If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.  If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”  –1 John 1:8-9 (NIV)

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

     I jumped out of my chair rushing to meet her.  She was carrying a package, but she looked fraught as she stumbled toward me.  “A man,” she said pointing outside, “ran at me when I was coming beside the park.”

     She stifled a giggle then proceeded.  “I was startled to say the least, and he would have grabbed me but when he reached for me he slipped on the ice and fell.  Otherwise…” she let the thought linger.

     “Did you get a look at him?”

     Shaking her head, she muttered, “No, I only saw that he had on a brown coat and was wearing some kind of animal fur on his head, fox maybe.”

     I took her to the table where Doc was still sitting.  Donning my coat, I picked up the Greener and headed for the door.  “I’ll be back in a bit.”

     At the park I quickly found where Molly was accosted and the spot where the man fell.  He did not run back into the park but must have run in the tracks left by horses and wagons in the street.  He could not be far, so I decided to walk up toward the main part of town looking for any place that he might have left the tracks.  There were plenty of people milling around as it was a nice day after a week of snow.   I might add, plenty of people were wearing brown.  

     There were some wearing fur as headgear, but it was almost impossible to try to pick someone out.  I did see Lyle Gorman, outside his store sweeping the walk so I went up to him.  “Hey-do, Marshal,” he grinned.  “Nice day, but with the snow melting it sure creates a mess.”

     After greeting him I asked, “Lyle, did you happen to see a man in a hurry come by here?  He would have been wearin’ a fur hat.”

    He stopped to look around, a gloved hand rubbing his chin.  “Can’t rightly say, Marshal.  Seems like everybody’s in a hurry.  And I ain’t rightly been paying much attention.”

    “Thanks,” I muttered and went on up the street to glance in a couple of the saloons.  He couldn’t have gone far.

     I stepped inside the Broken Drum.  After letting my eyes adjust I scanned over the room.  Only a few people were at the bar with one table occupied.  None appeared as if they just came in from outside.  The next stop was Henry’s House.  It was a ne’er-to-do-place; one of which Mateo always found miscreants and drunks.  I was shaking my head when Mick Barnes the barkeep motioned for me to come to the bar.

     “You needin’ something, Forrest?” he asked curtly.

     “Just lookin’ around,” I replied then positioned myself where my back was against the bar.

     “This is a drinking place, not a looking place.  You’re crowdin’ up the bar if you’re not drinking,” he growled.

     I glanced up the bar, smiled at the lack of customers, then spoke back to Barnes, “I see you’re doin’ a bang-up business.  Now shut up while I’m perusin’ the clientele.”

     That caused him to grumble more, and he turned to walk back up to the end of the bar.  I decided to follow him, just for fun, or maybe it was orneriness.

     My guts told me that something was amiss.  At the end of the bar there was a door that either led to a stockroom or to the outside alley.  I decided to look inside.  As I started to open the door, Barnes hollered, “Hey!  You can’t go in there!”

     I stopped, glanced over at him.  “Watch!”  Instead of opening the door as I first intended I kicked it off the hinges.  There was no one there, but the door leading to the back alley was open.  I knew it would be useless to try to follow outside so I turned back to Barnes.

     “Who was in there?” 

     “Nobody,” came his quick reply.

     I heaved a sigh while at the same time lifted the shotgun.  “If you don’t want a thump, I would advise you to tell me.”

    He raised his chin with arrogant defiance.  “Try it!” he snapped.

    His eyes were partially fixed on the Greener so since he offered me such an inviting target I obliged him and struck him with my left fist on that jutting jaw.  He crashed to the floor.  Pulling himself up by the shelf under the bar I saw that he was reaching for a sawed-off shotgun.  “Not a good idea,” I stressed, cocking the Greener and pointed the barrel in his direction.

     Sputtering some kind of oath he stood glaring at me.  “Close up shop.  You’re comin’ with me.”

     “What for?” he demanded to know.

     “Oh, I could come up with a half dozen charges; might even think of a few more while walkin’ to the jail.”

     He went to a closet, and I watched him carefully to make sure he only pulled out a coat.  After he put it on we started for the door when…

But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.”  –1 John 1:7 (ESV)

 

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

     The snow came the day after Christmas and continued for three days causing fifteen inches or more to lay on the ground.  It surely slowed things down for a while; it took businesses a day to get open, and then the proprietors had to keep shoveling and sweeping to keep the boardwalk clean.  Most of them hired kids from the town to do it for them, but I did see Solly sweeping his own walk, and Lucas volunteered to go help Darnelle shovel and sweep in front of Fosters.

     If I took it slow and easy I was able to keep the walk in front of the diner clear.  The bruises were gone, the cuts and punctures healed, but if I moved fast or in one direction, I could still feel a twinge in the ribs.  With carriage and horse traffic the main roads were eventually packed down so folks could get around easier.  Now, a week later it was slush, muck, and sludge.  The temperature now up to the forties’ it was now a job to keep the mud from the front of the door.

     I had just finished my task entering the diner.  “Miles, why don’t you hire one of those youngsters to clean that walk off?” questioned Doc while sitting at the table guzzling coffee.  

     Going to the stove I reached for the pot, shook it a bit and heard the coffee swish inside, what little of it there was.  On the table was my cup, and I poured it full, then looked for Marta or Lola.  Both were busy with customers.  Since the weather had warmed, the diner had been busy.  Lola saw me, lifted her hand with a finger pointing upward signifying in a minute.

     As she came to me I held out the pot, “If you would please…”  She smiled nodding.  I had taught her to make pretty decent coffee and she willingly took up the task of making sure the pot on the stove where I sat was full.

     Sitting down, I took a swallow of the hot brew.  It was bitter, strong, almost scorched and I grimaced at the flavor.  I don’t mind strong coffee, in fact that is my preference, but I do not like scorched coffee.  Doc gave a chuckle.  “Sort of like drinking tar,” then he laughed again.

     Molly was out, buying from an IOU I gave her for Christmas.  I gave her a small gift, but I reckoned she knew better what she wanted or needed so I promised to buy her something later.  She was out now fulfilling that promise.

     “Still no idea of who tore into you?” asked Doc, pushing his cup aside.  

     I shook my head.  “I have no idea.  I’ve looked for people I might have arrested in the past, for someone who might be after me.  There are several strangers in town but most of them are hardluck miners out of a job.  If something had been stolen from me I might think it was some of them, but all they wanted to do was beat me up.”

     “You mean, beat you to death,” declared Doc.  “If Lucas hadn’t come running out, a few more licks and kicks in the right place might have done you in.  Fortunately for you those spurs didn’t catch you in the eye.”

     Reaching up I touched my cheek where one spur came mighty close to doing so.  “I’ll find them, Doc.  Sooner or later one of them will slip up.”

     We were talking about the weather, and Sunday’s preaching when Lola came with a fresh pot of coffee.  I quickly downed the tar in my cup, making a face as I did so.  Not only was it scorched, thick, but also cold, but I wanted to make room for the fresh coffee.  Lola giggled as she saw my face, then proceeded to fill my cup.  “Ahhh, that’s much better.”  I received a smile, then she placed the pot on the stove.

     “Either of you men want something?  Pie maybe?”

     Doc shook his head, and I replied,, “Not now.  When Molly gets back.”

     The coffee was good and Doc and I sat there sipping the fresh brew, chatting about this and that.  He told me that Edith fell, slipping on the ice and was laid up at home.  Nothing serious, but it bruised her hip and she was having trouble getting around.

     In through the door rushed Molly. 
     Miles…!

 

P.S. Be sure to purchase from Amazon the new novel, Lawman.  It tells part of the story regarding Miles Forrest.

For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all people, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people in Israel.” 

                      –Luke 2:30-32 (NIV)

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

     Rev. Chapman was waiting at the entrance to the church.  As was his custom he stood by the door to greet and if need be pray with those who came by.  He always had his hand out ready to shake, and Betty, his wife was there by his side with a smile.

     “I heard about your accident,” he said to me.  I could see that he wanted to smile, but he managed a straight face.  “Looks like a catamount really worked you over.”

     “Preacher you done let loose with a fine sermon, now don’t be overdoin’ it out here,” I tried to look mean as I said it, but who knows how I looked.  At least my eyes were open now, well, one was still partially shut.  I was still in quite some pain and moving mighty slow.

     Betty elbowed her husband, then gave me a smile.  “Miles, I am so sorry.  Is there anything we can do?”

     “Talk with Molly.  If’n there’s anything she could tell you.”

     The preacher put his hand on my shoulder, then looked straight at me.  “Seriously, Miles, if there’s anything we can do.”

     I nodded, then put on my hat.  “I know Parson.”

     Molly held me by the arm and we moved slowly and surely down the steps and on down the hill.  I was hurting by the time we reached the road.  Looking out before me, I found myself shaking my head.  It was five blocks on down to the diner, or about the same up on and around the hill to the cabin.

     “Hey, old man!  You need a ride somewhere?”

     Doc came up with his buggy.  “Jump in!  I’ll get you home.  Edith is staying with the Chapmans for dinner.  They are planning something for the kids next week.”

     He was smiling.  If he wasn’t my close friend I could be angry.  “Doc you don’t have to be so cheerful about my condition,” I said as I attempted to climb into the buggy.  “Give me a boost Molly.”

     She didn’t bother to look around to see if anyone was looking but put both hands on my behind and gave me a good shove.  Oh, did that hurt, but I was in the buggy and trying to get situated.

     “Come on Molly, there’s enough room for you.  We’re not going that far,” remarked Doc.  I grabbed onto her arm, as she put her foot on the step and moved into the buggy.  She looked at me, and I could see that she was worried about sitting on my legs.  One of them had taken quite a beating and there were several lacerations on it.  

     I gave a half smile, “Sit lightly.”

     When Doc saw that we were settled, he gave a click on his tongue and snapped the reins.  The old horse of his started plodding down the road then up the hill and around the curve.  I wouldn’t have made it to the cabin if I had to walk it.

     Molly jumped off when he stopped at the cabin door, then reached to help me down.  Kinda of embarrassing, to say the least.  She was in my customary position to aid her.

     “Miles, you have a week and a half to heal and be ready for Christmas,” barked Doc, but not unkindly.  “I’ll come by when I pick up Edith and check on those wounds.  You rest, those ribs won’t mend if you keep moving around.”

     “Thanks for the ride, Doc.  Now, if you’d quit flappin’ your jaws, Molly could get me inside where I could rest,” I snapped right back at him.  Then I gave him, or attempted to give him a smile.  “The coffee’ll be on.”

________________

 

P.S.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from Miles and Molly.  There most likely will not be another segment of the Saga until 2025.  Until then, you be happy, walk with the Lord and be alert.  Be on the lookout for my new novel — Lawman.  It is about the life of Miles Forrest.

        –Luke 2:7 (HCSB)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     All I had on my mind was that turkey dinner.  I was about midway down the park when an arm grabbed me pulling me into the trees.  I swung with the Greener and connected with something, but then I was struck on the head.  As I fell, I saw several pairs of boots begin to kick at me.  One took the rowel of his spur and began to kick with his heel at my side.  I couldn’t do anything; I still held the Greener.  In my groggy state I cocked a hammer and pulled the trigger–a blast came from the barrel.  It was then I felt another hard object hit my head and I went down the last thing I thought about was pumpkin pie.

     I came to lying on a table covered with a white sheet.  It caused me to laugh which brought pain, but I recalled another time I woke in a fancy room with flowers and one of those canopies over the bed.  I thought I was in the undertaker’s parlor.  I groaned again.

     “Well, he’s alive,” I half-heard a voice.

     “Oh, Miles, what have you got yourself into this time,” came a sweet-sounding voice that I seemed to remember.

     Molly came to my side to grasp my hand.  I must have been in bad shape as I could barely make her out.  One eye was shut and the other I had to squint.  I tried to grin when I asked in a whisper, “I take it I missed the turkey dinner and pie.”

     I heard someone grunt in the room; it must have been Doc.  “The turkey and pie will keep,” came the soothing voice of Molly.

     Two men stepped up to the side of the bed.  “Any idea who jumped you, Miles?”  It was Mateo asking.  I tried to shake my head, but the pain was too bad.  I lifted a hand and waved.

     “I don’t even know what happened,” I replied.  “Thirsty…”

     A few seconds later, Molly had a glass of water at my lips.  “Slow and easy, Mister,” she said trying to keep the tension down.

     “If Lucas hadn’t come running, well, those men most likely would have kicked you to death.  He heard the sound of the shotgun and came from the jail to investigate.” 

     Mateo added, “The blast from the shotgun must have scared them away,” he paused, and I tried to open my eye wider.  “Did you happen to hit any of them with the shot?”

     I vaguely recalled firing the shotgun, then everything went black.  “Don’t know.”

     I tried to lift myself up, but the pain shot through me.  “Easy, don’t try to be moving!” ordered Doc.  “If you need something ask.  Miles, I don’t have to tell you, that you’re really beat up.  It looks like a team of mules stomped on you.  Bruises and lacerations cover your body, and you have a few broken ribs.  I had to stitch up some of those cuts, they were pretty deep.”

     “Spurs,” I muttered.

     “What?” I heard the three of them exclaim at the same time.

     Doc leaned down, looking at my barely opened eye.  “You rest, sleep,” and he sorta chuckled, “and don’t be moving around.  I’ll check on you later.”

     I felt that they were leaving, but I held tightly to Molly’s hand.  “Don’t go,” I pleaded.  

     Someone, Mateo, may have said, “Stay, I’ll tell the others that he’s come to.”

     As I was drifting into unconsciousness again, my mind went to that dinner and pie…