With Tioga and Smokey Fountain in jail back in Durango, Miles has traveled back to Silverton. He is determined to bring down the crooked Marshal Johnson and his cronies. However, Sheriff Gold was in Telluride, and Mateo had to see to duties in Durango. Miles was alone, possibly outnumbered eight to one. Join with me now in another thrilling tale in those exciting days of yesteryear.
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By the time I walked the quarter mile into town, it was dark. While sitting on the train I had pondered several plans, but tossed them all away. Now walking in the cool night air of the high country, I tried to think of some definite plan to arrest Johnson. If I could get him I figured the rest would fold.
I found out that Johnson had a room above the Silver Bucket, but to get to it I had to go through the saloon, and even before that I had to make my way up the streets to get to it. Stopping in the shadows by a hardware store before crossing Greene Street, I thought I should hide the Greener as best I could. Pushing it up under my lightweight coat I held it by the barrel. I wanted to be able to get it into action as quickly as possible and figured I could let it slide down my hand then bring it up.
When I finally was able to get it into position, I didn’t like the cumbersome way it felt. This was Silverton afterall. Would it be that strange for a man to walk into a saloon with a shotgun? I made sure my badge was hidden, but wanted to be able to flash it if needed. Staying as much as I could in the shadows I moved across Greene Street, moved up to the alley and ducked in it. I’d make my way up the alley a couple of blocks.
I hadn’t gone very far, when I could hear the commotion of wickedness and revelry. It was primarily along Blair Street, but also along some of the side streets. It was too early to move in on Johnson so I found a darkened spot behind a building. Moving deep into the shadows, I plunked myself down and began my wait. I knew the dives and saloons wouldn’t start to quiet down for several hours yet, and some of them were open all night closing only for a couple of hours in the morning to clean up the joint.
The Silver Bucket was a half block up then two blocks down on Blair Street. I sat there thinking of the past week or so. Of Ferguson, the store owner being killed for standing up for his rights. Of Devlin, shot down while in my custody. I thought of the beating my friend Morgan Appleby took and then the fight at the Wells Fargo office and the one at the house of Ron Barnes.
I had sent a telegram to the new U.S. Marshal in Denver, Walter Smith, telling him of my actions. I knew what Dave Cook would do as well as Jens Blasco, but Smith was not known to me. I hoped he would approve of my actions.
“Yur in my spot,” came the slurred voice a man startling me. I had dozed off, and his voice along with the reeking smell of liquor emanating from him brought me quickly to my senses. “Yuh, need to find yur own place, theesen’s mine.”
“Okay friend, no need to get yurself all riled up over it. Yuh can have yur spot, if’n yuh help me up,” I replied trying to act as if I was in a stupor.
He reached down his arm and bent over. I grasped it and when I began to pull I realized that I was going to bring the drunk down on top of me. Moving to the side I held his arm while struggling to get up on my own. “Theesen my spot, jist so yuh’s know,” he muttered then slid down where I had been sitting.
Before I had taken two steps I could hear him snoring or snorting was more like the sound. He was hard to see in the darkness and as I looked down, I wondered how he would survive the winter up here. Parson Chapman had introduced me to the Reverend Sinclair who I knew fed the down-and-outs during the winter months, those who did not work for the mines or did not have the means to make it down to Durango. I don’t know if he had a place where they could stay though.
I shook myself to make sure I was awake and opened my coat so I would have easy access to my pistol, then moved on out of the alley. There were a few people still on the streets with some derelicts lying by hitching rails. I also noticed that there were two men handcuffed to the posts. In a few minutes I found myself standing outside the Silver Bucket. There were still several patrons at tables and along the bar. My glance then took in a staircase to my right. Breathing a prayer, I then pulled my hat down low and walked in moving slowly but directly toward the staircase. I wasn’t sure of the time, so I looked around the room to hopefully find a clock. There was one right above the entrance; twenty minutes past midnight.
No one tried to stop me as I started up the steps, and I didn’t look around to see if anyone was even paying attention. As I topped the stairs, I looked down a hallway with two rooms on one side, and three on the other. I hadn’t bothered to even think that there may be more than one room. I decided to walk down the hall and begin from there working my way back to the stairs.
Outside the first door, I stopped, checked the Greener then pulled my pistol making sure it was loaded and ready. I listened outside the door, then reached down to slowly try turning the knob. Locked. I took a deep breath and hoped I would make too much noise as I kicked the door in. It was now, I …