The Saga of Miles Forrest

Trenton was staying in a little shack behind Doc Jones. I went by to see him every day or so. Doc was concerned with infection in his eye and would have to clean it everyday. I could only imagine the pain. When I would visit with him he would say little, very quiet, just nodding or very melancholic answers.
I took Hardy with me so Trenton could get a good look at him. “Recall seein’ him durin’ the holdup?” I asked.
He looked him up and down and shook his head. “He wasn’t inside the office.”
“Think you’re up to walkin’ to the Doc’s? Marshal Gold is bringin’ a dead man for you to look at.”
“Forrest!” he barked. “I’m not a complete invalid.”
I just stared at him. “Sorry, Miles. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I’m still trying to get used to my new look. Life will be different from now on.”
“Why? You’re the same man. You keep a-talkin’ like that and you will be a handicapped man.”
Grabbing Hardy by the arm, I turned and walked out with Trenton behind me. The marshal was still with Doc when we came arrived.
“Here yuh go marshal. Trenton can’t identify him, so you can arrest him for something.”
“I sent a deputy to get the undertaker.” He paused and looked at Trenton and sort of hesitated before he spoke again. “His name reportedly is Vickers; recognize him?”
“He’s the man that tied Tom to the chair.” I watched Trenton shudder; maybe he was reliving the event. “I remember shooting one, maybe twice. I know I hit someone, but things happened so fast. Someone fired at me, and I fell. There were at least five in the room,” he stopped and went over to a chair and sat down. “Then they grabbed me and all I felt was pain. That’s when they told me to tell you that they were going to hurt you.”
“Ferguson?” I asked.
Trenton shook his head, “I didn’t see him. I don’t think he was there.”
“Vickers and the one called Dreg,” I muttered. “At least three others.”
Through the door burst Lowell, one of Charlie’s deputies. He looked at me, “There’s a fire out toward your place Forrest.”
“Check on Molly at the eatery!” I yelled as I pushed past them and headed up to our little shack. She shouldn’t be there, but my insides were crawling as I tried to run in the snow. I slowed as I neared and pulled my pistol. That shack wasn’t much, but Molly and I called it home.
Warily I walked closer. My eyes wandered back to the tree line and then around as I continued my steps. Then I heard running off to my left getting closer. I turned; it was Molly along with Charlie and Lowell.
“Lucas!” she screamed and tried to run past me. I grabbed her. “Miles, Lucas went up to the cabin,” she spoke frantically.
“Easy, it could be a trap.” I started up one side and Charlie Gold moved around the other. Lowell stayed back with Molly.
There was no way I could get inside the shack. I heard Charlie yell, “Miles, over here. The boy.”
I ran and then noticed the snow was red. Charlie was bending down to an object laying there. It was Lucas. He was taking off his bandana and wrapping it around the boy’s arm.
“He’s bleeding. We’ve got to get him back down to the Doc.”
Charlie picked him up and turned and stopped. One wall of the cabin was still there with flames just now starting to overtake it. On the side was a face–smiling.
Charlie was half running, half slipping as he raced back to Doc Jones. I grabbed Molly and we followed.