The Saga of Miles Forrest

Brrr, I was cold.  We had a good, wet snow last night and the dampness had gotten into my bones.  Doc Jones laughed when I came in to huddle around the stove at the Diner.  He told me it was old age creeping in and once it did not even a stove could get rid of it.
       Lucas had shoveled off the walk in front of the jail, and I went down to Foster’s store to help Darnelle shovel in front.  I paid Connor Blackstone a dime to clean off in front of the diner, then go up and shovel in front of the Foster home.  Wilson was doing some better, but he was mostly confined to a wheelchair.  I would try to visit him once a week or so, and he would walk with a cane from the wheelchair to a rocker that sat in front of the fireplace.
       Doc and I was sitting in front of the stove; I was still trying to warm up while he was enjoying a biscuit along with a big piece of sausage.  I had already eaten as I had come to the diner early to get the stoves fired.  Molly was wanting to make several pies and Emelda would be in before six.  Marta would show up shortly after.  She hadn’t been real friendly since our discussion a few weeks back, but came and did her job without saying much.  I think she and Lucas were on the outs as he was staying at the jail.  Without a city marshal there were few in the cells.  Either Charlie or Mateo would try to be here for the weekend to keep control over the bar crowd.
       Since Masterson had taken over in Silverton Charlie hadn’t gone back to visit.  Mateo was over in Telluride and when he came back Charlie would go on up to Silverton to check things out.  He was good about letting Masterson work the town and he would hear complaints surrounding the mining camps.  With this snow some of the miners who hadn’t shown any color would pack up and go to Silverton or on down here to Durango.  Overall the past couple of weeks had been very quiet.
       I was working on my second cup of coffee.  My toes were beginning to warm and the chill from my body had now passed.  Doc was wrong, I thought when John Newsome came in the door.  I hadn’t talked to John much since Foster’s stroke.  He went to all the tables in the room greeting those sitting at them.  He was doing some politicking as next week was election time.  This was the first time he had faced an opponent–Theodore Howell was running against him.  
       Howell had come to town from Omaha and set up a hardware business.  From what I knew about him, he was hard-working and a straight-forward businessman.  On a day-to-day basis he was much more friendly than John.  His wife Sally stayed in the background as far as the store was concerned but she was always helping out when someone needed assistance.  She had become good friends with Betty Chapman and would often sing during the Sunday morning service.  That alone didn’t set well with Jewelene Newsome.  There’s talk going about allowing women to vote.  I haven’t thought through the issue yet, but one thing for certain it would certainly make elections more interesting.
       Newsome finally made it to our table and without asking set himself down.  “Doc, how are you this crisp, snowy morning?” he said enthusiastically slapping Doc on the shoulder.  “Miles, how about filling me up a cup of coffee from the stove.”
       I ignored him by asking, “What brings you out on this cold morning, John?”  
       “Oh, just thought I’d come visit the folks of this fine community.  The stores in the competent hands of Jewelene,” he said looking past me at the coffeepot on the stove.
       “Miles, he’s stumping,” related Doc.  “Election’s next week and John is out shaking hands and kissing babies.”  Doc chuckled, then added looking seriously at Newsome, “Be careful, John.  Don’t be getting the impetigo.”
       He frowned at Doc.  “What are you talking about?”
       Before Doc could answer Marta came by.  “Would you like some coffee, Senor Newsome?” she asked kindly.
       “Yes, I guess Miles didn’t hear me.  I would appreciate a cup of your fine brew.”  Doc and I looked at each other; he rolled his eyes and I ducked my head down toward the table.  John didn’t pay much attention to Marta after replying.  She gave a slight frown then went to get a cup.
       “I hear the famous Bat Masterson is the marshal up in Silverton.  I would certainly like to meet him.  Maybe he could come down this weekend and give my campaign a plug,” he said.  Marta brought him coffee and he didn’t thank her.  He took a taste and frowned.  “How about some honey!” he hollered.
       “Train’s runnin’,” I ventured.  “You could get on this afternoon and come back tomorrow.  I’m sure Mr. Masterson would love to meet you,” I said with some sarcasm.
       It was Doc’s turn, “John, you’re not running for governor.  I don’t think someone of Mr. Masterson’s reputation would want to leave his duties up in Silverton.”
       Marta had brought some honey and Newsome was spooning it into his coffee and stirring it.  “Hmm, I suppose you’re right.  He does have to fulfill his obligations.”
       I looked at John, the spoon banging against the cup was getting on my nerves.  “John, have you ever been to Silverton?”
       He looked at me like I was crazy, then he took a sip.  “This coffee’s cold!”

Echoes From the Campfire

He remembered the pungent smell of cedar, the deep red glow of dying fires, the sound of wind in the mesquite.”
                    –Louis L’Amour  (Flint)


        “The voice of the Lord divides the flames of fire.”
                    –Psalm 29:7 (NKJV)
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Friends, family, acquaintances, loved ones, and strangers–this will be the last Campfire for a week or so.  Yep, taking off again.  That’s a benefit of retirement; I’m not tied down to a desk, career, boss, or other.  I can’t really pack up and go whenever I please, but my calendar certainly is more flexible than ever before.  
       If you’ve been around many campfires you’ll know that at times a breeze will sweep through causing the fire to flames and send burning embers into the sky.  Most of these come to naught, however, they can be dangerous and cause a fire where they land.  (Ponder that)  So perhaps the thoughts this morning might be called embers from the campfire, or embers from the flame.
       See, there’s a thought right there.  We have a nice fire, our flame is burning brightly.  Those around are warm, secure, comfortable and we have been able to cook over it.  Then a wind (the Holy Spirit) sweeps through lifting some brightly burning embers into the air.  Some will land and not be noticed, but there may be a few to land and catch fire.  The flames from your campfire have now spread to someone else.  Hmmm, not bad.
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Many years ago I was asked if I knew anything about the Book of Barnabas.  Really I was sort of surprised, but then knowing the character of the person asking I figured it fit.  I replied, not ugly, that I did not, that I didn’t even have time enough to study Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John to be concerned about Barnabas.  I told them if I was a student of church history I would be more interested.  
       Since that time I have become slightly familiar with the writings of a “Barnabas.”  There is the Gospel of Barnabas, and there is the Epistle of Barnabas.  Some believe that the Barnabas of Acts wrote the Gospel, while few will say the same regarding the Epistle.  Regardless, I am still not going to take the time to study either.  They were not considered for the canon which we now have–neither the Protestant or the Catholic.
       Saying all of that I did come across a saying that is attributed to Barnabas and it is worth pondering.

                    “Let us keep ourselves with the utmost strictness from any kind of wrongdoing; otherwise wrongdoing will get the better of us. Let there be hatred in us for the errors of this world, so that there may be love for us in the world to come. We must not give such rein to our natural instincts that we feel ourselves free to mix at will with rogues and sinners, or we shall only grow to resemble them.”
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           “He liked the wind in the grass, himself. And the cedars, too, and the smell of them…. Gnarled, twisted by wind, rooted often enough in rock, still it lived and grew. It took a sight of living and hardship to grow like that, but when they did grow they grew strong, and they lasted.”
                                –Louis L’Amour  (Conagher)

Conagher is one of my favorite Louis L’Amour books and the movie is also among my favorites.  The above quotation brings to mind a man who has worked all his life and now is a gnarled old man.  He is still rooted, and has enjoyed life–even the toils and troubles.  There is the wind again–for the Holy Spirit has guided the man’s life, sometimes working on him in ways that he never began to consider.
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I will mention that we are taking our middle granddaughter Kylee with us on this trip.  It will be a “college day” for her as we will be visiting the campus of Evangel University and attending the Homecoming activities.  This is Annie’s 50th homecoming anniversary.  Kylee found my old letter sweater and letter jacket and is going to wear them.  Fitting for homecoming, don’t you think?
       In the meantime, keep praying, keep studying God’s Word, be ready and alert, and don’t go drinking any bad coffee.

Echoes From the Campfire

Juries like good stories. They don’t always just listen for the truth.”
                    –Mel Odom  (The Pecos Undertaker)

        “Then it shall come to pass, because you listen to these judgments, and keep and do them, that the Lord your God will keep with you the covenant and the mercy which He swore to your fathers.”
                    –Deuteronomy 7:12(NKJV)
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How to Live in a Pagan, Apostate, and Foolish World

Key Verse:  “We know that we are of God, and that the whole world lies in the power of the evil one.”  –1 John 5:19 (NASB)

I recall one of the cartoons from the old comic strip “Pogo”.  In that particular strip he came up with the conclusion, “We have met the enemy and they are us.”  Too much, in fact, most of the time we fight ourselves.  There is a war between the spirit and the flesh (see Romans 7).  By now from our studies you should realize that we are only pilgrims traveling through this old world.  The problem is that often we give into the pleasures that world has to offer and thus we take on the cares of the world, the anxieties of the world, and if not real careful, the character of the world.
       Most attacks are upon the written Word and the living Word–Jesus Christ.  In saying that I would ask where is your focus?  Is it upon the world and what it has to offer, or is it upon Jesus Christ?  Is your focus on things materialistic, but on the spiritual?  Is it upon what the world has to offer in this life or is it upon heaven and the kingdom of God?
       Christianity is not a mystical feeling or experience.  It is not getting in touch with the “Unseen,” or the “Force,” or the “heart of the Universe.”  It is repenting of one’s sins and accepting Jesus Christ, the Son of God, as Savior.  Christianity is not just saying that Jesus was a good teacher, or that He has wonderful ideas.  Why, the demons recognize and confess that.  This is why theology and doctrine is important–we cannot be ignorant of the Scriptures.  Remember John said that the “antichrists” came out from among them.

                    “By this you know the Spirit of God:  every Spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God; and every spirit that does not confess Jesus is not from God; this is the spirit of the antichrist, of which you have heard that it is coming, and now it is already in the world.”
                                   –1 John 4:2-3 (NASB)

       Often these “antichrists” do not deny Christ, however, they misrepresent Christ.  Beware of what you hear and then check it out by the Bible.  Again, I must emphasize, know your Bible!  Read it, contemplate upon it!  Practice it!  
       Look around you.  Do you not see the spirit of the antichrist at work?  Chaos, confusion, disorder, hatred, terror, immorality, are these not the marks of someone who is antichrist?  It is for us, the light, to go through this world knowing and proclaiming Christ.  “Let us therefore declare His death, His resurrection, and His all-sufficiency until He comes again.”  (Lloyd-Jones)
       Take heart–we are not of the world.  Get that, know that, hold on to that and don’t be swayed by what the world says and has to offer.

                    “You are from God, little children, and have overcome them; because greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world.  They are from the world; therefore they speak as from the world, and they world listens to them.  We are from God; he who knows God listens to us; he who is not from God does not listen to us.  By this we know the spirit of truth and the spirit of error.”
                                   –1 John 4:4-6 (NASB)

Paul warns us not to listen to the voices of the world no matter how good they may sound.  Be careful of opinions and again I would say know the Word of God.  I always take notes on the Pastor’s sermon and have often joked saying, “that’s to make sure you’re not preaching heresy.”  It is a joke, but again, it is not.  I will put question marks on areas I need to ponder and go back to the Scripture to confirm.  Watch out for heresy, for false doctrine, for outright lies.

                    “But even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you a gospel contrary to what we have preached to you, he is to be accursed!”
                                   –Galatians 1:8 (NASB)

The Saga of Miles Forrest

The rush was over except for three miners sitting over in the corner, and two of Thompson’s punchers who were in town to pick up some supplies for his ranch.  I had been talking with them, telling them to tell Thompson that Upton Shaw was now deceased.

       Molly and Marta were sitting at my table along with Doc Jones and his wife Edith.  Lucas had even joined us.  Molly tried to get Emelda out of the kitchen to join us for a few minutes, but she shied away.  Her English was not very good and I think she was somewhat embarrassed to sit with a group of people, though at times she had joined when it was just Marta, Molly and myself.
       “So you think that’s all it will take–this Masterson fellow?” questioned Doc regarding the information I gave him about Bat Masterson becoming the new marshal of Silverton.
       Most folk have heard of Masterson, the truth and the myth, of his character and deeds.  He had earned some of his reputation, but some of it had been made up by those sitting around a table in a saloon, or by the lies of those wanting to make a dollar or two.
       “Doc,” I responded, “Bat will get the job done.  I know the man.”
       Well, I did know him.  I can’t say he was a personal friend, but our paths had crossed several times back in Denver.  We knew each other well enough to converse and also to respect each other.  I tried to always make myself known to ride clearly on the side of the law, while Bat sometimes lived in that gray area.
       “Hmpf,” grunted Doc.  “He’ll last ’til someone shoots him from ambush.”
       A little gasp came from Marta.  She had joined us but was sullen and hadn’t said nary a word.  Molly noticed it as well.
       “I talked with him for quite a spell until the train left the next day.  Charlie filled him in on the situation in Silverton and Bat also agreed to keep Shy Williams on as deputy,” I informed the group then I added.  “I don’t think he’ll stay around long.  In fact, I told him I was surprised he came with winter coming.  All I received was a chuckle and a smile.”
       “When will Charlie be home?” asked Marta abruptly.
       I watched Molly place her hand on Marta’s arm.  “Anytime now.  He could come in today or tomorrow.  With Bat there he won’t need to stay around as long.”
       “Good, then he can get rid of that badge!” she exclaimed, moving her arm away from Molly’s hand. 
       It was silent for quite a spell with eyes searching each other.  “You don’t mean that Marta,” said Edith.  “The county needs Charlie.  He’s a good sheriff.”
       Marta’s lip curled as she spoke.  “It’s not good for me.  I plan for us to move, maybe down toward Taos…somewhere away.  Charlie, Lucas, and I will start a new life along with our baby.”
       “I won’t be going,” stated Lucas quietly but firmly.
       His reply startled Marta.  “You must, I am your guardian,” she answered sharply.
       “I’m seventeen, I have a job.  I won’t be leaving with you,” he affirmed.
       Doc was scratching his ear and the side of his head, Edith had lowered her head seemingly ashamed at having brought up the subject.  Molly turned in her chair.  “Marta, have you been praying about this?”
       Marta wouldn’t look at her, but Molly wouldn’t let her get away.  “Marta, look at me and listen.  Charlie is good at his job.  You really need to pray about this.  It is dangerous to force a man to back away from what the Lord has provided for him,” she said then pleading she added.  “Don’t make him choose between his work and you.”
       “So I should be self-sacrificing!  Why not him?  Why not him giving up something?  Why should I be forced to worry whether or not he’ll come back from one of his trips?”
       “Marta, I know it’s hard,” said Molly softly.  “I had to work through it myself.  It took time, prayer, and trust in the Lord.”  She looked my direction.  “I had to come to the realization that Miles was in God’s hands as well as our lives.”
       I finally spoke up.  “Marta, when Charlie comes home listen to him–not with your emotions, but with your heart.”  Then I added something stupid, “I’ll look after Lucas if you decide to leave.”
       Standing up she thrust her chair back knocking it over.  When it crashed the few people left in the diner all looked in our direction.  “All this is your fault to begin with!” she yelled then tromped off toward the kitchen.  A moment later we heard the back door slam.
       Molly started to get up but I grabbed her by the arm shaking my head.  “She needs to work this out.  You know that.”
       “Senor Miles, I’m sorry to always cause you troubles,” spoke up Lucas.  “I will go with Marta if she leaves.”
        “You’re no trouble,” I replied.  “It’s your decision, but as Molly told Marta, make it with your heart and much prayer.”