One More River to Ride by SandySha

Word count 50,808

*Much thanks to Terri Derr (Doc), the best beta in the world.  I couldn’t have done it without her.
*The story is dedicated to all those who have given me ‘gentle’ pushes over the last five years to ride the river once more.  I hope this final story doesn’t disappoint.
*This is a standalone story, but there are references to the previous stories in the series.  Yeah, that means reading the other eight would fill in the gaps.  
*A/R: Johnny is 20, and Scott is 24.  No, definitely not canon – Please don’t read it if you don’t like a younger Johnny. 
*Finally, my usual warning: If you don’t like to see Johnny larger than life, then step away now.

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9^th  and last in the Riding the River Series

*

April 1872
Twenty miles north of Green River on the Stockton Road

Murdoch Lancer was smiling.  What wasn’t there to smile about?  It was a beautiful day.  The trees lining the road were a vibrant green, shimmering in the sunlight and casting dancing shadows on the ground.  All around him, spring wildflowers were beginning to bloom, and a gentle, warm breeze carried their sweet scent through the air. 

Two weeks ago, he and his sons had set out on their first cattle drive together.  He couldn’t remember a drive going off without a hitch, but this one did.  They arrived in Stockton ahead of schedule and sold the herd for top dollar.  The tidy profit would see them through this year and into the next.

For years, he had herded Lancer beef to market.  Until the trouble with Pardee, Paul had always been by his side.  Over the past two weeks, he had thought about his friend more than once, recalling the good times they shared.  However, he now had new memories—memories of his boys ramrodding the drive. 

Arriving in Stockton two days early, Murdoch met with the buyer, and within an hour, the cattle were sold.  Once the men were paid, he joined his sons at the saloon to buy the first round.  It was a small thing, but something he’d dreamed of doing ever since the drive began.  Actually, it was something he’d dreamed of since becoming a father.   

After leaving the saloon, he made his way to the Excelsior Hotel to settle in for a quiet weekend.  While Scott and Johnny kept themselves busy, he relaxed with a good book and a bottle of white wine.  He hadn’t seen either of his sons until yesterday morning, when everyone gathered to head back to Lancer.

Now, they were on their way home.  Most of the money from selling the cattle had been deposited in the Bank of Stockton.  Murdoch would have brought all the cash with him, as he’d done in the past, but Scott strongly suggested wiring the funds to their bank in Green River.  As a result, instead of carrying twenty-five thousand dollars in cash in his saddlebags, Murdoch only had enough to cover expenses for the trip back home.

Murdoch glanced at Scott riding beside him, and his smile widened.  The slender, blonde young man sat tall in the saddle, his back straight and his head held high.  He looked every bit the cavalryman he was.  Scott had done well during the drive, and Murdoch couldn’t be prouder of him.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Murdoch turned his head to see Scott looking at him.  “Oh, I was just thinking about how nice it will be to get home tonight.”

“I agree.  Sleeping on the ground isn’t something I enjoy.  I guess I’ve gotten used to sleeping in my own bed.  How would Johnny put it?  I’m getting soft.”

Murdoch laughed, “I know what you mean.  My back can’t handle another night on the ground either.”

They rode along for a few minutes when Scott glanced at Murdoch’s face.  “You’re smiling.”

“I am?  Well, I have a right to smile.  It was a dream come true to have you and your brother with me on the drive this year.”

“Is this the way it is every year?”

“You mean, is it this easy?  No.  There are usually delays and problems along the trail.  I believe having you boys along made it go smoother.”   Murdoch tried to hide the concern in his voice.  “Why?” 

Scott laughed.  “I was just wondering because this is the most normal thing we’ve done in the last two years.”

“You’re right.”  Murdoch let his shoulders relax and smiled.  “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir, it does.”

Murdoch turned his attention back to the road ahead and thought about Scott’s words.  Life had felt anything but normal since his sons came home.  Two years ago, they were not only fighting for the ranch but also for their lives.  Pardee had nearly destroyed everything he had worked a lifetime to build. 

They had just started settling in as a family, a little over eighteen months ago, when Scott and Johnny went to Mexico with Val.  The long journey home after bringing his youngest son back across the border took a toll on all of them, especially Johnny.  Then last year, just when they thought things were returning to normal, they had to deal with Dan Billings and then Henry McLean.

One of the best things that came from the trip to Mexico, besides getting Johnny home safely, was meeting Larry Tate.  Teresa and the young gunfighter fell in love and got married just four months ago. 

Finally, with the new year, peace had come for the Lancers.  The closest thing to gunfighters that his 20-year-old son had seen, since Teresa’s wedding, were the men who had come with them from Mexico. Those men now came and went as welcome guests at the ranch.

Murdoch strained to see along the trail.  “Do you see Johnny?”

“No, but I imagine he’s up ahead, sitting under a tree waiting for us.”

Murdoch turned to look behind them.  Cipriano was riding beside the chuck wagon, and the rest of Lancer’s hands were trailing behind.

“What do you say we catch up with him? If we give your brother too much of a head start, he’s likely to get into trouble.”

Scott smiled.   “I hardly think he could find trouble out here.”

“Son, we’ve proven John can find trouble even in a church.”

They both laughed at the memory of the first time Johnny went to church with the family, and an earthquake had flattened Green River along with the church and them inside.

Murdoch turned in the saddle.  “Cip!” he called to his Segundo.  “We’re riding ahead.  We’ll find a place for the noon camp.”

Cipriano waved. “Si, Patron.” 

Murdoch and Scott rode for ten minutes before spotting Barranca standing under the trees to their right.  As expected, Johnny was sitting against a tree with his hat pulled over his eyes.

Even before they reached him, the boy lifted his head and said, “Took your time getting here.”

“I didn’t realize we were on a schedule,” Scott replied as he stopped and dismounted. 

Murdoch joined his sons on the ground. It felt good to be in the cool shade.  “How long have you been here?” 

“Oh, about half an hour.”  Johnny looked back down the trail.  “Where are the others?”

“They’re on their way.  We thought we would ride ahead to join you.”

Johnny grinned.  “You missed me?”

“Not really.  We just didn’t want you getting into trouble,” Scott said.

Johnny looked around and shrugged.  “Trouble?  Me?  Out here?”

Murdoch and Scott looked at each other and laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, son.  You just reminded us why we came looking for you.”

Johnny smiled and figured they’d come ahead of the others to keep an eye on him.

After a few minutes of rest, Murdoch got up.  “We should start moving if we want to be home tonight.  I told Cipriano we’d find a place for noon camp.” He walked to his horse, mounted up, and waited for his sons.

Scott quickly remounted and stared at his brother.  “Are you coming?”

Johnny laughed and mounted Barranca.  Reining the horse around, he joined his father and brother as they rode on.

Looking over his shoulder, Johnny frowned.  “Murdoch, how far back are the rest of the men?”

“Not far.  I’d say about ten minutes.  Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Something bothering you, brother?”

Johnny ran his hand along the back of his neck.  He had been feeling uneasy for a while, and old instincts from years of watching his back trail were coming back. 

Then, without really thinking about it, Johnny said, “I’m real glad you didn’t bring all the cattle money with you.”

Murdoch sat up straighter.  “You think they’ll be trouble?”

“I don’t know.  Guess I’m always expecting trouble.” 

“Don’t worry, Johnny, I’ll protect you,” Scott laughed.

Johnny smiled, but didn’t find it funny.  He knew deep down something wasn’t right. 

---

Sitting among the boulders that overlooked the Stockton Road, Lloyd Melson tilted his head back and squinted.  A slow smile spread across his face as he followed the sun’s path across the sky; it was almost noon.

His eyes shifted to the winding road.  When he noticed a rider turning off the road and heading up the hillside toward him, he stood up and raised his rifle.  He relaxed when he recognized the man as one of his own.

Brad Hoyt stopped at the top of the hill.  “The Lancers are riding ahead of the others.”

“How far?”

Hoyt smiled.  “Far enough.”

“Alright, get down and get ready.”

Hoyt leapt out of the saddle, grabbed his rifle, and got into position.

Settling back against the warm rocks, the sandy-haired Melson studied the men with him.  They weren’t much, but they’d do for what needed to be done today.  To his left were the dark-haired brothers, 22-year-old Emmett Davis and 20-year-old Billy, both holding rifles as if they knew how to handle them.  As far as Melson was concerned, they were both as green as grass.  

Emmett looked excited, but Melson could tell Billy was upset.  It didn’t matter, though.  The boy would do anything his older brother told him to do, and Emmett would follow any orders Melson gave.

A few feet to Melson’s right, Brad Hoyt looked down at the road below.  Hoyt was a couple of years older than Emmett, but Melson wasn’t interested in Hoyt’s age; it didn’t matter.  What mattered was that Hoyt also followed orders.

He raised up for one more look and sighed.  He’d waited a long time for what was about to come. 

---

Emmett Davis looked at Melson.  There wasn’t much about the man he liked or trusted.  Emmett knew the older man didn’t think much of him and believed he didn’t have enough brains to pour piss out of a boot.  That was alright because after they got their cut, he and Billy planned to get as far from Melson as they could.

He shook his head, remembering how it had started.  Had it really been just six weeks?  Somehow, it seemed longer.

It was just like any other Saturday night, with him and Billy sitting with Hoyt in a Green River saloon, playing cards, when Melson walked in and joined them.

The atmosphere was relaxed, and the game was friendly.  The men were getting along well until the conversation turned to work, or the lack of it.  Hoyt mentioned he was thinking about hiring on with a local ranch for a cattle drive to Stockton.

Thinking back, it seemed that when Melson found out the ranch was Lancer, he jumped at the idea of all of them hiring on.  It was short work, but they all needed the money, and there was a chance the rancher would keep them on permanently.

The next morning, the four men rode out to the ranch.  They got lucky when the Mexican Segundo hired them on the spot.  The round-up started the next day, followed by the drive to Stockton a month later.

During the drive, they overheard some of the other men talking and learned that old man Lancer always carried the sale money back to the ranch with him.

When they reached Stockton and found out the cattle sold for nearly $25,000, Melson planted the idea that they could make more money by stealing from the rancher instead of working for him. 

At first, Emmett wasn’t sure he wanted to go through with it, but the thought of having enough money to buy a ranch when they got back home blinded him to the right and wrong of it.  From the beginning, Billy hadn’t been happy with the plan, but… well, Emmett knew the boy wouldn’t go against him.

Two days ago, they’d drawn their pay, but stayed in town long enough to find out when the Lancers planned to head home.  

---

Billy Davis shifted his gaze to his brother and nervously licked his lips. Uncertainty gnawed at him, and a knot tightened in his stomach.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to go through with this. “Emmett,” he whispered, his voice shaky, “what if Hoyt’s wrong and Lancer shows up down there with the whole crew?”

“Then we think of something else,” Emmett snapped.

“Calm down, Billy Boy.  It won’t be long, and you’ll be rich.” Melson’s cold, icy voice sent a shiver down the boy’s spine.

Billy scooted closer to his brother.  “Emmett, I don’t feel right doing this.  I like the Lancers.  They were good to us.”

Emmett Davis looked at his little brother and knew he was right.  The Lancers had been good to them.  It wasn’t too late to back out.  He started to speak up when he heard horses on the road below.

“Here they come!” The excitement in Hoyt’s voice was unmistakable.

“Now remember, no one fires until I do,” Melson said, with a grin.  “Now, get ready.”

“Melson, maybe we shouldn’t do this.”  Emmett saw the relief on Billy’s face.  “We don’t know how far behind the rest of the men are.”

“If the Lancers are riding ahead, like Hoyt said, then we’ll have time to bring them down, get the money, and get away before the others get here.  Now, get ready.” 

Melson raised his rifle and rested it on the rock in front of him.

Billy looked at his brother.  “Emmett….?”

Emmett shook his head.  “Look, just do what I do, Billy.  It’s gonna be alright.  We’ll get the money and head back to Texas.  We’ll have enough to get that horse ranch we’ve always wanted.”

“Emmett, I don’t want to kill.”

“We ain’t gonna kill them.”

Unconvinced, Billy started to stand up when Melson turned on him.  “If you don’t want to do this, kid, fine, but sit down and… shut up!”  

Before Billy could object, Melson aimed and fired.  Then Hoyt and Emmett did the same.  Billy closed his eyes and covered his ears until the shooting stopped.  Slowly, he got up and looked over the edge of the rock he had been hiding behind.

Billy felt his heart sink as a wave of dread washed over him.

---

“Admit it, you missed me,” Johnny laughed.

“Yes, son, we—.”

Murdoch never finished his sentence. He gasped as a hot poker seemed to slam into him, just moments before gunfire shattered the air’s stillness. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, acutely aware of the spreading pain and the warmth of his own blood seeping into the dirt beneath him.

As his vision faded, Murdoch heard an agonized scream and knew it was Scott.   His last thoughts were of the two young men he loved more than anything—more than life itself.  It wasn’t fair; they hadn’t had enough time together.

---

Johnny turned in his saddle to look at Murdoch when he saw a surprised look on his father’s face, a split second before hearing a gunshot. 

Murdoch clutched his chest, slumped over his horse’s neck, and slid to the ground.  At the same time, another bullet hit Johnny in his left shoulder.

As blood sprayed across the saddle and Barranca’s white mane, the panicked horse sidestepped.  Johnny tried to hang on, but couldn’t — he flew out of the saddle and hit the dirt road.

Struggling to his feet, Johnny saw his father lying a few feet away, blood spreading across his chest. Turning, he looked up at Scott as another shot ricocheted across the ground near Scott’s horse. The horse reared, but Scott held on, fighting for control.

More shots peppered the ground around them, and Barranca reared again before turning and running back the way they had come.

All Johnny could think about was reaching Murdoch.  He took a step forward when another bullet struck him in the side, spinning him around.  He landed on his back in front of Scott’s horse.

Scott, stunned by everything happening around him, jerked sharply on the reins to avoid his brother. Charlie reared up, then dropped onto his hindquarters. Despite his best effort, he couldn’t hold on and slid off.

As Charlie struggled to stand, he lost his footing and rolled over.  Scott screamed as his left leg snapped like a brittle branch.   When Charlie scrambled back to his feet, his right front hoof struck Scott’s head.

Scott’s scream was the last thing Johnny heard before the darkness swallowed him.

---

Melson lowered his rifle and looked at the three men lying on the road below him.

“Let’s go.”  Melson turned with a smile.  “We’re about to be rich.  Hoyt, go after the old man’s horse.  I want those saddlebags.”

Brad Hoyt had a similar smile as he mounted his horse.  Looking down at the road, he quickly spotted Murdoch’s horse.

Billy Davis hung back and stared at his brother.   “Emmett…?”

“It’s done.” Emmett grabbed his younger brother’s shoulder and shoved him toward the horses.  “There’s no help for it now.  Let’s get our share of the money and get out of here.”

By the time Emmett and Billy Davis reached the road, Hoyt had already gotten Murdoch’s horse, and Melson was already digging through the saddlebags. 

Billy glanced at Melson and Hoyt to see if either of them was watching him.  The two men were only interested in the contents of the saddlebags. 

As Billy hurried over to Murdoch, he heard Hoyt’s excited voice, “Well, let’s see it.” 

Kneeling beside the rancher, Billy felt a wave of relief when he saw Murdoch’s chest rise and fall.  Then, he went to check on Scott and cringed at the sight of Lancer’s oldest son’s mangled body. 

“Is he dead?” Billy jumped at Emmett’s voice.  Turning around, he saw his brother standing beside him.

“I don’t know, but he’s hurt bad, Emmett.” Billy had gone pale.  “Look at his leg.  We have to help him.  We have to help them all.”

“We can’t.  Once we get the money, we’re gonna ride out of here as fast as we can.  The rest of the men will be along soon enough.”  Emmett looked toward Johnny’s body.  “What about him?”

“I haven’t checked him.”

Billy was walking toward Johnny when he heard Melson curse, “All that’s in here is about $500.”

Hoyt pushed Melson aside and looked at the bills he was holding.  “You said—”

“I know what I said.  You heard Cipriano and Walt talking just like I did.  Lancer always brought the sale money back to the ranch with him,” Melson said as his eyes shifted to Murdoch.  “Let’s check to see if he has it on him.”

“No.” Hoyd grabbed Melson’s arm, stopping him.  “We have to get out of here.”  

Billy’s eyes widened.  “Emmett, we shot them for $500?”

“Looks like it.”  Emmett grabbed Billy’s arm and pushed him toward his horse.

“No.” Billy pulled away.  “I’ve got to check on Johnny.”

Billy was almost next to Johnny when he heard Melson’s threatening voice.  “No, you don’t.  I want to see for myself that he’s dead.”

Melson drew his gun and started walking toward Johnny when he heard the thunder of hooves pounding the ground.  “Damn,” he cursed, his eyes flicking from Johnny to Murdoch and then to a dust cloud that was getting closer.  “Mount up.”

Billy watched Melson holster his revolver and run back to his horse.  He turned to give Johnny a last look and was startled when he saw dark blue eyes staring at him.  Looking over his shoulder to make sure no one noticed, Billy gave his head a slight shake and raised a finger to his lips, praying Johnny didn’t make a sound.

“We’ve got to go, Billy.” Emmett grabbed his brother again and, this time, pulled him back to his horse.  

Billy mounted his horse, wishing he could turn back time.  As they rode away, Billy glanced back and knew with all his heart that he and his brother had been part of something that was going to get them killed.

---

“Cipriano!”  Walt yelled and pointed ahead on the road.

Cipriano raised his eyes to the distance to see Barranca running full out towards them.

Walt and Cipriano kicked their horses forward to stop the palomino.   Cipriano blocked the horse’s path long enough for Walt to grab the dragging reins.  One look at the blood-covered horse was all either man needed. 

“Frank, take care of Barranca.  Pedro, bring the wagon and follow us,” Cipriano ordered.  “The rest of you come with me.”

Cipriano spurred his horse into a gallop, knowing the Patron and his hijos were in trouble.

Less than five minutes after finding Barranca, the men from Lancer spotted something on the road.   Cipriano recognized Murdoch’s horse, standing over his body, and Señor Scott’s horse off to the right, with its foreleg raised.   It wasn’t until they got closer that they saw Scott lying just a few feet from his father.

Cipriano yanked the reins so hard that his horse threw its head and fought the bit.  He leapt from the saddle, with only one thought— to reach the Lancers.

The old vaquero knelt next to Murdoch and placed a hand on his chest.  He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he watched the man’s chest rise and fall.  Glancing around, he took in the scene—men were dismounting and running to help Scott, but where was Johnny? 

“Juanito,” he looked around frantically.  “Where is Juanito?” 

“Here,” Jacobs called out.  “He’s over here.”

Cipriano was torn between staying with Murdoch and going to Johnny.   Looking down at the pale face of the man he’d been loyal to for most of his life, he made his decision.

Cipriano placed his hand over Murdoch’s bleeding wound and yelled over his shoulder, “Is Juanito alive?”

Jacobs took a long moment before saying, “He’s alive.”

Cipriano lowered his head and exhaled slowly.  “How badly is he hurt?”

Jacobs turned to glance at the Segundo and shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Bad.”

Leaving Scott to Joe and Jose, Walt went to help Cipriano.  “They need a doctor.”

“Si.  First, we stop the bleeding.  What of Señor Scott?”

“Looks like his horse rolled over on him.  His left leg is broke for sure, and he’s got a gash on his head.  Maybe some broken ribs, but I just don’t know.”   Walt looked up to see the wagon coming down the road.  “Where do we take them?  Green River or the ranch?”

Cipriano knew without thinking.   “The ranch.  It is closer.  Walt, send Juan for Doctor Jenkins.  Also, have him tell Señor Val.”

Juan heard Cipriano and quickly mounted his horse and rode away without a backward glance.

Walt looked around and shook his head.  “Who would have done something like this and why?  If they were after Johnny, they’d have made sure he was dead.”

Frank picked up Murdoch’s saddlebags.  “Looks like whatever they wanted was in these.”

Cipriano looked over his shoulder to see Frank tipping the empty bags.

“The drive money,” Walt stated.

“Señor Lancer was not carrying the money,” Cipriano said.  His hands and eyes never left his Patron’s wound. 

Walt and Frank looked at each other and then back at Cipriano.

“He put it in the bank in Stockton.  It is to be wired to the bank in Green River.”

“That’s a first, isn’t it?” Frank said.  “I mean, the boss usually brings it back with him.”

“Si, but this time, Señor Scott said it would be safer to wire it to Green River.”

“Looks like he was right.”

Cipriano’s gaze shifted away from Murdoch to where Johnny was lying.

Understanding Cipriano’s need to check on Johnny, Frank bent down next to the Murdoch.

“I’ll take over here.   You go on.”

Cipriano nodded and stood up, leaving Murdoch in Frank’s care.  Walking the short distance to where Johnny lay, he went down on his knees and started to touch the boy’s face.  Looking at his bloodied hands, he wiped them on his pants.

“Juanito?” Cipriano’s hand moved to Johnny’s pale face.  “Sobrino, por favor, open your eyes.”

Cipriano lowered his head and heaved a sigh. 

“Tio.”  The whispered word and slight movement under his hands were enough to bring Cipriano’s head up.  “Juanito.”

“Mur…doch, Scott?”

“Do not talk.  We will get you home.”

“How… How bad?” The words were nothing more than gasped whispers.

Cipriano looked over his shoulder to where Frank was still putting pressure on Murdoch’s wound.

“Tell me!”  Johnny tried to raise his head to look past his uncle.

“Lay still, Juanito.”

Tears escaped from the corners of Johnny’s eyes.  “They’re dead…aren’t they?”

“No, sobrino, they live, but…”

“Tio, por favor dígame.”   (Uncle, please tell me)

“Ellas están heridas muy mal.”  (They are hurt very bad)

Johnny strained to get up.  “I need to see them.”

“Juanito, there is nothing you can do.  If you move, you will bleed.”

Johnny slumped back to the ground.

“Who did this?” Cipriano asked.  “Who shot you?”

“Ambushed….” Johnny coughed.  “… the cattle money.”

Johnny moaned and stifled a scream when Jacobs removed the folded bandana from the wound in his side and replaced it with another.  

“Who?  Who was it?” Cipriano asked again.

“Four…”

“Did you see them?”

A slight nod from Johnny’s head was enough to send a wave of pain through him.  He took a breath and coughed out, “The men who left us in Stockton.”

“Melson?” Jacobs asked, surprised at the answer.  “You’re sure?”

Johnny opened his eyes and stared at Jacobs.   “I know who I saw.  Melson, Hoyt, and …,” his breath caught with the pain, “the Davis brothers.”

“Do not worry, sobrino.  We will catch them.”

Johnny clenched his teeth.  With all his strength, he answered, “No, Tio.” Even through the pain, Johnny’s voice changed.  No longer was it Johnny Lancer speaking; it was Johnny Madrid.  “I’ll track’em down.”

Cipriano lifted his gaze, locking eyes with the Lancer men who had moved closer to catch Johnny’s words.  Every man present understood the grim reality: the fate of the four men who ambushed the Lancers was sealed.

---

Four determined and desperate men galloped south.  They hadn’t stopped since leaving the Lancers lying in their own blood.

Billy Davis was the first to slow down and stop, giving his exhausted horse a moment to catch its breath.  “Hold up!  Hold up!  If we keep this up, we’ll tire these horses out.”

Melson stopped and turned in the saddle.  Looking back at the way they’d come, he took a breath.  “It looks like there ain’t no one following us.  Billy’s right, we need to take a break.”

Emmett Davis stepped down from his horse and knelt on the ground.   He looked at Melson with daggers in his eyes.  “You realize what we’ve done, don’t you?”  He pointed north.  “They won’t ever stop looking for us.”

Melson grinned.  “The Lancers are all dead.  No one’s coming after us, and even if someone did come, they don’t know we killed them.”

“That’s right,” Brad Hoyt laughed.  “They don’t know who we are.”

Billy dismounted and looked at Melson and Hoyt.  “They know.”

Melson stormed over to Billy, standing close enough for Billy to smell Melson’s bad breath.  “Whadda you mean, they know?”

The boy took a step back.  “Johnny’s alive.  He looked me straight in the eyes.”

“Son of a bitch,” Hoyt cussed.  “Why the hell didn’t you tell us?  We should have killed him… You should have killed him.”

Billy shook his head.  “I didn’t want to shoot them to start with.  Besides, the others were coming.  There wasn’t any time.”

Melson took a breath and shook his head.  “Damn, boy.  Do you know what Madrid is gonna do to you, whether you pulled the trigger or not?”

Hoyt stepped forward.  “Madrid?  What the hell are you talking about, Melson?”

Lloyd Melson threw his head back and laughed.  “You fools don’t even know who you’ve been riding with these last few weeks.”

“Melson?” Emmett Davis said.

“The name’s not Melson.  It’s Farley Campbell.”

Now, three men stood there, mouths hanging open and confused.  It was Hoyt who broke the silence.  “Why not tell us your real name before now?”

Melson grinned, “I had my reasons for not using my real name.” 

“And who do you think we’ve been working for all this time?” Melson/Campbell asked.

“Murdoch Lancer, of course,” Emmet answered.

Hoyt laughed, “That’s who—”

Campbell smirked.  “But Murdoch Lancer has two sons.  Scott… now he’s from back east — born in California and raised in Boston.”

“We know that,” Emmett snapped.

“Well, do you know about the other one?  Johnny didn’t always go by the name Lancer.  Until last year, he was using a different name.  You might have heard of him — Johnny Madrid.”

Hoyt’s face paled.  He wasn’t laughing anymore.  “Madrid?”   

Billy sank to the ground, his head in his hands.  “We’re dead men.”  

Emmett slapped the back of his brother’s head.  “Stop that.  We ain’t dead yet.”  He turned to Campbell.  “Give us our share of the money.  We’re splitting up right here.” 

Campbell flashed his usual grin.  “Alright.  You get your share.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope of money he’d taken from Murdoch’s saddlebag.  “Five hundred dollars split four ways.”  He counted out one hundred twenty-five dollars each. 

“So, where are you headed?” Campbell asked as he handed Emmett and Billy their shares. 

“Home,” Emmett answered as he took the money and counted it.  “Texas.  What about you?” 

Campbell thought for a moment.  “Me, I’m heading south, first to Yuma and then into Mexico.  Madrid won’t go there.  After what happened last year in Nogales, he wouldn’t dare set foot below the border.”

Hoyt took his share and began counting it. 

Campbell sneered, “Don’t trust me?”

“About as much as I would a rattler.”  He stuffed the money in his inside vest pocket.  “I’d still like to know what you had against the Lancers?”

“Not all of them.  Just one.  Just Madrid, and what I have against him is still my business.”  

Campbell turned and climbed into the saddle.  “I’ll be seeing you boys.” He tipped his hat and rode off.”

Brad Hoyt and the Davis brothers watched the dust cloud rise behind Campbell. 

Hoyt turned to Emmett.  “You really going to Texas?”

Emmett nodded.  “It’s safer than California.”  He looked at the money in his hand and shook his head.  “One hundred and twenty-five dollars.   We should never have gone along with Mel…Campbell.”   He looked at Hoyt.  “What do you think he’s got against Johnny?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that if the Lancer boy is Johnny Madrid and he’s still alive, none of our lives are worth a plugged nickel.  He won’t stop until he finds us, and he’s got a lot of friends.”

Emmett tapped Billy’s arm.  “Mount up.  We need to get some more distance between us and Green River.”

Billy quietly obeyed his brother’s orders and mounted his horse, haunted by the memory of Johnny’s piercing blue eyes.  He knew that, whether as Lancer or Madrid, Johnny would come after them— if he was still alive.  In Billy’s mind, though, he knew he was living on borrowed time.

---

Frank stood and shook his head.  “This is no good.  We need to get them to the ranch.”

Cipriano looked at the destruction left behind by Melson and his partners.  A shiver ran down his spine at the extent of the damage.  Despite his efforts and those of the ranch hands, it was clear that the three injured men desperately needed a doctor.

“Hank, Walt,” Cipriano snapped, “Empty the chuckwagon.  We’ll use it to get them home.”

“Hefe …?” Pedro began.

“We’ll send men back for what is left behind.”

Pedro nodded and joined Walt and Hank as they began throwing anything they could from the wagon.  Once it was emptied, they set about loading their fragile cargo.  Six men bent to lift an unresponsive Murdoch and eased him into the back of the wagon.  With him settled, they went to Scott.

Frank looked at the Segundo.  “I don’t know about moving Scott.  We’ve braced his leg, but…”

“Si, I know,” Cipriano responded sharply.  “I know… but we will do what we must and leave the rest to Dios.”

The men carefully lifted Scott into the wagon and laid him next to his father.  

Finally, they moved to a half-conscious Johnny.  Cipriano knelt on one knee.  “Juanito, we must get you to the hacienda.  The Patron and Señor Scott are in the wagon.”

Johnny slightly opened his eyes and nodded, aware of what was about to happen.

Just as Cipriano placed a hand under his back and started to lift, Johnny reached out and stopped him.  “They’re still alive, Tio?”

Cipriano tried not to look away as he uttered one word, “Si.”

A tear rolled down his cheek. “La verdad?” (The truth)

Cipriano swallowed hard, his heart breaking for his nephew. “No te mentiría, no, no sobre eso.”  (I would not lie to you, not about that.)

Johnny took a breath and nodded.  “I’m ready.”

With Cipriano on one side and Frank on the other, the two men lifted Johnny.

Even though he expected it, the motion caused a searing pain to shoot through his entire body.  Despite his best efforts, Johnny couldn’t stop the scream he had been desperately trying to hold back. 

“He’s passed out,” Frank said as Johnny’s dark head sank against his chest, and the boy’s body went slack.

“Gracias a Dios,” Cipriano said.  “Now, hurry, we must get them home.  I told Juanito his Papa and hermano were alive.  I do not want it to be a lie.   Tie the Patron’s horse and Barranca to the back of the wagon.  Hank, you will walk Señor Scott’s horse to the ranch, but go slowly.” 

With the wagon loaded, Pedro flicked the reins, prompting the team of horses to begin their journey toward Lancer. 

---

Val Crawford leaned over his horse’s neck, slapping the reins left and right as he urged it forward.  Both man and horse were gasping for air, but he wouldn’t stop. 

Suddenly, his horse stumbled and faltered.  Val realized his mistake and cursed himself.  He stopped, dismounted, and bent over to grasp his knees, trying to catch his breath.  He glanced toward Lancer, knowing there was nothing he could do once he got there, but still felt an overwhelming urge to get there anyway.

Only an hour ago, he was sitting in his office, cleaning off his desk and getting ready for the weekend.   The day started just like any other in Green River.  The only difference was that by the end of it, he would have taken a leisurely ride out to Lancer and sat down with the family who had welcomed him as one of their own.  

Val glanced up as the office door swung open, and Sam Jenkins stepped inside.

“Sam.  What brings you by?  Anyone sick?”

“No.  No one’s sick.”

“Then—”

“Murdoch and the boys are due back today, aren’t they?”

Val smiled.  “They sure are?”

“Are you planning to go to Lancer for dinner?”

Val nodded.  “Sure do.  I bet Maria…”

The sound of a horse running down Green River’s main street was never a good sign.  When he stepped outside his office and saw Juan heading toward Sam’s office, his heart sank.  It could only mean one thing: someone was hurt.

Hurrying across the street with Sam right behind him, Val caught Juan’s attention.  “What’s wrong?”

Juan took a breath.  “There was an ambush.  They have been shot.”

“Who?  Who was shot?”

“All of them.  The Patron…the Patron and Señor Scott and Juanito.  They have all been shot.”

Val left Juan to help Sam get his buggy and any supplies he might need, while he rode out of Green River as if the devil himself was after him.

Now, all he could do was pray that the family he’d become part of was all right.  Taking another breath, Val turned to his horse and sighed, “Just a little further.”  Remounting, he started again, this time a little slower but still with a prayer on his lips.

---

Even before driving under the arch, Sam could see a flurry of activity outside the hacienda.  Vaqueros were running across the yard and through the French doors, carrying buckets of what Sam could only guess was water.  Women met them at the house and disappeared inside.

Bringing his buggy to a stop, Sam got out and grabbed his medical bag.  As he stepped into the Great Room, he was greeted with a scene of chaos.

He hadn’t truly believed that all the Lancers were wounded until this moment.  Around the room, he saw women gathered in three groups.  In the center, Maria was working to restore order.

When Sam caught her eyes, he saw relief that he was there.  He walked across the room to join her.  “How bad?”

“The Patron…” She turned toward where Murdoch was lying on a pallet near his desk.  “He barely breathes; the wound is in his chest.” She placed a hand over her own heart.  “I think you should see him first.”

“What about Scott and Johnny?”

“Señor Scott,” she pointed to the group of women near the fireplace.  “There is much damage.  Cipriano says his horse must have fallen onto him.” 

“Is he awake?”

Maria shook her head.  “No.  Not since it happened.”

Sam’s brows furrowed.  “Not at all?”

“No.”

Sam looked at the last group of women gathered around Johnny.  He saw Val kneeling beside the boy.  On the other side, Lupe sat close, gently dabbing a damp cloth on Johnny’s face.  “Juan said Johnny was shot twice.”

“Si, dos.  The bleeding…it has stopped, but there is much pain, and already he has a fever.”

“Try to keep him quiet.  I’ll give him something for the pain.  Now, have some men move Murdoch to the kitchen table.”

Maria nodded and, without a word, carried out his instructions. 

As Sam went to check on Scott, he saw several men lifting Murdoch off the floor and carrying him into the kitchen.

Struggling to lower himself beside Scott on the floor, Sam’s heart sank as he examined the young man’s frail figure.  The pallor of his skin appeared ghostly in the dim light of the room.  He lifted Scott’s eyelids—his pupils were large and unresponsive, confirming his suspicion of a concussion.

Turning back the blanket, he ran a hand over Scott’s chest.  His chest was covered with deep purple bruises, and he had at least two broken ribs.

Next, he examined the young man’s legs.  The left was badly broken; there was no doubt about it.

Sam closed his eyes and prayed there was no internal bleeding.

“Sam.” 

Turning, the doctor saw Teresa, her dress and hands covered in blood, with tears streaking down her face.   

“Sam, Murdoch’s ready for you.”

“I’ll be right there.  Have Maria boil my instruments.  We’ll need a lot of hot water and—”

“Maria and I know what to do.  Lord knows we’ve had enough practice, but please, just…,” her voice faltered.  “Please.  I can’t lose them.

Sam slowly stood, closed the gap between them, and wrapped an arm around the slender woman.   “I’ll do my best.”  Releasing Teresa, he dug into his bag and took out a small brown bottle.  “Give Johnny some of this, just a teaspoon.  It should keep him quiet until I can get to him.”

Teresa looked at the bottle of laudanum.  “You know he’s going to fight me on this.”

“Teresa, it’s going to take some time to deal with Murdoch and Scott.  Maybe hours.”

Teresa sighed, “I know.  I’ll do my best.”

Sam started toward the kitchen, then stopped.  Turning around, he moved toward Johnny.  The boy’s eyes were closed.  His upper body, shirtless, was covered with a thin sheen of sweat and blood-stained bandages on his left shoulder and right side.

Sam lowered himself next to the dark-haired boy.  “John.”

At the sound of his name, Johnny’s eyes slowly opened.  “Sam.”

Sam smiled and placed a hand on Johnny’s good shoulder.  “Are you doing alright?”

“Murdoch… Scott…”

“I know, son.  I’m going to operate on Murdoch now.  I gave Teresa some laudanum for you.  Please take it, and no arguments.  If I’m going to have any chance of saving all three of you, I need to take my time.  Do you understand?”

“You don’t want me causing you any trouble?”

Sam’s smile widened.  “That’s right.  Now, Lupe will stay with you and try to keep the fever down.  I’ll see to Murdoch first and then Scott.”

Johnny raised his right hand and grabbed Sam’s wrist.  “You…,” he took a breath.  “You make sure they come through alright.   Don’t worry about me.”

Sam nodded and then pushed himself up. 

With laudanum in hand, Teresa took his place.  “I’ll be in to help as soon as I get Johnny settled.”

“No.” Sam shook his head.  “Not this time.”

“But, Sam, I’ve seen you operate before.  I was there when you took the bullet out of Murdoch after Pardee shot him.  I was there for Johnny every time…”

Sam raised a hand to stop her.  “I know.”

“So, why…?”

“Teresa,” an exasperated Sam took a deep breath.  “It’s going to be a long night. Maria is going to help me, and I need you to watch over Scott and Johnny and try to get some rest.  They’re going to need you.  If you’re exhausted, you’ll be no help to me or anyone else.”

Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, Teresa nodded.   “Alright, but Sam, please…”

“You know I’ll do everything I can.  Now, do what you have to for Scott and Johnny while I get started.”

Maria appeared in the Great Room.  “Señor Sam, everything is ready.”

Sam took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves.  His gaze swept across the room.  Everyone was watching him, expecting him to perform a miracle.

Walking into the well-lit kitchen, Sam saw that everything was ready. 

Teresa stood in the doorway.  “If you need more lamps, Sam, let me know—.” 

“I will, now… no, wait, before you go, would you put on a pot of coffee and open the windows?  It’s going to get hot in here, but I’m going to need something to keep me going.”

Teresa set about doing as Sam asked.  Once the coffee was done, Maria waved her out.  “Go.  Take care of the others and then get some sleep, Nina.”

“I’ll try, but…,” she hesitated and looked at the table where the only father she had lay.  “I’ll try.”

As Teresa turned and walked away, Sam Jenkins moved closer to the wooden table where he was about to perform the operation.  Looking down at his friend’s bare chest, he sighed; it never got easier.   He had known Murdoch Lancer for more than twenty years and had treated him so many times, he had stopped counting.  In the last two years, he had removed two bullets from him—no, now three.

Sam looked at Maria and took a deep breath.  He held out his right hand.  “Scalpel.” 

After two exhausting hours of operating on Murdoch, Sam looked down at his patient and nodded in satisfaction.  It went better than he expected.  The bullet wasn’t as close to the heart as he had feared, but it was still close enough to cause concern. 

Teresa waited in the doorway while Sam finished.  “You need to rest before you start on Scott.”

Sam shook his head.  “There’s no time.  The longer I wait to set his bones, the more damage there will be later.  Has he come around at all?”

“I thought he was, but…no, not really.”

“Can you get some men to carry Murdoch to his room?”

Teresa stepped aside and waved to the waiting ranch hands.  Gently, they lifted Murdoch’s large frame from the table and carried him out of the kitchen.  At the same time, four more men were settling Scott onto the wooden surface.

Sam decided to take a moment to check on Johnny.  He walked out of the kitchen and glanced at where Johnny lay.  “Lupe, how is he?”

“He fights the laudanum, and the wounds bleed again.”

Sam shook his head and sighed.  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?  I wouldn’t expect anything different.  Just try to keep him quiet.” 

Returning to the kitchen where Teresa was waiting, Sam glanced at Scott’s battered body.  “This is going to take some time.”

“You do what you have to, Sam.  Johnny understands.”

A few minutes later, he started Scott’s surgery.  There were cracked and broken ribs, a broken left leg, and a severe concussion to deal with. 

It wasn’t until Sam stepped back to assess his work that he noticed the morning sun streaming through the kitchen windows.  On the table in front of him, Scott looked like a mummy, wrapped in layers of crisp, white bandages that clung tightly to his head and chest.  A heavy plaster cast covered his left leg.  

 Sam took a deep breath, and a wave of concern washed over him.  It wasn’t the sight of the boy’s broken bones that twisted his gut with fear; instead, it was the possibility of nerve damage in Scott’s lower back that truly worried him.  The thought of such an injury, lingering and potentially life-changing, sent a chill through him.

Shaking himself, Sam knew he didn’t have time to think about Scott now.  It was Johnny’s turn.  The boy had waited long enough.

---

Sam looked down at Johnny and met his fevered eyes.  “I’m going to give you something to put you to sleep.  When you wake up, you’ll be in your room.”

“Murdoch and Scott?” The words were spoken so softly that Sam had to lean in closer to hear them.

“They’re already in their rooms.”

Unshed tears glistened in Johnny’s pleading eyes.

Sam hesitated, “I know what you’re asking, but for now, they’re alive.”  He gently placed a reassuring hand on Johnny’s uninjured shoulder.  “Let’s get you fixed up, and then I’ll check on them.”

After an hour, the last bullet fragment clinked as Sam dropped it into a metal pan beside the table.  He took a deep breath and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Sam.”

The doctor turned his head to see Val in the doorway.  “I’m almost done.  All I have to do is sew him up.”

“Murdoch and Scott, are they…?”

“Val…” Sam sighed heavily.  “Look…I’m sorry, but I don’t know, and right now, I’m too tired to guess.  Let me get Johnny finished.”

Val gave Johnny a quick look and nodded.  “Teresa has his room ready.”

“Good.” Sam leaned against the kitchen counter, stretching his neck.  How long had it been since he had slept?

“Can you tell me anything?”

Sam looked up, confused.  “What?”

“Can you tell me anything about the bullets…the wounds…anything?”

Sam blew out a breath.  “All the bullets came from rifles.  One hit Murdoch in the chest, and two went into Johnny.  Scott wasn’t shot.”

“What about the angle of the bullets?”

Sam ran a hand over his face, too tired to think, but knew Val needed the information.   “I’d say the shooters were above them.”

“Anything else?”

“No.  That’s all I’ve got for you, Val.”

“Cipriano is taking me out to where it happened.  I’m gonna try to track them down.”

Sam closed his eyes, trying not to nod off.

“Look, Doc, you need to get to bed.”

“Yes…Yes, I will, but first, I need to check on Murdoch and Scott.”

---

Sam Jenkins was sleeping deeply when he felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him.

“Sam!”  He recognized Teresa’s voice.  “I’m sorry to wake you, but you have to come.”

Sam propped himself up and tried to shake off the mental fog of sleep.  “Which one?”

“All of them,” Teresa gasped.  “They all have fevers.  Johnny’s got worse almost right away.  Now Murdoch and Scott…”

“Alright, I’m coming,” he said, wiping his eyes and yawning.  “I’ll splash some water on my face and meet you in Johnny’s room.”

Sam struggled out of bed, searching for his pants.  He was going toward Johnny’s room when he decided he had better visit the outhouse first. 

After going back upstairs, he found Carmen was leaning over Johnny’s bed, wiping his face and neck with a damp cloth.

“How is he?” Sam asked.

Carmen shook her head.

“Let me see.” Carmen stepped aside, and Sam took her place, placing a hand on Johnny’s forehead.  It was clear the boy’s temperature was rising quickly.  “Just keep cooling him down and try to get some of Maria’s tea into him.  I need to check on the others.”

Leaving Johnny, Sam walked across the hall into Scott’s room.  Teresa looked up as he entered.  “He still hasn’t woken up, and his fever is getting higher.”

Sam brushed Scott’s blonde hair away from his forehead and sighed.  “Keep doing what you’re doing.  At least his temperature isn’t too high yet.”

“Have you checked on…?”

Sam raised a hand.  “I’ve seen Johnny.  I’m going to Murdoch now.”

He opened Murdoch’s door, stepped inside, and paused.  “Maria?”

“The fever is not good.  I have cool water, but still…”

“I know.  Let me check his wound.”

After changing Murdoch’s bandages, Sam went back to Scott.  He knew there was no point in delaying; he had no choice but to insert a feeding tube.

For the rest of the day, Sam divided his time among the three men.  Now, he felt himself nearing a breaking point.  It seemed every ounce of energy had been drained from him.  He slumped at the now clean kitchen table, the weight of the last 30 hours pressing down on his shoulders.

His hands were tightly wrapped around a cup of coffee that had long lost its warmth, the lukewarm liquid offering little comfort.  The rich aroma, once inviting, now mixed with the smells of Maria’s cooking and the still lingering odor of ether he’d used during the surgeries.

His heavy, sunken eyes stared blankly into the depths of the mug, as if searching for a spark of energy within the murky brew.  He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his hands, longing for a moment of peace.

“Sam.”

Startled, Sam’s head shot up.  Blinking, he looked around and took a moment to realize where he was.  “What… what?” His eyes finally focused enough to see Teresa standing beside him.

“You should go back to bed.”

He laughed, “I’ve tried that already.”

Teresa smiled.  “Try again.”

Glancing at Teresa, he sighed.  “Any change?”

“I think Johnny’s fever has gone down.”

“That’s good.  I think I’ll go upstairs and get some sleep.  Wake me if you need me.”

“I will.  Now go on.”

Sam pushed his chair back and stood up.  Grasping the edge of the table for support, he took a breath and felt himself sway.  A moment of dizziness swept over him.

Teresa was by his side, a hand on his arm.  “Sam?”

“I’m alright.  Just guide me to the closest bed.”

“Maybe you should…”

“No.  Sleep.  Please.”

Sam looked at the bed and considered taking off his clothes, but he dismissed the idea.  Instead, he slipped out of his shoes and collapsed onto the mattress, falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

---

Standing under the front portico, Johnny watched the men gather near the corral for morning orders. 

He looked up, as if trying to see through to the second floor where his father and brother lay.  Closing his eyes, he attempted to recall everything that had happened since the ambush ten days ago.  Those ten days had been filled with pain and suffering, and, more importantly, prayer.  

He couldn’t remember praying as much as he had in the past week.  As Johnny Madrid, there was no point in sending up prayers he knew would go unanswered.  Now, as Johnny Lancer, … well, maybe God would overlook his past and look kindly on Murdoch and Scott’s deeds. 

Johnny remembered little of the first three days.  When he was lucid, Cipriano told him everything that had happened since they were found bleeding on the road.

The sound of Cipriano’s voice pulled him out of his musings and into the present.  Leaning against one of the columns, he took a deep breath and pushed down the pain.  His side and shoulder still burned, but not as much as the fire inside him to find the men who’d done this to his family. 

His mind was made up, and when he heard his uncle start giving the morning orders, Johnny straightened up and took off the sling from his left arm.  To ease the pressure on his shoulder, he hooked his left thumb on his belt.  

Taking a deep breath, he started walking.  He knew this would be hard, but it had to be done.  He was almost to the corral when the first of the men noticed him. 

Cipriano stopped talking and turned to watch as he approached.    “Juanito?” Cipriano’s concern showed in his voice. 

“Tio,” Johnny replied in a soft voice.

“Johnny,” Tate said, “should you be out here?”

Johnny gave his new brother-in-law a faint smile.  “Probably not, but I need to talk to everyone.  I figured this was as good a time as any.”

Looking at the men who worked for Lancer, Johnny could see and feel their overwhelming concern for him.  

Licking his lips, Johnny took a breath before starting, “I know things have been rough around here lately, what with everything that’s happened.  I appreciate everything you’re all doing to keep the ranch going, and I know Murdoch does, too.”

He hesitated.  “Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush.  I’m going after Melson, Hoyt, and the Davis brothers.”

Murmurs ran through the gathered men.

“Johnny, you aren’t well enough—” Tate started.

“Well enough, and nothing’s gonna stop me.”

Tate started to raise a hand in protest, but Johnny stopped him. 

“No one’s gonna put a bullet in me or do what they did to this family and get away with it.  My father’s lying up there with a bullet hole in his chest.  My brother…” he swallowed hard, fighting back his emotions, “Scott may never walk again.  I swear they’re gonna pay.”

Addressing the men, he said, “Now, until Murdoch’s able, you’ll take your orders from Cipriano.  If he’s not around, then Tate’s in charge.”

Then, looking at Larry, he said, “Tate, you’ve only been working the ranch for a few months.  I expect you to listen to Cipriano, but …well, Cip knows how things run.”

“I know Johnny.  I don’t expect to be in charge.  I’ll let Cip take the lead.”

“Sobrino, I know there is nothing we can say that will stop you.  You do what you have to do.  Señor Tate and I will take care of the ranch and the family.”

Johnny smiled.  “Gracias, Tio.”  

“When you plan on leaving, Johnny?” Walt asked. 

“As soon as I can get some things together.”

Tate placed a hand on Johnny’s shoulder.  “Are you gonna tell Val?”

“I’ll go through Green River on the way south.”  Turning to address the men again, “Well, that’s all I’ve got to say.  Tio, when you finish here, I’d like you and Tate to come in.”

“Bueno.  You go now, Señor Tate, and I will be there momento.”

Turning, Johnny slowly walked back to the house.  Opening the door, he stepped inside and closed it behind him.  Taking a few more steps, he slumped against the cool adobe wall as pain shot through his body.  Determined to leave as soon as possible, he pushed through the pain and went upstairs.

---

Larry Tate pushed Johnny’s door open and found his friend lying on the bed with his good arm over his eyes.  Leaning against the doorframe, he crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.  “Are you sure you can get on a horse and stay there?”

Johnny raised his arm enough to peek out at Tate.  “I’ve got to.”

“No.” Tate straightened.  “No, you don’t.  Johnny, you could wait until you’re stronger.  Don’t you think Murdoch and Scott need you here with them instead of going off looking for men who could be anywhere by now?”

Johnny sat up.  “There’s no place they can hide from me.”

“I know they can’t hide from Madrid, but you’re Lancer now.”

“I can be Madrid, just as easy.”

“You think so?”

“Yes.”  Johnny pushed himself upright.  “Why?  You think I can’t?”

“I don’t know.  I guess I’ve learned to tell the difference between Madrid and Lancer over the last year.  It may be harder to go back than you think.”

Given the man’s current condition, Johnny was on his feet and across the room faster than Tate thought possible.  His blue eyes blazed before turning dark.

Out of instinct, Tate stepped back, and his hand moved to his right hip, where his gun should have been. 

“See, not that hard.  Even you can go back if you need to.”  Johnny gave him a faint smile, and his eyes dropped to Tate’s right hand.  “All I have to remember is how Murdoch and Scott looked lying on that road.  All I have to do is remember the blood pooling under my father’s body.  Damn it, Tate, they picked the wrong family— the wrong man.”

Johnny kept staring until Tate’s breath caught, and he looked away.  It had been a long time since he’d seen Madrid rise to the surface.  “No.  I guess it won’t be that hard after all.”

Johnny laughed and slapped his friend’s stomach with the back of his hand.  “Never underestimate me, Tate.”

“Johnny, I’d never underestimate you, but becoming Madrid is more than staring a man down or drawing your gun.”  Tate tapped Johnny’s chest with a finger.  “It’s what’s inside you.   You’re not the man I heard about when I was starting in the game.  You’ve let these people…this place get under your skin.  Can you be that man I read about in those dime novels again?”

“Hell, Tate, I was never the man in those damn books.  I was never the cold-blooded killer they made me out to be, or the legend either.  I have always just been me.  

“You’re right, though, everything here has gotten to me, and leaving it behind is going to be hard.  What would have been even harder would have been burying Murdoch and Scott.  No, if I had to do that, then you wouldn’t have liked the person I would have become.”

“Alright, so you go back to just being Johnny Madrid.  Can you come back—I mean, do you really think you can come back here and settle down as Johnny Lancer again?”

“I’ve done it before.”

Tate nodded.  “Yes, you did, but it wasn’t easy, and you had a hell of a lot of help.  I know you were Madrid longer than you’ve been Lancer, but…”

“You’re right.  I’ve been Johnny Madrid since I was twelve years old.  Madrid is always going to be a part of me…a big part, but I can still be Johnny Lancer…at least I can try.”

“Johnny…”

Johnny let out a sigh.  “Look—”

“At least let me go with you.”

“No.  You’re needed here.  Besides, you’re a married man now.  You’ve got Teresa to think about, and I need you to take care of the family and the ranch.”

“Damn it, your family needs you, not me.”

“I’m the only one who can take care of Melson.”

Sighing, Tate shook his head.  “There isn’t any talking you out of this, is there?”

“No!”

“Then wait until tomorrow or the next day.  Get some of your strength back before going after him.”

“He’s getting further away.  I ….”

“What’s all the yelling about?” Teresa entered the room, pushed past her husband, and stood in front of Johnny.  When neither Johnny nor Tate responded, she shot daggered looks at both of them.  “Well?”

Tate had never kept anything from Teresa and didn’t plan to start now.  “Johnny’s going after Melson.” 

Teresa slowly nodded.  “I expected he would.”  Turning to Johnny, she said, “When do you plan to leave?”

“Today.”

She straightened her shoulders.  “Alright, but you do know you’re not ready?”

“I think I am.”

“Teresa, you expected this?” Tate placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder and gently turned her to face him.

“Yes, I have,” she nodded.  “I know Johnny.  I’m surprised he’s waited this long.”  She turned back to look at the man she considered a brother.  “I’ll get your supplies ready.”

Johnny looked at Teresa and smiled.  “You’re taking this a lot calmer than I thought you would.”

“Why wouldn’t I?  I mean, you’re going after the men who did this to our family.  I wish you’d wait until Murdoch and Scott were…” She stopped herself.   “Murdoch was back on his feet.”

“Tate and Cipriano can handle the ranch.”

“And Maria and I can take care of Murdoch and Scott.  Is that what you’re saying?”

“Querida, I’m sorry, but this is something I have to do.”

Teresa stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Johnny’s waist, and rested her head on his chest.  “Johnny, I’m going to say this once and only once.  I know you won’t listen, but please consider waiting.”

“I can’t.”

“At least until Scott comes to.  If something should happen to you and he didn’t get to see you again… to say goodbye.”  She stepped back with tears in her eyes.  Seeing that her words had no impact, she threw up her hands.  “Alright, go, but you’d better come back.  Do you understand?  I can’t stand the thought of losing you, too.”

Johnny smiled.  “You aren’t going to lose me, sweetheart.  I’ll be back.”

Teresa turned and left the room without another word.

Johnny turned to look at Tate.

“Don’t worry, Johnny.  You can count on me.  I’ll take care of her and Lancer.”

Johnny held out his hand.  “Thanks.  Will you have someone saddle Barranca for me?”

Tate shook the offered hand.  “He’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready.  I’d better go see how Teresa’s doing.”

After Tate left, Johnny stared at the empty doorway for a moment before heading to his dresser.  In the bottom drawer, he found two sets of saddlebags.  He took both out and placed them on the bed.  One set of bags was old and worn from travel, something he had picked up on his way out of Mexico after escaping the firing squad.

Johnny ran his fingers over the tooled leather on the second set of bags.  They had been a gift from Murdoch for his first Christmas after coming home.

He decided against taking the new bags.  Instead, he opened the older saddlebags and began putting his clothes inside.  He wasn’t taking much—two shirts, a pair of pants, and two pairs of socks.  Packing light was something he’d done for years. 

Folding and shoving the second shirt into the bags, Johnny nodded in satisfaction.  He’d put in everything he planned to.  When he finished, he laid the bags on the bed along with his rifle.  He had two stops to make before leaving.

---

Opening Scott’s door, Johnny stepped into the room.  It broke his heart to see his brother still lying unconscious after so many days.

As Johnny approached the bed, he paused briefly, watching Scott’s chest rise and fall.  His splinted left leg was elevated on pillows, and his head was wrapped in bandages.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently lifted Scott’s right hand.  Holding it, Johnny took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“Scott, I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me.  Please forgive me for not being here when you wake up, but I have to find the men who did this to you and Murdoch.  I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

He laid Scott’s hand down and straightened the covers over his chest.  Standing, he looked down.  Leaving his brother was hard, but he knew he was doing the right thing.    “I’ll be seeing you, Boston.”

Walking out of the room, he eased the door shut.  He had one last stop, and then he would be on his way.

Standing in the hall, he saw Maria coming out of Murdoch’s room.  She paused and looked at him.  “Juanito, you will come home soon?  Your Papa and hermano need you.”

“Si, Tia, I’ll be back as soon as I can.  While I’m gone, you’ll take care of them for me?”

“Si.  They are in good hands.” She looked back at the door.  “You go say goodbye to your Papa now.”

Johnny hugged and kissed her before she went down the back stairs to the kitchen.

Entering Murdoch’s room, Johnny walked over to the bed and did as he had with Scott.  First, he watched his father’s chest rise and fall, thanking God for each breath the man took.

Sitting in a chair beside the bed, he leaned forward and took Murdoch’s right hand.  He stared at it, amazed at how much larger it was than his own.  Running a finger over the rough palm, Johnny took a deep breath.  He wished more than anything he could remember being held by this man, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall anything about the first two years of his life.

He gave Murdoch’s hand a final squeeze and gently laid it down.  He stood and started toward the door.  Just as he was about to step outside, a soft voice broke the silence of the room. 

“John?”

Turning to look at the bed, he saw Murdoch’s light blue eyes focused on him.  

Johnny was across the room and sitting on the side of the bed before he realized he’d moved.  “Murdoch.”   He couldn’t help but smile.  “Hey.  You’re awake.”  

“Have I been asleep a long time?”

“Yes, off and on.  We’ve been worried about you.”

Murdoch turned his head, looking around the room.   “Is there water?”

Johnny poured water into a glass and lifted Murdoch’s head.  He pressed the glass to his father’s lips.

“Not so fast.  You’ll make yourself sick.”  Johnny lowered the glass and waited.  “More?”

Murdoch shook his head and lay back down.  “Are you alright?  I heard the shot… Saw you go down.”

“Sssh, take it easy.  I’m alright.”

“I saw you—”

Johnny’s hand settled on the wound on his right side, and then he lied, “Yeah, but it wasn’t nothing more than a nick.”

Murdoch smiled and closed his eyes.  Only a moment later, his eyes flew open.  “Scott…. what about Scott?  I heard him scream.”

“He’s in his room…sleeping.”

“He’s alright?”

“Murdoch….” Johnny thought hard about what he should say.  He was still too weak to handle the truth.  How could he tell this man his oldest son had a concussion, a broken leg, and damage to his spine?  How could he tell him that Scott may never walk again?  No, it would be better if Murdoch were stronger before hearing all the truth.  “He’s alright.  He’s got a broken leg, but Sam says he’ll be back on his feet in no time.”

“That’s good.”  Smiling, Murdoch patted Johnny’s left arm, not noticing him flinch at the touch.  “Do you know who did this?”

Johnny nodded.  “It was the hands who left us in Stockton– Melson, Hoyt, and the Davis brothers.  They were after the cattle money.”

Murdoch looked confused.  “But I had most of the money wired to the bank in Green River.  I was only carrying $500.  They…they did this to us for the money?”

Johnny saw the anguish in his father’s face and heard it in his voice.

“I’ve known men who’ve done more for a hell of a lot less.  They didn’t care if they’d killed us as long as they got the money.  I’m sure they thought you were carrying more.  It was a good idea to wire the rest of it to the bank.”

Murdoch shifted nervously, trying to lift himself up.

“No, stay down.” Johnny placed a hand on Murdoch’s shoulder.  “You need to rest, and I’ve got some things to take care of.”

Johnny quickly stood.

“Johnny…” Murdoch started, then stopped.  “Alright, son, go do what you need to do, but promise you’ll come back soon.”

Johnny realized Murdoch knew what he had planned.  The old man was giving his permission.  “I promise.”  

Turning, he headed for the door.  His hand was on the doorknob when Murdoch’s voice stopped him.  “John.”

“I don’t want you setting foot out that door without knowing how much I love you.”

Johnny smiled but didn’t look back.  “Well, I love you too, old man.”

Johnny opened the door, stepped outside, and shut it behind him.  Going back to his room, he strapped on his working gun and picked up his saddlebags and rifle.  As he turned to leave, he found Maria blocking his way.

“Before you go, I will change your bandages.”  She moved across the room, took the things out of Johnny’s hands, and set them on the bed.  “Sit and take off your shirt.”

Johnny did as Maria instructed and sat quietly while she worked.

“You are not well enough to go after those men.” When he didn’t respond, Maria shook her head.  “Nino, you know you will break your Papa’s heart when he finds out you are gone.  Your hermano needs you here.”

“Murdoch’s awake.  He knows.”

Maria stopped what she was doing.  “He knows and he agrees?”

When Johnny didn’t answer, she placed her hand under his chin, lifted it, and looked into his eyes.  “You will take care of yourself, nino?”

Johnny smiled.  “Si, Mamacita, I’ll take care of myself.  You take care of everyone here for me?  Si?”

“Si.  Now, let me finish.”

---

Johnny stepped out of the hacienda and crossed the yard to the corral.  Cipriano had Barranca saddled and ready for him.  

He carefully eased himself into the saddle, catching his breath before straightening up.  He looked down to see Cipriano watching him.  The two men didn’t speak; they didn’t need to.  Both understood what the other was thinking.

Under the watchful eyes of the ranch hands and vaqueros of Lancer, Johnny walked Barranca toward the arch.  

It wasn’t until he reached the hill overlooking the ranch that he stopped and reined Barranca around.  The view in front of him took his breath away.  Off in the distance, a herd of wild horses thundered across the valley floor, cattle grazed in tall green grass, and the sun sparkled off the blue lake water.

He often wondered how he had gotten so lucky, how fate had brought him here and kept bringing him back.  The thought of never seeing it again tugged at his heart.  It still amazed him that in the two years he’d called Lancer home, he’d become so attached.

No matter what he had said to Teresa and Maria, he couldn’t guarantee he’d ever see Lancer again.  Shaking himself, he turned Barranca around and rode away, knowing he was making the right choice.

---

An hour after leaving Lancer, Johnny rode into Green River and stopped in front of the sheriff’s office.

Slowly dismounting, Johnny grasped his saddle horn until a wave of dizziness passed.  In hindsight, he thought maybe he should have listened to Teresa about waiting until he was stronger.  He’d debated with himself the entire time he was riding into town, but letting Melson get away wasn’t an option.

Taking a deep breath, Johnny hesitantly stepped toward Val’s office door.  Satisfied he was alright, he stepped onto the boardwalk and opened the door.

Johnny was still standing in the doorway when he heard Val’s voice booming at him, “What in tarnation are you doing here?”

Johnny grinned.  “It’s good to see you, too.”

“You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Been told that a few times today.  Hell, Val, I’ve had enough of bed.  I’m going after them.”

Val slumped into his chair and stared at Johnny.   “I figured as much, but also figured you’d have enough sense to wait until you were well enough to ride.  Does anyone at Lancer know you’re going, or did you just ride out?”

“They know.”

Val raised an eyebrow.  “Murdoch knows?”

Johnny sighed, “I think he does.  I didn’t come right out and tell him.  I also didn’t tell him about Scott.  He’s not strong enough to handle the truth right now.”

“Is Scott awake yet?”

Johnny dropped his head.  “No.”

“Don’t you think you should wait until he does?”

Johnny didn’t respond.

“You can’t stand to see him like that, can you?”

“No.”  Johnny squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.  “I can’t.”  He looked up.  “I can’t do anything for him either.  All I can do is get the men who hurt him… hurt them.”

“About that.” Val shifted some papers on his desk.  “I got some information about Melson.  I was going to ride out and tell you, but well, you’re here now.”

Finally finding what he was searching for, Val pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Johnny.

“What’s this?”

“A wanted poster on Melson, but his real name isn’t Melson.  Ever hear of someone named Farley Campbell?

“No,” Johnny started to shake his head and then paused.  “Wait a minute…Campbell.  Where do I know the name from?”

“Think back to the day Teresa and Tate got married.”

Recognition registered in Johnny’s eyes.  “He any kin to Ray Campbell?”

“His older brother.”

“Thinking on it, he does look like Ray.  If he’d used his real name, I would have—”

“You would have known right away who he was.  Looks like Farley wasn’t too happy when Ray got sent to prison for trying to murder you.”

Johnny eased into a chair and stared at the poster.  “Was putting his brother in prison the reason he tried to kill us?”

“I don’t know.  Farley Campbell is wanted in Texas for bank robbery and murder.  He held up a stage in Arizona and killed the driver and the shotgun guard.   He might have wanted to get even for his brother, but my guess is he was more interested in the money.  Too bad he didn’t know that Scott talked Murdoch into depositing it in the bank in Stockton.”

“So, he works mostly in Texas and Arizona?”

Val nodded.

“Any idea where he is now?”

“No.  I’ve sent telegrams to every lawman from here to the Mexican border.  No one’s seen him.”

Johnny sat thinking.  

“So, where do you plan to start looking for him?”

Johnny laughed.  “I’m not sure.  Maybe head south and see if I can pick up his trail.  If he spends his time in Arizona, I might head there.”

“So, you’re just going to roam all over hell’s half-acre looking for them?”

Johnny gave his friend a stern look.  “Melson…I mean, Campbell has to surface somewhere.  If he doesn’t, then Emmett and Billy will.”

“What do you say to me going with you?”

Johnny shook his head.   “No, I need you here.  Someone needs to watch out for Murdoch and Scott.”

“Hell, boy, there’s a whole ranch full of people taking care of your pa and brother.  They don’t need me.  You do.”

Johnny smiled.  “I’d like you to come with me, but not this time.  I’ll stay in touch.  If I need you, I’ll let you know.”

“No, you won’t,” Val said with a frown.  “You’ll ride out of here and get into trouble, and I won’t find out until…” Val paused, “Hijo—”

“Papi, I promise I’ll keep my head down, watch my back, and let you know where I’m at.  It’s not like I haven’t done this before.   Now, I’d better start riding.”

“What if they’ve headed into Mexico?”

“Don’t worry.  I’m not crossing the border.”

Val exhaled a breath he’d been holding.  “How long you gonna be gone?”

Johnny sighed.  “However long it takes.”

“And what if you never find them?”

“Then I’ll come back, but that’s not gonna happen.  I’ll find them.”

“And then what are you gonna do with them?”

Johnny knew what Val meant.  “I’m going to turn them over to the law.”

Val snorted.  “Sure, you are.”

“Val, I want to see them hang for what they did.”  

Val knew it wasn’t the truth.  No matter what Johnny said about bringing Campbell, Hoyt, or the Davis brothers back, it was never going to happen.  The boy wanted the pleasure of putting a bullet in them and watching their blood soak into the ground just like he’d watched Murdoch’s back on the road.

As Johnny headed for the door, Val asked, “You got enough money on you?”

Johnny nodded.  “Yeah, I have enough.  If I need more, I’ll wire the bank here to send it.”

Val stood and followed him.  “There’s gonna be a telegram waiting for you in every town between here and Visalia.  I’ll let you know what’s going on here, and I expect you to send an answer.  You miss one town, and I’m coming after you.”

“Val…”

“You pack enough ammunition?” Val cut him off.

Johnny laughed.  “Like I said…”

“I know.”  He threw up his hands.  “You’ve done this before.”

“Stop worrying.”

“I’ll be worrying until you’re home again.”  Val reached out and put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder.  “Hijo, don’t stay away too long.  If I have to come after you, I might not be alone.”

Johnny put his hand over Val’s.  “Just take care of everyone here.”

“Count on it.”

---

Faint whispers broke through a shroud of darkness.  It wasn’t the first time he had heard them.  They’d come and go, then come again.  Unable to understand what they were saying, he stopped trying a long time ago.

The whispers turned into soft voices piercing through the dull throb in his brain.  Slowly, he understood more and more of the words as well as the voices.   Murdoch, Sam, Teresa, Maria, and even Val spoke to him off and on.  The only voice missing was Johnny’s.  The more he thought about it, the more he worried.  Where was Johnny?  Why wasn’t he here with him?

Scott lay quietly for a long time, trying to remember what had happened.  At first, the memories refused to come.  Then, like photographic images in one of his grandfather’s albums, they came one at a time.

Johnny was riding on one side of him, and Murdoch was on the other.  They were laughing at something Johnny had said.  Suddenly, the laughter stopped, and Scott remembered Murdoch’s frozen and bewildered expression as he clutched his chest before falling from his horse.  The sight of his father hitting the ground, surrounded by rising dust, became an unforgettable image etched in Scott’s mind.

Once the images started, he couldn’t stop them, no matter how hard he fought against them.  Like dominoes falling, they kept coming—their relentless flow.  It all flooded back—everything that happened right up until his world went dark.

“I think he is waking.” Maria’s voice pierced through the darkness, and her hand touched his face. “Nino, por favor, come back to us. We have waited too long.”

Scott wanted to smile.  It was something she would say to Johnny.  Johnny was Maria’s nino.  She’d never called him that before.

He opened his eyes and closed them just as fast as the light in the room overpowered him.

“Open your eyes,” Maria pleaded.  “Por favor, open your eyes.”  

As he blinked, Maria’s tear-streaked face slowly came into focus.

“There you are.  Gracias a Dios.”  Maria placed a hand on the side of Scott’s face.   “Do not go to sleep.  I will get your Papa.  He will be so happy.  So happy.”

Scott could hear Maria’s feet echoing down the hall and her calling to Murdoch.  “Patron, ven.  Ven rapido.”  (Patron, come.  Come quickly)

It wasn’t long before the room began filling up. 

Murdoch, dressed only in a nightshirt, robe, and slippers, sat on the side of the bed and took his hand.  Teresa and Tate entered together, followed by Val and Cipriano.  

“Patron, I have sent for el medico,” Maria announced upon reentering the room.

Everyone’s eyes were on him.   “Water,” he croaked out in barely a whisper.

Teresa reached for a glass, filled it, and then handed it to Murdoch. 

“Here, Son.” Murdoch lifted Scott’s head and helped him take a sip. 

Swallowing, Scott felt something hard in his throat.  His hand went up to find a tube coming out of his nose.

“Leave it, son.” Murdoch pushed his hand away.  “Sam will take it out once he knows you can eat and drink on your own.”

When everyone laughed at Scott’s frown, Murdoch explained, “I know, but you’ve been asleep a very long time.  We had to find a way to get liquids and medicine into you.”

Scott searched the faces in the room.  When he didn’t see the one face he expected, his next question wasn’t unexpected.  “Johnny?” he whispered.

Murdoch sighed.  “He’s not here.”

Scott began to breathe heavily.  Images of his brother covered in blood flashed through his mind.  “Dead…” Scott choked and struggled to lift his shoulders. 

Murdoch pushed Scott’s shoulders down.  “Lay still.”

“He’s —”

Murdoch shook his head.  “No, Son.   No.  He’s not dead.  He… he was hurt.  We were all hurt, but Johnny’s alright.”

“But…where …is…?” Scott coughed.

“I’ll explain when you’re stronger.  Right now, you need to rest.”

“You’re… sure he’s alright?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Murdoch said, but Scott noticed his father hadn’t looked at him. 

Scott, too weak to do anything else, gave in and settled into his pillow.  Closing his eyes, he faintly heard Murdoch guiding the others out of the room.  His mind was filled with questions, but a feeling of unease warned him he might not be ready for the answers.

---

Scott wasn’t sure how many days had passed since he first woke up.  For a long time, all he felt was a dull throbbing in his head and nothing else. 

No matter how many times he asked about his brother, his questions went unanswered.  It was only after he became upset that Murdoch gave him something for the pain and then explained what had happened.

“So, he’s going after the men who did this to us?

Murdoch nodded.  “Yes.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“A week.”

“A week…?  But, how long…?”

“We left Stockton a little over three weeks ago.” Murdoch took a breath, and his right hand instinctively covered the aching wound in his chest. 

Scott’s eyes followed his father’s hand.  “I remember you… God, Murdoch, I thought it was just a nightmare.  I remember you getting shot and then Johnny…and my horse…”

Seeing his son’s panic rising, Murdoch placed a hand on Scott’s chest to try to soothe him.  “It’s alright.  The shots spooked your horse.  He rolled onto you.”

“How bad?”

When there was no answer, Scott closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  At that moment, he realized that the feeling of being held down was just an illusion, not a physical reality.  His memories flashed back to when his mind had finally cleared enough to notice the lack of feeling in his legs.  With a tremor of disbelief, his hand moved to his lower limbs.  His legs lay beneath him, lifeless as a fallen tree—cold and unyielding.

Murdoch watched as Scott’s eyes widened in disbelief, the surprise clear on his face.  His brow furrowed slightly, and his mouth opened as if he were struggling to understand.

“Scott, try to relax.”

“Relax!  I can’t feel my legs, and you want me to relax.  What does Sam say?  Will I be like this for the rest of my life?”

“I’ll send for Sam.  You need to hear what he has to say for yourself.”

Scott nodded.  “Alright, but I want the truth.”

“He won’t keep anything from you.  I promise.”   

“Murdoch.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to reach Johnny?”

“Val’s been keeping track of him.”

“Would you see if he can get Johnny to come back?  If he hasn’t found the men by now…well, it can wait.  I want him here with us…with me.”

Murdoch smiled.  “I want him home, too.  We need to be together right now.”

There was a look on Scott’s face that Murdoch couldn’t decipher.  “What’s wrong?”

“You think he will come back, don’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Murdoch, you saw how difficult it was for him to switch back from being Madrid to Lancer last year, and we were with him the whole time.  Now, he’s out there alone.  He might decide that being Johnny Madrid is better than being Johnny Lancer.”

“He wouldn’t do that.  No matter what he calls himself, deep down, John will always be Lancer.  He might think he can’t be both, but I know better.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’d bet my life on it, and to make sure he knows we want him home, I’ll keep reminding him.”

“How?”

“Val is sending telegrams to the towns he thinks Johnny will pass through.  There’s no way I’m going to let that boy forget we want him here… with us. 

“Lancer is his home.  He knows it, but I think he needs to be reminded that he’s not alone anymore.   We have more to offer him here than the life he led as Johnny Madrid.”   

Scott was sure that one way or another, Johnny would come home.  Murdoch was stubborn when he made up his mind.  He’d gone after Johnny, after both of them, once before.  Scott had no doubts that he’d go again if necessary.

As Murdoch left the room, Scott’s focus went to his legs.  If there was one thing he knew, it was that if he could move them…if he could walk again…he would ride.  If he could ride, he’d go after his brother and drag him home. 

---

True to his word, Val made sure a telegram was waiting for Johnny in every town he rode into on the trip south.

Madera, Clovis, Fresno; he skipped Reedley and followed his gut, detouring to Selma.  He knew Val would give him hell for missing Reedley, but he also knew it was something he had to do.  After finding no leads in Selma, Johnny headed toward Visalia.

The sun cast long shadows along the dusty street as Johnny rode into Visalia.  Among the townsfolk bustling along the boardwalks, he spotted a man watching him.  His senses immediately heightened until he saw a silver star gleaming on the faded fabric of the man’s green shirt. 

Pulling up in front of the hotel, he dismounted and looped Barranca’s reins over the hitching rail.  By the time he untied his saddlebags and pulled his rifle from its sheath, the lawman had already crossed the street. 

Johnny turned to face the tall, middle-aged man.  “Can I help you…” Johnny glanced at the badge.  “Marshal?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye out for a man by the name of Lancer, Johnny Lancer.  Fits your description.  You him?”

Johnny nodded.  “I’m him.”

“I’m Frank Lindt, Marshal Frank Lindt.”

“Nice to meet you, Marshal.  You said you’ve been watching for me?”

“That’s right.  I got a telegram a few days ago from the sheriff up in Green River.  Crawford said you’d be coming this way.  You know him?”

“Yeah, I know him.” Johnny smiled.  “He mad?”

“Don’t know about being mad, but he said if you didn’t telegraph him the minute you hit town, I was to throw you in jail and hold you until he got here.”

Johnny started to laugh, then saw the look on the Marshal’s face.  “He really said that?”

“He did.  You also have two telegrams waiting for you.”  Lindt said, handing over two envelopes. 

“Thanks.  I’ll go over to the telegraph office after I get settled at the hotel.”

“Nope.” Lindt shook his head.  “You’ll go now, and I’m coming with you.  I know Crawford.  He’ll do what he says, and I’ll have to lock you up until he gets here.  He also said I was to have the doctor take a look at you.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Damn right,” Lindt smiled.  “So, let’s go.” 

As they walked down the boardwalk toward the telegraph office, Johnny opened one of the sealed envelopes the Marshal had handed him.  It was dated four days ago.

.

John Lancer
c/o Marshal Lindt
Visalia, California

Murdoch doing well.  STOP.  No change in Scott’s condition.  STOP.

Crawford

.

“Bad news?” Lindt said as they walked.

“Some good, some bad.”

“I heard about what happened to you and your family.  Crawford spread the word about Farley Campbell.”

“I appreciate it, and so does my family.”

“That’s why you’re down this way instead of back there with them?”

“That’s right.  I’m going to make sure Campbell’s caught.”

“How long have you been on the trail?”

“A little over a week.”

“You didn’t give yourself much time to heal up before lighting out.”

“I didn’t want Campbell and the others to get too far ahead.”

“No wonder Crawford wants you to see a doctor.”  Lindt took a few more steps and stopped.  Turning, he met Johnny’s eyes.  “Look, Lancer, I know who you are.  I gotta ask, are you going after Campbell to bring him to justice or—”

“Or am I going to deal out my own justice?   Well, that depends on Campbell.  Doesn’t it?” 

“So, if you get the chance, you’ll bring him back to Green River to stand trial.”

Johnny stopped and turned to face Lindt.   “If I get the chance, yeah.  I want to see all of them hang for what they did,” he responded in a slow drawl.  “But you have to understand something.  Those men left us for dead.  From this telegram,” Johnny held up the opened envelope in his hand, “my brother still hasn’t come to.  When and if he does wake up, he may never walk again.”

“I know how you feel, but—”

“You have no idea how I feel.  It wasn’t your family that they did it to.”

Lindt threw up his hands.  “Alright, so I don’t know how you feel, but I can imagine.  It doesn’t change the fact that the law…”

“Doing it legal doesn’t always get it done, Marshal, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure they get exactly what they deserve.” 

Lindt didn’t say anything as they continued walking.

Johnny opened the next envelope, dated yesterday.

Johnny Lancer
c/o Marshal Lindt
Visalia, California

Scott awake.  STOP.  Demands you come home.  STOP.

Teresa

Johnny stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.  When he looked up, a smile spread across his face.

“I take it that one has better news?”

“It does.” Johnny clutched the paper as if it might vanish and the words with it.  “My brother’s awake.  He wants me to come home.”

“You going?”

Johnny shook his head.  “Not until I find those men.”  

They stopped in front of the telegraph office.  Lindt pushed open the door and waved Johnny inside.  The telegraph operator, a young pock-faced man in his late twenties, looked up from his desk.

“Marshal Lindt, what can I do for you?”

“Henry, this is Johnny Lancer.  He needs to send a telegram to Green River.”

“Lancer?  Wait a minute.  I have a telegram that just came in for you.  There’s one for you, too, Marshal.”

Henry handed each of them an envelope.

Johnny read his telegram while Marshal Lindt read the one addressed to him.

John Lancer
c/o Marshal Landt
Visalia, California

Confirmed sighting of Farley Campbell, San Diego, one week ago.  STOP.  Respond upon receipt of this message.  STOP. 

Crawford

Johnny looked at Lindt.  From the Marshal’s expression, he could tell his telegram read the same as the one he held.

“San Diego,” Johnny said.

“A week ago.”

“Mr. Lancer, you said you wanted to send a telegram to Green River?” the telegraph operator asked.

“Yes, he does,” Lindt replied before Johnny could answer. 

Johnny laughed.   “I guess I’d better send a couple.”

He wrote out two quick messages, one to Val and the other to Teresa.  He told Teresa that he was alright, and he’d come home when he found Campbell.   The one to Val said the same thing, only he’d added that he was going to San Diego.  He paid the telegraph operator and stepped outside, where the Marshal was waiting for him.

“You heading for San Diego in the morning?” Lindt said.

“Yeah.”

“What’d you tell Crawford?”

“I told him I’d let him know when I got to San Diego.”

“You know that’s over 300 miles.  It’s gonna take you a good ten days to get there if you don’t run into any trouble.  You might want to wire him before then.  I mean, just to keep everyone from worrying.”

“I’ll think on it.  Right now, I need a bath, something to eat, and a good night’s sleep.”

“The bathhouse is down the street from the hotel.  The hotel serves a good meal, unless you’re looking for something spicier.  In that case, there’s a cantina…”

“No, I’m staying close to the hotel tonight.  I’ll eat there.”

“I reckon that would be a good idea.  I don’t want any trouble in town.”

“I don’t plan on any trouble, Marshal.”

“Don’t get your hackles up.  It’s just that if you stay close to the hotel.  There’s less of a chance someone will recognize you.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Good.  Now, let’s go over to see the Doc.”

Johnny shook his head.  “Don’t need a doctor.  I’m feeling fine.”

The Sheriff laughed.  “That so?  Why don’t we let the Doc tell me that?  Then you can go get a bath and something to eat, and I’ll wire Crawford and let him know what the Doc said.”

Johnny glared at the man. 

“No need to look at me like that, boy.  It ain’t gonna do any good.  Now, come on.  It won’t take long at the Doc’s, and then you can get some rest.”

They walked along the uneven boardwalk toward a sign hanging in front of a small white building.  It read “Dr. Neill Grayson.”

The doctor’s exam was quick but thorough, confirming only what Johnny already knew—his wounds were healing, and there was no infection.

After leaving the doctor’s office, Sheriff Lindt walked him to the hotel.  “I’ll leave you for now, Mr. Lancer.  I have my own telegram to send.”

“You gonna wire Val?”

Lindt nodded.  “I guess I’d better.  He seems to worry over you some.”

Johnny smiled.  “He can be an old mother hen when he puts his mind to it.”

Lindt walked away, laughing.

An hour later, Johnny had bathed, eaten, and was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. 

---

It was almost midnight when Johnny jolted awake at the sound of someone banging on his door.  He grabbed his gun from under his pillow, jumped out of bed, and moved to stand to one side of the door.

“Lancer, you in there?”

The voice sounded familiar, but to his still sleep-muddled brain, he wasn’t sure.  “Who wants to know?”

“It’s me, Frank Lindt.  Open up.”

Johnny looked down at his cut-off long johns and shook his head.  “Hold on, let me get my pants on.”   

He opened the door with his gun ready.

Frank Lindt stepped into the dark room and stopped when he saw the gun pointed at him.  “You mind if we light a lamp?”

Johnny closed the door and locked it before lighting the lamp on the nightstand.  Turning, he looked at the Marshal.  “What’s wrong?”

“You’ve got trouble.”

“What kind of trouble couldn’t wait until morning?”

“There’s a fellow over at the saloon doing a lot of drinking and talking.  My deputy heard him tell one of the girls his name.  He’s one of the men you’re after.”

Johnny’s expression froze.  “Which one?”

“Brad Hoyt.  He rode into town this afternoon shortly after you did.  I don’t think he saw you, or I doubt he’d still be here.”

Johnny turned his back on the Marshal to get his shirt.

In the flickering lamplight, Lindt could see the boy’s back.  He had heard what happened in Mexico, and at the time, he couldn’t believe that anyone could have survived what they said happened to Madrid.  Now, seeing the scars, he became a believer.

Johnny turned around just in time to see the expression on Lindt’s face, realizing what he had seen.  He quickly slipped into his shirt and buttoned it up.  Then, after strapping on his gun belt, he tightened it before glancing at Lindt again.

Stepping past Lindt, Johnny headed for the door, only to have the older man reach out his hand and stop him.

“Let me take him into custody.”

Johnny looked at the hand holding his arm.  His eyes darkened as they followed the lawman’s arm up until they were eye to eye.  “I’ll tell you what, Marshal.  You can have him after I’m done with him.”

Lindt quickly pulled his hand back and swallowed hard.  “Lancer…”

“Madrid.”

“What?”

“You said you knew who I was.”

“That’s right, but I thought you’d walked away from the life.”

“I had.  Let’s just say I’ve come out of retirement.”

“Look, let me handle this legally.  I can take Hoyt into custody and send him back to Green River to stand trial.” 

“You know Johnny Lancer would let you do just that, Marshal.  Johnny Madrid is going to do what has to be done.  I want to know where the others are.  You lock him up, and he isn’t gonna talk.  He faces me down with this,” Johnny tapped his Colt, “and he’ll talk.

“You don’t want to go there, boy.”

 “Ain’t no boy.  Haven’t been for a long time.”  Johnny gave him a faint smile.   “You coming with me to make sure it’s all legal, or do you want to wait for me here?”

“I do it my way, and he’ll hang in Green River for what he did.  That’s what you said you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Lindt cocked his head.  “You’re going to call him out?”

“No, Marshal.  He’s gonna call me out, and…” Johnny ran his hand over the butt of his gun.  “I’m even gonna let him draw first.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry.  I’ll make sure I don’t break the law.”

Johnny elbowed past the lawman and out the door.  He headed down the hall and then the stairs.  After walking out of the hotel, he took a moment to get his bearings.

Hearing the music from the saloon, Johnny stepped off the boardwalk into the dark street, Marshal Lindt only a few feet behind him.

“Why don’t you let me handle this?  I’ll take him into —”

Johnny stopped mid-step and spun around, his eyes blazing.  “I already told you.  You can have what’s left.” Turning, he started toward the saloon again.  “If there’s anything left worth having.” 

Light spilled from the saloon like a beacon, drawing Johnny down the lonely street.  He stepped onto the boardwalk, took a deep breath, and pushed through the bat-wing doors, glancing into the smoke-filled room.

On the right side of the room, there was a long bar with two men standing beside it.  Johnny didn’t recognize either of them.  Three round tables were arranged in the center of the room, but only one was occupied.  Four men were seated at that table, playing poker.

Johnny studied the men at the table.  The three men whose faces he could see were unfamiliar to him, but the fourth man, with his back to the door, Johnny would have recognized anywhere.  Brad Hoyt still wore the same checkered shirt and worn tan vest that Johnny remembered from Stockton.

“Call.” Hoyt leaned forward and tossed ten more dollars into the pile in the center of the table.  

The other three men showed their cards.  Hoyt chuckled.  “Damn.  Won me another pot.” 

Johnny chose that moment to step into the room.  Everyone, except Hoyt, turned to stare at him.  

Hoyt reached across the table and began pulling the money toward him.  “Guess this is my lucky night.”

“Think again,” Johnny’s soft, low voice sent a chill through the room. 

Hoyt’s hands froze as he glanced at the men sitting around the table.  Noticing their eyes fixed on the door behind him, he lowered his hands, palms down on the surface, and shifted his position to get a better look at the man who had spoken.

The moment he turned around, Hoyt’s eyes widened, his face paled, and his mouth went dry.  The man standing behind him was supposed to be dead.  

Johnny’s eyes narrowed, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.  “Surprised to see me?”

Hoyt started to push up from the table but fell back into the chair, choking out, “Johnny…”

Johnny laughed.  “Hell, Hoyt, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.  Is that what you think I am?”

Johnny heard the faint swish of the bat-wing doors.  He didn’t need to look to know it was Lendt.  

“Johnny, what are you doing here?  I mean…”  Hoyt’s voice trailed off as he searched for the right words.  “When we left you in Stockton, I thought you were headed back to Lancer.”

“About that.”  Johnny sauntered toward the bar, keeping his eyes on Hoyt the entire time.  “You see, we didn’t quite make it home…Well, we did, but not before someone bushwhacked and robbed us.

“Funny thing, the fellows who did it didn’t know that Murdoch didn’t have the cattle money on him.  He wired it to the bank in Green River before we left Stockton.”

“Bushwhacked?  Robbed…?” Hoyt’s voice faltered.

Johnny nodded.  “That’s right.”

“Mr. Lancer?  Scott?”

“Oh, they’re alive.  Hurt bad, but at least they were breathing when I left.”

That’s good,” Hoyt said, relaxing a bit.  “So, what brings you to Visalia?”

“I’m looking for the men who left us for dead.”

“You…,” he swallowed hard.  “You know who did it?”

“That’s right.”  Johnny gave him a faint smile.  “You see, I was conscious long enough to see them…all four of them.”

“Johnny…”

Johnny’s voice changed suddenly.  “Where are the others?”

“The others?”

“You know…the others.  Your partners, Emmett and Billy Davis and Lloyd Melson… or should I say Farley Campbell?”

“Look, Johnny.” Hoyt raised his hands in surrender.  “It wasn’t my idea to rob you.  Melson said Mr. Lancer would have the cattle money on him.  I thought we were just going to stop you on the road and…”  Hoyt’s eyes darted to the other men in the saloon.  “I….”

“You what?”  Johnny’s voice rose.  “You didn’t shoot any of us?  You didn’t leave us lying in the dirt to bleed to death?” 

The other three men at the table moved out of their chairs and eased across the room, out of the line of fire. 

Johnny took a step forward.  “You left me with two bullets in me.”  He took another step.  “You left my old man with a bullet next to his heart.”  He took another step, stopping directly in front of Hoyt.  “You left Scott …” Johnny’s eyes blazed.  “Scott may never walk again.  Did you know that?”  Johnny took a breath and regained his composure. 

“I didn’t … I didn’t know…  I’m sorry, Johnny.”

“Sorry?  Sorry, don’t even begin to cut it.  Now you’re gonna tell me where the others are, and I…” Johnny stroked the butt of his gun.

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?  I mean, I know who you are?”

“You know, do you?”  Johnny smiled.  “That’s good.  That’s real good.  So, you know what I’ll do to you if you don’t talk?”

Hoyt looked frantically around the room.  His eyes fell on Lendt.  “Marshal, you’re not going to let him kill me, are you?”

“I think you’d better answer the man’s questions,” Lendt said.  “Where are your partners?”

Hoyt shook his head.  “Campbell will kill me if I talk.”

“And I’ll kill you if you don’t,” Johnny quickly replied.

“I don’t know.  We split up right after…”

“Alright,” Johnny drawled.  “Give me your best guess on where they are now.” 

“Yuma, then Mexico,” Hoyt quickly blurted out.  “Campbell said he was heading to Mexico.  He said you wouldn’t follow him there ‘cause of what happened in Nogales last year.”

“Where in Mexico?”

“I don’t know,” Hoyt said.  Then, seeing the unconvinced look on Johnny’s face, “I swear, I’m telling you the truth.”

“What about the Davis brothers?”

“I don’t know.  Emmett said something about going home.”

“Wouldn’t happen to know where home is, would you?”

“I think they said Arizona or Texas.  I can’t remember.”

“Why didn’t you go with Campbell?” Lendt asked.

“The man’s crazy.  He told us we were going to rob you.  He didn’t say anything about gunning you down.  We didn’t even know his real name until after…”  Hoyt looked at Johnny.  “It was Campbell who shot you.” 

Johnny snorted, “And who did you shoot, Hoyt?   Murdoch?  Was it your bullet that took my old man down?”

---

Hoyt seemed to realize the corner he’d painted himself into.  “I…”  He looked around desperately, searching for a way out—for help that wasn’t’ there.   When it finally dawned on him that he was on his own, he raised his hands.  “What are you going to do?”

“Hoyt, I’m going to turn you over to Marshal Lindt here, that is, right after I’m done with you.  Now stand up.”

“Done?” The panic was rising in his voice.  “I’ve told you all I know.  I told you where the others went.”

“I said…stand up.”

Hoyt pushed away from the table and stood to face Johnny.

Johnny’s gaze remained intense and unwavering, fixed on Hoyt’s face.

As Johnny’s eyes darkened, Hoyt tried to look away but couldn’t.  Swallowing hard, he began to tremble.

Johnny’s eyes slowly lowered, and a smile spread across his face.

Confused, Hoyt followed Johnny’s gaze.  Looking down, he saw a wet spot slowly grow and spread on the front of his pants.  The unmistakable smell of urine filled the air; he realized he had wet himself.

Someone in the room started laughing, and soon everyone in the saloon joined in.

Seeing Hoyt flush with embarrassment, Johnny laughed and started to turn.  “Now, Marshal, he’s all yours.  Just make sure he gets back to Green River.”

Lindt moved past Johnny to grab Hoyt’s gun. 

Hoyt, knowing what was waiting for him in Green River and still reeling from being made a fool of, was having none of it.   With a quick flick of his left hand, he pushed the Marshal’s hand aside and drew his gun with his right.

“Damn you, Madrid.  I should have made sure you were dead back there on the road.”

Johnny spun left, dropped to one knee, drew his gun, and fired.  The bullet hit Hoyt’s chest, nearly in the same spot where it had struck Murdoch.

Standing, Johnny took slow, deliberate steps across the floor.  Standing over Hoyt, he kicked the gun from the man’s lifeless hand.  “Yeah, you should have.”

Frank Lindt regained his balance and moved next to Johnny.  Shaking his head, he said, “I guess you got what you wanted.”

Johnny heaved a sigh.  “No, Marshal, I didn’t get what I wanted.  I wanted to see him hang for what he did.”  Johnny turned to look at Lindt.  “But…” he shrugged, “we can’t always get what we want.  I’ll just have to settle for this.”

Johnny turned and walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

Johnny answered without stopping, “Back to bed.”

---

Frank Lindt stood outside his office, coffee in hand, stretching and rubbing his whiskered face.  It had been a long night with little sleep.  

After he’d arranged for Hoyt’s body to be taken to the undertaker, it was nearly 3:00 a.m.  He went back to his office and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t.

His mind wouldn’t rest.  He kept reliving the events of the evening over and over.  Just as he was beginning to doze off, it struck him.  He was sure he had things under control with Hoyt right up to the moment the man drew his gun. 

Lindt sat up in bed and snorted.  That was what was bothering him.  Hoyt still had his gun.   Why?  Why hadn’t Madrid…yes, that’s how he saw the Lancer boy now.  Johnny Lancer may have ridden into his town, but it was Johnny Madrid he’d seen in action the night before.    Why hadn’t Madrid taken Hoyt’s gun when he first confronted him?

Despite what Madrid said, he got what he wanted.  He wanted Hoyt to draw on him, and he wanted to kill him.  Well, at least it saved the cost of transporting Hoyt back to Green River and a trial. It wasn’t how Frank Lindt would have handled it, but then again, it wasn’t his family suffering because of Hoyt and his partners.

Lifting the coffee cup to his lips, he looked across the street at the hotel.  Madrid’s palomino was standing outside, saddled and ready.  A few moments later, the man himself came out of the hotel.

Lindt turned and set his coffee cup on the chair in front of his office, then stepped off the boardwalk and walked across the street.

“Leaving already?”

Johnny nodded as he tied his saddlebags down.  “Yep.”

“Headed to San Diego?”

Johnny nodded again.  “That’s where Val said Campbell was spotted last.  Might check out Los Angeles first, though, just in case.  If I don’t find him, I’ll head to Arizona.  One way or another, I’ll find all of them.”

“Don’t you think you should wire your folks and let them know where you’re headed?”

Johnny gave him a slight smile.  “Figure you’d do that for me.”

Lindt chuckled.  “Well, I told Crawford I’d let him know what was happening.  Figure he’ll let your people know.”

Johnny finished tying his saddlebags on, then turned to face the Marshal.  “He’ll do that all right.”

“Where in Arizona?”

“Yuma first.  Campbell might be heading into Mexico…or maybe not.  I believe Hoyt was telling the truth about them not riding together.”

Lindt frowned.  “Why do you think that?”

Johnny shook his head.  “Not sure, but there was something about Billy Davis that didn’t ring true as a back shooter.  I figure Emmett would want to get Billy as far away from Campbell as he could.”

Lindt had to give that some thought.  However, he’d never met any of the men. 

Johnny untied Barranca and swung into the saddle.  “Be seeing you, Marshal.  Thanks for your help last night.”

“I didn’t do anything.  You did it all.”

Johnny smiled down at him.  “I guess I did.”

Lindt watched as Johnny rode south out of town.  With a clear sense of purpose, he headed straight to the telegraph office.

---

Val looked at Frank Lindt’s telegram and shook his head.  Johnny was going to Los Angeles and San Diego before heading into the Arizona territory.  He did some quick thinking and figured that on horseback, it would take him about three weeks to reach Yuma.   He just hoped Johnny wouldn’t be foolish enough to cross the border.

Walking to his office, he stepped inside to see his deputy behind the desk.  “Danny, I’m gonna ride out to Lancer.  You think you can handle things here?”

“Sure, Val.  It’s been quiet.  I know where to find you if I need you.  Are you going to spend the night?”

Val smiled.  It was no secret that he spent more time at Lancer than at his small house in town.  Lancer felt more like home to him than anywhere else he had ever lived, thanks to Murdoch’s understanding and acceptance of his relationship with Johnny.

“Yeah, I think I will.  I need to talk to Murdoch and find out how Scott’s doing.”

Danny nodded.  “See you tomorrow then.”

The journey to Lancer had become second nature to him.  He felt a comfortable rhythm as he leaned back in the saddle, confident that if he let his horse take the lead, it would instinctively head straight to the ranch.

Two hours after leaving Green River, Val rode under the arch.  As he neared the barn, he heard his horse’s soft whinny, eager to settle into its stall.

Dismounting, he was greeted by Miguel, Cipriano’s grandson.  “Hola, Señor Val.  I will take care of your horse.”

“Gracias, chico,” Val said.  “Aquí el Señor Lancer?”  (Is Mr. Lancer here?)

“Si. El patrón está en la hacienda.”   (The patron is in the house.)

While Miguel led his horse to the barn, Val dusted himself off and headed for the house.  Opening the front door, he stepped inside and looked around.  Not seeing anyone, he took the stairs to the second floor.  

Walking down the hall, his first stop was his bedroom.  Since the incident with the McLeans, he had a permanent room right next to Johnny’s, where he could keep an eye on the boy.  But without Johnny here, it just didn’t feel the same.

Unbuckling his gun belt, Val hung it on the bedpost and turned to leave, but stopped when he got a look at himself in the mirror.  He knew Murdoch wouldn’t say anything about the way he looked, but still… He took a moment to change his shirt and comb his hair.  

One last look in the mirror, he shrugged.  “Ain’t gonna get no better,” he said aloud.

Val stepped into the hallway and shut his door behind him.  Walking past two rooms, he knocked softly and heard a muffled voice say, “Come in.”

Swinging the door open, he saw Scott propped up against a mountain of pillows.  Next to the bed, Murdoch sat with his legs stretched out in front of him.  There were smiles on both their faces.

“Val.  Come in.” Murdoch stood to shake the lawman’s hand.  “It’s good to see you.  You’ve made yourself scarce since Johnny left.”

“Things have been busy in town,” Val lied.  He worried that with Johnny gone, he might be an unwelcome reminder of Murdoch’s missing younger son.

“Well, you’re here now.  Come on in and take a seat.”

As Murdoch sat down, Val moved to the side of the bed.  “Scott, you’re looking better than the last time I saw you.  How are you feeling?”

Scott smiled and reached down, pulling the bed sheet away from his feet.  “See for yourself.” 

Val watched as Scott slowly moved the toes on both feet.  “Well, what do you know?  When did this happen?”

The feeling started coming back a few days ago.  It wasn’t until this morning that I could move them.   

There was a sound in the hallway, and Teresa entered carrying a tray.  She stopped when she saw Val, and a smile spread across her face.  “Val.  It’s good to see you.  We’ve missed you.”

Val stood and took the tray from the girl.  “I’ve missed you, too, and I especially missed Maria’s cooking.”

Everyone laughed as he turned, looked at the tray, and then at Scott.  “Where do you want this?”

“Right here will be fine,” Scott said and patted his lap. 

Val set the tray down and stepped back, allowing Teresa to move in and place a large cloth napkin under Scott’s chin.

“Now, don’t make a mess.”

 Scott glanced at the tray and frowned.  “Teresa, you know I’m getting tired of broth?”

“You sound just like Johnny,” she laughed.  “I’ll tell you what.  Sam will be out this afternoon.  If he says you can have something else, I’ll be glad to fix it for you.”   Turning, she looked at Val.  “Did he tell you the good news?”

“He sure did.  That’s one of the reasons I came out today… to see how he was doing.” 

“And the other?” Murdoch straightened up.  “You have news of Johnny?”

“I do.  It looks like the boy is gallivanting all over the state right now.”

“Tell us.”

“Got a telegram this morning from Frank Lindt down in Visalia.  He’s the marshal there.   Johnny rode in yesterday—”

“Do you know if he got my telegram?” Teresa interrupted.

“I figure he did, but that’s not the important part…I mean, it is important, but…”

She smiled.  “I know, Val.  Go on.”

“Lindt said Brad Hoyt rode into town yesterday, not long after Johnny.”

Scott had the cup of beef broth nearly to his lips and stopped.  Setting it down, he said, “And?”

“Hoyt’s dead.”

Murdoch leaned forward.  “Johnny?”

“Don’t worry, Murdoch.  From what Lindt said, it was a fair fight.”

Teresa’s face went pale.  “Was Johnny hurt?”

“No.  He’s fine.”

A collective sigh filled the room. 

Teresa relaxed her shoulders.  “Is he coming home?”    

“No.  Johnny’s still after Campbell and the Davis boys.  Lindt said Johnny’s going to Los Angeles—”

Murdoch jumped up.  “But I thought Campbell was seen in San Diego.” 

“Johnny’s going to Los Angeles first, then San Diego.  He figures Campbell might have backtracked.  If he’s not in either of those places, then he’ll be heading to Yuma.”

“Yuma.”  Teresa sank into a chair.  “But Val, he’s getting further away from home.”

“Johnny ain’t gonna give up until he gets all of them.  We all know that.”

“Val, would you do me a favor?” Scott pushed the untouched tray aside.  “Send a telegram to him and tell him to come home.  It looks like he won’t listen to us, but he will listen to you.”

“You think so?”

“He always has.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I’ll send it tomorrow.”

“Send one from me as well,” Murdoch said. 

“What do you want me to say?”

“Just tell him Scott’s asking for him.”

Val smiled.  “Easy enough.”

“I’m going downstairs to start dinner.  It will be nice to have you with us, Val.” Teresa hurried out of the room, leaving the men alone.

Murdoch looked at Scott, who was already dozing off.  He picked up the tray from the bed and carried it to the door.  “Val, let’s go downstairs and let Scott rest.” 

Taking the back stairs, they were greeted by the warmth of the kitchen and the aromas wafting from the stove.

Maria, stirring a bubbling pot, looked up and smiled when she saw Val.  “Señor Val, you have been away too long,” she exclaimed.  She shook her head in disapproval.  “You are too thin!  Is no one feeding you in town?”

“Yes, ma’am, but no one cooks as good as you.”

She laughed and turned back to her work. 

Teresa came in from the garden with a basket of vegetables.  Seeing Val, she said, “Val, do you need anything in your room?”  When he hesitated, she added, “You are staying tonight?”

Val turned to Murdoch.  “I planned to spend the night… if that’s alright.”

Murdoch placed a hand on Val’s shoulder.  “We’ve already had this conversation, more than once.  You’re always welcome at Lancer.  I consider this your home, and if I didn’t,” Murdoch laughed, “I know a boy who would throw a fit if you weren’t here.”

“Come on, let’s get a drink and sit down.  Larry won’t be joining us tonight.  He’s staying with the work crew at the North line shack tonight.”

Val nodded.  “Tate doing alright taking care of things while Scott’s laid up and Johnny’s gone?”

“Yes.  He’s still learning, but Cipriano says he’s doing a good job.  Now, how about that drink?”

“Sounds good.”

Val accepted a glass and sat down.  “You really think I can get Johnny to come home?”

“If you can’t, then no one can,” Murdoch sighed before giving Val a closer look.  He didn’t like the expression on his friend’s face.  “What are you thinking?”

“I’m just hoping you’re right.”

“You have doubts?”

“I… I don’t know.  Things have changed since we got back from Mexico.  Last time, after Slade and the others left, it took you and me together a while to get him to settle in.”

Murdoch nodded and gave a little laugh, “I remember.”

“This time, though, he has friends.  Friends who will ride with him and watch his back.  He’s been alone in the game his entire life, and having others with him makes a big difference.  For someone with Johnny’s reputation, that’s something new, something that makes being in the game…”  Val paused, unsure of the right words

“You don’t think what we have to offer him is enough anymore?”

Val sighed.  “I didn’t say that exactly, but yeah, that’s what I mean.”

Murdoch looked away, not sure how to respond.

“Look, Murdoch, I might be wrong, but I do know one thing for sure: when it comes right down to it, you hold all the cards, or at least three of the aces.  You, Scott, and this place…it’s something he’s wanted his whole life.  As much as he might want the power that comes with being Johnny Madrid and carrying a gun, he wants to be Scott’s brother and Murdoch Lancer’s son even more.”

“And the fourth ace?”

Val smiled, “That would be me.  I like being the sheriff of Green River, and don’t plan on going anywhere.”

That brought a smile to Murdoch’s face.  “You’re right, between us, we have the winning hand.   Now, all we need to do is get him home and convince him this is where he belongs.”

“Who knows, it might not be that hard.  There were times he hated being a gunfighter.  I think he’s forgotten how rough it can be, even when you’re riding with someone else. 

“Once this thing with Campbell and the Davis brothers is over, I’m hoping he’ll have had enough.  That’s when he’ll come home, and not before.”

Murdoch raised his glass.  “Then here’s to the day Johnny comes home.”

Val raised his glass, hoping he was right.  The longer Johnny was Madrid, the harder it would be to make him see sense. 

---

Sam Jenkins flicked the reins, urging his horse into a brisk trot.  He had promised to arrive at Lancer by four and knew he was late.   He pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time.  Almost six.  Well, he’d still be there in time for dinner.

As soon as he stopped in front of the hacienda, the French doors opened and Murdoch walked out.  “Sam, we expected you earlier.”

“I had to detour to the Baur’s.  Young Marty broke his arm.”

“Is he alright?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Good…good.  Come on in.  Val’s here.”  Murdoch looked around the yard and signaled one of the ranch hands to take Sam’s horse. 

Sam grabbed his medical bag and followed Murdoch.  Inside, he found Val sitting in one of the tall upholstered chairs in front of the fireplace.  “Val.”

Val stood to shake the doctor’s hand.  “Sam.  I heard what you said.  How did Marty break his arm?”

Sam laughed, “He said he fell out of a tree.”

“You don’t believe him?”

“Yes and no.  I think the tree Marty fell out of was Mort Simpson’s apple tree, but he won’t admit it.”

Murdoch went to the drink cart.  “Drink?”

“Do we have time?  I was afraid I’d be late for dinner.”

Murdoch looked at the clock on the wall.  “We have a few minutes.”

Sam thought for a moment.  “No.  I’ll wait until after I’ve seen Scott.  I want a clear head.  How’s he doing?”

Murdoch smiled.  “He moved his toes this morning.”

Sam grinned.  “Really.”

“Yes.”

Sam heaved a sigh of relief.  “You know, just a week ago, I didn’t think he had much of a chance of walking again.”

“And now?”

“Now… well,” he said with a warm smile spreading across his face.  “I’ve become a believer in miracles.  I guess I have to, after being around this family.  The number of times Johnny has pulled through is enough to convince me.  Speaking of Johnny, have you heard any news about him?”

Val nodded and repeated what he had told the others.

“Yuma,” Sam frowned, “is awfully close to the border.  Is it safe for him there?”

“He should be alright if he stays on this side.  I’m sending a telegram to Yuma tomorrow asking him to come home again.  It’ll be waiting for him when he gets there.”

“Let’s hope it works.”

Teresa came through from the kitchen carrying a platter of roast beef.  “Hello, Sam,” she said, and then looked at Murdoch.  “Dinner’s ready.”

“Gentlemen, let’s not keep the lady waiting.”

As Val joined Murdoch and Sam in the dining room, he wondered what Johnny would find in Los Angeles and San Diego.  Better yet, he wondered how much influence he still had over the boy.

---

As Maria began to clear away the dishes, Sam pushed back from the table and patted his stomach.  “Maria, Teresa, that was delicious.”

Teresa smiled.  “Maria did most of it.”

“Well, you both deserve praise.  I don’t think there are cooks anywhere in the valley as good as you two.”

Maria smiled, “Gracias, Señor Sam.”

Sam pushed back from the table and stood.  “I’d better go up and see Scott.”

“I’ll come with you,” Murdoch said.  “Val?”

“Naw, I think I’ll go check on my horse.  Scott’ll have enough company with the two of you.  I’ll see you before I turn in.”   

---

The next morning, after having one of Maria’s breakfasts, Val went back to town.  

Sam’s report on Scott was like a ray of sunshine cutting through a gloomy storm, bringing relief and the best news in weeks.

Scott still had a long way to go, but Sam was confident that with time and patience, he would regain the ability to walk.   The rest depended on Scott himself.  There was one person who could speed that recovery, but he was missing.

Once back in town, Val’s first stop was his office.  Satisfied that Danny had things under control, he turned around and headed for the telegraph office.  It took a few minutes to write the telegrams, but he finally came up with simple, straightforward wording for both.  He looked at his name at the bottom. 

Frank Jefferies sat down and read it.  “You know he hasn’t answered the ones you sent to any of the other towns?”

“I know, but just send them.”

As he touched the telegraph key, he asked.  “Where do you want them sent?”

“Los Angeles.”

“Los Angeles, it is.”

---

It had been two weeks since Val sent his telegrams to Los Angeles.  He only hoped the boy would eventually get there, read them, and head home.

Every day since, Val stopped by the telegraph office for news from Johnny.  Today, he had just stepped inside when Frank looked up from the paper he was writing on.

“Val, I’m glad you’re here.  This just came in from San Diego.”

Val took the piece of paper and read it.  He’d expected the telegram to be from Johnny, but it wasn’t.  After reading the message, Val closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You want to send a reply?”

“No.  No reply, but I want to send one to Yuma.”  Val bent over the counter and wrote out a message.  Signing it Val didn’t seem right — not this time.  He struck through his name and signed it ‘Papi.’ 

He handed it to Frank and waited until he read it.   “You think this will bring Johnny home?”

“We can only hope.”

As Frank sent the telegram, Val walked to his office.  He was thinking he should let the folks at Lancer know the latest news when he saw Walt and Pedro in front of Hurley’s Feed Store.

Val raised his hand and called out, “Walt.”

Walt wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and waved back.  “Val.”

“Glad I caught you in town.  You headed back to the ranch right away?”

“As soon as we get these sacks loaded and pick up the mail.”

“Good, I just got a telegram from the town marshal down in San Diego.  Can you take it back with you to Murdoch?”

“I sure can.  Anything you can tell me?”

“Yes, Emmett Davis is dead.  Killed last night.”

“Did Johnny do it?”

“There’s no mention of Johnny.  Looks like Emmett got caught cheating at cards and ended up on the wrong end of the deal.”

Walt nodded.  “I always thought Emmett was just a little too lucky at cards.  With him and Hoyt gone, that only leaves Billy and Campbell.”

“Let Murdoch know I’ve sent a telegram to Johnny in Yuma letting him know about Emmett and asking him to come home…again.  Maybe this time he’ll take it to heart and head back.”

“I hope so.  The boss has been a bear since Sam let him out of bed, and the way I hear it, Scott ain’t much better.”

“Scott alright?”

“Tates says he’s moving around some and has more feeling in his legs.  He’s still got a ways to go, but he’ll be up and walking in no time.”

Val smiled.  “At least that’s good news.  Maybe things are looking up after all.”

The words weren’t even out of his mouth when Val heard his name being called.  Turning, he saw Frank running down the street, waving another telegram above his head.

“You might have spoken too soon,” Walt laughed.   

The telegraph operator stopped in front of Val and held out his hand. 

“What now, Frank?”

“You’d better read it, Val.”

Opening the telegram, Val read it and shook his head.  “Damn.”

“You want to send a reply to this one?”

Val nodded.  “Yeah, Frank, wire them back and tell them I’m coming.”

“What about…?”

“Just tell them…just tell them what I said.  Don’t mention any other names.”

“Alright, but …”

Val started to crumple the piece of paper in his hand and thought better of it.  “You just get the damn telegram sent, Frank.”

As Frank hurried away, Val turned to Walt.   “Give this one to Murdoch, too.  Tell him I’m headed for Arizona.”

Walt read the telegram and shook his head in dismay.   “It don’t sound good.”

“No, it don’t.  Hell, when it rains, it pours.”

 “You stopping in Yuma on the way?”

“Yeah, I’m stopping in Yuma.”

---

Yuma, Arizona Territory

Johnny leaned back in his chair and lowered his head, allowing the brim of his hat to shield his eyes.  Scanning the dimly lit cantina, he was sure that everyone in the place knew who he was, if not why he was there.

After leaving Visalia, he kept heading south.  It didn’t take long to confirm that Hoyt hadn’t been lying; Campbell and the Davis brothers had gone their separate ways, even if they were going in the same direction. 

He didn’t find Campbell in Los Angeles and guessed he wouldn’t be in San Diego anymore either, but he did learn that Emmett and Billy had passed through there on their way to San Diego.  Determined to catch up with them, he tracked their route along the coast road into San Diego.

Since leaving Visalia, he had been using the name Madrid.  Falling back into his old habits was easier than he expected, and he discovered, with some satisfaction, that his name hadn’t been forgotten, nor had his reputation.

In the three months he’d been on the trail, he had only drawn his gun three times, and one of those had been against Hoyt.  It seemed that his name alone was enough to discourage most men from calling him out. 

The one thing he hadn’t gotten used to was the constant effort it took to watch his back and the lack of sleep that came with it.  Closing his eyes, he realized how tired he was. 

Johnny stifled a yawn and ran his fingers over his eyes and the stubble on his face.  A wave of exhaustion washed over him, heavier than he’d felt in a long time.  Sighing, he tried to remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep.  After a few moments’ thought, it hit him: it was before Stockton—before the bushwhacking.

Even when he managed to sleep, the dreams…no nightmares, would come.  For months after Mexico, he would jerk awake, soaked in sweat, with the image of Hector Sanchez’s grinning face staring at him.  There were even times he could still hear the sound of the whip and feel the pain of the lashes across his back. 

Now, his nights were haunted by Farley Campbell, the sound of gunfire, and Scott’s scream.  Each time, he would wake up imagining how it would feel to kill Campbell, and if it would be as satisfying as when he’d killed Sanchez.

Reaching for the half-empty bottle of tequila he’d been nursing all day, Johnny poured himself a drink.

True to his word, Val made sure there was a telegram for him in nearly every town he passed through.  In Los Angeles, there were two.  The first one from Val had only two words: ‘Come home.’ 

The second was from Murdoch.  He remembered how it read.

John Lancer
Los Angeles

Scott asking for you.  Stop.  We need you.  Stop.  Come home.  Stop.

Murdoch

Johnny smiled, imagining the two men coordinating their messages.  The exact two words had been in every telegram he’d received: ‘Come home.’

He hadn’t answered either of them and instead tucked them in his saddlebags with all the others.  No, he wasn’t ready to head back, and truth be told, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to that life.

Sure, he had tried to fit in at Lancer and done a more than fair job of settling in.  He knew he could do it again…but…hell, who was he kidding?

He downed his drink and took a breath.

As Johnny Madrid, he had a sense of power and confidence that felt right.   However, despite everything Murdoch was offering him, being here—being Johnny Madrid—was as natural to him as breathing.

Life as Johnny Lancer was still too new and uncomfortable.  It was like wearing a new pair of boots that didn’t fit quite right.  Over the past two years, there were days he longed for the excitement and thrill of the game, knowing he was the best at what he did.  The thought of going back to digging post holes, stringing wire, and herding cattle, well…

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Johnny poured another shot of tequila.

Yesterday, after arriving in Yuma, he’d gone straight to the telegraph office.  A telegram was waiting for him, dated only a week earlier.  Opening it, he reread it.

Johnny Lancer
Yuma, Arizona

Emmett Davis reported killed in San Diego one week ago.  Stop.  No sign of Billy or Campbell.  Stop.  Time to come home.  Stop.

Papi

Smiling, he tossed the thin piece of paper on the table next to the untouched drink.   Old news there.  Hell, he already knew all about Emmett.  As for Billy, well, he hoped the boy was on his way to Texas.

Johnny thought back to the day, a little over a week ago, when he rode into San Diego.  He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever catch up with Campbell or the Davis brothers.

He checked into a hotel on the outskirts of town, not wanting to draw attention to himself.  Then he visited every seedy saloon and cantina he could find.  It was late that first night when he finally spotted Emmett.  

Johnny edged into the saloon.  As he passed the bar, he pulled his hat down over his eyes and ordered a beer.

“Sure thing.  Go ahead and find a seat.  I’ll bring it to you.”

Keeping his head down, Johnny nodded.   He moved around the room and found a table in the back where he could watch the action.  The older Davis was playing poker and not doing a bad job of winning. 

A few minutes later, the bartender set a mug in front of him.  “That’ll be four bits.”

Johnny reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a dollar, and tossed it on the table.  “Bring another when this one’s gone.”

The bartender nodded and started to turn.  He gave Johnny a closer look and paled.  In a low voice, he said, “I don’t want no trouble in here.”

Johnny raised his head and met the man’s eyes.  “You won’t have any.  Just keep quiet and go about your business.”

“Yes, Sir, Mister…” the man gulped.  “Yes, Sir.”

Johnny sipped the lukewarm beer, wishing he’d ordered tequila, but knowing he needed to keep a clear head.  

For nearly an hour, Johnny watched as Emmett won most of the hands.  He was beginning to wonder if the man was cheating when one of the other players seemed to have the same idea.

Emmett pushed away from the table.  “You calling me a cheater?” 

“It’s damn funny you keep winning…hand after hand like that.  No one’s that lucky.”

“Maybe I’m just a better poker player than you.”

From across the room, Johnny saw Billy Davis step over to his brother’s side.  “Emmett.”

“Billy, stay out of this.” 

Johnny pushed himself out of the chair and stood.  He took a few steps forward until he was directly behind the other player. 

Billy was the first to see him and tugged at his brother’s arm.  “Emmett.”

“I said—” Emmett started, and then caught sight of Johnny. 

Johnny gave the Davis brothers a faint smile and watched as Emmett’s eyes widened and he reached for his gun.

Johnny’s hand was on the butt of his Colt as the other poker player, thinking Emmett was drawing on him, drew and fired.  When the smoke cleared, Emmett Davis was lying on the floor with a hole in his chest.

Johnny picked up his hat and brushed past the group of men who were trying to figure out what had happened.  He went to Billy and looked the boy in the eyes.  “I remember what you did for me back on the trail.  You kept Campbell from killing me.  That’s the only reason you’re alive right now.”

Wordlessly, a shocked Billy Davis looked down at his brother’s body and then back at Johnny.

“You know where Campbell is?”

With tears in his eyes, Billy shook his head.  “Not really.  We haven’t seen him since we… Well, since that day.  Look, Johnny, I didn’t want anything to do with the ambush.  You were good to me.”

“That’s right, we were.  Our mistake.” Johnny put his hat on, pulled it down over his eyes, and started toward the door.  “Bury your brother, Billy, and don’t ever let me set eyes on you again.  Understand?” 

Johnny left San Diego the next day, riding east to Yuma. 

---

A hot, tired, and frustrated Val stepped off the stagecoach in Yuma.  Stretching his back, he looked around and let out a sigh, feeling as if he’d been traveling for months instead of just a few days.

Looking up, he saw the stage driver lowering his saddle to him.  “Here you go, Mister.” 

Val reached for the heavy saddle and set it down on the boardwalk beside him.  Then, he took his saddlebags from the driver.  “Thanks.”

“You looking for a hotel?”

Val nodded.  “The Casa de Coronado still in business?”

“Sure is.  You know your way around?”

“Been here a few times.”

He’d been in Yuma enough times to know his way around.  He picked up his gear and started walking south along the boardwalk.  A few blocks from the Butterfield Stage Office, he spotted the hotel’s sign. 

The Casa de Coronado wasn’t much, but as a hotel, it was the best Yuma had to offer.  The only alternatives were rooms over the saloons, and Val was looking for some peace and quiet, not to mention a soft bed and clean sheets.

After checking in, he stowed his things and set out to find out if Johnny was in town.  Standing in front of the hotel, he looked around to get his bearings.

Val was sure that if the boy had been here, he would have gone by the telegraph office, so that was his first stop.  He made his way to the whitewashed building a few blocks from the hotel.

Pushing open the squeaking door, he stepped inside and looked around the dimly lit room.  He patiently waited for the telegraph operator to stop focusing on the rhythmic clatter of the keypad and notice him.

Finally, the room grew silent, and a young man with a thin mustache glanced up.  “Can I help you?”

“The name’s Crawford, Val Crawford.  I’m looking for someone who may have come in for a telegram.”

The man thought for a second.  “Crawford… Crawford.”  His face lit up.  “Now I remember.  Received a telegram from you about a week ago.  It was addressed to a Johnny Lancer.”

“Yep, that’s me.  Did Lancer pick it up?”

“Well, it was picked up, alright.  The man said his name was Lancer, but between you and me, that wasn’t his name.”

“Then who was he?”

“Madrid.  I know him.  I’ve seen him a time or two here in Yuma.  It was Madrid, alright, but he said he was Johnny Lancer.  So, I gave it to him.”

Val smiled.  “So, when did Madrid pick up the telegram?”

“Yesterday.”

Val’s heart beat faster.  “Yesterday, you said.  Do you know if he’s still in town?”

The operator nodded.  “Sure is.  He’s over at the Silver Dollar.  He’s been there most of last night and today, just sitting at the back corner table.  Folks say he’s working on a bottle of tequila.”

Val turned to the door, calling over his shoulder.  “Thanks.”

Once outside, he looked to his right and smiled.  The Silver Dollar was just up the street.  With long, determined strides, he headed that way.  Loud voices and music echoed from a block away. 

Pausing at the batwing doors, he looked over the top to scan the room.  Through the smoky haze, his eyes quickly locked onto Johnny, sitting in the back in a dark corner. 

Val hesitated for a moment, taking in the sight of the boy.  Even from the doorway, he could see a thinner version of the person who had left Green River a few months earlier. 

Pushing through the door, he walked across the room.

---

Johnny reread the telegram and smiled.  Val was getting serious; it was the first time he’d signed one as ‘Papi.’   Maybe tomorrow he would wire Green River and Lancer, just to let them know where he was. 

The thought had barely crossed his mind when a shadow fell across the table.  Annoyed, he looked up, ready to confront the person blocking his light.  As his eyes met the source of the shadow, he found himself staring into a pair of deep, dark brown eyes—intense and unwavering, fixed on him like a hawk watching its prey.

“Val!  What are you doing here?”

Without a word, Val kicked a chair away from the table and sank into it.   With his eyes still fixed on Johnny, Val leaned across the table, grabbed the glass of tequila, tipped it back, and drank it in one gulp.  Without hesitation, he poured himself another.

Johnny smiled.  “Help yourself.”

Val huffed, “I plan to.”

“You didn’t answer me.  What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

Johnny sat up straight and leaned forward.  “Is everything alright at Lancer?” 

“The only thing wrong at Lancer is that you’re not there.”

“I picked up your telegram yesterday, but I hadn’t planned to head back.  I’m still going after Campbell.”

“Well, your plans just got changed.  We’re headed to Nogales in the morning.”

Johnny cocked his head.  “Nogales?”

Val nodded.  “Got a telegram last week…right after I sent one to you.”

Val took a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and tossed it on the table.  “It’s from Bonner.”

Johnny picked it up and read it.

Val Crawford
Green River, California

Need help.  Worthington Ranch.  Come quick.  Bring JM.

Bonner
Nogales

Johnny sat up straighter and pushed his hat back.  “He’s still riding with Slade?”

“That’s right.” Val sipped the tequila and grimaced.  “You’ve been drinking this stuff?  Tastes like horse piss.”

Johnny chuckled, “Didn’t stop you from downing the first glass.”

“I was thirsty.”

Johnny looked at the telegram again and shook his head.  “You got this last week.  Hell, Val, anything could have happened since then.”

“I know, but I’ve been keeping in touch with Sam.  He hasn’t gotten anything else, saying not to come.   Joe and Molly would have sent word if we weren’t needed, or if…”

“If Slade’s dead?”

“Yeah, but from the sound of it, Slade needs help.  You know Bonner wouldn’t have asked for you otherwise.”

“I know.  So…Scott,” Johnny changed the subject. “How’s he doing?”

Val nodded.  “He’s got feeling back in his legs if that’s what you mean.  Sam says it’ll be a long road, but he thinks he’ll be able to walk again.”

Johnny closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and blew it out.  “Gracias a Dios.”

Val paused for a moment before speaking again.  “They miss you, boy.  You don’t know how tough it’s been on all of them, especially Scott, not having you there.”

Johnny lowered his head, but didn’t reply.  Scott was the one thing in his life that he thanked God for every day.  If anything could draw him back to Lancer, it was him.

“I know.” Val threw up his hands.  “You had to do what you had to do, but as soon as we figure out what’s going on in Arizona, I’m taking you home.”

Johnny raised his head and smiled.  “You are…are you?”

“Damn right.” 

Val looked at the drink and pushed it away.  He leaned back to get a better look at Johnny and realized the boy hadn’t been taking care of himself.  There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair hung down to his collar, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days.  The red shirt he wore was covered in trail dust, even though he’d arrived in Yuma the day before.  

“You getting any sleep?”

Johnny raised his head and smiled.  “Some.”

“Not enough, though.”

“No, not enough.”

“Besides sleep, it looks like you need to visit the barber, and while you’re at it, the bathhouse.”

Johnny laughed.  “Hell, Val, I don’t need a mama.”

“You didn’t use to let yourself get this rundown.  Guess it’s a good thing I came.”

When Johnny said nothing, Val knew he was right.

The bartender cautiously approached the table, as if he were afraid Johnny might jump up and shoot him.  “You need anything else, Mr. Madrid?”

Johnny looked at Val, who asked, “Does this place still serve food?”

Johnny snorted.  “It does, and believe me, you don’t want it.  Let’s head over to the cantina.”  Johnny pushed away from the table, and the bartender took a step back.  Johnny tossed some money on the table and waited for Val to join him.

As Val passed the man, he said, “Thanks, but as the man said…”

“I know.  The cantina has better eats than we do.”

Val laughed and patted the man on his shoulder.   “Don’t worry about it.  We’ll be back later.”

The bartender nodded and watched Madrid walk out onto the street before heaving a sigh of relief.

Val quickly caught up with Johnny.  “What do you say we clean up before we eat?  I’ve been cooped up on that stage for a week and need a bath, and from the smell of you, so do you.

Johnny stopped, looked at Val, and shook his head.  “You know you can be right annoying.”

Val smiled.  “I know, but you’re getting that bath, a shave, and a haircut.  I ain’t riding with no saddle tramp.”

“You at Casa de Coronado?” Johnny said as they walked.

“Second floor front.”

“You can always room with me.”

Val shook his head.  “Not tonight, boy.  Tonight, I want a quiet room.  You toss and turn too much.”

“And you snore.”

Val laughed and slapped Johnny on the back.  “Damn, I’ve missed you, hijo.”

“Yeah, I kinda missed you, too, Papi.”

After picking up a change of clothes from their rooms, they went to the only barber in town, who also had tubs in the back room. 

Almost an hour later, feeling better than he had in weeks, Johnny walked alongside Val to the cantina. 

Val scanned the street as they walked, knowing Johnny was doing the same.  He remembered the last time he had been in Yuma.  He had ridden into town with Johnny, Murdoch, Scott, Jack Slade, and ten gunfighters.  They hadn’t been in town for more than an hour when someone called out for Johnny, and it wasn’t just one man — it was two.  Johnny had no trouble taking them down, but it was clear that no matter where he went, there was always someone after his reputation.

At the edge of town, an old red adobe building stood out among the newer structures on the street.  The gentle sound of guitar music and the aroma of spicy Mexican food drew them inside.  They found a corner table, placed their order, and settled in to talk.

“So, Val, tell me about what’s going on at Lancer.”

Val noticed that Johnny said ‘Lancer’ and not ‘home,’ but let it go.  “There’s a lot to tell.  You’ve been gone three months.”  

The bartender brought a bottle of tequila along with bowls of lime and salt before going to get their food.  Val reached for the bottle and poured them both a drink.

“Right after you left, Murdoch took a turn for the worse.  Sam spent a couple of days at the ranch helping him through it.”  Seeing the expression on Johnny’s face, he added, “He was having chest pains and a fever set in.” 

“He made it through all right?”

“Seems it was close.  Teresa wanted to send one of the men to catch up with you and bring you back, but Murdoch wouldn’t have it.  He’s alright now.”

Johnny bowed his head.  “What about Scott?”

“Scott woke up about a week after you left.  He wasn’t told about his legs until a week after that.  He took it hard, thinking he’d never walk again.  Then, slowly, the feeling returned to his back and legs.   The day he moved his toes, the whole ranch was ready to throw a fiesta.”

“So, he was walking when you left?”

“No, not exactly, but he was up and using crutches.  Once Sam took the cast off his leg, no one could keep him in bed.”

“How’s Tate doing?  He and Cip managing the ranch alright?”

Val nodded.  “Tate’s turned into a right fine rancher, and he and Teresa couldn’t be happier.”

“Cip having any problems?”

Val heaved a sigh.  “I really haven’t been out to the ranch much lately.  I go out about once a week, or if I have something to tell them, but I’ve only stayed out there one or two times.  Just don’t seem right with you not there.”

“You know how the old man feels.  You’re family.”

“I know how Murdoch feels, but…well, I’ll start going back out there when you get back.  Looks like Murdoch and me’ll have our hands full settling you back into ranch life again.” 

“Think I won’t be able to settle in?”

“You tell me.”

Johnny looked away and changed the subject.  “I wonder what’s taking so long for the food?”

Val nodded.  So, this was the way it was going to be.  For the first time since seeing him again, he began to worry about getting Johnny back to Lancer at all.

“I got that telegram from Frank Lindt about Hoyt.”

“Figured he sent one.”

“So, what about bringing Hoyt back to Green River for trial?”

Johnny gave him a faint smile.  “Seems Hoyt wasn’t interested.”

“And what about Emmett and Billy?”

“Someone else took care of Emmett for me.”

“And Billy?”

“Billy won’t be a problem to anyone anymore.”

“You kill him?”

Johnny shook his head.  “No.  Billy tried to help me back on the road.  Figured, I return the favor.  He’s headed for Texas, but I told him never to let me set eyes on him again.”

Val was surprised.  He figured he was right and none of the men would stand trial or see a hangman’s rope.  He only hoped Billy Davis realized how lucky he was.  Now, Campbell would be a different story.

When the food arrived, Johnny looked at Val and smiled.  “It’s not as good as Maria’s, but it comes close.”

Val took a bite and nodded.   

For the next hour, they ate and talked about everything except Johnny returning to Lancer.  It seemed like the topic would have to wait for another time.

Pushing away from the table, Val patted his stomach and let out a loud burp.  “Excuse me.”

Johnny laughed.  “You’re excused.” 

Val saw the look on Johnny’s face and looked around the cantina, which was getting more crowded by the minute.  “What do you say we head over to the hotel?  We’ve got to get an early start, and we can talk some more.”

Once back at the hotel, they didn’t talk for long.  Val was tired, and truth be told, so was Johnny. 

---

The next morning, Val met Johnny in the lobby before going to the telegraph office. 

Val sent two wires.  One telegram was sent to Green River to let Murdoch know that he was with Johnny and they would stay in touch.  The other was sent to Joe Worthington, letting him know they were on their way.

For Val, it felt just like old times riding with Johnny.  The days were packed with banter and long stretches of silence.  Nights by the campfire were spent talking about anything and everything.

They were careful not to cross the border, and everything was going well until they were about fifty miles from Nogales. 

Johnny was watching the trail ahead when he suddenly pulled up short and raised a hand.  “Val, take a look.”

Val stepped down and knelt, looking at the hoof prints on the hard-packed Arizona ground.  “They’re not shod.  How many do you figure?”

Johnny looked around and shook his head.  “I don’t know, but more than I want to tangle with.”

Val scanned the surrounding desert and the hilltops.  “Apache?”

“No way to tell.  Could be Navajo or Pima.  Heard the government set up a reservation for the Apache north of here in San Carlos.”

Val snorted.  “Well, that doesn’t mean they’re all on the reservation.  Which way do you figure we should head?”

“The tracks are headed the way we planned to go.  I’d hate for their rear scouts to find us trailing behind.  We could cut south—”

“Not south.  We’re already too close to the border as it is.”

Johnny looked at the tracks again and then north.  “Alright, if we can’t keep going east or south, that leaves north.  It’ll slow us down to go around them, but…”

“But nothing.  I’d rather slow down than run into them.  You know of any water holes up that way?”

Johnny shook his head.  “Not really, but the monsoon season is here.  I expect we can find water.”

Val lifted his canteen from the saddle horn and shook it.  “I have about half.”

Johnny checked his.  “Same.”

Val mounted and took another look around.  “No sense in staying here.”

They rode north for an hour, but while avoiding one band of Indians, they crossed the trail of another.

“We’re gonna have to hole up somewhere,” Val said as he looked at the new tracks.  “We keep this up and they’re sure to spot us.”

Johnny nodded.  “Let’s head for high ground and see if we can wait them out.”

From their hiding spot in the rock, they watched as the two groups of Indians came together, not far from them. 

Keeping his voice low, Johnny said, “Apache for sure.”

“Yeah, I wonder what they’re up to.  I thought we had a treaty with them.”

“We do, but not all the chiefs are ready to go to a reservation.”

“Best we stay here until we’re sure they’ve cleared out down there.”

Johnny nodded and leaned against the rocks blocking the Apache’s view of them.   “You’ll get no argument from me.” He looked around and spotted a pool of water that had collected on the rocks during the last storm.  “I’ll see how much water I can get in the canteens.  You keep watching them.”

“Sure wish we could light a fire.  It’s gonna get cold up here tonight, and I could use a cup of coffee.”

Johnny laughed.  “I’d rather keep my hair.”

---

After a day and a night of hiding out, Val and Johnny were finally able to work their way east again.   They bypassed Nogales and went straight to the ranch.

When they saw Rancho Worthington in the distance, both men felt a sense of relief.  After days of riding, they were ready to be out of the saddle. 

The first thing they noticed was the men standing at the front gate, just as there had been the last time Johnny visited.  More men gathered around the corral, and even from a distance, Johnny could tell they were not Mexican.

A shot was fired from the top of the water tower, signaling that riders were coming.  The men at the corral moved to the center of the yard, spread out, and kept their hands on their guns, ready to draw.

It wasn’t until they reached the gate that a yell of “Madrid!” went up.  The men in the yard relaxed, and Johnny could see smiles on their faces.

Val moved closer to him.  “Is that Bryant and Lambert?”

Johnny nodded.  “And Clint Stewart and Bill Martin.”

Val squinted and leaned forward in the saddle, trying to get a better look.  “Yeah, and Williams and Hayes.  Damn, Bonner brought in the troops.”

Johnny smiled.   Yes, it looked like the core of Madrid’s Army was standing there waiting for them.  As he stopped in front of the house, he took a moment to look around.  All the gunfighters who had been with him on the journey back from Mexico, except for Tate, Bonner, and Gammon, were here.

It wasn’t long before a grinning Jess Bonner stepped out of the house, walked across the yard, and looked up at them.  “Damn, it’s good to see you two.”

“Val, got your telegram.  What’s happened?  Where’s Slade?”

Jess nodded.  Just like Johnny to get down to business.  “Slade’s been shot.  It happened the day before I sent the telegram to Val.”  

Johnny’s face stilled.  “How—?”

Before Johnny could finish the sentence, Joe stepped out of the barn, and Molly hurried from the house, both looking just the same as they had a year ago. 

“Well, get down, boys,” Joe said.  “We’ve been waiting for you.  Thought you’d be here before now.”

Val pushed his hat back and laughed.  “Hell, Joe, you know I can’t take this one anywhere that we don’t run into trouble.”

“Trouble?” Joe glanced between Val and Johnny, concern evident on his face.

Val raised his hand.  “No gunplay.  We ran into a band of Apache west of Nogales along the border.  Had to change directions a few times.”

“Well, you’re here now.” Molly held out her arms.  “Come down here, John, and let me hug you.”

Johnny pushed his hat off his head to let it hang by the stampede string and dismounted.  His feet hadn’t even touched the ground when Molly wrapped him in her arms.  Pushing him back at arm’s length, she looked him over.  “You never put on weight, young man.” 

Then, giving his beard a critical look, she shook her head again.  “And that beard.  My word.  That just won’t do.” 

“Hadn’t had much of a chance to shave since we left Yuma,” Johnny said.

“Still, you’re here now, and you’ll shave it off as soon as you can.  I can’t even see your handsome face with all that hair.”

All Johnny could do was blush, nod, and respond with a weak, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Molly, let the boy be.” Joe laughed as he reached out his hand to shake.  “Johnny, it’s good to see you.” 

“It’s good to see you, too, Joe.”  Glancing around, he added, “Good to see all of you.”

“You must be tired and hungry.  Come inside and eat before you see Jack.”

Johnny’s eyes met Molly’s.  “He’s…?”

She smiled.  “Yes, he’s alive, thank the Lord.” Then, turning to look at Val as if realizing for the first time that he was there.  “Val, it’s good to see you, too.”

Val smiled.  “Well, I was starting to wonder if Johnny was the only one welcome.”

“Nonsense.” Molly took Val’s arm.  “It’s just that I’ve been worried sick about him ever since Joshua wrote that he’d left Lancer looking for those awful men.”

“Yeah,” Jess Stewart added, “we heard Johnny already found three of them.”

Val shot Johnny a sidelong glance, letting him respond.

“I did, but Farley Campbell is still out there somewhere.” 

Johnny didn’t see the look on Jess Bonner’s face as Molly, not to be disobeyed, said, “He’s not here right now, and you are.  Come inside and let me get you something to eat.”

“Molly, I’d really like to see Slade first.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed.  “All right, but Jack’s sleeping, and don’t you dare wake him up.”

Johnny looked at Barranca and Val’s horse and started to speak, but Jake Williams took the horse’s reins.  “You go ahead.  We’ll take care of the horses and stow your gear.”

“Thanks.” Johnny patted Barranca’s neck and followed Molly inside.

The ranch house hadn’t changed at all since the last time he had been there, a year earlier.  It was still neat and clean, something that was hard to do in a place where sand crept into every crevice.

“Jack is in the back bedroom.”  Molly pointed to the room on the right. 

Johnny took off his hat and let it hang from the back of a kitchen chair before walking through the living room.

It had only been a few months since he last saw Jack Slade.  Back then, he was full of life, with a warm, sun-kissed complexion.  Now, however, he looked small and thin, with skin that had a pale, ashy hue.  This wasn’t the same man who had helped Johnny celebrate his twentieth birthday and shared a bottle of tequila with him to ring in the New Year at Lancer.

The transformation was haunting; a chilling reminder of how quickly life could change.

Johnny turned to see Val, Joe, and Molly standing behind him.  He looked at Molly and asked,  “How is…?”

“He’s better.  It’s taken some time, and he’s still very weak.  He spends most of his time sleeping, but Ben Lawson says he’ll make it.”

Johnny recalled Doctor Lawson from his time at the encampment near Nogales.

“He just needs time to get his strength back.”  She paused.  “He was lucky Jess was there and got him here as soon as he did.  Otherwise…”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence.  They all understood what would have happened.

Johnny remembered the promise he made to Jack and Jess a year ago on the hill overlooking Lancer, after McLean had come for him.

“Johnny, could I ask you a favor?” Slade had said, dipping his head.

“Whatever you want.”

“When my time finally comes…. well, … hell, I’m not sure how to say this.”

“Just get it said, Jack.” 

Slade took a deep breath and let it out.  Looking directly into Johnny’s eyes, he found his words, “When my time comes, I’d like to be laid to rest here, on Lancer.  Haven’t had many places I’ve felt at home in my life.  Lancer feels like home to me.” 

Understanding, Johnny answered without hesitation, “I can make that happen.” 

“Johnny,” Bonner spoke up, “I’d like that, too.  I don’t have a family anywhere.  I don’t have anyone who would miss me.  It’s been nice being here with you and your family.”

Johnny nodded again, “This is your home too, Bonner, yours and Jack’s.  I’ll make sure when the time comes…well, you know.  There won’t be an unmarked grave somewhere for either of you.”

Throughout the trip from Yuma, he kept thinking about that promise.  There was no way he would break it.  If Jack had died, Johnny would have made sure his friend was taken back to Lancer.

He closed his eyes, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  Jack Slade was alive, and he would do everything in his power to keep it that way.

Suddenly, Johnny felt ashamed of himself for even thinking of not going back.  If someone who wasn’t blood family could love Lancer enough to want to be buried there, then what was wrong with him? 

Turning to the door, Johnny and Val walked back outside.  Jess Bonner was standing on the front porch. 

Val looked around the yard again at the gunfighters watching them.  “How did they all get here?”

Jess smiled.  “We keep in touch.  When I knew Jack was safe here with Joe and Molly, I sent a telegram to Stewart in El Paso.  He took care of the rest.  The fellows have been drifting in one or two at a time for the last week.”

Johnny cocked his head with an unspoken ‘why.’

“Word got out in Nogales that Jack was here and shot up.  I didn’t think it was fair to Joe and Molly and their men to have to try to keep him safe.  So, I sent for men I knew I could trust.”

Johnny nodded his understanding.  He felt the same way about these men. 

Val looked at all the faces, noticing that one was missing.  “Where’s Gammon?”

The men lowered their heads, finding interest in the toes of their boots. Will Hayes moved closer to answer, “Marty caught a bullet last month over in Texas.  He got hired to guard a payroll for one of the big cattle ranches.  There was a hold up and well…”

“Where’s he buried?” Johnny asked, thinking of Lancer again. 

“He had a piece of paper in his pocket with the information on who to wire if he died.  His folks own a small ranch outside Amarillo.  They came and got him.”  

Johnny slowly nodded.  It was part of the game.  There were no guarantees that a gunfighter would see the next sunrise.   At least Marty Gammon wouldn’t end up in a lonely grave, in some piss-ant town in Texas, with no one to mourn him.

Val saw that the news had hit Johnny hard.  Changing the subject, he quickly asked Bonner, “What happened with Jack?”

Jess scuffed the toe of his boot on the porch and took a deep breath.  There was a lot to tell.

Molly walked onto the porch and motioned for them to come inside.  “Jess can tell you while you eat.”

Molly bustled around the kitchen, serving the meal as Jess Bonner recounted what had happened a little over two weeks ago. “You see, we were up in Tucson,” he began.

---

Tucson, as usual, was dry and dusty in mid-July.  The monsoon season hadn’t started yet, so there was little chance of rain until later in the month.

Jack Slade, dressed in his signature black shirt and pants, with his gun slung low on his right hip, stood outside the Congress Hall Saloon.  The six-foot-two-inch gunfighter watched as heavily loaded freight wagons rolled up and down the busy street.  Some of the wagons carried mining equipment, while others transported billiard tables, mirrors, glassware, and a wide variety of alcohol to Tucson’s ever-growing number of saloons.

Jack reflected on how Tucson had changed over the past two years, with new mines opening and more Americans moving into the area; the town was at least three times larger than it had been when he last passed through.

As the stage from Prescott rumbled down the street, it kicked up a swirling cloud of dust that enveloped him.  Jack flicked his cheroot aside, the ember glowing briefly before dying out in the dirt, and grimaced as he spat out the gritty remnants clinging to his tongue.  He quickly wiped his face and brushed the particles from his mustache, then dusted off the front of his black shirt.  He’d had enough of Tucson.

Jack looked over his shoulder and saw Jess Bonner coming out of the saloon.  “You ready to go?”

Jess looked up, surprised by the tone of Jack’s voice.  “Something got you in a pucker?”

“Everything.  We’ve been looking for Farley Campbell ever since we got Val’s telegram, and I’m tired of Tucson.  There are too many people for me to keep track of.”

“You want to stay another day?  We’ve asked around about Campbell everywhere except in those new saloons on the other end of town.”

Jack shook his head.  “No.  Let’s head for Nogales.  Better yet, let’s go see Joe and Molly.”

Jess smiled.  He liked the Worthingtons’, and he especially liked Molly’s cooking.  “Alright.  I’ll get the horses.  You go over to the hotel and get our gear.”

Jack nodded, then looked down the street for any sign of trouble.  He didn’t see anything, but he still felt uneasy.  He’d had this feeling since yesterday, when he was at the small cantina on the north end of town.  It was as if he were being watched.

Stepping off the boardwalk, he crossed the street to the newly built Arizona Inn.  He took the stairs two at a time and walked down the hall to room 6 at the front of the building.  Once inside, he quickly packed his saddlebags and Bonner’s.  As he passed the window, he glanced outside and saw a man standing across the street in front of the mercantile.

Jack turned back to the bed to pick up their saddlebags and rifles.  When he looked out the window again, the man was gone.  Once again, Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.  He didn’t know who the man was, but his instincts told him the man was trouble.

Stopping at the front desk, Jack dropped the key on the counter.  “We’re checking out.”

The man behind the counter smiled, and Jack saw him heave a sigh of relief.  “I hope your stay was satisfactory, Mr. Slade.”

“It was.  Nice room,” Jack said and meant it.  It wasn’t often he got a clean room with clean sheets.  

Giving the clerk a nod, he strode out the front door.

Bonner was waiting for him, horses saddled and canteens filled.  Jack noticed that Bonner had added an extra canteen to both of their saddle horns. 

Jack tossed Bonner his saddlebags and handed him his rifle.  As he started tying the saddlebags onto his horse, he felt that uneasy feeling again.  He licked his lips and looked around.

“Something wrong?” Bonner looked up and down the street.

“I don’t know.  Maybe I’m getting old, and seeing things that ain’t there, but…”  He sighed and shrugged.  “Come on.  Let’s ride.”

The main trail running south from Tucson to Nogales was well-traveled and made for an easy ride.  Along the way, they met several other riders and wagons heading north.  Each time they passed someone, Jack would pull his hat down over his eyes and ignore the passerby, while Jess took on the duty of smiling and tipping his hat.

As the day heated up, the two men decided it was time to find some shade, rest for a couple of hours out of the sun, and give the horses a break. 

“How far do you think it is to the ranch?” Bonner unscrewed the top of one of the canteens, took a long drink of the lukewarm water, and handed it to Jack.

Jack accepted the canteen and pushed his hat off his forehead.  Looking around, he guessed where they were.  “We’re making good time.  If we keep pushing on, we can make it by nightfall.  Depends on the horses.  If we have to camp out, we’ll be there sometime in the morning.”

Jess nodded.  “Sound about right.  I sure would like to sit down to one of Molly’s dinners tonight, though.”

Jack smiled.  “That woman has you spoiled.  You and Madrid.  I swear she has a soft spot for young dark-haired boys.”

Jess laughed.  “You’re just jealous ‘cause she always gives me and Johnny extra chicken.”

They were quiet for a moment. 

“You think he’s alright?” Jess said.  “Johnny.  You think he’s alright?”

“Val didn’t say anything different in his last telegram, and we haven’t heard anything about Madrid getting himself killed.  News like that would spread like wildfire.   My guess is he’s alright.”

“I wonder how Murdoch and Scott are doing?”

This was a conversation they had many times over the past three months, rehashing the limited information they had about Scott’s condition.  They understood that if something happened to Scott, there would be nowhere in the world for Campbell to hide from Madrid.

An hour later, the horses were watered and rested, and they mounted up.  As they got back on the trail, Jack turned in the saddle and looked behind them. 

“You still have that feeling?”

“Yeah.  Like we’re being followed.”

“Near or far?”

“Not sure.”  Jack turned to look ahead.  “Let’s make some time.  I’ll feel better if we get to Joe and Molly’s tonight.”

“Then tonight, it is.”

They rode at a good pace for another hour and then slowed.  They kept to the routine through the afternoon. 

It was late afternoon when Jess slowed to a stop.  “The horses need another break.”

“Fine by me.  I wouldn’t mind one either.” Jack looked around.  “We need to head east here anyway.  It looks like we’ll get to the ranch just after dark.” Smiling at Bonner, he added, “Don’t worry, I’m sure Molly will have something for you to eat.”

Jess began to loosen the cinch on his horse, but Jack stopped him.  “No, leave him cinched.  Just give him a little water.”

Not doubting the older gunfighter’s instincts, Jess did as he was told. 

When it was time to leave, Jack scanned the area one more time.  He was nearly ready to mount when he noticed movement in the rocks behind them. 

“Bonner, mount up and ride!” 

Jess Bonner threw himself into the saddle.  He’d ridden with Jack Slade long enough to know not to ask questions.

They had only taken a few steps when a shot rang out. 

Jess glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Jack pitching forward over his horse’s neck and sliding to the ground.  He spun around, gun drawn, and headed back.

Jumping from his horse, Jess knelt beside Jack.  He placed a hand on his friend’s bloody back and sighed with relief when he felt Jack breathe.

Off in the distance, Jess heard a horse coming their way.  The man on it stayed out of pistol range as he yelled with a laugh, “Tell Madrid.  Next time, it’ll be him, and next time I’ll put a bullet in his damn heart.”

As the man rode away, Jess Bonner knew he was looking at Farley Campbell, but now wasn’t the time to chase after him.

Going back to Jack, Jess closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He needed to think.  The first thing he had to do was stop the bleeding, if he could.  Running to his horse, he grabbed a spare shirt and tore it into strips.  He packed the wound and wrapped the bandage as tightly as possible. 

Jess leaned back and looked at Jack’s pale face.  Suddenly, the man’s eyes opened.  “Jack.  Can you hear me?”

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Pouring water on a clean piece of cloth, Jess wiped Jack’s dry lips and let a few drops go into his mouth.

“Thanks,” Jack coughed.  “Who?”

“Campbell…I think.  He said to tell Madrid he’d put a bullet in his heart.”

“Jess…” Jack grabbed Bonner’s hand.  “Jess, know what you gotta do.  Leave me here and go to Joe and Molly’s for help.”

“I’m not leaving you.  First, I don’t know if Campbell won’t come back to make sure you’re dead, and second, I’d probably get lost trying to find my way back to you.  No, we’ll ride double,” he said, glancing across the desert.  “We should only be an hour or two from their ranch.  We might run into some of their men.”

“Dreamer.” He grimaced, fighting the pain.  “With you hanging onto me, we won’t make it five miles.  Your best bet is to hide me and—”

“No!  Damn it, Slade, I’m not leaving you.”

Jack shut his eyes and swallowed hard.  “Then you’d better tie me to my saddle.”

“Can you stand?”

Jack shook his head.  “No.” 

“Then come on.”  Jess reached down to put an arm around Slade, only to be stopped.

“Jess, remember what Johnny promised—I mean, about Lancer.  You’ll make sure…”

“Shut up.  You ain’t dying on me.”

“Jess, you promise?”

“Yes.  I promise.  Now, come on.”

He wrapped his arms around Jack and hoisted him with a grunt.  It wasn’t easy, but he finally got him onto his horse and, following Jack’s advice, tied him to the saddle.  After mounting himself, he took the reins of Jack’s horse and began a slow walk.

One hour stretched into two, and Jack was slumped forward over his horse’s neck by the time Jess realized it was time to stop.  He wasn’t sure exactly where he was or how far from the Worthington ranch, but he knew he wouldn’t make it this way. 

He was about to stop when he saw three riders coming toward him.  There was no time to run or hide, especially with Jack’s life in danger.  He drew his gun, ready to protect his friend, when he recognized one of the men from the ranch.

While one of the men went for a buckboard, Jess helped Jack onto the ground.   His friend was barely breathing, and the wound was bleeding again.

Jess looked up at the two men who had stayed with him.  “Can one of you go for Doc Lawson and have him meet us at the ranch?”

With a quick wave, one of them headed toward Nogales.

An hour later, the wagon arrived with Joe riding alongside.  Two hours after that, it rolled into Rancho Worthington, where Molly and Ben Lawson waited. 

That night was the worst when the ague began.  When Jack’s fever spiked and chills took over, all they could do was try to cool him down.

Jess knew he needed more help than Joe could give, so the next morning he rode into Nogales.  He went straight to the telegraph office and sent two telegrams—one to Val and another to Clint Stewart in El Paso.

Over the next week, Jack drifted in and out of consciousness, barely hanging on at times.  By the end of that week, Doctor Lawson announced that he was out of danger.

---

When Bonner finished, Johnny sat with his arms on the table, staring at his half-eaten meal. His voice was soft and low.  “You’re sure it was Campbell?”

Bonner hesitated, and Val could tell he was scared to answer.  “Spit it out.”

Jess swallowed and took a breath, “Had to be from what he said before he rode off.  He was laughing and said, “Tell Madrid.  Next time, it’ll be him, and next time I’ll put a bullet in his damn heart.”

Johnny pushed back and stood.  “I’m going to go sit with Slade for a while.”

Val and Jess watched him go, neither knowing what to say.

Johnny sat in the chair next to Jack’s bed, watching him sleep.  Relaxing and stretching out his legs, he took a deep breath.  There was a lot to think about.

He looked again at the wounded man and shook his head.  Guilt ate at him.  Another person he cared about was hurt because of him.  It felt as if he was cursed—one that he knew would never be lifted.

Trying to shake the thoughts, his mind drifted to Murdoch and Scott.  He tried to remember their faces, the way it felt to have a family, and the moments they’d shared.  He wondered how they were doing—what they were doing, other than worrying about him. 

There was a faint rustling of sheets, and Johnny watched as Jack’s head turned and he slowly woke up.  When the light blue eyes locked onto him, there was a moment of surprise, followed by recognition and disbelief.   “Madrid?”  

Jack realized what he’d said and opened his mouth to say more, but pain shot through his upper back.  When he finally regained control, he took a breath and smiled.  “Johnny.”

Johnny returned the smile.  “Jack.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Seems you got yourself into a bit of a fix.  Bonner sent a telegram to Val.”

“Where’d Val catch up with you?”

“Yuma.”

Jack smiled.  “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too.  Looks like you had a lot of people around here worried about you.”

“Imagine that,” Jack said with a slight laugh.  “People worried about Jack Slade.”

“That surprises you?  It shouldn’t.  You’ve got a lot of friends who care about you.  Including me.”

Jack’s eyes stayed on Johnny.  The truth was in the boy’s eyes.  “I know and I appreciate it.”

“Bonner called in the other fellows, too.”

“You mean to protect me?”

“Leaves a funny taste in your mouth, don’t it?”  Johnny grinned.  “Remember when Murdoch hired you to protect me?”

“I do.  I also remember what you said back then.  ‘How would you feel if someone hired me to protect you?’   Now, I know how it feels.”

Johnny laughed.  “The difference now is that no one hired me.  Jack, you’ve had my back more than once over the last two years.  Just consider it turnabout.”

The door behind Johnny opened, and Molly stepped in.  “I see he’s awake.”

“He is,” Johnny answered. 

“Well, then, you young man, go take a bath and shave that beard off.  I’ll get Jack something to eat.  You two can talk more later.”

Johnny stood up and stretched.  He was sore, and a bath sounded like a good idea.  “I’ll be back later.”  He started to leave, but then turned back.  “You need help with anything?”

Jack laughed.  “I do, but Bonner will be here in a minute.  It’s embarrassing enough having him and Molly fussing over me.”

“Like the way Val and Scott took care of me in Mexico and on the way home?”

Johnny stepped out and closed the door behind him.  As he moved through the living room to the kitchen, he realized no one was in the house.  Looking out the kitchen window, he saw that the sun was beginning to set and guessed everyone was outside, enjoying the cool evening air.

He pushed open the screen door to the front porch and saw Val and Joe sitting in the rockers on the wide porch.  They stopped talking when he came out. 

Johnny noticed right away that Val was wearing a clean shirt.  “You clean up good.”

“There’s a bath waiting for you in the barn.  Our gear is in the second stall.”

As Johnny scanned the yard, his eyes landed on a flickering campfire tucked off to the side.  The smell of smoke mixed into the cool evening air.  The gunfighters who had come to protect one of their own were relaxing around it, their faces lit up by the fire’s glow. 

Johnny felt an overwhelming longing to be with them again, just like he did during the trip back to Lancer.  Sensing his thoughts, Val playfully kicked him in the rear and said, “Hurry up, before the water gets too cold!”

As Johnny headed for the barn, he saw Bonner walking toward the house.  “He awake?”

“Yeah, he’s waiting for you.” 

Bonner smiled as he walked by.

When Johnny stepped out of the barn, clean and freshly shaved, he was greeted by the sound of music.  He paused and looked around.  Only Joe and Molly were on the porch now.  Near the fire, a few of the vaqueros were with the gunfighters, strumming their guitars and singing songs that brought back memories of his childhood in Mexico.

Seeing Val sitting by the fire listening to the music, Johnny walked across the yard and sat next to him. 

All too soon, the vaqueros began wandering off to the bunkhouse, leaving Val, Johnny, and the seven gunfighters.  Johnny looked toward the house to see that Joe and Molly had also gone to bed. 

The men were quiet as Hayes threw another log on the fire and then leaned back.   All their eyes turned to look at Johnny.  It was Roy Williams who spoke first, “How are Murdoch and Scott?”

Johnny glanced at Val.  “You’ve seen them since I have.”

“And whose fault is that?”  Val raised a hand.  “Alright, I know, you’ve been a tad busy.”  He looked around the campfire.  “Murdoch took a bullet in the chest.  It took him a while, but he got back on his feet pretty quick.  Scott was hurt worse.  Sam didn’t think he was gonna walk again.  Damn horse rolled on him.”

Johnny flinched at the memory of his brother lying in the road.

“He’s better now?” Dave Bryant asked.

“He got the feeling back in his legs when the swelling in his back went down.  Still had a broken leg, though, and it took a few weeks before they could get him up and walking.  When I left, he was still working at it.”

“Scott’s a good man,” Bill Martin said, and heads nodded in agreement.

Clint Stewart looked at Johnny.  “Bonner says you got three of them.   There’s only Campbell left?”

“That’s right, just him.”

“Johnny, is he the one who shot Slade?”

“That’s what Bonner said.”

Jim Lambert straightened up.  “That means he’s in Arizona.  You know, we could spread out across the territory and find the son of a bitch.”

Johnny shook his head.  “No.  No one else is getting hurt because of me.  He finds out you’re helping me, you might as well put a target on your back.”

Bonner snorted, “That’s the only way he can take a man…in the back.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find him.  Right now, we have Slade to worry about.”  Johnny looked at Bonner.  “You said word got out that Jack was here.   You’ve had trouble?” 

Bonner shook his head.  “Not really.  There were gunhawks in Nogales talking big at the cantina, but a few of us went into town and scared them off.”

Roy Williams laughed.  “You should have seen those jackass’s faces when we told them to leave the territory.”

Val leaned forward, laughing.  “I take it they took your advice?”

The answer was a round of laughter around the campfire.

Will Hayes threw another log on the fire and looked at Johnny.  “How long you gonna be here, Johnny?”

Johnny leaned back to rest on his elbow.  “As long as Slade’s laid up.” 

Val’s head turned sharply.  He looked at Johnny with a frown.

“Then?” Hayes, seeing Val’s reaction, said hesitantly.

“Then I go after Campbell.  He’s not getting away from me.”

“And if he heads into Mexico?”

There was total silence around the campfire, waiting for Johnny’s reply. “I’ll deal with that when and if it happens.”    

As if sensing the tension in the air, Jess Bonner stood up and stretched.  “I’m heading for bed.” He looked toward the barn. “They start work early around here.”

“Me too.” Stewart stood.

“Where are all of you sleeping?” Val asked Stewart.

“Some of us are in the barn loft, a couple in the bunk house, and the rest of us either out here next to the fire or in one of the stalls in the barn.” 

“Joe has guards around the place?”

“He does, there are always a few, that’s why we get their bunks.  We take turns during the night, giving them a break.”

“Someone wake me when it’s time to take a shift.”

Dave Bryant looked at him, surprised.  “You’re sure?  This is your first night here.  Figured you’d want a good night’s sleep with more than one man watching your back.”

Stewart glanced at Val and quickly said, “That’s right.  You two should rest for a couple of days, then we’ll put you in the rotation.”

Knowing when he was outnumbered, Johnny nodded.  “All right.” 

The men went their separate ways, leaving only Val and Johnny by the fire. 

Johnny shifted so that he was facing Val.  “Alright, what’s wrong?”

“Whatta you mean?”

“You know what I mean.  I saw that look you gave me.”

“Tell me something.  You were quick enough to leave Lancer with your family still laid up, but now you have to stay here to protect Slade.  Hell, there are seven professional gunhawks here who can protect Slade,” Val’s voice rose loud enough for anyone close enough to hear.

“You’re within a hair’s breadth of finding Campbell, but you’re not going anywhere until Slade’s back on his feet?   I don’t understand.  Explain it to me.”

“I can’t.  All I know is that I have to stay here to make sure he’s alright—that he’s back on his feet and can protect himself.”

“And seven other men aren’t enough to do that, or is it just an excuse to stay away from Lancer longer?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Alright, we’ll stay until you’re ready to move on, but don’t think I believe we’re staying here just to protect Jack Slade.  Sooner or later, you’re gonna have to face the fact that you have a decision to make.”

“What decision?”

“Johnny Madrid or Johnny Lancer.  They live in two different worlds, and one day you’re gonna have to decide which you really want to be.”

“Val— “

Val held up a hand.  “Look, I’m tired, and I need sleep.  We’ll talk about this again later.”

Val and Johnny stood and walked toward the barn.  They noticed Lambert and Williams edging their way back to the fire and rolling out their bedrolls. 

Soon, only the sounds of the night filled the air.

Inside the barn, Johnny tossed his bedroll down, unbuckled his gun belt, and removed his boots. 

As Johnny stretched out, Val joined him.  “You alright?”

Johnny covered his eyes with an arm, blocking the lamp light, and took a deep breath; the aroma of fresh straw mixed with the familiar scents of the barn filled his nostrils.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Nothing.  Go to sleep.  We’ve got enough men around us that we can trust that I don’t figure we have much to worry about tonight.”

Johnny turned onto his side.  “Papi, I trust every one of these men with my life, but that don’t stop me from sleeping with one ear open and my gun in my hand.  There are more men on the ranch besides just the gunhawks.”

“You think one of Joe’s men would try anything?”

“Someone let the word out that Slade was here and shot up.  Don’t figure it was Joe or Molly, or the Doc.”

Val turned out the light and lay down.  He took his gun out of its holster and laid it next to his side.   He’d have a talk with Bonner in the morning.

---

The next morning, Val and Johnny woke up to the sound of a rooster crowing and men walking into the barn to get their horses.  In the loft above, they could see that the men sleeping there were starting to stir as dust motes and straw drifted through the wooden slats onto them.

“What time is it?” Val pulled a blanket over his head.

“I guess it’s time to get up.”

The rooster crowed again, and Val snorted.  “He keeps that up, and I’m gonna make sure we have him for dinner.”

“Reminds me of the one we used to have at Lancer.”

Val tossed the blanket back.  “I don’t ever remember hearing a rooster there.”

Johnny laughed.  “Before your time.  He went missing one day.  Teresa never figured out where he went.”

“And where did he go?”

“The boys in the bunkhouse had chicken stew that night.”

Val laughed.  “You think Molly would shoot us?”

“Probably.”  Johnny stood up and brushed off his clothes.  “Let’s go see if she has some coffee.”

Outside, the ranch was in motion.  As vaqueros were coming from the bunkhouse, gunfighters were gathering in the yard, and Molly stood on the porch with a large pot of coffee in her hand.   The ranch cook began ringing a bell and calling out, “Come and get it.”

“Val, you and Johnny, come inside.  There’s room at the table,” Molly’s voice carried over the noise.

Val nodded.  “You got room for Bonner?”

Molly gave him a questioning look before replying, “Of course.  Jess…” She nodded toward Bonner.  “Jess, you come inside, too.”

Jess was heading to eat with the other men, then he changed direction.

Inside, Molly waved them to their seats.  Joe, already seated, moved his chair to make room for everyone.  As soon as she’d served a platter of fried eggs, bacon, and biscuits, she sat down and looked around the table.  Noticing Johnny’s shaved face, she smiled, but didn’t say anything.

As they ate, Johnny looked at the open front door and stood up.  Everyone stopped eating to watch him close it before coming back to the table.

Joe lifted his coffee cup and took a sip.  “Something wrong, Johnny?”

Johnny looked around the table.  “Joe, do you have any new men working for you?”

Joe leaned back.  “Maybe a couple.  Why?”

“How long have they been working for you?”

“A few months.”  Joe put his arms on the table.  “What’s this about?”

Val spoke up, “Bonner said word got out that Slade was here.”

“You think one of my men let it slip?  It wasn’t something we even considered a secret when we first brought him here.”

“Joe, with Johnny here, you’ve got two top guns to worry about,” Val said.  “If it was one of your men who spread the word about Slade, they could do the same about Madrid.  Maybe you need to have a talk about it with them.”

“Oh, Val, you don’t believe…,” she hesitated, then quickly looked at Johnny.  “Of course, Joe will talk to them.  I don’t want anything to happen to either Johnny or Jack.”

“I’ll handle it this morning,” Joe reassured them before picking up his fork and taking another bite.  “We can’t do anything about Jack, but damn it, I’ll make sure no one knows Johnny is here.”

“We appreciate that, Joe,” Val said. 

A noise came from Jack’s room, and Molly looked at Jess.

“I’ll take care of him.”  Bonner wiped his mouth and stood.  “That was really good, Molly.  Thank you.”

She smiled at him and started clearing the table.

Johnny stepped outside, leaving Val talking to Joe.  Noticing Clint Steward near the corral, he headed over to him.

“Morning, Johnny.”               

“Morning.”  He looked around the yard.  “What do you all do during the day?”

Clint leaned against the corral, holding a piece of straw between his teeth.  “We split up and lend a hand around the ranch—some go out on the range; some help with the chores near the ranch house.   We make sure there are always three or four of us watching Jack.  Bonner stays close.  Seems he’s the only one Jack will let help him out with…well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.  So, other than the men in town looking for Slade, have you had any other trouble?”

Clint shook his head.  “None.”

Johnny rested his boot on the bottom rail of the corral and lowered his voice.  “Any trouble with Joe’s men?”

Clint straightened up.  “No.  You worried about something?”

“Damn, Stewart, I’m always worried about something,” Johnny laughed.

Val walked out of the house, straightened his hat, and then headed to the corral.  “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, Val.  We were just talking about what the men do during the day.”

Val glanced at Stewart. 

“Like I told Johnny, we help out where we can and still keep an eye on Slade.”

“Well, I’m heading into town.  I need to send a telegram to Murdoch, and I thought I’d pick up some supplies for Molly.  It can’t be cheap feeding all of you.”

“We offered to pay, but you know Joe and Molly.  They refused to take money, so we decided to work.”

Johnny shook his head.  “That’s gonna end.  Stewart, go ask Molly what she needs in the way of supplies.” He looked around, seeing Will Hayes standing nearby.  “Hayes.”

“Johnny?”

“Val’s going into town for supplies.  See if the cook needs anything.”

“Will do.  Val, do you want a few of us to go with you?”

Val looked at him thoughtfully.  “Maybe a couple just to help with what I end up buying.”

When it was just the two of them, Johnny turned to Val.  “That telegram you’re gonna send.  Tell them…” Johnny heaved a sigh.  “Hell, I don’t know what to tell them.”

“Looks like we’re gonna be here for a few weeks until Slade is back on his feet.  More than that, I don’t know what to say.  Maybe you should sit down and write them a letter.  You know, put pen to paper.”

“You know I’m not good at writing.  I never know what to say.”

“This time, I think you need to tell them something.” Val kicked a rock with the tip of his boot and watched it skip across the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust as it went.  “Damn it, Johnny.  They deserve better than to sit and worry about you.”   

“I know.  I’ll write them today.  You or one of the boys can take it into town tomorrow to mail.  Right now, I’m gonna go check on Barranca.”

Val watched Johnny disappear into the dark barn.  Turning around, he looked out over the arid Arizona landscape.  He would be happy when they headed back to California.  To be honest, he missed Green River and his job. 

Even more, he missed the people at Lancer.  Missed all of it—Maria’s cooking, Teresa’s chatter over the dinner table, listening to Scott and Johnny’s brotherly banter.  Val smiled at the thought of the times he and Murdoch sat in the garden or on the front portico, sipping a drink and talking.

As a warm morning breeze drifted through the yard, Val’s thoughts turned to Johnny.  He desperately hoped the boy would come to realize that Lancer is where he truly belonged, surrounded by those who cared for him, not here and not being Johnny Madrid.

---

Walt drove the supply wagon, loaded with rolls of barbed wire and nails, into the yard.  There was a smile on his face when he saw Tate coming out to meet him.  “Got the mail.”

“Anything from Johnny?”

Walt shook his head.  “Frank Jeffers at the telegraph office said it was from Val.”

Tate was reaching for the bundle of mail, and his hand stopped midway.  “Did he say—”

“Now, you know he wasn’t gonna tell me what was in it, but he was smiling when he handed it to me.  So, it’s not bad news.”

Larry Tate exhaled the breath he was holding and took the mail.  “Thanks.”

Smiling, Tate strolled slowly back into the house, sorting through the newspapers and letters.  He placed the telegram on top of the others.  They hadn’t heard from Val since he and Johnny left Yuma.  He knew the whole family would be excited about any news and hoped Val would mention Johnny.

It had been hard for Larry to stay behind when Johnny left.  He felt as if he should be with Johnny, no matter where he was.  Yes, he now had Teresa to worry about, but he’d spent three years of his life as a gunfighter.  There were nights, late at night, when he wondered if the pull to return to the game would ever fade. 

Taking longer strides, he opened the front door and stepped inside.  He met Murdoch coming out of the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee.  “Mail’s here.”

Murdoch smiled.  “Good.  Did Walt say he had any trouble in town?”

“No trouble.”  Larry handed over the stack of mail.  Murdoch held the cup in one hand, pressed the mail against his chest with the other, and headed for his desk.  Watching the balancing act, Larry added, “There’s a telegram on top.”

Surprised, Murdoch almost dropped everything.  He dumped the mail on his desk, watching it fan out over the top, set the cup down, then quickly searched for the telegram.

Tate laughed, “It was on top.”

Murdoch finally found what he was searching for and tore the envelope open.  As he read, his face lit up.  He looked up at Larry and nodded.  “Here, read it for yourself.”

.

Murdoch Lancer
Green River, California

Arrived at ranch.  STOP.  JS hurt, but getting better.  STOP.  Staying until JS is back on his feet.  STOP.  JL promises to write.  STOP.

Val

.

Larry reread the telegram and sighed.  “So, Jack was hurt.  We figured that out from the telegram Bonner sent to Val.”

“But Val says he’s doing better.”  Murdoch slammed his fist on the desk.  “Damn, there just isn’t enough information in those few words.  What happened?  How is Johnny doing?  He says he’s staying until Jack is back on his feet, but does that mean Johnny’s not coming home?”

“Murdoch, Val can only say so much.  He did say Johnny would write.”

Murdoch snorted.  “That boy doesn’t know how to write a letter.”

“Who doesn’t know how to write a letter?”

Murdoch looked up to see Scott entering the room, leaning heavily on his old cane.

“Your brother.  There’s a telegram from Val, but it only says that Jack was hurt and is getting better.  You’d better read it yourself.”

Scott shuffled over to the chair in front of Murdoch’s desk and lowered himself into it.  His leg was no longer in a cast, but bending it still caused him pain.  The longer he stood, the more it hurt.

Larry handed the telegram to Scott and waited.  

“So,” Scott said, “Jack was hurt and Val is staying until he is back on his feet.  So, is Johnny still with him?”

“I presume he is, as Val says, Johnny is supposed to write us.”

Scott laughed.  “You’re right.  I don’t think Johnny has ever written a letter to anyone.  I wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t have to wait until Val gets back to find out what’s happened.”

Murdoch rubbed his chin and thought for a moment.  “I wonder if Joshua Barnes has heard from Joe and Molly.  If he has, maybe he knows more about what’s going on.”

“That’s a good idea.” Scott leaned forward.  “What do you say we ride into town tomorrow and talk to him?  I need to get out of the house.”

Murdoch shook his head.  “That’s not going to happen, young man.  Sam hasn’t said you can go anywhere yet.  I’ve got a better idea.  Why don’t I send Joshua an invitation to come for dinner tomorrow night?  Sam is supposed to be here to check on you so they can ride out together.”  

Scott heaved a sigh.  “Good idea, but I still need to get out of the house.  What do you say to a compromise?”

“Compromise?”

“The front portico and a glass of lemonade.”

Murdoch smiled.  “Deal.” 

---

The moment the buggy carrying Sam Jenkins and Reverend Joshua Barnes pulled up outside the Lancer hacienda, the French doors opened, and Murdoch strode out.   “Welcome to Lancer, Reverend.”

Barnes jumped down from the buggy, and his eyes looked up at the tall rancher who stood a good six inches taller than he was.  “Mr. Lancer, it’s good to see you, but please, we’ve had this discussion.  The name is Joshua.  Our families have too much in common to be otherwise.”

Murdoch nodded.  “Yes, we do, and it’s Murdoch.”

The two men shook hands, and Murdoch ushered Joshua and Sam into the house, where Teresa and Larry were waiting.

Joshua stopped in front of Teresa and reached out with both hands to take hers.  “Teresa, you’re looking prettier than ever.  Married life does suit you.”   Then, turning, he extended a hand to Larry.  “And it appears it suits you as well.”

Beaming, Larry wrapped an arm around Teresa’s waist.  “Thank you, Reverend.” 

“Joshua.”

Larry smiled.  “Joshua.”

Seeing Sam, Teresa stepped away from Larry.  “Sam, would you mind checking on Scott before dinner?  He won’t admit it, but I believe his leg is hurting worse than he’s letting on.”

“Is he in his room?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I’ll go now.” Sam picked up his bag and turned to go back outside.  “Pour me a drink.  I’ll be right back.”

Once outside, Sam turned right and went into the courtyard next to the house, where Scott’s new room.  He had been moved to one of the ground-floor rooms off the courtyard after being given more freedom to move around the house.  Everyone, including Scott, thought the room was perfect for him.  It was away from the noise of the main house, and he could easily come and go without needing to navigate the stairs.

Sam knocked on the door and heard a faint, “Come.”

Sam pushed open the heavy door and found Scott sitting on the edge of the bed, only half dressed, with his left leg outstretched in front of him.  

“Do you need help?”

Scott shook his head.  “I’ll get it done; it just takes a little longer than it used to.”  Scott rubbed the thigh of his left leg.

“Are you still experiencing a lot of pain?”

Scott lowered his head and sighed.  Knowing it would do no good to deny it, he said, “Yes.”

“Let me take a look.”  

Sam removed his suit coat and draped it over the foot of the bed, then leaned forward to examine the leg.  It was still swollen, as he expected.  “Can you bend it?”

Scott tried to flex his leg, but grimaced when he couldn’t bend his knee.   “I’m getting tired of it hurting all the time, Sam.”

“I imagine so.”  Sam ran his hand over the area where the break had been and pressed down.  “Does that hurt?”

Scott flinched.  “A little.”

“The break has healed, and it feels as if the bone has knitted back together properly.  However, your leg was kept straight for almost three months, and your muscles need to be retrained.  It’s going to take some time.”

“So, you’re saying I need to be patient?”

Sam smiled.  “Yes, but you want something to ease the pain.  Scott, you were on some strong medicine for a long while.  I don’t feel comfortable giving you laudanum.  Are you drinking the white willow bark tea Teresa is fixing for you?”

“Sam, I’m so tired of that tea, I could… Let’s just say she keeps me well supplied.”

“I see.  Is it helping?”

“Sometimes, but there is a constant ache.”

“I’ll talk to Maria about arranging hot soaks three times a day and recommend peppermint and lavender oil to massage into the leg.  That should help.  Also, you will need to bend that knee more.”

“I try, but …”

“I know it hurts.  If you’re ever going to get full use of that leg again, you’re going to have to work at it.”

Scott let out a heavy sigh. 

“Right now, though…” he thought for a moment.  “I’ll give you two drops of laudanum in water to get you through the evening, but it’s the last time.   Becoming dependent on the drug would be worse for you in the long run.”     

“I don’t want that to happen, Sam.  I saw too much of it during the war.  I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me… for all of us.”   

Sam stood up and reached for a glass on the nightstand.  He poured water into it and then added two drops of laudanum.   “Drink this.  Then get dressed and join the rest of us.  Joshua Barnes came with me.  You wouldn’t know why he was invited, would you?”

“I do, but I’ll let Murdoch explain.”

“Alright.  I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Scott watched the door close and then lay back on the bed.  Closing his eyes, he tried to distract himself from his leg.  Soon, the pain eased, and he was tempted to stay there and sleep, but he knew that wasn’t an option.

Twenty minutes later, Scott appeared in the Great Room, smiling, and, while walking with his cane, seemed relaxed.

Joshua Barnes stood as Scott entered the room.  “Scott.  You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”

“Josh, it’s good of you to come.”  The two young men shook hands.  “Yes, I’m on the mend, but,” he tapped his boot with his cane, “I still have a ways to go.”

Murdoch glanced at Sam and saw a smile on his old friend’s face.  He didn’t ask questions, but would find out later what he and Scott had talked about.

Teresa entered from the kitchen with a large tray and placed it on the table. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Gentlemen,” Murdoch said, waving a hand toward the table.

Murdoch sat in his usual chair at the head of the dining room table.  To his right were Joshua and Sam, while Larry and Teresa sat on his left.  Scott was at the opposite end of the table so that he could stretch out his leg.

Murdoch waited as Maria set the rest of the meal down in front of them, then turned to Joshua.  “Would you say grace?”

Joshua smiled and quickly offered the prayer, ending with, “And please watch over those who are not with us tonight.  Bring them home safely and soon.”

A loud and sincere “Amen” resonated around the table.

As the meal started, Joshua looked up from his plate and saw Murdoch glancing at him.  “Murdoch, I was glad to get the invitation for dinner, but you know it wasn’t necessary.  Although I am delighted to be here, I don’t get meals as good as Maria’s very often.”

Murdoch looked confused.

“I received a letter from Mother in yesterday’s mail.” Everyone stopped and put their forks down, waiting for more to come.  “She mailed it a little over two weeks ago.  It got here so fast because she sent it express mail.”

Teresa reached across the table to touch his hand.  “Josh, did she say anything about Johnny?”

“Not Johnny,” he shook his head, “but she…well, let me start from the beginning.”  He wiped his mouth with a napkin and took a sip of wine.  “Mother says that the night before she mailed the letter, a few of their vaqueros found Jess Bonner and Jack Slade in the desert west of the ranch.  Jack had been shot in the back and was barely alive.  From what Jess told her, they were ambushed earlier in the day, and Jess was trying to get Jack to the ranch.”

He watched as Teresa took Larry’s hand.

“They sent a man for Doctor Lawson.  He was able to remove the bullet, but… she said she…she said she didn’t know if Jack would make it.”

“What about Jess?  Was he alright?” Tate said.

“She said Jess was fine.  She did say he was sending a telegram to Val.  Of course, we all know Val got it and left immediately.”

Scott leaned forward.  “Josh, did Molly say who shot Jack?”

“She said she heard Jess mention the name Campbell.”

“Damn, that man.”  Murdoch tossed his napkin and began to stand, then remembered he had guests.  “I’m sorry, Josh.  It’s just that Farley Campbell seems to be touching everyone close to this family.”

“That’s all I know.  I’m sorry.” He shrugged.  “Of course, the letter was mailed over two weeks ago.  A lot could have happened since then.”

“Don’t be sorry.  In fact, we received a telegram from Val yesterday.  It seems Jack is still alive and doing better.  We just didn’t know what happened to him.  You’ve filled in those blanks for us.”

“And what about Johnny?”

“Val found him in Yuma.  They rode to the ranch together, and it looks like they’ll stay there until Jack is back on his feet.”

“And Campbell?  He’s one of the men Johnny went after?”

“Yes.  It looks like Johnny found everyone else.  Now, it’s just Campbell.”

“Don’t worry, Murdoch,” Tate stated firmly.  “Johnny will find Campbell, and Campbell knows it.  He just hammered the final nail in his coffin.”

The name Madrid was left unspoken, but everyone at the table knew that when Johnny Madrid set his sights on you, it was just a matter of time.    

---

As Jack grew stronger, Johnny decided to reduce the number of guards.  While he stayed with two men near the main house, the others rode out each morning to help Joe’s vaqueros.

Three weeks passed without any new threats from gunfighters hunting for Slade.  But that didn’t mean there weren’t other troubles to deal with. 

One day, while working in the barn, Johnny heard the sounds of horses and the clanking of metal against metal.  As he stepped into the bright sunlight, he saw Joe coming out of the house, while Stewart and Martin stood by the corral with their hands resting on their guns.

The sight of twenty mounted men in blue uniforms with yellow stripes on their pants was impressive.  The cavalry detachment, riding two abreast, halted in the middle of the yard. 

The commanding officer, a tall, straight-backed blonde with a thin mustache, pushed his hat back on his head and looked around. For a brief moment, his gaze fell on Johnny before shifting to Joe.

Joe walked out to stand in front of the troop.  “Lieutenant?”

“Are you Joe Worthington?”

“I am.”

“Mr. Worthington, I’m Lieutenant Baker, out of Fort Lowell.”

“Fort Lowell.  You’re a long way from home, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, Sir.  We are.”

“Step down, Lieutenant.  I’m sure your men could use some rest and water for their horses.”

“Thank you.” Baker turned in his saddle.  “Sergeant, dismount the men.  See that the horses are watered.”

As his men dismounted and led their horses to the troughs, Lieutenant Baker handed his horse to one of his men and moved over to Joe.

“Lieutenant, what brings you down this way?”

“The Apache have been raiding north and west of here.  They burned out a small ranch along the upper Santa Cruz River two days ago.”

Molly had joined her husband and overheard the last part of what Baker said.  “Oh, my Lord.  Those poor people.”

Baker tipped his hat.  “Ma’am.”

“Lieutenant, this is my wife, Molly Worthington.”

“Mrs. Worthington, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Lieutenant, were there any…?” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“No, ma’am.” He shook his head.  “No survivors.” 

Johnny noticed Molly’s distress and moved closer.  “Molly.”

Molly turned to Johnny.  “I’m alright.  The Lieutenant was telling us about a ranch that was burned out by the Apache a couple of days ago.”

“Which way are they headed?” Johnny asked.

Baker hesitated.  “East…this way.  Mister…?”

“Madrid.  Johnny Madrid,” Johnny replied without missing a beat.

Joe and Molly’s gazes flickered between Johnny and Baker, awaiting the moment of recognition they knew was coming. 

When that moment arrived, Baker nodded.  “I’ve heard of you, Mr. Madrid.”

“Most people in this part of the country have.  What were you saying about the Apache?  I thought there was a treaty with them.”

“There is.  Cochise and most of his people are on the reservation near Tucson in the Dragoon Mountains.  A few renegade bands didn’t want to stay on the reservation and broke away.  We’ve been tracking this group for nearly a month.”

Looking at Joe and Molly, Johnny said, “Must be the same band we ran across on our way here.”  Then to the Lieutenant.  “That was about four weeks ago, west of Nogales.”

“It’s possible.  They seem to cover a lot of territory.” 

“Lieutenant, I’m forgetting my manners,” Molly said.  “Won’t you come up on the porch and sit?  I have some cool lemonade, made fresh this morning.”

“Actually,” the Lieutenant smiled, “that sounds wonderful.”

Molly looked at Johnny.  “Would you like some?”

“No, thanks, Molly.  I need to finish up in the barn.  Stewart or Martin might like some, though.” 

Molly nodded, slightly confused, then remembered who was in one of her bedrooms.  Yes, Johnny would send at least one of the men in to make sure Jack wasn’t disturbed.  

While Johnny walked back to the barn, Molly hurried into the house to get the promised drinks.   When he got to the corral, Johnny stopped and turned slightly to watch Baker take a seat on the front porch.  

“What’s going on?” Martin asked.

“They’re looking for a band of Apache raiding in the area.”

“They headed this way?”

“Looks like it.”  His eyes scanned the area around the house.

“You think we need to let the others know?”

Johnny nodded.  “Martin, saddle up.  Find Val and let him know.  I sure don’t want any of them caught by surprise out there.”

“You can handle things here with Stewart?”

“Yeah.  I’ll go inside and let Slade know what’s going on.”

 Stewart stepped forward.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Why don’t you join Joe and the Lieutenant on the porch?  I think Molly has some lemonade for you.”

“Lemonade?”

“It’s good for you.  Besides, I need you on the front porch.”

Johnny entered the barn, then went out the back and circled around the house before coming in through the back door.  Molly was pouring four glasses of lemonade when he quietly stepped into the kitchen.

Surprised, Molly’s eyes flicked toward the front of the house and then at the bedroom door.  She didn’t say a word, only nodded.  She picked up the tray of glasses and moved toward the front door. 

Johnny eased into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

Jack was sitting on the side of the bed, his Colt in hand.  “What’s going on?”

“An army patrol rode in.”

“Trouble?”

“Could be.  Apache are raiding in the area.”

“The army gonna stay long?”

“Not sure.  Why?”

“’Cause, damn it, I need to go to the outhouse.”

Johnny laughed.  “You picked a hell of a time to have to go.”

“Didn’t pick it.  It picked me.”

“There’s a slop jar under the bed.”

Slade shook his head.  “I’ll hold it.”

Johnny looked back at the door and smiled.

“What?”

Johnny turned back to Jack.  “Nothing.  It’s just that the Lieutenant looks a lot like Scott, and in that uniform…I can pretty much imagine what he looked like when he was in the army.”

“Miss him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, he’s my best friend,” Johnny said, and he meant it.  A pang of longing shot through him as he thought about seeing his brother again.

---

On the front porch, Joe and the Lieutenant were talking when Molly came out with the tray. 

Baker accepted a glass and took a long drink before speaking, “I was surprised to see Madrid here.”

“Johnny’s a friend, Lieutenant.  He’s…visiting for a while.”

Baker’s eyes looked at the gun on Stewart’s hip.  “And you, sir?”

Steward picked up a glass.  “I’m a friend of Johnny’s, too.”

“I see.  And the man who rode out a few minutes ago.”

“You mean Martin.  He’s gone to see if he can find Joe’s men.  Let them know about the Apache.  And yes, he’s a friend, too.”

“Well, Mr. Worthington, I can see you have more than enough help in case of an attack.”  Finishing his drink, Baker set his glass down and stood.  “We’ll be going now.” 

“Where to?” Joe said.

“Nogales for supplies, then we’ll try to pick up the trail again.”

“Good luck, Lieutenant.  If you’re ever back this way, stop in.”

“We’ll do that, Mr. Worthington.”  He nodded towards Molly.  “Mrs. Worthington.”

Baker looked around the yard.  “I’d like to say goodbye to Mr. Madrid, but I don’t see him.”

Stewart took a sip of his drink.  “Oh, Johnny’s busy right now.  I’ll let him know you were thinking about him.”

Stepping off the porch, Baker went to his horse and took the reins from the soldier holding them.  Mounting up, he raised a hand and signaled the column to move out.

An hour after arriving, the patrol headed back the way they came.

That night, Johnny and Val met with the other gunfighters to devise a plan to secure the ranch and, at the same time, keep Slade safe. 

“We’ve got more to worry about now than just Slade and the Apache, now,” Stewart said.

Val looked at the man waiting.  “Well, you gonna tell us, or do we have to guess?”

Stewart smiled.  “There were at least twenty men who saw Johnny today.  All of them know he’s Madrid.”

“So—” Bonner started and then stopped.  “Well, guess that secret’s out of the bag now.”

Stewart nodded.

“Let’s see.” Val ran a hand over his chin.  “We have Jack Slade laid up in the house, a band of Apache on the warpath, and now everyone within a hundred miles knows that Johnny Madrid is here.  This just keeps getting better and better.”

Johnny laughed.  “It could be worse.”

Everyone turned to stare at him. 

“How?” Val said.

“We could already have gunhawks in town looking for us.”  When no one laughed, Johnny knew his attempt to lighten the mood hadn’t worked. 

Val cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the others.    “Now that Mr. Madrid has had his fun, let’s get down to business.    Hayes, you and Bryant ride into Nogales tomorrow and see what’s happening.  Find out what the soldiers told the townsfolk.

“Johnny, you’ll stay close to the house and help Joe around here.”

Johnny snorted, “Yeah, I’m sure there’s some tack that hasn’t been mended or a stall or two that needs cleaning.”

“At least you’ll keep busy and out of trouble.” 

Johnny narrowed his eyes and huffed, “Funny.”

Everyone except Johnny was laughing.

“Oh, and if anyone comes to visit, you stay out of sight until they’re gone.”

“Bonner, stay here with Johnny and help Molly with Slade.  The rest of us will help out around the ranch where Joe needs us.  Keep your eyes open and protect the vaqueros if there’s trouble.  If you see any sign of Apache, make sure they don’t see you.  Get to the others and get them back here.  Understood?”

There was a round of nods.

“Alright, let’s get to bed.  We need an extra man on guard tonight.  I’ll take the first shift.”

“No.” Johnny stepped forward.  “You’ll be out working while I’m staying around here doing almost nothing.  I’ll take the watch.  The rest of you get some sleep.”

Val knew he might have given the orders a few minutes earlier, but Johnny Madrid was the one in charge.  Looking at the faces of the men standing around him, they knew it too. 

---

As July turned into August, everything stayed peaceful at the ranch.  They had heard about more Indian attacks to the north, but so far, the Apache had avoided Nogales and the nearby area.

Johnny spent his time keeping Slade company, while the rest of the gunfighters helped out around the ranch.  The only excitement they had in the past month was dealing with the heavy rains that came with the monsoon season. 

On one of those rainy August afternoons, Jack and Johnny sat on the front porch snapping beans and peeling potatoes for Molly when Joe returned from a trip to town.  They watched him climb down from the buckboard and wade through a sea of mud to the house.

Over his shoulder, Joe carried his saddlebags, bulging with odds and ends for Molly and the mail.  He dropped the saddlebags on the porch and whipped off his yellow rain slicker.

“Got a letter in there for Johnny from California.” 

Johnny set the bowl of beans he’d been working on aside and picked up the bags.  Opening one side, he found the mail and sorted through it until he found a thick one with handwriting he recognized.

Slade’s eyes shifted to the envelope Johnny was holding.  “Is it from Murdoch or Scott?”

Johnny grinned.  “Murdoch.”

“Well, you’d better open it.”

“I think I’ll go…” Johnny looked towards the barn where he and Val slept.  There was nothing but rain and mud between the house and the barn.    

“Go on into my room, if you want to be alone,” Jack said.

Johnny stood and walked into the house, through the living room, and past the kitchen, where Molly was fixing dinner.  She gave him a curious look when he went on through to the bedroom.

Closing the door, Johnny sat on the edge of the bed.  He looked at the envelope again.  It was addressed to ‘John Lancer c/o Joe Worthington, Rancho Worthington, Nogales, Arizona Territory.’

Opening the envelope, he pulled out several sheets of paper.  He examined each one and smiled.  There were letters from Murdoch, Scott, and Teresa.

Making himself comfortable, he took off his boots, scooted back onto the bed, and sat cross-legged.   For the next half hour, he read and reread the letters.  They shared stories about life at the ranch, detailing what was happening and how Scott was doing. 

Johnny laughed when Scott said he had a bag of peppermint candy waiting for him. Each letter concluded with an urgent plea for him to come home.

The door opened, and Val stepped inside.  Then closed the door behind him.  “I heard you got some mail.”

Smiling Johnny held up the letters.  “They all wrote.”

Val sat on the bed next to Johnny and fixed his gaze on the boy.  “They’re asking you to come home?”

Johnny nodded.  “Yeah, every one of them.”

“Maybe you should think about going back.”

When Johnny didn’t say anything, Val asked, “You still aren’t sure you are going back, are you?”

“I’ll think about it just as soon as Farley Campbell is dead.”

“And when is that gonna be?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are we still doing here instead of out looking for him?  Slade’s gonna be able to ride soon.  He don’t need you anymore… hell, he didn’t need you to start with.”

“Val…”

“You talk to Slade about where he’s headed?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, with or without him, we’re going to have to start thinking about getting work.  I’m almost out of money, and we can’t keep freeloading off of Joe and Molly.”

“Got that covered.” Johnny held up Murdoch’s letter.  “The old man says he’s wired money to the bank in Nogales to help with our keep here.”

“Whose name?”

Johnny snorted.  “Yours…of course.”

“Good.  I’ll ride in tomorrow and pick it up.  Did he say how much?”

“Five hundred.”

Val whistled.  “That’ll help a lot.” 

Johnny looked past Val to the closed door.  “Everyone back?”

“Yep.  They’re getting cleaned up for dinner.”  Val stood.  “You’d better get a move on.”

Johnny moved to the side of the bed and stood up.  He unbuttoned his shirt and refolded the letters, tucking them inside.

As he began to walk toward the door, he paused and looked back.  “Val, you really think I can go back to Lancer and settle down again.  Pretend none of this happened?”

“Hijo, you can do anything you set your mind to.  It just depends on who you want to be most…Johnny Lancer or Johnny Madrid.”

“I wish it were that easy.  What if I can’t decide?”

Val sighed.  “Then, you go back and give Murdoch a chance to help you decide.”

Johnny opened the door and walked out, leaving Val to wonder if he had said the right thing. If Val knew one thing, it was that this wasn’t the life Johnny was meant to lead—a hired gun, risking his life every day, with no one to trust, and the only thing he had to look forward to was a bullet and a box.

---

Ben Lawson listened to Jack’s heart and lungs, flexed his arms, and pressed on the still tender spot on his back.   “How are you feeling?”

“Better before you poked me.”  

Ben laughed, “You can put on your shirt.”

“When can I ride?”

“Are all gunfighters as stubborn as you and Johnny?”

“Only the good ones,” he smiled.  “So?”

“I’d say any time you feel strong enough.”

Jack slipped on his shirt and buttoned it.  Standing up, he walked out of his room and into the living room, where only Molly was waiting with two cups of coffee. 

Molly handed Ben one of the cups.  “How is he?”

Jack took the other cup.  “The Doc said I can ride whenever I feel strong enough.”

“That’s wonderful news.  Ben, will you stay for dinner?”

“No, I have to get back to town.”  Turning to look at Jack, he said, “If you need me—”

Jack raised a hand.  “I know where you are.  Thanks for everything, Doc.”

Ben Lawson put on his hat, opened the front door, and walked out.

As the screen door closed behind him, Jack looked at Molly.  “I bet you’ll be glad to be rid of us.”

“Goodness no.” She blushed.  “To tell the truth, I’ve enjoyed having someone to fuss over.  I’ll be sorry to see you go.  It gets lonely out here with no other women around.” 

“Molly, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.  I would have died if not for you and Joe.”

She placed a hand on his arm.  “Jack Slade, you think nothing of it.  You and the others have become part of our family.  I’d do anything for you, and you’re welcome here any time.”  

“Thank you.”  He sipped his coffee and looked towards the door.  “Where’s Johnny and Val?”

“Outside with Bonner, Stewart, and Martin.”

“Well, let’s go tell them the good news.”

Jack found Johnny at the corral, watching a vaquero work with a horse.  He walked over to stand beside him.

Johnny glanced sideways.  “The Doc cut you loose?”

“He did.”

Johnny’s eyes went to the gun on Jack’s hip.  “Need to practice?”

Jack’s hand went to his gun and nodded.   “Yeah, I do.”

“Good.  Come on.  We’ll ride out a ways and see if there’s a cactus we can shoot up.”

“Where are the others?”

“They went out with Joe to check the herd.  Won’t be back for a few hours.”

“Let’s go.  I’ll tell Molly so she don’t worry.”

Johnny smiled and headed to the barn to saddle their horses, while Jack went back inside.

---

Knowing Jack wouldn’t be able to ride for long, Johnny relaxed in the saddle and allowed Barranca to walk.

“Did you tell Molly?”

“I did,” Jack laughed, adjusting himself in the saddle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Molly told us to be careful.”

Johnny laughed.  “She does like to mother, doesn’t she?”

“She can’t help herself, but I guess that’s what all mothers are like.  My Ma used to tell us every time we left the house to be careful.”

“Not mine,” Johnny said with a sigh.  “Mine didn’t care what I did.”

Jack glanced at Johnny.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.  You at least had a mother who cared about you.”

“I did for all the good it did her.  I was too wild, never wanted to settle down, and do what I was told.”

“You got brothers and sisters?”

“Had one of each.  They died when I was about fifteen.  An influenza epidemic swept through West Texas.  It took them and then Ma.  That’s when I lit out on my own and picked up the gun.”

“What about your father?”

“Don’t remember him.  He died when I was three.”

They were quiet for a while.  Jack looked around.  “Where exactly are we going?”

“There’s an arroyo about a quarter mile from here.  We’ve been using it to practice.  We didn’t want to upset Molly with all the shooting.”  Johnny glanced at Jack.  “You still feeling alright?  We can turn back.”

“I’m good.  It’s just gonna take some time to build up my strength to ride any distance.”

“There it is.”  Johnny pointed to the dry creek bed just ahead of them.

Dismounting, Johnny tied off the horses while Jack examined the steep-sided gully.  He looked up at the sky, noting that for the moment, it was a clear, blue sky, with no clouds.  He didn’t want to get caught in the streambed if it started to rain.  He’d seen enough flash floods in Arizona to know what could happen.

They practiced drawing and firing for the next hour.  Finally, Jack raised a hand in surrender.  “Enough.”

Johnny sat on a nearby rock and reloaded his gun.  The entire time they’d been practicing, he’d been watching Jack, judging how he handled his gun.  There was no doubt that the weeks in bed had taken a toll on his speed and accuracy.   From what he saw, it wasn’t safe to leave his friends yet.

Jack shook his head.  “Damn, that took it out of me.  I guess I’m getting old; it’s taking me longer to get back on my feet than it used to.”

“It’ll just take some time.”

“Time is something we don’t get in our line of work.”

“That’s the truth.”

 Jack looked around and frowned.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.  How far are we from Nogales?”

Johnny looked up and shrugged.  “Maybe a half hour.”

“Good.” Jack stood and straightened his hat.  “I want a drink.”

“You think you can ride that far?”

“For a shot of tequila… You bet.  It might even ease the pain.”   Then he paused.  “You got any money on you?”

“I do.  Val was kind enough to give me my allowance after he went to the bank the other day.  Let’s go.”

---

At the edge of Nogales, they slowed their horses, each adjusting his hat low over his eyes, and thumbed off the trigger guards of their guns. 

Johnny remembered the last time he rode into Nogales with Slade by his side.  Of course, back then, he had an army with him.  His eyes scanned the crowd, watching the passersby who didn’t notice him at all.  The only thing missing was the sound of bells—the mission bells that rang whenever Johnny Madrid entered most towns along the border.

As if reading his mind, Jack said, “No bells this time.”

Johnny let a faint smile cross his lips.  “No.  No bells, but at least not everyone in town knows I’m here.”

Jack returned the smile.  “Well, there is that.  Saloon or Cantina?”

“Cantina.  I love Molly’s cooking, but the woman doesn’t use enough spices.  Tamales and beans sound good right now.”

They tied their horses off at the hitching rail in front of the little cantina, glanced around to see if there was anything to worry about, and then walked into the dimly lit building.  Inside, where it was cooler, but not by much, they found only a few customers in the middle of the day.

They moved to the corner table and sat in the two chairs, with their backs against the wall. 

The cantina owner approached the table and stopped.  His eyes went from Johnny to Jack and back, then a smile spread across his face.  “Señores, welcome.  It has been a long time.”

Johnny returned the smile.  “Si, it has.  Does your wife still cook for you?”

“Si, Señor Madrid, my Isabella is cooking.  She is a very good cook.”

“Then I’ll have tamales and frijoles.”

Jack nodded.  “The same.”

“And tequila?” 

“Si, gracias,” Johnny responded with a grin.

Jack took off his hat and placed it on the table.  He gave the room one more scan, then flexed his left arm and stretched his back with a grimace.

“Hurting?” Johnny asked.

“Some, but a drink will help dull the pain.”

The tequila arrived first, followed by the food.  For the next hour, two of the most notorious gunfighters in the West sat in a small Nogales cantina, talking and enjoying the sound of guitar music.

Jack leaned forward, closer to Johnny.  “Madrid, can I ask you a question?”

Johnny tipped his head.  Jack hadn’t called him Madrid in a while.  “You can ask.”

“When you get Campbell, what are you going to do?”

“You mean, am I gonna kill him or try to bring him in for trial?

Jack smiled.  He knew exactly what Johnny was going to do to Campbell.  “No, after.”

“I’m not sure.  Guess I haven’t given it much thought.  What about you?  Where are you going from here?”

“Oh, no, you don’t.”  Jack shook his head.  “You ain’t riding with me.”

Johnny frowned.  “Any reason?”

“Yeah, and he’s six feet six and stronger than a bear.”

Johnny laughed.  “You mean my old man?”

“Hell, yes.  I don’t want Murdoch Lancer riding my back trail.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Right.  Like, he didn’t come for you in Mexico.  Besides, if it weren’t him, it’d be Scott or Val.”  Jack turned to look Johnny straight in the eyes.  “Don’t you get it, boy?  There are a lot of people who want you out of the game, and I’m one of them.

“John, you’re twenty years old and have a chance at a life away from the gun.” 

“I’ve tried to settle in at Lancer.  I’ve tried for two years, but something always happens.”

“Wait a minute.  Let me ask you another question.  How do you feel about Murdoch?  Do you just ‘like’ him as a business partner, or do you ‘love’ him like family?  ‘Cause I gotta tell you that man loves you, and it would break his heart if you didn’t go back.”  

“Slade, you don’t know what it’s like.”

“You mean having a permanent roof over your head, eating three meals a day, sleeping in a comfortable bed, and being safe every night with people around who care about you.  No, I don’t know what that’s like.  I haven’t since I was fifteen, but you have, and you can again.

“Damn, Johnny, don’t throw it away.”

Johnny closed his eyes and looked down, fighting back his emotions.  Slade was right… Val was right… hell, everyone was right.  Why couldn’t he see it… feel it himself?

He loved Murdoch, and he knew the old man loved him.  It was something that had steadily grown over the past two years; yet, there was still something holding him back from fully committing to returning to that life again.

 “Come on.”  Slade pushed back from the table and put a hand on Johnny’s arm.   “We’d better get back before Molly sends some of the boys after us.”

Johnny stood and reached into his pocket for the money Val had given him.  Leaving a generous payment on the table, they strode out of the cantina, letting the heavy door swing closed behind them.

They paused on the wooden boardwalk long enough for their eyes to adjust to the bright afternoon sun before heading to their horses. 

Slade stopped and looked at Johnny.  “Look, I’m sorry if I was out of line back there.  You’re old enough to make up your own mind about your life.”

Johnny tried to smile.  “No, you were right.  There’s a lot I need to think about.  I just need to figure out what I want to do.”

Arriving at the horses, Johnny reached for his reins with one hand while he patted Barranca’s neck with the other.

Slade had one foot in the stirrup, ready to swing into the saddle, when his gaze drifted down the street.  His eyes fixated on a lone figure exiting the saloon.  There was an unsettling familiarity about him.  It took a heartbeat for the realization to break through — Farley Campbell was in Nogales.

“Johnny.” Slade’s voice was low and soft.

Johnny was smiling as he looked up, but it faded when he saw Jack’s face.  Turning, he followed his friend’s gaze, and after a few seconds, understood what had caught Jack’s attention.

Johnny’s eyes widened.  “Campbell?”  He dropped Barranca’s reins and walked into the middle of the street.

Slade moved to the edge of the street.  His eyes darted between Johnny and Campbell.

 “Johnny…” Jack hesitated, knowing that trying to stop what was about to happen was impossible.  Walking into the street, he positioned himself to Johnny’s left, knowing whatever happened would affect both of them.

Johnny’s fist clenched, then relaxed.  His right hand hovered over his gun.  “Campbell!”

---

Farley Campbell strolled down the dusty street, a satisfied grin spread across his face.  He had just spent a relaxing afternoon with one of the saloon’s ladies.

After ambushing Jack Slade, he had followed the gunfighter and his partner to a ranch east of Nogales.  When he saw one of the men riding toward town, he guessed they were heading for the doctor and that Slade was still alive. 

Yes, he was disappointed, but he found some satisfaction in letting it ‘slip’ one night at the saloon that Jack Slade was at the Worthington Ranch and was out of action.  If he couldn’t kill Slade, then maybe someone else would.   

Within a week, he noticed gunfighters drifting into Nogales and believed his plan was working.  That was until he saw that most of the gunmen were heading for the ranch and being welcomed with open arms.  It was clear that Slade had help and was getting more every day. 

Deciding it was unsafe for him in Nogales, Campbell headed to Magdalena de Kino, a small town about an hour’s ride south of the border.

For weeks now, he’d crisscrossed the border repeatedly.  Each time he gathered more and more information, not just about Slade but also about Johnny Madrid. 

When he found out Madrid was still wanted by the rurales, he came up with a new plan.  If Madrid showed up, he’d find a way to get him across the border, and well…he’d already spoken to the rurales commander in Nogales, Sonora.  If he couldn’t put a bullet in Madrid, then the rurales would.

As he neared his horse, a voice suddenly called his name.  Instinctively tensing, he spun around, his hand dropping to his gun and his eyes widening.

Not only was Johnny Madrid standing in the middle of the street facing him, but Jack Slade was right there with him.  Both gunfighters were staring him down.

---

Johnny’s eyes stayed fixed on Farley Campbell, the man he’d been trailing for almost six months.  

As his hand reached for his gun, Johnny suddenly heard the sound of small running feet.  He froze as three young boys darted past him, slipping between him and Campbell.

Campbell saw his chance and jumped on his horse.  He hit the reins against the horse’s back and galloped out of town, heading east.

Without a moment’s pause, Johnny threw himself onto Barranca and followed.  He hadn’t given a second thought to Slade, but hoped he was close behind. 

---

Johnny and Slade followed Campbell, but a few miles out of town, he suddenly veered south.

As they closed in on the border, Slade pulled alongside Johnny and motioned for him to slow down.

Out of breath and with pain etched on his face, Slade said, “Madrid.  Stop.”

Johnny shook his head.  “I’m not letting him get away.”

Jack leaned forward over the saddle horn, trying to fight back the ache in his back.  “Johnny, you can’t cross the border.   You know what will happen if the rurales catch you.”

“I don’t care.  Now get out of the way.”

Johnny kicked his horse and galloped across the border, leaving Slade behind.

Slade shook his head.  He needed to go back to the ranch for help, and he wasn’t looking forward to telling Val Crawford about what had just happened.

---

The ride back to the ranch wasn’t as quick as Slade would have liked.  By the time he stopped in front of the house and slid out of the saddle, he was hurting and exhausted.

He was instantly surrounded by gunfighters and vaqueros, all talking at once and eager to find out what had happened.  As much as he wanted to answer their questions, all he cared about was sitting down.

When he finally reached the house and lowered himself onto the top step of the porch, he raised a hand to quiet the men.  “Get Val.”

Val hurried out of the house before Bonner could yell for him. He looked around and then down at Slade, “Where’s Johnny?”

Slade took a breath and accepted a cup of water that Bonner offered him.  “Thanks.”

He took a drink, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  He looked up at Val and shook his head.  “I don’t know where he’s at right now.  We found Campbell in Nogales.  He took off and headed toward the border.  Johnny’s following him.”

Val’s eyes widened.  “And you let him go?”

“Let him go!” Slade shouted, forcing himself to stand despite the pain in his back.  His expression darkened, and his eyes narrowed.  “Let him go!  Damn it, Val, do you even remember who we’re talking about?  No one makes Madrid do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“He’s not …” Val paused.

“What?  He’s not Madrid.  Is that what you were about to say?  If it was, then you’re the only one who thinks that.” Slade’s gaze swept across the men gathered around them.  “They may not say the name Madrid, but there isn’t a single man here who doesn’t see him as Johnny Madrid.”  

Slade lowered his voice.  “Val, I know you want him to go back to California– back to Lancer.  You want him to be safe at the ranch with Murdoch and Scott, but that’s not what’s gonna happen.  Not until he’s ready for it. 

“Sure, there are times when even I forget.  When I see the boy who should have had an easy life, getting tucked in every night, with a father who wanted and loved him.  Do you really think he can go back to that life…after all this?”

“He’s done it before.”

“He has, and how easy was it for him to slip back into being Madrid when he left Lancer?”

“He needs time, Slade.  He needs time there…away from all this.  Away from the gun.”

Val turned and headed for his horse.

Slade followed Val into the yard.  “Where are you going?”

“After him.” Val walked to the barn and saddled his horse.  He stepped into the saddle and looked down at Slade.  “You know as well as I do, he’s gonna find trouble.  I’m gonna be there to watch his back.”

Jack heaved a weary sigh.  “Yeah, trouble does seem to find him one way or another.  I’m coming with you.  Let me get a fresh horse.” 

“Are you able to ride?” Val said.

Slade laughed, “Now, you’re forgetting who I am.  You can’t stop me any more than you could have stopped Madrid.” He looked at Bonner.  “You coming?”

Jess grinned.  “You know I am.  We all are.” 

Molly Worthington stepped off the porch.  “Val!”

As the men went to get their horses and a fresh one for Slade, Val reined his horse back and looked at the woman.

“I heard what Jack said.  Val, bring Johnny back.”

“That’s the plan, Molly.” Val pulled his hat down and nodded.  “I just hope he’s in one piece.”

As Slade and the other gunfighters rode up beside Val, Slade gave Molly a curt nod.  “Don’t worry, Molly.  We’ll be back as soon as we can, and we won’t come back without Johnny.”

Molly lifted her skirt and turned back toward the house.  She paused, watching the riders head for the border.  With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes and silently said a prayer.

---

Slade led the way until they reached the point where he’d left Johnny, then pointed south.  “That way.”

Val looked down at the tracks left by Johnny and Campbell.  “We won’t have any problem following them if the tracks stay this clear.”

Val led the way across the border, with the others close behind.  

---

An hour after crossing the border, Johnny was still following Campbell’s tracks.  It was easier than he had expected.  Suddenly, he felt a chill run down his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Focused only on the tracks, Johnny hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings.  He stopped and looked around.  Ahead, the trail narrowed, winding between jagged rock outcrops.  It was the perfect spot for an ambush.

Just as he decided to backtrack and circle around, his eyes caught a flash of light high in the rocks—sunlight glinting off a rifle barrel.  Cursing himself for riding into a trap, he threw himself off Barranca just as a bullet sliced a furrow across his rib cage.  A second earlier, it would have hit him in the square in the chest.

Landing on the hard-packed ground, Johnny rolled just as another bullet whizzed past the spot where he had been a moment earlier.  He let out a sigh of relief as Barranca turned back along their path and galloped away from the danger.   

He crouched behind a rock as another bullet sent shards of stone flying around his head. With Campbell on one side of him and a deep gully on the other side, there was nowhere to run.

“Madrid!”

Johnny turned his back to the rock.   He ran his hand over his right side, feeling the wet, sticky gouge that was bleeding freely.

“Madrid.  Can you hear me?”

Johnny leaned his head back and shut his eyes, determined not to answer.

“I heard old man Lancer and that brother of yours are still alive.  Guess my aim’s not what it used to be.”    There was a moment of silence.  “Heard you met up with Hoyt and the Davis Brothers.”  Silence.  “Madrid, you still there?”

After a few moments, Johnny heard rocks falling to his right.  Leaning forward, he looked up.  There was movement further down the outcropping.  Campbell was trying to circle behind him. 

Johnny smiled.  That was alright.  He wanted to get Campbell out so he could get a shot at him.   Wincing, he felt his side again.  There was too much blood, and there was no way to stop it. 

“You know, I found out a few things about you while waiting to get another shot at Slade.  You listening, Madrid?  I found out there’s a bounty on your head down here. Yeah, I even talked to a Rurales captain in Nogales about you.  He told me a story about how the man he replaced died—a man named Alejandro Sanchez.”

Johnny heard Campbell laugh.  “Seems you have a way of pissing people off wherever you go.  I told the captain I’d let him know if you ever crossed the border, but now I don’t need to do that.  I’m gonna finish you off myself.  Of course, I might let him know where I left your body.”

Johnny closed his eyes and concentrated on what was happening around him.   He heard more rocks falling and knew Campbell was getting closer.

He placed his Colt beside his leg, with the hammer cocked, leaned his head back, and waited. 

“Well…well…well.” Campbell laughed.  “Looks like I got you after all.”

Johnny lifted his head to look at the man who had tried to kill his family.  He often wondered how he’d feel when this moment finally came.  Now, staring at the smirking grin on Campbell’s face, all he felt was a wave of hatred.

Campbell lowered the rifle barrel and aimed it at Johnny’s heart.  “I should have killed you that day on the Stockton Road.”

Johnny let a slight smile cross his face and raised the barrel of his gun.  “Yeah, you should have.” 

Campbell’s eyes widened when he saw Johnny Madrid’s Colt pointed at him.

At the exact moment Johnny pulled his trigger and leaned out of the line of fire, Campbell fired his rifle.

The rifle bullet slammed into the rock where Johnny had been sitting, and Johnny’s bullet struck Campbell between the eyes. 

The man who caused pain and suffering wherever he went fell and rolled into the gully.

Johnny’s gun slipped from his hand.  He slowly closed his eyes, and with the heat of the Mexican sun beating down on him, his body slumped to one side; his head found a resting place on the hot, gritty sand.  A moment later, the world around him blurred, then faded into darkness.

---

Val was following the clearest tracks he’d ever seen when he heard Slade call his name.    He pulled back on the reins and stopped.  Turning to look at Jack, he snapped, “What?”

“It’s too easy.”

Val looked at the trail that even a blind man could follow, and knew Slade was right.  “Way too easy.  I wonder…”

The sound of gunfire echoed across the desert.  Val’s head snapped around looking for a direction.

“Val!” Bonner shouted, pointing ahead.  “It’s Johnny’s horse!” Barranca was galloping toward them at full speed, his reins trailing behind.

“Pick him up,” Val said as another shot was heard.  He pointed south.  “There.”

Bonner rode off to catch Barranca while the others urged their horses toward the gunfire.  As they got closer, all they heard was silence.

Val slowed his horse and raised a hand to signal for everyone to stop. 

He sat quietly for a moment, trying to figure out where the gunfire had come from, when two more shots, nearly sounding like one, rang out.  Without hesitation, he kicked his horse forward.

Val saw Johnny’s hat ahead on the ground.  He paused, drew his gun, and silently signaled for the men to spread out.    Dismounting, he looked around at the rocks before slowly walking towards the hat.  Stopping, he knelt and picked it up, noticing a spray of blood across the brim. 

With his gun raised and ready, he took a few more steps.  Then he saw the blood trail.

“Val!”

His head snapped up when Bill Martin called out, “Over here.”

Val hurried to the outcropping by the trail.  He stopped when he saw a body at the bottom of the gully.

“It’s Campbell,” Martin said.

Val let out a sigh of relief and then looked around.  “Johnny?”

“Over there,” Martin pointed to where Clint Stewart was kneeling.

Val holstered his gun and closed the distance to Johnny.  Dropping to his knees, he began to reach out, then glanced at Clint.  “Is he…?”

“He’s alive.  Looks like the bullet caught him in the side.”  

Val reached down, lifted Johnny up, and cradled him against his chest.  Brushing away the sand sticking to the side of his face, he said, “Hijo.”

When there was no response, Val looked around.  “Someone hand me a canteen.”

Slade appeared a moment later with a canteen, held it up to Johnny’s lips, and let a few drops splash on them.  

“Here.” Bonner handed Slade a wet bandana.  “Wipe his face and lips.  It might bring him around.”

Slade nodded and took the cloth.  He began wiping Johnny’s face, then dampened the bandana again and moistened his lips.

After a few moments, Johnny’s eyes fluttered open and focused on Val’s face.  “You came after me?”

Val snorted.  “You think I wouldn’t.  That was a damn fool thing to do.  Going after Campbell by yourself.”

“Couldn’t let him get away.  Not again.”  Johnny turned his head towards the gully.  “He dead?”

“He’s dead.” Slade wet the bandana again and placed it on the back of Johnny’s neck.  “A bullet between the eyes usually does that.”

Val unbuttoned Johnny’s shirt to get a better look at the wound.  “I see you forgot to duck …again.” 

“Guess so.”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood.” Val lifted his head and looked at Slade.  “I’m not sure how bad it is.  We need to set up camp here.”

Slade stood and looked around.  “We’re gonna set up camp,” he announced loudly enough for everyone to hear.  Then, gazing at Campbell’s body, he said, “Bryant and Lambert take care of that.  Bury him away from here.” 

“Williams, see if you can find something we can use to build a fire.”

Jess Bonner moved closer to Jack and leaned in, speaking softly, “Slade, when I went to get Johnny’s horse, I saw where a lot of horses had gone through, and not too long ago.”

Jack’s head shot up.  “Rurales?”

Bonner shook his head.  “The horses weren’t shod.”

“Damn.  It’s probably the same bunch of Apache the cavalry’s after.”  Slade shook his head.  “This just keeps getting better and better.  Set up some guards.  We don’t need any more surprises.”

Slade went to his horse, opened one of his saddlebags, and pulled out an extra shirt. Returning to Val, he said, “We can use this to bandage him up.” 

After Val laid Johnny down on his back, he tore off a piece of the shirt and pressed it against the open wound.

“Take it easy,” Johnny hissed.

Val shook his head and poured water over the piece of shirt, then wiped away as much blood as he could.  “You’ve got a gouge at least an inch wide.  It’s gonna need stitches.”

As Val finished bandaging Johnny, Bonner gave Slade an update.  “Hayes and Bryant have taken care of Campbell’s body.”

“How deep did you bury him?”

“Have no idea and don’t care,” Bonner stated flatly.  “The man put a bullet in your back and shot the Lancers.  The coyotes can have him for all I care.”

“Alright.” Slade gave Bonner a weak smile and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “So, how’s the camp coming?”

“Figured we’d set up down in the gully.  At least there we can have a fire and no one can see it.”

Slade looked at the clear sky overhead and then toward the east, where the rains usually came this time of year.  It was clear there, too.

“The rainy seasons just about played out,” Bonner said, knowing what Slade was thinking.  “Don’t see any sign of rain, so I figure we’re safe tonight.”

Finally, Slade nodded his agreement.  “Val’s almost done with Madrid.  Let’s get the horses down there, too, and keep them close.”

Bonner turned to the rest of the men and relayed their orders.  By the time the sun set, everyone was huddled near the small fire.

Johnny leaned against the side of the gully, still warm from the day’s heat, and watched the flames leap.

Val sat next to Johnny and stretched out his legs.  “Wished one of us had thought to bring some food.”

Johnny smiled.  “Guess you didn’t waste any time coming after me.”

“No.  Figured you’d find trouble.”  Val didn’t have to say the words ‘and you did.’

“Still, some coffee would be good right about now.”

Val leaned forward and put a hand to Johnny’s forehead.  “You’re warm.”

“Got a little fever.  Nothing to worry about.”

Val stood up and walked to where Bonner had placed Barranca’s tack.  He grabbed the horse blanket and brought it back, draping it over Johnny’s shoulders. 

“There now, you keep that around you.”

“Thanks,” Johnny said as he pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

Val sat back down with a grunt. 

Slade poked at the fire, then leaned back.  Hesitantly, he said, “Johnny, can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask,” Johnny answered with half-closed eyes.

“You remember that day, I found you outside Tucson, after you shot Jackson.”

“I remember.  Seems like a lifetime ago now.  So much has happened since then.”  Johnny looked at Slade.  “So, what’s your question?”

“Well… there were a few minutes when you were trying to decide whether to trust us…trust me or not.” Jack’s eyes stayed on the fire.  “I know you were out of it.”

“Yeah,” Johnny answered, wondering where this was headed.  “I was.”

“The gun—,” Slade began.

Johnny took a deep breath.  “You want to know if I would have pulled the trigger on myself instead of going back to Mexico?”  Johnny glanced at Slade.

As Slade nodded, Val leaned in.  “I’d like to hear the answer, too.  I heard some of the men talking about what happened when they found you.”

“Dios,” Johnny said, rubbing his face with both hands.  “Not having this conversation.  Not with you.”

“Johnny, were you going to …?”  Val’s voice faltered.

Johnny looked around the fire, taking in the faces of the men he now trusted as brothers.  How was he going to explain to them that on that day outside Tucson, he would have done anything to avoid being taken back into Mexico?

“Alright,” Johnny started.  He had thought about that moment more than once over the last two years, even having nightmares about it.  Hell, maybe talking about it would help.

“You remember Vasquez made it clear that there was no firing squad waiting for me in Mexico.”

His eyes scanned the men and saw heads nodding.

“I knew what kind of death they had planned.  When I was a kid, I saw it more than once.  It isn’t pretty, and it isn’t quick.” Johnny stared off into the darkness.

“Slade, have you ever seen a man crucified, Mexican style?”

 He turned his head to look at Jack and could tell he hadn’t.

Looking back at the fire, he sighed.  “You see, they want to make sure you last as long as you can with the most pain.  Sometimes, a man will last a few hours, but most of the time, it’s a few days.  Those who go quick are the lucky ones.  The ones that last days… well, I can still hear their screams.  They would scream until …” He closed his eyes.  “Those were the ones who were begging to die.”

Johnny didn’t want to think about it.  He had made up his mind that he would never be taken alive. 

Slade was quiet for a long time.  “Vasquez said dead or alive.”

Johnny looked at him and swallowed hard, not wanting to do this.  “Yeah, that.  You see, the fun doesn’t end when the man is tortured and dies.  It’s… after.  If they had taken me dead, then they’d still have their trophy.” Johnny paused and closed his eyes again, trying to block out the images he’d seen as a child.  Images of men who had died and then… “I didn’t want the old man and Scott to watch as they paraded my head through the streets of every village I ever helped. 

“So, the answer to your question–would I have put a bullet in my head instead of going back to Mexico?  In a heartbeat.”

The only sound in the stillness was the crackling of the fire.  Its flames danced, casting a flickering shadow that moved across the darkness around it.  

Johnny broke the silence.  “So why now?  Why ask now?”

“I was just thinking.  We’re in Mexico now,” Slade said as he stood and scanned their surroundings.  “We’d better post some guards.”

“We’ll get back across the border at first light,” Val said. 

Bonner poked the fire.  “I’m glad the bastard’s dead.”

Slade looked down at him.  “Who?”

“Sanchez.” Bonner looked at Johnny.  “I’m glad he’s dead.”

Johnny gave him a slight nod.  “Me too.”

Val took a deep breath, ready to change the subject and breach a topic he knew would ignite a reaction.  He just didn’t know what the reaction would be.

“At least it’s over.  Now that Slade’s back on his feet and Campbell’s dead, there’s no reason to stay here anymore.  As soon as you’re ready to ride, we’ll head home.”

Johnny only nodded.

“You do want to go home, don’t you?”

Johnny raised his head and looked at Val.  “Sure, I do.”

“Well, don’t sound so excited about it.”

Johnny smiled.  “I just need to wrap my head around it.”

“You know if you don’t head back, Murdoch and Scott are coming after you.”

“And they’d do it too.” Slade glanced sideways at his friends.  After a pause, he said, “It’s a hell of a lonely trail, Johnny.  I’m tired of riding it, and I reckon you are too.  It’s time for you to head home.”

Johnny sighed, “It’s not that easy.”

Val huffed.  “A lot easier than you think.   When we get back to Joe and Molly’s, I’m sending a telegram to Murdoch to let him know about Campbell.  I’m telling him we’re coming home…both of us.”  

Johnny sat thinking.  He was tired – tired of so many things.  Yes, he’d been riding a lonely trail for most of his life.  The only time he felt as if he could relax was at Lancer, and Campbell had taken that away from him.

Maybe Val and Slade were right.  Maybe Lancer was where he belonged. 

---

The next morning, before the sun was above the horizon, Val was ready to break camp.  The trip back to the ranch would be slow, and he hoped they wouldn’t run into any trouble.

They had just crossed the border into Arizona when they saw Will Hayes galloping toward them as if the devil himself was after him.  Pulling back on the reins, he skidded to a stop and pointed back the way he’d come.  “We’ve got trouble.  Cut across the trail of a war party.”

Jack’s eyes were on the trail ahead.  “Did they see you?”

Hayes nodded.  “They saw me, but they might not think I was worth coming after.”

Val stood in his stirrups, looked around, and then at Johnny and then at Slade.  Johnny was leaning forward in his saddle, and even though Slade hadn’t said anything the night before, Val could see he was still hurting.  “If they come, we can’t make a running fight of it.”

Jack turned in his saddle, undecided which way to go, when he heard the sound of running horses echo across the plain.  It didn’t take long to figure out where the sound was coming from.  He could see a cloud of dust rising to their right.  Going back across the border was an option, but not one any of them relished.

“Madrid, you’re gonna have to hang on.”

Johnny raised his head and looked from under the brim of his hat.  “If you can, so can I.  Just get us out of here.”

Jack raised his hand and signaled for everyone to go north.  

Val was in the lead when he spotted a rock outcropping and pointed at it.  “Head for there!” he yelled to be heard over the running horses. 

Once sheltered behind the rocks, everyone dismounted and grabbed their rifles. 

“Bryant, you stay with the horses,” Slade ordered.  “The rest of you spread out.”

Val helped Johnny and found a spot where they could both stand.

“Just a few more miles and we’d be on Joe’s land,” Martin said as he laid his rifle on top of a rock then pulled out his pistol.  Checking to make sure it was fully loaded, he laid the gun next to the rifle.

Johnny leaned against the solid rock surface and covered his side with his hand.  When he pulled it away, it was covered in blood.  Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he turned his right side to the rock. 

Val gave him a scrutinizing look.  “You alright?”

“I’m alright.  You see anything?”

Val stood up and looked around.  “No.”

“Maybe they just went on by.”

“Maybe.”

A few seconds later, they heard gunfire and the distant sound of a bugle.  Two clouds of dust merged into one as the gunfire grew louder.

Slade turned his back to the rocks and slid down.  “Sounds like the cavalry finally caught up with the band of Apache they were after.”

Jim Lambert climbed onto the rocks and tipped his hat to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare.   “You know, with them fighting each other.  We might be able to sneak out of here and get to the ranch.”

Roy Williams joined him.  “Can you see anything?”

“No.  Just a lot of dust being kicked up.”  Lambert looked down.  “Slade, what do you say?”

Jack pushed himself up and thought for a moment.  Then he looked at Johnny.  “You bleeding again?”

Johnny knew there was no use in hiding it.  “Some.”

Val spun around and pulled Johnny’s hand away from the wound.  Seeing the fresh blood, he cursed before going to his horse to grab the last piece of Slade’s shirt.  He folded part of the shirt and pressed it against Johnny’s side.  “Hold this.” Then he turned to Slade.  “We need to get him to a doctor.”

“Alright, we’re about ten miles from the ranch.  It looks like the army is gonna keep the Apache busy, so…yeah, let’s make a try for it.”

 Holstering his gun, he picked up his rifle.  “Mount up, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

---

The moment they entered the ranch yard, Molly was out of the house and running toward them.  When she saw Johnny, she held her hands to her throat and shook her head.  “Oh, Johnny, I was afraid you’d get yourself hurt.” Moving beside Barranca, she placed a hand on Johnny’s leg.  “Is it bad?”

Johnny tried smiling but failed.  “Not too bad.  Just a graze.”

“Well, you look terrible.” Spinning around, she glared at Val.  “Get the boy off that horse!  How could you let him ride in this condition?” She threw up her hands in frustration.  “Never mind.  Just get him inside and into bed.  Then she looked at Jack and shook her head.  “And you, just out of bed and riding all over the territory.  Lordy, what am I going to do with you two?”  Looking around at the men still mounted, her eyes fell on Martin.  “Bill, send someone for Doc Lawson.”

As she turned to follow the men helping Johnny, she glanced over her shoulder and saw everyone still standing motionless.  “Well, go on now!”

There was a flurry of activity, and Martin headed for Tucson, thinking it was safer to ride for the doctor than stay at the ranch.

---

When Ben Lawson finished stitching Johnny’s side, he leaned back and shook his head.  It still amazed him that someone so young could have so many scars.  There would be a new one from this wound, but he also noticed a few more since the last time he’d treated Johnny.

It was hard to believe it had been less than two years since he first met Johnny Madrid.  At that time, the boy had just come from Mexico with more injuries than a dozen men could survive in a lifetime.  

As he reached to pull the covers over Johnny’s bare chest, he paused and gently rolled him onto his side to examine his back.  The last time he treated Johnny, his back was covered in open wounds.  Now, only scars remained, and most of them were fading.

“How is he, Doc?”

Lawson looked up to see Val in the doorway.

“He’ll be alright.  He’s got a fever, but that’s to be expected.  I was looking at his back.  It healed nicely.”

“Yeah, it did.  Took long enough.”

Lawson nodded and let Johnny roll onto his back, then covered him with a blanket.  Standing, he turned to look at Val.  “I heard from Joe and Molly that the trouble with Sanchez followed him to California.”

Val snorted, “It did, but Johnny took care of it.  Expect you heard he went back into Mexico and took care of Sanchez’s brother, too.”

“I did.  My understanding was that no one looked into Alejandro Sanchez’s death.  He appeared to be as disliked as his brother.”

Val looked down at the bed.  “You give him something to help him sleep?”

“Laudanum, but just enough to keep him out while I worked on him.  He’ll be coming around in a little while.”

There was a gentle moan, and Johnny’s head began to turn. 

“See.  He’s already waking up.” Lawson grabbed his medical bag and headed for the door.  “Molly knows what to do for the fever.  I’ll come back tomorrow to check on him.  If you need me before then, send one of the men to find me.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Val watched Ben Lawson walk out of the room and then sat in the chair beside Johnny’s bed. 

As he watched Johnny sleep, he couldn’t help but remember all the times he’d sat like this—worried about Johnny as a child and then as a young man, with a growing reputation.  Too many times.

Reaching out, he brushed the dark hair away from Johnny’s forehead.  “Time for me to get you back to Lancer, boy.”

Johnny stirred, opened his eyes, and gave Val a weak smile before drifting off again.

Val reclined, deep in thought.  He knew he faced a tough fight, but he was determined to win.  Johnny Madrid was going back into retirement, one way or another.

---

Two weeks later, Johnny sat on the top rail of the corral, staring intently at the eastern horizon.  The morning birds, whose song had filled the air for the past hour, suddenly fell into an eerie silence.  The usual chorus of the desert, once alive with distant calls of wildlife, seemed to fade. 

In that quiet moment, just before the sun’s first rays started to light the sky, the world seemed suspended in time.  It was as if it were holding its breath, waiting for the dawn to break.

Then it came—a gentle, whispering breeze swept across the land, moving through the chaparral and trees.  Like an artist holding a brush, the sky turned into a canvas filled with shades of lavender, gold, and pink.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Johnny turned his head and looked down to see Molly standing beside him.  He kicked himself for not noticing her walk up while he was focused on watching the sunrise. 

“It is.”

Molly could hear the sadness in Johnny’s voice.  “But not as beautiful as Lancer.  Right?”

Johnny smiled.  “No, not as beautiful as Lancer.  I don’t think there’s any place in the world more beautiful than Lancer.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  “Molly, you should see it—green fields, with flowing creeks and wide-open skies.

“There’s a spot where you can stand and see the entire ranch, with all its rolling hills and mountains.  In the middle, there’s the hacienda, all white and gleaming.  And horses… you’ve never seen so many wild horses.  It would take a lifetime to round them all up.”

“Joshua wrote us about your ranch.  He says it’s like heaven on earth.  Your father must be very proud of what he created.”

“He is that,” Johnny laughed.  “He once said he loved Lancer more than anything God created.”

Molly smiled.  “I doubt if he meant more than you and your brother.”

“I don’t know.  When he said it, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what he meant.  But now…”

“Now, things have changed.  Haven’t they?   I know how happy you’ve been there.  I can see it in your eyes when you talk about Lancer.  Admit it, even with everything that’s happened, that’s where your heart is and where you really want to be.”

Johnny dipped his head and nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“How long have you been away?”

Johnny thought for a moment.  “This is October.  I left in May, so six months…give or take.”

“You have to go back.”

Johnny shook his head and hopped down from the fence, landing lightly on his feet.  “It’s not that easy.  I thought I could settle in there, but my past keeps coming back.”

“Not this time.  You left because of what was done to your family.  You’ve stayed away…”  She turned to look at Johnny’s profile.  “Johnny, why exactly have you stayed away?”

“Because of Campbell.”

“But he’s dead now.  Why aren’t you packing to go home?”

“Because,” he sighed.  “Molly, every time I think about going back, I…”

“You’re scared, aren’t you?  Scared of Madrid?”

“No, not him.”  Johnny dipped his head.  “He’s kept me alive a long time.”

“And that part of you will always be there when you need him, but Johnny, it’s time to let him step aside.   It’s time to go back to California and find Johnny Lancer again.  You deserve that life.” 

Johnny sighed.  “Do I?”

“You know you do.” She shook her head in frustration.  “It’s got to be lonely, the life you’ve led.  These past months, chasing after Campbell, set you back on a path you should be leaving behind.”

Johnny laughed.  “You been talking to Val and Slade?”

“No.  Why?”

“They said something about my riding a lonely trail, and I need to go home.”

“Val and Jack are wise men.  You should listen to them.” 

“Maybe.”

“Johnny, I don’t want Murdoch to have to come for you like Marty Gammon’s family did for him.  That would truly break the man’s heart.

“Don’t you think enough time has been taken from you and your family?  When Murdoch was here, he told me he’d spent a lifetime waiting for you and your brother to come home.” She placed a hand on his shoulder.  “He’s still waiting.  Don’t you think a lifetime is long enough for anyone to wait?”   

---

A week later, everyone gathered in front of the ranch house, laughing and enjoying drinks.  A long table made from extra boards was set up, with every chair on the ranch arranged along both sides, along with stacks of hay bales for extra seating.  Joe and Molly sat at one end of the table, while gunfighters and vaqueros lined both sides of it.

Now that the danger was over, there was no reason for the gunfighters to stay.  Dave Bryant and Roy Williams announced that they would be heading to New Mexico to find work, while Will Hayes was returning to El Paso.  Stewart and Martin said they were staying in Arizona, at least for now, and would stop by to check on Joe and Molly whenever they were in the area.

Molly looked around the table, feeling heavy-hearted.  These men—these gunfighters—had become her family, and now she felt like she was losing them.  Although she knew they would come and go, the truth was they would never be all together like this again.

She looked at Johnny, Val, Slade, and Bonner and knew they would also leave.  She only hoped Johnny had been listening and would return to California and back to Lancer.

At the far end of the table, Stewart asked the question everyone had wondered about for days.  “Johnny, where are you headed?”

Johnny reached for the bowl of potatoes, but his hand froze.  He glanced at Stewart, then his eyes scanned the table.  Everyone was waiting for a reply.  His gaze met Molly’s, and he offered her a faint smile.  “Thought I’d head back to the San Joaquin before my old man comes looking for me again.”

Molly saw Val’s shoulders relax as everyone laughed and started eating.  She placed a hand on Johnny’s arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.  “You’ll send Murdoch a telegram in the morning?”

“No, Molly,” Val said.  “I’ll send the telegram.  If we left it up to Johnny, it would never get sent.”  He was thinking of the letter Johnny was supposed to have written weeks ago and hadn’t.

Johnny nodded.

Molly turned to Slade.  “Jack, where will you and Jess be going?”

Slade smiled and nudged Val, giving him a wink.  “We thought we’d go along with Johnny and Val to make sure they got to Lancer in one piece.”

“Well, then, that’s settled.” She sighed and leaned back.  “You’ll all be leaving us soon.  I’m going to miss you.”

“Don’t, Molly,” Jess said.  “You know us.  We kept turning up like a bad penny.  You can’t get rid of us that easy.”

As the evening drew to an end, Val and Johnny went to the stall in the barn they had been using for the past seven weeks.  

Johnny tossed his hat onto the straw bed and unbuckled his gun belt.  Dropping it next to his hat, he looked at Val.  “When do you wanna leave?”

Val sat on a bale of hay and took off his boots.  “Was planning on leaving when you felt up to it.”  

Johnny knew what he was saying.  Could he ride?  Yes.  Did he want to go back to Lancer?  The truth was, he didn’t know.

While everyone around him was pushing him to go back, they didn’t realize it wasn’t that simple.  Johnny found himself at a crossroads, caught between a life he knew and was comfortable with and a life that was still so new it sometimes scared him.

The one thing he did know, however, was that if pushed to do something before he was ready, he’d fight against it tooth and nail out of pure stubbornness.  No, this was a decision he had to make on his own.

Moving onto his blanket, Val shot Johnny a quick glance.  “How’s your side?”

Johnny’s hand instinctively covered the still-healing wound.  It was better, but still hurt.  It seemed like every time he recovered from one injury, he’d get another, and each time it took longer to heal.  Maybe that was a sign in itself that his old life was catching up to him.

He knew Val was waiting for an answer, but he didn’t have one.  

Val watched the emotions playing across Johnny’s face.  A tight knot twisted in his stomach as he realized the boy was still having second thoughts. 

“I’ll send a telegram to Murdoch tomorrow.  Let him know we’ll be heading that way in a week or so.”

Johnny only nodded.

“You have second thoughts?”

Johnny looked at Val and again nodded.  “I don’t know if I can do it again.  Going back to Lancer, I mean.  Settling down to being told what to do and when to do it.”

“So, you want to stay in the game?  Watching your back every minute of every day?”

Johnny shook his head.  “No.  I don’t want that.  I just…hell, I don’t know what I want.”

“Well, you’d better make up your mind because I’m headed back to Green River.  You might not want to go back, but I like it there just fine.  For the first time in my life, I’ve found something I’m better at than just being a gunhawk.  I enjoy wearing a badge and only dealing with drunks on Saturday nights.”

“And for your information, Mr. Madrid, I enjoy going out to Lancer and sleeping in that big feather bed, knowing you’re safe in the next room.  And I like sitting down with Murdoch, Scott, and you for a dinner that’s not cooked over a campfire.”

Johnny grinned.  “Maria’s a good cook.”

“The best.”

Johnny looked at the blanket-covered straw he’d called a bed for weeks.  “And my bed is soft.”

“Softer than sleeping on the hard ground, or in some flea bag of a hotel in a border town.”

Johnny sighed.  “And there are people who care about me.”

“A hell of a lot of people.”  Val shifted and propped himself up on an elbow.  “Hijo, you’re not alone anymore.”

“You really think I can do it?”

“The Johnny Madrid I know can do any damn thing he sets his mind to.”

“You haven’t called me that in a while.”

“Just because I don’t call you Madrid doesn’t mean I don’t remember who you are…deep down.  Slade reminded me of that.”

“You really think I can change and become Johnny Lancer?”

Val smiled.  “You are already Johnny Lancer.  You don’t have to give up being Madrid.  Murdoch accepted that part of you a long time ago, and honestly, I don’t want you to lose him either.”

“You think people will forget?”

“You don’t want them to forget, do you?  You like the attention.”

Johnny raised his head and looked Val straight in the eyes.  “I like people knowing who and what I am.  I like the respect, if you can call it that.  I’ve worked hard to become the best.”

“Yes, you have.  Now, the question is, are you willing to work just as hard to become Johnny Lancer?”

Val turned over and blew out the lantern, placing the barn into darkness.  Overhead, he heard the sound of the men who were sleeping in the loft, settling down.  He knew they’d listened to the conversation he’d had with Johnny.  Well, there was no help for it. 

Val heard the whispered word, “Papi.”  

He turned over to face Johnny.  Keeping his voice soft, he replied, “Yeah.”

“That telegram you’re gonna send tomorrow…tell the old man, we’ll be leaving at the end of the week.  I can ride.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.  Besides, I don’t know how much help Scott is around the place.  I figure Murdoch’s gonna need my help getting ready for winter.”

Smiling in the darkness, Val said, “He always needs help.  It’s a big spread.”  

“You know Thanksgiving and Christmas are gonna be here before you know it.”

“I do.  We sure don’t want to miss out on that.”

“And…well, you know how December is full of birthdays.”

“And your birthday?”

“You know, I’m gonna be twenty-one.” 

Val could hear the excitement in the boy’s voice. “About time you turned legal,” Val chuckled.  “But I have a problem.”

“What problem?”

Val could hear the concern in Johnny’s voice.   “Don’t rightly know what to get you this year.  I mean, you already drink, and you don’t need to be introduced to the soiled doves at the saloon.  Don’t know what to get someone who’s turning twenty-one.” 

“I’ll think of something.”

From overhead, they heard Bonner’s voice.  “Will you two go to sleep.  Slade and me will figure out what to get Madrid for his birthday.”

Johnny pulled the blanket over his shoulders and closed his eyes.  He whispered, “Night, Papi.”

A faint, “Night, hijo,” was the last thing Val said before he started snoring.

---

The rest of the week flew by.  Val sent a telegram to Murdoch telling him they would be coming home, and he would send another once they left Nogales.

On the last morning at the ranch, everyone was up early.  Ben Lawson arrived to check on Johnny and Slade.  He rebandaged Johnny’s wound and declared both men fit to ride. 

Molly made a big breakfast to keep them going for hours and packed enough supplies to last until they reached Yuma.

The other gunfighters delayed their departure so they could make sure Johnny hadn’t backed out.  As everyone headed to their horses, Molly shed tears, Joe shook everyone’s hands, and the ranch vaqueros patted them on the back.  

By the time they left Rancho Worthington, Johnny was eager to hit the trail.

They planned to stop in Nogales to send a telegram to Lancer, letting Murdoch know they were on the way and when to expect them.  As they reached the edge of town, the men fell back to let Johnny and Slade ride in first. 

The small telegraph office was in a newer wooden building, almost right on the border itself.  Val thought it was too close for comfort.  Taking Johnny so close to the Rurales Headquarters wasn’t something he liked.  Still, maybe no one would recognize Johnny and raise an alarm.

They were in the middle of town when the mission bells started ringing, announcing Johnny Madrid’s arrival in Nogales.  

Val didn’t need to see Johnny’s face to know he had closed his eyes and taken a deep breath.

As if it were planned, men, women, and children of all ages stepped onto the wooden boardwalks lining the street to watch Madrid enter Nogales.

From the mission door on the Mexican side of the border, Val watched the Padre step outside, walk down the stone steps, and cross the courtyard, heading toward the border.  Along with him came people who just wanted to say they had seen Johnny Madrid.

Stopping at the stone pillar marking the United States-Mexican border, the Priest raised a hand and made the sign of the cross.  Johnny tipped his hat and smiled.

Glancing at Johnny, Val realized he was right.  The Madrid part of the boy was going to miss this — miss the attention.  

Dismounting, Val headed for the telegraph office.  He called over his shoulder, “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

“I’ll do my best,” Johnny replied, then turned his attention back to the Priest.

Johnny redirected his focus when he saw a uniformed officer pushing through the crowd, followed by several armed men.  The man placed his hands on his hips and stared.

Johnny knew this was the Rurales Captain Campbell had mentioned. 

A collective gasp swept through the crowd, and people stepped back as the Rurales raised their rifles, awaiting the command to fire.  Only the Priest stayed in place.

Johnny’s fingers brushed the butt of his gun as he scanned the gathering.  He didn’t want an open gun battle with the people of Nogales caught in the middle.  Then he noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Bonner, Martin, and Stewart slowly moved their horses closer to him, facing the soldiers on the other side of the border.  One by one, Bryant, Lambert, Williams, and Hayes did the same.  

Now, instead of just one man facing the Rurales, there was a line of gunfighters ready to do whatever was necessary to protect one of their own.

Johnny gave the captain a slight smile.  He didn’t have as big an army with him this time as he did on his last visit to Nogales, but it would do.

Slade saw what was happening and moved his horse so that he was between the border and Johnny.  “Someone you know?”

“No.  Don’t know him, but I’m sure he’d like to get to know me.”

“No kin to Sanchez, is he?”

Johnny laughed.  “I sure as hell hope not.”

Val hurriedly scribbled out the simple message and paid the operator.  When he stepped outside, he came to a complete stop, letting his eyes scan the crowd gathered on both sides of the border.

When Val saw the captain, he looked at Johnny’s face and then back at the captain.  They were staring each other down as if both were ready to draw.  

The Rurales Captain ran his eyes over the line of men sitting on horseback in front of him.  Reluctantly, he raised his hand and ordered his men to lower their guns.  

Returning Johnny’s smile, he said, “There will be other days, Señor Madrid.”

Johnny gave his head a gentle shake.  “Don’t count on it, Capitán.”

As Val mounted his horse, he said, “Hell, boy, I was gone for five minutes and you couldn’t stay out of trouble.”

Johnny laughed, “No trouble, Papi.  Just paying my respects to the captain over there.”

Val looked at the captain again and snorted, “Well, unless you’re planning on going over there and shaking hands, I think we’d better get out of here.”  

“No, I think I’ll stay right here.”

Reaching out a hand, Val gently placed it on Johnny’s arm.   “Let’s go home, boy.”

Johnny’s eyes shifted to Val.  He nodded and pulled his hat down over his eyes.   The mission bells were still ringing when Johnny turned his back on Mexico and gave Barranca a gentle kick.

---

Overlooking the hacienda, Johnny watched the darkening October sky, and his only thought was, ‘It was going to rain soon.’ As if hearing his thoughts, thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning streaked overhead.

Since deciding to return to this place, they had traveled hard.  After Nogales, the men went their separate ways.  Only Slade and Bonner made the trip to California with Val and Johnny.

Their first stop was Yuma, then they headed north across the Colorado River to Tysons Well, and then west, crossing the Colorado again to reach San Bernardino.  The desert was as hot as they remembered, and by the time they arrived in San Bernardino, it was time to rest for a day or two.  The journey from San Bernardino was easier, as they passed through Bakersfield and into the lower part of the San Joaquin Valley.

It had taken two long weeks, but now that he was here, he wasn’t so sure he had made the right decision.  A lot had happened to him since he was last here—perhaps too much.  Even on the trip back, the thought that he might not fit in again was always on his mind. 

Shaking his head, with his mind made up, Johnny began to rein Barranca around and head back the way he came when he heard two shots ring out below. 

He had been seen.

And then he heard it—a single, resounding bell.  It wasn’t the melodic ring of church bells that announced Johnny Madrid’s arrival in every town he rode into in Mexico and along the border.  Instead, this was a persistent, echoing clang of a single bell—the Lancer fire bell—ringing across the countryside, signaling to anyone and everyone who was listening that Johnny Lancer was home.

Off to his right, someone was yelling.   A lone rider was racing toward him.

Johnny smiled, and his heart leaped to his throat when he saw it was Scott, frantically waving his hat.  He couldn’t make out all the words, but knew his brother was calling his name.

Johnny stood in his stirrups, and as the wind ruffled his hair, he lifted his hat and waved back.   All thoughts of riding away vanished as he kicked Barranca into motion.

Horse and rider galloped down the hillside. 

Ranch hands and vaqueros, alerted by the lookout’s signal, gathered in the yard in front of the hacienda.  Murdoch swung open the French doors and stepped out while Teresa and Tate came from the side of the house to stand beside him. 

All eyes went to the hillside as a golden horse ran towards them.

“He’s home, Murdoch,” Teresa yelled, grabbed his arm, and jumped up and down.  “Johnny’s home.”

With tears streaming down her face, she turned and collapsed into her husband’s arms.  “He’s really home.”

Tate pulled her close, quietly saying a prayer for his friend’s safe return.  Looking down at his wife, he gently placed a hand over the slight swelling beneath her dress.

Murdoch couldn’t speak because of the lump in his throat.  The rider was still too far away to see his face, but he’d recognize Barranca anywhere. 

Movement to his left caught the rancher’s eye.  He saw Scott racing across the green field to meet his brother.  Neither slowed nor stopped as they turned toward the arch together.

“Patron.” Cipriano tapped Murdoch’s arm and pointed to the hilltop. 

Three riders watched the brothers.  Murdoch recognized them.  He had received Val’s telegram days earlier, knowing he was returning home with Johnny and bringing Jack Slade and Jess Bonner along. 

Murdoch gazed across the landscape, feeling a sense of satisfaction as he took in the sight of his entire family finally coming back together.  To him, family was much more than blood.  The people who called this land home, the children playing in the distance, and even the figures on the hilltop were all part of his family, as much as the two young men joyfully riding toward him.

---

The brothers threw themselves off their horses and into each other’s arms, laughing and crying at the same time. 

“I missed you, little brother.”

“I missed you, too, Boston.” Johnny stepped back, staring at Scott.  The last time he’d seen his brother, he was lying in bed, a broken man.  “Are you alright?  I mean…” His eyes shifted to Scott’s leg.

“I’m fine now.”  Scott slapped his leg.  “Actually, more than fine now that you’re home.”  He grabbed Johnny again and brought him into a bear hug.  “Don’t ever do that again.  If you do…”

“I know,” Johnny laughed and patted Scott’s back.  “You’ll find me and kick my ass all the way home.”

 “Damn right,” Scott laughed with tears in his eyes. “By the way, I’m still waiting.”

Johnny looked at him in confusion. “For what?”

“The letter you were supposed to write.”

Johnny chuckled and shook his head.  “Well, brother, you know me.  I’ve never been much at writing, but you have me now — you don’t need a letter.”

“You’re right.  You are better than a letter.”

Soon, the yard became crowded as more men, attracted by the sounds of gunfire and the fire bell, rode in from the range.  It wasn’t long before Val, Slade, and Bonner joined them.  Everyone gathered together, welcoming those who had been away for what felt like an eternity.

Johnny heard a deep, calm voice behind him. “Johnny.”

As he slowly turned, Johnny saw Murdoch, standing tall and strong.  The sight of his father took his breath away and stirred an emotion he hadn’t expected.  He felt his heart flutter, and a lump formed in his throat as tears welled up in his eyes.

He had imagined this moment countless times on the ride home.  He knew that seeing Scott, whole and healthy, would be emotional, but seeing Murdoch—God, he hadn’t realized until now how much he missed the man.

Scott put an arm around his brother’s shoulders and leaned in close to his ear.  “He’s been waiting a long time.” 

Johnny glanced at Val.  “Go on, hijo.  Don’t make him wait any longer.”

He could swear he could hear Molly’s voice, “When Murdoch was here, he told me he’d spent a lifetime waiting for you and your brother to come home.  He’s still waiting.  Don’t you think a lifetime is long enough for anyone to wait?”   

The crowded yard fell silent as everyone stepped back to watch the reunion.

Johnny’s face lit up with a smile.  He took a few steps, keeping his eyes fixed on Murdoch’s face, before stopping.  Lowering his head, he fought to hold back the tears.  When he looked up again, he saw his father crossing the distance between them in four long strides.

Murdoch wrapped his arms around his son and held him close.  “Johnny,” he whispered.

Relishing the bear hug, Johnny leaned his head against Murdoch’s chest and sighed.  “Papa.”

Murdoch’s cheek rested on his son’s head.  “I missed you, boy.”

“I missed you, too.”

There were no other words; they simply held each other.  Johnny pressed his ear to his father’s chest, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart.  Squeezing his eyes tight, he remembered how close he had come to losing this man; how a bullet had nearly silenced that reassuring rhythm.

Murdoch pushed him back, keeping him at arm’s length.  “Let me take a look at you.  You’re alright?”

Smiling, Johnny brushed away the tears in his eyes.  “I’m fine.”

“Of course you are.  You know, there were times I didn’t think you’d ever come home.”

“Truth, Murdoch.  There was a time or two I didn’t think I would.”

Murdoch tightened his grip on Johnny’s shoulders, his weathered hands steadying the young man as he looked into his eyes.  “But you did come home, and by God, you’re not leaving again.”

Murdoch wanted him—had always wanted him.  No matter what his mother told him, he knew better.  Even with everything Johnny put him through, his father never wavered in his support. 

Val was right; Murdoch accepted him as Johnny Madrid just as much as Johnny Lancer, and that made all the difference.  

Suddenly, everything became clear, and all his doubts and indecisions disappeared like fog lifting with the morning sun. Only a fool would walk away from all this, and Johnny Madrid Lancer was no fool.

---

The party that night celebrated Johnny’s return to Lancer; however, for him, it meant much more.  It marked the end of one chapter in his life—and in the lives of all the Lancers—and the start of a new one.

Teresa and Tate shared the news with the newcomers that another family member would be joining them soon.  Teresa made sure to tell Johnny, clearly and firmly, that she expected him to be there—to be the uncle who would teach and protect the little life she was bringing into the world.

As the evening started to wind down, Johnny quietly slipped away and stepped outside.  The expected rain had come and gone, leaving the air fresh and clean.  

He headed toward the corral, his boots making a soft crunch on the damp ground.  Pausing briefly, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the sweet scents around him.

As he looked out at the vast landscape of Lancer, a wave of emotion washed over him.  Too often in his short life, he had dreamed of a place like this.  Now, by God’s grace and Fate’s hand, he finally had a home to call his own.

He turned to glance back at the hacienda.  Through the French doors, he could see the silhouettes of the people inside.  One unmistakable figure stood out—Murdoch.

Lancer would always stand as Murdoch’s legacy, a realization of a dream for something greater.  It had taken him a lifetime to build, pouring his heart and soul into every brick and beam, each sun-drenched field, every stream, and every corner of the land—a testament to the man’s strength and resolve. 

For the first time, Johnny truly felt the weight of that legacy on his shoulders, knowing it would someday be passed to him and Scott.  Although Madrid was a part of him and always would be, he prayed that he could be the Lancer his father expected him to be.

Val and Molly were right; he was no longer alone on his journey.  He hadn’t been for some time, and far too much time had already been stolen from all of them. 

Nothing could bring back what they had lost, but one thing was certain: Johnny Madrid Lancer would move mountains if needed to make sure no one ever tried to tear this family apart again.

Johnny smiled as laughter drifted across the yard from the hacienda.  His thoughts turned to Val Crawford, Jack Slade, Jess Bonner, Larry Tate, and the countless other gunfighters who had stood by his side–men who proved to be not only loyal allies, but also protectors of his life, and of his family.

While history might paint a different picture, Johnny knew the true character of these men.  They were a product of a lawless land, living by their own code—fierce yet loyal—embodying a bond that went beyond the violence of their lives.  They were good and honorable, even if the nature of their profession suggested otherwise. 

Johnny Madrid had learned long ago that finding even one person to trust was as rare as gold dust in a dry riverbed, but… well, he’d been lucky.  He’d found not just one man but a band of loyal men—men of grit and unwavering resolve—who were ready to ride the river with him, facing whatever fate tossed their way.  

He felt a surge of pride swell inside him.  He knew there would be other rivers; there always were, and if needed, these men would stand by his side.  Together, they had formed a brotherhood as strong as the powerful currents they rode — their bond forever forged.  

End
August 2025

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