Written by Desert Sun - June, 2004
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(Please note: the characters of the Lancer television series do not belong to me and were used without permission. This was written for fun, not profit.)
Johnny eased the door open then leaned against the casing, unbuckled his spurs, and slipped them from the heels of his boots. Soundlessly, he entered the dimly-lit kitchen and crossed to the stove. He lifted the lid off the pot that sat at one corner and smiled. Teresa had seen he wouldn't go hungry.
The ham and beans tasted good with a little of Maria's salsa spread over the top. He licked his lips and savored the flavor of the last bite as he filled the empty frying pan with water from the kettle that had been left heating on the stove - more of Teresa's thoughtfulness.
His hunger satisfied, Johnny quietly walked down the hall and stopped at doorway into the living room where he could see a light had been left burning. He stepped in to put it out and halted when he heard the chair behind the desk squeak just before the grandfather clock began chiming.
With upper lip clamped between his teeth, he slowly shook his head. He should have known his old man would be waiting up for him. Of course, if asked, Murdoch would have some excuse for being up until midnight.
Making enough noise that his father would know he was home, Johnny went upstairs. Upon seeing the streak of light disappear from beneath his brother's door across the hall from his own, he again smiled. Scott would never own up to waiting up either.
Sure is good to be home, he thought.