Two people can accomplish more than twice as much as one; they get a better return for their labor.”  — Ecclesiastes 4:9 (NLT)

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     I didn’t say anything else, but quickly snapped the handcuffs on the wrists of so-called John Smith.  He jerked back, but it was too late, the cuffs were already on and tight.

“Why’d you do that for?  I’m not part of McGinnis’ gang!”

     All I could do is smile then replied, “We’ll let the courts and a jury decide that.”

     “No, you can’t…”

     I was up and back over where Doc was working on McGinnis who was now conscious.  “What’s the verdict?” I inquired, looking down at the bloody man.  

     “He’s fortunate, there’s no place where the lead hit a vein or artery.  He might never regain full use of that arm, a couple of pieces tore up the joint, but he should live barring infection,” he paused to glance at my shoulder.  “I need to get you patched up.”

     “Let’s wait until we get down to the jail, then you can sew me up.”  I took a step up on one of the chairs and hollered, “As of now, and further notice, this saloon is officially closed!”  There was some grumbling but men started moving toward the doorway.  One man, holding his arm, looked my direction.  I nodded, then waved for him to come to me.  

     When he approached I stepped down off the chair as most of the crowd was out the door.  “You all right?” I asked, then looked at the Doc.

     “Bullet went right through the meaty part of his arm.  He’ll be okay, but won’t be swinging any hammers for a while.”  

     My attention went back to the wounded man.  “Got a name?”

     “Osian Beavin,” he answered with a slight accent.  “That’ll be up to the boss if’n he has anything that I can do.”

     He wasn’t downcast or anxious over the situation.  “You get fired come on down to Durango, I’ll see that you get some work to see you through.”

     “I’d be grateful to yuh, Marshal,” he said half-smiling.  “Just in the right place at the wrong time, or something like that.”  He nodded then turned to leave bumping into the undertaker on the way out.

     He turned in my direction shaking his head.  “Marshal, it seems that you have the tendency to throw work my way.”

     “Mister Lawton, I leave the deceased in your hands.  Make sure the place is locked up when you leave.  I imagine the keys are behind the bar or on the corpse on the floor.”

My attention went back to the doctor and McGinnis, “Let’s go down to the jail.”  I grabbed John Smith by the collar and started for the door.

     There was grumbling behind me from McGinnis.  “I can’t walk, I hurt too bad.”

     Lifting the Greener, I turned to McGinnis, “You walk, stumble, or crawl, but if you can’t make it I’ll give you a thump and drag you.”

     He lowered his head and began to shuffle towards the entrance with the doc next to him.

     On the way I had to have Smith help the Doc half carry McGinnis to the jail, but we made it and it only took a couple of hard bangs on the door and my hollering for Tanner to open it up.  “Hey, Charlie, I brought you some company.”

     The deputy was wide-eyed, still nervous and looked out the door to see if any one was following us.  “Yur alive?” he muttered.

     “Yep, the good Lord sent a band of angels to watch over me.  Evil was put in its place for the time bein’.  Now help me get these two situated.”

     Within minutes we had the two in cells.  Doc checked McGinnis again to make sure that he wasn’t bleeding and told me to sit and found a groove on my shoulder just below the bone.  It was deep enough that he had to sew it up.  While he was doing that I thought, “another scar to add to the collection.”  I sighed, “Lord, what am I goin’ to look like when I reach heaven?”  

     “What’s that you said?” asked the doctor.  I hadn’t realized I had spoken out loud.  

     “Just askin’ the good Lord a question.”

     With that, the doctor touched my head.  I smiled.

     In a few minutes, he left and I talked to Charlie who was sitting up on his cot.  “Charlie, we have to do something about this den of iniquity.  What’s that, four marshals in the last two years and Masterson didn’t want to stay either.”

     He looked at me, then at his badge…

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     As I approached McGinnis, he was trying to sit up.  He was bleeding in several places on the left side of his body.  I couldn’t tell how serious any of them were, but I saw that he still had enough life to raise his gun.  I was close to him, so I swatted his wrist knocking the gun from his hand.

     “McGinnis, you’re under arrest for murder of law enforcement officers and the attempted murder of Sheriff Gold,” I bent over telling him.  “Your days in Silverton are through.”

     There was a sneer on his face.  In all my years as a lawman, I never have figured out why some people want to meet their Maker with a sneer on their face and hate in their heart.

     I heard the steps of a man approach so I stood to face him.  “Uh, Marshal, yur bleedin’,” he muttered then added, “Doc’s here checkin’ on the man who was wounded from the bullet fired by the Kid.”

     Two things happened, the first was that I began to feel the pain in the top of my left arm and I noticed a man cowering over in the corner.  He was the other man sitting at the table.  Thank the good Lord, my foolishness didn’t cause me to get shot by him.  Fortunately his cowardness left me unharmed.  I walked toward the man, who was holding his arms in the air as he sat on the floor.

     “Get up!” I ordered.

     “I’m not part of McGinnis’ crowd,” he whimpered in fear.  “I was just sitting with him having a drink.”

     “Get up and sit over here where I can watch you better,” I said again.  He hesitated so I lifted the Greener which caused him to move quite rapidly toward the chair by the table.  “Sit there!”

     From the center of the room, I saw a man grab the doctor by the sleeve of his jacket and pull him in my direction.  He came to me, looked at my arm, when I stopped him.  “Better check on McGinnis first, this’ll keep.”

     He grunted, then stooped to where McGinnis lay on the floor.  I heard a groan when Doc began to remove his clothing.  “Bring me a couple of lamps so I can see better!”

     The man who brought Doc over went to the back of the bar where there were a couple of lamps on the counter bringing them over to the table.  “Sit them there, then a couple of you men lift him onto the table.  I can’t see down here on the floor.”

     There was a yell from McGinnis as he was lifted, then quiet.  He had passed out, which was probably good for him as Doc had to remove his clothing from his left side which was covered in blood.  “I’ll have to operate here, he’s in too bad a condition to move him down to my office,” he said to no one in particular.  He then looked over to the bar and asked, “Where’s the bartender?  I need some hot water.”

     There was no answer, so I volunteered, “I reckon he’s dead.”  

     The Doc looked at me in disbelief, then barked, “I need someone to get hot water for me!”

     I looked at a man, “You mind helpin’ out?  See what you can do in the back.”

     While the doctor was discarding McGinnis’ clothing, I saw him glance at the other man on the floor.  With a shake of his head he turned his attention back to McGinnis.  The man brought a bucket of water from the back.  “It’s not hot Doc, but it’s all I could find.”

     The Doc gave out a grunt, took some bandages from his bag and began to wipe away the blood from McGinnis.  “Why he has two, no three holes in him,” he muttered.  “Buckshot.  If they haven’t penetrated too deeply he should pull through.”

     I began to feel the sting on my shoulder.  I looked over at it, but couldn’t see anything with my jacket and shirt on except that it was covered with blood.  I didn’t think there was anything serious.  While the Doc was working on McGinnis, I went over to the man I had placed at the table next to where Doc was working.  “You got a name?”

     He spluttered, “Smith, John Smith”

     “You want to play games, go ahead, but do you realize how many John Smiths I have encountered over the years?  Now, if you want to get serious, tell me your name, if not I’ll put these cuffs on you.”

     He looked at me with a crazed glare…

Then I observed that most people are motivated to success by their envy of their neighbors.  But this, too, is meaningless, like chasing the wind.”  

–Ecclesiastes 4:4 (NLT)

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     I walked through the saloon doors then took a step to my left to let my eyes adjust and so I could survey the room.  It was crowded and much warmer than outside though most of the customers had their coats or jackets on; it also smelled like beer, sweat, and vomit.  In my experience that was the norm unless the bartender and owner mopped the floors regularly.

     Now to find McGinnis.  I was at a disadvantage not knowing what he looked like.  As my eyes gathered in the customers I noticed a man to my left that was watching me.  One of McGinnis’.  A  slick-looking man was at the bar wearing his gun low; that must be the Kid, and the table in the back next to him were three men, the best dressed I figured was McGinnis.

     It was time to get this started.  Heading towards the bar, not many paid attention to me, I was just another customer, so I took notice of those who did.  So far, I had counted four men who most likely were his minions.  

     “Whiskey?” the barkeep asked as I stepped up to the bar.  

     “McGinnis,” came my sharp reply.  It sort of took him back and he had a puzzled look on his face as if I was asking for a particular brand of whiskey.  I stared hard at the man and repeated, “McGinnis!”

     The Kid standing at the end of the bar took notice moving to the corner.  His hands were low, near his gun.

     The bartender finally answered, “Who should I tell is asking for him?”

     “United States Deputy Marshal Miles Forrest,” I barked, turning slightly toward the Kid and the table where I thought McGinnis was sitting.

     “Get out lawdog,” came a menacing voice which almost made me chuckle.  It was the Kid, now moving away from the bar.

     “If you’re Malloy, I’ll deal with you after I arrest McGinnis.”  That made him sneer, like the real tough man he thought he was.  It ranckled him that I paid him little mind.

     His hand moved slightly closer to the butt of his gun.  “Arrest for what?”

     “Sonny-boy, move aside if he is sitting behind you I’d hate for you to get in my way.”  His face was turning red; good, I wanted him angry.  It was then that the three men at the table had moved slightly.  I wished the Kid wasn’t standing there, I could take all three of them out with the Greener, but as it was the Kid would have to come first.

     “Big man, standing there with a shotgun!” snarled the Kid.

     I moved the Greener to my left hand, and moved my jacket so I could have freer access to my pistol.  “If you’re that sneaky Kid who only shoots people in the back, I might as well deal with your first.  You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Sheriff Charlie Gold.”

     A voice from the table piped up, “I thought you said that sheriff was dead.”

     Not taking my eyes from Malloy I answered, “Not hardly.  Now unbuckle your gunbelt or go for it,” I paused, then added, “Do you have a name besides Kid, I always like to know who I’m sendin’ to their Maker.”

     I was half expecting it.  He didn’t reply, but went for his gun.  He was fast, too fast for his shot went wide and I heard a grunt from a man in the room, while I drew my pistol and shot the Kid through the breadbasket, splitting his breastbone in half.  His eyes widened and that was the last expression he would ever make.  One of the men at the table pulled his gun, but was hindered by the table.  I shot him twice before he had leveled his gun above the table.  It was time to make a switch.  Quickly I holstered my pistol then brought the Greener up to bear.

     Foolish!  Both men at the table fired.  I felt the sting of a bullet, but I cut loose with one barrel, instantly killing one man and knocking the other man, McGinnis, over backward.

I saw the bartender move to bring a shotgun up from under the bar.  My other barrel cut loose on him, knocking him back against the counter behind him breaking several bottles. The other pieces of buckshot did a job on more bottles and the grand mirror on the wall.

     I knew there was at least one more man in the room.  With the shotgun empty I dropped it to bring my pistol up again.  A man shot, the bullet whizzing past me hitting the bar.  My pistol blasted, once, twice, the second bullet hitting the man.  I only had one more shell in the gun; I hoped there weren’t any others.

     It was still, so I reached down to pick up the Greener and reloaded it.  With that done, I shouted, “Anyone else want to join this little circus?”  There were no takers, so I continued, “If not, I’d be obliged if all of you would be kind enough to put both hands on the table.  If I see anyone not complyin’ I’ll figure that you are against me, and you and whoever is sitting next to you will feel a load of lead.”

     From what I could see all complied with my wishes.  I half-turned to walk over to where McGinnis was on the floor…

Again I observed all the oppression that takes place in our world.  I saw the tears of the oppressed, with no one to comfort them.  The oppressors have great power, and the victims are helpless.”  

–Ecclesiastes 4:1, NLT

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     I walked as a man on a mission.  It was half a dozen blocks up to the Glass Slipper.  I decided not to go up Blair Street; that would give notice that I was on my way if McGinnis had anyone watching.  I had just turned the corner when the wind picked up.  Between the buildings I felt a rush swirl around me, then on down the road picking up debris, dust, and anything else that might be on the ground.

     Now I wasn’t much into omens, but I had experiences with strange occurrences in my life.  Was it just natural, or some sort of supernatural phenomenon that blew past me?  I stopped at the corner leading onto Blair Street.  The Glass Slipper was up at the end of the block.  It was there the thought struck me–why didn’t I wait to get more help?  Then I caught myself smiling, who else was there besides Charlie and a deputy scared of anything that moved.

    Omen or not, the wind made me think of a time, when a rushing, mighty wind came upon those disciples in the upper room.  A wind that signified the coming of power.  It caused me to think of Parson Chapman praying for me at that moment, and I had to chuckle slightly as I whispered a little prayer.  “All right Lord, let’s get this done.”

     I didn’t hurry up the street.  It was cold enough that the doors were shut on most of the businesses of vice.  There were no hawkers or drunks around, just miners that were going in and out of the establishments, and one lone marshal.  

     Since the outer doors were shut I couldn’t look inside the saloon.  I tried peering through one of the windows, but to no avail.  Pausing to look at my situation, I tried to imagine what it looked like inside.  Was the bar in front of me, or to one of the sides?  Where would McGinnis be?  At a table, in an office, and what of this hot-shot Kid Mallow?  I could blast out the window, that would get everyone’s attention, but it might also hurt innocent bystanders.  Ha, that is if anyone in this place was innocent.

     At that moment there were three miners coming down the hill just finishing off their shift and were headed into the Glass Slipper.  I would just ease in with them.  I felt the breeze again around my neck as I joined them to enter.  One of them nodded at me, to which I returned a nod.

     Another one said, “Now only one beer tonight, Levi,” admonished one of the miners.  

    “Why’d yuh bring us to this place?” grumbled the man identified as Levi.

     “Closest one to the mine,” came the answer.

     The man who had greeted me grunted, “What difference does it matter?”

     I walked in with them, stopped at the entrance while they went on up to the bar.  I wanted my eyes to adjust and look over the people in the room.  The bar was in front of me with tables in front, I counted seven–lucky number or so some say.  To the right of the bar was a room, could be an office and leaning at the bar in front of the door was a young kid–Mally maybe?  Scanning the room I saw another man seated to my left, doing nothing but watching the crowd.  I’m sure there were more in the room if what Tanner had told me was correct.

     Time to introduce myself…