Two Lives by Silvia

 Two Lives by Silvia

 

 

 

*

 

Chapter One

 

 

 

Murdoch Lancer looked from one son to the other and sighed. It was Saturday night, and the Lancers were sitting in silence in the hacienda’s great room.

 

Scott was in an armchair to his right, his legs stretched out in front of him, pretending to read a book.  Johnny was sitting on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, watching the dancing flames.    

 

The sound of laughing and whooping men filtered into the room.The ranch hands were riding into town without his sons, which only confirmed Murdoch’s suspicions that what had happened the day before in Green River was keeping the boys from leaving the ranch tonight.  

 

He knew now that the problem was worse than he had thought after a tormented Johnny had, surprisingly, asked him for advice on how to deal with the situation.

 

It was supposed to be a simple trip to town. He’d sent the brothers to Green River to get six rolls of barbed wire. They were also to collect the mail and buy some things for the cook, Maria, and some fabric that their newly acquired sister, Theresa, had ordered at the fashion store.  He knew that they would most probably end up in the saloon, but that was alright.   They deserved some time to relax together.

 

It wasn’t unusual for him to send the boys to town together when possible. During the week, they worked on different parts of the ranch. The boys’ different origins forced Murdoch to keep them separated during the working days. 

 

Scott, only two months after arriving at the ranch from Boston, was still uncomfortable managing a team on his own, sure not because he was unable to command men, having been a lieutenant in the Civil War, but just because he lacked fieldwork experience and therefore joined Cipriano to learn the various working techniques. 

 

Johnny, on the other hand, despite having had to stay in bed and then rest for some time after the wound received during the battle against the land pirates of Pardee, had proved to be very experienced and capable of handling any activity on the range. 

 

Despite Murdoch’s concerns, Johnny also took charge of a crew and commanded them expertly. 

 

Cipriano told the patron that he wasn’t sure if men trusted Johnny once they realized he was good at doing the job or if they were out of fear of knowing his past as a pistolero.  In any case, the work of the hands entrusted to him was always well done.

 

The thought of what could have been sent a shiver up his spine.  Again, glancing at his sons, Murdoch wondered what they were thinking.

 

*

 

 

Scott looked at Johnny’s back and felt a wave of fury sweep over him.  How could Johnny not let him know what was going on and ask for help?  Did he still think of him as a tin soldier? A dandy from the East?

 

After putting his life on the line to save his hotheaded brother during Pardee’s attack, Scott thought he’d earned some consideration, but did Johnny still have doubts about his abilities?But top, in all of Scott’s thoughts, there was a more important question: Could he accept the gunfighter in his own life?   Did his brother have a soul, or was what he did indifferent to him? If this were the case, there would have been no chance between them.

 

Johnny, on the other hand, was confused.  The young man who had called him out was a budding gunfighter trying to make a reputation for himself.  He was looking for another gunfighter, no matter who, only to get another notch on his gun to show to the next prey.

 

So, why was Scott mad? Was it because he hadn’t asked for help?Or was it that Scott couldn’t accept his kind of life? Did he just consider him a cold-blooded killer with whom it was not possible to have ties?

 

After all, he had tried not to involve his brother in an armed dispute that was his to settle.  No one but himself was to be hurt, and he tried every possible way not to involve Scott. Why couldn’t his brother understand this?

 

Madrid has always sorted things out personally and without anyone’s help. Period. Now, this newly met brother wants to meddle in things he is unable to understand.

 

******

 

The sound of the grandfather clock striking nine interrupted Scott’s somber reverie, flooding his mind with memories of the previous day.

 

The trip to Green River was pleasant.  Johnny and he used those town trips to talk, but until now, they had rarely, if ever, managed to talk about anything other than ranch-related matters.

 

Scott had noticed on their previous trips that Johnny approaching the town would become wary and concentrate on the surroundings.  He would slow the horse’s pace, put his right hand close to the butt of the gun, and the chatter would stop.

 

This morning was no different. After leaving the wagon in front of the emporium and placing their order, they set off in opposite directions to complete all Murdoch’s errands.

 

They agreed to meet later at the saloon for a beer.  It was their way of killing time before being able to load the wagon and head for home. 

 

Johnny arrived first and took his place, as usual, at a corner table with his back to the wall.

A little later, he watched his brother arrive, retrieve two beers from Harry, the bartender, and join him, all smiles.

 

After enjoying the first cold beer in relaxed silence, they resumed telling tales of their adventures on the range and exchanging views on the cowboys and vaqueros they were slowly beginning to know. 

 

Topics about Murdoch and the future at the ranch were, by tacit agreement, banished from saloon talk.

 

It wasn’t long before the saloon door opened, and two men entered. Eddie Slaughter was the older of the two. The other, Andy, was probably around Johnny’s age. Andy remained in the shadow of his friend.  They both wore their belts low on their hips.

 

Scott noticed the two men were leaning on the counter with an arrogant air.

 

After drinking a couple of shots, they began the study of the few patrons in the hall.

 

Their gazes stopped on the Lancer’s boys before exchanging a nod. 

 

Johnny put his right hand under the table just before the bigger and older of the two men approached their table. 

 

The stranger seemed looking for trouble, so Scott, to defuse whatever was in the man’s mind, politely asked, “Good morning, do you need anything?”

 

“Not from you, from him!” was the blunt reply. 

 

“Yes? What can I do for you, Mister?” Johnny asked in a low, smooth voice.  He knew very well what the man wanted. 

 

“I saw you before, in the street. I noticed your hardware, and I thought you were a gunfighter. Are you?” Eddy asked with a slimy laugh.

 

“Not your business, I think,” answered Johnny coldly. 

 

“Whether you really are or you’re wearing that gun belt like that just to show off, I’m calling you out.” 

 

“Look,” Johnny said calmly, “shouldn’t you make sure you know who you’re going to dance with?”

 

“I know who you are. A rich rancher’s son who wants to make people believe he is an armed hawk… Prove it! Come out! Or are you too cowardly to fight? You should have thought about the consequences of wearing your gun belt so low sooner, do you know?” The man imparted his life’s lesson, looking at his friend Andy grinning and winking at the audience of customers

 

“Remember those words while you are about to die!” smiled Johnny, answering the gunfighter in front of him, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

 

Scott couldn’t understand the dialogue and was confused, at least.  Was this man really challenging his brother to a duel for no reason at all?   And did his brother really want to accept without trying to back out?

 

He noticed the silence felt in the saloon and began to worry about what was going on. 

 

Scott looked to his brother, who was remote and no longer the smiling boy he had been moments before. 

 

His eyes were now empty and cold, the blue darker and deeper.  He didn’t seem to be bothered by the situation.  If anything, he looked bored.

 

Gone was the cowboy brother, and at his place, he could face the professional gunfighter, whom he had heard so much about in the chatter of the ranch hand but had never really thought about in relation to his brother. 

 

“Why? If you don’t notice, I am drinking with my friend here, and I don’t mind being bothered.” Scott heard Johnny’s calm voice. 

 

“Better that you come out, or you prefer to fight here with all those people? One way or the other, you’re gonna dance.” 

 

“Mister, If you are looking for a notch on your gun belt, it is better if you look in another place.” Johnny tried again, without much conviction, to plant the seed of doubt in the rotten head of the guy in front of him. 

 

“I don’t have time for a speech. Come out now!” 

 

The announcement was said loud enough to reach all ears and to be sure that the boy seated at the table couldn’t refuse without losing his face in front of all the patrons in the saloon.  All eyes were now on the portly stranger, and the one they knew well was the famous or infamous gunfighter Johnny Madrid, depending on their point of view. 

 

Scott raised his eyes, first to the man and then to the room, which had meanwhile fallen silent.

 

The realization that no one was trying to do something to defuse the deadly situation left him with a sour taste in his mouth and a choking sensation that wouldn’t let him say anything, even knowing what to say, which he didn’t.

 

Johnny snorted, then stood and said to his brother: “Don’t move from here.” 

 

Passing through the hall, he stopped for a moment near Harry and said, “Make sure my brother don’t come outside.”

 

Harry looked between Johnny and Scott before answering, “Sure thing, Johnny.”

 

Johnny waited for Slaughter to go out on the street and then followed with a slow pace. 

 

Scott saw Johnny check both sides of the street, holding the half-open batwing door with both hands. 

 

Then he heard the creaking and slamming of doors, followed by the calm gait of footsteps on the walkway’s beams accompanied by the rhythmic clinking of spurs. 

 

Not for the first time, Scott noticed that Johnny could regulate the sound emitted by his spurs. Sometimes, it was silent, and other times, like today, they sang a kind of music. How Johnny was able to do that was a mystery—one of many mysteries that permeated the Madrid person.

 

The instant Johnny’s feet hit the ground, all noises stopped. The silence was unreal. All the good citizens of Green River found shelter or watched from the window, everybody holding their breath.

 

They wanted to avoid any strayed bullets, but they also longed to see which of the two challengers would fall into the dust.

 

Johnny noticed that the gunfighter had positioned himself, as expected, in favor of the sun, but at this hour, close to noon.  Fortunately, it was not a predominant factor in the fight. 

...