And on a cold night, two under the same blanket can gain warmth from each other.  But how can one be warm alone?”  –Ecclesiastes 4:11 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     “Miles, we can’t leave Silverton without a marshal,” he paused, looking towards the front office.  “Lucius is an all right jailer, but he can’t handle the likes of Silverton,” he paused again, then added, “so far no one has been able to.”

      I looked out to the office, Tanner was gone to fetch breakfast for the prisoners.  He had calmed down quite a bit unless he had to come feed McGinnis or our guest, Mr. Smith.  “Worst comes to worst, I can stay here if you think you’re able to get McGinnis down to Durango.”

     Charlie had only been sitting up for a couple of days, and McGinnis began yesterday.  Smith would be the problem.  “I could stay until McGinnis is tried and hung an’ keep Smith here with me.  Then after the hangin’ you could come back and I’ll take Smith to Durango.  That way at least one of us would be in town.”

     “Marshal, I ain’t gonna hang!  You wait and see!” yelled McGinnis from his cell.  “Where’s my food, I’m hungry!”

     Doc Minton had been in and said that the prisoner was capable of traveling by train or wagon, and that Charlie should be able to handle the ride as well.  If McGinnis was chained to a seat, Charlie could rest.  Doc said he was coming along fine considering all the blood he lost.

     “Charlie, what say we take our situation upstairs to the One who has the answer for us?”  He nodded and we said a prayer there for God’s guidance and help in needing a marshal for Silverton.

     “Hey!  What’s that you’re doing?” Praying?  You best be doing plenty of that, you’ll need it!” McGinnis scoffed.  “I’ll be spitting on your corpses before long.”  

     I didn’t pay any attention to McGinnis, but he had the ability to grate on my nerves some.  However, I noticed that Smith took notice of what we were doing, leaning forward, attempting to listen.  “You guys really believe that stuff?” he asked in a sincere tone.

     Standing I went across the aisle to stand by Smith’s cell.  “The Lord’s the only hope we have in this life, and for sure the only hope we have for eternity,” I paused looking over at McGinnis where seemed to be carrying a perpetual sneer.  Turning back, I continued speaking to Smith.  “Life is short, shorter than others for some, and it is a comfort knowin’ that the Lord is on your side.”

     While in the midst of my talk with Smith, I heard pounding on the office door.  It was too early for Tanner to return.  I quickly drew my pistol then headed for the door.  Peeking through the shades on the window I saw that it was Osain Beavin, the miner who was in the way of Kid Malloy’s bullet.  Without holstering my gun I unlocked the door inviting Beavin inside then stepped out looking up and down the street.  Up on the corner I saw a man standing that gave rise to suspicion, but I decided to ignore him.

     After locking the door, I put my gun away and turned to Beavin.  “What can I do for you, Mr. Beavin?” I inquired observing that his arm was in a sling.

     He gave a half-smile, then said, “Goin’ down tah Durango with yuh.”

     A thought rushed through my mind.  “How’s the arm?”

     “Doc said I could take the sling off today or tomorrow.  It’s some sore, and I have to be careful movin’ it too quick, but it’ll be alright,” he hesitated, then smiled continuing.  “Ol’ Heinie at the “Iowa” said if I couldn’t sling a hammer he had no need for me.  I will give him credit, he did say that when the arm was better to come see him, there may be an opening.  Well, Marshal, I’ve got to eat between now and then.”

     For some reason, I blurted, “Have you ever considered bein’ a marshal?”  His eyes widened, and he started to speak but no words came.  “You know the people, you know Silverton, and,” I looked at him, “you’re tough.”

     “Well, now, I…”

     Charlie heard me talking and came walking from the cell area.  He nodded at Beavin.  “So you’re our new marshal…glad to have you aboard…”

     “I let them take me!” he cried.  “Just like a greenhorn, I let them take me.”  He moaned, grabbing for his badge.

     As soon as his hand touched it, I thrust mine forward to hold it against his and the badge.  “Don’t,” I commanded, “let it there for a moment.  Feel the heart beat under the badge.  That’s Charlie Gold, Sheriff.  That’s who you are Charlie, and at this point in time that’s where the Lord wants you.  Feel the beatin’.”

     His eyes caught mine and I could see them watering up.  “Charlie, you couldn’t have stopped it.  There were too many and they were waitin’ for you.”  I removed my hand when he took a big sigh.  

     “You did it,” he murmured.  “You put them away.”

     “I had the surprise effect on my side.  Plus the Lord wasn’t ready to call me home yet.  He still has some rough edges He wants to work off of me.  And while I’m a preachifyin’ I’ll tell you this.  He knew what was happenin’ and for some reason He allowed it.  Now it’s up to you to sort through all of that and try to come up with some kind of conclusion.  Why did He leave you alive?  I’ll tell you, Sheriff, you’ve still got work to do!”

     I looked over in the cell where McGinnis was lying unconscious, then glanced at John Smith who was on his side facing the wall.  I couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or ignoring our conversation.  “Tanner!” I hollered.  “You have any coffee made?”

     There was some kind of comment from the outer office that I couldn’t make out.  “Tanner!”

     He poked his head in the doorway, “I’m makin’ some now Marshal.  It’ll be ready soon.”

     Turning my attention back to Charlie I asked, “You hungry?”

     He shook his head, which I didn’t pay any attention to.  “I am.  Sure wish I had a piece of Molly’s pie.  It wouldn’t make any difference what kind.”  That got a little chuckle from Charlie.  “An’ I reckon you’d like Marta to serve you a piece.”

     “I could eat a piece of pie,” he muttered.

     “You rest, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  I got up and went out where Tanner was busy with the coffeepot. 

     “Any place close to get something to eat?”

     Tanner said there was a greasy kitchen across the street.  That usually appeals to my gizzard.  He said he’d have the coffee ready by the time I got back.  I needed to send a telegram to Molly, but that would have to wait until the morning.  I’m sure Marta wanted to know something about Charlie as he hasn’t contacted her in a couple of days.  I ordered up three bowls of chili, one for Tanner and one for Charlie in case he changed his mind about eating.  

     When I came back Tanner looked grateful.  He seemed the sort that lived on grease.  The chili wasn’t bad, somewhat on the hot side, but that was all right.  I enjoyed the peppers that the cook used, but I wasn’t too sure as to what kind of meat was in it and I knew better from past experiences not to ask.  The eatery was kind enough to let me take three small buckets of food out as I assured them I would bring them back in the morning.

     Charlie at least tried to eat a few bites, but then handed me the bucket telling me that he was tired.  I knew he needed his rest, and when Tanner asked if he could have the rest of Charlie’s chili I handed it over to him thinking that Charlie wouldn’t eat cold chili.  I’d get breakfast down at the hotel where I usually stayed when I went out to send the telegram in the morning.

     The rest of the night, Tanner slept in the only open cell, while I leaned back in the chair propping my feet on the desk.  I pulled my Bible from my saddlebags reading one of my favorite chapters from Psalms, that being 91.  After reading it quietly to myself, I thanked the Lord for His protection from my enemies and that no harm befell me in the performance of my duties.  It wasn’t arrows flying at me, but there was plenty of lead.

Two people can accomplish more than twice as much as one; they get a better return for their labor.”  — Ecclesiastes 4:9 (NLT)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     I didn’t say anything else, but quickly snapped the handcuffs on the wrists of so-called John Smith.  He jerked back, but it was too late, the cuffs were already on and tight.

“Why’d you do that for?  I’m not part of McGinnis’ gang!”

     All I could do is smile then replied, “We’ll let the courts and a jury decide that.”

     “No, you can’t…”

     I was up and back over where Doc was working on McGinnis who was now conscious.  “What’s the verdict?” I inquired, looking down at the bloody man.  

     “He’s fortunate, there’s no place where the lead hit a vein or artery.  He might never regain full use of that arm, a couple of pieces tore up the joint, but he should live barring infection,” he paused to glance at my shoulder.  “I need to get you patched up.”

     “Let’s wait until we get down to the jail, then you can sew me up.”  I took a step up on one of the chairs and hollered, “As of now, and further notice, this saloon is officially closed!”  There was some grumbling but men started moving toward the doorway.  One man, holding his arm, looked my direction.  I nodded, then waved for him to come to me.  

     When he approached I stepped down off the chair as most of the crowd was out the door.  “You all right?” I asked, then looked at the Doc.

     “Bullet went right through the meaty part of his arm.  He’ll be okay, but won’t be swinging any hammers for a while.”  

     My attention went back to the wounded man.  “Got a name?”

     “Osian Beavin,” he answered with a slight accent.  “That’ll be up to the boss if’n he has anything that I can do.”

     He wasn’t downcast or anxious over the situation.  “You get fired come on down to Durango, I’ll see that you get some work to see you through.”

     “I’d be grateful to yuh, Marshal,” he said half-smiling.  “Just in the right place at the wrong time, or something like that.”  He nodded then turned to leave bumping into the undertaker on the way out.

     He turned in my direction shaking his head.  “Marshal, it seems that you have the tendency to throw work my way.”

     “Mister Lawton, I leave the deceased in your hands.  Make sure the place is locked up when you leave.  I imagine the keys are behind the bar or on the corpse on the floor.”

My attention went back to the doctor and McGinnis, “Let’s go down to the jail.”  I grabbed John Smith by the collar and started for the door.

     There was grumbling behind me from McGinnis.  “I can’t walk, I hurt too bad.”

     Lifting the Greener, I turned to McGinnis, “You walk, stumble, or crawl, but if you can’t make it I’ll give you a thump and drag you.”

     He lowered his head and began to shuffle towards the entrance with the doc next to him.

     On the way I had to have Smith help the Doc half carry McGinnis to the jail, but we made it and it only took a couple of hard bangs on the door and my hollering for Tanner to open it up.  “Hey, Charlie, I brought you some company.”

     The deputy was wide-eyed, still nervous and looked out the door to see if any one was following us.  “Yur alive?” he muttered.

     “Yep, the good Lord sent a band of angels to watch over me.  Evil was put in its place for the time bein’.  Now help me get these two situated.”

     Within minutes we had the two in cells.  Doc checked McGinnis again to make sure that he wasn’t bleeding and told me to sit and found a groove on my shoulder just below the bone.  It was deep enough that he had to sew it up.  While he was doing that I thought, “another scar to add to the collection.”  I sighed, “Lord, what am I goin’ to look like when I reach heaven?”  

     “What’s that you said?” asked the doctor.  I hadn’t realized I had spoken out loud.  

     “Just askin’ the good Lord a question.”

     With that, the doctor touched my head.  I smiled.

     In a few minutes, he left and I talked to Charlie who was sitting up on his cot.  “Charlie, we have to do something about this den of iniquity.  What’s that, four marshals in the last two years and Masterson didn’t want to stay either.”

     He looked at me, then at his badge…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

     As I approached McGinnis, he was trying to sit up.  He was bleeding in several places on the left side of his body.  I couldn’t tell how serious any of them were, but I saw that he still had enough life to raise his gun.  I was close to him, so I swatted his wrist knocking the gun from his hand.

     “McGinnis, you’re under arrest for murder of law enforcement officers and the attempted murder of Sheriff Gold,” I bent over telling him.  “Your days in Silverton are through.”

     There was a sneer on his face.  In all my years as a lawman, I never have figured out why some people want to meet their Maker with a sneer on their face and hate in their heart.

     I heard the steps of a man approach so I stood to face him.  “Uh, Marshal, yur bleedin’,” he muttered then added, “Doc’s here checkin’ on the man who was wounded from the bullet fired by the Kid.”

     Two things happened, the first was that I began to feel the pain in the top of my left arm and I noticed a man cowering over in the corner.  He was the other man sitting at the table.  Thank the good Lord, my foolishness didn’t cause me to get shot by him.  Fortunately his cowardness left me unharmed.  I walked toward the man, who was holding his arms in the air as he sat on the floor.

     “Get up!” I ordered.

     “I’m not part of McGinnis’ crowd,” he whimpered in fear.  “I was just sitting with him having a drink.”

     “Get up and sit over here where I can watch you better,” I said again.  He hesitated so I lifted the Greener which caused him to move quite rapidly toward the chair by the table.  “Sit there!”

     From the center of the room, I saw a man grab the doctor by the sleeve of his jacket and pull him in my direction.  He came to me, looked at my arm, when I stopped him.  “Better check on McGinnis first, this’ll keep.”

     He grunted, then stooped to where McGinnis lay on the floor.  I heard a groan when Doc began to remove his clothing.  “Bring me a couple of lamps so I can see better!”

     The man who brought Doc over went to the back of the bar where there were a couple of lamps on the counter bringing them over to the table.  “Sit them there, then a couple of you men lift him onto the table.  I can’t see down here on the floor.”

     There was a yell from McGinnis as he was lifted, then quiet.  He had passed out, which was probably good for him as Doc had to remove his clothing from his left side which was covered in blood.  “I’ll have to operate here, he’s in too bad a condition to move him down to my office,” he said to no one in particular.  He then looked over to the bar and asked, “Where’s the bartender?  I need some hot water.”

     There was no answer, so I volunteered, “I reckon he’s dead.”  

     The Doc looked at me in disbelief, then barked, “I need someone to get hot water for me!”

     I looked at a man, “You mind helpin’ out?  See what you can do in the back.”

     While the doctor was discarding McGinnis’ clothing, I saw him glance at the other man on the floor.  With a shake of his head he turned his attention back to McGinnis.  The man brought a bucket of water from the back.  “It’s not hot Doc, but it’s all I could find.”

     The Doc gave out a grunt, took some bandages from his bag and began to wipe away the blood from McGinnis.  “Why he has two, no three holes in him,” he muttered.  “Buckshot.  If they haven’t penetrated too deeply he should pull through.”

     I began to feel the sting on my shoulder.  I looked over at it, but couldn’t see anything with my jacket and shirt on except that it was covered with blood.  I didn’t think there was anything serious.  While the Doc was working on McGinnis, I went over to the man I had placed at the table next to where Doc was working.  “You got a name?”

     He spluttered, “Smith, John Smith”

     “You want to play games, go ahead, but do you realize how many John Smiths I have encountered over the years?  Now, if you want to get serious, tell me your name, if not I’ll put these cuffs on you.”

     He looked at me with a crazed glare…