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     It was that time of year when miners who had been laid off for the winter months began to filter into Durango.  After the strike and fiasco a few years back, most of the larger mines let the married men stay in the company houses with minimum rent.  Silverton, with the aid of the mines, provided a place where single men could stay at a reasonable cost.  Many, however, came on down to Durango.  It was warmer and there were plenty of places for them to spend their money.

     That was the shame of it.  The mines, the larger ones at least, paid them well enough to get through the winter months.  That is, unless they spent their wages foolishly, which the majority of them did.  The vices of the town called out to them and they answered, then they paid the price.  Both Rev. Chapman and Father Cisneros tried to help the down and out, but they could only do so much and they had little room to house the men.

     Miners came primarily from the Silverton area, but a few still came in from Telluride.  There was a little community springing up that had once only been a stage station.  They were calling it Cortez.  Another place to add to Charlie’s list.  A few Mexican sheepherders, a group of small farmers, and now, unemployed miners; yep, Charlie would have his hands full there.

     The days were pleasant, but soon winter would be fully upon us.  I was sitting by the stove in the diner, when Doc Jones came in to visit.  He ambled over, pulled out a chair and sat himself.  After he was seated, he pointed to the coffeepot on the stove.  Shaking my head, I got up to get him a cup and fill it from the pot.  I don’t know why he just didn’t do it himself before sitting down.

     Marta and Emelda were running the place under Molly’s supervision, though they didn’t need much of it.  Molly was currently out getting some produce from Crandall’s Grocery.  I am still amazed that they can put goods in a can and keep them.  Sure does help through the year, especially the winter months.  Molly still took care of the books and the expenditures.

     Doc was sipping his coffee.  Setting down the cup, he scratched the side of his face, that meant he was about to say something.  “What is the plan for Martin’s store?” he asked.  “Seems a shame for it to be sitting there all boarded up.  It’s still full of goods isn’t it?”

     I didn’t reply for it seemed like he was going to continue.  “You know the Peabodys?  They seem like fine folks.”

     “From what I know of them they are,” I replied wondering where he was going with his thoughts.

     “Why don’t you go talk to them?” he said, more of an order than a question.  When I didn’t answer, he continued.  “Ever thought of letting the Peabodys run the store and sharing the proceeds with Martin’s daughter?”

     Marshall Peabody was a man who had brought his family West with him.  I wasn’t sure from where they came, someplace in Ohio I thought.  He was going to strike it rich, like so many others and went broke instead.  Now, he and his wife Eloise were living in a tent north of town with two small children; a girl of six, Penny, and a boy who was four, if I remembered right, named Jake.  They had made it thus far by keeping a little garden with Marshall hiring out to odd jobs.  People liked him, and he had a good reputation.  With Lucas now working at the jail, Marshall had taken his place chopping wood for various businesses and people in town.

     “There’s a couple of rooms upstairs,” Doc stated.  “That would get them out of that tent and someplace to stay during the winter.”

     I sipped at my coffee.  “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” he barked a little exasperated.  

     Standing up, I took the last swallow, then put on my jacket.  Grabbing the Greener I started to walk out.  “Where are you going?” he snapped.

     “Think, I’ll have a talk with Judge Klaser…”

Marshal Forrest has finally gathered evidence against Amos Martin and is furiously tracking him before he can get to the ranch where Javier and Agatha are living and working.  In the midst of tracking Martin, Miles is attacked by a puma and now has come across a horde of buzzards.  What is behind those rocks where the buzzards are feasting?  Come with me for another adventure in the Saga of Miles Forrest and join him as he scouts to find what the buzzards are feeding upon.

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     At first glance I saw the remnants of a fire, then saw the swarm of buzzards gathered around a body.  Picking up a stick I threw it at them, but only one paid attention.  Drawing my pistol I fired into the air, then again.  The second shot drove them away, into the air, but a few gave me hungry looks.

     The body, or what was left of it, was that of a man.  His face was nearly eaten away, and he had been partially skinned.  My stomach turned over and I thought I was going to be sick.  I hadn’t seen such mutilation since I was in the Texas Rangers many years ago fighting El Diablo.  I was pretty sure it was Martin.  A renegade bunch of Jicarilla had gotten to him, and now the buzzards were finishing the dismembering.

     Evil was in the world, and perhaps I could give this over to the fact that this bunch were a pagan lot, but no matter…it was gruesome.  I got closer to make sure it was Amos Martin.  Was this some kind of retribution to what he caused in Durango?  Perhaps…  I wasn’t about to take his body back with me, and I didn’t have a shovel to dig a grave.  Looking around, I saw where I may be able to topple some rocks down to cover his body; it would at least keep it from the predators and those awful birds.  I say awful, but they just give that appearance for they serve a definite purpose.

     I searched the body for anything that may be on it, papers, money, a watch, and the like, then drug what was remaining over to a large rock where several rocks were sitting on top.  I covered the body with rocks from the ground then climbed to shove off those rocks onto the grave.  It took some time and effort, but a man, no matter how evil he was, deserves a burial.  I  know he had already met his Maker, but it was still the right thing to do.

     His horse was gone, either to be used by the band of renegades or eaten.  However, his saddlebags were there, untouched.  Rifle, pistol, and anything else that may be of use to the Jicarilla was gone.  I looked up to see the buzzards flying around and a couple of the birds settled on the boulder next to where I buried Martin.

     All the while I was working, I was keenly aware of my surroundings.  I didn’t reckon those Indians would be back, but it doesn’t pay to get lax.  If I did I may be the next meal for those scavengers.  

     At least Agatha and Javier didn’t have to worry about Martin interfering with their marriage and life.  When I got back to Durango I’d send a letter to them informing them of what had happened in a more genteel manner, and also that they needed to decide about the store.  As far as I knew Agatha was the only family that Martin had.  His wife died of the fever a few years back.

     I went back to Star after my work was done.  I wasn’t about to stay there that night, not with the renegades prowling in the vicinity and the sickening reminder of the grave and what had taken place.  I felt like I needed a bath, not only a physical one, but a good spiritual washing as well.  In my job, I had seen a lot of mayhem and evil, and I knew what it was to get dirtied spiritually.  If it wasn’t taken care of it could take a toll on a person’s soul.

     Mounting Star, I rode away not looking back.  We would ride until dark, that would put me just under a day’s ride back to home.  I chuckled, causing Star to look back at me.  I still had some of the food that Molly had packed for me.  It wouldn’t do me any good to go back with excess food as next time she might decide to cut back on the fixings.  

     That night I slept lightly and restlessly.  I didn’t think the renegades would be around, but one never knew.  Their days were numbered, and I could understand their anger at losing their land, whatever that was, and their livelihood.  People have to live, but all need the Lord, whether American or Indian or any other people.  I’d pray that the Lord would send a proper missionary to the Apaches.  One that had a heart of compassion, not of assertion.

     The next day I allowed Star to run when he wanted.  The road was good and we came across only a few freighters and traders.  Besides the ordeal, it was good to get out in God’s great cathedral.  The was the blessed quietness with only the sound of the winds and the thudding of Star’s hooves.  I could see by the sage that rain was coming soon; I hoped we’d get some in Durango.

     Topping the last rise before moving down to the town, I stopped Star.  A quick trip, not satisfying in what I found.  I wished I could have brought Amos back alive, but it wasn’t to be…Providence had a different notion.  Looking down at Durango it was time for me to get back to normal, whatever that was.  I was missing Molly, and hoped that she had the coffee on and maybe a piece of pie in the kitchen.

There was movement in the brush alongside the creek and I had left my rifle in camp.  I reached down to ready my pistol when a tan blur jumped from the bush.  I started to draw my pistol, but it hit me before I could get it out.  Knocking me backward, the pan flying in one direction landing on some rocks making a racket.  But then…that was it.  I looked to see what had happened.  It was a cougar, but I guess he decided that I wasn’t going to be that tasty a meal.  Reckon I surprised him, and he jumped at me then took off up the side of the slope.

     I breathed a deep sigh, then said, “Thank you, Lord!  You have definitely delivered me from the lion.”  It was then I felt a pain in the top of my left arm.  I looked at my shoulder, saw the jacket was ripped and there was a small stream of blood.  A few inches to the right and it could have been my face, or worse, my neck.  To look at the arm better I needed to get back to the fire for better light.  It was then I remembered to find my little pan.

     Picking it up, I thought that maybe it was the sound of that pan hitting the rocks that scared off the lion.  Then I chuckled, who was I kidding?  It was the Lord for sure.  I hadn’t had an encounter with Him for quite a spell.  Of course, I hadn’t been out by myself in the wilderness very often either.  I remembered the times in my life that He appeared at my campsite, giving me comfort and direction.  There was that one time when I found a can of salve left from one of the encounters with him.  I sure wish I had some of that now as my arm was beginning to hurt.

     Arriving back at camp, I fed several small branches into the small fire to build it up.  I pulled off my jacket so I could look at my arm.  There was a slight gash with blood seeping from it.  Nothing serious, in fact my shirt and jacket probably saved it from being much worse.  “Need to be more careful, Miles,” came the voice.  I jumped, looked around.  Nobody was there.  “You know better than to be that careless in the woods…”  

     There was no one there, but the voice, I had definitely heard it.  I smiled, He was there all the time.  “Yes, Lord,” I said in a whisper for some reason.  “I know better, and I’ll be more careful.”  There was no reply.

     I picked up my rifle, and the empty pan as I had forgotten to put water in it, and headed back to the stream.  Several minutes later I had the pan on the fire and water was boiling.  Soon I would have a cup of coffee to get the morning started on a better note than it had been.  But then, I thought, it had started on a good note.  There was the hand of the Lord on me as He protected me.  What could be a better start to the day?  

     As I was sipping on the coffee and waiting for the rest of the chicken to heat, I thought that every day the Lord is with me to start it off.  I just don’t often recognize that He is there.  After eating, I went to the stream to wash as much blood from my jacket as I could.  Molly would be able to mend it when I got home.

     I had a small bait of oats which I gave Star as I saddled him.  When he was ready to go, I let him finish eating while I had a final cup of coffee then put out the fire.  It was time to be on down the road.  I was hoping that today I would catch up with Martin.  I wasn’t hankering to be out too long on this trip.

     Star was moving at an easy lope, and it was moving close to noon when I came over a little rise to be greeted by the sight of buzzards flying overhead.  I stopped to see if I could spot something that they were sighting in on.  I wished I had brought my field glasses, but I didn’t even think about packing them.  I just wasn’t used to being on the trail, and was a little lax.

     I rode Star down the hillside, walking him while I pulled the Greener from my scabbard.  That was one thing I hadn’t forgotten.  I normally travelled with a rifle and the shotgun.  In my line of work, it pays to be well-armed.  There were several large boulders ahead which I saw would be a good place for an ambush.  While I wasn’t expecting one from Martin, I still rode slowly into those rocks.  Renegade Apaches was on my mind.

     To my right I saw a buzzard on the ground coming from between two large boulders.  I halted Star, dismounted and walked toward the bird.  I waved the Greener and he squaked but flew away.   Slowly I crept through the opening.  At first glance I saw where there had been a fire, then to my chagrin I could see the birds feasting on…

It had been a while since I had Star on the trail; it was all I could do to hold him back, he wanted to run so badly.  I would have taken Hawk as he was a better horse when I had to trail somebody simply for this reason.  Star, being partly thoroughbred, wanted to run and I needed to move slowly so I didn’t lose Martin’s tracks.  The last time I had Hawk out he was sort of sluggish, plus he was still recovering from that nasty brand put on him.

     I had thought about going over Wolf Creek for it would save a day on the trail, but this was mid-October and I could get caught in a storm up on the pass.  Mainly I went the way I did because I hoped to catch up to Martin on the trail.  It was nigh on to a week’s travel to Taos, and the ranch was south of the town.  I reckoned that Martin would be in a hurry and the road was fairly well traveled from Farmington on over to Taos with few places that would be feasible to cut off.  He would have to spend two nights camped out, but if I didn’t catch up to him he might stay the night in Dulce.  Between Durango and Dulce there wouldn’t be any hotels, but he might find some generous soul who would put him up for the night.

     With that thought I had to chuckle.  As bigoted as Martin was I doubt he would sleep in the house of a Mexican or an Apache wickiup.  Speaking of Apaches, I was riding into Jicarilla country.  Though mostly peaceful they still had a big mistrust of Americans and it would not be past them to attack a single rider.  I had only dealt with them one other time, but they were like most Indians, peaceful unless riled.  They believed they were people who came from below the earth.  We would call it the underworld.  They had been hit hard by disease, especially consumption, but as of this day they were not confined on a reservation, which made them somewhat more dangerous.

     If Martin had not had any dealings with them, he could be in for a world of hurt.  Some young buck, or a small group, might just decide that he was easy pickings.  With that thought I pulled my rifle from the scabbard, checked the load, and carried it across my saddle.  They might think this lone rider was easy pickings as well.  

     With the decent road, and since I knew where Martin was going, I decided to let Star trot.  He could follow the road whilst I kept my eyes out for anything that might be unseemly.  That night I stopped to make camp just this side of the San Juan River.  The next morning we would cross it, and then head into higher elevation.

     Molly had put together a rather large bag of vittles.  I ate a ham sandwich for lunch, but tonight I will be dining on cold chicken.  I could heat it, but I rather like a cold drumstick, but I did make a fire if for no other reason to make coffee.  Sitting there munching on that chicken and eating biscuits, I thought of the many, many nights I spent like this.  Molly had put in half a chicken so I ate a drumstick and thigh planning on eating the other half for breakfast.  I smiled when I saw that she had put in half a dozen hand pies.  I’d eat one, well, maybe two, tonight and save the others for tomorrow.  I wasn’t worrying about running out of supplies, and Dulce was only two days away.

     Eating the last of my apricot pie and sipping my coffee, I smiled.  This was the life I had been used to, and it was a life that I enjoyed.  The ground would get hard along come morning as I had gotten tame sleeping in a bed with a soft mattress.  I went ahead and put more wood on the fire, and had several pieces I could add to it should I waken during the night.  I knew it would be quite a bit cooler in the morning.  “Lord,” I whispered, not really knowing why since I was the only one there, “I sure do want to thank you for findin’ this ol’ broken down cowboy those many years ago.”  I chuckled to myself.  “We’ve been through some times, ain’t we.  Thanks for seein’ me through them, and helpin’ me along the way.”

     It was sometime early morning that I woke up.  I didn’t move, but laid there and listened.  There was a slight breeze and I could hear it moving through the tops of the trees.  The night was clear with thousands of stars appearing, but there was something.  Star snorted, then tramped his hooves, that’s when I moved quickly to the shadows near him.   I stood motionless near Star and he calmed down with my presence.  It could have been some varmint, wolf, even a bear or lion…it could have been an Apache as well.  I stayed with Star for maybe half an hour before going back to my bedroll.  Since I was awake, I decided to go ahead and stay up.  

     Picking up the pan that I made coffee in I went down to the stream to rinse it out and fill it with water.  After rinsing it I filled it with that cool mountain water and took a long drink.  While it was at my mouth, there was noise in the brush across the stream and to my right.  Dummy me, I left the rifle in camp.  Then…