The next morning I was packed and at the train station with a ticket to Pueblo.  The weather was dreary with a drizzle of rain making it colder than normal.  I had the Greener is my left hand and small grip in the other.
    Molly held me by the arm.  “Do you think this will bring an end to this?” she asked.
    “I’m tired of you, my friends, and myself bein’ a target.  The Lord’s had his hand on us so far, but, well, I’m tired of being a target.  It’s time to put some pressure on Myers; hopefully he will lead me to Merker.”
    We stood there, communicating without speaking.  “I wish you’d come with me,” I remarked.
    “Now, Miles, we’ve been over this.  Marta is starting work today and is beginning to remember things.  I need to be with her,” she paused, squeezing my arm.  “Charlie is here, and I’m staying at their house until you get back.  Lucas will take care of the horses.  He’s excited since you told him to ride one each day.”
    “But what if Merker shows up here?” I remarked.
    “Quit second-guessing yourself.  If he does, he does.  We’ll deal with it.  Tell you what, send me a telegram when you get to Pueblo that way I know where to answer you.  I’ll send you one at the end of each day,” she informed me.  “By rail you can get back in a few hours.”
    The whistle blew and the conductor made a walk along the platform.  “All aboard!” came his yell.
    It must have been funny seeing me hug Molly, having her wrapped up in my arms holding a shotgun and suitcase.  I gave her a kiss goodbye and headed off toward the car.  The conductor nodded at me as I stood on the first step of the car.  Molly stood there and waved, then I moved on into the car.
    I moved on down to the far end, noting everyone seated in the car as I moved down the aisle.  I sat with my back to the engine, that way I could see anyone entering the car and also all of the people seated there.
    There were several passengers.  One young lady, sitting a couple of rows back and across from me seemed fidgety.  Finally, she spoke up.  “Mister, must you carry that dreadful thing?”
    I kind of looked around.  “What thing would that be, ma’am?” I replied.
    “That, that gun,” she said pointing.
    “Why, ma’am, this is a genuine W.W. Greener, 12-gauge coach gun.  Guaranteed to stop bandits, desperadoes, thieves, murderers and the like,” I said with a smile.
    “That’s horrid!” she exclaimed.
    “Yes, ma’am, that’s what it’s supposed to do, strike fear into the hearts of anyone that looks into the business end of the barrel.”
    She shuddered and turned toward the window.  The conductor came and sat across from me.  “Business trip, Marshal?” he asked.
    “Well, I’m not out for pleasure,” I stated then nodded my head to where the stove used to be.  “Sure miss havin’ a stove with coffee brewin’ on it.”
    He smiled, “that’s the way of progress.”  He stood up and began moving down the aisle, checking tickets.  I pulled my hat down over my eyes and leaned back in the seat.  Thoughts began to mill in my brain like cattle on the trail.  Stirring and spinning around and around, nothing making sense, there was no clarity.
    “Lord,” I whispered, “You need to give me direction.  Show me what to do.  Tell me where to go and stay.”  I sighed, “and keep Your hand wrapped around Molly.”
    I must have dozed off, which bothered me some, but someone was shaking my shoulder, it was the conductor.  “Marshal, wake up.  We’re taking on water and will be here several minutes.  I know in the work-shack there’s coffee.  Boys wouldn’t mind sharing with you.”
    It was a good chance to stretch my legs.  When I passed the woman who said I bothered her she gave me a look.  My, with that look she didn’t need a shotgun.  There was something sinister about her expression.
    I was about to take the step off the train when I had a gut-feeling saying, “Don’t.”  I usually listen to those “feelings” for I figure it might be the Holy Spirit telling me something.  Instead of getting off I stood on the steps of the car until the train started to move.  The fresh air had invigorated me and just before I turned to go back inside I saw two men walk out of the work-shack with guns in their hands.  They stared in my direction and one then spat on the ground.
    Moving back inside I found the conductor.  “Does this train happen to have a dinin’ car?” I asked.
    “So happens it does,” he replied, then added.  “No coffee in the shack?”
    “Business to attend to,” I said.  “Missed the opportunity.”  I left him and walked through the next passenger car and found a dining car.  I wasn’t hungry, but I did want a cup of coffee.  Sitting down by a window I looked out and sipped my coffee wondering what had just happened.
    “Does Myers know I’m comin’?” I wondered.  “Maybe Merker…”

I went on over to the telegraph office, and gave the messages to Stan Offut telling him to send any replies to me over to the diner with one of the boys.  As I stepped out, I hesitated, and decided to go next door.  As I walked in I got the usual greeting from Solly Vendor.
    “What is it this time, Miles?  Cigars or do you want a plug?” Vendor asked.
    “Right now Solly, some information,” I replied.  “Do you remember the fancy-dressed guy, I think his name was Merker?  Has he been in lately?”
    He took a couple of puffs on his cigar and then blew the smoke in my direction, gave a little cough and smiled.  “Sure, I remember him.  Good customer when he was around,” he paused to take another puff, then continued.  “He hasn’t been around recently; last time was probably close to two weeks ago, maybe three.”
    “You and he ever talk?  What’s your take on him?” I asked.
    He puffed some more then came from behind the counter and sat down in one of the chairs he has in his store.  “Just general chit-chat,” he said.  “You’re right about one thing, he dressed well.  I think he thought of himself as one of those fancy dudes from back east; the type that sit on committees or boards,” he coughed some more.  “On the other hand, he looked as if at one time he was a barroom ruffian, surely able to take care of himself if the need be.”
    “Thanks, Solly,” I said as I started to walk out.
    “Miles, I don’t think he likes you,” he said, this time blowing smoke away from me.  “He muttered something once, about ‘that guy Forrest; ruined a good thing.’  Then he seemed to catch himself and put the cigars he just purchased in his pocket, and walked out.”
    “If he comes in again, let me or Sheriff Gold know immediately, will yuh?”  Just before I walked out the door.  “Sol, you better stop that smoking.”
    He smiled, then coughed a couple of times, the smile now gone.  As he gave me a wave I walked out.
    It was a nice day.  It would have been a day, many years ago, that I would have saddled up and rode out up the canyon just to enjoy the breeze coming down from the high peaks.  Glancing up the street, I could see Johnson, lying on the boardwalk at the jail.  Then I turned back toward the diner.
    Walking in the crew was sitting around the table, laughing, and then I saw it–each of them had a piece of pie.  Walking toward them, they didn’t notice me, nor was there a place at the table for me.  Marta was sitting in my spot, in my chair, by the stove.  I took a chair at the next table.
    There were customers at two tables in the place and right after I came in one man got up to leave.  No one got up to clean off his table.  They were enjoying each other’s company.  Marta, at that time, seemed like her old self.  Glancing up I saw Anihu standing at the door of the kitchen with hands on hips and smiling.
    “Oh, hello Miles,” said Edith, finally someone saw I was there.
    Marta looked my way.  I could see her begin to get up so I gave her a big smile and nodded at her.  “Take it easy folks,” I muttered, “it’s just me.”  
    I stood then, going over to the shelf to pick up a cup.  Before I got to the stove, I reached down and squeezed Marta on the shoulder.  “Sure good to have you back.”  Then filled my cup with coffee.
    Peering over her shoulder, I made the comment, “What’s that you’re all eatin’?”
    “Nothing,” replied Charlie and I looked down and his plate was clean.
    “You all are disgustin’,” I remarked and went back to where I was sitting.
    Molly didn’t seem to want to leave Marta’s side, but she did turn and wave to Anihu, and hold her, now empty plate up.  Anihu smiled and went in the kitchen.  A few moments later she came out and waddled toward me, holding a plate with a piece of pie in it.
    Placing it in front of me she gave a slight curtsy and said, “For you, Senor Forrest.”
    “Sit down,” I said.  She hesitated, so I had to say it in a little more commanding tone.  “Sit down!”  Then I stood and went for another cup filling it and bringing it to her.  
    “Did you eat a piece?” I asked.
    “Si, in the cocina.”
    I was cutting my first piece of pie; it was chocolate, when in through the door came young Henry.  “Mister Offut said get this to your right away!”
    He handed me a telegram from the warden of the prison.  I reached in my little pouch that I kept in my vest pocket and flipped him a dime, and he was off, back out the door.
    “Myers released a month ago….Stop….reported headed to Pueblo.”

Well,” he said wiping his chin with his fingers, “do you think this jasper, Johnson knows Merker?”
    I scratched my head.  “Doc, I’ve been thinkin’ and ponderin’ then came back to thinkin’ again and I just don’t know.  The more I think the more I believe that he worked with Utley or Uttleman, or Smith, whoever the gunman was.  It was that guy who knew Merker.”
    As we sat there, Doc wiping his whiskered chin and me pulling at my moustache, we just sort of stared in our coffee cups.  There was a little left in my cup, I swirled it around a couple of times and swallowed it.  It made me grimace some as it had gotten cold.  I started to get up when Doc interrupted me.
    “Here, here, you sit there and frown and ponder some more.  Don’t be doing any of that thinking.  I’ll pour your cup full,”
he said as he went to the stove for the pot.
    He started pouring, when in the door walked Charlie with Judge Klaser.  Doc turned his attention to them and in that movement missed my cup with the coffee.
    “Hey!” I yelped.  “You need customers that badly that you’d scald a man?”
    Edith must have heard us from the kitchen for she came rushing out.  “What in heaven’s name!” she exclaimed.  She saw the spill on the table and went back for a rag.
    “Good thing you got some in my cup before you went to spillin’ the rest of it,” I muttered as Edith was back with a rag and wiped off the table.
    “Give me that pot!” She reached and took it from Doc’s hand.  “I’ll make some more.”
    She started for the kitchen and before she turned the corner.  “You sure you know how to make it?” I said raising my voice just a little.
    With that she turned and glared at me.  I put up my arm just in case she was going to throw the pot at me.  I looked over at Doc as he was pulling out his chair to sit down.
    “Doc, she like that often?” I said half-seriously.
    He looked around sheepishly the muttered, “Miles, you don’t know the half of it.”
    Charlie and the Judge were standing there watching our antics.  “Can we sit?” asked Judge Klaser.  “I sure wanted a cup of coffee.”
    “Now don’t you start,” I warned.  That brought a chuckle from him.
    The Judge started right off and looked at me.  “Miles, I can easily hold this fellow Johnson over for the federal court.  He’d probably get a couple of years,” he paused and looked toward the kitchen.  “Do you think he knows anything about your nemesis Merker?”
    Shrugging my shoulders I answered, “I really don’t know.  Perhaps he knows something, but maybe he doesn’t know Merker by name.  Listen…”
    Edith was bounding back, making her footsteps clomp on the wooden floor.  “Hello Judge, Sheriff Gold…” she poured them each a cup of the fresh coffee.  Looking at Doc first, then over at me she glared and barked, “Give me your cups!”  She filled each of them.  The coffee, was dark and steaming.  After she finished filling our cups she put it on the stove.  “See if that suits you,” she said somewhat softer and walked to the table next to ours and sat down.
    Doc and I looked at each other, then we looked at Charlie and the Judge.  They hadn’t tasted their coffee yet.  In silent agreement we all lifted our cups, took a sniff first, then a sip with a swallow.  None of us choked, gagged, or spit up so we all took another sip, this time a little deeper.  I glanced over at Edith and smiled.
    “Back to Merker,” said the Judge.
    I took one more full swallow and then said, “Turn him loose.  I’ll follow him around for a while.  See if he does anything suspicious.”
    Looking at Charlie I asked, “Did Uttleman have any money on him?”
    “Some, but not the amount we’ve been seeing on the others that have come for you.”
    “This guy’s been on my hide now for more’n a couple of years.  It’s high time I found him,” I stopped and pulled at my moustache.  “Hmmm.”
    “Hmmm, what?” asked Doc.
    “Perhaps I need to rattle the cage of the other man I met back in Pueblo–a Mister Myers,” I offered and finished my coffee.  “I’ll be back, I need to send out a couple of telegrams.  One to the warden in Canon City and the other to my friend Dave Cook in Denver.”  
    I got up and started for the door.  As I was exiting, I almost bumped into Marta.  Molly was bringing her in to see the surroundings.  I tipped my hat at Marta, “Marta,” and then to Molly.  “I’ll be right back.”

Molly said she was going to visit Marta then go on down to the diner.  Edith was the only one waiting tables and she was just helping out as a favor to Molly.  Doc didn’t mind, and he came over and ate his meals there which were given to him.  They only lived a block away so it was real handy.
    I reckoned that Charlie was down by the jail.  The town council was moving fairly slowly on getting the jail repaired or building a new one.  They were also needing a marshal, but were dilly-dallying around appointing one.  I could talk with Wilson Foster the head of the council and he would give my name to them.  Foster I knew well, and Newsome, but the third man to come on the council I saw only on occasion; fellow by the name of Martin Olson who owned one of the saloons in town.  I was surprised that Foster allowed Newsome to talk him into Olson.  Come next fall, with the elections, it might become quite interesting.
    Johnson was sprawled up against the front of the jail, chained to the hitching rail in front.  Charlie was able to use the office, as only the cell area has been destroyed and a back wall made of wood was temporarily thrown up.  I saw him coming out of the telegraph office and waved.  He pointed to the jail so I headed that direction to meet him.
    “Miles, just received a telegram about a Chester Uttleman who was wanted for murder, extortion, and just about anything else.  Seems like he worked between Denver and Chicago doing dirty work for anyone who paid him enough,” he paused after giving me that information.  “I think our Tom Smith/Utley is this Uttleman as the description fits.”
    He took off his hat to run his fingers through his hair and took a seat on the chair by the jail.  “The folk in Chicago are sending a photograph of him and it should arrive sometime the end of the week.”
    I leaned back against the hitching rail and pointed at his prisoner.  “What about him?”
    “Well, I reckon Mr. Tom Johnson is going to be spending quite a bit of time in prison,” he spoke loud enough where Johnson could hear him.  “He’ll be an old man by the time he gets out.”
    That perked up his attention for he bellowed out.  “I was just bein’ a witness.”
    “Yeah, and holding a gun on a sheriff,” Charlie countered and took off his hat to scratch above his ear.  “Plus obstruction of justice, plus abetting a criminal,” he stopped and looked over at Johnson.  “And did you know that Forrest here is a deputy U.S. Marshal, so those charges will also be on the federal level.”
    Looking over at Johnson I asked Charlie, “How does your prisoner like bein’ chained outside?  Not bad now, but come one of those gully-washers he might be gettin’ some wet.”
    I turned my attention to Johnson.  “You know what happened to the jail don’t you?”
    “Now why would I know?  I just arrived in town a few days back,” he snapped.
    “Go ahead Miles, tell him,” offered up Charlie.  “He may be no good, and a piece of scum, but he does have a right to know why he’s not in a cell, sleeping on one of those comfortable cots we used to have.”
    Stepping over toward Johnson, I placed my hands on my hips.  “It seems that folk workin’ for Merker tend to end up dead.  The man in the cell was killed on his orders.  They blew the place up,” I paused to pull on my moustache and looked at Charlie.  “You know Sheriff, it seems it would be easier to shoot a man who is layin’ out here on the boardwalk.”
    “Okay, okay,” he muttered.  “My name is Henry Thomas Johnson and I don’t know no Merker.”
    “Didn’t say yuh did,” I countered.
    He moved to sit up straighter causing his chains to rattle.  He was a ragged, disgusting sight.  I wasn’t concerned about his comfort, but I did wish there was a way to hide him from the public.
    “Sheriff, you’ve no right to keep me chained up out here,” he bellowed again.  “It’s cruel and unusual punishment.”
    Charlie got up from his chair, and walked over to him.  I could tell he had a notion to give Johnson a good kick, but instead he leaned over.  “Mister Johnson, do you have money for the fine?”
    He sort of brightened up with that.  “How much would it be?” he asked.
    “Twenty-five dollars, but that would only cover the local fine.  I can’t remove the federal law that is facing you.  That would be up to the district court judge,” replied Charlie.  “But he takes it serious when someone is shooting at a federal officer.”
    “I didn’t shoot him!” declared Johnson.  “I was only helping Ches.”
    “Interestin’,” I muttered.  “So you did know him?”
    Scowling he turned part way toward the wall.  “Leave me be,” he spat.
    I looked at Charlie and shrugged my shoulders.  “I’m goin’ on down to the diner to meet Molly.  She was goin’ over to see Marta and then was headin’ down there.  If Marta’s feelin’ like it, come on down and grab a bite to eat later,” I said, the looked down at Johnson.  “I’ll have a fresh pot on and we’ll do some jawin’…”