Word Count 24,689
Thanks to Cat for the beta
The knock on the door resonated off the walls of the small office, sounding louder than it was. Major James Henry Thomas, commander of Fort Riverton in northern New Mexico, wondered if this could be the word he’d been waiting for. The trouble had been brewing for some time now, and all previous efforts to eliminate the raiding and murders were defeated long before they could rectify the problem. There was something very wrong and no way to get it under control. The situation was escalating and now called for desperate measures.
“Come,” he commanded.
The door opened to allow Corporal Casper Benson, a young, red-haired man with a severe case of freckles who snapped a smart salute immediately after entering the office. With the salute returned, he then made his announcement.
“Major, Captain Dixon of Fort Collins here to see you, Sir!”
Finally! The Major thought… The tall, imposing captain entered, and with salutes exchanged, Major Thomas addressed him, mentally sizing up the man before he occupied the waiting chair as Corporal Benson took his leave.
“Captain, it was good of you to come,” Major Thomas began.
“My honor, Sir,” Captain Dixon replied.
“Marauding Rurales have expanded their range and have ventured across the Rio Grande to raid into New Mexico. The situation is grave. Everything we have tried has ended in disaster. We send out troops to round them up and send them back to Mexico, and they are waiting to ambush our soldiers. We get wind of their whereabouts, and they are gone when we get there.” The Major paused and took a deep breath.
“Either we are getting bad information, or we have a traitor in our midst. Whichever scenario needs the utmost secrecy and immediate attention. We need to know where they are coming into New Mexico, where they go when they get here, just anything that might help eliminate their raids. Who is commanding them and if they are receiving help from anyone here. Information, we need information about them. I’ve been in close contact with the Governor, and we are both of the opinion that we need outside help, no uniformed men, no cavalry mounts, nothing to indicate this is a military operation. In fact, this will not be a military operation.
“Do you have any questions so far, Captain? For it is your assignment to put an end to this raiding. Their numbers are multiplying; we need to get this raiding stopped, now, before it gets any worse.”
The Captain sat still for a moment before he spoke as if measuring his words carefully. “What about guides, Sir?”
Major Thomas nodded in agreement. “I’ve talked with the Governor, and he has suggested a man with a vast knowledge of the area. I have contacted him and am waiting for an answer. His name is Val Crawford, and at present, he is the acting sheriff in Green River, California. He spent years down around the border fighting in the revolutions and various range wars, and he has a reputation as a fighter.
“As soon as I get a response, we can begin the campaign. These raids have to be stopped, and since we do not know if or where we have been compromised, this cannot be carried out as a military operation. If Crawford agrees, we will begin immediately. He is a civilian, and we cannot order him to do this.”
Captain Dixon looked puzzled, and another question came to mind. “With all due respect, Major, how is one man going to help defeat all of these marauding Rurales?”
The Major smiled. “Well, there will, in truth, be two men, if they consent. Crawford and a man named Johnny Lancer. His family owns the largest cattle and horse ranch in the San Joaquin Valley.”
“A rancher? Again, with all due respect, Sir, what good is he going to be to us?” Now, Captain Dixon was genuinely confused.
“I know, Captain, I felt the same way, at first. But you might have heard of him. He used to go by the name of Johnny Madrid…”
Regaining his composure, Captain Dixon shook his head. Yes, he had heard of Madrid, who hadn’t? But one sheriff and a gunfighter-rancher? It occurred to the Captain this mission wouldn’t stand much of a chance. But still, only two men…?
“I can see the doubt on your face, Captain. These two men know the area; they know the people and know how to fight against the Rurales. They know the lay of the land, so to speak like we never will. Right now, this seems to be the best option open to us, and hopefully, with their expertise, we can gain the upper hand. Lord knows, we haven’t done very well so far. And, the fewer people that know about this, the better. You will talk with no one regarding the issue, is that understood, Captain?”
Dixon stood and snapped a salute. “Yes, Sir!” He left the major’s office as the conversation replayed in his head. Civilians, huh!
<><><><>
“Didn’t I tell ya not ta do it?” Johnny chided with an irritating chuckle.
“Ya tell me not ta do a lotta stuff, but I ain’t listened to ya yet! Why start now?” Val griped as he held his head with shaking hands. Johnny rose from the chair and mercifully retrieved a cup of coffee for the sheriff, still battling to get his laughter under control.
“Boy, oh, boy, Val, between you an’ Scott, ain’t neither one a ya ever gonna learn! That horse coulda killed you, Val! Ya look a mess, ya know that, don’t cha?” he said as he handed Val the vile brew from the sheriff’s office pot. Val’s coffee wasn’t about to make the pain go away, but maybe it would taste so bad, Val would forget the pain in his head and concentrate on swallowing the mud in his cup. It was well known the sheriff made the worst coffee in the state. If a person could drink it and live through it, it would undoubtedly be the perfect magic elixir to get him on his feet.
”Ya better hope that the Widow Hargis don’t see ya like this. Ya look like ya just drank yourself under the table an’ ya know how she feels about drinkin’ bein’ ‘the work of the devil’. She really doesn’t think that much a you in the first place!” The statement not only served to aggravate Val but also pushed Johnny into another fit of chuckles.
Val huffed in disgust. That ol’ ornery woman don’t like nobody anyway an’ I don’t give a damn if she don’t like me… The toxic coffee began to do its job, now clearing away the cobwebs, allowing the blood to flow, filled with purifying oxygen. Before Johnny’s eyes, Val straightened his posture, the hazel eyes cleared, and the stagger was gone. The scruffy, unshaven face remained, but that was normal. At least Val wasn’t looking like a drunk.
Shaking his head, Johnny stood looking puzzled. “It’s a wonder you ain’t dead from drinkin’ that!” as he nodded at the cup.
Val leveled an evil grin at his friend. “Well, I’m glad ya feel that way, amigo! That way, you’ll keep your hands offa my coffee!”
“Coffee? That ain’t coffee! That’s plain horse piss! Maybe embalmin’ fluid…”
The banter bounced off the walls and was soon interrupted when Will, Green River’s postmaster, came through the door.
“Sheriff, this just came for you. It’s marked ‘urgent’ so’s I thought I’d better bring it right over!” Will handed Val the missive but stopped to look at the coffee pot on the stove as if contemplating helping himself to a cup. Suddenly he stopped to shake his head, remembering where he was. Nope, not his coffee! He nodded to Johnny and left, slamming the door behind him.
Johnny let loose with a howl of laughter and slapped his hand down on Val’s desk. “See, even ol’ Will don’t like your coffee!”
Val shot an evil glance in Johnny’s general direction, then tore open the letter. It looked official… and it was.
Dear Sheriff Crawford,
I have been notified by the governor of New Mexico regarding the increased attacks on civilians and our military forces by marauding Rurales crossing over the Rio Grande into the state. Every military campaign deployed to contain the growing number of incidents has failed, has been ambushed, or the enemy had already fled when the military arrived. Bad information… Or traitor in the ranks?
It has been brought to my attention that you are quite familiar with the area and has suggested perhaps you could help acting in two capacities. Number one, as a guide. Your extensive knowledge and expertise in that area are unsurpassed. Even our own military guides do not possess the proficiency this requires or the command of the land and its people. And number two- getting information regarding the whereabouts of the renegades, who is leading them, how many are there, and especially if can they be disbanded.
Johnny stood looking out the front window onto the street, waiting for Val to read his letter. Hearing Val sigh loudly, he turned to ask if everything was alright, but the words died in his throat as he noted the pained expression on Val’s face as the sheriff continued to read. Uh oh, this ain’t lookin’ too good for Val…
This is, as you know, a very sensitive and dangerous undertaking, and there is no guarantee of success. I am also asking for the help of Johnny Lancer as I am aware of the rapport the two of you share and that both of you worked closely together in the past. I have written him separately…
The front door burst open as Will handed Johnny an identical envelope then left the office, once again, slamming the door after him. Tearing it open, Johnny began to read the words that Val already started.
As neither of you is obligated to work with the military or under military law, I can only ask that you consider lending your help to our cause. You are desperately needed. The Army detail, comprising of four men, would benefit greatly with your help. The situation is escalating by the day and in urgent need of defeat and subsequent control of the region. I ask that you give this mission serious thought.
In Deepest Respect,
Governor Steve Bronson
“What’d ya think, amigo?” Val asked as Johnny finished his letter.
Johnny shrugged then watched Val’s eyes as they began to light up. Johnny saw a spark ignite, setting off a desire for a return to the old days. Sheriffing could be downright boring…
“I think that Murdoch ain’t gonna like this one little bit… Who’s gonna watch Green River if we do this?” Johnny asked, but having a fair idea. Governor Bronson had given this a lot of thought. Probably even warned Murdoch about it, too…
“Bronson said not ta worry ‘bout nothin’. He’s got everything covered. All we gotta do is worry ‘bout the situation in New Mexico.”
“There’s somethin’ that’s botherin’ me, Val. I ain’t too anxious ta be takin’ orders from the Army. If we do this, we need ta be callin’ the shots, not some cocky asshole fresh outta West Point. Hey, don’t tell Scott I said that, alright?”
Val snickered. “’ Yeah, sure, jus’ don’t piss me off an’ I won’t!”
“We need ta find out more about this before we go off on some crazy hair-brained scheme with an Army Captain that wants ta make a name for himself at our expense.”
<><><><>
“I’ll not lie about it, Johnny, I don’t like it! What if you’re seen by the Rurales? You’re still wanted in Mexico; they’ll shoot you on sight!” Murdoch was upset; he was pacing. Murdoch never paced. His hand was at his forehead as if trying to ease a pain that suddenly exploded there. He stopped to turn and level a glare at Val.
“What protection is being offered to the two of you? If this is a covert operation, it’s certainly not likely that there will be a company of cavalry with you…” Murdoch asked, openly hostile but with good cause.
Val dropped his head before he answered. “Won’t be any, that’s just it… If we can slip in there, just a few of us an’ take care a business, then we high tail it back an’ no one’s the wiser…”
Murdoch simply stared at Val as if implying that had been the most stupid, most ill-thought plan ever conceived. Murdoch stood in front of Val, glaring as if the situation was his fault, going nose to nose, eyes shooting fire with nostrils flaring in rage.
“No protection, just slip in, take care of business, and slip out… With a possible traitor reporting your every move? Are you out of your mind?” Murdoch railed.
Johnny swore that the thin sails of Murdoch’s beloved ship model actually quivered a bit in the tense atmosphere of the room. He waited for Murdoch to let his rampage run its course before he spoke. Pushing off Murdoch’s large desk he’d been leaning on, he sauntered to the sideboard and poured a shot of tequila, downed it, and poured a second. Turning, he resumed his spot, right leg across the corner, half sitting, half standing, and met his father’s full infuriated glare.
“Ol’ Steve wouldn’t a asked us if it wasn’t important, Murdoch,” Johnny said quietly. “An’ who’s better qualified for the job?” Johnny smiled.
Murdoch failed to see what was humorous about the whole thing. He looked between his son and Val; his heated, direct blazing glare leveled at them both.
“There’s probably no one better qualified than the two of you, but that doesn’t mean you have to go! I wonder if the Governor even knows about the Rurales still being after you!”
“Aw, c’mon, Murdoch, it ain’t that bad. The Rurales ain’t exactly organized or loyal, hell, the same ones probably ain’t even in charge anymore, besides with any luck we can get this thing figured out without even havin’ ta go inta Mexico. Not like the Army can just ride in there an’ demand the renegades stop what they’re doin’. We’ll catch ‘em in New Mexico, get the answers we need and set a trap for who ever’s in charge, one they can’t resist, ya know, money talks. That’s all we’re gonna do.”
He makes it sound so simple, but I know he’s saying it for my sake. Murdoch was not convinced, not even a little, and he let it be known.
“Johnny,” he began, trying to not let his panic cloud his judgment. He struggled to get control of his voice. “I know you’re going, no matter what I say, and I only hoped to talk you out of it. You, more than anyone, know what you’re up against and the dangers you face…” Murdoch’s voice trailed off into nothing, hopeless nothing.
Johnny rose from the corner of the desk and stepped to his father, an effort not to ease the worry; that wouldn’t happen, but perhaps to justify his decision.
“Murdoch, I know what it’s like ta be on the receivin’ end of the Rurales ‘law’. I’ve seen first hand what they do ta people, usually innocent folks that can’t fight for themselves. I’ve seen the widows an’ orphans after them bastards get through with a village an’ I helped ta bury their dead an’ if this little mission we go on can put a stop ta any of that sort of injustice, I hafta go, cuz if I don’t, I ain’t never gonna be able ta look at myself again knowin’ that maybe I coulda done somethin’… an’ didn’t. Val an’ me, well, we think maybe we can help with some a this. Maybe we can’t, but we gotta try. An’ I know you understand that.”
Murdoch watched Johnny’s eyes as he spoke and saw, without a doubt, the determination boiling in the deep blue eyes. Murdoch Lancer was a proud man, and although fear still clutched his heart in a death grip, the pride in his son began to overcome some of that fear. The two men, equally stubborn, stood toe to toe, worry in one met the resolve in the other but united in what was right and just.
Murdoch put his hands on Johnny’s shoulders, the father conveying his concerns and worry, but also trust that the son would use his extensive knowledge and talents to come home alive. And the son realizing what it took out of his father to watch him as he rode off, knowing there was a strong possibility that it would be the last time he saw his boy alive. Life was a gamble with absolutely no guarantees.
<><><><>
Johnny left a disappointed Barranca at Lancer. But before leaving the ranch, he offered a word of warning to Jelly to watch his fingers. The handyman would undoubtedly suffer a bite taking care of the spoiled horse in Johnny’s absence. Instead, both Johnny and Val chose mounts suitable for any night riding that might be required.
Johnny settled instead on a young, feisty gelding, black from head to tail. No blaze, no star, no distinguishing markings, and his lines were exceptional with conformation that rivaled Barranca. Val chose a dark bay with black points, also with no white blaze, star, or fetlocks. Both horses would serve them well in this type of work; the men had chosen wisely.
They planned to take the trail south-southeast, then east across Arizona and into New Mexico. They would pass through Albuquerque and head south to Socorro, where they would meet with Captain Dixon and make their plans. Having voiced their concerns to governor Bronson regarding Captain Dixon having ‘command’ over them, a mutual agreement had been reached, much to the Captain’s dismay, reiterating the fact that it would be not carried out as a military operation. They all wanted the same end result; how it would be resolved would depend heavily on the two civilians.
Where Captain Dixon could not enter Mexico, Johnny and Val were not held to the same strict confinements, but Johnny and Val could not make specific determinations regarding the actual interrogations of any renegades they helped to capture, not legally anyway. Still, the joining of civilian and military personnel was a necessity, and like it or not, they would all have to work to a common goal.
“Can’t really blame your ol’ man, Johnny. He had both you an’ Scott taken away once an’ I can understand him baulkin’ at the fact that you’re down here again with a big chance a runnin’ inta some a them Rurales that ya pissed off. Ya know they’d jus’ a soon shoot ya in the back as ta bring ya in, don’t cha?” Val said as they were nearing Albuquerque.
Johnny shrugged and smirked as he looked out over the mountains. “That’s why you’re here, amigo, ta watch my back…” The two men laughed, and only they could find any humor in the fact that they both were in peril. Madrid was well known, but Crawford had been right alongside, fighting with every bit of strength and fury. Yes, the Rurales hated Crawford, too, but at least Crawford wasn’t a mestizo.
“Sure do hope this Dixon fella ain’t gonna cause any trouble. Things could get outta hand real quick if he ain’t willin’ ta compromise on this. Things could get real ugly real fast…” Johnny sighed.
Val knew it didn’t need any further explanation. “Then we’ll hafta just make it plain as the nose on his face…”
<><><><>
Socorro was still eight hours away, and there was plenty of time to make a few plans. Working with their new ‘partners’ was always a risk, and soldiers were no different, but Johnny and Val had come up with several backup tactics; strategizing had been their specialty during the range wars they’d fought.
Plan number one: Always have a plan number two. As they sat around the campfire at night, they discussed options, going about making plans as if this was a repeat of the old times. They’d spent many hours pouring over maps, studying the terrain and deciding the best routes and hiding places, where to attack, where to lay low and where the water would be. They knew the border from Texas to California and knew how to travel through the territory without detection, and they knew the people.
Johnny wondered if there were many of his old friends left or if the current Mexican regime had killed or imprisoned them. Indeed, a once known supporter of the revolution would no longer be allowed any freedoms, much less to go on living. Entire families had been wiped out, many friends murdered but Johnny had to push those thoughts aside, there was nothing he could do to change that now; what happened had happened, and there was no going back, no magical panacea. Still, he wondered who was left…
After making rough plans, both Johnny and Val settled down to catch more sleep. Falling back into the old ways of sleep when you could because you didn’t know when you would get your next rest, they pulled their hats low over their eyes but not so low they couldn’t take a glance around them, and they slept.
Things in Socorro hadn’t changed much; it was still the dry, dusty town they remembered from a lifetime ago. The buildings didn’t look like they’d had a decent coat of paint since the last time they passed through. The saloon was the same, the small dingy hotel was the same, and the looks in the eyes of the residents were the same. They were either filled with fear and suspicion or an indifference born of living with nothing and hoping that life wouldn’t be too hard on them for the rest of their natural days.
They took their time getting to the destination; they were strangers in town, and the less attention they drew, the better it would be. Per his custom, Johnny hesitated at the batwing door of the saloon, scanned the room for potential threats, then entered. He walked to the end of the worn, bullet-scarred bar and ordered two beers.
Having seen the soldiers at a table to the right, Johnny did not make eye contact and ignored them as strangers. The three men sitting there screamed Army. Although dressed in civilian clothes, one brief look told Johnny all he needed to know. They would not make contact in this saloon without alerting any potential threat.
“Madre de Dios! Might as well paint a big ol’ sign sayin’ ‘here we are, boys!’ Guess no one told the Captain he had ta be discreet about this. He shoulda just wore the blue uniform with them yellow stripes down the leg and the big ol’ captain’s bars on his jacket…” Johnny said quietly to Val as they drank.
Val had seen them, too, and had this not been so important, he would have laughed out loud. Yup, Greenhorns… this ain’t lookin’ too good…
Appearing to those in the saloon to be drifters, Johnny and Val ordered another drink. They kept a surreptitious watch at the table where the three men sat. The batwing doors opened, and a fourth man joined them. He pulled out a chair and sank into it, announcing in a voice loud enough to be heard in the room, “No, no one else got off the train. Maybe they’ll come in on the stage.”
Johnny met Val’s eyes, and both stared in disbelief. They finished their drinks and quietly left the saloon. Casually they walked back the way they had come, retrieved the horses, and rode out of town.
“Well, we did it this time, amigo,” Val huffed in complete disbelief. “Just how stupid are those guys? If I’d a known this, I’d a told ol’ Steve Bronson what he could do with the boys in blue!” Val railed scaring the birds that had taken roost in the nearby scrub oak trees.
Keeping themselves out of town was critical, now that the soldiers had let it be known they were waiting for others. Although civilians may not have realized they were, indeed, soldiers, there were others that did, Johnny was sure of it. Holding his gut feelings in check, for a while anyway, he decided to keep them to himself, but the chances were that Val had caught it, too.
“We gotta wait for them idiotas ta get outta town now b’fore we make contact. Can’t have anyone see us with ‘em…” Val spoke the thoughts running through his head, talking them through, sorting them out.
Johnny sat under a giant cottonwood, letting the shade wash over him, calming the irritation that prickled his skin. No wonder these guys are havin’ trouble catchin’ the renegades… With officers like this one in charge, we might as well just turn ‘round an’ go home… He chewed on the blade of grass as he mulled over their options, or lack of them.
Now it was Johnny’s turn to voice his thoughts. “Bein’ strangers in town, chances are that someone saw us taday so we can’t just walk inta the hotel an’ ask what rooms they have. We’re gonna hafta make them come ta us.”
“So how’re we gonna do that? Got any ideas?”
“Dunno. Workin’ on it…” Johnny mumbled as he leaned back against the tree and pulled his hat down over his eyes.
<><><><>
Darkness descended on the town as Captain Dixon, dismayed over the fact that another day had been wasted waiting for the civilian guides, wandered back to his hotel. Making his way into the lobby, he stopped at the desk. The small-boned, wiry man with spectacles that slid down to the end of his nose and threatened to fall off the sharp tip was still on duty.
“Have there been any messages for me today?” he asked the clerk.
“No, sir, Mr. Matthews,” Matthews, not Dixon… Johnny kept to the shadows and walked around to the back of the building.
“Val, ‘m gonna write him a note, in about two minutes make some noise out here so that clerk leaves the front desk, just so I got enough time ta put the note somewhere that he’ll find it.” Johnny scribbled the brief note and went back around to the front, then heard Val knock over a stack of wooden crates. Johnny watched from the shadows as the clerk suddenly alarmed by the crash, looked to the back of the building, and took off down the narrow hallway, no doubt to a door that led to the alley.
Johnny quickly deposited the note on the register book and left before anyone saw him. Almost as if choreographed, the little man appeared through the door again, taking his post at the front desk. He stopped in his tracks as he spied the note with Matthews name written on the front. Taking the missive, he immediately whisked the note up to Mr. Matthews; after all, he acted like he was expectin’ somethin’…
“Thank you, Mr. Herman. I appreciate it.” Captain Dixon closed the door and tore open the note.
Meet us at the creek west of town at dawn. Come alone.
Captain Virgil Dixon sat in the chair by the window and wondered if this was from the two who would act as guides or if he were going to be walking into a trap. The Army still did not know if there was a traitor among them, and all possibilities had to be taken into account.
<><><><>
Johnny and Val watched as the Captain left the hotel and picked up his horse at the livery. Shoulda known, both Johnny and Val thought as the Captain rode west out of town on a buckskin. There were no other men with him and no other signs of activity in the hotel.
“Val, follow him, see what he does an’ if he goes straight ta the creek or takes a detour ta see if he’s bein’ followed,” Johnny whispered from their vantage point in the shadows.
Val nodded then asked, “What’re you gonna do?”
Johnny smiled. “Gonna stay here for a while ta make sure no one follows him. Watch yourself, amigo,” Johnny whispered with a grin.
Val returned the grin, then turned, and keeping to the shadows, he left to follow the man who was trying to be inconspicuous but had a bull’s-eye painted on his back.
Johnny stayed hidden and wondered if this was a waste of time but knew from painful experience this could be a critical point to establish who could be trusted and who couldn’t. More than one man had gotten himself very dead not taking the proper precautions. If there was no sign of a tail in the next fifteen minutes, Johnny would leave and be at the creek to have a ‘chat’ with their new partner.
No sooner than Johnny settled in to wait, than the back door opened, and a dark figure darted out and ran to the stable.
“Mierda! Hate workin’ with greenhorns…” he thought as he retrieved his horse, Intimidar. Johnny decided his best chance was to head after Val, and the Captain and all of them keep out of sight from the person bent on finding them.
Johnny nudged Intimidar into a gallop and headed straight for the creek, hoping to beat the Captain and Val to the designated spot. And he didn’t have to wait long. He kept to a grove of live oaks still in sight of the creek, and before too many minutes ticked by, he heard the hoof beats and saw the buckskin coming close, then caught a movement behind and knew that Val was there, also. Johnny let the captain get to the creek when he stepped out into the open, startling the soldier as he suddenly reached for his sidearm when he saw the unknown man.
“Captain Dixon, ya need ta come with me an’ don’t be makin’ no noise,” Johnny stated softly, but the edge in his voice held a command that brooked no discussion. Val rode up as Johnny hustled Dixon back within the cover of the trees.
“Tail?” Val asked as Johnny scanned the direction of where they’d come.
“Yup.” And soon, all three men watched as a lone man rode into view as the dawn started to shed its pink-orange light over the range.
“Captain, can you make out who it is?” Johnny asked but was already reaching to silence Dixon when he saw recognition in the Captain’s eyes. The man was about to call out when Johnny’s clamped his hand over Dixon’s mouth as he silenced the call before it got started. The man on horseback seemed puzzled as his quarry was nowhere in sight. He stopped the horse to look around, then scouted the area for a short while and found nothing. Then he turned around and went back the way he’d come.
“What is the meaning of this!” the Captain railed after Johnny let him go. “That was my sergeant, and he knows as much about this as I do!” The thought of keeping Sgt. Mason out of the loop was not sitting well with Captain Dixon.
“An’ he could know more’n you do. Might wanna keep that in mind while you’re at it…” Johnny’s words held a challenge, and there was a warning in the statement. “We told ya ta come alone an’ we meant it. Ya don’t like havin’ ta work on our terms, then ya can get someone else to help ya.” Johnny held the cool stare, leaving the Captain to wonder just what exactly he’d gotten into.
The Captain, filled with shock, stared at the man standing before him. He didn’t look like an average desert rat; there was an air of arrogance about him as he stood appearing ready to pounce, and an air of confidence rolled in waves around his body. And there was something else, too, there was an element of danger.
“And, just who are you?” Dixon asked, trying to regain some of the control that he thought he had before it slipped from his fingers.
“Name’s Johnny Lancer an’ this is Val Crawford.”
“Do you have any proof of who you are?”
“Nope,” Johnny said, intentionally irritating the captain.
Dixon’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t think working with civilians would work, and now, he was sure there was going to be trouble. How was he to trust these two? Val reached into his pocket and handed Dixon the letter that Steve Bronson had written him. As Dixon read it, he began to relax.
“Why didn’t you let me call out to my sergeant?” Dixon asked, once again, hackles beginning to rise over the authority these two men assumed over him.
“Ah, Cap’n,” Val asked with raised brows and a finger pointing to the letter still in Dixon’s hand, “Did ya read the part ‘bout a traitor might be runnin’ all over hell ruinin’ your plans?”
The sarcasm was not lost on Dixon. “You don’t think that my sergeant is a traitor, do you?” the Captain responded incredulously.
“We told ya ta come alone… an’ we meant alone. Until we know for sure or not if there’s someone leakin’ information ta the Rurales, we ain’t takin’ no chances an’ don’t give a shit who we’re talkin’ about. So let’s stop wastin’ time an’ get a few things settled,” Johnny growled as Val started to get comfortable on a nearby log.
“Yeah, I’d say we need ta go over a few things here, Cap’n. An’ we can start with your men. Who are they an’ where’d they come from?” Val got the conversation going, asking the questions as Johnny sat and listened, for the most part, only interrupting when something didn’t sound like it should or for clarification.
Dixon answered everything Val asked of him and began to feel more at ease with the two strangers. The questions they asked were valid and well thought out. I guess these two really are the experts here Dixon admitted to himself but not letting them know his thoughts.
“Guess we got most everythin’ talked over. Oh, yeah, there’s a coupla more things, Cap’n.”
“Yes, Mr. Crawford, what would they be?”
“Well, for one, call me Val. Now, ya need ta get a different horse. Two…”
“Why do I need a different horse? That’s my…” Indignation raised its ugly head again.
Johnny took a deep breath. Captain Dixon wasn’t getting it. “Ya can see ‘em at night. What we’re gonna be doin’ might take some night time ‘activity’,” Johnny explained. “Your Sergeant, too. He’s ridin’ a dapple gray. We have ta be able ta move at night if need be an’ not be seen. Any horse that has white on ‘im hasta go. Get others. Dark colors. Your guns, too. They’re Army. Get rid of ‘em. Sidearms an’ rifles. Them carbines ya got’ll give ya away. Winchester’s are what folks out here use, ya won’t stand out.”
Val snickered at Dixon’s expression; he was clearly put off with Johnny’s direction, or just maybe it was his tone and nah, it couldn’t be Johnny’s attitude! Dixon started to object, but Johnny interrupted him. His agitation was rapidly growing at the captain’s ignorance that would threaten the success of the mission.
“Look, Captain, we’re puttin’ our lives on the line here. Do you think ya could get across the border without drawin’ attention ta yourself? Do ya think that you could survive out here alone without us? An’ do ya even know what or who you’re lookin’ for or where ta look for ‘em?”
Dixon saw the reasoning behind the change of horses and arms, however, balked at the blunt delivery of the information. But the man seemed to know what he was talking about. After all, he used to be Johnny Madrid… And Dixon reined in his anger.
“I think I owe you both an apology. I am sorry for any inconvenience I have caused. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
No shit! Crossed through Val’s mind, but instead, he offered to smooth things over.
“No harm done… For now, Cap’n but ya gotta realize that what we’re doin’s dangerous an’ me an’ Johnny gotta be careful ‘round here.”
Dixon nodded.
“Was the sergeant the same man that was gone from your table last night at the saloon? We saw someone come in after we got there an’ sit with you.”
Dixon looked shocked. “You were there last night?”
This is worse’n I thought it was gonna be! Son-of-a-bitch! Johnny didn’t say anything but stared at the captain.
“Yes, he said he had to go back to the room for a minute, then he rejoined us while we waited for you.”
Val caught Johnny’s eye but said nothing and let Johnny continue.
“He been makin’ it a habit of takin’ off, maybe makin’ excuses ta go somewhere an’ leavin’ you?”
The captain thought back, recalling the trip here and even before leaving the fort. He then met Johnny’s stare.
“Well, yes, but he has his duties to perform that do not require him to be in my presence.”
“Or he could be passin’ along information about when an’ where troops would be. Look, Captain, I know ya don’t wanna believe it’s possible that your sergeant could be a traitor, but I think ya need ta at least keep it in the back of your mind. I, for one, don’t believe in coincidences an’ there’s just too many things that happened so far ta not think that there’s some kind of information that’s gettin’ ta the other side. Do you confide everything in him?” Johnny’s voice took on a less interrogating tone, and the captain responded.
“Yes, … I do. He knows my every move, who I talk to, when I talk and what the conversation is about,” Dixon said quietly.
Johnny looked down at his hands as his fingers shredded a long, thick blade of grass. “Alright, how about from now on ya run things through Val or me an’ not your sergeant until we know for sure which side he’s workin’ on?”
That went against everything Captain Dixon stood for. But did he have a choice? For now, he would listen to Val and Johnny.
After talking for another thirty minutes, they split up. Captain Dixon returned to town, his head reeling with things that went against everything he was trained for, while Johnny and Val started south.
They decided to meet just outside of Las Cruces in four days at a small canyon Johnny, and Val knew well. It provided good cover, water, and they would be able to see anyone approaching for miles. It proved useful many times in the past. They devised a plan that the captain and his men would leave Socorro at noon, assuring that Johnny and Val would get to their camp beforehand. Captain Dixon was not to tell any of the men where they were off to or who they would meet.
“What’d ya think, amigo? That sergeant spillin’ his guts ta the other side?” Val asked as the two rode through the early afternoon sun.
Johnny shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. At this point, could be any one of ‘em. The sergeant, right now, has the most goin’ against him, but that don’t mean nothin’ yet. Seems like sergeants do a lotta crap, so their commanding officer doesn’t hafta an’ maybe he was just lookin’ out for Dixon an’ followed him outta town. We’ll find out. But what we gotta do now is figure out where the Rurales are comin’ across the border. Dixon said the last places they attacked were San Miguel an’ up by Mesilla. Let’s go see what we can find out. First, though, let’s get some shut-eye an’ in a coupla hours after sundown we’ll start ta travel. It’ll be cooler.”
<><><><>
Johnny Madrid and Val Crawford slept, getting much-needed rest before the grueling ride south to Las Cruces. They rode into town just after noon, again, riding casually, not attracting unwanted attention. They tied their horses at the hitch rail in front of the cantina and stopped at the open door. Johnny scanned the room, saw some familiar faces, and nodded at them as he passed through to take a table against the wall in the back. Within minutes a tequila bottle was placed before them with two surprisingly clean glasses. They ordered tamales and beans, and soon all conversation faded as they filled their bellies.
Johnny watched as the man he acknowledged when they entered the cantina left his chair and came to stand, casting his shadow on the table. Johnny gently slid a chair out with his foot, indicating the man should join them. Folding his lanky frame in the confines at the table, he reached for the bottle before he spoke.
“Heard ya got yourself shot by a firin’ squad some time back… Guess ya can’t believe what’cha hear, huh?” A wide grin spread almost splitting the face in two.
“How ya been, Colby?” Johnny asked with an equally big grin. “Ya still chasin’ after them pretty senoritas?”
“Start tossin’ dirt over me when I stop that! Good ta see ya, Johnny! You, too, Val! What the hell’ve you two been doin’?” Buck Colby had fought alongside them many times during their range war days and had been a trusted friend. It was sheer luck that they stumbled onto him this soon in their search. Colby would know what was going on around the border with the Rurales.
“Oh, we’re just checkin’ out a few leads, Buck. You hear ‘bout anything goin’ on?” Val said as they continued to drink.
Johnny tossed back a shot and watched Colby’s gray eyes that sparkled under the dark brown growth that were his brows as he forwarded information that could be useful. The Rurales were on the move, renegades raiding deeper and more brazenly than ever along the border and extending their range further north. In the last several months, many had been killed, innocent families torn apart, murders, rapes, kidnappings, plundering like never before.
“Hell, folks are just plain scared an’ the damn Army ain’t doin’ nothin’ ‘bout it. Oh, they come out an’ put in an appearance like they know what they’re doin’, but they ain’t caught none of ‘em yet! It’s like they don’t care.” Colby was clearly put out. He downed his drink then reached for the tequila bottle.
“What ‘bout the bigger ranches ‘round here? Any noise ‘bout them goin’ vigilante?” Val asked, hoping that someone had some kind of lead.
“Not yet. But it seems like mostly the smaller places are gettin’ hit, maybe them renegades are just testin’ ta see how easy the pickin’s are on this side a the border but ain’t heard nuthin’ otherwise. What’d you two hear?” Colby was interested, and he leaned in talking lower than before, knowing that this type of business would draw unwanted attention if a particular faction were to get wind of any potential plans.
Val smiled as he saw ‘the look’ in Buck’s eyes; Johnny had seen it, too, this lifestyle was in his blood, and he would want in. Their circle of contacts, the old friends and fighters from several years prior was getting smaller; not only were they killed living this lifestyle, but age and changing times had taken a considerable toll, for all of them.
“Heard Pardee bought it up in California coupla years ago…” Buck let the suggestion fade as Johnny, and Val looked at each other, not about to tell Buck that Pardee had put a bullet in Johnny’s back trying to take Lancer; maybe that would come later. But now they still needed information, and Colby was ready and willing.
“Yeah, heard that, too. But he was gettin’ too reckless with the way he was runnin’ his outfit. Bound ta happen.” Val spoke, then turned the conversation back to the Rurales. “So do ya have any names ‘round here of folks lookin’ for help or of the Rurales doin’ the raidin’?” Val continued to fish for answers, and always getting the information he was after.
It was after sunset when Johnny, Val, and Buck Colby left the cantina. Bit by bit, Val extracted enough information from Buck to get a handle on the how’s, when’s and why’s of the situation. They kept in the back of their minds that Buck could be an asset should the need arise.
Buck had a feeling that they were up to something but kept that fact to himself. If Johnny and Val needed help, they would ask, he would be there and be glad to do so. He had developed an affinity for these people and, like Johnny and Val, would be more than willing to lend a hand in defeating the renegade Rurales. They left the people starving and destitute; they had killed the men and taken the women to sell in Mexico after using them for their own depraved enjoyment and burned entire villages to the ground. And they left many, many orphans. It had to stop.
<><><><>
The fire began to produce sufficient heat as they waited for their coffee to brew. Johnny insisted on making it after years of drinking the poison Val created. He could never figure out why Val’s coffee was so bad, consistently bad. Johnny smirked as he drank, sipping it as he sat in front of the fire. They had dinner in town, and now with a full belly, they settled down to talk over the hot brew.
“Well, if’n ol’ Buck has his facts right them Rurales’re sneakin’ ‘cross the border right ‘round El Paso, just a little west, I reckon. Seems like there’s a coupla spots that’d make it pretty easy ta cross an’ if they stayed ta the hills on the west side a the river they could pretty much come an’ go as they please. R’member workin’ for Jason Stafford over in Deming?” Val asked.
Johnny nodded. “Sure do, he’s a mean son-of-a-bitch…” and he laughed.
“We followed them bandits that was rustlin’ his cattle clear inta them hills an’ was like chasin’ our tails for a few days till we tracked ‘em down in them canyons an’ valleys. It’s a good place ta stay if you’re doin’ somethin’ ya ain’t s’posta be doin’,” Val declared.
Johnny had to agree. It would be a place to start. Johnny slid down and dragged his bedroll over him. The cold was beginning to settle on them and he had a notion that instead of coffee, maybe some tequila should be in order, then thought better of it. They had all consumed too much during the course of the afternoon with Buck, so he stuck with the coffee.
He thought about those canyons and valleys, remembering as much as he could regarding the area. They had covered many square miles while working for Stafford, and it had been several years ago, but once he and Val arranged a reconnaissance expedition to refresh their memories, he was sure it would come back to him. They had covered a lot of ground in their fighting days, but some places stood out more than others, and he had a feeling that this would be one of those places.
They had several miles covered before sunup; at this pace, it wouldn’t take very long to get to the border. It crossed the minds of both Johnny and Val that not much had changed in these hills; they were still desolate, making them prime territory for renegade activity.
In the time it had taken them so far, Johnny counted six burned out farms, peasants that made a fatal mistake of not only trying to eke out a living in a savage and unforgiving land but in this particular spot. The people that settled here were farmers, not fighters. They were an open invitation of sorts for any bandit to prey upon. There would be no fair fight, no contest of strength; it was a simple case of cold-blooded murder, rape, and theft. The dead were left to rot where they died unless a survivor buried them, then moved on, leaving a corpse of the life that used to reside there.
Johnny had seen it many times before, and every time he was reminded of the terrors he had witnessed as a small boy growing up alone and starving. The struggle to stay alive was strong but seemingly hopeless. And this was why he chose to fight it. He fought for those who couldn’t do it by themselves, and he fought hoping to eradicate the screams of anguish and terror that continued to echo through his brain, haunting him in the middle of the night and leaving his heart aching with those memories, shredded and broken.
“If’n I ‘member rightly, there’s a canyon right over them hills there that’s a pretty good spot ta hole up…” Val said as he looked off to the southwest. Johnny followed his gaze and nodded his head in agreement. He remembered it well, had used it once or twice himself.
They circled around, quietly coming in downwind. Tying their horses, they came in on foot, bellied up the ridge under cover of the rocks and peered down below them. At the bottom of the canyon were the remains of a camp, empty now, but one that was recently used. Feeling secure in the fact they were alone, they advanced down into the canyon still in the cover of rocks.
As they reached the bottom came the assurance no one was there. Picking around the abandoned camp, they found evidence of careless activity. Broken whiskey bottles, discarded plunder, and supplies, no longer useful, were thrown on the ground, and all indicated that the occupants held nothing in regard and no care for the turmoil left in their wake.
Going to the mouth of the canyon, they saw tracks leading in a southerly direction, and as of one mind, they both turned away to retrieve the horses. This could lead them to the border crossing, and if they played their cards correctly, they could have a large piece of the puzzle in place before the inexperienced Captain Dixon arrived. While neither Johnny nor Val had anything against the captain personally, they both thought he was not the right man for this job. The more the two of them could take care of without him, the better and safer it would be for all concerned. Who in their right mind had assigned the Captain with this mission? It had not been thought through very well, but then, perhaps they had… The thought of a traitor in the ranks of the Army was growing stronger by the minute.
“Looks like they crossed over a time or two right here,” Val sighed as he observed the tracks leading directly to the Rio Grande. Johnny sat in the saddle, deep in thought as he studied the trail; he looked across the river, then west along the border. Val knew something going on in his amigo’s head but waited it out until Johnny was ready to talk. Finally, he turned to Val, his voice low and sure.
“There’s another crossing point somewhere. There ain’t enough tracks here ta be the only place they cross. We gotta find out where they intend ta raid an’ be there ta cut ‘em off. How do ya think we oughta do this, Val?” Johnny asked with a knowing smile.
Val waited a minute, then his eyes flashed, and he grinned ear to ear. “Oh, boy, Johnny, you ain’t learned your lesson very well, have ya? Ya remember the trouble ya got inta last time?”
Johnny laughed and dropped his head, looking at his hands. “Yeah, I do, but we gotta find out what the Rurales are plannin’ ta do.”
“Well, just what ‘m I s’posta tell Murdoch when ya get caught crossin’ over inta Mexico? Ya barely made it outta there alive last time, amigo! There hasta be a better way, Johnny. I can’t letcha do that again, ‘specially now. Ya got a family ta think ‘bout, Madrid ain’t alone no more. We gotta play by different rules than what we used back then.”
“Maybe, but we might not have any other choice.” Johnny turned Intimidar and decided to scout to the west for a few miles before they headed back. They didn’t have much time before Dixon, and the rest of his men would arrive, so there was no time to lose.
They almost missed it. The tracks were brushed out, making it next to impossible to see, but experience, the excellent teacher that it was, told both Johnny and Val here was another trail. The two horses stopped in unison as if one rider had control of them.
Johnny looked over to Val with his dazzling smile. It made Val laugh, and thankful, Just maybe, amigo, ya won’t hafta go ‘cross that border! The trail led off to the north-northwest toward Deming. The countryside was covered with the canyons and valleys offering a multitude of campsites, good water, and choice grazing. It was a paradise for illegal doings, and with little to no law, it left the ‘big dog’ to govern all.
“We need ta meet Dixon tamorrow, how’re we gonna handle it, amigo?” Val asked. He had a vague plan and knew that Johnny had something scurrying around in his brain, so between the two of them, they could come up with something that should work. Johnny thought for a minute, gathering all the fragments.
“I think ‘til we find out if there’s someone leakin’ information ta the Rurales, we need ta stay outta sight from the rest of the captain’s men. If they think we didn’t show up, there’s no way they’ll realize exactly how much we know an’ keepin’ ‘em in the dark might make ‘em easier ta control. The hard part’ll be convincing Dixon a that…” Johnny paused for a few minutes as possibilities ran through his mind. “Maybe it’s time ta bring ol’ Buck inta the plan. What’d ya think?”
Val smiled. “Why, I think that you’re usin’ that head for somethin’ else other’n a place ta keep your hat!”
<><><><>
“What d’ya say, Buck? Ya wanna give us a hand?” Val asked as they sat, quietly talking in the back of the saloon.
Buck’s eyes seemed to brighten at the question. He was a man that truly loved his occupation.
“Thought you’d never ask! I knew you was up ta somethin’. What’cha got goin’?” Colby asked, scooting his chair closer and lowered his voice.
“We need ta find out ‘bout the Rurales raidin’ here. There’s gonna be a Army captain an’ three of his men meetin’ us, an’ we’re s’posta be guidin’ an’ advisin’ ‘em, seein’s we got so much experience with this sort a thing.” Grinning, Val began to answer the anxious stream of questions that exploded from Colby.
Colby looked at Val then turned his gray eyes on Johnny. “You two workin’ with the Army?” Disbelief rolled from Buck as Johnny and Val chuckled.
“Kinda hard ta believe, but it happens ta be the truth. We’re doin’ it for a … favor. Let’s just leave it at that, but we gotta watch ourselves ‘cause there just might be someone passin’ information ta the Rurales an’ don’t know who it is. Seems like every time the Army goes ta round up any renegades, there ain’t no renegades there ta round up. The Army’s gettin’ a lotta bad information, so they can’t take care a the problem an’ in the meantime folks are dyin’.”
They could see the wheels in Buck’s head turning, and both Johnny and Val knew this had been a smart move. They knew Buck Colby as a good and honorable man, a man that knew how to fight, where the fight would be, and just possibly who would be involved. And, he hated the cold and calculated murdering that left death and disaster in its wake.
“I been hearin’ things for a while but didn’t put too much stock in them rumors, but with what you’re tellin’ me now, it kinda makes sense. Seems that there might be someone here, an American helpin’ the Rurales. Just rumors, mind ya, but with everythin’ you’re sayin’, it could be that there’s some truth to it.” Colby shook his head. If this turned out to have a shred of truth, he would personally see to it that the guilty party would pay and pay dearly.
The people here had already gone through too much, more than what was just and right. Children should not have to witness as their parents were murdered or taken away to be sold as slaves and grow up an orphan. Buck had seen too much of this, and it sickened him. He, like Johnny and Val, had witnessed those who were left alive as they were forced to pick up the shattered pieces of their former lives and try to go on living, if they could. Yes, it would stop if ol’ Buck Colby had anything to do with it.
Johnny and Val sat back in their chairs and watched the emotions careening around in Buck’s eyes. The sadness, rage, and pity reflected there told of love for this land and its people, and it was confirmed to them that they had made the right decision confiding in him.
“Alright, we need ta talk more ‘bout what ya know. Me an’ Johnny are gonna leave in a few minutes, don’t think it’s best ta talk any more ‘bout this here. Just wanted ta find out if’n ya had anythin’ goin’ an’ wanted ta help. Meet us at our camp in a coupla hours.” Directions were given, and they said goodbyes as if they were parting for good.
<><><><>
No one had followed him, he was sure, and Buck Colby entered the camp of Johnny Madrid and Val Crawford. Ground tying his horse, Buck walked into their camp, and Johnny handed him a cup of coffee, confirming that he, Johnny, had made it and not Val. Buck muttered his thanks, sat across the fire, then talking began in earnest.
“We found a coupla places where they’re comin’ ‘cross the border an’ a canyon where they been stayin’. There’s a brushed out trail leadin’ off ta the northwest, sorta leadin’ off toward Deming,” Val offered as Buck’s eyes turned cold.
”What?” Johnny asked as he saw the change come over Colby.
Leaning forward as he watched the steam from his cup float upward, he shrugged before answering, as if trying to get scrambled thoughts in order.
“Heard some talk that ol’ Jason Stafford was dealin’ with the Rurales. Up ta now, it was just rumor; now it looks like there might be somethin’ to it. He’s buyin’ up land faster’n it becomes available. The homesteads that are attacked by them renegades are left abandoned an’ I heard he’s buyin’ ‘em for pennies on the dollar. Folks ain’t even cold in the ground an’ he’s got their land.”
Val and Johnny thought for a minute. The identical vile thought sparked in each of their minds.
“Hey, amigo, ya wanna go see if Stafford needs any ‘help’?”
A cold grin spread across Johnny’s face as he thought about getting a stranglehold on the bastard in the middle of this ugly war. But there was a question that bothered him, was this tied in somehow with the Army?
The three men talked late into the day, laying out and refining their plans, tweaking and revising for the best possible outcome. Much would be played out as they went along, but the biggest obstacle, of course, would be getting Captain Dixon to go along with them. The more they thought about the Captain, the clearer it became that he was in over his head.
He had no experience with these types of matters; they all wondered how he came to be in charge of this campaign. He would need their help in guiding him through this if he and his men were to come out of this alive. The problem was, he had to be convinced on that issue, and Val knew he had his hands full. This was going to be his job— to handle Captain Dixon. Johnny and Buck were to ride to Jason Stafford’s ranch and try to hire on to see what they could dig up on that end.
<><><><>
Johnny and Buck cut northwest in hopes of picking up the trail left by whoever had been crossing the border and before too long hoof prints were visible with no attempts to brush them away. They followed them for several miles, and Johnny was sure that he and Buck were on Stafford land. He was also confident their arrival was not yet known. Everything was coming back to him. In his mind’s eye, he could see the main road and knew they needed to appear as if they’d come from town or anywhere but the border before they got to Stafford’s ranch.
<><><><>
“Hold it right there!” The sound of the shell pumped into the rifle’s chamber was loud in the dry morning air. Johnny and Buck pulled to a halt as they neared the gate and were greeted by a rough, gravelly voice as they looked down the barrel of a Winchester.
“What business ya got here?” The unfriendly voice demanded.
“Lookin’ for work. Mr. Stafford hirin’?” Johnny asked as he sat in the saddle and met the cold eyes of the armed man in front of him.
“Who’s askin’?” came the icy response.
“Madrid, Johnny Madrid an’ this here’s Buck Colby. Stafford hirin’ or not?” Johnny asked, equally cold. The barrel of the rifle wavered a bit, and the eye lifted from the sight but didn’t leave Johnny’s face. Unlocking the gate, the man motioned Johnny and Buck inside.
“Mr. Stafford might wanna talk ta ya. C’mon, this way.”
<><><><>
Val watched as Captain Dixon and his three soldiers rode into Las Cruces. They stopped at the hotel and tied the horses at the hitch rail. The three men went inside as the Captain continued down the street to the general store and began his ‘search for a hat’. Val entered, got the Captain’s attention, and the two men slipped out the back door unnoticed. The clerk, an older woman with hair pulled severely back in a tight bun, and sagging jowls hanging from a chubby face chatted with a local about the weather, Mrs. McCain’s lumbago, and the set of twins born recently that were the talk of the town.
Once in the alley and away from other eyes, Val laid the information on the table. “Johnny’s checkin’ on some other leads we got. We mighta found out somethin’ useful, but till we can get it verified, you an’ your boys can check out down along the border. I can tell ya where ta start, but I still don’t want your men ta know ‘bout us. Have they been askin’ ‘bout your guides?”
“Yes, and I feel that keeping them in the dark is the wrong thing to do,” Captain Dixon objected.
Val shrugged; he understood the Captain’s position, but they had no choice until they could prove that all three men were clean, and the only way to do that was to keep going as they were until they would catch the traitor in the act.
“I know where you’re comin’ from, Cap’n, but for now, it can’t be helped.” Val watched Dixon closely. He was troubled and nervous; he looked worried and wasn’t able to stand still.
“Tell me, Cap’n, how long ya been out in this part a the country?” Val asked, digging for more information, information he wasn’t sure about but strongly suspected.
“I arrived at Fort Collins only three weeks ago and was sent to Fort Riverton last week. This is all happening so fast, and I want to do my best here, but fear I may not be as prepared as I should. Up until now, I’ve been sitting behind a desk.”
The man sounded as if he wasn’t sure what the hell happened to him. Val took in the nervous eyes, the rapid breathing, and the sweat beading on his forehead. He read fear on this man. Not fear of engaging with the enemy but fear of lack of confidence. That could prove to be deadly.
“So how long have ya been a captain?” Please. Lord, don’t let him tell me he just got promoted…
“In all honesty, Mr. Crawford, I just got promoted…”
Oh, fuck!
<><><><>
“Well, Mr. Madrid, I am delighted that you are still among the living!” Boomed Jason Stafford.
Johnny remembered his dislike for the man.
Stafford was full of himself and overly confident; he fed off other’s weaknesses. He wanted to be feared, therefore he thought himself respected. But he did remember the rebellious nature of Madrid and wondered if it had been tamed somewhat over these last few years. He scrutinized Johnny as if the young man would give something away. He tried his glare, but it didn’t have the desired effect. It was a standoff, a war of wills. Johnny Madrid was ice standing before him, and Stafford could not read him at all.
“Kinda pleases me, too. You hirin’, Mr. Stafford? If ya ain’t, we’ll be goin’.” Johnny met the cold, deep-set eyes, eyes that wanted to bore through a person and make him submit. But Madrid didn’t back down, and Jason Stafford knew at that moment that this young man would fit in just fine, yes, indeed, just fine!
It was late in the day, as Johnny and Buck claimed their places in the bunkhouse and settled in. They would start work tomorrow and knew that they would not be privy to any pertinent information, so they would have to be careful going about getting that information. They kept their eyes and ears open and did pick up some useful details. They heard that Stafford and two of his men would be leaving the ranch in the morning, going southeast. Southeast… Johnny thought. He didn’t believe in coincidences, and this could be something… Johnny and Val had planned for Val to watch the goings-on at the ranch from a secure spot and would report to Captain Dixon.
The Captain had his hands full directing his men, but with a suggestion from Val, Dixon ordered the men to go on patrols and, of course, keep out of sight. The men did ask about the guides they were to have met up with but were told that plans had changed, and for a few days, they would be on their own. They would handle the situation themselves, so no more questions.
Captain Dixon fervently prayed he was doing the right thing by keeping his men clueless and working with the two men he didn’t know.
“Captain, I need to send a wire,” Sergeant Mason spoke. They would be leaving Las Cruces within the hour.
The Captain looked suddenly suspicious. “Explain, Sergeant,” he ordered bluntly. I can hardly think the Sergeant is a traitor…
For a split second, Mason’s eyes were panicked, then regained composure.
Damn! I’m under orders to keep Lt. Stevens informed of our movements down here… How do I explain to the Captain and not let him know I’m working undercover… Something is going on, and I need to know what to do. The change of horses and different weapons is certainly out of the ordinary. Lt. Stevens thinks that the Captain is selling information to the Rurales, what do I do now? The sergeant regretted accepting the mission and had been sworn to secrecy to protect the clandestine activity. The Captain outranked Lt. Stevens, but it had been impressed upon him that this was a very delicate operation and required the utmost secrecy. Think, Sarge! He screamed at himself…
“With all due respect, this is a personal matter, Captain.” Hoping the answer would suffice and the Captain would be satisfied with his response, he waited.
Dixon watched the man closely looking for anything unusual, or that that would give him away. His eyes, just for a second… I have to watch this man… Recalling to mind the words spoken by Lancer and Crawford, he did the only thing he could.
“Denied, Sergeant. We leave immediately! Get your mounts and report here in five minutes!”
<><><><>
The Captain entered the alley and was startled at the voice that broke through his nervous, troubled brain.
“Cap’n, over here.” Val’s call, although low, the sound jarred the man, and Val, again, mentally shrugged at the thought of working with a green officer. Questions were mounting quickly, too many questions. This was not a good sign.
“Mr. Crawford, I am beginning to suspect my sergeant of leaking information. I just gave them orders to get their mounts, and he asked permission to send a wire before we left, said it was of a personal nature. I denied his request.”
“It could be somethin’. If he asks again, maybe ya should let him an’ we’ll see where he sends it. So, you’re leavin’ right now?” Val asked, deciding on the best way to watch the ranch and know where the Captain and his men were going.
“Yes, and I’d better get back to them.”
Val sympathized with the man, working out of his element, but he appeared determined to do the right thing. Who the hell put this guy in charge? The thought again crossed his mind.
“’ K, Cap’n, I’ll try ta stick close, but I gotta keep an eye on Johnny, too.”
The Captain looked at Val with surprise. “Have you heard anything from Mr. Lancer yet?” Dixon asked, not yet realizing that he was kept out of the loop.
Val took in the curious eyes before he answered. “Nope, not yet, but I ‘spect he’ll be checkin’ in real soon. I’ll letcha know, Cap’n. Ya better get back ta your men now. Good luck, Cap’n an’… don’t worry none. You’re doin’ fine.” Val gave him an encouraging smile, which was not returned.
“For now…” Val mumbled under his breath
The Captain was worried, and it was written all over his face. Dixon walked away.
<><><><>
For the next couple of days, both Johnny and Buck were assigned duties around the house, barn, and outbuildings, or other menial tasks that the new hires were given. New men weren’t trusted, and they were under scrutiny until the time Mr. Stafford felt it safe to bring them into his inner circle. Until that time came, there were things at the ranch considered off-limits to the new men.
But, Johnny wasn’t a new man; he’d worked for Stafford before and had left the ranch after the range war in good graces with the man. This only confirmed to Johnny that there was, indeed, something going on that he wasn’t privy to. He was kept away until Stafford felt it safe to take him into the trusted circle, and depending on how Madrid fared, Mr. Stafford was confident that Madrid just might prove to be an asset.
As Johnny crossed the corral, he was called to the fence rails as the foreman, Pete Guthrie, waved him over. He handed Johnny a list of supplies to purchase in town.
“Mr. Stafford wants ya ta take the buckboard an’ pick up these things in town. Put ‘em on the ranch account an’ ya might as well pick up the ranch mail long as you’re there.”
Johnny took the list and shoved it in his pocket, then turned and entered the barn to hitch the team to the wagon. A few minutes later, he was on the road to Deming. How much time could he waste before he would have to abandon this charade and approach this from a different angle? He wondered. But for now, he’d work on the Bar S and hoped something would jump out at him, something… unusual for a cattle ranch.
For the first three days at Stafford’s ranch, Johnny and Buck mucked out the barn, rode the fence line in midday after the crew that set out in the morning came back, now suddenly it was Johnny and Buck to go back out to finish in the hottest part of the day. A test? Would these two complete the task assigned or would they simply not come back thinking the chore was beneath them? Well, they’d seen to the fence line, and there were more ‘lowly’ jobs that they’d tackled but all the while they had been watching for anything out of the ordinary. They did pick up on one incident the day before.
Two of Jason’s men galloped their horses into the yard, ran up the steps of the front porch, and barged into the house. Using the stealth and prowess acquired in his line of work, Johnny found a reason to be within earshot as he entered the house carrying armload after armload of firewood to stock the kitchen and various wood boxes throughout the home. Not hearing any full sentences, he did pick up the phrases ‘four men on horseback’ and ‘looked like soldiers ta me’ and finally ‘headed southwest ta the border’. It was enough to raise suspicions, especially when he heard Stafford say gruffly to keep them under surveillance. Yup, somethin’s goin’ on…
So, now he found himself headed to town and wondered if he would see Val, who was to be dividing time between the house and keeping in touch with Dixon. He’d taken his time getting the supplies and had something to eat at the saloon. After his second beer, he picked up the ranch mail and headed back to the Bar S.
Stopping at the small river to let the team drink, he heard the signal call and knew that Val was near. Their meeting would be brief, only to let the other know what was happening on their end. Val told Johnny about the Sergeant wanting to send a personal wire and where Dixon was going to be, and Johnny told of the incident with Stafford’s riders the day before that spotted what was probably the Captain and his men.
Val smiled when he saw the wagon loaded with supplies. “They gotcha doin’ shit work, huh?”
Johnny laughed a bit but with a sparkle in his eyes as he held up the mail.
“Not likely he’d be so stupid as ta make any communications like this but can’t hurt ta see what’s here.” And Val returned his smile.
As it turned out, Mr. Stafford was a very busy man. There were several letters, one of which had flowing, feminine writing, and three newspapers, one from Silver City. Johnny looked closely at the postmarks on the letters and smiled.
“What’dya make a this, Val, this one’s marked Fort Collins…” Johnny said as he held up the missive. The writing was neat but bold, most likely a man’s hand.
“Well, it ain’t like we can read it, so that’s gonna hafta wait. Beats the hell outta me why he’s getting’ anything from Fort Collins, though. Makes it seem mighty suspicious,” Val groused.
“Val, that Captain say anythin’ more ta make ya think this is a setup? Just seems ta me that sendin’ him out on a mission like this one’s plain suicide. He’s got no experience out here an’ orderin’ him out ta take care a bunch a renegade Rurales is just plain stupid… Unless it’s all for show…” Johnny couldn’t shake the feeling that the Captain was not supposed to make it back.
Val shrugged. “Yeah, I been thinkin’ ‘bout that. It’s lookin’ more an’ more like he ain’t ‘sposta be comin’ back.” They both looked at the letter postmarked from Fort Collins. Now it was Johnny’s turn to shrug, and Val read the gesture and knew what was flitting through his amigo’s mind.
“Now just a damn minute there, Johnny, ya know that’s gonna get ya shot if ya do that!” Val’s eyes sparkled, and a tug at the corner of his mouth indicated a smile lurking there but then turned serious as he knew what Johnny was going to do.
Johnny met Val’s concerned gaze. “It’s the only way ta find out for sure, Val…”
<><><><>
Jason Stafford was burning mad. His blood boiled in his veins as he read the letter from Fort Collins. That idiot! How dare he jeopardize this operation! He knows that under no circumstances was he to make contact directly with this ranch! Stafford tore the letter open and read the desperate words as they jumped off the page, alerting the mighty Jason Stafford to a real and potentially deadly threat.
Have received word that men reached Las Cruces but no contact since. Suspect the Sergeant has been compromised; however, he is still under the impression that he is working undercover. Had to warn you as quickly as I could of a possible breach.
“’Scuse me, Mr. Stafford, didn’t mean ta interrupt your work. I’ll just put this kindlin’ in the box an’ be outta your hair.” Johnny said as he walked past Stafford with the wood and loaded the bin with no second glance. He didn’t have to take another look; he’d read Stafford’s face the split second he walked in as the surprise spread across the weathered, wrinkled skin before he could rein it in, and Johnny saw it, plain as the shock that sparked in the dark, mean eyes.
Acting as if he’d not seen anything Johnny deposited the kindling in the bin and stood to leave but stopped and met Stafford’s glare that was once more under control and said, “Mr. Stafford, I seen some tracks that was headin’ off ta the northwest when I was bringin’ those supplies back. Just off the road by the big rock where the road takes that sharp turn. Jus’ thought you’d like ta know… Didn’t look like anythin’ that shoulda been there an’ looks like someone tried ta brush ‘em out. Ya havin’ any trouble that I can help ya with?” Johnny’s eyes held the contact and knew that Stafford was reading what he could in them.
“Do you think that I am having any issues, Mr. Madrid?” Stafford countered a bit too defensively, Johnny thought.
Madrid smiled slightly, then assumed his role as a loyal employee. “Dunno. Ya do look a little… troubled, though. But that’s what I do… remember that.” Johnny replied in his soft tone. He walked past the man and took the chance as he quickly looked behind him only to see Stafford tuck the paper in a pigeon hole in the desk. He then walked out the door.
Stafford was torn. How many years had it been? Madrid turns up here at the ranch looking for work, was this coincidence? And it was difficult to read the man. Is he genuinely loyal to me, it’s hard to tell as his audacity always did tend to be unnerving… However, as Stafford thought more, he decided that he could, indeed, have a use for Madrid’s talents. He was aware that the Rurales in Mexico still had Madrid listed as a threat to the state; he also knew that the renegade Rurales paid more attention to where the money was coming from. They would no doubt turn Madrid in to their ‘authorities’… Unless they would gain more financially through Stafford. Yes, this could work out very nicely, indeed!
<><><><>
Captain Dixon and his men made their camp in a secluded canyon and settled in for the night. He’d had difficulties keeping his men in the dark, their questions were left unanswered, and they were starting to have their doubts about his reasoning and abilities, especially Sergeant Mason. He had been wondering about this whole mission. He’d never worked undercover before. Did the Lieutenant have any idea what was going on? The Sergeant was having second, third, and fourth thoughts about what he was doing here. Not much about this mission was making sense at all.
<><><><>
“Johnny, whatcha doin’?” Buck whispered as he woke and watched as Johnny pulled on his boots.
Johnny put his fingers to his lips then answered, “Outhouse,” in a low tone but signaled to Buck that he was going to the house.
Buck knew he would be responsible for watching anyone that would follow him. He nodded his head as Johnny slipped silently out the door as if he was made of smoke, a spirit. Can’t question a spirit that ain’t there.
Madrid kept to the shadows as he made his way around to the kitchen door in the back, jimmied the lock with his knife, and slipped into the house.
Johnny stood quietly, listening to the silence and waited for several minutes, making sure it was as it seemed… asleep for the night. Satisfied there would be no problem, he made his way through the house to the study where Stafford conducted his business. He paused to listen again, then lit a match. The flicker from the light evened out to emit a steady glow as Johnny quickly searched the desk where he thought Stafford had stuffed the letter he received from Fort Collins. Rifling through the stacks of paper, he checked all envelopes, then returned them where he found them.
The ranch ledgers lay on the top of the desk, but having no reason to scrutinize the columns of figures, Johnny ignored the books and concentrated on looking for the letter. He reached for a small bunch of notes, and a missive fluttered to the desktop landing face up, postmarked Fort Collins. Johnny picked it up and quietly slid the message out. This was what he needed, and he read the few lines.
It was confirmed at that moment, Jason Stafford was up to his neck in illegal dealings with the renegade Rurales and there was a breach in the Army’s security. Apparently, Captain Dixon’s sergeant was deceived into taking an ‘undercover’ job. But who was Stafford working with in the Army, and how was it tied in with the Rurales? The answers to these questions would have to wait.
Johnny re-read the letter and put it back where he’d found it. He didn’t know for sure if Stafford had seen him watching, but Johnny knew he couldn’t take the message… not yet anyway. He made sure that everything on the desk was as it was when he entered the study, blew out the lamp, and silently made his way back through the house and melted into the shadows, leaving just as he’d come.
Johnny had no sooner left by the back kitchen door when Stafford walked into the study, knowing that someone had been there. He smelled the smoke from the snuffed wick of the oil lamp and felt the glass of the chimney; it had not cooled off, and whoever had been here had just left.
Quickly he checked for the communication from Fort Collins, that idiot Lt. Stevens! Stafford thought again but found the letter just where he’d left it. Maybe it had not been found, but he couldn’t take that chance. He then went to the window to watch for movement and saw nothing but… he deeply suspected Madrid. Madrid brought the mail from town and had been here in the study, surprising Stafford as he read the note, and Madrid and Colby were only recently hired. Had someone gotten to him first and is paying him for information? Stafford didn’t know but was certainly going to find out. Maybe he would have to rethink Madrid’s usefulness as an employee of the ranch… But he could always be used as bait.
<><><><>
“I don’t care how you do it or what you have to do! Just watch him!” Up until this moment, everything had been running smoothly, and it still could be, but in his gut, Jason Stafford felt a niggling feeling that something was about to go drastically wrong. He didn’t actually see Madrid in his study rummaging through his desk, but he felt that the gunfighter had been there, and he would find out one way or the other. Either way, the Southwest would be rid of one gunhawk…
<><><><>
Johnny knew he was followed, and he knew why. The only thing he could do now would be to get to Buck and Val and tell them to lay low. He had an opportunity to let Buck know what he’d found in Stafford’s study and where it was, but shortly after that, Johnny was summoned by Pete Guthrie for his orders for the day. Chances were that things could get a little dicey from here on out, and they all would have to be ready for whatever came their way, and that included Dixon.
The Captain was about to be initiated into the fine art of fighting the enemy. As Johnny checked the fence on the extreme southeast side of the Stafford ranch, he kept vigilant for any sign of trouble. He knew that Val should be close but gave no indication that contact should be made. Luckily, Val caught the subtle warning. Pausing to wipe away the sweat before it stung his eyes, Johnny saw the movement up on the ridge to the north and knew that he wouldn’t be alone for much longer.
Jason Stafford, Val Crawford, and Captain Dixon all had one thing in common. At that precise moment, they were all thinking about Johnny Madrid or Lancer. Stafford was waiting to hear from Guthrie if he’d been successful, Val was wondering where they’d taken Johnny, and Dixon was wondering how the heck all this would tie in together with Lancer not having been seen by him since… how long has it been, now?
And there was a fourth man with Johnny on his mind. Buck Colby had kept out of everyone’s way, hiding in plain sight he liked to call it. He knew something had changed, and Johnny had asked him to see the deed through should something happen to him.
Buck watched as a man came to the house, and suddenly Stafford left with him riding fast out of the yard headed southeast. Wasn’t that the direction that Madrid was sent this morning? With a demeanor that spoke of hard work, a man his employer could count on, Buck Colby stayed around the house diligently stacking wood and hauling water without having to be told, acting as if he should be there and slipped into the house completely unnoticed.
<><><><>
Val waited at the designated spot for Buck to show, knowing that it could take a while for him to get away from the ranch unseen. Colby’s knack for blending in and not drawing any unwanted attention proved beneficial. Val had only just sat down under the tree when Buck rode up.
“We got trouble, Val! Stafford took Johnny an’ headed ta the border after he figured Johnny was snoopin’ in the house last night. There was a letter from someone at Fort Collins ta Stafford that Johnny read an’ it said Dixon’s sergeant is under the impression he’s workin’ undercover, prob’bly gonna set up the Cap’n. Don’t think the sergeant knows what’s goin’ on, but he’s definitely passin’ information ta Fort Collins. Johnny told me where it was an after Stafford left ta get Johnny, I got inta the house ta see if I could get it, but it wasn’t where it shoulda been.” Buck looked into Val’s eyes as Val sat and contemplated options.
“That would explain why the Cap’n was sent here ta do something he wasn’t qualified ta do… Someone at the fort is in cahoots with Stafford I’m bettin’. How many men are with Johnny now?”
“Only three,” Buck answered, and Val’s smile grew.
“Three, huh? Boy, they don’t know what a mess they’re in for, do they?” And Buck returned the grin.
<><><><>
“We got a problem, Cap’n,” Val said before his horse even stopped. Val watched as Dixon visibly paled and quickly composed himself.
“What is it, Mr. Crawford?”
“Stafford’s men took Johnny an’ headed south ta the border. My guess is Stafford’s turnin’ ‘im over ta the Rurales. This could turn either way. It could be a chance ta catch some of ‘em, or it could be that Johnny’s as good as dead. The Rurales’ll kill ‘im if they get their hands on ‘im.” Val spoke as calmly as he could. “There’s still a chance that we can find out what’s goin’ on. There’s another man at the ranch that should be tryin’ ta make contact with me taday. Ya notice anything more ‘bout yer sergeant?”
“He watches me like a hawk, and he’s getting more upset that he doesn’t know what we’re doing. I am strongly suspecting he is an informant or at least knows something is going on. I just can’t figure who he would be reporting to!”
Val started to feel for this man who obviously wanted to do his job but also realized that he was painfully unqualified to do it. He was coming to the embarrassing conclusion that he’d been used.
“Jus’ keep this in mind, Cap’n, if we can put a end ta these raids, it’ll more’n likely stop any future raids until them Rurales find out what’s what. In the meantime, maybe the Army can get more troops down here ta patrol the border an’ prevent anythin’ more from happenin’.”
<><><><>
Johnny sat on his horse, hands tied tightly to the saddle horn as he tried to gather what information he could, tried to make sense out of the fragments and facts. Was Stafford working with the Rurales? Johnny was beginning to think so. Them Rurales come here an’ kill farmers, easy enough targets; they raid an’ steal then what? Stafford comes in an’ buys up all the land for pennies on the dollar?
He remembered the small canyon hideout that he and Val came across a few days after they arrived. The thought occurred to him that Stafford was letting the Rurales hideout on his property. They would be safe from prying eyes, and within easy reach for either more raiding or the ability to run back across the Rio Grande on short notice and with an informant inside the Army, Stafford would know when and where the Army would be looking and notify the renegades.
Nice cozy little setup ya got, Stafford. Too bad ya ain’t gonna be ‘round ta enjoy it too much longer… Now the pieces fit together.
Johnny concentrated on how he was going to get out of the mess he found himself in. Yup, this could be bad… He had watched as his captors came down off the ridge, and Jason Stafford was high in his saddle looking very pleased with himself as they approached Johnny toiling in the hot sun. The evil smile crawled across Stafford’s mouth as the dark eyes took on a threatening glare.
Johnny kept working as they neared. He knew what was going to happen, and he also knew that it was unnerving for these men to watch as he seemed unaffected with their presence. He would not show them any fear.
He looked up from securing the wire to the post as they surrounded him. The dust stirred up from the horses’ hooves billowed thick and heavy in the air and stuck to the sweat on Johnny’s body.
“What can I do for ya, Mr. Stafford?” Johnny asked with a small grin. This gesture, too, displayed the audacity that Madrid was known for and lent credence to the chilling tales of his audacity and fearless manner.
Now, Stafford looked ready to explode as he puffed up, giving the appearance he was an intimidating force to be reckoned with.
It made Johnny’s smile grow, and he shrugged.
“I demand to know why you were in my house last night, Madrid!” Stafford thundered.
An opportunity to needle Stafford laid at his feet, and he couldn’t resist; Johnny knew he was found out, so what the hell?
“Don’t know what yer talkin’ about, Mr. Stafford. The only place I went last night was the outhouse ta take a piss an’ unless ya run yer ranch from the shitter, I got no idea what you’re implyin’.”
The words, spoken so innocently, came close to making Pete Guthrie laugh, but he managed to pull himself together.
“Get on your horse, Madrid!” Stafford ordered as Pete leaned down and took Johnny’s pistol from his holster. His horse was brought to him, and he mounted as Pete tied his hands to the saddle horn. Stafford turned and galloped back to his ranch as the three men and Johnny headed to the border.
<><><><>
Val boldly walked into Dixon’s camp as they were setting up for the night. He read the shock on the Captain’s face as he sat down, the other three men drew their weapons and aimed them at Val’s head. He reached over and helped himself to the coffee that was sitting on the fire.
“State you’re business here!” the Sergeant sputtered as he suspiciously watched the scruffy man.
Dixon interrupted. “Stand down, Sergeant, this is one of the guides, he’s working with us. I will vouch for him.”
Val took a sip of coffee as he eyed the sergeant making the man nervous under the intense stare.
“An’ I might just ask you the same question there, Sarge. Just what is your business here?” Val saw the twitch and knew the man was going to lie; after all, he did think he was working undercover to expose the Captain. Val started to caress the butt of his pistol, and the motion was not lost on Sergeant Mason. Val’s eyes never left Mason’s face, as he spoke to Dixon.
“Stafford’s got Johnny an’ is takin’ him across the border. He’ll be dead if he ain’t already so we need ta get movin’ if we wanna cut the head off the snake, so the body dies. Meanin’ we can use this attempted rescue ta maybe catch us some renegade Rurales. Stafford’s workin’ with ‘em an’ Johnny found out. Stafford’s also workin’ with someone at Fort Collins… Got a note from the fort sayin’ that your sergeant here thinks he’s workin’ undercover keepin’ an eye on you, Cap’n, an’ reportin’ what he can back ta the fort…” Still watching Mason’s eyes, Val read in them the reaction that confirmed all was true.
Dixon stood in complete shock then turned to his sergeant as rage flooded through his body.
<><><><>
They stopped just north of the border at a small box canyon and made camp. Johnny was pulled from the horse and pushed to the ground as the three men started the fire and heated food.
Looking up through lowered lashes, Johnny scouted around, getting an idea of his surroundings. Not much here… There was a shallow round hole about three feet deep and eight feet across. In the center was an iron stake pounded into the ground. At the top of the stake was a chain five or so feet long, and attached to the end of the chain was a shackle. Johnny knew this would play a part during his time in the canyon.
The men ate and did not feed him as he sat just out of the fire’s warmth. Nor did they offer him any water. He sat calmly, watching them, and sensing their nervousness; one would glance up and see his stare and would quickly look away. Inwardly Johnny smiled as he watched them watching him, and he could see the trepidation in their eyes. When he finished his meal, Pete Guthrie stood, and without a word, he left camp. He rummaged in his saddlebags a moment then, with something clutched in his hands, the man walked out of the firelight. Trip Savage got up from his place at the fire and walked to Johnny, giving his foot a vicious kick.
“On yer feet, gunhawk!” He said as he pulled his pistol and aimed it at Johnny’s head. Without a word, Johnny got to his feet, and a small grin played at the corners of his mouth. Savage motioned Johnny over to the pit. Johnny stood, staring at the man.
“Get in there an’ hand me that cuff!”
Yup, it’s what I thought… Johnny jumped into the hole and picked up the cuff as Savage grabbed it and roughly snapped it around Johnny’s left wrist then cut the rope that secured his hands.
Mierda, alright, Val, any time now…
“Might as well get comf’terble, Madrid, yer gonna be there a while… but ya will have some comp’ny!” Savage laughed as he tucked the key into his shirt pocket. Half an hour later, Guthrie walked into camp with an old flour sack filled with something… Something moving…
Guthrie quickly upended the sack as two large distressed diamondback rattlers were dumped into the pit next to Johnny, and he promptly sidestepped, narrowly missing strikes from both. Yup, Val, where the hell are ya, amigo?
Johnny knew he would have to bide his time for a while, the serpents were, having been cruelly disturbed, ready to defend themselves with a quick strike as their shiny black tongues flicked out of their mouths tasting the air. Immediately they focused their attention on Johnny, and they coiled, rising in the strike position, the slender, black split forks dancing as if hungry and anxious to taste flesh.
He stood still, not daring to move, and this did not please the men watching the fascinating scene playing out before them. They wanted to see Madrid panic, lose the fight driven persona, and they all wanted to watch him break and beg. But instead, he stood with calm resolve.
Trip Savage, Guthrie’s right-hand man, was chagrined. He felt cheated out of the entertainment. He expected that Madrid would start to beg for help, and when that didn’t happen, he drew his pistol firing off a shot into the ground an inch from Madrid’s boot to make him move. He wanted to watch as the deadly fangs sank into Johnny Madrid’s flesh, and he wanted to see Madrid writhe in agony as the poison flooded his system, paralyzing his internal organs and slowly shut him down, resulting in a painful and torturous death. But… that didn’t happen either.
Johnny did not move, not a muscle; he wasn’t surprised at Trip’s antagonistic behavior and smiled to himself when Guthrie cursed the man for the attack. The concern was not that it threatened Madrid, but the sound would carry through the night air and be heard for miles.
Johnny’s attention was on the vipers, still ‘standing’, wavering in front of him with the ever-present flicking tongues. At Johnny’s failure to move, the snakes lowered their massive heads. They uncoiled to slither away and find what cover they could from the dropping temperatures until the sun would warm them again, and then they would be on the hunt. This was going to be a long, long night for Madrid, much to the delight of the other men who looked on in evil enjoyment.
As the snakes eventually crawled off to the other side of the pit looking for shelter, Johnny sat on the ground in his ‘third’ of the hole. He rested his back against the rough side and leaned his head into the crumbling dirt. Would he be able to sleep? No, he thought not, but he could rest.
Appearing to shut his eyes, he could watch through his lashes as the men settled in their bedrolls for the night. Occasionally turning their sight in his direction, Johnny could see a few shivers as they watched him. What was going on in their minds? Were they putting themselves in his place? How would they handle being chained in a pit with two five-foot snakes? Johnny smiled as he saw the fear in their eyes. He might be able to use that fear…
<><><><>
The movement beside him jolted him awake; how had he managed to drop off to sleep anyway? He was cold, more than cold; the desert night air chilled him to the bone, but it was the thing sliding over his hand that had snapped him into consciousness. However, he caught himself and didn’t move; if he had, he would have sustained a fatal bite. So he forced himself to remain motionless and watched as the snake stopped to lay lengthwise alongside his leg. All Johnny could do was to stay quiet and hope that the snake would move away before his captors saw it beside him.
The late-night moon shown brightly as it lit up the desert, and in that light, Johnny watched his ‘cellmate’ as it lay against his leg in the dirt. The colors were bright, shiny after just having shed its skin, and it was, indeed, a thing of beauty, deadly but beautiful. Johnny almost laughed when he thought it would look nice wrapped around the neck of one of his captors. He then saw the snake begin to move; its body started to coil as it settled beside his right boot, and then, out of nowhere, it raised its head in Johnny’s direction, and the black tongue flicked out, tasting the air and it struck.
<><><><>
Val checked the bindings around the sergeant’s wrists. The man refused to talk, and Dixon had no choice but to put him under arrest. Corporals Riley and Cooper had taken their watch, and now Val had his. He eyed Mason and wondered what was going through the soldier’s mind. Retrieving a cup of coffee from the pot on the fire, Val came to stand at Mason’s side. Mason looked up with a defiant glare, and Val could only shrug. Slowly he stooped to level his own blazing eyes to Mason’s face.
As Val held the cup in one hand, his other slipped down to his boot and extracted a large knife, the blade shining wickedly in the moonlight. He idly fingered the edge as he spoke.
“If so much as one hair on Johnny’s Lancer’s head is harmed I’m gonna slit your throat from there,” and Val touched the point of the blade to Mason’s neck “ta there!” and he moved the sharp point to the other side, and this time he applied a bit of pressure, enough to produce a drop of blood. “Ya don’t talk, and yer gonna be dead, Soldier, an’ if I don’t do it, the Army will. They don’t take too kindly to traitors…” Val stood to walk away.
“I’m no traitor! I’m working undercover!” Mason frantically whispered. As he’d sat there most of the night, many things had run through his head. Val and Buck talked freely about the note from Fort Collins, and Val had watched Mason’s eyes. To the man’s credit, they didn’t reveal much, so it was time for Val to lay the proverbial cards on the table.
“’M gonna tell ya somethin’, Sarge, Johnny Lancer an’ me are here as a favor to the governor of California. Your governor in New Mexico asked for help knowin’ that me an’ Johnny spent a lotta time hereabouts. Now, I can prove my story cuz I got my letter from Steve Bronson right here…” Val removed his message from his pocket and unfolded it; he even lit a match enabling Mason to read it if the campfire wasn’t providing sufficient light.
Mason skimmed over the writing and swallowed hard. He didn’t know what he should do. Lt. Stevens at the fort had impressed upon Mason how critical this mission was. They had to catch Dixon in the act of betraying them, and no one could know what was going on. But that letter from Governor Bronson was real.
<><><><>
Johnny looked at the small puddle of venom that dripped off his leather calzoneras. He slowed his breathing and felt his heart decrease to a normal rate. The fangs of the snake hit perfectly on one of the silver conchos on his thigh that studded the Mexican jeans, and one fang broke. It would quickly grow back in a week or so, the snake was not harmed, and he could hunt successfully and survive with only one. Johnny blew out a breath as he watched the snake slither to the other side of the pit.
He looked over to the sleeping men around the fire, wishing he would soon be able to take revenge. Where the hell are ya, Val? Between the three bloodthirsty men that held him, the two rattlesnakes he was sleeping with, and the Rurales that would no doubt be making an appearance very soon, Johnny knew his life expectancy was cut to hours.
There was nothing on Earth like it, he thought as his mind drifted to riding Barranca, letting the horse run full out, the wind blowing through his hair and clearing his mind. Johnny wondered what Barranca was doing at this moment. He hoped that Jelly was fulfilling his promise, giving the horse extra grain and his treat of carrot or apple every day. A tiny smile turned up the corners of his mouth as he remembered Scott observing that Johnny spoiled the horse, but then Scott’s horse didn’t come when he whistled or buck anyone off his back that Scott didn’t want to ride him. Remmie, short for Remington, was a good horse, just not as smart as Barranca…
“Well, I’m glad ta see ya enjoyin’ yourself, Madrid,” Guthrie said as he neared the edge of the pit. Johnny looked up with a smile still in place and met Pete’s eyes. Again, there was no fear in Madrid, and Guthrie felt a shiver crawl down his spine, making Johnny’s smile grow larger.
Shrugging, Johnny spoke. “Yeah, ain’t too bad. Company’s better down here…”
With that remark, Guthrie bent, picking up several small rocks and started to throw them at the snakes, interrupting their rest. Again agitated, they began to coil and assumed their aggressive striking stance, complete with the flicking black tongues and rattling tail segments. Pete let out with a vicious laugh as Madrid sat still, not moving.
“Let’s see how ya like yer comp’ny now, half-breed!” He howled as a snake lunged for Johnny. It wasn’t the singled fanged snake. It was the snake that had a full supply of venom in its body just waiting to sink the loaded fangs into Johnny’s leg. The larger one that had struck before would need more time before he would have a lethal dose built up, but the one headed for Johnny now was ready to inject a full load of the poison and looked like he was about to complete his mission with a vengeance.
Johnny leaped to his feet in a blur of motion, the chain on his wrist rattling loudly, drawing the other two men over to the pit. Trip Savage and Sonny Terrell were betting on when and where Madrid would get bitten and how long it would take him to convulse and die. Guthrie simply stood and watched the entertainment.
Johnny seemed to disregard the larger snake as he kept out of striking distance of the other, slightly smaller snake’s reach. Guthrie wondered if Johnny was even aware that the larger snake was there, but then Guthrie did not know that the snake had already ejected the poison it had and was not yet prepared for another lethal bite, another bite, yes, but not one life-threatening.
As Johnny avoided the irate diamondback intent on stalking his prey, he dashed away from a strike, scuffing up dirt and showering Broken Fang. The large snake struck as Johnny lunged to the side with a bite that caught him above his right boot. He felt a sting knowing that not much venom had entered his bloodstream through one fang and having just ejected a dose on the concho on the leather calzoneras, but he had to avoid the snake that was in hot pursuit.
The men cheered as they witnessed the strike and watched intently, thinking Madrid would very soon be succumbing to the excruciating symptoms from the snake bite. But Madrid kept up his dance, staying out of the smaller serpent’s strike zone, tiring it out only to have it dart to the side of the pit looking for a place to rest.
The men watched knowing that Madrid had to be feeling that bite, when was he gonna fall? When was the pain gonna kick in? Little did they know he was in some pain, the stinging, hot prickle was starting to flow through him, but he would be alright with not much more than a slight fever, maybe a few chills and headache, but it would pass. In the meantime, he had to keep his wits about him and wait for his chance.
<><><><>
“Do ya know where they sent Johnny to work, Buck?”
Buck pointed to the south. They had entered onto Stafford’s property shortly after noon. Val thought if they could find where Johnny was working, they’d be able to trail them and hopefully execute a rescue before they crossed the border. Who knew? Maybe the Rurales would come over here ta get Madrid; maybe Johnny was still north of the border…
Val watched Mason, thinking the man would give something away. But he didn’t.
Mason was confident that he was right in that Dixon was the man that was interfering with the capture of the renegades and the traitor to his country. Lt. Stevens had been compelling with his proof. Dixon had to be stopped before he jeopardized any more soldiers. Mason looked up and saw Val watching him. With a nod of his head, he motioned Val to his side.
“Sheriff Crawford, I am begging you to listen to me! I was informed that Dixon is working with the renegades. If we don’t stop him, we are all going to die! He’s been telling the Rurales where we are going to be! You’ve got to listen to me!”
Val knew that the sergeant honestly believed what he was saying; unfortunately, it wasn’t the truth.
“Listen ta me, Mason, Dixon ain’t gonna be the one responsible for getting’ us killed… you will be. Now tell me what ya know!”
Mason said nothing and looked straight ahead. Val sighed deeply and scoured the ground, looking for tracks that would lead them to Johnny.
<><><><>
He was getting hot and not only from the sun beating down on him. There was considerable pain, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Johnny only hoped that his captors wouldn’t start throwing any more rocks at the snakes; he didn’t think that he would be able to outmaneuver them as he did earlier in the day.
He wondered for the hundredth time where Val was. Had Buck found him yet, and was Buck able to get that letter written by the contact at the fort? There was so much at stake here. First and foremost, the safety of the people, the farmers, and other innocents who could not defend themselves against tyrant ranchers and marauding Rurales. Then the soldiers who put their lives on the line only to be ambushed because the renegades had been informed where the soldiers would be.
Then there was Val and himself, well, he and Val had been in dangerous spots before and had made it out alive. And now Buck was involved, but that was a huge point in their favor. Buck was a good man to have on your side when things got hot. Yeah, Colby’s one tough son-of-a-bitch! Jus’ wish they’d get here pretty soon…
The haze settled heavily around him. It was getting harder to concentrate. Thoughts scuttled around in his brain but wouldn’t stay put, he knew it was due to the poison traveling through him, but it shouldn’t get too much worse. He had to hold out and wait for Val… Where are ya, amigo?
The sun was setting beyond the mountains. It was going to be another cold night. Guthrie was wondering where the Rurales were. They should be making contact soon. They wanted Madrid so they would be there, he knew, just not precisely when. Who knew, maybe Madrid would be dead by then. That snake bite sure is takin’ a while ta lay ‘im low; he shoulda been unconscious hours ago…
<><><><>
At that same moment, Val, Buck, Dixon, and his men were climbing the steep rocks that surrounded the box canyon. They had picked up tracks of four horses that led them straight here. It would be a perfect place to meet Rurales, and Val hoped, as he peered over the edge, to see Johnny, alive.
The small fire lit up a large area in the canyon, and Val could see three men sitting around the blaze, but he couldn’t see Johnny. His heart started to hammer in his chest. Were they too late? Was Johnny already gone? He motioned to Buck, and the two men ducked down behind the ridge line.
“I’m gonna go down an’ have a look-see. Maybe we missed some tracks leadin’ outta here, but I don’t see Johnny down there. Just hopin’ that the Rurales ain’t got here yet! Be ready for anythin’, but I wanna keep the noise down in case them Rurales are close ‘nough that they’d hear,” Val said with worry in his eyes.
Buck knew what was expected of him. “Good luck, Val, an’ get Johnny outta there, don’t see ‘im, but he’s gotta be there…” Buck said hopefully and shook Val’s hand. Then he went back up the ridge to inform the two Army soldiers and watch those below.
Val stopped to let Dixon know what he planned.
“I’m going with you!” Val knew the Captain needed this, and there would be no denying him. He needed to see that he was up to the task ahead of them; it would be his validation. He was here, he would do what was required; after all, he was a soldier in the US Army. Val saw the resolve in his dark eyes. Maybe he’ll do alright… Val thought as they went down to the mouth of the canyon.
The entrance to the canyon was narrow and shielded from the outside. Val took one side, and Dixon took the other, keeping to the shadows. Val held up a hand motioning for the Captain to wait as Val silently slipped through and into the cover of the surrounding rocks. When Val disappeared, the Captain gave him five minutes, then he imitated Val’s movements, kept to the shadows, and flanked the men oblivious to the danger that was now on both sides and above.
It was only after Val took cover behind a boulder that he saw the small pit and could see Johnny sitting on the ground with his head rolled to the side that Val knew something was wrong. One man stood and walked to the hole, stopping to pick up something from the ground to throw into the pit, or at Johnny.
Val stood and quickly pumped a shell into the chamber of his rifle, the noise unusually loud in the thin cold air. All three men went for their pistols when Val’s bellow reached them, stopping them in mid draw, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Y’all hold it right there! Yer surrounded, throw down them guns… NOW!”
Trip Savage stood at the edge of the pit and hesitated to throw his pistol down. The rocks fell from his fingers, and his hand suddenly went for the gun in his holster.
Anticipating a move from at one of them, Val was ready. His knife gleamed wickedly in the firelight, with a deadly flash it sailed through the air to bury itself into Savage’s chest. The body stood a second before falling sideways into the pit and settled leaning against the dirt wall receiving several strikes from both snakes at the rude intrusion. But Trip never knew it. He was already dead. Johnny watched in morbid fascination as the snakes coiled, standing tall and swaying, their black tongues tasting the air for scents.
“That didn’t hafta happen! The rest of you throw down them guns!”
Guthrie and Terrell did as they were told, ice forming in their guts as they knew the plan was crumbling right out from beneath their feet.
Dixon stepped out of the shadows with his pistol drawn, aimed at Guthrie’s head. “Turn around,” he ordered. Guthrie turned, putting his arms around his back. Dixon pulled out handcuffs and secured them tightly then ordered Terrell to do the same. Val raced to the pit, ready to jump into it when he heard Johnny.
“No… Val, careful… Snakes…”
“Ya alright, amigo?” Val asked, anxious about Johnny, and watched him closely.
“Kinda. Jus’ get me outta here. The key’s in his shirt pocket.” Johnny motioned to Savage.
Val knelt and retrieved the key. “Ya know where them snakes are, Johnny? I can’t see ‘em…” Val searched the pit, but the shadows were too dark.
Captain Dixon came to stand next to the pit and couldn’t hold back the shiver as he imagined Johnny held prisoner with the large serpent. The three soldiers ran into the small canyon to aid their Captain, Val, and Buck and rescue the man chained in the pit.
“One jus’ crawled behind him,” Johnny motioned to the dead man now sharing the pit, “an’ the other one’s layin’ at my feet, over ta the right side.”
“There’s more than one?” Dixon felt the shiver crawl down his spine.
“Yeah, two of ‘em,” Johnny spoke barely above a whisper.
Val went to the fire and picked up a stout branch to use as a torch. Coming back to the pit, he saw the sheen of sweat covering Johnny’s face and the glaze of his eyes.
“Ya get bit, Johnny?” he whispered, hoping this reaction was due to some other malady. Snake bites were often lethal, especially if not tended promptly, and something was obviously wrong with Johnny.
Dixon paled as he processed what had happened.
“Kinda…”
“Cap’n, hand me that bedroll over there,” Val asked, not taking his eyes off the huge snake. The blanket was placed in his hands as Val had Dixon take his place at the edge of the pit with the torch. Val slowly backed up behind the Captain out of sight, walking out of the snake’s line of vision. He circled the hole coming to the edge from the other side and lowered the blanket down between Johnny and the snake, giving it a toss to land over the snake’s head.
Quickly, Val jumped down and helped Johnny to his feet then settled him on the ground out of the hole. He unlocked the cuff carefully as it bit into the flesh and rubbed the skin raw. It was dirty and bleeding, but that was not the primary concern right now.
“Johnny, where’d that snake bite cha?”
“Ain’t too bad, Val.” Johnny pointed to the area above his boot, where the fang had pierced the leather. “Think it’ll jus’ hafta run its course. Hardly got any poison… jus’ ‘nough ta get a fever, but I got a helluva headache stampedin’ through my skull…” Johnny offered him a slight grin.
Val sighed in relief. “Ya alright ta wait for any doctorin’ for a while, amigo?” Val asked, observing Johnny, gauging his condition.
Johnny smiled and met Val’s eyes. “Yeah, sure. What’dya got in mind?”
“Got any idea when them Rurales are s’posta get here?”
“Nope, an’ neither do they,” Johnny nodded to Guthrie and Terrell guarded by Dixon’s two soldiers.
Val smiled wickedly. “Well, then, we need ta come up with a plan, don’t we Cap’n?”
For the first time, Captain Dixon smiled.
Val nudged Johnny’s shoulder and pointed into the hole. Savage’s body was left where it fell in the pit, and as Johnny waited a minute for his vision to clear, he saw movement as the large diamondback slithered up and across the still chest to wrap around the neck of the dead man. The black tongue flicked, shiny in the moon and firelight. It tasted the air all around the body, then traveled up the still face and over the bridge of Trip’s nose. The muscles in the snake’s body, undulating and rippling as it pushed through the hair on top of the head to, at last, find freedom out of the pit. All the men stepped out of its way as it sought cover in the boulders at the side of the canyon.
“Still another snake in there, Val…” Johnny mumbled as Val checked out the bite on his leg. Washing it as best he could, Val bandaged the wound after smearing it with a pungent salve. It was red and swollen but thought Johnny would be alright.
“Yeah, best get it outta there now before ya hafta go back in there. Don’t think another bite’d do ya any good, amigo.” Val tried to lighten the mood. “Course yer so ornery the snake’d prob’bly die from bitin’ ya again!”
Johnny smiled but said nothing, and Val knew he was exhausted; he needed to sleep and regain some strength after no food or water for a day and a half. Having to spend energy to avoid two angry snakes and tolerate the abuse from Guthrie and his men had worn him down.
“Ya get some sleep while there’s time, Johnny,” Val said as he spread a bedroll on the ground close to the fire, and with no argument, Johnny hobbled over to the inviting warmth and crawled between the blankets. And after a deep sigh, he was asleep within minutes.
They had agreed on a plan to keep watch for the Rurales, and with the information gotten out of Sonny Terrell, they knew there wouldn’t be many of them to come for Madrid. There would be a Capitan Medina with only four other men to take Madrid back into Mexico. As long as Buck and Val worked their ‘magic’ on Terrell, they got a few other pieces of information that they could use. Guthrie cursed and threatened Terrell until he was gagged and dragged away to stay separated so he wouldn’t threaten Sonny.
“Alright, Terrell, talk! You were saying ‘bout Stafford helpin’ the Rurales…” Buck said as he played with the large knife in his hands, getting closer and closer to Sonny’s throat. Before it was over, Buck had seared a shallow cut across Terrell’s neck; oops, dawg-gone, don’t know how that happened…
Then Sonny was talking a blue streak, singing like the canary he was, telling everything he knew and begging to be spared. Buck could be intimidating when he wanted, and it made both Val chuckle and wish Johnny was awake to see the show.
They watched the master interrogator use his well-honed methods as he demoralized his victim with horrific images. In close detail, the descriptions of skinning a man alive and staking him out on an anthill with voracious carnivorous insects to enter any and every exposed orifice and eat him alive from the inside out did the job of making a man talk.Terrell spilled everything he knew as Buck sat back and smiled.
“Works every time,” Buck laughed, “I’m really a lamb at heart,” he said sweetly, looking as innocent as a … lamb.
Val looked over at Mason, who sat wide-eyed as he listened to Sonny Terrell’s confession.
“Well, Sarge, what ‘bout it? Ya gonna tell us what we wanna know an’ fill in the empty places?”
Mason was stunned. He realized he’d been lied to, used, and would most certainly have died on this mission along with the rest of them. And if not outright killed in action, his military career was over. He would, no doubt, be court marshaled. He sat with head hanging and so very ashamed.
It was mid-morning when the first sign of approaching riders appeared. Buck was on watch, and he called down to Val to get ready. Johnny, although much improved, was still a bit off, but he gamely did his part and returned to his place in the pit as Val carefully snapped the cuff around the swollen and bloody wrist.
The clink of the lock catching forced a hiss of pain from his lips. Val wanted to use his right arm and not irritate the damaged skin, but Johnny insisted knowing that both wrists couldn’t be damaged, his captors wouldn’t have cared, why would they care enough to put the chain on the other wrist, so against Val’s better judgment, the cuff was locked where it had been. With Guthrie and Terrell secured out of sight, Val and Dixon, bravely carried out their part, acting as Stafford’s men holding Madrid when the Rurales rode into the small canyon. Buck and the three soldiers, including Mason, were ensconced in the rocks above with unobstructed views down below.
Val sat casually drinking coffee when the renegades rode into camp. He stood and threw the remainder on the dusty ground. Immediately the Mexicans were alert and looked around for Pete Guthrie.
“If’n yer lookin’ for Guthrie, he ain’t here. Got hurt the other day an’ Stafford sent us ta turn over Madrid.” Val nodded his head in the direction of the pit, where Johnny once again sat leaning against the side wall. Val chanced a glance at Dixon; he seemed to be alright and not overly nervous about giving anything away.
“Well, here he is, Capitan, come an’ see for yourself,” Val said as he walked toward Johnny. Medina stopped at the edge of the pit and laughed as he brushed the trail dust from his sleeves.
“Ah, Señor Madrid, you are finally where you belong! And in a very short time, you will again be standing in front of the firing squad. You will not escape this time! Stand up, you filthy mestizo!”
Johnny remained where he was seated on the ground staring at the Capitan through icy piercing eyes. Rage filled Medina’s brain as he got closer to the hole standing erect, exuding the authority and power expected from a man of his elevated position.
The renegade soldiers seemed nervous; something was wrong here; they felt it but were confused. Stafford had never betrayed them before; they all benefited from this arrangement.
“Uh, Capitan, I, ah, I wouldn’t get too close, there…”
The Capitan paid no attention. He jumped into the pit, disregarding Val’s warning. Madrid was secured, what did he have to fear? Then Medina turned to face him.
“And why should I not?” As Val tossed his cup onto the ground, the signal to shoot around the feet of the Rurales, Johnny launched to full height so quickly he was a blur.
“This is why bastardo!” He lunged forward in a brutal attack and wrapped the length of chain around Medina’s neck, choking off his air supply as the Capitan frantically tried to reach his pistol. The renegade Rurales drew their guns and began firing as the reinforcements in the rocks fired back.
Johnny turned the struggling Medina in front of him, shielded himself from the swarming bullets, and felt Medina go limp in his arms, shot by the Capitan’s own men. It was over in seconds. Smoke filled the air stinging the nostrils.
A pitifully short gun battle played out with Dixon taking out two of the Rurales himself with sharp and deadly accuracy. A bullet had pierced Dixon’s upper left arm and bled, but he seemed not to notice. Mason watched his Captain, and in that action by Captain Dixon, Mason was sure he had been wrong. The Captain was a victim here, same as he was, and at that moment, he vowed to make things right.
“Alright, we gotta move out now!” Val commanded as he and Dixon helped Johnny out of the pit and quickly unlocked the cuff from Johnny’s arm. They searched the bodies of the dead Rurales, then dragged them into the rocks beside that of Trip Savage. They gathered their prisoners and headed to Las Cruces as fast as they could. The sooner they were off Stafford’s property, the better.
<><><><>
The Sergeant saluted the Captain as he entered the room under guard. Although he had willingly fought as a soldier at the box canyon, he had been relieved of his weapon when the battle concluded and resumed his place under the watchful eyes of the corporals. He would now begin to clear his name.
With his salute returned, the Captain commanded, “At ease, Sergeant,” then motioned him into a chair. The Sergeant, with proper military decorum, sat staring straight ahead.
“Permission to speak, Sir.”
Captain Dixon nodded as he responded. “Permission granted.”
“Captain, I want to set the record straight and attempt to explain what happened. I give you my word as a soldier and will swear that everything I am about to say is the whole truth as I know it. And I am willing to cooperate to help clear this up and hopefully clear my name and yours, as well.”
Dixon watched the soldier, an invaluable lesson he’d learned from Val Crawford. The eyes told a great deal about a man, and it was a lesson, one of many, that he would remember for the rest of his life. His Sergeant was telling the truth.
“Proceed, Sergeant,” he commanded as the two corporals stood at the door and listened as the Mason began his long tale of the deceit and corruption within the ranks of the Army, specifically Lt. Stevens at Fort Collins.
<><><><>
Dixon was drained upon hearing the confession offered voluntarily by Sgt. Lane Mason. But there was no reason to doubt it. Everything fit perfectly going as far back as his quick promotion and subsequent transfer to Fort Riverton, all ingeniously orchestrated by Lt. Stevens. He had painstakingly arranged everything, a complete deception that had fooled them all for a long time.
Charges would be filed for the attempt to arrange the inevitable massacre of the small force gone out under the pretense of stopping or disbanding renegade Rurales. That also included the cold and calculated dispatching of Sergeant Mason, the man led to believe he was working undercover for Lt. Stevens and the United States Army. With the lack of experience on Dixon’s part, the demise of all involved was a sure thing, and with the Sergeant dead, there would be no one to declare foul.
Dixon had been used, just as Mason had. Jason Stafford came under suspicion having received the letter from Lt Stevens and sealed his fate, reinforced with the verbal confirmation from Sonny Terrell.
No doubt, Terrell would cut a deal and testify against his former employer for a lesser sentence. But would there be a lesser sentence for the crimes in which he’d willingly participated? The murders and heinous acts committed against innocent people? The loss of life and property had been extensive, and waiting in the shadows was a greedy man with no conscience. Jason Stafford. A man so incredibly evil that he swept in to reap the bounty of the devastation at the loss and misery of others as he added to his ugly, toxic empire. Yes, Jason Stafford would very soon sample a bitter taste of the devastation he created.
<><><><>
Sitting at the table with Captain Dixon, Val Crawford sensed the man had something to say. Val could see it but waited until the Captain had his thoughts together.
“How is Mr. Lancer today?” Dixon began.
Val smiled as he thought of the argument he had earlier in the day with Johnny.
“Oh, he’s fine. Ornery as ever. He’s the most stubborn cuss I ever met! Another day of takin’ it easy an’ we’ll be headin’ for home.”
“I’m glad… Mr. Crawford…”
“Val…” the smile grew, and Dixon returned it.
“Alright, Val, the Army is eternally indebted for what you and Mr. Lancer…”
“Johnny…”
Another smile graced the Captain’s face. “For what you and Johnny did, the chances you both took went above and beyond.”
Val was genuinely touched by not only the acknowledgment but the compliment. And he blushed.
“No need ta thank us, Capt’n, it’s what we usta do for a livin’!”
They ate in friendly camaraderie for the rest of the meal. As they finished, Val became serious after relating some of the outrageous tales when he and Johnny worked the range wars together.
“So, what’s gonna happen now, Cap’n, far as Stafford goes?”
“I’ve sent my report to Major Thomas at Fort Riverton and have notified the sheriff in Deming. They will handle it from here on out. It was a heavy blow to the Army to find out that a well-respected officer had been so committed to treason and so long at it before being detected.
“Apparently, he’d been promised a villa in Mexico City with a hefty income for the rest of his life in exchange for the information he passed along. Mr. Stafford provided sanctuary for the renegades on his land, and knowing where the raids would take place allowed him to be the first one to take advantage of the ‘spoils’.
“He bought up land before the previous owners were even cold in their graves. He will not be prosecuted by the Army, of course, it will have to go through the civil courts.” Dixon sighed heavily. “Unfortunately for Sergeant Mason, he was caught in the middle, and honestly thought he was working undercover. But I am sure upon further investigation, he will be exonerated.”
“Unfortunately for you, too, Cap’n. You were set up take the fall, ya were gonna be tried for treason, that is if ya lived through this. It turned out good for us that Terrell likes ta talk, with a little persuadin’, a course!”
Dixon shuddered, remembering the threats Buck Colby conjured up with the explicit details of over-exaggerated tortures… He hoped they’d been over-exaggerated.
<><><><>
The ride out of Las Cruces to Socorro was taking far too long where Johnny was concerned, but Val set the pace and would not be deterred. Johnny
sighed and shrugged, impatient at the slow pace, but Val knew he had a few lingering effects due to the snake bite he received while cuffed to the stake in the pit.
Once started for home, Val made sure to dictate the pace. They would take their time and rest no matter how much Johnny pitched a fit.
“Reminds ya of the ol’ days, don’t it, amigo?” Val smiled as they rode in the late afternoon. The hottest part of the day now over, they could ride comfortably for a while before making camp and dealing with the chilly night. Johnny turned to face him as a grin started to grow.
“Ya, except for one thing…” Johnny huffed at the blank stare from Val. “Val, we didn’t get paid!” he said with a laugh.
They settled into a leisurely pace, and Val was relieved as Johnny finally complied. His amigo was still on the mend, regardless if he admitted it or not.
Damn, sometimes it’s like travelin’ with a kid, Val thought as he watched Johnny. No, ain’t no kid would get back in that hole after keepin’ comp’ny with two big ol’ diamondbacks, that took some guts… Val smiled.
“How’s yer headache?” Val asked, making sure Johnny was alright. He never knew— Johnny always kept that to himself.
“Fine…” Johnny grumbled, but Val could see the pain lines around Johnny’s eyes. Give ‘im a coupla days an’ he will be fine… The poison took a while to work its way out of the bloodstream. Johnny would, indeed, be fine. Crabby, but fine. Val suddenly started to chuckle, and Johnny turned a suspicious eye on him.
“What’s so funny?” Johnny groused.
“The look in Buck’s eyes when ya finally told him ya was a respectable rancher now. Somehow I really don’t think he believed you.”
Johnny couldn’t help but smile; it had been pretty funny as Buck sat with his mouth hanging open.
At first, Buck felt betrayed; he’d always known Johnny as a rebel type. Wild, rowdy, nonconforming, and ready to fight at a second’s notice. Not too much of it had changed when Val explained out of Johnny’s earshot that Johnny and his Old Man butted heads and were always arguing over something, but Buck began to change his opinion when Johnny offered him a job if he ever got tired of fighting all the range wars.
“Hell, Buck, we got lots a pretty senoritas around Lancer!” Johnny had teased. Who knew, maybe Johnny would see him riding under the Lancer arch one of these days.
<><><><>
It seemed like they would never reach Green River. Val was ready to leave Johnny on his own for the last fifty miles. Intimidarhad proved to be a good horse, reliable, smart, and strong and would get Johnny home safe, but Val bit the proverbial bullet and stayed by his compadre all the way back to Lancer.
<><><><>
Three weeks later, Val received a letter from Governor Bronson. He tore the envelope open as thoughts of saying no to whatever the man was about to ask stampeded through his mind. Scanning the letter, he picked out the word ‘reward’, prompting him to slow down and start from the beginning. Ohhh, Johnny ain’t gonna like this! No siree, not one bit!
Val joined them for dinner. He’d come out to the ranch to deliver the news they would be getting a reward for their part in breaking up the tyrannical hold Stafford imposed on the land and its people and having taken down a large part of the ‘empire’ with the renegade Rurales with Medina’s demise.
Upon hearing the news, Johnny sat looking down at his plate filled with delicious food with more for the wanting; he felt guilty thinking about the innocent people who had lost everything, their homes and families, everything they ever owned. An’ here I sit, food, plenty of it, a family an’ a home… Everything I could ever want an’ I’m gettin’ money?… Somethin’s wrong here.
While Murdoch, Scott, and Teresa sat in excited conversation regarding the reward, Johnny’s soft tones overrode the commotion around the table.
“Don’t want it,” he said, effectively halting the talk in the room. All eyes were on him as he sat in silence, struggling to find the words as the clock ticked off the seconds with thundering explosions.
He raised his eyes to those around him. “Why am I gettin’ a reward for helpin’ ta set a wrong ta right? Those folks down there, some of ‘em lost everything, everyone around them, and I’m getting’ a reward?” He met Val’s eyes. “Send mine ta Buck an’ have ‘im give it ta some of the families that Stafford ruined, would ya?”
“Already did, amigo, already did…” Val laughed, and the meal once again was graced with the precious tones of love and family and friends.
Val left for town, leaving Johnny out on the patio, looking out over the lush grassland and the mountains and the spectacular star-studded sky. It was good to be home. He had missed the tranquility while he was gone.
Tranquility was something new to Johnny, and since coming to live at Lancer, he found himself drawn to this peace more and more. As Madrid, there hadn’t been anything like this, and Johnny Lancer had grown accustomed to it, had grown to love it. He needed the reassurance that it offered him. Had he become soft with this new life, he wondered? No, he and Val seemed to have picked up the old life right where they’d left off. But this time, he had something to come back to. Lancer, and family.
The door opened, and Murdoch and Scott joined him on the patio. Johnny felt something looming, but he waited.
“Johnny, I am touched that you are sending that money to those people that lost so much. I’m very proud of you…” Murdoch stopped, and Johnny turned to face him and saw something there, just below the surface. He met his father’s stare and did not back down.
“There somethin’ else ya wanna say?” he asked, wanting everything out in the open. Get it said…
Murdoch looked to Scott and continued with tentative hesitation. “I understand that you want to help those who can’t defend themselves…” he stopped as he saw Johnny tense.
Johnny knew where this was going, and he stood straight and stiff, ready to defend his actions.
“… but what I don’t understand is why you always put yourself in these situations…” Murdoch’s eyes held deep concern that made Johnny think the old man was going to tear into him.
“Cuz I can usually get these things taken care of, can usually fix it,” he countered softly.
Murdoch unwisely exploded, and Johnny took a step backward but ready to defend himself, and never would he back down from this. Ever.
“Yes, but at what cost?” The question boomed out across the patio, and Scott winced, knowing this was not going as well as he hoped it would. He and his father agreed on this opinion, but Scott knew this wasn’t the right approach.
“What’d ya mean ‘cost’?” Johnny asked, with eyes turning cold.
“Johnny, you nearly got yourself killed! And this isn’t the first time!” Murdoch appeared enraged, and that’s what Johnny saw, but what Murdoch felt was terror and premature grief. He’d already lost Johnny once, for over twenty-three years. He couldn’t lose him again; it would kill him… But he knew he started this conversation all wrong. Why did he have such a hard time conveying his thoughts to Johnny?
Johnny laughed bitterly. “Murdoch, I‘m just an ex gunfighter. Gunfighters like me are a dime a dozen. A hundred a me ain’t worth one a those folks. They’re good an’ they’re innocent. Let’s face it… I ain’t…” Sadness filled Johnny’s eyes, and he turned away, unable to see the look of… what was it he saw in Murdoch’s eyes? Disappointment? And those eyes suddenly flashed with anger.
Johnny stood looking down at the ground then dragged his sight off to the scene beyond the adobe wall surrounding the patio. The sight that always gave him peace. The grasslands and hills, and then the stars over the majestic mountains, far away, far away…
But Murdoch wasn’t finished, and he went on, softer now. “Johnny, what do you mean ‘they’re good and innocent, and you’re not’?”
Johnny met those eyes again and saw the sparks igniting, turning the eyes dark, and he shrugged. “Look, Murdoch, we all know what I was…”
Murdoch interrupted and grabbed Johnny’s arms. “Yes, we know, but apparently you don’t!”
Johnny flinched with shock as the tremor ripped through his body.
“Why did you decide to fight?” Murdoch had to get through to him!
“Come on, Murdoch…”
But Murdoch interrupted again. “Why did you decide to fight?” Murdoch repeated, this time quieter.
“Ta stay alive… it was the only thing I was good at,” Johnny replied softly.
“So, you developed your skills with a gun to stay alive.” At this, Johnny nodded. Murdoch let go of the strong shoulders of his youngest son and went to stand at the wall. He, too, found comfort and solace here.
Scott had kept quiet and now realized where Murdoch was going. He wasn’t going to say anything, but he would be there for support, for both of them. Murdoch continued, softer now.
“Are you telling me that you should have left yourself starve?”
Johnny was beginning to feel boxed in, the confines around him were closing; they were waiting for him to answer. He glanced in Scott’s direction but found no help, no backup in his brother’s eyes. They were questioning him, waiting for his explanations. How could he answer what he couldn’t explain to himself?
“Why do you hold yourself accountable for everything? Things that are out of your control you take on as your duty to figure out, to fight! You aren’t responsible for these issues that you take on! Why, Johnny?” Murdoch’s eyes bored into him, pleading for an answer that would make sense.
Johnny turned away, not able to meet those questioning eyes. Scott watched as he, too, wanted an answer, but he could feel Johnny’s anguish, unlike Murdoch. Scott half expected Johnny to bolt… But his surprise, his brother didn’t.
Johnny stood with back turned, and several seconds ticked off before he could answer the question. He hesitated, knowing that the truth was going to hurt his father like a knife through the heart. When he finally turned to face Murdoch, he’d regained his control, and he asked softly: “Do ya really wanna know?”
Murdoch came to stand before his son. “Yes, Johnny, I want to know the truth, whatever it is.”
Johnny took a deep breath and swallowed, hoping to wet down the suddenly dry throat.
Murdoch waited, wondering at the hesitation. Is it that bad, Johnny? And he began to worry.
Johnny watched the anxious look on Murdoch’s face, contemplating the turmoil, but he spoke in the soft tones hoping to ease the pain that would soon make its presence known.
“Hafta help when I can… cuz I know what it’s like ta not have help. I know how it feels…” and Johnny briefly met Murdoch’s tortured eyes before turning away.
“I didn’t wanna tell ya, Murdoch. I‘m sorry…” Johnny mumbled as he saw the pain and guilt searing through his father’s heart. “I’m sorry,” Johnny whispered, repeating his apology.
“No, Johnny, I’m the one who should be sorry; it was my failure that I didn’t find you to bring you home…”
He thought about what his father had just said, and it didn’t fit. “Murdoch, there was nothin’ ya coulda done. No way ya coulda found me. Ya can’t keep blamin’ yourself for that…”
Murdoch locked Johnny in a stare. “Just like you shouldn’t have to fight every fight?”
“That’s a big part a who Madrid was… is. He’s still there, prob’bly always will be. Wasn’t you’re fault Mama ran off an’ kept movin’ around. I think sometimes she knew you were close an’ we’d leave town in the middle of the night. How could you know that? But some a the things that happened, still not your fault, but they left… scars. An’ they’ll always be there so, I help folks when I can, if I can… An’ I know that’s not the answer you were hopin’ for, but it’s the only one I got.”
Murdoch came forward again, taking Johnny by the shoulders. He looked at his son’s deep blue eyes for a minute then suddenly wrapped him in his bear hug embrace.
“I may not always agree with what you’re doing, but I want you to know that I am so proud of the man you’ve become… both of you!” as he turned to look at Scott.
Johnny pulled back to look at his father then to Scott. Scott felt immense pride for both of the men before him. His father was learning to deal with issues, although beyond his control and… wasn’t that the same thing Johnny was going through? Johnny was learning how to deal with family dynamics. He’d never done that, never had the structure, and it would be a problem but an issue they would work out… together as a family.
The stars winked and sparkled. Everything would work out.
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~ end ~
June 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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Great story, and I’m glad Johnny stood his ground on what he’s willing to fight for. Scott fought his war, Murdoch fought for his land, and Johnny fight for the underdog. That will always be a part that makes Johnny who he is. Maybe I’m not understanding but why is Murdoch and Scott finding fault in Johnny’s causes.
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Hey there, Ruby! Thank you for the feedback. Murdoch and Scott weren’t finding fault so much in Johnny’s causes, only that he put himself at such risk. Johnny had a family now and they thought he, hopefully, would leave that life behind- but that isn’t how Johnny viewed these things. His ‘old life’ would always be with him, he would always help the underdog and that is what his family had trouble accepting. They viewed Johnny in a completely different light than Johnny did himself. I hope this answered your question. Thank you again!
Diana
Buckskin
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Omg. This was so good. A great adventure. I love Johnny and Val. I liked Colby and hop to see him again. I liked the captain too. I could see this like I was watching TV.
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Wow, Char! Thank you! That is glowing feedback to say you could see it as if watching TV! Thank you! Yeah, Colby was kind of fun, I liked him too. You never know, maybe he will reprise his role in a later story…
Thank you so much!
Diana
Buckskin
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Another cracking story. Thank you.
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Thank you, Helen! I’m happy you liked this one!
Diana
Buckskin
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I love Val and Johnny together on a special mission-they are sure to have an unforgettable adventure. What a great story!
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Hey there, Debra! Yeah, you can’t go wrong with Johnny and Val together… let me rephrase… You can’t go wrong with Johnny, Val, and trouble together! Thanks for reading and the feedback!
Diana
Buckskin
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Always enjoy Johnny and Val, and, as usual, you write them perfectly.
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Hey there Carolyn! This is a surprise! Feedback from an old story is great! Thank you so much! I’m happy you liked this tale, and yes, you can’t beat Johnny and Val together! Thank you for the compliment!
Diana
Buckskin
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Darn you Diana!
Here I am awake when I should be asleep because I can’t stop reading another of your stories.
I love love love the Johnny and Val stories and your introduction of Buck Colby was a good one.
I really enjoyed the way you intertwined Johnny and Val’s past to solve the problems of the border that still persist, keeping the action going yet still letting us see the deeper layers within these characters.
Bringing the Lancer family together again at the end was perfect giving a nice balance between Johnny’s lives—past and present—always pulsing with one aspect—gunfighter or rancher—taking over when needed. Johnny’s confession to Murdoch that he had to continue the fight against the bullies of the world because he knows what it feels like to need help and know he had none was quite poignant. A clear reminder of why he learned to use a gun.
Thanks so much for sharing such great stories. I don’t always leave comments, but I am savoring each one.
~ Shelly ~
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Uh oh! I didn’t mean to keep you awake! Yes, I love the Johnny/Val and Johnny/Scott stories as well! I thought ol’ Buck Colby was interesting and have brought him back in a recent story – He might make other appearances from time to time.
Johnny needed to clear the air with Murdoch, and that conversation would be an emotional one as Johnny confessed to his father why he needed to help the less fortunate; he knew it would hurt Murdoch, but Murdoch asked, wanting to understand his son.
I am happy you liked this story, and thank you so much for the glowing feedback! You have no idea what it means to me!
Diana
Buckskin
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Every time I read this story, your Colby reminds me of a character in the second M7 movie who was also named Colby. He loved the pretty senoritas as much as your Colby does. I always picture that Colby when I read about yours. Warren Oates played the part.
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Oops, Carolyn, I am so sorry, this slipped through the cracks, and I missed it- Yes, I remember Warren Oates but had forgotten his name. Mr. Oates was a great actor in everything he did.
Thank you for reading Tempting Fate!
Diana
Buckskin
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Murdoch is finally understanding the dynamics of Johnny – the full extent of who he is and all the multifaceted sides of him. I love the ending you created … powerful and purely raw in emotions coming from a man of conflicting but compelling and compassionate feelings –
always sacrificing and helping those in need because he empathizes with their sufferings as well as their grave losses.
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Murdoch had much to learn about the man his son was; Johnny answered his questions even though he knew they would hurt Murdoch, but he was honest, hoping his father would understand. Thank you for reading and the feedback.
Diana
Buckskin
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I love Tempting Fate so much. It is a GREAT story-Val and Johnny together always manage to do the seemingly impossible. Thank you so much for writing this one.
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Thank you so much! This is a nice surprise getting feedback on an older story! Together, Johnny and Val make a formidable team. Throw in Buck Colby and a few others, and they are invincible. Glad you liked this Lancer tale and thanks for letting me know!
Diana
Buckskin
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