“So, are you all packed and ready to go?” inquired Betty Chapman before taking a sip of tea.  Betty didn’t drink coffee, so Molly made the ladies a pot of tea while we all sat around the table.  It was the Preacher and his wife, along with Doc and Edith.

     Molly reached over to pat Betty on the hand.  “I’m packed,” then should looked over at me.  “I just hope he remembered to get me a ticket.  The state provided for him.”
     I gasped, then proclaimed, “I knew there was something I forgot to do!”  

     “Oh, hogwash,” muttered Molly, “I know you have it in your vest pocket.”

     “Miles, what is it that the governor wants you to do?” questioned Parson Chapman.

     Shrugging my shoulders, I answered, “I have no idea.  I had a telegram waitin’ for me when I came in with my prisoner.  ‘Get to Denver…Governor wants us. –McBride’  I was told that the governor comes up with whims now and again.”  I paused, turning my attention to Doc.  “I talked with Charlie.  He said he would deal with the prisoner.”  I stopped to take a sip of coffee.  “By the way, he hasn’t regained consciousness, has he?”

     “He lost a lot of blood, and that falling off the horse didn’t help him either,”  replied Doc, who put a grin on his face.  “If he wasn’t so badly hurt I’d chuckle some knowing that he fell off into a patch of prickly pear and cholla.”  He pointed a bony finger at me.  “Miles, if you weren’t leaving I’d have you over to pick all those spines off him.  I spent over an hour getting them out.”

     I shook my head slightly.  “Luke Sims.  You don’t recall anyone by that name, or at least the last name?” I asked Doc.

     He pulled on his ear, “Not that I can recall, and his face isn’t familiar either.”

     “Well, if Charlie can come up with a reason or a name, have him send me a telegraph.  We’re staying at the Windsor Hotel.”

     There was some friendly chatter going on, mostly the men with the men and the ladies held their own conversation.  The train was leaving at six o’clock that evening.  I had been able to secure a berth for Molly should she want it.  It would take us about a day to get to Denver as we had to make a couple of changes along the way.

     Doc smiled, “I hear you have Enrique working now, taking care of your horses.  What is he nine, ten?”

     “Doc, he’s fourteen now.  And you know that Alejo is working full time for Bert Winfield?”

     “No!  I can’t imagine him being that old,” he muttered, shaking his head.

     I looked at the clock.  “Molly, we’d best be sayin’ our goodbyes and head towards the station.”

     We started to stand, and the preacher interrupted us.  “I think we should have some prayer over our good friends that the Lord will keep them safe on their journey.”  There was agreement and we stood around the table holding hands while the preacher prayed a sincere prayer.  Afterward, he came to give me a big hug.  “Be safe…I’ll be praying.”

     I grabbed the Greener and then reached for Molly’s arm.  “Are you really going to take that shotgun to Denver?” asked Edith, with a frown on her face.

     Giving my best grin, “I wouldn’t be caught without it.”

     “Perate!’ came the voice from the kitchen.  “Perate! I am coming.”  Emelda rushed out from the kitchen with a bag of sandwiches and other delights for our trip.  “For you,” she said seemingly embarrassed.

     “Let’s go,” I spoke to Molly.  “Let’s see what the Lord has for us.  Who knows…?

How wonderful to be wise, to be able to analyze and interpret things.  Wisdom lights up a person’s face.”  –Ecclesiastes 8:1 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

     His gun was clearing leather when I hit the ground.  Immediately I kicked out hitting his knee causing him to lean my direction, then I struck with my fist to the spot where my bullet had taken him.  The impact and the pain caused him to drop to the ground and he released his grip on the pistol.  My hand came back bloody.  Unless I could get him down from these rocks he most likely would bleed out.

     Picking his gun up from where he dropped it, I stuck it behind my gunbelt.  “Mister, if’n you don’t cooperate, there’s a good chance you’re gonna die here in these rocks.”  He was still quite pale from the blow I had given him.  “You have a name, I don’t like to bury men without knowin’ their names.”

     “Sims,” he said, finally gaining control of himself.  “Luke Sims.”

     I shook my head slightly as I tried to remember his face or anyone by that name.  Nothing came.  “Why are you stalkin’ me?  I don’t know you from Adam.”

     “Get me down from here and I’ll tell you.”

     He was in no condition to bargain, so I simply told him, “You’re going down, either alive or dead.  It really don’t make any difference why you’re after me.  I, at least won’t have to be worryin’ about you any more.”  I paused, letting him chew on that for a few seconds.  

     “I’m a-hurtin’,” he proclaimed with a grimace.

     Giving him a half-grin, I simply replied, “I can imagine.  Now you can bleed out, or we can get you down and perhaps you’ll have a chance to live and go to prison.”

     He held out his hand to me, so I could help him to his feet.  There was a little path down to my right which we started down with him going first as there was room for only one person at a time.  The path came out where he had his horse tied.

     “You have anything in your belongin’s that I can use to bandage you up?”

     “There’s a shirt that you can use,” he muttered.

     I went over, first emptying his rifle, then thrusting it in the scabbard.  Then I opened his saddlebags finding the shirt.   I folded it over a couple times, leaving the sleeve dangle to use to help tying it in place.  The shirt he was wearing was plastered to the wound, the blood beginning to coagulate.  I would leave it up to Doc to take care of that and I placed the shirt over his wound and tied it down tightly in place.

     “Think you can ride?” I asked, and he knew that the alternative would be to tie him belly-down.

     He put his boot in the stirrup.  “If you give me a boost to get in the saddle, I can ride.”

     A few seconds later he was in the saddle, leaning over to ease the pain in his side.  “Hold on, my horse is down in the arroyo.”

     Ten minutes later we arrived.  I handed him up the reins as I went down into the arroyo to get Star.  As soon as I reached the bottom, I heard a “harrup” and Luke Sims took off over the desert land.  I didn’t rush, I mounted Star and we went back down the wash until he found a place where he could climb out.  Reaching the top I could see Sims thirty yards away, weaving in the saddle.  

     Patting Star on the neck, I said, “I don’t reckon I know what he’s tryin’ to do.  Let’s just mosey towards him and keep watch.”

     It wasn’t long, maybe twenty seconds, he…

I discovered that God created people to be upright, but they have each turned to follow their own downward path.”  –Ecclesiastes 7:29 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     There was a reflection of something, rifle barrel perhaps?  Leaving Star in the arroyo knowing that he could not be seen I moved along the wash around to the back of the boulders where the mysterious man waited.  There were  forty yards between the wash and the boulders.  If the man should look back over his shoulder he would surely see me.  All that there was between me and the rocks was a few clumps of yucca.  I moved slowly, for I knew rapid movement tends to draw attention, moving from plant to plant.

     Reaching the boulders I now had another dilemma.  The man was in front, half-way up in the rocks.  From where I was I could not get to him.  The rock where I was standing was too sheer to climb.  I decided to move to my left hoping that there may be a way up.  

     I was just a little ways around the rocks when a small slide of gravel came down.  Natural, or was the man moving or just shifting his position?  I could possibly make it up into the rocks but not holding the rifle.  Besides, it was too big for use in these rocks.  Setting it beside the rock, I frowned.  I would have to use both hands to climb, leaving me vulnerable.  Did the man know I was there?

     Quiet was the word.  Taking off my boots, I climbed with sock feet, praying as I hoisted myself to a level where three of the large boulders came together.  He had a rifle so I knew he would be in the same dilemma, not able to move it quickly among the rocks.  Moving between two of the boulders, I looked up and saw a boot, worn from wear.  It moved causing more gravel to fall, this time down on me.  Realizing I couldn’t go that way I turned to move off to my right.  Stopping I looked back with a smile.  I had an urge to shoot him in the foot, but I let it pass.

     My gun, still in the holster, as I moved trying to find handholds to pull me up.  If I could get up, I would be slightly above him.  That’s where I wanted to be.  I gave a silent grunt, while pulling myself up.  Keeping close to the rock I slid around where I could look down.  The man was in a little culvert between two rocks.  I didn’t recognize him.

     Quietly I pulled my gun, “Mister, if you don’t want to meet your Maker real quick, I’d drop the rifle.”

     He jerked, surprised by my voice.  There was no movement, but I could almost feel the screws turning in his head.  “I wouldn’t,” I warned him.

     It was to no avail.  He turned, firing, but his rifle barrel glanced against the boulder causing his shot to go way wide.  I fired, hitting him in the side, turning him.  He tried to bring up the rifle–I fired again this time hitting the receiver slamming the rifle from his hands.

     He realized then, without the rifle, that it was no use.  Putting his hand to his side, he removed it bloody.  “You’ve played hob!” he exclaimed, slumping down to sit beside the rock that had been in front of him.

     Holstering my gun, I slid down the rock to where he was sitting.  He saw that I did not have a gun in my hand.  I was helpless while he went for the one in his holster…

I searched everywhere, determined to find wisdom and to understand the reason for things.  I was determined to prove to myself that wickedness is stupid and that foolishness is madness.”  –Ecclesiastes 7:25 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     I watched as Mateo lifted his gun to fire as I was right behind him.  Slowly he lowered the gun, shaking his head.  “Too dangerous a shot in town,” he declared, clearly frustrated.

    Glancing down the road where the rider went I quickly went over to where I could see clear tracks, then turned to hustle up to saddle Star.  When I was sheriff I always kept a horse saddled, just in case, but being a Deputy U.S. Marshal and now a Colorado Ranger, there was no need.  No need, until today.

     “Tell Molly I’m goin’ to get Star, then head after him,” I informed Mateo and I rushed on up the street.

     It was a good forty minutes before I was on the road.  I stopped in front where I could look down at the tracks once more.  Mateo came out to join me.  “Tell Molly I’ll be back before dark.”  I gave Star a nudge, and he took off.  That horse likes to run, and I let him for the first couple of hundred yards, then slowed him down not wanting to miss in case the rider turned off the road.

     It was one thing to shoot at me, but what he did was downright reckless shooting through the windows of the diner.  One thing became clear with him doing that was that he had no real regard for life.  The tracks were clear and we were a mile from town, so I became much more cautious.  My eyes began to take in the surroundings, the trees, the rocks, the shadows, possible places for an ambush.  

     In the distance I thought I heard the evil cackle of laughter.  It had been some time since the Pale Rider had stalked me so openly.  I know that he was behind every attempt on my life, but this was blatant.  I remembered the calming words of the Savior coming back to me.  That nothing would happen to me until it was time for me to go to glory.  The problem is that I didn’t know which time that would be.  It caused me to smile though.  I knew that He was in control and I had nothing to fear from the sinister forces of evil.

     Looking down, I no longer saw the tracks of the big palomino.  Had he turned off and I missed it?   Quickly I glanced at my backtrail.  I could now be the one who was being followed.  I brought Star to a halt.  There was a small arroyo back a short piece; he could have moved off the road there.  I turned Star to go back and look over the area carefully.  At first glance, I saw nothing, but then noticed that a bit of dirt had fallen from the small bank.  It might be nothing, but on the other hand.  I urged Star down into the arroyo and headed on downstream.  I figured it would eventually go into the La Plata River, but I wasn’t planning on traveling that far.

     I brought Star to a halt after traveling about twenty minutes in the arroyo.  Tracks moved out of the arroyo to the west.  They were not clear, but they were recent, so they had to have been made by the person I was chasing.  Dismounting, I ground reined Star and moved up the bank to peer over it.  Someone could be sitting there just waiting for my head to appear.  I could see that another was moved down to connect with the arroyo I was riding in, then above that wash was a large group of boulders.  After surveying what was in front of me I moved back down and mounted Star.  I decided not to ride out, but to continue to follow the arroyo.

     When I came to the fork where the dry wash entered the arroyo, I reined Star in that direction.  I stopped, thinking I had seen movement up in the large rocks.  Whoever it was would be expecting me from the front, but I had now flanked him.  I dismounted again, this time pulling my rifle from the scabbard.

     After a short distance, but seemingly a long time, I was fifty or so yards away from the boulders when I spotted the palomino.  Then…