The Saga of Miles Forest

McCall watched Marta scurry past and out the door.  A smile came to his lip as he started walking toward Molly.  “Twenty-five dollars a month, but I’ll negotiate.  This month’s free for a kiss.”
    Molly was undisturbed pulling her pistol from her pocket.  “My husband will kill you, if I don’t do it first.”
    He glanced down, saw the pistol and stopped.  “You haven’t got the nerve,” he snapped.
    “Brave enough to try me, McCall?”
    “I could have you arrested for threatening an officer of the law,” he muttered glancing again at the pistol she was holding.
    Molly now smiled, “Come arrest me then.  Dare to die.”
    A snarl appeared on McCall’s face.  “One day, Mrs. snippity Miles Forrest, I’ll make sure you get yours!”
    “McCall, if you are smart, you’ll leave town before my husband returns.  If not, it will be too late,” suggested Molly.
    “Bah!” he exclaimed, turned and walked out the door, just as Sheriff Gold and Marta returned.
    “Whew,” came the sound from Molly as she sat down.  
    Gold looked at her then out the door where he passed McCall.  “What is it?” he asked coming to the table.
    Molly was trembling when he approached her.  Looking up she smiled, “Oh, nothing much Charlie, just extortion and harassment.”
    Charlie sat down as Molly began to tell the story.

                                           * * * *

    The rifle fell first, skittering down alongside the rocks, followed by a body which landed with a hard thud on the ground not far from me.  Then I heard the sound of hooves as a horse was approaching from the other side of the rocks.  
    “Blasco!”
    He sat there, tall in the saddle, but I could see pain etched in his face.  As he came closer I could see blood on his pants, the wound had opened up.  “Yuh know, if you keep tearin’ those stitches apart you’re goin’ to get blood poisonin’,” I remarked.
    “That’s all you have to say?  Not even, ‘thank you very much for saving my life’,” came his response.
    I moved closer to him, looking at the wound.  “It was gettin’ a mite touchy there,” I said then looked up at him.  “Need help gettin’ down?”
    He kind of stiffened, a jolt of pain must have gone through him.  “No, I think I better stay mounted.  Go check on Martin, I ride on over to check on Abrams and the other man.  I think I see him moving.”
    Approaching Martin, I could see plenty of blood.  Kneeling down I found him still breathing, but barely.  He had been shot in the side and high on the chest.  He needed a doctor, but how to get him to one was the problem.  I took off his kerchief and began to attempt to stop the blood flow on his chest.  I found that the bullet had passed through, so there were two holes to patch.  I glanced at the wound in the side, and though bloody I didn’t think it as serious as the other wound.
    I took a brief look at Blasco as he was riding toward me then went back to my work.  “That shotgun blast did a work on Abrams.  He would be hard to identify if I didn’t already know who he was.  The other man might make it, unless one of those pieces of lead move around hitting a vital spot,” he stated then looked at Martin.  “Still alive?  Tough ol’ cuss.  You finish patching him, then get that other hombre up on a horse and I’ll start back to town.  We’ll come out later for the other two bodies.”
    “Martin needs a doctor,” I uttered.
    Blasco sighed, then suggested, “Make a travois and bring him to town.  I should have made it in by then and will send someone out to help. Forrest, you’re a praying man, it might be the time for a few prayers…”