The Saga of Miles Forrest

Do you want to move to Denver?” asked Molly.
Hesitating, I took a sip of coffee. “We don’t have much here.”
“We have the restaurant.”
“Yeah, and where do we sleep? The back of the kitchen,” I replied with a little disgust in my voice.
She placed a hand on my arm. “Pour a cup of that coffee for me, please.”
“I wouldn’t like Denver, but there are some nice places along the Front Range.”
“Mines, miners–the same as here,” she paused. “Those towns have just been around longer. They’ve risen and died several times.”
“It would be different than when I worked there a few years back. There is more law and order; more civilization.” I got up to refill my cup and looked at her.
“Just top it off.”
“I want you to be safe; I don’t want to worry about you. With more people around, well, that should provide more safety.”
“Miles, more people, more problems,” quipped Molly.
“No!” came the shout from the edge of the kitchen. “You cannot leave. Lucas, my mother, I; we all need the both of you.” It seemed that Marta had been listening from the kitchen.
She walked slowly toward us, her hands clinched into fists. Stopping in front of us, she was trembling. “Marta….”
“What have we done to make you leave? You do not have to worry about us; we have been able to do so for years.”
“Marta, will you sit with us?” asked Molly calmly and quietly.
I stood to pull out a chair, and then poured her a cup of coffee. “You both tell me to trust in the Lord. Have either of you inquired of His wants?”
Molly and I looked at each other. “Marta, I want her, I want all of you to be safe. They call this place the “Shooting Gallery. What kind of name is that for a eatery?”
I waited for a response. “But yur right. I haven’t been thinkin’ right. I need, we all need to do some prayin’ about it.”
At that time the door opened. I saw Marta and Molly both cringe at the sound. There was an edge of nervousness, but it was just Willis from the office with a telegram from Wells Fargo in Denver.
“Evidence seems to point to a man named Trenton….stop….reports that he is at Silverton….stop….go check.”
Molly put her hand on my arm again. “Oh, Miles, what will you do?”
“Willis, send a reply that I’ll head out tomorrow mornin’.” I looked at Molly. “I didn’t want this and I know Trenton didn’t. I was hopin’ he had taken off for Mexico.”
“I’ll ride up there. That’ll give me some time to think and pray, but first I’ll have another cup of coffee.”