My mercy, the road from Silverton to Ouray was clogged. I had never been north of Silverton and the hills were loaded with mines, miners, camps and the road was filled with wagons and pack mules. To add to the problem, the road was extremely tight in some areas; definitely no room for two wagons to pass. It reminded me some of the time I worked as a teamster in the Boulder region while working for Dave Cook.
The little office of Wells Fargo in Ouray was sturdy and doing work. Most of the ore, however, went over the mountains to Silverton where it could be transported by rail. Most of what was in Ouray was from the local region. I spent a day there in town before heading down toward Montrose. I purchased some supplies for the trail: coffee, bacon, and some cans of beans and peaches.
I spent that night in the mountains enjoying the coolness of the evening and hot, strong coffee. I kind of felt weird. Guess I was getting real used to Molly be around me. A couple of years back and I would have just enjoyed the weather, but now I felt just a little empty. I’ve heard a good woman does that to you; you just get used to her being around.
Leaning forward to pour another cup of coffee before going to my blankets, I felt a strangeness in the camp. I didn’t hear him come in, and being upwind I didn’t smell him either.
“Pour me a cup, friend Miles,” came the voice with laughter behind it. “You sure do leave me busy sometime, but I’m still waiting for the day when I get to gather up your soul.”
“First of all, I ain’t pourin’ you no coffee. You don’t drink it anyway, and I’m not goin’ to waste it. Second, I’m not and never will be your friend. And one more thing, you will never gather up my soul!”
That got to him. I could see the blue veins pulsating under his pale skin. There was a little snarl coming from deep in his throat. “Maybe not you then, but Molly. I’ll take the missus.”
“Listen, you imp from the pit, you may get our bodies, at least temporarily, but never our souls. When it’s time to pass over He’ll be there to gather our souls.”
He was gone, but there seemed to be a putrid smell in the air around a little green mist left behind. I was sorely tempted to move to another campsite for the night. Then I saw the mist move toward the fire and it hovered there forming a smile and then disappeared.
It had been many years now since I had first seen the devil’s grin. It was in the burning of my wife-to-be’s plantation. I can see it clearly in my mind, just like it was then, at wide grin that seemed to mock me. Over the years, the taking of the Shenandoah, riding with McNelly, the trail drives, working with Cook and then being on my own, either that grin or the Pale Rider would occasionally appear. Sometime it agitated me, but tonight when the threat was placed on Molly, it brought a dread upon me.
I decided I might as well crawl into my blankets. At first I couldn’t sleep, just tossed and turned. That also perturbed me. I should be able to rebuke that ol’ devil, but sometimes he was just hard to ‘buke. Then I heard the howl of coyotes off in the distance and I sensed someone else in camp. I remember taking a deep sigh and that was it until morning.
It was decidedly warmer down off those mountains. A couple days later and I was in Montrose. I had been there a couple of times before, and it was definitely growing. It was a ranching and farming community and was certainly a’bustling when I rode to the Wells Fargo office.
That office needed some real work. It was only a wood building and that made it susceptible to fire. They had a good safe, but it was also old and needed to be replaced. The two men working seemed qualified enough, but they were paper-shufflers and they hadn’t hired any guards. I would put in my report that a brick building needed to be found or built and that guards needed to be hired. I figured Montrose would continue to grow and they would need a banking center.
Upon leaving the office I noticed a person standing across the street was giving me some attention. He was looking at me and then down at a piece of paper that he unfolded. I was getting ready to mount Hawk, take him down to the livery and then get my room, when he crossed the street.
“This be you?” he asked and showed me the bounty paper, which had covered a drawn pistol.
“Nah, he’s older than me, and much uglier.” That took him back a moment and he glanced at the dodger. Then…