It wasn’t unusual for men to buy dynamite since this was a mining hub, but it bothered me that three miscreants would be purchasing the goods.  Perhaps I was thinking wrongly, they might be working up in one of the canyons at a digging, but my gut instinct told me different.  I was hoping that Doc was right and a man would show up at his place in need of help.

     I stood back in the shadows of some pines at the little park about a block and a half from Doc’s office.  Darkness was starting to settle in as the last rays of the sun went down over the horizon.  Mateo, I was sure, had his position somewhere at the back of the office.  Now, we waited…but for how long?  I knew Doc was right, if that bullet hit the man in the hip or pelvis he was in a world of hurt.  Even if it hit only muscle, he would have lost a lot of blood.  But would they take a chance and bring him to the doctors; it was the only one in the area?

     Ten minutes later a wagon pulled up in front of the office.  It was too dark to recognize the man as he lumbered off the wagon and went to banging on Doc’s door.  In the quietness of the Sunday night, I could hear the man.  “Are you the doctor?” he barked.

     Doc’s calm voice responded, “I’m Doctor Jones.”

     The man turned toward the wagon.  “There’s a man hurt bad in the wagon.  I was ridin’ into town an’ happened to notice him lyin’ in the ditch.  I went to check on him, and when I touched him he began groanin’ somethin’ fierce.  I was most ‘feared to touch him, but I knew he’d probably die if’n I didn’t get him into see a doc.”

     Shuffling out to the wagon, Doc took one look.  “Let’s get him into the office so I can examine him.”

     The man put down the wagon gate, and I heard Doc ask him, “Do you know this man?”

     Quickly responding, the man answered, “Never seen him before in my life.”  Lifting the man out, Doc continued to ask, “You have a name?”

     There was hesitation, then the man stuttered, “Mark Barstow.”

     Doc looked up at him.  “Not sure if I’ve seen you before.  You work around here?”

     No answer came forth as they carried the man into the office.  When the door was shut I moved on over to the wall beside the office.  I could hear only pieces through the closed window.  I’d give Doc time to start examining the man then go in.

     “You’re right, this man’s in bad shape.  Left any longer and he would’ve died, might yet.”

     It was time for me to make my entry.  I entered nonchalantly.  “Evening Doc, I was makin’ my rounds and spotted a wagon in front of the office.  Anything wrong?”  I watched the man closely for any moves.  I did notice that he was some uncomfortable when he saw me enter.

     “Miles, got a wounded man here in bad shape.  Shot in the hip and I think his pelvis might be broken.  Bullet’s still in him so I’ve got to get that out,” said Doc all the time working on the man.  “Where’s Edith when I need her?” he mumbled.  “Mister, Barstow, right?” he questioned looking over at the man.  “I’m going to need your help.  Get a pot of water on that stove…I need it hot.”

     Barstow moved to find a pot and added some wood to the low burning stove while Doc cut away the patient’s clothes.  I stood there watching then asked, “Shot?  Where’d you find him?”

     “On the road in from Mancos,” replied the man, setting the pot on to heat.

     “What are you comin’ into Durango on a Sunday night for?  Everything’s closed except the saloons.”

     “Comin’ in for supplies, thought I’d stay the night then get them in the mornin’.”

     I glared at the man, then turned my attention to Doc.  “Think he’ll live?”

     “Tell you the truth, he’s in bad shape…lost a lot of blood. Listen, I’m going to need the two of you to hold him still while I dig for that bullet.  I don’t want any more damage to his pelvis.  He’s going to be out of commission for a long spell as it is.”

     Doc had his tools near him and picked up a scalpel.  He was moving it toward the wound when the man’s eyes opened wide and he hollered, “Bart!…”

They were purchasing,” Theo’s voice dropped to an almost whisper, “dynamite.”

     Doc and I looked at each other, then my eye caught that of the Reverend, who was still sort of moping.  

     After checking the dead body, Bart Feakes according to Theo, I stood up and went to the preacher.  Molly was there now with Edith consoling Betty, but it was time to get the preacher thinking straight.  Doc said that his shoulder would be fine, so I grabbed Parson Chapman by his jaw and turned his head where he could see his wife.  “There is your priority, not that man on the floor!  You did right!”

     He pulled away from my hands.  I could see he tried to smile at his wife, but then he turned his eyes towards me.  “But I didn’t have to kill him.”

     “No, he could have killed you, but worse, he would have made you watch while they took your wife,” I barked, then stooped to look him in the eye as he had dropped his head.  “Could you live with that?  Could she?”

     It was at that time that Betty stood up going over to her husband.  She knelt before him and they embraced, both breaking out in tears.

     Doc tugged at my arm and we stepped away from the two consoling each other.  “Miles, if Dale is right, then that man is going to be needing a doctor.  If he was shot in the hip he’ll need more than someone just taking the bullet out.  There’s a chance his pelvis or hip could be broken, plus he would have lost a lot of blood.  Let me head on back to my office and see if he shows up.”

     “Good idea, I’ll walk along with you,” came my quick reply.

     “No, no, let me get settled, and say, oh, maybe thirty minutes you can start to monitor the area.  They may be watching and if you’re with me, they might not show their faces,” urged Doc who then went over to Edith.

     I stood by as Doc talked to Edith and Molly who both agreed to stay with the Chapman’s as long as needed.  Doc nodded at me when he left, Edith was up and going to the kitchen to make some tea.  As Doc went out the door, Mateo entered.

     Theo was still standing there, so I thought I’d get him busy.  “Theo, tell those folk out there to go on home or go about their business.   I pulled Mateo aside to tell him the situation and what Doc and I had planned.  He said he would leave ten minutes after I did and take the long way around to Doc’s and come in from the back.  That way no one could enter or leave the office without being seen.  We wanted one of those men alive.

     Mateo said he recognized Bart Feakes and would Lester if he saw him, but he didn’t really know them.  They worked the mines from time to time, ran freight and did other odd jobs.  He didn’t know where they were staying, but would work on that.

     Edith was bringing the tea when I went over to the Chapmans.  “Pastor, this most likely won’t help, but I’ve struggled with what you’re thinkin’ in the past.  Sometimes we have to do unsavory things to save those we love.”

     He looked at me nodding, then took the cup from Edith whispering a thank you to her.  I went over to Molly to explain what Mateo and I were going to do.  She nodded, then embraced me.  “I’ll stay here as long as they need me,” she said, then looked at the body on the floor.  “It might be a help to all of us, if someone would cart that carcass out of the room.”

     “Parker should be here anytime,” I said, but got that look.  “Theo, help me move the body out of the house.”

     It was time for me to head out.  I glanced one more time around at those in the room.  I’d find the men who did this, and they would pay to the full extent of the law.  As I walked down the street, a thought struck me, “But whose law…”

Marshal!” the voice sounded frantic.  “Come quick!”

     Jimmy Hopkins ran up the hill to where Molly and I were standing.  When he got to us he couldn’t speak, he was so out of breath from his exertion.  “Slow down,” I ordered.

     He looked up at me, I could see that he was crying.  “Marshal, it’s terrible.  The…the preacher has been shot!” he said, still puffing hard.

     I grabbed the Greener that was against the stall and started to run, then stopped abruptly.  “Where is he?”

     Jimmy pointed, “At his place.”

     “Hurry, Miles.  I’ll be along shortly,” said Molly as she knelt before the quivering boy.

     I knew better than to run headlong into possible trouble so I slowed down about a block before reaching the little church where my good friend, Dale Chapman was pastor.  He and Betty had a small parsonage attached to the back of the church.  There was a flock of people outside, Theo Howell was at the top of the steps keeping them from getting in the home.

     Pushing people aside, I went on up the steps.  Howell nodded at me, “Go on in Miles!”

     Upon entering the little living room, I saw Betty lying on the sofa with Edith Jones attending her.  Pastor Chapman was sitting in a chair with Doc Jones tending a bloody wound on his shoulder.  I rushed toward him, then stumbled–there was a body on the floor.

     The Parson must have heard me for he looked up, tears in his eyes.  “I killed him, Miles.  I shot him down like a rabid dog…” he stopped – whether it was him catching the vindictiveness in his voice or Doc working on his shoulder, but I saw pain etched on his face.  There was a pistol lying on the floor next to the chair.

     “Let me finish Miles, then you can ask him your questions,” commanded Doc.  “Hush up now, let me finish,” he said, putting his attention to the Parson.

     I took a couple of steps to where Edith was with Betty.  Standing near here, I said in a hushed tone, “She all right?”

     Edith was holding her hand, Betty was pale and looked to be frightened most out of her wits.  When I spoke Edith nodded.  “Just a terrible scare.  She’s all right,” then added, “at least physically.”

     When I had that assurance I turned to the body on the floor.  He had a hood over his face that looked like a flour sack.  The preacher had shot him right in the throat causing a puddle of blood to be on the floor.  I pulled off the hood to look at the face of a man who would harm a preacher of God’s word.  I didn’t know him, possibly I’d seen him around town, but he wasn’t a common citizen.

     “There were three of them,” came the voice of Rev. Chapman.  “I shot him and one other.  I guess with the shots they thought they should get away before people started showing up,” he paused as Doc finished stitching him up.  

     “They were threatening Betty,” he said with tears flowing again.  “I didn’t have a choice, they, they were going to…”

     I went to him, putting my hand on his shoulder.  “You did the right thing,” I assured him.  “What did they want?”

     “Did I?” he questioned.  “I’m a preacher of the Gospel.  I didn’t turn the other cheek.  I just found my gun and started shooting.”

     He dropped his head into his hands, until he winced from the movement from his injured shoulder.  “Miles, they wanted to know where Javier and Agatha were living.”

     I took a couple of quick steps towards the door, when Doc jumped up between me and the door.  “Don’t do anything rash.  We’ll find the wounded man.  Pastor thinks his bullet hit him in the leg or hip.  He’ll be needing a doctor.”

     Theo came in the door, “Miles, you best be gettin’ out here to settle down this crowd.”  He glanced down at the body on the floor, “Why that’s Bart Feakes.  He and his brother Lester were in the store just yesterday.”  He paused, his eyes getting wide, “they were purchasing…”

The Bible says, ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself,'” the words of Rev. Chapman’s sermon kept running through my mind as I sat at the table.

     “Miles!  Miles!  Where are you?” the voice of Molly finally got through to me.  “You seem a hundred miles away.”

     Upon seeing that I was spooning my chili back and forth in the bowl I loaded several spoonfuls into a tortilla stuffing a large bite into my mouth.  As I chewed I glanced over at Molly who was keenly watching me.

     It seemed like it was several minutes, but I knew only a few seconds passed before I finished swallowing.  “Sorry, I was thinkin’ ’bout the preacher’s sermon.”  I paused to look at my bowl, then thrust the tortilla into the chili.  “Molly, I don’t think I can fit that bill.”

     She arched her brows, watching me bring the chili filled tortilla to my mouth.  As I bit into it, she asked, “What bill is that, may I ask?”

     After I chewed and swallowed, I answered.  “Loving my neighbor.  I don’t hold much love for Amos Martin right now.”

     A small chortle came from her, “At least you didn’t go give him a thump.”

     I finished the tortilla, wiping the rest of the chili in the bowl with it.  “Good chili,” I said, pushing the bowl away from me on the table.

     “Sorry, I didn’t make a pie, but there are some teacakes.  Fill your cup and go on out to the porch and I’ll bring you some.”

     She didn’t have to tell me twice.  I was sitting on one of the two chairs on the porch that looked down towards the river.  It was mid-summer, but up here in the trees the air was cool, especially with the slight breeze.  She came out with a small plate with some teacakes on it, carrying a cup of coffee in her hand.

     “So, tell me more.  What are you thinking regarding his sermon?”

     I chomped into one of the little, cake-like cookies, chewed before I tried to answer knowing my manners.  “In my job, a person gets kinda hardened to what evil folks do to others.  I’ve seen some of the worst things that man can do to another,” I paused for a moment before continuing.  “Some things are downright atrocious.  Makes them sort of unlovable.”

     Nibbling on a piece of cookie, she spoke in a low voice, “What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” 

     Taking a sip, I answered, “This from Micah as well, ‘The good man is perished out of the earth:  and there is none upright among men:  they all lie in wait for blood; they hunt every man his brother with a net.'”  Then took another bite.

     For some reason she smiled.  “Miles, we’ve been over this before.  You are called by God to bring men to justice.  You don’t revel in their evil deeds and you let the court decide their guilt.”  She stopped to take a larger bite, chewed, then started again.  “You didn’t go thump Martin, but are waiting, hmmm, somewhat patiently for him to make a mistake.”

     She was right.  After what he had instigated regarding the beating of Father Damian and the marking up of the church along with scarring of Hawk it took all I could muster to not preach a sermon to him with the barrel of my Greener.  I was heading for Martin’s store that next morning but felt I should just pass on by.  It was not the time as I didn’t have any evidence except what I thought a dying man said.

     “Molly, it’s been over a week.  Somethin’ has to give.”

     Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone running up the road.  “Here comes Jimmy Hopkins,” I muttered, while shaking my head.  “He rarely brings me good news.  Go get him a couple of teacakes and we’ll see what message he has for me.”

     “Marshal, oh Marshal Forrest, come quick!  It’s…”