Part four
'La Muerte', the boyish gunfighter, who had for a few brief minutes, believed he had found a way to make his reputation in Morro Coyo, instead found himself living up to the name in a way he hadn't bargained on, was now dead. The sad thing was that with 'La Muerte's' death, Johnny Madrid's reputation had just added another notch to it, whether Johnny liked it, or not. The very reputation that the young dead gunfighter had so hungered for.
Feeling the guilt for the loss of the young man weighing heavily on his soul, Johnny reached back into his saddlebag looking for the poster that the Sheriff had found on the kid's body. Finding it, Johnny spread the paper out over the back of Baranca's neck, studying the sketched likeness that stared back at him with lifeless eyes. Of course, he had seen wanted posters before, but never one with his face on it, and never one signed by Sheriff Bede Cale.
'Sheriff Bede Cale'. Now, there was a name and a profession Johnny never thought he would hear mentioned in the same breath. When he'd seen that name on the bottom of the poster, his blood had run cold. It was as if the devil himself had come back to life. In a way, he had, for only with the devil's providence could an animal like Cale have stayed alive for so long.
'Why now?' Johnny silently grieved for everything he had left behind at the ranch. Why, when he had finally received everything that had been kept from him, including a glimpse of the Johnny Lancer he was always meant to be, why did this particular ghost have to come back to haunt him?
LRLRLRLRLRLRLR
"A damned wanted poster!" Scott snarled with contempt for the paper that his father carried in his pocket. "That's why Johnny left us, because of that damned stupid piece of paper!"
"That, or the man behind it," Murdoch reasoned.
"Johnny has got to start believing there's nothing that he could have do which would change how we feel about him; nothing."
" Johnny was right about one thing," the elder of the Lancer's responded sadly as the two men continued riding toward Los Almos. "When I sent the Pinkertons to track down my sons, I never imagined that one of them would be the infamous Johnny Madrid."
"But you still sent for him," Scott's voice held no recriminations toward his father. "That meant something to Johnny, or he wouldn't have signed for his share of Lancer."
"Maybe," The older man sighed. "Or maybe, he just thought I saw it as payment for his 'gun'. I don't know what Johnny was thinking, but what I do know, is that I haven't understood all of the decisions that Johnny has made since he came home. Maybe Johnny sees that as a lack of trust?"
"And do you? Trust Johnny I mean?"
Murdoch pulled hard on the leather in his hands, reigning his horse to stop as he made contact with his son's eyes. "You're my sons. I trust you both with my life."
TBC
'La Muerte', the boyish gunfighter, who had for a few brief minutes, believed he had found a way to make his reputation in Morro Coyo, instead found himself living up to the name in a way he hadn't bargained on, was now dead. The sad thing was that with 'La Muerte's' death, Johnny Madrid's reputation had just added another notch to it, whether Johnny liked it, or not. The very reputation that the young dead gunfighter had so hungered for.
Feeling the guilt for the loss of the young man weighing heavily on his soul, Johnny reached back into his saddlebag looking for the poster that the Sheriff had found on the kid's body. Finding it, Johnny spread the paper out over the back of Baranca's neck, studying the sketched likeness that stared back at him with lifeless eyes. Of course, he had seen wanted posters before, but never one with his face on it, and never one signed by Sheriff Bede Cale.
'Sheriff Bede Cale'. Now, there was a name and a profession Johnny never thought he would hear mentioned in the same breath. When he'd seen that name on the bottom of the poster, his blood had run cold. It was as if the devil himself had come back to life. In a way, he had, for only with the devil's providence could an animal like Cale have stayed alive for so long.
'Why now?' Johnny silently grieved for everything he had left behind at the ranch. Why, when he had finally received everything that had been kept from him, including a glimpse of the Johnny Lancer he was always meant to be, why did this particular ghost have to come back to haunt him?
LRLRLRLRLRLRLR
"A damned wanted poster!" Scott snarled with contempt for the paper that his father carried in his pocket. "That's why Johnny left us, because of that damned stupid piece of paper!"
"That, or the man behind it," Murdoch reasoned.
"Johnny has got to start believing there's nothing that he could have do which would change how we feel about him; nothing."
" Johnny was right about one thing," the elder of the Lancer's responded sadly as the two men continued riding toward Los Almos. "When I sent the Pinkertons to track down my sons, I never imagined that one of them would be the infamous Johnny Madrid."
"But you still sent for him," Scott's voice held no recriminations toward his father. "That meant something to Johnny, or he wouldn't have signed for his share of Lancer."
"Maybe," The older man sighed. "Or maybe, he just thought I saw it as payment for his 'gun'. I don't know what Johnny was thinking, but what I do know, is that I haven't understood all of the decisions that Johnny has made since he came home. Maybe Johnny sees that as a lack of trust?"
"And do you? Trust Johnny I mean?"
Murdoch pulled hard on the leather in his hands, reigning his horse to stop as he made contact with his son's eyes. "You're my sons. I trust you both with my life."
TBC