Charlie and I met with Wallace, the president of the bank, along with two of the major mine managers.  I suggested that they send out notices to hire a city marshal and a town doctor.  I didn’t think they would have much problem filling either position, but they would have to be careful with the character of the marshal.  Many mining communities have been swindled and held hostage by an unscrupulous marshal.

       The only one of the three I knew was Jakub Brewlinski.  He and I went back as far as when I worked for Wells Fargo–a good man, tough, honest, and dependable.  Chadwick Morgan was the other manager in attendance and I had never met him before.  My contact with Wallace was only casual.

       Jakub was nodding his head in agreement with me when Wallace blurted out, “I’ve already taken action to secure a marshal,” he paused, swallowing before continuing, “at least temporarily.”

       That took the four of us by surprise.  I guess it was within his right as Silverton didn’t have a city council or commission.  Things happened and changed so fast that there was hesitation on the part of many to have such a structure.  The big mine owners through their managers usually took charge.

       Wallace glanced quickly at Charlie then over to me.  “It’s not that we don’t appreciate what you two have been doing, but we know the Sheriff can’t stay here forever, and I hear that you, Forrest are leaving this week,” he spluttered.  “We need action now, so I contacted a man in Denver and he’s agreed to be marshal.”

       I turned my head slightly toward Charlie, then Jakub spoke up.  “This man have a name?”

       Wallace sort of ducked his head, but then lifted it and thrust out his chest like a rooster.  “Masterson!” he declared.

       “You mean the gunman, Bat Masterson?” inquired Morgan.

       Quickly Wallace answered, “He’s honest, he’s dependable, and he has a reputation.”

       Chuckling, I added, “And he’s not cheap.”

       I knew Masterson from the times I’d spent in Denver.  What they said about him was true, but I figured it would come with a price.  So did Jakub as he questioned, “Just how much is this going to cost the mines?”

       Wallace was shaking his head.  “Not a dime,” he declared proudly.  We’re going to have a sales tax in the city to raise funds for his, uh, regular salary.”

       “How much is that?” hollered Jakub.

       “What do you mean by ‘regular’ salary?” questioned Morgan.

       “His regular salary will come from the tax, and he’ll be subsidized by fines from the hoodlums he jails,” replied Wallace.  “I need to go get ready to meet him as he is coming in on the next train.”

       I don’t think that Wallace put much thought into his plan.  Masterson would be a good man, but the town would pay a price.  He started to leave the meeting when Morgan grabbed him by the shoulder of his jacket.  “How much?”

       For some reason sweat broke out on Wallace’s forehead.  “$200.”

       That brought a laugh from Jakub which soon Morgan joined all the time shaking his head.  “You’re going to get all the merchants to go along with a sales tax?” he paused.  “Does that include the saloons, brothels, and dance halls?”

       “Well, uh, uh, I haven’t discussed that with them, yet.  Gentlemen I really must go,” and with that Wallace left us.

       I pulled on the end of my moustache then told the men.  “Reckon I’ll go down and meet the new marshal,” and followed Wallace out the door

       The train pulled in on time as I waited on the station platform.  When Bat stepped down out of the train, one could see why he was a force to be reckoned with.  He wore a gray derby, a style he began to wear a few years back.  Gone was the buffalo hunter and scout.  Before me now stood a man who used a gun when needed, force when required, and wouldn’t take nonsense from anyone.

       Upon seeing me, he gave a slight grin as he walked up to me.  “Miles, why did they call for me, if you’re here?”

       I reached out my hand in greeting, Bat didn’t hesitate but firmly shook it.  Some who called themselves gunmen and card-sharks usually refuse to shake a man’s hand for fear of having their fingers crushed, not Masterson.

       “Hotel’s a couple of blocks up the street.  Let’s talk…”

When the man hit the floor his gun went off, and that’s when it all went to chaos.  Standing next to me, a man drew and fired at Charlie.  Then there was a shot from the other side of the room.  I swung the barrel of the Greener at the man next to me catching him flush in the face breaking his nose and probably his cheek and he fell to the floor joining his friend.  I heard another shot, then glancing over to Charlie who I saw had his gun out and was pointing it toward the crowd.  I decided to get everyone’s attention so I cut loose with one barrel into the ceiling.  The twenty-gauge had the effect I wanted and the room quieted down.

       Three men were down.  I watched Charlie walk over to the man across the room that had shot at him.  Charlie kicked the gun out of his hand then nudged him with his boot.  A groan came from the man.  Looking at the man standing near, Charlie barked, “He have a name?”

       The man backed up a step.  Charlie turned his attention to him.  “I asked you a question,” then he looked at others nearby.  “What’s his name?”

       “Uh, Philby, I think,” the man replied then looked to others for confirmation which gathered a few nods.

       “Mister, since you know so much,” Charlie said to the man who answered, “get down and check him out.”

       In the meantime I looked at the men gathered near me and started pointing with the Greener.   “Carry these men down to the jail,” I ordered.

       One man not far away started to complain, “Ah, I’m not gonna…”  When I gave him a thump with the Greener on the head, not hard enough for him to join the two on the floor, but enough to get his attention.  

       “You were sayin’?”

       He grumbled something but reached down to pick up a leg of one of the unconscious men.  “If we aren’t there by the time you men get there, just dump them in front of the jail,” I stated, then went to join Charlie.  “You all right?” I asked.

       He checked himself, then nodded.  “Bullet missed.”

       “He’s hurt bad,” said the man checking out Philby.

       “Then you better get that bleeding stopped,” suggested Charlie.  “Use this,” he said, tossing him a towel he picked up from a nearby table.

       There became a slow murmuring and discussion among the crowd in the room.  Charlie went back to the bar grabbing a chair along the way.  I decided to walk along with him, but I continued on back and around the bar.  Charlie stood up on the chair and hollered, “This establishment is closed for the night.  Everybody out!”

       “Say, you can’t do…” came the voice of the bartender until I poked him on the ear with the Greener.

       “Can’t do what?” I inquired, then I suggested, “Why don’t you go have a seat at that table.”  I pointed with the shotgun at the table next to Charlie. 

       There was a lot of grumbling, but the crowd filed out, many of them grabbing bottles that were left laying on tables.  The men lying on the floor had been removed including the one that Charlie shot.  I went and stood by the bartender who was now seated at the table.

       “You the owner?” I asked in a normal tone now that the room was empty.

       “Yes, and you’re causing me to lose a lot of money.  You have no right to close my establishment!”

       I could tell that Charlie was in no mood for any discussion much less any griping.  He got in the man’s face.  “I have every right!  I’m Sheriff Gold, and if you don’t shut up I’ll close this place permanently.”

       Keeping the Greener between the bartender and myself I sat down in a chair next to him.  “Do you know those men?” 

       He shook his head, “Only by face, not by name.  They come in here frequently.”  

       “Any reason they’d pick out the Sheriff to kill?” I continued to question.

       After a slight shrug of the shoulders, he suggested, “I believe they just don’t care for lawmen.”

       “What about you?”

       Again came the shrug.  “I have nothing against them,” he said, pausing before continuing with disgust, “except when they close down my place of business.”

       Charlie grabbed him by the shirt, “Remember what I said about closing this place down permanently!”  He straightened up, looked over at me, then spoke to the bartender again.  “Close up, lock the doors.  You can open up tomorrow at noon unless I come by to tell you otherwise.  Miles, you ready?”

       I followed the Sheriff out the doors where before we entered the street we checked the area carefully.  Not seeing anyone we continued on to the jail and our occupants.  They were lumped there in front of the door and it took a few minutes for us to get them inside and into cells.  We put two in one cell, then put the wounded man in one by himself.  I checked his wound, noticing that the bleeding had stopped.  He needed a doctor as the bullet was in the leg and needed to come out.  Charlie said that he’d go get the vet, Davenport, who was acting as town doctor.

       When he left I went over to the desk and sat down behind it.  I started shaking my head as I looked up praying, “Lord, there is sure plenty of evil in this ol’ world.  Thank you for keepin’ Charlie and me safe tonight.”  Then I heaved a big sigh and waited.

The two men told us that they had a small claim on up the mountain.  “This fellow Shawley was looking for work, but he had been wounded.  He said it was when he took a fall and landed on a jagged rock,” the man named Billy Brice told us.  “Well, Sheriff, you know how it is, a man is hurt, a person just don’t go askin’ him questions, he helps them get back on their feet.  Shawley spent the winter with us; helped us with grub and worked on small things at the claim.”

       “Did yuh ever think he might have been shot?” I snapped.

       “The thought did occur to me, but I wasn’t goin’ to question him about it,” replied Brice.

       “Didn’t think he might be runnin’ from the law?” I kept hounding him.

       “Mister, ’tweren’t none of my business.  I’ve seen several folks in these here camps that have been shot and weren’t running from the law,” barked Brice right back.

       I sighed, he was right, but it still rankled me some.  “You didn’t consider that he might shoot you and take your claim?” inquired Charlie.  I could see he was a bit miffed too.

Then he turned to the other man, “What about you?  No concerns about the man?”

       He looked over at Brice and shook his head.  “I’m holdin’ to the goodness of mankind,” he stammered.  “No need askin’ a person ’bout his past.  Maybe he’s makin’ amends for his wayward ways.”

       “What’s your name, anyway?” I growled.

       “Picken, Tom Picken.”

       “Well, Samaritan Picken, I expect the Sheriff here will want you to stick around and sign a written statement, so don’t be traipsin’ off somewhere,” I said.

       “Drag him off to the undertakers, then meet us down at the marshal’s office.  We’ll be along as soon as we finish eating,” Charlie ordered them.  

       I stared at them, my eyes on fire.  “Don’t make us come lookin’ for you!”

       The one man, Picken, started to stutter with his answer.  “Whhyy, we didn’t dooo nothin’ wrong.”

       Charlie looked at him.  “The man shot a deputy sheriff and another man.  Therefore, you’ve been aiding a wanted man.  It could cost you five years in the state pen.”

       Both their eyes widened and Brice muttered something to Picken then nodded back at us.  “We’ll be there.”  Then each took an arm to drag Shaw from the eatery.  

       Flo was standing there, hands on her hips staring at the men as they drug Shaw out, then looked down at the floor.   She wasn’t happy when she saw the blood and the streak it left as the body was drug out.  She glared at us, then raised her arms to settle the murmuring.  “Folks, it’s all over, go back to your meals.”  She approached our table, “I’ll deal with you two in a few minutes,” she said in a huff then rushed off to the kitchen.  A few seconds later there was a Chinaman down to wash off the worst of the blood.

       She came back with a cup of coffee in her hand and promptly took a chair between Charlie and me.  She looked first at Charlie then over to me.  After taking a sip of coffee she spoke, “Boys, I know you were just doing your job, but you could have waited until he was outside.”

       “No, Ma’am, I couldn’t,” I responded quickly.  “Shaw was aware that we had recognized him and stood to shoot Charlie in the back.  I had to act when I did.”

       Her eyes were on mine for several seconds.  “Miles, you’ve always been a man quick to react,” she paused.  “But you’ve always been honest.”  Then she smiled looking around the eatery.  “At least I only lost one table in the ruckus.  Men up here are used to a little gunplay now and then and they know that some blood usually goes with the deal.”

       Flo finished her coffee, then stood up.  “Next time, be a little more considerate.”

       We watched her head off toward the counter in the front of the room and hop up on a stool by the cash register.

        “Let’s eat so we can hurry down to the jail.  I still want to go see Shy before the day’s out,” remarked Charlie.

       “Think we ought to walk the streets tonight, sorta let the town know that the law is back?” I questioned.

       Charlie was nodding his head.  “Might be a good idea.  Now hush up, I’m hungry.”

Not much else was said, so I dozed most of the way to Silverton only waking up at the water stations.  The sky was clear and blue as can be.  Soon the aspen leaves will be turning to gold.  Maybe I’ll bring Molly on a trip to see them, or even better yet we could ride up the canyon for a ways, camp out, and just enjoy being alone for a change.  I know she faces people every day, and I do as well on my job.  It’ll be a plan, I decided.

       Charlie went straight to the marshal’s office to see if anything was happening.  He really didn’t think so since Shy was recuperating, but he thought he better check the jail anyway.  We really didn’t know where Shy was.  In fact, I didn’t know if Silverton had another doctor since Webb had died.  This was a rough and tumble town and it needed a decent doctor, two really.  I told him we’d meet at Flo’s Cafe after I checked us in at the hotel.

       I stopped by the Wells Fargo office as was my habit.  I worked through that office a few years back and got to know the clerks fairly well.  Morgan Appleby was still there but Dick Fletcher had been transferred to Leadville and the newer clerk, Troy Linton up and quit.  He left for parts unknown.  Tom Shuman and John Collins were the new clerks and Morgan introduced them to me.  

       Morgan poured a cup of coffee for me without me even asking and smiled when he handed it to me.  We made some small talk, then he asked why I was up in Silverton.  I told him I traveled up with the Sheriff regarding the recent demise of Asa Stokes, the town marshal.  I was informed that the vet over at the stables worked on Shy.  Morgan thought that he was shot in the hip breaking the tip of the bone, and also below the ribcage.  As far as he knew Shy was still in bed.  He was in bed over at the late Dr. Webb’s house.  The vet, Terrel Davenport, secured the help of Mrs. Yardley and one of the girls from the a saloon on Blair Street.  She was not one of the working girls, just worked in the saloon for the atmosphere her lovely face provided.

       “From what I hear,” Morgan began to inform me, “it’s been pretty rowdy up there.  Several fights and shootings, and we have no one to corral them.  I hope Sheriff Gold stays around for a while.”

       I thanked him for the coffee, then shook hands with Shuman and Collins and departed for the hotel.  There was one room left so I booked it.  I didn’t know the plans.  Charlie might decide to stay at the jail.  I remember the many nights I slept down at the Wells Fargo office.  I didn’t know what time Charlie would make it down to Flo’s, the office was only a half a block up the street.

       When I stepped in the eatery was about half full.  Miners ate at various times during the day, and several residents of the town would make their appearance at Flo’s as the place was known to serve good food.  I waited for several seconds, looking the room over and letting my eyes adjust.  It probably wasn’t as necessary as it would be if I entered a saloon, but in my trade a person can’t be too careful.  

       A waitress saw me standing there and came over.  “May I help you, sir?” she inquired.

       I saw her take a lingering look at the shotgun I was holding.  It was a required companion almost everywhere I traveled and especially here in Silverton.  I pointed, “Is that table available?”  It was back in the corner.  She led the way and then went for a menu.  I told her to bring two as I was expecting company.  Taking off my hat, I looked carefully around the room to see if I recognized anyone from my past that I knew, or maybe even from a wanted poster I had seen.

       My eyes stopped briefly on one man, then continued to rove, but came back to the man.  Some place in the back of my mind I seemed to recall seeing that person.  As I sipped my coffee I would take a glance now and again at the person.  I didn’t want to appear that I was staring at him.  As I started on my second cup, I thought of what Morgan said about hoping that Charlie stayed around for a while.  After what he told me on the train that might not be so good, but then again, he couldn’t let the riff-raff take over the town.  That had happened all too often in Silverton.  I had seen the same thing in Tincup.       

       It seemed like Charlie was taking quite a spell to arrive.  I know we had eaten on the way up on the train, but that was now several hours ago.  The waitress came by to top my cup several times and I would shrug my shoulders and tell her that I’m still waiting.  Finally Charlie came in the door and when he did I saw the man I had noticed earlier stiffen.  Charlie didn’t notice and came right over to where I was sitting.

       He seemed a little downcast.  “Miles, I’m going to stay over.  I hate to do this to you, but would you try explaining to Marta the situation?”

       I was looking past him, not paying any attention but closely watching the man.

       Then chaos broke out, the man jumped to his feet, turned, drawing his pistol.  I dropped the Greener and fell to the table, made a loud clatter, and drew my pistol firing under the table.  Then I brought my gun up, I fired again my bullet knocking the man back against his table.  

       After the shots, the room became deathly quiet.  Charlie’s eyes were wide, but he stood up with a gun in hand and went to the table.  The two men with the man I shot had their hands in the air.  I thanked the Lord that the man’s first bullet was fired too quickly and hit the floor under Charlie’s chair.  My first one caught him in the lower leg, and the second one took away his life.

       I stayed at the table while Charlie talked to the other two men.  He emptied the pockets of the dead man and when he was satisfied he came back to me.  He threw a few coins of gold and a jack knife on the table.  “Miles,” he sighed, “I’m so glad you didn’t fire that Greener over my shoulder.  I think my heart would have given out.”

       “Who was he?” I asked.  “He was ready to shoot you in the back.”

       “Feller there said that he went by Shawley,” he replied.  Then turned back to look at the man as his two companions were carrying him out.  “Hold it!” he yelled.