Chapter Four

Danny became antsy, wiggling around in his chair at the saloon table. "When we gonna go git Madrid?" he asked impatiently.

Roger, sipping on his beer and getting impatient with Danny's impatience, looked over the rim of his mug and stared at his brother. "Soon."

In a whiny voice that irritated the older Fleming brother even more, Danny said, "Why're we waitin'? We know where Madrid is an' there's lots of people out there who can witness the gunfight. Ain't that what we want?"

The man in black had risen from his own chair and was moving toward the saloon's front entrance. "You really are in a big hurry to die, ain't you?" he said in passing, his expression close to a sneer.

Danny narrowed his eyes. "Don't need you to tell us..."

The sentence was cut short when Roger grabbed Danny's arm. "Don't let ''im rile ya, Danny. He pointed Madrid out to us, so we're grateful." The words were accompanied by a salute when Roger used his free hand to raise his mug toward the stranger.

All the man in black did was laugh, as he pushed open the batwing doors and walked out into the late morning sunshine. Neither Fleming heard him utter the word "Fools", as the batwing doors swung back and forth until their momentum slowed to a complete stop.

By the time the man in black had walked down the street toward the general store, the only man he saw there was Johnny Madrid, who was just settling a loaded box in the wagon bed.

Johnny, ever on the alert, saw the man moving in his direction. As was his custom in situations like this, he glanced up toward the sky to note the position of the sun. It was almost directly overhead, so if trouble came, it would not be to either man's advantage. The youngest Lancer then looked down to the oncoming man and narrowed his eyes.

Just as the man arrived within ten feet of Johnny, Scott came out of the store with his own loaded box of supplies. Once he put it in the wagon, he went over and stood beside his brother. "Know him?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. I know him."

His tone of voice, combined with the tension that had stiffened Johnny's spine, told Scott, who had gotten pretty good at reading his brother's body language, that this man was potential trouble.

He took a small step forward, but Johnny placed his hand on Scott's arm. It was a subtle move but one that stopped the blond in his tracks.

"Well, if it isn't Pony Deal," Johnny said, barely raising his voice.

"Hello, Johnny," the man in black replied. "Haven't seen you in a long time."

Johnny's demeanor didn't change, despite the seeming friendliness of the other man's tone. "Yeah, long time, Pony. What you doin' in California? I thought you spent your time with John Kinney and his gang in New Mexico."

"Me an' John had a bit of a falling out a while back, nothing serious. So, I joined up with some others here and there. Then thought I'd mosey over here and see what California's all about."

"You still rustling and robbin'?" Johnny asked, almost casually.

"Now, Johnny, you know I was never convicted of nothin' like that." Pony smiled broadly, the twinkle in his eyes a clear sign that his words may be true, but that didn't mean he hadn't been involved in either of those pursuits.

Scott just stood and listened to the exchange with fascination. It was like watching a chess match. All seemed friendly enough on the surface, but there was an undercurrent of tension that was radiating from both men in waves.

Scott just hoped that the pleasantries didn't give way to violence. He knew that Johnny could be as patient as Job when he needed to be, but he also knew how impatient and volatile his brother could be, as well. One other thing Scott knew: Johnny, ever the protector, would never intentionally put him in danger.

The short silence gave way when Pony Deal began talking again.

"Saw a friend of yours not along ago, Johnny. We rode together for a while. Might even join up again."

"Yeah, and who might that be?"

"Jesse Evans."

Johnny's eyebrows rose a fraction. He hadn't seen Jesse in almost two years. He had also ridden with John Kinney, and he and Johnny had been fairly close for a time. Although their backgrounds were different, they had gone out on their own at a very young age, making a name for themselves with a gun.

Johnny, for his part, had never been involved in rustling or robbery the way Jesse and Pony had. Johnny was a hired gun, not an outlaw, verified by the fact that there had never been any legitimate wanted posters out on him north of the border. In Mexico, well, his troubles there had nothing to do with being a real criminal.

"So, why are you in Green River?" Johnny asked.

"I was just passin' through. As I said, I was checkin' out the territory here in California. Heard it was nice. Can't complain about the weather for sure.

"I heard there may be some trouble brewing in Lincoln County, New Mexico. Thought I'd head that way and maybe join up with Jesse. If there's trouble there, he'll most likely be in the middle of it. Wanna come? I'm sure one side or the other would pay top dollar for the gun of Johnny Madrid."

"Name's Lancer," Johnny stated firmly. "I don't hire out anymore, Pony. I have a real home and a real family now," Johnny stated, leaving no doubt about where he believed his future lay.

"Yeah, that's what I heard, but I remember how you loved to get involved in range wars, pitting your gun against a whole group of guns, and takin' in a load of money doin' it."

Johnny frowned. "That was a long time ago." He stared off into the distance, his mind seeming to wander back to days gone by.

Mentally chiding himself for his inattention, brief though it had been, Johnny's face took on a hardened look. "My past is just that - past." The words were softly whispered, as if he had meant them only for himself. But, his voice carried to the man in black.

Johnny felt a slight pressure on his shoulder and looked around to see Scott's eyes on him. An imperceptible nod told his older brother that he was all right.

Never before in his life had there been someone who cared more about him than themselves, someone willing to die to protect him. It was a feeling that gave him a kind of peace he also had never known before. However, it was also a two-edged sword, because Johnny now had someone other than himself to look our for. In the end, though, he wouldn't trade his brother for anything.

Noting the contact between Johnny and the tall blond next to him made Pony curious. He obviously wasn't a gunfighter, probably only a ranch hand, yet the physical contact between them suggested something different. He was someone worth finding out about. "This a good friend of yours, Johnny, or just a ranch hand?"

Johnny, who had never let go of Scott's arm, tightened his grip, a clear signal that he would handle the somewhat insulting question.

Scott, understanding, didn't budge.

"He's someone who's not involved in my former life," was all the explanation Johnny was willing to give.

"Look, Pony, I have no interest in whatever you're sellin', so just go about your own business and let me an'...us...go about ours."

Pony Deal held up both hands in a gesture of surrender, indicating he was not intending to cause any trouble.

He grinned. "If you prefer the drudgery of loadin' a supply wagon to the thrill of facin' off with others like yourself, then that's your own affair."

"That's just it, Pony. I'm not like those people. Not anymore." He couldn't avoid a tiny grin. "And loading a supply wagon ain't all that bad."

Next to him, Scott laughed. "I'll remember you said that the next time you complain."

Pony took a long look at Scott. The exchange between him and Johnny had been easy and familiar. If it weren't for the total opposites in their appearance, he would have taken this man for a relative of Johnny's.

Changing subjects, Pony said, "I think I'll just head on over to Lincoln County and see what's up over there."

"You do that," Johnny encouraged, somewhat sarcastically.

x x x x x

Down the street, the Flemings came out of the saloon and automatically looked toward the general store to see if Johnny Madrid was still there. They wouldn't have been happy if he had left while they were finishing their beers and contemplating their hoped-for upcoming gunfight.

"Damn," Roger declared. "I shoulda known a man that dressed like that couldn't be trusted." The idea that he had previously admired the man's appearance had quickly faded away.

Danny came up beside his brother and knew exactly what Roger's statement meant, when he saw the scene down the street.

They were both looking at Madrid, the man in black and that Mexican-looking fellow that had been on the wagon with Madrid earlier. "He wants to get to Madrid first and git all the glory," Danny declared in anger, stomping his foot and slamming his hat against his thigh for emphasis. "What we gonna do now?"

Not knowing, or at this point, not caring what the situation might be between the three men, Roger grabbed Danny by the shirt sleeve and headed down the street at a fast pace.

When they got within shouting distance, Roger yelled out, "Hey, you in black, what the hell you think you're doin'? We told ya Madrid's ours."

Pony turned around to face the angry Felmings while Scott and Johnny watched the two stalking toward them.

"Those two idiots are trouble," Pony stated flatly.

Pony waited for the count of five before he addressed the angry redheads. "I ain't after Madrid. Just sayin' hello and then I'm leavin'."

Johnny, understanding the Flemings' intent, tensed up even more, the fingers on his right hand twitching near the butt of his Colt.

"Back off," Roger commanded Pony Deal. "This is our fight."

Not the noble type but also knowing that Johnny would be able to handle these two would-be gunhawls, he moved several paces to his left.

"We don't want any trouble here," Scott spoke up, looking first at Pony Deal and then at the Flemings. Ever the diplomat, he was hoping to defuse any chance of gunplay before it could erupt.

"You're the one we want," Danny declared, pointing his finger straight at Scott.

The blond Lancer's eyebrows rose. "Me?" He was so shocked, he couldn't keep the word from slipping out.

The Flemings had very clearly stated earlier that it was Johnny Madrid they were interested in, only they had said it was his grave they were wanting to see. Now, it appeared, they were after much more.

The confusion lasted less than the blink of an eye before all Hell broke loose..

TBC

Author's Note: Pony Deal, sometimes spelled Diehl, was born Charles Ray in Illinois. He rode with John Kinney's Gang in New Mexico for several years until he finally left.

Later he joined up with Jesse Evans, who had also been with John Kinney, and had left to start his own gang. For a time, Billy the Kid rode with Jesse and Pony.

The Jesse Evans Gang were participants in the infamous Lincoln County War in New Mexico. They were opposed by Billy the Kid, who fought for the other side.

Pony Deal went on to join the Ike Clanton Gang, though he was not directly involved in the Gunfight at the OK Corral. However, he was sought by Wyatt Earp when he was accused of being a part of the attempt on Virgil Earp's life. Pony Deal was never found by the Earps.

He drifted around, again joining John Kinney until he was arrested for cattle rustling, sentenced to five years and imprisoned in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He escaped in 1885, was recaptured after only four days of freedom and finally released in March, 1887 . He then faded from the historical record.

According to some accounts, he was killed in a gunfight in 1887, but this has never been verified.

I've played a bit loose with Pony Deal in this story, in that I don't know if he wore all black; I have no idea if he ever went to California, though I doubt he did; and he would have been younger than I have him here, having been born in 1849.

I could have created a gunfighter, but I wanted to use a real historical character. He fit better than most I researched and wasn't so famous that I couldn't logically make the changes I did..