Author: Ira Paine

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on

Reading the confession by Mark Barstow a smile crept on my face.  This will get Amos Martin to trial and to prison.  I found myself shaking my head, that’s the shame of it.  A good man, for the most part, with a good business, and aid to the community, but because of extreme prejudice would spend much of his life in prison.  What will happen to his business?  His health?  

     I had been debating whether or not to have those affected by Martin’s schemes to go with me to arrest him.  That really wasn’t their job, but it would be good to have witnesses with me in case Martin decided to do something.
     “I have no animosity towards him,” remarked Father Cisneros when I spoke with him.  “Truthfully, I pray daily for his soul.”
     “Father, if’n yur up to makin’ it, I’d appreciate it if you’d come with me.  I understand if you can’t,” I said with concern.  He was still some beat up from the Feakes and Barstow.  “I’d like to have some witnesses when I confront Martin.”
     He acquiesced only if Rev. Chapman would be willing to go with him.  I hoped the Parson would see his way to doing so, but he was still concerned about Betty and the what might have been, plus knowing that he killed a man weighed on his mind.  However, within the hour I had both men of God walking with me up the street towards Martin’s Hardware.
     “Miles?” questioned my pastor, “You’re not going to pronounce judgment on Martin, are you?”
     Scowling at him, I replied, “Parson, my job is to arrest, hopefully peacefully, then it will be up to the people to decide guilt or innocence under the law.  Unless I am protectin’ the two of you, or myself, then I’ll not harm the man.”
     The preacher, bowed his head, not in prayer, but in shame for doubting my integrity.  “Sorry, Miles, I know you better than to think that.  Forgive me?”
     “Nothin’ to forgive,” I stated, then when we stepped up on the boardwalk, I moved the Greener from my right hand to the left.  Standing outside the store I looked at each man, nodded then tried to open the door.  It was locked.  This time of day Martin should have been open for business.
     “Martin!  Amos Martin!  Open up, this is Deputy United States Marshal Miles Forrest.  Open up!”
     “Miles, there’s no light on in the store,” declared Rev. Chapman who had been peering through the window.
     “Stand back,” I ordered, then kicked at the door, breaking it open.  “Martin!” I hollered again.
     “Stay behind me, in fact get down behind one of those counters, this might be an ambush,” I commanded, then began to move slowly down the long aisle of the store towards the back.
     There was no one in the store.  I glanced at the narrow staircase in the backroom.  I knew that Martin and his now married daughter Agatha, had lived upstairs.  Taking each stair softly and as quietly as possible I began to ascend.  This would be a terrible place if Martin would throw open the door and start shooting.  I would have no chance.  But nothing…I reached the door at the top of the stairs, turned the knob and carefully opened it.  I didn’t know what to expect.
     It was empty…  
     Both the men were waiting for me at the bottom of the staircase.  I shrugged, and was shaking my head when I got to them.  “Where do you think he went?” questioned Father Cisneros.
     “I’m not sure.  I’m goin’ to have a look out back, then if’n my suspicions are right, have a talk with Moses Vexler down at the livery,” I paused in frustration, then sighed.  “You men can go on home.  Thanks for comin’ with me.”
     “Miles, let us pray for you, before we leave,” requested Parson Chapman.  As was my custom I didn’t bow my head nor close my eyes as the two men of God put their hands on my shoulder and prayed with the Parson leading.  I nodded my thanks and appreciation to them then walked away.
     Opening the back door carefully, I peeked out then opened the door looking around before stepping down into the alley.  There had been a horse there.  I moved to where it had been tied, bent down to study the tracks…

 

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

Storms end, and calm seas return, but a damaged ship needs to return to port and find that solid ground of their lives again.”
                    –Kenneth Pratt  (Everson Solstice)

       “I would hurry to my shelter from the raging wind and the storm.”

                    –Psalm 55:8 (HCSB)
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Imagine!  Imagine your life without God.  If God wasn’t there to guide your steps what possibly could have happened?  If the Holy Spirit wasn’t directing you in decision-making, where might you be?  That is something we should think about and is the thoughts in the first few verses of Psalm 124.

          1 — “If it had not been the LORD who was on our side,” let Israel now say–
          2 — “If it had not been the LORD who was on our side, when men rose up against us,
          3 — Then they would have swallowed us alive, when their wrath was kindled against us;
          4 — Then the waters would have overwhelmed us, the stream would have gone over our soul;
          5 — Then the swollen waters would have gone over our soul.”  (NKJV)

     This Psalm can speak of the past history of Israel, but it might also be a song regarding the current trek.  The road was full of dangers from obstacles to thieves who would not hesitate to steal and beat the pilgrim and then leave him for dead.  This is a Psalm of great encouragement!  Think back to the times when the Lord delivered you.  F.B. Meyer states, “One shudders to think what and where we might have been without the delivering, preserving hand of our God”.
     Stop and think for a minute of those times.  See, this is a very important Psalm for us to consider.  It should remind each of us of the times that God delivered in the past, and if He did it then, when present trials and troubles come our way we can more easily depend on Him for deliverance again.  Maybe the writer looked back down the trail at the ravine that he just crossed.  He may remember a time when he was almost washed away in a flash flood.  Being from Colorado, and also here in Texas those flash floods come without warning.  What was the flood in your life that almost swept you away?  Maybe there was more than one.  How did you make it to safety?  It was not because of advance warning, because the waters came suddenly and rapidly.  
     Think for a moment of the floods that have come your way.   A flood composed of sickness, a traumatic accident or diagnosis, crime, natural disasters, the betrayal of a friend. and others that could be listed.  But wait, you went through them, or were kept from them.  God doesn’t promise to save us from the trials and troubles of life.  Daniel went into the lions’ den.  The Hebrew children went into the fiery furnace.  The children of Israel traveled through the waters that were parted.  In dire times the words of Jesus may come to you, “And I say to you, My friends, do not be afraid of those who kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do.” (Luke 12:4, NKJV)
     One more thought:  who is it that you give credit for salvation?  Who saved you from the terrible flood?  Who brought you through to victory in the terrible battle.  When the storm howls, and do not forget that Satan howls like a roaring lion, who is it that holds you secure?  Since you have looked back at some of the trials and victories in your life, now go back and give proper credit for the success, for the salvation.

               “‘Til the storm passes over,
               ‘Til the thunder sounds no more,
               ‘Til the clouds roll forever from the sky,
               Hold me fast, let me stand
               In the hollow of Thy hand:
               Keep me safe ’til the storm passes by.”
                         –Mosie Lister

 

Coffee Percs

by Ira Paine, Posted on

She then removed the coffee pot and poured a tall ceramic mug full of coffee and put it on the table before him, adding a smile as a sweetener.”

                      –C.J. Petit  (Tate)
 
Now ain’t that sweet sentiment?  Pard, that’s the way it should be.  Along with a good, hot, strong, black cup of coffee all a person needs is a smile from his sweetie.  Do that in the mornin’ and it sets the tone for the whole day.  The truth be told, however, Pard, I’m usually the one who makes the coffee in the mornin’.  But when the wife gets up, there’s a “goon mornin'” then a hug.  Yep, that’s the way to get the day started, oh, along with meetin’ with the Lord first thing every mornin’.
     No philosophyzin’ or politicalizin’ this mornin’, just some coffee talk.  I read where one ol’ boy made his coffee so strong that he remarked to a vendor, “If I’m lucky, I make my week’s coffee and by Tuesday and don’t work the rest of the week.”  Pard, that must be some strong coffee.  I’ve heard the complaint that some folks put too much water in their coffee, but…  And from what I hear, and some say it’s the truth, that some old-time Texas Rangers made their coffee strong and thick enough to patch a pothole, but again, that’s just what I heard.
     My Grandpa Jones started rollin’ in his grave when he heard the price of coffee these days.  Grandpa owned a cafe in Boulder, CO and before that a pharmacy in Industry, KS.  They were on a trip and stopped to eat.  Grandpa was appalled that coffee cost a dime.  He slammed his hand on the table, and complained, “Never heard of such a thing as coffee costing more than a nickel.”  But I’m not so old  that I don’t remember when coffee came with the meal, especially breakfast, and there were unlimited refills.  Ha, Pard, that reminds me of goin’ to the Sycamore Inn durin’ college.  Once in a while, we’d have enough money to buy a sweet roll that cost fifty cents.  We made sure we drank at least five cups of coffee to even out the bill; yep, by that time inflation had set in and coffee most everywhere was a dime.
     Say, yur quiet today.  Is it the upcomin’ storm, or did yuh burn the hair off’n yur tongue on the hot coffee.  Pure delight this mornin’.  No harsh words, nothin’ worth talkin’ ’bout in the news, most of it lies anyhow.  But here’s another true story.  I done tolt yuh ’bout my Grandpa Jones, well, here’s one ’bout my Grandpa Adkisson.  Grandpa was a big man, which was causin’ him blood pressure problems.  The doctor put him on a strict diet and Grandpa asked if he could drink coffee.  “Sure,” the doctor said, “drink as much as you want.”  When Grandpa went back to the doctor he had lost weight, but his blood pressure was still up.  It caused the doc to shake his head, then he asked, “How much coffee are you drinking?”  Grandpa thought for only a moment and replied, “Only about five pots a day.”  The doctor advised he cut back to maybe two pots.  See, instead of eatin’ he was drinkin’ coffee.
     Listen, Pard, here’s the truth, if’n yuh get up on the wrong side of the bed, don’t crawl back in.  Just head on out to the kitchen, and make yurself a pot.  Then yuh can relax while it’s a-perkin’ for patience soothes the troubled soul.  When the perkin’s done, take a sip, lean back and thank the good Lord, then take a deeper sip.  It’ll perk up yur mood, sure ‘nough.  Now, see yuh can leave the day not agitated, yur gizzard is smilin’ happy thoughts an’ not makin’ any gurglin’ noises.  Yu’ll have a fine day, long as yuh remember to check yur cinch.
     Vaya con Dios

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

Just remember to keep your eyes on the trail ahead, and check the back trail every now and then.”
                    –Cliff Hudgins  (Viejo and the Lost Child)

       “The little foxes are ruining the vineyards. Catch them, for the grapes are all in blossom.”

                    –Song of Solomon 2:15 (Living Bible)
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               “Why should I fear in the days of evil, when the iniquity at my heels surrounds me?” — Psalm 49:5, NKJV

I had a Boston Terrier when I was a kid.  He loved to run and try to catch your pant leg, but often he would grab hold of your leg.  Not fun.  Then when I was older and married, we had a Beagle.  She was a fast, happy dog who would run and snatch the slippers off your feet when you walked by.  Here, in the Psalm, we see that it is iniquity that is nipping at our heels.
     There is no Goliath in front of us.  There is no storm coming in to frighten us, or a battle that is raging, but some snipping at our heels.  “Temptation is very often indirect,” states Percy Ainsworth–ain’t that the truth.  Remember, the devil sets snares, and is adept at covering his attacks.  He often is lurking around, not doing anything, just waiting.  Waiting for that moment of weakness, or a time when we drop our guard.  He doesn’t make a frontal attack for he knows we can see that coming.  
     Ainsworth writes, “The stronger a man is, the more subtle and difficult are the ways of sin, as it seeks to enter and to master his life.  There are many temptations that never face us, and never give us a chance of facing them.  They follow us.  We can hear their light footfall and their soft whisperings, but the moment we turn round upon them they vanish.”  The problem is, they don’t vanish for good.  When we relax our search, when our vigilance falters and we do not keep an eye on our back trail they show up again, snapping, snarling, and trying to grab at our heels.
     Have you ever noticed how hard it is at times to get a tune out of your mind?  That’s the same way these imps operate.  Sometimes a suggestion comes, you cast it away, but it doesn’t completely leave.  You pray, you sing a song, they go for a while, but soon you hear the snapping of their teeth.  Those thoughts, at times, seem to haunt us.  We’re used to wrestling, to fighting the fight in hand-to-hand combat, but these…these imps are different.  They snap and are gone.  We try to trample them, but too late, they are gone.  These imps take time and patience and prayer to get rid of.  “If we cannot prevent sin from following us, we can at least prevent ourselves from turning and following it.” (Ainsworth)
     We choose our path, and we determine our course.  As we continue in our upward trek to our heavenly home, “these evil things fall off and drop behind.” (Ainsworth)  As we walk the pilgrim pathway, understand that “the battle with sin is not an incident in the Christian life; it is the abiding condition of it.” (Ainsworth)  There will be obstacles in the way, mountains to climb, gorges to cross, that is the way of life.  There will be storms and battles in which we may have a Goliath or some other giant to slay, however, as Ainsworth writes, “there are others we have to outgrow.  They are overcome, not by any one supreme assertion of the will, but by the patient cultivation of all the loftiest and most wholesome and delicate and intensely spiritual modes of feeling and of being.”
     That old sin, that old temptation may change forms.  It may be like cutting off the head of Hydra.  Today, the temptation is anger, and it is conquered, cut off.  The next day you are in despair, a new imp nipping at your heels.  That is taken care of but the morrow will present bitterness, or regret, or, or, or…  Maybe, just maybe, since these are not sins that reveal our need of strength, but just maybe “the sin that dogs our steps has a deeper lesson to teach us–our need of heart-deep holiness.” (Ainsworth)  See, that is the purpose of sanctification, not to clear the path ahead but to quiet the dogs snapping at our heels.  Ainsworth says, “only purity of character can rid us of the persistent haunting peril of the sin that plucks at the skirt of life.”  
     
          “More about Jesus let me learn,
          More of His holy will discern;
          Spirit of God, my teacher be,
          Showing the things of Christ to me.”
                  –Eliza E. Hewitt