I stayed pretty close to the diner during the day. I made it my custom to make a round of the town around ten o’clock at night and I wandered in and out of stores making myself visible during the day. Why? That’s a good question as it was not really my responsibility, but guess I was concerned about my friends and fellow citizens. If Billington and the council had any sense they’d rehire Charlie Gold for marshal, but that would go against their arrogant way of doing things.
The weather had gotten colder, down around freezing, but there was relatively little snowfall, maybe an inch or two. In a couple of weeks I had to make the trip to Silverton and oversee the transfer of ore from the train from Silverton to one that would be heading for Denver. Molly would make that trip with me.
I wouldn’t say we were tense, but we were definitely on the alert. Those three men, especially the one I cracked on the skull, Jasper Fletcher, would be making a move. I surely wished they would do it sooner than later. Get it done and over and let the good Lord be with us.
The U.S. Marshal’s office in Denver answered my telegraph stating that Fletcher was wanted in Kansas for murdering a man in Salina. Since he crossed state lines to escape being arrested, that brought him under my jurisdiction as well. I had no idea who the other two men were and the office in Denver didn’t know of any men who rode with him.
My morning round was just finished and I walked into the diner. Marta was back to her old self, which was a relief to us all. The morning rush was over and the three women were back in the kitchen cleaning up when I entered. As was my habit, I walked over to the stove, took my coat off and placed it on the back of my chair, then propped the shotgun up against the wall behind me to my right. Molly came in taking a seat beside me.
“Pour me a cup too,” she pleaded. “Please.”
I looked at her. “What is that all about?” I asked.
“What? Can’t a wife be nice to her husband?” she replied coyly.
Grabbing a couple of cups off the shelf, I then reached and filled one. Placing it on the table in front of her I said, “There you are dear,” with some playful sarcasm. “Should I get the cream and sugar for you too, my dear?”
As I turned back to the stove the front door opened. I had a cup in one hand, the coffeepot in the other and I half-turned to the sound of the door opening. It was time.
Three men walked in, Fletcher in the middle. As soon as they came in the door, they spread out. I finished pouring my coffee and turned toward them taking a sip. One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that those who are full of evil and have rotting souls, dress like the scum they are. Oh, there are the exceptions, like the card-sharps and gunmen, and those who commit fraud and crimes such as that, but scum dress like scum. You can see it in their appearance and in their countenance. Evil just sort of clings to them. Quickly I thought, “out of the heart.”
“Go ahead,” came the bark from Fletcher. “Enjoy your last cup.”
I eyed the Greener, but it was too far away. He smiled and spoke again. “Not so tough without that shotgun.”
Several months back I remembered being in this situation, three men, spread out, here in the diner. “At least let my wife move back to the kitchen,” I requested.
He eyed her. I’m sure he wondered if there was a gun back there or not. “Don’t go too far,” he said with a leer. “We might have use for you later.” She scurried off to the kitchen.
“Take that last drink!” he ordered. Besides you crackin’ my skull, I’ve been paid good money. I’ll look forward to seein’ you lay on the floor like that drunk in the saloon.”
Somebody paid him? I had to do something before they were too spread out.
Breathing a deep sigh I brought the cup to my lips. For some reason the coffee turned awful bitter. Now was as good a time as any, I flung the cup…

Miles,” murmured Molly as she touched his arm. “No one has come in for food for the prisoner. Think you should go check on him?”
I had just come in, ready to sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee when Molly came up to me with that information. We’d had a nice couple of weeks, but it was overcast and getting colder by the hour. The distant peaks were no longer in view and I reckoned that snow was again on its way.
“You’re right,” I said, then smiled. “But I expect a piece of pie waitin’ when I get back.”
“Oh you do, do you? What you might not realize is that there may not be any pie made”; she laughed as I went out the door.
It was only a few blocks to the jail, but it was cold enough that I turned up the collar of my sheepskin coat. I slowed as I came to the jail. There was no smoke coming from the stovepipe. The city council had hired a jailer.
Moving to the side, I stepped up on the boardwalk and peered in the window. It was too dark to see anything. Going to the door I could now see that it was open slightly. Pushing it open I moved back to the wall. Nothing. Slowly I moved to the doorway, went through and to the left, crouching.
The jail cell was open and it was empty, but there was a body on the floor in front of the cell. I stooped down–it was the body of the jailer. His head had been smashed, then his throat cut.
Leaving things as they were, I went out of the jail and walked hurriedly to the Doc’s office. There was nothing he could do for old Thompson, but he could get the undertaker.
“Doc,” I yelled as I went through the door. “I need to talk to you!”
He walked out of the examination room. “What’s the commotion, Miles. I have a patient.”
“Come outside with me.” As we stepped outside he shivered as he wasn’t wearing a coat. “The jailer, John Thompson, has been killed. Sturgis has escaped; I reckon with the help of his two friends. What I need for you to do is get Micah over there to pick up the body. Much as I hate to, I need to see Billington.”
Quickly I moved back up Main Street and on the block to the south of the jail was the bank and Billington’s office. Going into the bank I got several nods from tellers and customers, but when I started toward Billington’s office I was stopped.
“You can’t go in there, Mr. Forrest.”
I pushed the man aside. “I can and I will.” The door wasn’t locked so I went in. I wasn’t real surprised that there was a meeting of some of the councilmen, but what did surprise me was that Billy Denton was there.
Denton’s eyes widened and looked as if he wanted to run somewhere. Then he touched the butt of his gun. Glancing at him I hollered, “Don’t!” He quickly moved his hand.
“Forrest, you have no call to barge in here. I’ll have you arrested for breaking into my office!” he shrieked.
“Who’s goin’ to enforce it? Billy?” I asked scornfully. “Just thought you should know. John Thompson is dead, and Sturgis is no longer in jail. Then I turned to Billy. “If I ever see you again I’ll beat you to a pulp after what you did to Marta.”
I turned and walked out listening to him call me back. “Forrest, Forrest, you have to do something!”
It was fitting that when I stepped back outside it started to snow. I sighed as I stepped out into the street and headed on back to the diner. “Lord, it seems as if it never stops,” I sighed again as I whispered that little prayer.
Walking back into the diner, Molly looked at me. I shook my head and headed for the stove and my table. Picking up a cup from the counter on the way, I poured a cup of coffee, set it on the table, and took off my coat before sitting down.
Molly came over to me and sat down. Looking at her I simply said. “Thompson’s dead, the prisoner is free.” Taking her hand, “We best be ready.”

When the two men walked out of the office the tension went with them. I didn’t think they would really try anything with my shotgun trained on them.
In the past few days, the weather has been wonderful. The snow was gone, the mud dried up; it felt like spring. Of course there was still snow in the high country, and for sure, winter wasn’t over, but for now it was nice walking around with just a jacket.
With the warm weather I hadn’t seen any more of the wolves. They probably moved on back to higher country plus the fact that Grizz had taken a couple more. He’d been gone a spell now. Over the winter he had kept the diner in meat and we rented a locker at the ice house to keep the meat, so it wasn’t all smoked.
I walked in the diner and at glance I saw the two friends of the town’s jailbird sitting over against the wall. They caught me eye, but that was about it. I went over to my table and set the shotgun down on the table pointing toward them. Just being ornery. There were a couple of tables full and I glanced at the cliental as I poured a cup of coffee.
Doc Jones came in and joined me at the table. I poured him a cup of coffee. “I saw you come in and thought I could get you to buy me a cup of coffee,” he said just before taking his first sip. “Think Molly might have some pie back there?”
“She might; fact is, I haven’t seen her yet,” I paused, it was my turn to take a swallow. “Used to be Doc, that when I walked through that door, she’d come a-runnin’. Hmpf, married life.”
“Miles, you have to take the good with the bad. Before it was sugarlips now it’s a piece of pie.”
Standing up I said, “Doc, help yourself to the coffee. I’m goin’ back to check.”
I walked to the kitchen and there was Anihu working at the stove. Going up to her, I asked. “Where’s Molly and Marta?”
“No say,” then she pointed to the back door.
As I walked out I noticed that Lucas had filled up the wood pile. He’d done a good job since our little talk. Then I heard some sobbing and went around the corner. There was Molly trying to console Marta.
“Oh, excuse me,” turning I started back inside.
“Miles, we’ll be back in a minute,” replied Molly.
I went back to the table where Doc was waiting. The two hardcases had left. I glanced at the table and there was no money. They took advantage of the fact that neither Marta nor Molly was in the room. I’d remember that ifn I saw them again.
“No pie?” asked Doc.
“Don’t know. Marta is havin’ some kind of problem.”
Reaching for the coffeepot I refilled my cup. I looked up and in threw the door came Billington. “Oh, no” I whispered.
“What?” exclaimed Doc.
“Forrest! What are you going to do about that prisoner?”
“Can’t you talk without screamin’ all the time? And what am I goin’ to do with the prisoner? Nothin’.
“Well, he’s conscious now and there needs to be someone at the jail with him; take him food, and such,” remarked Billington already red in the face.
“That’s what the marshal and his deputies are for,” I couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, right, you don’t have a marshal, and you won’t pay for any deputies. Guess that means it’s your job Mr. Head-of-the-City-Council.”
“You put him in there–you go take care of him!”
“Don’t think so, Mr. Billington. First of all I tried to warn you about Billy Denton. You could have had a good marshal sittin’ in there with Charlie Gold, but no…”
About that time, Marta came in. I looked at her and she tried to hide her face from me. Getting up I went to where she was standing at the edge of the kitchen. She had a bruise on her cheek.
“What happened?” I asked very concerned. “This isn’t Charlie’s doin’?”
“No, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going home for the rest of the day.” She then walked through the diner and out the door.
Standing there with hands on my hips I looked in the kitchen. “Molly!…”

Denton was sitting at the desk when we drug the man I cold-cocked in. “Open a cell,” I ordered.
“Wha, what are you doing? You can’t bring him in here!”
“He murdered a man and I’m puttin’ him in a cell until he gains consciousness. Now, open a cell! I won’t say it again!” I commanded.
We laid the gunman on the bed and locked the cell. “Thanks, Jimbo. You must be tired from all that runnin’ back and forth. Here,” I reached in my pocket for a dollar. “Go get yourself a steak.”
He smiled and nodded his thanks. After he left I saw Billy standing, looking at the man on the bed. “He would have shot me,” he said matter-of-factly then an awareness came to his face. “Did you kill his friends?”
“Now why would I do that? They did nothing to break the law, and I far as I know they’re not wanted,” I was watching him squirm. “‘Course they might want come to the jail to check on their friend.”
He put his hand on his gun and started to lift it. “Billy, what do you think you’re doin’?”
“I can’t have the town thinkin’ I back down,” he was almost whimpering.
“Too late for that, the town already knows.”
I was at the door ready to walk out when bursting through it came Councilman Billington. He glanced at me, then Billy, then looked at the man lying on the bed. “He dead?”
“Nope, but he’ll need some lookin’ after and reckon he will have a mild headache,” I replied and started out again when this time Doc Jones walked in.
“I hear there may be need for my services,” he stated.
“Billy, let the Doc see the prisoner.”
“You just can’t open that cell, he’s dangerous!” screamed Billington.
Looking at the Councilman with disgust, I said, “Billy, let the Doc examine the prisoner.”
Billington looked at me. “Did you kill the other two men?”
“You’re the second person to ask me that. What did they do? Are they wanted?”
“You have to!”
“Listen, I don’t have to do anything. There’s your marshal over there who ran from the scene,” I paused and then put my finger in Billington’s chest, “same as you! I brought this man into custody because he killed someone.”
I looked up the street and saw his two companions head the direction of the jail. I smiled and then went over to the corner to sit. “Speakin’ of his friends, here they come.”
“I’m unarmed!” screamed Billington. “Go arrest them, Marshal.”
Billy looked confused and uncertain. It looked at if he wanted to run out of the office, but it was too late, the two toughs were in the doorway.
“Marshal, we want to see our friend!” ordered one.
He sort of stuttered, but didn’t reply. Then they looked at Billington. “Hey, fancy-britches, can your marshal hear?”
“Get out of here immediately!” blustered Billington.
Laughing the men looked at him. One in a dirty fur-hat looked at him and said, “Well, throw us out.”
“Marshal, arrest those men,” yelled Billington. He was worse than a young gal who had come face-to-face with a rattlesnake.
“On what charge?” asked fur-hat and he put his hand on his gun. If it went any further I would have to intervene.
At that time Denton threw his badge on the desk where it bounced and skipped off the edge onto the floor. Bumping into the men he ran out into the street looking for his horse.
The other tough stooped to pick up the badge and held it close to his chest. “How’s it look on me Mr. Fancy-Britches?”
That was enough. “Put it on the desk,” I ordered. “I won’t have you tarnishing a badge of the law.”
They hadn’t seen me over in the corner and when I spoke they jumped. Then they heard me cocking the Greener.
“Hope your head is harder than your friend’s for the barrel of this shotgun is right ready to see.”
He put the badge on the desk, and said, “We just wanted to check on our friend. You hit him right hard.”
“How is he Doc?”
“He’ll have a headache for a while, but the skull isn’t cracked. He should make it long enough to hang.”
When he said that the room became quiet and tension began to rise when…