The Saga of Miles Forrest

Leaving Molly at the diner I went back to the jail to pick up Lucas.  Glancing at him in the saddle I gave him a nod.  He had on a jacket, his rifle was in hand, and I could tell he had his soogan tied on the back along with a heavier coat.  He was learning.
       We moved slowly out of town, I rode on one side of the road, Lucas on the other just in case Martin decided to leave the road.  When we were out of town, Lucas mentioned, “Mateo thinks he hit him with his shot.”
       “He’s hurtin’, bleedin’, and soon he’ll be cold when darkness falls.  He better hope we find him, or most likely he won’t make it through the night,” I proclaimed, then asked.  “Think you can ride a little faster and still see if he cuts off the road?”
       As we moved up the hill that led south out of town, I noticed that the clouds were dropping lower.  We might be in for some snow during the night.  It would be nice to find Martin and get on back to town before the storm hit.  This time of year one never knew about a storm.  It might bring just a shifting of snow, or it might dump a load.  The wind wasn’t blowing much, that was a good sign.  I didn’t want to be caught out in no blizzard.
       I was having trouble holding Star in check; he wanted to run.  I really needed to ride him harder and more often.  He loved to run; it was the thoroughbred in him.  We topped the ridge and started down the other side when Lucas reined up.  Seeing him I stopped trying to find what he spotted.  He was pointing over to a large patch of prickly pear, there was a horse behind it. 
       Nodding to him, I dismounted then tied Star to a sage.  I really didn’t need to tie him for he would stand without the reins tied to anything.  I did it more for Lucas to remind him to secure his horse.  Motioning with the Greener that he should move off to the left and come up flanking the horse I moved slowly forward.  I didn’t want to scare him away in case Martin was near.  
       I stopped, there were some rocks to my right where Martin could be hiding waiting for a shot at me.  I stared at them intently, deciding that there was no one there, at least no one conscious.  Slowly I started back toward the horse.
       “Senor Miles!” hollered Lucas.  “Come quick!”
       Rushing over to where Lucas was standing I could see him looking downward.  “Oh, my mercy!” I exclaimed.  “How in the world…”
       Lucas gave me a bewildered look.  “How do we get him out?” he questioned.  Biff Martin had fallen off his horse into a huge patch of prickly pear mixed with a stand of cholla.  From where I was standing I couldn’t tell if he was alive or not, but we had to get him out of it, the question was how without us getting caught up in it.  It looked as if that cholla was ready to jump out and grab one of us.
       I rubbed down my chin then pulled on the end of my moustache.  “Go get our heavy coats,” I ordered.
       In a few minutes he was back, leading the horses.  After tying them to some sage, he pulled the coats from our roll.  I put mine on, noticing that he followed.  Looking at Martin I saw that he must have fallen off, hit and rolled into the cactus.
       “He’s your prisoner,” I began, “how are you goin’ to get him out?”  I wanted to grin, but needed to hold onto my sober expression.
       There was no complaint or whimper from him.  I watched as he began to look around.  He walked over to a dead pinon, where he picked up a couple of dead branches.  “Here, Senor Miles, help me push aside some of the cholla,  Hold it now,” he instructed, then reached in careful like to grab the hurt arm of Martin.  He looked up at me with a frown, then gave a hard jerk pulling him halfway out of the mess.  I released the cholla, then went to grab the other arm then we finished pulling him out.
       Where Mateo had shot him was covered with cactus spines and a couple of stems of cholla in it.  I pulled my knife to place under the cholla then flipped them off.  It took a couple of tries, then I rolled him over to check to see if he was breathing.  “He’s still alive, Lucas, but barely.  Go get his horse and see if there’s a blanket.”
       There was no easy way about this.  I pulled his boots off, then undid his britches trying to avoid the spines but to no avail.  By the time Lucas had returned I had his pants off and was working on his shirt.  There were cholla and pear spines in my gloves, but I figured to finish the job before worrying about them as long as they didn’t work their way through the leather.
       Lucas laid out the blanket where I pointed then when Martin was just in his longhandles I lifted him to place him on the blanket.  It was time to take the gloves off as the spines were penetrating.  “Tied the blanket around him,” I complained, now working on the spines in my hands.  I watched Lucas secure Martin, then spoke, “Now what?”
      He looked at me then over to the horse.  “He can’t ride,” muttered Lucas, then he looked down at Martin, then over to me with a frown.  I didn’t respond.  He looked around then up toward the sky.  “We’ll have to tie him to his horse.”
       Nodding, I said, “Let’s get to it, then head back home.”  I yelped, shaking my hand as I grabbed Martin’s legs.  Some of the thorns were in my hand.  We loaded him up and Lucas tied him down. 
       “Think he’ll live?” he asked quietly.
       “For sure he won’t if’n we don’t get him down to Doc.  He’s lost a lot of blood.”
       Two hours later Lucas and I were sitting in the diner just eating a piece of butterscotch pie.  Mateo said that he would cover the jail to give Lucas some time to recuperate.  When we dropped the body off at Doc’s he took one look at him, “Why bring him to me?  He’s dead.”  I saw Lucas jerk when Doc said that.  “Take him over to Parker’s.”
       “How do you do it, Senor Miles?  I’m not hungry,” he said, playing with his pie.  “You face this all the time, how do you do it?”
       I placed my fork down on the now empty plate, then pointed upwards.  “It’s only the Lord.  Death can be hard, death can make a person bitter.  I know that in my time I’ve sent many to meet their Maker and Judge.  All I know is that He gives me peace trying to make the world a safer place.  Death holds nothing on me; I’ve faced the Pale Rider.”
       “You gonna eat that pie?”

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

Mateo was standing out in the street with his gun in hand when I burst out of the diner.  As I was running toward him, he rushed to the jail and went inside.  By the time I got there he was at the cell where Doc and Lucas were behind the locked cell door.  Samuels was lying on the cot, bellowing, “He left me, he left.”  Honor among thieves, ha.
       “He took the keys!” hollered Mateo, then rushed to the sheriff’s office where we kept a spare set hidden.  
       I went to the cell where I saw Lucas holding his head with blood oozing between his fingers from a gash.  Doc had his hand on his arm and was shaking his head while Samuels continued to blubber something between curse words and sobbing.
       My eyes focused on those of Lucas who tried to avoid them looking down.  “Tell me what happened,” I ordered.  Mateo was back working the key into the lock to open it.  I was thinking as Mateo opened the cell, “Here we go again, jailbreak and Lucas is involved.”
       “Miles, it was my fault,” interceded Doc.  “Don’t be blaming the kid.”
       Lucas sort of flinched when he heard those words.  “Don’t be calliin’ him a kid, he’s a sworn in deputy.  This cell is his responsibility and something happened and I want to know what,” I said harshly.  I looked over at Doc, “You all right?”
       They were moving out of the cell, when I saw Mateo pick up a chair that was lying on its side.  “What’s that chair doin’ in there?” I questioned with a scowl on my face.  “And how did Lucas get that gash on his forehead?”
       “Miles, let me explain,” muttered Doc.
       “I’m waitin’ for the Deputy to explain.”
       Mateo had gotten a broom and was sweeping the floor putting the remnants of the prisoner’s lunch on the tray that he was now bringing out of the cell.  Locking the cell behind him, he threw the mess out into the street where the birds and dogs would get rid of it soon enough.
       “Well!”
       Lucas, with his head hung down, began to speak.  “There is no excuse, it is my fault.”
       “I’m not askin’ for an excuse, I want to know what happened.  And lift your head up and face this like the man you are.  You learn by your mistakes. . .if you live through them.”
       “I had opened the cell to bring the prisoners their meal.  Senor Doc followed me bringing in a chair on which to sit.  He sat the chair by the bed of the wounded man to tend him, and my eyes were upon what he was doing instead of the other man.  He grabbed the tray from me, then slammed it against my face; I guess that’s how I was cut.  It knocked me down.  The doctor, he must have jumped up because I saw the man pick up the chair and swing it at Doc, knocking him down over the cot.  That is all I can recall, I’m sorry.”
       Mateo and I listened.  Part of what happened was due to inexperience, part due to the audacity of the prisoner, and I looked at the cell, and part due to the construction of the cell.
       Doc was now working at the gash on Lucas’ forehead.  “He’ll need some stitches,” he said.
       “Well, stitch him up, then go get your horse.  We’ve got a prisoner to catch.”  
       “Senor, you want me to go with you?” he asked.
       “Your prisoner, think it best you go after him.  Don’t you?”
       “Hold still!” yelled Doc as Lucas jumped to his feet.  “I need to finish this off.
       “I’ll go saddle my horse while Doc finishes with your head.  He is all right to ride, ain’t he?”
       I looked at Lucas, the excitement had left and his face was downcast again.  “Senor Marshal, I have no horse to ride.”
       “Mine’s right out front,” declared Mateo.  “You can ride him.”
       “Be ready to go by the time I get back,” I yelled at the doorway.  “Mateo, when Charlie gets back, see if he can find someone to find a way to get a dinner tray into the cell without opening it.”
       I hurried up to the cabin, where I could saddle Star.  The man went off to the south again, but with a little lead.  There may have been a rifle on the horse he stole, but he would have a hard time using it with his hand in the shape it was.  I just wondered as I rushed up the hillside why he would ride off to the south again.  I saddled Star then rode to the diner to inform Molly of our plans before going back to the jail to pick up Lucas.
       She was waiting for me outside so I didn’t dismount.  Coming over to me she placed her hand upon my leg.  “You be careful, Miles Forrest…and take care of Lucas.”
       “Tell Marta, he’s with me.  Mateo or Doc will fill you in on what happened.  Hope to be back today, or tomorrow at the latest…”

The Saga of Miles Forrest

Lucas, what are you doing in here looking so glum? questioned Doc as Lucas came over to the tables.
        He gave a wry smile, then said, “Those idiots.  They’re always complaining about something, or else they’re moaning and groaning ’bout how life ain’t fair to them.  Senor Doc, I tell them, that life didn’t put them in jail, it was their foolish ways.”
        That brought a chuckle from both of us.  “I’m here to get their food,” he paused, “so they can complain again about Tia Emelda’s fine cooking.”
       “Sit down,” I suggested.  “Molly just went to the kitchen and will be back shortly.”
       “Lucas, I have one thing to say to you,” interjected Doc.  “You’ll find some people are that way–just plain contrary about life in general.  They don’t realize that the good Lord wants us to enjoy life, but to do that we must follow His rules.”
       “Si, Senor Doc, I know, but, but it gets so frustrating at times.”
       I slapped him on the shoulder.  “Don’t we all know that.  Want some coffee while you’re  waitin’?”
       “That would be nice, si.”
       Standing I went to the counter to grab a cup then over to the stove where the coffeepot was warming.  Doc and I had drunk about half of it so I poured Lucas a cup then brought the pot to refill ours.  While I was doing that Molly came out of the kitchen with a piece of pie.
       My gaze followed her and the pie as she sat it down in front of Lucas.  It was chocolate.  “I thought I heard you out here and thought you might like a piece of pie while you’re waiting for the food.  Emelda is dishing up enchiladas.”
       Lucas was licking his lips in anticipation of the first bite, but he remembered his manners.  “Gracias, Senora Molly,” he said with a smile then plunged his fork into the pie.
       “Enchiladas!” exclaimed Doc.  “I might just have to stick around for a plate of those.”
       I sipped on my coffee watching Lucas devour that pie.  It didn’t take him long and for a few seconds I thought he might lick the plate.  Molly was sitting there with a big grin on her face watching Lucas enjoy the pie.  Then she looked at Doc then to me, “I think he likes it.”
       “Well for a minute I was wonderin’,” I remarked with heavy sarcasm, then looked at Doc.  “Were you offered a piece of pie?”  He shook his head.  “Neither was I.  Hmpf, favorites.”
       Molly laughed, then got back up to go get the food for the outlaws.  In a few minutes she walked out with a tray covered with a red checkered cloth.  I looked at her then toward the tray.  “Ain’t no pie under that cloth is there?”
       She chuckled, “Might be.
       “Don’t let Lucas know.  He’ll have it et before he gets back to the jail,” I warned her.
       Lucas was looking from face to face with a big smile on his face.  He shoved his chair back still smiling and picked up the tray of food.  “I must go do my sworn duty.”
       “Wait just a minute,” urged Doc.  “I’ll go with you.  I need to check on their wounds.”  He slurped down his remaining coffee, then grabbed his coat pulling it on.  Looking at Molly, “Edith and I plan on eating supper here tonight,” he said then winked at her.
       “There goes a good boy,” said Molly as Lucas and Doc walked out the diner.
       “Boy!  He’s turnin’ into quite the man,” I stated.  “Charlie and Marta are doin’ a fine job in raisin’ him.”
       Molly smiled then put her hand on my arm.  “Marta has lightened up quite a bit.  I know that she and Charlie have been talking.  I was worried a few weeks back.”
       I nodded my head in agreement.  Then I gave Molly one of my best smiles.  “All right, you win,” she muttered in resignation.  “I’ll get you a piece of pie.”
       Customers were starting to come in as I was slowly working on my pie.  I wasn’t like Lucas to thrust it all in my mouth at one time, but I savored each bite.  Molly and Marta were both waiting on customers.  It was a place of contentment.  People coming in, smiling and nodding to one another, feeling comfort in the little diner.  It was a nice, relaxing place to eat.
       The cup was at the edge of my mouth so I could wash down the last piece of pie when I heard the shot.  In fact, everyone in the diner heard the shot…

The Saga of Miles Forrest

You look to be deep in thought, Miles,” came the voice of Doc Jones as he pulled out a chair to sit with me.
       I looked over at him, ready to get up for coffee when Molly came around with a cup for him and refilled mine then she sat down with us.  “Ah, you know me Doc.  Just ponderin’ last year and wonderin’ about what’s ahead.  Not worried mind you, just thinkin’.”
       Molly gave a little laugh, “No, he lets me do all the worrying.”  Doc chuckled along with her.
       “Well, you and Charlie did well with that last gang.  Three dead, two wounded, and you brought the bank’s money back.  That’s what I call good work,” uttered Doc after taking a sip of the hot coffee.  “If you hadn’t pulled that piece of steel from the one man, he’d be dead by now.  As it is he’s fighting infection now, hopefully he’ll pull through.”
       I was shaking my head.  “With the gatherin’ for Thanksgivin’ they thought they pulled the perfect holdup.  Fortunately much of the townspeople were here and none were hurt,” I said then smiled.  “They didn’t know much to do with dynamite.  It’s a wonder they didn’t blow the whole buildin’ down.”
       Doc grunted before replying.  “We found pieces of the safe throughout the lobby, in the wall, in the ceiling, in the counter.  They were lucky that only one of them was hit by the flying debris.  By the way, when is the trial?”
       “Judge Klaser is out of town visiting relatives, isn’t he?” asked Molly.
       “Yeah, it won’t happen until he gets back and I’m not sure when that is supposed to be.  Charlie complains about them takin’ up cell space and eatin’ on the county’s expense and Lucas isn’t too keen on being their babysitter,” I responded smiling.  
       “The one I worked on was Rich Samuels.  He didn’t say much, pretty somber as I sewed him up.”
       “From what they told me, they were part of the Cloyd Martin gang.  Biff, his younger brother, is the other one down at the jail.  He’s the one I shot in the hand forcing him to drop one of the satchels of money.  The other two men were Les Fuller and James Polque.  I have a poster on Polque for murder in Louisiana and Texas.”
       “One thing for sure,” Doc stated, rubbing his chin then wiping his mouth with his fingers.  “That Biff fellow won’t have much use for that hand anymore.  The bullet hit dead center and splintered most of the bones in the hand.”
       Molly had been listening as she sipped her coffee.  “Shame, that folks go bad that way.  I don’t really understand why.”
       “Men’s hearts are bent on evil,” I replied.  “Unless they find Christ, there is no hope for them.  Now, I’m not sayin’ that they’re aren’t good folks who don’t serve the Lord, I’ve known several, but they still need a heart change.”
       Doc grunted while Molly swirled the last little coffee remaining in her cup around.  She reached over to pat my arm.  “At least you made it back before Christmas.”  
       Christmas had been good.  The last couple of years Molly and Marta along with Emelda helping cook made handpies and little burritos then went through the poorer areas of town, the barrio, and to the jobless miners to hand them out on Christmas morning.  Then Doc and Edith, the Golds, and the Ramirez family joined us for dinner at the diner.  This year Rev. Chapman and his wife Betty joined us.  I enjoy the time, even though I’m a person who normally likes to be alone.  Days like Christmas make me a little melancholy and I contemplate like I was doing before Doc came in.
       “So when’s the trip?” questioned Doc.
       I gave him a puzzled look.  “Trip?”
       Molly laughed, “He’s forgotten already.”
       Doc scowled at me, “You promised Alejo and Enrique that you’d take them hunting.  So, I’m asking when are you going?”
       I had forgotten about it.  I twisted the end of my moustache then blurted.  “Next week if the weather holds.”
       Doc and Molly looked at each other then both started laughing.  I thought about what I had said and didn’t see much humor in it.  
       Molly then got up to check the coffeepot on the stove behind me.  “I need to see how much coffee there is in the big pot in the kitchen and make some more for this one.  The noon rush will be starting.  I told Marta to take off to spend some time with Charlie and not to come in until 11:00.”
       She had just walked with the coffeepot back to the kitchen when through the entrance walked Lucas…