In his stay in Silverton, Miles Forrest has uncovered some improprieties in the local marshal’s office. After being attacked in the street he had to shoot one man, cold-cock another, and had another one in handcuffs when the town marshal burst in the door. Come with me, as we take a glimpse back to the Wild West of yesteryear.
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My hand went to the grip of my pistol when Marshal Johnson burst through the door. I could tell he was upset even before he spoke a word.
“You can’t come in here and shoot up my town!” exclaimed Johnson. “I’m placing you under arrest for murdering one of my deputies.”
He was all a fluster, but I answered him calmly. “It wasn’t murder, it was in the line of duty. Plus, the last time I saw him he was still breathin’,” I hesitated to stare at him. “Now, if you think you can take me in, come on over and cuff me. Either that or shut your silly mouth!”
“Tom, you all right?” questioned the Marshal.
The deputy raised his hands showing that I had handcuffed him. “What in blazes!” yelled the Marshal. “Release him!”
“Can’t do it Marshal. He’s under arrest,” I informed him with a hint of a smile.
Marshal Johnson was fit to be tied. “Then turn him over to me. This is my jurisdiction, he should be placed under my office,” he stopped to gather his thoughts. “If there is to be a trial, it will be here.”
“Oh, there’ll be a trial all right, but in Durango. Federal District Court is there, and I’ll make sure he is kept safe until the trial,” I notified him right directly. “Once the trial is over I’ll be back to arrest you and your gang of deputies.”
Johnson’s hand quivered one time and I thought he was going to go for his gun. Instead he cursed, and went back out the doorway. I sat down, to get myself out of sight in the windows, I was a cautious man, then waited several minutes.
“Mr. Barnes, I want you to do two things for me,” I said, looking over at him standing by his desk. “Before you do anything you might want to sit down. You make a right pretty target through those windows. You might just be mistaken for me.”
In a flash he plopped himself down hard in a chair. It was comical, but I didn’t smile. “First, I want you to go to the station, and purchase another ticket for me on the morning train. Put it on my expense account as a federal marshal. Then go over to Morgan’s house and tell him what happened here.”
Before he left, I glanced around the room. If I remembered right, the one room was where they kept a couple of safes, and it was well built because of the gold that was left in there and shipped out by Wells Fargo. The other room was Morgan’s office. Neither room had windows. “One more thing. Go to my room at the hotel and gather my things and bring them here.”
Pulling the deputy by the cuffs, I went to the door where the safe was finding it unlocked. “It might not be comfortable, but you’ll be safe.” I didn’t bother to handcuff him to anything, he wasn’t going anywhere. “I never did get your full name.”
He was sullen, but also scared. Somewhere in him, he thought that Johnson would get him out. I was more concerned that the good marshal might shoot him to keep him from testifying. Squatting down on the floor, he looked up at me. “Tom Devlin.”
One thing for sure, when I shut the door it would be darker than Hades. I doubted that there would be any worms in there with him, but the thought of it sort of made me shudder. I thought for a moment, utter darkness, gnashing of teeth, where the worm never dies. Not a pretty picture, but that’s what awaits those that break the laws of God and do not turn to him and accept His grace.
I pulled a chair with rollers on it over near the door of the safe room, set myself down in it and propped my feet on the lower shelf of the counter. Checking my pistol, I then pulled the Greener over my lap so I would be ready if I had any unwelcome visitors…