by the gun. Sometime.

Out of sight of town he slumped forward again, trusting Barranca to get him home.  He’d keep his energy for the ride into the ranch.  His head was swimming again and he rested his head on Barranca’s neck.  Leastways if he passed out he wouldn’t fall out of the saddle.

A strange moaning sound brought him to with a start.  But then he relaxed as he realised the noise was coming from himself.  He could see the ranch now so he pushed himself upright.  Didn’t want anyone to notice anything unusual. 

It took all his strength to maintain the position until he finally rode Barranca into the deserted barn where he fell out of the saddle into a pile of straw.

 

Part Sixteen

It felt like an eternity since Johnny had left to ride into town.  Murdoch could have sworn he’d worn a path in the floor of the Great Room as he paced back and forth, waiting for Johnny’s return.

Why the hell did Johnny feel he had to deal with things in this way?  It seemed Madrid wasn’t going to leave in a hurry, but all Murdoch wanted was the other Johnny with none of the baggage that accompanied Madrid.  It was a pity that life was never that simple.

Green River needed a sheriff but it had needed one for a long time.  He’d had arguments in the past with the store owners and local ranchers but no one was prepared to back him and contribute to the cost.  Maybe now they’d see he’d been right all along.  Hopefully, Scott’s trip would bear fruit and they would attract someone of the right calibre to restore law and order and bring a little peace to the growing town.

If only Scott was here now.  Could Scott have talked Johnny out of this mad idea?  No, probably not.  Johnny was a law unto himself.  Seemed to live by his own code and didn’t look like changing anytime soon.  He seemed as wild as the horses that roamed the vast Lancer spread and far more difficult to tame.

He paused in his pacing.  Difficult to tame?  In fact, if he was honest with himself, they had made progress.  He could see it now.  The atmosphere between them was less strained.  Except when something like this happened and Johnny went charging off to impose his own brand of law and order.  He felt an all too familiar cold clutch of fear in his guts.  He needed to know that Johnny was safe.  There were five of those men and how on earth did Johnny think he could deal with that single handed? 

He looked up with a start as the door opened and Teresa came in.    “Can I get you anything, Murdoch?  A drink or maybe a sandwich?”

He could see that she was trying to be brave, looked as though she was trying to act normally.  But the tear-stained face couldn’t be hidden.  Poor Teresa, he knew she was desperately worried about Johnny so he tried to look relaxed and cheerful for her sake.  Didn’t want her to see how worried he was too.  “No, no thanks.  I’m fine.”  Fine?  God, he even sounded like Johnny.

Teresa’s lower lip wobbled and fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks as she threw herself into Murdoch’s arms.  “He’ll be alright, won’t he?  Tell me he’ll be alright.  He’s been gone so long.  Surely he should be back by now.”

Murdoch held her tightly and made soothing noises as she sobbed into his chest.  He wished he could make things better for her. Hell, he wished he could wave a magic wand and make things better for all of them.

“Teresa,” he spoke gently.  “These things take time.  He had to get to town, assess the situation and decide how and when to deal with it.  And then ride home again.  It could be quite a while yet.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?”  Her voice, accusing, was choked by tears.  “You shouldn’t have let him go.  You should have stopped him.”

Murdoch looked at her and held her slightly away so he could see her face.  “Do you think I could have stopped him?”

She sniffed noisily as she thought about it.  “No. . .  I don’t suppose you could.  He does exactly what he wants.”

“He’s a grown man, Teresa.  He’s been on his own for a long time.  Too long.  And he’s very much his own man and this is obviously something he felt he had to do.”  He paused, as the reality of his own words hit him, Johnny had been on his own for far too long.  Much longer than anyone of his age should have endured.  “And to be honest, there’s nothing I could have said that would have made any difference.  He’d made his mind up.”

“But what if. . .”  She gave another sob.  “What if . . . I mean there are five of them.  He can’t take on five men.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say to that.  Because all she was doing was voicing his own unspoken fear. 

“Darling, why don’t you just go and help Maria in the kitchen?  It’ll help to keep busy.”

She sniffed.  “And you’re sure I can’t get you anything?  A sandwich?”

He shook his head.  “No, thanks.  I’ll wait.  We’ll all have dinner together later, when Johnny’s home.”  Again the cold dread of fear.  When Johnny’s home.  Please God, let him come home.

He limped to stand  by the window as Teresa walked slowly back towards the kitchen.  The damage from Pardee’s bullet seemed to trouble him far more when he was worried.  Looking out, he could see the hands getting on with their chores, talking to each other, enjoying the sunshine.  He envied them their apparent contentment.  He turned back to sit at his desk, swivelling the chair round towards the window so he could start the long vigil which he hoped would end with the sight of Johnny riding in.  Coming home.

He sat for some time, his eyes never wavering from the horizon.  Surely the boy should be back by now?  Unless. . .  But he couldn’t bring himself to think of the alternative.  It was like a cold, paralysing dread clutching at his guts.  Johnny would come home.  He had to.

It seemed that hours passed before he suddenly glimpsed a rider on the horizon.  And as the figure came closer he could see that it was a palomino horse.  For a second he wondered if he was imagining it.  But no, that was Johnny.  He sat back in his chair, suddenly exhausted.  Totally drained and feeling as though he’d done the hardest day’s work of his life.  He looked again, feeling the weight fall from his shoulders.  As he focused on the figure he sucked in his breath.  His son was slumped over Barranca’s neck.  But no, Johnny must have been leaning forward to adjust something on the bridle for now he was sitting bolt upright.  He’d kept his promise – he was coming home.

He watched as Johnny rode into the barn, making the decision to wait in the house for his son.  He suspected that Johnny certainly wouldn’t want to answer a barrage of questions.  He’d give him some time.

Teresa had heard the hooves and come rushing in to look through the window.  She was obviously set on running straight out but Murdoch put a restraining hand on her.  “Just let him be.  I don’t think he’ll want to talk to any of us right now.  There’ll be time enough for talking later.  I think he’d rather be alone right now.”

She nodded, her face glowing with relief.  “It’s just I was so afraid that he wouldn’t be coming back.  That he...”  She broke off, as though unable to voice the dread thought that he knew had plagued her all day.

Murdoch gave her a reassuring pat on the back as she turned back towards the kitchen.  He sat down again to wait for Johnny to come in.  His son certainly wasn’t rushing.  He’d obviously decided to rub down his horse and have some time alone before coming to the house.  But thank God he was safe.

He felt a surge of anger with everyone.  Everyone who wanted to use his son when it suited them and then cast him off again when he’d outlived his usefulness.  And all the petty-minded bigotry of his neighbours made his blood boil.  Their rank hypocrisy.  No wonder Johnny had a low opinion of his fellow man.  He’d little reason to like them.  Even Aggie, who he’d thought he knew so well, even she could only see the labels.  Halfbreed.  Gunfighter.  Not interested in knowing the man within.

The man within?  At times Murdoch despaired of ever getting to know the man within.  Johnny wore his freedom like a crown and wrapped himself in a seemingly impenetrable suit of armour.  

The big front door creaked open and he heard Johnny’s footsteps in the hallway.  He paused as he reached the doorway of the Great Room and looked in, meeting Murdoch’s eyes.  God!  He looked so pale, and older somehow than earlier in the day. 

“Kept my promise.”  His voice was very low.  “Came back straight after.”

Murdoch thought he detected a note of irony in his son’s tone.  He looked all in.  Dead on his feet.  And he wondered what the cost of all this was to Johnny.  “It’s over?”  He had to know.  He wanted the details but knew it wasn’t the time to ask.

“Yeah.  It’s over.  Don’t want to talk about it.  I’m going for a lie down.  I won’t want dinner.”  Johnny turned away and Murdoch listened to his son’s slow progress up the stairs.  The boy had looked awful.  Well, the whole town had been baying for blood and it seemed that Johnny had finally danced to their tune.

Would it ever end?  Would people ever leave him in peace?  Somehow he thought not.  He’d hoped that people would accept Johnny’s presence after a while.  Get used to him being around.  But now that hope was fading.  Johnny had warned him what to expect, said it would be like this.  And he, fool that he was, hadn’t believed his son.  Thought he was over dramatising things.  Hell, why did people have to be so damned unpleasant?

He stood up and strode around the room, too agitated to stay sitting.  What a mess.  People he’d known all these years, except it seemed now that he hadn’t known them at all.  As he paced around he noticed a wet patch on the floor in the doorway.  Someone spilling their coffee as usual.  He bent to mop it up with his handkerchief but instead of the familiar brown stain he expected to see, his handkerchief turned red.  Blood red.  And then he saw the trail of stains continuing up the stairway – the stairs Johnny had just walked...

God almighty.  He raced up the stairs and along the corridor with the tell-tale patches leading to Johnny’s door.  And there the trail stopped.  He had a momentary flash of Johnny’s exhausted and pale face earlier.  How could he have been so blind?

He pushed open the door to see Johnny sitting on the bed, pulling a blood soaked dressing away from his side.  Johnny stared at him, his mouth set in a hard line and his narrowed eyes flashing with rage.

“Don’t you ever barge into my room again.  You fucking knock, old man, before you come in here.  You hear me?  You fucking knock in future.”  Johnny’s voice faded as he seemed caught in a wave of pain.  His face was chalk white and he looked dreadful.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you’d been hit?   I’ll send someone for Sam.”

“No.”  Johnny’s voice was stronger now and as sharp as the crack of a bull whip.  “Sam knows.  He’ll be here soon.”

Murdoch stared at Johnny in confusion.  “What do you mean, Sam knows?”

“He got the bullet out in town.”  Johnny sounded exhausted now.

“And he let you ride home in this state?”  Murdoch felt a wave of anger toward his old friend as he spoke.  “The irresponsibility.  What the hell was Sam thinking of?”

“He had no choice.  I wasn’t staying in town.  I rode out so that everyone would see me ride out.  And Sam’ll be here soon to patch me up again.  Had worse.”  There was a touch of defiance in Johnny’s voice.

Murdoch shook his head in exasperation.  He’d never understand this boy.  And what did he mean by saying he rode out so that people would see him?  It didn’t make any sense.  “But why couldn’t you just stay put?  Sam would have looked after you.  This is total madness.”

“None of your fucking business.”

God in heaven.  Why did Johnny always resort to foul language whenever they argued?  To shock him?  Just ignore it.  For now.  “Just tell me why you embarked on such a crazy ride when you could have stayed in town.  Please tell me it wasn’t because of your promise to me to come straight home.”  Could all this have been his own fault?  Had Johnny been worried about breaking his word?

“You wouldn’t understand.”  Johnny’s tone was sullen and his face was devoid of all emotion, liked he’d wiped it all away.  He wasn’t even showing his pain now.  He was giving nothing away.

“Please, son, try me.  I would like to at least try and understand.”

Johnny was silent for a second.  He fiddled with one of the conchos on his trousers.  “I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.  OK?”

Murdoch furrowed his brow, totally bemused.  No, he still didn’t understand.  Johnny’s reply had not proved very enlightening.  “Give who what satisfaction?”

“Told you that you wouldn’t understand.”  Johnny’s voice was quieter now, as though he’d run out of energy.

“Please, son, give who what satisfaction?  I really don’t understand.  But I’d like to.”

Johnny shot him a glance, even though his eyes looked dull with pain.  It was almost as though he was fighting to stay conscious.  “The people in the town.  They’d like nothing more than to see me killed in that shoot out.  And me getting hit would come a close second.  So I was damned if I’d let them see.  They can all go to hell.”

Murdoch thought over his son’s words.  He wanted to say that Johnny was overreacting, but if he was honest, he knew that the boy’s words were true.  God, the boy was proud.  No wonder Madrid had acquired his reputation if Johnny had always been that proud.

He was aware of Johnny watching him through half-closed eyes, waiting for a reaction.  “Thank you and now I do understand, Johnny.  I really do.  Even though I’d rather you hadn’t risked making yourself worse by riding home.”

Johnny’s eyes widened with surprise.  “You understand?”

Murdoch smiled.  “Yes.  But it doesn’t mean that I approve of you riding back, though.”

“I don’t want anyone here to know, either.  They’re bound to talk.” 

“I’ll go and get Teresa to bring you up some soup or something.”

“No.”  Johnny’s voice came out stronger now.  He looked distressed.  “Please, I don’t want her to know about this.  You know how she chatters to all her friends.  She’s bound to say something.”

“I can keep a secret, you know.”  Teresa was stood at the door, her face a picture of shock at the sight of Johnny.  And she also looked indignant, hurt by his words. 

“Dios.”  Johnny ran his hand through his hair.  He looked and sounded totally drained.  “I don’t want anybody to know about this, Teresa.  Nobody.  OK?”

Murdoch could see she was confused by Johnny’s words, but she nodded.  “I’ll keep it a secret, don’t worry.  Will you be alright?  Can I get you something?  Anything at all?  I’m sure you should have something.”

Johnny just shook his head, looked too tired to even speak.  His hand, which was holding a towel to his side, was shaking as he tried to staunch the blood flow.  He seemed to struggle to answer.  “No.  Sam’ll be here soon.  He’ll sort me out.”

“I’m already here!”  The doctor walked into the room, easing past Teresa in the doorway.  “I did call, but I got no answer so I just let myself in.”  He eyed Johnny with obvious concern.  “God, you’re a mess.”  He turned towards Murdoch.  “Can you and Teresa just go, please, and leave me to deal with my patient.”  He was already opening his black bag.  He shook his head, as though irritated.  “I can see that you’re going to be the most difficult of all my patients.  Let me have a look at that.”

Murdoch ushered Teresa out of the room, closing the door gently after them as he offered up a silent prayer of thanks that Sam had arrived so promptly.

He followed her to the Great Room, where she sank into a chair, her face still pale and drawn.  “Why doesn’t he want people to know he’s hurt?  I don’t understand.”

Murdoch sighed as he poured himself a drink and turned to face her.  “He’s a very proud man.  He knows that an awful lot of people will be delighted that he’s hurt.  Many of them would have liked to have seen him killed.  They don’t want Johnny Madrid around, even though he came to their aid.”

“But he’s done them all a favour.  Given them what they wanted.  They should all be grateful.”  She sounded indignant.  Her face was flushed and she was clenching her hands.  “Poor Johnny risked his life and people are just downright mean.”

Murdoch smiled ruefully.  “People are strange, darling.  And they often resent being indebted to someone who’s done them a favour.  All we can do is go along with Johnny’s wishes on this and keep the fact of him being hit just within the family.”

He went and threw a log on the fire and then sat down to wait for Sam.  Thank God the doctor had turned up so quickly.  But Johnny’s ride home had been crazy.  He could have killed himself.  And once again the thought slid into Murdoch’s mind that Johnny didn’t seem to value his own skin at all.  In fact the boy seemed totally reckless when it came to his own safety.  It was as if he didn’t care if he lived or died and he was far too young to feel like that.

The sound of Sam clattering down the stairs shook him out of his reverie.  “Is he going to be alright, Sam?”

Sam came and sat down in front of the blazing fire, accepting the whisky that Murdoch had poured for him.  “Yes, I think he’ll be alright.  It was deep but the wound itself was fairly clean, so provided there’s no infection, he should mend.  Judging by the scars on him, he’s had worse in the past.  But he’s one hell of a stubborn man.  What he did today was crazy, and unnecessary.”

“But he’s very proud.” Murdoch spoke softly.  “I wish I knew what went on in that head of his.  But it’s like living with a puzzle.  And it seems that every time I think I’ve found an answer to the puzzle, it changes to something totally different.”

Sam sipped his whisky, looking thoughtful.  He shot Murdoch a piercing look.  “I’ve told you before, you’ll never understand him until you understand what his childhood was like.  It’s the boy that makes the man.”

Murdoch shook his head, irritated.  “He won’t tell me anything.  It’s a forbidden topic.  I know nothing of his past and I don’t see him opening up any time soon.”  Murdoch paused.  “I know nothing of his past!  That’s a hell of a thing to have to admit about my own son.”

“Give him time, Murdoch.  He needs to learn to trust you all.  This is a huge adjustment and it’s not easy for him.  He’s never had to explain himself to anyone before, at least not to anyone who cared, or have a routine, or even somewhere to call home.  But he’s a good man.  I’m certain of it.  Beneath that very prickly exterior and seemingly cold demeanour, there’s a good man.  Even if he doesn’t recognise that in himself, it’s there.”  Sam paused, deep in thought, and then looked up with a smile.  “You know, he might be my most difficult patient, but I have to confess, just between the two of us, that he’s also my favourite.”

Later, after Sam had headed back to town, Murdoch sat reflecting on his friend’s words.  He felt a warm glow and it definitely wasn’t just attributable to the fire.  No, Sam’s words had soothed him.  The boy had found an ally outside the family circle.  Things could only get better.

 

Part Seventeen

He had a bad night.  His side was hurting like hell and he was afraid to close his eyes and sleep.  His nightly tormentors invaded his mind.  Whenever he dozed off, the demons took over.  And now there were even more of them.  Five more.  It was better to stay awake.

He couldn’t regret the fight in Green River.  He’d done what he had to do.  But he longed for some peace.  And a good night’s sleep.  A dreamless sleep.  What the hell would that be like?

Still, he’d got the better of the people in Green River and he’d made them pay.  It felt good to know he’d outsmarted them.  And the old man had seemed to understand.  That had surprised him.  He’d thought the old man would just pitch into him, but instead he’d seemed more concerned that Johnny was safe.  And that felt real good.

Poor Lizzie.  She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Now, he just hoped she had the guts to make a fresh start.  Leastways, she had the money to do that now.  Maybe her luck would change.  Maybe she really would take a chance at starting over and would strike gold.  This was probably the first real chance she’d ever had.  Maybe things would work out for her.  Maybe... Shit, life was full of maybes and what ifs.

He wished Scott was home.  It would be good to have someone to talk to.  Now that was an odd thing to want.  Couldn’t remember ever having wanted to talk to a particular person before.  He’d never let anyone get that close until he’d come home.  Still, Scott should be back by the evening.  His trip shouldn’t take too long.  Bet Scott would have a go at him though.  Tell him how damn stupid he’d been.  Risking his life and all.  Old Boston really didn’t understand that he didn’t care.  Everyone died sooner or later.  Didn’t really matter at all.

The sun was coming up, casting a golden glow into his room, promising another fine day.  He lay back against the pillows, watching the fingers of dawn spreading their soft light over the mountains. 

He shut his eyes again.  Maybe he could catch a little more sleep.  It was easier in the light.  It was the darkness which held danger.  And too many damn ghosts.

When he awoke again, the sun was high in the sky.  He must have slept for hours.  Easing himself up, he was relieved to find that he could move without too much discomfort.  There was a tray next to the bed so someone must have come in with it but he hadn’t heard a thing.  Dios.  Normally he woke at the slightest sound.  And he even felt hungry so that had to be a good sign.  He leaned carefully across to see what he’d got.  The muffins, fruit and some juice all looked good.  There was a jug of coffee too.  He stuck his finger in it to see if it was still warm enough to drink, but it was cold.  He really had slept for a long time.

As he ate, he tried to figure out how to hide his injury.  He reckoned he could spin a yarn to the ranch hands to explain why he wasn’t riding for a few days.  Say the old man was making him go through all the books and accounts for a few days as a punishment for his latest gunfight.  That should stop any questions.  And he could always drive the wagon if they needed supplies from town.  Nobody would know there was anything wrong.  So long as he played the part.

Looking through the window he could see a couple of the local ranchers heading out toward their horses.  They were walking close, like they didn’t want anyone else to hear what they were saying.  They’d obviously been to see the old man.  But, strangely, he didn’t feel worried.  He figured that Murdoch wouldn’t have given anything away.  Would have kept Johnny’s injury a secret within the family.  Family.  It sure took some getting used to.  But somehow, deep down, he was certain that the old man wouldn’t have let him down.

Murdoch had sure been pissed off by the locals of late.  And had backed Johnny.  Said the right things.  Maybe Delice was right.  She’d said they were on the same side.  And hearing the old man back him against all the opposition had felt real good.  Made him feel like he mattered and he sure wasn’t used to feeling like that.

Turning away from the window, he struggled into some clothes, taking care not to pull the stitches.  Didn’t think Sam would be too pleased if he had to stitch him up a third time.

He made his way very slowly down the stairs.  Seemed getting dressed had taken more out of him than he’d expected, what with every step jarring a hiss right out of him.  He stopped halfway just to get his breath and have a rest.  Still, could be worse.  And he’d try and be real good and take things easy for a few days.  Sam had said he’d get better quicker if he did that.  And Sam seemed to be good at his trade.  So maybe he’d follow doctor’s orders – just this once.

He could see his father sitting at his desk by the window.  Didn’t seem to be doing anything.  Just sitting with his head bowed like he was lost in thought.  Maybe chewing over whatever those ranchers had come to see him about.  The old man looked up sharply as Johnny walked in trying not to look as bad as he felt.  Looked at Johnny with narrowed eyes.  “Should you be up?  Surely Sam told you to stay put for a while longer?”

Johnny shrugged.  “Don’t fuss.  I’m being careful.  Just ain’t one for lying around.  Figured I’d see if there was something useful I could do.”  Maybe that would please the old man.  Keep him sweet.  But he looked real grumpy right now.

“I had a visit this morning from a couple of our neighbours, local ranchers.”

“Yeah.  I saw them ride off.  What did they want?  Making trouble?”

The old man was glaring good now.  Like he was real pissed off about something.

“They told me that you charged a very large fee for sorting out those saddle tramps.  Thirteen hundred dollars.”

The way the old man said it was like he couldn’t believe it.  Like he must have heard wrong or something.

Just play it cool, real relaxed.  Johnny shrugged.  “They’d offered to pay so I figured they damn well could.  I was putting my life on the line and that don’t come cheap.  If they’d had any guts between the lot of them they could have sorted out the problem themselves.  Didn’t have to come to this.”

The old man had stood up.  Was pacing back and forth across the room.  If he carried on like that he’d wear a trench in the floor.  “I didn’t think you were going to demand money when you rode in yesterday.  It’s hiring out.  I thought you’d given up all that sort of thing.  Thought you were starting fresh.”

Yeah, he was pissed.  “I know it’s hiring out, don’t need you to tell me that.  But they wanted the job done, hell, the whole town wanted the job done.  Well, they got it done.  Why the hell should I do it for nothing?”

“Because you’re part of this community, dammit.”  That vein was pulsing in the side of the old man’s head, just like it always did when he got riled.  “All you’ve succeeded in doing is reinforcing their opinions of you.  Gun for hire.”

Johnny clenched his fists, tried to keep the lid on his temper.  Play nice.  But fuck it, why should he?  “They wanted a gun for hire so they fucking well got one.  And do you really think I care what they think of me?  Folk are all the same, wherever you go.  It’s a small ugly world full of small ugly people and they all want to use me when it suits them.  You think if I’d done their dirty work for them for nothing they’d have thought any better of me?  Bullshit.”

“You’ll have to give the money back.  All of it.”

Shit.  The old man had gone loco.  But he had a real steely look in his eye, like he meant what he said.  “You got to be kidding?”

Looked even more riled now.  “I am not kidding.  You must give the money back.  It’s not right to profit out of something like this.”

Johnny fixed his iciest expression in place.  Seemed the old man needed to hear some home truths.  “It’s what I do, didn’t you know?”

The old man paused in his pacing.  “I mean it, Johnny, you must give the money back.”

Johnny waited.  Let the silence unnerve the old man.  Yeah.  That vein was pulsing good now.  Johnny smiled and then spoke real soft.  “Well, that could be kind of tricky, old man.”  He paused, let Murdoch think on that.  Then, in a soft drawl, he added: “You see, I ain’t got it anymore.”

His father’s mouth dropped open, like he was lost for words.  But not for long.  “What d’you mean, you haven’t got it anymore?  You haven’t had time to spend it.  It’s a small fortune.”

Johnny fiddled with one of the conchos on his trouser leg.  Kicked at the floor.  Then looked up, met his father’s eyes.  “Well, thing is, I gave it to the girl, OK?  Figured the town owed her and I owed her.  So you see, I really don’t have it any more.”

His father’s mouth had dropped open again.  Was staring at him like he thought Johnny had gone loco.  “You gave it to the girl?  The one who was raped?  The whore?”

Johnny narrowed his eyes.  “The girl who was raped.  Yeah.”

The old man had turned a real interesting shade of purple now.  And didn’t look none too impressed.

“You gave thirteen hundred dollars to a whore?  Have you gone mad?”

“Nope.  But if I’d dealt with this when they first asked me, this wouldn’t have happened.  We all owed her.”  He knew his father wouldn’t understand this.  And that vein was pulsing even more.  Any minute it would explode.

“You’re crazy.  You don’t give that sort of money to a whore.  What the hell got into you?”

Johnny tried to unclench his fists.  Wanted to punch the old man.  Play nice.  No.  Not this time.  “Stop calling her a whore.”  The words came out like an explosion.  “She’s just a girl.  Just a girl who didn’t do anyone any harm.  Maybe, just maybe, that money will give her a fresh start.  A chance to go somewhere new, get away from all this.  She didn’t deserve what happened and the town...”  He paused, tried to control himself.  “I should have stopped it from happening.  Could have stopped it.  We’re all guilty.  So, yeah, I’ve made everyone pay.  Hell, the town can afford it.  Maybe now they’ll put their hands in their pockets and pay for a sheriff.”

“None of this was your fault.  You didn’t need to ride in and deal with it in this way.  You should have stayed home and we’d have got the law to deal with it.  Instead, you’ve gone charging off, almost got yourself killed and made the town pay out a great deal of money.  And what the hell do you think people are going to say if they hear that you gave all their money to a whore?”

He bit his lip, really bit it so it hurt.  But he knew it wasn’t enough.  Knew he’d really let rip if he didn’t put a stop to all this talk.  He shut his eyes briefly as he turned toward the door.  “You really don’t get it, do you?  I don’t care what they say.  That was my fee.  What I do with it is up to me.  Ain’t nobody telling me what to do.  And that includes you, old man.”

“We haven’t finished yet.”

Johnny ignored him.  His side was hurting like hell now and it was all he could do to make it up the stairs back to the sanctuary of his room  Looked like that was where he’d be spending the rest of the day, ’cos he sure as hell wasn’t talking any longer. 

 

Part Eighteen

Scott sat slumped in the Great Room listening to Murdoch's tirade about what Johnny had been up to while he was away on his trip to Stockton.

It had been a very tiring trip but he'd come home feeling fairly optimistic that the advertisements would bear fruit and Green River would soon have a sheriff.  He'd looked forward to an enjoyable evening back with his family. He certainly hadn't expected to find that Johnny had taken the law into his own hands and gone to town and killed five men. Five! God, it was like the dreadful business in Bitterville all over again. Except this time Johnny had caught a bullet and could have been killed. The thought of Johnny being killed, before he'd even had a chance to get to know him gave him a cold, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. And he found it impossible to understand how Johnny could behave so recklessly and with such apparent disregard for his own safety. Life out here was like living in a foreign country, it was so totally different to life in the east.

"But Johnny really is going to be alright?" He interrupted Murdoch's rant about his brother's shortcomings. He wondered how much of it was Murdoch's way of letting out pent up emotions because he had probably been terrified by Johnny's near brush with death.

Murdoch gave an impatient grunt. "Yes. Sam says he'll be alright, thank God.  But he gave all that money to a whore. A whore! I think the boy's taken leave of his senses."

Scott sighed. "I think, sir, that by Johnny's code, he would think he'd done the right thing."

"What do you mean, by his code?" Murdoch sounded very suspicious, as though he thought that Scott was privy to some closely guarded secret.

"Well, he obviously felt that if either he, or the town, had dealt with the saddle tramps earlier, none of this would have happened. I think he would have seen it as only just and right that the girl be compensated for the dreadful thing that happened to her because it could have been avoided. Don't you see, to him, what he's done is the honourable thing? Justice if you like."

Murdoch furrowed his brow and looked taken aback. "Justice?"

Scott nodded wearily. "Yes. Justice. He might deal with things differently to the way you and I would deal with a situation, but he has a very strong sense of right and wrong. A strong moral centre."

Murdoch raised an eyebrow. "A moral centre? This of the boy who goes whoring at every opportunity and appears to kill without any apparent sign of it affecting him?"

"Yes." Scott used his most authoritative tone. The tone he would use to the soldiers in his command when they were being particularly obtuse and thick headed. "A moral centre. And as for his whoring, to him it's just a way of life. Something he's probably been doing for years and he would see nothing wrong in it.

"As for his killings, I think he's very much affected by it, but he's far too proud to let you see that. He's very good at hiding his emotions. Look at how he struggled to hide his pain when he was injured by Pardee's bullet. And from what you say, because of his pride, he was determined to hide the fact that he'd been hit from the people of Green River. He hides behind a mask of invulnerability, but it is just that, a mask, make no mistake."

Murdoch sank down into a chair. "I never know what to say to him. I always put my foot in it, say something that makes him angry. I just don't have a clue how to deal with him."

Scott viewed his father curiously. "Why do you feel you have to deal with him?  Just trust him. He usually does the right thing. It's just that his methods are somewhat unorthodox."

Murdoch gave a rueful laugh. "Unorthodox. That's one way of putting it."

"He's a good man. Trust me. And start trusting him."

Scott watched as Murdoch seemed to ponder the advice, before nodding slowly.  Thank heavens he appeared to have finally calmed down.

"And the money? What on earth are people going to think about that when they find out that Johnny gave it all to the girl? Because one thing you can be certain of is that they will find out."

Scott grinned. "Does it really matter? The people of Green River have treated Johnny appallingly and I don't think they'd think any better of him if he'd given them their money back. Johnny once told me that the difference between him and me is that I'm always surprised when people behave badly, whereas he never is. I'm beginning to see his point of view. One of these days you will too."

Murdoch started to laugh and it seemed the years fell off him then. "OK. You win. You're right of course. People have been treating him badly and haven't given him a chance." He paused, the laughter fading. He shook his head as though in sorrow. "Men I've known for almost 30 years have treated him like dirt. It seems I didn't know them at all. And Aggie, I thought I knew her well but I never recognised her prejudices. Until now."

Scott shrugged. "She'll get used to him. Johnny doesn't want you to stop socialising with our neighbours. For a start, if you did, it would just make him feel guilty that he'd caused you so much trouble. And besides, he knows that we have to rub along with them. He's just not prepared to go out of his way to be friendly when he knows what they really think of him. And I can't say that I blame him. Quite frankly, if this whole dreadful business has cost the town a lot of money, then that's fine by me. It'll make them appreciate a sheriff a lot more."

Murdoch nodded. "Yes, that's a good point. So long as we can find someone suitable." He paused, and flushed slightly as though embarrassed. "Thank you, son, for helping me see things a little clearer. I'll speak to your brother tomorrow - try and mend fences."

Scott offered up a silent prayer of thanks that another potentially damaging clash between Murdoch and Johnny had been averted. He hauled himself to his feet, rubbing his aching back. "I think that would be a very good idea. I'll go and look in on him now, see if he needs anything."

He trudged upstairs feeling totally drained. Playing peacemaker was an exhausting business, even without a trip to Stockton.

He knocked on the door to Johnny's room. "Go away." Scott smiled. He'd had the feeling that would be the response.

"Johnny, it's me. I've just got back and I thought you'd like to hear about how my trip went."

There was a long silence. Scott leaned against the door and tried to stretch the crick out of his neck.

"OK. Come in."

Pushing open the door, Scott forced a cheerful smile, not wanting Johnny to see how very tired he was. "It seems that as soon as I turn my back you manage to land yourself in a load of trouble."

Johnny was sitting by the open window, his hair blowing in the cool breeze. His pale face was impassive. "Thought you wanted to talk about your trip."

Scott grinned. ""I lied. Your exploits sound far more interesting than mine."  He hoped Johnny would catch his mood, throw him one of his infectious smiles.  But his brother just bowed his head and fiddled with the gun which lay dismantled in his lap. It was only then that Scott noticed the bottle of gun oil and the cloths.

When he spoke his tone was very cool. "My exploits? It's not a game, Scott."

He'd misjudged this badly. He sighed. "I do know that. I just thought that you might appreciate some company." He paused, wondering how to phrase his next remarks. "And I thought you might like to know that Murdoch's calmed down again. He's not mad at you anymore."

That got his attention. Johnny's head jerked up. "He ain't?" There was a flicker of pleasure in Johnny's eyes.

Scott smiled, relieved that his brother's mood had improved instantly. He really wished he could knock Murdoch's and Johnny's heads together. The irony was how alike they were in so many ways, but neither one could see it. "No, he isn't mad anymore. Let's just say he's looking at things differently now."

Johnny ducked his head and started fiddling with his gun again. Scott waited patiently. He was starting to learn that when Johnny did this it was usually a precursor to an embarrassed admission. "That due to you, Boston?"

Scott shrugged. "We talked."

"Thanks, Scott." Johnny hesitated, started fiddling with the damn gun again.  "Look, I know..." He paused again. "I mean, I know it can't be easy, OK?  Being caught in the middle and all. But, well, I do appreciate it, OK?"

Another small step forward. He felt like cheering but contented himself with a smile of acknowledgement. "Which of the girls was it?"

Johnny gave a long sigh. He looked exhausted, like he hardly had the energy to stay upright in his chair. "I was wondering if you'd ask."

"Did you think I wouldn't care?"

Johnny took a few seconds to answer, just sat staring down at his gun as he fitted it back together. "I wasn't sure. Thought maybe in your world... I hoped you'd ask." Johnny hesitated again, loaded the gun and then weighed it in his hand before looking up at Scott. "It was Lizzie."

Scott frowned as he tried to recall which of the girls was Lizzie. Johnny helped him out. "Blue eyes, brown wavy hair. Older than the others."

"Ah, yes. I remember Lizzie. She has a dimple in her chin. Is she going to be alright?"

Johnny's expression was bleak. "I dunno, Scott. Is anyone ever really OK after that? They were a bunch of brutes..." He tailed off and stared in silence out into the dark night.

"Johnny, what you did, giving her the money, it was a very kind gesture."

Johnny turned back to stare at him. "Kind? Don't you see, if I'd dealt with it when those ranchers first asked me, this wouldn't have happened. I owed her.  This is my fault."

Scott shook his head gently, wondering how best to help. To say the right thing. "It's not your fault. Why do you hold yourself responsible for other people's failings? You could say that we're all to blame. Or none of us. The guilty men are those who carried out the act."

His brother shook his head. "I knew there'd be trouble. And I knew nobody else would deal with it. That it would be down to me. But I thought I'd make the town wait. Wanted them begging for my help. And because I did that, Lizzie suffered, so the sin is mine."

"Sin?" Scott was puzzled by Johnny's use of the word. He hadn't thought of his brother as a religious man - far from it. But it seemed an incongruous word to use.

"Yeah, sin." Johnny's face was etched with pain. He needed to be lying down but Scott knew better than to suggest it - yet. Better to wait until Johnny was too exhausted to put up a fight.  "I mean I know I'll go to hell. Nothing's going to change that. The things I've done... But sometimes I just need to do something that I know feels right, just so I can carry on living with myself."

He's serious. He really means it. Scott felt a wave of sadness sweep over him as he looked at Johnny's bowed head. And he couldn't think of a damned thing to say that would help. But he had to say something to try to ease his brother's suffering. Because suffering it undoubtedly was.

"Have you spoken to a priest?" He knew Johnny was notionally a Catholic so presumably a priest would be the right person to speak to.

Johnny gave a hollow laugh. "Not much point in that. They washed their hands of me a long time ago. Told me I'm beyond redemption."

Redemption. Never in his wildest imagination had he ever expected to be discussing religious doctrine with a gunfighter. "But I thought, in the Catholic Church, you get redemption when you repent. Isn't that all part of the process of confession?" Scott was a little hazy about the mechanics of absolution and repentance but he was sure that he recalled hearing about it in the army and at Harvard. But it was very different to the faith in which he was raised.

"Yeah, but that's it. You got to be repentant and I sure as hell ain't repentant about every man I've ever killed. Some maybe. But not all. So I'm damned."

"You really believe that?" Scott stared at Johnny in amazement. It seemed a very harsh and absolute approach. He was sure that good deeds could outweigh bad. A sort of heavenly ledger book with credits and debits.

Johnny's eyes were dulled by pain and he was shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Yeah, I really believe that." He shrugged, which caused him to wince.  "It's just how things are. So, how did you get on in Stockton?"

It wasn't a very subtle way of trying to change the subject but it was as good as any. And because he could see how exhausted Johnny was, Scott thought it would be as well to go along with it. They could discuss religion and philosophy another day.

"I've arranged for advertisements in Stockton, Modesto, across into Colorado and down towards Arizona. I would have thought that we should get some response and hopefully, somewhere in all that territory is the man we need for Green River."  Scott paused and decided to bite the bullet. "And now, do you think I could help you back to bed? I mean, I know you're absolutely fine, but it seems to me a helping hand wouldn't do any harm."

He was rewarded by a soft laugh. "Yeah, well, of course I'm fine. Never been better. But OK, just this once I'll accept a helping hand. Wouldn't want you to feel that you're just a waste of space."

Scott grinned and eased Johnny to his feet and supported him as he walked with agonising slowness back to the bed.

He was just turning to leave when Johnny spoke again. "And really? The old man's not mad at me no more?"

Scott smiled across at him. "No, he's really not angry any more. He was even talking about apologising to you tomorrow. That should be something to look forward to."

He turned away quickly, trying to suppress his smile at the look of happy confusion on Johnny's face. "Goodnight, Johnny." And as he softly shut the door, he found himself hoping that Johnny would have a good night, without any nightmares.

 

Part Nineteen

He watched Scott trudge up the stairs and felt a pang of guilt.  Scott had looked very tired when he’d arrived home.  He’d slid wearily from his horse as though he didn’t have the energy to dismount in his usual brisk manner.  He’d probably been looking forward to a nice quiet evening at home but instead he’d walked into the middle of yet another battle between his father and brother.  And yet again Scott had stepped in to play peace maker.  It seemed to be a role he had to play all too often.  And Murdoch knew that he was entirely to blame for the latest row between himself and Johnny.

He’d been so frightened for his son the previous day.  The thought that Johnny could be killed had terrified him.  But when he’d seen the boy riding home, seemingly unharmed, the sense of relief had been overwhelming.  But it had been short lived.  To discover that Johnny had been shot, could have died, had brought all his raw, unexpressed emotions flooding back.  And then to have the visit from two neighbours complaining about the amount of money Johnny had demanded for his services, it had all seemed too much to bear.

He’d been wrong footed by the visit.  He’d played his hand well though.  His visitors had left not realising that Murdoch hadn’t known about Johnny’s fee, or that Johnny had been wounded in the fight.  He’d been determined to hold Johnny’s trust.  But after they’d left he’d felt a totally irrational anger with Johnny that he’d been left in the dark about the events in town.  But now he’d calmed down he appreciated that Johnny had been in no fit state the previous evening to tell him anything about what had transpired in Green River.  And now all he felt was guilt over the way he’d lit into Johnny earlier.  Just when things had been going better between the two of them, when it seemed they were finally making some progress, he’d gone and messed it all up. 

He shivered.  The room was chilly as the fire dwindled in the hearth.  He threw some logs on and watched as the flames caught the dry wood and went licking up the chimney.  Pouring himself another whisky he reflected on Scott’s words.  Justice.  Was that really how Johnny viewed his own actions?  But there had been that business in Bitterville just a few weeks earlier.  Then Johnny had ridden in to avenge the deaths of two vaqueros.  And although Scott had insisted that it had been a joint decision, Murdoch hadn’t believed him.  He suspected that Scott had probably tried to keep the lid on the situation and failed.  Johnny Madrid had taken the law into his own hands and dealt out his own brand of revenge.  Or justice?

It certainly seemed that Johnny had been on the side of the angels then, even if his course of action was not one which Murdoch could condone.  But there was no denying that it had been a justice of sorts.  Just as the latest gunfight could be called justice.

A moral centre?  Maybe Scott was right.  Johnny had again chosen to exact revenge on the saddle tramps in Green River.  It seemed that he’d felt so strongly about it that he was prepared to risk his life in the process.  Just like he had when he’d started that suicidal ride back to draw Pardee’s men into the open.  It appeared then that Johnny’s main concern had been for the safety of the women on the ranch.

He gave a rueful laugh as the truth of Scott’s words hit home.  Johnny did usually do the right thing, but in an exceptionally unorthodox manner and without any regard for his own safety.  He could see that he’d been viewing all of Johnny’s actions from the wrong angle, but hell, the boy was hard to fathom.  Like giving all that money to the girl who’d been raped.  He could see that it was a kind gesture but to give her thirteen hundred dollars seemed excessive.  Quite why Johnny had felt it incumbent on himself to present her with that much money was beyond him.  He shook his head.  Would he ever understand what went on in Johnny’s mind?

He took another sip of his whisky as he reflected on what Sam was always saying.  That he’d never understand his son until he understood the boy’s past.  Not much chance of that at the current time and he knew he only had himself to blame.  He certainly couldn’t see Johnny confiding in him any time soon.  All he’d done was succeed in pushing the boy further away.  If only Johnny would spend more evenings at home.  But it seemed the boy went whoring at every opportunity and was certainly making a name for himself on that score.  Murdoch grimaced as he imagined what his own parents would have to say about that if they were still alive.  And God knows what Maria would say.  She certainly wouldn’t have approved of Johnny’s behaviour.  She’d always been very scathing about putains.  But Murdoch felt that it was probably politic not to point that out to Johnny.  It seemed that any mention of Maria just drove the boy even further away.  Instead, he needed to mend fences and try to repair the damage he’d inflicted on those first early buds of progress in his relationship with Johnny.

He sighed and set his glass down firmly on the table.  The easiest thing would be to leave an apology to the morning.  But it wouldn’t be the right thing.  And whilst he was all too aware that Johnny needed his rest, perhaps he needed an apology from his father even more.  He got wearily to his feet and limped towards the stairs with some trepidation.  If only he knew how to handle Johnny...  Handle him?  What was it Scott had said?  Just trust him.  Scott seemed to and he was nobody’s fool. 

He tried to ignore the tight knot in his gut as he made his way slowly towards Johnny’s room with about as much enthusiasm as a man walking to his execution.  The fact was that Johnny always unnerved him.  It was that curious stillness that the boy seemed able to achieve, it reminded him of an animal waiting to pounce on its prey.  And then there were those cool eyes that gave nothing away but seemed to look straight into the heart of a man.  Johnny Madrid would make a formidable opponent. He just hoped that under the tarnished suit of armour he would find Johnny Lancer.

Gritting his teeth, he gave a tentative tap on his son’s door.  An apology of a knock in all honesty, and he still hadn’t a clue what he was going to say.

“Yeah?”

His son’s soft drawl didn’t sound too welcoming, but he opened the door gently and eased his way into the room.  Johnny was sitting on the bed, shirtless, with the bandages showing very white against his dark skin.  He looked at Murdoch without expression and said nothing. 

“Um, I was wondering whether you needed anything?  A drink?  Something to eat?”  What a damn stupid thing to say.  About as stupid as his first ever words to the boy when he’d arrived with Scott that first day.

“Boston’s already been and asked me that.  And the answer is the same.  I’m fine.”  His tone was neutral, still giving nothing away.  For heaven’s sake, why did he always say he was fine?  Murdoch had the feeling that Johnny would say he was fine if he’d been shot full of bullets and was bleeding his last in the street.

“Was there anything else, old man?”

The drawl was casual, but those cool eyes seemed to bore right into him, as though Johnny could see his knotted gut and the thoughts somersaulting through his mind.  Murdoch nodded, feeling more reluctant than ever.  “Yes, there was.  I...  I believe I owe you an apology.  My behaviour this morning...  What I said...”

There wasn’t a flicker in those blue eyes.  Nothing.  Murdoch swallowed hard.  This wasn’t going to be easy.  But then, he’d never thought it would be.  “I shouldn’t have lit into you today.  You were right, it’s your money, it’s nobody’s business what you do with it.  And ...”   He swallowed again, looked for some reaction, but Johnny still sat motionless.  “And you were right: the people of Green River wouldn’t think any more of you if you’d done their dirty work for nothing.

“I over reacted.  I admit that I had hoped that your days of gunfighting were over.  Wanted them to be over.”  Murdoch paused, looking through the open window briefly before looking once more at Johnny.  “And when you rode into town, I was ...”  He paused again, this was so difficult.  “I was terrified.  Terrified that you’d be killed.  Five men...”  He tailed off, unsure of what to say next and embarrassed by the naked honesty of his admission.  The silence seemed to fill the room like a thick fog.  He wished Johnny would say something.  Anything.  But he still just sat motionless, watching his father intently, no flicker of emotion in those eyes at all.

“Anyway, I wanted to apologise.  And for what it’s worth, I didn’t let anything slip to those men this morning, nobody knows you were hit.”

Johnny shifted slightly, looked down at the floor briefly before meeting Murdoch’s eyes.  “I guessed you wouldn’t let me down.”

Murdoch started with surprise.  “You did?  You trusted me?”  And he felt hope surging through him.

Johnny gave a slight shrug and just the hint of a smile seemed to play at his mouth.  “Well, I figured you’d think I’d shoot you if you gave me away.”  The smile had spread now and Murdoch suddenly felt years younger.

“I really am sorry, son.  I think we’d better put it down to the release of pent up emotions.”

Johnny grinned.  “I’d say it was that you didn’t like having two men turn up knowing more about what went on in town than you did.  And the fact that you didn’t know about the money.  But if it keeps you happy we’ll just say it was pent up emotions.”

Murdoch narrowed his eyes and gave Johnny a long look.  “You know, you always were too damn smart for your own good.”

Johnny shrugged, wincing as he did so.  “How d’you think I stayed alive so long?  Dios, I’m beat.”

Murdoch wondered briefly whether to offer Johnny a helping hand into bed, but he bit back the question.  Discretion was definitely the better part of valour and now that Johnny seemed in a good mood he didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“Scott’s trip seemed to go well.”  That seemed a good neutral subject to discuss.

Johnny gave him a quick searching glance, and raised his eyebrow a fraction as though guessing the reason for the change of subject.  “Yeah, he told me.  I guess now that the trouble’s sorted out you might get someone interested in the job.”  Johnny paused as he tried to manoeuvre himself into a different position.  “But I wouldn’t bet on the people of Green River chipping in to pay for a sheriff.  Folk have got short memories.  When things are going well they don’t want to pay for nothing.  And now they’ll be resenting paying my fee.”  Johnny smiled briefly.  “They’ll just go back to treating me like shit and wanting me gone.”

Murdoch gave Johnny a shrewd look.  The boy was certainly cynical, but it was probably a realistic assessment of the situation.  “But I trust you won’t be giving them the satisfaction.”

“Hell, no.  It’s much more fun pissing them all off.”  Johnny paused and stared down at the floor before looking back at Murdoch.  “So long as you’re sure you really want me to stay.  I mean, I’d understand if you didn’t want me around.  We both know that I bring trouble, even if Boston don’t see it.  And word’s gonna get out that I ain’t dead by some firing squad and I reckon then there’ll be people coming looking for me.  So, if you want me to go, just come right out and say it.”

There was a touch of defiance in his son’s voice, as though he was daring Murdoch to be honest.  When would Johnny give up with this line of questioning?  And what did he have to say to convince the boy that he really was wanted?  God, he wished he knew how to say the right thing, but how could he when he didn’t understand what Johnny needed to hear?  Why couldn’t the boy just accept that he wanted him to stay?  He sighed and paused while he tried to figure out the best thing to say.  Things were going well, he didn’t want to put his foot in it again.  And he had to admit to himself that where Johnny was concerned he did seem to have a talent for saying the wrong thing.

“Please, son, we’ve been over this ground before and I know you seem to find it difficult to accept but I really do want you here.  If people from the past show up, well, we’ll have to deal with it, but we’ll do so as a family.  It’s still early days and we’re all still getting used to each other, but this is your home.  It’s where you were born, where you should have grown up and it’s where you belong.”  He was rewarded by a brief flicker of surprise in Johnny’s eyes.  God, the boy really did have a hard time accepting that anyone could want him.  Damn Maria, what the hell had happened to the boy in all those missing years and why was he so sure that no one would want him?  He felt he should emphasise the point.  “And as for the locals, they’ll get used to you being around.  It’ll take time, I know that, and I can see that you find it difficult to adjust, but we’ll get there.”

Johnny seemed to be studying the floor now, hunched over and not looking at him.  Any minute he’d shrug again.  Yep, there it was.  He strained to catch his son’s words.


“Well, OK.  If you’re sure.  But if you change your mind...”  Johnny’s voice tailed off.

“I won’t change my mind.  Now, I think it’s time you got some rest.”  He hesitated before deciding to risk his next question.  “Can I give you a hand into bed?”

“No, it’s OK, I’m...”

“Fine?”  Murdoch finished the sentence and felt like he’d won first prize in a contest when he was rewarded by a grin.

“Yeah, I’m just fine.”

Murdoch was opening the door when Johnny spoke again, very softly.  “Thanks, Murdoch.”

Murdoch couldn’t repress the broad smile that spread over his face.  “Goodnight, Johnny.”  And he found he had a spring in his step as he went on along the corridor to his own room to turn in for the night.

 

Part Twenty

He leaned against the corral rails and bitched.  “I tell you, if the old man makes me do any more fucking books I’m out of here.”

They didn’t trust him, he knew that, but as long as they bought the story he was selling he didn’t give a shit.  No one was going to know he’d been shot up so he just kept up the show.  That his father was mad at him about the gunfight and this was how he was making Johnny suffer.  Not that the hands would feel sorry for him.  But that wasn’t the point.  Just as long as they believed it.

The two ranch hands he was talking to looked real uncomfortable, muttered some lame excuses and shuffled off.  He smiled.  He knew he was putting them in a tight spot having to listen to him bitching about the boss.  Didn’t matter none.  It served a purpose.  It grated though.  Equal partners but everyone knew Murdoch was the boss.

He was still sore from the bullet but he’d been good, followed Sam’s orders and done damn all for days.  But it did seem that he was getting better quicker than normal.  Maybe following doctor’s orders did pay off sometimes.  Even so, he’d rather do things his way.  Hated kowtowing to anyone – even Sam.

He knew the family thought he was being dumb.  Couldn’t understand why he was so damn proud.  Couldn’t understand why he didn’t want folk in Green River to know he’d been hit.  They didn’t realise that in his game reputation was all.  Didn’t understand that he needed to be in control.  Hell, he had to be in control.  It was just his way and this was how it was going to play out.  He’d come out of this with his reputation untouched.  Another gunfight where Madrid walked away without a mark on him.  He knew he was meant to be leaving that life behind but he had to protect his reputation.  Couldn’t just let it go.  He might need it again at some stage.  If things got on top of him here, at least he’d know he could pick up his old life again – if he had to. 

Still couldn’t believe how the old man had backed down from a fight.  Hell, Murdoch had even apologised to him.  Said sorry.  Could hardly credit that.  Trouble was, now the old man was fishing.  Fishing for information about the past.  Johnny’s past.  Johnny’s mother.  Maybe not pushing hard, but pushing all the same and he sure wasn’t opening up that can of worms for some cosy chit chat with his father.  Shit, it was bad enough that he had to remember everything without fucking talking about it.  So, if things got too bad he could still walk away.  Walk back to a life he no longer wanted.  But even that would be better than talking about his mother.

Turning away from the corral he caught a glimpse of Sam driving up to the house.  Come to check up on him probably.  No one seemed to trust him, but, hell, that was nothing new.  He walked over to greet Sam as the man swung himself down from the buggy.  “There ain’t anyone here but me, Sam.  If you wanted Murdoch and Scott, they’ve gone into town to look through all them letters that keep turning up from people wanting the sheriff’s job.”

Sam nodded.  “I know, I saw them.  It’s you I wanted to see.  Find out how you’re doing.”

Johnny scowled, glancing around quickly to make sure that no one could have overheard Sam’s words.  “Best come inside then.”  He led the way into the house, where no one could see Sam give him a check over.

“I’m real fine now, Sam.  Wondered if I could maybe ride into town this week.”

Sam just shook his head.  “Take your shirt off and let me have a look at you first.  Then I’ll make a decision.”

Johnny shrugged himself out of his shirt.  “I got needs you know.”

Sam laughed.  “Yes, I know.  I think you might have mentioned your needs before.”

“So?”  Johnny leaned forward casually like it didn’t hurt no more, hoping it would show just how fit he was now.  “When can I ride again?”

“Give it another four or five days.”

Johnny stared at him, surely Sam couldn’t mean that.  Four or five days – he’d go crazy.  “Shit, Sam.  You gotta be kidding.  I’m fine.  I’ve had far worse than this, you know.”

Sam didn’t look too sympathetic.  “I know, you’ve mentioned that before as well.  But I don’t want to take any risks.  It’s not that long since you were laid up by Pardee’s bullet.”

“But that was months ago.  Come on, Sam, I need a woman.  I mean really need a woman, you hear what I’m saying?”

Sam raised an eyebrow.  “I hear you.  But you’ve waited this long and a few more days won’t kill you.” 

“It might.”  Johnny glared at him but Sam didn’t look bothered.  “I’m getting desperate.  Don’t you care?  You’re a doctor, you’re meant to care about your patients.  Take care of ’em and all that.  I might not last a few more days.”

“Tough.”  Sam was doing up his black bag.  “If it makes you feel better I’ll give your best wishes to Delice and the girls.  I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.”

Johnny snorted in disgust.  “Not as thrilled as they would be by a personal visit.”  But Sam didn’t look like he was listening.  Was shuffling his feet now, looking kind of embarrassed and rubbing his chin like he was trying to think of a way to say something. 

“Got something on your mind, Sam?”

Sam gave a soft sigh and nodded slowly.  “Yes, you.”

Johnny furrowed his brow, what the hell was that meant to mean?  He waited, watching Sam with narrowed eyes.

“Murdoch’s a very old friend of mine, Johnny, and I don’t like to see him hurting.”

“What d’you mean, hurting?”  Johnny felt wrong footed.  Shit, he hadn’t done nothing but the way Sam had said it made it sound like it was Johnny’s fault.

“He says you won’t tell him anything about your past, that it’s a forbidden subject.  Now that the two of you are getting along better, why won’t you talk to him about it?”

Johnny stared at Sam through narrowed eyes.  “He tell you to ask me that, did he?”

“No, he didn’t.  He doesn’t know that I was going to raise the subject with you and no, before you ask, we haven’t been discussing you.  It was just a couple of comments he dropped in passing – I’ve simply put two and two together.  I do care about this family and I’d like to see you settling in and becoming part of it.”

“If you care so much, Sam, I suggest you mind your own fucking business.”  Johnny spoke very softly.  “When I first arrived here, the old man said the past was dead and gone, well, that suits me just fine, so butt out.  My past is just that – mine.”

Sam snorted, like he wasn’t going to take no notice.  “Maria was his wife, it’s only natural that he wants to know about her.  I understand you’ve told him she died but you’ve told him nothing else.”

“Just leave it, Sam, OK?”  Johnny spoke softly.  He could see the sadness in Sam’s eyes as the man shook his head.

“You’re wrong, Johnny.  You need to get some things off your chest.  I guess that you’ve grown up hating and I know that life’s been tough on you.  Harder than anyone should have.  But you’re with people who care about you now.  And you need to learn to start trusting.  What happened to Maria?  How did she die?”

The blood started to pound in his head and he could feel his chest getting tighter.  He had a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach and he wanted to puke.  “Just leave it, Sam.”  The words burst out of him like bullets from a gun.  “Just leave it alone.  She got sick.  She died.  That’s an end of it.”

Except it hadn’t been like that.  Shit.  Don’t think about it.  Block it out.  Don’t fucking think about it.  All that blood and ...  He struggled to control his breathing.  Look casual.  Like everything is fine.  Don’t think about it.  Think of something else.  Anything else.  Not her.  Not him.  Not how she looked.  Or how he looked.  Anything but that.

Why the hell did Sam have to start on like this?  Wasn’t none of his business.  It was bad enough having the old man fishing without Sam joining him. 

He swung away from Sam.  Stared out of the window at his mountain in the distance, trying to block out the memory of her staring eyes and the blood.  So much blood.  His fault.  All his fault.

His mountain looked hazy in the fall sun.  Like it was bathed in some soft purple and golden silk and was calling to him.  Would there be good hunting there?  It would be good to go there some time.  A hunting trip with Boston maybe.  He loved that mountain.  It always calmed him.  It was a link.  A buried memory of another time that sometimes rode into view before disappearing in the mists of his mind.  A time when he’d been safe.  A reminder that there had been a better time.  But things never stayed the same.  That was life. 

He could feel Sam watching him.  Dios, why couldn’t the man just back off?  Boston would have known to back off.  His past wasn’t nobody’s business and he sure as hell wasn’t going to talk about it. 

“If you’re going to become part of this family, you need to start trusting people, people who care about you.  You’ve built so many walls around yourself no one can reach you and it’s time to start letting people come closer.  They worry about you, you must know that’s what families do.  Maria must have worried about you when you were a child.”

Mama worry about him?  That was a joke.  No, she was always too busy thinking about herself.  Worrying about where the next bottle was coming from.  And the next man.  Felt like that’s all she ever thought about.  Had it ever been any different?  He sure couldn’t remember a time when it had.  She’d told him often enough that he was just a nuisance and no wonder his father hadn’t wanted him.  Told him that it was all Johnny’s fault that they lived like they did.  Everything had always been his fault.  Just like the way she died.  But it didn’t do no good brooding on everything.  Couldn’t change things now.  Trouble was, the memories never went away.  They crept into his mind, filled his dreams, crowding in with his ghosts.  No wonder he never got any fucking sleep.  And if his family knew the truth they’d never get any sleep either.  The past was past and that’s how it was gonna stay – dead and buried.

“If being a family means talking about the past, I’m out of here, Sam.”  Johnny paused to let the words sink in.  And then he spoke real quiet and cold, so Sam knew he wasn’t bluffing.  “I ain’t telling nobody nothing.  Ain’t anyone else’s business and it sure as hell ain’t yours.  You stick to doctoring and leave me alone or I might just have to do something about that.  And I tell you something else, if you push it, I’ll make damn sure the old man knows who to blame when I leave.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open, like he was real shocked and then took a few seconds before he spoke.  “Are you threatening me?”  He said it like he didn’t really believe it.

Johnny smiled slowly.  “Well, I guess you could take it like that.  I ain’t bluffing.  So mind your own fucking business and stay out of mine.  I don’t need nobody telling me what I should do.  And I tell you, if I won’t take it from the old man, I sure as hell ain’t taking it from you.”

“What is it that you’re so afraid of?”

The arid heat of anger wrenched in his gut.  He leaned closer to Sam, spitting the words like venom.  “I ain’t afraid of nothing.  Nothing.  It’s a very long time since I been scared.”  And wasn’t that the truth? Because when you knew you’d had things as bad as they ever could be, there was nothing left to be scared of.

Sam shook his head slowly, looking at him with something like pity in his eyes.  “My God, but you’re a hard one aren’t you?  What the hell happened to you in those missing years?  No wonder Murdoch’s hurting if this is how you react to questions.”

“Don’t push me, Sam.”  He said it real soft, people always sensed the menace when he spoke like that.  “Now, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave now and go see to your other patients and keep out of my business.”

Sam picked up his black bag, walked to the door, before pausing.  He looked across the room at Johnny.  “You’re wrong, you know.  You’ve got to start letting people come closer before it’s too late.  You’re hurting people close to you, but the person you’re harming the most is yourself.”

Johnny turned away, his fists clenched.  Why did everyone think they could treat him like he was some little kid?  He wasn’t no kid no more.  But he felt a twinge of guilt as he heard the door close behind Sam, ’cos he’d have sworn he’d seen tears in the man’s eyes when he left.  But real men didn’t cry.  Mama said so.  So what did that make Sam?

Shit.  He kicked the door viciously, making it rattle on its hinges.  Why was life so fucking complicated?  He stood by the window, watching Sam drive away into the distance.  And now he just felt sick inside, like the anger had burned itself out leaving just an empty shell.  Maybe that’s all he was, all he could ever be.  If there’d ever been any good in him it had fizzled out long ago like a candle spluttering in the wind.  He felt old and tired.  So very tired.  Too tired to leave and take up his old life again but too old to take all this shit too.  And so here he was, back where he always found himself, not knowing whether to stay or go.

Scott and Murdoch rode into view, close together, laughing at something.  Even at a distance he could see how easy they were together.  Dios, he envied Scott that.  To be able to relax, laugh, tell a joke, be happy.  What the hell must that be like?  Figured the closest he ever got to being happy was when he was fucking and it was all too brief.  The rest of the time he felt like he was all coiled up like a goddam rattle snake waiting to strike.  Yeah, that just about summed him up, a rattle snake and nobody loved them.

Scott and Murdoch were walking into the house, still laughing together.

“Looks like we might have found the right man for the job, little brother.”  Boston was waving some piece of paper around.  “Out of all the no hopers we have found one very promising applicant.  Want to read his letter?”

Johnny decided not to rise to the little brother gibe.  He’d had enough grief for one day.  “Nope.  In my experience all sheriffs tend to be washed up ‘no hopers’ who ain’t worth passing the time of day with, so I ain’t interested.”

“I used to be a deputy in Abilene a very long time ago.”  Murdoch’s words shook him.  Johnny started in surprise.  Looked at his father who was watching him with a hint of amusement showing on his face. 

“No kidding?”  Johnny couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“No kidding, son.  But it was a very long time ago.”

Johnny gave a brief laugh.  “Well, yeah, I guess it must have been ’cos you’re real old now and you’ve been here since creation.”

Murdoch and Scott both laughed at that.  They sure were in real good moods. 

“Murdoch is going to interview the prospective sheriff next week.  We’ve wired him to come to Green River.”  Scott was looking real pleased with himself.

Johnny raised his eyebrow a fraction.  “Murdoch interviewing a sheriff.  Hell, I might even come into town for that – this I gotta see.” 

 

Part Twenty-One

He stood at the cracked window looking through the dust and cobwebs at Green River’s main street.  The people strolling along the boarded sidewalks looked affluent and contented.  Friendly too, they stopped frequently and passed the time of day with each other.  It seemed a pleasant enough town.  He could do worse.  And he couldn’t be that picky.  Decent jobs were thin on the ground.

He’d never been this far north before.  He’d spent too many years in dusty border towns.  Places where poverty was the rule of thumb and law didn’t exist.  Except for the rich.  They were always protected.  Everything worked in their favour.  He’d found that out the hard way.  And now he was listening to another rich man droning on outlining the role of sheriff.  Like he didn’t know what a sheriff’s job was, for God’s sake. 

Now the big rancher, and hell, he sure was big, was starting off on the “many benefits” of the town.  Growing community.  New businesses.  All the usual stuff.  God, the man could talk. 

“We did have some trouble a short while ago.  A bunch of saddle tramps took over the town.  A girl was raped.  It was all very unpleasant but the saddle tramps were dealt with.  It’s all quiet and back to normal now.”

He half turned at the words “dealt with.”  Chewed on his lip and eyed the rancher thoughtfully.  Dealt with.  Hmm.  He’d heard that one before.  Reckoned that the good upstanding people of Green River had gone out and bought themselves a hired gun.  In fact, it had to be more than one hired gun if there’d been a bunch of saddle tramps causing havoc.  He’d only ever known one gunfighter capable of taking on a parcel of saddle tramps and he was long dead.  Several months now.  He’d raised a glass to him when he heard he’d died.  A glass?  Hell, he’d drunk the whole bottle and the best part of a second.

He dragged his mind back to the present.  The rancher was asking him something.  “So, if we were to offer you the position, would you be interested?”

He turned back to the stained window.  The town seemed as good a place as anywhere to settle.  He was about to answer but the words froze in his throat as his gaze fell on a man walking up the main street.    He felt dazed, shook his head and took a longer look.  God Almighty.  He must be seeing things.  He felt like the blood in his veins had turned to ice.  He had to be imagining things.  That man was dead.  But that swagger...  A voice in his head hammered away, screaming that it was who he thought it was. 

His mind hurtled back to the very first time they’d met.  He’d ridden into some squalid border town.  A real hole.  All he’d wanted was a drink and a woman.  But he’d seen some kids kicking at a bundle of rags on the ground.  Except it hadn’t been a bundle of rags.  It had been a kid.  He’d got off his horse, just to make sure that the kid was OK.  And then he’d seen the boy’s back.  Christ almighty.  He’d almost puked.  The boy had been whipped but it was the state of the wounds that had caused his gut to heave.  Maggots.  Maggots in the wounds.  Christ, did no one take care of the kid?  And then the kid had raised his head.  Had wild blue eyes, but the kid had looked at him like he was a hero.

And God the kid had been thin.  Every damn bone stuck out through the ragged white clothes.  It had been painful to see him.  So, he’d taken the kid to a doctor, taken him for a meal.  He’d have sworn the kid was so thin he could see the shape of the food in him when he’d done eating.  But shit, fire had burned in those eyes.  Fire, anger and hate.  Lots of hate.

The kid had told him he was going to be a pistolero.  The best.  The fastest.  But he’d known the kid would never last that long.  Reckoned he’d be dead within a year.

But he’d underestimated that kid.  Must have been the hate that kept him alive ’cos years later he’d seen him again.  Didn’t recognise him though but he recognised the name the kid now used.  He’d clawed his way up and become a name to dread.  A name that struck fear in the hearts and minds of other men, made them cold inside.  And he’d still been full of hate.  But he’d been weary too.  The fighting had taken its toll and he’d looked as old as Satan.  Strange, but the kid had recognised him.  After all those years the kid remembered him.  Even paid for his dinner, saying he always paid his debts.  They’d spent a day or two in each other’s company.  Had a few games of cards.  Had a few drinks.  And then gone their separate ways.

But he was dead.   The voice still screamed in his head fighting with what he could see before him.  Yeah.  He’d drunk more than that one bottle when he heard the kid had finally met his end in front of some damn firing squad.  And he’d have laid money that the kid would have faced that hail of bullets with his usual bravado.  And he’d got so drunk that night while he raised his bottle to a man who deserved better in this world than a bloody death on some god forsaken hillside and an unmarked grave.

He shook his head in disbelief as he watched the young man stroll across the main street like he owned the town.  So familiar.  So foreign.  The gun was worn very low on his hip.  His hat tilted down to hide his eyes and still that swagger.  No trace of the scrawny starving child.  But it was him.  The same man.  And he sure didn’t look dead.

Now he understood why this town was suddenly so fired up to get itself a sheriff.  They must have hired this man to deal with the saddle tramps and now wanted shot of him.  Just like people always did after their dirty washing was taken care of.  And now, he guessed, their gun wouldn’t leave.

He turned angrily to the rancher, who was stood still waiting for an answer.  “You couldn’t even be straight with me, could you?  You ain’t no better than any other rich folk I’ve met in my time.  You all want things your way.  Want everyone kowtowing to you and dancing to your tune.  But if you think I’m going to take him out for you,” he jerked his head towards the street, “then you’ve got the wrong man.  I got news for you, I ain’t in the business of taking on gunfighters.  I thought all you wanted was a lawman.  I should have known better.”

The rancher, what was his name?  Lancer?  Yeah, Lancer, made a good show of acting surprised.  Looked real confused, screwing up his face.  “I’m sorry, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.   You were asked here because you applied for the position of sheriff and on paper you appeared to be the most promising candidate.  I really don’t understand...”

He interrupted.  “Don’t feed me a load of bullshit.  You think I didn’t just see Madrid walking down your main street?  What happened, did you bring him in to sort out your trouble for you and now you’re stuck with him?  That it, is it?  Well, I tell you, there ain’t a sheriff alive who could sort him out for you.  And I sure as hell ain’t trying it for a lousy thirty five dollars a month.”

Lancer had paled at the name Madrid.  Yeah, well he might now that he’d been caught out.  Looked real flustered.  And had turned bright red.  A pulse was throbbing at the side of the man’s head.  Seemed like he’d well and truly tipped over Lancer’s apple cart.

The man seemed to struggle for words.  But not for long.  “I can assure you, that you were not invited here to take out Madrid as you put it.”

He interrupted.  “Now you’re not going to tell me that it wasn’t Madrid who sorted out the spot of bother, are you?  Because I tell you, Lancer, I won’t believe you.”

The rancher had turned a real funny shade of purple now.  “No.  I wasn’t going to tell you that.  And let me tell you, I don’t like your tone.”

“You don’t like my tone?  Well, that’s rich, because I ain’t too keen on yours either.  And I think the reason I’m here is because the people of Green River want shot of Johnny Madrid.  But I tell you, there ain’t a man alive who could take out Madrid in a straight fight.  Only way they’ll get shot of him is a bullet in the back, and that ain’t my style.”

“Dammit, man, will you just listen.”  The vein was pulsing hard.  “You are not here because anyone wants to get rid of Johnny Madrid.  Perhaps, before this interview degenerates any further, I should tell you that I am very proud to call Johnny Madrid my...”

The door of the office creaked open, rickety on its rusty hinges.

“How’s it going Murdoch?”  And then the man in the doorway paused, stood stock still staring at him open mouthed, lost for words, briefly. Very briefly.  “Holy shit!  Val?  That really you?  Well, fuck me!  Don’t tell me you’re our new sheriff?”

And he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.  Trust the kid to say plenty!  And his language hadn’t improved neither.  Always did have a mouth on him.  Someone should have washed it out with soap years ago.

“Shit!  Val Crawford as I fucking live and breathe.  Dios!  Hell!  You offered him the job, Murdoch?  You could do a lot worse.”

Lancer seemed as confused as Val.  And looked real embarrassed, which struck him as odd.  “Well, I, um, I was about to but he seemed to have some reservations.  Um, he seemed to be under the impression that he’d been brought here to, um, ‘take you out.’”  Madrid started laughing like that was the best joke he’d heard in a month of Sundays. 

“Val?  Val couldn’t take me out, and I gotta feeling he wouldn’t want to.”

The rancher paused, looked at Madrid curiously.  “I rather gather that the two of you are acquainted.”

Val shook his head slowly.  “You mean you ain’t looking for a sheriff just to deal with Madrid?”  Val’s head felt like it hadn’t done so much thinking and been so muddled in a very long time.

Lancer shuffled his huge feet and looked real uncomfortable.  “Well, no, actually.  Mr Crawford, as I was just about to explain to you when he walked in, this is my son, but I gather that you have met before.”

“Your son?”  Val shook his head in disbelief.  Stared around the room hoping to buy himself a second to gather his wits together.  None of this made any sense.  He knew exactly what fate Madrid had intended for his father.  He’d spent very little time in Madrid’s company but even so he’d told Val more than once just what he was going to do to his father when he finally hunted him down.  Plotting revenge had occupied Madrid’s mind a great deal.  And yet here he was, seemingly on quite easy terms with the rancher.  None of this made sense.

Madrid was grinning now, that really cocky grin that you didn’t see too often.  “Yeah, Val.  Meet my old man.  Murdoch.”  He turned toward the rancher.  “You gotta give Val this job, he’s OK.”

Lancer was silent for a second, viewed Madrid thoughtfully with just a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.  “He’s OK.”  The man mimicked Madrid’s words, but like he was teasing him.  Shit, that was taking a risk.  No one teased Madrid.  But oddly, Madrid didn’t look too bothered, just kept grinning.

Lancer let loose the smile, so it took right over.  “It seems, Mr Crawford, that I have little choice in this matter.  You seem to have my son’s approval so the job is yours if you would like it.”

Madrid didn’t give him a chance to answer.  “He wants it.  And now Val, you and me going to go get a drink.”  He turned briefly towards the rancher.  “Don’t hold dinner.  Me and Val gotta lot of catching up to do.”

He threw his arm around Val’s shoulders.  “Come on, I want you to meet a friend of mine.”  He led him out into the main street and started walking purposefully towards the far end of town, past the saloon.

Val still couldn’t quite believe it was Madrid.  He seemed, different, that was it, different somehow.  Not quite so tense.  “You’re dead.”  He couldn’t think of anything else to say.  “Hell, Johnny, I got real drunk ’cos I heard you were dead.”

“Takes more than a firing squad to finish me, Val.  They just weren’t man enough for the job.”

Well, seemed some things never changed.  He’d sure still got a real high and mighty view of his own importance.  “If we’re having a drink, we just walked past the saloon.”

Johnny paused briefly, gave him a slow smile and then said in that familiar drawl, “Well, I really ain’t too popular in there right now.  Kind of messed the place up a while ago and Mac, the barman, ain’t overly fond of me.”

“I’m guessing, when you say messed it up, you took out the saddle tramps in there.”

“You know as well as me, Val, more cover inside.”  Johnny pulled him on towards a tall, imposing building at the far end of the street.  “I thought we’d have a drink here.  The owner’s a friend of mine.  Best whorehouse in town.”

Val shook his head, exasperated now.  What the hell was it with Madrid and women?  No, some things never changed.  Johnny Madrid was always a devil for the women.  Never could get enough.  Val wondered where the hell Johnny got his energy from, he’d never known a man go at it like Madrid.  Heck, he’d seen him go upstairs with several women at a time and none of ’em had been complaining the next morning.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Johnny.  Like how you ain’t dead.”

“When we’ve got a drink.  Let’s get that first.”  Johnny pushed open the imposing oak door and led him into the “best whorehouse in town.”  To tell the truth, Val was surprised that Green River had a whorehouse, never mind one as fancy as this.  It boasted a gleaming zinc topped bar, fancy iron tables, lamps with real smart shades with sort of tasselled things hanging down and wine red velvet drapes.  He let out a low whistle.  And the girls, heck, real pretty, not rough like so many of the girls in their trade. 

The girls came crowding round, crushing against Madrid as the two of them tried to make their way to a corner table at the back.  Typical Madrid.  Always had to have the corner table.  No.  Some things never changed.

Johnny was joking with them all.  He could turn on the charm when he wanted to, that was for sure.  A tall woman emerged from an office by the side of the bar.  Dang, she was ugly.  Her face was chalk-white and her scarlet lipstick seemed to make it look even paler.  Val shuffled uncomfortably as she stood watching them, surrounded as they were by all the girls pawing at Madrid.  She pursed up her lips and it was hard to tell if she was mad at ’em or maybe, just maybe, she was amused.  “Ma’am.”  He had to say something, sure wouldn’t want to rub her up the wrong way.  She gave him a kind of curt nod, looking him up and down like she thought she might have seen him on a wanted poster.  He stood a bit straighter and hoped that his boots weren’t muddy.

“Back so soon, Johnny?  I didn’t expect you in today.”  Strange, she sounded like she had class, educated, bit different to the usual madams he’d met over the years.

Johnny turned and glanced at her, smiling, real easy.  “Delice, want you to meet an old friend of mine, Val Crawford.  Val, this is Miss Delice Martin.”

She didn’t look impressed.  “A friend of yours?”  She raised a painted eyebrow fractionally.  “And do tell me, Johnny, is Mr Crawford in the same line of work as you?”

He watched Johnny’s reaction with interest.  Her words sure stopped him in his tracks.  Johnny ducked his head down, a trait he remembered from old, before looking back at her and then talking real soft.  Real Madrid.  “No, Delice, he ain’t a gunfighter.”  Val could have sworn that Johnny’s lips twitched at the very idea – like he was holding back a laugh.  Cheeky bastard.  Just ’cos everyone wasn’t as fast as he was...  “Val is your new sheriff.”

The woman, Delice, looked kinda taken aback at that.  Looked real thoughtful too.  Then folded her arms, tilted her head to one side and looked at Madrid real hard.  “Our new sheriff?”

Madrid nodded.  “Yeah, Delice, your new sheriff.”

She nodded like she was deep in thought.  Nodded real slow.  “Well, that’s really going to impress the good folk of Green River, knowing that the new sheriff is an old friend of Johnny Madrid.”  She paused.  What the hell was coming next?  “Because we know how much the town folk love you, Johnny, don’t we?  Boy, are they going to be pleased.”

Val gave a nervous swallow.  Shit.  Damn woman had a point.  Probably the people of Green River weren’t too keen on having Johnny Madrid for a neighbour...

Johnny just looked thoughtful.  Kicked at the floor with his boot – just like he used to when he was considering a problem.  Then he flashed her one of those smiles.  The kind that seemed to leave folk breathless, not quite able to believe that someone could smile like that when they had a mind to.  “You might have a point there, Delice.  Maybe, we’ll play down just how long I known Val.  Maybe it’s for the best.”

She smiled then.  A kind of indulgent smile, like a mother gives a kid who’s always in trouble.  “You wanted a drink?  I’m not running a bar you know.”

Johnny grinned at her.  He really did seem at ease with her.  “Yeah, I know, but Mac ain’t too happy with me.  You know that.  A bottle of tequila would do good.”  Johnny paused.  “You got any good stuff?  That stuff you normally serve is real rot gut.”

She narrowed her eyes, gave him a certain kind of look.  “My customers don’t normally come here to drink.  We have other attractions.  In case you hadn’t noticed.”

Madrid started laughing.  “Yeah, I noticed.  But just this once, Delice, a good bottle?  He is going to be sheriff, and you need to be nice to him.”

The woman gave a real loud sigh.  “OK, but don’t tell everyone.  It could ruin my reputation.”

That made Madrid laugh more.  “What reputation?”

The woman turned and walked off laughing, calling at all the girls to leave Mr Lancer alone.  Lancer?  Shit.  None of this made no sense at all. 

He sat at the table, where a bottle of best tequila was placed in front of him by a pretty dark haired girl, and wondered how to phrase the question that was playing on his mind.  “So, Johnny, it seems you ain’t dead.  But what I want to know, if I take this job, is whether someone’s gonna turn up some time with a wanted notice for you. I’ll be straight with you.  If I take the job I’ll do it right and if you’re wanted somewhere, I will hand you over.  So, I’ve been straight with you and now I want a straight answer.  Are you wanted anywhere and is there anything you should tell me about?”

 

Part Twenty-Two

He poured them each a generous measure of tequila, buying himself some time.  Stared into the bottom of his glass.  He could feel Val’s eyes boring into him.  Waiting for an answer.  Shit.  Val.  He could hardly believe it.  Thought Val would have been long dead by now.  Hell, should have been dead by now.  Val hadn’t been much of a gun.  But then, that had never been Val’s aim.  He’d been a man looking for revenge.  Maybe he’d found it.  And now wanted to put the past behind him.

What would that be like?  To turn your back on everything without having to worry about your past creeping up on you, all stealthy like, like a big cat waiting to pounce, and you didn’t even know it was there.  A man’s past could take him by surprise.  Let your guard down just a fraction and...   Never drop your guard.  Even when with old friends.  No.  Val wasn’t never a friend.  Didn’t know him well enough to call him that. Didn’t really know any man well enough to call him that.  But Val was a good man.  And he owed Val.  Owed.  Yeah.  Owed him everything if truth be told.  But then again, maybe not.

And maybe not the straight answer he was demanding.  Because there was the business in Utah.  Tried not to think about that too often.  But it lay in the back of his mind, kind of dozing, and every now and then, it jumped up and bit him and he’d find himself watching his back even more than usual.  Yeah, Utah.  If he was wanted anywhere, it would be there.  But if they figured he was dead, maybe there wasn’t no wanted poster.  And he’d taken measures to cover his tracks, ’cos he sure didn’t intend to hang.  Hanging was possibly the only thing he feared.

He smiled, real casual.  Put some salt on his hand and tipped back his tequila.  “Wanted?  Me?  You know me better that that, Val.”  And he sucked a piece of lime, looking all relaxed.  Except Val didn’t know him that well and he sure as hell wasn’t telling him about Utah.  Wasn’t telling no one about Utah.

Val looked relieved.  “Well, OK then.  That’s fine.  So, how come you ain’t dead?  I heard you met your end in front of a Rurales’ firing squad.  But you’re the healthiest looking corpse I’ve ever seen.”

He smiled at that.  Good old Val.  Always called a spade a spade except when it was a shovel.  “Almost did, Val, almost did.”  He spoke softly.  Still couldn’t quite believe what had happened on that suffocating hot day, hot as Hades it had been.  Sometimes he thought maybe he was dead and all of this was just a dream to taunt him and God would suddenly jump out and take it all away, to punish him even more, because he didn’t deserve shit.  Didn’t deserve nothing.  And certainly didn’t deserve this new life, this promise of something better.

“So.  Spill the beans.”

Where to start?  How to describe it?  This lifeline thrown to a drowning man, sinking in the pit of blood and bodies and bullets.  This sudden glimpse of heaven.  It had to be God’s joke.  With the joke being on Johnny Madrid because it would all come crashing down like a building on shifting sand.

“A Pink.”  He smiled briefly at the memory of the starchy man, in his suit and hat, so totally out of place.  “A Pinkerton man.  Sent by my father to track me down.”  He laughed now.  It was all so crazy, so unbelievable.  “I was in front of the firing squad.  The next one in line.  They’d shot Luis and I was next.  Just getting to my feet and this fellow come riding up in a buggy like he’s got the hounds of hell snapping at his heels.  Hell, I was angry with him, interrupting things.  I mean, I was ready for it all, I was so fucking tired.  And the next thing I know he’s asking for me.  Me.  Turned out he’d been trying to find me for ages, since creation it seems.  And he said my father would pay me a thousand dollars for an hour of my time.”

Val let out a low whistle.  “A thousand dollars?  For an hour?  That has to be the easiest money any man’s ever made.”

“Hell, Val, you know me, I’d have gone to hell for a thousand dollars.  But all I could think.”  Johnny paused, remembering how the hate had been eating away at his soul.  Devouring every bit of him.  “All I could think was how funny it was that the man who saved my life had just signed his own death warrant.  I was gonna kill him.  You know that.  But, I’d promised you I’d hear him out.  Hear the man out, you said.  Two sides to every story.”

Johnny paused, thinking hard.  Plotting.  Always plotting.  “I guess the Rurales might want me, but I guess maybe that don’t count, being the other side of the border an’ all.”  Yeah, that would take Val’s mind off wondering if there was anything else he could be wanted for.

Val shrugged.  “It don’t count, so don’t worry about it.  I’m more interested in hearing about you and your Pa.  So, you listened to my advice. Come on, I’m waiting.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow, just a fraction.  Some folk were so easy to play.  Feed them a fat worm and then just reel them in.  He’d sure got Val’s attention and he wasn’t thinking about wanted posters no more.  Figured he’d played his hand well.  Just a touch more but don’t overplay.  “Figured I should mention the Rurales, I’m trying to be straight with you here.”  He paused, let the words sink in.  “Wouldn’t want you finding out about that and thinking I hadn’t been square with you.”

Val gave a grunt of irritation.  “I just said, if you’d open your ears and listen, it don’t count, so forget it.”

Johnny flashed him a smile, like he was real relieved by Val’s words.  “Like I said, I remembered what you said, and I heard the man out.”  He paused again.  This was the tough part.  How to say his mother had just been a lying whore who’d fed him a pack of lies all his life.  How he didn’t have to have lived the life he had.  That there’d been somewhere safe all along.  Safe from the beatings and all the other things they’d done.  Shit.  Sam had to be fucking loco if he thought Johnny was going to talk to his old man about that stuff.  Funny thing, though, he’d always figured that Sam suspected what his mother’s men had done to him.  He tried to drag his mind back to Val, but the fight with Sam was still raw.  And it hurt.  And he didn’t know how to put it right.

Val gave a big sigh, real impatient like.  “So?”

Johnny shrugged.  “Seemed things weren’t like I thought.  Must have misunderstood my mother I guess.  Got things muddled in my head.”

Val gave him a look, like he knew exactly what Johnny wasn’t going to admit, that his mother was just a lying whore.  “Muddled in your head?”

“Yeah.”  Johnny shot him a defiant look, daring him to say more.  But he knew Val would back off.  Wouldn’t push it.  Val knew what Johnny’s mother had been.  Hell, that very first time he’d met Val, when Val had ridden in and got his back fixed up, Johnny had offered Val a go at Mama.  Told Val she was a real cheap whore who’d do him for free.  A real good fuck.  What a thing to say about your own mother.  But it’d been true.  Hell, the men had queued up to give her one. 

“So what happened during this hour of your time?”  Val’s voice brought him back to the present.

Johnny smiled.  “He offered me a share of his ranch in return for sorting out a bunch of land pirates.  D’you ever come across Day Pardee?”

Val sat back in his chair, screwed up his eyes at the effort of trying to remember.  “I know the name.  Ain’t sure that I ever met him.”

“Yeah, well, I knew Day.  And I knew his methods.  And I figured that a share of 100,000 acres was worth taking a few chances for.”

Val let out another low whistle.  “One hundred thousand acres!  Shit, that’s one big spread Johnny.  And you own half of it?”

Johnny shook his head.  “Nope, not half.”

Val interrupted.  “So your Pa wasn’t exactly divvying it up equal?”

Johnny paused, gave Val a long look.  “Oh yeah, he was.  You see, I ain’t just got me a Pa.”  He paused again, playing Val, got him on a string now.  “I got me a brother too.”

He sat back, pleased with the result of his little game.  Val looked lost for words.  Speechless.  Opened his mouth to speak then closed it again.  Then opened it again.  “A brother?  What kind of a brother?  Half Mex like you?  Did he grow up at the ranch?  Does that mean you got a step mother?  Well?  Don’t just sit there smirking, like the cat that got the cream, dammit.”

Johnny pushed his glass in small circles on the table, he was enjoying this.  Loved to string things out.  And it was getting Val real riled.  Yeah, Johnny Madrid had the upper hand, just the way he liked it.

“Jesus, Madrid.  You always were one irritating son of a bitch.  An’ it grieves me to say you ain’t changed any.”

Johnny sipped his tequila.  Real slow.  Eyed Val over the top of his glass.  Raised an eyebrow like he was surprised.  “You want to know about my brother?” 

Val narrowed his eyes and glared at him.  “Well, as it happens, yes.  I’m still getting used to the idea that you ain’t shot your Pa full of holes and suddenly you got yourself a brother.  So.  What... is... he...like?”

Johnny sucked on a piece of lime.  Sat back in his chair.  “Put it this way, Val, you’ll never believe we’re related.”  Johnny had to laugh.  Shit.  Him and Boston.  Who’d have thought it.  “He’s older than me.”

That stopped Val in his tracks.  Gave Johnny a real intense look, and then nodded his head real slow.  “Your Mama know about this brother, did she?”

Val was no fool.  Cut straight to the chase.  Johnny pushed his drink in circles again. Nodded slowly.  “So I’m told.”

“But she never mentioned it to you?”

“Johnny shrugged.  “Must have slipped her mind, I guess.”

Val looked at him from under half lowered eyes.  “Yeah.  I guess it must have slipped her mind.”  Val paused, took a drink.  “So, what’s he like, this brother of yours?”

Johnny grinned.  “He looks a real dandy.  From out east.  Seems his ma died when he was born and he was raised by her folk in Boston.  Went to some fancy school out east.  Served in the cavalry in the war.”

Val rolled his eyes.  “So, you two don’t get along.”

Johnny stared down at the table.  Funny thing was, he trusted old Boston more than any man he’d ever met.  “He’s OK.”  Those simple words spoke volumes.  And they weren’t lost on Val.

“He’s OK?  A dandy?”

“Yeah, Val.  He’s OK.  He’s called Scott.  He was meant to be here today to interview you, along with Murdoch, but someone had to go to Stockton and he went.  I didn’t want to miss the idea of Murdoch interviewing a sheriff.  And besides.”  Johnny paused, just this once he’d be honest.  “I guess the old man would rather Scott handles business things, him being educated an’ all.”

Val pushed his chair back and eyed Johnny, real thoughtful.  “You know what your old man was in the middle of saying when you walked in earlier?  He was just giving me hell for suggesting that I’d been called in to get rid of Johnny Madrid.  And he said that he was proud to call Johnny Madrid his... and then you walked in.  And, you know what, I think he was about to say that he was proud to call Johnny Madrid his son.  So maybe, he don’t think you’re as dumb as you seem to think he does, even if you do have a fancy dan for a brother.”

Johnny was silent.  Couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.  But there was a lump in his throat.  Proud?  The old man?  Of Johnny Madrid?  And yet the old man had said it before.  Back when Johnny had first turned down the town to sort out the saddle tramps.  Bet the old man wouldn’t be proud if he knew about Utah.  No.  He’d want to see him hang if he knew about that.  And he wouldn’t be too pleased if he knew about his recent fight with Sam.  Shit.  He’d have to do something about that.  Funny how Sam had gotten to him.  Didn’t like leaving things as they were.  But Sam was just too keen to talk about the past.  Or get him to talk about the past.  And that brought him back to Val.  He’d have to do something about Val.  Didn’t want anyone knowing about their history.  In this game image was all.  Image.  Reputation.  And a scrawny starving kid didn’t fit that picture. Shit, couldn’t believe now he’d been dumb enough to tell old Boston about the man who’d seen to his back.  Scott would want to welcome Val like his best friend.  Next thing everyone would fucking know about how they’d met.  No.  It wouldn’t do at all.

“Thing is, Val.  When you meet Scott, I don’t want you to tell him how we met.”

Val stared at him.  “What the hell does it matter, Johnny, how we met.  I would have thought your family would be interested.  Particularly as they’re paying my wages.”

Johnny gave a slight smile.  Raised his eyebrows slightly, Val had just played right into his hands.  “Well, yeah, actually, I guess we are paying your wages.  So, I guess, Val, that’s all the more reason why you should do as I ask.  Just keep quiet about where we met.  Not too much to ask is it?”  Johnny paused.  How far could he push it?  “I mean, I’d hate to have to tell them about some of the things in your past.”

Val’s face was a picture.  Disbelief, indignation and anger, all mixed up.  “Are you threatening me, Johnny?”

 

Part Twenty-Three

“Well?  I’m waiting for an answer.  Are you threatening me?”

He watched in growing irritation as Johnny pushed his glass of tequila around in circles on the table.  That was something else he’d forgotten about Madrid.  You went for drinks with him and he drank damn all.  But always made sure that his drinking companions got drunk.  Manipulative, that summed him up.  Devious.  Always had been.  Probably always would be.

Johnny sighed.  “Seems like I been doing a lot of that recently.”

Val narrowed his eyes.  He didn’t think Johnny’s reply made anything any clearer.  What the hell did Madrid mean by that?  “Is that a yes or a no?”

Johnny shot him a quick glance before staring back down at his glass.  “No, Val, I ain’t threatening you.”  He paused.  “Just stating a fact.  I don’t want no one screwing things up for me.  I do that well enough on my own.”

Val leaned back in his chair.  “Stating a fact?  Sounded like a threat to me, Johnny.  And I don’t expect that from you.”

Johnny looked up at that.  His eyes narrowed like he was angry.  “Why?  Because I owe you?  I pay my debts.”

Val shook his head.  “No, not because you owe me.  I just think you’re a better man than that.  The sort of man who don’t threaten people who ain’t never done him any harm.”

Johnny laughed but it wasn’t a happy laugh.  “You don’t know me at all.  You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

Val looked at him sadly.  Earlier he’d been unable to see any trace of that starving kid, now it felt like he was sharing a drink with that bitter, wild child.  Madrid might have landed himself a share of a damn big ranch but it wasn’t making him none too happy.  What line had Madrid spun his family?  How much did they know about him?  He had to ask.  “Just what have you told your Pa about the past?” 

Johnny smiled.  But the smile didn’t reach his eyes.  “Nothing.  I ain’t told him nothing.  And that’s the way it’s staying.”  Johnny paused and drummed his fingers on the table.  “He’s got a Pinkerton report on me but I reckon it’s got a lotta crap in it.  Some of the stories in it...”  Johnny shook his head.  “And the stories that ain’t...  Dios!”  The fingers were drumming faster now.

Val eyed him curiously.  “What does he know about your Ma?”

If he’d wanted a reaction he got one.  Johnny’s fists clenched and he banged them down on the table almost knocking the drinks over.  The girls and Miss Martin were all staring at them, shocked, like they didn’t normally see Madrid behave like that.  They’d probably only seen the charming side.  But there was another side to Madrid and he shouldn’t be underestimated.

Johnny leaned across the table and his words sounded more like a snake hissing than a man.  “He don’t know nothing, Val, and that’s the way it’s staying.”

“So he don’t know how your Ma earned her living?”  Might as well push his luck and get things clear.

Johnny narrowed his eyes.  Spoke real quiet.  Shit, he looked cold.  And deadly.  “No.  He don’t know how she earned her living.  And there ain’t no man alive going to tell him.  Not if he wants to stay living.  If you get my drift.”

Val wondered what the hell Lancer did know about his son’s upbringing.  Or lack of it.  “What does he think she did to put food on the table?”

Johnny sighed.  His shoulders slumped and he seemed calmer again.  Less deadly.  “I told him she worked in a cantina.”

“Makes sense.”  Val kept his tone level.  Last thing he wanted to do was piss off Madrid.

“Where’s the point in telling a man his wife was a whore?”  Johnny shook his head slightly.  “Seemed better to say she worked in a cantina.”

“Yeah.  Much better.”  Especially when the woman in question had been a dirt cheap whore who made her living on her back.  He’d asked around a bit after he’d first met Johnny.  And everyone told him the same thing.  The boy’s mother was a half crazy drunk.  A real looker who was a damn good fuck if you weren’t too choosy about the surroundings.  By all accounts the place they lived in was a real hovel and the kid just ran wild as an alley cat.  How the hell had the wife of a wealthy rancher like Lancer ended up in that situation?  Maybe she had gone mad.  Might explain things. 

Johnny was watching him from half closed eyes.  What the hell went on in that head of his?  He was clever, that was for sure.  Too damn clever.  He liked Johnny.  Liked him a lot, if he was honest.  Johnny usually ended up on the right side in range wars from what he’d heard.  And he’d put his life on the line in that revolution to help a bunch of peasants.  He seemed to have a strong sense of right and wrong.  But even so, he wasn’t sure he’d trust him too far.  But given his childhood, wasn’t surprising he was so screwed up.  No, not surprising at all.  The only surprising thing was that he’d survived this long.  What the hell did Lancer make of it all?  Could almost feel sorry for the man.  Might have a bulging wallet and a parcel of land, but he’d got himself one hell of a son to cope with.

“So, what you’re saying is you don’t want me to mention anything about how we met.  Either to your brother or your father.  Or else you’ll mention some interesting little facts about me, kind of as pay back.”

At least Madrid had the grace to look uncomfortable.  Shuffled in his seat, started fiddling with that damn glass again.  Shrugged his shoulders and bit his lip.  “Sorry, Val.  It don’t sound too good when you put it like that.”

“Nope.  It don’t.”

“Thing is, Val, I am trying to settle here.”  He raised his head and looked Val straight in the eyes.  Shit.  He looked like a man who’d had enough.  All wore out.  Kind of bleak. Hell, who was he kidding?  Madrid looked old.   Old way beyond his years.  And yet, he’d got a share of one of the biggest ranches in the state.  And walked away from a firing squad.  Any other man would be happy.

“Tell you one thing, Johnny.”  Val shook his head in disbelief.  “Walking away from that firing squad.  Ending up with all this.”  He waved his arm vaguely in the direction of where he figured the ranch was.  “You got the luck of the devil.”

His words seemed to amuse Johnny.  Gave a laugh.  Even had a swig of his tequila.  “Yeah, Val.”  Val found he almost had to strain to catch Madrid’s words.  “The luck of the devil.  You know what they say?  Only the good die young and the devil takes care of his own.”

Val watched him.  Best not to say anything, he figured.  Madrid seemed to have retreated out of reach.  Shit, he was in a state.  On the edge.  How the hell had he lived this long?  Madrid was fiddling now with some sort of bead bracelet.  His hands forever moving.  Never still.  What sort of man wore bead bracelets, for God’s sake?  Had to admit though, Madrid got away with it.  And even if he didn’t, Val knew better than to mention it.  Not a man to tangle with. 

“Like I said.  I am trying to settle.” 

It was kind of strange, but Madrid almost sounded like he was pleading.  Johnny Madrid pleading?  If he hadn’t heard it with his own ears he’d never have believed it, but it sure sounded that way.  “Johnny, I ain’t going to say squat to anyone.  You and me, well, that ain’t nobody’s business I reckon.  I ain’t the sort of fellow to go chewing the fat over the past with no one.  What’s between you and me, well, it’s just that.  Between you and me.  So, I won’t be talking to your Pa or your fancy dan brother, so quit your worrying.  And for God’s sake, stop fiddling with that damn glass.  You’re gonna wear out the table.”  Val cast a glance in the direction of the classy madam.  “And somehow, I don’t think she,” he jerked his head towards the bar, “would be very pleased about it.”

His words had the desired effect.  Madrid grinned.  Like he relaxed suddenly.  “Delice?  Now don’t tell me you’re nervous of Delice?  Hell, she’s as soft as butter.”

Val narrowed his eyes, glared at Madrid.  “I ain’t a fool, Johnny, so don’t treat me like one.  Shit, she’s one tough nut.  Not one I’d care to crack.”

Johnny glanced over to where the Madam stood talking to a couple of her girls.  “To be honest, Val, I ain’t sure anyone’s ever had a crack at her. And there ain’t a customer who’d dare even lay a finger on her arm.”  Johnny paused, sat back in his chair, like he was considering a problem.  “Got to say, she’s a bit of a puzzle.  But I like her.  She’s OK.”

Shit.  That was real praise coming from Madrid.  “So, we OK, Johnny?  Or are you planning on shooting me?”

“No.  I ain’t planning on shooting you, Val.  Just want to give things here my best shot.  I promised the local doc I’d give it my best shot.”  Johnny tailed off.  Looked tense again.  And started drumming his fingers again like his words reminded him of something. 

Seemed like a good idea to distract Madrid from whatever was playing on his mind.  “So, the local doc, is he a friend of yours?” 

Madrid drummed his fingers faster.  Ignored the question.  Seemed that asking about the local doctor wasn’t one of the best ideas he’d ever had.  Madrid sure looked tense.  Something was bugging him, that was for sure.   Something to do with the local doctor?  Didn’t seem likely, but who could tell. Madrid was a complicated son of a bitch.  God help Murdoch Lancer.

“What about you Val?  You still hunting for them comancheros?”

Val leaned forward over his drink, and avoided looking at Madrid.  No way was he getting into that conversation.  “Let’s just say, Johnny, I ain’t hunting anyone no more.”

He could feel Johnny’s gaze boring into him but he knew Johnny would back off.  He’d always know not to press a man.

“Sure thing, Val.  Whatever you say.”  Johnny spoke softly.  Seemed to hesitate slightly, and then spoke again.  “Just so as you know, Val, if you’d ever needed my help with that, I would have come.”

Val nodded, still couldn’t look up, but he felt the start of a smile creasing his face.  The kid had always had a good streak in him.  “Yeah, Johnny, I know, and I appreciate it.”

Johnny slapped him on the back.  “So, we’re good, Val, OK?”

“Yeah, Johnny, we’re good.”

The madam was looking across at them.   Val tried to avoid catching her eye.  There was something about her that scared the shit out of him.  A woman to be reckoned with.  And not one to cross.  But she seemed mighty interested in him and Madrid.  Watchful.  That was the word.  Looking out for Madrid, maybe?  She seemed an unlikely ally for him, but hell, Madrid needed all the friends he could get.  And it seemed that this woman was a friend.  It would be interesting to meet the fancy dan brother, Madrid seemed to rate him and that was praise indeed.

A couple of the girls came up to the table.  One of them, with a huge dimple in her chin, leaned across the table as she ran her fingers through her dark wavy hair, ensuring that he and Johnny got a real good look at her cleavage.  And, boy, what a cleavage.  “Was there anything else you wanted, Johnny?”  She chewed on her lower lip briefly and then slowly licked her lips, never taking her eyes off Madrid.  How did he do it?  Everyone knew whores would come on to any man, but it seemed that they enjoyed their work a whole lot more when Madrid was around.

Madrid shuffled in his seat as he watched her.  Like he needed to get himself comfortable.  No, some things didn’t ever change.  Val could guess what was coming next and figured he might as well sit back and watch the master at work.

Madrid leant back further in his seat, making a big show of thrusting his hips up as he got more comfortable.  Then stretched a hand out, a smile playing around his mouth, and traced his finger very slowly down the girl’s shoulder as she let out a low sigh and tilted her head back, like she was stretching her neck.  Except she wasn’t.  How could any man take that long to run a finger over a girl’s shoulder?  

Madrid’s finger paused, just before it reached her bosom.  And he smiled real slow.  “Now, Sadie, I’m just having a drink here with an old friend.  You trying to distract me?  You got something in mind?”

The girl wriggled, chewed on her lip, and ducked her head slightly.  “Well, Susie and me were wondering if you two boys wouldn’t like a little entertainment.”

Madrid left his finger where it was, and eyed the two girls, like he was considering a problem.  “A little entertainment?

Val rolled his eyes. 

“Just exactly what did you have in mind, Sadie?”  Madrid grinned as the girl moved in closer and whispered in his ear.  He nodded agreement to whatever she suggested.  “What about you, Val?  You interested in joining Susie there upstairs?”

Val sighed.  “Well, tempting as that offer may be, I don’t think it would look too good if the town’s new sheriff spends his first night in Green River in the bordello.  Probably wouldn’t impress the town folk too well.”

Johnny grinned.  “Can’t say I’ve ever worried about what folk will think.  I just follow my urges.”  Johnny paused and pulled Sadie a little closer.  “And I’ve got urges right now, Sadie.”

The girl gave a huge smile.  Like she’d just won a pile of money at the card table.  She pulled Johnny to his feet and turned to lead him away upstairs.  He winked at Val.  “Um, see you later, Val.  Got other things to see to right now.”  He started to follow Sadie, and then swung back and grabbed Susie too before heading up the stairs with an arm around each of the girls.

Val studied the contents of his glass.  Seemed it was going to be just him and a bottle this evening.  What the hell was it with Madrid?  He always had to show off his prowess with girls.  And it seemed like he hadn’t changed any. 

“Another drink, Mr. Crawford?”  Dammit.  He hadn’t noticed the madam walking towards him.  Been too busy wondering what Johnny had in mind for the two girls.  Embarrassed, he started to shuffle awkwardly to his feet, but she held up her hand to signal him back down.  “Oh, please, don’t stand on my account.”  Dang, she could sound icy.  He sat back down and watched as she poured him another drink.

“So, Mr Crawford, you’re going to be our new sheriff.”  She didn’t sound overly impressed.

“Well, I’ve been offered the job, Ma’am, and this seems as good a place as any to settle.”

“But you haven’t held the position of sheriff before?”

She was pretty shrewd.  How did she know that?  Lucky guess?  “No, Ma’am, but I’ve worked as a deputy, here and there.  Felt the time had come to put down some roots.”

There was a slight furrow in her brow, and the way she was looking at him, made him feel real uncomfortable, like she was thinking real hard about what he’d said.  “So, have you known Johnny for many years?”

Ah, so this was a fishing expedition.  “On and off, Ma’am.”

“When you met were you in the same line of work?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly and gave him a real steely look.  Then cast her line again.  “But you appear to know Johnny well.  He welcomed you like a very old friend.”

“It appeared that way, Miss Martin.”  He thought he’d throw her a sprat.  “It’s always good to meet people from the past.”

“So, where about did you and Johnny meet?”  The sprat had encouraged her.  He was going to enjoy returning her hook empty. 

He screwed up his face, like he was trying to remember, then shook his head.  “Well, Ma’am, you know, it’s kind of slipped my mind.  Maybe Johnny would remember but for the life of me, I can’t recall.  Maybe you’d best speak to him.”

She tilted her head to one side, pursed up her lips and gave him a real piercing look.  “Mr. Crawford, it appears that despite your somewhat dishevelled appearance.”  She paused, looked him up and down with what he felt was a very critical eye, making him wish he’d done a better job of cleaning his boots.  “You’re a lot sharper than you appear at first glance.”

He held her gaze.  “So it would seem, Ma’am.  Whereas, you, if I may say so, are exactly what your appearance would suggest.”

Her lips twitched like she was biting back a laugh.  “You know, Mr. Crawford, I think that you and I will get along splendidly.”  She turned to walk back to the bar, but then paused and turned back to him.  “In your case, Mr. Crawford, I will make an exception to my rule about this not being a bar.  You’ll be welcome for a drink anytime.”

He tipped his hat.  “Well, thank you, Ma’am.  That’s real friendly.”

He turned his attention back to his drink and considered his options.  Seemed that being sheriff of this town could have something going for it.  It was a quiet enough place and was starting to prosper.  He could enjoy the odd drink with Johnny, so long as the fellow didn’t get distracted by girls.  There was a small house with the job.  He could do a lot worse.  And he knew he could do the job.  Upholding the law and bringing people to justice.  A cause very close to his heart.  He felt easier too now that Johnny had assured him that there weren’t any wanted posters out on him.  That had set his mind at rest.  Because if a marshall had turned up with a warrant for Madrid, he would turn him in.  He’d have no choice but to do what the law required.  Even though he’d hate to hand Johnny over to see him hang.  But it seemed that fear was groundless, there were only the Rurales to worry about and they had no jurisdiction here.  So, he could accept the job with an easy mind and just concentrate on doing a good job.  He downed his drink.  Yeah, everything would be just fine.

 

Part Twenty-Four

One thing was certain, the office needed a damn good clean.  But at least it was an office.  And he’d never been too bothered about neatness.  He ran his fingers through his hair trying to smooth it down.  If anyone dropped in, he didn’t want them to think he was a slob.  He shuffled the papers around on the desk, help create the impression that he was a busy man.  Yes, the office would do just fine.  All it needed was a few wanted posters of some desperados and bank robbers and it would do very well.

He sat back in the chair at the desk to plan his first day in the job.  Then he spun round in it, just like a kid would do.  Couldn’t believe how easily he’d landed this job.  He spun the chair again, hoping that nobody could see him through the window.  God only knew what people would think if they saw the town’s new sheriff acting like a dumb kid.  Really, he ought to watch the stage come in, check out the passengers.  Always paid to know who was coming into a town, in case it spelled trouble.  That way you could usually stop it from developing.  Sort of nip it in the bud.  And having Johnny Madrid as the local attraction could attract trouble.  There’d always be some dumb kid who’d want to go up against Madrid.  Cocky enough to think they’d be faster.  Had ending up with a share of a big ranch blunted Johnny’s skills?  Somehow, he thought probably not.  He’d be prepared to bet that Johnny practised his draw just as often now as he ever did.  His gun was too much part of him to have let it go.  And the one thing he’d noticed about Johnny was that he still had that certain look about him.  Not something you could put your finger on, but a feeling that you were dealing with someone who was as tough as you could be.  Someone who wasn’t afraid of dying and wasn’t afraid of killing.  Yeah.  Johnny might be using the Lancer name, but Madrid was still there, hovering just under the surface.  God help Murdoch Lancer.

The clattering of wheels and horses’ hooves announced the arrival of the stage.  His office window gave him a good vantage point to stand and watch the passengers all clambering out.  A couple of old biddies who were given a helping hand by the driver, a middle aged overweight businessman who almost tripped getting down.  Val grinned.  He’d like to have seen that one go face down in the mud.  And the last passenger was some fancy dan.  Dressed in sort of Western style, but his hat wasn’t in quite the right place on his head, and he had fancy tan gloves.  Val shook his head.  The lengths people would go to in order to make it look like they fitted in.  Who was the fellow trying to kid?  Hell, he’d probably even got clean fingernails.

Another man was walking along the sidewalk.  Short and fat and puffing hard with the effort of walking.  Looked a real tub of lard and full of his own importance.  Shit, he was coming to the office door.  And Val figured that he probably didn’t want whatever this fellow was selling.

He quickly sat down behind the desk and shuffled the papers around again as the door opened and the man walked in, still wheezing.  Val watched him while the fellow caught his breath.  Had to be some big noise in the town, the man just had that look about him.

“I wanted to come and introduce myself.  The name’s Higgs and I’m Green River’s mayor.” 

Yeah, that figured.  “Mayor Higgs.”  Val moved to shake hands.  “Crawford.  Val Crawford.”

The man removed his hat.  “Well, it sure is a pleasure, Sheriff Crawford.  The town needs a good sheriff.”

Val raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side.  “But the town didn’t want it bad enough to pay for it.”

Higgs turned a brighter shade of red.  “It’s just we haven’t gotten round to it.  We were going to appoint one but that Murdoch Lancer took matters into his own hands.  Walked right over us.  Thinks just because he’s got a big ranch, he can do whatever he likes.”

Val shook his head.  He really didn’t need this crap today.  “Funny, but Murdoch Lancer didn’t strike me as that type of man.  Seemed perfectly reasonable.  And concerned about the well being of this little town of yours.  Told me you’d had a spot of trouble here a while back.”

“Ah.”  Higgs shuffled uncomfortably.  “Well, yes.  Bunch of saddle tramps.”

Val scratched his chin.  “And from what I hear, the people got themselves a hired gun to deal with the bunch of saddle tramps.”

Higgs turned a funny shade of purple.  “Well, that wasn’t exactly like it was...”

“Well, Mayor Higgs, why don’t you tell me just exactly like it was.”

The man puffed up his chest.  Looked like a rooster strutting around a farmyard.  Val suppressed a smile.

“We did ask a man to deal with them.  We didn’t do anything against the law.  In fact that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.  Johnny Madrid, here in our nice little town.”

“I hear he’s Murdoch Lancer’s son.”  Val watched as the man flushed, and shuffled his feet.

“Well, yes, Sheriff Crawford, supposedly.  But Madrid didn’t grow up here.  Could be anyone really.  Appears out of nowhere after all these years and says he’s Murdoch Lancer’s son.  He certainly doesn’t favour his supposed father.  No resemblance at all.”

Val sighed.  “I’m sure Mr. Lancer is astute enough to have checked out Madrid.  Now is there a point to this, Mayor, and are you ever going to come to it?”

“No need to take that sort of tone, Sheriff.  I’m doing my civic duty here.  Trying to warn you of the very undesirable element we have in this town.”

“Well, you warned me.  Now, was there anything else?”

“I want to know what you’re going to do about Madrid?  He’s got to be stopped.”

It really was turning into one of those days.  Val furrowed his brow.  Leaned back in his chair.  “Stopped from what?”

“We don’t want him around here, not the likes of him.  Nobody wants him.  People aren’t safe to walk the streets with him at large.  And it’s your job to get rid of him.”  The Mayor was bright purple now.

Val glared at him.  “Well, they really did put the donkey in charge of the hen house when they picked you as mayor.  Boy, what a bunch of hypocrites you folk must be.  You don’t mind paying Madrid to do your dirty work for you but once he’s done it, you don’t want him around.”

“I’m telling you, Sheriff, he’s not safe to be around respectable folk.”

“Well, unless Johnny Madrid has broken the law, he’s just as entitled to walk the streets of your town as you are.  Now, if I catch him smashing up the saloon, or drunk in the street, or robbing the town bank, then I will lock him up in the cells.  But unless that happens, or he breaks the law in some other way, he’s a free man.  Comprendi?”

“He’s a desperado.  Shouldn’t be allowed near decent folk.”

Val shut his eyes briefly, shook his head.  “Seems to me, Mayor, that Johnny Madrid has done this town a big favour.  Done the work you didn’t want to do yourselves.  Any rate, I’ve got a lot of work to do, so unless there’s anything else, good day to you.”  Val walked over to the door and opened it.  “I said, good day to you, Mayor Higgs.”

The man put his hat back on.  His lips were drawn in a thin line and his cheeks puffed out even more than before.  “I can see that you and I are not going to get along.  I’m very disappointed by your attitude, Crawford.”

“It’s Sheriff Crawford to you.  And if you don’t like my attitude that’s just too bad.  I’m sure you’ll find my work satisfactory when we got some real law breakers in town.  Good day.”

Val shut the door and walked wearily back to the desk.  Why were mayors usually puffed up wind bags?  Why the hell did perfectly sensible people elect them in the first place?  ’Cos no sane person wanted the job.  Still, folk got pretty much what they deserved and if they couldn’t get off their butts to look after their town, then they probably deserved Higgs.

He needed a coffee.  There had to be somewhere he could get a cup of coffee until he fixed something up in the office.  Because it sure looked like he was going to need a lot of coffee if he had to put up with the likes of Higgs.

The office door creaked open.  And it seemed the day wasn’t getting any better because it was the fancy Dan off the stage.  Standing there fiddling with his gloves.

Val glared at him.  “I’ve had a bellyful already this morning, so if you’ve come to complain, either about Johnny Madrid or anything else, I suggest Mr Fancy Dan, that you take your complaints to the Mayor.”

The man raised an eyebrow in surprise.  “I thought I would just drop in to make your acquaintance and introduce myself.”

God, the man sure had a fancy way of speaking.  “Well, that’s right friendly but I’m real busy right now, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be getting on.”

“Why did you think I’d be complaining about Johnny Madrid?”  The man was giving him a real sort of questioning look.

“Because I’ve just had the mayor in getting all aerated about Johnny Madrid.  Demanding I get rid of Johnny Madrid and claiming he represents the feelings of the town.  I guess you’re another of the town folk who don’t mind using Madrid when it suits them and then wants shot of him as soon as he’s done your dirty work for you.” 

The tall man looked like he was struggling to hold back a smile.  “I assure you, Sheriff, I have nothing against Mr. Madrid.”

Val looked at him suspiciously.  The man was way too sure of himself.  Cocky.  Like he was laughing at a secret joke that no one else knew about.  And he was so damn clean.  How did people stay that clean and tidy – especially after a long stage ride?

“So, can I assume, Sheriff, that you, as the personification of the law in these parts, have no objection to Johnny Madrid staying in this vicinity?”

He didn’t just look fancy, dang, he talked fancy, too.  “If you’re asking if I mind Johnny staying hereabouts, no, I don’t mind.  Johnny’s fine.”

The tall fellow raised an eyebrow.  But dang, he still looked like he was laughing at some private joke.  “Johnny?  Do I take it that you’re already acquainted with Mr. Madrid?”

Val rubbed his chin.  He hadn’t really intended that anyone should know that he knew Johnny.  Still, he could cover the little slip.  “I’ve run into Madrid a couple of times in the past and I have no reason to believe he’s a danger to anyone.  Seems he’s settling down, hanging up his gun, so to speak, so, providing he behaves like a law abiding citizen, that’s fine by me.”

The fellow inclined his head in acknowledgment, and fiddled with his gloves again.  Val fought the urge to grab the things out of the man’s hands.  But, hell, it was a distraction.  He found he was concentrating more on those gloves than listening.  Now the man was tucking them in his belt. 

And he wore his gun all wrong.  A little too low for the likes of him.  Like he’d copied someone without understanding the significance of a low gun.  Val dragged his attention back to the man, who was watching him with an amused expression.  “So, like I said, I’ve had a bellyful today, so if there was nothing else , Mr Fancy Dan, good day to you.”

“Fancy Dan?”  The man said it like he was weighing up the words.  “I suppose that’s slightly preferable to Tin Soldier.”

What the hell was the fellow talking about?  “Tin Soldier?  I didn’t mention tin soldiers, maybe you should get your ears looked at.”

The man smiled.  Took his gloves out of the belt and started fiddling with them again.  “No, I assure you that there’s nothing wrong with my hearing.  I was just comparing the two soubriquets and trying to decide which was the least offensive.”

Val narrowed his eyes and gave a loud sigh.  “I just told you, if you’d pay attention, I didn’t call you a tin soldier.  Don’t look much like a soldier.”  He eyed the man’s short cropped jacket with a dismissive eye.  “Not like a soldier at all.”

“No, it’s what my brother called me.”  He paused, almost, it seemed, for effect.  “When he first met me.”

Val had a strange sinking sensation in his stomach.  A fancy Dan...   Johnny’s words echoed in his ears.  “He looks a real dandy.  From out east.  Seems his ma died when he was born and he was raised by her folk in Boston.  Went to some fancy school out east.  Served in the cavalry in the war.”  The cavalry... a tin soldier...  And Johnny’s simple statement that his brother was OK – a statement which spoke volumes.

“Oh dang!”  Val glared at him.  “You’re as devious as that damn brother of yours, you know that?”

The fellow gave a broad smile.  “I’ll take that as a compliment!  Although, I confess that when it comes to deviousness, I’m not a patch on my brother.”

Val held his hand out.  “Val Crawford, Mr Lancer.”

The fancy Dan smiled.  “Call me Scott.  And do I take it that you’ve had something of a trying morning?  A visit from the mayor?  Did he really come here to complain about Johnny?”

Val sat down in his chair with a heartfelt sigh.  “Silly old fool.  Wanted to warn me of the desperado who lives here.  Stop him coming into town.  I sent him away with a flea in his ear.”

“How well do you know Johnny?”

The question caught him by surprise.  Seemed Scott Lancer was no fool.  But he’d promised Johnny he’d play down the connection and he was a man of his word.  “It’s like I said, I’ve run into Johnny a couple of times over the years.  I know he’s no danger to anyone.  Seems he’s trying to settle down and that’s good enough for me.  He ain’t breaking any laws.  My job is to uphold law and order and Johnny ain’t treading on my toes, so, it’s not a problem.”

“Someone tried to bushwhack him the other week.  People really resent his presence.”

Val chewed on his lip.  Couldn’t say he was surprised.  Sure didn’t make it easier on Johnny though.  He thought back to the pleading expression he’d noticed the previous evening.  The look in Johnny’s eyes when he’d said he was trying to settle.   The gunfighter was going to have a tough time ahead trying to win acceptance in an area like this.  He tapped his fingers on the desk as he thought.  “Johnny have any idea who this bushwhacker was?”

Scott nodded.  “A local rancher.  Johnny thinks he put the fear of God in the man and he won’t try anything else.  But...”

“Yeah, I got you.  Still, if Johnny’s scared him off, that’s a good thing.  And let’s face it, folk often talk tough but when push comes to shove they don’t want to get their hands dirty.  I figure if Johnny keeps himself out of trouble and nobody comes looking for him, things should settle.  The main thing is he ain’t wanted anywhere, if someone turned up with a wanted poster on him, things would be different.  But as they are, everything should settle down and work out just fine.”

 

 

Part Twenty-Five

The stone skimmed across the water.  A five bouncer.  Good with stones, good with guns and good with women.  But pretty much shit at everything else.  He sank down against a tree.  Last time he’d sat here he’d been with Wes.  It seemed a long time ago now.  A lifetime ago.  Wes’s life.  What a waste.  Funny how he’d envied Wes his ability to just take things as they come.  Wes had never spent his time worrying about much at all.  Hell, who was he trying to kid?  Wes never thought about anything much which was probably why he’d never worried about much.  He’d had no imagination.  Not like Madrid.  Madrid worried over everything.  Constantly planning, scheming and always at least two jumps ahead of everyone else. 

And just at the moment it seemed Madrid was being a right bastard to everyone.  He’d threatened Val.  Val of all people.  He knew he could trust Val, so why had he threatened him?  And even worse, he’d threatened Sam.  Sam, who’d never done anyone any harm.  Spent his life trying to help people.  But Madrid had threatened him.  And he didn’t know why he did it.  Wasn’t like he was scared of anything.  Johnny Madrid wasn’t scared of nothing.  Was he?  Except maybe hanging.  Not dying.  He’d had no fear when he faced the firing squad.  Just relief, if he was honest.  He’d been so fucking tired of it all.  But he didn’t want to hang.  When Mama died, it was the thought of hanging which had scared him most of all.  People gathered round watching that short drop and then poking the body with sticks and jeering.  He’d been terrified then they’d hang him and it seemed it was still the one thing that scared him.

But he’d hang for Utah.  And here he was, fretting over whether he’d covered his tracks well enough.  Because he knew he’d been seen.  And now, the more people who knew Madrid was alive and close by, the bigger the chance of someone coming looking for him.  And if they did, Val would hand him over.  Because Val would obey the law.  Shit.  But maybe nobody would come looking.  It was quite a while ago now.  And he sure as hell wasn’t running.  He’d never run from nothing and he wasn’t planning on starting now.  But they’d all despise him if they knew about it.  All of them.  The old man, Boston, Val, Sam, Delice.  And he could never tell them why.  Never drop your guard.  And even if they knew it all, they’d probably despise him even more.  All he could do was cover his tracks. 

Because he didn’t want to leave here.  He loved it.  He’d loved it in the summer when the mountains seemed to shimmer in the heat and now, if anything, it was even more beautiful in the fall.  Nature was casting her golden cloak across the land as the days shortened.  The lengthening shadows, falling leaves and the smell of wood smoke hanging in the air heralded the approach of winter.  And although he hated the cold, he found he was looking forward to seeing the ranch in the winter.  Perhaps he only hated the cold because he’d never had a refuge from it until now.  Somewhere warm and safe.  Maybe the land would be covered in a snowy mantle, like the lace that Mexican women covered their hair with in church.  He could imagine long evenings slumped in front of a roaring fire.  Beating Boston at chess.  He grinned.  He loved beating Boston at chess.  And just about everything else.  Boston might have read an awful lot of books but when it came to things that mattered, he knew he could more than hold his own against the older man.  Had to because he always had to win.  Madrid always had to come out the winner. 

He picked up another stone and sent it skimming across the water, watching the ripples spreading out from each bounce.  Life was like that.  You did something and the ripples spread out, affecting lots of other things.  Reminded him of Scott’s words to him when he’d left with Wes.  Telling him that when Madrid died he wouldn’t even leave a small ripple.  Would he now?  If he died would anyone care?  Funny, but he thought maybe they would now.  Even the old man.  But they wouldn’t if they knew about Utah.

Strange how he’d managed to push it to the back of his mind for so long.  But now, maybe because of Val’s words, it was really playing on his mind.  It was back, filling his dreams. His nightmares and every waking thought.  Maybe it was an omen.  Maybe someone was coming and it was his sixth sense that told him trouble was coming.  But more likely it was just him fretting.  Like a dog with a fucking bone.  Best check he’d covered his tracks.  Just like he’d covered them when Mama died.

He sat and replayed the whole thing in his head.  Every single action in Utah.  Every move he’d made.  And then he hauled himself to his feet and went and checked his saddle bags.  Checked that he’d still got the slip of paper that could save his life.  There was maybe one other thing he should do to cover himself.  Couldn’t be too careful.

And he should deal with the other thing plaguing him.  He should put things right with Sam.  Hated himself for leaving things hanging with the man.  Hanging.  Yeah.  Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone.  He knew Sam had thought he’d been helping by pushing Johnny.  But shit, he sure wasn’t talking about the past to nobody and Sam should have taken the hint and backed off.  Still, the man had been a good friend since Johnny had come back.  And he knew Sam cared about him.  He’d seen it in his eyes.  Concern.  And even seeing that, he’d still threatened him.  Because he didn’t want anyone trying to get too close.  Because he’d end up letting them down.  Like he always had with everyone.  And he’d let his mother down most of all.

He picked up another stone.  Smooth and flat.  It should skim real good.  Maybe a six bouncer.  With a flick of the wrist he sent it skimming across the water, counting each bounce.  He grinned.  Six.  It was all in the wrist action. 

He dragged his mind back to the job in hand.  Started looking for a suitable piece of wood.  He grinned again.  Yeah.  Back to covering his tracks.  He wasn’t going to rest easy till he knew he’d done all he could. 

Johnny bent and slipped the knife from his boot and went and sat back against the tree.  And set about covering tracks.

Fuck.  It hurt.  A wave of nausea passed over him as he watched the blood spreading over his arm.  An awful lot of blood for one simple cut.  He shut his eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass.  And hoped he wouldn’t puke.  Felt like everything was swimming round him so he bent further forward, so his head rested between his knees.  Stay like that until the dizziness passed.  He knew the drill.  He’d had enough injuries over the years to know what to do. 

The sound of wheels and hooves echoed along the road above the lake.  He tried to struggle to his feet, didn’t want to be seen looking weak.  Hopefully, whoever it was would just drive on by and not even notice his presence.

“Hello, down there.  Are you injured?”  A woman’s voice.

Shit.  Not only had the person not driven past, she had obviously seen him stumble.  And the voice sounded horribly familiar.  Of all the people...

“Are you alright...”  Her voice trailed off as she clambered down to check on him.  “Oh.  It’s you.”

Holding the bandana tightly to the wound, he nodded, as politely as he could, seeing as how he couldn’t tip his hat with his hands full.  “Mrs. Conway.”

Her gaze was fixed on his arm, a faint look of horror on her face.  He glanced down at the wound.  Shit, there really was a lot of blood.   “It’s not as bad as it looks.”  He didn’t sound very convincing.  And judging by the look on her face, she wasn’t buying his line.

She swallowed and then walked forward briskly, like she wanted to take charge.  “What happened?  Let me have a closer look.  It looks a very bad cut.  It’s very deep.”

He shrugged.  “I was whittling some wood.  I just lost my concentration, I guess.  The knife slipped.”

She gave him a look which said she didn’t believe him.  “Whittling?  Johnny Madrid whittling?”

Why the hell shouldn’t he have been whittling?  He hadn’t been, but that was neither here nor there.  “Yeah, whittling.  I was thinking of maybe making Murdoch a pipe rack.”  That should impress the old cow, made him sound real virtuous.  “I don’t spend all my time shooting people.”  It was childish, he knew, but he couldn’t resist the dig at her.

“Oh, yes, I seem to recall that you told me you had some redeeming features.”  She didn’t sound like she believed that either.  Well, Mama had always said she was a fucking bitch.

She took a large handkerchief from her bag.  “Hold still while I tie a tourniquet.”

“A what?”  He winced as she set about tying the cloth tightly above the wound.

She looked at him, like he was an irritating kid or something.  “A tourniquet.”  She said it real slow like he was dumb or something.  “To stop the bleeding.  And then we’ll get you to Green River, to see Sam.”

He glared.  “I can get myself to Green River.  I ain’t shot full of holes.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “No, I suppose a cut arm must seem quite a novelty.  Certainly different from the injuries you must have suffered in your previous occupation.”

He bit back a sharp retort.  Damn woman.  Like he’d accept any help from her.  But he’d be polite.  Didn’t want to piss off Murdoch and hell, the woman was a friend of his or had been until the old man realised what a bigot she was.

“Ma’am, like I said, I’m fine to ride.”  The words almost choked him.  “But thanks for the tourniquet.  Much appreciated.”  Funny, but it did seem to have helped stem the bleeding. 

“You look as white as a sheet and are certainly not fit to ride.  We’ll tie the horse behind my buggy and I’ll drive you to town.”  Dios.  She was bossy. 

“There’s no need, Ma’am, like I said, I’m fine.”  He spoke the words through clenched teeth, struggling to remain polite.  How many times did he have to tell the damn woman?  Still, it did no harm that she’d seen him now.  She’d be a very reliable witness, if he ever needed one.  So maybe, he should just accept the ride with good grace.  Went against the grain though.  Being pleasant to the woman who had made his mother’s life so unbearable.  Poor Mama, no wonder she’d hated Aggie Conway.  Not only didn’t she like Mexicans, she was bossy, interfering, rude and smug.

Johnny grinned to himself.  Actually it would be a pleasure to make use of Mrs. Conway.  He’d felt guilty about the prospect of using Sam for his own ends, but hell, a doctor sure made a reliable witness if he ever needed it, but this way, he’d have two.  And a man couldn’t be too careful when it came to covering tracks.

He allowed the smile to spread.  “Actually, Mrs. Conway, I think I will take the ride, seeing as how you’ve offered.  Sam would be mad at me for refusing when I’ve got a bad cut, so, yeah, thanks.  Right friendly of you, Ma’am.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, like she didn’t trust his words, but gave him a curt nod and went to untie Barranca.  “I’ll take my horse, Ma’am...”

She sighed.  “You were always wilful.  Even as a two year old.  For heaven’s sake, just go and get in the buggy, I’m quite capable of leading your horse up to the road, whereas you look like hell.”

He opened his mouth to protest but to his surprise Barranca followed her meekly up the slope.  Normally the horse wouldn’t oblige anyone other than his master.  Damn woman. 

He scrambled up into the buggy, wincing as he did so.  Couldn’t believe he was allowing himself to be driven into town by a woman.  Still, it served his ends.

Luckily she didn’t seem inclined to talk.  They drove over half the distance in silence.  She could handle the buggy well, though.  He had the uneasy feeling that she could probably handle most things well and was nobody’s fool.  She certainly looked like she was deep in thought.  Well, that suited him just fine.  Much easier without having to make small talk.

“What did your mother tell you about me?”

The sudden question rocked him.  Shit.  How could he answer that one?  “Oh, I don’t really recall, Ma’am.  It was a long time ago.”

“You told me that I was exactly how she’d described me to you.”

Shit.  Why did the damn woman have to remember that?  “Oh, I just meant how you look...”

It sounded feeble and he could tell she didn’t believe him.  “Your mother and I did not get along.  I’m sure she told you that.”  She gave him a piercing look and he found himself giving a reluctant nod.

“For what it’s worth, I did try and welcome your mother to the neighbourhood when she arrived.  She was very young.”  Mrs. Conway faltered.  “And very beautiful.”  She cracked the whip to make the horse trot on faster.  She had flushed a dull red.  “This isn’t an easy thing to admit, but all the men were very taken with her.”  She paused and bit her lip.  “Including my husband.”  She turned and looked at him.  He could have sworn there were tears in her eyes.  “I was very jealous.  And, for what it’s worth, so were all the other women in the area.  We couldn’t compete.  So, we were not as kind as we should have been.  I’m sorry.”

She urged the horse on faster, avoiding his eyes now.  He felt an unexpected wave of sympathy for her.  Yeah, Mama had sure known how to turn heads.  And wouldn’t have hesitated to flirt with every man in the neighbourhood.  And she sure wouldn’t have cared if the men were married.  It was just the way she was.  But maybe if they’d been nicer Mama wouldn’t have left.  And he could have grown up at Lancer.  He sighed.  Life really was just a crock of shit.  And everything hung on what hand you were dealt.

He knew he should say something.  But he was so fucking useless with words.  He shrugged.  “I guess we’re all sorry ’bout things we’ve done.  We just have to move on and live with it.  Can’t undo things.”

“And you are trying to move on?”  She was looking at him hard.  “Put the past behind you?”

He nodded.  “Yeah, Ma’am, I am.”  And right now, he was trying to put his biggest sin behind him and she was playing a part in it.  If only she knew.  Trouble was, now, using her seemed cheap.  Before it had felt like a victory.  But not any longer.

They drove into town in silence and she drew the buggy to a halt outside Sam’s house.

His arm was throbbing as he jumped down, but he managed to tip his hat to her.  “Thanks for the lift, Ma’am.”

He watched in silence as she unhitched Barranca and tied him to the rail outside Sam’s office.  As she went to climb back into her buggy she paused.  “Oh, by the way, tell Murdoch I took his advice and got some Mexican vaqueros.  Tell him he was right.  They’ve been a huge success.”

Johnny smiled.  “I’ll tell him.  And thanks for the lift.”  He waved his good hand as he watched her drive away up the main street.

He tried to drag his mind back to what he had to do next and his stomach clenched at what lay ahead.  How to make things right with Sam.  Get things back like they had been – if Sam was willing to forgive him.  He should never have spoken to Sam the way he had, even though Sam had been pushing way too hard. He stared at the big door and then reluctantly, and oh so slowly made his way up the steps to it.  He was just lifting his good arm to knock, when the door swung open and he came face to face with the doctor.

 

Part Twenty-Six

Johnny swallowed hard as he tried to meet Sam’s eyes – eyes that were wide with surprise.  And something else, suspicion?  Supposed he couldn’t blame Sam for that, what with him showing up on the doctor’s doorstep like that.  Must have been the last person he expected. He felt the heat rush to his face as he opened his mouth to try and say something.  Anything.  But he couldn’t think of a damn thing, especially  once he saw Sam’s eyes focus  on his arm.

“You’re hurt.  What the hell happened?”  Sam stood back to let him past into the house.
Johnny shrugged.  “Cut myself, whittling.”

“Whittling?”  The way Sam said it sounded like he didn’t believe it.  Hell, what was it with people?  Why didn’t they think he would whittle?

“Yeah.  Whittling.”  It came out snappier than he’d meant it to, but shit, what was so odd about him whittling?  Sam just raised an eyebrow.  A disbelieving eyebrow.  “I was thinking of making Murdoch a pipe rack...”   Stop trying, Madrid, nobody’s gonna believe it.

Sam looked at him with narrowed eyes.  “A pipe rack?  It’s a hell of a bad cut for the sake of a pipe rack.  Come on through and let’s get it cleaned up.  It’s going to need quite a few stitches.”

Johnny followed Sam through to the large room where the man treated his patients, and perched on the edge of the high leather couch as Sam gathered together the things he’d need.  He was already feeling bad about using Sam.  Dios, Madrid really was a bastard.  Using Sam, using Aggie Conway...  How much lower could he sink?  Where was rock bottom? 

“Let me have a look at it.  I need to ensure it really is clean before we stitch it up.”

Why did doctors always say “we” like the patient was gonna help?  It was like “and how are we feeling today?”  Nothing was more fucking irritating than that.  Always made him want to say that he was fine but how was the doctor feeling.  He bit his lip.  Didn’t want to start things off by irritating the hell out of Sam, he’d do that real well in his own good time.

Sam was dabbing at the cut with something.  Shit, it made it sting, like a fucking snake bite.  Maybe the cure was worse than the cut...

“So, how have you been, Johnny?  Haven’t seen you around.”  Sam’s voice was kind of level, no expression.  The sort of thing he’d say to any patient... not one who’d threatened him?

Johnny sighed.  Tried to look at Sam, but shit, he felt bad.  Still didn’t know what to say.  Scott would know what to say.  He always knew what to say.  Guess that’s the sort of thing they taught a fellow at fancy schools.  “Sam... ouch... careful!  That fucking hurt.”  He tried to wrench his arm free but Sam was holding on real good.  Getting his own back, maybe.

“Shit, Sam.  I’m sorry.  I was a real idiot the other day.”

“Oh?  When was that, Johnny?”  The man sounded real casual, like he wasn’t even interested.

Seemed Sam wasn’t going to make this easy.  Johnny shook his head, had to smile.  He didn’t deserve easy, after all.  “I’m sorry, Sam, OK.  Really.”  He hesitated, hated letting his guard drop.  “I felt bad about how I left things.  But I ain’t talking about the past to nobody.  It’s best left alone.  I know you don’t think that I’m right but that’s how it is, OK?”

Sam didn’t say anything.  Just carried on swabbing at the wound.  Looked at it real close.  Too damn close.  What had he seen?  “It’s odd, this wound, it’s almost as if there was another old scar exactly underneath it, have you had a cut there in the past?”

Johnny swallowed hard, tried to ignore the tight sensation in his gut.  Just sound casual.  “No. Don’t think so, Sam.  Just my arm.  It was a real dumb thing to do.  Like I said, I was...”

“Whittling.”  Sam’s tone still sounded like he didn’t believe it.  “If this is an example of your whittling, I suggest you leave well enough alone.  Buy Murdoch a pipe rack.”

He shut his eyes briefly, feeling relief flood through his body that Sam was so easily distracted.  “Yeah, good advice Sam.  Anyway, are we good now, Sam?”

Sam shot him a sharp glance before looking back down to where he was stitching.  “We always were, Johnny.  I can’t force you to talk to Murdoch.  It’s not my business, I accept that.  You thought I was poking my nose in where it wasn’t wanted.  I was, but you are a patient and I happen to think it’s something you should talk about.  But if you don’t want to take my advice, that’s up to you.  I’m not holding a gun to your head.”

He felt another twinge of guilt.  “I am sorry, Sam.”  Johnny found his voice was little more than a whisper.  Dios, he really was a total shit.  Even now, he was using Sam, even as he tried to put things right.  “I didn’t mean to sound so...”  Hell, he couldn’t even think of a way to describe his behaviour.

“Petulant?  Childish?  Bad tempered?”  Sam sounded amused.  In fact, Johnny would have sworn the man’s shoulders were shaking.

“Are you laughing at me, Sam?  ’Cos if you are, could you stop stitching until you’ve finished having a laugh at my expense?”

Sam leaned back, laughing real good now.  “It might be for the best otherwise my stitches will be all over the place.”  Sam furrowed his brow suddenly.  Looked real thoughtful.  “Why did you think I was angry with you that day?  Has it really been bugging you that much?  You actually felt you had to apologise?”  Sam was looking at him like he was loco or something.  “I wasn’t angry, just a touch disappointed, that’s all.  I hate to disillusion you, Johnny, but oddly enough I am not in the least bit scared of you and I’m afraid you totally failed in your attempt to intimidate me.  I imagine that was what you were trying to do that day.”

Johnny stared at Sam, opened his mouth to say something, but hell, what could he say?   He furrowed his brow slightly, then laughed.  “Failed, huh?  Must be losing my touch, then.  But for what it’s worth, I felt real bad about it.”

Sam raised an eyebrow in a kind of questioning way.  “You know, you’re not nearly as bad as you believe yourself to be.  You really need to start letting up on yourself.  You’re your own worst enemy.  And your own biggest critic.”

Shit.  Not as bad as he believed himself to be.  Sam wouldn’t think that if he knew about Utah.  But it still felt good to have someone believe in him.  Dios.  He hoped that nobody from Utah ever showed up.  He didn’t want to let everyone down.  Maybe he really could just put things behind him.  Get on with his life.  To finally have somewhere to belong.  But he didn’t want to let himself believe that.  It would hurt all the more if it all blew up in his face.  Just take each day as it comes.  And cover tracks.

Sam put the final stitch in with a grunt of triumph.  “There, all done.  And so long as you’re careful with it, read my lips, careful with it.”  He said the words real slow and loud, like he was trying to make some kind of a point. Or talking to an idiot.  “It should heal up in no time.”  He tilted his head to one side and shot Johnny a kind of fierce look, but kind of joking too.  “Remember, as long as you’re sensible, it will heal quickly.”  He gave a brief shake of his head.  “Who am I trying to kid?  Sensible?  You?  That’ll be the day.”

Johnny grinned.  “I’ll be good, Sam, I promise.  Leastways this won’t interfere with other activities.  I can ride one handed so I’ll be able to go and pay Delice and her girls a visit.”
Sam smiled and shook his head.  “Do you ever think of anything other than sex?”
Johnny scratched his head, tried to look like that was a real tricky question.  “Well, now you come to mention it, no.”  He grinned.  “I got real healthy appetites you know.”

Sam interrupted.  “I know, you keep telling me.  Frequently.  I’m starting to feel sorry for Delice’s girls.”

“Hell, why?  I’m their favourite customer.”

Sam gave a snort of disbelief as he finished clearing up his equipment.  “I see that modesty is not your strongest suit.  Now, promise me you won’t do any more whittling.  You really shouldn’t be allowed out without supervision.  I don’t know why people worry about you being dangerous.  Seems to me you do yourself more damage than you ever do to anyone else!”

Johnny started laughing.  It felt so good to know that things were back to normal with Sam.  “So, how much do I owe you, Sam?”

The doctor shook his head.  “Nothing.  Murdoch’s opened an account with me since you came home.  Seemed to think it would be simpler – I can’t imagine why.”

“Kind of forward thinking of the old man, really.” 

The sound of galloping hooves in the street drew both of them to the window.  Three men on sweating horses were reining in outside Val’s new office.  Sam peered through the glass trying to see who the men were.  “Well, they seem to be in an awful lather about something.  Rushing to see our new sheriff.”  He half turned toward Johnny.  “You did know that the new sheriff has started?”  Then Sam laughed.  “Old age.  Of course you knew, Murdoch appointed him.  Have you met the man yet?”

“Yeah, I met him.  Seems OK.”  Johnny avoided Sam’s eyes.  Kept looking out of the window.  Didn’t want to get into any talk about how he already knew Val.  Sam was way too good at reading him.

Sam nodded.  “I met him very briefly outside the gunsmith’s.  Seemed a very pleasant fellow.  I know Murdoch had high hopes of him after receiving his letter.”  Sam struck his forehead like he’d forgotten something.  “But you know that, too.  Sorry.  But I’m so pleased that the town has finally got a sheriff.”  Sam rubbed his chin, like he was thinking about something.  “But I hope nothing’s wrong.  Those three men seemed in an awful hurry to see him.  They certainly don’t look like they’re popping in to just pass the time of day.”

Johnny shrugged.  He really didn’t care.  If folks round here had trouble, they had nobody to blame but themselves.  Damn gringos.  Thought they were so much better than other people.  Just ’cos their skin was white.  Or had money.  Or shoes...  They’d use him and then treat him like shit because he was a half breed.  The resentment was starting to well up in him, choking him with its arid, bitter taste, just like it always had.  He turned away.  “I’d best be getting back to the ranch.  Thanks, Sam.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, looking surprised.  “Aren’t you going to go and find out what’s got those three,” he jerked his head towards the window, “so riled up?  I thought you’d be interested.”

“Nope.  Ain’t interested and I don’t care.  They got trouble, that’s their problem.  I’ve done enough for this town and I ain’t lifting a finger in the future.”

“My, that does sound bitter.  Not like you.”

Johnny gave a slight shake of his head.  “Not like me?  You don’t know what I’m like, Sam, and I sure as hell don’t feel inclined to do any more for this town.  You got any idea how many of these folk would lift a finger to help you, Sam, if you were in trouble?  Not one.”

“You sound very cynical.”

“Yeah, well, I learned my lessons the hard way and I know what gringos are like.”

Sam gave him a piercing look and tilted his head to one side, like he was considering some problem.  “Gringos?  That include me?”

Johnny gave an exasperated sigh.  Dios.  Why did people have to take things personally?  “No, Sam, it doesn’t include you.  But I’ve had enough trouble from this town, so, if you don’t mind, I’m heading home.”

“Take it easy with that arm, Johnny.”

Johnny raised his thumb in acknowledgement and headed out to Barranca.  He paused momentarily to listen to the sound of raised voices coming from Val’s office.  He grinned.  Yeah, seemed that the town had got itself some more trouble. Served ’em all damn well right.  Still, shame that poor old Val hadn’t even had a chance to settle in before trouble came calling.  Poor old Val.  But what the hell, it was what he was getting paid for.  He grinned again and spurred Barranca out of the town and towards home.  The town’s problems were no concern of his.  He was much more concerned about explaining away the cut on his arm, seeing as how nobody believed the whittling story.

As he rode under the Lancer ranch he hadn’t come up with anything better.  And seeing as how that was the line he’d fed Mrs. Conway and Sam, he’d have to run with it.  Really was losing his touch.  Getting soft.  He’d failed to scare the shit out of Sam it seemed and nobody believed his whittling story.  Losing his edge.  It was probably Boston’s fault.  All those eastern good manners.  He’d have to start getting tougher again.  Never could tell when it might be needed. 

He tied Barranca to the rail outside the main door of the hacienda.  He’d stable him later.  It would look better if he went and explained about his arm first.  It seemed that was the kind of thing they’d expect him to do.  Family.  He shook his head slightly.  Couldn’t figure it at all. He was about to push open the door when it swung open and he almost collided with Scott. 

“Johnny!  I was just about to coming looking for you.  We’re getting together a posse.”

It seemed it was his lucky day.  If posses were uppermost in Scott’s mind, he wouldn’t be asking too many questions about whittling. 

“A posse?  What the hell d’you need a posse for?”

 

Part Twenty-Seven

“You mean you haven’t heard?”  Scott was staring at him like Johnny must have been lost in the desert for years or got cloth ears or something.

Johnny eyed him thoughtfully.  Scott sure looked all riled up over something.  He was fiddling with his damn gloves and he had his hat on the back of his head.  Johnny tried to squash the smile that threatened to break out.  Always made him smile the way Boston put his hat on like that.  Kinda made him look like an Arkansas farm boy.  He resisted the urge to set the hat straight, square on his head – the way a man like Scott should wear his hat.  Trouble was, he still looked like a man who hadn’t quite settled to the ways of the west.  He would in time.  Johnny could picture Scott when he was older, wearing his hat just right with a plump wife and a whole parcel of kids.  But would Johnny Madrid live long enough to see that?

He tried to push past Scott to go inside.  “Well, no, Boston, I ain’t heard nothing, so maybe you’d best start explaining.”

“Well, it’s like....”  Scott paused, his brow suddenly furrowed with concern and he blanched as he stared down at Johnny’s bandaged arm.  “What’s happened to you?  Did someone try to bushwhack you again?  God.  Come in and sit down.”

Johnny grinned.  “Yeah, well, that’s what I was trying to do except your great bulk is stopping me getting inside the door.  Like to let me in, Boston?”

Scott moved rapidly to one side, and half pulled Johnny through the door.  Luckily by his good arm.  “So, what on earth happened?  Did someone shoot you?  A bushwhacker?  Oh hell, it wasn’t another gunfight was it?”

Johnny felt a pang of disappointment.  Would he ever be able to leave the gunfighting behind?  So that if he was hurt his family wouldn’t just assume it must have been a gunfight or someone hunting him down because of the past?  He glared at Scott.  “No it wasn’t another fucking gunfight.”  He held up his hand, hoping to quell Scott’s flood of questions.  “I cut myself whittling.”

Scott opened his mouth to say something.  Then closed it again.  Then opened it again.  Looked like a fish.  “Whittling?”  He didn’t sound like he believed it either.  “Whittling?  You whittle?”

What was it with everyone?  Did they really think he spent every spare second fiddling with his gun and practising his draw?  Sure, he practised his draw but even he had to have a break sometimes.  Hell, he could play a guitar too, but they probably wouldn’t believe that either.  Maybe he should have just said...  Hell, there wasn’t any sort of excuse that could explain the cut other than whittling.  Run with it, Madrid, you ain’t got no choice.

“Yeah, Boston, whittling.  You got a problem with that?”

Scott raised an eyebrow and gave him a real odd kind of look.  “So, you were whittling?  What happened?”

Johnny sighed.  “Well, like I just said, I cut myself.  Sam stitched it up, it’s fine.  But, that don’t explain why you’re all fired up and hell bent on forming a posse.”

Scott stared at him, still looking kind of confused.  “It must have been a hell of a cut if it needed stitches.  Are you sure it’s alright?”

“Just tell me about the posse.  My arm’s fine.  Now what the hell has been going on here?” 

“It’s the Cattlemen’s Association, you see.”

Johnny stared at him, wondering if Scott would ever get to the point.  The man sure did know how to drag things out.  “You mean you’re rounding up a posse to go after the Cattlemen’s Association?  You must be real pissed off with them, Boston.”  He couldn’t help grinning at the prospect of a posse hunting down all those pompous ranchers.  The thought of it improved his mood instantly.

Scott gave a real irritated kind of a sigh.  Stuck his gloves in his belt then pulled ’em out again.  “Don’t be obtuse, Johnny.”

Obtuse?  What the hell did that mean?  Dios.  If only Scott would just talk normal.

“The man they entrusted with the task of overseeing the movement of funds has absconded with all their money.”

“What the hell does that mean, Boston?  Shit, just talk normal why don’t you?”

Scott narrowed his eyes slightly and gave another real big sigh.  “The man they put in charge of moving the money has disappeared with the whole lot.  Stolen it and vamoosed. Skedaddled.  Or any other word you care to use.”

Oh boy.  This was too good to be true.  He could feel the broad smile spreading, just couldn’t stop it.  And the laughter was bubbling up now. 

Scott fixed him with one of those looks, like he didn’t think it was something to laugh about.  “You find this funny, Johnny?  Would it be funny if it was our money?”

Johnny shook his head in exasperation.  “Oh, shit, Boston.  This wouldn’t have happened if they’d carried on doing it the way it was always done.  It’s only ’cos they didn’t trust me that they started making their own arrangements.  Johnny Madrid ain’t to be trusted but if you’re a gringo rancher, well, that’s just fine.  Wouldn’t catch no gringo making off with their money, just Mexicans or half breeds – that’s the way they think.  Well, I tell you, Boston, it serves the whole bunch of gringo ranchers right.”

Scott didn’t say nothing.  Just stood there, giving him a real strange look.  Raised an eyebrow.  “Gringo ranchers?  That include me, brother?”

Johnny perched on the edge of the old man’s desk.  Stared down at his boots and could feel the heat flushing his face.  He shot Scott a quick glance before staring at the floor again.  He shrugged.  “You know what I mean.”

“I know it sounds insulting the way you said it.  So, does it include me?”  Scott sounded real pissed off. 

Johnny walked over to the big window, anything rather than look at Scott right then.  “Well, you are a gringo.”  Shit.  Somehow he didn’t think he’d said the wisest thing.  “What I mean is...”

“That I’m just a fancy Dan gringo rancher.”  Scott sure didn’t sound happy about it.

Johnny ran his fingers through his hair.  How could he put this right?  Shit, trust him to put his foot in it.  “No.  That ain’t what I mean.”

Scott folded his arms and leaned against the fireplace.  “Well, pray, do tell me, just what did you mean?  Because from where I’m standing it sounds like you lump me in with all the other white ranchers who you feel have done you down in the past.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Scott, of course I don’t.  I just meant...”  Dios!  He wished he was better with words.  He was fucking useless at explaining things.  “I just meant...”  He shook his head in exasperation.  “Well, it’s easy for you to stand there.  You don’t know what it’s like having folk look down on you because of the colour of your skin.  All my life I’ve had that, Scott.  All my life.  I ain’t good enough in Mexico and I ain’t good enough here ’cos either my eyes don’t suit or my skin don’t.  And I tell you, I get sick of it.  Just like I get sick of being used.  One day I ain’t fit to walk the streets of Green River, the next day they want me to sort out their trouble ’cos they don’t want to risk their precious white skins, not even to protect their own families.  But hell, they think they can toss me some money and then treat me like dirt.  And you know something else, they treat me different to a white gunfighter too.  I’ve seen enough gunfighters hired and fired to know they treat me different.”

Johnny paused, took a deep breath.  “So, yeah, I’m glad they’ve lost their money.  Serves ’em right.  Maybe next time they won’t be so quick to condemn someone because of the colour of his skin.”

Scott shook his head, still giving him a real piercing look.  “But don’t you see, that’s what you’re doing?”

It stopped him in his tracks.  Couldn’t think of a damn thing to say to that.  Shit.  Was that what he was doing?  No.  He wasn’t like that.  Was he?  He couldn’t be like that.  He hated people who thought like that.  No, it was just that... just what?  He tried to meet Scott’s eyes.  “I didn’t mean it to sound the way it did, Scott.  But fact is, there was only one of those ranchers prepared to give me a chance.  The rest of them didn’t want to know me.”  He shrugged.  “So I guess I’m just calling it as I see it.  And no, I don’t see you as a gringo rancher.  And I know there’s white folk who don’t care what colour someone is.”  He paused.  “I just don’t seem to have met many of them.”

Scott looked at him, real serious.  “Well, if you will insist on keeping the type of company that you’ve been keeping, what do you expect?” 

Shit.  He felt like throwing a punch at Scott’s face, but then figured maybe it was just as well he didn’t as a smile spread across Scott’s face.  “Sorry, couldn’t resist that one, just too good an opportunity to miss.”

Johnny grinned. He could give as good as he got.  “Gringo.”

“But not a gringo rancher who deserves to lose all his money?”

Johnny paused briefly, timing, after all, was everything.  “Well,” he drawled, “fact is Scott you are a gringo and you do own a third of a ranch.  And if only you’d learn where your hat should sit you might even look like a rancher, but for now, I reckon you look more like a gringo farm boy.”  He ducked to avoid the mock punch that Scott aimed in his direction.  And felt a surge of relief that Scott wasn’t still pissed with him.  

“So, who made off with the money?”

Scott sighed, slapped his leg with his gloves.  “Seth Turner.  Have you met him?  Short, weasly sort of face.”  He paused as though trying to recall the man.  “He always looked hungry.”

Johnny gave a short laugh.  “No, ain’t many of ’em wanted to meet me.  So no, I don’t recall meeting him.”  He smiled coolly.  “Wish I had though.  Shit.  Some sort of hombre, making off with their money like that.  Hell, makes me look like an angel.”  He paused.  “And that takes some doing!  So, how much they lose?”

Scott shrugged and walked over to the big window behind the old man’s desk.  “About seven thousand dollars, I believe.  The small ranchers certainly can’t afford to lose money like that.”

Johnny gave a low whistle.  That was a hell of a lot of money.  Served ’em all damn well right, but he didn’t say it aloud.  Didn’t think Scott would agree with him.  Still, he didn’t fancy the man’s chances if some of those ranchers found him before the posse.  He had a gut feeling that it wouldn’t take much to turn them into a lynch mob.  “So, where’s Murdoch?  Has he heard about it yet?”

Scott nodded.  “He’s just gathering some men down in the bunkhouse and then we’ll join the posse.  I think some of the ranchers went into town to alert our new sheriff.”

Johnny smiled.  “Yeah, I saw them tearing into his office and raising a ruckus.”

Scott tilted his head to one side, kind of thoughtful.  “And it didn’t occur to you to go and find out what the fuss was about?”

Johnny shrugged.  “Like I said, Scott, I really ain’t too interested in the ranchers hereabouts.”  He held his left arm out.  “And l’d cut my arm, so I guess I was thinking of that.”

Scott raised an eyebrow and gave him a look which said he sure didn’t believe that.  “So, Johnny, you obviously rode back from town, will you be joining the posse?”

“Well, much as I’d love to help, Boston, I got a real sore arm, so I guess you’ll all have to manage without me.”  He could feel Scott’s eyes boring into him as he went and stretched himself out on the couch.  But he was damned if he’d lift a finger for those ranchers.  This time they could sort their trouble out themselves.

Footsteps were echoing down the hallway.  Heavy footsteps.   And he felt himself tense as he waited for the next load of questions that would be fired in his direction. Somehow, he didn’t think his father would accept a sore arm as a good enough reason not to ride.  But he wouldn’t join that fucking posse if his life depended on it.

“Scott, I’ve got together some men, maybe we’ll run into Johnny on the way to...”  The words died as his father saw him lying on the couch.

“This is no time to be lying around, John.  Surely Scott’s told you we’re forming a posse.”  He sounded real snappy, no surprises there.

“I’m afraid, Sir, that Johnny won’t be able to join us, he’s injured.”  Scott sounded very smooth.  And calm.  Calm enough to keep the old man from laying into him?

“Injured?”  Murdoch looked at him, real hard.  “Injured how?”  And then he saw the bandages.  “What have you done to your arm?  Not a bushwhacker...”  Leastways he sounded concerned.  That wouldn’t last.

“No.”  It came out snappier than he meant it to.  But hell, he was sick of people thinking he must have been shot, like that was the only thing that could ever happen to him.  “I cut my arm.  OK?  Sam stitched it up.”

His father looked real puzzled, was looking at Scott now, like it was only ever Scott who could answer questions.  “What’s happened to it?  How did he do it?”

“I ain’t lost my voice, old man.  I can answer questions for myself.”  The old man’s expression grew harder.  His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.  Probably wasn’t the most sensible thing Madrid could have said right then.  “Look, I cut it whittling, but like I said, Sam’s stitched it all up.  It was a real deep cut.”  Would that win him a little sympathy?  Maybe make the old man ease up on him?

“Whittling?  What the hell were you doing whittling?  This is a working ranch, not a hobby farm and there is too much to do to spend our days sitting around whittling.”

So much for the sympathy.  “I’d been working on fence lines since dawn and it was my lunch break.  Or aren’t I allowed to stop for chow?  Perhaps you’d rather I just work myself to death.  Or leave.  That way you won’t have to keep apologising for having your gunfighter son here.”  Why did he say these things?  Why did he just keep pushing and pushing?  Almost like he wanted the old man to throw him out.  And things had been better of late too.  But it felt like Madrid was back in control and Johnny Lancer had gone missing. 

His father was pacing angrily around the room now.  Had his fists clenched real tight like he was trying to keep his temper under control.  But his eyes never left Madrid. 

“I assume that a sore arm doesn’t preclude you from getting off your backside and joining the posse.  We need to get going.  We don’t want Turner building up too much of a head’s start.” 

Johnny held his gaze.  Nobody was going to fucking well give him orders.  “Like I said, it’s a real deep cut.  Sam said I had to take it easy.”

Murdoch snorted.  “I can’t believe that Sam told you not to ride.  And since when did you ever take any notice of what anyone suggested when you’re injured?”

Shit.  The man had a point.  “I lost a lot of blood, felt real bad.  In fact, your friend, Mrs. Conway, took me to Sam’s, I was in such a bad way.”

Well, that stopped him in his tracks.  Briefly.  But not for long enough.  “Well, I’ll remember to thank Aggie when I next see her.  But you look absolutely fine now.  I believe that’s your favourite expression, isn’t it?  And I can see no reason why you can’t ride.  We need all the men we can get.”

Johnny shook his head and narrowed his eyes.  Kept his voice real soft.  “I ain’t coming.” 

The pulse was going now at the side of his father’s head.  Just like it always did when he got real mad.  And Scott gave a soft sort of sigh, shut his eyes briefly and shook his head.

“Are you refusing to come and help?  Did I hear you right?”  The old man had gone a funny colour too and the pulse was going faster.

“Yeah, you heard right.  And I ain’t coming.” 

“Sir, don’t you think we should get a move on...” 

At least Scott was trying to help, but somehow he suspected it wasn’t going to work. 

“So you’re happy to go into town for a gunfight, but not to join a posse.  A crime has been committed and it’s your duty to join a posse, if you know the meaning of the word duty.  Show that you are a law abiding member of this community.”

“I ain’t lifting a finger to help your rancher friends.  An’ I tell you something else, old man.  If some of your so called friends get to Turner before the posse, they’ll turn into a lynch mob.  That’s the sort of people your so called friends are.  So I suggest you get moving.”

Murdoch took a step forward.  Shit.  Was his father going to hit him?  But no.  The man seemed to be fighting to control himself.  Breathing real hard and his fists were clenched even tighter.

“You might not like some of the local ranchers, but whatever their failings they are decent men.  You’re living amongst civilised people now – not the rabble you’re used to.” 

Scott gave another exasperated sigh.  “I really feel that this is Johnny’s choice.  If he doesn’t feel up to coming, or chooses not to, it’s his affair.  We need to get moving.”  Scott pulled Murdoch’s arm.  “Come on.”

The old man shot Johnny another furious glare.  “You and I aren’t done here, boy.  I’ll continue this later.”  He turned and followed Scott to the door, banging it hard as they left the room, making the sailboat model rock on its stand.

Shit.  Why did he do these things?  He always seemed to end up pushing the old man to breaking point.  Seemed like he couldn’t help himself.  Hell, he seemed to be losing his grip on everything at the moment.  And now his arm was throbbing.  Probably hadn’t even been necessary to cut it.  If only Val hadn’t gone on about Wanted Posters.  Had no reason to think anyone would come looking for him because of Utah.  It seemed so long ago now.  But...   He shivered.  And the hairs on his neck seemed to be on end.  Oh shit.  He was just imagining things.  Just relax, Madrid.  Ain’t nobody coming.  Not now.  But if they did, at least he’d covered his tracks as best he could.  Just hoped it was enough.

 

Part Twenty-Eight

They rode in silence towards Green River, slightly apart from the hands Murdoch had rounded up to join the posse. 

Wisps of smoke drifted into the sky from the vaqueros’ small settlement on the eastern boundary.  A hoard of young, dark eyed Mexican children, distracted from some game resembling hopscotch, ran to watch the group of sombre-faced men riding past.

Murdoch’s face might have been cast in stone but his lips were compressed in a thin line.  Scott sighed.  Truth be told, he was tired of acting as a buffer between his father and brother.  But it seemed that the task was falling to him yet again.  Sometimes it felt that it would be easier just to return to Boston.  To a world where he could predict, with reasonable accuracy, what each day might bring.  A world of theatres, music and long leisurely evenings with friends, enjoying dinners which stretched into the early hours of the morning while they debated politics and business.  A place where a man wasn’t measured by the speed of his draw or his ability to ride out the bucks of a young horse.  A place with more civilised modes of behaviour.

So yes, it would be easier to return to that life, but he knew that it no longer interested him.  He wasn’t sure if it had ever interested him.  He knew if he returned he would grow bored very quickly.  And even if he wanted to, how could he leave when he knew that it would be tantamount to signing his brother’s death warrant?  Because he was certain of one thing:- if he left it would only be a matter of time before Johnny and Murdoch would fall out and Johnny would storm off, back to his old life and the promise of an early grave.  And Scott knew that he couldn’t live with that on his conscience.  He already had too many sins from the war to trouble him, without adding to the litany. 

So it looked as though he would have to accept the role of peacemaker – at least it was preferable to that of war monger.  He glanced across at Murdoch who still looked tight lipped and angry and wondered if the man would ever come close to understanding Johnny.  Understanding Johnny.  Never-mind whether Murdoch would, would he ever understand his own brother?  Sometimes he felt that he was making headway.  Johnny would throw some snippet of information about his past like a man throwing meat to a dog.  And Scott savoured each morsel.   But then at other times Johnny seemed to retreat out of reach.  A menacing stranger from a different world.  A very dangerous stranger who shouldn’t be underestimated and who would probably never give away any information that he didn’t want to give.  A man always in control of every situation.  And that was what it boiled down to.  Johnny played them all, an affectionate smile for Teresa; light hearted teasing for Maria, particularly when he wanted to wheedle a Mexican meal out of her; an occasional story for Scott and light hearted banter for Sam.  It seemed that the only person he wasn’t playing was Murdoch.  Or maybe he was.  The taunts, the swearing, the constant challenge to their father’s authority, perhaps it was just another of Johnny’s games, albeit a dangerous one.

He pushed his hat back and looked once more at Murdoch.  “Why do you do it?”

His father gave a slight start, looked at him in confusion.  “Do what?  What are you talking about?”

“You and Johnny.  Why do you keep pushing him?  Do you want him to leave?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  Of course I don’t want him to leave.  You know that.  He knows that.  But he does need to be reminded of his responsibilities as he seems totally unaware of how he should behave.”  Murdoch settled himself deeper in his saddle, pulling his coat around him in an effort to keep out the chill wind.  “And I don’t think now is the time to discuss this.”

Scott bit back a smile.  “You’ll never think there’s a right time to discuss it.  But I disagree.  I think his attitude over this is perfectly understandable.  In the light of the way the other ranchers have treated him, can you really blame him for not coming along?” 

Murdoch was silent for a moment, as though trying to decide how to frame an answer to the question.  “My point is, Scott, that this is precisely why Johnny should have joined the posse.  It’s an ideal opportunity for him to show himself to be a responsible member of this community, but that would be too easy for him.”  Murdoch’s voice started to rise as he voiced his frustration.  “Why couldn’t he just do this one thing for me?  Is it really too much to expect?”

“He has just had several stitches in his arm.  Riding must be difficult and you need your wits about you on a posse.”  Scott kept his tone mild, hoping that Murdoch would calm down.

“Stitches!”  Murdoch sounded scornful.  “You know as well as I do that a few stitches wouldn’t stop him from doing anything he wanted to do.”

Scott grinned.  The man had a point.  Murdoch glared at him.  “This is not funny, Scott.  And whittling?  What the hell was he doing whittling?  He was meant to be working.  And since when did he whittle?  I’ve never seen him do anything except clean those damn guns.”

Scott shrugged.  “Who knows?  I’d have thought that you’d be pleased he had a hobby.”

Murdoch snorted derisively.  “A hobby.  There isn’t time for hobbies during the day.  He needs to keep his mind on his job and put in a good day’s work.”

“He does.  And you know it.  He works very hard, harder than I do, if I’m honest. He works longer hours than pretty much anyone else on this ranch.  He regularly works through meal breaks and he drives himself hard.  He obviously feels that he has something to prove.”  Scott paused.  “To you.”

Murdoch turned sharply to look at him.  “I don’t need him to prove anything.  I just want to see a good day’s work.”

Scott sighed.  “That’s not true.  You ride him harder than anyone else on the ranch.  And let’s be honest, if it had been me sitting there with stitches in my arm, you wouldn’t have even asked me to join the posse.  You would have wanted to check that I was all right.  But because it was Johnny, you just got cross, as though you weren’t concerned at all.”  He knew his words were harsh, but Murdoch needed to hear a few home truths before the situation could deteriorate further.

“Of course I was concerned...”  Murdoch paused and chewed on his lip for a moment before sighing heavily.  “You’re right.  I did fly off the handle.  But I was frustrated because I really did think it was a good opportunity for him to...”

“Behave like a civilised person?”  Scott couldn’t resist finishing the sentence.  Murdoch nodded. 

Scott gave him a rueful smile.  “The ridiculous thing is that we can’t need a posse like this for one thief.  Anyone would think the man was some desperado on a killing spree.”  He felt a cold sensation in his stomach as Johnny’s words of warning came back to him.  “You don’t think that Johnny’s right, do you, about the posse turning into a lynch mob?”

Murdoch shook his head vigorously.  “No.  I’ve known these men for years.  They wouldn’t behave like that.”

“You didn’t think they were the sort of men who would bushwhack someone, but one of them tried to bushwhack Johnny.  And I don’t suppose you’d ever have thought that Seth Turner could be a thief.  I wonder whether we ever really know anybody.”

Murdoch frowned and then nodded slowly.  “I have to admit that people have certainly surprised me recently.  I knew Johnny wouldn’t be welcomed but some of the comments...”  He trailed off with a sigh.  “And the bushwhacking...  But no, I can’t believe they’d lynch someone.  Anyway, it can’t happen because we’ll all be riding in a group with the sheriff.”

“And speaking of our new sheriff, there he is.”  Scott pointed at a small group of men riding toward them in tight formation.

The men reined in as they met on the trail.  Val Crawford tipped his hat and cast a quick eye over the Lancer group.  “Thought we’d come and meet you.  We believe Turner’s heading east, towards Bitterville.  I imagine he figures we’ll think he’s headed south to the border and hopes to throw us off.  We’d better get going.”  He looked again at the group, as though puzzled, a small furrow forming between his eyes.  He looked at Scott.  “Where’s Johnny?  I thought he’d be with you.”

Murdoch gave a grunt of irritation.  Scott ignored it and smiled blandly.  “Johnny couldn’t come.  He’s got several stitches in his arm.  He cut it very badly.”

“Cut his arm?  How did he do that?”

“Whittling.  The boy was whittling.  Now can we get on?”  Murdoch looked at Val, who had a slightly bemused expression on his face.

“Whittling?” A big smile spread across Val’s face.  “Johnny Madrid whittling?”  He shook his head as if in disbelief.  “Dang!  Now I’ve heard everything.” 

Murdoch glared at him.  “Can we get on?  We don’t want Turner to get away.  Where are the others anyway?”

Val turned his horse towards the pass leading to Bitterville.  “Some of them have gone ahead.  They hoped to cut him off before the ground changes and it gets trickier to track him.  Pity Johnny couldn’t come.   Arrogant son of a bitch is always saying he’s a mean tracker.”

Scott bit back another smile as Murdoch just grunted in response to Val’s comment. His father raised a gloved hand to greet Henry Carter and Matt Dixon as they eased their horses alongside Scott.  But this was no time for pleasantries and by some unspoken agreement the party surged ahead, with Val riding slightly ahead, the main group fanning back behind him.

Scott urged his horse on to ride alongside Val.  He had no desire to be with Carter and Dixon, suspecting that they would use the opportunity to make more barbed comments about Johnny.

Val glanced over as he drew level with him.  “Johnny is OK, ain’t he?  Seems odd that he’d let a few stitches stand in his way of joining us.  I reckon he’s ridden with far worse than that in the past.”

Scott gave him a rueful smile.  “I think you can probably guess why he didn’t want to come to help this lot.”

Val shrugged down deeper into his tartan wool jacket.  “He’s one stubborn son of a bitch.  He sure hasn’t changed any.”

Scott studied Val thoughtfully.  Where did Val know Johnny from?  There was quite a difference in age between the two of them, but he felt certain that Johnny would call the shots in just about any situation and that Val would defer.  He knew he shouldn’t ask Val but he couldn’t deny his need for information, any information, about his new-found brother.  He still feared that he could lose Johnny at any moment.  Lose him to a gunfight, a bushwhacker or just have him walk out because Murdoch pushed too hard or maybe just because Johnny was too set in his ways and habits to make the change to responsible rancher and perhaps didn’t have the stomach for the challenge.

He shivered in the icy, biting wind that gnawed at the very core of a man.  Johnny would have hated it.

Val just hunched his shoulders up against the wind and pulled his hat down further.  He had the look of a man who’d done a lot of solitary riding in his time, who’d take anything that came.  Where the hell had he met Johnny?  And when?

“You say he hasn’t changed, when did you first know Johnny?”  Well, he’d never find out if he didn’t at least ask.  No harm in asking.

Val stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the trail where it met the sky.  “Don’t recall.  Best you ask him, he might remember.”

Scott gritted his teeth.  He didn’t intend for the sheriff to get off that lightly.  “Well, you must recall roughly how old he was.  Was he established as a gunfighter when you first met him?”

Val shrugged.  “I really don’t recall.  I only ever met him a couple of times.  A few years apart.”  Val shut his jaw tight, like he regretted saying what he’d just said.  Almost like he felt he’d given something away.

Scott pursed his lips thoughtfully.  A few years apart.  So Johnny must have been a lot younger when he’d first met Val.  And obviously Val had remembered the meeting.  So where could it have been?  And why would Val have remembered him?  The man certainly wasn’t being very forthcoming.  His memory couldn’t be that bad.  Had Johnny asked him not to say anything? 

He thought he’d go out on a limb.  Try a bluff and see if Val would fall for it.  “Yes, Johnny said he was just a kid when he first met you.”

It wasn’t going to work.  The look Val gave him said it all, not a man to fall into such an obvious trap.  “Well, I figure if Johnny said that, he remembers events better than me.  Like I said, you’d best ask him.”  Val urged his horse into a faster lope, making it impossible to carry on the conversation.  Scott shook his head in frustration.  Was it so unreasonable that he should want to learn more about his new found brother?  He gave an exasperated sigh.  Whatever the reason for Val’s reticence, now wasn’t the time to pursue it.  He glanced up at the grey sky.  A bank of ominous clouds was building on the horizon and he could see rain far off.  Damn.  It was going to be a wet ride as well as a cold one.  He envied Johnny, back at the ranch, doubtless curled up sleeping in front of the fire of the Great Room or scrounging cookies in the kitchen, making the most of his injured arm to win sympathy from Teresa and Maria.  Strange how he’d managed to cut himself so badly whittling on some wood.  Johnny was very adept at all manual tasks and was blessed with quick hands.  Somehow, it didn’t ring true.  And there was something niggling away in his memory if only he could remember what it was, something to do with his brother’s arm. 

He glanced back at the group riding behind him, still in a tight formation.  Murdoch was sandwiched between Carter and Dixon.  It was apparent that the other local ranchers had ridden out earlier in search of Turner, anxious that the man shouldn’t get too big a head start while the main posse was formed.  Maybe they’d all get lucky and catch up with him before nightfall.  Scott certainly didn’t relish a night on the trail in these conditions, although there might be some shelter in the pass.  He knew it was narrow with rocky overhangs in parts.  Few trees grew there, though occasionally it opened out to allow a few Garry oaks to survive in the thin soil.

He urged his horse onward to join Val, who had slowed again as the ground became more rocky and uneven.  Progress here would be halting as the horses picked their way through the pass.  The first drops of rain were carried in the wind, which funnelled them through the steep pass to sting the men’s faces.  Val cursed, wrapping his bandana to cover his chin and pulling his hat lower on his head.  Scott rode close alongside, reminded of his days in the cavalry when men rode closer together to ward off the worst effects of bad weather.  The pass narrowed ahead, bending sharply to the left, in other circumstances Scott would have thought it was a good place for an ambush, but at least that wasn’t a concern today.

He and Val rounded the sharp bend just as their horses spooked, digging their hooves in, refusing to carry on.  And there, hanging from a gnarled oak tree, stirring in the quickening wind, was the body of a man.

 

Part Twenty-Nine

Val smothered an oath as he slid from his horse and strode towards the body.  Scott moved quickly to Val’s side and steadied the swaying form so that the sheriff could cut it down from the gnarled tree.  Despite the blue, contorted face, and swollen, protruding tongue, he could see that, in life, it had been Seth Turner. 

“Bastards.”  Val spoke in a low voice, but he seemed to be shaking with barely controlled rage. 

“Johnny was right.”  Although Scott spoke more to himself, Val turned toward him.

“Right about what?  A lynch mob?”

Scott nodded sombrely.  “Johnny said it wouldn’t take much to turn a bunch of angry ranchers into a lynch mob.  It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?”

Val nodded.  “Yeah, I reckon so.  I guess Johnny judged ’em well.  God Almighty, so the man stole their money, wasn’t no cause to do this to him.”

Scott turned as Murdoch and the rest of the posse picked their way over the rocks and into view.  Even though his father’s face was half hidden by his hat, Scott could see his expression harden and pale at the shocking sight of Turner’s body.  He stumbled from his horse, closely followed by Dixon and Carter, and came to Scott’s side.  “God Almighty.  That things should come to this.”

Henry Carter shook his head.  “Guess he felt guilty and hung himself.”

Val’s face was a picture.  Scott put out a restraining hand thinking that Val was about to hit Carter. 

“You blind or something?  He didn’t hang himself, he’s been strung up.  No way did he do that himself.”

Matt Dixon nodded agreement.  “Sorry, Henry, but I have to agree with Sheriff Crawford.  No way Turner did that himself.”  He paused before adding in a dismissive tone, “Turner wouldn’t have had the guts anyhow.”

Carter nodded.  “Aye, that’s true enough.  Guess he ran into some bunch of outlaws.”

Val made a sound which could only have been described as derisive snort.  Scott felt maybe it was prudent to keep his restraining hand on Val’s arm. 

“You really are a couple of dumbasses, ain’t you?  Seems to me it’s far more likely that he ran into some of those ranchers who didn’t bother waiting for us.  Outlaws my ass.”  Val threw them a ferocious glare, shaking his head in disgust.

Carter puffed out his chest, stepping forward aggressively.  “No need to take that sort of tone, Sheriff.  And you’ve got no call to go accusing the local ranchers.  They’re all good law abiding people.”  He turned angrily towards Murdoch.  “But talking of outlaws, where was that boy of yours today?  Far more likely to have been the work of someone like Madrid.  I told you he’s scum, not fit to be with decent folk.”

Scott didn’t know his father could move so fast.  Before he could intercede, Murdoch’s fist flew out and connected with Carter’s face with a resounding thud, sending Carter sprawling in the dirt.  Murdoch towered over the man, who scrambled to his feet while throwing a punch at Murdoch’s stomach.  Murdoch sidestepped neatly and caught the man a glancing punch to the chin, which threw him face down in the dirt.   Bending to grasp the rancher by the front of his jacket and hauling him to his feet, Murdoch hissed, “Don’t you dare say things like that about my son.  My God, Carter, Johnny’s done so much for this community since coming home.  Put his life on the line more than once, but that’s not good enough for the likes of you, is it?  Well, I tell you, I’m sick of you all.  Sick of the way you’ve all been treating him.  Hell, one of you even tried to put a bullet in his back, but you’re quick enough to use him aren’t you?  You’re a bunch of hypocrites, the whole damn lot of you.  All of you.  You all make me sick to my stomach and to think that I thought I knew you all.  All these years but I didn’t know you at all.”  He thrust his hands into his pockets, letting Carter fall back to the ground.

“Murdoch.  You gone mad or something?”  Dixon grasped his arm, pulling him to face him.  “It’s a fair question.  Where was Madrid today?  Not unreasonable that we want to know.  I know he’s your son, and you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t feel some loyalty, but I tell you, nobody wants him here, and if someone tried to put a bullet in his back, good riddance.  The boy’s no good, you just don’t seem to see it.”

Scott winced as Murdoch’s fists flew again.  He turned towards Val, expecting the sheriff to say something, but the man was looking intently at the ground and his shoulders were shaking.  Scott bit back a smile.  He had to admit that Murdoch had surprised him.  He just wished Johnny had been with them to see it.  He’d never believe this.

Murdoch towered over the two ranchers, prone on the ground.  His face had an unhealthy scarlet tinge, and he had both his fists clenched tight, as though trying to stop himself striking out again.  “If you must know, Johnny was out on the south range this morning.  He cut himself badly and Aggie Conway drove him to Sam’s, who proceeded to stitch him back together and send him home, which is where he is now.  So I think Johnny has more than enough witnesses as to his whereabouts today.  Even to satisfy the likes of you two.  And let me tell you, he’s worth more than the whole lot of you put together.  You hadn’t got the guts to sort out the trouble in town yourself but you didn’t hesitate to try and use my son.  And then you treat him like dirt, just like you did after he risked his life to get rid of Pardee and his men.”

“You just going to stand there, Sheriff, and let Lancer here treat us like this?”  Carter was trying to scramble to his feet.  “The man assaulted us.  You’re a witness.  You should arrest him.”

Val furrowed his brow and scratched his head thoughtfully.  “Witness to what?  I didn’t see anything.  Reckon you tripped, Mr. Carter.” 

Carter clenched his jaw, a vein pulsing in the side of his head.  Blood oozed from a cut under his eye and his lip was already starting to swell.  Scott couldn’t help thinking that Sam should have joined the posse.  At this rate there would be all manner of ailments for him to treat from heart attacks to cut lips.

Carter strutted over to Val, his chest puffed out.  “Easy to see who’s paying your wages, Crawford.”

Scott flinched.  It hadn’t been a wise thing to say.

Val swung round aggressively and, pushing his face close to Carter, he hissed, “It’s Sheriff to you.  And if Murdoch Lancer commits a crime, I’ll throw him in jail, and it won’t make no difference then who pays my wages.  I’m here to uphold the law and that’s what I’ll do.   And right now I’m more interested in who did this to Seth Turner than fussing over your injured pride, so get out of my face.”

Val ignored Dixon and Carter who stood huddled together, talking in low voices, and turned back to look at Turner’s body again.  “Dammit!  If I find out who did this, I’ll make sure they hang.”

Murdoch, looking rather shame-faced now, crouched over the body.  “It’s not going to be easy.  Without witnesses...”  His voice trailed off as the sound of hooves echoed around the narrow pass.  Driscoll, on a skinny mare, and Santee, riding a big barrel-chested sorrel approached from the eastern end.

“Thought we heard voices...”  Santee paused, as he took in the scene in front of him.  “Hell, is that Turner?”

Val eyed them suspiciously.  “And just where have you two been?” 

Santee’s face was a picture in innocent surprise.  “What d’you mean, Sheriff?  Driscoll and I covered one side of the pass and Turpin and his men covered the other side.”  He paused, a furrow between his eyes as he screwed up his face as though puzzled.  “What happened to Turner?  You shoot him, did you?”

“I’d say even a jack ass could tell he’s been hanged.”  Val scowled at them.  “So, somebody got to him first and I’m real keen to find out who.”

Driscoll shrugged.  “Well, whoever did it, did us all a favour.  We won’t have to drag our asses any further from home.  He probably ran into some outlaws.”

“That’s what we said.”  Dixon looked full of his own importance now.  “And what I want to know is where’s our money?”

“Aye, what about our money, Sheriff?”  Carter’s words were muffled as he dabbed at the blood on his face with a large spotted handkerchief.  “Instead of standing here worrying over Turner, you should be looking for our money.”

“Anyway, where’s Madrid?  For all we know he’s responsible for this...”  Santee got no further before Val interrupted, even as Scott shot his hand out to restrain Murdoch, who was turning a really interesting shade of purple.

“Johnny ain’t got nothing to do with all of this and there’s a whole parcel of people who can vouch for him, so leave him out of this.”  Val paused as Donovan and Turpin rode into view.  Carter and Dixon hurried over to them and started talking in low voices, but their agitation was clear to all as they gesticulated wildly and pointed towards Murdoch and Val.

“Val.”  Scott spoke quietly, hoping that he could have a few private words with the sheriff.  “What do we do next?  Take Turner’s body back, or start hunting for the money?  Always assuming that whoever did this didn’t take it for themselves.”

Val rubbed his chin and squinted up at the sky.  “I guess we could have a quick scout round for the money, but it’ll be dark soon and I’d like to get the body back.  One thing’s for sure, ain’t no way we’re going to find out who did this unless someone comes over feeling real guilty and wants to confess.  And somehow I don’t see that happening.  Did Turner have a wife or family?”

Scott shrugged.  “I really don’t know anything about him.  I haven’t been here long and I’m still getting to know everyone.  But Murdoch will know.”  Turning, he beckoned his father over and couldn’t help but think that the further away Murdoch was from Carter and the rest of the ranchers, the better.

“Did Turner have family, Murdoch?”

He shook his head.  “No, it was all rather sad.  His wife died giving birth to their second child and the first child was taken by the measles.  He was a rather lonely man.  I think he’d lost the will to carry on and his ranch was becoming very run down.  I guess that he saw the opportunity of some easy money and maybe a fresh start.  But to end up like this...”  Murdoch trailed off, the sadness in his face plain to see.  “It’s a hard life out here and better men than Turner have gone under.”  He glanced at Scott.  “You’ll find out for yourself how hard life out west is, not an easy ride for anyone.  Never mind fighting Indians and outlaws to build what we have, the weather, long hours and back-breaking work take their toll on everyone.”  He looked at Val with a sombre expression.  “I’ve asked my Segundo to search the outlying rocks for any sign of the money.  If we find that nearby, it’ll certainly put an end to the idea of Turner running into a band of outlaws – they’d have taken money with them.”

He’d barely finished speaking when Cipriano called out from a crevice in the rocks a few feet from the ground.  “Patron.  The money, it is here.”  He held up some saddle bags and tossed them down to one of the hands.  Carter, on still shaky legs, hurried over to grab the bags before opening them and counting the money out with Dixon and the others, as if to reassure themselves that there wasn’t a single dollar missing.

Murdoch looked with disgust at the group.  He shook his head.  “To think I thought I knew these men.  Look at them, I know it’s their money but they’re like a pack of jackals.”

Val pulled his coat tighter, and pushing his hat forward to keep the driving rain out of his eyes, called out to the group.  “Never mind that money.  I got something to say to you all, so get your sorry asses over here, now.”  The tone of his voice got their attention, and Scott smothered a very brief smile at the sight of the group of bedraggled ranchers walking slowly to join the sheriff.

“Now, I think we need to get things straight.  First off, it’s obvious Turner weren’t killed by no outlaws.  Any self respecting outlaw would have taken your damn money, not left it for you to find...”

“Maybe someone came along, surprised them and they took off.”

Val glared at Driscoll.  “I am cold and wet and my temper is already wearing real thin.  Don’t piss me off any more than I am already.  So, like I was saying, it wasn’t no outlaw who did this to Turner.  There’s a killer standing here now.  And  I’ll wager that he, or they, are real pleased with themselves right now, thinking they’ve made fools of the rest of us and had their revenge on Turner, but I warn you if I find out who was responsible for this, I’ll see you hang.  Seems you’ve had things all your own way for too long, using the law when it suits you and ignoring it when it don’t.  Well, things are gonna change.  I’m sheriff here now, which means there’ll be some law around these parts and I swear, I will enforce the law and you all had best remember that.  Now all of you, get the hell out of here.”

Scott couldn’t help smiling.  Val seemed to have taken the wind out of their sails completely, because the men shuffled off, mounted up and rode out.  He and Cipriano lifted Turner’s body across one of the horses and tied it down while Murdoch stood with a bowed head, seemingly lost in thought.  Scott touched him gently on the shoulder.  “Are you ready?  We’re riding back now, Sir.”

Murdoch gave a heavy sigh.  “Aye, I’m ready.”  He mounted up and the party retraced their tracks towards Green River and home.  They rode in silence.  Val still looked furious about the turn of events and Murdoch seemed sunk in gloom and not inclined to talk.  Even the ranch hands riding behind were silent.  Turner’s body struck Scott as a savage reminder of what a very wild place the west still was.  The wild west – they’d named it well.

They took their leave of Val a few miles before Green River, where the path divided.  Murdoch instructed a couple of hands to accompany him on to town to help with the body, while the rest of the party turned towards Lancer.

Looking at Murdoch’s drawn face, Scott felt a stab of concern for his father.  He’d taken events badly and perhaps the time had come to try and lighten the situation.  “Johnny will be sorry to have missed this.”

Murdoch turned sharply in the saddle to look at him, his brow furrowed.  “I’m sorry, I don’t get your drift.”

Scott’s mouth quirked with amusement.  “Well, seeing his old man in a fist fight.  He’s never going to believe it.”

For a moment he thought Murdoch was going to snap at him, but then, reluctantly almost, the man smiled.  “Probably not!  I suspect he’ll never let me hear the end of this.” 

“Could you blame him?  Given how hard you are on him?”

Murdoch shook his head.  “Am I really that hard on him?” 

Scott paused, weighing his reply carefully.  Perhaps just this once his father would listen, really listen.  “Yes, Sir, I’m afraid you are.  I have to admit that I regularly ask myself why he stays.”

It got a response.  Murdoch’s face paled.  “That bad?  Am I really that hard on him?”

Scott nodded.  “And the sad part is, he really doesn’t expect much.  Hell, who am I trying to kid, he doesn’t think he deserves much, but just the odd word of encouragement from you seems to make all the difference to him.  If I’m honest, it seems to mean the world to him.  It makes me wonder if anyone has ever been kind to him in his whole life.  I keep telling you, he’s a good man but this life is tough for him.  So different to anything he’s ever known before but he’s trying, he’s really trying to fit in, so can’t you meet him half way?  Ease up a little?  I know you say you don’t have time to break him in gently, but if you don’t, I fear you won’t have him at all.”

“I’ve told him I don’t want him to leave, you know that.  I’ve told him more than once.  And I told him how proud I was of him when he sent the ranchers off when they came to try and buy his gun.”  Murdoch paused, lost in thought again.  “It was odd, I heard him whistling that day.  I’ve never heard him whistling at any other time.”

Scott grinned.  “Well, doesn’t that tell you something?”

Murdoch looked across at him through narrowed eyes.  “No need to be so cocky.  But I have a nasty feeling I’m never going to hear the end of my fistfight!  Come on, son, let’s go home.”  And spurring his horse on he raced ahead leaving Scott covered in a cloud of dust.

 

Part Thirty

Life could be a hell of a lot worse.  He stretched himself out on the couch and lit one of Murdoch’s best cigars.  There was nothing quite like extra spicy tamales and beans for putting him in a good mood.  His injured arm had worked a treat on the women of the house.  Teresa had rushed around with jugs of lemonade and cushions for him to relax on, while Maria had set to in the kitchen to make something special for poor Juanito.  And knowing what his favourite meal was... well, the day had turned out just fine.

Even better, he’d been able to enjoy his meal in peace, without having to fret and worry about trying to make conversation.  Or disapproving looks when he drank tequila with it.  No, all in all, it had been a pretty good day.   Leaning forward, he topped up his glass with another shot of tequila – one hundred per cent blue agave – not gut rot.  He sighed contentedly before taking a long drag on the cigar.  Damn, it was good.

He blew some perfect smoke circles which drifted up before dissolving into nothingness.  Smoke circles always made him grin.  Yeah, it had been a real good day.  And with a bit of luck, the posse might be away for some time.  Maybe, by the time they got back, the old man would have calmed down and not still be mad at him.  Hell, wasn’t like they needed him – not for one dirt poor rancher who’d made off with their money.  If it had been some bunch of outlaws it would have been different.  He’d have gone, if only to keep an eye out for the old man and Boston.  But shit, not for one lone thief.  Why did they need a big posse for one thief, anyhow?  Dios.  Fucking ranchers.  Just ’cos someone had stolen their money.  But the same bunch of men hadn’t been prepared to risk an ounce of their blood to protect their womenfolk.  Cowards, the whole fucking lot of them.  All fired up for their posse ’cos they knew there wasn’t no risk in it.  And God help poor Seth Turner, whoever he was, if the ranchers found him before Val did.  No telling what men like that would do. 

Funny that the old man couldn’t see what they were like.  He’d have figured Murdoch to be a better judge of men.  What was it Boston had said?  Something about not wanting to believe such things of people you thought you knew well?  Something like that.  Maybe he was right.  Seemed that finding out what a bigot Mrs. Conway was had sure shaken the old man.  Still, she’d been OK earlier in the day.  He’d actually felt some sympathy for her then, when she’d said how jealous she’d been of Mama.  Sounded honest.  Kind of brave, really, to admit that.  And he figured that women would have been jealous of Mama.  Dios, she’d been a looker. 

He leaned forward to pour another drink, but hesitated as the sound of hooves signalled the arrival of the men back from the posse.  He resisted the urge to fill his glass.  If the old man was still mad at him, he’d need all his wits about him.  He put the stopper back in the bottle but he was damned if he’d hide the cigar.  He took an extra long drag on it and then exhaled slowly, hoping the smoke would hang in the air.  Show Murdoch Lancer that he did as he damn well pleased.  Including taking his father’s best cigars if he felt like it.

But his gut was already feeling tighter.  Dios.  How pathetic was that?  Getting on edge just because his father was back sooner than he’d hoped.  He was too tired for another row.  Maybe the old man wouldn’t start in on him.  Maybe he’d leave it to the morning.  His father’s parting words were ringing in his head.  That their discussion wasn’t over.  And he could still see the anger in his father’s eyes when he’d left to join the posse.  Angry with Johnny because he wouldn’t go with them.  Shit. 

He could hear their voices now.  Murdoch and Scott joshing each other about something.  Leastways his father sounded in a good mood.  That wouldn’t last.  He took another drag on the cigar and leaned back like he hadn’t a care in the world, just as the door opened.

He had to bite back a smile.  They sure looked wet.  And cold.  But they were still smiling about whatever they’d just been talking about.  He envied Scott that, if he was honest, just to be able to relax and talk like it came easy. 

Murdoch sniffed the air, looking like a dog on the scent of a bitch on heat.  “Is that one of my best cigars?”

Johnny shrugged.  “Yeah.  You got a problem with that?”

Murdoch held his gaze, his face giving nothing away.  “No, Johnny, I don’t have a problem with that – so long as you left one for me, too.”

Johnny inclined his head, nodding towards the box, sitting open on his father’s desk.  “Plenty to go round.”

Scott grabbed a bottle of whisky and a glass as he moved to stand in front of the fire to warm himself.  If he got any closer he’d catch light.  “I’ll have a cigar, too, please.  I think we deserve one.”

“So?  You catch up with Turner, did you?”  Their smiles disappeared as fast as a rattler striking.  Johnny narrowed his eyes and waited, figuring that things had not gone well for the posse.

“Not soon enough, I’m afraid.”  Scott spoke softly, as he poured himself a generous measure of scotch. 

Johnny raised an eyebrow fractionally.  “You mean someone got to him first?”  He paused, gave a slight shake of his head.  “I’m guessing he was dead.”

Murdoch bowed his head and sighed. “Yes.  Seems you were right about a lynching.”

“D’you find out who did it?”

“No.  It could have been Driscoll and Santee, or Turpin and Donovan.  We can’t prove anything.”  Murdoch shuffled his feet like he was embarrassed.  “Johnny...” The man hesitated, chewed on his lip and scratched his ear.  Real fidgety, like he didn’t know how to say something.  “Son, I owe you an apology.  I found out today that you’re a far better judge of men that I am.”

Johnny almost choked on his cigar.  Started coughing and then damn near dropped the thing.  The ghost of a smile crossed his father’s face.  “Having a spot of trouble with that cigar, Johnny?  Too strong for you, maybe?  Or was it something I said?”

The queasy feeling in his gut had gone.  He laughed softly.  “Well, it sure wasn’t the cigar, old man.  Just wondered if I ought to get my hearing checked out.”

Scott nodded.  “Yes, it’s a well established fact that cutting your arm that badly very often affects your hearing.”

“And you’d know, Boston, seeing as how you’ve been to that fancy school an’ all.”

Murdoch poured himself a drink and raised his glass to Johnny.  “You were right about them all.  And, quite justified in not wanting to join a posse to chase after their money.  I’m truly sorry, Johnny.  They have behaved appallingly to you and quite frankly I’m amazed that you’ve put up with it and even more surprised that you haven’t walked out on us.”

Johnny stared down at the floor, couldn’t look at the man while he tried to figure out what to say.  Surprised he hadn’t walked out?  Hell, nobody was more surprised about that than himself.  “Hell, I guess I’m used to it, Murdoch.  If a man chooses to make his living with a gun, well, ain’t nobody going to be too happy to have him around.  Except when it suits them.  Folk don’t like gunfighters.  It scares them.  Being what I am, I don’t expect nothing different, it’s just the way things are.  I’m just sorry for Turner.  I don’t remember the man, but he didn’t do nothing to deserve that.  But I can’t say I’m surprised.  I’ll lay money that Val is steaming over it.”

Murdoch tilted his head to one side, a small crease between his eyes, like he was thinking over a problem.  “Does nothing ever surprise you?  The things people do to each other – it’s like you’ve seen it all before.  But then, maybe you have.”

Johnny kicked at the rug, staring into the bottom of his glass before looking at Murdoch.  “No, I guess that nothing ever does surprise me.  I think people are pretty much shit everywhere.  But sometimes you meet someone better than the rest.”  He shrugged again.  “Just the way things are.  For what it’s worth, Val’s a good man.  He’ll be a damn good sheriff, I reckon.  Seems like it’s what Green River needs.”

His father nodded.  “Yes, I have to say, he impressed me today and I think he’ll prove to be an excellent sheriff.  Like I said, Johnny, you’re a good judge of men.”  He paused briefly, looking kind of puzzled again.  “I don’t remember you saying where exactly you knew him from.”

He’d been expecting the question from the old man.  The only surprise was it had taken him so many days to think to ask it.  Johnny screwed up his eyes, like he was trying to remember, before shaking his head.  “No, I can’t remember where.  Just around.  Our paths crossed a couple of times if I remember right.  That’s all.  Just thought he was a good man and I ain’t met too many of those.”

Scott was giving him a real sharp look, like he didn’t believe a word of it, but Johnny stared right back at him, all innocent.  No way was he admitting how he’d met Val. That would be a step too far.  Never let your guard down.

Murdoch stood up, stretching his back out with a slight groan.  “I think I’m turning in.  Is there anything in the kitchen to eat or did you worm your away around Maria for some incredibly hot spicy food that nobody else can eat?”

Johnny grinned.  “See, you’re finally getting to know me!  Extra spicy tamales and beans.”

Murdoch grimaced.  “I think I’ll pass on that.  How you don’t have chronic indigestion all night after eating that, I’ll never know.  I will take my whisky to bed.  Goodnight, boys.”  He moved towards the door but he moved like he was aching real bad.

“You OK, Murdoch?  You look real sore.  Getting too old, maybe, for riding out on possees?”

Scott gave a muffled snort of laughter and Murdoch shot him a strange look. “Don’t say a word, Scott.  At least leave me the dignity of being able to leave the room first before you have a good laugh at my expense.”

Scott was laughing even more now, like he was gonna burst.  Something had happened on their trip that they hadn’t shared with him.  “Am I missing something here?”

“Scott!  Not a word...”  His father didn’t get any further ’cos Scott just had to have his say.

“Johnny, I have great delight in telling you that our esteemed father has been brawling.”  Scott snorted with laughter again and the old man looked real embarrassed.

“Brawling?”  Johnny couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the unlikely picture it conjured up.

“Yes, brawling.  Fighting.  Fisticuffs.”

Johnny gave an exasperated sigh.  “I know what brawling means, Boston.  I just can’t picture it...”  He stared at Murdoch.  “Who the hell were you brawling with?”

“Henry Carter and Matt Dixon.  You should have been there.  It was a sight to behold.”  Scott started laughing again.

Johnny fixed his father with a fierce look.  “Fighting?  Now a man your age should know better.  And they’re both smaller than you.  Didn’t your mother ever tell you to pick on people your own size?”

“He couldn’t find anyone his own size.  That’s why he took on two of them.”  Scott started laughing again just as Johnny couldn’t hold back his own laughter any longer.  Dios, he wished he’d seen it.

“I am going to bed.”  Murdoch tried to sound real offended but it didn’t quite work. 

“Old man?  What were you fighting over?”  Johnny couldn’t imagine anything that would cause this giant of a man to get so angry with people he’d known for years.

Murdoch paused in the doorway, didn’t answer for a second, like he couldn’t decide quite what to say.  “You, Johnny.”  He smiled.  “But I think I will leave Scott to fill you in on the details.  I’m sure he’s relishing the prospect.  But I think I can safely promise you that your old man won’t be doing any more fighting.  I’m getting far too old for it.  So, goodnight, boys.” 

Johnny turned to Scott, who was still smiling broadly.  “What the hell did he mean?  He was fighting over me?”

“Carter and Dixon dared to suggest that you might have had something to do with Turner’s death.  And they compounded their mistake by saying some rather unpleasant things about your character.  Murdoch did not take it well.”

Couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.  His brain felt foggy and muddled.  The old man fighting?  None of it seemed to make sense.  Why would the old man fight ’cos of what some shit ranchers had said?  Tried to speak, but the words didn’t seem to come out.  He ran his hand through his hair.  And Scott was standing there looking as happy as a dog when it makes off with the Sunday dinner.

“You ain’t kidding?  The old man really had a fistfight?”  Somehow, this didn’t seem real.  Hell, if Johnny had been fighting the old man would have given him hell.

Scott nodded.  “Yes, he really had a fistfight.  He absolutely flattened Carter, twice actually.  And then when Dixon tried to intercede, but made the mistake of saying something else about you, well, Murdoch punched him too.”

Shit.  And all because they’d made a few comments about Madrid?  Didn’t make no sense.  Scott was watching him, smiling like at some private joke.

“You don’t get it, do you?”  Scott spoke real soft.

“I guess I can’t see why he’d hit them, just ’cos they said what everyone thinks.”  Johnny shrugged.  “What people say, it don’t bother me none.  I’m used to it.”

“He was defending you.  Told them how much they all owed you for everything you’ve done since you arrived.  He told them how you’re worth more than all of them together.  I confess that I think he was going to hit Donovan, too, but I restrained him at that point.  He was going a very odd colour by then and I was a little worried about his health.  Seemed that carrying back another body would be too much to cope with!”

Johnny smiled briefly at that.  But he still couldn’t figure any of this.  “But what did Val do while all of this was going on?  I mean, he just stand there, did he and let the old man fight?”

“He stood staring at the ground with his shoulders shaking.  Poor old Val was having great trouble controlling his laughter.  And when Carter asked him to arrest Murdoch, Val just looked like he didn’t know what Carter was going on about and said that he assumed Carter must have tripped.”

The laughter was bubbling up.  Couldn’t hold it in.  “Heck, I’d love to have seen that!”  Johnny shook his head.  “But the old man had a fucking fistfight over me?”  He paused, trying to picture it.  The old man that stoked up and all because of him.  “Holy shit.”

Scott raised an eyebrow.  “Very eloquent.  You have such a colourful vocabulary.”

“Well, it is kind of a turn up, ain’t it?   I mean, the old man, fighting?”

“I think we could call today a milestone.  And I suspect he might ease up on you from now on.  He quite obviously wants you here.  Despite what you seem to think.  If only you would stop pushing him so hard, maybe things can improve.  The ridiculous thing is how alike you are and neither of you seems to realise it.”

Alike?  Him and the old man?  But then the old man was pretty good at hiding what he thought.  A bit like Madrid.  Except Madrid was better at it.  And the old man was proud.  Like Madrid.  Maybe, just maybe, old Boston had a point.  And it felt good.  Maybe life could be better.  Maybe he really could have a future here.  So long as the past didn’t come back to bite him.  He grinned across at Scott.  “Want some tamales?”

 

 

He and Scott were leaning on the corral fence watching a vaquero trying to break a sorrel mare when the ranchers rode in.  Five of them, including Donovan and Turpin.  What the fuck did they want?  Whatever it was, it was bound to spell trouble.  He wouldn’t trust ’em an inch. 

Scott raised an eyebrow as he nudged Johnny in the ribs.  “I wonder what the deputation is for?”

“Maybe they want my head.  On a platter.  Like in that bible story.”

Both of Scott’s eyebrows went up.  “You never fail to surprise me.  Where on earth did you learn about that?”

Johnny shook his head.  Dios.  How the hell could he be expected to remember that?  “Shit, Boston, that really don’t matter.  Right now I want to hear what those ranchers want.”  He turned towards the hacienda before glancing back at Scott.  “Coming?”

Scott nodded.  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

The ranchers were in the Great Room, and judging by the looks on their faces they were spoiling for trouble.  Murdoch stood at the window, and he sure didn’t look too welcoming.

“Well?  What brings you all here?  I’ve a lot to do so make it quick.”

Turpin clenched his jaw, looked real pissed off.  “We want to settle some unresolved business, Murdoch.  Fact is, someone killed Turner, and we’ve been talking it over and we all agreed that your explanation of Madrid’s whereabouts was a little too pat.  Like you had a speech all ready.  None of us would have killed him, which leaves one obvious choice.  Madrid.”  He turned, meeting Johnny’s eyes.  “So, where were you, Madrid?”

Johnny smiled coldly.  “Well, I don’t know what my old man told you, but that was the day I cut my left arm.  And Sam Jenkins stitched it up for me and he’ll vouch for me.  Unless you’re calling him a liar.”

Donovan stepped towards him.  “That don’t explain where you cut your arm.  You might have cut it fighting with Turner.  You can’t prove anything, Madrid.”

Kind of funny really.  He’d been setting Aggie Conway to say when he’d cut his arm if he ever needed it, but it seemed she’d come in useful right now.  “If you ask Mrs. Conway, she’ll tell you when I cut my arm.  She was there.  Tied something round it to stop the bleeding.  Ask her.  She’ll tell you the same.”

The other ranchers looked embarrassed now, but not Donovan.  Bit of shit.  No way was he going to back down.

“Aggie Conway.”  He sneered.  “She’s a real good friend of Murdoch.  She’ll say whatever he tells her to say.  You’re scum, Madrid, and everyone in this room knows it.”

Murdoch lurched forward, like a charging bull.  Shit!  The old man could move real fast when he had a mind to.  His fists were out and he landed a real good punch on Donovan.  “The only scum round here is you, Donovan.  How dare you come in here and make such accusations about my son.”  

Donovan reeled backwards, crashing against the bookcase.  Murdoch, breathing hard, had his fist drawn back.  He wasn’t done fighting yet.

But even as his father drew back his fist, Johnny could see Donovan pulling a gun from inside his jacket. 

The explosion from the Colt made everything in the room shake as Donovan fell back, blood pouring from the wound in his side.  Johnny kept his gun aimed at Donovan until he’d kicked the rancher’s gun clear.  Not that it looked like Donovan was going anywhere fast.  Except, maybe, to Hell.

It seemed like forever before anyone moved.  Or spoke.  Murdoch was deathly white and the other ranchers seemed rooted to the floor.  Any moment it would change and the old man would start yelling at him.  Shit.  Should have just winged the bastard.  But his instincts had taken over and now Donovan was bleeding his last all over the rug.

Turpin was the first to move, bending over Donovan, his fingers searching for some sign of life.  Donovan’s jacket splayed open and a wallet fell from the inner pocket.  Turpin examined it before turning to face them all.  “This is Turner’s wallet.  I know, he showed it to me once, it was a gift from his wife.  And now it’s in Donovan’s pocket...”

It seemed to take a second for them to figure it out.  They didn’t seem none too bright. 

Murdoch, still red and breathing heavy, glared round at them all.  “I think you all owe Johnny an apology.  If Donovan’s got Turner’s wallet, I think it proves who the guilty man is.  And it sure as hell isn’t my son.  So, get off our land.”

Shit.  ‘Our land’.  That was a first.  It was always his ranch.  His land.  Must have been a slip of the tongue.  Yeah.  Just a slip.

Turpin shuffled uncomfortably, the tips of his ears turning bright red.  “Aye, Murdoch, seems we got things wrong.  We were out of line.  I’m sorry.”  The man stared down at Donovan’s body.  “Perhaps we should return to our original arrangements over funds.  Seems like we’ve just made fools of ourselves.  And Donovan has made fools of us all.”

Murdoch turned his back to them, looking out over the ranch.  Didn’t say anything for a moment.  The big old clock by the door was ticking real loud.   How would this pan out?  “Just like that, Will?  Forget all the things you’ve said about my son? When I think how Johnny has conducted himself in the face of all this prejudice and antipathy, it has made me realise how I’ve misjudged all of you over the years and I misjudged him.  Because while you’ve all been showing your cowardice and bigotry, Johnny has behaved with dignity and restraint. ”

His blood was pulsing real fast.  Surely they could all hear his heart thumping?  Just couldn’t believe his ears.  Hell, he’d just shot a man in the Great Room, but his father didn’t seem bothered about that.

“So, quite frankly, Will, whether or not Lancer returns to the original arrangements isn’t really my decision.” He gestured toward Johnny.  “My partner calls the tune on this one.” He looked hard at Johnny.  Shit.  Was that a wink?  “In his own good time.  But for now, like I said, get off our land.”

 

 

EPILOGUE

Life did seem to be looking up.  He was going to enjoy making those ranchers sweat while Lancer pondered its decision to join forces with them again.  They would, if only because it would save the ranch money, but it wasn’t something to rush into. 

He leaned back in his chair at his usual corner table in the bordello.  Yeah.  Life really was looking up.  Delice was doing a roaring trade too, judging by the crowd in this evening.  The girls looked real pretty, their bright dresses rustling, as they moved between the tables carrying trays of drinks, hips swaying in time to the music.  Delice was moving among the customers, pausing for friendly banter with her regulars.  He’d caught her emerald-eyed gaze earlier, she’d mouthed something at him but he hadn’t a clue what.  She’d get to him eventually, pushing through the throng.  In the meantime he just enjoyed watching everyone.  A huge bearded cowhand, all muscle and brawn, being led up stairs by Susie, looked like a lamb for slaughter.  And some skinny runt who looked like a good puff of wind would knock him sideways, was hauling three girls up there.  Didn’t look like he had the energy to deal with one, yet alone three.

“Johnny.”  Delice placed a bottle of decent tequila on the table.  Not the gut rot she served to most of the customers.  “How have you been?  Arm all healed up now?”

He poured himself a large shot.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  It sure is heaving in here.  Don’t recall ever seeing it so busy.”

“They’re mainly drovers.  We’ve had a lot in here over the past few days.  I guess the fall drives are over now and quite a few drovers have been through making their way home for winter.  Their pay seems to be burning holes in their pockets.”  She shrugged.  “I’m not complaining.  It’s good business and mostly they’re good tippers so the girls are all in good moods.”

Johnny grinned.  “So long as Sadie ain’t taken and can squeeze me in.”

Delice raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching.  “In more ways than one, I take it.”

“Well, far be it from me to brag...”

Delice gave an exaggerated sort of a sigh.  “To change the subject totally, I just wanted to let you know that someone was in here in the week showing far too much interest in your whereabouts.”

Johnny sat back in his chair, every nerve suddenly on edge.  “What did he look like?  A gunhawk?”

She shook her head.  “No, he just looked like a drover.  But it seems he’d heard your name mentioned and that’s when he started asking questions.  I didn’t get the impression he was looking for you specifically when he first arrived.”

The fingers of his gun hand drummed on the table as he considered her words.  A drover.  Might not mean anything.  Lots of people were interested in Madrid.  It went with the territory.  People were excited by the thought of seeing a famous gunfighter.  Maybe seeing him in action. 

“Anything special about him?  Anything at all?”

She looked at him hard, like she could sense his unease.  “Is there something in particular you’re worried about, Johnny?”

He shrugged and laughed, real easy.  “Nope.  Just curious.  I like to know if someone’s likely to be calling me out, that’s all.”

“Like I said, he looked like a drover, not a gunfighter.  He seemed to think you were dead but had heard your name mentioned in the town and had then started asking questions.  Sadie.”  She beckoned to Sadie walking past with a tray of glasses and a bottle of Bourbon.  “That man who was asking about Johnny, do you remember anything special about him?”

Sadie placed the tray down and then leaned forward over the table to him, almost pushing her breasts in his face. 

“Sadie.”  Delice sounded kinda bored.  “Just answer the question, honey.  You can show him those later.”

Sadie screwed up her face, like she was trying to remember.  “He weren’t nothing special.  A drover, passing through.  He’d been on some big drive down south.  He was just travelling through.  Wasn’t a gunfighter or nothing.”

He pushed his glass around in neat circles, it left damp marks and his fingers of his gunhand continued to tap.  Didn’t sound like anything special.  Probably just someone who’d heard his name.

“I do remember one thing.”  Sadie beamed like she’d won a prize.  “I remember where he was going home to.”

Johnny inclined his head.  “Yeah? And just where was that, Sadie?”

“Utah.”

 

~end~

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