Disclaimer:  I don’t own the characters, I just borrow them once in a while. 
	
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	Sheriff Val Crawford poured tequila into three shot glasses in the middle of 
	the table at which he sat with Scott and Johnny Lancer.  He sloshed a little 
	over the rim of one and used his sleeve to wipe it off the table, then 
	handed a glass to each of the other men. 
	
	Scott’s eyes lit with good-natured amusement.  “Thanks, Val,” he said, then 
	he locked eyes with Johnny.  “Only as auspicious an occasion as your 
	twenty-first birthday would tempt me to drink this, brother.” 
	
	Johnny smiled as both Val and Scott clinked their glasses with his, and then 
	all three men threw back the full contents.  Val and Johnny both smacked 
	their lips but Scott’s reaction was more circumspect.  He bit back the cough 
	that threatened, covering it with something that sounded like clearing his 
	throat.  Johnny laughed out loud. 
	
	“Yeah, happy birthday, compadre,” Val said as he began pouring again.  
	“There was times I never thought to see this day.” 
	
	Scott covered his glass to avoid getting more and raised a hand to signal 
	the bartender.  “Three beers over here please, Fred.”   
	
	“I know, Val,” Johnny responded, looking down into his refilled glass, a 
	half-smile on his face.  “I know.  I’m not sure I ‘spected to see it 
	either.”  He swallowed his shot and put the glass down, turning it upside 
	down.   
	
	“Murdoch gave us the morning off, Johnny,” Scott reminded him.  “Feel free 
	to imbibe of this… excellent tequila as much as you like in honor of the 
	occasion.” 
	
	Johnny chuckled.  “I’m plannin’ to pace myself, big brother.  I got… plans 
	for later tonight.”  He glanced around the room and spied the saloon’s 
	newest girl, Rosalita.   
	
	“I tole her you was comin’ to celebrate,” Val said.  “She’s lookin’ forward 
	to gettin’ to know ya better, boy.  My treat.” 
	
	Johnny glanced at the sheriff.  “Ya did?   Why, Val, I think that may the 
	best birthday present ya ever gave me…..   Come to think of it, ya never 
	gave me a birthday present before.” 
	
	Val slapped him on the shoulder.  “Turnin’ twenty-one’s a big milestone.  
	‘Specially for someone like… well,  like ya used ta be.” 
	
	Johnny nodded thoughtfully, then got up from his seat and headed to the bar 
	when he saw Rosalita stop to speak with the bartender.  “I’ll go pick up 
	them beers, brother…, “ he called over his shoulder. 
	
	Val and Scott watched him go in silence, then they looked back at each other 
	and burst out laughing.  Finally Scott said, “I suspect he’s going to be 
	very grateful in the morning, Sheriff.” 
	
	“I’ll be grateful if he manages to get them beers over here ‘fore they’re 
	piss-warm,” Val complained good-naturedly.   He started to get up to go 
	retrieve them himself but his attention was captured by the arrival of 
	another man calling his name.  “What in tarnation is wrong with ya, Grant?” 
	he grumbled to the other man as he resettled in his seat. 
	
	“Sheriff, it’s the Danson boys agin,” the older man said.  He looked 
	decidedly down on his luck and wrung his hat between his hands.   “They’s 
	out at old Widow Johnson’s place.  They both wanna court her niece that’s 
	visitin’, even though the Widow says she’ll shoot ‘em both ‘fore she’d let 
	‘em talk to Miss Melanie…” 
	
	“Hold on, Grant,” Val broke in.  “What’s any o’ this got to do with me?” 
	
	“They’re drunk as skunks and ain’t gonna back down.  She’s gonna shoot ‘em, 
	sure as I’m standin’ here,” the man said.  “I’m just tellin’ ya there’s 
	gonna be trouble, that’s all.” 
	
	Val poured two more shots of tequila and before Scott had the chance to 
	protest that he’d had enough, the Sheriff handed one to Grant who 
	immediately downed it.  The sheriff did the same, then he ran his hand over 
	his mouth, sighed loudly and stood up.  “Well, let’s get out there and keep 
	that crazy ole woman from doin’ something I’ll regret,” he drawled.  “And 
	dammit, why the hell she gotta go crazy on my first night off in a month?” 
	
	“Have you seen her niece,” Scott asked with a smile.  “I think the Widow 
	might have a good reason for trying to protect the girl from the Dansons.” 
	
	Val was watching Johnny at the bar where he was leaning down and whispering 
	in Rosalita’s ear.  She laughed prettily and Johnny gave her his most 
	winning smile, and then took a sip of his beer.   The sheriff smiled, then 
	turned to Scott.  “I think the Widow Johnson’s keepin’ Miss Melanie on a 
	shelf until she can find a way to introduce her to one of the Lancer boys… 
	if you get my point,” he said, wagging his eyebrows 
	
	Scott smiled.  “Oh, I see….   Maybe I’ll send Johnny that way on the way 
	home tomorrow.” 
	
	Val laughed wickedly as he made his way out of the saloon, followed by 
	Grant.  In a moment, Johnny was standing next to his brother’s chair, 
	holding out a beer.  “Where’d Val go?” 
	
	“Some trouble apparently.  I’m not sure he’ll be back tonight.” 
	
	Johnny reseated himself and took a deep swallow from his beer.  “I’ll just 
	have ta drink his then.” 
	
	“Rosalita’s looking quite lovely tonight,” Scott said as he took a sip of 
	his own beer. 
	
	“Umm, yeah.  Did you remember to tell Murdoch about the rockslide blockin’ 
	the creek in the south pasture?” 
	
	Scott shook his head.  “I thought you were going to tell him.” 
	
	“That could be trouble….” 
	
	“Don’t worry about it, Johnny.  Someone will likely see it tomorrow and get 
	it cleared up.  If not, we’ll get to it the day after.” 
	
	“That’s Christmas Day!” 
	
	“Oh, right.  Sorry.  Then the day after that—“ 
	
	“By then, a little problem could be a big problem.  You know what Murdoch 
	always says.  Do it today, ‘cause tomorrow there’ll  be some other problem 
	comin’ up.” 
	
	Scott bit back a smile.  “Since when did you start quoting our esteemed 
	father?” 
	
	Johnny chuckled.  “Well… when he’s right, he’s right.  And tomorrow’s gonna 
	be a short day so it’s possible none of the men’ll be down that way and see 
	the creek backin’ up.   You know water’s the life-blood of a workin’ 
	ranch….” 
	
	“Yes,” Scott said as he calmly took another sip of his beer.  “Seems to me 
	I’ve heard that somewhere…..” 
	
	“Ya heard it from Murdoch,” Johnny broke in before realizing Scott was 
	pulling his leg.  “Well…. Anyway, it just seems like a problem that might 
	grow if someone don’t get the information to the ole man.” 
	
	Scott’s eyes had drifted toward Mona, one of the more experienced girls in 
	the saloon.  He’d planned to spend some time with her tonight.  She hailed 
	from back East, something they shared, and she had a warm, calm way about 
	her that he particularly liked.  The fiery Rosalita was a beauty but the 
	older brother found Mona’s pretty face and sweet style more appealing.  He 
	sighed.  “All right.  I’ll head back to the ranch—“ 
	
	“I didn’t mean for you to go!” 
	
	Now Scott leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes.  “Then what 
	exactly are you saying, brother?  It’s your birthday.  And you’ve been 
	looking forward to this all week…” 
	
	Johnny looked out the window as though he was thinking about what to say.  
	Finally he turned back, took the third beer that was sitting on the table 
	and lifted it to his lips.  He took a sip, then dropped his hands to his lap 
	and stared into the beer. 
	
	“Johnny, just get it said,” Scott said quietly. 
	
	Johnny shook his head as though he was arguing with himself, then he started 
	to speak but kept his eyes on the beer as though it might answer him.  
	“Well…. It’s just that…” he started, then stopped and took another sip 
	before putting the beer down on the table.  Then he began to worry the beads 
	around his wrist.  “This is how I spent most of my birthdays.  In a saloon.  
	My mama worked in a bunch of cantinas when I was a kid.  When she remembered 
	it was my birthday, she’d ask the cook to gimme somethin’ for dinner, or get 
	some of the girls to keep me comp’ny.  After she was gone, I’d almost always 
	find a saloon on my birthday, and a girl to spend it with when I was old 
	enough…..” 
	
	Scott listened and began to understand.  “Maria and Theresa made a nice 
	dinner tonight, and the family gave you presents.  Was this the first 
	birthday … like that for you?” 
	
	Johnny didn’t look up, he just nodded.   
	
	“I understand, little brother.  I… felt the same the other night.  It was my 
	first real family birthday.  Back in Boston, my grandfather always threw big 
	parties on my birthday but they were really his annual Christmas gathering.  
	My birthday was just… an afterthought. “ 
	
	Johnny looked up, surprise evident in his eyes.  “Is that why ya wanted to 
	stay home the other night?” 
	
	Scott nodded.  “Yes.  I was happy those kind of birthdays had been left 
	behind….” 
	
	“Me too,” Johnny said quietly. 
	
	There was a moment of silence between them, and then Scott spoke as he rose 
	and headed toward the door.  “I’ll get the horses.” 
	
	“I’ll tell Rosie I’ll see her next weekend and meet ya outside the 
	livery…..” 
	
	Almost an hour later the two young men quietly entered the hacienda they had 
	called home for almost a year now.  Speaking in whispers, they entered the 
	great room and started when Murdoch Lancer boomed “Boys!  What brings you 
	home so early?” 
	
	“Whoa, Murdoch,” Johnny said, putting a hand to his chest.  “We thought sure 
	you’d be in bed by now.  It’s almost ten….  And mornin’ comes— 
	
	“..early on a working ranch,” he and Scott finished in unison.  They looked 
	at each other and grinned. 
	
	“Yes, my sons,” Murdoch responded.  “I believe I’ve said that one or two 
	times…” 
	
	“Or one or two hundred times,” Scott said. 
	
	“Or maybe one or two thousand times,” Johnny echoed. 
	
	“As I’ve already told your brother, I don’t care how old you get, I still 
	reserve the right to tell you not to get too big for your britches… either 
	of you,” Murdoch said, smiling. 
	
	“You drinkin’ alone?” Johnny asked.  “Scott and me’ll join ya.  We were 
	gonna have one ‘fore headin’ up.”  He went to the sideboard where the liquor 
	was kept as Scott walked silently over to their father.  Murdoch pulled the 
	ten dollar gold piece Scott had given him to settle a bet earlier in the 
	evening and handed it over without comment.  Scott pocketed it again then 
	settled onto the arm of the couch across from Murdoch, a satisfied grin on 
	his face. 
	
	“There’s good tequila there, son,” Murdoch called to Johnny. 
	
	“Nah.  I’m gonna try some of that French stuff you and Scott like so much.  
	He turned two glasses over and began to fix the drinks. 
	
	“Brandy,” Scott said. 
	
	“Yeah.  Up ta now, I always thought it was just a name saloon girls liked….” 
	
	Both father and older brother smiled and shook their heads as Johnny 
	returned with two glasses.  He handed one to Scott and sat down beside his 
	brother on the couch.  They both took a sip. 
	
	“So… why ya sitting here drinkin’ alone?” Johnny asked again, still curious 
	about what would keep “early to bed and early to rise” Murdoch Lancer up on 
	a weeknight. 
	
	Murdoch smiled and took a sip of his own brandy.  He glanced over at the 
	large clock on the mantle.  “I was just… waiting,” he said. 
	
	“Waitin’ for…. us?” Johnny pressed. 
	
	“No,” Murdoch said looking down into the golden liquid in his glass.  “In 
	about five minutes, it’ll be twenty-one years since my youngest child made 
	his way into the world…” 
	
	A look of understanding crossed Scott’s face but Johnny’s reflected his 
	surprise at the statement, and a lifetime supply of unsatisfied curiosity.  
	“I… was born at night?”  
	
	“Yes.  We thought you’d be born earlier in the month but you were late—“ 
	
	“There’s a surprise,” Scott murmured as he started to sip his drink.  Johnny 
	instantly kicked him in the leg and Scott had to fight to keep from spilling 
	any of his brandy, all the while chuckling. 
	
	“Well… least I come by it naturally,” Johnny finally said.  Then he looked 
	back at his father.  “Was I…well, was I a good baby?” 
	
	Murdoch glanced at Scott and realized he was silently encouraging the 
	conversation, and even seemed to want to hear the story also.  Once again, 
	the rancher thanked God for his older boy’s generous spirit and 
	unconditional love for his brother.  The Scotsman found he didn’t even mind 
	losing that ten dollar bet about whether Johnny might prefer to spend his 
	birthday at home.  Obviously he did, and Murdoch’s heart swelled with pride 
	and affection for both his boys. 
	
	“Well… you came into the world screaming like a banshee,” Murdoch admitted 
	settling back to tell the tale he’d never shared with his sons before.  “I 
	swear I’d never heard anything so small make so much noise before in my 
	life.  But when the women had cleaned you up, they wrapped you in a blanket, 
	still exercising your lungs.  And one of them put you in my arms.  And then… 
	you stopped screaming.  And locked eyes with me for a minute.   Then you 
	yawned and fell asleep, just like that….” 
	
	A few minutes later, the clock struck ten and Murdoch Lancer raised his 
	glass to his youngest son.  Scott did the same.  “Happy birthday, Johnny,” 
	they both said. 
	
	Johnny Lancer blinked back tears and took a sip from his glass.  “This is 
	pretty good,” he said.  “I think this stuff might actually catch on….”     
	
	THE END