As I walked out of Foster’s I heard shouting, “Where’s my horse!” came the angry voice.  “If’n someone’s playin’ a trick I’m not carin’ much for it!”  He looked at his two compadres.
    He went out into the street and began looking up and down.  Throwing his hands on his hips the frustration was apparent.  Looking back at his friends, “Where’s the marshal’s office?”
    “There ain’t no marshal, Lefty, he was killed a few days back,” stated one of his friends as he walked back to the boardwalk.
    “Then the sheriff.  I need my horse!” he exclaimed.
    I walked up to him and started to speak, when he spotted my badge.  “You the sheriff?  I want my horse, what are you doin’ about it?”
    “Now just simmer yurself,” I said.  “I’m not the sheriff, he’s up to Silverton currently.”
    The three of them looked at me, but the one called Lefty was surely puzzled.  “You’re wearin’ a badge, can’t you do something?  I’ve got to get back to the ranch, and that horse wasn’t rightly mine.”
    The other two stood there nodding in agreement.  I turned my attention to them.  “You fellas got a name?”
    One of them backed up a step when asked, but his partner spoke right up.  “Jed Fountain.”
    “And you?”
    “Uhh,” he slurred something.
    “Listen friend, all I asked for is your name.  You runnin’?”
    He lifted his chin, and blurted, “No sir, I, well, I did some time, and I know what some of you lawmen think of former inmates.”
    I sighed, “Your name.”
    “Link Doyle.”
    Staring at him, I looked hard, “Listen Mister, I don’t care much for your past if you’ve paid your dues, I’m interested in the way your walkin’ now, so get that chip off your shoulder.”
    “What I want to know is, what are you goin’ to do about my horse?” asked Lefty impatiently.
    I could understand his frustration and anger.  A man wasn’t much good around here without a horse, and now he was probably going to be in trouble with his boss.  He may get fired, but if he’s a good hand, more then likely will take it out of his pay.
    “Lefty, you got a last name?” I questioned.
    “Monroe,” he blurted quickly the frustration showing.
    “Well, Lefty, I’m a Deputy U.S. Marshal, and right now it’s out of my jurisdiction.  So, I’m goin’ to wait for the sheriff to get back and hand it over to him.”
    I watched him clench his fist.  “Why, by that time he could be down in New Mexico, or, or anywhere.”
    “Mister Lowell, ain’t gonna like you losin’ one of his horses,” spoke out Fountain.
    Lefty uttered an oath, then slapped his hat against his leg.  I could see he was a mite concerned over the situation, that was a good sign.
    “Let me tell you one thing, Lefty, that kind of prayer won’t get you much.  You ought to be askin’ the good Lord what to do next instead of cussin’, plus there’s women and youngsters present,” I informed him.  
    His eyes widened in surprise that I had chided him that way.  It almost brought a smile to him.
    I knew Bill Lowell, he was a good man.  He had a nice spread on Yellowjacket Creek on toward Pagosa.  He did most of his trade in Pagosa Springs, but lately he had been coming to Durango.  Bill took care of his men, and I didn’t think Lefty would get fired, but I also knew that he wouldn’t take kindly to his horse being stolen.
    The three men just stood there, then Lefty caught eye of Lucas.  Anger rose in him again, “Say, Kid, did you see who took my horse?”
    He took a step toward Lucas and I cut him off.  “Leave him alone.  He has already told me what he knows.”  
    I knew Lefty was just frustrated and he didn’t know what to do.  I placed my hand on his shoulder, “Let’s go see Vexler.  I’m sure he’ll loan you a horse.  I’ll vouch for you to him and to Mr. Lowell.”
    Looking at me with wide eyes again, “You don’t know me.  I might just ride out of here.”
    I looked at him and smiled.  “I don’t think you will, plus if you do I’ll have to come after you.”
    He looked confused.  “You’d come after me, but you won’t go after who stole my horse?”
    “Didn’t say that, I said I was goin’ to wait until the sheriff comes back,” I responded then looked at Molly then down at Lucas.  My attention went to Fountain and Doyle.  “Why don’t you guys go down to the diner.  Molly, here, will get you a piece of pie, on me.”  I slapped Lucas on the shoulder.  “Your work is over for the day.  Molly be sure Lucas gets a piece as well.”
    I started to walk on, but Lefty lingered, his hat being rolled in his hands.  “Ma’am,” he pleaded, “I sorta would like a piece as well…”

Lucas!” Marta yelled half-way across the diner, then rushed to grab him by the shoulders.  “Have you been fighting?”  She jerked him a couple of times.
    “No…”
    She shook him again, “Don’t you lie to me.  I can see your face.”
    I reached to take one of Marta’s arms from the boy and received an angry look from her.  “Marta,” I whispered gently.  “Let him explain.”
    Pushing him, she answered sharply, “Explain then!”  Then she looked at both Molly and me, You coddle him too much, but go ahead and listen.”
    “What happened?” I asked Lucas.
    He looked at his sister, frightened, then straightened up and answered me.  “Fernando, he stole a horse.  I tried to stop him.  I told him it was no good to be running away.  He laughed, and hit me knocking me to the ground, telling me that he was through with shoveling manure.  Then he kicked me, laughing.”
    Glancing at Marta, I could see she had softened some.
    “Senior Marshal, I tried to pull him from the saddle, but he kicked me in the face.  I’m sorry, I couldn’t help more,” he said with tears in his eyes, but he was not crying, it was from the shame he felt that he had let me down.
    I looked him over some, glimpsed a bit at his eye.  “How you feeling, son?”
    “Like I’ve been kicked,” he responded which brought laughter from the Judge and a good chuckle from me.  Molly hid her face so she wouldn’t laugh for she saw out of the corner of her eye the expression on Marta’s face.
    “Isn’t it bad enough that my husband goes out daily into danger and now you, you, get into trouble, and now this,” she snapped, but at least she was no longer yelling.
    “Whose horse did he take?” I asked, not wanting to ask if it was one of mine.  He already had done that once, that’s the reason he was mucking the streets.
    He shook his head, “I don’t know.  We were working down toward Foster’s store when it all happened.  He jumped on a sorrel, that’s all I can tell you.”
    Foster’s Mercantile was a couple doors away from the Broken Drum Saloon.  It probably belonged to one of the cowboys in the saloon.  
    I looked at the Judge.  “Go ahead, check it out.  I’ll eat my pie,” then he grinned, “might even eat yours too if you take too long.”
    Before we could leave the diner, Darnelle rushed in.  “Miles,” then she looked at the table, “Molly, you too.  You must come to the store.”  She was excited, but didn’t wait for an answer but rushed back out.
    Looking over at Molly, she simply said, “What now?”  Then over to Marta, “Can you handle the diner for a few minutes?”
    Marta had settled down by now.  She was simply fearful over her family.  I can understand how she burst out in anger for she had been holding in her fear for Charlie.  With Lucas being hurt, well, it all came flooding out.
    Since the establishments were so close together I decided on going to see what was happening with Darnelle.  She wouldn’t have left the store unattended so Mrs. Blackstone must be there.  But she wanted Molly along so I didn’t reckon it was anything dangerous, but my interest was peaked a mite.
    Lucas stayed outside to see if anyone came out looking for his horse, while Molly and I went on inside.  I started looking around.  I saw Mrs. Blackstone at the register, smiling.  That was good.
    “Miles!  Back here!” came the voice of Darnelle in the back of the store.  
    Molly and I started back.  He was bent over, working on some ledgers, with Darnelle beaming beside him.  “Daddy, you have visitors.”
    “Tell them I’m busy,” he replied gruffly.
    “Wilson!” I said in surprise.
    “Is that you Forrest, can’t you see I’m busy?” came the gruff voice again, then he began to laugh.  From the storeroom walked his wife Elizabeth with a radiant smile on her face.
    Molly rushed to her to hug her then turned her attention to Wilson.  “Thank the good Lord!  It’s so good to see you out!” she exclaimed then proceeded to give him a hug.
    “Doc said if I felt like it to get out.  So here I am,” he said then reached his hand toward me.  “I didn’t know fresh air could be so exhilarating, nor so exhausting.  I can’t walk, don’t know if I’ll ever be able to, and when I speak, sometimes it’s slurred, but here I am.”
    It was then I noticed that he was in a wheelchair.  Elizabeth had pushed him from his house.  “You let me know when you’re ready to go home, and I’ll help.”  It would not be as easy a push going home as it was mostly uphill.
    I was just getting ready to ask some questions of Wilson when Lucas burst through the door of the mercantile.  He’s had a habit of doing so lately.  “Senor, Marshal, a man outside hees very angry.  Hees horse is missing.”  

I had just come from sending telegrams to Marshal Blasco and Dave Cook about the demise of Mike Queens.  I mentioned that a full report would be sent later.  Stanley Offut was awful skittish, I think the ordeal wore on his nerves.  He wasn’t afraid of me, but our relationship wasn’t what it was before.  I did my best to soothe him.
    Solly Vendor was standing outside his store smoking one of his own stogies when I walked by.  Solly was always friendly to me, not that I’d say we had regular fellowship, but there was no animosity.  He blew out a big puff of smoke.  “What’s wrong with Stanley?” he asked good naturedly.  “He acts like a rat in a room of cats.  He’s tickier than that machine he runs.”
    All I could do was give him a weak smile.  “I’ll just say that he’s gone through quite an ordeal.”
    He nodded his head understanding that I couldn’t give out any more information until the Judge had the case clear, but he prodded just a mite.  “I heard it had something to do with the killing of Queens,” he paused taking a deep puff.  “When will they be appointing a new marshal?”
    “Solly, of that I have no idea.  They might have to wait until after the inquest.”
    Now he exhaled, then sighed, “Why don’t they give the job back to you?  You have your ways, but you’re a fair man.  Folks feel safe around you,” he paused to look up the street.  “Maybe I’ll go have a talk with Newsome,” he paused to take another puff.  “By the way, how is Foster?”
    That was Solly, he was truly interested in the town and the welfare of its citizens.  Not a regular church-goer, mind you, but a solid citizen.
    He gave me pause for thought, I should make it a weekly habit to visit Wilson.  He and I did not always see eye-to-eye, but we were friends.  Darnelle was keeping the store open and it was doing right well with the help of Mrs. Blackstone.  I waved at Solly and continued on up the street toward the jail.  That was another thing, what do to with Mrs. Blackstone’s request.  Right now I had laid it in the preacher’s lap.  That’s probably where it should remain for the time being at least.
    I noticed Lucas cleaning up along main street, but didn’t see Fernando.  Perhaps he was working in another area.  I stopped to look around for a few moments then continued to trod to the office.  There was really nothing I needed there but I promised Charlie that I would make my presence known through the town in his absence.  He went up to Silverton to check on Mateo.
    Silverton, that was a rough town.  It began to boom in 1874 and was still going strong.  With the booming mining industry, the evil and vice was booming as well.  With the growth of the mines, many miners brought their families with them.  Most worked in the larger mines such as the Silver Lake, the Iowa, the Royal Tiger, and the Sunnyside, along with some smaller mines.  Oh, there were still the few sourdougher, but their days were coming to an end.  Every time I went there, more buildings were going up, but most of the riff-raff built close to Blair Street or close by.  In that area of town they boasted of nearly forty saloons or gambling dens and dance halls that never closed.  However, there were other businesses being built.  They had two banks along with Wells Fargo, several hotels, and a church.  A racetrack was proposed with a jockey club, a library was built.  Yep, Silverton was booming–I wondered for how long.
    I walked through the town, stopped in to say hello to Mateo’s wife, Luciana and his two sons.  Then started back toward the diner where Judge Klaser was to have supper with Molly and me.  I had often invited the Judge since he was a widower, but he was afraid that people would perceive a conflict of friendship with the marshal and the judging of the law behind the bench.
    Walking in, I nodded at Marta, then went over to my usual table.  Molly was busy helping Marta with the customers.  I needed to talk with her about getting some help during the rush hours.  When it was extremely busy, Edith, Doc’s wife would give a hand, but it seemed that they could afford a regular person.  Emelda, along with Molly, did most of the cooking; it was time for my wife to settle just a little.
    I was sipping my coffee and was pondering how the good Lord had blessed me when the Judge entered.  He nodded at several on his way to my table.  When he was seated I poured him a cup of coffee and Molly came to get his order.  The Judge requested a platter of Emelda’s enchiladas, and he asked if Molly had any baking soda.  He said he wanted it handy if he was going to get heartburn.
    We were chatting, the Judge greatly enjoying his enchiladas while Molly and I had elk stew.  She had already told me that she was saving some pie for us.  I was just lifting my spoon to my mouth when Lucas walked in, his shoulders bent and head drooped low.
    He looked up at me, with a blackened eye and cut lip.  “Senor Marshal, I ….”

Stepping into in the door of the courtroom I faced the black-eyed bore of a .38 caliber Smith and Wesson.  I knew that Queens carried a fancy gun of .38 caliber but it’s different viewing it when the action end is pointing at you.  Queens was sitting behind the Judge’s bench.  My attention then went to the prosecutor’s desk where Stanley Offut was on top of it on his hands and knees; Judge Klaser was standing on top of him with a rope around his neck.
    This was not a good situation.  Offut was already wobbling, and the Judge was a rather well-rounded man; I didn’t know how much longer before Offut collapsed.
    “Queens, it doesn’t have to be this way,” I pleaded.  
    A laugh came from him; a laugh I had heard many times before.  It was the laughter from Hades itself, the mocking laugh of the Pale Rider.  “My party, my way, and I welcome you friend, Miles.”
    “First of all, I ain’t your friend!  Second, you won’t get out of this building alive!” I exclaimed moving so that Offut and the Judge were not blocking my view of Queens.
    He was waving his gun around, when he said, “I get two of you this way,” he paused, then continued, “Offut just got in the way, plus I heard he was backing you.”  His face turned angry, “I’m not giving up this badge.  This is going to be my town.  As soon as I get rid of you and the Judge, I’ll take care of that Sheriff.”
    My mind was whirling, and I was silently praying that the Lord would show me a way.  I tried not to show my nervousness, but it was hard not to.  I wanted to try for my gun and it seemed that Queens was taunting me into trying.
    In a shaky voice Offut cried out, “Miles, do something!  I can’t hold out much longer.”
    Not a sound had come from the Judge.  The rope was tight around his neck and was up around the rafter and tied to the door of the Judge’s chamber.  If I didn’t do something quick he might strangle before Offut collapsed and he was hung.  I moved another step to my right and turned my body slightly.
    Queens was smiling and humming some tune I didn’t recognize.  “Tell me the name of that song and we’ll sing it at your burial,” I remarked.
    His face went stone sober, no expression whatsoever.  He stood then sneered.  “All right, Mr. High-and-Mighty, I’ll give you a chance!”
    He holstered his gun, and I didn’t hesitate.  I drew my gun and shot.  I knew that he had pulled his and that I was falling.
    My eyes opened and I was laying on the other desk in the courtroom.  Doc Jones was bandaging up my head.  I tried to move my hand and felt that it was gripped tight; I looked to see who was holding it and found Molly standing there a grim look on her face that now turned to a smile.
    I tried to shake my head but Doc grabbed me by the chin, “Stay still!” he ordered.  I planned on doing just that for even that little movement make my head hurt.
    “The Judge?” I asked feebly.
    A voice answered from not too far away.  “I’m fine, so is Stanley.”
    “Whew, that was close,” came the words from Charlie Gold.  “As soon as I heard the shots, I came running and broke through the window,” he paused.  “I saw Queens lying on the floor, blood pouring from him.  The shot must have scared Stanley for he collapsed, and I saw the Judge hanging.  When I saw the rope tied to the door, I opened it and it gave enough slack for the Judge to fall on Stanley.  Miles, it was close.”
    “Help me sit him up,” commanded Doc Jones.  “Faint?  Dizzy?” he prodded.  “Well, say something!”
    “Doc, give me a chance,” I said then looked toward where Queens had been standing.  Parker was already there with some men to remove Queens’ body.  “What happened to him?”
    Paul Parker, the undertaker, came by me and placed his hand on my shoulder.  “Your bullet caught him right in the jugular notch above the breastbone.  He didn’t last long.”
    “Hmpf, long enough to almost kill you,” muttered Doc.  “His bullet plowed a nice groove alongside your head.  A fraction of an inch and your brains would have been splattered.  All I can say is that you won’t be wearing a hat for a spell.”
    “Doc,” I replied, “a fraction of an inch the other way and he would have missed altogether.”
    “Hmpf…”