I left Windy with the doc; he should be alright. It was touch and go for a while as one of the wounds wouldn’t quit bleeding, but now he was resting and doing fine. Before I left the car and helped him to the doc’s office I asked a boy if he could find a good horse for me. The train back to Durango wouldn’t leave until the next day and I needed to get back.
“Sure, Mr. Marshal,” he said. “I’ll find you a good one. He’ll be here in an hour or so, all ready for to go.”
I didn’t think of it then, but walking back to the station I started thinking that I hoped he didn’t go steal one. As I walked up he stood there with Star. The kid was beaming like he pulled one over on me.
“How’d he get here?” I asked.
“Your friends in Durango thought it was a good idea. Said I could ride free, if I’d look after this horse.” He was really smiling. “He’s been grained, and now ready for the trail.”  I’m glad it was Star. He was the runner being part thoroughbred; Hawk was the stayer. I flipped him a whole dollar.  “Don’t have to do that Mr. Marshal. Wells Fargo paid for my trip.”
“Get yourself somethin’ to eat, and maybe somethin’ for the sweet tooth.” Then I mounted and took off.  I figured those outlaws have found out by now that they’d been set up and most likely weren’t too happy about it. Ridin’ hard I reckoned I could get back to Durango before they showed up. I did have a concern that I might run into them on the trail; hopefully they had gone south and that would give me a little more time. There was quite a bit of movement along the trail as miners not working with a company began to come down from the high country. Only a hearty-soul likes to winter up there. I had my share of winters like that, one only a few years back.
As I rode into Durango I went straight to the eatery. The place was bustling. It was good that Molly had hired Marta and her mother, for the place was full. I went to the back to find Molly and gave her a hug.
“Not now, Miles. We’re too busy. Go sit down and I’ll bring you something.”
I wasn’t about to argue that. My table is usually reserved for myself or Doc Jones and I ambled over to it. Putting the Greener on the table I poured a cup of coffee and sat down.
It was only a minute when Marta came over with a steaming plate of something. “Senor, wonderful to have you back. The Senora said for you to try this.” Then she bent down to whisper. “I think maybe there is some pie in the back, too.”
I recognized the beans, but wasn’t sure of what else I was eating. Putting a fork to it I brought it up and smelled it. It smelled good; that always a good sign. So I ventured further and put it in my mouth. Now, where had Molly been hiding this meal? It made my ol’ gizzard smile in delight. I was just finishing up when Molly came over to me with a giant piece of apple pie.
“Like them?” she asked.
“Delicious, but why haven’t you made them before?”
“Marta’s mother–Eliana. She calls them enchiladas. I hired her and Marta’s brother. He has been real handy, especially cutting the wood for the stove.”
I stayed until they closed and cleaned up and then Molly and I walked on home.  It was nigh unto dark when we arrived at the little shack we called home.  I was just opening the door when the shot rang out.  I felt the tug of the bullet and pushed Molly inside the shack, and then I fell…