Lancer in the summer sun, whirls of dust playing across the stark ranges of grass where cattle roamed, eating their fill and unaware of their soon-to-be fate--driven to the railhead, packed into cars and sent east to markets there to meet their fate as a possible meal for the wealthy and elite. 

Day after day, year after year the great ranch performed the same rituals of survival for its owner and his subordinates.  As in all things some years saw more prosperity than others.  Then in 1869, still in the shadow of the great cataclysm known as the War Between the States, Lancer had experienced its own crisis.  A salvo of bullets had struck down the Segundo and the owner of the great ranch, forcing the tall Scot who had given the ranch its name to come to terms with reality.  A year later after a long recovery Murdoch Lancer had finally sent for the two young men who might have a reason to fight at his side to save the ranch which held his heart's blood.

After the defeat of Day Pardee, the two sons had stayed on to make new lives for themselves and to learn of the man who had played no part in their lives to that point.

In the two years that followed, the Lancers strove to adjust to the new circumstances that they and Teresa O'Brien found themselves in, however, the struggle had not ended on the day Ramon Garcia rode under the great gate to hitch his exhausted horse in front of the white hacienda.

Removing his battered hat from his head, the solidly built, dark-haired man knocked on the wooden door and waited.

Strangers at the door to Lancer were not a rarity at Lancer.  Frequently, men would come looking for jobs, but generally they were younger.  To Teresa O'Brien's experienced eyes, this man in his thirties was not looking for a job.  He had business to discuss.

Politely, Teresa asked, "May I help you?"

In a cultured, slightly accented voice, Garcia replied, "Si, senorita.  My name is Ramon Garcia.  I would like to speak with John Madrid if he is here."

For a fraction of a second, a chill ran down the woman's straight back.  Too many men had come looking for the former gunfighter, but she let none of her dismay show on her face.   "He's out on the range right now, but I'm expecting him home soon.  Will you come in and wait?"

"Gracias.  I appreciate your kindness.  I have ridden far to find my friend and would not wish to miss him."

At the word "friend" Teresa relaxed slightly, especially when she realized that the man was not even wearing a gun.

After offering her guest coffee and cookies, she sat down on the couch in the great room to talk with the quiet spoken man.   "Have you known Johnny a long time, Senor?"

"Si.  In fact I believed he was dead, but then I discovered that he had not been shot and now lives here on this beautiful ranch."

"You knew him in Mexico ?"

"We fought together against the tyranny of those who would subjugate my people."

Teresa blinked in surprise.  The man did not seem to be the warrior type.

Ramon took a sip of the coffee and then smiled at the brown-haired woman.  "I see you have noticed that I do not carry a weapon.  After a time, I decided that fighting was not the way for me.  I attempted to enter the priesthood, but I had not the vocation.  Still I am grateful for their teaching."

Teresa licked her lips nervously.  She was more at ease with the man, but there was still something haunting about his dark eyes.   "You do know that Johnny now goes by the name Lancer now, don't you?  He. . .he isn't a gunfighter anymore."

"Si.  I had heard that, but. . .but I am here to see if he might help me."

Baldly, Teresa blurted out, "How?"

Garcia took another gulp of coffee.  "Senorita, please.  I do not do this easily.  I now hold the deed to a small piece of land.  There have been threats against me by a man named Barker who wants my land.  I would like to ask my friend to help me."

Teresa rose to her feet.  "Senor, Johnny doesn't do that kind of work anymore.  Can't you leave him alone?   He's happy here."

"Senorita, I do not wish harm to my friend, but he is the only person that I can trust to help me.  Would it not be better to let him decide?"

The young woman flounced out of the room.  She knew Johnny.  He would never say 'no' to a friend who asked for help.

Garcia sat quietly for a short time then he stood up to walk out the door.  It had been a mistake to come here to this beautiful place.  Johnny Madrid owed him nothing.  Why would any man leave his home for the dubious chance of being killed?

The tall man stood silently by his horse for a moment.  He had been so confident that Johnny would help him and now the frustrated words of a woman had diverted him from his purpose.  Patting his dusty horse, he started to climb on its back when the clatter of hoof beats approached.  In the distance he could see a palomino and a bay rapidly making their way towards him.  As soon as he could clearly see the dark-haired man on the palomino, Ramon knew that Johnny Madrid had returned and that it was too late for him to make his escape, but there was no need to tell him the true reason he had come so far. A few minutes of speech between two old friends and Ramon could depart, return to Mexico and somehow handle Barker on his own,

"Ramon!  Ramon Garcia!  What the hell are you doing here?  Haven't seen you in years." Johnny jumped down from Barranca's back to stride over to the gray horse.  Scott followed him at a more sedate pace.

"Johnny, I am most pleased to see you.  I. . .I had heard that you are now a big ranch owner and I wished to congratulate you, but now I must leave."

"Leave?  You can't leave.  Come in and stay for dinner.  We've got lots to talk about."

Scott took the reins to Barranca to join them with his own.  Murmuring quietly, he informed his brother that he would take care of the horses if Johnny wanted to go inside with his friend.

Nodding in gratitude, Johnny practically pulled the older man off his horse, pressing him to go inside.  

As they entered the great room, Johnny urged Ramon to sit down, pouring both of them a small drink before toasting the other man.  "Here's to old friends."

Garcia flushed.  "Johnny, I am most happy to see you are well, but I must not stay long.  I have been away from my ranch for many days and it is still a long ride."

Johnny brushed aside any protest.  "You're stayin' for dinner and stayin' t'night.  No arguments.  Want you to meet my father.  That was my brother who took the horses to the stable."

"Brother?  I did not realize you had a brother."

"Me neither 'til two years ago.  He lived in Boston almost all his life.  We've been gettin' to know each other for the last couple of years.  Name's Scott."

"I see.  And your father?"

"Remember I told you my mother went off when I was two, well, he decided he wanted me here a coupla years ago so now I own one-third of all of this."

Ramon's mouth formed a small O in surprise then he smiled.  "Who would have believed that the man I fought beside against the landowners would ever own so much himself?"

Johnny chuckled.  "Guess it does sound strange, but Murdoch's not like them we fought in Mexico ."

"Of course not.  Please forgive me.  I did not mean. . .I am sure your father is an honorable man, just as his son is."

Now, it was Johnny's turn to flush.  "Ramon, after I lost track of you, I done some things that weren't so honorable, but I got a new life here and I intend to make the most of it."

The dark eyes of Ramon Garcia twinkled.  "And have you not met anyone to share it with?  The young lady who opened the door to me perhaps?"

"Who?  Oh Teresa, you mean?  She's my father's ward.  She's almost like a sister to me, but if you met her, why were you leavin'?  She surely told you I'd be back soon?"

"Si, she did, but I decided not to wait.  Please forgive me, amigo, but I cannot accept your generous offer of food and a place for the night.  I must continue on my way."

Before Johnny could make a gesture to stop Ramon from leaving, Scott entered the great room where he stopped by the chiming clock.

Grateful for the distraction, Johnny grabbed Scott's arm.  "C'mon in, Scott.  This is an old friend from my days in Mexico .  His name is Ramon Garcia.  Ramon, this is my brother, Scott."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Senor Garcia.  Perhaps you'll excuse me for a minute.  I'd like to wash up."

Johnny's eyes flickered over to the dried blood on Scott's forehead.  "You go get that cleaned up.  Let Teresa put somethin' on it."

"It's nothing, Johnny.  I'll be back in just a few minutes.  I'd like to talk to your friend.  Maybe he can tell me all your secrets!"  An evil laugh parted the firm lips.

"No way.  I'm like a saint to this man!" Johnny teased.

After Scott's departure, Ramon remarked, "Su hermano, he is not like you, is he?"

"Nah, I'm the smart, good-lookin' one, but well, for a brother he isn't bad."

"You do not get along with him?"

For a moment Johnny's sapphire eyes just stared at his friend.  "We. . .we get along fine.  It's just that it took some getting' used to havin' a family."

Ramon nodded wisely.  "I can understand that.  It would be almost as difficult to gain a family as to lose one."

"Never thought 'bout it that way.  'Course you never had a family as I recall."

Ramon's eyes dropped.  "That is not. . .quite true, Johnny.  I had a brother, but he is dead."

"You never told me that," the younger man sympathized.

"There was no reason.  He had already been dead for many years."

"So what are you doing up this way?  Can't be just a coincidence you comin' to Lancer."

Garcia fidgeted with his battered hat.  "I came this way because of business, but it is now concluded so I need to return home."

"Where is home?"

"I, too, now own land.  Nothing like your beautiful home, but it is all mine, at least for now."

"What's that mean?"

"Please, Johnny, I do not wish to talk about my ranch.  It is too small to be of concern.  Tell me how you escaped from the firing squad.  I did not even know about your capture until Miguel Torres told me."

"Miguel?  Haven't seen him since before I was captured.  He still alive?"

"Regrettably no.  He was captured and executed, but the priest who was with him at the end sent me a letter.   Miguel said to tell me that you had escaped."

"Yeah, well, I owe that to Murdoch.  He sent a Pinkerton after me and he got there just in time."

"You are most fortunate, amigo and now you have this magnifico hacienda to call home."

"Guess you're right.  'Nother coupla minutes and Johnny Madrid would have been buried in some grave with nobody to care."

"Johnny?"  The younger Lancer looked up into his brother's white face.  "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.  Teresa says dinner will be ready in about an hour.  I'm sure your friend can stay that long."

"Sure he can.  C'mon and sit down, Scott.  How's your head?"

"Fine.  It was only a graze."

"Still you coulda been hurt if you hadn't hung onto your horse.  Gettin' bad when a man can't ride 'cross his own property and not get shot at."

"You had an accident, Senor Lancer?" Ramon queried the older Lancer.

"Some fool kid was out huntin' or somethin'.  Spent bullet got Scott," Johnny informed Ramon.

"It is most fortunate that you were not severely hurt, Senor."

"I know.  Guess it's a good thing I have a hard head."

"That's the truth and stubborn to boot," Johnny chided his brother.

Garcia cleared his throat.

Sapphire eyes turned on him.  "What?"

"Amigo, the Johnny Madrid I remember was stubborn as the mule we used to carry our arms."

Scott grinned.  "Good to have you here, Senor Garcia.  It's nice to have an objective viewpoint about my brother!"

"Gracias, senor, but please call me Ramon."

"Then you can call me Scott.  By the way, do you know anything about Johnny that I can hold against him for the next ten years or so?"  The innocent look on the handsome face brought a squeal of rage from the dark-haired Lancer. 

"I told you he thinks of me as a saint.  I even let him date the girl I was goin' with at the time.  Didn't I, Ramon?"

"Si.  That girl is now married and weighs more than my horse."

"What?  She was real skinny when I took her out."

"Perhaps she gained weight from eating so much to mend her broken heart because the great Johnny Madrid left her?"

"I'm tellin' you, Boston , you'd better be quiet or you'll be sorry!"

Cold blue eyes matched cold voice.  "And just what do you intend to do, Brother?"

"Well, uh, I, you, I'll tell Teresa not to give you any dessert!"

"That does have me shaking in my boots.  Anyway, Ramon, is there something you can tell me about this hombre?"

Garcia flushed.  "Perhaps I should think that over.  I know how good my friend is with a gun."

Carefully, Johnny removed his gun from its holster and began to spin the chamber.  "Now, Ramon, you know that you’re my friend and I wouldn't do anythin' to you so go ahead and tell Scott anythin' you want.   Just remember that time I pulled your hide out of that lake."

Again, Ramon cleared his throat.  "Johnny, perhaps the years have been more than I thought.  I believe it was I who pulled you out of a lake when you had too much tequila and were trying to cool off."

"That's not the time I meant!"

"Just how many times have you been in a lake, brother?" Scott coolly inquired.

"Of course, it was Johnny.  I remember because you turned blue from the cold water."

Johnny growled at his guest.  "Let's talk 'bout somethin' else."

The blond winked at Garcia.  "On the contrary, I think this is very interesting."

"What's interesting?"   Standing in the doorway from the kitchen was the tall figure of Murdoch Lancer.

"Uh, er, nothin' Murdoch.  I want you to meet my good friend, Ramon Garcia.  He's gonna stay for dinner and if I can talk him into it, stay overnight."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Senor Garcia.  Please do stay.  It's always nice to meet Johnny's friends.  They always tell us so much about my son.  Isn't that right, Scott?"

"Yes sir.  Interesting things too.

"Gracias, Senor Lancer.  I find I cannot say no to your invitation."

Johnny clapped his friend on the back.  "Good.  Got so much I wanna ask you about and Teresa's a great cook.  Been teachin' her how to make tortillas and real hot chili."

"I heard that, Johnny Lancer!"  Teresa walked into the room.  "If you remember the last time I made it, you were up all night with a stomach ache!"

"Aw, Teresa, that was just because the beans gave me bloat!"

"Well, I don't know what it was, but you were complaining around here for two days so the next time I make chili, I'm going to make it so mild a baby could eat it!"

Johnny groaned.  "Then I'll start makin' it myself."

"Suits me fine.  I can use a break from cooking and speaking of cooking--dinner's ready so go wash your hands—all of you, except Scott.  He's fine."

Johnny glared over at his brother.  "Goody-two-shoes!"

Scott's mouth turned up into a grin.  "Sorry about that, but I washed up when I cleaned my head wound."

Fifteen minutes later all of them were seated around the table, stuffing themselves with Teresa's chicken stew and dumplings.

After finishing one plate of the tasty dish, Johnny turned to the lady of the house.  "That bird was kinda stringy, wasn't he?"

Teresa's mouth dropped open, but then she closed it and smiled sweetly.  "You're right, Johnny dear.  It's good that I only made enough for you to have one helping, isn't it?"

"But. . .I. . .could force down another helping before dessert!"

"Sorry.  Scott dear, you haven't had much, would you like some more?  There's plenty."

"Thanks, Teresa, but if you don't mind I think I've had enough.  Actually, would you all excuse me? My head has begun to hurt a great deal and I think I should go lie down for awhile."

Murmurs of assent met his plea.

The quiet at the table was broken when Murdoch inquired of Johnny about Scott so his younger son filled him about the spent bullet.  The rancher just shook his head in dismay.

Just as Teresa was clearing away the dishes from their coffee and cake, Murdoch mentioned to the young woman that their guest would be staying over so she would need to make sure the guest room was ready.

Teresa stopped to stare at the visitor, but said nothing.  With a sigh she left the room.

"What's the matter with Teresa?" Johnny asked his father.  "She doesn't usually mind getting the guest room ready."

"Johnny, perhaps it is best if I do not stay.  Senorita O'Brien has every reason to not want me here."

Murdoch sat up straighter.  "Just what does that mean Mr. Garcia?"

"She knows that I came here to ask for Johnny's help in saving my ranch.  She does not approve and I cannot blame her.  I will leave first thing in the morning—alone."