Charlene and SandySha: The Dark Watchers

Word Count 4,715

For our story, we’ve moved the ranch a little to the West of what is considered canon.

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‘No one knows where they come from or why they are here, but for centuries, Los Vigilantes Oscuros have stood as sentinels in the swirling mist of the Santa Lucia Mountains.  

Silhouetted against the darkening twilight sky, the Dark Watchers silently watch… and wait.’

---

Johnny topped a rise and reined Barranca to a stop.  Pushing up in the stirrups, he stretched and looked out over the herd being moved to the mountain pastures.   It had been a hot summer, and Lancer’s once lush green grass had dried a golden brown in the August heat.   By tomorrow, out of necessity, they would have over three thousand head of beef settled in their new home.  The cattle would stay there until winter set in before moving them back to the valley floor.  

The sun was starting to set, giving off a warm haze, and the world seemed to glow amber in the fire of the sunset.  

Turning in his saddle, Johnny shaded his eyes and watched Scott circling the herd, heading his way.  

Stopping beside his brother, Scott took his hat off and wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve.  “Are you ready to head home?”

“More than ready,” Johnny nodded.  “I just need to talk to Cipriano and make sure he’s got a crew set up to watch the herd tonight.”

“I noticed a few strays over on the right.  I’ll get them headed this way and meet you…”

“What’s wrong?” Johnny looked in the direction Scott was looking.

“I wonder what that’s all about?” Scott pointed to where Cipriano and Isidro were standing.  Isidro was animated, his hands flailing as he spoke.

“Not sure, but Isidro sure is fired up over something.”

He pushed Barranca into a gentle lope and headed toward the vaqueros with Scott close behind.  As they got closer, Johnny could see Isidro pointing toward the eastern peaks of the Santa Lucia mountains.  Then, both men crossed themselves.

Johnny smiled.  He’d grown up amongst the people of Mexico, his people – at least partly – and was familiar with their religion and superstitions.  He knew something was setting off the older men.  

“What’s got you two so spooked?”

 Isidro crossed himself again as Scott pulled up beside his brother. “Los Vigilantes Oscuros.”

“Que?”

“Es Los Vigilantes Oscuros.”

Scott cocked his head.  “What did he say?”

Johnny shook his head.  “Something about The Dark Watchers?”

“The who?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Johnny turned to his Tio.  “Just who are these dark watchers?”

Cipriano pointed to the foothills.  “The giants of the Santa Lucias.  They have been there always, even before Spain claimed this land as theirs.   When you see them, Juanito, you must not stare.  You must turn away.”

“And do not go looking for them, or you may disappear forever,” Isidro added seriously.  “It is said they seek lost souls.”

“Trust me, Isidro,” Scott laughed, “if they take my little brother, they’ll give him back.”

“Hey!” Johnny groused.

“Señor Scott, do not give offense to the Watchers,” Cipriano chided.   

Scott looked at his brother and then back at the men questioningly.  Johnny nodded, knowing better than to disrespect the superstitions of the older men.  “We won’t.  Now, before we give offense to our Ol’ Man, we better get the crew back to the hacienda.”

Cipriano and Isidro wasted no time reining their horses around and heading home.

Scott questioned his brother.  “You believe what they said?”

Johnny hesitated.  “I don’t know, but I do know there is folklore and superstitions among my people….”   He looked at the mountains again.  “Scott, all I know is there are things we don’t understand and can’t explain, but they do.  Maybe Murdoch knows more about Los Vigilantes Oscuros.”

“Alright, but you’re right.  We’d better get home.”   Scott moved off to the east, leading the vaqueros.

 Johnny started to follow but saw an errant calf and spurred Barranca toward it.  He circled the calf and expertly moved her back to the herd.  Smiling as the calf reunited with its mother, Johnny looked one last time at the Santa Lucias.  

The smile fell from his face as he saw a dark silhouette near the mountain’s edge.  It seemed to be a tall man, a very tall man, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a long dark cape.  The man appeared to be holding a tall walking stick.  As Johnny stared, the eyes of the dark figure caught the failing light and seemed to glow.

Behind him, a bleating noise broke the spell.  Johnny turned toward the calf, now suckling the cow.  When he looked back towards the mountain, the figure was gone.  Turning Barranca, Johnny spurred the golden horse into a gallop to catch up with his brother.

---

“Teresa, that was the best chocolate cake I ever ate.”

Teresa laughed.  “You say that every time I make chocolate cake.”

“You get better each time.  Try to get better again tomorrow,” Johnny replied with a grin.

Teresa shook her head at her incorrigible brother as Murdoch and Scott laughed.  Murdoch then cleared his throat.  “Teresa darling, you are getting a baking reprieve.  The boys are leaving in the morning for San Francisco.”

“We are?” Scott enquired.

Murdoch stood and crossed the great room to his desk.  “Yes.”  He picked up a sheet of paper and returned to the table, handing it to Scott.  “I received a telegram from Joe Morton at the Cattleman’s Bank.  The Grass Valley Mining Company shareholders will meet at the end of the week.”

Scott read the telegram and handed it across the table to Johnny.  “I take it we have investments in the company?”

“We do.” Murdoch nodded.  “Lancer owns thirty percent of the company.  Sam Hummell owns forty.  He wants to use hydraulic mining.  I don’t.  I’m trusting the two of you to convince the remaining shareholders to vote our way.”

“Aww Murdoch, I don’t need ta go,” Johnny groused and tossed the telegram onto the table.  “Scott’s better at these paper things than me.  He can handle this on his own.  Besides, you can’t spare both of us at the same time.”

“You’re going.” Murdoch walked back to his desk and sat, giving his youngest a look both sons had come to know well, as ‘the matter isn’t open for discussion.’  “You’ll never learn how to do these ‘paper things’ if you don’t go.  Now, you can go with Scott or with me.  Take your choice.”

Knowing an argument was in the making, Scott pushed back from the table.  “Drink?” He walked to the drink tray, with Johnny following behind.  He poured three glasses and carried one to Murdoch.

“Thank you, Scott.” Murdoch accepted the glass and sat it on the desk.

“Johnny and I will do our best, and I’ll be glad to show him some Garrett finesse in handling a bunch of board members.”

Murdoch ignored the comment and pulled open the right-hand drawer of his desk a little harder than necessary.  “There’s one more thing.”  He withdrew a thick package and slapped it on the desk.  “I also need you boys to detour to Monterey on your way home—.”

“Monterey—” Johnny started and was stopped when Murdoch raised a hand. 

Scott gave his brother a quick shake of his head, already figuring out that any protests were futile.

“Let me finish,” Murdoch snapped.  “As I was saying, I want you to detour to Monterey and deliver these contracts to Antonio Parra.”

Scott stepped forward and picked up the package.  “Parra?  Isn’t he with the Monterey & Salinas Valley Railroad?”

“He is,” Murdoch nodded.  “We’ve been writing back and forth about routing a spur our way.   Having that spur closer to the ranch would save us time and money.”

Scott nodded before handing his brother a double shot of Murdoch’s best whiskey.  “I’m not looking forward to this trip, but…” he winked at Johnny, “we might have time for some fun.”

Murdoch cleared his throat. 

Scott laughed.  “Don’t worry, Murdoch.  We’ll be sure to take care of business before pleasure.  I assume you want us to catch the train from Cross Creek in the morning.”

“No, Scott.  I think it best you ride.”

“Ride?  That’s a long way to go by horseback.”

“It is, but you’ll need horses with your trip to Monterey.”

Johnny smiled.  “I don’t mind riding.”

Scott rolled his eyes.  “I know you won’t mind.  It’s my rear end I’m thinking of.”

“Yeah, but look at it this way, Boston.  We’ll be gone for at least two weeks.  We’ll miss out on stringing wire on that section up North.”

Scott laughed.  “Well, there is that.”

“Now that’s settled.  I think I’ll call it a night.  You two had better turn in also.  You’ve got a long trip ahead of you.”  Murdoch went to the bookcase and picked out a book.  “Good night, boys.”

As Murdoch started for the stairs, Johnny sat by the fireplace in the brown leather chair and looked at the amber liquid.  It looked so like the color of the mountains this afternoon as his mind went back to the mysterious shadowy figure that seemed to be walking the ridge.  

Scott seemed to have read his brother’s mind.  “Sir, before you go, can I…we,” Scott looked at Johnny, “ask you something?”

Murdoch stopped and looked back.  “Of course.”

“Tell us, have you ever heard of the Dark Watchers?”

“Who told you about the Dark Watchers?”

Johnny looked up from the drink in his hands and watched his father. “Cipriano and Isidro—”

“They’re superstitious,” Murdoch grumbled.  He walked back to his desk and looked out the window.  Yet, his eyes went to the mountains, now hidden by darkness.

Scott nodded.  “They certainly are.  What do you know of the legends?”

Murdoch turned to look at his sons.  Seeing the glass of whiskey as if for the first time, he gulped it down in one swallow.  “Legends, myths, whatever you want to call them, go back to the Chumash Indians, through the Spanish and still today.  The Watchers are just that, watchers.”

Johnny laughed softly.  “You mean there’s these men living on the mountain just watching.  Watching what?”

Murdoch shrugged.  “Travelers … anyone, everyone.  They certainly aren’t … men … if they even exist.”

“Genius loci,” Scott said as he moved to sink onto the sofa.

“Now, what’s that mean?” Johnny asked.

“Spirit of the place,” Scott answered.  “Have you ever seen them, Murdoch?”

“Everyone sees shadows in the twilight, Scott.”  His eyes met Johnny’s.  “Don’t go looking for them.”

---

One hundred and forty miles.  That’s what Murdoch said.  The Santa Lucia Mountains, protecting the central valley from ocean storms, stretched one hundred and forty miles along the central California coast from Monterey County to San Luis Obispo.  Murdoch said to take the Ocean Road and that the view of the Pacific was breathtaking.   That’s what he’d said, and that was why Scott and Johnny Lancer now followed the trail, weaving their way through coastal redwoods, Douglas fir, ponderosa pine, and Pacific madrone.

The business trip to San Francisco had gone well.  The meeting of the Grass Valley Mining Company shareholders was a success, at least for the Lancers.  The vote was close, but in the end, it was determined there would be no use of hydraulic mining.  Once the meeting ended, Scott wasted no time wiring Murdoch of the outcome.   With their last official act of ranch business concluded, at least for now, the boys enjoyed what San Francisco had to offer.   After three days in the busy city, they were both ready for some peace and quiet.  Picking up the Ocean Road, they headed south toward Monterey with the Pacific on their right.

They’d left the big city and its noise behind two days ago.  That morning, they handed Murdoch’s contracts to Antonio Parra in Monterey and started for home across the northern tip of the Santa Lucia’s.  The trail took them high into the wilderness, where the trees whispered secrets to the wind, and the mountains seemed to cradle the world.

By early afternoon, a light fog rolled across the ground.   The two riders pulled their coats closer around their necks and continued on.

It wasn’t until a chilling wind blew in from the ocean that Scott pulled back on the reins and looked around.  “I say we set up camp here.” 

Johnny didn’t need to be persuaded.  There was only about an hour of sunlight left in the day, and he was chilled and ready to get out of the saddle.  “Yeah, sure.” Swinging from the saddle, he walked Barranca to a copse of trees, made a quick rope line, and untacked his horse.  “I’ll gather some firewood if you …” Johnny felt the hairs on his neck standing up.  His right hand moved to cradle the butt of his gun.  Turning, his blue eyes scanned the forest.

Scott tied the knot of Remmie’s reins to the rope line.  Patting his horse’s neck, he looked at his brother.  “What?”

Johnny shook his head.  “I dunno, I just … you ever feel like someone’s just … watching ya?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s how I feel.”

Scott moved shoulder to shoulder with Johnny and looked around.  “You’re not alone.  That’s how I feel too.  Well, let them watch.” He put his bedroll and then Johnny’s under his arm and stalked to the middle of the clearing.  “Get the firewood.  I’ll start making the camp.”

---

Johnny leaned back against his saddle, his tin cup of coffee held loosely in his left hand.  “I’ll be glad to get back home.”

Scott smiled at his brother’s use of the word home.  There was a time not so long ago when he worried Johnny would find his place.  He seemed to be a lost soul when he left Lancer with Wes all over a wild horse.  Thankfully, Johnny found his way back to the fold of his family and the home that was Lancer.  “I agree.  Although it was nice to be in civilization again, I do prefer the wilds of the ranch.”

“I’m glad I said no to that opera idea you had.”

“The opera is wonderful and would be something I truly believe you would enjoy.”

“Not if I have to buy a fancy suit and strangle to death just to listen to them holler.”

“Sing.”

“Holler.” Johnny grinned.  He sat forward and reached for the coffeepot.  Pouring a second cup, he watched the tendrils of steam float in the air.  He blew on the hot liquid and looked up toward the mountains.   The sun began its slow descent; the radiant orb of crimson and gold bathed the rugged peaks in a soft, golden glow and shivered.

Scanning the area, he noticed strange silhouettes in the distance.  Draped in long, dark cloaks, towering figures stood like sentinels on the ridge above.  “Hey Scott, look?” he said, jerking his head toward the ridge.

Scott looked and then exchanged a puzzled glance with his brother, unsure what to make of the eerie spectacle.

Johnny spoke up first, “Do you see them?  Those figures up there?”

Scott squinted at the figures and nodded.  “Yes, I see them.”

“I saw them at Lancer too.  That day Cipriano and Isidro said they saw them.”

“The night we talked to Murdoch?”

“Yeah.  You know Scott, Murdoch never did answer us … whether he’d seen the Watchers.”

Scott nodded, his eyes not leaving the strange figures.  “He must have, as long as he’s lived here.”

“That’s what I figure, too.” Johnny sat his cup down and stood adjusting his gun belt.

“What’re you doing?” concern dripped from Scott’s voice.

“I don’t like being watched.”

Scott stood and grabbed his brother’s arm.  “Johnny, don’t!”

“It’s alright.  I’m just going to check them out.”

“You heard what Murdoch said.  You don’t go looking for them.”

Johnny smiled.   “They started it by watching us.  Just want to find out what they want.”

“But…”  It was too late, as Johnny had already started off toward the ridgeline, disappearing into the trees.  “Murdoch said don’t … go looking for them!” Scott sputtered.  

Younger brothers.  He remembered his friends having younger brothers when he was growing up.  How they discussed wanting to strangle them.  He fully understood.  

Scott grabbed his rifle and headed off in the direction Johnny had run.  “Johnny, wait for me.  If you get hurt, little brother, I’m killing you.”

Scott stopped at the edge of the clearing.  There was no sign of his brother.

---

Johnny ventured into the woods alone, his heart pounding like a distant drum echoing through the ancient trees.  The air grew thick and oppressive as he delved deeper into the forest, and the shadows seemed to lengthen, conspiring to shroud his path in obscurity.  As he moved further away from the comforting glow of the campfire, the woods came alive with eerie whispers that seemed to emanate from the very trees themselves.  He couldn’t discern the words, but the voices, like ghostly sighs, wrapped around him like tendrils of fog, sending shivers down his spine.

Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, felt like an ominous presence lurking just beyond his line of sight.  The trees, ancient sentinels with gnarled branches, appeared to twist and contort, their forms resembling spectral figures reaching out for him.

Johnny’s hand stayed on the butt of his Colt as the sunlight faded into twilight.  He could still feel them, the Dark Watchers, spying on him.  “Why don’tcha come out and talk to me?  What’re ya just watching?  I know you’re here.”

The forest floor was a tapestry of gnarled roots and prickling underbrush, making each step treacherous.  The shadows played tricks on his mind, and the whispers grew more insistent as if beckoning him deeper into the heart of this mysterious realm.

Despite the growing unease, Johnny pressed on, determined to uncover the truth about the Dark Watchers.  With each cautious step, the darkness swallowed him further, and the whispers became an indomitable force, urging him to unravel the secrets of the enigmatic figures that haunted the California mountains.

In this foreboding world, Johnny was enveloped by the eerie and unsettling presence of the Dark Watchers, their whispers echoing through the night, creating an atmosphere of spine-tingling fear that clung to him like a shroud of uncertainty.  

“Well,” he said to himself, “I been scared before.  Ain’t stopped me yet.”

Johnny stopped and looked around.  They should be here.  He could feel them, feel their eyes on him, watching every move he made.

“Why won’t you show yourselves?  Are ya scared of me?”

A twig snapped behind him.  He turned, drawing his gun as he did.  A pair of glowing eyes stared back at him, and for the first time in his life, he knew what genuine fear felt like.

---

“Johnny!  Where are you?  Answer me, boy?” Scott stood at the edge of the clearing and sighed.

Where was his brother?  Scott’s heart raced as he realized Johnny had been gone for far too long, and the forest was too quiet.  Panic welled inside him, and he knew he had to find his brother, no matter the cost.  The night had grown darker, and the forest, an impenetrable labyrinth, felt more sinister by the minute.  “Johnny!  Where are you?  Come back!”

He heard something.  Standing still, Scott just listened.  Menacing whispers filtering through the trees seeming to intensify, taunting him, their spectral voices growing louder and more oppressive.  Scott’s mind played tricks on him, and every rustle of leaves or flicker of shadow sent his heart into overdrive.  Fear gnawed at him, not just for Johnny’s safety but for his own as well.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that those shadowy figures were watching him, closing in on him as he called out to his missing brother.

---

Murdoch pushed back from his desk and slowly walked to the French doors.  Pulling them open, he took a few steps outside and inhaled deeply, enjoying the cool night air.

“Would you like some coffee?” Teresa’s question startled him.

Looking back over his shoulder, he shook his head.  “No, sweetheart.  I think I’ll go to bed early.”

“You’ve gone to bed early every night since Scott and Johnny left.  You miss them.  Don’t you?”

Murdoch chuckled.  “I suppose I do.  After so many years without them, it’s surprising how quickly I’ve gotten used to them being here.  I miss their banter and ….”

“And their laughter?” Teresa smiled.  “I miss them too.  It’s just too quiet here without them.”

Murdoch looked back into the night.  The moon was rising, throwing a soft glow across the ranch.  “They should be back any day now.”

“Do you think they’ve left Monterey?”

Murdoch nodded.  “I would think so.”

When Murdoch said nothing else, Teresa stepped outside and put her arm around his waist.  “I’m going to finish in the kitchen and go to bed myself.”

Leaning over, Murdoch placed a kiss on her forehead.  “Good night.”

“Are you coming?”

“In a minute.  I want to enjoy the night air for a while longer.”

Once Murdoch was alone, he walked across the yard to the corral.  Leaning on the top rail, he looked West toward the mountains.  He’d thought long and hard about his conversation with his sons before they left for San Francisco.   He hadn’t answered Scott’s question.  ‘Have you seen them?’  

God, yes, he’d seen them.  He remembered well the first time the Watchers had come to visit.  It was the night he’d sent Catherine away with Paul and four of his best men as an escort.  He’d been standing in this very spot looking towards the mountains.  The sun was setting, and he was ready to turn back to the house when something caught his eye.  One lone figure appeared on the horizon, draped in a long black cloak and holding a walking stick.  The figure’s wide hat blocked the view of his face until suddenly, the Watcher stopped and turned.  His hat shifted, and two glowing eyes stared down on the ranch and into Murdoch’s soul.  

He remembered a shiver shooting up his spine and knew something was wrong.  In the blink of an eye, the figure was gone as quickly as he’d come, leaving a feeling of foreboding.  It wasn’t until three days later, when Paul and the men returned to the ranch, that he knew his feelings weren’t unwarranted.

Since that night, he’d seen the Watchers often and always when something terrible happened. 

Murdoch started to return to the house. He stopped, and his breath caught.  In the distance, two glowing orbs broke through the darkness.  He felt a familiar shiver.  From experience, he knew something was wrong somewhere.

He looked to the heavens and silently prayed his sons would come home soon and safely.     

---

Scott paced back and forth, stopping every few seconds to look in the direction Johnny had gone.  Finally, knowing he’d waited long enough, he picked up his rifle and went in search of his brother.

The undergrowth was a maze of twisted branches and obscured pathways, and with each passing moment, Scott’s desperation grew.  He knew he had to be careful, but the terror of the unknown and the lurking presence of the Dark Watchers made his search all the more frantic.  The darkness seemed to press in around him, suffocating and threatening.  Scott couldn’t shake the feeling that the forest held secrets beyond his comprehension, and the ominous whispers of the Dark Watchers were a constant reminder of the peril he and his brother faced.  If only he could find Johnny and return to the safety of the firelight.

What did they want?  Isidro’s words floated through his mind.  “Do not go looking for them, or you may disappear forever.” He shook his head.  No.  They can’t have Johnny.

Scott’s frantic search led him deeper into the mysterious woods, and as he moved further from the camp, the oppressive atmosphere of the forest seemed to close in around him.  The Watchers remained elusive; their presence palpable but hidden in the shadows.  Desperation and fear etched lines of anguish onto Scott’s face as he realized the gravity of the situation, and he began to plead with the enigmatic spirits that were said to inhabit this eerie wilderness.

“Please,” he implored, his voice shaking.  “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but if you have my brother, please return him to me.”

The Dark Watchers, though unseen, seemed to be all around him, their presence an oppressive weight on his shoulders.  The eerie whispers persisted, now hushed and indistinct, as if debating his plea.  

“Give me my brother back!” Scott’s words echoed through the still night, reverberating in the depths of the ancient forest.  He couldn’t be certain if the Watchers heard his desperate plea, but he clung to the hope that, somehow, they might heed his words and release Johnny from their enigmatic grasp.

In the silence that followed, Scott could only wait, his heart heavy with uncertainty, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign that his plea had been heard.  The forest held its secrets close, and the Dark Watchers remained shrouded in mystery, leaving Scott to grapple with the unknown, his love for his brother the only light in the encroaching darkness.  “Johnny!”

The sun’s light was entirely gone.  Looking towards their camp, he breathed a sigh of relief.  Light from the campfire acted as a beacon in the darkness, giving him a way back.

Scott knew that if he didn’t find Johnny soon, he never would.  Something told him the Watchers were melting into the darkness, disappearing with the sun.  He ran, shouting for his brother, through the tangled branches.  As he ran, he tripped over something and landed on the hard-packed earth.  Pushing up, he felt his hand on an arm.  Johnny.  

“Thank God!  Johnny, are you alright?”  He turned his unconscious brother over, checking him for injuries.  “Come on, brother, you gotta wake up.  Come on, Johnny.”

Johnny stirred and groaned.  His eyes fluttered open.  “Scott.”

“Yeah, little brother, it’s me.  I’d just about given up on you, boy.”

Johnny grinned at the familiar phrase and pushed himself up.  “Let’s get back to camp.”

“John …”

Johnny raised a hand.  “Back at camp.  Let’s go.”

The Lancer brothers turned to leave, both looking over their shoulders at the disappearing figures behind the trees.  Scott gently pushed Johnny in front of him, and they let the smoke and flames from their campfire lead them back into the light.

Once they were back in camp, Scott helped Johnny ease onto his bedroll.  “Alright, now tell me.  What happened?”

“Scott, I met them … the Dark Watchers.  They were there, lurking in the shadows.  They reached out to me, their cold, bony hands pulling at me as if trying to take me with them.”

Scott’s eyes widened in horror as he listened to Johnny’s chilling tale.  “And then what happened?”

“I dunno,” Johnny continued, his voice quavering, “I was fighting then…I heard you calling me… and then they just let me go.  I felt myself falling, and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, and you found me.”

“You heard me calling you?”

“Yes.”

Scott wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulder.  “I knew they’d give you back.”

Johnny looked at Scott and rolled his eyes.  He looked up and pointed.  “Looks like it’s a full moon tonight.  They call that a hunter’s moon.”

“Do they?” Scott replied.

“You think they were hunting us…me?”

“I don’t know, but from now on, we don’t go looking for them.”

Johnny laughed.  “Yeah.  That’s a good idea.”

“Lay down and try to get some sleep.  I want to leave these mountains as soon as possible in the morning.  If we push, we can be home in two days.”

“We gonna tell the Ol’Man about this?”

“I’m not sure.  We’ll talk about it on the way home.”

---

Two long days later, the Lancer boys sat on the hill overlooking the Hacienda.

Johnny stood in his stirrups and stretched.  “It’s good to be home.”

Scott shifted in his saddle.  “I second that.”

“I never get tired of this view,” Johnny added.  He smiled at Scott, who nodded in agreement.  “I wonder what Teresa’s got for dessert?”

Scott laughed.  “I wouldn’t know, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy whatever it is.”

“Yeah.  I’d enjoy it more if it was cake.”

“Chocolate?”

Johnny grinned.  “Yeah!  Let go.  We have a lot to tell the Ol’ Man.”

They rode down the hill and under the arch, whooping as they went.

Murdoch was pounding iron at the forge when he heard them.  He put the hot metal in the water bucket and wiped his hands on his leather apron.  He smiled as he saw them looking no worse for wear since he’d seen them two weeks ago.  The anvil that had sat in the pit of his stomach since seeing the Watcher dissipated.  His sons were home.  His sons were safe.  He sent up a silent prayer of thanks as he crossed the yard.  

By the time they reached the front of the house, Murdoch was there to meet them.

Scott dismounted.  “Murdoch.”

Murdoch smiled.  “Welcome home, Son.”

“It’s good to be home, Sir.”

Murdoch turned to watch Johnny stepping down from Barranca.  “John, it’s good to have you home.”  Murdoch stepped forward, wrapped an arm around each son’s shoulder, and gave them both an affectionate squeeze.  His heart wanted to grab them up like little children into the biggest bear hug, but his head would not let him.  Not now, not yet.

Johnny looked down, surprised at Murdoch’s uncommon show of affection and surprised at the peace it brought to his soul.  “Did ’ya miss us, Murdoch?”

“The house was entirely too quiet.  Now, I want to hear all about the trip,” he said as he led the boys through the front door into the great hall.

“It was… mostly uneventful,” Scott said.

“Mostly?”

“We’ll tell you after we clean up and get something to eat.”

The boys turned left and started up the spiral staircase.  Johnny stopped and looked over his shoulder at his father.  “You were right, Murdoch.  We shouldn’t have gone looking the Watchers.”

---

It was close to midnight when Scott heard a noise in the yard.  Throwing back the covers, he went to the window and looked down.  He didn’t have to guess who was walking toward the corral.  Johnny hadn’t slept well since that night in the mountains.

Pulling on his pants and boots, Scott followed his brother.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Scott eased next to Johnny and leaned against the corral.

“Not worth it.”

“Still thinking about the Watchers?”

“Yeah.  It helped to talk to the Ol’ Man about what happened.”

Murdoch listened to what Scott and Johnny told him about the events in the Santa Lucias.  To their surprise, his only response was that he was happy they were safely home.  He did add, “I hope you’ve learned a lesson.  Don’t go looking for them.”

Scott put a foot on the bottom rail of the corral.  “I wonder how long they’ve been up there?”

Johnny shook his head.  He crossed his arms on the fence rail and rested his chin on his arms as he looked toward the mountains.  “I talked to Cipriano.  He said they’d been there as long as the mountains and would be there as long as they stood.  You remember what Isidro said?”

“About you disappearing forever?  Yes.  I was worried –.”

“No.  About them looking for lost souls.”

Scott smiled.  “I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Yeah?  Well, I sure was.”

Scott draped an arm around his younger brother’s shoulder.  “Johnny, the Watchers can hunt for lost souls all they want, but they won’t find any here.”

“Ya sure?” Johnny asked.

“Very.  Now, let’s go to bed.  Morning comes early …”

“… on a working ranch,” Johnny finished, throwing his arm around his brother’s waist.  Together, they walked toward the hacienda.

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On the ridgeline, under a full moon, a lone figure stood silent, his eyes glowing, watching the brothers enter the safety of their home.  Madrid’s soul was no longer lost.  That’s why they could not make him one of their own.  He was now tethered to the familial ties of Lancer— his brother, father, and all those who are of the land.

Was that enough?  Or would the bond break?  Only time will tell.

So, for now, the Watchers would watch as they always had— and wait… just wait.

End
October 2023

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Author’s Notes:

From several sources:

For centuries, the stuff of local folklore, these shadowy figures are seen amid the swirling coastal fog and long evening shadows of the Santa Lucia Mountains.  Most stories begin with the local native tribes, which allegedly spoke of the shadowy figures in their oral traditions.  When the Spanish arrived in the 1700s, they began calling the apparitions Los Vigilantes Oscuros (literally “the Dark Watchers”).   As Anglo-American settlers began staking claims in the region, they, too, felt the sensation of being watched from the hills.

One of the earliest written records of their presence is in the 1938 John Steinbeck story ‘Flight.’ Described as 10 feet tall and draped in long dark cloaks, with wide-brimmed hats and walking sticks, these entities seem to gaze at the sunset or passing hikers, vanishing upon second glance.  They do not haunt or follow; they simply watch before fading into the mists and dusk.

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