From my chair at the table I’ve seen many different types of people walk through the doors of the diner.  Some have been good, and there have been those who wanted to kill me.  I was very surprised at who just walked through–Lillian Billington.  She stopped just inside to find a table, so I stood up, waved at her to come join us.
     She wasn’t what a person would call a beautiful woman but she wasn’t hard on the eyes either.  She hesitated briefly when I invited her over, but then started out way.  One could tell by the wrinkles in a well-to-do dress that she had been traveling.  I guessed she had arrived on the train.
     I stayed standing as she approached to introduce her.  “This is my wife, Molly,” who nodded her greeting to Lillian. “This is Doctor Jones and the fellow next to you is our sheriff, Charlie Gold.  And I don’t know if I ever gave you my name when we met before, but I’m Miles Forrest.”  As I said that I thought I saw a glimmer of malice pass through her eyes.  “This is, Miss?” I said with a question, “Lillian Billington.”
     Charlie stood up and pulled out a chair for her.  She sat down, smoothed her dress and just nodded a greeting to those at the table.
     “I met her at the rail station on my way to Santa Fe,” Then looking at her I asked, “Coffee?”
     With, what I thought was a slightly forced smile, she replied, “Yes, please.”
     After pouring a cup for her, I set it down on the table.  “I’ve been looking for my father,” she said after taking a sip.  “I was told that he took the train to Santa Fe.  Oh, I don’t know why he didn’t wait for me,” frustration filling her voice.  “We were to take a trip to Denver together; a sort of mini-vacation.”
     “Where are you from, Lillian?” asked Molly politely.
     “When Father moved here, my mother and I moved on to Sacramento.  It seemed that they had a disagreement about his choice of location.  I had just turned 18 so I went with her as they both agreed that a mining town was no place for a young lady.”
     She looked over at Charlie and put her hand on his arm.  A move that was detected by Marta who was across the room waiting on a table.  “Do you know where my Father is?”
     Charlie looked at me, then Doc.  “Well…”
     “You do!  Good, tell me, I must see him.”
     I was watching her when my attention was drawn back to the entrance of the diner.  In walked two rough-looking characters.  They looked the room over carefully and they stiffened a mite when they saw Lillian.  They were miners and they sure weren’t cowboys, they were of a different sort that I had seen over the years, those who wore their guns tied low.
     After their initial observation they walked on over to a table and sat down.  Marta went over to take their order.  My eyes were watching them and one would glance my direction every so often.
     Charlie began to speak, but Doc interrupted.  “Miss Billington, I’m sorry to tell you that your Father is dead.”
     “No!” she exclaimed, then looked at me and this time the malice stayed in her eyes.  “I went to Santa Fe and was told he had been shot, but that he had been discharged from the hospital so I assumed he was all right.”
     “A man found him dead, lying on the road outside of Chama,” piped in Charlie.  “He brought him to Durango.  The burial will be today.”
     “May I see him?” she asked dabbing at her eyes.
     “Miss,” chimed in Doc.  “I really don’t think that would be a good idea,” he paused rubbing his face.  “He was found in pretty bad shape.”
     “Oh, but I must,” she said.
     Doc stood up, “Come with me,” and reached for her arm.
     They walked on out the door and I noticed that she looked over at the men who had come in, just briefly enough to nod her head at them.  A minute or so after she went out the door they got up to follow.
     “Hey!” exclaimed Marta.  “Here’s your food.”
     They didn’t pay her any mind and walked on out.

By the time I arrived at the jail, Grizz had taken the body off the pack mule he was leading.  Charlie helped him lay it out in the alley beside the jail.
    “Now, I’m a-warnin’ yuh all, this isn’t a sight that I‘ll want to think of at the dinner table.  The ravens and other varmints have been feastin’ on him for a few hours.”
    Pulling the tarp away from the body the putrid smell of dead flesh hit you square in the face.  The man had his eyes eaten out, most likely by the ravens and other spots on his face.  But what got your attention was the mess where his leg had been amputated.  
    As soon as the smell hit me I threw my arm up over my nose.  “Billington,” came the gagging voice of Charlie Gold.
    “Yuh know this stiff?” asked Grizz.
    “Cover him up!” ordered Charlie.
    “Did,” I answered.  “He was the head of the bank here in town.”
    “My land!” exclaimed Grizz.  “Hard to tell with all the varmints eatin’ on him, but looks to me like someone blasted him with a shotgun; then had his leg amputated.”
    The smell had lessened after Grizz covered him up.  “You’re a regular detective, Grizz.  That’s exactly what happened to him.  In fact, I’m the one who shot him.”
    Grizz raised his eyebrows.  “Then how come I came about findin’ him lyin’ off a the ridge northwest of Chama?”
    People were starting to come around to see what was happening.  “Mind if you take him on down to the understaker’s?” I asked of Grizz.  “Then come over to the diner and I’ll tell you what I know.”
    Grizz bent down and wrapped him up in the tarp and flung him over the horse, not bothering to tie him down and started off toward the furniture store that was also owned by the undertaker.
    “I better get the news to Denton,” said Charlie.  Looking at me he continued.  “You should be glad you weren’t here a bit earlier.  Denton has a lawyer now and he’s a doozy.  Yelling all about habeas corpus and the civil rights.  I just told him to take it to the judge.”
    I was ready to make my get-away from that place as there was still the lingering aroma of putrifying flesh.  Doc was just coming out the door as I was entering the diner.  “Doc, you might want to come back in.  Grizz found the body of Billington and as soon as he drops it off at the undertaker he’ll be along.”
    The diner was fairly full as it was the beginning of the lunch crowd.  Doc and I went to my table.  “More coffee, Doc?” I asked.
    Shaking his head no, I grabbed a cup for myself, and also put one on the table for Grizz.  Molly came over after taking food to a table.
    “What did Grizz want?” she asked.
    “He found the dead body of Billington,” I paused as I poured the two cups full.  “He’ll be along any minute.”
    Sitting down I started telling Doc the condition of the body keeping my voice low so as to not spoil the dinner of any of the customers.
    Molly came back by, reached down and took a sip of my coffee.  “Hon, why don’t you bring an open-face hot beef sandwich for me and Grizz?” I said pleadingly and smiled.
    The timing was perfect.  Grizz walked in the door as Molly walked out of the kitchen with our lunches.  One thing for sure, ol’ Grizz knew how to use a fork.
    I would take a bite, then relate the story to Grizz, who would stop enough to look at me, nod, then continue eating.  As he finished, he grabbed his bandana and wiped off his beard.  “Think there some pie in the kitchen?” he questioned.  Molly happened to be standing near, so she whirled off to the kitchen.
    “Billington, could leave a sour taste in my mouth,” said Doc.  “But if he didn’t have any morphine or laudanum he would have been in excruciating pain.  I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
    Molly brought back a piece of pie for Grizz and looked at me.  “Last piece, morning crowd ate us out,” she said and shrugged her shoulders.  “If I get time I’ll bake something for supper.”
    “Now there are at least four men out there, looking for money.  I haven’t a clue as to what they look like or who they are,” I informed Doc and Grizz.
    Wouldn’t you know it!  In through the door walked…

What do you think went wrong with Billy?” asked Molly.
    I shrugged my shoulders then stood up, turned to the stove and took hold of the handle of the coffeepot.  I brought it back to the table and filled Molly and Marta’s cups.
    Anihu, Marta’s sister, came out from the kitchen.  I motioned her over, “Come, join us.”  I went to the counter for another cup.  Rarely did she ever appear from the kitchen.  She would come in early in the morning, get the stoves hot, cook, clean the kitchen, and leave at night after closing.
    She gave a little smile as I pulled out a chair for her then poured her a cup.  “Gracias, Senor Forrest,” she said stiffly.
    “Está bien,” Marta whispered.
    Then Marta looked at Molly.  “To answer you, Billy is what you say, spoiled!”
    “Well,” I remarked, “we gave him plenty chances.”
    Molly started to reply when through the door walked Doc Jones.  Anihu glanced at him, then jumped up and scurried to the kitchen.
    “Was my approach untimely?” he questioned with concern.
    “Sit down, Doc,” suggested Molly.  “Miles, would you get him some coffee?”
    “She hasn’t been the same since our mother died from the fever sickness.  She was always quiet, aloof, but now she rarely speaks to anyone.  When she sees you Doctor Jones, she remembers the diphtheria and the death of our mother.”
    “I am truly sorry,” answered Doc.
    “I’m concerned about Billy,” interrupted Molly.  “What will happen to him?”
    After taking a sip, I replied.  “It depends on which court takes precedence.  If tried for shooting you by the State, he’ll most likely spend several years in Canon City.  If the federals try him for shooting me, he’ll go to that prison in Kansas,” I paused, taking a long drink, wiped my moustache and continued.  “Either way, he’ll be spending a long time in prison.”
    “Shame,” Molly remorsefully replied, “I always liked him.”
    I just grunted.
    “Who would have guessed he was related to banker Billington?” Doc was questioning when two youngsters burst through the door.
    “I have a message for you marshal,” yelled one.
    “No, I have the message,” said the other who turned to face his opponent.
    “Hey!” I yelled.  “Tommy, who gave you the message?”
    “It was that old man, Grizz, I think he’s called.”
    “Okay, Henry, what was the message?”
    “To hurry on down to the jail!”
    Standing up I searched in my vest pocket and found two nickels.  Flipping them each one I said, “Tell him I’m on my way.”
    Reaching down I drank the last couple of swallows of coffee, wiped my sleeve across my moustache, received a frown from Molly, so I patted her on the shoulder saying, “Let me go see what Grizz wants.”
    Grizz was standing outside the jail with Charlie Gold.  As I approached, he pointed at the bundled draped over the packhorse.  It was a body…

Charlie Gold came to get me as soon as Billy reached consciousness.  We rushed back over to the jail to see Billy sitting up on the cot in his cell, holding his head.
    “I need a doctor!” he cried.  “My head feels as if it’s cracked open.”
    “Look at your hands, Denton,” replied Charlie.  “They’re no blood, and doc will have a look at you when he makes his rounds.”
    He glanced up and saw me standing there.  “Get him out of here!” he exclaimed.  “He has no right to be in here!”
    “That’s where you’re mistaken.  Miles is a duly appointed federal law enforcement officer, so he has every right to be here.  And there’s that little fact that you tried to kill him twice, plus an attempt to kill his wife.”  
    Denton looked at me and sneered.  “Then I want my lawyer!  I know my rights!  Let me out of here to see a lawyer!”
    “Not going to happen, Billy.  The Judge has done refused bail for you.  Anyone who attempts to kill a federal officer is a danger to society–no bail.  Give me your lawyer’s name and I’ll get him for you.”
    He groaned, “I don’t know it.”
    “Well, if you don’t know his name how am I going to get him for you?”
    “He’s my uncle’s lawyer.  Get him!” he said then started retching.
    Charlie started to open his cell and I put my hand against it stopping him.  “Doc told me that this is common when a man is hit in the head hard enough to lose consciousness.  He’ll be all right.”
    After he had thrown up what little breakfast he had in his stomach he looked up again.  “Billington’s lawyer, get him!”
    “Billington’s your uncle!” I exclaimed.  “Hmm, that would make Lillian your cousin.”
    “Lillian!  She’s here?” he yelled then laid down on the bed, moaning.
    “No, I saw her last in Santa Fe.  I don’t know where she was going from there.  She went to the hospital where they had your uncle.”
    He sat up and asked, “Where’s my uncle?”
    I glanced at Charlie and said, “This thing is gettin’ more interestin’ by the hour.”  Then looking back at Billy I answered him.  “Some men came and took your uncle from the hospital and went on the road to Taos,” pausing I looked at him.  “He’s probably dead.  With the operation he had, he should never have left the hospital.”
    He gave me a look of hatred; one that I had only seen coming from the Pale Rider.  “It’s your fault, Forrest!”  He groaned again and muttered, laying back down on the cot.  “The money…”
    “Don’t fret about the money, Billy,” said Charlie.  “Miles has taken it back to the bank.”
    Looking at me he exclaimed, “I’ll kill you yet, Forrest!” and he rolled over to face the wall.
    Charlie motioned for me to leave with him and go to the front of the jail.  Sitting down at his desk he looked at me and asked, “What do you think about all this?”
    I took a cup from the shelf and helped myself to the coffee on the stove.  After taking a couple of sips I replied.  “I’m still ponderin’ on it, Charlie.  There’s more to this than stealin’ money from the bank and runnin’ off,” I took another, longer sip.  “Billy didn’t seem to like the idea of Lillian bein’ here.”
    “So,” Charlie began, “there’s Billington, who may be dead, several thugs, at least four, Lillian, and Billy involved in this.”
    There was a shot and scream…