The Long Road Home

by Sandysha

4th in the 'Riding the River' Series: Follows Madrid's Army. The relationship between Val and Johnny is revealed to Murdoch and Scott as the family does everything they can to get Johnny home after his ordeal in Mexico. With the help of Jack Slade and ten gunfighters, the Lancers make their way home to California. Story also found on Lancerlovers website

*The usual disclaimers. Don't own them, wish I did.

** A/R - My Johnny is 18 and Scott is 22.

*** Special thanks to Alice Marie, Susan, and Diana for helping with the Beta

…

THE LONG ROAD HOME

By SandySha

Continuation of Madrid's Army

Fourth in the 'Riding the River' series

The gray haze of gun smoke was slowing lifting, but there was nothing that could be done about the pungent sulfur smell that filled the air and still seemed to cling to everything.

Murdoch stood in the middle of the campsite and looked around. He realized that the nightmare that had started over a month ago at Lancer was not ending.

The bodies of Ramirez and his men lay sprawled on the ground where they'd fallen, a grim reminder of the events of the past few minutes. Gunfighters and vaqueros rushed back and forth, calling to each other, as they searched the camp for more of Ramirez's men.

The tall rancher wearily shook his head. Murdoch thought he was just starting to know and understand his youngest son when Val Crawford had knocked on his door five weeks ago. However, in the last four days, he'd stood back, almost as a bystander, and watched his son in action.

The way Johnny had dealt with the gunfighters and the Rurales Colonel had given him a sense of pride in the young man he'd never known before. He now clearly understood that his dark-haired son was a force to be reckoned with.

Murdoch turned and glanced at the Doctor's tent. The moment he saw his youngest son walk out of that tent with a gun to his back, he knew what he had to do. Slade's words from the day before had given him the idea. "Just thought you might need some of us to make sure you got home."

Murdoch had dismissed the statement until a few minutes ago. For whatever reason, Johnny had trusted Jack Slade in more ways than one in the last two days. Now it was his turn to put his trust in the famous gunfighter.

Johnny's safety was foremost in his mind. Murdoch would do everything within his power to keep his son safe and if that meant hiring one legend to protect another, then so be it.

Turning his attention to the gunfighter dressed in black, Murdoch took a deep breath before speaking.

"Slade, I want to hire you and some of these men," he waved his hand around the camp.

"Hire me?" Slade looked from Murdoch to Val and then to Scott with an expression of dismay, "Hire me to do what?"

"I want you and your men to protect my son... no just not my son, my entire family, and that includes Val," Murdoch's stern gaze never wavered from Slade's face.

"Mr. Lancer you want me... to protect Johnny Madrid," Slade laughed and turned away shaking his head. Turning back, "You're serious? Do you have any idea what you are asking? You have your own men. You don't need me."

Murdoch looked at Cipriano, "I'm sending Cipriano and my men back to the ranch. Scott, Val, and I are going to take John home. I want an escort. My son decided to trust you a few minutes ago. I don't know if that trust was founded or not. I do know you saved his life. It's obvious he can't protect himself right now. It is also obvious I…we're ill-prepared to protect him under the circumstances. I want you to do that for me."

Slade didn't say anything for almost a full minute. Finally, he shrugged, thinking, "A job was a job."

"How much are you willing to pay?" Slade questioned.

"How much do you want?" Murdoch shot back.

"I'm not some $10.00 a day plus bullets gunhawk, Mr. Lancer," Slade drawled. "My gun doesn't come cheap. I get the same pay as Madrid would if it was his job."

"How much would that be, Mr. Slade?" Murdoch waited for the answer. He knew Johnny was an expensive gun and had often wondered how much his young son was paid for his services.

"I pick the men; I need six, would prefer ten. You want us to see you to that ranch of yours in California? Traveling by horseback at the pace we've been going; it's gonna' take at least six weeks, probably more. Figure you want to travel up through Phoenix and across to Riverside. That's Apache and Comanchero territory," Slade stated.

"How much, Mr. Slade?" Murdoch impatiently waited for the answer.

"On a good job, Madrid would get $1000. Problem is I heard he was working for almost nothing on his last job in Sonora."

Slade thought for another moment, "Oh, what the hell."

"$5000, Mr. Lancer," Slade finally said. "$5000, will get you me and ten good gunhawks, and you furnish the bullets." He waited to see Murdoch's reaction, expecting the man to balk at the price.

"Done," Murdoch answered without even one second of hesitation.

"Gonna' need an advance to get the supplies we need," Slade didn't show his surprise that Lancer hadn't flinched.

"I'm providing the wagon with supplies. You let Val know what you need in the way of ammunition or anything else. I'm giving you a $500 advance now," Murdoch reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took out $500 and handed it to Slade. "Do we have a deal, Mr. Slade?"

Slade looked at the money in his hand and then back to Murdoch. "One more question, Mr. Lancer?"

"That is?" Murdoch asked.

"Who's gonna' tell Madrid about our deal?" a smile danced across Slade's face. "Just so you know, we'll take care of anyone who tries to harm you, your sons, or Crawford. We won't get in the middle of any gunfights if someone calls Madrid out. That's his business, not yours or mine. Understood?"

Murdoch hesitated. Slade could see the indecision on the older man's face.

"I'll let my son know of our arrangement, Mr. Slade," he answered. "I'll also let John handle his own business, his way, as long as he's able."

Slade nodded and shook Murdoch's hand. "You're the boss." Slade turned and walked away not believing the agreement he'd made.

Murdoch turned to face Val and Scott. "Do either of you have any problems with me hiring Slade?"

"No, Sir," Scott answered. "So, who is going to tell Johnny we just hired Jack Slade to protect him?"

"We?" Murdoch looked at his son and shook his head. "No, Son, I hired Slade. It's not your money or Johnny's that's paying for Slade and his men. This is one time that we don't split the cost three ways."

"Would you mind if we at least split it fifty-fifty?" Scott smiled. "I'm rather fond of my little brother. I think the money will be well worth it."

Murdoch nodded his agreement. "Cipriano, would you get Frank, Walt, Juan, and Jose. I want you to return to the ranch by stage. We'll telegram you our progress as we move west. Val, I'm assuming you wish to stay with Johnny?"

"No way I'm leaving him," Val growled. "I ain't got no money to pay Slade, but figure I'm as good, if not better with my gun as most of them out there. I understand why you hired Slade. I have to admit I feel a might better having him with us, especially after today. I think we should all be there when you tell Johnny though. He ain't gonna' like it much."

"Like it or not, he'll live with it. I've come close to losing him three times in the last two weeks. The first time it was you and Scott that saved him. The last two times it was Slade and the gunfighters. Until he's back on his feet and we are at Lancer, Slade is going to be with us," Murdoch looked toward the tent to see the doctor coming out.

...********

Slade saw the doctor come out of the tent and moved to stand beside Murdoch. Madrid was his business now.

"Doctor," Murdoch moved forward, "how is he?" The look on the doctor's face wasn't good.

"Mr. Lancer, most of the blood on his back wasn't his. It appears it came from the man who was lying on top of him. That is the only good news I can give you," Doctor Lawson hesitated. "Yesterday when I saw him, I told you he needed rest and food. That hasn't changed. I assumed he would be at the Worthington ranch for the next four to five weeks." He rubbed his hands on his pants. "I understand you are moving on to Tucson tomorrow?"

"That's right, Doctor," Murdoch answered, "The circumstances here have changed. It isn't safe for Johnny here any longer."

Lawson took a deep breath, "Mr. Lancer ... I'm not sure you understand how serious ..." He stopped speaking, watching the look that came over Murdoch's face.

"Doctor, you know who my son is. God knows he has a mind and a will of his own," Murdoch said. "I can tell you that Johnny will be traveling tomorrow, with or without the approval of either one of us. Tell me what I need to do to help him."

Doctor Lawson couldn't do anything to stop the young man from leaving. The only thing he could do was to help make the trip easier. "First, your son needs to take something for the pain. Whether he shows it or not, he's in constant and severe pain and has been for days. Second, he needs sleep. I'm not talking about the snatches of sleep I know he's getting now. I'm talking about complete uninterrupted sleep. Most importantly, he needs to get something inside him besides broth and tea."

"He doesn't seem to be able to keep anything solid down," Scott spoke up.

The doctor nodded, "As I said yesterday, that has a lot to do with the pain he's having as well as the impact to his stomach. Try adding small pieces of meat to the broth. He should be able to tolerate bread as well."

The doctor looked from Murdoch to Scott and then to Val. "When was the last time you three have had a good night's sleep? I know you're awake with Johnny most of the night. I also know you're keeping him warm at night and that's good. I would imagine he does rest better with at least one of you with him."

"Can he travel tomorrow if we gave him something to make him sleep tonight?" Val asked.

"Can he travel? Yes. It won't be any more difficult than it's been already. Make sure there are frequent stops," the doctor stated firmly. "Should he travel? No. I can see that isn't an option here. I'm leaving some laudanum. See if you can get him to take it. I think you'll see that once he's out of pain, he should rest better. Change his bandages every day. Ramirez hit him in the back earlier. Some partially healed wounds have broken open again, and there are still areas that are infected. He has a slight fever now, and I expect he will continue to have one for some time."

"Thank you, doctor," Murdoch said as he shook Lawson's hand. "We're going in to see him now."

"Molly is with him. She was going to see if she could get him to take some broth and bread," the doctor said.

Murdoch led the way into the tent. He was relieved to see his son sitting on the side of the cot with a cup of broth in his hand. His shirt was off, and his entire upper body seemed to be wrapped in bandages.

Molly was hovering over him with a smile on her face. "Drink it all, Johnny. I put some bits of meat in it just like Ben Lawson told me to do. There's more if you want it," she beamed.

"This will be enough, Molly," Johnny smiled at her. "Thank you. It's real good."

Murdoch watched Johnny finish the broth. He wondered how much more his son could handle. The boy could barely keep his head up and his eyes open.

Molly gathered her things and left the tent.

"Johnny," Scott sat on the edge of the cot next to his brother, "you had me worried, little brother."

"Got to admit I was a bit worried myself. I knew you could make your shot. I was a little worried about Slade making his shot," Johnny smile and stared at Slade. "Glad to see you live up to your reputation, Jack."

"I always hit what I aim at Johnny, just like you," Slade said looking at Murdoch. "Mr. Lancer I'm gonna' go ahead and get the men lined up. I'll be back in a little while and let you know who I've hired."

"Hired?" Johnny's head shot up. His hand found the butt of his gun that was lying next to him. "Who is Slade hiring, Murdoch?"

Murdoch took a deep breath and let it out. "Here we go," he thought.

"I've hired Mr. Slade and some of the men out there, Johnny," Murdoch looked down at his son. He waited for the battle he knew was coming.

Johnny jumped up on shaky legs and almost fell back down. Scott was beside him in an instant.

"You did what!?" Johnny's voice bellowed, reminding Scott and Val of the sound of Murdoch's voice. "Are you out of your mind, old man!?"

"We need an escort, John. Slade was the obvious choice," Murdoch was now standing face to face or more accurately Johnny's face to Murdoch's chest. Johnny craned his head up to his father.

"We have our own men. What about Cipriano and the Lancer hands? We don't need Slade," Johnny was trying very hard to give Murdoch his Madrid glare.

"I'm sending Cipriano and our men back to the ranch. It's going to be another four or five weeks before we get there. Cipriano's needed at Lancer. I saw the need to hire Slade, and I have. John, this is not open to discussion," Murdoch calmly said in his 'I call the tune' voice.

"Un-hire him," Johnny dropped his head no longer able to keep looking up.

"Can't, Madrid," Slade spoke up. "Mr. Lancer has already given me a retainer. I'm working for him now."

"Damn it, Slade, what exactly is the job?" Johnny's face had grown dark as he turned to face Slade.

"Language, John," Murdoch snapped.

"Language, old man?" Johnny turned back to look at his father. "My cussing is the least of your problems. How much is this costing us?"

"Not us, John," Murdoch corrected. "Your brother and I are paying Slade. How much we are paying is between Slade and us."

"You didn't answer my question, Slade. What's the job?" Johnny turned back to Slade.

A smile formed on Slade's face. He was going to enjoy saying this.

"You're the job, Madrid. You and your family. We're going to see you get safe and sound back to that ranch of yours," Slade drawled. "I know you ain't happy, but you're gonna' have to deal with it. I take my orders from Mr. Lancer, not you."

Johnny had become Madrid; his voice matched his look, "So you're gonna' protect me, that right? You can't protect me from everything or everyone, Slade. You know that, don't you?"

"I do," Slade's voice was low and soft, an understanding passed between them.

Val had watched the exchange between Johnny and Slade. The tension in the tent had become overpowering. "Slade, why don't you go get those men lined up. I'll be out in a while to see if you need anything."

Slade's eyes and Johnny's were locked. Finally, Slade looked at Val and nodded before he turned and left the tent.

Johnny sat down slowly on the cot. He took several breaths before he let Madrid fade. Johnny looked at his friend. "Val...?" he started to say.

"Don't look at me, amigo," Val squatted next to the cot. "This was your Pa's call, and I agree with him. After what happened today, I know there's no way we're gonna' get home without help. You need to rest. You ain't gonna' get that trying to watch our backs and your own."

He placed a hand on Johnny's knee. "Don't fight this boy."

Johnny looked at his friend's face; knowing Val was right. He looked up at his father still standing over him. It was one of those moments he wished the old man would sit down. His neck was starting to cramp up.

"I'll let you call the tune, old man," Johnny replied in a defeated tone, "this time."

"That's settled," Scott put his arm gently around his brother's shoulder. "Now, you need to get some sleep. Let's get you ready for bed."

"You mind if I put a bedroll down in here? That cot is the most uncomfortable thing I've ever been on," Johnny groaned and rubbed his lower back.

"I think we can do that, son," Murdoch smiled. "Scott, why don't you help your brother. I'll be back in a few minutes. Scott, I'll sleep on the cot tonight." He turned his head and said, "Val, can you see if Slade needs anything?"

Murdoch and Val left the tent. Once outside, Murdoch turned to Val, "Thank you for your support in there, Val. He listens to you where he doesn't listen to me."

"Mr. Lancer, he knew you were right. He's just too pig-headed to admit it," Val kicked at the dirt. "I'll go see to Slade."

"Val," Murdoch put his hand out and took Val's arm, "Don't you think it's about time you stopped calling me Mr. Lancer? The name's Murdoch."

Val nodded. "I'd like that... Murdoch."

"Oh, and, Val, I notice you bedded down outside last night. I think we should keep all of the family together. Think you can bring your bedroll inside the tent tonight?" Murdoch smiled.

"I think I can do that," Val smiled back. "Thank you… Murdoch." He hesitated, "You know I'd do anything for that boy. Love him like he was my own."

"I'm glad he has a friend like you, Val. I'm glad you've been there for him when I wasn't," Murdoch shifted, looking uncomfortable with the conversation. Val had the same feelings.

"Yeah, well, I'll go see to Slade," Val pulled his hat down over his eyes and walked away.

...********

Jack Slade walked out of the tent and came to a stop. He looked back over his shoulder and shook his head. He couldn't believe he'd just agreed to sign on as protection for Johnny Madrid.

He also couldn't believe that Murdoch Lancer had agreed to pay $5000. Even after paying the men off, Slade was going to have one hell of a payday.

Slade looked around the camp trying to decide which of the men he would approach for the job. He wanted to make sure he chose men he could trust; well as much as you can trust anyone in his trade.

Thirty minutes later he'd pulled ten men aside. He thought for a minute, trying to figure out how to tell them what the job was.

"Mr. Lancer has hired me to escort and protect his family back to their ranch in California," Slade said. "I need ten men to go with me."

Larry Tate thought for a second and then spoke up. "Slade, when you say the family, is that what I think it means?"

Slade didn't say anything.

Curley looked at Slade and then at Tate. "Slade, what's Tate talking about?"

Slade nodded. "Yep, Tate we'll be protecting the entire family, and that includes Madrid."

Suddenly, he had ten gunfighters looking at him like he'd lost his mind.

"Slade," Curley spoke up, "you're telling us that you want to hire a crew to protect Johnny Madrid? By my thinking, it would be us that would need protection from him."

That got Curley a laugh from everyone except Slade.

"You're serious?" Curley asked.

"Yep," Slade answered. "Mr. Lancer has hired me to 'escort' him and his family. His family includes Madrid." Slade could see the men were considering what he'd said. "Look, we've all seen what condition he's in. Hell, right now he couldn't defend himself against a kitten let alone what the Rurales are gonna' be sending against him."

"You got a point," Curley conceded. "We did agree to help him get across the border. At least this time we'd get paid for helping him."

There were nods from several of the men.

"So, anyone of you not interested in the job? I'm gonna' remind you that the 'job' is everyone in that family and that includes Crawford," Slade said and heard a few mumbles. "Crawford is a good gunhawk in his own right, but Lancer considers him family. You take this job then you're using your gun to protect Madrid and Crawford, as well as Mr. Lancer and Scott."

"When you say 'protect Madrid,' what exactly are you saying? You want us to stand in for him if he's called out?" Carl Jackson asked.

Slade didn't know anything about Jackson and had never worked with him. The man had a good question that needed answering.

Slade shook his head, "Nope. Already told Mr. Lancer none of you would interfere if someone calls Madrid out. But I'm telling you all right now; if Madrid can't stand on his own two feet to face a man down, then I'll be doing it for him. If he can handle himself then him being called out is his business, not mine or yours."

"What's it paying?" Jess Bonner asked.

"Mr. Lancer is bankrolling me, and you'll work for both of us. I'll pay you $350 if you stick with us all the way to the ranch in California," Slade answered and watched as some nodded their approval. $350 was a lot of money for most of these men.

A couple of the men frowned.

"You got a problem, Booth?" Slade asked.

"You're paying all of us the same. I'd say some of us are worth more than others," Booth looked at Tate. Everyone knew he was new to the game and wouldn't usually get the same pay as the others.

Slade looked at Booth and then at Tate. He knew what Booth was hinting at. "You'll all be taking the same risk and doing the same job. Every one of you will be getting the same pay. If you don't like the way I'm paying then tell me now and I'll find someone else to take your place."

Slade waited, and no one else said anything.

"Slade, I'll go with you, but I won't go into California. Had a run in with the law there," Curley said.

Slade thought for a moment. Looking around the camp, he couldn't see anyone he would or could use as an alternate for Curley. Slade didn't trust any of the gunhawks any further than he could throw them and he sure as hell couldn't trust any of them to be around Madrid.

Slade nodded, "Alright, Curley. You ride with us as far as you can or until I can find someone to replace you. Can't pay you what the others are going to get, but I'll do right by you."

Curley nodded.

Satisfied, Slade started giving orders to the men.

...********

"Johnny, lay down," Scott was helping his brother down into his bedroll. He put his bedroll next to Johnny's. "Do you want some water?"

Johnny shook his head as he settled down and moaned. Exhaustion was overtaking him, but the pain shooting through his back kept him from resting.

"Johnny, I'm going to give you some laudanum," Scott took the little brown bottle the doctor had left and measured out a dose of the medicine into a cup.

Scott added water to the cup and handed it to Johnny, who promptly pushed it away. "Not this time, little brother. You can't go on like this. You have to get some rest."

Johnny started to protest again. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back; too tired to fight any longer. Raising up on one elbow, he took the cup and drained it.

"Go to sleep. I'll be right here," Scott smiled as he watched Johnny roll to his side and drift off.

Scott walked outside just as the sun started to dip over the horizon. Long shadows were disappearing as night was falling. Scott watched as men moved to surround the tent and several campfires lit up the area. Slade was going from man to man giving instructions.

Val walked up to Scott with his bedroll in his hand.

"There's room on the other side of Johnny, Val. My bedroll is already down," Scott smiled and nodded toward the tent. Murdoch's going to sleep on the cot."

Val nodded and went into the tent, smiling when he saw the sleeping man. He untied his bedroll and unrolled it next to his friend. Murdoch and Scott came in as Val brushed the hair back from Johnny's forehead.

"I got a dose of laudanum down him," Scott said as he sat down and took off his boots. "He should sleep tonight."

...********

It was close to midnight when Johnny started to stir. Murdoch's snoring had brought him out a laudanum-induced sleep. Johnny looked around. It appeared that even Murdoch's snoring couldn't disturb Scott and Val's sleep.

Johnny was cold and tried pulling his blanket closer. He'd wanted to move closer to Scott but didn't want to disturb him. Pushing himself into a sitting position, Johnny stood up. Looking around, he saw his boots sitting in the corner of the tent. He didn't feel like putting them on.

Slowly, he moved outside the tent and took in the surroundings. He could see several campfires burning and men sleeping near the tent. He could also hear men walking the perimeter of the camp.

The cold night air was a shock to him. Looking back inside the tent, he walked back to get his blanket and considered his boots again. Picking up the blanket, he went back outside, leaving the boots behind.

Wrapping his arms around himself, he moved slowly to the closest campfire. Sitting down, he crossed his legs under him and wrestled the blanket around his shoulders.

Johnny watched the flames of the fire dance as he thought about the last two weeks. How had things gone so wrong? It was a good plan... well, it was a plan. It would have worked too if it hadn't been for Sanchez.

The thought of Sanchez sent a tremor through his body. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Sanchez and feel the blows of the man's fist and the kick of his boot.

The pain in his back flared; a constant reminder of Sanchez. Johnny shuddered and tried to block out the memory of the sound the whip made as Sanchez drew back his arm and then snapped the whip forward. The crack of the whip and the searing pain that the sound had meant plagued him both night and day.

The sound of footsteps caused Johnny to tense up. He knew someone was coming up on his right side and realized he didn't have his gun with him.

"Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?" Johnny heard Slade's voice and relaxed.

"Slept some," Johnny drawled. "My old man's snoring could wake the devil."

"Yeah," Slade laughed, "some of the men moved away from the tent earlier. Said they couldn't get any sleep with all that noise." Slade poked the fire with a stick. "You come to terms with us working for your Pa?"

"You mean have I come to terms with my old man hiring gunhawks to protect me. How would you feel if someone hired me to protect you?" Johnny looked sideways at Slade.

"I'd be mad as hell," Slade laughed.

"You know I'm not going to let you or anyone step in for me if I'm called out," Johnny looked back at the fire.

"I told your Pa that I wouldn't mix in your private business, Madrid," Slade said softly. "Being called out is a man's private business."

Johnny nodded his understanding.

It wasn't long until Johnny's head dropped toward his chest and then jerked up.

"Think you should go on back to bed," Slade looked over his shoulder to see Val standing behind them.

"Guess so," Johnny looked back into the fire. "You gonna' stand there, Val, or you gonna' give me a hand?"

"You knew he was there?" Slade asked as Val moved next to Johnny.

"He's got the best hearing of anyone I know," Val said as he squatted down. "Johnny, tell Slade how many men he's got walking perimeter right now."

Johnny smiled and closed his eyes. "There are four out there. Three are walking around, and you've got one that's taking a piss." He opened his eyes and looked beyond the fire and cocked his head. "Molly's crying and Joe's trying to calm her. I hope she's alright."

"Impressive," Slade commented as he shifted.

"Come on, amigo," Val put a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "Let's not wake your Pa. I think he just got a rhythm going and he don't sound so loud now. Night, Slade."

Johnny struggled to his feet trying to hold the blanket around him. He leaned against Val, who steadied him before guiding him back to the tent.

They moved back into the tent, and Val helped Johnny to lay back down and covered him up. Val laid down and pulled a blanket over himself. Johnny rolled to his side.

"Night, Papi," Johnny whispered as he began to snuggle into the bedroll.

"Night, hijo," Val reached over and touched the back of Johnny's head. He smiled when he felt the boy move his head into his hand.

...********

Morning brought a flurry of activity.

Cipriano and the men from Lancer came to say their goodbyes to Johnny.

Johnny shook hands with Frank, Walt, Jose, and Juan before turning to his uncle.

"Be careful, Sobrino," Cipriano told Johnny as he put a hand behind the young man's neck and pulled him closer.

"I'll do my best, Tio," Johnny smiled. "Thank you for coming."

"Cipriano, wire us in Phoenix when you get back," Murdoch said watching the exchange between Cipriano and his son. "Leave the horses at the livery in Tucson."

"Si, Patron," Cipriano let Johnny go and turned to Murdoch.

Johnny watched as his uncle and the men from Lancer rode away. He turned back to see Joe and Molly walking towards him.

Molly reached out and pulled him gently into her arms.

"Thank you, Johnny, for saving my life and for saving Joe. I don't think we can repay you for all you've done for us," Molly said as she took a deep breath and let him go.

Joe reached out to shake Johnny's hand. "Johnny, thank you."

"I'm glad it worked out, Joe," Johnny said.

Murdoch moved to stand next to his son, "If you ever get a chance to get to California, you'll have a place to stay with us."

"We'll keep that in mind, Murdoch," Joe said.

Murdoch turned to look at Slade. "Are you ready, Mr. Slade?"

"Any time you are, Mr. Lancer," Slade answered. "Mount up," he called out and watched as the gunfighters he'd hired mounted and waited to move out.

After saying their goodbyes to Joe and Molly, the small troop started north. Tucson was only 60 miles from Nogales, but to Johnny, getting any distance away from the border was a relief.

Johnny rode double with Scott most of the morning. As time passed, it became evident that he wasn't going to be able to stay in the saddle. Finally, he conceded to riding in the back of the wagon.

Scott had rigged a tarp over the wagon bed to provide shade for his brother. Once Scott and Val had Johnny in the wagon, Scott gave him a dose of laudanum. Johnny laid down and drifted off to sleep as the wagon rumbled on.

At first, it seemed they had found a way to keep moving and for Johnny to rest. It didn't take long for them to realize the jarring of the wagon was causing enough pain that even the laudanum wasn't effective. The result turned out to be more frequent stops. Johnny went back to riding double with Scott by mid-afternoon.

Slade sent men ahead to scout the trail and to find a place for them to camp that night. They'd made good time that day even with a late start and the frequent stops. By the time they arrived at the night camp, the scouts had it set up and the fires started.

Murdoch stepped down from the saddle and stretched his back. "Mr. Slade, how far do you think we came today?"

"Close to thirty miles. We should be in Tucson tomorrow. Should get to town right at dark," Slade answered as he stepped down from his horse.

Slade looked over at Johnny, who was sitting up against a wagon wheel with his head leaning back. "Mr. Lancer, I don't fancy going into Tucson at night. I'm going to suggest we travel until about noon tomorrow and stop. We can go into Tucson the following morning."

Murdoch nodded, "I don't have a problem with that. In fact, I would prefer it. I think John could do with some rest tomorrow afternoon. I'll take Scott and Val into Tucson and check on the doctor and make arrangements for hotel rooms for the night we're there. I want to do some shopping as well."

"Hotel rooms?" Slade asked.

"Don't worry Mr. Slade. I'll be paying for the rooms," Murdoch said.

"It's not that, Mr. Lancer. If we have rooms, I want to make sure I pick out the locations of the rooms. I want my men on either side and directly across from yours," Slade answered.

"I appreciate that. I'll make sure the rooms are together, and I'll let you make the room assignments when we check in," Murdoch nodded.

Murdoch walked over to Johnny and knelt. He put a hand on his son's shoulder. "John?" he said in a soft voice.

Johnny raised his head. Murdoch could see how tired he was.

"I'm ready to call it a night right now," Johnny sighed.

"I know," Murdoch smiled. "Let's get you something to eat and then we can settle you in the back of the wagon tonight."

"Not the wagon," Johnny protested.

Scott had squatted down next to Murdoch. "What he means, Sir is that there isn't enough room in the back of the wagon for all of us. He wants to make sure he can keep me warm tonight," Scott laughed.

"Yeah, Boston, wouldn't want you to get cold," Johnny said barely keeping his head up.

"Alright," Murdoch conceded. "Whatever you say. Scott can you make some broth for your brother while Val and I take care of the horses."

"Mr. Lancer," Slade had moved over and was listening to the exchange, "I'll get some of the men to take care of the horses. You get Madrid situated." He was walking away when they heard him say "I'm going to set up guards around camp."

"Murdoch," Val leaned in, "you're the boss here. Taking care of the horses and getting the camp set up is Slade's job. He'll take care of everything that needs doing."

Murdoch nodded his understanding. "Is that how it always is?" Murdoch asked. "I've never hired ..."

Johnny looked at his father and smiled, "You've never had to hire guns before, Murdoch. When you're paying the money, I think you're paying Slade; you don't do anything. Slade will do the thinking and the lifting."

"What about the cooking?" Scott asked.

"That, too," Val answered. "I'll let them know you'll be making Johnny's food though."

Both Murdoch and Scott looked at Val.

"You don't trust them to fix his food?" Scott inquired.

"Not that exactly," he hesitated looking around to make sure no one was close to them. "It's just that until he's back to eating normal again, I think we need to make sure we know what's in his food," Val said quietly. The entire time thinking, he didn't trust any of them to fix Johnny's food.

The next hour was spent getting the bedrolls down and eating supper. The sun was setting as Scott helped Johnny down for the night.

Val walked over to Slade, "Slade, we're gonna' call it a night. Just remind the others that Johnny sleeps with his gun. Make sure no one startles him during the night."

"I think we all sleep with our gun, Crawford," Slade looked over at Johnny and saw that his right hand was under his head. "Good to know though."

Val nodded and went back to lie down next to Johnny. The camp quickly settled down.

...********

Johnny was awakened the next morning by Scott. He felt his brother's hand on his shoulder and another holding his right hand down.

"Sleep well?" Scott asked. He noticed that although Johnny had moved closer to him to get warm during the night, he hadn't woken once.

"Yeah, I did. Guess I was worn out," Johnny answered with a yawn.

"You haven't had a good night's sleep in almost two weeks. I guess you were due," Scott smiled.

"We about ready to get moving?" Johnny asked as he sat up with a wince.

"As soon as we get some breakfast. Are you hungry?" Scott asked as he helped Johnny to stand.

"I could eat. Let me guess, I get a choice between broth and broth," Johnny laughed.

"I can add a biscuit if you feel like you can keep it down?" Scott asked.

"We can sure try it," Johnny answered. "How about some coffee first?"

Everyone went about his morning routines and then had breakfast. The sun was barely coming up as they broke camp and set out.

The day went well. By early afternoon they had reached their next campsite. Slade had once again sent men ahead to pick out the site and get the campfires going. They were now a little over 10 miles from Tucson.

Johnny was sitting against a wagon wheel watching the camp activity. Murdoch came over and knelt next to him. "Son, I'm going on into Tucson with Scott and Val. We'll be back by dark. I want to make sure we have rooms in town tomorrow night, and I want to talk to the doctor."

"I know the doctor in Tucson," Johnny said. "His name is... Say, Val," Johnny called out. "What's the Doc's name in Tucson?"

"Doc Spencer," several voices called back.

"I guess a lot of us have met the Doc," Johnny laughed. "His office is across from the hotel."

"Do you want anything special, little brother?" Scott asked. "Peppermint sticks maybe?"

"Peppermint sounds good," Johnny's eyes lit up, and he grinned. "Slade sending any men in with you?"

"Val said two of the men were going to go in with us. That will leave nine with you," Scott answered.

Slade walked up. "I'm sending Bryant and Lambert with you, Mr. Lancer." He looked at Johnny, "You gonna' sit here, Madrid, or are you gonna' lay down?"

"I'm gonna' lay down," Johnny answered. "Scott, can you put my bedroll next to the wagon?"

"Sure, come on, and I'll help you lay down before we leave," Scott took the bedroll and unrolled it near the back of the wagon.

"Don't forget those peppermint sticks," Johnny grinned again as Scott helped him down.

Scott pulled a blanket over his brother.

"I won't," Scott answered as he turned to mount up. "Get some rest."

Johnny was almost asleep by the time his family rode away.

Slade looked around and started placing his men around the camp. For the next three hours, he made frequent trips around the camp and each time he looked to see that Madrid was still sleeping. He smiled noting the boy's right hand was under his head. At least he knew where Madrid's gun was.

He heard the horses making noise and moved to check on them, glancing back over his shoulder to check on Johnny as he did.

Finding nothing wrong with the horses, Slade walked back to the campfire and poured a cup of coffee. He started to take a sip and looked across the camp. He dropped the cup and cursed. "Bonner, Stewart, where the hell's Madrid?"

...********

Johnny had laid down a little nervous that his family wasn't close by. Always sleeping with one ear open, he'd heard Slade's men walking around the outside of the camp. Finally, he felt he could relax and was soon asleep.

He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping when he faintly remembered someone near him. He felt a hand go over his mouth and nose. Waking with a start, he started to struggle. He took a couple of breaths and then there was nothing.

The next thing he remembered, was waking up to find he was on horseback and that his hands were tied in front of him. He could hear the voices of two men. He started to struggle, and again a hand covered his nose and mouth. He could smell what he knew was chloroform and turned his face away from it, before starting to throw up.

"We have to stop," someone started yelling. "Damn. He's puking all over me."

Johnny felt himself being pulled off the horse and thrown to the ground by two pairs of hands.

"You get cleaned up and clean him up. I'll see how far they're behind us. We need to head south and quick," someone else said.

"They're taking me back to Mexico," the thought ran through Johnny's groggy mind.

He lay still, and half opened his eyes. He saw and felt a man trying to clean the front of his shirt and pants. He couldn't see anyone else. The man, leaning over him, wore his gun low on his right hip. Johnny realized it was one of the gunfighters Slade had hired.

Slowly, he rolled his head and moaned. The man started to come toward him with a cloth in his hand. Johnny knew the cloth had more chloroform on it. As the man knelt to cover Johnny's face, the young gunfighter turned his head violently so that the man had to reach across him.

Johnny's hands were tied together, but he still had control of his right hand. The moment the man leaned across him, Johnny pulled the gun from the man's holster, swung it around, and fired. The bullet hit the man between the eyes. He fell across Johnny's legs pinning them to the ground.

Johnny struggled to stay awake. The cloth soaked with chloroform had fallen next to his head. The fumes were overpowering. As he struggled to get out from under the fallen man, he heard a noise off to his right. His head snapped around to see three men. One was on horseback, and two were walking toward him.

"Stop," Johnny coughed, pointing the gun at the two men. "No... closer...drop your guns."

Johnny recognized the two men on foot as Bonner and Stewart. Martin was still on his horse.

"Madrid," Stewart said, "we've been looking for you."

"I... bet... you... have," Johnny coughed weakly. "Don't move and don't come any closer."

"We'd better get Slade," Bonner turned to the man on horseback. "Martin, go get Slade. Tell him we found Madrid."

"Madrid, you need to let us help you," Bonner was saying as he took a step forward.

"Don't move," Johnny called out and pointed the gun at Bonner. "Help me? Like this one helped me?" Johnny nodded at the man that still lay across his legs. "You want to take me back to Mexico, too?"

"Mexico? No. We need to get you back to camp," Bonner answered. "It's me, Madrid. It's Bonner. Your old man is going to throw a fit. We need to get you back."

"I know who you are," Johnny could hardly hold the gun up. His mind was reeling, not knowing who to trust.

...********

Murdoch, Scott, Val, and the two gunfighters rode into camp only to find it mostly deserted. Larry Tate was the only one man left at the campsite.

Murdoch looked around and saw Johnny's bedroll empty.

"Where is everyone?" Murdoch asked Tate. Not waiting for an answer to his first question, he asked, "Where's my son?"

Tate looked at Murdoch, his face soon filled with panic. He'd hoped they would find Madrid before his father and brother returned from Tucson. Now, here he was facing the giant of a man. Tate mustered as much voice as he could before he answered, "We don't know where Madrid is, Mr. Lancer. Everyone is out looking for him."

"What do you mean you don't know where he is?" Murdoch was bellowing. "How long has he been gone?"

"We found him missing about an hour ago," Tate took two steps back. Murdoch was towering over him. Tate wanted to reach for his gun and wisely thought better of it.

Val's heart was racing as he stepped between Murdoch and the young gunfighter. "Tate, did he walk off by himself or did someone take him?"

Tate took a deep breath.

"We found a cloth with what smelled like chloroform on it. Looks like someone took Madrid out of camp," Tate answered Val while still looking at Murdoch. "Slade is tracking them now. They went off to the west."

"Johnny can't handle chloroform," Val said, "makes him sick to his stomach. He'll be puking his guts out."

Murdoch had turned several shades of red.

The sound of a horse coming in fast turned everyone's attention away from Tate. Martin rode into camp. "Where'd Slade go? We found Madrid, but he won't let any of us come near him."

"Is he hurt?" Scott asked knowing the question foremost on his father's mind.

Martin looked first at Scott and then at Murdoch, "I honestly don't know."

"Val. Scott," Murdoch said controlling his voice, "go with Martin and bring my son back."

"Where is he, Martin?" Val asked as he rushed to remount his horse.

"About two miles west of here," Martin answered as he spun his horse around. "Tate, stay here with Bryant and Lambert. If anyone else comes in, keep them here."

Val and Scott followed Martin out at a gallop.

...********

Slade heard a gunshot and started riding in the direction of the sound. He saw Bonner and Stewart standing together looking across a clearing. Their gun belts were on the ground in front of them. He dismounted and slowly walked up beside them. They looked around with a sense of relief on their faces.

"Thank God you're here," Bonner said. "We found him, but he ain't letting us near him. He don't know who he can trust."

Slade saw Madrid lying on the ground with his hands tied and holding a gun. Jackson was lying across his legs. It was clear the young man was having a hard time keeping the gun steady.

"Madrid," Slade said softly and took a few steps toward him. "You need to give me the gun. We're going to take you back to camp."

Curley, Cox, and Booth rode in. Slade waved them off. "Go over there with Bonner and Stewart. Don't make any quick moves."

Johnny raised the gun again. "Slade…. stop," he coughed. It was all he could do to hold the gun up, let alone aim it.

"I know you're having a hard time trusting any of us right now," Slade took another step forward, "but you can trust us. I know you're hurting and I know you're tired."

"I'm not going back to Mexico. I've already told you that. You made me a promise, Slade," Johnny knew he couldn't hold the gun any longer. He laid the gun on his chest with the barrel pointed toward his head.

Slade saw the move and took a deep breath. He squatted down. "I'm not going to push you, Johnny. I made you a promise, and I'll still keep it if it's necessary. It isn't right now. We aren't going to take you to Mexico. I promise you that, too," he said in a soft voice.

Johnny's eyes were closing. He had no choice but to trust Slade. He was a good judge of character. He trusted Slade as much as he could trust any of them. Slowly, he moved the barrel of the gun to point to the side.

"Can I come on over?" Slade asked as he stood up.

Johnny didn't answer. Slade could see that his eyes were closed. It looked like he was sleeping.

Slade let out a breath and waved the others forward just as Scott, Val, and Martin rode in.

Scott jumped down and started to run to his brother when Slade grabbed his arm. "He's confused. Let me get the gun first," he said to Scott.

Slade slowly walked over and knelt down. He took the gun from Johnny's hand thinking that this would be probably the only time he would ever disarm this particular man. He waved Scott over. Together they moved Jackson off of Johnny's legs.

Scott shook his brother's shoulder. Johnny's eyes opened slowly.

"Can't leave you alone for even a couple of hours without you getting into trouble can I, little brother?" Scott said as he untied Johnny's hands.

"Guess not," Johnny said weakly. He reached up and pushed the chloroform rag away from his head. "The old man gonna' be mad?"

"Nope. Not at you at least," Scott smiled and then looked at Slade. "You hurt anywhere I don't already know about?" Scott asked.

"I don't think so," Johnny tried to push himself up, only to fall back with a groan.

"Alright, amigo, let's get you back to camp," Val said as he knelt next to Johnny. "Slade, he's gonna' ride double with you."

Both Slade and Scott looked at him questioning the comment.

"Murdoch needs to see Slade bringing Johnny back," Val answered their unasked question, "Slade lost the boy. Slade found him. Slade needs to be the one to take him back."

They all mounted, and Scott and Val lifted Johnny in front of Slade. Slade put his arm around Johnny and pulled him back against him. He wasn't looking forward to facing his boss.

...********

There was noise; too much noise. Johnny hurt all over, and the noise seemed to awaken every nerve in his body. He tried to block the pain and the sound but wasn't able to do either. He recognized his father's voice bellowing, and it was cutting right through him.

Johnny opened his eyes and slowly turned over. He could see his father towering over Slade. Murdoch was yelling at the gunfighter.

"Not a good thing to be doing, old man," Johnny thought. Yelling at a man like Slade was never a wise move.

Johnny pushed himself into a sitting position. His gun belt was lying next to him. Pushing unsteadily to his feet, he took a second to get his balance and put on his rig. Straightening his unbuttoned shirt, he started walking toward his father.

As he slowly walked toward the center of camp, he could see now that Murdoch and Slade were the centers of attention. Val and Scott stood behind Murdoch, while the gunfighters stood around the campfire. They were all watching the exchange between Slade and Murdoch.

"Yes, but you hired the man," Murdoch was saying. Johnny hadn't caught what Slade had said before that. Slade had his right hand on the butt of his gun and was looking at the ground while kicking dirt with the toe of his boot.

It was obvious that Murdoch was on a roll and not being intimidated by the gunfighter.

Johnny watched Slade and then said in a low soft voice, "You might as well give up, Slade."

All eyes turned to Johnny. "You can't win an argument with him. I should know. Just do what I do. Say 'yes sir' and keep nodding like you agree with him."

"Kinda' figured that out a while back," Slade said with a drawl and glanced sideways at Johnny.

"John," Murdoch turned on him, "you should be resting."

Johnny snorted, "No way I can rest with all the yelling, old man. What's the problem?"

"Slade was supposed to be watching you while we rode into Tucson. It was one of the men that he hired that took you today," Murdoch's voice had leveled out.

"I know," Johnny drawled without emotion in his voice.

"You know?" Scott moved to stand beside Murdoch.

"Yeah, I know. Only one of the men Slade hired would have gotten close enough to get me out of camp, without someone else noticing," Johnny had moved to sit on a camp stool near the fire.

"He was supposed to make sure...," Murdoch had started to say.

"Murdoch, leave it," Johnny jumped in. "There was no way Slade could have known that Jackson was going to try and collect the reward."

"But Johnny...," Scott began.

"I said leave it, Scott," Johnny's voice had gone Madrid.

"John Ruiz Lancer don't you use that tone of voice with your brother," Murdoch had turned away from Slade and was facing Johnny.

Slade, grateful that Murdoch's attention had been the diverted, took his hand off the butt of his gun and stood up straighter. He smiled thinking that the older man's temper was now directed at Madrid.

"What tone of voice?" Johnny's Madrid voice was now matching his best Madrid glare.

"Ruiz," he thought, "I never knew what my middle name was. Mama used the name a lot. Now I know why."

"You know perfectly well what tone of voice and don't you pull that Madrid look on me, young man. It doesn't scare me," Murdoch said.

"That so?" Johnny held his glare.

"Johnny...," Val had started to say something.

Johnny looked at Val with the same expression on his face.

"That's enough," Murdoch's voice had gone up again, "that look doesn't scare Val either."

Val dipped his head and spoke up, "Murdoch, that look does kinda' scare me."

"Nonsense," Murdoch growled.

Johnny tilted his head and slightly shook it.

Murdoch suddenly realized he was threatening his son's authority in the eyes of the gunfighters standing around him.

"Alright, I'll leave it… for now," Murdoch was still fuming. He turned back to look at Slade. "I just have a hard time understanding how eight highly professional gunfighters could lose one 18- year old boy."

Johnny looked at Slade. Slade had a smile on his face and was shaking his head. Val was choking back a laugh.

"Told you. There's no way you're gonna' win an argument with him," Johnny laughed. "And it's 19, not 18. You missed a birthday," Johnny looked at Murdoch.

Murdoch had started a rebuttal and then stopped. "No, it's 18," Murdoch stated firmly looking at Johnny. "You turned 18 this last December. December 23rd to be exact."

Johnny frowned and looked toward Val. Val shrugged. The exchange between the two wasn't lost on Murdoch or Scott.

Scott looked at his brother. He had never given thought to how old his little brother was. A sudden reality hit him. If Johnny was only 18 now, then at what age had he actually killed his first man.

A more sickening thought came to him. If Johnny was 18 years old now, it would have been a 17-year-old Johnny Madrid that had been captured by the Rurales last year and sentenced to die in front of a firing squad. There was so much he still needed and wanted to learn about his brother.

"The point is, Slade has a job," Murdoch had turned back to Slade. "That job is to protect this family. All of the family."

"Slade has a bigger problem," Johnny looked at Slade. "Jackson wasn't alone."

There was a murmur around the camp.

"You know who the other man was?" Slade asked turning toward Johnny.

"Nope," Johnny answered.

"Do you remember anything?" Scott asked.

"I remember the smell of chloroform. After that, I was sitting on a horse with my hands tied and heading for Mexico. I heard Jackson talking to another man about needing to stop," Johnny answered.

"Why did they stop?" Slade asked. "If Jackson hadn't stopped where he did, we may not have caught up with you."

"Well, I puked all over him and the horse," Johnny grinned. "I don't do well with chloroform."

"That's what we heard," Scott said looking toward Val.

"Is that when you got his gun and shot him?" Val quickly asked.

"Naw," Johnny looked at the ground. "I got his gun when he tried to use the chloroform again. Never got a look at the other man. I can figure out who he was though."

"How?" Scott looked around the camp at the gunfighters.

Johnny grinned, "Easy. Slade, who was with you in camp when you found me gone?"

Slade looked around. "Tate, Stewart, and Bonner for sure," Slade looked around.

"Okay. You three go stand next to Slade," Johnny nodded and motioned toward Slade.

"Bryant and Lambert were with us in Tucson," Val spoke up seeing what Johnny was doing. "You two go over next to Slade."

Bryant and Lambert moved across the camp.

"That leaves four of you." Johnny chuckled, "Curly, I could smell you a mile away. I know it wasn't you."

Curley grinned and scratched the back of his head as he moved to stand near Slade.

Johnny looked at the three remaining gunfighters. "Martin, where were you at when Slade found me missing?"

"I was with Curley," Martin quickly answered.

"That's right, Johnny," Curley spoke up, "Martin was with me when we heard Slade yelling."

"So that leaves you two, Cox and Booth," Johnny stood and walked to face the two men. He studied them closely, his right hand on the butt of his Colt.

The two gunfighters looked at Slade and then at Johnny.

"Wasn't me," Cox quickly said. "Slade might not remember, but I was in camp when he saw you were gone."

"I was in camp too," Booth spoke up.

Johnny walked closer to the two men. "Slade, come over here," Johnny looked around and motioned Slade over.

Slade walked over to stand next to Johnny.

"Slade, do you smell anything on me?" Johnny asked with a slight smile.

Slade hesitated and then leaned forward cautiously and sniffed Johnny.

"You smell pretty damn bad, Madrid," Slade leaned back. "Smell a lot like sweat, blood, and dirt, but also like chloroform and a lot like puke."

Johnny nodded. "Now what does Cox smell like?"

Slade leaned into Cox. His nose wrinkled. "Damn, boy, you need a bath bad. When was the last time you took a bath?"

"Yeah, he does need a bath," Johnny leaned back quickly, "but do you smell anything like chloroform or puke on him?"

"Not really," Slade was waving his hand in front of his face. "We get to Tucson you go to the bathhouse first thing."

"Now, what about Booth?" Johnny stepped in front of Booth. He gave the man a cold hard stare and watched as Booth took a step back; his eyes darting left to right.

Slade moved over to Booth and leaned in. "Booth, you stink too, but you smell more like puke than you do chloroform. What'd you do, let Jackson take care of the chloroform?"

Booth pulled his gun and pointed it first at Slade and then at Johnny.

The gunfighters in camp all started for their guns.

Everyone could see Booth panicking. "No one move. I'm riding out of here. Anyone try anything, and I put a bullet in Madrid."

"Booth, you're probably the dumbest gunhawk I've ever met," Val laughed. "How the hell have you lived this long? You just drew down on Jack Slade and Johnny Madrid. You got a death wish?"

"Madrid, what do you want us to do with him?" Slade glanced sideways at Johnny.

Johnny thought for a minute. "Let him go. Booth, you'll need to keep looking over your shoulder. I don't think these fellows are going to forget about you and I know for a fact that someday you and me are gonna' meet again."

Booth backed out of camp and mounted his horse.

"It wasn't anything personal, Madrid," Booth said as he rode away.

Johnny turned around and walked back to stand in front of Murdoch. "You calmed down yet, old man?"

Murdoch sighed and put a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "I suppose. I was just..." Murdoch wanted to say he was scared out of his mind when he'd found his son missing.

"I know," Johnny smiled and put his hand over his father's. Looking around, he changed the subject. "So, did you have a good trip to Tucson?"

"We did, little brother," Scott moved over and put an arm gently around Johnny. "We did some shopping and got new clothes for you, Val, and me. We also found the doctor."

Johnny sat down on the tailgate of the wagon and let his legs swing. Scott sat down beside him.

"You alright?" Scott asked.

"I'm alright. A little tired," Johnny looked at Scott expectantly. "You get the peppermint sticks?"

"Peppermint? I got licorice," Scott held a bag out with a big grin on his face. "Want a piece?" He took a piece of licorice out, popped it in his mouth, and started to chew.

Johnny's eyes narrowed looking at his brother. "Scott, you know I don't like licorice. Where's my peppermint?" he asked with a raised voice.

"I told you I didn't get peppermint. I got licorice," Scott was smiling.

"Scott...," Johnny looked like his feelings were hurt.

Murdoch and Val were sitting by the fire and listening to the two boy's banter. Val shook his head and huffed.

"You or me?" Val asked as he looked at Murdoch.

"Me," Murdoch replied and stood up. He turned around and looked at his two sons and almost chuckled. "Boys!"

Scott ducked his head.

"John, stop pouting," Murdoch said looking at the expression on his youngest son's face.

"I ain't pouting," Johnny shot back. "Scott knows I hate licorice."

"Little brother, you are the master of pouting," Scott laughed.

Murdoch shook his head. "Scott, stop teasing your brother. Give him his peppermint sticks."

Scott reached behind his back and brought out a peppermint stick and handed it to Johnny. Johnny accepted it with a sheepish grin on his face. "Thanks. Knew you wouldn't forget."

Johnny looked around. He was contented now. He saw Tate standing nearby. "Tate, you want a piece of peppermint," Johnny asked.

"Naw, Johnny," Tate smiled, "I like licorice. You got any more, Scott?"

Scott smiled and held out the bag of licorice to the young gunfighter. The three young men laughed as Tate took a piece of licorice and popped it in his mouth.

Slade had been watching and listening to the exchange between the brothers. He'd watched Madrid go from a hardened gunfighter to a smiling, playful teenager in a matter of minutes.

Thinking back on the events of the afternoon, he remembered the man that had laid a gun on his chest and pointed the barrel toward his head. He wondered if Madrid would have gone through with ending his own life versus going back to Mexico. Deep down he was glad he didn't know the answer.

Johnny suddenly took a sharp breath and leaned forward. The events of the day were catching up with him. "Think I need to get some rest if we're going into Tucson tomorrow." He slid off the wagon and stood on shaky legs. Scott was beside him instantly.

Johnny let his brother guide him to his bedroll.

...********

The next morning Johnny dressed in the new clothes Murdoch had bought him, a plain light blue shirt and tan pants.

"We bought you a new coat," Scott said as he held out the coat to his brother. "We lost the jacket you borrowed from me somewhere along the line."

Scott knew precisely where the jacket was. They had draped it over Johnny's shoulders as they rode away from the camp near the prison. By the time they had stopped to treat the wounds on his brother's back the jacket was saturated with blood. Scott had tossed the bloody garment aside and never thought about it again.

Johnny accepted the new coat and slipped it on. The extra warmth felt good.

Val looked at Johnny and smiled. Except for the gun on his hip, the boy looked like any other young kid. Val had known Johnny for a lot of years. He realized now that Johnny must have been about five years old when he'd met him and his Mama for the first time. He'd always thought the boy looked young for his age, now finding out for sure he was only 18-years- old Val understood why.

They broke camp and started to Tucson. Slade sent most of the men into town ahead of them.

Johnny rode double with Scott until they got to the outskirts of town. Once there, Scott scooted off the horse leaving Johnny by himself. Scott mounted another horse, as they started into town.

...********

Carl Wilson had been sheriff of Tucson for almost five years. It wasn't an easy town to work in.

Tucson was a little over 60 miles north of the Mexican border. It wasn't unusual to see gunfighters and cowhands moving through on a daily basis.

Wilson was always on the lookout for trouble. Gunfights in the streets of Tucson were almost a daily event. The last two weeks had seen a change in that.

Fourteen days ago, it seemed that all hell had broken loose in Mexico. Telegrams coming from Nogales had told everyone that there had been a prison break in Nuevo Casa Granda.

Usually, word of a prison break wouldn't have even caused a ripple on the American side of the border. This time, however, the name Madrid was associated with the break.

Two days after the prison break, Wilson noted the first gunfighters traveling through town and heading south. The gunfighters that had been in town started moving south as well.

Word quickly spread north that Nogales was a powder keg and was waiting for Madrid to light the fuse. Finally, four days ago Tucson had received word that Madrid had crossed the border.

It wasn't long before the town started filling up with the gunfighters that had been in Nogales. Wilson was nervous. The gunfighters weren't moving on and they weren't fighting either. They seemed to be waiting for something or someone.

Yesterday Wilson had seen two gunfighters come into town with, what appeared to be, three ranchers. He'd watched the men as they visited the doctor's office, the hotel, and the Mercantile. After they left each location, Wilson had inquired with the local businesses and the doctor as to what their business was.

Doc Spencer said the tall rancher was Murdoch Lancer from California. He was going to be in town the next day with his son and wanted the Doc to take a look at the boy.

The sheriff visited the hotel to find out that the rancher had reserved eight rooms for the next night. He also discovered that the rancher had bought clothing and supplies at the Mercantile. All in all, he didn't find anything to worry about.

Wilson was making his rounds when he saw two sets of gunfighters ride in from the south. Four men dismounted near the doctor's office. Three more men stood outside the hotel. They weren't causing any trouble. They also seemed to be waiting.

...********

Slade rode several yards ahead of Murdoch, Val, Scott, and Johnny, hoping that the sight of him would keep eyes off of Madrid.

Johnny was slumped slightly in the saddle with his hat pulled down over his eyes. Murdoch was riding on his left. Scott and Val rode somewhat behind them. Martin followed in the wagon.

Carl Wilson watched as Jack Slade rode into Tucson. Having a gunhawk of Slade's caliber in town was causing him some worry. He didn't even notice the tall rancher and his group as they moved through town.

Slade dismounted up the street from the doctor's office and looked around. He nodded to the four men he'd sent ahead. Slowly, he walked down the boardwalk and stopped in front of the doctor's office.

Slade smiled watching Madrid ride in. He was relieved that no one was paying the famous gunfighter any attention.

As Slade watched Madrid, it amazed him how young the boy looked. He'd been surprised when he heard Lancer tell everyone, including Madrid himself, that he was only18 years old. Anyone watching the boy now would be hard pressed to believe he was a gunfighter, let alone Johnny Madrid

Slade gave himself a mental slap. Madrid wasn't a boy; he was a man. This was the man who had blown up a prison and freed 200 men. He was also the same man that only a few days earlier, had commanded a small army of men and faced down a hundred Rurales.

The man he was watching ride into town had a reputation as one of the fastest and deadliest guns in the west. A reputation that rivaled his own.

Slade noted that the sheriff was watching his every move. "Can't be helped," he thought.

Murdoch stopped in front of the doctor's office and dismounted. Val and Scott had dismounted and were moving to hold Johnny's horse as Murdoch helped his son down.

Johnny leaned against the saddle and closed his eyes, fighting off the dizziness that threatened to bring him to his knees. He felt his father's arm surround him as he was pulled gently against the tall man's chest. Finally, getting his balance, he looked up at his father, smiled, and nodded. "I'm ready."

Murdoch looked at Slade and nodded. Slade opened the door to the doctor's office and stepped inside.

...********

Doctor Jerome Spencer had been the doctor in Tucson for 12 years. He was a busy man as the majority of his work came from gunshot wounds. It didn't surprise him to see a gunfighter walk into his office. It did surprise him to see that it was Jack Slade.

"Mr. Slade," Spencer looked at the gunfighter wondering where he was injured.

"Doc," Slade answered, tipping his hat. Slade quickly moved through the office and looked in each of the rooms. Finding no one else there, he returned to face the doctor.

"Are you hurt?" Spencer asked as he watched the gunfighter look through the building.

"Not me this time, Doc," Slade spoke up and looked toward the door. He nodded to Bonner. The doctor followed his gaze.

Murdoch walked into the room and looked at Slade and then at the doctor.

"Doctor Spencer," Murdoch said taking off his hat. "I'm hoping you'll forgive us, but Mr. Slade is just making sure it's safe for us to come in."

"Safe," Spencer sputtered, "of course, it's safe in here. Mr. Lancer, I've been expecting you. Did you bring your son?"

"I did, Doctor," Murdoch smiled and turned around to the door. "John."

Johnny strolled into the room. He took his hat off and looked up at the doctor. "Doc," he said, "been a while."

"Do I know you, young man?" Spencer didn't recognize the boy that stood before him.

Johnny smiled, and his blue eyes met the doctor's eyes.

"Madrid!" Spencer stated, realizing who was standing in front of him.

"Yeah," Johnny shifted his weight and leaned into Murdoch.

"Mr. Lancer, you said you were bringing your son. Johnny Madrid is your son?" Spencer asked looking at the young man using the tall rancher for support.

"Yes, Doctor Spencer, Johnny is my youngest son, and he needs your help," Murdoch had placed an arm around Johnny's shoulders.

"Of course, go through to the first examination room on your right," Spencer stood aside and waved Murdoch and Johnny through.

Val and Scott moved into the room and stood on either side of the door. Slade walked back out to the boardwalk, looked around, and then stepped back in.

"Sit up on the table, Johnny," Spencer said as he watched Murdoch almost lift the young man and place him on the table. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Doc, before you start pushing and prodding on me, I'm gonna' need the outhouse," Johnny blushed, looking down at the floor.

"I think you know where it is," Spencer smiled and pointed to the back of the office. Johnny started to shift himself off the table.

"Just a minute, John," Murdoch said as he stepped back to the front of the office. "Slade, do you have any men out back?"

"I will have in a minute," Slade answered and started to the front door. He looked out, "Bonner, Andrews go cover the back." He stepped back into the office. "It's covered now."

Murdoch walked back to the examination room. "Now you can go," he helped Johnny off the table. "Need some help getting there?"

"I can make it," Johnny said as he slowly walked out back.

"Mr. Lancer, can you tell me what's going on," Doctor Spencer asked. "What is Jack Slade doing here?"

"Mr. Slade and a few of his friends are helping my family on our trip back to California, Doctor Spencer," Murdoch answered. "I'm not sure how much you've heard about what happened in Nogales a few days ago."

"All of Tucson has heard of what happened in Nogales. That still doesn't tell me why Slade ..." Spencer cut off as he watched Johnny come through the back door of his office. "Mr. Lancer, would you help him back onto the table. Johnny, can you answer a few questions for me. Where does it hurt?

Johnny looked at the doctor and spoke before Murdoch could speak. "Seems a little bit of everywhere right now, Doc. Had some problems down in Mexico."

Spencer had heard the stories of what had happened in both Mexico and Nogales. All reports said Madrid was hurt, but he hadn't heard any specifics.

It was Murdoch that spoke up then, helping his son take the coat off, "He's had a rough time of it in the last two weeks. John, unbutton your shirt."

Doctor Spencer watched as Johnny obeyed and slowly unbuttoned the shirt and started to slide it off his shoulders. He bit down on his lower lip as a sharp pain hit him. Murdoch helped him take it off completely.

Spencer walked to the other side of the table and started removing the bandages that covered Johnny's back. He took a sharp breath as he saw the marks that he knew a whip had caused.

"How long ago did this happen?" Spencer asked.

"You know what happened?" Johnny leaned his head forward and rested it into Murdoch's chest.

Murdoch reached up and took hold of his son's bare shoulders. He could feel the warm skin under his hands, and slight shudder as the doctor continued his examination of Johnny's back.

"I'd heard that you were hurt, but no details," Spencer answered as he continued to examine and touch the welts on the young man's back. "It was obviously a whip."

"Not sure how many days ago," Johnny said honestly, suddenly very tired and slumped forward further, thankful that his father's hands were holding him up. The days had run together on him, and there were many days he couldn't remember at all.

"Val. Scott," Murdoch called out. Val and Scott quickly moved into the examination room. Slade stood in the doorway. "You've been with him the whole time. Can you answer the doctor's questions? Doctor Spencer, this is my oldest son, Scott Lancer and our friend Val Crawford."

Spencer looked up at the two men that had just moved into the room. "I think I know Crawford. It was about five years ago if I'm right. Wasn't it Johnny that brought you to see me?" He didn't wait for an answer before repeating the question, "How long ago did this happen?"

"It's been around 13 or 14 days now," Scott answered looking to Val for confirmation.

"Sounds about right," Val nodded. "He took a pretty good beating about that time, too."

"Any chills?" Spencer looked up at Murdoch.

"Yes," Murdoch, Scott, and Val all answered at the same time.

"How about fever?" Spencer asked.

The doctor chuckled when all three answered, "Yes" again.

"If I remember right, the last time I treated you was two years ago for a bullet wound in your arm," Spencer stopped his examination and looked at Johnny's profile. "I would offer you something for pain, however every time I've seen you, you've refused pain medication. I'm assuming you don't want anything now."

"No laudanum, Doc. I need to keep my head clear," Johnny pressed his forehead a little harder into Murdoch's chest.

"Let me see your ribs," Spencer moved around to face Johnny gently pushing Murdoch aside. "Tell me if it hurts." He began pressing on Johnny's rib cage.

Johnny didn't flinch until the doctor got close to his stomach.

"Take it easy, Doc," Johnny hissed.

"I need you to lie down. Mr. Lancer, you can stay. Everyone else, please wait outside," Spencer was gently pushing Johnny down on the table.

"Doc," Val spoke up as he started to leave the room, "he got kicked in the stomach about 12 days ago."

"Can't lay on my back, Doc," Johnny protested.

"Then lay on your side for now," the doctor began his examination of Johnny's ribs and stomach.

The moment the doctor's hand touched the spot where Sanchez's boot hit him, Johnny came off the table. "Don't!" he yelled.

"Lay back down, Johnny," Spencer said cursing himself for causing the apparent pain to the young man.

Johnny was taking short hard breaths, and his entire body was now covered with sweat.

"Tell me about the kick you took in the stomach," Spencer took a cloth and wet it. He placed it on Johnny's forehead.

"Boot tip was pointed with a steel toe," Johnny finally said. He really didn't want to go through a blow by blow account of the beating he'd taken.

"It hit right here?" Spencer touched the spot gently.

Johnny nodded as he winced. The doctor's examination had awakened the pain in his stomach.

"No broken ribs, just badly bruised. They appear to be healing nicely," the doctor finished his examination. "You can sit up now."

"Mr. Lancer...," the doctor had started to say.

Murdoch held up a hand, "Doctor, can I ask my son and Val to come back in. They need to hear whatever you have to say."

"Of course," the doctor turned and washed his hands.

"Scott, Val, come back in," Murdoch called out to the front of the office. "Slade, you'll probably need to hear this, too."

Once everyone was back in the examination room the doctor began, "Mr. Lancer, there is still debris in the wounds on his back. I need to..."

"Doc, I'm sitting right here," Johnny interrupted. "Why not tell me? Murdoch isn't making the decisions here. I am."

The doctor took a breath. He'd forgotten who his patient was for a moment. He looked at Murdoch who merely shrugged.

The doctor continued, addressing Johnny this time. "As I was saying, there is still debris in the wounds. I need to debride your back. As I said, the ribs are healing nicely. As for your stomach… I think there is a tear in stomach muscle. It will heal on its own eventually, but it will be quite painful until it does. It should be stitched. I take it you've not been able to keep solid food down?"

"No, he hasn't," Murdoch spoke up before Johnny could answer. "He seems to throw up everything we give him."

"What's the de...breed you talked about?" Johnny leaned forward, putting his arm across his lap.

"Debride," he repeated, "It means removing damaged tissue and foreign material from a wound. I would have to open the wounds up again and clean them out. There is some dead tissue in them that needs to be removed also. I'm sure that is why some of the wounds on your back are not healing as fast as others. It is also the reason you still have a fever," the doctor answered and stood back for his patient to digest what he'd said.

"Say you do the de... whatever you said, could I ride right away?" Johnny was watching Murdoch's face.

Spencer looked at Madrid and then at his father. He started to go into a long explanation and then just merely said, "No. You wouldn't be able to ride right away."

"Bandage me back up, Doc. We're riding out in the morning heading north. Can't take time to stop this close to the border," Johnny said, straightening up.

"Doctor, we'll be in Phoenix in a few days. Can we wait that long to have the procedure done?" Murdoch asked stepping closer to Johnny.

"You can, but I wouldn't recommend it. There's an infection there now that I need to treat. The longer the debris stays in the wounds, the higher the chances for a severe fever," the doctor answered.

"John, why don't we let the doctor do what he can now, and we'll discuss...," Murdoch started but was cut off by Johnny.

"Nothing to discuss. Doc, do what you can now. I'll see a doctor in Phoenix when we can take a few days to layover," Johnny stated firmly.

"We're going to stay at the hotel tonight. I was hoping we could all get hot baths, especially Johnny," Murdoch said. "Could you put a temporary bandage on for now and we'll bring him back after he's had a bath and something to eat?"

"I could do that. A warm, not hot, bath would go a long way in helping to get some of the debris out of the wounds. I'm sure it would also help relieve some of the muscle pains you are having right now," the doctor reached for bandages and ointments. "If everyone would wait outside, it will only be a moment."

...********

Slade stepped out of the doctor's office and onto the boardwalk. The first thing he saw was Carl Wilson walking toward him.

"Slade, I saw you ride in," Wilson said. He looked at the other gunfighters standing nearby, "You got business with Doc Spencer?"

"Just brought a friend in for the Doc to look at," Slade drawled. "We aren't here for trouble, Sheriff. We're staying one night and riding out in the morning."

"Who are we? I saw that rancher, Lancer go into the Doc's office. You working for him?" Wilson asked.

"As a matter of fact, we do, Sheriff," Slade answered. "Mr. Lancer has hired us to get his family back to California. So, you see there is nothing to worry about."

Wilson didn't say anything. He started to enter the doctor's office when the door opened, and Murdoch walked out. Murdoch stood at least six inches taller than the sheriff.

"You're Murdoch Lancer?" the sheriff asked.

"I am," Murdoch answered. "Is there a problem, Sheriff?"

"I'm Sheriff Carl Wilson. Is Slade working for you?" Wilson asked as he looked toward Slade.

"He is. I've hired Mr. Slade and a few other men to escort my sons and me to our ranch in California. We are staying at the hotel tonight and will ride on tomorrow morning," Murdoch said.

"I was just checking, Mr. Lancer. There are a lot of gunfighters in town right now. I don't want any problems," Wilson said. "I understand your son is seeing the Doc. I hope he's doing better."

Murdoch hesitated for a moment, "Yes, my son is doing much better. The doctor should be finished with him in a few minutes if you would like to meet him, Sheriff. I wouldn't want you to have any additional concerns."

The sheriff wasn't sure what Murdoch had meant about 'additional concerns.' "Certainly, I'd like to meet your son."

The door to the doctor's office opened, and Scott and Val walked out with Johnny behind them.

"Sheriff Wilson, this is my oldest son Scott Lancer."

Scott tipped his hat to Wilson, "Sheriff."

"This is our friend Val Crawford. Val is the sheriff of Green River, California," Murdoch introduced Val.

"Nice to meet you, Crawford," Wilson smiled.

Val tipped his hat. He remembered Wilson from the last time he and Johnny had been in Tucson.

"Sheriff, this is my youngest son John," Murdoch waved Johnny forward. "John, this is Sheriff Wilson. I was just explaining to him that Mr. Slade and his men weren't in town to cause trouble. I'm sure the sheriff would feel more comfortable if you could assure him of the same."

"Sheriff," Johnny tipped his hat. "As my father said, we're not in town to cause any problems. We're staying tonight and riding out in the morning. Hopefully, it will be a quiet visit to Tucson."

The sheriff smiled at Johnny. "That's good to know. Hope the Doc was able to fix you up."

"He was of some help," Johnny let a faint smile cross his face. He realized the sheriff still had no idea who he was.

Wilson was still trying to figure out why the boy was supposed to assure him of not causing trouble when suddenly it was if a light went on in his head. He looked into the deep blue eyes of the boy standing in front of him and the smile faded from his face. "Madrid?"

"That's right, Sheriff. I'm not here for trouble. I'm hoping trouble leaves me alone while we're in town," the corner of Johnny's mouth rose in a crooked smile.

"Are you the reason for all the gunfighters in town?" Wilson asked looking between Johnny and Slade.

"I have no idea why anyone else is in town," Johnny drawled. "I only know why Slade and his men are here. Sheriff, I won't go looking for trouble. I won't walk away from it either if it comes looking for me."

"Madrid, I remember the last time you were in Tucson; you weren't looking for trouble then either. As I remember you left town right after a gunfight," Wilson said.

"I remember. The red-headed kid, right? He called me out, Sheriff. I didn't have a choice, and you know it," Johnny answered.

Wilson took a deep breath. There was nothing he could do. Madrid hadn't broken any laws in Tucson or the Arizona territory that he knew of.

Wilson tipped his hat to Murdoch, "Mr. Lancer. I hope you have a pleasant stay in Tucson." He walked away without saying anything more to Slade or Johnny.

"Let's get our rooms and get cleaned up," Murdoch moved to cross the street.

Slade had already seen to it that the horses were at the livery stable and that the saddlebags had been sent to the hotel.

"Mr. Slade, I've got rooms for you and your men. I'll let you sort them out. I reserved eight rooms." Murdoch handed Slade some money. "If you can make sure everyone has a bath and a good meal tonight, I would appreciate it."

"I'll wait until I see which rooms you have, Mr. Lancer, before assigning rooms to my men," Slade said. "You gonna' eat at the hotel tonight?"

"I'd planned on it. I think a quiet evening is in order," Murdoch looked at his youngest son.

"Don't look at me," Johnny smiled, "quiet is good. I'll get a bath, something to eat, and then have the Doc bandage me up. What could go wrong?"

Val looked at Scott and shook his head. "Lots can go wrong. We'll just have to make sure it don't."

"Val, the only time I'll be out of the hotel is when I go to see Doc Spencer. It's what, at best 700 feet," Johnny grinned.

They started toward the hotel on the boardwalk. Johnny was walking on the outside as he always did and was watching everything around him. There were a lot of people, and he wanted to make sure none of them were paying attention to him.

Scott had asked a question, and Johnny turned his head to answer. He didn't see the man who was coming toward him. Johnny's shoulder slightly hit the man's shoulder.

"Sorry," Johnny said and kept walking.

"Watch where you're going, chili bean," the man shouted. "Damn half-breed needs to learn some manners."

Slade and his men had been walking about 10 feet behind Madrid and his family. He heard what the man said and came to a stop. He saw Johnny stop and turn. Slade's hand moved to his gun butt. He was watching Johnny. Johnny looked at Slade and shook his head. No one fought his fights for him.

"I said I'm sorry, mister," Johnny apologized again. He looked at his father.

Murdoch put a protective arm around Johnny's shoulder and pulled him away. Johnny was angry. It had been a lot of years since anyone had gotten away with calling him a chili bean.

...********

As they approached the hotel, a small Mexican girl ran up to Johnny. She looked up at him, with a broad smile on her face and held out a flower that was in her hand.

"What's this, Nina?" Johnny asked looking down at the child. He took the flower from her and stood stunned as she threw her arms around his waist; hugging him tightly.

"Your girlfriends are getting younger, little brother?" Scott laughed.

"I guess," Johnny answered with a smile on his face. Looking around for the girl's parents, he saw several people standing across the street on the boardwalk looking at him. Turning toward the hotel entrance, he saw a man in robes step out.

Slade and Lambert quickly moved forward to block the man's way.

"It's alright," Johnny held a hand up waving them back. "Padre Mateo, how did you know I was here?"

"The church has many eyes, mijo," the old Padre said as he moved to put both of his hands on Johnny's forearms. "The moment you entered Tucson, I had several people tell me of your arrival."

Johnny smiled. "And here we thought we had gotten into town without anyone knowing."

"We have heard of what happened in Nuevo Casa Granda. There are many here that had friends and family in the prison. This Nina is one of them. Her father was there. He is now free, thanks to you. You were very brave, Juanito," the Padre said.

"Brave or just plain loco," Johnny lowered his head. "There were a lot of people helping in Mexico, Padre. I wasn't there alone."

"Yet you are the one the people know, mijo," the Padre smiled seeing the young gunhawk blush.

The Padre patted the little girl on her head and turned her toward a woman that had crossed the street. The woman walked up to Johnny and took his hand, squeezing it, "Gracias, nuestro heroe, gracias." Johnny blushed as the woman and little girl hurried away.

"I want you to meet someone, Padre," Johnny turned to his father and motioned him forward. "Padre this is my father, Murdoch Lancer." He turned to Scott, pulling him forward, "And this is my brother, Scott Lancer."

"Your Papa and hermano? You found him, Nino! Are you happy, mijo?" the Padre smiled. The Padre held out a hand to Murdoch. Murdoch shook the hand offered.

"Yes, Padre, I'm happy," Johnny smiled, looking at his father.

"Senor Lancer, it is an honor to meet you," the Padre turned his attention to Murdoch.

"Thank you, Padre," Murdoch responded.

The Padre looked back at Johnny, "We heard you were hurt." There was concern in his eyes and voice.

"Nothing that won't heal, Padre," Johnny answered.

"You will be in Tucson for a few days?"

"No, Padre. We'll be leaving in the morning."

"So soon," the Padre frowned. "I had hoped you would stay longer."

"I'm sorry, Padre. I don't think it would be safe for either you or me if I hung around too long," Johnny responded.

The Padre nodded, seeming to understand.

"Our prayers go with you, nuestro heroe," the Padre smiled and held both of Johnny's hands.

"No, Padre," Johnny blushed again.

"Si, Juanito. Tu eres nuestro heroe," the Padre said as he turned away. (Yes, Johnny. You are our hero.)

Scott turned to Murdoch. His father smiled, "Tu eres nuestro heroe. It means you are our hero."

Scott looked at the Padre and then at the people standing on the other side of the street. The Padre wasn't saying anything he didn't already know.

...********

A soak in a warm tub of water made Johnny feel like a new man. That and the fact that Scott helped him wash his hair. By the time he'd dried off, he had almost forgotten about the loud mouth man on the boardwalk.

Scott put a bandage on his brother's back and helped him dress in the clothes he'd worn earlier.

Johnny stretched out on the bed. Putting his gun under the pillow, he was asleep the moment his head was down.

"Johnny," Scott gently shook his brother awake while holding his right hand down.

Johnny jerked awake trying to reach his gun. He looked up to see Scott leaning over him smiling. "Time to get up?"

"Yes. Why don't we go back over to the doctor and get you fixed up? We can have dinner afterward and then call it an early night. Sound good?" Scott reached up and felt Johnny's forehead. "A little warm, but not hot," he thought.

"I don't have a fever," Johnny said as he pushed himself up to the side of the bed.

"Can't get anything by you, can I," Scott laughed.

"Not much," Johnny smiled. "Let's go. I think I could eat something tonight besides broth."

"I think Slade left Stewart and Martin to go across with us. I'll check to see if Val wants to go also," Scott said turning to the door.

"I don't really need that many babysitters, Scott," Johnny frowned.

"May not need them, but you're going to get them, brother," Scott said as he opened the door. "Come on."

Once in the hall they saw the doors to several of the other rooms were open. Stewart and Martin stepped out into the hallway.

"Slade's gone to the bathhouse. Said he'd be back in a few minutes. You wanta' wait so he can go too?" Stewart drawled.

"No need," Johnny answered. "Just going across the street, can't see anyone trying anything in broad daylight in the middle of town."

Val stepped out of his room, closed his door, and followed Johnny downstairs and out to the boardwalk. The little group crossed the street to the doctor's office.

Johnny and Scott went in while Val, Stewart, and Martin stayed outside. Twenty minutes later Johnny had clean bandages and a letter to the doctor in Phoenix as to what the doctor there needed to do.

"See," Johnny laughed as they started back to the hotel, "nothing happened. Let's get Murdoch and get something to eat."

Johnny had just gotten to the other side of the street when the loud mouth from earlier that day stepped up to him. "I see you wearing that gun, chili bean. Know how to use it?" The man smelled of cigarettes and whiskey.

Stewart and Martin had no idea what to do. Martin told Stewart to get Slade.

"You're drunk. Go sober up," Johnny growled and started to push by the man.

"Gonna' have to teach you some manners, boy," the man pushed Johnny back. A twinge of pain shot through his back.

"I don't think so, mister," Johnny said in a soft voice.

Val and Scott started to move in front of Johnny. He sidestepped to block their way.

Stewart ran into the hotel and up the stairs. He yelled out, "Slade, you better come quick. Some fool is about to call out Madrid."

Murdoch heard what Stewart said and started running down the hall, down the stairs, and out to the boardwalk. Slade and the other gunfighters were right behind him.

"Come on, boy. I'm calling you out," the loudmouth was saying as he staggered into the street.

"No problem," Johnny drawled. "Can you give me a minute?"

"Sure, I'll give you a minute. I'll be right here. Don't even think about running away from me, boy," the loudmouth was now moving to the center of the street.

Johnny turned to look at Slade, "Don't even think about interfering, Slade."

"John, you're not well enough," Murdoch watched his son lift his Colt from his holster and check the cylinder.

"I fight my own battles, old man. I walk away from that idiot and I might as well put a sign on my back saying target. Ask Val and Slade, they know what I'm talking about," Johnny twirled his gun and put it back in the holster. "I'll only be a minute." He turned and walked into the street.

Sheriff Wilson walked up to Murdoch. "Sheriff, you need to stop this."

"Nothing I can do, Mr. Lancer. I've seen enough of these gunfights to know that the only thing I can do is make sure it's a fair fight. Don't guess that man knows who he's called out," Wilson said.

Johnny walked into the street. The saloons emptied to watch the two men face each other. Gunfighters, many of whom had been in Nogales, watched as Madrid faced down the loudmouth.

"I'm here, mister. By the way, what's your name?" Johnny's voice filled the quiet street.

"Harry Skinner, chili bean. Why you want to know?" the loudmouth snarled.

"First rule of a gunfight, Skinner. Always know who you've called out," Johnny smiled. "You really don't have a clue who you called out, do you?"

"To me, you're just a half-breed, chili bean," Skinner laughed. "So, what is your name?"

"Madrid, Johnny Madrid," Johnny's said in a soft, low drawl that could have frozen hell over. His eyes had gone hard and cold.

"Kid you ain't Johnny Madrid," Skinner snapped.

"Slade," Johnny called out without taking his eyes off of Skinner, "tell the man who he's called out."

"Mister, you just called out Johnny Madrid," Slade laughed, his hand resting on the butt of his gun, ready to shoot the idiot himself. "You might want to rethink what you're doing."

Skinners face had gone pale.

"Now, that's what I like to see. See that face, Slade? The moment they realize they've really screwed up," Johnny's face had darkened. "Not too late to call this off, Skinner. You've had too much to drink. Why not go sleep it off?"

Skinner raised his hand away from his gun. "Yeah, I guess I have had too much to drink. Sorry about bumping into you earlier, Mr. Madrid."

"No problem," Johnny still had not taken his eyes off the man.

Skinner moved out of the street and went back into the saloon.

Johnny relaxed and turned to Murdoch and Scott smiling. "See, told you there wouldn't be any trouble."

Johnny had just gotten back on the boardwalk when he heard it.

Madrid!

Johnny tensed. He turned to see Booth standing in the street.

"I'm calling you out, Madrid," Booth yelled.

"Didn't expect to see you this soon, Booth. Guess you do have a death wish like Val said," Johnny stepped back into the street.

"Can't fool me, Madrid; I've been with you since before Nogales. I know you can't take me. Remember I saw you puke your guts out yesterday," Booth laughed.

"Not my finest moment, Booth, not my worst either," Johnny drawled, "I told you chloroform don't sit well with me. Slade, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Madrid," Slade answered from the boardwalk.

"He gets by me would you mind finishing him off for me?" Johnny's voice carried down the street.

"Glad too. You know, Booth, most of the men standing around here were with us in Nogales. Don't think they're gonna' be happy with you, knowing you tried to take Madrid back across the border yesterday," Slade's voice had gone up. "That's right, Booth here was gonna' turn Madrid over to the Rurales. So, don't worry about him, Johnny. He won't leave this street alive."

Johnny nodded. "You called it Booth, let's dance."

Booth's hands were sweating now. Everyone knew the truth of what he'd done. He knew he was a dead man walking. Well, if he was going to go, he was taking Madrid with him. He knew that Madrid was weak and was probably having a hard time standing up at this point. Booth smiled, knowing he was about to take down Johnny Madrid. Even if it was for only a few minutes, he would have Madrid's reputation.

Booth knew Madrid wasn't at full strength. He'd watched him in camp flexing his hand and fingers. He'd watched as the pain etched Madrid's face when he tried to move his arm too far.

Johnny was watching the emotions dance across Booth's face. He was tired and his back was hurting. It took longer than it usually did, but he was finally able to go deep inside himself and find the Madrid he knew he needed for this.

Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his shoulders as best he could and flexed his fingers. Finally, he cleared his mind of everything, except what was needed. His face was void of all emotion, and his eyes were now cold and dark. Letting the adrenaline flow through him, a slight smile crossed his face.

Johnny waited for Booth's 'tell.' He saw what he was waiting for in the other man's eyes. Both men drew at the same time.

Johnny crouched and drew. Cocking his gun as it left the holster, he leveled and fired in one swift motion.

Booth drew, then leveled and fired.

For a split-second, Booth thought he'd won. He looked down to see red spreading across his chest; not even feeling the pain of the bullet. Looking back up at Madrid, he saw that he was still wearing that grin.

Booth fell to his knees and then to the ground face first.

Johnny felt Booth's bullet hit him in his left side. He jerked around and then quickly corrected himself in time to see Booth fall to the ground. Johnny walked over to Booth and kicked his gun away from him.

Johnny turned toward the hotel where Murdoch, Scott, and Val were standing. Slade walked out to meet him.

Sliding his Colt back into his holster, Johnny drawled, "Not my best work, but it'll do."

"You're hit," Slade said as he looked Johnny over. "Best we go see Doc Spencer before your Pa gets hold of you. I sure as hell don't want to hear him yelling anymore."

Johnny turned and walked beside Slade to the doctor's office. Murdoch, Scott, and Val followed them across the street.

Doctor Spencer was waiting for them. He'd watched the gunfight and had wondered who his patient was going to be. Johnny walked into the office and took off his hat. "Sorry to cause you any more work today, Doc."

"Where were you hit?" Spencer asked Johnny as Murdoch, Scott, and Val came into the office.

"Left side. Don't think it's bad though. Kinda' stings," Johnny raised his arm to show blood spreading across the side of his shirt.

"Let's take a look," Spencer said as he motioned Johnny into the examination room. Murdoch followed.

"Johnny?" Murdoch put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm okay. Doc's gonna' fix me up in no time," Johnny closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I sure wish we'd have gotten something to eat before all this happened." Johnny opened his eyes. "Where did Slade go?"

"Doctor?" Murdoch said trying to see Johnny's side.

"You need to lie down, Johnny," Spencer was pressing on Johnny's side. "Mr. Lancer, help me lay him down. The bullet left a deep graze on his side. I need to stitch him up to get the bleeding to stop."

"John, lie down," Murdoch was pushing his son down. Suddenly, Johnny was fighting him. "Scott, Val get in here."

Scott and Val ran into the room to see the doctor putting pressure on the bleeding wound and Murdoch trying to keep Johnny lying on the table.

"Johnny, you need to lay still," the doctor said while holding Johnny on the table. "Mr. Lancer, I have got to get him to calm down. I can't stop the bleeding. I'm giving him some morphine."

Murdoch didn't say anything; he just nodded agreement.

"Crawford," the doctor turned to Val, "hold the pressure on the wound while I give him an injection."

Val put his hand on the pressure bandage and tried to keep it there while Johnny was trying to pull away. "Calm down, boy. Just relax and let the adrenaline go."

The doctor gave Johnny the morphine and watched as he relaxed and fell back on the table. He moved over and took Val's place holding the pressure on the bandage. Looking at the wound that had almost stopped bleeding he turned to Val again. "Crawford, hold the bandage again while I get a needle and sutures."

Thirty minutes later the wound was stitched, and Johnny was sleeping.

"He'll be alright, Mr. Lancer. It wasn't the worst wound I've seen him with. He should be waking up shortly," the doctor was watching Johnny's breathing.

"Thank you, doctor," Murdoch sat down in a chair next to the table. He placed his hand over Johnny's hand.

"Mr. Lancer, are you still planning to leave in the morning?" the doctor asked taking Johnny's wrist and feeling for his pulse.

"I wish we could wait for a day or two, doctor, but we're still too close to the border," Murdoch squeezed Johnny's hand. "We can't... I can't take the chance that the Rurales will get their hands on him again."

"We do what we have to do, Mr. Lancer," the doctor said. "Keep the wound clean and dry. Make sure he gets plenty of liquids. I'll give you some herbal teas to help with the fever I know he's prone to. Keep him warm. Once you get to Phoenix be sure and see the doctor there."

"It sounds like you've treated Johnny more than once," Murdoch looked at the Doctor and then at Johnny.

"Yes, unfortunately, I have. I think the first time was around six years ago. Your son had a chest wound. It was Crawford that carried him into my office that day," the Doctor answered. "I've treated him several times since then for various wounds and illnesses."

"Six years…," Murdoch tried to comprehend his 12-year-old son with a bullet wound to his chest.

Johnny's eyes opened slowly. He saw his father sitting beside him and felt the big man's hand holding his. Murdoch was rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb.

"You ready for something to eat?" Johnny smiled at his father; he liked the feel of his hand in his father's.

"Johnny," Murdoch jumped. "I think I could stand to eat something. The problem is, young man, I think you're back on broth again, at least for the next few days."

Johnny pushed himself up on the table, "Help me up."

Murdoch helped Johnny sit up and swing his legs to the side. "The doctor said I could take you to the hotel once you woke up. You think you can walk or do I need to get Val and Scott to carry you over?"

"I can walk. Help me get my shirt on," Johnny stood up. His legs felt like they were going to buckle under him.

Johnny got his shirt and rig on and with Murdoch's help he got to the front door. He took a deep breath and pulled himself up, feeling the pull in his side. He stepped outside.

It was already getting dark. Slade, Scott, and Val were standing just outside the door. Johnny looked left and right before putting his hat on. Bonner, Stewart, Cox, and Lambert moved toward him.

"Are you alright?" Scott asked moving to stand beside his brother.

"Yeah," Johnny answered, "think I'm going to call it an early night." He started walking toward the hotel. Val and Scott fell in next to him, and Murdoch and Slade followed.

He slowly climbed the stairs of the hotel and opened the door to his room. He tossed his hat on the chair in the corner. He looked at the bed, closed his eyes, and collapsed across it. That was the last he remembered until the next morning.

...********

Slade had taken Madrid to the doctor's office and left as soon as Murdoch, Val and Scott had come in.

He stood in front of the office for a few minutes and looked around. "Bonner, Stewart, Cox, and Lambert, you watch this building and don't let no one in there without me saying it's alright. I'm going to the saloon," Slade barked out.

Slade walked toward the saloon. Bonner looked around, "The rest of you go with Slade. I didn't like that the look in his eye."

Curly, Martin, Tate, and Bryant followed Slade to the saloon. Slade threw the batwing door open and stepped into the room with the others right behind him.

All sound in the saloon stopped.

Everyone was watching Slade as he walked up to the bar. "Whiskey," he spat out.

The bartender put the glass in front of him and poured the shot of whiskey. Slade took the drink and downed it in one gulp.

"Again," Slade said slapping the glass down onto the bar.

The others had moved to stand next to the bar with him. They had never worked with Slade before and had no idea what to expect of the man.

Slade took the fresh drink and threw it back like he had the one before. He couldn't explain it to himself, but the gunfight between Madrid and Booth had put him sideways. He knew he couldn't step in and take Madrid's place with Booth, although he'd wanted to. The thing was, he'd found himself holding his breath the entire time.

For the first time in his career as a gunfighter, he felt something for someone else. He was starting to like the kid. When he'd seen Madrid hit, it was as if he'd taken the bullet himself.

Slade looked around the saloon. The place was full of gunfighters. He had no idea how many were there to take Madrid on and how many were there to help him.

He leaned back against the bar and slammed the glass down. The sound brought all attention in the room to him.

"Most of you were in Nogales. For those who weren't, my name's Jack Slade. I'm giving you fair warning, and pass the word, that until Madrid is back on his feet, you have to go through me to get to him. Anyone wanting to dance with Madrid, dances with me first."

Slade tossed some coins on the bar and walked out.

The saloon was quiet for a few more minutes. Curley looked around, "If you don't think he's serious, think again. Just so you know, there are eight more of us right behind him. No one gets to Madrid without going through us first." He tossed back his drink and followed Slade out of the saloon. Martin, Tate, and Bryan were right behind him.

...********

Johnny woke the next morning to hear Scott and Murdoch talking. "Are you sure we can't stay one more day?" Scott was asking.

"We'll have to see how he feels when he wakes up. If he can't travel, we'll have to stay," Murdoch answered. "He can always ride in the wagon."

"We already know that we aren't going to make much better time with the wagon than we did on horseback," Scott was saying. "Riding in the wagon is going to jar him worse than riding on a horse."

"You've been riding double for two weeks. Don't tell me you wouldn't like to have the saddle to yourself again?" Murdoch asked.

Johnny kept his eyes closed. He listened for Scott's answer.

"Actually sir, I wouldn't have had it any other way. I finally feel like the big brother I should have been for the last 18 years. It's like he depended on me," Scott answered.

Johnny took a deep breath and smiled.

"We just need to keep moving, Scott," Murdoch said, "I can't lose him again. I can't lose either one of you. If the wagon is the only way we can move him, then he'll ride in the wagon."

Johnny opened his eyes and turned his head. "You two talking about me again?" he smiled at them.

"Good morning, little brother," Scott sat on the edge of the bed. "Sleep well?"

"I always sleep well," Johnny gave a weak laugh, "you know that. You got some water?"

Murdoch brought him a glass of water and helped him to sit up to drink it.

"Thanks," Johnny said as he began to swing his legs over the side of the bed. "What time is it?"

"A little after 8:00. We thought you were going to sleep all day," Scott tousled Johnny's hair. "We never did get you that haircut."

"Maybe in Phoenix," Johnny answered running his fingers through his hair and brushing it off his forehead. "We need to get moving. Can you throw me my clothes?"

"I'm going to get the wagon ready and let Slade know," Scott said as he walked out of the room.

Murdoch brought Johnny's pants and a clean shirt to him and helped him dress.

"Would you like some broth, son?" Murdoch asked as he helped Johnny put on his boots and watched him put on his rig.

"Any chance I could get something besides broth?" Johnny sighed. "Maybe a biscuit?"

"I'll see what I can do. Do you want me to bring it to you here or do you want to go downstairs?" Murdoch asked.

Johnny thought for a second, "How about here. If I can't hold it down, at least I won't embarrass myself by puking in front of others."

"Alright, son," Murdoch moved to the door, "I'll be right back."

Johnny moved to sit in the chair near the window, looking out over the street. He could see Scott loading the wagon. He watched Slade and his men walking back and forth in front of the hotel.

Johnny needed to talk to Slade. They had lost two men with Jackson and Booth. He also knew that some of the men wouldn't want to go across the California state line.

It was funny, he hadn't agreed with Murdoch's decision to hire Slade, but now he was glad he had. Now, he could admit, at least to himself, that he felt some comfort in knowing that at least Slade, as long as he was on the payroll, would look after Murdoch, Scott, and Val.

Murdoch returned with a cup of broth and a biscuit. "I'll be back in a few minutes, John. I want to see how Scott is doing with loading the wagon."

Johnny started to drink the broth and eat the biscuit. Halfway through the biscuit, he knew he was going to lose it. He stopped eating and sat back looking around the room for a bucket or chamber pot. When he found the chamber pot, he dropped to his knees and threw up.

He pushed himself up and found the water. He took a mouthful; washing his mouth out, before spitting it out and taking a long drink. His stomach was hurting. He covered the chamber pot and pushed it under the bed. He was finishing the last of the broth when Murdoch returned.

"Well?" his father asked as he walked into the room and saw the half-eaten biscuit and an empty bowl.

Johnny just shook his head. "Couldn't hold it down."

"We'll get there, son," Murdoch placed his hand on Johnny's shoulder. He could feel how much weight his son had lost. "Want any more broth? I've had the hotel fill a canteen with broth so you can have some any time you want it."

"No, not right now," Johnny stood up. "Just want to get moving."

Johnny picked up his saddlebags and headed for the door. Murdoch looked around the room, picked up his saddlebags, and followed his son out.

Val met Johnny at the bottom of the stairs. "Just coming up to check on you. I'll take your saddlebags and put them in the wagon."

"Where's Slade?" Johnny asked as he walked out onto the boardwalk.

"Here," Johnny heard Slade as he moved up beside him.

Johnny turned to face Slade, "Are you going to replace Jackson and Booth?"

"Thought about it. Gonna' need a couple more. Curley and Cox aren't going into California,"
Slade answered. "Thought about letting them go now."

"Won't tell you how to run your crew, but you may want to get the men here. There are a lot of gunhawks here that were with you in Nogales," Johnny said.

"You mean with you in Nogales, don't you? You think we might be able to trust these men?" Slade asked.

"Jackson and Booth were with us in Nogales. We both thought we could trust them. See how that turned out," Johnny lowered his head and looked at the ground. "Can't trust anyone, Slade. Not in this line of work."

Val had quietly walked to stand behind Johnny, listening to the two men talk.

"You trust anyone, Madrid?" Slade asked as he watched Scott load the wagon.

Johnny smiled. "I used to think if you had at least one person you could trust you were a lucky man. For a lot of years, I only had one person. Now I have three people I can trust to watch my back; my old man, my brother and Val Crawford."

Slade nodded, "You're lucky alright. I don't even have one person I can trust." Slade turned to walk away. "You might not believe it right now, Madrid, but now you've got four people you can trust. One of these days I might even trust you to watch my back."

Johnny watched Slade walk down the boardwalk. The comment Slade made, had surprised him. He wondered if he could trust Slade?

"What do you think, Val?" Johnny asked knowing Val was standing behind him.

Val smiled. "Figured you knew I was back here. You feeling alright this morning? I was a might worried about you."

"I can always tell when you're nearby, amigo," Johnny gave Val a warm smile. "Besides, I could smell you," he ducked his head. "Did you get to the bathhouse yesterday?"

Val took his hat and popped Johnny on the arm and huffed. "Was meaning to and then you got yourself in trouble again."

"Don't blame that one on me," Johnny laughed. "A man can't even walk across the street in this town without someone wanting to shoot him."

Val moved forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Johnny. "You gonna' ride in that wagon?" Val asked as he saw Scott laying bedrolls down in the back of the wagon.

"Nope," Johnny answered. "That thing jars my insides. I hurt enough as it is. What'd you think about what Slade said about trusting him?"

"Don't know," Val looked toward Johnny. "I'd like to think you could trust a man like Slade. Maybe he needs someone he can trust to watch his back."

"We're ready to go, Johnny," Scott walked up to Val and Johnny. "I have a horse ready for you. I assumed you would want to ride out of town on your own. Once we're out of town, you can decide if you want to ride in the wagon or ride with me."

Slade walked back to Johnny. "I've picked up four men. They understand the job. I want you to meet them," he turned to the four men that were following him. "No need for first names. Madrid this is Williams, Gammon, Hayes, and Ryan. If you four don't already know, this is Johnny Madrid."

Johnny looked at the four men sizing them up. He sure hoped he could trust them more than Jackson and Booth. Johnny nodded to the men.

"We're ready," Johnny stated as he walked over to his horse. Taking a deep breath, he let it out and mounted. Pain shot through his side as the stitches pulled. He fought to control the pain before it reached his face.

Slade mounted his horse. Martin was driving the wagon and Slade motioned for him to pull out. Johnny and Slade rode in front with Murdoch, Scott, and Val directly behind them. The wagon followed a line of gunhawks, riding two abreast.

As they started to ride out of town, the mission bells began to toll. Johnny dipped his head and smiled. As they passed the Mission, Padre Mateo stood on the Mission steps and bowed his head toward Johnny and his family. Johnny tipped his hat to the old priest as he passed.

...********

The trail from Tucson to Phoenix was long and dusty. It was not the route Johnny would have preferred. Johnny was much more comfortable with traveling along the border when going to and from Arizona and California. He knew every town along the border; he didn't know anything about the route out of Phoenix.

It was 100 miles from Tucson to Phoenix. It was going to take them a little over three days at the rate they were moving.

They had been on the trail about an hour when Murdoch rode up next to Johnny.

"Son, I think it's time you moved to the wagon, don't you?" Murdoch had been watching Johnny closely since leaving Tucson and noticed his son was starting to slump in the saddle.

Johnny pulled his horse out of the way of the wagon and motioned it to continue past him.

"Not riding in that wagon," Johnny drawled. "Got enough problems without that wagon jarring me apart."

"If you don't want to ride in the wagon then you'll ride with either Val or Scott. I think your brother would prefer you ride with him," Murdoch had already known what Johnny was going to say about riding in the wagon.

Scott pulled his horse up next to Murdoch.

"Sir, I would suggest we rest up ahead under those trees," Scott pointed to a grove of trees ahead. "I want to check Johnny's bandages, and then he can ride with me."

Murdoch nodded his agreement. He rode forward to tell Slade their plans of stopping. Slade turned in his saddle and looked back toward Johnny. He waved for Martin to pull over near the trees. "We're gonna' take a 30-minute break," Slade called out as he dismounted.

The four new hires weren't used to traveling at a slow pace or with frequent stops. The four men walked over to Bonner.

"We just got started. Why are we stopping already?" Hayes asked.

Bonner looked at the men and then nodded his head toward Johnny. "Madrid needs some rest and to get off that horse. I'm surprised we didn't stop sooner. He's having a hard time staying up there by himself. Did Slade explain the job to you?"

"He explained," Hayes nodded.

"Did Jackson and Booth really try to take Madrid back to across the border?" Williams asked as he loosened the cinch on his saddle.

"Yeah," Bonner looked at him, "Jackson took Madrid out of camp right under all our noses. Never seen Slade so mad. Good thing it only took us a couple of hours to find Madrid."

"What happened to Jackson," Gammon asked.

"Madrid got Jackson's gun and put a bullet between his eyes. Some people you just don't mess with. Madrid's one of them. His old man over there is another," Bonner laughed. "Old man Lancer was fit to be tied when he found out the kid was missing. Chewed Slade out real good.

How'd he put it, "He couldn't understand how eight professional gunfighters could lose one 18-year-old boy?"

"Madrid's only 18?" Ryan asked staring at Johnny.

"Yeah, can you believe it?" Bonner answered as he finished loosening the cinch on his saddle, "Well, better take a load off."

Johnny and Scott rode into the shade of the trees. Scott dismounted and helped Johnny down.

Val had put a bedroll down next to the trees for Johnny to sit on.

"Thanks, Val," Johnny said as he eased down and leaned against a tree.

"Johnny, raise your shirt. Let's take a look at the bandage on your side," Scott moved to sit next to his brother. He looked at the bandage once Johnny had pulled his shirt up. "It's bleeding. I think you may have pulled a couple of stitches. I'm leaving that bandage on and wrapping another around your waist."

Johnny nodded and closed his eyes. The next thing he knew Scott was gently shaking him awake. "Time to go, little brother. Are you sure you don't want to ride in the wagon?"

"No wagon," Johnny looked past Scott to see Slade starting to mount. "Help me up."

Scott helped Johnny up and onto the horse. Scott mounted to sit behind him. He wrapped an arm around Johnny's waist and pulled him back, "Just put your head back and go to sleep."

Johnny smiled and leaned into his brother.

...********

The area around Phoenix had just been settled three years earlier in 1867. By 1870 the town was little more than a few buildings. There was a telegraph office, a post office, the hotel, two saloons, a cantina, a dance hall, and a livery stable. Fort McDowell was the closest place to get supplies.

It took three days to make the trip from Tucson to Phoenix. To everyone's relief, it had been a quiet three days. Still, Johnny had been plagued with fever most of the trip, and there were areas of his back that showed signs of infection.

By the time they checked into the only hotel in Phoenix Johnny was ready to see the doctor. He was tired of being in pain.

Murdoch waited while Slade made the room selections. Slade handed keys to Murdoch, Scott, and Val.

"Just let me know when you're going over to see the doctor. I want to get some men there ahead of you, and I'll check the place out myself," Slade said as he watched Scott open the door to his and Madrid's room.

"I'm going to go talk to the doctor while Scott and Johnny stay here," Murdoch looked around to see Scott helping Johnny into the room.

"I'll come with you," Slade said turning around. "Stewart and Bonner, take the room directly across from Madrid. You two stay here until I get back. Ryan and Gammon come with Mr. Lancer and me."

Murdoch turned and opened the door to Scott and Johnny's room. Johnny was already lying on the bed with his eyes closed. "Scott, I'm going to see the doctor. I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, Stewart and Bonner are across the hall."

Val walked out of his room and glanced into Scott and Johnny's room. "I think I'm going to the bathhouse downstairs and clean up," Val said as he looked at Johnny lying on the bed.

"About time," Johnny laughed, without opening his eyes.

"You need a bath also, young man," Murdoch said. "I want you to clean up and shave before you see the doctor. I think I can leave you in Val and Scott's capable hands."

Johnny opened his eyes and glared at his father. Murdoch ignored him and turned to walk down the hall.

"Val, you go ahead," Scott said. "I'll get clean clothes for us and meet you there in a few minutes."

An hour later all three men had taken baths and were in clean clothes. Murdoch returned to the hotel with a worried look on his face. He met the man who passed for a doctor in town, and he wasn't happy.

The doctor's office was at the rear of one of the dance halls. He'd discussed his son's injuries with the doctor who didn't seem to understand anything that Doctor Spencer had said needed to be done.

Once returning to the hotel, Murdoch gathered Slade, Scott, Johnny, and Val and went across the street to the cantina to get something to eat. Slade had Tate and Hayes come, too.

While they waited for their food, Murdoch discussed the situation with his son.

"Johnny, I have some concerns with the doctor here," Murdoch took a sip of the beer he'd ordered. "Slade, have you had any dealings with the man?"

Slade took a long drink of the beer in front of him. "Can't say I have, Mr. Lancer. The Doc has only been here a couple of years I understand. I listened to what he had to say when you were talking to him. I have to admit I don't think I'd even let the man take a bullet out of me."

Johnny had been playing with the beer in front of him. His raised his head when he heard Slade make the comment.

Murdoch looked at his son, "Do you want to meet the man, son?"

Johnny was holding it together by a thread. The constant pain had worn his nerves thin. The only thing that had kept him together up to this point was the fact that he would be seeing the doctor in Phoenix.

Johnny dipped his head holding back his emotions. "I'm gonna' have to do something. Tired of hurting. Makes me wish we had Doc Spencer."

Val pushed back from the table and walked over to the bar. He leaned in and talked to the bartender for a few minutes. He came back and sat down. "Bartender says that there's a doctor out at Fort McDowell that most folks around here go to. He says he wouldn't let the doctor in town treat his horse let alone a person."

"Guess we'd better ride over to the fort this afternoon," Johnny said. He took a sip of the beer in front of him and then pushed it away. The taste was terrible, and the small amount that hit his stomach made him sick.

Johnny looked at the bowl of soup that was sitting in front of him. He picked up a tortilla and tore off a small piece and took a bite. It wasn't half bad and seemed to sit on his stomach without causing a problem. Dipping the tortilla in the chicken tortilla soup he ordered, he took a bite and was surprised when his stomach didn't revolt. He ate mostly the tender chicken from the soup and left the rest.

Thirty minutes later they had finished eating. Slade ordered the horses saddled, and the wagon hitched. Johnny road on the wagon seat while Val drove. Slade had decided that all of the men were going with them to the fort.

Once at the fort, Murdoch asked for the doctor, and a soldier showed them the way. The man they met was in his mid-fifties with greying hair. Johnny thought he looked a lot like Sam.

Murdoch spoke to the doctor first. The doctor listened to what Murdoch had to say and then asked that Johnny be brought in.

"I'm Frank Doyle," the doctor introduced himself. The doctor had seen the men ride in. He'd lived his entire life in the west, and he knew a gunfighter when he saw one. He'd recognized Jack Slade immediately.

Johnny walked over to the man and shook his hand, "I'm Johnny, Doctor Doyle."

"Mr. Lancer, your father says you have an injury to your back. Let me take a look," Doyle said as he showed Johnny to an examination room.

Murdoch, Scott, Val, and Slade followed him in. "Gentlemen, I'll allow his father in. However, the rest of you will have to wait outside," the doctor told them.

Val, Scott, and Slade reluctantly moved out of the room.

"Can you remove your shirt young man?" the doctor asked.

Johnny unbuttoned the shirt and slipped it off. The doctor removed the bandages. One look at the boy's back and knew he'd been whipped.

"Mr. Lancer," the doctor turned to Murdoch, "how did this happen?"

"It is a very long story, Doctor Doyle. A story that can wait. Can you help my son?" Murdoch said as he placed a hand on Johnny's shoulder.

"This looks like it happened what... maybe two weeks ago?" Doyle asked running his fingers over some of the healed wounds.

"About that, maybe a little longer," Johnny answered wincing under the doctor's touch.

"I understand you have a letter from the doctor in Tucson explaining what he felt needs to be done. Why didn't you let the doctor there take care of this?" Doyle asked as he examined the worst areas.

"We were pressed for time, Doctor," Murdoch answered for Johnny.

"I see," Doyle remarked. "Let me see the letter from the doctor in Tucson?"

Murdoch handed the letter to the doctor. He read it and looked again at Johnny's back. Then he said, "let me see your stomach." He moved around and pressed on the tender spot on Johnny's stomach. Johnny flinched and bit his lower lip.

"Mr. Lancer, Doctor Spencer was correct. The back needs debridement. I can do that for you. I also agree with the stomach issues. We could correct the tear with surgery. Although, I have seen a tear correct itself in time." He looked down at the stitched bullet wound in Johnny's side. "There is no mention of the wound in your side. However, it does look like it is healing nicely."

"Can you fix my back, Doc?" Johnny asked. "I'm getting really tired of hurting, and I seem to have a fever all the time."

"I can, and I can do it now if you like," the doctor answered. "As for your stomach; it will heal on its own, but it will take several weeks."

"How soon can he travel if you do the debridement on his back?" Murdoch asked.

"He would need to rest at least 4 to 5 days," Doyle answered studying his young patient.

Johnny had not made eye contact with the doctor since meeting him. He'd kept his head and eyes down.

The doctor cupped Johnny's chin and lifted his head. Johnny's eyes met his. The vivid blue eyes of his Mexican patient shocked him at first. That's when he knew who his patient was. He, along with the entire fort, had heard about the events in Mexico and Nogales. The presence of Slade and the other gunfighters confirmed that his patient was Johnny Madrid.

"Mr. Lancer, how old is your son?" Doyle asked.

"John is 18, Doctor. Why?" Murdoch answered.

The age of the gunfighter surprised him. "Your son hasn't reached the age of majority, so I am going to ask you if you want me to do the procedure on him," the doctor answered while watching Johnny's reaction.

Johnny's head came up, and he looked at his father.

"Doctor, my son has been making decisions about his own health for many years. I think we can allow him to make this one as well," Murdoch replied and smiled at his son.

The doctor turned to Johnny. "What do you want me to do, Mr. Madrid?"

Johnny looked at the doctor and smiled, "Let her buck, Doc."

While the doctor prepared to do the procedure on Johnny's back, Murdoch talked with the others. "Scott, why don't you see what supplies we need while we're here? Val, see if you can find out if we will be having any problems between here and Riverside."

Murdoch paced back and forth across the floor. "Slade, I would like you to stay close by while the doctor is working on Johnny. The doctor doesn't want any of the family in there."

Murdoch stopped pacing and looked at Slade, "I think you should also know he guessed who Johnny is."

Slade's head shot up. He started toward the examination room. "I'll be in there."

Two hours later the doctor and Slade came out. Slade looking a little paler than when he went in.

The doctor wiped his hands on a towel as he watched the faces of the anxious men crowding around him.

"Doctor?" Murdoch asked.

The doctor took a deep breath. "I've debrided his back. There was a great deal of infection, dead skin, and even pieces of the whip itself deeply embedded in the wounds. Hopefully, I got it all. I gave him morphine, and he's still asleep. Once he wakes up, and he feels like he can walk, you can take him. Make sure he gets plenty of fluids and as much rest as he can get. He's going to be in a lot of pain. He needs rest, so make sure he takes the laudanum I'm giving you."

Murdoch, Scott, and Val looked at the doctor in amazement.

"Doctor, how in the world did you get him to let you give him morphine?" Scott asked.

"You can thank Mr. Slade for that," the doctor laughed. "He threatened to knock your brother out himself if he didn't let me give him something for the pain."

Slade had a slight smile on his face as the others laughed.

"Thank you, Doctor," Murdoch shook the man's hand.

"Mr. Lancer, I hope he makes it home safely," the doctor said returning to the examination room.

Murdoch and Scott followed the doctor. Johnny was lying on his side resting quietly. Scott sat down and watched his brother's face.

It wasn't long before dark lashes fluttered open and his eyes quickly found those of his brother. He struggled to get up.

"Are you ready to go?" Scott reached to help Johnny up.

Johnny nodded.

"I'm proud of you for letting the doctor give you something for pain," Scott said as Johnny sat on the side of the bed.

"Wasn't my choice," Johnny gave him a weak smile. "Slade kinda' insisted."

Scott helped his brother outside and onto the wagon. It wasn't long before they were back at the hotel and Johnny was undressed and in bed.

As he lay on his side with his eyes closed, he was taking short breaths while trying to control the pain that was again shooting through his back. Reopening the wounds and cleaning them out had been more painful than when Sanchez had used the whip on him in the first place.

Johnny had planned on taking something for the pain while the doctor worked on him, but then it was Slade that had come in the room instead of his father or Val. There had been no way he would let his guard down around the other gunfighter. He was actually thankful when Slade had stopped the procedure and insisted he take something.

"I'm giving you some laudanum," Scott stated before his brother could protest. "Slade and the men are here, Johnny. You can relax and get some sleep."

Johnny didn't argue. He took the laudanum and was asleep within minutes.

...********

Slade had been the one with Madrid while Doctor Doyle was working on him.

Slade had never seen anything like it. He watched as the doctor cleaned the areas on Madrid's back and used forceps to lift the dead tissue and then cut it away, bit by bit with scissors. More than once he'd turned away rather than watch.

Slade could still see the pain etched on Madrid's face as the doctor slowly peeled back the dead skin like an onion and reopened areas that needed to be cleaned out. Blood from the opened wounds, mixing with sweat and infection, streamed off the boy's back.

Slade knew Madrid had to have been in unbearable pain. He remembered the sweat dripping down the young gunhawks face and the white knuckles clutching the edges of the table. The doctor had offered Madrid something for pain, and he'd refused it saying he needed to keep his mind clear.

The only sounds that had escaped from Madrid's throat had been a few quiet grunts. He could believe what he'd heard about Madrid and the prison, that the only words spoken that day were 'Madrid don't beg.'

"Doc, hold up a minute," Slade held up a hand. It had been fifteen minutes, and he couldn't stand it any longer.

The doctor stopped the procedure and looked up at Slade.

Slade shook his head and leaned in close, "Damn, Madrid if you don't let the Doc give you something, I swear I'm gonna' knock you out myself. I'm here to watch your…. well, I'm here, and no one is gonna' get to you. Trust me, damn it. Let him give you something for the pain."

Slade had breathed a sigh of relief when Madrid squeezed his eyes shut and finally nodded his agreement.

"Thank God," Doyle had said as he gave the young gunfighter morphine. He waited a few minutes for the medicine to take effect before finishing.

Madrid had slept through the rest of the procedure much to the relief of both Slade and the Doctor.

...********

It had been three days since they'd left Fort McDowell. Scott sat with his brother during the night, and Val took over at dawn. Scott fell into the bed next to Johnny's and was asleep within minutes.

The door slowly opened, and Val reached for his gun. He relaxed when he saw it was Murdoch. Murdoch had brought in two cups of coffee, sitting one of them down in front of Val.

"Thanks," Val said as he picked up his cup.

"Has he been awake at all?" Murdoch asked quietly, as he watched his youngest son sleep.

"No," Val answered sipping his coffee, "Scott said he didn't stir at all during the night, thanks be. I don't think any of us could go through another night like that first one."

...********

The first night in Phoenix had proved to be a sleepless one for everyone. At first, Murdoch hadn't known what was happening. It was only after Scott had tried waking a feverish Johnny several times, did he realize his youngest son was in the throes of a nightmare and not just any nightmare.

Johnny felt each lash tear into his back again and again. As his mind registered each lash, his body jerked. His moans became louder and louder until a scream seemed to shake the building. Scott was lying beside his brother on the bed trying to soothe him when Slade had burst through the door, gun drawn.

"It's alright, Johnny," Scott softly said the words as he stroked his brother's head. "Hush... it's alright. You're safe now."

Scott held his brother close as he felt him jerk again and again. He knew what the nightmare was about. Closing his eyes and feeling his brother jerk, he knew Johnny was once again reliving the lash ripping into his back.

Every time he felt his brother shudder, he relived that same day. It was as if he was watching it again. Scott knew then that the moans would be coming. With each moan, Scott felt Johnny arch his back. The scream was something he didn't remember. The sound of the first explosion had muffled the sound of the scream that day.

"Hush, little brother," Scott continued softly speaking as Johnny struggled. "He can't hurt you anymore."

A half-dressed Val had rushed past Slade into the room and came up on the other side of the bed.

"His fever spiked an hour ago," Scott said as Val moved in. "He's having a nightmare."

"Figured that out already. You know what about?" Val asked.

"Sanchez," Scott said in between words of comfort to his brother, not having to say anymore.

"Damn," Val said as he sat on the side of the bed. He reached over and rolled Johnny to him. Johnny jerked in Val's arms, and a loud moan escaped his lips.

"It's gonna' be alright now, hijo. He ain't gonna' hurt you anymore," Val said softly, as he started gently rocking Johnny. "You know we ain't gonna' let him hurt you again."

"Whip...," Johnny's whispered.

"No. Remember, I threw it away. It's gone, and Sanchez is gone. You killed him. He can't hurt anyone ever again," Val said as he continued to rock Johnny in his arms.

Val looked up at Slade who backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. In the hall, Slade turned to see his men, half-dressed, with guns drawn.

"Go on back to bed. He's just having a nightmare, the families with him," Slade said as he looked back at the closed door.

"Must be one hell of a nightmare," Martin said as he pushed his gun into the waistband of his pants.

"Yeah," Slade answered running his fingers through his hair, "one hell of a nightmare."

Murdoch stood at the foot of the bed and watched his son call out to Val.

"Papi," Johnny cried out, his breathing hard and fast, "no more, Papi,"

"No, hijo. No more," Val held tight and rocked gently. "Sanchez ain't gonna' hurt you no more. Go on back to sleep."

It took almost an hour before exhaustion claimed Johnny.

Murdoch watched as his son dropped into a restless sleep and Val laid him back down.

"Thank you," Murdoch said softly, as Val stood up and started for the door.

"Da nada," Val answered trying to hide his emotions. He opened the door and closed it behind him.

Murdoch felt helpless that night as he watched Val and Scott tend his son. They knew what he was reliving in his nightmare. They had been there and seen it for themselves. They knew what needed to be said to calm his son. All he could do that night was sit and watch and pray his son's nightmare would soon be over.

When the next day saw no improvement, they had sent Tate to the fort to bring the doctor back.

Doctor Doyle walked into the hotel and down the hall. He almost felt nervous as he saw Slade and his men standing in the doorways of their rooms.

"Doc," Slade nodded as he opened the door to Johnny's room.

"Mr. Slade," the doctor replied before stepping into the room.

"Thank you for coming," Murdoch was on his feet even before the doctor had gotten one foot in the door.

Slade stepped into the room behind the doctor and closed the door.

"I'm glad you sent for me, Mr. Lancer," the doctor said as he walked to the bed. "I've been worried about him since he left my office yesterday. I take it he isn't doing well?"

"No," Murdoch replied as he moved back to the bed. "The fever started last night. We've tried cooling him down, but the fever just seems to be getting higher, and he's in a lot of pain."

"Let me take a look at his back. Help me get him on his stomach," the doctor sat his bag down and sat on the side of the bed.

Scott and Val moved Johnny from his side onto his stomach. Doctor Doyle started taking the bandages off he'd put on the day before. Slade looked away, needing no reminder of what was under the bandages.

"I was afraid of this. Some of the deeper wounds are still infected. I need to clean them out again," the doctor said. "I'm going to give him a shot of morphine for the pain."

"What can we do for the fever?" Scott asked.

"I have some willow bark tea with me. We need to keep trying to cool him down and get him to drink as much water as you can," the doctor said as he looked around the room. "Mr. Lancer, I would prefer you not be here while I do this."

Murdoch looked at Scott and Val before nodding. He waved his oldest son and Val toward the door, looking at Slade.

"I'll stay with him in case the Doc needs some help," Slade said wishing he could leave the room as well.

Doctor Doyle watched the door close and then turned back to his patient. Johnny's heart rate was too fast as well as his breathing. He took a syringe from his bag and carefully filled it with the morphine, all the time mindful of Jack Slade watching his every move.

It wasn't long before they both could see the young man relax. Satisfied his patient would feel no pain; the doctor began to clean the wounds.

"It looks like he's pulled some of the stitches I put in yesterday," the doctor said as he examined Johnny's back more carefully.

"He had a nightmare last night; thrashed around some. Scott had a hard time holding him," Slade answered remembering the night before.

"From the looks of it, he thrashed a great deal. I can only imagine what kind of nightmares this young man is having. No one his age should be having nightmares to begin with, let alone…," the doctor shook his head not finishing the sentence.

Slade didn't say anything.

Two hours later, Doctor Doyle stepped into the hall and came face to face with Murdoch. "He's asleep right now. I cleaned his back wounds again. Mr. Slade and I have moved him to the other bed. The linens on his bed will need to be changed. All we can do is try to keep the fever down. I've done all I can do, Mr. Lancer. It's up to him now."

Scott slid past the doctor and went back to his brother. He sighed with relief as he watched the younger man sleeping quietly for the first time in days.

...********

Now, three days later, Johnny still seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

"I got here a little while ago," Val said. "Scott just fell asleep."

Murdoch took his coffee cup and studied it for several minutes without tasting it. He looked at Val and started to say something and stopped.

"You got something on your mind, Murdoch?" Val sat his coffee down.

"Val, you've known Johnny for a long time, haven't you?" Murdoch sat his cup down.

"Yeah, a long time," Val took another sip of the coffee hoping the conversation wasn't going where he thought it was going.

"How long... how many years have you known him?" Murdoch asked looking at his coffee cup.

"Murdoch, you sure you want to talk about this now?" Val asked as he watched Johnny sleep.

"I think so. I need to know... I need answers," Murdoch looked at Val.

"It's really Johnny's story to tell, not mine," Val answered.

"Val, please," Murdoch sat his cup down. "I've waited too long to hear the story. I think it's your story too, isn't it?"

Finally, Val had to decide. Maybe, Murdoch was right. It was just as much his story as Johnny's. He sat for almost a full minute before looking up at the tall rancher and started to speak.

"I guess I've known him right on 13 years now," Val answered rolling the coffee cup in his hands.

"You knew Maria, didn't you?" Murdoch asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah, I knew Maria. You sure you want to know...?" Val was watching Murdoch's face now.

"Yes," Murdoch answered and leaned into the table. "Yes, please, Val. I need to know."

"Well, it's a long story," Val laughed. "I actually met Johnny before I met Maria. First time I saw the kid he was trying to steal my saddlebags."

"How old was he?" Murdoch wanted to know.

"Until the other day, I could have told you pretty close how old he was. You say he's 18 now. Well, whatever age I thought he was, I'll just take a year off of it," Val answered.

"Go on," Murdoch settled back in the chair.

...********

Val sat back and tried to relax. He began the story. He only hoped that he still had a friend when he was finished.

"Well, I was down in Sasabe, a little town right on the border. I'd just finished a gun job in Mexico and was heading north. I'd put my horse in the stable and unsaddled it. Laid my saddle and saddlebags down and went to brush my horse down. I looked around, and this little Mex kid was trying to lift the bags and drag them out the door. Hell, the saddlebags probably weighed more than he did.

I figured the kid was around six years old, by your reckoning he was 5. He was nothing but skin and bones, looked like he hadn't eaten in days. It didn't take me three steps to catch up with him.

I lifted him up by the shirt, turned him around, and was about to yell at him when he looked me straight in the eye. Those vivid blue eyes caught me off guard. The boy started cursing at me in Spanish to put him down. Then the little sh…," Val stopped himself and dipped his head. "Well, then he hauled off and kicked me in the gut. I dropped him on his rear end.

He started to get up and run, but I guess when he fell, he twisted his ankle. He fell over on his face. Next thing I know, he'd buried his head in his arms and was begging me not to hit him.

I sat down next to him and pulled him upright. The boy still thought I was gonna' hit him. He looked like he was gonna' start crying, but he just lowered his head and wrapped his arms around himself. You know how he does. Well, that was the way he did that day.

I asked him if he was hungry. It didn't take him long to look up at me through those long dark lashes, and said in just a whisper, "Si."

I picked up my gear and saddlebags and then lifted the kid off the ground. Lordy, don't think he weighed more than 40 pounds. I took his hand and walked him to the cantina. I remember how small his hand was in mine.

I sat him down at one of the tables in the cantina. He looked around like he was scared someone was gonna' yell at him for being in there.

The bartender came over yelling and waving his arms, saying the kid would have to leave. When I ask him why, he told me that he didn't want the little mestizo in his cantina. You could see the boy shrink up in the chair and he started to get up.

I put a hand on his arm and pulled him back down and told the bartender the kid was with me and if he didn't like it... well, I put my hand on the butt of my gun. He got the idea," Val laughed again and took a sip of the coffee that had now gone cold.

"Well, I had the bartender bring us some tamales and frijoles. Never did see a kid put away so much food in so short a time. I told him once to slow down, that he was gonna' make himself sick. He just looked at me with those blue eyes and swallowed what he had in his mouth. That was the first time I ever saw him smile," Val glanced over at Johnny.

Johnny's eyes were still closed, but tears were streaming down his face. Val had to decide, keep going or stop the story now. He decided it was best to keep going.

"I found out the boy's Mama worked at the cantina...," Val stopped and looked at Murdoch. He took a deep breath. "You sure you want to know all this?"

"Yes," Murdoch answered, "please, Val, go on."

Val took a deep breath and let it out, "That night, I met the boy's Mama. She came into the cantina and saw the kid sitting with me. She was right angry at the boy until I told her that he was there because I wanted him there. She looked up at me and smiled. God, she had a smile on her," he sighed, remembering the woman that had stolen his heart that night.

"Maria was probably the prettiest woman I'd ever seen. We...," he stopped and then decided it was best to leave some things out of the telling. "Murdoch, I don't feel real comfortable talking to you about some of this."

"Val, I've read the Pinkerton reports on Maria. I know what my wife did to make a living. I admit I'm not completely comfortable knowing you … knowing you knew her; however, I want to know what happened. I think it's time," Murdoch said as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Alright, then. I had no intention of staying around Sasabe. I'd planned to spend four days resting up and then move on. I started spending my days with the boy and the nights with his Mama. After a week she asked me to move in with them.

Hell, I was just a kid myself at the time, don't think I was much over twenty. I didn't have any plans on settling down with a woman and a kid, but by the time she asked me to move in, I'd fallen head over heels in love with Maria and the boy.

She and the kid had a one-room shack on the outskirts of town. There was only one bed and a straw pallet on the floor in the corner for the boy. That first night… well, I didn't feel comfortable with the boy in the shack with us.

Maria pushed the boy out the door and then turned to smile at me. I didn't know where he'd gone, to tell the truth, I didn't much care that night. Figured he went to the stable or to some friend's house. I didn't find out until the next morning he'd spent the night sleeping on the ground outside the shack.

I found out that Maria entertained her men in the bed most nights while the boy was in the room with them. I put a stop to that. I found us a bigger place in town with two bedrooms. I think it was the first time the boy had a real bed of his own.

In the beginning, I was fool enough to think I had exclusive rights to her. I learned real quick I didn't. You see Maria kept that one room shack for her…work. That was fine by me cause like I said, I might not have had exclusive rights to her, but that boy was another thing. I made sure he was clean, got feed at least twice every day, and none of Maria's men touched him. I also made sure he wasn't around when she was seeing her other men.

I got a job at a ranch nearby. Sometimes I took Johnny out there with me. Actually, a lot of times, just to keep him clear of his Mama while she worked.

They raised horses on the ranch. I think the boy was happiest when he was around a horse. The first time I saw Johnny walk into a corral full of horses I almost lost my mind trying to get to him. You know what that boy did? He walked right in there and stood in the middle of all them horses and started talking to them.

Guess he'd been watching some of the vaqueros breaking the horses. Next thing I knew one of the horses walked over to him and lowered his head so that he could reach up and stroke his nose. You should have heard him laughing," Val laughed remembering the day.

"I edged my way into the corral and grabbed him around the waist and hauled him out. I didn't know whether to hug him or tan his hide. Guess I did both. I told him never to do that again. He just looked at me, and he got a real wide smile spread across his face. Said them horses wouldn't hurt him," Val smiled remembering the small arms that had encircled his neck afterward.

He shifted in his chair and frowned.

"One night I asked Maria about Johnny's Pa. She told me that he was a rich gringo rancher in California by the name of Lancer. She told the kid and me over and over again how Lancer had kicked her and the boy out. She said you didn't want a Mex wife and a half-breed son," Val held up a hand when Murdoch started to protest.

"I know, Murdoch; it was a lie. Thought so then, too. See, when she was sober, she said you had kicked her out. When she was drunk, and she was drunk a lot, she said she should have left the boy with you. She said she would have been better off not saddled with a mestizo.

I asked her then if the boy's Pa had kicked him out why he would want to keep the boy. Her story always kept changing. One time it would be that you kicked her out but wanted the boy. Another time it was she left because you didn't love her anymore. Then another time she admitted she'd left you because she didn't want to be a rancher's wife. She took the boy with her to hurt you," Val was now staring at the floor. He could feel the hurt Murdoch was feeling.

"It wasn't easy for a boy with blue eyes down along the border. A lot of kids with blue eyes didn't make it very long down there. Most times their own mothers killed them when they were born. Guess that's why he always tried to hide his eyes by keeping his head down.

The boy was getting picked on and beat up all the time. There was more than once I knocked a bigger kid and even grown men off of him. You know he never cried though. He'd have a bloody nose and a black eye, but he never cried, except for one time," Val stopped and wiped a tear from his eye.

He looked over at Scott lying in the next bed. "I know you're awake, Scott. Might as well sit up and listen to this. We're gonna' get this all out in the open right now."

Scott turned over and sat on the side of the bed. He'd woken up when Val had started the story, not feeling any guilt at all at listening to the story of how his brother and this man had met.

"That one time he cried was when I brought him home after he'd gotten beat up. I walked him in the house and went to get a wet towel to wipe his face. Maria came in. She'd been drinking. She took one look at Johnny, and before I could stop her, she backhanded him. Knocked the boy across the room. He bounced off the wall and slid to the floor.

She started yelling at him and told him that she hated him and wished he were dead. She said she should have drowned him when he was born like other mestizo kids. She told him it was because of him that she didn't have an elegant home and fine things.

I never saw him look that way before. He pulled himself up and ran out the door. Took me near on an hour to find him. He was curled up in a stall in the stable and was crying so hard I thought his heart was gonna' burst. I held him close to me and rocked him until he fell asleep.

I can tell you right now, Maria never touched him again as long as I was with her. I kept the boy close to me from then on. I stayed with him at night when Maria was working. I didn't want him around the men she was...well the men she was seeing.

Things changed between Maria and me after that night. We still... but, well, I didn't feel the same way toward her, and she knew it. The only reason I stayed with her was the boy.

It was about four weeks after that I got a gun job just north of the border. I didn't want to leave them. Maria had been acting different. I knew something was wrong.

The boy wanted to go with me. I told him it was too dangerous. Guess he knew something was wrong, too. I left them one morning, and when I got back a week later, they were gone. No one knew where they'd gone."

Val took a breath and looked at Murdoch and Scott. The story had been hard for them to hear up to this point. The rest of the story was going to be harder.

"Murdoch, I was with Maria and Johnny maybe a year. The best year of my life up until then. In the beginning, I thought I loved Maria. It wasn't Maria I loved; it was that boy.

I started looking for them. I looked everywhere, but I was always one step behind her. You know I never figured it out until after I got the job in Green River and met you, but everywhere I looked for them there was always a Pinkerton agent. Don't know which of us was causing her to run.

It was a little over four years later. I figured Johnny was about ten since you say his birthday is in December, then he was 6 when Maria ran off with him.

Well, I was in a saloon in Agua Prieta and overheard some gambler telling about how he got his arm hurt. He said that two years earlier in Matamoros, the kid of the woman he'd been living with had shot him and left him for dead.

He said good old Maria was just a Mexican whore and that the kid was a blue-eyed half-breed. He was gloating on how he'd beaten the woman and broke her neck in front of the kid and then beat the kid really good after he'd killed his Mama. Sounded proud of himself when he told everyone that he'd put a knife in the kids gut. The kid got his gun and shot him and then ran out into the night to die. Johnny would have been eight at the time," Val looked at the small scar on Johnny's stomach. Murdoch's eyes followed Val's.

Val glanced at Johnny's face. Tears were streaming down the boy's face, and his shoulders were quivering.

"I rode hard to Matamoros. Found people that remembered Maria and Johnny. They told me they'd found the boy more dead than alive the night his Mama died and had taken him to the mission.

I went to the mission and found one of the Padres that had doctored him. He said they had kept him there close to six months hoping someone would come to claim him. They finally turned him over to an orphanage. I went to the orphanage and found out Johnny had been there about three months before he ran off. I lost his trail after that. I kept looking, though," Val stopped, sounding tired.

"It was a couple of years later I was in a saloon in Nogales. Heard that there was going to be a gunfight. Some kid by the name of Madrid had called out a gambler. I'd heard of Madrid. He was just starting to build a reputation," Val stopped and leaned forward. He could see everything replaying in his mind.

"I stood on the boardwalk and watched the gambler face the thinnest kid I'd ever seen. He was wearing a red shirt, about three sizes too big, and a gun belt that was too heavy for him. The gambler was the one I'd seen in Agua Prieta two years earlier.

The gambler said something about the kid needed to go grow up some and then come back. Madrid said he was grown enough to kill the man that had murdered his Ma and tried to kill him. The gambler seemed to look really close at the boy and then grinned.

Thinking back on that day, I saw the kid look my way, and I swear he must have recognized me. Anyway, I guess I'd distracted him some. The gambler drew and fired. Even distracted the kid was a split second faster. They both went down in the street.

I walked over to the gambler. He was dead; had a bullet between the eyes.

I went over to look at the kid. Scared the hell out of me when I bent over him, and he grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me down. He looked up at me with those blue eyes and told me to get him out of the dirt.

I could tell the gambler's bullet had caught him in the chest. I picked him up and took him to Doc Spencer.

It took a while before he was back on his feet, but after that, we started riding together. That was about six years ago, if he's 18 now he would have been 12 when he killed the gambler. He'd already been working on his reputation by then.

We rode together until about two years ago. We did a job down in Temecula. After the job, I stayed on as the sheriff there. I was getting too old for the game and too slow. I knew it, and so did Johnny," Val looked at Murdoch and then at Scott.

"I wanted him to stay with me, to be my deputy. We both knew it wouldn't work. Johnny's reputation had gotten too big. We both knew that there would always be someone coming into town to try and take that reputation away from him. Johnny rode out of Temecula one morning, and I thought my heart was gonna' break.

When I heard that Madrid had died in front of that firing squad, my heart did break. I locked myself in my room and drank myself to sleep for a week. It was about three weeks later I heard he was in the Morro Coyo. I quit my job in Temecula and rode north. Well, you know the rest," Val took a deep breath.

"Val, the old marks on his back?" Murdoch pinched the bridge of his nose holding back his emotions.

Val shook his head. "Some were there when I first found him. The strap marks were from Maria's men. From what he would tell me, her men used him as a punching bag more than once. They did more than beat him... well, that's his story to tell if he ever wants to tell you. The old whip marks are from the last time he was in the prison before he came home to you."

Val leaned forward and put his hand on Murdoch's, "Murdoch, Johnny loved his Ma, the problem was that Maria didn't love him. Don't think she ever did. If she had loved him, she wouldn't have let them men lay a hand on him.

Maria took him away from me, for the same reason she took him away from you. She wanted to hurt us. She never considered what was best for him.

He learned early not cry and not to beg. The only time he ever begged was that night Maria hit him. You don't know what it was like to hold that small boy in my arms and him begging his Mama to forgive him for being born. That was the last time he begged for anything," his voice broke. "Scott, that's why he wouldn't beg for Sanchez."

"Val, why didn't he know how old he was?" Scott asked.

"Maria never told us. I asked her once when his birthday was. She said it was something she didn't want to remember. She figured it didn't matter if he knew how old he was. I'm the one who came up with a birthday for him and an age. I chose his birthday as June 3rd cause that's the day I met him."

"How could it not matter?" Murdoch asked trying to control his temper.

Val hesitated for a moment and then answered, "She never figured he'd live past 10 and he almost didn't."

"Mr. Lancer, the day Maria took him from me it felt like my heart was going to tear right out of my chest. It seemed to stop beating. It didn't start beating again until the day I found him. I lost him for six years. I can't imagine what you went through losing him for 16 years.

Johnny and I talked when I took the job in Green River. We didn't know how you were going to feel about me and Maria or me and him. I told him then, and I'm telling you now, he would never have to make a choice between us. You're his Pa and his blood. You want me to leave; I will," Val's voice was shaking.

"It's still Murdoch, Val," Murdoch answered. "No, Val, you're not leaving. He'll never have to choose between us. I'm afraid to know which way he would choose anyway."

Val let out a sigh.

"Val, thank you for telling us," Murdoch said. "Thank you for being there for him when I couldn't. I'm not sure I want Johnny to know that we know what happened just yet."

"It's a little late for that," Val wasn't smiling. "He's been awake for some time now."

Murdoch and Scott turned to see Johnny watching them. There were tears in his eyes. "John."

"I never wanted you to know about Mama. I never wanted you to know what she'd become. I never wanted you to know how she died. I don't want you to hate her or me or Val. I couldn't protect her. I couldn't even protect myself. I tried, but I just couldn't do it," Johnny buried his head in his arms.

Murdoch moved to the bed and put an arm around his son's shoulders, lifting him. "John, you were just a child. It wasn't your place to protect her. She should have protected you. Son, I needed to know. I know you loved her. I loved her. It wasn't enough. She never loved us," he turned to look at Val, "any of us."

"I know now I could never have kept her. I wish to God; she'd left you with me. You're the one thing Maria Ruiz ever did that was right. You shouldn't have had to live the life you did. I am thankful you had Val, and I don't hate him. I don't hate you. I could never hate you, son. I love you."

Johnny turned his head to look at his brother. There was a smile on Scott's face. "I know it hurts, but, it's out in the open now. No more secrets," he said as he moved to the other side of the bed and put his arm around Johnny as well.

"Maria Ruiz?" Johnny looked at his father with eyes. "You said my middle name was Ruiz. Didn't know I had a middle name until that day outside Tucson. Is that where it came from?"

"Didn't she tell you anything?" Murdoch asked. "Her family name was Ruiz. That's why we choose it as your middle name. I'm sorry son. I know you loved her, but..."

"You don't know, Murdoch. I didn't love her. I stopped loving her a little at a time. I stopped a little bit that night she hit me, and I cried my heart out in Val's arms. I stopped more when she left Val. That day we left Val I cried for him. She told me she would get me another Papi. She said she hated Val.

When I wouldn't stop crying, she hit me again. She told me never to cry again, and I didn't. I stopped loving her a little more when she let the men, she was sleeping with, beat me while she watched and laughed.

I stopped loving her altogether when... Just know that the night the gambler killed her, there wasn't any love left in me for her." Tears were no longer running down his face.

"Murdoch, like Val said, we didn't know how to tell you about him and Mama or him and me. We didn't know how you would take it. I guess I was scared. Can't remember being scared of much after I learned to use a gun, but I was afraid to tell you about Val. I couldn't lose him again, and I didn't want to lose you.

So that you know, I decided when Val came to Green River that I could never choose between the two of you."

"You would ride away from both of us if you had to make a choice, wouldn't you?" Murdoch asked, knowing the answer. He could see it in his son's eyes. "Don't worry, son. I think there's room in your life for both Val and me."

Johnny looked over to see a smile on Val's face.

"How are you feeling?" Murdoch asked as he lowered Johnny back onto the bed.

"Tired, real tired. I think I can sleep," Johnny's was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

"Go back to sleep, son. Don't worry; we'll all be right here when you wake up," Murdoch whispered as Johnny closed his eyes.

...********

Val and Murdoch walked into the hallway leaving Scott and Johnny sleeping.

"Are we gonna' be alright Murdoch?" Val asked with concern in his voice.

"We have to be alright, Val. You heard what he said. He'd ride out and leave us both behind if he had to choose between us. Do you want to lose him? I know I can't lose him again," Murdoch answered.

"Thank you," Val smiled and said a silent prayer. "It would have broken my heart to leave him or if he chose you over me. Like I said, you're his Pa. He only needs one Pa, and that's you.

He and I came to an understanding years ago. The first time I tried to tell him to do something like his Pa, he pulled his gun on me. Told me he didn't have a Pa and didn't need one. Said he needed a friend. That's what I've tried to be for him. He knows how I feel about him. I may love him like he's my son, but I treat him like a friend. I let him decide when he needs more from me. I'm happy with the way things are between us."

"He's so headstrong. We butt heads over everything. He listens to you," Murdoch sighed.

"He loves you, Murdoch. He just needs time. Time to learn to be a son and you need time to learn to be his father. You'll get there," Val answered.

"Well, maybe I can take some lessons from you on how to get him to listen to me," Murdoch laughed.

"We get him home I think you'll see he'll settle right in," Val said.

"Will he?" Murdoch shook his head. "I never understood his life until now. I can't believe he'll really ever be able to settle down to ranch life."

"He'll settle down. I know he loves Lancer. I've never seen him happier than when he's at the ranch. It's true he had problems in the beginning. You have to remember he's been Johnny Madrid a whole lot longer than Johnny Lancer. You're gonna' have to let him settle at his own pace. You just have to remember he's always gonna' be Johnny Madrid."

"How have you dealt with this larger than life person the people down here think he is? How have you dealt with Madrid?" Murdoch asked.

"When folks first started treating him like he was a hero or a saint, he ate it up. You could see it going to his head, and he started believing it himself. Then one day he decided to help out a little village down in Sonora. Wouldn't listen to me and took off on his own. He thought he was a big man. Well, things didn't work out the way they should have. I rode after him, but I got there a day too late. Found him shot up and most of the village was wiped out. After that, he started taking all that praise with a grain of salt.

'Course after the prison break and Nogales I'm afraid we're gonna' have to rein him in a little tighter. You thought the legend of Madrid was larger than life before; you have no idea what it'll be like now."

"Maybe together we can keep him in line," Murdoch turned to go to his room. "Val, I mean it. Thank you for telling me about Maria. It wasn't easy to hear, but it answers questions I've had for many years."

...********

It was the early hours of the next morning before Johnny woke up again. Val was still sitting with him. He tried to roll off his side and onto his back. A groan made Val's head shoot up.

"About time you woke up," Val leaned over him. He took a wet cloth and wiped Johnny's forehead. "Been worried about you, boy."

"How long?" Johnny moaned. The story Val had told to Murdoch and Scott seemed like a dream.

"You've been asleep off and on now going on four days," Val answered. "You want some water?"

Johnny nodded.

"Any problems while I've been taking my siesta?" Johnny asked while sipping the water.

"Nope, everything's been quiet," Val answered. "You've had a fever. It broke a couple of days ago. Your back looks some better."

"It still hurts," Johnny sighed, "but not that razor blade pain I've had since the prison."

Val put his hand on Johnny's arm and squeezed. "I'll get Murdoch and Scott. After they've seen you, maybe you'll let me give you something to help with the pain, and you can go back to sleep. We'll see how you feel in the morning."

"Val," Johnny tried to get situated, "I noticed you've been calling him Murdoch since Nogales instead of Mr. Lancer."

"He told me to use his first name," Val smiled. "I wanted to be with you back at the doctor's office. He said the doctor didn't want any family with you while he worked on you. Murdoch wouldn't let me go in. Guess I'm family now."

Johnny smiled, "You've always been my family, Papi. Thank you for telling them for me. I don't think I could have ever done it."

"Well, let me go get them," Val said as he turned and walked out of the room.

A few minutes later Murdoch and Scott came in. "John," Murdoch said as he sat on the side of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Little brother," Scott squeezed Johnny's arm.

"Feeling some better," Johnny yawned. "I'll be ready to move on in the morning."

"We'll see, John," Murdoch patted his son's leg. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I am," Johnny tried to sit up. "Can I have something other than broth?"

"Not today, son," Murdoch stood up. "Broth today and then we'll see. You still have the injury to your stomach, and you'll still have to be careful."

"Val said everything's been quiet. No word on anything out of Mexico?" Johnny questioned.

"We received a telegram from Cipriano. He and the men are back at the ranch," Murdoch said.

"Everything has been quiet," Scott answered. "And, no, nothing out of Mexico."

Scott left the room and returned shortly with chicken broth. After Johnny ate, Scott gave him a half dose of laudanum. He eased down in the bed and was asleep within minutes.

...********

Slade was getting anxious. It had been four days, and he didn't like sitting in one place too long. He had ten very nervous gunhawks on his hands as well.

In the last two days, Slade had made daily trips to Madrid's room. Each time he'd seen for himself that the man was actually there and was sleeping. There had been someone from the family with him every minute since they had returned from Fort McDowell.

Slade was on his way up to do his daily check on Madrid when Scott came down the stairs.

"Johnny woke up this morning," Scott was smiling. "I think we can make plans to leave in the morning."

"I need to meet with Mr. Lancer today and go over our route and what we can look forward to," Slade replied while saying a silent 'thank you.'

"I'll let him know. Johnny will want to be at the meeting, so it had better be in our room," Scott answered.

"How about around 1:00?" Slade asked.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Scott said as he turned and went back up the stairs.

...********

It was close to noon when Murdoch woke Johnny. By 1:00 Johnny had cleaned up, shaved, and dressed. He'd just put his rig on when Murdoch, Scott, and Val entered the room followed by Slade.

"Understand we can move on in the morning? You sure you feel up to it?" Slade asked looking at Johnny.

"I can travel," Johnny answered. "I should be able to sit a saddle by myself in a couple of days."

"I've talked with the soldiers out at the fort. They say the Apaches have been quiet the last couple of weeks between here and the California line. It's right at 130 miles across to Fort Tyson near the line. If we make good time of 20 to 30 miles a day it's gonna' take us 5 or 6 days," Slade said as he leaned against a wall. "I've never been this way before. Don't think there is anything between here and Fort Tyson, except desert. I know there aren't any towns at all along the trail."

"I've never gone this route," Johnny said. "I like the border trails myself."

"What's at Fort Tyson?" Scott asked.

"There's a stage station right outside the fort. It's called Tyson's Well," Slade said. "We can get water there and supplies at the fort."

"We passed through Tyson's Well on the way here," Murdoch spoke up. "We stayed overnight there before coming on to Phoenix. You're right, there's nothing between Phoenix and Tyson's Well."

"What's the water situation between here and Fort Tyson?" Scott asked.

"Don't know. I don't really think there are any water holes. We should take at least three extra barrels of water with us to be on the safe side," Slade answered. "Mr. Lancer, once we get to Fort Tyson, there's still another 200 miles before we get to the next major town and that's Riverside."

"So, you're saying that there is only one place to get water that we know of in the next 16 days?" Scott said looking at his father.

"No, once we get to Tyson's Well, we'll start following the Butterfield stage route into Riverside. There are regular stage stations and waterholes along the route," Slade answered.

"Sounds like we have a plan," Murdoch said. "I'd like to leave as early as possible tomorrow while it is still cool."

"We can do that," Slade agreed. "We'll have the horses saddled, and the wagon hitched up by 5:30 if that's alright with you?"

Everyone looked at Johnny. "5:30 sounds good," he responded.

There was a knock at the door. Johnny, Slade, and Val all had their hands on their gun butts. Scott opened the door and stepped aside.

Bonner stood in the doorway with his hat in his hand, "Slade, just had a couple of gunhawks ride in from Tucson. They said there were some men in Tucson that were asking about Madrid."

"Did the gunhawks know if those men were heading toward Phoenix?" Slade asked moving toward Bonner.

"No, but I'm sure there were enough people in Tucson that knew we were heading this way," Bonner answered. "Figure someone's bound to have told them."

"Alright, get all the men together over at the saloon. I need to go over what we're going to do tomorrow," Slade said. He turned to Johnny. "You feel like going for a walk? I'd like all of you there, too."

Murdoch stood up and walked over to Johnny. "John?"

"I'd like to get out of this room for a while. The saloon sounds good," Johnny picked up his hat and started toward the door catching Slade off guard. He went past Bonner and started down the hall before the others realized he was on the move.

Johnny stopped at the top of the stairs and took in the lobby of the hotel. A few gunfighters were standing around, as well as the desk clerk. Johnny looked over his shoulder to see Slade coming up behind him. He didn't wait for Slade.

Johnny slowly walked down the stairs. The effects of the laudanum hadn't worn off, so he wasn't feeling any pain. He was at the bottom of the stairs before anyone noticed him.

"We're going over to the saloon," Slade pushed passed Johnny and gave him an angry glare. He wasn't happy with the man he was supposed to be protecting taking the lead.

Johnny followed Slade out of the hotel and across the street to the saloon. He watched Slade stop at the batwing doors and look inside. Slade moved through the doors and sidestepped. Johnny followed him in, and sidestepped in the opposite direction, before moving to a table in the back corner and sitting with his back to the wall.

Slade followed Johnny and pulled a chair around and put his own back to the wall.

Murdoch, Scott, and Val had watched the interaction between Johnny and Slade.

Val wondered if there was going to be a battle of wills between the two famous gunfighters, now that Johnny was feeling better. He knew he was going to have to talk to Johnny.

Murdoch, Scott, and Val sat with Johnny and Slade. The other gunfighters took tables around them.

The bartender walked over and asked what they wanted. He took orders from everyone, except Johnny. He walked off and came back with the drinks. He started to leave again when Johnny spoke up. "Mister I'd like to get..."

Slade had his beer almost to his lips when the bartender cut Johnny off, "We don't serve your kind in here."

Slade sat his glass down and looked at the bartender before glancing sideways at Johnny.

Silence fell over the saloon.

Johnny pushed back his hat and asked in a soft drawl, "What kind would that be, mister?

"Half-breeds," the bartender sneered.

Slade could see Murdoch tense up, and Scott started to get to his feet. Val just looked at the bartender and shook his head. The look on Val's face told him that this wasn't the first time he'd heard those words about the young gunfighter.

Johnny took a deep breath. He really didn't want a fight. He smiled. "Mister, I'd sure hate to cause a ruckus in here. Why not bring me a glass...?"

"I told you, boy, I don't serve your kind. You need to either shut up or get out," the bartender spat the words out.

Slade could see this getting ugly fast. He knew Madrid was going to do something that none of them wanted. "Mister, I think you really should bring the man what he wants to drink," Slade drawled.

Johnny glared at Slade. "I can take care of this myself, Slade."

"I know you can, Madrid. I just thought we could get through one more night here without killing the bartender," Slade smiled.

The bartender looked at Johnny again. "Didn't know it was you, Mister Madrid. What can I get you?"

Johnny looked at the bartender. "Normally I'd get tequila, but ... you got any milk?"

"Milk?" the bartender looked confused.

"Yeah, milk, fresh. You got any?" Johnny took off his hat and put it on the table in front of him.

"I think so. I'll be right back," the man said and turned back to the bar.

Murdoch smiled at his son.

Slade took a long drink on his beer, glancing at Johnny.

Johnny looked back at him and grinned. "I wouldn't have shot him."

The bartender returned with a glass of milk and sat it in front of Johnny. "Thanks," Johnny said before he took two long drinks of the cold milk.

Slade looked around at his men. "We're leaving in the morning. Need everyone ready to travel by 5:30. We're going to do some traveling before it gets too hot. We'll stop at midday and rest the horses and then move on when it starts to cool off. Make sure you fill every canteen you have. Martin, make sure we have three extra barrels of water."

Martin nodded.

"What about the Apache?" Gammon asked.

"Soldiers say things have been quiet," Slade answered. "Bonner told me a little while ago there were some men in Tucson looking for Madrid. Figure they'll find out which way we're headed. I expect we'll be meeting up with them at some point." He looked around. "Anyone got any questions?"

No one said anything. "Madrid?" Slade looked at Johnny who was sitting quietly staring at the glass of milk.

Johnny looked up realizing everyone was looking at him. "What?"

"You got any questions about tomorrow?" Slade asked again.

"Nope. I'll be ready by 5:30," Johnny pushed himself up from the chair. "Think I'll get some air." Johnny picked up his hat, stepped around the table, and started for the door.

Murdoch looked at Scott and motioned him to follow his brother. Scott stood up and walked out after Johnny. He found his brother leaning on a post outside the saloon.

"Are you alright?" Scott stepped up beside Johnny.

"I'm fine," Johnny answered taking a couple of deep breaths. "Just wishing this trip was over. I want to get home."

"I know I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed and having some of Maria's cooking," Scott laughed.

"Yeah, I bet Barranca's forgotten all about me," Johnny smiled.

"I doubt that," Scott put an arm around his brother's shoulder. "You want something to eat? I bet we can find some of that chicken soup you had the other day."

"Not right now," Johnny wrapped his arms around his stomach and bent over a little. "Who would have thought milk could upset my stomach?"

"The milk made you sick?" Scott looked concerned. "Has milk ever made you sick before?"

"No," Johnny was making his way to the side of the building. "I'll be right back." He was going to throw up.

Scott watched Johnny start around the side of the building. "Johnny, stop! Stay right there."

Johnny stopped and turned back to look at Scott. Scott made sure Johnny was still in view and stepped back into the saloon. Stewart and Martin were sitting closest to the door. He grabbed Stewart's arm and pulled him to his feet. "Get out there and stay with Johnny. Martin, you go with him."

The two men walked out of the saloon and saw Johnny leaning against the building with his arms wrapped around his stomach. Johnny looked at them and then turned around and finished his walk to the side of the building.

Scott quickly walked back to the table.

Slade, Murdoch, and Val watched Scott march toward them. Scott reached across the table and picked up the glass of milk Johnny was drinking. He smelled the milk and then put his finger in the glass and tasted it before spitting out the bitter tasting liquid.

"Scott, what's wrong?" Murdoch asked pushing his chair back.

"There's something in the milk," Scott answered turning to look at the bartender.

"Where's Johnny?" Murdoch asked.

Val was on his feet before Murdoch. They hit the batwing doors at the same time.

Slade pushed back his chair and stood up. Taking the glass of milk from Scott, he put his finger in the glass just as Scott had done. He spat the milk out and looked at the bartender.

Everyone was on their feet now.

"What'd you put in the milk?" Slade asked the bartender.

"Nothing," the bartender protested. "Didn't put nothing in the milk."

Slade took the glass to the bar. "Drink it," he pushed it toward the bartender.

The bartender took a step back.

"Drink it!" Slade's eyes narrowed on the man.

The bartender didn't move.

"I should have let him shoot you," Slade growled. "You tried to poison him, you sick bastard? Why?"

"Just wanted to make him sick. Wasn't no poison," the bartender said.

"Why!?" Slade repeated loudly.

"Don't matter who he is, he's still a filthy half-breed," the bartender spat out loud enough for those both inside and outside the saloon to hear.

Slade took the glass and threw it at the bartender, before turning and quickly walking out of the saloon.

Slade found Murdoch and Val standing on either side of Madrid. The young gunfighter looked pale.

"He put something in the milk, didn't he?" Johnny asked already knowing the answer.

Slade nodded.

"Glad I didn't drink all of it," Johnny took a deep breath. He became angry, "I really do need to go shoot him. Bad for my image if I let him get away with that."

Murdoch was listening to the exchange. "No, son, I'll take care of the bartender. You go back to the hotel."

Johnny and Scott looked at their father. "What are you going to do?" Scott asked.

Murdoch didn't say anything. He turned and walked back into the saloon. Gunfighters started stepping out of his way. It wasn't long before they heard Murdoch bellow something about his son and then heard glass breaking. The next thing they knew a battered and unconscious bartender tumbled out the batwing doors and into the street.

Murdoch marched out of the saloon rubbing his hand. As he passed the man lying in the street, he motioned for Johnny to move ahead of him. The Lancers walked back to the hotel while Slade, Val and the gunfighters watched.

...********

The next morning came way too soon for Johnny. He'd had a restless and painful night. He kicked himself for not realizing the milk had been tampered with. He'd lain awake going over the last few weeks and knew he'd become careless. A year ago, that kind of carelessness would have gotten him killed.

He'd returned to the hotel, walking behind his father, not believing the old man had stomped back inside the saloon and beaten up the bartender. He'd stood there with his mouth open. The look on Slade's face had been priceless. If he hadn't been hurting so bad at that moment, he would have laughed.

It had taken a few hours for the effects of the milk to pass. When it did, Johnny was left feeling weak and exhausted. His stomach hurt worse than it had in days. He could feel the stomach muscle tear as he'd retched.

Scott had wanted him to take a dose of laudanum. He refused it. Johnny was mad at himself. Pain was an old friend that reminded him that he needed to start relying on his own instincts again.

He was awake well before he needed to be. Of course, if he was awake, he wanted Scott to be awake too.

By 5:00 Johnny was already standing in front of the hotel. His saddlebags were in the wagon. He asked Bonner to have a horse saddled for him.

By 5:30 everyone was mounted and riding west.

The next two hours were quiet as the men rode along. They seemed to be making good time. The only sounds were that of the wagon and the horses.

As the sun rose so did the heat. All too soon it was evident to Johnny he wasn't going to be able to stay in the saddle by himself. Johnny and Scott fell behind the wagon and most of the gunfighters.

"Boston, can I ride with you for a while?" Johnny asked as he pulled up beside his brother.

Scott stopped while Johnny dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Hayes. It was the first real look he'd gotten of Johnny that morning. His brother was pale, except for the slight flush in his cheeks.

"Damn," he thought.

"Hurting?" Scott asked as he helped Johnny up in the saddle in front of him.

"Some," Johnny responded as he settled in, "mostly tired. Having a hard time keeping my eyes open."

"You didn't sleep last night. I should know because you kept me awake," Scott put an arm around Johnny's chest. "Lean back and rest," he reached up and pulled Johnny's head back against his chest. One touch told him that a fever was beginning.

...********

Slade was mad. He was mad at Madrid. Mad at Murdoch. Most of all, he was mad at himself.

He'd started getting angry the day before when he was anxious to get out of Phoenix. He was already in a bad temper when he'd gone for the meeting at the hotel with Murdoch. He'd expected to be in control of the meeting, and he was, for a while.

Somehow over the last week, he'd started thinking of Madrid as a sick kid. The sight of John Madrid dressed and wearing his rig had jolted him back to the reality that he was dealing with one of the most dangerous men he'd ever known.

The meeting had gone well enough. However, it was when Madrid, in front of Bonner, had led the way out of the room and down the stairs that things started to unravel.

Slade was used to leading the way. It wasn't until they were at the bottom of the stairs that he'd been able to pass Madrid.

He shook his head thinking of the events in the saloon. The idiot bartender at first denying Madrid a drink. Slade had hesitated before interfering. He'd decided that the bartender needed to know who he was dealing with and it was apparent Madrid wasn't going to throw his own name out there. Then Madrid had ordered milk of all things. Slade remembered lowering his head and smiling.

Things had gone wrong quickly. Madrid had only taken one or two long drinks of the milk before he'd become quiet. Slade was almost relieved when Madrid announced he needed some air and walked out of the saloon with Scott following him.

When Scott came back into the saloon and grabbed Stewart's arm, he should have realized something wasn't right. It wasn't until Scott stormed back to the table and picked up the glass of milk that Slade knew something was wrong. How could he have missed it? He'd noticed the bartender's smirk as he sat the glass down in front of Madrid and he'd dismissed it.

He was dumbfounded when the bartender had admitted he'd tampered with the milk because Madrid was a half-breed.

The final straw of the day had come when Murdoch Lancer had advanced on the saloon and beat the bartender senseless. It was something he should have done himself.

As he watched Murdoch stalking back to the hotel with Madrid and Scott following, he'd thought, "What the hell does this family need me for?"

Slade saddled his horse and had ridden out of town until he'd found a lone cactus. He spent the next 20 minutes shooting it apart. Finally, he'd relieved enough of his tension to return to town. He hadn't gone back up to check on Madrid after that.

He was again angered that morning when Madrid had bypassed him and told Bonner to saddle him a horse.

Now, he'd spent the better part of the morning coming to terms with the situation. He knew he was going to have to either confront Madrid or have a talk with Murdoch.

Every time Slade had looked back that morning, he'd seen Madrid riding alone. The last time he looked, it appeared Madrid and his brother were lagging further behind the group.

They rode for another hour before Slade looked behind him. For the first time, he saw that Madrid was once again riding double with Scott. Looking at the sun, he decided it was time for a rest. He held up his hand and yelled out, "We're gonna' take 30 minutes."

Slade dismounted and loosened his cinch. He walked back to Scott just as Madrid was being helped out of the saddle. Slade didn't say anything; he just looked at Madrid.

He turned to Murdoch. "Mr. Lancer, we're gonna' ride another three hours and then set up a day camp."

"That will be fine, Mr. Slade," Murdoch nodded. He took the canteen off his saddle and took a drink. "How long will we be in day camp?"

"Five or six hours," Slade responded taking off his hat and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Just need to get us by the hottest part of the day."

"Whatever you feel we need to do," Murdoch said before turning and walking back to his sons.

Murdoch handed the canteen to Johnny who was lowering himself next to the wagon wheel.

"Water?" Murdoch asked, squatting down next to Johnny. He could see the flushed cheeks and noticed Johnny was breathing hard.

"Thanks," Johnny took the canteen and a long drink before handing it back to his father.

"We're going to go on another three hours before setting up a day camp," Murdoch said as he reached out and brushed Johnny's forehead. "Are you alright with that?"

Val had moved over next to them and Murdoch handed him the canteen. Val took a drink and gave the canteen back.

"I'm fine," Johnny answered closing his eyes.

Val looked at Scott and Murdoch. They all knew that when Johnny said he was 'fine' that he wasn't.

"Murdoch. Scott. Can I have a minute with Johnny alone?" Val asked.

Both men nodded and walked away. Val sat down next to Johnny putting his back against the same wagon wheel.

"Spit it out," Johnny said as he turned his head and looked at Val.

"Johnny, we need to talk about what happened yesterday," Val drawled.

"Yesterday? What do you mean? The saloon?" Johnny asked knowing what Val wanted to talk about.

"You know good and well what I'm talking about. You and Slade," Val's voice had become stern.

"Val...," Johnny had started to say.

"Johnny, you need to make it right with Slade. You know what you did when you walked out of that room. You know you should have waited for Slade to take the lead. He's in charge this time, not you. You can't be showing off in front of these men. They need to know Slade's in charge," Val took a breath.

Johnny let his head lean back against the wheel, his eyes closed. "I know. I was just feeling better yesterday than I had in weeks. Almost felt like my old self," Johnny sighed. "I'll talk to him."

Val didn't say anything else as he got up and walked back to his horse.

Johnny sat there a few minutes and then forced himself up. He coughed a couple of times as he leaned against the wheel. Looking around, he saw Slade standing with a few of the men. Setting his hat straight on his head, Johnny sauntered over to Slade.

"Slade," Johnny drawled, "you got a minute?"

Slade had seen Val talking to Madrid. He stiffened his back as Madrid approached.

"What do you need, Madrid?" Slade's asked in a flat voice.

Johnny looked at the men standing around and gave them one of his best Madrid glares. They lowered their heads and moved away.

"About yesterday," Johnny looked at the ground.

"What about yesterday?" Slade hissed.

Johnny's head shot up. He knew Slade was pissed. The man hadn't spoken to him once since they had left the saloon.

Johnny took a deep breath. "Yeah, yesterday. I was out of line. I'm sorry," Johnny never liked it when he had to tell someone he was sorry. "I know you're mad and have a right to be. Yesterday was the first time in weeks I wasn't ... well that I was feeling like my old self. I'm used to running the show not taking orders, well anyone's orders other than my old man's. I was feeling cocky. It's your show, Slade. I won't be a problem."

"You're damn right I'm mad. Madrid, I can't have my authority challenged in front of these men," Slade spat out the words.

"You won't," Johnny assured him. "I'll make sure they know who's in charge and it ain't me, not this time. If someone had pulled that stunt on me, I'd have walked away from the job and told them where to stuff it. I appreciate you staying with Murdoch... with all of us."

Slade knew it was hard for Madrid to apologize.

Madrid had been right; he'd given thought to walking away from the job yesterday.

"Guess we got us an understanding then," Slade smiled as he reached out his right hand. Johnny looked surprised.

Johnny took his hand off the butt of his gun and shook Slade's hand. It wasn't often a gunfighter would surrender his gun hand to anyone, let alone another gunfighter. The gesture wasn't missed by the other men watching.

Slade could feel the extra warmth in young gunfighter's hand. Looking closely at the young man's face, he could tell Madrid had a fever.

"You ready to go?" Slade asked looking away.

"Sure," Johnny answered as he turned and walked back toward Scott.

Scott was holding a cup. "Johnny you need to drink some more water," he said as he handed the cup to his brother.

Johnny looked at the liquid in the cup. "Just water?" he asked.

Scott hesitated. "No, not just water. I put some laudanum in it. Not a full dose, just something to take the edge off."

Johnny thought about it a few seconds and then downed the water.

...********

Johnny thought they would never stop for the day camp. The little bit of laudanum Scott had given him hadn't come close to stopping the pain in his stomach, his back was hurting from leaning against Scott, and he seemed to have developed a cough.

Finally, Slade called a halt. He'd sent two men ahead to find a suitable place to make camp. They had found a large outcropping of rocks and had started a fire. He was pleased to see that they had gotten a pot of coffee going.

"We'll be here until late this afternoon," Slade yelled out. "Take care of the horses and get some rest. Anderson and Williams, you're in charge of cooking today."

Slade looked toward Madrid.

Scott was still mounted with Johnny in front of him. Val was standing next to the horse helping the young gunfighter off. Johnny's feet touched the ground, and he leaned into Val.

"Need to sit down," Johnny whispered just loud enough for Val to hear. Val nodded and helped him to the shade of the rocks, lowering him to the ground.

"I'll get something for you to eat and some tea," Scott said as he took his bedroll off of the horse and unrolled it next to the rock.

"Just the tea for now," Johnny coughed. "Ain't hungry."

Murdoch had moved over and sat next to Johnny. He let his shoulder brush against his son's.

Johnny looked at his father and smiled. He laid his head over and let it rest on his father's shoulder. The next thing Johnny knew Scott was waking him to drink the tea. He had a cup of broth with him as well. Johnny drank both.

"Go ahead and lie down, son," Murdoch said as watched his son stretch out on the bedroll. He was almost asleep himself when he heard a sharp moan escape Johnny's lips and watched as pain etched his face.

The worried father was at a loss as to what to do. Reaching over, he stroked the top of his son's head and felt some pleasure when Johnny moved into his hand.

The mid-day heat had started to pass when Murdoch became aware that the camp was stirring. He looked at the sky to the west. It didn't often rain in the Arizona desert, but it seemed like they were going to get some.

Val and Scott were now sitting in front of Murdoch, both watching Johnny sleep.

Murdoch looked down at his son and back at Val. "He's going to be riding in the wagon the rest of the day."

Val and Scott nodded and stood up. They began fixing a tarp for the wagon. They had also seen the clouds building in the west. They knew that the cover would keep the sun off Johnny as well as the rain that appeared to be coming.

Slade had seen Val and Scott putting the cover on the wagon. He walked over to Murdoch and looked down to see the man's hand resting on Madrid's head.

"He gonna' be able to travel?" Slade asked.

"Yes, he'll be riding in the wagon. He has a fever again," Murdoch answered and gently brushed his hand across Johnny's cheek.

"Thought that after what Doc Doyle did, he wouldn't be having any more problems," Slade drawled and squatted down.

"His back is looking better. I think it's his stomach. Throwing up yesterday may have caused some more damage," Murdoch lifted his hand from Johnny and started pushing himself off the ground.

Slade stood up and offered a hand to Murdoch.

"That incident with the milk shouldn't have happened. I should have been paying closer attention," Slade said as Murdoch got to his feet.

"It wasn't your fault, Mr. Slade. We all should have been paying closer attention," Murdoch looked at the gunfighter. "Are we almost ready to go?"

"Yeah," Slade answered. "You gonna' wake him up?"

"If you'll help me lift him," Murdoch bent down and with Slade's help lifted his son into his arms like a small child.

Murdoch walked over to the wagon and handed the sleeping man to Val and Scott.

The first raindrops started to fall as they began moving west again. The rain cooled the air as the riders put on coats and slickers. Scott jumped into the back of the wagon and put a blanket over his brother as lightning lit the sky.

...********

Bart Hanson and the five men riding with him had crossed the border five days ago. There had been a lot of discussion among them whether they were going to go after the reward or not. They finally decided the reward offered for Madrid was too good to pass up.

They had been riding steadily for days. They stopped in Tucson long enough to find out that Madrid had been there and that he had at least 13 men with him. They'd left Tucson knowing they were at least ten days behind them.

They tied up at the hitching post outside the saloon in Phoenix. Looking around, they saw a few people watching them as they entered the saloon doors.

All six men walked up to the bar and ordered beers. Bart looked at the bartender. "We're looking for someone. He might have been through here a week or so ago."

"Who you looking for?" the bartender asked.

"A gunfighter by the name of Madrid. Have you seen him around here?" Bart asked.

"Madrid? Yeah, I've seen him. He was here," the bartender smiled. "He left town three days ago. Heard them say they were going to Fort Tyson."

"Them? How many were with him?" Bart asked sipping his beer.

"Eleven or twelve gunfighters. One of them was Jack Slade. There was also some man who said he was Madrid's father and another man I heard was his brother," the bartender answered rubbing his chin.

"His father and brother?" Bart asked.

"I know his father was with them. He gave me this," the bartender pointed to his black eye.

"You say they left three days ago. I figured they would be further along," Bart said.

"They laid over here for four days. Didn't even see Madrid until the last day they were here. He went to see the Doc over at the fort. Heard some of them talking. Madrid was hurt or something," the bartender said, wiping the bar down.

"He feeling better when they left?" Bart asked.

"Not sure. Madrid might have been feeling better, and then again, he may have still been having some problems," the bartender smirked.

The man looked at his companions. "We might as well rest here tonight and head west in the morning."

"Bart, are you sure we want to try and go after Madrid? It was risky enough going up against Madrid and trying to bring him back alive. You heard what the bartender said. Jack Slade is with him," a second man said. "I don't see any way we can get to Madrid with that many men around him."

"We'll get him. We'll just have to find the right time and the right place," Bart smiled as he took another sip of his beer.

...********

Johnny didn't remember much about the rest of that first day. He did remember the rain beating down on the cover over the wagon and the lightning that lit up the darkening sky. It rained the rest of the day and into the night.

The wet conditions didn't seem to help his cough or the fever that had started.

The next day he remembered being moved in and out of the wagon several times. He ate when told and slept when told. He knew his fever had broken sometime during that first night after the rain had ended.

It was the third morning out of Phoenix when he opened his eyes and was able to focus for the first time in days. He raised his head and looked around. Two campfires were going. Murdoch and Scott were lying on either side of him. Val was stretched out near his head.

Johnny pushed himself up, without waking the others, and walked over to the fire taking his blanket with him. Slade was sitting next to the fire with a cup of coffee in his hand. He reached for his gun when Johnny moved to sit down.

Slade looked at Madrid and drawled, "You feeling better?"

"Yeah," Johnny nodded.

"Madrid, you look like hell," Slade grinned.

"Bet I do," Johnny smiled back. "Lost track of time. How far are we from Fort Tyson?"

"We've been on the trail two days now, still got three or four to go. You want some coffee or something to eat?" Slade picked up a cup and filled it with coffee handing it to Madrid.

Johnny took the cup and sipped it, "Any problems? I mean except me."

"You ain't been no problem for me," Slade answered. "Had your family worried some."

"I sure will be glad when I get back to some kind of normal," Johnny pulled the blanket around him. He was sub-consciously flexing the fingers on his right hand. "Don't think I've ever felt this bad, for this long."

"You'll get there," Slade said as he poked the fire. He watched Madrid's right-hand opening and closing. "You know I was thinking this morning that it's been a while since you used that gun of yours. When you're feeling up to it, I think it would be a good idea for you to practice. I'd hate to think we've gone through all of this just to have someone call you out and you not be ready."

Johnny looked at Slade a little surprised. He'd just been sitting there thinking the same thing and wondering how he was going to broach the subject.

"I think that's a good idea," Johnny answered pulling his right arm free of the blanket. He flexed the fingers on his right hand and rubbed the palm of his hand. His fingers were tight and his wrist stiff. "I need to loosen up my hand and arm. Didn't have much trouble taking down Booth, but I was a lot slower than normal. He shouldn't have gotten a shot off."

Slade thought about the gunfight in Tucson with Booth. He'd been amazed at Madrid's speed even as weak as he was. If the man said he was a lot slower than usual, he couldn't imagine how fast the gunhawk was when he was up to strength.

"We are going to be moving out in about an hour," Slade took a sip of his coffee. "Got some stew if you want some. Got to be better than that broth your brother's been pouring down you."

Johnny laughed, "Let me give it a try." He took a plate of stew that Slade offered. He hadn't had much solid food since before the prison. That was what now... he couldn't remember how many days it had been. "Slade, how long has it been since we crossed the border?" He took a bit of the stew thinking it tasted pretty good.

Slade looked at him. "Well, I figure we left Nogales 12 days ago. Crossed the border two days before that so 14 days now."

"14 days," Johnny took another bit of the stew. "Any idea how many days before that we got out of that prison?"

"Don't rightly know," Slade thought for a moment. "Best as I can remember Val said it was about 9 or 10 days before we crossed the border."

"Over three weeks then," Johnny stopped the spoon halfway to his mouth. "Seems like a lifetime ago."

Slade didn't say anything.

Johnny took another bit of the stew and then sat the plate down. He wasn't hungry anymore. He'd been in pain for the more than three weeks.

"More?" Slade asked motioning to the plate.

"No, thanks anyway," Johnny said as he handed the plate back to Slade. He pushed up from the ground and stood to look back toward his father. "I think I'll get cleaned up before we move out."

Scott had rolled over only to find Johnny was gone. Sitting up, he looked around anxiously. He relaxed when he saw Johnny sitting next to the fire talking to Slade.

Slade handed a plate to Johnny. He was glad to see his brother was eating something. When he saw Johnny suddenly sit the plate down and stand up, Scott was on his feet.

"Are you alright?" Scott asked as Johnny came closer.

"I'm alright," Johnny answered as Scott took his arm. "Slade says we're moving out soon. Thought I'd clean up and shave."

Scott smiled. "You are starting to smell pretty bad, and I really would like to see that beard go again."

"You mean I've been keeping you warm again," Johnny laughed and gently slapped Scott in the stomach.

"You could say that," Scott put an arm around Johnny.

...********

Johnny started the day once again riding in the wagon. After the day camp, he'd moved to ride double with Scott.

It was late afternoon when he first saw the dust cloud off to the north. He watched it for some time before asking Scott to move up closer to Slade.

"Slade," Johnny said as he leaned forward.

Slade stopped and turned in the saddle. "Madrid?"

"You see the dust off to the right?" Johnny pointed to the horizon.

"Saw it. Been watching it for a couple of hours," Slade replied.

Johnny looked at the dust cloud once more and then at Slade, "Just tell me how you want to play it."

Slade nodded.

Val and Murdoch had ridden up beside Scott. They were all watching the dust cloud. "Who do you think it is?" Murdoch asked.

"Don't know," Johnny answered. "Could be Apache. Could be someone out of Mexico. We'll have to wait for them to make their move."

They rode in silence the rest of the afternoon.

As he'd done every day, Slade had sent two riders ahead to locate a place for the night. The camp was ready for them when they arrived.

...********

It was the first night since they had started home, that Johnny sat with everyone near the fire. Gunfighters were swapping stories and laughing.

Johnny had been quiet and enjoyed listening. He could tell Scott and Murdoch were also enjoying the stories. It reminded him of the days when he and Val had ridden together.

"I got a story for you fellows," Val spoke up, making himself comfortable. "Well it's a story about how Johnny single-handedly ended a range war without anyone firing one shot," Val said as murmurs came up around the campfire.

Johnny had been lying down and propped up on his elbow. Once Johnny heard what Val said he scooted into a sitting position.

Val held up one hand and said, "Now hold on, I know it's hard to believe, but let me tell you."

"Val," Johnny protested, speaking up for the first time that night, "no one wants to hear that story."

"Go on, Val," Murdoch was himself getting comfortable. He was anxious to hear about his son's early life.

Val smiled, "Well, it was right on four years ago. Johnny and me rode into Las Cruces looking for work. Word had spread that there was gonna' be a range war and both sides were hiring guns.

Before signing up on a job, Johnny and I would usually size up both sides to see which one we wanted to work for.

As we were riding into town, Johnny spotted this real pretty girl walking along the boardwalk. She had long blond hair and blue eyes.

Johnny was all of maybe 14 at the time and was smitten with just about anything in skirts," Val was smiling and looked over at Johnny.

"You have to understand a couple of things about Johnny at 14. First off, he was as fast as greased lightning with that gun of his, but the boy was all arms and legs. Lordy, I think he could trip over his own shadow back then, and I think he probably did a time or two."

"VAL!" Johnny shouted. Everyone was laughing.

"There was another thing. Johnny's voice was starting to change. You know cracking and changing pitch. Got right embarrassing at times when he was trying to use that famous Madrid drawl on men," Val grinned.

There was another round of laughter. Scott looked at his brother wishing he'd known him at that age. Johnny smiled and lowered his head, blushing. Scott poked him in the arm.

"Val, you don't have to tell this story," Johnny drawled and blushed again. "It's not really a good one."

"No, go ahead, Val, I'd like to hear about my little brother at that age. Does anyone else want to hear the rest of the story?" Scott laughed and looked around the campfire. There was a flurry of voices agreeing that Val should continue.

"So where was I... oh, well Johnny had seen the girl, and that's all he could talk about for the next hour. We went to the saloon for something to drink." He looked at Murdoch and flinched, "Of course, him only being 14, I only let him drink milk or sarsaparilla when we were in a saloon."

Everyone laughed.

"I'm sure you did," Murdoch laughed.

Johnny snorted and ducked his head. "Yeah right."

"With a tequila chaser?" Scott asked. Johnny popped his brother across the stomach laughing.

Val cleared his throat and shook his head, "So, when we came out of the saloon Johnny was fooling around and started walking backward along the boardwalk.

Lordy, in those days, him walking forward could be a hazard, but walking backward was just asking for disaster. He didn't see the same blond girl coming out of the dress shop just down the street. She didn't see him 'cause she had her arms full of boxes.

By the time I called out for him to look out, he'd backed right into her. Next thing I know the girl is on the ground and Johnny is on top of her. I don't know how it happened, but somehow Johnny gets turned over, and now they are laying face to face. Them boxes are spread all over the place.

Johnny's gun belt got turned around and was in front of him. So here they are, laying on the boardwalk and that girls skirt is above her knees. After she got over the shock of being on the ground and having a stranger face down on top of her, well that girl plum went loco.

She started screaming and Lordy if Johnny didn't just up and kiss the gal. I think she was stunned. Hell, I know she was stunned. That didn't last long 'cause the next thing I know she started screaming again and punching him.

Now Johnny is thinking kissing her wasn't such a good idea after all. Johnny was trying to get off of her, but every time he tried to push himself up to get off of her, she would grab hold of him and pull him back down and start hitting on him again. By this time his spurs had got caught up in her petticoats."

Everyone was laughing. The more everyone laughed, the more Johnny blushed.

"I knew better than to get in the middle of it, so I just stood back against the building with my arms crossed waiting for him to break free.

Now, I have to admit Johnny knew he was probably wrong in kissing her and was trying to get up off of her, but the third time she pulled him back down ...well, damn, if he didn't kiss her again.

This time she just laid there and looked up at him with her wide blue eyes looking into his big blue eyes."

Everyone laughed harder. Scott was leaning over and was almost rolling on the ground. Murdoch couldn't contain himself and was trying hard not to lose it completely. Even Slade had a grin on his face.

"Val!" Johnny shook his head and blushed some more. He'd now buried his face in his hands.

"Go on, Val," Scott caught his breath and put an arm around his brother pulling him closer to him.

Val cleared his throat again, "Well, there they were looking into each other's eyes when the next thing I knew she'd balled a fist and hit him upside the head. See she just figured out she was getting poked by something hard. It was Johnny's gun, but she didn't know any better.

That's when I figured I'd better get him off of her and get out of there before the law showed up. I reached down and picked him up by his belt and hauled away. Heck, don't figure he weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet back then.

He looked pretty poorly by the time I got him back to our room cause that girl got in a couple more punches before I got him clear of her. He was bleeding from his lip and had this knot on the side of his head. Still, he had a little grin on his face for the rest of the day," Val looked at Johnny and grinned.

Now everyone was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down their faces. Val composed himself and continued with the story.

"The next day we rode out to the ranch of the man we figure we want to work for. The top gun there was sizing us up, and when he hears the name Madrid, he wants to hire us right away. He took us up to the ranch house to introduce us to the owner.

The other guns that were working for the man had been watching and listening. They were real happy when they heard they were going to have Johnny Madrid on their side. Well, we thought everything was going real good.

That's when the door to the ranch house opens and you who comes walking out... yep... it was that pretty little blonde girl from town.

She took one look at Johnny and pulled her Pa aside. We could tell things weren't going too good by the way she was yelling and waving her arms. Her Pa turned ten shades of red and started cursing and grabbed for his gun.

Well, I grabbed Johnny's arm and started pulling him back toward the horses. Damn, if the boy didn't trip over his own feet and go flat on his backside just as the owner told the top gun to get us off his property and never come back. I picked Johnny up and got him on his horse, and we got out of there.

The next day we go to the other rancher and try to hire on. Turns out he had two daughters and had heard what had happened in town. He told Johnny he didn't want him anywhere near his girls.

Well, it turns out we didn't get hired on by either side."

"So how did he stop the range war?" Bonner asked, trying to catch his breath and wiping tears from his eyes.

"Wouldn't you know it, those two ranchers started talking about their daughters and how they didn't want no gunfighters, especially Johnny, around them. They settled the matter between themselves and fired all the guns they'd hired."

"Not sure I believe that, Val," Stewart laughed.

Val laughed and turned to Slade, "Well, Slade; you were the top gun there, is that how it happened?"

Everyone was looking at Slade. "Hell, yes that's how it happened. Never seen anything like it. Didn't get paid a penny either. I was pissed off at you for a long time after that. That rancher was gonna' pay some good money for that job."

"Sorry about that," Johnny replied dipping his head.

"Oh, don't worry. I figure I'm getting enough on this job to make up for it," Slade grinned.

Johnny looked at the gunfighter, and his eyes narrowed. He still didn't know how much his father and brother were paying Slade for 'this job.'

"So was losing the job worth kissing the girl twice," Scott asked with a grin on his face.

Johnny had his head down and looked up with a blush and a boyish grin on his face," Yeah... yeah it was. She sure was pretty, and she was the first girl I ever kissed."

Everyone was soon laughing again.

Slade remembered the job. He'd heard what set the rancher's daughter off. He remembered the girl coming back to the ranch all upset. She said some boy had attacked her and kissed her. The boss was ready for the whole crew to go into town and teach the boy a lesson.

He also remembered the day Crawford and Madrid had ridden into the ranch. Madrid looked like a wet behind the ears skinny kid. His appearance was deceiving. Slade had known of Madrid's reputation. Even at 14, Johnny Madrid was a legend and known to be a fast and dangerous gun.

Yes, he'd wanted to hire Madrid that day. No one in their right mind would have turned down the opportunity of hiring him. He'd argued with the rancher and told him he was making a mistake letting Madrid go, but the rancher wouldn't hear a word of it.

Watching the boy blush with the telling of the story, he didn't have the heart to tell him that the rancher's daughter had told her daddy that the boy that had kissed her was a filthy Mexican half- breed.

...********

The sound of gunfire woke the camp the next day. Men were rolling out of bedrolls and reaching for their guns.

Scott rolled over to see Johnny gone and was on his feet in seconds. Murdoch and Val were beside him as they ran toward the sound of the gunfire.

Another shot rang out.

Murdoch, Scott, Val and ten gunfighters came to a halt only to see Slade and Johnny facing off with a small cactus. They were taking turns shooting at it.

Scott relaxed and watched for a few minutes. Johnny was flexing his right arm and hand. He was doing slow draws, aim, and fire.

Scott yelled out, "You could have given us some warning."

Johnny and Slade turned around to see 13 heavily armed men standing behind them. "Sorry, just wanted to get some practice in before we start today," Johnny said as he holstered his gun.

"I want everyone to do some practicing," Slade said as he holstered his gun. "We're going to be running into trouble today or tomorrow for sure. I want everyone to be ready." He started back to camp. "We're moving out in 30 minutes."

Johnny turned and walked over to Scott. He put an arm around his brother's neck and pulled him close. "Sorry I woke you."

"Woke me? Try scared the hell out of me," Scott pulled away. "Johnny when I heard gunfire and you were gone..., well, just don't do that again."

"I won't," Johnny's smile had faded. "Sorry, I scared you."

A noticeably mad Scott walked away leaving Johnny standing alone.

Johnny walked up to Slade, "Slade, can you have one of the men saddle a horse for me? I'm going to ride by myself today," Johnny said as he looked across the camp at his brother.

Slade just nodded. He'd seen the exchange between the two brothers and saw that Scott was not too happy with his brother.

Johnny rode behind Scott and Murdoch. Val had moved to the front next to Slade. The brothers hadn't spoken since their exchange that morning.

Johnny, who had started the morning feeling better than he had in weeks, was now feeling depressed. He was sorry he hadn't woken Scott up before going off to practice with Slade.

He'd spent too many years with no one in his life. He now had a father and a brother. He felt closer to his brother than he ever thought possible and he didn't like having Scott mad at him.

Johnny's attention was pulled to the north. The dust cloud seemed to be steadily moving west and always in the same direction they were going. He turned in the saddle to look behind them. Seeing a faint dust cloud off in the distance, he spurred the horse forward and galloped toward Slade.

Scott had been riding quietly next to Murdoch the entire morning. He could feel Johnny's eyes on his back. He was angry with his brother, and his feelings were hurt. How could Johnny have scared them like that this morning? Didn't he realize what they would have thought when they found him missing?

Scott's heart leaped as he watched Johnny gallop by. He wanted to reach out and pull him back. Was his fool brother trying to hurt himself again? He watched Johnny pull up beside Slade and point back. Slade turned in the saddle and cursed.

Scott turned to see what they were looking at. Seeing the dust cloud, he reached across and tapped Murdoch's arm and pointed behind them.

"I believe we have more company," Scott said.

...********

Bart Hanson and the five men that rode with him were making good time. They'd found the remains of several campfires as they made their way west. That morning they had found a campfire that was still warm.

Seeing a dust cloud ahead of him, Hanson knew he wasn't far behind Madrid. He decided to slow down and keep pace with the gunfighters. He would wait until they stopped before deciding what to do next.

Hanson was so intent on watching the party in front of him that he missed seeing the dust cloud off to his right.

...********

Johnny returned to the rear of the group after talking to Slade. He'd glanced at Scott as he rode by. The look on Scott's face told him his brother was still angry.

Slade decided to keep up their normal routine, not wanting to tire the horses unnecessarily.

After stopping for day camp, Johnny went to Slade and told him he was going to walk off a piece and practice. Slade nodded, sending Bonner and Stewart with him.

Johnny walked over to Murdoch. "I'm going to practice," he told his father in a voice loud enough that Scott could hear.

Scott didn't look at his brother. Johnny shrugged and turned away. Finding a spot about 20 yards from camp with a cactus, Johnny began his practice routine.

Slowly, Slade and the others moved closer to watch the practice.

No matter how many times Johnny practiced, he always had the same routine, starting with the basics and working up to the draw and fire.

Practicing a slow draw was always first. Johnny drew in smooth motions, for control not for speed.

Next came the draw for speed. He repeated the movement over and over until he felt comfortable.

Now it was time to practice accuracy. Johnny drew and fired letting his instincts take over. He tried to relax his shoulders and took a slow breath. He drew and fired, fanning the hammer of his gun as he did. Hitting 6 out of 6 of his targets produced the satisfaction he'd wanted.

Johnny was aware the others were watching him. He stretched his arm and shoulder. When he rotated his upper body, he felt the pull in his back.

Murdoch and Val were standing to the side watching Johnny's practice.

"How does he look, Val?" Murdoch asked never taking his eyes off his son.

"He's still a little stiff, and he needs to relax his shoulders," Val answered.

As if hearing what Val said, Johnny tried to relax his shoulders. He thought about what he needed to do. A smile crossed Johnny's face as in one fluid movement he crouched down, drew, leveled, fired, and returned the gun to his holster.

He did the same thing again, this time a little faster.

"He's just showing off now," Val smiled turning to Murdoch.

Johnny had decided it was time to show these men just exactly who Johnny Madrid was.

He cleared his mind, dug deep inside himself, and found his old friend Madrid. A smile crossed his face, and this time the entire movement was a blur.

Johnny felt a sharp pain across his stomach and knew it was time to stop. He turned to see the faces of the men standing behind him. There was only one face he wanted to see. His eyes met Scott's. He felt all the tension leave him as his brother smiled at him.

Scott had been watching along with the others as Johnny practiced. He was always amazed at the skill his little brother had with a gun. Johnny turned and looked at him. He couldn't stay mad.

"Well?" Scott asked as Johnny walked toward him. He noted he was rubbing his stomach.

Johnny shook his head. "Still a little stiff. I'll get faster once I loosen up," Johnny said as he and Scott walked by the others.

Slade watched as Madrid went through his routine. He saw how steadily his speed had increased. He heard the comment Madrid made about getting faster once he loosened up. Slade shook his head. The last draw and fire Madrid made was nothing more than a blur.

Johnny and Scott walked over to Murdoch and Val.

"You looked like you were having fun," Val smiled at Johnny. "Still stiff? You having problems relaxing your shoulder?"

"Yeah," Johnny agreed, "Back is still pulling." He rubbed his stomach.

"What about your stomach?" Murdoch asked watching Johnny.

"Just a little pain," Johnny answered.

"That's what you get for showing off," Val laughed. "Shouldn't be showing these fellows everything you've got anyway."

"What makes you think I showed them everything?" Johnny drawled with a smile.

"Well, we need to get out of the sun and rest," Murdoch put an arm around Johnny's shoulders. He reached over and put his other arm around Scott. Together they walked back to camp.

Johnny knew he'd overdone it. Between the morning on horseback and straining himself during practice, he was worn out. He stretched out and was asleep in moments.

...********

All too soon it was time to go. Johnny pushed himself up looking both north and east. Whoever was following them had also stopped.

Johnny had to decide what he was going to do. He didn't feel like riding alone, but he didn't want to be caught in the wagon if the Apache attacked. He certainly didn't want to be riding double with Scott if something happened. He decided he would stay on horseback by himself.

He'd started toward his horse when he heard the sound of horses approaching. He yelled out, "Riders coming in."

Slade jumped to his feet and turned to look at Madrid. Johnny pointed east. Whoever was following them had decided to ride in. Johnny moved his horse next to Scott's and Murdoch's horses. He looked at Val.

"Murdoch, you stay in the middle of everyone. Let Slade handle the talking," Val said looking at Johnny.

Johnny nodded. He held his place as the riders came closer.

Slade motioned for his men to spread out. He looked over to see Madrid slowly moving away from his father and brother.

"Hello the camp," Bart Hanson yelled out as he and his men rode closer to camp.

"That's close enough, mister," Slade yelled back.

The riders came to a stop.

"What'da you want?" Slade drawled.

"We're heading for Fort Tyson. Thought we might join up with you. We saw the dust cloud off to the north. Figure they're Apache," Hanson answered.

Slade lowered his head and kicked the dirt. It didn't feel right turning the men away with Apache that close, but he didn't want strangers riding with them.

"What's your name, mister. You've been following us for some time now," Slade said. "Why?"

"Name's Bart Hanson. We figured if we stayed close at least we'd have a chance if they attacked us. Sorry if we made you nervous," Hanson was smiling as he looked around the camp. He'd never seen Madrid and had no idea what he looked like.

The bartender in Phoenix had told Hanson that Madrid's father and brother were traveling with him. He spotted a tall older man he figured was Madrid's Pa. The man standing next to him was blonde. Hanson knew Madrid was part Mex. Didn't figure that to be his brother. He looked at the other men and still couldn't figure out which one was Madrid.

Slade quickly glanced again at Madrid. He could see the man wasn't happy.

"Hanson, I'll tell you," Slade said, "we don't feel too comfortable having strangers ride up on us out here. You can follow behind us if you want or move on ahead. Just don't try to come into camp unless we're under attack."

Slade glanced back at Madrid. He saw a slight smile on the man's face.

Hanson thought a moment and couldn't think of an argument. Finally, he answered, "No problem. We'll stay back here. Say, you fellows' gunfighters?"

"And if we are?" Slade shot back.

"Well if you are, then we sure wouldn't mind having you around if the Apache hit us," Hanson smiled.

Slade didn't smile back. "Just make sure you're out of rifle range, and we'll get along just fine."

Slade watched as the six men rode off and walked over to Murdoch.

"Mr. Lancer, I want you to start riding up front with me," Slade said coming to a stop in front of Murdoch. He glanced at Madrid. "I'd feel better if all of you ride up front from now on."

Val gave Johnny a stern look. Johnny knew all the men were watching him.

"Whatever you want, Slade. You're calling the tune here."

Slade nodded and looked around, "Let's mount up and move on. I want two men with the Lancers at all times. The rest of you will ride behind the wagon. Those men don't come any closer than they are now. Anyone sees them moving closer you yell out."

...********

They set up night camp just before the sunset. The men sat around the camp fires and talked. There didn't seem to be the same easy banter as the night before.

Johnny spread a blanket down well back from the fire. He was watching the faces of those that sat around the fire. The firelight made them easy targets.

Johnny had seen the six strangers set up camp earlier. Their fire now glowed in the distance. He filtered out the sounds of the men around their campfire and concentrated on the sounds of the desert. He heard two men slowly approaching on foot from the north. The two men got within 100 feet of the camp and stopped. Johnny heard them move away 30 minutes later heading back toward their own camp.

Murdoch and Val had already gone to bed when Scott came to sit beside him. "Johnny, you coming to bed?"

"In a few minutes," Johnny answered, "why don't you go ahead."

"Johnny," Scott hesitated, "I'm sorry about this morning."

Johnny looked at his brother. He'd been torn up inside when Scott had been mad at him that morning. "I'm sorry I worried you. I should have woken you up and let you know what I was going to do. It was stupid of me. It's ... well, I woke up feeling almost like my old self. It's been a long time since I woke up and felt like doing something, except go right back to sleep."

Scott put a hand on Johnny's shoulder and squeezed, "So, come on."

"I'm gonna' give it a few minutes. Let Murdoch get into a rhythm on his snoring before I lay down," Johnny laughed. "I'll try not to wake you when I crawl in."

Scott got up and walked over to his bedroll.

Johnny continued to lay where he was until the camp settled. He watched as Slade set the sentries and then move to his bedroll. Johnny got up and walked toward his bedroll and then silently, almost cat-like, stepped out of camp.

The moon was bright, and Johnny had no problem finding his way in the dark. He'd gone less than 40 feet when Slade stepped in front of him.

"I don't think so, Madrid. You're going back to camp, and we're," Slade waved his hand and Bonner, and Stewart walked out of the darkness, "going over and see what those men are all about."

"They had two of their men checking us out earlier," Johnny said as he looked around. "Just thought I'd do the same."

"This is our job this time, not yours. Martin, you and Gammon make sure Madrid goes back to camp and stays there," Slade turned and walked silently into the night.

Slade, Stewart, and Bonner made their way toward Hanson's camp. As the three men moved closer, they could see the men were still sitting by the fire. Slade counted all six of them.

They moved a little closer and listened.

"Did either of you find out anything when you went over there tonight?" Hanson asked throwing another piece of wood on the fire.

"Naw," one of the men said, "they were talking about a lot of things. No one mentioned Madrid."

"Did any of you see anyone who could have been Madrid?" Hanson looked around at his companions.

"Well, he's got to be there," someone spoke up. "That bartender described an older man he said was Madrid's Pa. I saw him today."

"Well, the man standing next to him wasn't no Mex or half Mex," Hanson answered. "I didn't get a good look at any of them, but I sure couldn't tell you which one them was Madrid."

"That one doing the talking? You think that was Slade?" someone else asked.

"That was Slade alright," Hanson replied. "Saw him in Amarillo once."

"How you figure we're gonna' be able to figure out which one is Madrid and get him out of there?" yet another man asked.

"Haven't figured that out yet," Hanson started grinning. "We'll get it done though. Might have to use that Pa or brother of his to draw him out. I'm gonna' get some sleep."

Slade and his men crept back across the desert to their own camp.

...********

Johnny returned to camp with Gammon and Martin flanking him. The moment he walked into camp Val walked up to him and looked him in the eyes.

"Taking a walk, amigo?" Val asked.

"Thought I might. Slade had other ideas," Johnny said as he moved to the fire and squatted down.

Murdoch and Scott moved to sit next to him while Val moved to stand behind Johnny. They waited.

An hour later Slade and the men returned to camp. Everyone was awake and waiting for them.

Murdoch and Johnny moved forward to meet them.

"What did you find out?" Murdoch asked.

Slade looked at Madrid and then back to Murdoch. He took a deep breath and let it out before speaking, "They're from Mexico. They're here for Madrid and willing to go after you or Scott to get to him. Only good news is they have no idea what Madrid looks like."

Finally, it was Johnny who turned to Slade, "So what do you want to do now?"

"I'm going to bed down," Slade said walking away, "I suggest everyone else needs to do the same. We'll deal with them tomorrow."

The gunfighters turned and followed Slade leaving Johnny standing in front of his family. Murdoch didn't say a word. He hadn't talked to Johnny since he'd been escorted back into camp. Murdoch turned and walked back to his bedroll. Val followed him leaving Scott standing with Johnny.

Johnny started to say something but was cut off by Scott who held up a hand, "No! Not this time. Don't tell me you're sorry. I know better. You aren't sorry. If Slade hadn't stopped you... well I don't want to think about it. I'm going to bed. You might want to do the same."

Scott left Johnny standing alone next to the fire. After a few minutes, Johnny followed his family to the bedrolls. Johnny eased himself into his bedroll between Scott and Murdoch. Both men had turned their backs to him. He lay on his back for more than an hour staring at the night sky.

At some point, he drifted off to sleep. Suddenly, he was awake shivering. He was cold. Colder than he ever remembered being. For the first time since the prison, he was cold, and there was no one to warm him. He realized it wasn't just his body that was cold, it was also his soul. He pulled the blanket closer and shivered. "Dios mio," he said softly.

"So much for feeling better," he thought. "Deal with it, Madrid. You decided to go off the reservation. You know this is Slade's show. How did you think they were going to react if you went out there? You were hurting today. What would have happened if you had doubled up in pain?"

He felt the cold seeping through the bedroll beneath him. He'd been sick so long now that he had no reserve strength to fight off the cold that had settled into his bones. He realized his teeth were chattering and he fought to control them. His muscles were cramping up.

Suddenly he felt a pull across his stomach, and a sharp pain followed. He took a sharp breath and fought the low moan that threatened to escape his throat.

He turned over onto his stomach and placed his arms beneath him trying to warm them. For a short while, he felt warmer. It didn't last long.

"Go sit by the fire," he thought.

He rolled over and started to push himself up off the bedroll when he felt an arm go across his chest and pull him back down. His brother was pulling him closer to him. He didn't even think about resisting. Johnny was so grateful he felt like crying.

He buried his head into his brother's chest. For a few minutes, it seemed to make a difference, but the cold still overwhelmed him. He was shivering again. An uncontrollable shaking that even Scott couldn't stop.

"Lo Siento, hermano, Lo Siento. I'd rather take a bullet than have you mad at me," Johnny whispered.

"Sshh," Scott whispered. "It'll be alright."

Johnny's breathing was short and raged, "Cold... Dios, I'm cold."

After a few minutes, he felt another blanket drop on top of him and strong hands tucking it around his back.

"What do you need?" Johnny heard Val's voice.

"I don't know," Scott was saying. "He's like ice. I can't get him to stop shaking. Maybe some of that tea the Doc gave us."

"I'll make it," Murdoch was saying. "Val lay down behind him."

Johnny felt the blanket, tucked at his back, lift and Val scooted in. After a few minutes, he heard Val's voice, "Damn boy where did this come from?"

"Here, see if you can get him to drink this," Murdoch said, kneeling and offering a cup to Scott. Scott took his arm from across Johnny and together he and Val raised him to a sitting position.

Johnny was shaking so badly he couldn't hold the cup. Scott held the cup to his brother's lips, and slowly Johnny was able to swallow the warm liquid. It felt good going down. A warmth spread through his core.

"Lay down, son," Murdoch was pushing him down.

For the first time that night he felt warm. Scott pulled him back to his chest, and he finally stopped shaking. Exhaustion finally took over. He fell asleep as Val once again moved in behind him.

As the first light of day streaked the eastern sky, Slade looked down at the four sleeping men. He'd heard them moving around during the night. He knew Madrid had had another bad night.

He was at a loss as to what to think. One minute, Madrid was a hardened gunfighter. The name alone was enough to make most men shake in their boots. One look from Madrid would send them running. If they were fool enough to call him out, then Madrid's gun was usually the last thing they saw. He was deadly with that gun. A man you didn't want to be on the wrong side of.

The next minute Madrid was an 18-year-old kid. He had a sheepish grin that made you want to smile. Slade had watched Madrid with his brother and listened to the playful banter between them.

The transition between the two personalities could happen in a wink of an eye. Right now, he was seeing the sleeping boy. Soon the boy would be waking, and he would be facing the gunfighter again. The gunfighter he was supposed to be protecting.

"Hard to protect someone that has a mind of his own," he thought.

"Damn, Madrid, let me do my job," Slade said out loud.

Slade realized Murdoch was awake and heard what he said. He moved off to the fire, he needed coffee.

Val had also heard Slade. He, like Scott and Murdoch, had been angry with Johnny the night before, but unlike the others, he should have expected Johnny to slip out. It was something Madrid would have done and had done many times in the past. There was no one better at stealth than Johnny.

He slowly moved away and got up, smiling as he watched as Johnny settled closer to Scott. Val was worried about what had happened the night before. He knew Johnny wasn't back up to full strength but was shaken by the fact that the boy still didn't even have the strength to fight off any part of the nighttime cold.

Val had heard Johnny come to bed and had fallen asleep knowing where his friend was. He didn't know how long it was before he'd been awakened with the sound of Johnny's teeth chattering. He laid a while longer listening to him toss and turn. Then he heard the sharp intake of breath and the moan.

He'd gotten up to get a blanket to throw over Johnny when he saw Scott put an arm across his brother's chest. He'd laid back down, but it wasn't long before he realized that Johnny wasn't settling. By this time Murdoch was also up.

As Val laid down next to Johnny, he remembered the little boy he'd held that night in the stable; the little boy that had cried himself to sleep in his arms. Moving closer, he felt Johnny settle into him.

Val fought back the emotions of remembering all the times he'd held the boy over the years while he recovered from bullet wounds and sickness. Now, like Murdoch, he just wanted to get him back home.

Scott listened to his father and Val as they got up. Opening his eyes, he looked at his sleeping brother. He'd been so mad at him the night before.

Scott wasn't mad anymore. He was concerned.

Yesterday had been a roller coaster ride of emotions. The sound of gunfire had awakened Scott and the others. Scott had been angry at Johnny for scaring him; however, the anger had evaporated with the events of the day.

As night fell, the anger had once again resurfaced. After Johnny had come to bed, Scott fell into a restless sleep.

The sound of his brother's teeth chattering woke him. He'd laid a long time before turning over. All his anger vanished when he saw his brother curled up with the blanket and shaking. It had taken a long time to warm Johnny up enough for him to finally sleep.

Scott got up and stretched before tucking the blanket down around Johnny's shoulders. After taking care of his morning needs, Scott walked over to the fire for a cup of coffee. He found Murdoch and Val talking with Slade.

"What happened last night?" Slade asked nodding toward the still sleeping man.

"Night Chills," Val answered trying to keep his answer short.

"Sounded like it was more than just Night Chills," Slade said.

Val looked at Murdoch. Neither man said anything more.

"How are you going to handle those men?" Murdoch asked Slade.

"We wait for them to make a move," Slade answered. "Suppose we could just go over there and shoot'em, but I don't want to commit murder. I know it's not Madrid's way either."

"No, it's not," a soft voice came from behind them. Everyone jumped, turning around to see Johnny standing within 5 feet of them. Slade had gone for his gun.

"Damn Madrid, don't do that," Slade hissed. "You know better than to sneak up on a body."

Johnny didn't say anything. He moved closer to the fire, and Scott handed him a cup of coffee.

He'd no more than taken a sip of his coffee when Tate yelled out, "Slade, Apache coming in."

...********

"Apache coming in," the words seemed to be on everyone's lips.

They looked north to see an Apache war party heading straight for them.

"Murdoch, get behind the wagon. Scott, you stay with him," Johnny yelled. Both Murdoch and Scott grabbed their rifles and moved behind the wagon.

Slade was giving orders and having the horses moved closer to the wagon. He knew the Apache were after guns, ammunition, and horses.

"Slade," Gammon called out, "Hanson and his men are coming in fast."

Slade looked up to see the six men ride in at a gallop. They jumped from their horses, spreading out around the camp and waited with everyone else for the first wave of Apache to attack. It wasn't long before shots were fired.

Johnny moved over to Slade. "Slade, no matter what happens you make sure they're alright," Johnny nodded toward Murdoch and Scott.

Slade's men were very good at their trade. Every shot they fired found a target, and they soon realized they were keeping the Indians at a distance.

Johnny tried to keep his attention split between the Indians and Hanson. He saw Hanson looking around the camp, and Johnny knew why. Hanson didn't know what he looked like.

Johnny changed position and moved up next to Hanson. Hanson watched as the kid worked his way over to him.

"You fellows got enough ammunition?" Johnny asked looking as young as he could. "If you need some just let me know. I'll get it for you."

Hanson nodded. He assumed the boy was getting ammunition for all of the gunfighters.

"Glad you're here. We need all the guns we can get," Johnny said as he shot another round toward the circling Indians.

"Yeah," Hanson said as he also fired, "glad we're here, too. Seems we got lucky. You fellows are sure handy with a gun."

Johnny smiled. "Some are better than others, but you're right. Remember, you need ammunition just call out."

Johnny got up and ran back toward the wagon, bullets hitting the ground at his heels.

Slade saw Madrid move toward Hanson and held his breath. He finally breathed a sigh of relief when Madrid made his way back to the wagon.

The Indians were starting to back off.

"Hold your fire," Slade yelled out. "Save your ammunition. Anyone hurt?"

Tate yelled out, "Stewart was hit in the arm, just a graze. It's not bad. Martin caught one in the leg. Looks like one of Hanson's men caught one in the chest. He's dead."

Hanson jumped up and walked over to his dead companion. "Well, nothing I can do," he thought, "just means we split the reward five ways instead of six."

"Everyone reload and get ready, they'll be coming again soon," Slade yelled out looking toward the wagon, making sure Murdoch and Scott were alright. Madrid was standing next to Val.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the attack was on again.

Slade's men had taken up rifles and were picking most of the Apaches off long before they got close to the camp. Johnny was lying under the wagon and shooting anyone that got close. Scott took a position near the front of the wagon.

The battle had been going on for only a few minutes when Johnny heard a cry of pain. He looked around to see Scott holding his arm. Johnny was on his feet and over to his brother in an instant.

"How bad is it?" Johnny asked as he ran to Scott's side.

"Not bad, just grazed me," Scott answered.

Johnny took a bandana and tied it around Scott's arm. He yelled for Murdoch.

Murdoch had been taking careful aim on the raiding Apache. At the same time, he tried to watch both Scott and Johnny.

Watching as Johnny had edged his way to Hanson, he'd gritted his teeth. Murdoch knew that his youngest was a magnet for trouble, but the boy always seemed to go looking for it. He half expected to see him falling with another bullet in him.

When Murdoch heard Johnny yell, he looked around to see him standing next to his brother. Seeing the blood on Scott's arm, Murdoch moved to his son's side.

"Finish wrapping it," Johnny said as he turned back to firing on the advancing Apache.

His mind on Scott, Johnny had momentarily forgotten about Hanson. He looked around trying to find the man. A movement at the end of the wagon caught his attention. Hanson had moved closer to Murdoch.

The second attack ended as quickly as it had started. Johnny was on his feet heading toward his father when he saw Hanson place a gun to Murdoch's back.

Johnny yelled for Slade. Slade's eyes followed Johnny's.

Slade cursed. He looked around to see where the rest of Hanson's men were. He found three of them near Hanson and Murdoch. A fourth man was lying dead on the ground.

"No one move," Hanson yelled out. "My men and I are going to ride out of here before they come back again. We came for Madrid. We know this is his old man. Either Madrid comes with us, or his old man does."

Johnny didn't move. He took a deep breath and waited until Murdoch's eyes met his.

Slade stood up. "Hanson, you don't have a chance. No one is taking either Madrid or his old man out of here."

"We'll see about that. Which one of you is Madrid?" Hanson asked as he looked at the gunfighters standing around him. He pushed the gun harder into Murdoch's back. Johnny watched his father flinch.

Murdoch watched his son's face and realized that Johnny Madrid now stood where Johnny Lancer stood only moments before.

Slade and the others stood by watching Madrid step forward.

Johnny took a few steps forward. "You need to get that gun out of my old man's back, Hanson," his voice was low, soft, and sent chills through those around him. "It's gonna' get you killed."

Hanson watched as the kid he'd spoken to earlier stepped forward and announced himself as Madrid.

"You're Madrid?" Hanson asked surprised registering on his face.

Johnny didn't answer.

"Drop your gun belt and come over here," Hanson said to Johnny.

A smile formed on Johnny's face. "Nope," Johnny drawled. "Not gonna' happen. Neither one of us is going anywhere with you."

"I swear, I'll kill him," Hanson hissed.

"I believe you," Johnny's eyes never left Hanson.

For the first time, Hanson was looking into the eyes of Madrid. There was no warmth, no emotion.

Johnny was thinking of the words he'd used with Molly in Nogales. He knew what he had to do and only hoped he could do it.

"Murdoch," Johnny drawled, "you trust me?"

Murdoch didn't hesitate. "Yes, John, I trust you." He wasn't sure what his son had in mind, but he knew with all his heart that he trusted him.

"Slade, just like you did it in Nogales, only this time Hanson is mine," Johnny's voice was without emotion.

"Madrid's calling the shots on this one," Slade called out. "Everyone, find yourself a target and wait for it."

"Last chance, Hanson. Drop the gun," Johnny was ready.

Hanson's eyes were darting around. He had no idea what Madrid or Slade were talking about, and he didn't know what had happened in Nogales. He did know he didn't like the sound of it. Hanson raised his gun from Murdoch's back to the back of his head.

"Murdoch," Johnny's voice had gone soft and low, "look at me. Close your eyes. Keep them closed."

Murdoch looked into his son's eyes and realized what he was going to do. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Scott had been watching the exchange between Johnny and Hanson. He'd seen the look on his brother's face. Suddenly he knew what was about to happen. Murdoch's head was no more than 10 inches from Hanson's.

"Hanson!" Johnny called out. Hanson's head snapped around to look at Johnny. Johnny drew and fired at Hanson before the man could even blink and then re-holstered his gun. Murdoch hadn't moved.

Hanson fell to the ground.

Murdoch heard the shot and felt the bullet as it had whizzed by his head. He felt Hanson fall away from him. He opened his eyes to see his son standing in front of him. Johnny's face was set in stone, and his eyes were icy cold. He looked down and saw Hanson with a bullet between his eyes.

Slade's men made quick work of the rest of Hanson's men just as Johnny knew they would.

Johnny took a deep breath. He'd gone pale. He felt sick to his stomach, and his knees were ready to buckle.

Val had been watching Johnny and walked over to stand beside him.

"Just take a deep breath, amigo," Val whispered. "He's alright."

The sound of gunfire and Indians yelping brought everyone out of the momentary trance they were in.

"Here they come again," someone yelled as the Apache started their attack again. Johnny gave one last look at his father and brother before turning back to the oncoming Indians.

The attack seemed to go on forever before it just suddenly ended. Indians stopped and looked toward the west before riding off to the north. Everyone stood up, not understanding.

Slade's attention was drawn to a dust cloud coming toward them from the west. He heard a bugle. He saw flashes of blue coming toward them fast.

"Cavalry," Johnny yelled and pointed west. He quickly walked to his father and brother. Looking down at Scott he smiled. "How you doing, Boston?"

"It's not bad," Scott answered with a smile and stood up. "Just a graze. Are you alright?"

Johnny smiled. He had never felt so tired in his entire life. He felt his legs start to give out on him.

It was at that moment that two arms quickly surrounded him and turned him around. Murdoch pulled his youngest son to his chest and held him tight. Johnny placed his head on his father's chest. The sound of his father's heart beating brought tears to his eyes. Murdoch saw his oldest and raised an arm to him. Scott moved forward and walked into the embrace.

The three men stood together as one, a family. None of them wanting to let go of the other.

Johnny raised his head and saw Val standing near them. Val walked over and put a hand at the back of Johnny's neck and squeezed it.

...********

The cavalry detachment heard shots long before seeing a wagon surrounded by Apaches. From the sound of gunfire coming from the group under attack, they seemed to be holding their own. The sound of their bugle had caused the Indians to stop their attack and ride off to the north.

The commanding officer of the detachment stopped in front of the camp. Slade walked out to meet him.

"We sure are glad to see you fellows," Slade smiled as he holstered his gun.

"I'm Captain Fleming. I'm glad we can be of service. Which one of you is Jack Slade?" he asked as he looked around the camp.

"I'm Slade," he answered the smile leaving his face.

"Mr. Slade, I understand you are escorting Murdoch Lancer," Fleming said as he dismounted.

"Yeah, Mr. Lancer is here," Slade looked around to where the tall rancher and his sons were huddled together.

Slade had a slight smile on his face as he saw the man holding his sons close to him. He could have sworn he saw a look of contentment on Madrid's face as he was held close to his father's chest. He hated to break up the moment.

"Mr. Lancer," Slade called out, "the Captain is looking for you."

Murdoch reluctantly left his sons and walked over to Slade and the Captain. "Captain, I'm Murdoch Lancer," he said as he came to a stop next to Slade.

The Captain reached out and shook Murdoch's hand. "Mr. Lancer, I'm Captain Mark Fleming out of Fort Yuma. My commanding officer dispatched my men and me to make sure your party arrived in Fort Tyson without incident. I'm sorry we're late getting here."

The Captain looked around to see the other rancher he was escorting from Fort Yuma to Fort Tyson ride up next to him. "Mr. Lancer this is Matt Butler. Mr. Butler has a ranch on the other side of Tyson's Well. I'm escorting him and his men as well."

"Mr. Butler," Murdoch tipped his hat. "Captain, I don't understand," Murdoch looked at the man confused. "How did you know I was even in Arizona, let alone on my way to Fort Tyson?"

"It's a long story. The short of it is you seem to have friends in some high places. Someone from your ranch notified the Lieutenant Governor of California that you were in Arizona. The Lieutenant Governor of California telegraphed the territorial Governor of Arizona that you were traveling back to California. He asked for a cavalry detail to meet you and your party.

Telegrams went out to every fort in the area. The Commanding Officer at Fort McDowell sent a dispatch to Fort Yuma telling us you'd left Phoenix and were on your way to California.

Doctor Doyle at Fort McDowell included in the dispatch his concerns for your son. He asked that we bring our doctor with us. It was Doctor Doyle that told us you were under the protection of Jack Slade and Johnny Madrid. I have to admit I couldn't believe it when I heard who you were with," the Captain had taken a breath and was looking at Slade.

The gunfighters were moving closer listening to the Captain.

"The doctor is at your disposal if you need him," the Captain said. "Gentlemen, this is Doctor McLean."

A tall, slender man, in a white coat and holding a doctor's bag walked up next to the Captain. "Gentlemen, I'm Doctor Leland McLean."

"We sure could use you, Doc. We have several men wounded, including one of Mr. Lancer's sons," Slade said looking back toward the wagon.

"Not the son Doctor Doyle was concerned about?" Fleming looked toward the wagon following Slade's eyes.

"No, it's Madrid's brother, Scott. He was wounded during the second attack," Slade answered.

"Madrid?" Fleming asked as he looked at Murdoch.

"Yes, Captain, Johnny is my youngest son. Doctor Doyle helped us while we were at Fort McDowell," Murdoch turned around and looked toward the wagon. "John," Murdoch called out.

Johnny was listening to the conversation between Murdoch, Slade and the Captain. He moved slowly to stand beside Murdoch after hearing his name.

"Captain, this is my son, Johnny," Murdoch placed an arm around his son's shoulders.

"Captain," Johnny tipped his hat at Fleming. "Real glad to meet you."

"Mr. Madrid," Fleming acknowledged Johnny. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I must say you've kept the border jumping these last few weeks. There are rumors that the Rurales have sent men after you to try to take you back across the border."

"Yeah," Johnny said flatly, "they caught up with us." Johnny indicating Hanson and his men, who were still lying on the ground where they fell.

"I see," Fleming took in the sight of the fallen men. "At least we don't have to worry about them any longer."

"Doctor McLean, you think you could start looking at our wounded? My brother could sure use you after you've taken care of everyone else," Johnny looked back at Scott.

"Of course, Mr. Madrid," the doctor answered. "I'll want to see you also once I'm finished with them."

"I don't need you, Doc," Johnny stated.

"Let me be the judge of that, Mr. Madrid," the doctor moved forward to start taking care of the wounded.

Johnny turned and walked back to Scott.

"Sergeant, dismount the troop and let's get these men buried," Fleming called out to his men.

He watched as Johnny turned and walked back over to the tall blond man. "Mr. Lancer we will be with you and Mr. Slade until we get to Fort Tyson. It's a two-day ride from here."

"Thank you, Captain. I appreciate it, and I'll make sure the powers that be are aware of your help today. I'm afraid we have been moving slowly due to my son's injuries in Mexico. Now with Scott injured and the other men who are injured, I'm afraid we're not going to be moving any faster," Murdoch said.

"Not to worry, Mr. Lancer. We'll be with you no matter how long it takes," Fleming answered.

"Mr. Lancer, I'm going to see to my men. It looks like we're gonna' be here another night," Slade said as he walked away from Murdoch and the Captain.

"Captain, I need to check on my sons, if you will excuse me," Murdoch said as he turned back to Scott and Johnny.

Captain Fleming was watching Johnny closely. He'd read all the reports. He was amazed that everything that had happened in the past few weeks was because of this one man.

...********

Johnny leaned forward with his hands on the side of the wagon. He took a deep breath. His head was down and his eyes closed.

He thought back to that moment he'd drawn his gun and pulled the trigger on Hanson. He hadn't taken his eyes off Hanson's face. He knew that if he had, even for a split second, glanced at his father he wouldn't have been able to do it.

Now, he needed some time to himself. There were too many people around. He wanted to take a walk. A long walk. He doubted he could get 10 feet without Slade stopping him. He was willing to give it a try though.

"John," Murdoch's voice broke the silence.

Johnny tensed at the sound of his father's voice. Maybe he could ignore the old man, then again, probably not.

"Yes, sir," Johnny answered still holding the side of the wagon with white knuckles. It took everything he had to control his emotions.

"You need to get something to eat," Murdoch said looking at his son's back.

Johnny didn't answer.

"John?" Murdoch called him again.

"I heard you; in a few minutes. I want to get cleaned up first," Johnny answered thinking he'd done a good job putting off the inevitable. He didn't know if he could even face broth at this point.

He looked around. No one was watching him. Johnny started to step around the back of the wagon when he saw Val come from the other side.

Johnny turned back and sat down with his back to the wagon wheel, stretching his legs out in front of him with his ankles crossed. He pulled his hat down over his eyes.

Val came to sit with him. He could tell Johnny was breathing hard and fast. He leaned closer so that his shoulder was touching Johnny's, feeling a tiny shudder that ran through his friend.

"He's alright, Johnny. They're both alright. Just take a deep breath and try to control your breathing. Let the adrenaline go." Val looked at his friend's face, "You gonna' be sick?"

Johnny slowly shook his head. He'd already pushed the bile back down. Just as suddenly he nodded, yes.

"Come on, let's take a walk," Val stood up and reached down to pull Johnny to his feet. They quickly and quietly walked away from camp.

Slade had been watching Madrid. He saw the young gunfighter and Val walk away. Slade knew what was happening. He didn't want to draw attention to Madrid leaving camp by asking any of the other men to follow.

Slade trailed behind Johnny and Val, keeping his distance. He heard, rather than saw, Madrid throwing up. It wasn't uncommon for a gunfighter to throw up after a gunfight when the adrenaline rush started to wear off. Some were more prone to it than others.

He stood for a minute to make sure there was no one else around. He saw Val looking at him and nodded before turning around and walking back to camp.

Slade looked at his men. He could tell there were others that needed to take a walk in the desert. Walking over to the youngest among them, Tate, he knelt next to him.

"Tate, you gonna' be alright, boy," Slade asked the young man. "You gonna' be sick?"

Tate looked up at Slade. Tate had turned a pale gray. He nodded.

"Come on," Slade helped him up. They walked out of camp some distance before Tate finally fell to his knees and gave it all up.

"Sorry about that, Slade," Tate said as he wiped his mouth. "Appreciate you not embarrassing me in front of the others, especially Madrid."

"Tate nothing to be embarrassed about. We all throw up sometimes. Where do you think Madrid is right now?" Slade asked and then nodded off to his right.

"Madrid's throwing up? Never thought someone like him would have a weak stomach," Tate said as he looked in the direction Slade had indicated. He saw Madrid on his knees and Val standing guard.

"Not a matter of a weak stomach, boy," Slade snapped. "Sometimes killing just makes you sick to your stomach. No shame in throwing up."

Tate sat on the ground and looked toward Johnny and Val. "I couldn't ever have made that shot," Tate shook his head. "I couldn't have put a bullet that close to my Pa's head. What if he'd missed?"

Slade squatted down in front of Tate. "When you're as good with a gun as Madrid... well, he never doubted he couldn't make the shot." He patted Tate's shoulder, "Come on. Let's get back."

...********

Doctor McLean had received the dispatch from Doctor Doyle at Fort McDowell explaining his treatment of the young man. Not once did Doctor Doyle indicate his patient was Johnny Madrid.

The doctor had been observing Johnny the entire time he'd treated Scott. He could tell the young man was exhausted and that he absentmindedly rubbed his stomach.

"Well now, young man," the doctor began, "are you ready for me to take a look at you?"

Johnny's head shot up, "Don't need you looking at me, Doc. I'm fine."

Murdoch and Val were standing nearby listening to the exchange. Both men advanced on Johnny at the same time.

"John, if Doctor Doyle was concerned enough about you to send Doctor McLean, then you will let the doctor examine you," Murdoch firmly stated in his 'I'm calling the tune' voice.

Johnny started to protest. He looked at Murdoch and Val. Both men had their arms crossed on their chests and were giving him a stern look. It appeared that the two men had come to an understanding where he was concerned.

"Not fair ganging up on me," he sighed and hung his head. "Sure, Doc, where do you want me?" Johnny said looking back at the doctor.

"My medical wagon is over here," the doctor pointed to his wagon that now sat across from their wagon.

Johnny started walking toward the medical wagon only to find both Murdoch and Val following him. "I don't need you two with me for this," Johnny protested.

"If the Doc there wants any straight answers, he's gonna' want us there," Val spoke up.

"Mr. Madrid, will you take off your shirt and sit down," the doctor said once they arrived at the wagon.

Johnny slowly unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. He sat in the chair the doctor indicated.

Johnny felt uncomfortable sitting out in the open with his shirt off and so many strangers around him. He hated the feeling of being vulnerable.

"Bend forward," the doctor said as he started removing bandages and examined Johnny's back. "The procedure Doctor Doyle did on your back seems to have been successful. There are still a few extremely pink areas where the skin is just starting to mend, but overall it is healing nicely. I'm sorry to say you are going to have a multitude of scars to add to the ones you already have."

McLean took a step back and looked closely at the rest of the young man's back. He'd never seen so many scars on one so young. He couldn't imagine what the boy had been through in his short life. "I'm going to palpate the area around the wounds. Tell me truthfully if there is any pain."

The doctor began pressing old and new scars. Johnny sat with his eyes closed as the doctor made his way across his back. As the doctor touched each raised point on his back, Johnny could feel once again the lash coming down and hear Sanchez's voice. He visibly shuddered at the thought of the man he'd been having a nightmare about for the last three weeks.

The doctor hesitated when he felt his tremor run through his patient. "Did that hurt?" he asked.

"No, Doc, just brought back some bad memories," Johnny answered truthfully. "Go ahead; I'll let you know when you get to the ones that still hurt."

The doctor continued his examination. He touched a spot near Johnny's right shoulder blade. He flinched. "That one still hurts. I can feel it pull when I draw. It's slowing me down some," Johnny said.

The doctor continued until he reached the area that Doctor Doyle had debrided. Even a gentle touch sent waves of pain through Johnny. "Yeah, that hurts," he clutched the edge of the chair he was sitting in.

The doctor's fingers found another spot and Johnny jumped away from him. "That's enough. You want to know what hurts and now you know. I can handle the pain. I can't handle you poking me."

"I'm sorry I hurt you," the doctor said. "Well, it is healing, but the extreme tenderness concerns me. I assume you've not told anyone how much it has been hurting you?"

"No need. There's nothing they can do about it," Johnny answered averting his eyes from his father and Val.

"Have you had any fever within the last 48 hours?" the doctor asked.

"Some fever. It comes and goes," Johnny answered. "Mostly it's bad chills. Especially at night."

"Doctor, last night Johnny was so cold we thought we would never get him warm. My son, Scott, has been using body heat to keep John warm at night since the incident in Mexico. There are some nights it takes two of us to keep him warm," Murdoch explained.

"Let me see your stomach and ribs," the doctor said as he moved around to Johnny's front. "I'm going to do the same thing here. If I hit a spot that's still sore, let me know."

The doctor started on the ribs. Johnny didn't react to any of the pressure placed on them. The doctor's hand next began to press on each side of the abdomen and then the stomach. The doctor firmly pressed the place Sanchez's boot tip hit.

Johnny stiffened, lurched forward, and fell into the doctor's arms. He passed out as the doctor lowered him to the ground.

...********

Jack Slade was tired and almost at the end of his rope. He'd been awake most of the night listening to the Lancers talking and moving around. He knew Madrid had had another bad night. The rule around camp had become 'if Madrid didn't sleep, no one sleeps.'

Slade yawned and ran his fingers through his hair. Between the Indian attack and the gunplay with Bart Hanson, he was ready to collapse. Madrid wasn't the only one who'd been sick when the adrenaline had started to wane.

Slade made sure his men were tended to and that the camp was secure. He didn't like the idea of so many strangers around. The soldiers were one thing, but the rancher, Matt Butler, was another. He could have sworn he'd seen Butler before but couldn't remember where.

He had one more task to complete, and that was to see what the doctor had to say about Madrid. He was leaning on their wagon talking to Scott. There were about 30 feet between their wagon and the doctor's medical wagon.

Scott was more interested in what was happening at the doctor's wagon than talking to Slade.

"I better go over there and see what the verdict is," Slade said as he pushed off the wagon and took a couple of steps forward. He watched a heated exchange between Madrid and the doctor when the doctor was examining the gunfighter's back. It looked like the doctor was now examining Madrid's stomach.

Suddenly, he saw Madrid stiffen and fall forward into the doctor like he'd been shot. Murdoch and Val were moving forward. Slade took off at a run, gun drawn with Scott right behind him.

Tate had also been watching Madrid and the doctor. The moment Madrid fell forward he was also on the move, gun in hand.

Both gunfighters were standing over the doctor as he lowered the unconscious gunfighter to the ground.

"What'd you do to him?" Slade demanded.

Murdoch was on his knees next to his son. He looked up to see Slade and Tate standing over them with guns drawn. "It's not what you think, Slade, you can put the guns away," Murdoch said as he looked at his youngest son with concern.

The doctor lowered Johnny to the ground. He placed a hand on the young man's neck feeling for a pulse. Well, he'd wanted to know where it hurt, and he'd found it.

Johnny lay motionless as the doctor reached in his bag for smelling salts. He waved the bottle under Johnny's nose. Johnny jerked to a sitting position reaching for his gun.

"No, lay down, Mr. Madrid," the doctor said and pushed him back to the ground.

"What the hell happened?" Johnny groaned, once again trying to sit up.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize how tender the spot on your stomach was. I used too much pressure. You passed out," Doctor McLean said leaning back on his heels.

"Doctor?" Murdoch was stroking his son's head.

"I need to see how large the area is. Mr. Madrid, I'm going to have to palpate the area again. I know this is going to hurt. However, there is no other way for me to know how big the tear is," the doctor said. "Can I proceed or do you and Mr. Slade want to go ahead and shoot me now?

Johnny realized he'd drawn his gun. He looked up to see Slade and Tate both with guns pointed at the doctor. Johnny slid his gun back into his holster. "Go ahead, Doc. I won't shoot you. Won't make any promises about Slade and Tate there though. I trust Slade to keep you honest."

A quick smile crossed Slade's face. Madrid had used the word trust and Slade in the same sentence.

The doctor started pressing gently around the area he'd touched earlier. He'd solicited a few sharp moans by the time he finished. "Mr. Lancer, your son...," Doctor McLean started.

"As I told Doc Doyle, you need to be talking to me not Murdoch," Johnny said in a soft drawl.

"Mr. Madrid, the tear in your stomach muscle is healing, but not as quickly as I would have expected from Doctor Doyle's notes. Tell me about the kick."

"What's to tell, Doc. I was on the ground on my side, and Sanchez hauled off and kicked me. His boots had a pointed toe and steel tips," Johnny closed his eyes remembering the boot coming at him.

"Did it come straight at you or was it at an angle?" the doctor asked.

"I don't know I was kinda' thinking of other things at the time," Johnny snapped. Closing his eyes again, he could see Sanchez's boots and the boot tip.

"It was straight in," he finally said. "Man had one hell of a kick."

The doctor started to ask another question and thought better of it. It was evident that his patient had taken several beatings.

"Do you think you can get up now?" the doctor asked as he reached down to help Johnny to his feet.

"Yeah, just give me a hand," Johnny said as both Murdoch and the doctor helped him up.

"I need to clean and dress your back, and then you can put your shirt on," the doctor said as he steadied Johnny. He looked at Slade who had holstered his gun and was now standing to the side with Val.

Scott leaned against the wagon and listened to the conversation. He remembered that terrible night Sanchez kicked his brother. He also remembered sitting by the campfire and not being able to do anything to stop Johnny's scream, as it had torn through the night.

Johnny turned his head to see Scott standing near him. He smiled at his brother and wanted to tell him to go lay down but knew it wouldn't do any good.

The doctor dressed the back wounds and then waited until Johnny's shirt was buttoned and his shirttail tucked in. Johnny turned to face the doctor.

"Your back is healing nicely. There are still some raw areas that need treatment on a regular basis. You said one of the wounds was interfering with your draw. I would suggest not putting too much tension on that area. It will loosen in time."

The doctor sat down in the chair Johnny had vacated. "As for your stomach, the tear is about an inch long. I believe it has healed some in the last three weeks. You need to keep from stretching your stomach muscles. I would imagine you feel a pull or tear when you draw. Am I right?"

"Yeah, especially if I crouch down while I'm drawing," Johnny answered.

"Have you been riding a horse or riding in the wagon?" the doctor asked.

"A little of both but mostly riding a horse. Sometimes riding double with Scott. The wagon jars me too much," Johnny answered again this time looking at his brother.

"The ideal situation would be complete bed rest. However, that isn't possible. I would imagine the wagon movement would cause a great deal more pain than riding horseback. Riding double would be the best of the options as you would have support for your upper body," the doctor was thinking out loud. "I wouldn't suggest any prolonged riding alone."

Johnny only nodded. He already knew what he felt like after riding by himself the day before.

"As for the chills you have been experiencing. I don't see them going away until you've healed completely. The trauma to your body has weakened your defenses. Your body can't handle the cold and the injuries. You may want to drink something warm before bed to heat your body. That should help. I think you should lie down for a while," the doctor said as he saw Scott for the first time, "Scott, I think you should go lay down also."

Slade moved back to the Lancer wagon and watched as Madrid and Scott lay down, their bedrolls next to each other. He turned and looked around the now large camp.

Slade knew he needed to get his men closer to the wagon and Madrid. He would take care of that before nightfall. Right now, he needed to rest himself. He slid down and leaned on the wagon wheel on the opposite side from Madrid and Scott. Taking off his hat, Slade closed his eyes. It'd been a long day, and it wasn't over yet.

...********

Murdoch sat down next to his sleeping sons. There were no words to describe how tired he was. In his mind, he kept replaying Johnny's words from earlier in the day. "Do you trust me?" A few months ago, he would have said, "I don't know you. How can I trust you?" Now he thought, "How can I not trust you."

All he wanted to do was get his family home. He'd resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to be able to get his youngest home safely. Now, all he wanted was to get him home alive. He hadn't once regretted hiring Slade and his men. He would have gladly paid double the amount Slade asked if it had been necessary.

Johnny rolled onto his side and moaned. It broke Murdoch's heart that his son was in pain and that there was nothing he could do about it. He reached over and brushed his hand across Johnny's cheek. He was a little warm, but nothing to be worried about.

It surprised him that he could so easily touch the young man without waking him. A few short weeks ago if Murdoch had even attempted the same thing, Johnny he would have jerked awake with a gun in his hand.

Val walked up and slid down next to Murdoch.

"He's had a rough day," Murdoch said still watching Johnny.

"Yeah, he has. I think you've had a rough day too, Murdoch," Val said looking at the older man.

"I just need some rest," Murdoch answered. "Did Johnny ever get anything to eat?"

"No. The boy was too torn up inside to eat. Putting a bullet into Hanson only inches from you made him sick," Val answered truthfully. "He was puking for a long time. Didn't feel like eating after that."

Murdoch turned to look at Val with a surprised expression on his face.

"Surprised?" Val looked at his sleeping friend. "You shouldn't be. He loves you, Murdoch. Can't imagine what he would be going through if he'd missed that shot."

"Is that how it is after every gunfight or just this one?" Murdoch wondered aloud.

"I've held his head many a time after a gunfight. Killing never came easy to him. Don't get me wrong, he's killed plenty of times, but he's not like some. He's never liked it. He says he loses a piece of himself every time he kills a man. This time I think he was scared. Scared to think what would have happened if he missed."

"But he didn't miss," Murdoch stated. "I knew he wouldn't."

"Johnny never misses what he aims at, Murdoch," Val stated.

...********

The next morning found an active camp. Captain Fleming was readying the troopers to move out as Slade prepared his group.

The only gunfighter that had to ride in the wagon was Martin who had a wounded leg. Johnny started the day out on horseback by himself and switched to riding double with Scott after two hours.

As usual, day camp was set up at mid-day. Doctor McLean positioned the medical wagon across from the Lancer's wagon as it had been the day before.

Everyone started to relax in the heat of the day as Johnny stretched out beside his brother next to the wagon. He heard Slade settle in on the other side of the wagon. Closing his eyes, he was just starting to relax when he felt the cold barrel of a gun press against his neck. His eyes flew open.

A low voice said, "Don't try anything. Show me both hands."

...********

Matt Butler and Bart Hanson had both been hired to go after Madrid by the Rurales Commander in Nogales.

Butler had an advantage that Hanson didn't have. Butler knew what Madrid looked like. He'd been one of those that stood on the boardwalk in Nogales when Slade and Madrid rode through town on their way to the border. He still remembered being impressed, and even a little awestruck, at seeing the two legendary gunfighters in person.

It took some time for Butler to agree to go after Madrid. The Rurales commander had upped his offer three times before he and Hanson finally decided to bring the gunfighter back to Mexico.

Matt Butler and his five men had ridden from Nogales to Fort Yuma anticipating Madrid to take the border route back to California. He'd been disappointed to find out he was wrong. Bart Hanson and his men had gone through Phoenix and then across to Fort Tyson.

Hanson telegraphed Butler in Yuma with a simple message. "Our friend is with Jack Slade. We are following."

Under the pretense of being a rancher from Tyson's Well, Butler found out the army was sending a patrol north from Yuma to find a rancher by the name of Murdoch Lancer. He also found out that Jack Slade and Johnny Madrid were protecting Lancer.

They were two days out of Fort Yuma when the cavalry detachment first heard gunfire. Butler and his men held back as the patrol rode forward. Once they'd seen the Indians moving away, Butler had ridden toward the front of the detachment. He could see Captain Fleming talking to a tall man he introduced as Murdoch Lancer.

Butler looked around the camp. He immediately saw the bodies of Hanson and his men. He started having second thoughts about the job he'd accepted.

At first, he didn't see the man he'd come for. His ears perked up when he heard the Captain mention Madrid's name. Lancer was telling the Captain that Madrid was his son. Butler smiled as Madrid casually walked over to stand next to his father.

Now all Butler had to do was get Madrid out of camp and headed back toward the border. He waited a night and half a day before making his move.

The day camp was settling down as Butler watched Madrid and his brother lay down next to the wagon. He and one of his men moved slowly toward the brothers. Another of his men gathered the horses and was taking them to the other side of the medical wagon to wait for him. His other two men were watching for any signs of trouble.

He couldn't believe he was able to get close enough to the gunfighter to put his gun against his neck.

In a low voice, he said, "Don't try anything. Show me both hands."

...********

Murdoch and Captain Fleming were talking. Murdoch, out of habit now, glanced frequently toward his sleeping sons. He noted Val was talking with Bonner and Stewart. Somehow, he felt a little safer knowing the cavalry was now with them.

Murdoch once again glanced toward the wagon. This time he saw two men standing over his sons. Alarm bells went off in his head.

"Captain, something's wrong. Will you get some of your men over to ...," he stopped as he watched one of the men pull a gun out and point it at Johnny.

Captain Fleming looked in the direction Murdoch was looking. He also saw Butler pull the gun. He turned and told his Sergeant to get some men and follow him.

...********

Slade was nodding off when he heard a low voice on the other side of the wagon say, "Don't try anything. Show me both hands." His eyes shot open.

Slade rolled onto his side and looked under the wagon. He could see Madrid still laying on his bedroll with a gun pressed against his neck.

Sitting up quietly and looking around, Slade saw Val talking to Bonner and Stewart. He picked up a rock and threw it against Bonner's leg. All three men jumped and reached for their guns. Slade motioned for them to move around to the other side of the wagon.

Bonner, Stewart, and Val started moving. As they did, they alerted the other gunfighters that there was trouble.

Slade stood up and moved slowly to the front of the wagon, listening to what was happening on the other side.

...********

Johnny took a deep breath. He was kicking himself for letting the man get the drop on him. He looked up to see the rancher the Captain had introduced as Butler.

Johnny made both hands visible. He looked over to see Scott watching him. A man was standing over Scott with a gun pointed at his head.

"Get up," Butler said, pulling the gun back from Johnny's neck.

Johnny pushed himself upright and then holding onto the wagon steadied himself on his feet.

"You try anything, and my partner is going to put a bullet in your brother's kneecap. Do you understand me?" Butler asked not taking his eyes off Johnny.

Johnny didn't answer.

"Do you understand? I want to hear you say it, Madrid," Butler said.

Johnny looked down at Scott and then back at Butler. "I understand," he nodded.

Butler put his gun in his holster and pulled a piece of rope from his pocket. "Put your hands in front of you."

Johnny hesitated only a moment. He put his hands out in front of him. Butler tied them tightly together. Johnny knew he couldn't take the risk of getting Scott hurt. He would play along with Butler until they were clear of his brother.

Johnny saw one of Butler's men lead seven horses to the other side of the medical wagon.

Doctor McLean stepped out of the medical wagon and looked straight at Johnny. A sudden realization of what was happening hit the doctor as he saw Butler tie Johnny's hands together. He started to move forward when another of Butler's men stopped him.

"Move," Butler motioned for Johnny to walk toward the horses.

As Johnny walked, he glanced side to side. He saw Val off to his left and Slade to his right. Glancing back over his shoulder, Johnny saw Gammon helping Scott up and out of the line of fire. He knew then how this was going to play out.

Johnny got halfway between the two wagons and stopped. Butler jammed the gun barrel into his sore ribs, "Keep moving, Madrid. You're getting on that horse, and we're leaving."

Johnny stood his ground.

"I told you to move, boy," Butler snapped.

"There are only three men here that can call me boy and get away with it, and you, sure as hell, aren't one of them," Johnny's voice was soft but loud enough for everyone to hear him.

Butler turned his prisoner around and looked into his cold blue eyes. "I said, get on the horse," Butler said a little louder than he meant to.

"Not gonna' happen, Butler," Johnny answered arching his eyebrow.

"I'll shoot you, Madrid," Butler threatened, still looking into Madrid's cold eyes.

"After what I've been through these last three weeks, a bullet don't sound half bad," Johnny spat the words out.

"I mean it. Now, move," Butler snatched Johnny's arm as he pulled him around. "You don't want to see anything happen to the Doc over there, do you?"

Johnny looked at the Doctor with a gun pointed at him. It was one thing to put himself in danger; yet placing the Doctor in danger was something else.

"He's not part of this, Butler," Johnny drawled taking a step forward.

"Until I have you on a horse and we ride out, he's part of this," Butler answered shoving Johnny along.

"Butler, you've got to be even dumber than Hanson," Johnny said as he stumbled forward. "You haven't even once looked around to see the mess you've gotten yourself into."

Butler stopped and looked around. Gunfighters and soldiers surrounded him and his men.

Butler put an arm around Johnny's chest and pulled him tightly to him. He felt the gunfighter take a sharp breath.

Butler put his gun barrel against Johnny's side and yelled out, "My men and I are leaving. Madrid is coming with us. If you try to stop us, we'll shoot the Doc first and then Madrid."

"Madrid doesn't leave here," Slade barked out.

Butler started working his way to the horses. "Let my man with the horses go."

"Give it up, Butler," Johnny hissed.

"We came a long way for you, Madrid. Don't plan on going back empty-handed. That Rurales Commander in Nogales is paying us good money to take you back," Butler said.

"The Rurales Commander?" Johnny stopped walking. "What about the reward Vasquez told us about?"

"The only reward on you was put there by the Commander. He's paying us himself. That man has got it in for you good. Seems you killed off most of his family," Butler laughed.

"His family?" Johnny questioned.

"Yeah, you killed his two brothers. The Commander's name is Alejandro Sanchez. You remember the Sanchez family? Seems Ramirez and his uncle were related to him too," Butler pushed Johnny forward again. "That man has got a special kind of hate for you."

"You sure the Rurales aren't offering a reward?" Johnny stopped again and tried to pull free of Butler.

"Nope, just that Commander," Butler smirked as he held Johnny tighter putting pressure on his already painful stomach. Butler could feel the man flinch.

They had almost gotten to the medical wagon.

"I'm not going with you, Butler," Johnny drawled.

"I think you will," Butler aimed at the Doctor.

"No," Johnny broke free and turned on Butler pushing the gun away from the doctor.

Butler looked Johnny in the eyes and grinned before lowering his gun and firing one shot. The bullet skimmed along Johnny's right rib cage, sending him to the ground on his knees.

"No one moves," Butler called out pointing his gun at the man in front of him. "That's so you know I mean business. It's just a graze," Butler looked directly at Slade. "The next bullet goes in his leg; the one after that into his gun hand. Sanchez wants him back alive. Didn't say he had to be in one piece."

Slade stood frozen, unsure what to do next. His eyes fell on the man he was supposed to be protecting.

"Slade," Johnny said, clutching his side, "you promised. I trust you."

...********

Slade remembered that damn promise he'd made; however, a lot had happened since that day outside Nogales. He'd vowed, one gunfighter to another, that Madrid wouldn't be taken alive. Madrid had been just another gunfighter; a very dangerous gunfighter that meant nothing to him. At the time, he'd been ready to deliver on his promise.

Now, things had changed. Slade wasn't sure when he'd stopped thinking of Madrid as a 'job' and started thinking of him as what... a friend... someone he could one day trust to watch his back. Slade didn't know if he could keep his promise now.

Finally, finding his voice, Slade hissed, "Not letting you leave here with him."

Butler called to his man holding the gun on the doctor, "Shoot the doctor in his right hand."

"No," Johnny tried putting his hands in the air. He struggled to get up. "I'll go with you. Leave the Doc alone.

"Now that's better," Butler grinned and reached down, grabbing Johnny's arm, jerking him to his feet. "Get those horses over here," he called out.

The man holding the horses looked nervously at the gunfighter who had a gun leveled at him.

"I said get those horses over here," Butler pointed his gun at Johnny again. When no one moved Butler yelled, "Shoot the doctor."

The sound of a gun cocking made Johnny's head jerk up.

"Slade…," Johnny called out, looking at Slade.

Slade could see the pain etched on Madrid's face. He had to find a way to get Madrid and the doctor out of this in one piece. Slade kept his gun leveled as he called out, "Hayes, let him go."

Hayes looked at the man with the horses one more time, before lowering his gun and waving him toward Butler.

"That's better," Butler grinned as the horses moved closer. "We're going to ride out. We're taking Madrid and the Doc. Anyone follows, and the Doc dies first."

Butler's men hustled the doctor forward to stand next to Johnny.

Johnny looked at McLean, "Sorry I got you in this mess, Doc."

Doctor McLean got his first good look at Madrid. Turning to Butler, "Let me bandage his wound. He can't ride like this."

"No time, Doc," Butler sneered.

"But…," the doctor started to say but was cut off by Butler.

"I said, no," Butler pushed Johnny toward one of the horses, "Get him up there. The Doc can ride double with him."

Two of Butler's men grabbed Johnny and pushed him into the saddle of one of the horses. Once Johnny was seated, the doctor was helped onto the horse.

"Keep them covered," Butler called out to his men. Looking around, he noticed all guns still pointed there way.

Butler took the reins of one of the horses and mounted. The rest of his men followed. Reaching down, he took the reins of Johnny's horse.

"Move out," Butler said and started moving away from the camp.

Murdoch had quietly stood by while everything was playing out in front of him. When he saw that his son being led away from him, he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Johnny!" Murdoch yelled taking several steps forward. Larry Tate caught his arm and held him back.

Johnny heard Murdoch call out. He turned his head and saw the anguish in his father's face. He knew he had to do something. "Hang on to me, Doc," Johnny quietly said to McLean.

"What?" McLean whispered.

The doctor didn't know what Madrid had planned, but he wasn't anxious to go with these men. He was able to get the one word out when the young man in front of him, threw himself off the right side of the horse. The doctor's arms were around Johnny's waist, and he had no alternative but to go with him. They hit the ground with a resounding thud. The sound of gunfire quickly followed.

Matt Butler's two prisoners were on the horse behind him. When he heard Madrid's father call out, he turned and looked back. When he saw his prize fly out of the saddle, Butler dropped the reins of the horse he was leading. He started to wheel his horse around when he felt a bullet hit him.

Slade watched Madrid and the doctor tumble off the horse they were on. Slade didn't wait another second. He put a bullet into Butler's heart and watched him fall, a look of surprise on his face.

Butler's men realized too late what was happening. A volley of gunfire cut them down before they could get a shot off.

Doctor McLean blinked and shook his head. Stunned for a moment from the fall, he pushed himself up and looked around. Men from the camp were running toward Madrid and him.

Captain Fleming was by McLean's side in moments. "Leland, are you alright?"

McLean nodded, "I'm alright. Everything happened so fast. All Madrid said was 'hang on,' and then he threw us out of the saddle."

Val was the first to reach Johnny. He sat down next to his friend and lifted his shoulders.

Johnny gasped for air and coughed, a fine mist of blood sprayed from his mouth.

"Try to relax, hijo. I got you," Val whispered as he pulled the young man into a sitting position and leaned him back against him.

The doctor looked at Johnny, knowing the young man needed help, "Everyone back. Let me see him."

McLean tore Johnny's shirt open to examine the bullet wound. A streak of blood traveled along his rib cage. A massive purple bruise was already forming from where Johnny hit the ground.

Someone had gone back to the medical wagon and gotten the doctor's bag. McLean pulled out a stethoscope and listened to Johnny's chest as he watched the young man's face.

"Keep him upright," he was shaking his head. "The bullet cracked a rib. I heard the rib break when we fell." McLean looked at Murdoch's panicked face, "Mr. Lancer, we need to get him into the medical wagon."

"Doctor?" Murdoch was staring at the doctor.

"Mr. Lancer, I'm not sure, but it sounds like a lung has collapsed," the doctor said as he took Johnny's wrist, checking his pulse.

Murdoch turned pale. Scott moved to his father's side and put a hand on his shoulder. Val took a tighter hold on Johnny and laid his cheek on the top of the boy's head.

Johnny was barely aware of what was happening around him. He looked up to see Val's eyes meet his. "Papi... get… them home," he gasped as his head dropped to his chest.

...********

The next hour found everyone crowded around the medical wagon. Everyone could hear the doctor and his assistant talking inside the wagon. The doctor was barking orders as to what instruments he wanted.

Murdoch was sitting in the chair outside the wagon with his head in his hands. Scott sat motionless next to him.

Val was pacing. He couldn't get the sound of Johnny's voice out of his head as he'd asked him to take care of his family.

Slade was trying not to shoot Val. He wanted to tell the man to sit down. The gunfighter was nervous enough without the constant movement around him. Fortunately, his men had sense enough to stand quietly.

Captain Fleming was standing behind Murdoch glancing between the medical wagon and the rancher he was escorting. He felt guilty for bringing Butler and his men into the camp.

Things had been quiet for some time when they heard the doctor curse inside the wagon. Everyone jumped to their feet. "Come on, boy, breathe. Stay with me!" they heard him say.

Murdoch collapsed into the chair again. Val had stopped pacing, much to Slade's relief.

Scott had gone pale. Even Slade had paled. It was as if everyone was holding their breath.

Mumbled words coming from the medical wagon seemed to shatter the quiet around them.

Murdoch was shaking his head and starting to step into the wagon as Val took his arm, held him back, and pushed him back into the chair.

"Try again," they heard a desperate doctor saying. There was a long silence.

Minutes seemed like hours until they heard a loud gasp and coughing coming from the wagon followed by more gasps and coughing.

"That's more like it," the doctor was saying. "Let's close it up."

Another 30 minutes passed before the doctor stepped out of the wagon. He looked around, and his eyes fell on Murdoch.

"Mr. Lancer, the broken rib caused some internal bleeding, and one of his lungs collapsed," the doctor held up a hand as Murdoch started to stand. "It's alright. I was able to get the lung to inflate and stop the bleeding. He's lost a lot of blood, and he's weak. I don't want him moved for at least 24 hours. I can't tell you how vital it is that he doesn't move around. I don't think he could survive another surgery. I also stitched the tear in the stomach muscle while I had him sedated."

"He'll be alright?" Murdoch hadn't found the strength to get out of the chair.

The doctor looked at the ground and took a deep breath. "I'm not going to lie to you. It's going to be a long road. He wasn't in the best of shape, to begin with. I expect he will have a fever. I can't even think of all the odds that are against him.

From what little I know of your son and his reputation, I know he's fought some long odds before and has come out on top. There are a lot of ifs to contend with right now. If we can keep him quiet, and if we can keep his fever down and if he makes it through the next 48 hours, I believe he will make it," the doctor turned to go back into the wagon.

"Can we see him?" Murdoch asked standing up.

"Yes, one at a time and only for a few minutes. Please don't try to wake him," the doctor answered.

Murdoch got up on shaky legs and stepped into the wagon. Sitting next to the bed, he put his hand on his son's pale face. For several minutes he watched as Johnny's chest rose and fell.

"I love you, son," a worried father said, before standing and walking out.

Val and then Scott each took turns going into the wagon.

Scott stepped out and leaned against the wagon. He was tired, and his arm was hurting. "I'm going to lie down." He looked to see Gammon standing next to him.

"Come on, Scott," Gammon said. "I'll help you." It appeared Gammon had assigned himself as Scott's protector.

Scott nodded and let Gammon guide him back to his bedroll.

Slade had moved forward, "Mr. Lancer, mind if I go in to see him?"

Murdoch looked at the gunfighter and smiled. He put a hand on Slade's shoulder. "He grew on you, didn't he?"

Slade didn't say anything. He stepped into the wagon and stood for a long time looking down at the 'job.'

"Hardest damn job I've ever had, trying to keep you alive," Slade said softly. "I've never had a job I didn't complete. Don't you dare be my first!" He stepped closer to the bed placing his hand on top of Johnny's. "You hear me, Madrid? I told your old man I'd get you home alive. Don't make me a liar."

Slade stepped out of the wagon and looked around at his men. "Two of you each with Mr. Lancer, Scott and Val. You take turns sleeping. That leaves 5 of us to guard this wagon. No one that's not supposed to be here gets anywhere closer than 10 feet. You shoot anyone who tries and ask questions later."

Slade turned and looked at the Fleming, "Captain, you need to let your men know that this area is off limits. I wouldn't want one of my men to shoot one of yours by mistake."

"I'll see that they know Mr. Slade. I'm also putting a detachment around the wagon," Fleming said turning to his Sergeant.

"Sergeant, I want men surrounding the wagon. Stay more than 20 feet out and don't interfere with any of Mr. Slade's men," Fleming ordered.

The sun was starting to set on a very long day as Slade positioned his bedroll next to the medical wagon.

"Mr. Lancer, I think you need to get some sleep. It's been a long day. I'll make sure someone is with him all night. If anything changes, we'll wake you," Slade said to the weary man. "You've got two sons to worry about right now. You see to Scott. I'll make sure Mad…Johnny's alright."

"Thank you, Jack," Murdoch smiled. "I think I'll go see to Scott. I'm so tired I don't believe I'm going to be on my feet much longer," Murdoch said as he moved away to the other wagon followed by Bryant and Lambert.

Slade looked around nodding his satisfaction. He had Tate, Martin, Bonner, and Stewart guarding the medical wagon. Bryant and Lambert were with Murdoch. Gammon and Ryan were looking after Scott, and Williams and Hayes were with Val.

"Bonner. Tate. Martin. Stewart. We're going to take two-hour shifts sitting inside with Madrid. He's asleep right now. If he starts to wake up or you see any change, you let me and the Doc know right away. The soldiers are going to be patrolling around us. You watch them. I don't trust anyone after today," Slade said as he turned to step into the wagon. "Bonner, you get some sleep. I'll take the first shift inside with Madrid. I'll wake you in 2 hours."

Slade settled into a chair and stretched his legs out. It was going to be another long night.

...********

"We're going to move him out of the wagon," Doctor McLean said. It had been 24 hours, and his patient was as stable as he was going to get.

Bed and patient were gently lifted and moved out of the wagon and placed near the Lancer's wagon. A tent top had been extended out from the wagon to provide shade.

The doctor examined Johnny after getting him settled. He looked at Murdoch and shook his head. "No change. We'll have to wait."

If they thought the first 24 hours were hard, there was no way they could have imagined how hard the next 24 were going to be.

...********

He was warm and comfortable, and nothing seemed to be hurting as he burrowed his head into the pillow.

"John," the voice seemed to be far away. "Time to wake up."

He ignored the voice and drifted deeper into the peaceful sleep he was enjoying.

"Johnny," the voice was persistent.

Johnny ignored it again. "Just let me be," he thought.

"He won't wake up," he could hear the voice with concern in it now.

"He just needs a little more time," another voice was saying. "He'll wake up when he's ready."

The voices were finally silent. Johnny drifted even deeper. He didn't know how long it was before he heard the voice again.

"Brother, you need to wake up," Scott was saying.

Johnny wanted to stay where he was. He felt warm and safe here; without pain. Deep down he knew that when he did surface, he would be in pain again. He was tired of being in pain. He'd known pain all of his life, in one form or another.

"Johnny, you've got me worried," Scott's voice was closer now. "Can you wake up for me?"

Johnny heard the concern in his brother's voice. He drifted to the surface just enough to tell them to go away.

"Do I have to?" he whispered.

"Murdoch. Val. He's coming around," Scott called out.

Murdoch and Val moved quickly to Scott's side. Slade and his men came closer.

"Son," Murdoch's voice was close, "come on, wake up."

"No," he whispered. "Go away." He wanted them to leave him alone. He was tired; too tired even to open his eyes.

He heard Scott laugh. "We're not going anywhere, little brother."

He laid there trying to clear his mind. There seemed to be a dense fog all around him. Again, he felt the tiredness overwhelm him. It would be so easy to go back to sleep and never wake up; so easy to give up.

"Scott, you know I didn't push you?" Johnny's whispered with a frown spreading across his face.

Scott sat confused for a moment then remembered the creek. "I know. You just let me go, but you came in after me. Didn't you?" Scott had reached down and picked up his brother's hand.

"Yeah," Johnny was breathing harder now, "was… good day." He was having a hard time catching his breath. "Your… turn," the words were soft and quiet.

"My turn?" Scott asked, confused.

"Let… go," Johnny's words faded away.

He was tired of the fight. Tired of the pain. He wanted to rest; deserved to rest. Hadn't he done enough? Hadn't he suffered enough? Wouldn't it be easier on all of them if he wasn't here? No, now he was going to stop it all. It would be so easy. All he had to do was let the darkness take him one more time. It was time to face the devil, and he was ready.

Johnny took a sharp breath and moaned; his breathing became short and rasping. "Te Amo," he took a deep breath and went limp.

"Scott, go get the doctor," Murdoch said as he laid his hand on his son's chest.

Doctor McLean pushed himself past Murdoch and knelt beside the cot, "Let me check him."

Taking Johnny's wrist, McLean frowned. "His pulse is weak, and his heart rate is slowing." Shaking his head, "Mr. Lancer there's nothing I can do. It's up to him, and it doesn't look like he wants to fight any longer." He looked at the three men next to him. "I know it's hard, but you need to let him go. I don't know how he's hung on as long as he has."

"No!" Scott screamed. "I'm not giving up on him. He wouldn't give up on any of us."

Murdoch still had his hand on his son's chest, watching it slowly rise and fall. He could barely feel a heartbeat.

Slade had been watching and listening and getting angry. He reached down, grabbing Scott by his shoulder, he pulled the blonde out the way. Slade knelt beside the cot.

"Madrid!" he reached down and gently slapped Johnny's face. "What are you people doing? Sitting here wringing your hands! Doc, you think he's done? I don't think so. The Johnny Madrid I've heard about doesn't give up any more than he begs," Slade's voice was unyielding.

"Slade...," Murdoch looked at the man in shock.

"No, Mr. Lancer. He's the 'job,' and I'll be damned if I'm giving up on him," Slade looked down at Johnny's pale face. Murdoch's hand was still on the boy's chest.

Slade leaned closer. "Madrid!" he slapped him again a little harder this time. "You hear me? Madrid! I'm calling you out. You get your sorry ass back here and face me?"

Johnny seemed to flinch under Murdoch's hand. He could feel Johnny's heart beat just a little faster. He nodded to Slade.

"Madrid! Somehow, you've got them peons in Mexico believing you're some kind of hero. Heard some of them call you a living legend. Bull shit. You know what you are? You're just a two-bit gunhawk I could take with my eyes closed. You're a coward, Madrid. The Johnny Madrid they talk about along the border would never walk away from a fight," Slade's voice had gotten louder. "Madrid, you gonna' face me."

Slade was watching Johnny's chest began to rise and fall faster. He looked at Murdoch who was still nodding.

Slade leaned forward, "Madrid, I'm calling you out. Remember, you don't let anyone fight your battles for you. You don't face me, and I'll call out your brother. You want Scott to take your place in front of me?" he hissed. "Scott, you heard what I said. Madrid doesn't face me, you will."

"Johnny," Scott was looking at Slade. "Johnny, you know I wouldn't stand a chance against Slade." He was almost begging now, "You have to fight, little brother. Please wake up."

Scott leaned closer to his brother and whispered in his ear, "Please don't leave me."

...********

Johnny drifted back to a place where he felt safe, and there was no pain. The voices kept nagging at him. He wasn't going to listen to them anymore. He was tired. It was time to rest.

There had been too much pain in his life, and he was ready to go. He smiled to himself. It would be a relief to have it over finally. Murdoch had Scott. He knew now that Val would watch out for both of them. His family would be safe.

He relaxed and started floating toward the light. He saw his mother. She stood in the bright light and held her arms out to him. There was a smile on her face.

For some reason that didn't seem right. His mother had never wanted him when she was alive, why would she want him now?

Johnny looked past his mother at the light. He felt at peace for the first time in his life. Ignoring his mother, he took a step toward the light when he felt a sting on his face. He heard someone call 'Madrid.'

No, all he wanted to do was rest. He started to move toward the warm light again. Again, he felt the sting on his face. Now he was getting pissed off.

He heard his name again. Someone was calling him out. Slade was calling him out. No, that couldn't be right. Slade wouldn't call him out.

He heard Scott's voice. If Johnny didn't face Slade, then Scott would have to. That wasn't gonna' happen. No one was going to hurt his brother.

Johnny felt like he was coming up from a deep cavern. He fought to the top. The light was just within reach. Rolling his head slightly, he moaned.

"Slade, you wanta' dance, you dance with me," he whispered. "No one… hurts my brother."

Scott smiled and looked at Slade, "Thank you." He looked back at his brother, "That's right, little brother. Open your eyes and tell Slade."

The pain was back. He tried to retreat again, but the pain was bringing him fully awake. It took time, but Johnny was finally able to open his eyes. It took a while before faces came into focus. The first face he saw was his father, then Scott and then Val.

"You're all here. Everyone alright?" The words were so soft they had to strain to hear them.

"Yes, we're all here, son," Murdoch smiled. "Everyone, except you, is fine."

"Slade was calling me out," Johnny asked as he tried to sit up again. Pain shot through him.

"That's right, Madrid," Slade said as Johnny's eyes focused on him.

"You really calling me out?" Johnny asked trying to control the pain.

"Thought I might," Slade answered with a smile. "Then I gave it some more thought. Don't think I want to go up against a living legend after all. Glad to see you decided to open your eyes. You had these folks kinda' worried."

Johnny winced. "Living legend? That's a new one," he smiled weakly. "What happened?"

"When you fell off the horse, you broke a rib, and one of your lungs collapsed. Doctor McLean had to do surgery," Murdoch answered.

"How long?" Johnny asked licking his lips. He was very thirsty.

"Three days," Murdoch said. "You've been out for three days."

"Jack get Butler?" Johnny was fighting dizziness now. "You got some water?"

"I got him, Johnny," Slade answered

Murdoch lifted a cup of water to Johnny's lips.

Johnny looked up at the man. Johnny's voice was soft and low. "I knew I could trust you, Jack."

"Told you a while back you could trust me. Just took some time for you to realize it," Slade said. He realized Johnny had started calling him Jack versus Slade.

"Gracias, amigo," Johnny almost whispered.

"Johnny, you get some rest. We've got your back. The cavalry is still here. When you're ready to travel we'll start you home again," Slade reached out and touched Johnny's arm.

Johnny nodded and closed his eyes.

...********

They stayed in camp only one more day before starting for Fort Tyson.

Fort Tyson was a privately-owned fort built near the Arizona-California line. The fort was built to aid local settlers and miners against raiding Apache and Comancheros. Just outside the fort, at Tyson's Well, a stage station had been constructed for use by the Butterfield Stage Line as a layover for travelers. Tyson's Well was also the primary source of water in the area.

The two-day trip to the fort proved to be more than Johnny could handle. The decision was made for them to spend time resting at Tyson's Well. Fortunately, the stage station had a private room they let Johnny use.

For two days after arriving at the stage station, Johnny fought fever and a persistent cough. By the time the fever broke, he was exhausted, as were his family.

Doctor McLean visited Johnny at least once a day and sometimes twice. Even with the fever, he'd noted his young patient wasn't progressing as he expected.

Scott could also tell something was wrong.

It was the 2nd day at Tyson's Well when Captain Fleming asked to meet with the Lancers and Slade.

"Mr. Lancer, I'm afraid you're going to have to change your travel plans. The Apache are raiding between Fort Tyson and Riverside. The army is closing the route. The only route left open is between Fort Tyson and Fort Yuma."

"That means we'd have to take the border route back to California," Slade said looking at Johnny.

"What do you think, Johnny?" Val asked. He was worried too. The spark that had always been in Johnny's eyes seemed to have gone out. He was afraid the boy was giving up again.

"Don't have much choice do we. Can't take the chance of another attack. When do you want to leave, Captain?" Johnny coughed. He sounded defeated.

"That's up to the doctor, Johnny. We aren't going anywhere until you're able to travel. I'll ask Doctor McLean to keep me updated on your progress," the Captain said as he started for the door.

"Johnny, why don't you get some rest? I'll let you know when the doctor is here," Murdoch said as he stepped to the door.

Johnny didn't say anything. He pulled the covers over his shoulders and closed his eyes. He was asleep within moments.

Thirty minutes later Doctor McLean stepped into the room and asked the others to step out. He examined Johnny's sutures and listened to his lungs. He leaned back with a frown on his face.

"So, Doc, when can I travel?" Johnny asked between coughs. The tiredness was evident in his voice.

"Not for some time, Johnny," the doctor answered. "You're still too weak for travel. I'm concerned with fluid on your lungs. How do you feel?"

"Tired. Tired all the time. All I want to do is sleep. Never has taken me this long to get back on my feet. If I could do something about this cough, I think I'd feel some better," Johnny answered concluding with a coughing spell that left him exhausted and weak.

"Your body has had a lot of punishment in the last few weeks. It's going to take longer than normal to recover. Is there anything bothering you?" the doctor asked as he put his stethoscope away.

Johnny didn't answer.

"Well, I'll be back in the morning. You try to rest. I'll have someone bring in some tea. It should help with the cough," the doctor said as he picked up his bag and left the room.

Outside the room, Doctor McLean found Murdoch, Scott, Val, and Slade. He noted that Stewart had taken up a seat outside Johnny's room.

The doctor moved to a seat near the front of the station.

"Well?" Murdoch asked.

"Mr. Lancer, he isn't healing as fast as I would have expected. He has fluid on the lungs, and I suspect pneumonia is developing. As I explained to Johnny, his body has had a lot of trauma during the last few weeks. He can't expect to rebound like he has in the past. My greatest concern right now is his frame of mind. It's like it was out in the desert. It's as if he's given up. I don't know what's bothering him. He's depressed, and it's keeping him from healing the way he should," the doctor stood and picked up his bag.

"When can he travel?" Slade asked.

"At this point, I have no idea," the doctor said as he reached for the door. "If something doesn't change... well... you know where to reach me if you need me. I'll be back in the morning to check on him," the doctor opened the door and stepped out.

"Pneumonia," Murdoch sat down and looked out the window. "How much more…? Murdoch didn't finish the sentence.

"I'll go sit with him for a spell," Val said as he started toward Johnny's room. "Why don't all of you go get some rest? Stewart's watching the room right now. Slade, you want to put anyone else to watch him?"

"I'll have Gammon sit out front," Slade said as he walked out the door.

Val stepped into Johnny's room and closed the door.

"Doc give you his verdict?" Johnny coughed and slipped further down in the bed.

"Yeah, he did," Val answered as he sat in the chair next to the bed. He sat for a long time watching his friend.

"What?" Johnny asked with closed eyes. He could feel Val staring at him.

"Just wondering when you're gonna' stop feeling sorry for yourself," Val asked leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Feeling sorry for myself?" Johnny opened his eyes and looked at Val.

"Yeah. That's what I figure's going on. You're laying there feeling sorry for yourself," Val drawled.

"Val, I'm just tired," Johnny sighed and then coughed. "I don't think I've ever felt so tired. I keep pulling myself up, and someone is always there to knock me back down. Makes a person wonder why even bother."

"So, you just gonna' give up? Is that how it is?" Val leaned forward in the chair.

"Val, I don't know. I've spent the better part of four weeks laid up, and there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. I just want the pain to stop," he coughed.

"Hijo, listen to me. You'll get through this. You have a lot of people worried, including me, and you know how I don't like to worry," Val smiled. "I'll get you some tea. You think about it. You have a lot of folks who want you well. Let me know what you need."

Val left the room and walked out to the others. "Scott, why don't you take him some of that tea. Doc said it would help his cough. Maybe you can convince him to stop feeling sorry for himself and get back to the business of healing."

Scott brought a cup the herbal tea the doctor had left. Johnny drank it and laid back down. He was pale, and his breathing was rasping. Scott watched as his brother once again started to drift off to sleep.

The Johnny he knew was a fighter. The boy that lay in the bed in front of him had stopped fighting. It tore him up inside thinking he might lose him. The person he'd waited his whole life to meet was slowly fading away. He couldn't let that happen; he wouldn't let it happen. Somehow, he had to make this brother of his understand that he wouldn't let him go without a fight.

Scott remembered the long nights in the desert when Johnny had been so sick. He'd spent those nights holding his little brother and praying for him to have the strength to go on.

The sun was setting as Scott looked at Johnny and a thought came to him. Scott took off his boots and gun belt. He lifted the covers and slid into the bed beside his brother.

Johnny opened his eyes. "You cold, Boston?"

"As a matter of fact, I am, little brother," Scott said as he put his arms around his brother and pulled Johnny to his chest. There was no resistance. "Think you can keep me warm?"

Johnny sighed and snuggled closer.

"Want to tell me what's wrong?" Scott asked as his brother settled next to him.

"Don't know," Johnny softly answered. "Just feel... not sure how I feel. Been hurting a long time now. Just tired of the pain. Tired of fighting." The tiredness in his voice was evident.

Scott felt a wetness on his chest and realized his brother's tears were slowly flowing down his face and soaking into his shirt.

"Shush, little brother. I'm here. You're not alone," Scott spoke slowly rocking the young man in his arms. "You'll never be alone again. I'm here; we're all here for you."

"I'm tired, Scott. So tired," Johnny's voice was rasping. "I'm not sure how to keep going; not sure I wanta' keep going."

"Oh no, brother," Scott said as he continued to rock, "you're not going to leave me. I wouldn't know what to do without my little brother. You know you're the only reason I stayed after Pardee. I don't think I could have handled our father calling the tune if you hadn't been there for me."

Scott could feel a smile on his brother's face. "No, you would have done fine with the old man. You andhim, you speak the same language. I feel out of place sometimes when you two start talking about places I've never seen or books I'm never gonna' read," he coughed, burying his head into his brother's chest. "You know that you're the only reason I stayed and the only reason I kept coming back the times I left. If you hadn't been there, I'd have headed back to the border a long time ago."

"Val seems to believe you're feeling sorry for yourself. Couldn't blame you if you were. You've had a lot on you for a long time now," Scott said as he stroked his brother's head.

"Like I said, I'm tired, Scott. I sleep all the time, but I don't seem to get any rest," Johnny answered. His cough seemed to settle.

"Tell you what," Scott pushed the hair from his little brother's forehead. "You go to sleep. I'm gonna' stay right here tonight. Maybe you can get some rest. Would you like that?"

There was a slight nod.

Scott smiled.

"Alright," Johnny said. "Scott?"

"Yes."

"I couldn't have done this without you, you know that, don't you? I wouldn't have made it out of that prison without you. I wouldn't have made it out of the desert if you hadn't been there. Time was, I didn't need anyone. Now, I can't imagine not having you in my life. Thanks for being here for me."

"You're welcome. That's what big brothers do. It's in the big brother handbook. Now go to sleep. I love you, Johnny."

"I love you too, Scott," he whispered as he gave up trying to stay awake.

Scott pulled his brother closer and laid his cheek on the top of Johnny's head. It wasn't long before he heard Johnny's breathing level out into slow even breaths and his body relax. He could feel Johnny's chest rumble with each breath.

"Don't give up, Johnny," he whispered.

Two hours later Murdoch and Val opened the door to Johnny's room. They found the two brothers sound asleep, with Scott's arms holding his brother tight against him.

"You know I never thought of it, but didn't I tell you we had him spoiled out there in the desert," Val whispered. "He just needed to be reminded that he doesn't have to do this alone. Guess Scott figured it out."

Murdoch smiled and prayed that Scott had found the answer.

...********

Three days later, Doctor McLean walked into Johnny's room. He took one look at his patient and smiled. He'd watched the gradual change over the last few days. There was color in the boy's cheeks. Most importantly, there was a smile on his face.

"Good Morning," the doctor said as he moved to the bedside.

"Morning, Doc," Johnny answered scooting up in bed.

"Captain Fleming tells me we're heading back to Fort Yuma as soon as you're able to travel. Let's see how you're doing today. I also need to see if your stitches are ready to come out. Can you lean forward? Let me get your shirt off," he said as he reached for his stethoscope. "Where's your father?"

"Not sure," Johnny said as he unbuttoned his shirt. "I think they've gotten tired of looking at me. Went to get some air."

The doctor put the stethoscope against Johnny's chest and listened for a few minutes before taking his pulse. He looked pleased with what he found. He then looked at the incision.

"The incision is doing well, and I believe it's time to take out the stitches. Johnny, your lungs are clearer but I still hear some congestion. Your pulse rate is good. I'm amazed at the progress you've made in the last three days," the doctor said as he reached for his scissors to take out the stitches.

"Can I get up and out of this room, Doc? I'm about to go crazy being in here," Johnny smiled

"Yes," the doctor answered as he began. "There are some rules though. You cannot strain yourself. You're going to tire quickly. Make sure you rest and don't overdo it. If you feel short of breath, you need to sit down right away. You are going to need at least four to five more days before traveling again. I don't want you riding alone for at least another week. You will either ride double or ride in the wagon. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, Doc, I do," Johnny grimaced when the last stitch was removed.

"Do you need help getting up and dressed?" the doctor asked as he put his instruments away.

"No, Doc, I can do it," Johnny said as he moved to the side of the bed.

"I'll be letting your father and brother know of the rules I just told you, so don't think you can get away with something young man," the doctor smiled.

"I'll be good, Doc," Johnny smiled as he started to push himself off the bed.

"Johnny, I have to tell you that you're not what I expected," the doctor said as he gathered his things. He saw the look on Johnny's face and raised a hand. "Let me finish. You see, I have family in Tucson. A couple of years ago, my nephew was involved in a gunfight with you. You probably don't remember him. His name was Billy McLean.

I wasn't there, and I hadn't seen my brother in many years. Billy's death was hard on his family, but from what my other brothers have told me; Billy was wild. By all accounts, he called you out that day."

"Tucson, two years ago?" Johnny looked sad. "Yeah, I remember the redheaded kid. He wouldn't back down no matter what I said. I'm sorry, Doc."

"I don't blame you for his death, Johnny," Doctor McLean said. "I just wanted you to know that."

Johnny didn't say anything else. Yes, he remembered the gunfight in Tucson. He'd had more than one reminder of it during the last few weeks. Funny how life goes around in circles, one life touching the lives of others. Johnny found it ironic that his life had been saved by the kin of a man he'd killed.

After the doctor left, Johnny cautiously stood and got dressed. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

He put on his rig and took his hat and walked outside. He smiled as the fresh air hit his face.

Johnny walked onto the porch of the stage station to find Tate sitting with his feet up on the rail. Tate turned to glance over his shoulder and seeing Johnny, almost fell over in the chair.

"Doc know you're out here, Johnny?" Tate asked as he stood up.

"Yep, just got released. Well, sort of. Doc's letting me walk around now," Johnny said as he looked around. There wasn't anyone except Tate out front. "Where is everyone?"

"Everyone's out back practicing," Tate answered with his head down.

"You get the short straw of watching over me?" Johnny asked knowing the answer. "Sorry."

"It's alright Johnny. The other fellows don't like me being around anyway," the young gunfighter answered with a little disappointment in his voice.

"Why?" Johnny asked looking at the downturned head of the young man he knew was his age.

Tate hesitated. "I'm the youngest. The others don't take me serious."

"I see," Johnny smiled. "Tate, sit down, let's talk."

Johnny sat down in a rocker and Tate sat next to him. Neither man noticed the four men that started to come around the side of the building. Murdoch, Val, Scott, and Slade came to a halt when they heard Johnny's voice.

"Tate, how old are you?" Johnny asked as he thought of how young the man looked.

"19, a year older than you, Johnny," Tate answered

Johnny looked at the young face of the boy. "You're a year older than me in years, Tate, but you'll never be older than me. In gunhawk years, I'm ancient," he said. "How long you been in the game?" Johnny knew what the other man was thinking.

"About a year and a half," Tate looked at the man he wished he was.

"What'd you do before?" Johnny asked quietly.

"Worked a ranch with my Pa. Didn't care for it much," Tate answered.

"What'd your Pa think of you becoming a gunhawk?" Johnny asked thinking about his own father.

"Didn't like it much, but I couldn't stay there," Tate shook his head. "Nothing I ever did was right in his eyes. We argued all the time. I finally couldn't take it. All I ever wanted to do was make him proud of me for something."

"I know how it is. My old man doesn't think much of me being a gunhawk either. He keeps trying to separate Johnny Madrid from Johnny Lancer. I think he's finally accepted the fact that they're both me. Can't have one without the other. Haven't done much in my life for my old man to be proud of," he sighed.

"Johnny, I've seen the way your Pa looks at you. You may not see it, but he's proud of you. Back in Nogales, when the vaqueros told him why the Mission bells were ringing, you could see the pride he had in you. I saw the way he looked at you when you faced them Rurales at the border. Every time he tells someone that Johnny Madrid is his son you can hear how proud he is. I saw the way he trusted you with Hanson. Johnny, I ain't never seen a man prouder of a son than your Pa is of you. Wish my Pa was like yours," Tate said.

Johnny thought back to the times on this trip that Murdoch had been forced to admit that Johnny Madrid was his son. Tate was right. Murdoch hadn't faltered once when he'd told someone that "Yes, Johnny Madrid is my son." Johnny wondered why he'd never realized it before.

"So, getting back to the way the fellows are treating you. You think that in a year and a half you've proven yourself to them? Tate, what do you want? You want to be as fast as me, don't you? You want my life?" a slight smile crossed his face.

"Yeah, I do, Johnny. I want people to respect me like they do you. I'm fast. I'm real fast. Don't know why the fellows don't think I'm not," Tate answered.

Johnny looked at the young man and sighed.

"Tate, I don't know how fast you are, but I know you're never gonna' be as fast as me. Don't mean anything against you. I'm not bragging, don't have to brag, just stating the facts," Johnny's voice was soft.

"As for respect. I don't know. I figured it out a long time ago that there is a difference between being respected and being feared. People don't step out of my way out of respect. They step out of my way because they're afraid of me."

"That's not true, Johnny. I know these fellows respect you. The people down along the border respect you. I've seen the way they look at you. I've heard what they've said about you," Tate stated. He'd watched and listened as people called Johnny a hero, a champion and a legend.

Tate looked away. "Johnny, why can't I be as fast as you? How do you know I'm not as fast as you now?" the boy shot to his feet.

"Sit down, Tate," Johnny smiled up at the man. "You're not gonna' ever be faster than me because you don't want it like I wanted it." Johnny repositioned himself in the chair.

"I want it, Johnny," Tate protested.

"Tate, you want to know how bad I wanted it. I shot my first man when I was eight years old. Thought I'd killed him. Turns out I didn't. The first time I killed a man I was 10 years old. I wasn't proud of it. It made me sick, but I didn't have a choice. He would have killed me if I hadn't killed him first.

I realized that day that a gun was the only way I was gonna' be able to survive. For two years after that I did nothing but practice with this," Johnny raised his gun in his right hand, staring at it lovingly.

"I wanted it, and I wanted it bad. I was tired of being hungry and tired of being treated lower than dirt. I was tired of being beaten up and bullied because I had blue eyes," Johnny took a shaky breath.

"I wanted to be like the pistoleros I saw in the border towns. I thought if I were good with a gun I would be respected. I practiced every waking moment I could for two years. I watched every gunfight in every town I could for those two years. I studied how the pistoleros walked, talked, and drew their guns. I studied their faces before they drew their guns.

Every peso I earned for those two years I spent on either food or bullets. Most of the time if there was a choice between the two, I choose the bullets. When I didn't have money for the bullets, I took them ... I took them off of dead gunfighters in the street."

Murdoch lowered his head and slowly shook it. He felt Val's hand on his shoulder. His heart ached. The thought of his little boy starving and beaten was one thing. The thought of his son wanting something so bad he would steal from the dead was more than he could understand.

"That's how I got in my first gunfight," Johnny closed his eyes remembering that day. "It was in Nogales. I'd watched a gunfight, and when it was over, I went to the man who was laying in the street and started to pull his gun belt off. The gunhawk that had just won saw me and grabbed me by the back of my neck and threw me a good 10 feet. When I stood up, he saw the gun on my hip and laughed. He called me a half-breed bastard and asked if I knew how to use it.

Hell, I didn't know who he was. I only knew that I'd just had enough of being treated like dirt," the hurt and despair Johnny had felt could be heard in his voice.

"Thirty seconds later I was standing, and he was dead. I had his reputation. Turns out his name was Jake Cochran, and he was the fastest gun in the territory at the time.

I was 12 years old, and I already felt like I was 40. Men called me a kid, but I wasn't a kid. I hadn't been in a long time. I stopped being a kid when I was ten years old and killed that first man.

Things changed after Cochran. I didn't have to worry much about food. No one bullied me, and if they did, I made sure they never did it again. The one thing that didn't change was that I wanted to be good with my gun. It consumed me. I wanted to be faster, and I got faster. By the time I was 14, just the mention of my name could cause a man to piss his pants.

All I ever wanted to be was Johnny Madrid, good at my trade. Tate, I'm not just good, I'm the best.

I'm so good now that I can't even walk across a street without someone calling me out. I have to sit with my back to a wall to keep someone from shooting me. Hell, I have to watch my back all the time.

Mexico was my home for a lot of years. Can't ever go back there. I have to sleep with a gun under my pillow every night, even when I'm at home because I never know when someone is going to try to kill me.

I'm always worried about the people I care about. I'm afraid someone is going to go after them to get to me or they're gonna' get hurt or killed because of me." He stopped and laughed, "If Val were listening right now, he'd be saying 'poor baby.'"

Murdoch, Scott, and Slade turned around and looked at Val. Val smiled and just nodded his head.

"I never knew who I could trust and who I couldn't, so I didn't trust anyone. Now I have four people I know I can trust. Four people, I'd be honored to ride the river with me. Four people I know would do anything for me, anything to keep me safe, and they know I'd give my life for them.

Don't get me wrong. That's the life I choose. I didn't think I had any other choice. Tate, you do have a choice.

I bet you've never been in a gunfight. I bet you've never been shot. Before you get in your first gunfight, you'll want to make peace with dying. You know you can't be afraid of dying or catching a bullet. You have to be willing to make a pact with the devil.

Is that what you want? Is that the way you want to live your life? You want my life? You want to sell your soul to the devil and wait for him to collect his due? You want to be as fast as me? You want always to be waiting for that person who's faster?"

Tate was listening quietly. "What if there isn't anyone faster?"

"Tate, there is always someone faster. Always someone just a heartbeat away from taking my reputation from me. Once you become the best, there is no turning back. You can't trust anyone. You can't care about anyone. You don't get to have a family."

"What about your family, Johnny? Didn't they have anything to say about you becoming a gunhawk?" Tate looked at Johnny.

"Didn't have a family. Didn't know I had a father that wanted me back then or a brother for that matter. Didn't have anyone to care about me most of the time and I didn't care about anyone," Johnny was tiring.

Tate sat quietly for a few moments. "Johnny, can I ask you a question?"

"You can ask, don't mean I'll answer," Johnny answered.

"How many men you killed?" Tate asked looking at Johnny.

Val closed his eyes and sighed. Scott looked at his father and wondered if that information was in the Pinkerton reports. Murdoch looked at Scott and shook his head. Slade cocked his head interested in the answer himself.

Johnny felt a little dizzy. He hadn't been expecting this question. "That's a pretty personal question, Tate."

"Sorry, Johnny. Didn't mean ...," Tate started to say.

"You want to know how many I faced in gunfights or all together. Honestly, I couldn't tell you either one. I stopped counting face to face after 30. Couldn't even guess as to how many altogether. When I first started, I kept track. I was proud of the number back then. One day someone close to me made me realize it wasn't anything to be proud of. Killing was just a means of staying alive."

"When did you stop counting? I mean how old were you?" Tate asked.

A few years ago. Guess I was around 15 or 16. Hell, didn't even know I was 18 until my old man told me that day outside of Tucson," Johnny laughed.

Johnny slumped in the chair.

"Johnny, you alright?" Tate was on his feet.

"I'm alright, Tate. Just a little tired," Johnny answered. "Tate, do you want to see if you can take me?"

Tate looked at Johnny with confusion on his face. "Johnny, I don't want to take you."

"Come on, let's go around back. Me and you are gonna' dance. First, we're going to empty these guns. I don't want you to accidentally shoot me," Johnny laughed. "You wouldn't want to face my old man if that happened."

"You're sure Johnny?" Tate stood up and helped Johnny to his feet, "You feel strong enough?"

"Let's just say my 'weakened condition' is going to give you an edge," Johnny said as he stepped off the porch and started around the building only to come face to face with his family and Slade.

"Going somewhere, son?" Murdoch asked moving forward.

"You know where we're going, old man," Johnny looked at Val and smiled. Johnny stepped by them and walked around to the back where the rest of the men were practicing.

Murdoch looked at Val. "He knew we were here, didn't he?" Murdoch asked as he followed his son.

"Yep," Val answered with a grin.

As they moved behind the stage station, Slade could see stage passengers and the men who worked at the station watching the gunfighter's practice.

Slade moved closer to his men. "Madrid and Tate are going to see whose draw is faster. Ain't gonna' be any shooting. Both guns are gonna' be empty," Slade looked around at the gunhawks.

Johnny straightened his hat on his head and looked at Tate. He pulled out his gun and emptied the cylinder into his hand and put the bullets in his shirt pocket.

Tate stood 20 feet from Johnny and did the same with his bullets.

"Tate, let me see what you've got," Johnny grinned.

"Johnny, I know you aren't up to full strength yet. You sure you want to do this?" Tate was watching Johnny's face.

"Tate, do you want to dance or not? Remember I want everything you have. Don't hold back. I'll know if you do," Johnny's said in a soft, low voice. "Your dance, so I'll let you draw first."

Tate looked around and froze when he saw Murdoch's face. He was glad Johnny had insisted they remove the bullets from their guns. He'd faced the giant of a man once and had no wish to do it again.

Slade and the other gunfighters stood to the side. Slade had his hand on his gun and was watching not only Madrid and Tate but also the others that were watching. Madrid having an empty gun made him nervous. Slade looked at his men. It seemed that some of them had the same idea. There was more than one of them with their hands on the butts of their guns.

Johnny watched Tate's face. He saw the flicker in his eyes knowing the other man was going to draw. Johnny's gun was out of the holster before Tate's gun cleared the holster.

Tate looked at the gun pointed at him and swallowed.

Johnny put the gun back in his holster and walked over to the Tate. He looked around him.

"I told you I was faster than you, Tate. Don't mean you aren't fast or that you can't hold your own. With, maybe one exception, I'm faster than anyone here," he looked at Slade. "You've been with me for the last month. You know that what you just saw wasn't my fastest draw."

"Johnny, you weren't even trying, were you?" Tate had a frown on his face.

"No, I wasn't really trying. I'm getting tired," Johnny answered truthfully.

"Johnny, if this had been a real gunfight, I'd be dead right now," the realization had come to the young man.

"Yeah, you'd be dead right now, and I'd have another man on my conscience. Tate, there is always someone faster. Someday I'll meet up with someone who is faster than me. Hell, Slade may be faster. I doubt it but don't want to find out.

I decided to quit the game because if I stayed in, I'd be dead long before I'm 30. I have a family now, people I care about and who care about me," Johnny looked at his family and smiled.

Johnny pulled the bullets from his shirt pocket and reloaded his gun.

"You may want to think about that before it's too late. Think about another line of work. You know I think you'd be a good lawman. I know a sheriff in California that might need a deputy," Johnny saw Val smiling at him.

Murdoch walked over to Johnny and put an arm around his shoulders. "Come on, son. You look like you've had enough for one day. I think it's time you got some rest," Murdoch said as he guided his son back to the stage station.

Once Johnny was undressed, and back in bed he leaned back against his headboard and closed his eyes.

Murdoch sat on the side of the bed and smiled, "I think you got through to Tate. He was right, you know. I am proud of you, son. I'm proud of the man you've become."

"You are?" Surprised, Johnny looked into his father's eyes. "I've done some bad things in my life. Never thought you could be proud of a man like me."

"How could I not be proud of you, John? I've seen how you can inspire loyalty in people. The people in the border towns and the gunfighters who came to help you. Johnny, anyone who knows you respects you," Murdoch smiled at his youngest. "Remember one thing; I love you. I always have and I always will."

Johnny closed his eyes again and sighed. He felt his heart flutter. "Thank you," he leaned forward into his father's arms. "Thank you for everything. I never did thank you for coming for me. Thank you for taking care of me. I love you, too."

...********

With the route from Riverside to Tyson's Well closed, all stage traffic was being re-routed from Tyson's Well to Fort Yuma. The stages from Prescott to Tyson's Well came through twice a week, two coaches going in each direction. The coach from Phoenix to Tyson's Well came through once a week. The coach from Fort Yuma to Tyson's Well came in twice a week. As a result, the station was in constant flux. Thus, making it harder for Slade to keep guards posted on the men he was supposed to protect.

For the next few days, Johnny spent his time either sitting on the front porch of the stage station in a rocker or practicing. He enjoyed watching the passengers come and go and trying to guess what they did for a living. On most days Scott sat with him. Of course, if Johnny and Scott were there at least six of Slade's men were with them.

It was on one of these days that the stage from Prescott came in with five passengers. Two looked to be gamblers, one a salesman, one a ranch hand, and one man dressed in a nice suit. Johnny watched them all step down from the stage.

The man in the suit stepped onto the porch of the station and looked around. Murdoch and Scott had just stepped out of the building when the man looked at Murdoch and asked, "I was wondering if you could help me?"

"If I can," Murdoch answered.

"My name is Joshua Grant," the man in the suit said as he held out his hand to shake with Murdoch.

"Murdoch Lancer," Murdoch extended his hand. "This is my son Scott."

"Mr. Grant," Scott shook the man's hand.

Murdoch glanced at Johnny sitting in the rocker but didn't introduce him.

The rest of his men were now sitting around the edge of the porch.

"Mr. Lancer, good. I was looking for you, as well as Jack Slade. I understand Mr. Slade is here acting as an escort for you and your family," Grant stated as he looked around.

"Yes, he is. May I ask how you know that?" Murdoch looked for Slade.

"It's my business to find these things out, Mr. Lancer. I'm a reporter for the Arizona Daily Journal in Prescott, as well as the Arizona Citizen in Tucson," Grant responded.

"It's true Mr. Slade is escorting my family back to our ranch in California," Murdoch answered as he saw Slade walk up.

"I'm Slade," Jack stepped forward. "I know you, mister?"

"Mr. Slade," Grant extended his hand which Slade ignored. "Well... yes. I'm Joshua Grant. As I was telling Mr. Lancer, I'm with the Arizona Daily Journal in Prescott and the Arizona Citizen in Tucson."

"That so," Slade drawled. "What do you want with me?"

"I would like to interview you and anyone else here that was in Nogales a few weeks ago," Grant said.

"We were all there. Not sure I want you interviewing me," Slade answered.

"Mr. Lancer, you were in Nogales as well?" Grant turned to Murdoch.

"I was, Mr. Grant, and I must agree with Mr. Slade that I don't want to be interviewed about anything that transpired there," Murdoch had noted that Scott had moved closer to Johnny. "What type of article are you planning on writing?"

"In point of fact, my focus is going to be on Johnny Madrid," Grant answered.

Johnny stopped rocking, and his gaze froze on Grant.

"Really, what type of article would that be?" Scott asked as he placed a hand on Johnny's shoulder. He could feel a slight tremor run through his brother's body.

"Oh, you mean are my articles going to be fact or fiction, man or myth," Grant smiled. "I want to write about the man and the facts that make up the legend of Madrid."

Johnny snorted, "Legend?"

Grant turned to face Johnny. "Of course, young man. Madrid was a legend long before the incidents in Nuevo Casa Granda and Nogales. There isn't a man, woman or child in Mexico or along the border that doesn't know his name. I dare say there is no one west of the Mississippi doesn't know the name Madrid."

Val had come out of the building and was listening to the conversation. He smiled when he saw Johnny lower his head and blush.

"So, you think writing about Madrid is something your readers are interested in?" Murdoch questioned as he glanced at Johnny.

"Most definitely," Grant answered. "I've done my research. There is more to Madrid than those dime novels portray."

"Maybe you should just leave it be, mister," Slade said, also glancing at Johnny. "You go writing about Madrid being some kind of legend you're gonna' have every gunhawk west of the Mississippi looking to make a name for himself. One of these days one of those men juiced up on your articles, is gonna' be the one who's faster than Madrid. You wanta' see Madrid dead?"

"Of course not," Grant protested. "I just think people should know all the good he's done."

"People won't change their opinion of Madrid just because you write them articles," Johnny spoke up. "Why not write about the men that were at Nogales to help Madrid. Write about Tate over there. He was the youngest gunhawk there next to Madrid."

"I see what you're saying, young man," Grant replied. "Write about the men behind the man. That's an excellent idea. Were you there young man? What's your name?"

Johnny stood up. "Lancer. Name's Lancer, John Lancer and no I don't want you to write about me." He turned and went into the stage station.

Grant watched him walk away, and two of Slade's men followed him as did Scott and Val. Grant turned back to Tate and took out a pad and pencil. "So, young man. Tate is it? How old are you?"

Slade smiled and followed Johnny into the station.

...********

Doctor McLean was smiling when he left Johnny after examining him. He found Murdoch standing outside the room. "Mr. Lancer, it looks like he's fit to travel. I still want him either in a wagon or riding double. However, I believe we can leave for Fort Yuma whenever the Captain is ready."

Murdoch smiled. "That is excellent news, Doctor. Please have the Captain let us know when he wants to leave. I'll inform Mr. Slade."

Johnny came out of his room tucking in his shirttail and his rig over his shoulder. "Doc tell you?"

"Yes, he did. I'm glad you're well enough to travel. You know we won't make it back by Thanksgiving, but we will certainly be home by Scott's birthday and yours and Christmas. I'll telegraph Teresa once we get to Yuma," Murdoch reached out and put an arm around his son's shoulders.

"Scott's birthday?" Johnny moved toward the door.

"Scott's birthday is December 19th. Your birthday is December 23rd," Murdoch answered. "Then there's my birthday on the 28th."

Johnny nodded. "December must have been a hard month on you all these years," he looked down and sighed.

"It was. What with both your birthdays and Christmas. It was a tough month. For some years after you were taken away, I couldn't stand to be at the ranch during December," the sadness in his voice evident.

"Murdoch, I'm sorry...," Johnny started to say.

"Johnny, none of what happened was your fault. I'm tired of trying to place blame on anyone for what happened," he smiled. "Now, I can't wait to get home. I'm looking forward to celebrating for a change. Having you safe at home is all I want right now."

"Gonna' go join the fellows and practice out back. You coming?" Johnny said as he put on his gun belt.

"Why not?" Murdoch answered. "You go ahead. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Johnny pulled his stomach in and tightened his gun belt before walking out. He rounded the building joined by four of Slade's men.

He approached the gunfighters who were practicing.

"Got a go-ahead to travel," he yelled out as he punched a fist into the air.

"Hallelujah," someone called out.

"It's about time," Val grinned as he watched Johnny saunter toward the other gunfighters.

Joshua Grant was standing behind the station watching the gunfighter's practice. He was impressed by the skill the men exhibited.

Grant saw Johnny walk up and heard his announcement. Watching as John Lancer joined the gunfighters in the practice area, he noted the way the young man wore his holster. He watched with fascination as Johnny drew and fired at the targets.

Murdoch walked to stand next to Grant. Two of Slade's men accompanied him. Scott moved closer to his father, also with two of Slade's men. Murdoch turned to the men and motioned them to join the others practicing.

"Mr. Lancer," Grant tipped his hat to Murdoch. "I've noticed something."

"What would that be, Mr. Grant?" Murdoch asked as he watched Johnny's movements.

"I've noticed that there are always at least two of Mr. Slade's men with you at all times. Your son, Scott, also has two men accompanying him. Mr. Crawford seems to have two men with him as well," Grant commented.

"Yes," Murdoch responded.

"Well, I've noticed your younger son has no less than four of Slade's men with him at all times," Grant turned to face Murdoch.

"Slade assigns his men as he sees fit, Mr. Grant," Murdoch said.

"Your youngest son is very good with a gun," Grant stated as he watched Johnny draw and fire.

"Yes, he is, isn't he," Murdoch answered. "Are you trying to make a point Mr. Grant?" Murdoch turned to face the man directly.

Someone threw a tin can into the air and yelled, "Johnny." Johnny drew and fired, easily hitting it.

"Slade," Johnny laughed and called out. "Help me out here. Tate, throw another can up."

Tate threw a can in the air. Johnny and Slade took turns hitting the can, keeping it in the air. Twelve shots rang out before they allowed the can to settle back to the ground.

"Nice shooting," Val walked over and picked the can up. "Johnny, I think he may have gotten an edge on you on that last shot."

Johnny walked over to his father and Grant while he reloaded his gun. Slade followed him. Soon everyone followed.

"Good shooting, son," Murdoch smiled.

"Mr. Lancer, I don't think you've been quite honest with me," Grant said as the smile vanished from Johnny's face.

"In what way, Mr. Grant," Murdoch placed an arm around Johnny's shoulders.

"You're Johnny Madrid, aren't you, young man?" Grant looked at Johnny questioningly.

Johnny dipped his head before looking directly at Grant and nodding, "Yes, sir. Don't keep it a secret. Don't advertise it either."

"You truly don't want me writing about you?" Grant asked realizing how young the man of his focus was.

"No, sir. Don't write anything about me. Let people believe what they're gonna' believe," Johnny responded twirling his gun once before putting the colt back in his holster.

"I was serious when I told you I'd done my research. I know about the villages in Mexico you've helped. I know about the missions and the orphanages," Grant stated.

"You know too much, Mr. Grant," Johnny's voice had gone soft and low. "You don't want to be writing about any of that. Why don't you and I have a private conversation?"

Johnny reached out an arm and pulled Grant away from the others.

The two walked a few feet away. "Why? Why don't you want people to know the best of you?" Grant questioned.

"Mr. Grant, no one is going to change their opinion of me no matter what you write. You write about any of those things you just said, and a lot of people could get hurt. You think the Dons and landowners would be happy knowing about the missions?

The only reason the church accepts any money from the likes of me is that they don't know it's from me. The church would never openly accept what they would consider blood money. Do you have any idea what would happen to the children in the orphanages if the Rurales found out I was sending them money?

Leave it be, Mr. Grant. Write about Tate and the others that helped me get across the border, not about me," Johnny finished giving Grant one of his best glares.

"I understand, Mr. Madrid, or should I say, Mr. Lancer. You know, of course, that just because I don't write about you, there won't be someone who does?"

"I know. I can't stop people writing about me. Never could. I've read a couple of those damn dime novels. Wish they would at least get the facts right," Johnny grinned. "We're leaving in the next day or two, Mr. Grant. Go on back to Prescott and write your stories. Just not stories about Johnny Madrid."

Johnny and Grant walked back to the others. "I think we've reached an understanding," Johnny smiled. "I'm gonna' practice a little while longer."

Johnny turned back to the practice area followed by Slade and his men. Scott and Val stayed with Murdoch.

"You have quite a young man there, Mr. Lancer. My readers will never hear the best of him from me. You do know that he's given at least half of every penny he's ever earned with his gun to the missions south of the border," Grant looked at Murdoch. "I know for a fact that three orphanages have received a total of $1000 from him earlier this year. He's made me understand that writing about any of that could put the missions and the children in harm's way."

Scott was listening. "So that's what he did with his listening money," he thought.

"Thank you for telling me, Mr. Grant," Murdoch smiled. "I've learned a lot about my youngest son in the last few weeks. Yes, he is quite a remarkable man." He looked at Scott. "I have two very remarkable men as sons."

...********

That afternoon Captain Fleming announced they were leaving for Fort Yuma the next day. They had been at Tyson's Well for 11 days.

It was an easy two-day trip from Tyson's Well to Yuma. Johnny rode double with Scott until they were almost in Yuma.

As Yuma appeared on the horizon, Slade looked at Johnny. Slade knew Johnny needed to take some time before going into the town.

"Stewart, ride up and tell the Captain we're stopping for a few minutes," Slade yelled out.

Stewart nodded and galloped to the front of the column.

Everyone dismounted.

"Figured you needed a few minutes before we go in," Slade lead his horse over to Johnny.

"Yeah, I do," Johnny answered. "Slade you gotta' ...," Johnny started to ask for a horse, as Gammon led a horse over and handed the reins to Slade.

"Nervous, son?" Murdoch asked.

"No, not nervous," Johnny answered. "Try scared," he thought.

No, Johnny Madrid wasn't scared of anything. He could only pray that Butler had been telling the truth and there was no bounty on him.

Johnny walked off from the others. He looked back and saw everyone watching him. They quickly turned around when they saw him looking at them.

"They care," he thought.

It felt good to have someone care about him. He remembered a day, months ago, when he'd sat in a saloon in Morro Coyo and listened to his brother trying to talk him out of leaving Lancer. What was it Scott had said? "You'll be dead before you're thirty." His reply had been, "Well, that comes to us all doesn't it, brother?" Scott had said, "But you won't even leave a ripple."

Johnny thought back over his life and the last few weeks. Scott hadn't known about the things he'd done in Mexico or the people he'd helped. He still couldn't believe he would live to be thirty or perhaps not even twenty, but he did know that he would leave at least a ripple behind him.

Just knowing he had a family now that cared about him was enough. He smiled thinking maybe he would even leave a wave behind him now, not just a ripple.

He took a deep breath and gathered himself; digging deep he found his old friend Madrid. He looked back at his family again and smiled.

"Well, you just gonna' stand around or are you going into Yuma with me," Johnny walked back and took the reins of the horse from Slade.

"Mount up," Slade called out, "we're going into Yuma." He waved to the Captain to let him know they were ready.

...********

It was a strange looking procession that entered Yuma. Captain Fleming led his cavalry detachment followed by their medical wagon. Behind them rode Slade and Johnny side by side, followed by Murdoch, Scott and Val. The gunfighters came next followed by their wagon.

Johnny and Slade were both well known in Yuma. Their ride into town didn't go unnoticed. As they rode in, they both scanned the street for trouble.

The Captain stopped in front of the hotel, and Murdoch moved next to him and dismounted.

"Mr. Lancer, it's been a pleasure," the Captain said as he reached down to shake Murdoch's hand. "Mr. Madrid. Mr. Slade. It has been an honor."

"Captain, I'll be letting anyone, and everyone know that you have gone above and beyond the call of duty in helping us these last two weeks," Murdoch said.

"Safe trip, Mr. Lancer," the Captain said and motioned his detachment forward.

"I'll get us rooms," Murdoch said as he tied off his horse. He looked at Johnny. "Stay out of trouble while I'm gone."

"Aw shucks, Pa, you never let me have no fun," Johnny drawled and laughed. Scott almost fell out of his saddle laughing. Murdoch simply shook his head and went into the hotel.

Everyone dismounted.

"Feel like a sitting duck out here," Slade said looking around.

"Yeah, me too," Johnny agreed.

Shortly, Murdoch came back with keys and handed them to Slade. "Just let us know which rooms you want us in."

The hotel desk clerk sent a Mexican bellman to help with the saddlebags. The moment the man stepped onto the boardwalk, he stopped and stared at Johnny.

"Madre de Dios," he said making the sign of the cross. A broad smile formed on the man's face.

Johnny turned to look at the bellman. He knew the look the man was giving him.

"Senor Madrid," the man reached out and took Johnny's hand, "you are here?"

"Si, senor," Johnny answered the man with a slight blush.

"We have all prayed for you. There will be much rejoicing tonight knowing you are here and safe," the man was almost bowing.

"Senor," Johnny reached over and pulled the man straight. "Thank everyone for their prayers. I've needed them."

"Si, Senor, let me take your things for you," the man started picking up saddle bags.

The desk clerk was thrilled he was able to accommodate the large party that had just checked in. He looked up to see Murdoch coming back through the doors of the hotel. He looked stunned when Jack Slade followed him in. His mouth fell open when Johnny Madrid followed Slade.

"Nice day, ain't it," Johnny smiled and tipped his hat to the clerk.

Slade made the room assignments. He chose a room facing the street and put Johnny and Scott's room directly across the hall from him. Murdoch and Val had rooms on either side of Johnny and Scott. The rest of the men were placed across the hall from Murdoch and Val and on either side of them.

Johnny dropped his saddlebags and took Scott's arm. "I need a drink. Come on, Boston."

They went back into the hall and told Murdoch they were going to the saloon.

"You want to come with us, Sir," Scott asked.

"No, son, I'm going to lie down for a while. Wake me when you're ready for dinner," Murdoch replied as he stretched out on the bed and sighed. "Now that's better."

Scott laughed as he left the room and pulled the door closed.

Scott told Slade that Murdoch was staying behind.

"Bryant, you and Lambert stay here with Mr. Lancer," Slade ordered as everyone else turned to go back out of the hotel.

Slade led the way to the saloon. He moved to the batwing doors and looked inside. Seeing that it was safe, he waved the others inside.

Johnny went to the bar, "Tequila and leave the bottle."

Slade walked up beside him, "Whiskey and might as well leave the bottle. We need more glasses."

Johnny took the tequila, a bowl of salt, and a bowl of limes to a table in the rear corner of the saloon. There were already two men sitting at the table. He gave them a brief glare, and they got up and moved to another table. He sat down with his back to the wall.

Slade sat next to him with his back also to the wall.

"I've got the tequila; Slade's got the whiskey, help yourself," Johnny announced.

Men poured themselves drinks and sat down. Johnny poured himself a glass and downed it in one gulp. It was the first drink of tequila he'd tasted since the night he'd been taken to the prison. He felt a warm glow course through his body and started to relax.

Every time someone came into the saloon Johnny's eyes darted up. He was sure Slade's eyes were doing the same.

The sound of music could be heard in the street and coming from the local cantinas.

Val smiled, "Guess the folks in town heard you're here."

"Guess so," Johnny blushed. "Hope nothing breaks up the party."

Scott smiled, watching his brother.

It wasn't long before the doors opened and a man walked in. Scanning the room, the man spotted Johnny. He walked over to the table.

"Madrid," the man said.

"I know you, mister?" Johnny drawled not looking up.

"I was in Nogales with you," the man stated.

Johnny looked up at the man and smiled, "Thanks for the help."

"Da nada," the man answered. "Just thought I'd let you know there are a lot of us here that were in Nogales with you. Still, consider ourselves watching your back. There are a couple of gunhawks at the saloon across the street that weren't in Nogales. They're talking about calling you out. Just thought you should know. You need any help just let the rest of us know."

Johnny took his hat off and tossed it onto the table in front of him. "Thanks. I appreciate it. I can handle it now myself."

The man turned and went to the bar.

Johnny looked sideways at Slade. "Slade, why is it they always want to call me out? Why not pick on you for a change?" he drawled.

Slade took a drink of his whiskey. "Guess they figure they can't take me and go for second best," he grinned.

"Second best?" Johnny laughed.

"Come on, amigo, I'm hungry," Val finished his drink and reached for his hat.

"Let's get Murdoch and then find something to eat," Scott said as he pushed his chair back.

Johnny went to the bar and paid for both bottles.

They walked out onto the boardwalk, Slade in the lead. They hadn't gotten halfway to the hotel before they heard the all too familiar word.

Madrid!

Johnny sighed and turned to see two men standing in the street. He glanced at Slade and shook his head.

"You all know to stay out of this," he said looking at Scott and Val.

Johnny squared his hat and walked out into the street.

"You want something?" he asked in a voice that could only be Madrid.

"You know what we want," one of the men growled.

"One at a time or both of you at once?" Johnny asked.

The men smiled, "Both of us."

Johnny smiled. "Your dime, your dance," Johnny said as his entire being was transformed into Madrid.

This was the first time Slade and his men had seen Johnny completely as Madrid. The transformation was unnerving. Gone was the teenager they had spent the last few weeks with. Johnny's features had grown hard and cold. His blue eyes darkened. He relaxed his shoulders, and his right hand settled beside his holster.

The street became silent, as did the cantinas. People spilled out onto the boardwalk to watch. Scott squeezed Val's arm as he watched his brother prepare for the gunfight.

Johnny waited for the 'tell,' and then he drew.

Honestly, it wasn't much of a contest. Johnny took both of the men down in a split second before either of them completely cleared leather. Johnny walked over to the men and kicked their guns away.

Confirming both were dead, he turned to the boardwalk. He looked at Tate. "See what I mean Tate. Been in town less than an hour and already killed two men. You sure you want my life?"

Scott walked over and put his arm around his brother's shoulders, "What do you say we clean up and rest a little while before going to eat?"

Johnny just nodded and let Scott guide him back to the hotel.

Once upstairs Scott opened the door to his and Johnny's room. He stepped aside as Johnny went inside. Scott looked down the hall to see Slade and the other men going to their rooms. Slade looked at Scott but didn't say anything.

Scott looked behind him at the room occupied by Bryant and Lambert. They'd watched the gunfight from their window. Neither man said anything. Scott moved to Murdoch's door and started to knock when he saw Val follow Johnny into their room.

Scott took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Murdoch was stretched out on the bed when he heard the knock. "Come in," he said as he sat on the side of the bed. "Are we ready to go eat?"

He looked at Scott and froze.

"He's alright," Scott said before his father could ask.

"What happened?" Murdoch watched as Scott sat next to him.

"Gunfight," Scott said softly.

"But he's alright?" Murdoch asked making sure.

"Yes," Scott answered.

"There's more isn't there?" Murdoch steeled himself.

"There were two of them. He took them both at the same time. Neither one even cleared their holsters. They never got a shot off," Scott said as he relived the moment.

"I need to go to him," Murdoch was pushing himself up.

Scott caught his arm. "Val's with him. Give him a few minutes."

Murdoch nodded and placed his head in his hands. He looked sideways at his oldest son. "They never got a shot off? He's alright?"

Scott nodded.

...********

Johnny entered his room and threw his hat on the bed. Walking to the window and looking out, he hissed, "God, I hate this." He turned when he heard the door open, and Val walked in.

"You need anything?" Val asked as he took a seat in the chair in the room. He leaned back and stretched his legs out and waited.

Val knew Johnny would talk when he was ready and not before. He'd done this before; sat and waited while Johnny let Madrid fade away.

Johnny just shook his head and continued to look out the window.

Murdoch waited almost an hour and couldn't wait any longer. He stood up and gathered his gun belt and hat and stepped into the hall. Bryant and Lambert stepped out from their room.

Murdoch walked next door and knocked on the door. Val opened the door, and Murdoch stepped in. Johnny was seated in a chair near the window.

"I know you're probably not hungry, but you need to eat something," he said as he walked across the room and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. Johnny looked up at him and nodded.

He got his hat and stepped into the hall. Scott was leaning against the door frame. Slade and the other men suddenly crowded the hallway.

Johnny put an arm around his brother. "Come on, Boston. I'm going to take you to a place that has the best tamales in Yuma."

"The last time you said you were taking me to the 'best' of any food it almost burned a hole in my stomach," Scott frowned.

"I'll tell them to make it mild for you," Johnny laughed.

Scott frowned.

"Come on, Jack, you can handle the hot tamales, can't you?" Johnny smiled.

"We going to Rosita's?" Slade smiled.

"Yep, best tamales in Yuma," Johnny grinned.

The men made their way out of the hotel and onto the boardwalk.

Johnny and Slade walked side by side leading the way. People moved out of their way as they went. They both knew it wasn't out of respect; it was out of fear. Neither man cared.

...********

As they made their way to the boardwalk, Murdoch pulled Val back. Scott stopped to stand beside them.

"Do you still feel he's going to settle in at Lancer when we get home?" Murdoch asked Val watching his son walk away.

Val shook his head and rubbed his chin, "It's going to be harder than I thought. The longer he's Madrid, the harder it's gonna' be to reel him in when the time comes."

"What are you talking about?" Scott looked between the two men.

"Val and I are concerned that your brother isn't going to want to stay at Lancer once we get home," Murdoch answered. "Until this trip, I hadn't realized what his life had been like. The longer the trip lasts, the larger the persona of Madrid grows."

Scott smiled. "Don't worry about him staying," Scott said as he watched his brother. "The problem you're going to have is reminding him who calls the tune. I've noticed in the last few days that he's getting his confidence back. I wouldn't be surprised if we don't see a battle of wills between Slade and Johnny soon."

"Slade will slap him back in line," Val laughed. "We'll just have to wait until we get home to see how we're gonna' handle bringing him down to earth."

"Well, good luck with that," Scott laughed.

...********

It took them almost two weeks to travel from Yuma to San Diego and then north through Temecula and into Bakersfield.

The final 150 miles from Bakersfield to Lancer took less than three days.

They arrived on the ridge overlooking Lancer the first week of December. Johnny and Scott sat on horseback looking down on the hacienda.

"Jack, this is Lancer," Johnny said as he waved an arm out in front of him. "Most beautiful place in the world."

Slade stood in his stirrups and looked around at the vista in front of him and whistled. "Can see why you want out of the game."

Johnny and Scott looked at each other and grinned. "Race you," Johnny said, and they were off.

Down the hill, through the arch, and up to the front of the house.

Murdoch was yelling behind them, "Boys, slow down."

Vaqueros and ranch hands were riding in from all directions. Teresa and Cipriano were standing in front of the house with smiles on their faces.

By the time the wagon reached the house, there wasn't one person who either lived or worked on Lancer that wasn't there to greet them.

Val and Slade dismounted and walked around to Murdoch. The ten gunfighters were being treated like conquering heroes.

Murdoch shook Cipriano's hand and hugged Teresa. Scott and Johnny stepped back and looked at the home they had left nearly three months earlier.

Vaqueros were taking the horses to the corral when Murdoch leaned over Cipriano and whispered something to him. The Segundo nodded and started moving the hands back toward the corral.

Scott moved to stand next to Murdoch and Val.

Johnny turned to look at his brother wondering where he'd gone. He started to take a step toward the house when he heard a loud voice.

Madrid!

Johnny's heart leaped to his throat. His Madrid mask slid into place as he stopped and turned with his hand on his gun butt. He saw Slade and all ten gunfighters standing side by side. He thumbed the loop off the hammer of his gun.

"Slade?" Johnny's questioning voice every bit Madrid.

"Job's over Madrid," Slade's voice showing no emotion. "We're calling you out."

Johnny looked at each of them not knowing what to think. His eyes had gone cold and hard.

"You're calling this dance," Johnny drawled. "How do you want to do it? One at a time or all of you at once?"

Slade let a smile cross his face. The others, however, had gone a little pale.

Scott couldn't contain himself. He bent over laughing. Val soon followed. Slade had told them earlier in the day what he planned to do.

Slade and the ten gunfighters held up their hands.

Slade was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. "Whoa, Johnny. We're just funnin' ya. We just wanted to know what it would be like facing down Johnny Madrid. Gotta' tell you I'm glad I've never done it. Hell, that look of yours made me want to piss my pants."

The others started laughing while Johnny still held his Madrid glare on them. "I don't know, Mr. Lancer, that look is right scary. I can see what Val meant; he scared the hell out of me," Tate laughed.

Johnny still wasn't laughing. His eyes were cutting through each one of them. Everyone stopped laughing watching Johnny's stone-cold face.

"John," Murdoch stopped laughing and stepped forward.

Johnny let Madrid slip away, and a grin crossed his face.

"Gotcha'," he started laughing. "You fellows don't know how close you came. Hell, I thought I was about to lose 11 of my best friends."

"Wasn't sure you knew we were joking," Stewart grinned.

"You wanted to face down Madrid. Figured I'd give you your money's worth," Johnny smiled.

"Johnny, you really think you could have taken us all?" Bonner asked.

"Never had a doubt," Johnny's voice had gone soft and low; the smile slipped off his face.

"Glad we'll never know," Stewart laughed and slapped Bonner's back.

"Come on, fellows. Let's drink some of the old man's best whiskey. He's buying," Johnny waved them forward.

Everyone moved into the Great Room.

"Jack, you and all the men are welcome to stay here as long as you want. If anyone wants a ranching job you've got it," Murdoch said as they each accepted a glass of whiskey.

Murdoch walked over to the safe and opened it. He'd made arrangements while he was in Phoenix to have the bank in Green River give the money to Cipriano. He took out $5000 and walked it back to Slade. "I must say, I don't regret one penny of this."

"$5000!?" Johnny looked at his father like he was crazy. "I never got that kind of money in all the years I was hiring out."

"That was for 11 of them, John," Murdoch shook his head. "Scott and I feel you're well worth it and more."

"$5000 is too much. You already gave me a $500 retainer," Slade said as he took the money and looked at it. "Feel kinda' bad about taking any of it," he said sipping the whiskey. "Feel like we're taking it from family after all we've been through."

Johnny stepped up and started to reach for it. "Well..."

Slade pulled it back smiling. "Said I felt bad about taking it. Didn't say I wouldn't take it."

"Consider the extra $500 a bonus for putting up with Johnny for the last nine weeks," Murdoch laughed.

"I kinda' grew on you, didn't I Jack?" Johnny laughed.

Slade gave him a sideways look and a smile.

"Supper is almost ready, Murdoch," Teresa stepped out of the kitchen. "Since there are so many of us, we're going to eat outside."

"Boys, wait till you taste Maria's cooking," Scott said as he began to lead them outside. "You fellows may want to take lessons from her."

"Jack, there is room for all of you either in the house or the bunkhouse. No one sleeps on the ground tonight," Murdoch said as he made his way out of the house to the garden.

Johnny walked outside with Slade. "Jack, I meant it back there with Butler. I trust you. I trust you with my life and my family. So that you know Jack, you have four people you can trust to watch your back...Murdoch, Val, Scott and especially me.

EPILOGUE

Madrid had crossed the border six months ago. Alejandro Sanchez had taken command of the Rurales in Nogales the next day.

He was pleased to say his first duty was to execute Colonel Vasquez. He'd taken great pleasure in watching the coward die in front of a firing squad. Although, in his mind, the firing squad had been too easy a death for the man.

Vasquez had failed in his duty to stop Madrid from crossing the border. Sanchez was still furious. Madrid had killed both of his brothers and his cousins.

He was also furious that the government decided not to place a reward for the return of Madrid to Mexico.

It hadn't taken Sanchez long to take it upon himself to hire men to go after Madrid. He'd waited a long time to hear from his men. Finally, he'd gotten information that Butler, Hanson and the men with them had been killed trying to capture the mestizo.

He'd been furious. Still, he sent two more men that he hadn't heard back from as yet. If they failed, there would still be another if need be. He had plenty of money. He would keep hiring men until one of them brought him Madrid. He smiled thinking he would make sure Madrid paid for what he'd done.

Alejandro Sanchez walked out of the cantina and started to his home. He didn't see the man standing in the shadows. He'd gone several feet before realizing someone was following him. Stopping, he turned around. He didn't recognize the man standing behind him.

"Who are you?" he asked letting his hand rest on his pistol. "What do you want?"

"Hear you've been looking for someone," the man in the shadows said in a soft low voice.

"Who would that be?" Sanchez asked straining to see the man's face.

"Johnny Madrid," the man replied.

"Si, I have been looking for Madrid. I will pay you to bring him to me," Sanchez's eyes gleamed.

"You'll pay me... to bring Madrid... to you?" the man took a step closer. "You sent men to bring Madrid back already. You sent Butler for Madrid. You know Butler's dead. You sent Hanson. You know he's dead, too. Matter of fact, Alexandro... all, and I mean all the men, you've sent for Madrid are dead. That includes the last two you sent. It's a pretty risky job trying to bring Madrid back alive. What do you plan to do with Madrid once you have him?"

"I plan to kill him. I plan to kill him very slowly. He will beg for death many times before I finally end his miserable life." Sanchez hissed. "You said the last two men are dead also."

The man moved even closer. The light from the street now made his face partially visible.

"Who are you, senor?" Sanchez didn't recognize the man in front of him.

"I'm the man who's gonna' kill you, Alejandro. I'm gonna' kill you just like I killed your two brothers and Ramirez and his uncle. I'm gonna' kill you just like I killed Hanson and his men. You're gonna' be as dead as Butler and his men. Just as dead as every man you've sent after me," Johnny stepped fully into the light.

"You... Madrid," Sanchez hissed. "I will make you beg for death."

"No, Alejandro," Johnny smiled as Sanchez took a step backward, "Madrid don't beg."

Sanchez reached for his gun but froze as a bullet hit him in the chest. He felt his heart explode.

Johnny holstered his gun and stepped back into the shadows. He turned and quickly walked to the next street. Seeing Barranca's golden coat shining under the lamplight, he stepped forward. Jack Slade handed him the reins.

"You get it done?" Slade asked.

"I got it done," Johnny took Barranca's reins and swung up into the saddle. He dipped his head and looked at Slade. "Didn't feel as good as I thought it would."

"Never does, does it," Slade said. "What do you say we head back to Lancer? I told your Pa I'd get you back in time for the roundup. I sure don't want him mad at me again," Slade smiled.

"You're not afraid of my old man are you, Slade?" Johnny asked with a slight grin on his face.

"Hell yes, I'm afraid of him. Man's big. He could snap me like a twig. You afraid of him?" Slade answered seriously.

"Me? I'm ... well, yeah," Johnny answered with a smile. "He does kinda' scare me sometimes."

"Thought so," Slade laughed. "Come on, let's ride."

They turned their horses north and didn't look back.

~end~

TBC in The Charade