I sort of felt a little guilty playing that trick on Tandy, but not real bad. He had to learn the tricks if he was to stay alive.  But there was still something gnawing at my stomach. Some may call it a gut feeling, but I tend to think that it is God trying to tell me something. I learned a long time ago not to ignore it.
But I didn’t do anything else to him and we arrived back in Durango. I took him over to the eatery. First to introduce him to Molly, but I was also hoping there might be a piece of pie. I knew the coffee would be on.
Molly came out as we entered. Tandy walked up to her. “So this is the famous Molly,” and he reached out to shake her hand.
I motioned to the table. “Any chance there’s some pie?”
“Quit giving me that pitiful look.” She looked at me and raised her eyebrow and nodded toward Tandy as he was sitting down. I shrugged my shoulders. Then she turned and went to the kitchen. “Will apple do?”
We ate a piece of pie and then Molly brought out dinner. My, I sure did remember I like her cooking much better than mine. After finishing Tandy went out and Molly refreshed my coffee.
“What about him? she asked.
I told her the story of what happened in Montrose and then added. “There’s just somethin’ about him. How did he know about you? I didn’t mention you to him at all. In fact, I was only with him one evenin’ and that little bit when he tried to take me.”
I continued after taking a sip. “It would be nice to have someone I trusted watch my back, but I’m got this itchy feelin’. Say, why don’t you and I go shoppin’? I want to take you to Conrad’s.”
“Conrad’s? Isn’t he the gunsmith?”
“That’s right and one of the best I know.”
The next morning after the breakfast rush we went over to Conrad Schlutze’s place. He was a grand old man whose father came over from the old world before the War. He taught Conrad the art of gunsmithing.
“Welcome, welcome, what can I do for you Mr. Forrest?”
“I’d like to see a small caliber for Molly here. Maybe .32 caliber, something she can easily handle.”
She punched me in the shoulder. “Do you think I can’t handle a gun? Remember who my father was? He taught me a thing or two about guns.”
“That wasn’t what I was thinkin’. It was more the size; easy to carry around.”
While we were conversing, Conrad came over with a couple of small guns. One was a sleek looking .32 Smith and Wesson. “Oh Miles, I like that one.” And Conrad handed it to her.
She knew what she was doing as she checked to see if it was loaded. “I could make a special pocket in my apron that this would fit in and nobody would know.”
“How about a shotgun?” I asked.
“I have the rifle, and now I have the pistol. I don’t think I’ll need to protect myself against an army,” she said sarcastically.
“I hope you never have to use them, but I feel better when I’m travelin’ knowin’ that you have them.”
“We have a couple of hours before the lunch crowd comes. Let’s go try it out. Plus Two-Bits hasn’t been ridden in forever.”
It was fun. We fired several rounds and it seemed to be a good gun. I still preferred my Schofield .45, but it was a right powerful little gun. It would do. We rode to the eatery and I took the horses back to the pasture as Molly went in to help feed the lunch bunch. I hadn’t seen Tandy so I didn’t know if he was following me or not. I reckoned not. I’m sure I would have noticed if he were back there.
When I went to the eatery for lunch I knew for sure he wasn’t out there, for he was sitting at the table and in my chair. “Here we go again,” I thought to myself.

It sure was nice to be out riding in the high country again. Seems like so much of my work was traveling by stage or train anymore, so this was a refreshing venture, and Hawk seemed to be enjoying it as well. The only real problem is that I had to go back to eating my own cooking. Not that it was all that bad, but Molly does much better. I can eat beans and bacon, but her biscuits and gravy along with a piece of pie beats my fare any day.
Tandy stayed a quarter of a mile to half mile behind me. I really didn’t know the kid. Kid, he was twenty, so no longer a kid in the eyes of society, but when I saw him I saw someone with a lot to learn. He seemed eager enough, but sometimes eagerness could get a person killed like it almost did him.
I thought about having him come into my camp, but the folks would know we were traveling together. It did sort of concern me about what he knew about living out in the woods or along the trail. Guess he would have to learn quick.
A danger for me would be to forget to check my back trail. Even though he was trailing me, I couldn’t afford to get lazy. A good way to get killed was to not check the back trail. Hmmm, that’s true of life some as well. Remember what was behind and learn from it, but don’t let any of it get you down.
I wanted to make it over Red Mountain Pass and camp somewhere on the downside. Figured it might be time to give Tandy a little lesson to see if he was alert. Normally I make camp about a half-hour to hour before dark. Today I decided to pull off a little earlier. About a half hour later there came Tandy. I’ll give him this, he was looking around at the surroundings, but not good enough. I let him ride on by and a few minutes later started out.
Now it was my turn to be careful. Since I didn’t know the kid very well, if I came up on him sudden-like he might just start shooting. But I wanted to see how alert he was and how much control he had, at the same time I didn’t want to be eating any lead. He went around a bend that was sheltered by a large rock. In my mind, if I had someone trailing me, this would be a good place to stop and wait for them. I stopped and waited, and waited, and waited. Patience is often the game of life, and I learned long ago that in a situation like this to be patient.
Then I had a thought and moved down, off the trail behind some aspen. It was another ten minutes or so that I heard hooves on the rocks. It was Tandy, checking his backtrail. Good. I was down, off the trail, and most folk tend to look up for danger. Sure enough, he was looking up, his pistol was out and he was moving slowly.
“Tandy!” I yelled. He turned and I thought he was going to fall off his horse. Then I heard him cock his pistol. He still hadn’t spotted me. I cocked mine as well, something didn’t seem just right.
“Is that you Mr. Forrest?” he asked.
“Holster your gun,” I ordered.
“Oh, yes sir, just forgot. I wasn’t expecting you.”
I moved on out of the aspens. “Not bad, but don’t forget to check all around you,” I paused. “Why did you think someone was behind you?”
“I thought I heard hooves clattering on the rocks, so I stopped and listened. Then I figured I should check it out. Sure glad it was you. By the way, why’d you do it?”
“Figured I should see how much learnin’ you’ve had. Like I said, not bad. Let’s move on down and see if we can find a stream and set up camp for the night. If I recall there is one not too far down trail.”
Thirty minutes later we came to the stream and I moved upstream this time. “Funny thing,” I said. “People tend to look up the side of a mountain first, but I think folks will set up camp on the downhill side. I’ve never figured that one out.”
We moved twenty minutes up the small stream off the trail. I let him rustle up the wood, after all he was the youngster and I got fixin’s out for supper. Soon the coffee was boilin’ and the bacon fryin’. I opened a can of beans and poured them in a little white enamel pan I carried with me.
He went to find more wood for the night and I got my Bible out from my saddlebags. I was reading about Abner, Saul’s great captain, coming to the camp of David and how David accepted him.
“Whatcha reading, Mr. Forrest?” he asked.
“My Bible.”
“Bible! You like those kid’s stories? I always figured they were just tall tales.”
“Nope, this book is true. Lots of life lessons to be learned here, plus gettin’ a person ready for the next life.”
“Next life?”
He turned to his bedroll, and as dark was now upon us I put my Bible back in my bags. I went to sleep, feeling a little uneasy, not really knowing why. Over the years, however, I learned to lean upon those feelings and not push them away.

When I said he was “much uglier than me,” the man looked down; that gave me just enough time to thrust the Greener up under his chin. I sorta pushed and he went to his toes.
“I guess we sorta got ourselves a dilemma here. It’s what some call a ‘Mexican standoff’; unless we agree someone is bound to lose. You can pull that trigger, and it’ll get me sure ‘nough, but I’ll still be able to pull mine as well and then the top of yur head’ll come off and you’ll sure not collect on that bounty.”
I gave a little nudge upward. Now I’m sure he was a bit uncomfortable. It was bad enough to have a shotgun pointed at you, but it just had to be worse if it was up under your chin. “Why don’t you unholster that gun of yours and I’ll drop the shotgun. Plus it doesn’t pay to go shooting United States Marshals.”
“Marshal!” he exclaimed. “I thought you were an outlaw. Honest I would never have pulled on you if’n I thought you were a marshal.”
While he was jabbering his apologies and took him over to the hitching rail and tied him to it. I grabbed a kid walking by and gave him a nickel to go and fetch the town marshal.
“Dangerous thing, being a bounty hunter,” I paused. “Especially if you don’t understand who put out the poster. How old are you anyhow?”
“Past twenty!” he said a little indignantly. “Why did you go and tie me up?”
“You broke the law. Hmmm, how many years for the attempted murder of a U.S. Marshal? I guess at least thirty in the penitentiary. Why, you’ll be an old man when you get out.”
His eyes widened. “Honest Marshal, I didn’t know.”
“Those are famous and often-used last words. Plenty of folk will try and use them at the Last Judgment. Good lesson to learn, if you live long enough, ignorance can be dangerous.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but I was having a little fun with the kid. Maybe too much fun. “What’s your name?”
“Tandy.”
“Just Tandy?”
“It’s Jean Tandy,” he replied.
“I didn’t quite catch that, did you said John?”
“No. Jean, J-e-a-n.”
“That spells Jean, that’s a girl’s name!”
“No, it’s Jean! My mother was French!” he said exasperated.
“Well, what Frenchman would give her kid a girl’s name? What does Jean mean?”
“It means John in English,” he replied.
“My mercy, then why didn’t she just name you John rather than Jean? I can see why you call yourself Tandy.”
The marshal was coming up the street. At first glance he seemed to be a competent person. At last he was ragtag and filthy. “Marshal, you know anything ’bout this fellow? He tried to collect a bounty on me.” I showed him the poster.
“Never seen him before. Lots of folk movin’ in and out of town right now. Want I should take him down and lock him up?”
I looked at the kid. He was truly scared. “Mister Marshal,” he was almost bawling. “I’ll do anything to help ya, just don’t lock me up in no prison.”
“Nah, I think I’ll have a little talk with him. If I don’t like what I hear I’ll bring him on down to the jail.” The marshal nodded and walked off.
“Hungry Tandy?” I asked. “I’ve found it always a little easier to talk over a good meal, coffee, and maybe a good piece of pie. Any place ’round here where we can find some?”
“I haven’t been here long…but Marshal, I don’t have any money to eat in a restaurant.”
“This is a business meetin’, therefore the meal is paid by the business.” I untied him. “Let’s go, I have a few things to discuss with you.”
We walked in and found us a table. The waitress was on the job and quickly brought us some coffee. I ordered the elk stew and biscuits and told Tandy to get what he wanted. He ordered a slab of beefsteak. I guess a growing boy needs food.
“Want a job?” I asked and he looked up. “I’m tired of folk like you comin’ up to me to collect that bounty. Some of them have tried to backshoot me. Now, I can take care of most problems in front of me, but those I can’t see a-comin’ tend to fret me some. I need someone to be around and watch that my back don’t become an easy target.”
I waited for an answer…

My mercy, the road from Silverton to Ouray was clogged. I had never been north of Silverton and the hills were loaded with mines, miners, camps and the road was filled with wagons and pack mules. To add to the problem, the road was extremely tight in some areas; definitely no room for two wagons to pass. It reminded me some of the time I worked as a teamster in the Boulder region while working for Dave Cook.

The little office of Wells Fargo in Ouray was sturdy and doing work. Most of the ore, however, went over the mountains to Silverton where it could be transported by rail. Most of what was in Ouray was from the local region. I spent a day there in town before heading down toward Montrose. I purchased some supplies for the trail: coffee, bacon, and some cans of beans and peaches.
I spent that night in the mountains enjoying the coolness of the evening and hot, strong coffee. I kind of felt weird. Guess I was getting real used to Molly be around me. A couple of years back and I would have just enjoyed the weather, but now I felt just a little empty. I’ve heard a good woman does that to you; you just get used to her being around.
Leaning forward to pour another cup of coffee before going to my blankets, I felt a strangeness in the camp. I didn’t hear him come in, and being upwind I didn’t smell him either.
“Pour me a cup, friend Miles,” came the voice with laughter behind it. “You sure do leave me busy sometime, but I’m still waiting for the day when I get to gather up your soul.”
“First of all, I ain’t pourin’ you no coffee. You don’t drink it anyway, and I’m not goin’ to waste it. Second, I’m not and never will be your friend. And one more thing, you will never gather up my soul!”
That got to him. I could see the blue veins pulsating under his pale skin. There was a little snarl coming from deep in his throat. “Maybe not you then, but Molly. I’ll take the missus.”
“Listen, you imp from the pit, you may get our bodies, at least temporarily, but never our souls. When it’s time to pass over He’ll be there to gather our souls.”
He was gone, but there seemed to be a putrid smell in the air around a little green mist left behind. I was sorely tempted to move to another campsite for the night. Then I saw the mist move toward the fire and it hovered there forming a smile and then disappeared.
It had been many years now since I had first seen the devil’s grin. It was in the burning of my wife-to-be’s plantation. I can see it clearly in my mind, just like it was then, at wide grin that seemed to mock me. Over the years, the taking of the Shenandoah, riding with McNelly, the trail drives, working with Cook and then being on my own, either that grin or the Pale Rider would occasionally appear. Sometime it agitated me, but tonight when the threat was placed on Molly, it brought a dread upon me.
I decided I might as well crawl into my blankets. At first I couldn’t sleep, just tossed and turned. That also perturbed me. I should be able to rebuke that ol’ devil, but sometimes he was just hard to ‘buke. Then I heard the howl of coyotes off in the distance and I sensed someone else in camp. I remember taking a deep sigh and that was it until morning.
It was decidedly warmer down off those mountains. A couple days later and I was in Montrose. I had been there a couple of times before, and it was definitely growing. It was a ranching and farming community and was certainly a’bustling when I rode to the Wells Fargo office.
That office needed some real work. It was only a wood building and that made it susceptible to fire. They had a good safe, but it was also old and needed to be replaced. The two men working seemed qualified enough, but they were paper-shufflers and they hadn’t hired any guards. I would put in my report that a brick building needed to be found or built and that guards needed to be hired. I figured Montrose would continue to grow and they would need a banking center.
Upon leaving the office I noticed a person standing across the street was giving me some attention. He was looking at me and then down at a piece of paper that he unfolded. I was getting ready to mount Hawk, take him down to the livery and then get my room, when he crossed the street.
“This be you?” he asked and showed me the bounty paper, which had covered a drawn pistol.
“Nah, he’s older than me, and much uglier.” That took him back a moment and he glanced at the dodger. Then…