And people should eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of their labor, for these are gifts from God.” –Ecclesiastes 3:13, NLT

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

     Molly was putting the CLOSED sign on the front door.  Mateo had escorted Lola home after he came back from taking Thornton to jail; she had settled down some by that time.  I was up by the stove filling my cup with coffee.  It had been a traumatic day.  We still hadn’t heard from Doc on how his patient was faring.  

     Motioning with the pot, I asked, “Want some coffee?”  Molly was walking back toward the table where I was sitting.

     “I’d prefer some tea right now,” she muttered wearily.  

     “I’ll get a pan, it won’t take long to get some water heated,” I informed her.  

     “Don’t bother,” she began, but I cut her off.

     “No bother, sit yourself down.  I’ll be right back.”  I went on back to the kitchen where I found a small tea kettle.  On the shelf above there was a jar of tea and a strainer.  I filled the strainer, put water in the kettle and headed back to the table.  On the way I spotted a jar of honey so I grabbed it.  She gave me a half-smile as I put the kettle on the stove next to the coffeepot.

     Pulling the chair out I sat down, “Tell me what happened in the kitchen,” I implored her while waiting for the water to get hot.

     “Emelda was over at the stove finishing up some enchiladas, Lola was standing near waiting to plate them when that man came in the back door.  Oh, Miles, if you could have seen the look on his hideous face.  He looked at me, smiled, then over at Lola.  The scream you heard was when he started to approach her.  I reached in my pocket for my pistol, pulled it out and told him to stop.  He just turned, saw the gun in my hand then lifted his arm toward me pointing his gun.  When he cocked the hammer and sneered, I pulled the trigger.  I don’t know exactly where the bullet hit but it shocked him.  His eyes widened and rolled back showing only the whites.”

     She shuddered, but I encouraged her to continue.  I knew where the bullet hit, right above his breastbone.  He was a dead man as soon as that bullet hit.  

     “That’s when his gun went off, firing up in the air.  He started staggering and went out of the kitchen.  I followed to make sure he wouldn’t shoot anyone out there.  That’s when he fell, and the commotion started.”

     Commotion was a light word for what took place.  “Miles, that was the man who grabbed me walking by the park.”

     I got up to check the teapot.  The water was hot and as I reached for a cup on the shelf behind the stove, Doc Jones came in.  I was almost positive he could read, so he must have ignored the sign.  “Pour me a cup while you’re standing there.”

     “Coffee or tea?” I questioned holding up the tea kettle.

     “Coffee!”

     First I put Molly’s cup in front of her, then turned to get a cup for Doc.  “Am I supposed to stir this with my finger?” she asked, mockingly moving her finger around the edge of the cup.  

     I went to where the utensils were kept, picked up a spoon to give to her.  Then poured a cup of coffee for Doc who looked battered.  As I handed him the cup, he stared at the dark liquid, then spoke.  “I’m supposed to use these hands to heal people, not kill them.”

     He was being battered for sure; battered by the demons that were attacking his mind.  “Doc, you sure enough saved my bacon…”

     Glancing at me, he gave a snort.  I didn’t know if that meant “thanks” or “is your sorry hide worth it.”

     Molly reached over the table to grasp his hand.  “Doc, I’m thankful you did what you had to.  By the way, how is the man who was shot?”

     He took a sip before answering, making a frown, but only looking at me, not saying anything.  “He’s fine, but he was supposed to go to work first of next month.  There’s no way he can do a hard day’s work with that wound.”

     “Where’s he supposed to work?” I questioned.

     “North Star Mine, but Miles, he can’t do it, not at least for a couple of months.”

     I took a long dreg of my coffee, finishing the cup, then answered, “I know Brewlinski.  I’ll go up and talk with him.”

     He gave a half smile, then put his head in his hands.  Molly reached over, took his hands and began to pray…

So I concluded that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to enjoy themselves as long as they can.”  –Ecclesiastes 3:12, NLT

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

     With that shot I dropped the man I was dragging, when he head thudded on the floor, a second shot was fired from the kitchen, this one a more powerful caliber.  I glanced toward the kitchen and my eyes caught the fur-man who had pushed his chair back.  His gun was out and he fired at me.

     What I feared the most happened.  His bullet hit the man at the table that was between us, who grunted and fell to the floor.  Thankfully in one way, that gave me time to draw and return fire with no one in the way of my target.  I shot twice, as the man tried to cock and fire his gun again.  He looked surprised when first, his gun didn’t fire, and second when my bullet plowed into his chest.  Dropping his gun, his hand flew to his chest, then he stared at me before his eyes glazed over and he fell down across the table and onto the floor.

     Before I could rush to the kitchen, a man came out with a sneer on his face.  He sort of twirled in a half circle, dropped his gun, then he crumpled to the floor.  “Molly!” I hollered.  “Lola!”  

     I took two steps when I heard the shotgun boom.  I had forgotten Teeter, not figuring that he had enough gumption to try anything, but then my back was to him.  Turning I saw that he was on his back, pistol in hand.  My eyes then went to Doc who was holding the Greener.  Only for an instant though; I had to check on Molly.

     She met me at the kitchen entrance with the pistol she kept in her work dress in hand.  With a sob she fell against me, and I walked her over to the table where Doc had been.  The Greener was on the table, and I saw Doc up where Teeter lay on the floor.

     “You all right?” I asked hurriedly.  She nodded.  “Lola?”  She nodded again, pointing towards the kitchen.  

     I rushed in that direction and upon entering the kitchen, I saw Lola sitting on the floor near the woodpile.  “Lola, Lola, are you hurt?”

     When she didn’t say anything I reached down for her.  She blinked her eyes several times, maybe I was out of focus, but she grabbed hold of my arm and I helped her to stand.  “Let’s go sit with Molly.”

     Reentering the dining area, I saw Doc working on the downed man, the one fur-man shot.  “Oh, Lord,” I prayed aloud.

     I took Lola over to Molly, then went toward the man.  Doc was giving his friend and another man instructions and they helped the still conscious man out the door and towards Doc’s office.  I was thankful that he was conscious but there was a pool of blood on the floor where he had been lying.

     “Miles,” came Doc’s voice.  “Check on the man by the kitchen, see if he’s dead.  I’ll look fur-man over, and then head on over to the office to work on Dickinson’s wound.”

     “He goin’ to make it, Doc?”

     Doc gave me a little shrug, then bent down to check on the condition of fur-man while I went to see about the other.  “Dead,” I muttered loudly, and upon saying that Doc went up and out the diner.

     The others who were in the diner were slowly getting up off the floor where they had taken refuge during the gunplay.  It was at that time that the door burst open, immediately my hand pulled my gun.  The man hollered, “Miles!  Molly!  What’s happened?”  He stopped as he looked at my pistol pointing at him.  “Miles, put that away.”

     It was Solly Vendor from across the street.  I was still on edge, but fortunately I recognized him.  “Solly, we’re all right.  Go get Parker.”  He turned and rushed back out the doorway.  I yelled on his way out, “Get Mateo over here.”

     I stood then started walking to the table where Molly and Lola were sitting.  “More business for Paul Parker, the undertaker,” I thought to myself.

     Molly was holding Lola around her shoulders.  “Neither of you were shot?” I questioned.  “I was sure I heard him fire once.”

     When I said that, Lola began to cry and she buried her face in Molly’s chest…

God has made everything beautiful for its own time.  He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.”  –Ecclesiastes 3:11, NLT

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

     Yep, life sure has its quirks, either that or ol’ slewfoot has a weird sense of humor.  I’m a-thinkin’ that it’s the latter.  However, in reality, I know that God has everything under control, so I wasn’t frettin’ any.  I had hoped for the diner to clear out some before I accosted the man I thought might be Hal Thornton when another man, wearing a fur-lined cap and fur coat walked in with a sneer on his face.  He moved over to the other side from Teeter and Thornton.

     My mind flashed back through the years when I had been in this same situation.  I couldn’t recall the names of the men at that time, but three men faced me in the same situation.  My problem was the two tables between where folks were sitting.  One table was conscious that something was stirring, but the other was in their own little world, slopping down biscuits and gravy and a portion of pork chops.

     I left the Greener on the table, whispering to Doc as I went by, “Use it if you have to.”  Then continued on toward where Teeter was sitting.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw that the man to my right in the fur had taken off his coat and was now pulling out a chair to sit.  Good, that would slow him down some if it came to gunplay.  

     Teeter, bah, I didn’t give him no mind, he was a tinhorn.  Yet, I was aware that tinhorns sometimes get what some would call luck.  “Lord,” I prayed silently as I approached the table.  I gave Teeter a nod, then turned my attention to the other man.  He was by far the most dangerous…except the unknown in the fur.  

     My thumbs were in my gunbelt, showing no threat and that I was in no ways afraid of him.  “Your name Hal Thornton?” I asked bluntly.

     He looked up with a sideward glance as I was standing directly to his left.  “Who wants to know?”

     “First off, I do,” I notified him, “then I received a message from Marshal Blasco and he’s mighty interested as well.”

     A little smile appeared on his unshaven face.  “Checkin’ up on the strangers in town, are you, Marshal?” he replied, then sighed before answering.  “But, no, I’m not the man you thought I was.”  The smile disappeared.

     “Do you have a name?”

     “Oh, I could be Puddin’ Tain or maybe John Brown,” he said, a smirk appearing on his face.  He was beginning to irritate me.  He saw my irritation, causing his smirk to increase, “but I ain’t neither of them.  Might be the Durango Kid,” he said with a chuckle.

     That was it.  My hand flashed out slapping him on the side of the face.  “Don’t push it, Mister.  Just give me a name!”

     It was his turn to be irritated, but he was at a disadvantage if he wanted to draw his gun since he would have to fire across from himself.

     “Marshal, you had no cause to do that!” bellowed Teeter.

     Without looking at Teeter I pointed with my left hand warning him, “You best stay out of this.”

     The stranger reached up to feel where my hand met his face.  “Marshal, the name is none of your concern.  Now leave me alone.”

     I took one step behind him, “Get up!  You’re under arrest!”

     “What!” he blurted, “you can’t…”

     He didn’t get the words out before I pulled my pistol and thumped him just above the ear.  “I can, and I did.”  I glanced at the man with the fur hat, pointing my gun at him as I did.  He relaxed, then I spoke to Teeter.  “Under arrest for suspicion.”

     I went back to my table, not looking at either fur-man or Teeter to put on my coat.  I grabbed the Greener, then went back to the stranger on the floor.  “Teeter, all he had to do was tell me his name.  Do you know it?”

     Teeter’s right hand went up to the side of his head in reaction.  “Short, Josiah Short.  You’re in trouble now, Forrest.  His brother is Luke Short.”

     I had heard that Short was living in Buena Vista for a time, and talked to him once there.  Last I heard he was back in Dodge City.  I met the man several years ago driving cattle up the trail, and I knew of his reputation, but the fabricated ones and the real person.

     Reaching down, I started to grab this Josiah Short by the collar and drag him off to jail, when there came a scream from the kitchen, a shot…

What do people really get for all their hard work?  I have thought about this in connection with the various kinds of work God has given people to do.”  –Ecclesiastes 3:9-10, NLT

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

     Once in a while I get to aching.  The cold weather just sweeps through my weary bones; bones that have taken a beating from riding horses, herding cattle, and mostly going after human strays.  Then there are some spots that just ache.  There’s a couple of scars on my upper shoulder where bullets tended to gather.  I don’t know why outlaws seem to find that spot, but it sure is better that a few inches lower.  I was sitting at the diner, rubbing a place on my side where some miscreant shot me while I was in the process of apprehending him, when Doc Jones came in the diner.

     “What’s the problem, Miles?” he inquired, a smirky look on his face.  He knew full well, what the problem was, he’d fixed enough of the holes placed in my body whilst doing my sworn duty.

     “Don’t you have an old lady to attend with rheumatizm, or some poor cowpoke who broke his leg?” I muttered back.

     “No, no, I just came over for a piece of chocolate pie and to watch you commensurate with your supposed ailments,” he cackled before pulling out a chair to sit.  Upon sitting he continued with his jawing.  “Miles, don’t you know that all those aches, pains, and scars are there for a purpose?”

     I gave him a stare of disbelief.

     “They’re there to remind you of how the good Lord kept you from a more serious ailment–dying,” he thought he was funny so he cackled again.

     I had to nod my head in agreement.  “You’re right, Doc.  A few more inches in any number of them and yuh wouldn’t have no one to be makin’ fun of.  You want some coffee?”

     Molly had seen him come in and was coming from the kitchen with a piece of chocolate pie, Doc’s favorite.  I stood to get a cup and pour him some coffee, and upon seeing her approach grabbed another cup.

     After placing the pie in front of Doc, she joined us at the table.  “Molly, I was just explaining to your thick-headed husband that he should be glad he’s got those scars.”

     Her eyebrows arched with a questioning look on her face.  “Oh, he’s just runnin’ his jaws like he normally does.”

     “No, I’m downright serious.  If those little holes were a few inches over in some spots he wouldn’t be sitting here complaining,” he gave a little laugh.  “And he most likely would have fewer holes.”

     “Doc, have you ever heard me complain?  Honestly now?  I may rub a little here and there, and jostle myself around to get more comfortable, but I don’t complain.  I know the hand of the Lord has been protectin’ me all these years.  I may even groan a bit…”

     I was interrupted upon saying that by Molly.  “Doc, he does his groaning while he’s sleeping.”

     “At least I don’t snore.  If anything I purr…”

     Again I was interrupted, this time by Jimmy Hopkins who burst through the door holding a piece of paper.  “Marshal, Mr. Offut sent me a runnin’ with this here telegram.”

     “Sit down, Jimmy,” requested Molly.  “Would you like a piece of pie?”  She had caught him gazing at Doc’s half-eaten pie.

     “Uh, uh, why sure, but I don’t…”

     “The Marshal will pay for it,” Doc informed him, with a snicker.

     Jimmy sat down, while Molly went to get him the pie.  I read the telegram that was from Marshal Blasco.  “Teeter not wanted — STOP — Without name hard to give information — STOP — Could be Hal Thornton, not wanted in Colorado — Wanted in Kansas, arrest him.  JB”

     The Lord works in mysterious ways.  I was just getting ready to tell Doc what was in the telegram when Teeter and his friend, possibly this Thornton, came through the door and settled at a table.  I smiled at him to which I received a nod.  I didn’t want to cause a commotion in the diner, so figured I’d wait until they got up to leave.

     Funny how life has its own way of thinking…