A/N: All the floating POVs and adverbs you can handle! This is complete at 8 chapters and I'll post the rest when I can get them formatted. Thanks!

Responsibilities

Chapter 1

Setting up the hiring table in front of Baldomero's general store had been a stroke of genius on Johnny's part. Everyone eventually ended up there for one thing or another even if just to pass on a bit of stray gossip. His first choice had been the saloon but that establishment's owner didn't take too kindly to a rival businessman setting up shop on his turf. Still, the barkeep did offer to send any customer interested in a job over to him at the store.

This was such a customer and beggars couldn't afford to be choosers, Johnny reminded himself. "Twenty-five dollars a month plus beans," he remarked to the man standing in front of him. A sudden flash of a gap-toothed smile along with a whiff of whiskey- tainted breath told him that his offer had been accepted. At this rate, the hiring for the spring round-up and subsequent cattle drive would be complete by mid-afternoon and thoughts of a cool beer suddenly beckoned him. Spring was a busy time of year for the Lancer ranch, but with Murdoch offering top dollar, the hiring was fairly easy in Morro Coyo despite the fact that every other rancher was hiring men as well.

Trying to uncork real money from the old man in the first place had been the hard part, but Johnny had finally won that argument after much persuasion. He laid the fact that he had to do any arguing at all directly at Scott's feet. His brother had conveniently shied off to Sacramento on ranching business for Murdoch before the hiring was to take place. Johnny smiled to himself; he'd won the bet that he and Scott had made together that Murdoch would eventually cough up the extra coinage to hire more men. He'd make real sure that older brother paid in full when he arrived back home in a week or so.

Johnny scraped back the rickety chair borrowed from the general store and gestured impatiently for the man to make his mark on the sheet of paper. As he was giving directions to the new hire, his eyes drifted to two men riding into town. They reined up at the saloon and took their time looking around at the dusty clapboard buildings that made up Morro Coyo.

The first man wore a black beard and had long hair flowing from under a dusty slouch hat pulled deeply forward over his eyes. A long, battered great coat in what Johnny surmised used to be the color grey, completed his outfit. Around his hips was a gun belt, slung low and tight. The dun-colored horse he straddled was not much to look at, but appeared to be serviceable. The second man was much slighter in build and younger looking than the first, with fair hair bristling from under a straw hat. Regardless of how old he appeared to be, the kid wore the same deadly-looking weapon, although this one rode high on beaten-up overalls and was worn to the front of the boy on the right side. Across his saddle bounced a full sack of possessions and the usual bedroll was tied on back. Both of them dismounted and walked into the saloon. His throat dry and his interest piqued, Johnny stepped off Baldomero's front stoop and ambled over to get a beer.

Just as he cleared the swinging doors of the saloon, the bartender nodded his way. "That'd be him. That's the man to see about a job." He hailed Johnny, "These two'er lookin' for work."

Johnny regarded the two men thoughtfully for a moment and said, "Gents, why don't we sit down and have a beer?" The older of the two men met the appraisal with unflinching black eyes. Up close, Johnny could see that rough pock mocks had gouged the man's cheeks well into his rough beard line. This man was tall, taller than Johnny and barrel-chested. The stranger sat down heavily and threw his hat into an empty chair. The younger of the two threw Johnny a lopsided grin and copied the elder man, swinging his gun out of the way before hooking a leg over the back of the chair to sit down.

"Name's Baker, Jeff Baker," the black-haired man began in a surprisingly soft voice. He jerked his head toward the blond boy, "This here is Sid Davis and we're looking for work. Man at the bar said you might be hiring on."

"That depends," began Johnny, "have you ever done ranch work before?" As he finished speaking, Johnny glanced at the man's sidearm, visible on the man's leg under the table.

Baker sat back in his chair, eyes flashing. "The fact is, Sid and I have done all sort of work. Some on farms, some on ranches and…even some hiring out to those who needed the help." Baker waited a beat and issued a thinly veiled challenge. "But I 'spect you might know something about that yourself." The two gunmen regarded each other for long moments before the tense mood was broken by the nervous bartender, who appeared at the table delivering their drinks. Baker picked up the beer and stared into its foam. "Truth be told, we've been drifting a while and could use a job to store up some cash. We don't aim on making any trouble." Hard flinty eyes met Johnny's once more.

Johnny studied the men from under the brim of his hat. He'd seen men like them before, down-on-the-luck drifters who turned to just about anything to make their way through life. Hell, Baker was right, he'd managed to find himself in that same situation a time or two. Johnny figured that he'd be around to keep an eye on them to make sure they kept their act straight and it would be readily apparent after a few short days if they couldn't keep up with the workload. He gave a short nod to the two men, "You'll do. Drink up, then we'll head out. We start early and you're on Lancer time, now."

~o~O~o~

Murdoch sat back in the saddle, pushed his hat a few inches off his sweaty forehead and let the sounds of ranching fill his head. He thoroughly enjoyed the view, this part of Lancer with its fertile range and wide-open vistas never failed to capture his attention. He had ridden down, ostensibly to get Johnny's report on branding activities and movement of the herd, but had stopped to spend a few precious moments looking over the land that he, and now his sons, owned. Contentment flowed into him and it was a good feeling. Murdoch spied Johnny amongst the drovers and rode down to meet him. He reached his son just as Johnny released an entangled, bawling calf back to the herd. He leaned over the saddle horn and asked, "Giving you a little trouble, son?"

Taking his hat off to swipe at the sweat streaming into his eyes, Johnny turned to his father. "Murdoch, remind me to tell you sometime how stupid cows really are…."

A wide grin on his face, Murdoch chuckled, "Ah, there's no need to John, I've known that since before you were born. But I was wondering when you and Scott would figure it out…."

"Well, as of today, you can check my name off that list." He smiled slyly up at his father. "We'll have to wait on Scott, though. At least until he comes home tomorrow and can experience the thrill for himself."

The snapping crack of a whip down range drew Murdoch's interest. He watched intently as a few men, hired by Johnny the week before, rode point on the slowly moving bunch of red and white Herefords. "How are the new hires getting along?"

Johnny looked at the men and his grin faded. "They're slow but able enough workers, I suppose. Both Baker and Davis mostly keep to themselves. On Tuesday, the boys thought they'd play a joke on Baker; he's the one with the beard. Davis, the light haired kid, tags along beside Jeff like a shadow and neither of them saw it coming. There were some fists flying afterwards and one of the hands said that Baker flashed a gun but no one's come forward. Cipriano doesn't trust Baker and thinks they'd been sharing a bottle beforehand. He says the whole thing threw a wedge between the two men and the rest of the boys. There's some bad feelings running in the bunkhouse all right, but it's too early to tell how bad."

"It sounds like the hands might have gotten their noses out of joint when the joke didn't go through as planned, but I trust Cipriano. Keep me posted. The last thing we need is to lose any workers." With that said Murdoch wheeled his horse around and rode away from the herd, leaving Johnny to contemplate on the futures of Jeff Baker and Sid Davis at the Lancer ranch.

~o~O~o~

That evening, after Scott had finished bedding down his horse, he found that he was anxious to hear the sounds of family conversation again. Johnny's rolling laugh accompanied by Murdoch's deeper one met his ears as he neared the hacienda. The wonderful smell of Maria's roasted beef surely didn't hurt either, and he stepped up his pace. He had the good fortune to get his work finished early in Sacramento, and while this trip didn't pan out to be the great opportunity it seemed to portent, it did make a satisfying profit. He rubbed his hands together and smiled; right now he was in the mood for family, food and a soft, clean bed, in that order.

"Scott, you're back early!" exclaimed Murdoch. He yelled out towards the kitchen, "Maria, we have another mouth to feed! How did the trip go?"

"Yeah, Scott, tell us how the trip went; maybe it'll save us from hearing another story about Teresa's new hat," Johnny deadpanned and was rewarded with a swift kick under the table from the young girl.

Scott nodded to Johnny and favored Teresa with a quick wink and a sheepish smile. "The trip went well, not exactly how you planned it, Murdoch, but well enough I think. At least we were able to sell the mineral rights at a fair market price. How have things been here?"

Johnny wore a fat smirk and took the opportunity to answer for his father. "I'll tell you how things are going…the round-up is behind schedule and some of the men are already fighting. That fence line on the south side has your name written all over it and your crew's already been picked out for tomorrow. Welcome home."

Scott took the gentle gibes in stride and groaned for effect. "Well, brother, it's always good to be needed." As the conversation ebbed and flowed around the dinner table, Scott found himself pulled into the dance of it once more and was grateful.

~o~O~o~

Scott had approached the craggy problem of the south side fence line with true military precision and he organized his crew as such. Unfortunately, those well-laid plans had collapsed after two of the men were pulled off to attend another problem on the far side of the ranch. It was time to fall back and regroup, a tactic that he had intimate knowledge of and had practiced many times before. After getting a promise from Johnny to send more men his way later in the day, he forged ahead.

By mid-afternoon, he drew off his stained hat and emptied half a canteen-full of water over his sweat-soaked hair and neck. Scott threw his head back, sending spritzes of water flying, and cocked an eye at the bright, yellow sun hanging in the sky. He sighed, resigned to the fact that this job wasn't getting done today. He and the crew had been hard at it, though for every two steps forward there seemed to be one back. The two replacements had crested the ridge, and couldn't be a more welcoming sight to him, but several of the hands in the crew had different sentiments.

The men his brother had sent looked to be the newest hires at the Lancer ranch, and although Scott had heard about them, he hadn't yet met them. Last evening, Johnny had filled him in about the incident that had occurred at the bunkhouse; he also learned that Murdoch had quickly dismissed it as men letting off steam after a hard day's work. It was no guess what Cipriano thought of the two; he had voiced his feelings in loud, expletive-ridden Spanish when asked about them. Scott really had no opinion on the matter; he just wanted this job accomplished and if they could hold it together to do that then so much the better.

tbc