Charlie, Marta, and Molly were sitting with me, and we had a new guest, Darnelle.  She seldom ventured into the diner, usually eating at home with her aunt and uncle, Elizabeth and Wilson Foster.  Since his stroke, she has been working through lunch at the store.
    “Darnelle, we don’t see you down here very often; it’s a pleasure,” said Molly.  “Hope you can stomach that coffee that Miles makes.  I’ll get you some cream if you need it.”
    I looked at her, then asked, “Did you come for a reason?”
    She sighed, “Not really, I just needed to get away from the store.  Uncle kept the books, orders and inventory, and I didn’t realize how much work there was in doing that.  So thankful for Mrs. Blackstone, she is a blessing,” replied Darnelle.
    Sometimes I don’t know when I’m good off, and when to keep my mouth shut.  “Darnelle, how old are you?” and I should have stopped for I received the look from Molly, but I didn’t heed it and continued, “Twenty?  I just don’t see why someone as pretty as you ain’t married.”  For that I received an elbow in my ribs.
    Looking down at her coffee then over to me, then at Molly, the responded, “The man I want is taken.”
    When she said that, Charlie sputtered in his coffee spilling some of it in his lap.  I glanced at Molly who just winked at Darnelle.  I was lost, what was going on?  “Will someone tell me the great secret?”
    “Oh, Miles, just be quiet.  You’ve already said enough,” commanded Molly giggling.
    I looked at all four of them.  They all were trying to keep from laughing.
    “Well, Darnelle,” chirped Molly, “you are welcome anytime.”
    Placing my cup on the table, I looked up to see a crew of men come through the door.  “Well, I’ll be,” muttered Charlie.
    It was Clyde Hoffner, Reese Donovan, Thompson’s cook, a rider I didn’t recognize, and Conrad Keim.  It was the first time I’d seen him since Shaw shot him.
    “Why the scowl, Miles?” inquired Molly upon seeing it form on my forehead.
    Rubbing my chin a few times.  “I’m just reminded that I haven’t apprehended Shaw.  He’s still loose when he should be in jail.  When the weather turns, that’s one of my first jobs–find Shaw,” then I looked over to Charlie, “and the ones who have the bounty on Charlie’s head.”
    Marta had already gotten up to take the men’s order.  I took one more final swallow, then stood.  Walking over to the table I nodded at the men.  “Glad to see you’re up and around,” I sincerely stated, then remembered, “Langston find him?”
    “Thanks, Marshal, I’m doing all right.  Haven’t heard from Langston since he left.  He’s either following Shaw, or Shaw maybe killed him,” responded Keim.
    After that I nodded to Hoffner who was preacher Chapman’s cousin, then inquired of Donovan.  “Reese, what in the world are you doin’ in town?  I haven’t seen you, oh, in at least a year,” then nodded at the newcomer.
    “Boss doesn’t trust any of the rowdies his has working for him to get supplies for the kitchen.  Oh, they’re all right with meat, but they don’t know nutmeg from chili powder, plus,” he said, a big smile forming on his face, “it’s been a year since I had a piece of Miss Molly’s pie.”
    I gave a little grunt, then spoke to Donovan, but I looked at the new man.  “New rider?”
    “Oh sorry, Marshal, this here is Nevada Bill.  Claim’s he’s a real buckaroo,” laughed Donovan.  “Bill, this here is a bull of the woods that you want to be wary of.  Stay on his good side.”
    “Ha,” came a laugh behind me.  I hadn’t noticed Molly coming up behind me.  “More like a cuddly bear cub,” she continued bringing a laugh from Donovan and a smile from Hoffner.  Nevada Bill just stared at her–a stare that I didn’t like.
    I remembered my manners, “Bill, this is my wife, Molly Forrest.”  She reached out her hand to shake his, but he just continued to stare.
    Since he didn’t take it, for which I was glad, I did and giving a final nod to the men, I walked her back to the table.  After getting Molly seated, I poured coffee for us.  “That was rude,” she remarked.  I looked at her, then over at the table with the men.  I’m glad Nevada Bill’s back was to me.
    “Who’s the man facing me?” asked Darnelle.
    “Oh, that’s the parson’s cousin.  He helped the preacher move to Durango, then took a job riding for Thompson,” I remarked.  “Don’t know him well, but he seems nice enough guy.  If’n he’s anything like the Parson, he’d be a good man.”
    Darnelle smiled, then remarked to Molly, “Thank you…I enjoyed myself, but I must get back to Mrs. Blackstone.”  Charlie was there and helped her with her chair.  She put on her coat then walked on past the men and out the door.
    There was some kind of comment made by Nevada Bill, I couldn’t hear it, but Hoffner was angered by it.  He said something back to Bill who made a move with his arm.  Quick-like Keim grabbed his arm…

Well, Marshal Forrest,” came the cry from across the store.  “I was wondering if you would ever come in here again.”  Darnelle started for me, and after giving me a hug, she continued.  “I hear that you’re going to be city marshal on a permanent basis.”
    I laughed a little, “So that’s what you hear?  What else do you hear?”
    She gave a wry smile before answering, “I know that Stanley Offut wants you, and so does Mr. Parker,” then with a giggle she added, “and we all know that Mr. Newsome, bless his soul, will vote with the majority.”
    “I stopped by to see how Wilson was doin’.  What does he think about all this, or has he been able to say anything?”
    The smile fell from her face.  “Uncle is doing some better.  He can shuffle around the room if he has something to hold onto.  He did manage to mumble out some sounds, ‘Not Que’ and that was all I could make of it.”
    I pulled on the end of my moustache.  I always liked Wilson Foster.  Sure he would get on my nerves now and again, but overall he was a reputable man.  “Give him my best,” I said before leaving, “I mean that.”
    The small smile came back, “I know you do.  Where are you headed?”
    Giving a short grunt I said, “Time for the showdown.  Meeting with Judge Klaus, the council, and Queens.  I pray that it goes smoothly.”
    As I came to the entrance I heard her say behind me, “Don’t be such a stranger…please.”
    Without turning I gave a little wave then went on out to the boardwalk.  I stood for a moment looking up and down the street.  It was then I noticed Skinny Green leaning against a post.  “Skinny!  What are you doggin’ me for?”
    He seems startled, then straightened up, at least as much as I’ve ever seen Skinny straighten.  “I’m a detective,” he boasted.
    I took a couple of steps toward him, causing him to step down off the boardwalk into the muddy street.  “Detective, huh?  Tell me about it.”
    Scratching the top of his head, then wiping his hand down his face he answered.  “Man said he’d give me five dollars if I’d follow you.”
    “That so, what man?” I inquired.  “Why did he want you to follow me?”
    With a shrug of his shoulders, he simply replied, “Don’t know.  Just told me to follow you.”
    “Well, this is as far as you follow me,” I declared.  “I have a meeting in the courthouse with the Judge, that is, unless you want to see the Judge.”
    “No, no, that’s fine,” he stated, but a frown came on his face.  “I hope the man pays me.”
    “Skinny, when were you supposed to meet this man?”
    He shrugged again, “Don’t know, he said he’d find me.”
    “Get on then,” I barked, the stepped off the boardwalk to head to the courthouse.
    When I got there Stan Offut was the only one there with Judge Klaser.  After I greeted them, Offut handed me a telegram.  It was from Marshal Blasco in Denver.  “Deputy will arrive for prisoner.”  He was always short with his telegrams.  He didn’t say when, and I had to assume it was Sam Smith he was referring to.
    Newsome came in next with Mike Queens by his side.  I thought that a mite strange.  A few minutes later Paul Parker arrived.  “Gentlemen, you may all be seated,” stated the Judge.  “Let’s get this meeting started as I have to work on tomorrow’s docket.  Mister Newsome, since you’re the new head of the council go ahead.”
    “Uh, well, there’s been some discussion with Mr. Queens since I last talked with Marshal Forrest.  He’s, uh, well, agreed to a compromise.  Mateo Ramirez can stay on as deputy.”
    That caught my attention as well as the Judges.  “So then, what is your vote, Mr. Newsome?”
    He was fidgety, but blurted out, “Mike Queens!”
    “Newsome!  Perhaps you don’t remember what happened with McCall as marshal,” I challenged.  I really didn’t care if I was marshal or not, but I didn’t want to see the citizens of the town harassed by a hardcase wearing a badge.
    “What are you insinuating?” snarled Queens.
    I stared at him.  “Queens, I know your kind!”
    “See what I mean?” blurted out Newsome.  “This is what we get from Marshal Forrest.  He’s brutal…a, a beast!”
    I looked at the other two councilmen.  I knew both men well, but they were new to the council, and Offut was only filling out the term of Foster.
    “Since, I’m voting for Mr. Foster, I assume he would go along with Newsome,” piped up Offut.
    My attention went to Queens when Judge Klaser asked Parker, who bluntly stated that he would vote for me.  Queens eyes widened briefly, the narrowed glaring at Parker.
    Shaking my head, I stood.  “Guess that settles it.”  
    I started to walk out but upon passing by Queens he grabbed my arm.  “I’ll settle with you later,” he promised with a sneer.
    “Let go, or you’ll never use that hand again!” I ordered.
    He released my arm and I continued on my way out the door.  Queens jumped up, “Tough guy, I’ll make sure I settle with you…”

Well, Mr. Newsome, what brings you out in this weather?” inquired Molly.  “I hope that Jewelene is not ailing.”
    “No, no, I just need to talk with Marshal Forrest,” came a nervous reply.
    “John, sit down, I get you some coffee,” I said as I stood to get a cup from the shelf.
    “Uh, Marshal…”
    “Sit down, John,” I said invitingly, while Rev. Chapman pulled up a chair for him.  “After all these years, don’t you think it’s time to call me Miles.”
    Putting the cup in front of him, I looked at the door again, expecting Wilson Foster to walk through.  I gave my head a slight shake then sat myself down.  “What can I do for you?”
    He had both hands on the cup tapping his fingers on it.  I don’t know if he was warming them, or it was being nervous.  “Well, uh, Marshal, uh, Miles, I really should speak in private, after all it is city business.”
    “John, all of these folks are citizens of Durango.  Go ahead, I’d probably tell them anyway,” I responded.  He glanced at Rev. Chapman.  “Do you know the new preacher?”
    “Uh, Mrs. Newsome and I go to the other church in town, but, uh, yes, he came by the store to introduce himself,” he said before taking a sip of coffee.  He grimaced.
    Marta jumped to her feet.  “I’ll get some honey.  And, Mr. Newsome would you like cream?”
    He gave a nervous smile, “Yes, please.”
    “Uh, Marshal…”
    “Spit it out, John.  What do you want?
    “I know that next Tuesday is to be your last day as marshal in Durango.  I,” he paused while Marta handed him the honey and cream.  “I for want have appreciated your services.  As you know, Paul Parker, the undertaker was elected to the council, and in a meeting with Judge Klaser and Mr. Parker, we selected Stan Offut, he ran against Parker, you might remember, to replace Wilson in his illness.”
    He had everyone’s attention.  Perhaps that was making him more nervous.  “Well, we only had one name, one person who was interested in the position of town marshal.”
    “And who might that be?” asked Doc in his normal, gruff manner.
    Newsome took a long swallow.  “Mike Queens.”
    “Queens!” Doc exclaimed.
    Molly spoke up, “Mister Newsome, are you sure you want Mike Queens to be town marshal?”  She looked at me, “Miles, what do you know about him?”
    “I know he’s a hardcase.  Spends most of his time in Silverton.  I’ve heard reports of him traveling to Taos and stirrin’ up trouble there.  Are you sure you want Queens?”
    Newsome was fiddling with his cup again.  “You want another cup, Mr. Newsome?” asked Marta politely.
    “No, no, thank you.  That’s why I’m here, Marshal.  I, we, the council would like for you to remain as marshal.”
    I took a sip of my coffee then wiped the droplets off my moustache with the back of my hand for which I received a slight frown from Molly.  I pulled on each end of my moustache before answering.  “You are sayin’ that you want me to remain as marshal?  Am I right?”
    He nodded, “Yes, you see Queens won’t work with a Mexican, and our arrangement with you and Judge Klaser over Ramirez because of his injury was that he would remain deputy.”
    “So, are you tellin’ me that the only reason you want me is to fulfill your obligation to Mateo and the orders of the court?”
    “Bah,” came a grunt from Doc.
    I looked at the others at the table, and found them all looking at me.  I twisted the left side of my moustache again as I pondered what was before me.  “Tell you what, John.  I’ll take the job providing that I receive full pay and that Mateo Ramirez does as well.”
    He swallowed hard, and now was wiping his face with his hand.  “Well, well, I, uh….”

Doc said I must have thumped the prisoner mighty hard, or just happened to hit the right place for he was out for two days.  Doc checked him out and said that his skull wasn’t cracked so with the help of a couple of men we struggled through the snow to put him in the jail.  Mateo was working primarily from the office so he said he would care for him until he came to and Charlie was able to question him.
    I was ordered, by Molly, and it was cordially accepted by Mateo that I was to bring him his meals while he was in the office and the snow was heavy on the ground.  Mateo was still using a crutch to get around, though in the office he might hobble from the stove for coffee or to throw some wood in to keep the place warm.
    Charlie’s arm was healing since Doc did that little surgery on it.  Doc told Charlie he was fortunate that he came in when he did.  Another day or so and he most likely would have had to cut the arm off.  But once he had it cleaned good, cut out all the infection, and actually pulled out a small piece of cloth, it began to heal.     
    When the fellow came to, he told us that his name was Sam Smith.  Now, ain’t that a good one.  Sure are a lot of Smiths running around in the West.  I happened to be in the office with Mateo and Charlie when the prisoner, Mr. Sam Smith woke up from the little nap I had induced.
    “Did you shoot Sheriff Gold for no reason?” I asked sternly.
    Smith put his hand to the top of his head where I thumped him, the slowly replied.  “Who said I shot him?”
    “When you saw Sheriff Gold in town you were surprised, and went to Doc’s office to finish the job,” I snapped at him.
    He slowly lifted his head to look at me.  Then he turned his head slightly to see Mateo and Charlie’s face he gave a little smile before answering.  “I’m sorry the Sheriff’s arm took a bullet, but it wasn’t me.  No witnesses to say it was.”
    I was starting to get a little agitated.  “I do have two witnesses that will testify that you went into Doc’s office to shoot Sheriff Gold!”  I paused a moment to pull and twist at my moustache and to let what I said sink into his thick skull.  It must be thick if that Greener I thumped him with didn’t crack it.  “Listen, Smith, that will get you at least twenty years at Canon City.  Since the Sheriff had been shot, I figured that the Judge will not be one bit lenient.”
    Smith was working his tongue around inside his mouth, I reckon that meant he was thinking.  Maybe I rattled his skull enough for him to get some sense.
    “There’s a bounty out on Gold’s head,” he stammered.
    “Bounty!” Charlie exclaimed.  “Who?”
    Smith took a deep sigh.  Now he was the one who was agitated.  I could see that he was nervous so I piped up.  “You’re as safe here as anywhere.  Marshal Ramirez is staying in the jail.”
    “Chalk Willard, owner of the Gilded Cage and a couple of other places, put it out.  He thinks the Sheriff is harassing him.”
    “How much?” I questioned.
    Smith felt his head again.  “I need to lie down, my head’s hurting.”
    “How much?” I questioned again, with more force in my voice.
    “Two hundred dollars,” he said as he lay   back and moaned.
    We all looked at each other as we left the cell area.  Charlie and Mateo each went to a desk; I put on a coat ready to walk out.  “I need some fresh air.”
    The snow had stopped falling but it was still piled up, almost two feet.  The temperature hadn’t reached twenty degrees so it was not melting, however, the store owners had their walks cleared and there was enough traffic on the main streets to pack it down.  
    As I stepped off the boardwalk into the snowy street I looked to see Rev. Chapman coming my direction.  “Howdy, Parson.  Walk with me and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
    He was all bundled up, a muffler wrapped around his face so I couldn’t see if he smiled or not, but he nodded and we headed on down toward the diner.  We entered and headed straight for the table where I normally sit.  Doc and Edith, his wife, were sitting there along with Molly and Marta.  My chair was vacant so I naturally went to it.
    “I told the preacher here, that I’d buy him a cup of coffee.”  When I said that there was laughter from the four of them.  
    “Miles, when was the last time you bought a cup of coffee in this place?” inquired Doc.
    I took off my heavy sheep-skin coat and fumbled in my pocket finding a quarter and slapping it on the table.  “Right now, and I’ll pay for the rest of you as well.”
    “Miles,” spoke up Edith, “that still leaves you a nickel short.”  That brought the laughter again.
    Friends, it’s always nice to sit around a table with friends.  Too often we forget to thank the Lord for the good friends that we have.  I got cups for the preacher and myself, filled them, then refilled the others.  
    There came a sound from Molly of clearing her throat, then she asked, “Miles, have you told Rev. Chapman about giving Mateo’s pie to Solly Vendor?”  That brought another round of laughter.
    “Solly Vendor?” Rev. Chapman, questioned.  “The owner of the tobacco store?”
    “Don’t worry there none, Preacher.  Miles gave up the chaw several years back,” laughed Doc Jones which again brought the guffaws from the rest of the table.
    I glared at them, “My, such good friends…”
    Then stared at the door when John Newsome walked in.  Now what in the world could he want?  I was soon to find out…