Archive of Our Own

Encounter

“Well Raven, the next three hours are gonna feel like forever, but we’ve been on Lancer land for a bit and we’re gonna push to make it home before Christmas Day. Though I gotta say, I just don’t cotton to all the fuss over one day outta all the other days on a calendar.”

The horse nodded her head in response shaking the flakes of snow from her dark mane. Johnny leaned forward to brush more from her shoulders before glancing skyward and shook his head at the lost cause.

The incessant drizzle that had begun the evening before silently transformed into white flakes shortly after dawn, dashing any hopes Johnny had of reaching the hacienda by midday. Staring at the broken bridle as he saddled Raven for the final leg home left him doubting that they would make it before dark. She accepted the roughly made head gear he pieced together with the rope he carried and had followed knee commands as they picked their way along the sodden ground. He figured she wanted to be home as much as he did.

“Murdoch…you remember Murdoch,” he chatted while lowering his shoulders into his heavy coat so that the brim of his hat brushed against the raised collar in the back, “he was with me when we brought you to the corral that day. I know you were scared an’ probably a little bit mad we took you away from the rest of the herd, but I bet you didn’t get good rub downs an’ fresh carrots when you were running loose up at Black Mesa. And you sure did take to herding those stupid cows in justa few weeks a’trainin’.

“It’s been hard for me, too, ya know, changing my ways of runnin’ free with no one to answer to but myself. Murdoch an’ me sure have had our run-ins over the last eight months since I been here, an’ he’s gonna raise the roof that I’m later getting back than he wanted, but I think he’s gonna be pleased when I show him this contract.

“I hope he is.” Johnny lowered his voice even speaking to his horse. Letting his worries slip through to anyone wasn’t good practice for a gunhawk. Even one trying to get out of the game.

Johnny’s story drifted with the snow as the pair plodded south, Raven’s steps cautious in the slowly disappearing grass as Johnny recounted the last week to his horse.

“You remember me tellin’ ya we thought Scott was actin’ all tuckered out as an excuse to stop Teresa from puttin’ together a wingding for his birthday—that girl sure likes to dress up a day with a party—but turns out he was just sick….”

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“No, he cannot leave tomorrow!” Dr. Sam Jenkins slammed his half-full glass of brandy on the side table. “Or the day after! That boy will be in bed with teas to bring down his fever and poultices on his chest to help him breathe. Why do I bother coming to this ranch if you never follow my orders!”

“The timing couldn’t have come at a worse time,” Murdoch groused, emptying his own glass and getting a refill. “The Cattle Grower’s Association received a letter from a land realtor out of Stockton. He has a new buyer looking to get into cattle ranching and wants to negotiate buying a small start-up herd.  Scott planned to ride up and make an offer. Lancer won’t be the only operation hoping to net a little profit during our off season. Selling off stock going into the winter can save on expenses.”

“Your cost-loss predictions don’t concern me,” the doctor countered. “The health of my patient and your son, I might add, do. And if this trip north is so important, you have another son who can go.”

Curious to see his father’s reaction to Sam’s suggestion, Johnny lifted his head where he sat cross-legged in front of the large fireplace watching the flames with fascination when the pinecones Teresa had coated in colored wax were tossed in,. Since he and Scott had come to Lancer in the spring, their father had turned to Scott frequently when engaged in business discussions. Johnny understood his brother’s Boston background being raised in the entrepreneurial world with his wealthy grandfather and Harvard education positioned him well to understand the nuances of deal-making. He only wished his father would think of him as more than a man with a fast gun. He absently tossed a red colored cone back and forth as he listened.

“Johnny? Oh, I’m not sure Johnny wants to take on that job. Do you, son?” His father made an awkward glance in his direction, clearly hoping the conversation went the way Murdoch intended.

“Won’t be the first time I’ve negotiated a deal, Murdoch.” Johnny spun on his posterior to face the men, Sam on the couch, his father in a wingback chair opposite. Murdoch raised a non-committal eyebrow forcing Johnny to go on. “I ramrodded for years. Granted, that was running men, not livestock, but I made sure payment was fair and benefitted both sides.”

“Range wars,” the older man huffed.

“Yeah, there were those, but I ran protection on some cattle drives an’ several security details for banks an’ the stagelines, too. I know how to talk to a man wantin’ something I…we… have to give.”

“Sam, if you have your way, it would be next week after Christmas before Scott can go.” Avoiding the doctor’s disgruntled stare, Murdoch looked down at the drink in his hand, swirling the contents and speaking his thoughts out loud. “I know nothing about this new rancher. Not even a name. Only the location and name of the spread. If we delay, the man may make his choice before we get a bid in.”

“We can’t let that happen.” Johnny turned back to the fire and tossed in the cone causing sparks of bright red to dance with pops and whistles as the cone ignited. “I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

Murdoch hem and hawed while Doc Jenkins hid a smile behind his glass. Johnny leaned back on his elbows countering every argument, refusing to be dissuaded. He had a chance to prove himself. He latched on to it like a child grabbing sweets flung from a broken piñata during Las Posadas.  

The next morning journey was delayed long enough for Johnny to taunt Scott with the coffee in his hand while his brother choked down willow bark tea for his birthday. Another hitch arose when Johnny discovered a swollen and hot fetlock as he prepared Barranca for the trip. Jelly assured him that his horse would be treated, and Teresa promised to give him a mash of peels and cores when the apple pies were being prepared for Christmas Day. That came with Johnny’s promise he would be home in plenty of time to spend time with the family for his birthday dinner and their first Christmas holiday together.

Johnny chose the good natured but durable Raven as his mount and rode away to the sound of Barranca’s disgruntled whinnies.

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“I bet Barranca sure is happy to be back in that warm barn with fresh hay an’ sweet feed instead of trudging through this mess.” Raven answered with a snort, sending a fog billowing up from her nose to her ears. “I’ll make sure I find you something special when we get home this evening, no matter how late.” The mare nodded her approval as Johnny continued his story to keep him focused on staying alert as the cold settled around them.

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Johnny kept Raven at a hard pace when they left Lancer, his father’s admonition to keep a level head and avoid being fooled into a risky agreement threatening to spark an argument as he mounted up. Rather than give in to his first thought, Johnny tipped the edge of his hat and headed north before more of the morning slipped away. They would be camping out for at least one night and more likely two since Johnny did not know the horse well enough to challenge her stamina without doing harm.

As the hands of his pocket watch rolled over into midnight on the first day of winter, Johnny and Raven rode down the middle of main street—the only street— of a little town the road sign called Delhi. Johnny was right proud of how she kept her head up and lifted her feet like a dancer despite the exhaustion that had crept into every muscle for the both of them, even though being a Wednesday night, there were only a few drunks on the street to notice. He didn’t feel the need to ride in as Madrid as he once did but still felt that Johnny Lancer needed to make a statement when he was coming to call for ranch business.

“I’m looking for a place called the Golden T Ranch,” Johnny tossed a quarter on the bar when the bartender delivered his beer. The man gave him a look as he began wiping the rough surface of the wood with a dirty rag. “New place. I’m not sure of what it was called before.”

“Oh?” the man kept rubbing at the same stain in the wood.

Johnny swallowed down his temper along with some of his beer. He never knew exactly what got someone to react to him the way they did. Being a stranger in town, no one here may have known who he was, but the color of his skin offset by the blue of his eyes and the way his gun rested low on his hip told a lot about what he was. And just maybe this time, the caution was based on neither his blended heritage nor the mark of a gunfighter but simply that he was a stranger who rode into town after midnight.

“I have business with the new owner. Ranchin’ business. Heard the man is lookin’ to buy some cattle an’ I’m a man lookin’ to sell him some.”

“Oh.”

Dropping his eyes to watch the wrinkled and blue lined hand continue its circular motion over the same mark in the wood, Johnny shoved away the Madrid mask that habitually slid into place. Holding his eyes shut for a moment, he pictured what Murdoch would want, allowing a half-smile to tug upwards and kept his tone light.

“Yep. Rode in from Morro Coya. Thought to bring some stock your way. Best steak ya ever bit into.”

“That so.”

“Stake my next meal on it. Specially if I can get something tonight.”

The bartender chuckled and his hand stilled. “Well, ya sure ain’t the onlyest one been comin’ around. I ain’t met tha new fella myself but ya can find tha old Sutton place ‘bout twelve miles north’a town.”  

By the end of the night, the barkeep was more than generous, finding Johnny a sandwich to eat and word that the livery was generally left open since they didn’t have many people passing through, allowing him to get Raven stabled and fed. In the morning, the man at the livery provided better directions and Johnny rode straight to the place arriving just before noon.

He came in from the from the south to the wood frame ranch house, his hat pulled low with the sun bright on a crisp day, the sky a pale blue with white wisps. A man, his face covered by the shadow of his hat, rifle across his arms, stood on the wide, wrap-around porch.

“What’s your business here?” the man called out before Johnny could greet him properly.

“Would this be the new Golden T ranch?” he asked, stopping Raven several yards away. He held the reins in his left hand, the right resting on his thigh.

“It is.”

“Heard you were lookin’ to buy some cattle to start yourself up in the ranchin’ trade.”

“I am.”

“I’m from the Lancer Ranch of Morro Coyo. I’m here to interest you in our cattle.”

“Well, about that,” the man jerked his chin toward the north. Johnny turned in the saddle resting his palm on Raven’s croup. She resettled at his touch but made no other move without his instruction. A faint outline of dust on the road drifted like smoke telling the tale of one or two riders.

“You just missed your competition. I can let you know their bid and see if you can do better than that.”

Johnny lowered his head, his wrists crossing his saddle horn. “Well, about that. How ‘bout I tell ya what Lancer cattle can do for you, make a fair offer, an’ you can tell me which one you prefer.”

The man chuckled as he rested his rifle against the wall of the house and stepped down off the porch. “I wouldn’t do business with a man who is willing to cheat his neighbor. Just a matter a time before he cheats me. Get on down. I got some coffee on the stove. Let’s talk about Lancer cattle.”

“I’m more than happy to do that.”

Johnny swung off his horse, stretching his back, his hat falling against his back. “Whoo wee that feels good. Been in the saddle since sunup.”

The man froze on the lowest step of the porch steps. “Madrid? Johnny Madrid?”

Johnny stopped, his hand instinctively slipping the leather strap from his Colt and hovered near the grip. “Once. I go by Lancer now. Johnny Lancer.”

“Johnny!” The man pushed his hat back away from his eyes as he took the final step to the ground. “Johnny, you may not remember me….”

“Tuck? Daniel Tucker?” Johnny squinted against the glare.

“One in the same. How the hell are you?” Daniel hurried across the yard, his arm extended and grabbed Johnny’s hand with an exuberant handshake.

“Tuck, you’re lookin’ a might sight better than the last time I saw ya.” Johnny matched the man’s full smile.

“Oh, Johnny the fact I’m standing here at all is down to you.”

“You still partnered up with that Stills fella?”

“No, no. We parted ways a couple of years back.”

“Glad to hear that otherwise I’d be turnin’ around an’ headed home.”

“Can’t say I blame you. Come on in and I’ll tell you about it.”

Johnny followed the man he had run into four years ago on his way from one job to another. He was passing through a mountainous area when he heard shouting, yelps, and gunfire. Leaving his horse, he climbed into the rocks and saw two men held at gunpoint by two others while a third was beating on the men demanding their hidden gold.

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“Raven, I sure thought about makin’ my way back to my horse an’ lettin’ those fools work out their own problems. ‘Cept I saw one of them outlaws drawin’ out his knife an’ knew they had more than thievery on their minds. Those miners sure weren’t gonna see another dawn.” Johnny blinked several times to clear the flakes that had drifted under his hat. Raven simply kept her head low and kept walking, although her ears rotated his way as he spoke. “I went ahead an’ made myself known an’ we had us a bit of showdown. The one with the knife didn’t go down easy an’ ended up laid out under a tarp over the back of his horse. Those other two hombres each took a bullet before figurin’ dyin’ wasn’t such a good life choice. The miners were hurt, too, so I had to ride the bunch of ‘em into the nearest town.”

Tuck’s voice rejoined the story as Johnny continued.

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“Johnny, I sure was sorry Hank Stills pulled that stunt when we got into…Riverton, was it?”

Johnny nodded his agreement as he blew on his coffee before taking a sip. “Sheriff was…Smith. Amos Smith. Turned out to be a decent lawman which ain’t always been my experience.”

“I’m just sorry I was laid out over at the doctor’s office from that bullet they put in me when we got to town. I never would have thought Hank would lie like he did saying you were one of the robbers.”

“Wasn’t the first time or the last that trouble got thrown my way for no reason good enough to warrant it. Your Mr. Stills got a notion that Johnny Madrid must be worth something to somebody and planned on claiming the reward. At least Sheriff Smith had the sense to give me my own cell while he checked things out. I had to listen to those idiots yammerin’ all night ‘bout what they were gonna do to me once they got out, but I got a decent meal for jail food an’ a blanket on the cot so a step up from a night on the hard ground.”

“Hank and I fought together in the Great Rebellion and neither of us had any real prospects back home in New York, so we went west together to find our fortune. At the time, I wrote off what he did due to his circumstances. Hank grew up dirt poor, and I knew he was desperate to get a leg up. And truth be told, we were both a little bit scared of how close we came to dying on that mountain after barely making it through that terrible war. Those men you caught were worth a little over a hundred in bounties, and I think when he saw we were riding in with someone as well-known as Johnny Madrid, he saw a way to make a quick fortune.” Tuck set a bowl with venison stew and a plate of bread in front of his guest as he settled at the table to join him.

“Your circumstances weren’t much different from his, but you told the sheriff the truth of what happened out there.” Johnny tore off a chunk of the bread with his teeth, chewing as he went on. “Not that there are any papers on me for anyone to claim, but I could have ended up doing time if you both lied about me.”

Tuck nodded his head. “I was a might feverish, and it took me some time to put together what Hank was up to. He kept telling me how you must be wanted and worth a lot more than those no-name drifters, and by turning you in, we would have enough for a new stake to make our way to something bigger. He told me that by saying you were part of that gang, the sheriff would keep you locked you up until we could claim the reward money and get out of town. Once the sheriff came to talk to me, I set him straight right off.”

“Sheriff Smith turned me loose once Stills backtracked on his statement. Helped when he found out I wasn’t worth anything to him.”

“Hmph,” Tuck looked Johnny in the face, “except for saving his life.”

“Well, you made your amends for the man even offerin’ to pay me as I was headin’ out.”

“Which you turned down. At the time, I wrote the whole mess off to Hank’s nerves and worry. Do you remember what you told me that day?”

Johnny shook his head.

“You may have forgotten but I never did. You said too many men want to judge another based on the outside. Clothes, hair, skin. They make no attempt to just sit down and get to know one another. And their actions speak louder than any words they say.”

“I remember now,” Johnny grinned. “Watch how a man moves ‘round people.”

“That’s right. You said you have to listen pass the words. Pay attention to how a body talks to people. The clerk in the mercantile. At the stable. The lady on the boardwalk. The kids shooting marbles. Even the stray dogs in the alley or his own horse. You said the way he treats others—man, woman or beast—will tell you all you need to know about the inside of a man.

“You tried to warn me about Hank, but I didn’t fully understand what you were telling me.  Instead, I might as well have patted you on the head like you were a kid half my age and sent you on your way.”

“Well, Tuck, I was about half-your age, old man.”

“What were you? No more than sixteen?” Johnny shrugged his acknowledgement. “But far more wise, Johnny. Although I’d like to think I gained some of your wisdom over the last four years since I’ve seen you. Would have saved me a lot of hard times and this scar on my back if I had listened to you.

“Wasn’t ten months later, Hank tried to swindle me out of my share of our gold and our mining claim. I may have been a bit naïve about where I put my trust, but I did know business and had an ironclad contract that man was not going to lie his way around. Instead, he thought stabbing me in the back before we could split the money and go our separate ways would get rid of his partner a different way. Thanks to you Johnny, I did listen enough, and I started keeping a derringer up my sleeve. Before he could stab me again, I put a bullet in his leg. He’s still in Yuma Prison far as I know.”

“So, you did well for yourself in the mines?

“Well enough to quit chasing schemes and settle down to my dreams. I bought this land and intend to turn it into a future for myself and a pretty little gal I met in Stockton waiting on me to ask her to marry.” Daniel placed both elbows on the table and leaned forward, green eyes dancing along with the excitement sparking across his face.

“Johnny, stay over another day so you can tell me how you went from Madrid to Lancer while we do some business.”

“Well, they’re expecting me back at Lancer.” Johnny ducked his head not wanting to admit that staying over would put him on the trail on his birthday after he had assured Teresa he would be home for a piece of the chocolate cake she was baking for him.

“I understand running a ranch is a demanding life, but you are a man I trust, and you can make sure I don’t get boondoggled by any of these shysters around here. I’ve already seen that cattlemen aren’t any better than the next when it comes to making things look like a selfless gesture while pulling aces out of their sleeves.”

“This ain’t selfless, Tuck. I aim to make a good deal for my ranch.”

“Spend the day with me, Johnny. Stay here tonight. Tell me how it’s a good deal and why these cows I’m taking off you are good for me.”

“Alright, Tuck. Another night won’t hurt me none,” Johnny agreed. The date of his birth never meant much to him anyway and he wanted to prove to Murdoch he could make a profit for Lancer.

“Wonderful! I want to show you around and I promise I will listen to what you have to say without second guessing. It’s a few days before Christmas. We’ll catch up and still get you home in plenty of time for apple pie and sugar cookies.”

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“And we might just make it, Raven,” Johnny sniffed as his nose was beginning to run and a cough was working its way into his chest. “If we carry on without makin’ camp, we can see the hacienda lights while it’s still Christmas Eve. Now, Murdoch’s already gonna be on the grouchy side since I was due back no later than yesterday, but that little town of Delhi didn’t have a telegraph an’ going to where there was one woulda cost me over half a day in the wrong direction. I’m hoping with the final price we shook hands on an’ penned in on this paper, Murdoch won’t get too awful mad when I tell him what I got in mind.” The black ears twizzled back his way.

“I got a might better price than Murdoch demanded sellin’ off a mix of fifty heifers, mature cows, some steers and a bull. I don’t think he expected me to pull it off. Yeah, yeah, that part should set with him well enough. But what I want to do next may not be so agreeable. What was it Scott said? Something about the seeds we sow decide whether we get feed or weeds when they germinate. Only my brother would say fancy words like germ-mi-nate. It’s a fancy dan’s way of sayin’ when the seeds grow. Well, with the seeds we sowed, it sure looks like we’re gonna have some good feedin’. And here I told Scott I was having trouble enough learnin’ to be a rancher an’ didn’t need to be a farmer, too.

“But ya see, now that I see what my brother meant, I come to see that I’m not done farmin’ an’ I think that’s the part that’s gonna turn Murdoch’s face a might red. Tuck’s a good man but real green about the ins an’ outs of cattle ranchin’. Gonna need him some help, an’ I wanna make sure he gets off the ground strong otherwise it could make Lancer look bad. Don’t want anybody mouthin’ off that he got a bad starter herd from us when it went down to poor management. He needs him a solid foreman an’ I think I know just the man.

“I’m gonna have Bart Balstrop help me drive those beeves back to Tuck. You know him. He signed on right after the Pardee fracas. He works hard an’ knows cattle as well as any man on the ranch. Cipriano has let him run a crew an’ he gets the job done an’ keeps the hands in line without makin’ ‘em buck. But I’ve seen an itch in his feet. He’s ready to take a step up in the world but there ain’t no place at Lancer for him to be anything more than what he is right now. If he an’ Tuck can come to terms, ol’ Bart would have a chance to prove himself as a foreman an’ Tuck would have a good man to help him settle into cattle ranchin’ with that gal he wants to marry. What do ya think?”

Raven did not have a chance to respond, if she had a mind to, but instead jerked her head and tail up, her ears flared.

“I hear it,” Johnny straightened in the saddle, his eyes scanning the area around them trying to pinpoint the direction of yips and snarls carrying over the landscape. The mix of falling snow onto not yet frozen ground caused the sounds to bounce off the hills and wild brush they were riding through.

Raven pulled her head to the left with a few side-steps toward the hacienda making clear her intentions.

“Sorry, darlin’,” Johnny pulled back to the right, “I know your inclination is to get away from that noise but you’re a workin’ cowpony on a ranch where the Patrón calls the tune. As much as we both wanna keep on headin’ home, we gotta make sure none of his…our…cattle are mixed up in that ruckus.” Raven pulled against the reins until Johnny nudged her with his spur and she reluctantly obeyed.

They traveled a quarter mile through the rolling field. Johnny saw no sign of the herd, but enough snow had fallen to cover any tracks left in the soft ground. The sounds grew louder and more intense as they moved at a canter in that direction. Cresting a hill, Raven needed little prompting to dig her feet into a sudden stop.

Johnny regretted his hunch was right seeing the body of a cow laid out on the ground. The mystery was the formation of the remainder of the animals. A pack of four wolves formed a semi-circle around a fifth positioned by bushy tree line of birch, hackberry and white alder. The pack darted in and out taking snips and bites at the lone wolf, protecting their kill the former gunfighter presumed. Wiping at his nose and coughing to clear his head, he spit out the phlegm before pulling his Winchester from the rifle scabbard affixed to his saddle.

He lifted the weapon to his shoulder as he eyed the distance. He sniffed back the congestion he felt growing in the tightness of his chest, only part of which he attributed to the building cold he was silently blaming on his brother. Johnny didn’t doubt his skill with a rifle, but the pack was too far away to guarantee a clean kill. Leaving a wounded animal behind gnawed at him and an injured wolf represented a far more detrimental threat to the herd. He checked the ammunition even knowing it was fully loaded before returning the rifle to its scabbard.

Rubbing Raven’s neck, he explained, “This looks like one of those times Murdoch always lectures me about. Being responsible. Now I can’t rightly say he’s not gonna have some words about how I went about handlin’ it seeing how he rarely agrees with my way of doin’ things, an’ I know you’d rather be movin’ toward that warm barn an’ trough full of oats, but we gotta go down there.”

As a prey animal, Raven snorted her displeasure but headed down the hill toward her feared enemies, her ears twisting at every snarl that echoed through the falling snow. Johnny retrieved the rifle as he neared the pack, better able to observe the struggle of the one against the many. He kicked Raven into a gallop as he shouted and fired the Winchester above the heads of the creatures.

All hostilities froze as still as the cold air before the attacking wolves turned and ran around the fallen cow and soon vanished over the next hill. The lone wolf remained like a statute near the trees, watching their retreat before turning a dark gray head littered with white flakes to peer at the approaching man. Hackles spiked around its head and ran the length of its back and underbelly, its tail pointed straight back and flicking like a club. Fully erect with neck arched, bared teeth snapped a warning.

“Go on! Git!” Johnny yelled, bringing on a raft of coughing as he slowed Raven to a walk and finally stopped a few yards from the carcass. His heart flaring in his chest, his face grew hot and his mouth dried as he scowled at the defiant creature, staking his own possession of the area. The wolf held its place keeping its head raised, its ears alert. Widened gray eyes stared at him, its legs stiff, claiming its ground. Johnny kept a firm hold of Raven’s jittery feet while stealing glances to examine the dead animal as the putrid odor of disease hung low in the air, stinging his nose and causing him to open his mouth to breathe.

“Damn,” Johnny spoke aloud, the air frosting in front of him. With its rear end closest to him, Johnny quickly assessed that the wolf pack had not acted as predators but scavengers in the harsh world of early winter. A large mass of a blackened sack protruded from the cow, the internal shelter of new life tugged into the outer world bringing a slow death to the mother when no one arrived to push it back inside. “Damn it,” he uttered again at the double brand visible on the cow’s hind quarters. “One of Murdoch’s new breeding stock. Lost both the cow and the calf. Damn it!”

As the man’s ire was clearly directed away from the wolf, it continued to examine the mounted man though its snout relaxed enough to hide its bared gums while retaining enough of its posture suggesting a more ambivalent tone. The demand for dominance lessened; however, it refused to submit.

“Hush, be still,” Johnny uttered to Raven who moved her feet nervously, her hooves stirring mud up to the surface of the white ground. “Murdoch paid a hefty sum to buy those breedin’ cows an’ bring in old man Crocker’s bull to sire a slew of babies on ‘em for a better strain of cattle to strengthen his herds. Oh, wait. We paid. We paid to improve our herds, Jooohhnny,” the man mimicked the way his father held out his name to express his exasperation toward his son.

“Funny how it’s the three of us being partners until he disagrees with Scott an’ me, then it’s, ‘I call the tune’. An’ you don’t have to tell him that I said so,” he told Raven with an edge creeping into his voice as his attention vacillated between the dead beast and the living one. He cleared his scratchy throat as he wiped at his nose with his shoulder, keeping the rifle pointed toward the wolf.

“He’s gonna be ornery enough since he expected us back yesterday an’ we’ll be getting back even later now. He's not gonna even hear me sayin’ we made a profit with Tuck when he finds out about his investment lying in the mud over there. Damn, I wanted to bring that man something to prove I could do more than dig post holes and shoot a gun.”

Johnny’s aggravation translated into further agitation with his horse, and she spun in a half-circle trying to escape from the smell of the disease and the determined presence of the wolf. He pulled Raven around to focus on the stationary animal. His gunfighter instincts shoved the Murdoch worries aside to face down the immediate threat his horse admonished him to remember. He drew in a long breath of the cold air chilling his insides and stilling his thoughts to nothing but the predator that was calling him out. Johnny guessed the wolf was a two- to three-year-old female given her small stature and he wondered at her determination.

As if she recognized that the man no longer appeared distracted from their stand-off, and was attending to her actions, the wolf took wary steps away from the woods toward the fallen bovine. Johnny had expected her to break into the protection of the trees when his attention was diverted. Instead, she waited until he was aware of her efforts, moving with cautious, not skittish, steps toward the carcass, her gray eyes watching him. She placed herself near the cow but made no attempt to eat, no indication warning that she was claiming the meal.

Johnny lifted the rifle to his shoulder and sighted her along the barrel. Her eyes appeared to glow in the fast-waning light as she postured herself in an alert position near the head of the cow. She considered him without fear. She was young and had some more growing to do, but she was a beautiful creature. Dark gray, almost black, made up her undercoat with lighter gray feathering out, and pale, almost white, gray stroking the tips of her fur. Flecks of blood marred the sleek lines of her face, but for all her youth, it was clear that she fought back against the pack that had surrounded her. The rifle dropped back to his leg as he sighed. He released the cough he had been holding as he studied her.

“Look. It’s not hard to figure what happened. Your mama must have thrown you out of your family with the cold settling in an’ food more hard to come by. She’s not gonna give up her dominance until one of you young’uns is strong enough to take it. That leaves you out on your own for the first time. I get it.”

From his vantage point, Johnny could see a scramble of muddled tracks discolored with red streaks in the damp ground starting to be filled in by the steadily falling snow. The wolf swiveled her head to stare toward the trees causing Johnny to glance over his shoulder to determine if any of the other wolves had crept back toward them. He neither saw nor heard anything. She turned her eyes back to focus on him but remained motionless otherwise.

Johnny resumed his chat, stroking Raven’s neck to calm her. “I was on my own when I was young, too. My Mama let her menfolk knock me around thinkin’ I was spoilin’ her style, leavin’ me to roam free as an alley cat an’ just as hungry. Hit me a time or two herself, tossin’ me out in her own way until … well, until an alpha male in your lingo took her life an’ then there wasn’t any place for me anymore.  Had to learn to fight back with whatever I could lay my hands on. Fists. Knives. Tooth. Claw.”

As he examined her, the evidence of successful strikes by the vanquished wolves were evident, although none appeared life-threatening. Made him question again why she hadn’t retreated when she was outnumbered.

“Now I admit, I didn’t run from many fights myself, but I sure was willing to take a way out over a beatin’ if the situation called for it, especially when I was being thrown to the wolves…well, ya know what I mean. What made you decide to take a stand four against one in front of these woods with plenty of brush to duck into giving you cover? Once you gave ‘em the meat, they would have let you go. No reason to go after ya once you gave up the kill.” He ducked his head as dark memories of brutal brawls for survival clawed their way out of the dusty corners that just wouldn’t keep to themselves. “But I know you sure do think on things different when your stomach is twisted in on itself ‘cause you ain’t had a bite in days.”

Her ears pointed up and turned toward his voice, the wolf completed another slow stare toward the woods before dropping to her haunches. Her steady breaths formed a fog wreath around her neck. Her gaze returned to his, waiting.

“Just what are you trying to tell me?”

Her continued calm appraisal told him that she wasn’t looking for a fight with him but the ruts in the ground told him that she gave a hellacious showing before he got there. All three heads, Johnny, Raven and the wolf jerked toward the tree line.

They were not alone.

Johnny swung his leg over the pommel smoothly sliding his rifle into the harness and pulling his Colt in a fluid motion. He was good with a rifle but faster with his six-gun and in this cold…in defiance of the cold...the familiar weapon allowed confidence to mark his every move. His fingers were numb, but he trusted his skill to fire double the shots if the wolf made a play for him once he was on the ground and still be fast enough to take on the new menace. Johnny took assured steps toward the woods as if the slick surface of the ground was a white carpet laid out just for his use. Raven hung over his shoulder refusing to be parted from him. The wolf held her place, attentive but allowing him to keep her presence in the periphery of his mindfulness. He tied Raven’s rope rein to a tree trunk knowing, unlike Barranca, the skittish young horse would bolt when he took a step into the brush. Glaring back, Johnny raised his Colt toward the predator.

“You make a move toward my horse, and I will shoot you.”

The wolf lay down, her front paws extended, black nose lifted toward the drifting flakes, stark white against the deepening gray of the sky. Raven nickered, tugging against the constraint preventing her escape, her eyes rolling apprehensively among the gray canid, the still bovine and her retreating rider while her nostrils flared with the confused jumble of odors.  

The covenant of the heavens that darkness shall follow light began as Johnny picked his way onto the netted woodland floor. Tangled brush mixed with weaving ropes of vines and fallen limbs poked stiff branches and prickled thorns against his legs. The snow had begun to paint the blacks, browns and grays a solid white even in the near absent light. His boots made crunching sounds as he broke the beginnings of ice coating the puddles beneath despite his efforts to approach silently. Scuffling noise, unmindful of its approaching adversary, guided him as whatever remained of day disappeared.

A tiny low ended his search.

Johnny’s blue eyes studied the tired brown ones set in a tiny face of white among the brambles. “Well, look at you. Here I thought you’d been lost before you ever found the world, little one, but your mama just stashed you for a bit to keep you out of trouble. And I wonder that maybe it took more than just your mama to keep you safe.”

A look back through the trees presented an odd tableau: Raven straining at the rope wanting to join him while the wolf watched, almost smug. Her gray orbs took on a shining in place of the hidden stars as the snow settled around them with a preternatural quiet. The rustle of rattling branches drew Johnny’s attention back to the calf attempting to rise as it found its full voice, a piteous cry for succor. As the creature scrambled to find its feet, the height and firmness of its hooves, the protective sheaf visible at birth fully hardened, suggested the cow had given birth at least two days previous. Johnny bowed his head thinking of the pain the cow had endured when no help came after the birth and was determined to discover which hand had been watching this area and failed to bring her relief.

Now sure that the wolf offered no threat, his gun was slipped into its holster, and Johnny bent to tug the calf from the prickly undergrowth, its complaints embellished with every pull. Raised eyebrows greeted the rear end of the calf. “Thank you, little fella. You may have salvaged Murdoch’s mad at me. He’s gonna be right pleased knowing in a couple of years you can father a herd of this bloodline he…we…spent so much money on.” He wrapped his arms around the bull calf’s legs, lifting it with his own grunt of complaint, bringing on another spat of coughing.

“Raven, we got us a tag-along,” he advised the jittery horse as he dropped the calf across the saddle. Both the horse and the calf settled quickly, Raven accepting her assigned responsibility and the baby comforted by the warmth of the other. Johnny cocked his head as he turned to consider the other youngster. The wolf swished her tail making an angel wing in the snow, showing no attempt to rise.

“They wanted this one first, didn’t they?” Johnny asked her. “His mama was already gone, and I know wolves prefer a fresh kill. Now I don’t know if you just wanted him for yourself, but you tried to tell me he was there, didn’t ya?  Everybody keeps telling me about this Christmas spirit we’re supposed to be sharing. Maybe that’s what you had on your mind? Okay,” Johnny laughed when the wolf tilted her head with a slow blink, “most likely not but you did me a good turn and I do know, a debt when it’s owed. So, we’ll share.”

Pulling his knife from his boot, he walked slowly to the back legs of the cow.

“As for you,” he pointed the knife blade at the wolf, “this is a one-time offer. Ya see, you and your future family can’t be dining on our cattle.” He plunged the knife into the cow’s stomach and ripped open a bloodless tear. “I gotta put some salve on Little Cuss over there before we make our way home. I’ll watch your back to make sure those hombres don’t come back until you can eat your fill.” The wolf titled her head in the other direction, her eyes widening as she leaned her nose toward the new smell, although held her place where she lay in the snow. “I owe you that much for what ya done. Once you finish, you head up into the mountains. There’ll be enough deer, rabbits, raccoons, and the like until you can find yourself a mate and start up your own pack.”

Johnny backstepped to Raven and dug into his saddlebag for the medicine kit he always carried. He took his time treating the open cuts on the calf’s legs and torso. A grin crept onto his face as the young wolf approached the proffered meal and tore into the meat. Full dark had descended as he finished his task and pulled the new-fangled collapsable lantern Scott had insisted he carry when on the trail from one of the bags hanging from the rear D-ring of his saddle. He positioned it over the horn before pulling his match container from the inside pocket of his jacket and scraped the head against the abrasive surface of the lantern to light the wick.

“We’re going now. You should, too. Something tells me it won’t be long before that pack comes back, an’ you need to be somewhere else.” Johnny pulled himself into the saddle nestling the bull calf across his lap. “Feliz Navidad, Señorita Lobo,” he called out, tipping his hat.

Finally given her head, Raven spurted away. Johnny took a long look over his shoulder to see the wolf trot into the woods. His heart slowed and his grin widened as a warmth pulsed like an ember in the center of his chest somehow knowing she would be given shelter from the cold.

“Alright Raven, Little Cuss, I gotta tell ya, I always watched this whole Christmas thing from the outside,” Johnny resumed his chatter after they traveled a half mile or so in the proper direction. “See as a young’un in the border towns, I got pretty good at grabbing a snatch of sweets from a broken pinata during Las Posadas but mestizos like me were chased off as often as not. I mean, I would follow along in the shadows as the procession walked along. Even sang the songs some, quiet like. Not when I was on my own so much, but before. Mama and me claimed a seat at Misa de Gallo, ya know, midnight mass, but rarely got an invite to the feasts that followed. I didn’t go after.

“Once I lost my Mama and was a lone cub on the prowl, had day to day surviving’ to worry about. When I set out on my new life, well, Christmas meant nothing to Johnny Madrid.

“Now I know Murdoch expected me back because Christmas Day seems to be important to him, and Scott seems to get caught up in doing things this way and that ‘cause it’s what you do on Christmas, but whoo wee, that Teresa. The whole notion of trees in the house and holly an’ mistletoe spread through every room, ribbons an’ bells tied on anything that moves is beyond me but the thought of good food, a warm bed, an’ a clean stable for you both makes the concept a might more appealin’.

“Nah, Christmas Day meant nothing to Johnny Madrid, but don’t tell ‘em, I kinda want Christmas to mean something to Johnny Lancer. Just wish I didn’t start it off on Murdoch’s fussin’ side.”

The next couple of hours passed with Johnny’s stories, a song or two, Raven’s snorted commentary and Little Cuss’s indignant bawling when Johnny’s fingers sucked into his mouth did not provide the satisfaction he expected.

“Lookee there,” Johnny rubbed at the calf’s snow dampened ears when the outline of a barn, its roof lined in white was etched on the dark horizon. “I told ya we’d get there, didn’t I? Raven, we gotta leave Little Cuss with Señora Noelia. She shepards over the cows in the milk barn an’ she sure don’t cotton to anyone tellin’ her any different ‘though Jelly sure makes her hoot an’ holler some days. Cuss, you won’t be the first orphaned calf she gave over to that sweet tempered Nace Mamá who walks this earth to keep little ones ‘til they can venture out on their own. She only ever had one baby of her own, but it didn’t make it, so she loves on every other one that comes her way.

“And, well, I’m not so sure I can pull it off since Murdoch don’t always hear what I’m saying but he sure listens to Big Brother Scott. He’ll make sure you spend the rest of your days satisfying future mamas and growing up your breed that Murdoch set out to create. No matter what, I’ll make sure you don’t end up on anyone’s supper plate.”

.

Johnny entered the yard in front of the hacienda another hour later, his hands and his heart warmed when Nace Mamá and Little Cuss hit it off right away. The calf tucked right in to the meal he had been clamoring for and the cow licked on him like he was born to her. He was glad it didn’t take any convincing on his part with the place being quiet like it was and not expected back for hours. He rode straight for the barn but froze half-way off Raven’s back when he heard the unmistakable sound of a rifle being cocked.

“Don’t move another muscle mister…oh, Johnny! Oh, man, I shore am sorry,” the rough voice softened as a lone cowboy stepped out of the darkness into the light of the lanterns hanging on the side of the barn near the bunkhouse, folding the rifle into his arms.

“Frank,” Johnny greeted, his head dropping as he coughed into Raven’s shoulder. “Had me thinkin’ you were that Krampus fella Scott was tellin’ us about the other day.”

“Johnny. Didn’t mean to startle ya. It’s shore good to see ya. Wasn’t expecting anyone back yet and you riding in seemed it might be someone lookin’ to do some thievin’ or sumthin’ mischievous. Yep, coulda been that Krampus varmint. Even with this weather kickin’ up, the other cowboys went into Green River for that Christmas Eve service and all the vaqueros, and their families went to Morro Coyo for the last night of Las Posadas and the…what do ya call it?”

“Misa de Gallo.” Johnny led Raven toward the corral that surrounded the barn and swung the gate open.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“You didn’t want to sit in for the sermon of the year, Frank?” he asked with a impish grin.

“Well, Johnny, I think you will understand more than most what I’m gonna say. There is a welcoming spirit that seems to settle around people this time of year, but when you look like me,” he brushed the dark skin on the top of his hand, “in my experience, that’s one particular sin that’s not set aside at the door so easy. A quiet night celebratin’ in my own way was best for me.”

“I do understand, Frank. I don’t feel so welcome in the church either, especially when it’s all crowded up. Folks actin’ as if they don’t mind ya being there unless they have to sit near you.”

Frank nodded sagely. “Sittin’ on my bunk seemed far more peaceful. You look done in. Let me get that horse for you.”

“Nah, I made some promises to her I intend to keep.” Johnny rubbed at Raven’s nose lifting the frozen rope away from her skin. “She deserves some special care tonight.”

“Jelly’s been tryin’ to keep Barranca settled but that palomino of yours sure has been makin’ an ornery fuss missin’ you.” Frank rubbed at his mouth as he swiped at the crust of snow with his boot. “He sure ain’t the only one.” Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Now, Johnny, don’t take it the wrong way or nothin’, but you know how yer father is. Expectin’ things to be a certain way at a certain time an’ all. Me an’ the other hands are sure gonna have a better day tomorrow now that you’re back. He’s been a real bear watchin’ the road fer ya.”  

“Ran into some delays.” Johnny’s sigh came out as fog hiding the grimace on his face.

“Just glad ya made it back all in one piece.”

“Murdoch just may have a notion to put an end to that and take my head off.” The two laughed, suspecting Johnny wasn’t too far off the truth. “Go enjoy your night off, Frank.” Johnny waved as he led Raven into the barn as he coughed into his sleeve.

“Night, Johnny. Merry Christmas.”

.

His hands beginning to warm up although his feet ached in his damp boots, Johnny heard the first arrivals as they rode in from the Green River church services. Laughter and songs filtered into the stall where he pulled the mane comb through Barranca’s white locks. His horse had ignored him when he settled a grateful Raven into another stall and shunned him when he curried his body after checking his injured leg.

“I guess this is what I can expect from the rest of my family, huh?” Johnny attempted to scratch behind Barranca’s ears, but he lifted his head out of Johnny’s reach. “Well, amigo, I can’t say I woulda done anything in a different way. Things came about like they did, and I did what I thought best.” The palomino snorted. Johnny retrieved a carrot from the stash he had hidden in the tact room, offering it in his open palm. Barranca sniffed then snatched it but turned his face away as he chewed. “Maybe we can be friends again tomorrow?” The horse blew through his mouth, his lips flapping.

Pulling out the pocket watch his father had given him, he shivered despite the warmth in the barn. Just after midnight. Christmas Day. “I wonder if this is gonna be another Madrid Christmas, Barranca. Sure is starting out that way and I ain’t even run into Murdoch’s horns yet.”

Johnny stroked the golden neck with a sigh deciding to escape into the hacienda before any of the hands made it into the barn. He raised a hand to the greetings shouted at him, hoping they understood his reluctance to chat. He figured the few he passed were just as anxious to find their bunks or a game of cards, anything out of the cold. As he reached the gate of the barn corral, he rubbed at the sting of his ears from the winter nip when he spied the family barouche stop in the drive just in front of the portico.

Walt trotted up behind it shouting, “I’ll put the buggy and Zanzibar away for you, Mr. Lancer.” Johnny could not hear his father’s response as his large frame maneuvered slowly out of the barouche, its top covered in a layer of snow. Walking slowly in that direction, he saw movement from the shadows as his brother stepped out of the shadows from the front door. He frowned, sniffing back another cough, knowing that meant Scott was still too sick to make the trip into town. His brother stepped to the buggy to assist Teresa down.

Walt tied the reins of his horse to the back of the barouche and prepared to climb into the buggy when he saw Johnny’s approach, tipping his hat in that direction. Spying the movement, Murdoch peered around the transport as Walt flicked the reins, pulling away.

“Jooohhhnnny,” Murdoch called out as he recognized his tardy son moving in their direction. Johnny’s usual grace was disrupted with a stutter step, tripping over the dead in his feet and the creeping dread cracking his heart. He could bear his father’s angrily shouted ‘John!’ far more easily than that elongated greeting that was always followed by another of Murdoch’s lectures of disappointment.

The young man slumped into his coat, his chin tucked toward his chest, his steps slowing to a near stand-still. His eyes darted toward his brother who gave him a half-heartened nod of encouragement. Scott understood as well as Johnny what was likely to follow and silently sent his brother what support he could.

The cold wrapped around him, stabbing deep into his chest. Johnny stopped, his eyes on the ground dusted in white vowing to accept whatever Murdoch had to say without a word in return. He would explain the loss of the breeding cow…not the wolf, Murdoch would never accept that decision… the reasons for his two-day delay, and the promises he made to assist Tuck, all sure to cause an aggrieved frown to darken his father’s face. Salvaging the bull calf might temper his mood. And the contract that had filled Johnny with pride at the signing now felt like tarnished lead weighing him down as not enough to off-set the almighty balance sheet Murdoch held in such high esteem.

Johnny sucked in a slow breath, holding it tight so he could say the words out loud, doubting if Murdoch would listen. The mountain of a man strode toward him with determined steps, his face hidden in shadow. Johnny reached across his body to grab the saddlebags carried on his left shoulder, preventing his instinctive reach for his gun when a perceived threat approached.  

Today was Christmas. Johnny blew out the air in a gush of fog that dissipated into the night, bringing on more coughing. He would listen to Murdoch’s exasperation with his son’s faults keeping his own frustration at bay. He would explain all that had happened since he left and try to reason through his choices. He would find a way to make peace.

Later.

Today he would bear his father’s disfavor, saying not a word to stoke it into anger.

He braced himself as Murdoch stopped in front of him grabbing him by both arms. Johnny looked up, surprise and concern destroying the neutral mask he had set on his face. He was prepared for Murdoch’s disapproval but didn’t think he intended to do more than raise his voice. He never thought he would become physical in his reproach.

Shocked, he froze, stuttering, “M-Murdoch, I’m… I’m sor…”

“Johnny…Johnny, son, you’re home. You’re safe.” Murdoch pulled him into a fierce, albeit brief, hug before releasing him with one hand remaining on his shoulder. Johnny turned his head away as his throat tightened, unsure what to say. The cough was a welcome camouflage for the tangle of emotions on his face.

“Johnny, you making it back safely is everything I hoped for on this day. Son, seeing you here, all of us together…,” Murdoch paused at the catch in his throat. Johnny’s mouth opened slightly but was drawn into the wonder of the words and simply stared. Murdoch allowed a slight smile at his own sentimentality and shook himself back to expected practicality. “Let’s get you in out of this snow. You must be freezing in those wet clothes. Is that a cough I heard? Maria’s been keeping fresh brewed tea for your brother. Will warm you right up.”

“I’ll get some water heated up for a bath, Johnny,” Teresa assured him from the porch. “We’ll have you bundled up in no time. Maria left some food in the warming oven for you hoping you’d make it back tonight. She said it was something special for a Las Posada feast.”

“Oh, about that,” Scott called out, “I left you some tamales and posole, but I finished the buñuelos. They were delicious.”

Johnny blinked at the snow drifting into his face, his mouth moving but his words lost in his confusion. Murdoch draped his arm across his shoulders and pulled him along as Teresa disappeared into the house singing a disjointed Christmas carol he didn’t know the words to. They passed Scott, a bemused smile brightening his face. Johnny twisted his head back to see the conspiratorial wink that promised, ‘we’ll talk in your room later.’

“Welcome home, Brother. We’ve been waiting for you,” Scott said as he trotted to join his family.

Warmth spread through Johnny, taking away all the dead space that had chilled him. The marvel of the moment allowed him to finally release all the worry that had tightened every muscle since he rode out of Lancer almost a week ago. He leaned against his father who tugged him in tighter, his brother’s hand slapping at his back then falling around his waist as they walked through the wreath-covered door.

Johnny knew. He had no doubts. This was it. The emptiness of his past years and struggles of the past days and hours melted away. Surrounded by love and acceptance, he encountered what family and Christmas were supposed to feel like.

And then, Johnny smiled, his tumbled thoughts settling into place. He slipped his arms around them, holding on to this unique sensation, both complex and yet so simple. He glanced first at his brother then his father before letting his feelings sneak out into the blanket of their embrace

“It sure is good to be home.”

~ * ~ END ~ * ~

January 2025