Miles Forrest was in Silverton checking on the community and was confronted by the deputy marshal of Silverton. He had heard some information that didn’t quite settle with him, so he began to prod the deputy. That is, he did until the town marshal came in the door. Join us for another thrilling adventure from the days of of yesteryear in the adventures of Miles Forrest.
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Before I could get anything out of my mouth, I heard the growling voice of the marshal. “What’s a U.S. Marshal doing in Silverton?”
I met him eye to eye, and I already knew that this wasn’t going to be a fun confrontation. “First of all it’s none of your business!” I barked back, then added. “Second, I’m not sure that I approve of your greetin’ or from what I hear of your treatment of prisoners.”
He finally dropped his stare. “None of that pertains to you! What we do here is none of your concern and, in fact, out of your jurisdiction!” He moved around me to stand beside the deputy.
Turning to face him, I observed that he had hanging jowls, and was starting to bulge a little over the belt. However, he carried his gun well, and I could see by his hands that he was or at least had been a rough and tumble guy by the scars on his knuckles. “As I explained to your deputy, the badge I’m wearin’ says that I do have jurisdiction here.” I stopped to let the words linger.
He didn’t say anything, just turned to put his hat on the rack by the entrance to his office. Turning his back on me he walked in his office and shut the door.
Of all the gall. I started after him when the deputy stepped in front of me, he hand on the butt of his gun. “Sonny,” I said with warning. “You begin to pull that gun and you’ll never see another light of day.” He smirked, but he did move his hand away. “Now, get out of my way!”
I don’t know if it was stubbornness or loyalty to the marshal, but Deputy Cunningham didn’t move. He wasn’t as big as the marshal, but was taller. I reckoned it was time for a lesson in proper etiquette. I moved the Greener slightly which was in my left hand. His eyes went to it and I hauled off and clobbered him on the jaw with my right. He staggered some, but didn’t fall and his hand started toward his gun. This time I swung the Greener up and caught him under the right side of his chin. He didn’t stagger, he simply fell to the floor with a thud. I went past him and barged through the door.
Upon entering I was greeted by the marshal sitting behind his desk, this time, however, he had a pistol in his hand. “I don’t know who you think you are, but no high-tone U.S. Marshal is going to treat us thataway.”
Perhaps he thought I would stop upon seeing the pistol. I noticed it wasn’t cocked so I took my changes and pulled the Greener up pulling back both hammers as I did. I had the shotgun cocked and six inches from his face before he could pull back the hammer on his pistol.
I smiled, “Go ahead, pull back the hammer if’n it’ll make you feel better.” I don’t know if it was my smile or the two big eyes from the shotgun staring at him, but he set the gun on the desk. I moved away from him, but kept the Greener pointed at him.
There was anger on his face, but he didn’t say anything which was probably good on his account for I doubt he could say anything that would please me right now. “Now, Marshal Johnson, since you’ve already met Mr. 12-gauge Greener, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Deputy U.S. Marshal Miles Forrest and I’m temporarily workin’ Sheriff Gold’s circuit. I just stopped by as I entered town to introduce myself,” I paused, not removing my smile. “I trust that this cordial greetin’ will not happen again.”
He nodded and sort of relaxed. “I’m on my way to meet some old friends. You may know them: Joe Hoskins, Chadwick Morgan, and Jakub Brewlinski.” When I mentioned Jakub’s name his eyes widened for a second. “My plan is to be here a couple of days,” I hesitated, then continued, “or maybe longer.”
I finally uncocked the shotgun and brought it down to my side. “I’ll be around…I want to see you again an’ we’ll continue our discussion before I leave.”
Without further adieu I turned and walked out of the office, stepped over the deputy and out the door. My next job was to get Hawk to a livery, brushed down and fed, then get myself a room. There were a couple of liveries in town, one near the train station, the other up the other end of Greene Street. I rode by the Grand Hotel again and was tempted to get a room there, but I knew the county budget wouldn’t allow it. A block over and two blocks down from the livery was a nice place I’d stayed at before, I’d stop there before getting Hawk a stall to see if there was a room.
“A dollar and a half a night,” said the desk clerk. For that price I was tempted to camp out up in the hills. I knew this was a mining town and money flowed easily, but a dollar? I took a room, then went to take care of Hawk and was shocked again; dollar to feed and take care of my horse.
“What’s your name?” I asked the hostler as he took the reins from me.
He frowned the wrinkles forming on his forehead. “Why yuh askin’? he asked.
“I sorta like to know the name of the man who’s robbin’ me,” I said then added a smile.
He regained his composure, “Giles,” he said then swallowed. I saw his eyes see my badge. His eyes widened, “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”
“Guilty conscience?” I inquired following him into the livery. I wanted to talk with him some more. I know this was a rich mining community, but I thought the prices might be a little too high. Hmmm…