The gunsmoke was still in the air after the attempt of Lige Donor to free his brother, Clem, from jail. Young Lucas had been shot, and was perhaps dead. Lige was dead, killed by the hands of his brother. Now, let’s go back to those thrilling days of yesteryear to see what Miles will do after all this calamity.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Clem Donor was sitting on the floor holding the head of his dead brother in his lap. He was weeping not only due to the fact that his brother was dead, but that it was Clem that forced the action. They were fighting over the pistol when it when off sending a bullet under the chin and through the head of Lige Donor.
“Marshal,” cried Clem, “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I told Lige to leave, but the boy had already been shot.” Clem sobered up for a minute from his emotional state staring straight into my eyes. “Was the boy dead?”
“I don’t know. Sheriff Gold picked up the body so fast and was out of here before I had time to check.”
Donor began to weep again. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was just to be a simple holdup, take some money and go south toward Santa Fe,” he paused to wipe the slobber off his mouth and chin. “None of us had ever kilt no one before, not me, not Fred, not Lige. Why, did it happen this way?”
“Clem, when a person turns towards evil ways, there’s no tellin’ what may happen. A lie becomes a landslide, a holdup becomes a murder. Why, because of evil,” I paused to look him in the eye. “If you had not tried to rob the diner, your brother would still be alive.”
He dropped his head continuing to weep. “I need to get you back into your cell,” I said and started to reach underneath his arm to hoist him up.
“Marshal, could I stay with Lige until they take him away?” he pleaded. “I won’t try anything.”
I didn’t reckon it would do any harm, Parker would be here in a few minutes. It was then I heard the shuffling outside the jail. Folks were trying to peer inside. All I felt was disgust as I went to the door and slammed it in their faces. I even hoped that perhaps a couple of them snoopers got their noses smashed up some.
It must have been ten minutes before Parker arrived. He had to push people away, many were gawking through the windows trying to see a dead man, lying in his blood on the floor. I gave a wry smile, as the undertaker of death arrived at the same time as the giver of hope in Rev. Chapman.
Parker had two men with him carrying a stretcher and he quickly had them take the body of Lige Donor out of the office. I pulled the parson to the side while Parker did his work. He pronounced the body dead, then the men left. I didn’t move as Clem slowly pulled himself to his feet and went back to his cell dragging his feet. He shut the door then went over to the cot and slumped down on it.
I could see the concern in the Parson’s eyes, so I briefly told him what happened. He grabbed my arm with his hand. “The man is distraught, Parson,” I said quietly.
“No wonder,” came his soft reply. “May I go speak with him?”
Nodding I told him he could go in the cell with Donor. I’d stay in the office until things settled down. I didn’t hear what the preacher was saying. He was holding onto the hand of Donor, and after a short while, he began to pray with the man. I turned to look out the window, thinking I should give them some privacy. I knew for a fact that only the Lord could help the poor man.
Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, I saw Alejo, Mateo’s oldest son running toward the jail. By this time the crowd outside had dispersed, and he came on through the door. “Senor, Marshal, come quickly. Lucas…”