Johnny threw back the covers and hauled himself out of bed the next morning, taking a moment to sit on the edge and take stock. No doubt about it – some of the heaviness that he'd carried around for the last couple of weeks was beginning to lift. Maybe he should feel guilty that he was feeling, well, not exactly happy, but he'd lost that ache in his throat that had gnawed at him since everything had happened…since the night they'd found her.

Johnny grabbed his pants from the floor and pulled them on, for the hundredth time wondering about Gabe: what he was thinking, where he was, how were the lambs doing? Leastways, that's what he asked himself this morning. Most other times, when he'd thought of Gabe, he'd itched to work out his frustrations on the sheepherder's jaw.

They'd worked together that night to save all the lambs; he'd even stopped Gabe from getting himself hung doing something stupid like killing Porter. He didn't know why he'd helped the man who stole his girl, maybe even gotten her killed. But damn, he couldn't let Porter win…and somehow he felt he'd be letting Lucy down if he didn't do his best to keep Gabe safe.

But ever since, even the thought of sheep or Gabe or Lucy or any of it was just too damned painful - like touching the edges of a bullet wound when it was just starting to heal and all the skin was red and fiery and sore.

Johnny yanked back the curtains and stared outside as he shrugged his shirt on. The sun was thinking about heading up into the sky and the air would be crisp and crackle like a new banknote and that's exactly what he needed right now. Taking the stairs two at a time he headed downstairs and then passed through the great room, cold and uninviting this time of morning without a fire to cheer a body, and then out the front door. Not bothering with his jacket, he stopped just long enough to snag his gunbelt on his way through.

Standing outside the front door, he went through the motions of jiggling the two longer parts of the belt into each other before he could do up the buckle on the narrow front strap. A growing ease was settling on him as he felt the weight about his hips and he knew, for once, it had nothing to do with wearing a gun.

He liked this time of morning…well, had learned to like it ever since he'd come to Lancer. Soon everyone would be up but right now, it seemed like he had a brand spanking new world all to himself.

The dew had come down and settled heavily on everything overnight. A sharp chill in the air nipped at him through his shirt but mostly it promised to be a fine, spring day.

Out of habit his feet made their way over to the barn. Almost as soon as he stepped off the patio onto the dirt the rooster started crowing as if it was trying to wake everyone up from here back to the border. Movement overhead caught his eye and he looked up to see a flock of geese flying across a sky still streaked with strokes of pink. The next thing he knew he had Dewdrop almost underneath his boots and he had to do some fancy footwork to avoid Jelly's pest. The goose squawked and stretched its neck towards the sky as if it was watching the flight of the other birds.

"Well, I kinda know how you feel," he murmured to the white bird. "Takes time to get used to havin' your wings clipped, don't it?"

The goose ran on ahead of him with its beak in the air as if Johnny was some peon expected to follow.

"Yeah, you go right ahead an' keep me in my place."

Once he reached the barn, Johnny pulled back the heavy wooden door and stepped into the stuffy gloom. The warm night smells of horse and manure and hay got up his nose as soon as he took a breath in there and for a second he was breathing it all in for the very first time – well, that's what it felt like, anyway.

That's when it hit him – just how little he'd been noticing things lately.

It was like coming out of some thick, choking fog that wouldn't let him touch or feel or smell on the outside, but on the inside, he'd felt every thought and memory so powerfully it just about ripped him apart at times with the wanting to go back.

Johnny took a breath and stood still. A pair of cheeky mice scurried across the ground within inches of his boot only to disappear behind a bag of oats across the way.

Then Barranca was calling him over with a whinny, stretching his neck hopefully over the stall gate. Johnny grabbed a handful of oats then held them in front of the horse. Rubbing Barranca's creamy coat with his right hand while the horse nuzzled at the other, he let his thoughts go wandering.

Lucy. That last ride they'd taken together; her hand in his across the gap between their horses. Who would've thought a simple hold like that could make a whole body ache to touch more, could make him feel like a kid who'd only ever dreamed of kissing a pretty gal.

She liked speed; wasn't afraid to let her horse stretch out and feel all that power under her. Her cheeks would go all pink and she'd slap at his arm and laugh when she'd catch his eyes on her breasts as her breath came that little bit quicker. What other girl looked prettiest when the wind blew her hair about and mussed it all up? He'd told her that once…right before he'd kissed her. Dios, what he wouldn't give to press his lips against hers right now…slip his arm about her waist…

Johnny dropped his hand and put his head down…waiting for the weight to fall on him and pin him under so hard that he could hardly think or breathe or eat.

Had it been like this when his mama died? He couldn't remember much about that time – just bits here and there: a tall man in black with a cold, white hand pulling him away from her; his mama looking like she was lost in the kind of sleep she'd always wanted. He'd felt wrong about wanting her to open her eyes but he'd called to her anyway…over and over…not to leave him in that place all alone. Dios, he'd wanted her to wake up so bad…

Somewhere at the back of his mind he heard Barranca snort and then felt the nudge against his chest.

"Johnny?"

He looked up, working hard to cover how startled he'd been at his father's words.

"You okay, son?"

Murdoch had that same troubled look he'd been wearing for some time now. Johnny knew he'd been missing plenty of things the last couple of weeks but that look in his father's eyes wasn't one of them.

"I'm gettin' there, Murdoch. I'm gettin' there."

"Feel like some breakfast?"

Johnny thought about it for a moment then, feeling a little surprised said, "Yeah…I think I do."

Murdoch draped an arm about his shoulder and together they walked towards the hacienda.

"Looks like being a fine day," Murdoch murmured.

Johnny stretched his stride a little to match his father's.

"Yeah…I think it is."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Johnny hunkered down in the saddle, keeping a good grip on the heaving sides with his legs and a firm hold on the reins as he once more forced the paint around the corral. It was strong-boned, had good balance and would make a perfect cowpony if it ever learned to submit without all the fussing. For a green-broke horse, it was still way too cantankerous about the bit in its mouth, the saddle on its back, and the rider telling it what to do.

"Come on, now, fella," he encouraged softly as he nudged the animal forward again, urging it again and again until it picked up its pace and began a smooth, even lope. Gradually, Johnny made the circle wider and wider but just as before, as soon as the paint got a glimpse of the wooden railing looming at its side, its eyes began to roll and it would jerk its head with enough force to almost tear the reins from his grasp.

"Oh, no ya don't," he said, as he felt the rhythm becoming more and more uneven and he forced the unwilling animal to hold the pace he'd set. "Now, see – that ole fence ain't that scary," he crooned softly as the horse finally began to show signs of settling down. "You want scary? Well, you oughtta see my old man when he first wakes up."

He completed another couple of circuits then slowed to a walk, all the while keeping up a quiet murmur of encouragement in a mixture of Spanish and English. "You know, it helps to speak a bit o' both, around here," he told the horse as he brought it to a halt. It couldn't just stop – it had to dance around a little, kicking up the dust.

"Whew, you're a stubborn one," he muttered as he pushed his hat back to wipe at the sweat on his forehead. The spring sun already carried a lot of heat.

Maybe he was tired…or maybe it was the memories that suddenly came crowding in on him when he heard the sound.

In a split second, he saw the tiny blur of white skittle under the corral rails, was vaguely aware of Jelly running from the barn and the next moment the saddle was no longer beneath him. Instead, his body was going one way while the horse went the other and he had that scary, kind of thrilling sensation of not being connected to anything at all.

Mierda. The ground was comin' up fast and it looked awful…

"Oomph."

…hard.

Johnny lay right where he fell and didn't move.

"Burke, grab that dang loco horse."

Jelly's voice and he sure sounded mad about something.

What was that other sound?

"Johnny?"

Well, he'd know that deep rumbling voice anywhere.

He moved his jaw and grit crunched between his teeth. The groan snuck out before he could stop it. Damn - he was hurting.

Then every feeling focussed on the weight of a hand on his back.

"Johnny?"

It would've been nice to just lie there a bit longer and let the sounds keep floating lazily over his head and sink into the comfort of the hand rubbing a circle on his back. He almost did - that sun made him feel awful drowsy - but the worry in Murdoch's voice pulled him away from that other place.

Something sharp was digging into his cheek and the heaviness of his limbs made it feel like he was lying on a bed of rock, so he opened his eyes and put his hands on the dirt to push his way up. "I'm okay. Nothin' broke."

"Take it easy, now, Johnny. You came down pretty hard, there," Murdoch told him, putting a restraining hand on the top of his shoulder to stop him from getting all the way up.

"Where's my hat?" he asked groggily, with a mouth that didn't seem to be working too well.

"Here it is."

That was Scott. Good. He squinted up at him, making no move to take the hat Scott was holding out to him. "Help me up, brother."

Scott shook his head. "Let Murdoch check you over first, Johnny."

"Ain't nothin' broke. Just my pride," he added with a grin at his father kneeling in the dust at his side.

He was beginning to feel that shakiness that comes with learning you've had a close shave but a sudden jarring noise made him turn his head and grab a handful of Murdoch's shirt in his fist. "What the hell was that?"

"Just calm down, Johnny."

Calm? He was a long way from feeling calm as he pushed off the hands that tried to keep him down as he struggled to his feet.

"Bahhhh."

"Jelly!"

Jelly took a step backwards, in spite of himself. "Now, Johnny…it was just a li'l bitty accident."

Johnny's eyes bore into him without so much as a spark of humour.

"You wanna tell me what that thing is doin' on our ranch?" Johnny demanded, his voice building up a head of steam with each word.

Murdoch quickly stood and Scott took a step in closer, murmuring, "Let's talk about this."

Jelly clutched at the tiny, bleating animal in his arms. "Well, the poor critter had nowhere ta go. There was somethin' wrong with its leg an' Gabe couldn't take it with him so I couldn't just leave the little thing ta die out there all alone now, could I?"

Johnny stared at the lamb huddled in Jelly's arm.

"YOU'RE the one who told me you'd rather see me BLEED than…"

"Now, now…you know I never meant that," Jelly interrupted hastily. "You tell him, that, Murdoch," he rushed on, looking for guidance from his boss.

"You knew he was keeping that here?" Johnny turned on his father.

Murdoch stood to his full height and drew in a deep breath. "He was just…" he began in a voice of reason.

"T'ain't Murdoch's fault," Jelly broke in. "He said from the first it wasn't a good idea in light a what happened an' all."

"No one thought to ask ME what I felt?" Johnny ground out.

"Johnny, none of us wanted to drag this all up again," Scott said quietly.

"Johnny, Matilda here didn't mean no harm. Dewdrop hissed at her an' she got all scared an' ran outta the barn before I had a chance ta stop her."

Johnny snatched his hat from Scott. "Matilda?" he ripped into Jelly with a voice thick with scorn.

"Well, she had ta have a name, didn't she!" Jelly defended himself.

"Yeah, well, in six months, 'Matilda' is gonna be turned into lamb stew so you might wanna think twice before you go gettin' all attached!"

"Now, Johnny…"

"An' if I so much as catch sight of Matilda's tail any time before that, I'm gonna take my gun out an' shoot 'er!"

Johnny crammed his hat on his head and then grabbed his gunbelt from the fence but it was when he took the paint's reins from Burke that his father and brother began to get vocal.

"We can sort this out, Johnny," Scott tried.

"Johnny, if you have to ride, take another horse," Murdoch suggested resignedly.

Johnny ignored them both. Instead, he threw his gunbelt over one shoulder and mounted up.

Scott tried to stand his ground but he had to quickly step back when Johnny kicked the horse on.

Johnny had to grip hard and pull on the reins when the paint tossed its head and half reared in confusion and stubbornness, but once it saw it was heading out of the corral it stopped resisting and surged forward like a pack of hungry wolves was on its tail.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

"I'm going after him," Scott said at once, only to turn around when he felt the hand on his arm.

"No, Scott. Let him go," Murdoch said tiredly, watching the trail of dust slowly settling along the road Johnny had taken.

"I don't think he should be riding. Especially not that horse," Scott insisted.

"Probably not but I don't think you'd be helping him any, right now, if you followed him."

A small bleat made them both turn around.

"You were a big help, Jelly," Scott told him through clenched teeth.

"Scott…" Murdoch rebuked mildly. Jelly couldn't look any more downcast than he already did.

"Boss, I'm real sorry. You were right – I shoulda let Gabe do whatever he woulda done with Matilda, steada bringin' her back here."

The lamb bleated pathetically again, trying to nuzzle into Jelly's arm.

Murdoch stuck his hands in his pocket, still watching the last of the dust settle. "Well, that may be Jelly…but maybe this was all for the best."

"In what way? Just last night we had Johnny being pretty much his old self and now he's riding who knows where on a green broke horse that just threw him!" Scott pointed out, not sounding appeased in the least.

Murdoch put a hand out and rubbed the silky curls on the lamb's head. "Johnny's still got a lot to work through in all this, Scott. It's not the sort of thing that's going to blow over in a couple of weeks. He really cared for Lucy. I think, given time…"

He closed his mouth, pressing his lips together.

"He would have asked her to marry him?" Scott asked softly.

Murdoch nodded and the unfairness of life rolled in like a wave and broke on top of him.

"Just ain't fair, Boss," Jelly's words echoed his thoughts. "After all Johnny's been through - well, if ever a boy deserved ta be happy! An' here's me remindin' him of everything that went sour."

"He would have had to face this eventually, Jelly. Maybe it's good for him to let some of his anger out."

"Yep…maybe," the older man agreed slowly but his words were still tinged with guilt. "Guess I'd better go tend to m'chores," he muttered, turning back to the barn.

Murdoch and Scott watched him go.

"Are you going to let him keep the lamb after all this?" Scott asked, turning to stare steadfastly at his father.

Murdoch pursed his lips. The same question had been going through his own mind. "I think I ought to let Johnny decide that," he said eventually.

"If Johnny's not back by supper, I'm riding out to find him," Scott stated purposefully.

Murdoch looked at his oldest son and a flicker of a smile crossed his face. "You won't get a fight from me."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

To be Continued…