Spring is on the way,” declared Molly as she sat down with Doc, Mateo, Charlie, and me. 
    Doc looked at her scratching at his chin.  “Hmpf, don’t you be putting away your winter clothes yet.  We’re still due for one maybe two good blasts this year.”
    Molly smiled, “Doc, how hard do you think it’ll be for me to get them out again?  Why, there’s not even a closet in that cabin.”
    “That’s right, Miles,” said Doc, pushing on my shoulder.  “Why don’t you get busy and,” he glanced at Molly, “build her a closet.”
    There was some more banter between us, Mateo only listening and smiling.  “Well, you boys enjoy your coffee, I need to go help Marta as more customers are starting to show up,” muttered Molly as she stood then moved off toward the kitchen.
    “Well, thanks to you and Mateo, I’m bound for Silverton within the hour,” informed Charlie with mock disgust.  
    “Stay warm, Charlie, it’ll be colder up there than here in Durango,” stated Doc.
    Charlie drained his cup.  “I need to see Marta before leaving.  You say Mike Dewey is the new marshal?”  I nodded.  “You know anything about him?”
    “Only met him once,” I hesitated, “from what Langston told me he sorts of lets the town go their own way.  Doesn’t do much in the enforcement of the law.”
    A deep sigh came from Charlie, “If I’m not back by the end of the day on Sunday, come looking for me.”  He started for the kitchen but stopped, “By chance you haven’t seen Lucas around?   Marta is some worried as she hasn’t seen him in a day or so,” he stopped again pointing a finger at Mateo, “You get to work!” he said mocking anger, then laughed.
    With that the group broke up, each of us going our separate ways knowing that we’d be seeing each other again.  We often take that for granted, I thought as I left the diner, for three of the four sitting at that table were in hazardous work that could end our lives in a moment.  It’s just that each of us have a trust in the Lord.
    I walked up to the cabin thinking about a closet.  The only place I could build a closet that didn’t take up space was outside the main door.  Molly was right, spring was on the way, but I also knew that Doc was right as well.  I’d be completely surprised if we didn’t have one more major snow.
    Mort Cooper was out chopping wood and waved as I went by.  It gave him a chance to put down his axe as he meandered toward me.  “Hey there, Miles.  I see your young wrangler has some friends helping him.  I guess he’s plumb forgot he’s supposed to be cutting wood for the missus.”
    That wasn’t like Lucas.  He had always been dependable in the past even thought he was a youngster.  I had to remind him once to keep the wood filled for the diner; after that it was never a problem.  
    “If I see Lucas, I’ll remind him,” I promised Mort.  
    He gave a little laugh.  “You’ll not be finding him today, I fear.  He and those other two were riding hard toward the south.”
    “Thanks Mort,” I said, now quite concerned.  I hurried on up to the cabin and out toward the stalls.  I glanced toward the pasture and didn’t see any horses.  Lucas should have had them out of the stalls.  Upon reaching them, I found that he did indeed have them out of the stalls.  All three horses were missing.  I let out a whistle.  If either Star or Hawk were close enough to hear it they’d come a-running.
    I looked at the tracks on the ground.  Now I was quite perturbed!  Lucas knew better than that.  I was a bit surprised that Hawk let someone else ride him.  One thing for sure, I knew their tracks.  I headed back to the diner to see if Marta knew the names of Lucas’ friends, then over to the livery to borrow a horse.
    “Do you think he’s in trouble?” asked Marta upon my questioning.  She had told me that she told Lucas not to be hanging around Fernando Garcia and his cousin Ramon.  They were a couple of years older than Lucas.  Ramon had an older brother who was known to be a trouble-maker.
    While I was there I told Molly that I wouldn’t be back tonight.  “Find Lucas,” she said, “Don’t let him get into trouble.”
    “I think he’s already there…”

You don’t look any worse for the wear, Langston,” I said when he finally came up to us.  “You know Mateo, he’s now deputy sheriff.”
    He grunted a laugh, “Yeah, and a how-do-you-do to you too, Forrest.”  He nodded at Mateo, “Coming up in the world.  What happened to the deputy marshal job?”
    Langston didn’t offer his hand to either of us, but we took it in stride.  His kind wasn’t a hand-shaking sort as he wanted to protect his fingers.
    “The new marshal and I didn’t get along,” came Mateo’s response causing Langston to raise an eyebrow.  
    “Who is this new marshal?” he inquired.  “Forrest, why don’t you buy us supper and I’ll listen to your story,” suggested Langston opening the door to the restaurant.
    I nodded my head at Mateo and went inside though we were a little early for the Parson.  “We were waiting for Parson Chapman, but it won’t hurt to start with some coffee.”
    We moseyed over to a table and after the waitress brought each of us coffee, Langston spoke, “The preacher-man will be along.  Though I have my thoughts about him as I saw him go into the Empty Diggings Saloon,” he paused.  “He’s not one of those who tear into saloons preaching from atop the bar?”
    I laughed, even Mateo smiled, “Nah, he’s tryin’ to get Frank Black, the owner straightened out.  He met him on a trip a few weeks back,” I informed him.
    “Saw you’re limping, how’s the leg, Deputy?” asked Langston with anger flashing through his eyes.
    “I’m making it, thank you for your concern.  I can at least walk without crutches now,” replied Mateo.  Mateo had been shot along with Conrad Keim who worked for Langston’s employer, Cecil Thompson.
    The waitress made her way back and gave each of us a refill.  I saw the anger on Langston’s face.  “Conrad is doin’ fine.  He’s up and ridin’, but not wranglin’ any broncs yet.  I take it you didn’t find Shaw?”
    Kyle Langston looked over the rim of his cup then after taking a deep swallow he answered.  “Forrest, he’s here, at least in the vicinity.  I thought that Doc Webb might tell me, but it was hard to find him sober,” he uttered, then finished his coffee.  “That’s right, you were here when the doctor killed himself.”  He wiped his unshaved face, “Of course you do know it wasn’t suicide.”
    I waved at the waitress to bring another refill, then continued the conversation regarding Doc Webb.  “I couldn’t stay around to investigate.  I thought that Marshal Stokes would do a thorough investigation.”
    Langston nodded and smiled at the waitress as she filled his cup.  “I thought you knew,” he muttered.
    “Knew what?”
    “Week or so after Webb’s suicide, some gunny shot the marshal from an alleyway.  Dewey is now marshal, and” he stopped to take a swallow, “he’s not worth much.  He’ll let the town run wild, or if he’ll run from trouble.  If he would happen to face it, well, let me say, he doesn’t have the gumption.”
    I glanced over at Mateo.  “Looks like either you or Charlie will be spending some time up here.
    Langston finished his cup.  I think he drinks more coffee than me. “Now, tell me about the new marshal in Durango,” he ordered.
    “Name’s Mike Queens, the…”
    “Queens!” exclaimed Langston.  “Why would they choose a hardcase like him?  He’s handy with a gun,” he said, then wiped his mouth.  
    “You know him?” asked Mateo.
    “Saw him shoot down a couple of miners in Leadville once.  Nice and legal it was; ha, those jaspers didn’t stand a chance.  Heard he had some trouble in Denver until Masterson ran him out of his place, sorta shamed him and he lit out of Denver sudden like.”
    That reminded me that as soon as I returned to Durango to check at the telegraph office.  In fact, I had a thought to send the same messages out of the office here just in case Offut was playing games with me.
    While I was thinking of those telegrams, Rev. Chapman came in the door.  “Gentlemen,” he said nodding at us, “I hope you don’t mind me bringing along a guest…”

The tracks were open to Silverton and I found out from Charlie Gold that his new deputy, Mateo Ramirez, was heading up to get a feel of the place.  He was waiting on the platform when I approached.
    “Mind some company?” I asked slapping him on the shoulder.
    “Not at all,” came his reply.  “Come on, let’s board.”
    We moved down the aisle to find a place to sit down.  From outside the voice of the conductor could be heard giving the last warning to board.  I could see him standing on the steps of the train ready to wave to the engineer to let her roll when a man come running to catch the train; it was Parson Chapman.
    He jumped on board and the train lurched to begin its journey up the canyon.  He was panting as he entered the passenger car where Mateo and I were sitting.  I had never seen him quite so unkempt.  He began to tuck in his shirt, straightened his tie and jacket, and took his hat off to dust it and then place it straight on his head.
    Walking to where we were sitting he smiled reaching out to shake Mateo’s hand first, then mine.  “Heard you fellows were headed up to Silverton and thought I’d join you,” he said as he sat down in an adjoining seat.  “Join me in a prayer:  Heavenly Father, keep Your hand upon us.  Make this trip profitable for Your servants.  Amen.”
    It was a treat to have the preacher pray as we began.  My mind flittered through the times I had ventured out with only my prayers.  Always nice to have company in one’s prayers.  I’m not sure if Mateo knew what was happening, but he bowed his head then made the sign of the cross after the parson said “Amen.”  
    Mateo began to chuckle.  “The Sheriff, he does not miss a trick.  Sends one compadre to guard my body, and then the padre to guard my soul.”
    I laughed with him.  “Not exactly true, Mateo.  I did hear that you were going up to Silverton and thought I’d ride with you.  I can introduce you to the town and some of the inhabitants.  Last time I was there Asa Stokes was the marshal,” I then pulled on my moustache, “but Silverton has been known to have marshals change every few months or so.”
    “And you Rev. Chapman?  What is your excuse?”
    “Molly told me that Miles was going to Silverton.  I like his company, plus I have some unfinished business there,” he replied then focused on Mateo, “and perhaps some new business along the way.”
    Much of the snow had melted in Durango, but it was not far up into the canyon that all one could see was snow.  There was ice on the edge of the river, but it was flowing.  The mountains glistened with snow when the sun fell upon them, but most of the time we were in the shadows of the cliffs.
    “Preacher, where’s your coat?” I inquired.  “It’s goin’ to be cold in Silverton.”
    His eyes widened, almost in a panic, he blurted, “I didn’t even think of one.”
    “You know the train isn’t returning until tomorrow?  Only one trip every other day through the winter unless the mines have a big shipment,” I informed him.  
    He sighed.  “Guess I’ll just have to walk fast,” he put his hand on his upper lip then began to push his lips together from the sides.  “I didn’t know I would have to spend the night.”
    “Don’t be a-frettin’, Parson.  Things will work out.  You can stay the night in my room, and I’ll treat you to supper and breakfast.”
    “Not so fast, my friend,” spoke up Mateo.  “I will get the breakfast, por favor.”
    It was a nice trip, seemingly short as we talked about family, friends, and Preacher Chapman couldn’t help expounding on the goodness of the Lord and gave Mateo a short salvation sermon to which Mateo replied, “I will think on this.”
    The temperature was at least twenty degrees cooler than it had been in Durango.  I sent Mateo off to get our rooms squared while I took the Parson to buy a coat.  He gave me a sheepish look, then told me that he didn’t have the money for a coat.
    “It’ll do me good to help out the man of faith.  The coat is my gift to you,” I stated then got to the point.  “You’re here to see Frank Black.”
    “Yes, I want to check on him.  I want to pray over his soul, but also encourage him to let his wife know that he is alive.  He doesn’t need to be in hiding, but needs to come forth with the truth,” responded Rev. Chapman.
    “I’ll let you go on your way.  Be at the hotel dining room at 6:00,” I said, then headed back to meet with Mateo at the hotel.
    When I got there he was standing outside.  “What’s wrong?” I asked.
    There was a flash of anger on his face.  “Clerk inside said that Mexicans cannot stay here.”
    Now there are certain things that jerk my jaws and that’s one of them.  I brushed past Mateo before he could stop me striding up to the desk clerk.  I slammed the Greener down on the counter to get his attention.  “What’s this I hear about you not giving a room to an officer of the law?”
    “I don’t know what you mean, Sir,” came the meek reply from a man about the thickness of a toothpick.
    “The deputy sheriff came in for our rooms and he was told he couldn’t stay here!  I want an answer!”
    He squirmed and stuttered, “Uh, uh, that’s our policy.”
    “Your policy just changed as of tonight!  Why you’ve got Polish, Welsh, Italians, and the lot working in these mines, along with plenty of Mexicans!” I barked.  
    “I just can’t go and change the policy,” he stammered.
    “You didn’t!” I exclaimed.  “Tell them Deputy U.S. Marshal, Miles Forrest changed the policy.  Now give us two rooms!  Put one of them under the name of Deputy Sheriff Mateo Ramirez.”
    We got the key then took our bags to our rooms.  After they were deposited, I told Mateo that I wanted to take him to the Wells Fargo office then we’d look for the marshal.  I had told him some of the times I had been in Silverton on the train up here and as I stepped out on the boardwalk from up the street came…

I can’t send these!” exclaimed Stanley Offut, “Why Marshal Queens would have a fit.”
    I stared at him with a puzzled look on my face.  “What’s gotten into you Stan?  You will send those telegrams as they are official U.S. Marshal business.  I’ll wait to make sure you do, and if I hear any discrepancies or if you don’t decide to send it I will have your job.”
    The telegrams were to Jens Blasco, U.S. Marshal–Colorado, Barnes McCoy, U.S. Marshal–Kansas, and Felix Wilcox, U.S. Marshal–New Mexico/Arizona Territory, inquiring about Mike Queens.  There was something about him I just didn’t like, but then I reckon he didn’t care much for me either.
    “I want an answer as soon as they come in, do you understand?” I said with my eyes boring into him.  I had known Stanley Offut for several years.  I just couldn’t figure out what had come over him lately.  
    Stepping out of the telegraph office I looked up and down the street.  Charlie Gold and I had talked about heading up to Telluride, but that idea was put to rest by another eight inches of snow.  I didn’t want to get stuck in Telluride for a week or even worse somewhere along the trail.  Maybe I was getting soft or too old.  I’d like to say it was because I had more sense than I used to have.
    Solly was standing in his shop, looking out the window smoking one of his big cigars.  I waved to him, and he motioned for me to come in.  His tobacco store was next to the telegraph office so I went on in to see what he wanted.
    “Miles, have a cigar on the house,” he said with a smile knowing that I didn’t smoke.  It was kind of a joke with him, and I know it wasn’t to malign my beliefs.
    “Not today, Solly, but I have been sorta hankerin’ for a chaw,” I smarted back at him bringing a hearty laugh.
    Still laughing, “Yeah, cut a piece from a twist I have here.  Chew it up real good, then go give Molly a kiss.  Ha, ha, I can just imagine.”
    “Imagine all yuh want, ain’t gonna happen.  What did yuh want to see me about?” I asked.
    He scratched his head, then took a puff and exhaling before answering.  “I don’t see Sheriff Gold very often, and I know it doesn’t pertain to you, but the new marshal doesn’t take his, let’s say, routine duties very seriously.  If it’s cold or snowing he won’t check the town at night.  I seldom see him walking the town.”
    I gave a slight shrug of my shoulders, “Solly, nothing I can do about it.  Unless complaints are brought to the council there is little to do about it,” I replied, then pulled at my moustache.  “I wonder why he wanted the job in the first place.”
    “Easy money, prestige, power,” he stated.  “Miles, you know there’s a dozen reasons.”
    “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll keep my eyes open,” I assured him just before stepping out into the cold again.
    Glancing down the street, I saw Doc Jones heading for the diner so I started for him.  He was already at the table when I came in the door.  A couple of out-of-work miners were sitting at a table and if I had to make a guess, Molly was feeding them for at least half price.
    I leaned the Greener and back against the wall, grabbed a cup from the shelf and filled it with coffee from the pot on the stove.  The heat being produced by that stove sure felt good.  Since it had stopped snowing the temperature had dropped rapidly.
    “Hello, Miles,” greeted Doc.  He twisted his head a couple of times and I thought I could hear bones popping.  “I’ll be glad when spring decides to hit the mountains.  These old bones just don’t cotton to the cold like they used to.”
    “Ha, I was just thinkin’ the same thing a few minutes ago,” I replied, taking my chair.
    I had just sat myself down when Molly came out with a couple pieces of pie, sitting a piece in front of us.  “Heard you guys come in, so I thought that you might like a piece.”
    “Sit down, Molly,” suggested Doc.
    She pulled out a chair.  “Only for a minute, Doc.  Charlie dropped by saying that Marta was sick and wouldn’t be in today, so I’ve been helping Emelda in the kitchen.  She’s making up a bunch of enchiladas for lunch.”
    Doc scratched the side of his head just above the ear.  “Say,” he started in, “have either of you seen Lucas lately?  My woodshed is getting low and he usually is on the spot with keeping it filled.”
    Molly and I looked at each other.  “Come to think of it, Doc.  Our woodpile is low.  If he doesn’t come in today or tomorrow I’ll have to get someone to chop some more,” replied Molly, looking at me.
    Several merchants and other businesses had hired Lucas to keep their woodpiles filled.  He had always been dependable.  I hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t working or feeding the horses.  I’d check on them after leaving here.  “Charlie say anything about Lucas being sick?”
    Molly shook her head then turned her attention to Doc.
    “No sickness that I’ve heard about,” he said in reply to her glance.  “Oh, that reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask.  What did Mateo say when you asked why he quit the deputy’s position?
    “He really didn’t have much to say.  Not really evasive, but not wantin’ to talk much about it.  He did mention that Charlie was goin’ to make him sheriff’s deputy.  That might be a better position for him, plus a little more money.”
    Doc held up his cup for a refill.  “I know that Edith has been meeting with the preacher’s wife and a couple of other ladies to especially pray for you men.  She said they even pray for Marshal Queens.”
    “Well, we all need it Doc, that’s for sure,” I remarked emptying the last swallow from my cup.  “I’m goin’ out to check on a few things.  I’ll find out about Lucas.”  I started to leave, but stopped to look at Molly.  “Save me a couple of those enchiladas.”
    I nodded at the two men sitting at the table.  One lifted a hand in acknowledgment, then I went out the door into the cold…