CHAPTER 7 - THE DESPERADO

In a fraction of a second Scott took in the stranger's disheveled appearance: the bandolier of bullets slung across his broad chest; the long, black hair and scruffy beard that partially obscured his face. Even without the gun held at the ready, the wild look in the man's eyes would have been alarming.

Scott slowly removed his fingers from the grip of his revolver and raised his hands a little. He readied himself to leap out of the way should the stranger's finger pull back on his weapon's trigger. The odds might be stacked against him, but even so, he wasn't about to be shot to death in Melody's kitchen by some south-of-the-border desperado . . . not if he could help it. "Get back, Melody," Scott warned tautly without looking at her. "Run!"

Astoundingly, Melody didn't run, but instead she rushed forward and cried out, "No!" She placed herself between the two men, with arms outstretched, fingertips touching each man's chest. She implored, "I told you to go, Scott! Now I ask you, I plead with you, to just leave. Go and don't cause any trouble."

Scott didn't take his eyes off the man, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Melody's wide-eyed look of alarm as she made her anxious entreaty. He glanced down at the rifle's barrel, only inches from his chest, then glared at the intruder. "Get that gun off me," Scott ordered. "Who the hell are you to raise a weapon in this house?" Slowly he took hold of Melody's hand and pulled her away, out of the line of fire.

Even as she obeyed Scott, Melody spoke harshly to the man in Spanish, and whatever she said must have hit home because his dark eyes flickered, and for a moment he seemed unsure. The rifle's deadly barrel was slowly lowered, but the man kept it at the ready as he retorted angrily to Scott, "And what the hell are you doing in my house - with my woman?"

It took a moment for Scott to recognize who the man with the rifle was, and another for the significance of his identity to sink in. "Fernando!" Scott cried out in shock.

"Yes, I'm Fernando Mendoza." the Mexican acknowledged. "And this is my house." Wariness marked the man's features as he cradled his gun in his arms. "And that is my wife."

Scott looked Fernando up and down, striving to maintain his composure despite the turmoil that was going on inside him. A cold feeling coursed through his body; his stomach felt as if it had received a physical blow, but he was damned if he'd show his apprehension. Still holding onto Melody, Scott took a couple of steps back and forced her to retreat alongside him. "You want to tell me what's going on?" he asked her in a low tone.

"Scott," she implored, shaking. "I didn't know, I didn't know! Fernando was here when I came down a short while ago. I only just had a chance to tell him about my Dad and brothers dying. He wanted . . . he was hungry. . ." With wide eyes she stared at Scott, and her hand rose to cover her mouth. "Oh my God, my God, what have we done?"

Fernando looked from his distraught wife to Scott, taking in the emotions that played across their features. "Someone had better start talkin'," he commanded between clenched teeth. "Melody? What's Lancer doing here?"

Melody cast a devastated look at her husband, then turned to Scott for help. "I can't," she whispered. "Please, you tell him."

Scott said, with more composure than he felt, "Let's sit down somewhere and sort this out. Fernando, there have been some changes, and you. . . well, we all thought you were dead." If he'd expected Fernando to act contrite for letting everyone believe he was dead, he was doomed to be disappointed.

Fernando made a sound that was not quite a laugh. "Dead?" He scoffed, "I'm not dead, as you can see." He raked his eyes up and down Scott's frame as if weighing him up and finding him lacking. "I remember you, Scott Lancer. You were my friend, but looks like you have taken advantage of my absence." With his eyes fixed upon Scott, Fernando held out a hand to Melody and beckoned her back to his side.

Melody took a reluctant step towards her husband, but Scott seized her hand. "Melody," he said, "You'd best come with me."

Fernando spat, "She isn't going anywhere with you! How long have you been coveting my wife? Well, I'm back, so you get off my land!" He started to raise the rifle in a threatening gesture, but Melody jumped in and forced the barrel to point at the floor.

"No, Fernando, it's not like you think," she cried. "Mr. Lancer and his family have been helping me get the ranch back on its feet. You don't know how hard it's been for me, finding my brothers gone and Dad dying . . . And you were dead! Dead!" She let out a sob but raised her hands to her mouth, stifling any more sound. Scott made a move to touch her, but she shrugged him off and stood aloof, the sole connection between the two hostile men.

"I couldn't get back to California any sooner," Fernando explained. "I told you everything would be all right. I always take care of you." He asked entreatingly. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

Scott read the sincerity in Fernando's face, but felt that made him no less a loose cannon. It was obvious they weren't about to sit down and discuss the situation like civilized people. His main concern was to disarm the man, to diffuse the situation somehow. My God, Scott thought, what did I get myself into? But then a glance Melody's way reminded him why he was there and reinforced his desire to fight for her, no matter what.

When Melody didn't reply, Fernando turned to laying blame. "You should have waited for me. You never believed in me, did you? Your old man made sure of that with his insinuations. You never stood up to him!"

Melody lowered her hands from her face. "Oh, Fernando," she said, "Don't come here and cast the blame on me when you left me all on my own."

Scott asked caustically, "What were you doing, then, Mendoza, that you couldn't take care of your wife? You abandoned her," he charged.

Barely allowing a glance towards the man questioning him, Fernando shrugged. "A man has things he has to do sometimes. What business is it of yours?"

"It concerns me more than you know," Scott said, his voice raised in anger. "I've been . . .my family's been taking care of Melody ever since her father died. What kind of man would leave a woman like this alone in Mexico, to fend for herself?"

"If you have to know, I had some trouble and . . .I was hurt bad," Fernando explained begrudgingly. He touched his ribs with his palm. "It took me time to recover and I didn't know where my wife had gone. As soon as I found out she returned here, I came as fast as I could." He sent a beseeching look towards his wife. "You're my life, Melody. I'd never put you in danger. You know that."

"Nando, you live for danger," she accused. "You deserted me, and those men. . . the Comancheros, they said you were dead. I didn't belong there without you so I came home. Do you have any idea what I went through?"

"I was hurt, my cousins were killed." He closed his eyes for a moment and ran a hand over his bearded jaw at the memory. "I had to lay low and let them believe I was dead. It was the only way." He glanced over at Scott then said to her, "I can't explain it in front of him. Melody, you're acting like you'd rather I be dead in my grave! Muerto!"

"Of course not, Nando. I'd never wish that. It's only . . . this is a shock!" She shook her head in disbelief. "You should have told me, got word to me - somehow."

Fernando wasn't telling the whole story, Scott was sure, but his main concern was to get Melody back to Lancer with him, as they'd originally planned. "Melody, you come with me-."

"Lancer," Fernando cut in, "I insist you leave now. She's not going anywhere with you. My wife and I have things to discuss." He reached out and took possession of Melody's arm, causing her to wince.

"I beg to differ," said Scott fervently. "She's my wife!"

"Your wife?" Fernando shouted. He pulled Melody close even though she struggled against his rough treatment. "Your wife? Since when do you call her. . ?"

Scott barely refrained from drawing his gun against the man. He met Fernando's fiery eyes with a matching glare. "She isn't your wife any more, Mendoza!"

"You touched my woman? I'll kill you for that-"

Melody interrupted, "Both of you, stop it! I am my own person. I can make up my own mind!" She threw off Fernando's hand and backed away from him. "I can't stand this, both of you fighting!"

"We were married," Scott said, enunciating every word, not caring if he was inciting the man to anger. "Married yesterday, all legal," he added, his words heavy with meaning, "She's Mrs. Lancer now, and she's going to stay Mrs. Lancer."

His face dark with anger, Fernando retorted, "You arrogant gringo! You Lancers think you can make your own rules and everyone will bow and scrape before you. Yes, I remember you very well."

Scott shook his head. "No, you don't remember me. And you're not the same man I used to know. That man was killed in Mexico. As far as Melody goes, I'll make sure your marriage gets annulled. I'll use the law to cut you off, and for now she's coming to Lancer with me."

"Lancer law," Fernando snapped back. He looked at Melody with narrowed eyes. "How could you even think of marrying another man?"

"We never intended it," Melody explained, "but when we were over in Flat Bend, we were wed by a judge there. It just sort of happened-" She must have realized that nothing she could say would help the situation, but she made an attempt to calm her husband. "Nando, it never would have occurred to me if you'd been here, alive."

"But the fact of the matter," Scott persisted, "is we are married, according to the law."

"You say you're married? Well, then, there's an easy remedy for that! I'll make her your widow," Fernando said with a sneer. "That'll settle it. You're not even worth a bullet, Lancer!" With brutal speed, Mendoza rammed Scott in the chest with the butt of his rifle.

The blow was hard enough to force Scott back several steps, grunting, but he recovered quickly, countered the move and kicked out hard. Fernando struggled to raise the barrel of his rifle in order to get off a shot, but Scott soon got the advantage in their hand-to-hand fight. Even as the opponents grappled, Scott delivered a hard punch to Fernando's ribs, right where he'd indicated he'd been wounded. Fernando fell, rifle still in his grip, but Scott struck him hard between the eyes with his fist and sent him all the way to the floor in an ungainly heap. Scott had never even had a chance to draw his six-gun.

Melody gasped in shock and sank beside the unconscious man, crying out his name, but Scott leaned over her and quickly disarmed the man. He recovered the rifle as well as a revolver, then ejected the bullets and tossed the weapons away. Scott pulled Melody to her feet and quickly forced her out the door, despite her protests. "Let's get out before he comes to. It isn't safe for you here, Melody!" He marched her to the buggy and pushed her onto the seat.

She looked back at the house imploringly, but didn't make any attempt to get out of the buggy. "Scott . . ."

"We're leaving. We can sort this out once we're at Lancer." There was no sign of the foreman of the S-Bar-M, but smoke coming from the chimney of the bunkhouse told him the men were cooking their dinner. He doubted they were even aware that Fernando Mendoza, who was in effect their boss, had returned from the dead. "I'll send somebody back," he said, thinking they'd better be well armed.

Scott slapped the reins, surprising the horse into a jerky trot. A quick glance back assured him that they weren't being pursued, but even so, all the way out of the yard he expected Melody's angry husband to come bursting out of the hacienda.

"But Scott, he's my husband," she entreated. "I can't just leave him."

Scott stared at her. "You can't seriously be thinking that man is worthy of you, Melody. He's dangerous, and from the looks of him, still on the run from the law. I'll send for the sheriff as soon as we get back to Lancer."

Melody's face paled. Her hand went to grasp Scott's arm. "Please, Scott, don't do that. I'll stay with you as your wife if you keep quiet about Fernando being here."

"You think you can bargain with me over your late husband?"

"Fernando's not dead!"

"I can make him dead," Scott replied before he even thought of what he was saying. Melody cried out, and covered her face with her hands, but when she raised her tear-filled eyes to his, Scott relented. "I didn't mean that. I didn't, really. It's just that I wanted, so much, for us to be happy, and with Fernando reappearing . . . I don't know what I'm saying, Melody. I just need to think."

For most of the drive back to Lancer, Scott remained silent, his mind working over the alternative actions he could, or should take. Melody didn't speak, but the look on her face spoke volumes. Scott felt a mixture of guilt and anger about the situation that had been forced upon them, and found Mendoza entirely to blame. Eventually Scott said firmly, "Fernando's a danger to you, Ma'am, and keeping some distance between him and us seems the most prudent thing at this moment. Lancer's a safe haven for you."

"He wouldn't hurt me, Sir," she snapped, using the same kind of formality. She rubbed her arm where Fernando had held her, as if it pained her.

Scott glanced at his own bruised knuckles and said dryly, "Well, he certainly didn't act in a peaceful manner, did he?"

"This is coming from the man who hit my husband in his own home?" She crossed her arms and took a deep breath. "Fernando was only trying to protect me."

Scott wanted to insist that he was her husband now, not the volatile man they'd left unconscious back at her ranch. He wanted to hold her in his arms and declare that he was her husband, that he'd take care of her, that they'd live happily together at Lancer for the rest of their lives . . . But despite his resentment that Melody had accepted her first husband's return without giving any thought to his position in all of this, Scott bit his tongue.

By the time the buggy drew up at the front door to Lancer, Scott was overwhelmed with concern, and even fear, that now that his true love's husband had returned from the dead, she would find no place in her life for him.