Father Damian Cisneros had been severely beaten and warnings left on him in symbolic fashion.  As of yet Miles Forrest, nor Mateo or Charlie Gold had any idea what they meant as the priest had not regained consciousness.  It had been three days since the attack on him.  Join with me for another thrilling episode and return to those exciting days of yore with the Saga of Miles Forrest.

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

     Rev. Chapman and his wife Betty arrived on the morning train and he wasted no time in coming to see the unconscious priest.  Doc Jones had thought it best to leave him on his own bed and not try to move him with his skull bashed the way it was.   It was great the way the community rallied around him.  Catholic and non both joined in to stay by his bedside.  Doc had given instructions that if he regained consciousness to call him immediately.

     Molly happened to be sitting with him, and I had brought her some sandwiches to eat when the Parson showed up.  Briefly I filled him in on what had taken place.  From time to time he would shake his head, and the concern was etched on his face.

     “You have no idea who did this?” he questioned as he looked down on the still form on the bed.

     Sighing, I shook my head before answering, “I don’t know who did it, but I have a pretty good idea who was behind it.  Problem is I have no proof.  I’m hoping that when the padre wakens he might shed some light on the culprits.”

     Parson Chapman stepped up to the bed.  “Molly, do you mind if I sit there and pray for him?”

     “No, of course not,” she softly replied, getting up to come stand by my side.

     The cuts and abrasions were better, but his face still showed the color of black, blue and yellow from the beating.  The Parson lifted his hand to look closely at the X that was now beginning to scab over.  The pardre’s head was covered with a white bandage and Molly kept a soft cloth over his eyes per Doc’s instructions.

     As the preacher began to pray, Molly bowed her head to join in silent agreement with him.  I stared at the man lying in almost lifeless condition on the bed following an adage that I had picked up years ago from the Good Book–“watch and pray.”  I found in my business it doesn’t pay to close one’s eyes, and I was sure that the Lord would hear my prayers, eyes open or shut.

     The Parson bent low, next to the padre’s head, praying softly for about fifteen minutes.  Then he lightly touched all around his head.  Finishing, he turned to look up at us.  There was a faint smile on his face.  “I feel assured that the Lord heard our prayers.  It may take a while, but the good father will be all right.”

     He stood and Molly retained her position by the bed.  The Parson came to stand by me.  “So I take it you think Amos Martin had something to do with this?”

     I hesitated to answer but then said, “I do, and if he does you may be on his list.”

     Putting his hand on my shoulder he said, “I will take care and I’d best be getting back to Betty.  She’ll want to know what is going on.”  He looked at Molly, “Put her on the list to sit with the father, I’m sure she would want that.”

     I stayed with Molly until one of the ladies from the barrio came to take her place.  Mateo was with her and introduced us.  I found that the woman was a distant cousin of his.  We left her with the priest as Mateo went on with his rounds and I walked Molly home.

     “Miles!” she exclaimed pointing at our cabin.  “Look!”

     Lifting my eyes to our little place I was taken back and was aghast with…

I had only been inside this church one other time.  It was when I was town marshal and had to chase down a man who cut up one of the saloon girls.  He claimed what he called “sanctuary.”  Now I know to respect the church, but from what I recall only the Levites could declare a sanctuary and there ain’t no Levites today unless they’re up in Mormon country.  I remember thumping him on the head with the Greener and dragging him out and down the street.  If I recall right, he earned twenty-five years in the penitentiary.  I didn’t know who the priest was then, but Father Damien had come into the diner a couple of times with Parson Chapman.  

     Mateo led me to a little alcove just outside the church and another small building which I assumed was where the priest lived.  He was gone a couple of minutes when he hollered, “Miles, get in here quick!”

     The priest was half leaning on the side of a bed and laying on the floor.  There was blood around him and he was unconscious.  I looked at Mateo, “Is he alive?”  

     “Si, but I think in bad shape.  You stay here, I’ll go get Doc Jones.”

     Nodding to him he rushed out.  I wasn’t sure if I should place him on the bed, but he looked so uncomfortable in the position he was in.  I didn’t think his neck was broken, and maybe I did wrong but I lifted him up and laid him down on the bed.  His eyelids fluttered a few times, and I thought I heard a moan, but he didn’t come to.  I stayed with him, uttered a prayer on his behalf.  I’ve heard that in an unconscious state a person sometimes can hear you and it sure wouldn’t hurt the good man to know someone was praying for him.

     Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, I heard voices.  One couldn’t miss Doc’s grumbling.  “Caught him just in time,” uttered Mateo bringing Doc into the little room.

     “I was heading out to the Fordhams.  Phoebe’s expecting and one of the boys was sent to fetch me, so this better be urgent,” snapped Doc.  Then when he saw the condition of Father Damien, he exclaimed, “O my mercy!  Get out of the way Miles, so I can look him over!”

     I stood away then began to examine the room.  It was small, a cot for a bed, a table upon which a couple of books lay along with a candle.  There was a trunk against the far wall and by the doorway another stand with a basin and pitcher.  

     “One of you hand me my bag,” commanded Doc.  Mateo reacted first giving the bag to Doc from which he took a pair of scissors.  He began to cut the shirt away.  After he was barechested Doc started his probing.  Then he requested that the basin of water be given to him.  Taking a clean cloth from the bag, he began to clean the blood from the man’s face, and the one side of his head.  There was also a deep cut on the back of his right hand of the priest in the form of an X.

     I moved so I could get a closer look.  “That appears to be a cut from a knife,” I muttered to no one in particular.

     “Very astute, Miles,” retorted Doc.

     I glanced at Mateo.  “Ever seen that before?”

     He shook his head along with a shrug.  “It must mean something, but no, I have never seen it before,” he replied then paused.  “I wonder if it was among the marks left on the church.  We’ll have to wait to ask the Padre.”

     Doc stood up, rubbing his chin.  “If you get the chance.  I don’t know if he’ll live or not.  He’s resting now, but I’m concerned about internal injuries and I don’t like the looks of that head.  The skull has been crushed in this one spot.  I need to get him down to the office, but I darst not move him.”

     “I need to get on out to the Fordhams, but I don’t want to leave him alone in case he regains consciousness.  After I return I’ll bring something to bandage him, and look at his head in a better light.  That is, if one of you two could find a couple of lamps.”

     He started to move on out of the room, then stopped to turn to look at the priest again.  “Shame, downright shame.”

     “What do you mean, Doc?” I questioned softly.

     “A man of peace treated worse than a cur dog.”

     Mateo had already left to find someone to sit with the priest until Doc could return.  “Can you tell me anything?”

     Shaking his head, “Not really, except that he’s in bad shape.  If he comes to he might be able to tell you something, but mind you, that’s a big if.”

     The last time I had seen this man, he had just performed a wedding and had a large smile on his face.  He was laughing along with Rev. Chapman, and now, now…I would find the man or men who did this…

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…