Sit down!” I ordered.  “Marta can take care of things!  If you don’t I might just have to hobble you.”
    We had been back in Durango for a couple of days.  Molly had some problems walking the first couple of days she was conscious.  She would stand and fall back on the bed.  Finally, she took a couple of steps, then another, and with that she thought she was ready to get back to work.  That is, until she started to fall and I would catch her.  I was close by her side, holding her arm, when we walked to the train station.
    “Let me pour you a cup of coffee,” I offered.
    She grabbed my arm as I was getting up.  “I’d really prefer a cup of tea.”
    With that statement I knew she still wasn’t feeling very well.  I nodded at her and went back to the kitchen.  Marta met me there and said she would have a cup right out.
    Coming back to the table, I grabbed the pot on the stove behind where I normally sat and filled my cup with coffee, not tea.  I had just sat down when Doc Jones walked in the door.  He came straight to our table which didn’t surprise me.
    “How are you doing this morning?” he asked Molly.  He had checked her over when we arrived back in town and again the next day.
    “Much better, Doc, thank you,” she replied with a smile.
    “How ’bout you, Miles?” he said going to the coffeepot before sitting down.
    I had quite a bit to get my brain buzzing.  My first priority was taking care of Molly and getting her settled.  Marta had been a real help in that matter.  She wouldn’t let Molly do much, yet at the same time made sure she had a couple of chores that she could do.  She could stand by the table in the kitchen and roll out her dough and prepare pies for the diner, but she couldn’t take more than a couple of steps away from the table without losing her balance.
    My next inclination was to track down Billy Denton.  To do that I would have to leave Molly.  When we arrived at the station Charlie Gold was there to meet us.  He told me that the bank was missing over $20,000.  On the way to the diner, I stopped at the telegraph station to notify the authorities in Taos to not release Billington’s valise.  I had already telegraphed the marshal’s office in Denver and also the Secret Service of my situation.  A reply was waiting for me when I returned to Durango.  They still needed me there within the month.
    “Thank you, Marta,” said Molly, she had arrived with the tea and brought some honey along with her.
    Marta looked my way.  “As soon as the customers leave, I’ll bring you a piece of apple pie.”
    Molly was sipping on her tea and Doc was observing her hand coordination when in through the door came Franklin Douster, one of the clerks at the bank.  He came over to our table where I motioned for him to have a chair.
    “Coffee?” I asked.
    “No thanks, Mr. Forrester.  You know about the missing money, but I thought I should report that there was a group of tough looking men at the bank yesterday looking for Mr. Billington.  They weren’t miners or cowhands, better dressed than that.  In fact, quite well dressed, but looking at them you just knew they were tough individuals.”
    “Did they say why they wanted Billington?” I asked.  “No, they just said they had an appointment with him.”
    “No sir.  I did tell them that he was on a trip and was down in Santa Fe.”
    I looked up at him and scowled.
    “Did I do something wrong?” he asked worridly.
    “I don’t reckon.”
    “Well, since they said they had an appointment I went to Mr. Billington’s office to look at his calendar.  He didn’t have any appointments scheduled.”
    “Hmmm, thanks Franklin.  If you have any more information be sure and get it to me no matter how trivial you might think it is,” I ordered.
    Douster nodded at me and said that he needed to get back over to the bank.  He stopped after a couple of steps and turned.  “People are going to be very upset if they hear their savings has been taken from the bank.”
    “Franklin, just smile and say that the authorities are investigating and that they will return the money as soon as they are finished.”
    He just nodded and walked on out of the diner.
    “What do you mean, Miles?” asked Doc.
    “I’d stake my piece of apple pie that Marta is bringin’ that Billington was abscondin’ with the money.  I saw thousands of dollars stashed in his valise.”
    Finishing my cup of coffee I looked at Molly.  “I really need to get back to Taos.  I just don’t want to leave you alone yet.”
    “Leave her with Edith and me,” offered Doc.  “That way I can observe her and if she gets to feeling better she can go home.”
    At that time, Marta came with a piece of pie.  She set it in front of Doc.  “Sorry, Senor Miles, that was the last piece.”
    Doc just snickered.  My face must have fallen for all of a sudden Marta laughed, along with Molly.  Magically, it seemed, another plate of pie was placed in front of me.

She was so still, I thought she was dead.
    “She is in a coma,” the doctor said.  “There was a commotion to the brain and for some reason she wound up like this.  The bullet grazed her head and then her head hit the floor.  We know little about the working of the brain.”
    “Will she come out of this?” I asked softly.
    He was slow to answer.  “I don’t know.  From what I’ve read it could last for days or for years.  I’m going to leave you alone with her for a while.  You stay seated and don’t be moving around.  Talk to her; we don’t know but she might be able to hear you.”
    With that the doctor and nurse left the room.  Molly looked so helpless and frail laying there, not moving.  I was scared; everything was out of my control, out of my hands.  I started talking to her and praying to the Lord.  
    I didn’t stay seated in the chair, but went to my knees and put my hand on her arm.  My world was laying there and I was helpless.  I must have fallen asleep, and was wakened by the movement of a hand on my head.  I thought it must be the nurse coming in to check on me, but then I heard “Miles,” spoken very faintly.
    Jerking up my head, I looked at her.  “Molly!  Praise be to the Lord!  You’re alive!  You’re awake!”
    The nurse must have heard my commotion for she came rushing into the room.  “Easy, Mr. Forrest.  Don’t touch her head.  I’ll run for the doctor.”
    I stayed on my knees and held her hand.  Her eyes were partially opened and she whispered, “You’re all right?  I was so scared when I saw you fall after being shot.”  Then her eye-lids flickered.  
    “Excuse me,” the doctor had come in.  “I need to get to her.”
    I didn’t want to leave her side; reluctantly I got up and sat in the chair.  He looked at her then opened her eye-lids to peer in them holding a candle in his hand.  
    “She actually talk to you?” he questioned.
    “Yes.”
    He looked down and saw that she was holding my hand and smiled.  “Keep talking to her, but don’t try to waken her.  She’ll come around in her own good time.”
    It must have been a couple of hours later, I was still there, holding her hand, when I heard.  “I’m thirsty.”
    The nurse happened to be in the room.  “Oh, Molly dear, just a second and I’ll bring you some water.”
    We didn’t want to move her head, so the nurse spooned water into her mouth.  She couldn’t seem to get enough.  “Miles,” she actually turned her head some to look at me, “what happened?”
    “Billy Denton shot you,” I replied.
    “Billy?  Why would he shoot me?  And you, I saw he shot you and I remember you falling; you fired your shotgun at Mr. Billington.”
    I sat there, waiting for the doctor, and told her all that had happened.  The doctor came in and examined her again.  “Can you move your head?” he asked.
    She moved it around slowly.  “What I really have is a terrible headache, and I’m so thirsty.”
    “I think she can sit up,” the nurse went and helped the doctor move Molly into a more upright position.  “Can you hold the glass?” he asked.
    Molly grasped the glass when the nurse gave it to her and quickly drank the water emptying the glass.  “I hate to ask, but by chance, is there any hot tea available?  I think I’d like something hot to sip on.”
    “By the way, Mr. Forrest, we had to move Mr. Billington on down to Santa Fe.  We don’t have the hospital here that can deal with his injuries.  I was able to remove his leg, but there are more extensive injuries…well, most likely he won’t survive the trip.”
    My mind was clearing.  “What about his valise?”
    “You’ll have to ask the sheriff,” he paused.  “You need to let her rest.”
    He helped me up and walked me down to my room.  I was more exhausted than I thought.  Laying down the next thing I heard was the sound of footsteps walking down the hallway; the sound of spurs.  I looked around the room for my gun.  It was on a table a few steps away from the bed.  I was moving toward the table as the door to my room opened…

Oh, you’re back with us,” came a soft, feminine voice.  “I’ll go get the doctor.”
    I heard footsteps leave the room.  Then I tried to gather my senses.  The last thing I remember was them saying that Molly was in another room.
    In a few minutes I could hear the murmuring of voices seemingly outside my room.  “Well, welcome back to the real world,” I recognized the voice of the doctor.  “You needed to rest and sleep; you lost quite a bit of blood.”
    “Where am I? How long have I been sleepin’?  I need to see Molly,” and with that I tried to get up.  The pain hit me; it seemed the wound had not healed.
    I felt the hands of the doctor holding me down.  “Easy, easy; one thing at a time.  Nurse, help me.  Let’s see if we can get him to sit up.”
    The nurse came and held my shoulders and the doctor began to move my legs so I could better sit up.  “Here,” he said to the nurse, “you swing his legs down while I push up on his shoulder.  Now, this might hurt some.”
    It did.  I tried to help them as much as possible and finally they were able to get me into a sitting position with both of them holding me.  Slowly they released me to see if I could sit by myself.
    “Now, to answer the first question.  You are in a small hospital in Taos; really a complex made into a hospital.  There wasn’t any place to take care of you, Molly, and Mr. Billington.  To your second question, you have been unconscious for most of three days.”
    “Molly, the shipment…” I could feel myself beginning to go faint.
    The doctor reached over to grasp me.  “Nurse, some water, please.”
    This time I was able to hold the glass and I drank it rapidly.  I don’t know if water actually has a taste, but this tasted mighty good.  
    “A man from Wells Fargo stopped by.  I was to tell you that they couldn’t hold up the train and that they had to continue.”
    I nodded my head in understanding.  “Molly?”
    “Get him a robe, nurse.”
    The doctor helped me to stand.  My legs felt some wobbly, but they were able to hold me up.  With their help I was able to don it.  Each of them helped me to walk to the door and into the hallway.  Passing the first room, the door was open so I peeked inside.  Billington was laying on a bed.  I paused at the doorway.
    He must have noticed someone standing there for he turned his head.  “Forrest!” he snarled.  “This is your doing!”
    I reached to take hold of the door frame.  “Not mine, Billington.  This is all your doin’.  Havin’ someone bushwhack me and then you pullin’ a gun to finish me off.  No, the blame is entirely yours.”
    “Where’s my valise!” he shouted.
    The doctor pulled me from the door and into the hallway.  “I took the liberty of putting his valise in the bank for safe keeping.  I didn’t count it, but there must be several thousand dollars in it.”
    I looked his way with a shocked expression.  “Molly, is she?…”  My legs gave out and I almost fell.  The nurse and doctor both grabbed me to keep me from hitting the floor.
    “Think you can walk down to the next room?” he asked.
    Moving one foot, I slowly headed that way.  Both of them holding me and as I came to the room where she was, both of them grasped me firmly.  
    Looking in, I held my breath.  I could see her, laying there.  The room was without light, except for one lamp in the corner kept dim.  
    I struggled to loosen myself from their grasp.  I needed to see this for myself.  I could barely move but forced myself to take another step into the room where she was laying.  The doctor came up behind me and firmly put his hands on my shoulders.
    “She is…”
    I pushed forward, “Molly!”

From time-to-time Billington would look our direction.  He looked very anxious and agitated, and often when asked a question by Billy, he would say something that sounded gruff as I couldn’t actually distinguish the words.  Probably better that way.
    Molly gave me a slight elbow.  “Notice anything strange about Mr. Billington and Billy?”
    “Nothing, except he seems a bit agitated,” I replied.
    “And you call yourself an officer of the law.  Hmpf, some investigator you are,” she said mockingly.  “Neither has a suitcase; only Mr. Billington has a valise that appears to be full.”
    “Maybe I should give you my badge.  Maybe he had it checked,” I quipped.  “We can still move up to the compartment cars, if you’d like.”
    “It might make for a more comfortable trip,” she said with a sigh, “but then I know you like to move about in the cars seeing who’s aboard.”
    I glanced over at Billington; he caught my eye.  With a sudden jerk he lifted his chin as if to indicate his position in life was higher than mine.  It made me shake my head.  There are poor people, then there are “poor” people.
    “Want a cup of coffee?  We could go up to the dinin’ car an’ sit a spell.  Might have a different atmosphere.”
    “I’m fine, Miles.  It’s only a couple of hours before supper.  You go ahead; I know you want some coffee,” Molly ventured with a smile.
    Standing up, I left the shotgun with Molly, and started down the aisle.  Billington’s foot was somewhat out in the aisle, and I was tempted.  I so desperately wanted to stomp on it, but I glanced back at Molly.  She smirked and shook her head “no.”
    There were two passenger cars; we were sitting in the last one.  I had to pass through one other car to get to the dining car.  In front of that was a Pullman sleeping car.  I had been tempted to secure berths, but decided I wanted to be closer to the gold, and with that I didn’t want Molly that far away from me.  Call it selfish or insecurity if you want; I like to call it proper caution.  Ahead of the Pullman car was one that that had several small rooms with berths, chairs and the like.
    There were not many passengers aboard, perhaps more would be joining as we ventured south to Santa Fe before turning back north toward Denver.  I sat down at a counter in the dining car and requested a cup of coffee.  Mercy!  I almost had to spit it out.  I’m sure the sinkwater back at the diner in Durango was stronger than this coffee.  I thought that they were trying to save money until they told me that it cost a dime.  That was extortion in its own right, and then the audacity to charge for something they called “coffee.”  I reckoned I would just hop off at one of the frequent stops along the route and grab a cup.
    I was sitting at the counter and began to ponder Molly’s observation about Billington and Denton traveling without any luggage.  I thought I heard Denton fussing about not having a change of clothes, but they were a couple of seats from me and I couldn’t make out what they were saying.  Billington was quite distraught at Billy though.
    The conductor walked by and I grabbed him by the arm.  “I’m Secret Service agent, Miles Forrest,” to introduce myself.  “Is there anywhere I can send a telegram from along the way?”
    “We’ll be stopping for about hour at Chama.  You can send one from there.”
    I nodded, then asked, “Won’t it be pretty late when we pull in?”
    He put in hand on my shoulder in a fatherly manner.  “Telegraph office stays open along the rail.  You’ll be able to get your message off.”
    Rubbing down my moustache, I asked, “Any chance there will be any good coffee at that station?”
    “Come with me, son,” and he started back toward my car.  Going through it I saw Billy dozing and Billington may have been sleeping with his chin resting on his chest.  Molly waved at me, and I mouthed to her, “Be right back.”
    We couldn’t go through the Express Car where the gold was located so the conductor started climbing up to the roof of that car.  I followed right behind him.  Walking on top of that car was an experience in itself.  I reckoned that was what it must be like to be in a small boat, rocking back and forth on the ocean.  At the end of the car we climbed back down and he opened the door to the caboose.  There were five men in that room; a couple sitting around a barrel playing checkers and three laying back on cots.  
    “Demetrius!” the conductor barked.  “Get this fine gentleman some of that coffee you’ve got brewing!” he looked over at me.  “I don’t want his innards to shrivel up inside.”
    The man he called Demetrius reached for a cup and poured some liquid that looked thick and black.  “Here ya go, Mister.”
    Now I had surely drank stronger coffee, but I couldn’t remember when or where.  I could see the men were waiting for some kind of response or expression.  “Ahhh, that’s fine coffee.  Couldn’t have made it better myself,” then I handed the cup back to Demetrius.  “How ’bout toppin’ it off?”
    He smiled, took the cup, and filled it to the brim.  “Greek coffee,” he declared, “half a can of coffee per pot.”
    I finished my cup, not wanting to appear rude then headed on back to where Molly was sitting.  She sort of snuggled close to me as it was a mite chilly in the car.  I convinced her that we should wait until we stopped at Chama to eat.
    The stopping at the station wakened both Molly and me.  We got off and the conductor said we would be leaving in an hour and he pointed toward the telegraph office.  “Any place to eat this time of night?” I inquired.
    “There’s a little shop in the station that sells sandwiches and coffee,” he replied.
    Molly went and ordered sandwiches for us while I went to send telegrams.  As I left the office I saw Billington standing not ten feet away, glaring at me with malice, then came a smile.  He took a couple of steps closer and said, “Miles, I’m sorry,” and started to reach his hand out to shake.