I was running to the corner when I heard the .45 fire again.  Another shot quickly followed it, followed by the shot from the smaller caliber again.
     It only took me a moment to gather in the sight before me.  I saw Charlie, over in the park, behind a tree.  But what really drew my attention was McCall across the street from the diner.  He fired at Charlie then started walking toward the diner.  That made me hurry, which I didn’t want to do for being in that manner could cause my aim to be thrown off.  He had crossed and stepped onto the boardwalk. I slowed to a steady walk.
     Standing in front of the diner door, he glanced in my direction, then kicked in the door.  When he did that I fired.  My bullet hit him in the side turning him.  He pulled himself straight, pointed his gun through the doorway.  I shot again, and at the same time came a shot from inside.  My bullet knocked him back and down, the smaller caliber bullet then hitting him in the face.
     By the time I reached him, the light in his eyes was fading.  There was movement to my left; I turned quickly finding Doc running to the downed man.
     “Hey!  You in the diner,” he yelled.  “Hold your fire!”
     As I approached the dying McCall with Doc leaning over him I asked, “Why?  What were you thinkin’, John?”
     I could hear gurgling sounds coming from his ruptured lungs where my second bullet hit.  He turned his eyes up to meet mine.  “Money,” he whispered, then I could see he was gone.
     “Lord, help him,” I softly prayed, but I knew that if he had not made things right with God before he drew that last breath it was too late.
     Turning toward the kicked in door, I hollered, “Molly, I’m comin’ in.”
     Ten paces from the doorway, Molly was just getting up from behind an overturned table.  She was holding her pistol in her hand and I could see the rush of the event was quickly wearing off.  I reached out, taking the pistol from her and drew her to me. 
     She buried her head in my chest as I inquired, “You okay?”  She didn’t say anything, only nodded in my embrace.  I looked around noticing that there were dishes on a few tables.  “Anyone hurt?”
     Pulling her head back, she murmured, “I don’t think so.  Marta was getting them out through the kitchen.”
     I could hear men out front picking up the body to take it down to Parker’s.  Doc came in and upon seeing me holding Molly asked, “She all right?”  Then he quickly added, “Sit her down, so I can examine her.”
     He went to a table to pull out a chair.  Molly sat down, but would not release my arm.  “Doc, I’m all right,” she stated.
     “Want some coffee?” I inquired. 
     She nodded.  “Let Marta get it,” she said, grasping my arm tighter.
     Marta moved to the coffeepot while Doc took a seat next to Molly continuing to observe her features.
     “Miles, I don’t understand.  Why would a person like McCall stoop so low as to do something like this?  He had a good reputation as a lawman, why would he change now?”
     “Reckon I don’t have a good answer for you.  A man without Christ is capable of anything.  You know that as well as I do.  Why a good man goes to the bad, well, he just follows his evil nature,” I responded.
     Her hand was trembling as she picked the cup off the table.  She started to take a sip, but her hand began to shake spilling coffee.  The hot coffee fell on her hand, bringing her back to the present.  Doc quickly reached out taking the cup from her.
     She looked at Doc then up at me.  Our eyes briefly met then she began to sob.  “I killed a man.”
     I knelt down in front of her, taking up both of her hands in mine.  “Molly, look at me,” I calmly ordered.  “You were protecting yourself, and besides, it was my bullet that killed him.”
     “Still…” she said with remorse, then straightening up, sobering and stated, “I had to defend myself.”
     “I fully understand,” I replied, then looked up to see…

Take him to jail, Sheriff,” I said motioning toward Olson.  
    “Os, get out some paper and write exactly what you saw and heard,” I ordered Oswald Dierker the bartender at Olson’s saloon.  “I want it dated, and signed.  Sheriff, before you take off with Olson I want you to read what Os wrote, then sign it.”
    I turned my attention back to McCall who was now standing.  “McCall, I don’t understand you.  I even vouched for you to the city council.”
    His face turned into a snarl, and he lashed out.  “Forrest, you’ll pay for this.”  He dropped his hand lower toward the butt of his gun.  I stepped on his hand and it sounded as if I broke a bone, but it would have been in his little finger.  Painful, a little, would it keep him from handling a gun, slightly maybe.
    “Go ahead, give it a try,” I challenged him.
    “I’m faster than you, Forrest!” he asserted.
    “Your call, I’m waitin’.”
    Quickly he placed both hands on the table.  He must have figured there was just enough damage and pain to slow him down and he didn’t figure on eating some of my lead.
    “I’ll be back for you,” I informed him then picked up the Greener, took the two shells from my vest pockets and loaded it.  
    Walking out of the saloon I turned to my left starting up the street toward Foster’s mercantile.  There was always a pleasant atmosphere in his store, largely due to his daughter who kept the shelves straight and stocked.  When I walked in she was standing on a little ladder dusting shelves.
    “Hello, Darnelle, your father around?” I asked.
    “Why, Marshal Forrest, I haven’t seen you in several weeks.  Where have you been keeping yourself?  And yes, he is in the backroom.  Daddy!  You’ve a visitor!”  She stepped down from the ladder and stood behind the counter busying herself straightened out jars filled with different kinds of candies.
    She always made me grin.  “Been chasing badmen down in New Mexico.  Bad deal,” I informed her.
    Fear ran across her face for a moment.  “You didn’t get hurt?”
    Shaking my head, “No’m, but two U.S. Marshals were seriously wounded.  The Lord kept His hand on me.”
    “Why, Miles, welcome.  I didn’t know you were back.  What can I do for you?” inquired Wilson Foster.
    “Mister Foster,” I began.  I always liked him and his wife, a good man, but at times he was sort of weak-kneed.  “Has McCall asked you for money for his protection?”
    He started blinking his eyes rapidly then looked down.  “Uh, why Miles, whatever do you mean?”
    “Wilson, don’t play games with me!  If you’re hidin’ somethin’ I’ll find it out!  Now answer me!”
    I glanced at Darnelle; her eyes were wide.  “Daddy, tell him!” she snapped.
    My stare went back to Foster.  “I’m waitin’.”
    “Uh, well, he called it ‘insurance,'” responded Foster.  “It’s just twenty-five dollars a month.  No real big deal.”
    I wanted to slap him silly.  “It’s called extortion!  An officer of the law doesn’t protect you for money; it’s part of his sworn duty.”
    Upon receiving the information I was needing I turned to walk out tipping my hat, “Darnelle.”
    Going across the street to John Newsome’s shop I hoped he wouldn’t be as mealy-mouthed as Foster.  He was over at a counter rearranging some of the ladies’ wear.  This was a shop that I wanted to be out of quickly and so I go right to the point and he answered me the same.
    I stopped to see Rufus, owner of the Broken Drum, and he was quick to answer my question.  The charge for him was to be thirty-five dollars since he was competition with Olson.  I liked Rufus, didn’t care much for his occupation, but he was an honest man.
    One more stop, I didn’t have to go to every store, but I wanted a fair sampling.  On down the street, back toward the diner next to the telegraph office was Solly Vendor’s cigar store.  The same story, McCall was planning on making a tidy some from these businesses.  I had enough evidence to arrest McCall so I headed back up toward Olson’s saloon.
    McCall wasn’t there.  Looking at Os, he just opened his hands shrugging his shoulders.  As I started to walk out I heard the shot of a small caliber pistol, then the boom of a .45…

It was good to finally be back home.  It was past midnight when the train pulled into the station due to delays along the way.  I was hoping it would be in on time for I was aching to see Molly and it would have been nice for her to greet me at the station.  It was very disappointing when I arrived at the cabin to find that she was not there.  I began to think all sorts of thoughts, then looked by the coffeepot and seeing a note picked it up.
    “Staying with Marta, will explain when I see you.”
    The next morning I rushed down to the restaurant.  Bursting through the door, I startled Marta making her jump.  “Senor Miles!  Don’t do that!” then she called down coming to me.  “It’s sure good to have you back.”
    Then the voice I was longing to hear sounded from the kitchen.  “Miles.”  We hurried toward each other meeting in about the center of the eating area.  She threw herself in my arms.  Lifting her I twirled her around a couple of times before letting her down.
    After giving her a kiss, I smiled and asked, “Did you happen to make a pie for my homecomin’?”
    “I have so much to tell you, and all you can ask for is pie.  Let’s go sit,” she admonished.
    Heading for the table, I checked the pot sitting on the stove.  Cold.  I looked over at Molly with a frown.  What I received for my efforts was the shaking of her head, but then a smile crossed her face.  “Marta, will you bring some coffee and pie out, please?”
    Molly was giving me the once over.  Her eyes moving over my body.  “You look tired,” she finally said.  “No injuries?”
    My hand went to the back of my neck.  “Just a little singe, but nothing else,” I responded.
    She pulled my collar back to examine the crease the bullet had made which was already scabbing over.  “Oh, Miles, another inch,” she stated and left it at that.
    I shrugged, “Molly, we’ve been through all of this.”
    A grim look came across her face, then she took a sip of coffee and put those thoughts behind it.  “Is Marshal Blasco all right?”
    “He’ll be fine,” I replied then proceeded to tell her about what happened in Raton.  
    She was shaking her head.  “So much evil out there,” she replied in almost a whisper.  She put her hand on my arm.  “I’m glad there are good men like you to counter it.”
    Marta came by with a coffee refill.  “Have you told him about McCall?”
    Looking over at Molly, I asked, “What about McCall?”
    She was hesitant in answering, so Marta piped up.  “Go ahead, tell him!”
    “Tell me what?  Molly?”
    “It seems as if our wondrous town marshal has started an extortion racket.  He wanted twenty-five dollars a month for insurance payment,” she informed me then dropped her head.
    I was getting ready to ask her more when Charlie Gold stepped through the doorway.  He walked to the table, reached out his hand to shake mine.
    “What’s this I hear about McCall?” I asked looking at him then back at Molly.
    Marta was getting flustered.  “Go ahead, Molly.  Tell him the rest.”
    She lifted her eyes to meet mine.  “I pulled a gun on him.  Miles, I would have shot him.”
    “What?  Why?” I stammered.
    “He said he would take my payment in kisses.”
    “Charlie!”
    He threw up his hands.  “Honest, Miles, I didn’t know until last night.”
    I stood up, grabbed the Greener.  “Let’s go!”  Charlie fell in behind me as we headed up the street.  “Where might he be?”
    “Most likely Olson’s saloon.  It’s sort of like his second office.”
    “Back me, Charlie,” I ordered, then stopped before entering to take the shells out of the shotgun.  
    Entering the saloon, I saw the bartender behind the bar, then Olson sitting at a back table with another man which I presumed was McCall.  As I started for them Olson almost fell trying to get out of his chair.
    “Extortion is against the law, McCall,” I stated.  “So you’re under arrest.”
    “And you are?” he inquired moving his hand toward his gun.  I cocked the Greener.
    “Deputy U.S. Marshal Miles Forrest,” I barked.  “Let’s go.”
    A smirk appeared on his face which made me want to slap the barrel of the Greener across it.  “That’s not a federal offense, why don’t you allow the sheriff to handle it?” he asked, then the smirk widened.  “Oh, Forrest, don’t believe every thing your wife tells you.”
    “I requested permission from Sheriff Gold to personally take you in.”
    The smirk turned into a sneer.  “Big man with a cocked 12-gauge.”
    Releasing the hammer I threw it to Olson then kicked the table as hard as I could.  The table slid catching McCall in the chest flipping over and causing him to fall over backward.  Rushing to him, I stepped on his hand as it was reaching to pull his pistol hearing the bones crack.
    Then came the sound, two hammers being pulled back on the Greener. I recognized it easily having heard it enough…

McCall watched Marta scurry past and out the door.  A smile came to his lip as he started walking toward Molly.  “Twenty-five dollars a month, but I’ll negotiate.  This month’s free for a kiss.”
    Molly was undisturbed pulling her pistol from her pocket.  “My husband will kill you, if I don’t do it first.”
    He glanced down, saw the pistol and stopped.  “You haven’t got the nerve,” he snapped.
    “Brave enough to try me, McCall?”
    “I could have you arrested for threatening an officer of the law,” he muttered glancing again at the pistol she was holding.
    Molly now smiled, “Come arrest me then.  Dare to die.”
    A snarl appeared on McCall’s face.  “One day, Mrs. snippity Miles Forrest, I’ll make sure you get yours!”
    “McCall, if you are smart, you’ll leave town before my husband returns.  If not, it will be too late,” suggested Molly.
    “Bah!” he exclaimed, turned and walked out the door, just as Sheriff Gold and Marta returned.
    “Whew,” came the sound from Molly as she sat down.  
    Gold looked at her then out the door where he passed McCall.  “What is it?” he asked coming to the table.
    Molly was trembling when he approached her.  Looking up she smiled, “Oh, nothing much Charlie, just extortion and harassment.”
    Charlie sat down as Molly began to tell the story.

                                           * * * *

    The rifle fell first, skittering down alongside the rocks, followed by a body which landed with a hard thud on the ground not far from me.  Then I heard the sound of hooves as a horse was approaching from the other side of the rocks.  
    “Blasco!”
    He sat there, tall in the saddle, but I could see pain etched in his face.  As he came closer I could see blood on his pants, the wound had opened up.  “Yuh know, if you keep tearin’ those stitches apart you’re goin’ to get blood poisonin’,” I remarked.
    “That’s all you have to say?  Not even, ‘thank you very much for saving my life’,” came his response.
    I moved closer to him, looking at the wound.  “It was gettin’ a mite touchy there,” I said then looked up at him.  “Need help gettin’ down?”
    He kind of stiffened, a jolt of pain must have gone through him.  “No, I think I better stay mounted.  Go check on Martin, I ride on over to check on Abrams and the other man.  I think I see him moving.”
    Approaching Martin, I could see plenty of blood.  Kneeling down I found him still breathing, but barely.  He had been shot in the side and high on the chest.  He needed a doctor, but how to get him to one was the problem.  I took off his kerchief and began to attempt to stop the blood flow on his chest.  I found that the bullet had passed through, so there were two holes to patch.  I glanced at the wound in the side, and though bloody I didn’t think it as serious as the other wound.
    I took a brief look at Blasco as he was riding toward me then went back to my work.  “That shotgun blast did a work on Abrams.  He would be hard to identify if I didn’t already know who he was.  The other man might make it, unless one of those pieces of lead move around hitting a vital spot,” he stated then looked at Martin.  “Still alive?  Tough ol’ cuss.  You finish patching him, then get that other hombre up on a horse and I’ll start back to town.  We’ll come out later for the other two bodies.”
    “Martin needs a doctor,” I uttered.
    Blasco sighed, then suggested, “Make a travois and bring him to town.  I should have made it in by then and will send someone out to help. Forrest, you’re a praying man, it might be the time for a few prayers…”