The Saga of Miles Forrest

You! You!” she screamed as she came through the door rushing toward me.
    Customers in the diner stopped eating and took in the sight of the woman in a red dress running toward where I was sitting.  Her face was red, as livid as her dress.  Quickly Marta and Molly ran up on each side of her to hold her.  I stood as she came to the table.
    “You said Billy was the marshal!” she exclaimed, but a little more calmly since Marta and Molly were holding her.
    “No,” I answered.  “I said you would most likely find him at the jail.  You assumed…”
    “Billy wouldn’t do wrong.  He said they wouldn’t let him out; he said no bail.  I went to the judge and he said that the attempted murder of a federal office didn’t warrant bail,” she looked at me and if possible her face became more red.
    “You’re the federal officer!”
    I pulled out a chair.  “Won’t you sit down and calm yourself.  Plus, this is a public eatin’ establishment and you’re upsettin’ the customers.”
    Really, looking around I thought they might be enjoying the show she was putting on.  Marta helped her into the chair then motioned for Molly to sit in the chair next to her.  Marta grabbed the coffee pot and went to see about the customers.  Smart girl, calm the situation down some.
    Sitting there she continued to glare at me.  “Billy wouldn’t shoot anyone.”
    I pointed to Molly.  She pulled back her hair to show the scar.
    “I don’t believe it!” she said with eyes wide.  “He didn’t shoot you, and he certainly wouldn’t shoot a woman.  You’re making this all up!”
    It was time to change the subject.  “Miss Billington, who was the man waitin’ for you in your father’s house?”
    She looked as if she had been slapped.  “There was no one.  You’re mistaken, just like you are in Billy’s shooting.  If must have been someone else,” she said now agitated.  Anger sure didn’t help her countenance.  Facial lines flooded out from the edge of her mouth making her look older and downright mean.
    “The federal judge arrived today.  The trial will begin tomorrow.”
    Standing up abruptly, she knocked over the chair, which when it crashed to the floor got everyone’s attention again.  She glared at both me and Molly and stormed out the diner, not as exuberant as she entered.
    “Whooeee,” I breathed.  Marta came to us with a couple of cups and filled them with coffee.
    “She’s something else,” remarked Molly.
    I took a couple of deep swallows.  “I need to go see Foster about gettin’ a marshal to help Charlie at the jail.  She’s hidin’ somethin’ ’bout a man at her house.  Someone thunked me on the head, and I wouldn’t doubt if there aren’t at least four hombres out there,” I took another deep swallow that emptied my cup.
    “I reckon I should see the federal judge along with Judge Klaser; just for them to stay on the alert,” I pulled at my moustache a couple of times.  “Think I’ll send a telegram to Covney.”
    Walking to the door I peered back to wave at Molly when I caught a whiff of a putrid aroma and thought I heard the faint cackle of a sneering laughter.  I didn’t have time to dwell on that now.  Death may follow me, but I don’t have time to wait around and dwell on it.  As I began my exit, I saw Ooverholm scurrying across the street my direction.  With my focus on him I bumped into a man entering the diner.  I had just a glance but I had seen him before, it was…