Then I observed that most people are motivated to success by their envy of their neighbors.  But this, too, is meaningless, like chasing the wind.”  

–Ecclesiastes 4:4 (NLT)

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

     I walked through the saloon doors then took a step to my left to let my eyes adjust and so I could survey the room.  It was crowded and much warmer than outside though most of the customers had their coats or jackets on; it also smelled like beer, sweat, and vomit.  In my experience that was the norm unless the bartender and owner mopped the floors regularly.

     Now to find McGinnis.  I was at a disadvantage not knowing what he looked like.  As my eyes gathered in the customers I noticed a man to my left that was watching me.  One of McGinnis’.  A  slick-looking man was at the bar wearing his gun low; that must be the Kid, and the table in the back next to him were three men, the best dressed I figured was McGinnis.

     It was time to get this started.  Heading towards the bar, not many paid attention to me, I was just another customer, so I took notice of those who did.  So far, I had counted four men who most likely were his minions.  

     “Whiskey?” the barkeep asked as I stepped up to the bar.  

     “McGinnis,” came my sharp reply.  It sort of took him back and he had a puzzled look on his face as if I was asking for a particular brand of whiskey.  I stared hard at the man and repeated, “McGinnis!”

     The Kid standing at the end of the bar took notice moving to the corner.  His hands were low, near his gun.

     The bartender finally answered, “Who should I tell is asking for him?”

     “United States Deputy Marshal Miles Forrest,” I barked, turning slightly toward the Kid and the table where I thought McGinnis was sitting.

     “Get out lawdog,” came a menacing voice which almost made me chuckle.  It was the Kid, now moving away from the bar.

     “If you’re Malloy, I’ll deal with you after I arrest McGinnis.”  That made him sneer, like the real tough man he thought he was.  It ranckled him that I paid him little mind.

     His hand moved slightly closer to the butt of his gun.  “Arrest for what?”

     “Sonny-boy, move aside if he is sitting behind you I’d hate for you to get in my way.”  His face was turning red; good, I wanted him angry.  It was then that the three men at the table had moved slightly.  I wished the Kid wasn’t standing there, I could take all three of them out with the Greener, but as it was the Kid would have to come first.

     “Big man, standing there with a shotgun!” snarled the Kid.

     I moved the Greener to my left hand, and moved my jacket so I could have freer access to my pistol.  “If you’re that sneaky Kid who only shoots people in the back, I might as well deal with your first.  You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Sheriff Charlie Gold.”

     A voice from the table piped up, “I thought you said that sheriff was dead.”

     Not taking my eyes from Malloy I answered, “Not hardly.  Now unbuckle your gunbelt or go for it,” I paused, then added, “Do you have a name besides Kid, I always like to know who I’m sendin’ to their Maker.”

     I was half expecting it.  He didn’t reply, but went for his gun.  He was fast, too fast for his shot went wide and I heard a grunt from a man in the room, while I drew my pistol and shot the Kid through the breadbasket, splitting his breastbone in half.  His eyes widened and that was the last expression he would ever make.  One of the men at the table pulled his gun, but was hindered by the table.  I shot him twice before he had leveled his gun above the table.  It was time to make a switch.  Quickly I holstered my pistol then brought the Greener up to bear.

     Foolish!  Both men at the table fired.  I felt the sting of a bullet, but I cut loose with one barrel, instantly killing one man and knocking the other man, McGinnis, over backward.

I saw the bartender move to bring a shotgun up from under the bar.  My other barrel cut loose on him, knocking him back against the counter behind him breaking several bottles. The other pieces of buckshot did a job on more bottles and the grand mirror on the wall.

     I knew there was at least one more man in the room.  With the shotgun empty I dropped it to bring my pistol up again.  A man shot, the bullet whizzing past me hitting the bar.  My pistol blasted, once, twice, the second bullet hitting the man.  I only had one more shell in the gun; I hoped there weren’t any others.

     It was still, so I reached down to pick up the Greener and reloaded it.  With that done, I shouted, “Anyone else want to join this little circus?”  There were no takers, so I continued, “If not, I’d be obliged if all of you would be kind enough to put both hands on the table.  If I see anyone not complyin’ I’ll figure that you are against me, and you and whoever is sitting next to you will feel a load of lead.”

     From what I could see all complied with my wishes.  I half-turned to walk over to where McGinnis was on the floor…

Again I observed all the oppression that takes place in our world.  I saw the tears of the oppressed, with no one to comfort them.  The oppressors have great power, and the victims are helpless.”  

–Ecclesiastes 4:1, NLT

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

     I walked as a man on a mission.  It was half a dozen blocks up to the Glass Slipper.  I decided not to go up Blair Street; that would give notice that I was on my way if McGinnis had anyone watching.  I had just turned the corner when the wind picked up.  Between the buildings I felt a rush swirl around me, then on down the road picking up debris, dust, and anything else that might be on the ground.

     Now I wasn’t much into omens, but I had experiences with strange occurrences in my life.  Was it just natural, or some sort of supernatural phenomenon that blew past me?  I stopped at the corner leading onto Blair Street.  The Glass Slipper was up at the end of the block.  It was there the thought struck me–why didn’t I wait to get more help?  Then I caught myself smiling, who else was there besides Charlie and a deputy scared of anything that moved.

    Omen or not, the wind made me think of a time, when a rushing, mighty wind came upon those disciples in the upper room.  A wind that signified the coming of power.  It caused me to think of Parson Chapman praying for me at that moment, and I had to chuckle slightly as I whispered a little prayer.  “All right Lord, let’s get this done.”

     I didn’t hurry up the street.  It was cold enough that the doors were shut on most of the businesses of vice.  There were no hawkers or drunks around, just miners that were going in and out of the establishments, and one lone marshal.  

     Since the outer doors were shut I couldn’t look inside the saloon.  I tried peering through one of the windows, but to no avail.  Pausing to look at my situation, I tried to imagine what it looked like inside.  Was the bar in front of me, or to one of the sides?  Where would McGinnis be?  At a table, in an office, and what of this hot-shot Kid Mallow?  I could blast out the window, that would get everyone’s attention, but it might also hurt innocent bystanders.  Ha, that is if anyone in this place was innocent.

     At that moment there were three miners coming down the hill just finishing off their shift and were headed into the Glass Slipper.  I would just ease in with them.  I felt the breeze again around my neck as I joined them to enter.  One of them nodded at me, to which I returned a nod.

     Another one said, “Now only one beer tonight, Levi,” admonished one of the miners.  

    “Why’d yuh bring us to this place?” grumbled the man identified as Levi.

     “Closest one to the mine,” came the answer.

     The man who had greeted me grunted, “What difference does it matter?”

     I walked in with them, stopped at the entrance while they went on up to the bar.  I wanted my eyes to adjust and look over the people in the room.  The bar was in front of me with tables in front, I counted seven–lucky number or so some say.  To the right of the bar was a room, could be an office and leaning at the bar in front of the door was a young kid–Mally maybe?  Scanning the room I saw another man seated to my left, doing nothing but watching the crowd.  I’m sure there were more in the room if what Tanner had told me was correct.

     Time to introduce myself…

So I saw that there is nothing better for people than to be happy in their work.  That is why they are here!  No one will bring them back from death to enjoy life in the future.”

–Ecclesiastes 3:22, NLT

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

     He fired!  Too quickly.  I had learned through many years of experience to make the first shot count–which I did.  My return shot hit him, but I couldn’t tell where.  My second shot found its mark on his lower left side.  The man sagged, eyes glaring to the floor of the wooden porch.  With the shots I looked around, but guns fired in Silverton was not a big thing.  

     The door opened and Doc Minton hollered out, “What in tarnation….”  Then he looked down to see the body on the porch.  I moved his direction as he stooped down to examine the body.  “Here, help me get him inside.”

     Holstering my pistol, I set the Greener by the front door and helped the doctor lift the man into his office.  The man was moaning as I turned to retrieve my shotgun leaving the doctor with him.  Upon my return I heard the man in whispered voice, “I don’t want to die.  Help me…”

     “Son, I won’t lie to you.  You’re in bad shape and there’s not much I can do for you,” replied Doc Minton.

     I looked at the man who I could see was a bloody mess.  The doctor looked at me, shaking his head.  “That one bullet hit his gun, taking the hammer off making it a piece of shrapnel tearing into his chest,” he informed me.  “The second one, well, you know what it did.”

     The man was trying to talk, but words were not coming out.  Finally, he put a hand to the pocket on his shirt.  “My mother’s address, tell her that, that, I died a good man.  She doesn’t know that I went to the bad.”

     “Listen,” I leaned forward hoping that he could hear me, “if you’re not right with the Lord you best be doin’ it quick.”

     “Let him die in peace, for goodness sake!” exclaimed the doctor.  

     Not taking my eyes from the dying man, I simply stated, “That’s what I’m tryin’ to do.”  He was a young man, not more than twenty, if that.  “Ask Jesus to save you, then you can go in peace.”

     He reached up, gripping me by his good hand, eyes widening.  “Really, that’s all…”

     “That’s all,” and upon saying that, there was the hint of a smile on his face and then the light of life went from him.

     “What are you?” snapped the doctor with bitterness in his voice. “A preacher or a lawdog?  Is that how you get your peace, shoot them then try to save them?”

     I took the hand from the man grasping onto my jacket and lowered it to his chest.  “Doc, I take no joy in takin’ the life of anyone.  I take even less joy in knowin’ that I might send them to their Maker unprepared to meet Him.”  Straightening up, I asked.  “Do you know him?”

     The doctor shook his head, then started going through the man’s pockets.  He found the letter in the pocket addressed to a Mrs. Doris Wingate of Canton, Ohio.   He glanced at the letter inside, looking first to the signature.  It read, “Your darling son, Colin.”

     “Colin Wingate?” I questioned in a solemn tone.

     I wasn’t expecting an answer, so I turned to go back to my duty.  “I’ll be back, see if you can gain some information about the man.  If you don’t want to write the letter to his mother I will.”

     The doctor muttered something I couldn’t make out, then said.  “If you’re going after McGinnis, he won’t be as easy as this.”

     I nodded, gave a slight smile and answered, “Most likely not.”  Then walked to the door.  “I’m sorry to say, but you need to be expectin’ more business,” and with that I walked on out to only what the Lord knows.

Then I realized that God allows people to continue in their sinful ways so he can test them.  That way, they can see for themselves that they are no better than animals.”  

–Ecclesiastes 3:17, NLT

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

     I glared at Tanner, “Where can I find McGinnis and this so-called Kid?”

     A look of fear came across his face and he had trouble answering.  “You can stay here, I won’t need the help from the likes of you.”

     Then I heard a sound from the area of the cells, then Doc Minton hollered, “Marshal, get in here!”

     Charlie’s eyes were open, moving about frantically.  “Miles,” he groaned out a whisper.  “They tend to stay in the Glass Slipper.”  He closed his eyes and I thought he had gone back to sleep.  Just as I started to rise and go out.  “Miles,” came the moaning voice again.  “Be careful…”  He wanted to say more, but passed out.

     Reaching down I patted him on his good shoulder, “I will Charlie, I will.”

     “Marshal,” came the voice of the doctor, “did you look closely at this wound when you dressed it?”

     I gave a little shrug, then answered, “I was more concerned with getting him patched than doin’ a thorough examination.”

     “For your consideration,” he began, looking up from Charlie, “he was shot in the back.  I think he was trying to warn you.”

     That would be Charlie.  “He goin’ to be all right?”

     Doctor Minton stood to his feet, then looked me up and down.  “He’s lost a lot of blood, but he should be all right barring infection.  I’ll come back by tomorrow to check on him.  If he comes to see if you can get him to eat.  He needs to build up his strength.”

     I went back to see Tanner as the doctor was putting his coat on and putting his tools back in his bag.  He nodded to me as he went to the door and stepped out.  After I got my directions, I followed behind him.  He was halfway down the street when I noticed that a man seemed to be following him, walking on the other side of the street.  I glanced up towards Blair street and my destination, but figured I should make sure the doctor got home safely.  I began to follow, at a distance, staying mostly in the shadows, not hurrying but keeping my attention primarily on the stalker.

     The man stopped at the entrance of the store next to the corner as the doctor crossed the street and moved northward.  I slipped into the alcove of a business, watching.  A few seconds went by, then I saw the man slowly move to the corner to peer around, then he continued on.  I made my move to cross the street, glancing backward to make sure I wasn’t being followed.

     I was reminded of a rat, the way the man darted here, then over there.  Quick moves, not the kind one would make if they were truly good at following.  In my mind, I thought of him as a runt, for he was not a big man.  I breathed a prayer, as I continued to follow him. 

     Doc reached his office which included his home upstairs and went in.  The man I was following pulled his gun moving closer to the structure.  He didn’t bother to check if anyone was following as he stepped up on the porch.  I now hurried to get in position.  Holding the Greener in my left hand, I pulled my pistol.

     As the man reached down to turn the knob, I hollered from the edge of the property, “Hold it!  Put the gun down!”

     He turned, pointed the gun at me…