Month: January 2026

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
A wise person thinks much about death, while the fool thinks only about having a good time now.”  –Ecclesiastes 7:4 (NLT)
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     The weather had broken, but the temperature was still down around ten degrees so the snow was not melting.  There had been traffic on the streets, so people were out and getting around.  The boardwalks had been cleared off for the most part making huge piles of snow in front of the businesses.  I knew that in a few days when the temperature got above freezing there would be a mess in the streets, slush and mud.
     From what we knew, Merry O’Dell was the only casualty of the storm and the following cold.  Father Damian and Parson Chapman along with the Anglican minister, Horatio Geneau and Methodist preacher William Trapp were going around to all the homes seeing if there were any urgent needs.  I nodded at them as they were heading into the barrio.  This was something good coming from the storm.  I knew that Father Damian worked with the Parson, but it was the first time in my membrance that all the clergy got together.
     Marta and Emelda had the diner open and I helped Molly come down.  They seemed to be doing a flourishing business.  I guess folks didn’t want to take the time to cook.  They would run out for something and stop by the diner to eat.  Emelda kept the menu simple:  chili, enchiladas, and potato soup.  Hot meals, and the folks wanted that.  Molly made several pies, and, of course, the diner kept the coffee on, inviting anyone in to get warm and have a cup.  Times like these a little hospitality went a long way.
     Lucius and Mort Feeney, who had seemed to have gotten better, especially after the Parson prayed for him, were released to help in the community.  I had some doubts since they had threatened to kill me, but Judge Klaser said they could work off their fine with community service.  They were cutting firewood and delivering it to various homes of elderly and folks unable to get out.  Molly spoiled them by ending each day with a pie to take back to their cell.
     I had decided that I needed to talk to them about the attempt on my life.  There was still the charge of attempted murder of a federal lawman pending over which Judge Klaser had no jurisdiction.  I recalled that they said they were related to Lem Collins.  Collins was a worthless no-good who I had to shoot when arresting him.  He was now serving time in the pen.
     “Aunt Mable, that’s Lem’s mother, was upset that he was serving hard time,” opened up Lucius.  “Mort and I were very close to her as she sorta took us in after our Ma died.  We felt that we needed to do something.”
     “So killing me was the answer?” I snapped at them, perhaps a little too harshly.
     They both ducked their heads, then Mort lifted his and with a wry smile said, “Not too smart was it?”
     “You couldn’t think of a better way to help her out?  What would happen if both of you were killed?  What would happen if you had killed me and would be on the run waiting for a noose for your neck?  Think she would be happy or better off?”  I let them have it watching their reactions very carefully.
     They had no response, just shook their heads.  
     “Did she know you were coming to Durango?” I questioned then added, “By the way, where are you from?”
     Lucius looked at me replying, “Over the pass by Del Norte.  And to answer your other question, no she doesn’t know.  She’d be worryin’ herself sick.  First Lem, and now we’ve been gone for so long.”
     “Go send her a telegram,” I ordered.  “Here’s money for it.”  I handed Lucius a silver dollar, then added another to it.  “Stop by DePoy’s and get a shave and bath.”
     “Uh, Marshal, I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but it’s downright cold out there.  A bath?”
     I stared at him.  “If you don’t, I’ll make sure Molly doesn’t send you any more pies.”

 

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

The pursuit [of gold and wealth] was a dream—a glittering allurement; the possession incited a lust for more, and that was madness.”
                    –Zane Grey  (The Border Legion)

       “Because you say, ‘I am rich, have become wealthy, and have need of nothing’–and do not know that you are wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked–“
                    –Revelation 3:17(NKJV)
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“Blessed are the  poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  –Matthew 5:3 (NASB)
“How happy are the humble-minded, for the kingdom of Heaven is theirs.”  –Matthew 5:3 (Phillips)

One thing that must be observed and is very important when studying the beatitudes is to keep in mind that they are spiritual in nature for the most part.  Do not try to understand them totally in the natural sense.  This will become clear as we look at the first beatitude–the poor in spirit.  John Calvin said, “He only who is reduced to nothing in himself, and relies on the mercy of God, is poor in spirit.”
     The Greek word means absolute and abject poverty.  Does that mean that only the poor are blessed enough to see the kingdom of heaven?  See, it must be seen in the spiritual sense.  This phrase describes the humble and helpless who must put their whole trust in God.  David wrote, “This poor man cried out and the LORD heard him…” (Psalm 34:6, NKJV); it speaks of a man who was brought to the sense of his sins.  This is the gist of the great hymn by John Newton that shows forth this concept:  “Amazing grace…that saved a wretch like me…”  That person was poor in spirit.
     That is one reason why Jesus said that it would be hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.  He has trouble being low, for what does he need?  But it is not impossible, for a rich person can recognize his great need of a Savior because of his sin.  Then he has become poor in spirit.  Light is shown on this by William Barclay, “Blessed is the man who is abjectly and completely poverty-stricken.  Blessed is the man who is absolutely destitute.”  He is not speaking of the homeless that we see on the street.  He is not speaking of the down and out who have nothing to call their own.  This is the man that is described in Psalm 51:17, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and a contrite heart–these, O God, You will not despise.” (NKJV)  This is the tax collector of Luke 18:13, “And the tax collector, standing afar off, would not so much as raise his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner!'” (NKJV)  These individuals are poor in spirit.
     The theologian D.A. Carson says, “To be poor in spirit is not to lack courage but to acknowledge spiritual bankruptcy.  It confesses one’s unworthiness before God and utter dependence on Him.”  William Barclay adds to this, “The man who is poor in spirit is the man who has realised that things mean nothing, and that God means everything.  A very literal translation would be blessed is the man who has realized his own utter helplessness, and who has put his whole trust in God.  He is completely detached from things, and therefore, he is completely attached to God.
     We often quote Philippians 4:19 in the comfort of our living room, “And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.” (NKJV)  Notice that it is singular.  What is our need?  Jesus Christ!  Everything else is secondary.  When we study this verse it is good that we take time to inventory our lives, look at our priorities and adjust them if necessary.  “To be poor in spirit is to realize that I have nothing, am nothing, and can do nothing, and have need of all things.” (Arthur Pink)  That is hard for us to say or to realize.  We can use that little plastic card, or now use the phone to get what we think we need.  Remember, poor in spirit is not natural for it means health and strength in God.  The opposite of which is haughty, self-assertive, and self-sufficient.  “Poverty of spirit is evident in a person when he is brought into the dust before God to acknowledge his utter helplessness.” (Pink)  
     “Amazing grace…that saved a wretch like me…”  This is the poor in spirit; this is the person who receives grace.  Thomas Watson said, “A man never comes to himself until he comes out of himself.”  This week, look at your heart.  Where is your wealth?  Where do you put your trust?  Can you add a single day or hour to your life?  Compare your prayer to that of the tax collector and that of the Pharisee (Luke 18:9-14).

 

Coffee Percs

by Ira Paine, Posted on

I melted snow water in a lard pail. I don’t think hot coffee ever hit the spot more than it did on that night of the Arctic blizzard.” 

                    –Richard P. Hobson, Jr.  (Nothing Too Good for a Cowboy)
 
“It’s a fact that you’re gettin’ older, man don’t it seem like the winter’s are colder?”  Come in, Pard, yur cup’s on the table, an’ the coffee’s on the stove.  I was just thinkin’ of that song by that buckaroo Dan Roberts.  Not shor but think it was wrote by G.C. Galvin.  Gettin’ older, that’s a pure fact.  The winters are colder, I reckon not, but the old bones might be thinkin’ they are.  No ten below zero here, but it don’t take much to knock out the electricity.  Don’t be frettin’ ’bout us Pard, the Missus and I are ready.  The campstove is ready to warm up some beans and keep the coffee goin’.
     Guess there’s just too many people, much of them don’t have no common sense, an’ the grid can’t keep up.  Course yuh never know, those weathermen are paid to lie.  Don’t take too much stock in them, but on the other hand it’s better to be safe than sorry.  In fact, Annie made a pie today so we can be ready for the icy weekend.  Problem is it won’t last until Sunday.  When I lived up in the northern lands I kept a sleepin’ bag in the ol’ steel mount, along with a sterno stove, a pan, coffee and tea.  Most of the time there was a pack of bouillon needed.  Usually a shovel, and a few other odds an’ ends.  Better to be prepared than frozen.  Knew an ol’ boy who got caught in a blizzard in eastern Colorado.  He had to pull off the road, but he was prepared.  When he woke the next mornin’ the snow had covered his car.  Course now’days they close the roads.  
     Pard, as yuh guzzle that hot coffee, I’m a-thinkin’ of those up in the cold.  It’s one thing to sit by the fire and listen to that cold norther blow, and entirely another to have to be out in it.  Those chilly fingers of freezing temperatures slowly strangle the warmth from the body.  Then ol’ Jack London’s story, “To Build a Fire” comes to mind.  Folks if’n yur not prepared, an’ then like in that story even sometime if’n yuh are things happen an’ the results can be catastrophic.
     “Nother cup?  Shor ‘nough, an’ if’n we finish this pot, I can jist make another one.  That’s part of preparin’ for the cold.  Go ‘head drink all yuh want.  The cold outside, and folk bustlin’ ’round in a frantic makes me think of the words that people will pray for the rocks to fall on them.  They are frantic, the world is in complete chaos an’ the judgment of the Lord is upon it.  Too late to get prepared, and they don’t know what to do, and Pard, think of it–they pray to an idol, the rocks.  I’m glad that the inner soul is warmed by the Holy Spirit.  He is like a fire that brings soothin’ warmth to a cold spirit, similar to a warm fire and a cup of coffee to the body that has been out too long in the cold.  Pard, if’n yuh know someone who’s out in the freezin’ wasteland, tell them to not wait too long to come in to the “fire” and warm the body and soul.
     Yuh better get on yur way.  Double check to make shor that yur set for the winter cold blast.  Then I guess if the electricity goes out, we’ll jist hunker down under some quilts.  Yuh be safe, an’ be careful.  At least I know yuh won’t be out ridin’ so I won’t be worryin’ ’bout yuh checkin’ yur cinch.
      Vaya con Dios.

 

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

A bitter and bleak world it was, with the peaks obscured and enshrouded, and sending earthward the eerie scream of the gale as it sheered the sharp points; a world of torturing cold and uneasy loneliness.”

                    –Ernest Haycox  (Chaffee of Roaring Horse)

       “And because lawlessness will abound, the love of many will grow cold.”
                    –Matthew 24:12 (NKJV)
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               “Cold and it’s getting colder,
               Gray and white and winter all around,
               And oh, I must be getting older,
               And all this snow is trying to get me down…”
                       –John Denver

Friend, I’m telling you that the old starter is starting harder.  The cold affects me more now that I’m three-fourths of a century old.  I move along carefully so as to protect this precious cargo called my human body.  I doubt that we’ll see the white stuff–snow, down here in the lower part of East Texas, but there could be plenty of ice.  Besides that it is going to be just plain cold.  Ice, that’s worse than snow.
     I know the Scripture declares that “From the chamber of the south comes the whirlwind, and cold from the scattering winds of the north.  By the breath of God ice is given, and the broad waters are frozen.” (Job 37:9-10, NKJV)  Winter is here, and I realize that it’s the season of ice, snow, and the cold.  The toes are tingling already in expectation and I read the words of the Psalmist, “He casteth forth his ice like morsels:  who can stand before his cold?” (147:17, KJV)
     We normally do not think of ice and snow in regard to God.  It is the idea of a consuming fire, or the fires of hell, or destroying the world by fire when our minds go to this metaphor of God’s creation.  His breath is cold.  Brrr, makes me shiver.  However, we need to understand that God set forth the seasons under His creative word.  He controls them under His divine laws, and true, the weather can be controlled by His word.  He gives His word to the wind, the ice, the snow, the cold and it happens, oh, that we as humans could obey so easily and readily.
     Some of those first scenes from Narnia made me shiver.  The wicked witch, Jadis, uses winter for control.  She was able to force the entire land in a state of frozen ice and snow.  She is the representation of evil, but don’t we usually associate evil with fire, with hellfire?  But what does winter symbolize?  The last breath of life.  The coming of death.  When the body dies, look at it lying there in the casket–it looks frozen.  Ice…  I will further ask, what is the heart without the Lord?  Cold, hard, like ice.  The warmth of the Holy Spirit is all that could touch it, but many refuse His warmth and stay frozen, away from God.
     Too many carry around a cold, cold heart.  The words from Hank Williams come to mind, “Why can’t I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold, cold heart?”  If the heart is cold now toward God, in the future when the body faces the coldness of death it will quickly be warmed up.  Not by the warmth of the Spirit but by the fires of Hades.  Now is the time for the Holy Spirit to use the warmth of His love to regenerate the heart.  Now is the time when the spiritual ice can be thawed and the soul flow with the warmth of God’s love.
     As Jack Frost approaches, and the wind brings the cold from the north know that it is only for a few days, a season and that God is in control.  Let our hearts be warm as we see the icicles form knowing that God brings His love to us.  For the Psalmist continues, “He sends out His word and melts them; He causes His wind to blow, and the waters flow.” (147:18, NKJV)  Oh, rejoice in the warmth of the Holy Spirit even as nature is in the throes of ice and winter.