Miles has been charged by court order to take Todd Johnson to Canon City to begin serving his thirty year sentence. The snow is lightly falling as the stage has pulled into the last stop before arriving in Canon City. Miles has noticed that there are additional horses tied to the corral fence. Does Johnson have enough friends that would try to free him or is it just coincidence? Join me in another exciting adventure from yesteryear.
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I waited, holding Johnson in the stage until the horses were removed and taken to the corral. The driver walked with the hostler helping him out. I still waited. Perhaps it was my suspicious nature that kept me in check for my job required for me to be suspicious and it has saved my neck several times. Perhaps it was the checking of the Holy Spirit upon me to make me wait. Most likely it was a combination of both.
“You still think you’re gonna get me to the pen?” smarted off Johnson from the darkness of the coach. I didn’t want him to warn those inside, so I lifted the barrel of the Greener and gave him a sudden thunk on the noggin, rendering him unconscious.
Taking my hat off I turned to face the station house keeping low in the coach. It was none too soon for three men from the station stepped out. “Todd! Todd you there?” hollered the man in the center.
They didn’t venture out any further, but stood by the front of the station. “Briles, you sure he was to be on this stage?” growled the center man.
“He was on it,” came his return. “Unless he got off before arriving at the station,” he paused. “An’ that don’t seem feasible in this weather.”
“Let’s check it out,” stated the center man and the three started toward the stage.
I waited until they were ten yards from the coach. “Deputy United States Marshal Miles Forrest–put your hands high over your head!”
There came an oath from the one named Briles, then cursing from the man in the center. All three of them didn’t heed my command because they went for their guns. Shooting through the door I cut loose with both barrels of the Greener. I know the shot hit all three men, but the center man was blown back several feet and lay there on the ground still, his blood now coloring the white snow.
Glancing at the man to my right I saw that he was down on one knee holding his right shoulder. Briles was limping off to my left. Drawing my pistol I fired twice, hitting him both times stopping him in mid-limp. The other man was still holding his gun and was trying to bring it up. Cocking my pistol, I yelled, “Drop it!”
Then two shots rang out from the corner of the station house. Dummy me, I had forgotten that I saw four horses. I snapped a shot toward the station. Another bullet ripped through the stage and I heard a thud. It was fired from the wounded man, so I fired twice at him this time taking him completely out of the action. Another shot from the corner.
Hunkering down in the stage I took out the spent cartridges and reloaded. Johnson was still unconscious as I went past him and out the other door. I heard hollering from the corral. The man was racing towards his horse when the teamster and hostler were bringing up the fresh team. I raced toward the corral as the man was stepping into his saddle. Two more shots rang from my gun, the man falling, his foot caught in the stirrup. The hostler ran to him to grab the horse’s reins. If the horse would have taken off, the man wouldn’t have known anything about it–he was dead.
Four more dead, I thought in disgust. All because of a crooked town marshal. I guess there is loyalty among thieves. As the fresh team was brought up, I went to the stage to check on Johnson. Opening the door, I noticed blood on the seat. One of the bullets had hit him. I pulled him out to check. He was no longer unconscious but now in pain. He better be alive, I thought to myself. Coming all this way I wanted to make sure he reached the pen.
There was a bullet in his right calf muscle. I looked at the splintered door of the stage and the place where I had been crouching. How did that bullet get past me to hit him? I looked heavenward, nodded, and sighed.
Six days later, and one day late, the train I was on arrived in Durango. I didn’t bother cleaning up but walked straight toward the church where the gatherings were taking place. No one noticed me when I walked in the door so I stood to watch the crowd. I hung my coat and hat up, placed the Greener in the corner, then slowly moved toward where Charlie, Mateo, Doc, and Molly were standing.
“I told you something would come up!” exclaimed Doc.
There was a laugh from Molly. “It wouldn’t be Miles if it didn’t.”
“I don’t want to interfere with your fun, but I sure would like a cup of coffee!” I interjected, surprising them.
“Miles!” exclaimed Molly coming to my arms.
Smiling my best smile, I greeted them all with a hearty, “Merry Christmas!”