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This song was written by my dear friend Char, about our  Johnny Madrid Lancer, inspired from Marty Robbins song.

There are so many wonderful writers out there to keep count of, to add their Drabbles here.  But I do hope you enjoy these, and if you want to read more, here's a link to an awesome website full of Lancer stories, photos and so on. lancerlovers.wordpress.com

​​Connections by Charlene
 ​
Had it been two weeks?  Johnny stood at the arch that led from the patio into the side yard of the great Hacienda, staring at the tree.  He remembered the day of the great battle and his newly met brother dragging him to safety under that tree.  He remembered Murdoch standing in this same arch watching, worried, as they walked together back to the house.  Johnny laughed.  Well, he tried to walk, didn’t he.  “I can make it,” except he couldn’t and ended up being carried ignobly over his Boston brother’s shoulder.  “What the hell kinda word is ignobly anyway?” Johnny groused.  One ol’ Boston threw around every time he told the story.  

Johnny walked across the green grass towards his tree.  He didn’t know when he decided it was his tree.  He guessed bleeding on it gave him claim to it.  He touched it, feeling the rough bark.  It wasn’t as cold as the Madrone trees in the courtyard.  Darndest thing.  Johnny wasn’t used to trees being cold.  ‘Never heard of a tree being cold before coming here.  Kinda cold like the Old Man.  So those cold red trees were the Old Man’s trees.  His tree was warm, and that made him smile a little.  Then he sighed, turned and leaned against his tree, and thought.
 
‘Okay, Johnny Boy, what now?  You helped save the Old Man’s ranch, which’ll be a third mine come this time next week.  Unless.” He didn’t want to voice more of his dark thoughts, the ones that always followed that unless.  He didn’t want to think about a life leaving Lancer, but he was scared of what this new life at Lancer was bringing.  “Well, you’ve been scared before.”
 
Johnny turned to his left and stared at the one-and-a-half-story building.  It looked like a smaller version of the Hacienda.  There was a long porch under a terra cotta tiled roof, a full glass door, an old wagon wheel laid against the wall, in an almost decorative fashion, beside a bench, and a large plant.  Johnny’s blue eyes squinted as he stared and then pushed off the tree and headed toward the building.  This was a house.  Whose house?
 
Opening the grey-trimmed door, Johnny stepped in.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.  The only light was what filtered through the windows and the door.  He walked over and pulled a tarp off a blue wingback chair.  It seemed to match the one in the great room.  He walked around, fingering trinkets and pulling back more tarps.  Someone had lived here.  If not for the Hacienda, this was a substantial ranch house on its own.  He’s worked range wars for ranchers with smaller houses and, when growing up, never lived in a place as big as the great room here.
 
Johnny walked over to the stairs and headed up.  He stopped on the landing and listened.  He heard ... something.  Walking down the long hall, he stopped by a door.  The sound was louder.  Crying.  He pushed the partially closed door open and stared at Teresa.  She hadn’t noticed him as she sat on the bed holding ... was it a doll?
 
Johnny closed his eyes and sighed.  The foreman’s house.  Teresa’s father had been the foreman of Lancer until he was murdered.  Wrack up another one for ol’ Day.  Well, things didn’t work out quite like ol’ Day thought they would, and he’s worm food, too, now.  Johnny sighed again and walked over, sitting on the bed, he silently wrapped his arm around Teresa’s shoulders.  She leaned into him and cried harder, holding the rag doll to her face.
 
Johnny waited until she seemed to cry herself out.  “If I was Boston, I’d have one of them fancy handkerchiefs of his.” She laughed a little and sat up a bit straighter.  “This was your room?”
 
“Yes,” she answered softly.  Sniffling, she looked up at him.  “Daddy and I lived here as long as I can remember.  I had my room in the big house too.  I’d stay there when Daddy would be gone.”
 
“With Murdoch?”
 
Teresa nodded.  “Sometimes. Sometimes Uncle Murdoch would be away with Daddy.  Cattle drives or ranch business or ...” her voice dropped slightly, “looking for you.  Anyway, I’d stay in my room there with Maria and Juanita looking out for me.”
 
Johnny looked down, studying the tile floor.  Murdoch looked for him.  Had looked for him while Teresa was a child ... hell, while he was still a child, and God only knew that he hadn’t been a child long.  ‘Wonder ... nope ... ain’t going there.’ He nudged Teresa with his shoulder.  “It was like you had two Papas, huh?”
 
 “Yes.” She smiled slightly.   “Always.”
 
Johnny grinned, and a mischievous gleam came to his eyes.  “That’s why you’re so spoiled.”
 
“I’m not spoiled,” Teresa indignantly sniffled.
 
“Sure you ain’t,” Johnny laughed.  She seemed out of her doldrums as she rolled her eyes at him and Johnny laughed again.  “Reckon we would’ve liked each other ... growing up here together.”
 
“Oh, I know we would.  You’d have been my big brother.”
 
“Pulling your pigtails.”
 
“Protecting me from the bullies.”
 
“I can’t imagine anyone having the nerve to bully Teresa O’Brien.”
 
“A few tried.”
 
He grinned again, “Did’ja beat ‘em up.”
 
“Of course,” she laughed, and they laughed together.
 
Johnny sighed and leaned back on his elbows.  “I think I mighta liked it.  Growing up here.  Being your big brother.  Maybe, well, reckon it ain’t too late, is it?”
 
“Never.  I told you to think of me as a sister.”
 
“Yeah, only instead of bullies, I gotta protect you from beaus.”
 
“Oh, you better not,” she growled.
 
He sat up and gave her his best Madrid stare.  “Johnny Madrid ain’t scared of no one, especially a little girl.”
 
“Well, Johnny Lancer better be,” she proclaimed as she stood up and pushed him over.  “Seeee,” she said, dropping her doll and running from the room.
 
Laughing, Johnny sat up on the bed.  He picked up the rag doll with her brown string hair.  Maybe it wasn’t going to be so scary changing from Johnny Madrid to Johnny Lancer.  Not with a big brother to guide him and a little sister to push him when he needed it.  Putting the doll on the patchwork quilt, he stood and decided to chase Teresa out the door.
 
The End
August 2023