Things seemed to have settled down since Miles arrived back in Durango from his little fiasco up near Taos.  There was still the matter of a man on the loose with one of Miles’ bullets in him, and Amos Martin yet to be confronted, but other than that Durango was calm.  But one never knew in the heyday of the West when a storm might blow in either natural or in the form of evil.  Let’s look in on Miles this week and see if anything of interest is happening for one never knew in those exciting days of yesteryear what might come their way.

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

     Mateo stepped through the doorway.  Normally he didn’t stop unless it was to wave or grab a quick cup of coffee on a cold day, but he started to walk my direction.  One scarcely would notice the slight limp he had from taking a bullet a few years back.  It surely didn’t keep him from doing his duty.  The town was really blessed to have a man of his stature and integrity as marshal.

     He nodded at folks in the diner as he approached the table.  “Mateo, come sit down with us,” greeted Molly.  

     “Gracias, Molly,” he said, finally getting used to calling us by our given names.

     “What can I get you?  A piece of pie?” inquired Molly with a smile.

     Mateo returned the smile, but with a shake of his head.

     She looked at him, still smiling.  “Sure?  I have chocolate and Miles will pour you a cup of coffee to go with it.”

     He ducked his head, seemingly embarrassed, then acquiesced,  “Okay, a small piece, that is, if it’s not too much trouble.”

     Looking over at me she remarked, “And I suppose you want a piece as well.”  It was not a question, but I wasn’t going to turn down a piece of pie, so I nodded in the affirmative.

     I helped Molly from her chair, she went towards the kitchen and I grabbed a cup from the shelf to pour Mateo a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove near me.  Handing him the cup, he replied with a quiet, “Gracias”.

     He was sipping on his coffee when Molly returned with the pie, then gave me a nod with her head.  I reckoned that meant she wanted a refill for her cup so I immediately went forward to the task.

     We were enjoying the pie, coffee, and company though a word hadn’t been said.  I thought I’d see if there was anything on Mateo’s mind.  “So, what made you decide to stop by today?  Any special occasion?”

     He placed his fork in the plate, took one more sip, then set the cup down.  Looking first at Molly, who started to show concern on her face, then turned his attention to me.  He then glanced around before quietly speaking.  “It’s Luciana.  She wants me to quit this job…”

     The countenance on Molly’s face now showed real concern, but it was not from Mateo and his job, it was concern over the welfare of friends.  “I assume she told you why,” uttered Molly.

     “Si, she say it is too dangerous.”

     “It’s because of what happened to Alejo, isn’t it?” I questioned.

     “Si, but there has been talk…families in the barrio talk, they are afraid.  And, and Father Damian has had notes left on the church door, and blood smeared on the walls with the remains of dead cats and dogs left on the threshold.”  

     I could feel my jaws begin to tighten.  “Martin?”

     “I don’t know.  I have tried to investigate, but I don’t get nowhere.  They are pretty sly.  They don’t advertise when they are going to strike, and the people, some of them think that they will become targets.  I have talked to Sheriff Gold, but he has had no luck either.”

     Molly placed her hand on Mateo’s arm.  “Mateo, I think every lawman and their family go through events like this.  It is a way for them to make a decision on which direction to go.  I will admit, I used to worry about Miles when he was out.”

     “You don’t anymore?” he looked at her in surprise, then over to me. 

     Squeezing his arm, she continued.  “I have more of a concern, but no longer worry.  I had to give him over to the Lord many years ago or I would have gone crazy.  We’ve had our share of trials and scoundrels trying to use me to get to him,” she paused, gave a little shrug.  “It is something that you and Luciana will have to work out.”

     “Mateo, you’re a good lawman,” I interjected.  “What would you do for a livin’, farm?”

     “Senor Miles, I could farm, my father raised the melons, I could do it also,” he spoke in defense, but then added, “but I hate farming.”

     I had to chuckle.  Standing, I asked, “Do you mind if I talk with Father Damian?  Maybe I could see something from a different perspective.”  Then I glanced at Molly.  “Perhaps it is time for me to have a heart-to-heart with Amos Martin.”

     Mateo stood up next to me and it was the first time I noticed that he was taller than me.  A slender, wiry man, who stood and looked like the lawman that he was.  It would be a shame for the town to lose him.  “Mind if I walk with you?” he asked and we strode toward the door…

Anything else you can tell me about the man?” I asked, hoping that the livery man might be more amiable since the marshal had left.

     He shook his head.  “Like I said, I don’t pay much attention to those who come and go.”

     “Do you remember if he was shot?”

     “Marshal, from my recollection, no person came into the livery bleeding.  I would have noticed that, but again, I don’t pay much attention.”

     I gave him a little wave indicating that he could go back to his work, whatever that might be.  There were three hotels in town and I could check their registers, or if it was my man he might be seeking a doctor.  I started back up the street to find something for supper thinking about that marshal.  He sure didn’t make the town feel like home.  “Lyles Hampton,” I muttered on my walk.  The name sounded familiar.  I would go ahead and eat, then maybe check the other hotels.  The man was carrying my bullet, maybe that would be a persuader to quit his evil ways and get on the straight and narrow.

     Shots were fired a distance away.  I took a couple of quick steps towards the sound, but caught myself–old habits die hard.  Not my town, and I wasn’t going to make it my jurisdiction.  Now, I told myself as I stepped upon the boardwalk leading into a cocina, that doesn’t mean if I don’t see a wrong being committed I wouldn’t step in, we all have that responsibility, but I wouldn’t interfere with the town marshal.  Hampton, I shook my head.

 

     I made that cocina my place to eat while I was in Taos trying different things that I could tell Molly when I got home.  They had good food, not any better than Emelda’s, but they had one thing they called a chili relleno that caught my fancy.  Three days later I was back in Durango.  I’d wait a couple of days before confronting Martin.  Maybe he would make a slip and give himself away.  I was not worrying for by now Agatha and Javier would be settled in.

     It was good to be home.  Charlie was out investigating some cattle rustling.  Seemed a small herd headed for Telluride had been stolen.  That meant no fresh meat for the people and miners there, but also some small rancher was out of his money.  That was the nice thing about sheriffing–helping others.  Not that I didn’t think I did as a U.S. Marshal, it was just different for often I did not see those against whom the crime was committed, I just went after the miscreants.

     Molly had baked me a butterscotch pie when I returned and I was sitting at my regular spot in the diner, by the stove as it was still cool in the mornings.  The coffee was always there, and I was enjoying the company with my wife.  Doc Jones was up the canyon delivering a baby.  So we were sitting alone.  Maybe after I finished my pie, I’d go up and see Mateo and Lucas at the jail.

     “What’s wrong, Miles?” The question caught me off guard.  “You were just staring off into space looking over the rim of your cup.”

     I took a quick sip, I hadn’t realized what I was doing.  “Nothin’, at least nothin’ that I know of.”

     “You were off somewhere’s, I was just wondering,” remarked Molly.

     Honestly I couldn’t remember what I had been thinking about, so I gave her a blank stare telling her so.  I scratched my head, then pulled at my moustache after which I got up to get a refill.  Grabbing the pot I made a motion if Molly wanted her cup warmed up, then I filled mine.

     Upon taking my place at the table again, I told her that nothing was going through my head, I was just staring.  For that I received a smirk.  “There is one thing, however,” I started, “I met the marshal in Taos, and his name keeps going through my mind like I should know it.  I know I have never met the man before, but still…”

     A couple of customers came in and Lola, Marta’s niece, went over to wait on them.  With the baby, Marta hadn’t been working as much and Lola was doing a good job.  She had a great demeanor about her, and was always friendly with the customers.

     “Molly, have you ever seen the ruins?” I asked abruptly.  The thought came out of nowhere, and before she could answer I added, “We could take a week, pack up and I could take you to see them.  Two-Bits needs some work, I don’t know the last time she’s seen a saddle.”

     She gave me a look.  “What brought that on?”

     I took a deep sip, “I don’t know, it just hit me.  We haven’t been anyplace in a while.  I don’t care to take you up to Silverton, and I know you don’t like Denver, so we could go out to the ruins.  It’s not too hot yet, and the streams should have plenty of water.”

     “Plus, I need some time alone, in God’s great cathedral to think and ponder, and want you with me.  Time is passin’ us by and we need to see some things together before we get too old to sit in the saddle.”

     That brought a chuckle.  “You mean before I get too old to ride.”

     I didn’t mean that at all, but decided that I should now take another bite of pie.  “Let’s plan on leaving next week, I do want to see Amos Martin.  The man who died had a name on his lips as he was dyin’ that sounded like Martin.  I want to confront him with it.”

     “I don’t know why he, or anyone else is like that,” uttered Molly.

     I shook my head in answer, then Mateo stepped through the doorway…

Miles was waiting in Taos for the train to return to Durango.  He had taken a room in the hotel and had decided to take a walk before supper to get the lay of the town.  He was in the process of talking with a not too helpful or joyful hostler at the livery.  Join with me and let’s see what happens in the life of Miles Forrest.

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

     “Get on out of here, O’Shannasy!” ordered a rough voice from in back of me.  I started to turn noticing that the hostler only took a couple of steps back and was leaning forward.  After I completed my turn the man spoke to men.  “I don’t like strangers asking questions in my town, nor riling up the citizens.  You have no right…”

     That’s when I cut him off.  “On the contrary,” I said, looking at his badge.  

     A grim look came on his face with his eyes going past me to the hostler.  “O’Shannasy, I told you to git!”

     Without looking at the hostler, I countered that order, “No stay, I want to talk with you!”

     “Mister, you better shut your mouth, or…”

     I noticed his hand on the grip of his gun.  “Or what, Marshal?  Can’t a man talk with a citizen of your town?” I asked, emphasizing “your”.

     The marshal seemed to control his anger then asked.  “Who do you think you are coming in here like this?”

     Calmly I responded, “Deputy United States Marshal Miles Forrest, and this man might have some information regarding a man who attempted to murder people on the train.”

     The marshal snorted, then snapped, “You have no jurisdiction here!”

     Giving him one of my best smiles, I replied, “This badge is my jurisdiction.”

     The man either had a bee in his bonnet or an unsightly rash somewhere unseen.  “I think you need to come with me,” he snarled and started to pull his pistol.

     I poked him, not too gentle, in the gut with the barrel of the Greener causing him to gasp and grab his stomach.  I didn’t want to hit the town marshal, but it was tempting.  Instead I lifted the Greener up cocking it.  “Now, Marshal, why don’t you get along with your business, and let me tend to mine,” I said, then added.  “I don’t care much for folk to interfere with my investigations.” 

     He stared at the barrel of the shotgun; it does have the tendency to gather one’s attention.  His eyes went up to mine, then over to the hostler.  His hand was still on his stomach as he straightened.  “This isn’t over,” he muttered.

     “It is for now!”

     Trying to pull some dignity to his being he removed his hand and with a huff walked away.  I didn’t pay him any more mind and turned to the man before me.  “Mr. O’Shannasay, you heard what I said.  I just want to follow up regarding the train holdup.  One man was wounded and rode away.  All I want to do is talk with him, see if he could be the man from the train.”

     He shook his head while shrugging his shoulders.  “Don’t rightly know.  I didn’t pay much attention.  He gave me a dollar for the stall and feed.  I couldn’t tell if he was shot or not, I didn’t see any blood.”

     “Did he give a name?”

     Shaking his head, “Nope, all he said was ‘take care of my horse’ an’ handed me the coin.”

     I nodded at him.  “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”  I turned, took two steps, then looked back at him.  “That marshal, he have a name?”

     “That’s Marshal Lyles Hampton,” he said, emphasizing the “marshal.”

     Cocking my head to the side, I pulled on my moustache, thinking.  For some reason that name sounded familiar.  Lyles Hampton…

The train had an hour lay-over in Taos, so I spent the time with the young couple and the Chapmans.  Javier and Agatha seemed relieved to be in Taos after the attack.  They were both smiling, and indeed, it was a time to smile.  Newlyweds, starting out on the adventure of life together.  They had a rugged start and it was a shame that Agatha’s father had such a burr under his saddle.  I asked Javier about his parents and he told me that they both died a few years back when the epidemic struck Durango.  Since then he had hired out to some of the ranchers.  It was Bert Winfield who recommended the Lazy J outside of Taos and had sent a letter of recommendation to Juan Pablo Miranda.  

     One thing I did know; the Lazy J was not a lazy outfit.  Juan Pablo shipped some of the best beef out of New Mexico, and raised some fine quarter horses.  I met the old vaquero when I had some dealing in Santa Fe.  He was a fine gentleman, but there was steel in his eyes.  He could smile and laugh, but there was also a firmness to his jaw that when it was set there was a rigidedness that would not be changed.  Yes, he would be a fine mentor for Javier.  And similar to King, down Texas way, he allowed families to live and thus thrive on his ranch.  I found out that Agatha would be teaching in the little school on the ranch.

     The Parson and Betty said that they would miss only this coming Sunday.  It was the first break they had taken since coming to Durango.  Some people have the notion that all preachers do is spout out a sermon on Sunday.  They forget about the preparation, and if he’s a good pastor, the praying.  Then there is the visitation–visiting the sick, the old, the decrepit, and the heathen.

     I stayed until the train pulled out then started off towards the center of town.  Taos is an old town, dating back to the late 1700s, but the old pueblo probably dates back another five hundred or so years.  It is inhabited primarily by descendants of the Taos and Pueblo Indians, with some Mexicans thrown in.  The new town is not far south and that’s where I found myself looking for a place to stay.  With the railroad coming through the town was doing an up-and-coming business and there were three hotels to choose from.  My eyes wandered down the street, and finally I settled on a place:  La Elegancia.  Why?  I just like the sound of the name.

     The lobby was clean, and moderate in size.  There were three floors in the building and I requested a room on the bottom floor.  The clerk gave a wide smile that showed off a mouth of teeth.  “Wise choice, Senor.  Et is not quite so hot.”  I paid him for two nights which came to $2.50.  I thought it a mite high, but then again the railroad helped inflate the prices.  I chuckled to myself of the times I heard regarding prices in the mining towns–prices higher, gold town you know.

     Turning to go to my room, the clerk spoke up.  “Senor, if the noise is loud above you, please come see me.”  I nodded and touched the brim of my hat with the barrel of the Greener.

     Entering the room I fell down across the bed.  Ahhh, it was worth the price.  I decided to wash up, then go find something to eat.  I wanted to see if the enchiladas here were as good as those made by Emelda or Adela.  After brushing myself off, I set the Greener in the corner near the bed.  I didn’t think I’d need it in Taos, after all I wasn’t after anybody here.  As I was shutting the door and preparing to lock it, I straightened up, opened the door and reached for the shotgun.  I had grown so used to carrying it with me, I felt that I was going out alone, almost naked into the world.

     I asked the clerk where was the best place to eat.  He shrugged his shoulders, mentioned a few places, then said that the cocina in the hotel was muy bueno.  I nodded my thanks and walked out.  Standing there, looking out to the west, the sun was a bright ball, beginning to lower itself into the earth.  Looking up and down the streets, a thought came to my mind to go to the livery.

    “Viejo,” I said, moving to a man sitting on the bench in front of the hotel.  “Can you tell me where the livery is?”

     “Si,” came his quiet reply.

     “No, the livery.”

     “Si.”

     I sighed.  “Gracias,” I said moving away, then I heard the voice coming from the old man in good English with a slight accent.  “Senor, there is a livery at each end of the street.”

     Turning I took a step toward him.  Then I smiled, “Si,” turned and started walking toward one end.

     As I walked, I brought the Greener up, for no apparent reason except to check it as I walked.  In a few minutes I spied the livery, not from the sign, but because there was a corral outside with several horses in it.  There was a little man who I took to be a hostler.  He didn’t look brawny enough to lift a hammer nor to shoe a horse.

     “You looken for a horse, Mister?” inquired the man with quite a brogue.  One that certainly didn’t fit in with the rest of Taos.

     Looking at the corral, then to the man, pulling on my moustache.  “Not really a horse, but perhaps a man.  Someone who rode in sometime in the past three hours, perhaps hurt.”

     The man smiled, then it vanished as quickly as it appeared.  “Not my habit to inquire ’bout customers,” he said, then spat to the side on the ground as if for emphasis.

     “I’ve just an inquisitive nature,” I remarked, staring at the man.  “Maybe it’s my job, Deputy U.S. Marshal.”

     He gave that quick smile again, which I believed now was just a nervous habit.

     “Ah, Marshal, perhaps…”