The marshal, doc, and undertaker had finished with their business and taken out the bodies–living and dead. One is marginal, but doc don’t think he will make it. Now to get the blood off the floor. I checked and at least there was hot coffee, so poured a cup and sat down.
Molly was working on the floor in her traveling dress but Hannah and Greta, who were kept in the back, came out and told her to go sit. The rush was moving away from me, but then I jerked my head.
“Miles, what’s wrong?” Molly asked.
“Thought I saw someone else sittin’ there in the corner. My mind must be playin’ tricks.” Then I heard the distant cackle. I knew then–the Pale Rider.
“You’re bleeding!” Molly exclaimed.
I forgot during the ruckus that I felt something tag me. Seems like there were two shots. “Your neck,” and she went and got a cloth. It seemed the bullet just creased the back of my neck. More blood than being dangerous. Molly cleaned it good, and bandaged it.
“Should be another hole here somewhere,” I said and stood up.
We examined me and didn’t find any blood, much less another hole. I took off my jacket and there it was. A hole in the jacket and a small tear skimming my gunbelt. I checked the leather. It sure wouldn’t do to be out and all of a sudden my holster fall off when I needed it. The thought made me smile.
“Miles Forrest! This is not a laughing matter!” exclaimed Molly. “You could have been killed!”
“I didn’t go lookin’ for anything. Remember, they were in here waitin’ for us. Sit down and have a cup of coffee. It’ll settle that rile down that you’re accumlatin’.”
“Hmpf,” but she sat and I poured coffee.
“I surely hope I don’t have to deal with this often. I’m not sure though since Wray and his cronies are now out of prison. The Lord will just have to keep His hand on us. Feel sorta sorry for them guys though. They weren’t gunnies, just saddle-bums wantin’ to make some money–the bad way.”
A few days later I was sitting there eating some of the best biscuits and gravy with an egg on top, and Molly even succumbed to making a pie–raisin. Sure was feeling a bit spoiled. The next day Wells Fargo was sending me up to Ouray. They want me to check the security of the office there and then up to Montrose. I would be gone about two weeks.
“Don’t you go nowhere without the rifle; and be carryin’ the pistol with you as well.” I told Molly. “I don’t like leavin’ you this long so you be alert. It would be just like Wray to show up here. Hope Trenton is on the job, so if they leave Denver we’ll know about it.”
She put her hand on mine to try and reassure me she’d be alright. “Miles, I trust the same Lord as you. He’ll protect me the same way He does you.”
I sighed and reached for the coffee pot.
One thing, it would be nice riding in the mountains this time of year. Both Hawk and Star needed to be ridden, but I decided to take Hawk. He was a better mountain horse and the road from Silverton to Ouray was poor at the least. I had never ridden down from Silverton so this would be a new trail for me. I always look forward to seeing new country.

When we boarded in Denver, Molly asked about Trenton. “Didn’t he say he was going to be here?”
“See that gruff, old man sitting on the bench attempting to read the newspaper?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hear anything from him when I brought him a cup of coffee?”
“Just a grunt.”
“That was Trenton.”
“No!”
“He grunted ’cause he was a little disgruntled that I knew it was him. But he did a good job.”
The train ride was uneventful, in fact, right down enjoyable. As we were getting off I remarked, “See!”
“See what?” she responded.
“No trouble on this trip, well, not much anyhow. Plus we traveled all the way from Denver to Durango and nothing. No Indians, no bad men, not even a hornet to sting us.”
“What are you getting at Miles Forrest?” she asked.
“I’m a-thinkin’ that deserves some kind of pie.”
Molly arched an eyebrow and looked at me. “Oh you do, do you? What about Idaho Springs? In fact you went looking for trouble!”
She had two suitcases and I gave a nickel to one of the youngsters to take them over to the Eatery. We strolled along and stopped in at Wells Fargo to see if I had an trips scheduled. I had a message to see the boss tomorrow; something about going up to Ouray. But that was tomorrow.
I opened the door and was about to let Molly enter when my gaze took in two men sitting at different tables toward the back. There was only one table occupied besides the ones where they were sitting and it was in the front corner. I grabbed Molly and pulled her out.
“What is it?” she queried.
“Trouble, I think. Run down and get the marshal.”
I opened the door and went in and moved immediately to the other front corner. “Okay boys, what’s the set up?”
“Miles Forrest, you’re worth some money to us,” said a snarky, rat-faced looking man. “Good money, and split three ways, still good money.”
“Trouble is, there won’t be three of you sharing.” I looked at the three men. None of them were gunmen or even tough men, just dregs of evil wanting money.
The man to my right in the corner spoke. “You don’t think you can get three of us?”
“Might be hard, but I can surely get two of you. Not bad odds, one of you just might collect on that bounty.”
They might not know it, but the time for talking was over. Outnumbered three to one I figured I’d get this fandango going. I cut loose with the Greener at the rat-faced man. That one action of firing first probably saved me, for it caused them to hesitate. I pulled my pistol and shot at the man in the corner and flung a shot at the other man.
I felt a twinge and fired at the man in the corner, this time putting him on the floor. Kicking over the table I fell behind it. The man was firing but there was just enough protection. It gave me time to reload the Greener. I snapped a shot at him, then stood and fired the Greener. It tore the table he was behind into and took him down. I went to the man in the corner. He was trying to lift his gun, but I kicked it away.
The last one I shot was groaning and wiggling on the floor. I went to him. He would live, the table took most of the blow and the buckshot, but he was feeling some pain.
The door opened and in rushed the marshal and Molly. I looked at him and then to her. “About that pie Molly, I think I’ll just take a cup of coffee instead.”

I moved around the corner into the darkness. To his credit he stopped; I could tell he was wary of the situation.
“Mr. Forrest,” he said softly. “Don’t do anything rash. My hands are up.”
The Greener was held at my shoulder; it was Trenton. “That’s sure a good way to get yourself shot,” I said. “Cook send you to follow me?”
“Yes sir.”
“Figured I might get myself in trouble did he?”
“No sir. He said that it was more that trouble just naturally finds you,” he paused. “Please put down the shotgun. It kinda makes me nervous.”
I lowered the shotgun; he dropped his arms, and that little shrug saved one of our lives as the shot rang out. I grabbed him and jerked him into the darkness of the alley. Neither of us moved and we stayed hunkered down for a few minutes. I motioned for him to be still and I went over to the other side of the alley to peer out. I knew approximately where the shot came from, but couldn’t pinpoint anything unless he shot again, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to know where he was that much.
Dark was approaching and I figured I could go to the other side of the alley without getting shot. Peering around the corner I could only guess where the shot might have come from unless I drew another one. I know my mind is feeble at times, but right then I didn’t want to set myself up as a sitting duck. I motioned for Trenton to follow me down the alley and we would go to the station the back way. Chances were that the shooter was gone anyway.
Now, a week later Trenton and I were relaying the story to Cook in his office back in Denver. Molly was out shopping, but there first words she said when we returned was, “Now, what kind of trouble did you get into?” I had to assure her I didn’t do a thing. Cook was grinning about this now.
“But Dave, honestly, what are we going to do about this?” I asked.
“Not much we can do. I think the three of us can surmise that Wray or Henderson took that shot, or someone they paid. We just have to be vigilant.”
“I doubt it was Wray. Henderson yes; maybe Iverson has joined them by now.”
“Trenton,” began Cook, “do you think you could find Wray again and follow him around without being noticed?”
“Most likely. It was getting dark and even if he was the shooter, I don’t think he could have seen my face. Plus, I’ll be in disguise.”
“Let’s let Trenton do his work. Miles, when are you and Molly leaving?”
“If she has her orders and shopping done the plan is to leave tomorrow.”
We got up to leave and we all shook hands. In parting Trenton leaned over to me, “I’ll see you tomorrow before you leave.”