Howdy, Parson,” I said as Rev. Chapman approached where I was sitting at the table.  “Let me get you a cup of coffee.”
He sat down as I went to the counter for a cup then poured coffee from the pot that was sitting on the stove behind me.
    After I set the cup in front of him, I went to the corner where the kitchen began.  “Molly, the Preacher is out here, I’m sure he’d like a piece of pie.  Come on and join us for a few minutes.”
    I had just barely set myself down when Molly came out from the kitchen with one slice of pie for the parson and a cup of coffee for herself.  “Hello, Brother Chapman,” she said cheerfully then sat down looking at me.  “Don’t give me those forlorn eyes.  You had a piece not twenty minutes ago.”  She turned to the preacher, “Hope you like butterscotch.”
    He sort of stammered a thank you, saying, “Well, I wasn’t expecting this, but I’ll greatly enjoy it.”  He bowed his head for a short prayer with Molly joining him.  I learned many years ago to practice what the Good Book said, “to watch and pray.”
    “Mmmmm, this is delicious, Sister Forrest,” the reverend declared.
    After taking a couple of bites, he sipped his coffee.  “Parson,” I began as he lifted the cup, “the coffee is always on the stove if you ever want a cup.”  I took a sip myself, then wiped my moustache with the back of my hand for which I received a frown from Molly.  “Now, I’m a-takin’ it that you came to see me and not just eat pie.”
    He gave a broad grin, then shoveled another forkful of pie in his mouth.  I watched him, then turned to look at Molly who was also watching with delight.  She was the best pie-maker I ever come in contact with and that even included Momma who could bake a pie.
    Reverend Chapman finished his coffee, then cleared his throat a couple of times.  I offered him another cup to which he shook his head.  “I heard you were going into the mountains and I wondered if I could tag along.”  It was not a question, nor a request.  It was more an indication that he was going.
    “I’m goin’ up on a manhunt; it might not be pleasant.  Plus, a storm could come in and it could get mighty cold.”
    “Do they have a church in Silverton?” he asked ignoring what I had told him.  “I haven’t been up there yet, and I figured going with you would be safer, plus you could tell me about the country and the town.”
    I glanced at Molly, her cheerful face now gone somber.  Sighing, I said, “Why not.  I’m goin’ to get my horse now, the train leaves in an hour.”
    He had a confused look on his face, “Horse?  I thought you said train.”
    “I’m takin’ my horse, Hawk, up with me.  I might need to check some of the communities in the area.”
    “You’re going after the man who shot Mateo, aren’t you?” he asked interrupting me.  
    I nodded, then added, “I’m also lookin’ for a man who goes by the name of Frank Black.”
    The Preacher stood up to come behind me.  Placing his hands on my shoulder and that of Molly he began to pray for God’s will to be done, for our protection and Molly’s safety while I was gone.  When finished he declared, “I’ll see you at the train station.  Sister Forrest, thank you for the delicious pie and company.”
    We watched him walk out the door and through the window saw him pick up a small bag along with a heavy coat.  He was prepared for the trip.  I had to smile and looked at Molly who was just shaking her head.
    “Miles, it unsettles me when he calls me “Sister.”  I don’t feel as old as that makes me sound.”  That brought a chuckle to me but she continued.  “You be sure to get him back here by Sunday for service.”  With that she got up, bend down to give me a quick kiss on the cheek.  “You be careful,” she muttered then left for the kitchen.
    Within the hour I was watching as Hawk was loaded on the train.  I was anxious to be riding him up in the high country again.  It had been a while.  As I was watching two men walked up to me.  One continued on to load up a horse while the other man stopped to talk with me, so I turned to greet him.  “Hello, Mr. Thompson.”
    “Mind if my man, Langston, goes up with you?  He might be of help.”
    “He can go where he wants, but I won’t have him ridin’ a vengenace trail for you,” I said staring into the eyes of Thompson.
    He replied with a nod, “he only wants to help.”
    It so happened that Kyle Langston, the Reverend, and I were getting on the train at about the same time.  I sat down by a window and as the train pulled out of the station I saw Mateo, on his crutches walking along the platform.
    “What is he doin’?” I wondered…

All fine–STOP–hope all is well with you–STOP–Gibbons says, thanks–STOP” signed, Covney.
    Well, that was a relief, thank the good Lord.  “Molly!” I hollered, “I’m goin’ to the office to see Charlie.”  Before leaving I asked Thompson how long he was going to be in town, telling him to see me before going back to his ranch.
    As I walked across the street Solly came out of his store and grabbed me by the arm.  “Take a look up at Foster’s and Newsome’s, you’ll see a sight,” he said with a broad smile beaming on his face.
    Nodding at him I hurried my walk some.  Turning the corner I glanced up the street to see folks walk around carrying posters, women mostly.  They read:  Vote Out Newsome, Vote Out Foster.  Another read, UnChristian Practices.  John Newsome was standing outside his store, hands on hips watching the display.  I started walking his way.
    Wilson Foster must have been looking through his store window for he rushed out just as I reached Newsome.  “Marshal, you have to stop this, this, riotous act!”  When he said that I glimpsed Darnelle carrying one of the signs.
    “Have they done somethin’ wrong?” I questioned.  “Have they tried to stop anyone from enterin’ your stores?”
    Foster bellowed, “That’s just the point!  No one will enter!”
    I looked at the little parade outside, then asked, “Has anyone been threatened?”
    “They’re threatening us,” piped up Newsome.  “Look at those signs!”
    “I don’t see anythin’ threatenin’ written on them,” I replied, then grinned before addin’ to my thoughts.  “Kinda makes good sense to me.”
    I thought Foster was going to have a conniption fit.  Newsome got red in the face.  “We’ve been on the city council almost since the beginning of Durango.  Now, because of a Mexican getting shot we have this on our hands.”
    Now that statement gave me the urge to thump him along side the head, but I controlled myself.  “No, the problem is your greed.  Why the two of you would steal pennies off a dead man’s eyes then argue about it.”
    If possible, Newsome turned even more red.  Hmmm, I wonder if he’d been guilty of that.  
    “Well!” snapped Foster.  “What are you going to do about it?”
    “Nothin’, they’re within their rights,” I stated then gave my biggest smile, “I wonder who is goin’ to run against you?  Election’s next month.”
    Seeing Darnelle with the group gave me a new thought.  “I guess I could arrest the instigator.  I kinda hate to throw decent citizens in with that bunch of drunkards and no-goods that are currently in jail.”
    As I started forward, Foster moved to block my way.  “Uh, maybe I was speaking a little too hasty.”
    “Let’s see if I can make some sense of this,” I said then motioned for Darnelle to come to me.
    “Marshal Forrest, it’s always pleasant to see you,” she said politely.  “Uncle, Mr. Newsome.  How can I be of help to you Marshal?”
    Tipping my hat along with a quick wink, I asked, “Do you by chance know how much money your Uncle is losin’ each day?”
    She names an amount with a smile, then added, “I don’t know about Mr. Newsome.”
    “I do!” came a yell from the doorway of Newsome’s store.  It was his wife, Jewelene.  She started our way with daggers in her eyes.  I didn’t know if they were for me, Darnelle, or Wilson and John.
    “All this is your fault!” she spluttered.  “You shouldn’t have hired that Mexican for a deputy!”
    “But Mrs. Newsome, hasn’t he kept you safe?  Didn’t he arrest some derelicts attemptin’ to steal some jewelry?  Oh, an’ that time when those cowboys came by makin’ lewd remarks to you, didn’t he stop them makin’ them apologize?”
    She began to stutter.  “Now, if I get this right, the money you are losin’ and will most likely continue to lose will be almost the salary that Mateo would get for a month.”
    I looked at them one at a time.  “That’s about right, Marshal Forrest,” perked in Darnelle along with her wonderful smile.
    “If’n I was you all I would take some time considerin’ the situation,” I uttered.  “Oh, but don’t take too long, election’s comin’ up.”
    Tipping my hat to Mrs. Newsome and Darnelle, I turned to walk away.  I still wanted to see Charlie before Thompson and his men left town.  Hurrying to the sheriff’s office I was fortunate to find him sitting at his desk writing reports from his recent trip.
    “Ah, you’re doin’ the fun stuff,” I teased and received a not too friendly look.
    “Sit down, Miles.  It’s been a while since I’ve chatted with you.”
    Taking the chair that was near Charlie’s desk I set myself.  “Sheriff, I have a couple questions.”
    He took a deep sigh.  “When you refer to me as ‘Sheriff’ I know something is amiss.”
    “Do you recall anything about a Kyle Langston?  He’s workin’ with Cecil Thompson.”
    Charlie scratched just below his ear then answered, “As far as I know that’s all he is.  I did take the time to look through posters when I heard about him.”  Now he rubbed his chin.  “Did he say how Keim is doing?”
    “All he told me was that Keim is recovering at the ranch,” I stated, then continued, “That’s more than I can say about Mateo lying in his adobe.”
    Dropping his head a bit, Charlie gave a little shrug of his shoulders, then asked, “Anything else?”
    “How about a Blackstone?  Have you come across anythin’?”
    He sighed before speaking.  “I don’t think you’re going to like what I found.  There is a Frank Black up in Silverton.  Not the most reputable of men.”
    “Do you think….”

Doc and I finished our pie at the same time and we got up to leave.  Molly came over to give me a quick kiss on the cheek.  Since I had come back and seeing Mateo lying in the street she had shown her affection more in these little ways.  I certainly wasn’t complaining.  Doc was going up to see a couple of patients in the Mexican section and told me he would stop to check on Mateo.
    “Oh, Doc, before you leave.  Do you recollect anyone by the name of Blackstone living in Durango?” I asked.  He stopped, then rubbed his chin several times.
    “Blackstone, Blackstone?  Not an uncommon name, but I can’t recall someone living here by that name,” he answered.
    I was looking down toward the Durango Hotel wondering if Mrs. Blackstone had found any answers and how she was holding up both emotionally and financially.
    “Worried about the woman?” he inquired.
    “Yes, there’s somethin’ about this that’s just not right.  They were both sure that he would be there to meet them at the station,” I said.
    “Maybe Charlie will know, have you asked him yet?”
    Turning my attention to Doc, “No, I don’t think of it when I’ve seen him.  Think I’ll mosey down to the jail to see if he’s in.”
    Doc noticed that my eyes lifted to stare at three approaching riders.  One was Cecil Thompson along with one of his cowboys, Dakota Norris.  I didn’t know the other rider.  They saw me and rode to where I was standing.
    As they were dismounting, Tommy, one of the telegraph runners came up to me with a telegram from Gilford Coveny.  That gave me some concern as it had been Gibbons in charge of the bullion shipment.  Before I opened it I noticed Preacher Chapman hurrying my way and in the background was the hotel where Connor and his mother were staying.
    “See ya, Doc,” I said, turning to go back into the diner.
    Molly happened to see me, “Back so soon?” she inquired.
    I was shaking my head as I went to my table, grabbing a cup from the shelf on the way.  Thompson and his two hands came in as I was pouring hot coffee into the cup from the little stove.  “Molly, please give these men some coffee and anything else they want.”  I then pointed to three chairs.
    As they were sitting I wanted to show my concern, “How is Mr. Keim doin’?”
    “Fine,” he said gruffly, “what I want to know what you’re doing about that bounty hunter?” he paused turning as Molly sat coffee down in front of the three men, “thank you, ma’am.”
    Nodding at Norris, then turning my attention toward the unfamiliar man.  “Uh, this is Kyle Langston.  He is sorta taking the place of Conrad.”  He didn’t bother to reach out to shake my hand, just gave me a slight nod.
    “Sheriff Gold is back in town so I’ll be free to do some lookin’ around.  It’s been a while, but I want the man caught as much as you,” I stated.
    Thompson gave me a grim smile and nodded.  “Just keep me informed.”
    As the three men sipped their coffee, Rev. Chapman came through the door coming straight for me then stopped seeing who was with me at the table.  Motioning with his finger for me to come join him, I excused myself.
    “Parson, what can I do for you?” I asked.
    “Come outside,” he said whispering.
    Following him out, I stopped as the door shut behind us.  “Now, what is this all about?”
    “I heard something of the man you’re seeking,” he said, then stopped looking through the window where Thompson and his men were sitting.  “It may have been just talk, but I’ve heard he’s staying up in Silverton.”
    Looking at him, I inquired, “How reputable is the information?”
    He opened his hands while shrugging his shoulders.  “Just thought I should tell you.”
    Slapping him on the shoulder, “I’ll check on it.”  Then went back inside to talk some more with Thompson.
    “Was that the new preacher?” he asked turning in his chair.  “I’d like to meet him.  The ranch keeps me from getting in often to church.”
    I must have shown my surprise for he followed up, “What’s the matter, Forrest?  Don’t think I can have a relationship with God?  I may be rough and gruff, but I revere my Creator.”
    He got me there.  I dropped my head, then remembered the telegram.  It was wadded up in my left hand.  I opened it fearing the worse…

I had been to see Mateo everyday since I had arrived back home.  Since Charlie had been over in Telluride dealing with an incident I would stop to see Mateo on my daily and nightly rounds.  He was just now getting up and trying crutches.  Doc Jones told him that it would be a slow process healing and that he would never walk normal again.
    Luciana was holding up well and the two boys were helping out at home as they should be.  Ever since Mateo had become my deputy they had taken on more of the house chores, the chopping of wood and such, that Mateo normally would have done.  I had a talk with Judge Klaser about the city council firing Mateo after he was shot.  He said there wasn’t much that could be done, but he gave a wry smile.  
    The morning after I got back I stormed in to see Foster.  I jumped all over him and would have chewed on him good if Darnelle hadn’t been in the shop.  There were other customers and I wanted them to hear what I was saying.  It seemed that Foster just stuck his fingers in his ears and wouldn’t listen.  I told him I had a mind to resign leaving the town unprotected and wondered how Elizabeth would take it when the bums and thugs began to have their own way with the town.
    As I was leaving I heard Darnelle take over where I left off.  She did the chewing.  I heard her exclaim, “Uncle, how could you do such a thing to Mr. Ramirez?  Especially after he was shot trying to put an end to a gunfight!”  From there I took my rampage over to John Newsome.
    I wasn’t able to attend the Sunday service, but Molly told me that the new preacher, Rev. Chapman, preached on the Good Samaritan and how it was the responsibility of the people to help others when they are down and out, not to throw them in the dump.  She said that his eyes were on Foster and Newsome.  This past Monday I found out that a lawyer came to see Foster and said that he was going to enjoy the opportunity to bring the lawsuit against him on behalf of Mateo.  From what Darnelle told me later, Wilson’s eyes got wide and his cheeks bulged with anger but also fright.  Especially when he reminded Foster that there was an election coming up in a month.
    Doc was sitting with me in the diner having our usual morning coffee.  From what Marta understood, Charlie was to be back on Saturday.  That would free me up some to go looking for Upton Shaw.  I had a score to settle with him.
    “Let me go over this one more time,” I said referring to the gunfight.  “Keim and another cowpoke from the ranch were comin’ out of Solly’s store when Shaw fired from over in the park.”
    “I didn’t see it, but I heard the shots and ran out of my office,” stated Doc.  “I saw Keim holding his side and the cowhand by the name of MacLean holding his arm.  My attention went to Shaw who fired another shot hitting Keim, knocking him down.  That’s when Mateo came running from around the corner hollering for Shaw to drop his gun.”
    “Was that when Mateo was shot?”
    “You got it.  Upon hearing Mateo, he turned to fire at him, hitting him in the leg.  Mateo fell, but was able to get off a shot hitting Shaw who then limped off into the park,” Doc informed me.
    “No one went after Shaw?” I asked, finally taking a sip of my coffee.
    Doc shook his head, “Mateo was down, Charlie was out of town, and you were on a train somewhere.”
    “You know Shaw was hit?” I questioned.
    “There was no doubt about it, but I don’t know how bad.  Since he was limping my guess it was in the leg or thigh.”
    I had heard this from Doc before, some from Molly and Marta as they stepped out from the diner after the first shots were fired.  When they saw Mateo fall they rushed to his aid.  The story was pretty much the same from Mateo, although he didn’t see the first shots fired.  Solly confirmed most of what Doc said as did others I’d talked with.
    “Where do you think Shaw went?” I asked Doc who had just requested a piece of pie.
    “When I catch up with him, he’ll have plenty of charges against him, and a long time in prison to contemplate his actions,” I responded.
    “Remember, vengeance is the Lord’s,” uttered Doc, cutting a piece of pie with his fork.  I looked at it–apricot.
    “Don’t worry, I don’t want to kill him, and I won’t unless absolutely necessary.  He is used to doing things his own way, going his own way, having freedom to move around.  My thinkin’ is that prison would be the greater punishment,” I replied.  Then I hollered, “Molly, I’ll take a piece of that pie.”