“So Phillips is going a good job up in Silverton,” I questioned Charlie between sips of coffee.

       Charlie had been up to Silverton as there had been some trouble.  Bob Phillips was marshal of Silverton, he had no outside jurisdiction of the smaller communities in the area or the large mines that were outside Silverton.  That put the job to the sheriff–Charlie Gold.  He had a large and rough area to oversee; from Silverton down to Durango and then over to Telluride.  Most of the time he didn’t have to worry about Durango, but currently the town had no marshal.  I helped him out some, but was hesitant to take on the duties of town marshal even if it were offered me, which I doubted it would be.

       “I will give Bob credit though,” Charlie related.  “If a crime took place in Silverton and the man left the town, Bob would go after him.  He felt that because the crime took place in his jurisdiction he still had the right to chase down the culprit.

       “Sounds like a good man to have on the job,” I replied, trying to remember what I knew about Bob Phillips.

       Customers had started leaving so Molly came over to sit for a few minutes.  “What are you men talking about?” she inquired purposely saying men to include Lucas.

       “The Sheriff here was tellin’ me how good a job the marshal in Silverton is doin’,” I informed her, then looked at Charlie.  “Who’s his deputy again?”

       “Shy Williams,” he responded with a smile.  “One thing he’s not shy about is pulling a gun if needed.  That’s what worries me about Phillips.  He refused to carry one.  Oh, he’ll take a shotgun with him if needed, but feels if he has one on his hip he’s a target from any want-t’-be gunman.”

       I caught Molly looking over at Lucas.  My what a difference a couple of years could make.  What a difference some hard experiences could make.  He used to cut wood for the diner and for others around town.  He still takes care of my horses, but he is very conscientious about his duties at the jail.

       “You’re probably glad your uncle’s home, aren’t you Lucas?” inquired Molly.  “I’m sure Marta is.”

       “Si, I guess so,” he replied in sort of a sour manner.

       Molly glanced at me, but I decided to let his comment ride.  “Was the pie good today?” she again inquired of Lucas.

       A large grin appeared on his face.  “Senora Forrest, when is your pie not good?”  That brought a giggle and smile from Molly.  She was used to me complimenting her on her cooking and especially her pies, but it was especially nice coming from Lucas.

       His face turned serious and he asked me a pertinent, but hard question.  “Senor Miles, why are there so many evil men in the world?”

       Molly’s eyebrows arched, and I glanced at Charlie.  “You remember the Garden, when Adam and Eve sinned against God, and then a while later Cain killed his brother Abel?”  He nodded his head.

       “Well, in the course of time, I think that men, instead of turnin’ back to their Creator, began to see how bad they could be.  They purposely, at times, seem to want to outdo the other in regard to meanness and evil.”

       He acted as if he understood, until his next question.  “But why?”

       Now, “why?” is an important question, but at times it can become very annoying.  Why this?  Why that?  Why not?  and on it can go.  Lucas wasn’t doing that, and I didn’t take it that way, but I sorta squelched beneath his question.

       “Lucas, the ol’ devil, wants to destroy any good on this earth.  Evil is his means of doin’ so,” I informed him.  

       I was waiting for his next question when Jimmy Hopkins rushed through the doorway hollering, “Sheriff Gold, Sheriff Gold!”

       Charlie waved and Jimmy ran over to him with a telegram.  While Charlie was opening it I tossed the kid a short bit to which I was rewarded with a face full of excitement.  He ran off holding up the dime.

       He dropped the telegram on the table.  “I need to run back to Silverton.  It seems…

I didn’t know where Lucas had shot the man, but he was losing blood.  As I now moved through the rocks I could see traces of it swiped alongside the boulders.  If he was in as bad a shape as I thought, he could bleed out in the darkness and the coyotes would find him for sure.  I needed to get to him, maybe give him a chance to survive.

       Any place along here he could wait and ambush me so I moved slowly.  The thought was in my mind to rush and find him, but I knew that that could be setting a death trap for me.  Slow and patient, that’s the way I had to work.

       “Mister,” I hollered.  “This is Deputy U.S. Marshal Miles Forrest.  You need to give yourself up.  I know you’re hit hard.”

       Silence.  I waited before moving for he now knew I was following him, and he had an approximate idea of where I was.

       “You need a doctor.  You don’t want to bleed out and become a feast for the varmints,” I yelled again.  Still no response.

       As I moved around the edge of a rock, I heard the shot but felt the spray of rock fragments hit my face moments before.  I wasn’t hurt, just stung a little, but I could see he wasn’t ready to give up.

       I hollered to him, “I can wait you out.  I imagine the coyotes are already smelling your blood and getting ready for the night’s supper.”

       “That kid kilt my brother!” he wailed.  

       “Your brother was a no good horsethief whose intent was to kill the kid.  He was looking to die, if not by the kid’s hand then someone else’s,” I hollered, then paused waiting for a few seconds.  “You didn’t set a very good example for him.  In reality it was you that got him killed.”

       “Come on an’ get me, lawdog.  I’ll take you to Hades with me,” his voice not as strong as before.  

       I waited as I expected he was set somewhere ready to shoot as soon as I appeared in his sights.  “Nah, I’ll just wait you out.  Where you take the bullet, in the guts?”

       “Hit me low down, just below the gunbelt,” he answered.  “You’re a coward Forrest.  Come and get me!”

       He must be in bad shape.  The bullet hit in front of his hip, the bullet probably still in him as the pelvis must have stopped it.  The bone could be broken, it was hard to tell.  I did know he was dragging one leg a bit.  “I’ll come and get you when I know you’ve drained out.  Might be a while, I don’t want to take chances.  The buzzards might start working on you before I get there.”

       That should get his attention for there were a few now flying high in the sky.  They had him spotted.  “I’ve fought Indians plenty of times.  They taught me to be patient, especially when I have a wounded man cornered in the rocks.”

       The tip of the sun finally dropped below the horizon.  I had only about thirty minutes of light left before darkness settled in covering the rocks.  Off in the distance west the colors were now fading.  I needed to get to the man.  I knew he couldn’t get back down the way he went up, and I didn’t think he was strong enough to move across the rocks to get back to his horse.

       “I’ll come get your body in the mornin’. . . or what’s left of it,” I shouted then made a sound as if I was going back down to my horse.   After a few steps I waited then moved up on the right side of the rocks.  They were now in the shadows and I hoped he couldn’t not see me.  I moved slowly for it is movement that brings attention.

       “Forrest!” he screamed.  “Forrest, don’t leave me like this!  Forrest!”

       I didn’t answer, but ever so slowly moved toward his voice.  Then I saw movement, a foot was pulled back and he was attempting to rise.  I was tempted to put a bullet in his foot, but he was already suffering.  A gun fell and clattered on the rocks.  “Forrest, don’t leave…” he moaned then fell forward.

       Rushing to him, I felt to see if he was breathing.  Slightly.  He had banged his face and head on the rocks as he fell and I had a time rolling him over  to check his wound since his head was facing downslope.  I recognized him as the man who visited Lucas and my camp.  

       I rose to go for my canteen, when his hand grabbed the leg of my pants.  “Too late,” he breathed.  “Joey was my brother’s name…Joey Abrams.”  He stopped, his breathing now very shallow.  I leaned closer for it was hard to hear.  “Good boy, yur right, I was a bad example.”

       He tried to force a smile.  “My horse, stolen. . . give it back to the owner.  Tell them Todd Ab….”

       Those were his last words.  I picked up the body and tossed it over his horse, then in the last light I saw the brand.  The horse belonged to Bill Lowell and had been stolen several weeks back.  A last deed, a good one trying to make up for a life of deviltry.  I hoped in my heart that he asked a prayer of forgiveness from his Maker before looking consciousness, for a good deed won’t cover sin, only the blood of the Son of God.

       I mounted Star.  There was no need to stay the night out since I was only a couple of hours away from Durango.  I gave Star a little nudge, then a sound broke through the night–the mournful cry of a coyote.

It took me a while to round up Star.  The horses were grazing at the far end of the pasture and I couldn’t get his attention.  Either that or he was ignoring me while enjoying his lunch.  However, whenever he lifted his head and I waved he came a-running as did Hawk and Two-Bits.  My, how Star loved to run.

       I went ahead and got my bedroll and other gear.  Since it was later in the day I figured I might have to spend the night out.  I didn’t think the miscreant could have made it too far, bleeding as he was, but I didn’t want to go out unprepared.

       We went on down to the diner as soon as I had him saddled and my gear stowed.  I wanted to let Molly know the situation.  After loosely tying Star to the hitching post I went and and if I had been wearing false teeth they surely would have fallen out.  There was Lucas, sitting over at my table eating chocolate pie.  Both Marta and Molly were sitting there with him.

       “What in the world!” I declared.  Lucas, what are you doin’ here?”

       “What does it look like?” snapped Marta.

       I felt my jaws go tight.  “You need to get back and repair that door frame and wash the blood off the floor.”

       “Senor Miles, Lucas is hurt, plus the fact is, he don’t work for you!” she fumed.

       I glared at him, then turned my attention to Marta.  “If’n he did I’d fire him on the spot right now, poor nino.”

       Lucas’ ears reddened when I called him a “baby.”  I had been referring to him as a man, and rightly he was, but Marta was treating him like a little boy.  Here he had been in a gunfight, helped recover rustled horses, and shot someone trying to kill him, and she is coddling him like a baby.

       “Leave him alone, Senor Miles.  He will no longer work for you.”

       I smiled, and that made her fume even more.  “Thought you just said he didn’t work for me.”  My attention went back to Lucas.  “Your decision,” was all I said.

       Molly sat there, not saying a word, for which I was thankful.  I looked at her.  “I’m packed.  I don’t plan to be gone long, but gettin’ this late start it’ll probably be tomorrow sometime before I get back.”

       She got up without saying a word and went to the kitchen.  I knew she was fixing me food to take along.  It was only a couple of minutes, but with the hostility of Marta and now Lucas sitting there with his head down it seemed like a half hour before she returned.

       I should have left well enough alone, but I blurted out, “Marta, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you’ve been sour the last couple of weeks.”  With that she started crying.  Molly motioned with her head that I should leave while she put her arms around the weeping Marta.  Lucas sat there–dumbfounded.

       Soon Star and I were on the road and I had him at a fast gait, but after we went over the hill into New Mexico I slowed him down.  I needed to find a trail to follow.  I could see horse tracks that had recently come out of Durango and reckoned they belonged to the horse I was following.  We were coming up to the ruins where I had a run in with some malo muchachos.  I looked closely thinking he might have pulled off into the ruins.

       I rode around both sides of the road a while then spotted tracks and a host of blood on a large sage.  The horse he was riding was moving slowly; the man must have been in bad shape.  He would surely know that someone would be following him.  I pulled Star to a stop and dismounted, walking over to the edge of a ridge I stooped low to look not wanting to silhouette myself against the skyline.  There were rocks on both sides of the trail I had to travel–a good place for an ambush.

       Going back to Star, I mounted and slowly headed him down the trail that led off the ridge.  Half-way down I saw blood brushed alongside a rock.  Then a few yards further I saw plenty of blood on the ground.  He either fell from his horse or dismounted.  I looked up toward where the sun should be noticing that it was below the ridge.  Soon it would be graylight.  I needed to find him now.

       Several yards further down on the trail I came upon his horse grazing at a small tuft of grass.  As I dismounted…

I pressed myself hard to the side of the adobe wall.  “Lucas!  It’s Marshal Forrest.  Don’t shoot!”  I hollered.  “Lucas!”

     “Si, I hear you, Senor Marshal.  Eets all right, come in,” came his reply.”

     Before I entered I noticed drops of blood at the threshold of the door.  I didn’t rush in, but hesitated and peeked inside the entrance.  I saw Lucas, standing along the frame of the doorway to the inner office holding the left side of his face.  Blood was dripping.  There was a rifle in his other hand.

     There were some now gathering outside the jail.  I grabbed a man.  “Go get Doc Jones!” I ordered then pushed him toward the street.

     Upon entering I saw the chair that was normally behind the front desk was knocked over and from what I could tell standing there, a bullet had smashed into it.  Lucas, started toward me.  “Go back inside the office and sit down!” I commanded.  He turned and I followed him.  Passing the frame I saw where a bullet had hit it and splinters were sticking from it.

     “Sit on the desk and take your hand away and let me see how bad you’re bleeding.”

     “No, don’t touch it,” he whined.  

     “I’m not goin’ to touch it.  I just want to have a looksee,” I assured him.  When he removed his hand, I told him to look at me.  “Can you see me?”  I saw that he had some splinters from the door frame embedded in the side of his face, and I was concerned about his eyes.

     “Si, Senor Miles, the bullet hit the frame where I was standing.  I think it throw my aim off as I fired the at same time the bullet splattered on the frame.  It knocked me to the side.”

     “You didn’t miss him, but he was able to drag himself out of here and get away.  As soon as Doc Jones gets here, I’ll be on my way to catch him.”

     Doc Jones and Marta arrived at the same time.  They both started hollering at the same time, and I couldn’t make sense of either.  My ears did catch the words of Marta.  “Lucas, you’re bleeding!  I knew I shouldn’t have let you work here.”  The main reason I paid attention to her was the glare I received after she looked at Lucas.  

     He tried to shrug her away, but she wouldn’t let go until Doc pulled her from him.  “Here, the two of you let me look at,” he hesitated, for he almost said boy, “this young man.”

     Doc took a piece of white cloth from his bag and handed it to Marta.  “Could you wet this please?”

     “Water in the basin in the outer office,” I interjected.

     She returned in a few seconds giving the cloth to Doc.  “Just going to wipe the blood from your face so I can get a better look.  You just hold still.”

     “It sorta hurts, Senor Doc,” came the response from Lucas.

     He gave a grunt, placing the cloth on the table and pulled out some tweezers from his bag.  “Well, Lucas, it’s going to hurt just a little bit longer.  You grab hold of the edge of that desk while I pull these splinters out.  There’s a couple of big ones, and a few smaller ones.”

     Doc jerked, and Lucas let out a yelp.  “That’s one of the big ones, now for the other,” Doc said to no one in particular.  Then I saw him touch the largest of the splinters with his tweezers and looking Lucas in the eyes which were wide in anticipation.  Doc jerked again, pulling the splinter, but this time there was not a sound from Lucas.

     Picking up the wet cloth he dabbed at the blood on the cheek cleaning it again.  “The rest won’t be so bad.  It’ll take me only a minute or so.”

     Marta was standing close to Lucas, in fact it seemed that she kept moving closer.  Doc stopped his work, then turned to her.  “Marta, please!  Give me some room.  Your brother’s all right.”

     “Hmmm, hmmm,” came the sound from Doc then he scratched the side of his face next to his ear.  “Lucas, there’s one deeply embedded and I’m going to have to cut it out.  I can’t grab it to pull it out.  It’ll only take a second.”

     He reached inside his bag bringing out a razor.  “Grab the desk,” and then he used the blade to slightly cut the face of Lucas, bringing forth more blood.  Quickly Doc placed the razor down, picked up the tweezer and pulled out the last splinter.  He used the wet cloth to wipe his face again then told Lucas to hold the cloth tightly against his face.  Doc then reached inside his bag bringing out two bottles and after looking at both of them, he chose a small, brown bottle.

     “Let me have the cloth,” he ordered.  He poured a small amount of brown liquid, iodine, on the rag and then rubbed the wounds on Lucas’ face.

     “Yeoww, that burns!”

     Another grunt from Doc, “Quit being a baby, you’re embarrassing me.”  Then he chuckled.  “You’re good to go, Just keep that cloth on your face until the bleeding stops,” he instructed then slapped Lucas on the leg.

     Purposely, I think, Doc got in the way of Marta who wanted to hug the boy giving me time to step in.  “Lucas, tell me what happened.” 

     “I was standing by the wall, over there where we keep the posters and this man came in.  Senor Miles, it was the man from the trail.  He said something, like, ‘you’re the reason my nephew is dead, now it’s your turn’.  He drew his gun and I kicked the chair.  It gave me the chance to get in the office for he shot at the chair, then fired at me, hitting the door frame.  By that time, I had my rifle, I had laid it on the desk, and fired back at him,” he paused and waited a moment before continuing.  “I was stunned, I prayed that he wouldn’t come inside the room, then I heard you holler.”

     I didn’t look at Marta.  “You did a good job Lucas.  He won’t get far.”

     Nodding at Doc, I moved out of the room to allow Marta to smother Lucas.  I headed on up to saddle Star…