Give, and it will be given to you; a good measure—pressed down, shaken together, and running over—will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you.” –Luke 6:38 (HCSB)
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It was that time of year when miners who had been laid off for the winter months began to filter into Durango. After the strike and fiasco a few years back, most of the larger mines let the married men stay in the company houses with minimum rent. Silverton, with the aid of the mines, provided a place where single men could stay at a reasonable cost. Many, however, came on down to Durango. It was warmer and there were plenty of places for them to spend their money.
That was the shame of it. The mines, the larger ones at least, paid them well enough to get through the winter months. That is, unless they spent their wages foolishly, which the majority of them did. The vices of the town called out to them and they answered, then they paid the price. Both Rev. Chapman and Father Cisneros tried to help the down and out, but they could only do so much and they had little room to house the men.
Miners came primarily from the Silverton area, but a few still came in from Telluride. There was a little community springing up that had once only been a stage station. They were calling it Cortez. Another place to add to Charlie’s list. A few Mexican sheepherders, a group of small farmers, and now, unemployed miners; yep, Charlie would have his hands full there.
The days were pleasant, but soon winter would be fully upon us. I was sitting by the stove in the diner, when Doc Jones came in to visit. He ambled over, pulled out a chair and sat himself. After he was seated, he pointed to the coffeepot on the stove. Shaking my head, I got up to get him a cup and fill it from the pot. I don’t know why he just didn’t do it himself before sitting down.
Marta and Emelda were running the place under Molly’s supervision, though they didn’t need much of it. Molly was currently out getting some produce from Crandall’s Grocery. I am still amazed that they can put goods in a can and keep them. Sure does help through the year, especially the winter months. Molly still took care of the books and the expenditures.
Doc was sipping his coffee. Setting down the cup, he scratched the side of his face, that meant he was about to say something. “What is the plan for Martin’s store?” he asked. “Seems a shame for it to be sitting there all boarded up. It’s still full of goods isn’t it?”
I didn’t reply for it seemed like he was going to continue. “You know the Peabodys? They seem like fine folks.”
“From what I know of them they are,” I replied wondering where he was going with his thoughts.
“Why don’t you go talk to them?” he said, more of an order than a question. When I didn’t answer, he continued. “Ever thought of letting the Peabodys run the store and sharing the proceeds with Martin’s daughter?”
Marshall Peabody was a man who had brought his family West with him. I wasn’t sure from where they came, someplace in Ohio I thought. He was going to strike it rich, like so many others and went broke instead. Now, he and his wife Eloise were living in a tent north of town with two small children; a girl of six, Penny, and a boy who was four, if I remembered right, named Jake. They had made it thus far by keeping a little garden with Marshall hiring out to odd jobs. People liked him, and he had a good reputation. With Lucas now working at the jail, Marshall had taken his place chopping wood for various businesses and people in town.
“There’s a couple of rooms upstairs,” Doc stated. “That would get them out of that tent and someplace to stay during the winter.”
I sipped at my coffee. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” he barked a little exasperated.
Standing up, I took the last swallow, then put on my jacket. Grabbing the Greener I started to walk out. “Where are you going?” he snapped.
“Think, I’ll have a talk with Judge Klaser…”