The Saga of Miles Forrest

Things had seemed to settle down the next few days.  Charlie had gone up to Silverton to check on how the new marshal was doing.  I told Mateo that I would help him in his duties around town.  Durango was getting large enough, no, in fact, it was large enough that Mateo needed a deputy or two.  Mateo did the night check, going to bed around midnight leaving Lucas in the office in case of an emergency.  I would make the morning rounds after getting Molly set up in the diner.  She only owned twenty percent now, but she didn’t put in any less hours.
       I had noticed that throughout the day there was always a hub of men moving in and out of Amos Martin’s store.  He was either doing great business or was running his mouth off to whoever would listen.  Shame is, there were a lot of folk who would listen.  The Sunday crowd was slimmer than normal at church, and some who did come seemed to avoid the preacher.
       It was three nights after the incident with Martin that there were signs of trouble again.  Mateo was making his way home just after midnight when he saw a couple of men running out from the Mexican area of town.  He hollered for them to stop, but they kept right on running.  Then a shot was fired, not from the direction of those running, but from the barrio, missing Mateo by only inches.
       He moved into the shadows, seeking to find where the shot was fired.  He glanced down towards the way the men ran, thinking they might come back.  After fifteen minutes of waiting, he moved slowly, keeping to the dark of the shadows in the direction of his home.  Whoever fired the shot had either moved, or left the scene, but he was still cautious as he approached his adobe.
       Finding the door was locked, as he attempted to open it, he smiled.  “Good woman,” he muttered to himself, then knocked on the door.
       A few seconds later, he heard the lock being released, and the door slowly opening.  When it opened enough to let him in, there came a gasp from Luciana and she covered her face with her hands.  Trembling, she pointed one hand toward the door.  In either blood or paint, it was hard to tell in the darkness the word “DEATH” was printed.  
       Mateo quickly shut and locked the door moving his wife back to the lowly burning fireplace.  He was glad of the warmth, as the night beat had put a chill in him along with the message on the door.  For several minutes he held his shaking wife.
       When I went by the jail the next morning, Alejo was telling Lucas what had transpired.  “It had to be Martin,” I thought to myself, the anger beginning to boil inside.
       I would give Mateo another couple of hours to sleep then would go up to see how he and Luciana were doing.  “Alejo, do you want to join me for breakfast at the diner?” I asked, and not waiting for an answer, I added.  “As soon as I finish my rounds I’ll meet you there.”
       He smiled, then answered, “Si, Senor Miles.  I have to fill up a couple of woodboxes and when I finish I will gladly meet you.”
       Looking back at the cell area, then to Lucas, I said, “You might as well join us since there are no desperadoes to guard.  Lock up the office when Alejo comes back and we’ll head down.”
       I was just coming from behind Doc Jones’ place when Lucas hurried out followed by Doc.  “Hey,” I hollered, but they didn’t pay any mind and continued up to the jail.  I thought it prudent to follow them.  Arriving at the jail, I followed them back to the cell area where I saw Alejo lying with the tar beat out of him on one of the cots.  I stood by the doorway while Doc went in to minister to him and Lucas came to stand beside me.
       We both watched Doc, then heard Alejo groan loudly.  Without looking toward me, Lucas said, “Alejo said it was Frank Moser and another man.”
       It was early that neither the saloons nor the stores were open.  I questioned Lucas, not staring at him.  “Any idea where they might be?”
       “He was pretty woozy when he stumbled in here,” stated Lucas.  “They were waiting for him at the bottom of the hill near the Widow Moss’ place.  He muttered something about being run over by a horse, then they dismounted and started beating him.”
       That was a good place to start.  Since no one was out yet, I could find the tracks left by their horses.  “It’s time I gave someone a good thumpin’.  Stay here…”

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

Amos Martin has got a mob stirred up saying that his daughter had been kidnapped and was being held in the Mexican section of the town.  He has threatened the law officers and the ministers of the community as well as threatened to burn down the barrio.  Tensions are high and now Marshal Ramirez has offered to take off his badge and settle the dispute with Martin.  Join with me now another saga from the thrilling days of yesteryear.
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       “Easy, Mateo,” I said, moving closer to him.
       “You hear that Sheriff,” hollered Frank Moser from the crowd that was beginning to disperse.  “You need to remove his badge!”
       Moser was a hard-luck miner who seemed always ready to blame someone else for the misery he brought upon himself.  Instead of out trying to find a job, he spent most of his time yapping and drinking in one of the saloons.  Most folks with common sense saw him for what he was.  I guess he saw this as a chance of rising in the eyes of some.
       “I’ll stand by yuh,” barked Moser, moving up closer to Martin.  He turned to look at the men who were now leaving the scene, and with a sneer said, “Even if these cowards back away.”
       Lifting the Greener I stepped toward Moser.  “Then I think you need to feel some of the same medicine that’s been given out,” I said, thrusting the barrel up under his chin, knocking him back a step and then lifting him to his toes.  He quickly calmed down so I took some of the pressure off by removing the shotgun and stepping back to watch him rub where the barrel had rested under his chin.
       A chuckle emerged from Mateo.  “You told me to take it easy.”
       “I’m not fighting the law,” muttered Martin, “but I aim to find my daughter.”  He started to turn away then stopped to glare at the preacher and priest then shot daggers from his eyes at Mateo.  “I’ll find her one way or another.” He spat in the snow then walked away leaving his comrade standing before me.  
       I smiled at Moser, who almost wilted seeing that he was now alone.  Without hesitation he turned to hurry to catch up with Martin, slipping and falling to a knee before starting off again.  Martin didn’t pay him any mind but just walked the faster.
       When he left, Charlie came down to where the four of us were standing.  “Well, that was fun for a cold morning,” he stated to no one in particular.
       Turning to the parson I asked, “Would you mind explainin’ what is goin’ on?”
       It was Father Cisneros that spoke up.  “Javier and Agatha have been seeing each other whenever the opportunity arises for the past couple of years.  When they reached the legal age they asked if they could get married.  Javier is a good lad, and works hard.”
       “However,” interrupted Rev. Chapman, “Agatha said that she would not marry him with only a Catholic priest available.  She also informed him that I had to give permission for them to marry since her father opposed it.”
       “I take it you did,” I said, staring at the parson.  
       “Not necessarily my permission, but I agreed to marry them,” he informed me.  “Agatha has asked her father on more than one occasion and he even went so far as to strike her once.”
       “And he beat up Javier.  I went to talk with Martin about that; Javier did not want to press charges,” declared Mateo.  
       “Amos definitely has a problem,” offered the parson.
       “Hatred,” I muttered, then added, “hatred mostly of himself and he spews it out on everyone else, especially those who he thinks of as his lessers.”
       “What about the newly weds?” I asked.
       “Javier has a job waiting for him this spring down near Taos,” offered the priest.  “But it is too cold now to travel there, plus the job doesn’t start until the end of March.”
       I sighed, then saw Charlie shaking his head.   “Any place we can hide them for a couple of weeks?”
       I pulled on my moustache.  It was Mateo that spoke up.  “Yes, we can hide them, but Martin won’t believe they aren’t in the barrio.  He will attempt to find them.”
       “They can stay in the church,” offered the priest.
       “Or at my house, I’m sure Betty wouldn’t mind.”
       “All right we hide them, but Mateo has a good point.  It won’t stop Martin from searching, plus it puts your lives in danger.”
       I had a half-smile as I took in the gaze of the two lawmen standing with me.  As we were standing there, thinking, Parson Chapman declared, “I think it’s time we prayed…”

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

Upon seeing the mob, Rev. Chapman and Father Cisneros stopped abruptly, smiles disappearing from their faces.  Amos Martin, now standing eyed them intently.  The Parson came up to my right side, just a little behind me and inquired, “Miles, what’s going on here?”
       “Mr. Martin is lookin’ for his daughter.  He claims she’s been kidnapped.”
       I couldn’t see the parson’s countenance, but something in it must have triggered Martin.  He lunged for the preacher, thrusting me aside, grabbing him by the collar.  “Preacher!  Where’s Agatha?” he near screamed.  
       By this time, Mateo had come up to grasp one arm of Martin and I had been able to gain my balance and took hold of his other one and we pulled him away from the parson.  Martin has gone crazy-mad.  
       “Now, Brother Martin…” he began but was interrupted.
       “Don’t ‘Brother Martin’ me.  Do you know where she is?” he blasted, spittle coming from his mouth.
       Rev. Chapman straightened his shoulders, then looked Martin square in the eye.  “I do.”
       Martin’s eyes widened in fury as he tried to lunge for the preacher again.  This time, Mateo and I were ready and he couldn’t break our grasp.  “You have no right to hide her from me!” he exclaimed in rage.
       “From the way you’re acting, I had every right.  Agatha is of age and is now married to a fine, hard-working man,” came the calm, but firm answer from Rev. Chapman.
       “I’ll have it annulled!” he proclaimed still trying to break away from us.
       From another quarter, Sheriff Gold shouted.  “Why don’t you all go home.  This doesn’t concern you, and it’s too cold out here.  This was a legal marriage of two adults.  There is nothing you can do about it.”
       A voice from the crowd hollered out, one I didn’t recognize.  “Are you telling us that she wasn’t kidnapped?”
       “No more than you kidnapped Mary those years ago,” retorted Charlie with humor in his voice trying to lighten the mood.
       “Amos,” started in another man.  “You told us she’d been kidnapped.”
       Some of the air had been taken from Amos Martin, he seemed to have calmed down some, but I was afraid that it was burning and boiling inside ready to pop.  He sort of growled when he replied, “She was, she wouldn’t have gone of her own accord, not with one of them bean-eaters.  She wasn’t raised that way.”
       There was some mumbling and bickering in the crowd, I heard someone say that he was going home.  Most of those gathered began to move away with only a few standing with Martin.  Father Cisneros had moved up to stand beside the parson.
       Martin must have felt our grip relaxing for he burst out in wild fury striking the priest in the face knocking him down, then wrapping his meaty hands around the throat of Rev. Chapman.  I was in no position to bring the Greener to thump in on the head, but Mateo was quicker.  Lightning quick he drew his pistol and shoved his hard under the chin of Martin, hard enough that I heard his teeth clatter.  He pushed up with the barrel lifting Martin to his toes.
       “Release the preacher!” he ordered through gritted teeth.  Cocking the gun, he repeated, “Release him, I won’t say it again!”
       Martin took Mateo to heart, but gave him a stare filled with daggers as he stepped back.  Glaring at Mateo, Martin barked, “This ain’t over, bean-eater!” Then turned toward two men of the cloth.  “I’ll find them, and when I do she’ll be a widow right quick like!”  He spat toward the feet of the two men of God.  “I’ll burn out that barrio if I have to!”
       Mateo released him, then pushed him back.  “You have a gun, let’s take care of this now…”

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

There was trouble brewing, perhaps already boiled over.  Miles was summoned by Mateo’s oldest son, Alejo to join him.  When Miles arrived he was surprised to see a mob formed with Sheriff Gold and Mateo holding them off.  Join me now in another exciting episode from yesteryear.
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     Alejo could move faster through the snow than I could keep up.  As I passed Darnelle’s place I could see in the distance where the barrio began that a mob was there.  I could hear men’s voices but could not make out anything that was being said.  Alejo stopped and pointed while I continued on off to the side.
     “I want that bean-eater, and I want him now!” hollered Amos Martin who was almost berserk with anger.  Then looking over towards Mateo, he sneered, “I don’t know how he ever became marshal, I’ll see this gets changed!”
     “Settle down Martin!” warned Charlie.  “That goes for the rest of you; go on home.  It’s too cold out here, let the marshal do his job.”
     “His job, his job,” said another man who then spit into the snow.
     I knew the feelings that were racing in the minds of Charlie and Mateo.  These were people they knew, people they saw everyday, but now they were looking at a rabid mob.  One that was ready to attack.  I reckoned it was time to get their attention.  I raised the Greener in the air and discharged one barrel.  The blast shook the crowd as they didn’t know I was standing there with the shotgun.
     Stepping down off the boardwalk, I moved to stand between Charlie and Mateo.  “There’s one more barrel for the fool that dares to take a step in this direction.”
     There was some grumbling and muttering in the mob, then Amos Martin spoke up.  “You can’t stop us.  That boy kidnapped my daughter and I’ll see him hung.”
     This was Charlie and Mateo’s fight, I was just along to help, but I figured I might as well say something.  “Martin, you’ll never see anyone hung, for the first thing I’ll do is fill your gut with buckshot.”
     His eyes widened, and his face sort of paled, but only for a moment for quick as a flash the bluster was back.  “Mateo, you mind tellin’ me what’s goin’ on?”
     I glanced at Mateo, his face grim and jaw set firm.  “Javier Ballesteros and Martin’s daughter, Agatha ran off together.  Amos claims they’re in the barrio and was ready to burst in to find them.”
     “Are they there?” I asked.
     There was a shrug of his shoulders.  “Could be, I can’t say for sure.  But it doesn’t make any difference, she’s twenty and the boy is twenty-two.”
     “What’s he saying?” snapped Martin.  “She wouldn’t go in there by herself.  She knows what’d happen to her if she did.”
     When he said that I moved toward him, close enough to poke him in the chest with my Greener.  “I think it’s time you back off now.  Let Marshal Ramirez handle this.”
     “I wouldn’t trust him–he’s as filthy as the rest of them!”
     Guess it was just in my nature, I couldn’t resist.  I gave him a little thump with the barrel of the Greener that dropped him to his knees.  A man to my right charged at me, Charlie put a bullet just in front of his feet to stop his approach.
     “Best you listen to Marshal Forrest and go home.  My next shot will not be a warning!” barked Charlie.
     Another man hollered out, “You need to remember that you’re an elected official by the people!”
     Charlie smiled, “Take it up at the poll booth, a year and a half from now!”
     There was some bickering in the crowd.  As Martin was pulling himself to his feet, I noticed that a few were starting to pull away.  It was at that time that Parson Chapman and the Catholic priest, Damian Cisneros walked up from behind us with large smiles on their faces.  When they saw the mob they…