I moved off into the shadows that merged with the darkness to my right, then quickly hurried across the street silently praying for the Lord to be with me.  No more shots had been fired and I saw the sheriff move to see about Myers.  I began to edge slowly toward the alleyway, staying close to the building walls walking slowly and softly.  I was waiting for someone or something, maybe the boogerman to jump out from the alley and start shooting.  As quietly as possible I cocked the Greener.
    The building stopped and I was at the edge of the alley.  Slowly I peered around the corner into the darkness.  I thought I could see the outline of a barrel, but other than that–nothing.  I moved down the alley toward the barrel, the shotgun at the ready.  Stooping down by the barrel I felt around and my hand touched what I was searching for; a brass cartridge.  I couldn’t tell without light, but it felt like a Winchester 73.  
    Not ready to move for movement could give away my presence, I stayed behind the barrel for several minutes.  “Forrest,” came a harsh whisper from the entrance of the alley.
    “Here,” I replied softly.  “I’m comin’ back your way.”  I eased myself up, listening to my knee joints pop.  I stopped for a moment and thought, “that’s not happened before.”  What a thought when someone has just shot at you.
    When I came to the end of the alley, the sheriff was waiting for me.  “Myers is dead,” he stated matter-of-factly.  “I think he was the target.”
    I couldn’t see his face as we were still in the darkness.  We started walking slowly back toward where Myers, Hawkens, and Lula were sitting.  “Maybe,” I answered, “but I think the first shot was for me.”
    “I’m taking Mr. Hawkens and his wife, Lula, up to see Doc Perkins,” he informed me.
    Stopping in the middle of the street I looked over at the sheriff, the light from the saloon was now shining on his face.  “Wife?  Lula is Hawkens wife?”  I heard a grunt and we started walking again.
    “Mister Hawkens, I sincerely apologize for thumpin’ you on the head.  I didn’t know who you were, but I knew Myers and I needed to get you out of the way–for safe keepin’,” I said as sincerely as possible.
    “You should still be arrested for assault or attempted murder for something!” came the voice that was becoming ever more annoying.
    “Ma’am,” interrupted the sheriff, “we should get your husband to the doctor.”
    I looked at Myers slumped in the bench.  A few minutes ago, lifeblood was flowing through his veins, now it was pooled on the boardwalk.  Death, eerie when it is next to you and the light flashing from the saloon on his face depicted a grin.  I had seen it before, many times–the Devil’s Grin.
    There was no use staying here; I decided to go back to the hotel and ponder the situation lying on the bed in my room.  As I walked in the clerk piped up, “Are you Marshal Forrest?” he inquired.
    I walked to the counter.  “I am.”
    He reached out and handed me a telegram.  “This just came for you.  Sam, from the telegraph office said it was urgent.”
    Opening it I read, “Miles Forrest–Liberty Hotel–STOP–come home immediately–STOP–Anihu dead”  signed Molly.
    “When’s the first train out?” I asked.
    “Going west?” he questioned and I nodded.  “Not until 9:00 in the morning.”
    “Can I get a ticket now,” and it was his turn to nod.  As I turned to leave I saw the glimpse of a man rushing out in front of me and heard his boots thundering on the boardwalk.  I rushed to the door and looked out, but no one was in sight.  I decided to wait until morning to get my ticket.
    The next morning as I was heading for the train station, I stopped by to see the sheriff.  I was informed by a cranky deputy that he wasn’t in.  “Tell him an emergency called me away,” I said and hurried off.
    The train was on time…

Are you botherin’ that lady?” slurred a man, half sober.
    “Go your way, mister,” I responded then I resigned myself to what would be coming.
    The man went for the gun on his hip.  He had to try a couple of times as he couldn’t find the butt of the gun.  “Yuh cayn’t be orderin’ me ’round,” he said as his hand finally found his gun.
    I swung the Greener, the barrel of it catching his hand, most likely cracking a couple of bones.  He let out a yelp, then started to cussing.  Well, I couldn’t abide that with Lula around so I thumped him along side the head with the barrel.  The man slumped to the ground.
    The crowd was gathering and one who saw his buddy on the ground snapped out a command, “Drop that there shotgun!”
    I turned to face the crowd that was coming out of the saloon and instead of dropping the Greener, I lifted it and cocked both barrels.  That got their attention real quick like.
    Looking over the crowd they were not in a particular hurry to rush at me.  I saw the man I was looking for.  “Mister, are you sober enough to find the sheriff?” I asked him.  He nodded.  “Then scat!  Get him over here!”  Off he bounded up the street.  Pueblo was a large enough town to have a sheriff and a couple of deputies.  I wanted one of them down here in case this situation began to escalate.
    Glancing back at the bench I saw Lula caressing the head of Hawkens.  Myers was sitting down on the bench on the opposite side of Lula.  Quickly I brought my attention back to the crowd.  They were just standing there staring at the twin barrels of my shotgun.  There was no real tension, but some idiot might decide to try something stupid; they are just that way.
    “Why don’t you all go back inside?” I asked.  “I’m a Deputy United States Marshal and I’m runnin’ an investigation.  I surely would not want to arrest any of you for interrin’.”
    They began to grumble when a voice called out from the darkened street.  “Break it up, break it up!” came the order.  There was more grumbling but the men began to shuffle back to the saloon.
    “Now, Mister, drop that shotgun!” he commanded.
    I didn’t drop it, but I did lower the hammers.  “Sheriff, I’m….”
    “Arrest him, Sheriff!” screamed Lula.  “He tried to kill Thornton and then molest me!”
    “Sheriff, I’m Marshal Forrest.”
    “What are you waiting for?  Arrest him!” she shrieked again.
    The sheriff looked over to the three seated on the bench.  “Lady be quiet for a minute,” he ordered then turned his attention back to me.  “Miles Forrest, from Durango?”
    “That’s right,” I replied, lowering the Greener and holding it in one hand while I reached for my badge and credentials with the other.
    The sheriff holstered his pistol.  “I received a telegram from Dave Cook saying that you would be arriving in Pueblo and for me to give you my assistance,” he paused to look at the three.  “Would you mind explaining what this is all about?”
    “It’s a long story, Sheriff.  I’ll give you the jest of what happened here.  Myers, he’s the one sitting on the right of the bench just got out of prison.  Several years ago, he and Lewis Merker tried were involved in a scam.  Myers, here, was caught and since that time Merker has been tryin’ to kill me,” I said pausing to let that sink in.  
    Myers started to speak but I turned and lifted the Greener, and he quieted down.  “This other man, Thornton Hawkens just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.  I know nothin’ about him except for what Myers said about him wantin’ to purchase mine stock.”
    “And the woman?” questioned the Sheriff.
    “I have no clue.  She seems to have connection with Hawkens,” I replied.
    “Okay, I’ll take him on up to the doc’s.  Is there any reason for me to jail this Myers fellow?” he asked.
    Sighing I said, “Technically no.”
    “Swing by the office in the morning and we’ll discuss this some more,” said the sheriff and stepped toward the three.
    I turned and took a step and accidentally bumped the sheriff.  When we collided a shot was fired, the bullet hitting the brick wall above the three showering them with pieces of brick.  A second shot and I heard the bullet hit flesh, then a scream.  Both the sheriff and I dropped low to the ground and looked off into the darkness.  All that could be seen was the outline of buildings.
    “Must have come from that alley over there,” muttered the sheriff.
    “Well, we’re sittin’ ducks over here.  I’m goin’ over to take a look,” I stated and began to move.
    As I moved off into the darkness…
————————-
Today in the Texas Revolution:  The Mexican army at the Alamo formally surrender to Juan Seguin.

It was someone that I had never seen before.  I shoved the Greener in Myers stomach to get his undivided attention.  “Who is he?” I asked.
    He snickered as he answered.  “He’s a man you don’t want to trifle with.  That’s Thornton Hewell Hawkens.”
    “Thornton Hewell Hawkens,” I thought.  “Who in the world is that?”  
    “Listen Myers, if he is someone important, why in the world is he handing out with you?  Most people don’t want anything to do with jailbirds,” I paused for a second as a groan came from the unconscious man.  “Help me get him up on that bench.”
    I pulled the shotgun out of Myers brisket and he stooped down to help pull Thornton Hewell Hawkens up on the bench in front of the saloon.  He was coming out of his sleep as he put a hand up to where I thumped him.
    “Just who is this Thornton fellow?” I asked.
    That brought a snort from Myers.  “Why, he’s one of the richest men in California.  In California circles his bank rivals that of Sam Brannan and Wells Fargo.”
    “And he is with you, why?” I further questioned.
    He huffed a bit and then started to explain.  “I know people here in Colorado.  He’s interested in becoming a stockholder in some of the mining operations.”
    “Does he know why you were in prison?”
    “He does,” he remarked sharply.  “He also knows that the charges were fraudulent, that I was charged because of my connection with Billington and his daughter, not because of any wrong-doing on my part.”
    I eyed him over, then stood up, lifting the Greener a bit which caught his attention.  “Is that so?” I answered.  “What about your connection with Merker?”
    He snorted out a laugh.  “I know nothing of what Merker has been up to.  I haven’t seen him since before I went to prison, nor have I heard from him,” then he laughed again.  “I hear that he’s been giving you a fuss.”
    “That’s what I want to stop.  Has he contacted you since you’ve been out of prison?” I asked.
    “Told you,” he snapped.  “I haven’t seen him since I went to prison,” he hesitated, “nor do I care to!”
    “How about since you’ve been out?”
    There came a groan, and a muffled voice from Hawkens, “Merker?  Where…”
    “Sssh, sssh, you rest easy,” ordered Myers.  “This is Marshal Forrest and he was just asking me some questions.”
    He looked up and fell forward onto the boardwalk.  A hollow thud sounded as he head hit the wooden planks.  Then I heard a woman’s shriek.  “Murder! Someone get the sheriff.  There’s been a murder!”
    I looked up into the scornful face of the woman on the train.  “Did you kill him with that dreadful gun?”
    “Get him back on the bench,” I ordered Myers.  “I need to shut this woman up.”
    “You going to thump her with that shotgun?” he snorted and began to pick up Hawkens.
    “Ma’am,” I said reaching out to grab her arm.  
    “Help!” she screamed.  “Help!  I’m being molested!  Help!”
    I surely wanted to thump her alongside the head.  Maybe it would knock some of the silliness out of her, but figured that it wouldn’t serve any purpose except to quiet her.
    “Lula?” came a quiet voice.  “Lula, what’s all the commotion?”
    “Oh Thornton,” she squealed.  “I thought you were dead.  I thought that dreadful man shot you.”
    The only thing that came to my mind was the name, “Lula?”  When we were surrounded by half-drunk men coming out of the saloon.  All I could do was sigh…
————————
Today in the Texas Revolution:  Lead elements of the Mexican army arrive at San Patricio.

I spent the rest of the trip puzzled by what had happened.  The woman across from me continued to scowl anytime our eyes would make contact.  For some reason she just didn’t approve of me.  I wonder if she realized the toil and pain that pioneers have always gone through to make it safe for those that followed.
    Why are those men waiting for me at the shack?  If so, how did they know I would be on the train?  The conductor, someone working for the railroad back in Durango, possibly Merker himself.  That bothered me, if it was Merker, that meant he was back in Durango.  Molly was there, my friends were there.  I whispered a little prayer, for I believed that prayer transcended boundaries.
    It was late when we pulled into the station in Pueblo.  I went down to the hotel to secure a room and found that there were only three left, all on the fourth floor.  The clerk gave me my key and I trudged up the stairs to the room.  He told me that there were some saloons down the street that served food.  Opening my room, I was not impressed.  There was a bed and vanity with a bowl and water pitcher on it.  I placed my grip on the chair in front of the vanity and went back out to grab a bite to eat.  As I was going down the stairs, the woman from the train was coming up.  I received my scowl and watched her go to what I imagined was her room.
    I had been in Pueblo several times.  For the most part it was a dirty little town, growing from the fact that there were coal mines in the vicinity.  Land to the east was fairly good ranchland, though dry during the summer.  One thing that I hated about being a lawman was that I often had to spend my time in these types of dives.  Wicked men sought the presence of other wickedness, so to find them, go to where they tarry.
    Looking in the first one, I decided that it was too dark.  I didn’t like to be in a dark room among people I didn’t know must less trust.  Up and across the street there was one with music playing and seemed to be well lit.  Pushing the swinging doors aside I walked in, and by habit took a step to one side.  I brought the Greener up and held it in both hands as my eyes became more accustomed to the room and I could take in the atmosphere.  People were busy gambling and drinking.  I went to the bar.
    The bartender came over, “Can I help you?” he asked pleasantly enough.
    “Hungry.  Do you serve food in this place?”
    “Sure, I can rustle up a steak,” that made him laugh like he spoke a funny joke.  “Or I can get you some stew or chili.”
    “Chili verde?” I asked, my mouth already watering.
    “This is Pueblo, is there any other kind?” he replied like I asked a foolish question.
    It went through my mind that he needed a thump alongside the head, but it went away quickly when I realized all of the different sort of folk he had to constantly deal with.  “Chili, I’ll be at that table back there.”
    “Want a bottle?” he questioned.  “We have almost any brand you can think of.”
    “Just coffee,” I muttered.
    That brought another ripple of laughter.  “Well, that’s one I sure don’t carry.”
    I glared at him, making him duck his head.  “I’ll bring some coffee.”
    Walking back to an open table I had to maneuver between chairs.  One obstinate person just sat there, not moving his chair so I could get by.  I tapped him on the shoulder with the Greener and he then willingly obliged.
    There were three bartenders working and the one that I talked to brought me a little pot of coffee and a large bowl of chili almost heaping over the side.  I was hungry, so after taking one sip of coffee, I started spooning the delicious spicy chili into my mouth.
    I was almost finished when I saw two well-dressed men wearing suits and derby hats walk out of a room upstairs and head down to the main floor.  My attention went straight to them.  One was Myers, could the other be…Merker?  They walked through the room and out the door.  I didn’t get a good glimpse of the other man, so I didn’t know if it was Merker or not.  Quickly I got up, searched for some money to pay my bill, and hurried out.
    The men were moving up the street on the boardwalk, away from the saloon and hotel.  I hurried to them, I was anxious.  They turned at the same time and I swung the Greener, catching the man I didn’t recognize alongside the head; he dropped to the ground.  Myers, started to yell, but I took the Greener in both hands and pinned him up against the wooden wall of a building.
    I pressed it up against his throat.  “Remember me, Myers?” I barked in a low yet firm voice.  
    He gritted his teeth and spluttered, “Forrest.”
    “How did you get out of prison?” I asked, pressing the shotgun firmer against him.
    He grunted, “Good behavior, and, and friends in high places.”
    I released him, then poked him in the stomach with the barrel.  “Don’t move or this gun will make a mess of you.”  I leaned down to get a view of the man’s face that was lying there in the dirt.
    Turning his head, I looked in anticipation.  It was…