I’ll give that bunch this much; they stayed and finished their dinner, now almost ignoring me completely.  They even ordered one of Molly’s pies, so I knew they were not stupid.  Fools maybe, for they had chosen the wrong path in life, but stupid, no.
There were no any more customers and Molly asked, “Are they here to start trouble?”
“Well, it’s no coincidence that they’re here, but I don’t think they’ll cause any trouble.  At least not now, not here.”
I reached for the coffee to help wash down the pie.  “Marta, come here a minute.”  She hustled herself over.
“Bring your mother by, I’d like to talk with her about working here as well.”  I got up and walked to the kitchen and looked by the stove.  Then I went out the backdoor and glanced at the woodpile.  Brrr, I didn’t notice it, but the evening chill was getting colder.  October was surely beginning to set in, or maybe my bones were just getting a little older.
“Molly pour me another cup please.”  I looked at Marta.  “Do you have a brother or know a boy who’d like to make a few dollars?”
“Si, Senor, mi hermano, my brother.”
“Bring him along.”
Molly and I sat there watching Marta clean up the tables.  Winter would be upon us before we knew it, and I needed to get the shack made more into a house before then.  There were not many men around who needed work, most were working their own claims, looking for gold, or working for one of the larger mines.
The next day I went on down to the office at Wells Fargo.  I went back and talked with Foster about the ore being shipped to Denver.  “There’ll be plenty of gold on that train.  I’d put an extra guard or two this time.  It might be the last major load sent out until spring.  If the snow hits early we might get one this size.”
He nodded.  “Want to go along?”
“Let me give it some thought,”  I paused.  “You know the gang that we confronted from Telluride is in town.”  He looked startled.
“Make sure those two guards from Telluride don’t go with the ore.  Or, maybe… .”
“Miles, you have something on your mind?  Get it out.”
“What if we hire them as the extra guards?  I’ll ride the train as well.  We’ll have the car all loaded, but it will be fake.  The next train will carry the real stuff.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“Keep Wilson here for the shipment.  Say he got sick or something.  Then put the two new guards on the train with Dawson.  Don’t let anyone know what is happening except Wilson and Dawson; they can be trusted.  I figure they’ll attack before Pagosa.  Either way, I’ll get off and wait for the other train and ride on in to Pueblo with it.  You can have a couple of guards waitin’ there to escort it in to Denver.”
As I walked out of the office I noticed a man slouched against the railing across the street.  He was one of the men who was at the Eatery.  I walked down to the station, and then decided to saunter over to the marshal’s office.  I wanted to look at some posters.  The leader was not registering in my mind and I wanted to see if there were any new posters.  If there was the marshal could go and arrest him now.
He always had the coffee on, and as soon as I entered he offered me a cup.  There was a real host.  We made some small talk and I told him about the crew in town and asked for the posters.  After twenty minutes or so I came up with nothing.  I started to leave.  “Say, you know of anyone who knows how to use a saw and hammer?”
Again the negative answer.  “Well, contact me if you do.  I need to get the house in shape.”
We had kinda been the cause for a quiet laugh or smirk from several in town.  Molly was doing fine with the restaurant, not getting rich but doing all right, and I made decent money with Wells Fargo, and got a reward once in a while for bringing in some outlaw.  Yet, we lived in a ramshackle place.  I surely needed to do something about that.
I made my way back to the eatery and as I walked in the door… .

I had been home just shy of a week and hadn’t seen anything of Hannah or Greta.  Molly said Hannah came around a couple of times to deliver eggs.  While I was gone Molly hired a young Mexican-Indian girl named Marta.  She said her mother might be interested in working as well.  That might add a little spice to the menu.  At least she had some help.
“Senor, more coffee?” asked Marta.
Now I’m not real good on the Spanish lingo, but with that “Senor” thrown in I figured she was talking to me.  Plus the fact there was no one else in the eatery.
“It is hot,” she said.  Then she bent close and whispered.  “I think your wife is fixin’ a surprise.”
I was sipping on the coffee when Molly came from the kitchen with a couple of pieces of pie.
“Ahhh, scutterbutch!”  I exclaimed.
“Que?”
“Don’t pay him any mind, Marta.  It’s butterscotch.  And no!  Both pieces are not for you and if you’ll pour me a cup I sit and enjoy a piece with you,” she paused.  “Providing you mind your manners.”
Marta left as Molly sat down and began wiping off tables.  “How’s she doin’?” I asked.
“She’s surely energetic, and so far no complaints from the customers.  I found out that she’s from over near Four Corners; her father was Navajo.”
“Was?”
“She hasn’t said much, but from she mentioned he died in some sort of accident.”
About half my pie was gone when a group of six men walked in.  I fidgeted a little and took the thong off the hammer of my pistol.  “Excuse me,” I said to Molly.  “I need to move this.”  I put the shotgun on my right side on the table.
“Miles, what is it?” she asked.
“Hope nothin’, but that’s the crew that had their sights on the ore wagon.  Coincidence they’re in town just now, don’t you think?”
“Well, don’t start anything,” she replied.
“Why Molly!” I exclaimed in mocked shock.  “I never start anything; besides you told me to mind my manners.”  Then I became a little more serious.  “But I’ve been known to put an end to things.”
I could see the men muttering amongst themselves, and glancing my way from time-to-time.  Using my left hand I cut another piece of pie.
The guy who spoke to me on the road stood up and came my way.  “Well, Forrest, we meet again,” and he stuck out his hand to shake mine.
I took a sip of coffee and ignored the gesture.  “Not very friendly,” he remarked.
“I am to my friends.”
“You act like that and there may be a time of collectin’.”
“Want to try now?” I asked, and shook hands with my Greener with my thumb on one of the hammers.
“I take it that’s your friend?”
Nodding I replied.  “And a good one too.”
Marta was over at their table bringing their food.  I nodded again.  “Food’s gettin’ cold.”
“Forrest, there’ll be a time comin’.”
I pretended to ignore him and ate another piece of pie–with my left hand

I wasn’t real worried about the trip from Telluride to Durango.  It would take a few days, but with three wagons of ore and each wagon having two guards plus a teamster it was well taken care of.  Wilson, Dawson, and I rode up and down and around the wagons.  If we were attacked it would have to be by a large group as they just couldn’t come and haul the ore away, and that was another advantage, it wasn’t milled or smelted yet.  Yet, I didn’t relax, there was always that chance.
The guards on the wagon worked for the mines, therefore, I didn’t know them.  I figured the mine owners knew their men well enough to supply qualified men for the job.
We were about a day and a half out of Durango when one of the wagons broke down; a broken wheel.  There wasn’t a spare, so there would have to be help coming from Durango.  Something about the location and the timing kinda bothered me.  Being in charge I decided to send Wilson and Dawson along with the two other wagons and would stay with the one until it could be repaired or another wagon sent to replace it.  I also changed the guards.  I wouldn’t let the two on the one broke down stay with it.
They argued some about that.  They said they worked for the Deep Hole Mine and that this was their ore.  It made me sorta laugh and guess it showed for it irritated them further.
“Ore has been sorted back in Telluride and marked.  It is all mixed together from five or so mines.”
“We don’t think we should leave it,” said a gruffy red-haired man.
“That’s right, you don’t think!”  I said.  “You follow my orders!”
So the guards switched up, but I kept the teamster.  I figured he might be involved if there was foul play and I wanted to keep an eye on him.  We had enough food for a week so we were not hard up that way.  Water was a little problem.  There was a stream to the south of us about a mile and another back up the road about the same distance.  There was a small keg about half full so we should be alright for a day, but then would need some water.
Early the next morning we were having our coffee and I spoke to the men.  “If they’re comin’ it’ll be this mornin’.  They wouldn’t wait longer as they would be easier to follow.  So stay close to the wagon and keep your guns handy.”
Sure enough, about an hour later here came a small group of men; I counted five, but there may be a couple more around.  They rode in slowly.
As I walked out to meet them, I noticed the teamster moving around to get behind me.  “Unt uh, you stay right up here with me and to my left.”
“What?” he cried.  “You’ve no reason to talk like that!”
“Then there should be no problem, now get up here.”
The leader stopped in front of me.  “Looks like you’ve got some troubles,” he said.
“Not really, the coffee was good this mornin’, and help should be here by this time tomorrow.”
“Well, the boys and I would surely like to help you out.”
“Figured,” and then I lifted the Greener.  When I did that I heard the other two guards cock their rifles.  “This will handle our troubles I reckon.”
He looked sorta troubled, but most people get that expression with a shotgun pointed at them from a few yards away.  “Mister,” I said.  “Ifn that fellow up on the hillside raises his rifle, I’m cuttin’ loose with this here shotgun.  I guarantee it will empty your saddle.”
“Your name Forrest?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Heard there was a bounty on you.  Might be I collect.”
“Might be you’ll try to collect.  Now, I would advise you boys either go back from where you came or continue on up to Telluride.  Right now the air is startin’ to get an unhealthy feelin’.”
“Perhaps we’ll meet again,” he said.
“I’ll look forward to it; as long as it’s face-to-face.”
I could see the anger rise in his face, but he motioned for his gang to follow him on up the trail.  “Hey!” I hollered.  “Don’t forget the man on the hillside.  Sure don’t want him to do something he might regret.”

For this trip I had Windy Dawson and Sam Wilson with me.  There were good, solid men, or so it seemed the few times I worked with them.  When we headed back down there would be another three guards added.  I wasn’t given information on how much gold we would be bringing out.  They were good men to ride with,; didn’t talk much and that gave me plenty time to ponder.
I was a mite concerned about Greta and Hannah.  Well, Hannah seemed to be all right, but Greta was on the verge of collapse.  I couldn’t blame them none for wanting to be away from me.  Indirectly or directly I guess I could be the cause of them becoming widows.  Haven’t figured that out totally for I’m of a mind that folks make their own choices.  Then there was the needing of help for Molly.  Well, something will work out.
We entered the narrow valley and were stopped.  This was my fourth trip to this area and now there was a gate built across the road.  The sign said “TOLL–stop and pay.”  Guess that was as good a way to make money as digging in the mountains.
We all dismounted and went to the gate.  A man came out of a little house with a shotgun in hand.  “You ridin’ through, or stayin’ awhile?”  He asked.
“Looks like you have an interesting business here.  Name’s Miles Forrest and we’re with Wells Fargo.”
“Heard there was a shipment of ore heading out soon.  Charge on that is $60 a ton,” he said.  He saw my frown.  “Might be goin’ up to $80.  Winter is comin’ on and I need the money to keep the road open.”
“Anyone been told of this ‘toll road’?”  I asked.
“Yuh asking, if it’s legal?  Well, it is.  I ran one for a while over on Ponca Pass,” he paused.  “It was legal, sanctioned by the State, and quite profitable.  The State knows of this road.”  He stopped to gauge my expression.  “Tryin’ to talk some gents to build a railroad in here.  I think it’ll happen if the mines stay operable.”
“Your name Mears?”
“That’s right, Otto Mears.”
“Heard of yuh.  I worked the Gunnison country a few years back.  How much?”
“Six-bits for the three of yuh.”
I paid him, and told Wilson to remind me to get reimbursed back in Durango.
When I first came through here the name of the place was Columbia, but had to be changed. Some of the folk that’s been here a while still call it Columbia.  I’m not near as fond of Telluride as Silverton.  At least Silverton has pretensions of some civilization and is somewhat spread out.  Telluride is a narrow valley that leads up into canyons.  Silverton, as evil as it is, shows a more saintly view than Telluride.  Perhaps if the strike continues there will come a more cultured state.  People are lusting for gold and things of a baser type.
My ol’ gizzard takes a conniption every time I come this direction.  I was in Abilene and Dodge City during the heydays of the cattle industry.  I worked in Central City, around Gold Hill, and Tincup, but I believe this place beats them all.
There’s lots of commotion here, with several folk moving in and searching for the bright metal.  Entering the narrow valley I pondered just how many people lost their soul seeking that illusive dream; that dream of striking it rich?  The allure of gold is a strange thing.  I heard stories of people leaving good homes to search for it, and then be lost to their families forever; maybe they went crazy out here in these mountains.  Fact is, few find it.
In between a couple of saloons there was a little rock building with the sign:  “Wells Fargo & Co.”  The building was secure.  If the saloons caught fire it would survive.  Inside was a company safe, but it couldn’t hold the ore that was coming through.  Plus Wells Fargo was sort of in the banking business as well.  Miners would come and deposit their ore in return for cash.  If this strike continued something would have to be done.
There was a guard outside and another inside.  When I went in the clerk said that it would be two days before ready to ship.  There would be three wagons of gold.  In fact, he had to hire a couple more guards.  There needed to be two in each wagon.  Wilson, Dawson, and I would ride alongside.
I didn’t relish staying here that long, but that’s the way it goes sometimes.  “Any place ’round here fittin’ to eat?”  I asked.
“Boarding house up the street run by a miner’s wife,” he scowled a little.  “Food’s good, but I wouldn’t sleep there.  Just a big tent with pallets on the ground.”
Walking out I said to the boys, “I think I’ll see if I can sleep in the livery.”