There are some who would have described the scene as comical, and indeed, it was not without its amusing aspects.  However, Scott Lancer didn’t feel the slightest inclination to laugh. 

His brother, Johnny Madrid Lancer, was a man who had faced death many times over.  Scott, himself, had witnessed this on more occasions than he cared to remember.  Johnny’s demeanor in each of these cases had been the same: icy blue eyes which never wavered, the line of his mouth, set, with perhaps the hint of a lopsided grin.  Calm—deliberate—fearless.

This same man was now staring at the simple, brown-paper wrapped parcel with the kind of wary apprehension most men would employ when regarding a coiled rattlesnake.

*********************

Earlier in the evening, he and his brother had been sitting at their ease in the Great Room.  While Scott had been absorbed in one of the leather-bound books from their father’s shelves, Johnny had been content to simply lie there, sprawled on the comfortable sofa, drowsing in front of the fire.

When their father entered the room carrying the package, it was immediately apparent that this was something out of the ordinary.  Murdoch’s normally dour, pragmatic expression now betrayed trepidation and some other emotion, difficult to identify. He placed the object on the table in front of his younger son.

“I was cleaning out some things in my closet and I came upon this.  It belonged to you when you were a child.  I thought you might want to have it.”

******************** 

Johnny finally seemed to recover himself and, with a few deft movements, the contents of the parcel were revealed.

The child-size quilt was bedraggled, worn, even threadbare in places.  The once bright colors of its kaleidoscope design were dull and faded.  One could imagine, just by looking at it, how smooth and soft it would feel to the touch.

Scott watched his brother.  Those hands, those deadly hands, which could draw and fire a pistol in an awe-inspiring display of speed and accuracy, were struggling not to tremble as they reached for the ragged blanket.

**************** 

Scott and his brother were sitting at their ease in the Great Room.  While Scott’s attention appeared to be focused on the leather-bound book in his hands, he was absorbed in watching his brother.  Johnny was content to simply lie there, sprawled on the comfortable sofa, drowsing in front of the fire.  The shabby quilt covered only the smallest portion of his recumbent form.  And occasionally, just occasionally, his hand would gently stroke the tattered cloth. 

There are some who would have described the scene as comical, and indeed, it was not without its amusing aspects.  However, Scott Lancer didn’t feel the slightest inclination to laugh.