Watching
The day was turning into a right 'beut of a day. It was winter in the San Joaquin Valley and that meant it was cooler at night with just a nip in the air during the day.
Seemed with the cooler air people moved around a lot faster and in more of a hurry, as if there were not enough minutes in the day to accomplish all the 'errands' that had to be done.
With Christmas but a skip and a hop away, the air was charged with energy that seemed to be lacking during the long hot summers.
With all the 'howdy' and more formal greetings being tossed about it was right noisy as well.
A black painted surrey with red stripping and matching tassels was parked in front of the Green River bank. The matched pair of horses in the traces shook their heads and playfully nipped at each other, just like a pair of bored children.
The conveyance was owned by one of the largest ranches in the valley, it told of the wealth and good fortunes of the land owner. Flashy but very practical, everything on the Lancer ranch had a practical use.
Murdoch Lancer was a Scotsman by birth and a Californian molded by blood, sweat and tears. It seemed the man had a penchant for business and put his stubbornness and pride to good use.
In twenty-five years, he had built a one hundred-thousand-acre ranch, ran the finest herd of cattle and was a community leader that many looked up to, be it for knowledge or support.
The sound the teams harness made, had a merry sound to it, almost like jingle bells on a one-horse sleigh.
A tall slender man stopped beside the lead horse and ran a cream-colored gloved hand down the long face, his smile was one filled with joy of memories of a new England winter and deep snow.
Looking up, his light blue eyes watched the man across the street leaning, as if he had not a care in the world, against the upright holding the overhang above the general store.
The hat covering his head was dipped low over his brow, a peak of dark hair showed on the collar of his vivid red shirt. As if the man knew he was being watched, he lifted his head and his dark blue eyes roamed the street and boardwalk.
With a small lift of his eyes, he saw the tall man across the street, and a smile turned the corners of his full lips up. The lines around his eyes crinkled and his sullen face took on that of a young man exuberant and content.
Across the street, the tall man smiled back and gave the horse a final pat. Moving with grace and a somewhat military march he crossed the roadway.
Scott Lancer knew the dark-haired man would not initiate the greeting, so took it upon himself to start, "Johnny."
A full blown toothy grin lit up the face of his brother, "Scott."
The brothers so different in visual looks, one tall slender and blond and the other shorter stouter and dark, stood without another word but comfortable in their proximity.
"So," Scott started, "did you get all your errands finished?"
The slow drawl of his brother answered back, "yep."
Knowing his little brother would not elaborate, Scott began the oratory of his day, taking every opportunity to give the details of his shopping expedition.
Johnny listened to his brother, catching the 'Boston' accent on every other word. He reflected how different they were. Yes, they both had Murdoch Lancer's blood running through their veins, they also carried the coloring of their two very different mothers.
Scott was raised back east in Boston, as he, himself, was raised on the borders of Mexico and the United States.
It was a long story, but what mattered is that the three men, Murdoch Lancer, father, and Scott and Johnny, the sons and brothers were together now and somehow it all seemed right.
"And then," Scott continued as Johnny kept a grin on his face, "she had the audacity to question my expertise on…", tuning out the drawn-out tale of his big brother, Johnny glanced across the street as the bank doors opened.
A petite young woman stepped over the threshold, Johnny ducked his head then smiled, more to himself than anyone else, Teresa his 'think of me as a sister', was as beautiful as kind and caring. She cooked, cleaned 'mothered' them all.
Teresa O'Brien was indeed a force to be reckoned with. Since day one, she accepted her role as 'sister', friend, confidant, nurse and mother hen, 'and' baker of the best chocolate cake in the valley.
Following right behind her was the tallest man Johnny had ever seen since coming to the San Joaquin Valley. Murdoch Lancer, rancher, patron, community leader and father to three. Bowing his head once again he noticed the silence of his brother beside him.
"I would never had thought our father was the size of a giant with the voice of a bear and a heart as big as California," Scott softly spoke, placing a gloved hand on his brother's shoulder.
Johnny brought his head up and tilted it towards Scott, "I never knew he had a heart, till a short time ago."
The brothers smiled the same smile, as Scott patted Johnny's shoulder and Johnny gently backhanded Scotts taut stomach, a sign that they understood each other.
Murdoch Lancer leaned down to his ward, 'daughter' then glanced up. His pale blue eyes took in the sight that took his breath away, his sons, standing together, shoulder to shoulder.
His sons, lost for twenty years. With a dry swallow the big rancher took a deep breath, a slight shiver shook his big frame. His cold heart nearly lost his boys again, he had built walls around himself so he couldn't be hurt, but the walls came tumbling down, but not without protest; and now it seemed the three 'strangers' would become a family.
Teresa glanced up at Murdoch, her guardian and 'father'; turning brown eyes she sought what the patron was watching. A smile pulled her lips and a sparkle filled the deep depths of her eyes, "Scott, Johnny," without thought she stepped off the boardwalk, her eyes only on her 'brothers'.
A trio of shouts stopped her dead in her tracks, the blur of a big brown body swept by her just missing her by mere inches. Her heart stopped beating, then began a gallop within her chest. Placing a small gloved hand to her breast she bent over to catch her breath. For just a second her world had disappeared.
She felt Murdoch behind her, big strong hands on her shoulders.
Scott was beside her, a firm gloved hand on her arm and Johnny, bending down to look her in her face.
With a wave of the hand that she had clutched to her chest, Teresa smiled a crooked grin, "I'm ok, just took my breath away. I can't believe I was so stupid."
It was then that two more people crowded around the young woman, "you alright Miz T'resa," Val Crawford, the sheriff of Green River and a friend to Johnny and now the Lancer clan, looked like he was going to hurl his breakfast, "I done told Matt Brewster if'n he charged that horse o' his through my streets like some howlin' banshee I'd lock 'im up and bar-q-que his horse for supper."
With hands on hips the sheriff looked at the Lancer family clearly shaken by the close call to the young woman's life.
Johnny had taken his hat off and slapped at Val's shoulder, "now you know horse ain't too good as bar-b-que, but I may just give ol' Matt a turn on tha spit."
Johnny gave Teresa a sly wink which did the job of lifting the somber mood, as the young woman laughed out loud.
Sam Jenkins, Green River physician, and only physician for this three-town area moved Murdoch away and placed a gentle hand on Teresa's shoulder, "you weren't hit were you," he asked as his practiced eyes took in the woman for any tell-tell signs of injury.
With a shake of her head, "no, just dried the spit from my mouth."
Scott patted her arm, "Miss Teresa, such language."
Smiling up to her properly raised brother, "well, I'll be a lady as soon as my heart stops beating like war drums."
A smile took over Scott's face, "well, I'll excuse you this time. However, young lady, it would behoove you to look both ways before crossing the street."
Johnny eyed the packages in the back seat of the surrey, turning to his brother, "well Scott it's a good thing we rode in, don't recon you'd even get in that back seat."
Smiling at his brother Scott nodded, "yes it does seem the Lancers have finished their shopping for the holidays and the birthdays all in one day."
The fact all the Lancer men celebrated birthdays in the month of December was a curiosity to Johnny.
Three men, strangers to each other, sharing the same blood in their veins as well as the same birth month was just a puzzle to him. Maybe they were all meant to be together, maybe there was more to this family thing that he had yet to absorb.
Teresa poked Johnny in his ribs and giggled when the ex-gunfighter jumped, "no peeking Johnny Lancer."
Stepping away from her 'brother', "Scott Lancer since you are so fired in a hurry to 'teach' me lady like manners, you may escort me to the café."
Scott smiled down at his 'sister', "certainly madam." Holding out his hand he waited until Teresa placed her small gloved one into his, folding it under his arm.
He paused and looked both ways up and down the street, with great exaggeration, a grin on his lips as his 'little' brother snorted most ungentlemanly, "we may proceed."
Murdoch Lancer dipped his head to hide the smile on his face, "Sam, I must have been in great pain to force me into sending for these scoundrels I call sons."
Sam Jenkins, MD lightly patted his friends shoulder, "and I know for a fact, it was one of your better notions."
Both men's heads came up as the sound of horse's hooves striking the dirt street broke the quiet of the moment.
Johnny stood with hands on hips as Val Crawford, Sheriff of Green River, snorted, "that boy…."
"Doc Jenkins…." the boy, Matt Brewster, pulled his horse up short. Dust billowing around the men and the winded, lathered horse nearly sat back on his haunches.
Before Johnny or Val could physically pull the young man from his mount, Murdoch stepped up beside Sam, "Matt, calm down."
Sam placed a hand on the man's leg, "deep breath, then let it out."
As Matt, nearly hyper-ventilated calmed himself, sat back in his saddle, "it's Pa, he done got throwed this mornin' an' Ma said he ain't woke up yet. Doc Sam, she's pretty worried."
Johnny stepped up and grabbed the halter of the tired horse, "you go with doc, I'll bring your horse later."
Matt nodded, "thanks Johnny. I wouldn't o' run 'im so hard, but…"
"You go on Matt, see to your father," Murdoch nodded to Johnny, "we'll all be out later."
Matt felt better as his second wind caught up to him. He dismounted and together with Sam turned to fetch the doctor's buggy and horse.
Johnny wiped a hand down the neck of the horse, flinging away the sweat, "I'm gonna take Matt's horse an' cool 'im down, then to tha livery and tend to 'im, tell Teresa I'm gonna be a little late for her 'special' lunch."
Murdoch nodded, "you tend to the horse John, Teresa will understand."
It was later in the afternoon when the Lancers returned to the hacienda. The setting sun giving the white adobe a translucent look.
Having stopped by the Brewster ranch on their way home, it was found that Edwin Brewster would be out of commission for some time. Unable to break the string of horses the army had bought, would place the family and small ranch in dire-straits.
Johnny knew that Matt had a weight on his young shoulders and volunteered his services until the horses were green broke.
Murdoch agreed and told Matt and his father that Lancer would help in any other way.
Scott sat his horse deep in thought, with all the buildup about 'doin' it to them before they do it to you', and the barbarism propaganda hog wash about the 'wild' west, he found the west was sometimes more about, 'turn the other cheek,' and 'help your neighbors'.
Here was his 'little' brother, a man who lived his young life as a cold, calculating gun for hire, that, when it came to the end of the string, was just a gentle caring soul who would give you the shirt off his back.
Murdoch Lancer, of course he could have turned his back many times when someone came, hat in hand, for help. Instead the man had a strong sense of community and due to his standing in the valley usually gave more than he had, had returned in favor.
Grandfather was wrong in his summations of Murdoch Lancer and the brutal nature of the west. He was glad he had taken the offer from his father to travel to the 'God forsaken land' which had killed his mother and segregated his father.
He found something the proper manners and popish tastes of the east could not fulfill, a confirmation that all men were created equal, that it was the duty of everyman to help his neighbor, regardless of their station in society.
Teresa smiled up at her guardian, her Uncle Murdoch her surrogate father, and wrapped her arm around his. She shifted as he did whenever he flicked the reins over the backs of the matched pair of horses.
Looking to her left, her breath was once more taken away as the grandeur of Lancer revealed itself in the lush grasses and fresh air of its very existence.
Her life was here, it would always be here. Murdoch and Scott had one time talked of her going east to a fancy woman's college. She put that idea right out of their heads, and Johnny had her back.
The man in question rode up beside the surrey and tipped his hat to her and his father, "well querida, did ya have a good day?"
Her brothers were both so handsome and gentle with her, but Johnny held a special place. For one he was closer in age and he teased her much more than Scott. He also listened, really, listened to her when she expressed her opinion, even if he acted as if she was just a 'little' girl prone to flights of fancy.
Scott, not that he didn't listen, but he was older and tended to coddle her due to her being a 'young lady' and her innocence of the 'real' world.
Murdoch treated her like a loving father, like her father had and so protected her from 'everything'.
"I did Johnny, I had a wonderful day. Too bad about Mister Brewster, but I'll have Maria fix up some things and you can deliver them when you ride over there tomorrow," she grinned at the pout on her 'brothers' lips.
"Oh, it will be just enough to get them by, it will all fit into a gunny sack," she grinned as the pout turned into a smirk.
"Sure T'resa, anything ya want, long as ya bribe me with sumpthin' special at dinner when I get back," he grinned and his eyes lit up like sun on the ice of a blue mountain lake.
How could she resist anything he wanted and Maria was the same, heck, he could get any woman to give him what he wanted with that look.
"Don't let my incorrigible 'little' brother wrangle a special meal for just himself, after all I will also be lending my services to the Brewster household," Scott rode up and displaced Johnny beside the surrey as his horse gently pushed his brother's golden palomino aside.
Tipping his hat with a gloved hand he smiled down at his 'sister'.
"Did you enjoy your day away from the drudgery of the Lancer hacienda," he grinned as Teresa nodded her head and the newest fashion in hats bobbed on her dark-haired head. Having specially ordered it from Boston his sister had squealed as the hat box was presented to her.
"It was wonderful, especially when my family was around me and made me feel like a princess."
A gentle tap on her arm and the strong voice beside her had Teresa leaning into the solid body of her 'father', "and you are our princess. Even if we don't always show it every day. Right boys?"
The two younger Lancers nodded, "yep," Johnny quipped back.
"Most certainly," Scott responded.
Teresa smiled, lips pulled up in a toothy grin she turned her body slightly to face her 'brothers', "I thank you kind sir and Johnny."
Scott held a chuckle behind a gloved hand as Murdoch cleared his throat. Johnny stopped his horse, Barranca, and sat silently in the road. His head came up, "hey," he shouted.
Maria, the Lancer housekeeper, placed her hands on her hips and glared at the younger Lancer son, "Juanito, if I must tell you once more to leave my kitchen," she then let loose a tirade of Mexican proportion.
Scott and Murdoch had pushed open the door into the kitchen, stopped abruptly then turned around and retreated from whence they came.
They could hear a loud "ouch, lo siento!" issue from behind the closed door, then the sound of a pair of bootheels with spurs striking the tile floor hastily depart through the outside door.
"Maria caught him again," the voice behind the two men stopped them cold.
Teresa grinned, "I told Johnny to stay out of the kitchen," with a sigh the young woman pushed past the men, "the nino will never learn." With an after-thought Teresa turned back, "oh, dinner will be late Maria and I are putting the last touches to Johnny's birthday feast in the oven."
The two men looked once more at the closed door and sighed. As if they both thought of something at the same time they grinned.
Scott bowed at the waist and waved his hand, "after you sir."
Murdoch smiled, "thank you son."
Scott followed his father out the front door and around the hacienda.
Teresa and Maria laughed as they saw the men of Lancer hot foot it to the bunkhouse. Cookie would have a hearty stew or soup cooking.
Knowing their men would not 'starve' the women went back to preparing the younger Lancer son with a Mexican feast and a triple layer chocolate cake.
Teresa worked beside the older woman, Maria was like a mother to her and now to the Lancer sons. Pulling a large bowl from the cupboard, "Maria, could you tell me about Johnny as a small nino," a smile lit her face, "was he a good baby?" Maria wiped her hands on the apron around her waist, "ah my Juanito was a perfect bebe, always laughing and running…"
Johnny lay back on the soft sofa in front of the warm fire laid in the massive fireplace, his stomach was full, his sweet tooth satisfied and he was content.
The soft voices of his family lulled him into a feeling of acceptance and love. Shifting as little as he could his socked foot pushed at the thigh of his 'big' brother.
Looking down the length of his sated body he grinned at Scott.
"Comfy little brother?" Scott returned the grin and folded the book he had been reading closed, his long finger marking the page.
Johnny nearly purred, as he just nodded his dark-haired head and closed his bright blue eyes.
Scott had been brought up in the privileged upper crust of Boston society and the time served in the Union army during the war, never prepared him for a family that the three strangers were forging.
The dynamics were so different from the regimental, staid formalities of his upbringing. Children were at best seen but never heard.
Looking way from his little brother, Scott glanced at his sister, and she was his sister in every way but blood. She was intelligent, beautiful and caring.
With a silent sigh, she could be so much more if she would only take him up on the offer to go to the women's' college back east.
However, his little sister dug in her bootheels and wrapped her arms around Lancer and no cajoling or bribery would tear her loose from this land.
Blue eyes moving to the big man reading a newspaper relaxing in the over large leather chair, Scott knew his father had tried to convince his ward to go and experience the world before she married and was tied to a husband and children.
Scott also knew his father didn't push too hard. Murdoch didn't want to lose any part of his family, now that he had them all together under one roof.
With a contented sigh, Scott opened the book resting in his lap, reading the words on the page in silence and a smile on his lips.
Teresa lay her magazine to the side and took a deep breath as her brown eyes glanced around the room, the open great room was opulent to some, the floor to ceiling bookcases, the grand fireplace and the heavy furnishings gave the visitor a sense of wealth and good social standing.
However, as a child born in the hacienda on Lancer, growing into a young woman within the boundaries of the land and the protective love of the people; Lancer was home and would always be home.
Pushing herself up from the deep upholstered chair her petite body stood slowly, "well I'm off to bed."
Murdoch looked up from the book his nose had been buried in for the last hour, keeping a large finger in the book to hold his place, he looked up and smiled, "alright darling."
Scott, also placing a slender finger in his book to mark his place, looked up and smiled, "sweet dreams Teresa."
Teresa stood, hands on hips over her sleeping 'brother', Johnny, the 'boy' could sleep through a wind storm.
She also knew you never woke Johnny from a deep sleep without making a noise to alert the ex-gunfighter of one's presence.
In a loud voice and speaking for the benefit of Johnny, "well I hope Johnny's not too disappointed that all my chocolate powder is gone and…."
Before the young woman finished her diatribe, Johnny sat up and glared at no one, wiping the sleep out of his blue eyes, the blue which had taken on a glacier coldness, "who done it…who took tha chocolate."
At the chuckle coming from his father, a cough-laugh from his brother and a giggle from his sister, Johnny looked around the room, not seeing land pirates, highway men or banditos he grinned, "whoa querida ya had me goin' there for a second."
Looking up at T'resa he sheepishly asked, "ya do have more chocolate, si?"
"Si, I have more chocolate," leaning down she planted a kiss on the top of his head, "good night, Johnny."
With a grin and a return to his position on the sofa, "nite T'resa, sweet dreams."
Turning to Scott, she leaned down, to place a kiss on the cheek of her older brother, "good night, Scott."
With a smile and gentle blue eyes, "good night Teresa, pleasant dreams, sweetheart," he watched as the young woman moved around towards his father, with a grab and a shake of his brother's foot, now pushing into his thigh, he returned to his book.
Murdoch's heart melted at his little family's dynamics, his son's, home at last, his 'daughter' an important part of the Lancer household, Lancer legacy was assured.
Teresa stood beside the large leather chair of her guardian, every night that the man had been home she had bent down and kissed the solid cheek, a ritual since she had been a small child, "good night Murdoch."
The act gave the young woman a sense of security, of love and contentment. The soap and after shave Murdoch used every night engulfed her, with a quiet whisper, "I love you."
Murdoch gently grasped Teresa's small hand, looking up into the large doe-brown eyes, "I love you to, darling. Sweet dreams princess."
With a final glance, and a smile at her family, Murdoch strong, her brothers protective and her father forever in her heart, Teresa was content.
Soon after Teresa's departure Murdoch cleared his throat, closing his book and placing it on the side table, "Scott you want to wake your brother and…."
Scott smiled and folded closed his own book, "yes, it is getting late," with a shake of Johnny's socked foot, "let's get you to bed, little brother."
Johnny gently kicked out with his foot, connecting with his brother's thigh, "alright I'm movin'," sitting up and swiveling his leather clad butt around his socked feet hit the floor and he stood in one fluid movement.
Without any fanfare or lengthy conversation, "nite Murdoch, nite Scott," Johnny left the room.
With knowing and indulgent smiles the two older men looked at each other.
Scott stood and face his father, "good night Murdoch."
Looking at his elder son, Murdoch felt his heart beat faster, God the boy looked so much like his mother, "good night Scott. Sleep tight, see you in the morning, son."
Alone, he had been alone for far too long, the return of his missing sons banished the coldness and darkness of the silence and loneliness.
Standing, with a swift and loud 'crack' from his back, the patron stretched, "rode hard and put up wet," he spoke to an empty room.
Banking the fire, checking the doors and blowing out the lamps, Murdoch Lancer made his way to bed.
His house secure, his family safe he said a quiet thank you to the Man Above.
Christmas was in a few days a time of hope, peace and love. A time for families and good friends to come together and reflect on the reason for the season.
Merry Christmas to All
And to All a Good Night.
RIP Mr. James Stacy, our Johnny Madrid Lancer.
12/18/2016