Two-Bits, Molly’s horse, has been stolen.  There has been a gunfight at the jail in Durango and one of the miscreants has been captured.  The crooked marshal of Silverton is waiting trial or escape, but it seems that only one of his men has remained loyal, the others fleeing or lying in the street dead.  Miles has followed Lark Collins up the Animas Canyon and has stayed the night at a small hotel in Hermosa.  What will the dawn bring?  Success or more trouble?  Come with me to see the old west opened up with the Saga of Miles Forrest.

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

       It was cold the next morning and I hated the thought of getting out from under the covers.  The fire in the little stove had gone out, I could see ice on the window and the air was frosty.  As I got out of bed I began to shiver so I hurriedly put on my clothes.  I wasn’t planning on staying so I didn’t take the time to make a fire but went on my way downstairs where I reckoned it would be warm.

       Right next to the hotel was a small cafe that also housed a saloon.  The cold took my breath away when I stepped outside so I hastened to the cafe.  This was only November but it felt like January outside.  Hawk was not going to relish riding out in this temperature.  

       Even before I sat, the waitress had coffee on the table for me.  “You want the special or the small order?” she chirped.  She was happy, and I thought that she must not have come in from the outside.  

       Placing the cup between both hands warming them, I replied, “Go ahead with the special.”

       Thirty minutes and three eggs, a dozen pieces of bacon, and a plateful of pancakes later, I was up putting my coat on to go get Hawk.  I ate plenty, so my body was fueled up, and I hope that Hawk had been fed properly.  It was a cold job waiting for us.

       Finding Hawk in good shape, I mounted, pulled down my hat, and pulled up the collar on my coat.  Since snow had fallen last night, not much – about four inches, but it was plenty to hide any tracks left by Two-Bits; I had to follow my senses.  There’s a verse that is one of my favorites, “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord.”  That was going through my mind, for to find this crook I was going to need His guidance.

       It was cold, the temperature way below freezing and there was a goodly breeze blowing down from the north.  Hawk ducked his head, then moved out in a trot until we were out of the little community where I brought him to a walk.  There were several cabins on up the road, I had visited several in my time in Durango as a peace officer, but it seemed that there were always new ones springing up.  Collins could be in any one of them.

       Stopping at the first three, I was told that nary a soul had ventured their direction yesterday.  I was told that there was a cabin down by the river an mile or so ahead that was vacant.  I’d head there.

       We’d been out a little less than two hours, when Hawk stopped, his ears perking up and he gave a snort.  He and I had rode many trails together, and I knew to trust him, so I gave him his head to lead out.  With the wind coming from the north, he must have caught a scent of something.  He moved on towards a game trail that would lead on down to the river.  There was a one-room shack, not the one I was told about.  

       Then I saw movement, Hawk did as well and headed for it.  Behind the shack on the leeward side stood Two-Bits, still with bridle and saddle on.  The anger riled up in me to leave my good horse out like that all night, any horse for that matter.  As we grew closer I noticed there wasn’t any smoke coming from the shack, nor was there a light inside.  Hawk moved right up next to Two-Bits who did not even acknowledge him.  Dismounting, I held the Greener in my left hand, and went to check on Two-Bits.  The little mare was all right, cold for sure and I needed to get him to a stall and some food.  Hawk moved closer and she must have felt some heat coming from him and nudged in right next to him.

       I moved up to the door, there was a window, but it was too dark inside for me to see.  Breathing a deep sigh, I kicked open the door and rushed in.  On the floor lay a man, no coat, no blanket.  I nudged him with the barrel of the Greener and found no movement.  Glancing at the little fireplace I could see that a fire hadn’t been made in it for some time.  Bending over the man he looked bluish, but I couldn’t tell if he was alive or frozen to death.  

       Going quickly back to Hawk, I took off my bedroll bringing it into the shack and wrapped the man up in it.  I hated to put Two-Bits through this, but I had to throw him over the saddle and tie him down.  Twenty minutes later we were headed back to Hermosa.  I didn’t bother stopping at any of the cabins, for there wouldn’t be any room for us, nor was there any stable for Hawk and Two-Bits.

       It was a cold ride back to Hermosa and the livery…

Miles’ cabin had been broken into, and from the looks of it Two-Bits, Molly’s horse had been stolen.  Could it be the man that Miles was after, the crooked deputy of Todd Johnson, Lark Collins?  Come with me now as we follow the trail of Miles Forrest as he seeks to retrieve the stolen horse and bring the culprit to justice.

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

       Noticing the saddle was gone from the tack room and that Two-Bits was missing from the pasture I had to surmise that she had been stolen.  I also didn’t like the fact that the sanctity of our home had been violated with the break in, besides the eating of our food.  It seemed to fit that this was the man I had been looking for.

       Going back to the cabin I found Molly cleaning up the place.  She said that she couldn’t find anything missing, but then stomped her foot, “The audacity of coming in uninvited to eat our food!”  

       I had to smile at her indignation.  “Pack me up some food for the trail.  He’s stolen Two-Bits,” I said matter-of-factly.  “I’ll need enough for a couple of days.”

       She sighed and nodded.  I went back out to round up one of my horses.  I thought about taking Star.  If he headed west, Star would catch up quickly.  On the other hand, if I had to move slowly, and  up into the mountains, Hawk would be a better choice.  Looking around, letting my inner senses work, I decided on Hawk.  If anything I figured that Lark would try to make it back to Silverton.  He might try to board the train at Hermosa.

       By the time I’d saddled Hawk and walked him back to the cabin, Molly had a sack of food for me, my bedroll, and handed me my heavy coat.  “If you’re headed north or east you might need this,” she said, then looked up at the sky.  “This is November, and I sense a storm coming.”

       I nodded in agreement not knowing if she meant an actual storm or one that would happen when I caught up with the thief.  Taking the sack from her hand I wrapped the cord tying it to the saddle horn with my canteen on the other side.  Mounting up I moved back to the stalls where I would pick up the tracks of Two-Bits.  She would be easy to follow, I knew her tracks by heart and she had a short stride.  

       The man didn’t try to hide his tracks but headed on out toward the river and north.  Since I knew the tracks of Two-Bits I could follow at a fairly good pace.  I had been out for an hour and was moving up the canyon when the temperature seemed to all of a sudden drop and the wind picked up.  Twenty minutes later snow gently began to fall I stopped to don my sheepskin coat.  It would be dark before reaching Hermosa.  If I didn’t catch up with him before getting there at least I wouldn’t have to sleep outside in the cold.

       Watching carefully, I figured that the tracks might head off toward one of the ranches in the area, but no, they kept plodding north.  With the storm beginning to develop, darkness swept down rapidly.  It was dark when I saw a few lights in homes and buildings in Hermosa.  It was a small town, built to supply the railroad.  It only made sense that Lark would find refuge somewhere in the little community. 

       I went first to the little livery in the town to check if Two-Bits was there, and then to find a stall for Hawk for the night.  The hostler said that no one had come by and that he would grain and water Hawk.  He informed me that there wasn’t another livery in the town but that a couple of places had small corrals–the hotel and the mercantile to which he pointed.

       To get to the hotel I had to pass the store, so I checked the corral behind it.  Nothing.  I ventured on to the hotel and before entering to get a room, I went to the corral in the back.  Again, no horses.  I couldn’t follow the tracks in the dark if he decided to continue north.  There were small groups of houses further north, eight miles or so, but I didn’t think he was that far ahead of me.  By the time I entered the hotel, the wind was beginning to gust harder and the snow came down faster.  I didn’t feel so sorry for the man if he decided to camp out in it as I did for Two-Bits.  The man should have more sense.

       There was a small cafe in the hotel and after securing my room I went for a bite to eat.  After a dinner of venison stew I went up to my room.  The hotel was small, only ten rooms, but each one of them had a small fireplace with wood stacked next to it.  The snow was coming down regular, and the temperature was dropping rapidly.  It took a minute or so, but soon I had a fire going.

       Pulling off my boots I laid on top of the bed, pulling my Bible from the saddlebag.  Now, I’m not one to try to throw a fleece before the Lord, but He has done so many wonderful and amazing things for me in the past, when my finger touched a verse it seemed to tingle.  “In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”  I knew that verse by heart, but it seemed to blaze within my soul.  Laying the Bible down on my chest I gazed up toward the ceiling and smiled…

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…