Sam woke me up early this morning so after feeding her I went back to bed for a few more hours sleep when a vision popped into my head. It was of Johnny when he was draped over the ottoman playing chess with Jelly. Well, I have made some changes and hope y'all like them. If you do be grateful to Sam otherwise I might not have had the vision.
L * A * N * C * E * R
The Patrón of Lancer relaxed into his leather chair ready to enjoy a glass of his favorite Scotch, the latest newspaper from San Francisco, and his family.
Glancing around the room he grinned at Teresa’s pout as she stuck her finger through the newest hole in a blue and white flowered shirt. His older son was comfortably stretched out on the sofa and based on his expression seemed to be enjoying his new book. Murdoch was grateful that at least one of his sons loved reading as much as he did.
When he heard a frustrated sigh he turned to the old man sitting opposite himself. Jelly’s arms were crossed over his chest, his foot taped on the tile floor, and his angry glare was aimed at the figure draped over the ottoman.
Murdoch covered his mouth to hide the smile he couldn’t hold back. “Problem, Jelly?”
The old man ignored his boss as he reached out to smack the sleeping man, “Wake up will ya, it’s yer turn.”
Johnny roused, shaking his head, “Yeah, okay.” He reached out and moved his bishop.
“Ya ain’t gonna think ‘bout it first?” Jelly’s question went unanswered as Johnny had already resumed his position on the ottoman-asleep.
By now Teresa and Scott were watching the battle between the chess players. Each one trying not to laugh knowing it would only escalate Jelly’s frustration, and possibly cause severe damage to their brother.
Murdoch was thoroughly enjoying himself when the idea struck him. He looked down at the exposed, leather clad, butt of his younger son. Oh, he felt so tempted, it would be so easy, the victim is completely unaware, and…
While Teresa and Scott were busy watching Jelly fume over the chess board they failed to notice Murdoch’s actions.
The Patrón slowly folded the newspaper into a tight roll, drew back his arm, and,,, WHOMP!
Jolted awake, Johnny quickly rolled over and at the same time grabbed for the nonexistent gun.
Everyone erupted into laughter. Murdoch just smacked his hand with his weapon and gloated that he had outdrawn the great Johnny Madrid.
In full Madrid mode, he glared at his attacker and uttered a threat that would go down in Lancer history.
This story is still shared as a cautionary tale among the Lancer decedents.
Lancer Ranch June 2016
Murdoch’s great grandson sat in the old leather chair regaling his grandson, for the fifth time, of the famous Murdoch - Madrid showdown.
“Johnny was jolted awake and he quickly rolled over ready to drawdown on his attacker, but unfortunately there was no gun on his hip.”
Young Johnny drew is toy gun, “Like this Grandpa?” He loved the stories about Johnny. Everyone said he looked just like his namesake with his black hair, vivid blue eyes, and a real knack for getting into trouble.
“Yes Johnny, just like that.” Grandpa Scott smiled at the would-be gunfighter, then continued with the story.
“Not happy about being attacked from behind and hearing all the laughter at his expense, he put on his best Madrid glare and uttered this threat to his father…
“Murdoch, you sure are lucky I don’t have my gun.”