Before we continued she stopped and looked at me as if she wanted to say something.  She must have either changed her mind or looking at me, she couldn’t find the words she wanted to say.  I guess I can have that affect on some folk.  My side was burning some as we went up the hillside to our little cabin.
    I stopped for a moment to look at the horses out in the small pasture.  With all this modern way of traveling they sure don’t get the exercise like they used to.  I thought a while back about selling Star.  That was a horse that needed to get out and run, but I didn’t have the heart to get rid of him since he was a gift from Cook.
    “Quit your gawking,” she uttered, “and get on in the house.”
    It was dark inside so Molly proceeded to open the shutters of the two windows to give more light.  I sat down at the table and lit the lamp sitting there.  “You take that shirt off while I go get you a clean one,” she ordered.  “Just throw it on the floor.  I don’t think I can get all that blood out.”
    A minute or so later she came to the table.  I reached out for the shirt, but she wouldn’t hand it to me.  She stared in my eyes, then took her finger and poked at an old scar.  “One,” then she poked at another, “two.”
    She counted up to five, then muttered, “I know there are at least three more under that bandage,” then she sighed.  “I guess I should count my blessings.  They’re just scars and I still have you with me.  Some women aren’t that fortunate.”
    Looking at my eyes again, I saw concern.  She came to me and pulled my head to her and held me.  “Miles, Miles, what am I going to do with you?”
    Pulling my head away, I looked up at her, pulled at my moustache and smiled, “Just love me, I guess.”  This time I pulled her to me not worrying about the twinge in my side.  She sat on my lap as I held her tightly.
    “Molly, I’ve got to find Merker.”
    She was still, I could barely feel her breathing.  “I know,” she whispered.  “But he’s not the first person who’s come for you.  If not someone like Merker it will be some kid wanting a reputation.”
    “Maybe it’s high time I gave it up; went to ranchin’,” I said.  “There’s that range over on the Piedra that I’ve looked at a couple of times.  Good grazin’ land, especially good for horses.  Remember Lot Smith, he said to visit him sometime and I could get some mares from him.  Star would be a great breedin’ stallion…”
    She gave a little laugh.  “What?” I questioned.
    “Listen to you.  You sound like you have it all planned out, but I didn’t hear one earnest word in what you said.  You just flung out words,” she challenged, then hugged me again.  “No, Miles, you’re not cut out to be a rancher.  Oh, you’d be a good one, and you’d probably stick to it, for my sake, but you wouldn’t be fulfilled.  That’s not what the Lord has for you.”
    I recalled what ol’ Captain McNelly said to me once, “My calling is to be a minister of justice,” then I started to speak, “What doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly…”  
    “And to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God,” she finished out the verse from Micah.  Sighing she grabbed me tightly causin’ me to flinch.  Pulling away she smiled, “And maybe getting a few more holes in your body.”
    “Maybe I shouldn’t have turned down that job in New Orleans,” I muttered with some disdain in my voice.
    “No Miles, you were made for the mountains, not the swamps and bayous,” she assured me.  “I’m more comfortable with cougars and bears than alligators.  We’ll make out.”
    With the windows open, a fresh, cooling breeze flowed through our little cabin.  The light in the lamp even flickered a bit, but continued its steady glow.  She stood up and walked to the open doorway, the one that faced to the back.  We couldn’t see the high mountains that lay just in the distance, but we could see the small pasture, with the horses and the edge of the forest. 
    I went over to her.  “How ’bout we take a little vacation?” I paused then continued.  “We could go to Denver, or maybe even down to Texas or to Kansas City.”
    “Oh, Miles,” she whispered.  “I know you mean well,” then she gave a great sigh, and turned to face me.  “We have to see how Marta is going to do, and you have to find Merker.”
    Nodding at her I said, “In other words we have our duties and obligations to take care of and not to be worryin’ ’bout any vacation.”
    I was just about to give her a kiss when Tommy burst through the open front door.  “Marshal, the sheriff, he want to see you right now!”  He whirled to leave and then stopped.  
    I went over to the table to pick up my vest.  Reaching in the pocket I found a dime and flipped it to him.  “Tell Sheriff Gold, I’ll be there as soon as I put on a clean shirt.”
    He smiled running off down the hill.
    Looking at Molly I smiled and said, “Back to duties and obligations.  Oh, think you could clean up the vest, I noticed some blood on it?”

Smith, if that’s your name, you can’t win.  If you do happen to kill me, I’ll be up sittin’ on the porch of the mansion the Lord has made for me.  But when you’re lyin’ here in the street, well, you’ve lost everything–life and soul,” I said, staring him in the eyes.
    “Your crazy,” he hissed, moving his hand a little closer to his gun.
    “I hope you’re ready to die, because in the next few seconds one of my bullets is goin’ to burst into your heart, smashin’ it to smithereens,” I said with complete confidence.  “My time hasn’t come, but if you move your hand toward that gun, yours has.”
    Then I saw it, a question flickered through his eyes, they blinked.  Too late for him to think he drew–faster than me.  I took a step to my right, something I had learned as a Texas Ranger,  and drew. I felt the bullet tug on my side.  My gun came out smoothly and I fired, the bullet hitting him in the chest.  His eyes widened.  He tried to get off another shot, but my second bullet hit him high in the shoulder as he was falling.
    His eyes were open and he was looking at me in surprise.  I walked toward him, deliberately putting the gun in my holster letting him know that he was finished.  Standing over him, uttered, “Be a shame to die with no one knowin’ your right name.”
    The lips moved, he was trying to speak.  Finally, I heard him sputter, “I didn’t believe…Utley,” he moaned and the light went out of his eyes.
    I wasn’t aware of what took place when I fired at Smith or Utley, but I saw the other Tom laid out cold in the dirt.  Charlie, when the first shot was fired, swung around and hit Tom Johnson in the face and then again across the head with his gun.
    Molly rushed up and grabbed hold of me, then withdrew her hand.  “You’ve been shot!” she exclaimed looking at the blood on her hand where she had touched my side.
    “Nothing to worry about,” I replied.  It wasn’t the first time, but one never really gets used to someone trying to kill you.  It’s not just the physical pain, but there are strains on the soul.
    She put her head on my shoulder and looked up at me.  “Straight to the doctor with you,” she barked and tugged on my arm.
    “Okay, folks, the excitement’s over.  Go long ’bout your business,” I heard Charlie giving orders to the crowd.  Before I left with Molly I looked again at the man “Smith,” or maybe “Utley,” then over at Charlie.  He had volunteered a couple of men to carry the other Tom down to where the jail was.  “Just lay him on the boardwalk outside,” Charlie instructed them as they picked the man up.
    He looked my way and shrugged.  “I’ll be over to see you after I get this baggage taken care of.”
    Doc Jones was standing outside the diner and when he saw us walking toward his office he went and opened the door.  “Sit him down over there, Molly.  On the table.  Help get his shirt off,” he was giving orders right and left.  “How about the other man?  Are they bringing him over here?”
    “No Doc, he’s a job for Parker,” I replied.
    “Figured,” he muttered.  “All the way, Molly.  Pull that undershirt off as well.”
    I gave out a yelp as some of the blood had dried.  Molly just let out a giggle.
    Doc continued to give orders.  “There’s a pan over there and some water heating on the stove.  Go fetch some.”
    He turned to a table and grabbed a towel.  Molly was back and Doc dabbed the towel in the hot water and began to wipe at the blood.  “My goodness, Miles, there’s not even a hole,” he muttered then looked up at me and wiped his mouth.  “A nice little gouge, but no hole.  That bullet hit your ribs and went right back out the flesh.  Must have been the angle it hit you.  Let me look close and make sure there’s no cloth in there then clean you up.”
    “The Lord,” I asserted.
    “What?” muttered Doc.
    “Not a glancing blow, Doc.  It was the hand of the Lord that deflected it,” I paused gasping a little while he cleaned with some alcohol, probed and cleaned again.  “He was fast.  Fastest I’ve ever seen.”
    I gasped, as he pushed a little.  “Uh huh…think He let you have a cracked rib just to remember this little venture.”
    Molly was wide-eyed as he worked and then she saw me looking at her.  Picking up my shirt she held it out examining it.  “Miles, another ruined shirt,” she said with a heavy sigh.  I knew it was to cover how scared and nervous she was.  
    “Give it to me,” I commanded as Doc had just finished his work and was wrapping a bandage around me.  I began to put the shirt on.
    “Come back tomorrow so I can clean it again.”
    “Doc, tell Edith I’ll need her today,” she informed him then said to me.  “Come on, let’s go up to the cabin and get you a clean shirt.  That is if you have one that doesn’t have a hole in it.”
    We were about halfway there, when I stopped suddenly in the middle of the street and looked around.  “Molly,” I whispered.  “I heard it, a  cackling laughter, faint and echoing off to the distance valley.”
    She just looked at me before…

Half a block down there was a man laying in the street.  The fellow that just left the diner was standing there with his hands raised, but holding his gun.
    “Easy, mister,” cautioned Charlie as he came up behind the man.  “I want you to lower your right hand and then let the gun drop to the ground.”
    “Why don’t you just take it from me, Sheriff,” taunted the stranger.
    “If I have to, I will,” snapped Charlie in return.  “I’d rather do it this way.”
    There came a small laugh.  “Maybe I don’t,” he paused turning his head to look at Charlie.  “I don’t think you can take it.”
    “I think he can!” I interrupted their little conversation with the cock of the Greener.
    The man lowered his arm, then hesitated, but only momentarily.  He dropped the gun.  While I held the shotgun on the stranger, Charlie went and picked up his gun.
    A man rushed up, “Sheriff, I saw…”  
    “Not now,” Charlie ordered.  “Go stand by that hitching rail.  I’ll get to yuh.”
    “Let’s go to the jail,” commanded Charlie with a wave of his pistol.
    “I heard you don’t have a jail,” replied the stranger.  “Plus, Sheriff, it was self-defense.”
    “That has to be determined by a court.  I see a dead man, you shot him, I hold you while I check out the evidence,” Charlie reminded him.
    The man standing at the rail lifted his voice, “Sheriff, I saw the whole thing.”
    “Let’s go,” Charlie motioned to the stranger.
    The man didn’t waver.  He turned and pointed at me.  “Who’s going to examine the evidence?  That wannabe lawman holding the shotgun?”  Now looking at Charlie, “Take away that shotgun and he’s nothing.”
    “Sheriff!” came the voice again.  By now there were others gathering around.  “That man was goaded into a fight.”
    “Watch him, Miles,” Charlies requested then walked over to the man doing all the ranting.  The stranger turned to face me, smiled, and pointed at me.
    When Charlie reached the man standing at the hitching rail, the man began to tell what he saw, raising his voice so others around would be able to hear him.  “The man came out of that alley and pushed this man, Sheriff.  He cursed and said he had finally caught up with him and started to pull his gun.  This man defended himself.  You can’t hold a man for defending himself.”
    “What’s your name?” asked Charlie.
    “Me, uh, uh, Tom Johnson.”
    “Well, Tom Johnson.  Have you ever seen this man before?”
    There was a slight hesitation then he replied, “Not until a few minutes ago.”
    “You wait here!” commanded Charlie then turned and walked back to the stranger.  “You got a name?”
    “Sure,” he replied smiling, “everybody’s got a name.”
    “Want to give it to me?” returned Charlie.
    “Why Sheriff, I surely will if you ask a little more politely.  You don’t have to be rude just ’cause your friend over there is a sneaking coward.”
    Now this guy was beginning to annoy me.
    “Sir, would you mind giving me your name?” asked Charlie politely.  If I had asked him I would have thumped him alongside the head with the Greener.
    “Tom Smith,” he replied.
    Charlie was shaking his head and muttering, “Smith.”
    I wasn’t paying attention and by the time I had focused on what was happening it was too late.  The witness had come up behind Charlie and had a gun in his back.  “Sheriff, why don’t you give Mr. Smith back his gun so he can go on with his business here.”
    “Just what is his business?” 
    “Why, Sheriff,” came the answer from the stranger.  “I’m here to kill this person by the name of Miles Forrest,” he then put out his hand for his gun.  “That is if he’s man enough to put down that shotgun and face me.”
    “Go ahead Charlie,” I said and uncocked the shotgun and held it in my left hand.
    The stranger’s smile widened.  The witness jabbed his pistol in Charlie’s back.  “Do it, Sheriff!”
    “Give him the gun, Charlie.”
    The man’s hand went out for the gun.  Charlie was shaking his head “no.”  “This will be even.  I’ll put it in your holster.”
    That brought a laugh from the stranger.  He lifted his arm so Charlie could place the gun in the man’s holster.
    “Ready to die, Forrest?” laughed the stranger.
    Looking at him, the thought of the Pale Rider flitted through my mind.  “Some day, but not today.  Not from the likes of you.”
    He flexed his fingers, the laughter stopped…

Doc ambled over to us and sat down.  Molly got up to get him a cup of coffee.  “Thank you, Molly.  Are you going to need Edith for the lunch rush?” he asked.
    “I don’t think so, Doc.  Alana and I can handle it; Anihu will do the cooking,” replied Molly.
    “Charlie, tell Doc about Marta,” I piped in.  “Get his take on it.”
    He proceeded to tell him about Marta’s amnesia, what the doctor in Taos had said, and how she was acting.  I was only partly listening as I was watching the stranger as Alana approached the table to get his order.
    He was shaking his head “no,” and then pointed in our direction.  Then I heard him raise his voice, “Get her!”
    Doc was running his hand down his chin over and over pondering what Charlie had said.  “Charlie, did she know everyone at the wreck site?”
    Charlie was just forming an answer when Alana came to the table.  “Senora Molly, the man, he will not let me wait on him.  He says only you.  What is it that I should do?” asked Alana, very concerned.
    I started to say something, but Molly put her hand on my arm while she spoke to Alana.  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”  She got up and started over to his table.
    Now the three of us were watching and I could see a smirk begin to form on the man’s face.  He reached out and touched her hand and she immediately jerked it away.  She was shaking her head “no” to something he said, then he became agitated and bellowed, “Sit down, I said!”
    With that Molly pointed to the door and started to walk away.  The man kicked his chair over and stood up.  As he did I followed suit, only with the Greener in my hand.  I had cocked it as I stood up.  Molly saw my actions and veered off to her left so if something was to happen she wouldn’t be in the line of fire.
    For several tense seconds we stood looking at each other.  His smirk had changed to a snarl.  “Mister, I don’t take that from any woman!” he uttered venom spewing forth.  “They obey, or they get hurt!”
    “You touch her, or any of the ladies here and they will be the last ones you touch,” I threatened.
    “You’re scaring me plumb to death, mister,” he replied, never once looking at my shotgun, only my eyes.  
    I raised the barrel slightly and said, “There’s the door, get out!”
    He gave a wry grin.  “You going to throw me out?” he taunted.
    “I’ll carry you out.”
    “That would be murder,” he muttered, still with that smart-alec smile on his face.  He then looked over to where Molly was standing.  “Why don’t you have the other waitress come take my order?”
    Molly with grim features, replied to his remark.  “I don’t think so.  My husband has asked you to leave.  It would be good that you go, I don’t like to clean blood off the floor.”
    The tension was getting thicker.  He looked at Molly with the smirk he had when he first sat down.  “You’re husband?  He best be taking care he doesn’t rub a man the wrong way.”. He sneered, then kicked the chair that was knocked over and turned and started to walk out.  As he got to the doorway, he stopped and turned his head to look at Molly again.  “I’ll be seeing you.”  He pushed the door open and walked out.
    I waited, still standing in case he lingered by the windows or came back.  I could hear Molly slowly approaching off to my right.  After a minute, Charlie muttered, “Uncock that scattered gun will yuh, Miles?”
    With his admonition I uncocked the gun and sat down, putting it across my lap.  Molly reached for the coffeepot on the stove and filled her cup.  “Let me top yours off,” she said and began to fill our cups as well.
    After putting the pot back on the stove I noticed Alana standing there wringing her hands.  “It’s okay, Alana,” Molly assured her.  She turned her attention to me with a quizzical look on her face.
    Doc had taken a sip and then broke the silence.  “What was that all about?”
    “I have no idea.  He came in earlier, no trouble, but I didn’t feel right about him,” I informed him.  “As we were walking back from the depot he bumped into me, now this.”
    “Don’t feel right,” mumbled Doc.  “What do you mean, don’t feel right?”
    “Charlie knows, it’s something we get as lawmen; sort of a sixth sense.”
    “Humpf,” he grunted.  “Ever been wrong about a person?”
    “Rarely,” I allowed.  “Now repeat what you said about Marta before we were interrupted.”
    Doc started to speak but Molly beat him to it, “Merker?”
    Before I could answer, shots rang out.  We saw people scurrying about on the street and Charlie was already up and running out the door.  He was out the door, before I was out of my chair, then…