The Other Side of Midnight by SandySha

Word Count 30,561

A Johnny Madrid pre-Lancer story.
Many thanks to my ‘secret weapon,’ Terri Derr, better known as Doc, for her help and direction as my beta.  Also, thanks to Diana Littner (Buckskin) for her suggestions.

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In the mid-1800s, gold and silver were discovered in the Arizona Territory.  Soon, hundreds of prospectors, their families, and business owners streamed in to reap the earth’s treasures.  In the arid desert where only prickly pear, tall saguaros, and broad-leafed chaparral grew, mining camps sprang up and then quickly transformed into bustling towns.

One of those towns was Midnight.  Nestled at the foot of the Rincon Mountains and situated on the main trail between Tucson and Fort Grant, Midnight was in a perfect location.  It was also one of the few places in the desert where water was readily available.  When the rainy season arrived, water cascaded down the mountainsides and found its way into underground basins at the mountain’s base.

Unfortunately, when the mines played out across Arizona, most towns were abandoned. What was left behind was reclaimed by the desert, becoming nothing more than sun-bleached and decaying reminders of what had been. 

Midnight’s mines lasted longer than most.  They produced well for five years, but when the rich veins petered out, the mines closed.   It would have been abandoned as well, except while everyone else was packing up and moving to greener pastures, a handful of people refused to leave what they’d built.

Now, for the most part, those who call Midnight home are older folk trying to eke out a meager living on what little the mines still had to offer.

Most of the buildings were boarded up, and the highlight of Midnight’s week was the Butterfield Overland Stage, which came through every Wednesday, like clockwork, on its way to Las Cruces—not that anyone ever got off or stopped over.  

Midnight had nothing to attract anyone’s attention—nothing at all.

 So, it was a mystery why, one day in July of 1868, a raven-haired boy wearing a fading red shirt and a short bolero jacket rode into town and stayed instead of moving on.

---

Midnight, Arizona Territory
Friday, July 17, 1868

A canvas of billowing white clouds had been building in the east all morning and now stretched from one end of the horizon to the other.  To the north, darker clouds laced with streaks of lightning made it clear the rain had already started.  It wouldn’t be long before the clouds crept down the sides of the mountains and rain reached the thirsty desert floor.

Ahead of the storm came an unsettling wind and, with it, a lone rider.  At the outskirts of town, he stopped and raised his hand to shield his eyes from the blowing sand.  Gazing down, he read the weathered and decaying wooden sign:

Sighing, he lowered his hat over his eyes and kicked his tired horse forward, unsure of what he would find. 

---

Jonas Green, with his face tanned and etched with lines from a life lived in the desert, always boasted with a twinkle in his eye that he was the oldest resident in Midnight. He’d been among the first prospectors who sought to strike it rich when the mines opened back in ‘59.  

However, it hadn’t taken long for Jonas to realize that the real money wasn’t breaking his back in the depths of those dark, demanding holes in the ground but rather in the operation of the town’s only drinking establishment—the Starlite Saloon.   Yes, the Starlight was his, and he’d done real good in the town’s heyday.

Sitting in his favorite straight-back chair next to the saloon’s swinging doors, old Jonas heard the faint sound of horsebeats.   Looking eastward, he strained to see through the shimmering heat of the summer day.  Finally, a stranger on a sleek black horse came into view.  Watching the slow, easy gait of the horse, Jonas wondered who’d come to town. 

When the rider stopped in front of the saloon and dismounted, Jonas leaned forward for a closer look.  He had no idea who the newcomer was, but there was no doubt in his mind what he was.  Jonas had been around and knew a pistolero when he saw one.  He could tell the man was Mexican, not only by his complexion but by the style of his clothes.      

The stranger raised his head and pushed his hat back.  “Howdy.”

Jonas felt a lump form in his throat as he caught sight of the young man’s piercing dark blue eyes.  He’d heard rumors of a notorious half-breed gunfighter with chilling blue eyes, and now he found himself face-to-face with him. With a trembling voice, he managed to muster a feeble “Howdy.”

“The saloon open?” The stranger asked in a soft drawl.

Jonas hesitated a moment before nodding.  “It can be, seeing how I’m the owner.”

Jonas was surprised when the young man smiled, a smile that reached those blue eyes. 

The stranger looked up and down the street.  “Quiet town.  The sign says you only have fifty people living here.  What happened to the rest?”

“Been meaning to change those signs,” Jonas laughed.  “Ain’t but forty-three of us left now.  When the gold played out, the rest moved on, a few at a time.  Yep, real quiet town, and we don’t get many visitors.  You riding through or….”   Jonas let the sentence hang.

“Thought I might stop over for a day or two… if there are any rooms for rent in town.”

Jonas pushed out of his chair and grabbed hold of the support post to steady himself.  “Well, young fellow,” Jonas scratched the graying stubble on his chin. “I got rooms upstairs.  They’re not real fancy, and they haven’t been cleaned in a while, but Amy Sutter across the street there,” Jonas pointed to a building directly across the windswept street, “has the only hotel in town, and she keeps her place a mite cleaner than me.”

The dark-haired stranger turned to look where the old man pointed.  The white two-story building had seen better days, but then, so had all the buildings in town.  The paint-peeled sign over the entryway said ‘Sutter’s Hotel.’

“Thanks.” The young man turned to look at Jonas.  “Is there a livery stable?”

“Sure is.”  Jonas proudly pointed down to the end of the street.  “Alex Stone runs the livery.”  Jonas cocked his head and waited before asking, “You want a drink now, or you want to settle in first?”

When the young man stepped onto the rough cut boards of the walkway and licked his dry lips, Jonas smiled, already knowing the answer.

“I’d really like that drink and maybe something to eat, that is, if you’ve got something.”

Jonas grinned a toothless grin and held out his hand.  “The name’s Jonas Green.”

The stranger looked at the hand for a few seconds, then took it.  “Johnny.”

“Just Johnny?”

The boy licked his lips again before answering.  “Madrid.  Johnny Madrid.”

Jonas met the boy’s piercing eyes.  He’d been right about the identity of the young man. There wasn’t anyone in the Arizona Territory who didn’t know the name or the reputation.   Jonas tightened his grip and shook.

“Welcome to Midnight, Mr. Madrid.”

“It’s just Johnny, Mr. Green.” 

“Well, then, Johnny, you just call me Jonas.  Come on in, and I’ll get you a drink and see what we can rustle up for you to eat.”

Jonas released the gunfighter’s hand and turned to the saloon doors.

Johnny took a final glance up and down the street before he trailed the older man into the building.  Once inside, he paused to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light.  The empty saloon was larger than he thought it would be, or maybe it just looked that way.  A long bar ran along the right side of the room, and a dozen small round tables sat empty.  Off to the left, a steep staircase went up to a second floor.

Walking across the creaky wooden floor, the gunhawk’s spurs jingled, and his boots stirred up a thin layer of dust, kicking it into the air where it hung, suspended in streams of sunlight coming through the dirty windows.

Jonas circled around the end of the bar and smiled at his customer. “What’ll it be, Johnny?”

“Tequila, if you got it.”

Jonas nodded.  “You’re in luck.  I have a bottle right here.  That and Rye are all I have these days.  I get beer once a week when the stage runs, but it don’t last long.”

“Then tequila it is.”  Johnny rested his boot on the foot rail, pushed his hat back on his head, and leaned onto the bar.  “Don’t suppose you have any salt and lime?”

Jonas laughed.  “Salt I got plenty of, but no lime.  Sorry.”

“That’s alright.”

Johnny caught his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.  He hardly recognized the man looking back.   Days of hard riding with nothing but trail rations to eat had taken their toll.   The man he saw in the mirror was thin, with a three-day-old beard, and covered with trail dust.

Jonas produced a clean glass and poured a shot of tequila. 

When Jonas started to take the bottle, Johnny asked, “You got enough tequila to leave the bottle?”

Jonas held the bottle and looked at it with a frown.  “Only got the one, but I expect to have more….”

“I know,” Johnny laughed, “when the stage comes in.”

“That’s right.”

“When will that be?”

“Well, today is Monday, and the Butterfield Overland comes through on Wednesday around noon.”

“So, you’re saying I need to make this last?”

“Pretty much,” Jonas answered with a wink. “But don’t you worry—I have a special hiding place for this one.”

The old man turned to the mirror behind the bar.  It was surrounded by a carved wooden frame with massive pillars on each end.  Jonas pushed on a section of the pillar nearest the front of the saloon, and a small door sprung open, revealing a hidden compartment.

Jonas turned to look at Johnny and grinned.  “See.  I put it in there, and no one can find it.” 

Johnny laughed.  “Good to know.”

Jonas stared at the bottle a moment before setting it on the bar.  “I’ll let you watch over it until I get back.  Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll see what grub I can whip up.”

“I appreciate it, but Jonas, please…, anything but beans.”

The older man scratched his stubbled chin.  “Tell you what.  You enjoy that drink, and I’ll walk over to see what Miss Amy has at the hotel.  She’s the best cook in town.”   

Johnny responded with only a tired nod. He watched the old man leave and then picked up the glass and bottle. He spotted a table next to the stairs, where his back would be to the wall, and he could see everyone who came and went.

Sauntering across the room, he stopped at the table, kicked a chair away from the table, and sat down.  He greedily downed the drink in one gulp and closed his eyes as the clear liquid burned its way down his throat and into his empty stomach.   He poured another glass and looked at it before taking a sip.  

Looking around the deserted saloon, he smiled.  The busiest thing in town seemed to be a spider weaving its web high in the corner.

He took a deep breath and let it out.  Maybe he’d found a place to lay low for a few days.  He sighed and stretched his legs out, dropping his hat on the table beside the bottle.   Johnny was tired.  Tired of everything in his life.  Tired of always being on the move, of looking over his shoulder and watching his back.  

At least it would be peaceful in Midnight.

---

* 

“Miss Amy!” Jonas yelled as he hurried into Amy Sutter’s hotel, letting the door slam behind him.   “Miss Amy!”

A short, white-haired woman in her early sixties hurried in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a yellow apron.  “Jonas Green, what’re you yelling about?  I’m right here.”

“Got a customer over at my place, and he’s hungry.  You got something he can eat?”

She brushed a stray hair away from her eyes and shot the man a look filled with frustration. “What’s wrong with the food at your place?”

“He said he didn’t want no beans.  That’s all I got.”

“Well, all I have is stew.”

“That’ll do fine.  Can I get a couple of bowls of the stew and some of that fresh bread I smell?”

Amy stopped and put her hands on her hips, giving Jonas a stern look.  “Can he pay?”

Jonas thought for a moment and shrugged.  “Don’t know, but I can tell you I’m not gonna ask him.  Don’t want to get on the wrong side of a man like that.”

“A man like what?”

“He’s one of them pistoleros, Miss Amy.”

“A gunfighter?  In Midnight?  So, what’s he doing here?”

“Said he was gonna stay over a day or two.”

She huffed, “Probably down on his luck or doesn’t plan to pay.  You go back and tell him to eat your beans.”

“I can’t do that, Amy.   You know who it is over there in my saloon?  That’s Johnny Madrid.”

Amy’s eyes widened, and her hands went to her throat.   “Madrid.  Land sakes alive!  Why Jonas, he’s liable to shoot us where we stand.”

Jonas shook his head.  “No.  I don’t think so.  He’s not like we’ve heard.  Amy, he’s just a boy.  If he’s over nineteen, I’ll eat my hat.”

“Nineteen or ninety, he has a reputation.”

“Well, I don’t want to rile him.  You got the stew ready or not?”

“You go on and keep an eye on him.  I’ll bring over a pot in a few minutes.”

“I’m gonna tell Alex to come to the saloon.”

“You do that, Jonas.  Might want to let a few more people know we got a famous guest in town.”      

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*  

Johnny had just started to relax when the saloon door crashed open. He leaped from his chair, sending it clattering to the floor and drawing his Colt at the same time.  The sheer terror on old Jonas’ weathered face caused Johnny to freeze.

Jonas held his hands up in front of him.  “Hold it, young fellow.  It’s just me.”

Johnny slowly straightened up and holstered his gun.  Turning, without a word, he picked up the overturned chair.

Jonas walked across the saloon and stopped a few feet from Johnny’s table.   “I’m sorry I spooked you.  Didn’t mean no harm.”

“Well,” Johnny shook his head, “I’ll tell you, old man, coming in like that could have got you shot.”

Jonas showed him that toothless grin.  “Won’t happen again.”

Johnny took a deep breath and let it out.  He was reaching for his drink when the doors banged open again, and his reaction was much the same as it had been moments earlier.

Alex Stone found he couldn’t breathe.  There he was, standing like a statue, hands in the air, staring down the barrel of Johnny Madrid’s gun.

“Don’t move, Alex!” Jonas called out.  “Johnny, he’s a friend.  Lower your gun.”

Johnny turned his head slowly, giving Jonas a piercing stare.  “Old man, you got any more ‘friends’ coming in here?”

Jonas smiled.  “Well, maybe … a few.”

“How many are a ‘few’?”

“Not sure.  I figure….”

Jonas looked at Alex, who shrugged and answered, “Maybe forty or so.” 

Johnny chuckled.  “So, the whole damn town?”

“We don’t get many visitors,” Alex replied, with his hands still in the air. 

“Yeah, I heard.”  The gunfighter shook his head.  “Put your hands down, and come on in.”

“Johnny, this here is Alex Stone,” Jonas said. “Alex runs the livery.”

“I remember.”

“Mr. Madrid, Jonas told me you’ll be staying over for a few days.  You want me to take care of your horse?”

“Call me Johnny.”  He holstered his gun.  “I appreciate the offer, but I’d better take him to the livery myself.  He don’t much like strangers.”

The saloon doors flew open again, and two men rushed inside. One was a tall, slender man with a prominent, bushy mustache, while the other was slightly shorter and sported more hair on his face than his head.  Both froze with their hands in the air at the sight of Johnny’s gun. 

Jonas blew out a loud breath.  “Damn it, Frank.  Al.”  Turning, Jonas looked at Johnny.  “It’s alright, son.  This here is Frank Thompson and Al Edwards.  Frank used to run the General Store.  That’s the building next to the hotel.  Al…well, Al used to work wherever he could get a job.  He works one of the mines outside town now.”

Johnny holstered his Colt and collapsed into his chair.  He snatched the glass of tequila off the table and downed it in one swallow, then looked at Thompkins.  “You said used to?”     

Frank Thompson lowered his hands, swallowed hard, and found he could breathe again. “Well, Mr. Madrid, with so few people left in Midnight these days, I couldn’t stay in business.  I work in one of the smaller mines now to make ends meet.”

The saloon doors opened again, this time slowly.

Everyone turned as Amy Sutter elbowed the batwings aside and entered, carrying a tray loaded with a blue and white covered tureen, a matching porcelain bowl, and a pot of coffee.  When Amy turned and looked up, she stopped, taking in the five men.

“Johnny, this is Amy Sutter.  I told you about her,” Jonas piped up.

“Is there something wrong?” Amy asked.

“No, ma’am.  Everything is just fine.” Johnny gave her a slight smile before his eyes lit on the tray.  “Is that for me?”

“Yes, it is.  I’m afraid all I had ready was beef stew.”

Johnny licked his lips.  “Miss Amy, stew is just fine.  I haven’t had a decent meal in … well, I can’t tell you when the last time was.”  

“Mr. Madrid….”

“Johnny, ma’am.” 

Amy walked across the room, balancing the tray.  She sat it on the table, scooped two dippers full of the stew into the bowl, and placed it in front of the young gunfighter.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Johnny, already with a mouth full, nodded and mumbled, “Thank you, ma’am.”

As Amy bent to place a plate of bread on the table, Johnny caught the unmistakable scent of fresh flowers. 

“The stew isn’t the only thing that smells good.  Ma’am, I don’t want to seem forward, but…”

“But what?”

Johnny dipped his head.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said anything.  It’s just that you smell… well, you smell like flowers.”

Amy raised slightly, looked Johnny in the eyes, and blushed.  “It’s lilac water.  Do you like it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Johnny filled his mouth again with a spoonful of stew and smiled as he chewed.

Jonas watched Amy carefully pour the steaming coffee into the cup.  There was a warm smile on the woman’s face, and in that moment, he realized that regardless of Johnny Madrid’s ability to pay, the boy had captured Amy Sutter’s favor.

Before the evening was over, almost everyone in town had come to get a glimpse of the notorious pistolero.   Amy Sutter gave him her best room, Alex Stone had his horse bedded down in his best stall at the livery stable, and Johnny Madrid was on a first-name basis with all the residents of Midnight.

---

*  

Saturday, July 18, 1868

It was still early morning when Jonas Green swung open the doors of the Starlight Saloon and stepped onto the creaking boardwalk.   He looked across the street at the hotel, knowing it was too early for either Amy or her new guest to be stirring. 

The old man went inside, put a pot of coffee on the wood stove, and grabbed his broom.  After everyone had left the night before, he’d closed the doors, swearing to clean up the next morning.  Well, morning was here, and Jonas wasn’t looking forward to washing every glass he owned or sweeping out the saloon, but he’d had more business the night before than he’d seen since the mines shut down.

A little past midday, Jonas gazed out of the saloon’s grimy windows and caught sight of the young gunfighter walking out of the hotel. Life in Midnight was hardly bustling, and Jonas couldn’t help but wonder what Johnny had planned for the day.

---

Johnny stretched and looked around.  The street running through Midnight was as peaceful as yesterday when he rode into town. 

Smiling, he remembered the night before.

It had turned into a lively event, with everyone in town stopping by to get a look at him.  Johnny had nursed a single drink for most of the night, remembering Jonas’s warning about there being only one bottle of tequila in town.

 It hadn’t taken long, though, before he knew he had to call it a night.  He didn’t know what time it was when he crossed the street and headed for the hotel.

Once in his room, Johnny locked the door and wedged a chair under the door knob.  Feeling secure, he stripped off his clothes, wishing he could have taken a bath.  He poured water into the wash basin from the pitcher on the dresser and did the best he could with the dirt and grime on his face, chest, and arms.    Finally, he slipped between the clean sheets on the bed, put his gun under his pillow, and fell asleep. 

When he woke this morning, he’d been surprised at the late hour.  It had been a long time since he’d had a good night’s sleep in a bed, and he felt better for it.  After cleaning up and shaving, Johnny ventured downstairs to be met by a smiling Amy Sutter.

Amy had mothered him with a late breakfast fit for a king, and now all he wanted to do was sit on the hotel’s shaded front porch and relax.  Easing into one of the hotel’s rockers, he lowered his hat over his eyes and stretched his legs. 

Johnny was getting comfortable when he heard the first creak.  Someone was coming from the side of the building and stepping onto the boardwalk.  It got quiet for a few minutes, then another board shifted.   

Keeping his head down, Johnny peered from under his hat’s brim.  His right hand slowly dropped to the butt of his gun and thumbed off the hammer strap, then eased the Colt out of the holster.

The boardwalk groaned again.  Johnny raised the gun even with his lap and waited.   He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it sure wasn’t what he got.

He slowly lifted his head so he could see the walkway.   Four small feet were positioned next to his chair.

Johnny slowly raised his head and pushed his hat back with his left hand, laying his Colt across his lap with the right.

“I told you he was awake!” a towheaded boy with blue eyes lisped, elbowing a little girl who could have been his twin.

The blond, freckled-face girl, dressed in a blue gingham dress, slapped the boy’s hand and stomped her foot.  “Stop it, Jamie.  I didn’t say he wasn’t!”

She turned her pale blue eyes on Johnny and smiled.  “Hello.”

Johnny quickly shifted his gun from his lap and slid it into the holster.  He straightened in the rocker before responding, “Hello, yourself.  And who are you two?”

“My name’s Sarah Elizabeth Fremont, but everyone calls me Sissy.”  She looked at the boy beside her.  “This is my brother Jamie, but his real name is James Martin Fremont.  We’re twins.”  She smiled, showing the gap between her front teeth.  “And this is,” she held up a rag doll with hair made of yellow yarn and black button eyes, dressed in the same clothes as her owner, “Mary Ann.”

“Is that so?” Johnny returned the smile.  “Well, how do you do, Mary Ann.”

“We know who you are,” Sissy blurted out.

“You do, do you?”

Both children nodded in unison.

“You’re Johnny Madrid,” Jamie said with a knowing smile.  “We heard all about you at breakfast.”

“Can we call you Johnny?” Sissy asked.  “That’s what Miss Amy called you.”

“That’s my name.  So, what did you hear about me?” 

“You’re a pistolero, and you’re real fast…and you’ve …” She paused with a concentrated expression on her face, trying to remember what she’d heard.  “You’ve been in a lot of gunfights,” Sissy added and then frowned.  “Johnny, what’s a pistolero?”

“Someone you don’t need to know about,” Johnny replied, then changed the subject.   “So, how old are you?”

“Six,” Jamie responded, then thumbed his chest, “but I’m the oldest.”

Johnny smiled, seeing the pride shining on the boy’s face.

“Only by a minute,” Sissy rebutted.

“Still makes me older than you,” he announced, sticking his tongue out at his sister.

Johnny couldn’t help but laugh.  The two children stopped bickering and turned on him.  

“What’s so funny?” Jamie asked, his eyes narrowing. 

Johnny sobered under the boy’s stare.  “Not a thing.” 

The door to the hotel opened, and Amy Sutter stepped out, wiping her hands on a dish towel.  Looking down at the children, she shook her head.  “Jamie.  Sissy.  Stop bothering Mr. Madrid.”

“We ain’t bothering him.” Jamie turned to look at Johnny.  “Are we Johnny?”

“They’re no trouble, ma’am.”

“Well, they need to get inside and wash up anyway.  Their lunch is on the table.”

The twins turned and started for the door when Sissy, clutching Mary Ann to her chest, looked over her shoulder and waved.  “Bye, Johnny. We’ll see you later.”

Johnny waved and then relaxed back in the rocker.  “Nice kids.  They yours?”

Amy nodded.  “They are now.  Their father died about three years ago when one of the mines caved in, and their mother…The poor thing died of a fever a month later.  If you ask me, she grieved herself to death.  There wasn’t anyone left to take them in except me.”

“They don’t have family anywhere else?”

“None we can find.”  Amy shook her head and then smiled, “But don’t get me wrong, I’ve grown to love those two.  Don’t know what I’d do with myself if I didn’t have them to care for.”

Amy stepped off the porch and looked at the darkening eastern sky.  “I expect it will be storming soon.  Lord knows we need the rain, but I hate this time of the year.  With monsoon season, you never know what the weather will be like from one minute to the next.  Back home in Kansas, the storms came in from the west, but here this time of year, they come in from the east and south.”

“You get a lot of flash flooding around here?” Johnny eyed the white billowing clouds mounting in the south.

“Some.  We get it all.  Dust storms, wind, lightning, and rain.”

As if on command, a sudden wind blew down the street, lifting a sheet of dust and moving it between the line of buildings.

“Speak of the devil.” Amy covered her face and ran towards the door.  “Best get inside.”

Johnny jumped out of the rocker and followed Amy, closing the door as sand and dirt bounced against the side of the building. 

“Come on in, and I’ll fix you a cup of coffee.” Amy led the way through the hotel lobby and into the small dining room.   “We can wait out the storm in here.”

“They usually last long?” Johnny found a table near the rear and sat.       

“It depends.  First, the wind picks up, then the rain starts.  Sometimes, it moves through quickly, and other times, it lasts all night.  I would have thought you’d seen lots of storms like this along the border.”

“I’ve seen my share, but they seem to change depending on where you are in the territory.”

The front door opened again, and several men who were at the saloon the night before, including Jonas Green and Alex Stone, tramped in, stomping their feet.

“Don’t go messing up my floors,” Amy scolded.  “Wipe your feet or take off those boots.”

Before long, several more men joined the others, receiving Amy’s warning as they came through the door.

With a scraping noise, Sissy dragged a chair across the floor, set it next to Johnny.

“Whatcha doing, Johnny?” She asked, flipping her blond pigtails over her shoulders.

“Nothing,” Johnny smiled.  “Just waiting for the storm to pass.”

“I can do nothing.” She climbed into the chair, placed her elbows on the table, and started swinging her legs.  “Mind if I sit here with you?  I put Mary Ann down for a nap and don’t have nothing to do.”

“I don’t see a reason you can’t.”  Johnny looked around.  “Where’s Jamie?”

“He went upstairs.  He’s bored.”

“And you’re not?”

She placed her chin in the palm of her hand and sighed.  “A little.”

“You and Jamie are the only children in town?”

She nodded.  “There were others, but they all moved on.  Now, it’s just the two of us.”

“What do you do all day?”

“Miss Amy gives us chores, and we play…. but not near the mines,” she hurriedly added.  “Miss Amy told us never to go near the mines.”  Sissy turned her head to look at Johnny.  “My Papa died in a mine.  Did you know that?”

“Miss Amy told me.”

“I don’t remember him much.  Don’t remember Mama either.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Miss Amy takes good care of us.”

“I know she does.”

Sissy looked at him for a long moment, trying to make up her mind on something.  Finally, she asked, “Johnny, you’ve been to a lot of places?”

“A few.  Why do you ask?”

“What’s it like… I mean in other places.  In one of the books Miss Amy reads to us, there are places that have green grass and tall trees.  What’s grass like?”

Johnny’s smile widened as he spoke, “Well, there’s all kinds of grass out there. Some are so lush and thick that it feels like you’re walking on a soft carpet.  Then there are others that are so fine that you can barely feel them under your feet.”

“And trees?  Are there really tall trees that reach to the sky?”

“Sure, there are, but…” Johnny stopped as the little girl’s eyes dropped to the table.  “You know, I grew up in Mexico, along the border.  It was hot and dry like here.  When I was your age, I’d never seen green grass or tall trees either.”

“Really?”

“Really.   So, you see, someday you’ll see it too.  Someday, you’ll find a place where the grass goes on forever, and there will be trees so tall you can’t see their tops.”

“I’d like that,” Sissy smiled.  “I bet Jamie’ll try to climb right up to the top.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Johnny laughed.

Johnny looked up to see Amy watching them.

“Sissy,” Amy called the child.  “Why don’t you go upstairs and find Jamie?  It’s time you took your nap.”

“Aw, do we have to?  I’m talking to Johnny.”

Johnny laughed.  “You go on and do what you’re told. We can talk later.  Besides, you need to check on Mary Ann.  Don’t you?”

Sissy nodded.  “Oh yes, but I’m sure she’s still asleep.”  She turned in the chair to go and stopped.  “Promise we’ll talk later?”

“I promise.  Go on.”

Sissy jumped down and hurried towards the stairs.  “Bye, Johnny.”

Alex Stone watched the little girl walk up the stairs and turned to look at Johnny.

“You’re good with the young’uns.”

“Yeah, well, they aren’t a threat.”

Alex sighed, “You always on the lookout for trouble?”

Johnny nodded.  “Kept me alive this long,” he said, pushing away from the table. He walked to the window and watched the rain settle the dust and turn the street into a river of mud. 

Johnny turned to look at Alex. “I think I’ll head up to my room and stretch out until the rain lets up.”

“A siesta sounds like a good idea.  I think I’ll stretch out on Miss Amy’s sofa in the lobby.”

“You will not, Alex Stone.  I just cleaned that sofa, and I’m not going to have your dusty backside on it.”

“But….”

Amy placed her hands on her hips.  “No, buts Alex.  You want a siesta, you go back to the stable.”

“But it’s raining.”

Amy laughed.  “You need a bath anyway.  Now, either sit there, and I’ll give you a piece of pie and some coffee, or go to the stable.”

Alex smiled.  “Pie and coffee.”

Johnny laughed as he took the stairs to the hotel’s second floor. He went to his room and lay down. Glancing at the door, he sighed, got up, and locked the door. “Yeah, kept me alive this long,” he said aloud and went back to the bed.

Johnny napped some, but with the window closed, the room was hot and stuffy.  Finally, he moved to the chair near the window and watched the rain fall.  When the rain eased and the sun came out, he headed to the dining room.  The same men he’d left earlier in the day were still there.  They stopped talking when he walked in.

“Looks like it’s letting up.” Jonas stood and pushed his chair under the shared table.  “I’d better go open the saloon and check for leaks.”

Johnny followed Jonas outside.  The air was fresh and clean, and the rocking chair looked like it was calling his name, but he looked at Jonas heading for the saloon.  The saloon sounded better.

---

*

It was late afternoon when Jonas ambled out of the saloon.  Seeing Johnny alone in front of the hotel, he crossed the street.

“Mind if I sit?”

Johnny glanced at the three empty rockers on the hotel’s porch and smiled.  “Looks like there’s room.”

Jonas sat with a groan and then a sigh as he stretched his legs out.  “Gonna be a fine evening…if it don’t rain again.”

Johnny tipped his head back and looked up at the blue sky but didn’t say anything.

A few minutes later, Jonas sighed again.  “Yep, fine evening.”

When Johnny didn’t say anything, Jonas heaved a heavy sigh.  “You don’t talk much, do you, boy?”

Johnny pushed his hat back and glanced at the old man, ready to say something about the use of the word ‘boy,’ but stopped himself when he saw a smile on the old man’s face.

“I talk when I have something to say.  Learn more by being quiet and listening.”

“Ain’t much to listen to around here.  The desert’s pretty quiet during the day.  It’s at night it comes alive.”

Johnny laid his head back and listened.   He could hear Jamie and Sissy off somewhere to his left, and down the street, Alex was pounding away on an anvil.  From inside the hotel, the aroma of fresh bread filled the air, and Amy was humming a tune he didn’t recognize.

The woman was a mystery to him.  Out here in the middle of nowhere by herself.  “Jonas, what’s Miss Amy’s story?”

Jonas straightened up, anxious to talk and have someone listen. “Miss Amy’s a fine woman.   She came to Midnight with her husband Roy in those early days when it was still a mining camp.   When the boom came, and the town started growing, they opened this hotel and were making good money, but Roy Sutter wasn’t satisfied.    

“You see, he was seeing everyone around him striking it rich, and he wanted his share. Amy tried to talk him out of it, but Roy’s mind was made up.   He staked a claim outside of town and began mining.  The Sutter Mine did real well in the beginning, but like all the other mines, the ore thinned out.  He didn’t have no choice but to go deeper and deeper.” 

“I take it things didn’t go as planned?” Johnny said, his interest piqued.

“You can say that.  One day in the summer of ’63, Roy got careless, and best anyone can figure, he misjudged the fuse on the dynamite he’d set.”   Jonas gave a mournful sigh.  “They never did find Roy Sutter’s body.  Miss Amy closed the mine and put a stone at the entrance, marking his resting place.  All Amy has left is this hotel.”

“Is that why she stays here, because of the hotel?”

Jonas nodded.  “That and those young’uns.”

“Is that why you stay?”

Jonas gave him a sly smile.  “She’s why a lot of us stayed.  Someone’s got to watch over her.”   

---

For the next two days, Johnny Madrid spent the daylight hours sitting in front of the saloon in a rocking chair on loan from the hotel.  Jonas Green sat next to him in his usual straight-back chair and was happy to talk about the old days in Midnight.

Sissy and Jamie divided their time between visiting Johnny and their usual chores.

Nights in Midnight weren’t ordinarily busy, but with a famous gunhawk in town, the residents made the most of it.  Johnny spent his nights in the saloon nursing the only bottle of tequila within one hundred miles.

As the days passed, Johnny started feeling restless.  The town was quiet, too quiet.  In Johnny’s experience, it was too good to last.   He soon discovered that if he was looking for peace and quiet, Johnny Madrid had picked the wrong town.

---

*

Tuesday, July 21, 1868

To those who lived in the Arizona Territory, it was normal to see the rising sun turn the morning sky into vivid streaks of red and deep gold, especially during the monsoon season.   From mid-June to the end of September, storms could have any day ending with rainfall, gullies brimming over, and everything blanketed with layers of thick, clinging mud.

Today, Captain Evan Miles eagerly anticipated the arrival of the rain. The scorching heat of the desert was becoming unbearable, taking a toll on him and his troops.  He glanced over his shoulder.  His command consisted of himself, Second Lieutenant William Sherwood, at his first post, First Sergeant Ian McGregor, and thirty-two troopers.  They were B-Troup, First Cavalry, one day out of Camp Lowell patrolling the territory between Tucson and Nogales on the Mexican border.

Lieutenant Sherwood guided his horse closer to Sergeant McGregor, stealing quick glances at the endless, dry expanse of the barren desert. He’d been excited about being stationed at Camp Lowell, but it hadn’t taken long to realize it was anything but the best duty station he could have drawn.  To him, Arizona was harsh and desolate.  It seemed almost unfathomable any living creature could live and thrive in such an inhospitable place.

Taking off his hat, Sherwood wiped his face with a handkerchief.   “Is it always like this?”

With a smile on his face, McGregor replied, his voice carrying a faint Scottish accent, “You mean hot as hades?” 

“Yes.”  Sherwood laughed as he put on his hat. He scanned the area around them. “Do you think we’ll see any Apache on this patrol?”

McGregor brushed his hand over his mustache and made a concerted effort to conceal his emotions.  He’d noted the excitement in the tall, clean-shaven Lieutenant’s voice.  He was acutely aware of Sherwood’s eagerness to demonstrate his capabilities, but they would need to confront the Apache in order to do so. No one tangled with the Apache and came out of it with a few scars.

“You can never tell, Sir.  It might be quiet, but between you and me, it’s been quiet too long.  Cochise is up to something.”   He glanced at Sherwood.  “I wouldn’t be too anxious to meet the Apache, Lieutenant.”

“Well, yes,” Sherwood answered, deflated.  Then, changing the subject, “How long have you been out here, Sergeant?”

“I came straight from Virginia to Fort Yuma right after the end of the war—almost three years.”

“You were in Virginia?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“With Sheridan in the Shenandoah Valley?  You saw a lot of action?”   

“Yes, Sir.  I was in the 1^st Massachusetts Cavalry until ’64.  Joined up in ’62 in Boston.   Then ended up with the 2^nd Michigan until the war ended.” 

“I read about the 1^st Massachusetts at West Point.  They joined the Army of the Potomac in ‘63, didn’t they?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You took a lot of losses in ’64.  Is that why you ended up with the 2^nd Michigan?”

Mc Gregor nodded.

“I heard there were a large number of men captured.”

“Yes, sir.  A lot of fine men spent the last year of the war in prison camps.” McGregor shifted in the saddle, not wanting to talk about the war.  The young faces of the officers and men he’d served with still haunted his dreams.

“Have you seen much action since coming to Arizona?”

“I’ve seen my share.”

“Apache?”

“The enemy out here is more than just the Apache, Lieutenant.  Closer to the border, there are bandits and outlaws, and then there’s the land itself.”

“Fort Yuma must have been interesting.  Being that close to the border, you must have run into a lot of unsavory characters.  I read about a number of them on my way west.  Pistoleros, the books called them.”

McGregor smiled, “I wouldn’t believe everything you read in those books, Lieutenant.  I know a few of those men, and some aren’t as bad as they’re made out to be.”

He adjusted his hat and lowered it over his eyes, clearly signaling to the Lieutenant that he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

Taking the hint, Sherwood said, “I think I’ll ride ahead.”

“Yes, Sir,” McGregor replied as the young Lieutenant urged his horse forward to join Captain Miles.

Miles glanced sideways as Sherwood slowed next to him.  “Is everything alright back there, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Sir.  I understand the next stop is a small mining town?”

“That’s right. It’s called Midnight. A few years ago, it was like all the others, busting with gold and growing. The gold played out, and most of the people left.”

“How many still live there?”

Miles thought for a moment.  “Maybe fifty.  Some make a meager living on what little gold is still there.”

“Anything of interest there?”

“Not much.  There’s a saloon and a hotel.  Amy Sutter runs the hotel.  I’d have to say she’s the best cook in the territory.”

“That’s it?”

“Besides the livery stable.  There are a lot of boarded-up buildings but nothing else.”

Sherwood scanned the desert and shook his head. “How long did it take you to get used to the desert, the isolation?”

Miles laughed, “I’m still working on it.”  On the horizon, the outline of the town came into view.  “Well, there it is.”

“It doesn’t look like much.”

“Maybe not, but we’re here to protect what few people still live there.”

Sherwood nodded and pulled his hat down to shade his eyes.  

---

As had become his routine, Johnny ate breakfast at the hotel and then strolled across the street to spend the morning sitting with Jonas in front of the saloon. 

He looked left and then right.  It was the same every day.  Nothing but dirt and dust.  He’d decided he’d move on tomorrow when Jamie came running down the middle of the street with Sissy behind him.

“The army is coming.”  He turned and pointed to the west.  “Lookie, Johnny.  Soldiers are coming.”

Johnny pushed out of his chair and leaned against a weathered post— his gaze fixed on the cavalry entering Midnight.   Suddenly, Jamie and Sissy ran past him and dashed down the dusty street, their laughter intermingling with the pounding of the horses’ hooves. With uncontained excitement, they ran alongside, waving and shouting to the riders.

Captain Miles raised his hand for the column to stop in front of the saloon.  Turning in his saddle, he ordered, “Lt. Sherwood, see that the horses are watered.”  He looked at Jonas and frowned.  “And keep the men out of the saloon.”

“Yes, Sir.”  Sherwood reined his horses around.  “Sergeant McGregor, dismount the troop.  Make sure the horses are watered and all the canteens filled.  The saloon is off limits.”

McGregor saluted and proceeded to carry out the Lieutenant’s orders.     

Jonas stepped forward.  “Captain, it’s real good to see you.” 

“Jonas, how are you?”  Captain Miles removed his gloves, tucked them in his belt, and extended his hand to the old-timer.

“Fine, Captain.  Just fine.”  Jonas accepted the officer’s hand.  “You on a regular patrol?”

Miles looked up and down the quiet street.  “Yes.  As far as we know, there hasn’t been any trouble for the last three weeks.”  Miles turned to Jonas, and his eyes fell on Johnny, finally coming to rest on the low-hung gun belt. 

“You’re new to Midnight, aren’t you, son?”  Miles started to extend his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr.…”

Johnny gave the Captain a slight smile. “Madrid.”

Miles’s hand dropped.  “Madrid?”

“That’s right.”

“I believe I’ve heard of you.”

Johnny relaxed and said with a soft drawl, “That so?”

Jonas saw trouble coming and wanted to head it off.  “Captain, Johnny’s staying over a few days with us.”

Miles opened his mouth to say something when Sissy, Mary Ann in her arms, came running down the street.  She stopped beside Johnny and tugged on his arm.  “Johnny.”

Johnny glanced down at Sissy.  She curled her forefinger and motioned him to come to her level.  Johnny took his eyes off Miles and knelt next to the little girl. 

“Whatcha need, Sweetheart?”

Sissy looked up at Miles and Jonas, giving them an untrusting stare, before leaning into Johnny and whispering, “Jamie and me are gonna help Sergeant Mac water the horses.  Will you look after Mary Ann for a little while?  I know she’ll be safe with you.”   Giving the others another untrusting look, she said, “So, will you?”

Johnny smiled and held out his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.”

Sissy placed the doll firmly in Johnny’s hand, turned, and merrily skipped away. 

Clasping the rag doll, Johnny stood and turned to face Jonas and Miles, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks as he tried to hide his embarrassment.  He looked down at the doll and shook his head.  “Guess I’m babysitting.”

Jonas threw back his head and laughed.  “Good for you, son.  That girl don’t let just anyone take care of Mary Ann.  I guess she thinks you can handle the job.”

Johnny laughed but knew he better not let anything happen to the doll.

Captain Miles was smiling.  “So, Mr. Madrid.  What does bring you to Midnight?”

“Just need to rest up. Midnight is a nice quiet town.”

“That it is.”

Lieutenant Sherwood chose that moment to join the Captain.  “Sir, the horses are almost watered, and the canteens filled.”

“Very well, Lieutenant.  We’ll move out as soon as I pay my respects to Mrs. Sutter.”  Miles turned towards the hotel and stopped.  Amy Sutter was headed their way.

Jonas said, “Speak of the devil. Here she comes now.”

Waiting for Amy, Miles said, “Oh, Lieutenant, I’d like to introduce you to Jonas Green and Mr. Madrid.”

“It’s just Johnny, Captain.”

Miles nodded.  “Johnny, then.  This is Lieutenant Sherwood.  He’s new to the territory.”

“First post?” Jonas asked.

 “Yes, sir.  I suppose it shows,” Sherwood laughed.  “It’s nice to meet you both.”

After shaking hands with Jonas and Johnny, Sherwood turned to watch a smiling Amy join them. 

“Captain Miles, it’s so nice to see you.  Can you stay a while?”

“No, ma’am.  We have to get back on patrol.  Perhaps on our return, we can stay over a night.”

“I certainly hope so.” Amy handed over a small package she was carrying.  “I baked cookies for the children this morning.  I thought you might like some.”

“Oatmeal?” Miles asked, hopefully.

Amy nodded.  “Your favorite, if I remember right.”

“Bless you,” Miles said, taking the cookies. “Lieutenant, I want you to meet the most important person in Midnight.”

“This wouldn’t be the lady you were telling me about, would it, Sir?   The best cook in the territory?”

“Exactly.” Miles turned and tipped his hat.  “Amy Sutter, this is Lieutenant Sherwood.”

“Lieutenant, it’s nice to meet you.” Then, looking at Miles.  “I believe there are enough cookies in there to share, Captain.”

“Very much appreciated, ma’am.” Sherwood nodded.

“Madrid!” 

Johnny’s hand dropped to the butt of his Colt as he turned.

 Sergeant Ian McGregor stood a few feet away, his hands on his hips.   “By God, it is you, boy.”

Johnny relaxed, dropped his hand away from his gun, and grinned.  “Mac.” 

McGregor strode forward, hand extended.  “Good to see you, Johnny.  When Sissy said she had a famous pistolero named Johnny watching Mary Ann, I had to see for myself.  Sissy is particular who watches her doll.”

“Good to see you, Mac,” Johnny laughed.  “What are you doing here?  I thought you were at Fort Yuma.”

“Got transferred to Camp Lowell a few months ago.  What brings you up this way?  The last I heard, you were in Mexico.”   

“Finished a job or two there and went to Texas for a spell.  I heard there might be some work up this way.”

McGregor nodded.  “Well, that explains why you’re in Arizona.  What brings you to Midnight?”

“Damn, Mac.  You gotta know everything.” Johnny smiled.  “If you have to know, I needed a place to rest up for a few days, and Midnight is about as quiet a town as I could find.”

“That it is, lad.  That it is.”  McGregor turned to Lieutenant Sherwood.  “Sir, we’re ready when you are.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Sherwood responded. 

“Sergeant, I take it you and Mr. Madrid know each other?” Miles said.

“Yes, Sir.”  Mac clapped Johnny on the back.  “I first met Johnny in Yuma right after I got to the Territory.”

Johnny laughed.  “I remember.  Pulled your irons out of the fire that day, didn’t I Mac?”

McGregor chuckled, “Aye, you did, lad, and I’ve never touched tequila since.”

They both laughed.

“Sounds like a story I’d like to hear,” Jonas said.

McGregor straightened.  “Well, that’s for another time.”  Turning to Sherwood, he said, “The men are ready, Lieutenant.”

Sherwood tipped his hat to Amy.  “Very nice meeting you, ma’am.  I look forward to stopping on our return.”

“I’ll make sure I have a good meal ready for you all, Lieutenant.”

“Mount up,” Miles ordered.  

Miles mounted his horse and looked down at Amy, Jonas, and Johnny.  With a nod and a tip of his hat, he raised an arm.  “Forward, ho.”

On the outskirts of town, Sherwood moved to ride next to Miles. “Captain, may I ask a question?”

“Ask away, Lieutenant.”

“The man back there…Madrid.  What did Sergeant McGregor mean when he referred to Madrid as a famous pistolero?”

Miles turned his head and gave the Lieutenant a long stare before finally answering, “Being new to the West, I expect you haven’t heard of Johnny Madrid.”

“No, I…” Sherwood paused.  “Wait a minute.  When I was on the train traveling to Denver, I picked up one of those penny dreadfuls to pass the time.   It was about a young gunfighter…” Sherwood turned in the saddle and looked back at Midnight.  “That was him?  Johnny Madrid.  I thought the book was fiction.”

“There’s more than one of those books floating around.  I’ve read a few myself.  But…after meeting Madrid in person, I wonder how much truth there is in them.”

“I agree.  The young man we meet back there doesn’t seem to be the cold-blooded killer I read about in that book.  Why, he can’t be more than nineteen.”    

“Eighteen is more like it, but you’re right.  That boy doesn’t seem anything like the man I’ve heard about for years.”     

The two officers were quiet as they rode along.  Evan Miles decided he would have a long talk with Sergeant McGregor when they camped that night.  He wanted to know more about Johnny Madrid.

---

Wednesday, July 22, 1868

There was little entertainment in a small town, so on Wednesday morning, the residents of Midnight, all forty-three of them, gathered for the stagecoach’s arrival. 

Johnny sat in the creaking rocking chair in front of the saloon and looked around as the street filled.  “I suppose this is the highlight of your week?” he drawled, leaned back, and lowered his hat over his eyes.

“You might say that.” Jonas rested his elbows on his knees, shifted forward, and looked down the street.  Not seeing the coach coming, he leaned back and imitated Johnny.  “At least I’ll have another bottle or two of tequila tonight and four bottles of rye if the driver hasn’t broken any of them.”

Johnny lifted his hat and turned to look at Jonas.

The old man laughed.  “Don’t worry.  Henry don’t break many.”

Johnny heaved a sigh. “As long as the tequila’s in one piece.”

Johnny reset his hat and was about to lean back again when someone yelled out, “Here it comes.” 

Johnny kept his seat as everyone turned to see the billowing dust cloud taking shape on the western horizon.  

Jonas frowned and pushed out of his chair.   “Henry’s coming in awful fast.”

Johnny stopped rocking and went to stand next to Jonas.   It was true.  The stage horses were at full gallop but started slowing as they entered the small town.

Johnny and Alex Stone, along with several other men, were ready to step into the street and grab the lead horse’s reins when what appeared to be a deserted stage suddenly came to a full stop in front of the saloon. 

Climbing onto the coach, Alex peered into the driver’s box.  “It’s empty.”

Johnny bit his lower lip and looked at Jonas and then at the wooden sides of the coach riddled with bullets and arrows.

 “What about inside?” Johnny asked with a sinking feeling.  He knew what they’d find before opening the stage’s door.

Jonas stepped down from the boardwalk, reached up, grasped the door handle, and paused before opening it. Taking a deep breath, he let the stage door swing open. The body of a man tumbled out, landing at his feet in a heap.

A child’s scream pierced the air.  Amy grabbed Sissy and turned her face away from the sight while Jamie stared wide-eyed at the body on the ground.

“Best get them off the street,” Johnny said, trying not to look at the weeping child. 

Amy guided Sissy behind the coach and across the street.  “Jamie, come on.”

“But I want to see.” Jamie stood on the boardwalk, eyes fixed on the body lying at his feet.

“I said come, and I mean now!”  Amy strode back, grabbed the boy’s hand, and dragged him to the hotel.

Johnny and Jonas waited until the children were well out of sight. With a deep breath, Johnny glanced inside, only to be met with the sight of two motionless figures covered in blood.  There was no doubt they were dead.

Stepping back, Johnny pulled one of the arrows from the side of the stage and looked at its markings.  “Apache.”

Jonas sidled up beside Johnny and took the arrow from the boy’s hand.  Squinting at the markings on the shaft, he nodded.  “Chiricahuas.”   He turned to gaze in the direction the stage had come from.  A hazy cloud of dust filled the distant horizon.

“Looks like we’re in for it!” Jonas yelled.  “Everyone, take cover.  Alex, get the horses out of sight.”  He turned to Johnny.  “You can still ride out.”

“And go where?  You don’t think they don’t have the town surrounded by now?”

Jonas gave Johnny his toothless smile.   “Never can tell.  One man might get through to Camp Lowell.  It ain’t but about thirty miles, as the crow flies.”

“I ain’t no crow, old man,” Johnny huffed.  “Besides, it looks like you’re gonna need me in a little while.”

“Expect so.”  Jonas took another look to the east and then west.  “Looks like you’re right.” Jonas pointed to the growing dust clouds.  He looked to the north, towards the mountains.  “A man might be able to head up into the hills there and then circle around until they got behind the Apache.”

Johnny nodded.  “A man might.  You got someone in mind, and I don’t mean me?”

“Maybe.”

Johnny looked down the street.  Alex Stone led two of the town’s horses out of the livery.  Behind Alex, three men followed, leading more horses, including Johnny’s.   

“Wait a minute!  Where are they going with my horse and gear?”

Jonas flashed a wide grin as he spoke. “We’ve got a secret hideaway where we can stash the horses.  It’s away from the Apach,’ so they won’t be found, but we can still reach them if we need to.”

Johnny looked around, confused. “Where?”

Jonas motioned toward the hotel.  “Come on.  I’ll show you how we get there from this end.”

Bewildered, Johnny furrowed his brow as he pushed his hat to the back of his head with one finger, then placed his hands on his hips. “This end?”

“Midnight was built on top of one of the early gold mines.  When the mine played out, we started using the tunnels for cold storage.  The mine entrance is about half a mile north of town, and we get there by going through the hotel.”

Jonas led the way into the hotel and to a door behind the stairwell.  

Johnny turned the doorknob and pushed.  As the door widened, he was met by a rush of cool, damp air that sent a chill down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

The musty, earthy smell reminded him of a long-forgotten cemetery after a heavy rain. “And this leads to the mine entrance?”

“Sure does.  There’s a basement under the hotel and two tunnels leading out.  One goes across to the saloon and the other to the mine entrance.  We have the entrance hidden by rocks and brush.”

Johnny looked into the darkened basement and shuddered.  He’d never liked closed-in spaces.  They always reminded him of times he’d spent hiding from his Mama’s men.

“Jonas.”

Johnny and the older man turned to see Amy coming out of the hotel’s kitchen with a basket filled with food.  Sissy and Jamie trailed behind her, carrying pillows and blankets.

“Miss Amy, you’d best get down in the tunnel with the young’uns.”

“We’re going.  You make sure you and the other men don’t wait too long to get down there, too.”

“Don’t worry about us.  You just take care of yourselves.”

Sissy stopped at the top of the steps leading down to the basement and looked back.  “Johnny, are you coming?”

He smiled at her and walked over to put a hand on her shoulder.  “I will later.  Right now, we need to get ready for the Apache.  You stay with your brother and Miss Amy and don’t worry.  Everything will be alright.”

Johnny turned to see Jonas smiling at him.   “What?”

“You sure ain’t how I figured you’d be.”

“And how did you figure me to be?”

The old man paused and then smiled again.  “Different is all.  Now, come on, I’ll show you where we keep the extra guns and ammunition.”

Johnny followed Jonas back to the street.  The road was clear of the few residents who called Midnight home, and except for the wind, there wasn’t a sound.  He looked around, and movement on the saloon roof caught his attention.  

Shading his eyes against the sun, Johnny saw several men lining the roofs on both sides of the street.

Jonas glanced sideways to see where Johnny was looking.  “We keep extra rifles and ammunition on the roofs just in case we’re attacked.”   He pointed to the loft of the livery, where three men pointed rifles their way.  “Alex has that end of the street covered.”

“How do they get back to the mine shaft?” Johnny asked and then nodded, guessing the answer to his question.  “You have another tunnel running from the livery stable to either the saloon or the hotel, right?”

“You’re pretty smart, young fellow.  It runs to the hotel.  Now, let’s find a place to settle in.  I don’t want to be caught on the street when they come in whooping and hollering.”

Johnny looked west.  “What’s on the other side of Midnight?”

Jonas followed Johnny’s eyes.  “The cemetery.”

Johnny gave him a faint smile.  “Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll avoid the place.”

Jonas looked like he’d aged in the past few moments.  “It comes to us all, boy. No way we can avoid it.” 

Their eyes met, and Johnny nodded.  “Ain’t that the truth.”

---

Johnny took a position inside the hotel’s front door while Jonas insisted on protecting his saloon.  Over the next several hours, the two men would look at each other across the street and shrug.   By five o’clock, Johnny thought maybe the Apache had decided not to raid the town. 

He’d just started to relax when a rustling noise behind him made him turn, gun drawn.  He took a deep breath and lowered the barrel of his Colt when he saw Amy staring wide-eyed at him.

“Ma’am, you don’t ever want to come up on anyone like that again, especially me.  I could have shot you.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Johnny,” Amy stammered.   “I only wanted to…” She took a deep breath, composing herself.  “I only wanted to let you know I have something for you to eat.” 

Johnny holstered his gun and nodded.  “Thanks.  I could stand something right about now.”  He looked back at the quiet street.  “It looks like they’ve changed their minds.”

“It would seem so,” Amy replied.    “If they were going to attack, they would have done it by now.”

“Where are Sissy and Jamie?”

“I let them go upstairs.  They can get down here fast enough if there is an attack.”

Amy’s eyes went to the gun on Johnny’s hip.  When she felt him watching her, she raised her eyes to meet his.    “You’ve killed with that?”

Johnny’s eyes hardened.  “When I have to.”

“Was it easy?”

“Not at first.”

Amy’s voice softened, “And now?”

A sad, faint smile crossed the gunfighter’s lips.  “As easy as breathing.”

“As easy as that?  I don’t believe you.”

Johnny snorted.  “Yeah?”

“And are you as fast as we’ve heard?”

Johnny lowered his head and sighed.  “Now, ma’am ….”

“Don’t ma’am me, John Madrid,” Amy smiled.  “I know what we’ve heard about you, but I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.   There are two sides to you, young man.”

“Two sides?” Johnny said in a soft drawl. “I don’t think so.  There’s just one me, and if you got to know me better, I don’t think you’d like it much.”

“Nonsense.  I’ve already seen the other side of you.”

“You think you know me, Miss Amy?”

“The young man I’ve come to know is gentle when he wants to be.”  She held up a hand to silence him.  “No.  Wait.  I saw you with Sissy and Jamie, and a cold-blooded killer wouldn’t have given those two the time of day.”

“They’re just kids.  No one would want to hurt them.”

“You’re wrong there,” Amy protested.  “I’ve lived in these parts for a lot of years, and I’ve seen the cruelty men can do, what they have done.  But there’s more, Johnny.  The man I’ve come to know drinks tequila but prefers milk.” She smiled when he lowered his head.  “And when he smiles….”  She reached out and put a hand on Johnny’s arm.  “My goodness, John, you have a smile that lights up a room and warms an old woman’s heart. 

“Yes, I suspect the side you want people to see is the deadly pistolero with a heart as black as night, but deep down—”

“That’s enough.”  Johnny snapped.  “You don’t know anything about me.  The person you’ve seen these last few days isn’t the real me.”

Amy smiled but didn’t say anything.  She stood and turned to leave when Sissy and Jamie came running down the hotel stairs, shouting, “Indians!  Indians, Johnny!”

---

The air echoed with their fierce war cries and the sharp cracks of gunfire as Apache warriors, their faces streaked with war paint, thundered down the street on horseback.

 “Get down in the tunnel,” Johnny yelled over his shoulder as he hurried back to the door.

A moment later, he heard the cellar door slamming shut and knew Amy and the children were safe.

Glancing across the street to the saloon, he saw a grinning Jonas squeezing off shots at anything that moved. The sound of repeating rifles echoed down the street, and Johnny knew everyone had joined in defending the small town.

The attack seemed to last forever, but finally, the sun dropped behind the mountains, and the street became silent.

Johnny slumped against the wall next to the hotel’s front door, trying to control his breathing and pounding heart.  He pushed himself up and eased the door open.  Taking a tentative step onto the porch, he waited a moment before walking outside.

The street was littered with bodies of dead Apache.  Quickly looking around, Johnny scanned the rooftops of the buildings and wondered how many residents of Midnight had been lost.

Walking into the middle of the darkening street, he could barely make out the livery stable at the far end of town, but he could see enough to know the doors to the building were hanging open and swinging in the wind.  There were no signs of life.

Looking across the street, he expected to see Jonas.  When the old man didn’t show himself, Johnny hurried to the saloon, afraid of what he would find.

Standing beside the half-open door, Johnny used the barrel of his gun to open it further.  Peering inside, he scanned the room.  What little light there was came from the saloon’s shattered windows and through the door.

“Jonas?”  The word was no more than a whisper. 

When there was no answer, Johnny repeated louder, “Jonas?”

A faint moan came from behind the bar.

“Jonas, where are you?”

“Here.”

Johnny headed for the bar, then hefted himself over the top and looked behind it.   Jonas was sprawled flat on his back, blood covering the front of his shirt.

Johnny swung his legs over the bar and landed quietly on the other side.  Kneeling, he lifted the corner of the old man’s shirt.  One look at the chest wound, and he knew there was nothing anyone could do.

 He looked into the pale face and shook his head.  “Jonas …”   

Jonas raised a hand and weakly waved Johnny away.  “I know, boy…” he gasped.  “I know.  I told you it comes to us all.”  He then grabbed Johnny’s hand and held on tight.  “You look after Miss Amy and them young’uns.”

“Just be quiet.  Don’t move.”   Johnny grabbed a towel off the bar and pressed it against the wound.

“No.  You promise me you’ll see to ‘em.”

Johnny looked into the dying man’s eyes.  “I’ll make sure they’re alright.  Now, damn it, old man, lay still.”

Jonas smiled.  “Bossy ain’t—” The words drifted away, the old hazel eyes glazed over, but the smile remained.

Johnny leaned against the backside of the bar, then slid to the floor.  He looked at his blood-covered hands and took a deep breath.

Johnny Madrid made it a point not to spend much time in any place and tried not to make friends.  Friends were a liability that could get him killed.  Hell, here he was in Midnight only a few days, and now he was almost in tears over losing the crabby old man.

“Johnny!” Amy’s voice echoed off the walls of the empty saloon. 

Johnny wiped his eyes with his sleeve and stood.  He looked down at a friend he’d lost too soon.

“Johnny!  Jonas!  Are you in there?”

Johnny hurried around the end of the bar and strode across the floor.  All he could think was stopping Amy before… before she saw Jonas.

“Johnny!” Amy pushed the batwing doors open.  “Oh, there you are.  I’ve been calling and calling.  Is everything…?  You’re bleeding.”

Johnny shook his head.  “Not my blood.”   He looked over his shoulder and then at Amy.  She must have seen it in his eyes and known.

“Jonas?”

Johnny nodded.

Amy choked back a sob, “Is he…?” 

Johnny nodded again.

She took a deep breath, tears pooling in her eyes.  “Oh, Jonas… You old fool.” 

“Miss Amy—” Johnny reached out to her.

“No, it’s alright, Johnny.  It’s just that he was a good friend, and I’m going to miss him.”    

Johnny pulled the woman aside and drew his Colt at the sound of boots slapping against the wooden boardwalk. 

Alex Stone and Frank Thompson pushed through the saloon doors and skidded to a stop.  

“Whoa, Johnny.  It’s us,” Alex said.

Johnny breathed a sigh of relief and holstered his gun.

The liveryman scanned the saloon and then looked at Amy.  “Where’s Jonas?”

“Jonas didn’t make it,” Johnny answered.

Alex dipped his head and closed his eyes.

“How many others did we lose?” Johnny asked.

Alex shook himself and answered, “Counting Jonas, twelve.  There aren’t many of us left.”

“We’ve got to get out of here before we’re all dead,” Frank said.

Amy shook her head.  “How do you plan to do that, Frank?  I don’t expect the Apache will just let us ride out.”

“No.  I don’t expect they’ll let us ride out.”  Johnny walked out of the saloon and onto the boardwalk. Once outside, he took a deep breath, trying to get enough air in his lungs to purge the smell of death that filled the air.

Amy, Alex, and Frank followed him. 

Johnny walked to the middle of the street and looked left, then right.  He needed to come up with a plan that would work.    “We need to get word to the Army patrol that came through yesterday.”

Alex tipped his head back and sighed.  “That patrol is a hell of a long way off by now.”

“Yeah, they are.”  Johnny slowly turned, taking in the area south and east of town.  “We need something to get their attention.”

“Like what?”

Johnny gave Alex a faint smile.  “We set fire to something big enough for them to notice.”

Johnny looked around slowly.  His eyes rested on the livery stable.

Alex drew himself up.  “Now, wait a damn minute.  You want to burn my building?”

“It’s either that or let everyone in town die.  You got a better idea?”

The sound of tiny running feet echoing on the wooden hotel’s boardwalk caught the men’s attention.  Sissy and Jamie, tired of being confined to the dim basement and narrow tunnels, had decided to venture out.  At the sight of lifeless bodies littering the street, they came to a sudden stop.  Sissy’s eyes widened, looking from the dead to the living.

“Miss Amy,” the little girl cried before running to the only mother she had.  Jamie was right behind her.  Each child clutched a leg and buried their heads into her apron.

Amy’s hands went to the children’s heads.  “It’s alright.  They can’t hurt you now.”

Alex turned to Johnny.  “Should we get them out of the street?” he said, motioning to the dead Apache.

Johnny shook his head.  “No, leave them.  Their own will come for them when the sun sets.  Tell everyone to leave the braves alone when they do come.   One thing about most tribes is they care for their own when they can.”

Johnny glanced west.  “The sun will be going down in an hour or so.  We need to be ready for tomorrow morning before then.  Get the stage horses and hitch them up.  Take the stage to the tunnel entrance on the other side of town.  Is there someplace they can stay until we’re ready to hitch them up again in the morning?”

“Don’t worry.  We’ve got a place.”

“Just make sure they’re rested and have plenty of feed and water.  Those horses may be the only thing standing between us and the Apache if we don’t get help.”

Alex looked at his livery and nodded.  “When do you want to set fire to the livery?”

Johnny could hear the reluctance in the man’s voice.

“Just as the sun crests the mountain.” Johnny rubbed his stubbled face and took a deep breath.  It had been a long day and would be an even longer night.  “The Army patrol is east of us.  It should still be dark enough in the west so that the flames can be seen, and then when they die down, the black smoke can be seen for miles.

“You best get everything you want to keep out now.  Have what men we have left start adding wood inside.  We want it to burn and smoke as long as possible.”

“We have some kerosene, not a lot, but it burns black.”

Johnny ducked his head as the wind picked up.  “Good.” 

“Johnny,” Amy called to him but had to turn her face away from the dust swirling around them.  Looking at him, she coughed.  “What about burying our dead?  If we don’t do it now, then…”  Her words trailed off as a whirlwind danced down the street between them.

Johnny pulled his hat down over his eyes and turned to look into the darkness of the saloon, where Jonas still lay in a pool of blood.  He wanted to bury Jonas, but there just wasn’t time.

“Jonas and the others deserve a decent burial,” Amy found her voice again.

Alex nodded.  “She’s right, Johnny.”

By now, more of the survivors of the attack were gathering at the saloon.  Resigned he was outnumbered, he said, “All right, we bury them.” He turned and spat out a mouth full of dust.  “But it needs to be quick.  I want everyone inside before it gets completely dark.”

---

*

After leaving Midnight, Evan Miles led his patrol southeast towards some of the smaller mining towns still producing gold before turning north towards Dragoon Springs and the Butterfield Stage route.

It had been a quiet patrol, and everyone was looking forward to getting back to Tucson and Camp Lowell.   

Sergeant McGregor was the first to spot signs of trouble in the barren desert.   Kicking his horse, he trotted to the front of the column.   “Captain Miles!”

Miles turned in the saddle, seeing McGregor riding towards him. He pulled back on the reins and raised his right hand, bringing the column to a halt.

“Sergeant?”

McGregor reined to a stop next to Miles and silently pointed to the northern sky.

Miles’s eyes went to the horizon.  McGregor didn’t have to say anything.  The Captain knew what he was seeing meant.  A good mile ahead, red-headed turkey vultures, their wide dark-black wings beating the air, circled and dipped toward the ground. 

Lieutenant Sherwood moved forward. Looking in the direction McGregor pointed, he raised his hat to shade his eyes and get a better look. “Vultures?”

Miles nodded.  “It may be nothing, but… we’d better check it out.”

Signaling his men to follow, Miles kicked his horse into a gallop.  It didn’t take long to reach the source of the trouble.  A single body was lying in the dirt, covered in blood and vultures.   

Miles fired a shot in the air, sending the scavengers airborne.  Riding forward, he dismounted and grimaced at the sight.  The man hadn’t been dead long but long enough for the vultures to start feasting on him.

McGregor dismounted and walked to stand next to the captain.  “Damn.”

“Do you know who he is?”

McGregor nodded. “Henry Jakes.  He drives the Butterfield stage between Fort Bowie and Tucson.”   McGregor stepped forward, getting a good look at the arrow sticking out of the driver’s back.  Hesitantly, he reached down and wrenched the arrow out.   He held it up, looking at it before handing it to Miles.

Miles examined the bloody arrow. “Chiricahua”

“Yes, Sir,” McGregor confirmed.  “The stage’s next stop would have been Midnight.”

Everyone turned to look west, understanding the implications of McGregor’s words.

Sherwood spoke up.  “How long will it take us to get back there?”

Miles had already been thinking about it. “At least a day, but the Apache may leave the town alone.”

McGregor cleared his throat.

“You have something to say, Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir.  When there were fifteen hundred people there, the Apache would have stayed clear.  There’s no more than forty or fifty there now.”

“You’re right.”  Turning to Sherwood, Miles ordered, “Lieutenant, leave two men to bury this man.  Have them catch up with us as soon as they can.   We’re riding as far as we can tonight.  We’ll be in Midnight tomorrow morning.”

“I hope we’re not too late,” McGregor mumbled, thinking of not only the people of Midnight but also of his friend.  

---

The day ended with the remaining twenty-nine adult residents of Midnight’s laying twelve of their own to rest.

“Let’s try to get some sleep.  The Apache should be coming soon.  Remember,” Johnny called out, “don’t fire on them.  All they want is their dead.”

Alex raised his rifle.  “If they come into town, they’re dead.  That’ll be just that many we won’t have shooting at us in the morning.”

Other men voiced the same sentiment until Johnny held up a hand to silence them.

Johnny walked to stand in front of the liveryman.  He put a hand on the upheld rifle and pushed it down.  “You call them savages.  You buried your dead.  Don’t you think they deserve the right to bury theirs?”

Amy moved to stand next to Alex and placed a hand on his arm. “Johnny’s right, Alex,”

Alex Stone shook his head and exhaled but finally relented.  “Alright.  We do it your way.”

Johnny nodded and turned, heading back into town.

Settling into his place next to the hotel’s front door, Johnny pulled a blanket around his shoulders and thought about what would happen the following day.  He knew the Apache would attack at daybreak, riding in from the east with the sun to their backs.  There were only thirty-one people left in Midnight, including the children.  If the Army didn’t come, he knew there would be a lot less this time tomorrow night.

When he heard a door squeak, Johnny jumped and drew his gun. Looking towards the hotel’s interior, he saw the outline of a small figure step through the cellar door.

“Johnny?” a tiny voice called out in a whisper.

“Over here, Jamie,” Johnny whispered.

Quietly, the boy closed the distance between them and sat huddled next to Johnny.

“What are you doing here?  You should be down there trying to get some sleep.”

The boy shook his head.  “Can’t sleep.  I’m worried.”

Johnny smiled.  Jamie had said, worried, not scared.   “You don’t need to worry.  We’re going to do everything we can to make sure you and your sister are alright.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”  Jamie bit his lower lip and sighed.  “Johnny, have you got a brother or sister?”

Johnny shook his head.  “No.  I always wanted one, but my mama only had me.  I would have liked to have had a big brother.”

“You know I’m a big brother?”

“I know.”

“Well, being a big brother is a lot of ‘sponsibility.  I try to look after Sissy as best I can.”

“I know you do, Jamie.  You’re a great big brother.”

Jamie nodded.  “I try, so that’s why I want you to make sure Sissy is all right.  Promise me you’ll keep her safe.”  The boy’s lower lip quivered.  “You know she’s just a girl, and well, I’m her big brother, and brothers are supposed to take care of their little sisters.  If something happens to me, she won’t have anyone to watch out for her.” Tears streamed down the boy’s cheeks.   

Johnny put an arm around the slim shoulders and pulled the boy into his side.  “Shush now.  Nothing —”

“No!” He pushed Johnny away.  “Don’t tell me nothing’s gonna happen to us.  I know that ain’t true.  People…” Jamie’s breath caught.  “People die all the time.  Papa died, and then Mama.  Jonas died.  Everyone we’ve ever loved died except Miss Amy.  I couldn’t stand it if I didn’t do everything I could to make sure Sissy….”

Johnny reached for Jamie and pulled him back, letting the boy cry against his chest.

Sobbing, the boy pleaded, “Promise me, Johnny.  Please …”

“I promise.  I’ll do what I can to keep her … to keep both of you safe.”  Johnny blew out a breath and looked skyward, praying he would be able to keep his word. 

Jamie heaved one last sob and then stood up.  Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, the boy looked down at the pistolero he was counting on.  “It’s all I can ask, Johnny.  You do your best to keep her safe, and so will I.”

“Jamie!” Amy called from the stairwell to the basement.

Jamie looked around and then quickly back to Johnny.  “This is between us, Johnny.”  He extended his small hand.  “Man to man.  That alright with you?”

Johnny shook the hand and smiled.  “I understand, and yeah, just you and me—man to man.”

Jamie gave him a curt nod.

Amy stepped into the hotel foyer.  “Jamie, there you are.  You leave Johnny alone and come down.  You need to try to get some sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jamie responded, heading for the stairs without looking at her.

Amy looked at Johnny and frowned.  “Is he alright?”

“He’s…” Johnny searched for the right words without betraying the boy’s request.  “He’s worried about what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

Amy took a breath and nodded.  “So am I.  Those children are all I have in this world now.  To think I could lose them is more than I can bear.”  She walked to the window and peeked out from behind the curtain.  Dropping the curtain, she leaned against the wall. 

“See anything?” Johnny asked.

“No, just shadows.  Thank heaven none of them are moving,” she laughed.  “Johnny, what do you think will happen tomorrow?”

Johnny pushed up from the floor and stretched.  He’d been sitting so long his back was stiff and his legs almost numb.   “Honestly… I don’t know what’s gonna happen.  We’ll torch the livery stable and hope the cavalry patrol spots the smoke.  If that don’t work, everyone will take to the tunnels and meet at the entrance on the other side of town.   The stage will be there, waiting to get those who can’t ride headed toward Tucson.”

“Do you think we can outrun them?”

“If we have enough of a head start, yeah.”

From outside, there was the subtle creak of wood.  Someone was crossing the boardwalk in front of the saloon.  Johnny held up his hand to silence Amy.  He moved the curtain slightly in time to see movement in the moonlit street.  The Apache had come for their dead as he knew they would.  

“Stay quiet.  They’ll be gone in a few minutes.”

“But…”

Johnny shook his head and whispered, “It’s alright.”  Looking out on the street again, Johnny saw the last moving shadow slip into the darkness.  “Go on back downstairs and try to get some sleep.  They won’t attack at night.”

“We could try to leave now.  If they won’t attack—”

Johnny shook his head.  “They won’t attack, but I’m sure they have the town surrounded.  We wouldn’t get half a mile before they picked us off.”

“Johnny, I want to thank you for all you’ve done for us.  It was a lucky day when you rode into Midnight.”

Johnny smiled.  “Never had anyone think of me as ‘lucky’ before.”

“Well, now you have.”  She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.  “Goodnight, Johnny, and God bless you.”

Johnny watched Amy until she disappeared down the stairs to the basement. Then he turned and leaned against the wall.

“Lucky?” he laughed and ran a hand over his face.  “Yeah, real lucky.  Ride into an almost deserted town, looking for a place to hole up for a few days.  All I wanted was some peace and quiet, and I ended up tangling with the Apache.  Got all these people looking to me to keep them safe.   Hell, I’ll probably be dead this time tomorrow.  Yep, just damn lucky.”  

---

Thursday, July 23, 1868

As the first tinge of light crept over the horizon, Johnny stepped out of the hotel and looked around.  The eastern skyline was changing color, and the street running the length of Midnight, littered with bodies the night before, was now empty and eerily quiet.  He wished it would stay that way but knew that wasn’t going to happen. 

When the smell of fresh coffee wafted out the hotel’s front door, he smiled.  Leave it to Amy to make sure they had something to eat before all hell broke loose.  A few minutes later, the woman herself stepped outside with a steaming cup in her hand.

“I thought you might need this,” Amy said, handing him the cup.

“Thanks.”  Accepting the coffee, Johnny took a tentative sip and then blew on the surface of the black brew.  “I needed this.”

“I can tell,” she laughed.  “Did you get any sleep?”

Johnny shrugged.  “Dozed off a couple of times, but, no, not really.  Figure there will be plenty of time to sleep later.”

“When do you think they’ll come?”

Johnny looked to the east before answering.  “When the sun tops the mountains…about a half hour.”

Amy’s eyes followed Johnny’s.  From along the boardwalk, they saw Alex Stone hurrying toward them.

“Miss Amy.” Alex nodded.  “Is that coffee I smell?”

“It is,” she answered.  “I’ll get you a cup.  I made some biscuits and bacon, too, if you want some.  The children needed something to eat.”

“I don’t think I could eat a thing, but the coffee sure would be appreciated.”

“I’ll be right back.”

 Amy returned and handed a cup to Alex.

“Thank you.”  Alex tasted the coffee and smiled. “You make the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

“You just don’t like drinking Jonas’…” her voice trailed off, and her eyes filled with tears, thinking about her dead friend.

“Everything ready at the livery?” Johnny sipped his coffee, hoping to change the subject.

“It is.  We’ve also got all the spare wood we can find there.  We’ll douse the hay with kerosene when you give the word.  When do you want to torch it?”

“As soon as we know they’re headed this way, about a half hour.  After you set the blaze, get down in the tunnel and head toward the one leading to the hotel.  Amy and the kids are going to the tunnel entrance.  Is the stage ready?”

“It is,” Alex nodded.  “Frank’s there now.  He’ll make sure the stage horses are harnessed.  We’ve saddled the rest, including yours.”

“Good.  Now, let’s hope the cavalry patrol isn’t so far away that they can’t see the smoke.”

“And if they are?  I mean, if they don’t …”

“Johnny, we could stay in the tunnels until the Apache leave,” Amy added hopefully.

“We could and might just do that, but they ain’t stupid.  When we stop firing back, and they take the town, they’ll look for bodies.  When they don’t find any, they’ll tear this place apart until they find the tunnels.  Maybe the army will be here by then, but we can’t count on it.”

“I’ll get Jamie and Sissy to the tunnel entrance and wait for you.”

As Amy returned to the hotel, the sun was cresting the mountain range. 

Johnny finished his coffee and sat the cup on the arm of one of the chairs in front of the building.  “It won’t be long.  Get everyone in place.  We’ll fight as long as we can, but everyone needs to be in the tunnels when the fire starts to die out.”

Alex tossed the remains of his coffee into the street and sat his cup next to Johnny’s.  “Good luck, Madrid.  If we don’t…” he hesitated.  “Well, it’s been nice knowing you.  I want to thank you for your help.” 

Johnny accepted the hand Alex extended to him and nodded.  “Nice knowing you, too, but this ain’t over by a long shot.  Now, get on back to the livery.”

Johnny watched Alex until he entered the livery stable and closed the double doors behind him.  In the loft window, he saw two men with rifles, ready for what was to come.

They didn’t have to wait long.  The moment the sun tipped the mountain peaks and began to chase the dark shadows from the street, the ground vibrated under the pounding of horse’s hooves.

---

Unlike the day before, the war party split and came into town from both directions.  They announced their arrival with blood-curdling war cries.  

Gunfire echoed through the street. Johnny glanced over his shoulder and felt a surge of relief as he confirmed Amy and the children were nowhere in sight. Hopefully, they had already found their way to safety below in the hidden tunnels.

When the first Apache rode into view, Johnny opened fire.  A bare-chested warrior with white war paint covering his face and upper chest stopped in front of the hotel and fired through the curtained window.    

Johnny instinctively lowered his head as shards of glass flew through the air, stinging his face and the back of his left hand.  Reacting without a moment’s hesitation, he straightened up and focused his aim. In that fleeting moment, his eyes locked with those of the brave.    He wasn’t sure what he saw in the other man’s eyes.  All he knew was it was kill or be killed, and Johnny Madrid wasn’t ready to die.  

Johnny squeezed the trigger, and the warrior slumped over his horse’s neck. Another shot rang out, and the brave tumbled to the ground, surrounded by a cloud of swirling dust.

In the back of his mind, Johnny was wondering what was happening at the end of town.  Alex should have torched the livery by now…if he was still alive.  

“Come on, Alex…do it.”

As if hearing Johnny’s command, the unmistakable smell of smoke drifted through the broken windows, mingling with the acrid odor of gunpowder. A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he continued to fire and reload.    

Deep down, he wished for a miracle, hoping the dark, billowing smoke would catch the attention of the Army patrol and bring them to the rescue. He glanced skyward and whispered a plea to the heavens for help.    

Johnny heard something behind him.  Turning his gun towards the stairs to the basement, he held his breath and then let it out as Alex plowed through the door and landed next to him on the floor.

“Lit off the livery,” Alex heaved, out of breath.

“I noticed.”  Johnny rose and fired.  “What about the others?”

“Don’t know.  The gunfire let up down my way.  Not sure how many are left or if they’ve headed for the tunnels.”

Suddenly, the gunfire stopped, and the war cries faded. 

Alex raised his head and looked out the window.  “What’s going on?”

Johnny shook his head.  “Don’t know.  It looks like they’re gone.”

“Maybe they’ve given up.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. My guess is they’ve pulled out and will come in on foot this time.  They must know there aren’t a lot of us left.”  Johnny stood and moved to the doorway.  Stealing a quick glance down the street, he saw nothing.   Then, turning to Alex, he said, “Go on downstairs.  Make sure the horses and stage are ready.  I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Alright, but don’t wait too long.” 

---

The night before, Evan Miles pushed his men as hard as the horses allowed, but when darkness fell, he had no choice but to call a halt.   

The two men he’d left behind to bury the stage driver rode in shortly after making camp.  They reported seeing vultures further east and went to investigate.  They’d found another body and buried him.

“Any idea who he was?” Miles asked.

Private Bennett produced a wallet.  “Found this on him.  It says his name was Carl Stephens.”

Ian McGregor was listening to the two troopers’ report.  “Captain, I knew Stephens.  He worked for Butterfield Overton.   He was probably riding shotgun on the stage.”

Miles shook his head and looked west into the darkness.   “There’s nothing we can do until it’s light enough to ride on.  Everyone bed down.  We ride at dawn.”

Miles had thrown down his bedroll, but sleep hadn’t come.  Now, with only an hour before sunrise, he was anxious to move on.  If the people in Midnight needed help, they needed it now. Miles was ready to give the order to roust the men when he heard Sherwood gasp.  

Following the Lieutenant’s gaze, Miles saw a bright glow crowned with red and orange in the dark western sky.   His heart fell.  It could only mean one thing: Midnight was burning.

“Mount up!”   

The troopers were mounted and heading to Midnight faster than Miles thought possible.

As the sun rose, a thick column of black smoke billowed upward.  Miles looked over his shoulder and pumped his right arm, urging his men to ride even faster.   

---

The gunfire had stopped, and Johnny figured the Apache would be coming in on foot, going building to building.  He waited a tense ten minutes.  Long enough, he thought, for everyone—everyone who was left alive to get to the tunnel entrance.  He fired off a couple more shots and then abandoned his position.

Going through the door to the basement, he closed it behind him and hurried down the stairs.  He tripped on the last two steps and found himself falling into the dark, musty space.   Looking around, he cursed himself for not coming down here earlier.  He had no idea where the tunnel entrances were. 

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a faint light peeking out from behind a blanket on the far wall. Raising the blanket revealed the tunnel entrance and a glowing lantern the others had left for him.

Johnny grabbed the lantern and started following the tunnel. Surprisingly, there was room for him to stand upright during most of the length of the tunnel, and the ground under his feet was free of debris. Still, he hated…hated dark, closed-in spaces.

By the time he saw light in the distance, his heart was pounding, and he was breathing hard.  When he could see, Johnny blew out the lantern and breathed a sigh of relief.  He stepped out of the darkness and felt something slam into him.

“Johnny!” Sissy threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his waist.  “I’ve been watching for you.  I thought you got lost.”

“I didn’t get lost.  I just followed the tunnel.”

Sissy smiled up at him. “We made sure you had a light.”

“I know, and thank you.”

Alex walked over and patted Johnny on the back.  “We were getting a little worried about you, boy.”

Johnny looked around at the few remaining men.  “How many left?”

Alex lowered his head. “There’s fourteen of us, counting Miss Amy, the young’uns.  You make fifteen.”

“We lost that many?”

“Afraid so.”                                                                                                                

Johnny took a deep breath.  It was worse than he thought.  They’d started the day with twenty-nine people.  Now they were down to fourteen —fifteen counting him, and three of those couldn’t fight.

Now wasn’t the time to worry about the losses or mourn them.

“How many wounded in the coach?”

Alex glanced over his shoulder at the stagecoach.  “Four.”

Johnny nodded.  “So, we have eight, nine counting me; who can handle a gun?”

“That’s it.”

“Alright.  Alex, you drive.”

Johnny reached down and picked up Sissy.  “Amy, get on board with Jamie and Sissy.”

“Miss Amy has everything in the stagecoach.” Sissy looked around with a frown on her face. “Johnny—”

“Sissy, we have to go now.” Amy took the girl from Johnny and carried her to the stage.

Sissy struggled to get down. “No! I can’t go… I have to go back.”

“There’s no time.  Whatever it is, we’ll come back when it’s safe.”

Sissy continued to fight to get down, but Amy kept a tight hold on the squirming child. She handed Sissy off to Alex.

Johnny walked out of the tunnel, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the bright morning sunlight.   Stepping about thirty feet away, he turned around to take in his surroundings and got a good look at the tunnel entrance for the first time.

The landscape was rugged, with a rocky hillside covered with cactus and chaparral.  The opening was hidden at the base of the hill, obscured by brown netting and scrub. Inside the tunnel, the walls had been widened, and a corral was constructed to hold the town’s horses.  To the right of the tunnel stood a rock wall, three feet high and ten feet long, built by the residents of Midnight to provide cover for those who would protect the entrance.

To an unsuspecting passerby, the mine entrance would have been easy to miss.

The stagecoach stood off to the left, waiting for Johnny’s signal before making a dash toward Tucson.   Alex pulled a tattered hat over his eyes as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Your horse is over there,” Frank Thompson said as he picked up a rifle.

Johnny looked behind the stage to see his horse saddled and waiting for him.

“You think we should head out?” Alex asked.  “It don’t look like the cavalry’s coming.”

Johnny turned to look into the tunnel.  Should he tell them to go or not?  No.  Not unless the Apache finds them. But…then it may be too late.  

As he looked towards the stage, Johnny noticed Sissy and Jamie staring at him from the windows.  Next to the window, the ominous sight of bullet holes served as a haunting reminder of the coach’s last passengers.

“Alex, take half the men with you—head to Tucson.  The rest of us will stay here. If the Apache figure out where we went, we’ll be here to keep them busy.  Hopefully, that’ll give you enough of a head start.”   

Alex Stone nodded.  “Good luck, Johnny.”

“We all need some luck today, Alex.”

“And prayer,” Amy added.  “And prayer.”

Frank Thompson climbed onto the stage and settled into the seat beside Alex. Of the seven remaining able-bodied men, three took to their horses.

Amy was being helped into the coach and stopped.  She quickly turned and ran to Johnny.  Leaning into him, she placed a kiss on his cheek.  “Thank you, Johnny.”

Johnny blushed.  “Get on board, and take care of Sissy and Jamie.  I’ll catch up with you when I can.”

She nodded and hurried to the stage.  Once she was inside and the door closed, Alex looked at Johnny.

“When you move out, take it slow at first,” Johnny said.  “Don’t go stirring up any more dust than you have to.  When you get a good mile out of town, whip them up.  It’s forty miles to Tucson, so pace yourself.”

Alex looked at the southeastern sky, where familiar clouds were forming.  “Rain’s coming.”

Johnny looked up and nodded.  “A storm would cover the noise of the stage and settle the dust.  Might even convince the Apache to hole up until it’s over.”

“Well?  You want us to go now?”

Johnny bit his lower lip. He looked at Amy, Sissy, and Jamie.  He’d made promises to each of them to keep the others safe.  Could he keep them safe where they were or …  Hell, he didn’t know what to do.  Indecision wasn’t something he was used to, but it wasn’t just his life at stake this time. 

“There’s someone in the tunnel!” 

Johnny didn’t know who made the announcement, but now the decision was out of his hands.

“Get out of here, Alex.  I’ll see you in Tucson.”

Alex flicked the reins.  The stage, with its precious cargo, began a steady roll westward towards Tucson and Camp Lowell. 

Sissy leaned out the coach window waving.  “Bye, Johnny…bye.”

---

Johnny drew his Colt and motioned for the three men who’d stayed with him to take cover. They crouched behind the low stone wall facing the mine, waiting to see who would step from the dark tunnel.  It wasn’t long before they found out. 

They saw the glow of a lit torch first. 

Johnny held his hand up, silencing the men. “Hold your fire until they’re all out of the tunnel.”

They waited, guns at the ready, their hearts racing, their breaths held. Then, from behind the netting, a blood-covered man stumbled into the clearing and fell.

Someone yelled, “Hold your fire.  It’s Al Edwards.”

One of the men left the cover of the wall and ran to Edwards.  Leaning over, he placed a hand on the wounded man’s chest.  After a few moments, he looked up and shook his head.  “He’s dead.”

The four men looked at each other, and then three sets of eyes fell on Johnny.  The oppressive, hot morning air settled around them. There was no sound, no movement; it was as if every living creature in the desert knew something these men didn’t.

The relief of a moment earlier when there were no Indians to face quickly vanished.

Johnny’s heart began to pound in his chest, and he felt a tightness that stole his breath away.  If the Apache weren’t here, then where—? 

It finally hit him, as if someone had punched him in the gut— the full impact of his actions. He had sent the stage on for no reason.

His mind was reeling—what else could he have done?  Everyone thought it was Apache coming through the tunnel.  He’d done what anyone else would have done—hadn’t he?

Johnny gazed toward the heavens with a whispered prayer, “Dios, por favor. Please let them be alright.”

The distant, barely discernible crackle of gunfire wafted through the air from the west of town.

“They’re after the stage.”  Johnny holstered his gun and ran to his horse.   Swinging into the saddle, he kicked the horse into a gallop.

Johnny and the men with him rode toward the gunfire.  When they reached the road leading west out of Midnight, they could see the trail littered with bodies and a dozen Apache gaining on the stage. 

Urging his horse to run faster, Johnny closed in from the rear on the war party.  Aiming, he fired.  The brave in the rear tumbled from his horse.  He fired two more shots, and two more warriors fell.

Finally, realizing what was happening, the Apache slowed and dropped back to regroup, giving Johnny the opportunity to catch up with the stagecoach.

He was almost even with the stage when he saw a man tumble from the driver’s seat and knew it was Frank Thompson.

The sound of the two children’s panicked cries filled the air.

“Mierda.” Johnny spurred his horse to move faster as the runaway horses pulled the driverless stagecoach along the rutted road.

Determined to reach them, Johnny guided his horse closer to the careening coach. Coming alongside, he reached out to grab the top rail with his right hand, then kicked out of the stirrups and let his horse move from under him. 

He clung to the side of the coach for a moment, feeling the smooth texture of the metal rail against his sweating palms.  Summing all his strength, he hauled himself up, every muscle straining with the effort.  Finally, with one swift motion, he swung his leg up and found himself perched on top. There was no time to catch his breath.  Clamoring across the stage’s top, he rolled into the driver’s seat and reached for the reins still clutched in Alex Stone’s dead hands.

The horses didn’t need whipping.  They were already running as fast as they could; foam flew from their mouths, covering Johnny’s shirt and swirling past his head.

The few men from Midnight who were left alive rode ahead while his own riderless horse still kept pace with the stagecoach.

Bullets pinged off the stage, sending wood splinters flying.  Ducking, he flicked the reins, trying to get a little more speed out of the tired horses. 

Johnny looked over his right shoulder.  The braves were gaining ground.   Then, two of them flanked the stage.  Johnny drew his gun and fired, taking out the one on his right.  He fired at the other warrior, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop the arrow headed his way.

When the arrow pierced his left thigh, an intense surge of pain tore through his body, causing him to momentarily lose his grip on the reins.  Summoning all his strength, he regained control, suppressed the pain, and focused on saving those inside the coach.

Determined to keep the horses moving and fighting down the pain in his leg, Johnny didn’t see the rock in their path; even if he had, there was no way of avoiding it.  The stage’s right front wheel rolled over it, throwing the coach’s weight to the left.  The rear wheel followed the front.  He couldn’t prevent what happened next any more than he could have stopped the wind or rain or the sun from rising.  

As the coach began to roll, screams filled the air.   Johnny threw himself to the left and tumbled head over heels, his head slamming against the rocky, hard-packed ground.  His scream joined the others when the shaft of the arrow snapped off, pushing the arrowhead deeper into his thigh.

He awoke with a jolt, unsure of how much time had passed. Slowly opening his eyes, he found himself gazing up at the endless expanse of a cloudless blue sky. As he turned his head, his eyes fell upon the overturned wreckage of the stagecoach. The only sound that reached his ears in the eerie stillness was the faint squeak of the coach’s spinning rear wheel.

Rolling onto his stomach, he reached for his gun, thanking God he’d held onto it during his fall.  Scrabbling to his feet, he wiped blood from his eyes and limped toward the coach.

Taking cover, he opened fire, making every shot count, but knowing his gun alone wouldn’t hold them off for long.

To his surprise, the men racing ahead saw what was happening and turned back.  Soon, four guns were blazing.  Still, as one Indian after another fell, Johnny didn’t hold out much hope. 

He dropped down to reload his gun when the faint notes of a bugle carried by the wind crossed the desert.  

“The cavalry!” Someone called out.  “They’re coming.”

Johnny closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the solid wood of the coach. Taking a breath and fighting off the pain from his wound, he said, “I hear ‘em.  Keep firing.”

If the Apache heard, they weren’t showing signs of it. 

Johnny raised to take a shot.  He was taken by surprise when a bullet hit him in the left shoulder, spinning him around.  He slid behind the stagecoach, fighting to stay conscious.

Johnny didn’t know when things changed, but suddenly, he caught a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye.  Turning his head, he saw Ian McGregor on his right, raising up and firing.

The Sergeant looked at him and gave him a brief smile. 

“Mac.  How did you get here?”

McGregor rose up, fired, and ducked down before answering, “Madrid, you could teach the Apache a few things about sending up smoke signals.” 

“You saw the fire…the smoke.”

McGregor fired again.  “No way to miss it. Anyone within twenty miles would have had to be blind to miss it.” 

Johnny grinned.  “You got here awful quick.”

“We were already on the way.”

Johnny didn’t have time to question the Sergeant before another volley of shots hit the coach.

Several troopers charged past the coach and then wheeled around. Dismounting, they kneeled and started firing.

William Sherwood threw himself off his horse and hurried to join Johnny and McGregor.    He looked at Johnny and gave him a quick nod. “Mr. Madrid.”

Johnny gave the Lieutenant a brief nod.  The firing continued for a few minutes when they heard the bugle again.

All firing stopped.  The Indians wheeled around and looked back towards Midnight before riding off to the south.

Johnny leaned against the coach and took a moment to take stock of his injuries.   Looking down at his leg, he could see the small stem of the arrow’s shaft poking through his leather calzoneras.  There wasn’t as much blood as he thought there would be.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, and his hand came away with blood on it.  He felt his forehead and found a cut over his left eye.  Blood streamed down his face and onto his shirt, already saturated from the bullet wound in his shoulder.

It took every ounce of strength left in him to stumble around the side of the stagecoach. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and he dreaded what he would find in the wreckage.

With one glance, he felt his belly roll and bile surge to his throat.  He shut his eyes tightly and sank to his knees, praying that when he opened them again, the horrifying scene would miraculously vanish as if it had never happened. 

The seven people inside the stage had been thrown clear when it overturned.  Three of the wounded men, their bodies twisted and covered with blood, lay a few feet away.  The fourth man was half in, half out of the opened door.

Johnny managed to get to his feet and frantically searched for Amy and the children.  When he saw Jamie’s unmoving body lying to his right and Amy and Sissy off to his left, his heart began to break.  If he hadn’t had a firm hold on the overturned stage, he would have gone to the ground again.   

Lowering his head, he stifled a sob with pain in his heart as bad as any wound he’d ever had.  He had done this.  If he hadn’t sent the stage out when he did, they might still—

Wait. Did Jamie’s hand twitch?  A rush of relief washed over him as he staggered to reach the boy, dragging his useless leg along.

Ignoring the pain shooting through his left shoulder, Johnny sank to the ground next to Jamie and gently lifted the boy in his arms.   “Jamie?”   

The boy’s eyes fluttered open.  “Johnny,” the small voice whispered.

“I’m here.  You lay still.” As hot tears seared his eyes, Johnny wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of the boy’s mouth.   “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

“Sissy,” Jamie moaned.  “Johnny, is Sissy…?”

Johnny glanced to his right.  Amy lay on the ground a few feet from the wreckage, holding Sissy in her arms.  He couldn’t tell if they were alive or dead.

“Sissy’s alright,” Johnny prayed he wasn’t lying to the boy.

“Thanks, Johnny.”   There was a faint smile on the young-dirt-streaked face.  “I knew I could count on you.”

Johnny closed his eyes, fighting back tears.  He barely heard someone move next to him.

“How is he?”

Johnny turned to look at Ian McGregor, unable to understand what the man was saying.

The sergeant shook his shoulder.  “Madrid?”

Johnny looked blankly at the man.  “What…?”

“I’ll take him.”  McGregor reached for Jamie, but Johnny clutched the small boy to his chest.

“No.  I made …I made a promise.  I have to…” He had to make sure Jamie was…  He couldn’t think straight.  What was he supposed to do?   

“It’s all right now, lad.  You can let him go.”

“No…I can’t let him go.”  Then, turning, his eyes fell on McGregor’s face.  “You’ll help him, Mac?  I promised, but…”

“Give him to me, Johnny.  I’ll help him.”

Johnny only nodded and let Jamie slip from his arms.   Looking at McGregor, he frowned.  “You’re bleeding, Mac.”

“It’s nothing.”  McGregor put a hand over his shoulder wound.  “I forgot to duck.”

Johnny gave him a faint smile.  “Seems to be a lot of that going around today.”  He looked around.  “Amy and Sissy, have you checked on them?”

McGregor glanced over his shoulder and nodded.  Troopers had lifted Amy Sutter and Sissy and carried them to the shade of the overturned coach.  “There being tended to, lad.”

Nature seized that moment to make its presence known. A bolt of lightning sizzled across the sky, and rain poured down as if the heavens were weeping for all the souls lost that day.

Johnny’s first thought was that the rain would put out their signal fire, but then he remembered it didn’t matter any longer. There were others there now—other men leaning over him and looking after the other wounded.

Knowing there was nothing he could do, Johnny Madrid closed his eyes and spiraled into darkness.

---

Lt. Colonel Thomas C. Devin sat behind his desk, working on the endless paperwork that seemed to plague his life, and swatted at the biting flies that never seemed to go away.       

After a distinguished career in the Union Army, the six-foot-tall, forty-six-year-old Devin found himself in the scorching heat of Arizona’s Camp Lowell on the outskirts of Tucson. His command, comprised of 239 men and 13 officers of the 1st Cavalry and 32nd Infantry, was tasked with defending the southern part of the Arizona territory from the relentless attacks of the Apache.

Pushing his chair back, he stood and stretched. Turning, he examined the map of the territory that hung behind him.  Not for the first time, he was struck by the harsh reality of the vast expanse of the Arizona Territory.  It was a land where Army camps and forts were few and far between.

After a futile battle with the flies, he gave up, stepped outside, and took a deep breath of much-needed fresh air.  The heat was oppressive, but the tall ramadas supported by poles built over the tents provided shade and offered some relief from the sun’s constant rays.

The sound of horses and a swirling cloud of dust drew the Colonel’s attention to the east. B Company was returning from patrol.   He started to go back to his tent when he realized the cavalry unit was moving slower than expected.

Devin walked out from under the ramada’s protection to get a better look.  The column’s leader, Captain Evan Miles, saw him and motioned his men to continue without him.

Evans came to a stop in front of Devin and saluted.  “Colonel.”

“Captain,” Devin replied while watching the bedraggled column move across the parade ground.  “Trouble?”

Miles dismounted and nodded.  “Yes, Sir.”  Miles turned to watch his men ride by.

“Short story.”

Miles gave his commander a brief smile before his face turned serious.  “A Chiricahua war party attacked the Tucson stage. Driver, shotgun, and passengers killed.”

“Damn,” Devin shook his head and sighed. Then, seeing the expression on the Captain’s face, he said, “I take it there’s more?”

“Yes, Sir.  They also attacked the small mining town at the foot of the Rincons.”

“Midnight?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Devin ran a hand over his thick mustache.  “Casualties?”

Miles heaved a heavy sigh and nodded.  “Most of those who were there were killed.  One building burned,” he smiled.  “The residents set fire to it themselves to signal us.  It worked, too, but we were already headed back to Midnight after finding the dead driver.”  The smile vanished.  “We buried the civilian dead in Midnight.  Our dead are in the wagons.  All the wounded were dropped off at the hospital in town.  Doc Lauderdale is working on them.”

“How many?”

Miles knew what the Colonel was asking.  Tiredly, he answered.  “I lost five men.”

The Colonel looked past Miles at the men still going by.  “Lieutenant Sherwood?”

“Among the wounded.  He caught a bullet in his arm.   Sergeant McGregor is also at the hospital.”

“Very well. Get cleaned up and something to eat.  I’ll expect your full report on my desk in the morning.”

“Yes, Sir,” Miles snapped to attention and saluted.  As he turned to lead his horse away, he stopped.  “Sir, I think you’ll be interested in who was in Midnight helping to fight off the Apache.”

“Who?”

“Ever hear of Johnny Madrid?”

Devin’s eyes widened.  “The gunfighter?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“He among the dead or the wounded?”

“Wounded.  I don’t know if he’ll live.  From what we were told, if Madrid hadn’t been there, there wouldn’t have been any survivors at all.”

“Really?  That’s interesting.”

“Yes, Sir.  I thought you should know.  It won’t take long for word to get around Madrid’s in the hospital and laid up.  We might have some trouble.”

“Townspeople?”

Miles shook his head.  “Other gunfighters.”

Devin thought for a moment.  “Put a guard outside the hospital.  As long as Madrid is there, no one gets near him.”

“Understood.” 

---

Dr. John V. Lauderdale’s day started as usual. He saw only two cases of troopers complaining of blisters: one on his feet and the other on his rear end.  A half hour ago, one of his orderlies, Corporal Travis Jamison, rushed in to tell him Troop B was returning with casualties.

Now, he stood outside the wooden two-story structure in Tucson that the Army had leased for use as Camp Lowell’s hospital. 

As the number of wounded soldiers and civilians being carried inside mounted, he wished he had more than two orderlies to help him.

“Doc, this one’s hurt bad,” Corporal Jamison said as a stretcher was carried in.

Doctor Lauderdale held up his hand.  “Hold on a minute.” 

He bent over the dark-haired man, lifted the blood-stained bandage on his shoulder, and nodded.  “Shoulder wound.”   Then he directed his attention to the head wound, wrapped in another blooded bandage. 

“He got an arrow in his leg, too, Doc,” Ian McGregor said as he was helped into the hospital.

“Sergeant, you’re wounded—”

“Nothing that can’t wait, Doc.” McGregor held up his good arm.  “Johnny needs your help more than I do.” 

“You know him?”

“Aye, I do.” McGregor’s legs gave way, and he slumped against the man holding him up. 

“Get him inside.” The doctor waved at the trooper holding McGregor.

“Just take care of him, Doc.  If it weren’t for Johnny, none of the people from Midnight would be alive.”

“I’ll do my best.  Now, get inside and lie down.  I’ll get to you as soon as I can.”

As McGregor passed by, Doctor Lauderdale raised the blanket covering Johnny’s lower body.  He flipped aside the unbuttoned calzoneras.  The bandage covering the leg wound was saturated with fresh blood.

“I need to operate on him right away.  Take him to my surgery.  Corporal Jamison, make sure all my instruments are ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” Jamison responded and directed the troopers carrying the stretcher through the building to a small room at the rear of the building.

Settling the stretcher on the table, Jamison began to assemble the necessary surgical instruments for the doctor.   He was about to turn to the door to let the doctor know everything was ready when his patient stirred, let out a moan, and his eyes fluttered open.

“Take it easy, Mister.  The doctor will be here in a minute.  He’ll get you fixed up.”

Johnny turned his head to look at the man talking to him, a man he didn’t recognize.  He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry, and his throat closed up.  Finally, he was able to cough, “Who…?” 

Corporal Jamison answered, “I’m Doctor Lauderdale’s orderly.”    He could see the confusion in the man’s eyes.  “You’re at the hospital in Tucson.”

Johnny closed his eyes tightly, and his breath caught.  “No… No…  Midnight.”

“Troop B brought you and the other wounded in from Midnight.”   

Johnny tried to understand what the young man dressed in white was trying to tell him.

“You’re hurt real bad, Mister…  What’s your name?”

“Madrid,” Johnny whispered.  “Johnny Madrid.”

The young man’s eyes widened, and his hands stilled.   “Madrid?  Holy mokum.”

Johnny turned his head away, then turned back.  “The others… what about the others?”

“Everyone they brought in is being taken care of.”

“How is he?” Doctor Lauderdale walked into the room. 

“Awake, Doctor.  He’s asking about the others.  I told him they were being taken care of.”

“That’s right, young man.  Right now, we need to take care of you.”  The Doctor put on an apron and tied it around his waist, then turned to the table.   “Corporal, open the window a bit and start the ether.”

Johnny tried to get off the table.  “No…no ether.”

“I’m sorry, son, but it’s all I have to keep you out while I operate.”

“My…gun.  I need…”

“You won’t need your gun here.”  Lauderdale looked at Jamison impatiently.  “Let’s get him under.”

A tap at the door caused the doctor to turn. Outside the door, an armed trooper stood with a rifle in his hand.

“Private, what’s this about?”

“Colonel Devon’s orders, doctor.  We’re to stand guard outside until Madrid is released.”

“Madrid?” Lauderdale looked from the trooper at the door to his orderly.

“That’s right, doctor,” Jamison said.  “He said his name is Johnny Madrid.”

Lauderdale cocked his head and looked at the boy on the table.  “You’re sure?”

The trooper answered for the orderly.  “That’s right, Sir.”

“Well, he’s not going to be causing a problem for some time.”

“We aren’t worried about Madrid causing trouble, Sir.  We’re supposed to make sure no one bothers Madrid while he’s in the hospital.”

“We?  Just how many men did the Colonel send?”

“Two, Sir.  There’s a man at the front door as well.”

Lauderdale cleared his throat. “Well, you have your duty, and I have mine.  Stay outside, Private.”

“Yes, Sir.” The guard stepped out of the room and shut the door.

Doctor Lauderdale nodded to his orderly.  Corporal Jamison carefully positioned a cloth-lined metal cone over Johnny’s nose and mouth, gradually allowing ether to trickle onto it.

Johnny caught a whiff of the foul-smelling liquid and found the strength to turn his head violently.  “No!”  

Doctor Lauderdale held his patient’s shoulders down while Jamison struggled to position the cone again.  It only took a moment before the drug began to take effect.

Johnny’s words were no more than a whisper, “Got to help…Ammmy.”

“What did he say?” Jamison asked, letting another drop of ether fall.

“I couldn’t make it out.”  As Johnny relaxed, the doctor breathed a sigh of relief.  “Finally.”

The smell of ether filled the room. “Open the window all the way, Jamison, and open the door.  Too much of this stuff, and I’ll be asleep next.”

The Corporal turned, pushed the window sash fully open, and swung open the door. The guard on the other side looked over his shoulder and grimaced as the smell of ether whiffed out.   

After a moment, the doctor nodded. “That’s better.”  Then, reaching for a scalpel, he looked at the orderly.  “Alright, Corporal, let’s start with the leg.”

Three hours passed before the doctor dropped his surgical instruments and stepped back. 

“I’ve done all I can.  It’s up to him now.  Finish up for me, Travis.  I need to look at our other patients.”

Jamison put a hand on Johnny’s forehead.  “He’s started a fever.”

“It’s to be expected.  Let’s hope he can fight it off.  Otherwise…”

The doctor didn’t have to finish the sentence.  Travis Jamison knew that more men died of infection and fever than they did from the initial wound.

---

Travis Jamison made his rounds, going from bed to bed.  All the rooms in the small hospital were full, but this one housed the four men who were hurt the worst.

He stood by Johnny Madrid’s bedside and gently lifted his right arm to check his pulse. After noting how weak it was, he carefully lowered the arm and shook his head in concern. The fever that had gripped the young man for the past four days had finally subsided, but it had left him visibly weakened.

Taking a glass of water from the bedside table, he lifted Johnny’s head and pressed the glass to the younger man’s lips.  Jamison smiled when he was able to get a few drops into Johnny’s mouth and watched him swallow it.

“How’s he doing?” A voice from across the room caused the orderly to jerk, spilling some of the water onto his patient’s chest. 

Jamison lowered Johnny back onto the bed and then turned to look at Ian McGregor.  “Better.  The fever’s down, and he took a little water.”  He quickly took a towel from the table and wiped his patient’s face and chest.

Jamison walked across the room to stand beside McGregor’s bed.  “How do you feel today, Sergeant?”

“Better.  When do you think the Doc is going to let me go?”

Jamison smiled.  “You had a pretty bad fever yourself.  Give it time.”

McGregor laid his head back and frowned.  Well, he really didn’t feel like walking out under his own steam right then, so he resigned himself to staying put.  At least this way, he could watch over Johnny.

Just yesterday, he’d heard a noise and caught a young boy of about fourteen climbing through the window into the room.  He’d called for the guard stationed at the front door, who quickly took the youngster forcibly by the arm and escorted him out of the hospital.  Later, Corporal Jamison told him the boy was from the town and was acting on a dare from his friends to get a look at Johnny Madrid.

They’d had a laugh about the incident, but both knew it could have been worse.  It hadn’t been the first time someone had tried to get close to the famous pistolero.  More than one gunfighter had also tried their luck at getting past the guards set up by Colonel Devin.   

Relaxing, McGregor closed his eyes and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

---

Johnny gradually woke, his eyelids fluttering open to the harsh glare of bright light.  He quickly shut them again, disoriented and unsure of his surroundings.  The hush enveloping him was a stark contrast to the chaos of the desert outside Midnight.  Gone were the terrifying echoes of raiding Apache and the acrid scent of burning buildings and spent gunpowder.  In their place, he detected only the peaceful fragrance of fresh, crisp linens.

Looking around the room, Johnny saw Ian McGregor sleeping in a bed on the other side of the room.  Beside him was one of the men who’d stayed behind with him at the tunnel entrance.  He knew there had been a fourth man there, but he must have been discharged already.

Trying to keep his eyes open, he fought back a yawn.  Deciding it took too much energy, he closed his eyes and slept. 

When Johnny woke again, he knew there was something he was supposed to remember, but he couldn’t for the life of him bring it to mind. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Whatever it was could wait.

Then, he caught a whiff of lilac and heard someone whisper his name, “Johnny.”

As his eyelids fluttered open, he was greeted by the sight of a dark figure standing in the dimly lit room, its silhouette outlined by the golden rays of the setting sun filtering through the window. Blinking, it didn’t take long for him to recognize the person, and a smile brightened his face.

“Amy, is that you?”

“That’s right, Johnny.  It’s me.”  She gave him a radiant smile.

“Jamie?  Sissy?  Are they—”

“Hush, Johnny.”  A gentle finger brushed his lips. “They’re right here with me. They’re safe.”

Two smaller figures came into focus, standing next to Amy. 

“Hey there, Johnny.”

“Hey, Jamie.  You alright?”

“Sure am, and so is Sissy.  We came to thank you for all you did for us.”  

Sissy’s smile faded.  “Johnny, I lost Mary Ann somewhere.  Miss Amy wouldn’t let me go back for her.”

“Don’t worry.  I’ll find her for you.”

Sissy looked up at Amy.  “You said he’d bring Mary Ann back to me.”

“Yes, dear.  Johnny will find Mary Ann, I’m sure of it.”  She smiled at the children and Johnny one more time.  “It’s time we were going, Johnny.  We wanted to see you before we left.”

“But where…?”

She held up a hand to quiet him.  “You’ve been very sick, and you need to rest.”

“But…” Johnny tried to sit up.  “Where are you going?  Will you be here when I get out of here?”  Then looking at Sissy, he said, “I need to know where to bring Mary Ann.”

“We’ll be here.  Don’t you worry none, and when you find Mary Ann, you’ll know where to bring her.  Now, go to sleep, young man.”   

Johnny closed his eyes for a moment.  When he opened them again, the sun blinked out, the room was plunged into darkness, and he was alone.  Too tired to do anything else, he drifted off to sleep.  

---

It had been more than three weeks since Johnny was carried into the Army Hospital in Tucson. He couldn’t remember much of the trip or the surgery. The days that followed piled one upon the other, but with each day, he felt his strength returning.   Today, with any luck, Doc Lauderdale would let him go.

The hospital ward was small and seemed even smaller, with four single beds crowded into the space. However, thankfully, two of them were empty now.

Ian McGregor lay in the far corner, bandages wrapped around his left shoulder and chest, staring at Johnny.  “You supposed to be up?”

Johnny smiled, “I’m getting out of here today.”

“That so?” McGregor laughed.

“Yep.” Johnny pushed to his feet.  The left leg was stiff, but nothing he couldn’t handle.  Turning, he looked at McGregor.  “When you getting out of here, Mac?”

“It’s up to the doctor, but I’m thinking a couple more days.”

Johnny nodded.   “I think the army will be glad to see me gone.  The guard outside ain’t too happy standing watch over me.”

“You headed back to Mexico?”

“Thought about it.  Seems a hell of a lot safer down there than it is here,” Johnny laughed.

“I don’t know, lad.  You’re at the top of your game now, but…”  McGregor didn’t need to finish the sentence. 

“Hell, Mac, I know that.  My time will come, but I’m not worrying about it.”  Johnny looked around for his clothes.  “I’m getting dressed.”

Gingerly easing his pants over his legs, Johnny took a breath and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You gonna be alright?”

“Sure, just fine.” He licked his lips and wiped the sweat from his forehead.  “It may take me a few minutes, but I’ll make it.”   

“Sure, you will.”

---

John Lauderdale walked through his hospital, checking each patient.  Most of those who were wounded in Midnight had been released. 

Now that Madrid was well enough to be discharged, the doctor breathed a sigh of relief. The news had quickly circulated that Johnny Madrid was being treated at the Army Hospital in Tucson. On multiple occasions, the guard stationed by Colonel Devin forcefully discouraged entry to men who attempted to ‘visit’ the renowned gunfighter.

Lauderdale walked into Johnny’s room and was relieved to find the young man already seated on the edge of his bed, fully clothed and prepared to be discharged.

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

“Morning, Doc.”  Before the doctor could say another word, Johnny splurted out, “You gonna let me out of here today?”

“That’s the plan,” Lauderdale laughed.  “You’ll still have to take it easy on your leg for a few weeks, but I don’t see a reason you can’t be discharged.   Now, flex your left arm for me.”

Johnny did as he was told but winced when the muscles protested the movement.  On seeing the doctor’s frown, he said, “It ain’t nothing I can’t handle, Doc.”

“Perhaps, but…”  Lauderdale’s frown deepened, and then stepped back.  “I’m not happy with the way your shoulder wound is healing.   Can you stand up?”

Johnny gingerly stood and got his balance.

“I’m going to discharge you, but do me a favor and stay in town a few days.  If you start having any problems, come back to see me.   In fact, before you leave town, I want you to stop by and let me change your bandages.”

Johnny picked up his rig, wrapped it around his hips, and buckled it down. 

Lauderdale handed Johnny his hat.  “Oh, and I believe Colonel Devin wants to see you.  Make sure you see him also.  Understood?”

Johnny nodded.  “I’ll make sure I see him.”

Lauderdale smiled.  “And…?”

Reluctantly, Johnny said, “Alright, I’ll come by and let you change the bandages.”

“Good.  Now, you can go.”

“Is my horse still over at the livery in town?”

“As far as I know.  The troopers brought it in with the other horses they rounded up.”  Lauderdale stepped forward with his hand extended.  “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Johnny Madrid.   I wish it had been under better circumstances.”

“Nice meeting you, too, Doc.” Johnny shook the doctor’s hand.  Then, turning to McGregor, he said, “I’ll be seeing you, Mac.”

“Take care, Johnny, and don’t forget to watch your back.”

“I’ll do that.  I’ll see you the next time I’m through this way.” 

After three weeks in a small room with one window, Johnny was ready to be out in the open.  He walked out of the hospital into a bright sun.  Squinting, he settled his hat on his head and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh air.  

Stepping into the street, he braced himself when a sharp pang shot through his left leg.   He’d expected it to hurt and wasn’t disappointed.  His leg wasn’t the only thing that was hurting.  He tucked his left hand in his belt to relieve the stress on his shoulder.

Looking around, he decided his first stop would be the livery stable to check on his horse.  Twenty minutes later, he headed for the cantina, ready for a decent meal and a stiff drink.  

Walking into the cool darkness of the cantina, Johnny paused at the door and scanned the room.  He smiled when he saw it was almost deserted.  The way he felt, he wasn’t looking for trouble and couldn’t handle it if he found any.

He strolled across the dimly lit room, the quiet echo of his footsteps and spurs ringing along with the chatter and clinking glasses. As he reached the worn wooden bar, he casually leaned against it; his posture relaxed yet confident.  Turning, he quickly surveyed the room, again reassuring himself that there was no threat.  

“What can I get you, mister…?”  The bartender’s eyes widened.  “Mr. Madrid.”

For a moment, the old man behind the bar reminded him of Jonas.  Johnny gave the man a faint smile.  “Tequila and something to eat.”

“Sure thing.”  A full bottle of tequila appeared on the bar, along with a glass.   “We have tamales and frijoles.”

Johnny took the bottle and turned it in his hand, thinking about the one he’d left behind in Midnight.

“Mr. Madrid?”

Johnny’s head snapped up.  “Yeah.  That’s fine.  I’ll be over there.” He pointed to the round table in the back corner.

“Yes, sir.”

Picking up the glass, Johnny strolled across the room, kicked out a chair, and eased down, his back to the wall.   Uncorking the tequila, he poured a glass and stared at it.   

The bartender delivered his food and backed away. 

Before he got back to the bar, Johnny looked up.  “You still got any rooms upstairs?”

The man stopped and nodded.  “Sure do.  You gonna stay for a while?”

“For a few days.  I need one overlooking the street.”

“I can make that happen.”

Johnny nodded, scooted up to the table, and picked up the fork. When the cantina’s door opened again, he looked up and saw the glint of light off a badge. 

Sheriff Carl Wilson set his sights on Johnny and came straight to him.   “Madrid.”

Johnny sighed and set his fork down.  He leaned back in his chair, eyes meeting the man behind the badge.  “Sheriff.”

“I heard the army doctor let you go.”

“That’s right.”

“You planning on staying in town?”

“For a few days.”  Johnny gently patted his thigh.  “My leg still needs to heal up some before I ride.”

Wilson nodded.  “Alright, but stay out of trouble.”

Johnny laughed, “Hell, Sheriff, haven’t you heard?  All I’ve found lately is trouble.”

Wilson smiled.  “Guess so.”  Then he looked around.  “Where’s your partner?  Figured Crawford would be here.”

Johnny dipped his head.  He hadn’t thought of Val for … at least three weeks, not since that day in Midnight when he wished more than anything he could see Val once more before he died.

“Val decided to take up a new profession.  He pinned on a badge and works in a little town in California.”

Wilson laughed, “Val Crawford wearing a badge.  Well, I’ve heard it all now.”

Johnny couldn’t bring himself to smile.  “Yeah, that’s something, ain’t it.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your meal.  Just remember, I don’t want any trouble in town.”

“I’ll do my best, Sheriff.”

Wilson turned and walked away, leaving Johnny to his cooling meal. He took a bite and sighed. Even lukewarm, it was the best meal he’d had since….  He shook himself and continued to eat, but now it just didn’t taste as good. 

When he finished his meal, Johnny eased his sore body up the stairs to the second floor.  The small dusty room had one bed and one window.  It was a far cry from the room he’d had in ….

Damn it, would everything remind him of Midnight?   

Laying on the bed, Johnny shut his eyes and tried to block out the memories. 

---

For the next four days, Johnny walked around town, exercising his leg and trying to find any of Midnight’s survivors. Everywhere he turned, he hit a dead end.  He was told those who had lived through the massacre had moved on.

At the end of each day, he found himself back in the cantina, sitting at his usual table and nursing the same bottle of tequila.  Somehow, he couldn’t force himself to finish it.

Five days after leaving the hospital, Johnny felt well enough to ride, but he had one…no, two, stops to make before leaving Tucson. 

Before gathering his things, he headed for the hospital.  Walking into the building, Johnny stopped at the desk inside the door.

“Hey, Johnny,” Corporal Jamison smiled up at him.

“Travis, how are you doing?”

“Good.  Real good.  What brings you back here?”

“The Doc said he wanted to see me before I left town.”

“To change your bandages?”

“That’s right.”

 “Come on back.”   Jamison stood and motioned Johnny to follow him to a small room at the rear of the building.  “Wait here, Johnny.  I’ll find Doctor Lauderdale.”

Johnny glanced around the dimly lit room. It contained a single sheet-covered table, a lone chair, and a small cabinet stocked with bandages and medicine. It was a tight squeeze, but everything was neatly organized and within reach.

“Hello, Johnny.”  John Lauderdale strode into the room and pushed back the curtains over the windows, allowing light to flood in.  “Since you’re here, I assume you’re leaving Tucson?”

“As soon as you finish changing the bandages.”

“Alright, let’s take a look at you.  Take off your shirt.”

Thirty minutes later, Johnny’s wounds had been probed, poked, and rebandaged.   “You know, Doc, I felt a hell of a lot better before I came in here.” 

“I’m sorry, but it was necessary.”

Standing to button his shirt, he glanced at the doctor.  “So, what’s the verdict?”

“You’re going to have to take it easy for a while longer.  Don’t strain the leg.  Rest when you get tired.  Where are you going?” 

“Mexico.”

“Remember, Colonel Devin wants to see you before you leave.”

“I remember.  That’s my next stop.”

“Well, then, Johnny, take care of yourself,” Lauderdale said, holding out his hand.  “Be sure to stop by the next time you’re in Tucson.”

“I’ll do that, Doc.”

Johnny walked out of the hospital and heaved a sigh of relief.  He was ready to leave Tucson but had one more stop to make.

Saddling his horse and tying on his saddlebags, Johnny mounted up and rode to Camp Lowell.  

Entering the compound, he stopped at the sentry post.  “Looking for Colonel Devin.”

“Straight ahead.  The tent with the flag on it.” The guard pointed to the center of the camp.

“Thanks.”  Johnny tipped his hat. 

Johnny looked around the camp. Camp Lowell was a far cry from the larger forts he’d passed through. While he was in the hospital, Mac told him that Lowell was a collection of older adobe buildings that served as a kitchen, guardhouse, magazine, and ordnance storeroom.  There were no quarters for the troops other than weather-worn canvas tents.  

Stopping in front of the command tent, Johnny dismounted and tied his horse at the hitch rail out front.   He walked to the tent entrance and smiled.  There was nothing to knock on.

“Anyone here?”

“Enter.”

Johnny took off his hat and ducked under the tent flap.  “Colonel Devin?”

“That’s right.”  The partially balding man behind the desk looked up.  “May I help you?”

“Doc Lauderdale said you wanted to see me before I left town?”

The Colonel looked puzzled.  “And you are….”

Johnny smiled.  “Johnny Madrid.”

Devin stood and extended his hand. “Mr. Madrid, yes. I did want to see you before you left Tucson.”  He glanced at Johnny’s leg. “The leg…it’s better?”

Johnny nodded.  “It’s getting there.”

“I received the after-action report on the battle at Midnight.  From the information Captain Miles provided, there wouldn’t have been any survivors if you hadn’t been there.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’m glad I was there to help out.  As it was, there weren’t many who made it out alive.”

Devon lowered his head and nodded.  “It’s a shame so many were lost.”

“Yeah, it was, but if Captain Miles hadn’t gotten there when he did, the rest of us wouldn’t have been far behind.”

“Miles is a good man.”

Johnny nodded.  “I want to thank you for posting the guard at the hospital while I was there.”

It was Devin’s turn to smile.  “It seemed that if we wanted to keep you and everyone in the hospital safe, it was the right thing to do.”

“Well, I appreciate it.”

Devin reached out his hand again. “It’s been nice meeting you, Mister Madrid.  Where to next?”

“Not real sure.  I thought about going south into Mexico, but there may be some work in Texas or New Mexico.”

Johnny shook the Colonel’s hand.

“Safe travels, Mister Madrid.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” 

Johnny turned and walked outside.  He was about to mount his horse when he heard his name. 

“Johnny!”

Looking around, he saw Ian McGregor walking towards him, his arm still in a sling.

“Mac.”

“I was hoping to catch you before you left.”

“I was just getting ready to go.”

“Take care, Johnny.  If you’re back this way, be sure to stop by and see me.”

“I’ll do that.”  Johnny looked around.  “Is Captain Miles here?  I wanted to thank him.”

“No, he took a patrol out yesterday.  The Apache are still stirring up trouble.  Which way are you going?”

Johnny smiled.  Everyone wanted to know where he was going.  “South,” Johnny answered without hesitation.  “South for now.”

“Take care of yourself, lad.”

Johnny smiled and mounted his horse.  Tipping his hat, he reined around and rode out of Camp Lowell.

Stopping on the outskirts of Tucson, Johnny gazed south towards Nogales.  He’d told everyone he was going to Mexico but knew he wasn’t ready to go back to that life.  He’d seen too much death in Midnight.  What he needed now was the living.

Looking westward, Johnny smiled. He hadn’t seen Val in almost a year and wondered how his friend was doing. Yeah, Val was who he needed now, even if it took a couple of weeks to reach him.

Reining his horse around, Johnny took a deep breath and kicked his horse into a gallop.  Leaning over the horse’s neck, a grin spread across his face.  He knew he’d pay for it later when his leg and shoulder started hurting, but it felt good to have the wind on his face.   

---

Tucson, Arizona Territory
September 8, 1869

It was a bright, sunny Wednesday morning when Johnny Madrid rode into Tucson.   He had set out from El Paso three days earlier and was now longing for a soft bed, tired of sleeping rough on a bedroll.

Going straight to the cantina, he walked inside and heaved a sigh of relief that it was almost empty. The bartender spotted him immediately and raised a hand in greeting.

Johnny nodded and sauntered up to the bar.  “Beer.”

The bartender looked at him questioningly but didn’t argue.  “Coming right up.”

When the mug of beer was set in front of him, Johnny asked, “Got a room?”

“Same one as last time?”

Johnny nodded.

“Sure thing.” The bartender handed over a key.

Johnny tossed a few coins on the bar for the drink and room and went to find a table. He hadn’t any more than gotten comfortable before the door to the cantina swung open, and Ian McGregor walked in. 

McGregor waved when he saw his friend and then strode across the room.  “Johnny.”

“Mac, what are… how did you know I was in town?”

McGregor laughed.  “You don’t think Johnny Madrid can ride into town, and everyone doesn’t know?”

Johnny smiled.  “I was planning on stopping by to see you before heading out again.”

“Well, lad, I saved you a trip.”

“Sit down, and I’ll buy you a drink.”   Johnny motioned for another beer from the bartender.

McGregor leaned back and looked Johnny over. “You’ve gained some weight since the last time I saw you, and you’ve put on some muscle, too. What have you been doing?”

“I’m a growing boy, Mac,” Johnny laughed but meant it.  He’d been amazed that over the last year, he’d seen a growth spurt- not much, mind you, but some.  He’d also filled out.  “You’re right. I’ve built some muscle.  I worked on a ranch in Texas for a while and a cattle drive up the Chisholm to Abilene.”

“I’d never have thought of you working cattle.  Ever think of hanging up your gun for good and going into ranching?”

“No way.  Horses, maybe, but never cattle.  They’re too dumb.  I’d rather eat them than herd them.”

“Well, you’re looking good.”

Johnny nodded.  “So, anything new around here?  How’s Captain Miles doing?”

“The Captain’s in New Mexico now.  Transferred to Fort Wingate with the 3^rd Cavalry.”

“I thought you were with the 3^rd.”

 “I’m with the 5^th now.  Colonel Devin was promoted to Brigadier General and took command of the entire Arizona Territory.  The 5^th is stationed at Camp Lowell under his direct command.”

“What about that young Lieutenant…Sherwood, wasn’t it?”

“He’s still here.  He’s learned a lot since last year.  He’s not as anxious to meet up with the Apache anymore.”   

“A lot of changes.”

“That’s a fact.” McGregor sipped his beer and then thought of something.  “The Apache are quiet, for a change.  No, the only excitement we’ve had is the stagecoach robberies.  There have been six in the last few months.  The armies sent out patrols trying to catch them.”

“No luck in finding them?”

“Not so far.  We tried trailing them, but their tracks just disappeared.”

“There are a lot of places they could be hiding in the desert.  You might never find them.”

McGregor nodded, “True, but it’s costing the stage lines a lot of money, not to mention the mine owners.”

“Well, one way or another, they’ll make a mistake, and you’ll get them.”

McGregor nodded.  “So, what brings you back this way?”

Johnny lowered his head, not wanting to look at McGregor.  “Got some unfinished business I need to take care of.  After that, I’m headed to Mexico.”

“That’s where you were headed the last time I saw you.”

“Well, I got sidetracked,” Johnny laughed.  “Ended up going to California to see Val.”

McGregor smiled.  “Is he alright?”

“Yeah.  Val likes wearing a badge, and he’s a good lawman.”

McGregor lifted his glass and took a sip.  “That unfinished business wouldn’t have anything to do with Midnight, would it?”

“It might, but right now, I just want this beer and visit with a friend.  Tomorrow is soon enough to take care of business.”

McGregor raised his glass.  “To unfinished business.”

Johnny hesitated, then returned the toast. 

---

Midnight, Arizona Territory
September 9, 1869

The sign was just as he remembered: a slightly leaning, weathered piece of wood spelling out the epitaph of a dying town. 

Using both hands to grip the top of the weather-worn, splintered boards, he carefully straightened the old sign, then kicked dirt and rock around the skinny post to hold it in place.

The sign still read ‘Population 50.’ A pang of sadness gripped Johnny as he realized that Jonas never got the chance to change it.

How long had it been?  A year?  No.  More than a year.  

The rumble of thunder in the east drew his attention to the billowing grey and white clouds building over the mountains, and then lightning streaked across the sky.  It would rain soon.  He remembered the day he’d first rode into Midnight.  It had rained that day, too.

A shiver skittered down his spine.  This was a mistake.  He should have never come back here.  Even after a year, the memories were too fresh.  He took a deep breath and blew it out.   There was no turning back now.

Apprehension gripped him as he mounted and headed for the shelter of the town or what was left of it.  Looking over his shoulder, he watched the sign start to tilt, slowly returning to its original position.

As Johnny rode into town, his horse stirred up a cloud of dust that swirled around him like the ghosts of Midnight, beckoning him on.  Finally stopping, he dismounted.  He stood in the middle of the deserted street, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. 

The memories of that day a year earlier assaulted him.  He had arrived in this place seeking tranquility and a respite from his life, but instead, he encountered anything but peace.

The charred remains of what had once been the livery stable at the eastern edge of town bore testament to the fierce battle that had played out.  In his mind’s eye, he could see the red flames, followed by black smoke climbing high into the sky.  If he listened closely enough, he could hear the gunfire and war cries of the Apache carried on the wind.  Even the acrid scent of gun smoke seemed to still linger.

Johnny Madrid had witnessed death in his time, heard the death rattle as a man took his final breath, and saw the clouding eyes when the end came. However, it wasn’t until last year that he’d experienced the heart-wrenching sight of a town in its last death throes.

The wind picked up, causing the abandoned buildings to moan.  Johnny jumped and twisted around, gun drawn, when the saloon’s batwing door banged open and shut.  Relaxing, he holstered the Colt and stared at the building.  Cocking his head, he wondered if the tequila bottle was still where Jonas left it.

Walking to the saloon, he pushed through the doors and looked around.  Nothing had changed—the windows were broken, and the tables and chairs overturned.   The only difference now was the thick layer of dust and sand covering every surface.

He walked around the bar and stopped.  Looking down, he could still see the discolored boards where Jonas had bled out.  He stepped over the spot and ran his hand over the hidden door to the right of the unbroken mirror.   The door opened, and there it was, just as Jonas had left it.

Johnny reached for the bottle and brushed a thin layer of dust away, the worn label showing its age.  He scanned the bar for a glass, finally finding one.  Picking it up, he blew it out and poured himself a shot.  As he raised it to his lips, he paused, took a deep breath, and then lifted the glass in a solemn toast.  “To you, Jonas.  To all of you.”

He closed his eyes and downed the clear liquid.  The tequila burned a path down Johnny’s throat, and bitterness surged within him.  He’d relived that July day countless times, grappling with the question of whether he could have done more… or anything different. 

Suddenly, the tequila settled on an empty stomach, and he felt a moment of nausea, reminding him it had been some time since he’d eaten.  It was the same feeling he’d had that first day in Midnight, except this time, there wasn’t anyone to bring him a bowl of stew and fresh bread.

He knew he’d find no food here or in what remained of the hotel, but maybe…He glanced at the floor.  There was a chance something still remained in the tunnels below.  He’d never asked where the entrance was in the saloon, but he knew all too well where it was in the hotel.

Smiling, Johnny looked at the bottle and decided he’d put it back where he found it.  There would be other times he’d come this way, and he’d always know where to get a drink.   After returning the bottle to its hiding place, he walked out of the saloon and stopped on the boardwalk. 

The hotel sign drooped on one side, creaking in the wind.  The front windows, shattered by bullets and arrows, were still covered from the inside by torn and tattered curtains that moved and danced with the wind.

As he crossed the street and reached the porch, he came to a sudden stop. There, on the arm of the chair near the door, the coffee cups from that last morning with Alex were still resting, untouched and exactly as they had left them.

He pushed open the hotel’s broken door and stepped inside.  Like the saloon, a thick layer of dust covered the once-clean floors and furniture.  Taking a chance that there may have been something left in the kitchen, Johnny headed that way.  One look, however, told him nothing was left untouched.  Broken dishes, pots, and pans covered the floor, and all the cabinets were empty of food.  

Returning to the lobby, he stood with his hands on his hips and thought about where to go next.  The tunnel.   No.  Not yet.  The tunnel could wait.  He looked up, wondering what was left upstairs. 

Johnny took the steps slowly and then walked down the hall and stopped at his old room.  Grasping the doorknob, he turned it and pushed the door open, stepping aside when a gust of hot, stale air hit him full in the face. 

He looked around the room and smiled.  The bed was made, and the window, although dirty, was unbroken.  It was as if the last year hadn’t happened, and he’d just walked out for breakfast only that morning. 

On the nightstand was a pile of coins he’d taken out of his pockets the last night he’d stayed there.  Opening the top drawer of the dresser, he found his spare shirt.   Whoever had grabbed his saddle bags that last morning had overlooked the other items.  Gathering his things, he took one more look around before leaving the room and firmly closing the door behind him.

He hesitated outside the door, undecided as to which way to go.  After a moment, he walked down the hallway, stirring up a faint cloud of dust with each step.  Stopping at the room he knew was Amy’s, he swung it open, allowing the hot air out, and stepped inside.   It was much like his room had been.  Nothing was out of place.

He suddenly felt as if he were an intruder.  As he turned to leave, his eyes were drawn to a tall, thin, royal blue bottle on the dresser.  Unable to resist, he picked it up and pulled out the stopper.   One sniff, and he knew it was lilac water.  

The haunting fragrance quickly filled the room.  Johnny’s breath caught as he glanced around, almost expecting to see Amy Sutter standing next to him.  Hastily, he returned the bottle to where it belonged, walked out, and gently shut the door behind him.

Back in the lobby, he placed his belongings on the sofa and then directed his gaze towards the door beneath the stairwell.  His next stop was the hotel’s basement, followed by the tunnel.

Johnny opened the basement door and narrowed his eyes to see down the dark staircase.   Just inside the entrance, he found a lantern hanging from a rusty horseshoe nail.   Picking it up, he gave it a shake and smiled when he heard the slosh of oil. 

As he reached into his shirt pocket, Johnny’s fingers fumbled until they closed around a match.  With a swift strike against the sole of his boot, he ignited the match and brought the lantern to life with a flickering glow.  Johnny carefully descended the creaking wooden stairs, holding the lantern aloft as he felt the gradual coolness enveloping him, the dim light casting dancing shadows on the walls.

The basement mirrored the bedrooms upstairs. Nothing had been touched, and it was clear that the Apache hadn’t found the basement or the tunnels.

The gut-wrenching knowledge that he’d sent the stage to its doom for no reason washed over him.  If he’d waited just a few minutes longer…if he’d made sure who was coming through the tunnel… if…. Damn it, the ‘if’s’ had tormented him for a year. 

He shook himself.  This feeling had to stop.  It was one of the reasons he’d decided to put his demons to rest and return to Midnight.

In the months after leaving Midnight, he was haunted by recurring dreams of Midnight and the seemingly endless, dimly lit tunnel.  More than once, he would jolt awake with a racing heart, desperately grasping at the fading fragments of the dream, but each time, they faded away.

Taking a breath, he looked around the room again.  To his right, wooden shelves lined the dirt wall.  They were full of canning jars full of vegetables and fruit, still waiting for Amy to add to a meal that would never be cooked. 

Then his eyes fell on the tunnel entrance, and he felt compelled to take a quick look.  Approaching the blanket, he carefully raised it and lifted the lantern, then cleared away a thick spider’s web that blocked his way before stepping into the darkness.   

After a few steps, he was ready to turn back when he felt the tip of his boot hit something.  Curious, he knelt down and lowered the lamp, its light revealing the yellow yarned head of a doll. With care, he lifted it from the dusty ground, brushed off the dirt, and turned it over. As he gazed at the familiar object, a wave of emotions washed over him, causing his throat to tighten — he’d found Mary Ann.

Setting the lantern down, he unbuttoned his shirt and placed the doll safely inside next to his skin.  He’d made a lot of promises last year he wasn’t able to keep.  But he’d promised to return Mary Ann to her owner, and by damn, that’s what he was going to do. 

As he lifted his foot to move forward, a faint scent of wood smoke drifted through the darkness.  A cold chill ran up his spine, and he knew his instincts were telling him not to go any further.  

Turning, he quickly gathered a few jars from the shelves and hurried back up the creaking stairs, the sound echoing in the basement.  With a quick breath, he blew out the flickering lantern and carefully returned it to its place.  Once the door was closed, he leaned against it as if holding back whatever was lingering in the darkness below.  

Returning to the kitchen, Johnny cleaned off a space on the counter and sat down for his future dinner.  Pausing, he took a moment to steady his breathing and shake off the unease lingering from his time in the basement.

“Alright, Madrid, pull yourself together.  First things first, get your horse taken care of, have something to eat, and then bed down.”   Johnny laughed, “Hell, talking to myself.  I guess I’ve spent too much time by myself.”

He took one more look at the jars; his appetite was gone.  Well, he’d save the food for later when he could keep it down.  There were too many memories, he thought.  He wished he’d never come back to Midnight.  Then his hand went to the slight bulge under his shirt, and he knew he’d had no choice.

Walking outside, Johnny saw a flash of lightning in the distance and the long, low rumble of thunder.  He looked up and down the street, feeling uncomfortable with leaving the horse in the open.  Finally, striking on an idea, he walked him to the alley between the hotel and Frank Thompson’s boarded-up Mercantile, smiling when he found a side door to the building.    

He took a step back, steeling himself, and then delivered a powerful kick to the door, causing it to burst open. As he entered, he realized it was a store room, with just enough room to safely shelter his horse from the storm.

“This will do just fine.”

Walking back outside, led his horse into the building.  It wasn’t hard to find a bucket.  He filled it from the water trough out front and dug out a bag of oats from his saddlebags.  After unsaddling and brushing the horse, he gave it a final pat before going back into the hotel.  

As he stepped out onto the hotel boardwalk, a sudden flash of lightning lit up the sky, accompanied by an earsplitting clap of thunder.  Within moments, the heavens opened, and rain poured down in sheets.

---

Johnny had already decided not to sleep in one of the rooms upstairs.  The long sofa in the lobby would give him a clear view of the street.  The town may have been deserted, but it didn’t mean it was safe.

Stretching out on his back, Johnny laid his gun on his chest and closed his eyes.  The steady patter of rain against the roof filled the room as he tried to drift off to sleep.  Despite the soothing sound, sleep eluded him for a long time.

When he finally dozed off, his mind was quickly overtaken by a deluge of vivid and intense dreams.

The memory of standing at the hotel’s front door came rushing back to him.  The deafening sound of gunfire echoed in his ears, and the haunting image of the street was littered with the lifeless bodies of Apache.

The scene changed, and he found himself walking across a dimly lit basement, carefully lifting the blanket that concealed the hidden tunnel.  A distant voice called out to him, urging him to hurry, while the sweet, nostalgic scent of lilac filled the air and something else…wood smoke.  As he ran through the dark tunnel, his heart pounded.  All he wanted was to reach the other end.  At last, he could see light.  When he stumbled out of the darkness, he found a campfire still burning.  He looked around and….

Johnny jolted awake, his heart racing as he sat up, still enveloped in the lingering sensations of his dream.  With a deep breath, he sat up and ran a hand over his face.  The dream was still vivid, and the fragrance of lilac and smoke still hung in the air. 

As his thoughts began to clear, he grappled with the meaning of the dream before ultimately deciding to shake it off. 

Standing, he walked to the window and pushed the curtain aside.  The rain had stopped, and the sun was starting to rise.  He decided it was time to leave Midnight. 

After fixing something to eat, he was walking out of the hotel to saddle his horse when he heard a noise.  Looking west down the street, he saw the familiar sight of a cavalry patrol headed his way and recognized the man in the lead.

William Sherwood raised his voice and right arm, “Halt.”  Then, looking at Johnny, he smiled, “Mr. Madrid.  I heard you were back in the territory.”

“Lieutenant, it’s good to see you again.  I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye the last time I was in Tucson.”

Ian McGregor rode up to join the Lieutenant.  “Johnny.”

“Mac, it’s good seeing you again.”

“So, laddie, is this the unfinished business you had?”

Johnny smiled, “You could say that.”

“Mr. Madrid, did you stay in Midnight last night?”

Johnny nodded, “Yeah.  Why are you asking?”

“Have you seen any signs of anyone else?  The stage was robbed yesterday between here and Tucson.  They got away with the strong box.  We’ve been tracking them, but the rain last night washed away the tracks.”

“Mac told me you’ve had a lot of robberies lately.”

“There have been, and each time, the robbers just seem to disappear.”

Johnny reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.  There was something that was niggling at the edge of his memory, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I didn’t see anyone, but…”

Johnny turned and looked at the hotel.

“Something wrong?”

“Lieutenant, you know much about this town?”

Sherwood shook his head.  “As you know, until a little over a year ago, I’d never set foot in Arizona.”

Johnny looked at McGregor, “Mac?”

The Sergeant shrugged.  “What are you trying to tell us?”

Johnny slowly shook his head.  “I’m not sure, but I have an idea.  Lieutenant Sherwood, Mac, come with me.  I want to show you something.”

The three men entered the hotel.  Johnny went to the door under the stairwell and opened it. 

Lifting the lantern, Johnny lit it and started down the steps.  “Follow me.”

Sherwood looked at McGregor and then started down the steps.

At the bottom of the stairs, Johnny walked to the middle of the basement and held the lantern high.  Looking at the two soldiers, he turned around slowly so the light bounced off all the walls.

“There’s a secret the people of Midnight kept from outsiders.”

Sherwood stepped closer to Johnny.  “And that was?”  

“The town was built over the first mine tunnels the prospectors dug.  There were entrances to the tunnels in the saloon across the street, the livery stable at the east end of town, and here under the hotel.” 

“You know where the tunnels are?” Mac walked around the basement.

“I know where the main tunnel is.  It’s how we got out of town last year when the Apache attached.” 

Johnny walked to the blanket hanging on one wall and lifted it.  He closed his eyes when he smelled lilac.   The dream he’d had the night before came streaming back to him.

“You’re showing us this…why?” Sherwood said.

“The other end of the tunnel comes out into a clearing about a half mile north of town.  The townspeople built a corral just inside the mine entrance, and the entire thing is covered with a netting that blends with the hillside.  Unless you know it’s there, you’d ride right past it.

“Last night, when I lifted this blanket, I thought I smelled wood smoke.  I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but I’d bet one of Mac’s stripes your stage robbers found the tunnel entrance and are hiding out there.”

McGregor looked around the undisturbed basement.  “If they are, why haven’t they come through the tunnel to this end?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe we can ask them… when we find them.”

“Mr. Mad…” Sherwood paused.  “Do you mind if I call you Johnny?”

“That’s my name, Lieutenant.”

“And mine is Bill.”

The two men smiled at each other. 

“Johnny, can you show Sergeant McGregor where to find the tunnel entrance?”

“I can do that.”

 “Very well. Let’s go back upstairs and talk about it.”

Back on the street, Sherwood turned to Johnny.  “You’ve been in the tunnel.  How do you suggest we do this?” 

“Maybe you can take a few men through this end and come in behind them.  Just remember to take it slow and easy through the tunnel.  It’s plenty tall in most places, but…well, you get the idea.  Don’t want any of your men knocked out.”

“Alright.  How long do you think it will take us to get through?”

“Ten minutes, maybe less.  But it’s gonna take me a good twenty minutes, maybe more, to get into place on the other end.  If they are there and we move in too fast, we’ll give ourselves away and end up losing a lot of men.”

Sherwood nodded in agreement, “We’ll proceed as you suggest, Johnny. If they are present, we’ll be able to catch them in a crossfire. If not, then the only thing we’ve wasted is some time.”

---

By the time Johnny and the army patrol under Mac’s command made their way close enough to the tunnel entrance to get a good look, it was midmorning.  

Ian McGregor knelt and looked at the trail.  “I can’t tell anything.  The rain last night washed any tracks away.”

Johnny stood beside him, scanning the area.

“Look at this.”  He pointed to a narrow stretch of sand leading toward the tunnel.  “It’s been more than a year since anyone was supposed to have been here, but the ground along the trail is deeper than the surrounding area.  There’s been a lot of horse traffic through here.”

Johnny scanned the open area between them and the tunnel.  It would be suicide to draw the robbers out without knowing how many there were.

“Mac, stay here and keep the men quiet.  I’m going to see how many we’re up against.”

“Be careful.” McGregor put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder.

Johnny took off his hat and handed it to McGregor.  “I’ll be right back.”

Johnny carefully inched his way along the rugged face of the cliff, hugging the edge tightly.  He smelt the wood smoke long before he arrived at the entrance.  There was no doubt now someone was hiding inside.

He slowly lifted the edge of the net covering the tunnel closest to the corral.  He counted five horses.  Waiting, he listened for voices but didn’t hear anything.  He started to ease under the netting when someone walked across the inside of the tunnel entrance to the corral.

He’d learned what he wanted to know.   Returning to where McGregor was waiting, he nodded.  “They’re in there.  Five of them.”

McGregor looked at his men and lifted his hand, giving them a silent signal that they were up against five men.  

He returned Johnny’s hat and said, “What have you got planned?”

Johnny kneeled and cleared a spot in the sand, then drew a rough diagram of the area and the tunnel.   “We’re here.  Just inside the tunnel, there’s a corral…here.” He pointed to the drawing.  “The campfire is here.  I only saw one man, but there are five horses.”   

Johnny looked at McGregor to make sure he was following along.  

“Put two men on top of the cliff overlooking the tunnel.  Split the rest into two squads and have them take a side but stay close to the cliff face.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Me…” Johnny grinned, “I’m going to go knock on the front door.”

McGregor stood and looked at Johnny, “What?”

“Someone has to get them out in the open.  I’m the only one not wearing blue.”

“But…” McGregor stopped when he saw the determined look on the young man’s face.

Johnny waited for the soldiers to take their positions before mounting his horse.  He looked around and took a deep breath.  Then, adjusting his hat firmly on his head, he kicked the horse into a slow walk.

He started whistling, announcing himself as loudly as he could.  When he got in front of the tunnel, he stopped, rested his hand on his gun, and called out, “Hey, ho… anyone there?”

A long moment passed before Johnny saw the edge of the netting start to move.  A tall, blond man stepped out, gun in hand. 

Johnny raised his left hand and waved.  “Hey there.”

The man looked around and then back at Johnny.  “You alone?”

Johnny snorted, “You see anyone else?”

The man turned and called over his shoulder, “He’s alone.”

Three more men stepped out, all with guns in their hands.  One of them walked out far enough that if he had turned, he could have seen the soldiers on either side of the entrance.

“Look, fellows, I don’t want any trouble,” Johnny drawled.

“Then what are you doing here?” the man out front asked.

“I’m not sure how to tell you this, but you’ve got a problem…a big problem.”

The man laughed, “Yeah, well, the way we see it, it’s you who has the problem.”

Johnny shook his head.  “Not hardly.  You see, I know you’re the ones who have been robbing the stages.”

“That so?” the man laughed again.

“Yeah, that’s so.  I’m afraid you’re gonna have to come with me.  There are a lot of people looking for you.” 

“You think you can take us in…all by yourself?”

“Nope.” Johnny shook his head.  “You see, I have help.”

“I don’t see anyone else.”

Johnny gave the man a slight smile, “You will if you turn around.”

The man turned slightly and froze when he saw a dozen rifles pointed at him.  “Get back inside, it’s a trap!”

The others, still not aware of the cavalry outside, turned and started to run back to the tunnel.

At that moment, Lieutenant Sherwood and his men walked out, shoving the fifth man in front of them.

It should have been over right then, but Johnny knew it wasn’t going that easy.  The man’s eyes were darting left and right, and Johnny knew the look of a trapped animal when he saw it.

He drew his gun and aimed at the man in front of him, “Look, mister, you could try fighting your way out of this, but it ain’t happening.  Drop your gun and get your hands in the air.”

The man turned and raised his gun to fire when Johnny pulled the trigger.  One shot was fired, and the gun flew out of the man’s hand. 

A trooper ran forward, picked up the gun, and motioned for the man to join his friends.

A smiling Bill Sherwood marched forward, re-holstering his sidearm.  “Good work, Mr. Madrid.”

Johnny nodded, “You too, Lieutenant.”

The two were laughing when McGregor joined them.  “We found the money from the last robbery and more.”  

“Very well, Sergeant, get those men’s horses saddled and get ready to move out.  I want to get them back to Tucson today.”

Once the soldiers had their prisoners and the money from the robberies in hand, they returned to Midnight. 

---

Leaning against the wooden railing of the hotel’s front porch, Johnny watched the cavalry patrol make their final preparations before departing.

The sound of horses snorting and the clinking of metal echoed through the air as the soldiers watered their horses, filled their canteens, and adjusted their gear. Amidst the bustling activity, Johnny noticed Lieutenant Sherwood stride purposefully towards him.

“Thank you, Johnny.  We wouldn’t have found them without you.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Are you coming with us to Tucson?”

Johnny shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  I’ve still got a couple of things to wrap up here.”

Sherwood gave him a questioning look but didn’t argue. “Alright,” he held out his hand. “It’s been good seeing you again, Johnny, and again, thank you for your help.”

Johnny shook Sherwood’s hand and then turned to McGregor.  “Take care, Mac.”

“Johnny, why don’t you come back with us?”

“Not this time, Mac.  I’ll see you the next time I’m through.”

“Alright, lad.”

Johnny watched Sherwood for a moment and then added, “You’ve done a good job of teaching him.”

McGregor smiled.  “Aye. He reminds me of a young Lieutenant I knew during the war.  Hardheaded, he was, but he was good with the men, and he learned fast enough.”

“Did he make it through the war?”

“Aye.  He was one of those captured by the Rebs in ’64.  Spent a year in a prison camp.  I saw him the last time I was in Boston.  He’s doing well enough now.”

“Sergeant,” Sherwood called out, “mount up.”

“Yes, Sir,” McGregor answered and turned to his horse.  “Stay safe, Johnny, and don’t stay in Midnight too long.  Some memories are best forgotten.”

Johnny nodded his understanding and waited until the troopers were out of sight before gathering his things. 

He’d been headed south into Mexico when he’d decided to come here.  Rumors of a peon revolution and a chance of work called him back across the border.

Closing the hotel door for what good it did, Johnny gathered his horse’s reins and slowly led him toward the west end of town.  He dreaded the next stop, but it would be his last before leaving Midnight behind. 

---

On the other side of Midnight, the cemetery was a hauntingly small and desolate patch of land enclosed by a broken-down wooden fence. Within its confines lay rows of wooden markers and crosses, some bearing only a name, eroded by the passage of time and weather, while others were newer and etched with names and dates. Each marker stood guard over a mound of stones piled high and wide to prevent scavengers from digging up the bones.   

Johnny paused at the cemetery entrance, the significance of the moment sinking in.  With a heavy heart, he walked forward, his footsteps muffled by the soft earth. Making his way toward the newer section, he removed his hat and breathed out a deep, lingering sigh. As he approached the back row, his gaze fell upon the first four markers, and he felt a pang of regret at seeing the familiar names:

‘Jonas Green—Died July 22, 1868.’ 
‘Alex Stone—Died July 23, 1868.’
‘Frank Thompson—Died July 23, 1868’
‘Al Edwards —Died July 23, 1868’

Although he’d never been able to track down those who survived, he now knew someone had.  Someone had told the army what names to place on the markers. 

Now, he wondered how many of the forty-three residents of Midnight were lost that day.  As he wandered along the line, he began to tally all the newer graves. When he reached the thirty-sixth, he paused and took a deep breath.

A large sign at the end of the cemetery read.

‘July 22-23,1868
Massacre in Midnight —39 killed by the Apache.’

Carefully, he unbuttoned his shirt and retrieved Mary Ann. He’d guarded her next to his body since the night before, but now…. He clutched her tight in his hand… He’d made a promise a year earlier that he planned to keep—at least this one promise he could keep. 

Holding the doll, he gazed at it before casting his eyes upon the three adjacent graves.

“Amy Sutter- Died July 23, 1868’
‘Sarah Elizabeth Fremont -Sissy – Died July 23, 1868, aged 6 years’
‘James Martin Fremont – Jamie – Died July 23, 1868, aged 6 years.’

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” his voice was soft and low.  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep Sissy safe for you.”

Then kneeling next to Sissy Fremont, he removed three large stones from the center of the grave and set them aside, then placed Mary Ann in the hole he’d created.  Once he was sure the doll was secured, he replaced the rocks and leaned back.

“There you go, Sissy,” his voice faltered.  “I promised I’d find Mary Ann and bring her to you.  She was right where you dropped her.” 

Pushing himself up, Johnny turned and stood over Amy’s grave, remembering the dream he’d had in the hospital…or was it a dream?   His chest heaved as he struggled to hold back his emotions.

The guilt of what he’d done that day had eaten him alive.  “Forgive me, Amy.  I’m sorry I couldn’t keep any of you safe.” 

As he turned and put on his hat, the air around swirled with the scent of lilac.  His head turned back to Amy Sutter’s final resting place.

He knew then that Amy had been with him all along— guiding him, protecting him, and, most importantly, trying to tell him there was never anything to forgive.

“Thank you.”  With a tremble in his hands, he crossed himself.   “Por favor, Dios.  Cuida de ellos.”  (Please, God.  Take care of them.)

After a moment, he wiped away the tears and quickly strode to his horse.  He took one last look at the cemetery before mounting and reining his horse around.

On the eastern outskirts of town, he stopped at the wooden sign.  Stepping out of the saddle, he straightened the sign and pulled out his boot knife.  Looking at the last line of the population, he scratched through the number ‘50’ and carved a deep zero next to it.

Smiling, he said aloud, “There you go, Jonas.  I fixed it for you.”

Turning, Johnny gazed one last time at the town and small cemetery, and a different kind of sorrow washed over him. 

Soon, it would all be gone—

At best, Midnight would be no more than a passing footnote in the history books, but he didn’t give a damn about the town. Each year, countless mining camps dried up and blew away in the Arizona desert.

It was the people…

The names of the people who had called Midnight home would slowly disappear as the markers over their final resting places weathered and crumbled.  Lost would be the stories of their lives, once filled with moments of joy, heartache, and everything in between.   

Everyone else would forget, but to Johnny Madrid, Midnight would always be a living, breathing memory—etched into his mind and heart until his final breath.

---

As he rode away, he didn’t see the sign, as if mocking him, return to its original terminal lean, matching the one on the other side of Midnight.

End
August 2024

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Author’s Note:

From left to right, Dr. John V. Lauderdale, Lt. Valentine Silva, Lt. Col. Thomas C. Devin (seated), Lt. William Sherwood (standing), Mrs. Lee, Capt. James C. Lee, Lillian Lee, Capt. Gilbert C. Smith, Mrs. Smith, and Capt. Evan Miles.

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