CHAPTER ONE

“Hey Johnny, it’s your turn to go first.”            

His face caked with dust, Johnny Lancer tugged his sweat-dampened hat down more snugly with a disgusted snort and checked the rope wrapped around his saddle horn. “You be sure to keep your line taut, Boston ! If he so much as touches Barranca with those horns I’ll shoot him!”

Scott Lancer’s frown was barely visible from under the layers of dirt that caked his face, too. “Don’t worry, Brother, I got him!”

“That’s what you said last time!” The younger Lancer tugged experimentally on the rope that led from his saddle horn to the bull between him and his brother. The older Lancer also had a rope from his saddle to the bull, keeping the annoyed and powerful creature suspended between them. The bull shook his head in frustration. “All he needs is a little slack, and he’s gonna be at me.”

“I know, Johnny, I know!” Scott snapped. “Barranca’s unscathed so far so don’t be so grouchy!"

 The bull had come close to injuring the shiny palomino at the last narrowing of the path. It was so much easier to ride side by side with the angry animal between them, but sometimes the trail narrowed and forced them to go in line, nose to tail. This was one of those times, and if the ropes weren’t kept taut the feisty bull would take advantage of the momentary freedom. “And you can’t shoot him. First off, Murdoch would not be very happy, and second, I’m in your line of fire!”

 The glance Johnny gave his brother in response revealed eyes sparkling with evil humor. “I know,” he admitted slowly.

 Scott tugged at his rope and made it snug, refusing to rise to the comment. “Then you’d have to explain to your father why you came back home alone.”

 “Well, that’s a good point. Maybe I’d just head to Mexico instead.” Johnny sighed then shuddered dramatically at the imagined fury of their father. Then he gave the bull an ‘I dare you’ look through narrowed eyes. “Just keep the cranky old man off my tail, all right?” he growled.

 Scott waited a beat. “Are we talking about the bull or Murdoch?”

 The brothers’ moods shifted instantly with the sound of Johnny’s laugh.

 Working smoothly together they got the little group safely through the narrow section. Since they were tossed off the train before their scheduled San Fernando stop, humor had been scarce. The range-bred bull had had enough of the boxcar and his irritation caused the group of them to be asked to leave the train miles from where they wanted to be. They had been making their way through the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains for four days now and were finally rewarded with a sweeping view of the valley below as the trail began a long, downward curve toward their destination.

 “I’ll be happy when this crabby old bull is delivered.” Johnny took a moment to swipe his gloved hand across his forehead. “It’s been a long five days.”

 “It’s only been five days? It feels like a month!” Scott shifted in his saddle, automatically using one leg to move Charlemagne aside to keep the rope taut on the bull.

 “A night in town’s soundin’ awfully good,” Johnny said with a grin. “I know a little place west of here, just an hour or so away. The beds are soft and the beer real cold.”

 “And I suppose the women are as pretty as angels.” The older Lancer liked to see the kid-like excitement his half-brother displayed more often these days. When he and Johnny first arrived at Murdoch Lancer’s ranch just over a year ago they were all somewhat guarded. With time had come trust, and with trust and a feeling of family, a glimmer of personality that Johnny had kept under wraps for most of his life. It was like the younger Lancer was finally letting the long repressed boy inside out for a romp which was usually infectious. Scott’s returning grin was tinged in the same delighted expectation.

 “Angels? I don’t think I’d call them that . . .” Dark blue eyes still reflected that evil humor as Johnny straightened to stretch his back. “Did Murdoch say we had to stay at Rivera’s ranch? We can go into town instead, right?”

 Scott barked a laugh. “When did you care about not getting in trouble?”

 “Well, mostly since he an’ I haven’t had an argument in nearly a week. I’d like to think we’re getting somewhere.”

 “Johnny, you’ve been with me on the trail for five days!”

 “Yeah, so? A week’s a week!”  He nudged the palomino into a faster walk. “Come on, Brother, let’s get this over with.”

 The testy bull resisted them all the way up the road and under the arch that announced the arrival at Rivera Ranch. Roberto Rivera, alerted to their arrival as soon as they were in sight, greeted them politely as his eyes roamed over the impressive bull. “Your father was right. He’s a handsome one, isn’t he?” Rivera turned his eyes to the boys. His inspection grazed over Johnny in a dismissive manner, his focus pointed on Scott.

 “He sure is, Mr. Rivera,” Scott responded, intent on keeping the bull away from his flank. “I’ve got his papers tracing his lineage back for several generations. We’re sure you’ll do as well with him as we have.” Scott handed his rope over to one of the hands that appeared at his side and pulled a large envelope from his saddle bag as the brothers dismounted. Scott didn’t see how Rivera’s eyes returned to, and rested on, his dark-haired brother, causing Johnny to clear his throat uncomfortably and drop his eyes to brush the dust from his pants.

 Relieved of the bull by the ranch hands, the brothers tied their horses to a hitching rail before following Rivera into the humble hacienda. Shouts intermingled with the bull’s bold bellows faded in the distance.

 The hacienda was modest compared to the Lancer main house, but it was clean, neat and richly appointed. Senor Rivera was obviously a successful man. It didn’t take long for Scott to close the deal and accept an invitation to lunch.

 “I will have Elena show you where to wash up. Join me in the parlor for a drink before lunch,” the hacienda patron said with a sweep of his hand.

 Scott led the way. Senor Rivera let the older brother pass and fell in next to Johnny. They were met at the end of the hall by a stout Mexican woman in servant’s dress.

 “Please follow Elena and she will show you where to clean up,” Rivera said to Scott. “Go ahead while I speak with your brother for a moment.” Scott nodded, wondering what was going on, and then followed the maid. After a few minutes, Johnny came into the spare room where Scott was washing. The younger Lancer was very subdued.

 “What was that all about?” Scott asked as he washed.

 “Nothin’,” Johnny said in a tone that meant the opposite. He was quiet as he prepared to wash.

 Scott, reading the closed face, decided to let the subject lie. “Okay, then. I’ll see you in the parlor.”

 Johnny gave him a sharp nod, his eyes on the floor. Scott paused, considering pushing the subject, but again decided against it.  He left the room and easily found the parlor. There, Senor Rivera offered a drink. By the time Johnny showed up, lunch was ready. The fair-haired brother chatted amiably through the meal as Rivera asked several questions about Lancer holdings and possible future dealings while Johnny ate quietly.

 After lunch Scott knew by this point that it was probably best to leave right away so he thanked Rivera for his hospitality and headed outside with Johnny on his heels. He politely turned down Rivera’s suggestion to stay overnight, feeling that the offer was made as a formality only. It was clear that Johnny was not welcome here. They mounted quickly and jogged away from the dwelling.

 When the ranch was out of sight behind them, Scott tilted his head in Johnny’s direction. His younger brother’s expression was hard. “Just what was all that about?” he asked casually.

 “Like I said, nothin. Let’s get to town. I hear a beer callin’ my name.”

 “Don’t tell me it’s nothing. What did Rivera say to you?”

 “Scott . . .” Johnny looked heavenward with a sigh.

 “It was obvious he didn’t like you. What did he say?”

 “It doesn’t matter. Can we drop it, please?”

 Scott pushed Charlie closer to the palomino. “I won’t drop it. Tell me.”

 Johnny stared straight ahead for a moment, then said tightly, “Rivera said he knew who I was, and I was allowed in his house only because of his friendship with Murdoch. Then he said he expected me to behave.”

 “’Behave’? Are you serious?”

 “Very. This ain’t northern California , Scott. People know me down here.”

 “They know you personally?”

 “No – I mean most of ‘em had heard of Madrid . We’re getting’ closer to Mexico with each step, remember. And I’m tired and just want to get home. Can we drop this now?”

 “Sure, sure,” Scott agreed. He wanted to get home himself. “My own bed’s sounding better each day, too. Let’s get moving, then, shall we?” He lifted his hand and Charlie’s pace quickened.

 What ever dark thought he’d had seemed to be gone in an instant as Johnny’s indigo eyes gleamed. “Barranca’s itchin’ for a run. He’s been toleratin’ that nasty bull for five long days!” With a single nudge the powerful horse leaped away.

 Scott grinned crazily and followed suit and soon the boys were racing into town side by side.

 CHAPTER TWO

 The town of Newhall was nestled at the mouth of two canyons that ran eastward into rugged foothills. The area was thick with life and a promising gateway to the growing city of Los Angeles . The late afternoon sun made everything golden; the lack of heat in the sun’s rays promised a cool night.

 Scott and Johnny reined in their mounts well outside of town so the horses were cool and breathing evenly by the time they rode down the main street. Wagons headed out of town, their drivers’ business done for the day and on their way home to their families. A cluster of horses tied in front of a small building near the other end of the street told the boys where the other working men were ending their day.

 “There it is. Cold beer!” Johnny announced happily.

 “And a decent meal, I hope,” the older brother sighed. “I’m real tired of jerky.”

 “What’s the matter, Boston ? Didn’t we pack the right wine to have with beef?”

 Scott snorted at the teasing reference to his Eastern upbringing. They reined to a stop between the saloon and the livery, first looking at one, then the other. After a moment, Johnny leaned over and slapped Scott’s shoulder.

 “Flip ya. Loser takes the horses to the livery.” The bright smile on the dark skinned face was infectious.

 Scott grinned back, straightening slightly at the challenge. “Go,” he said with a nod of his head.

 Johnny fished out a coin from a hip pocket. “Call it,” he said as the silver flashed in an elegant arc with the waning golden light.

 “Heads.”

 Johnny’s hand easily slipped under the coin and stopped its flight. He slapped his other hand over the top and two sets of blue eyes focused on the dusty hands. Johnny slowly exposed the coin. A hearty laugh burst from his lips.

 “I knew I felt lucky!”  Scott groaned as Johnny happily vaulted from the golden horse and flipped the reins to him. “Double oats for him, brother. He deserves it after putting up with that beast. And for me, a double shot of mother’s milk while I wait for you.” Johnny winked and gave Barranca an affectionate pat on the neck.

 Scott frowned at the barely camouflaged insult but before he could protest, Johnny was bounding up the saloon stairs.

 While Scott turned wearily toward the livery, Johnny slipped in the saloon door and slowed his step to allow his eyes time to adjust to the darkness. It was an automatic action for him to sweep the room with his gaze and make mental notes on the crowd. By the time he’d ambled his way to the bar, the ex-gunslinger knew exactly where he wanted to be. He stopped at the end farthest from the poker tables with his back to the wall. Something at the tables had triggered an inner warning and he wanted time to track down the source.

 “Beer,” he said lowly to the stout bartender, “and a shot of tequila.” A quick nod, a flip of his lucky coin, and the order was filled without further conversation. The barkeep was drawn back to the opposite end of the bar where he hovered with a watchful eye on the poker players. Johnny noted that his instincts had been right - something was awry at the tables. The shotgun tucked under the bar very near the barkeep’s hands made that clear. He was glad that the attention was drawn elsewhere.

 Johnny slipped his hat backward off his head and let it hang from the stampede strings as he shot down the tequila and sipped the beer. He watched the players with apparent casual interest. His steely eyes, however, were taking in the details of each player’s face.

 Although he saw a pair of men sitting beyond the card table deep in a corner, the details of their faces were veiled by the smoky darkness of the room. Since their distance and relaxed posture didn’t mark them as an immediate threat, Johnny mentally placed them aside and concentrated on the card players nearer to him.

 ********

 The pair of men in the shadowed corner had been watching the game, too, but their focus was not so much on all the players, but specifically, where the winnings were going.

 “He’s got near two hundred dollars now,” the smaller of the two whispered in excitement, focusing on the growing pile of poker winnings at the nearby table. When he didn’t get a response from his partner, he turned to see that the larger man’s eyes were watching something else across the room. “What?” the smaller one questioned quietly.

 The larger man unconsciously stroked his lengthy moustache with the fingertips of his left hand while his right hand crept toward the gun on his hip. “Do you know who that is, Ramon?”

 Ramon had a pinched face and long teeth that gave him a ferret-like appearance. The quick movement of his head from his partner to the far end of the bar and back again only added to the illusion. “The pistolero?” Johnny’s low-slung holster wasn’t hard to miss even in the dark, smoky room.

 “Si, the pistolero.” The mustached man leaned in to his partner and lowered his voice. “Recognize him from Tecate? About four years ago?”

 Ferret Ramon’s forehead frowned in thought as he unobtrusively studied the man at the bar. After a moment, his eyes widened and he sat up straight. “Johnny Madrid!” he whispered.

 “Shhh, Ramon. I do not want him to notice us. Yet.” The mustached one turned his back to the bar and continued to stroke the whiskers thoughtfully.

 “But I heard Madrid was killed about a year ago down in Mexico ,” the ferret said lowly.

 It took a moment for the bigger man to reply.  “That’s what I heard, too. But that doesn’t seem to be true, does it? Hm. This may be very lucky for us. Let me think a minute.”

 ********

 Scott brushed the loose hay off his shirt sleeve as he walked toward the saloon. When he stopped and slapped his hat against his thigh to dislodge the major portions of dust clinging there, sudden shouting caused his blond head to jerk up.

 A woman screamed and the snap of breaking furniture erupted from the saloon, immediately followed by the cracking noise of fists hitting flesh. There was more shouting, more banging, and then a gunshot. Scott jumped and had to keep himself from racing to the source of the noise emitting from the bar where he’d left Johnny. Suddenly, several men spilled from the batwing doors onto the boardwalk as a pair of men rolled between them and then down the stairs to the street.

 “An’ stay out! Pfeiffer, you owe me for the tables!” A portly man in a barkeeper’s apron shouted from the top of the stairs with a shotgun propped firmly on his hip, pointed skyward.

 Scott was relieved to see that his brother wasn’t among the spectators laughing on the boardwalk or one of the pair crawling in the street, and then felt slightly ashamed for expecting to see the familiar dark hair in either of those places. Then again, he realized it wasn’t that long ago that his baby brother was probably a regular participant in such actions. Of course, the Eastern raised Lancer could only imagine what the gunfighter’s life had been like - Johnny wasn’t apt to tell the family anything about it.

 When the shouting and laughter faded away and the last spectator disappeared back inside, Scott mounted the steps to the saloon. He’d just landed a foot onto the boardwalk when Johnny stepped through the swinging doors. If Scott hadn’t been looking directly at the doors when his brother stepped through them, he would have missed the dark expression Johnny immediately wiped from his face upon seeing his older brother.

 “What’s wrong?” Scott asked instantly. Johnny grinned crookedly but humor did not reflect in his eyes. Scott could tell that he was about to get yet another brush-off.

 “Look, the beer’s not as cold as I remember.” The way the younger Lancer dropped his head and fidgeted with his belt buckle told the older one that he wasn’t hearing the full truth. “Let’s see what the hotel has and maybe get a steak to go with it. I’m starvin’.”

“No, Johnny, what . . .”

Johnny dismissed the protest by starting to move down the stairs past Scott.

“Hey!” Scott cut to his right and stopped his brother’s retreat. “What happened in there? You weren’t involved with that . . .” he waved his hand at the street where the fighting pair had wound up.

“I can have a drink in a saloon without getting into a fight, Scott.” Johnny’s voice was low with an edge of angry hurt.

“I know, I know.” Scott put up his hands in an ‘I surrender’ motion and decided to change tactics. “But I am thirsty and this is the closest place at the moment!”

Johnny glanced back over his shoulder at the saloon and bit his lower lip in thought. “Then go have a beer, brother. I’ll get us a room for the night.” He clapped Scott’s shoulder. “Meet me for dinner in about a half hour?”

Perplexed, Scott nodded dumbly and Johnny walked briskly up the street toward the hotel. The fair haired brother wondered if he would ever be able to fully understand Johnny Lancer; just when he thought the man was over his past and doing fine, some incident would glaringly suggest the opposite.

“I’d love to peek into his head sometime,” Scott grumbled as he entered the saloon.

********

When the fight had broken out at the poker tables, Johnny wasn’t surprised in the least. His position at the other end of the bar was safe haven from the whole affair and he mentally tried to pick who the winner would be. As soon as the barkeep had reached for the shotgun under the bar, Johnny knew who would end up on top.

When the crowd dove to the floor in response to the shot in the ceiling, Johnny couldn’t stifle his short laugh. Leaning on the bar, unmoved by the explosion, he’d looked around in amusement and was completely shocked to see a familiar face tucked in the far, dark corner, cowering from the flying bits of ceiling. Johnny hid his surprise automatically as his mind raced. Had the man seen him? Could he take the chance?

Suddenly, the place didn’t seem as inviting anymore. Unrushed, but with his hat back on his head and pulled low over his eyes, Johnny finished his drink and left the bar as the dust settled.

“'Why do I stumble across dirty reminders every time I turn around?” Johnny thought as he walked down the street. Wearily, he wiped the dust from his eyes as he entered the hotel, regretting his shortness to his brother. “First, Rivera judges me and now an old acquaintance appears in the dark. The closer I get to Mexico , the more Johnny Madrid comes alive.”

He sighed and then glanced down at the name he’d automatically signed on the hotel register - ‘Johnny Lancer.’ That made him smile; at least he knew who he was. And tomorrow they could leave this all behind and get back to his new life.

CHAPTER THREE

Scott entered their hotel room a little later to find Johnny washed up and in cleaner clothes. He tossed his hat on the bed and started to roll up his sleeves to take his turn at the wash basin.

“You could have sprung for two rooms,” he complained. “That bed doesn’t look big enough.”

Johnny brushed his hat with a flick of his hand and looked at his brother in a sly sideways glance. “Yeah, well, that’s all they had.” Blue eyes sparked again. “We can always flip to see which of us can sleep on the floor.”

Scott raised an eyebrow and hooked a towel around his neck. “Deal. This time I toss the coin.”

“Fine.” Johnny settled the hat on his head as Scott pulled out a coin. With a toss, the silver disc flashed and arced in the air. “Tails!”

They leaned in as one to look at the coin, and Scott groaned. Johnny slapped his brother’s back playfully, a cocky grin on his lips as he moved to the door. “Looks like I’m on a roll, brother! Tell ya what, I’ll pick up dinner.”

“Fine.” Scott tugged his shirt from his pants in disgust.

“I’m gonna wire Murdoch and let him know we’re runnin’ late, then I’ll meet ya in the dining room.”

The elder brother poured the water from the pitcher in to the wash basin. “Are you going to tell him about the damage that bull did to the railroad car?”

“Not on your life,” Johnny laughed as he shook his head and pulled open the door. “We’ll save that little surprise for when we get home. Maybe we should flip to see who tells him.” Scott’s hat winged off the door as Johnny made a quick exit.

His spirits raised, Johnny hopped happily down the stairs to the hotel lobby and got the location of the wire office. He hurried outside, knowing he didn’t have much time until the office closed, but was careful enough to check the street first. Relieved, he didn’t see anyone he recognized and made his way to the telegraph. Johnny arrived as the clerk was preparing to lock the door and was able to charm his way in, where he got off the wire in short time.

The clerk was right on Johnny’s heels as he left the wire office. He bid the young clerk good night then Johnny turned on his heel and started back to the hotel.

Darkness was just starting to fall and the nooks and alleys of the main street were draped in shadow. Out of habit, Johnny walked on the outer edge of the boardwalk and eyed each building corner before he passed. He was almost to the hotel when he heard a voice that made a chill run up his spine.

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