Merker had just bumped into me.  I’m not sure that he recognized me as I was turned slightly away from him.  I was slowly taking a step off the boardwalk when I heard Ooverholm hollering at me.
    He was running my way.  “Marshal Forrest, you’ve got to come with me!”
    I grabbed him by the shoulder, turned him to go in the direction I was heading.  Ooverholm, a tall, skinny man, was red in the face from his exertion.  He wasn’t frail, but sure looked like a stringbean.  “Walk with me,” I ordered, “and tell me what’s wrong.”
    “They’re fighting!” he exclaimed.
    “Who’s fightin’?” I asked as I directed him toward the telegraph station.
    “Mister Douster and a woman claiming to be Mr. Billington’s daughter.  They’re in Mr. Billington’s office, or what used to be his office and are screaming at each other.  They’re saying awful things.”
    He was slowly calming down as he began to walk.  “Go see the sheriff,” I told him.  “I’ll be along, but first I have to send a telegram and see Judge Klaser.”
    Looking at me he nodded and then scurried off toward the jail.  I wondered, as I kept moving, what in the world was going on now.  Stepping up on the boardwalk I glanced toward the jail and saw Ooverholm rush through the door.  Lingering just a minute I watched as he reemerged with Charlie Gold and headed toward the bank.  
    “Howdy, Mr. Forrest,” greeted the telegraph clerk as I entered.  “What can I do for you?”
    “Need to send a telegram.”
    “Paper is right on the counter next to the wall.”  I don’t know why Stan Offut was so formal.  I’ve known him since I arrived in Durango.  We’ve done some hunting and fishing together over the years.  Nice man, has a good wife and young daughter.  He almost lost both of them to the diphtheria epidemic a while back, but they both pulled through thanks to the tireless efforts of Doc Jones.
    I wrote out the telegram to Gilford Covney.  “Saw Merker in Durango–STOP–Have you had trouble in Frisco?–STOP”  As I finished I decided to send the first part of the message to Jens Blasco, the U.S. Marshal for the region.
    “Thanks, Stan,” I said giving the telegram to him and paying him a dollar.  “Buy some candy for Beth with the change.”
    Now I hurried over to Judge Klaser’s home.  Since he had been hit in the head he had been doing most of his work from his house.  I was hoping that perhaps the federal judge would be there also.  Knocking on the door there was no answer.  He was having trouble moving around since his head injury so I gave him plenty time.  I knocked again, then tried the door knob.  It was locked.
    Sighing I turned toward his office.  It was a couple of blocks from his house, across the street from the jail.  The office was outside the courthouse but attached.  To enter the courthouse from his office he had to go outside.  There was a small chamber in the courthouse behind the courtroom where he could change if needed.
    George Denton, no relation to Billy, was sitting at his desk.  He acted as the clerk of the court, the prosecuting attorney, and the judge’s secretary.  He was a small man, slightly pudgy but I’ve seen him in action in court.  In the courtroom he’s a regular bulldog.
    Looking up, he saw me and smiled.  “Hello, Miles.  Here to see the judge?  He and Judge Broomfield are in his office,” he got up and started toward the door.  “I’ll let them know you’re here.”
    He knocked, opened the door and motioned for me to come.  As I entered, Judge Klaser greeted me.  “Miles, good to see you.  This is the federal judge that will try Billy Denton’s case tomorrow, Judge Nathan Broomfield.”
    The judge reached out my hand and I shook it.  I was a little surprised for it was callused and he had a firm grip.  “Sorry to interrupt you, but I thought you should know that there may be someone out there who might want to take a shot at either of you.”
    I proceeded to tell them of Lillian and the men I saw in town.  To my embarrassment I told them of being cold-cocked and then of a man that was of dubious character than I had seen in Denver who had just come to town.
    “I don’t have time to chat,” I informed them.  “Sheriff Gold has just rushed down to the bank where it seems our Miss Lillian is having issues with Douster.  I told Ooverhold that I’d stop by.”
    The men said their thanks and I headed toward the bank.  It had been thirty minutes since Ooverhold had accosted me on the street.  I walked in and he was working with a customer.  I took a seat by the window wondering where Charlie went.  When he finished his business he walked over to me.
    “Strangest thing, Marshal.  When Sheriff Gold and I returned it was quiet.  We could hear some chatting behind the office door and when it opened they were smiling at each other like they were old friends.  She shook his hand, nodded and smiled our direction and walked out.”
    “Where’s the sheriff now?”
    “He said he was going to follow Miss Billington.”
    As those words came out of his mouth there was a gunshot, then another.  It sounded like it came from the direction of the jail.

You! You!” she screamed as she came through the door rushing toward me.
    Customers in the diner stopped eating and took in the sight of the woman in a red dress running toward where I was sitting.  Her face was red, as livid as her dress.  Quickly Marta and Molly ran up on each side of her to hold her.  I stood as she came to the table.
    “You said Billy was the marshal!” she exclaimed, but a little more calmly since Marta and Molly were holding her.
    “No,” I answered.  “I said you would most likely find him at the jail.  You assumed…”
    “Billy wouldn’t do wrong.  He said they wouldn’t let him out; he said no bail.  I went to the judge and he said that the attempted murder of a federal office didn’t warrant bail,” she looked at me and if possible her face became more red.
    “You’re the federal officer!”
    I pulled out a chair.  “Won’t you sit down and calm yourself.  Plus, this is a public eatin’ establishment and you’re upsettin’ the customers.”
    Really, looking around I thought they might be enjoying the show she was putting on.  Marta helped her into the chair then motioned for Molly to sit in the chair next to her.  Marta grabbed the coffee pot and went to see about the customers.  Smart girl, calm the situation down some.
    Sitting there she continued to glare at me.  “Billy wouldn’t shoot anyone.”
    I pointed to Molly.  She pulled back her hair to show the scar.
    “I don’t believe it!” she said with eyes wide.  “He didn’t shoot you, and he certainly wouldn’t shoot a woman.  You’re making this all up!”
    It was time to change the subject.  “Miss Billington, who was the man waitin’ for you in your father’s house?”
    She looked as if she had been slapped.  “There was no one.  You’re mistaken, just like you are in Billy’s shooting.  If must have been someone else,” she said now agitated.  Anger sure didn’t help her countenance.  Facial lines flooded out from the edge of her mouth making her look older and downright mean.
    “The federal judge arrived today.  The trial will begin tomorrow.”
    Standing up abruptly, she knocked over the chair, which when it crashed to the floor got everyone’s attention again.  She glared at both me and Molly and stormed out the diner, not as exuberant as she entered.
    “Whooeee,” I breathed.  Marta came to us with a couple of cups and filled them with coffee.
    “She’s something else,” remarked Molly.
    I took a couple of deep swallows.  “I need to go see Foster about gettin’ a marshal to help Charlie at the jail.  She’s hidin’ somethin’ ’bout a man at her house.  Someone thunked me on the head, and I wouldn’t doubt if there aren’t at least four hombres out there,” I took another deep swallow that emptied my cup.
    “I reckon I should see the federal judge along with Judge Klaser; just for them to stay on the alert,” I pulled at my moustache a couple of times.  “Think I’ll send a telegram to Covney.”
    Walking to the door I peered back to wave at Molly when I caught a whiff of a putrid aroma and thought I heard the faint cackle of a sneering laughter.  I didn’t have time to dwell on that now.  Death may follow me, but I don’t have time to wait around and dwell on it.  As I began my exit, I saw Ooverholm scurrying across the street my direction.  With my focus on him I bumped into a man entering the diner.  I had just a glance but I had seen him before, it was…

I hesitated thinking I should go back and check the house.  Looking back once, I decided to make a visit to the jail and have a little chat with Billy Denton.
     It was a hot summer day and by the time I walked the few blocks to the jail I was sweating.  The streets were full of activity with customers moving about.  Unemployed, out-of-luck, or just plain lazy miners were lounging around on benches or sitting on the edge of the board walks.  Most people who worked the mines understood the hard work that was involved, but there were always those dreamers of gold just thinking they could pick up lumps like fresh potatoes; just hoe them up, reach down, pick them up and you’d be rich.  Fools!  
     Charlie Gold had returned from the diner, and was sitting at the desk going over some new wanted posters.  Looking up as I entered, he greeted me.  “Howdy, Miles.”
     I pointed back out the door.  “They need to get a marshal.  There’s a bunch of loafers out there an’ mixed in with them are some scum waitin’ for their chance.”
     “I’m doing what I can, Miles,” he replied in defense with a tone of being hurt.
     “Oh, I’m not onto you, Charlie.  Those city-fathers need to get movin’ an’ appoint a marshal.”
     I knew Charlie was busy with his duties as sheriff.  He was very diligent in traveling through the county.  There were twenty-five counties in Colorado; why, until just recently Durango went by the name of Animas City.  In a month he would visit all the major settlements and mining camps, visiting Silverton a couple of times.  The county was large and he didn’t have a deputy or the funds to hire one.  No, I wasn’t going to blame Charlie Gold.
     “When I’m in town, I try to make sure I do the rounds of a marshal,” then he paused and smiled.  “Want some coffee?”
     He didn’t wait for an answer, but got up and went to the pot sitting on top of the stove.  Bringing me a cup, he continued to talk.  “The council is afraid to act since Billington died.  But what can I do for you?  I know you didn’t come to hear my woes.”
     “I’d like a few words with Denton.”
     “Let’s go see young Billy.”
     There were three cells in the jail.  One against the back wall and two that were across from each other.  It was stuffy with a stale odor left over from unwashed bodies that spent the night.  There also lingered the aroma of booze from the drunks who would sleep it off in one of the cells.
     “Denton!  I brought you a visitor.”
     Billy was laying on the cot.  He turned, saw it was me, and rolled toward the wall.
     “Not very sociable is he,” remarked Charlie making a statement, not a question.
     “Billy, do you know your cousin Lillian is in town?” I asked.
     With that, he rolled over and sat up.  “Lillian, here?”
     “Billy, who were the men that grabbed your uncle?”
     His eyes widened, then a scowl appeared on his face.  “What men?” he answered with agitation.
     “We know that Billington had taken money from the bank and you were traveling with him.  What was going on?” asked Charlie.
     He sat there, putting his face in his hands.  “Are those men with your cousin?”  I asked.
     “Men!” he said acting startled.  Groaning, he faced the wall, curling up on the cot.  Charlie looked at me and shrugged.
     Back out in the main office I told Charlie about what I saw and suspected when I walked Lillian to Billington’s house.  I also told him of my little encounter with the barrel of a gun.
     “I don’t know exactly what’s goin’ on, but you stay alert, Charlie.  Oh, an’ I expect you’ll be seein’ Lillian soon…she thinks Billy is still the marshal.”
     I wandered around town a bit then went back to see Molly.  Taking my normal seat, Marta came over and poured a cup of coffee for me.
     Sipping on the coffee, I pondered, rolling the thoughts around in my head.  Molly came over and sat down for a few minutes and we discussed the situation together.  It had been a couple of hours since I left the jail.
     I had taken a sip and was pulling on my moustache.  This time I was not a bit surprised at who burst through the front door.  It was…

As soon as those rough-looking characters left, I got up, grabbed my hat, and took one more swallow of coffee.  It was cold.  I started to reach for the Greener, but decided to leave it leaning against the wall.
     “Be back in a bit,” and I hurried on out the door.
     They were not in sight, but I continued to amble on down toward the undertaker.  Parker had a reputable business as a cabinet maker and served as the undertaker; oh, and on the side he made trunks.
     Lillian had said she was going down to see the mortified remains of her father, and I had the notion that the two men followed her.  I don’t know why exactly, and I didn’t know if there was a connection or not, but something in my gut said things were not as they seemed.
     I had just passed Jensen’s Hardware & Feed and was about half a block from Parker’s.  My eyes were focused on his place when….
     Groggedly I felt someone shaking my shoulder.  “Mr. Forrest, Mr. Forrest, are you all right?”
     “All but my head.  Someone thumped me good,” I replied.  I felt silly, sitting there in the alley-way with a knot on my head.  If was a mistake a tenderfoot might make.  He could as easily shot me as whacked me over the head.  I had no idea how long I was out, fifteen, twenty minutes maybe.
     Then I wondered, so I asked, “How’d you see me layin’ in the alley?”
     “I was walking from Mr. Parker’s and happened to glance in the alley as I passed by and saw a boot, so I went to examine who it might be.  Oh, Mr. Forrest, you were right, my Father looked frightful,” she cried and reached up to dab her eyes with a hankie.
     By that time I had struggled and was standing.  “Did you see two fellas outside here, maybe followin’ you?”
     “No, no, you said they were following me?” she gasped throwing her hands to the top of her chest.  “Do you think I have anything to worry about?”  She looked at me and continued, “Do you think it was one of them that hit you?”
     I started to shake my head, but that made it throb worse.  Looking at her I asked, “Do you have a place to stay?”
     “Yes, thank you for asking.  I’ll stay at my Father’s house.  I was just going that direction now.  I need to get his things in order.”
     “Let me walk you there, just in case,” I took a stumbling step.
     “Shouldn’t you just sit down?  I know where he lives and I’m sure I’ll be alright.”
     “Once I’ve taken a few steps I’ll be okay,” I paused.  “Could I trouble you to reach down an’ pick up my hat?”  I didn’t want to lean over and then fall flat on my face.
     She handed my hat to me and I gently placed it on my head.  Then we started walking.
     As we walked along she asked, “Did you know my Father?”
     “I did.  He was the banker so most of the folk in town knew him.”  I didn’t want to come out and say I was the one who blew off his leg.
     I hoped she didn’t ask more about him, but then she went off in a different direction.  “I heard my cousin was in town.  Do you know him–Billy Denton?”
     Now how do I answer that, I thought to myself?  “Our paths have crossed a time or two.”
     Her eyes seemed to light up.  “Do you know where I might find him?”
     “Most likely down at the jail.”
     “Wonderful!  I heard that he became marshal.”
     Should I tell her, I wondered?  Thankfully we were almost at Billington’s home.  For a man with his money, he didn’t take care of his place very well.  The fence needed repair and painting.  The porch need to be cleaned.  Then I glanced to the back of the house and thought I saw the tail of a horse swish.
     She interrupted my thoughts when she said, “Thank you for walking me.  I hope your head will feel better soon.  Oh, you don’t have to walk me to the door.”
     I turned to leave as she approached the door.  Then I turned back.  I wondered if she had a key.  I didn’t see her trying to unlock the door; it seemed that it just swung open.  I stood awhile and watched….