CHAPTER 3 - Enticements

After supper, Scott and Johnny watched their father light a great bonfire of wood stacked on the drive. Their blacksmith, an older man called Sam, helped Murdoch heave a couple of heavy timbers onto the top of the pyre. Sam grumbled the whole time about his bad back but his boss was so used to it he turned a deaf ear.

The Lancer boys joined the ranch hands' costumed children in running around screaming at the top of their lungs. Both boys wore masks that Mrs. Day had made for him, strips of black cloth with slits cut out for their eyes. She was fond of the Lancer children and had taken the time to help them with their costumes. She tied the fox's tail to Johnny's belt, once again, and it streamed out behind him when he ran around. Scott, wearing his Ranger Roy outfit, hid behind a buckboard and pretended to shoot the children he had designated as the bad guys.

The housekeeper came out on the verandah to keep an eye on the children dancing and playing around the eight-foot-tall stack of blazing timber. Some of the little ones tied sheets around their necks - the girls said they were angels and the boys were ghosts. One little boy wore his father's scruffy jacket held together at the waist with an old cartridge belt, with bullets still in the loops. Several of the smaller girls wore nightdresses, their hair adorned with rings of paper flowers.

Catherine and Murdoch stood near one of the massive pillars, watching the scene as it played out in the last light of the day. They waved when the doctor pulled up in his buckboard. His seven children jumped out to join in the fun.

When he reached out to shake Murdoch's hand in greeting, Dr. Hoskins proclaimed, "I figgered a few more kids tossed into the melee wouldn't make no difference. I think I brought seven of them, or thereabouts. Some days I can't seem to remember how many me and the Missus have and I'm always losing track of them." Three of his youngsters ran past the doctor and almost knocked him over. "Just look at them having fun," he said admiringly. "They seem to have more energy every day, while I just have less and less."

Murdoch nodded in sympathy. "And we only have those two boys, but they wear us out. Did you bring your fiddle, Doc?"

"I sure did and," he said with a wink at Mrs. Day, "I'll be expecting to see you out there dancin' tonight, ma'am, and maybe take a turn with me."

Mrs. Day blushed and shooed the doctor away. "More likely I'll dance with Mayor Cipriano," she said, pointing to the newly arrived dignitary. The mayor helped his wife out of their buggy and once she was happy talking with the women gathered around the bonfire, he came over to greet the Lancers.

When Murdoch stepped off the verandah to talk to the mayor, Catherine turned to Mrs. Day. "My children look so adorable in their little costumes. I have to thank you, Mrs. Day, for making them. One thing's for certain, the boys will be worn out and ready for bed before long."

Angel Day nodded, glad to be appreciated. She watched young Valerian prancing around the blazing fire then recognized the man tossing more wood on top of the pyre as his father, Chapel Crawford. She had observed that Mr. Lancer liked his wrangler well enough to invite him over for a game of poker, but she had seen the way Crawford lashed out at his son. That was reason enough for her to dislike the man. Nobody should hurt a child, she thought, even if he was your own.

The housekeeper made sure that there was a big bowl of punch set out on a table, and oversaw the laying out of platters of food as well. Bottles of wine were being passed around among the men but when Dr. Hoskins picked up his fiddle and started to play, several of the vaqueros grabbed their women and began to dance.

The sound of their laughter, the sight of their brightly colored dresses swirling in such joyous movement made Mrs. Day wish she were one of those women. Ah, to be held close by her man and swung around in time to some jaunty music. She hadn't done that in a very long time. How she missed her husband, a no-good cardsharp who had run off with the former housekeeper. She wished her man would come back to her. Even after everything he had done to her, beating her senseless and then leaving with the men's weekly wages in his pocket, she'd welcome him back with open arms, she would. If only…

Mrs. Day sighed and knew that wishing for things did not make them come true. In fact the opposite usually happened so, being a superstitious woman, she crossed herself for allowing the thought to enter her mind. Despite the warmth of the evening a chill ran down her spine. A wind kicked up and sent the bonfire's flames rocketing ten feet into the air with a whoosh. Sparks went everywhere and a couple of the women squealed, but then the wind disappeared and the fire died down. "Something bad is going to happen before the night is over," she said ominously, crossing herself.

The children were romping around near the barn, engaged in a mock gun battle. Scott pointed his pretend gun at Johnny and shouted, "Bang! Bang!" Playing along, his little brother fell down, writhing in a mock death scene.

When he finished talking with Mayor Cipriano, Murdoch brought his wife a glass of punch. Catherine motioned towards their children and shook her head in dismay. "I don't agree with any of this, Murdoch. I didn't raise our children to act like animals or…or desperados."

Murdoch wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders and gave her a brief hug. "Oh, let the boys enjoy their bit of fun."

Catherine stepped to the edge of the verandah and called out for Johnny to come to her side. Johnny obeyed, though his feet dragged every step of the way over across the yard. He stopped in front of his mother, but said nothing.

With a finger under the child's chin, Catherine tipped up his face. "What have you got in your mouth, Johnny? Candy?"

He chewed and swallowed hard. "Nuthin'."

"You know what I told you," warned Catherine. "No candy. Maybe you should go to bed now."

Johnny pled, "But, Mama, Scott is still playing and I want to play and he's got candy and it's not fair!"

Murdoch stepped in. "Leave him be, Catherine." His wife cast him an annoyed look, but he said, "Go and play, Johnny." To his wife, "He's only a child. He's a good boy."

"But hardly an angel, Murdoch." She didn't stop Johnny when he ran back to resume his play with the other children.

Murdoch smiled to himself. "I certainly hope not."

Just as the sun set several butterflies flitted around, their orange and black wings fluttering lightly over the heads of the children. Johnny jumped, trying to catch them, his laughter infectious. Soon all of the children, and some of the adults, were dancing around, the butterflies circling their heads. When Johnny caught one, he ran to show it to his parents, hands cupped to hold his precious captive. Breathlessly, he said, "Mama, la mariposa!" When he cautiously opened his hands, instead of taking off, the butterfly rested on his palm. Stately, brilliantly colored, it flew to sit on Johnny's shoulder.

Catherine smiled at her little boy's delight but then she shivered as something that felt like cold fingers touched her heart. For a moment, with the mask covering half his face, Johnny looked like a stranger to her. But then she saw her child's blue eyes and the feeling went away as quickly as it had come. "You do look dangerous in that mask, young desperado." She reached out and pulled it off his face despite his protest, then straightened his mussed up hair. She hated that her beloved child looked more like his aunt than either of his parents, with his dark hair and blue eyes. Murdoch had told her that all of the women in his family had the look of the Black Irish in them.

He grinned crookedly at his mother. "The butterfly likes me, Mama."

Murdoch said, "It's a Monarch butterfly. Some folks believe las monarcas bear the spirits of their departed. It's a great honor to be touched by one, Johnny." He reached out with a finger to lightly touch the butterfly that was crawling onto Johnny's chest, but it fluttered its delicate wings and flew away.

Johnny's face fell, and when his mother said, "Fun's over, my sweet," he kicked at the dirt and moaned.

"But Mama, I want some candy first!"

"No candy tonight, Johnny," his mother reminded him.

Murdoch called Scott over. "Boys, go inside with Mrs. Day and get the gifts you plan to take as an offering to your aunt."

"Will she have candy for us?" Johnny asked hopefully. Neither of his parents replied.

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It was dark by the time Murdoch escorted his sons along the path between the small cottages his married workers lived in. He occasionally touched their shoulders to usher them along. Scott carried a pitcher of milk, watching his every step lest he spill any, and Johnny held a wooden toy horse close to his chest.

They were the only people around, with all the Lancer folks still enjoying the festivities back at the hacienda. The sound of their revelry was muffled but there was an occasional burst of laughter from the direction of the bonfire.

As they walked up to the house at the end, a whitewashed casita with a blue door, Val slouched by, his eyes to the ground. There was a bottle in his hand. When Murdoch greeted him, Val hesitated but stopped long enough to respond to the boss's inquiry if he was enjoying himself.

Val nodded without enthusiasm. "My Pa sent me to get some booze and I gotta get back," he said, raising the bottle in his hand. Murdoch nodded and when he turned away to knock on the door, Val leaned close to Johnny and hissed, "Watch out she don't eat ya." He didn't even wait to see the little boy's reaction, just took off at a run.

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