Shouldn't've Done That
See, I was sitting at the bar with Sexton, having a drink to mourn the passin' of Black Jack Cowell, and damned if Johnny Madrid didn't walk in. Now, I knew Johnny from a while back. We worked together on a couple of jobs a few years back, and he helped me out when I got septic from a bullet wound. We'd heard he got killed by the rurales, and then we heard that wasn't so, but I never in a million years thought to see him stroll into a bar in the middle of nowhere, California, him bein' known for working in the border towns and all.
Anyhow, it was him, big as life, and I thought I'd play a little game. I got Sexton Joe's attention and hefted a glass at Madrid. I tell you what, it was a pure pleasure to see him grab his Colt and spin; he was just as fast as when I knew him. But I didn't count on seeing the big bore of the piece pointing right at my face, and I thought "I shouldn't've done that" just before Madrid sees who threw the glass and he didn't shoot.
A big ol' grin broke out on his face when he saw it was me, and he called out "Isham!" and before you knew it he was sitting with us. He was in town for Black Jack's funeral just like we was. I figured we would talk over old times, but he wanted to talk about the job me and Sexton were heading for. He seemed real interested in the situation, but then he always did like to know everything about everything. Now, I never figured Johnny Madrid needed help finding work, but then it occurred to me that we were out of his usual stompin' grounds, and maybe he could use a hand just like anyone else.
That's how we came to work together on another job, this one bringing some rich cattlemen to their senses when our boss, Warburton, wanted to sell his stock in a down market and they tried to stop him. And when we got to the camp it was just like old times, workin' with the other guns, except Johnny wasn't the man in charge this time. He took it kindly enough, and of course the boss's daughter fell all over him like all the ladies did. Damn Madrid anyway. Something about him always drew females and boy did he enjoy that.
But it turned out Madrid was playing us. His old man, Murdoch Lancer, was the big dog in the cattleman's group, and was that ever a surprise to know. Madrid, or Lancer, or whatever his name really was…he set up camp away from the rest of us like he tended to do, and Sexton sent me to scope out his intentions, since him and me had been friendly before.
I did believe him when he said he didn't go along with what his old man was doing, but he also made it known he wouldn't let anybody kill Lancer, so I had to eliminate him from defending the enemy. Now, I wasn't going to shoot my old buddy in the back, so I conked him on the head and we tied him up in Warburton's tent while Sexton Joe and I went to cut the head off the snake. I didn't feel too bad about it. Madrid always knew I saw my jobs through to the end.
I should've known he'd come for us. Old man Lancer showed a lot of guts and he got away, and just then Madrid shows up and takes Sexton out with one shot. Johnny yelled at me to give up, that Warburton was dead and there was no sense in going on, but like I said, he knew I had to finish the job.
I stepped out with a clear view of old man Lancer and took a shot.
Shouldn't've done that.