Come on Miles, sit down, supper is almost ready.”
I came into the camp and sat down across from him by the fire. I looked down and watched him cook, and then saw the scars.
“Miles, you have scars too. They are different from mine in a way, but many of them are similar. Yes, I see the scars, the physical and the spiritual. You received many of them by sacrificing yourself.” He then handed me a cup of coffee.
“I know that You’re with me all the time, but when You come like this there is usually something behind it,” I paused and took a sip wondering if I was asking too much. “Is this the time?”
“How’s the coffee?” He asked. “Troubles are coming. It’s enough for you to know that I am with you. Rest in that knowledge and take courage.”
It was stupid of me to say so, but I looked down and saw His spurs and boots. “I sure do  admire those golden spurs,” then I looked up and He was gone.
I reached over and ate the bacon He cooked. Another stupid thought went through my mind, “I wonder if this is kosher bacon, if there’s such a thing?” Nevertheless I ate it and drank the coffee. Coffee always tasted smoother made with snow. It would be another day and a half before I reached Silverton so I turned in early.
Sometime during the night I wakened, it was still and cold. Then I noticed an putrid odor. “Been wondering if you were going to wake up, friend Miles,” then came the cackle. “He’s given you to me. This time you’re mine.” Then that laugh. I don’t know how a person can snarl and laugh at the same time, but the Pale Rider seemed to have it down.
“Get out!” I cried. “How dare you come in this camp when He’s been here?”
“Turn over Forrest, I want to see your face. I want to stare into your eyes knowing that He has forsaken you.”
“Get out! I know better than that, for He will never leave me or forsake me. You can’t deceive me that way.” I pulled my blanket up over my shoulder and tried to block out his smell.
“Forrest! Forrest, turn over and look at me!” I just ignored him.
“Forrest! I’ll make you pay.”
“Join the club,” and all of a sudden a peace came upon me and I reckoned I went to sleep for it was morning when I woke to the sound of a Camp Robber squawking.
The Pale Rider sort of left my mind as Hawk and I continued our way to Silverton. I don’t know what I expected to find. Maybe Ferguson, maybe my end, but I wasn’t worried.
When I came to the diggings I let Hawk slow to a walk. I wanted to enter the town aware of everything around me. It seemed like there were more miners than ever before. Riding up to the Wells Fargo office I stopped, tied Hawk to the rail, and went in.
“Mister Forrest!” came the exclamation. “How did you get up the trail? They blocked it off and won’t unload the passengers from the train as well.”
“Willie, what’s goin’ on?” I asked.
“They’re not letting anyone from Durango come up here–diphtheria!”
I looked at him and rushed out. I flung myself up on Hawk and gave him a spur to which he took off toward the rail station. The town marshal was there with several deputies. I came upon the marshal and the conductor having an argument.
“Get me and Hawk on that train!” I hollered.
“Can’t do that Mr. Forrest,” the conductor answered.
“The quarantine is that no one can get off. I’m gettin’ on!”
“There’s no room and no tickets available. Sorry.”
“I’ll stay with Hawk in the stock car,” then I pulled my badge. “And this is my ticket!” He finally agreed.
Now I was anxious. The ride down would only be about four hours, but I believed it was the longest four hours I had ever spent. When we stopped at the station in Durango, I jumped off before the train stopped. Hurrying along I hollered at Henry, “Take care of Hawk,” and I rushed to the eatery. It was closed.
Muttering to myself, “Marta’s, she has to be at Marta’s.” And I found myself running.
There was a black wreath on the door of Marta’s home. I banged on the door and it slowly opened. Entering the home, Marta grabbed me by the shoulders but I shrugged her off. My eye caught movement in the darkened corner; he was there–the Pale Rider. I moved through the little house and on the bed…

It was early, Molly and I were sitting near the stove and the coffee was ready.  I grabbed a couple of cups, setting them on the table I poured each of us a cup.  We didn’t say anything, just sipped at our coffee.  Finally I gave a big sigh.
“Why didn’t they just wreck the place instead of hurting Eliana and Marta?” I asked no one in particular.  “That’s just downright meanness!”
I took another sip, waiting for Molly to say something.  She didn’t.  So I continued… .
“They need to come directly after me.  What is it with hurting my friends and folks I care about?”  I looked at Molly.  “Well?”
“Miles, you know better than I do about the evil on this earth.  You’ve been teaching me about how God works, how He cares for us, for you, so you should have a better grasp on an answer than I do.”
We couldn’t see out the windows so when the door opened I was a mite surprised.  I should have been more alert with the windows boarded up, anyone could’ve sneaked up on us.
Walking through the door we heard, “Buenos dias, Senora Molly, Senor Miles.”
“Marta!  What in the world are you doin’ here?
“Time for work.  What is it you say, ‘the early dog gets the best bone,’ or something like that?”
“Marta, you really shouldn’t be here,” said Molly.
“Why not?  You don’t want me?”
“Of course we want you, but your arm….  We want you to heal,” replied Molly.
“I heal better here, doing some work,” she said as she moved off into the kitchen.  Soon we heard the rattling of skillets and pans.  It was a few minutes later she came out.  “Senora Molly, you know it is almost 6:30.  That’s when we open and the coffee is not on in the kitchen and there is no sausage frying for gravy.  Did you count the eggs?”
We looked at each other, then smiled.  Here was a girl with a broken arm telling us that we need to get it together.  Molly got up and went to the kitchen.  I went over and opened the door so folks would know that this “diner” was open for business.  Despite all of the troubles that this place had seen people knew of the good food and continued to come.  Hopefully this latest incident wouldn’t affect the customers either.  A man’s stomach is a loud voice and it will cause him to overlook other difficulties in life.
When Marta came out with the first man’s order I motioned her over to me.  “Could Molly stay with you and Eliana for a couple of days?  I’m riding to Silverton.”
She looked me in the eyes.  “I know what you are doing.  You are going to try to find this man, Ferguson,” pausing for a moment.  “He is a very bad man.  But si, the Senora can stay with us.”
I got up and took a walk through town.  I wanted to talk with Marshal Gold and also tell the office that I would no longer be working for them as a Wells Fargo detective.  However, I needed a job so I would offer my services for the stage line.
The marshal knew of the ruckus and injuries, but he didn’t have any connection to Ferguson or any of the other men.  I didn’t figure he would.  Upon arriving at the office there was a new man working.  Introducing myself, he told me to wait a minute and went to the backroom. 
“Here is a note concerning you from a Mr. Gilford Covney.  It says that he is arriving…let’s see, it would be next week, from Chicago and wants especially to see you.”
“Covney, from Chicago?” I questioned.
“Sorry, Mr. Forrest.  That’s all I know.  I was told to tell you if you came by the office.”
“I should be back from Silverton by that time, Lord willin’. 
When I told Molly I was going to Silverton she was a little concerned.  “You’re looking for Ferguson.”
“I need to take some action.  I don’t want any more of my friends hurt because of a skunk like him roamin’ loose.  I’ll be headin’ out in the mornin’.”
Molly and Marta fed me a good breakfast of biscuits and gravy and then Molly packed some sausage sandwiches for my trip.  It was before graylight that Hawk and I hit the trail.  It was a beautiful day in the San Juans, but I knew it would still be cold at night.  As we climbed up into the high country there was more and more snow.  I began to hope for a dry place to camp for the night.
It was almost dark when I stopped for camp.  There was a little place between some rocks that was clear of snow and water, and it had a patch of grass where Hawk could munch.  I got the fire started and took care of Hawk, then threw down my bedroll and saddle.  Being between the rocks I would stay toasty tonight with the heat reflecting off them.
The fire was ablaze and I took a little walk with coffeepot in hand.  I filled it up with snow and headed back to camp.  Immediately I sensed something amiss.  Pulling my pistol I moved slowly toward the fire.  I was startled, for there was someone stooped by the fire frying up bacon.
“Come on in, Miles.  Put the coffeepot on the fire so I can get the coffee going.  I’ve been waiting for you.”
That voice; it was one that made me tremble yet feel at peace at the same time.
“Oh, and put that gun away.  You don’t need it, at least for now.”

There was a little cantina just a block from the station, and Molly and I sauntered down to it.  We had three hours before the train would come in that would take us on over to Durango.  We sat at a table toward the back and ordered up a couple bowls of chili and coffee. 
When I tasted it my eyes lit up in pure delight.  There is chili all over the Southwest and that includes Texas, but each area has its own peculiar flavors, mostly depending upon the type of peppers.  When I rode in Texas most of the chili was “rojo”, red chili, but since I come to live in Colorado I have had more of the green chili type.  And as an added plus, the coffee was hot and strong.
“I’ve never heard someone sigh like you do over a bowl of chili,” exclaimed Molly. 
Looking up holding my spoon I smiled.  “The only thing that could add to it would be a piece of your apple pie.” 
I ordered up another bowl as I didn’t plan on eating anything aboard the train.  This would have to do me until Alamosa.  The price was right as well:  3 bowls of chili and 2 cups of coffee–two-bits.
Molly and I were both vigilant on the way home.  We took turns sleeping so one could always be on the watch.  Finally, just before noon we arrived back in Durango.  We were no worse for the wear and just slightly tired, as we were able to get a little sleep.  Molly wanted to go on down to the eatery.  She had heard a new name and was thinking of calling it a diner.  That sounds much better than “Molly’s Shooting-Gallery.”
We had turned the corner and entered the street with the eatery and we quickly noticed that the eatery was boarded up.  Hurrying over to it we saw that the windows had been busted out and replaced with wood and the door was boarded as well as windows were broken there as well.
“Let’s go see Doc Jones,” I said.  His office was just across the street and down one building.
Doc was at his desk, reading intensely over some books.  When we burst in he was sort of startled.  “Miles!  Molly!  Am I glad to see you!” he exclaimed and rushed up to meet us.
“What’s goin’ on?” I asked.
“Some men came in early this morning, before breakfast and tore up the place,” he paused and looked at Molly.  “Sorry, but they wrecked it good.”
“Eliana and Marta?” she questioned.
He dropped his eyes.  “What happened Doc?  Did they hurt Lucas as well?”
“They’re hurt.  They’ll be in a bad way for a while.  Lucas was not there when it happened.”
I pulled a chair out for Molly to sit.  “Tell us Doc,” I said softly.
He rubbed his chin and then moved his fingers through his hair.  “I’ll start with Eliana.  They smashed her fingers.  I’m not sure she be able to used them again.”
“And Marta?”
“I don’t know if she was trying to run out or to her mother, but they grabbed her shoulder and dislocated it, and then pinned her to a table and broke a chair over her arm, thus breaking it.  We found her hovering over Eliana, they had kicked her in the side, breaking some ribs.”
I hesitated, “Anything else?”
“No, they didn’t molest either of them.”  He went over to the basin and poured a glass of water.  “Marta said that she has a message for you Miles.  From them.”
“Are they home now?”
Doc nodded.  “Come with me, Molly.”
We hurried on down to the Mexican and Indian part of town.  I knew where Marta and her family lived.  As we approached their home we were stopped by some men of the locale.  They tipped their sombreros at Molly and said, “Forrest, you are not welcome here.”
I started to push by them and one grabbed my shoulder.  I looked at him and he decided to let go.
A voice came from the building in front of us.  “Pedro, Estevan, no!  Senor Forrest is our dear friend.  Let him by.”
Ushering Molly in before me we entered Marta’s humble abode.  Eliana was sitting at the table, her hands bandaged, and pain etched on her face, but she smiled upon seeing Molly. 
Holding my hat in my hand, I spoke reverently to them.  “Marta, Senora, I am so sorry.”  All I could think about was the fact that my friends keep getting hurt because of me.  This scum will not face me, but take it out on innocent, weaker people.
“We are okay,” said Marta.  “We will heal.  But you, Senor Miles, beware.  These men said they had not forgotten you and that they will still collect.”
“Did any of them have a name?”
“Ferguson.”

Dave went down to the station with us, both as a friend and to sort of keep guard as well.  I told him I didn’t need a nursemaid to help me along.  And what did I get from him?  Just a smile.
“Molly, it’s always good to see you,” he said as he helped her up the step to the train.  “Try and keep better control of your clumsy husband.”
She leaned down and hugged him.  “You’re a good friend, Dave Cook.”
“Looks like someone else came down to escort you off,” he remarked to me.  Over to the side was the chief of the Denver police and two of his officers. 
I waved and smiled at them.  They didn’t wave back.
“Dave, what’s wrong?  You’d think I was the criminal, not the person that was shot at,” I said shaking my head.  Then I reached out my hand.  “Hope our trails cross again.”
He didn’t say anything; just took my hand.  When he released it, he waved up at Molly.
The coach was crowded so we couldn’t grab a seat where we could look in both directions.  Hopefully when we reached Pueblo and had to change trains the new one wouldn’t be so crowded.  We would grab a bite to eat there and then board the train that would take us to Durango.  Most of that trip would be during the night.
Sitting next to me, she sort of cuddled and rested her head on my shoulder.  Looking up she said, “One thing for sure.  Being the wife of Miles Forrest sure hasn’t been boring.”  Then she buried her head back on my shoulder.
Being my nature I looked over the passengers.  Mostly there were business-types going down Texas or other places.  I didn’t see one questionable person on board except for some squirrely-looking guys, the type I would take for shysters.  There were a couple of other women on board besides Molly.
It has come to my attention that the clickety-clack of the train on the rails and the rocking motion can rock a person to sleep.  I wasn’t trying to stay awake so I succumbed to slumber.  Finally at the second water stop, just outside Colorado Spring I decided to take a walk.  Molly was awake so I asked her, “Want to walk with me?”  She declined.  “I’m goin’ to try and find a cup of coffee; be back shortly.”
The trains were more and more luxurious and this one had a dining car.  I ordered two cups of coffee and my mercy, for the two of them it cost $.16.  When I tasted it, well, words cannot rightly express.  It was dark, sort of, but they must have just rinsed the beans in the water.  Sixteen cents for flavored water.  Guess that’s the way life was becoming.
I took it back to Molly.  She took a sip and grimaced.  “What is this?” 
“Finest coffee on the Denver, Santa Fe, and Rio Grande.  Tasty, ain’t it?”
At least it gave us something to drink, bad as it was.  “Miles, I don’t want to live in Denver.”
I looked at her.  “Me neither.  I reckon I can still ride the stage as shotgun.  They’re not owned by Wells Fargo, just do some shippin’ for them.  The marshalin’ job don’t make much money unless I would take up huntin’ outlaws full time, and that would take me from home.”
She was trying to drink the coffee.  “Do you think it was Murker who shot at you?”
“It wouldn’t be him, he would have one of his flunkies do it.  But no, he has no reason to kill me,” I paused and took a sip.  “Ferguson had been seen on the Front Range the past few months.  Could’ve been him.”
“Trenton?”
“Strange sort of events.  I don’t reckon he’s around,” pausing and looking at her.  “But you never know.”
“When we get to Pueblo, let’s not go find a place to eat.  Let’s just find a place to buy a sandwich and find our train.  I don’t have a good feeling.”
Patting her arm and then taking her hand, I just nodded.