Not With My Ol' Man part 2

by solista

One thing you never do is misuse Johnny Madrid Lancer's family.

Not With My Ol' Man

Part 2

The sound of the rocking chair as it rode the dusty wooden boardwalk gave Murdoch Lancer a chill, the cup of coffee in his hand shook just a little.

One broad shoulder leaning on the post outside the hotel kept the older man propped up when his legs wanted to shake with fear.

Not fear for what was to come, but fear that he may lose his younger son once more to Madrid and the past.

One more sip and the rancher sighed to himself, the past always here and now for his young son.

Johnny Madrid Lancer pushed back with his strong horseman's legs and the rocker tipped back, then forward.

It was a tactic he had used in the past, to the casual observer it would seem like the man had not a care in the world, underneath Johnny Madrid was alert to his surroundings, nothing escaping the gunfighter's senses, not even the soft sigh of the man he came to know as 'father', "So tha coffee any good?"

Murdoch's hand jerked just a little spilling a drop of the bitter brew over his large rough fingers as he turned around towards the soft voice of his son, a small smile on his lips, "not as good as Maria's, but a lot better than Jelly's."

Johnny nodded and gave his father a grin, "yeah, but you know Ol' Man, it's gotta be a lot better than Val's fryin' pan coffee."

A frown crossed the younger Lancer's face, "sure could do with a bit o' Val's help."

Murdoch stared hard at his son, was that a note of, 'fear', in the boy's voice, "are you going to be able to handle this…"

Johnny waved his father off and stood, hands on hips head bowed, looking back up to the man who was his father, "no I got it, just I don't like puttin' you in this fracas. Val an' me, well we been here before."

Murdoch took a small sip of his coffee, "you and Val go a long way back?"

Johnny shrugged and leaned on the other supporting column, "yeah a long way."

Holding the coffee cup in both hands, as if a sudden chill sent a coldness through his body Murdoch smiled, "care to tell me a little?"

His younger boy was an unread book, the secrets and mysteries that were Johnny Madrid Lancer lay within the pages of many plots and twists, sighing when Johnny bowed his head once more.

The soft voice had Murdoch listen quietly, "well Ol' Man it goes back to a time I guess was one of my happier remembrances," a small chuckle escaped the grinning lips, "ol' Val now, he found his self in a right pickle an' if a certain cocky gunhawk hadn't come along well…."

Murdoch listened intently as his son told a story no father wanted to hear, his boy in danger and reckless with his own life to save that of a stranger.

The father in him had Murdoch in rapture as his son, who was silent most of the time, did a fine job of storytelling.

Settling his large frame into the vacant rocking chair he sat back to listen.

"This Texas drifter fancied himself as a gun for hire, oh he was fast enough, and sure ta hit what he was aiming for but he wanted more outta life," with a chuckle and a grin, "yeah I know what you're thinkin' Val Crawford wantin' more out of life."

Murdoch looked up at his son, his baby boy, "and what about you mi hijo."

Johnny shrugged and looked at the mud ground into the wood of the boardwalk, his eyes shielded as he looked into his father's eyes, "at that time in my life I didn't want anything more than a reputation and what that meant to a cocky, mestizo gunhawk."

Murdoch rocked back in the chair and nodded, "I'm not condemning son, I just want to know who you are."

Johnny grinned, "well to most back then, I was Mister Madrid, even though I was way younger in years than most o' tha men that hired me, but savvy to tha business of runnin' a range war."

Murdoch gripped the edges of the chairs arms, "you were good at your job."

Johnny nodded, "yep. An' that's what these good fine upstandin' citizens need ta get 'em out of this fandango. Ol' Pernell he's cold as they come an' mean. Gettin' up in years, he needs a sweet little town he can run. Found one here, getting' tha sheriff outta his way, he'll come back with a pack of dogs an' no one young or old will be safe less they bend to his tune."

Murdoch gave his younger son a smile, "and we all know how, you my son, will not dance to just anyone's tune."

Johnny tilted his head and grinned back, his father had loosened up in the short time since the ex-gunfighter decided to be a rancher, brother and a son, "yeah, those dance steps are getting' easier ta follow."

Best Laid Plans

The meeting was taking place in the Banyon parlor, much to Mallory's protests, her father would be participating in the defense of his town and people he swore an oath to protect, and this was, 'no time for mollycoddling,' as she had been gruffly advised.

In a huff, Miss Banyon set the tray with coffee cups and cookies on a side table, as Mrs. Biggs carried in the coffee pot. Johnny moved a porcelain knickknack to the side as the older woman lay a heavy dishcloth on the tabletop.

Smiling as she sat the hot pot down, "thank you Johnny, my but your father raised a son with nice manners."

Johnny gave a small snort and grinned, "Well ma'am I gotta say it was my momma taught me a long time ago."

Murdoch frowned at his younger son, "Johnny grew up in Mexico with his mother, not at Lancer."

Johnny noticed Murdoch's face take on a pained looked as Mrs. Biggs rearranged the plate of cookies and nodded, "well never the less, your father seems to have a steady hand on you," as the older woman straightened and turned to face the gunfighter, "as all young men should have. Well everything looks to be set, I'll take my leave."

Calling over a shawl clad shoulder, "Mallory you call now if you need anything."

"I will Mrs. Biggs, thank you," Mallory's last words fell on the closing door.

Johnny knew the innocent banter of Mrs. Biggs had upset Murdoch, and now knowing the truth of his mother's abandonment of her marriage he felt a little upset himself, "hey Murdoch, it's all good an' I'm glad you're here ta watch my back."

The rancher looked at the bowed head of his son and smiled, "well since your brother is not here I'm glad to be here too."

With a smile and a spark in his blue eyes Johnny lifted his head, "well I can think of a few places I'd rather be."

With a returned grin from Murdoch the proud father said, "me too son, me too."

Murdoch Lancer pulled a hand down his face and then crossed his arms over his broad chest, glaring at his son who had the audacity of throwing a wide grin his way. This was not how he would have handled things, certainly the fiasco with Day Pardee had shown his so independent son that he could hold his own.

The 'sheriff' though, supported by pillows on the sofa, looked sheepishly between the two men as the others in the room shifted feet, bowed heads, looking anywhere but at the big rancher and the cocky gunfighter.

Johnny rubbed his hands together, turned quickly away from his father and with hands in slim hips, "ok that's settled then," when no one offered a word on the subject except a harrumph from Murdoch, Johnny proceeded, " Clive.."

The hostler looked up at his name, "Mr. Mad... ah I mean, Johnny?"

"That big old storage room under your hotel, you sure that escape tunnel is still open?"

Nodding once, "yes Johnny, I just checked it myself, goes right on to that stand of trees, where the horses and wagons will be waiting."

With a curt nod, "ok, then let's get this fandango underway," Johnny watched as the men complied.

Ignoring his father, Johnny pegged Paul, the banker with an icy blue glare, "you understand that men are gonna die out there in your perfect street, dontcha?"

The banker swallowed hard and his own blue eyes had to look down away from the cold blue of the gunfighters, "yes, Sir Mister Mad…Johnny. To bring peace back to this town, I am willing to kill."

Johnny knew it was hard to kill a man, people thought because it was 'his job' that it was easy, well it wasn't, but he couldn't let these God fearin', law abidin' citizens know that; after all they were counting on him to win.

With a nod, "ok, then you get what men you can find, even if they just shoot in amongst 'em, it'll distract 'em enough."

The banker would be in charge of any men he could find with enough guts to sit up on the rooftops, behind signs and shoot into the street, causing chaos and lots of noise.

Johnny could only hope there would be enough 'men' in this town to want to rustle it back from Pernell.

Jeffery Banyon looked up from his position on the sofa, the boy was good, he thought to himself, too good. Glancing at the big rancher, Johnny's father, Jeff was glad they had found each other but now saddened at what he had asked a friend to undertake.

The plan was good, simple, but good. Clive would have the women and children in his cellar, if things got bad, he would escort the innocent thru the tunnel and into the wagons.

Then they would head to Judson's ranch and come under the protection on the few good ranch hands at the ranch, Murdoch and Judson would clean up any trash that tried to follow.

With a shake of his head, the sheriff sure hoped that Johnny Madrid would take out the trash here with no clean up after.

Watching the two Lancers, now standing toe to toe, the younger having to tilt his head to look up at the elder, he knew Murdoch Lancer was not happy with his clean up detail.

Johnny Madrid was in total control, he had to be if these people, or at least most of them, were going to come out of this alive and ready to rebuild their perfect little town. However, there was one 'big' problem, and that was Murdoch Lancer.

As Madrid, Johnny could sure use a man such as Lancer, the rancher and adventurer, to aim a gun and hit what he was shootin' at, cool under pressure, and stubborn.

However as Lancer, the father to Scott and T'resa, Johnny could not, would not place his father in sure danger with a risk of having to tell his brother and 'sister' how he had let his father get gunned down in the street.

Johnny's cold blue stare softened at the set of his father's granite jaw and defiant blue eyes and had to smile, "dios Ol' Man you sure remind me of someone else."

"And who would that be my son," Murdoch said with a clipped voice and crossed arms.

Johnny crossed his own arms and grinned, "Me."

Murdoch dipped his head and ran a large work worn hand down the granite face, "well son you have me there."

Johnny grinned as he placed a hand on his father's arm, "there ain't no way, I'm gonna go back to Lancer with you in a pine box an' explain how I got ya killed."

Murdoch licked his dry lips and placed both his strong hands on the shoulders of his younger son, with a strong grip, he waited until Johnny looked directly at his face, "son, Scott would know you would have done anything to keep me from getting hurt and Teresa she always wanted siblings and you boys fit the bill. But son, even she would know you did all you could humanly do, they would understand."

Johnny dipped his head and shook it, "yeah, but I couldn't live with it," debating in his head Johnny wanted to end the conversation, but he needed to say more in case….

"Well since comin' ta Lancer I… have more of an understandin' of family. I mean there was always me an' mama, but now there's Scott, T'resa an' you. I, well, I ain't too good with words but I'm glad I came an' there ain't nothin' or no one gonna get between what I got now."

Murdoch wanted to crush his dark-haired boy to his chest to squeeze until he wriggled to get away, just like it was so many years ago, "son, Johnny, I'm glad you came home too, but I am a grown man, I do have some experience in defense of what is mine…"

Johnny pulled away and crossed his arms over his chest, glancing around the small room he was aware everyone tried to give father and son some semblance of privacy, "I know, I know, I can see what it takes to build and keep somethin' like Lancer, but I guess it's like Scott says, it's how I'm made. 'Loyal and protective' he told me once."

Looking back up at his father, "Murdoch I can't do my job if I'm worried 'bout you. It will be dangerous enough if Pernell an' his bunch get past us, but I know I can trust you got my back if needed."

Placing one hand on Johnny's shoulder Murdoch smiled, "always mijo, always."

Nodding once Johnny uncrossed his arms and placed this hands on his gun belt, with a grin at the sheriff, "Okay then let's get this show on tha road."

As the men filed out of the small parlor Johnny came to stand beside the sofa and crouched down beside the sheriff, "Jeff, I know it goes against tha grain, but you an Mallory will be down in that cellar…."

Sheriff Jeffery Banyon pushed up and grimaced against the pain, turning defiant eyes onto the gunhawk, "over my cold, dead body boy, I can sit right there in front of my window and pick off as many of them rabid dogs as I can."

Johnny tilted his head and shifted his eyes towards the door and Mallory. She had just closed the door and turned, "an' your daughter Jeff, if Parnell gets past me, he will come straight here an' it won't be pretty."

Jeff glared at the gunfighter, "Mal will be in that basement, I'd never…"

"I will be where," Mallory stood at the backside of the sofa staring down at her father, "If you think for one minute I will willingly leave your side, then you are very much mistaken, father."

Jeff's face softened as he looked at his daughter, "you are everything to me Mal, and I'll not put you in danger."

Mallory looked to Johnny, then back to her father, "I will be in danger and worse if your friend and the men of this town fail. If," holding up one hand she silenced the rebuttal from her father, "if Judson and Mister Lancer are overwhelmed, well I will still be in danger, I would rather die with a gun in my hand, beside you than cowering like a, a scared girl."

Johnny grinned, "Miss Mallory since I first met you I never thought of you as a 'girl', you are Jeff's daughter, competent, pretty, and tough as nails. Welcome aboard."

Jeff glared up at the gunfighter, "Johnny, there's no way…"

Johnny stood, hands on hips, "your daughter, seems, can make up her own mind. We can use every gun we can get, leas' wise you can control what happens to her if we fail out there."

Jeffery bowed his head, knowing Johnny spoke the truth and nodded, "if we get out of this and can win the day, I don't know how I can repay you son."

Johnny glanced over at his own father, he knew this was hurting the Ol' Man, but this near beaten to death man was a friend and Johnny could not turn his back, "I didn't collect many 'friends' in my gun fightin' days, but I count you as one."

Johnny smiled at his father then turned back to the sheriff, "friends don't gotta pay back nuthin'. Now let's get you situated so I can get ta work."

Murdoch, Mallory, and Johnny arranged the sofa under the window, the rifles, and ammunition gathered and dumped beside the man.

As Mallory tucked a blanket around her father, she smiled up at Johnny, "thank you for backing me up, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try."

"Like I said, you ain't no girl. You're one fine woman Miss Mallory," Johnny touched fingertips to the brim of his hat, smiled, as his eyes danced with mischief.

Day of Reckoning

"Gonna rain 'fore tha sun comes out right proper," the old deputy groused as he dumped coffee into the old charred coffee pot and sat it on the stovetop.

Johnny sighed as he uncrossed his ankles and sat up straighter in the wooden chair. The creak of the wooden joints of the chair the only comment made.

Standing, the ex-gunfighter stretched his arms above his head and with a low grunt bent forward at the waist as his hands went to his lower back.

The old deputy grinned, "tol' ya that old chair weren't too kind ta a man's back."

Johnny's eyes narrowed, as he stood tall once again, then smiled at the old man, 'yeah ya did tell me Ol' Man."

Winnie's lips drew down into a frown, "yep, rode that there chair many a night, ya recon them varmints 'I'll be ridin' in taday?"

Johnny moved towards the window, the jingle of spurs the only answer. Lifting the blue checked gingham curtain his blue eyes looked out on a gloomy morning. Rain, it could make things real messy or give the town an edge against the professional killers, "Well old timer, that sentry they staked out, lit outta here real fast when we started our preparations."

Letting the curtain drop Johnny turned back to the wizened older man, "yeah, I'd say they'll be here today."

Taking two coffee cups from pegs on the wall the old man motioned for the younger man to the table, "guess a good cup of coffee will start tha day right," with a cackle, " 'course I ain't sayin' I make a good pot o' coffee, but it'll make make ya sit up an' take notice."

As the door flew back and banged on the wall Johnny crouched and turned, gun drawn faster than Windom's old eyes could follow.

Mallory stepped back with a gasp nearly dropping the basket she carried.

Johnny pointed the gun to the ceiling, taking his finger off the trigger, "you tryin' ta get… dios woman!"

Gaining control as he slipped the colt back into the worn holster, he turned icy blue eyes to the young woman, "you musta been around your daddy ta know never sneak up on an armed man."

Mallory had also gained control and stepped over to the table in a huff, "well excuse me Mister Lancer." Banging the basket on top of the table she turned, hands on hips, "I was not 'sneaking' anywhere I was bringing you and Winnie some breakfast."

The staring match was in its infancy but the glares that the young woman and man gave each other was about to erupt into a full-blown war.

The old deputy grinned as he looked from one to the other, with a laugh, "well I'll be, never thought I'd a seen it, but there it is."

Johnny broke eye contact with Mallory and icy blue eyes locked onto the old man, "what you goin' on about Ol' Man?"

Windom grinned as he reached for the basket, "Miss Mallory, an' an ex-gunfighter. Boy howdy tha sheriff's gonna…."

Johnny stepped away from the young woman, "you're as loco as ya look ol' man. Ain't nothin' 'tween me an' her."

Windom cackled as he lay the two plates on the tabletop, "Yeah young fella, you keep sayin' it an' someone might just believe ya. Now come on an' eat this looks good."

Mallory stepped around Johnny and smiled down at the older man, "Winnie, you know Mrs. Biggs fixed this up, when have any scrambled eggs I cooked turned out so fluffy and light, and you also know my biscuits can do damage to the side of any barn."

Slathering a generous spoonful of jelly onto a biscuit Windom looked up, "now Miss Mallory how ya gonna keep this here pistolero interested ifn' he knows ya can't boil water."

Johnny crossed his arms across his chest and grinned, his blue eyes dancing, "that right Miz Mal, you can't cook?"

Turning back to the young gunfighter Mallory put hands to hips and tilted her chin up, "I have far better things to do than stand over a hot stove and…."

Making a clicking sound Johnny grinned, "now Miss Banyon I kinda agree with Mister Windom, most men like a woman ta cook an' clean for 'em."

Mallory smiled and moved closer to Johnny, "you an expert on most men, Mister Lancer."

Johnny licked his bottom lip, "nope can't say I am, but if I were in tha market for a wife, well I'd sure hope tha woman can least fry an egg an' boil water for coffee."

"Well aren't I the lucky woman that you, aren't, interested in a woman with a brain and ambition," Mallory stormed past the cowboy, pulling the door opened and slamming it as she passed through.

Winnie cackled as he sipped his coffee, "Whooee son, that there gals got it bad fer ya."

Johnny looked at the older man, "don't look like it ta me Ol' Man. More like we're oil an' water, just don't mix."

Winnie shook his sparse grey-haired head, "boy ya gotta lot a livin' ta do for ya can untangle a woman's mind."

Johnny picked up a coffee cup and sipped the brew, "an' you're an expert on women's minds."

"Nope, I ain't lived long enough either." Johnny and the old man broke out in laughter, then sobered as the thought of the upcoming melee was about to commence.

Somewhere a dog barked but the silence of the small town sounded louder than a full military band. No citizens moving about, no farmers or ranchers coming into town to buy supplies, it was as near to a ghost town as you could find.

Johnny sighed as he took another sip from his coffee cup, smiling as the old timer loaded his plate full of bacon, eggs and potatoes, "you don't scare much do ya Ol' Man?"

Windom looked over at the younger man, and smiled, "not at my age anymore," the smile dropped if he read the young gunfighter correctly, "what's yer reason for those nerves of cold ice."

Johnny picked up a biscuit and took a bite, they were really good; thoughts going to the Lancer cook, Maria, now mamacita could whip up a batch of cloud light biscuits to make your day.

Johnny slowly chewed as he thought back on his short time at Lancer, finding a brother, a 'sister' and a father, "well, old timer, guess if I die today I know I got someone ta cry over my cold carcass."

"Weren't always the way, right son," Winnie looked saddened over the young man comfortable with death.

Johnny pushed his hand into the basket and drew out another biscuit, "nope wasn't always. I mean, I'll really miss bein' 'round my family to be able to hold my brother's kids in my lap, my sister findin' tha right man ta marry an' sittin' every night near tha fireplace with my Ol' Man, but this last year, well it makes lookin' ta dance with death a little easier and more scared"

Windom nodded his old white-haired head, "I hear ya son, don't mind if I say a prayer to tha Good Lord ta see us through this fracas."

Johnny grinned, "old timer, seein' as we 're gonna need all tha help we can get, you go on a pray up a storm."

The two men finished what their respective bellies could hold, for Johnny it wasn't much more than a few biscuits and jam with a good slug of coffee.

The rain remained constant until, "Madrid, get yer carcass out here boy!"

Winnie watched as the young face of his new found friend took on a cold hard façade, then a small smile quirked the corners of his lips, "tha dance begins... you make sure you keep your head down and your aim true, old man."

"Johnny, I… well… hell's bells boy, you take care yerself, got me a bottle of fine rot gut I wanna share with a friend," Windom watched as the ice in the blue eyes of the gunfighter melted just a bit.

"Nothing I like better than a shot of rot gut with a friend."

The Truth of the Matter

"Murdoch if ya don't stop wearin' a path through my wife's carpet I won't watch yer back when she gets on tha war path," Judson eyed his 'guest' as the big rancher stopped dead center of his parlor, "come on an' take this drink and sit down."

Murdoch looked up from where it looked as if he was contemplating his worn boots, realization coming to his stone carved face and blue eyes, "what... oh well thank you Judson I will have that drink."

Judson held out the offered drink, I know you're worried 'bout your boy."

Murdoch nodded as his large worn worn hand took the glass, "oh it's not just worry about my younger son taking on a band of killers, defending a town that won't stand up for themselves risking his life for a 'friend'," Murdoch's sarcastic remark had Judson bow his head in shame, "I just got both my boys back. I haven't had enough time to even get to know them."

Judson looked into the eyes of a worried father, "Murdoch I just met your young son, he seems ta be one hell of a man. To have the stench of 'gunfighter' hangin' over him, he seems a right honorable and loyal man."

Murdoch smiled, "that he is, sometimes I wish he'd care more for the feeling of his family."

Placing a hand on Murdoch's fore arm, holding the glass half way to his lips Judson leaned forward, "man you aren't lookin' with a father's eyes. That boy... young man, sent his daddy away from the fightin' to protect him. I'd call that carin' a lot."

Defiant blue eyes stared back at Judson, "I know that's what Johnny was doing, but I wanted to stand beside him, not hide behind him. If my boy, dies, I won't even be there to hold him in my arms…"

Judson saw the forming tears in the rancher's eyes before the grey-haired head bowed, "faith Murdoch, have faith in your son, have faith that the people of this town will show their true colors have faith that all your son has gone through that the Good Lord will protect him."

Murdoch lifted his head, one silent tear on his craggy cheek, "I have faith in my son's skill, he practically raised himself and survived the scorn and physical hate of being of mixed heritage in one one the toughest places on earth."

Nodding to Judson once, "faith in my son, yes. Faith in the people of this town, that has yet to be decided. Faith in God, well there had to have been someone else looking out for my younger son, where angels dare to tread."

Ross Pernell

"Get on out here boy," Johnny smiled and looked at Winnie, "tha man's getting' a bit riled up at my slow response."

Winnie toothlessly grinned back, "now why do I get tha impression you that's just what ya had planned."

Nodding once, "yeah well I learned if ya get 'em riled a bit they lose some of their edge."

Winnie frowned, "you ever been riled enough ta forget what ya was suppose ta be doin'?"

"Only when my Ol' Man starts ta tear me a new one," Johnny laughed, "now keep your head down, can't be worried 'bout your cantankerous hide."

Winnie grabbed up his shot gun, "you don't gotta worry 'bout me son, been 'round a long time, an' I ain't heard no angels singin' me ta my final rest."

Johnny gave the old man a smile he reserved for family and friends, "let's hope I don't hear no singin'."

Turning Johnny placed a hand on the door knob and turned it opening the door to life or death. Stepping out onto the boardwalk he glanced up at his nemesis and smiled as the rain made the man and his 'friend's look like drowning rats, "Pernell," the voice was soft the smile not reaching the icy blue of his eyes Johnny waited.

Pernell shook his head and the rain pooling on his hat rim sloshed off, "Madrid."

The older gunhawk moved to step down from is horse, "mind if I…"

Johnny's slow drawl stopped the man as he swung his leg over the rear of the horse, "yeah I do."

Righting himself Pernell glared down at the younger man, "now that ain't too kind of ya. Jest wanna talk a bit an' rehash old times."

Johnny felt the rain find its way past his collar and he shivered in the coolness, "we ain't friends enough ta have any old times. I want you and your associates outta my town."

"Your town," Pernell squinted past the rain drops in his eyes to glare at the smart mouthed boy, "since when did you settle down."

A disturbance from across the street caught Johnny's attention, a high pitched female voice, 'dios not Mallory'.

"You let me go, I have to see about my father. You had no right to hit him," Mallory struggled with the man grinning from ear to ear.

"Here she is boss, a feisty little thing. Can I have 'er when ya done," the dirty overweight hired gun held Mallory in front of him, a hand caressing her breast.

"Ease off Creed," ignoring Madrid, Pernell stepped off his horse and grabbed the arm of the still struggling young woman, "settle down girl," glancing at Madrid, "you still got a soft heart when it comes ta pretty girls," Pernell grinned. Johnny's heart did a fast dance of its own. Then he grinned back, Mallory sure was a defiant little thing.

Her face was set, she had been through this before and Johnny was there to see it then, but this time she knew just what to do.

Her father's life was on the line as was this 'gunfighter' she couldn't get enough of. Her eyes locking on to Johnny's she bent her knees and dropped right out of Pernell's hands to lay motionless on the ground at his feet, Johnny whirled into action and hoped those men set around the town was fair enough shots to miss him and Mallory.

With all the gunfire erupting around them, Johnny grabbed Mal with one hand as his other pulled repeatedly on his gun trigger.

Finding safety behind a water trough Mallory and Johnny grinned at each other, as Johnny reloaded, "you done good Mal, just keep your pretty head down."

"Wish I had a gun," she was interrupted as Johnny looked over the trough and began firing.

A bullet whizzed over her head and impacted the post in front of her, she felt useless. As she began to move a strong hand caught her shoulder, "stay down. Where ya think you 're goin'."

Glaring at Johnny as he reloaded, "gotta get back to dad, they pistol whipped him."

"Ol Jeff he got a hard head, you try ta get back to him and he'd have my hide. Just stay put."

As Johnny rose up to return to the fire fight Mallory shouted, "Johnny look out."

The shot from behind went wide as the bushwhacker fell, a bullet in his head. Johnny looked around and saw his father grinning from a secure doorway, now why didn't he think his Ol' Man would stay out of this fracas.

Sporadic gunfire could be heard as men cried out in pain, horses screamed in fright and the rain lessening down to a drizzle.

Johnny had returned to the fight; Mallory finding a gun beside a fallen high rider was making her way back to her home and her father.

Taking a few seconds to reload, "Mal…" looking beside him he sighed, "girl you an' me gonna have a talk, real soon."

Snapping the chamber on the gun back into place, "Hey." the shout had Johnny looking across the street, "we give up."

A bedraggled gun man stood, hands raised, "you win Madrid, this town ain't worth it." Throwing his gun into the street another two joined it. As the gunmen surrendered, the towns people came from their hiding places, rifles at the ready they swiftly took the desperados in custody.

Johnny smiled as he watched the townies marched the three men to the jail, 'well, guess when the chips were tossed one could count on the need to survive to kick in'.

With a frown Johnny's blue eyes darted around the milling horses and bodies lying in the street.

Finding what he was searching for, "seems someone don't take orders too well."

Murdoch approached his son, as he holstered his gun, Johnny could almost say his Ol' Man smirked, "well mijo, as Jelly would say what's good for the goose is good for the gander."

Judson Mathers had taken charge of the 'clean up', nodding to Johnny, "we're gonna owe you more than…."

Holding up his left hand Johnny waved the ranchers entreaty aside, as his right holstered his own gun, "not me ya gotta owe."

Looking at his father Johnny folded his arms across his chest, "hoped ya wouldn't have ta see all this, but I'm glad ya didn't stay back with tha women an' kids."

Murdoch grinned, "Johnny, my son, I was with the women, there was no way they were going to stay away from their homes and menfolk."

Looking at the big man the younger man shook his head, "all this an' they coulda done it themselves."

Murdoch smiled, his tight lipped smile and nodded at his son, "they needed someone to rally them son."

"They needed someone ta give em' a quick kick in tha seat o' their pants," Winnie cracked out, "an' you Johnny give it to 'em right sudden like."

Glancing around the scene of death, "hey, where's Mallory. Dang that woman, I otta…"

"Saw her head to her house," Paul Merritt said as he approached the trio, "looked determined."

"I'll be the one lookin' ta be determined when I catch up to her," Johnny growled as the older men hid smiles behind cupped hand to their faces.

"Madrid!" The shout had the younger man frown as he turned to the voice.

"Pernell, I thought you took one or had smarted up and took off," Johnny's face was empty of emotion as he watched Mallory struggle in the hands of Creed, "you watch where ya put your hands, Creed."

The dirty gunman smiled and showed yellow teeth, a good sign of someone not interested in proper hygiene, "seems ta me, boy, we got tha upper hand," Creed grinned and kissed the side of Mallory's face.

The young woman struggled, but the filthy hands holding her squeezed tighter and continued to roam.

"Settle Creed, just do as you're told," having never taken his eyes off the younger gunfighter, "Madrid, you an' me got a date ta dance."

The Dance

Johnny's eyes never wavered from the face of the aging gunfighter, he could hear everything around him. The town, though armed to the teeth with a firearm of some sort, could do nothing.

This, was something not one of them had ever partaken or even seen, and to Johnny's trained hearing, the silence was deafening.

He heard the soft rustle of clothing as Judson softly told Murdoch to, 'back away'.

Inwardly, breathing a sigh of relief, Johnny was comforted there was someone to keep his father in place.

With a tilt of his head, blue eyes cold as ice, and a smile on his lips, Johnny's drawl was slow and controlled. Pernell had to almost lean forward to hear the younger man, "well now, seems my dance card is open."

Pernell grinned back, "Ain't heard a lot 'bout ya lately, Madrid. Thought you'd gone and got yourself shot or hanged. Been laying up or laying low."

Johnny always did like these little, what did Scott call them, tete-a-tetes.

He could feel a man out this way, goad him into doing something stupid, "Oh I been layin' alright, that sweet thing ya got stashed over in Buckley, she said ta tell ya there was no way she could go back to you after she had me."

Pernell's brows drew together, and his eyes squinted in anger, Johnny could almost hear the grinding of the older man's teeth, "Cassie wouldn't…"

"That's right Pernell, she wouldn't, but then, I am a very charmin' man," Johnny knew the woman Pernell kept had no idea what the gunfighter was really like.

He had met Cassie Edwards once, and she was a descent person, and maybe Pernell wanted to settle down, but he wasn't going to do it at the expense of friends and innocents, "oh but she would and she did, sorry ta say you've had your day in tha sun, and now it's time for you ta just step aside."

"Madrid you were a punk kid back when I first met you an' you're still a punk kid," Pernell ground out between clenched teeth.

Murdoch was frozen to the spot, listening to the banter back and forth between his boy and Pernell. The voice Murdoch heard, devoid of any emotion, was not his son.

Judson could see the turmoil on the face of the big rancher. He felt sorry that this town had pulled the Lancer's into this fiasco and he felt afraid that the young man who had aided them may now die.

Pernell was a dangerous man and a fast shooter, whereas Johnny Madrid, hired gun, had been living as Johnny Lancer, rancher. Judson knew enough about gunfighters, if their edge was lost they would die in the street.

"Yah know Pernell, my belly's startin' ta eat its way to my backbone. Didn't get ta finish my breakfast 'fore your bad manners rode inta town," Johnny shifted his stance and stared hard at the older man, "let's dance or go home."

Pernell grinned, "my thought's exactly boy."

The sharp report of two guns firing had every person jump in alarm.

Gun still held in his hand, Johnny calmly walked the short distance to the fallen gunfighter, he had never felt joy of being the one left standing, relief, maybe, that he had one more day to live.

Life for him was becoming worrisome, he had barely reached his twenty's in calendar years, but he had already lived a lifetime.

"It never gets easier, does it son," Murdoch's voice came up beside him as Johnny slowly holstered his gun, "nope, it never does."

Glancing over to his father, Johnny noticed the gun still held in the rancher's big hand, "you cover my back," he asked softly.

With a slight nod of his head, Murdoch slid his gun into the soft leather of his own holster, "it was the only thing in my mind."

Both men looked up at raised voices, muffled curses and a shriek of pain.

Johnny had to smile when the crowds parted and he saw Creed crumpled in the boardwalk, holding his family jewels and whimpering like a kid.

Mallory standing over the disabled hired gun, a smirk on her face and fire in her eyes.

Winnie beside her holding this shotgun in one hand and rubbing his head under his hat. With a toothless grin he nodded to a group of men to haul the desperado off to the jail.

Mallory looked up from the writhing man and grinned at Johnny. A look of fear came over her face, "Dad," she shouted.

Grasping the material of her skirt she grabbed it up so she wouldn't trip as she ran to where her father had been hurt once again.

Johnny was right behind her, "Mal," he voiced her name, but knew the young woman wouldn't stop until she reached her destination.

Reaching the small house, Johnny stopped his forward rush by grasping the door jamb and stopping just inside the small parlor.

Jeff was sitting up with a wet damp cloth pressed to his cheek, Eugenie Biggs was over him like a mother hen, "now you just hold that there Jeffery Banyon and don't you move one inch."

As the formable woman turned she gave the frightened Mallory a smile, "he'll be fine as frog's hair in a bit dear, he kept askin' 'bout you."

Mallory choked back tears as she nodded, "I know Mrs. Biggs. It will take more than a knock on his hard head to keep him down."

Johnny watched as Mallory sat beside her father on the sofa, crooning soft words as she held him in her arms.

Satisfied that all was going to be OK he turned from the small room and exited the house.

Standing on the porch of the little yellow house the ex-gunfighter fisted hands on his slim hips and took a deep breath, grinning at the large man approaching, "well Ol' Man, don't know 'bout you, but I need a hot bath and a clean bed. Then after a night's rest, I wanna go home."

Murdoch took the set of steps in one stride to stand beside his son, "I could not agree with you more, son," patting Johnny's shoulder the father turned and looked out over the town, "I'm proud of you son."

Wrapping arms around his chest, Johnny bowed his head, "it's not what I'd like you to be proud of, Murdoch."

Johnny felt his father's large hand rest on his shoulder, the warmth and strength giving him a feeling of pleasure.

"Son, you gave these people a chance to live again, to be strong. You showed them that there was strength in numbers, to stand together in adversity. Johnny, you gave them hope, when they had none."

Raising his head Johnny looked into his father's eyes, there within the pale blue depths he saw the pride and love this man held for him, a sinner, a killer, a displaced soul, looking for what this man was offering.

"Ya know, I think I'd forego that bath, an' I like sleepin' under tha stars if it means we can get home to Lancer that much faster," Johnny grinned at his father, "that is if your old back can handle it."

Murdoch grasp his son's shoulder and with a slight and gentle shake, "you let me worry about these old bones and you go and saddle our horses."

Johnny was just off the porch when a feminine voice stopped him short, "and where are you going."

Turning around, Johnny kept walking backwards, "home."

Abruptly about facing, Johnny continued to the livery.

Mallory folded her arms across her chest, "well," she huffed. Looking up into the face of the older rancher standing beside her she bit her bottom lip, "I guess I can't really blame him. We, as a town, are pretty pitiful. Still, I'd like for you and Johnny to stay a little while and really get to know us. We owe you both so much."

Murdoch gave the young woman a weak smile, "is your father going to be alright?"

Nodding her head, "yes, he will be, given time. Thank you for asking. I know dad would want to speak to Johnny again, to thank him."

Murdoch chuckled, a soft rumble in his chest, "one thing I do know about my younger son is that he dislikes being the center of attention."

Mallory looked across the street as Johnny exited the stable, two horses in tow and Mike Blaine, the livery owner, trotting beside talking non-stop at the ex-gunfighter.

"Yeah, Dad also said as much. But we're not like someone who Johnny hired out his gun to and after the 'job' was complete was suggested by the people he helped, to leave."

Once more looking at Murdoch, "Mister Lancer, Johnny and you are heroes to every man woman and child in this town. We want to show you both just how much we appreciate the sacrifice you made."

Johnny tied the horses to the railing and grinned up at the young woman, "You tell your daddy goodbye for me."

Fisting her hands onto her hips, Mallory glared at the young man, "you tell him yourself, Mister Johnny Lancer, I don't pretend ta be a pony express rider or a telegraph runner. If you are my father's friend, then you haul your 'arms, legs and guts' over there an' tell him goodbye yourself."

In a huff, Mallory turned on her booted heel and marched, back straight, down the boardwalk.

Johnny glared at the cackle of laughter from the old timer Winnie, "what 're you laughin' 'bout," turning his icy blue eyes to his father, "an' you..." biting back a smart mouthed response, "alright, let's get it over with."

Together father and son walked the short distance to the little yellow house.

Good Byes and Treasures Moments

While Murdoch and the sheriff shook hands, Johnny, already having said his good byes, left the parlor and made his way to the little front porch.

Taking one step down off the porch he was stopped, "Johnny."

Turning around, one foot on the top step the other on the second, "Miss Banyon, thought we'd already parted ways."

Mallory had never been short on words, but standing here in front of this young, handsome, dangerous man made her tongue tied. His voice made her insides flutter. She was confused, excited, shy…what was wrong with her.

Looking at Johnny directly into the deep blue of his twinkling eyes, "We... I… oh damn and bother."

A grin came over Johnny's lips, "your Daddy know you talk like that, don't seem fittin'," before he had finished his reprimand he found his lips covered by those of the sheriff's daughter.

Her hands grabbed at the front of the short bolero jacket as she leaned in closer, nearly toppling Johnny from his precarious perch.

The gunfighter and the proper lady were lost. Alone, no past ugliness, only this moment in time.

Now, Johnny Madrid had known a lot of women in his time of drifting, and quite a few were not 'proper' women, but Johnny Lancer still had a lot to learn.

The sound of a throat being cleared and a cackle had the two young people pull apart. Johnny's strong hands grasped the shoulders of the sheriff's daughter as she stepped back nearly tripping on the top step, "whoa. Watch your step."

Mallory smiled shyly at the ex-gunfighter, "thank you Johnny," tilting her head she glanced back at Murdoch Lancer and Winnie, "well since Mister Johnny Madrid Lancer will not stay for dinner nor this town any longer," with a grin, "I just let him know he is most welcome back at any time."

Winnie grinned, showing more gum than teeth, "yep, if'n I had a lip lock like that I'd sure be stayin'."

With a squinted look at the young man, "boy, seems I gotta lot ta tell ya 'bout women. That is if ya plan on stayin'."

Johnny released his hold on Mallory and grinned up at the old timer, "well I don't claim ta know all about women, an' I sure could use tha education," then with a glance at his father, "but I got a good enough teacher right there."

Murdoch smiled at his son. It felt good that his wild son had deemed his 'old man' an expert in women, "well son, I seem to remember someone told me once that a man will never fully understand the workings of a woman's mind."

With a smile that lit up his blue eyes, Johnny put two fingers to the brim of his hat, "Miss Mallory," a short pause as he gave a turn and mounted his horse, "I just might have ta come this way again. I think we got some things ta talk over."

Mallory crossed her arms over her breasts, "and who's to say I will even be here. I have plans and not one of them is for me to wait on some rich rancher's fancy son to decide to come callin'."

Her words may have had a bite to them, but her lips and eyes told another story.

"Come on Ol' Man, days a wastin'," Barranca began stepping in place, and tossing his head up and down, ready to head for home Johnny kept a tight rein.

Murdoch stepped from the porch and with a little less alacrity mounted his solid, white faced, horse, "alright son, give that animal of yours his head before he wears himself out worrying."

The palomino turned himself in a complete circle, shifting under his rider until Johnny let out a whoop and a ya, then gathering his hind quarters the horse launched himself out of town.

As horse and rider thundered past, many of the towns people shouted good byes and thanks. Smiling at the unbridled energy of youth.

Leaving at a more sedate pace, Murdoch and his mount waved to the grateful inhabitants of the liberated town. Glad he and his son were in one piece, with no damage.

Murdoch was deep in thought as his horse stopped just outside of town, in the road way was his son, right leg locked around the pommel of his saddle, the ends of his storm strings clutched in his lips, "'bout time, thought you was gonna take 'em up on their offer to stay for dinner."

Murdoch smiled at his son, "no my son, I think I have had enough of saving towns and defeating injustice."

With a saucy grin, "yeah… well seems ta me there was one lady in that town that had her bonnet set for a hero."

Getting his horse to move past his not so funny son, "I have learned some about women in my long years of life that I may impart to you and your brother," with a glance at his son, "but let's get home first."

Home

Johnny would never tire of the sight of his home, Lancer. As father and son sat looking down on the lush valley the weariness seemed to leave their tired, dusty bodies.

They did not need words to express how they felt as both father and son urged their mounts down the road to home.

A big grin split Johnny's face as he spied his older brother exit the house at their approach and the shouts of the ranch hands greetings. This is what he had been looking for his whole life and he never understood until he had found a father, a brother and a home.

His new life as Johnny Lancer, rancher's son and brother, may at times have to take a backseat to Johnny Madrid.

There was still a lot of ugliness in the world and until the wildness of the land receded with the onslaught of decent, law abiding citizens, there would be a need for Madrid's guns.

Now though, the lone gunhawk was not so much alone, the land was changing, and he would change as well.

Thinking back to the tough but beautiful woman he had left two days ago, yeah there may be changes coming on.

The End

Solista

April, 2016