Wisdom is always distant and very difficult to find.” –Ecclesiastes 7:24 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

     It had been quiet, at least in my line of work, the past week.  Of course, Mateo and his office were busy with the nightly drunk and barroom fights.  Charlie was making his rounds to the outside communities and was currently up in Telluride.  Me, I was sitting in the diner, drinking coffee and had just finished a piece of butterscotch pie.

     Molly came over to sit with me.  Marta was back at work full time along with Lola, her niece.  Emelda was doing almost all the cooking except for baking the pies.  Mateo was working the morning shift and stopped in to see us.  I motioned to the pot on the stove and received a nod.  As he was pulling out a chair I grabbed a cup to fill it then leaned over to top off my cup.

     “Ahhh, that’s good coffee,” he remarked with satisfaction.  “I don’t know why I don’t take the time to come by here more often.”  He paused, and with an expression that was somewhat of a grimace and a grin, he asked, “Have you ever tasted the stuff that Lucas makes?  I’d almost swear in Klaser’s court that he scraped off the bottom of his boot to add to it.  I’ve had bad coffee in my time, but honestly Molly,” he looked over to her, “it is the worst!”

     “So Alejo is working full time for Bert Winfield now?”

     Mateo grinned, “Si, it sure helps with groceries since he eats most of his meals there.  I feel like I should send some food to the Senora to help out.” 

     “No!” exclaimed Molly.  “He’s not old enough to be working full time.

     “Almost sixteen,” replied Mateo, “plus he wants to be a cowboy and he’ll learn from Senor Winfield.”

     Molly was shaking her head.  “I just don’t believe he’s that old.  But, Mateo, sixteen, that’s too young.  What does Luciana say?”

     Mateo took a long draught of his coffee.  I don’t know how he can do that with it so hot.  “She’s fine, but she did tell him that he must read his Bible every morning and before going to sleep at night.  He also must come home for church on Sunday.”

     Molly thought for a moment.  “That would mean that he would have to get up early on Sunday or come late on Saturday.”

     “It’s not bad, only ’bout an hour out,” he paused, then looked at me.  “Any more news regarding the man on the palomino?”

     “Nothin’,” I replied, with a shrug.

     He took another sip.  “Don’t let your guard down.”

     I gave a little chuckle.  Here’s the young, new marshal giving the old-time lawdog advice.  But I’d surely take it.

     We both jumped, shots were fired and as Mateo jumped for his chair a shot came through the window causing both of us to fall to the floor.  I grabbed Molly pulling her out of her chair as I went down.  More shots, then Mateo was up, and pulling his gun as he rushed for the door.

     Pausing briefly at the door, he went out…

All along I have tried my best to let wisdom guide my thoughts and actions.  I said to myself, ‘I am determined to be wise.’  But it didn’t really work.”  –Ecclesiastes 7:23 (NLT)

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

     Taking the keys I went inside the cell block to open the cells where Blackhand and Logan were kept.  Opening the cell, I said, “Let’s go.  You’re free.”

     Both looked at me, Billy Blackhand smiled, and Davy Logan gave me a dull, doped look.  I wondered how he would do without the laudanum that Doc was giving him.  We walked on out to the office where Lucas was getting their guns and other personal items for them.

     Blackhand looked at his pistol.  “It’s not loaded!”

     “You can load it after you’re out of town.  If you do so before, I’ll run you back in.”

     “Billy, help me,” cried Logan.  “Fasten my holster around me.  No, the other way, I’ll have to use my left hand.”

     Lucas had sent for their horses which were being kept up at Moses Vexler’s livery.  We were standing outside when Nob Linsell, a youngster who worked for Moses, brought them down.  I flipped him two-bits.

     “Marshal, you don’t have to do that.  Moses pays me well,” he remarked.

     “Take your gal to the parlor for some ice cream,” I said laughing, causing him to blush.

     He joined in with the laughter, “Maybe I just will.”

     Logan was having trouble mounting his horse.  Partially because of his hand, and partially because of the laudanum.  I didn’t bother to help, and I noticed that Billy didn’t either.  Finally, after Logan was in the saddle, Billy mounted his horse.

     “Coloraw has been reported up by Lake City,” I told him, getting no response.

     He stared at me with not hatred in his eyes, but almost as if they were empty.  Hollow, like his soul had become.  “I hope not to see you around these parts again,” I spoke sharply to them.

     “You won’t, lawman!  You won’t see me, you won’t hear me…”

     I cut him off.  “Get on out of here, or I’m liable to throw you back in that cell.”

     He pulled his gun out, and reached for a bullet on his belt.  I pulled my pistol, pointed it at him, and cocked it.  “You put one bullet in that gun and I’ll blow you out of the saddle.”

     Laughing, he pushed the bullet back in the loop, and holstered his gun.  “Let’s go Davy.”  Then he gave a loud whoop, kicked his horse and galloped on down the street to the West, followed more slowly by Logan.

     Lucas stepped up beside me and muttered, “Guess, they’re not going to Coloraw’s camp.”

     He opened the door to the office, then stopped.  “Senor Miles, I have not been in the job long, but I have seen the hearts of men.  It is, as if that one was vacant here,” he said, touching his chest.  “Nothing there.”

     I nodded.  “Lucas, unless the Spirit of God resides in us there is all sorts of evil that can and will take residence in our hearts.  It takes different forms in different people, none of it good.”

     “Si, Senor, I am learning…”

Don’t eavesdrop on others–you may hear your servant laughing at you. For you know how often you yourself have laughed at others.”  –Ecclesiastes 7:21-22 (NLT)

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

     The district attorney Luther and I discussed the situation further.  He said five years would probably be the most he could get and that Davy Logan might get probation due to the amputation of his hand.

     “Listen, Counselor, I have two concerns.  The young bucks think that they have a personal warpath against the Navaho.  Both Ignacio and Coloraw have for all practical purposes kicked them out.  They are on their own and it seems like they have a personal vendetta.  Something they must prove, at least to themselves.  My other concern is that Charlie Two-Face will take it upon himself to bring justice to these renegades.  There are two families without anyone to care for their needs, plus the means in which they were killed.”

     “Miles, what do you want me to do?”

     “Can you give me another week?  I’d like to talk with the two men some more.  Blackhand is a dilemma,” I requested, then got up to get the coffeepot.

     Luther was shaking his head, then a smile appeared.  “People think the law is easy.  But there are sometimes situations such as this, that there is no right solution.  Most likely, “he paused, taking time to stroke his goatee before speaking again, “they should be tried for murder.  But without witnesses…” he shrugged, “what can I do?”

     He looked my direction.  “We could take a chance.  Hope that the jury will find them guilty and at least put them in prison,” he paused to repeat his actions with the little beard.  “Of course, they may just request Judge Klaser to listen to the case and bring judgment, and…” shaking his head, “I know the Judge will want witnesses.”

     “I don’t know what I can do, but at least a week.”

     “That I can do without making a formal charge.  But then we have to decide.”

     Reaching out my hand, we shook.  “Thanks Luther for taking the time to see me.  I’m not happy with the way things are turning out.  I’m convinced that they are guilty, and I’m not sure that any rehabilitation is possible.”

     The rest of the week I moved in and out of the jail, speaking with the two men held there.  Logan was in a stupor most of the time with the laudanum that Doc had given him.  However, from time to time I could see his eyes flash full of hatred when he looked at me.  Billy Blackhand, he could be amiable at times, then the hatred came forth from him as well.

     Finally, I laid it out in front of them.  “There’s a chance you may be set free.”  Billy’s eyes lit up.  “If you’re free to walk out of here, what will be your plans?”

     He didn’t hesitate, “I will find Coloraw and ride with him as he fights and kills the white men.”

     At least he was straightforward.  “You won’t go back to fighting the Navaho?” I questioned.

     Hesitating, I could see him working his jaws.  “Only if Coloraw attacks them.”

     I nodded, then I had to ask, “What will you do if Coloraw doesn’t accept you back?”

     He turned his back, looking at the wall, then down at Logan.  “Then you will see, lawman, you will see.”

     Sighing I left the jail.  Lucas glanced at me as I entered the office.  I met his eyes and just shook my head…

There is not a single person in all the earth who is always good and never sins.”  –Ecclesiastes 7:20(NLT)

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

     Now, I’ve seen the Parson Chapman excited when he gets to preaching the Word and the power comes on him, but he was downright excited when the train pulled in.  He wasn’t jumping, but he was sure walking back and forth waiting for the baggage car to open.  Lucas was with me and I grabbed Grath McCall and Darnelle’s new suitor, Glynn Allison to help me with the preacher.

     “There it is!” he exclaimed, pointing to a crate inside the car.  He started to enter the car when the worker for the Denver & Rio Grande held him back.  “Preacher, you stay on the platform, we’ll get it out to you.”  It was not belligerent, but just business.  

     In minutes, which probably seemed longer to the Parson, the crate was on the platform ready for us to load it in the wagon that the Parson had borrowed.  On the crate in bold letters were the words, “Burdette Organ Co.”  We had been singing in the church, contrary to the view of some of the parishioners to Lyn Gimmel’s guitar.  I smiled wondering what the stogy folk would think about this new organ.  The church had agreed to purchase it through offerings and a couple of bake sales.  I knew that Dale and his wife Betty put plenty of their own money into the purchase as well as a certain Molly Forrest.

     He was all a tither, telling us to be careful, to not bump it against the side of the wagon.  “Preacher!” hollered up McCall, “it’s in a crate!”

     Within the next hour it was unloaded, uncrated, and positioned in front of the Durango Community Church.  Both the Parson and I thanked the men for their help and they went their way.  Before I joined them, I leaned to the beaming recipient of the organ.  “Uh, Pastor Chapman,” I said in a loud whisper.  “Let me remind you about idols.”

     He jerked, looked at me, then laughed.  “Miles, I guess I am a little excited.  Not to show off that our congregation has a new organ, but that we can enjoy the music that the Lord has provided in our worship,” he paused, reaching down to touch the keys and then to wipe his hand across the top of the organ.  “But you’re right.  I will be careful.”

     I bid him good day, but by the time I was down the steps and walking on my way to the diner, I heard the sweet refrain of “In the Sweet By and By.”  I couldn’t help but smile, and I think I even kicked up my heels a bit.

     It was too early for lunch, but Molly smiled when I walked in and then before speaking headed straight for the kitchen.  I took off my jacket placing it on the back of my chair, placed the Greener against the wall, then pulled a mug from the shelf and filled it with coffee.  As I was sitting down, Molly came marching out, or was she swaying, with a piece of pie.

     “Rhubard,” she said.  “Mrs. Calder found some growing in her garden already.  Fresh shoots, and I will say, mighty tasty.  I saved you this one piece, Miles.”

     She sat with me, while I devoured the pie.  She still worked with the diner, but she was only supposed to be doing the books and ordering supplies.  They couldn’t keep her out of the kitchen though.  The people liked her cookies and pies so much.

     I was taking a sip of coffee when the door opened and I glanced over the rim of the cup.  It was Desiderus Luther, the city district attorney.  He looked his dapper normal self, but I knew the clothes were for professional appearance.  He was as tough as nails in the courtroom.  He doffed his hat, “Good morning, Mrs. Forrest,” then he glanced at me, “Miles.  May I sit?”

     Nodding, I didn’t let him stop me from taking a bite.  He was quite interested in what I was eating.  “Hmm, Molly, is there any more of that delectable looking pie?”

     That brought a smile from her.  “No,” she said, getting up.  “But there is a piece of butterscotch left.”

     A little sigh came from Luther, then he said.  “It might not be delectable, but I’m sure it will be every bit as delicious.”

     I couldn’t help it, I groaned and rolled my eyes.

     He laughed.  “Miles, the case has been rejected by the federal court.  I am to proceed in our court with the trial,” he said with a lengthy pause.  That wasn’t good.

     “Miles, I don’t have evidence to try them for murder.  There are no witnesses against them.  I can try them for the attempted murder of an officer of the law.”  He paused as Molly brought him the pie.  “Excuse me why I enjoy my first bite.”

     Molly and I were both grinning at him.  He saw us, and joined us, then remembered his manners and wiped his mouth.  “Now, Miles, you could round up some witnesses.”

     I began shaking my head, “Not gonna happen Counselor.  I might find Charlie Two-Face, but he didn’t see the crime.”

     He saw the frown on my face, “What’s wrong, Miles?”

     “If I release them, there is a good chance that there will be another murder, or more if…”