Come by the Tivoli in the morning, before it opens for business,” suggested Masterson.  “I think Soapy would like to talk with you.”
    I saw him looking up the street and he added, “You might want to cross the street and move along.  I think the new police chief will be looking for you.”
    There, moving briskly up the street toward the Tivoli was a uniformed man, seeming as if he was on a mission.  I took Bat’s advice and moved away.  I didn’t need to waste my time with this man.
    Instead of walking around town, seeing the changes that had come, I decided to go back to the Albany and eat there.  I knew that Merker was still around.  After eating I went up to my room.  Sitting on the bed I pulled off my boots then cleaned and reloaded my pistol.  Laying down I was trying to remember the name of the person that was with Merker when I first met him.  It finally came to me…Myers.  If I saw Gilford in the morning I would pass that along to him.  I didn’t know if Merker and Myers were still working together or not.
    I ate breakfast the next morning in the Albany.  One thing for sure, it may be a fancy hotel, with all of the curtains, fancy dishes, and silverware, but the food couldn’t compare to Anihu’s and Molly’s.  Then, on top of that the prices were triple.  Yep, that’s progress in the big city for you.
    Around 9:00 I ambled on down to the Tivoli.  The door was open and as I walked in I saw three swampers cleaning up the place.  Bat was sitting at a table and motioned me over to him.  “Let me take you in to see Mr. Smith,” he said then smiled.  “I would think he’s up by now.”
    We went to an upstairs office and Bat knocked on the door.  A smallish, bearded man opened the door.  “Come in Bat, come in,” he chirped.  “Ah, this is the man you told me about, Miles Forrest is it?  Come in, and sit down.”
    Bat took up introductions.  “Miles this is Soapy Smith, owner of the Tivoli and Eagle Bar,” he smiled and continued.  “Businessman extraordinaire.”
    I continued to stand there until Masterson took a chair.  Smith went behind a large desk so I sat on a chair next to Masterson.
    “I’ll come right to the point, Forrest.  I’m looking for men to help me in my enterprise.  I am wanting to own a few more saloons and billiard halls.  I’m also looking at venturing up to Creede, where there are sounds of gold and silver being found.  What I need is good men to protect my interests, and I’m offering you a position with me.”
    Looking at Bat, I found his face very passive.  Smith was energetic, but I sensed something was wrong.  “Legitimate enterprise?” I queried.
    Smith smiled, “Ah, so you heard how I gained my nickname.  Well, all I have to tell you is don’t believe everything you’ve heard or read in the newspapers.  You won’t be involved in the business, just in protecting the payroll.  If you walk through Denver visit the orphanage or the Presbyterian church.  They’ll tell you of how I’ve helped the city.  Wintertime, can be rough, I make sure that no one is out in the cold or starving.”
    The thought hit me.  “Mister Smith, do you know someone named Merker?  He’s the one who sent those men who shot at me.”
    I saw his jaw jerk a little and a glint flicker through his eyes.  “I know Merker,” he said with exasperation.  “He is out for himself.  He hasn’t bothered me yet, but I try to know when he’s in town.”
    “Would you know where he is?” I prodded.
    “Not right now, but I do know he is leaving.  Purchased a train ticket,” he said stroking his beard.  “I do have a little problem with some young hoodlums trying to barge in on my business–the Blonger brothers.  They think they’re up-an’-comers.”  He paused for a minute.  “Listen, Forrest, you go to work for me and I can help you with Merker.”
    I stood up.  “Mister Smith, I have to get back to Durango!  I’ll think over your proposition.”  Looking at Masterson, who had also stood.  “Bat, good to meet you.  Thanks for your help last night.”
    Hurrying back to the Albany to get my gear, and then to the livery for Star, then I headed to the station.  There was a train pulling out in thirty minutes.  I had time to get my ticket and Star boarded.  My thoughts were bothering me, “was Merker heading back to Durango?”
    A couple of hours after changing trains in La Junta, I lowered my head to catch a few winks.  I felt him approach.  Not lifting my head I said,  “I’m not sleepin’…”

I was walking just off the boardwalk toward the Tivoli Saloon.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man to my left level a gun at me and shoot.  I threw myself to the right and landed on the ground, then heard two more shots.  I drew my gun and fired at the man who shot at me, hitting him.
    He was trying to run away when I heard another shot and the man dropped.  Picking myself up, I grabbed my hat and walked toward the man who shot at me.  It was the one I had seen in Durango and also boarded the train.  Men were starting to gather around and turning I saw another man on the street.  He was the second man that had been in Durango.
    “Drop your gun and put your hand in the air,” came the order.  “You’re under arrest for murder.”
    The law in Denver was no stranger to me.  They tended to make decisions before they had the evidence.  I didn’t drop my gun, nor did I raise my hands.  Slowly I turned toward the voice.
    “Deputy U.S. Marshal; check my vest,” I said calmly.
    “He shot in self-defense,” came a voice from the Tivoli.  “I witnessed the whole thing.”
    “You stay out of this Masterson!” commanded the officer.  “I’m in charge here.”
    I heard a loud guffaw from a man as he was walking toward me.  “Put down your gun, Stimbard.”
    “I won’t tell you again.  Stay out of this Masterson!”
    “First of all, he didn’t kill the men.  I did.  Arrest me!” he challenged Stimbard the police officer.
    “I saw it!”
    “Then you’re blind,” Masterson stated.  “What kind of pistol are you carrying, Marshal?”
    “Smith and Wesson, Schofield, .45,” I replied.
    “Not only are you blind, you’re deaf as well,” snapped Masterson.  “I shot twice from my Colt.  You can’t even tell from the sound,” he paused then walked to Stimbard.  “I ought to slap you silly, but you’d not be any better off.  I bet you I can find witnesses that you were even in the vicinity when the shots were fired.”
    Turning to me he said, “Marshal, show him your badge.”
    I pulled my badge from my pocket and walked to the officer and Masterson.  “These men blew up the jail in Durango, attempted to kill a federal witness, and are involved in fraud against the United States government,” I said after I walked up to them with my badge in hand.  “If you want I can go back and get Agent Covney of the United States Secret Service and he can take you into custody for interfering with a federal case.”
    Masterson laughed out loud again.  “I told you that you were stupid, Stimbard,” he grabbed the policeman’s gun, empty the cylinder and handed it back.  “Not get along and rouse your drunks!”
    As he left, Masterson turned to me and held out his hand.  “Masterson, folks call me Bat,” he said smiling.  “Blew up a jail, did they?”
    “Heard of you.  Glad I could meet a real legend,” I said as I shook his hand when I noticed his eyes sharpen.  “No jest intended, I meant it.  I’m Miles Forrest.”
    His eyes returned to normal, “Used to work for Dave Cook? he asked.
    I nodded then I noticed that Covney had walked up.
    “Evening Gilford,” greeted Masteron.
    “Bat,” he replied cordially.  “What’s up Miles?”
    “We have just deprived this world of two pieces of scum.  These are the two men who followed me from Durango.  Can you help with the bodies?”
    “I’ll take care of them.  That means only Merker is out there,” stated Covney.
    “Unless he has gathered others…”

During the trip to Denver I walked through both cars a couple of times.  First, to see if Merker might be on board, and second to give my legs some exercise.  It was cold on the train, and my toes were feeling me I sat too long.  I went back to check on Star a couple of times.  I probably didn’t need to bring him, but felt better knowing that I had my horse with me.  Another time, a few years back, I would have rode him home, well, maybe not this time of year.
    I think I spotted the two men who boarded that I thought were suspicious.  Really don’t know why, just a feeling I had.  They were sitting together in the car in front of where I was sitting.  There was one other passenger car, but I couldn’t see them as they were private rooms.  Hard to believe that this was like a traveling hotel for some.
    The plan was to be in Denver only a couple of days.  I wanted to see Dave Cook for a little while and figured I could do it after my meeting with Covney.  Overall, it was a boring ride.  I wasn’t anxious to be heading to Denver and I was a mite anxious about the situation back in Durango.  However, the good Lord taught me a long time ago that most of the time my anxieties were for nought.  Most came to nothing, and were only magnified by my imagination.  Plus the fact that I couldn’t do anything about them.
    When the train pulled into the station I was met by McClure.  He said that Covney was in meetings and that he was to take me to the Albany Hotel.  I waited until they unloaded Star.  Tying him behind the carriage we went on downtown to the hotel.  It seemed like every time I came to Denver it had grown in size and in the number of people.  It was becoming crowded, and modern.
    “I can remember my first trip to Denver,” I said to McClure on the ride.  “I rode up from a little town called Redemption with Elias Butler.  We walked right into a riot of the Chinese faction in the city,” I paused, pulling at my moustache at my nostalgia.  McClure hadn’t said anything, but I had his interest.  “That’s when we met Dave Cook.  We helped him along putting down the riot.  After that I took off to work at a ranch in Gunnison and from there just wandered around a few years until I arrived in Durango.”
    “Last year, there was payback directed on the Chinese.  Several businesses were destroyed; fortunately only one person was killed,” he remarked nonchantly.  “There’s been no trouble since then; of course the Chinese don’t come to uptown Denver and the residents of Denver don’t often venture down to China Town.”
    Arriving at the Albany I made arrangements for Star to be put in the hotel’s stable and cared for.  Since the Service didn’t authorize my bringing him I had to pay the expenses.  I had to swallow deeply as I found out it was a dollar a day to board and keep a horse.  What is this world coming to with the high prices?  I didn’t bother to ask how much a room cost.
    As I walked into the hotel I was taken back by its luxury.  McClure secured my key for me as I was peering in the dining room.  I could have put two of the diners in there.  Looking at the furniture and eating tools I was afraid to enter and sit down as I was wearing my traveling clothes.  At least I wasn’t coming off the trail smelling like smoke and horse.
    McClure came to pick me up a couple hours later to see Covney.  I had cleaned up a little, well, put on a clean shirt.  I had brought one for this occasion.  We didn’t take a carriage, but walked a few blocks down toward the mint.  The Secret Service office was just off an annex of the mint.
    McClure took me to the office, knocked on a door, and left.  I waited, looking at pictures on the walls, and read a little about the place.  I didn’t know that this place, what I was calling a mint, was actually a place where they would hold gold and silver for distribution to Philadelphia and New Orleans.
    The door opened and Covney welcomed me in.  There was another man sitting behind a desk in the room.  “Miles,” began Covney, “this is Mister Wesler, head of the Trans-Mississippi Branch of the Secret Service.”
    He stood up to shake my hand.  He was about my height, with a little paunch.  He had a full beard and firm grip, but there was something about him I didn’t like.  Perhaps I felt that way toward all bureaucrats.
    “Good to meet you, Agent Forrest,” he said, his voice holding no meaning.  “Sit down, sit down.  First off, I want to tell you that we have Douster all tucked away in case we need his testimony in court.  Of course, we have to arrest Merker first.  Good job you did there.”
    He looked at Covney.  “Gilford here, has told me that you’ve been a real asset to the Service and going over your files I agree,” he coughed to clear his voice.  “That’s one reason we brought you here.  We’re promoting you and sending you to New Orleans,” he said with a large smile.
    I looked at him, then over at Covney.  “Don’t think so,” I simply said.
    Anger built up in his eyes.  “Listen Forrest, you work where I send you.  You are being reassigned to the New Orleans area.”
    Reaching inside my pocket I pulled out my credential and Secret Service badge.  “Thank you for the offer, but I decline,” I said as politely as possible.  Now I understood the feeling I felt toward the man earlier; arrogance abounded in the man.
    “What!  You can’t just quit!”
    “Seems I just did,” afternoon.  “Gilford,” I reached to shake his hand.  “If you’re ever in Durango, look me up.”  Then I got up and walked out.
    As I did I heard, “Why of all the impertinent…”
    It was too late to look up Cook, so I thought I’d take a walk around downtown Denver before going back to the hotel.  This city was a humdinger back when it started up.  I wasn’t here during the gold rush days, but it was a wicked, wild town.  I started down Larimer Street, when I noticed…

I went immediately to the telegraph office to send a message to Gilford Covney letting him know that if Lucas doesn’t show up I would not be on the train to Denver on Sunday.  Then I went over to a storeroom that Charlie was using for his office.
    “Charlie, I’m goin’ to start ridin’ on the north edge of town to the west,” I told him.
    “Good,” he replied.  “I’ll check through the town, then move to the south and work west as well.  We’ll find him, Miles, don’t fret.”
    I nodded then walked up to the cabin to get Star.  It had been a while since I worked him.  Glancing around I saw that he wasn’t in the pasture, so I went on up to the stable.  What I saw stopped me in my tracks and I just stood there with my hands on my hips.
    “Lucas!” I exclaimed.  “Your sister is worried sick over you!  Why are you up here?”
    He was currying Two-Bits and stopped to look at me.  “What do you mean, Senor Miles?  I have a job to do.”
    Walking up to him, I looked him over and saw that he had a bruise on the side of his face.  I reached out to touch it, and he balked and moved his face away from my touch.
    “How did you get this?” I questioned.
    He stuttered a little then said, “I fell.”
    “Well, if you can’t be honest with your boss and friend, then you’re fired.  Get your stuff and don’t come around my horses again,” I snapped.
    It shook him up and I thought he was going to cry.  I didn’t have time to play games with him; I needed answers.
    Sobbing, he went to gather his few materials that he worked the horses with.  I yelled at him, “Lucas!  Tell me what happened!”
    “I can’t,” he said trying to hold back the tears.  “They said…”
    “What?  What did they say?  Who?” I prodded.
    “The men…”
    “What men?  Tell me Lucas so I can help you.”
    “They said they would kill Marta.  I can’t tell you,” he stammered trying to gain control of his emotions.
    “How did you get the bruise?” I asked pushing him for information.  “The truth now.”
    “One of the men hit me.  They wanted to know if I knew where you were…where Mr. Douster was,” he calmly answered now back in control.  Then he added, “I’m sorry,” wiped his nose, “I’m not a cry-baby, but I have to take care of Marta.”
    Putting my hands on his shoulders I said, “We’ll all take care of Marta.  Come with me and we’ll see if Molly has some pie in the diner.”
    “I’m hired back,” he said hopefully.
    “We’ll talk about it over pie.”
    Charlie was in the diner as Lucas and I arrived.  There were a couple of miners sitting at a table, otherwise the diner was empty.  I told Lucas to have a seat while I went to get Marta and Molly and Lucas’ pie.
    “You go sit yourself down,” ordered Molly.  “I’ll bring the pie.”
    I poured coffee, then sat down along with Marta.  Presently Molly came out with three pieces of butterscotch pie.  Lucas exclaimed, “Butterscotch, my favorite.”
    Nudging him on the shoulder, I declared, “One of mine too.”
    Molly then took a seat and I began to tell them what Lucas had shared with me.  He would add to it from time to time, and when Charlie asked if anyone had mentioned any names, he blurted that one man called the well-dressed man, Merker.
    “Do they want me out of the way, or do they want to know where I’m going?” I asked.
    “Seems to me,” ventured Charlie, “they want the whereabouts of Douster.”
    Molly put her hand on mine.  “Miles, I think you should go to Denver.”
    Charlie then piped in, “Yeah, sorta let it be known that you’re leaving.  Maybe not saying it, but implying that you’re going to see Douster.  We’ll take care of Marta,” he said winking at Lucas.
    “I’ve already talked with Grizz.  He’ll be here Sunday and will stay at the diner.  We’ll be all right,” said Molly.
    When Sunday arrived I had Star boarded on the train and I went to kiss Molly goodbye.  There were two passenger cars and I watched carefully the passengers who boarded.  There were two men I had not seen before and that caused me to start pondering.
    “See you in a week,” I hollered as the train let out a loud sound and the train started moving…