Conflicted by SandySha

Word Count 13,091

With excerpts from the original episode and script written by Laurence Heath. 
Thanks to the best beta in the world, Terri Derr, better known as Doc.
Any mistakes are mine.

Episode Tag:  The Lawman

#3 in the Lawman Series

*

Murdoch leaned back in his favorite leather armchair, his legs out in front of him.  He gazed at the crystal glass of Talisker in his right hand, watching the deep amber liquid glisten in the warm glow of the fire.   The room was enveloped in darkness, with only the crackling of the fire and the steady ticking of the grandfather clock breaking the silence.

It wasn’t the first time the Patron of Lancer had sat here alone, drinking and staring into the fire.  This time was different.  The rancher’s emotions had spiked and fallen so many times in the past five days that not even his best Scotch or the earthy, sweet smell of oak wood smoke could settle his mind; too much had happened. 

A heavy log shifted and rolled in the hearth, causing the fire to roar to life.  As he watched the blue flames and the dance of light and dark shadows, he was reminded of his youngest son’s piercing eyes and the flash of anger he’d seen in them earlier that day.

Turning his head slowly, he fixed his gaze upon the imposing French doors that seemed to stand as a barrier between him and his desires. A deep sigh escaped his lips, carrying with it the heavy burden of regret that seemed to weigh down his entire being. In that fleeting moment, he yearned for the impossible, wishing for the power to manipulate time itself, to journey back five days into the past and rectify the haunting mistakes he’d made, to somehow make things right.

---

He was so excited when he received Joe’s telegram and proud to introduce his sons to his old friend.  He hadn’t seen the warning signs, but Johnny had.  Or maybe he had seen them, but he didn’t want to believe Joe had changed. 

After Evans escaped and Gibbs was found dead, Murdoch had worried himself sick over Johnny.  He didn’t care what Joe thought or what his son’s reputation was.  In his heart, he knew Johnny was innocent.   

Of course, he’d been proven right, but at what cost?  Over the last three days, Murdoch Lancer had felt the betrayal of one of his oldest friends and the worry over first Johnny and then Scott.

Yesterday, Bill Gibbs and Al Evans were buried in Green River.  Not bothering to ask either Scott or Johnny, Murdoch decided against burying the men on Lancer land.  He didn’t want a constant reminder of the betrayal he’d felt, and he was sure his sons wouldn’t want to be reminded of the events of the last few days. 

This morning, he’d goodbye to his friend, but not before promising to go to Sacramento and do what he could to help him.  

---

As Joe and Thompkins rode away, Murdoch walked back into the house.  Teresa and Scott followed him, but Johnny hadn’t come with them. 

“Where’s your brother?”

Scott glanced towards the door.  “Still out there.  Making sure Barker is really gone, unless I miss my guess.”

“Joe’s gone.”  Murdoch walked to his desk and collapsed in his chair.  “We need to try to get past this.”  

“That isn’t going to be as easy as you might hope.”  Scott headed for the French doors and looked out.  Johnny was right where they’d left him.  He turned back to look at his father.  “Sir, did you mean what you said about going to Sacramento to speak on Barker’s behalf?”

Murdoch nodded.  “Yes.  Yes, I did.  It’s the least I can do.”

Scott stared at his father and started to speak, but for the life of him, he was having trouble with the words coming out.

“You can’t mean that,” Teresa angrily said.  “Why is it the least you can do?  After what he did, you’re still defending him?”

“Teresa, you don’t understand.  I’ve —”

“I don’t want to hear it.  I understand that man came into our home as a friend, and it almost cost you both of your sons.”

“You’re upset,” Murdoch said, standing and walking to her.  Taking her shoulders, he stared down into her angry blue eyes.  “We’ll talk about it another time.  Why don’t you go lay down for a little while?”

Teresa looked at Murdoch and then at Scott.  She shook her head. Men! Why was it that when a woman was upset, their answer was to go lie down?  Yes, she was upset, and maybe it would be wise to put some distance between her and her guardian.

“All right.  I’ll lie down for an hour, but I’m not the only one you need to be concerned about.  You didn’t see Johnny’s reaction when you said you were going to Sacramento.”

When she hurried out of the room, Murdoch turned to Scott.  “I suppose you have something to say as well?”

“I do, and frankly, I’m having as hard a time understanding your attitude as Teresa.”

“Scott, the last few days have been stressful.  I think we all need time to let the dust settle.”

“You …” Scott heaved a sigh and rubbed his right shoulder with his good hand.  “Never mind.  I think I’ll go back upstairs.”   

“Good idea.  Do you need something for the pain?  I can have Maria—”

“No, I just need to lie down.” 

Murdoch watched Scott walk up the stairs and disappear.  He moved to his chair and sat down.  So much had happened that he hadn’t had time to really think about the ramifications of Joe’s actions on his family.  It was obvious that Scott and Teresa were angry at him.   As for Johnny, the boy hadn’t spoken to him since the previous afternoon outside the guardhouse.

Murdoch closed his eyes, going back over what happened.  What could he have done differently?  What could he do to fix it?

He was tired, too tired.  Looking one more time at the French doors, he knew he was too exhausted to go another round with Johnny.

The personal and emotional conflict had taken its toll.  Joe Barker was on his way to Sacramento to answer for his crimes, but Murdoch Lancer was left to pick up the pieces of his family—if he could.

---

Joe Barker and Jim Thompkins were a few hours from Lancer when Thompkins motioned towards the stream they were crossing.  “We’re stopping to rest the horses.”

Joe nodded.  “I could use a break and a drink of water.”

“I’m sure you could,” Thompkins smirked.  “What was it you said about Evans?  Oh, yeah, he had more to sweat about than we did?  Well, old man, you’ve got something to sweat about now.”   

“Thompkins, I swear….”

“What, Barker?  There’s nothing you can do.  I get you to Sacramento, and with my testimony, you’ll hang.”

“Maybe not.”

“You’d rather go to prison?” Thompkins laughed.  “You know how many men you’ve put in those prisons?  I sure wouldn’t want to be locked up with them.”

Joe knew it was the truth.  He wouldn’t last two days in any prison in California, but he sure didn’t want to swing either.

Dismounting, Thompkins stood back, watching Barker go to the stream’s edge.  “Yes, sir.  It’s gonna be something to see you dancing at the end of a rope.  Then, I’m going back to Porterville and take over your job.  In a few months, no one’s gonna even remember your name.”

Joe turned and glared at Thompkins.  At that moment, he wished Evans had shot Thompkins instead of Gibbs.  If he had a gun, he’d shoot the arrogant bastard himself.

Joe knelt at the edge of the creek and scooped up a handful of water. When he reached forward, he felt something shift in his shirt pocket and watched a piece of paper fall onto the ground in front of him.

 He glanced over his shoulder to see if Thompkins had noticed and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the deputy busy with his horse.

He quickly palmed the paper, pausing when it was heavier than expected.

“Alright, mount up.  We’ve got some ground to cover before we camp tonight.  The way I figure it, with today being Monday, we’ll be in Sacramento by Tuesday night.  If things work out, I’ll be heading back to Porterville by Thursday.”

Joe slipped the paper back into his pocket and clumsily mounted, fighting the handcuffs Thompkins insisted on keeping on him.

“You’ve got it all worked out, don’t you?  You just can’t wait to get back and take over my job.”

“That’s right.  Of course, I’ll come back for your trial and…,” he laughed, “to watch you hang.”

Riding at a leisurely pace, Joe edged his horse slightly behind Thompkins.   When he was sure the deputy couldn’t see, Joe raised his hands and lifted the piece of paper from his pocket.  He hadn’t spent time examining it earlier, but now he could feel something solid wrapped inside. 

Slowly unfolding the paper, Barker’s eyes widened.  In his hand was a single shiny handcuff key.   He quickly scanned the message written on the paper.  The last line read, ‘Check the saddlebags.’

Carefully, he placed the key in his shirt pocket and refolded the paper.   He didn’t know who was trying to help him, but he wasn’t going to question it.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Thompkins wasn’t paying attention to him, but there was no way he could check the saddlebags with his hands cuffed.  He would have to wait until they stopped again.

Barker used the time until their next stop to plan what he would do with his hands free.  Johnny Lancer had declined the chance to get away.  Joe Barker had no doubt that was what he was going to do, but to what extent would he go?  That was the question.  

With any luck, he’d find a gun in the saddlebags. If not, he’d have to imitate Evans and attempt to outrun Thompkins, and he didn’t hold much hope of that working. 

Looking at the sun’s position, Barker knew it was close to noon.  A few moments later, Thompkins answered the ex-lawman’s unspoken prayer.

“There’s a river up ahead.  We’re going to stop for a while.  That Mex housekeeper of Murdoch’s loaded us down with food.  Might as well try it.”

Joe smiled.  Depending on what he found in the saddlebags, this would be the perfect time to make his move.  The longer he waited, the further he was from the Mexican border and that much closer to Sacramento.

“Barker, water the horses,” Thompkins ordered.   “I’ll get a fire started for some coffee.”

Barker led the horses to the water’s edge without protest and let them drink their fill.  He started to the saddlebags on his horse and jumped when Thompkins snapped out, “Loosen the cinches.”

Joe nodded and quickly loosened the cinch on Thompkins’s horse.  Then he moved to his horse.  Hidden from Thompkins’s view, Joe looked in the left saddlebag.  There was nothing but wrapped packages of food, much more than he’d expected, but still, nothing that would help him. 

 Slowly, he circled the horse and opened the second bag.  At first, he thought all that was in the bag was his spare shirt, pants, and shaving gear.  Digging deeper, his fingers brushed against a cold gun barrel.   Glancing towards Thompkins to make sure the deputy wasn’t looking, Joe removed the gun from the saddlebag and slid it inside his shirt.  It was then he saw a small leather pouch.  He quickly opened it and smiled when he saw several banknotes.   There was no time to count it.  But it was evident whoever was helping him wanted to ensure he had enough money to get across the border.   He stuffed the money and the note into the pouch, tied the top back tightly, and stuffed it inside his pants pocket.

“Hurry up, Barker.  I want to get back on the road.”

“I’m coming.”

Joe knelt next to the fire Thompkins had started.  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Thompkins laughed, “What’s not to enjoy?”

“I suppose you’ve wired Sacramento telling them about Evans and Gibbs?”

Thompkins shook his head.  “No.  They’re expecting a murderer, and I’m going to deliver one.  I want to ride in there and tell them how the ‘great’ Joe Barker has fallen.”

Joe thought about this new development for a moment.  If no one in Sacramento knew about Evans and Gibbs, then the only people who did know were the Lancers and Thompkins.  No one would be looking for him or miss Thompkins for some time.

“Eat up!” Thompkins’s order brought Barker out of his musings. 

Joe nodded and took one of the roast beef sandwiches.   He ate quietly, all the time planning his next move.

Standing, he motioned towards the bushes to the side of the clearing. 

Thompkins nodded.  “Stay where I can see your back.”

Joe did his business, then, before turning around, he removed the handcuff key from his pocket.  He quickly undid the cuffs and put them in his pants pocket.  Before turning, he removed the revolver from his shirt.  Quickly checking to ensure it was loaded, Joe turned and walked back to the fire.

Thompkins looked up only when Barker was a few feet away.   Seeing the gun in Joe’s hand, Thompkins’ eyes widened.  “What the hell.”   

Joe quietly said, “Stand up and drop your gun.”

Thompkins stood.  “You know you can’t get away.”

“I’m willing to take my chances.  Now, drop your gun, kick it over here, and turn around.”

Thompkins used his left hand to unbuckle his gun belt.  He had the belt in his hand, but instead of dropping it, he threw it at Barker and then lunged at him.

Barker should have expected it.  Evans had done the same thing to him in the guardhouse.  This time, Barker pushed the younger man away and held his ground.  Thompkins grabbed for the gun.

The two men wrestled for the weapon, rolling across the ground and into the fire, sending sparks flying. Thompkins shoved Joe away and attempted to stand. Finally getting the upper hand, Joe brought the butt of the gun down on the side of Thompkins’ head, then lowered the unconscious man to the ground.  

Heaving and trying to catch his breath, it took a moment for Barker to realize he was a free man.   Now, he needed to decide what to do with Thompkins. 

Joe pressed the gun barrel to the other man’s head, ready to pull the trigger, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.  No matter what, he was still a lawman, and he’d never killed a man in cold blood. 

What would happen if he did kill Thompkins?  Burying him would be the first order of business, and then what?   The only people who knew what happened to Evans and Gibbs were at Lancer.  The only person who knew what happened to Thompkins was himself. 

Barker shook himself.  Should anyone find out who helped him escape, that person would be as guilty as him.   Juries didn’t look favorably on murderers.   Yes, he was free, but at what cost?  Would he sentence another person to be hung because of his action? 

With his mind made up, Barker went to Thompkins’ saddlebags, found his holster and gun, and strapped them on.  Next, he took what food he could and put it in his own saddlebags.  Then, taking one last look at Thompkins, he mounted and started south across the river.

Joe was in the middle of the river when he heard Thompkins scream, “Stop.  Barker, stop, or I’ll shoot.”

With no intention of stopping and not looking back, Joe kicked the horse to move faster.   A few seconds later, he felt a bullet slice along his left side.  He slid over the horse’s neck, urging it forward, hanging on for all he was worth.   A second bullet whizzed past his head, spooking the horse and causing it to falter.   The horse went one way, and Joe went the other. 

Seconds later, he found himself in the water, moving with the current.   Floundering, he tried to swim, but a third bullet thudded off a log floating near him.  Joe took a breath and dove under the water.  He heard another bullet zing as it hit the water and glanced off his forehead.  The last he knew was his world going dark in what he knew was going to be a watery grave.

---

Jim Thompkins slowly opened his eyes.  Rolling to his knees, he shook his head and looked around.   Realization struck.  His head was throbbing, and his prisoner was gone, but his horse was still there, standing near the stream.  He breathed a sigh of relief as he looked closer and saw his rifle in the boot.

He struggled to his feet, feeling unsteady as he tried to regain his balance.  Looking around, he saw Barker mid-stream of the river.  He hurried to his horse and wrenched his Winchester from its scabbard. 

Turning, he moved to the water’s edge and yelled a warning, “Stop! Barker, stop or I’ll shoot!”

When Barker didn’t respond, Thompkins raised the rifle, took aim, and squeezed off a shot.  He had a brief moment of satisfaction when he saw Barker slump forward but knew the man wasn’t going to stop. 

A second shot, this time aimed for Barker’s head, caused the horse to shy, sending its rider into the swift current of the river.  Barker went under but immediately surfaced.  Thompkins fired again, missing his target and hitting a log floating on the surface instead.    Without waiting, he fired another shot to where he thought Barker was.

Lowering the rifle, Thompkins tried to see Barker, but the churning water swallowed the former marshal.

Across the river, on the opposite bank, Barker’s horse, reins dangling, walked out of the water and trotted away.

Thompkins didn’t know how long he sat on the river bank, staring at the water.  There was no sign of Marshal Joe Barker. 

The deputy’s mind started racing.  What should he do?  He’d had such high hopes of turning Barker over to the Marshal Service in Sacramento and getting a pat on the back for his efforts.  Now, Barker was gone…dead.  His partner was dead.  Al Evans was dead.  All in all, it was not a great record for the future Marshal of Porterville. 

He had to think.  What was he going to do?  Suddenly, it came to him.  Only the Lancers knew what happened to Al Evans.   So what if everyone still thought of Barker as some kind of hero?  Barker was dead.   

Making up his mind, Thompkins saddled his horse, broke camp, and set out for Sacramento.  Things were going to work out just fine.  There was no doubt Lancer would go along with whatever story Thompkins told.  He was sure Murdoch Lancer wouldn’t want his friend’s name and reputation soiled by what he’d done. 

---

The afternoon slowly turned into evening.  When Maria announced dinner was ready, Murdoch, Scott, and Teresa sat in silence, barely touching their food and staring at the empty place at the table where Johnny should have been. 

“Maybe we should go find him,” Teresa spoke up.

“No, sweetheart.  Johnny knows what time we eat.  He’ll be along when he’s ready.”

Teresa dipped her head, sighed, and then slowly nodded.

Finally, giving up, the three pushed back from the table.  Murdoch looked at an unhappy Maria and tried to smile.  “Would you leave a plate in the oven for Johnny?  I’m sure he’ll be hungry when he …. Well, just keep a plate warm for him.”

The grandfather clock chimed eleven times, and still, there was no sign of Johnny.  Scott and Teresa had gone to bed hours ago, leaving Murdoch to his own thoughts and demons.

Murdoch was ready to give up and call it a night when he heard the sound of the front door open and Johnny’s spurs jingling.

He waited to see which way his son would go.  When the sound of spurs stopped in the middle of the room, Murdoch knew Johnny was standing behind him.

Murdoch took a breath and, without moving, softly said, “You missed dinner.  Maria left a plate in the oven for you.”

There was a silent pause.  “Sorry.  Didn’t know you were still up.”

“I waited up for you.”

“No need.  I think I’ll head up to bed.”

“Would you like to talk?”

“Not much to talk about.” 

Murdoch set the glass of whiskey on the table next to his chair and stood.  “You’re upset.  That’s reason enough to talk.”

“Not tonight, Murdoch.  I’m tired, and I haven’t had much sleep the last few nights.  Besides, I need to get up early.  We’re moving the herd to the new pasture tomorrow…if that’s what you still want.”

It took a moment for Murdoch to catch onto what was said.   Rounding up the cattle and readying the new pasture seemed like ages ago.  When he didn’t say anything, Johnny turned away.   

“John…”

Johnny’s eyes met Murdoch’s, and the older man’s heart ached.  What could he say to ease the pain and confusion he saw there?

Without waiting, Johnny walked away and up the stairs.  A few moments later, Murdoch heard a door slam shut. 

“Murdoch.” 

Startled, Murdoch turned to find Teresa, wearing a nightgown and robe, standing in the dining room.  “Sweetheart, you should be in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she sighed.  “I thought some warm milk would help.  Would you like some?”

Murdoch smiled, “Yes, I would.”

While Teresa heated the milk, Murdoch sat at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.

“Is everything ever going to be alright again?”  Teresa’s question took him by surprise.  “We were just beginning to become a family when…”

“I know.”

Teresa set a mug of warm milk in front of her guardian and joined him at the table.   After a long silence, she said, “Things are going to get back to normal now, aren’t they?”  She looked at Murdoch and smiled, “I mean …to whatever we can call normal.”

Murdoch reached out and put his large hand over hers.  “I hope so.”

“You are going to make things right with Johnny?”

He sighed, “Teresa…”

“I mean, now that Mr. Barker is gone.”

“I’ll do my best, but I have a feeling it’s not going to be that simple.”

“You mean because of what you’re going to do?  You’re going to Sacramento to try to help him, aren’t you?”

Murdoch nodded.

“Even after what he did and what he was trying to do to Johnny.”

“Joe would have never let Johnny —”

“You don’t know that.  You can’t say what he would have done.  Mr. Barker was desperate.”

“He’s my friend.”

“And Johnny… Johnny’s your son.” 

“Yes, he is.  Teresa, we all do what we need to do in this world.  I have to help Joe…if I can.”

She took a deep breath.  “Well, maybe something will happen, and you won’t need to go.”   

“I don’t see that happening,” Murdoch said, finishing his now cool milk.  “It’s late.  We need to go to bed.  There’s a lot to do around here in the next few days if I’m going to make it to Sacramento.”

“What about the cattle auction?”

Murdoch shook his head.  “It doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.  Come on, now.  It’s late, and I, for one, need some rest.”

Teresa gathered the cups and put them in the sink.  Murdoch waited until she was headed for her room before he turned down the light in the kitchen.  Then he went to the Great Room, locked the doors, and turned the lamps off.  He took one step at a time, slowly making his way upstairs and to his room, more tired than he could remember being in a very long time.

---

The sun’s first rays were peeking over the eastern mountains when Scott and Cipriano stopped on the hill overlooking the gathered herd.  From the dust cloud and the sound of bawling calves, they could tell that the herd was already on the move.   

Scott glanced at Cipriano.  “It looks like Johnny’s already got the men working.”

“Si,” Lancer’s Segundo wasn’t smiling.  “Juanito should have waited for us.”

“You do know who you’re talking about?” Scott laughed.  “Don’t you?”

Cipriano chuckled.  “Si.  Do you think he needs help?”

“Well, we’re here.  We might as well.”

Cipriano looked over his shoulder and motioned to the men who had ridden out with them.  “Vayamos hombres.”

Scott held his horse back as a dozen men rode past.   Pushing himself up in his stirrups, he scanned the area for any sign of his brother.   Seeing Johnny on the right flank, he kicked his horse forward.

“Johnny!” Scott yelled as he got closer.

Johnny reined his horse around and stopped. 

“Need any help?”

Johnny took his hat off and wiped his brow with the back of his arm.  “Sure, if you feel like getting dirty.”

“We missed you at breakfast.”  

“Wasn’t hungry.  Besides, I wanted to get a jump on the job.”

Scott shook his head, remembering the discussion that morning with Murdoch.  Finding out Johnny had already gone without letting anyone know was not the way to start the day.     “You do know how to poke the bear, don’t you?”

Johnny shook his head.  “Don’t take much…at least for me.”

“Johnny—”

“Look, let’s just get this done.  The old man will be in a better mood when he knows his cows are safe and sound in the new pasture.”

Without another word, Johnny wheeled around and rode toward the head of the herd.

Scott sat a moment longer before turning and heading for the other side of the moving cattle.

---

Murdoch arrived at the new pasture shortly before noon and in time to see the last of the cattle settled.  Looking around, he spotted his sons.  Johnny was talking with Cipriano, and Scott was riding toward them. 

Deciding to make his presence known, he kicked his horse forward, raising a hand to wave as he did.  Scott and Cipriano waved back.  Johnny waited a moment before nodding.

Catching up with the men, Murdoch smiled and looked directly at his youngest son.  “I see you’re finished already.  Good work.”

Scott’s eyes went from Murdoch to Johnny.  Realizing Johnny wasn’t going to respond, Scott spoke up, “Johnny got a head start on the job this morning.  He had the herd moving before we got out here.”

Murdoch kept the smile on his face.  “Well, good work, son.”

Johnny mumbled a weak “Thanks.”

“I see I got here in time for lunch.  What do you say we eat and then ride back to the ranch together?”

“I like the sound of that,” Scott quickly responded.

“Not real hungry,” Johnny answered.  “I’ll go ahead —.”

“Nonsense,” Murdoch jumped in, raising a hand and ending the protest. “You missed breakfast, and I know Teresa and Maria packed enough for all of us.”  Murdoch pointed to a stand of trees. “There’s plenty of shade over there. Cip, make sure the men eat before they go to their next assignments.”

“Si, Patron.” Cipriano wheeled his horse around and galloped back to the rest of the men.

“Come on, you two.  I’ve worked up an appetite riding out here.”

Scott looked at the expression on his brother’s face, expecting him to bolt, but to his surprise, Johnny reined his horse around and followed their father.

The shade of the stand of oak trees was a welcome relief from the noonday sun.  A slight breeze came up as father and sons dismounted and loosened their cinches. 

Murdoch lifted his saddlebags and carried them to where Scott was seated near a fallen tree.

“Scott, why don’t you do the honors.”

Scott smiled, “Gladly.  I could eat anything right now.”

Murdoch lowered himself to the ground, with his back to a tree.  His eyes went to Johnny, who was still standing.  “Sit down, son.”

“Murdoch…”

“Sit.” Murdoch motioned.

Johnny eased down beside Scott and heaved a sigh. 

A slight breeze rustled the leaves overhead.  “This is nice.  I don’t get to get out here as much as I used to.”

Scott opened the saddlebags and started pulling out their lunch.  He opened the cloth-wrapped sandwiches to see what the ladies had packed.  “It looks like you have a choice, brother.”   He held out his hands, a sandwich in each.   “Beef or ham.”

Johnny took the ham sandwich.

“Sir?”

“Beef for me, Scott.  Thank you.”

As Murdoch and Scott bit into their sandwiches, Johnny hesitated. 

“Eat up, son.  You don’t want to upset the ladies.”

“Eat…please,” Scott laughed.  “If we want anything to eat tonight, you’d better make Maria and Teresa happy.”

Johnny unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite.   Murdoch and Scott exchanged glances, smiled, and began eating. 

Murdoch waited until Johnny finished his first sandwich and was starting on another before breaking the silence.  “What have you boys got planned for the rest of the day?”    

Scott shrugged.  “We missed orders this morning.  What needs to be done?”

Murdoch laughed, “There’s always something that needs to be done, but nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.  I was thinking that you two might want to go back to the ranch, clean up, and go into town.”

Scott looked for a response from his brother.  “In the middle of the week?  It’s only Tuesday.”

“As owners, I believe there are times we can take a break if we want to.  What do you say?”   

“Johnny?”

“Sure.  Why not?  I could stand a cool beer right about now.”

“It’s settled then.”  Murdoch started gathering the remains of their lunch.  “You two go ahead, and I’ll let Cipriano know we’re heading home.”

---

Scott knocked once on Johnny’s door and pushed it open.  “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, just need to comb my hair.”  Johnny wet his hand and raked his hair down with his fingers.

Scott shook his head and laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, brother.  Let’s go.”

“Hold on.  What’s so funny?”

“Do you even own a comb?”

Johnny smiled.  “Sure I do.  It’s around here someplace.  Easier to use my fingers.”

As they walked downstairs together, Scott reached over and rustled his brother’s hair.

“Hey….”  Johnny responded and ran his fingers through his hair.

When they reached the main floor, both men headed for the front door. 

“Have a good time.”

They turned to see Murdoch seated at his desk.

“Yes, sir,” Scott responded.  “We won’t be too late.”

Johnny stopped and turned back.  Striding towards the desk, he stopped mid-way through the room.  “Murdoch, can I ask you a question?”

 “Of course.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you loosening the reins today and letting us go to town?”

“It’s simple.  The last few days have been difficult for you and your brother.  I figured you could use some time to let off steam.”

Johnny slowly nodded.  “Yeah, we have, but it wouldn’t have anything to do with you going to Sacramento, would it?”

Murdoch thought carefully about his answer.  “If you’re asking if I’m going, then the answer is yes.  Does that have anything to do with my sons going into town on a weekday?  No.”

Johnny’s voice was low and soft, so low Murdoch had to strain to hear him.  “Barker stabbed you in the back and didn’t have the guts to face you, and you’re still going to help him.”

“Yes.”  Murdoch stood and walked around the desk.  “Now, let me ask you something.  You were willing to help Evans even though you barely remembered him.  Why?”

Johnny took a deep breath but didn’t answer.

“I’m waiting for an answer.  I’ve known Joe Barker for twenty years.  He’s saved my life more than once.  I know what he did was inexcusable, but I do owe him.   What did you owe Evans?”     

Johnny straightened his shoulders.  “Not a damn thing.  He asked for my help.”

“And you were willing to take time away from the ranch and ride to Sacramento with him, a man you barely knew.”

“That’s right, but when he asked for my help, he hadn’t tried to get me hung.”

“Son, you took a dislike to Joe the moment you saw him.  I didn’t see it then, but now, thinking back, I should have.  You didn’t trust him—”

“And with good reason.”

Murdoch nodded.  “Perhaps, but I did.  He was my friend, not yours.  I have to….no, I need to stand by him now, just like I stood by you when you were in the guardhouse.” 

Johnny’s eyes met his father’s.  Neither man looked away.  Finally, Johnny lowered his head.  “Alright.  You do what you have to do.”

Turning, Johnny saw Scott standing behind him.  “Let’s get out of here.” 

“Johnny,” Murdoch paused, “I hope you can understand.”     

Johnny gave a sharp nod before heading for the door, his spurs jingling. 

Once the front door slammed shut, Murdoch turned to his oldest.  “Scott.”

“I’ll talk to him.”  Scott turned to go.

“Scott, you understand.  Don’t you?”

Scott’s shoulders straightened.  “I’m trying.”

---

Scott and Johnny stopped in front of The Silver Dollar Saloon. The ride into town had been quiet, and neither brother had tried to strike up a conversation.

Once they tied their horses off, Johnny led the way.  

“What do you want?” Scott asked as they stepped inside.    

“Beer,” Johnny replied as he continued into the darkened room.

“Beer it is.  I suppose I’m buying.”

Johnny smiled.  “Suppose you are.”

Scott walked up to the bar as Johnny made his way to the back corner table. 

Hank Devers watched the brothers walk in.  When Johnny walked past without stopping, he knew Scott would be ordering for both of them.  “Afternoon, Scott.  It’s only Tuesday.  Not used to seeing you two in here in the middle of the week.”

Scott smiled and pushed his hat back on his head.  “Hello, Hank.  We earned some time off.”

“What’ll it be?”

“Two beers.”

“Coming right up.  If you want to go sit down, I’ll bring them over.”

“If it’s no bother.”

“It’s not busy in here.  Go ahead and sit down.  Besides, Johnny looks like he needs more than a beer.”

“He’s had a rough last few days.”

“Heard you had some trouble out at the ranch over the weekend.  Everything alright now?”

“Everything’s fine,” Scott answered, not wanting to discuss the events of the last few days. 

“Well, then go ahead and see if you can cheer him up.”

Scott tossed four bits onto the bar.  “Keep the change.”

“Thanks.”

As Scott approached the table, Johnny kicked a chair out for him and looked towards the bar.  “Beers?”

“Hank’s bringing them.”

Scott sat, stretched out his legs, and tossed his hat onto the table.   

A few seconds later, Hank sat their beers in front of them.  “Enjoy.”

“Thanks.” Johnny reached for his glass.  “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Here’s to you, brother.” Scott lifted his glass in a toast.

After downing half his glass, Johnny sat it back on the table and sighed.

“So, do you want to talk about it?”

Johnny shook his head.  “I don’t see any reason to talk about it.  The old man has his mind made up.  I don’t know why I expected anything different.”

“What do you mean…anything different?”

“Never mind.”

Scott sat his glass down and leaned towards his brother.  “Talk to me, Johnny.”

“I don’t know.  Somehow, I thought…”

“Thought what?”

Johnny dropped his head, staring at the glass on the table, and sighed.  “I thought I was starting to matter to the old man.”

Scott shifted in his chair and looked at his brother sternly.  “What are you talking about?  You do matter to him.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Johnny, you didn’t see Murdoch when you were locked in the guardhouse.  He was worried about you, and he cared enough to give you the opportunity to escape.”

“Remember, that first day in your room, I told you I don’t trust anyone?”

“I remember.  You said it saves a lot of disappointment.”

“That’s right.”

“What’s that got to do with Murdoch?  I would have thought that after all this time, you trusted him.”

“Maybe a little, but there’s still part of me…”

“A part of you that doesn’t trust him?  Why?”    

“Too many years of believing he kicked us out when I was a baby.  Of thinking he didn’t want me.  I hated that old man.  Hated him enough to want to put a bullet in him.”

“But…”

“But he wasn’t what…who I believed he was.”

“What stopped you from shooting him that first day?”

“You, big brother,” Johnny smiled.  “You’d just found your father.  I didn’t want to take him away from you.”

“I appreciate that.  More than you know.” Scott returned the smile.  “You know he’s your father too.  But that was months ago.   So, why not trust him now?”

Johnny paused to take another sip of his beer.  Setting the glass down, he turned it in his hand, thinking.  He raised his eyes and looked at Scott.

“You know, when he came to the guardhouse the other day and said he was giving me a chance to get away if I wanted to, the first thing I thought was that it was some kind of trick.  You know Murdoch Lancer is the most strait-laced, law-abiding man I know.   But when I saw the expression on his face, I could tell how much it was costing him to make the offer.    

“When I told him I wasn’t gonna run, I thought I’d done what he wanted.  I even imagined he was kinda proud of me.”

“I’m sure he was.”

“Yeah, but then I found out none of it was his idea.  It was Barker who suggested it to him.  That’s when I realized the old man trusted Barker more than he trusted me.  He trusted the law, so much so that he’d have let me ride off to Sacramento and swing.”

“That would never have happened.  I told you that.”

“Yeah, you did.  It means a lot to me that you would have been willing to… well, you know.”

 “I know,” Scott smiled.  “Now, drink your beer.  It’s your turn to buy.”

Johnny picked up his glass and drained it.  He looked towards the bar and motioned to Hank.  “Two more of the same.”

“Coming right up.”  Hank grabbed two clean beer mugs and filled them.   He’d just stepped from behind the bar when the bat wing doors of the saloon opened, and a man stepped in.   “I’ll be right with you, mister.”

“Take your time.”

Johnny tapped Scott’s arm and pointed towards the bar.  “What the hell.”

Scott looked at the man at the bar.  “Thompkins?”

---

It was three o’clock on Tuesday afternoon when Jim Thompkins entered Green River.  He was tired and hungry and needed a drink before riding onto Lancer.

The day before, he had decided to go straight to Sacramento, but he hadn’t traveled more than a mile from the river before stopping.  Dismounting, he paced back and forth, thinking things through.

What would happen if Murdoch Lancer wired Sacramento to find out when Barker’s trial would be?   Questions would be raised, and he’d be forced to tell the truth.  He knew he couldn’t go to Sacramento first.  No, he had to go back to Lancer.

His mind made up, he mounted up and wheeled his horse around.

As he passed the river, Thompkins wasn’t going to stop, but he knew he would regret not at least taking another look around.  He spent another hour scanning the bank, looking for any sign of Barkers’ body.  Not only didn’t he find the body, but there was no sign of Barker’s horse. 

Knowing he had to get moving, Thompkins started south again.  When nightfall came, he set up camp and spent the long night thinking, getting his story straight in his own mind.   Finally, sometime in the middle of the night, he fell asleep. 

When he broke camp this morning, he was determined to get to Lancer by mid-afternoon.  That was before he rode into Green River and saw the saloon.  Now, he figured another hour wouldn’t make a difference.  He needed some food and a drink before facing Murdoch.

Sidling up to the bar, the bartender said, “I’ll be right with you, mister.”

“Take your time.”

He lowered his head and took a deep breath, hoping the bartender would come quickly as he desperately needed a drink. 

“Thompkins?”

---

The deputy jumped upon hearing his name.  As he turned around, his heart skipped a beat, and his palms started to sweat.  The last people he expected to see were Scott and Johnny Lancer.

Johnny pushed back from the table and strode across the room, stopping at the end of the bar.   “Thompkins, what are you doing back?”

Thompkins had planned every word he would say, going over the conversation in his mind countless times, imagining how it would play out.  But at that moment, his thoughts vanished into thin air.  He felt a knot in his stomach as he tried to collect his racing thoughts and find the right words to say.

Finally, he managed to call out, “Johnny…,” he croaked out in a shaky voice.

Scott joined Johnny.  “My brother asked you a question.”

“I was just on my way out to the ranch.  I need to talk to Murdoch.”

“Where’s Barker?” Johnny snapped.

“That’s what I need to discuss—”

“You kill him?  Just like you planned to kill Evans?”

Thompkins’ temper flared.  “Look, there was never any plan to kill Evans.  If you think there was, then Evans played you more than I thought.  As for Joe…well, I’ll tell the story once and only once.  Now, let me get this drink, and I’ll ride out to Lancer and talk to Murdoch.”

Johnny leaned against the bar, staring at Thompkins, his finger tapping on the butt of his Colt.  Finally, he nodded.  “Alright, get your drink.  We’ll be waiting outside.”

Hank waited for the conversation to end and watched Scott and Johnny leave before asking, “What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey,” Thompkins said, his voice deep and rough.  “Make it a double.”

Hank poured the double and slid it across the bar towards Thompkins.   

Thompkins picked up the glass and brought it to his lips.  He took a small sip, relishing the taste, before taking a deep breath.  Then, he tilted the glass back and finished the rest of the liquid in one quick gulp.

Hank, still holding the bottle, asked, “Another?”

Thompkins thought about it a moment before shaking his head.  “No, thanks.”  He tossed a few coins on the bar and turned towards the door.  He needed to get this over with, and there was no sense in putting it off.

---

The ride back to Lancer was quiet.  Thompkins didn’t volunteer any information, and Scott and Johnny didn’t ask.

When they stopped in front of the hacienda, the French doors opened, and Murdoch stepped out with a smile on his face.  “I thought you two—” He stopped in mid-sentence, the smile vanishing when he saw Thompkins.    “What’s going on?  Thompkins…” 

Murdoch looked around the yard for Joe.  A dark cloud formed over his face when he didn’t see his friend. 

“Murdoch, we found Thompkins in town at the saloon.” Johnny dismounted and tied Barranca to the hitching post.  “He wouldn’t tell us anything, only said he needed to talk to you.”

“Well?” Murdoch’s voice boomed.

“Murdoch,” Thompkins tied off his horse and glanced around the yard.  Ranch hands had stopped what they were doing and were looking their way.  “Can we talk inside?”

Murdoch stepped aside and gestured the deputy into the Great Room.  The tension in the air was unmistakable as Murdoch’s expression darkened, and both of his sons could sense his anger.  

Scott and his brother exchanged a knowing glance, aware that whatever was about to happen wasn’t going to be good.

Murdoch walked swiftly across the room and positioned himself directly in front of his desk, fixing his gaze on Thompkins.  He didn’t waste time.  “Start talking.  Where’s Joe?”

Teresa appeared silently from the kitchen and stood in the doorway.  Although she didn’t say anything, her mere presence drew the attention of everyone in the room.  She moved towards Scott and Johnny.  “What…?”

Scott shook his head, silencing her.  “We don’t know.”

Thompkins fidgeted with the brim of his hat, twirling it in his hands while mustering up the courage to speak.  He drew in a slow, deep breath, his mind racing to find the right words.  Finally, he spoke up, his voice tinged with uncertainty, “It’s a long story.”  

“I’ve got time.”

“Mind if I sit?”

Murdoch nodded towards one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Thompkins lowered himself onto the seat and placed his hat on his knee.  Slowly, he raised his head and looked at the imposing figure of the man towering over him. 

“We were about a day out, near a river.  I couldn’t tell you which one.  Somehow, Barker got free of his handcuffs.  The next thing I knew, he had a gun pointed at me.”

Murdoch leaned back to sit on the edge of his desk.  “Go on.”

“We fought…he… he knocked me out.  When I came to, he was crossing the river.  I…” Thompkins looked at Johnny.  “I couldn’t let him get away.  I grabbed my rifle and fired.  I know I hit him at least once, maybe twice.  He fell into the river.  The last time I saw him, the current was taking him away.”

“No!” Teresa choked out.  The pale-faced girl swayed and had to cover her mouth before staggering backward into a chair.

Surprised, Scott moved to Teresa’s side and put an arm around her shoulders.  “Are you alright?”

Teresa took a breath, composing herself, and gave him a slight nod.

Johnny took a step forward, and with a balled fist, he slammed his leg.  “Was he dead!?”  

Thompkins dipped his head, unable to keep eye contact.

Murdoch sprang to his feet.  “Answer him, damn it.”

“Yeah, he was dead,” Thompkins snapped as his head came up, and his eyes narrowed on Johnny.  “There’s no way he could have survived the bullets or the river.” 

“You’re sure?” Murdoch took a step forward. “Did you look for him?”

“I looked.  There was no sign of him.  The river took his body downstream.”

In an instant, Murdoch’s expression changed. The intense anger that had previously twisted his features disappeared, replaced by a pained and sorrowful look. It was as if an overwhelming feeling of distress and anguish had taken over him.

“How did he get out of the cuffs?” Johnny asked.

“That’s a good question?” Thompkins looked around the room.  “I thought maybe one of you could tell me.”

“You think one of us helped Joe escape?”

“I don’t know any other way he could have gotten a key, but that don’t matter now.” 

Scott felt Teresa trembling under his arm.  Looking down, he saw her reddened face and tears spilling down her cheeks.  Without a second thought, he pulled her closer.

Regaining his composure, Murdoch straightened his shoulders.  “Alright, so why are you back here?  I would have expected you to go straight to Sacramento and tell the State Marshall’s service what happened.”

“Well, I thought…” Thompkins hesitated.  “Barker’s gone.  I don’t see a reason to drag his name through the mud now.”

Murdoch raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, surprised by the statement.  “What are you saying?  You’re not going to tell them about what happened with Evans?”

“The only ones who know what happened with Evans are right here on the ranch.” Thompkins’ eyes cut to Johnny.  “I can report Evans escaped, killing Barker and Gibbs when he did, but not before Barker killed Evans.”

“So, Joe Barker goes out a hero?”

“Yes.”

“What about the bodies?”

Thompkins gave them a satisfying smile. “Joe was lost in the river.  I brought Gibbs and Evans back here, and they were buried in Green River.  End of story.”

“So, you’re proposing a complete cover-up?” Scott spoke up. 

“Why?” Johnny asked.

Thompkins looked confused.  “Why?”

Johnny snorted.  “You got it all figured out, don’t you?  Barkers gone, but you go back to Porterville, and what… Take over his job, just like that.”

“Would you rather I tell everyone the truth?  After over twenty years as a lawman, Joe Barker betrayed the badge, helped a prisoner escape, and got one of his deputies killed.  That I was taking him to Sacramento to hang?”  Thompkins took a breath.  “Joe was on his way out anyway.  I was taking his job when we got back home.  Nothing has changed there.”

“Except…,” Johnny started.

“Except, Thompkins let Barker get the best of him,” Scott released Teresa and stepped forward.  “That wouldn’t exactly instill confidence in the citizens of Porterville.  The story sounds better if Thompkins is the sole survivor.”

“That’s right,” Thompkins smiled.  “It’s up to you which story I tell.  He was your friend Murdoch.  How do you want him remembered?”

With a frown, Murdoch walked around the desk and sank into the leather chair, lost in thought.  The memories of his time as Joe’s deputy in Abilene came flooding back – the dusty streets, the endless gunfights, and the countless times Joe had saved his life.  Despite the years that had passed, the gratitude and respect he felt for his former boss and friend remained as strong as ever.  He owed Joe Barker.  He’d been willing to go to Sacramento and help him in life; now was his chance to help him in death.

“Alright.”

Stunned, Johnny’s head snapped around, and his eyes widened.

“John,” Murdoch gave his youngest a stern look.  “You disagree?”

Johnny stared at his father for a moment, then threw up his hands and turned away.  “No.  You do what you want.  I’ll go along with it.”

“Scott?”

“I’ll abide by your decision, Sir.”

Thompkins looked around the room.  “Well?”

Murdoch nodded.  “Go ahead, Thompkins.  Joe did a lot of good over the years.  I don’t want his one mistake to tarnish his memory.”

“I figured you’d see it that way.” Thompkins sprang to his feet. “I’ll head back to Green River tonight.  I’ll leave my horse at the livery and take the stage to Sacramento.  The sooner I get there, the sooner I can let the Marshal Service know…what happened.”

With a simple nod from Murdoch, the deputy briskly walked out of the door, not uttering another word.

Once he was gone, Murdoch waited until he heard his horse ride away before speaking.  “Well, that’s that, then.”

As the tension in the room grew thicker, Teresa was the first one to break the silence.  “Well,” she said, her gaze shifting from one person to another, “at least Murdoch won’t have to make the trip to Sacramento.”

“That’s true; there is that—” Murdoch sighed.  “I wish things hadn’t turned out the way they did.  I suppose Joe took the chance to escape when he got it out of desperation.”

“Johnny didn’t,” Teresa stood up.  She looked around the room, her still-wet eyes falling on Johnny.  “And do you know why?”   

Johnny smiled at her.  “Teresa, right now, I don’t know why I didn’t take the old man up on his offer to escape.  It could have been real easy.”

“Yes, it could have been,” Murdoch replied.  “But you didn’t, son.  You did the right thing.”

“Yes, he did.” Teresa stepped into the middle of the room.  “He did the right thing.” 

Teresa looked at Murdoch.  “He did it because he’s your son, Murdoch.  No matter what’s in the past, he has Lancer blood running through his veins.  Whether you admit it or not, he’s inherited your sense of right and wrong.” 

She turned to Johnny.  “You did it because you thought Murdoch would be proud of you if you stayed and faced what was to come.  Isn’t that right?”

Johnny dropped his chin, looking at the toe of his boots. 

“You don’t have to say anything to me, Johnny, but you and Murdoch need to talk.  You can’t stay angry at him for doing what he thought was right.  He was going to go to Sacramento to help his friend, something he felt he needed to do.  You can’t fault him for it.”

Teresa took a breath.  “Murdoch, do you want to know the real reason Johnny didn’t go along with Mr. Barker’s plan for him to escape?”  She saw a surprised expression on Murdoch’s face.  “Yes, I knew it was Mr. Barker who suggested it.  I overheard your conversation.”

Murdoch’s eyes met Johnny’s.  His voice was low and quiet, “Yes, I would like to know.”

Teresa said, “Johnny, do you want to tell him?”

Johnny shook his head.  “It don’t matter anymore.”

“I’d like to know the answer,” Scott urged.

Teresa smiled.  “There are two reasons.  It’s so simple: Johnny didn’t try to escape because he was innocent.  Mr. Barker took the chance because he knew he was guilty.”

“And the second?” Murdoch asked.

“Johnny did something that was totally foreign to him, something that went against every instinct he had.  He made the decision to trust someone for the first time in a long time.”

She turned to look at Johnny.  “I know you don’t trust people, and understand why.  You couldn’t afford to place your trust in anyone when you were Johnny Madrid.  But you aren’t him anymore, at least not all of you.  You’re Johnny Lancer, and Johnny Lancer chose to place his trust in his father, hoping his father would make things right, and he did.”

It was Scott’s turn to smile.  “She’s right, Johnny.  Murdoch did make it right.  He didn’t give up on you.  He went after Evans himself.”

Murdoch stood and walked around the desk, stopping when he was in front of Johnny.  “Scott’s right, son.  I wasn’t going to let you go without a fight, and I was proud of you for not taking off when you had the chance.”

“I thought about it, but then… Well, I thought about how much it must have cost you to make the offer.”

Murdoch tenderly placed his hand on the back of Johnny’s neck and applied gentle pressure.  His eyes filled with genuine emotion.  “Not as much as it would have cost me if I’d have lost you again.   What you don’t know is that there was no way I was going to let you go to Sacramento, even if we hadn’t found Evans.”

Johnny gave Murdoch a faint smile.  “Yeah, and how were you going to stop Thompkins?”

“With whatever it took.”

Johnny’s eyes cut to a smiling Scott.  “Whatever it took.” Hadn’t Scott said the same thing? Yeah, actions did speak louder than words.

Teresa and Scott watched the heartfelt moment in silence.

“Now,” Teresa wiped her eyes and nose, then placed her hands on her hips. “If you two are finished fighting, I want my family back.  You’re all I’ve got, and I don’t want you fighting over something that neither of you can change.”  

Scott chuckled.  “I agree with that.   What’s important is what’s here and now.” 

Murdoch laughed.  “Where have I heard that before?”

Johnny nodded. “I suppose it’s over.  Look, Murdoch, I’m sorry about Barker.  I know he was your friend.  I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

“As Teresa said, it is for the best.  Joe was a proud man once, with a proud reputation.  I’m surprised you didn’t run into him at some time along the border.”

Johnny shook his head.  “What I did wasn’t against the law.”

“I…” Murdoch caught himself and smiled.  “I know it wasn’t.  It’s just that I think if you knew the man I once knew, you would have liked him.”

“Maybe… maybe not, but it don’t matter.  We never crossed paths.”

“Do you believe Thompkins will keep his word when he gets to Sacramento?” Scott asked.

Johnny laughed, “Hell, yeah.  The way he’s got it figured, he’ll come out of this smelling like a rose, and no one to say otherwise.”

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m hungry.  I wonder if Maria would mind serving dinner a little early tonight?  What do you say, John?  Are you hungry?”

Johnny smiled. “I could eat.”

Scott laughed, “If anyone is interested, so could I.”

“I’ll check with Maria.  You three get cleaned up.” Teresa looked at Scott and Johnny.  “Especially you two.”

---

Murdoch strolled across the yard to the corral.  The sound of men lining up along the fence and cheering let him know Johnny was still breaking horses. 

The trip to the cattle auction was planned for the next day.  He and his sons were riding to Oakdale, where he planned to catch a stage to the auction.  He chuckled to himself at the thought of leaving the two boys to their own devices while he was gone and wondered what kind of trouble they would get into.   

It had been a week since Thompkins rode away from Lancer.  Murdoch knew that he must have notified the authorities in Sacramento of Joe’s death by now.   Things between Johnny and himself had smoothed out since that day in the Great Room when Teresa’s outburst had brought them back together.

 Teresa hadn’t been quite the same since hearing of Joe’s death, and Murdoch wondered why she had taken it so hard.  She hadn’t cared for Joe any more than Johnny had.

Stopping next to Scott at the corral fence, Murdoch leaned against the top rail.  Johnny was on top of a horse that was bucking for all he was worth while his son hung on for dear life.  “How’s it going?”

Scott took his eyes off the horse and rider long enough to answer, “This is the last one.  Johnny’s broken two others today, but I believe he’s met his match with this one.”

As if hearing Scott’s words, Johnny suddenly flew through the air, tucking and rolling, and came to rest against the corral fence at their feet.

As the dust settled around him, Johnny looked up to see both his father and brother staring down at him.   “Hello.”

“Hello, yourself,” Murdoch replied.  “Are you alright?”

Johnny shook his head, dust and dirt flying in all directions.  “Yeah, just fine.”

“Don’t you think maybe this one can wait until we get back?  If you break a leg today, you won’t be able to go with us to Oakdale.”

Johnny looked at the horse, still bucking in the center of the corral, and then up at Murdoch.  “You might be right there.”   Stiffly, he pulled himself up and leaned against the fence.  “Walt put him back with the others.  I’m through for the day.”

“Sure thing, Johnny.”  Walt eased himself closer to the horse.  “Give me a hand, Frank.  I’ll hold his head.  Get the saddle off.”

Once the saddle was removed both men gingerly stepped aside, giving the animal plenty of room, as someone opened the corral gate.   The horse let out a whinny of excitement, and without any hesitation, it bolted out of the gate and into the fenced-in pasture next to the corral.

“Come on, son,” Murdoch helped Johnny as he came over the fence.  “Let’s get you cleaned up.  You’re taking the rest of the day off.”

“I like the sound of that,” Johnny smiled.

The sound of a buckboard drew their attention.  “That will be Pedro,” Murdoch announced.  “I asked him to pick up the mail.  I’m anxious to see if there’s anything in the Sacramento Bee about Joe.”

Johnny took a deep breath and sighed.  They hadn’t talked about Barker since that day Thompkins told them about his death.   Without a word, he followed Murdoch to the front of the house.

“Pedro, did you get the mail?”

Pedro held out a bundle with a newspaper visible.  “Sir, Patron.”

“Thank you.” Murdoch took the mail.  Turning on his heels, he walked through the open French doors and into the Great Room.  He placed the mail on the desk and unrolled the newspaper as he sat down.    

In a matter of minutes, he found what he was searching for.  It was a short article on the front page, nestled between the article concerning the appointment of U.S. Marshal Morris, who had been tasked with monitoring the discovery of silver in Alameda County, and a piece about Washington’s petition to impeach Sacramento Judge Stephen J. Fields on allegations of misconduct and misbehavior.

.

Porterville Town Marshal Dead

On Monday, June 13, 1870, Porterville Marshal Joseph Neill Barker lost his life in the line of duty.  He had been a lawman for more than twenty years, and his untimely death was a great loss to the community.

The incident took place when Marshal Barker was escorting the alleged murderer and stage robber Al Evans to Sacramento for trial, accompanied by Deputy Marshal James Thompkins and William Gibbs.

While en route, they reached Green River, where Evans made a desperate attempt to escape.  In the chaos that followed, Evans fatally shot Deputy Gibbs.  However, before he could make an escape, Marshal Barker managed to take down Evans.  Unfortunately, in the process, Marshal Barker also lost his life.  It was a tragic event that left the law enforcement community and the public in shock and grief.

Deputy Thompkins will be returning to Porterville to fill Marshal Barker’s position.

.

“Is it in there?”

Murdoch looked up to see Johnny standing in front of his desk.   “Yes.  It isn’t much, but at least Thompkins kept his word.  Joe’s legacy is intact.”

“I’m glad.”

Murdoch raised an eyebrow.

“Surprised?”

“I am.  Why the change of heart?”

“A man can change his mind, can’t he?”

“A man can, but he usually has a reason.”

Johnny sighed and shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I guess I can understand why Barker did what he did.  All those people he helped and protected all those years, people he thought were friends, one day decided he was too old or too slow. 

“He had nothing to show for all he’d done—nothing except that letter you sent him.  That was his hope, his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

“Then he showed up here expecting to get a piece of the ranch and found Scott and me.  He expected to walk in here, and you would welcome him with open arms.  When that didn’t happen, he didn’t know which way to turn.  He felt betrayed and didn’t think he had any other choice.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still not happy about what he tried to do to me—to this family.  I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“But you were still angry when I offered to help him.”

“Yeah, I was.  I guess I felt some of that betrayal—” Johnny held up a hand when he saw Murdoch was going to interrupt.   “No, let me finish.  What bothered me is that Barker had changed from the man you knew, and you couldn’t see it.”

Murdoch let out a heavy sigh, his brow furrowing with regret.  “I was so happy to see him that I made the mistake of seeing him only as a friend.  I didn’t see the warning signs that were right in front of me; I didn’t see what you saw.  I trusted him and let our past cloud my vision.”

Johnny smiled, “Yeah, trust is a real tricky thing.  I guess that’s why I don’t give it easily.” 

Murdoch stood; the newspaper was forgotten.   “But you’ve given it now, to us… to me?”

“I guess I have.  There’s one thing I know for sure, and that’s you’ve never lied to me.  You had my back when I needed you.”

“And I always will.”

Johnny smiled.  “You know…I believe you.”

---

Baja California, 119 miles south of the Mexicali Border – six months later:

Those who lived in San Felipe lived a quiet life.  They were used to travelers passing through their village—some came by ship on their way to the west coast and Ensenada or north into Estado Unidos.

Daily, men from both sides of the border seeking a safe haven from the law rode through, heading deeper into the peninsula.  A few would stay long enough to enjoy the calm blue waters of the Sea of Cortez, which separated Baja from the rest of Mexico, but no one stayed long.  No one until the gringo came.

The people never ask questions of the Americano who rode into their small fishing village a few months earlier.  He stayed to himself for the most part and worked at odd jobs around town for a few pesos, enough to pay for food and drink.  Old Antonio let him sleep in the back room of the stable in exchange for him mucking out the stalls and feeding the horses.  Night after night, he could be found sitting alone at a small round table in the back of the cantina, nursing a glass of tequila.

The young, dark-eyed barmaid flipped her long hair and smiled.  She held a bottle of tequila in her right hand while her left rested on a well-rounded hip.  “Otra señor?” 

Without looking up, the bearded gringo shook his head.  “No, gracias.”

Lupi shrugged and walked back to the bar through a haze of smoke, her hips swaying to the rhythm of Spanish guitar music.  Looking over her bare shoulder, she watched the man slowly turn the almost empty glass in his hand.  It was the same every night.  He would come to the cantina, order a tequila, drink half, and spend the rest of the evening staring at the clear liquid.

Watching from across the room, Lupi wondered where the man had come from and what sorrow kept him so far from his country.  As if knowing she was watching him, the man lifted his head, and their eyes met.  For a brief moment, he smiled before lowering his head again.

Turning back to her other customers, Lupi knew she would check on him in a little while but already knew he wouldn’t take another drink.

In the dimly lit cantina, Joe Barker sat with his back to the cool adobe wall.  Since coming to San Felipe, this is where he spent his evenings, consumed with the nagging thoughts that had haunted him for months, thoughts of what he had done.

Not for the first time, he wondered if Murdo would have gone to Sacramento to speak on his behalf.  Deep down, Joe knew he would.  Murdoch Lancer always kept his word, well, except for that one time.  

Yes, Murdoch had offered a partnership, but that was last year before his sons came home.  Joe snorted— his sons.   A Boston dandy who was still learning the ways of the West and a half-Mexican pistolero who would only bring him sorrow and end up breaking his heart.

He’d had a lot of time to think about it, and there was no doubt, at least in his mind, that his downfall had come at the hands of one person: Murdoch Lancer’s youngest son.  The dark-haired, blue-eyed boy Murdo had spent so many years looking for in Mexico, and, damn it, that’s where he should have stayed.

Hell, Madrid would have been happier in Mexico.  He was never cut out for ranch life.  The boy was a gunfighter, a pistolero, not a rancher.  Joe tried to tell Murdo he would be better off without him.  He would still have one son and a big ranch, but that wasn’t enough for him.  That should have been good enough.   But no, Murdo said it wouldn’t work, not without Johnny.

He’d tried everything to persuade Murdoch, even begged, but the stubborn Scot wouldn’t listen.  What had he said, “It wouldn’t work.  Not without Johnny.”

When he looked up and saw Evans drawing a bead on his friend, Joe was conflicted.  There was still a chance he could get away with everything.  Only then did he remember the words he’d said to Evans: “Murdoch Lancer is a friend of mine.  He’ll always be a friend of mine.”

He couldn’t shoot Murdoch and wouldn’t let Evans do it.  If he had, he’d be secure now instead of sitting in a cantina in Baja.   

Joe laughed.  Yes, there was no doubt Madrid would have been happier in Mexico, but look where he is now, and look where Joe was.   He took another sip of his drink.

But he couldn’t really blame Madrid.  He had sealed his own fate when he took Evans up on his offer.  No, Johnny Mad…Lancer wasn’t to blame.

Sighing, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a worn, folded piece of paper.    He unfolded it, smoothed out the wrinkles, and read it as he’d done a hundred times over the last six months.  He didn’t recognize the handwriting, but whoever had written it had given him a second chance, and for that, he was grateful. 

---

Memories of that day by the river after he was shot were hazy, with only fragments replaying over and over.  Despite the fogginess, certain moments stood out in vivid detail.

He remembered riding away from Thompkins, and a sense of relief washed over him.  He had managed to knock Thompkins out and make his escape. 

The thought that he was in the clear was short-lived when he heard Thompkins call out, “Stop.  Barker, stop, or I’ll shoot.”

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Thompkins aiming a rifle at him.  At that moment, he wished he had killed Thompkins.

Joe heard the expected rifle shot, and at the same time, he felt a searing pain in his left side.  The pain was so intense that he almost lost his balance and fell off the horse.

He realized his fate depended on what he did next.   If he wanted to stay alive, there would be no turning back.  Kicking the horse to move faster, he was determined to get to the other side and out of range of the rifle. 

A second shot, passing between Joe’s head and that of the horse, was enough to cause the horse to panic.  The horse shied to the right, sending Joe into the swift current of the cold and murky river.  The last he remembered was being swept away, his head sinking below the surface.

As he slowly regained consciousness, he found himself half-submerged in the water.  Clawing his way up the muddy bank, he lay there, trying to breathe and fight down the pain.  As he lay there, he wondered where he was and, more importantly, where Thompkins was.

When he was able to move again, he was brought up short by the pain.  It was worse than anything he’d ever felt.  Yes, he’d been shot before, but this was different.  It was as if it was the final straw.  He’d been taking one punch after another for months…first, the town telling him he wasn’t needed any longer.  Thompkins’ continuous snide remarks, his dreams of starting over at Lancer dashed by Murdoch’s sons, and then, to top it all, he’d fallen lower than low when he agreed to help Evans. 

A sound to his right drew his attention.  Rolling onto his side, he saw his horse, only a few feet away, happily munching on grass.  He wasn’t sure how the horse found him, but there it was. 

He had no idea how long he lay there or how he’d gained enough strength to get on the horse.  The next thing he remembered was the horse standing outside a cave, almost hidden from view from the main trail.

His memory of the following days was fragmented, but he recalled gathering wood for a fire and scouring the surroundings for dry branches and twigs.  By some stroke of luck, his matches were still safely wrapped in oilskin.  It was then he tended to the deep furrow on his side, roughly an inch wide and at least eight inches long. 

Despite the pain, he stitched the wound closed with the needle and thread he kept in his saddlebags.  Even as his vision blurred and his mind clouded, he stayed conscious long enough to finish the job.

A tiny spring in the depths of the cave provided the water he needed.  For food, he survived on what Teresa had put in the saddlebags, thanking the heavens for the girl every day.

When he was able, he packed up what little he had and headed south.  It was only then that he remembered the leather pouch in his pants pocket.  Opening it, he found the crumpled note and the money still there, barely touched by the river water.

Steering clear of towns he knew had a telegraph office, it took a full week to reach San Diego.  By the time he rode into the coastal city, he was sure the full-grown beard he was sporting would hide his identity.   

As he slowly rode his horse through the streets, he stumbled upon a small, seedy hotel located on the south side of the town.  It was there he came across an old copy of the Sacramento Bee.  He was surprised to read that Porterville’s marshal was dead; he was dead.

Reading about his death left him feeling both uneasy and at ease.  Although he couldn’t comprehend why Thompkins hadn’t reported what really happened, he felt a sense of relief.  The constant fear of being trailed, the need to always watch his back, was gone.  He could breathe a little easier, knowing no one was looking for him.

He left San Diego the next day and crossed the border two hours later.  After six days of riding, he made his way into San Felipe.  The moment he saw the blue-green waters of the Gulf, he knew he wasn’t going any further.

---

“Senor.”

Joe, shaken from his musings, looked up and saw Lupi holding the bottle of tequila. 

“Mas?”

Joe shook his head.  “No mas.  Gracias.”

Lupi nodded, knowing he wouldn’t accept another drink, but she had a job to do.  She started to walk away but glanced at the paper on the table.    “A letter from your querida?”

Joe lifted his head, confused.  “What did you say?”

“The letter.  It is from a senorita?”

“What makes you think that?”

“The handwriting, it is a woman.  Is she beautiful?”

Joe stared at the note as if for the first time. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and exhaled. “Of course.”

“Que?”

Opening his eyes, Joe smiled.  “Lupi, I will have another drink tonight.  Thank you.”

Lupi returned the smile and poured him another glass of tequila.

Joe had reasoned over the note for months and somehow missed the fact that the handwriting was that of a woman.   Thinking back to that last day at Lancer, he now knew who his savior was.  It was the same person who made sure he had a clean shirt, and his saddlebags were filled with provisions. 

He reread it, this time as if it were the first, and understood the why of it.

He’d always wondered how someone had gotten a key to the handcuffs.  Now, the mystery was solved.  It had to have been the one he kept in his saddlebags.  All this time, the answer was right in front of him.

He decided it was time to return the note to the person who had given him a second chance.

Standing, Joe went to the bar and asked for a pen and ink well.  Turning the paper over, he wrote a message of thanks.  Tomorrow, he’d mail it back to Lancer.

---

Teresa’s heart was brimming with joy as she twirled around and around, her dress billowing around her like a graceful dancer. Her eyes were alight with excitement, and a radiant smile spread across her face. It was the very first time she had ever worn a dress that wasn’t homemade by Maria.

This dress was from the new dress shop in Green River and fit her like a glove. The delicate blue fabric was a perfect match for her complexion and sparkling eyes.

She stopped and rushed towards Murdoch, standing on tiptoes, planting a firm kiss on his cheek. “Thank you so much,” she exclaimed. I absolutely love it.  It makes me feel like a princess.”

He leaned down to wrap his arms around her.  “I’m glad you like it, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, I do.  It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever had.”  Looking at Scott and Johnny, she couldn’t contain her excitement.  “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Scott smiled and nodded.  “It certainly is, but not as beautiful as the young woman wearing it.”

“You look real pretty, querida,” Johnny added with a grin.

“I’m so excited about the party tonight.” 

“Well, it’s not every day you turn seventeen,” Scott said.

Turning to look at all the men in her life, Teresa put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. “I expect all of you to dance with me tonight.”   Then her eyes fell on Johnny and pointed.  “You still owe me a dance.”

When Johnny opened his mouth to say something, Murdoch cleared his throat.  Father and son had already butted heads over the subject of Johnny attending the party.   

“Don’t worry, sweetheart; you’ll get your dance with Johnny,” Murdoch said, giving Johnny one of his no-nonsense looks. “Won’t she, son?”

Johnny cut his eyes towards his father and nodded. “Sure, if you have time.  Looking like that, every boy at the party is gonna want to dance with you.”

Teresa looked at the envelopes on Murdoch’s desk.  “Did I get any more cards?”

“I believe you did.”  Murdoch walked to his desk, sifted through the stack of congratulatory notes that had arrived for Teresa’s seventeenth birthday, and handed them to her one at a time. “Here’s one from Audra Barkley.  One from Milly Freemont.  One from…” Murdoch frowned. This one doesn’t have a return address.”

Teresa reached for the envelope, but Murdoch pulled his hand back.  “What’s wrong?”

Murdoch paled, and his heart skipped a beat.  The handwriting was eerily familiar – he had seen it many times over the years, but it was impossible.  The owner of that particular handwriting was six months dead. 

“Nothing.  It’s nothing.  Teresa, why don’t you see if Maria needs any help?  You can go through these later.”

“But, Murdoch….” Seeing the look on her guardian’s face, she sighed.  “Alright.”  Turning, she walked towards the kitchen.

“Is everything alright, Sir?”

“Yes, it’s nothing. I think I’ll go upstairs and change. You two had better do the same.”  Murdoch started for the stairs with the envelope in his hand.  Looking back, he looked straight at Johnny.  “And you, young man, will be properly dressed and on time.  Understood?”

When Johnny didn’t answer, Murdoch raised an eyebrow.  “Understood?”

“Yeah…I understand.”

Scott put an arm around Johnny’s shoulders.  “Don’t worry, sir.  I’ll make sure he’s presentable.”

“And on time?”

“Yes, and on time.  I’ll even make sure he has his dancing shoes on.”

Murdoch cocked his head.

“Private joke,” Scott laughed.  “We’ll see you in a little while.”

Murdoch went straight to his room and closed the door.   Walking to the small table near the window, he sat down and stared at the handwriting again.  There was no doubt in his mind whose it was.

Debating whether to open it or not, he finally gave in to his curiosity.  He picked up a letter opener and slit the top open.

Pulling out a single piece of paper, he read the front side, recognizing Teresa’s handwriting.

‘For your own reasons, you gave Johnny the chance to escape.  For my own reasons, I am giving you the same chance. You can be in Mexico in a few days.  Don’t come back.
 Check the saddlebags.’

It all started to make sense.  He had always been curious about how Joe managed to unlock his handcuffs.  Somehow, Teresa must have gotten a key, but something else had always bothered him: Joe would have needed money … 

Murdoch closed his eyes and took a breath.  “That’s it.” As if discovering a missing piece to a puzzle, he slammed his hand down on the table.  “Damn it, that’s it.”

The day after Thompkins told them about Joe’s death, he discovered fifty dollars in small bills missing from the petty cash box. All this time, he suspected Scott or Johnny of taking the money and not recording it in the ledger.  Now, he knew it must have been Teresa.

No wonder she’d been so upset when Thompkins told them about Joe.  All this time, the poor girl blamed herself for Joe’s death. 

Murdoch shook his head.  It wasn’t her fault. It was Joe’s choice to make a run for it.  Yes, she had provided the means, but… what did Teresa say that day? “Johnny didn’t try to escape because he was innocent. Mr. Barker took the chance because he knew he was guilty.”

So, there it was.  One amazing sixteen-year-old girl had taken it upon herself to set things right.  As outspoken as Teresa was against Joe Barker, she was the last person he would have suspected of helping him.   

Not only had she helped Joe Barker escape, but in the days that followed, she helped to heal the rift between a father and son.

Since Joe died…since they thought he’d died—Murdoch corrected himself; things between Johnny and himself had gotten better. They were still butting heads… but not as often. Johnny was still slamming doors… but not as hard. He was still walking out when their arguments became too heated… but neither of them stayed mad very long. Yes, things had gotten better.

Hesitantly, Murdoch turned the page over, almost afraid of what he’d find. 

.

He let out a sigh and shook his head in disbelief.  It was true. Joe Barker was alive.  Somehow, he had survived Thompkins’s bullet and the river.

Murdoch wanted to laugh.  He said the words aloud to make them real, “Joe’s alive.” His friend was alive somewhere and trying to make a new life for himself.  Down deep, he knew he’d never see Joe again, but that didn’t matter; he was alive.

Murdoch looked out the window.  The lanterns in the courtyard were lit, and the musicians were warming up.  Teresa’s seventeenth birthday party was about to begin.

“My little girl has grown up.  You would be proud of her, Paul. I only wish you were here.”

Smiling, Murdoch imaged Paul standing next to him. “Our little girl, Murdoch.”

Murdoch stared at the piece of paper, chewing his lower lip. Now, he had to decide what to do.  Should he tell Teresa about the letter or not?  Then there was Johnny to consider.  How would he react if he knew it was Teresa who helped Joe escape?  He could only hope Johnny would respect Teresa’s decision and actions, but there was always a chance he wouldn’t.

“No. Not today,” he thought.  There was no way he was ruining Teresa’s day. “Maybe tomorrow… or…” he smiled, thinking of Johnny, “maybe never.”

Laying the paper down, he knew one thing for sure: it could wait. Right now, he wanted to go to a party and dance with the prettiest girl in the San Joaquin Valley.

End
May 2024

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