The Saga of Miles Forrest

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
I woke the next morning to a skiff of snow covering my bedroll and frost all around.  It made me glad I wore my coat to bed last night so I was warm, but now I needed to get up and face the cold and the day.  I pulled my boots from my bedroll, something I learned many years ago as there’s few things worse than pulling on cold boots early in the morning.  It was the beginning of graylight as I reached to touch the handle of the coffeepot to find the leftover coffee from last frozen.  It must be colder than I thought.  
       Picking up some twigs and small branches I had laid by the fire I shook the snow off then got down to business of starting a fire. I blew on my fingers to warm them and was ready to put a match to the tinder when a whiff of smoke touched my nostrils.  There was someone else in these ruins.  Putting the match back in my pocket I went to rouse Charlie from his slumber.  Stooping down I touched his shoulder.
       “Charlie, Charlie, wake up,” he started to say something for my cruelty in waking him to the cold.  “Shhh, I smell woodsmoke.”
       His eyes widened then he threw on his hat, pulled on his boots then fastened his gunbelt.  I pointed in the direction of the smoke.  I couldn’t tell exactly where it came from, just the general direction.  We moved slowly trying to detect where the smoke was coming from.  Charlie stopped suddenly, then nodded his head to indicate that the camp was on the other side of a broken down adobe wall.  He was right. I could see light in the dawn.
       It could be the outlaws, or it could be a Navajo boy with a group of sheep.  We crept to the edge of the wall.  I pointed toward one way.  Charlie nodded then headed off in that direction.  I moved down the wall in the other direction and we would come to the camp and have them in a crossfire if they were indeed the outlaws.  Charlie gave me a few minutes.  I had the longer route and there were several obstacles of wood, cactus, and broken adobe to heed my progress.
       Moving around the far end of the wall, I could make out two men kneeling by a fire, two more in a bedroll.  I knew there were five in the holdup, one was missing.  We held our positions, the cold starting to work on our bones.  I was getting ready to make a move when a sound came to my left of a man walking–the fifth man.  When he approached the fire I could see it was the bum who accosted Molly in the diner.
       I moved out from behind the wall.  Charlie moved at the same time.  “Easy boys,” he said calmly.  “Put up your hands nice and easy.”  
       The men looked in his direction.  Then from the corner of my eye I saw movement from one of the men in the bedroll.  He pulled a gun, firing it at Charlie.  Now, I surely hate to shoot a man in his bed, but I cut loose at him, both of my bullets hitting him, but he had started bedlam.  Charlie fired into the three men, all three of them were shooting, and they now knew I was behind them.  
       The man who had just entered camp ran and another joined them.  One was wounded in the leg for he limped.  The man I recognized grabbed up a bag from the bank and was mounting his horse bareback.  Charlie fired, hitting him in the hand causing him to drop the satchel.  The men who limped was able to mount and the two of them rode off escaping our fire.  Fortune had it for them; it seemed that Charlie and I had picked out the same man to throw lead at.  He was riddled with bullets.  
       Checking the man in his bedroll I found him dead as well.  Charlie and I looked at each other then went to the other man in his bedroll.  His eyes were closed and he was breathing shallow, perhaps trying to make us think he was already dead.  “Go ahead, Sheriff, shoot him to make sure,” I said urging Charlie.
       He fired, the bullet hitting near the man’s head.  He yelped, opened his eyes to holler, “Don’t shoot!”  Then came another groan from him.  He was the man who somehow was wounded in the explosion.  We pulled him out of his bedroll.  He had a gash under his ear and had crusted over with dried blood, but when he examined further we saw a piece of metal protruding from his leg.
       Charlie moved to build up the fire to help us see.  It was full graylight, but we needed the extra light.  Sticking out of his leg was a piece of metal, about five inches in width, but narrow.  It had pierced his leg.
       “How in the world did you ride with that in your leg?” questioned Charlie as he knelt down by the man.
       The man didn’t say anything, just looked at Charlie.  
       I pulled my knife to split his trousers.  It was an ugly mess.  A piece of the safe had torn into his leg.  His pants were soaked in blood.  I reached down, and before I could touch the metal, he hollered, “Don’t touch it!”
       “Mister, that needs to come out,” I stated.  “Riding a horse would move that around and could cut an artery.  Might have already.”  His eyes were wide.  I realized that as long as he didn’t move he could stand the pain.  
       I looked at Charlie shaking my head.  Neither of us knew how deep the metal was in his leg.  If Doc Jones was here he might be able to give the man something and cut it out then sew him up quick.  I pulled on my moustache then rubbed down my chin as I stared at Charlie.  I had one chance.  In a flash I moved my hand to grasp the metal piece and Charlie threw himself over the man’s body.  I jerked hard, causing a tremendous howl to come from the man, but the piece of metal was in my hand.  It was a piece about 5 by 6.  
       The man had yelled, but now was breathing heavily, but with the metal removed from his leg he was already feeling some relief.  Charlie went to the fire, the water for the coffee was boiling.  He pulled off his bandanna, placing about two-thirds of it in the water then brought it to me.  It was hot, but I grabbed where it was dry and began to wash off the wound.  The man yelped again, but it soon went to moaning.  I cleaned it as good as I could, then took my own bandana and wrapped it around the wound, tying it off.    
       “What about the other two?” asked Charlie.
       I was taking the man’s bandana off to bind the wound tighter.  “Figured you could take these three back to Durango.  I’ll follow after those two.  Riding bareback they won’t get far.”
       Charlie started to protest.  “Take them home, see Marta.”
       He gave a grim smile, then nodded his head.
       “Better get that arm cleaned up before you see her,” I told him.  He had not realized that a bullet had grazed his left arm.  In all of the shooting, we were fortunate that that was the only wound.  Within the hour Charlie was headed with two dead men and one severely wounded toward home and I was on the trail of the other two fugitives.
 
       “Sit down Marta, we need to talk!” ordered Molly.  The evening rush was over and Emelda had left for the day.  It was only Molly and Marta in the empty diner.  
       Marta made some smart remark in Spanish, she snapped, “I have nothing I wish to talk about!”
       Molly seized her arm forcing her to plunk down in a chair.  “Maybe you don’t, but I do!”

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
I had just come from sending a telegram to Felix Wilcox, the U.S. Marshal for the New Mexico/Arizona Territory.  I wanted him to know about the robbery and that the outlaws were headed for New Mexico.  Since they had quite an abundance of money I would expect them to head for one of the larger towns so they could spend some of it.  When they came to town I went through the wanted posters and didn’t find one that matched any of them…but I knew their faces.
       Walking in the diner I went to the stove for a last cup of coffee.  The snow was falling and it was going to be cold on the trail.  I hoped it didn’t snow too much to wipe out their trail.  Five riders wouldn’t be too hard to track.  Molly was standing outside the kitchen, and put her arms on my chest so I wouldn’t go in.  I hadn’t planned on it, but I could hear Marta and Charlie arguing.
       “You don’t have to go!” she almost screamed.  “It is out of your jurisdiction!”
       “Not until they go into New Mexico, but that doesn’t make a difference.  They robbed a bank here in Durango.  Durango, our home.  They desecrated our home and the lives of our friends, I have to go.  Don’t you see?”
       “No!” she spat.  “I don’t see.”
       I could hear the exasperation in Charlie’s voice.  “Marta, I don’t want to leave with us arguing.”
       “What is it that you want then Sheriff?  A kiss like Molly and Miles.  Bah…” she turned away from him sobbing.  “Leave, go your way.”
       Molly and I hurried from the door, we didn’t want them to think we were eavesdropping.  We just happened to be standing there and overheard their discussion.
       I poured another cup standing next to Molly.  She had a burlap bag with some sandwiches in it for us.  I picked it up and we waited for Lucas to bring the horses by.  It would take him a few minutes.  Charlie kept his gear at the livery while mine was up at the cabin.  Lucas would make sure we had everything we needed for the trip.
       An hour after the robbery we were ready to mount and hit the trail.  Molly gave me a hug and a kiss and I could feel the eyes of Charlie on us.  “Be careful, Miles.  Go with God,” encouraged Molly as we stepped out into the cold.
       Neither of us said anything as we headed on the road that headed south of town.  Darkness was moving in early because of the snow.  The days were shorter anyhow and I hoped to make it as far as the ruins.  I was getting to know them fairly well, it would be my third time through them in the past year or so.  
       When we came upon the ridge that would lead us down to the I raised my hand for us to stop.  “Do you see anything?” I asked as dusk was upon us.
       Charlie leaned out over the head of his horse, as if that would allow him to see things more clearly then shook his head.
       “I thought I saw some light.  Keep watch.  This would be a good place for them to hold up, especially if one of them is wounded,” I said then gave Hawk a nudge.
       Navajo had used these adobes, but I heard stories that they were here even before the Navajo.  It would have been a substantial community, but now all that was left were walls and broken pottery laying here and there.  There was no water that I knew of so we had a dry camp watering the horses out of our canteens.  Tomorrow we would find water so I went ahead and got the coffee ready while Charlie was putting together a fire.  He kept it small, just large enough for the coffeepot.  I didn’t think it would hurt to have it a bit larger as it was going to get cold during the night, but I could understand his caution, especially if the men we were chasing were somewhere in the ruins.
       We sat close to the fire, sipping the hot coffee.  Our collars were turned up on our coats to keep the cold breeze from going down our necks.  Charlie hadn’t said a word, except maybe a grunt or two.  I knew where his mind was.
       “It’s goin’ to be cold tonight,” I muttered trying to get conversation started.
       All I received was a grunt.  “Miles, how did you get Molly to accept your job?” he blurted out of the blue.  “I suppose you heard Marta in the kitchen.  I don’t know what to do.”
       “Pray about it,” I said calmly.  “If you can talk without fighting, tell her your feelin’s.”
       Charlie threw the remains of his coffee up against a wall.  “That’s part of the problem.  She doesn’t want to talk about it.  If I bring it up, she yells, or walks off in a huff.”
       I pulled the pot off the fire, stirred it up some and placed a branch on it.  The wood caught quickly and flamed up.  I wasn’t going to add any more and that wouldn’t last.  It would give us enough light that we could get inside our bedrolls.
       The snow had stopped and for that I was thankful, but that meant that the temperature most likely would drop.  When morning came it would be cold.  I made sure that there was plenty of wood for the fire in the morning.  
       Laying on my back I looked up in the cloud covered sky.  “Lord, be helping Charlie and Marta,” I muttered.  “They’re good friends and I don’t know how to help.”

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
Marta was standing outside the back of the diner, head bowed with her chin in one hand.  “Marta,”
       “Molly, not now,” she snapped, lifting her head but gazing straight ahead.
       “All right, but at least put on a coat.  You’ll catch your death of cold out here,” came Molly’s soft reply.  She then turned going back inside the diner.  When she came back to the diner she gave me a shrug then picked up the coffeepot to refill the ruffian’s cups.  A few minutes later Marta came over to the table where Doc and I were still sitting.  Most of my attention was focused on the men at the table.  I knew in my gut that they were trouble.  It wasn’t until Marta pulled out a chair and sat beside me at the table that my attention went to her.
       She laid her hand on my arm, “Doc, Senor Miles, you are my dear friends,” she paused to heave a sigh.  “I am struggling, please bear with me.”
       When I looked at her she had tears in her eyes.  Taking my arm from under her hand I reached around her to give her a hug.
       “Whoooeee!” came a voice from the table of men.  “I’ll take some of that.”
       I was ready to jump to my feet, but Molly had already taken care of the man for there was a loud yelp with him jumping from the table.  It seemed that Molly spilled some of the hot coffee on him.  He was ready to grab for her when a man at the table yelled, “Clem, sit yourself down!  You had it coming.  You just can’t keep your mouth shut.”  I watched the quick interaction between the two men.
       The one called, Clem, sat down wiping out his wet trousers.  He glared at Molly, “I’ll see you again,” he snarled.  “You best hope I’m not blistered.”
       It was time for me to get involved.  I leaped to my feet and was over to their table in a few strides positioning myself next to the man.  “Mister,” I said, nudging him with the Greener of which he took notice as did the other four men.  “You want to hang on to your teeth, you best not go ’round threatenin’ ladies.”
       “Yeah, and if…” 
       I raised the Greener ready to swing it when what must have been the head man, told him to settle down.  “Mister,” he stammered some, looking for a name to call me.
       “I apologize for my friend here.
       My eyes went to the man speaking and I nodded.  “See that you do.”
 
       Thursday was a great day.  I don’t know where all those miners and cowboys came from, but they filled the diner over and over.  It was a good thing that Cecil Thompson brought over a steer he slaughtered to help us out for the feast.  I think he must have brought his whole crew.  I was kinda surprised to see Keim there.  He came to thank me for taking care of Shaw.  He pointed to a man who was limping; it was the first time I’d seen Parson’s since he’d been shot.  “Bronc-ridin’ is over for him, but he can still sit in the saddle.”
       Darnelle, true to her word, had her uncle down to the diner.  Wilson was smiling so much that the tears came when people began to gather around him.  Wishing him well.  I think Elizabeth was overwhelmed as well.  I would look from time to time but the Newsomes never showed up.  I wished they had.  These people held nothing against them, and if they were here they would have seen that.
       We put Wilson to work taking donations.  Since Molly had been doing this for years all the money taken in would be given to Parson Chapman’s church.  He said he planned on sharing it with the other church in town.  Mateo and family all came and because of that several from the barrio decided to join with us.  It was a grand time, the eating, and fellowship.  The Parson led those in the diner in several songs.  People came and went and it was a good day.
       Edith had taken Molly’s place, giving her some relief.  She came over to where I was standing and I put my arm around her.  I pointed out Charlie to her, helping Marta dish out chili.  They were smiling and laughing, nudging each other while they were serving.  I was just getting ready to tell Molly something when there was an explosion that rattled the windows.
       I grabbed the Greener and ran out not thinking about the cold.  There was smoke coming a block or two south of the diner.  Mateo and Charlie were right behind me as we ran.  It was the bank.  We got there as we saw five riders mounting up and heading out of town.  This was a time I wished I had my rifle rather than a shotgun.  One man stopped, turned his horse and fired at us, the bullets not coming close.
       We entered the bank noticing the destruction.  I saw some blood on the side of the counter, and I prayed that it was not someone connected to the bank.  Thankfully we found no bodies, so I figured the blood must be from one of the robbers.  They set too high a charge and weren’t expecting the blast.  Lucas was right next to me.  Placing my hand upon his shoulder, “Go saddle Hawk and your Uncle’s horse.  Bring them down to the diner.”
       It was then I shivered since I didn’t have on my coat.  It was cold and beginning to snow…

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on

Thursday promised to be a grand day.  Several men had been out hunting so there was plenty of venison, elk, and even bear for the meal.  Maybe some time someone would take a notion to start a turkey farm, but until then we’ll continue to eat wild game.  I remember a few times I was fortunate enough to shoot some grouse and prepared them for the Thanksgiving table.
       “You gonna sit and day-dream all day?” came the voice of Doc Jones that brought me back to reality.  I was warm and comfortable sitting by the stove and drinking coffee.  Maybe I was getting too comfortable for my age and should be out sleeping in the cold, freezing near to death.  Nah, did that too many times, I think I’ll choose comfort, but don’t want to forget where the Lord has brought me from. 
       “I think I saw those miscreants you mentioned around town,” he uttered, rubbing his chin.  “You want to know what I think?  I think they’re up to no good.  You better keep an eye on them.”
       He didn’t give me a chance to answer his question, but when he finished I replied.  “Doc, that’s just speculation.  Jumpin’ to conclusions.”  But I knew he was right.  “I told Charlie and Mateo about them.  They’re aware of the situation.  Besides, what do you want me to do?
       “Nothin’!” he roared.  “Just sit there and drink your coffee!”
       Molly happened to come by when Doc went on his tirade.  “Doc, what’s rilin’ you?”
       His face turned grim.  “This town.  They won’t hire a good marshal.  They won’t hire Miles here, and then I get all worked up and take it out on him,” he said, then paused to look at me.  “Miles, I’m sorry…but I’ll tell you this, something’s going to happen.”
       Molly smiled, then asked me.  “Did you ask John and Jewelene to come over Thursday?  And…”
       “And yes, I talked with Wilson and Elizabeth.  He said he would have to think it over.  It might depend upon the weather,” I informed her.  “I went to see Darnelle tellin’ her that I wanted them to be our special guests and I didn’t want Wilson to be makin’ any excuses.”
       “For that, husband of mine, you get a kiss,” she looked around to make sure there weren’t any customers watching, then pecked me on the cheek.

       There was a groan from Doc, “Come on you guys, cut the mush.”
       “Lucas and Mateo have already told me that they would personally carry Wilson down to the diner,” I said with a laugh. 
       Doc joined in, “I would almost pay to see that.”
       We were enjoying laughing when Marta came by.  “Is that all you’re going to do all day, sit around and laugh while I do all the work?” she asked smartly.
       The eyebrows on Doc’s face raised when he heard the smart remark from Marta.  “Why no, Marta,” replied Molly.  “What is it that I can help you with?  I notice that there is only one table with customers.  Is that too much for you to handle?”
       Daggers shot from Marta’s eyes.  She threw the washcloth she was carrying over her shoulder then stomped off to the kitchen.  Molly was shaking her head.  “I shouldn’t have said that.  She and Charlie are still fighting over the fact that he is sheriff and is now planning on resigning.  Then throw Lucas into the mix.”
       “What do we do?” asked Doc seriously.  
       Molly reached over the table to take Doc by the hand.  “Pray, Doc, pray…and be her friend.”
       I saw Doc wink at her and nod when the door blasted open and the hardcases walked in finding a table next to the window.  Molly hastened to her feet then headed to their table.  The men were chattering when she approached to take their order.  I watched while each of them gave their order, but noticed that two were leering at Molly.  Doc was watching as well and I heard him grunt in disgust.  Molly left to grab cups from the counter taking them back to the table, then went to retrieve the coffeepot to fill their cups.
       She was moving around the table, doing her job when I saw one of the men pat her backside.  Molly stopped, “You try something like that again and you’ll feel this hot pot against the side of your face,” she hissed.  Glancing my way, she shook her head letting me know that she had it under control.
       To try and calm the situation she asked, “You gentlemen in town on business, looking for work?”
       That brought a laugh from one man, “You could say we’re passing through on the way to a job.”
       She continued to banter with them asking.  “What kind of work are you in?  You don’t look like cowpunchers to me.”
       The same man started to reply when the one facing me, who had a granite face, jabbed him in the ribs.  “Ma’am just bring our food.”
       He had caught me staring at them, our eyes met and held for several seconds as Molly left for the kitchen.  Finally he turned to join in the conversation at the table.  There was no more talk when minutes later Molly brought their food.  After serving them, she came by the table.  “I’m going out back.  Marta’s not in the kitchen…”