Little Vacquero, a lancer fanfic

Little Vaquero

This is a little 'what if' tale. I love playing with the 'boys' as children. Scott of course is in Boston with his maternal grandfather.

Johnny's mother Maria has taken him into Mexico. For

Johnny to have turned out as gentle and kind, he had to have had a nurturing childhood... at least until he was older and his mother died leaving him alone.

She watched from the edge of the corral as her five-year-old son mounted the large grey stallion by himself. Shaking her head she smiled, the boy may have her temperament, but he got his stubbornness from his gringo father, and his love of everything outdoors.

Paulo Madrid was a horse rancher, his spread was not very big, but it was enough to breed some of the best saddle horses in northern Mexico.

Maria had met him in Nogales, and the confirmed bachelor fell madly in love with the ebony haired beauty. The blue-eyed boy was at first tolerated in order for the man to have the woman.

It was not long until the blue-eyed toddler had the man wrapped around his fingers. The small child had charmed everyone on the estancia, Maria felt this was good for her hijo... though he did not remember Murdoch Lancer she would have to explain one day about Paulo and Murdoch... but not today... today, she smiled as her son rode the horse.

Her little vaquero wanted for nothing, he had a man who treated her hijo as his own. He had a nice hacienda to live in and he was getting ready to go to school.

Mother and son had already had one fight early this morning, Johnny wanted to ride horses, he did not want to sit in a mission school and learn how to count or read or anything else the padres would try to teach him.

Maria threw up her hands and looked at Paulo, "You perhaps can persuade him to go to school."

The gentle giant of a man motioned the petulant boy over to him, "Chico, why do you give your momma such grief? It is good for you to learn these things."

The hard blue eyes looked up into the face of the only man he knew as father, "I do not need these things, I can already count... one, two, and three... and I can read some letters by myself. The padres always say the devil is in my blue eyes... that I should come to church more often. Poppa Paulo, I want to stay and ride horses with you."

Paulo knew the padres at the mission did not hold mestizo children in the same regard as pure born Mexican or even gringo children.

However, after the 'talk' and donations to the mission, the blue-eyed 'son' of Paulo Madrid was welcomed, any feelings on the matter of Juanitos heritage silenced.

"Mijo, you must go to learn these things... I myself went to this same mission as a child. If I did not learn how to properly read, write, and do sums, I would be like a simpleton and know nothing about running this great horse ranch... You, Chico, already ride like a seasoned vaquero, but now you must also become good at reading, writing and add and subtract numbers... comprender mijo?"

Johnny nodded, "Si, Poppa Paulo, I understand. I will do this thing, I will be inteligente, and I will learn what the padres teach, but I will not go everyday to mass.

I will come home and ride my horse and learn from you about how to make a good saddle horse for all the rich dons to ride."

"Bueno," the man said loudly... Paulo was a loud man and at first, Johnny had been frightened, but he soon learned, the bark was worse than the bite.

"Now, Chico, go kiss su momma adios and hurry outside, Rodrigo will ride with you to the mission."

Maria accepted the wet kiss from her son, and was happy.

Johnny prospered under the tutelage of this man, but there were questions beginning in his young mind.

Johnny had always had fast wits and extra energy in his compact little body. He had learned what he needed at the school to make his mother and 'Poppa' happy. However, he took great pride in the horses, they were his world.

However he had questions that needed answers.

Seven, he had just turned seven and the question was there in his mind.

A question that hit him every time he looked in a mirror and his blue eyes looked back, "Momma the other kid's say I am a bastardo...Poppa Paulo is not my real Poppa, who is my real Poppa?"

Maria had hoped she would never have to answer this question. Here it was and she must give the boy a viable answer... her mijo was too smart for his britches.

She could not have the boy ask to meet Murdoch Lancer; it would destroy her relationship with Paulo. She had told Paulo that the gringo did not want her after he got what he wanted. She could not go back... she had taken the proud man's son... even though he did not want a mestizo son.

Murdoch only wanted her on his arm as a prize and had never wanted a child from her.

He would not give his Lancer name to a child of mixed race. She delivered a son and the boy had grown into a toddler, full of energy, taking the hearts of many of the workers on the estancia.

When Johnny had turned two Murdoch wanted to ship the boy off... he could live with her familia in Mexico and he would give them money to support his 'son'... after all Murdoch Lancer had pride.

"... and so mijo, I would not give you up... Murdoch Lancer became enraged and in a fit of anger threw us out. I could not have it both ways, to be his prize wife or your Momma." she smiled at her son, "I chose you."

The fridge of dark hair fell into his eyes as Johnny thought on what his Momma had told him, "Then I do not wish to speak his name or think of him again."

His little face turned up to look at her, his eyes angry, his mouth pinched in defiance... she hoped she had done the right thing.

Murdoch Lancer had loved his little dark haired, blue-eyed son. He did not love her... his estancia took precedence over her happiness and she sought compensation for the two years he held her a virtual prisoner in his hacienda.

However, the hacienda though richly appointed and she had anything she desired... what she desired she could not receive from the driven man she had once loved.

She put a hand to her son's cheek and wiped a single tear, which had fallen from his blue eyes, "Ah mijo, we are better off here in Mexico with Poppa Paulo; he will see to us and make us happy."

Johnny nodded his head; he would remember the name of Murdoch Lancer... the man who did not want him, who threw him out like so much garbage.

Turning his lips up into a brilliant smile the boy nodded again, "Si Momma we will be happy. I will go now and tell Poppa Paulo he is my only Poppa, and would be proud to wear the name of Madrid."

Maria watched as her bundle of energy ran across the courtyard in search of the rancher.

She and her son had been here two years, they had been happy... she had been happy, but now Paulo wanted more, he wanted a son of his own.

Maria could not do this... she wanted no more children. It was not as if she did not love her son, he was hers and no one else's. A trueborn son to Paulo would mean her son would be pushed aside and left with nothing.

Why did men always ruin things, she was happy here... she had a standing in the town and a solid future.

Nodding, it was time to leave... she had decisions to make. The boy was happy and without his blue eyes telling the world of his mixed heritage, she could find someone else to excite her.

No the boy was hers, would always be hers. If a man wanted what she had to offer then they would have to accept her son as well.

She stood and slapped a hand to her skirts to dislodge the dust her mijo had deposited there. Turning she saw the man kneel in the dirt and hug her son, it reminded her of another man kneeling in front of her son and hugging the small toddler.

She waved a hand to Johnny and Paulo, yes time to move on... time to live again on her terms.

Hearing the sound of horses, she shielded her eyes with a hand and watched two men ride in... perhaps customers.

When the taller of the men looked in her direction, her breath caught. Here in front of her was her way out, her beauty already hooked him, and she intended to reel him in.

She looked quickly away as Paulo stepped up to the strangers, her mijo beside him. Small arms crossed studying the newcomers, her mijo could read a person before they so much as spoke one word.

Her son was inteligente, too much for his own good, and very stubborn. Having a double dose of temper and stubbornness... Johnny Lancer Madrid was a force to be reckoned with.

Johnny spat a glob of blood from his mouth as the older, bigger boy stood over him. Wiping a hand over his bloody lip, blue eyes glared up into the face of the muchacho gordo.

Johnny and his mother had been living with Carlos Montoya in El Paso for almost three years. Almost every day he fought someone bigger and older than him... someone who hated mestizos and his dark blue eyes shouted that fact to everyone.

The leering face opened its ugly mouth, "So mestizo..."

That is all it took and the smaller boy jumped up, reached behind his back and withdrew a large knife from its sheath, "No imbecil, I gotta a lot more, you are new here... I will tell you your mistake."

Johnny circled the older boy; other children had gathered and watched the undefeated mestizo taunt the newcomer.

"My name is Johnny," he threw a grin to the boy, but there was no laughter in his blue eyes. "What I see here is you ain't got no manners. I aim ta teach ya some. Now the way I see it ya got two choices... run home ta Momma or stand and fight me."

The older boy looked as if he was going to puke his guts up; sweat broke out on his forehead.

He glanced around for help and found it lacking... these other 'children' had grown up here, they knew Johnny and they knew of Carlos. No one got on the bad side of either man.

"Ok... Ok...," the big boy held up his hands, "I'm sorry I called you that name, I am sorry I hit you. My name is Fernando Montenegro. My Poppa is the new blacksmith in town and I..."

Johnny smiled, "You thought you would make like a big man. Let me tell you and you listen good...I don't like matones, so you walk softly gordo muchacho... these..."

Johnny swept his hand holding the knife around to encompass the children, "are mi amigos don't threaten them again... comprender?"

The boy nodded, "Si Juanito."

Putting the knife back in its resting place, Johnny looked up and grinned, "Its Johnny... Johnny Montoya."

Maria looked on as her 'man' backhanded her son, "Estupido. I give you one thing to do and you decepcionar me."

Johnny put a hand to his cheek, "There was no need to hurt them... I..."

Carlos threw up his hands, "Si always I, well I will tell you, I have given you respect in this town, I have taught you how to defend your sorry excuse for a humano. I have comforted su Momma when you deify me and her."

He moved away from the boy and glared at Maria, "You do something with him... make him understand it is my way and will always be my way. Or I will not stop with just a tap in his mestizo face."

Carlos stormed out without a backwards glance. Maria was afraid... if Johnny did not comply then they may be shown the road. She had nothing to go back to... Paulo was dead, killed by Carlos. Lancer was a definite no; she had nothing to go back to.

Maria knelt on the floor beside her son, "Why do you defy him, mijo. Has he not given a roof over our heads...?"

Johnny smirked as he looked around the two-room shack, the only good things in it was the four-poster bed with clean linens and a soft mattress. He took in the new cook stove, "Yeah Momma, just for us."

Reaching up he touched the fading bruise on her cheek, "OK Momma I will try and stay out of his way, but if he lays another hand on you I will show Senor Carlos Montoya how much I have learned from him."

Johnny Lancer Madrid Montoya, stared in wonder and shock at the blood pooling around his mother's lifeless body.

It had been a terrible fight... very loud, very violent. Maria had enough of the abuse, infidelity, and disinterest from Carlos. She had told him that night, after Carlos once again hit her son, they were leaving. This time the older man had made a mess of her sons face and she was livid.

Her son had faults, but he was her son and no one had the right to abuse him like that.

Carlos did not take the news of her leaving him very well, no one left him. Unless he said they were through, there was only one way she was leaving.

Johnny was still in shock and pain when the man turned on him once more, "See mestizo what comes of defiance... you could have become a part of my pandilla, but you do not have the corazon de frio."

With a shrug, the man pulled his gun, "I must now rid myself of the only witness to this violent deed, lo siento muchacho."

The gun went off, but the falling of the murderer sent the bullet wide. Fernando had used his bulk to push the man aside and save la vida of his amigo.

While Carlos tried to right himself, the bigger boy leaned down and snatched his friend from the floor, "Move it Johnny, rapidamente amigo."

Johnny was moved along by his friend, outside the shack his other amigos stood, a horse was saddled and a bag fastened to the pommel, "Quickly Johnny, go... go fast."

The still stunned boy turned blue eyes to his friend and nodded, "Si, gracias mi amigo. Take care of my mother, por favor."

"We will amigo, now go." Fernando slapped the horse on the rump and it jumped from the unexpected sting.

The children watched the horse speed down the dirt street, then scattered into the night as Carlos bellowed his anger into the darkness.

He was just a few days shy of ten years old. Huddled at the mouth of the cave he sat chin resting on knees drawn up, arms wrapped around, and he rocked.

There were no tears, he had not cried for almost three years Carlos did not permit crying.

Now he was as alone as any one person could be. His Momma lay in a cold unmarked grave, put there by the man who professed to love her. His Poppa Paulo, dead near to three years... the only man he had known to call father. Carlos had also killed him; Carlos had killed Johnny's own childhood.

The small dark haired boy looked up at the sky, now dark with night and covered in stars, "I swear Carlos will not live much longer. I will become what he wanted, the best with a gun. I will then hunt him down and kill him like a rabid dog. Then I will go to the gringo who sired me, Murdoch Lancer, and put a bullet in his head. This I swear to myself, this I will do."

JML JML JML JML

Childhood lost, the child gunfighter was born under a spread of stars over a Mexican desert.

Johnny Madrid stood and picked up the gun and holster, his destiny clutched in his small hands, his fate attached to whichever way the wind blew.

In a big valley in California, a man sat in front of a fireplace, watching the flames lick hungrily. A glass of fine Scottish whiskey held lightly in his large hands.

His thoughts numbed a little by the whiskey, but there was not enough liquor in the world to numb the loneliness in his heart.

Scott his first-born son, he had never held the boy... the five year old, small blond headed boy he saw for just a minute in Boston, what did he look like now?

Johnny the light of his world for just two years, where are you my son?

Murdoch Lancer took a sip of his drink and sighed, Lord help me survive the hole in my heart, help me one day be reunited with my sons. I pray do not let me die without seeing my boys one more time... amen.

The End

solista

Nov. 2013