Intervention by Margaret P.

(With thanks to my beta, Terri Derr)

Chapter 2 (Words: 1,623)

"Keep your hands where we can see them."

Johnny did as the man said; holding his arms high with the sandwich still in his left. He heard two people come into the room from the front hall, stepping from the carpet runner onto the bare floorboards of the kitchen.

A woman's skirt brushed the cupboard by the doorway as she entered. "Who are you?"

Johnny risked a glance over his shoulder. His mother's cousin, Luisa, hadn't changed much: greyer, plumper, a few more wrinkles maybe. And if he wasn't mistaken, it was her youngest boy, Alberto, holding the gun.

"Can I stand?"

Alberto nodded and hefted the rifle higher.

Johnny got up slowly and turned around to face them.

Alberto's eyes narrowed. He cocked his head to one side and frowned.

But his mother's eyes opened wide. "Juanito?"

Johnny grinned.

"Oh, Dios mío, eres tú! Juanito, you are alive. Gracias a Dios." Cousin Luisa flung her arms around him. Then she pushed him back so she could look at him properly before pulling his head down and covering his face with kisses. After the sadness and trouble of the preceding weeks, Johnny felt like crying. It was going to be all right.

Putting the rifle down against the cupboard, Alberto relieved Johnny of the half-eaten sandwich, so he could return Luisa's embrace.

"It is you. After so long. El jugador said you were alive, but still I did not know…Your poor mamá. I pray for her."

"The gambler came here and told you what happened?" Johnny could barely believe it. One reason he'd come was to tell Luisa that his mother was dead. He'd been so certain his stepfather wouldn't have bothered.

"No." Luisa spat on the floor. "Thurstan Cole was as disrespectful to Maria in death as he was in life."

She took Johnny's hand. Eyes down she pressed it between hers, and he felt her sorrow. He hugged her again. Luisa was so much like Mama on a good day; he didn't want to let her go.

But Luisa wiped a tear from her eye and pulled away. "He said it was an accident."

Like hell it was. Johnny bit his tongue. "He killed her."

Luisa shook her head sadly. "Ah, my poor muchacho, we suspected as much. A good friend saw him in Mesilla about two years ago with his arms around a whore. El jugador said your mamá died from a fall. He said you stayed at the mission San Andres, but when our padre made enquiries for us, you were gone."

"Mama didn't fall. She was pushed."

"Si, I believe you, Juanito."

"But if that's true—if Johnny saw it happen—Cole should be in jail."

"Ah, Alberto, mi hijo, you are too young to remember. No one would accuse el jugador based on the word of a boy. Poor Maria. She was a bad judge of men. But now at least, Juanito, you are found and you will stay."

"No, Luisa. He will not stay."

Johnny turned towards the door, leading into the rear passage.

Luisa's husband stood with his shotgun aimed at Johnny's gut. "The mestizo will leave before anyone knows he is connected to this family."

"Emilio, you don't understand. This is Juanito, Maria's boy."

"I understand who he is. Better than you, mi esposa. We have not worked hard all these years to be dragged into the gutter by a pistolero."

Luisa's eyes dropped to Johnny's gun belt, but then she turned on her husband. "So what if he has learned to be good with a gun. It does not mean he is a pistolero."

Emilio looked grim. "Thurstan Cole is dead."

"Judgement is mine sayeth the Lord." Luisa's eyes gleamed.

"The Lord had nothing to do with it. He was outgunned by a pistolero in Santa Fe; a gunfighter called Johnny Madrid."

"So, what has that to do with Juanito?"

"Madrid was young and of mixed blood. I heard the news last week. I didn't say anything before, because I wanted to be sure."

"No, it was not Juanito. He is only fifteen. He could not…" Luisa's words died in her throat as she looked at Johnny. "Oh, Santa Madre de Dios." She kissed the rosary around her neck. "Juanito, it is true?"

"He killed Mama. I gave her justice." Johnny was sure he was right, but the horror and disappointment in Luisa's eyes made him feel like he had to make excuses.

"Juanito, she would not have wanted—"

"Him dead? Well, I did."

"I was going to say she would not have wanted the life of a killer for her son."

Johnny swallowed and lowered his eyes to his boots. It didn't matter what Luisa thought. It was done. The bastard deserved to die. "I made Mama a promise."

"Well, I think he should stay." Alberto stepped forward, facing his father. "I heard those stories too. I didn't know it was Johnny and his stepfather, but they all said Madrid shot in self-defence."

"He called the gambler out and beat him to the draw. There is a difference."

"Cole was a piece of shit," Johnny snarled.

"Agreed, but is the pistolero who killed him any better?" Emilio's words hit Johnny hard, even though he'd asked himself the same question. Emilio was among the few to show him kindness; it hurt to lose his good opinion. "His reputation is growing. We cannot take the risk."

"Papá, years ago you welcomed Johnny into our family. We played as children. You cannot turn your back on him now."

Luisa got in front of her son. "Stop, Alberto. Your father is right. Juanito must go, at least for now. Your brother is to marry the daughter of Don Ricardo next month. Do you think el gran ranchero will allow the marriage if he knew?"

"Your sister's husband would not be happy either. He is a man of importance in this town."

"I am sorry, Juanito." Luisa squeezed Johnny's hand. "We must put our own children first."

Johnny nodded. He felt bruised inside, but he wasn't really surprised. "It's all right. I'll leave, but I want something from you first."

"For your mother's sake, I will give you anything in my power."

"I want to know my father's name."

Something dark flashed across Luisa's face and she turned away. The room went quiet.

"I know his last name is Lancer, but Mama would never tell me the rest."

"Then I cannot." Luisa clutched at the rosary around her neck.

"Please, Luisa."

She swung around and met Johnny's eyes. "He was a bad man, and your mamá did not want you to know. She made me promise not to tell."

"But that's crazy. I have a right to know."

"I can't tell you."

"Emilio?"

Emilio raised his eyebrows at Luisa, and for a moment Johnny thought he was going to go against her. But in the end Emilio shook his head.

"Okay, tell me where he lives. Is he still alive?" Johnny's eyes darted between Luisa and Emilio as he willed at least one of them to give him an answer.

Emilio stayed silent.

But Luisa kissed her beads and then spoke, "Why, Juanito. So you can shoot him like you did Señor Cole?"

"I just want to know, is all."

"I thought your mamá made me promise because she hated him and feared what he might do, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe she was afraid you would forsake your soul to take revenge."

Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but she raised her hand to stop him. "I know you have already taken a life, but I will not help you do it again. I made a vow to your mamá, and I will keep it."

"I want to know the bastard's name."

"Enough!" Emilio strode across the room and grabbed Johnny by the arm. He hauled him towards the back door. "I will stable your horse, but you will find a bed elsewhere, and then in the morning you will leave El Paso del Norte and not come back. I give you one day to do any business you have to do. You will say nothing about being related to this family." He pushed Johnny stumbling over the stoop into the yard.

Johnny retrieved his hat from the ground and glared back at Emilio. "I need money. I'll have to find work first."

"Here." Emilio rummaged in his pocket and tossed coins into the dirt at Johnny's feet. "That should be enough for a room tonight and any supplies you can't get from my stores. Meet me around back of my shop at daybreak tomorrow for food. And take a bath." He slammed the door shut, throwing the bolt with a force that made Johnny flinch.

Bending down, Johnny picked up the coins. He felt hollow inside, and it was nothing to do with being hungry.

His blood thrummed and his hands fisted as he headed to the stable to collect his belongings. He didn't care he wasn't wanted here; he hadn't planned on staying anyway. They could all go to hell.

The horses had been fed and watered. Emilio must have done it before returning to the house to find out who owned the pinto. Johnny leaned his head against the stall post. At least Pícaro would be well-cared for.

Straightening, he blinked a few times and breathed in and out and in again. Then he went to his saddle, still resting on the side wall of the stall where he'd left it. He pulled his rifle from the scabbard. He was a gunfighter, a man on his own. Nothing has changed.

God dammit, nothing! Johnny slammed his palm into the post. "Mierda!"

Notes:

1. This story is the sequel to Hate. Like Hate, it has its roots in The Beginning and From Highlands to Homecoming. All of these stories are back stories for characters created by Samuel A. Peeples for the TV series Lancer.

2. El Paso del Norte is the old name for Ciudad Juarez, Mexico.

3. Several Spanish swear words appear in this story. You will recognize them from their context, but for those who want to know their precise meaning, here is a list in no particular order: cállate (shut up); pendejo (motherfucker/coward); largarse (bugger off); mierda (fuck); cabrón (bastard/asshole); maldita sea (damn).