Madrid’s Army by SandySha

Word Count 60,068

Disclaimers: The usual. I don’t own them, sure wish I did. 
Warning: Madrid’s Army probably has more hurt and comfort in it than any story I’ve ever written. If you don’t like H/C stories, then please don’t read this one. 
Second Warning: A/R – Johnny is 18, and as usual in my stories is larger than life.  Another reason you may want to avoid the story.  I hope you’ll read it and at least give it a chance. 
Special thanks to Alice Marie, Susan, Diana, and Cathie for helping with the Beta

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3^rd in the ‘Riding the River’ Series

Struggling to control a myriad of emotions, Scott couldn’t stand to watch.  Turning his head away, he found that of all those emotions churning inside him, anger won out.  He couldn’t let this happen.  Steeling himself with clenched fists, he started to take a step forward only to feel Val’s grip tighten on his right arm.  It was a reminder that there was nothing he could do, and if he tried, he’d get them all killed. 

CRACK!

The sound echoed off the walls of the prison compound as the whip found its mark on the young man’s bare back.

Gasping as the tip of the lash rolled over his right shoulder, he felt his skin flay. A warm stream of blood ran down his chest and across his stomach.

Breath held; eyes pressed shut, he fought to control the pain.  With his arms stretched to posts on either side and high above him, his feet held him up, but barely.

CRACK!

His muscles tensed, waiting for the pain he knew was coming. When the whip wrapped around his chest, he gasped again and bit back a moan.

“Mestizo, it hurts, no?” Sanchez laughed.

CRACK!

This time the lash wrapped around his legs.  Arms were torn almost from their sockets and shoulder muscles screamed out in pain when Sanchez yanked the whip back, taking his legs with it.

CRACK!

The whip crossed the middle of his back.  With the intense pain, he couldn’t feel the blood running down his back and soaking into the top of his pants.

“Mestizo, you can make it stop,” Sanchez laughed again.   “You want the pain to stop?  Beg me to stop.”

“BEG!” Sanchez screamed.

The dark head of Sanchez’s victim raised.  Pain etched across his face for only a moment.   He looked straight ahead, his blue eyes locking with his brother’s.  The agony he saw in Scott’s eyes told him what his brother wanted him to do, but he couldn’t … not yet, maybe never. 

Johnny prayed Scott would forgive him.

Sanchez raised the whip again and then let it fall to his side when he saw the mestizo struggling to get his feet back under him.

A grin crossed Sanchez’s sadistic face, thinking he’d won. 

Drawing on the last of his strength, and in a voice that could only be that of Johnny Madrid, the words he screamed echoed off the prison walls.

“MADRID DON’T BEG.”

Sanchez shrieked as he raised the whip to strike again.

---

THREE WEEKS EARLIER

“Stop that,” Johnny laughed as Scott shoved him through the front door of the hacienda.

 “I didn’t push you.  I swear.”

“You did, little brother, and don’t deny it.”

Scott hit Johnny on the back with his hat, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

“Well, if I did, I didn’t mean it,” Johnny laughed.  “It was an accident.”

“I’m sure it was,” Scott shook his head.  

Johnny grabbed his older brother by the neck, pulled him down, and rubbed the top of his head.

Murdoch sat behind his desk and listened to the banter between the boys. A smile spread across his face as he watched them roughhousing. He knew he should say something, but he’d waited far too many years to hear their laughter fill the house.

Murdoch looked at his sons, marveling at their differences.

Scott, the oldest, raised in Boston by his grandfather, was given everything.  He was educated and could carry on a conversation in both French and English. Having served as an officer in the Union army during the war, Scott carried himself tall and erect.  The fair-skinned, blond hair boy had his mother’s light blue eyes as well as her temperament.

Johnny, younger in years, had raised himself from the age of eight.  A boy who became a man without ever having a childhood. Shorter than his brother, Johnny looked like his mother with rich tan skin and dark black hair.  The only exception was his eyes; his eyes were deep blue.  

Johnny grew up in Mexico and the border towns. At the age of 12, he’d killed his first man in a gunfight. Now he was well known throughout Mexico and the southwest as both savior and killer, depending on which side of the border you lived.

It had been five months since they’d come home—four months since they signed the partnership agreement making each of them one-third owners of Lancer.  Scott had settled in.  Johnny had not.

The biggest problem with Johnny was Murdoch’s inability to accept his youngest son’s former life.  It could be summed up in one word – Madrid.   

For so long, all he’d seen when he looked at Johnny was his mother. The boy was her spitting image, right down to the temper.  Maria’s actions had resulted in his little boy becoming a gunfighter.  Not just any gunfighter, but a notorious one.  The man who had come to live with him wasn’t Johnny Lancer; it was Johnny Madrid.

After what happened during the earthquake in Green River, Murdoch thought he’d gotten past any issues he had with the Madrid side of his son.  He quickly learned he hadn’t.    

They all remembered the night three months ago when Murdoch finally came to terms with his son’s alternate personality.

---

Murdoch Lancer had rules, a lot of rules.  One of those rules was dinner was served promptly at 6:00.  Another decree was that all of his family was to be seated by that time.  When Johnny wasn’t on time, Murdoch’s temper started to rise.

At 7:00, Johnny came through the front door.  Tired and hungry, he hung his hat on the hat rack and walked toward the kitchen. 

He’d started the day riding fence.  Later in the morning, he helped the hands gather strays.  Helping to move the herd to the new pasture at noon meant he missed eating lunch.   In the early afternoon, he’d checked the stream on the east range and cleaned it out.

Johnny started for home with plenty of time to get home by 6:00 when Barranca stumbled, and he found himself on the ground. After dusting himself off, he checked his horse and found a sprain to the horse’s right foreleg.  

An exhausted young man spent the next two hours of his day slowly walking the horse back to the barn.  Walking wasn’t something Johnny was used to doing, especially in riding boots.   The closer he got to home, the more his feet hurt.  Soon he realized he was limping as much as the horse.

Johnny was just about to enter the kitchen door when he heard those famous words, “You’re late!”

Murdoch’s voice left no room for misunderstanding.  He was mad… again.

“Yeah, I’m late. Would you….,” Johnny started to answer and explain.  He never got to finish the explanation.

Murdoch cut him off.

“Why can’t you do what you’re told to do?  Is it too much to ask that you be here on time for meals?”

“I would have been here on time if….,” Johnny once again tried to explain.

“Excuses,” Murdoch bellowed.  “Excuses are all you ever have.”

Johnny’s head shot up; his blood was boiling, and his temper flared.

“Excuses?  There is a difference between excuses and reasons, old man.  If you want to hear my reason for being late, I’ll tell you.  If not, I’m going to clean up and go to bed.” 

Johnny stood his ground.

Scott entered the room, hearing his brother’s last comment.  Seeing another fight was inevitable, he stepped in further. 

“You could at least hear him out, Sir.”

“Scott, your brother……”

“My brother, what, Sir?” Scott cut him off.  “Have you even stopped to look at my brother?  He’s obviously exhausted, and he’s limping.”

Johnny snorted, “Don’t matter, Boston.  He don’t care about nothing except a person doing exactly what he wants them to do and being where he wants them to be.   I’m too tired to fight about it tonight.”  He turned and started up the stairs.  “Night.”

“Don’t you walk away from me, young man,” Murdoch shouted.  “We’re not done.”

Johnny stopped and lowered his head, but when he turned around, his head was up and his eyes shooting daggers.

“You may not be, but I am,” he snapped.

Taking a breath, Johnny looked at his father, his features softened and emotions welled in his eyes.  “Murdoch, let me ask you a question.  What do you want from me?”

Murdoch stopped and looked at his son.  It was as if for the first time, he was seeing the young man that had been taken from him all those years ago. 

The tough Madrid persona was gone.  The man standing in front of him looked so…so vulnerable.

“What do I want?  I want my son.  I want John Lancer,” he answered softly.

“Murdoch, you know I’m standing right here.”

Johnny moved closer to his father and sat down on the arm of a chair, too tired to continue standing.

Murdoch looked at the man sitting in front of him, his own emotions conflicted. Was the man sitting in front of him the boy he’d lost all those years ago?

‘No, this isn’t the boy I lost.’  

“I’m not the little boy you lost, old man,” Johnny said as if reading Murdoch’s mind.  “That boy is long gone.  He died in those border towns years ago, my mother saw to that.  I’m all that’s left.  Good or bad.  Right or wrong.  Lancer or Madrid.  I’m all that’s left.  Can you live with that?”

Johnny took a breath. “I thought we were past this.  Now, I’m not so sure.  Why are you still trying so hard to push me away?  I’ve tried to do what you want me to do, be who you want, but I can’t do it.  I’m not Scott.

“God help me; I’ve changed my whole life to try to fit in here.  Do you know how hard this has been for me?  I haven’t had to answer to anyone for as long as I can remember.  I’ve always done what I wanted when I wanted.  The only rules I’ve ever lived by have been my own.”

“Johnny…,” Murdoch started but was cut off by his son.

“Where I come from, I’m respected for who I am and what I am,” he sighed, shaking his head.  “No one treats me like you’ve treated me.  If any other man tried, I would have shot him a long time ago.

“Murdoch, what do you see when you look at me?”  He looked into his father’s eyes.  “You don’t need to answer.  I know what you see.  You see my mother and you see Madrid.  You see everyone I’ve ever killed and every bad thing I’ve ever done.  You see everything and everyone, but me,” his voice still low and soft.  “Why can’t you see me?  Why can’t you see that I am your son? 

“Maybe it’s my fault.  Maybe, I should never have tried to change.  I should have moved on after Pardee was dead.  I fooled myself into believing you wanted me here.”

Johnny looked away, exhausted.  He tried to stand and slumped back down.

“I can’t keep doing this, old man.  I can’t keep fighting you and I won’t.  I can’t live like this anymore.  You’ve finally won – I’m done.” 

Johnny stood up as the French doors opened.

Walt walked in with his hat in his hand.   Johnny looked at him expectantly.

“Johnny just thought I’d let you know Barranca is going to be alright.   Good thing you walked him home slow.” 

“Thanks, Walt.” Johnny glanced at his father.  “Walt, would you do me a favor and saddle that bay gelding I’ve been working and let Barranca out in the pasture tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, Johnny,” Walt answered, looking between Johnny and Murdoch before leaving the room.  The hands had gotten used to the two men fighting.  Walt knew he’d walked into the middle of something he wanted nothing to do with.

Johnny stood up and turned, slowly going up the stairs.

Scott looked at his father.  “Murdoch, you need to stop him.”

“If he wants to leave, let him.  Better now than….,” Murdoch walked to the drink bar and poured a whiskey.

“Than what?   Before you start realizing how much he means to you?   Before he gets too attached to you?   You’re too late for that.  He cares for you and needs you more than he’s even willing to admit.  You have to stop him from leaving.”  In a last-ditch effort to spur Murdoch into action, Scott stated, “If he leaves, I’m going with him. Is that what you want?  You want both of us to leave?” 

Fifteen minutes later, Johnny moved slowly back down the stairs.  His saddlebags were over his shoulder and his rifle was in his left hand.

“So, you’re just going to run away like you always do?” Murdoch’s voice rose in pitch.

“No, old man, I’m not running away. I’m walking away.  I’m walking away before I do something both you and I are gonna regret.”  He started to turn back again and stopped himself. 

Johnny lowered his voice, his temper now gone.  All that was left was a young man who desperately wanted his father’s approval. 

“I’m giving you what you want.  I’m leaving.  You don’t have to worry about my third of this place.  You can have it.  I’ll be back for Barranca in a couple of days.  Give him time to heal up.”

Murdoch felt panic welling up inside him.  What was he doing?  Did he want to lose his son again?  Murdoch knew at that moment that if he didn’t act, he was going to lose more than one son.

His only thought was, ‘How do you know you love someone and have no idea how to tell them?’

“No!”  Murdoch was suddenly moving toward his son. His answer surprised even him.  “I don’t want you to leave. That’s the problem.  I want you here with me, with us.  I’m terrified one morning, I’ll wake up, and you’ll disappear like your mother.  I’m terrified that you’ll go into town and someone will call out Madrid, and you won’t come home.  I couldn’t handle losing you again.” 

Johnny looked at his father, suddenly realizing why Murdoch treated him the way he did.

“So, you’ve been pushing me away to see if I would leave?  Has it all been some kind of test?  At what point were you gonna realize I don’t want to leave here?”

He shook his head, setting his saddlebags and rifle down.  Walking across the room, he stopped and closed his eyes.  He turned around and stared at his father.

“Murdoch, I love this land.  It took me a while, but I know now this is where I belong.  Lancer is where I want to always come home to.  Hell, I know when I’ve got a good thing.  For the first time in my life, I have a home and a family.  I’ve got you and Scott and Teresa.” 

Johnny looked into his father’s eyes.  He couldn’t tell what the older man was thinking.  When Murdoch didn’t answer him, he knew he was wasting his breath.

“I know I was on Mama when you married her,” Johnny blurted out.  “Is that why you married her because she was pregnant?  Did you even love her?  You said that first day she left with me two years after you got married.  I was, what, 16, 17 months old.”

He lowered his head in his hands. 

“Did you ever love me, old man?  I mean back before mama took off?  At what point were you finally gonna let me know that…. that you still care, that you could love me again?  Do you still love me?”  Those last words were almost a whisper.  

“Still love you?  No, Johnny, you don’t understand. All the years I searched for you and all the nights I laid awake wondering if you were dead or alive, I never for one second stopped loving you. The one thing that never faltered was my love for you.”  

He moved closer and placed his hands on Johnny’s shoulders, only to have him pull away.

“And yes, I loved your mother.  I married her because I loved her and because she was carrying you.  I was overjoyed when I heard we were going to have a baby.  If she hadn’t been pregnant with you, we would still have married.  Maybe not as soon as we did, but I loved her, and I think at the time, she loved me.”    

Just for a brief moment, Murdoch felt his son move back into his grasp.

“Even after all these years, my heart ached for you.  My arms ached to hold you.  I never got that chance with your brother.”

Murdoch looked at Scott and saw the longing in his oldest son’s eyes.  Yes, he’d wanted to hold Scott as a baby.  He still cursed Harlan Garrett for taking his son from him.

Murdoch looked back at his youngest son.

“That first day you came home, you were so angry at me.  I didn’t know then that you thought I’d kicked you and your mother out.  All I could see that day was the anger and hate in your eyes.  I saw something else that day.  I saw a lost boy; my lost boy.  I wanted so much to pull you close and hold you.”

Johnny snorted, “Well, that would have got you shot for sure.”  

Looking into Murdoch’s eyes, Johnny knew the man was honest with him.  For the first time since coming home, he saw the truth.  

“You would have too,” Murdoch laughed.  “I’ve wanted both of my boys’ home for so long.  I dreamed of the day I would have you and Scott here.  I wanted to hold both of you that day, but we were strangers.  I mishandled everything and said all the wrong things.  I closed my heart down years ago, and I’ve been afraid to open it again.  I’ve been afraid of you leaving, and I’d have to endure the pain all over again.”

“Murdoch, I want to stay. I want a father and a brother,” Johnny said, looking at Scott.

“The one thing you need to understand is that I’m more than Johnny Lancer.  I’m also Johnny Madrid.  I can’t change that; I don’t want to change that.  I’ve been Madrid for so long I don’t think I could live without that part of me.  Madrid has kept me alive.

“Can you live with knowing what that part of me could mean someday?  I don’t want any of you hurt because of who I am.  Can you handle knowing that there aren’t two of me?  There is only one person with two names.”

Murdoch sighed, “I think I can come to an understanding with …”  Murdoch hesitated.

“Say it, old man.  Say my name.  If you can’t even say the name, then I might as well walk out that door right now.”

“You’re right.  I can come to an understanding with Mr. Madrid if he lets me.  I certainly can’t hate him.  He kept you alive when I couldn’t be there for you.  I can’t hate Madrid without hating you, and you young man I could never hate.”

Murdoch stepped closer and put his arms around his son.

“Don’t go.  I wish I could make you understand how much I want you to stay, how much love you.”

Johnny laid his head against his father’s chest, put his arms around his waist and held on tight.  The emotions he’d kept in finally spilled out.  Murdoch could feel Johnny’s warm tears through his shirt. 

“We’ll get there, son.”  He pulled his youngest closer and started rubbing his back in gentle circles. “We’ll get there.  I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you.  I suppose I need to learn to be a father as much as you need to learn to be a son.”   

Murdoch stood there for a few minutes, continuing to rub Johnny’s back, when he realized the boy had started to fall asleep in his arms.

“John, why don’t you go upstairs and get into bed?  I’ll bring your things up in a little while.  Scott, go tell Walt to unsaddle Johnny’s horse.”

Johnny raised his head and just nodded.  “You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my entire life,” Murdoch smiled, looking into his son’s blue eyes.

Johnny pulled away and stood up.  Moving to the stairs, it seemed that all he could do was to put one foot in front of the other.   When he got to his room, Johnny quickly undressed, leaving his clothes where they fell and climbed into bed.

He barely heard the door open as Murdoch entered.   Large hands pulled the covers closer to his chin and tucked the blankets around him.  He then felt the one thing he’d longed for his entire life, his father’s kiss on his forehead.

Johnny smiled and snuggled into his pillow.      

Things would change after that night.  The three of them had finally started to become a family.

---

Murdoch watched his sons coming into the house.  It warmed his heart to see them together.  He finally had the family he’d longed for.

Seeing Murdoch at his desk, the two young men came to a halt as they entered the Great Room.

“Hey, Murdoch.”  Johnny had a mischievous grin.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” Scott chimed in with a smile.

“Scott. Johnny,” Murdoch responded.  “Since you’re both back early, I assume the creek on the north pasture has been cleared?”

“Yes, sir,” Scott answered.  “It wasn’t bad.  It just had some fallen trees; we were able to clear it fairly quickly.”

Johnny didn’t say anything; just nodded in agreement.

“John?” Murdoch cocked his head and looked at his youngest.  He could see the mischief in the young man’s eyes.

“Yes, sir,” Johnny answered, lowering his head and looking sideways at his brother.  

“You seem very quiet. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No,” Johnny answered quickly with his head still lowered. “Not really.”  

“I thought I heard something about pushing your brother.”

“Didn’t … well, didn’t mean to push him.  It was kinda’ an accident,” Johnny quickly added.  

“I’m listening.” Murdoch stood and moved around to the front of the desk. 

“It really was an accident, Murdoch.” Scott jumped to his brother’s defense.

“Let Johnny tell me.” Murdoch crossed his arms across his chest.

Johnny raised his head and looked at his father. 

“It was nothing. We had all the trees and brush cleared out of the creek.”  Johnny hesitated.

“Go on.”

“Well, I was helping Scott out of the creek, but I kinda’ lost my grip on him and he fell back into the water.”

Scott looked at his brother.  “You lost your grip?  Johnny, admit it, you gave me a little push.”

“Well, maybe, but you sure looked like you liked that water after you were in it.”

“I assume you joined your brother in the creek?” Murdoch smiled at the young man.

“Well. I figured what the heck, so I jumped in.  You know I had to save him,” Johnny laughed after seeing the smile on Murdoch’s face.

“Alright, why don’t you two go get cleaned.  Dinner will be ready soon.”

Murdoch turned back to his desk as the two men went upstairs.  He could hear them bantering.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Scott grabbed Johnny around the neck. “You pushed me.”

“Yeah, I did, but I did come in after you, didn’t I?”

---

At 6:00 precisely, dinner was served.  The room was filled with laughter as Scott retold his tale and Johnny reluctantly agreed with his brother’s account of the events of the day.   

After dinner, the Lancers settled in the Great Room in front of the fireplace.  Murdoch poured drinks for himself and his sons.  He gave Scott a glass of sipping whiskey and Johnny a glass of tequila, before sitting down in his favorite chair. 

“This is real nice,” Johnny said as he settled on the floor with his back to the sofa.

“Yes, it is,” Murdoch agreed.  

Johnny sat up quickly and looked toward the front door.  Murdoch and Scott looked at him, knowing he’d heard something.  They’d learned over the past few months never to dismiss the young man’s senses, especially his hearing.

Johnny sat his glass down and jumped to his feet while, out of instinct, reaching to his hip.

Remembering his gun was near the front door, he wished he hadn’t followed another of Murdoch’s rule – never wear a gun in the house.

“John?” Murdoch saw the young man’s movement as he reached for the gun that wasn’t there.

“Someone’s outside,” Johnny replied quietly.  “I heard a horse, but no one is coming to the door.”

Johnny moved to the door and grabbed his gun belt.  Putting it on, he lifted his gun from the holster.

Scott and Murdoch followed Johnny to the door.  They were reaching for their guns when a knock on the door made them both jump.

Johnny opened the door with a jerk, gun drawn.

“Whoa, amigo,” Val said with both hands in the air, “it’s just me.”

“Val!” Johnny yelled, lowering his gun. “I thought someone was trying to sneak up on us.  You’ve been standing out there long enough.”

“Sorry. I was just trying to work up the courage to come on in.”

“Sheriff Crawford,” Murdoch said, moving to stand by Johnny, “what brings you out here this late?”

Val looked up at Murdoch.  His 5 foot 11 inches not coming anywhere near Murdoch’s 6-foot 5-inch height.  

‘Damn, that man sure is tall,’ Val thought, not for the first time. 

“Can I come in Mr. Lancer?  I need to talk to Johnny for a minute if it’s alright with you.”

Murdoch stepped aside and waved the sheriff into the Great Room.

“Of course.”

“Scott,” Val nodded when he saw Scott standing behind Murdoch.  

“Val,” Scott responded, “would you care for a drink?”

“Whiskey, if you have it.”

Val walked toward the fireplace, placing his hat on the table behind the sofa as he went.

Johnny re-holstered his gun.

“Val, you said you want to talk to me?  Is something wrong in town?”

“No, nothing like that,” Val answered as he took his drink from Scott.  

“Do you want to be alone?” Murdoch asked.

“No, Mr. Lancer.”  Val took a sip of his drink before speaking again, “I guess this concerns you too, so if you don’t mind, I’d like you to stay.”

“What’s the problem?” Scott asked, retaking his seat.

Val looked at Murdoch and Scott and then back to Johnny.  He knew what he was about to ask was not going to be easy.  He sighed and took a drink of his whiskey.  

“Get it said, Val,” Johnny said, knowing his friend was stalling.

“I got a telegram from Juarez today.  You remember Joe Worthington’s wife, Molly?”

“I remember Joe and Molly,” Johnny answered.  “We helped him with that range war a couple of years back.  There weren’t anywhere near Juarez though.  Their ranch is in Arizona north of Nogales.”

Val nodded.

“Yeah, I know.  Molly telegraphed me from Juarez; she was on her way home.  It looks like Joe’s in trouble and he needs help.   Molly asked if I… we’d come down there.  It seems like Joe was in Mexico and got into some trouble with the Rurales.  He’s in prison about a two-day ride south of Juarez in Chihuahua.  You know the one?”

Johnny paled and turned away from his friend.  He wrapped his arms around his chest.  “I know the one,” Johnny said softly. 

“You’re talking about Reverend Barn’s mother and father, aren’t you?” Scott spoke up.

Val nodded.  “Yeah, that’s them.”

“John,” Murdoch started to move to his son’s side and stopped himself.  Murdoch also knew which prison they were talking about.  It was the prison Johnny had been in just before a firing squad would have taken his son from him for good.

“What…what do you have in mind, Val?” Johnny asked, turning back to his friend.

“I was thinking of going down there and breaking him out.”

“Sheriff, are you saying you want Johnny to go back to Mexico with you and get this man out of that hell hole?”

Murdoch was shaking his head.

Scott jumped to his feet.

“You know Johnny isn’t safe in Mexico.”

“I know Johnny Madrid ain’t safe down there,” Val answered, “but John Lancer is another story.”

“And don’t you think someone will recognize him?” Murdoch’s voice was rising.  “It’s only been a few months.  No.  No.  I forbid it.  I just got my son back.  I will not lose him again.”

“Mr. Lancer, I wouldn’t even ask, but ….” Val had started to say when he was cut off.

“Not your call,” Johnny spoke up, his voice soft and low.  The three men jumped at the sound of it.  They looked around at Johnny as his right hand settled on the butt of his gun.  When they looked into his face, all three knew Johnny Lancer was gone.  They were now looking at Johnny Madrid.  “Not your call, old man.  I owe Joe Worthington, and so does Val.”

“John, you know…” Murdoch started to say.

“I know.  I know all too well.  I spent over three months in that hell hole,” Johnny almost yelled the words.  He took a deep breath before lowering his voice. “I can’t let a friend die in that place without trying to help him.”  Johnny looked at his friend. “Val, what’s your plan?”

Val looked at Murdoch and Scott.  He knew that with Madrid in the room, there was only one person he was going to talk to.  “I thought we’d go down and meet Molly at the ranch, get all the information we can, and then figure out the plan from there.”

“When do you want to leave?” Johnny asked as he nodded in agreement.

“In the morning. That alright with you?”

Johnny nodded again.

“Johnny, you can’t go down there dressed like Madrid,” Val stated.  “You show up in that red shirt, and everyone’s gonna know who you are.  You need to go dressed like a rancher, not a gunhawk.”

“Guess I could dress down for the event,” Johnny laughed.

“This is not a laughing matter, young man,” Murdoch groaned.  “You know what they will do to you if they catch you again?”

“Guess they better not catch me then,” Johnny answered seriously.

“I’m coming too,” Scott blurted out. 

“Scott,” Murdoch turned on the man.  “No. If something should happen to both of you….”

“You don’t think I’m going to let my little brother go into Mexico without someone else there to watch his back, do you?”

Murdoch hung his head in defeat. 

Turning to Johnny, Scott smiled. “Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

Johnny looked at his brother.   As much as he didn’t want Scott with them, he felt relief that his big brother was going to be by his side. 

Johnny turned to his friend.

“Val, we’ll meet you in town early in the morning.  Telegraph Molly that we’re coming, but don’t mention any names.”

“Gracias, amigo.”

Val sat his glass down and picked up his hat.  He was out the door before anyone could say another word.

“Well?” Scott asked, turning back to Johnny.

“We ride out in the morning.  Take only what you need.  A change of clothes and your shaving gear.  We’ll get supplies in the morning.” 

Both young men turned to their father, who had returned to his chair in front of the fireplace.

“There’s nothing I can do to change your minds, is there?”  Murdoch looked up at his sons.  He saw Johnny Madrid vanished from his youngest son’s face, and Johnny Lancer was back.  “You know I hate this.”

“We’ll be home soon, Sir,” Scott said, moving to his father and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll take care of Scott, Murdoch.”  Johnny moved to the other side of his father and placing a hand on the other shoulder.  “I’ll make sure he comes home to you.”

“I want both of my sons’ home.  Do you hear that, John?  You make sure both of you come home,” Murdoch answered, placing a hand on top of each of his son’s hands.

---

Johnny went to his room. Stepping inside, he closed the door and leaned against it before sliding to the floor.

‘What am I doing?’

Johnny knew he owed Joe Worthington and was willing to do whatever was necessary to help him, but now he was putting Scott’s life on the line.  On top of that, he was going back to Mexico.  The image of standing in front of the firing squad sent a chill up his spine.  He quickly pushed the thought away.

Johnny looked around his room.  There wasn’t much to see.  He hadn’t gotten used to being in one place for this long.  Seeing his saddlebags in the corner, he pushed up off the floor and picked up the bags.  Taking them to the bed, he dumped the contents out and laughed.  He’d never unpacked them.

Johnny turned to the dresser. Opening a drawer, he looked at his redshirt.  No, that would have to stay here.  He chose two of his green work shirts, one to wear and one to pack.  He also picked up a white shirt.  He looked at his pants.  He had on his calzoneras with the silver conchos down the side.   These would have to be left behind also.  He chose two pairs of black work pants.   He took his silver spurs off his boots and dropped them in a drawer next to his silver concho belt.  

Next, Johnny went to the wardrobe and lifted out his bolero jacket.  He looked at it and put it back.  It wouldn’t fit in with the clothing he was taking.  It was only the middle of September.  They were going to Mexico, and he didn’t figure they would need heavy coats this time of the year.  He would check with Scott to see if he had a jacket he could borrow.

As he turned to re-pack his saddlebags, he lifted his shaving gear. He would take it, but he planned to let his beard grow out on this trip.

He was no fool.  He didn’t believe he would come out of this without being hurt.  He put rolls of bandages at the bottom of the bag and a second clean white shirt he could use if needed for more.  There was a tin of salve to put on cuts, two extra pairs of socks which he pushed to the bottom, and an extra knife.  His coffee pot and cup were still in the bag.  

Reaching into the back of one of the drawers, he pulled out his working gun and holster.  He’d stopped wearing his working gun months ago.  The one he wore daily was his back up piece. 

He took a deep breath and pulled the modified Colt from the holster running ran his hand lovingly over the barrel of the gun that had made him Johnny Madrid.  He hoped he wouldn’t need the pistol on this trip, but wanted to make sure he had it just in case. Wrapping the working gun in one of his shirts, he placed it into the saddlebags.

Checking his money, he was satisfied there were both pesos and dollars in the money pouch.  

After the saddlebags were packed, Johnny turned to the window and looked out.  He was going to miss this view.  There was something about the land that got into your blood.  It hadn’t taken him long to figure out Lancer was the one place on earth he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

Slowly unbuttoning his shirt, Johnny laid it over the back of a chair and then slid his pants off, tossing them on the floor.  He slipped between the fresh, crisp sheets of his bed.  It was going to be a long time before he would feel this soft bed again.

---

Johnny stretched with the first light of morning, surprised he’d slept.  After his morning routine, he quickly dressed in a green work shirt and black pants and strapped on a pair of worn work spurs.

Before leaving the room, Johnny looked around one last time to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.  Walking over to the dresser, he picked up the watch Murdoch had given him.  It wouldn’t be going with him.  Gently fingering the timepiece, he laid it back down. 

Once downstairs, Johnny went to the dining room.  Finding a pot of hot coffee sitting on the table, he poured a cup and waited for Scott to come down.  Murdoch walked out of the kitchen holding two plates. 

“I fixed your breakfast.”  Murdoch handed Johnny a plate.  

“Thanks,” Johnny said, looking into his father’s eyes. 

“You both need to eat before you leave.” Murdoch couldn’t take his eyes off his son.

Neither moved or said anything as their eyes stayed fixed on the other.

Scott came down the stairs breaking the moment.  He sat his saddlebags and rifle down. Looking at Johnny, Scott couldn’t help but comment on the lack of flare to his brother’s clothes.

“Brother, you look absolutely ordinary.”

Murdoch handed a plate to his oldest son.

“That’s the idea, Boston,” Johnny smiled.  “By the way, while we’re in Mexico, I don’t want you using the name Lancer.  I want you to go by the name of Scott Garrett.” 

“Why?”

Scott took a bite of his breakfast and glanced at Murdoch.  He knew their father had the same question.

“If I’m going as John Lancer, I don’t want anyone to know you’re my brother.  It will be safer for both of us.”

Scott just nodded.  “Whatever you say, brother, this is your show.”

“Scott…,” Johnny started and then stopped.  He would talk to Scott later about calling him brother.

While Scott ate, Johnny asked to see inside his saddlebags.   Johnny went through the things and nodded his approval.  

“You need to get some bandages and salve from the medicine closet. Then we can put some supplies in here.  We also need bullets for both your Winchester and Colt.  I have fishing line and hooks in my saddlebag.  You may want to get some for your bag.  I need two boxes of bullets for my Colt.”

“Why do we need fishing line?”

“It’s good for more than fishing, Boston.  Never know when you may need to sew someone up.”

Scott almost choked on his eggs before he could swallow them. 

“I’ll go saddle the horses.” Scott stood and turned to the door.  “You eat your breakfast.”

“We’re not taking Barranca and Remmie,” Johnny said, looking at his brother, “pick out two of the other horses.  If something happens and we have to get away quick, I don’t want to leave Barranca or Remmie in Mexico.  Oh, and do you have a light jacket I can borrow?”

Scott nodded and went back upstairs

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Murdoch asked.

“I’m not really hungry.”

“You have to eat something.”  Murdoch sighed.  “I’ll fix you something to take with you.  You’ll be hungry later.”

Johnny smiled.  “Thanks.”

Scott returned a few minutes later with a jacket he thought his brother could wear.  Johnny put the jacket on and looked to Scott for approval.

“It’s a little big on you, but you can roll the cuffs up.”

While Scott saddled the horses, Johnny jammed the remaining space in the saddlebags with jerky, coffee, flour, cornmeal, and beans.  He filled two canteens for each of them.

Finally, they were ready.

Scott re-entered the house.  Both men put on their gun belts then picked up their saddlebags, bedrolls, and rifles before turning to Murdoch. 

Murdoch walked to his desk and picked up two envelopes.

“Some extra money.”  He handed one envelope to each of them.

Johnny opened his envelope to see two hundred dollars.  “Thanks.”

As Johnny put the money in the pouch he kept in his boot, Scott folded his envelope and slipped it in his pocket.

“Well, we’d better get going.”  Johnny’s gaze fell to the floor.  Saying goodbye to Murdoch was harder than he thought.

“Be safe,” Murdoch said to both of his sons.  He walked over to them and put a hand behind each of their necks and pulled them to him.  Johnny took an extra step forward and put a hand behind Murdoch’s neck.  He laid his forehead on his father’s chest.

“We’ll see you soon, old man,” Johnny softly said as he stepped back and turned away.

“Watch him, son.” Murdoch’s eyes met his oldest son’s.

“I will and don’t worry.  I wouldn’t be much of a big brother if I didn’t watch out for him.  I’ll bring the boy home, and in one piece,” Scott smiled.

As the mounted to leave, Murdoch looked at his youngest son. “Hurry back soon, John.”

“I plan to.  You take care of things here.  We’ll be seeing you.”

The two brothers rode out slowly until they were at the arch.  Together they looked back to see Murdoch still standing in front of the hacienda.  They looked at each other and then spurred the horses on.

---

Johnny and Scott met Val in Green River an hour after riding under the Lancer arch.  They planned to travel south to San Diego and then take the border trail east to Nogales.

Val had sent a telegram to Molly Worthington, telling her that he was on his way and that he was bringing help.  He made sure he didn’t mention any names.  He was sure Molly would know who he was going to bring along.

The three men made good time getting to San Diego and spent an extra day there resting before they started east to Nogales.

When they left Green River, there was talking and banter between the three of them.  The closer they got to the border the quieter Johnny got.  Neither Scott nor Val pushed Johnny into conversations.  They both figured he would talk to them when he was ready. 

The trip to Nogales was quiet in more ways than the one.  To everyone’s relief, that no one had recognized Johnny in any of the border towns.  If anyone did know him, they kept quiet about it, wanting nothing to do with Madrid. 

Rancho Worthington lay just north of the border above Nogales.  It had been over two years since Johnny and Val had last been there.  Helping the Worthington’s had been one of the last jobs the two of them worked together before Val retired from the game.

It was in the last battle of the short war that both Johnny and Val were wounded.  Val was the first to fall.  As Johnny made his way to his friend’s side, he’d felt a burn in his chest.

Joe and Molly had taken care of them until they were back on their feet.  Val’s shoulder wound kept him confined to bed for a week.  It was Johnny’s chest wound that had resulted in fever consuming him for almost two weeks.  It had taken another three weeks before Johnny was strong enough to ride again.  Neither man forgot the debt they owed the Worthington’s.

---

It was three exhausted and dirty men that rode into Rancho Worthington ten days after leaving Green River.

Molly Worthington met them with a smile and open arms.

“My word, Johnny,” Molly smiled at the heavily bearded man in front of her.  “I wouldn’t have recognized you.  You’ve grown some.”  

Johnny had stopped shaving shortly after leaving Green River.  At first, his appearance hadn’t changed that much.  As the days wore on and the beard filled in, even Scott had to admit that the man they rode with looked nothing like either Johnny Madrid or Johnny Lancer.

“Molly, it’s good to see you.” Johnny accepted the hug she gave him.  “It’s Lancer now, Molly.  John Lancer.  That’s the name I go by and want to make sure you use it.  You okay with that?”

Molly only nodded.

“What about me, Molly?  Am I as good looking as always?” Val asked, grinning.

“Val, you look the way you always did,” she laughed and hugged him. “Now, who is this young man?”  Molly turned to Scott.

Johnny jumped in, “His names Scott Garrett, Molly.  He’s here to help us get Joe back.”

Both Val and Scott looked at Johnny, but neither said anything.

“Well, come on in after you get your horses settled.  I have dinner almost ready.”  

There was a small skip in Molly’s step as she turned to the house.

“What was that all about?” Val asked as they led their horses to the barn.    

Johnny looked around the yard.  A few of the Worthington vaqueros were milling around wondering about the strangers.  He remembered some of the faces.  He just hoped he had changed enough that they didn’t recognize him.

“Just want to make sure word that we’re here doesn’t get back to anyone in Mexico,” Johnny said in a hushed tone.  “Don’t trust anyone, but us.”

“Even Molly?” Scott asked.  

“This is a different world, Scott.  Molly wouldn’t intentionally give us away, but even one slight slip of the tongue.”

Scott and Val nodded their understanding.

The next morning it was decided that Scott and Val would ride into Nogales and send a telegram to Murdoch.   Johnny stayed behind, not wanting to risk someone recognizing him in town. 

As Scott and Val started to ride out of the ranch, Johnny stopped his brother.  

“Scott, can you tell the old man… well tell him,” Johnny blushed as his boot kicked the ground, “tell him I love him. Would you?”

“I can do that,” Scott smiled, watching his little brother’s ears turn red.

---

Murdoch sat at his desk, looking toward the arch.

He sighed and took a deep breath.  The last time he’d heard from his sons was five days ago when they were in San Diego.

Rubbing his forehead, he leaned back in his chair.  He was worried about the boys. He’d been worried since the moment they rode away eleven days ago.  It wasn’t helping that he wasn’t sleeping well.   He’d started having nightmares that first night and they hadn’t stopped since. 

Murdoch heard the front door open and then slammed shut.

“Patron!”  Cipriano hurried into the room.

“Slow down.” Murdoch jumped up from his chair. “What’s wrong?”

“There is a message from Senor Scott. It is from Nogales.” 

“Go on, man, tell me.”  Murdoch wanted to shake the information from the Segundo.

Cipriano handed a telegram to Murdoch.  It was evident Cipriano had already read it.

Murdoch Lancer
Lancer Ranch
Morro Coyo, California

Arrived Nogales. STOP. Going to Juarez next. STOP.  Will wire you when we are back in Nogales.  STOP.  J sends love. STOP. As do I. STOP.

Scott

Murdoch sat the telegram down, noticing it was sent that morning.

“J sends love,” he repeated the words.   The son who hides his feelings at all costs had just expressed his love in a telegram. 

The nightmare he’d experienced the night before rushed back at him.  The image of his youngest son lying in the desert with blood covering his back sent a shiver through him.  A foreboding like none he’d ever experienced, overwhelmed him.   

“Cipriano, I want you and four men to come with me.  We’re taking the stage from Green River tomorrow.” Murdoch sat down at his desk and wrote out a message.  “Send a man into town to send this telegram.”

“Where do we go, Patron?” Cipriano asked as he took the handwritten message from his Patron.

“Nogales,” Murdoch called over his shoulder as he turned. “We’re going to be there when they get back.  I want to make sure my sons get home.”

---

Johnny, Scott, and Val spent two days getting as much information from Molly as they could.

It seems that one day three months earlier, Joe followed cattle rustlers across the border.  Somehow the rustlers were able to convince the Rurales that it was Joe who was the rustler.

It took her over a month to find out where Joe was.  Then another month to get to see him.  He’d managed to get word to Molly, who, in turn, had gone to Mexico to defend her husband.  There had been no real trial and the next thing Molly knew Joe was in prison for 20 years.  She got to see him one time before they locked him up.  He told her to contact Val, knowing Val would know what to do.

Molly said she had loyal men working for them.  Some of their vaqueros would do anything for her husband.  In the end, the three men had worked out a plan to break Joe out, but there was one small problem.  One of them would have to go into the prison in advance.  It wasn’t hard to figure out who that was going to be.

Molly had just put breakfast on the table when one of her vaqueros rode in.  He handed her a telegram.   Molly read the cable and then turned to Johnny. 

“Do you know a Murdoch Lancer,” Molly asked, handing the telegram to Johnny.

Johnny read the telegram and handed it to Scott.

Molly Worthington
Rancho Worthington
Nogales, Arizona Territory

Will be taking stage from California in the morning. STOP.  Will arrive Nogales within a week. STOP.  Tell J and S I love them too.  STOP.

Murdoch Lancer

“Yeah, Molly, Murdoch’s my father,” Johnny answered with a grin on his face.  “This was sent yesterday.  He’s already on his way.  Guess he missed us.”

Johnny handed the telegram to Scott.  Once he’d read it, he looked at his brother with the same wide grin.

“He must really love you, Johnny, to be coming all this way,” Molly smiled, watching Johnny and Scott exchange glances.   “Johnny, is there something you aren’t telling me.”

Johnny thought for a few seconds.  “Molly, Scott’s my brother.  His name isn’t Garrett; it’s Lancer.  You have to make sure no one knows.  Scott could be in a lot of danger if anyone finds out he’s my brother.”

“Don’t worry,” Molly smiled. “Guess that Pa of yours is coming for both his sons.”

“Molly, when he gets here, you make sure he stays with you.  I don’t want him coming after us.”

Scott slapped Johnny in the stomach and laughed.  “Come on, let’s eat.”

---

The next day the three men decided it was time to put their plan in motion.  They would travel east along the border to El Paso and then cut south, crossing the border at Juarez.   Once in Mexico, they’d continue heading south into Chihuahua.  The prison was two days south of Juarez near the town of Nuevo Casa Granda.

They spent the night in El Paso and started early the next morning.  As they prepared to cross the Rio Grande, Scott and Val pushed their horses into the water.  They stopped and looked back to see Johnny still sitting on the American side of the river.  

Johnny’s head was down, and his shoulders slumped.  Every nerve in his body told him not to cross the river.  He wanted to scream and ride as fast as he could toward California.

Scott and Val turned around and rode back to Johnny.

“Amigo, we don’t have to do this,” Val said, looking at his friend.  “We can find another way.”

Scott knew his brother well enough to know he was scared to cross the river.  He had barely made it out alive the last time he’d been in Mexico.

“Just give me a minute.”

Johnny was working to control his emotions.  He hadn’t wanted to bring Madrid with him on this trip, but he now knew there was no other way.  It was Madrid that kept Johnny Lancer alive and safe.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  Digging deep into himself, he found what he needed.  He may not have looked like Johnny Madrid at that moment, but he was about to become him.

He lifted his head and looked into his brother’s eyes.  It surprised him how easy it was to bring Madrid to the surface.

“Sorry, Scott, Val,” Johnny said softly.  “Until we cross this river going home there is no other way.”

Neither man knew what he meant until they saw his eyes harden and grow dark.  At that moment, they knew that Johnny Madrid was going to be riding with them into Mexico and wouldn’t leave until they headed home again.

Johnny spurred the horse into the water and led them to the other side.  Once in Mexico, they rode south toward the prison.

---

Two vaqueros sat on the Mexican side of the river and watched as the two gringos and a Mexican crossed the Rio Grande.  They nodded to each other and started following the men deeper into Mexico.

---

Two days later, Johnny, Scott, and Val sat on a ridge overlooking the Chihuahua Prison.

“Looks like a real homey place,” Val commented with a sneer.

“Real homey,” Johnny replied with no emotion in his voice.   For two days Val and Scott had lived with Madrid and only Madrid.  Both would be glad when they crossed the Rio Grande again.

“There’s a small village just to the north of the prison.  That’s where we go next,” Johnny said.

“You think Molly’s men are going to be there already?” Scott asked.

“Hope so,” Johnny answered, “I want to get this over with and get out of Mexico.”

They rode slowly to the village.  Once on the outskirts, Johnny told Val and Scott to swing around and come in from the south side, he would come in from the north. Scott reached out and squeezed his brothers’ arm.   Johnny looked back at him and just nodded.

As they rode, Scott looked over at Val.

“I miss my brother, Val.  I want him back.”

“I miss him too, Scott, but we both know that what Johnny is doing is blocking out everything that could get him killed.  If that means you and me too, then so be it.”

Val watched Johnny ride ahead of him.  He knew how Johnny was when he let Madrid take over. 

The little village didn’t have a name.  It was nothing more than a few buildings that serviced the prison.  The buildings were old and crumbling.  A dense layer of dust covered everything. The only structure that showed any life at all was the cantina.

Scott and Val tied up in front of the cantina and walked in.  They chose a table near the door and ordered two beers.

Scott took a sip of his beer and almost gagged.  It was warm and had a terrible taste to it.  He looked at Val, who just shrugged.   

“This is about as good as it gets around here,” Val said as he took a sip of his beer and frowned.  “Tastes a lot like horse piss, don’t it?”

Scott almost laughed until he gave the comment some thought.  He sniffed the glass and sat it back down.

“Yes, it does,” Scott replied grimly, “and it smells like it too.”  He couldn’t force himself to take another sip.

An hour later, the batwing doors of the cantina slowly opened, and Johnny stood in the doorway, scanning the room.  He had his hat pulled down over his eyes as he walked to the bar. 

“Tequila.”

The bartender gave the bearded stranger an appraising look and poured a shot of tequila in what looked to be a dirty glass.  Turning to put the bottle behind the bar, he was stopped by the words “leave the bottle.”

The bartender slid the bottle in front of the man and glanced down at the gun on his hip.

Johnny took the bottle and a glass and walked to a corner table where he could see the entire bar. Careful not to look at Val and Scott, he poured a drink and knocked it down in one gulp.  Pouring another drink, he set the glass on the table in front of him.  He toyed with the glass, never touching the liquid inside. 

A faint smile was hidden from Johnny’s face when he glanced back at the bartender.  He was sure the bartender recognized him. Now all he had to do was wait.

Another hour passed before the doors opened again.  Two vaqueros walked in and went straight to the bar.  They ordered tequila and then chose a table near Scott and Val. 

Watching the two men closely, he suspected they were the two who’d been following them since crossing the Rio Grande.  

Johnny pushed back from the table and stood, taking the bottle with him. Again, careful not to look at Scott or Val, he paid for the tequila and walked out of the cantina into the cool night air.  Once outside, Johnny scanned the street before putting the bottle in his saddlebags.  Mounting, he rode out the way he’d come.

Johnny rode out a short distance, reined his horse around, and waited.  Another half-hour passed before he heard horses approaching.  He was relieved to see Scott and Val ride up.

“Anything happen after I left?” Johnny asked.

“No,” Val answered.  “Those two vaqueros stayed another 15 minutes, and then they left also.  We waited a while longer, and we left.”

“Alright, let’s get back to camp.”  Not waiting for a response, Johnny turned his horse west.

That afternoon, before going to the village, they’d found a spot to set up camp.  It was a 30-minute walk to the prison.  The place fit their needs perfectly.  It was hidden from view by a low rise, so no one from a distance would be able to see the camp.  There was plenty of scrub grass for gracing and a small spring provided much needed water for the horses. 

Once they were back at camp, Johnny stepped down from the saddle and started to bed his horse down.

“What was the purpose of that?” Scott asked as he also stepped out of the saddle.

“Just to be seen, Boston,” Johnny answered.   “We do it again tomorrow night and the next, if necessary.  I expect the Rurales to be there next time I’m there.”

“You think the bartender recognized you?” Scott asked with concern in his voice.

“I’d bet on it. I remember him.  The little weasel is known for turning men in.”

“Johnny, I don’t like this.  We gotta’ find another way,” Val spoke up.

“Ain’t no other way, Val.  We just have to make sure everything falls into place.  Once I get into that hell hole, I don’t want to spend any more time in there than I have to,” Johnny replied with a visible shiver.  “This has to be timed right. Otherwise, we’re all gonna be dead.”

Val snorted, “Hell, Johnny, when have you and I ever had a plan that worked the way it was supposed to. Sure, it worked out, but I can’t remember one ever going like we planned it.”

“You do have a point,” Johnny smiled and shook his head.

Johnny threw his bedroll down and stretched out in front of the fire.  He watched as Val and Scott did the same.  It wasn’t long before sleep claimed him. 

---

Shortly after midnight, Johnny shook Val and Scott awake. 

“It’s time.”

Scott struggled to his feet, wiping the sleep from his eyes.  Looking at Val, he could see the older man was also fighting to wake up.

Johnny looked at the two men.

“Well, you ready.”

“No,” Val grumbled.

The three men made their way on foot toward the prison.  Once there, Scott lay on the ridge overlooking the structure with his rifle at the ready.  He covered his brother and Val as they made their way toward the prison walls.

Johnny quickly and quietly planted dynamite charges around the perimeter of the prison.  Once done, Val and Johnny made their way back up the hill to where Scott waited.

“Let’s get out of here,” Johnny whispered as he helped Scott up and started back to camp.

“Glad that’s done,” Val said as he stretched out in his bedroll again “Now, it’s up to Molly’s men to set them off at the right time, and we all get the hell out of here.”

Johnny sat by the low fire standing guard for the rest of the night.  He wasn’t looking forward to the following night.  Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he looked over to see that his brother was already asleep.  Smiling, he got up and raised the blanket over the sleeping man’s shoulders.  Johnny let his hand linger on Scott’s shoulder for a few moments, relishing the contact between him and his brother.  

The next day they worked on a makeshift corral to make sure the horses didn’t wander away.  The afternoon was spent watching the prison for activity.  As night fell, Johnny started pacing.  He ran over the plan in his head time after time. They had talked about it enough.

“Sit down, amigo, you’re making me nervous,” Val said as he and Scott sat next to the fire.

Johnny sat down in front of the fire, crossed legged.  

Scott looked at his brother.

“Johnny, when you were in there before, I know it was bad.  I’ve listened to you reliving it in your nightmares.  I don’t want you to go in there again.”

“I don’t see any other way, Boston.  I’m the only one that has a chance of being taken straight to the prison.  Don’t worry; I’ll be out of there faster than you can say Johnny Madrid,” he laughed.  

Scott didn’t find it one bit funny.

“Relax Scott,” Johnny saw the tension in his brother’s face. “You know I’ve been sentenced to that prison twice.  The first time was a few years ago.  Glad I never had to go there. This last time was bad enough.  The first time instead of prison, I ended up in the Mexican Army.”

Scott looked at Val, wondering if he knew.  “What did you do to get sentenced to prison, and how did you end up in the Mexican Army?”  

Val knew all about Johnny’s time in the army. There was very little about the boy he didn’t know.

Being with Johnny when they arrested him, Val had tried everything to get the charges dropped, but the Commandant of Police wasn’t having any of it.  It was bad enough they’d jailed the boy in the first place, but they’d sentenced him to thirty days in that shit hole prison. When the army Colonel showed up in the courtroom demanding all the prisoners, Val was at first relieved. They learned quickly enough that no one spent just thirty days in the Mexican Army.

Thirty days turned into six months, and for that six months, Val waited for Johnny’s release, worrying the entire time the boy was going to get himself killed.

Johnny poked a stick at the fire.

“Disturbing the peace, was the charge. They wanted to prove a point and sending Johnny Madrid to prison was his way of making it.”

“That doesn’t explain how you ended up in the army.  How long did you serve?”

“Serve,” Johnny snorted.  “I guess you could call it serving, but it sure wasn’t my duty.  The army was short of men, so they cleaned out every jail and prison in the area and put them all on the front lines.  They used us as cannon fodder, expendable boys no one would miss.”

Val cleared his throat.  Johnny gave him a faint smile, knowing he was wrong about no one missing him.   

Johnny stared at the fire.  He’d hated those six months.  The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that Val, his Papi, was waiting for him.

“How old were you?”   Looking between Val and Johnny, Scott knew there was more to the relationship between the two than either would tell. 

Scott was watching his brother’s face and knew he was reliving the experience in his mind.

Johnny hesitated for a few moments.  “Fourteen, fifteen, I guess,” he shrugged, “not sure.”  He still didn’t know for sure how old he was.

“They were going to send a fourteen-year-old boy to prison for disturbing the peace?  I suppose the army was better.” Scott was appalled that his little brother had been subjected to such treatment.

“Yeah, the army was better.  At least I got to shoot a gun.  I’m sure the French wished I’d stayed in prison instead of the army,” Johnny smiled.  His smile faded as he stood up and walked to the horses.

Johnny patted the horse’s neck. “I sure do hate to lose this horse.  Kinda’ gotten attached to him.”

“I’ll see what I can do to get him back before we head out of here,” Scott said, following him to the horses. 

Scott took Johnny’s arm and turned him around to face him.

“Can I just talk to my brother for a few minutes?” he asked with pleading eyes.

Johnny looked at Scott and saw his big brother.  There was a flutter in his heart.  His eyes softened, and he took Scott’s hand.   “I’m still here, brother,” Johnny said softly, “I’m always just below the surface.  I just can’t let it show, and I can’t feel right now.  That’s the way it has to be.”

Scott moved closer to Johnny. “I know, but I want you to know I miss my little brother.”

A smile escaped from Johnny’s lips, “Scott, I miss you too.” 

Then the moment was over.  The hard eyes had returned.

Johnny turned to look at Val.

“Val, I want you and Scott both to know that no matter what happens in the next few days, no one, and I mean no one, can ever find out that Scott is my brother.”

Johnny looked at Scott. “Scott, no matter what you see or hear, you can’t let anyone know.  If you for one-second show any concern for me or me for you …. well, I wouldn’t want to live with that.”

Scott looked at Johnny, searching his eyes.  He couldn’t find Johnny Lancer anywhere. 

“Don’t worry. No one will know.”

Johnny nodded and turned away.   

Johnny reached into his saddlebags and took out his backup gun and holster.  He had switched the weapons after crossing into Mexico.  Now putting his working gun away, he strapped on his backup piece.  He didn’t want to take any chance of losing his working gun. 

---

When night fell, Johnny rode back to the cantina. As he dismounted, he took his hat off and put it over the saddle horn.  His hat was another thing he didn’t want to lose.

Johnny walked into the cantina and, once again, ordered a glass of tequila.  He sat at the same table with his back to the wall and waited.

Thirty minutes later, Val and Scott came in.  They ordered tequila this time and sat at the same table they’d occupied the night before.

Johnny didn’t think anything was going to happen.  Finishing his drink, he stood up and left the cantina.  The moment he stepped outside the batwing doors, he felt a gun press against his back and then heard the hammer cock as he raised his hands.

He glanced down to see a hand removing his gun from his holster.   “What do you want?” Johnny asked, not turning around.  “I’m just passing through.  I don’t want any trouble.”

Scott and Val heard Johnny’s voice, and both moved to the door to see four men holding guns on the younger Lancer.  They stepped back into the cantina and sat back down at the table.   They knew this is what Johnny had been waiting for.

The four gunmen motioned for Johnny to step back into the building.  Johnny did as he was told and stepped back through the doors. 

“I told you I’m just passing through.  I don’t have any money,” Johnny said, watching the four men.

One of the gunmen looked at the bartender.

“Is this the man?”

“Si, that is Madrid,” the bartender grinned. “Ahora, donde esta mi dinero?”  (Now, where is my money?)

“Madrid?” Johnny Lancer asked.  “You think I’m Madrid, the gunfighter?  Do I look like a gunfighter?  My name’s John Lancer.  I’m a cattle rancher from California.”

The four men looked at each other, and one of them shrugged.

“We will take you to la prisión.  Someone there knows what Madrid looks like.  If you are not Madrid, we will bring you back,” the man stated.

“If you are Madrid,” another of the men laughed, “I do not envy you.”

Johnny shook his head, “I’m telling you; you have the wrong man.”

“We will see, Senor. We will see. Vayamos.”  The man pushed Johnny toward the door.

Johnny hesitated.

“Ahora!” one of the men shoved him out the door.   

Val and Scott sat, almost stunned, for several minutes after Johnny was led out. Standing, Val glared at the bartender who ignored the gringos.  Val said a silent vow he’d make the man pay for his betrayals.

Leaving the cantina, they mounted their horses. Just as they started to ride away, Scott saw Johnny’s horse still tied to the hitching post.  Reaching down, he untied the horse and led it away. In the back of his mind, he wondered what Johnny was riding.

---

Two vaqueros stood in the shadows watching and waiting.  They witnessed the four men push Madrid back into the cantina and then escort him out again.

They’d wanted to stop what was happening but knew they had to let it play out.  The two vaqueros watched quietly as the four men walked toward the prison with guns drawn on their prisoner. 

They continued to watch a while longer.  Minutes later, the two gringos came out of the cantina and mounted their horses, leading Madrid’s horse behind them.

Now all they could do was wait.  In two days, their wait would be over, and with any luck, they would all head back to Juarez.

---

Anxiety filled Scott as he dismounted back at camp.  The thought of his brother in that prison was tearing him up inside.  He knew only bits and pieces of what Johnny had gone through the last time he was there.

“Val,” Scott said as he looked into the fire, “I’m afraid for him.  I can’t believe I sat back and let them take him.”

“I know what you mean.”  Val stabbed at the fire.  “We have two days, and then we’ll have him out.”

“A lot can happen in two days,” Scott said as he threw a rock into the fire.  “I sure as hell hope this goes as planned.  I would hate to be the one to tell my father I lost his youngest son.”

---

The four gunmen walked Johnny out of the cantina and prodded him toward the prison.  It was only a ten-minute walk, but it had turned into the longest ten minutes Johnny had ever known.

One of the men said there was someone at the prison that knew Madrid.  He always knew there was a chance one of the guards would recognize him, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t be the case.   Two days.  That’s all he needed to find Joe Worthington and tell him about the plan to break him out.

After what seemed to be an eternity, they were standing outside the prison gates.  Looking at the entrance to hell, Johnny visibly shuddered.  He remembered another time when he’d stood in this very spot, looking at these same gates.  It hadn’t worked out too well for him the last time.  He’d spent three months here and ended up facing a firing squad.

The gates swung open and the four gunmen pushed Johnny inside.  His heart sank when he heard the gate close and the slide lock fall into place.

“We need to lock this one up until morning,” one of the men told the prison guard.

The guard shrugged and led them to a cell block.  He opened the door and pushed Johnny in.  He landed on the dirt floor on his hands and knees.

Johnny looked around the dark room, seeing a low light in the back.  His eyes quickly adjusted to the cell.  It was filthy.  The smell of body odor, urine, and feces overwhelmed him.

He remembered this place all too well.  The memory of the three months he’d spent in the prison flooded back.  Memories of the hunger he’d felt and of the beatings and whippings.  A chill ran through him, knowing he still had the scars and the nightmares from his last visit. 

“This was a bad idea,” he thought as he moved further into the cell.

Still, it was the only idea he knew would work.  There had been no guarantee that they would have taken Val inside the prison and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Scott do this.  There was no way his brother would ever know what he’d gone through in this place.

Sleeping men lay on the dirt floor.  The cotton prison clothes they wore in no way kept the cold from them.  Johnny slid down a wall and sat on the dirt floor, bringing his knees close to his chest.  He laid his head on his knees.

‘Molly, I hope you have your men in place.’             

Sleep didn’t come to Johnny that night. The sounds of the prison made his skin crawl.  Snores and grunts could be heard along with the occasional muttering in Spanish as someone suffered through a nightmare.  Then there were the rats.  The sound of scurrying rats was the worst.  The rats were everywhere.  The one time he had dozed off, a rat had run across his foot.  He remembered the last time he was in this hell hole.   He couldn’t count the number of times he’d woken up with a rat biting into his skin.

The obnoxious odors of the cell increased as morning came and prisoners went about their morning routines.  He tried to control his roiling stomach.   He needed air and prayed they would let the prisoners out sooner than later.   Within minutes the men were filing out of the cell and into the compound yard.

Johnny followed the line of prisoners outside.  He quickly moved to a corner and bent over, trying to control his stomach.  He took a deep breath and pushed the bile back down.

Staying at the back of the yard, Johnny searched Worthington.  All of the prisoners looked alike.  They were all wearing the same thin white, now filthy white, shirts and pants.   All of them with beards and long hair.  It was hard to tell which were Mexican and which gringos.  He began wandering around the compound, trying to look at each man.

Finally, Johnny saw him.  Joe Worthington was taller than the other prisoners. 

‘Murdoch’s taller.’  Johnny was suddenly thinking of his father.  That image led to one of Scott and then of Lancer.  His emotions were taking over.   Lancer was trying to come forward and push Madrid aside.

He shook himself and fought to bring the Madrid side of him back into focus.   He didn’t need Johnny Lancer now.  It was Johnny Madrid and only Madrid that was needed. 

Joe Worthington had changed since the last time Johnny had seen him.  He was now thin and grayer.  He had a lost look about him.

“Senor,” Johnny said as he moved to stand in front of Joe, “I’m new here.  Can you tell me what to expect?”

Joe barely looked at the new prisoner.  He had his eyes down.  The first thing he saw was the man was wearing boots.  None of the prisoners wore boots.  Prisoners wore thong sandals.  As his eyes moved up, he noticed the new prisoner was wearing pants and a green shirt.  Finally, his eyes reached the face.  

A young man with a heavy black beard stood before him.  He didn’t know who the man was at first.  It was then that he looked into the eyes and deep blue eyes stared back at him.  His heart fluttered.

“My God, Johnny.” Joe had tears in his eyes.

“Joe,” Johnny cautioned, “you need to get control of yourself.  Don’t let anyone know we know each other.”

“Johnny, how did you get here?” Joe whispered, trying to control his emotions.  “It isn’t safe for you here.”

“We’re here to get you out,” Johnny answered, looking around.

“We?” Joe asked as his eyes seemed to come alive again.

“Val’s here too.  He’s waiting near the prison.  We have a plan for tomorrow.  We have to wait until 10:00 in the morning and then we’re out of here.  We have to make sure we’re out here in the yard when the gate blows,” Johnny said in a low voice.

“Gates blow?  Johnny, you’re planning on blowing the prison up?”

Joe looked around to make sure no one was listening.

“Maybe not the whole prison, but for sure the gates,” Johnny smiled. “Molly will have vaqueros waiting to take us north.”

“Johnny, what if someone here recognizes you?”

“That’s why I’m wearing all this hair,” Johnny smiled, rubbing his hand on his face.  “I sure will be glad when I can shave it off.”  Johnny looked around.  “The men who brought me in last night said there was someone here that could identify Johnny Madrid.  You have any idea who it is?” 

“I’m not sure,” Joe said, looking around.  “There are some pretty sadistic guards here.  There is one in particular.  That man is the devil himself.”

Before Johnny could ask the name of the man, the gates opened and a short, stout man walked in.  The sight of the man who entered the compound made Johnny’s blood run cold.

“Sanchez,” he gasped.

Of all the people to be here, Hector Sanchez was the last person Johnny wanted to see.  Lowering his head, he shifted to the rear of the compound. 

Joe watched him move against the wall.

“You know him?” Joe moved to stand next to Johnny.

“Joe, I’ve got a problem, a big problem.”  Johnny cast his eyes down.  “That’s Hector Sanchez.   I killed his brother a few months ago.”

Hector’s brother Pedro had been in charge of the firing squad when Johnny escaped.  It was Pedro Johnny killed the day the Pinkerton agent freed him.

“The firing squad?” Joe took a deep breath.  “Johnny, when I got here, that was all anyone was talking about.  The guards were overheard talking about the prisoners that got away.  They said you were one of them.”

“Yeah, I was one of them,” Johnny answered with his head down.  “There were only two of us who got away.”  The image of the firing squad flashed before his eyes.

It was late afternoon before the four men who brought Johnny in were able to talk to Sanchez.

Johnny was squatting down at the back of the compound when he saw and heard the door to the main building crash open.  Johnny lowered his head.

“Joe, get away from me and stay away.”

Joe quickly moved away.

Sanchez stormed out of the building and into the compound.  He searched until he saw the man he was looking for—the only man who wasn’t wearing prison clothes.  Johnny’s shirt showed up like a green leaf on a bed of snow.  

As Sanchez tore through the compound, he threw men out of his way.   Stomping up to Johnny, Sanchez stopped with his hands on his hips.  Reaching down, he grabbed Johnny by his hair and lifted him to his feet. 

Johnny kept his head down and eyes half-closed.

“Look at me,” Sanchez yelled.  Men in the yard moved away and stared at Sanchez and the new prisoner.

Johnny raised his head.  Opening his blue eyes, he found Sanchez’s brown eyes.

“MADRID,” Sanchez screamed.  “Finally, mestizo, you are mine,” he laughed. “You will pay for what you did to mi hermano.”

The word Madrid resounded off the walls of the compound.  Prisoners repeated the name as they stared at the man standing in front of Sanchez.  

Sanchez seized Johnny by the back of his neck and threw him into the center of the compound.  Johnny rolled to his feet, coming to face Sanchez.   Sanchez advanced on him with a sadistic smile on his face.  He was going to enjoy torturing Madrid.

“Hold him,” Sanchez yelled as two guards hurried forward.  Johnny struggled as guards took each of his arms.  Sanchez walked up to Johnny and grinned. 

Johnny saw the balled fist coming at his stomach.  He doubled over as a second and third fist hit him again in the stomach before he crumpled to the ground.

“Lock him up.” Sanchez spat on Johnny.  “I want to savor this moment,”

The guards took Johnny back into the cell he’d been in the night before and dumped him on the floor.

Pushing himself to his feet, Johnny staggered to the wall.  As he slid down the wall and sat on the dirt floor, he thought, ‘Tomorrow isn’t going to come soon enough.’

---

“Val, I’m going to take a walk to the ridge overlooking the prison,” Scott spoke up, staring in the direction of the prison. “I don’t want to take a chance of riding.  Do you want to come with me?”

“Why not?” Val fell in beside Scott.  “I hope Molly has everything on her end taken care of.”

They took the 30-minute walk and lay on the ground viewing the activity below.  The sun was starting to set as they watched men come and go into the compound. 

Scott let out a deep sigh.  He didn’t know what he’d expected to see.  There was no way he could have seen his brother from where they were.

.

“Scott, there’s nothing to see.  We might as well go on back.” Val stood, not seeing the rider coming toward him. 

Scott came to his feet just as a second rider came into view.  Within minutes they were both facing down rifles.

“What do you want here?” one of the riders asked.

“They were in the cantina last night,” the other rider said.  “Do you look for Madrid?”

“Madrid?” Val answered, glancing at Scott. “Yeah, we’re looking for Madrid.  We would have gotten him last night if you hadn’t shown up and ruined it.”

“Por qué?”   (Why?)

“We want to send him to hell.”

The two riders laughed. 

“There is no need, Senor, Madrid will be in hell soon enough, and then he will wish he were dead.  Now walk.  Sanchez will want to see you two in the morning.”

“No need to take us anywhere,” Val argued.  “We ain’t done anything.  No law against just taking a walk is there?”

“When it comes to Madrid, we take no chances, Senor,” the lead rider said. “You will walk, or we will kill you.”

Scott looked at Val and started walking.

---

The sun was getting low when the cell doors opened, and the prisoners were forced back into the room.  Joe slowly moved around the walls until he found Johnny. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered.  “Did he hurt you bad?”

“I’ve had worse,” Johnny answered with a wince.

“Johnny, how’s Molly?” Joe asked, ashamed that his need to know about his wife meant more to him than how Johnny was at that moment.

“She’s good, Joe.  Molly’s a strong woman.  We wouldn’t have pulled this together if it wasn’t for her.”

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Joe inquired, looking around to make sure no one was listening.

“We just need to make sure we’re in the compound at 10:00.  Everything else will fall into place.”

“Johnny, you know Sanchez isn’t going to let you in the compound with the other prisoners.  I’ll be there, but you won’t.”

“Yeah, I’ve thought of that,” Johnny said, pulling his knees to his chest. “Guess I better think of something.   Do you still get water?  I’m real thirsty right now.”

“We each get a cup at sundown.  The guards should be bringing in the water bucket soon.”

Joe looked toward the door. As if on cue, it opened and two guards brought in a large bucket of water.  Prisoners stood and filed by the bucket. Guards gave a cup of water to each prisoner and then pushed them along. 

Standing, Johnny followed Joe to the end of the line.  The guards handed him a cup of water that he quickly drained and gave back.

Johnny was about to sit down when the doors opened. To Johnny’s dismay, Scott and Val were pushed into the cell.  He shook his head, sighed, and retook his seat against the wall.  Pulling his leg up again, he laid his head on his knees. 

‘What else is going to go wrong.’

Joe moved over to sit next to him.   It wasn’t long before Scott and Val found their way to the same wall.  Johnny didn’t look at them, and he didn’t say anything.   

Val looked at his friend and then at Joe.

“Joe, how are you doing?” Val asked in a whisper.

“Val, it’s good to see you.  I sure wish it wasn’t in here,” Joe responded.  “Who is this?”

Val turned to look at Scott.  “His name’s Scott Garrett.  Brought him along to help.  Guess we messed up.”

Scott glanced at his brother.  Johnny’s head still lay on his knees; his eyes closed.  There was no emotion and no recognition.  Scott didn’t even try to speak to his brother.

Joe was watching Johnny and Garrett.  He could see distress in Garrett’s eyes.  He didn’t know what was going on or why Johnny hadn’t spoken to the man. 

Finally, Joe spoke up, “There’s a guard here by the name of Sanchez.  He recognized Johnny right away.” Joe nodded toward Johnny.  “Gave him a good beating this afternoon.”

Both Val and Scott turned to look at Johnny.

Johnny didn’t open his eyes or take his head off his knees.

“We have another problem,” Joe whispered.  “Johnny says we have to be in the compound at 10:00 tomorrow.  The three of us may be there, but Sanchez will never let Johnny out there with the general population.”

“Joe, a man is staying with Molly by the name of Murdoch Lancer.  If you get back across the border before us, let him know what’s happening,” Val whispered so that only Joe could hear him.

“Lancer?” Joe questioned.

“Johnny’s Pa,” Val responded.

Joe didn’t say any more.  He only nodded and glanced at Johnny.

Scott looked at his brother. There was no way he was leaving this place without Johnny.  They would have to think of something.

---

Johnny had another night with almost no sleep.  His stomach hurt from the beating he’d taken, the rats kept scurrying around him, and worst of all, he’d let his guard down. The sight of his big brother trying to sleep on the dirt floor next to him broke his heart.  It was one thing for him to be here, but quite another for Scott. 

As morning light started to filter into the room, Johnny saw Val watching him.  He didn’t say anything to his friend; he just shook his head and buried his face between his knees.  Johnny didn’t have to talk to Val.  They both knew the plan.  All they had to do is be away from the gate at 10:00 when it blew. 

The guards opened the door and yelled for the prisoners to enter the compound.  The prisoners filed out.  Johnny stood and got in line to exit the cell.  He pulled Scott back and whispered, “Remember what I told you, Garrett.  No matter what happens… you stay out of it.”

He got as far as the door when a hand shoved him back.

Johnny laughed, “Tell Sanchez he’s as sick as his brother was.  I’ll send him to hell just like I did his hermano.”

Scott and Val exited the cell listening to Johnny’s rant.

“Guess he’s figured out how to get into the compound,” Val said as they moved to an outer wall.

Scott looked around to see a Mexican guard stalking toward him and Val.

“My name is Hector Sanchez.  My men tell me you are looking for Madrid.  Why?”  It was apparent Sanchez had been drinking.

“Thought we’d take his reputation,” Val answered.  “You got no reason to hold us here.”

“You are pistoleros?  Sanchez asked, looking the two men over.

“Yeah, we’re pistoleros,” Val replied.

“No one will be taking Madrid’s reputation,” Sanchez laughed.  “He is, how do you say, out of the game.”

“You gonna let us out of here?” Val asked.

“Si, I will let you go.  Perhaps you will enjoy watching me send Madrid to hell first,” Sanchez laughed again as he walked away.

Val and Scott looked at each other. 

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Val whispered to Joe and Scott.

“Sanchez isn’t someone you mess with,” Joe said as he watched Sanchez walk toward the cell block.   

Sanchez turned and waved for two guards to follow him into the cell, closing the door behind them. 

Inside, Sanchez walked up to Johnny and grinned.

“I received your message, Madrid.  So, you are going to send me to hell.  I think maybe I will take great pleasure in helping you there first.”

Sanchez backhanded him.    

Johnny jumped forward, grabbing the front of Sanchez’s shirt.  The two men with Sanchez pulled him off their jefe. 

Sanchez took punched his captive again and again until he lay on the floor in a heap.

Laughing, Sanchez walked out of the cell.  Going back to his room, Sanchez picked up a bottle of tequila and drank heavily for the next two hours.

---

“Do you think he’s alright?” Scott asked, glancing for the hundredth time toward the cell where he’d left Johnny that morning.

“I don’t know,” Val answered.  He looked at the sun, judging the time.  “It’s almost time.”

“I’m not leaving here without him, Val.”

“I know Scott.  I’m not either.” 

It was close to 9:30 when Sanchez staggered out into the compound and waved for two of the guards again. 

Scott, Val, and Joe watched as a drunken Sanchez staggered back into the cell.

Johnny saw the door open and knowing what was about to happen, braced himself. 

Sanchez advanced on him.  The two guards dragged Johnny to his feet.

“Hold him tight,” Sanchez hissed.

The guards pulled him tighter to them.  Sanchez laughed as he backhanded the defenseless man across the face again and again. 

“Don’t you ever get tired,” Johnny moaned, raising his head to look at Sanchez.  Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth down the dark beard on his face.

“You’re a brave man Sanchez.  Yes, brave when you have two men holding your victim.  I’ve heard of you, Hector.  I’ve heard how brave you can be.”  Johnny spat, spraying blood across Sanchez’s face and chest.

“I am going to make you beg me to stop beating you.” Sanchez was getting mad. 

Johnny pulled himself away from the guards holding him and the corner of his mouth curled up. He shook his head, “No, Hector. You see, Madrid don’t beg.  Not for you, not for anyone.”

Sanchez screamed and hit Johnny again with a closed fist knocking him to the floor.

“You will beg, Madrid. I will make you beg,”

Sanchez stormed out of the cell and moved to the center of the compound.  He swayed for a moment before starting to yell.

“You will all watch,” Sanchez’s words slurred.   “I have the great Johnny Madrid.  He is your champion, no?” 

Prisoners raised their heads and looking toward the cell.  

Val, Scott, and Joe moved to the front of the men.  A faint murmur started running through the prisoners.  The one word they heard over and over again was ‘Madrid.’

Sanchez motioned to the cell.  The two guards dragged Johnny into the compound.  Sanchez unwound his whip and snapped it in the air. 

Sanchez started laughing.   “Now, we will see how much courage your champion has.”

---

Scott watched as his barely conscious and battered, brother was dragged to the center of the compound. The guards tied his arms, outstretched, to two posts.

Sanchez walked forward and nodded to one of the guards. 

The guard took a knife from his belt and slit the back of Johnny’s shirt. When the knife pricked the skin on his back, Johnny’s head shot up.  The guard finished by cutting the sleeves of the shirt off his prisoner’s arms.  The remnants of the shirt fell to the ground.

With everything that had happened, a stray thought went through Johnny’s head, ‘Teresa’s gonna be awful unhappy that I’ve lost another shirt.’  He almost smiled but quickly pushed Teresa out of his mind and steadied himself for what was about to happen.

Struggling to control a myriad of emotions, Scott couldn’t stand to watch.  Turning his head away, he found that of all the emotions churning inside him, anger won out.  He couldn’t let this happen; not to his brother.  Steeling himself with clenched fists, he started to take a step forward only to feel Val’s grip tighten on his right arm.  It was a reminder that there was nothing he could do, and if he tried, he’d get them all killed. 

“You remember what he said,” Val hissed.  “No one finds out you’re his brother.  You don’t try to help him.   It can’t be long now before all hell is going to break loose and we get out of here.”

“Val,” Joe had moved closer to the two men, “when is this escape going to take place?  Sanchez is an evil son of a bitch.  He’ll kill the boy.”

“Soon,” Val answered and prayed he was right.  “If only Sanchez could have waited another hour.”

Looking around the compound, Val could see that all eyes were on Johnny.  It appeared that all the prisoners were watching the scene unfold.

---

CRACK!

The sound echoed off the walls of the prison compound as the whip found its mark on the young man’s bare back.

Gasping as the tip of the lash rolled over his right shoulder and onto his chest, he felt his skin flay. A warm stream of blood ran down and across his stomach.

Breath held; eyes pressed shut, he fought to control the pain.  With his arms stretched to posts on either side and high above him, his feet held him up, but barely.

Scott’s head snapped up when he heard the whip crack.  In horror, he watched as the first lash tore into his brother. 

CRACK!

Johnny’s muscles tensed, waiting for the pain he knew was coming. When the whip wrapped around his chest, he bit back a moan.

Tears that were welling Scott’s eyes found release as the second lash struck his brother.

“Mestizo, it hurts, no?” Sanchez laughed, bringing everyone’s attention away from his helpless victim and back to him.

CRACK!

This time the lash wrapped around his legs.  Arms were torn almost from their sockets and shoulder muscles screamed out in pain when Sanchez yanked the whip back, taking his legs with it.

CRACK!

The fourth lash ripped across the middle of Johnny’s back, laying open the skin.  With the intense pain, he couldn’t feel the blood running down his back and soaking into the top of his pants.

Sanchez’s voice wavered in and out of his consciousness.

“Mestizo, you can make it stop,” Sanchez laughed again.   “You want the pain to stop?  Beg me to stop.”

“God, Johnny,” Val whispered, “just do it.”

Scott had turned away now, unable to watch any longer.

“Beg, mestizo,” Sanchez ranted in frustration.

Still, Johnny remained silent.

“Beg!” Sanchez bellowed again.

CRACK!

The whip found its mark again, cutting deeper than it had before.  This time his back arched and a moan betrayed the young man, as white-hot pain seared through him.

Scott’s head jerked around to look at his brother.

“Si,” Sanchez grinned. “That was not so hard, was it? Let it out, mestizo.”

Sanchez walked over to his victim, grabbed him by the hair, and pulled his head back.

“Mestizo, you can make it stop.  Si, I will stop,” Sanchez slurred.  “You just need to say the words.”

He let the dark head fall forward and started to turn away.  Stopping, Sanchez turned back and poured tequila onto the open wounds.

The shock of the alcohol on his back sent a wave of pain through him as a gasp and loud moan escaped his throat.

Sanchez walked away, raised the whip and laughed.

CRACK!

The whip wrapped around Johnny’s left shoulder.  The tip of the lash cutting deep into his chest and burning his shoulder.   Johnny’s head sank to his chest.   

CRACK!

“BEG!” Sanchez screamed.

Johnny raised his head.  

Scott could see the pain etched across his brother’s face, but it lasted only a moment as their eyes locked.

Scott’s eyes pleaded and mouthed the words, ‘Please do it.’

Johnny could see his pain mirrored in Scott’s eyes and knew what his brother wanted him to do, but he couldn’t… not yet, maybe never.

Johnny mouthed, ‘Forgive me.’

Val was watching his friend’s face and read his lips.  Glancing down at Scott, he put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.  As hard as for him to watch, he could only imagine what Scott was feeling.

Scott found himself holding his breath, then whispered, “Johnny, do what he says.  Please, brother.” 

Sanchez raised the whip again and then let it fall to his side when he saw the mestizo struggling to get his feet back under him.

A grin crossed Sanchez’s sadistic face thinking he’d won. 

Drawing on the last of his strength, and in a voice that could only be that of Johnny Madrid, the words he screamed echoed off the prison walls.

“MADRID DON’T BEG.”

A collective gasp came from everyone watching.  Scott couldn’t believe that after all his brother had gone through, he still refused to beg for it to stop.  He looked at Val, seeing tears in the older man’s eyes.

“He’ll kill the boy for sure now,” Joe spoke up.

“Why, Val?” Scott whispered, “Why won’t he just do it?  We only need a little more time.”

Val shook his head. “He won’t beg, Scott.  He’ll never beg.  If the man were asking for anything else, but not begging.”

“You may not beg,” Sanchez shrieked as he raised the whip again, “but I will hear you scream!”

CRACK!

His body jerked with the impact of the whip.  Unable to control his bladder, he felt warm urine flow down his legs.

CRACK!

Johnny’s body jerked again as the pain coursed through him.  He could feel pieces of skin flay away from his back.

‘Dios, please let it be now,’ he prayed.

Johnny knew he couldn’t take anymore and that with the next lash, he wouldn’t be able to keep the scream from escaping.    

Scott dropped to his knees with Val’s hand on his shoulder.  He couldn’t turn away and watched as the lash peeled away more flesh.

CRACK!

Johnny’s scream pierced the air at the same time the sound of an explosion tore through the air.

The rear prison wall shook before partially collapsing.  A second, third, and fourth explosion took down more walls until finally, a blast blew the gates apart. 

Val pulled Scott to his feet, dragging him toward Johnny.  Ramming into the nearest guard, they pushed him to the ground knocking him unconscious. Taking a knife from the guard’s belt, Val quickly cut the ropes holding Johnny up.

Johnny collapsed between them.

“Scott, get his other arm,” Val yelled as gunshots rang out around them. 

Scott took one side and Val the other.  Together, they carried and dragged Johnny toward the gate.

“Joe, you go ahead,” Val yelled. “Your men are waiting for you.  Don’t wait for us.”

“Val, I can’t leave you.”

“GO!”

Knocked down by the explosion, it took Sanchez several seconds to realize what was happening.  His guards were falling around him and prisoners were running through the opening where the gates once stood.  What few of his men who were left tried to stop the exodus.

Sanchez looked to where Madrid had been hanging.  He screamed when he saw his prey missing.  Looking around, Sanchez saw the two gringos carrying Madrid through the gate.   He raised his pistol and fired.   

Sanchez smiled when he saw Madrid jerk under the impact of his bullet.

“Run, mestizo.  I will find you,” Sanchez sneered.  “There is still much fun to be had with you.”

---

Murdoch, Cipriano, Walt, Frank, Juan, and Jose took the stage from Green River the day after receiving Scott’s telegram.  It became apparent very quickly that they needed a private stagecoach.

Murdoch made the arrangements in Green River, and by the time they arrived in Visalia, a private coach and supplies were waiting for them.

Their journey took them south through Bakersfield and then Riverside.  From there, they traveled east along the Butterfield stage route across the desert to the stage station at Tyson’s Well*, Phoenix, and then south to Tucson.  In Tucson, they hired horses for the final leg of the trip to Nogales.

Seven days after leaving Lancer, the six men crossed the border from Nogales, Arizona to Nogales, Sonora.

Although Rancho Worthington was on the American side of the border, Murdoch knew the only decent hotel was on the Mexican side.  By the time they reached the two-story building, the six men were tired and ready for soft beds.  

“Cipriano, will you and Jose see to the horses?   I’ll get us rooms for the night.  We’ll find the Worthington ranch tomorrow.”

Murdoch stepped down from his horse and handed the reins to the Segundo.  Taking his saddlebags and bedroll, he looked around the busy street.

“Si, Patron,” Cipriano and Jose took the reins of all the horses and started toward the livery stable.

Murdoch looked at the hotel and sighed.  He wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a bed at that moment.

Walt, Frank, and Juan followed Murdoch into the hotel.  Walking up to the desk, they saw a small man with a pencil mustache shorted through some papers.

The man finally looked up.  “May I help you?”

“I need four rooms if you have them,” Murdoch said as he leaned against the registration desk.

“Yes, indeed, I have them.  Just sign in.” 

The clerk turned the registration book around for Murdoch to sign.

Suddenly, a young boy ran into the lobby.   “Mr. Jordan, Mr. Jordan, have you heard?” the boy gasped out.

“Slow down, Joey.  What’s wrong?” the clerk asked, forgetting about Murdoch and the men standing in front of him.

Murdoch smiled at the boy who was trying to catch his breath.

“There was a prison break in Nuevo Casa Granda,” the boy answered.

“So?” The clerk waited patiently.

“They’re saying Johnny Madrid was there.  He blew the prison up, Mr. Jordan.”  The boy smiled as he finished.

Murdoch dropped the pen he had in his hand and turned to the boy.  “When did this happen?”

“This morning.  The Rurales have already started to close the border over at Juarez,” the boy answered.  “Got to go,” he said as he tore out of the lobby.

Murdoch turned to see Cipriano walking toward him.  “You have heard, Patron?”

“Yes,” Murdoch answered as he finished signing the register.  “Was there any other information?”

“None yet, Patron,” Cipriano answered.  “I will find out where Rancho Worthington is and see if there any more information.  You will rest your back now?”

Murdoch took the keys from the desk clerk and handed three of them to Cipriano. One key was for Cipriano.  The other two keys would be for the other four men who would be sharing rooms.

Murdoch turned toward the stairs.

“I’m going up to my room and lay down.  If you hear anything, let me know.”

Murdoch knew it was two days from the prison to the Rio Grande at Juarez.  There would be no word from his sons until they crossed the border again.  He got to his room and fell onto the bed.  He lay there for a long time, thinking of Scott and John before finally finding peace in sleep.

---

Once outside the prison compound, Scott spotted two horses tied to a hitching post and a third that had broken free and running away. 

Val reached for the nearest horse.

“Scott, get on.  I’ll hand him up to you.”

Scott threw himself onto the horse and then reached down to help Val lift an unconscious Johnny into the saddle in front of him.

Slapping Scott’s horse on the rump, Val yelled, “Head for the camp.”

Val climbed onto the second horse.  Glancing over his shoulder, he could see men still running out of the prison gates.  As he rode away, he could hear gunfire and screams coming from inside the walls. 

Val knew what was happening.  The now-former inmates were going to make short work of the prison guards.

It took everything Scott had in him to hold onto Johnny’s blood and sweat covered body.

When the injured man swayed and fell forward over the horse’s neck, Scott pulled him back with all the strength he had.  His brother falling off the horse wasn’t an option.

The ride to the makeshift camp didn’t take long.  Once there, they gently laid Johnny on his side while they gathered their saddlebags and bedrolls, then quickly saddled their horses in the corral before mounting again. 

“Val, give me that jacket to put around his shoulders.” Scott pointed to the jacket Johnny borrowed from him before leaving home.  

Val handed up the jacket and helped Scott put it around the unconscious man’s shoulders.  Scott thought at least he would have something dry to cling to as he held onto his brother.

Johnny was little more than a rag doll sitting in front of Scott as they headed north as fast as they could.  Val led Johnny’s horse and the two they’d brought from the prison.

They rode for two hours before Scott called out, “Val, we have to stop.  There’s so much blood I can’t hold him anymore.  He’s slipping off.”

Val looked around and pointed to an outcropping of rock they could use for shade and cover. “Over there.”  

Reining to a stop near the rocks, Val jumped down.

“Give him to me.”

Scott let Johnny slide into Val’s arms.

“Scott, get one of the bedrolls and put it down next to the rocks in the shade.”   

Val held Johnny’s limp body in his arms while Scott unrolled the bedroll.

“Lay him down.”

Val stepped forward and started to put the boy down.

“Which way?”

Scott looked confused, then looked at his brother. He could see what Val was talking about.

There were cuts and welts all over the boy’s body.  While his back took the brunt of the whip, the lash hadn’t spared much. They finally decided to lay him on his stomach.   It was then that they realized the full extent of the damage.

“God, Val,” Scott gasped with tears in his eyes, “where do we start?”

Val just shook his head and ran a hand over his stubbled chin.

“Let’s go top to bottom,” Val quickly decided.   His hands were shaking as he slowly washed the delicate skin and put salve on the least of the injuries.  Val took the fishing line from Johnny’s saddlebags and started stitching up the deeper of the cuts.

“What the hell?” Val cussed as he worked his way down Johnny’s back.

“What is it, Val?” Scott asked.  His eyes followed Val’s.

“When did he get shot?”  An exhausted Scott sank entirely to the ground.

“Hell, if I know.” Val shook his head.  He went to rub his hands on his face again, but they were covered with his friend’s blood.  “There was a lot of shooting.  Come to think of it I felt him buck as we were going out the gate.  Thank heaven it’s just a flesh wound.”

Val cleaned the bullet wound and then took a deep breath. 

“We need to get him bandaged and get out of here. We’ve been here too long as it is.  We won’t be safe until we get out of Mexico.”

“That’s two days, Val.” Scott looked down at his brother. “He needs a doctor now.”

“We are the doctor,” Val ground out.  “Now get everything packed up.  We’ll work on the other cuts when we stop tonight.”

Scott walked to his horse and placed his head against the animal’s neck.  Moving to his saddle and saw it covered in blood.  Taking one of the bandages, he wiped the saddle down.  He looked at the front of his shirt, now brown with dried blood.  The copper smell turned his stomach.

“You ready to go?”

Scott looked over his shoulder to see Val holding Johnny in his arms.

“I’m ready.”  Scott stepped into the saddle and shifted back, giving room for Johnny to sit.  “Hand him up to me.”

Once Johnny was secure in front of him, Scott reached around the boy’s bare chest and pulled him back against him.  He could feel Johnny’s heartbeat and shallow breathing.  He could also feel a fever starting.

---

It was close to dusk when Scott couldn’t go on.

“Val, can we stop for the night?  We need to tend to the rest of his wounds and I’ve got to get down.”

Val turned in the saddle, looking behind them, he scanned the horizon.  There was no sign of any following.  Torn between stopping and going on, he looked at Johnny and knew there was no choice. 

“Up ahead looks like a ravine.  We’ll camp there.  If we keep the fire low enough, and on this side of it, no one should see it.”

A few minutes later, Val stopped, dismounted, and checked out their surroundings.  What he thought was a ravine turned out to be a dry riverbed.

Scott stared at the location Val picked out.

“Are you sure?  What happens if it rains? I’ve been in flash floods before.”

Val cast his eyes to the sky in the west and then looked to the east.  There weren’t any signs of rain.

“I think we’re alright. Usually don’t get storms this time of year.”

At that moment, Scott was too tired to do anything but agree.

Val walked around to the left side of Scott’s horse and reached up. Without a word, Scott handed his brother down and then slumped in the saddle.  His arms had lost feeling some time back.

“Scott, get a bedroll down for him.”

Taking a deep breath, Scott dismounted and untied his bedroll.  Sweeping the ground with his hand to remove a few rocks, he laid the bedroll on the sandy soil and unfolded it.   He leaned back as Val laid Johnny down.

“If you can start getting his clothes off of him, I’ll get a fire started.”

Scott began cutting the clothes from his brother’s unresponsive body.  Not once during the long afternoon had Johnny shown any signs of coming around. 

Scott closed his eyes and turned his head to catch his breath.  The smell of blood, sweat, and urine permeated the air. 

Val got the fire going and then moved to help. Neither of them mentioned the odors as they cut away the shredded pants and then the long johns under them. 

Once Johnny was free of clothing, the two men leaned back and took inventory of the injuries. Johnny’s back was a bloody mass of torn flesh and his chest and legs had deep cuts from where the tip of the whip cut.  The large purple bruises on his stomach, abdomen, and face were testimony to Sanchez’s brutality. 

Val reached out and started to stroke Johnny’s head but stopped when he saw blood and sweat caked in the dark hair.

Scott saw the movement and asked, “Do you think he has a head wound also?”

“I don’t know,” Val chocked on his words. “Let’s get started.  We need to get some rest before tomorrow. I got a feeling he’s gonna come to and when he does….”

Val didn’t need to finish the statement.      

As exhausted as they were, the two men took their time in treating the wounds.

“Val, help me get him dressed,” Scott said as he leaned back on his heels.  

Scott took a pair of pants from Johnny’s saddlebags and a clean shirt.  Together they were able to put the clean pants on him.  They slipped the shirt on him, leaving it unbuttoned. He laid his brother on his stomach, then covered him with a blanket up to his waist.

Scott took a piece of one of the torn shirts and soaked it with water.  He wiped his brother’s face and lips, trying to remove the dried blood that had caked on both.  There was nothing they could do for the blood caked in his hair and beard.

Scott closed his eyes and let a tear slid down his cheek.  There was nothing more they could do for his precious brother.  He couldn’t believe how much this person had come to mean to him in such a short time.  All he wanted to was gather the boy up in his arms and hold him close to his chest. 

Johnny never seemed to catch a break.  The boy’s life had been one traumatic event after another, starting with his mother taking him away from Lancer and their father.  Scott looked at the scars on his brother’s back.  Old scars now joined with new wounds that would also leave scars.  He wondered if his brother would or could ever fully recover.

Scott knew Johnny was a survivor.  For someone so young, Johnny was the strongest man he’d ever met.  Scott reached out a hand and stroked the side of his brother’s bearded face.

‘So young,’ he thought, ‘so very young.’  

“You hungry?” Val’s voice drew Scott from his musings.

“No.”

“Coffee?”

Scott nodded.

Although neither Scott nor Val had eaten much of anything in the past two days, they weren’t hungry.   Coffee was enough to satisfy them for now.

Scott was starting to doze off when a low moan brought him fully awake.

“Val,” Scott called out, “I think he’s coming around.”

The two men moved to Johnny’s side.  They heard a louder moan.  Johnny’s fists were pounding the ground near his head as he fought back the pain.  They watched as he took a ragged breath and tried to push himself up. 

Val gently pushed him back down.

Scott placed a wet cloth on his brother’s forehead.

“He has a fever,” Scott said as he wiped Johnny’s face.

“I know, but go easy on that water. I don’t know when we’re going to find any more.”

“Johnny,” Scott spoke low and soft.  “I’m here.  It’s Scott.  Val’s here, too.  You’re safe now.”

Johnny raised his head and looked at Scott with pleading eyes.  “Won’t beg, Scott.  Won’t beg.”

“I know, Johnny.  You wouldn’t beg.  Madrid doesn’t beg,” Scott replied as tears ran down his face.

“Damn right.”   Johnny clutched the bedroll in his hands, his knuckles turning white.  “Agua,” Johnny choked out, “agua, por favor.” 

Scott looked at Val questioning.   “He needs some water,” Val said, handing a cup of water to Scott. 

“Here, Johnny, drink.” Scott held a cup and tried to roll Johnny over onto his side.

Johnny drank his fill.  “Gracias.”  Taking a breath, Johnny looked to Val. “Joe?  Did Joe get out?”

“Joe got away.  Your plan worked,” Scott answered, looking at Val.  ‘Well, almost,’ he thought.

“Good, that’s good.”

Johnny bit his lip again. The pain was unbearable.  It seared through his back like a thousand razor blades slicing into him.  The pain kept mounting, layer upon layer of pain sweeping through his entire body. He gasped for air, and another moan escaped his lips. 

“Scott!” Johnny reached out, grabbing Scott’s arm, holding it tight. “Hermano, it hurts.  Dios, it hurts.  Make it stop.  Please, make it stop.”  He couldn’t control his breathing any longer.   He just wanted to pass out.

“Val, we have to give him something for the pain,” Scott said, at a loss as to what to do.  “Get the bottle of tequila.  Maybe that will help.”

“I’ll get it,” Val replied. “Hate to tell him we used most of it on his wounds.”

Val poured some of the tequila into a cup.

“Here.”  Scott held the cup as Johnny gulped the clear liquid and asked for more.

“No more, amigo,” Val said.  “You’ll be sick.”  He sat down next to his friend.  “Try to rest.” Val watched Johnny’s face as Scott helped him lay down on his side.  “We’re moving on in the morning.”

“He’ll come, you know,” Johnny moaned.  “Sanchez.  He’ll come.  He won’t let me get away again.   You watch your backs.”

Johnny closed his eyes, praying sleep would come.

“He’s right, you know,” Scott whispered, trying not to disturb Johnny.  “Sanchez is insane.  He won’t let Johnny get away from him.  He’ll be coming after us.”

“Let him come,” Val sneered.  “I would love to kill that bastard.”

---

As the night wore on, the cold of the desert set in.  The fire wasn’t enough to keep them warm. 

In the early morning hours, Johnny started to shake, and his teeth were chattering.  Scott and Val put everything they had over him, and still, it wasn’t enough.

Scott watched Johnny shaking and finally moved to lie down beside him.  Moving closer to his brother Scott asked, “Val, can you throw my bedroll over us?”

Val tossed the bedroll over them and watched as Scott pulled his brother into his chest.  He smiled as Johnny seemed to snuggle into place and drift off into a fitful sleep.

---

Stepping out of the Nogales hotel, Murdoch squinted.  Although it was early, the sun was already blazing overhead. 

The Lancer patriarch hadn’t slept well.  Thoughts of his sons kept him awake the night before and the dream he’d been having about Johnny had once again plagued him.

Murdoch made his way to the edge of the boardwalk to find Cipriano waiting for him.

“I have directions to the ranch, Patron.” Cipriano took Murdoch’s saddlebags from him.  “Walt has the horses saddled.  We will leave when you are ready.”

As the men stepped off the boardwalk, they could hear loud voices coming from the direction of the telegraph office.

“Frank, can you see what’s happening?” Murdoch asked.

“Sure thing, Mr. Lancer.”

Frank, Walt, Juan, and Jose walked toward the growing crowd. 

As Frank asked a man what was going on, he glanced over his shoulder to see Murdoch and Cipriano had followed them.

“We’re just now getting more information on that prison break,” the man answered.

“Prison break?” Murdoch asked, acting like he knew nothing about it. 

“Yeah, happened yesterday in Chihuahua, near Nuevo Casa Granda.  They’re saying Johnny Madrid blew up the prison and freed all the prisoners.  It seems like there are Rurales all along the border now waiting for him to cross back to the American side.”

Cipriano could see the worry on his Patron’s face.  The news wasn’t new.  It was the same information they’d heard the night before.

Murdoch shook his head and motioned for his men to follow him.

“Maybe, Mrs. Worthington knows more.”  Murdoch stepped into his saddle.  “Cipriano, you know which way to go?”

“Si, Patron.”

Cipriano turned his horse north with the others following.

Murdoch, Cipriano, and the four men from Lancer rode north-east toward Rancho Worthington.

An hour later, they rode into a heavily guarded ranch.

A vaquero, rifle at the ready, met them at the main gate to the hacienda.

“Senor, what is your business here?”

“My name is Lancer, Murdoch Lancer.  Molly Worthington is expecting me,” Murdoch answered as he looked around the yard in front of the hacienda.

“Senor Lancer, Si.” A broad smile spread across the man’s face.  “The Senora has been expecting you.  Are you Juanito’s Papa?  He and his friends have gone to help El Patron.  You are most welcome.”

The young vaquero motioned them forward.

The vaquero waved to another closer to the ranch house.  “Es el papa de Juanito.  Es el papa de Juanito,” he yelled loudly.   (It is Johnny’s Papa.)  

Murdoch was taken aback by the welcome he and his men received as vaqueros began to swarm into the yard to greet them. 

Molly walked out of the house.  “Mr. Lancer?”

“Yes,” Murdoch replied as he stepped down from his horse.  Extending his hand to the woman, he said, “The name’s Murdoch. You’re Mrs. Worthington?”

“Call me Molly,” she smiled at him.   “We haven’t heard anything yet.  All we know is that the prison break took place as planned.”

“We heard in Nogales. I don’t expect we’ll hear any more until at least tomorrow.”

“My men will telegraph us as soon as they get across the border,” she said with a worried tone in her voice.  “I know you’re worried too, Murdoch.  They’ll be alright.”  

“I’m sure they will, but I still worry. Do you have room for me and my men?  I want to stay here if we can.”

“Of course,” she answered and waved for her Segundo. 

“This is Miguel; he’s my Segundo.  Miguel, this is Mr. Lancer.  He and his men will be staying with us.  Will you find a place for his men in the bunkhouse?”

“Si, Senora,” the Segundo answered.  He walked up to Murdoch and removed his hat.  “Senor, you and your men are most welcome.  To have the Papa of Johnny Madrid here is an honor. We are thankful that Senor Madrid has gone to help free our Patron.  Senor, you must be very proud of your hijo.”

Murdoch looked at the faces of the vaqueros standing around, at a loss for words.  Looking at Cipriano and the Lancer men, Murdoch could see the pride Cipriano felt in hearing the words spoken about his nephew.

“Yes.  Yes, I am… we are very proud.” Murdoch turned to Cipriano. “This is Cipriano.  He is my Segundo and Johnny’s uncle… his Tio.”  

Murdoch could see the appreciation in his old friend’s eyes for mentioning his relationship with the man these vaqueros held in such high esteem.

“These men work for me and are good friends of Johnny,” Murdoch looked at Frank, Walt, Juan, and Jose.

“Come in, Murdoch,” Molly said as she turned toward the house. “You must be exhausted.”

He followed Molly into the house.  As he entered the door, he turned to see the Worthington vaqueros surrounding Cipriano and the Lancer hands.  

He was still learning about his youngest son.  He felt like he’d just found another piece of the puzzle. 

---

It didn’t take long for the desert to heat up in the morning sun. After a freezing night, the warm air felt good to all three of them. 

Breakfast was quick. Together, Val and Scott were able to get Johnny to take some jerky broth. 

Once Scott helped his brother accomplish his needs, they broke camp.  Once again, Val helped to place Johnny in front of Scott.

“Just hold on, little brother,” Scott said as he held his brother.

Johnny nodded. “Gracias, hermano.”

It wasn’t long before they were riding north again.  It was a long day made longer because of the slow pace they had to keep.  Any significant jar to Johnny’s body brought on a moan from the quickly weakening man.  At one point, Val thought a snail probably would have been going faster.

The one thing keeping them going was knowing that the next day they’d cross the Rio Grande and would be out of Mexico.

As they made camp that night, both Val and Scott realized the cold was going to be their biggest enemy.  Nights in the desert were always cold as the sand quickly gave up the heat it had collected during the day. 

Scott pulled Val aside and gave Johnny a worried look.

“Val, I held him all day.  I can feel his heart racing, and he’s having trouble breathing.  Tell me why he’s not showing the pain?  He has to be in agony.”

Val turned and looked at Johnny.  He’d also noticed Johnny holding back the pain.  He now realized what was so obvious.

“He’s still Madrid,” Val replied, looking at Scott. 

“What?” Scott questioned.

“He’s still Madrid.  It was Johnny Madrid that took the whipping.  He’s still Madrid.  Madrid doesn’t show pain,” Val said, shaking his head.  “Johnny Lancer would be dead by now or screaming in agony.  It’s Madrid keeping that boy alive.  Heaven help him, and us, when Madrid loses control of the boy.”

Scott knew he was right.  Johnny was Madrid.  Madrid didn’t show pain and Madrid didn’t beg.  Scott wanted to cry.  As long as Madrid didn’t let Johnny Lancer surface, he would make it until they crossed the border and found a doctor.

Johnny lay on his side, watching Scott and Val set up the camp.  The pain in his back was almost more than he could endure.   It took every bit of strength he had not to cry out.  Johnny closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the night.

Johnny’s eyes flew open.  “Scott!”    

Scott moved closer to his brother.

“Give me a gun,” Johnny inhaled sharply.  “Val, they’re coming.”

“How many?” Val jumped to his feet, never doubting his friend.  He’d learned long ago never to question Johnny’s hearing.

Johnny closed his eyes.

“Five… no six.” Johnny tried to shift, only to be stopped by the pain.   “Val move away from camp.  Scott, go sit by the fire.”

“Johnny,” Scott started to object. 

“It’ll be alright.  Just follow my lead.”

Thirty minutes passed, and nothing happened.  Johnny lay still with his eyes closed.  A twig snapped, and Johnny’s head jerked up, sending another wave of pain through his back.

“Do not move, Senor,” the unmistakable sound of Sanchez’s voice came out of the darkness.

Johnny lay still and slowly pushed his gun into the waistband of his pants.  Scott had started to reach for his rifle and stopped when he saw Johnny shake his head “no.”

Sanchez and his men moved into the light of the campfire.  Sanchez’s eyes searched the area.

“Where is the other gringo?”

“Gone!” Scott tried to put a bitter tone to his voice.

Sanchez laughed.  “He did not want to be near the mestizo?  That is good.  Now there are only two of you, or should I say one.”

Johnny was still lying on his side near the fire.

Sanchez walked over and stood in front of his prey.  A cruel smile formed on his face.  “Do you hurt, mestizo?” 

Johnny didn’t reply, but his eyes were on the boots in front of him.  He hadn’t paid attention to Sanchez’s boots before, but now he couldn’t take his eyes off of them.  The leather boots had sharply pointed steel tips.  As if in slow motion, Johnny saw one of the boots move backward and then start toward him.  There wasn’t time to brace himself or move away.

Sanchez was taking great pleasure in finding the man he considered prey.  He pulled his boot back and with as much force as he could, slammed it into the mestizo’s stomach.

Johnny’s scream pierced the night air as he wrapped his arms around his stomach.

Sanchez’s laugh filled the otherwise now silent night.

“Leave him alone!” Scott shouted and tried to move to Johnny aide.  One of Sanchez’s men stepped forward and slammed the butt of a rifle into his stomach, sending him to the ground.

Sanchez ignored the outburst.

Val circled the camp and waited.  He could hear voices and then Johnny’s scream, tearing through the night.  Cursing, he was about to go back toward camp when he finally saw what he’d been waiting for, Sanchez’s men.

Val stepped out of the darkness and grabbed one of them, snapping the man’s neck in one swift motion.  Easing toward another man, Val hesitated, not wanting to alert the man.  Knowing he couldn’t wait any longer, Val found his next target and quietly killed him.  Hurrying toward the campsite, he heard Sanchez. 

“Get him up,” Sanchez ordered as two of his men moved over and picked Johnny up by his arms.

“You thought you could escape me?  No one escapes me, especially you, Madrid.”  Sanchez walked behind Johnny and lifted his shirt.  He reached out and pulled the bandage from the bullet wound.  “I see you found my parting gift to you, no?”

“Go to hell, Sanchez,” Johnny spat at him.  

Sanchez punched the exposed wound with his fist.  Johnny’s moan brought a smile to Sanchez’s face.  He walked back around to face his wounded prey. 

“You see, Madrid, you can never escape me.  I will take you back to the prison; what you have left of it.  You will beg me for death.”  The back of his hand hit Johnny’s face.

Johnny’s head jerked, and blood sprayed from his mouth. 

“I have brought my old friend with me,” Sanchez grinned.  “The whip will make you beg this time.”  

Johnny struggled to stay on his feet.  His eyes had turned hard and cold.  He looked at Sanchez and a smile formed on his lips.

“I won’t beg, Sanchez.  I told you Madrid don’t beg, but I am gonna send you to hell.”

Sanchez stared at Johnny and froze.  He’d never seen Madrid like this before.  Pulling his gun, he aimed it at Johnny’s heart.

“I think it is time we end our game, Madrid.  I think you will be in hell before me.”

“I doubt that,” Johnny sneered. “What do you say we both get there at the same time?”

Scott had been listening and watched as Sanchez once again tortured his brother.  He knew Johnny had a gun in his waistband and was waiting for his brother’s move before he grabbed his rifle.  Scott also knew Val was nearby watching and listening.

He heard Sanchez tell Johnny he would be in hell before him. Then he’d heard his brother’s answer. 

“What do you say we both get there at the same time?”  

At that moment, Scott knew what Johnny had planned.

“Johnny, NO!”

Scott’s scream drew everyone’s attention to him.

From the corner of his eye, Sanchez saw Johnny break away from his men and pull a gun from his waistband.

Johnny heard Scott and for a brief moment, took his eyes off of Sanchez.  Johnny fell forward, pushing Sanchez’s gun barrel to the side.  Both men pulled the trigger at the same time. 

Sanchez fell backward with Johnny on top of him.

Without thinking, Scott scooped up his rifle and fired twice, killing the two men that had been holding his brother.  Val stepped out of the darkness and took out the last of Sanchez’s men.

Val ran into camp.  Scott turned his rifle toward the advancing man and then lowered the barrel when he realized who it was.  They both looked over to see Johnny lying on top of Sanchez; neither was moving.

Scott knelt down and gently rolled Johnny onto his side.  His eyes fell on the unmoving blood-covered body of Hector Sanchez.  Sanchez lay with his eyes open, staring into the night sky. 

Giving Johnny his full attention, Scott opened his brother’s shirt.  A large red welt was forming where Sanchez boot had made contact.  Seeing that Sanchez’s bullet had missed its mark, Scott sat down and shook his head.   Val sat next to him, and both men watched Johnny’s chest rise and fall.

Finally, Scott scooted closer to his brother.  He put a hand on the side of Johnny’s face, “Johnny?  Come on, brother, wake up.”

Johnny moaned, and his eyes fluttered open.  Gasping, he said, “Val, what the hell took you so long?”

“Me? I was waiting on you,” Val retorted.

“I was kinda’ busy,” Johnny groaned, trying hard to stay focused, “in case you hadn’t noticed,”

“I heard you.   You weren’t exactly keeping quiet,” Val knelt next to his friend.  “Look at me.”  He put his hand on the side of Johnny’s face and tilted it so he could see the blue eyes.  There was nothing in those eyes, except pain.  “How bad did he hurt you, boy?”

“I’ve been better,” he groaned.  “Did I get him?”

 .

“Yes, little brother, you got him,” Scott laughed as he leaned forward and placed his forehead on Johnny’s chest. 

“Good,” Johnny gasped in pain. “I sure am tired of getting hit.”

Val didn’t smile.  Looking around, he said, “I better get these fellows moved away from camp.  I sure don’t want to spend the night with them here.”

Scott helped Johnny back to his bedroll and looked him over.  Besides a split lip and some bleeding from the bullet wound, he seemed alright.  Scott realized they were going to have to wait to see if the impacts on Johnny’s stomach would cause any problems.  

“Can I have some water?” Johnny asked.  “My mouth feels like sand.”

Scott helped Johnny with the water and lay him back down on his side.

“You alright?” Johnny asked, remembering the rifle butt hit Scott had taken.

“I’m alright,” Scott answered, shaking his head. “I heard what you said to Sanchez.  Don’t ever do that again, brother.  I’m not ready to lose you.”

Johnny closed his eyes and nodded.

***

“How far to the border?” Johnny asked, taking short breaths.

“We should be there by early tomorrow afternoon,” Val answered, moving back to the fire.

‘Not soon enough,’ Johnny thought. 

Val looked at Johnny’s ashen face.

“You gonna be sick?”

“Yeah.” Johnny rolled and tried to push himself up. “Not feeling so good.”

Val rushed back to his friend’s side, reaching him in time to hold his head while he threw up what little there was in his stomach.

Placing a hand on the pale face, Scott sighed.

“Fever’s back.  I’m sure that being hit in the stomach didn’t help matters.  Johnny, do you think you have any broken ribs?”

“They don’t feel like any are broke, maybe cracked,” Johnny moaned.  “I need to sit up.”

Together Val and Scott were able to get Johnny into a sitting position.   Scott moved to sit behind him so that Johnny was resting against him.

“That’s better,” Johnny said as his breathing evened out and his head fell back against Scott’s chest.  His eyelids were drooping and Scott felt Johnny’s head loll to the side.

“Let’s see if we can get some food into you, and then you can sleep.”

“Not hungry.”

“At least try,” Val responded, handing Johnny a cup of broth.

Johnny took the cup with shaking hands and was only able to drink half a cup of warm liquid before handing it back.  

Val put a hand to Johnny’s face. “He’s feeling cold now.”

“Wish my body would make up its mind.” Johnny coughed, and pain etched his face.

“Think you can lay down now?” Scott asked. 

“Yeah, I can lay down.  It sure got cold all of a sudden.”  

Johnny’s hand started searching for a blanket.  Clutching it to his chest, he tried to stave off the chill of the night.

Scott shook his head and looked from Johnny to Val.  “You’re going to have to help me keep him warm tonight.”

Val added wood to the fire and waited while Scott scooted into place in front of Johnny, pulling his brother to his chest as he’d done the night before. When they were settled, Val laid at Johnny’s back before getting the bedrolls over the three of them.

As Val relaxed, he looked at the back of the dark-haired boy next to him.  Reaching out, he gently stroked the back of Johnny’s head and smiled when he felt the boy move into his hand.

---

Morning in the desert is a shifting scene of lights and colors.  The sky itself turns from velvet blacks and purples to tinges of rose and pink and then bright blue.  Sometimes there are clouds off in the distance hinting at rain somewhere.

The desert always heats up fast once the sun rises.   With the nights cold and the days hot, it was a continuous battle to keep someone in good health stable, but for one who was in constant pain, it was impossible.

It had been almost two days since they’d left the prison.  With luck, they’d be in Juarez tonight.  Crossing the Rio Grande into Texas meant safety for all of them.  Foremost it meant a doctor and a soft, warm bed for Johnny.  

Val carefully shifted away from Johnny and tucked the blanket around his back.  He saw Scott’s eyes open.  Johnny started to turn over and moaned when his back touched the ground.   Scott threw his arm over his brother’s chest and rolled him back onto his side and then pulled himself closer. 

“Just another few minutes,” Scott whispered. 

“No problem,” Val said, smiling, “I’ll build up the fire up and start some coffee. You keep the boy warm.  I’m gonna go find those hombre’s horses.”

Nodding, Scott closed his eyes again and took a few moments to feel his brother’s heartbeat and hear his gentle breathing.

Scott still marveled at the fact he had a brother.  He always knew something was missing in his life.  It wasn’t until he discovered his brother that he realized what it was.  In the five short months they’d known each other, he’d found Johnny was the missing half of his soul.  They were just beginning to learn about each other.  Each day was a day of discovery for both of them. 

Scott had made a promise to their father, and he wouldn’t easily let his brother slip away from him.  He would get Johnny home or die trying.

Johnny slowly opened his eyes, feeling warm and safe and wanting it to last as long as he could.  Smiling, he realized Scott was lying next to him, with one of his arms over him.  He felt his brother’s hand gently stroking the back of his dark head.  He sighed with the knowledge that the big brother he had always wanted was holding him.

“Scott?” Johnny whispered; his pain forgotten for the moment.

“I’m awake,” Scott whispered back.  “I have been for a while now.  I was waiting for the air to warm a little before I move away from you.”

Johnny moved his head back against Scott’s chest, relishing the contact. “Thank you, hermano,” Johnny whispered and closed his eyes again.

“Da nada, hermano,” Scott whispered.  “I’ll always be here for you, little brother.  Always.”

---

Val had no problem finding the six horses belonging to Sanchez and his men.  Leading the horses back to camp, he quickly went through the saddlebags and took out anything he thought they could use.  There wasn’t much to find, but there was some food and coffee and, most importantly, six canteens of water.  He also found a few shirts he felt they could use for bandages.  He smiled as he pulled out a bottle of tequila from one of the bags.  Finally, he took all the guns and rifles and tied them onto the saddle of one of the horses.

Val had no problem seeing which horse belonged to Sanchez.  The whip, still caked with Johnny’s blood and skin, was hanging on the saddle horn.  Val shuddered at the thought of what Sanchez had meant to do once he’d found the boy again.  Val took the whip and looked at his friend; then he hurled it as far as he could into the desert.

Scott gently pushed himself away from Johnny’s side as the morning air began heating up.

Standing and stretching, he looked back down to see that Johnny was still sleeping.  Looking around, he saw Val standing with the horses. 

“We keep this up, and we’re going to have one hell of a horse ranch,” Val said, indicating the eight extra horses they now had.  “Johnny awake yet?”

“He was a little while ago.  I think he went back to sleep.  We need to wake him and get something into him before we head out,” Scott answered.

“Yeah, I sure will be glad to get across the border.  We may have gotten Sanchez, but there are a lot of Rurales still out there,” Val said as he poured a cup of coffee.  “I’m sure they heard about the prison break by now.”

“Do you really believe we’ll cross the border by early afternoon?” Scott asked, pouring a cup of coffee for himself.

Val looked at Johnny.  “Maybe, maybe not. It just depends on how many times we have to stop.” Val glanced at Johnny and sipped his coffee.

Scott nodded his understanding.

Johnny opened his eyes and started to roll over.  The movement sent waves of pain through his entire body.  He gasped and let out a loud moan.  He knew Madrid was fading and Johnny Lancer was fully emerging.  He tried to hold onto Madrid a little longer, but it was useless.

Val was the first to reach him.  “Come on, amigo,” Val said, helping Johnny to sit up. “Sit back against me.”

Val moved Johnny into a sitting position and then let him settle back against his chest just as Scott had done the day before.

Scott looked into Johnny’s eyes and smiled.  His brother was back.

“You doing better now?” Val asked, putting an arm around Johnny’s chest, holding him upright.

“Yeah,” Johnny said while controlling his breathing.  “Thanks for keeping me warm last night, amigo.”

Val laughed, “Well, you kept me warm, too.”

Scott was listening to the two talking as he fixed breakfast. 

Johnny raised his head and looked at the additional horses Val had added to the horse string.

“You find Sanchez’s horse?”

“Yeah,” Val answered.  “It’s right over there.”

Johnny let his head drop, taking a shaky breath.

Val could feel Johnny’s breathing and heart rate increase. 

“Find… find the whip?” Johnny asked, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

Val hesitated.  “Yeah, it was on the saddle.”   He knew what his friend was thinking.  He gently tightened the hold around Johnny’s chest and pulled him closer to him.  “Don’t worry; you’ll never see it again.”

Johnny’s chest heaved under Val’s arm, and his shoulders started shaking.  Tears poured down his face and soaking the thick beard he was wearing.

“Papi,” Johnny gasp out.

“Go ahead, hijo, let it out.  Just let it out.  You’re with family here.  No need to hold back,” Val said, trying to hold back his own tears.  He knew the boy needed to release the emotions he’d been holding in for days.

With just those few words, there was no controlling Johnny as his sobs grew louder, his chest heaved, and his body shook.  Val cradled Johnny’s head with his other arm.  He remembered another night years ago when he had held the same dark head and listened to the boy cry.

Tears spilled down Scott’s face as he watched Johnny’s uncontrollable sobbing.  His brother had been through so much, not only in the last few days but also in his life.  Scott wondered how much one person could endure before giving up altogether.  Finally, Johnny’s sobbing eased and faded away as his head dropped to his chest. 

“He’s asleep,” Scott said, moving to Val’s side. 

“Let him sleep.”

Val laid his friend down onto his bedroll.

An hour later, Johnny woke again, feeling the moisture on his face.  It took him some time to realize that Scott was using a wet bandana to wipe his face.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Johnny said, taking a deep breath.

“Once we get something in you,” Scott replied, taking a cup of broth to Johnny.

Johnny took the warm cup in both his hands.  He stared at it, breathing hard.

Val spoke up, “You gonna drink that or stare at it?”

Johnny didn’t answer. 

Scott moved over to Johnny and put his hand on his arm.  “What’s wrong?”

Johnny still didn’t answer.  He just shook his head. 

“John?” Val softly asked. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Johnny said and started drinking the broth. 

Johnny knew what he had started to say.  He was going to tell them that had Sanchez used the whip again, he would have begged.  He would have begged and prayed Sanchez to end his suffering for good.

“Alright, let’s get you up,” Val said, helping Johnny to stand. “You need to tend to your business before we go?”

Johnny looked at Val, blushing he nodded ‘yes.’

“Nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

Val and Scott got Johnny to be his feet.  Scott held Johnny up while Val unbuttoned his pants.  Both men turned away as Johnny emptied his bladder.  The simple act brought back a memory, and a shudder ran through him.  He would never forget the feeling of urine flowing down his legs as Sanchez’s whip tore into him. 

Once Johnny was finished, Val helped him dress.

Scott mounted his horse and waited for Val to help Johnny into the saddle.  Johnny leaned back into Scott, trying to fight the pain that shot through his back. 

“Move on out, Scott,” Val said.  “I’ll be right behind you with all these damn horses.”

---

Murdoch was getting nervous and impatient.  It had been three days since the prison break and he’d expected to hear something by now.  The worry for his sons increased every moment there was no word from them.  On the second day, he’d started to pace.  When it became evident that his pacing was causing Molly distress, he took to walking around the ranch yard and corrals.  His eyes were always looking toward the east; toward Juarez.

“We’ll hear something today.”

Molly walked up beside the tall rancher.  She had been watching him leaning on the corral, always looking to the east.

“I hope so,” Murdoch answered without turning around.  “I worry about them.  I always worry about them.  Even at home when they are out on the range.  I can’t relax until they’re home and where I can see them.”

“I know part of the story,” Molly said.  “Our son Joshua has written to us telling us about you and Johnny.  I need to thank you for getting him the position at the church in Green River.”

Although Joshua didn’t take their name, Joe and Molly considered Joshua Barns, their son.  Joshua grew up on the ranch, and when he was old enough, the Worthingtons sent the boy to Harvard.  

When Joshua decided to go into the ministry, the Worthington’s were delighted.  Upon graduation, Joshua applied for a position as minister at the church in Green River, California.  None of them knowing at the time, the tie between Murdoch Lancer, the man who’d hired him for the position and Johnny Madrid, the man who helped save the Worthington ranch.

Joshua wrote to his parents shortly after arriving in Green River.  Joshua’s letter went into great detail as to the events of the earthquake that destroyed his church and how he’d almost lost his life.

When Joe and Molly got to the part of the letter telling them about the man who saved his life, and many others that day, they’d both laughed.   They couldn’t believe Johnny Madrid was still keeping their family safe.

Joshua told them of Murdoch Lancer and how his sons had come back to him.  Molly knew the thought of losing them again would be unthinkable.

“Reverend Barns is a good man,” Murdoch answered.  “I’m glad he’s there.  I owe him a great debt for what he did for Johnny.”

“I think it’s our family that owes Johnny the debt, Murdoch,” Molly smiled.  “It appears he just keeps coming to our rescue.”

Murdoch didn’t say anything as he kept looking toward the east.

---

Murdoch followed Molly back to the house.  As they sat on the front porch, Murdoch turned to the woman.

“Molly, tell me about Johnny.”

“About him?” Molly questioned, obviously confused.  “I don’t understand. What do you want to know?”

“Tell me how you met him.”

“Oh, my,” Molly smiled, “that is a story.  Let me think.  Well, the first time I saw him was almost two and a half years ago now.  Another rancher was threatening us, trying to get access to our water.  Joe hadn’t wanted to hire gunfighters, but he realized there wasn’t going to be much choice.

“Joe hired several men.  I stayed away from them as much as I could.  I didn’t like the way they looked or the way they acted.  They all seemed to have dead eyes if you know what I mean.

“One day Val rode in wanting to sign on, and Joe hired him.  I asked Joe about Val.  He looked pretty scruffy to me, but the few times I talked to him…well, he was different from the other men.

“Joe told me Val usually rode with another gunfighter by the name of Madrid.  I think Joe was disappointed Madrid wasn’t with Val. 

“A couple of days after hiring him, Val said he needed to go back to Tucson for a few days.  Of course, Joe didn’t have a choice.  He did make it plain Val wouldn’t be paid for the days he was away.

“Val was gone almost a week.  When he came back, he said Johnny Madrid was going to be coming and wanted to know if Joe would hire him.  Joe knew Madrid’s reputation; everyone in Arizona knew about Madrid.  Joe didn’t hesitate and told Val if Madrid showed up, he’d hire him.” 

Molly stopped her story, shook her head, and laughed.

“Once Joe agreed to hire Madrid, Val asked for a raise.  Val negotiated more pay for himself then negotiated Madrid’s pay.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen Joe look like that.  Val was asking twice as much for Madrid than any of the other men we’d hired.   I remember Joe telling Val that Madrid “damn well better be worth it.”

Murdoch laughed.  “Was he worth it?”

“Murdoch, he was so worth it, but there is more to the story,” Molly explained.   “You see the next day I saw a young man ride in.  He stopped right out there.”  

Molly pointed to a spot close to the front porch.  She remembered that day as if it were yesterday:

“Can I help you, young man?” Molly stepped down from the porch.

The young dark-haired boy pushed his hat back off his forehead. Sapphire blue eyes looked down at her.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m looking for Joe Worthington,” the young man’s voice was so soft she almost couldn’t hear him.

Molly hesitated for a moment, still looking into the young man’s eyes.  Then she saw the gun on his hip and shook her head.  There was certainly no way she was going to allow Joe to hire someone so young.

“Young man, we’ve hired all the men we need,” Molly stated firmly.

The boy smile broadened. The smile filled his face and made her heart flip.  She knew this boy was going to be a heartbreaker when he was older.

“Well, ma’am, I think I’ve already hired on.”

Movement near the barn drew Molly’s attention.  Joe was hurrying toward her with Val Crawford at his side.

“Johnny,” Val called out and waved.

The boy stepped down from the saddle and waited for Joe and Val to get to him.  By this time, all the men were coming out to see who the new arrival was.

Val reached out and shook the boy’s hand and then turned to Joe.

“Mr. Worthington, this is Johnny Madrid.  Johnny, this is our Boss, Joe Worthington.”

“Mr. Worthington,” Madrid drawled and shook Joe’s hand.

Joe Worthington was at a loss for words.  He’d expected to see a hardened gunfighter.  Instead, in front of him stood a handsome young man.  He wondered if the boy had even started shaving.

Val turned to Molly. “Johnny, this is Mrs. Worthington.”

Johnny nodded to Molly.  “We’ve already met.  It’s a pleasure, ma’am,” Johnny said with a smile returning to his face.

“Murdoch, when Val introduced Johnny to Joe and then to me, I can tell you I was shocked.  The boy couldn’t have been over 15 or 16, and he looked like he had been sick.   I learned later that he was recovering from a bullet wound in his arm. 

“That’s how we met him.  Once Johnny was here, he took over as the lead gunfighter.  I thought there would have been some complaints from the older men, but no one seemed to notice or care how young Johnny was.

“With Johnny’s leadership, the range war was over within a week.

“The night of the last gun battle, both Val and Johnny were wounded.  I took care of them until they were on their feet again.  Val’s wound was in the shoulder.   Johnny had a chest wound and it took some time for him to recover.  They stayed with us almost two months before moving on.

“We were worried sick when we heard that the Rurales had captured Johnny.  The night we heard he’d been executed, I cried my eyes out. 

“It couldn’t have been more than three weeks later that we heard that Johnny had escaped the firing squad.  We didn’t know he was in California until we got Joshua’s letter telling us about Johnny and Val.”

Murdoch closed his eyes.  “What month was the range war, Molly?”

“It was January.  Yes, it was January of that year.  Why?”

“Johnny would have just turned 16 when he came here,” Murdoch answered.  “His birthday is in December.”

Molly shook her head.  “Murdoch, the boy who rode in that day, was the oldest man I’ve ever met.  He may have just turned 16, but he was going on a hundred.  How old is he now?”

“Eighteen,” Murdoch answered and looked eastward again.

Molly looked at the anguish in Murdoch’s eyes.

“He’ll be alright.  You’ll see.  Johnny’s going to ride in here with Joe, Scott, and Val any day now.”

“I hope so,” Murdoch answered as Molly patted his hand.

---

It was shortly after lunch when one of the ranch’s vaqueros rode in with two telegrams.

The vaquero handed one telegram to Molly and the other to Murdoch.

As the ranch hands gathered around, Molly read hers aloud.

.

Molly Worthington
Rancho Worthington
Nogales, Arizona

Crossed Rio Grande. STOP.   Will be home in a few days.  STOP.

Love Joe.

.

She crumpled to the ground with tears in her eyes.  Her Segundo ran to her and helped her up.

“My God, he’s coming home,” she sobbed.  “They got him out.”

The Segundo turned to the men in the yard.

“Madrid ha liberado al Patrón de la cárcel. El viene a casa.”
(Madrid has released el Patron from the prison.  He is coming home). 

The vaquero who brought the telegrams turned to Molly. “Senora, there was more news.”

He looked at Murdoch before continuing.  “We know Madrid blew the prison up as planned.  The information from Mexico is that Madrid was…”  The man hesitated.

“Go on,” Murdoch urged.

“I am sorry, Senor, but Juanito was badly hurt.”  He shook his head and continued, “No one knows where he is or if he is even still alive.  The Rurales are searching for him.”

Molly put a hand on Murdoch’s arm.

“Murdoch, open your telegram.  It may be from Johnny,” she said as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

Cipriano and the Lancer men moved to Murdoch’s side.  Murdoch opened his telegram.

Murdoch Lancer
c/o Molly Worthington
Rancho Worthington
Nogales, Arizona

Unsafe to cross at Juarez. STOP.  Will cross at Nogales.  STOP.  J badly hurt.  STOP.

Joe for Val 

With a shaking hand, he gave the telegram to Cipriano, who read it aloud.  The happy voices in the yard died away. 

“Oh, Murdoch, I’m so sorry.” Molly squeezed her new friend’s arm.

Murdoch nodded his head and swallowed hard.  He had to believe his sons and Val would be alright.

“How long will it take for them to get to Nogales?” Murdoch asked.

Cipriano answered, “Four days if they are traveling fast.  If Juanito is injured, it will take longer.”

Murdoch moved to the hacienda’s front porch and collapsed into a chair.  He looked out across the desert and said a silent prayer.

---

On the outskirts of Juarez, two vaqueros sat their horses and waited.  For most of the day, they’d watched Rurales patrols ride along the border, searching for someone.

The men knew who the Rurales were looking for.  They were waiting for the same man.

“Carlos, we must warn Madrid.” Pedro turned to his companion. 

Not waiting for Carlos to reply, Pedro kicked the gelding’s sides and headed south.   He didn’t have to look back; he knew Carlos would follow.

---

Three days now.  They’d been riding toward Juarez for three days.  The heat of the day started building fast. 

Johnny was doing his best to lean back against Scott.  However, there was no way he could settle back without pain shooting through him. 

Scott had been holding Johnny around the waist, and it had been working well.  Scott adjusted himself in the saddle and moved his arm up to Johnny’s stomach.

Johnny’s scream tore caused the horses to spook. “Scott, no.  I can’t… let me down.  I gotta’ get down.”

Scott pulled back hard on the reins, trying to calm his mount. At the same time, he fought a losing battle of trying to hold Johnny in the saddle. 

“Johnny!” Scott jumped off the horse. “Val, help me get him down.”

Together they eased him onto the ground.

Johnny lay moaning, his arms wrapped around his stomach and legs pulled up toward his chest.  He started coughing.  “Dios mio, it hurts.  Can’t go on like this,” he tried to roll over only to have the pain in his back flare up like hot pokers burning through him.

“Just lay there a minute.”

Scott sat and moved his brother’s head onto his lap. Val handed him a wet bandana.  Scott started to wipe the beads of sweat from Johnny’s face and watched, helplessly, as his brother tried to control his breathing and pain.

“Leave me here.” Johnny couldn’t control the pain. “Not going to make it to Juarez.”

Val lifted a canteen to Johnny’s lips.  “We ain’t going nowhere without you.”

Val knew it was just a matter of time before this happened.  Since the night before, Madrid had been fading slowly away until now there was only Lancer. No matter what anyone thought, Val knew Johnny Lancer needed Madrid to survive.

Kneeling next to Scott and Johnny, Val tried to steady his voice. “Hijo, listen to me. You’ve got to try to control the pain.”

Johnny closed his eyes and shook his head. 

Scott watched as Johnny continued to clutch at his stomach.

“Johnny, let me see your stomach?” When Johnny didn’t cooperate, he called for help, “Val, help me.”  

“No, please,” Johnny moaned.

Val reached over and pried Johnny’s arms away from his stomach and opened his shirt.   The massive bruises on the boy’s chest and abdomen had turned shades of purple and black.  The only exception was a blood-red area directly over his stomach.

“Lord, boy,” is all Val could say. 

“Pointed boots,” Johnny chocked out. The pain was easing as he started taking shorter, more controlled breaths.

Val saw that Johnny was trying to go to sleep.

“Johnny, we’ve got to get moving.”

“Can’t,” Johnny whispered.

Val knew what he needed to do.  He didn’t want to do it; however, there was no way he was leaving Johnny behind.

“Never thought I’d see the day that Johnny Madrid would quit.  You gonna lay there and let the Rurales come for you.  You know we ain’t gonna leave you?  The Rurales get you, then they get me and Scott, too.  You want that, Madrid?  You want your brother in the hands of the Rurales?” Val’s words were stinging.

Scott at first started to say something and then realized what Val was doing.  He watched his brother as Val finished.

“Val…,” Johnny pleaded. 

“No, don’t beg me for anything.  Remember, Madrid don’t beg,” Val stood up.  “I’m making camp, Scott.  We’ll wait here until the Rurales catch up.”

Val turned to his horse and started to take off the saddlebags.  Looking over his shoulder, he said, “You know what, Lancer?   That’s right, Lancer.   If you were Madrid, you’d be getting back on that horse and helping us get your sorry ass out of here.”

“Val, you go.” Scott looked up at Val.  “I’ll stay here with him.  No need for both us to go back to that prison.”

“You’re right, but it’s me that needs to stay.  Don’t want your Pa to lose both his sons.  It’s my fault you’re down here in this mess anyway.  I shouldn’t have asked for Johnny’s help, to begin with.”

Val threw the saddlebags on the ground.

“Will you two just shut up for a minute,” Johnny groaned.  “Man can’t get no peace around you two.  You gonna shame me into getting back on that horse, Val?   Just give me a minute.”  

“Give you a minute.  What for?” Val walked back to stand over the brothers.

“Just need a minute.” Johnny closed his eyes.

They watched as Johnny relaxed and his breathing was becoming slow and even.  His eyes opened, and he looked at Scott. 

“No way in hell, Murdoch’s gonna lose you, brother.  Get me back on that damn horse,” Johnny’s voice was low and soft.

Val smiled. Johnny Lancer had found his old friend Madrid.

---

Val looked at the sun.  It was already late afternoon, and they were going to have to set up camp.

The travel to Juarez was slower than even Val had thought possible.   He’d predicted they would have already crossed the Rio Grande.  As it was, he had no idea how far they were from the river.

“Val,” Scott yelled, “we’re going to have to stop.  My rear end is killing me, and I can’t feel my arm any longer.  Johnny’s bent over so bad I think he’s going to fall off the front end.”

Scott stopped and waited for Val to catch up.  “Let’s set up over there.” Val pointed to a grove of cactus.  

As they started toward the spot Val picked out, Scott saw a cloud of dust heading coming closer to them.

“Val, we’ve got trouble.  Riders coming this way, fast.” 

Val looked at Johnny slumped forward on Scott’s horse.  He shook his head and took a deep breath.

“We can’t outrun them.  We’re gonna have to make a stand.  Get the boy off that horse,” Val said as he jumped off his horse and ran to help Scott.  He took Johnny off the horse in one swift move and laid him on the ground.  

Val stood in front of Johnny with his gun drawn.  Scott put a gun in Johnny’s hand and moved to kneel in front of him with his rifle ready.

They saw two riders coming closer.

“Senor Crawford!  Senor Crawford!” one of the riders was yelling.  “We are here to help.  Do not shoot.”

The riders pulled up just out of pistol range, but Scott still had them covered with his rifle.

“Senor Crawford. Senor Garrett.  We are here to help,” the rider said as he moved forward.

“There sure aren’t many around here know my name or yours,” Val said. “Let’s hear them out.”

“Come on in, but keep your hands in the air!” Val yelled back.

As the riders came closer, Val recognized them from the cantina near the prison.

“Senor Crawford, I am Pedro Torres.  This is my cousin Carlos.  We work for Senor Worthington.  We have been watching out for you in case you needed help.” Pedro lowered his hands.

“We saw you in that piss ant village near the prison,” Val growled.   “Why didn’t you tell us who you were then?”

“Senora Worthington told us to stay out of your way.  She did not want us to cause your plan to fail,” Pedro answered.

“Well, what are you doing here now?” Scott asked, glancing down at his feet where Johnny lay.

“We have come from Juarez.  The Rurales are waiting for Senor Madrid.  They know you are going there,” Carlos explained.  “We have come to warn you.  Senor Worthington said for you to go further west to Nogales.  The Rurales have patrols along the border.  Senor Worthington will meet you in Nogales to help you cross.”

“We going to Nogales?” a soft voice asked. 

“Johnny.” Scott moved to Johnny and lifted his shoulders.  “I’m sorry.  We didn’t know what we were dealing with.  Did we hurt you?”

“You mean when you threw me off the horse?” Johnny winced.  “I don’t guess anything else is hurt that wasn’t already.”

“Looks like it’s a good thing we weren’t making better time today,” Val said as he joined Scott and Johnny.

“Si,” Pedro agreed. “We have been waiting for you all day near Juarez.  We thought you would have been there by now.”

“Nogales is a 4 to 6-day trip west of here under the best of conditions.”

Val scratched the beard on his face and looked toward the west. 

“Si,” Pedro said.  “Senor Worthington is already on his way home.  He crossed the border yesterday.  He said to tell you he has sent a message to Nogales to Senora Worthington and Juanito’s Papa.  We are to stay with you until you reach the ranch.”

“We need to set up camp.” Scott looked around. “Johnny needs something to eat and rest.”

“We must move further west before stopping for the night.  The Rurales will be looking for you along this trail.” Carlos said.

“Johnny, we’re going to get you back on the horse,” Scott said with a nod to Val.

Together they got Johnny in the saddle, and Scott stepped up behind him.  An hour later, the two vaqueros had found a campsite near an outcropping of rocks that they could use as protection.  Val went ahead and set up a string line for the horses while Scott took his time getting there.

By the time Scott arrived with Johnny, Val had started a fire and had the coffee made.

Once Scott and Johnny arrived, Val helped shift Johnny off the horse.

The two vaqueros watched without moving.  They just kept staring at Johnny.

“What are you two looking at?” Scott finally had to ask as he covered Johnny with a blanket.

“Senor Madrid,” Pedro responded as if in awe.

“Yes?” Scott looked questioningly.

“Senor Madrid es muy importante para nuestra genteto,” Carlos answered.  “Es un honor ayudarlo.”

Scott looked confused.  “I don’t understand. Val, I caught part of that.  What did he say?”

Val walked over to stand next to Johnny.

Val cleared his throat and smiled. “He said ‘Senor Madrid is very important to our people.  It’s an honor to help him.”  Val repeated Carlos’s words, although it wasn’t anything Johnny hadn’t heard before.

Scott laughed.  “You hear that little brother.”

“I get that a lot down here, Boston,” Johnny said as if it was something that happened to him every day.

Val poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Scott.

“Yeah, Scott didn’t you know he’s a legend down here.”

“Si,” Carlos and Pedro both said at the same time.

Scott and Val laughed.  “Well, this legend needs some food and sleep,” Scott said, turning back to the fire. 

Val helped Johnny sit up against Scott so that he could eat.  Val handed him a cup of broth and watched as Johnny downed it in one gulp.

“You got any more of that?” 

Scott frowned. “You’re sure?  I don’t want you throwing it up again.”

“My stomach feels pretty good right now.  Just a little more, please.” Johnny managed a grin.

“Alright, just a little more.  Then I need to check your bandages,” Scott conceded.  “Val, can you bring over a little more broth?”

“Hold up, amigo.  If Scott’s doing bandages, then I’d better hold off on more broth.  That’s going to hurt, and I’m not sure my stomach can handle it.”

“Pedro, Carlos, do you have any bandages or clean shirts I can use for bandages?” Scott asked, turning to look at the two vaqueros.

“Si, we have bandages and something for pain.”

Pedro reached for his saddlebags, flipped open one side, and came out with a bottle of laudanum.  Handing it to Scott, he opened the other saddlebag and found the bandages.

“Thank God.” Scott held the small brown bottle of laudanum in his hand and sighed.  “I wish we’d had this two days ago.”

“I’ll take that and mix it with a little water,” Val said, reaching for the laudanum.  Within minutes he handed Scott a cup of water with a healthy dose of the pain killer. 

Any other time, Johnny would have protested, taking anything for pain, but not now.  He gladly accepted the laudanum and said a silent prayer that it would work quickly.

Once Scott was sure the laudanum had taken effect, he began removing the blood-soaked bandages.  What he found made him sick.

Scott tried to hold back the bile that was building in his throat.  His stomach rolled as he looked away.  The sight reminding him of those days he’d spent in a Confederate prison camp.  Remembering the marks on his own back, he wondered if they’d once looked like this? 

Scott looked around.  Val, Carolos, and Pedro were all staring at Johnny.  He could tell that they were having the same reaction to his brother’s raw and bloody back.

Val sat down on the other side of Johnny and took a clean cloth and wet it.  He began to gently wipe away as much of the blood and dried blood as he could.  Looking across at Scott, he saw the look of hopelessness in the younger man’s eyes.

“We ain’t givin’ up on him, Scott,” Val drawled.  “Now, let’s get this done.”

Scott saw the pain in Val’s eyes.  He’d heard what Val called Johnny that morning. Hijo.

Johnny called Val, Papi.  Scott knew there was more to their relationship than just friendship. He wondered if that was how they felt about each other? 

One day he’d discover what they meant to each other, but right now, he needed to deal with the present.  There would be time enough to find out about the past.  Scott nodded and began to help. It took almost an hour, but finally, they’d cleaned all the wounds and changed the bandages.

Scott rolled Johnny onto his side and leaned back with a sigh.  Val handed him a cup of coffee, and the two exhausted men sat side by side.

Scott’s eyes were starting to close when he heard a noise.  One look at his brother shaking and Scott knew Johnny was getting cold. 

Scott moved to lie next to his brother when Johnny’s eyes popped open, and he started pushing him away.  Johnny was looking past Scott at Pedro and Carlos.  Scott realized the two vaqueros being present had changed the dynamics. 

“Pedro, Carlos, would you come here,” Scott said, looking at them and then at Johnny.  Val walked over to see what was going on.

“Scott….,” Johnny started to say and winced.

Scott held up a hand.

“Pedro, Carlos, my name isn’t Scott Garrett, it’s Lancer.  I want you to meet someone,” Scott continued, looking at his brother.  “You know him as Johnny Madrid.  I know him as Johnny Lancer, my brother.”

Pedro was the first to speak. 

“You are his hermano?”

“That’s right.”  Scott glanced at Johnny.  “Now, because he is my brother, my hermano, I’m going to treat him like you would a brother.  Right now, my brother is cold.  He needs me to keep him warm.  I know you think of him as a legend that doesn’t need anyone, but you are very much mistaken.   Pedro, do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Si, Senor Gar.. Lancer.”

“Johnny, did you hear what I just told them?  I’m going to keep you warm tonight, just like the last two nights.  If we need Val to help, he will.  Don’t you dare try to push me away again,” Scott said firmly.  “Do you understand me?”

Johnny looked at his big brother and smiled.  “Whatever you say, hermano.  You call the tune,” Johnny answered, still shaking.  

“Damn right I do,” Scott said, as he lay down and gently pulled Johnny toward his chest.  “Val, could you throw my bedroll over us?”

“Let me know if you need anything,” Val put the bedroll over them and then moved back to the fire.

The temperature was dropping, and Johnny wasn’t warming up. 

“Johnny, you need to let me get closer,” Scott whispered to him.  

Johnny buried his head into Scott’s chest and finally drifted off to sleep.

---

The next morning, as they mounted up to leave camp, Val looked west.  It was going to be a long trip.  Instead of Juarez, which was only a few hours north, they were now traveling to Nogales.  Val had made the trip before and knew it was going to take every bit of 4 to 6 days to get there and probably longer considering how slow they were moving.

“You ready?” Val looked at Johnny sitting in front of Scott.

“I got a choice?” Johnny winced and gave his friend a faint smile.

“Nope.”

“Then… I guess I’m as ready as I’m gonna be.  Let’s get moving.”

Val called out, “Pedro, you take point.  Carlos ride drag and make sure no one is following. Scott, go on ahead.”  Grunting, Val looked at the string of horses he still had in tow. “I’ll be right behind you with the horses.”

Scott started to move and then stopped and looked back over his shoulder.  “Val, tell me again why we don’t just let the horses go?”

Val grumbled, “Never can tell when we might need a horse.  Besides, if we meet up with anyone, we can say we’re headed to Nogales to sell them.”

Scott looked around the expanse of desert that surrounded them. He almost asked if Val really thought they’d meet up with someone out here in the middle of nowhere but held his tongue. Hearing a slight snort, he looked down at Johnny’s profile.

“What?”

“Best not to question Val’s reasons.  Sometimes they don’t make a lick of sense, but he always has a reason for everything.”

Scott smiled briefly and then raised a hand to Johnny’s forehead. 

“Yeah, I got a fever.”

“Are you alright to ride?”

“Ain’t got no choice, like Val said.” Johnny’s shoulders slumped and his head rested against Scott’s chest.  “Just get moving.  I’ll do my best to stay up here with you.”

“If you need to stop and rest, you let me know.  Alright?”

Johnny nodded.  There was comfort in knowing Scott was with him. Not for the first time, he was thankful he hadn’t refused his big brother’s offer to come along.

---

During the next few days, the men established a routine. 

At first light each day, the vaqueros mounted up and rode out, scouting the area to make sure it was safe to go on.  When the sun reached its zenith, they’d find what shade they could and set up a day camp.  Once they made camp, Pedro and Carlos would ride out again, continually circling the men they were charged to protect.  When the sun started to drop below the horizon, the vaqueros would pick a campsite and have a fire going by the time Val, Scott, and Johnny got there.  

While Scott and Val tended to Johnny’s needs, Carlos and Pedro took turns doing the cooking and taking care of the horses.  It was the same every day.

When they were three days from the Nogales, Carlos said he would ride ahead to the ranch and let them know Johnny was coming.

Scott pulled the vaquero aside.

“Carlos, if anyone asks, you tell them John Lancer is coming.  Don’t mention Madrid to anyone.  Do you understand?’ Scott cautioned the vaquero.

“Si, Senor Scott, I understand.”

“Oh, and Carlos, my … our father should be at the ranch by now.  Tell him…” Scott looked at Johnny, sleeping near the fire.  “Tell him that if there is any way possible, I’ll get Johnny back to him.”

Carlos took one last look at Johnny and nodded before riding away.

---

Three days after receiving the telegrams from Juarez, a tired and sickly Joe Worthington rode into his ranch.   It had been almost five months since he had last seen his home.  There were tears in his eyes as Molly ran to him.  He dismounted and held out his arms and pulled her close to him.

The Worthington vaqueros and ranch hands were there to greet their boss.  Word of Joe’s escape had reached other ranches north of the border.  Friends from neighboring ranches were there to welcome him home.

“Joe,” Molly held her husband close to her. Tears streamed down her face. “Thank God, you’re home.”

Murdoch and the Lancer men stood back, waiting for the right moment to break into the reunion.

Finally, Joe looked up and noticed Murdoch.  Somehow, he knew who the man was without even being told. 

“Mr. Lancer?” Joe held out a hand.  

“Murdoch,” Murdoch returned the handshake.  “I think we are well past being formal.”

“I have to agree,” Joe smiled, still holding on tight to his wife.

“What can you tell me, Joe?” Murdoch asked anxiously.

The men and woman who had come to greet Joe home moved closer to hear what was said.

“Murdoch…,” Joe hesitated, seeing the hurt on the man’s face, “I wouldn’t be standing here now if it weren’t for Val, Scott, and, especially, Johnny.   They had a plan to get me out.  We… Johnny didn’t count on a man by the name of Sanchez being at the prison.  He recognized Johnny right off the day before the escape.  Johnny said he’d killed Sanchez’s brother when he escaped from the firing squad earlier this year.”  Joe stopped and shuddered, remembering the look on Sanchez’s face as he whipped the boy.

“Sanchez gave him a beating that first day and again the next morning.  The day of the escape, Sanchez was drunk.  He dragged Johnny out into the compound and…”  Joe stopped and looked away.  He couldn’t look at Murdoch and tell him what Sanchez had done.

“Go on, Joe.” Murdoch paled. “What did that bastard do to my son?” 

“He had him tied him to the whipping posts in the middle of the compound and used a bullwhip on him.  He kept telling Johnny to beg him to stop.  Johnny refused to beg.  The only words Johnny ever said was, ‘Madrid don’t beg.’  

“Sanchez whipped him until he was unconscious.  Murdoch his back….” Joe couldn’t finish.  “The last time I saw him, Scott and Val were carrying him out the gates of the prison.”

Murdoch looked as if he was going to be sick.

“Murdoch, I have two men that should be with them by now.  They have instructions to stay with Johnny until he gets back here.  I’m going to Nogales as soon as I get some rest.  We’ll set up a camp on the American side and wait for them.  We’ll do everything we can to get them back across the border safely.” 

Joe slumped in Molly’s arms.

“I need to get him inside, Murdoch,” Molly tightened her hold on Joe.  “You can talk later after he’s rested.”

“Of course.  I’m sorry.  Do you need help?”

“No, I’ve got him.”  With that, Molly helped her husband into the house. 

Murdoch’s nightmare was coming true.  The horrible dream he’d suffered through more times than he could remember since his sons left Lancer.  The image of Johnny lying in the desert with blood covering his back flashed before him.  

“Patron,” Cipriano reached out and squeezed Murdoch’s arm, “we will get them home.  Juanito is strong.  His hermano and Val are with him.  We must have faith.”

“He’ll be alright, boss,” Walt spoke up.  “We’ll make sure of it.”

---

For the four men traveling slowly toward Nogales, the next two days had gone as the prior four.  It didn’t seem that Johnny was getting stronger.  It had been six days since they had left the prison.  They were still at least two full days from the Nogales when Scott told Val they needed to rest.  Scott lost his grip and Johnny slumped forward. 

Scott pulled him back once again.

“How far until we camp?” Johnny leaned back against Scott.

“Another hour.” Scott put an arm around Johnny’s waist.

“I can make it.  No need to stop.” Johnny knew that more delays would only cause additional hardship on Val and Scott.  He was painfully aware that he was the cause of the delays and the reason they were not already across the border.

Each morning Johnny assessed his injuries.  His back hurt more than he could tell them, but his main concern was the stomach pain.  His stomach hurt all the time and even worse when he tried to eat.   A weak jerky broth was all he could handle.  However, the moment the food hit his stomach, it went into spasms.   He knew the kick from Sanchez’s boot had done more damage than he’d told them.

Pedro found a campsite again using a large rock outcropping near a spring.  They helped Johnny off the horse and he was able to sit up against the rocks to rest.  

Johnny ran his hand over his face and tugged at the dark, dirty beard he’d grown.  He thought it was time for a shave.

“Val,” Johnny waved his friend over.

Val knelt next Johnny.  “What do you need, amigo?”

“Can you get me my shaving gear?” Johnny asked, running his hand over his beard.  “I’d like to get rid of this hair.”

“Sure thing,” Val smiled. “You need some help?”

“Probably,” Johnny grinned. “Not sure I can do it myself and not cut my throat.”

Val looked at Johnny’s hair.  They hadn’t had enough water until now to get the dried blood out it.  “You know that hair of yours could use some washing.”

“Think you can help me with that, too?”

“Don’t see why not.”

Twenty minutes later, Scott and Pedro returned from taking care of the horses to find Val putting the finishing touches on Johnny.

Scott stopped and looked at his brother.  Now that the beard was gone, it was evident just how pale and thin Johnny was. 

“Now that’s the face I remember,” Scott said, smiling.  “Feel better?”

“Much,” Johnny smiled back, rubbing his chin.  “Darn thing was tickling me.”

“Tickling you?  What do you think about me?  It’s been tickling me every night,” Scott laughed.

“Only two more nights and you’ll be rid of me, Boston.  You won’t need anyone to keep you warm once we get back to Joe and Molly’s,” Johnny laughed.

“Keep me warm?” Scott huffed.  “I think you’re confused, little brother.”

Johnny put his hand on the back of his neck and felt his hair.  “Think you can cut some of this hair off my neck?” Johnny asked.  “It’s getting kinda’ long even for me.”

“Let me see what I can do.” Scott sat down and reached for a knife from his saddlebags. 

Within a few minutes, he had cut what he could.    

“There you go,” Scott said as he leaned back, admiring his handy work. “I can’t do much without scissors, but I got some of it off.”

Johnny felt the back of his neck again. “Thank, brother.” 

The camp was quiet.  Val and Pedro were taking turns standing guard, while Scott got Johnny ready for the night.   

Johnny was lying on his side when suddenly he pushed himself up, shooting pain throughout his body.

“Val, riders are coming this way,” Johnny said through gritted teeth.  “Scott, get me my gun.”

Pedro looked confused.

“Johnny heard riders coming in.  Always trust his hearing.” Val waved Pedro to the rocks. “Get over there and keep us covered.”

Pedro and Val took cover behind the rocks.  Scott knelt next to Johnny.  Johnny slid on his side and then turned over onto his stomach, sorry the moment he did.  Lying on his stomach with his gun in his hand, he waited and listened.

“Hello, the camp,” a disembodied voice broke the still night air. “Saw your campfire and thought we might get warm.”

Val called back. “We don’t really cotton much to visitors if you know what I mean.  How many are there of you?”

“Three,” the voice yelled back. 

Val looked at Johnny, who nodded, agreeing there were three.  Val looked at Johnny, questioning what they should do.

Johnny gave a painful shrug.  He didn’t like the idea of strangers in camp.  He liked even less the idea of strangers and having no idea where they were.

“Let them come in, Val.  I need to move further back toward the rocks,” Johnny groaned.  “Of all the days to shave that beard off.”

Scott helped Johnny up and moved him to lean back against the rocks away from the firelight.  Satisfied Johnny was far enough away that no one could see his face, Scott put a blanket over his brother and then moved back to the campfire.

“Come on ahead,” Val yelled to the strangers, “but keep your hands where I can see them.”

The three riders walked to the edge of the camp leading their horses.  They stood with their hands away from their guns, sizing up the men around the campfire.  They could see the fair-haired man holding a rifle and a 2^nd man with a pistol.  The third man, who appeared to be a Mex, covered them from the rocks at the edge of the camp.

“We sure do appreciate you letting us sit a while. I’m Clint Jacobs, and these two fellows are Matt Hammond and Bill Jasper.  The nights seem to be getting colder around here.  We’d appreciate some coffee., that is if you can spare any.”

“Help yourself,” Val told them, not offering his name.  “You’ll have to use your own cups.”

“Thanks.” Jacobs went around to his saddlebags and brought out 3 cups.

“What are you three doing out this way?” Val asked, watching every move the men made.

“Heading for Nogales,” Jacobs answered as he poured coffee into the cups. 

“Well, that’s the only place around that I know has a decent saloon,” Val laughed.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Hammond replied with a laugh.  “You three got business in Nogales?”

“No, we’re just riding through.  Picked up a string of horses hoping to sell them once we’re over the border. Why are you fellows heading for Nogales?”

“Thanks,” he said as he took a cup of coffee from Jacobs and took a quick sip.  “We heard tell there was going to be some gunplay in Nogales in the next couple of days.”

Scott could have sworn he had felt Johnny become ridged behind him.

“You don’t say.  What kinda’ gunplay?”

“Heard tell Johnny Madrid is going to be in town,” Jacobs answered.

“Madrid,” Val laughed and shook his head, “whew.  I thought he was dead.”

“Nope,” Hammond chimed in. “He’s alive.  Folks are saying Madrid escaped from some prison over in Chihuahua a few days ago.  Not sure what he was doing there, but they’re saying he blew the place apart.  Rurales were waiting for him in Juarez, and he got away from them.  Word all along the border is he’s headed to Nogales.  Gunhawks from everywhere are heading that way to make sure the Rurales don’t get him.”

Val was stunned.  Letting the breath out he was holding, he managed to say, “You mean them gunhawks are making sure the Rurales don’t get him so they can get him themselves, don’t you?

“Wouldn’t say that exactly,” Jacobs answered, taking another sip of his coffee.  “Seems most of them, including us, just want to make sure he gets back across the border in one piece.  No one deserves to be caught by the Rurales.”

“Besides,” Jasper spoke up, “those that are telling about that prison break said Madrid is hurt bad.  No self-respecting gunhawk is going to take on Madrid if it can’t be in a fair fight.”

Clint Jacobs craned his neck to look into the darkness behind Scott. “Say you got someone else with you or is it just you three?”

“We got a sick cousin back there,” Val answered.  “Don’t want to disturb him.”

Taking the hint, Jacobs said, “Well, guess we’ll be going.  Appreciate the coffee.” Draining his cup, he stood up and turned to his horse. “See you in Nogales.”

“Yeah, see you,” Val answered, watching the three men mount their horses.

No one moved for several minutes after they rode away.  Val looked back at Johnny to see if he heard anything. 

“They’re gone,” Johnny whispered.

Scott moved back to help Johnny to his feet and back toward the fire.

“Pedro, can you get me that blanket?  I want to sit him next to the fire for a few minutes.  He’s freezing,” Scott said, holding Johnny up.

Val took the blanket from Pedro and laid it down.  Scott helped Johnny to sit down before moving in behind him.

“Well, that cuts it.” Val shook his head and squatted down next to the fire.  “What do you think we need to do, Johnny?”    He looked at his friend.  The boy was pale even in the firelight and shaking from the cold.  “How the hell did they find out you were coming this way?”

Johnny’s teeth were chattering.  “It doesn’t matter how they found out.  The only thing I want is to get across the border.  Right now, the damn Rurales scare me more than gunhawks.   Gunhawks, I know and understand.  I know what to expect.  Rurales only have one thing on their minds, and that’s to kill me.”

“Gunhawks want to kill you, too,” Scott said as he wrapped his arms around Johnny’s shoulders, pulling him closer to him.

“True,” Johnny answered, starting to feel warm again. “In a gunfight, at least I have a chance to defend myself.”

“Johnny, you sure those three are gone?” Scott asked, noticing his brother’s head was starting to nod.

“They’re gone,” Johnny said softly.  “Heard three horses riding away.  May want to keep our eyes open, though.  Don’t like it that we got a visitor out of nowhere.  I figure Rurales will be looking this far out, too.”

“We’ll worry about the Rurales when the time comes,” Scott said. “Right now, you need to rest.  Val, would you get his bedroll?  I’m going to lay him down right here.”

Val moved the bedroll to the fire and helped Scott to lay Johnny down.  Johnny was asleep the moment his head was down.

Going back to the fire, Val sat down and looked at Scott.  “He don’t look like he’s getting any stronger.” 

“He needs rest—a lot more than he’s getting sitting on a horse every day.   Right now, he needs someone to keep him warm.  I can stand to watch if you want to get some sleep.”

Val laughed, “Naw, I’ll let you keep him warm.  Don’t feel right me doing it with Pedro here.  Besides, I don’t trust those three not to circle back on us.”

Scott nodded and moved next to Johnny and laid down.  As he had done since the first night after leaving the prison, he pulled his brother close, smiling when Johnny sighed and snuggled closer.

---

Riding a short distance away from the campfire at a walk, Jacobs stopped.  

“Not enough moon to see where we’re going. We’d better wait until morning.”

“Wish we’d stayed back there by the fire,” Hammond grumbled.

Jasper snorted. “Well, we weren’t exactly welcome back there.  Were we?”

“There was something funny about those men.” Jacobs looked back across the desert at the faint glow of the campfire. “Wish we could have seen that ‘sick cousin’ they had hidden in the rocks.”

“You don’t think it was Madrid, do you?” Hammond asked.  “Word is that he was hurt real bad.  That could be the ‘sick cousin.”

“Could be.  Let’s hold up in the morning and take a look.  If it is Madrid, those fellows are gonna need some help.”

All three nodded in agreement and settled down for the night.

---

The sun was starting to climb over the horizon when Val walked over to wake Scott up.  Scott’s eyes were already open.

“We need to get moving,” Val quietly said as Scott push himself away from Johnny.

“Give him a few more minutes and I’ll wake him.”

“I’m awake.”  Johnny opened his eyes. Looking at Val, he said, “No sign of our friends from last night?”

“No.  They didn’t come back.  We’ll keep our eyes open for them today.”

Following their morning routine, Scott helped Johnny get ready to travel.  Once they cleaned up the camp and the saddlebags and bedrolls tied down, Scott mounted his horse and waited.  Val gently lifted Johnny into the saddle in front of him.  

“Pedro, ride ahead and make sure we don’t have no company,” Val waved to the vaquero. “Move on out, Scott. I’m right behind you.”

---

The three strangers from the night before watched from a distance as the men from the camp started moving. 

“I only see three horses with riders,” Jacobs said. “Jasper, can you make out anything?”

“The fourth man is riding with the blonde fellow, but I can’t make out anything about him from here.”

“I bet you anything it’s Madrid,” Hammond said as he turned to his friends.  

“Bet it is.  Madrid must be in a bad way if he has to ride double.” Jasper strained to look again at the riders in the distance.  “Well, what do we do?  We ride along out here and watch out for them or do we go into Nogales and see what’s going on?”

“I say we check out Nogales.  The way they are moving, it’s gonna be at least another two or three days before they get there,” Jacobs replied as they reined their horses around and headed north.

---

Walt, Frank, Juan, and Jose spent the day in Nogales trying to find out any new information they could about Johnny or the prison break.  

For the most part, the information they were able to gather was no more than they already knew. Rumors were running rampant.  With each telling of the escape from the prison, some new and even greater exploit was attributed to Madrid.  The one thing that wasn’t changing was that Nogales was full of gunfighters and Rurales.

The four men did find out one piece of information they thought their Boss should know as soon as possible.

Two days after coming home, Joe Worthington set up a temporary camp north of Nogales.  Once the neighboring ranchers heard what Joe was doing and why they wanted to join him.  The encampment seemed to grow larger each day.

As the Lancer’s hands rode into the temporary camp, they found Murdoch sitting in front of one of the tents with Molly and Joe.  Cipriano and some of the Worthington vaqueros walked toward them as they dismounted.

“Mr. Lancer,” Walt said as the men followed him toward their Boss.

“Walt, anything new?” Murdoch asked as he stood up.

“No new news out of Mexico.  Everyone is still waiting around.  The gunfighters keep pouring into town, and so do the Rurales,” Walt said as he looked at Murdoch’s anxious face.  “We did hear one thing that I think you should know.  It seems the Mission in Nogales is holding a special Mass tomorrow for Johnny.”

“A Mass?” Murdoch couldn’t hide the look of surprise on his face.

Molly and Joe came to stand beside him.

“Si, Patron,” Juan spoke up. “A Mass is to be held for Johnny, and there will be prayers said for him.  It is said there was also a special Mass for him in Juarez yesterday.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Murdoch looked out at the faces of the vaqueros watching him.  “I think I would like to attend the Mass myself.  Molly, will you go with me?”

“I would be honored, Murdoch, as would my men.” Molly laid a hand on the tired man’s shoulder.  “I don’t think you know how much your son means to the people here and in Mexico.”

“Si, Senor Lancer,” Molly’s Segundo spoke up. “Senor Madrid is considered a champion, a hero of the people.”

“I’ve heard that before, but I never realized what it meant until now. Molly, there’s a lot about my son I don’t know.  I have to admit Johnny has always been a riddle to me.  One that until recently, I have to admit, has eluded me.”

Molly smiled at her new friend, “Well, my friend, how does it feel being the father of a legend?”

“A legend?” Murdoch shook his head.  The thought frightened the hell out of him. He had no idea how to be the father of a legend; he had enough trouble just being a father.

The next day everyone, except Joe rode into Nogales.

Murdoch walked into the Mission church and stopped dead in his tracks.  It was standing room only.  He, Molly, and the men who had ridden in with them stood in the back as the Mass began. 

He still couldn’t believe so many people cared about his son.  He listened to the prayer and heard the name Johnny Madrid.   He, along with everyone else, lowered his head and prayed.

Those in the church prayed for Johnny Madrid.  He prayed for the safe return of both of his sons. 

---

It took two days for Carlos to reach Nogales.  The entire time he was riding, he thought of how long it was going to take Senor Crawford and the others to get there.  He knew it would be many days yet before Madrid would have to deal with trying to cross the border.

Carlos rode into Nogales, intending to rest before moving onto Rancho Worthington.  The first thing Carlos noted was an unusual number of gunfighters on the boardwalks and in the cantinas. The second was the number of Rurales patrols walking and riding through town.  He’d seen several patrols as he was riding in.

An hour after entering Nogales, Carlos was mounting his horse to move on when he saw other vaqueros from the ranch.  The vaqueros told him of the temporary camp and Carlos didn’t waste time getting there.

The camp wasn’t hard to find.  It covered a large area to the east of town just over the border.  Riding into camp, Carlos stopped one of the men he knew and asked which tent belonged to his Patron.

“Senora Worthington,” Carlos shouted as he dismounted.

“Carlos,” Molly ran to the man.  She looked past him expecting to see Pedro, “Carlos, where’s Pedro?  Is he with Johnny?”

Murdoch and the Lancer men had joined Molly. Joe walked up behind his wife.

“Si, Senora, Pedro is with Juanito and the others. I left them, dos dias, two days past. I came ahead to tell you that they are coming.”

“My sons, how are they?” Murdoch asked.

Carlos took his hat off.  Holding it in front of him, he turned to Murdoch.  “You are Juanito and Senor Scott’s Papa?” Carlos asked as Murdoch nodded his head. “Senor Scott is well.  Juanito he is…,” Carlos lowered his head.

“Carlos, how is Johnny?” Joe asked.

“Patron,” Carlos smiled, “it is good to see you.”

“Carlos?” Murdoch urged the man to continue.

“Senor, Juanito is hurt badly.  He is in much pain and very weak.  That is why they are moving slowly.  It will be days before they reach Nogales.  Pedro and I had bandages and medicine for pain.  We gave it to Senor Scott for Juanito.”

“I’ll kill Sanchez with my own two hands,” Murdoch hissed.

“There is no need, Senor.  Sanchez and his men followed Juanito from the prison. Trust me, Senor, Sanchez will hurt no one ever again.  Juanito killed the bastard.”

Carlos watched the emotions flash across the gringo’s face.  He wanted to tell the tall man that he had a brave son, but he was sure that Senor Lancer already knew that.

“Senor, there are many gunfighters in Nogales,” Carlos stated.

“We know,” Murdoch nodded.  “They started coming in a few days ago.  We don’t know why.”

“They come for Juanito,” Carlos stated.

“All those men want to call my son out?” Murdoch said as he rubbed his face and looked around at Cipriano.  He saw the worry in his old friend’s face.

‘Would this nightmare ever end?’

“No, Senor Lancer,” Carlos quickly replied, “you do not understand.  I stopped at the cantina.  I have been listening.  The pistoleros are not here to hurt Senor Madrid; they are here to help him.  They are here to protect him from the Rurales.”

Murdoch and Joe both turned to look at Carlos.

“Are you sure?” Murdoch asked.

“Si,” Carlos replied. “I am very sure.”

“Carlos, can you take us back to Johnny and Scott?” Murdoch asked.  

“Si,” Carlos answered. 

Murdoch didn’t have to tell Cipriano what to do.  The Segundo called out to the men from Lancer, “Saddle the horses.” 

“Murdoch, you know I want to go with you, but I can’t go back into Mexico,” Joe explained unnecessarily.  “I’m still a wanted man across the border.”

“Joe, there’s no need to explain.  I understand. Putting you back into danger won’t help and would most assuredly have my sons mad at me,” Murdoch replied. 

Fifteen minutes later, Cipriano had Murdoch’s horses saddled. 

Joe went to his tent and came back with two saddlebags.

“Here,” Joe handed Murdoch the saddlebags, “you may need these.  Medical supplies.  Some bandages, antiseptic, and laudanum.   Some of my men want to come with you also.”

“Joe, I don’t know what we’re going to be up against.  Are your men sure?”  Murdoch asked, looking at the waiting vaqueros.

“Senor Lancer,” Carlos spoke up, “we are honored to help Senor Madrid.”

“Thank you, Carlos.  Now, please take me to my sons.”

---

Bill Jasper walked out the batwing doors of the saloon.  He and his friends had arrived in Nogales the day before.  On the ride in, they’d discussed Madrid and what they were going to do in the coming days. They were still undecided about what they were going to do.

Jasper turned to go back inside when he heard the sound of several horses moving down the street.  At the lead of the men on horseback was a tall man who was no doubt a rancher.  However, the men who followed him were a mixture of cowhands and vaqueros.

Jasper hurried back to the doors.

“Jacobs. Hammond, get out here!”

Clint Jacobs was out the door first.  “Yeah, whata you want?”

“Look there.” Jasper pointed to the riders, still passing the saloon.

“What of it?” Hammond asked, joining his friends on the boardwalk.

“I bet they’re going out to meet up with Madrid,” Jasper answered.

“What was that you said?”

The men turned to see a tall man, dressed in black, leaning against the building. Glancing at the gun tied low on his leg, they knew he was a gunfighter.

The gunhawk lit a cigarette, took a few steps forward, and flipped the still burning match into the street.

“Well, just that it looks like those vaqueros and cowhands are riding out to meet up with Madrid,” Jasper repeated. “We think we saw him two days ago out south of town.”

“That means he will be here by tomorrow,” the gunfighter drawled.  A slight smile crossed his mustached face as he took another puff on the cigarette.

“Nope.  Ain’t no way they’ll be here tomorrow.  They’re moving slow.” Jacobs volunteered.  “We figure it will be at least two more days.  What they’re saying about Madrid is true.  He’s hurt bad.   He’s riding double.”

“Look at that.” Hammond pointed to the other end of town.  “It looks like more Rurales are riding in.  They must have a hundred or more in town by now.”

“You know, I think we should ride back out there and join up with Madrid before he gets much closer,” Jacobs said.  “Ain’t no way he’s going to be able to defend himself in the condition he’s in.”

“We’ll leave at first light,” Hammond said before turning back to the saloon.

The gunfighter slowly nodded his head as if making a decision, then flicked his cigarette into the dusty street and walking back into the saloon.

---

“Val, we need to stop,” Scott yelled back to Val.  “He needs to rest.”

“Guess there’s no need to rush now that we know what’s ahead of us.”  Val turned to the vaquero. “Pedro, can you find us a place to camp?  Is there a water hole around here?”.

“Si, Senor Val.  Up ahead and not far,” Pedro replied.  “I will ride ahead.”

Twenty minutes later, Val saw Pedro waving at them.  He had already started a fire.

“Johnny, we’re going to stop here for the night,” Scott said as he stopped next to Pedro.  “Pedro, help me get him down.”

Johnny didn’t even have the strength to acknowledge what Scott was saying.  He was tired and hurt all over.  All he wanted to do was lay down.

Scott and Pedro leaned Johnny back against a rock.  They watched as his head fell to his chest.

“Val, he can’t even keep his head up,” Scott said, looking from Val to Johnny.  “We need to stay here for at least a full day.  He’s in no condition to face what’s in Nogales the way he is.”

“Got to admit you’re right.” Val agreed. “We’ll stay here tonight and tomorrow night. We’ve still got to face Nogales at some point.”

“I’ll get him some broth,” Scott said, moving to the fire.  They were now running low on coffee and food.  They had some jerky left that Johnny couldn’t eat.  The only thing they had that Johnny could hold down was a weak jerky broth.

Pedro was listening. “I will see if I can find something to eat. Perhaps I can persuade un Conejo to join us tonight.”  The man grinned and moved away from the camp.

Scott looked at Val and cocked his head.

“A rabbit.”

Scott smiled. 

Twenty minutes later, Val and Scott were sitting near the fire when they heard a shot followed quickly by a second.  It wasn’t long before Pedro walked back into camp with a broad smile on his face and a rabbit in his hand and something else in the other.

“What’s he carrying?” Scott stood to watch Pedro come closer.

Pedro held up the rabbit, then a snake. “La Culebra was after our dinner, so I invite him as well.”

“Scott, you ever ate snake?” Val grinned.

“No, but right now, I’m willing to give it a try.”

Pedro sat down to clean and cook the rabbit while Val skinned the snake.  Pedro cut pieces of the rabbit off and handed them to Scott to make a broth for Johnny.

Val, Scott, and Pedro ate in silence, thankful for the first meat they’d eaten in days. They were all pleased to see that Johnny was able to drink the broth and keep it down.

When bed down for the night, Scott moved in next to Johnny and pulled his brother close.  He didn’t even know if Johnny was aware he was there.

As Scott lay there with his brother in his arms, he thought about Nogales.  They had no idea how they were going to get across the border.  The thought of losing his brother made Scott hold the younger man even closer. 

Scott smiled as Johnny snuggled into him.  He was finally a big brother.  Scott had someone he’d grown to love lying next to him, and he wasn’t prepared to lose him now.

---

Murdoch and his men rode until the sun was setting before making camp.  They quickly had two fires going to ward off the cold. 

Cipriano was adding wood to the fire as Murdoch moved closer to it.

“How has Johnny been able to deal with this cold?” Murdoch asked Carlos.

“Senor Scott keeps his hermano warm,” Carlos answered while watching the fire.

Murdoch looked at him, confused.  “How?”

“Juanito is very weak.  He shakes from the cold.  Senor Scott holds Juanito at night and keeps him warm.  Some nights Senor Crawford also has to help,” Carlos answered.  “Juanito’s hermano takes good care of him.”

Murdoch’s heart ached.  The thought of Scott keeping his brother warm and alive overwhelmed him.  He wanted nothing more than to see and hold both of his sons at that moment.  

---

Morning found Johnny still sleeping.  For the first night since leaving the prison, Scott was pleased with the way Johnny had rested during the night and believed the rabbit broth was the reason. 

Scott was fixing breakfast for Johnny while Val stoked the fire, and Pedro was tending the horses.  

Scott stood and looked to the north.

“Val, riders.  Lots of riders!” he yelled.

Johnny stirred and looked in the direction Scott had indicated.  “My gun, Scott,” Johnny called out weakly.

Scott helped Johnny to sit up behind some boulders and put his gun in his hand.  Scott moved to the other side of the rocks with his rifle and knelt on one knee.  Val and Pedro took positions on either side of him.

Val looked behind him.  The gun lay loosely in Johnny’s hand.

“You know he ain’t able to lift that gun, let alone fire it,” Val said, looking at Scott.

Scott could see his brother’s bowed head. “I know, but there’s no way I’m leaving him defenseless.”

Val nodded his agreement.  They both turned their attention back to the advancing riders.

The dust cloud moved closer.  Off in the distance, three rifle shots broke the still air.

Pedro suddenly jumped up and turned to Val.

“It is Carlos.  That is our signal.”

Pedro ran to his horse and rode toward the source of the shots.

A few minutes later, Pedro rode back in with Carlos by his side.  Both men were grinning.  Carlos jumped from his horse and walked directly to Scott.

“I have returned, Senor Scott.” Carlos pointed to the riders moving closer.  “I have brought your Papa.”

Scott looked back at Johnny.  He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry with relief.  Scott stood up and moved next to Val.

The riders came to a stop.  When Murdoch saw Scott, he jumped from his horse and ran to his son. 

Val stood up as Murdoch rushed by him.  Recognizing Cipriano and the men from Lancer, Val went over to shake their hands.

“You fellows are sure a sight for sore eyes,” Val said with a smile on his face, grasping each of their hands.

Murdoch stopped in front of Scott, reaching out he pulled his oldest son to his chest.  The tears that had been pooling in Scott’s eyes finally flowed freely.  Murdoch leaned back and looked into the face of his oldest son.  He reached up and wiped the tears from his cheeks. 

“It is good to see you, …Pa,” Scott said.

Murdoch felt a tear slide down his cheek when he heard the word ‘Pa’ used by Scott versus Murdoch or Sir.

“It’s good to see you too, son,” Murdoch was finally able to speak. “I’ve been worried about you, both of you. Where’s your brother?”

“Back there.” Scott pointed to the rocks behind him.           

Murdoch followed Scott to the other side of the rocks. 

Murdoch’s eyes dropped to his youngest son.  His heart seemed to stop. Johnny was thin and pale.  It looked like he had lost a good twenty pounds since the last time he had seen him.  Murdoch knelt and put his arms around the boy.  Johnny’s head came to rest on his father’s chest.

Murdoch stroked the dark head of his son and felt another tear slide down his cheek.

“How did you get here?” Scott asked.  “How did you know where we were?”

“Molly said you got my telegram telling you I was on my way.  We’ve been with Molly and Joe Worthington waiting for you,” Murdoch answered as he leaned Johnny back against the rock.  “Scott, Nogales isn’t safe for Johnny.”

“We know.  We heard there were Rurales and gunfighters both waiting on us,” Scott said, looking down at his brother.

“There are, but we can talk about that later. We’ve brought food and medical supplies.”

“Thank heavens,” Scott answered. “We need everything you’ve got.”

Scott laid his rifle down and went to Johnny’s side.  Val had been watching and went to help Scott pick Johnny up and move him back to his bedroll.

“He needs to lay down,” Scott said as he and Val got Johnny to his feet. “He’s getting weaker instead of stronger.  He needs something to eat.  I’m afraid all he’s had in the last few days is the broth.”  

“I can fix that.” Murdoch straightened up and turned to his Segundo. “Cipriano, can you get some food started for them. What’s Johnny eating?” Murdoch turned back to Scott.

“Not much, I’m afraid,” Scott answered.  “Pedro managed to shoot a rabbit last night.  I made a broth out of it, but before that, we’ve only had jerky broth to give him.  He can’t hold anything else down.”

“Cipriano, we need a good meat broth for John,” Murdoch said as he moved back to his youngest son. 

“You said you have medical supplies.  Does that include bandages?” Scott asked hopefully, as he and Val laid Johnny down and rolled him onto his side.

“Yes, and lots of them.”

Scott covered his brother with a blanket.

“His bandages should be changed, but we ran out of them a few days ago. He should eat before I change them.”

It didn’t take long for Cipriano to get food and a meat broth ready.

Scott lifted Johnny’s shoulders and leaned him back into his chest.  Cipriano handed him a cup of the broth.

“Johnny, can you hear me?  I’ve got something for you to eat.”

Johnny barely acknowledged him as Scott held the cup to his lips. It took almost twenty minutes for Scott to get the broth down his brother as he struggled to swallow it.  Finally, Scott gave up when Johnny refused any more. 

Scott laid Johnny down.

“We’ve been worried, son,” Murdoch said as he watched his two sons together.  “We’ve only heard bits and pieces of what happened at the prison.”

Scott shook his head.  “Can we talk about it later, Murdoch?  I need to rest for a while before changing his bandages.”

“Lay down, son.  You look done in.  These last few days couldn’t have been easy.  I’ll check with Cipriano.”

Murdoch squeezed his oldest son’s shoulder as Scott lay down next to his brother. He noted Scott placed a protective arm over the younger man.

It was three hours before Scott sat up and stretched.  Looking around, he saw his father and the Lancer men sitting next to the fire talking to Val.  Standing, he walked over to them.

Walt looked up as Scott came closer.  “Good to see you, Scott.”

“You don’t know how good it is to see you, all of you.  I could almost kiss you,” Scott laughed as he sat down.

Murdoch handed Scott a cup of coffee and looked at Val.

“Val was just telling us about everything that happened since you left Lancer.”

Val had a cup of coffee in his hand and took another sip of the hot liquid. 

“Well, like I was saying, we crossed the Rio Grande at Juarez and headed south to Nuevo Casa Granda.  The prison is just south of it near a small village with nothing more than a cantina.”

Val told the story with everyone hanging onto each word. When he told them about the prison and Sanchez, he paled in the telling.  Taking another sip of coffee, Val continued by relaying the information about the prison break.  Finally, he told them what they had been through since leaving the prison. 

Murdoch hung his head as he listened to the tale, glancing over at his sleeping son.  He wanted …. he didn’t know what he wanted.  He felt like hitting something.  He felt like crying.  He felt…. he felt like going over and picking his son up in his arms and holding him tight to his chest and never letting him go.

After Val finished, everyone sat quietly for a long time.   Finally, Scott looked around at his brother.   “I need to get those bandages changed.”  

Scott got up and walked back to the sleeping man.

“Johnny,” Scott shook his brother’s shoulder, “Murdoch brought fresh bandages.  I need to change yours.  Are you up to it?”

Johnny slowly opened his eyes.  “Murdoch?  Murdoch’s here?”

“Yes, son,” Murdoch knelt next to his son.  “I’m here.”

“Thought I was dreaming,” Johnny said with a weak smile. 

“It’s no dream, son.  I’m here, and so is your uncle.  I brought some of the men with us. Walt, Frank, Juan, and Jose are here too,” Murdoch placed a hand on the side of his son’s face.

It was as if all the emotions Johnny had held in over the past days wanted to come out.  He wanted so badly at that moment to be held by his father, and he wanted to go home.  Johnny looked into his father’s eyes seeing tears welling there.  He swallowed the lump in his throat and his chest heaved.

“Can you take me home, Papa?”

“I’m surely going to try, son,” Murdoch answered, stroking his son’s face.  “I’m surely going to try.”

Cipriano and the Lancer men moved closer to look at Johnny.  The Worthington vaqueros looked on in the same awe that Pedro and Carlos had shown on their first day with Johnny.

“I’m going to change your bandages.  Are you up to it?” Scott asked, lifting Johnny back to a sitting position.

“Yeah.  Got some of that laudanum?  Not much, just enough to take the edge off,” Johnny answered. 

Murdoch was surprised his son had asked for the painkiller.

“Let’s get your shirt off,” Scott said.  “Val, I need your help.”

“I can help,” Murdoch stepped forward and reached for Johnny.

Johnny reached up and took Murdoch’s arm.  “No, old man. Scott and Val know how bad it is.  You don’t need to see it,” Johnny said firmly.

Val moved over to Johnny and Murdoch took a step back.

Scott slipped Johnny’s shirt off and tended the cuts on his chest and the front of his shoulders.  Murdoch, Cipriano, and the men from Lancer stood back and watched from a distance.  Large purple and black bruises covered Johnny’s chest and stomach.

Once finished with his front, Scott and Val helped Johnny to turn over and lay on his stomach.   He gently removed the old bandages as Johnny moaned, biting his lower lip.

“Johnny, let me know if I need to stop.”

Scott hated changing the bandages.  Each time he removed a piece of the blood-soaked cloth, layers of his brother’s skin came away with it.

When the last of the bandages were removed, Scott bent away to get antiseptic and the new bandages.  For the first time, Johnny’s entire back was visible to those standing around. 

Murdoch’s breath caught at the sight and Cipriano crossed himself.   A murmur ran through the Lancer men and the vaqueros standing near them.

Johnny’s eyes popped open, realizing his father was watching him.  “No,” he moaned, “Dios, no.” He buried his head in his arms.

Scott instantly knew what was happening and jumped to his feet.

“Sir, please.  You’re upsetting him.  Either move back or turn around.”

Murdoch nodded and turned away.  The sight of his son’s back had put him in turmoil.  When Joe told him told about the injuries, he thought he was prepared; he was wrong.

Scott knelt back down next to Johnny.  “It’s alright. No one is looking,” Scott reassured his brother and started cleaning the wounds.

As before, the entire procedure took close to an hour.  Johnny’s sharp moans tore through his father.  When Scott and Val were finished, Scott wiped beads of sweat from his brother’s forehead.

“Let’s get your shirt back on you.”

Scott reached for the shirt while Val sat Johnny up.  Together they got him back in his shirt.

“Better?” Scott asked, looking at his brother.

“Yeah.” Johnny took a deep breath.  “Scott…”

Scott hesitated.

“Thanks.”

Scott smiled. “You’re welcome.” 

“Can I sit up for a while?”

“I think that would be a good idea.  Do you want to move closer to the fire?”

“That sounds good.”  

Val and Scott helped Johnny to his feet and moved toward the fire.  Pedro spread a bedroll out, so Scott could sit Johnny down.  Val quickly moved in behind his friend.

“I’ll take him for a while.  You stretch your legs.”

Settling Johnny against Val’s chest, Scott turned to the fire and came back with a cup of broth.  Handing it to Val, Scott stretched his back. 

Murdoch moved closer to his youngest son and sat down.  He started to put his hand on Johnny’s leg and looked at him.

“Is it safe to touch you on your leg?”  Murdoch questioned.

Johnny smiled.  He pointed to a place at the top of his right thigh.  “That may be the only place on my whole body that doesn’t hurt.”  

Murdoch rested his hand on the spot Johnny indicated.  “I’m glad there’s at least one place I can touch you and not cause any more pain.”

Val held the cup in front of Johnny, who took it with shaky hands and started drinking.  After only a few sips, Johnny handed the cup to his father.  He lay his head back against Val’s chest and closed his eyes.  

“You gonna be sick, amigo?” Val asked, looking at Johnny’s face.  

“Dios Mio, I don’t want to be sick in front of all these men,” Johnny said, trying to hold the broth down.

“He tends to get sick after we change the bandages,” Val said softly to Murdoch.   “Why don’t you fellows go check on the horses for a little while,” Val shouted out. 

Murdoch stood up and indicated that the men should follow him.  Scott, seeing what was happening, moved over to Val and Johnny.

“You going to throw up the broth, little brother?” Scott asked quietly.  He held Johnny upright while Val moved out.  Together they helped him to a spot away from the camp where he could give back the broth he had just drank. 

“Need to lay down,” Johnny said as they helped him back to the campfire.  Scott moved Johnny’s bedroll and laid his brother down on his side and then placed a blanket over him.

Soon an extended camp had been established.  The Lancer men were resting.  Pedro told Murdoch that the vaqueros would stand guard while everyone else slept.

Scott moved to the fire and sat next to his father and Val.

Murdoch glanced back at Johnny. “Is it always like that?”

“Pretty much,” Scott answered wearily.  “I know better than to have given him the broth before changing his bandages.  He always throws up after we change them.”

“How was Nogales?” Val asked, poking the fire.

“Busy,” Murdoch answered, glancing again at Johnny.  “The place is full of Rurales and gunfighters.”

“Not sure what we’re gonna do,” Val sighed.  “We planned to stay here again tonight and move on in the morning, but now that we have help, I think we should stay here tomorrow night, too.  Tonight will be the first good night’s sleep me and Scott’s had since before the prison.”

“Joe told us about the prison,” Murdoch said. 

“Yeah, if that bastard Sanchez had waited just one more hour, we would have been out of there,” Val added, shaking his head.

“No, we wouldn’t have been,” Scott snapped.  “If we hadn’t been in the yard watching Sanchez whip him, Johnny would have been locked in a cell.  I realize now Johnny knew that.  He provoked Sanchez on purpose to get everyone into the open.”

Val thought on it for a few seconds.  “You’re right.  Johnny knew what time the break out was supposed to take place. I don’t think he realized how much damage Sanchez could do in that short of time.”

The three men sat quietly as the day wore on.   By early evening the voices of the other men slowly quieted as everyone crawled into their bedrolls.   A soft moan could be heard behind them. 

“He’s getting cold.” Scott stood looked at his father. “I’ve been sleeping close to him, keeping him warm.”

“I know.  Carlos told me.” Murdoch smiled.  “Go ahead.”

“Val’s been sleeping on his backside.  We sandwich him in.” 

“Why don’t your Pa take my place tonight?” Val suggested with a smile.  “Think it’s only right.  Don’t you?” 

Murdoch looked over at Val.  “Thank you.”

Val just nodded.

Scott took his place next to Johnny and pulled his brother to him.  Murdoch laid at his back and looked up at Val.

“What if I hurt him?” There was concern in Murdoch’s voice.

“Just let him move into you.  He’ll find a comfortable place,” Val replied.

With Murdoch at Johnny’s back and Scott at his front, Val covered them all.  He watched closely as Johnny moaned once and curled into Murdoch.   Murdoch smiled and then fell asleep, putting an arm across one son and touching the other.

---

Morning came none too soon for Murdoch’s back.  He slowly moved away from Johnny and watched as his youngest son shifted closer to Scott.   Standing and stretching, Murdoch looked around the camp.  He stood up and stretched.  Looking around, he saw Val near the fire and Cipriano talking to the Worthington vaqueros. 

Murdoch walked over to the fire.  Val poured a cup of coffee and handed it to the older man.

“Thank you.” Murdoch lowered his head, staring at the cup in his hand, then looking at Johnny’s best friend.  “Thank you also for giving up your place next to my son last night.  Except for that night in the church in Green River, the last time I slept that close to him, he was 17 months old.”

Murdoch closed his eyes and laughed.  Val somehow knew Murdoch remembered something about his son.

“Johnny started walking when he was ten months old and started running almost the next day. When he was little, he would come into our room at night, crawl into bed, and snuggle onto my chest.  We never could figure out how he managed to get out of his crib, but there he was almost every morning.  Val, you made an old man happy last night.”

Val didn’t say anything.  He didn’t tell Murdoch of his own memories of young Johnny. Memories of a five-year-old dark-haired, blue-eyed boy who stole his heart all those years ago. 

Val glanced over his shoulder.  Scott was moving away from Johnny. 

“Well, Scott’s up.  That means Johnny’s gonna be waking up in a little while.  I think we’ve got him spoiled.  He doesn’t sleep too well unless one of us is with him.”

Scott sat down.

“Well, what are we going to do?  Stay another night or go in?” Scott asked, looking over at Val.

“I say we stay another night.  We have food now and plenty of water.  The men are tired and need rest and Johnny could use another day out of the saddle.”

Val looked to Murdoch for agreement.

“Don’t look at me, Val,” Murdoch said. “You two seem to have this under control.  I’m just along for the ride.”

Val and Scott laughed.

Val stood up and called out, “Everyone, come on over here a minute.”

When everyone was gathered, Val continued.  “We’re gonna stay here another day to rest up before heading to Nogales.  If we leave in the morning, we’ll only have one more night out before hitting town.”  Val looked around.  “Now, don’t go looking at me that way.  You’ll see what I mean when we head out.  We haven’t exactly been breaking any speed records.”

“Boss, how’s Johnny doing?” Walt asked with concern in his voice.

Scott chose to answer, “He rested well last night. I think that it made a difference having medicine, rest, and something to eat.”

“Bueno,” Cipriano said smiling.

Murdoch stood up.  “Everyone, get some rest today.  Keep your eyes and ears open.  I’m surprised we haven’t run into any Rurales patrols.”

Johnny lay awake, listening to Val and Murdoch then closed his eyes for a second.  In the distance, he heard the sound of horses coming their way.

“Scott, Val, riders are coming in,” Johnny said as he pushed himself up.

Scott grabbed his rifle and Johnny’s gun.  He put the Colt in Johnny’s hand and took a knee in front of his brother.

Val looked around to see no one moving.  “You heard the man.  Riders are coming in.  Take cover.”

Men grabbed rifles and took positions around the camp. 

“Coming from the north,” Johnny said.  “Three riders.”  He listened again.  “Sounds like the same three as the other night.”

Three riders came into view.  They slowed their horses and raised their hands.  “Hello, the camp,” Jacobs called out. “We’ve come to help Madrid.  Hold your fire.”

“Come on in, slow,” Val called back, lowering his gun.  There were plenty of other guns pointed at the three men.   “What are you doing back here?”

“We’ve been in Nogales.  We saw these fellows riding out and figured they were coming to help you.  Thought we could help too if you let us.”

Johnny pushed himself up.  He got Scott’s attention and indicated he wanted to stand up.  At that moment, he didn’t look like much of anything, let alone a famous gunfighter, but he didn’t care.   He was tired of lying down and someone else doing the talking for him.

The three men moved closer.  “We know you’re expecting trouble,” Hammond stated, “but you’ll get none from us.  We just want to make sure Madrid gets back across the border.”

Johnny pulled himself as tall as he could without passing out.

“Why?” he said, his voice low and threatening, carried across the still air.  “Why do you want to help me?”

Those who had been standing in front of Johnny stepped aside, so the three men had a clear view.

“Just think you deserve a chance to get back to the American side of the border,” Jacobs answered.  “Like we said the other night, no one deserves to be caught by the Rurales.  Figure you’ve already been caught and escaped enough for one lifetime.  Hell, the way we hear it, you single-handedly wiped out an entire prison in Chihuahua.  A man like that deserves some help if you let us.”

Johnny lowered his gun and started laughing, then winced. “You say I wiped out the entire prison?  Damn, I’m good.”

Murdoch started laughing, as did Val.  “Come on in boys, and have a seat.  Cip, why don’t you look after these fellows.”

Scott sat his rifle down and grabbed Johnny as he started to crumple to the ground.

Scott sat Johnny down and propped him up on a saddle.  Beads of sweat had popped up on his forehead. 

“Damn, that hurt,” Johnny moaned as he tried to get past the pain.

“Do you want to lay back down?” Scott asked.

“No, just let me sit for a minute.  I need to do some thinking and can’t do it lying down.” Johnny wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.  “We need to talk to those three once they get settled in.”

Val walked over and knelt beside Johnny.  “You want me to bring those fellows over now, or do you want to rest awhile?”

“Talk now.  Rest later,” Johnny answered, taking a sharp breath.

Val stood up and walked over to the three strangers.

“Johnny wants to talk to you three.  You want to come on over?”

The three men stood up and walked over to where Johnny was sitting.  Val stood on one side of Johnny and Scott on the other.  Murdoch walked up behind the men.

“Have a seat, fellows.” Johnny could see the men were nervous.  “What’re your names?”

“I’m Clint Jacobs,” the leader spoke up.  He couldn’t believe he was talking to Johnny Madrid.  “This is Matt Hammond,” he pointed to the 2^nd man.  That’s Bill Jasper.”

“Where you fellows from?” Val asked as the three men sat down.

“Texas, just above Juarez,” Jacobs replied.  “We were in Juarez when you broke out of that prison.  It was like the whole border along the Rio Grande blew up when the prison did.  Rurales started pouring into the area.  We figured you heard about them being there.  Heard you’d switched to Nogales, so we started this way.”

“How did you find out about Nogales?” Johnny asked.  

“The telegraph operator in Juarez told everyone that Joe Worthington sent a message to Nogales.   Everyone in Juarez knew Worthington was in that prison.  He put two and two together and pretty soon, everyone knew that you were hurt and headed to Nogales.”

Johnny laid his head back against the rock with his eyes closed.  “You came from Nogales.  How many Rurales are we talking about?”

“Another company came in just before we left,” Jacobs answered. “Figure there are 100 there now.”

Johnny’s head popped up.  “Damn,” he said, looking off in the distance with a frown.  He didn’t like what he’d heard coming toward them.

“How many gunhawks?” Val asked.

“Figure there were 20 or 30 when we left,” Jacobs answered again.  “But it isn’t the gunhawks you have to worry about.”

“Why’s that?” Johnny looked back at them.

“The gunfighters are there to fight on your side Madrid,” Jacobs said.

“My side?” Johnny pushed himself up a little more.  “Why in God’s name would they want to fight on my side?”

“Well, it appears they want to keep you in it for themselves.  They figure the Rurales get you, then none of them would get your reputation later on,” Jenkins answered.

“That’s just great.  I get by the Rurales and right into a gunfight.”

Johnny wiped his face.  Closing his eyes, he took a breath.  “Val, more riders coming in.”

“This is getting busier than the damn saloon on Saturday night,” Val complained. “Riders coming in.  Take cover.”

Everyone was on their feet in an instant.

Johnny picked up his gun and laid it across his lap.  He looked at the three newcomers.

“You boys may want to go stand to the side.  Standing in front of me may not be the safest place around here.”

Jacobs, Hammond, and Jasper moved to the far side of the campfire with guns drawn.

“How many you figure, Johnny?” Val asked, looking down at his friend.

“Too many,” Johnny answered, shaking his head. “Too many.”

---

A cloud of dust announced the riders coming into view.  Val could see Johnny had been right.  There were too many of them to count from a distance.

“Hello, the camp,” a voice called out.  “We aren’t here for trouble.  Mind if we come in?”

“Just keep your hands where we can see them,” Val called back. 

Twelve riders slowly moved closer to the camp.  A dark-haired gunfighter dressed in black stepped down from his horse and walked forward. 

“Howdy, Madrid.  Crawford.”

Johnny stared at the man standing forty feet from him.  He hadn’t seen the man in a few years, but he hadn’t changed much.

“Slade, it’s been a long time,” Johnny tried to sit up straighter.  “Is that Curly with you and Red?  What are you doing out here?”

“Word’s out that you’re gonna dance with the Rurales.  Me and a few of your ‘friends’ thought we’d give you a hand.  We figured we’d come on out and join up with you here instead of waiting in town.” Slade looked closer at Johnny. “Madrid, anyone tell you, you look like hell?”

“I’ve been getting that a lot lately.” Johnny shifted and took a deep breath fighting not to show the pain on his face. “You know it makes me real nervous having so many of my ‘friends’ around right now,” Johnny said in a slow drawl.  “Kinda’ hard to watch my back if you know what I mean.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Slade answered.  “If anyone tried to take you down right now, their lives won’t be worth a plug nickel. We figure every gunhawk from here to Dodge is coming this way.  Every damn one of them to ‘watch your back.’  Don’t none of us want to see anything happen to you, Johnny-boy.”

“Why?”  Johnny asked hesitantly.

“We don’t want the Rurales to take you out of the game,” Slade drawled.  “There are those of us who want that honor ourselves sometime down the road.”

“Well, that makes me feel a lot better,” Johnny responded sarcastically and smiled weakly.  “Still don’t trust any of you, but right now, I’m willing to go on a little faith.  It’s been a hell of a week.”

“Yeah, we heard about that prison in Chihuahua,” Curly spoke up.  “Folks are saying you blew up the prison, rescued 200 prisoners, and killed 50 guards.  You do all that, Johnny?”

Johnny thought for a minute.  A smile crossed his face, “Yeah, Curly, but not by myself. I had a hell of a lot of help.”

“Well, you gonna let us join up, Madrid?” Slade grinned.

“Join up?” Johnny questioned, letting his head lean back.

“They’re calling it Madrid’s Army back in Nogales,” Slade replied.  “Never saw so many

gunhawks in one place and not one of them getting paid.”

“Madrid’s Army?” Val laughed.  “Well, hell, Johnny, you got yourself an army.”

“Well?” Slade asked again.

“Sure, Slade,” Johnny replied tiredly, “not gonna turn down help.”

“You’re calling the tune,” Slade started to turn away.

“Slade, I’m going to tell you the truth.  I don’t think I could even carry a tune right now, let along call it.  Val here is calling the tune for the time being.  Val, you remember Jack Slade?” Johnny said, taking a sharp breath.

“We heard you were hurt getting out of that prison.” Slade was eyeing Johnny.  “Some said that bastard Sanchez used his whip on you.  Gonna have to kill him one of these days.”

“Don’t have to worry about Sanchez,” Val snarled. “Johnny took care of him. He won’t be using that whip on anyone ever again.”

Slade nodded his understanding.

Murdoch was observing his son.  Seeing Johnny was weakening and wasn’t going to be able to sit up much longer, he moved forward.

“If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Slade, I think my Segundo, Cipriano can help you get settled.”   

Cipriano quickly moved forward.  “You may set up your camp anywhere, except in front of Juanito.”

Cipriano moved to Slade’s side.  

Slade looked around to see several men standing near Madrid, still holding rifles.

“Scott, help your brother.  He needs to lay down.” Murdoch turned away from Slade and moved to Johnny’s side.

‘Brother?’ Slade thought.  ‘Madrid has a brother?’

Scott sat his rifle down and helped Johnny to his feet.

“Slade, we’ll talk later,” Johnny said as Scott helped him up.  Murdoch stepped forward and took the other side, and together they moved Johnny back to his bedroll.

“Johnny, you want some laudanum?” Scott asked.

Johnny shook his head.

“Not yet. I have to keep a clear mind. Way too many gunhawks around here,” Johnny answered as he laid down on his side.

Johnny was taking slow deep breaths trying to control the pain shooting through his back.

After several minutes he wasn’t having any success.

Slade was watching Madrid closely.  He heard the exchange between Madrid and the blonde man.  Slade walked over to Johnny.  He noticed Johnny lay his hand on his Colt and Scott reach for his rifle.

“Madrid, I meant it when I said we’re here to watch your back.  It seems like you have a lot of men here now to do that.  You have my word that no one here is going to try to take you out.”

Slade’s voice raised so that everyone could hear him.

“Everyone, listen up.  Until he’s back on his feet, I’m making it my business to see that nothing happens to Madrid.”

Murdoch and Cipriano and the Lancer men walked over to stand near Johnny.

“Hell, Slade,” Curley Bill Brocius yelled back, “until he’s back on his feet, we’re all making it our business to see that nothing happens to Madrid.”

Slade turned back to look down at Johnny.  “You need that laudanum; you take it.  Don’t worry about us.”

Johnny looked into Slade’s brown eyes and believed what the man said.

“Alright,” he nodded.  “Scott, let me have some of that laudanum,” Johnny said, taking sharp breaths.

“Here.” Scott handed a cup of laudanum laced water to his brother. “Try to relax and get some sleep.”

Johnny nodded and closed his eyes. 

Slade turned and followed Cipriano.

“Is that really Madrid’s brother?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder as Scott knelt by the gunfighter.

“Si,” Cipriano answered, “that is Juanito’s hermano and papa.  Juanito is in good hands.  Over there is a good place for your camp.  We are staying tonight and will leave tomorrow for Nogales.  We will be there in two days.”

---

The camp was full of activity.  The gunfighters joked around and practiced their draws.

Jacobs, Hammond, and Jasper stayed close to the Lancer men and the vaqueros but kept a keen eye on the gunfighters as they practiced.   Murdoch, Scott, and Val hovered near Johnny.

The day wore on, and Johnny slept.  Scott woke him in the early afternoon to give him broth and some bread.  To the amazement of everyone, the boy kept it down.

Johnny said he wanted to try walking.  Val and Scott got him to his feet, but after several steps decided that it wasn’t a good idea and returned him to a sitting position in front of the fire.

Johnny kept his gun either in his hand or his waistband.  He couldn’t remember when he’d been more nervous.   Twelve professional grade gunfighters were enough to make anyone nervous.

“Val, can you ask Slade to come over when he has a chance?” Johnny asked as Val handed him a cup of coffee.

“Sure,” Val stood up and walked toward Slade.

Val noted earlier in the day the gunfighters had bedded down separate from the main camp and now had three campfires going.  He looked at the faces of the men who’d ridden in with Slade.  Recognizing many of them, he greeted them by name.

Finding the man he was looking for, Val strode to the center of the camp.    

“Slade, Johnny wants to talk to you when you have time,” Val said as he stepped up to the man.  He knew better than to tell Slade anything.  Asking him to see Johnny when he had time was the only way to talk to a man like Jack Slade.

Without a word, Slade followed Val back to the main camp.

Sitting down across from Madrid, Slade watched Scott hand a cup of willow bark tea to his brother.

Johnny looked at it and frowned.

Seeing the expression on his brother’s face, Scott said, “Drink it.  All of it.”

Val took his place to Johnny’s right and looked at the cup he was holding.  “Like he said, drink it.”

Johnny took a sip of the bitter drink and screwed up his face.  “Dios, I hate this stuff.”

Val smiled.  “It’s good for you.  It’ll help with the fever.”

Scott looked at Slade. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. Slade?”

“Thanks.” Slade accepted the offered cut.  He couldn’t take his eyes off the blonde, still not believing he was Madrid’s brother. 

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Scott said as he took his seat. “I’m Scott…”

Johnny held up a hand to stop Scott from telling Slade his last name.

Val looked at Johnny. “Slade already knows he’s your brother.  No need to keep it a secret anymore, especially with your Pa here, too.”

Johnny nodded.

“You really Madrid’s brother?” Slade questioned as he sipped his coffee.

“I am.  My name’s Scott Lancer.”

“You and Crawford were in that prison, too.” Slade glanced at the two men.

“We were.  However, we aren’t here to talk about the prison. I believe my brother wanted to talk to you about Nogales.”

Slade didn’t miss the protective positions Val and Scott took on either side of Madrid.

“Slade, how do you see this playing out in Nogales?” Johnny asked, sipping the hot tea and then frowned.

Slade pushed his hat back on his head.  “I’m not sure where the Rurales are going to make their stand.  Getting you across the border is the whole point.  If they make a stand on this side of Nogales, we will have to fight all the way through the damn town to get to the border.  If we’re lucky and they make it between the town and the border, we’ll at least have a shorter distance to get you there.”

“How many gunhawks you think we’ll have in town to help?” Val asked.

Slade thought for a moment.  “Not sure how many are there now.  I think we need some on the American side to cover our backs once we’ve crossed the border.  We need someone in town to get everyone organized.  We need someone like you, Madrid.”

Johnny let a small smile show.

“That Segundo said it was going to take us two days to get to Nogales.  I take it you’re moving slow?”

“Yeah, real slow,” Johnny answered, looking down at the cup in his hand.

Scott reached over and lifted the cup toward Johnny’s mouth.  “Drink.”

Slade grinned at the look Madrid gave his brother.    

“I think it best I go into town tomorrow night and see what I can do about getting things organized?”

Murdoch moved to stand behind Johnny. 

“I’m Murdoch Lancer, Mr. Slade.  If you go across the border, there’s a camp set up by a rancher by the name of Joe Worthington.  Joe will be able to help on the American side.”

“Joe alright?” Johnny asked, looking up at his father.  “Don’t remember even asking about him after you got here yesterday.”

“Joe’s fine and very grateful to be home.  He’s anxious to thank you himself,” Murdoch smiled.

“Is Worthington the one you went to Chihuahua to get out of prison?” Slade asked.

Johnny just nodded.  He didn’t want to talk about the prison, especially to Slade.

“So, once we get started in the morning, you can head back into town if you want,” Val said.  “Someone needs to let us know what’s happening before we get there.  I’m expecting to meet up with Rurales before we get to town.  Kinda’ glad for the extra guns.”

The sun was slowly sinking, and a chill filled the air.  Johnny felt like he was freezing but refused to show it in front of Slade.  

“Sounds good,” Johnny said, turning to Scott, handing him his cup.  “I have some others to talk to before it gets too late.  See you in the morning, Slade.”

Slade stood and walked away.   He glanced back to see Scott putting a blanket around Madrid’s shoulders.

Johnny sat for a long time, staring into the fire.  He was tired.  All he wanted was to be home at Lancer in his bed with Teresa fussing over him.  Only two more days before all hell was going to break loose. 

“Come on, Johnny,” Scott was next to him, helping him to his feet, “time for bed.”

“Did I eat?” Johnny asked as Scott guided him to his bedroll.

“A little,” Scott answered, looking worriedly at his brother, “don’t you remember?”

Johnny shook his head.

“Don’t remember.  Must be really tired,” Johnny answered as Scott lowered him onto the bedroll.

“Where’s Murdoch?” Johnny tried to sit up.

“Talking to Cipriano.  Johnny, are you alright?”  Scott asked, placing a hand on his brother’s forehead.  “Damn.  Johnny, don’t move.  Stay right there.  I’m getting Murdoch and Val.”

Scott saw his father at the other end of the camp and Val near the horses.  He walked over to Murdoch.

“Sir, I think Johnny needs to see you,” he said, not wanting to raise any alarms with this many strangers around. 

Murdoch looked at his son and nodded. “Cip, why don’t you come with me.”

Scott walked up to Val.

“Val, Johnny needs to see you,” he said as calmly as he could.  Val knew something was wrong.  He’d been around Scott long enough now to know that look.

Scott got back to Johnny with Val in tow.  Murdoch was sitting next to his son.

“He has a fever,” Scott announced, putting a wet cloth on Johnny’s head. 

“Too damn many people around here for my liking. They got the boy all upset,” Val grumbled.  “He did too much today.”

“Let’s cool him down and get him to sleep,” Murdoch said. “Cipriano have the Lancer men and the vaqueros move their bedrolls closer to Johnny.  I don’t want them so spread out.”

The gunhawks watched as men started repositioning their bedrolls.  Slade didn’t say anything, he just observed.  It didn’t take him long to realize the cowhands and the vaqueros were moving to protect Madrid.  He decided he’d do the same thing. 

Slade got the gunhawks together.

“We all know why we’re here.  We agreed to get Madrid across the border alive, and that’s what I plan on doing.  You see those cowhands and vaqueros?  They just moved the entire camp to protect Madrid.  We’re going to protect them. So, spread out around the camp.  No one gets to Madrid.  Any questions?”

Val watched as the meeting with the gunhawks broke up.  He arched an eyebrow when the same men started moving their gear to encircle the rest of them.

‘I’ll be damned,’ he thought.

---

By morning Johnny’s fever was down, and they made ready to move on.

Val sent Carlos and Pedro to scout ahead and find a place for their camp that night.   The gunhawks rode flank and drag around everyone else with Val, Murdoch, and Scott with Johnny in the middle. 

They took it easy, as they had in previous days.  Johnny found he was having a hard time getting comfortable.  Scott kept trying to pull him back to his chest, and he kept slumping forward.

“Johnny, if you don’t lean back, I’m not going to be able to hold you,” Scott finally said, as he lost his grip on his brother for the third time that morning.

“It’s hurting too bad to lean back against you,” Johnny groaned.  “It feels like every nerve in my back is alive.”

“Johnny, I don’t want to give you laudanum while we’re moving, but I will if I have to.  You have got to lean back.”   Scott lost his grip again.  “We need to stop and let me put some salve on your back.  It may help.”

Johnny nodded.  At this point, he’d try anything.

“Val, we need to stop,” Scott called out, pulling up.

“What’s wrong?” Val asked as he moved up next to Scott and Johnny.

“He’s hurting too bad to lean back against me.  I can’t hold him.  I’m going to try to put some salve on his back to see if it will help with the pain.”

Scott stepped down from the horse.

“We’re stopping for an hour,” Val called out to the gunhawks.  They waved back, acknowledging they understood and moved in closer.

Slade dismounted, scanning the group of men gathering around him.

“Crawford says we’re resting for an hour.  Loosen your cinches and give the horses some water,” Slade said as he moved to stand near Murdoch. 

Scott sat Johnny on the ground, legs sprawled out in front of him, with Val sitting down to face him.  Scott shook his head as he looked at the back of Johnny’s shirt saturated with blood and sweat.   Slowly, he removed the shirt and leaned his brother forward into Val.

Val saw the expression on Scott’s face.

“What wrong?”

“He needs another shirt.”  Scott looked around.  “Has anyone got an extra shirt Johnny can have?”

Hammond called back, “I have one that would fit him.  It may be a little loose on him.”

“Loose is good right now.”

Scott took the salve and started working it onto the raw skin that was visible.  Not wanting to take the bandages off, he tried to put the ointment under the edges of the bandages.

Johnny leaned forward, pushing his head into Val’s chest.

Johnny took a deep breath, and his head jerked up.

“God, Val, you need a bath,” Johnny hissed as Scott applied the salve.  The smell of sweat and body odor from his friend overwhelming his stomach.

“You don’t smell none too good either, amigo,” Val answered, looking down at the back of Johnny’s head.  He could feel Johnny pressing harder into his chest.

“Hold on, amigo.  He’s almost done,” Val said as he held Johnny’s shoulders.

Johnny winced again. “Scott, take it easy back there.” Johnny bit down on his lower lip.

“I’m trying.  If you would just sit still,” Scott replied, trying to apply the salve to the delicate skin.  “Val hold him still.”

“Me, hold him still?  I’m trying to hold him still,” Val growled. “Why don’t we switch places?”

“Murdoch,” Scott called to his father, “can you give Val a hand?”

Murdoch moved next to Val.  “What can I do?” Murdoch asked as he placed a hand on the back of his youngest son’s neck.

“I just need some help keeping him still,” Val said, trying to readjust Johnny on his chest.

“Can’t sit still with Scott poking me like that,” Johnny moaned.  “Just get it done.” 

Johnny looked up at Val and closed his eyes. 

Murdoch was listening to the banter and smiled, thinking about the friendship that had formed between these three men.  A bond for which he was very thankful.  Turning, he found Slade standing beside him. 

“Scott, you need to get this done now,” Johnny moaned.   He felt Scott’s hand slip onto the rawest part of his back.  Before he could control it, a scream tore from his throat. 

Gunfighters drew their guns on reflex and pointed them toward Scott, before realizing what had happened.  Scott’s looked around and swallowed hard.  “Sorry,” he said as his mouth went dry.

Johnny took hold of Val’s shirt and held it so tight that his knuckles had turned white.  He was trying to control his breathing as he buried his head even deeper into Val’s chest. 

Murdoch tightened his grip on the back of Johnny’s neck.   

Slade spoke up, staring at Scott, “It’s alright, boys.  I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

Everyone re-holstered their guns; their eyes moved from Scott to Madrid’s back. 

The sight sent a chill through Slade.  He’d heard about Sanchez and his whip.  Seeing what Sanchez was capable of made him real glad the man was dead.

Johnny raised his head, taking deep breaths. “Scott, please.”

“Almost done,” he answered, trying to avoid another slip of his hand.

Val looked at Johnny’s face, recognizing the expression he was seeing.  “Johnny, you can pass out, but don’t you even think about puking on me.”

“Lo Siento, Val.  I’m about to do both,” Johnny groaned, trying to control his breathing as a tear slipped down his cheek. 

“You puke on me, boy, and I’ll shoot you myself,” Val groused. 

“Right now, I’d pay someone to shoot me.” 

Scott looked around, “Johnny, that isn’t funny.  One of these men might take you up on it.”

“What makes you think I’m joking?” Johnny hissed.

“Yeah, Slade ain’t smiling,” Val said, looking toward the gunfighter.

“Hell, Slade never smiles,” Johnny said, pressing again into Val’s chest.

“Done,” Scott sounded relieved, as he leaned back.  “Val lean him back into me and get some water.”

Val leaned a pale Johnny back and gave him a canteen.

“Just rest a few minutes, brother.” Scott wrapped his arm around his brother’s chest.  He could feel his heart pounding and his chest rising and falling.

Murdoch knelt next to his sons.  Today was the first day he’d ridden with Scott and Johnny.  He now realized how hard the journey from Chihuahua had been on both of his boys. 

“He’ll be ready to move on in a few minutes.” Scott glanced at Murdoch.  “He just needs to rest.”

When Johnny’s chest heaved, Scott looked at his brother’s profile.

“Are you going to be sick?”  It had been an unnerving pattern that every time any of them treated Johnny’s back, he threw up afterward.  Today was not going to be any different.

Scott didn’t wait for an answer.  “Val,” Scott called out.  “Murdoch, you may want to move.”

Murdoch stood up and stepped aside just as Johnny started throwing up.  Val handed Scott a wet bandana to wipe his brother’s face.

“You okay?” Val knelt next to his friend.

Johnny nodded.  He looked up at Slade.  “Seems I’m having a hard time looking like a tough gunfighter right now, Slade,” Johnny said, trying to catch his breath. 

“Looks can be deceiving, Madrid,” Slade replied with a smile.  He turned and mounted his horse.

‘Guess he can smile,’ Johnny thought.

Johnny pushed off Scott.  “Val, let’s get moving.”

---

The rest of the day went smoothly.  Slade left early in the afternoon for Nogales.  He said he’d send word back as to what the plan would be for the next day.

As the sun moved toward the western horizon, the vaqueros set up the next camp.   By the time Scott arrived with Johnny, the sun was setting, and the fires were blazing. 

After he saw that Johnny was being taken care of, Val walked over to the gunhawk camp.

“Boys, I know you had one hell of a boring day, but I want to thank you for watching our backs.  Never thought I’d say it, but it’s nice having you fellows around.”

“You’re right about it being boring,” Curley laughed. “You been moving this slow the whole way?”

“Actually, today was kinda’ moving fast compared to what we’ve been doing the past nine days,” Val said.   “Johnny was feeling pretty poorly those first few days.”

“He feeling any better after we stopped this morning?” Curley asked. “Sanchez sure tore him up bad.  Had a friend Sanchez whipped to death.  Wasn’t nothing left of his back by the time Sanchez got done.”

“Johnny just needed some salve on his back,” Val said.  “That bastard did a number on him.  It would have been worse if the prison hadn’t blown up when it did.” 

“He really did blow the place up, didn’t he?” one of the other gunhawks spoke up.

“Yeah, I expect he did,” Val laughed.  “Well, I need to get back.  We have a lot going on tomorrow.  I just wanted to thank you.”

---

As they settled down to their last night in Mexico, everyone was alert.

Murdoch watched Scott sit Johnny down and start to move in behind him to hold him up.

“Let me,” Murdoch said, moving over to take Scott’s place.

“You sure?” Johnny questioned.  “What about your back?”

“I think my back can hold up,” Murdoch laughed as he sat down behind his youngest son.  Scott leaned Johnny back into the broad chest and Murdoch put an arm around his son.

Johnny closed his eyes and sighed.  The physical contact with his father felt good.

“I’ve been thinking,” Murdoch smiled as he watched the expression on his son’s face. 

“What have you been thinking?” Johnny asked, not opening his eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about the holidays.”

“Holidays?” Johnny opened his eyes and tried to look up at his father. 

“Thanksgiving and Christmas,” Murdoch readjusted his arm around Johnny’s chest.  “I’m wondering if we’ll be home by Thanksgiving.  I’ve waited a lot of years to have my family together under one roof for the holidays.”

Johnny rolled his head to the side and looked away.  “Never celebrated Thanksgiving in Mexico.  Tell me about it.  What do you do?”

Scott was sitting nearby and listening.  “You’ll like Thanksgiving, little brother.  There is lots of food.  In Boston, we always had turkey and all the fixings.”

“I like the sound of lots of food,” Johnny laughed.  He thought for a second, “Sorry about messing up your plans, Murdoch.”

“We still have time.  We’ll get across the border tomorrow and then head home.  We can still make it home by Thanksgiving.”  Murdoch took his other hand and gently pulled his son’s head back to rest on his chest.

“Maybe,” Johnny whispered and sighed again.  He felt his father’s hand on his head.  The gentle stroking of his head was lulling him to sleep. “Feels good,” he mumbled as he dropped off. 

“I think he’s asleep,” Scott said, watching the younger man’s face relax.  “Let’s put him down here.”

Scott lifted his brother from their father’s chest and lowered him onto his bedroll before moving to lie next to him.  As he had on all the previous nights, he held Johnny as he fought against the cold.  Truth be known, he was going to miss this.

Murdoch settled on the backside of Johnny, and soon they were all asleep.

---

The next morning found everyone restless.  

Johnny sipped the hot coffee Val handed him as he watched Scott clean up around the camp.   He ran his hand through his hair.  It was dirty and still too long.  Then running his hand over his face, he felt the stubble of the beard that was again threatening to take over.

Johnny knew this wasn’t how he wanted to look, especially since it was most probably the last day of his life.  He’d already made up his mind that the Rurales were not going to take him alive.  Either he crossed the border, or he’d be buried by the time the sun set today.

“Scott, can you get me my shaving gear?” Johnny asked.  “I want to clean up a bit.”

Scott reached for Johnny’s saddlebags.  Opening one side, he found the shaving kit. 

“Want some help?” Scott asked as he opened the box and took out a razor and some soap. 

“Thanks, I’d like that.”

It had only taken a few minutes to shave his brother.

“Much better, little brother,” Scott smiled.

Johnny looked down at his clothes. The shirt he was wearing, even though just put on the day before, was now dirty and bloodstained. 

Murdoch was watching his son and smiled. 

“I have something for you.”

Murdoch walked over to his saddlebags and knelt. Standing, he turned and handed a shirt to his son.

The sight of his red shirt put a smile on Johnny’s face.

“You have any pants in there?”

“It just so happens I do,” Murdoch answered, pulling Johnny’s calzoneras out.

Handing the pants to Johnny, Murdoch smiled.  Johnny’s looked at the clothes and then up at his father.

“Thanks.”

“Need some help getting those on?” Murdoch asked.

Johnny nodded. 

Scott and Murdoch helped Johnny dress.  Murdoch tightened his son’s belt until it was on the last hole.  The two men gave each other a knowing look.  Johnny had lost so much weight his clothes were too big on him now.

Val watched Johnny dressing and had an idea.  He made his way to the gunhawk camp.  Stopping, he looked around before speaking.  “Anyone got an extra rig Johnny can borrow?  Needs to be for a smaller waist.” 

Soon three rigs were in front of him.  Val took the one with the smallest belt.

He walked back in time to see Murdoch pulling out Johnny’s silver concho belt. 

“You sure do clean up good,” Val said with a grin. “One of the gunhawks had an extra rig you can borrow.  He held the gun belt out to Johnny. “Figured your rig would be too big on you.”

Scott held his brother up as Johnny put on the concho belt and then the gun belt.  Johnny slid his Colt into the holster.

Johnny’s eyes met his father’s. “Well, how do I look, old man?”.

“You look like you’re ready to go, son,” Murdoch answered with a smile that quickly disappeared.  Reaching out, he squeezed his youngest son’s shoulder.  “John, you don’t have to do this.  We’ll find another way.”

“There ain’t no other way.”

Murdoch dropped his arm and nodded. No, there wasn’t another way, not for Madrid and that’s who his son was.

When Scott helped Johnny to the horse, Johnny stopped before being helped into the saddle. 

“When we get ready to go into town, I’m riding by myself.  Have Val have one of the other horses ready.”

Scott started to protest but knew there was no arguing with his brother.

Johnny stood next to the horse and looked around.  Everyone knew Johnny was now calling the tune.  Scott mounted, while Murdoch helped Johnny up.

The final leg of their journey had begun.

---

As they had done the day before, the gunhawks moved into flanking and rear positions around the group.  Murdoch rode on one side of Scott and Johnny, while Val took the other.  The vaqueros and Lancer men fell in behind them. 

Off in the distance, riders could be seen moving toward Nogales.  One of the gunfighters rode in to say it was a Rurales patrol.  The patrol didn’t even try to approach them.

The closer they got to Nogales, the more nervous the gunhawks got.  They soon reined their horses closer to Scott and Johnny.

“Rider coming,” Walt yelled out. 

Val moved out in front and stopped.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was Slade.

Slade rode in and stopped beside Scott.

“Glad to see you back,” Johnny straightened up and smiled at the gunfighter.

“What’s going on in town?” Val asked as he waved the other men closer, wanting everyone to hear this.

“Rurales are making their stand at the border.  They got men in town on the roofs, but from what I heard, they have orders not to fire on you.” Slade was watching Johnny’s face. “Their orders are to take Madrid alive.”

Johnny closed his eyes, then opened them. “Well, that sure as hell ain’t happening.”  The words were said aloud before he knew he’d spoken them.

He could feel Scott tense behind him.  Murdoch reached a hand over to squeeze Johnny’s arm.

“I mean it,” Johnny said in a slow drawl.  “I either get across the border or die trying. No one’s taking me back into Mexico.”

Slade nodded his understanding.

“You sure they won’t just let me cross the border without any problems?” Johnny asked, looking past Slade, toward Nogales.

“Nope, doesn’t look like it.” Slade shook his head. “You’ve really pissed some people off down here.  They aren’t gonna just let you walk away.”

“Figures,” Johnny blew out a breath.  Johnny looked at Slade and knew there was something he wasn’t saying.   “What?”

“It’s just that there are a lot of people in town.  It looks like everyone within at least a hundred miles has come to see what’s gonna happen.”

“This is gonna turn into a damn circus,” Val spoke up.  “What are they expecting to see?”

“Me,” Johnny stared straight ahead. “They’re here to see me get myself killed or captured.  I don’t expect one of them has sense enough to know how to duck when the shooting starts.”

“John, you can’t be worrying about them,” Murdoch spoke up. 

“It’s your play, Johnny,” Slade said.  “What do you want to do?”  

Johnny took a deep breath and looked around.  He was suddenly tired, so tired, he could hardly hold his head up.  “Anyone got any objections to resting here for a while before going in?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Slade agreed, seeing that Madrid needed rest.  “I could stand to take a siesta.  Besides, I wouldn’t mind getting into town later in the afternoon anyway.”

Johnny nodded his thanks.

“We’re going to rest here for a couple of hours,” Slade yelled out as he dismounted.

Val threw down his bedroll for Johnny to lay on while Cipriano used a blanket to create shade in the mid-day sun. Scott took his saddle and tossed it on the bedroll for Johnny to lean on.

“Val, I need to talk to Slade and Curly,” Johnny said as he laid back.

Val gave Johnny a curious look before turning and relaying the message to the two gunfighters.

It wasn’t long before the two men followed Val back.

“You wanted to see us?” Slade asked as he and Curly walked up, followed by Scott and Val.

“Scott, Val,” I need to talk to them alone. Can you give us a few minutes?”   

The two men gave Johnny a weary look before reluctantly moving away.

“What you have got on your mind, Johnny?”  Curly asked as he and Slade knelt beside the young gunfighter.

“You heard what I said about not being taken alive by the Rurales?” Johnny looked into Slade’s eyes.

“We heard,” Slade answered.   He waited a few moments before adding, “You want us to make sure of that?” 

“Yeah,” Johnny nodded. 

“Why us?  Why not Crawford, or one of the others?” Curly turned to look at Val, who was watching them.

“I can’t do that to them,” Johnny answered.  “It’s gonna be bad enough watching….,” he took a deep breath.  “I can’t ask them to do that.”

Slade understood.  Madrid didn’t want his friend or family to bear the responsibility of taking his life if he were to be captured alive.  Neither, Slade nor Curly would hesitate to grant Madrid’s wish, if the need arose.

“Don’t worry, Madrid.  We’ll take care of it,” Slade said.  “If it looks like there’s no other choice, we’ll take care of it.  They won’t be taking you alive.”  

“Gracias,” Johnny thanked the two gunfighters who stood up and walked away.

Scott and Val came back to kneel by Johnny. 

“What was that all about?” Val asked.

“Nothing, Val,” Johnny said as he laid down and closed his eyes. “Just needed to talk to them about something.  Think I’ll get that siesta now.”

Val looked at Johnny as he closed his eyes.  He wasn’t buying that ‘nothing’ crap.  He knew Johnny had a reason for everything he did.

---

Two hours passed before everyone started stirring.

Slade had sat in the shade of his horse for the last two hours and, like everyone else, watched Madrid sleep.  He also spent the time going over the plans for the day in his mind.  It wasn’t going to be easy getting Madrid across the border.  From the information he’d acquired in town the day before, he knew the Rurales weren’t going to give up easily.

Slade wondered why he was doing this, why any of them were doing it?  Madrid was just another gunhawk.  Still, there was something different about him.  Something that made you either like him instantly or dislike him equally as fast.  He’d worked both with Madrid and against him over the years.  He knew Madrid had his own code of morality and he liked that.

The thing was; Slade had always respected the man.  Slade thought for a second and shook his head.  When you first looked at Madrid, you saw a boy, not a man.  It was when Madrid used his gun; you knew there was no doubt which he was.  

He looked so young as he lay there sleeping.  Slade wondered how old the kid was. 

Slade glanced at Madrid’s brother and father and wondered how they were going to take it if he had to fulfill his promise.  He’d made the promise one gunhawk to another and had every intention of keeping that promise.  He would make sure Madrid wasn’t taken alive.

His eyes fell on Madrid’s brother and realized Scott was watching him.   Slade nodded; it was time to go. 

Scott moved to his brother’s side and gently shook his shoulder.  Madrid opened his eyes.  Those blue eyes.  Slade smiled, thinking he was glad he’d never had to face those eyes in a gunfight.

“What are you smiling about?” Scott asked, looking down at his brother, who was smiling up at him.

“Just having a good dream,” Johnny answered with a sigh.  Scott helped him to sit up with a grunt.

“What about?” Scott sat back on his heels.

“Fishing.  I was dreaming about us going fishing when we get home,” Johnny grinned.

“You want to go fishing?  I don’t know, little brother, fishing with you can be dangerous,” Scott laughed.

Murdoch and Val walked over to see why Scott was laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Val asked.

“My little brother wants to go fishing when we get home.  You want to go with us, Val?” Scott said.

“Nooo, thanks,” Val answered with a snort.  “I’ve been fishing with the boy.  I like my fish lead free.”

Murdoch and Scott laughed out loud while Johnny grinned at them.

“I told him that fishing with him was dangerous,” Scott laughed.

“What’s life without a little danger, Boston?” Johnny chuckled.  Johnny looked around, “Tio, you and the men will go fishing with me when we get home, won’t you?”

Cipriano laughed, “Si, Sobrino, we will go with you only if you leave your gun at home.”

The men from Lancer started laughing.

Slade was watching and listening to Madrid.  He didn’t know what was so funny about fishing or what was dangerous about it.  He watched as once again the man he considered dangerous had turned into a laughing teenager.

“What’s so funny?” Curley asked Walt.

“Johnny isn’t a patient man when he’s fishing.  Doesn’t like to use a pole.  He uses his gun instead,” Walt laughed.

“Si,” Cipriano added, “only he does not stop at one shot in each fish.  Ay, by the time Juanito has finished, there is nothing left of the fish.”

Johnny shook his head. “It ain’t that bad, and I only did it once.  No one will let me live it down.  Besides, that fish only had two bullets in it.”

“Try four bullets,” Scott snorted.

Everyone was laughing now.

Johnny shifted and, with his brother’s help, stood up.

Scott looked at his little brother and ruffled his hair.  “You need a haircut.”

“I’ll get one tomorrow,” Johnny answered as their eyes met. Both were hoping there would be a tomorrow.  

Scott nodded.

“I’ll make sure you get one.” Murdoch stepped forward, putting his hand on his youngest son’s arm.  He moved closer to Johnny.  His voice was so low that only Johnny and Scott could hear him. “John, please be careful today.  I don’t want to lose you.”

Johnny and Scott both took a step toward their father.  Murdoch had a hand on each of their shoulders.

“I’ll do my best, old man.” Johnny took a deep breath and let it out.   “Murdoch, thank you.”

“For what, son?” Murdoch asked.

“For everything.  For never giving up on me.  For sending the Pinkertons after me.  For saving me from the firing squad.  For bringing me home,” Johnny raised his head, and his eyes met his father’s.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.  John, I love you.  I love you and your brother with all my heart.  I’m so very proud of both of you,” the tears welled up in a father’s eyes as he looked at the faces of his sons. “I want nothing more than to hold both of you in my arms right now.”   

Johnny smiled and turned to look at his brother.  “Scott, I don’t know about you, but I could stand a hug about now.”  He looked around.  “On second thought, maybe not right now.  We’ll remind you tonight when this is all over.”

Murdoch smiled.  He looked at Scott, who was nodding his agreement.  “Alright then, tonight.”

Murdoch reluctantly took his hand from his son’s shoulders.  Letting them go was hard.

“Val, you have a horse saddled for me?”  Johnny turned around to look at his friend. 

“You think you can sit a horse without falling off,” Val asked seriously. 

“I can sit him,” Johnny answered.  “I’m not riding double into Nogales.”  He had slept well and felt like he could actually sit a horse and not fall on his face.

“Slade, how far have we got to go?” Val yelled.

Slade looked toward Nogales and back to Val.  “The way you’re traveling, less than an hour.”

“Johnny, we need to wait until we’re closer before you go solo,” Scott said. 

Johnny nodded agreement.  

Once they were mounted, Johnny motioned Carlos to move closer to him.

“Carlos, I want you to take my father across the border to Joe Worthington.  Cipriano, you and the men from Lancer, are going with him.”

“Senor Madrid, I ride with you,” Carlos stated.

“No, Juanito, …,” Cipriano stepped forward, protesting.

“No, Tio, you belong with your Patron,” Johnny answered firmly.  “You and the men need to make sure Murdoch gets back to Lancer when this is over.”

“John, I’m staying with you.” Murdoch moved his horse closer to his sons.

“Now listen, all of you,” Johnny’s voice had turned pure Madrid.  “I don’t want to be worrying about you when we get to Nogales.  You’re going, and that is not negotiable.”

Johnny leaned forward, “Scott…” Johnny started to say.

“No way, little brother.  Where you go, I go.  I’ve come this far with you; I’m going all the way.  I agree we get Murdoch across the border, but I’m staying by your side.”

“Val?” Johnny looked at his friend.

“You know better than to ask,” Val said straightening in the saddle.

“Anyone here who wants to ride away now’s the time,” Johnny said, looking around him.  He cleared his throat, “Just in case I don’t get another chance … well, I want to thank all of you for helping me.”     

No one moved or said anything.

“Slade, will they have any trouble getting across the border?” Johnny nodded toward his father and men with him.

“Shouldn’t. No one there knows who he is.  He should be able to get through without any trouble.”

“Carlos, move out,” Johnny ordered.  “Oh, and take those extra horses with you. I think Val’s gotten kinda’ tired of taking care of them.”

Johnny waited until the extra horses were handed over to the men from Lancer before turning back to his father, “Mur…Pa, Scott and I’ll see you soon.”

Murdoch smiled and nodded.  

Johnny and Scott watched as their father, reluctantly rode away. 

Murdoch hadn’t gotten far before he turned in the saddle and looked back at his sons.  He wondered if it would be the last time he would ever see them.

Johnny sighed deeply and pulled his hat down over his eyes, trying to hide his feelings.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked, looking over his brother’s shoulder, trying to see his face.

“You know that’s the first time the old man has ever even acted like that…. like he wanted to hug us, or at least me,” Johnny answered.

“I know,” Scott sighed.

“Kinda’ wish I’d taken him up on that hug now,” Johnny glanced over his shoulder at his brother.

“Me, too,” Scott answered and put an arm around his brother’s upper chest.

Johnny could feel Scott’s arm tighten around him.  He reached up and put his hand on his brother’s arm, pushing it tighter to him.

“Gracias, hermano,” he said almost in a whisper, while at the same time dipping his head.

“Any time, little brother,” Scott whispered back. 

“Let’s move out.”

They rode until they could see the outskirts of the town.  Finally, Johnny indicated it was time for Scott to stop.

“You stay on this horse Johnny,” Scott said, “I’ll take the other one.”

“Scott, let me have some of the laudanum,” Johnny whispered before Scott dismounted.

Scott nodded and handed the small brown bottle to his brother.  He watched as Johnny took a sip of the laudanum and then gave the bottle back.  Stifling a cough, Johnny reached for his canteen.  He took a sip of the warm water and tried not to cough again. 

Before Scott slid off the horse, Johnny grasped his brother’s hand and squeezed it.  “Thank you for everything, Brother.”

Scott whispered in his brother’s ear, “I love you, little brother.”

Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, “I love you too, Scott.  Finding you…having you in my life has been the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I feel the same way, John,” Scott said as he pulled his brother one more time close to his chest. “Let’s go home.”

Johnny nodded.

Scott slid off while keeping a hand on Johnny until he was sure he was going to stay on the horse.

Johnny shifted in the saddle, and a wave of pain shot through him.  He took a deep breath and straightened.  Hoping the laudanum would take effect quickly.  Looking around, he saw Val moving toward him.

Johnny smiled at Val.  “Papi.”

“Hijo,” Val smiled back.

Johnny sighed.  “Val, anything goes wrong today I want you to make sure Scott gets across the border.  I’m counting on you.  Just make sure he and Murdoch make it home.”

“Ain’t nothing gonna go wrong today, boy.”

Johnny tried to give Val one of his best Madrid stares.

“You know I’ll take care of them, hijo,” Val finally said.  

Johnny nodded.  “I’d shake your hand if I didn’t think I’d fall out of the saddle reaching across to you.”

Val took a deep breath and reached across to bridge the gap between them.  He put his hand on Johnny’s arm and squeezed it.  It was as close to hugging the boy as he was going to get.

Johnny nodded, dipping his head. 

Val knew what Johnny wanted to say, and he also knew it didn’t need to be said aloud.  Val had to swallow hard before he was able to speak.

“Come on, amigo, let’s get this over with.”

Johnny closed his eyes and dug deep inside himself.  He found his old friend Madrid and let him take over.

Johnny raised his head and looked around before pulling his hat over his eyes.  He didn’t say anything; he just kicked the horse forward.

Scott moved to one side of Johnny, Val to the other.  The gunfighters and vaqueros fell in behind.

Murdoch, along with Carlos and the men from Lancer, entered Nogales at a walk.  They didn’t stop or slow down as they moved through town and toward the border.   Murdoch scanned the rooftops and streets, seeing Rurales just where Slade said they’d be.  People lined the streets and boardwalks, and along with them stood the gunfighters, he prayed would make the difference between life and death for his sons.

Val had been right.  It looked like a circus was coming to town and the main attraction was his son. 

‘My son,’ Murdoch thought as he felt pride welling up inside him. All these people were waiting to see his son.

For the first time, Murdoch realized he’d never told Johnny how proud he was of him.  He thought he knew who his son was before he’d started this trip.  Johnny told him once that he was one man with two names.  Murdoch had come to terms with that.  Now he was coming to terms with the fact that it wasn’t Johnny Lancer the people along the street were waiting to see, it was Johnny Madrid.  It was the name Madrid, not Lancer, who the vaqueros at Rancho Worthington praised.  It wasn’t Johnny Lancer giving the orders this morning; it was Johnny Madrid.       

As Murdoch approached the border, he saw dozens of Rurales lined up across the road.  He looked off in the distance and saw Joe standing with other ranchers and gunfighters on the other side of the border.

Murdoch didn’t stop but kept riding.  A Rurales officer stepped to stop him.

“Senor,” the officer raised his hand, halting them, “I am Colonel Francisco Vasquez.”

“Colonel,” Murdoch tipped his hat, “is there a reason you’re blocking my way?”

“We are looking for a man.  We want to make sure he is not with you. What was your business in Mexico?” Vasquez scanned the faces of the men on horseback.  

“My name is Murdoch Lancer, and these are my men.  I’m not sure who you are looking for, but I assure you that neither myself nor my men are wanted in Mexico. As for my business in Mexico, it’s just that, my business, however, if you have to know we came for horses.”

Murdoch turned in the saddle and looked at the string of horses his men were leading.

Vasquez’s eyes narrowed when he looked at Carlos. “Who do you work for, vaquero?”  

“I work for Rancho Worthington,” Carlos sat straight in the saddle and answered.  “My Patron waits on the other side of the border.  Senor Lancer is correct; the Rurales want no one here.”

The Colonel looked around and waved one of his men forward.  “We are looking for Johnny Madrid.  Ramirez here was at the prison in Nuevo Casa Granda when Madrid escaped with two other men.  He knows what the pistolero looks like”

The Colonel turned to the man who now stood next to him.  

“Ramirez, is any of these men Madrid?”

The man named Ramirez looked at Murdoch and then at each of the men with him.  After a few moments, he answered, “No, Colonel.  None of these men is Madrid.  Madrid is much younger than any of these men.   He would also be injured.”   Ramirez lowered his head, “Sanchez made sure of that.”

Vasquez nodded.  He’d heard what Sanchez had done to Madrid and it made him sick to think of it. 

Vasquez waved Murdoch through.  “We will delay you no further, Senor. Let them pass,” he called out to his men.

Murdoch kicked his horse forward, and the others followed.  He took a deep breath as he rode across the invisible line of the Mexican/American border. 

Joe walked forward to meet him.

“Murdoch,” Joe held out his hand, “thank God you’re safe.  We’ve been worried.  We expected you earlier today.  Jack Slade was here yesterday and this morning.  He’s been organizing the gunfighters.”

“I know, Joe,” Murdoch replied. “The gunfighters are here to help Johnny, not kill him.  I don’t know if I understand it myself, but I’m not questioning it right now. “

Murdoch turned as a group of gunfighters walked up.  Under normal circumstances, he would have been leery, but given the situation, he somehow felt safe with these men around him. 

“I’m Larry Tate,” one of the gunfighters spoke up. “This is Jess Bonner,” Tate introduced the man standing beside him.  “Did either Slade or Madrid send you?  Do you know how long before they get here?”  The gunfighter was tall, with brown hair and didn’t look much older than Johnny.

“Yes. I’m Murdoch Lancer.  My son will be here within the hour.  Slade is with him now.”

The gunfighters looked at each other.

“Your son?” Tate questioned.  “You Madrid’s Pa?”

“Yes, Johnny is my son,” Murdoch answered proudly.  He’d almost corrected the young gunfighter telling him that the name was Lancer. However, these men were not here to help Johnny Lancer.  They were here to help one of their own, Johnny Madrid.  “He’s on the outskirts of Nogales now.  Slade has briefed him on what to expect.  I don’t know all the details and don’t need to Mr. Tate.  I am thankful you and these men are here to help John.”

“Slade has us pretty much ready for this.  We don’t know what to expect from the Rurales, but we all agree on one thing, Mr. Lancer.  We’re gonna do everything we can to get Madrid out of Mexico.  They have near on 100 Rurales over there now.  We have close to 50 gunhawks, so,” Tate grinned, “I think things are about even.”

“You also have the ranchers and vaqueros on this side, Mr. Tate,” Joe spoke up.  “Johnny went into Mexico to get me out of that prison.  He wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for me.  My neighbors and I will do what’s necessary to help him. You just tell us what you need.”

“We figured Madrid and Slade would have been here a long time ago.” Tate looked back toward the border.  “We were kinda’ worried something had gone wrong.”

“We’ve been moving slowly.  Slade met us this morning. We decided to give John some time to rest before coming in,” Murdoch reported, not feeling comfortable talking about his son in front of these men. However, they were here to help, and they needed to know all the facts.

“How is he, Murdoch?” Joe asked.

“Not well, Joe,” Murdoch shook his head.  “He’s going to need a doctor when he gets here.”

“We have a doctor,” Joe looked around.  A tall, thin man with a mustache and blond hair had joined them. “This is Ben Larson.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lancer,” Dr. Larson said as he extended his hand. “Joe has told me a little about your son’s condition.  I would like to know more.  I need to know what to expect.”

“I don’t know where to start,” Murdoch answered as he shook the doctor’s hand.  “Between the beatings and the whipping he received, he’s having a difficult time.  Mostly he’s weak.  God only knows how he’s sitting a horse right now.”

Tate didn’t say anything.  Slade told them Madrid was hurt and weak.  In their profession, that could mean getting yourself killed.   Today it meant they had no idea how much help they were going to get from the man they were there to save.

Murdoch’s head shot up at the sound of a horse’s hoofs.  Everyone watched as Carlos rode back across the border.

---

In Nogales, Carlos joined vaqueros from other ranches.  As they started to ride south to join Johnny, he noticed a Rurales patrol coming into town. 

Colonel Vasquez watched the Worthington vaquero re-cross the border.   He’d just received a report that several riders were moving north to Nogales and felt that Madrid was getting closer.  He also thought it was time that he rode south to meet these men. 

Vasquez mounted his horse and motioned for the patrol that had just come in, to follow him back out of town.

---

Johnny and the gunfighters were only a few minutes from Nogales when Val called out that riders were coming toward them.  They recognized Carlos along with several other vaqueros riding fast.

Carlos reined in his horse.

“Juanito, a Rurales patrol is following us.  They will be here in only moments.”

Val looked around and shook his head.

“Johnny, that damn red shirt shows up like a two-bit whore at a church social.  That patrol isn’t gonna have any trouble figuring out who you are.  One of you fellows give him a coat to put on?”

The man closest to Johnny unstrapped a coat from the rear of his saddle and handed it over.  Scott helped his brother struggle into the oversized jacket just as the dust cloud from the Rurales patrol came into sight.

“Johnny, you get back and try to blend in with the fellows.”

Val looked back as Johnny maneuvered his horse to the center of the gunfighters and vaqueros.  Scott moved his horse in front of his brother. Val looked at Slade as he moved back to position himself next to Johnny. 

“Slade, you do the talking.”

Slade looked around.  If he hadn’t known which man Madrid was, he wouldn’t have been able to pick him out of the men that were behind him.

Vasquez led his men to within 20 feet of the newcomers to Nogales.

“Senor, I am Colonel Francisco Vasquez.”

“Colonel,” Slade leaned across his saddle horn with his right hand on the butt of his gun.  “Can we help you with something?”

“I am not sure,” Vasquez’s eyes scanned the men before him.  “My men and I are looking for a man.  Have you seen any strangers?  There would be three men riding together.” 

Slade thought a moment and looked back at the men behind him.  “Can’t say we have Colonel.  You say, three men?  Say we did see three fellows a couple of days ago.  One of them looked like he was ailing.  Could that be who you’re looking for?” 

“Possibly, senor.” Vasquez brought his horse closer to Slade. “Do you know which way they were traveling?”

“Nogales.  They said something about needing a drink and a bath.   Think they would also need a doctor if I’m right.” Slade was watching Vasquez closely as he edged his horse even closer.

“You are pistoleros?” Vasquez questioned, still looking over the men in front of him.

“Yeah, some of us are pistoleros.  You have a problem with that?” Slade drawled.

“No problem, senor,” Vasquez responded.  “There are many pistoleros in Nogales at this time.  You would not know why would you?”

“No idea, Colonel.  Who knows, the fellows might like the climate.  Heard Nogales is heating up,” Slade replied with a smile.

Vasquez caught sight of Carlos. “We meet again, vaquero.”

“Si, Colonel,” Carlos answered, meeting the Colonel’s eyes.

Johnny was fighting the urge to cough.  He bent forward slightly and put his arm over his mouth.  Val was watching him as they listened to the exchange between Slade and the Rurales Colonel.

Johnny thought he had control when suddenly his cough broke the still air.

Vasquez’s head shot up, his next question to Carlos forgotten.  Vasquez turned to Slade.

“You have no men with you who are ill, do you, senor?”

Vasquez guided his horse past Slade and edged closer to the center of the gunfighters. 

Slade looked back at Madrid and cursed under his breath.

“Got a kid back there that came down with a cold yesterday.  The snot-nosed boy’s been coughing like crazy,” Slade answered, shaking his head.

Vasquez moved his horse back further until he was beside Johnny, edging Val’s horse out of the way.

“So, Nino, you are not well?” Vasquez looked Johnny up and down.  The boy in front of him seemed to be sick.  His face was thin, with dark circles under his eyes, and he looked to have a fever.  It was hard to tell anything about him as the coat he wore seemed to be too big.   Still, he was searching for a man, not a boy.

“Yeah,” Johnny answered, in the best Johnny Lancer voice he could muster and wiped his nose with the arm of his jacket.  The entire time he was keeping his eyes down.

Val cleared his throat and looked at Johnny.  “Mind your manners, boy.”

Johnny glared at his friend.  “Sorry, I mean, yes, Sir.  Not used to these cold nights in the desert.  I sure will be glad to get home.”

Slade lowered his head and hid a smile.  He’d just witnessed Madrid turn back into a teenager.

“Your Papa teaches you manners.  That is good, Nino.  What is your name, Nino?  Is this your Papa?”  Vasquez asked, looking at Val. 

Johnny coughed again, bending over a little more and then straightened up as straight as he could.   “Name’s Ruiz, Juan Ruiz.”  He pointed at Val.  “Yes, Sir, that’s my Step- Pa.”

Johnny’s mother had used the name Ruiz many times over the years.  Johnny didn’t know why, but it was as good a name as any to give the Colonel.

“He’s my boy, mister,” Val spoke up.  He’d turned around to watch the interaction of Vasquez and Johnny, keeping his hand on the butt of his gun the entire time.  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get the boy home.  His Ma worries something fierce.”

“Why do you wear a coat when it is so hot?” Vasquez questioned, looking closer at the boy.

“He’s been having chills even in this heat.  Can’t seem to keep him warm,” Val volunteered.

To the shock of not only Johnny but the gunfighters around him, Vasquez reached out and placed a hand on Johnny’s forehead.

“You have a fever, Nino. You should not be riding.”

Johnny blushed and pulled away from Vasquez’s hand.

“Yes, Sir.  I got a little fever.  It seems to come and go.  Nothing to worry about right now.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Vasquez.

Vasquez looked once again at the gunfighters and vaqueros.  He still wasn’t satisfied the man he was searching for wasn’t among them.   He turned back to Slade.

“Should you see the men I am looking for, I would be very grateful if you let me know.”

Vasquez reined his horse around and waved his men back toward Nogales.

The moment the Rurales rode away, Johnny leaned over the saddle horn and started coughing. Scott moved beside him and handed him a canteen.  Val was out of the saddle and on the ground next to Johnny’s horse.  With Scott on one side and Val on the other, they kept him seated.  It took several minutes before he could catch his breath.

Johnny was burning up now.  He took the coat off and handed it back to its owner.  Between the heavy coat and the coughing spell, he had beads of sweat on his face, and his shirt was wet.

“Where did that come from?” Val looked up at Johnny as he composed himself.

“God, if I know, Val,” Johnny said, wiping his eyes.   He looked at Slade and reset his hat.  “Let’s get this dance started.”

---

As they entered Nogales, Johnny rode slowly, watching everything around him.  Slade and Johnny led the group into town.  Val and Scott followed.  The rest of the gunfighters and vaqueros trailed close behind. 

Johnny’s nerves were on end.   He looked over his shoulder at his brother, who gave him a smile in return.

“You’ve got this, little brother,” Scott said, gripping his rifle.  He could feel the tension in the air.  Looking up to see Rurales on rooftops and either side of the street, Scott couldn’t control the shiver that ran through him.

Scott watched his brother riding in front of him.  Although Johnny was hurt and weak, he was also very much in his element.  Johnny was every bit Madrid at that moment.

They’d just started down the main street of town when the sound of mission bells filled the air.  The sound of the bells caused Johnny to pull up.  He lowered his head, shook it slightly, and then glanced over his shoulder at Val.  Val was smiling.  Johnny started moving forward again. 

Scott looked at Val and then back at Carlos.  “They ring the bells for Juanito,” the vaquero answered the question on Scott’s face. 

“The mission bells ring for Juanito,” Carlos called out.

The streets of Nogales were full of people from both sides of the border.  All of them waiting to see Madrid.  People fell silent in the normally bustling town as Johnny rode past.  The streets cleared and everyone moved to the boardwalks.  The only sound they heard was that of the mission bells.

---

North of the border, Murdoch stood with Joe and Molly, waiting for sight of his son.  The sound of the mission bells caused the vaqueros around them to cheer.

Murdoch looked at Joe and Cipriano.  

“Juanito has entered Nogales, Patron,” Cipriano said, looking at Murdoch with a smile on his face.  “The mission bells are ringing.”

“I don’t understand,” Murdoch said, looking around.

“Murdoch, it isn’t unusual for the mission bells to ring when Johnny Madrid either rides into or out of a town or village down here,” Joe spoke up.  “The boy has helped a lot of people.”

‘Just one more piece to the puzzle,’ Murdoch thought.

---

Scott watched as gunfighter after gunfighter stepped off the boardwalk and started walking beside those on horseback.

Slade had been right.  It became apparent to Johnny as they moved further into the town that no one was going to try to stop them.   He almost wished he was in a running battle right now.  At least he knew what to expect when someone was shooting at him. 

---

Unlike Juarez, where the Rio Grande marked the border, the invisible line here between the United States and Mexico was marked only by a tall marker.  On the northern side of the marker was Nogales, Arizona.  On the southern side was Nogales, Mexico, in Sonora. 

All too soon, they were within sight of the border marker.  As Johnny approached the border, he saw two rows of Rurales standing shoulder to shoulder, blocking his way, all with rifles pointed his way.  The back row was standing, and the front row knelt, reminding him of a firing squad.

Johnny stopped, leaning forward in the saddle.  He glanced behind him.  It looked like half the town had followed them.

Johnny lifted his Colt from his holster and then placed his arm across the saddle horn.  Men on horseback and gunfighters on foot moved to line up on either side of him.

Johnny looked beyond the rows of Rurales and could see Murdoch standing with Joe Worthington on the other side of the border, both men holding rifles.  There were also at least two dozen gunfighters and dozens of ranchers just over the line.

Vasquez watched the gunfighters and vaqueros approached the border.  He shook his head.  The men coming toward him were vastly outnumbered.  How could they even think they were going to win a gun battle today?  His eyes fell on the two leading men, recognizing the gunfighter in black.  It was the other man who surprised him.

Vasquez stepped forward, stopping in front of Slade.  “We meet again, Senor.” 

He looked closely at the Nino he’d talked to earlier.  The heavy coat was gone and, in its place, the chico wore a red shirt.  Vasquez knew the shirt was Madrid’s trademark.

“I thought we had already had this conversation, Colonel,” Slade’s irritated voice carried over the border.           

“Oh, but we have not finished our conversation, Senor.” Vasquez motioned for the man called Ramirez to come forward.  Vasquez looked at Johnny again.  “I see the Nino is feeling better.”

Johnny didn’t answer.

“Ramirez, is this man Madrid?” Vasquez turned his eyes from Slade and looked directly at Johnny.

Johnny kept his hat down over his eyes.  Recognizing the man referred to as Ramirez, Johnny could still feel the man’s hands holding him for Sanchez.

Ramirez walked forward, coming to a stop next to the Colonel.  He looked up at the man sitting a horse in front of him.  When Colonel Vasquez brought him to Nogales, there was no doubt in his mind he’d be able to identify Madrid.  After all, he was one of the men who held Madrid while Sanchez beat the man.  He’d helped drag the pistolero to the center of the compound and tied his wrists to the whipping posts.

Ramirez expected to see the bearded face of the man Sanchez had whipped to the point of death only days earlier.  What he saw was a clean-shaven boy no older than his own younger brother.  The man Sanchez had beaten and whipped would be at death’s door.  The man he had held for Sanchez would not be sitting on a horse.  This man could not be Madrid.

“Well, Ramirez?  Is this Madrid?” Vasquez turned to the only man he had with him who could identify the gunfighter.   He could see Ramirez was having difficulty. 

Ramirez hesitated. “I am not certain,” Ramirez answered, knowing that his answer would not make the Colonel happy.  Ramirez lowered his voice so that only the Colonel could hear.  “If I could see his eyes or hear his voice, I would know.  I do not know if this man is Madrid.”

Vasquez was at a loss as to what to do.  He couldn’t afford to make a mistake.  It was Madrid he was ordered to take prisoner.  The boy in the red shirt was pale and thin; he already knew he was sick.   He looked at the other pistoleros.  Any one of these men could be Madrid.  Vasquez decided to treat the boy as Madrid until proven otherwise.

“Senor Madrid,” Vasquez turned back to Johnny.  “You will come with us now, and there will be no bloodshed.”

Johnny pushed his hat back away from his forehead, a slight smile on his face.  His icy blue eyes stared down at the Colonel. 

“No, Colonel,” Johnny said in a soft level drawl, “I don’t think so.  I only got one plan, and that’s to cross the border and find a soft bed for the night.  I’d appreciate it if you’d step aside.”

Time seemed to stand still.

---

Across the border, Larry Tate looked at Gammon.  Both men shrugged.  Murdoch saw Tate and Gammon’s movements.

“Mr. Tate?” Murdoch quietly asked.

Tate turned to look at Murdoch.  “Mister is that … kid, sitting over there next to Slade, is that your son?  Is that really Johnny Madrid?”

Tate had never seen Madrid.  He had, however, heard about him for years and always thought Madrid would be older.

Murdoch hesitated.  He was trying to see and hear what was being said across the border.

“Yes, Mr. Tate.  That ‘kid’ as you called him is my son and, yes, he’s Johnny Madrid.  Is there a problem?”

“No.  No, there’s no problem.  Just thought Madrid would be older,” Tate responded, not taking his eyes off Johnny.  “Heard Madrid was meaner than a rattler and faster than lightning.  Been hearing about him since I was a kid. Well, just didn’t expect him … just thought he’d be older.”

‘You’re still a kid,’ Murdoch thought to himself but didn’t dare say it aloud.

Murdoch quickly glanced again at Tate, Gammon, and the other gunfighters around him. Tate seemed to be in awe of Johnny.  He wondered how many of these men were looking at his son the same way.

Murdoch looked back across the border.  Everyone was still waiting for the Colonel’s next move.

---

Vasquez turned questioningly to Ramirez.  Ramirez’s eyes shot to the man on the horse in front of him.  There was no doubt this was the man who had taken Sanchez’s whip and who, in a voice that had filled the prison compound, said: “Madrid don’t beg.” 

Ramirez looked at Johnny’s wrists.  He could see the still unhealed marks from the ropes that had held him.  There was no doubt now.

The sound of his own voice surprised him as he looked up at Johnny and loudly announced, “Colonel, Si… this man is Madrid.”

Ramirez’s proclamation sent a shock wave through the ranks of the Rurales.  Even Vasquez’s head snapped around to look at the man in front of him in a different light. 

Finally, Vasquez found his voice, “Senor Madrid, I cannot allow you to cross the border.” 

Staring into Madrid’s eyes sent a chill through Vasquez.  This was not the same chico he’d spoken to only minutes earlier on the outskirts of town.  He’d heard stories of this man, some from his own family.  It appeared that the stories were true.

“I will say again. You will come with me. Now!”  Vasquez made a motion of his hand.  “You are surrounded, senor.”

Johnny tensed as he looked around to see Rurales, with rifles raised, moving into place all around the vaqueros and gunfighters that were near him.

“As you can see, it is useless to fight.  Do not force me to kill those who wish to protect you,” Vasquez smiled.

Johnny sighed, and a broader smile crossed his face.

“There are going to be a lot of people killed here today, Colonel if you don’t step aside.  We may be surrounded, Colonel, but so are you.”  Johnny raised his left hand. 

From out of nowhere, gunfighters and vaqueros stepped out of the crowd, guns drawn and moved behind the Rurales. 

“Don’t forget about those on the other side of the border, Colonel.  We’re within rifle range.” Johnny pointed behind the Colonel.

Vasquez turned to look at the American side of the border.  There were dozens of guns pointed at him and his men as gunfighters had joined ranchers.

“Colonel, as you can see, somehow, I’ve acquired a small army,” Johnny drawled, still smiling.  “I’m going to ask that your men drop their guns while we move through.  I don’t want anyone getting trigger happy.  I wouldn’t like to think about what would happen if someone ‘accidentally’ fired a shot while I was crossing the border.  This fight could turn into a bloodbath.”  

The smile had now left Johnny’s face.

The Colonel didn’t say anything or move. Vasquez saw Madrid’s shoulders slightly sag.

‘What Ramirez had said earlier was true.  Madrid was badly hurt and sick.’

“I have heard of what Sanchez did,” Vasquez said.  “He will be punished for his actions.”

“No need, Colonel,” Johnny grinned.  “I’ve made sure Sanchez is already in hell waiting for us.”

A murmur ran through the Rurales troops.

“Colonel, it appears Mexico is no longer good for my health.  All I want to do now is cross the border,” Johnny stated, moving slightly in the saddle. “The men you see with me have volunteered to help me do that.  Can I say the same about your men?  Have they volunteered to die today?  I’m surprised some of them haven’t already thought about changing sides.”

Carlos looked at Johnny and then at the Rurales in front of him.  He knew many of them came from the poor villages Madrid had helped. 

Carlos straightened himself, stood higher in his stirrups, and called out in Spanish, “AMIGOS… ESUCHAME. (Listen to me.)  ESCUCHAME,” he repeated even louder.  “Tú sabes el nombre Madrid. (You know the name Madrid)”

He looked around and then repeated in English.  “You know the name Madrid.  You know he has helped many of your villages in the past.  When you return to your homes and villages and are asked about this day, do you truly wish to tell your people that you helped Johnny Madrid or that you stood against him?  When stories are told of this day, and they will be told, how do you want to be remembered?  Any man standing against Madrid today is without honor.  Is this how you repay your debt to him?  Is this how you repay the debt of your family or your village?”

There was a stir in the Rurales ranks.  Vasquez knew what the vaquero said was true.  His own village was one that had been helped by Madrid several years earlier.  His family owed a debt to Madrid.  However, now, he had a duty, and that duty was to capture Johnny Madrid, alive. 

Vasquez turned to look at his men.  He could tell this was not going well.  He saw some rifles barrels lowered.

Slade looked at the man sitting beside him.  He smiled when he saw Madrid blush.  Admitting he was more than a little impressed, he could see how Madrid had become a legend in Mexico.  Good or bad, the boy had an effect on these people. 

Murdoch stood on the American side of the border and listened to what Carlos said.  He’d learned a lot about his son in the last few weeks.  He remembered Johnny’s words a few months earlier.

“Where I come from, I’m respected for who I am and what I am.”

It hadn’t been easy for Johnny to settle into his life at Lancer.  Murdoch could now see why.  Seeing the way these people looked at his son, he wondered how many people’s lives Johnny had touched, how many lives Madrid had touched. 

Murdoch looked across the border and watched his youngest son.  The only word that came to mind was ‘pride.’  He was proud of his son.

---

Johnny straightened in the saddle, trying to hide the pain that shot through him.  Scott moved his horse closer to him.

“Hold on,” he whispered.

Johnny glanced at him and nodded.  It was getting harder for him to keep the pain under control.  The slight fever that started outside of Nogales was now setting in.  His thoughts began to wander.  He thought of his father across the border and then of Lancer.  He wanted to close his eyes.  He actually jumped when he heard the Colonels’ voice.

“My superiors expect me to bring you to them alive, Senor Madrid,” Vasquez said.

Johnny took a deep breath. “Colonel, I can honestly tell you that your superiors are going to be very disappointed.  If you are able to take me, and I do mean if, it won’t be alive.”

Johnny’s voice had gone cold.

“There is no way for you to know that, Senor,” Vasquez stated.

“Oh, but there is, Colonel,” Johnny smiled.  “Slade?  Curly?”

“Don’t you worry none, Johnny.  Just like we promised,” Slade answered, staring at the Colonel.   “Curly and me will make sure the Colonel’s superiors are real disappointed.”

A murmur ran through the ranchers and vaqueros.     

Murdoch closed his eyes.  He knew what his son said was true.  He’d known it earlier that day, and he knew it now.  Johnny wouldn’t be taken alive.  Murdoch took a step forward and stopped knowing there was nothing he could do.

Scott and Val both looked at Johnny, knowing now why Johnny wanted to talk to Slade and Curly.   Johnny had hired his own assassins.

Vasquez hesitated.  He glanced around him. Madrid had seen to it that his mission would fail.  If he ordered his men to open fire, Madrid would most probably be killed.   If Madrid were taken alive, Madrid’s own men would kill him.  Vasquez’s superiors had made his orders clear.  Madrid was to be taken alive.  An example had to be made.

Putting more of his weight on the saddle horn, Johnny pointed his gun at the Colonel. 

Vasquez’s eyes narrowed.  “Senor Madrid?” Colonel Vasquez took a step back.

“Calm down, Colonel,” Johnny coughed. “According to you, I’m the only one here that isn’t going to catch a bullet, at least from your side.  The problem is, you’re the first person I’m gonna make sure does catch a bullet when this goes down.”

“This is going nowhere fast, Madrid,” Slade spoke up, seeing Johnny was fading.

“I agree, Jack.  Colonel, let me introduce Jack Slade.  Some other top guns are standing around you might have heard of.  You see, any gunhawk worth his salt can take out 5 or 6 men in a matter of seconds.”   Johnny coughed and then called out, “Everyone, pick your targets.  The Colonel and Ramirez are mine.”  

Val was edging closer.

“Hold on, Amigo,” Val’s voice was low. He’d seen Johnny jerk earlier and half expected to push him back into the saddle at any moment.

“Colonel, I’m giving you one more chance…”  Johnny stopped, taking a breath.  “No, forget that.  Hell, I ain’t giving you no more chances.  Let’s get this dance started.” Johnny pushed his horse forward.   He got up to the Colonel.  “MOVE!” he said in a cold icy voice.

Johnny started forward again.  Val and Scott followed Johnny, as others began moving forward. 

The Rurales were waiting for orders as Johnny’s horse started to pass the Colonel.  Vasquez knew he’d lost.  He looked at Madrid and then lowered his head.  “I must agree, Senor Madrid.  My superiors will be very disappointed.”

Johnny stopped expecting shots to ring out.  He saw Scott tighten the grip on his rifle and move closer to him.  Slade had his hand on his gun.

“I believe, Senor, we have what you gringos call a Mexican standoff.  EVERYONE, lower your weapons,” Vasquez called out.  “Step aside.  Let them pass.”

Vasquez waved a hand at the men behind him.

Johnny’s heart jumped to his throat.  He suddenly felt light-headed.  Was the Colonel going to let them pass?

“Am I right that none of the men standing with me are wanted in Mexico?” Johnny asked. “I’d hate to have to come back across the border and bring them out.”

“No,” Vasquez answered, “those with you are free to go.  We are … we were here for only you.”

“Slade, get everyone across the border,” Johnny ordered, never taking his eyes off of Vasquez.

Slade moved forward.

“If anyone has horses back there, go get them now.  We’re crossing the border.”

A few men ran back to town and quickly rode back to join them. 

“Slade,” Curly spoke up, “I saw some lawmen waiting across the border the other day.  What about the law waiting for any of us on the other side?”

“Johnny?” Slade questioned.

“Don’t worry about the law,” Johnny laughed.  “I figure we’ve got them outnumbered right now.  If anyone wants to stay on this side of the border, you’ll have to trust the Colonel here.”

Vasquez turned to his men.  Waving his hand, he indicated the Rurales to move aside.

Curly was the first to cross the border.   Gunfighters on foot moved forward, with guns drawn to guard the opening made.  Slade moved to ride directly behind Johnny.

Johnny nodded and tipped his hat to Vasquez. “Been a real pleasure dealing with you today, Colonel.” 

“Senor Madrid, I would suggest you never return to Mexico.  Should you return, I can assure you that you will never leave.  I do not believe you will have an ‘army’ with you the next time,” Vasquez said as he stepped aside.

Johnny spurred his horse forward.  He slowly rode past the Rurales and across the border.  A cheer went up from those on the American side.  Johnny stopped and turned in the saddle to make sure all of the men had safely crossed into the United States.                                    

Scott moved up next to him and reached out.   Johnny put a hand out to wave him off.  He knew this wasn’t over yet.  They were still too close to the border and the Rurales.

Johnny moved forward and stopped next to Murdoch. He smiled, looking down at his father.

“John,” Murdoch said as he looked up into his son’s face.

“Told you I’d see you later,” Johnny drawled.  He pulled himself up.  “Val.  Slade.”

“Here, Johnny,” Val said.

“I’m here, Madrid,” Slade moved in next to Val.

“Make sure everyone is clear of the border and out of rifle range.  Set up some sentries,” Johnny ordered, looking around the area.  “I still don’t trust that Colonel.  That was way too easy.”

“We’ll take care of it, Johnny,” Val answered as he moved away.

Slade nodded.  “Was kinda’ easy, wasn’t it?”   Slade looked around and yelled.  “Everyone, stay alert.  Don’t figure this is over yet.” 

Johnny’s head fell onto his chest, and he leaned forward in the saddle. Scott jumped down from his horse.  Taking hold of the halter on Johnny’s horse, he guided it further from the border.   Murdoch, Joe, and the doctor followed.

Once they had reached the temporary camp, Johnny slowly threw his leg over the saddle and slipped to the ground.  Holding onto the saddle, he looked to see Joe smiling at him.

“Joe, you got a bed I can use for a few days?  I’m kind of tired.”

Johnny turned to find Scott beside him.  His smile faded as he melted into his brother’s arms.

“Take him to my tent,” Ben Lawson said.  “I need to get a good look at him.”

---

A very long hour later, Ben Lawson walked out of the tent to talk to Murdoch and Joe.

“Overall, it’s bad, but it could be worse and appears to have been worse.  Your son is going to need a great deal of care and rest.  The wounds made by the whip are bad.  I can tell the wounds were kept as clean as possible and dressed; however, some are badly infected.  He has a fever, and it’s getting worse. There are also at least two cracked ribs and there have been some major impacts to his stomach and abdomen.”

“He seemed to throw up every time Scott dressed the wounds on his back,” Murdoch said, remembering the few times Scott attended Johnny’s wounds in the last two days. 

The doctor nodded.  “That’s partly because of the pain.   As his back heals, that should resolve itself.  Some of it is because of the impacts on his stomach.  We need to work on getting solid foods into him.”

“How long before he can travel?” Murdoch asked.

“I would say at least 4 or 5 weeks.  Any sooner and he risks long term damage.” 

Murdoch rubbed his face and looked toward the tent, his youngest son was in.

“Don’t worry, Murdoch,” Joe spoke up, “you’ll be staying with us at the ranch.  Molly knows how to keep him down.”

“Thank you, Joe.”

“Mr. Lancer, Scott is with him now. Why don’t you get some rest?”

Murdoch scanned the encampment. The long day was almost over.  Val and Slade had set about posting sentries to watch over the temporary camp.  He noticed several gunhawks starting to mill around the doctor’s tent. 

Val walked up.

“Doc,” Val drawled, “can I see Johnny?  It’s real important.”

“He’s awake,” the doctor answered. “I don’t see a reason you can’t.”

Murdoch and Joe looked at each other.

Murdoch shook his head. ‘What now?’  

Val entered the tent to find Johnny, eyes closed, lying on a cot with Scott sitting beside him.  When Val cleared his throat, Johnny’s eyes flew open.  

Val moved closer and knelt on one knee.

“Johnny, I hate to bother you, but I need your help.”

Johnny pushed himself up on one elbow and winced.  “What is it?”

“Well, the boys out there are getting nervous.  Some lawmen are wandering around.  A few of the fellows have already left, but the rest aren’t leaving until they see you,” Val said.  “I think they want to make sure you’re alright before they ride out.  To tell the truth, having this many gunhawks around is making me nervous.  I keep expecting gunfights to break out.”

Johnny looked at Val and then at Scott.

“They laid a lot on the line for me today.  I need to thank them.  Val, give me some time to get dressed.  Tell them I’ll be out in about 30 minutes.” Johnny pushed himself up to sit on the side of the cot.

“You can’t be serious,” Scott protested.

Johnny gave Scott a weak smile. “Just help me dress.”

Scott knew it was useless to argue and reluctantly helped his brother.

Val left the tent and walked past Murdoch, Joe, and the doctor without saying a word.    The doctor started to go back into the tent only to have the way barred by Scott.

“Just a few minutes, Doc.”

Twenty minutes later, the tent flap opened, and a fully clothed Johnny Madrid walked out with Scott by his side.

The doctor began advancing on Johnny, but Murdoch pulled him back.

“It’s his call,” Murdoch declared and followed his sons.

Johnny walked out about 30 feet and stopped.  To one side of the camp were the gunfighters.  To the other side were the ranchers and vaqueros.  

Turning to the gunfighters, Johnny laughed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Boys, we’re in an exclusive club, you and me.  Still, helping another gunhawk isn’t something we do every day.  Never would have believed so many of you would have come to my rescue. The only time I can remember us getting together like this is when there’s a paying job.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” someone yelled out, and everyone laughed.

“I owe you.  I owe you all, big time.  You had my back these last few days when you didn’t have to.  It’s not something I’ll forget.”  Johnny’s voice changed to a slow drawl.   “I know some of you have wanted my reputation, and some of you still do.  Trust me when I tell you, I don’t want yours.  I’ve been trying to walk away from the game.”

When Johnny shifted his weight, Scott moved closer in case he was needed.

Johnny glance over his shoulder to see Joe holding a chair for him to sit in.  “Thanks, Joe.”

“You trying to walk away, Johnny?” someone else called out.  “Not easy to do.”

“No, walking away isn’t easy.  I’m trying, but the past has a way of coming up and nudging me sometimes.  I’m a rancher now or at least trying to be,” Johnny answered.  “I still use my gun, but only when I need to.

Johnny’s voice changed.  His easy manner evaporated to be replaced by Madrid’s low menacing drawl.

“So that you know, I still practice every day.  I haven’t gotten soft, and I’m sure not any slower.  I don’t start a fight, but I will finish it.  After today, I’d sure hate to take any one of you down.

“I know some of you are ready to move on.  I just wanted to thank you before you left.  If any of you ever need help… and aren’t trying to kill me, just let me know.  I’ll be there.”

The gunfighters laughed.

“We gonna have some kinda’ secret handshake?” a voice called out. 

“I don’t think that would work,” someone else called out.  “You try to shake my hand, and I’d probably shoot you.”

There was more laughter.

“I know, we just tell you we were in Madrid’s Army,” a voice from the back of the group called out.

“Whoa, boys,” Johnny laughed, holding up both his hands in front of him, “you’re gonna give me a big head.”

“Damn, Johnny, you already got that,” Val laughed.

“I have someone’s rig here.  I’ll have Val get it back to you,” Johnny said.

“Keep it, Madrid,” Curley answered. “I kinda’ borrowed it myself.”

Johnny was having trouble sitting up.  Murdoch moved closer and put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder.

“Gentlemen, John needs to lie down.”

“Johnny, that really your Pa?”

Johnny didn’t know who asked the question. 

“It is.” Johnny almost introduced both Murdoch and Scott and then thought better of it.  It was bad enough that everyone knew Murdoch was his father.  Right now, not many of them knew his father’s name. “I’d better do as he says.  I just wanted to thank you.

“I’m hoping that Colonel was straight with us when he said he was backing down.  If any of you want to hang around, I’d appreciate it.  If not, I understand.  The ranchers that helped today have to live on the border.  I’d hate for them to have problems because of today.”

Scott helped Johnny to stand.

“Madrid, how long before you’re able to travel?” Slade asked and moved forward.

“Don’t know,” Johnny turned to Ben Lawson. “Doc?”

“It will be at least four weeks before he can ride,” Doctor Lawson answered.

“Why do you need to know, Slade?” Johnny asked suspiciously.

“Just thought you might need some of us to make sure you got home. I don’t trust those Rurales, either.  Where is home?”

“California, San Joaquin Valley,” Johnny answered with a smile.  He wanted to say that Lancer was the most beautiful place in the world.

“Pardee?” Slade asked.

Johnny’s smile faded and he sat back down.  He could feel Murdoch and Scott stiffen.

Johnny looked directly at Slade.

“What about Pardee?”

“Pardee was trying to take over a ranch in the San Joaquin. You meet up with Day out there?”

“Yeah,” Johnny answered, “Let’s just say Day tried to take over the wrong ranch.  He won’t be making that mistake again.  You got a problem with that?”

“Nope,” Slade laughed. “Didn’t much like Pardee anyway.”

Johnny stood and walked back to the tent.  

Scott opened the tent flap and watched as Johnny slowly moved into the tent and then lowered himself back onto the cot.

Scott knelt ready to help Johnny take off his boots.

“You doing alright, little brother?”

“Yeah,” Johnny nodded.  “Can’t believe it’s finally over.  Never been so glad to be on American soil in my life.  Wanta’ give me a hand?” Johnny motioned toward his boots. “I want to sleep for about a week.”

Scott lifted one of Johnny’s feet when Slade lifted the flap of the tent and peered in.

“Johnny, that Rurales Colonel is headed this way under a white flag.  You want us to let him through?”

Johnny lowered his head and sighed. “Damn, I knew it was too easy.”   Looking at Slade, he said, “No, keep the Colonel out of camp.  Don’t want him to get a good look around.  Give me a minute.”

Johnny leaned forward and placed his head on Scott’s chest. “Dios mio, hermano, I’m tired.”

Scott placed a hand on the back of Johnny’s neck and gently rubbed it.  He could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“You don’t have to see him.  Let Val or Slade take care of it.”

“Slade and the other gunfighters did what they said they would do.  They got me across the border alive.  They’re out of this now.   As for Val… well, not gonna put him in that position.  The man wants to see me,” Johnny raised his head.  “Let’s see what he wants.” 

Scott helped Johnny to his feet.  Scott already knew what was going to happen and prepared himself for the arrival of Madrid.

Scott lifted the flap on the tent and Johnny walked out.  Val and Slade stood just outside, while Murdoch, Joe, Cipriano, and the Lancer men had moved closer to the edge of camp with Vasquez. 

Johnny put his hat on and pulled it down to cover his eyes.  He tried to straighten up and inhaled when pain shot through his back.

“Johnny?” Scott started to reach out to his brother.  “Are you sure you can do this?”

“Yeah, I can do it.”

Johnny took a deep breath and bit his lower lip before nodding his head. He began walking toward Vasquez. 

With Scott on one side of him and Val and Slade on the other, Johnny’s steps were slow and even, with his right hand was resting against his colt.  The only sound anyone heard was his spurs jingling. 

Vasquez looked up to see Madrid approaching.  He could understand why so many of his people held him in high esteem.   The boy, no, the man who walked toward him, struck an imposing sight.  He was amazed that the young man was still on his feet, let alone walking without help.

Murdoch watched as his son approached.  He smiled when Johnny’s eyes locked with his for a few moments. 

Johnny stopped just short of Vasquez, noting the Colonel had brought two men with him.

“Colonel, didn’t expect to see you again.” 

Johnny’s eyes fell on the man next to Vasquez.  The sight of Ramirez sent waves of fury through him.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Johnny nodded toward Ramirez, tightening his hand on the butt of the Colt.   He could still feel the man’s hands on his arms, holding him up for each punch Sanchez had thrown. 

Ramirez stepped forward.  “The men who rode out to find you with Sanchez?”

“What about them?” Johnny glared at the man. 

“One of the men was my uncle,” Ramirez lowered his head, not being able to meet Madrid’s eyes.

“Your uncle’s dead,” Johnny replied without emotion. 

“Lo Siento, Senor…,” Ramirez started to say.  He looked into Johnny’s cold eyes for the first time.

“Sorry don’t even come close to it, you bastard,” Johnny hissed.  “How many men did you and your uncle hold down so Sanchez could beat and whip them to within an inch of their lives.”  The hate Johnny felt for this man traveled to his voice.  “You need to get out of my sight before you join your uncle.”

Ramirez took several steps back, turned, and quickly walked away.

“Is that all, Colonel?” Johnny’s eyes moved to the Colonel’s face, “Is that why you’re here?  To see how I would react to that bastard?” 

“I have come to warn you, Senor,” Vasquez looked into Johnny’s eyes.  “My superiors are very, very angry with both of us.”

Vasquez had spent the afternoon communicating with his superiors.

Johnny reached inside himself to calm down.  “Figured they wouldn’t be happy with me, Colonel.  Not so sure why they aren’t happy with you.”

“They are angry with me because I let you cross the border.  They are angrier with you because you did cross the border,” Vasquez answered.  

“Sorry to disappoint them,” Johnny’s eyes now boring into the man.

“Lo Siento, Senor, you do not understand.  My superiors have placed a reward for your return to Mexico.”

“Dead or alive, I presume?”  

“No, Senor.  The reward is only to be paid if you are alive.” Vasquez glanced toward the encampment and then at the men standing around him.  “You are not safe here, nor anywhere near the border.  Once word of the reward is made official, every bandito in Mexico will come for you.  Your friends on the ranches along the border will not be safe if you are here.   You must move as far north as you can, as soon as you can.”

“All that so they can just put me in front of a firing squad again?” Johnny lifted his head to look at Vasquez’s eyes.

Vasquez paused as those icy blue eyes bored into him.  He shrugged.  “Lo Siento, senor, I only know that you will be executed at some point.”

“Damn, Colonel, I figured that out for myself,” Johnny laughed.

Vasquez didn’t want to say the method of his death had yet to be determined; however, the boy had the right to know.

“My superiors have pointed out to me that there are many ways to die, Senor Madrid.  Some… more pleasant than others.”

Johnny nodded his understanding.  He’d witnessed many times how unpleasant death could be at the hands of the Rurales.  At that moment, he felt like someone had punched him in the stomach again.  Forcing down the bile that was rising in his throat, he took a few short breaths trying to control his stomach and the shaking that threatened to overtake his body.

Johnny was starting to feel dizzy as visions of resting for the next four weeks in a soft bed at Rancho Worthington evaporated.  He didn’t have four weeks to rest; he doubted he had four days.

“Why, Colonel?” Johnny asked. “Why warn me?”

“Because my village was one of those you helped, Senor Madrid.  My family owes you a debt,” Vasquez replied.

“Your family’s debt has been paid, Colonel.  Gracias,” Johnny said.  Johnny glanced at Val.

“Val, we’re moving out in the morning.  We’ll go north to Tucson and then west to California.”   

Joe moved forward, careful not to touch Johnny. “Johnny, you need to rest.”

“No, Joe, the Colonel’s right.  None of the ranchers are safe with me here.  I need to get as far away from you as soon as I can.  I’ll rest when I get to California.” Johnny half turned.

“Thank you, Colonel.” Johnny looked past the Colonel toward the border and Mexico.  “What about you?  You gonna head north, too?”

“Si,” Vasquez replied.  “Like you, I think it would be healthier for me north of the border.”

Johnny turned to walk back to the tent.

“Slade, can you make sure the Colonel has safe conduct back across the border if he wants to go?” Johnny called over his shoulder, not waiting for a response from Slade. 

Once again, the only sound was the jingling of spurs as Johnny walked back towards the doctor’s tent.  His stomach was churning.  He stood in front of the tent and then quickly stepped past it, stopping when he was behind the tent and out of sight of everyone.  He dropped to his knees and threw up.

“Dios mio,” he said before lowering his head to his chest.   He took one breath before crumpling sideways to the ground.   Closing his eyes, Johnny welcomed the darkness.

---

“Good morning,” Scott’s smiling face came into focus, “thought you were never going to wake up.”

Johnny blinked, turned his head, and looked around.  Forcing himself to think, Johnny tried to remember where he was. 

The events of the day before suddenly rushed back and overwhelmed him.  He jerked up into a sitting position only to find Scott’s hands on his shoulders.

“What time is it?” Johnny coughed.  He leaned forward into Scott’s arms and rested his head on his brother’s chest.

“Take it easy, little brother,” Scott held him firmly.

“What time…?” Johnny coughed again.

“Around 10:00,” Scott answered. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?  We need to get moving.” Johnny raised his head off of Scott’s chest.

“Johnny, you needed rest.  Murdoch and Joe are getting things ready for us to move on, but it won’t be until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Johnny gasped.  “No.  No, Scott, we need to go today.  Get me my clothes.  I need to talk to them.”

“Johnny…,” Scott started to say.

“My clothes, Scott, please,” Johnny started struggling, throwing his legs over the side of the cot.

“Alright, I’ll get your clothes.  Just stay where you are.”

 Scott let him go and moved across the tent to retrieve Johnny’s pants and shirt.

Scott helped him dress and put on his boots.  Johnny got to his feet.  His legs felt like there were going to buckle at any time.  He leaned on his brother and looked around. 

“My rig?”

Johnny took the gun belt from Scott, buckled it, and then pulled it tighter.  It still wasn’t as tight as he would have liked.

Scott supported his brother as they walked toward the tent entrance.  When Scott opened the tent flap bright sunlight flooded in.  Stepping out into the light, Johnny shaded his eyes against the glare.   The air was cooler outside the tent, and he took a deep breath.

Johnny looked around.   There were still a lot of people in the camp. However, he noted that there weren’t as many as the day before.  He assumed many of the ranchers had returned to their homes, and most of the gunhawks had moved on.

He saw Val talking to Jack Slade.  He was surprised to see Slade was still there.  Several of the gunfighters were looking at him.  Jess Bonner yelled at Val and pointed toward Johnny.

Val spun around to see Johnny and Scott heading his way. 

“What in ‘tarnation are you doing up?  You should be in bed,” Val growled. 

“Scott says we aren’t leaving until tomorrow.  We need to leave today.”

“Your Pa and Joe are working things out,” Val answered.  “They’re getting supplies together, and Joe’s giving us a wagon to use.”

“A wagon?” Johnny looked confused.  “Whata’ we need a wagon for?”

“It’s gonna be a long trip back, Johnny. We aren’t gonna be able to go as fast heading back as we did when we rode here,” Val answered, trying to keep his voice calm.  He could see Madrid rising to the surface on his friend’s face. “We’re gonna need more supplies than we can carry in our saddlebags.   Besides, you’re gonna need a place to lay down.”

Johnny’s face froze. “No way, I’m riding in a wagon,” he spat the words out.

“We can take a stage back.”

“No, we can’t.  The ride would be too rough for you and before you ask, we can’t ride back. Murdoch’s back can’t take another three weeks in a saddle,” Scott spoke up.  “He’ll be riding in the wagon, too.”

Johnny lowered his head and rubbed his hand across his mouth and chin.  

“Alright, so we need a wagon,” Johnny conceded, letting out a breath.  “We still need to go today.  I don’t like being this close to the border.”

“Johnny, a lot of the gunhawks have stayed around,” Val spoke up.  “They’re keeping an eye out for trouble.  Why don’t you go on back and lay down?”

“Where’s Murdoch?” Johnny ignored Val’s suggestion.  

“Over with Joe and Molly.” Val pointed across the camp.

Johnny’s eyes scanned the other side of the camp.  He saw Murdoch leaning on a wagon, talking with Joe.  Molly was sitting on a stool nearby.  Johnny started walking toward them.  Scott, Val, and Slade followed.

“Joe, I appreciate the wagon and supplies,” Murdoch was saying.  I’ll be paying you for them.  I’ll wire the money to you as soon as we get home.”

“Murdoch, you don’t owe me anything.  I could never repay you for what you and your family have done for Molly and me.   Not to mention what you have done for our son, Joshua.  He wrote to us that you had given him the position as Reverend at the church in Green River.  I only wish …” Joe cut his answer off when he saw Johnny walking toward them. 

Joe turned to look at Johnny.  He could tell the young man was angry.

Molly also watched as Johnny approached.

“Johnny, you shouldn’t be up.  I was making some broth for you,” she smiled.  

“Molly,” Johnny nodded at her.  “I need to talk to Murdoch and Joe for a minute.  I would really like some of that broth when it’s ready.”

“Son,” Murdoch turned to face Johnny, recognizing the look on the young man’s face.  He’d seen it many times.  Johnny was not happy.

“Murdoch,” Johnny’s eyes met his fathers, “we need to go today. No, we need to go now.”

Murdoch could almost see his son’s eyes pleading with him.  There was something else in his eyes.  Something he didn’t think he would ever see; fear. 

“John, we just need this one day,” Murdoch’s voice was low and soft.  Scott and Val had moved to stand beside him.

Johnny took a quick, deep breath.  He wanted to scream that there was no time for this one day. He looked at Scott and then at Val.  These were the only three people in the world he trusted with his life.

“One day?” he said in almost a whisper.

Murdoch nodded and held up one finger. “Just this one day.” 

Johnny turned and walked back to the tent.  It was going to be one very long day for him.

---

Johnny reluctantly went back to the tent and collapsed on the cot.  He took off his gun belt but had kept his clothes and boots on.   Closing his eyes, he tried to fight the overwhelming pain in his back and stomach.  He wished he could sleep, but it was just too hot inside the tent.

It was mid-afternoon when Johnny heard raised voices outside the tent.  Val was shouting orders, and Slade was cursing.  He pushed himself up to the side of the cot and started to stand when Scott ran in.

“What’s going on?”

“Vasquez is dead,” Scott blurted out.  “Vasquez went back across the border last night.  He didn’t come back.  The new garrison commander came in this morning.  We heard shots about ten minutes ago.  They put Vasquez in front of a firing squad.”

Johnny bent over and put his head in his hands.  Images of a different firing squad rushed toward him.  The same feeling he’d experienced not so many months ago sent a shudder through him.

He remembered Vasquez’s word from the night before, “My superiors have pointed out to me that there are many ways to die, Senor Madrid.  Some more pleasant than others.”   

Johnny figured Vasquez got off a whole lot easier than the death they had planned for him.

“I heard Val and Slade.  What are they doing?” Johnny managed to ask.

“Setting up additional guards around the camp,” Scott said, wishing they had listened to Johnny and moved further north today.

Knowing there was nothing he could do, Johnny started to lay back down.   “Scott, it’s hot as hell in here.  Can you leave that tent flap open, and would you ask Molly if that broth is ready?   Maybe she has some bread or crackers, too.”

Scott nodded, “I’ll see what I can do.”   Scott walked out of the tent and tied back the flap.

A slight breeze caused the air to stir in the tent.  It was like the temperature inside had suddenly dropped.

Johnny laid back down.   He had almost nodded off when he heard the noise of someone entering the tent.  At first, he thought it was Molly.  As he struggled to sit up, he saw two men dressed as vaqueros, standing near the tent entrance.   One of them closed the tent flap.

Johnny reached for his gun.

One of the men knocked the gun from his hand while the other man reached under his left arm and lifted him from the cot.

Johnny fought against the man’s hold on him as the first man grabbed his free arm and dragged him to his feet.   He looked at the man.  It was Ramirez.  

“Mestizo, we meet again,” Ramirez grinned.  “You may have escaped my uncle and Sanchez, but you will not escape me.  You are going back to Mexico.”

“The hell I am,” Johnny hissed.            

“Yes, mestizo,” Ramirez smirked, “hell is exactly where you are going.”

Johnny struggled to break free of the hold they had on him.  Ramirez backhanded him across the face.  Johnny’s head popped back.

“You’ll never get me out of camp, Ramirez,” Johnny said, trying to clear his vision.

“I have many men with me, mestizo.  We will get you out and if anyone tries to stop us, they will die,” Ramirez answered with a grin on his face.

The tent flap opened again.

Johnny groaned.  As if things couldn’t have been bad enough, Molly chose that moment to bring the broth Johnny wanted. 

Molly stepped into the tent and realized what was happening.  She tried stepping back out when a third man came in behind her and pushed her to stand in front of Johnny.

Ramirez pointed a gun at Molly and smiled.   “So, now I think you will come with us.  No?”

Johnny nodded, “I’ll come, just don’t hurt her.”

---

Once they heard of Vasquez’s execution, Val and Slade set about placing additional guards around the camp.  The Worthington vaqueros had moved to watch Joe and Molly.  Cipriano and the men from Lancer moved closer to Murdoch. There were suddenly a lot of men walking through the camp.

Scott went to tell Molly that Johnny was ready for something to eat.

“It’s ready, Scott,” Molly answered with a smile.  “I’ll take him some right now.” 

Scott watched as Molly took a cup of broth and some bread to his brother.  Frowning, he noted the tent flap was down again.   He’d just started toward the tent when he saw Molly lift the tent flap and step in.  A second later, a vaquero went in after her.  He then saw two more vaqueros move to stand outside the tent entrance.

Scott walked over to Val.  “Val, something’s wrong,” he said, keeping his eyes on the tent.

“What’re you talking about?” Val drawled.   

“Did either you or Slade post any vaqueros around Johnny’s tent?” Scott asked, knowing the answer.

“No,” Val answered, looking toward the tent.  The sight of two unknown men standing outside the tent made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.   Val called over the nearest gunfighter.

“Stewart, go find Slade.  We got a problem.  You might want to let the others know, too.”  

Stewart followed Val’s gaze toward the tent.  He quickly walked off to find Slade and then started to alert the camp of gunfighters.

Val put a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Go get your Pa.”

Scott turned to find Murdoch and Joe as Slade walked up. “What’s the problem, Crawford.”

“Did you put any men to guard Johnny’s tent?” Val nodded toward the tent.

“No, I didn’t.”  Slade took in the scene with one glance, and his hand slipped to the butt of his gun. “And if I did, they wouldn’t be vaqueros.  I would’ve had gunhawks guarding him.”

Slade looked around the camp and motioned for a few men to move toward him. 

Joe, Scott, and Murdoch moved over to stand next to Val and Slade.

“Joe, you recognize those vaqueros?” Val asked, nodding toward the tent.

“Those aren’t my men. What’s going on?”

“Not sure yet,” Val replied.  “Scott, is Johnny alone in there?”

“No.” Scott looked at Joe. “Molly went in a little while ago.”

Joe started to move toward the tent, and Val grabbed his arm.

“Hold up, Joe.  We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet.  Let’s give it some time.”

“How did they get into camp?” Murdoch asked.

“They must have come in before we heard about Vasquez,” Scott provided the answer.

“Wonder how many of them there are?” Slade was making a mental note of the number of vaqueros he was seeing.

“I just saw the one that went in behind Molly,” Scott responded.

“There are two outside the tent and,” Slade looked around, “there are three more. We don’t know how many were inside already.”

Slade turned around and spoke softly to the men nearest him.  “Some of you make your way around behind the tent.  Take one of Worthington’s vaqueros with you so you can make sure whoever you find is not one of his men.”

Several gunfighters broke off and started to circle the tent. 

Slade relaxed his stance.  “Now, we just wait.”     

---

Molly was near tears as they pushed her to stand next to Johnny.

“It’s alright, Molly.  Just do what they say. They won’t hurt you,” Johnny said in almost a whisper.  “It’s me they want.”

Johnny knew his legs weren’t going to hold him up much longer.  He tried to sit down but was pulled back to his feet.   He closed his eyes and tried to draw on his inner strength.  

“We are going outside now,” Ramirez ordered.  “You will walk in front of me.  If you do anything to call attention to us, I will shoot the woman, and then I will shoot you.  I have men throughout the camp.  Many will die today if you do not do as I say.”

Ramirez pushed Johnny’s hat into his stomach.  “Put it on, pistolero,” he hissed. 

Flipping the tent flap up, Ramirez motioned for Johnny and Molly to walk out.

“They’re coming out,” Val announced in almost a whisper, watching the tent flap open.

Molly took one of Johnny’s arms and held him close to her as they started walking.  Ramirez pressed a gun into Johnny’s back while one of his other men pointed a gun at Molly’s.

Johnny took a few steps outside the tent and stumbled.  Ramirez pressed the gun deeper in his back, sending a wave of pain through him. “Do not do something stupid, mestizo.  You will both die before my men and me.” 

Johnny realized that Ramirez’s men had surrounded him as he started to walk.  When he suddenly stopped walking, Ramirez ran into his back.    

“Move,” Ramirez hissed.

Looking around the too quiet camp, Johnny smiled. “Ramirez, you may want to take a look around. I don’t think we’re going anywhere.”

Ramirez followed Johnny’s eyes.  He could see for himself that every man in camp had a gun drawn and pointed at him and his men.  

Lifting the barrel of his revolver, Ramirez placed the cold steel against the back of Johnny’s head.  Then wrapping an arm around his prisoner’s chest, he pulled Johnny loser to him.

The man behind Molly did the same to her.

“You will put your guns down and let us pass,” Ramirez yelled.  “If you do not, we will kill the woman first and then Madrid.”

Val took a deep breath.

“You hurt either one of them, and you’re dead men,” Val declared.  “Besides, you kill Madrid, and you can’t collect on that reward.”

“I am not interested in the reward, gringo,” Ramirez bitter words rang out.  “This is a family matter.  The mestizo killed my uncle.”

“Slade?” Johnny yelled. 

Ramirez tapped the side of Johnny’s head with the barrel of the gun, causing the young gunfighter to flinch and drop his head.

Murdoch was watching his son.  He, himself, flinched when Ramirez hit Johnny’s head.

“Yeah, Madrid,” Slade answered, watching Madrid take the hit to the head.

“You got a clean shot on Ramirez here?  Scott, get a clean shot on the man behind Molly?”  Johnny drawled.  “If you can, you take it.  Everyone else pick your target and let loose when you see the chance.”

Ramirez hissed, “Quiet, mestizo.”  He hit the middle of Johnny’s back twice with a closed fist.  He knew where Sanchez had placed the lashes and he also knew they would not be healed.

Johnny let out a sharp grunt, and his knees buckled.  He could feel the blood flowing down his back again.   Ramirez grabbed one of his arms and pulled him back to his feet, pointing his gun at Johnny’s head again. 

“We got our targets, Madrid,” Slade shouted.  “You give the word and we’ll take the shot.”

Johnny knew he wasn’t going to be able to stand much longer. Whatever was going to happen, needed to happen soon.  He glanced at Molly seeing tears in her eyes. “Molly, do you trust me?”

Molly looked at Johnny and then back toward Joe.  “Yes,” she whispered.

“Molly, get down.  Get down now.”

Johnny suddenly pulled away from Ramirez and lunged for Molly. 

Johnny heard Ramirez curse as he lost the grip on his arm.  Johnny threw his whole body toward Molly. A flurry of shots rang out as he crumpled to the ground on top of her. 

Ramirez screamed, “Kill the mestizo.”  He aimed his pistol at Johnny’s back, just as a bullet from Slade’s gun hit him in the chest.  He fell forward, landing on top of Johnny and Molly.  His last thoughts were of his regret in not killing the mestizo.

Johnny felt the Ramirez’s body slam into him and the man’s last breath on his neck.  Ramirez’s blood poured from the hole in his chest and spread across Johnny’s back. 

Johnny could hear Molly sobbing under him.

“It’ll be alright, Molly.  It’s over,” he whispered to her.

His arms suddenly felt like lead weights.  The pressure of Ramirez on his back sent a wave of pain through him.  He closed his eyes and sank into darkness.

---

Scott had his rifle in his hand when he heard Johnny call to him.  He took a knee and aimed at the head of the man behind Molly.  Slade pointed his gun at Ramirez. 

Scott wanted to be the one to take out Ramirez, but it was Slade, not him, Johnny asked to do it.  Scott realized that he was trusting Slade with his brother’s life.

It was over within seconds.  Scott saw Johnny lunging at Molly and cover her with his body.  He realized Ramirez was aiming at Johnny’s back.  He took his shot at the man who had stood behind Molly at the same time he saw smoke coming from the barrel of Ramirez’s gun.

He watched Ramirez fall forward, landing on top of Johnny and Molly.  The rest of Ramirez’s men fell just as quickly.

Everyone seemed to have frozen in place as the sounds of gunfire faded.  The smell of sulfur filled the air, and a gray, smoky haze settled near the ground around them.

Val was the first to move toward Johnny and Molly.  He went to his knees next to the still forms.  Scott, Murdoch, and Joe were beside him in seconds as he pulled Ramirez off of Johnny.  Slade and the other gunfighters moved closer to watch.

The only sound in the now smoke-filled air was Molly’s sobbing.

Murdoch gasped at the sight of Johnny’s blood-soaked back. 

Val reached down and lifted his friend’s shoulders.  His hands were shaking as he gently rolled Johnny off the woman.

Molly crawled on all fours until she was clear of Johnny and then flew into Joe’s arms.  She buried her head into her husband’s chest and looked back down at the man who’d saved her.

“He’s alive,” Molly sobbed. “I could feel his breath on my cheek.”

“Johnny?”  Scott knelt and put a hand on the side of his brother’s face.  “Joe, send someone for the doctor.”

“Pedro, go for Doctor Lawson,” Joe called over his shoulder.

Johnny’s dark lashes fluttered open.  He gave a weak smile to Val and Scott then looked past them to his father.

“Told you, old man, we needed to get moving today.”

Johnny’s eyes rolled back in his head and he was out again.

“Move him to the tent,” Murdoch’s voice broke the silence. 

As Juan, Walt, and Frank carry Johnny away, Murdoch took a deep breath and shook his head.  Looking around, he quickly made up his mind. Standing to his full height, the determined father walked over to Jack Slade.

“Mr. Slade, could I talk to you a minute?”  Not waiting for an answer, Murdoch turned to look at the other men close to him.  “Cipriano, want you, Val and Scott to come also.”

Murdoch felt compelled to move closer to the tent where his youngest son lay hurt and unconscious.  Slade and the others followed him.

Murdoch slowly turned and looked at Slade, studying him closely before saying, “Mr. Slade, I want to hire you.”

TBC in The Long Road Home

November 2018/ revised August 2020

Notes:

1. My Jack Slade is fictitious.  The real Jack Slade died in 1864 after being lynched by local vigilantes for disturbing the peace after a drunken spree.

2. Per Wikipedia: Fort Tyson was a privately-owned fort built in 1856 by Charles Tyson in the area, which is now called Quartzsite, Arizona.  He built the fort to protect the local miners and water supply from the raids of the Yavapai (Mohave-Apache), a Native-American tribe. The area in which Fort Tyson was located was also called Tyson’s Well.  Currently, the town of Quartzsite, named because of the large amount of quartz found in its surrounding areas, sits on the site.

3. In 1864, Charles Tyson dug a well, which according to the Quartzsite Historical Society, was dug by hand. Today there is a historical marker on the spot where the well was supposedly dug. Tyson then built a stage station in 1866, which originally served the stagecoaches that traveled from the towns of Ehrenberg and Prescott.  Tyson’s Well Stage Station became a busy stagecoach station since it was located on the famous Butterfield Overland Mail route between Prescott, Arizona and Riverside, California.

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