Miles was escorting the prisoner, Ben Hendricks, to the penitentiary in Canon City while the Chapmans were with the newly wedded, Ballesteros.  As the train was filling up with water, there was an attack.  Marshal Forrest had shot the two men who attacked, but his prisoner had been severely wounded by glass which was broken by a shot from one of the assailants.  Join with me with another exciting tale from those days of yore.

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       I had bent over Hendricks who was bleeding profusely from his neck.  In his last gasp of breath on this earth, he muttered something.  If I willed strong enough, I thought I heard “Martin.”  

       “Did you hear what he said?” I asked turning to look at the conductor.

       Shaking his head, “I heard him mutter something, a name perhaps, but I couldn’t make it out.”

       “Was it Martin?”

       He shook his head again.  “I couldn’t say for sure.  Far as I know he was asking for ‘water.'”

       I stood up to stare at him.  I knew he was right, but I wanted so much for it to be “Martin.”  Turning I glanced out the broken window and found that I could see the man I shot by the tower.

       “Marshal, I’ve got to settle these people down.  I’ve got to get this train rolling.”

       I nodded, “You do your work here, the preacher’ll help you.  I need to check on that man I shot outside.”

       “Well, don’t be long.  We’re behind as it is now.”

       Leaving him, I went out the door closest to me and hurried on over to where I saw the man fall.  There was blood, but the man was gone.  One of the workers was nearby, so I accosted him.  “Did you see a man fall from that tower?”

       He looked briefly at me, then towards the water tower for a few seconds.  Taking a couple of steps towards me, he uttered, “There was a man lying there on the ground, but he’s gone now.”

       “Brilliant,” I thought to myself.  “Did you see where he went?”

       “No,” came his quick reply, “but he did stumble off to the back of the shack then rode off on a horse, but I didn’t see where he went, he just rode off.”

       I put my hand to my face and wiped it down my chin.  Where did they get this guy?  “What direction?”

       “That way I think,” he muttered, but didn’t point.  “I wasn’t watching him, my attention was turned to all that commotion in the car.  What in blazes happened?”

       Without bothering to answer, I went to the other entrance to the car and entered.  Folks were in their seats, and I knew they were ready to be on their way.  A few looked at the body laying in the aisle.  I looked at Javier and Agatha.  “Recognize him?” I inquired.  They both shook their heads.  “Parson, help me drag this body outside.”

       The conductor followed us out, then questioned, “Do you want to put him in the baggage car?”

       I pulled on my moustache for a few moments, then found the worker nearby.  I beckoned him over.  “Think you could bury this man?  I’ll give you a couple of dollars.”

       His eyes widened, “for sure,” he replied reaching out his hand.  

       Reaching in my vest pocket to the little pouch I carried, I pulled out two silver dollars.  “I’ll be back in a day or so.  I better find a grave with a marker.”

       “What’s his name?”

       “Just put on it the date and John Doe,” I told him.  I glanced at the preacher.  “Shame to bury a man an’ don’t know his name.”  He gave a big sigh.  

       The conductor had joined us, and Rev. Chapman inquired, “What about Hendricks?”

       I looked at the conductor and asked, “Would it be all right to place him on the platform outside the car.  We’re almost to Taos, and I’ll take him to the undertaker there.  I want to inform the sheriff, and then fill out the paperwork.”

       Within a few minutes the steam was up and we were ready to be on our way.  The conductor told me that the train from Taos back to Durango would be in two days.  There could be a worse town than Taos to stay for a couple of days.  There might not be any apple pie, but I reckoned I could find myself something good to eat. 

       I placed my hand on Javier’s shoulder as I went by.  “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” I said casually, then thought of something and asked.  “Did either of you say to Agatha’s father where you would be working?”

       They looked at each other, eyes searching, then Javier brought his attention back to me giving me a shrug.

       I nodded, saying, “I hope not…”

We were getting close to Taos where Javier and Agatha would be getting off.  He said that he had a job riding for Alonso Ortega just south of Taos.  I didn’t know Ortega personally but I knew of his outfit and his brand.  He raised quality beef and was good to his men.  A little different from other cattlemen of the time; up towards the mountains he also raised a number of sheep.  It would be a good start for Javier and his new wife.  The shame of it was the thoughts of her father that she must carry with her.  Hopefully Javier would make up for them.  I was glad that the Chapmans were with them.  He told me they were going on down to Santa Fe for a little preaching at a tent meeting and would vacation at the same time.  He’d need prayer, New Mexico is tough on preachers.

     I wasn’t sure of how many more stops we had to make.  One, two, for sure water would be needed.  Folks that had boarded the train tended to sit away from us once they saw that I had a prisoner who was handcuffed.  That was fine with me.  Too much conversation is not good.  I would have liked to get a little more from Hendricks; I would have liked for him to tell me who the third man was and that Martin was behind it all, but he was a loyal man, very close-lipped.

     Now that’s a good quality at the right time and for the right reason.  Why, our Lord was fairly tight with his words the night He was arrested, but with good reason.  Others show allegiance by riding for the brand, but this time the brand was on the wrong side of the law, not only the written law, but moral law as well.  Most of the time, they blab about how they’re going to escape and get me, or how they were framed.  They would whine about this and moan about that and whimper that life wasn’t fair.  Hey, live on the dark side of the law and it’s a rough life.

     The whistle screamed and I could feel the train slowing.  There was a water stop ahead.  I dared not let down my guard, I had learned that much from experience.  In fact, I had a notion to move across the aisle from Hendricks and bring the Greener to my lap.  I don’t necessarily think it was a sixth sense, though some would say so, but I think things that come to my mind are actually from the Holy Ghost.  We take things in life far too often for granted, and I knew from life that we need to listen to those inner promptings.

     My eyes danced from the window on my side then to the window near Hendricks.  I also watched anyone suspicious in the car.  Nothing, and that caused me to smile.  The whistle blew, and we would momentarily be on the way.  I started to place the Greener next to the side when there was a blast of a rifle and a bullet shattered the window next to Hendricks.  I heard him groan.  I saw a man next to the tank take aim; I thrust the shotgun through the broken window while leaning over Hendricks and fired.  It was a distance, but I saw that I hit the man causing him to slump down falling from his perch.  

     The door in the front of the car burst open, catching me by surprise.  I was only expecting one other man.  Dropping the Greener I pulled my pistol.  The man was brazen.  He should have fired when he entered, but instead walked up to the couple.  He didn’t even glance my way, I reckoned he thought that his pardner had shot me; it didn’t seem they were interested in Hendricks at all.  

     I’ll give it to the Parson.  He waited until the villain was right up against the seat.  When the man raised his gun, a large sneer appeared on his face, Parson Chapman leaped into him, knocking him away, the gun discharging into the ceiling of the car.  That gave me time to move forward, and I prayed that the Parson would fall to the floor.  I shot.  The bullet hit the man below the ribs.  He grimaced then looking my way brought his gun to bear on me.  I was not one to waste time, I fired twice again, both bullets striking the man knocking him back on the poor dear lady in the seat behind.  She shrieked, trying to push him off her.  

     By this time, the preacher was up trying to help as was Javier.  I looked around, making sure that there was no one else.  “Dale!  Shut that door and stand in front of it!”  He was busy aiding the dear lady, so Javier jumped to the job.  The engineer must have heard the shots because the train had not moved.  As I reloaded my pistol I waited for the conductor, then glanced at Hendricks.  He was bleeding terribly.  I saw a large shard of glass embedded in his face, and I couldn’t tell if he was alive or not.  I wanted to make sure no one else was coming to his aid, or his demise before checking on him.

     When the conductor showed up, he was wide-eyed.  “Stand here,” I ordered, “but come closer.  If he says anything I want you to hear.”  I bent over picking up my Greener to hand to the conductor.  Hendricks opened his eyes, he was bleeding severely.  As he turned his head, I could see another piece of glass in his neck.  His eyes became glassy…

Miles found Amos Martin lying on the floor in his hardware store.  Things weren’t adding up in Mile’s mind regarding the recent attacks, and now the main antagonist was on the floor, maybe dead.  Miles was to take Ben Hendricks to the penitentiary later in the morning, but now, now there was a body in front of him.  There was still an unknown assailant on the run.  Could he have been the man to do this to Martin?  If so, for what reason?  Miles had reason to believe that it was Martin that hired Frank Moser, Ben Henricks and the unknown man.  Join with me now in another thrilling episode from yesteryear.

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       Amos Martin’s head was lying in a small pool of blood.  I didn’t want to move him in case his skull was cracked open or his neck broken, but I thought he was alive.  Quickly I jumped up running to the front door.  Unlocking it, I flung it open hoping to find someone close by.  Providence was with me for Herb McKnutt was passing by.  I hailed him, then sent him scurrying for Doc Jones.  Shutting the door I went back inside.  I checked my watch and saw that I still had two hours before I had to board the train.

       It took about ten minutes for Doc to arrive at the store.  Immediately upon entering the store I waved him over to where Martin was laying.  Upon seeing the blood, he exclaimed a quiet, “Oh my!  Move aside, Miles.”

       I watched as he carefully touched the side of his neck, then put his head down close to Martin.  “Well, he’s alive.  You did right by not moving him; his neck might be broken and I can’t tell about his skull until I can move him.”  He rubbed his chin a couple of times, while looking around the room.  “Miles, you go get four men while I scrounge around for something on which to carry him.”

       He got up and started going through the store.  I hastened on out the door and into the street looking for volunteers.  McKnutt was still there, so I volunteered him, then saw some men standing on the boardwalk sort of looking on.  One I recognized, Ben Romero.  “Ben!” I hollered, bring those two men with you and get on down here.  Doc Jones needs your help!”  Most people in the city hurried when Doc needed help for many of them had been on the other end of Doc’s ministrations.

       They followed me into the store and went over to where Doc had found a door that would be used as a stretcher.  Looking down I saw that he had secured Martin’s head with a couple of bolts of cloth.  Ben stopped short when he saw that it was Amos Martin.

       “Why should I help with the likes of him?” snapped Ben.  “Isn’t he the one who tried to stop the marriage between Javier and Agatha?”

       “Why should you help?” I repeated his question with sharpness.  “Because it’s the right thing to do!”

       Doc was shaking his head.  There wasn’t room for four men to get behind the counter.  He was rubbing his chin again.  “It can’t be helped,” he said to no one in particular.  “I just pray that it doesn’t kill him.  Miles, you get by his head.  Ben, you’re the skinniest, see if you can slide down near his shoulders.  One of you other men go to his legs and the other two be ready to step in and help.”

       “We need to keep him as straight as possible, especially from his shoulders up.  Ben you lift from under his shoulders and Miles you hold those bolts of cloth tight against his head.  When he’s up we’ll place him on the door and secure him.  Ready?  At the same time now,” he commanded, and I could see him muttering what I knew was a prayer.

       It went well, and we placed Martin on the door.  I told Doc I had to leave and he asked that I send up either Charlie or Mateo to help, then off I took to get my prisoner.  It so happened that Charlie was in the jail with Lucas when I entered.  He rushed immediately out while I took Hendricks from his cell.

       “Your boss, Martin, is near dead from bein’ beaten,” I told him as I walked him out of the jail and on towards the station.  There was a slight facial movement but he quickly regained his stolid composure.

       Upon entering the train car, I was surprised to see Betty Chapman sitting next to a young girl.  It was Agatha.  I hurriedly placed the handcuffs of Henricks to the seat and went down to her.  As I approached I saw Javier and the Parson walking down the aisle.

       Javier sat down across from his bride, and after the Parson took his seat, I asked, “This is a little above and beyond the call of duty, isn’t it?”

       He looked up and gave me a smile.  “Why, Miles, isn’t that what Christians are supposed to do?”  He paused for a moment, then continued.  “In fact, isn’t that why you’re involved with Hendricks back there?” he nodded toward him with his head.  “Seems that was out of your jurisdiction.”

       “My badge doesn’t have jurisdiction restrictions,” I hastily replied.

       “Exactly,” he came back at me, and touching his Bible, “neither does my ‘badge.'”

It’s been three days since the trial of Ben Hendrick.  I would be taking him to Canon City tomorrow to begin serving his sentence.  Hopefully, on the way I might gain some more information regarding the man who had escaped and the involvement of Amos Martin.  So far, he had been close-mouthed regarding others and had become quite sullen.  I tried to play on that whenever I saw him, mentioning the fact that he was left to take the blame.  Or saying something like a “fine lot of friends he had.”  Anything to work on his mind.

       The morning after the trial I went to Martin’s Hardware.  He opened at 9:00 and I was there shortly after.  “Just checkin’ on yuh, Martin.  I want to make sure nothin’ happens to yuh.”

       “What do you mean, ‘checking on me?’  I haven’t done anything wrong!” he bellowed as if I had hit him.  Perhaps I had.  

       “Well, we have a kidnapper who’s escaped custody, and I want to make sure no harm befalls you,” I replied with a large smile.

       He gave a grunt, then snapped, “Why would any harm come to me?”

       I pointed with my finger in the air, then lowered it towards him.  “Say, that’s a good question.”  I stopped to begin my exit, then turned back to Martin.  “Just so’s yuh know, I’ll be checkin’ on you regularly.  Either myself, or Sheriff Gold,” I said, letting that linger for a moment then added, “or Marshal Ramirez.”

       The blood began to flow up his neck.  “You be havin’ a good day,” I remarked then walked out of the store.

       I was at his shop the next morning to greet him before he opened up.  “Mornin’, “I greeted him with a grin.  “Trust yuh slept well.”  Then I proceeded to walk off down the boardwalk.

       Charlie walked by as he was closing up for the evening, but just for the orneriness of it, I had Mateo stand outside during the day for twenty minutes or so.  I hadn’t quite figued it out why he hated the Mexicans and most likely Indians so much.  Come to think of it, when any Utes or Pueblos come to town they don’t bother going into Martin’s store.  ‘Course they might not need anything there, but perhaps there could be something deeper.

       The third day, I waited just before noon to walk in to greet him.  He was waiting on a couple of customers and I purposely interrupted.  “Howdy gents,” I said congenially, “Martin, I didn’t want yuh to think I forgot ’bout you.  I’ll be takin’ Hendricks out tomorrow, but don’t yuh worry, I’ll see that yur well-guarded.”

       “Well guarded, what did he mean by that?  Amos, are you in some danger?” questioned Tom Kramer, a local farmer.  He turned to me, “Marshal, are we in danger being in this store?”

       Shrugging my shoulders I simply replied, “Ask Mr. Martin about that,” then turned and walked out.

       I would be leaving mid-morning, but I wanted to see Martin one more time before I left.  I arrived at the hardware store around 9:30 and was surprised to find the door locked.  There were lights on inside.  Since I’m the curious sort, part of being a marshal, I walked on to the back.  There were horse tracks at the back door and when I went up to it I found it partially opened. 

       I gripped the Greener in my left hand, and pulled my pistol as I stepped inside the store.  The backroom was dark, and I stepped to look through the doorway before entering the main part of the store, I stopped to survey it.  No one was inside.  Slowly I moved in and approached the cash register.  Before getting there I saw a form lying on the floor behind the counter.

       Martin!  I stooped down to see if…