BELIEVE
By Wendy
Part one
It was no use. No matter how much he wanted to believe that he belonged at Lancer, the truth was he wasn't even sure he had the right to claim the Lancer name. If what Teresa had said was right, then he didn't belong at all, his mother had seen to that. That everyone, but him, knew that she had left Murdoch to run off with another man was bad enough, but that the news took another piece of him with it, was worse still. There was far too little of that boy left inside him, and with his Johnny Madrid's dignity threatening to take the rest, soon there would be nothing left of Johnny Lancer.
Johnny understood that Murdoch or Scott were unsure of the man who stood before them. Like everyone else in more than one territory, they had heard the stories that had been born of fact and fiction that had given rise to Johnny Madrid's reputation and wondered about the true man inside. Johnny had seen the silent questions on both men's faces as they questioned his loyalty to the Lancer name and he couldn't blame them. He had made no secret for his reasons for coming home. Johnny had voiced loudly not only his monetary reasons for setting foot once more on Lancer land, but clearly, his preferred distance from his father and his newly discovered brother.
Brother. How strange to his ears that word was. Oh, he had had over the years, men who had called what they had as a gang, a 'brotherhood' of sorts, but Johnny had never really had someone who cared enough to watch his back. And now, the thought of having to giving up the real thing, even after such a short time, was more painful than Johnny had imagined. But, who was he trying to fool? He didn't belong here. Scott, with his fancy tweed pants and funny city hats belonged to Lancer more than he did. He was the son that Murdoch needed. Smart, responsible and with out a past that could drop you dead in the dust. Yeah, Scott was the true Lancer son, but Johnny was going miss him, more than he would let on, even to himself.
No matter how many times he went over it in his head, it came out the same in his heart, it hurt, but he didn't belong here. His past was not only a danger to him, but it was a danger for those who were close to him and he couldn't, wouldn't put his family in danger because of the mistakes he'd made.
Stepping to the dresser, Johnny looked into the mirror. There he was, Johnny Madrid, gunfighter, son, brother--killer. Quickly looking away from the cold and harsh truth, Johnny quickly opened the draws and pulled out his basic needs for traveling. There was no turning back; he couldn't turn back. Not this time.
*******In town the day before********
"I must done something right for such a windfall," A happy voice called from behind him as Johnny leaned against the bar, enjoying a well-earned beer. "I don't belief my luck, Johnny Madrid in the flesh."
Johnny heard the scratching of chairs being discarded and the rapid shuffling of feet as the saloon patrons tried to make themselves invisible, but still see the show. He tried willing the voice to disappear, but he knew it was a lost cause. Taking large swig of his beer, he put the glass down and glanced around. "Do I know you kid?"
"Hell no, but I know you," the younger stranger replied eagerly as he pushed himself from his chair and sauntered slowly to the bar, keeping a short distance between he and the object of his attentions. "Seen you work. Faster than Satan hi'self so I heard, but I've seen faster."
Turning side on against the bar so he could see the stranger a bit better, Johnny took in the long black duster and matching outfit, the ominous look contrasting with the well shine sterling silver buckles that decorated his holsters and hat. The former gunfighter reasoned that the well-dressed stranger was only about eighteen if he was a day and looking to make a name for himself. "I'm sure you have, there's always someone faster, and the name's Johnny Lancer." He corrected.
"A man's got a right to be buried under any name he wants, but I'll make sure the world knows I killed Johnny Madrid." There it was. The words came as no surprise to Johnny, he had heard many times before. "Well, you'll be killing Johnny Lancer, Madrid's long gone and as for the world, I don't think it will care one way or the other." Johnny sighed as he began to resign himself to having to defend himself again. "A man has a right to be buried under the name he chooses, so he also has the right to know who it is that is taking that life away from him?"
"They call me La Muerte in some parts," he said quite proudly.
"Death," Johnny translated slightly amused at the name so obviously thought up by the kid himself. "And just how many men have you killed to earn this fearsome reputation of 'La Muerte'?"
"Ten men," the boy answered.
'More like one' Johnny thought to himself as he shook his head. This kid was destined for an unmarked grave in some town where they wouldn't even remember him ever being there. "Well, La Muerte," Pausing to empty his glass, Johnny stepped away from the bar and held his hands away from his guns. "You're going to have ten and one in the back, because I'm not about draw on you."
The young man pushed back his coat so that he would have quick access to his guns as he eyed the former gunfighter. "You getting old Madrid. The man I saw on that street that day, wouldn't have backed down from a fight."
"I told you, Madrid is gone." Johnny reiterated as he turned and started to walk from the room. "The name is Johnny Lancer."
"Then die Johnny Lancer!" The stranger called as he went for his gun.
Practice, reaction, or the instant realization of everything he had to lose, Johnny would never know, all he knew was his response was faster than the young man's words.
*****Back to the present*****
Shoving his clothes into his saddlebags, Johnny tried to dismiss the young man's death as unavoidable, but how could it be when what you are sets the path you walk. He could still see the stunned look of surprise on the young man's face as he fell to his knees, his unfired weapon slipping from his lifeless hand. Tired of thinking and needing to be gone before the others woke up, Johnny put the letter he had written and the deed to his part of the ranch on the bed and didn't look back.
TBC
By Wendy
Part one
It was no use. No matter how much he wanted to believe that he belonged at Lancer, the truth was he wasn't even sure he had the right to claim the Lancer name. If what Teresa had said was right, then he didn't belong at all, his mother had seen to that. That everyone, but him, knew that she had left Murdoch to run off with another man was bad enough, but that the news took another piece of him with it, was worse still. There was far too little of that boy left inside him, and with his Johnny Madrid's dignity threatening to take the rest, soon there would be nothing left of Johnny Lancer.
Johnny understood that Murdoch or Scott were unsure of the man who stood before them. Like everyone else in more than one territory, they had heard the stories that had been born of fact and fiction that had given rise to Johnny Madrid's reputation and wondered about the true man inside. Johnny had seen the silent questions on both men's faces as they questioned his loyalty to the Lancer name and he couldn't blame them. He had made no secret for his reasons for coming home. Johnny had voiced loudly not only his monetary reasons for setting foot once more on Lancer land, but clearly, his preferred distance from his father and his newly discovered brother.
Brother. How strange to his ears that word was. Oh, he had had over the years, men who had called what they had as a gang, a 'brotherhood' of sorts, but Johnny had never really had someone who cared enough to watch his back. And now, the thought of having to giving up the real thing, even after such a short time, was more painful than Johnny had imagined. But, who was he trying to fool? He didn't belong here. Scott, with his fancy tweed pants and funny city hats belonged to Lancer more than he did. He was the son that Murdoch needed. Smart, responsible and with out a past that could drop you dead in the dust. Yeah, Scott was the true Lancer son, but Johnny was going miss him, more than he would let on, even to himself.
No matter how many times he went over it in his head, it came out the same in his heart, it hurt, but he didn't belong here. His past was not only a danger to him, but it was a danger for those who were close to him and he couldn't, wouldn't put his family in danger because of the mistakes he'd made.
Stepping to the dresser, Johnny looked into the mirror. There he was, Johnny Madrid, gunfighter, son, brother--killer. Quickly looking away from the cold and harsh truth, Johnny quickly opened the draws and pulled out his basic needs for traveling. There was no turning back; he couldn't turn back. Not this time.
*******In town the day before********
"I must done something right for such a windfall," A happy voice called from behind him as Johnny leaned against the bar, enjoying a well-earned beer. "I don't belief my luck, Johnny Madrid in the flesh."
Johnny heard the scratching of chairs being discarded and the rapid shuffling of feet as the saloon patrons tried to make themselves invisible, but still see the show. He tried willing the voice to disappear, but he knew it was a lost cause. Taking large swig of his beer, he put the glass down and glanced around. "Do I know you kid?"
"Hell no, but I know you," the younger stranger replied eagerly as he pushed himself from his chair and sauntered slowly to the bar, keeping a short distance between he and the object of his attentions. "Seen you work. Faster than Satan hi'self so I heard, but I've seen faster."
Turning side on against the bar so he could see the stranger a bit better, Johnny took in the long black duster and matching outfit, the ominous look contrasting with the well shine sterling silver buckles that decorated his holsters and hat. The former gunfighter reasoned that the well-dressed stranger was only about eighteen if he was a day and looking to make a name for himself. "I'm sure you have, there's always someone faster, and the name's Johnny Lancer." He corrected.
"A man's got a right to be buried under any name he wants, but I'll make sure the world knows I killed Johnny Madrid." There it was. The words came as no surprise to Johnny, he had heard many times before. "Well, you'll be killing Johnny Lancer, Madrid's long gone and as for the world, I don't think it will care one way or the other." Johnny sighed as he began to resign himself to having to defend himself again. "A man has a right to be buried under the name he chooses, so he also has the right to know who it is that is taking that life away from him?"
"They call me La Muerte in some parts," he said quite proudly.
"Death," Johnny translated slightly amused at the name so obviously thought up by the kid himself. "And just how many men have you killed to earn this fearsome reputation of 'La Muerte'?"
"Ten men," the boy answered.
'More like one' Johnny thought to himself as he shook his head. This kid was destined for an unmarked grave in some town where they wouldn't even remember him ever being there. "Well, La Muerte," Pausing to empty his glass, Johnny stepped away from the bar and held his hands away from his guns. "You're going to have ten and one in the back, because I'm not about draw on you."
The young man pushed back his coat so that he would have quick access to his guns as he eyed the former gunfighter. "You getting old Madrid. The man I saw on that street that day, wouldn't have backed down from a fight."
"I told you, Madrid is gone." Johnny reiterated as he turned and started to walk from the room. "The name is Johnny Lancer."
"Then die Johnny Lancer!" The stranger called as he went for his gun.
Practice, reaction, or the instant realization of everything he had to lose, Johnny would never know, all he knew was his response was faster than the young man's words.
*****Back to the present*****
Shoving his clothes into his saddlebags, Johnny tried to dismiss the young man's death as unavoidable, but how could it be when what you are sets the path you walk. He could still see the stunned look of surprise on the young man's face as he fell to his knees, his unfired weapon slipping from his lifeless hand. Tired of thinking and needing to be gone before the others woke up, Johnny put the letter he had written and the deed to his part of the ranch on the bed and didn't look back.
TBC
