The Saga of Miles Forrest

I moved around the corner into the darkness. To his credit he stopped; I could tell he was wary of the situation.
“Mr. Forrest,” he said softly. “Don’t do anything rash. My hands are up.”
The Greener was held at my shoulder; it was Trenton. “That’s sure a good way to get yourself shot,” I said. “Cook send you to follow me?”
“Yes sir.”
“Figured I might get myself in trouble did he?”
“No sir. He said that it was more that trouble just naturally finds you,” he paused. “Please put down the shotgun. It kinda makes me nervous.”
I lowered the shotgun; he dropped his arms, and that little shrug saved one of our lives as the shot rang out. I grabbed him and jerked him into the darkness of the alley. Neither of us moved and we stayed hunkered down for a few minutes. I motioned for him to be still and I went over to the other side of the alley to peer out. I knew approximately where the shot came from, but couldn’t pinpoint anything unless he shot again, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to know where he was that much.
Dark was approaching and I figured I could go to the other side of the alley without getting shot. Peering around the corner I could only guess where the shot might have come from unless I drew another one. I know my mind is feeble at times, but right then I didn’t want to set myself up as a sitting duck. I motioned for Trenton to follow me down the alley and we would go to the station the back way. Chances were that the shooter was gone anyway.
Now, a week later Trenton and I were relaying the story to Cook in his office back in Denver. Molly was out shopping, but there first words she said when we returned was, “Now, what kind of trouble did you get into?” I had to assure her I didn’t do a thing. Cook was grinning about this now.
“But Dave, honestly, what are we going to do about this?” I asked.
“Not much we can do. I think the three of us can surmise that Wray or Henderson took that shot, or someone they paid. We just have to be vigilant.”
“I doubt it was Wray. Henderson yes; maybe Iverson has joined them by now.”
“Trenton,” began Cook, “do you think you could find Wray again and follow him around without being noticed?”
“Most likely. It was getting dark and even if he was the shooter, I don’t think he could have seen my face. Plus, I’ll be in disguise.”
“Let’s let Trenton do his work. Miles, when are you and Molly leaving?”
“If she has her orders and shopping done the plan is to leave tomorrow.”
We got up to leave and we all shook hands. In parting Trenton leaned over to me, “I’ll see you tomorrow before you leave.”

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