The wounded Ben Andrews has surrendered and was arrested, however, the one named Lark is still on the loose in town.  We left Miles last week searching for this miscreant of justice.  Would he try again to break his boss, Todd Johnson from jail or seek to flee, saving himself.  Come with me now, back to those days of yesteryear for another thrilling adventure in the life of Miles Forrest.

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

       I searched for two more hours, moving up and down alleys, checking out every shed and stall in the area but there was no sign of this other jasper.  I hated to leave him running loose in the area, but with the dark approaching the search would have to end.

       When I went back to the jail, Mateo was gone, but he had finished the paperwork on the arrest.  Lucas had decided to stay close to his little barricade, just in case.  “You be ready,” I admonished him, then added.  “You did a good job earlier today.  Don’t worry about feedin’ the prisoners, I’ll bring something back and relieve you so you can eat.”

       Coolness had settled in with the night.  There was a nip to the air, snow could come at any time now.  Upon entering the diner I went straight to my table back near the stove.  I wasn’t cold, but the warmth from the stove felt good.  Maybe it was something else, age possibly that was creeping up.  Settling down with a cup of coffee, Molly came out from the kitchen with a bowl of chicken and dumplings.  She must have seen me through the window and gone back to get it for me.  What a gal!

       The rush was on, so she didn’t have time to sit with me.  Marta was back working full time, and this evening Edith was helping out.  As I enjoyed my meal, I watched them work, and the customers enjoying their meals.  That brought to mind the other crooked lawman.  He had to be still in town, and he had to be getting hungry.  I doubted that he would venture down into town, but he could break into one of the homes back where we lost his trail.

       After eating I took two bowls of the delightful dinner I had up to the jail and released Lucas for his meal.  He said he was fine and after eating that he would stay the night in the jail.  When he came back, I helped him fix a pallet on the floor where he wanted to stay behind his small fortress.  Tomorrow was Sunday and Mateo would be in to relieve Lucas in the morning.  Neither of us knew when Charlie would be back from Telluride.

       Sitting in church the next morning next to Molly I thought about how fortunate I was to be with her.  The years were passing quickly, but we had a solid foundation.  As Preacher Chapman waxed eloquently that morning on “What a Man Sows.”  One thing that caught my attention was the fact that other times when I heard a sermon on these verses from Galatians that it was negative.  This morning, Rev, Chapman emphasized sowing to the Spirit and that we must not get tired of doing good.

       After service we went back up to our little cabin.  Molly could have had a full house if she opened the diner on Sunday, but she made a commitment when she began the business that she wouldn’t open on Sunday, only on rare occasions to help feed needy people and no money was collected.  She brought home the leftover chicken and dumplings and as soon as I put a fire in the stove she would heat them up.

       Moving up toward the cabin door, I stopped abruptly.  Removing the leather thong from the hammer of my pistol, I held Molly back.  Something was wrong.  I didn’t know what, but I could sense it.  “Stay here,” I ordered before moving up closer.  Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but still…

       Opening the door slowly, I poked my head into the room.  Nothing seemed disturbed, nothing until I saw the pot on the table.  We had left it on the stove this morning upon leaving for church.  I moved quietly to the bedroom to peek in there–nothing.  Then back out to the kitchen area and table.  Someone had helped themselves to our leftovers we had planned for Sunday dinner.

       I went back to the door and waved for Molly to come on in.  After informing her of what happened, I told her to stay and I went out the back to see if I could find any tracks.  Looking out to the near pasture I could see Hawk and Star, but there was no sign of Two-Bits.  I moved slow and easy toward the stalls.  Upon reaching them…

Miles has finally reached Durango with his prisoner, Marshal Todd Johnson, formally of Silverton.  With the help of city marshal Mateo Ramirez, Johnson is now sitting in jail with a broken collarbone and wrist.  He is in a sour mood.  Miles had spotted at least two of Johnson’s men on the train, but he lost sight of them when they departed the station.  Let’s look at another exciting adventure from yesteryear in the life of Miles Forrest.

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

       “Kid, do yourself a favor, and let me out of here,” stressed Johnson to the jailer, young Lucas Ramos.  “If not, you’re likely to end up dead on the floor.  I have men out there that plan to break me out.”

       Lucas snorted, “Senor, if they’re as rough and tough and ugly as you, I have no worries.  He paused a moment before closing the door to the cell room.  “If you don’t behave, I’ll forget to bring your supper.”

       Shutting the door, Lucas looked around the room.  The outer office was an easy place for a man to get shot.  There was little to no cover.  He went to the desk where he normally sat, pulled it in front of the cell door, then tipped it over.  Thinking to himself, “This desk most likely won’t stop a bullet, but it’s better than nothing.”  Getting as comfortable as he possibly could, he began to wait.

       Miles and Mateo had been gone for about twenty minutes, and Doc Jones possibly ten when two men slowly entered the room.  Lucas could see them looking around, surprised that no one was there.  “Lark, do you think he might be in the cells or in that other office,” one of the men whispered.  They had yet to see the overturned desk.

       Lucas whispered a brief prayer, then called out.  “No amigos, he is right here.  Surrender or die.”

       Both men drew and fired at the voice.  One bullet hit the frame of the cell door, another clipped the top of the desk.  Lucas then popped up firing.  A man yelped, as both scurried to get back out the entrance.  Lucas didn’t follow, but held his position in case they would return.

       “Lark, that kid hit me, I’m bleedin’!’ cried the man as they left the office running up the boardwalk toward the north of town.

       Miles had been sitting in the diner with Molly drinking coffee when the sound of gunfire erupted.  Grabbing the Greener he ran off up the street toward the jail.  He arrived just before Mateo coming up from the south whose limp didn’t seem to bother him when he ran.  He was ready to barge through the door when Miles stopped him by holding out the barrel of the shotgun to bar his entrance.

       “Easy, Lucas, this is Miles Forrest.  Don’t shoot, I’m comin’ in.”

       Lucas stood, pistol in hand pointed at the doorway.  “Senor Miles, si, come on in.  All is all right.”

       “Two men, I think friends of the prisoner, fired at me,” he remarked.  “What else could I do, I shot back.”

       “You did fine,” replied Miles, then looked at the little barricade and smiled.  “We’re goin’ to look for them, they couldn’t have gone far on foot.”

       “Senor Miles, I’m sure that I wounded one,” said Lucas, then a disgusted look appeared on his face with a slight shake of his head.  “I don’t think real bad though.” 

       Mateo led the way out of the jail, both men turning towards the north.  He pointed to a drop of blood on the boardwalk.  “Not much, but the kid was right.”

       Lark Collins and the wounded man, Ben Andrews, hurried up the street where many of the city’s finer homes and more upscale residents lived.  “It hurts, Lark,” whimpered Ben holding onto his lower arm.

       “Hush up!  We’ve got to find a place to hide, that marshal knows we’re afoot.”

       Lark looked over at his companion, noticing that every once in a while a drop of blood would drop from his arm.  “Listen, let’s split up.  They won’t expect that.”

       “But my arm, I need a doctor.”

       “Then go down to the doctor.  See how far you’ll get!” gritted Lark.  “Go on over there to those stalls.  There’ plenty of shadows.  Hunker down in a dark corner, but be quiet.”

       Andrews looked, then back at Lark who had started to walk the other direction.  He was hurting, but if he had stopped to look at the wound he should have realized that it was not serious.  Heeding the instructions he moved toward the stalls at the back of a large house.

       Lark moved on up the street then saw what he was looking for.  A smile forming on his face, he began to climb a trellis to a roof, then move on up higher on the roof hiding in the darkness provided by a cupelo.  He looked toward the west.  It would be at least two, maybe three hours before the sun went down.

       Miles and Mateo worked the street together.  The men couldn’t have gotten far; they were in town for sure.  “We’ve got three hours, Mateo.”

       Mateo stopped to gaze at a spot of blood on a rock wall.  Silently, he pointed toward some sheds.

       The two law officers moved slowly and quietly toward the sheds.  They hesitated at one, then looked into the darkness allowing time for their eyes to adjust.  Miles let Mateo take charge, who then pointed that Miles should go to the right while he went the other direction.  They moved around the small shed, guns out…

Miles finally has the injured Marshal Todd Johnson of Silverton on the train and headed down the canyon towards Durango.  At least two of Johnson’s men have boarded the train.  What awaits Miles on the trip?  Will Johnson’s men make a move with all the passengers on board to free their boss?  Miles is ready, but the rocking of the train could lull him into dozing.  Come with me to those days of yesteryear and see what happens in the furthering Saga of Miles Forrest.

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

       I could tell that Johnson was hurting.  The jostling of the train over the tracks hurt his shoulder and broken wrist.  He was in and out of sleep and I wasn’t concerned much about him trying to do anything to get away, but I was keeping my eyes on the two men that boarded and were sitting at the other end of the car.  From what I could tell they were the only two that had boarded, but someone I didn’t see or know might also be among the passengers.

       It was hard to stay awake with the rocking of the train, and I was bone tired.  I didn’t dare go to sleep with the two men aboard.  Sleep would have to wait until Johnson was safely behind bars in Durango.  I know it was all in my mind, but the trip seemed to take much longer than normal.  My eyes kept shutting until finally I stood up and leaned up against the door.  

       I must have been dozing standing up, but when the final whistle blew I came wide awake.  I moved back to the seat with Johnson and let all the passengers depart, not seeing where the two deputies of Johnson went.  I nudged Johnson with the barrel of the Greener to get up.  His face was worn, and etched in pain.  Looking away from him I saw someone standing on the platform right at the steps.  I couldn’t tell who it was, but I was going to keep Johnson between me and the newcomer.

       A big sigh of relief came from me when I recognized Mateo.  “Am I glad to see you,” I remarked, then looked around for the other two men.  They weren’t to be seen.  I informed Mateo of the men as we walked down the street toward the jail.

       Groaning, Johnson stopped, “I need a doctor.”

       “Doc Jones will be up to see you after I get you settled in a cell,” I informed him, then nudged him to continue.

       He refused to move.  “Up to you,” I charged.  “You can walk or I can drag you which I’m sure will hurt you more.”  He groaned again, then slowly started to walk again.  

       When he was settled in the cell, Mateo left to get Doc Jones.  I sat down with Lucas to inform him of the situation and the two men.  He had grown as a man in the past few months.  I knew he would do the best he could, but I also knew of the ruthlessness of Johnson’s men.

       Within the hour, Doc had splinted his wrist, but he said there wasn’t much he could do for the collarbone except to keep it in a sling.  He turned his gaze to me, “You did know that he had broken bones?”

       I pulled at my moustache before answering.  “I reckoned the wrist was broken, wasn’t sure about his shoulder,” I replied, then smiled.  “Sure kept him from causin’ any trouble.”

       Doc let out a snort and shook his head.  “I’ll be back in the morning to check on him,” he paused, giving me a stare.  “You are going to feed him, aren’t you?”

       “I’ll bring him his food, but he’ll have to feed himself,” I replied.

       It was time for me to head down to the diner.  I wanted to see Molly and tell her I was back, plus hoped that she might have a piece of pie for me.  I had settled down at the table sipping on coffee and talking with Molly.  It had probably been fifteen, maybe twenty minutes when gunfire sounded from…

Miles has arrested the corrupt marshal of Silverton and has been holding him in jail until the train departs for Durango.  During the night, the marshal’s deputies tried to break him from jail only to face the justice of Miles’ gun and their own folly.  Miles and Morgan Appleby, Wells Fargo agent, are in the process of identifying dead bodies while waiting for the doctor to appear.  It’s one hour until the train leaves the station.  Will Miles make it with his prisoner?  Join with me in another exciting tale from yesteryear.

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

       A man burst through the doorway, cursing when he saw the bodies.  I didn’t know him, I reckoned him to be the new doctor in Silverton.  After surveying the bodies on the floor he looked over at Morgan standing beside me, then his gaze went to me.  “I don’t know who you are, Mister, but Marshal Johnson will have your neck for this!”

       “He payin’ you?” I asked in a congenial manner.

       That stopped him for a moment, then he asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

       “Are you on the take?  Do you cover for Johnson and his deputies?” I replied, then added.  “I just want to know if I need to arrest you for being a part of Johnson’s crooked schemes.  Oh, and by the way, I’m Deputy United States Marshal Miles Forrest, and I have your marshal locked up and under arrest.”

       The doctor didn’t take well to that news.  “On what charge?”

       I pulled on my moustache, “Oh, murder, attempted murder, extortion, interfering with the duties of a federal officer, misuse of his office, and anything else I can think of before arraignin’ him in Durango.”

       He glanced out towards the street.  “You’ll play Hades getting him to Durango.”

       I gave him my best smile.  “Looks like it has already started.  Now, all I need for you is to identify these men by name.  Give them to Mr. Appleby here, then you can get on your way.  If I miss my guess, I think there are some wounded men about.”

       Morgan helped the doctor with the men lying on the floor.  The one who had been holding the dynamite was unrecognizable, but most likely was a deputy named Sawyer.  I looked up at the clock on the wall and was sort of surprised that it was still working.  I had less than an hour before the train would leave.  Time to be retrieving Johnson from his cell.

       “Why don’t you go ahead and leave, Morgan.  It’s time for me to take Johnson to the depot.”

       He wanted to help me, but I convinced him that he would only be a target.  I told him that I would leave the jailer locked up.  I wasn’t going to bother with him on this trip.

       Johnson was standing up by the bars when I walked in the cell room.  He only had one boot on, and I could see that when he moved he was in pain.  The wrist was definitely broken, and I wasn’t sure about the shoulder.

       “Where’s my boot?” he hollered.

       “You don’t need it,” I informed him.  “Just be careful of where you step.”

       “I need a doctor,” he moaned.

       “There’s a good one in Durango.  I’ll make sure he sees you.  Now let’s go.”

       We moved on through the cells out into the office which was now clear of men and only dead bodies lying on the floor.  When we came to the entrance I thrust the Greener up under his jaw.  “I see any of your men makin’ any kind of move and I pull the trigger.  Savvy?  It won’t be a pretty sight.”

       As we began to move down the boardwalk we gained quite a crowd, following and watching their town marshal limp down toward the station.  It was just in front of us when three men walked out in the street to stop our progress.  I pushed the barrel up under Johnson’s jaw.  I leaned toward him whispering, “Ever think that they might want you out of the way?”

       He tried to swallow.  I didn’t stop, but kept moving forward, the three men moved to the side two to one side and one to the other, causing me some discomfort.  I couldn’t watch them all.  They allowed us through, but now they were to my back.  I turned Johnson to the side making him walk sideways down the street.  He stumbled and almost fell causing the shotgun to dig into his throat.

       “Easy there, Marshal.  This gun almost went off.”

       We stepped onto the passenger car and entered.  I pushed Johnson down against the side of the car.  He let out a yelp, then a groan.  I wasn’t really concerned.  Looking out the window, I watched as two of the men walked to the front of the car and entered, sitting down in front.

       They had just sat when the train lurched, then proceeded to move on away from the station.  I sat down in the seat behind Johnson.  I surely hoped that the two wouldn’t start anything on the train as there were several passengers aboard–all their eyes in my direction.

       As the train started moving down the canyon, I thought to myself that this might prove to be an interesting trip, then smiled whispering a little prayer.  “Okay, Lord, You can stop stirrin’ things up now…