To Hear The Quiet by Buckskin

Word Count 2985

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Truth and Understanding

Thanks to Catherine and Chris for the beta

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Part of the Conversations With A Gunfighter Series

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“How long are you going to sit up here?”  The words barely left his mouth before Murdoch inwardly cringed, thinking he could do better than that.  He had to do better than that.  His son was hurting, and those words did nothing to comfort or offer support; instead, they echoed a reprimand, a challenge.  Like a rasp over iron, inflicting biting pain.  Would he ever learn to say the right thing, or was he destined to trip over words that implied thoughts and accusations he didn’t mean? 

Johnny heard him approach and, knowing he was no longer alone, stiffened his posture, expecting a confrontation, but he swallowed back the sarcasm before he put it to voice.  He wouldn’t be baited, not this time.  No, he would keep his temper corralled and let the Ol’ Man say what he had to say.  Hopefully, he’d ride away, head home, and leave Johnny alone to sort out his misery without having to hear the disappointment in his father’s voice; the disappointment that tore Johnny to shreds. 

But that didn’t happen; Johnny stared off into the mountains as Murdoch settled on the boulder beside him.  Shrugging, he readied himself for the battle to come.

“As long as it takes ta stop from turnin’ inside out.  Look, I’ll get my work done, I just need some time ta settle down.  Ya don’t need ta check up on me.  I’ll be back in a while.”  Spoken in tones only above a whisper, Johnny hoped Murdoch would say what he wanted to say, then leave him to deal with things on his own.  He didn’t need Murdoch’s sermon to add to the torment. 

Madrid had killed a man the day before in a fair fight.  But sometimes just being a ‘fair fight’ did not satisfy the Ol’ Man.  It shouldn’t happen… ever… according to him.  Then this morning, Johnny was accosted by the dead man’s father and brother in Green River, who accused him of murder.  Johnny knew that grief could make a man do things he ordinarily wouldn’t do; grief could get a man killed.  Johnny Madrid had dealt with grief of his own and others all his life.  But he didn’t feel like dealing with Murdoch’s grievances now.  Or was it regret?  He dealt with enough of his own.  His regrets; his own disappointments.  His own Hell.

Why couldn’t his father leave it alone?

Furtive glances toward his son told Murdoch of trouble brewing beneath the surface, akin to watching a storm build over the mountains, or the blackening clouds gather on the horizon of the sea as they boiled to finally erupt in a violent explosion.  Either way, a storm was building.  Land, sea, sky… and soul.

Murdoch needed to start again, but this time, it would be different.  This time, his son would know what was in his heart, not the expected angry, harsh accusations of past confrontations.  No, this would not be a confrontation.

He forced himself to remain calm, to let his words reflect what he truly felt.  To let Johnny know he supported him.  And he reined the volatile thoughts into concern.

“No, son, I came up here to show you that I support you.”  Murdoch smiled when Johnny slowly turned to lock onto his face in disbelief.  The father was struck with not only the shock and surprise, but more so, the troubled, soul-splintering shadows in Johnny’s eyes.

“I know none of what happened was your fault, and Charlie Thomas was wrong to accuse you of murder.  You have the backing of those who witnessed Tad call you out.  I saw what happened and heard you try to talk sense into that boy.  There was nothing you could have done, Johnny, and I’m sorry for not understanding in the past just how difficult it is for you when this happens.  Tad wasn’t going to be dissuaded, and he made that perfectly clear.  We all heard what he said; Val was there and heard Tad’s open threat.”

Johnny settled his sight back to the glorious, lush green valley and mountains before him.  A place of quiet.  A place that healed the turmoil inside him.

But that wasn’t all Murdoch Lancer was sorry about.  He was sorry for many things once he began to understand.  And now it was time to come clean, to get it said and off his chest.  The weight was too much.  And since Johnny had come home, he’d dumped it all at Johnny’s feet.  Sighing, Murdoch took a breath, then laid a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Son, can you forgive an old fool for insisting you leave Madrid behind you?  To be so arrogant that, in my failure to understand, I demanded you cut Madrid from your soul because all I could see was a hired… killer?”

Johnny again turned to face his father, eyes searching for the truth of the unexpected admission.  Eyes daring to hope…  Could Murdoch be telling the truth?  Johnny had never known his father to lie, but the subject of Madrid had brought out the worst in the past.

And although those were not the words Johnny expected, he held his silence.  There was much that Murdoch didn’t know.  Would he feel the same way once Johnny told him the truths of the life and rowdy times of Johnny Madrid?

 “It was unfair to ask that you remove the part of you that had kept you alive all the years you were alone.  It wasn’t right for me to ask that of you, son.  Without Madrid, you probably wouldn’t have lived.  From what I’ve learned of him, what I’ve seen with my own eyes, he’s an honest man, a good man.” 

What was Johnny supposed to say to that?  When had the Ol’ Man turned that corner to even begin to understand Madrid?  Was this the dawn of a new chapter in their relationship?  Dare he hope?  The next few minutes would tell the tale.  Murdoch had to know… all of it.  The bad as well as the good.  He deserved that right.

“Murdoch, Madrid wasn’t always a good or honest man.  There’s things that…, well, I’d rather just forget they happened, but I learned from those things.  I learned I could do better an’ fight for right instead’a just buildin’ my reputation or fightin’ for who paid the most money.”

Murdoch stayed silent and listened; every word Johnny spoke opened another door — a door Murdoch had refused to open in the past.  A door that shed insight on Madrid that Murdoch had previously disregarded, something to be shoved aside and eliminated. 

“Ya know, when I was young, it was,” Johnny stopped, knowing that what he was going to say would hurt Murdoch; no father wanted to hear his son admit to wanting the notoriety and power that came with being a sucessful gunfighter, but it was the truth; he whispered the words, softened the bite that would wound with vicious teeth, tearing into Murdoch’s soul for his failures.

“…it was like coming out of the dark into bright light.  No one was gonna kick me around anymore; no one was gonna beat me just for havin’ blue eyes or think they had the advantage over me cuz I was a scrawny half-breed kid.  I never planned for it to happen, but after I killed the man that murdered Mama, people started ta look at me through different eyes.  An’ it made me feel powerful.  That ain’t anything I felt before, an’ it fed my soul.  I know that’s not what you wanna hear, but it’s the truth.”

Murdoch held back the smile, thinking back on Johnny’s words, ‘…When I was young…’, Johnny was still young… in years, but had already lived a lifetime and experiences most men would never have, no matter how long they were of this earth.

“It didn’t take long before it hit me that life wasn’t what I wanted, but by then, it was too late.  Men were callin’ me out, wantin’ my reputation an’ there wasn’t anything I could do about it except meet out in the street an’ ask what they wanted carved on their tombstone.  They’d laugh, thinkin’ this skinny half-breed kid was just mouthin’ off, that they could take him down with no trouble at all.

“An’ after a while, I started ta realise it was a good day when no one died.  Funny words comin’ from a gunfighter, huh?”

Murdoch breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh mountain air while giving thought to his next statement, hoping to find something positive, something to reassure Johnny he was and would be there for him.

“Son, did you ever think that with every man you beat in a gunfight, you rid the world of a despicable, lawless criminal?  You stopped further killings of innocents; you made safe what wasn’t safe.  You saved lives.  Think of the good, the chances given to those less fortunate that without your efforts, wouldn’t have survived.”

“Tell that ta Mr. Thomas.”

“Johnny, what happened yesterday was unavoidable, and I know what happened this morning was hurtful, to say the least.  I know Charlie is grieving, but he can blame anyone except his son for starting what you were forced to finish.”

“Ya know, Murdoch, it’s faces like Tad’s that come ta haunt me.  Stupid kids that won’t be talked out of a fight, won’t listen ta reason.  Those are the worst.  Those are the ones I can’t forget.  The look in their eyes when it’s too late an’ they know they’re dyin’, then they see their blood runnin’ down their chest, shock takes over an’ they fall in the dust.  No killin’ is easy, an’ once I pull that trigger, there ain’t no callin’ piece ‘a lead back.

“Never was one ta count notches on my gun, no sense in braggin’, no advertizin’ who I was, cuz, after a while, I was just… tired.  Tired of tryin’ ta talk some stupid green kid out of makin’ the biggest mistake of their life.  But they never listened.  Never listened, an’ I’m left with nightmares of watchin’ ‘em fall inta the street, eyes still wide an’ not seein’.  Not believin’ what just happened.

“I never told ya before, but after a while, I thought about just endin’ it all.  I gave serious thought ta just standin’ there an’ lettin’ the next man that called me out win.  I’d just look him in the eye an’ let him shoot me, then, it’d all be over an’ I wouldn’t have ta feel this regret.”

The chilling tone of Johnny’s confession broke Murdoch’s heart.  Johnny was left to deal with mistakes not of his doing.  Mistakes of young men, no, they were boys, boys with expectations of taking Madrid out of the game, so they would become famous.  Instead, most were buried in graves, and no one would ever remember their names, except grieving fathers like Charlie Thomas.

Babies dying for notoriety they would never know.

“But when the next man called me out, I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t let it happen cuz who would fight for those innocent people who couldn’t fight for themselves?  Those that came ta me for help, I woulda signed their death warrant if I let myself die.  I couldn’t do it, an’ I ended up pullin’ the trigger an’… another dead man was layin’ in the street.”

Johnny stopped, then suddenly turned to Murdoch. 

“Why wouldn’t they listen, Murdoch?  It was like I didn’t say anything.  Like my words blew away in the wind.”

“Johnny, I wish I had the right words for you, but I can tell you this: there is no help for those who choose to not listen.  Many a young man took the wrong fork in that ill-fated road, and it led to their death.  I honestly don’t think any of them would listen to anything you said.” 

Murdoch wanted, needed for Johnny to know what was in his heart now, not the gruff words, stupidly spoken when his sons first walked into the great room the day they came to Lancer.  With those ill-spoken first words, he openly threw down the proverbial gauntlet, nearly daring them to deny him, or was he baiting them in self-defense, protecting his heart before they had the chance to break it?

Murdoch had suffered extreme losses, two wives and two sons, but he needn’t make those sons pay for that which was not of their doing.   

“Son, it would be presumptuous for me to say that I knew what you went through; that you need to forget and put it behind you.  What happened to you would have broken anyone else.  But you persevered; you became stronger.  You helped those in need.” 

It was cleansing to finally tell Johnny what was in his heart, a liberation of thoughts and opinions… and to accept Madrid as part of Johnny, not a cold-blooded killer he once tried to separate, to cut away from his son.

“And I am proud of the man you became without me.  I didn’t raise you or Scott, but I couldn’t have raised better men than who you two turned out to be, although it hurts that I had no influence over either of you.

“Johnny, I’m sorry for not being there for you in the past.  The guilt over failing to locate you when you were a boy is suffocating.  I’ve more regrets than I can count; regrets about many things, but mostly you and Scott.  And I regret insisting that the past is the past, because I know it’s not.”

Though he didn’t show it, Johnny was surprised at his father’s admission. 

Yesterday’s killing of Tad Thomas prompted a flood of nightmarish ghosts from the past, but today’s confirmation of Murdoch’s revised thoughts brought a peace he’d not felt before.  A validation for the man Johnny Madrid was… the man that Johnny Madrid still was, from one of the three men Johnny admired most.

The shroud began to lift, allowing a flood of healing sun.  The support he’d never had before.  The stubborn cold he’d felt in his gut the last two days began to fade, replaced by warmth.  Was this what he’d missed his whole life?  Knowing Murdoch hadn’t approved of Madrid’s profession, he was now beginning to accept and, more, understand the whys and hows of what happened in Johnny’s life.  Yeah, that shroud was crumbling; shredding away to nothing.  And it felt good.

Johnny couldn’t hold back the chuckle.

“Don’t know about Scott, but you woulda had your hands full raisin’ me.”

Now it was Murdoch to grin.  The years-long weight of failure started to fray, dissolving into a fading memory of the past.  And now, clarity began to take its place.

“I have no doubt about that, son, but I would give anything to have had the chance,” he said softly.

They sat together in silence, each mulling over what the other had said; heart-wrenching truths, the baring of souls.  Father and son; the past was not the past until they spoke openly, truthfully, and put the past aside, not hidden, but acknowledged and talked through, then tucked away.  Not forgetting it, but learning from it.

As he remembered Murdoch’s admission, Johnny knew it was the right time for honesty.

“Well, now, I’m the one ta be sorry, Murdoch.”

The Patriarch caught a spark in his son’s eyes.

“Why should you be sorry, Johnny?”

“For doubting that you never looked for Mama an’ me.  I thought you hated us, an’ didn’t believe you’d waste the time lookin’ for people ya hated.”

It was brief, like a distant flash of lightning partially hidden in clouds, but Johnny saw pain in his father’s eyes before it was smothered.  Regret flashed in his, but this was a time for truth.  Healing would not happen if all the cards were not face up on the table. 

To Johnny’s surprise, Murdoch nodded as a twitch tugged the corner of his mouth.

Murdoch Lancer tilted his head as he considered his son.  The admission had hurt, but he acknowledged it was he who hadn’t wanted to discuss the past when Scott and Johnny returned home. 

“It sounds like the three of us are due for a talk.”  Murdoch sighed.  “I’ve put it off for far too long, son.  You and Scott need to know things about the past, and, well, I think it’s time.”

The simple act of suggesting ‘the’ talk was a relief, and the soft smile on Johnny’s face warmed his heart.

Murdoch looked out over Lancer land; lush pastures dotted with small, clear, stream-fed lakes spread out before him.  Purple-gray mountains framed the beauty.  It was a good day.

Murdoch knew Johnny had grown to love the land, but he also sensed there was more than an attachment that drew his younger son to these secluded places the ranch offered.  Honesty had been the theme of the conversation so far.  He had only to ask.

“Why do you come up here, son?”

Johnny breathed deep, mirroring his father moments before.

“It’s just me an’ Barranca.  No gunshots, no questions, nothin’.  It’s like nothin’ ever happened.”

Would Murdoch understand?  He’d throw it out there anyway.

“I come up here ta… hear the quiet.”

And Murdoch Lancer did understand. 

“Let’s go home, son.”

The hesitation stopped Murdoch as he turned and waited for Johnny to follow.  But his son remained where he was.

“Murdoch, if ya don’t mind, I think I wanna stay for a while.  I’ll be back later.”

Murdoch nodded, leaving Johnny and Madrid in the peace and quiet of the mountains with a new understanding of his son and his past life. The life of Madrid. 

A new bond between them, built on the truth of souls laid bare.

~end~
September 2025  

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