I was standing outside of Solly Vendor’s tobacco shop telling him about my doings down in Socorro.  Solly liked to hear about places I’d been to and things I’ve seen.  He stood leaning against the post holding up the small awning over the boardwalk, puffing on one of his cigars.  Funny man, he sold the stuff, but didn’t like it to be smoked in his shop.  Of course, it was a little shop and a couple of men puffing on those big cigars could smoke it up real quick like.  Myself, I could care less, the stench of them is enough to make my face go sour.

       Solly was shaking his head as I was telling him about Elfego, when Stan Offut came out of the telegraph office which is right next to Solly’s place of business.  “Saw you standing out here Marshal and thought I’d save you a nickel and bring it out myself instead of sending one of the boys.”  A young kid, Jimmy Hopkins, is usually around to run the messages to folks.  I didn’t tell Stan, but I usually give Jimmy a dime.

       “What’s it say?” inquired Solly, trying to look over my shoulder.

       “Let me open it and read it first,” I replied.

       “It’s from Marshal Blasco down in Denver,” blurted Offut.  I stared at him, and he violently began shaking his head.  “No, I didn’t read it, honest,” he said, but then he laughed.  “I don’t have to, I’m the one who writes it down.  I already know what it says.”

       I gave a little grunt, but Solly guffawed right along with Stan.  “Well, stand back some, and give me a chance to read what it says.”

       Reading it out loud so Solly could hear, “Needed in Central City–STOP–President coming–STOP–Be there by the middle of the month–J. Blasco”

       Since Stan had left the door open, we all could hear his keys begin to clack.  He hurried off to check on the message.

       “What do you think that means?” questioned Solly, now holding the telegram and reading it to himself.

       “That’s not hard to understand; it means I’m to go to Central City because President Arthur is coming to town.”

       We were now talking about the President.  Solly saying that he thought the President was doing a good job, but that he was so removed from the people out here that it didn’t make much difference what he did.  Stan came back out to hand me another telegram.  

       “Stop by office in Denver first –J. Blasco”

      “Well, gentlemen, allow me to tell Molly before the two of you blab it all over town,” I uttered, then stepped off the boardwalk to head across the street to the diner.  Thoughts were fluttering through my mind as I crossed the dusty road and when I entered the diner they had sorta settled down.

       “Molly,” I hollered, figuring that she was in the kitchen.  Edith, Doc Jones’ wife, who was helping Molly since Marta had her baby to tend to, was wiping off tables.  There was no one else in the eatery.

       I hollered again.  She appeared at the entry to the kitchen.  “Miles, what is it?”

       “Come sit down,” I ordered.  I grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee as she approached.  I sat down, took a sip, then smiled up at her standing there.  “Want to take a trip to Denver and up to Central City?”

       A smile appeared on her face, lighting it up, but disappeared just as quickly.  “Miles, I can’t.  What brought this on?”

       “I’m ordered by Marshal Blasco to be there by the middle of the month.  I thought it would be a good trip for you since you haven’t traveled anywhere in ages.”  

       “It’s a nice thought, Miles, but I can’t leave, not with Marta out,” she informed me.

       “Sure you can,” blurted in Edith.  “We can find someone to take care of the baby and I don’t mind working a few more hours for a couple of weeks.”

       “Well, I don’t know…”

       “Go see Marta, now!” commanded Edith.  “I can handle things, just be back before the rush.

       I gulped down the rest of my coffee and nigh leaped from my chair to go with Molly.  We went out the entrance onto the boardwalk…

                    

P.S.  Last of Miles for a time period.  He’s on his way to Denver, and the missus and I are on our way to Maryland.

So he was a pretty good kid?” asked Doc Jones, scratching the side of his head.

       I swerved my head in every direction to make sure Elfego wasn’t somewhere listening.  “Yeah, Doc, he is a good kid.  In some ways he takes on responsibility as if he’s already full-grown.

       “I still can’t believe you gave him that gun,” lamented Edith.  Edith had been working with Molly since Marta had the baby.   “He’s likely to do something stupid–like get himself killed.”

       “He’ll do all right with it.  I told him to go back to work as a deputy with his father.  He’ll be fine,” I said hopefully, then added, “I also gave him a Bible.”

       “Hmpf, a gun and a Bible!” voiced Edith with some disgust in her tone.  

       It was good to be back in Durango, at the diner, with friends.  I was sitting with Molly, sipping on some good coffee for a change and explaining all that went on back in Socorro.  I sent telegrams to both Marshal Blasco and Marshal Wilcox regarding Stinson.  They both told me I could come home.  I’d fill out my report regarding the extortion ring run by Knaught and Udall, but that there was no apparent connection to Stinson.  I’d received a telegram from Judge Norris saying that Knaught received five years in prison.  He would be sent to Canon City to serve his time.  I could almost read the disgust in the note, and it was Judge Norris that had to do the sentencing.

       “Shame nothing more could be done about that fellow Knaught,” muttered Molly.  I glanced at her and smiled.  “What?  What are you smiling at?”

       “It makes me smile that sometimes you can read my thoughts,” I replied, with an even larger smile, and pulling at my moustache.  

       “Okay, okay,” she said, nudging me with her elbow.  “Doc, how about you?  Want a piece of pie?  I need to go get the Marshal here a piece.”

       Doc looked up, and uttered, “I’d like a piece of chocolate if you have one.”

       Molly had just stood when the front door opened.  At this time of day there are relatively few customers, but occasionally one does drop in.  Looking up, I saw who it was and hollered to Molly.  “Bring Mateo a piece as well.”

       Mateo wandered toward us.  “Do I need to arrest this scoundrel for telling lies?” He asked, nodding toward me.

       “Now, Marshal, there’s no one at this table who’d tell a lie,” I paused, standing to my feet.  “Unless it’s Doc, here.”  Then I proceeded to grab a cup from the counter and pour him a cup of coffee as he sat down with us.  By that time Molly had returned with a tray with five plates each having pie on them.  

       “You were fortunate Doc, this is the last piece of chocolate,” stated Molly.  “Mateo, take your pick.  Miles isn’t too fussy when it comes to pie.”  

       I looked at the four pieces left on the tray–custard, apricot, and two pieces of blackberry.   My eyes looked at the four sitting there, and I was just hoping that I’d get a piece of that blackberry pie.  “Oh, quit your drooling, Miles.  Here!” cajoled Molly, again reading my mind, and handing me a piece of blackberry pie.

       Molly started to go to the counter asking on her way, “Honey or sugar, Mateo?”

       When he replied honey, Doc and I both stared at him for several seconds.  “Mateo!” said Doc with a scowl on his face.  “Honey, and that sweet pie will do you in one of these days.”

       One thing I had come to realize over the years was that I was blessed with good friends.  The good Lord allows people to come into our lives for a reason–some for a short season, some for a longer period of time.  I’ve learned to not question Him and His timing, but also that I should cherish and enjoy the time He has given me to be with them.

       With a sigh, I looked at Molly, and tapped her on the arm, “Good pie…”

Elfego and I walked slowly over to Knaught’s office, neither of us saying anything.  He had come back to town, as I saw his horse tied to the post outside his office.  I couldn’t say for sure, but I had a feeling that he went to talk with Stinson.  Even if Stinson was behind Knaught’s extortion dealings, it wasn’t what we wanted to arrest him for.  He was doing much worse evil in the Territory than a small town extortion ring.

       As we opened the door and walked through the doorway, Knaught lifted up his head and exclaimed, “You again!  What now?”

       “You’re under arrest,” I told him simply and calmly.  

       “Hmpf, what charge?” he sneered.

       “Extortion, among other things,” I answered knowing that the judge would have a full list of legal terms at the arraignment.  “Stand up and put your hands behind your back.”

       He stood, but kept his hands down by his side.  “That’s not a federal crime.  You can’t arrest me.”

       I emphasized the Greener as I handed it to Elfego to hold, then started toward Knaught.  “New Mexico is still federal territory.  Anyway, any crime committed I can make an arrest.  Turn around!”

       His hands were still hanging down by his sides.  Oh, how I wanted to give him a thump and was getting ready to do so, when he decided to cooperate.  “I’ll be out ten minutes after you put me in jail.  I run an insurance agency, providing a service for the merchants of this community.  Ask any of them.”

       “I already have,” I said, snapping the handcuffs on his wrists, then giving him a shove toward the door.

       He jerked his head at me when I made that statement, but didn’t say anything.  We walked slowly out the door and down the street toward the jail.  Elfego handed me the shotgun as we exited Knaught’s office.

       People started to stare at us proceeding down the street.  Many stopped to gawk at our little march, and there was a murmur going through the crowd.  Knaught would probably get five years or less, but I was hoping he would break and tell us about Stinson.  Upon entering the jail, the Judge had taken a seat behind Marshal Udall’s desk and the marshal was standing in the doorway to the cells.

       “Bring him to me,” ordered Judge Norris.  As Knaught stood before the Judge, who was reading off a list of crimes he was charged with, some I had never heard before, I kept watching Udall.  When we entered the jail I had given the shotgun back to Elfego and told him to stand outside.

       Knaught stood there with a smirk on his face listening to the Judge.  There was a pause and silence as the judge asked how he pleaded.   There was a slight move of his head toward Udall and with that Udall pulled his gun.

       “Release him!” commanded the marshal.

       “You are plenty stupid!” I cried.  “These are small time charges, and your name hasn’t been mentioned.  Now I reckon I’ll have to arrest you.”

       Udall laughed.  I reached in my vest pocket for the keys to the handcuffs.  I took a step toward Knaught, then tossed the keys.  “You want him released, you do it!”

       As the keys were in the air, I saw his eyes going to them.  That was all I needed to draw and fire.  Two shots filled the air, one from my gun, but then I saw the Judge holding a pistol in his hand.  Udall fell to the floor, dead with two bullets in his chest.

       At the shots, Elfego burst into the office.  The shotgun aimed steadily at Knaught.  I motion with my hand for him to put it down.

       “Lock this man up,” ordered the Judge.  I took Knaught by the elbow and guided him over the prostrated body of Udall on the floor.  A few seconds later I was back in the office, having tucked Knaught tightly in his new, temporary home.

       Coming back to the office I tossed the cell keys on the desk.  The Judge still had his pistol out, but it was now laying on the desk in front of him.  He looked at me, “Marshal, I told you that Udall would be taken care of in due time.”

       Judge Norris stood glancing toward the cell room.  “Why don’t you go get something to eat then come to the jail.  Let Knaught stew awhile, then you can question him later,” he said then paused.  “Do it legal.  Then I’ll question him again tomorrow.  With the charges we have he’ll serve maybe two years.  I’m hoping he’ll give us something to arrest Stinson.”

       I stood looking down at the dead body of the marshal shaking my head.  “Shame for a life to be such a waste.  The good Lord meant for us to be honorable men, especially those of us who wear the badge and stand for justice,” I said looking at the Judge.  “Reckon he knows what true justice is right about now.” 

       Elfego handed me the Greener and we stepped out of the jail into the street…

I stayed near waiting for the Judge to be finished with Deputy Case.  I wasn’t too worried that the Judge wouldn’t be able to take care of himself, if Case decided to try and do something to the Judge.  I watched as the men came to clear the body of the dead man off the floor.  No one seemed to know his name.  

       “What is wrong, Senor?” asked Elfego.  “You are scowling.”

       Turning my head to look at him, I gave a small smile.  “I just sent a man to his Maker and I don’t even know his name.  That don’t seem right, but what was causin’ the smile was the fact that Knaught knows his name.”

       Elfego got the same grim look on his face.  The few people left in the church quieted down.  I knew they were hoping to soon get this over with and back to their place of business.  It seemed that Case had been with the Judge for quite a spell when the door opened and he walked out followed by the Judge who stood at the entry to the little office.  He pointed toward a man and motioned him forward.  

       I looked at Elfego who said quietly, “I do not know his name, but he is a butcher.  His meat market is next to the grocery.”

       Case stopped in front of me as he was exiting the room.  “Can I have my gun back?”

       His pistol was stuck in my waistband.  I pulled it out emptying the cartridges and gave it to him.  He didn’t say anything more, just placed the gun in his holster and with somberness walked on out.  Elfego followed him.

       It seemed that the preacher had finished with Mr. Farnsworth so I walked over to talk with him.  “Sorry about the blood on the floor, Preacher.”

       “Most of it will scrub out, but it’ll give me a good sermon illustration.  Something along the lines that when you accept the blood-washing of the Lord Jesus it can never be scrubbed away,” he said, then smiled.  “It may be morbid, but it’s a shame it didn’t happen at the altar.  A blood-stained altar might get the attention of some of these lukewarm parishioners.”

       He left me to go speak with the few that were left sitting on the pews.  He patted a couple of the men on the shoulder, another laughed at something he said.  This seemed to be a good man.  An hour later the last man was interviewed by the Judge and signed his deposition.  The Judge motioned for me to come to the preacher’s office.

       Holding a stack of papers, he waved them at me.  “Go arrest Anton Knaught!”

       It was then that I saw a badge lying on the desk.  “Mr. Case resigned as deputy,” came the words of the Judge.  “He turned state’s evidence and gave me his badge.”

       We both heard someone approach and saw Elfego leaning against the side of the door.  He was courteous enough not to enter unless invited and didn’t want to interrupt our conversation. 

       We looked at him.  “Senior Judge, Senor Marshal, the Deputy, he leave town.  I have no horse to follow.”

       “That’s all right, son.  Thank you for taking the initiative to follow him,” remarked the Judge.

       Elfego looked up at me, a puzzled look on his face.  “This inichitive, what does it mean?”

       I clasped my hand on his shoulder.  “It means you’ve done a good job.”  I turned to the Judge.  “This is quite a young man.”

       “Go arrest Knaught.  I’d like to have the trial in two days,” reported the Judge.

       “Knaught left, remember?” Elfego reminded me.

       “If he’s not in his office we’ll wait for him there,” I replied.  “You ready?”

       “Si,” then he hesitated.  “What about Marshal Udall?”

       The Judge and I glanced at each other.  “The Marshal will be taken care of in due time.”

       Elfego seemed all right with that, he turned toward the doorway.  “Let’s go, Senor Marshal…”