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…

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.”