Luciana, I don’t know if I’m cut out for this job,” announced Mateo as he sat on the floor in front of the fire with his wife. The nights were still cool so he made a fire in the little fireplace. They didn’t have any furniture except for a couple of chairs but he wanted to have Luciana sit with him. The two boys, Alejo and Enrique, were already in bed.
Mateo looked worn and ragged. He had been in Telluride for a week and had arrived home just in time to help his wife send the boys to bed, standing in the doorway listening to them pray. When Luciana came out he just shook his head then headed to the fireplace. “Husband, sit down, I will get us some coffee.”
“No, come and sit beside me. I don’t care for any coffee tonight, I have too much on my mind,” responded Mateo. He gave a little grunt then a small groan as he sat on the wooden floor. Luciana came to him, with a light blanket.
They were quiet, Luciana waiting for her husband to talk. She didn’t want to prod him, but she wondered what had put him in such a mood. He was always positive, enthusiastic, especially about his job, but with his coming home from the trip to Telluride he was morose, quiet, and depressed. She took him by the hand and they watched the flames flicker.
“I killed a man from ambush…” he paused. Luciana gripped his hand tighter. “It was that bounty hunter and he had Miles pinned down,” he said in a whisper, pausing again to gather his thoughts. “I normally don’t like to tell you these sort of things, but…then there was a fight in Telluride. I was jumped by a couple of men. I, I had to killed them both. They came out of an alley, yelling for me to go back to Mexico. They were drunk, and if they hadn’t shot at me I would have walked on by. Luciana, I am an American. I was born in this country. I know little of my parents’ life back in Mexico.”
* * * * *
Charlie had just left for Telluride; it was his turn to make the rounds there, plus he needed to check up on the report from Mateo. It wasn’t that he doubted Mateo, it was simply proper procedure. Mateo had arrived yesterday, and I hadn’t had a chance to thank him.
Doc Jones was sitting with me after Charlie left. I’d left Hoffner with Cecil Thompson. Thompson said that he’d care for him since he was one of his hands. For a gruff old man he had some tenderness hidden in that heart of his. I’d left the body of Malone with Paul Parker, the undertaker. Mateo shot him in the leg and I was ready to bring him back to town, but he let out a terrible scream after I tied him to the saddle. Right after that he died. I reckon Mateo’s bullet must have hit an artery and he bled out.
“Have you seen Rev. Chapman yet to tell him about his cousin?” inquired Doc.
I sipped my coffee. “He was relieved saying that after this Sunday’s service he would ride out to Thompson’s to check on his cousin. He asked about the wanted poster on Clyde. I told him that I sent telegrams to the local sheriff and also to the state. I would have to leave it in their hands.”
“Why are men so evil and vindictive?” asked Molly as she took a chair at the table. I got up to get her a cup of coffee. It was always pleasing to me when she took the time to sit beside me and share a cup. There was only a couple of out-of-work cowboys finishing their breakfast in the diner. Marta wasn’t feeling well so Molly told her to take a day off and rest.”
“Molly, I’ve thought about that numerous times,” muttered Doc, scratching the side of his head. “In my work, I see a lot of the consequences caused by evil men.” He rubbed down his chin a couple of times. “Wears on a body sometimes.”
The front door opened and we all glanced toward it. “Luciana!” exclaimed Molly. She surprised us all for she very seldom came down to the diner.
She strode directly to the table. Doc stood, pulling out a chair for her to sit while I got her a cup of coffee. She thanked us, then sighed. “Senor Miles, Doc,” she paused, putting her hand in Molly’s. “I’m worried about Mateo. I know you are his friends…maybe you can help him.”
Luciana proceeded to tell us about her conversation with Mateo and about her concern for him. “His mind,” she said, touching the side of her head. “It is messed up. He is thinking of quitting as deputy.”
I thought of his limp from being shot. Perhaps, he is getting around well enough. Doc spoke up, “Did something happen to him? Was he hit on the head?”
Tears formed in her eyes. “No, he was hit in the heart.”
Molly glanced at me, nodding her head. She understood what Luciana was saying. I had gone through the questions many times in our life. Was the job worth all the trouble, the killing, the shooting, the fear? Before I could say anything, Molly said, “Let’s pray right now for Mateo…”