So he was a pretty good kid?” asked Doc Jones, scratching the side of his head.
I swerved my head in every direction to make sure Elfego wasn’t somewhere listening. “Yeah, Doc, he is a good kid. In some ways he takes on responsibility as if he’s already full-grown.
“I still can’t believe you gave him that gun,” lamented Edith. Edith had been working with Molly since Marta had the baby. “He’s likely to do something stupid–like get himself killed.”
“He’ll do all right with it. I told him to go back to work as a deputy with his father. He’ll be fine,” I said hopefully, then added, “I also gave him a Bible.”
“Hmpf, a gun and a Bible!” voiced Edith with some disgust in her tone.
It was good to be back in Durango, at the diner, with friends. I was sitting with Molly, sipping on some good coffee for a change and explaining all that went on back in Socorro. I sent telegrams to both Marshal Blasco and Marshal Wilcox regarding Stinson. They both told me I could come home. I’d fill out my report regarding the extortion ring run by Knaught and Udall, but that there was no apparent connection to Stinson. I’d received a telegram from Judge Norris saying that Knaught received five years in prison. He would be sent to Canon City to serve his time. I could almost read the disgust in the note, and it was Judge Norris that had to do the sentencing.
“Shame nothing more could be done about that fellow Knaught,” muttered Molly. I glanced at her and smiled. “What? What are you smiling at?”
“It makes me smile that sometimes you can read my thoughts,” I replied, with an even larger smile, and pulling at my moustache.
“Okay, okay,” she said, nudging me with her elbow. “Doc, how about you? Want a piece of pie? I need to go get the Marshal here a piece.”
Doc looked up, and uttered, “I’d like a piece of chocolate if you have one.”
Molly had just stood when the front door opened. At this time of day there are relatively few customers, but occasionally one does drop in. Looking up, I saw who it was and hollered to Molly. “Bring Mateo a piece as well.”
Mateo wandered toward us. “Do I need to arrest this scoundrel for telling lies?” He asked, nodding toward me.
“Now, Marshal, there’s no one at this table who’d tell a lie,” I paused, standing to my feet. “Unless it’s Doc, here.” Then I proceeded to grab a cup from the counter and pour him a cup of coffee as he sat down with us. By that time Molly had returned with a tray with five plates each having pie on them.
“You were fortunate Doc, this is the last piece of chocolate,” stated Molly. “Mateo, take your pick. Miles isn’t too fussy when it comes to pie.”
I looked at the four pieces left on the tray–custard, apricot, and two pieces of blackberry. My eyes looked at the four sitting there, and I was just hoping that I’d get a piece of that blackberry pie. “Oh, quit your drooling, Miles. Here!” cajoled Molly, again reading my mind, and handing me a piece of blackberry pie.
Molly started to go to the counter asking on her way, “Honey or sugar, Mateo?”
When he replied honey, Doc and I both stared at him for several seconds. “Mateo!” said Doc with a scowl on his face. “Honey, and that sweet pie will do you in one of these days.”
One thing I had come to realize over the years was that I was blessed with good friends. The good Lord allows people to come into our lives for a reason–some for a short season, some for a longer period of time. I’ve learned to not question Him and His timing, but also that I should cherish and enjoy the time He has given me to be with them.
With a sigh, I looked at Molly, and tapped her on the arm, “Good pie…”
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