The Saga of Miles Forrest

I looked at Charlie, but he didn’t continue, he got up and walked outside the door.  I didn’t want to push him for information, so figured I’d wait ’til the first water station and pull out something that Molly had packed for us to eat, then maybe prod him a little.
       He seemed to have quite a bit on his mind.  I realized there was the situation in Silverton, but now he mentioned Marta.  Could there be trouble because of Lucas?  If so, that was my fault.
       It was perhaps twenty minutes before he came back in the car.  I didn’t blame him for wanting to ride out in the fresh air and survey the river and the canyon that we were passing through.  He came and sat down and I asked, “Do you think Williams can handle the job?”
       He shrugged his shoulders, “Shy is a good man, but I have no idea how bad he is wounded.  You know how it is after being shot at; a person gets sorta gun-shy,” he shrugged again.  “I’ll just have to wait until I talk to him.  You know the game, I have no say in town matters.”
       “Yeah, but you can give advice and make suggestions,” I remarked.
       A sigh came from him, but no reply.
       “Mateo seems to be doin’ a good job.  His leg don’t seem to hold him back from doin’ his job,” I stated, then heard the blast of the whistle notifying that the first water station was coming up.  The train lurched as it began to slow to a stop.
       I reached in the burlap bag to pull out a couple of apricot hand pies that had been placed in there.  I continued to search and smiled as I saw two pork steak sandwiches which I imagine Molly had loaded with mustard.  I’d keep them until we reached the halfway point.
       “He’s doing great,” Charlie said in response to my question about Mateo.  “But,” he hesitated, “Luciana doesn’t like it when he’s gone so long.”  Then he took a bite of the pie and stared out the window.
       It had helped Charlie to have Mateo as his deputy.  They would each make rounds going in different directions.  If Mateo was in Silverton, Charlie would most likely be over near Telluride.  They would meet in Durango, compare notes, then head out again.  They had a good system and it was working.  Of course, there were always unusual situations like Mateo having to spend two weeks in Telluride, and now Charlie going up to Silverton.  A lawman can’t always depend upon a strict schedule, the outlaws and scum out there won’t allow it.
       Charlie finished his pie and was wiping the crumbs off his moustache.  I plopped the last piece of mine in my mouth and mumbled, “I’m goin’ to find us some coffee.”  I got up and ambled up toward the more refined cars.  I glanced where the stove used to be; where they used to keep a pot of coffee going.  If they wouldn’t allow me a couple of cups from the fancy cars I’d go back to the caboose.  The brakemen would surely share.
       They were generous up front and gave me two cups filled with hot coffee and I didn’t have to pay.  I took a big gulp and it burned all the way down to my stomach, then with the rocking of the train, I spilt half of Charlie’s on my hand.  There were plenty of sneers and hard looks and pleading eyes given to me as I walked through the car holding two cups of coffee.  Folks must have thought we were someone special.
       I handed him the cup, now only half full and received a questioning look until he saw that my hand was somewhat red and wet with coffee, then he laughed.  “At least yuh saved me two swallows,” he snorted, then drank it,  swirling the last in his mouth to clean the crumbs out.
       After finishing his coffee he held the cup in both hands, looking at the dregs, “Marta wants me to quit.”
       “Why?” I asked, knowing what was probably the reason.
       He shrugged with one shoulder, “Too dangerous and that I was gone too much.”
       “Lucas?”
       Shrugging again, “Maybe some, he’s just added to her list of complaints.”
       “If you quit, what’ll you do?” I inquired.  
       “Vexler is always needing help down at the livery.  Maybe he could teach me to blacksmith.  Or I could work for Bert Crenshaw,” he said looking up at me.  “I always wanted to be a good carpenter.”
       Putting my cup on the floor, I then pulled at my moustache pondering what Charlie had told me.  “Charlie, you’re a lawman, and a good one,” I paused for several seconds.  “Durango, the west, we need good men to uphold justice.  Men to counter the lawless and low-lifes out there.”
       Then he pulled the final straw.  “Marta’s also going to have a baby.”
       My eyes widened, then I started nodding my head in understanding.  “What are you goin’ to do?”
       The shrug came again.  If it had been Lucas doing that I would have given him a little thump.  He looked over at me with a wry smile, “First, I’m going to take care of the situation in Silverton.