–Luke 2:7 (HCSB)
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     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…

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

     What a Thanksgiving it was.  If Nick Parsons hadn’t come with Thompson’s steer there wouldn’t have been enough food.  It seemed like two-thirds of the town showed up plus all of the out-of-work miners.  Thompson even allowed his crew to come in save a few that had to be at the ranch.  It also caught my attention that several teamsters happened to find themselves in town for the festivities.

     Father Cisneros jumped right in to help with Parson Chapman and his wife.  Not all of the beef provided by Thompson and Winfield was made into stew.  The ladies decided to offer steaks at a price.  The stew was free, but other menu items could be purchased.  What was made off that would be split between the Father’s parish and the Parson’s church.

     Parsons along with Reese Donovan, Thompson’ cook, worked long and hard cooking up the beef.  It seemed that the people of Durango were truly thankful this November.  There had been some hard times, and to look on the face of some of those miners, well, they needed help.  I understood that the mines couldn’t keep them with the winter hours, but the men were desperately hungry.  Part of it was due to their indiscretion in spending their hard earned wages, but that doesn’t mean we give them a kick while they’re down and hurting.  At least these men didn’t have families with them.

     I was pleased to see the Peabodys working with the crew.  Lois went right into the kitchen and began to help Emelda while Marshall made sure a pot of stew was ready to put on the stove when the big pot was getting empty.  He did his time cutting up onions, carrots, cabbage, and potatoes.

     The town council helped us out by ordering all of the saloons closed for the day.  That way the four of us lawmen didn’t have to worry too much about drunks.  There were a couple of rowdies that Mateo had to thump that started a ruckus because of the closures.  Because of the closures of those establishments, there were added a number of people of ill repute that gained the attention of the Parson.  See, one of the requirements for the free dinner was to listen to the Parson preach.  Now, he doesn’t get all eloquent, but preaches a solid salvation message in ten minutes.  ‘Course he does it about every two hours.

     It was just before we shut down the feeding that Joe Dixon approached Molly and Marta.  I saw Molly wipe something from her eye as Joe left.  He owns a poultry farm outside of town.  Walking over to me, she was still dabbing at her eye.  “Joe said that he’s preparing a turkey for all of us,” she told me.  “He’s going to bring it by tomorrow when we close the diner.”

     “Turkey!” I almost shouted, then looked around to see if anyone heard my exuberance.  

     She nodded.  “He’s adding some turkeys to keep along with the chickens and he wanted to share his blessings with us.”

     Maybe I shouldn’t have been thinking so hard about the fixin’s and the festivities and the fun.  Maybe I shouldn’t have had my mind on a turkey dinner.  Maybe, just maybe then I wouldn’t have gotten myself in the fix I was in.  The snow had started falling and I was moving down next to the park from the office to the diner when, if maybe I had been more aware…

Amen!  Blessing and glory and wisdom, thanksgiving and honor and power and might, be to our God forever and ever.  Amen.”  –Revelation 7:12(NKJV)

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     When I arrived at the depot, I saw Charlie behind some barrels just off the platform across from the baggage car.  There was a man and from what I could tell, a railroad worker lying on the ground in front of the car.  Steam was flowing from the engine causing me to grin.  Smart man, that engineer.  When the shooting started, he cut off the engine then he and the fireman hightailed it out of the area.

     I ran to where Charlie was watching.  “What’s the scoop?”

     “Robbery.  From what I can tell there are at least three men inside the….”  Shots were fired from the other side of the train interrupting his information.  We looked at each other, then came a shrill whistle.  “Mateo,” we said at the same time.

     He began where he left off.  “At least three men inside.  I’m not sure if there is another baggage man inside or not.  They shot one throwing him on the ground,” he pointed to the man with his gun.

     “Have they said anything?  Made any demands?”  Then came the shot from inside the car.  I didn’t like the sound of that; it could mean that they shot the other worker.  “Let me move over to your left.  Mateo has the other side covered.  Do you want to handle this, Sheriff?”

     Giving me a wry smile, “We’ll play it by ear.  When you get in position, I’ll move up to the train.”

     I scrambled away moving behind some crates twenty feet from where Charlie was situated.  I hollered, “You, in the train!  This is your only chance to surrender!  Throw out your guns and come out!”

     There was no reply, then the side door began to open.  Upon the sound I lifted the Greener in position to fire.  I was hoping that they would throw down their guns.  A hand appeared, holding a gun.  There was a quick shot at nothing in particular, then a face emerged.  I fired, blood spewed followed by a thump.  The door quickly closed.  When I fired Charlie ran to the train.

     Being in that baggage car they had no windows.  They didn’t know how many men were outside the car, or that Mateo had taken the men holding their horses.  I yelled again, “I’ll give you one more chance!  Throw out your weapons and come out!”

     “We’re coming!” came a voice from the car.

     Charlie leaned down under the car.  “Mateo, go to the rear, I have a feeling.”

     Moving from my position I ran to the side of the baggage car, that way I could cover the door or the sliding door.  They were coming out the door between where Charlie and I stood.  Two men, holding their guns up.  I didn’t like it.

     “Drop them!” ordered Charlie.

     A shot to my left splintered the frame, I turned to fire and at the same time I heard another shot.  The man who fired at me crumpled to the ground.  Then chaos broke out with the two men firing at where Charlie was standing.  He was safe, behind the passenger car, but dared not show himself.  We waited, they would soon empty their guns and had nowhere to run.

     Then a shot came from inside.  When that happened there was a lull.  Charlie and I both moved to the opening between the cars.  He fired at the men and I cut loose with the other barrel, then drew my pistol.  Suddenly it was quiet and it was almost haunting after all the noise.

     “Coming out!” hollered Mateo.  He had gone in through the door where the other thief had come out.  “Worker inside, shot and in a bad way,” he informed us as Charlie went up the steps to check on the men that we shot.  I went to the downed worker lying on the ground by the train.  He was bleeding and unconscious, but still alive.

     Doc Jones had left the diner right behind us, went to his office to get his bag and was now on the scene.  I waved at him to come check on this man.  “There’s another  one inside the car,” I informed him, then moved to check on the man that Mateo and I shot.

 

     Two hours later, Charlie, Doc, and I were sitting back in the diner.  Mateo had decided to go to see Luciana to let her know he was all right.  “Terrible, just terrible,” muttered Doc after taking a swallow of coffee.  “There was just no sense in them not surrendering.”

     “Desperate men do strange things, Doc,” remarked Charlie.  “They should have surrendered,” he paused, shaking his head.  “One of them would have been tried for the murder of the clerk inside the car, though.”

     “Four dead criminals, one railroad worker,” murmured Doc.  “At least one will pull through.  He was shot just over the hip, the bullet went straight through.  No vitals were hit.”

     “Shame this had to happen just before Thanksgiving,” said Charlie.

     “Killin’ is always a shame,” I stated matter of factly.  Then looking from one man to the other.  “But we can be thankful that we’re here and that Mateo is fine.”

     We were sitting at the table, quietly thinking of the morning, when Nick Parsons walked through the entrance…

Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”  — 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 (NIV)

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     Charlie had found no paperwork regarding a will or his daughter.  Mostly it was ledgers concerning the store, invoices, statements, and other such things.  There was a picture of his wife and Agatha taken some time before the mother had died.  For the life of me, I can’t remember her name.  I didn’t know them well when the epidemic swept through. 

     He pronounced that the Peabodys could move in.  And with their few possessions it wouldn’t take them long.  They didn’t need furniture since Martin’s was already in the apartment.  As soon as they could start working and making money they would be able to feed themselves on a better diet than just beans, then warmed up beans and if they were fortunate, eggs from the widows.

     Marshall Peabody was a little concerned about doing his community chores.  Lucas said he would cut wood for the widows and Darnelle and Mateo said that Alejo was old enough to do most of the other work.  He wasn’t a carpenter, but he could repair things such as chicken coops, chop wood, clean up around the town so that was a relief to Marshall.

     The very next day, I went by to find the store open.  Lois was dusting off the shelves and items on the shelves.  Marshall was doing inventory and acquainting himself with the products.  When I came in he laughed, “First time I’ll be able to come home from work looking half human.”

     The miners up in Silverton that worked in the larger mines made a decent salary, but much of it went to pay rent for the company houses.  Those that didn’t waste their money on booze had to pay exorbitant prices for food.  It was really much like the sharecropping system–go broke, stay broke, die broke.

     Lois ran over to me to give a large hug.  With tears in her eyes, she just repeated, “Thank you,” over and over.  Standing back and wiping the tears away, she said, “That nice young girl, Miss Foster, said she would come by and show us how to set up ledgers and order.  Then after we’d been working a month or so, she come by to see how things we going and help organize better.”

     “Darnelle is a good girl,” I replied.  “I don’t know much about storekeepin’, but Molly and I’ll help in any way we can.”

     As I left the store, the thought struck me.  “Darnelle isn’t a girl any longer.  In fact, she is in her upper twenties.  I just don’t figure how some guy hasn’t swept her up and married her.”  Then I laughed as I walked getting strange looks from a couple of people on the street.  “Course Darnelle might have a say in the matter.”

     Entering the diner, I saw Mateo sitting with Doc.  Mateo doesn’t come by to make himself at home like Charlie and Doc does.  He is friendly, but stays busy working the streets.  In fact, it’s hard to find him in the office sitting down doing the paperwork that comes with the job.

     I grabbed a cup and filled it before sitting.  Molly was in the kitchen having a meeting with Marta and Emelda while Lola was wiping down tables.  Doc started right up with the conversation.  “Heard that we’re having beef this year for Thanksgiving.  I don’t know why you don’t go out and get a few turkeys.”

     “Nothin’ from Grizz?” I asked.  Grizz usually showed up around this time with elk and venison for the dinner, but we hadn’t heard a word from him this year.

     Mateo was shaking his head.  “Lots can happen traveling alone, especially in those mountains.”

     Both Doc and I nodded our heads, then I began to drink my coffee.  “Molly was telling us that Cecil Thompson and Bert Winfield would supply the diner with beef for the dinner.  Emelda’s eyes lit up when she heard; she wants to make menudo and barbacoa.”

     “Cecil said that he’d sent his cook, Reese Donovan over to bbq the steer along with a couple of cowboys to help him,” Doc informed me.  “He further stated that he might send his whole crew into town for the feast.  That along with the miners and townsfolk that come by could mean quite a crowd.”

     I smiled, finished my coffee, then pointed with cup in my hand at Mateo.  “Our illustrious marshal should be able to handle them readily enough.”

     “I thought I heard you in here,” came the voice of Molly walking towards me with a piece of pumpkin pie in her hand.  “Figured you might want a taste.”

     Just as I was ready to take a bite, there was the sound of gunfire across town.  Mateo glanced at me, then took off towards the sound.  I thrust a large piece of pie in my mouth and followed after him with Doc on my coattail.

     Lola came to Molly.  “What could have that been?”