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

     McBride’s telegram simply stated, “All set, welcome aboard.”  I was in the process of opening Blasco’s when a down-on-his-luck miner burst through the doorway.  “Marshal, come quick.  He’s killin’ them!”

     I stood up, grabbed the Greener, then asked, “Killin’ who?”  

     “A big guy up at Death’s Door was stompin’ ol’ Gus, when the deputy tried to stop him,” the man stopped looking at the floor.  “Poor guy,” he muttered.  

     Lucas, and with that thought I rushed out the door.  Running up the hill, I then cut behind some buildings as the saloon mentioned was on the back street.  Not a well-to-do place.  Mateo was out of town checking on some stock at Thompsons.  I prayed as I ran.

     The saloon loomed in front of me so I slowed to a walk so I could get my breath back.  I sure didn’t want to be going into a fight short of breath.  Stopping at the bat-wing doors I breathed deeply a couple of times then peered over the doors.  The man was right, a big man was kicking the life out of a man on the floor.  I didn’t see Lucas at first, but then spotted a leg sticking out from under a table.

     It was time to end this.  “If you kick that man one more time I’ll blow your kneecap off!” I barked, leveling the shotgun.

     He turned and snarled at me.  Whooeee, he was a big-un; made at least two of me.  “Now step back and take off that gunbelt.”

     I started toward him.  He grunted, “Big man with a shotgun.  You put that down, we’ll fight even.”

     “You just do what I say!  Now, or I might have to thump you.”

     The distance had closed between us, but I knew to keep enough space where he couldn’t grab the Greener.  He feigned to unbuckle his belt, but lunged at me instead.  I was half expecting something and instead of retreating I advanced, using the barrel of the shotgun like a bayonet.  I plunged it hard into his gut.  He groaned, giving out a muffled shriek and fell to his knees.  I was tempted to thump him on the head for spite.

     I looked around for a familiar face, but didn’t recognize anyone but the barkeep.  “Fenny, here, hold this on him.”

     Tossing him the shotgun I hurried over to Lucas lying on the floor, unconscious.  He was breathing and I didn’t see any blood on him.  I slapped him lightly on the cheek.  Nothing.

     “Marshal,” hollered Fenny, “Copper just slugged him, then kicked him.”

     By that time Doc had arrived.  He rushed to Lucas, then opened his bag.  He had a little vial that he waved under Lucas’ nose.  Lucas gave a jump, then tried to sit up.  His eyes were open, but they were groggy.  “Easy, easy there boy.  You just lie back and get your bearings.”

     Doc looked at me, “Now what did you do to that big fellow?  You didn’t thump him did you?”

     “No, he ran into the barrel of my gun.”

     Doc, stepping over to the man.  “The Greener I suppose?  Help me get him into that chair.”

     “Doc,” came a deep moan, “I feel busted up inside, I…”

People who live only for wealth come to the end of their lives as naked and empty-handed as on the day they were born.”  –Ecclesiastes 5:15 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

     We had just finished a fine diner with Reverend and Betty Chapman after church services.  She prepared a wonderful fried chicken dinner along with pickled beets and baked beans.  She profusely apologized for not having any potatoes, but the season was past and they didn’t have any in their root cellar.  Molly was the pie baker, but Betty Chapman was known for her cakes and she outdid herself with a chocolate cake of which we were now partaking in the living room.  

     “Miles, I hope my coffee suits you.  I know you like it strong.  I don’t make it often as I prefer tea,” she paused to look over at Molly.  “Would you care for a cup of tea or would you prefer coffee?”

     “I don’t often make tea just for myself, so if you don’t mind I share your tea.  Oh, and I might say, that’s an exquisite tea set.”

     “You’re kind,” replied Betty.  “It belong to my mother who died just before we left St. Louis to come here.”

     Now, I don’t mind a cup of tea now and then, but I do prefer my coffee.  I could see the Parson watching me as I took my first sip.  He was grinning so I reckoned I should say something.  “Not bad, Betty, not bad at all.  I can drink this.”

     She gave a little chortle, “So you can drink it.”

     “It goes well with this delicious cake,” I quickly added.

     “Well done, well done, Miles,” enjoined the Parson.  “Now what it this I hear about a new position?”

     I quickly finished the cake, then held my cup out to be refilled which brought a smile from Betty.  I took a sip, to wash the rest of the cake down my throat.  “That’s what I want to talk with you about.  It’s with the Colorado Rangers and I would be in charge of this district.”

     “So what do you want from me?” he asked.  “It seems that a door is open.  Why are you hesitant to step through it?”

     Glancing over at Molly I answered him, “Well, it will take me away from home more often, but not as long.  As a marshal I could be away for longer periods.  This would be a circuit similar to what a sheriff does with the county.”

     Rev. Chapman looked over at Molly.  “And what do you think?”

     She sighed before answering, “I have the same concerns as Miles.  The pay is steady, but knowing him he would take it seriously,” she paused to smile at me.  “Overall, I think he would be home more.”

     Laughing, I interrupted, “I should have partnered in with Lot Smith with the wild horse business when I had the opportunity.”

     “Miles,” began the preacher, “we don’t live in the past with regrets, but look to what the Lord has for us in the future.  I hesitate to say anything for if it doesn’t work out I don’t want you saying that the Rev. Chapman told me to do this or that.”

     We all chuckled, but I told him that he had no worry regarding that.  Since he was our pastor we thought we should run the idea by him.  “One other thing, I could be called to Denver once in a while, something that I don’t relish.  For sure whenever there is an election of governor.”

     “I will say this…there is a door open and the Word of God says that the steps of a righteous man are ordered by him.  However…”

There is another serious problem I have seen in the world.  Riches are sometimes hoarded to the harm of the saver, or they are put into risky investments that turn sour, and everything is lost.  In the end, there is nothing left to pass on to one’s children.”  –Ecclesiastes 5:13-14 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

     We were all enjoying a delicious breakfast at the diner.  By “we”, I mean myself, Mateo, and Charlie Gold.  Seldom are the three of us able to get together unless it is because of some crisis.  Mateo had Emelda’s wonderful huevos rancheros of which I had an order of myself.  It is always a hard decision, the huevos rancheros or biscuits and gravy of which the Sheriff was stuffing himself with.

     “Careful, Charlie.  Yuh better slow down some or you’ll be droppin’ a glob that gravy on your new shirt.  I don’t think Marta would be pleased.  I will say, however, that’s it’s nice to see you all dressed up.”

     Mateo stopped his fork halfway to his mouth and grinned.  “It’s ’cause he’s politicking.  Election is comin’ up in a few weeks.”

     I had been out of town and had plum forgotten that it was election time.  I was just getting ready to remark on it when Doc Jones walked into the diner.  “Well, sure hope there’s no crime taking place in town as the duly appointed law officers, and one elected one,” he said pointing to Charlie, “are all stuffing their bellies with food.  And from what I’m seeing if there was a crime they would be so full that they’d have to waddle to the crime scene.”

     “Doc, sit yourself down and quit your blabbering!” snapped Charlie.  “We were listening to Miles.  He’s got quite the decision to make.”

     “Heard you were back in town,” quipped Doc, then he surveyed our plates.  Shaking his head, he waved Lola over.  “Dear, I’ll have a piece of pie–chocolate if you have any.  If not, bring me any type of cream pie.”

     “I’ll get the coffee for him, Lola.  Go ahead and find something for Doc’s disposition to sweeten it up.”

     I got a glare from him along with a grunted, “Bah.”

     Standing I grabbed a cup from the shelf and poured Doc a cup of coffee, and then filled the cups of Mateo and Charlie along with my own.  As I was setting the pot back on the stove I heard Charlie warn Doc, “If you take the last piece of chocolate, you might just be having to fix yourself up.”

     “Come on, Miles, sit down and tell me what’s happening,” commanded Doc, before taking a sip.

     “I’ve been offered a position as a Colorado Ranger,” I simply told the three of them.

     “Does that mean Denver is in your future?” inquired Doc, sipping at the hot brew.

     “No, I’ll be assigned to Section D and will travel a circuit similar to what Charlie does as sheriff.

     Mateo was staring, and I could tell he was puzzled.  “Amigo, pardon my ignorance, but I have never, ever, heard of the Colorado Mounted Rangers.”

     “And what is Section D?” blurted out Doc.

     “Ask him what Molly thinks of it,” snickered Charlie.  I looked at him, smiling.  A large chuck of gravy had fallen on his new shirt.  The whitish color of the gravy showed up quite well on his maroon shirt.

     “Hold on…”

People who work hard sleep well, whether they eat little or much.  But the rich are always worrying and seldom get a good night’s sleep.”  –Ecclesiastes 5:12 (NLT)

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

     As far as I knew McBride and I had never met.  He might have been in that meeting with the Governor, but I couldn’t recall him.  When my foot touched the station platform, he started walking towards me.  He didn’t know me, but I reckoned he recognized the Greener in my hand.

     He reached out his hand, “Marshal Forrest, we finally meet.”  

     Grasping his hand, we stood for a few seconds analyzing each other.  He was a few inches taller than my five ten and he gave me a slight nod, then released my hand.  Here we stood, momentarily, two warriors both filled with scars accessing each other and now we were walking side by side.  I noticed that he was constantly glancing around; yep, a wary man was he.  I had seen a few men like him in my lifetime:  Cook, McNelly, Butler, and a few others that had that look.

     I stopped before we crossed the road that ran parallel to the tracks.  Thoughts from years past swept through my mind.  McBride looked at me, “What’s wrong?”  Then I saw that he was scanning up and down the street.  I pointed to the cafe and a saloon next to it.  “Ten years ago or so, I was involved in a shootout there.  Banker, a couple of others and a woman…” I paused, then added, “Some dead, some in the pen.”

     I nodded at him, letting him know I was ready to move on.  “You hungry?” he asked.  “I know a little place that serves a great steak with some chili verde.  You can drop your saddlebags off at the hotel on the way.”

     My eyes caught his and he smiled.  “Don’t fret, the meal is on the great State of Colorado.”

     He led me to the Fariss Hotel, a fine looking establishment and when I walked inside I saw that it was a little more extravagant than I was used to.  We walked up to the counter.  “Room for Miles Forrest,” commanded McBride holding out his hand.

     The clerk was a young man, and he had a look of malnourishment.  “Sign the register,” he said, then reached to the slot where there was a key located.  “Room 28, right up the stairs to the right.”

     McBride took the key and headed towards the stairs.  He must have read my thoughts.  “Consumption.”

     I knew that Colorado Spring and Boulder had sanatoriums for the disease, but I hadn’t come in contact with it often.  I knew that Cook’s wife suffered from it and the last I heard was up in Boulder.

     Throwing my saddlebags on the bed, I walked out with McBride.  “You taking that shotgun with you?” he questioned pointing at the Greener.

     “Part of me, seldom go anywhere without it.”

     Thirty minutes later we had almost finished our dinner, and McBride had ordered us each a slice of pie.  The coffee wasn’t bad for hotel coffee, and I reckoned the pie would be quite short of Molly’s making.  I will give McBride credit, he didn’t push or talk shop while we were eating.  We talked mostly about family, places we’d been, and folks we knew.  

     “Let me tell you the region you’ll be responsible for.  I reckon that’s what mostly on your mind.  From what I’ve gathered in our conversation you’ve a hankering to stay home more.  Well, I can’t promise you that.  You’ll have the southwest section and that would include the four corners up to Grand Junction.  Population is relatively sparse except for in your area around Silverton, however, the four corners has become a haven for outlaws.  They find places to hide in all the ruins.”

     “So I operate it similar to a sheriff with a county?”

     “You operate it the way you want as long as your presence is known and felt,” he said bluntly.  “As far as Denver is concerned, you’ll need to be here for special events concerning the Governor.”

      “And if the Governor changes his policy regarding the Rangers, what then?”

     There was a twinkle in his eyes, and a smile…