This story was written for Halloween in 2005. It is rated for violence and references to the occult. It will be posted in 4 parts. It was followed in 2006 by The Devil's Daughter and that will be posted shortly. I am working on the last part of the trilogy which will eventually be posted in October 2008.

Of Gods & Men

Part 1

The air was hot and heavy. Ash fell from the sky like snow and covered everything it touched with a thin layer of dirty grey dust. The fields continued to burn, panicking the thoroughbred horses penned in the corrals. Never before had the fires come so close to the hacienda and the precious stock. Don Pedro gave the order to open the gates and drive the horses away from the flames. Water was scarce in this drought stricken land leaving him with no option but to let the fires run their course through the dry grass. Trenches were dug and everyone waited with baited breath to see if they would contain the destructive element. As day turned to night the fires began to die away leaving the barns and corrals in ruins.

Don Pedro retreated to his study. Even with the windows closed the smell of smoke was everywhere. He sat at his beautiful mahogany desk and contemplated the ruin of his livelihood, and that of his people. He couldn't remember when it had last rained. The tropical storms which, in the past, had filled the streams and water holes had failed to materialise for the second year running. The wells were running dry and his workers had started to leave, claiming that the estancia and surrounding areas were cursed.

The heavy wooden door flew open to admit the one man Don Pedro feared. For six months the man had been preaching his sedition to the peons, stirring up trouble and recruiting disciples. At first the Don had tried to persuade the man to leave. When that had failed he turned to harsher methods which were equally unsuccessful. Now the man wielded so much influence that his death or disappearance would most likely trigger a blood bath.

The self styled priest with fanatical dark eyes wore a long black robe covered by a full length black cloak. His dirty and matted hair fell to his waist. He carried with him an odour of sulphur, and other unclean things, and Don Pedro shuddered.

"The old gods are angry," the Priest ranted. "They are tired of being ignored and they demand a worthy sacrifice."

The Don laced his fingers together to stop them shaking. "There is only one God. Your talk is blasphemous."

"You are the one who insults the gods," the man spat. "How much more damage do they have to inflict upon you and your household before you accept the truth? They have returned and you and all men will bow before them. If the rain festival is not held soon this land will be destroyed by fire. Is that what you want?"

Don Pedro bowed his head in grief. "No," he whispered, ashamed of his superstitious fears.

"Only the death of a brave warrior will appease their anger. The gods themselves will show me who is to be the sacrifice. I will work the ritual tonight."

The priest left to make his preparations and Don Pedro put his head in his hands and wept for his cowardice and for the blight that lay across his people and his land.

LLLLL

The dank air of the cave caused the torches to flicker fitfully. Outside the rim of light cast by the torches was pitch darkness. The atmosphere chilled the blood as the hooded man kept up his unending chant flanked by his two acolytes.

He stared into the bowl of water, his breath casting ripples on the surface. As his chanting ceased the water turned milky white. Two more men entered the cave supporting a young girl. Fear and the drugs in her system had robbed her of her voice and the ability to move independently.

They stripped off her robe and laid her on the stone altar, holding her in place. She stared through glazed eyes at the man towering over her wielding a large knife. Watching, unable to move, she saw the knife descend. She found her voice then, but her scream tailed off as quickly as it had arisen.

Holding the girl's still beating heart over the bowl the man resumed his chanting as he let her blood fall and mingle with the water. The water cleared and became like a mirror only it didn't reflect what was in the cave.

Instead it showed a dark haired, blue eyed young man, bare chested and well muscled. The priest gave a sigh of pleasure and commanded the picture to expand to show what lay beyond the walls of the bedroom where the young man stood. As if through the eyes of an eagle he saw a vast land, prosperous, and green with cattle grazing in vast herds.

Nestled within this verdant paradise was a gracious white hacienda, leading to which was a roadway passing under an arch marked with a stylised "L".

"Find him," he instructed his minions as he allowed the picture to fade.

LLLLL

Johnny paused in the act of picking up his shirt as a sudden chill swept the room causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Although it was only early morning, his room was warm and he looked around to see if he had inadvertently left a door or window open. He had the distinct feeling that he was being watched which, he told himself, was ridiculous given that there was no one in the room but him.

Something had set his nerves on edge, so much so that he jumped when his door flew open to admit his brother. His right hand instinctively flew to his hip where his gun would have been if he weren't safe in his own room. Scott saw the gesture and grinned.

"You're as jumpy as a cat this morning brother. Something got you spooked?"

Johnny concentrated on pulling on his shirt and buttoning it up. "Did no one ever teach you to knock?" he asked irritably.

Coming into the room Scott threw his arm around his brother's shoulders. "What's got you so cranky this morning? Come on, you'll feel better once you've had something to eat."

"There's nothing the matter with me," Johnny snapped, before relenting and throwing his brother an embarrassed smile. "Guess I just got out of bed on the wrong side this morning."

His eyes swept the room before he headed for the door, giving himself a good talking to about over active imaginations.

As the brothers approached the kitchen they could hear raised voices, easily identifiable as belonging to their father and Maria. Murdoch sounded annoyed and Maria was almost hysterical, her rapid fire Spanish rising to a crescendo of sound. Scott turned to his brother and raised an eyebrow, waiting for a translation. Johnny had stopped dead and had turned pale. If Scott hadn't known better he would have sworn that his brother looked scared.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling ill?"

Johnny pushed past his brother and entered the kitchen. Maria crossed herself and then gripped his arm tightly, still talking without seeming to pause for breath. Hopelessly lost, Scott looked to his father for enlightenment.

Murdoch was scowling. "She says the house has been invaded by evil spirits. She seems to be convinced that your brother is in some sort of danger. I have tried to explain to her that it's complete nonsense but she won't listen." He slammed his cup down on the table in irritation. "Johnny, perhaps you can talk some sense into her."

Johnny's blue eyes were wide and unfathomable as his feeling of unease returned. Maria took his continued silence as confirmation that he understood her fears. "You feel them too?" she asked before falling blessedly quiet.

Johnny looked from her to his father and brother. He backed up a few steps and shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about." He could see the hurt and puzzlement on Maria's face and had an overwhelming need to get out of the house. "I ain't that hungry." He turned quickly and left by the back door.

"Sometimes I don't know what gets into that boy." Murdoch remarked. "I don't want to hear any more talk of evil spirits or devil worshipers. Is that clear, Maria?"

"Si, senor."

Scott lingered in the kitchen after his father had left. Maria was standing at the sink with her back to him and he could have sworn that she was crying quietly. Although not nearly as demonstrative as his brother when it came to the elderly Mexican housekeeper, he was very fond of her and he didn't like to see her upset.

"I'm sure my father didn't mean to shout," he told her untruthfully, hoping to draw her into conversation.

Maria sniffed and turned to regard the patron's eldest son. "You will go and speak to Juanito. He was not telling the truth. Make him tell you. It is muy importante. You are the oldest. It is your job to look after him. See that you don't let him down."

Scott was stunned by the passion in the woman's voice and was somewhat insulted by the suggestion that he wouldn't protect his brother. Not that he had any idea what he was supposed to be protecting him from. "I'll always watch his back. You know you can trust me."

Sensing that she might have offended the young man Maria crossed to the table and patted his cheek. "Bueno."

LLLLL

It took Scott some considerable time and effort to track down his elusive brother. He eventually ran him to ground clearing out a stream bed. Johnny had taken off his shirt and was perspiring heavily in the hot sunshine. He had discarded his hat but Scott noticed that he was wearing his gunbelt, a fact which struck him as odd. During the early months it had been almost impossible to separate Johnny from his gun, even at the dinner table. As time had gone on his need to have the weapon constantly at his side had diminished and it was unusual now for him to wear it when performing manual labor. Johnny had looked up in response to the hoof beats before returning to the task at hand.

Scott dismounted and unhooked his canteen. "You look like you could use a drink. I've brought some food if you're hungry. It's not like you to miss breakfast."

Johnny accepted the canteen but not the implied question. He took a long, satisfying drink before pulling out a bandana and wiping his face and the back of his neck. "Don't you have things to do? I don't need no nursemaid whatever Maria says."

"Maybe not but I'd say you need someone to talk to. Something was bothering you before you got downstairs this morning. Come and sit down." Scott held out an encouraging hand to his brother.

Johnny sighed, recognising that he wasn't going to get rid of his inquisitive sibling without some sort of explanation. After they had settled in the shade of an overhanging rock Scott unwrapped the sandwiches he had been carrying in his saddle bags. Johnny accepted one, laid it in his lap and stared at it. After a while he began to tear the bread to shreds without realising it. White crumbs dotted his black leather trousers.

After watching his brother destroy his lunch for a while Scott gripped his arm and shook it to attract Johnny's attention. "You're meant to eat it you know," he admonished mildly.

"I need to get back to work," Johnny went to stand up, only to discover that Scott wasn't going to be that easy to dislodge. He sank back against the warm rock wall. "Look, Scott, it's nothing. I just had this really odd feeling this morning and then with Maria sounding off like that….it's nothing," he finished lamely.

"You don't jump at shadows, brother. This morning you looked like you'd seen a ghost."

"Yeah, well maybe I did."

Scott's mouth dropped open in amazement. He managed a strangled, "what?"

"When I was about twelve years old I met this old man. I was running wild you know, had no home or family, and he caught me stealing food. He took one look at my eyes and told me that I was the spawn of the devil. He said that one day I'd pay for my wickedness."

"You were just a child," Scott burst out. "Any adult who could say such a thing to a child is the one who's wicked. And I don't understand what that's got to do with what happened this morning."

Johnny watched the specks of light dancing across the hard ground in front of him. "I think that old man was right. I think the time's come for me to pay the devil his due."

LLLLL

Felix Ortega hesitated outside the door leading to the Priest's room. The black clad harbinger of doom had commandeered a bedroom in Don Pedro's hacienda. Despite being highly placed within the Priest's circle of retainers, Felix feared the man.

Prior to taking service Felix had been nothing more than a bully who had made his way with threats and intimidation. He had wandered from village to village taking what chances life presented before moving on. For a while he had worked for Don Pedro before being told that his services were no longer required after the Don found him mistreating a prize stallion. Felix had seen nothing wrong with his actions – the brute had needed to learn obedience – and had bitterly resented being dismissed.

He had been on the point of leaving the valley when the Priest appeared, preaching of the old gods, and he had appointed himself as the man's bodyguard. Words had not been necessary. He offered protection and, in return, he received respect and the satisfaction of watching the haughty Don grovelling before him.

He raised a hand to knock on the door. After being commanded to enter he found his master standing by the window watching the setting sun.

"You have news for me, Felix?"

"Si senor. We have found the man from your vision."

The Priest turned round, an exultant look on his face. "Tell me," he commanded and moved to sit in a chair in the corner of the room. Felix fell to his knees and bowed his head submissively.

"His name is Johnny Lancer. He, his father and brother own a ranch in California near a place called Morro Coyo."

"A rancher?" the Priest looked puzzled. "Why would the gods send me to look for a rancher?"

"There is more, lord. His mother was Mexican although his father is an Anglo. Until recently he went by another name – Johnny Madrid."

"Madrid?" The Priest hissed the name, causing the hairs on the back of Felix's neck to stand on end. "I have heard of him. He was a famous gunfighter."

"More than that." Felix was anxious to please. "He always took the part of the weak and needy. He was a legend throughout the border towns."

"A killer with a conscience," the Priest sneered. "A contradiction – a balance of light and dark - and a perfect sacrifice."

"How will you get him here? He is settled with his family in California. If you try and take him by force there will be trouble." Felix dared to ask.

"Trust in the gods, Felix. They will bring him to us and he will come of his own free will."

LLLLL

Three weeks had passed since Scott and Johnny's discussion by the stream bed. Despite Scott's best efforts his brother had refused to say any more about it. Scott had taken the problem to Murdoch who had dismissed it out of hand and had made it clear he wanted to hear no more about it. Maria continued to keep a careful eye on the youngest Lancer but there had been no more outbursts from her and Johnny acted as if nothing had happened.

As the days went by Scott put the whole episode out of his mind and life returned to normal. Saturday night rolled around and the brothers got ready to go into town.

Johnny checked his appearance in the mirror. He had opted to wear a white shirt with black buttons and embroidery, black pants and an intricate metal linked belt. He ran a brush through his unruly dark hair and reached for his gunbelt. For the past few weeks he had been keeping his gun in his room again. He knew his father didn't approve and he was trying to break himself of the habit. Each evening after work he would hang his gunbelt in the entrance hall intending to leave it there. Every night before going to bed he'd find himself unable to climb the stairs without taking his gun with him.

As he finished buckling his rig around his slim hips a chill swept through him. He froze in place, allowing his eyes to scan the room. For a split second he imagined that a man dressed all in black was watching him from deep within the mirror. He drew his gun, aimed and tightened his finger on the trigger. A sound behind him caught his attention. He swung round and found himself pointing his gun at his brother's face.

Johnny holstered his gun smoothly and turned away from Scott's shocked look.

"What was that for?" Scott's anger didn't quite hide the tremor in his voice. The family had learnt early on not to surprise Johnny or wake him up suddenly and they had all found themselves looking down the barrel of his colt on more than one occasion. It had been months since the last incident and Scott hadn't registered the fact that Johnny had returned to his old habit of keeping his gun with him in his room.

"Nothing," Johnny looked down and fiddled with the buckle of his gunbelt.

"I don't believe you," Scott was aggrieved. He waited in vain for Johnny to offer some kind of an explanation. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope. You coming?" Johnny enquired as he headed for the door. An irritated sigh was the only answer he received from his brother.

The ride into town started off quietly although it didn't take Johnny long to take Scott's mind off the incident in his bedroom. They had no firm plans for the evening beyond having a few beers and playing some cards. They had been working hard and making arrangements for the upcoming cattle drive. It had been a couple of weeks since Murdoch had let them off the leash long enough to get into town for a few hours on a Saturday night. They were determined to make the most of their freedom.

They had been in the saloon for almost an hour when Johnny looked up from yet another losing hand and saw him. The young Mexican man stood in the shadows to one side of the doors. His brown eyes locked with Johnny's sapphire ones and held his gaze for what felt like an eternity. The stranger looked away first and then shouldered his way out of the saloon through a group of drunken cowboys. They yelled insults after him before realising that Johnny was looking their way and shutting up.

Johnny laid his cards face down on the table, slouched back in his chair and considered what had just happened. He was brought back to reality by his brother yelling at him.

"Johnny? Wake up! Are you in or out?"

"I fold. The way my luck's been running tonight I'm gonna end up losing next month's wages as well as this months if I don't quit now." Johnny picked up his glass, drained the last of the beer and ran the back of his hand across his mouth. "I'm gonna get some air and then maybe big brother Scott'll buy the next round." He grinned at the other three men round the table and punched Scott lightly on the shoulder.

Scott grinned back. His luck with the cards had been as good as Johnny's had been bad. He had a tidy profit sitting in front of him. "I guess I could manage that and I'll even loan you some money 'till next pay day – at a reasonable rate of interest."

Johnny picked up his hat and stood up, stretching his back muscles. "Won't be long." He stepped outside into the evening air. As it was Saturday night there were quite a few people around. It took him a while to spot the man from the saloon who was standing in the entrance to an alleyway across the street.

After automatically checking the position of his gun and making sure the street was clear of horses and wagons Johnny strolled across. "Why were you watching me?"

The man, who Johnny reckoned looked no older than himself, lowered his eyes. "I apologise, Senor," he replied in Spanish. "I did not mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended," Johnny replied in the same language. "I am curious though."

"Senor Madrid…."

"It's Lancer," Johnny replied, a familiar sick feeling settling onto his stomach. "Johnny Lancer."

The young man looked confused. "I was told that you were Johnny Madrid."

Johnny sighed. "I was. What do you want?"

"We need your help."

"I'm not a gunfighter now, I'm a rancher. I don't give that sort of help any more."

A look of desperation appeared on the man's face and he reached out and gripped Johnny's sleeve. "Please listen to me. You are the only one who can help us. If you don't come with me many people will die."

Johnny shook free of the imprisoning hand and stepped away. "I can't help you. You'll have to find someone else." He heard his brother calling his name from across the street and turned to wave in acknowledgment.

"The Devil has come to our valley, Senor. Will you stand by and watch us all perish?"

The breath caught in Johnny's throat. "The Devil doesn't exist." He cursed himself for his lack of conviction.

"You are wrong. He is dressed in black and he brings fire and death."

Johnny heard his brother call him again with a note of impatience in his voice. "Meet me here tomorrow morning around 11." He turned and strode away before his common sense could tell him how stupid he was being.

Scott was frowning and peering across the street. "Who was that?"

"Just someone new in town looking for a job. I'm kinda tired, Scott, so I think I'll head back to the ranch." Johnny jerked backwards as his brother reached up to feel his forehead. "What're you doing that for?"

"I'm checking to see if you have a fever," Scott was only half joking. "It's Saturday night, brother. We have the day off tomorrow and the night is still young. Come back inside and have a drink."

"Leave me alone, Scott. I'll see you tomorrow."

Johnny was fully aware of his brother's concerned stare following his progress toward the livery stable. He wondered if Scott would come after him and was relieved to get to Barranca without any unwelcome company. As he rode out of town he wondered what price he was going to have to pay for the Devil having looked out for him all these years. In his heart he knew the answer.

LLLLL

It was mid morning before Scott emerged from his bedroom the next day. He had been so irritated with his little brother that he had drunk far too much and had stayed in town until the bartender had thrown everyone out of the saloon. He didn't remember much about the ride home and had woken a short time before to discover he had slept fully dressed except for his boots.

His head was pounding and he felt quite sick. He was hoping his father had gone to church so that he would have time to recover before having to face him. He quickly discovered that his luck from the night before had run out. Murdoch was sitting in the high backed leather chair by the fireplace reading a newspaper. A pot of coffee sat on the table at his elbow. The smell of the coffee started to do unpleasant things to Scott's stomach.

Murdoch looked up as he heard a faint groan issue from his eldest son. "Good morning. I take it you enjoyed yourself last night. Your brother was looking a great deal better than you when he went out earlier."

"Morning," Scott mumbled before sitting down on the sofa. "Johnny didn't stay in town long last night. Did he seem alright to you this morning?"

Murdoch picked up the pot and poured himself some coffee. "Want some?" He smiled at the nauseous expression on his son's face. "He was very quiet. I assumed he had a hangover, like you."

"That's not very likely. He only had a couple of beers and you know how much it takes to make Johnny feel ill." Years of drinking tequila, which Scott regarded as the worst kind of poison, had made Johnny highly resistant to the effects of alcohol. "Did he say where he was going?"

"He said he was going to meet someone. He didn't say who it was or where he was meeting them. Is there a problem?"

"I hope not." Scott hesitated to say anything about the incident the previous evening. He shrugged. "He was acting kind of odd last night. Before we went out I went to his room and he pointed his gun at me. In town he was talking to some stranger in the street and then said he was coming home."

Murdoch's expression darkened. "If this is more of that nonsense that you and Maria were spouting the other week I don't want to hear it."

"It's not nonsense," Scott shot back defensively. "And I was only telling you what happened. I think I'll see if there's anything to eat." As he left the great room and headed for the kitchen he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong and that his brother was in trouble.

Maria was alone in the kitchen when Scott got there. There was an expression of terror on her face. "Something bad is happening. Where is Juanito? How could you let him go out on his own?"

"Johnny is all grown up, Maria. I can't watch him every minute of the day." Even as he said it Scott felt guilty. Maria's words came back to haunt him. You are the oldest. It is your job to look after him.

"I'll talk to him when he gets home," Scott promised.

Murdoch, Scott and Teresa sat down to a light lunch with no sign of Johnny. The only one of the three to be concerned was Scott and he kept that concern to himself. The afternoon passed and still Johnny didn't appear. As it got close to dinner time Murdoch started to scowl and looked pointedly at the clock.

"Where's that boy got to? He knows better than to be late for dinner."

Dinner came and went, by which time Murdoch was in a towering rage. "I'll be having words with that young man when he gets back."

The uneasy feeling that had been plaguing Scott all day came to a head. "I don't think he's coming back."

LLLLL

The young man's name was Felipe. Johnny listened in silence as he told his story.

"You will come, senor?" he asked Johnny anxiously once he had finished explaining about the prolonged drought and the Priest's stranglehold over the valley.

"Si, I'll come and if we're gonna be travelling together you'd better start calling me Johnny. Go over to the cantina and get something to eat. I've got some things to do before I leave." Johnny dug some coins out of his pocket and offered them to Felipe.

Felipe was too hungry to be proud and he accepted the coins gratefully. "Gracias senor….Johnny."

Johnny walked slowly to the jail hoping to find Val. A heavy weight lay on his heart. He had left Lancer that morning with a feeling of absolute certainty that he wouldn't be returning. Now he wanted to leave his family some word of farewell.

"What're you doin' here?" Val asked grumpily. He had met up with Scott in the saloon after Johnny had left the previous night and wasn't feeling a great deal better than the blond Lancer.

"Nice to see you too Val," Johnny grinned as he took in the green tinge to his friend's complexion. "Gotta leave town for a few days, amigo. Can I leave a letter for Murdoch and Scott?"

Val sat up a little straighter. "You running out on them, Johnny boy?"

Johnny sighed. "Not in the way you're thinking. Something's come up and I don't have time to go back to the ranch."

"What's come up," Val persisted, not liking the air of sorrow surrounding his friend.

"Best if you don't know. I don't want anyone coming after me."

Val slammed his fist down on the desk, sending an untidy stack of old wanted posters sliding to the floor. "You're goin' to Mexico. Dammit, Johnny, it's still not safe for you down there. What could be so all fired important that it'd make you cross the border?"

Johnny flinched at Val's anger. "Trust me, Val. I wouldn't be going if I had a choice."

"I'll give you a choice." Val's voice had risen perceptively in volume. "You can either ride home and speak to Murdoch and Scott or I can lock you up and send for them."

Johnny knew his friend was only making threats because he was worried so he kept hold of his temper. "You ain't locking me up, Val. This is something I've got to do. It's time for me to repay a debt."

Val studied the young man. Determination was written into every line of his body. He had the uncomfortable feeling that if he tried to restrain his friend he'd find himself looking down the barrel of Johnny's gun. He slumped back in his chair. "What d'you want me to do?"

"You got some paper and a pencil?" Johnny asked.

Val searched his desk drawer, finally locating the requested items. Johnny hastily scrawled a note which he then folded in half.

"Don't read it," he warned before lowering his eyes against the affronted look on Val's face. "Get someone to take it out to the ranch in the morning. That'll give me enough of a head start. If Scott or Murdoch say they're gonna try and find me you've got my permission to lock them up for their own protection." A tentative smile appeared on Johnny's face. "It's not safe for them to come after me."

"Don't do this," Val begged his friend.

Johnny stood up to leave. "Take care of yourself, Val."

He closed the door softly behind him leaving Val with the feeling, deep in his gut, that his friend had no intention of ever returning home.

LLLLL

Johnny looked in amazement at the amount of food spread out on the table. Felipe was eating enthusiastically. Johnny understood hunger. He had lost count of the number of nights he had gone to sleep with spasms in his stomach brought on by too little food.

As soon as he'd had money in his pockets he'd spent it on food – any food – trying to wipe out the memory of being hungry. On more than one occasion he had eaten more than his stomach could cope with, only to be left feeling sick and wretched.

He'd learnt quickly to pace himself and, for the last few months since returning to Lancer, he hadn't had to worry where his next meal was coming from.

He slipped into a chair opposite Felipe who barely acknowledged his arrival. "You need to slow down," Johnny advised. "You're gonna be real sick later on if you don't."

He saw a flash of rebellion. The young man had spirit – deeply buried perhaps – but still there. This came as no surprise to Johnny. To have travelled so far from home on his own had taken courage.

Rosita bustled over, smiling at one of her favorite customers. "Buonas diaz, Juanito. Esta usted bien?" Are you well?

Johnny smiled and answered her enquiry as to the state of his health in the affirmative. She began to clear the empty dishes from the table. Johnny grabbed a plate and a couple of tortillas, eating absent mindedly.

"Tell me about Don Pedro. Is he a good man?"

"Si, the patron is a good and a fair man." Felipe's expression was open and warm. "He lives alone since his wife died and he has no other familia. He treats his workers well and he adores his horses."

Johnny's interest was caught. "Horses?"

"They are magnificent. Many of them are palominos and all are of the very best blood lines. His familia have been breeding horses for generations. You will see them and you will be amazed."

Johnny looked up at Rosita who was waiting patiently by his right shoulder. "Can I get you anything else?" she enquired.

"No, Rosita, we need to get going," Johnny looked meaningfully at Felipe who produced the coins Johnny had given him earlier. Johnny kissed Rosita on the cheek and led the way back into the street.

"I assume you've got a horse." Johnny fetched Barranca from the hitching rail, noting the approving looks Felipe was giving his beloved horse. Perhaps when all this was over Barranca could find a home with Don Pedro or even Felipe himself. They walked together to where Felipe had left his mount. The animal was sound and serviceable but certainly not one of those the young man had just been describing so enthusiastically.

As they rode out of town Johnny was mapping the journey in his mind. They were headed for a part of Mexico he had never visited. Given the outcome he was expecting from this journey it wouldn't much matter if anyone recognised him as Johnny Madrid.

As soon as the town boundaries were behind him he mentally shed the name 'Lancer.' That was a different life – a good life – which had lasted for too short a time and which was now over.

LLLLL

Johnny pushed them hard, only stopping once night had fallen. He was almost certain he could trust Val not to go racing off to Lancer with the news that he was leaving but he wasn't taking any chances. He told Felipe to take care of the horses while he set up camp. He watched the young man carefully and was pleased to see the effort he put in. Even Barranca seemed to have taken to him and that told Johnny a lot about his travelling companion.

Long after Felipe had settled down for the night Johnny sat and stared into the fire. He felt surprisingly at peace with himself. He reckoned he'd had a good run and he'd been lucky enough to find his family before the end. His only regret was that he hadn't been able to say good-bye to them properly. He could just imagine the looks he would have received had he told them he was going to Mexico to take on the Devil. If he didn't know better he'd say he was crazy too. His one fear was that his family would come after him. There was nothing they could do to help and he wasn't prepared to stand around and watch them get hurt. He had been very careful not to tell them exactly where he was going. Knowing that he was headed for Mexico wouldn't be of much use to them. The area he was going to was remote and wasn't close to any of the normal routes across the border.

The flames flickered and a voice, filled with hunger, entered Johnny's mind. "Soon," it said. "We'll meet soon." Johnny shuddered and pulled his jacket tighter around him. He needed to get away from the eyes watching from the fire. He stood up and walked into the welcoming darkness.

LLLLL

"What do you mean – you don't think he's coming back?" Murdoch bellowed. "What sort of trouble has he got himself into this time?"

"You're the one that doesn't want to talk about it," Scott retorted.

"Not more of that ridiculous talk about evil spirits. Has everyone in this house gone mad? Just tell me where your brother's gone." Murdoch's temper, already on a short fuse, threatened to explode in Scott's face.

"If I knew, I'd tell you. If he's not back by morning I'm going into town. I think this has something to do with that man I saw him talking to last night."

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" Murdoch looked closely at his normally level headed and practical son. "You really think there is something unnatural going on."

Scott ran a hand through his well groomed blond hair and frowned. "I don't like it any more than you do. I wasn't brought up to believe in ghosts or evil spirits but there are some very old and strong traditions in Mexico that do believe in these things. Johnny was brought up in Mexico. Who knows what he was told as a child." Scott turned an accusing stare on his father, holding him at least partially responsible for the fact that Johnny hadn't been brought up safely at Lancer.

"He's not a child anymore. He hasn't been a child for far too long. Whatever stories he might have been told all those years ago…..well, he can't still believe them."

"What if they're not just stories?" Scott was having a hard time believing he could think that, let alone say it.

"Now you're just being foolish." Murdoch snapped before getting a good look at the torment on his eldest son's face. "We'll both ride into town tomorrow and get some answers. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for Johnny's behaviour."

LLLLL

The next day, as Johnny and Felipe got steadily further and further away, Scott and Murdoch arrived in Green River. They checked the livery stable, hoping to find Barranca. They were disappointed to find that there was no sign of Johnny or his horse. As they hesitated outside, debating where to look first, they heard Val calling out to them.

The sheriff hurried down the street, relieved that he wouldn't have to ride all the way to the ranch to deliver Johnny's message. As he got closer he slowed down, suddenly assailed by doubts. He had been in two minds about riding out to Lancer as soon as Johnny had left him. In the end he had been unable to betray his friend's trust.

"Morning Mr Lancer, Scott. If you're looking for Johnny he ain't here. He left this for you." He held out the piece of paper. Murdoch and Scott exchanged concerned glances before Murdoch took it, unfolded it and hastily scanned the contents. He handed it over to Scott. The note was short and to the point. Johnny had left and wasn't coming back. He gave no reasons and didn't say where he was going.

"Do you know what it says?" Murdoch scowled at Val.

"He told me not to read it. I know he's gone and I reckon he's gone to Mexico. Leastways he didn't deny it."

Scott's hands were shaking. How could he protect his little brother if he just took off like this? A wave of compulsion washed over him. Ignoring his father and the sheriff he turned and walked back to where he had left his horse. He was pulled to a halt before he could mount up.

"Where are you going?" Murdoch tightened his grip on his son's arm.

"I have to find him. It's my job to look after him….I'm the eldest." Scott spoke as if reciting a lesson learned by rote. "I've got to watch his back." He tried to pull away; no longer aware of where he was or to whom he was speaking. His entire being was filled with a need to find and protect his brother. He had no idea where Johnny had gone but he did know that he could find him if only he could get rid of whatever it was that was preventing him from moving.

"Val," Murdoch whispered. "What's wrong with him?"

Scott's normally placid blue eyes were stormy as he reached over to prise the fingers off his arm. Murdoch Lancer was a powerful man. In normal circumstances Scott shouldn't have been able to dislodge his hand. Murdoch felt his grip loosening and a fear assailed him that he was about to lose both his sons. He reached out with his other hand only to find that he was too late and that Scott was now free and backing away from him.

"I don't know what's the matter with him but I reckon you'd better do something real quick or he's gonna run out on us." Val advised.

Murdoch drew in a deep breath and did the only thing he could. He hit his son and caught him as he slid, unconscious, to the ground.

Tbc