The Saga of Miles Forrest

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
The man was leaning toward one side, and grimaced as he took a step.  As he got to the table where we were sitting he opened his coat revealing a rifle cocked and ready to fire.  Nodding at Molly, he said, “I hear that you’re the proprietor of this establishment.”
       Molly nodded, then the man continued.  “I don’t want to hurt anybody or cause any trouble, but I’d like some grub for me and the boys to take along with us,” there was a pause.  “And I hate to have to ask, but I want all the money you have on hand.  It’s nothing personal, mind you, but me and the boys are in a bad fix.”
       I noticed all the time he was talking to Molly, but he kept his eyes on me.  “Now, Marshal, I know that you’re a-hankering to pull that hogleg you’re carrying.  Please don’t.  I really don’t want to bloody up this establishment needlessly.”
       “Mister, what’s your problem?  Maybe I can be of help.” I replied, placing both hands on the table.  Looking around the room I saw where the men were placed.  There was no way I could get all three men.
       He laughed at my suggestion.  I continued to talk as Molly got up and went to the kitchen.  “If you’re hurt, this here is Doc Jones.  He’s a fine doctor.  If it’s your soul that needs healing, the other man seated here is the Rev. Chapman.  Between the three of us we should be able to help in one way or another.”
       “Marshal, you’re mighty considerate, but there’s not much any of you can do to help the likes of me or the boys.  As soon as we get a bite to eat, the money, and some food to take along we’ll leave your fair town.”
       Molly had Emelda bring out three plates of biscuits covered with gravy.  The man by the kitchen motioned for her to set one on the table in front of him, then told her to take a plate to the man at the door, and one over to the table next to us.  He then sat down placing his pistol on the table and began to eat.  The man at the door did the same while the one talking with us stood there watching and waiting.
       “What’s your name, Mister?” I asked, wanting to know who was holding a gun on me.
       A slight smile came to his face.  “Fred Dover, Marshal.  It mean anything to you?”
       I nodded my head.  “I’ve heard the name.  Robbed a bank up at Gunnison and another toward Montrose.  What I don’t understand is why did you come back south and not keep goin’ into Utah?”
       “The boys, Clem and Lige Donor, wanted to see their home down near Santa Fe.  Plus my bones don’t cotton to cold weather.  Usually warmer down toward New Mexico.”
       The other two ate in a hurry and were now back on their feet.  Emelda and Molly had packed three bags of food for them, placing them on the table by the man by the kitchen who I assume was Clem Donor.  Molly had a small sack of money that Dover motioned for her to place on the table by his plate and told her to sit there.  He glanced at the other two and they had their guns out.  Dover laid the rifle on the table picked up the plate and began to shovel the food into his mouth.
       When he finished, he nodded at Molly thanking her.  “Sorry folks for the inconvenience, but we have to run.”
       He started to back out, then gave out a shrill cry of pain, falling to the floor.  I jumped to my feet, pulling my gun as Clem Donor hollered, “Fred!”
       Fred Donor was on the floor curled up, his face etched in pain.  My gun was on Clem Donor.  I yelled, “Lige, don’t do anything stupid!”
       When I said that I saw him out of the corner of my eye…

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
Doc was sitting there waiting for Molly to answer him.  I pulled out her chair for her to sit down, while she pulled off her coat.  She winked at me then took a sip of the coffee I had poured for her.  I could see that Doc was getting agitated waiting for Molly to answer.
       “Oh, I’m sorry, Doc, did you ask something?” she said with a slight giggle.
       “Young lady, you know good and well I asked you something!  Now, if I may ask, and if it is any of my business, why did you go see Lester Morris?”
       It was then I decided to pipe in, “Molly, as ornery as Doc is, I’d just not tell him.  For that I received a scowl.
       “I was waiting until I could tell you and Edith at the same time.  “I’m giving thirty percent of the diner to Emelda.  I’m just going to work the books and do the ordering.”
       “Well, why didn’t you say so instead of playing around?  What does she think about it?”
       Molly glanced over at me.  “I haven’t told her yet.  I thought that we could all get together after the supper rush and I’d have her sign the papers.  Morris said he could be here then, and I want Charlie and Marta here after all she is part owner.  I’ve already shared it with her.”
       “Yes,” Doc nodded for her to continue.  “She didn’t know what to say.  She said it was too much, that I didn’t have to do it.  I told her if I had to do it, I probably wouldn’t,” then she laughed, handing me her cup to refill.
       Doc scratched at his ear, then on the side of his cheek.  “Let me get this straight.  You’re semi-retiring,” he said, pointing at Molly.  He then squinted his eyes to look at me, “And you’re retiring.  Have I got this right?”
       That brought a loud guffaw from Molly.  She started to reply when Doc held up his hand stopping her.  “What I want to know is, who will make the pies?  And you, you have no right to quit the calling that the good Lord has placed upon you.  So what if you’re a little heavier because of the lead you’re carrying in you,” he snickered, “they might even start to bounce off.”
       “What’s that I hear about retiring?”
       Rev. Chapman had walked up on us and none of us saw him approach.  “Sit yourself down, let these two tell you some of the foolishness that they’ve been thinking up,” quipped Doc.
       Molly proceeded to tell him the plans for the diner.  He nodded his head several times and once in a while smiled.  “That sounds wonderful, Molly, but I do have to ask, who will make the chocolate pies that I so favor?”
       That brought another laugh, but then the preacher grew solemn and stared at me.  “However, Miles, I trust that you have done some serious praying about your decision.  I believe the calling of an officer-of-the-law is almost as important as that of a minister.  You have better be sure you’ve heard from the Lord before doing so,” he admonished, almost making me feel guilty.
       I explained the situation to Parson Chapman.  He nodded, listening quietly and seriously.  “I can understand some of that reasoning, but hasn’t the Lord always pulled you through?”
       “There’s one more thing I think you should consider,” he began when three men walked through the door.  I was no longer listening to the preacher, but my instincts honed in on those three.  Two stood close to the door, while the third walked toward the table where we were sitting.  I loosened the thong from the hammer of my pistol and pulled it from the holster keeping it under the table.  Something wasn’t right…

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
So, you’re sure that’s the course you want to take?” questioned Doc Jones.
       We had just finished a breakfast of biscuits and gravy with a couple of fried eggs on top.  Emelda had also fried up some bacon for us.  Charlie had gone back up to Silverton on today’s train.  He wanted to check on the situation and see those who were wounded, on both sides of the fight.  Joe Hoskins said that he would personally take charge helping those who were injured.  Dr. Mort Sjaster had moved to Silverton taking the place of Wilbur Webb who had a questionable death.  Terrell Davenport, a veterinarian, had been the acting doctor.  Judge Broomfield would be here sometime in late January, depending on the weather and would hear the case.  Our county judge, Judge Klaser, thought that the case had federal implications.
       “I’m sure leanin’ that way, Doc,” I replied to his earlier question.  
       “That will be quite a change for you,” he said, pausing to take a sip of coffee.  “Miles, I think you better go slow and think this thing through very carefully.”
       “Doc, I’ve always wanted to raise some horses, maybe a few head of cattle.  Maybe this is the time to do so.  I still owe a wild horse hunt over in Utah to Lot Smith.  I could follow up on it.  Besides, every time I go out to hunt an outlaw there’s always a chance I won’t come back.  You’ve seen the scars on my body, and there’s plenty more unseen ones,” I said placing a fist on my chest.
       Doc scratched the side of his face.  “Have you stopped to think that every time you ride a horse, you could get throwed and break your neck?  Or you could be riding along a trail and your horse stumble and fall crushing you underneath.  Or a rattler could scare it and the horse could throw you breaking your back?  Why, just walking across the street, you could get run over by a buckboard out of control.”
       “Yeah, yeah, I know all of that.  Maybe I’m just weary.”
       The doctor scratched underneath his chin this time.  “Take a break.  Take Molly to Santa Fe or Denver.”
       “We just came back from Denver, and she didn’t care much for the place,” I informed him.  “Let me go see if there’s some pie in the kitchen.”
       I got up, walked to the kitchen where I found some custard pie, and one piece of butterscotch.  I cut a piece of the custard, and would give Doc the choice.  Either one would be fine with me, but I would much prefer the butterscotch.  As I was walking back to the table with the pie, Molly walked through the door, or I should say, sauntered.  She was happy, and carrying a large grin on her face.
       “Well, that’s done,” she said as she removed her coat hanging it on the back of her chair.  She took the scarf off her hair and laid it on top of the coat, then proceeded to use her fingers to puff up her hair some.
       I placed the pie on the table, then went to get the coffeepot.  I grabbed a cup for Molly on the way, and filled it, then poured fresh coffee in our cups.  Doc looked at me, then to Molly.  “What’s done?”
       “I just came back from seeing Lester Morris.  Judge Klaser referred me to him,” she replied, before taking a drink of her coffee.  She arched an eyebrow at me along with a slight scowl right after she swallowed.
       “Morris, the lawyer?  What for?
       “There are some plans in the making for the new year.  I’ve decided…”

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on

Well, at least you made it back before Christmas,” stated Molly firmly.  She looked at myself and Charlie, both us a little dilapidated sitting by the fire.  She arched her eyebrow and continued.  “Don’t look like you’ll be much use tomorrow for the Christmas dinner.  I don’t think there will be as many as there were on Thanksgiving.”
       Charlie and I came back on the last train out on Christmas Eve.  It was late when we got back to the station.  I helped Charlie to his home, then trudged on up to our cabin.  I had to bang on the door several times before Molly got up to answer it.  Sometimes when she gets to sleep there’s almost nothing that will wake her.  The cabin felt warm and cozy after being in that rail car for several hours, then out in the cold and snow taking Charlie home, then sludging through it to get home.  I added a couple more logs to the fire and sat down in front of it, slowly taking off my boots and outer clothes.
       “Want me to boil some water?  I’ll make some tea,” exhorted Molly as she went to the barrel to get water for the kettle.
       “Tea?” I questioned, but then decided it sounded good.  “Yes, tea sounds good.”  I’m normally a coffee drinker whenever it’s available, but once in a while a cup of tea hits the spot.  I was shivering when the water started to boil, I added another log to build up the fire.  The cold had worked its way into my bones it seemed.
       “You look a fright.  Let me get some cloth and clean you up some,” she offered, then went to light up the two lamps in the room.  “It was bad, then?”
       I hadn’t felt my bruises, because I was so cold, but when she put the cloth she had wetted on the gash on my brow, I winced.  “Be still, there’s dirt in there, I need to clean it out.”  Out gently as she knew how she began to wash out my injury.  “How’s Charlie?  I do hope you brought him home, Marta has been in a tizzy.”
       “He’ll make out.  He was already injured when I arrived.  I found him on a cot in a vacant warehouse that was being used by miners and their families.  He had dislocated his left shoulder and was thumped on the head by someone, but he was conscious and not bleedin’ anywhere.”
       “Want to talk about it?” she asked.  “They really didn’t evict those poor people just before Christmas and in this horrible weather,” she wondered out loud, not really asking a question.
       I gave her a sorta smile before answering.  “Well?  What happened?”
       “When I arrived, I was taken to Charlie.  There had been a struggle.  It seems that Hoskins and that lawyer, Wilson, had hired a bunch of thugs to clear out the houses.  There was quite a fight; Charlie tried to put it down when he was slugged on the head with a blackjack.  Welsh miner by the name of Bryn Evans brought me the contract to the house,” I said to stop so I could take several sips of the hot tea.  Molly had been able to put just a dab of honey in it.  My bones were beginning to warm up.
       “There was a clause that read that if the miners were fired or laid off, that they didn’t have to leave their homes for ninety days.”
       “But you said, they were forced out!” she interrupted.

       Lifting the cup to my mouth I took a long swallow this time as it had cooled off some.  “The next mornin’ I went to see Hoskins regarding the contract and was met by a couple of burly men, not miners, but hired men used to fightin’.  They let me in to see Hoskins when I showed them my marshal’s badge.  That weasel Wilson was there with him.  I told them about the clause, but all Wilson did was laugh.  He said, ‘that’s intended just like it said, for men fired or laid off, not for those who quit their jobs.'”
       I took another swallow emptying the cup.  “Molly, it took all I could to not slap him silly.  Some folk are just an irritant, and he was one of them.  Hoskins hadn’t said anything, and every time he tried he was shut down by Wilson, reminding him that he spoke for the owners.  He followed me out of the office, and as I stood between the two burly men I told him, that I was allowin’ the miners to go back to their homes until a court could decide the issue.”
       “‘Marshal, this doesn’t concern the federal system.  Don’t try to put those miners back in those houses!’ which sounded like a threat to me.  I happened to notice him noddin’ so I jammed the barrel of the Greener as hard as I could into the gut of one of the brutes, then brought the stock up catchin’ the other one under the chin, he fell hard off the steps.”
       “More tea?” she asked as she reached for my cup.  I nodded, then continued with the story.
       “I went back to gather the families to tell them to move back in when a miner came runnin’ into the warehouse.  ‘Marshal, they’re comin’ for yuh!’  I checked the loads in the Greener then my pistol.  I told the miners to stay in the warehouse, that I’d take care of the situation.”
       “What I hadn’t counted on was a couple of dozen, hardcases comin’ my direction with Lawyer Wilson in the lead.  I started toward them and noticed that Charlie was up next to me.  I told him to go back that he was in no condition, but he said that his right arm wasn’t hurt.  I smiled at him, and we went to meet them ready to smite them hip an’ thigh which we ended up doin’.”
       Molly handed me the cup full of tea.  It was a little sweeter this time as she had set the honey jar next to the fireplace and it had softened considerably.  “I’m tired,” I informed her.
       “Miles Forrest, you’re not stopping until you tell the rest of the story!”
       “I lifted the Greener and the crowd stopped.  A double-barrel shotgun will have that effect.   I told them to go home, told them of the situation, the contract.  They didn’t care.  They were hired by Wilson in lieu of the owners.  Molly, I warned them, I sincerely did.  I even told Wilson that he would face the first blast from the Greener.  He hollered, ‘Shoot them down!’  My first barrel caught him and those next to him about chest-high.  Gun-firing had commenced, and I hadn’t realized that the miners hadn’t obeyed my order for they were behind me shootin’ back at the thugs.  I cut loose with the second barrel then pulled my pistol after droppin’ the shotgun.  From then on it was ‘Katy-bar-the-door’; it was mayhem.  When all was done, probably close to ten people were dead and several others injured.  I saw movement from Wilson which surprised me.  He raised his arm as I approached.  His eyes were glassy, as he opened his mouth, but nothin’ came out, he died lookin’ up at me.”
       I handed Molly my cup.  “Could you get a blanket for me, please.  I’m still cold,” I said looking into her face.  “The good Lord was sure protectin’ me and Charlie.  Neither of us caught a bullet, and the miners are back in their homes.  Joe Hoskins agreed to meet with Bryn Evans to discuss what might be done.
       She covered my shoulders with a blanket, then put her hands on top of them…