We were headed to Knaught’s place of business when I spied the spire of a little white church around the corner and down the block.  Most ministers, if they’re worth their salt, know the happenings in a town of this size.  As we walked toward the church I asked Elfego if he knew where the pastor lived.
       For that I received a puzzled look.  “Pastor, preacher, do you know where he lives?” I asked rather curtly.  “Elfego, you do go to church?”

       “Si, maybe, once in a while.  The padre, when he sees me he bemoans my fate because I do not often attend,” came a rather sheepish reply.

       “Where are your parents?  Don’t they make you go?” I kept questioning as we neared the steps that led up to the front door.  

       As I put one boot on the steps, he hesitated to go up with me.  “What’s wrong?  Is there something about this preacher you don’t like?”

       He seemed a bit squeamish, something I hadn’t seen in him before.  He would shrug one shoulder, then the other then got a sour look on his face.  “What is it?” I asked firmly.

       “This man, this preacher, makes me uncomfortable.  I’ve only seen him a few times, but he makes me, how can I put it, itch inside,” he replied.  “I’ll wait for you here.”

       I put my hand behind his shoulder and sort of pushed him forward a bit.  “We’re in this together, and I want you to hear what he says.  Maybe he can shed some light on what is going on.”  The door was unlocked so we entered.  I looked around for a room that might be used for an office.  Entering the sanctuary, I hollered, “Hello, I’d like to talk to the Preacher.  Hello!”

       To the back, off to the left of the pulpit area a door opened and I could see the light behind it.  A man emerged, rather tall, but thin, dressed in a suit, but without a jacket.  He waved at us to come to him.

       “Hello, Sir,” he said with genuine sincerity as if he was really happy to see us.  “Ah, I recognize you,” he said to Elfego, reaching out his hand to him first.  “I’ve seen you all around town.  You’re Francisco Baca’s son.”

       I could tell that Elfego was surprised.  “You know my father?”

       “Not well, but we have spoken a few times,” the preacher replied, then turned to shake my hand.  “And you, Sir.  Who do I have the honor of meeting?”

       He firmly gripped my hand as I responded.  “Deputy U.S. Marshal Miles Forrest, and I just wanted to ask you a few questions if I may intrude on your time.”

       “Reverend Claude Sinclair, and yes, yes come into my office if you want, or we can sit here,” he said by introduction.  He looked me over then back to Elfego, and I saw him smile.  We chose to sit on the front pew of the church.  Elfego made sure to sit on the other side of me away from the preacher.

       “You know Elfego?” I asked out of curiosity.

       He continued to smile.  “Yes, they were living up in Kansas, Topeka I believe when his mother died,” he stopped to look at Elfego.  “What was it, Elfego, two, three years ago?  His father is the sheriff over in Belen and Elfego spends much of his time here in Socorro doing odd jobs.”

       I glanced over at Elfego before asking the preacher any more questions.  He didn’t look at me, just stared straight ahead, looking at the cross that was on the wall.  “Reverend, what can you tell me about a ring that is pestering, and sometimes beating merchants in town?  I’ve been sent to search for a man named Grady Stinson, but no one seems to have heard of him or they are keeping it very quiet.”

       “He does not know?” the preacher inquired.  “If he doesn’t know, I don’t think I can add anything to it.  Elfego here is quite the investigator, and to answer your question I haven’t heard of a Grady Stinson.  However, there is a group who strong-arms the merchants into paying them a, what I call, an extortion fee.”

       I nodded at him to go on.  “A Mr. Anton Knaught has put up an insurance company in which he required all the merchants in town to be part of.  So far he hasn’t bothered the church, but they must pay a fee to protect their property.  If for some reason they refuse or don’t pay, they find within a few days that there is some kind of destruction to their place of business.  Mr. Knaught is sure to remind them that if they would have paid, their damages would have been covered by his policy.”

       The preacher was to my liking.  He reminded me of our minister back in Durango, Dale Chapman.  We talked a little longer, but his information was all I needed.  Normally, this would have been a job for the town marshal, but from what I had gathered and what Rev. Sinclair had added, there was indeed extortion going on and that the marshal was heavily involved with it.  However, with New Mexico still being a territory I had considerable jurisdiction.

       Elfego had been very quiet, and he only nodded when the pastor told him goodbye and prayed that the Lord would bless him.  Outside, on the steps, he looked back at the now closed church.  “Miles, do you know why there is not the figure of a man on the crucifix in that church?”

Marshal, you lay a finger on that boy, and you’ll have worse than a broke arm,” I warned him while raising the Greener ready to strike.  “If it wasn’t for him, who knows what might have happened, perhaps a dead U.S. Marshal for you to explain.”

       He scowled then said, “I don’t want that Mex kid in my office.  He doesn’t come in here unless it’s to spend time in one of those cells.”  He paused to look at Elfego, then began his little tirade again.  “And I don’t reckon it’ll be long before he pays a visit.  Now get him out of here!”

       I was doing all I could to stay calm, but I was ready to give Marshal Udall a good thump or two.  I nodded at Elfego, and he turned to leave.  However, he stopped at the entrance to look at Udall.  “I won’t come here again, Marshal,” he said, then smiled.  “Until the time it becomes my office.”

       With that he walked out.  I thought that the Marshal was fit to be tied.  If I hadn’t been standing there he would have gone after the boy.  I waited a few seconds before asking to see Adams, his prisoner.

       “What for?” he asked, still in a snarling mood.  “This is town business, not federal and I’d ask you to stay out of my affairs.”

       He was getting closer and closer to a thump, but I stayed cool.  “I just want to ask him about the extortion business he’s involved with.”

       “You’re crazy!” barked Udall.  “What extortion?”

       I tried to stare daggers into him, but he wouldn’t meet my eye.  “Marshal, either you don’t know your town very well, or perhaps you’re involved in it…”  I let that statement hang watching for his reaction.

       There was none, or very little.  “Go ahead, ask Adams your questions.  He was seeing a federal marshal hassle his friends so he came to help them.”

       “Hmmm, that’s mighty interesting.  He tell you that, Marshal?  He couldn’t even see me inside the store and his friends were still outside trying to gain entrance when the shooting started.”  Upon seeing him lying on the cot, smoking, his hat half pulled down over his face.  After inhaling and removing the smoke I could see an arrogant look on his face.  I turned around to reach for the keys.

       When I opened the cell door, he jumped up, his hat flying off to the floor.  The arrogance was gone and replaced by fear.  “You, you can’t…”

       “Can’t what?” I questioned.  I slapped the barrel of the Greener into the palm of my left hand.  “I just want to ask a few questions.”

       He had now gotten up and backed himself into the corner.  “You ought not to intimidate a prisoner,” he whimpered.

       “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Mister.  I just want to know who you’re workin’ for.”

       He looked down, looked around, looked at my shotgun, looked at the ceiling, even looked for help from Udall, but he never would look directly at me.  He finally spoke, but it was so low I couldn’t hear him.  “Out of work, don’t work for nobody,” he said in a croaky voice.

       I smiled, then imparted a few words of wisdom.  “I’m goin’ to visit your friends, an’ if they give me a story different from yours, well, let’s just say it won’t go well for you.  I can’t abide liars.”

       As I stepped from the cell, he hollered, Anton Knaught, Insurance, Security, and Protection Services.  It’s three blocks down, around the corner from the Shady Nook Saloon.”

       Remaining at the door to the cell just having closed it, I inquired, “What about Stinson?  Who is he?”

       He shrugged his shoulders, and had a puzzled look on his face.  I tipped my hat with the end of the barrel, “Be seein’ you.”

       I walked out hanging the keys back on the hook and on out the door not bothering to look at Udall.

       A half block away, Elfego was sitting on a bench in the shade.  He didn’t move as I approached him.  “Can you show me Anton Knaught’s office?”

       He didn’t answer, but looked up at me with a somber face.  “Marshal Forrest, you don’t think of me as a little kid, do you?”

       It had bothered him when I called him a boy back in the marshal’s office.  I sat down on the bench beside him.  “No, you’re not a little kid, or a little boy either.  You’ve got some growin’ to do, some learnin’ to do, but you handled yourself like a man back in the store,” I said, then frowned at him.  “I don’t know how it happened, but one thing I should tell you is that I don’t cotton to anyone takin’ my gun from my holster.  Savvy?”

       There came upon his face that large grin.  “Sorry, but it seemed the thing to do at the time.”

Phooey!” yelled Marshal Udall.  “You can tell me down at the office.  What about these others, Doc?”

       The doctor looked at his future patients, then muttered, “The others need to come down to my place so I can work on them properly.  These two men have lost quite a bit of blood, so has Mr. Green.”

       “Forrest, you come with me,” ordered Udall with a snarl.

       I looked at the men; they may have lost blood, but I know what a cornered skunk can do.  “Who’s goin’ to see after this men?  Take their testimony?”

       Udall had an angry look on his face.  He turned to his deputy, “Case, think you can watch over those men?”

       Deputy Case was in pain from where my shotgun crashed down on his arm breaking it.  He glanced at the men now being carried out and down to the doctor’s office.  “I imagine I can handle it.”

       “Good!” exclaimed the doctor, as he was escorting Mr. Green to the entry.  “Come over here and help me.”

       “Doc, my arm’s broke,” he whimpered.  “I can’t be helping anyone.  It hurts just to take a step.”

       The doctor stood with Mr. Green at the entrance waiting for all of us to leave so that Green could lock up his place.  “You think it hurts now,” he snapped, “You just wait ’til I start working on it if you don’t get over here and help me.”

       I had to bring my hand to my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.  Here was the tough, boisterous deputy whining.  I was just a-waiting for him to break out in tears.  But then I looked at his arm beginning to swell.  I reckoned it did hurt some.

       Marshal Udall was outside with Adams waiting for the place to clear and for me and Elfego to walk out.  We were the last to leave.  I watched the doctor, along with the deputy and Green stumble over to his office.  

       “You two come with me!” commanded the Marshal.

       “Go on along, we’ll be down shortly,” I told the Marshal.

       “I said now,” he almost screamed.  He put his hand on the butt of his gun.  

       When someone, like this belligerent marshal orders me to do something it sort of makes me want to tighten my cinch.  I stared at him.  “Marshal, that wouldn’t be a good idea.  I said we’ll be along shortly.”

       His hand stayed on his gun.  I could see in his eyes that he wanted to pull it.  Some things I don’t have a notion as to why people think the way they do.  We were supposed to be on the same side, but if he pulled his pistol, I’d have to pull mine and the results would be ugly.  

       We continued our staring contest for several more seconds before the marshal moved his hand then pushed Adams toward the jail.  “Just don’t be long!”  

       I allowed him the last word, then turned to Elfego.  “Do you know these men?” I asked, my eyes boring into his.

       “No, Senor, only that they watch you and they are some of those that pressure the comerciante,” he replied.

       I took a step toward the jail, Elfego hesitated.  “Come on, the Marshal wants both of us.”  I could see fear in his face.  That was the first time for he was as cool as a cucumber when the shooting started.  “You were pretty slick with my gun,” I mentioned to him as I grabbed him by the shoulder and we started down the street.  “How did you learn to shoot so accurately with a pistol?”

       He gave a little shrug, then finally answered.  “I don’t know.  It just comes as, you would say, naturally.”

       When we got there Adams was in the cell and Marshal Udall was waiting for us just inside the doorway.  Anger was still etched on his face, then he snarled, “Kid, I ought to knock you into next week!”

       He raised his arm back ready…

Hold on!  Don’t fire!” yelled the voice who just appeared in the doorway.  He was standing behind the two men that Elfego shot.  I was ready to cut loose with the Greener when he yelled.

       I took a couple of steps toward the entrance.  “Take their guns…nice and easy.  Come in and place them on the counter,” I said pointing with the shotgun.

       The second man Elfego shot was sitting on the floor while the first man was leaning on the frame of the entrance grasping onto it so he could stand.  I saw him raise his arm, pistol in hand.  “Better get that gun before he points it!” I declared.  This close the shotgun would cut the two standing in half.

       “Give me the gun, Bo,” urged the man standing behind him.

       The man, Bo, couldn’t steady his gun arm.  It was weaving all around.  “That Mex kilt Joe,” he hissed.

       “Bo, give me the gun,” the man pleaded.  An evil smirk appeared on Bo’s face, then all expression disappeared as he fell to the floor.  

       The man reached down to pick up the gun.  “With the finger tips,” I warned him.  “On the counter.  Yours too.”

       The man did right well with my instructions, then went to get the other man’s gun.  When the guns were placed on the counter I looked to see how Mr. Green was doing.  He was leaning against some sacks of potatoes, pale as a ghost and holding his bleeding arm.  The deputy was standing off to my left holding his broken arm against his chest.

       Lowering the Greener, I looked at Elfego.  “Give me my gun and run get a doctor.”  He placed the pistol in my hand then took off jumping over the two men on the floor.  It bothered me that he had the audacity to pull my gun from its holster.  Bothered me more that I let him, didn’t even know it until it happened.  

       I looked around surveying the scene and whispered a quick silent prayer of “thank you Lord, before I went over to Mr. Green.  Spotting a chair over against the wall.  I guided him in that direction and helped him get situated in it.  “Here,” I said handing him some kind of cloth from the display.  “Hold this tight against the wound.”

       There was still the smell of smoke in the room when the doctor appeared with Elfego five minutes later.  I watched him glance at the situation.  Saw the two men on the floor, then the deputy and finally against the wall Mr. Green.  I pointed toward Green and he rushed right over.  While he was examining his wound I walked up to the only non-casualty in the room besides myself and Elfego.

       His first glance was to the shotgun I held in my left hand.  “You got a name?” I asked.

       “Adams, Ken Adams,” he replied nervously.

       “How ’bout them two?” I asked, nodding toward the two men on the floor.  Both of whom were unconscious and from where I was standing I couldn’t tell if they were breathing or not.

       “This one,” he said looking at the man to my right, “is Bo Crandall.  The other fellow is Tobacco Joe Sanchez.”

       By this time there was quite a gathering outside the door.  The doc had finished with Mr. Green and told the deputy that he’d be with him in a bit.  “Harvey,” he hollered, “grab someone and help get Phil down to my office.  I need to cut that bullet out.”

       He then stooped down to examine Crandall.  Shaking his head.  “He’s still breathing, but he’s lost a lot of blood.  Bullet hit him in the side and went straight through.”  He motioned for another man in the crowd to come down and hold the man’s bandanna on the wound in the back with one hand, then took the man’s shirttail and placed it on the wound in front.  “Push steady, hold him like he was a sandwich.”

       Next he scooted over to Sanchez.  “Hmmm, there’s blood on his thigh, but…” he said as he started looking at the man’s head.  When he touched a spot the man winced, opening his eyes.  “Must have hit it on the floor when he fell.”

       “All right, Deputy Case, let me tend to you,” he informed him, standing and walking to him.

       While he was taking care of the deputy, Marshal Udall finally showed up at the scene.  His eyes widened when he saw the two men down on the floor.  He then glanced over at his deputy, finally his gaze rested on me.  “What happened?”

       “Why don’t you ask him?” I asked, pointing at Adams. 

       I sort of nonchalantly moved the shotgun I was holding from my left hand to the right.  I noticed the eyes of Adams flickered watching the movement.

      “Ken, tell me what happened.   Who started the shooting?”

       Glaring at him, I pulled on the end of my moustache with my left hand.

       “Well, I…”