Dave and I hunkered back in his office.  Slowly Dave moved to where I had left the door standing open.  “Don’t reckon he is still out there; too many people.  Think I’ll just have a look.  Whoever was shooting was aiming at me.”
He stood up and cautiously moved to the doorway.  He peeked out and saw that folk that had been hiding in doors of other establishments were now starting to move about.  I stood to join him and looked at the chip in the brick and then down to the threshold. 
“Clumsiness comes in handy at times,” remarked Dave.
“Either my clumsiness or the good Lord reached out and tripped me,” I replied.
“Oh, oh,” warned Cook.  “Get ready for the Denver police.”
There a half dozen men running our way.  A few yards from where we stood they stopped and pulled their guns.  “Drop your weapons!” came the order from one.  They all were pointing their guns at us.
“Now, listen,” Dave started.
“I don’t care who you are Cook, or who you once were, get rid of your gun!”  Then he pointed at me.  “You too!  Drop that shotgun and your gunbelt!”
“What d’yuh think, Dave?”  I had the shotgun leveled and could have fired off a shot and probably taken two or three of them.  Yep, Dave and I could have easily taken the six of them.  I sure wasn’t hankering to kill any police officers though.
“Best we humor them,” he sighed.
“Times are sure a-changin’.  It makes a person wonder whose side they’re on,” I said as I stooped to lay down the Greener.
With our gunbelts and shotgun on the ground we stood there.  Nothing was happening so Dave remarked, “Do you want us to step aside, or maybe one of you should come and collect our guns?”
“Joe, go get their guns.” 
Dave and I just looked at each other and shook our heads.  It would have been so easy to grab this jasper and use him for a shield.  It made me wonder what kind of training they had, or more, where was their common sense?
“Come down here so we can cuff you,” came the one giving orders.
“That’s far enough, Dewey!” exclaimed Cook.  “We are both United States Deputy Marshals and we will not be handcuffed.  You want to ask questions, ask away!”
“Dewey?” I asked.  “Think it might be a good idea for your men to be searchin’ for the perpetrator instead of holding those who was attacked?”
That sort of took him back and shamed him some.  “We’re on it.  Ben, Fern, see if you can find some kind of evidence as to where this shot came from.”
They started to take off when Dave hollered, “Might be a good idea to check the brick and get a line of direction.”  They stopped and one of them came to the building, looked at the chipped brick and then outward.  He pointed, “Let’s check that building,” and they headed for it.
By that time another officer came up.  He looked to be quite the dandy and I figured he might be the chief of police.  “Are you Forrest?” he asked abruptly.
I nodded.
“This is the second run-in with the police you’ve had today.  I should haul you in.”
Dave and I just stood there, neither of us ready to say anything.  That sort of exasperated the chief further.  “Forrest, I want you out of Denver!”
“Leavin’ on the train tomorrow,” then I nodded to the officer who had picked up our guns.  “I want my guns back now.”
“You can get them on the way out tomorrow,” he snapped.
“I’ll take them now, and then I’ll report that you’re interfering with a federal marshal who is actively involved in an investigation.”
“Get out!” he said and turned.
Cook spoke up, “Chief, our guns?”
He spit out the words, “Give them their guns!”

I joined up with Molly soon enough and we went walking in downtown Denver. I was amazed at the commotion on Market Street. Teamsters were lined up loading and unloading merchandise. Things were bustling. As we turned back to the hotel there came a voice.
“Don’t take another step!” came the order. “Now lay down that shotgun.”
I whispered asking Molly, “How far away is he?”
“I won’t repeat it again. And as for you, you know your kind is not allowed up here.”
That did it! I pushed Molly and swung to my right extending the shotgun. It cracked him on the elbow and he yelped, dropping his gun.
I rushed to him and placed the Greener up under his chin. “Before you say another word, apologize to my wife!”
I saw his eyes flicker in surprise, “Sorry ma’am.”
“Now do you want to explain yourself?” I asked.
I pulled the shotgun away, and he began to rub his arm. “Officer Brewster, Denver police force. There is an ordinance about carrying guns in town.”
“You’ll live longer if you confront people instead of sneaking up behind them. Folk don’t cotton to that, no matter who you are. By the way, I’m Deputy U.S. Marshal Miles Forrest and I’ll carry my guns with me,” I paused and then asked. “Happen to know a big guy by the name of Murker?”
“Can’t say that I do,” came a reply rather quickly.
Just to test his truthfulness, I tippy-tapped his elbow with the Greener. That brought a quick groan form him. “He didn’t say anything about your wife.”
“Now, why don’t you tell me just exactly what he said.”
“He said to arrest you and get you out of the way for a while.”
“Better go back and report that it didn’t work.”
We left him rubbing his arm, and hopefully having learned a good lesson. He apologized again before our taking our leave of his presence. He was embarrassed, but not sure if it was from his mistake with Molly or having the Greener laid up against his arm or being caught as one of Murker’s flunkies.
There was a restaurant a block away from the hotel. It was on a side street so I figured it might be some cheaper than the one next to the hotel.  “Let’s grab a cup of coffee.”
Sitting down and after ordering, I asked, “What do you think of Denver?”
She took a sip. “Sure is getting big,” and taking another sip. “I don’t care much for some of the folk here though.”
I asked for another cup and the waitress replied, “Are you thinking of ordering anything to eat? If not, there’s a limit to the coffee.”
“Tell you what, here’s two-bits and keep the change.” I looked at Molly. “Let’s go.”
We walked on back to the hotel. “I’m ready to go home. What’s say that we leave tomorrow. I no longer work for Wells Fargo, so there’s no need to stay around here. I do want to see Dave one more time. I’ll go get the tickets and then see him.”
After getting tickets I went to see Cook. I wanted to run the doings by him and see what he thought. He might know something that I didn’t. He was in his office and we talked some about the events of the day. Murker was a new man in town and Dave didn’t know anything about him, but said he would do some checking.
“Thought any more about my offer?”
“Molly and I are headin’ back to Durango. I don’t work for Wells Fargo no more, and there’s just too many people here for my likin’.”
He smiled and reached out to shake my hand. We walked out the office and stood at the front door. “You’re a good man, Miles. I’ll let you know anything I find out.”
Opening the door I started out and my heel caught the threshold and I stumbled forward just as a bullet smashed into the brick wall showering both Dave and I.

This here’s ’bout the spot, Mr. Bartholomew,” I remarked.
“The spot?  What are you talking about?
“Somewhere along this section was where Wray was murdered.  I didn’t see any marks along the siding where he could have come up from the ravine.  Whoever killed him must have been aboard the train,”  I paused, letting this sink in.  “Trenton was not on the passenger list.  So I think yur jumpin’ to conclusions about him.”
I believed it was Trenton, and I would hold him for questioning if I ever saw him, but I wasn’t going to give this jasper the benefit of that thought.  “Have your men in Denver checked the train crew?  I’m sure a former judge had his enemies.”
He just sort of frowned at this.  After that the conversation stopped.  I nudged Molly.  “Want to go to the diner to get some coffee?”
“Oh, Miles, sit down and relax.  You’ve been there already.  At lease wait a couple of hours until lunchtime.”
Sighing, I nodded.  I kept noticing Bartholomew’s eyes moving toward me, and then down, kind of like he was anxious about something.
“Mister Bartholomew, somethin’ botherin’ you?” I asked.
 He sort of stuttered, “The shotgun, do you have to carry it all the time?”
 I gave him a little smile.  “This ol’ Greener?  Why, Mr. Bartholomew, she is almost as sweet to me as my precious Molly.  In fact, I probably have my hands on it more than I do on her.”
 With that I felt a sharp elbow in the side.  I darnt not look her way.
 “Well, it makes me nervous,” he retorted.
 Smiling again, “That’s the whole purpose.  It makes lots of folks nervous.  It can do quite the damage to a person’s body.”  But I moved it to the seat that was facing us and we got quite and into the rhythm of the clickety-clack on the rails.
 The trip wasn’t all that bad, I was just anxious for some reason, ready to get off. Bartholomew just wasn’t my style of company. Arriving at the station in Denver I helped Molly off and motioned for a carriage.  As I was helping Molly up the step, Bartholomew came up behind me and grabbed my shoulder.  I whipped around and just stopped short and crowning him with the Greener.
 “See, this is one reason I carry this shotgun.  I could have easily cracked your head with it.  For a man who’s supposed to be smart, you really don’t have much sense.”
He just grumbled some and then said.  “The Wells Fargo office is just down the street; we don’t need a carriage.”
“First things first,” I replied.  “I need to see a friend first.”
“But Myers wanted to see you first thing!”  He was getting livid.
“You tell Myers and anyone else that I’ll be down in short order.”
“But I was told…”
“You told me, and I’ll see you in a bit.  Now you better get along and report.”
I gave the driver the address.  I figured if Cook was in town he would be at his office.  It had been only a few months since I had been in Denver, but my mercy, there were a lot of people.  The streets were bustling with folk moving up and down them.  Things sure had changed since I first came here from Texas. 
Riding in the carriage a person could spot all kinds of folks.  There were the fancy-dancy folk; it seemed that they walked with a peculiar style, kind of a stiff legged with a wiggle in the behind.  Then there were the down-and-out, those with the weasel-eyes, looking to snitch something and moving-in-and-out of the crowds.  One thing that was rare was a common person.  Yep, seemed like Denver was becoming like Chicago or one of those eastern cities.  People putting on airs and people ready to make a buck from them.
 Cook’s office was a little place down from the Mint that was being built.  I must have been shaking my head for Molly asked, “What’s wrong, Miles?”
 “Just thinkin’ ’bout all the types of people here now.”  I nodded, “And here is another sort, federal people from Washington.”
 She gave a half laugh.  “You’re silly.  You’re a Deputy United States Marshal, isn’t that a federal person?”
 The carriage came to a halt.  “I’m not that kind of federal person.  That gives me half a mind to let you get out by yourself.”
 “You do that,” she remarked, “And that’s what you’ll have–half a mind.”
 I helped her out, being the gentleman that I am.  Then the driver said “four-bits”, and I almost choked. 

I was sitting there just before the morning rush.  For the past few months I have been getting up with Molly and walking her to the eatery.  She opened the doors around 6:30 so there was plenty to get done early.  I usually started the fire in the stove and it was still cool enough in the mornings to put one in the stove where the folks ate, plus get the coffee going.  Molly would busy herself in the kitchen and Marta and her mother would show up around 6:00. 
Spring was here and many of the men were up at the mines looking for work.  Some went back to jobs they left in the fall, and others were hopeful of finding jobs.  With the winter over, there were even those who went out in search of that all illusive gold on their own.
“Biscuits will be ready in a few minutes,” said Molly.  “Gravy is being stirred as I speak.”
We sat there enjoying the moments and sipped our coffee.
“Think Trenton will be caught in California?” she asked.
I looked around; I really don’t know what for as we were the only ones in the eatery.  “I don’t think he even went to California.”
She looked at me.  I continued, “He is too smart to leave a clue like that.  I figured he went back to Denver to look for Ferguson or maybe down to Galveston to catch a ship out of there.”
“Let me go check…” and as she started to get up Marta was bringing us both a plate full of biscuits covered with sausage gravy. 
“And just for you Mr. Miles,” she rushed back to the kitchen.  Smiling she held in her hand a plate with a fried egg and the lifted the egg to the top of my gravy. 
I looked at Molly.  “That girl is spoiling you!” said Molly.  “I think I need to put a stop to it.”  She acted as if she was going to get up and I grabbed her arm. 
At that moment the door opened.  Customers, and wouldn’t you know it.  The first customer was Bartholomew.  He walked to the table and I noticed that he still had a little black under one eye. 
“Mister Bartholomew,” said Molly.  “Sit down and I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.  Would you like anything to eat?”
I saw him eyeing my breakfast.  He looked at Molly.  “Any chance I could get some sausage and eggs?”
Marta was standing near, “I’ll get them started, Miss Molly.”
Bartholomew looked over at me.  “I received a telegram from the Denver office.  It was reported that a man with Trenton’s description was in the city a couple of weeks back,” he hesitated.  “They want you to come to Denver.  Do you have a problem with that?”
I looked at Molly.  “No, don’t reckon I do.”
“Good, I’ve already purchased your ticket and we’ll leave tomorrow on the first train out.”
“Want to go with me, Molly?  We can get a feel of the place and it might help us make our decision.”
She put her hand on my arm and squeezed.  “Marta should be able to handle things here, and Eliana is a good cook.”  She was getting a little excited.  “And Lucas is well enough to chop the wood again.”
“Guess that answers my question.”  I looked at Bartholomew.  “Go buy another ticket when you’re through here.”
He started to protest.  “Wells Fargo won’t pay…”
I cut him off.  “If they don’t we’ll take our horses,” and I took a sip of coffee.  “We’d make it there in a couple of weeks.”
“They want you there now!” he exclaimed.
“Then buy another ticket,” I replied getting up.  “I need to see Marshal Gold and check on the horses.  I think Moise at the livery has a boy that will look after them.”
I reached for my cup to finish it and then walked out through the kitchen.