A Beginning
Part 4
"I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure.
I make mistakes; I'm out of control, and at
times hard to handle.
But if you can't handle me at my worst,
then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."
Marilyn Monroe
'Dios, but these people are driving me loco,' Johnny Madrid Lancer peeked around the half- closed door of the tack room. 'They ride herd on me day in and day out, drivin' me crazier than a steer on locoweed'.
Closing the door he smelled the rich scent of tanned leather, polish and horse sweat. He had been here at Lancer for four days... and nights.
Pulling out a crate to sit on he lowered his lean rump on top, nimble fingers pulling strands of leather strips apart then beginning an intricate braid.
It was mindless work, but it was better than listening to his 'big' brother read some moldy old 'classic', whatever that meant. On the other hand, his father insisting they play checkers or some other game, games Madrid did not play games.
Oh then let us not forget the 'ladies' of the house, T'resa clucking like an old mother hen.
His 'angel' Maria with sponge baths, nightshirts some kind'a long underwear, oh no not for this Chico, hell would freeze over first.
As his fingers wrapped the leather he grinned, his little deception was simple, just fall asleep. He knew Murdoch and Scott were both on the range, Teresa was in her garden tillin' or plantin' or some such stuff and Maria was over seein' the laundry, something that took all morning.
Slip down the back stairs, slip into the barn... no one would be in here at this time of day.
He would have been further from the hacienda, but that old sawbones was right... he had lost too much blood and was weaker than a kitten abandoned by its momma.
He could not sit a horse let alone ride 'im. Regalo was out in the lush pasture havin' himself a good ol' time, he could have whistled and his amigo would have come to him.
It would have also alerted his keepers to his whereabouts, and he was enjoyin' himself just fine.
Stopping in mid braid, he lowered his hands; he did relish the attention, care and the honest affection everyone gave freely to him.
They never asked anything from him, Johnny bowed his head and he gave nothing in return.
He could not remember when someone held his hand when he was sick, placed cool cloths on his forehead when he had a fever.
Read to him until he fell asleep, or sat by his bed when he was restless. Why did he shut them out what was wrong with him?
Wiping a hand down his face he felt drained of life, he was tired and he hurt.
Momma had called him selfish once, "you my son are egoista..." Johnny had to ask his mother what that meant, he did not think he was selfish or trying to disrespect her.
They had needed the money for food, just beans and flour and a few vegetables.
Momma needed, wanted, a new pair of slippers so she could dance and find him a 'new poppa'.
He had gone to bed hungry; momma was not home the next morning. Johnny left for work feeling ashamed... he was so selfish.
After his mother died, Johnny had no one else but himself. Maybe she was right... he was selfish and egotistical maybe momma was right.
He was beginning to feel something for these people, but he hid it deep within his heart.
Ok so selfish may be the word, thinking himself better than most 'specially when it came to usin' a gun or plotting the take over of a rival ranch in a range war... yeah Madrid was the best all the way around.
By takin' care of his mother and himself from an early age and surviving border towns when all anyone wanted to do to a mestizo was rid the world of a mistake... he had learned to be cold.
Johnny threw the braided leather onto the counter and stood. Right hand grabbing his left side he felt the pull of the stitches and held lips between teeth until the pain subsided.
Pulling his hand away, he held it up to his eye, damn pulled a stitch... Sawbones Jenkins is gonna get into a real pucker 'bout that.
Come Out Come Out...
"Johnny you in here... come on out brother you can hide but you can't run," Scott Lancer sighed heavily. When he had ridden into the Lancer compound Teresa came running out and flagged him down, hands waving, mouth yapping and one tiny foot tapping a tempo of annoyance.
She and Maria had taken lunch to their charge and found the young man had absconded.
The two furious and concerned women, waving hands and arms, words coming out of mouths flapping in both Spanish and English.
Eyes flashing, hands on hips the women had ordered him to find his recalcitrant little brother and take control of the impatient, impetuous child.
"Come on Johnny you have to be here, I know I've looked everywhere else," Scott stood hands on hips looking into the interior of the barn.
He noticed the old mare, Mabel, now retired from any hard work groomed, fed and bedded down with fresh straw.
Even Bo, the old dog had a bath; his little brother had been busy this morning. Doctor Jenkins and Murdoch Lancer will not be happy; in fact, they may do as promised and hog-tie the boy to his bed.
Swiveling his head at the sound of a squeaking door he noticed movement at the tack room.
In long legged strides, he was there in seconds pulling on the door, feeling just a slight resistance he yanked and a lean body came with the open door, "Well brother you have the women in an uproar."
Johnny held onto the door to keep from falling flat on his face. Showing weakness he could not afford, even though these people were his familia, it could mean his last second on earth.
Turning his face up to look into his big brothers eyes Johnny gave him a smile... it showed the innocence and mischief of a child, "Hey big brother how was yer day?"
Scott had his own smile, annoyance, and 'not buying it', "my day little brother has been wrought with hard work, sweat and cows."
Putting an arm over his brothers shoulders, as much for support to his weaving sibling as for control, he began to pull his brother from his hiding place, "You my willful, obstinate little brother will have a much harder day by far when..."
Scott took his free hand and counted off on his slender fingers, "Maria, Teresa, Cipriano, Murdoch and Doctor Jenkins gets their hands on you."
Tightening his grip on his brother, "and that does not include myself... we little brother will have a talk after you face the music."
Time to Pay the Piper
Murdoch Lancer was prepared to march right upstairs and insist his tenacious younger son explain to him why he decided following Doctor Jenkins order or his was not as important as his foolish trip downstairs and into the barn.
Scott merely handed his irate father a glass of Scotch whiskey and deftly maneuvered the man back to the chair by the fireplace, "perhaps a cooler head will have cooler words, sir."
Murdoch found himself sitting by a nice fire with a half glass of whiskey in his hand and his elder son standing in front of him, "wha... what?"
Scott, smiling turned to fix himself some liquid calm. Pouring a generous amount he turned back and sat in the opposite chair, "I believe it would be prudent on both our parts that we have cooler heads to address the situation of your son, my brother before irreparable harm can be done, don't you agree sir?"
Murdoch sipping the dark liquid nodded.
"Good," Scott sat back and crossed one leg over the other, "I am also quite sure the good doctor will have a few choice words to say to our wayward family member."
Murdoch looked over to his son, his older very bright son, "you are right... I tend to forget Johnny may be only seventeen but he has a much older soul."
Wiping a hand down his face the rancher sighed and looked at the crackling fire, "I... if only... oh I wanted both my sons home," gulping down the last of his drink Murdoch stood.
"I knew where you were and what I had to do to get you home," crossing to the liquor cabinet he held up the decanter and tipped it to Scott.
Scott shook his head and kept his silence, his father never really talked about the past as much as Scott thought he should.
Murdoch poured a generous amount into his glass. Replacing the stopper and setting the glass decanter back on the table he turned, took a sip and walked to stand in front of the fire.
"I only had to pay out money and fight lawyers to have you back Scott," with a smile and a wink to his elder son, "it was worth everything and more, I would have given this all up," he gestured with the hand that held his drink to encompass everything that was Lancer, "to have you beside me."
Taking a sip Murdoch turned back to the fire after raising eyes to the ceiling as if he could see his younger son, "but..."
Scott finished the thought, "but there was Johnny and a dream you had of Lancer."
Bowing his head the older man nodded, "I wanted so much to leave a mark in this world, a legacy to endure for generations,"
Turning from the warmth of the fire, he once more took his seat, "but I would have given all of it up just to have my sons beside me."
A calm silence fell between the two men as they sipped excellent Scotch and waited for Sam Jenkins to appear as they prayed the younger Lancer son did not have his gun nearby.
A scuff on the stairs had both men standing.
Patience is a Virtue
The Lancer men watched as Sam stood in the doorway of the great room, spectacles in hand, white handkerchief polishing the glass lens and the grey head shaking side to side.
Replacing his glasses and folding his kerchief into his jacket pocket, he looked up but not before the smile on the wrinkled face and the laughter in his brown eyes hid behind a serious expression on the now stoic face.
Looking at the concerned faces of Murdoch and Scott, Sam slowly walked over to join the two men.
Looking directly at his old friend, "Murdoch my stalwart friend you will have your hands full with that one."
Scott stifled a chuckle, "would you care to join us Sam," he laughingly asked as he turned to pour a liquid glass of calm for the beleaguered doctor.
Sam smiled back, "a full bottle would just about take the edge off, thank you Scott."
Sam explained how his young patient had torn two stitches, started bleeding and managed to get the wound infected.
Rubbing a finger down his nose Sam looked up at the Lancers, "he will run a fever, if I remember correctly that boy could burn up one minute then poof," Sam snapped his thumb and middle finger together with a loud click, "all gone."
Murdoch nodded as he sipped his drink, "used to keep me and his mother up all night."
Growing quiet, he then smiled remembering a night so long ago, "then just as the cock crowed and the sun chased the moon from the lightening sky that boy would sit up in bed, grin and say, "Johnny hambriento Poppa".
Scott was listening to his father talk about a cherished memory of happier times. Taking a sip of his own calm, he fervently hoped they would make many more happy memories.
Swallowing a chuckle with the liquid Scott thought of his little brother... if the boy survived that long.
Hard to Handle
Scott heard the retort as his booted foot left the top step of the long staircase to plant itself in the second floor hallway.
His stride widened as the bumps and thumps and cursing grew in intensity. Reaching the room where all the noise was coming from he stood framed in the doorway to his little brothers room.
Maria had one end of the sheet and Johnny the other an intense tug of war was in progress.
The family housekeeper kept a hearty hold on her end of the sheet with rapid-fire Spanish words tumbling from her mouth.
The family's irrepressible younger son had a death hold on his end of the sheet a spew of Spanish giving as good as he got.
Teresa standing in a corner, hands over her mouth and tears of laughter in her eyes looked from the battle of wills to the tall blond elder son, eyes growing wider as Scott felt a strong hand on his arm which gently pushed him to the side and a large body strode past.
With a booming, "What's going on up here," within the silence was a muffled chuckle from Sam, a yelp from Teresa and heavy breathing from the combatants.
Scott was very astounded; he had never been witness to such a physical battle of wills in all his days. Living with a brother, this particular brother was going to be such an adventure... he was trembling with excitement.
Murdoch bit his bottom lip, "I could hear you from downstairs. Would some one explain to..."
Both combatants began to speak together in Spanish, waving one hand in the air as the other hand kept hold of their portion of sheet unwilling to give up the battle.
Murdoch held up his hand, "silencio, Maria you first por favor."
The hardy housekeeper drew in a deep breath, "Juanito is mugriento, he goes outside he has hay, horse hair and other things he needs banarse."
Johnny pulled tighter the sheet when Marias' hold slackened, and grinned as the older woman frowned at her charge.
"Been givin' myself a bath for a long time, don't need no momma hen ta scrape tha dirt off. 'Sides havin' an' audience ta gawk at my privates," Johnny threw the words at his father, Maria, T'resa, Sam and his smirking hermano.
Murdoch's head began to pound as he pressed two fingers to his right temple.
He had to be the patron now, handle this situation with tact and diplomacy. The resulting fall out with the wrong decision could mean no dinner from one and a pouting sick child from the other.
Walking over to the housekeeper he gently removed the sheet from her strong hands, "I appreciate what you are doing I know we both remember our little Nino, but we must also realize he is no longer un bebe. He has grown into a very independent, stubborn young man."
Maria looked up at her patron and nodded as tears leaked from glistening brown eyes, "si patron, I missed mi Nino... I only..."
Murdoch wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the woman who had survived his grief and sorrow from his loss of two wives and sons.
She was his anchor; she had never given up hope of the two Lancer sons coming home.
As he walked Maria to the door he whispered into her ear, and what he said made her smile, "Si patron this I can do for Juanito."
" 'Nuther thing, if she," Johnny quipped from his bed, now content to have the protection of the thin sheet pulled tight around him and pointed to Teresa.
"She needs ta learn ta knock 'fore comin' inta my room, an' waitin' til I say its ok. I don't sleep in no night shirt or long underwear... get my drift," Johnny's eyebrow went up over one blue eye and a smirk on his full lips.
Murdoch turned to his ward, "Miss Teresa you will knock before entering either of the boy's rooms and you will wait for confirmation."
The young woman nodded and allowed her guardian to escort her from the room of her newest brother, "I only wanted to help and make sure he had everything."
Patting her slim shoulders, "and I am sure your brother will appreciate that when he feels better and more settled. Now go to Maria she has a project I set her to do and you can assist."
Teresa turned brown eyes up to her guardian now wet with unshed tears, "alright but if Johnny needs something..."
Gently pushing her out of the bedroom and seeing her on her way, "I am sure that your brother will find a way to let you know, thank you darling."
Watching as his father closed the door Johnny now had three unmoving men to contend with... 'Well,' he smiled to himself, 'I can always just shoot 'em."
Three determined men stood arms crossed over broad chests, frowns on lips and condemnation in one pair of brown eyes and two pair of blue.
Putting his most charming smile on his lips and gratitude twinkling in his blue eyes Johnny smoothed the sheet over his bare chest, "Hey thanks Ol' Man... whooee couldn't shake them women offn' me," looking at the doctor and throwing in a grin for effect, "Doc thanks fer tha new stitches, feels real good."
Bowing his head then tilting it to look at his brother, "Gracias mi hermano, lo siento you had ta see me so... ah indisposed an' yer helpin' me up to my room, muchas gracias."
Looking at no one in particular, "guess I'll..."
Pulling the sheet aside Johnny attempted to scoot off the bed until... "John Lancer you move that skinny butt off that bed and you will be lying on your stomach for a week."
Scott watched as his little brothers blue eyes grew wide as saucers and his mouth gapped open.
Murdoch moved forward with Sam beside him, "Sam is going to recheck those stitches then young man you will remain in this bed the remainder of this day."
Johnny was about to spout off a few choice border town curses when Scott stepped forward a finger over his lips, a shake of his blond head and caution in blue grey eyes.
Pulling his lips instead into a pout Johnny let Sam undo the fresh bandage the doctor had just ten minute ago secured.
Sam was none too gentle as he examined his handy work after eliciting a sharp intake of breath from his patient he smiled, "you are one lucky young man, no damage was done."
Johnny knew his father or brother had not seen the evil smile on the doctor's face as the sawbones poked and prodded his still very tender side.
Sam saw the anger appear in the brilliant blue eyes he remembered so well in a two year old toddler, "just remember this," as Sam leaned closer to his ear, "I can cause pain or joy we... all of us here, care about you boy, we will not let you be your own worst enemy, understand John?"
Johnny nodded and bowed his head; he did understand he just could not figure out why.
Hard to Handle
Maria stood watching the patron and his younger hijo 'talking', leaning towards each other as one or the other made a specific point.
"Ya veo que vamos a tener problema," Ciprianos voice came from beside her and she nodded, "Si mi primo un muy grande problema."
As Cipriano and Maria watched, Johnny threw his hands in the air, turned and stalked off.
Murdoch stood hands on hips, then crossed them over his broad chest then they fell back down to hang at his sides and as a last act he threw his hands into the air as Johnny rode from the barn on Walt's horse.
Cip touched his cousins shoulder then moved past her to stride over to stand beside his patron and friend, "Juanito does not take to orders very well, si?"
Murdoch, hands on hips once again, "I just don't know how to talk to that boy."
Cipriano nodded, he himself had four sons as well as a daughter. "It is very hard to know just what to say and when to say it."
Murdoch watched until his son faded into the distance, "with Scott I had no trouble at all. He would listen first then..."
"Ah," was all Cip said, "Senor Scott he was brought up this way, his abuelo raised him with respect and a firm hand. Juanito he had not this guidance. It is hard enough for a boy to grow strong and survive in the border towns."
Cipriano turned to his friend, "for our nino it would be almost impossible."
Seeing the confusion in his patrons face, "Juanitos blue eyes and his brown skin mark him as," Cip hated the derogatory word 'mestizo', "mark him as different and unwelcome by both Mexican and Gringo."
Murdoch nodded, "I understand the boy did not have many choices, has had to close himself off and take charge of his own destiny."
Looking once more where his son had ridden away, "how do I tell him to let go, be my son, Scott's brother to let us help him?"
Placing a work strong hand on his friends arm, he gave a gentle squeeze, "perhaps if you do not tell him, but show him how familias love each other unconditionally let Juanito take the first step around the wall he has built for protection."
"You are a good friend Cipriano wiser than me it would seem in handling an unruly child," Murdoch clasps his hand over his friends, "I'm just not sure if I can be a father to the boy."
Cipriano patted his patron's shoulder, "I had to feel my own way with each of my ninos."
Taking on a concentrated look, "each child was different from the other, Pablo I only had to look at him, Raul and Tomas only had to be told once. Now Roberto was my problem child the trips to the wood shed wore me out... we finally settled on an understanding."
"How Cip, how did you work it out," Murdoch was intent on learning anything about how to fix his own problem child.
Walking side by side, "Roberto's' hermanos talked to him helped him to see and understand that rules were a part of family."
Pulling open the barn door, the two fathers entered the cooler interior, "I don't know how to be a father," Murdoch sighed.
Cipriano laughed, "My poppa told me, 'Mas vale tarde que nunca.' (Better late than never.)
A Little Insecure
He did not know where he was going, he did not know the area, he did not know what his feelings were, he was confused, scared and did not know his place in the world today.
'Madre Dios,' Johnny pulled back and allowed the lathered horse to cool down. "Lo siento caballo, let's go find a nice cool shade tree and let you rest."
Johnny could have kicked himself to next Sunday for the way he treated this animal. He always took extra care of his animals his mad had nothing to do with this poor horse.
He found just the spot a big old spreading tree with a small creek and lush grasses, perfect.
Removing the saddle, he led the horse to quench his thirst, "come on fella that's enough for now."
Using some rope he found in the saddlebag, he made a hobble for the front hooves, 'don't wanna be on foot', and let the animal graze.
Spreading the saddle blanket out to dry he wandered to the creek, folding himself down to sit cross-legged he watched the water meander over the sandy bottom.
He thought back on the start of this day, the visit of Doc Jenkins and the removal of the stitches. Warnings about taking it easy, slow rides, no heavy lifting rolled off Sam's tongue effortlessly.
Johnny still held it against his father for the bland meals bitter teas and other vile tasting stuff Maria and T'resa brought him.
That is why Maria did not try givin' him any more baths and when T'resa knocked she waited to enter.
Grinning he remembered a time or two he never said anything and she kept knocking and waiting til Murdoch came up to see what all the fuss was about.
He told the Ol' man he musta' been dozin' and didn't hear. Dios they all thought he was just a kid, well he hadn't been a kid for years.
What did he feel for these people, he knew Murdoch Lancer was his blood father, but he did not know him.
Scott, brother he had always wanted, but what did the man think about a gun for hire for a little brother and why did it trouble him.
T'resa was not a blood relative, however many thought of heras Murdoch Lancer's daughter therefore his sister. He had seen the fear in her eyes as she looked at the gun hanging in the holster on his headboard.
Maria, he had seen the woman worry her rosary and make the sign of the cross as he lay in bed.
What did it matter to Johnny Madrid if these people were afraid or untrusting... but it did.
He stood as the horse he had ridden nickered a greeting to an approaching horse and rider. His hand going to his gun butt, then stopped as he recognized the rider... Scott.
Johnny watched Scott dismount, he had never seen anyone so straight and precise not a move unaccounted for, what was the story behind that.
He wanted to know his brother, why would someone of obvious education and fancy ways end up in the still Wild West on a cattle ranch.
Could he would he stay long enough to find out the secrets of his hermano.
Scott slowly dismounted; he knew he was still a fish out of water. His ways instilled by the socially correct upbringing of an upper class society and the strict military training of time spent during a horrendous war.
When he first stepped foot on Lancer he knew he was home. He had made peace with his father long ago as a young man fraught with insecurities and anger and now he had a brother.
Ground tying Charlie he smiled at his brother, "you know little brother Walt would be within his rights to have you hung as a horse thief."
Johnny shrugged shoulders and grinned up at his brother, "been there once or twice," with a flash of mischief in his blue eyes, "neck ain't been stretched yet... course there's always a first time."
Bowing his head Johnny kicked at a stone that had sat by his booted foot, "I'll make it up ta 'im," looking up, "tha Ol' Man send ya?"
Scott came to stand in front of his little brother and did a quick evaluation of the younger mans state of well being, "no, not so much as telling me or even asking me to. However our father was upset and concerned when you rode off in a huff."
Johnny wandered over to the base of the tree and lowered his lean haunches to the ground, Scott following, sank his lean body to sit beside his brother. Legs straight out, ankles crossed and hands clasp in his lap, "do you want to tell me about what set you off little brother?"
Johnny bowed his head and concentrated on his fingers as they turned a twig repeatedly, "Ya know I been on my own for a long time", with a slight chuckle, "even before my momma died. Guess you could say I was tha man o' tha house since I was eight or nine. 'Til momma found me a new poppa 'till I had ta grow up fast or get lost in tha world of guns and all sorts of ugliness in tha world... least in my world."
Scott nodded, what did he really know about his little brother, his little brother who was, is, Johnny Madrid, infamous gun for hire.
Scott cleared his throat, "you may not know, but our father had Pinkerton agents try and find you and even though they never actually found you..."
Scott had to stop and laugh, "The agency was very put out about, 'losing one small child' ... by the way they refunded part of Murdoch's money and labeled your case file a failure to complete."
Shifting to look directly at Johnny, "we never gave up hope that you would one day come home," grinning Scott continued, "and boy did you ever make an entrance."
The younger Lancer shrugged his shoulders and smiled up at his big brother, "yeah well that's Johnny Madrid, never do anything half assed, make a stand and stick to it."
Scott waited while Johnny collected his thoughts, being a good listener the diplomat in him waited.
"Scott I don't trust too easy and I don't know Murdoch or you... I want to but... Well I had ta put up walls around my feelins' keep my head clear of distractions; it was a way to survive."
Johnny leaned back against the tree as much for support as a release of tensions, "I want to belong, to finally find mi familia to be a part of making something of this land... but I don't know how."
"Johnny," Scott's voice was soft and held concern for his troubled little brother, "family means that we accept who you were then and are now. We will not judge you but help you to become a part of this family. A family's love is unconditional; if you are unable to respond in kind... we can wait... we can wait."
Johnny grinned and a twinkle in his blue eyes sparked a smile in Scott, "so little brother does this mean you are coming home and you are over your mad?"
"Yeah, I'm comin' back," standing he brushed the dirt from his backside and held a hand down to help his elder brother up, "gotta go face tha music of tha tune caller and beg forgiveness of Walt," with a snort, "and Maria and T'resa and Cipriano. Dios I been a regular ol' porcupine jus' hope I didn't ruffle too many feathers."
Scott clapped a hand to his brother's shoulder, "nothing that your charm will not mend. Come on brother... I've got your back."
Johnny smiled, "thanks brother, got a feelin' I'll be needin' all tha help I can get. Since it would be bad form ta, shoot my family guess I will need a helpin' hand and a friend at my back. Muchas gracias mi hermano."
I Make Mistakes
As the Lancer brothers rode thru the arch, Johnny made a few decisions, one he could not show how much he still hurt from the healing wound, no weakness. Two, don't back down keep the Madrid facade in place. Three, don't show that he was beginning to care, he may not be here long enough and he didn't want to hurt them... Dios it was too late he did care.
Mierda he was in for it now, not only was his father standing there waiting, so was Doc Jenkins and Cipriano.
Well ok, they wanted ta dance he would play them a merry tune, no fear Madrid, control.
Throwing his right leg over the pommel Johnny slid to the ground, Walt strode up to stand in front of the patrons younger boy he nodded to the young man and held out his hand.
Johnny was shame faced and nodded back at the Lancer ranch hand, "he's good fella... got good heart," as he handed over the reins.
Walt smiled, "yeah I like 'im he's a good cowpony." As Walt turned Johnny said in a low drawl, "gracias, Walt, I meant no harm."
Walt grinned back, "De nada, come on pony lets get ya rubbed down."
"Hey Walt I can do that for you," Johnny called.
"Thanks Johnny, I got 'im think you got more important matters ta attend to," Walt called back as he led the pony to the barn and much needed bedding down.
Johnny turned back to the three men waiting very calmly it seemed... too calm if you asked him, "Hey Doc, Cip... Murdoch. Whooee Walt sure got him a good cowpony 'course I really should be helping..."
"The only one needing help is you John," Sam was not amused by this boys shenanigans; "you realize how tender that healing wound is?"
Johnny held back a smile, 'this was too good an opening to let slide', "oh yeah Doc I truly do, but I had worse."
"Son we were worried about you," Murdoch wanted to take this boy and shake some sense in to his adolescent head.
"Ah Murdoch, been takin' care o' myself for years. I'm right as rain, this little thing won't hold me down," Johnny was pulling it off he was in control.
He was... in control... until T'resa and Maria joined the group.
His 'sister' flung herself into his arms and hugged him tight, "Oh Johnny, I'm sorry if I did anything to make you mad... I didn't mean to, I just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed. Please don't leave. I want my big brother here."
Pushing her gently back he put a finger under her trembling chin, "you gonna shed a tear for me querida," as he lifted the tear stained face up to his. "I won't go," with a smile and blue eyes full of caring, "now go blow yer nose."
Teresa stepped away from Johnny to nestle herself under the protective arm of Murdoch. Maria approached slower, hands wringing head bowed, "Juanito, lo siento. I want only the best for you."
Johnny pulled the older woman into his arms, he was new to this show of raw emotion, but it just felt right to hug this woman to him, "No madrecita, it is me to ask forgiveness of you. I have a lot to learn about familia and caring. Por favor with your guidance you will teach me?"
Maria nodded, placed a work worn hand on her ninos cheek, "si I will teach you. Make you to see how much you are loved."
The happy housekeeper smiled and moved back, "you now come into the hacienda I have tamales and beans..."
Teresa quipped, "and a big sweet desert with your name on it Johnny."
The two women leaned into Johnny and each kissed a cheek, Johnny bowed his head his emotions getting the better of his control.
Cipriano stepped up, "come see me manana, I have some caballos for you," then waited.
Johnny looked up into the face of the Lancer segundo, "I remember you bought me food that first night, sat and talked to me like un hombre."
Bowing his head his Madrid control nearly gone, "I guess I need a bit more advice," looking back up, "If'n you got a bit o' time ta help me?"
Cipriano smiled and planted his work worn strong hand on Johnny's shoulder, "Si Juanito, I will be here for you as will su familia."
Giving the shoulder a shake, "but Chico you must allow us to help and you must accept... si?"
Johnny, emotions taking complete control, nodded, "si, gracias mi amigo I will listen, only por favor, do not give up on me."
Pulling the boy into a hug was something the big Mexican wanted to do, just as he would do one of his sons. However, his was not the place or time, "I will do this," grasping the shoulder he made the young man look up at him, "I am a Poppa too, you may ask mi hijos what I do to unruly children."
Johnny smiled, "si, I get yer drift... gracias for the warning."
Patting the shoulder of the patrons younger son, "bueno, now see me in the morning we will pick out a new caballo for you to ride."
As he moved away, he tossed back over his shoulder, "we do not wish to hang a horse thief on Lancer land, this we have not done in many years."
Johnny chuckled to himself, looking up now into the face of his father, "Murdoch..."
"John," the older man answered, "I think it's time we sat down and had a discussion."
Johnny nodded, not really wanting to have a discussion with this man who was his father. Father it sounded good in his head it invoked images of caring, unconditional love and a loss of the Madrid control.
He had lived so long in control of his life could he, would he be able to live under rules and a time schedule.
To allow some one else to tell him what to do, when to do it and how to do it, he just was not sure of how he felt about that.
He so wanted to be a part of something, something good, to build a life that extended beyond tomorrow, he wanted the love of family.
Scott cleared his throat, "I'll leave you two alone, and make sure Maria and Teresa have everything ready."
Before turning and leaving, "Johnny you and me will have our own discussion after dinner, understand little brother?"
Johnny nodded, "si mi hermano, I understand."
Sam could see the boy was holding his side, so the little bugger was in pain. The obstinate, bull-headed, impetuous boy... no not boy, after all the younger son of his friend has been through you could not really call him a boy.
Smiling to himself, unless you wanted to get a rise out of the young man you did not call Johnny Madrid a boy.
"John I will check you out before dinner," Sam sent a silent message to Murdoch, who in turn nodded.
"I'll follow Scott and see if I can wheedle a cup of hot coffee out of the ladies of the house. " Turning and looking at Murdoch, "not too long, the both of you."
Johnny swallowed a lump in his throat; he was alone with his father. Dios he had no control left... him Johnny Madrid who faced gunfighters, range wars and ruales with no fear, now faced his father and it scared him.
He was startled when a giant hand fell onto his shoulder; dios he was slippin' he never let anyone get one up on Johnny Madrid.
"Son let's go sit here on the patio," he had also seen what Sam did; the boy was done in but too stubborn to show it.
A low rumbling chuckle surprised Johnny, his father was laughing.
"Come on son, your old man needs to sit down... not as young as I used to be," Murdoch lead his son to the chairs set out for enjoying the outdoors.
Johnny looked at his father and allowed himself to be steered, "Dios Ol' Man you aint so old yet, bet ya got a few more years left."
As the two men found chairs to their liking Johnny nearly jumped up and away from his father as the older man turned his chair around to position it directly in front of his son, knees touching... 'Dios,' Johnny swallowed hard.
Murdoch saw it in his son's face, the boy wanted to jack rabbit. Why, what did the boy have to fear from him? Well he would soon have the answer, "relax John, I haven't bitten any ones head off in years."
Johnny gulped once then nodded hands clenching and un-clinching in his lap.
Murdoch smiled and patted his boys' leg, "when you were almost two we had a similar discussion, you sat on my lap and looked up at me with such puppy dog eyes, I didn't have the heart to reprimand you.
You however dealt with the problem directly and bucked up looked me dead in the eyes and told me... 'Johnny bad, Johnny know Poppa tol' him no go in with caballo, Johnny do it, lo siento Poppa'.
"With your mother looking on I had to be the father and you had disobeyed an order to protect you, son I loved you so much..."
Murdoch waited until his son had lifted those brilliant blue eyes to look into his concerned eyes, "I love you just as much now if not more. The rules I give you are meant to protect you not take away your independence," with a chuckle Murdoch added, "even then you were so independent. If you fell you just popped back up, wiped off the dirt and or sometimes blood and carried on disregarding concerned parents."
Seeing the surprised look on Johnny's face, "oh yes son you were no different then than you are now, full steam ahead and damn the consequences."
Johnny's hand fisted and he hit his thighs and glared into his fathers pale blue eyes, "No some of that may be true but I ain't that baby no more, I lost any trace of John Lancer early on."
Johnny's face became a battleground of conflicting emotions, "Momma told me you didn't want me... all my life... why, what did I do that was so bad you didn't want me?"
He held up a hand as his father shifted and opened his mouth to speak, "hear me out first; you may want ta tell me ta just hit tha road and never come back."
Johnny bowed his head; Murdoch wanted to put a hand to that silky black hair, so much like his mothers but held himself in check the time would come.
"Murdoch I done some bad things, and don't say, 'I didn't know better, I was just a kid,' I ain't been a kid since ya found me down south, I was near grow'd then."
Looking up, blue eyes locking with his father's eyes, "I planned on payin' ya back for all that ya did, I wasn't runnin' out on you... but Momma needed me. I figured when she found someone to keep her then I would find you and repay..."
"Son," Murdoch's hands grasp his sons' knee, "If I had known then what I know now, I would have tried anything to keep you with me."
With a pat on the knee and a smile on his face Murdoch sighed, "Your mother was as independent as you, mi hijo. I knew after you were born, she never settled into being a rancher's wife and a mother. Her foot always tapped to a different tune than what I played."
Seeing the bowed head, once more Murdoch placed a large gentle finger under Johnny's chin and lifted his sons face, "but son I loved you, as much as I loved Scott."
"You were here and he was back East getting an education. Therefore, for a time you had my undivided attention... and son I loved every minute. Why your mother decided to leave I could almost understand... but to take you knowing what a child of mixed heritage would face in Mexico..."
Johnny nodded, scorned in the towns he lived in with his mother, smiling, that was until Carlos Montoya Riviera took him under his protection and only then because of Momma.
The man had only feelings for Maria, but he grew to respect the boys' ability with a six-shooter.
Carlos would never admit it but the boy was very, very good and in a short time no longer needed his protection from anyone.
Johnny spoke low, Murdoch leaned in to hear every word, "Carlos taught me how to protect myself an' I got to like the power it gave me over people. I was good with my gun and proved it when I was fifteen... my first gun fight."
He did not want his father to hate him for being a killer, he also did not want the man to get the wrong impression that he was anything else, "I... Murdoch I got a thrill out of facin' a grown man in tha street, the dance with death gave me a, a rush... I couldn't lose. No one could touch my speed and accuracy with a gun. Now, I never started a fight, but I never backed down an' ifn' he deserved ta die I helped him along."
Murdoch looked at Johnny, to him he was still that dark haired toddler running roughshod over every one on the estancia and demanding notice.
Johnny becoming a hired gun, gunfighter, land pirate, but still his son, still someone who needed... no wanted a second chance.
"Son," his voice strong, not betraying his feelings in its timbre, "When I couldn't look for you I hired Pinkerton agents to track you down, after a time they found you and your mother in Mexico City, I couldn't leave for another year, by that time you and Maria just vanished."
Johnny nodded, "yeah ol' Carlos was good at hidin', tha Pinks would never have found him."
Murdoch searched his sons face, "I want you to know I may not condone some of the things you have done, but I also want you to know I will help you anyway I can to make you a part of Lancer."
Waiting for a sign of rejection, accusation or just plain indifference he had not prepared for this hardened son, a gunfighter of some notoriety to lift blue eyes filled with unshed tears.
With a tremble in his soft drawl, Murdoch heard the words, "I wanna try, and I'm tired of all tha killin' and loneliness, Pa can I come home?"
Murdoch closed his eyes, his own tears dampening his cheeks, his strong hands trembling now with unsuppressed joy, clutched at his boys knees, "son I have waited a very long time to hear you ask me that."
Johnny felt the strong hands of his father press into his knees, 'Dios the man was strong', he looked up through wet eyes into eyes just as equally wet, with a small smile and a twinkle in his eyes, "you know Ol' Man I carry a lot of baggage and some of it not too pretty."
Murdoch looked at his son, hardened by a hard life but blessed with a soul untarnished by the ugliness he had to endure.
"John I see the truth in your eyes, and I believe in second chances for everyone. We as a family, you, me, Scott and Teresa will get through this. Son the world can be an ugly place with ugly people."
With a pat on Johnny's knee, "we are Lancer's and Lancer takes care of its own."
Standing Murdoch put a hand out to his strong, vulnerable son, "if I know Sam Jenkins he's fit to be tied, best go face the music."
Johnny stood and looked up to his father, blue eyes filled with mischief a slight smile turning up one corner of his lips, "think ya could forgive me ifn' I put a bullet into tha old sawbones?"
Throwing an arm around his sons' shoulder, he pulled him towards the hacienda, "I've wanted to do that very same thing once or twice. Sam's the only doctor within three towns and once in a while we just may need him."
Johnny gave a sigh then a laugh, "yeah guess you're right."
Johnny tapped his father's stomach with the back of one hand, "I gotta habit of trouble followin' me," glancing up, "sure ya still want me... gonna be a big doctor's bill."
Murdoch tightened his hold on his son, "I guess I could start docking your pay and keep it in an account marked, 'Johnny trouble'."
With a troubled look on his young face Johnny sighed, "Well guess my pay will be light for some time."
A pensive look scrunched up his forehead, "wonder how much Scott wants ta be a big brother."
Father and son both looked up to see the man in question standing patiently at the patio doors, "well son only one way to find out, stay long enough to ask the man himself."
Johnny smiled as father and son moved past Scott, Johnny grinned up at his big brother, "hey brother... guess you're gonna be stuck with me for a while."
Scott hesitated to answer; his little brother was up to something. If it was one thing he had learned from his grandfather, Harlan Garrett, it was how to read a person, especially when that person had something up his sleeve.
He smiled to himself and turned to follow his father and brother into the hacienda... oh this was going to be an interesting bonding of brothers.
The Worst and the Best
Johnny endured the ministration of Samuel Jenkins, MD, as well as the fluttering, fussing and tender loving care of the women of Lancer.
He lay in his bed all nice and comfee, a sheet pulled up to cover his lean, naked body, 'thank you very much'.
It was early to be lying in bed, but Sam insisted, Murdoch scowled, Maria and T'resa fussed and Scott just shrugged his shoulders.
So here, he was, tucked up like some kid with a tummy ache, he smiled, he liked it, and it felt right.
A quiet knock on the door, "yer house come in." Johnny shouted out as the door opened and a blond head poked around the door, "thought you might be asleep little brother."
Johnny sat up and scooted back to lean against the headboard, "nah, just tryin' ta make everyone happy," bowing his head he looked up from under a fringe of dark hair, "'course I was feelin' a bit peaked."
Scott pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed, arms folded over his chest he made his own assessment of his baby brother.
"Well you don't look too worse for wear, seems you do know when to stop. I was afraid I would have to keep you on a short leash." Scott gave his brother a big smile as he shifted in the chair trying to find a comfortable spot for his lean rear.
Johnny folded his own arms across his chest, "Well ain't that what big brothers are suppose ta do?"
With a saucy grin Johnny continued, "'course ya gonna have ta have longer legs ta keep up with me, big brother."
"You know you being so old an all," Johnny had to add a chuckle at the look on Scotts face.
"Scott?"
"Yes Johnny."
The younger man watching as his fingers pulled at the sheet "thanks for wantin' me ta be your brother. You know I done things that ain't too nice, that I took other men's lives and I ain't as refined an' mannerly as you."
He looked up from his fingers as they clutched the sheet, "I hope you kinda' help me learn those mannerly things."
Scott smiled at his fidgeting younger brother, this was not the legendary Johnny Madrid but his much younger, vulnerable, lost little brother, John Lancer, "I would be glad to teach you which fork to use and how to.. Ah... dress to attract less attention."
Johnny smiled, "Now there big brother I gotta draw tha line, I like my clothes just the way they are. "Cides I get remarks 'bout tha way my pants fit from tha ladies."
Scott nodded, "yes I can see that, but ah pink shirts?"
Johnny gave a wide grin, his eyes flashing with laughter, "You know any other man who could pull it off? Ain't no one ever complained ta Johnny Madrid 'bout a pink shirt, an' those that did wish they never had."
Scott held up two hands, "alright brother I can see your point."
A serious look came over Scotts face, "Johnny, I am glad you are home... I've missed you brother."
Johnny looked at Scott, "But you never knew me."
"I knew I had a little brother out there and I wanted him with me. Now here you are and we have a lot of years to make up for," Scott smiled and stood to go.
"Scott," Johnny turned serious eyes to his brother, "somethin' you need to know. I don't suffer lyin' and deceit. I put it all out there so somethin' ya might tell Murdoch. Just this, ifn' ya 'can't handle me at my worst, then ya sure as hell don't deserve me at my best'."
Scott nodded, "I'll do that little brother. Now get to sleep before I have the wrath of Murdoch and Sam down on my head."
At the doorway, Scott stopped hand on the door and turned slightly to face his brother... 'God he looked so young to have survived what he went through,' "Johnny we don't mean to be so... restrictive, but we all care about you. Give us the time to make this family grow strong, trust us to do what is right and forgive our transgressions."
Johnny nodded then looked up, laughing blue eyes, "Yeah an' Amen ta you too Scott."
Scott made as if to come back to the bed, "You imp, wait until I get you out helping to string fence. We'll see what the infamous Johnny Madrid is made of."
"Well brother, it aint Johnny Madrid that'll be layin' that devil wire, it'll be Johnny Lancer an' I aint too sure 'bout him yet myself," Johnny snickered at his brother.
Scott smiled as he left the room, "all in due time little brother, all in due time," as he closed the door.
Johnny yelled out, "It ain't polite ta mumble so's one can't hear what ya said."
Slipping back into on the soft fluffy mattress, he pulled the clean lavender-smelling sheet up under his chin.
A contented smile on his lips and one word sighed out as exhaustion took over his consciousness, 'home'.
At Long Last
Murdoch opened the door to his youngest sons' room; the moonlight gave enough light to see.
Johnny was half on half off the bed, the sheet twisted just enough to modestly cover the ... ahem... important parts of his sons' anatomy.
His dream was nearly complete, he had his boys' home... and by God home, they would stay. Johnny was much too young, so... Murdoch smiled he would concentrate on Scott.
In his minds eye he could see his grandchildren, rolling around on the great room floor in front of a peaceful flame in the fireplace.
Closing the door to Johnny's room the rancher smiled, 'yes Scott, now how to work around the quiet, private young man.
Opening the door to his own room Murdoch shook his head, so much to do to put the finishing touches to his legacy.
Closing the door tomorrow would be here soon enough. He would sleep and the answer would come to him... after all, his granny told him he had a smidgen' of second sight.
Johnny's blue eyes matched his grandmother's eyes in the same hue, deep probing all knowing eyes, the Lancer legacy becoming real.
What?
Scott woke up sweating and trembling, what a dream... no nightmare that was.
Lying back in his bed, he recalled pieces of the dream; he was standing with Johnny beside him, a cat that ate the canary grin on his father's face.
Then music, a small girl walked up an aisle... in a church... dropping flower petals on the floor.
When someone in white began to walk down the aisle was when he woke drenched in sweat.
The last thoughts in the blond haired man's head were, 'not anytime soon.'
T B C
solista
April 2014