Sorrow is better than laughter, for sadness has a refining influence on us.” –Ecclesiastes 7:3 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     We were sitting in the office drinking the coffee Doc had made.  The door was open to the back cell room and when Lucius hollered out we could hear him plainly, “Doc, thanks for the coffee.  Yuh need to be teachin’ that kid how to make decent coffee.”

     I stood up moving to the doorway.  “That’s part of the price you pay for bein’ locked up.  Bad jailhouse coffee.  Fortunately for you, Doc is kind.”

     Lucas had a large grin on his face when I looked over at him, and gave me a nod.  The kid had grown up.  Yeah, he was still young, but he was gettin’ to fill out, and he was gaining experience.  

     My thoughts were jostled when the preacher came bursting back into the office.  “Doc, it’s the Widow O’Dell!  I think she’s frozen to death.”

     Doc took one long last swallow.  “Let me get my coat, and I’ll be with you.”

     “How’s Greta?” I asked stepping toward the preacher.

     Wide-eyed, he turned my direction, “Oh, she’s fine.  Plenty of firewood,” he said, then nodded toward Lucas.  “Seems that Lucas found the time to fill her kitchen full and there’s still plenty outside.”  He stopped, then added, “She thinks she might have lost some hens though.”

     I had already grabbed my coat to go with them.  As I left the office I saw that Lucas was throwing his coat on, and was coming to the front with a shovel.  Yep, the kid was going to be a good one.

     There was no need to hurry and in fact, with the deep snow we couldn’t go very fast.  If Mrs. O’Dell was dead there wouldn’t be much that could be done.  We didn’t bother knocking when we came to her house but walked right in to a room that felt like a meat-locker.  There Merry O’Dell sat, in front of a stove that was stone cold.  Looking around I saw wood in the corner, and that puzzled me.  

     Doc knelt by her to do his examination, whilst the preacher and I just looked on.  “I see wood, what do you think happened?”

     “She had been very depressed for several days,” answered the Parson.  “I wonder…”

     Doc stood up, turned to face us.  “I think she just up and died.  From what I can tell, she didn’t bother to feed the stove and fell asleep,” he stated bluntly.  “I’ll stop by Parker’s to let him know.  Since she’s frozen there’s no need to get her moved immediately.”

     “Doc, do you know if she had any family, left a will?” My mind was working.  It had been my experience to have to contact next of kin on numerous occasions.

     “I don’t know much about her family.  Dick was a prosperous man and left her well off when he died a year or so ago, but I only came around once or twice to see her,” responded Doc, scratching at his cheek.  “Shame,” he muttered, then headed toward the door.  “I’ll stop at Parker’s then go on home.  Edith will wonder what’s happened to me.”

     “Miles she has a will,” the Parson assured me.  “I’ve been ministering to her recently.  I’m not saying that this was a deliberate act, planned out, but I do think she did nothing to stop it.”

     “Convenient, huh,” I muttered.

     “You might say that.  She has been lonely since her husband died,” he stopped, to look at the woman seeming to rest peacefully in her chair.  Shaking his head, he spoke, “I don’t begin to understand.” The preacher paused, still shaking his head.  “I do know we have to trust in the Lord.  He is the righteous Judge.  Whatever He does and decides is right.” 

     “Amen to that, Parson,” I agreed.  “Where’s the will?”

     The preacher pointed to a room.  “It’s in a little desk in her bedroom.”

     “Why don’t you go get it, and then it might be a good idea if we shouldn’t check on some of the other elderly, especially those livin’ alone.”

     He nodded, then moved to the widow’s room.  In a few minutes he had returned holding a sealed envelope in his hands.  Returning to me, he stopped to look at the lady.  Reaching down he tried to adjust her hands, but she was too stiff.  With a sigh, he stood and began walking to the door.

     Following him outside, I wondered how…

It is better to spend your time at funerals than at festivals.  For you are going to die, and you should think about it while there is still time.”  –Ecclesiastes 7:2 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     It took twenty minutes to travel the short distance to Doc’s house as virtually nobody had been on the streets.  I saw a light on in Solly’s Emporium but the walks hadn’t been cleared.  Maybe since it had stopped snowing, movement in town would begin.  I smiled as I walked by Solly’s.  I had been meaning to ask him if the new name had improved his business.

     I banged on Doc’s door, and was quickly answered by Edith.  “Miles, what in the world are you doing out in this weather?” she questioned, while at the same time opening the door and waved me in.

    After taking off my hat, and wiping my boots off on the mat by the door, I replied, “I may be an ol’ grouch, but I don’t plan on hibernatin’ for the winter.  Besides, I need Doc up at the jail.”

    There was some movement coming from the kitchen.  Doc appeared from around the corner.  “Doc, you need to come with me.  The prisoner who was wounded is throwin’ fits.”

     “Give me a minute to put on some boots and grab my coat.  Edith, will you fetch my bag from the office?”  Fifteen minutes later we were trudging back up the trail I had made.  Because of that, walking was easier and we made better time.

     Lucas was adding wood to the stove and had kept the door to the cell room open so more heat could enter there.  Lucius was no longer sitting on top of his brother who was lying on the cot very still with his eyes open.  Lucas handed me the key and I hastily opened the cell for Doc to enter.

     “Doc, uh, is he dead?” questioned his brother.  “I’ve never seen anyone sleep with their eyes open, and I checked to see if he was breathing.”

     There was no answer as Doc was busy shedding his coat, then pulling out the stethoscope from his bag.  “Hmm, good, good…”

     Lucius turned to look at me; I just shrugged.  Doc put his hand over the man’s eyes then pulled downward.  It was successful and the man’s eyes closed, and a deep sigh came from him.  

     Doc scratched his cheek then looked at us.  “Tell you the truth son, neither have I.  He is in something which is called a comatose state.  I really don’t know much about it.  There are some studies being done back East, but it seems that the injury to his head caused it.”

     “Doc, he just jumped up, then started banging his head against those bars.  I had to force him down and after getting him on the cot sat on him so’s he couldn’t get up.  I thought he was going loco.”

     “Can I be of help?” came the voice from the doorway.  It was Rev. Chapman.

     “Sure, Parson, come on in,” replied Doc.  

     The preacher nodded at Lucius, greeted us, “Miles, Doc, Lucas…”  Walking over to the man he stiffened a bit then knelt down beside him.  Placing one hand on the man’s head, the other on his chest he began to pray.  In a few minutes the man took a deep breath, then another, then turned his head to the side to look at the preacher.  A half-smile formed on his lips then he closed his eyes.

     Lucius was watching, wide-eyed.  “What did you do to my brother?”

     “Just asked the good Lord to give the man rest, peace, and comfort.  Which I think is happening.”

     Doc stooped beside the sleeping man, then nodded at us.  “He’s sound asleep.  Let’s get on out and leave him be.”

     We walked out and Lucius continued with us until I put my hand on his chest.  Shaking my head, “Your home currently is in there.  Plus you need to keep an eye on your brother.”

     “Uh, Marshal, I don’t want to be a bother, but do yuh think we could have something to eat besides beans?  I know the kid means well, but there are only so many ways you can fix beans, oh, and by the way, he don’t know how to fix coffee.”

     “I’ll see what I can do,” then walked out to join the others in the office.

     Doc was questioning the parson about him being out in the weather.  

     “I need to be checking on my parishioners, plus anybody else who might need some sort of assistance.  Some of the older folk might be needing some help.  I’m heading over now to see Sister Greta.  Then on down the road just checking on others.”

     “Lucas, why don’t you run down to Peabody’s, see if he’s open, and buy something that you can cook up here for your prisoners.  Parson, when he gets back I’ll join up with you.”

     Doc was by the stove, holding the coffeepot.  “Think I’ll stay here a while, keep a check on the patient.”  He shook the pot, “and make up some coffee.”

A good reputation is more valuable than the most expensive perfume.  In the same way, the day you die is better than the day you are born.”  –Ecclesiastes 7:1 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

     I was trudging back through the deep snow that had fallen the past three days after checking on the horses.  They were comfortable in their stalls, but I had to spend some time mucking them out after the storm.  It was clearing and that meant the temperatures would drop.  I figured it would get down ’round zero tonight so I placed a couple of blankets on the backs of Hawk, Star, and Two-Bits, fed them some grain and oats and made sure they had plenty of water and hay.  Tomorrow I would let them out to romp in the snow.

     It was cold and the night would be even colder.  Before I entered the cabin, I picked up an armload of firewood.  That would save me at least one trip outside.  Entering the blast of warm air hit me, as well as the aroma of coffee, and biscuits.  Glancing over at the stove I saw that Molly was making sausage gravy for the biscuits.  She turned, smiling, holding up two eggs.  “These are the last two until I can get down to the diner.”

     Placing the wood near the fireplace I checked the kindling for the stove and saw that the box was almost full.  I then poked around the logs in the fireplace, moving them a bit then added a couple of the large pieces I brought in.  It was sure comfortable inside compared to being out in the cold.  My morning cup was still on the table.  I glanced in it, then went to the stove to retrieve the pot sitting there.  Molly was just finishing up so I headed to my chair at the table.

     Molly brought two platefuls of biscuits and gravy each with an egg on top.  We bowed our heads, and she offered the blessing for the food, for the life the Lord had provided, and for the coming year.  When she said that I had forgotten that we were now in a new year.  My mercy, where does the time go?  Had it really been fifteen years ago since I left Texas and the Rangers?  Don’t seem hardly possible.

     “There’s plenty of wood,” I mentioned before taking a large bite.  “I need to walk down to the jail to check on the prisoners.”

     “Do you really have to go?” she questioned.  “Isn’t Lucas staying there?”

     “I wouldn’t go, but they are federal prisoners.  Lucas is there and feeding them,” I stopped to laugh.  “I don’t know how good a cook he is, but for sure his coffee is terrible.”

     Molly gave a little cackle.  “Miles, anyone can heat up a can of beans.”

     “I probably would have let Lucius out, but he needed to care for his brother.  It was a good thing too, as Doc wouldn’t have been able to make it up to the jail.  I imagine with the snow no longer coming down that he’ll try today.”  I paused to take a swallow from the cup then hoisted another forkful of gravy with biscuit to my mouth.  After chewing and swallowing most of it.  “If they weren’t federal prisoners, the trial would have already been over.  I don’t know when the district judge will get here with all this snow.”

     “You go do your duty, and maybe, just maybe I’ll have us a butterscotch pie ready when you get back,” she informed me.

     My eyes lit up.  “A fella could get fat an’ lazy sittin’ ’round the house, nice and warm and cozy.”

     “Hmpf,” came the sound from her.  “No pie until you chop some more wood.  Leave the plate and get going.  The faster you get outta here, the sooner you’ll get back.”

     Within minutes I was on my way to the jail.  It took time with the heavy snow on the road.  I noticed on my walk that there was no one out.  The streets were full of snow and no one had ventured out.  I was pleased to see Lucas in front of the jail shoveling snow from the boardwalk.  

     He saw me approaching as he looked up from his work.  “Senor Marshal, I am so glad you are here.  The man, Mort, he has gone loco.”

     “What do you mean?” I asked opening the door.

     “Kid!  Is that you?  I need some help!” came the sound from the cell.  

     I opened the door to the cell room and saw Lucius sitting on top of his brother.  “Marshal, am I glad to see you…”

In the few days of our empty lives, who knows how our days can best be spent?  And who can tell what will happen in the future after we are gone?”  –Ecclesiastes 6:12 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     McBride made his train and went home for Christmas and things had settled down to normal, whatever that is, after the incident in the diner.  Two men walked in, catching me by surprise.  With one on each side of me there was no way I could get both men.

     But the Lord intervened.  I remember throwing myself off my chair to my left, drawing my gun at the same time.  When I looked for my assailant all I saw was the pot-bellied stove.  Then the voice of McBride rang out as he came from the kitchen.  “You touch that gun and you’ll never see another Christmas.”

     The man threw his hands in the air, but either the other man didn’t hear or see, or was just all-fire ready to do something stupid, and he jerked his gun.  I didn’t see what happened, but I heard a shot, and a thud as the man hit the wooden floor.  Slowly I pulled myself up, looking first at the man with his hands in the air, then to the one on the floor as I finally made my way to my feet.

     McBride came up behind the man to lift his pistol from his holster.  Then he pushed him with the barrel of his gun to a chair commanding him to sit and not move.  I watched as he checked him over for any other weapons which produced a knife from his belt.

     “You mentioned Lem Collins.  Who is he to you?”  I had shot Collins when I was arresting him for rustling cattle.  He resisted, but he couldn’t resist the piece of lead.  I didn’t kill him; he was spending time in the pen, but he does have a nice hole in his right shoulder.

     He wasn’t defiant with his answer, but he wasn’t overly joyous either.  “Lem was my cousin.  My aunt was heartsick when she heard the news, and I reckoned I should try to make it up to her,” he said with in monotone voice.

     “You got a name?” asked McBride as the two of us looked at him carefully.  McBride shook his head, and I went over to the man lying on the floor to check on him.  He hadn’t moved an inch, so I figured he was dead.

     As I was stooped down over him, Mateo and Doc came through the door.  “Get away!” ordered Doc, as he bent down taking over my ministrations.  There was a lot of blood.

I could hear Doc muttering but couldn’t make out a word he said.

     “Never seen the like,” he muttered.  “Hand me my bag.”  By now Molly and Emelda had emerged from the kitchen as Doc took out a bandage and began to bind it around his head.  Then he took another one to put against the wound on the man’s shoulder.  When he was satisfied, he stood looking down at the still unconscious man.

     “He alive?” I questioned.

     Doc scratched his cheek.  “Oh, yes, very much.  The bullet hit the top of his collar bone then glanced upward taking off a piece of his ear and making a nice groove along the side of his head.  He’ll come to in a short spell.”

     McBride came over, and Mateo had handcuffs on the other man moving him on out of the diner to the jail.  “Man said his name was Lucius Feeney.”  He nudged the man on the floor with his boot.  “This is his brother Mort.”

     Doc proceeded to pour himself a cup of coffee, while McBride and I took a chair at the table with him, waiting for Mort Feeney to gain consciousness.

     Well, that was all the excitement, nothing amounted to anything the rest of the week.  A heavy snow did come in which put off my hunting trip until after it settled.  Folks had mixed emotions regarding it.  The kids were excited for now they would have a white Christmas, and I warned Mateo to be ready for an attack by those rascals with snowballs.

     Christmas…why a thing like what happened could put a damper on it, but then when a person took the time to look at the big picture it only made more sense why Christ came to earth.  It was to put an end to the death-grip of sin.  Sure, it was still around, but now with the sacrifice of Jesus there was hope of redemption.

     Molly and me, why we hope to spend the morning at the diner feeding the derelicts and out of work miners, then sit in front of a cozy fire back in the cabin.  Maybe sneak a piece of pie from the diner, and drink some coffee.  Mainly relax, with her by my side, reminiscing and thanking the Lord for all He has done for us through the years.