Reaching out my hand, “Let me see that poster of Keim again.”  
    There was some hesitation as Shaw looked into my eyes then shifted them to glance at the Greener I was holding in my right hand.  He reached in his pocket for the folded paper and reluctantly handed it to me.
    I looked it over carefully.  He turned my eyes back to Shaw.  “Was this issued by the State of Kansas or any of the counties therein?”
    He sneered, “Don’t make no difference; it’s a wanted poster!”
    “Well, it makes quite the difference.  People can go makin’ up their own wanted posters that would make them an accessory to murder.  Now from what I understand from Mr. Keim is that this was issued by the Langford family.”
    Shaw’s eyes widened and he started to jump up from his chair when I gently, well sorta gently put the Greener on his shoulder.  “Just stay seated!”
    I tapped the Greener on his cheek.  “Let me tell you straight, and I’ll tell you only once.  Anything happens to Conrad Keim, whether he is killed or disappears, I will hunt you down.  I’ll make sure you hang.”
    Hatred entered his eyes making me wonder if my name was added to his poster.  I had him pretty well figured out.  He wasn’t a tough man, but a cheap, weak sample of a man.  He wasn’t the type who would face up to anyone, but would only come from their blindside, shooting  them in the back.
    “I am waiting for a telegram from the U.S. Marshal’s office in Kansas awaiting information concernin’ this poster.  If it says what I think it will say I’m comin’ for you,” I informed him, not bothering to tell him I hadn’t sent the telegram to them, yet.
    “What for?” he almost screamed.  “I haven’t done anything.”
    I tapped his cheek again with the Greener.  “You pointed a gun and threatened an innocent citizen.  You are tryin’ to enforce an illegal wanted poster and by pointin’ that gun of yours I could imply it was a threat of murder,” I paused for him to think about it.  “Plus, you have disturbed the peace of this town, and agitated me to no end.  I don’t like that.”
    He snatched the poster back.  “Can’t Keim take care of himself or does he always hide behind yur skirts?”
    Well, that did it.  I raised the Greener to give him a little thump alongside the head.  Nothing to really hurt, but enough to get his attention.  He did right well, for he maintained a sitting position in his chair with the thump.  I did see his hand move toward his pistol.
    “That would not be real bright,” I muttered then smiled.
    By now his eyes blazed bright with hate.  “Shaw, you ought to leave town.  I can’t be around to protect you all the time and,” I turned to look at Keim then back to Shaw, “I think that Keim would easily take care of you.  That is if you dared to face him.”
    He was breathing deeply.  “Can I leave now?” he asked with a snarl.
    “Why surely,” I responded.  Shaw stood up knocking the chair over as he did and started to walk off.  I put the Greener out in front of him barring his retreat.  “Forget somethin’?” I pointed to the chair.
    His jaws tightened, he was not a happy person, but finally he remembered some manners taught by his mother, bless her soul, or maybe it was the 12-gauge shotgun I held but he reached down to pick up the chair scooting it under the table.  I couldn’t make it out but he was muttering something under his breath.
    “Speak up!  Don’t let there be secrets between us.  If’n your makin’ a threat I’d like to know.”
    He didn’t say any more just stalked off.  Just before he got to the door, I hollered, “Shaw, remember my job is to keep the peace and protect the citizens of this town.”  He glanced at me then proceeded out the door.  I turned my attention to Keim.  “That goes for you as well.”
    I went back to my table setting the Greener on the table then picked up my cup of cold coffee.  Leaving it on the table I went to the counter for a new cup and poured a fresh cup.  “Sorry gentlemen,” I said after sitting.  “Part of the job.”
    Reverend Chapman rubbed his chin then spoke, “Well, that was entertaining.  Is that typical?”
    Giving him a glance then over to the Rev. Robinson, who I thought was trying to hide a smile.  I took a sip before answering.  “No, it was done special for the new pastor,” then lifted my cup for a deeper swallow.  “Just count it toward the offering this Sunday.”
    That brought an actual chuckle from Rev. Robinson.  Molly came up to the table at that time.  “What’s so funny?  I just thought I’d see if you gentlemen were ready for your pie…”

Shaw headed toward a table then angled over to where we were gathered.  He stood beside the chair occupied by Rev. Chapman’s cousin, Clyde Hoffner.  He didn’t so much glance at any of the rest of us.
    “Stand up!” he ordered Clyde.
    Clyde glimpsed at Rev. Chapman, shrugged his shoulders and stood.  Shaw scrutinized him carefully, then asked, “Ever been to Kansas?”
    “Phftt,” muttered Clyde as he sat back down, “you can’t get to Colorado from the east without going through Kansas.  Now, what’s this all about?”
    In a flash Shaw had pulled his gun.  “Get up, you’re coming with me, Keim.”
    “Keim?” uttered Clyde with puzzlement on his face.  “What are you talking about?”
    “Cut out the nonsense, you’re Conrad Keim, and you’ll either get up or I’ll pull you out by your boots,” stated Shaw with a sneer.
    “Easy, easy,” I muttered, then Shaw pointed the gun in my direction.  I glared at him, “You best not point that gun at me.”
    This time he did sneer, “Why not?  You’re hiding a criminal.”
    He was beginning to agitate me.  “This is Clyde Hoffner, the Rev. Chapman’s cousin.  The Reverend is our new pastor.”
    “I don’t have much shuck to do with a preacher,” hissed Shaw.  “Now I won’t tell you again!”
    Reverend Robinson looked up at Shaw, “I don’t understand.  We can all vouch for Clyde.”
    Shaw snarled at him, “Shut up!”  When he did Rev. Chapman reached to clasp Shaw’s arm in a vice grip.  I knew the preacher had a grip when I shook hands with him at the office.  Shaw tried to turn his arm so he could point the gun at the preacher.  It was enough; I had the Greener up and under Shaw’s chin.
    “Now, then…I don’t take kindly to havin’ a gun pointed at me for no reason.  Plus, I don’t take kindly to you questionin’ the Reverend.  I don’t reckon you’re goin’ to apologize, but if I find you’ve shot this man or taken him I’ll hunt you down.  Understand?” I responded, then gave a slight grin.
    There was no response so I prodded upward against the underside of his chin with the shotgun.  “Understand?”
    “I understand,” he spat.
    “Now go sit!” I commanded.  Shaw went over to the table adjacent to us and against the wall.  
    He hadn’t no more sat down when in through the door walked Cecil Thompson, a cowboy I didn’t recognize, and his foreman, Conrad.  “Hmmm,” I murmured quietly.  “Lord, help us now.”
    Glancing at Shaw, I saw that he noticed the man as well.  If I remember the poster right, he fit the description of Conrad Keim much better than Clyde.
    “Don’t!” I ordered then got up from my chair and walked to the table that Thompson had chosen.  “Mind if I sit a minute?”
    After receiving the nod from Mr. Thompson, I sat.  “Mister Thompson, we may have gotten started off on the wrong foot, but I need to talk straight with your foreman.  You have a problem with that?”
    “Go ahead, Conrad will answer what he wants; he’s a growed man,” remarked Thompson.
    Turning my full attention to the foreman I came right out with it.  “Are you Conrad Keim?”
    His right cheek twitched and his blinked his eyes.  “Why do you want to know?”
    When I get an answer like that I know I’m on the right track.  “It don’t mean much to me, but there’s a fellow in town looking for a Conrad Keim who is wanted in Kansas.  I was just askin’ ’cause it’s my job to keep the peace in this town.”
    He scratched the back of his head, then looked at Thompson.  “I’m Keim, but I’m not wanted for anything by the state of Kansas.”
    “Poster I saw says different,” I stated.
    “Are you after me?” he questioned then continued.  “That poster was put out by the Langford family.  It’s not a state poster.”
    “Conrad’s a good man, one of the best I’ve ever employed,” Thompson interceded, “I don’t want to lose him.”
    I sighed, then stood up.  “Thanks,” I said, “Don’t get yourself in trouble by doin’ something rash.”
    As I turned I could see Shaw glaring at me.  I went straight for him…

Parson, come on in,” I said, then began to introduce him to Upton Shaw.
    “Shaw, you might want to ask the preacher about the man you’re seekin’.  He knows most everyone in the community,” I suggested to the bounty hunter.
    Reverend Robinson accepted the poster and began to scrutinize the weak drawing of Conrad Keim.  He shook his head several times as he was saying, “hmmm, hmmm.”  “There’s no one in town by that name that I know of, and I sure don’t recollect seeing that face.”
    The was a grunt that sounded almost like a snarl from Shaw.  “I reckon a preacher wouldn’t lie,” he snapped glaring hard at the preacher who returned his stare.
    “Preacher, why don’t you stop by the diner and I’ll treat you to a piece of pie.  Molly baked some butterscotch pies this mornin’.”
    A large smile appeared on his face.  “I’ll sure do that.  Listen, the new pastor just arrived.  Mind if I bring him by as well? I’m taking him around town to meet the folk.  I want him to get started off right.”
    “Yeah, I heard you and Lucy were leavin’.  I don’t mind tellin’ you that I’m sorry you are.  You sure have been the Lord’s blessin’ to the folks here,” I said.
    “That’s mighty nice of you to say, Miles.  We tried our best, but the Lord has called us on to a new church in Cortez.  We hope to build a fine congregation there, plus we are going to minister to the Navaho and Pueblo in the area,” the Reverend informed us.
    Shaw cleared his throat.  “If you two bleeding hearts don’t mind I’ll be leaving,” he paused then looked at me.  “Perhaps someone in town has seen him.  I’ll see you again Marshal.”
    I told Rev. Robinson to go on back to see Parsons.  “When you’re done come on down.”  Then I turned my attention to Shaw as he was walking toward to doorway.  “Shaw, come down to the diner; I’ll treat you as well.”  He gave a little grunt then walked on out heading for the saloon just up the street.  Oswald Dierker was still bartender and running the place until a descendant of Olson could be found.
    “Make sure the door’s shut when you leave,” I hollered then walked out.  I walked up the street, not really following Shaw, but I want people to see that I’m up and around and that I notice when a stranger comes to town.  Awareness is really a major part of the job.  People just naturally act some better when they know the marshal is around.
    It was close to noon when I arrived back at the diner.  The town seemed busy with people going about their daily lives and business.  I checked with Doc Jones to see how the wounded man was doing.  It looks as if he was going to pull through barring infection.  
    The diner was busier than usual.  As Molly brought me a large bowl of chili and some of Emelda’s fresh made tortillas I asked her about it.  She shrugged, “Guess the town is growing.  There’s a few faces that I haven’t seen before.”
    I looked at those she mentioned and didn’t see anything threatening or unusual about them.  They weren’t miners for sure.  I grabbed her arm when she started to leave.  “Miles, I’ve work to do!”
    “Just want to let you know that the Rev. Robinson is bringin’ the new preacher around to visit.”
    A concerned look appeared on her face.  “I wish he wasn’t leaving.  It’s hard to break in a new preacher.”
    “Molly, just remember Who is in charge.  All will work out all right,” I stated.
    She gave me a little wave.  “Oh, I know that.  I just was fond of Lucy and I enjoyed the preacher’s sermons.  Just have to get used to a new preacher.”
    “Be sure to save some of that butterscotch pie,” I warned her.  “They’ll be expectin’ a piece.”
    “Is that right?  I’ll save at least two pieces then,” she informed me getting my attention.  So I gave her what she wanted, a pouty face.  “Maybe, there’ll be enough for three,” she laughed then went back to work.
    I was just finishing up my chili when Rev. Robinson and two other men walked through the doorway.  One was a tall, husky man, broad in the shoulders, wearing the typical black attire of a preacher.  The other man was smaller, definitely not a minister.
    Reverend Robinson spotted me for he knew I had my table reserved back near the stove and gave a wave walking in my direction.  There was a private coffeepot I keep on the stove so I didn’t have to be bothering Molly or Marta for refills.
    I stood as they approached.  “Miles, this is Rev. Chapman.  He will be taking over the congregation for me,” he paused while Chapman reached out his hand to shake mine.  “The other man is Clyde Hoffner, the Reverend’s cousin.  He helped with the Reverend’s move.”
    They had just seated themselves when Upton Shaw walked in the diner…

 I had just come out of the diner and was standing on the boardwalk when I watched him ride down the road past the diner and on toward the town square.  I recognized the type, not hard in my line of work and for as long as I’ve been doing it, but he was slumped down in the saddle.  Perhaps he had a long ride and was just tired.  I decided to follow him.
     The stranger reined in at the Sheriff’s Office, dismounted and went inside the office.  I could hear him yell, “Sheriff!  Sheriff!”  He then began to talk with Nick Parsons in the cell, but I couldn’t make out the conversation.
     That is, until I entered the office.  He was fuming and cursing.  “What kind of a place is this?” He said to no one in particular unless he was addressing Parsons.  “No sheriff, no deputies!”
     He turned to leave and was startled to see me standing in the doorway.  His hand moved to the butt of his gun.  It hadn’t been that long of a ride to dull his reaction. 
     “Can I help you?” I asked, calmly holding the Greener in my left hand.
     “Looking for the Sheriff!” he exclaimed.
     “Sheriff’s up in Silverton on his monthly rounds to the minin’ camps,” I replied.
     There came an oath, then he roared, “What about a deputy?  If he’s out running ’round the countryside there ought to be a deputy in the jail.  Why there’s a prisoner, where’s the deputy?”
     I put my hat on the edge of a desk that I had assumed for the office of town marshal.  Mateo and I shared it when we were in the office, which was a rare occasion.  “Sheriff doesn’t have a deputy,” I replied after I sat down behind the desk. 
     “What about a town marshal?  Where’s he at?”  He questioned a little more calmly but still agitated.
     Pulling at the end of my mustache and twisting it.  “Well, the marshal’s deputy is out for lunch.”  I was going to keep edging him along some.  “Perhaps I can help you.”
     “Any place I can get something to eat?” he asked, “And a place to stay?”
     “Just down the street, on the plaza is the Durango Hotel.  Good as any to stay in town.  There’s a great diner you passed on the way in.”
     “You watched me come in?”
     “That’s sorta part of my job as town marshal, to be aware of strangers when they come to town,” I stated.
     He cursed again; I might have to find a bar of soap, thump him a good one then stick it in his mouth.  A person should have a better working of the English language so that he doesn’t have to get profane.  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he snapped.
     “I asked if I could help you, but all you could do was cuss and ask for the Sheriff.  Now, if you’ll state your business I may be able to help,” I informed him speaking calmly.
     “Marshal, I’m Upton Shaw.  I’m looking for a man,” he muttered.
     I squinted my eyes a bit causing my forehead to wrinkle.  “Might this man have a name?”
     “Conrad Keim,” he replied.  “I have a poster on him.”
     “Hmmm,” I breathed, “bounty hunter.  I don’t recognize the name.  Is there a face on the poster?”
     Reaching in the left-hand lower pocket of his vest, he took out a paper which he proceeded to unfold then handed it to me.  “Wanted:  Dead or Alive for Murder, Arson, and Robbery–State of Kansas.”
     I didn’t recognize the picture.  I had recently come across a man by the name of Conrad, but he didn’t really have any resemblance to the face on the poster.  However, that wasn’t unusual.  “He’s not wanted in Colorado,” I simply said, then added, “but no, I don’t recognize the face.”
     “That’s why I’m here, to take him back to Kansas.”
     I sat up in my chair, “Just remember he’s wanted in Kansas, dead or alive, not Colorado.”
     The bounty hunter seemed unfazed concerning my warning, then his head turn to see who was at the doorway.  I followed and saw that it was the preacher.
     “Preacher!” I exclaimed.  It was always good to see E.B. Robinson, the minister of our church in town.  Not only was he a good preacher but he cared about his flock.  “Come in here.  What are you doin’ down at the jail?”
     “I told Nick that I’d stop by to see him,” he said, then in a more hushed tone.  “How’s the man he shot?”
     “From what I last heard he’s still holdin’ on.  Maybe you might want to visit him.  He may be in dire needs of some of your words for his soul…”