Thanks to Cat for the beta, and to Rosey Moreno-Jones for the ‘Horse History.
Disclaimer: I have taken a few liberties regarding timelines and Spain’s explorations in claiming what is known as Mexico.
Word count: 30,975
Henry Nolan pulled the collar away from his neck. The air was stifling, and he couldn’t breathe. The events of the last several weeks consumed him with worry and stress; the anxiety was tearing him apart. He needed help and had nowhere else to turn. But one thing was for sure, he knew he would never give up. He had to make this work. Murdoch Lancer could be his chance. He would make this work. He only needed a little help. What was a little help when it came to a friend?
The knock on the door broke through Murdoch’s concentration. The tiny figures entered in the ranch ledgers were beginning to blur his vision, and he was grateful for the break. Don’t need glasses; my eyes are just tired, he argued with himself. But deep down, he knew glasses were soon in his future
He opened the door, and shock flooded his brain. He could not quite believe who stood on his threshold. Murdoch began to laugh as he held out his hand. “Henry! What a surprise! What has it been? Fifteen, sixteen years now?”
“Murdoch, you never could count very well! Try twenty!” Nolan laughed as he tried to read his old friend. Is this the same man I knew all those years ago?
“Come on in! You will stay for dinner, won’t you? I would like you to meet my sons! Come in. Come in!” Murdoch urged. “Would you care for a drink, Henry?”
“I thought you would never ask, Murdoch!” Henry responded as the smile successfully masked his worry.
Murdoch handed the glass to Nolan, and the men held up their whiskey in a cheer of ‘Here’s to the old days and old friends!’ and drank.
“Henry, what brings you to Lancer?” Murdoch asked with a huge smile.
“Well, Murdoch, I had a couple of days after my business in San Francisco, and when I heard that you were still here, well, twenty years is a long, long time. I just wanted to see you before I went home. You are not a difficult man to track down in this part of the country, so here I am!”
“Henry, I’m so glad you’re here! Say, is Grace with you?” Murdoch asked, not wanting the woman to be sitting out in the carriage by herself.
Henry’s smile faded a bit. “No, Murdoch. Grace died about six years ago, now. She was fine one day, caught a fever, and three days later, she was gone. There was nothing anyone could do.”
Murdoch was deeply saddened. Grace Nolan had been a fine, good woman. “Henry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. Please accept my deepest sympathies.”
“Thank you. But, you know, it made me think about you when we worked together and how you handled your grief. Then the situation with your boys… I don’t know how you made it through those awful times.” Henry, concerned he’d said too much and stirred up memories that should remain buried, watched Murdoch closely.
“Murdoch, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m truly sorry!”
“Well, Henry, we can’t change what was, but,” Murdoch’s smile seemed to take over his face. “Henry, my boys, they’re with me! They’re home!”
“Both of them? Murdoch, that’s wonderful! Tell me everything!” Henry was, indeed, amazed. His early days with Murdoch had been tough. He’d stayed with Murdoch through roaring drunks while the man grieved and mourned his wives and sons. And he’d been there through the hangovers that followed.
“Henry, let’s get your things and bring them in. Better yet, can you stay for a few days? I would love to have you meet the boys, and I can show you the ranch!” Plans filled his head. Murdoch was elated to see the grin across his old friend’s face.
“Murdoch, the horses in that pasture… they’re magnificent! How long have you been in the horse raising business?” Nolan couldn’t take his eyes off the beauties that grazed in the lush, green grass.
Murdoch beamed with pride. “Those horses belong to the boys. They have contracts with the Army and several prominent ranches all over the state. They catch and break wild horses and have begun to raise some fine stock like those you see out there.”
“Your boys have an excellent eye for horseflesh! They’re incredible!” Henry could not tear his eyes away from the scene.
“Yes, they are something! And to think that I was against the idea in the beginning. I deeply regret that decision now, but once Scott decided to join Johnny in the venture, it made more sense.”
“I’m getting the feeling that you didn’t trust Johnny’s judgment. Am I right?” Henry began to dig.
Murdoch sighed deeply then turned away to hide the regret on his face. “I am embarrassed to say that it took Scott to change my mind. Johnny grew up… rather undisciplined. His mother died when he was a very young boy, and, for the most part, he ran wild. Impetuous is how I described him. But he has settled down since coming to Lancer and deciding to stay, but he still has his moments.
“For the most part, Scott handles the business end of the partnership, and Johnny works his magic with the horses. Oh, Henry, you should see him with these animals! It’s fascinating the way Johnny can work them. Maybe he’ll give you a demonstration after supper. You won’t believe it!”
“I would love to see that, Murdoch. When do the boys call it a day?” Henry asked.
“Scott should be in shortly. He took a crew over to repair a bridge that washed out. Barring any unforeseen issues, it shouldn’t take him too long to get home. Johnny went up to the north pasture to check the fence line. He could be late tonight. But if it’s too late, I’m sure he will show you tomorrow.”
“Oh, Mr. Nolan, tell us some stories about when you and Murdoch worked together!” Teresa said over a dessert of chocolate cake.
Scott nodded in agreement, anxious to hear what could be a juicy tidbit of Murdoch’s younger days. Scott wished that Johnny was here to enjoy some possibly embarrassing insight into their dignified father’s past.
Murdoch turned a look of warning to their guest. Although Henry Nolan was typically the first to enjoy the tales of younger, less disciplined years, he caught Murdoch’s eye that effectively relayed a word of caution.
Henry smiled and chose his words carefully. “Oh, Murdoch was a model peace officer! He was very good at what he did, brought in criminals, and kept law and order. There were the typical damsels in distress that he was able to rescue, and he saved a kid or two from harm. All in all, he was a man that I was proud to work alongside.” Henry finished with a wink at his friend.
Scott turned his attention to his father while Henry continued his censored version of their days as deputies. He raised his brows when Murdoch turned to him. “He’s laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” All the Lancer patriarch could do was laugh. “Mr. Nolan, I think you’ve told us more by not telling us more!” Scott joined in their laughter.
“Looks like Johnny will be late tonight, Henry. But I’m sure things will work out tomorrow. The horse he rides is an excellent example of his training abilities; some considered that animal untrainable. I had almost given up on it, but when Scott and Johnny came home and chose their mounts, Johnny picked that horse. Everyone discouraged him from trying; they told him it could not be broken.” Murdoch paused as he remembered the scene that morning in the corral.
“But he proved them wrong, I take it?” Henry asked.
Murdoch looked at his friend and grinned. “He most certainly did!”
They talked late into the evening, reminiscing about old times and only the tame stories until Teresa excused herself and went to bed. Then the tales became a bit more… realistic, Scott thought. He was sure that given more time and more Scotch, the truth would, indeed, be revealed. But he also knew he needed to get some sleep.
“Gentlemen, if you will excuse me? I will retire for the night. There is much work to be done tomorrow, and dawn comes very early! Goodnight, Murdoch, Mr. Nolan.”
Scott made his way up the stairs and shut the door to his room before Henry spoke.
“Murdoch, Scott is a fine young man! You must be so proud!” Henry said as he took another drink from his glass.
“I can’t put it into words, Henry.” The emotion in Murdoch’s statement was undisputable in the quiet of the late evening, the pop and snap from the fire accentuated his declaration.
Henry could feel nothing but regret and more than a hint of jealousy.
Thankfully, the line shack was stocked with supplies and sufficient firewood chopped before Johnny arrived. Fatigue tugged at his brain, and the only thought on his mind was going to bed. It had been a tough day. What had started as an easy chore of checking the fence lines turned into a major job of clearing the largest stream on Lancer. To have left it as it was would only mean another trip back to get it done.
It turned out to be a bigger chore than Johnny initially thought. Once he got in the water, he encountered a large tree root stuck in the mud. After weeks of rain up in the mountains that washed debris downstream, a dam of sorts formed and created an extensive muddy bog before the water passed through on its way to lower elevations. Tramping in the mud all day took its toll, and Johnny was exhausted. He would return to the ranch and come back with a team of draft horses to pull the stump out of the mire… tomorrow.
He scraped as much mud as he could from his clothes, stripped, and left the encrusted calzoneras, shirt, and jacket to dry overnight, then climbed into the bunk. Pulling the blankets up to his neck, he fell into an exhausted sleep in minutes and slept through the night without waking.
The hot water felt like heaven, and Johnny wondered just how long he could stay submerged in the comfort before anyone found him. Not too long, the water gets cold. Damn… he thought. He scrubbed the remaining mud from his body and rinsed the soap, wanting nothing more than another soak in clean hot water. Well, there was a ranch to run, work to do, and, hopefully, once he explained to Murdoch, there would be no confrontation regarding his delay in getting home.
He dressed quickly and headed into the house but was stopped halfway across the yard.
“Johnny!” Murdoch called as he stepped down from his horse.
Johnny turned and waved, relieved that Murdoch seemed in good spirits as he and another man walked to the corral and leaned on the top rail.
“Johnny! Come here; there’s someone I want you to meet!”
Johnny walked to join them; his spurs jingled with every step as he made his way to his father’s side. He had no idea as to the identity of the man standing there; he’d never seen him before and sized up the man as he got closer. He would soon find out who the stranger was.
Murdoch turned and smiled as Johnny reached them, and he laid an arm across his son’s shoulders. “Henry, I’d like you to meet Johnny, my younger son. Johnny, this is Henry Nolan. Henry and I go way back; we were deputies together in Texas.”
“Mr. Nolan, nice to meet ya,” Johnny smiled as he firmly clasped the older man’s hand.
“Johnny, it’s good to meet you, too! Your father has been telling me about your way with horses. I’d sure like to see you work them while I’m here,” Nolan said with enthusiasm.
Johnny shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise, and he looked at the toes of his boots, then met Henry’s gaze. “Yeah, sure, but it might hafta wait.” Johnny then faced Murdoch. “I gotta get back up there, Murdoch. The stream up there was almost dammed shut. Got most of it cleaned up yesterday but need ta take the team up there an’ pull a stump outta the water. Too much for Barranca, wasn’t gonna risk him gettin’ hurt.”
“That’s fine, Johnny, but I’m going to send Joe and a couple of hands. Henry isn’t going to be here very long, and I want him to see you work your horses. When did you get in, Johnny? I didn’t see you last night or this morning,” Murdoch asked as he looked the young man over. If Johnny could slip it by, he would not admit to injury or illness, and Murdoch had to be on his toes since both his sons tended to brush off a potentially dangerous malady.
The gesture was not missed, and Johnny shrugged as he spoke. “I’m fine, Murdoch, just a little tired. Got in right after nine this mornin’. Made a coupla repairs to the line shack an’ by the time I got back here an’ got Barranca settled, thought I’d do ya all a favor an’ get a bath. Goin’ ta get breakfast now. Mr. Nolan, gimme a few minutes, an’ I’ll meet ya at the corral behind the barn.”
Murdoch and Nolan watched as Johnny disappeared into the hacienda.
Henry turned to Murdoch with a smile. “Well, Murdoch, I’d say he has definitely settled down. It seems that he handles his responsibilities admirably. You have two fine boys, Murdoch!”
Henry was awed as he watched Johnny with the horses. With the limited time, Johnny could only hit the high points and left out the tedious, time-consuming steps, showing Henry horses in various stages of training. But Nolan got the idea as he observed the interaction between Johnny and his magnificent animals. Building trust was critical, and he couldn’t help but hear as Johnny talked in his low, comforting tones and watched the horse settle and relax. And respond, and soon witnessed the horse as it followed Johnny like a puppy, which made Henry draw in a sharp breath.
Murdoch inwardly smiled. He had seen this many times before and would never tire of it; he could watch again and again. And every time he saw it, he burst with pride in his son.
Henry discreetly observed Murdoch from the corner of his eye and saw the joy in his friend’s face. I wonder what that feels like. If only… But Henry shook those sad thoughts away and forced the growing jealousy aside. There hadn’t been many options for him until now, and he was suddenly filled with an idea for putting a plan in motion.
Cipriano brought another horse, a bay mare, into the corral. This one was further along in training and was ready to be broken. Johnny slowly walked to the animal, again talking in a mixture of Spanish and English, the calming sing-song of words and gentle touches, a prelude to every session.
Coming from behind and out of sight of the horse, Cipriano handed Johnny a bridle, and he expertly slipped it in place. The mare fought only briefly and calmed with the words that had the desired effect. Cip then handed Johnny the saddle blanket, and with infinite care, Johnny gently pulled the blanket over her body. He rubbed her neck, down her back and across her flanks, caressing until she stood still. He straightened the blanket on her back, moved it around, and positioned it for the saddle.
Murdoch held his breath. This was the time when he began to sweat. It was the start of potential danger, the part where Johnny could be seriously injured.
Henry saw Murdoch stiffen, his hands were clenching the top rail, and he could feel the parental anxiety but couldn’t take his eyes away from the scene before him.
Johnny took the saddle from Cip, again from behind the mare’s line of vision. He then brought it into view; the soft, comforting words never stopped as Johnny let the horse get the scent of the leather. Gently swinging the saddle up, he settled it on her back as she quickly sidestepped, and it fell to the ground with a thud.
The step was repeated several more times before Johnny had the opportunity to tighten the cinch. Johnny led her around the corral as the saddle became tolerated. Now, it was time for her to get used to more weight on her back.
They stopped in the middle of the corral; Johnny put his foot in the stirrup, introducing more weight. When the mare didn’t move, he picked his right foot off the ground and stood, then gently swung his leg over and settled lightly in the saddle. And the mare did not move.
The seconds ticked by, then she exploded into a frenzy, trying to dislodge the man on her back. She bucked and sunfished, then she reared up on back legs, came down hard, and raced to the other side of the corral. She came to a bone-jarring halt and stood still. And Johnny waited.
He knew it was coming, and when it did, he felt as if his neck had snapped. The mare jumped on stiff legs, and Johnny could feel his spine pound into the saddle on one end and into his brain on the other… and then he was in the air and slammed into the ground.
Henry gasped but watched as Johnny rolled, then in a fluid movement, got to his feet, and slowly walked to the mare. She shied away, but he took the reins, continued the litany of gentling words, and again stepped into the stirrup, swinging slowly into the saddle. Before his butt touched the leather, she was bucking with all the power she had left.
She tried her best to unseat the man, but this time, he stuck with her. Again and again, she hit the ground with brutal contact, she couldn’t shake him, and she began to wind down.
Johnny felt her sides heaving with exhaustion, and she was blowing hard. At last, she stood still. Johnny patted her neck and urged her into a trot around the corral as he kept a tight, commanding rein.
Murdoch let out a heavy sigh. He would never get used to the stress and anxiety of watching the actual breaking of the animals. However, he also found himself drawn to the corral rails, as he could not ignore the magnificent display of his son’s talent. He had witnessed many injuries, not only of Johnny, but many of the hands, and it always tied his belly in knots. But it was over, now, and everyone was fine, and he felt the familiar elation and pride take its place.
Murdoch turned to Henry. “Well, Henry, what did I tell you?”
“Murdoch, that was… incredible! I’ve never seen anything quite like it! Where did he learn how to do that?” Henry Nolan asked with pleasant disbelief on his face.
“Johnny tells me he picked it up when he worked on different ranches on both sides of the border. He took bits and pieces from different trainers and came up with his own method, and it has proven quite effective. He and Scott are turning a tidy profit with their horses,” Murdoch grinned. He knew he had skirted around the truth, but he had no intention of getting into Johnny’s sometimes dubious past. There were many questions that Murdoch had no answer for, and Johnny had made it clear that he would just as soon let his sleeping dogs lie.
“Well, Murdoch, I have to commend you on… everything! The ranch is certainly impressive, and your sons are quite the young men! You, my friend, are to be admired, and may I say envied?!” But Henry turned away before Murdoch could see the heartbreak and dismay tearing his heart in two.
“How is everything coming along, Scott, Johnny? Any issues that should be addressed before the cold weather hits?” Murdoch asked over dinner.
“No, sir. We seem to be ahead of schedule unless we get early snow or some unforeseen catastrophe. The stock in the high country is scheduled to be brought down to lower pastures next week, all fence lines and line shacks have been repaired and restocked, and feed for the winter looks ready to harvest. Johnny, do you have anything to add?”
“Nope, Boston, think ya covered it all. Only thing is, Murdoch, there’s a horse auction down in Flagstaff. Just found out about it. I wanna go if you can spare me, but it’s next week. I’d hafta leave tamorrow if I wanna get there in time. Kinda short notice…” Johnny wasn’t holding out any hopes of going, but he threw the idea out there at the slim chance it could be arranged.
Across the table, Henry Nolan was about to burst. A golden opportunity had just fallen into his lap. “Murdoch, if I may, I would like to propose a deal.”
Murdoch looked to his old friend, the man that had stood by him during his darkest hours and had kept his head above the turbulent sea of total despair.
“Why don’t we talk over an after-dinner drink?” Murdoch suggested as he wondered where this conversation was going.
The four men left the table, and after Nolan complimented Maria for her outstanding dinner, they adjourned to the great room.
The drinks were served, and they settled onto the comfortable, inviting furniture.
“Well, Henry, let’s hear your proposal!” Murdoch said with an enthusiastic grin. Henry had always been a spontaneous man, Murdoch remembered, and often with hilarious results. He looked to his sons as they waited patiently, albeit anxiously.
“Gentlemen, I want to propose a deal that should be quite profitable to us all.” Henry watched the Lancer men. He had their attention, but he couldn’t let himself become overly confident. These men didn’t get to where they were by jumping into every deal that came along. Taking a deep breath, and a big chance, he forged ahead.
“In truth, I need a favor, but it could benefit Lancer, that is if you agree.” He stopped to turn his attention to Scott and Johnny, and although he could see nothing in their eyes to indicate they were interested yet, he had high hopes he could pull them onboard.
“I need to transport a horse from my ranch in Thatcher, Arizona, to my brother’s ranch in Susanville in northern California. We agreed to let him have my horse for stud, and I get first pick of the foals he sired. What I would like to propose is that Johnny comes with me on my return trip home. We can stop at Flagstaff to check on the horses at the auction,” Henry watched Johnny’s eyes, noting there was not the excitement there he was expecting… yet. So, he continued, giving considerable effort not to sound desperate.
“Then, Johnny and I will proceed to my ranch, where he will pick up my horse and take it to Susanville. In exchange, after my brother’s mares are bred, my stallion is lent to you for stud. Does that sound like an agreeable proposition to you all?” Henry stopped there to let the Lancers absorb and digest his proposition. He did not have to wait long for the questions he felt sure would come.
“Mr. Nolan, with all due respect, how do I know this horse of yours is worth breeding to our mares? Got any papers on him to prove the lineage?” Johnny asked apprehensively and took a drink, his eyes not leaving Nolan’s face.
“Unfortunately, the papers were burned when the Chiricahuas raided and burned a ranch near Tucson. The rancher was desperate for money and offered the horse to me, and I jumped at the chance. You see, the horse we are speaking of is of Andalusian heritage dating back over three hundred years.”
<><><><><>
For a fraction of a second, Nolan saw the spark in Johnny’s eyes, and he knew with more convincing, he would have the young Lancer where he wanted him. He had to be careful. None of these men were fools. But then Henry Nolan was a master at finessing details.
“Have you ever heard of them, Johnny?” Henry asked, hoping the hooks were securely set.
“Yeah, I have. Worked with some down in Mexico. They weren’t purebreds, but even then, they were impressive lookin’ horses, Mr. Nolan.” Johnny stared, not breaking eye contact, leaving Nolan convinced of his interest.
“Yes, they are stunning, to say the least! I was fortunate to be in a position to buy the animal due to the misfortune of Mr. Sanders. But we can’t always control everything around us, can we?” Henry turned his gaze to Murdoch, who nodded in agreement. Then he refocused on Johnny.
“So, what do you say, Johnny? Are you up for a trip and work to strengthen the bloodlines of your horses? An Andalusian mix would no doubt increase your profits!”
Johnny turned to his father and thought a moment before he spoke. “Murdoch, remember when Alejandro an’ Elena Alvarez were here? The horses their men had were of Andalusian bloodlines.”
Murdoch was impressed. “Yes, I remember well. The animals were magnificent!”
Johnny turned back to Nolan. “Without any legal papers, Mr. Nolan, they won’t bring near the price. Can’t prove nothin’,” Johnny said, determined to examine every angle before he committed to this venture. He had seen this happen before. Then he seemed to change course. “I take it that you’re alright with me ridin’ your horse all the way back? It’s a long way,” Johnny questioned.
“However, you want to do this, Johnny. I can lend you a saddle horse, and you can lead the stallion, or you can ride him. However, should you choose to ride him, you need to know that he’s only green-broke. I can’t promise you won’t have any trouble.” Would Johnny do it? He was skeptical, but then the young Lancer asked about riding the horse back to California. Henry Nolan’s nerves were sparking, igniting, and exploding.
Johnny smiled and shrugged but did not say anything more.
Henry turned to Scott. “What do you say, Scott? You’ve been rather quiet about this.” Henry was doing his level best to convince them that the deal was an excellent opportunity for them all. He’d been truthful in everything he told them… almost.
Scott left his chair to peruse the extensive collection of books that lined the wall. He ran his finger over the volumes with a soft whisper, then, finding the book he was searching for, pulled a cumbersome tome from the shelf. Retaking his seat, Scott began scouring the chapters until he ferreted out particular pages.
Murdoch had an idea but kept silent as he watched his older son glean information from the book. Henry watched with equal interest but unsure what it was Scott was doing. Johnny, on the other hand, sat and drank his tequila with a smile that tickled the corners of his mouth.
Finally, Scott looked up from the history book and caught his brother’s attention. “We might want to give this some thought, Johnny. Andalusians have quite a noble history. It says here that they were highly sought after during the Middle Ages for war horses. It says in this book that their size, intelligence, and strength made them the perfect horse for battle.” He thought their horses here at Lancer, combined with the traits of the Andalusians, could be a win-win situation. Henry Nolan gets a safe escort from Johnny for his horse, and he and Johnny get free stud service for their mares.
Johnny sat silent for a few minutes mulling things over in his head. When he finally spoke, he turned his eyes to his father. “What’d ya say, Murdoch? Can ya spare me for a while?”
Murdoch drew a deep breath, then a smile pulled on his mouth. “Yes, Johnny, I think you need to check this out! And, might I suggest, if you find any horses in Flagstaff, that we can send a couple of men to bring them back.”
“Well, Mr. Nolan, when do you wanna leave?”
The knock was soft, but Johnny knew who it was. “It’s open, Boston.” Johnny pulled himself upright from his sprawl on the bed. The portal opened as Scott, with the large book in hand, came into Johnny’s room and closed the door.
“Johnny, you need to see this! The more I read, the more impressed I am with these horses! They’re…”
“Yeah, I know, they’re somethin’, ain’t they? I worked with horses in Mexico that had Andalusian blood. You saw them here with the Alvarez men. He had one when I worked for him, a bright, shiny black. Had feathers so long, I thought the horse was gonna trip on ‘em!” Johnny smiled as he remembered the excitement that pounded in his chest the first time he saw the horse.
Scott sat next to his brother and flipped the pages of the book, pointing out interesting facts and statistics, as Johnny watched with amusement.
“Scott, don’t get carried away with this. We don’t know if it’s gonna work or not. Hafta wait an’ see the stud before we can know anything. Besides, the fact that Nolan don’t have any papers on this horse could be a problem for any buyers. Most folks wanna see them papers. ‘Specially for a horse like this one, if Nolan’s tellin’ us the truth. Ya can know a good horse when ya see one, but without legal proof, ya might not get any more money for the horse.”
“What’s ‘not to work’? Papers or not, introducing these bloodlines can produce a better horse; stronger, faster, more intelligent…” Scott asked as if in shock, “Do you think Mr. Nolan is leading us on?”
“Don’t know if he’s lyin’ or not, but would you really take someone’s word for somethin’ like this? We’re just gonna hafta wait an’ see what we’re dealin’ with.” Johnny smiled at his brother, thinking Scott looked like a little kid scolded for misbehaving.
“Johnny, is something wrong? Our horses could benefit if we introduced Andalusian blood.” Scott had difficulties reading his younger brother; this was a great opportunity presented to them, and Johnny was apprehensive! There was no excitement from him regarding the offer from Mr. Nolan.
“No, Scott, nothin’s wrong. Just ain’t gonna get worked up over this in case it don’t turn out, is all. Go ta bed, brother. I got an early stage ta catch tamorrow.”
After Scott left his room, Johnny stretched out on the bed, thinking over the situation. No papers to prove the horse was what he was claimed to be was a detriment. However, a fine horse was a fine horse. Johnny would have to wait to see the animal before he made a decision. But the thing that niggled at his brain was why the man was willing to let the horse be ridden, by a stranger, all the way from southeastern Arizona to northcentral California. That left the door open to trouble and left Johnny to wonder at Nolan’s game.
Henry Nolan appeared to relax in his seat as the stage rocked and bounced on the deeply-rutted road. Nolan looked out his window at the flat country, sliding past his window as his thoughts settled around his traveling companion. Johnny sat slouched with his hat pulled down over his eyes and arms folded across his chest. He stretched his legs out before him, crossed at the ankles. He appeared to be sleeping. Nolan smiled.
The boy was a bit of an enigma, Henry thought. Well, first off, he wasn’t a boy. Far from it. He may be young chronologically, but he had experience hanging around him like a heavy blanket, making Henry more than pleased the situation had worked out so well. Johnny seemed quite knowledgeable of horseflesh, and Henry had a suspicion Johnny could handle himself should a situation turn south.
When they met for breakfast that morning, before leaving Lancer, Henry interrupted a conversation that was tactfully cut short when he entered the kitchen. Both Murdoch and Scott seemed concerned that Johnny would be close to Mexico, and he heard Johnny do his best to reassure them he would be alright. Whatever that was about, Henry never found out. The conversation drifted away from the warning, and soon, they were getting ready to leave the ranch.
One thing that did catch Nolan’s eye was Johnny’s Colt. The younger man stood in the front hall and took great pains, settling the rig around him. Johnny buckled the gunbelt, then readjusted the buckle and pulled the belt tighter, settling the Colt in a perfect position, low on his hip. Henry remembered the night before as he watched Johnny clean his gun and thought, at the time, he had never seen such care taken with the chore. It was handled… lovingly, passionately. He puzzled over it, but then everything he’d seen Johnny do was meticulous, methodical, and precise.
As Johnny sat appearing to sleep, he ran pieces of conversations, observations, and personal notions through his head. If what Nolan said was true, this could be a very profitable deal for Lancer, but he’d learned the hard way not to count on anything. He thought back to his first morning at Lancer: he told Scott he didn’t give anyone too much credit, that it saved a lot of disappointment later. And that had the potential to prove correct here. All Johnny could do was rely on gut feelings.
The pieces began to fall into place for Henry when, later in the afternoon, the stage stopped at the scheduled way station to change horses. Johnny and Nolan were stretching their legs while they could. From inside the barn, a crash and shout echoed out into the yard, and Johnny immediately crouched and drew his Colt in less than a blink of an eye. It happened so fast, Nolan had not seen Johnny draw the gun. Then it hit him, Johnny had been a gunfighter and was now trying to leave his past behind him when he agreed to join his father and brother at Lancer.
Johnny quickly turned, and Henry saw the apprehension on the young man’s face. Nolan wondered if he could get the young Lancer to talk about his past. Johnny had not volunteered much about himself; he had not said much about anything. But they still had many miles to travel, and anything could happen before they got to his ranch. There was still time for answers, Henry thought.
By the time they’d reached Flagstaff, Johnny was more than ready to get off the stage. The confined quarters did nothing to ease his discomfort, not to mention the constant swaying and jostling that seemed to follow him long after they had disembarked the uncomfortable coach. The only positive thing about the ride was there were few other passengers, and they could sit with their legs stretched for most of the trip. They got rooms at one of the better hotels, cleaned up, and went down to dinner. Over their meal, Henry Nolan began to dig for answers.
“Johnny, have you ever been in this part of the country?” Nolan asked, thinking it was a harmless enough question.
Johnny answered without looking up, his steak occupying his attention. “Yeah, I know my way around,” he responded quietly in tones barely above a whisper. “Been a few years, though.”
“Ranch work is a hard way to make a living. Who did you work for? Any ranch around Thatcher?”
“Never worked there, passed through it a time or two.”
Getting information out of Johnny was going to be difficult, and with the brief answers he gave, there was no elaboration, no hints to Johnny’s previous life before Lancer.
“Other than handling horses, what did you do?”
Now that was a dead giveaway… Johnny set his fork on his plate and leaned back in his chair. He fixed Nolan with a stare that sent a shiver crawling down the man’s spine. “Just what is it that you’re trying so hard ta find out, Mr. Nolan? Just ask an’ maybe I’ll answer ya.” The cold eyes didn’t blink.
“I’m sorry Johnny, I don’t mean to pry, it’s just that you handle a gun very well; better than a ranch hand, and I was wondering if you were a…”
“Gunfighter?” Johnny finished the question with a raised brow as he continued to hold Nolan with his stare.
“Yes, that’s what I was getting at. A gunfighter.”
“Well, Mr. Nolan, the answer is yes. I was a gunfighter an’ now I ain’t.”
“I don’t remember hearing about Johnny Lancer, and I’ve lived here a long time,” Henry watched Johnny with puzzled eyes.
“No, ya wouldn’t a heard about Johnny Lancer,” Johnny paused before he continued. “What about Johnny Madrid?”
Henry Nolan suddenly felt as if a granite boulder was sitting in his belly.
He stood and looked down at Nolan. The man was still recovering from Johnny’s admission.
“Ya wanna come with me? Gonna go take a look at the stock they’re auctionin’ off tamorrow.” He had all he could do to not laugh at Nolan’s expression. “Ya comin’, Mr. Nolan?” and with that, Johnny turned and left the hotel dining room, not waiting for Nolan to make up his mind.
Henry Nolan thought that if there was trouble, Johnny Madrid was the man he would need. The situation was getting better and better. More than he ever allowed himself to hope for.
Johnny leaned against the top rail of the corral and assessed the horses that were to be auctioned off the following day. Two mares caught his eye, and he thought they would produce decent stock for cowponies. Then his attention was captured by a buckskin stallion standing alone in the corner of a corral placed well away from the other horses. The stallion turned his head toward Johnny as he came to rest against the top rail. They held each other’s eyes as the stallion’s ears swiveled forward, alert, challenging. He snorted and pawed the ground, then shook his head, sending the mane in a black flurry around him. The horse then stomped the ground, just for good measure.
Henry stood and watched, mesmerized at the communication between human and beast. He thought that this was too wild of an animal but then thought back as he witnessed Johnny training the horses at Lancer.
Nolan was jarred from his thoughts as the buckskin charged the fence, making Henry jump back out of the way and looked on in horror as Johnny stayed where he was, not moving… and the horse stopped, leaving no more than three feet between himself and his challenger. Henry watched as a smile tugged the corners of Johnny’s mouth, and he began the soft murmurings in the mix of Spanish and English.
Johnny’s smile deepened as he saw the large, expressive eyes study him as if to issue another challenge, or maybe in disbelief that he, Johnny, had not run away.
Then the stud tossed his head and raced around his enclosure to declare himself the champion and that this man would not win their battle of wills.
Johnny studied the animal; his confirmation, the gleam of his coat, and his attitude all spoke to Johnny. Yup, that’s a fine-lookin’ horse… wonder what the biddin’ll start at?
“Well, I seen everything I wanna see, Mr. Nolan. Unless you wanna look around, I’m ready ta get a drink an’ hit the sack.” Johnny turned to Nolan as the man tried to pull himself together. Henry had been shocked again as he watched the interaction between Johnny and the animals he so obviously loved.
“Johnny, you’re not thinking of bidding on that horse, are you?” Nolan asked as they walked to the saloon.
“Hafta wait an’ see where the biddin’ starts, but ta answer your question, yeah, I wouldn’t mind buyin’ him.”
“But he’s too wild!” Nolan persisted.
Johnny stopped to face the man. “No, Mr. Nolan. That’s spirit, an’ it’s just one of the things I like about him.” The comment signaled a close to the conversation, and Johnny turned into the White Lily Saloon.
“Well, that’s my limit; I’ll be turning in, Johnny. See you in the morning,” Henry said as he rose from his chair.
“See ya in the mornin’, Mr. Nolan,” Johnny drawled as the man walked away.
Five minutes later, Johnny left the saloon intending on going back to his room but decided, instead, that one more trip to the stock corrals was in order.
Making a quick stop to the back door of the hotel kitchen, Johnny sweet-talked the waitress into giving him an apple as he gave her his dazzling Johnny Madrid Lancer smile. He left, tucking the apple into his jacket pocket.
The horse stood alert; ears perked in Johnny’s direction as he rounded the barn. Again, a head-toss was issued, and a soft whinny accompanied the gesture. Johnny came to the fence with the apple in his hand. He took a bite and chewed slowly as the scent of the fruit carried on the breeze.
“C’mon, fella, ya know ya want this, don’t cha?” Johnny said as he coaxed the stallion to him. His soft, crooning words having their desired effect, Johnny smiled as the horse came to take the treat from his hand. He ran his palm down the buckskin’s neck, then up to his ears and, finding the sweet spot, scratched as the horse leaned into his touch.
“Ya wanna come home with me, boy? Got lots a nice ladies ta keep ya happy, sweet grass an’ cool, clean water ta fill your belly. Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” Looking for another apple, the horse nuzzled Johnny’s hand; it made him laugh. “Tell ya what, big fella, you come on home with me, an’ you can have all the apples ya want.”
“Sold! Ya bought yourself some good horses, Mister!” the auctioneer called out as the team was lead out of the corral. “Next up, Folks, oh, feast your eyes on this little filly…”
Johnny watched as horse after horse was brought out as he waited for the two mares and the buckskin he’d seen yesterday. His patience paid off as the mares came up, and the bidding began. Johnny watched as two older men waged a battle, mainly for the battle’s sake. They reminded Johnny of Murdoch attempting to best Aggie Conway in their annual friendly feud to outbid the other at Green River’s horse auction.
The arguing slowed when one of the men was heard lamenting, “Alright, ya old bastard, they’re yours!” and the crowd laughed as one man beamed in delight, and the other stomped away, his angry footfalls raised puffs of dust to drift in the wind.
“Alright! I have a bid of one hundred twenty dollars! Going… going…”
“Hundred fifty!” was heard as the auctioneer suddenly stopped.
“Did I hear one-fifty?”
“Nothin’ wrong with your hearin’. One fifty!” Johnny called out as the gavel slammed to announce a final sale, and another “Sold!” resonated across the compound. And a second disgruntled man stomped away with nothing to show for his time at the auction.
Ten minutes later, the buckskin was lead out on display. Rather, the buckskin dragged the two men trying their level best to get him into the area. The auctioneer stood and stared.
“Jake Thompson! How many times you gonna try an’ pawn this hellion off on good, hard workin’ folks? You had this troublemaker here, what, the last three auctions! We all know he’s more trouble’n what he’s worth! Ain’t none of us gonna buy that… that nuisance!” and the portly auctioneer tugged at his shaggy mustache.
“Jasper, this here’s a good horse. He’s just a mite high strung, is all!” And, as if to agree, the buckskin tossed his head, causing the men holding him to fight for balance. The crowd laughed, finding the banter as entertaining as the auction itself.
“Alright, alright, hafta go through the motions! Not that we’ll get any takers!” The crowd responded again. “I start the bid at twenty dollars! Who’ll give me twenty dollars for this… horse?” Mr. Auctioneer was not a happy man. They’d been through this many times before, and there had been no interest in a horse that needed this level of training. And Mr. Auctioneer was not the only unhappy man. Jake Thompson was red-faced with anger.
“I won’t part with that horse for less than one hundred dollars! One hundred!” Thompson glared at Mr. Auctioneer.
“Johnny, you’re not going to pay one hundred dollars for him… are you?” Henry whispered.
Johnny smiled and called out, “One hundred!”
The crowd immediately became still.
The auctioneer was speechless but gathered himself quickly. “I have one hundred; do I hear one-twenty?” The crowd was buzzing, the constant chatter, again, making the horse side-step and anxious to be away from the increasing rumble.
“Sold to the man in the red shirt!”
Johnny jumped down from the fence rail where he sat watching the proceedings, then sauntered to Jake Thompson. “Mr. Thompson, I’m Johnny Lancer from up Green River way. Ya need the cash now, or can I wire ya the money…”
“Lancer! Are you one of the Lancers that’s making a name for themselves in the horse business?” Old Jake eyed Johnny from head to toe.
Johnny nodded, “Yeah, I’m part of it,” then he smiled.
Thompson grinned and stuck out his hand. “You can wire the money when ya get home, son! Hear some good things about your operation up there, too! Good ta do business with ya! Lemme get ya some help with that wild one!” Thompson made to wave to a couple of his men.
“No need, Mr. Thompson, but thanks,” Johnny said with a friendly nod and made his way to the horse that was still causing trouble for his two handlers.
“I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Lancer!” Jake warned.
“Name’s Johnny. It’ll be alright,” and he continued on his way.
The horse was indeed riled. The crowd noise and scents had created a volatile space, and the horse was reacting. Johnny vaulted over the fence rails and slowly approached the skittish animal, all the while murmuring the smooth ramblings that he’d perfected. The horse’s ears locked on the sounds, and his nostrils flared, but he stood still as Johnny slowly reached his hand out to touch the velvet muzzle. Taking the rope from the men holding the horse, which they gladly relinquished, Johnny scratched the spot between the ears, and the horse calmed as he listened to the quiet words Johnny spoke.
The crowd watched in awe at the scene before them as Johnny Lancer took possession of the buckskin and led him away without any trouble.
Johnny wired Scott and made the arrangements to transfer funds to the previous owners of the horses. He also suggested that Cipriano and Joe ride down to pick up the stock he’d purchased as soon as possible. He thought it would have been a better idea to ship them home… if only the trains came this far south.
“Well, Johnny, you sure created a stir dealing with that horse! You could have heard a pin drop out there!” Henry Nolan said with a smirk on his face.
The stage made its last stop for the night. In another two days, they would arrive in Safford and, from there, a relatively short ride into Thatcher and Henry Nolan’s ranch. Johnny would be glad to get out of the stage… and stay out. He’d been jostled in the cramped quarters, and his brain felt scrambled from bouncing from one side of the coach to the other. The company had not been terrible, only one aggravating traveling companion, and she wasn’t on the stage very long. But Johnny had considered asking if he could ride up top.
“Wait till you see my horse, Johnny!” Henry gushed with pride. “I want you to know how much this means to me. I know that with you gone for this amount of time, others will have to cover for you, but I guarantee you won’t regret your time away. Hey, I’ll sweeten the pot! How about on the way to Susanville, you stop back at Lancer if you think your mares will be in season. Then, when Roger is ready to let the stud go, you can get him and keep him at Lancer for as long as you think necessary. How does that sound?”
Henry’s anxious eyes sparkled with excitement, and Johnny felt a twinge of apprehension begin to grow. His instincts signaled something wasn’t quite right. Was Nolan trying to pull something? He appeared a little too anxious. Was Murdoch’s friend trying to convince Johnny of something that might not be on the up and up? Johnny didn’t know but was sure, given the time, he was going to find out.
“That’s sure generous of you, Mr. Nolan. I’ll give it some thought,” Johnny said as he leaned back against his chair. Strange, that offer ta keep the horse ‘as long as I think necessary’… real strange… Even though Nolan was a friend of Murdoch’s, the two men going back years together, this was an unusual offer, to the point of sounding desperate… but was it too much?
The dinner of venison stew and fresh warm bread was delicious. Johnny thought it looked as if Nolan was settling in for a night of friendly discussion. He’s tryin’ too hard, Johnny mused, and Madrid lurked in the background ready to make an appearance. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was that set him on alert, but there was something about Nolan that Johnny didn’t trust. Sure the man had known Murdoch and was a good friend to him during some incredibly dark times. But that was years ago. A lot could happen to change a man in that amount of time, and Johnny, for one, knew that to be true. Patience, Johnny, Madrid whispered.
“What’s so funny, Johnny?” Nolan asked as he watched the corners of Johnny’s mouth turn up.
“Oh, nothin’ much. Just tryin’ ta come up with a name for the buckskin,” Johnny sighed.
“It must be humorous; you were smiling,” Nolan pressed.
“Travieso,” then Johnny fell silent.
“Ah, my Spanish isn’t the best. What does it mean?”
“Trouble, misbehavin’, naughty, take your pick.”
“Well, I, for one, think that’s a very appropriate name!”
Having wired ahead, Henry Nolan had arranged for a saddle horse for Johnny and a carriage for himself to be waiting at the stage station in Safford. The stage had not come to a halt when Johnny hopped out and landed lightly on the ground. He had never been as happy to come to the end of a trip as he was this one. Resisting the urge to rub his backside, he assisted Nolan in retrieving his luggage and crossed the street where their transportation waited.
“Señor Nolan, it is good to see you again!” the chubby liveryman greeted.
“Thank you, Manuel! It is good to be home! Manuel, I’d like you to meet Johnny Lancer; he’s the son of a very dear friend!”
Manuel automatically presented his hand, then looked into the face a drew a sharp gasp. His eyes quickly filled with tears as a huge smile spread across the full mouth.
“Señor, it is an honor to see you again.”
Johnny cut off any further comment. “The honor is mine, Manuel! How’s your family?” Johnny asked in his soft tones.
“Those who lived are fine, thanks to you! Gracias! Juanito, it is good the rumor was not true; you have made many very happy!” Manuel said, very pleased the rumors were false and this man still alive. The man responsible for the safety of most of his family.
Johnny laid a hand on the man’s shoulder and gently squeezed as he whispered, “Gracias, mi amigo.”
Nolan watched the exchange in surprise and made it a point to question Manuel after Johnny had gone.
Manuel gathered himself together and motioned to Mr. Nolan and Johnny Madrid, where the saddle horse and carriage waited. Once the luggage was secured, Nolan climbed on the seat, settled himself, then slapped the reins on the horse’s back and took the road north out of town.
“Johnny, I take it you know Manuel, he sure seemed happy to see you!” Henry said, fishing again for information.
“Yeah, I know him. His family, too. We, ah, we kinda helped each other out a few years back,” Johnny said in hopes that Nolan would drop the subject. Apparently, Nolan felt in a chatty mood.
“When you were Johnny Madrid?” Henry seemed to think it amusing, but Johnny knew he needed to keep the fact quiet now that he was here so close to the border.
Johnny reined his horse around to face Henry, forcing the man to pull up and halt his carriage.
Johnny leveled Nolan with one of his stares that would not back down. “Mr. Nolan, I gotta ask ya not ta mention Madrid while I’m here. It ain’t been that long since… well, the Rurales ain’t the kind ta forget certain things. Let’s just say I’ve never been one of their favorite people an’ leave it at that, alright?”
Nolan smiled a bit sadly. “I understand, Johnny, and I am sorry. It’s just hard not to talk about your exploits and the good you did for these people, your… sacrifice for them.”
“A lot of these folks suffered because of me, too. It’s good ta see them again, but it don’t always have a happy ending.” The words were soft, and Nolan picked up the anguish in them. Johnny turned his horse and rode ahead, leaving Henry to wonder just what exactly had happened to Johnny Madrid. There was much that was not known.
Henry Nolan pulled the carriage to a stop as he gazed out over the land below.
“There it is, Johnny, Cactus Ridge. It’s not the name I would have chosen, but my wife had her heart set on it.”
“Nice place, Mr. Nolan. Nothin’ wrong with the name. It fits. How long have ya lived here?” Johnny asked as he took in all the land around him.
“Oh, it’s close to fifteen years now,” Henry sighed, looking at his home and happy to finally be there again.
It was beautiful; vast oak woodlands covered hillsides in contrast with patches of piñon pines and junipers. Mesquite grew lower in the valley and close to the adobe house; Johnny could make out yucca and agave, no doubt planted there by a woman’s hand. The red-tiled roof added a splash of color in the late afternoon sun.
“C’mon, Johnny! I’m anxious to get home!” And with that, Henry Nolan slapped the reins on the horse’s broad backsides and sent the carriage down the road toward the house.
The dwelling was large, nowhere near the size of Lancer, but it looked comfortable enough. A sizable barn, outbuildings, and many corrals made up the area that Johnny could see, and he wondered where the stud was kept, but he would find out soon. He followed Nolan into the house and accepted the drink the man handed to him. Tossing it back, Johnny waited for Henry to speak.
“I’ll show you to a room, Johnny, and you can get cleaned up for dinner,” Nolan began.
“You don’t hafta go ta that kind of trouble. How about I just sleep in the barn an’ get an early start in the mornin’?”
“Nonsense! I won’t have the son of a dear friend sleeping in the barn when there is adequate room in the house! Come with me, and you can get settled.”
Johnny followed Henry up a short stairway and down a long hall.
“Here, you should be comfortable in here. It was my son’s room. He’s… away,” Henry said quietly.
“Nice room, but I don’t wanna mess it up for just one night. It’s no problem for me ta sleep…” Johnny’s words were cut off.
“Johnny, I want you to get a good night’s sleep. Have a good meal, rest, and then you can start back. I won’t take no for an answer!” Henry smiled.
“What I’d really like ta do, Mr. Nolan is ta see your horse,” Johnny said with a smile. He threw his saddlebags on a chair and turned to the door.
“I had no doubt that you would want to do that, but I thought you would want to have dinner at least before I show you the beast!” Henry laughed.
The horse was as Henry claimed. He was magnificent, and Johnny could not take his eyes off the impressive animal. Where the stud was not pure, the Andalusian blood was unmistakable. Whoever was responsible for breeding horses that produced this stallion definitely knew what he was doing, and Johnny knew right then, blood from this horse would improve their stock at Lancer.
The black coat was brilliant in the sun. The long mane and forelock draped over the broad forehead and neck in a glorious display. The horse stamped his hooves, making the thick, elegant feathers billow around the fetlocks like mighty ocean swells crashing on a shoreline of rocks. When he moved, the sun highlighted the muscular ripples under his coat, making them appear like undulating blue waves over a sea of black. The forelock fell across intense, bright eyes giving him a look of defiance and issued Johnny a challenge.
“Mind if I introduce myself, Mr. Nolan?” Johnny asked as he studied the majestic animal.
“I have to warn you, Johnny, no one had been able to ride him since he’s been here.”
Johnny turned to Nolan and asked the question, “How long have ya had him?”
“About four years. He’s a handful on the best of days. I really think you’d be better off riding a saddle horse and leading him until you can get him on a train,” Henry said as he began to question the wisdom of Johnny’s actions.
Four years? “It’ll be alright, Mr. Nolan,” Johnny assured the man as he stepped into the corral. Nolan’s ranch hands began to gather and mumbled amongst themselves as they watched the stranger do what none of them had been able to accomplish.
Johnny began his soft ramblings in Spanish, and the stallion’s ears flicked forward. He swore the facial expression changed to one of shock, maybe anticipation. The horse lowered his head, then raised it, never taking his eyes from Johnny’s face, and whinnied a greeting. Johnny, now close enough, extended his hand as the horse got his scent. The velvet muzzle pushed against Johnny’s fingers as his right hand reached up, palm flat against the shiny, black neck, and slid down under the long, flowing mane.
The soothing words continued as Johnny began to scratch the ears, and again, the horse leaned into his touch.
The men began to whistle and pay their lost bets as they watched the sight unfold before them.
Quietly, Johnny asked for a saddle, and quickly, a man disappeared into the barn only to reappear with his burden. He started across the corral, talking loudly, “…Hope this one’s gonna be alright…” and Johnny silenced the man and motioned for him to come around the back of the horse. Setting the gear on the ground, the man left the corral.
Running his hands over the muscular whithers and back, Johnny slowly reached for the saddle blanket. Immediately the horse sidestepped but calmed upon hearing the soft murmurings. With the saddle blanket in hand, Johnny began the tedious ritual of acquainting the horse with the gear. The horse stood still and was calm, and soon Johnny reached for the saddle.
When he lifted the heavy leather, the horse did not move. Nolan’s foreman, Stan Harris, was stunned speechless, as he watched in amazement. And when Johnny carefully stepped into the stirrup, and the horse did nothing. The mouths of twelve cowboys fell open as if on cue. Even though Nolan had seen Johnny train horses at Lancer, he looked on in awe.
The horse accepted Johnny’s weight; he stood to wait for a command, and after a moment, Johnny nudged the stud with a gentle thump to his ribs. An idea tickled his brain, and in a subtle move, he shifted his body weight on the horse, and the horse responded, not only responded, but seemed to come alive. He pranced, stepping high as the feathers swirled around his hooves. The large head came up in a noble gesture as if to say, “I am here, and don’t you forget it!” The horse moved with the grace and elegance befitting a royal mount.
Johnny guided the horse through a series of maneuvers before he brought the stud to the fence where Nolan stood. Immediately, the horse sidestepped and tossed his head, ears flat back in the long mane, his displeasure evident. Out of curiosity, Johnny moved the horse away from Nolan, and he settled. Patting the sleek, muscular neck, Johnny swung down out of the saddle and came around to the horse’s head. The gentle ongoing murmurings, intended to cement a relationship between man and beast, did their work as the stallion again leaned into Johnny’s touch.
Behind him, Johnny heard the lighthearted cowboys as they collected on their bets and the grumblings of those who’d lost. “Mr. Nolan, I’m gonna get him bedded down, and I’ll be right in,” Johnny called softly, then led the stud into the barn. With his suspicions nearly confirmed, Johnny turned away from Nolan.
The questions followed Johnny as he passed the awe-struck hands. He answered quickly what he could without stopping and did not encourage any further conversation. When he made it into the barn, an old man waved Johnny into a stall where the stud was fed and groomed.
“Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it, son! You sure know how ta deal with this hardhead! Why, in the two months he’s been here, ain’t nobody been able ta handle him! He sure has taken ta you, though!”
Johnny stopped the brushing as he listened to the old man. Two months… Well, the man could be mistaken. There’s a helluva difference between four years an’ two months… “Well, Mr…?” Johnny hesitated as he waited for the man to say his name.
“Huh? Oh, it’s Colby, just Colby, son.”
“Guess I’m gonna call it a night; maybe I’ll see ya in the mornin’ before I leave. ‘Night, Colby,” and Johnny left for the house.
Henry Nolan talked for an hour after dinner. Johnny had wanted to get to bed early and be on his way before dawn. That might not happen now. Johnny thought that maybe the man was lonely; his wife passed away, and his son was gone, the man was bound to be in need of conversation.
A framed picture on the table beside Johnny caught his eye, and he could see the resemblance between Nolan and a boy, who Johnny assumed was his son. The woman in the photograph was pretty as she gazed into the camera lens, and she held the hand of her husband on one side and her son on the other.
“That’s a nice picture, Mr. Nolan. Good ta keep the memories alive,” Johnny said quietly. Well, some memories, he admitted to himself.
“Yes, Grace was a wonderful woman! She watched over us, and when she died, well, it hit Michael pretty hard. I don’t think he ever recovered. We were a very close family, and without her, we kind of fell apart. I’m afraid that I wasn’t there like I should have been for Michael and he…”
“Ya don’t have ta say anything, Mr. Nolan,” Johnny murmured softly, knowing all too well what can happen to a boy after losing a parent… or both.
Henry met Johnny’s eyes and smiled. “Well, not everything has a happy ending. Michael is away in military school. I am hoping strict discipline can help straighten him out.”
“Guess I’m gonna turn in now, Mr. Nolan. I’ll be leavin’ early an don’t expect ya ta be getting’ up with me, so I’ll say goodbye, now. An’ thanks. I’ll take good care of your horse. Oh, one more thing. You said you had the horse for what, four years?” Johnny asked.
“Yes, Johnny, why do you ask?” Nolan was curious.
“Cuz Colby said the horse had only been here for two months.”
Nolan quickly laughed. “Oh, ah, you’ll have to forgive Colby. He had an accident six months ago, fell out of the hayloft, and hit his head. He hasn’t been quite right ever since.” The lies were becoming too comfortable, rolling off his tongue without having to give any thought about them.
Johnny nodded then went to his room.
Nolan sighed deeply, then sat with his head in his hands. He desperately wanted this to work out without putting Johnny in danger, and he sincerely hoped that Johnny would get away in time. Henry Nolan could not afford to lose that horse.
Johnny woke early. He would have left Cactus Ridge right then, except for the fact he wasn’t familiar with the country. It had been too long since he traveled here to be riding across the territory in the dark, especially with a horse that wasn’t his and a valuable horse to boot. He would have to wait for daylight.
When it was apparent that no more sleep would come, Johnny threw the blanket aside and left the bed. He washed and dressed to make his way downstairs, still sorry that he hadn’t slept in the barn. It seemed a waste to use the bed for only one night. Grabbing his saddlebags and jacket, he left the room.
Stepping into the kitchen, Johnny struck a match and touched it to the wick of the lamp. A soft light filled the spacious kitchen, and apprehension grew as he thought about snooping around in Nolan’s home for food. Not feeling right about helping himself to breakfast, he snagged two apples from a bowl on the countertop and headed out the back door.
The early morning air was fresh, but Johnny knew it wouldn’t be for very long. He’d spent enough time around this part of Arizona to know what the day would bring, but luckily, he could keep to the higher elevations, for the most part, on the way home, where the days weren’t as hot.
Johnny made it to the barn and slipped inside. He scratched a match to life against his boot and located a lamp. Then he made his way to the side of the stud and presented the gift of apple. The horse made short work of the treat, then looked for more. Johnny had to laugh as he was reminded of Barranca back home.
“Mornin’, fella. Hey, I didn’t even ask what your name was! You sure are a good lookin’ horse…” Johnny kept up the litany of ramblings, knowing mostly the sound of his voice was pleasing to the animal. He then gave the horse the other apple. “I was gonna eat that myself…”
“Who’s there?” Colby grumbled, upset that his slumber had been disturbed as he shuffled out of the tack room with a rifle ready and willing to use it.
“Just me, Colby, it’s Johnny,” he called out.
Colby yawned and scratched his chest, then scrubbed a hand over the whisker stubble on his chin, sounding as if he were sanding a piece of lumber. “You leavin’ now, Johnny?”
“Yeah, thought I’d get an early start. Hey, I didn’t ask what his name is,” Johnny smiled at the grizzled old man. Colby reminded Johnny of Jelly, in some ways.
“Mr. Nolan calls him Satan, but I don’t think the horse knows his name; he don’t seem ta know many commands at all,” the old man said. “I’ll be sorry ta see him go, though, kinda knew it wouldn’t last.”
Johnny looked at the old man.
A voice, not belonging to Colby, boomed in the quiet of the barn. “What wouldn’t last? There you are, Johnny! I was hoping I caught you before you left!” Nolan spoke loudly as he came into the barn.
Again, Johnny saw the horse’s ears go flat at the sound of the voice.
“Come into the house and get a good hot breakfast inside your belly before you leave! And I’ll have the cook pack you some provisions to eat along the trail.”
Johnny hadn’t wanted to take that kind of time, but he left the barn with Nolan, promising himself to be on the road as soon as he possibly could.
“Eat up, Johnny. It will probably be a while before you have a meal other than what’s in that pack the cook made for you,” Nolan urged. “There’s coffee in there, too, Lord knows what else, but you’re not going hungry for a while!”
“Thanks, Mr. Nolan. Well, guess I’ll be goin’ now,” Johnny rose from his chair.
“Be sure to send a telegram whenever you can, so I know where you are. Not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I want to make sure you’re alright. That horse is a handful.”
“I’ll be fine, but I’ll let ya know where I am. Thanks again, Mr. Nolan.”
The two men left for the barn, one anxious to be on his way, the other nervous and wanting this to be over and done.
Johnny saddled Satan and rode to the northwest… and home.
He had no trouble with the horse. It had the manners of a royal mount. This animal had been trained, and not by any rancher but an expert hand. Though Johnny had no reason to doubt Nolan, he now began to question how Nolan came to have the horse in his possession. It was hard to believe that Henry Nolan bought this animal from a rancher that Chiricahuas had burned out. The Indians would have, without a doubt, taken this animal with them.
It had been a few years since Johnny had worked this method of horsemanship, but it was slowly coming back to him. Only familiar with the basics of the practice and not exposed to it for very long, Johnny tried to pull from his memory what he’d learned at the Alvarez Rancho. In the beginning, Johnny had watched as the don’s segundo rode around the corral, training the magnificent horses in this technique, teaching them with an experienced hand. Then the segundo, a kind man named Esteban, let Johnny ride and taught him the basic concepts. But that was a long time ago; it seemed a lifetime.
Bits and pieces that had remained cloistered in the back of his brain now suddenly appeared as Johnny rode. He continued to speak Spanish to the horse, and the horse responded… flawlessly. Johnny had sent him into a gallop, and the stud ran for miles, his stamina surpassing any horse Johnny had ever ridden, including his beloved Barranca.
They stopped to rest by a small stream, and as the horse grazed contently on sweet grass, Johnny watched, admiring the majestic animal. He could not bring himself to call the horse Satan; the name did not fit, and the more Johnny thought, many things did not fit. He wasn’t one to jump to conclusions; this was Murdoch’s friend, a friend that had kept Murdoch sane during a tumultuous time. But neither did Johnny ignore his instincts, and they were clamoring for his attention. Johnny told himself he would have to wait and see what happened, but he would be ready for anything.
He took his time, allowing the horse to eat and drink, then stand to rest in the shade. Johnny continued talking to the steed, strengthening their bond, and assuring trust, and all the while, his eyes scanned the country around them, looking for any sign they were not alone. But nothing seemed out of place. At least for now.
They made camp for the night in a grove of oaks with junipers growing in sunny patches in between. The campsite would give them shelter and water, and as Johnny let himself relax against the saddle, he listened to the evening sounds, satisfied they were, indeed, alone. He secured the horse for the night and rubbed him down with dried grass as he gave him the attention the horse so enjoyed as he leaned into Johnny’s touch.
“Hey, I’m beginnin’ ta think that you like that, big fella. Big Fella… that’s what I’m gonna call you cuz ya sure don’t look like no Satan ta me, besides, I know that ain’t your name.”
Johnny pulled his blanket up to his chest and took his Colt in hand. Then settled his hat over his eyes and slept. Big Fella stayed on guard duty and watched over his new amigo, the kind man with the gentle voice and magic touch.
“Rafael! Come look; I think it is him!” Fernando passed the spyglass to his superior.
The man lifted the glass to peer below; he saw a man riding with ease on the majestic horse. He smiled. “Ahhh, the Don will be very happy, we have finally found his horse and the thief that took him! We will split up and surround him when he makes camp tonight, be careful and stay out of sight! We need to bring that pendejo in alive; then the Don will decide what to do with him! ¡Vámonos!”
The ground was a blur beneath the pounding hooves. The trees and rocks appeared as if a fog, so quickly they hazed together and faded from sight! He leaned over the muscular neck as the thick mane whipped over his shoulders. He could feel the muscles ripple under him as the horse stretched out, running faster and faster until Johnny thought they would leave the ground and never touch foot on earth again! Wings! The horse spread his wings!
The horse whinnied, and Johnny opened his eyes under his hat. He lay, not moving until he had a better handle of what disturbed the horse, but he listened intently and was glad he had his Colt in his hand. He would wait until he knew what he was up against… and it wasn’t long.
He heard footsteps, knowing they were all around him, and now, they hadn’t bothered to hide any noise. With no place to hide, Johnny didn’t have any other choice but to comply with their demands.
“Señor, throw away your gun, very gently, por favor, and maybe we will not kill you,” the disembodied voice called out.
Well, they ain’t Rurales… Rurales don’t have manners… Johnny thought as he slowly tossed away his gun and tipped his hat off his face to see that he was, indeed, surrounded. There were six of them, and each with a rifle pointed at his head.
“Buenos noches, caballeros,” Johnny spoke lightly, softly, and presented no danger. No one knew Madrid was here, except for Nolan and Manuel, and Manuel knew better than to mention the name of Johnny Madrid, especially this close to the border. Perhaps he could talk his way out of this. “What can I do for ya? Not much coffee left, but ya can help yourself…”
“¡Silencio! We are not here for pleasantries or to share your coffee! You are a horse thief, and we are here to bring you to justice!” the man said as he nodded to the stud.
Nope, ain’t gonna be talkin’ my way outta this one… Johnny thought as he stared at the man who appeared to be in command, then shook his head, mentally damning Henry Nolan. “What makes you think I stole this horse?”
“This horse belongs to Don Antonio Herrera. It was stolen, as you already know, two months ago, and you have him now. That is enough. Get up, now, señor!” Rafa Delgado ordered as the other five men readjusted their grips on the rifles, all of them remained aimed at Johnny’s head.
Slowly, with arms held away from his body, Johnny got to his feet. He felt his hands pulled roughly behind him as they were tied tightly. His stare had not wavered from the face of the man who now called the shots. The eyes were cold, and Johnny knew there would be no compassion from any of them. He knew these men would be loyal to their don, and in their eyes, they knew him to be a thief and could expect nothing from them.
Delgado searched his pockets, then the saddlebags. Pulling out the papers to purchase the mares and stallion, Rafe read the name and the signature of ‘Johnny Lancer’ on the documents. After a glare of disbelief, Delgado returned the papers to the saddlebags.
“Ya gonna listen…”
A large, meaty hand, balled into a fist, connected with Johnny’s jaw in a mighty blow. He staggered back a step as the punch reverberated in his skull, then shook his head and spat blood onto the ground. He glared at his attacker, defiant, not showing any fear, and let Madrid put in an appearance.
The smile on his antagonist’s face faded away as he met the ice in Johnny’s eyes. Now, it was he that took a step back. Suddenly, the man didn’t feel as superior as he did before, but to save face, he pulled himself to full height and straightened the bandoleros that crossed his chest as if to show himself superior. He wanted to see this thief back down and show fear. No one steals from Don Antonio Herrera!
Johnny spat again, this time at the man’s feet. And meeting the large man’s eyes, Johnny smirked in a gesture of disdain and dismissal. The large man took a step forward but was halted when the jefe spoke.
“Nacho! Enough! Take the first watch. ¡Ahora!” Delgado ordered.
Johnny turned to Nacho with a sweet grin, and even though he was tied, the message was clear, and the big man stalked away. One of these days, I’m gonna get myself killed doin’ that… Johnny smiled to himself, then settled in for a long and uncomfortable night.
They had been riding most of the day and had not stopped to rest. A horse could travel great distances if not ridden hard, and these men knew how to get the most out of their mounts. When they broke camp that morning, Johnny was not allowed near the horse. Later, he learned, the horse’s name was Corazon Valiente, Courageous Heart. The name fits better’n Satan, Johnny thought to himself.
During their first day of travel, Johnny began putting the pieces of this situation together, but without much luck. The first question he had was, why did Nolan set him up? And why did Nolan steal the horse? Nothing made any sense. However, there was one thing that began to concern him, and that was the fact they were heading toward Mexico…
The men talked amongst themselves and avoided conversation with Johnny. He needed answers, and soon but would he get those answers before it was too late?
Henry Nolan was worried. He should have heard from Johnny three days ago. So far, there had been nothing. He was desperate; he needed the money that breeding the horse would bring. It seemed the answer to his prayers. The legal bills were piling up, and Michael was running out of time. Henry was doing the best he could to keep his son from the hangman’s noose, but now he had put an innocent man in danger. And not just an innocent man, he was the son of a friend. All Nolan could do was hope Johnny Lancer was alright; after all, wasn’t he the legendary Madrid? He would know how to handle any situation… wouldn’t he? And Henry hoped that Murdoch would somehow forgive him if something went wrong.
Johnny tried to stretch the ache in his back; the guard immediately shifted his rifle in the direction of his prisoner, and that made Johnny grin. The corner of Nacho’s lip curled up, reminding Johnny of a mongrel dog defending a bone, and he couldn’t help the smirk that crawled across his lips; then, he could have sworn that he heard Nacho growl. And that made Johnny laugh out loud. Where he had no illusions about getting out of this unscathed, if he could cause enough turmoil, just maybe he could make something happen and attempt an escape. And ol’ Nacho seemed to be a good place to start.
Nacho got to his feet. Maybe he could teach this thief something… Rafa was gone with Vega looking for safer passage through these mountains, and he, Nacho, had been left in charge. He advanced on the prisoner and puffed his chest to emphasize his self-inflated importance.
“Ah, ah, ah, Nacho, what would your boss say?” Johnny taunted as the man kept coming, the insolent grin doing its job. “Ya gonna at least let me get ta my feet?” As Johnny got his legs under him, he glanced around and located the other three men. It was a long shot, and Johnny thought it was probably not the smartest move he’d ever made, but something would come out of it. He just didn’t know if it would be good or bad.
“Ya lookin’ ta get a bonus, or is this the only way ya can get the advantage, fightin’ a man that’s got his hands tied behind his back?” Johnny needled, his smile deepening as he watched the battle this man fought with himself as he tried to maintain control, not only the situation but in his mind.
“Yeah, seen a lotta men like you, likes ta push folks around. It make ya feel important? Ain’t got the brains ta deal with a problem, so ya use your size ta force people ta do whatcha want ‘em ta do.” Keep comin’ pendejo. “Hey, I bet ya gotta tie women ta the bed so ya can…”
Johnny launched his foot out in a kick that flattened the man’s testicles with the toe of his boot.
Nacho howled in pain. He dropped his rifle as the excruciating agony knifed through him, and he hit the ground with enough force that Johnny could have sworn he felt tremors under his boots. The three guards came running before Johnny could slip down in between the rocks and escape. With bullets chewing the ground around his feet, Johnny skidded to a stop, his arms were seized, and he was dragged back to the place where he’d been sitting.
Nacho rolled on the ground, clutching his bruised anatomy. Groaning loudly, he struggled to his feet, took one step, and grunted, then limped heavily to where Johnny stood trapped between two of the guards. With tears in his eyes from the pain, Nacho drew back with both fists, landing them into Johnny’s stomach. The blows kept falling until a rifle shot pierced the late morning air.
Delgado poured the water over the prisoner’s head. The man on the ground coughed, then coughed again as the water ran into his nose and down his throat. Still tied, he rolled onto his side and hissed as the rocky ground did nothing to comfort the deep bruising on his ribs.
Johnny’s eyes shot open, trying to see the man standing over him and hoped it wasn’t Nacho… Ol’ Nacho ain’t gonna be doin’ too much of anything for a day or two… he thought with a smile, then groaned as his lip, again, split open.
“That was a foolish move. What did you hope to accomplish, Señor… Lancer?”
Johnny fought to get his legs under him and stand. He wasn’t one to look up at anyone, well, except for Murdoch. Rafa helped Johnny to a boulder, keeping a hand on his arm to ensure Johnny was stable and wouldn’t fall off the rock.
He’d already hit his head during the beating from Nacho, and it exploded with pain as he stood on unsteady feet.
For the first time, Rafa looked into Lancer’s eyes, and even though squinted in the bright sunlight, Rafa could see a slice of dark blue that made him pause. Was this…? No, he was dead. Rafa waited for the man to regain awareness. He appeared slightly disabled at the moment, but after the escape attempt, Rafa was not going to take any chances.
Johnny looked into his captor’s face and offered a bit of a grin. “Don’t suppose you’d untie my hands, would ya?”
Rafa stared, not reciprocating the grin. “And why would I do that? You tried to escape.”
“Well, in case ya can’t see too good, I ain’t up for another attempt at the moment,” Johnny mumbled through a swollen mouth.
Without breaking eye contact, Rafa reached into his boot and pulled out a knife. Leaning behind Johnny, he sliced through the ropes that left Johnny’s wrists raw and bloody.
“Thanks,” Johnny groaned after a deep breath left him gasping. As he sat on the rock, Johnny made an assessment of his body. He didn’t think any ribs were broken, just hurt like hell, but he knew he’d hit his head, whether on rocks or rifle butt, he wasn’t sure. But he thought in a few days that he would be all right.
“I think we will make camp here for the night. I do not think that Nacho will be able to sit on his horse, so we stay here,” Rafa announced.
Johnny shrugged. “No, don’t s’pose he will,” he said as he watched the man sitting at a peculiar angle on the ground.
During the time he had become conscious, and throughout the evening, Johnny was cognizant of the glances Delgado cast his way. The man had something on his mind, and Johnny needed to find out what it was. Most importantly, was he a supporter of the Rurales? If that were the case, Johnny wouldn’t have much time to put another escape plan into action. And if successful, his first stop was going to be at Henry Nolan’s front door… without waiting for an invitation to enter.
Rafa Delgado left his place by the fire and settled at Johnny’s side, hoping to confirm his suspicions. This Lancer had him wondering.
They had not re-tied his hands, for which Johnny was grateful, and he was able to sit in relative comfort but knew his bruising would be more painful in the morning. He looked over at Nacho and knew the man to be in misery.
“Tell me, Señor… Lancer,” Delgado began softly, almost kindly.
“Johnny,” Johnny said with a smile.
“Sí, Johnny…,”
At Rafa’s hesitation, Johnny came to full attention.
“Johnny, it is plain to see you are of… mixed blood,” Rafa began.
“Half-breed” was viciously spat from across the camp.
Rafa looked on in surprise as Johnny laughed and grabbed to support his ribs. “Hey, Nacho, hope ya ain’t got any plans of startin’ a family real soon!”
The camp erupted in howls of laughter, then calmed. Nacho turned his back to them all as he sat in embarrassed silence and leaned heavily to one side.
Rafa had time to clear the smile from his face as he watched Johnny. He thought this man looked perfectly at ease and did not appear to be offended with the slur.
Johnny turned his attention to Delgado. “So, what’d ya wanna talk ta me about?”
“Only that I watched you riding Don Herrera’s horse. You seemed to have control over him. That was most unusual; not many can handle a horse with that spirit. Where did you learn it?” Rafa wondered if their talk would produce any answers.
Johnny stared at Delgado, knowing the man was fishing. Well, Johnny was fishing, too, and he wondered which one of them would get their answers first. Johnny played the game well. He was not too anxious to divulge much information until he had his answers, though.
“Oh, picked it up here an’ there. Started when I was a kid, but no one wanted a mestizo brat hangin’ around for very long, so everywhere I went, I kept my eyes an’ ears open for anything I could pick up. I learned a lot on my own. So, as long as we’re talkin’, let me ask you this: Where’re ya takin’ me?”
Delgado smiled. “Sonora, Cananea to be exact.”
Damn! Cananea is overrun with Rurales, used ta be, anyway… “Cananea’s a long way. Any possibility that Señor Herrera can meet us at the border? Meet us halfway?”
“No, that is not a possibility. You see, Don Antonio Herrera does not like the Rurales, and it has taken a very long time for them to leave Cananea. They are now mostly gathered closer to Nogales to the west and along the border in Chihuahua. But they still travel across the land that they once inhabited.”
“What about you? How do you feel about the Rurales?” Johnny asked as the corner of his mouth turned up, and his apprehensions began to fade.
“I suppose they had their place at one time. But I do not think what they were doing was in the best interest of the people. And then they turned greedy. So, to answer your question, I do not want anything to do with them.” Delgado inwardly smiled. He was reasonably confident in his assumption.
Both men grinned. They each had their questions answered.
With a shaking hand, Henry Nolan wrote out the telegraph message he’d been dreading. He made it as brief and concise as he possibly could. He knew that his friend, Murdoch Lancer, would not take too kindly that his son had gone missing trying to do him a favor and sincerely hoped Murdoch would never find out what was behind all this. He had to have that horse! If he could just get the animal up to Susanville, the money would begin to roll in, and Henry’s troubles would be over.
For days it had been on his mind, where was that horse? And it was only then that Henry thought of Johnny’s welfare, and he felt sick. He’d put all his concern on his problem, and now he wondered if Johnny was alright. Was he even alive?
Rafael Delgado smiled. Never in his life had he thought he would be in the presence of a legend, and although he wasn’t one hundred percent sure, he would have bet copious amounts of money on the fact, if he had copious amounts of money.
Rafa reined his horse to slow and pulled alongside Johnny, riding double behind Juan Vega.
“Señor, there is something that has been troubling me. I wonder if you could enlighten me, por favor?” Delgado watched Johnny’s eyes as if searching for more pieces of the puzzle.
“If I can. What’d ya wanna know?” Johnny asked, knowing where this was leading.
“Have you ever been to Mexico before?”
Johnny could not hold back the grin. “Sí, grew up along the border.”
Rafa sat in his saddle, not responding for a minute, then turned to Johnny with a laugh. He reached behind into his saddlebags, retrieved Johnny’s Colt and rig, and handed them over.
“Welcome back, Señor Madrid! ¡Juan! ¡Detener!” (stop)
Juan Vega pulled his horse to a stop. Johnny slid off the back, settled his rig around his hips, and readjusted it fit tight and secure.
Nacho sat in stunned silence, livid at the fact that this half-breed had seemed to slink his way into Rafa’s good graces.
“Domingo! Bring me the horse!” Rafa ordered as he began to laugh out loud. “Señor Madrid, it would be an honor for you to ride Corazon Valiente!”
Johnny grinned back, then swung into the saddle as the stunning horse tossed his head and pranced his pleasure with his rider, and Delgado’s men stared in awe.
Johnny looked to Nacho and grinned. Then he fell in alongside Rafa and, after several minutes, asked: “So when was this horse taken from Don Herrera?”
“It has been over two months now. Why do you ask?”
“Just wonderin’ how long he’s been missin’, is all,” and Johnny knew that old Colby had been telling the truth, and that meant that Murdoch’s old and dear friend was a horse thief and a liar.
“If I may ask, Johnny, how did you come to be in possession of him?” Delgado was puzzled. He knew Madrid did not steal the stallion.
Johnny shrugged. Where he had no proof that Henry Nolan actually stole the horse, he knew the man was involved somehow and vowed to get to the bottom of it. Whatever mess Nolan had gotten himself into, he made the mistake of dragging Johnny along with him. Now Johnny knew he had to make an explanation that had the potential to hurt Murdoch’s friend.
“I was doin’ a favor for a man an’ as payment; he was goin’ ta lend me the horse for stud. I don’t know how he came to have this horse, but I can tell ya one thing, I’m goin’ back ta ask him, an’ I will get an answer. What do ya think the chances are that Don Herrera will let me handle this?” Johnny asked as he watched Rafa’s face.
“Don Herrera is no fool. He is taking the theft of his horse very seriously, make no mistake,” Rafa said, but then turned to face Johnny as a smile crept across his face. “But he is a reasonable man.”
“I need ta send a wire to my family. They don’t know what’s happened an’ don’t want ‘em to worry,” Johnny said, knowing that Murdoch would be anxious for word from him. Johnny, at this moment, would settle for confronting Nolan, but that would come in time.
Delgado turned to face Johnny and pierced him with a hard stare. “Family? Johnny Madrid has a family?”
Johnny laughed. “Yeah, I have a family. Long story, but I got one, an’ I know they’re waitin’ on word from me.”
Rafa thought a minute before he spoke. “We need to keep moving south, but as soon as we reach Cananea, Señor Herrera can send word for you.”
It was the best that he could expect, and Johnny would have to accept it. He sincerely hoped that it would be good enough.
Once again, they headed for Cananea, and Johnny rode with Rafa, secure in the knowledge he was no longer a prisoner. They skirted around Tucson, not wanting to draw any attention to themselves, and were now in the mountains far to the south. In just a few days, they would be meeting with Don Herrera to give him back what had been stolen.
The message that seconds ago was in Murdoch’s hand fluttered to the desktop. It was brief, but it was enough to send waves of fear throughout the large man. Johnny was missing. There had been no communication from him, as Henry had asked. Maybe Johnny got sidetracked? Maybe he spent time in town and got into a poker game? No! Not with that horse in tow… he would want to get the job done as quickly as he could and not attract attention… Murdoch began to have more rational thoughts. It was a natural thing to worry about his sons, especially Johnny, but Johnny was a grown man with a good head on his shoulders. He could have gotten detained any of a hundred different ways.
Murdoch would give it two days. If Nolan didn’t hear anything in the next two days, then Murdoch would start to worry. Johnny’s fine… As a precaution, he would wire Henry to let him know his thoughts and to let him know if he received any word from his son.
“The border is just ahead, Johnny. I will send Vega there to watch for Rurales. If we have no trouble, we will be at Don Herrera’s villa in a few days,” Rafa Delgado announced. He pulled his horse to a halt and gave instructions to Juan. The young man nodded, then went about the errand.
Johnny watched intently, his senses alert and heightened, being this close to Mexico. He was still a wanted man there. The Rurales would stop at nothing to lay their hands on his hide. The name Madrid was hated, and the Rurales would not think twice about throwing him back into their prison after, of course, they taught him a lesson, or lessons, for a few weeks. Then he would undoubtedly find himself facing another firing squad, and this one would be the final chapter to the life and rowdy times of Johnny Madrid. Johnny just hoped Don Herrera was the man Delgado said he was.
He observed Rafa’s men. After they found out that he was Madrid, most of them expressed their thanks for the things he had done, if not for themselves, then for their families. Their stories touched him deeply, and even though he felt there was no reason to thank him, he was eternally grateful he had the opportunity to help those who needed him most. They had approached him, one by one during their travels, and told of the plight of their families, often with tears in their eyes, and how their mothers and fathers, sisters, brothers, and friends were alive because of Madrid’s help. And they told him that they knew what it had cost him. They knew…
“Scott!… SCOTT!” The troubled shout echoed off the walls as Murdoch Lancer read the last telegram from Henry Nolan. Murdoch knew he had to get control of his emotions. They were running wild and unrestrained, and he knew he would not be able to make any sound decisions unless he could rein them in.
Scott came down the stairs three at a time, worry shrouding his fine, aristocratic features. “Murdoch, what is it? What’s wrong?” Coming to a stop in front of the massive desk, he saw the trepidation on his father’s face. It was a look Scott had never seen there before, and he was shaken. “Murdoch?” he asked in a softer tone as his father lifted his anxious and worried eyes to his.
“I just received word from Henry Nolan; he still hasn’t heard from Johnny… Henry’s ranch is so close to the border. I… I can’t help but think the worst, Scott. Your brother is still wanted there.” With a sigh, Murdoch sat in the leather chair and scrubbed his hands across his face.
Scott watched as Murdoch seemed to wither at the possibility that Johnny had been captured by the Rurales. This was not the Murdoch that Scott knew. His father had always been the epitome of strength and reason, and Scott knew this would be Murdoch’s undoing should tragedy befall Johnny. He picked up the missive and read the brief words.
“I’m riding into Green River and send Mr. Nolan a wire that we’re on our way. Then I’m going to talk to Val. He needs to be here to receive any messages that come in after we leave. He can pass them along if it’s something we need to hear. We can let him know what towns we will be traveling through as we go.” And without waiting for Murdoch’s consent, Scott was out the door on his way into town.
“Evenin’, Scott, what brings you inta town so late?” Val asked as he waited for the tall man to tie his horse at the hitch rail.
Scott looked up, and Val read the worry that laced the blue-gray eyes.
“Val, I need to talk to you inside.” He stepped past the lawman and proceeded into the sheriff’s office.
Uh oh, Val thought. Don’t like the sound a this… then he followed Scott and shut the door.
“What’s the trouble, Scott?” Val asked as he settled onto his rickety chair behind his desk. He motioned for Scott to help himself to coffee in the pot that simmered on the stove. Scott declined.
“It’s Johnny, Val; he’s missing.”
“What’d ya mean ‘missin’? When’s the last ya seen ‘im?” Val sat forward and leaned his arms on the messy desktop.
“He left over two and a half weeks ago. He and a friend of Murdoch’s, a Henry Nolan, went to Nolan’s ranch. Johnny was going to bring Mr. Nolan’s horse back and take it up to Susanville, and in exchange, we could use the horse for stud. Johnny left Nolan’s ranch and was to send messages along the way, just to keep in touch. Nolan hasn’t heard anything from him, and it’s been over a week now. Murdoch’s worried that somehow the Mexican authorities got word of Madrid. Nolan isn’t that far from the border.”
That explains why he ain’t been inta town… He knew Johnny had gone to check on some horses but thought he would be busy at the ranch catching up on things that had piled up in his absence. “Why did he think Johnny had ta keep in touch? The horse worth a lot?”
“According to Mr. Nolan, yes, he is. Nolan claimed him to be of Andalusian blood and suggested that we breed him with our stock. Nolan is an old friend of Murdoch’s and, Johnny went to check out the horse for himself. He was apprehensive as Nolan had no documentation on the horse. He said the papers were destroyed when Indians burned out a ranch, and the rancher needed money, so he sold Nolan the horse.”
“What Indians?” Val asked, now more than suspicious.
“Chiricahuas, does it make any difference?” Scott asked.
Val’s eyes grew wide. “Hell, yeah, it makes a difference! Ain’t no Chiricahua worth his salt that’d leave a horse like that behind, not ta mention there ain’t been no attacks for the last coupla years. Something’s wrong, Scott. I think that we need ta get down there an’ check things out. Where the hell is this ranch, anyway?”
“A place called Thatcher, just north of Safford in Arizona…”
“Yeah,” Val interrupted. “Me an’ your brother been through there a buncha times. I know ‘xactly where you’re talkin’ ‘bout. An’ you’re right; it ain’t all that far from Mexico. If them Rurales think Madrid is that close, they won’t think nothin’ ‘bout sendin’ some men across the Rio ta get ‘im. What’d you an’ Murdoch thinkin’ ta do?”
“We’re leaving in the morning. It will be slow going with Murdoch’s back, but he won’t be able to take a stagecoach that far. At least riding, we can stop when we need to, and I know he’s not about to stay at the ranch. If your suspicions are correct regarding how he got that horse, Murdoch will want to be there to confront Nolan himself. We thought to have you see that any correspondence got passed along to us as we traveled. We will let you know where we are, and if something comes in for us, you could send it through to our next stop. Would that be alright, Val?”
“Hell, I was fixin’ on goin’ with ya, but if ya want me ta stay an’ watch over this end, I can do that. ‘M gonna wire over to a marshall down that way an’ see if there’s any wanted posters out for Madrid an’ have ‘em called in. Anything I can help with, well, ya know, I’ll do want I can. An’ if ya need me, ‘ll be there.”
“Thanks, Val, I know you will. We’ll send word if we find out anything. See you when we get back.” Scott stepped out onto the boardwalk, mounted Remmie, and turned the horse north out of Green River.
Val leaned back in his chair, fingers tented as he thought over the things Scott had just told him. Val wasn’t a religious man, but now he prayed that his amigo was alright.
Corazon Valiente moved as if guided by some ethereal hand, for, indeed, he moved with the grace of the gods. Johnny was impressed with every facet of the animal, but now, he knew, the notion of using the horse for stud was not going to happen. Rafael Delgado assured him that Don Antonio Herrera could prove ownership. The horse was stolen, and somehow Henry Nolan came into possession. And Johnny was going to find out how that came to be.
The Rio Grande was just ahead, and Delgado halted his men. They would wait for Juan Vega to finish scouting along the river for signs of the Rurales. With any luck, they could get Johnny and Corazon Valiente onto the Herrera rancho with no trouble. The Rurales had been quiet lately, but then Johnny Madrid had not been around to send them into their panic-stricken, mad-dog ways.
“Rafa! Look, there is Juan!” called Jorge Medina.
Rafa watched the young vaquero as he raced along the river, crossed the water, and reached his jefe’s side.
“I have good news, Rafa! No patrols are going through. The last one was yesterday and is not scheduled to return for several days. It is clear! We can go now!” Juan reported, with a smile growing from ear to ear.
“Bueno! Let us go, muchachos!” Delgado waved to his men, and they filed into the water and crossed into Mexico.
Johnny felt his belly flip over. Mexico was definitely not where he wanted to be going. Yup, Nolan’s got a lot of explainin’ ta do…
“Murdoch, how are you holding up?” Scott asked when they stopped to rest the horses.
The Lancer Patriarch stretched the sore back muscles and grunted. “I’ll be alright when we find Johnny. I hope to hear some news from Val along the way. It is possible that Johnny took the fastest way home and just didn’t stop to let Henry know…” Murdoch put a voice to his thoughts, but he knew in his heart that was not the case. Johnny would have sent Nolan word of his whereabouts if that had been the agreed-upon plan.
“Well, if that’s what happened, you’ll excuse me when I strangle him for this unnecessary trip, not to mention all the worry he’s caused.”
“You will have to get behind me, Scott, because if we find that to be true, I claim first in line, and your brother will be lucky to sit a saddle for a month when I get through with him.” The words, Murdoch knew, were said hoping that it would be the outcome, but in his heart, he knew it would not be the case.
Johnny watched Nacho during the ride to Herrera’s rancho. The man was still limping and sitting off-center in his saddle, and Johnny wondered if he had caused any permanent damage, but when he thought about the situation, he didn’t feel too bad about it. The ride didn’t do the bruised ribs any good, and where Johnny refused to let it show, the discomfort had been substantial for a while, especially while traveling these many miles. Johnny never took too kindly to be manhandled, especially when escape was paramount.
Now Johnny’s main concern was getting in touch with his family and letting them know he was alright. But he would also let Murdoch know he was going to confront Henry Nolan. Johnny knew his father would not want that to happen, but then Murdoch didn’t know what had transpired up to this point, and regardless, friend of Murdoch’s or not, Nolan would talk.
“Johnny, we are not far from the rancho. It is only a few more miles,” Rafa said with a smile.
Johnny would not relax until he was safely back across the border, and hopefully, that would be in the next day or two. But, he would make the best of Herrera’s hospitality. A soak in a tub of hot water would be very welcome. A good meal in his belly and a night of sound sleep… hell, he’d be ready to confront Nolan without shooting him first.
The sight below rivaled Lancer, maybe even surpassed it. The hacienda gleamed in the afternoon sun; its low adobe walls accented with trailing vines and colorful flowers. The closer Johnny came, the more impressed he was, though he would not show it. He could now see activity around the neat yard in front as vaqueros hurried to their places, rifles at the ready. Somewhere a bell sounded, most likely to announce their arrival. As most hacendados, Herrera had a lookout set up, and Johnny hoped this time it wasn’t because of the Rurales.
The large iron gate swung open and allowed them to enter the immediate grounds to the hacienda. Johnny took in everything, guards, where they were positioned, and how many there were. It never hurt to note what was what.
Greetings were exchanged as vaqueros welcomed those who had just come home. Johnny was the recipient of many glares as men recognized the stallion that had been stolen, and suddenly there were rifles pointed at Johnny’s head. Hands were on him, pulling him out of the saddle when Rafa spoke.
Rafael Delgado issued a stern warning, ordering those with rifles to put them away, that this was not the thief. Nacho grunted in defiance, earning him a harsh reprimand from the jefe.
The massive solid oak front doors opened as Don Antonio Herrera stepped out into the courtyard. His tall, slim stature exuded authority and influence. The broad smile told of his pleasure at regaining possession of the stallion, and he turned cold eyes on Johnny, looking him over from head to toe. Then he turned again toward his segundo.
“Rafa! Welcome home! Ah, you have found Corazon Valiente!” Herrera went to the horse and stroked the animal’s sleek neck but wondered at the mestizo that had been allowed to ride the horse. His question was quickly answered when Rafa told the tale.
“Señor Herrera, I would like to present Johnny Madrid,” Rafa said. No other words were necessary.
Shock flooded Herrera’s features as he turned to Johnny. “Señor Madrid! It is an honor to meet you, but I do not understand— The people were told you faced the firing squad; how is it that you are alive and in Mexico? The Rurales are still hunting for you, sí?”
“Señor Herrera, would it be possible to finish this conversation somewhere… private, por favor?” Johnny asked as he watched Nacho turn away from the yard. He was uneasy as it was without having the man listening to everything he said. After all, Nacho was still limping, and nursing squashed balls was a very… personal and private issue. He might be of a mind to exact revenge. Johnny would be sure to keep his eye on the man.
“Of course, Señor Madrid! This way, por favor!” Then Herrera led the way into the cool interior of the hacienda. Upon entering a room appointed with ornate Spanish furniture, Don Antonio called for refreshments and bade Johnny sit in a comfortable, leather chair.
Johnny hesitated; he was not about to disrespect Herrera’s hospitality by messing up the man’s furniture. He had just come in from riding… how many days without cleaning up? He remained standing and offered a chagrined smile. “Meanin’ no disrespect, Señor Herrera, but I think it would be better I don’t drag any more dust an’ dirt inta your hacienda… haven’t had any time ta clean up,” Johnny said as he shrugged.
“Señor Madrid…”
“Johnny, my name’s Johnny, por favor,” Johnny said with a humble smile.
Herrera returned the smile. “Sí, Johnny, I will have accommodations ready for you, but first, may I ask how you came to be riding Corazon Valiente?”
Johnny had always taken the direct approach and hoped it wouldn’t be the wrong move here. “Señor, don’t mean ta step outta line here, but before I answer, I need to ask you, can you prove this is your horse?”
Herrera frowned at first, then realized this man needed that proof to know the legal owner of such a horse. “Sí, I have the papers locked in the safe. This way, if you please.” Antonio Herrera led the way into his private study.
The room, decorated in the same Spanish style, confirmed this man wealthy, undoubtedly, with old money from Spain. Herrera was a very powerful man with a very powerful name.
He closed the safe and handed Johnny legal documents of ownership and the horse’s lineage. After scanning the documents, noting dates, names, and identification, Johnny handed the papers over to Herrera, which he immediately returned to the safe.
“If you will come with me, Johnny, I can show you that the mark you saw there on the document corresponds with the mark on the horse. This way, por favor!”
Johnny watched, noting Herrera did not seem to be offended in providing proof of ownership, and the man understood the position Johnny found himself in. Johnny suppressed a huff. What’s gonna happen if that mark ain’t on the horse. Don’t think I’m gonna get outta this without trouble… Johnny followed as Don Herrera stepped through open patio doors and proceeded across the grounds to an immaculate stable.
Once inside, his eyes adjusted to the dark interior to see the stallion carefully tended. At Johnny’s entrance, the stud nickered and swiveled his ears in Johnny’s direction. Herrera watched in awe as Johnny approached the animal and greeted the horse. And the horse was pleased, accepting the attention and relishing the touch.
“Inside the left foreleg, you will find the mark. Here, it is dark; you will need this.”
Johnny turned as the groom handed him a lantern. He silently sent up a word of thanks and felt as if he should be making the sign of the cross on his chest. The mark was a perfect match.
“Someplace outside where we can talk? I really don’t want ta be in your house until I can get cleaned up,” Johnny asked with his brilliant smile.
“This way,” Herrera said with a hearty laugh.
The courtyard was beautiful. Comfortable chairs arranged beneath olive trees that shaded the spot from the blaze of the afternoon sun provided a place to sit. The air was scented with fragrant flowers that brightened the area in a riot of color, and yucca and other cactus blended in perfect contrast. It was a relaxing place, and Johnny could feel some of the tensions drain from his body.
Refreshments were served, and as Johnny sipped the cool drink, he told Herrera the story of how he came to be riding Corazon Valiente.
“I was doin’ a favor for a friend of my father’s an’…” he stopped his narration upon seeing the expression on Don Herrera’s face. Johnny couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, Johnny Madrid has a family.”
“Please, Johnny, forgive my ignorance, but I have never heard of a family, and I am puzzled,” and it clearly showed in Herrera’s eyes.
“Well, my father is still alive, an’ he sent for me about two years ago. With all due respect, that’s a story for another time.”
Herrera nodded. “Of course, Johnny, proceed, por favor.”
“This friend of Murdoch’s… ah, my father, asked if I would escort his horse to northern California for stud, an’ on the way back, I could breed him with our stock. I asked him if he had papers for the horse. I needed proof the horse was what he claimed it to be. He said that the documents were lost when Indians attacked the ranch of the original owner, and the rancher had to sell the stallion. He needed the money, so this friend of my father’s bought the horse.”
Herrera seemed deep in thought, and Johnny knew the man would ask the pertinent question. And he was not disappointed.
“Who is this man, this ‘friend’ of your father?” The black eyes looked up and caught Johnny’s as he smiled.
Not feeling any loyalty to the man, Johnny answered, “Name’s Henry Nolan. He has a ranch in Thatcher, Arizona, but before ya send any men ta question him, I wanna ask if you could hold off until I confront him first. I don’t take too kindly that he lied ta me.” Johnny held the stare. He studied the face of Don Antonio Herrera and thought him to be an honorable man. Herrera was still for a moment, then he stood.
“There is a room and a hot bath waiting for you, Johnny. In the morning, or whenever you wish, my men will help you to cross the border safely.” With that said, Herrera walked into the hacienda, leaving Johnny to wonder what exactly the man would decide to do.
Gonna be here till mornin’ anyway, might as well take that bath. Sure could use one… Johnny thought as he wrinkled his nose when he got a whiff of himself. He undressed and carefully set his dirty clothes on the floor. The best he could do would be to shake them out before he put them back on. But until then, he soaked in the water and let it soothe the soreness out of his ribs. He felt his eyes begin to slide shut until a light tap on the door roused him.
“It’s open,” he called softly, but not before he had the Colt in his hand. He came fully alert when the portal opened to find a middle-aged woman with clean clothes in her arms. She smiled sweetly, placed the clean outfit on the bench, and then bent to remove his dirty clothes.
“I will see to it these are cleaned, Señor. Do not worry, I will take good care of them for you,” and she grinned at the blush that crept across the young man’s face.
“Gracias, Señora,” Johnny replied, then smiled at the closed door.
Johnny scrubbed his hide and left the tub. The clothes the woman left for him fit remarkably well. Johnny grinned at himself in the mirror. He looked like a haciendado’s son. Boy, if Murdoch could see him now! Murdoch! Mierda! He needed to send a wire…
Johnny left his room and sought out Don Herrera. He made his way through the hacienda and found him, once again, in the courtyard. He stepped out the door and greeted his host.
“Señor Herrera, I need ta send a wire, is there anywhere close I can do that? Don’t want my family ta worry,” Johnny asked, hoping for the answer that would relieve the anxiousness he felt.
“I am sorry, but the nearest place is back across the border,” Herrera watched the eyes of Madrid as he came to terms with the announcement.
Johnny shrugged, then looked at his host and smiled. “Guess they’re gonna have to wait.”
“You have more than a father waiting to hear from you?”
“Yeah, got a brother, a couple of years older’n me.” Johnny laughed, “He treats me like a kid!”
Johnny Madrid, treated like a child! Herrera couldn’t help himself, and he, too, laughed. “Come and dine with me, Johnny; dinner is served,” he extended an arm indicating the dining room.
Johnny took his seat at the large table. Rafa Delgado shared the meal served to them by the mayordomo. Johnny hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he began to eat. Then he remembered his manners.
“I want ta thank you for the use of these clothes, Señor Herrera. Feels good ta have somethin’ clean ta wear.” Johnny grinned as he turned his attention to his plate. The food smelled like heaven! The cook at Lancer held the spices to a minimum, for the most part, but Johnny knew this meal would be more to his liking, and he wasn’t disappointed. Finally, he shoved back from the table.
“Gracias, Señor Herrera, it was excellent. Don’t think I could eat another bite!” Johnny laughed as he stood.
“I think I would enjoy some tequila in the courtyard. You will join me, Johnny, por favor? Rafa?”
Johnny stopped, then looked to the kitchen. “Señor, por favor, I’d like to say gracias to your cook,” and he nodded his head to the door.
“Sí, of course!” Herrera smiled as Johnny disappeared into the other room. Herrera and Rafa waited for Johnny to return, and when he did, Johnny wore a slight blush but said nothing.
The drinks under the stars were of the highest quality tequila that Johnny had had in a long time. Murdoch’s tequila was almost as good, but not quite.
Savoring the drink, Johnny turned to watch the moon rise over the mountains. The moon in October was full and brighter than Johnny had seen in a long time.
Herrera observed his guest and followed where the young man’s interest lay. He grinned.
“A Hunter’s Moon. It is said that the Indians used this moon for hunting their food and stock it for the upcoming winter,” Herrera said quietly, as if not wanting to disrupt the peaceful night.
“Heard it called a Blood Moon when it turns a red color,” Johnny murmured, wondering which it would be when he confronted Nolan…
“Come, Johnny, Rafa, let us relax,” and Herrera guided them to sit with him. As Johnny settled into his chair, Herrera asked, “Johnny, Rafa has told me that there was… trouble between you and Nacho. Are you alright?”
Johnny shrugged. “Yeah, I’m alright, ol’ Nacho got the worst of that fracas,” he looked to Rafa and couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.
“I am having Nacho watched. It seems he is not happy with you, and I will not stand for retaliation from him. The man has a nasty temper and has caused trouble in the past.”
Johnny looked into Herrera’s dark eyes. “Are you trying ta tell me something, Señor?”
“No, I am simply letting you know the man has a bad temper; he is the type to hold a grudge. This is only a warning. As long as you are here, you are under my protection. When you choose to leave, I will see to it that he is occupied elsewhere.”
“I appreciate that. Can you tell me when and how your horse was taken?” Johnny asked as he enjoyed his drink.
“The horse was returning here after a haciendado in New Mexico paid for the stallion’s services. On the way back, there was an attack on my men, and the horse was taken. That is all I know.”
“Where in New Mexico?” Johnny asked, wanting to gather all the information he could before approaching Nolan.
“It was southwest of Silver City. Why do you ask?” Herrera was getting curious.
Johnny sighed. “Well, like I said before, the man I was doin’ the favor for has a ranch in Thatcher. Those places ain’t that far apart. Nolan coulda set it all up ta steal the horse. He probably knew the men who hired the stud’s services and got the history about the lineage from them. Like braggin’ rights.” Johnny hesitated, then met Herrera’s dark eyes.
“So now, I gotta know. Asked ya earlier if you’d consider lettin’ me confront Nolan before you go see him. Will you let me do that, cuz one way or another, he’s gonna answer ta me.”
Rafa sat forward in his chair and watched these two men discuss what would happen and knew that he would be involved whichever way it panned out.
Herrera held Johnny in a pensive stare; then, a grin curled the corners of his mouth. “Let us go together. I think I would like to see how he handles Johnny Madrid.”
Plans were made. They would leave at sunup. Don Antonio Herrera was anxious to let Johnny deal with this horse thief. As it happened on American soil, it would be handled by American Law. Herrera was alright with that. They hung horse thieves in the States.
“How long have you lived here, Senór Herrera?” Johnny asked, curious about this man.
“My family has been here for many generations. An ancestor was awarded these lands after he fought alongside Antoni de Mendosa to claim this part of the world for Spain. Later, Mendosa was appointed the first governor of New Spain, what we now call Mexico. Spain’s explorations into the Americas brought these magnificent animals here, and the haciendados have been raising these horses ever since. They are descendants of the horses brought from Spain by the Conquistadors.
“During their battles, some of the Conquistadors were killed, and their horses ran wild, eventually breeding with the mustangs that ran through this land. But, when New Spain was finally settled, there were approximately ten haciendados and over 1,500 of these horses between them. They have been carefully bred to bring out the best traits of the Andalusian lines. Though not as big as a pure Andalusian, they have proven themselves as a working horse and are intelligent, therefore, easily trained. And they are quite beautiful, don’t you agree, Johnny?”
Johnny laughed. “There’s no denyin’ that! They sure are a head turner!”
The conversation soon came to an end. Sunup would come early, and they needed to be rested.
“I will leave you now. I need to tell my family goodnight.” And with that, Herrera turned to walk beyond the courtyard.
Seeing the confusion in Johnny’s eyes, Rafa explained. “His wife and son are buried in the family grounds in a private garden by the trees you see over there,” Rafa pointed to a small grove to the west of the hacienda. “They were killed in a raid by the Rurales.”
Johnny closed his eyes as he sighed deeply and bowed his head.
Johnny was exhausted. Entering his room, he found his clothes, cleaned and folded in a neat pile at the foot of his bed. He fell onto the clean, sweet-smelling sheets and was asleep in minutes.
The ground was a blur beneath him. The trees were nothing but a smudge of green as the horse surged faster and faster along through the valley and across the river…
The pounding on the door brought him to full awareness as he pulled his Colt from under the pillow.
“Who is it?” he called out.
“Antonio Herrera, Johnny, please, may I come in? It is urgent!”
Johnny vaulted out of bed and pulled on his pants. He was at the door and swung it open to find his host with the look of fury firmly in place and his eyes blazing.
“Johnny, it is Nacho; he has left the ranchero. We leave now!” And then Herrera was gone.
The travel was hard on Murdoch, but the senior Lancer said not a word. The trip by horseback had been slower, much to Scott’s dismay, but he knew it couldn’t be helped. Knowing the patriarch never went anywhere without a bottle of laudanum when the pain reached unbearable levels helped ease the stress on Scott’s part.
“Phoenix is just ahead, Murdoch. We can stop for the night and check to see if there’s a message from Val. A night’s sleep in a bed and a hot meal will make both of us feel like new men!” Scott, ever the optimist, said, hoping to lighten the situation. They left the last town with no word from anyone, and since then, Murdoch had fallen into a grim silence.
It seemed like a small grouping of buildings in the distance, but as they rode, soon the town loomed before them, growing out of the flat desert earth. The sun was beginning to lose her battle with the dark, and in brilliant shades of pinks and oranges, she gave up her fight to settle behind the distant Big Horn Mountains.
Murdoch rode until he found the telegraph office and pulled Toby to a stop. Scott reined alongside; then, both men entered the newly constructed building. A wrinkled and wiry, bespectacled man sat behind the window and looked up as the Lancer men came through the door.
“Ev’nin’, gentlemen, what can I do for ya?” Nate Winslow asked as his neatly trimmed but large mustache bobbed over lips hidden under the brush.
“Yes, my name is Murdoch Lancer. Are there any messages for me that might have come in the last several days?”
Old Nate checked the basket containing the waiting missives. He shuffled through a short stack of papers, then pulled two from the basket and handed them over to Murdoch’s large hand. “Yes, sir, here you are.”
Murdoch opened the telegram and read as Scott leaned against his father’s arm to see what was written. It was from Val
-M
Posters called in- Word from sheriff in Silver City, horse reported stolen three months ago- stallion- Owner Don Antonio Herrera, Cananea, Mexico- No known Indian attacks in Az in last five years in that area. Waiting your reply.
-V
Murdoch began to shake, his fear for Johnny running rampant and in rage at Henry Nolan… he lied to them…
The second telegram was from Henry Nolan.
Murdoch- Have sent out patrols- Will find him-
Murdoch was thankful for Scott’s calming presence. The press of his son’s chest against his arm was a great comfort, an anchor that kept reasonable thought first and foremost in his mind… for now. He would have to wait and see how he felt when he confronted Henry face to face. Would he allow the man to talk, or would Murdoch wrap his hands around the man’s throat for putting Johnny in grave danger?
“Murdoch, why don’t you get a room for us at the hotel? I’ll get the horses bedded down; then we can get a meal and figure out what we are going to do about Nolan.” Scott needed to be doing something. He couldn’t just stand there doing nothing when Johnny was… Heaven knew where.
Murdoch jerked as if he was pulled back to reality from a faraway dream. He looked to Scott, “Yes, you do that, Scott. I’m going to send a wire to Val, then I’ll see about rooms. Meet me over at the hotel.” As Scott left, Murdoch sent a message to Val confirming they had made it to Phoenix, received his wire, and would be moving on to Thatcher in the morning.
The three men traveled swiftly across the desert. They had to cross the Rio Grande before the Rurales found them. When they discovered Nacho gone, both Herrera and Rafa knew where he was headed; they had no choice but to leave as quickly as possible.
Johnny cursed Nolan as they hurried to reach the border. Then he cursed Nacho. He knew their pursuers were not that far behind, and if any harm came to Herrera or Rafa, Johnny would personally gut the traitor from squashed balls to chin and smile while doing it. If the Rurales knew their quarry was this close, they would not hesitate to venture across the river. Johnny, Herrera, and Delgado needed to find somewhere to hide.
Rafa pulled his horse to a stop. It pranced and sidestepped, wanting to run. “The Rurales are coming! We need to take cover until they pass us, and we can either continue up or down the river. I know of places we can cross, but so does Nacho… It is up to you, Don Herrera,” Delgado said, letting his boss make the call.
Herrera turned to Johnny. “What do you say, Señor Madrid?” he asked with a smile. It had been a while since he had anything this exciting happen to him, and he relished the thrill it instilled.
Johnny could see the moonlight reflect from the perfect teeth and returned the grin. “Nacho knows about either way?” he asked Rafa, and with the nod given, he then asked: “Which way would he expect us to go?”
Rafa thought a moment. “He would lead the Rurales to the east. It is not as dangerous. ” The statement was firm.
Having no idea himself, Johnny had to trust Rafa. He had grown to like the man and respected his character; he left it to the man to make the call. He nodded, and the trio took off to the northwest.
After five miles of hard travel, Rafa led them into an arroyo, deep enough to hide the horses and shelter them from sight.
“We will stay here until it is safe to go further. The ground will not permit anyone to track us here. I will watch to make sure they pass us and keep riding east.” And with that, Rafa Delgado left in hopes of seeing the Rurales and Nacho blunder wildly in the wrong direction.
“Rafa’s a good man. How long has he been workin’ for ya?” Johnny asked as they waited.
“He has been with my family for over ten years. My father trusted him, as do I.”
Johnny laughed. “That makes three of us!”
Herrera sighed. “It is good that we left when we did. Otherwise, they would have taken you at the hacienda, I am afraid. But I am sure we can get across the river and be gone before they realize their mistake. The desert is very large, but Rafa is a very smart man.” Herrera said with a sure grin.
Fifteen minutes later, Rafa crept into the arroyo. “They are coming and, I think, will stop to check the river here. I counted twenty men; not very good odds,” Rafa said as he got his breathing under control. “I would like to give the horses a better rest, but I think we should get across the border while it is still safe. As soon as they pass and are out of sight, we go!”
Herrera nodded as they led their horses out of the shelter. They mounted up and waited in a grove of sycamores as the patrol stopped and went down the riverbank. Apparently, Nacho sounded the alarm, not wanting to cross the river here; there were no tracks. The Rurales were not going to let Madrid slip through their fingers again. There had been more than one patrol sent out to look for him, and there could be many more. They were sure they would catch the bandit tonight, and they raced on to the next crossing point.
The three men quickly closed the distance to the river, riding over the tracks left by the Rurales. The water was fast through this area and deep, but Rafa was sure they could cross after the patrol went on their way. Nacho was predictable in his actions. The man was lazy, and he could not swim. He would instead lead the Rurales far to the east than to cross here.
The men agreed, they had to make it to the other side of the river now or spend precious hours waiting for another chance, but once out in the water, they would be sitting ducks. Not only was this the deepest part of the river Johnny had ever seen, but it was also the widest.
They nudged the horses forward and into the water with very little noise and held the reins tight. Johnny had taken off his rig and looped it around his neck, then under his left arm. The Colt hung down in front of his chest, not the perfect way he wanted to draw, but easily accessible, nonetheless. It seemed an hour later, but probably only twenty minutes when the horses made it to the other side and scrambled onto dry land. They did not stop but urged the horses on… on to Thatcher and an unsuspecting Henry Nolan.
“There’s only about a hundred miles ta go, as the crow flies, but there’s lots of mountains in between. We might get there in two or three days, with any luck,” Johnny said as they made camp that night. They had pushed on longer than Johnny thought wise, but the further away from the border and the Rurales, the better. When they settled around the fire for the night, Johnny was still uneasy, and he knew sleep would not come tonight.
They stoked a fire to fix a meal and kept the flames low through the dark hours. You could never tell where the Rurales would sneak off to, and Johnny knew a river boundary would not stop them. It was best to stay alert tonight.
Johnny leaned back into his upturned saddle as he drank the hot coffee and thought about Henry Nolan. At the moment, there was nothing he would like better than to beat the hell out of the man, friend of Murdoch’s or not. Friends don’t lie to ya, and Johnny didn’t think that Murdoch would mind too much, especially once he found out what Nolan had done.
“I cannot figure out what is on your mind that is making you smile and frown all the same time!” Herrera said as he watched the young man.
“Well, Señor Herrera…”
“I think we are well enough acquainted, Johnny, por favor, my name is Antonio,” Herrera smiled warmly.
Johnny returned the gesture and shrugged. “Was just thinkin’ about Nolan. He an’ my father were good friends. He was around when Murdoch needed a friend the most an’ helped him through some bad times. He speaks highly of the man. Just tryin’ ta make some sense of it all.”
“You can make yourself loco trying to reason why a man does what he does, especially if that man is under pressure. If a man isn’t thinking with a sound mind, there may be no sense about it.”
“Yeah, guess he’s having a time with his kid. Told me the boy was in military school, but I got the impression there was more to it than that. Won’t know till we have that talk with him.” Johnny finished his coffee and set the cup aside. “Guess I’ll try an’ get some sleep. Wanna be up at dawn an’ get as many miles behind us as we can tomorrow. ‘Night… Antonio, Rafa.”
“Buenas noches, Johnny.”
They were making good time cutting through the mountains, and by tomorrow night, Johnny thought they would be at Nolan’s Cactus Ridge. He wondered if Nolan was worried. Johnny had the horse Nolan stole and had not made contact with him as they planned, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He’s gotta be ready ta bust with the not knowin’ what’s goin’ on. Well, that’s just too bad…
The miles fell away, and the hours passed. Soon the day faded into night, and with it came the relief of knowing they had lost the Rurales.
Antonio Herrera was a bit of a surprise. The man was tough. He endured the vigorous travel and lack of luxuries better than Johnny would have guessed. And he thought it would be interesting to see how Antonio would handle Henry Nolan.
They were still making good time, and the horses were sound and strong. Tonight they would confront a horse thief.
Rafa handed Johnny the spyglass. Hunkered down on the ridge overlooking the ranch, they watched the house in the late afternoon. Johnny wanted to have the upper hand when they met face to face. Maybe slip into the house when the bastard wasn’t looking. That always got under the adversary’s skin when their home ground was breached. The smile grew across Johnny’s mouth.
They’d been watching the house for three hours now. Johnny would wait until the man retired for the night, then slip into the house for a surprise ‘visit’. Just as he was about to turn away, he stopped. Two strangers rode to the front of the house and dismounted. Strangers they were, but looking slightly familiar. Suddenly Johnny laughed out loud.
“Well, would ya look at that!” Johnny laughed again.
“Qué, Johnny?” Both Herrera and Rafa sat up, straining to see the house.
“We got reinforcements! That’s Murdoch an’ Scott that rode in! Damn, when the Lancers have a party, it’s a party! Murdoch don’t look too happy! Oooowwweeee! Ol’ Nolan’s gonna have his hands full, I can tell ya that!”
Herrera and Delgado watched as confusion filled their brains. Johnny’s reaction at the unexpected presence of his father and brother more than puzzled them.
“Let us go!” Rafa made to hurry to the horses.
“Uh uh, I ain’t goin’ down there yet! Gonna let Murdoch burn off some of that mad! Listen, I think we should go visit after they get settled. That way, Nolan’ll get it twice once we get done with him. If Nolan has it out with Murdoch an’ Scott, he’s not gonna be ready ta deal with us an’ a second confrontation so soon after the first is gonna make him listen ta reason…”
Herrera looked stunned. “Are… are you afraid of your father?”
Johnny laughed at this. “Yeah, I kinda am… Just wait till ya meet him!” Johnny continued looking through the spyglass.
The pounding on the door blasted through the quiet, sounding much like a series of explosions. Henry Nolan started as he sat at his desk, mulling over the situation. Grateful for the disturbance, he heaved himself from his chair as another round of impatient blows threatened to break the door from its hinges. Becoming perturbed with the assault leveled on his property, he grabbed the handle and threw it open, ready to tear into whoever was so rude with their announcement.
Henry Nolan felt his blood drain to his feet. “Murdoch! How… why…”
Murdoch pushed his way into the house without a greeting. “Let’s dispense with the small talk, Henry. Where’s Johnny?” Murdoch growled.
Scott stood, taken aback but proud of Murdoch. Never had he seen his father in the state that gripped him now. A mother bear had nothing over on Murdoch Lancer as he confronted the man who had been considered, up until now, a good friend.
“Murdoch, I…” Henry knew he would not have a second chance to explain; he had to make it right the first time. Murdoch will understand! He knows what it’s like with a troubled son… “Murdoch, Scott, please come in. I guess we need to talk.” Henry stepped away from the door, his mind in a mad scramble wondering just how much Murdoch knew.
Scott closed the door behind them, watching the two men, one attacking, the other desperately trying to make nice.
Although Murdoch was ready to choke the man that instant, he wondered if, given enough rope, Henry would hang himself.
“Would you like a drink?” Henry asked.
“No, I don’t want a drink! I want to know where my son is! I want to know what you have done!”
Henry sighed and broke eye contact with the man who once needed the lifeline he provided. Would that make any difference now? Henry could only hope Murdoch would not forget what he had done for him years ago. He would soon find out.
“Murdoch, I told you in the telegram that Johnny failed to contact me like we planned. He was supposed to send a wire letting me know where he was, and I never received word…” The words sounded alright to Henry’s ears, but his eyes told Murdoch something else.
Scott watched his father as Murdoch took a deep breath and struggled with his emotions. “Mr. Nolan, you’ve told us what you and Johnny planned to do, but what aren’t you telling us?” Scott’s smooth voice was deceptive in his questioning.
The mantle clock ticked loudly as Murdoch and Scott leveled icy stares at Nolan.
He was going to have to come clean. Nolan scrubbed his face with a shaking hand and went to the sideboard to pour himself a glass of whiskey. After taking several swallows that did nothing to steady his nerves, Henry turned and began his story.
“It’s my son, Murdoch. Michael never got over the death of his mother. After Grace died, Michael became… difficult. He began drinking, and it quickly got out of hand. Then he started gambling. I couldn’t watch him every second of every day; his debts were significant, to the point that I spent most of my money paying them off. I tried to control him, but there wasn’t anything I could do short of locking him in his room. Then, one night, in a drunken stupor, he committed a horrible crime. Murdoch, I didn’t know what to do!”
Murdoch said nothing, the man had a troubled son, but that was no reason to jeopardize Johnny.
“Michael attacked a young girl. She… rejected his advances, and he attacked her. The rape was bad enough, but he tried to strangle her. It was as if he was possessed.” Henry’s voice trembled in his grief, but he went on. “He was pulled off the girl, and she lived, but she wasn’t right. The doctor said it was due to a lack of oxygen to the brain. Murdoch, I had to have money to get Michael out of jail! They’re going to put him away for good!” Henry stood, dejected and lost.
Murdoch, where not heartless, felt a certain amount of pity for Henry but could not forgive what he might have done to Johnny. “Out of jail? Henry, that boy needs help. He almost murdered that girl and not to mention maimed her for life!” Murdoch was sickened. “Henry, you can’t make up for Grace’s death, and Michael needs to deal with it, but that gave you no right to put Johnny’s life in danger!”
“Murdoch, you have to understand! He’s my son, and I have to get him out of there! It will kill him! He’s never had to…”
“Never had to what, Henry? Take responsibility for his actions?” Murdoch’s temper was flaring; his eyes were cold and accusing.
Scott watched, not yet wanting to intervene, but was ready should the time arise.
“Murdoch, you have to understand…”
“Understand? Henry, I understand that you sent Johnny on a mission that could get him killed if he’s not dead already! Just how do I understand that?” Murdoch was losing what control he had.
“Johnny can take care of himself! He’s Johnny Madrid, for God’s sake!” Henry lashed out.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? If the Rurales hear that he’s this close to Mexico, they will send their army to capture him and take him back only to stand him in front of a firing squad!”
“But he’s Madrid! What about the things he’s done?”
Before Henry could say any more, the composure Murdoch had fled, and in less than a heartbeat, Murdoch grabbed Henry’s shirt and slammed him into the wall as a satisfying ‘woof’ of air was squeezed from his lungs.
“You know nothing about Johnny or his past! Do nottry and compare him to your son, and I resent that blatant attack in assuming Johnny’s behavior was reckless, having no control over his actions!” Murdoch felt the rage boiling until the firm but gentle pressure of Scott’s hand on his arm brought him to his wits.
“Don’t you ever talk about my son like that! EVER! Do you understand?” Murdoch let go of the wrinkled shirt, but only after he slammed the man into the wall again, just for good measure. “Now, you can tell me where you got that horse. You see, Henry, we know all about the stolen horse.”
The hour was late when Henry finished with the sordid details regarding Michael and the theft of the horse. Neither Murdoch nor Scott said a word as Henry was forced to bare his soul.
“Murdoch, can you… forgive me? I never meant for anything bad to happen; I just wanted to keep my boy from going to a place like that. You see, it’s more than jail. He could be found unstable, and if that is the case, he will spend the rest of his life in a mental institution… I couldn’t bear that.” Henry stopped to gather his thoughts. “The girl’s family is wealthy. They have pushed for the maximum sentence. I had to get money.” Henry’s words faded to nothing, and he sat with closed eyes.
Murdoch and Scott exchanged glances, but neither said a word. What could Murdoch say? If Johnny were found alive and safe, perhaps he would have words for Henry, but until then, he couldn’t say anything. The betrayal was too raw, and until he knew of Johnny’s whereabouts, if he was well and safe, forgiveness was not there to give.
“Come on, Scott, let’s go into town and get a room,” Murdoch said as he stood going to the door.
“Murdoch! Please, I would like very much for you and Scott to stay here. It’s a long ride to town, and I know you are both exhausted. Please, stay,” Henry asked with pleading eyes.
Murdoch turned to face the man he thought was a friend. “No, Henry, we will not stay here.” Then Murdoch and Scott left the house, leaving Henry Nolan alone, lost, and finding himself in more trouble than before.
Scott carefully observed his father as they rode. The man was ready to drop with fatigue, and Scott could only imagine what Murdoch was feeling. The pain in his father’s back was intense before they had gotten to Nolan’s ranch, and the confrontation between them only complicated the issue. Scott knew Murdoch was past ready to call it a night; he was just too stubborn to give in.
“Sir, maybe we should have stayed. You look like you’re ready to fall out of the saddle.”
“Scott, we have to find out what happened. We need to know if Johnny’s…”
“If Johnny’s what…?”
Both Murdoch and Scott reined their horses to a halt, and they danced nervously in the road when the shadow detached itself from the cover of trees.
“Johnny!” Murdoch shouted as he threw himself out of the saddle to wrap his arms around the young man he thought possibly lost to them. He pulled Johnny to his chest and hugged him tightly, and the gesture was reciprocated. With aching back forgotten, Murdoch let the sweet emotion wash over him, warming him, comforting him.
“Son! What happened? Are you alright? Let me look at you!” Murdoch held Johnny at arm’s length only to pull him close once again.
Johnny could feel the tension roll off his father in tangible waves. “Hey, ol’ man, I’m fine!” Johnny swore he heard a hitch in Murdoch’s throat. Gotta say somethin’ more’n that, Johnny-Boy, the ol’ man’s pretty upset… “Hey Murdoch, were ya worried about me?” Johnny asked with a laugh.
“Worried like I’ve never been in my life! We just came from Henry Nolan’s, he has no idea what happened.”
“Oh, he has an idea, just not sure, is all!”
Scott greeted his brother with a handshake and pulled him into an embrace, much like Murdoch had done. “Johnny, you have no idea what you put us through!”
Johnny heard the relief in his brother’s voice. “Well, I got an idea, an’ I’m sorry for that, but ya better talk ta Nolan about it. Hey, I got some friends I want ya ta meet! Antonio, Rafa, come on out!”
Murdoch and Scott straightened, hands going to their holsters as two men came out of the trees.
“Murdoch, Scott, I want ya ta meet Antonio Herrera and his segundo, Rafa Delagado. They helped me get away from the Rurales,” Johnny said as casually as if it had been a typical, run-of-the-mill day.
“Rurales?” Murdoch felt sick.
“It’s alright, Murdoch, we sent ‘em on a wild goose chase. They’re still chasin’ their tails at the border,” Johnny said with another laugh.
“Señor Lancer, it is an honor to meet you! I am Antonio Herrera,” Herrera said as he shook Murdoch’s hand.
“The honor is mine, Señor Herrera! Believe me. Señor Delgado, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, as well. I want to thank both of you for helping my son! We’ve been sick with worry when Johnny went missing,” Murdoch said, much relieved to meet the men that were responsible for Johnny’s ‘deliverance’.
“I can assure you that if we could have helped him one hundred times over, it wouldn’t be enough to repay him for what he has done for the people of our country. Johnny will always be welcome at my rancho, and you as well!” Herrera declared as he looked from Murdoch to Scott.
They laughed as Johnny, suddenly embarrassed, hung his head.
“C’mon, let’s get outta this road before someone sees us,” Johnny urged. “Think there’s a place we can spend the night just beyond those trees. Hey, ol’ man, how’s your back holdin’ up?”
Murdoch reached out and placed his arm around Johnny’s shoulders. “It’s just fine, Johnny, it’s just fine!”
Johnny told of his trip riding the horse and his subsequent capture. “Oh, Murdoch, that horse was stolen from Antonio. He’s got proof the horse is his; I saw it.”
Murdoch snorted. “Nolan first saw the horse as it was transported from Señor Herrera’s client’s ranch, then had a couple of his hands steal it thinking he could use the horse for stud, and with the money he charged, he’d be able to help his son.” The big man shook his head.
Now it was beginning to make sense, Johnny thought. “Yeah, he told me his boy was in Military School, but it seemed there was somethin’ he wasn’t tellin’ me,” Johnny said as he contemplated what Murdoch had relayed.
Scott huffed. “Well, I can tell you that Nolan’s son is not in Military School! He drank to excess, ran up substantial gambling debts, assaulted a girl, then tried to strangle her. She survived but suffered permanent mental damage due to the strangulation. If Nolan can’t get money for professional help, the boy stands a good chance of either prison or condemned to a mental institution.”
Johnny hung his head. He didn’t want the boy to go through any of that; the kid needed to start behaving like a man. But when he thought of the attack on an innocent girl, Johnny wanted to shoot the kid himself.
“Well, let’s turn in. We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow, boys,” Murdoch said as he stretched out with a groan and pulled his blanket over him.
“You an’ Scott get some sleep, Murdoch. Me an’ Antonio an’ Rafa are gonna go visitin’ tanight. Seems like Henry Nolan owes Señor Herrera an apology.”
Murdoch wanted to object. He didn’t want Johnny going back to Henry Nolan’s, but he knew that Señor Herrera had a score to settle, and it was none of his business. At this moment, he could wash his hands of Henry Nolan with no second thoughts about it. He also knew that Johnny needed to make Henry stand before him and face him like a man. Johnny was not out for revenge, but Murdoch would bet copious amounts of money that his son would get his own satisfaction.
The father in him wanted nothing more than to get his boys home to Lancer, where it was safe, where they wouldn’t have to worry about the Rurales or Harlan Garrett, and the chance for other gunfighters to call out Johnny was slowly diminishing. But Murdoch had no illusions that he could forever shield his family from all evil. It was part of fatherhood. There would always be something to worry about, always.
He lay in his bedroll and listened to the sounds of Johnny, Herrera, and Delgado as they mounted up and rode out of the camp. He could only pray they would return, and they would soon be on their way home. All he could do was hope that this Hunter’s Moon did not turn to a Blood Moon this night.
“Johnny, your father, and brother are men of honor. They have come a long way to find you and want only to take you home. Some men would have killed Señor Nolan and walked away. It speaks much of the men they are,” Antonio spoke as they rode.
Johnny smiled. “Yeah, they are that, men of honor. I gotta tell ya, if I had known about them back when I was sellin’ my gun, I woulda gave it up an’ hightailed it home faster’n it takes ta pull a trigger. Didn’t know I had a brother till after I got there. Kind of a surprise for both of us. But, it’s a mix of relief an’ dread at the same time. Never know when somethin’s gonna happen but good ta know Madrid will be there if I need him. Maybe one day, he can fade outta sight. He’ll always be there, but I’m hopin’ folks start ta forget about him.”
Herrera heard the anxiety in Johnny’s voice. He could only imagine what that previous life had taken from this young man’s soul. The tales told about the Hero of Mexico did not reveal what it had cost the man. Antonio Herrera vowed when he returned home, he would light a candle and say a prayer for Johnny Madrid Lancer.
They watched as the lamp was extinguished, leaving the house in darkness. The light of the moon cast a silvery glow across rooftops and ground, creating shadows as if in full light of day. There was no sign of life other than a horse in the corral on the far side of the barn. And Johnny remembered that Nolan had no dog to announce their social call.
“What do you plan to do, Johnny?” Herrera whispered through a smile as they went from shadow to shadow, edging closer to their confrontation.
Johnny heard something akin to excitement in the man’s tone and couldn’t help but wonder if Antonio’s regimented life ever allowed him to sow any wild oats. Although the man was a good ten years Johnny’s senior, there was something to be said for cutting loose on occasion, no matter what age.
“Well, seems ta me we can make ourselves ta home for a while, you know, greet him when he wakes up. Hey, maybe he’ll invite us ta stay for breakfast!” Johnny’s remark dripped with sarcasm.
Antonio looked at the face in the moonlight. Johnny was grinning as he spoke, outlining what, to Herrera, sounded much like breaking into a man’s home and helping yourself to whatever was there. The audacity of Johnny Madrid shocked him and, at the same time, humored him immensely.
“Ya gonna be alright with this, Antonio? I mean, ya probably never did this kind of thing before, huh?” Johnny asked, knowing the man grew up in a privileged family, Herrera never got to ‘cut loose’.
“Tell ya what, when this is over, how about the three of us talk over a bottle of tequila an’ I’ll tell ya about the life and rowdy times of Johnny Madrid?”
Herrera glanced at his segundo, and both men smiled, white teeth bright against the dark skin.
“I am going to hold you to that!” Herrera chuckled and found himself looking forward to the event.
Antonio Herrera could not believe what he was doing as he followed Johnny through the back door of Henry Nolan’s house.
He was sweating. And nervous. He had slept for less than an hour before the dreams woke him and settled like a dead weight on his chest. How would he keep his son out of prison? The legal fees for Michael had depleted his savings, not to mention covering the boy’s gambling debts, but after the attack on that girl, Henry knew there was every likelihood of him losing the ranch. Was it so wrong that he took the horse to save his son?
Henry threw the blankets aside and pulled on his clothes. There would be no more sleep for him this night. He paced his room, then filled the washbasin with water and splashed it over his face. He was making himself crazy thinking about things he had no answers for. The questions came, plaguing his mind, as they thundered in his skull and kicked his brain to mush. What am I going to do? What can I do?
He opened his door to stumble down the stairs feeling trapped in his room. The walls were closing in around him, and he needed to clear his thoughts. I can’t just sell the ranch. Where would I go? There wouldn’t be any place to bring Michael when I get him out… Grace is buried here; I can’t leave. Maybe I can talk Murdoch into… no, I’ve ruined any chance with Murdoch…
Behind him, a match flared in a tiny explosion of light. Henry Nolan gasped as he whirled around to see a man sitting at his desk, feet propped on the top, and a drink in his hand.
“Helped myself to a drink, Mr. Nolan, didn’t think you’d mind,” Johnny said quietly as Nolan stared wide-eyed. “What’s the matter? Ya look like ya seen a ghost,” his voice calm, but there was ice in the words.
Henry’s heart felt as if it would hammer itself right out from between his ribs, and his breath caught in his dry throat. He tried to speak, but the words failed to come.
Johnny calmly lit the lamp on the desk and tipped his hat back with a finger. He stared at Nolan long enough to make him fidget, then took a drink and began to speak as the whiskey spread through him, warming his belly, but the warmth stopped there. Henry Nolan did not deserve any kindness from him. Johnny couldn’t speak for his father, though he had an idea of how Murdoch felt. For Johnny, trust was something that spoke volumes about a man. A man’s word and honor said everything there was to say about him, and without it, a man was nothing. Johnny could almost pity him… almost.
“Johnny! Why didn’t you send me a wire? I waited…” Nolan stammered.
“Oh, I was a little busy. Seems like folks in Mexico don’t take too kindly ta their horses gettin’ stole, Mr. Nolan. Ya know anything about that?” Johnny waited, but there was no admission from the man. However, a look of panic flashed over the shocked face. “But then, ya know, tryin’ ta stay a step ahead of them Rurales took some doin’, too, so there wasn’t much time ta stay in touch.” Johnny hesitated before going on. “Seems ta me that ya set me up pretty good. Now the question is, what am I gonna do about it.”
Johnny paused to take another drink and gave Nolan time to digest just how big of a mistake he had made. He put the glass down on the desk and stood up and sighed as he wandered around the room as his fingers tapped out a beat on the butt of his Colt, and that made Henry a very nervous man.
“I could just turn ya over ta the law an’ let ’em hang ya.” Johnny halted the narrative for a minute, then continued. “Seems ta me that ya could have leveled with us. Ya came ta Lancer ta ask Murdoch for help, didn’t ya?”
Henry Nolan didn’t answer. He was caught and would now have to pay for the wrong he’d done. His chance to help his son was gone. Deep in his heart, he always knew he couldn’t take responsibility for Michael’s crimes. But didn’t know any other way to help him. He had let his son down, he let a good friend down, and he had almost gotten Johnny killed. Henry made his way to a chair and slumped into it.
“What I wanna know is, why didn’t you ask for Murdoch’s help? You coulda had it! You know what kind of a man Murdoch is! Why didn’t you ask? It was that simple, Nolan. But ya lied to him, lied ta all of us an’ ya come real close ta sendin’ me back to a Mexican prison an’ that makes me pretty damn mad.” Johnny came to stand in front of Nolan, and where the words were deceptively soft, the glare from Johnny’s eyes was hard and cold.
“Ya know, Nolan, a coupla years ago, chances were I’d have just shot ya for doin’ somethin’ like this, but time changes a man. So, I’ll tell ya what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna turn ya over to the man whose horse ya stole an’ let him decide what ta do. Antonio!”
Henry looked up, alarmed at the men in his house. How had they gotten in? Why…?
A tall man of Spanish descent walked out from the shadows, and Johnny swore Nolan seemed to shrink as Herrera came forward with Rafa right behind him.
“Señor Nolan, I cannot say that it is an honor to make your acquaintance, and I think you do a huge disservice to the Lancers. I can only hope you think your actions were justified. I can assure you that you will pay for your… indiscretion.” Antonio Herrera sat behind Nolan’s desk, assuming the position of authority, his dark eyes piercing and dangerous as he thought over his options.
“Ya want me ta stay, Antonio?” Johnny asked. He had a suspicion that Herrera had a plan, and if that were the case, Rafa would be there to help see it through. He waited as Antonio thought a moment.
Don Antonio Herrera tented his fingers then smiled at Johnny. “No, Johnny, you have done much for me, gracias! Rafa and I will be fine. Vaya con Dios, mi amigo!” Antonio stood and took Johnny’s hand in a firm grip.
“Vaya con Dios, amigo!” Johnny whispered, touched by the emotion he saw in Herrera’s eyes. Then turning to Rafa, he spoke. “Rafa, thank you for helpin’ me. I appreciate everything, amigo!” Johnny went to the door but hesitated and faced his friends. “Ya ever get up ta California, stop an’ see us, the door will always be open to you both.”
It came so softly, Johnny wasn’t sure he heard it.
“Johnny, I’m sorry for what I did,” Henry Nolan whispered.
Johnny turned to the broken rancher. “Sorry’s just a word, Mr. Nolan. I’ve had worse done to me, but the thing I’m havin’ trouble with is what ya did ta Murdoch. That sure as hell ain’t the way I want my friends ta treat me.” Then Johnny turned and quietly walked out the door.
The camp was quiet. Both Murdoch and Scott slept peacefully as Johnny watched them. In the fire’s low light, he chuckled at the silvery hair of his father spiked in wild disarray as if a hard wind had wrestled it from the usual neat combing. The snores that accompanied that sight made Johnny fight all the harder to keep quiet. There was no way on God’s green earth that he would get any sleep now, so he started a pot of coffee and waited for his family to wake.
Dawn broke as Scott stirred, followed shortly by the old man. “’Bout time the two of you rolled out! Got a long way ta go taday. Breakfast is almost ready,” Johnny announced.
They ate a leisurely meal, and each sat with his own thoughts before Murdoch asked the question that had been on his mind ever since Johnny, Herrera, and Delgado rode out of camp. “What happened last night, Johnny?” His question tentative, but he knew the issue would be handled to the best possible outcome.
“I let Herrera take care of it. It was his horse, he’ll deal with it. Don’t worry, Murdoch, Herrera’s an honest man. More so than Nolan turned out ta be.” The affirmation in Johnny’s voice was the only comfort Murdoch would get.
“Well, son, he used to be a good man. I think deep down, he still is,” Murdoch spoke with sadness.
Scott heard the melancholy in their voices and knew that feeling of disappointment and the anxiety it generated, so, in an effort to quell those thoughts, he took the conversation in another direction.
“Johnny, those horses you bought are beauties! That stallion, though, proved to be a handful! Cipriano had quite a time getting him home! He caused problems all the way!” Scott laughed, thankful he’d been spared the hassle.
Johnny smirked, “That’s why I named him what I did, Boston.”
“Alright, what did you name him?”
“Travieso.”
Scott frowned. His Spanish was coming along, but he was not familiar with the word. “Travieso, what does that mean?” he asked with a raised brow while Murdoch chuckled.
Johnny grinned at his father. “It means troublemaker, misbehavin’.”
“Oh, in other words, you named him after yourself!” Scott laughed out loud.
“An’ proud of it, Boston, proud of it!” Johnny grinned at his brother.
The grin on Johnny’s face and the sound of Scott’s laughter made the pain from Murdoch’s aching back fade away, with help from a swig of laudanum. And the lightheartedness would serve to dispel the emptiness he felt over Henry Nolan’s deception. But, now, it was going to be a fine day! Murdoch thought to himself. He and his sons were going home.
The trip home was slow, and both Scott and Johnny, though anxious to be back at Lancer, took their father’s health into consideration. Murdoch knew the reason for the sedate travel, and where he, too, wanted nothing more than to be home, he relished the time with his boys on the trail. The relief of finding Johnny safe and unscathed filled him with happiness he had rarely felt before, and he hoped all their time together from this point forward would continue to yield the familial harmony and cohesiveness they had just found that was denied for so many years.
Seven days later, the trio of Lancer men topped the ridge to gaze below at the welcome scene. It was the same place they left, how many days ago? But it had never looked so welcoming! Horses and cattle grazed on sweet grass and foals, and calves romped and chased, creating havoc that they so enjoyed.
“Looks pretty good, doesn’t it, boys?” Murdoch asked proudly.
“Like a little bit of heaven,” Scott replied.
“Home,” Johnny whispered.
“Johnny, that stallion ya bought is ‘bout ta make me crazy! He’s got the worst manners of ever’ horse I ever did see!” Jelly groused. “Why he just ‘bout kicked down that stall, been workin’ at that for the last month. Before ya know it, he’s gonna be runnin’ loose an’ I ain’t gonna go lookin’ for him! Figure I’ll just let the mangy old nag run wild! He ‘bout bit off a few of my fingers, too!”
“Jelly, I keep tellin’ ya , ya just don’t know how ta sweet talk him. He’s like a puppy,” Johnny laughed. “I’ll let ya in a few secrets; he really likes apples. It’ll help if ya give him one once in a while,” Johnny said with a grin.
“Johnny, don’t tell me that yer spoilin’ this horse like ya do Barranca? No wonder he’s bitin’ all the time!” Jelly stomped away only to return a minute later with an apple. Where he didn’t agree with the pampering Johnny seemed wont to lavish on the animals, Jelly was partial to his fingers.
Johnny laughed as the bewhiskered old man surrendered the treat and watched in great amusement as Travieso salivated over Jelly’s hand, taking the apple. “C’mon, Jelly, T’resa’s got lunch ready.”
“I’ll have everything ready in a minute, Johnny. Where’s Jelly? I thought I saw the two of you together just a bit ago?” Teresa asked as Johnny strode into the kitchen.
“He’ll be here, still washin’ up,” Johnny grinned with his thoughts of Jelly washing the slimy mess off his hands.
Teresa thought that maybe she didn’t want to know what was behind that grin.
The knock on the front door interrupted the moment, and Johnny quickly walked through the hacienda to answer the call. Probably Val wantin’ ta have lunch. I swear that man has a clock in his belly. He just knows when we’re gonna eat…
“Hey, V…” was as far as Johnny got before surprise robbed the words from his throat. “Antonio! Rafa! What’re you two doin’ here?” Johnny exclaimed, pleased to see the two men he now considered his friends. “C’mon in! We’re just sittin’ down ta lunch, come an’ join us!” Johnny opened the door and stood to the side to allow Antonio and Rafa to enter.
“Sure is good ta see ya! What brings ya all the way up here? Hey, Scott, Murdoch!”
“Johnny, it is good to see you! You look well! I am glad you made it home after your ordeal!” Herrera’s rich voice resounded in the front hall as he vigorously shook Johnny’s hand. Rafa, too, extended his, and Johnny clasped it in his firm grip.
“Johnny, what’s all the…” Murdoch answered Johnny’s call. A sincere smile grew across the old man’s face when he recognized the visitors standing in the great room. “What an honor to see you two again! Please come in and join us for lunch!”
Scott, hearing the commotion, came to investigate as he clutched a towel still in the process of drying his hands. “Welcome to Lancer, gentlemen!” he beamed in surprise.
They could hear Jelly grumbling in the kitchen, “What in tarnation’s going’ on? They plan a party an’ forgot ta invite me?” As Jelly and Teresa came around the corner, Murdoch put an arm around his ward’s shoulders to introduce her to their guests.
“Gentlemen, I would like you to meet my ward, Teresa. Darling, these are the men that helped Johnny escape the Rurales. This is Don Antonio Herrera and his segundo, Rafael Delgado!”
Teresa stepped forward and extended her hand. “I would like to thank you both for your help! I am touched by your kindness, both of you! Please come in and share our table!”
“Señorita Teresa, it is a pleasure to meet you! Your beauty blinds these weary eyes!” Antonio breathed against her hand as he raised it to his mouth and lightly brushed the back of it with a kiss. “And it was our pleasure to help Johnny. He means a great deal to the people of Mexico!”
Teresa blushed at the compliment, then “Yes, I know, and he means a great deal to us, too! But we know that sometimes he needs help to keep out of trouble!” She added sweetly, favoring Johnny with a sarcastic, sisterly smile. Everyone laughed at Johnny’s expense as he grinned and scuffed the floor with the toe of his boot.
“Come, let us eat!” Murdoch declared as they moved to settle around the kitchen table.
“We take our noon meal here in the kitchen, Señor Herrera, but dinner is a bit more formal,” Murdoch announced.
“There is no need to concern yourself about trivial details; a meal shared with friends is good no matter where it is taken, and, por favor, my name is Antonio!”
They shared the lunch as dear friends, with much laughter and good conversation.
A smile grew across Johnny’s face as he turned his attention to Antonio. “Whatever happened with ol’ Nacho? He ever come back?”
Both Antonio and Rafa met Johnny’s questioning stare. Antonio shrugged before answering. “Sí, he returned. With the Rurales. But, it was a futile attempt on Nacho’s part. You see, no one on my rancho had seen Johnny Madrid. Nacho was considered a menace for wasting their valuable time, and they took him away.”
Johnny sat in silence. He knew that Nacho was sitting in a Mexican prison. The Rurales did not take kindly to those they considered traitors. And even though Nacho had put Johnny’s life in danger, he could feel a certain sympathy regarding the man. He knew first hand what happened behind those locked doors, and no one deserved that treatment.
The rest of the meal was taken with light conversation, but there was one last thread to the story that Johnny needed to have clarified, and he waited until the meal was over.
When they finished the repast, Johnny apprehensively asked, “Antonio, what happened with Nolan?”
Herrera took a breath, then smiled. “After you left that night,” Antonio began as he met Johnny’s eyes, “I listened to his story. Then I did some investigating on my own. I could not take his word for anything; after all, the man stole my horse.”
Murdoch felt his heart sink in his chest. Henry Nolan had been a good friend, and even now, he felt empathy for the man. His friend made a mistake, and everyone is entitled to a mistake now and then; however, this one had almost cost Johnny his life.
“He told me the truth, and in good conscience, I could not fault him for wanting to help his son, only for the way he went about it. So, I did the only thing I could.”
Murdoch felt his belly begin to roll, and he found himself holding his breath. Would the next time he saw Henry again be with steel bars between them or see the headstone after the hanging?
“I offered him a deal. I have wanted for a long time to expand my business into Arizona and New Mexico, and I asked Henry if he would be interested in handling that end of it, on a trial basis, of course. He has a sizable ranch, good grazing, and water. It would serve the purpose, but I reserve the right to dissolve the partnership if I feel, for whatever reason, it is not working to my satisfaction. But this way, his son will receive the help he needs, and if rehabilitated, maybe one day, he can be a partner, a partner that his father will be proud of.” Herrera settled his eyes on Johnny, who sat silent but noticed the warm smile that crossed the young man’s features.
Murdoch was stunned. He waited for Herrera to say that he pressed charges and would be taking Nolan to court and then to hang, or, at the very least, prison. He cleared his throat of the lump that suddenly began to close off his breath.
“Antonio, I… I’m touched by your compassion. Henry had done so much for me in the past, and this… lapse in judgment that almost cost Johnny his life had me ready to try and forget about him. I can’t tell you what this means to me. Thank you.”
Johnny raised his eyes to Rafa as he remembered what the Segundo said regarding the Don and could only agree that Antonio Herrera was, indeed, an honorable and reasonable man. More than reasonable. He had given Nolan a chance to regain his dignity. Not many men would do that, considering the man had stolen a prize stallion.
“That was an excellent meal, Señorita Teresa! Muy bueno!” Herrera exclaimed, then turned to Johnny. “Now, mi amigo, I have something to show you. It is out front, por favor.”
Johnny was puzzled. “Ya got somethin’ ta show me outside, huh?” They all stood and followed Herrera to the hitchrail in the front of the Lancer hacienda.
“Johnny, I never had the chance to properly thank you for returning Corazon Valiente. I want you to accept this mare as a token of my appreciation. Her line can be traced back over three hundred years to the Conquistadors’ mounts, the same that produced Corazon Valiente. My ancestors kept meticulous records! She was bred to the stallion five months ago. I want you to have her. Here are her papers.” Herrera reached into the ornately tooled saddlebags and presented Johnny with official documentation.
Johnny was speechless. He watched the mare as she stood, seeming to understand the conversation. Large expressive, bright eyes seemed to study him in return. She was flawless, and she was exquisite! “I can’t take this horse, Antonio!” Johnny argued, and with that said, the mare bobbed her head up and down, making them laugh, all except for Johnny.
“Johnny, I am honored to present her to you, please…” Antonio gently replied as he handed the lead rope to him. “Por favor.”
“I don’t know what ta say, Antonio. I really didn’t do anything. Your men caught me. Not like I turned myself in,” Johnny did his best to justify his position. “And I did try ta get away… and ya wanna reward me for that?” He could not wrap his brain around the idea.
“Sí, Johnny, I do, and I want you to know that it makes me very happy to call you friend. Now, I insist you take the mare!”
Johnny turned his eyes to Antonio and nodded briefly, unable to put to words what he felt in his heart. “Gracias, Antonio,” was all he could say.
“Bueno! Now show me your horses! I am anxious to see your stock!” He threw his arm around Johnny’s shoulders, and the two men walked in the direction of the pasture with the pregnant mare in tow.
Murdoch and Scott stared after them, each in a state of shock. Scott stood desperately trying to gather his thoughts. Had Antonio really said the mare could be traced back to the horses ridden by the Conquistadors? Murdoch shook his head. Rafa watched as the Lancer men gathered themselves, stunned at what Herrera had done for Johnny and Henry Nolan.
“I informed Johnny on the trail that Señor Herrera was an honorable man. You see, once he found out about Señor Nolan’s son, he wanted to do something to help. He wanted to help that son, as he can never again help his own. His niño lies in a grave alongside his mother on the rancho. Señor Herrera knows what it is to lose a son.” Rafa’s explanation answered any lingering questions.
“Come, Rafa, I have some ten-year-old Scotch that I would like to introduce to you!” Murdoch, Scott, Rafa, and Jelly returned to the cool interior of the hacienda as Jelly’s mutterings reached their ears. “I bet that boy’s already spoilin’ her with an apple…”
The sun reflected off the shiny black coat in ripples across her strong body as the colt frolicked around her. He’d found his legs, and once he could stand, he was constantly moving. Belleza watched him, proud of her new son.
Johnny and Scott leaned on the top rail of the fence that surrounded the small pasture reserved for new mothers and their offspring. Neither could take their eyes from the scene before them. The mare lived up to her name, for she was beautiful. The name for the colt would wait for a time until they could agree on one that would suit his personality. For now, the baby was full of the dickens wanting nothing more than to run with abandon.
“Guess for now I’ll call him Rowdy til we can think of somethin’ better. What’d ya think, Scott?” Johnny asked as he continued to watch the horse generously gifted to them from Antonio Herrera.
They couldn’t wait to add this line to their stock. The traits these horses possessed would complement the herds they had at Lancer. An intelligent, fast, and agile breed would be in high demand, and neither could stop the grin that slid across their faces if they had to.
“Hey, Scott, here comes Murdoch. Should we tell him now?”
Scott turned to wave their father to join them. A few minutes later, Murdoch Lancer reined Toby to a halt and stepped down from the saddle as he joined his sons at the fence and took in the scene in the pasture. Belleza grazed on the sweet grass as Rowdy dipped in for a snack of rich milk.
“Boys, that is fine horseflesh! They are magnificent animals! I’m proud of both of you!” Murdoch fairly beamed.
“Well, ol man, we been talkin’ and want ta ask ya somethin’. Ya got time?” Johnny asked, catching Murdoch’s curiosity.
“I’ll make time, Johnny. What is it?” Murdoch looked between his sons. He didn’t know what it was they wanted to talk about, but they definitely had something on their minds judging from the smiles on their faces.
Johnny looked at his brother and nodded.
Scott cleared his throat and began. “Sir, Johnny and I have been talking about this for a while, and we… well, we want you as a partner with the horse business.”
Murdoch’s eyes widened as he again looked at each of his sons. “You both have worked so hard on this… you can’t just give it away!”
“You did, sir… to Johnny and me when we came to Lancer.”
“Yeah, Murdoch, ya pulled my hide outta the fire, and ya saved my life!”
“Murdoch, that goes for me as well. You saved me from a slow and agonizing demise in Boston,” Scott smiled at his father.
“So, what’d ya say ol man? You gave us a chance,” Johnny questioned. His blue eyes sparkled brightly in the sunlight.
Murdoch stood in shock and continued searching the faces before him. Was this a joke? No, he thought not; they were serious! His smile stretched from ear to ear.
“Boys, I’d be honored!” Murdoch replied with a laugh.
“Only one thing, ol man…” Johnny hesitated, and Murdoch suddenly grew unsure.
“We call the tune!” they chorused.
.
.
~end~
Written January 2019
Edited July 2020
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PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT
Thank you for reading! The authors listed on this site spend many hours writing stories for your enjoyment, and their only reward is the feedback you leave. So please take a moment to leave a comment. Even the simplest ‘I liked this!” can make all the difference to an author and encourage them to keep writing and posting their stories here. You can comment in the ‘reply’ box below or email Buckskin directly.
Great story and wonderful to read another lengthy, well written piece from you. Like the original characters and the view of The Lancers. Hope there will be more horse orientated stories to follow this one. Thank you!
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Hi, Pauline!
Thank you for your comments on Hunter’s Moon. I’m glad the story held your interest. It kind of mushroomed, taking me along for the ride!
Thanks again!
Diana
Buckskin
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Diana, this was an incredible adventure! It was great following Johnny from Lancer to Mexico and back. Your descriptions made the trip come alive for me. The characters were very believable too. I felt I knew them all by the end of the story, so that’s down to your good writing. Thank you for this good story. It’s one I’ll read again.
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Hey there, Sherry! I’m glad you were able to go along with Johnny on this adventure! He certainly had his hands full. The characters came alive due to the phenomenal person that Johnny was. He needed a worthy adversary, being the Rurales, Henry Nolan, and good old Nacho. And he needed the good guys, men like Don Herrera and Rafa Delgado. Thank you for your interest and appreciation for Hunter’s Moon. It means the world to me!
Diana
Buckskin
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Hey there, BB Sis! This is a remarkable tale! I am always so impressed with your carefully woven plots and rich details. The resolutions with Nolan and Don Herrera were perfect. And the ending… no better family moment! LSisC
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Hey, LSisC! I’m happy you liked this story. Johnny sure can get himself into trouble, can’t he? (Hence the the plot lines!) And he always believed in second chances and it applied here, as well. What happened in the ending, to me, was a reasonable way compromise- Murdoch had to give in!
Thanks for reading and sending your wonderful feedback!
Diana
Buckskin
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I enjoyed this story very much. I especially enjoyed the fact that Johnny had no love interest other than family and horses, of course. It was truly a breath of fresh air.
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Hi, Michele, and thank you for reading and the comments. Can’t go wrong with Johnny Madrid Lancer and horses, can you?
Thanks again!
Diana
Bucksin
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Enjoyable, well plotted, and exciting! Thanks for sharing your talent with us.
Terri (aka Doc)
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Hey, Terri! Thank you and you are welcome! I’m happy you found this story exciting- it was a fun story to write!
Diana
Buckskin
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I always like your stories. Señor Herrera was truly an honorable man. Anyone else would have probably killed Henry Nolan.
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Hi, Lesley- Thank you for reading my Lancer World! I appreciate it very much! I thought Don Herrera’s reaction was reasonable after hearing Nolan’s troubles, and considering his own son. I’m glad you found it so as well.
Thank you for reading and passing along your thoughts! I appreciate it very much!
Diana
Buckskin
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That was a good long read that never lost its way. Henry Nolan was a lucky man, the Lancer’s who he betrayed and Snr. Herrera who he stole from displayed honour and compassion.
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Hey there! I’m glad you liked this tale. And yes, Henry was lucky, and stupid, but desperation makes you do stupid things. If he had only been honest, but then, I wouldn’t have a story, so I’m glad he wasn’t honest! Herrera knew what it was like losing a son, and displayed honor and compassion. Thank you for reading and sending feedback!
Diana
Buckskin
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This was a great story. My heart was in my mouth when Johnny was being taken back to Mexico. Every time I had to put it down I couldn’t wait to pick it up again.
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Hey there, Tina! Nothing pleases an author more than to have the reader on the edge of their seat, and thank you for saying you were nervous regarding Johnny’s trip back to Mexico. He had his ideas about Rafa Delgado, of where the man stood with the Rurales, and Delgado had his suspicions of who Johnny was, but the threat returning was first and foremost on Johnnys mind. He had to get away.
Thank you for reading and commenting!
Diana
Buckskin
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Another fantastic story! Lots of twists and turns and Johnny. I sure hope your idea well keeps springing!
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Hey there, zoeytbear! Oh, thank you very much! Yup, Johnny had his hands full with the horse, the Rurales and Henry Nolan, but in true Madrid form, he came through yet again. Thanks for the feedback. I appreciate it!
Diana
Buckskin
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Yet another delightful story from Ms Buckskin! I love the way you write and you have grown better and better with each story.
The one thing I particularly like is on these long “Novella” type stories – you don’t spend an inordinate amount of time consuming Johnny with danger – the story moves at a fast pace and before I shut the PC down too afraid that Johnny will get stuck in a Rurale prison – you’ve figured a way out for our gorgeous hero. Instead of Murdoch and Scott lingering at Lancer for days going back and forth wondering if they should look for Johnny – they leave without a moment’s notice once they are almost certain.
These are all little things – but they grate on my nerves when reading a story. I ultimately know when I start one of yours that I will finish it, and you will bring me all kinds of twists and turns along the way.
Keep writing Buckskin – I like my Lancer with a side of Scott, Val, and Murdoch with heaping spoonful’s of Johnny.
Cathie
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Hi, Cathie! WOW! That was quite a glowing review and I don’t know that I’m deserving of those words but… Thank you so much and I’m glad you like my Lancer World! Something that has stuck with me as I write is the fact that the pilot of Lancer should have been a two hour episode and so much was left out in regards to how the characters felt, personal thoughts and that kind of thing, but in fan fiction, we are not held to those restraints, and they help to build the story and make it believable. Ha! You’re funny! A side of Scott, Val and Murdoch! You’ll never have to worry about being short on JML, though!
Thank you, Cathie, I appreciate your kind words!
Diana
Buckskin
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Señor Herrera is such a fun character. Nolan isn’t the typical bad guy either so the ending is a nice surprise. You did such a great job of building the suspense of how will Johnny get in trouble to the solution of getting free. The fun way that Johnny gets payback. How his family gets to see another piece of the puzzle of Johnny’s old life and understand why so many fear and respect him. I love Johnny being so good with horses. The show hints at it, but you have built on it and it just fits. A nice story to fill my time with. I love how you build the original characters with the Lancer tried and true. May the muse strike soon, as I look forward to reading more stories
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Hi, Kathleen! I love when readers point out something that was in front of me the whole time and I didn’t see it! You pointed out that Murdoch and Scott got to see a side of Madrid, and that notion never popped into this pea-sized brain! Thank you for pointing that out. Herrera needed to be a strong yet reasonable man. he was not the heartless don so many others were and he did understand why Nolan did what he did- not condoning it , but he understood.
Thank you do much for you review and for taking the time to send feedback. I appreciate it so much!
Diana
Buckskin
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This is one of my favorites so far on the list of reading and commenting on so many of your pieces; for it has all the elements of a classic storyline: betrayal, revenge, forgiveness, redemption, and gratitude as observed with its amazing ending. The last line is not only brilliantly stated, but also humorously interpreted by its own multilayered meanings from the pilot episode to now: “‘We call the tune!’ they chorused.” Yes, those two young Lancer men deserve to call the tune in their successful horse breeding business but they will still have their father by their sides to help and guide them onward to more successful adventures!
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Hey there, Carol – Thank you for the comments! I appreciate it. As Johnny navigated the turbulence he found himself in, all those elements you listed, he was thrown into a cauldron of trouble, leaving him to draw on his wits and reactions to see him through. I particularly enjoyed writing the confrontation between Johnny, Henry Nolan, and Antonio Herrera at the end. This was a fun story to write, and I’m happy you like it!
Diana
Buckskin
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This really is a cracking, rollercoaster of a story. Congratulations and thank you. Please continue to share your wonderful talent with your grateful readers.
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Thank you, Helen! That’s quite the compliment! Glad you liked this Lancer tale. It’s a favorite of mine, so a comment like yours is so appreciated.
Thanks again!
Diana
Buckskin
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