The Saga of Miles Forrest

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
I entered the sheriff’s office and sitting at the desk talking to Lucas was a man from my past.  “Ring, Ring Carter!  What in the world are you doin’ here?  I thought you had done retired years ago.”
       He chuckled.  “No, I tried growing an orchard of apples.  Just did want to take care of them as it was hard for me to see them grow sitting in the rocking chair from the front porch.  So I went back to transporting prisoners.”
       Looking at what I was holding carefully, he asked, “That for me?”
       I smiled, “Nope, this is for the deputy here.”
       “So that’s what you do now?” he questioned.  “Deliver pies.”  
       I handed the pie over to Lucas who gave me a large smile.  He knew what I was trying to do and he nodded his head.
       “Yur here to pick up Samuels?”  I asked.  “He’ll need some watchin’ over with his injury.”  I then explained what happened and how Lucas and I apprehended them.
       He eyed Lucas over as the pie was devoured.  “How old are you boy?” he snapped.  
       Lucas ignored him as he finished the pie.  Then he licked the fork a couple more times before looking up at Carter.  “Senor, I am but a wee nino.”
       That started me to guffawing.  “Ring, he’s old enough to do a deputy’s job.  I’d have him on the train with me any time.”
       “Senor Carter, I am sorry for the way I answered.  I am almost eighteen.”
       Carter was rubbing the whiskers on his chin.  “Listen, I’m short a guard.  I could use you for a week or so,” he paused to look in my direction.  “What do you think Miles?
       I threw my hands open and shrugged.  “He’s hired by the county.  You’d have to talk with the sheriff, who should be coming this way shortly.”
       “I’ll have five prisoners with this one.  There shouldn’t be any problem but one of them is Martin Blue, scheduled to hand over when I get him to Canon City.  The other three are low-life’s wanted mostly for robbery, one for arson.”  He looked at Lucas.  “It’d pay you forty dollars plus travel expenses.”
       When he said that I saw Lucas’ eyes perk up.  He turned his attention to me, and fortunately at that time Charlie walked in.   Ring told Charlie the situation who glanced over at me.  “That would be up to Lucas here.  His decision.”
       “Good seein’ yuh again, Ring.  You take care, and if’n I were you I’d think some more about that rockin’ chair and orchard.”  I waved at Lucas then walked out the the door down the street toward the diner meeting Charlie along the way.  I told him the story, and said I could be riding on the train, just in case, but Lucas was a full-fledged deputy and also the age of a man.
       When I arrived at the diner the other guard, Jim Bellows, was getting sandwiches for the prisoners.  The train would be pulling out in an hour and I needed to let Molly know what was going on.
       “One of these days, Miles, you’re going to have to stop being a guardian angel,” she said chiding me.  
       I pulled her to me, “One of these days, but I feel I need to look after Lucas a while longer.  The prisoners and guards will be in the baggage car because Martin Blue is one of the prisoners.”  She looked up at me and I nodded, “Yes, he is bad.”
       Within the hour we were clickety-clacking along the rails.  There were two passenger cars and I was in the one furthest from the baggage car.  We would change trains in La Junta, and again in Pueblo.  I sat in the seat trying to recall if Blue had a gang that might try to free him, but from what I remembered he was mostly a loner.  Hopefully it would be a peaceful and uneventful ride…

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
Miles, let me look at your hand!” exclaimed Doc as I winced upon setting a cup of coffee down in front of him.  “My land, Miles, that finger is festering.  What did you do?”
       I pulled away from him and sat down with my cup.  I took a sip, then told him what happened.  “I think a cactus spine worked its way through my glove and down into my skin.  I can find it, and reckoned that it would eventually work its way out.”
       Doc grunted, “Yeah, if it doesn’t turn to gangrene first.  Molly, do you have any tweezers?”
       He moved his finger over my sore one.  I jerked some.  “It must be small and deep, but I can feel something, but I can’t see anything.  Molly, you look.”
       She pulled my hand close to her face and began to search for the miniscule log that was doing all the damage.  “I can’t see anything Doc.”
       “Why don’t yuh peench it?” came a voice.  I looked up and the whole room was watching Doc work on my finger.  The voice was from a miner who was standing on a chair to watch.  “Go ahead, Doc, peench it good.”
       Doc turned his head toward the voice.  “Not a bad idea,” he muttered.  “Now hold on Miles, this could hurt.”
       He pinched and pinched and he was right it did hurt.  “Doc, you’re not peenchin’ it hard enough.  Yuh want me to do it?”
       “No!  I don’t want you to do it!” he growled and with determination he pulled apart where there sore was, then pinched it for all that he was worth.  
       Then it happened, out of it gushed gunk and ooze and blood.  “Molly, try to grab something with those tweezers.  Keep trying until you pull something out,” he ordered.
       She tried a couple of times then on the third try she grasped hold of a small spine and pulled it out.  Small I say, it was a quarter-inch long when she laid it on the table.  My finger was already feeling better with all that pressure out of me.  
       “Don’t stop squeezin’ Doc!” yelled the miner again.  “Yuh got t’ get all that poison out.”
       I looked at the crowd.  Charlie was there, a couple of miners, along with a table of cowboys, even Mr. and Mrs. Polk the owner of the hardware store was watching.  Marta was looking on, and even Alena came from the kitchen.  I was nodding my head.  “Hurry and finish up, Doc.  I should have sold tickets.”  That brought a smirk from Marta and an outright chuckle from Alena which made me smile.
       Marta went to the kitchen to get something to wipe up the mess.  I was surprised that so much could come from a cactus spine in the finger.  Doc took it from her to wipe my finger first, then handed it back so she could wipe the table.  “You come over to the office so I can put something on that.  I’ve been reading something about antiseptics; it kills germs that cause infection.”
       “Why don’t yuh jist put a dab or two of that coffee that Miles keeps on the stove on it.  That’s shore ‘nough kill ’bout anything,” the voice coming from the miner who was still standing there watching, his partner having gone back to the table and his meal.
       Doc, Molly, and I looked over at him at the same time.  Molly laughed, but I asked, “Do I know you?”
       He rubbed his hand down his whiskered face a couple of times.  “Hopefully not by name for bein’ on a poster, but I did do yuh a service one time.  It was over by Tincup, you were shot an’ left for dead.  I cleaned up yur wound, stayed with yuh for a while until yur fever broke, then left.  I don’t reckon yu’d recollect any of that.”
       I touched the back of my shoulder.  I remember getting shot and a man taking care of me.  Never knew his name, can’t remember his face.  “Why didn’t you stick around?” I questioned.
       “No need to.  I did my service, then went back to my claim.  I saw that you’d be alright.”  He turned back to his table.
       I looked at Doc then over to Molly.  “He still didn’t give me his name.”  I got up to talk with him further and the two miners were already finished and gone with a gold nugget to pay for their meal.  I came back, juggling the nugget in my hand then handed it to Molly.  “This will pay for plenty of meals.”
       Molly was shaking her head, Doc was scratching his ear, then rubbed his chin.  “Well, he’s right about one thing.  That coffee you keep on the stove will cure you or poison you to death, and you’re still living.”  Marta was bringing a couple pieces of custard pie handing one to Charlie then setting the other plate down in front of me.  “You finish that pie then come see me at the office.”
       “I need to check on Lucas down at the jail first,” I told him.  
       “No, you stop by my office on the way to the jail,” he ordered, then got up to leave.
       Charlie had swallowed a piece of pie, then said, “I can go check on Lucas.”
       “No, I need to do it.  I need to talk to him.  Marta!” I hollered.  “Bring me another piece of pie.  I want to take it to Lucas.

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
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

by Ira Paine, Posted on
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…”