Thanks to Cat for the beta
Word count: 19,185
The worn, shabby wagon rattled to a halt in front of Baldamoro’s store and stopped in a cloud of heavy dust. The old priest struggled down onto the hard-packed street and smiled at the three young boys in the back of the wagon. They had ceased their chatter, knowing that Father Fernando expected them to be on their best behavior, to respect their elders and wait, as their help would soon be required.
The boys, always well mannered and polite, took this job seriously. It had long been considered an honor to help the Fathers of the orphanage with the monthly supplies. But the supply chore was special in that, not only did it have them on their best behavior, it required a strong back. Anxious to prove their hardiness, the boys obediently sat in the bed of the wagon, waiting for Father Fernando’s instructions and an opportunity to show their strength.
“Come, my children, come sit in the shade while I see to our order. It will not take long,” the kindly old man directed, and the boys jumped down to scramble onto the boardwalk and sit in the shade of the storefront overhang. The old man entered the mercantile without checking back over his shoulder, knowing the boys could be trusted to follow his instructions. If they faltered, they would not be permitted to take part in this honor for many months.
“Ah, Father Fernando! What can I get for you today?” Señor Baldamoro asked as the old priest hobbled to the counter.
“Just a few things, I am afraid. Not quite enough funds to buy for all the hungry children this time. We will make do with the vegetables from the garden, though!” the old priest replied with a smile.
Coming through the door, Johnny Lancer stopped in his tracks. He listened to the storekeeper and the priest as they discussed the list, then hung his head and closed his eyes. Memories came flooding back in a rush, and a cold knot formed in his belly. He knew what it was like to not have food, to be so hungry it felt like your belly was grinding against your backbone. He stepped out onto the porch and watched as the three young boys sat and waited for the old priest, their eyes anticipating more than what would be purchased. Perhaps a treat would be included today? But they would be disappointed.
Johnny couldn’t stand it any longer. The look in those innocent eyes, hopeful and expecting something that wouldn’t be there for them, burned into his heart with searing pain, vivid and familiar. He turned back into the store and waited.
With the scant order filled, Senor Baldamoro helped the priest load the supplies, and the young boys scrambled from their seats in the shade to help. With Johnny lending a hand, the chore was completed quickly. Soon, the wagon was rolling down the hot, dry street. It turned the corner and disappeared in a billow of dust.
Johnny stepped up to the counter, and Señor Baldamoro’s smile lit up his face.
“Johnny, Señorita Teresa’s order is ready.” Señor Baldamoro smiled as Johnny paid the bill. “Por favor, give everyone my best, and I hope Señor Murdoch is up and about very soon! How is his back?”
“Oh, he’ll be alright, thanks for askin’, Señor. Just takin’ it easy. Sam wants ta make sure it’s healed up the right way before he wrenches it outta place again!” The blue eyes sparkled with a chuckle.
Johnny’s smile always brightened Señor Balamero’s day. Since this man returned to Lancer, there weren’t many in town that regretted his coming home. He was a pleasure to see, and Señor Baldamero knew Murdoch Lancer was very proud of the sons he had sired.
“Did you forget something, Juanito?” he asked, surprised to see Johnny hesitating at the counter.
When Johnny spoke, his words were soft, and the storekeeper could hear the anxiety laced through them.
Johnny looked down at the packages he held then met the Señor’s eyes. “No… no, I didn’t forget anything. Just thought of something more, though. Heard the Father say there wasn’t enough ta buy what they needed,” and the storekeeper nodded. “What do they need? Ya got any idea?”
The storekeeper’s smile stretched deeper. He had a feeling of what was about to happen. He knew the benevolence that resided in the heart of this young man.
He rattled off a few items that he knew had not been purchased but were needed. Johnny heard the Father talk of the lack of funds and knew the orphans would go without. Baldomero could see the empathy in the deep blue eyes and respect for this young man kept growing with every act of charity. And there had been many.
“Tell ya what, Señor.” Throwing a twenty-dollar gold piece on the counter, Johnny continued, “ Would you have whatever this will buy delivered out ta the orphanage an’ don’t say who sent it, por favor? Just a friend. An’ here,” Johnny threw another two dollars out, “An’ whatever this’ll cover for some candy. Just as long as they all get somethin’. Gracias, Señor. Ah, can I leave these packages here for a while? I’ll be back to pick them up.”
“Sí, Juanito, I will keep them safe!” Baldomero replied, still grinning.
“Gracias, Señor, gracias.” Johnny took a deep breath. He needed a drink.
As he left the store, he could still see hopeful stares of the boys, and he couldn’t shake the memories that threatened to pull him under. Turning the corner, he retrieved Barranca, and with a graceful vault, he sat in the saddle and headed for The Angels Nest.
Seated in the back at his usual table, Johnny slumped in his chair, drinking a beer, then ordered a refill, and he began to relax. He leaned forward, elbows on the scarred and scuffed tabletop, and rubbed his eyes with his gloved hands, trying to make the images of those little faces go away. They were so familiar, and they haunted his thoughts.
“You alright, amigo?” Sheriff Val Crawford pulled out a chair and plunked down into it without asking permission to join Johnny at his table or wait for an invitation. He signaled for a beer from the bartender.
“Yeah, just tired’s all. Up mosta the night with that mare that’s about ta foal, but Murdoch and T’resa needed things from town.” Johnny indulged in a stretch and a jaw-cracking yawn. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment before he sat up straight and, again, leaned elbows on the table.
“How many kids they got out at the orphanage now, Val? Got any idea?” Johnny asked.
“’Bout twenty-six or seven. Why ya askin’?”
“Ol’ Father Fernando was just in ta Baldamoro’s an’ said there ain’t enough money ta buy what they need. Too many ta feed.”
“Yeah, that fever a coupla months ago has that place pretty full,” Val stated, looking down into his beer. “I know that look. Whatcha thinkin’, amigo?” Val asked with a smile, an idea of what was going through his friend’s mind.
“Anything goin’ on around here? Anything ya gotta take care of?” Johnny looked up into Val’s eyes and smiled as the sheriff shook his head no.
“You up for a little huntin’ trip?”
“Sounds kinda nice, real relaxin’, too. Where?”
“Don’t matter, long as there’s somethin’ we can bring back that’ll feed those kids.”
“When ya thinkin’ on leavin’, Johnny?”
“Dunno. Haven’t run it by Murdoch yet. He might nix the whole thing.” But Johnny knew that Murdoch had a soft spot for the orphans, and he’d probably be for the idea, especially after Johnny informed him of the lack of funds that had to be stretched just to cover the bare essentials. It was worth a shot.
“I’ll be back tomorrow an’ let ya know what the ol’ man says.” Johnny finished off the beer in two large gulps and pushed to his feet. He clamped a hand on Val’s shoulder as he walked past.
“Oh, an’ Val, stay outta trouble, will ya?” Johnny needled.
“You just get on home before I lock ya up for disturbin’ the peace, ya rowdy!”
Johnny stopped at the door to check the street, an old habit from the gunfighting days. Seeing and sensing no danger, he stepped out onto the boardwalk, climbed into the saddle, turned Barranca toward Baldomero’s and picked up the supplies, then headed toward Lancer.
Pulling the saddle from Barranca’s back, Johnny settled it on the rack, then brushed the palomino until he glowed. Reaching into his pocket, he gave the horse his carrot, checked on the mare and, satisfied she was doing alright, he headed into the house. Arriving a little early for dinner, he dashed up the stairs three at a time, got clean clothes, then left for the bathhouse. A good soak in a hot bath would ease the knots forming in Johnny’s back.
*****
“Hey, querida, what’s for dinner?” Johnny asked as he entered the kitchen, sniffing the mouth-watering aromas wafting through the air. “Sure smells good!” He winked at her then planted a kiss in the center of her forehead. Teresa brushed a strand of hair out of her face as she looked up at her brother.
“Beef and chilies with fresh tortillas, and we made tamales! Maria and I worked on this all day!” she said with a big smile. It was Johnny’s favorite meal. Maria continued to dote on him, spoiling him excessively. His grin was worth every bit of trouble the meal was to prepare. And add to that grin, the sparkle of the deep blue eyes that had charmed many a lady, young and old, as they danced and teased was irresistible. He reached out and snitched a piece of beef from the platter.
“It is ready, Juanito, go sit!” Maria chastised.
Johnny skirted the wooden spoon that appeared from nowhere to swat his pilfering fingers. His dance out of the kitchen was met with a ‘no, I don’t want to know what he was up to’ look from his father as Murdoch stiffly eased into his chair at the head of the table. The patriarch decided that bed was not where he would eat another meal and joined his sons and ward at the dinner table. Scott entered the room and took his seat. Now that all were present and accounted for, they began to dine in good company, thankful that Murdoch was able to join them.
“Johnny, we didn’t have to wait for you tonight! Is everything alright?” Scott deadpanned. Murdoch had little tolerance for the tardiness, preferring the family to take the evening meal together. Though Johnny’s casual regard for strict schedules needed more work, he was better than he was in their beginning as a family.
Johnny looked at his brother and winked at Teresa. “Yeah, everything’s alright, Boston. Oh, by the way, Heather Peterson asked me ta give ya her best an’ I said I would, but her brother wants ta talk to ya.”
Heather Peterson was a sweet young thing that Scott had been attempting to woo for months. She had large blue eyes and the smile of an angel. She also had the biggest, meanest, most protective older brother that any parent could wish for, and the fact that Johnny intercepted the message with the brother listening, made Scott want to leave the state for a few months.
Murdoch held his laughter in check as he listened to his boys’ verbal sparring contest.
“Thank you, I think…” Scott muttered into the napkin that he’d brought to his mouth in hopes of squelching a groan before it could escape his throat.
“You’re welcome, Boston, anytime!” Johnny replied enthusiastically.
Murdoch smiled, outwardly this time, and enjoyed the banter between his two sons. He still found it hard to believe that, not only were they both home, but the fact that they bonded as brothers who had known each other all of their lives continued to amaze and delight him.
The meal progressed with the usual conversations, questions, and laughter. Johnny secretly observed their father and thought Murdoch was in a reasonable frame of mind, so he broached the subject of the hunting trip. And Johnny had been right.
After telling Murdoch about Father Fernando’s lack of funds for the supplies to support the increased number orphans, he wholeheartedly agreed the hunting trip was an excellent idea and offered, too, a donation to the mission orphanage. Teresa volunteered to set up a bake sale at the church with all proceeds going to buy things for the orphans and any leftover baked goods to be taken to the orphanage for the children as special treats.
“Scott, why don’t you talk to Father Fernando and see what they need as far as other supplies or repairs? Then maybe check with some of the other ranchers and see what they could contribute? If not materials or donations, maybe physical help for repairs. Your organizing skills will be put to some good use!” Murdoch suggested.
Johnny sat back in his chair, amazed at what could be set into motion with one family to spur things on, just a little nudge, and with others to pitch in, the issues regarding shortages and repairs for the orphanage would soon be solved. And just perhaps, if not dispel the memory of the disappointed faces altogether, to help them fade, replaced bright smiles and giggles and laughs. And full bellies.
*****
Plans for the hunting trip were made. Johnny and Val would leave in two days. Having decided on a route through the northern mountains, they scheduled drop-offs where someone would be waiting with fresh pack horses that Johnny and Val would take and exchange the horses loaded with the meat from the kills they’d made. The meat would be taken into town and processed for the mission to use throughout the upcoming winter. Johnny never wanted to see the hungry looks in the eyes of those kids again. No child should feel that pain and Johnny knew first hand what that pain was. He had felt it many times in his young life.
Doing all the last minute chores at the ranch took up most of the time left, ensuring that Johnny was tired before he got started. The mare had finally foaled, and the colt was healthy, much to the relief of everyone involved. He was named Chance as there had been a strong possibility that he wouldn’t make it, but due to Johnny’s devoted attention, the tiny horse grabbed the opportunity that was offered and ran with it. He had taken his chance.
*****
The early morning was chilly as Johnny led the pack horses under the Lancer arch where Val was waiting. They wanted to make as many miles as they could today in hopes of hunting in the morning. Val was ready and waiting as Johnny rode up, then the two men were off. They made good time, and by noon, they were further into the mountains than they had anticipated. After taking a short rest and dining on the variety of food sent by Maria, they started again and began the task of watching for signs of their quarry.
The day was losing light; dusk was well on its way when they found a suitable campsite and unloaded the horses. With a fire warding off the night-time chill, they dined on tasty sandwiches packed for them from the Lancer kitchen, but with this meal, Johnny produced a bottle of tequila from his saddlebags. He took a healthy swallow and passed the bottle to Val. The sun had set with spectacular colors staining the sky in vibrant hues of yellows, oranges, and reds. The air was crisp, but the temperatures were dropping. Game would be coming down from the higher elevations as the days cooled. The moon rose from behind the mountains, and the old man up there seemed to enjoy their company, smiling at their every word.
“I got me a letter from Sheriff Philips in Modesto the other day. He spotted some… how would ol’ Scott say it? Some unsavory lookin’ yahoos driftin’ through. Couldn’t find nothin’ on ‘em but passed along the warnin’ to be on the lookout. So far, they didn’t do nothin’, but he’s gonna be watchin’.”
“Yeah, it’s been kinda quiet around here. Guess we’re due for somethin’,” Johnny sighed.
“Ain’t had nothin’ happen since them two pendejos tried ta rob the Widow Hargis!”
Johnny couldn’t help the laughter that followed. Euleleah Hargis was not one to sit back and cower. She wielded her broom with deadly accuracy (either end, bristles, or handle) and convinced the duo they’d made a horrible mistake as she reduced them to quivering masses of flesh as they begged for her forgiveness.
“Hey, Val, maybe ya oughta deputize her. No one in their right mind’d try anything with the Widow on duty!” Johnny’s eyes danced with the thought. “Hell, they’d be writing one a them dime novels about her! I can see it now, ‘The Widow with the Deadly Broom’!”
Val laughed. The two men kept the banter going, joking about the fact that Green River was safe under the watchful eye of the feisty, broom wielding Widow.
“Well, ya need any help, Val, just say the word. Me an’ Scott an’, hell, all the boys in the bunkhouse’ll be there.”
“Thanks, amigo. I ‘ppreciate that!” Val smiled, thankful as ever, for the backup.
“Let’s get some sleep, Val, so I can outshoot ya tamorrow.” Johnny pulled his blanket around him, blocking out the snort of disbelief from the Green River sheriff.
*****
Morning broke over the mountains, and a new day began in spectacular fashion. The sky was clear, the air was fresh and crisp, and there would be no rain. Johnny sent up a prayer of thanks that Maria sent enough food, and there was no need to hunt for their breakfast.
Now, with food in their bellies, they set off in search of game. They’d seen fresh signs that elk had been around, and they started in their pursuit of the animals. Tracking the elk had not been difficult. The deep hoof prints in the soft pine needles and moss-covered ground marked the direction plainly as if there had been a big, brightly painted sign complete with an arrow pointing the way. Finding the elk was the easy part, but the ability to not spook them was what divided the men from the boys.
Keeping downwind of the herd, they were able to get close. The elk grazed in a small valley complete with a meandering stream and fringed with Ponderosa Pines. The valley was picturesque and peaceful, Johnny hated to disturb the tranquility and silence of it all. Then the little faces, sad and filled with disappointment, crowded his brain.
Hunkered down behind brush and rocks, Johnny and Val were out of sight, and the large beasts grazed in contentment, unaware that in a short time, they would be the main focus on a dinner table. Both Johnny and Val raised their rifles and took aim. They each shot twice, and when the herd stampeded out of the valley, four elk were lying in the grass.
“O.K., amigo, let’s get ta work.” Val got up from his cover, with Johnny close behind, they went down to the valley floor to begin the gory task of gutting and butchering the animals.
They hoisted the meat up in the trees. Bears and other carnivores took advantage of such a stash, but now the feast was out of reach. Butchering took the rest of the day, and at dusk, a very tired pair of hunters started a fire, cooked a couple of steaks, and settled down for the night. Again the bottle of tequila made an appearance, soon, both Johnny and Val were laughing about the old days, slurring their words and laughing out of control.
“Well, did ya know she was that old?” Val asked, not quite believing what Johnny had told him.
“Hell, yeah, I knew she was old, well, maybe not that old but, shit, she was pretty for bein’ that old. Where’s the bottle, V-Val?” Johnny asked, accented with a belch.
“What the fuck, Johnny! Ya didn’t l-lose ,” belch, “oops, it, did’ya?” Val was horrified. And so the evening progressed, one story outdoing the last and in the end, both men mumbled their ‘g’nights’ and fell asleep drooling on their blankets.
Morning dawned chilly but bright, and although both Johnny and Val suffered hangovers, they were anxious to start hunting again. Neither ate much for breakfast, and each pulled their hat down low to block out the bright sunlight that continued to mock them throughout the morning.
Val missed his first shot, which made Johnny snort through his nose, putting Val in a mood for the next hour. After trailing the mule deer into late morning, Johnny hunkered down behind a rock and squeezed off a round, dropping the large buck with one clean shot. A grin split his face as he gave Val that ‘I got mine an’ you didn’t’ look, to which Val promptly told him: “Fuck you, Johnny,” and Johnny burst out laughing, then groaned and held his head.
The next morning they were to meet with Cipriano to get fresh pack horses and send back the game they’d shot. Right on schedule, Cipriano waited at the designated spot, and with a quick greeting and a question about how Murdoch was doing, they parted company. Then, Johnny and Val headed further into the mountains.
*****
The five men rode into town without raising much suspicion. They were quiet and orderly, but this was their plan, and they stuck with it. Knowing Sheriff Crawford was the law in Green River, they would have to play their cards right if they were to take Madrid and hightail it out of town.
They stopped in front of the saloon and tied their horses, then pushed through the batwing doors. Surveying the dark, smoky room, they took a table to the side and ordered beers to cut the dust in their throats, relaxing to get the ‘lay of the land’. The working girls were pretty, and the beer was cold, but those two things could not distract them from their duty. People came and went; they consumed more beer, and still, they were no closer to their target.
“Evan, how long are we gonna just sit here? We’re wastin’ time!” Lane Ross whined. Nick Richards wanted the kid broken into Evan’s methods. Start the younger help out right. They’ll follow your orders and won’t buck when the going gets rough. Evan Adams would see to it. “You heard what Mr. Richards wanted us ta do!”
“I know what he wants an’ we’re gonna get it done, just shut up b’fore someone hears you, ya idiot!” Adams hissed through his teeth. Evan Adams was a huge man with a mean streak in him as wide as the Missouri River and as wide as that mean streak was, there was a sadistic streak, too, only it was a little bigger.
“We been at this a long time; bein’ this close is no time ta get careless. So ya’ll let me do the talkin’, ya hear?” They nodded in agreement with Adams’ decision, but none would dare go against the man, regardless of what they thought.
Joe Edwards, the oldest of the five, mulled over the situation. From the beginning, he was concerned with their job. He had no desire to drag Johnny Madrid back to New Mexico, no matter who paid his wages. It was a dangerous undertaking and one that Joe was sure that Madrid didn’t deserve. Getting Madrid out of the valley wouldn’t be easy. The man was now settled and well-liked. People would know something wasn’t right very soon, and Joe, for one, didn’t want any trouble. And the more he thought about the situation, the more he didn’t want to be here doing this… ‘relocation’, as Nick Richards referred to it.
“Evan,” Joe started quietly, “How’re we gonna get him outta town? He’s gonna be missed right quick,” he whispered.
“Do I have ta do all the thinkin’? Just sit tight.” Evan left his seat and sauntered up to the bar just as Billy, the telegraph operator, came in.
“Hey, Henry, you see them pack horses loaded with meat that Val an’ Johnny got? Boy, oh, boy, that’ll feed a buncha hungry mouths! I swear those horses were walking on bowed legs they’re carryin’ so much meat!” Henry slid the foamy glass to the agent as Billy pulled at his shaggy mustache. Taking the first several swallows, he set the mug back on the bar. His disheveled handle-bar was covered with foam and dripped on the polished top. Evan ventured into small talk.
“Hey, what’s all the excitement in town? Seems everyone buzzin’ ‘bout some elk that was shot.”
“Yeah, there was a fever coupla months back, a bad one, and it made a buncha orphans. There ain’t much money ta feed all them hungry kids, so our sheriff, Val Crawford an’ Johnny Lancer are huntin’ ta bring meat in for ‘em. Doin’ real good, too! They’re still up there an’ someone’s goin’ up ta meet ‘em an’ bring the meat down then leave ‘em with fresh pack horses.”
“Sounds like some real nice fellers, yes, they do!” Evan joined in commending two such stellar and benevolent citizens.
“Yeah, they’re both mighty fine young men. Proud ta know ‘em an’ call ‘em friend.” Billy looked like he was going to bust his buttons with pride, and Henry stood with a grin that extended ear to ear.
“We’ll have another round over at our table, then, an’ thanks,” Evan said with a smile. He returned to the table and very calmly picked up his beer. The others stared at him, waiting.
“Nuthin’ ta worry ‘bout, boys, nuthin’ ta worry ‘bout.”
Maggie Hill had worked at The Angels Nest for several years, and after that amount of time, she began to develop a sixth sense for peculiar behavior or potential danger. And these five scruffy, dirty men had peculiar and danger written all over them. So she made it her business to find out if something wasn’t as it should be. The people in this town were good, honest, and dear to her, and if she could help avoid trouble, she made it her duty to do so.
Maggie sidled up between Evan and Nate, draping an arm over each set of dirty, broad shoulders and fixed the prettiest smile she could manage across her painted red mouth. With her auburn hair piled high and green eyes sparkling with mischief, who wouldn’t want to share a drink with her?
“Well, hello, boys! You all are new here aren’t you?” she spoke in her softest, most breathy voice she could muster. She looked each one in the eyes. “Anything I can get you boys?”
“No, thanks, Miss. We was just ‘bout ta leave,” Evan spoke before any of the others could put a delay in their mission. There was no time to tangle with this little filly.
“Oh, come on, now!” she pouted, “I was hoping to get to know y’all a little better. How about one more little drink?” And she batted her eyes at them all. “Just one more?” and she was off to the bar to get them a refill. She returned with the full tray and sat at the table with them, discreetly watching for signs that might spell trouble. She noted the body language was tense, and their eyes darted, then suddenly downcast. They immediately clammed up; no one had any words, and Maggie knew then something was going on and wanted to find out what it was.
“Well, I am sorry, gentlemen, I didn’t mean to break up your party. I guess I’ll leave you now,” and with that, she left the table. She left the table, but not out of earshot.
“We leave now!” Evan hissed. “We have to follow the pack horses an’ be there ta get those two while they’re still huntin’!”
They left the saloon, and Maggie felt her belly flip.
*****
“Think we got ‘nough meat for them young’uns?” Val asked as he checked his gun over, making sure it was clean, oiled, and loaded.
“Not if they eat like you do…” Johnny replied with a big smile. “The way you eat, you should weigh as much as ol lady Carlson! Why, ya shouldn’t be able ta get on your horse! Never seen anyone put away so much apple pie in one meal like ya did last week at the hotel dining room. Bet ya never noticed that ol’ Clem an’ Henry was makin’ bets if ya could finish all that ya ordered, did’ya?”
“Shut up, Johnny! Just shut up!” Embarrassed that someone took note of his gluttony, Val finished wiping down his rifle and mounted his horse.
“Wanna get an elk ta take back ta Lancer, that way ya can pile your plate high when ya eat with us cuz there’ll be plenty! An’ we’ll be the only ones ta see ya.” Johnny swung up into the saddle, and they were up the trail before Val could comment on his last sarcastic remark.
*****
Scott straightened up to wipe the sweat from his brow and stepped to his horse. He retrieved the canteen hanging from the saddle horn, took a long, refreshing drink, and felt the water trickle down into his gut. Spilling half the contents over his head and down his neck, he shook like a dog, flinging water in every direction and mussing his normally well-combed hair. Mending fences was definitely not his idea of a good time.
Hunting was, though. He wondered how Johnny and Val were doing. The hunting trip was a nice gesture, and Scott smiled as he thought about his brother, the hardened, calculating Johnny Madrid, with a heart of gold. And Scott was proud but not surprised. Johnny had spent time in an orphanage and knew firsthand of the hardships and heartbreaks suffered in those places. His tough, unyielding gunfighter little brother had a soft spot in his heart for those kids.
Scott thought about the enigma that was Johnny, and lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the hoof beats until they were nearly on him. He started at the closeness when the rider spoke. Jeb Stevens reined his horse to a stop beside Scott and handed him a note. Scott took it and looked at Jeb with questions in his eyes.
“Hi, Scott. This is from Maggie at The Angels Nest. She asked me ta ride out here an’ see that you got it right away. How’s Murdoch doin’?”
“Oh, he’s making progress, slowly but progress none the less. Thanks for asking. Tell Martha hello for me.” And Jeb rode off, leaving Scott wondering why Maggie would be sending him a note. One way to find out… He ripped the envelope open and read, his eyes darkening as he did. He folded the missive, and with one thought in mind, he vaulted onto Remmie’s back and rode into town.
Pushing through the batwing doors, Scott spotted Maggie almost immediately and met her at a table in the corner.
“Maggie, when did all this happen?” concern filled his face.
“Yesterday. Scott, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t really hear anything other than one of them said ‘they had to leave now, that they had to follow the packhorse and be there to get those two while they’re still hunting.’ They never mentioned any names. But I don’t know of anyone else that they could have been talking about. When I brought them another round of beers, they all stopped talking and acted suspicious, like they didn’t want me to hear what they were saying. I’ll feel really foolish if this is nothing but, I gotta tell you, Scott, something’s not right.” Maggie looked into Scott’s face, and her green eyes were full of worry.
“What did they look like, Maggie? Did you recognize any of them?”
“No, never saw them before. Nothing unusual about them except they all looked like they’d come a long way—typical ranch hands. There are five of them, all different ages. Scott, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Yes, so do I. Thanks, Maggie. You did the right thing.”
*****
“I been thinkin’ ‘bout this an’ with us five an’ them bein’ only two, we shouldn’t have no trouble with ‘em,” Lane Ross spoke around a mouthful of chewing tobacco and spat a stream of juice off to the side of his horse to drip off the leaves of a small oak tree.
“Don’t sell ‘em short, Lane, they’re both good shots,” Evan replied. “Nobody ever outshot Madrid.”
“Yeah, just ask Dan,” Mace Carter offered.
“But we’ll be needin’ ta make some plans ‘bout how we’re gonna take Madrid, and what’re we gonna do ‘bout Crawford?” the youngster said around the mouthful of tobacco.
“What about ‘im?” Carter asked.
Joe looked puzzled, “Well, I ain’t in no hurry ta shoot ‘im. He’s a lawman! Can’t just put a bullet in ‘im…”
“We can’t let ‘im see us take Madrid either. Gotta get rid of ‘im…” answered Mace. They rode in silence, each with his own thoughts about what to do with Sheriff Val Crawford.
*****
Johnny and Val tied the horses, stripped the saddles, and brushed the animals down, then fed and watered them. Johnny built a fire as Val cut meat and laid it in a pan over the flames. Soon the sizzle of fresh steaks seemed to pull their thoughts to the fire. The coffee was hot and strong, and a full belly would shortly follow. Johnny thought about breaking out the bottle of tequila but decided against it. One headache on this trip would be enough without tempting fate. Best be satisfied with coffee tonight.
They relaxed by the fire and let it soothe the exhaustion out of their carcasses. A full belly and hot coffee, fresh air, and a big star-filled sky, can’t do any better than that. And tomorrow, take another fat elk, then head back to Lancer. Johnny thought that sleep in a bed would be a welcome change, too. But he would miss this… freedom. He had come far in these three short years, but times like this, the freedom still called his name.
Morning came with a burst of sun and cold temperatures. With a cup of hot coffee in hand, Johnny watched over the ridge for Cipriano to come one last time. He would meet them this morning with a fresh packhorse and after a few hours of hunting, they would return to Lancer, and then back to the routine of ranching. There was good and bad regarding a working ranch. The routine part bored Johnny, and he continued to struggle with the discipline, but it was worth all the restrictions to have a family. He’d never had that before, and it felt good. There were people that cared about him, loved him, and he grew to love them… And it was good. It took him a while to realize that.
Movement caught his eye as Cipriano slipped over the ridge and started down to the little valley into the warmth of the valley floor. Cipriano gladly accepted the hot coffee shoved into his hand and stood drinking the dark brew.
“You will fill many empty bellies this winter. The old Priest has said many prayers for you two for your kindness and your safe return,” Cip passed along the compliment.
“Hell, it’ll take more’n a coupla prayers for this rowdy,” Val tipped his head in Johnny’s direction and received a laugh from Cip.
“Aw, Val, you’re just pissed ‘cause I outshot you on this trip. Face it, I got a better eye…” And with a huge smile, Johnny went about the business of breaking camp.
“I will take this meat back to town and tell the Patrón that you will be home soon. Vaya con Dios, Juanito, Señor Val!” and Cipriano started back the way he came.
*****
“Let him get a coupla a miles out b’fore we take them,” Evan said as he watched Cip widening the distance between himself and Johnny and Val. “We don’t want him doubling back an’ interferin’. I want this ta go nice an’ quiet,” Evan was hoping on a smooth trip home, but New Mexico was a long way to go. There was plenty of time for things to go wrong, especially dealin’ with Madrid, he thought.
*****
“They must be looking for Madrid…” Murdoch’s eyes narrowed in anger as he spoke. “It doesn’t sound like anyone from around here. Alright, take Cipriano and Walt with you. They’re the two best trackers we have, and Cipriano knows the mountains up there. He just returned from bringing in more game. Go as soon as you’ve got what you need. And bring him home, Scott, bring him home.” Murdoch turned to hide the fear in his eyes, turned from Scott, but Scott knew, he felt it, too.
*****
Johnny pulled Barranca’s reins as Val came alongside.
“Ya ready ta stop, amigo?” Val asked as they came to a clearing that looked like a promising hunting spot.
“Yeah, maybe we’ll get lucky first thing an’ won’t hafta take all day…”
“Thought you liked huntin’? Ya wanna get back to doin’ chores so soon?” Val couldn’t believe he was hearing what he thought he was hearing.
Johnny just rolled his eyes.
“Let’s leave the horses here and find a good spot ta sit an’ wait,” Johnny said as he slid off of Barranca’s back. They left their mounts to graze, then walked a short way around the clearing, found their spot, and settled in to wait. A short time later, a herd of elk wandered out of the trees across the clearing to graze. Johnny and Val just watched for a minute enjoying the peace and tranquility, then suddenly the herd bolted and was gone. Then they heard it, heard it at the same time. They weren’t alone.
“Madrid! Throw down your guns, you, too, Crawford! Nice an’ easy! Do it now! Ya ain’t gettin’ a second chance!”
“Ya recognize them?” Johnny quietly asked Val.
“Nope.”
A shot hit the ground to the right then just as quickly to the left of them.
“I said, NOW!”
Still, Johnny hesitated, and a third shot hit next to his boot. His eyes met Val’s.
“Looks like we got no choice, amigo.” Val threw his weapons on the ground, and reluctantly, Johnny did the same. Five men emerged from the brush, all armed with guns aimed at their hearts.
“Well, we had a helluva time findin’ ya, Madrid,” Evan said with a smug, evil grin.
“Don’t go by Madrid any more,” Johnny said, hoping to delay long enough to figure out a plan of action.
“Ya did an’ that’s why yer goin’ with us.”
“For what?”
“The murder of Dan Richards, you back shooter.” Again, Evan smiled.
“I didn’t shoot him. It don’t surprise me he’s dead, knowin’ what a kind an’ upstandin’ man he was an’ all. He was alive last I saw him an’ I ain’t no back shooter.” Johnny stated calmly, too calmly for Mace Carter.
“An’ ya could be lyin’,” Evan countered.
“Yeah, I could be,” Johnny said with total control in his quiet voice, and then the smile disappeared from his face. ”But, I ain’t.” The cold, deep blue stare pierced straight through Evan Adams, and he shook himself loose of the icy grip.
“Well, ya can tell that ta Mr. Nick Richards. We got orders ta take ya back ta New Mexico.”
“What makes ya think I killed Dan? God knows he made enough enemies. Bet there’s a lotta men that wanted the bastard dead,” Johnny said, trying to piece together what had happened after the range war he’d been in over four years ago.
“Got a witness.”
“Witness, huh? One a you low-lifes?” Johnny said as he turned to face them, looking each one in the eye. The scruffy bunch turned away as he stared them down. Mace Carter turned his fiercest look, meaning to intimidate Johnny, but Johnny laughed in his face, undermining the gesture. Mace, embarrassed, lunged for him but caught Johnny’s fist on his jaw and staggered backward.
Val stepped forward. “You boys go back ta where ya crawled out from, ya ain’t takin’ Johnny anywhere!” He pulled his jacket aside to expose the sheriff’s star pinned to his shirt. “Now GIT!” he repeated.
“We ain’t got no quarrel with ya, Sheriff. Just him,” Adams pointed a crooked finger at Johnny and smiled wickedly.
“Guess ya didn’t hear me. I SAID, GIT! NOW!” His patience was wearing thin, and he’d had about all he was going to take from these idiots.
“That’s mighty big talk from a man with no gun,” Evan continued the verbal sparring.
Mace, watching Johnny, felt it in his gut. Fear. Madrid’s eyes were glacial, and in them was danger, a threat. Mace Carter looked away, breaking the direct path to Hell he saw in those freezing depths, as a chill crawled down his spine.
“You fellas leave now an’ we’ll forget all about this.” Val thought maybe there would be a way out with no shots fired.
“We ain’t leaving without Madrid!” Evan raised his voice to maintain control.
Val took a step toward Evan, and suddenly a shot echoed out. A hole appeared on Val’s shirt, and he crumpled to the ground. Mace Carter stood there holding a smoking pistol. Johnny quickly moved to go to Val but was grabbed and held firm. The five men then witnessed the terrifying transformation. A visible, physical change shadowed Johnny. In front of their eyes, Madrid appeared, and if they were honest about it, they were all scared to their core, and each would have sworn they were looking at their own death.
“Ya wanted Madrid, now ya got him an’ ya better be ready ta handle it… Cuz, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ya.” His voice quiet and deadly as he looked Mace square on, then Evan. Johnny broke loose of his guards and knelt beside Val. A rifle stock connected with his head as white explosions erupted inside his skull, then it all went black.
*****
They rode north, guided by Cipriano along the route that he took to meet Johnny and Val with the pack horses. The campsite was up ahead, but bypassing it, Cip followed the fresh tracks that brought them to the place Johhny and Val stopped to hunt.
Dismounting, they led their horses, making little noise. Scott, Cip, and Walt stopped to peer around rocks and brush and hoped to find a few answers to the questions that burned in their brains ever since leaving Lancer. But the scene before them was horrific, and it terrified them. Val lay faceup, sprawled in the cold grass, blood staining the front of his shirt, and there was no sign of Johnny.
Scott ran to the sheriff’s side. Squatting down, he put fingers to Val’s neck, desperately trying to find a pulse. It was there but incredibly weak. Scott opened the front on Val’s shirt and checked the wound. It was severe, he needed help, and the clock was ticking. Critical seconds were slipping by. Running back to his horse, Scott collected medical supplies from his saddlebags and started to pack the wound and staunch the blood flow long enough to get Val back to town. He worked quickly and kept watch for any signs the man would regain consciousness, hoping Val would rouse enough to tell them something, anything about Johnny. Val coughed and grimaced, but no blood coated his mouth or lips, a good sign. His eyes fluttered open, pain-glazed but focused on Scott.
“…got ‘im, S-Scott, took ‘im…” Val moaned pitifully.
“Val? Did you hear where they took Johnny?”
“New Mex-ico, Nick R-Richards… five men. Find Johnny, go get ‘im, Scott, go…” and Val lost consciousness. Stabilizing the man as best they could, they loaded him on his horse, and Walt started back to Green River with the sheriff in tow. If Val didn’t get help very soon, he wasn’t going to make it. Scott and Cip headed back to Lancer to prepare for a visit to New Mexico and a date with one Nick Richards.
*****
Three miles away from Lancer, Scott and Cip topped a rise and saw Barranca headed toward the ranch. Still saddled, with broken reins floating out behind, he ran fast and steady, indeed a beautiful sight. The only thing that would have made it better was if Johnny had been riding him. But it confirmed that Johnny had been taken, and it sat cold and hard in Scott’s belly. Having Barranca along would mean taking a chance that someone would remember the flashy palomino. These men wanted to travel quickly, attracting no attention.
They made Lancer in record time, stopping only long enough to get fresh mounts and to fill Murdoch in regarding what they had found. They would ride to New Mexico, stopping at towns along the way, and send Murdoch wire of their progress and any word Murdoch would be able to pass along to them.
Murdoch, in the meantime, headed into Green River to be there when Val regained consciousness; he wanted to question him about Nick Richards. The more information he had, the better they could make their plan. He needed something to give to Scott and Cipriano, and time was of the essence. The sickening feeling in the pit of his belly filled Murdoch with dread. Someone from the past had taken Johnny against his will, but Scott and Cip would get him back… alive. Maybe all the socializing with governors and senators would pay off and aid Murdoch in their search for Johnny. It was time to call in some favors.
*****
“He’s been out for hours! What’d ya hit ‘im so hard for, Mace?” Nate was worried; he worried about this job for the boss from the minute he’d found out what Nick Richards ordered them to do.
Mace sighed, proud he rendered the infamous Johnny Madrid unconscious. “He ain’t givin’ us no problem, is he?”
“Sure wouldn’t wanna be you when he comes to…” Nate said, shaking his head.
Mace’s stomach flipped over. He hadn’t thought of that. He’d have to face Madrid, with Madrid knowing that he shot Val and then knocked him out. Yup, he was scared again.
Evan reined his horse to a stop. “We’ll hold up here for a while. Get what sleep ya can. We’re up at dawn, and then we’re ridin’ hard ta make some time. The faster we get ta New Mexico, the faster this whole thing’ll be over.”
They made camp with no fire. Evan hauled Johnny off the packhorse and tied him to a tree; his arms were pulled tight behind him. His head hung limp between his shoulders as blood oozed down his face in a slow, thick drip. He faked the insensate state for some time now, and he had learned a lot, forcing himself to remain quiet and still, while skull shattering pain ripped through his brain; it was near unbearable, but in the end, it would be worth it.
The guise of unconsciousness awarded him with information he hadn’t known before. But there were still unanswered questions, and worst of all, Val was dead. The thought of going on without Val was impossible, more than he could handle. It was as if Scott had died. Val had been like a brother to Johnny before Johnny knew he had a brother. Val was his family, the only other person Johnny knew he could count on, would trust with his life, and now he was gone. Because of him, because of who he was and maybe, still is. His grief fueled his rage, his hate for those who had taken his brother, blood or not, boiled within him. Five men now had death marking them. Johnny would make sure they would pay. For Val.
He tried to remember, but it hurt to think. His head was spinning to the point of turning his belly inside out, his stomach rolled, wanting to relieve itself of the acid building inside, but he forced it down, not wanting to alert them that he was awake. So he waited and tried desperately to remember what he could.
Dan Richards had been a beast of a man, no, man wasn’t quite the right word. He’d been like a large, bullying boy, always forcing his towering presence on those who would cave under his will and those who didn’t bend, he destroyed. But there was one who didn’t fold under Dan’s abuse, who had always succeeded in making Dan feel inferior, made him feel… stupid. And Dan wanted him dead, except Johnny Madrid wasn’t easy to kill as he’d found out, the hard way.
But there was someone else that had gotten in the way. Lorna. Dan and Nick Richards’ younger sister. Lorna had fallen for Johnny, fallen hard. And she’d gotten in the way. Nick had hired Johnny to help fight the range war. Johnny had long made it his practice not to get involved with the boss’s daughter, or sister and Lorna made it very difficult indeed. She was young, spirited, and incredibly beautiful. Her long brown hair hung in a thick mass around her shoulders, and bright green eyes glittered in the light with promises of sweet and tender kisses, maybe more.
Johnny battled himself with everything that he had, he wanted her, and she was willing, but he hired on to do a job, and this he took seriously. A failure caused by this woman had the potential to ruin his reputation. He’d come to the painful decision that he couldn’t do the job to the best of his ability with Lorna there, so he resigned and left, refusing payment for the job he didn’t complete. He’d run into Dan as he was about to leave the River R Ranch, and whatever Dan thought, deserting them or an attempt on his sister, Johnny never knew. But it resulted in a vicious fight, one that left Johnny bruised and battered but Dan unconscious on the floor of the barn.
That’s the last time Johnny had seen Dan, belly down in the soiled straw on the barn floor, but alive. Now he was dead, and Johnny was held responsible. What the hell happened? Johnny wondered. All he could do was to keep his ears open and wait for a chance to escape, hopefully in one piece. What he wouldn’t give for a bottle of tequila right about now…
He tried to cut the rope with a sharp stone but only succeeded scraping his wrists raw against the rough tethers that bound his hands. But as the men settled in for the night, Johnny could work at it with more vigor and persistence without so many eyes watching him. It was slow going; the stone wasn’t getting the job done. He resigned himself to the fact that he would have to wait for a different opportunity to escape.
The call of nature was strong, and finally, he had to raise his head to wait for the guard on duty to come and release the rope for Johnny to see to his needs. Once finished, he was again tied to the tree and left for the night.
*****
The searchers came across the ridge into the little valley and found the remains of the camp. There had been no fire, and Scott could only hope Johnny made it through the night alright, as his coat had been tied to the back of his saddle on Barranca. Hopefully, his captors had given him a blanket to ward off the cold. Cipriano knelt by the tree and called to Scott.
“This is where they tied him. He tried to cut the rope with this stone an’ looks like he cut himself, too.” He held up leaves covered in dried blood. Scott winced as he looked at the rust color coating the leaves. This was part of his brother, the brother he had so recently gained, and now stood to lose. The threat was very real. They were only one day ahead, still enough time to catch them soon and get Johnny back to Lancer, where he belonged. They mounted their horses and followed the tracks south.
*****
“Hey, Madrid?” Evan Adams called to his prisoner.
Johnny moved his head, only slightly, toward the voice, not giving Adams the satisfaction of his undivided attention, and did not answer him.
Evan continued. “You want somethin’ ta eat?”
Johnny stared, still without an answer. His head continued to pound and threatened to explode off of his shoulders, but he made no indication he was uncomfortable. He didn’t want to give them the pleasure of watching him struggle to keep his stomach contents where it belonged. They had a long way to travel, and Johnny knew the situation would only get worse. He cursed himself for his stubborn streak but would not give Adams any satisfaction.
“Suit yerself, backshooter,” Evan chuckled but got no response from Johnny. Instead, Johnny fixed his cold blue stare on Mace Carter, and Mace fidgeted under the intense dark, intimidating eyes. Finally, he got up and walked out to the horses. Inwardly Johnny smiled but outwardly held his glacial countenance. He would catch Mace off guard, and then he would kill him. The vision of Val’s body filled his brain. He had asked Val to come with him on this trip. He had been the one these assholes were after, and Val was the one dead. But they would pay for that, Johnny made a promise and hoped that Val heard him.
*****
Murdoch sat by Val’s bedside and watched the sheriff sleep. Sam had gotten the bullet out and did the best he could to patch him up. The rest was up to Val. It had been two days, now, that Walt made his way into town, leading Milagro carefully but as fast as he could. If Val was going to wake, it should be soon, and Murdoch was saying his prayers. Not only for Val’s sake but for that of his son. Val had to be able to tell them more about the men that had taken Johnny back to New Mexico. Murdoch wanted to hear it first hand. He’d been sitting here for most of the day hoping that Val would open his eyes, the eyes that crinkled at the corners when Johnny said something to make him laugh, and tell him that it had all been a mistake and Johnny would be home soon. But Murdoch knew that wouldn’t happen. So he sat and waited.
*****
Joe Edwards and Nate Tully sat with their heads together, discussing the situation. Neither one had the stomach for what they knew would happen. Everyone knew what an offensive and miserable person Dan was, most had even suffered at his hands a time or two. If Dan got himself killed, it was probably his own fault, and to be honest, most were relieved that Dan was gone. Madrid had done them a favor. But, what was it Madrid had said the night they caught him? He didn’t shoot Dan. So, who did? They knew Madrid was good with a gun; he didn’t need to back-shoot anyone. Something didn’t make sense.
They both had questions and knew they couldn’t ask Evan or the others. Evan was Nick’s foreman, and Lane Ross was not to be trusted, neither could they confide in Mace. But Joe and Nate knew there was something wrong with this whole mess, and they didn’t want to be held responsible for Nick’s blind judgment. They were ordered to come along, but the years they had devoted to the Richards family were not worth the price they’d pay for having any part in murdering Madrid. They knew Nick was out for blood, out to kill the person that shot his brother, and both Joe and Nate were having second thoughts.
“We could just ride out of here, Joe,” Nate said quietly, under his breath.
Joe shook his head. “Yeah, we could, but I don’t think we should. What if Madrid is really innocent an’ we take off? At least if we’re around, we might be able to prevent something bad from happenin’.”
Nate shrugged as he watched the fire.
Johnny sensed something going on between Nate and Joe. He watched them out of the corner of his eyes. They didn’t look too happy about this job for Nick, and Johnny suspected they were not in favor of this errand. Johnny remembered Nick Richards as a very forceful man, persuasive, demanding, and intimidating. No one dared to challenge his authority.
Johnny’s attention was drawn to Mace Carter as he walked through the camp and Johnny let his cold stare openly follow the weasel, and again, made Mace uneasy and nervous. Johnny leaned his aching head back against the tree where he was tied.
This night they did start a fire, but the heat barely reached him. Joe got his bedroll, went to Johnny’s side, and spread the blanket over him. Johnny looked up, surprise evident on his face. Joe went back across the fire near where Nate sat.
For the next three days, they made good time, stopping for only short periods to eat or let the horses rest. Their camps were made quickly and abandoned just as quickly. They traveled light, and no one saw them. Evan was disappointed that Madrid had made no move to escape. Evan Adams was as bad as Dan had been. He wanted Madrid to make a move; he wanted to hurt him. Nick informed Evan before they left it would be necessary to keep Madrid in line, even, ‘take him down a peg or two’ Nick had said, and Evan was waiting for the chance. He was looking forward to it, and planning on it.
*****
Val’s eyes began to move under the lids. His breath came in short, light gasps, and he groaned softly at first, then louder. Murdoch was at the edge of his chair with a cool damp cloth that he wiped across the dry brow. Val slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus.
“Val? Can you hear me? It’s Murdoch, Val.”
Val concentrated on the voice then focused his eyes. Recognition flooded his brain, and he tried to smile but suddenly stopped.
“They took J-Johnny— find him yet?” Hope filled his head and heart but faded as Murdoch shook his head no.
“Val, can you tell me anything about these men? Who are they and where are they from?” Murdoch asked calmly, not letting his anxiety and worry into his words.
“Nick Richards’s outta New M-Mexico, came after Madrid for back shootin’ ‘is b-brother. Gotta find ‘im, Murdoch. They’re gonna kill Johnny… Find ‘im,” and Val closed his eyes in exhaustion. Murdoch rose from the chair and called for Sam to sit with Val.
“He just woke and said the same thing he told Scott. I need to send a few telegrams, Sam.” And he strode from the room.
*****
They stopped for the night, it was late, and they all were bone tired. No one paid much attention to Johnny as he was tied, but his hands were in front of him, and he wasn’t yet bound to the tree. He sat and waited. And his chance came.
To the men on guard, Johnny looked like he was ready to nod off; what they didn’t know was that his mind was racing, and looking for any chance to escape. But, first and foremost, he was looking for the opportunity to kill Mace Carter. Escape would be after Carter was dead. If he didn’t escape, at least he had avenged Val’s death. That would be good enough for Johnny Madrid Lancer. He only hoped Scott and Murdoch would understand. So, he waited.
Evan Adams rolled into his blanket as did Joe and Nate. That left Lane Ross and Mace standing guard. An hour later, Mace ambled close to the fire for a cup of coffee. He squatted down on his haunches, laid his rifle on the ground next to him and reached for the coffee pot on the fire. He never heard Johnny move, and the roped hands were around Mace’s neck before Mace knew what had happened. Johnny was on the man’s back, straddling him and pulling his head back, choking him, pulling tighter and tighter as Mace tried to grab at the ropes cutting into his neck as his sight began to fade.
The coffee pot clattered to the ground, bringing the camp to a flurry of activity. Mace was blacking out, and Johnny wouldn’t let go. Lane brought up his rifle and fired one shot, hitting Johnny in the thigh. The bullet passed through the flesh, but Madrid didn’t seem to know or care.
This is for Val, you fuckin’ son-of-a-bitch! He kept repeating to himself as he pulled the rope tighter and tighter. Joe and Nate rushed over to pull Johnny off Mace as his throat opened, and he sucked in deep breaths, looking like a fish out of water. Then he collapsed in the dirt, coughing and spitting. Evan stood over Mace as the man clutched his bruised neck, and smirked. Stupid on your part, Evan thought as he watched Mace. Then he turned his glare on Madrid, who’d just noticed he’d taken a bullet.
Johnny took his bandana from his neck and did his best to tie it around his leg to staunch the blood flow as it coursed out of his thigh in a bright red flood. Evan grinned, and he began to envision a few more incidents as Madrid now seemed to want action. He’d been quiet so long, but apparently, it had all been for show. I’ll give you some action, boy!
In two steps, he reached for Johnny. Bending down, Evan grabbed the tied hands and yanked Johnny to his feet. Holding the ropes that bound Johnny’s hands, he punched his prisoner in the jaw, a punch that threatened to tear his head off his shoulders with the blow from the meaty paw. Johnny’s legs buckled, but Evan held him up, hitting his jaw again then punched his stomach with a rolled fist. Johnny fell in a heap and was rewarded with a kick to the ribs with a hefty size twelve boot. This time he lay still.
“You alright?” he asked Mace as he continued to sputter and cough. Mace raised his red, watering eyes, looking as if he’d just seen his own death. Adams shook his head and crawled back into his bedroll.
Joe and Nate took over the watch. As soon as Lane fell asleep and Mace bedded down as far from Madrid as he could get, they went to Johnny to check his wound. They bound it tightly, covered him with a blanket, and hoped this would be the end of any more incidents, but they both knew what lay ahead. It confirmed the fact that neither wanted anything more to do with this job.
“Nate, I don’t know ‘bout you, but I ain’t got the stomach for no more a this,” Joe whispered, so only Nate heard the mutinous words.
“Yeah, I’m with you, but what’re we gonna do ‘bout it? One of us can leave an’ notify the sheriff, but the other hasta stay an’ do what they can ta not let them kill Madrid…”
When morning came, Johnny was awake before the rest. His head and leg ached mercilessly, but filled with stubborn resolve, he refused to show it. He stared at Mace through glazed eyes, and still, Mace could not meet the glare.
The day passed in a pain-filled stupor for Johnny. When they stopped for a break or to let the horses rest, they yanked him out of the saddle, and he would fall to the ground, his leg no longer able to hold him. That would start the bleeding again. But all he could think about was his amigo lying cold and still in the valley in the mountains.
Johnny woke but didn’t open his eyes. He listened, not hearing anything to indicate another soul around. He took a chance and cracked his eyes open to slits, taking in what he could without moving his head. It was still dark, and stars blinked above him. The moon seemed to grin down on his present condition as if to say, “You got yourself some trouble, son!”
Johnny took another big chance and looked around. Evan Adams sat with his back against a tree, rifle lax across his knees, head limp to one side with eyes shut. No one else in camp was awake. He ached to stretch his uninjured leg, knowing at any moment he could be discovered awake, and then what? Who knew? He didn’t think they would kill him, just make it as uncomfortable and painful as they could. No, Nick Richards reserved the right to take out Madrid.
He chanced to move his leg, and the pain woke, shooting up to his hip and down to his toes. Johnny couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped his lips or the gasp that encouraged the dual protest of bruised ribs, and as he struggled for control, he heard a vicious laugh. When he opened his eyes, Evan Adams was standing over him with a sadistic leer on his ugly face.
“Need ta take some ‘o that fight outta ya, boy,” he muttered.
“Gonna take more’n you, pendejo…” Johnny ground out and glared through glazed-eyes.
Evan’s face contorted with rage, and his smile faded as he delivered a savage, brutal kick to Johnny’s wounded leg, then mercifully blackness claimed him again. Evan’s laugh woke the others. Joe and Nate got to their feet and went to the unconscious prisoner lying on the ground.
“He don’t look so good, Evan. What happened?” As they checked Johnny’s leg, they saw fresh blood pooling on the ground. Joe went for more bandages.
“Leave it! Leave it be!” Evan bellowed. “He asked for it an’ I gave it to ‘im!”
“Evan, Madrid’s tied up! What could he do to you?” Nate ventured.
“Don’t you ever question me or my methods again! Got that?” Evan was enraged; he’d reached his breaking point. “NOW GET AWAY FROM HIM!”
Mace smirked and grumbled ‘no less’n what the back shooter deserves’, as Joe and Nate backed away. They knew they had to get help, and each vowed to sever the ties with Evan Adams, Nick Richards, and the River R Ranch. They were done, but they felt a need to stay around for Johnny’s sake, and maybe they could keep him alive until they could find a way to help him.
Johnny was loaded on the horse and tied to the saddle, keeping him secure as they increased their pace. By this time tomorrow, they would be at River R Ranch, and Nick would have his revenge. Evan dropped back and rode next to Johnny, still slumped over, head hanging down along the horse’s neck. Evan jabbed Johnny in the ribs with his rifle barrel.
“Hey, Madrid? You awake?” Evan goaded.
“…not Madrid, ‘ny more…” Johnny mumbled, his stubborn streak still very much intact.
Evan looked over at the limp form and thought to himself, stubborn, very stubborn, but I’m gonna break ‘im an’ enjoy doin’ it!
*****
“Scott! Over here! Look…” Cipriano pointed at the ground where a large puddle of blood pooled and mostly dried. “Looks like there is an injury to his leg.”
Stay alive, little brother! Stay alive! Scott prayed.
*****
The communication from Murdoch had been sparse, and every time they thought support was on the way, something happened, and it didn’t pan out. Either Murdoch’s requests had not taken seriously, or Nick Richards had some friends in very high places. But then, so did Murdoch Lancer, more than Richards. But some of Murdoch’s telegrams had fallen on deaf ears, considered as ill-informed accusations. To be questioning someone of Nick Richard’s integrity was ludicrous. If Murdoch couldn’t get help soon, Scott would know they were in this alone.
Murdoch also knew it, and he knew time was running out. He thought the next step would be a visit to Governor Duncan Hartley. But then he had a chat with Val.
*****
Johnny felt the horse move under him. But he knew it wasn’t Barranca, so, where was he? Movement was next to impossible; his whole body erupted in pain, then it came crashing back to him, and he remembered with clarity what happened. He grit his teeth to force back a groan, not wanting them to know he was awake. He’d come to realize he wasn’t going to make it out of this alive. The odds against him were too high, and his chances for escape too small, so there was only one thing he could do, and that was to make it difficult, impossible for all of them. Not just hard for them but unbearable.
Madrid knew he’d end up dead, but what the hell, Val was already gone. The only regrets he had were leaving Scott and Murdoch. But things weren’t going to change now, so he set about making his plans, and they had to be good because he also knew his strength was failing. The blood loss from his leg had drained him, and the lack of proper food compounded the issue. He felt like a plug was pulled, and he could watch himself drain away. He didn’t know how much longer he had, but he was determined to make it rough on them… for Val. Who knew, maybe Scott and Murdoch would be proud of him?
They stopped to rest the horses under a large oak tree. A stream gurgled nearby, and Lane Ross broke out jerky and hardtack while Joe and Nate filled the canteens. Mace Carter decided that Madrid was safe enough to be around now; he hadn’t said anything all day, nor had he caused any trouble. Mace grabbed Johnny by the shirt collar and dragged him off the horse. Johnny fell in a limp pile on the ground. He gritted his teeth to not scream out in pain upon the impact. His head pounded, and his body felt on fire, but through sheer will, he remained quiet. For Val.
“Don’t look so tough now, do ya, boy?” Confident, now, he spat in the dirt, narrowly missing Johnny’s head, but Johnny gave no sign that he’d even heard him. Mace laughed and walked away, with a trail of curses behind him about ‘that no-account, back shootin’ halfbreed’. Mace left their prisoner to lay where he’d fallen, then made his way over to the stream and a refreshing drink. Johhny could almost laugh, hearing Mace talk. He’s talkin’ ta himself cuz no one else wants ta…
He cracked an eye open. There was no one standing over him with a gun pointed at his head. Slowly, quietly, he eased to the bush where the horses were tied. Carefully, he stretched an arm upward and pulled the reins loose. Then, grabbing a stick from the ground, he swatted the rumps of the horses and yelled as loud as his bruised ribs allowed.
The horses spooked and took off with manes and tails flying in the wind. Evan Adams cursed as he closed the distance to where his prisoner lay. Yanking Johnny off the ground with his meaty hands, Evan began to beat him with powerful blows to the jaw, ribs, and belly. He bent to pick Johnny out of the dirt where he had fallen, but Johnny suddenly laughed, catching Evan by surprise.
“You sure are… one stupid… bastard, Adams…” Johnny slurred and laughed again.
Beyond any self-control, Adams punched Johnny hard enough to propel him backward onto a pile of rocks, and there he stayed, unmoving and unconscious.
“You better not have killed him, Evan! That’d be murder!” Nate screamed, but Evan didn’t hear. With temper flaring to the exploding point, he dragged Johnny to his feet and began to beat him again. This time, both Nate and Joe stepped in. They tried to contain the explosive situation and keep Evan from killing Johnny. They blocked his way, and each took a massive shoulder to shove the enraged man backward.
“Evan! He ain’t gonna be any good ta Nick dead! Now leave ‘im alone! EVAN! STOP!” And eventually piercing a corner of Evan’s brain, the words started to make sense, and he ceased the brutal attack. He looked up at them and scowled.
“You two, track down them horses! We still got a day’s ride ahead of us.” He stormed away, making a feeble attempt to pull himself together, and once again, leaving Johnny unconscious in the dirt.
It took the better part of three hours to retrieve all the horses, and Adams was not happy with the delay. Lane and Mace joined Nate and Joe, rounding up the horses, leaving Evan alone with Johnny.
He lay on the ground where he’d fallen after the beating, only slightly aware of activity around him. Not wanting to move, Johnny stayed still, maybe the pain would go away, and then, maybe not. He tried to concentrate on other disruptions he could use to torment his captors. He wasn’t strong enough for much of anything now, but the stampede he’d caused was, indeed, a great start. But it may have been his last as the severe beating left him, for the most part, immobile. But Val would have been proud, and that was all Johnny wanted, was to make Val proud.
At the next river they crossed maybe he could throw supplies in the water, but he’d better make it quick if he could manage it all. They were almost at the River R Ranch.
The men returned with all the horses, as Mace grumbled about ‘Madrid causin’ a delay, should just shoot the bastard an’ save Mr. Richards the trouble.’ Once again, Johnny was hoisted into the saddle, tied securely, and they continued the journey. This time he couldn’t suppress the groan of agony as they hauled him to his feet and shoved him onto the waiting animal. Once secured, Evan laughed as he punched Johnny in the ribs. The lights exploded in a blazing white flash, and he was out.
*****
Scott checked the map and hoped he was still on the right track. The trail he’d been following had long since washed away as the rain continued to fall in the mountains. Not only was he slowed in his attempt to catch up with his brother and the men that took him, but he was also now going on just his gut feelings, nothing was certain. However, Cipriano believed they were headed in the right direction. What he based that opinion on, Scott didn’t know. What he did know was that the Lancer Segundo was a wise man and not prone to making the wrong call. And Scott trusted Cip as he would Murdoch.
The tracks were gone. He’d telegraphed Murdoch yesterday hoping to get new information, but all his father could tell him was where Nick Richards lived, his ranch, The River R Ranch, was in north-central New Mexico and he hoped to be there in two or three days. Judging from the amount of blood they’d found, he hoped Johnny was still alive…
*****
Val made much progress in the few days that followed the surgery. Sam was almost out of his mind with frustration. Val was near as bad of a patient as Johnny Lancer. But, not quite. Murdoch had been a constant visitor, and more times than not, it seemed he was a house guest. He helped treat Val, and for that, Sam was grateful.
Val had written out a telegram for Murdoch to send to Luther Kincaid, sheriff of Chama, New Mexico, and an old friend of Val’s. He’d also known Johnny, not well but enough to know that Johnny was not a back shooter. He’d had dealings with both Nick and Dan Richards, and he hadn’t been impressed with either man.
“Hey, Sam?” Val stretched the limits, and it was getting on Sam’s nerves.
“What, Val…” came the frustrated reply.
“When ya goin’ ta let me outta here so’s I can help get that rowdy Lancer back here?” Val pestered all day about getting out of bed and help to bring Johnny home, but under Sam’s better judgment, that wasn’t going to happen.
Val was still too weak and wouldn’t last two hours in the saddle without falling on his face in the dirt, and Sam didn’t hesitate to tell him so. Then, he received a glare that Johnny would be proud of, Dr. Jenkins thought. But Sam was just as worried as anyone else about Johnny Madrid Lancer. They knew from Scott’s telegraph messages that it appeared Johnny was injured, but no one knew exactly the extent of the injuries. They could only hope it wasn’t too bad and that Scott could get there in time to prevent further harm to the younger Lancer.
Murdoch was irritating Sam with his constant pacing, limping as his back gave him fits, but as he paced, he had to admit he did start to feel better. So he did not settle down and walked around the doctor’s house, room to room. And Sam’s frayed nerves frayed a little more.
*****
The hot sun beat down mercilessly on him. His hat had fallen off days ago and hadn’t been retrieved. His throat was parched and dry; he couldn’t get enough spit to wet his lips. A cut on the inside of his mouth continued to bleed, and any blood that went down his throat sat in his belly, threatening to erupt back up. Retching would be about the end as torn, and bruised muscles snagged across cracked and broken ribs. His head pounded with every step the horse took, and his leg felt as if there was a red hot branding iron pressing down into it. He’d not eaten since yesterday, and his strength was about gone.
But his brain was still functioning, not all that clearly, but functioning. He thought about Scott and wondered how he would get along without him there to see to it that he could make it in the West. Guess I jus’ gotta make sure I get outta this ta help my brother. Think I‘m gonna need some help with this… Murdoch’s gonna be pissed, can’t help that; he’s always pissed at me. Nothin’ new there… Then his thoughts drifted to Val, and he wanted to die.
“Figure we’ll be back sometime tomorrow night. We get a early ‘enough start, an’ we’ll be sleepin’ in our own beds again, an’ he,” with a kick at Johnny’s leg, “will probably spend his last few days in the pit,” Evan said with a cruel laugh. Johnny’s groan spurred another bark of sick humor from the man. Evan left his spot beside the fire and spread his bedroll.
“Nate, Joe, ya take first watch,” and within minutes, Evan’s loud snores echoed through the camp. With Mace and Ross settling down until their turn at watch, Joe and Nate sat, quietly talking between themselves.
“We gotta get Madrid some water. Hope he can keep it down ‘cause if he can’t, he’ll wake every one pukin’ an’ we’ll be in more trouble with Evan.” Both men had their concerns regarding Johnny, and both men knew they need to act with speed and discretion.
“Yeah, guess we can start givin’ ‘im small amounts an’ hope it stays put. I got a canteen right here. Let’s see if we can get ‘im ta take some. Don’t think he’s had much taday.”
They left their posts around the camp and checked that everyone was sleeping. Going to Johnny, they gently lifted him and put the canteen to his lips. Groggy with sleep and numbed with pain, he opened his mouth a bit as the sweet, cool water dribbled down his dry, dust-coated throat. He reached for the canteen but was stopped as a quiet, soft voice urged him to slow down, that he’d be sick if he drank too fast. Knowing that he didn’t want to lose the water he’d just taken, he stopped and nodded his head. In a few minutes, they gave him another drink, and his eyes slid shut. Nate lowered Johnny back to the ground and checked his leg wound. He quickly put salve on a clean bandage, tied it securely then covered him with a blanket.
They’d give him more water in a half an hour or so, depending on whether this drink stayed put. And so, through their turn at keeping watch, they managed to get Johnny the water that he so desperately needed without any of the others knowing. They had no stomach for the sadistic behavior of the other three men and could only hope this small amount of care would see Madrid through long enough for them to get the law.
Johnny settled down for the night, having taken quite a bit of the life-giving liquid. Joe and Nate were relieved that they had been able to get that amount into his belly and have it stay there. If they could keep smuggling him water, it would keep him alive long enough for them to help him escape or get help. They didn’t know if Johnny planned any more diversions and hoped he didn’t, positive they would not be able to keep him safe from Evan if he did. So, they continued their watch, and in four hours, they woke Lane and Mace to take over.
He heard voices, far away and not very clear, like mumbling. It sounded as if they were talking on the other side of a wall. In between the blows of the hammer slamming on an anvil inside his head, he could make out a word here and there but no full sentences. He tried to roll over onto his side but was stopped by pain exploding in his body. There wasn’t any part of him that didn’t hurt. What he wouldn’t give for his soft, comfortable bed back at Lancer. Teresa could come in and bother him every five minutes if he could just be there. But he wasn’t. Stop wastin’ time with that…
He raised a hand to touch his head; maybe the pounding would stop. It didn’t, and he forced his eyes open only to find five sets of stares coming his way. Five sets of eyes all seeming to say something different. Johnny settled his chilling blue stare on Mace again until the cobarde had to turn away, mumbling as he hid his face. The man couldn’t look into those ice-blue depths any longer; he knew he would die.
Spineless, Johnny thought.
He looked at the others and saw something different in all of them. Evans’ eyes were savage, wanting more of Johnny’s blood; Ross’ eyes expressed an imitation of Evan’s but couldn’t quite pull it off. But Nate and Joe’s eyes held a warning… For what? Nate slightly shook his head, and Joe’s face started to soften. Joe stood up and went to Johnny, helping him to his feet to hobble off into the bushes to see to his needs. Evan scoffed and ordered them to break camp.
“Me an’ Nate are tryin’ ta help ya, Madrid,” Nate whispered.
“Yeah? How do I know that?” Johnny asked as he spat stale blood out of his throat.
“Ya don’t, but we are. We got no stomach for all this, didn’t wanna come in the first place, knowin’ what Nick had in mind for ya. But after we saw Evan leanin’ on ya so hard, we knew we had ta stay an’ do what we could. Ain’t got no desire ta have them kill ya. We all knew what kinda man Dan was. All of us do. Mace had some bad run in’s with Dan. So did Evan.”
Johnny looked into Joe’s eyes and saw the truth written in them. “Alright, say I believe you, what now?” Johnny swayed on his feet, and Joe reached out to steady him.
“Easy, there. Just gotta trust us for now an’ don’t go makin’ no more trouble. Don’t know if we can keep Evan offa ya.” Joe helped him back to the camp, and after a quick cup of coffee, he was thrown onto the back of the horse again, and they started for Chama.
*****
Murdoch eased into Val’s room. Glad to see he was awake, the Lancer patriarch took the comfortable chair by the bed.
“How are you feeling, Val?” Murdoch asked, looking closely at the sheriff.
“Like I wanna go after Johnny. How do I look?” Val responded with a glare.
Murdoch shrugged. “You look like you need to stay right where you are.”
Now it was Val’s turn to shrug. “Sam say how much longer he’s keepin’ me here?”
“No,” Murdoch stated firmly, then added softly, “You’re not in any condition to ride after Johnny, Val, and Scott and Cipriano are on their way now.”
“Murdoch, Nick Richards is a snake an’ Scott needs ta be real careful, I mean real careful.”
“Any special warnings or advice? You’ve been at his ranch, I take it, right? They lost Johnny’s trail through the mountains, so Scott and Cip were going straight into Chama and lay low to scout out the ranch. What do you remember about the ranch?”
“I remember the pit…”
*****
Scott stopped to tighten his cinch, and as his fingers deftly worked the strap forming the intricate knot, his mind went back to the first time he and Johnny saddled up together to ride out on their range duties. Scott had gotten Remmie, short for Remington, bridled, and heard a chuckle from behind him. As he turned, he saw Johnny already sitting in his saddle, leaning forward with both forearms across the saddle horn, his amusement evident in the twitching lips and slightly raised brows at his new older brother.
“You, uh, you gonna saddle up or blow kisses to your nag all day?” Johnny said with an insolent smile.
Scott turned an indignant face to his little brother and then realized he was ready to go. His face softened.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were in a hurry…” Scott mumbled.
“I ain’t. Just not as slow as you are,” Johnny stated simply and lightly. “Habit from not knowin’ if I’m gonna hafta leave town in a hurry is all.”
And Scott had to wonder about the life his brother had led. ‘Leave town in a hurry’, and here he was now, trying to find that same little brother who had ‘left town in a hurry’.
Everything he did, everything he saw, reminded him of Johnny. Johnny Madrid Lancer, his brother, the brother he would ride to Hell for… When did it happen? He never knew he had a brother until three years ago, and now they were as close as brothers could be. Yes, there were some aggravations, but that was alright. Neither one was perfect, and considering where Johnny came from and how he grew up, or more accurately, how he raised himself, he turned out pretty damn good. In fact, Johnny was, indeed, the best man he’d ever known. And now he was riding to Hell, for his brother, for the best man he’d ever known.
Twenty miles northwest of Chama, Scott, and Cip made camp. The night was cold, and Scott wondered if Johnny was warm enough, knowing that his coat was tied to the saddle when Barranca returned to Lancer without him. And knowing that there was blood loss from an injury plus the chill and damp of the nights spent sleeping on the ground, Scott was reasonably sure Johnny would already be sick. He just hoped he wouldn’t be too late.
*****
“We’ll be there in an hour, Madrid. How’s it feel ta be comin’ back, knowin’ that yer gonna pay for a crime ya committed four years ago?” Evan needled. “Mr. Richard’s been waitin’ a long time for this!”
Johnny didn’t answer but turned cold ice-blue eyes on him. For a second, Evan felt a shiver crawl down his spine, long enough for Johnny to see it.
Johnny held back the smile. Turning his thoughts to what he knew was ahead of him, he needed to have the best plan possible and knew it was critical. Johnny also knew he wouldn’t last much longer if Evan got it in his head to ‘teach him any more lessons’. Thanks to Nate and Joe and the water they’d been sneaking him, he might be strong enough to last a few more days, despite the infection that had started in his leg.
And as hard as he tried, especially for Scott and Murdoch’s sakes to leave Johnny Madrid behind, he knew in all likelihood he would have to use Madrid to stay alive. Rely on his wisdom and grit, not that Johnny Lancer didn’t have these qualities, but Madrid didn’t go by the same set of rules Lancer did. So, with his mind made up, Madrid made his appearance, and this time, Madrid would be there to the end. Whichever way it would go. He just hoped he could pull it off, maybe he would need help from Nate and Joe, but could he really count on them? He was about to find out.
The River R Ranch looked much like it did when he saw it last. The house was still immaculate as were the grounds and the gardens. The massive front doors opened, and a tall, dark Nick Richards walked out onto the large covered porch. Hands rested on his hips, and he looked for all the world like a king surveying his vast holdings. With his evil smile, Johnny expected him to have fire shooting out from his pointed fingertips, starting flames under the horse he was riding and burn them both alive. But the man said nothing, and Johnny returned Richards’ stare, not blinking, not backing down. Richards continued to look Johnny over as if he expected Madrid to start cowering.
Gotta helluva long wait, ya bastard… Johnny thought but didn’t say or do anything.
Richards snorted. “I see you haven’t changed at all, backshooter,” Nick challenged, trying for an aggressive reaction, trying to provoke Madrid.
Johnny spoke in a low, cold voice. “Oh, maybe, maybe not. You’re still the same loudmouth bastard ya always were, though,” and he finished with a belligerent smile on his face.
Joe and Nate hung their heads and groaned inwardly. I told him not ta do that; it’ll make things worse, dammit!
“Get him off that horse!” Nick suddenly ordered with a venomous sneer. Three men, including Evan Adams, dragged Johnny down and let him fall to the ground with a groan on the impact that he could not hold back. The air knocked from his lungs in a whoosh and left bruised and broken ribs screaming. The wound in his leg broke open, spilling a bloody mess of infected discharge in a stream under his pant leg and aching worse than ever. It felt as if his head had long ago exploded from his shoulders, leaving shreds of nerves and flesh flapping around his neck, and that was the last he remembered.
When he opened his eyes, it was dark and cold. As he lay shivering, the pain began to escalate quickly to the point that his belly threatened to reject what little was left in it. No, can’t puke! Just breathe…
He looked up and could see stars, but they didn’t go from horizon to horizon, just above him, like he was in a… FUCK! The PIT! He was in the pit that he’d seen Nick use before for punishment and control over his subordinates. Johnny had seen him use this deathtrap, and men had died here. O.K., Madrid, ya gotta get outta here… He started running options through his head as best he could only to discard them one by one. He inhaled deeply by mistake, and a fresh salvo of pain was launched. Damn! He hurt, and he was cold. What the hell! Why’m I wet? he thought. Then he remembered.
When they dragged Johnny from the horse and dropped him on the ground, Nick Richards began barking orders. A man was sent behind the barn to open the pit. Four men, again Evans included, picked Johnny up and carried him around the barn as most of the other men followed, hoping to see Madrid beg for mercy as they threw him into the hole. Once behind the barn, a bucket of water was dumped on his head, reviving him, and as his eyes opened, he fixed them on one face in the crowd as the order was given to dump Johnny in the pit. His eyes didn’t leave that face until his body reached the bottom. His legs folded under him, breaking much of the jarring, and consciousness was lost a second time from the impact.
But Nick Richards was shaken by the calm, coldness he’d seen in those hard blue eyes, and to his dying day would not forget what he saw. He looked at Johnny lying in the dirt ten feet below and wondered how long it would take for him to die.
*****
The last telegraph message Scott received from Murdoch stated that they needed to see a Sheriff Luther Kincaid in Chama. Kincaid knew Val, and apparently, he knew Johnny as well. According to the message, Kincaid had no use for Richards or his kind. The buying of officials for personal gain was a sore spot, and Luther wanted no part of it or the weak individuals that participated in the practice. Scott and Cipriano walked into Sheriff Kincaid’s office and introduced themselves.
Sheriff Kincaid was, at first, skeptical of the two men standing before him. The story did have a flair for the dramatic, but then knowing the Richards family as he did, it sounded like something that did bear investigating. Especially when he heard about the possible involvement of Johnny Madrid and that Val Crawford had sent these two men standing before him.
“Johnny! How is he? Haven’t seen ‘im in a few years!” Luther asked, secretly relieved that Johnny was still alive after all this time but now worried finding Johnny was at the mercy of Nick Richards.
“Well, sheriff, I don’t really know about that. We do know he’s injured, and we’ve found blood on the ground in several places, but how badly he’s hurt is something we just don’t know. What can you tell us about the ranch? I would assume that it’s well guarded, and we won’t be walking in there and coming out with my brother, correct?”
The sheriff nodded at Scott’s question and hesitated as if thinking carefully on how to say what he wanted and needed to say. He was searching for the right words without panicking Scott into doing what Nick would expect should he become suspicious about a rescue attempt.
“If Nick Richards does have Johnny, we’re gonna have to do this quick, and it probably won’t be law-abiding…”
Scott looked at him with a raised brow, as if the sheriff was loco. What sheriff would be thinking about doing anything that wasn’t law-abiding? But then Scott thought of Val and knew that it would not be out of the question. The sheriff would have laughed, had the situation not been of such an urgent nature.
“Nick has every politician and almost every lawman in his back pocket. What he says goes around here, and somewhere it has to stop. Reckon it might as well be right now. We need ta make a plan,” Kincaid suggested.
*****
Hot, so hot, and the pain was intense. Johnny looked around him, and all he saw was four dirt walls and no way up. Think, Madrid! He remembered this pit. He’d seen men die in here, and he knew that if he didn’t get out soon, he would end up like the rest. Very, very dead, and no one would ever know. Dying in this hole wouldn’t be an easy death, in fact, it was a horse shit way to die, and the more Johnny thought about it, the more he promised himself he’d think of something, some way to escape this hell. Then he was going after Nick Richards, and after Nick, he’d put a bullet between Evan Adams’ eyes. Then, he’d go after Mace Carter.
A sound from above interrupted his musings, then, he heard it again, but it seemed far away. A few pebbles and some dirt fell on his shoulders, and the soil slipped down his neck and stuck on the sweaty skin of his back, increasing the discomfort. Then something touched his shoulder. He grabbed it and warned himself of possible danger. But there was no explosion of a gun or brutal punch from a rolled-up fist. What the hell? And then he realized it was a canteen, a canteen on a rope lowered from above. As quickly as possible, he uncorked the vessel and tipped it to his mouth, letting the fresh, sweet water trickle down his throat and into his empty belly, the belly that immediately started to rebel.
“Madrid! Slow down! Drink slow…” came an urgent whisper from above. Taking as deep of a breath as his battered chest would allow, Johnny tried to calm the battle raging in his body; then he looked up to see a face peering at him over the edge of the pit.
“Madrid, drink, but slowly! Ya need ta get more water inta ya,” the voice whispered again. It was Nate. Guess I’ll hafta trust ‘im… Johnny smiled. He drank again and swore he felt the water traveling in his body, cold and refreshing, providing badly needed fluid along the dehydrated, parched limbs. He didn’t want to stop drinking but felt the canteen pulled from his fingers as if a lifeline yanked out of his grasp.
“Gotta go now, but I’ll be back!” The voice faded away.
And then the canteen was gone.
Johnny looked around, and he was alone. Did he dream it? No, he knew he’d had a drink of water, but his mind was still blurred. He thought it had been Nate and sincerely hoped the man wouldn’t be caught, then wondered if the man returned to the bunkhouse undiscovered.
Dawn had not broken yet, and Joe was in the barn saddling his horse for the trip into town and a visit with Sheriff Kincaid. They had talked it out, and both were of the same mind that Nick Richards was not going to take his revenge out on Johnny Madrid. That would be murder, and neither of them was inclined to think that Madrid shot Dan. Why would he? He was too good to shoot anyone in the back. It made no sense. But they did know they had to do something and soon because if Richards didn’t kill Johnny outright, he was going to die in that hole.
*****
Johnny! Johnny, listen to me…
“Uhhh, who are you?” Johnny whispered into the night.
Johnny, look at me, look up. Johnny looked up but saw nothing, Johnny! You are ignoring me! I swear… Don’t you remember me? It’s Lorna, Johnny!
“…Lorna?… Where are you? Can’t see ya…”
Juanito! Why are you down there? Let me help you out!
“Mama? What… What’d ya doin’ here? Where are you?” Voices called down to him as faces swirled around the opening above him, teasing and tormenting. He was dizzy from looking up, his head pounded, and he was about to be sick. Closing his eyes and hanging his chin down on his chest helped, but the voices continued to haunt him. More and more faces floated around the opening of the pit, calling out to him, some beckoning, and pleading, and then he heard Murdoch’s distinct thundering bellow.
“JOHNNY! GET OUT OF THERE! NOW!”
“…Can’t, need help, Murdoch…” And it went black.
A stone bounced off his head and fell to the ground. Then another.
“Madrid? Wake up…” Johnny groaned and tried to sit up but choked back a cough that threatened to send him into a fit of unbearable pain. He sat there and held his chest for a minute before looking above him again.
“Madrid!”
“Yeah…” he whispered.
“Got some medicine for that leg. I’m gonna lower it down ta ya, but you gotta do it by yerself. Here it comes… can ya see it?”
Something bumped into his arm, and he reached for it, closing fingers around a small pail. Inside was a bottle. He picked it up and tried to focus on it but couldn’t make out any words.
“Madrid! Take the top off and pour it on your leg, it’s gonna help fight that infection.”
Johnny fumbled with the bottle and finally got it open. He found the hole in his pant leg where the bullet entered and dumped the contents of the bottle inside but suddenly stopped as pain erupted as if he was hit with a cannonball. The groan burst from his throat, and he grabbed his leg as the burning exploded, and fought the blackness that threatened to drag him under. He rocked back and forth, but that only added to the dizziness. He expected flames to shoot out of his leg any second and burn him alive. His vision grayed around the edges, blurring his sight. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he fought desperately for control.
“Madrid! Put the bottle back in the bucket…”
Muffled words reached his ears, and it took a while to make them out and execute the action, but finally, Johnny put the bottle in the bucket. The line went taut, pulled up, and there was no evidence that anyone had tried to help Johnny stay alive. Leaning against the side of the pit, Johnny was able to level out his breathing as the fire in his leg faded to a smolder. He closed his eyes and let the blackness over him.
Mace Carter watched from the corner of the barn. Nate was at the edge of the pit, pulling something up on a rope. When the pail appeared, Nate picked it up and scurried away, looking around to make sure it was clear, and no one saw him. When Nate was gone, Mace ambled to the pit and looked down inside at Madrid, slumped in a corner. He seemed to be sleeping or unconscious, and all was quiet. He would give it another hour or two, then tell Mr. Richards and not risk waking the man from sleep this early. Another two hours would be soon enough.
*****
The eastern sky began to lighten. Stars blinked out, and the moon went to sleep as the sun, already shedding suffocating heat, beat mercilessly on the ground. Little puffs of dust flared up under boots with every footfall; the earth begged for rain to cool its fevered hide. Many were up and about trying to beat the suffocating heat and the added agitation of getting chores done and errands completed before they wilted under the hot, blazing sun.
*****
Joe Edwards rode into town and pulled his horse to a stop in front of the sheriff’s office. Stepping down from the saddle, he tied his mount at the hitch rail and slowly opened the door into the stuffy but shaded interior. Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness he saw the sheriff reclined in his chair behind the desk and clearing his throat, he advanced to the empty chair opposite the dozing man.
“Mornin’, Sheriff…” and waited for Kincaid to shove the hat off of his face.
“Hey, mornin’, Joe. What brings you inta town so early?” Luther Kincaid saw trouble boil to the surface in Joe’s eyes and immediately was wide awake. It had something to do with Johnny. He felt it…
*****
As Mace stood before Nick Richards, his insides began to quake. Richards had always made him nervous and for good reason. Keeping the attention off himself and on Johnny or anyone else was advantageous for Mace, and he had found another scapegoat.
“Mr. Richards, I think ya oughtta know I saw Nate at the pit. It was late an’ didn’t wanna wake ya. Looked like he was pullin’ somethin’ outta the hole like maybe he was sneakin’ water ta Madrid.” His hands were shaking and hoped that Richards hadn’t taken notice. Richards didn’t look surprised.
“I suspected something like this from Nate or Joe. Neither one of them has any backbone. Mace, I need you to do me a favor…”
*****
Scott and Cipriano positioned themselves on the hill in front of the house. Hidden in the trees and out of sight, they could watch the ranch. There hadn’t been any unusual activity around the large home or the front of the barn. It looked like a typical working day, but sometimes things are not what they seem to be. As Scott sat and patiently watched through his spyglass, he couldn’t keep his mind off of Johnny. He was injured, Scott knew. However, Scott didn’t know how bad it was. With any luck, they’d be able to ride back to Lancer without any delay once they found Johnny.
He tensed as the front door opened, and two men stepped out onto the portico. They seemed to be in deep conversation, then one man, the smaller of the two, stepped off the porch and headed toward the barn. The other man disappeared back into the house. It seemed there was nothing unusual going on at the River R Ranch, until ten minutes later when the barn door opened and a wagon appeared. And where that in itself was not unusual, the strange bundle in the wagon bed was. The team responded to the crack of the whip and galloped down the road.
*****
Sheriff Kincaid and Joe raced across the meadow, over the creek and onto the road leading to The River R Ranch. Joe reined his horse to a stop, and Kincaid followed.
“We can’t just go up ta the front door an’ tell Richards we wanna see Madrid. Where’s his brother and that ranch hand waitin’?” Joe asked, thinking that joining forces was a better way to go. Anything they did from this point on was risky, and he knew that Richards wasn’t going to stop with just killing Madrid to get his revenge. Anyone that stood in the way of Nick’s plans could very possibly end up dead.
“On the hill up high, in front of the house.”
“Well, they ain’t gonna see anything there cuz Madrid’s in a ten-foot-deep pit out back of the barn.
“Nate’s been sneakin’ ‘im water durin’ the night, hopin’ ta keep ‘im alive,” Joe explained.
“C’mon, we gotta let them know about this!” Kincaid said, suddenly filled with apprehension.
They started off the road climbing the hills to find Scott and Cip. But before they had gotten very far, they spotted a wagon a few miles from the house, pulling off the road and down into a gully. As they watched, Joe gasped in surprise as they saw Mace jump to the ground and drag a canvas-covered load from out of the wagon bed. They quietly slipped down the hill and got as close as they dared, and could hear Mace talking in a frenzy. He was laughing and chattering to himself, but they couldn’t make out the words.
Moving in closer, they could understand phases and individual words like ‘blame Madrid’, ‘fooled ‘em all’ and ‘nobody’ll know I got that bastard, Dan’. They watched as Mace dug a hole and let him roll the canvas bundle into the depression, looking suspiciously much like a grave. Gripping the edge of the canvas, Mace pulled on one end, and Nate’s body was partially exposed. Drawing his pistol, Kincaid stepped out from behind the boulders and told Mace to raise his hands.
*****
Going out the back door, Nick Richards headed to the back of the barn. Reaching the edge of the pit, he looked over the side to see Johnny sitting up against the wall with his head tipped back and appearing to be resting.
“You should be dead, you son-of-a-bitch!” Nick screamed.
Johnny didn’t open his eyes, just mumbled: “Shut up, Nick… If ya can’t get down here an’ tell me ta my face, shut the hell up…” Johnny forced a smile, knowing that Nick wasn’t able to keep control of his temper.
Nick colored red with rage.
*****
Kincaid came over the hill and found Scott Lancer and the Segundo, his horse lathered from the hot sun and the long run.
“Scott! We gotta get down there, NOW!”
Scott and Cip retrieved their horses and vaulted into their saddles. The four men galloped down into the front yard of the ranch, hoping beyond hope to be in time to save Johnny Madrid Lancer’s life. Joe lead the way around back in time to see Nick Richards stand at the edge of the pit and quickly pull his gun. His finger tightened on the trigger, and he fired just as Scott drew his weapon and shot the pistol out of Nick’s hand. Scott jumped from his horse and ran to the pit, pushing Nick out of his way. Nick screamed for the hands to take Scott into custody and for Kincaid to arrest him for trespassing.
“Richards, you’re under arrest for attempted murder, aggravated assault, and probably a dozen or so other crimes, so I suggest you cooperate!”
Nick Richards was stunned into silence but only for a minute.
“I’ll have your badge for this, Kincaid! The governor will see to it!”
“The governor can have this badge if he wants it, but you’ll still be in jail, so shut up!”
Scott jumped down in the hole to his brother. Nick’s bullet penetrated Johnny’s upper left arm to pass through into the dirt wall behind him. Not a life-threatening wound, but it was bleeding, blood he couldn’t afford to lose.
“Somebody get the doctor and get us out of here!” Scott yelled, holding Johnny tightly in his arms.
*****
“…S-Scott…?” Johnny mumbled.
“Yes, Johnny, I’m here. Do you want some water?”
“W-Where‘re we?”
“Still at the ranch, Johnny. It’s only been a day, but the doctor doesn’t want you to move around too much yet. You’ve had a nasty time of it, lost a lot of blood, so you need to take it easy, little brother,” Scott said quietly.
Johnny opened his eyes and grabbed Scott’s hand, holding it in a death grip. “Get me outta h-here, Scott, now!”
Scott reached for the glass of water that was laced with sleeping powders left by the doctor. Knowing that Johnny would raise a fuss about not going home yet, Scott got enough water into Johnny for the drug to start working and watched as Johnny’s eyes slid shut.
The door opened quietly, and Sheriff Kincaid entered the comfortable room. He found a chair and settled in it, hoping to hear some good news regarding Johnny.
“How’s he doin’ Scott?”
“Like he always does. Hates being sick, anxious to be up, you know, a real pain in the ass,” Scott smiled as he watched his brother, his best friend.
Kincaid chuckled. “Well, he ain’t changed much, then!” He remembered all the times he’d been with Johnny and Val. “I sent a telegraph message ta Val an’ told ‘im what happened. An’ I fully expect him ta press charges against Richards for gettin’ shot. Mace Carter confessed his part in all of this. Sang like a canary when I told him he’d hang for murder an’ attempted murder. Wonder how many people he’s killed for Richards, not ta mention Richards’ own brother?
“Anyway, the other two men that had a part in takin’ Johnny are gonna have a mighty big surprise when they get back from Santa Fe. Apparently, Richards sent them with a message for the governor an’ I bet it don’t take Governor Clark long at all ta change his mind about supportin’ Richards any more. So they’ll all be accounted for. I’ll have a few deputies out here ta wait for Adams and Ross. Guess I’ll have ‘em start by fillin’ in that pit.” Kincaid got up and left the room.
Scott sat quietly as he watched Johnny sleep and wondered how many other faces out of the past would come to haunt his brother.
*****
Johnny opened his eyes to find Scott sleeping in the chair beside the bed. As he moved, his ribs protested, forcing a groan from tight lips. Scott was immediately awake, hearing his brother’s moan and leaned forward as Johnny struggled to breathe. Armed with the drugged water, Scott leaned forward to aid his brother and provide comfort and relief.
“…Scott?”
“I’m right here, Johnny.”
“Val…they killed Val,” Johnny whispered. The hitch in his voice spoke volumes, and Scott could only watch as his brother’s soul began to shatter. He had to tell Johnny.
Scott moved to sit on the bed next to his brother and placed his hand, palm down on Johnny’s chest. The pain in his brother’s eyes was enough to break his heart. “Johnny? Look at me.” Scott’s soft voice prompted Johnny to open his eyes.
Scott smiled. “Johnny, Val’s not dead. He’s recuperating back in Green River.” He felt Johnny’s muscles tighten and knew what was coming.
“What the… ahhhh,” he groaned and tried to move under his brother’s steady hand. “What the hell’re we doin’ here?” Johnny ceased his struggles, his eyes searched Scott’s and found truth in them. “Val made it?”
Scott nodded his head and offered Johnny a broad smile. “Yes, he’s alive. Sam is having a hard time keeping him down. It seems like all he wants to do is come down here and see that you don’t get in any more trouble!” Scott chuckled.
“Ahhhh,” Johnny sighed deeply, overwhelming relief flooded through him, soft, and euphoric as the jaws of grief and revenge released him from its paralyzing grip.
And Scott watched as the tension faded from his brother’s body.
“Wanna go home, Scott… wanna go home.” He closed his eyes.
“We will, brother, we will, as soon as you’re ready.” Scott sat back in his chair and watched his brother drift into healing sleep.
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~end~
Written July 2017
Edited July 2020
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PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT
Thank you for reading! The authors listed on this site spend many hours writing stories for your enjoyment, and their only reward is the feedback you leave. So please take a moment to leave a comment. Even the simplest ‘I liked this!” can make all the difference to an author and encourage them to keep writing and posting their stories here. You can comment in the ‘reply’ box below or email Buckskin directly.
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Thank you for writing and posting this story, which I really enjoyed reading. Great plot and dialogue.
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I am glad you enjoyed this story, and thank you reading and commenting. It seems as though Johnny is constantly getting into trouble and that makes a never ending source of entertainment for us!
Thanks again!
Diana
Buckskin
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This was fabulous. I loved this story. Good adventure. I loved the beginning with Johnny getting the community to help the orphanage, the camaraderie with Val and then boom bad guys hurt Johnny and one pissed off big brother. Loved this story.
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Hey there, Char! Yes, seeing those orphans in the wagon and hearing the old Father say there wasn’t enough money to buy what they needed really hit him hard. So, a little Madrid/Lancer charity was necessary and throw in a little trouble and you have a Johnny story! Thank you, Char and I’m glad you liked this tale.
Diana
Buckskin
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I loved this story. I didn’t know how Johnny was going to make it once they got to Richard’s ranch. The rescue part was as close as it gets! Thank you for sharing your always great stories with us.
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Hi, Debra! Thank you so much! Yes, it was trouble for Johnny. The past came out to bite him again. Thank goodness for a stubborn, protective older brother! Glad you liked this story!
Diana
Buckskin
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Just found this story. Wonderful story love how big brother comes to the rescue. Thank you for posting.
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Hi, Barbara! Glad you found this one and happy that you enjoyed Scott’s search and rescue of his brother! Thank you for reading and sending feedback! Always appreciated!
Diana
Buckskin
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I have been reading Lancer fan fiction since 2005. I’ve read some of your stories before but have found myself reading or rereading all the stories you have posted on your authors list. I have become intrigued with your stories and am dreading the end of your list because of how much I enjoy your writing. Please keep writing. I find your stories full of imagination, action, intrigue, and emotion. I love that most of your stories include both brothers, even though I am a 100% Johnny lady, because Lancerland is best when both brothers are together. Your writing ranks right up ther with AJ’s, Winnj’s and a few other authors I hold in high regard. Thanks for keeping up the good work..
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Tonda, I don’t know what to say to your glowing comment! Thank you doesn’t cover it by any means and I don’t know that I am deserving of this wonderful review. But thank you so very much! Writing Lancer is important to me; it has been my happy place for many years, and has given me so much in return. I’ve spent many hours reading fantastic stories others have written, and have met many wonderful people through Lancer.
Ha! Not to worry! As long as I have inspiration, I will be writing!
Thank you again for your support of my Lancer World! It means more than you know!
Diana
Buckskin
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Another great story 👏
Too much talent not to be in book-form. Thanks for keeping Lancer fans entertained .
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Oh, my, Ruby! Thank you for the comment, but I don’t have that kind of talent to put these stories into book form! But thanks! It’s very satisfying to me to know you are entertained with my drabbles. Thank you again!
Diana
Buckskin
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I am glad Scott and the sheriff found Johnny in time. Being thrown in a pit has to be torture beyond belief! I am glad Val is going to be fine, too. Johnny needs both Scott and Val to keep him out of trouble as constant protectors and keep him stable emotionally.
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Hi, Carol – What’s the saying? No good deed goes unpunished? That fits this story. Hmmm, I think both Val and Scott are right there with Johnny most of the time when he finds trouble! Glad you liked this one, and thank you for reading and commenting!
Diana
Buckskin
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Well written Val and Johnny story. The hunting trip to help the orphans took a terrible turn with Val shot and Johnny captured. Your villains were truly evil but good wins in the end. Nice job.
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Thank you, Elin. I’m happy you liked this Lancer tale. The hungry orphans were a good excuse for the hunting trip, and never let it be said Johnny and Val would pass up a chance to not only help out but to get away and indulge in a little time away from home. Thanks again!
Diana
Buckskin
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I loved reading Out Of The Past again. The thought Val might die seemed very real. Johnny without Val would be terrible. Thank you for sharing this true adventure with us.
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Hey there, drduke! This was a fun story to write, and there is nothing to make me happier than to hear a reader has reread one of my Lancer tales. Thank you so very much – I appreciate your comments more than you know!
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Thank you for this great story !
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Thank you, Caterina! I’m glad you liked this one.
Diana
Buckskin
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