It is better to say nothing than to promise something that you don’t follow through on.”  –Ecclesiastes 5:5 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     I saw the welcoming committee.  My eyes first caught Dawson standing with his back against the bar.  When I entered he straightened up.  There were two men sitting at a table in front of Dawson slightly over to his left.  To the left of them was a man standing, then over to the far right were two more.  It was not a good situation.  I breathed a prayer.

     “Come in, Marshal.  We’ve been waiting for you,” came the words from one of the men sitting at the table.  He was the only one that was semi-dressed up, all the others were wearing range clothes, light jackets or vests.  And Dawson…he wore a black vest with a red shirt with dark pants.  His thumbs were in this gunbelt and there was a smirk on his face.

     I was hoping that Martin would move in to my right, but he knew I was right handed so he chose to go to the left.  The Greener was in my left hand, not good.  I didn’t know if I could fire off a shot holding it only in my left hand.  I pulled back both hammers, just in case.  

     “Who do I have the privilege of talkin’ to?” I asked the man at the table.  My eyes moved from him back to Dawson.  I didn’t think that Dawson would make a move until the man was finished with his spiel.

     He didn’t look like he had the qualities that McGinnis possessed, but I reckoned he was trying to take over the gang.  

     “Mike O’Brien,” he snapped while giving me a smile.  “Fellow sitting beside me is called ‘Digger,’ and don’t worry about the others.”  He didn’t bother to mention Dawson.

     I liked the fact that he wanted to talk.  Now, if I knew what I was facing when I entered, knowing that they were waiting to do me harm, I wouldn’t bother with the talking.  I’d cut loose with the Greener and let it speak for me.  “Always nice to know, whom I’m buryin’,” I replied, then glanced at the others.  “Hope you boys have some identification on you.”

     When I said that, Dawson took a step forward.  O’Brian put up his hand; he wanted to talk some more.  I was doing some mental planning.  I’d take out Dawson first then concentrate on the table, and hoped that Martin was up to the job.

     “Sure glad to know your name.  I’m sure that after the trial on Monday, I’ll be back up here to arrest you.”

     Slamming his hand on the table, O’Brian shouted, “McGinnis won’t make it to trial, and you’ll never make it back to Durango.”  He jumped to his feet, knocking the chair over and fired a pistol he had been holding.  That’s opened up the game.

     I felt the bullet hit me, and it caused me to raise the Greener up.  Firing, I blasted O’Brian and Digger who were still sitting at the table.  I was able to hold on to the shotgun, and one thing about buckshot you don’t have to aim.  I could hear other shots being fired, but my eyes went to Dawson who had drawn his gun.  He fired first at Martin.  That gave me time to draw my pistol and fire two quick shots at him, both hitting him square in the breastbone.  He fell back against the bar, his gun going off again but the bullet hit the ceiling.  My eyes went to the right.  I fired, hitting one man in the neck, the other shot at me, but ran out to the back.  

     A sound came from my left, a man was on the floor trying to raise his gun to shoot at me.  I fired, putting an end to his intentions.  That’s when I noticed that Deputy Martin was on the floor, his head in a pool of blood.  Glancing around at my opponents, I then dropped to check on Martin.  “He stood by me, so Lord help him,” I prayed kneeling to check on him.  He was still alive, but unconscious.  

     I raised my head to see if anyone was in the room that could fetch the doctor.  I saw a man peeking his head out from behind the bar.  He had been hiding there during the fight.  Standing, I cocked the pistol pointing it at him.  “Don’t shoot, I have nothing to do with them.”

     “They call me ‘Sparky.’  I own this place.”

     “Sparky, why don’t you run for Doc Minton.”

     He took off, and as he passed by me, I heard the sound of…

So when you make a promise to God, don’t delay in following through, for God takes no pleasure in fools.  Keep all the promises you make to him.”

–Ecclesiastes 5:4 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     I walked back to the cells.  “What’s that Mr. Smith?  I didn’t quite catch what you were sayin’.”

     “Marshal, I ain’t done nothing illegal.  You need to release me.”

     Pulling on the tip of my moustache, I leaned towards the man now standing at the bars.  “What is your connection with McGinnis?”

     “Honest, I came up from Los Lunas representing the Circle M.  I ride for Jesse Moreland.  Yuh can send a telegram, he’ll vouch for me.”

     “Hmmm, tell me more, Mr. Smith.”

     “Marshal, honest to goodness, that’s my name.  This hyar McGinnis met with my boss in Albuquerque ’bout bringin’ come beeves up here.  The way I heard it that a fortune could be made sellin’ to the miners.  I was sent to finalize the deal,” he finished with a deep sigh.

     If he was telling the truth, I almost felt sorry for him, and from his expressions I sorta tended to believe him.

     “Let me tell you, Smith.  I can’t turn you loose, that’s up to the Sheriff.  You’ll be comin’ with me to Durango, and you can tell your story to him and Judge Klaser.”

     He took another deep sigh, then went back to sit on the cot.  Nodding at me he dropped his head to his hands in resignation.

     I went back out to the office area.  “Osian, you got a deputy that could walk me through the town, I want to peer into Boyd’s Poolhall.”

     Martin quickly volunteered and in a few minutes we were walking up the street.

     “Is Boyd pullin’ the gang together?” I asked as we ambled on up the street.

     “I don’t think so,” replied Martin, then he added.  “He might be the thinking behind it, but he won’t go the distance to be the big boss.  In fact, I’m not sure if they have anyone in charge.  So far nothing has happened, no complaints from storeowners of being hassled.”

     Someone had to call for Dawson, I thought to myself.  Unless he had already been contacted by McGinnis.  With McGinnis in jail, and most likely hung, he might decide that there was no one around to pay his wages and leave.

     We were just down the street from the poolhall.  I checked my pistol, making sure it was ready and looked to see that the Greener was ready to go.  Then I turned to Martin.  “You prayed up?”

     “Huh?” he responded with a puzzled look on his face.

     “Are you right with the Lord in case you’re called to meet Him this day?  People in our line of business should always be ready to meet our Maker.”

     “Uh, well…”

     “Well, what?  It’s either yuh are or yuh ain’t.”

     “Tell you the truth Forrest, I never did much thinking about it.”

     I stopped there, a tobacco shop between us and the poolhall.  “Want to take time to make it right before we go in?”

     “You’re crazy, out here in the middle of the walk?”  

     “Gooda place as any,” I replied, then hesitated for a moment.  “There might be a bullet in there with your name on it.  The rider on the Pale Horse isn’t too particular ’bout who he brings to judgment.”

     I could tell he was pondering some.  Then he jerked his head, “Come on!”

     Opening the door there was a welcoming committee, I saw Dawson and then…

Just as being too busy gives you nightmares, being a fool makes you a blabbermouth.”  –Ecclesiastes 5:3 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     I waited for an explanation.  “Vess Dawson, what do you know of him?”

     Osian spoke up, “Nothing really.  There was a gunfight, no one was hurt bad.  There was a little disagreement when we threw them in jail overnight to simmer them down.  One mouthed off and said something about a Dawson showing up.”

     “No other problems then?” I questioned, tucking what he said in my mind.

     “Nothing we haven’t been able to handle,” he said, then a grin came on his face.  “Exceptin’ one fact, Lucius can’t make coffee fit to drink.”

     “Hogwash!” came the reply from the other part of the room.

     “That’s what I was telling the Marshal, here.  Your coffee tastes like hogwash.”

     Lucius walked up to where we were standing.  I was holding a cup in my hand and Lucius looked in it.  “Marshal,” he barked, directing his words to Osian, “when was the last time you tasted ‘hogwash’?”  Then he gave his attention to me, waiting for me to say something.

     “Hmmm, it does have a peculiar flavor to it…” 

     He wouldn’t let me finish but grunted, “Bah,” and went back to his corner.  It was good that there was a comradery building among the men.

     Osian, to be polite, held his cup toward Lucius, “Uh, deputy, would you mind filling up my cup?”  I just had to laugh, but Lucius was dutiful and brought the pot to fill up Osian’s cup.  He then looked at me.  “What do you think about this Dawson fellow?”

     I pulled on the tip of my moustache, pondering a moment before answering.  “Just keep an eye on him.  If he’s a gunman, leave him alone unless he breaks the law, then at least two of you go after him,” I paused, then added, “with Greeners.  None of you are gunmen.  Always try to have the firepower on your side.”

     “Makes sense,” he muttered.

     “McGinnis’ trial is Monday,” I informed them.  “Have you heard any talk about breakin’ him out?”

     Marshal Beavin and the two deputies shook their heads.  I then added, “Anyone steppin’ up to take his place?”

     “None so far, in fact it’s hard to tell how many of the gang is still in town.  Bill Martin, I think you met him, has been keeping a close eye on them.”

     “They still makin’ the Glass Slipper their home base?”

     It was Deputy Greer that answered, “They still go there, but it seems that they’ve moved down to Boyd’s Billiard Hall and Casino.”

     I pulled my moustache again and then smirked, “Oh, Sparky is still around?”  His birth name was Aloysius, but because of his manner of dress he was referred to as “Sparky”.  “I might just have to pay him a visit before headin’ back to Durango for the trial.”

     “How long you staying?” asked the marshal.

     “The plan is to leave tomorrow.  I just wanted to check on you and your men.  I have to be back for the trial,” I paused to look back toward the cells.  “You still have Smith back there?”

     Osian nodded, and a smile came to my lips.  “Lucius, tell Mr. Smith, I’ll be takin’ him to Durango to stand trial.  Make something up ’bout McGinnis plea bargainin’ or something like that.”

     Now all the deputies were smiling.  Lucius went back to the cells.  Within seconds there came a roar.  “Forrest, you out there?  Marshal, you can take me…”

And don’t make rash promises to God, for he is in heaven, and you are only here on earth.  So let your words be few.”  –Ecclesiastes 5:2 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     The man remained unconscious the remainder of the trip, except for a few moans that escaped him.  Because the conductor had wired ahead from the last water stop, Doctor Minton was there with some men and a wagon to take the man to his office.  We didn’t speak, I just gave him a brief nod.  The conductor had everyone leave from the other end of the train which caused a few people to curse and complain.  Guess they’re always be those around that any little thing will ruffle their feathers.  I watched Dawson step down from the car and was waiting for me.

     “They ought to make those illegal,” he growled, pointing down to my Greener.  “Or maybe just do away with those who carry them.”

     “You have a point to make?” came my reply a little sharply.

     I had noticed that his hand was on the grip of his pistol, so my thumb rested on the hammer of the shotgun.  He said something I didn’t hear then moved on down the platform while I watched them load the wounded man in the wagon.  “Doc, let me know,” I hollered, to which he gave a slight wave and drove off.

     In times past I would walk up and stop in at Wells Fargo.  I had spent many a day in that office when I worked for the company.  Drank coffee and chatted with the workers, but all the ones I knew are gone.  Either found different work or was transferred somewhere’s else.  I still couldn’t resist looking in the window as I passed by.  For good or bad that job gave me the chance to become a marshal.

     It was when I turned on Greene Street that I noticed I was being followed.  I walked a couple of blocks then turned back south on 14th Street, then quickly entered a store.  The man stopped, not seeing me on the street.  I watched from the window of the store I entered, some kind of ladies’ boutique shop.  The man was confused, looking up and down the street then looking at the signs above the shops.

     “Ahem,” came the high-toned sound.  I didn’t look from whence it came, just waved for it to be quiet.  

     “Don’t be brushing me off, Mister.  If I can be of help I would be glad to do so, if not I would kindly ask you to please leave the premises,” came a sort of squeaky-whining voice.

     The man came to the entrance and as he started to move beyond the store I stepped out behind him.  From the store, I heard, “Well, I never…”  The fellow I was behind must have heard it as well, for when he turned he saw two black holes of my Greener in his face.

     It sorta unnerved him, shotguns have that effect on people.  “Don’t say anything, just answer my questions.  If you understand, nod your head.”

     He nodded, causing me to smile.  “First of all, who are you?”

     “Jim Edwards, deputy marshal.”

     “Any proof?  Show me a badge.”

     Slowly he opened his vest where there was a badge hanging on his vest.  “Second question, why were you followin’ me?”

     “We heard there was an altercation of the train, a man shot.  Then I saw you an’ that other fellar talkin’.  So I started following you, whilst Deputy Greer followed the other man.”

     I lowered the Greener to his relief.  “Take me to Marshal Beavin.  Oh, and relax,” I said, extending my hand.  “I’m United States Deputy Marshal Miles Forrest.”

     “Marshal Forrest, I’m sure glad to see you.  Osian’s back at the jail.”

     Within minutes we arrived at the jail.  There was a deputy at the desk to the right with another back at a small table back by the cell area.  I recognized the latter, “Hiya, Lucius, see you’re still up and walkin.'”

     Beavin must have heard from his office.  “Marshal Forrest!” came his booming voice.  “Am I glad to see you.  Sit down, Martin, get the marshal some coffee.”  

     The man at the desk got up.  “Take my chair, Marshal.  Coffee’s comin’ right up.”

     He handed me the coffee and I took a sip.  It was hot and strong, but not too bad considering it had been sitting on the stove for a spell.  I took another sip looking over the rim at the four men.  “You’re all lookin’ healthy,” I said moving the cup from my mouth then wipin’ my moustache with the back of my hand.  “Any troubles?”

     “Mostly drunks and fist-fights, nothing serious,” came the quick reply from Deputy Martin.  

     I could sense there was something else.  “And?”

     “It seems that someone is trying to put McGinnis’ gang back together,” voiced the marshal.  “So far nothing to pin on them, just barroom talk.”

     “Do any of you know a Vess Dawson?”

     It became quiet, too quiet.  I took a deep swallow of the coffee, waiting.  “Uh, well, we’ve heard of him…”