The Saga of Miles Forrest

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
Lucas wanted to come along with me, but Mateo had jailed several brawlers so he had to stay at the jail.  Charlie also told him that no crime had been committed, therefore no investigation was needed so his duty was at the jail.  It was for the best.  I’m sure Lucas could have learned something, but I didn’t know much myself or if Hoffner just took off.  His horse could have fallen and crippled or even killed Hoffner somewhere out on the range.
       There was no need to be up early so I didn’t try to break daylight.  I saddled Star, rode down to the diner and had a nice breakfast.  I should make it to Thompson’s ranch around noon and  I’m sure Donovan would feed me.
       It had been a while since I let Star get out and run.  After we left Durango, I let him loose for several miles.  Running was something he relished and it was good to sit in the saddle on him again.  Hawk was better in the mountains, but there wasn’t a horse like Star on the flats.  After several minutes I slowed him down to a walk then led him to a little stream.  We sat there while he nourished himself and I gazed out at the hills.  That was another lifetime when I roamed the hills, deserts, and mountains.  Now, sometimes I had my wishes, but honestly I was content.  Maybe I was becoming too comfortable.
       From my reckoning, it was just before noon when I rode into the ranch yard.  I’d been to Thompson’s a couple of times and he had a nice place.  A large house, but nothing fancy, a cook shack, bunkhouse, and stables connected to a barn.  Thompson, being a widower, usually ate at the bunkhouse and it was there I found him.  Two other cowboys were there eating that I didn’t know.
       Reese Donovan saw me first.  “Marshal, you’re a long ways from town.  Sit yurself down, I’ll bring yuh a plate.”
       Thompson turned his head just far enough to see who I was.  “Sit down!” he commanded.  I know he didn’t demand that I did, it was just his rough demeanor.  He was like that in everything he did–rough.  A rough man from a rough age; time had almost passed him by.  “What brings you out this way?”
       I had already poured coffee from the big pot on the stove and was headed for my seat at the table next to Thompson when Donovan brought my food.  It looked sort of like carne asada, but the meat was cubed and a better cut.  Also the plate had fried potatoes and what looked like applesauce.  I had to smile for it reminded me of a trail dinner, only upgraded.  I will have to hand it to Donovan though; he had spiced up that meat just right.
       Before answering Thompson I took a bite.  Donovan was watching me.  I nodded my head and smiled which brought a grin of pure delight to his face.  He started back to the kitchen when I called him, “Stick around.  I can use your output.”
       “To answer your question, I’m out here lookin’ for Clyde Hoffner.  Last I knew he was workin’ for you.”
       Thompson looked at me with a glare.  I think that is the only way he knows how to look at a person.  “Has he done anything wrong?”
       “Not to my knowledge.  His cousin, Reverend Chapman hasn’t heard from him in several weeks and has become concerned that something has happened to him.  When was the last time you saw him?”
       “You’d have to ask Bill Farmer as he gives out the assignments,” said Thompson.  I could tell he was thinking of when he saw him last.  He looked down toward the two cowboys.  “Perky, Doyle, have you seen Hoffner around?”
       They both grunted and shook their heads.  “Oh, boys, this is Marshal Miles Forrest.  Sorry, I didn’t introduce you to them, Marshal.  That skinny one is Bob Perkins better known as Perky, the other fellow is Frank Doyle.  They’ve been with me since the first of the year.”
       My eyes went to Donovan who was rubbing his chin.  “Miles, Clyde came by four days ago askin’ for a poke of grub.  I jist figured he was goin’ out for several days.”
       “He didn’t look worried or concerned?  I don’t suppose he said where he was goin’?

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
Reverend Chapman, I have a favor to ask of you,” said Molly, as she watched the preacher sip his coffee.  “Hannah and Gretchen are two fine elderly ladies who both worked for us at one time or another.  They still provide our eggs.  But what I was wondering, would you stop by and see them?  I know Gretchen has been ailing and they don’t get out much.”
       “There’s nothing on my calendar, so after I leave here I’ll go get Betty and we’ll go visit them.  Tell me where they live.”
       Molly gave him the instructions then said, “They are getting up in years, and I’m concerned about their eternal souls.”  She took hold of the preacher’s hand, “I really appreciated this.”
       He nodded, then pulled his hand from Molly’s, picked up his cup and drained the contents.  Standing up, he looked down at Molly, “Be praying,” then walked on out the diner.
 
    
       I walked out of the diner in time to see the stranger riding down the street, probably heading for Olson’s or the Broken Drum.  It was time for me to do some checking around on the preacher’s cousin, Clyde Hoffner.  I thought I’d check at a couple of places in town, then ride on out to Thompson’s in the morning.  The first place I went was over to Solly Vendor’s place.  He had a large window in front of his counter and he often was outside smoking some of his merchandise.  
       Though I didn’t approve of Solly’s ware I thought he was a good, solid man.  He was honest and did his part to help out if a person was in need.  We made the normal greetings and chat, but when I asked him about Hoffner he told me that he hadn’t seen him since he rode in with the preacher then went to work for Thompson.
       Leaving Solly’s I went on down the street and peeked in the jail to wave at Lucas.  He was busy sweeping the floor of the office, but took the time to wave back.  Lucas was a changed person after his trip to Canon City.  I wasn’t sure if he would stay on as deputy, and I don’t think he had come to a decision yet in his own mind.  From the jail I went to Olson’s Saloon.  I didn’t see the horse of the stranger tied out front so he either went to the Broken Drum or on out of town.  
       Rufus Dixon was working the bar. He did his job, caused no trouble, and usually knew when a stranger came to town.  I asked him first about Hoffner to which he replied he hadn’t seen him.  Then I asked about the stranger.
       “Tall man, whiskered?” questioned Dixon.  He wears his gun on the left side, for a cross draw.”
       That could be several men in town, but I nodded, “Sounds like him.  Has he been in?”
       “Not today,” replied Dixon.  “I only saw him once and that was last night,” he paused.  “Be careful, Marshal.  There’s something about him that is dark.  Maybe it’s his grown of whiskers, but it seems to be more in his eyes and his attitude.”
       “Thanks for the advice.  Let me know if you see or hear anything of Hoffner.”
       I was only a couple of stores from Foster’s Mercantile.  It had been a while since I had talked to Darnelle or seen Mr. Foster, so I decided to stop by for a quick visit.  There were several customers in the store and both Darnelle and Jessie Blackstone were busy.  I waved and started to walk out when Darnelle held up her hand, “Wait Miles!  Let me finish with Mrs. Ferguson and I’ll be with you.”
       While she was finishing I gazed at the goods in one of the glass counters.  There were all sorts of watches, rings, and other types of jewelry.  I perused the watches as I hadn’t had one in several years.  The one my Daddy gave me when I left home broke when I was riding for Pennington over on the Tomichi Creek.  Moving on to the next counter; it was filled with shaving mugs and razors.  Automatically my hand went to my chin and I rubbed it a few times, the shook my head.  My razor was still good.  On top of the counter were various types of soaps with their own curious aromas.  I was in need new soap, but it would have to wait until later.
       I was sniffing the different types of soaps when Darnelle accosted me.  “Miles, what can I help you with?  Soap, a new razor?”
       Smiling, I replied, “Always tryin’ to make a sale. Yuh know, after a while they all begin to smell the same.”
       Darnelle giggled and returned my smile, “Well, that’s why we are in business.  Are you here for a reason?”
       “No particular reason.  I realized I hadn’t been by in a while so just stopped in.  I wanted to check on you and also see how your Dad was doing.”
       Her countenance became cloudy.  “Not good.  We’re not sure, but he made have had a minor stroke.  Whatever happened it has affected his attitude again.”  Quickly, however, she put away that expression and her normal smile and joyful attitude returned.  “Have you heard that the Blackstones are leaving and moving to Oregon?”
       Jessie Blackstone was married to a no-good saloon owner in Silverton.  Reverend Chapman worked and worked on that man until one day he broke down and gave his heart to the Lord.  For the past year he had been trying to sell his saloon, but wasn’t getting the price he wanted.  I reckoned it finally sold.
       “You’ll lose a good worker,” I said.
       Darnelle nodded, “Yes, but it will be good for the family to be together again.  Connor needs his father,” she said, then paused.  “I can see that you’re anxious to be going so I won’t hold you up any longer, plus I’ve got customers.”
       “Tell your father and mother, hi, for me.  And say a prayer, I’m leavin’ town tomorrow on a job…”

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
Oh, Marshal, I’m glad I caught you before you left,” came the voice of the exhausted minister. 
       He must have run from his house or at least the church to the diner, I thought.  He doesn’t normally get that much exercise unless he has one of those hellfire and brimstone messages which will get him wound up some.  “Sit down, Parson, what is so desperately important to get you runnin’?”
       That brought a chuckle for the group.  Molly had edged over to the table as she saw the preacher run in.  She was more thoughtful than I as she poured him a cup of coffee and placed it before him at the table.  He took a sip before he began, first thanking Molly.
       “You remember my cousin, Clyde Hoffner?” asked Chapman.
       “He’s the one who helped you and Betty move here, am I right?” questioned Doc before he scratched the side of his face.  
       “You’re right Doc, and for the past two years or so he’s been working out at Cecil Thompson’s ranch.”
       “So what seems to be the problem?” I asked, getting involved in the conversation.  
       He finished his coffee before answering.  “Nick Parsons rode by the church this morning.  I was in my office studying and praying for Sunday’s service.  He was very polite and apologized for interrupting me.”
       “Well, get on with it,” I urged him.
       “Let him talk, Miles,” scolded Molly.  “He’ll tell us at his own pace.”
       I glanced at her, then said, “Go on, Parson.”
       He nodded, then continued.  “Mr. Parsons told me that Mr. Thompson sent him to town to tell me.”
       He paused, while the rest of us looked back and forth at each other.  I wanted to say something for him to get to the point, but I remember the slight chiding I received from Molly, so I waited with the others.
       “Parsons said that Clyde hadn’t shown up for any meals for a week.  He said it wasn’t uncommon for a person to be out on the range for a few days, but rarely a week without Mr. Thompson knowing about it.  Something has happened to him,” he paused, then looked at me.  “Miles, would you mind checking into it?”
       The marshal has been dropped and the parson was making this a personal request.  I pulled on my moustache, then looked straight at the Reverend.  “Anything could have happened to your cousin.  His horse could have fallen on him, a cougar or bear, or even an renegade Indian.”
       “I know, Miles, that’s why I need to find him.
       “Preacher!” I kind of raised my voice without meaning to, “The Tompson ranch covers a lot of territory.  It would be like searchin’ for a needle in a haystack.”  I felt Molly touch my arm indicating that I should calm down.  “I’m not upset or angry, there’s no need to be, so I apologize for my outburst, but you can see the problem.”
       With a nod of his head he replied, “That’s why I’ve been praying, so it will be a beam instead of a needle you’ll be looking for.”  He paused again then said softly.  “Miles, if he’s dead I would like to give the body a decent burial.”
       “If he’s dead, the varmints have torn him apart,” I said with disgust.
       He dropped his head for a moment.  “There will be parts of him there.  Please, Miles.”
       I looked around at the others gathered there with their varied expressions of expectancy.  Then I felt a slight pinch.  I sighed, “I’ll go look for your cousin.  Parson, did you ever think he might have just rode off?”
       He shook his head.  “He would have stopped by to tell us.  No, he didn’t ride off–something happened.  He’s hurt, he’s sick, or. . . he’s hiding.”
       “Hiding!” Charlie spoke up for the first time.  “Why would he be hiding?”
       Preacher Chapman just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.  I put a hand on top of his shoulder.  “I’ll head out in the mornin’.  I’ll do my best,” I assured him.
       “I know you will Miles.  May we all pray together,” he said, then started praying.
       I didn’t bow my head or close my eyes.  I usually pray like Jesus told the disciples, ‘Watch and pray,’ and being a marshal that has helped me survive.  I saw that the man who Charlie talked with had left the diner.  That made me wonder…

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
Charlie Gold, Doc Jones and I were sitting around the table in the diner, drinking coffee, and of course we each ate a hearty piece of pie, all discussing Lucas’ adventures.  It was easy to relax and confide in these two men, friends, men a person could trust.
       Doc began to scratch the side of his head as was his habit when he was going to say something.  “Lucas has become quite a man in a short time.  Why, I remember when he was running around cutting wood for folks.”
       “Hmpf,” snorted Charlie, “there are times when I wish he was still doing that.  I know Marta sure does.  However, I will say she is doing much better.”
       “She know about Lucas’ latest adventure?” questioned Doc.
       “Oh no, only small bits of it,” replied Charlie shaking his head.  “We don’t discuss sheriffing around her except the general doings of the day.”  He paused, then put a hand on my shoulder.  “I want to thank you for watching over Lucas.”
       Smiling, I touched my chin where Lucas had punched me for my guardian angel status.  Doc began to chuckle because I told them earlier of what Lucas did in response to me shadowing him around.   “I won’t be doin’ that anymore.  He’s on his own–make or break.”
       A burst of sunlight came into the room as the entry door opened to the diner.  With the light it was hard to see who it was until the door shut behind him.  Both Charlie and I studied the man some as he walked to a table.  He was tall, thin, and carried his jacket over his left arm so he was not hindered if he needed to reach for his gun.  I had not seen him before, either in person or on a poster.  With a couple day’s growth of whiskers his complexion was dark, but he wasn’t threatening in any manner.  Probably just come off the trail and wanted something to eat.
       Since Charlie was the sheriff he thought it was his duty to introduce himself.  Heaving a sigh, he got up from his chair, bumping the table and spilling some of my freshly poured coffee.  He went over to where the man was studying the limited menu.
       As Charlie approached his eyes glanced upward then went back to the menu.  “Not a big selection here,” he proclaimed, then looked up at Charlie who was now standing by the table.  
       “I can assure you it is all good,” Charlie responded.  “It’s a small diner, so it cannot have much overhead, but I can vouch for the tastiness of the food.”
       That got a smile from the man while at the same time Marta arrived to take his order.  “This man here,” the man sort of pointed with the menu, “says that everything on it is good, so I’ll take a steak, hashbrowns, and whatever kind of greens you can throw on the plate.  Just sizzle the steak.”
       “Save a piece of pie for the man,” added Charlie.
       The man gazed up at Charlie.  “Now what can I do for you, uh,” Charlie opened his vest to show his badge,” Sheriff?”
       “Just come to welcome you to Durango.  You passing through or plan to stay awhile?”
       “You always this courteous to strangers, or did you pick me out on purpose?” asked the man with some animosity in his voice.
       Charlie stood there relaxed, “Try to be.  I was sitting here and you walked in so I took the opportunity to greet you.”
       The man squinted, then asked, “Are you Sheriff Forrest?”
       Charlie didn’t refer to me sitting back at the table.  “No, I’m Sheriff Gold,” he informed the man.  At that time Marta walked up with the man’s meal.  “I’ll let you enjoy your meal.  Enjoy it and your time in Durango.”
       The door opened again, this time it was Rev. Chapman.  He waved at Charlie as he proceeded back to our table.  After he passed Charlie followed and went back to his chair.  
       “Good morning, gentlemen.  The Lord sure is good!” he proclaimed before sitting down.  “Brother Miles, would you mind pouring me a cup of that elixir? requested the preacher after he had seated himself.
       I got up, refilled everyone’s cup and poured a cup for the preacher.  “What brings you to join us today, Parson?” I asked.
      He didn’t answer as he was helping himself to the hot coffee.  I don’t know how he can swallow such a big gulp that coffee as hot as it was.  
      While he was enjoying his drink, I turned to Charlie.  “What did the man say?”
       “He was asking about you…”