I took Mateo first to see Charlie.  “This is Sheriff Charlie Gold,” I said in introduction.  “He’s a fine man to have on your side.”
     Charlie stretched out his hand.  Mateo grasped it firmly, “You are married to Marta,” he stated.  “She is a cousin of mine.  I’ll be glad to work beside you.”
     “Right now we are sharin’ the sheriff’s office.  There are five cells back there, so we have to be careful of overload,” I informed him pointing toward the cells.  “I’m goin’ to walk him around town, sorta introduce him to the proprietors and folk.”
     They shook again, Charlie uttered, “I’m glad to be working with you.  If you have any questions–ask.”
     Walking out we headed up toward Foster’s.  Bert Winfield happened to be walking out as we neared the doorway.  “Bert, what are you doin’ in town?” I questioned.  “It’s not Saturday.”
     “Wife’s ailin’ some.  I came to see Doc Jones then stopped to buy Myrtle some tea.  Haven’t seen you in a spell, Miles.  I heard you had some trouble recently,” he replied with a little laugh.  “But that don’t seem to be anything new to you.”
     “It was a bad situation,” I stated then introduced him to Mateo.  “They made me marshal until the fall elections and even said I could have a deputy.  Bert, this here’s Mateo Ramirez, deputy marshal.”
     Bert glanced at him, then nodded stretching out his hand at the same time.  “Glad to meet you, son.  Be careful and good luck to you.”
     “Do you want Molly to come out to check on Myrtle?”  I asked.
     “Thanks, but no.  Doc Jones said he would ride out tomorrow,” came his response then headed toward his horse that was tied to the rail.
     When we entered I didn’t see Wilson, but his niece Darnelle was accepting a purchase from the widow Baxter.  I didn’t know her well.  I saw her most Sundays when I made it to church.  She played an accordion until recently; she said her hands were getting all crippled.  Mateo and I tipped out hats to Mrs. Baxter when she went by.
     “Hello, Miss Foster,” I announced, “I see you’re doin’ all the work.”
     “Oh, are we being formal now, Marshal Forrest?” laughed Darnelle. 
     “I want to introduce you to our new deputy marshal, Mateo Ramirez.”
     She smiled, causing her face to glow and reached out her hand.  “Glad to meet you,” then she turned solemn, but that didn’t stop her face from glowing.  “I’ll be praying for you.”
     As we were chatting Wilson came out from the backroom.  “What do you want, Forrest?” he asked gruffly.
     I don’t know what happened in our relationship.  He was always friendly in times past.  Maybe he just had his feathers ruffled too many times being on the wrong side.  He has that problem of taking a firm stance on a subject.
     “Uncle!  Is that any way to speak to Miles?  After all he’s done for you, for our family?” Darnelle scolded. 
     I could see him clench his jaws, but then relaxed.  “I’m sorry Miles.  Darnelle’s right; I’ve just been out of sorts the past few months.”
     “This is Mateo Ramirez,” bubbled Darnelle.  “He’s going to be Miles’ deputy.”
     Mateo reached out his hand.  “Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Foster.”
     There was some hesitation, but then he grasped Mateo’s hand in greeting.  “Son, I was, well, still am some reluctant to have a deputy marshal.  That being said, I wish you the best.”
     I clasped my hand down on Wilson’ shoulder.  “Why don’t you a drop by the diner, bring your wife, Elizabeth, along with Darnelle for supper.  I’ll pay.”
     That brought a smile to his face.  “I’ll do that.”  He reached out to shake Mateo’s hand as we were leaving.
     Stepping outside and into the street, Mateo asked, “What’s with him?”
     “I’m not quite sure,” I replied.  “He’s a good man, a moral man who loves his family and helps others.  It’s just seems that lately he’s been in a stew over somethin’.  Now let’s go see John Newsome.  He’s a wonder.”
     For some reason I always felt uncomfortable walking in Newsome’s Ladies’ Wear.  I noticed that Mateo hesitated outside.  I had to grab his arm to sorta nudge him in.  Newsome was working at a table holding some frilly things in his hands.
     “Uh, excuse me, Mr. Newsome,” I blathered.  “I want to introduce you to the city’s new deputy marshal.”
     He dropped the garment as if he had been burned, then looked at us.  “Well, good,” then looked at us gathering his composure.  “I’m glad you got someone to take care of that Mex element.”
     The thought flitted through my mind that I ought to thump him, but it passed rather quickly.  “Mister Newsome, this is Mateo Ramirez, deputy marshal of Durango,” I said emphasizing Durango.
     He sputtered some, I could see the red rising up from under his collar.  “Yes, of course.”
     “Glad to meet you, Mr. Newsome,” interjected Mateo reaching out his hand.
     Newsome glared, dropped his hand back to the ladies’ garments, but didn’t respond with a handshake.  “Yes, I suppose it was.  Now…” I could see him struggle to say the word, “gentlemen I have to get back to work.”
     We turned and walked out.  As we moved down the boardwalk to the next establishment, Mateo offered, “Well, you’re right, he’s a wonder.”

Martin Olson was duly convicted by his peers and was sentenced to ten years at the penitentiary in Canon City.  It was deemed best that a deputy from the prison would come and pick up the prisoner.  I made sure that I didn’t even be one of Olson’s escorts to the train depot; this was done by Sheriff Gold and the prison guard.
      I really held no animosity toward Olson.  He was an arrogant, bombastic person who was interested in money and lording himself over others.  After the trial, Judge Klaser had Foster and Newsome come to his chambers to swear me in as city marshal.  He had a contract written up stating my various duties and that I would serve until the first of January after the election of mayor and the city council.
      While Olson was being given his farewell I rode Star down to Mexican town to the home of Mateo Ramirez.  Mateo was a well-known figure in that barrio.  In an unofficial capacity he made sure that things were kept clean and stopped any major conflict between the inhabitants.  He was about my height, a wiry body that reminded me of a gristle for he was tough and knew how to work.  He had dark hair which complimented his ethnicity with a thick moustache that had no curl to it.  His eyes were deep set, deep brown, and seemed to sparkle when he smiled.  I wanted him for my deputy.
      Riding Star up to his humble adobe, his wife, Luciana, was out from sweeping off the small wooden landing in front.  I didn’t dismount, but tipped my hat, “Buenos dias, senora,” I called in my limited Spanish.  “Is Mateo at home?”
      “Si, Marshal Forrest, get down.  I will go get him.”
      While she went in her home, I dismounted standing there holding the reins.  Mateo appeared with Luciana behind him.  “Marshal!” he exclaimed, his eyes showing that sparkle.  “What brings you to our humble home?”
      “I have a proposition for you,” I responded. 
      Before I could answer, Luciana spoke up.  “Come in, you can talk over some fresh chili and tortillas.”
      “Well, I don’t want…” I glanced at Mateo and he gave me a look that I should accept.  “I would be delighted.”
      She gave me a smile that lit up her face.  “It would bring honor to our home.  The Marshal has never stopped here before.”
      I followed her in with Mateo right behind me.  She took me to a small, yet sturdy table.  “You men sit,” she commanded, “I will go get your food.”
      Within minutes she brought back bowls for myself and Mateo then returned with one for herself along with a pile of tortillas.  When she was seated she looked at Mateo nodding.
      “Senor, Marshal, will you bless our sharing?” he asked.
      I said a short, but hopefully meaningful prayer asking the Lord to bless the Ramirez family and the hands that prepared the food.  I almost forgot to have the Lord bless the food.  When I finished, Mateo said, “Amen,” and Luciana gave that big smile of hers again.
      “The boys will be sorry they missed you.  They are attending school,” she informed me.  They had two young boys, Alejo and Enrique.  I knew them some as they were often with Lucas.
      They both watched, waiting for me to take the first bite.  Lifting my spoon I dipped it into the chili that had been thickened with refried beans.  I figured it would be well-spiced and I wasn’t disappointed.  It was quite savory, and I figured it would have goat meat, but I was delighted to taste the elk.  After I smiled and nodded at them they began to eat.
      After the first few bites, Mateo spoke, “What is it that you would venture down to see me, Marshal?”
      I swallowed a bite of tortilla before replying.  “I have a proposition for you.  I’d like for you to be my deputy.”
I gave a shortened version of what had happened and that I was authorized to choose a deputy.
      Mateo kept eating, seemingly in thought.  Luciana stopped to look at me, then her husband.  I could tell she wanted to speak, but she held her peace waiting for him.
      Wiping his moustache with his fingers, he stated.  “I am very honored.  But I have one question before I give an answer.  What will the Anglos think?”
      “I was authorized to find the best man for the job.  My first thought went to you.  I really don’t care what they will think,” I paused then continued, “they will know that I back you.”
      He leaned back in his chair, pulling at both ends of his moustache.  I waited, and waited some more.  He looked at Luciana as if trying to read her mind.
      “When would I start?” he asked.
      “Whenever you’re ready.  The sooner the better.”
      “I will take the job,” he stated.  “Luciana, get the Marshal another bowl of chili.”
      “The pay will be $40 a month,” I informed him.
      Luciana had just picked up my bowl and I thought she was going to drop it with that news.  She looked surprised, then embarrassed then hurried off to the kitchen.  I really didn’t want another helping but I also didn’t want to refuse her.
      Mateo grinned widely, his eyes sparkling.  “That will keep us in plenty of frijoles.”
      “Don’t smile too big; you’ll earn every penny,” I stated.
      Luciana came back placing to bowl in front of me.  “He will wear a badge like yours?” she inquired reaching over to touch mine.
      “Not quite exactly like this one,” referring to my Deputy U.S. Marshal’s badge, “but one similar.”
      “I will start tomorrow,” he stated.
      “Meet at the diner at 7:00 in the mornin’,” I responded.  “Senora, muchas gracias.  It was delicious.”
 

Come on, Newsome, spit it out!”  I admonished him.  I wondered what Jewelene, his wife, saw in him.  I reckoned he was a good man, provided for her, but my mercy, he was about as solid as milquetoast.
    He looked as if he were about to choke with that tight collar he was wearing.  “Wilson and I were thinking, that maybe…”  He was interrupted by the approach of Judge Klaser coming through the doorway.
    Charlie saw him first, and raised his voice a little to get everyone’s attention.  “Pull up a chair for the Honorable Judge Vernon T. Klaser,” he said in a joking spirit.
    The judge glanced at Charlie, “Thank you, Sheriff.  Well, well, I’ve everybody here that I need to see.”
    As he was seating himself I got up to get him a cup of coffee and placed it in front of him on the table.  “Judge,” inquired Molly, “would you like a piece of pie?”
    “No, no thank you, Mrs. Forrest, but I could use a bit of honey for the coffee, if you don’t mind,” he gave in reply.
    Molly smiled, “Sure Judge.”  She started to get up, but Marta informed her that she would get it.
    I had refilled my cup, and was sipping at it waiting to hear what the Judge had to say.  Marta brought the honey and we all were watching to see how much of it he would use.  He poured a spoon full then put it in the coffee and began to stir.  After banging the spoon a couple of times against the top of the cup, he took a sip.
    “Miles, I’ve heard you arrested Martin Olson on attempted murder?” asked the Judge.
    “That’s…”  
    I didn’t get any further when Newsome blurted out, “That’s why Wilson and I are here.  We think Martin should be released.”
    Judge Klaser held up his hand to stop Newsome.  “Do you have evidence?”
    “I have an affidavit signed by Oswald Dierker, the witness of Sheriff Charlie Gold, and my personal word,” I stated in no uncertain terms.
    The Judge looked at Newsome, “Why in the world would you want Olson released with this evidence?”
    “Well, uh, we, that is, Wilson and I talked with Martin and he promised…”
    Charlie slammed his hand on the table.  “When did you see Olson?” he asked glaring at John Newsome.
    “We, well, uh, ah, we went in your office when you, ah, when Forrest was shooting at Marshal McCall,” he answered nervously.
    “Hold it right there, Mr. Newsome,” ordered the Judge.  “You are already getting into legal difficulties.  You are interfering with a federal investigation of an attempted murder of a U.S. Marshal, and now are hinting at taking possible bribes by listening to promises.”  He stopped then looked at the two men.  “Right now, you could easily be looking at two years in the penitentiary.
    Foster’s eyes got as wide as a silver dollar, and he turned pale.  I thought he was going to pass out. Newsome choked where Doc had to slap him on the back a few times.  It was quiet for several seconds.
    The Judge began to speak again.  “Durango will have its first full-fledged election next fall.  All three of the council seats will be open for election and for the first time there will be an election for mayor,” he paused there to look at Foster and Newsome.  “Either of you planning to run for the office of mayor?”
    They hadn’t quite gotten over their shock of going to prison so they just sort of stared at the Judge while he was talking.  “Here’s the plan I suggest we take.  Don’t worry, we’ll have a hearing to make it all legal.  I suggest that Miles, here should be appointed town marshal until the first of the year when the new mayor and council can determine whether to hire a new marshal,” he paused again to look at me.  “That is if Miles will take the job.”
    I pulled at my moustache, and couldn’t help myself, I grinned at Foster and Newsome.  “I will, but remember, my federal marshalin’ duties may take me away.”
    “A deputy to help,” uttered the Judge.
    “That would be a helpful bonus, but you’ll have to get the council to agree to pay one,” I stated.  “I do have someone in mind.”
    “Good!” exclaimed the Judge. “It’s settled then, unless you two gentlemen have something to say against it.”  He turned to look at Foster and Newsome.  
    “Now, one more thing.  We can wait for a couple of weeks for Judge Broomfield to come and try Olson in federal court or we can handle it this week.”
    Charlie spoke up.  “It would sure save the taxpayers some money if we went ahead with a trial.”
    Foster and Newsome just looked at each other.

Charlie was talking to one of them taking McCall’s body to Parker’s undertaking services, and was just entering the doorway.  Doc had already come in to sit with Molly and me.  Marta was busy cleaning up the tables where customers had been sitting before exiting the back door.  If they came back, she’d just give them a fresh plate.
     “Have a seat, Charlie, I’ll get you some coffee,” I said with a laugh.  “What were you doin’ hidin’ behind that tree?”
     “That’s because he’s not a fool like you!” exclaimed Doc.  “He has some sense!  What do you mean walking down a street with a man shooting at you?”
     Molly’s eyes widened the she remarked, “You did what?”
     I couldn’t figure out all the uproar.  “I just reckoned it was the straightest and fastest way to get to him,” came my response.
     “Hmpf,” grunted Doc.  “A good way to get yourself killed, is what it was.”
     “Well, I didn’t, and it all worked out,” I responded.  “Any pie to go with this coffee?”
     There was another “hmpf” from Doc, and Molly just gave a deep sigh looking at me with malice.  I turned my eyes upon her, “What?”  Her frown slowly turned into a small smile.
     “Marta, could you see if there’s some pie in the kitchen?” asked Molly.
     Charlie interrupted, “Hon, bring me a piece, too.”
     We sat there sipping our coffee in the silence that came suddenly.  We were thinking about what happened and what could have happened.  Thinking about how the good Lord takes care of us.
     “He said it was for the money,” I said breaking the short silence.  “I didn’t know the man, but I vouched for him.  Never heard anything bad said against him.”
     Marta was bringing our pie, holding it out for us to see.  “Chocolate and butterscotch,” she offered with a smile.  I reached for the butterscotch.
     “Sit with us Marta,” Molly requested.  “Pour her some coffee, will you please.”
     Getting up I reached for the pot filling a cup for her, then refilling everyone else’s.  “Are you all right, Marta?” I questioned.
     She nodded, the gave a small smile.  “Senor Miles, did I ever tell you that you live a very, shall I say, exciting and charmed life?”
     That made me smile, so I nudged Molly with my elbow.  “See, told you I was charmin’.”
     “Oh, brother,” grunted Doc, “you’re making me sick.”
     He started to get up then saw Foster and Newsome enter the diner.  “Don’t reckon they’re coming in to eat,” he declared, then turned back around in his chair.
     I sat there, pulling on my moustache, waiting to see who would speak first.  Both were good men, but followers.  Neither was bold, so I wondered who’d take the lead.  Doc welcomed them and offered them chairs. 
     “Let me get you some coffee,” I offered.
     “Nah, nah, we’ll only be a minute,” stated Newsome.
     They looked at each other.  “We heard you’ve arrested Martin Olson.  Is that correct?” inquired Foster.
     “That’s correct,” responded Charlie.  “He attempted to murder a federal marshal, my friend and hopefully yours.  Fortunately the shotgun wasn’t loaded or he wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
     They jerked their heads toward Charlie when he spoke, they looked at each other again.  “On top of that we have a signed affidavit.”
     “Is McCall dead?” inquired Newsome.
     “Yes,” started in Molly, “he…
     Interrupting her, I said, “I killed him as he was shooting indiscriminately in the diner bring several citizens into risk.”
     “So, it was in the line of duty?” asked Newsome.
     I glared at him, “What are you gettin’ at?”
     He pulled on the edge of his collar.  “I, uh, uh, we, were just…”