The Saga of Miles Forrest

The next couple of days I went from store to store interviewing the owners.  A few were cooperative and agreed to witness, but asked that their names not be released until the hearing.  Fear welled up in the face of most of them.  It’s amazing how fear can dominate truth and doing the right thing.   I reckon that’s true in our individual lives as well, old slewfoot allows something to come up and we get fearful and anxious over it and forget to trust in the Lord.  
       Then there were those who outright refused.  That caused me some concern for they wanted to know who was going to help me.  I also wondered if some of them, the saloon owners for example, might not be given a kickback.  It was clear however, that there was extortion going on, but there still was no link to Grady Stinson and it seemed that no one heard of him either.  I still thought there was some kind of connection, that Knaught knew him, but then he could have moved on to someplace else.
       Right now I could connect it to Knaught and his roughnecks.  I had taken some time away from Socorro and rode up the road to send a telegram to the Territorial office of Judge T. L. Norris.  I didn’t want to send it from Socorro, afraid that the message might get into the hands of Knaught.  Judge Norris would be arriving today to listen to witnesses and take depositions.
       It was around 10:00 that the train arrived and I waited for the judge to depart.  I noticed that I always had someone tailing me at a discreet distance.  This morning, however, I saw that it was Deputy Case.  His arm was in a sling, but he was still doing his duty for the marshal and Knaught.  I had never met Judge Norris and only heard a few things regarding the man.  He was said to be firm yet fair.  I knew he was working closely with Governor Wallace in cleaning up the outlaw problems and range warfare.  It was Marshal Wilcox who suggested I contact him.
       We shook hands and I immediately could tell he was a no-nonsense type of guy.  He did smile when I introduced him to Elfego, telling the Judge that he was my right-hand man.  I didn’t mention how he snuck my gun from the holster during the shoot out.  
       “Where can I hold the hearing?” were the first words after our brief introduction that came from his mouth.  I had asked him if he wanted to eat, but he simply replied, “Just keep the coffee on.”
       I offered to carry his valise, but he wouldn’t let me.  I had secured the use of the church from Rev. Sinclair.  The Judge would use his office and the witnesses could sit out in the sanctuary.  Elfego and the Reverend stayed with those in the sanctuary and I went in to act as bailiff for the Judge.  Parson Sinclair said he would make sure that there was coffee.
       Most of the witnesses were very nervous, they knew that they could expect reprisals for their testimony.  The Judge knew what he wanted to ask, and barked out the questions, and wrote their answers.   He would then give the paper, have the witnesses check over it, then he said they could add any comment they wanted to the bottom, then sign it.
       The Judge wanted to work through lunch to get this over.  It was near two o’clock that Elfego came to the door when Mr. Farnsworth, the blacksmith, walked out.  “Excuse me, Senor Judge, marshal, but there is someone out there not on the witness list.  I see him around, sometime, but he doesn’t have a business in Socorro.”
       The Judge nodded at me, “Check him out.  I’ll take a break until you find out who he is.”
       I stood at the entrance to the office with Elfego as he pointed at a man, wearing a gun in a cross-draw rig standing by the door.  He was scanning the few in the sanctuary and when Farnsworth went by him he stepped out in front of him.  Farnsworth would stomp the stuffings out of him, but I saw the man put his hand to his gun.
       “Get out of the way!” I hollered as I started running for the two men.  Farnsworth turned his head to look at me, and felt the gun in his side.  He slashed down with his hands before the gun went off, then fell to the floor.  I drew my gun, seeing that the man was bringing his gun up to shoot at me.  I stopped, fired twice, and the man crumpled to the floor.
       Reverend Sinclair was rushing to the men, when I yelled for him to stop.  I wanted to make sure that the stranger was in no shape to shoot the preacher.  When I got there I nodded at the preacher.  The man seemed dead, but then I saw a flicker in his eyes and a smile, or was it a grimace?   Sinclair was checking out Farnsworth.  The quick movement on his part saved his life.  The bullet discharged and drilled a hole in the floor next to his right boot.  A second later he would have been gut shot.
       Within seconds, the Judge had joined us and Deputy Case came through the door, gun in his hand.  “You’re under arrest!” he hollered, then he looked at the man with me.  “Who is this man?”
       I hadn’t holstered my gun, so I brought it up right in front of the deputy’s face.  Pointing it at him only a few inches away, I commanded.  “Put your gun away!”  
       The deputy seemed confused as well as frightened.  He knew from past experience that I was no one to fool with.  The Judge stopped any indecision and put the confusion at rest when he ordered.  “Marshal, take this man back to the office.  I want to question him.”  Then he turned walking back toward the office.  
       By this time the Parson had helped Farnsworth to his feet, and was quietly talking with him.  Probably about his mortal soul and how he almost met his Maker today.  A couple of people started to get up and leave, but the Judge stopped at the office and sternly reprimanded them, ordering them to sit back down.  I had Deputy Case by his good arm and was directing him to where the Judge would question him.  
       Before entering, I stopped Case making sure he had no other weapons on his person.  “Be sure you are respectful to Judge Norris,” I said with a smile…