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…”
 

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…