There was a little cantina just a block from the station, and Molly and I sauntered down to it. We had three hours before the train would come in that would take us on over to Durango. We sat at a table toward the back and ordered up a couple bowls of chili and coffee.
When I tasted it my eyes lit up in pure delight. There is chili all over the Southwest and that includes Texas, but each area has its own peculiar flavors, mostly depending upon the type of peppers. When I rode in Texas most of the chili was “rojo”, red chili, but since I come to live in Colorado I have had more of the green chili type. And as an added plus, the coffee was hot and strong.
“I’ve never heard someone sigh like you do over a bowl of chili,” exclaimed Molly.
Looking up holding my spoon I smiled. “The only thing that could add to it would be a piece of your apple pie.”
I ordered up another bowl as I didn’t plan on eating anything aboard the train. This would have to do me until Alamosa. The price was right as well: 3 bowls of chili and 2 cups of coffee–two-bits.
Molly and I were both vigilant on the way home. We took turns sleeping so one could always be on the watch. Finally, just before noon we arrived back in Durango. We were no worse for the wear and just slightly tired, as we were able to get a little sleep. Molly wanted to go on down to the eatery. She had heard a new name and was thinking of calling it a diner. That sounds much better than “Molly’s Shooting-Gallery.”
We had turned the corner and entered the street with the eatery and we quickly noticed that the eatery was boarded up. Hurrying over to it we saw that the windows had been busted out and replaced with wood and the door was boarded as well as windows were broken there as well.
“Let’s go see Doc Jones,” I said. His office was just across the street and down one building.
Doc was at his desk, reading intensely over some books. When we burst in he was sort of startled. “Miles! Molly! Am I glad to see you!” he exclaimed and rushed up to meet us.
“What’s goin’ on?” I asked.
“Some men came in early this morning, before breakfast and tore up the place,” he paused and looked at Molly. “Sorry, but they wrecked it good.”
“Eliana and Marta?” she questioned.
He dropped his eyes. “What happened Doc? Did they hurt Lucas as well?”
“They’re hurt. They’ll be in a bad way for a while. Lucas was not there when it happened.”
I pulled a chair out for Molly to sit. “Tell us Doc,” I said softly.
He rubbed his chin and then moved his fingers through his hair. “I’ll start with Eliana. They smashed her fingers. I’m not sure she be able to used them again.”
“And Marta?”
“I don’t know if she was trying to run out or to her mother, but they grabbed her shoulder and dislocated it, and then pinned her to a table and broke a chair over her arm, thus breaking it. We found her hovering over Eliana, they had kicked her in the side, breaking some ribs.”
I hesitated, “Anything else?”
“No, they didn’t molest either of them.” He went over to the basin and poured a glass of water. “Marta said that she has a message for you Miles. From them.”
“Are they home now?”
Doc nodded. “Come with me, Molly.”
We hurried on down to the Mexican and Indian part of town. I knew where Marta and her family lived. As we approached their home we were stopped by some men of the locale. They tipped their sombreros at Molly and said, “Forrest, you are not welcome here.”
I started to push by them and one grabbed my shoulder. I looked at him and he decided to let go.
A voice came from the building in front of us. “Pedro, Estevan, no! Senor Forrest is our dear friend. Let him by.”
Ushering Molly in before me we entered Marta’s humble abode. Eliana was sitting at the table, her hands bandaged, and pain etched on her face, but she smiled upon seeing Molly.
Holding my hat in my hand, I spoke reverently to them. “Marta, Senora, I am so sorry.” All I could think about was the fact that my friends keep getting hurt because of me. This scum will not face me, but take it out on innocent, weaker people.
“We are okay,” said Marta. “We will heal. But you, Senor Miles, beware. These men said they had not forgotten you and that they will still collect.”
“Did any of them have a name?”
“Ferguson.”