Molly and Marta were waiting on tables, actually cleaning them up would be a better term, as there were only a few tables still occupied as the breakfast time was nearly over, at least for working folk.  Then I noticed a man come in and take a seat.  I had just poured myself a cup of coffee and as Molly came by I grabbed her.
“Let Marta finish.  Sit beside me for a minute.”  I got up, but kept my eyes on the room, grabbed a cup and poured a cup of coffee for Molly.
“Don’t look right now, but casually glance around the room.  You’ll see a man sitting over there to our left.  This is the second day in a row he’s been in right after the breakfast rush.”  I paused, taking a sip.  “Ever seen him before?”
She let her yes roam the room and they paused on the man whom Marta was now waiting upon.  “Can’t say that I have.  He’s dressed like most of these miners.”
“Yep, he is, ‘ceptin’ his clothes are worn from workin’ a claim.  Oh, they look dirty, but not frayed and worn from workin’ in them everyday.  Plus, there is somethin’ else about him, not quite sure what yet.”
Getting up, I poured another cup of coffee, then reached for the Greener with my right hand.  “Think I’ll go have a little talk with him,” I said picking up the cup in my left hand.
“Miles,” Molly looked at me with those green eyes that have been known to flash a few sparks now and then.  “Don’t you go start something.”
I smiled at her. What else could I do? Then I said, “Not likely.”
As I approached he sort of tensed up, but then quickly relaxed.  “Mind if I sit?”  I asked.
“No, go ahead,” he replied.
“Yur good Trenton, real good.”  His eyes widened.  “Next time wear some used clothes.”
“Forrest, I thought,” and I stopped him.
“A little mistake might mean a box six-feet under.”  I took a drink of my coffee.  “Let me get you a fresh cup.  Marta!  How’s ’bout some more coffee and see if you can’t find a couple of pieces of pie that Molly might have hidden from me.”
“Another thing Trenton, change your voice a little.  I was tryin’ to place you, but your walk, those clothes, and then when you spoke I was certain.”
Marta came up with a couple of pieces of butterscotch pie. 
“Forrest, mind if you put that shotgun someplace else?  It sorta makes me nervous sitting on the table pointing at me.”
I took it off the table and leaned it against the wall within arm’s reach.  Experience has taught me to keep it close and handy.  I cut a piece of pie and starting chewing on it.  Swallowing I took a sip and asked, “Okay, you’re here for a reason.  Let’s have it.”
“I go by the name of Peter Peabody…”
That cause me to laugh.  “Sorry, but how in the world did you come up with a name like that?”
He looked like I shamed him.  “Forrest, I’ll have you know that was my mother’s father’s name.”
“Sorry Mr. Peabody, should’ve figured nobody could make that up.  Go on, why’re you here?”
“Wray and Ferguson left Idaho Springs and purchased a ticket from Denver to Pueblo.  When I got there I found they had purchased tickets over to Durango.  They were at least a day ahead of me, so they should be in town already.”
I sat there pondering for a minute or so.  “Have they changed their appearance?”
“Wray looks the same, but Ferguson is sporting a moustache, sort of like yours only darker.”
“Thanks for the heads up.  If you see them I’m usually here if not someplace else.  Tomorrow I make a stage run over to Cortez and back.  Should be gone three, four days.”
“One more thing, Forrest.  I found out that in Pueblo that Wray paid the passage for five other men.”
I nodded my thanks, and as I did a couple of men walked in the door.  They were the kind that gives my gut that funny feeling that things may not go right.  “Well, Mr. Peabody, nice to be meetin’ yuh,” I said for effect.  Then more softly, “I’ll buy the coffee and pie, but you still pay for the meal.”