I looked at Charlie, but he didn’t continue, he got up and walked outside the door.  I didn’t want to push him for information, so figured I’d wait ’til the first water station and pull out something that Molly had packed for us to eat, then maybe prod him a little.

       He seemed to have quite a bit on his mind.  I realized there was the situation in Silverton, but now he mentioned Marta.  Could there be trouble because of Lucas?  If so, that was my fault.

       It was perhaps twenty minutes before he came back in the car.  I didn’t blame him for wanting to ride out in the fresh air and survey the river and the canyon that we were passing through.  He came and sat down and I asked, “Do you think Williams can handle the job?”

       He shrugged his shoulders, “Shy is a good man, but I have no idea how bad he is wounded.  You know how it is after being shot at; a person gets sorta gun-shy,” he shrugged again.  “I’ll just have to wait until I talk to him.  You know the game, I have no say in town matters.”

       “Yeah, but you can give advice and make suggestions,” I remarked.

       A sigh came from him, but no reply.

       “Mateo seems to be doin’ a good job.  His leg don’t seem to hold him back from doin’ his job,” I stated, then heard the blast of the whistle notifying that the first water station was coming up.  The train lurched as it began to slow to a stop.

       I reached in the burlap bag to pull out a couple of apricot hand pies that had been placed in there.  I continued to search and smiled as I saw two pork steak sandwiches which I imagine Molly had loaded with mustard.  I’d keep them until we reached the halfway point.

       “He’s doing great,” Charlie said in response to my question about Mateo.  “But,” he hesitated, “Luciana doesn’t like it when he’s gone so long.”  Then he took a bite of the pie and stared out the window.

       It had helped Charlie to have Mateo as his deputy.  They would each make rounds going in different directions.  If Mateo was in Silverton, Charlie would most likely be over near Telluride.  They would meet in Durango, compare notes, then head out again.  They had a good system and it was working.  Of course, there were always unusual situations like Mateo having to spend two weeks in Telluride, and now Charlie going up to Silverton.  A lawman can’t always depend upon a strict schedule, the outlaws and scum out there won’t allow it.

       Charlie finished his pie and was wiping the crumbs off his moustache.  I plopped the last piece of mine in my mouth and mumbled, “I’m goin’ to find us some coffee.”  I got up and ambled up toward the more refined cars.  I glanced where the stove used to be; where they used to keep a pot of coffee going.  If they wouldn’t allow me a couple of cups from the fancy cars I’d go back to the caboose.  The brakemen would surely share.

       They were generous up front and gave me two cups filled with hot coffee and I didn’t have to pay.  I took a big gulp and it burned all the way down to my stomach, then with the rocking of the train, I spilt half of Charlie’s on my hand.  There were plenty of sneers and hard looks and pleading eyes given to me as I walked through the car holding two cups of coffee.  Folks must have thought we were someone special.

       I handed him the cup, now only half full and received a questioning look until he saw that my hand was somewhat red and wet with coffee, then he laughed.  “At least yuh saved me two swallows,” he snorted, then drank it,  swirling the last in his mouth to clean the crumbs out.

       After finishing his coffee he held the cup in both hands, looking at the dregs, “Marta wants me to quit.”

       “Why?” I asked, knowing what was probably the reason.

       He shrugged with one shoulder, “Too dangerous and that I was gone too much.”

       “Lucas?”

       Shrugging again, “Maybe some, he’s just added to her list of complaints.”

       “If you quit, what’ll you do?” I inquired.  

       “Vexler is always needing help down at the livery.  Maybe he could teach me to blacksmith.  Or I could work for Bert Crenshaw,” he said looking up at me.  “I always wanted to be a good carpenter.”

       Putting my cup on the floor, I then pulled at my moustache pondering what Charlie had told me.  “Charlie, you’re a lawman, and a good one,” I paused for several seconds.  “Durango, the west, we need good men to uphold justice.  Men to counter the lawless and low-lifes out there.”

       Then he pulled the final straw.  “Marta’s also going to have a baby.”

       My eyes widened, then I started nodding my head in understanding.  “What are you goin’ to do?”

       The shrug came again.  If it had been Lucas doing that I would have given him a little thump.  He looked over at me with a wry smile, “First, I’m going to take care of the situation in Silverton.

Charlie went over to talk with Marta so I, being a curious fellow, picked up the telegram.  “Phillips dead — STOP — Shy wounded.  Come quickly.”  It was without a signature which I didn’t like.  Phillips was a good man.  I decided right then that I was going with the Sheriff.

       I read the telegram once more then happened to see out the window Mateo riding down the street.  He had been in Telluride investigating some claim jumpers for a couple of weeks now.  I rushed out before he could get out of hearing as I knew he always went to see Luciana and the boys before he did anything else when he arrived in town.  After I hollered I waved to get his attention.  He reined his horse over to where I was standing.

       “Get down and come in.  Charlie will need to talk with you,” I stated, waiting for him to dismount.

       There was a puzzled look on his face as he approached me still with a slight limp.  “I need to let Charlie tell you about it,” I said, opening the door for us to enter.

       Charlie, Marta, and Molly were all over by the table.  Charlie had just picked up his hat when I blurted out, “Look who just arrived.”

       A smile appeared on Charlie’s face as we approached the table.  Quickly Molly went to the counter to get a cup so Mateo could have some coffee.  I went to where I normally sat picking my hat from the hook on the counter and grabbing the Greener.  Molly made eye contact with me then turned to head for the kitchen.

       “I’m sure glad you’re back,” declared Charlie.  “Phillips was just killed earlier today up in Silverton, the deputy wounded so I’ve got to hot-foot it up there.”

       Mateo graciously accepted the coffee and after taking a sip at the hot brew.  He licked his lips briefly then asked, “You want me to go up there?”

       Charlie shook his head.  “No, you’ve been out of town for quite a spell.  If I sent you up to Silverton now I’d never hear the end of it from your Missus.  You go see her and then take care of the town.  Miles will…”

       “No, Miles won’t,” I stated.  “I’m goin’ with you Charlie.  I knew both those men and you might need some help.”

       He didn’t argue.  I’m glad Mateo was back or Charlie would have put up a fuss at me going and rightly so.  Molly was back with a sack full of food.  I looked down at Lucas who had been sitting there listening.  I was impressed, he showed some maturity not to butt in on the conversation.

       “Lucas, here, can fill you in on what’s been happenin’ since you’ve been out of town,” I informed him, then thought of something.  “Lucas, run up to the depot and find out when the next train leaves.  If one’s on the track hold it up until Charlie and I get there.

       He promptly took off and I saw the look of surprise on Mateo’s face.  “The kid, he’s wearing a badge,” he queried.  “I guess I did miss out on a few things.”  He looked at the door, then remembered the cup in his hand.  After taking a long guzzle and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he placed the cup on the table.  “He’s not taking my job, is he?”

       That brought a chuckle from both of us.  “I’ll just let Lucas tell you.  He’ll enjoy it.”

       I reached to clasp onto Molly, drawing her to me for an embrace.  “I need to go get my jacket.  If Lucas comes back, tell him where I’m at.  After leaving the house I’ll head on toward the station.”

       “Be careful, Miles,” she softly said.

       “Always.”  Which brought a snorting sound from my dear wife.

       Thirty minutes later I met Charlie; we were fortunate that we wouldn’t have to wait long as the train was pulling out in another thirty minutes.  He seemed sort of down, and me being the kind of person I am asked him straight out what was wrong.

       “I just can’t seem to keep it all together.  There are too many camps, too many crimes, I can’t get to them all.  Mateo is a great help, but even with his help…” he sighed and I waited.  “I was hoping to finally have a good marshal up in Silverton.”

       It was too big an area for a sheriff and one deputy.  There were probably close to a hundred mining camps, maybe more in the region, plust the fact that Durango currently didn’t have a marshal.  The town fathers squabbled too much to agree.   I watched him as we boarded and sat down.  There was room for us to each have a seat to ourselves which was nice.  I’d wait awhile to open the lunch that Molly packed.

       Charlie didn’t say anything, he was lost in thought.  I didn’t think it my place to ask; I knew he’d tell me when the right time came.  I leaned back to shut my eyes for a few minutes as the train chugged up the mountain.  It was normally about a four hour trip, that is, without any problems.

       I had just gotten comfortable and was dozing off when Charlie remarked, “Marta…”

       “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.