Do you ever feel overwhelmed by events and circumstances?  Miles has been racing from the Doc’s office, to the diner, to the jail, and all around town.  Now he has been summoned by Mateo’s son, Alejo, to hurry to the diner that Molly needs him.  Welcome back to those exciting days of yesterday.

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

       “What’s wrong?” I asked Alejo, rather sharply.  I hadn’t even noticed when Alejo had left the jail.  He had been sweeping up glass and talking with his father, when before I knew it he was running back from the diner.

       “I’m not sure, Senor Miles.  Yur wife, the Senora Miles said for me to get you quickly, so I came.”  We were not running, but walking at a hurried pace.  About halfway to the diner, Alejo turned to me, neither of us stopping.  “I think it has to do with Senora Marta.”

       Just what we need, I thought, then shamed myself for thinking like that.  I walked into the diner with Alejo following and was greeted by an apron thrown at me by Molly.  “Put that on, and get busy,” she commanded.  “Edith had to go with Doc.  Marta’s having her baby.”

       I gave her a puzzled look, then went over to place the Greener on the wall next to where I normally sit.  I was tying the apron on, when Molly came by.  “You take the left side of the room, I’ll take the right,” he said pointing.  Still seeing the look on my face, “I guess with all the excitement and stress it has caused the baby to come early.”

       Staring at her, I asked, “Is that a big problem?”

       Receiving a stern look, she replied, “It could be.  Now get busy!

       “Say, darlin’, we’d like some more coffee over here,” came a voice from a corner table.  I grabbed the pot and headed that way.  “Oh, Marshal, I didn’t recognize you with the dress on,” came the guffaw from Jed Fountain.  He was sitting there with Link Doyle and a couple of cowboys I didn’t know from the Lowell ranch.

       “One more remark like that Fountain and you’ll get a lap full of coffee,” I barked.  Fountain and Doyle were enjoying their little hurrah, but the other two cowboys were stone faced, not knowing whether to laugh, say something and join in, or leave the premises.  “At least your pards there know when to keep their mouths shut.”

       I was getting ready to say something else when another group of four walked in the room.  I was watching, wishing, and hoping that they’d go sit on Molly’s side of the room, and was quite relieved when they did.  Looking back at Fountain, “What is it with so many cowhands in town?  I know it’s not Saturday or Sunday, so I’m thinkin’ that your cheatin’ your boss out of his wages.”

       “They belong to Thomson.  I don’t know why they’re here,” spoke up Doyle.  “We came to pick up some feed and other supplies.”

       “Takes the four of you to rein a wagon now?” I said mocking them.  

       Fountain blushed a little.  I knew how cowboys felt about riding in a wagon when they thought they should have been hossback.  “We came in two wagons,” remarked Doyle.  “They’re bein’ loaded now.  Jed, here told the Boss that we’d ride in the wagons, but wouldn’t be loadin’ them up.”

       “Won’t you have to be doin’ the unloadin’?” I asked.

       “Mister Forrest, if you’ll stop of the lollygagging, there are tables to be cleared,” rang out the sharp voice of Molly.

       I glanced at her, saw the two men grin.  “You want another refill, you know where the pot’s at,” I said, then started to walk away.

       “Miles,” whispered Fountain, “what’s goin’ on here?”

       “Too long a story, needless to say that Molly needs help,” I informed them, then moved away not wanting to dally and incur the wrath of the boss.

       I had just finished cleaning off the two tables when three hardcases came in.  I glanced over at Fountain who gave a shrug of his shoulders.  They took a table toward the back and I wasn’t so fortunate this time.  They sat on my side.

       Grabbing menus I headed over to their table.  “You men like some coffee?”

       One of the men grabbed a menu and began to peruse it.  The other two turned their heads toward me, one scoffing.  “We want the other waitress,” he barked mockingly.

       “Well, mister, you got me.  Now do you want coffee or not?”

       The man sitting on the right had a scar over his left eye, and another one from his lip to his chin.  He tried to cover it up with a beard, but it seemed that the hair parted at the scar making it look more hideous.  “She’ll pour it!” he challenged.

       “She’s busy!  Now order, or get out.”

       “No man in an apron can throw me out!” he snarled.

       With that I had my pistol up under his left ear in less than a second.  “Get up!” I ordered, with a push of the barrel against the man’s head.  I sort of helped lift him with the gun.  “You two might as well go with him and lead the way.”

       Their eyes never left mine, as they got up and headed for the door.  I noticed the one who had sat on the left was itching pull his gun.  “You better hope he doesn’t,” I said to the man I was prodding.  “I’ll shoot you first then kill him.”

       They left the diner without any more incident, but Molly came over to me.  “Who were they?”

       “Trouble,” I replied.

       “As soon as Edith can rejoin me, Miles you’re fired,” she said somewhat seriously.

       “What happens if I just quit now?”

       Molly smiled, “You can’t.”

       “And just why can’t I?” I inquired.

       She flipped a wash towel at me, snapping me on the arm.  “Because I said so.”

       That brought a laugh from both tables of cowboys.  I knew when I was licked…

Things were busy in Doctor Henry Jones’ office the past few days.  Fred Dover was still unconscious, but Lucas was able to get up with only a concussion.  It seems like Miles was forever busy with his duties–duties of life as well as an officer of the law.  Let’s go back to those thrilling days of yesteryear and see what is up with Miles.

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

       As I stepped out of the diner I glanced toward Doc Jones’ office.  Lucas was in there, sleeping with a concussion.  The Parson was at the bedside of Fred Dover who was still unconscious when I left.  Sighing at the events that had recently taken place I started walking up the street to see what Darnelle wanted.  I walked straight to the jail first to peer inside.  Alejo was leaning against a broom listening to his father, Mateo.  I nodded at them, which Mateo returned with a slight wave of hand.  I was pleased that Alejo, young as he was, had been sweeping up the glass.

       Turning up the boardwalk towards Foster’s Mercantile I went to see Darnelle.  She was waiting on Mrs. Jansen as I walked in.  Taking off my hat, I looked in her direction to get her attention.  She nodded at me, “Let me finish up with Mrs. Jansen and I’ll be right with you.”

       I stood by the counter, just perusing at items in the glass case.  Mrs. Blackstone was with another customer at the back of the store.  It looked as if she was measuring off material for the lady whom I couldn’t make out from this distance with her back turned toward me.  A few minutes later, Darnelle and Mrs. Jansen moved up to the counter to pay for her goods.  

       Since my hat was already off, I nodded greetings to Mrs. Jansen who was holding a pair of braces in her hands along with a pair of pants.  “They’re for Ollie’s birthday,” she declared smiling.  “I know he can make the braces, but he deserves a store-bought pair.  And his pants get so dirty, and covered with grim and glue working in the shop.”

       Ollie was the only cobbler in town and he kept himself quite busy.  “Cornelia, he’ll be delighted,” cheered Darnelle, as she received the money for the purchase.  “Now when is his birthday again?”

       Cornelia Jansen was a good-natured, plump individual.  Not overly heavy, but she was not skinny by any means.  When I saw her and Ollie together I always thought of the nursery rhyme, Jack Sprat and his wife and reckoned that they must have looked like Cornelia and Ollie Jansen.

       When she left, Darnelle gave me an ominous look.  “Daddy’s getting worse,” she said stoically, then sighed.  “Doc Jones came over to visit and check on him last week, and told me that he only had a short time left.”

       “How’s Elizabeth takin’ the news?” I questioned.

       Darnelle shook her head.  “Not well,” she replied, with tears now forming in her eyes.  “I want to keep the store, but mother wants to move to Denver to live near her sister.”

       “What else?”  I asked sensing that there was more to her story.

       “Jessie has been such a dear and great help, but she told me that when school was out that she and Connor were going with her husband, Frank, to California,” she paused to take a breath.  “I don’t know if I can keep the store open by myself, and I really don’t want to move with mother to Denver.”

       I placed my hand on her shoulder.  “That’s almost two months, I’m sure you can find someone to help you by then.”

       She nodded reaching up to touch my hand with hers.  “That’s not what I wanted to see you about,” she hesitated, sniffling.  “Would you go see daddy?  I know you two had your outs, but he respects you, and I believe it would do him a world of good.”

       Wilson Foster was a good man, antagonistic at times when he was on the town council, but he was solid.  He had a stroke some months back which laid him up, but the last time I saw him…oh my, a good two months ago, he was doing better.  Two months, a person shouldn’t wait that long to speak to a friend in some fashion.  We were not close, we went to different churches, but I considered him a friend.

       I started to answer when Alejo peeked in the door.  “Uh, excuse me, Senor Marshal, the Senora needs you quickly!”

       Before I left to follow Alejo, I pulled Darnelle into a hug.  “It will be alright.  I’ll go see your daddy tomorrow.”  

       Releasing her, I went to the entrance and stepped out.  I looked up, breathing a little prayer, “Lord, be with me….”  Alejo was standing outside the jail with his hands on his hips as if to say, “Hurry!”

Senor Marshal, Lucas, he is asking for you,” came the anxious voice of Alejo.  “I’ll stay in the office until I hear from my father, or you come back.”

       I nodded then headed for the door.  I was a mite concerned over Lucas’ condition as he was carried out bloody and unconscious.  When I stepped on the boardwalk I looked both directions and to my left I saw Darnelle hurrying toward me.  “Miles, Miles, wait,” she hollered.

       A few more minutes wouldn’t make the difference, I hoped, so I stopped until Darnelle came up to me.  “I heard the shooting, is there anything I can do?”

       Sighing, I told her briefly what had happened.  “There was an attempted jail break, and durin’ it Lucas was shot.”

       Her right hand flew up to her mouth and she gasped, “Oh no!  I’ll be praying for him.  I know you’re in a rush, but when you get the time stop by, I must talk with you.”  I nodded, then stepped out into the street heading for Doc Jones’ office.

       I strode hurriedly down the street, thinking that we had sure kept him busy lately.  When I entered the outer office, Lucas was lying on the table that Doc uses to examine patients.  Mateo, Charlie, Parson Chapman were there along with Doc who was wrapping the head of Lucas.  I had just stepped up to the table when Marta burst through the door, crying and uttering fitful words of Spanish that I didn’t understand.  She pushed me out of the way and tried to get to Lucas.

       “Someone grab her!” yelled Doc.  “I need to finish up with Lucas and he doesn’t need to be manhandled right now.”

       Charlie stepped to grasp her, and she beat on his chest.  He then held her tight, speaking in her ear that Lucas was going to be alright, that Doc needed to finish his ministrations on him.  She settled down in his arms, watching Doc wrap a bandage around the head of Lucas which was already showing signs of blood seeping through.

       When he finished, he looked at Marta.  “Go ahead and talk with him, but don’t be grabbing and jerking him around.  His head is already pounding like a hammer had smashed it.”

       Marta pulled away from Charlie and stepped to the examining table.  Lucas was conscious though he kept his eyes squinted; he said the light bothered him.  Marta took his hand and began to weep.  “Hermana renuncio,” he barked.  “Escapar!”

       His eyes opened wider and he looked around.  “I want to see Senor Miles,” he informed all of us.  

       Marta sort of glared at me when I approached, but she backed off to the head of the table.  “I’m here, Lucas.”

       “I’m sorry I failed, Senor.  I tried.”

       “Failed!  Lucas, you did your job!”

       His eyes widened in surprise, then quickly shut tightly.  “I don’t understand…the prisoner…”

       “Easy, just take it easy.  The prisoner is in his cell.  You did good,” I told him.  “Now, rest, you’ve got a graze along the side of your head.”

       He gave a slight smile, then closed his eyes.  Marta pushed me away.  “Lucas!  Lucas!  Don’t die!”

       “Marta, he’s not going to die.  He’s sleeping, and that’s what he needs–rest!  Now all of you get!  I’ll watch over him.  He’s got a major headache with that concussion.”

       “Concussion?” questioned Marta giving Doc an angry look.

       “A hit on the head can cause what is called a concussion.  He’ll be alright,” replied Doc now with a calm voice.  “Now if you would all leave, I would appreciate it, and so would my patients.”

       I saw the Parson point toward the other room where Fred Dover was still lying unconscious and Doc nodded at him.  While the rest of us were leaving he went to see and pray for the other patient.

       “Tell Molly, if Marta is not capable of working, Edith can come over and help,” said Doc to which I gave a nod.

       I started to go see Molly, then stopped in the middle of the street to talk to Mateo telling him that Alejo was waiting for him.  He started up toward the jail.  I took a step that direction, but thought I should go see Molly before finding out what Darnelle needed.

       There were several customers at that time, and Molly was busy.  Marta, instead of going home, came in and started to work.  She only worked the noon and evening rush as she was ready to deliver.  I was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee, when Molly was able to get a break and sit with me.

       “Since you only own twenty percent of the diner you should be finding someone to work tables,” I said sort of kidding, but at the same time serious.

       “Right after Marta’s baby is born,” she replied.  “Now tell me about Lucas.”

       I told what had happened, from beginning to end.  Then said that Darnelle said she must talk to me…

The gunsmoke was still in the air after the attempt of Lige Donor to free his brother, Clem, from jail.  Young Lucas had been shot, and was perhaps dead.  Lige was dead, killed by the hands of his brother.  Now, let’s go back to those thrilling days of yesteryear to see what Miles will do after all this calamity.

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

       Clem Donor was sitting on the floor holding the head of his dead brother in his lap.  He was weeping not only due to the fact that his brother was dead, but that it was Clem that forced the action.  They were fighting over the pistol when it when off sending a bullet under the chin and through the head of Lige Donor.

       “Marshal,” cried Clem, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.  I told Lige to leave, but the boy had already been shot.”  Clem sobered up for a minute from his emotional state staring straight into my eyes.  “Was the boy dead?”

       “I don’t know.  Sheriff Gold picked up the body so fast and was out of here before I had time to check.”

       Donor began to weep again.  “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.  It was just to be a simple holdup, take some money and go south toward Santa Fe,” he paused to wipe the slobber off his mouth and chin.  “None of us had ever kilt no one before, not me, not Fred, not Lige.  Why, did it happen this way?”

       “Clem, when a person turns towards evil ways, there’s no tellin’ what may happen.  A lie becomes a landslide, a holdup becomes a murder.  Why, because of evil,” I paused to look him in the eye.  “If you had not tried to rob the diner, your brother would still be alive.”

       He dropped his head continuing to weep.  “I need to get you back into your cell,” I said and started to reach underneath his arm to hoist him up.

       “Marshal, could I stay with Lige until they take him away?” he pleaded.  “I won’t try anything.”

       I didn’t reckon it would do any harm, Parker would be here in a few minutes.  It was then I heard the shuffling outside the jail.  Folks were trying to peer inside.  All I felt was disgust as I went to the door and slammed it in their faces.  I even hoped that perhaps a couple of them snoopers got their noses smashed up some.

       It must have been ten minutes before Parker arrived.  He had to push people away, many were gawking through the windows trying to see a dead man, lying in his blood on the floor.  I gave a wry smile, as the undertaker of death arrived at the same time as the giver of hope in Rev. Chapman.

       Parker had two men with him carrying a stretcher and he quickly had them take the body of Lige Donor out of the office.  I pulled the parson to the side while Parker did his work.  He pronounced the body dead, then the men left.  I didn’t move as Clem slowly pulled himself to his feet and went back to his cell dragging his feet.  He shut the door then went over to the cot and slumped down on it.

       I could see the concern in the Parson’s eyes, so I briefly told him what happened.  He grabbed my arm with his hand.  “The man is distraught, Parson,” I said quietly.

       “No wonder,” came his soft reply.  “May I go speak with him?”

       Nodding I told him he could go in the cell with Donor.  I’d stay in the office until things settled down.  I didn’t hear what the preacher was saying.  He was holding onto the hand of Donor, and after a short while, he began to pray with the man.  I turned to look out the window, thinking I should give them some privacy.  I knew for a fact that only the Lord could help the poor man.

       Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, I saw Alejo, Mateo’s oldest son running toward the jail.  By this time the crowd outside had dispersed, and he came on through the door.  “Senor, Marshal, come quickly.  Lucas…”