Denton stepped back when I suggested he do something. I really didn’t think he would try and face me down. Plus it wasn’t his place; the gold was under my supervision, not Billington’s.
One of these days I think steam will actually roll from Billington’s ears. Either that or his top will blow off. Guess he was upset that the gold wouldn’t be in his bank and he could spout his mouth off boasting about it, or that he was upset that I was in charge of the gold. But the world has always had the pompous.
I had Charlie go tell Molly to be at the station at ten in the morning; that’s when the train will pull out for Denver. She was to have my grip packed along with hers. I didn’t doubt that she would be ready. Lucas came by to get Hawk and he was given the job of riding Star, Hawk, and Two-Bits. I decided not to take Star with me. If I needed a horse I would just pick one up from one of the liveries in Denver.
After Charlie came back I stepped off to send a couple of telegrams. One to the Secret Service office in Denver and the other to the U.S. Marshal’s office in Denver. I told them the train would be leaving at 10:00 am and there would be one change of train outside LaJunta.
Charlie brought a sandwich back for me, and would you believe, a piece of pie. In the express car where we were carrying the gold there was a stove so we made a pot of coffee and settled in for the night. I had just finished the sandwich when there came a pounding on the door not far from where I was sitting.
Motioning for Charlie to move to a position across from where I was sitting and just back a few feet I moved to open the door. I wished for one of those little peek-windows where I could see who was outside. I would be making that suggestion to Wells Fargo and the Secret Service. As it was I had to open the door to see who was out there.
“Ring out!” I hollered. “Who’s out there?”
“Billy Denton,” came the reply.
I opened the door a few inches. “What do you want, Billy?”
“Mister Billington said for me to help guard the gold.”
Opening the door so he could step through I said, “Billy, it’ll be a long night, think you can stay awake?”
For that I received a scowl from him. “I can do my job!” he answered smartly.
“Here you go, Billy. You can sit here in the middle of the car–gold on both sides of you,” said Charlie.
He walked over to a partial pallet lying on the floor and sat down. Charlie started talking again. “Of course you realize, if we’re attacked most likely they will try to get through the side door since it’s larger and that’s the easiest way to unload the gold,” he paused and smiled. “That wouldn’t sidin’ won’t stop a bullet.”
Billy’s head jerked up. “He’s just kiddin’, Billy,” I calmly said. “No one is goin’ to attack this car tonight. You can rest easy.”
However, both Charlie and I laid back with boxes of gold bullion between us and the end doors.
The night was cold, and we kept the fire in the stove along with the pot of coffee going. When it was fully light the next morning they began to move the gold from this car over to the train from Denver. Molly arrived around 9:20 and boarded. I couldn’t pay her any attention but I felt assured she had all my clothes. We would be in Denver nigh onto a week to ten days.
The transfer of gold went smoothly. Charlie was at the car where the gold was being unloaded and I was in the car where it was transferred. Billy just walked back and forth in whatever official capacity he might have; really he didn’t know what he was doing. At 10:10 we were ready to pull out. I had checked each box to make sure it was nailed tight and not tampered with. Wells Fargo had five guards in the car so I would be able to spend some time riding with Molly. The gold, technically was under their care.
A few minutes before we pulled out Billington came running up, puffing and out-of-breath. He grabbed Billy by the top of his jacket and pulled him aboard. It seemed the two of them were taking the train to Denver. Molly smiled at them, but all I could do was heave a big sigh.

I was up early to get up to the mill for some of Mr. Burleski’s coffee. I reined Hawk at his office and went in. The clerk held up his hand for me to stop and he went to the office door and knocked, then opened it.
“Mister Forrest is here,” he announced.
Walking into the office I saw Burleski looking out the window. “I came early for some of your coffee.”
Turning, he sort of grunted, then walked to a table next to the stove and grabbed a couple of cups. He filled both cups full of the hot, black fluid. “Here,” and he thrust the cup at me. “Can you drink and walk?” Then he took off and stood on the platform, drinking his coffee and watching the men start to gather.
There were five wagons already in position with teamsters holding the teams. Two guards, armed with sawed-off shotguns stood at the top of the ramp. There were two more armed the same way at the bottom. A man walked out and looked our direction. Burleski pointed and the man waved back. Men now began to lug the gold down to the wagons. I saw two more guards just inside and then noticed another two on the side of the platform looking back giving them a different view of the loading from the other guards.
As soon as one wagon was loaded the teamster drove it out a few feet from the platform. He stayed on the wagon, not looking around while the same procedure was taking place with the second wagon. The loading was smooth, and went relatively fast.
A man stumbled and fell with the loading of the fourth wagon. Immediately one of the guards jumped down, the other guards stopped the loading of the gold. For a big man Jakub Burleski was fast for he was down and moving toward the man laying on the ground; I followed.
“Miland, get up!” ordered the guard.
The man struggled to get up. “Sorry, I’m jist plumb tuckered out; need a break.”
By that time, Burleski was on the scene. “Havin’ trouble, Mr. Miland?” he questioned.
“Just worn out, that’s all, Mr. Burleski, thanks for askin’,” replied the downed man who finally was standing.
“Might be easier if you didn’t have that brick in your bib,” the man’s eyes went wide in fright as he heard the words from Burleski. “Take it out!” Miners often wore overalls with a bib pocket in front where they would carry their lunch.
There was real fear in Miland’s eyes now. He started to run, but the guard behind him was too quick and slapped him upside the head with the shotgun, dropping him to the ground. Burleski walked over, lifted him up with one hand by grasping the front of his shirt, then reached and pulled out a brick of gold that had been hidden in the bib.
“Tie him up!” ordered Burleski and get back to work.
The work was not started again until Burleski and I was back up on the platform by his office. “This happen often?” I asked.
“No,” came the gruff answer. “I’m surprised it was Miland. He’s a good worker, has a family in the camps,” he looked down toward Silverton. “Now, I have to turn him in to the marshal.”
I could sense that he didn’t care much for the local law enforcement. “Turn him over to me. I’m here on behalf of the federal government. I’ll take him to Silverton; see if I can find out why he did it.”
Within the next hour the wagons were down the hill from the mill and now the loading was taking place on the train, now with Wells Fargo guards as well. Miland sat tied next to the gold, sullen and not wanting to speak.
Since this was the first shipment of the year there was a major load. So large, that the Wells Fargo office in Durango wasn’t large enough to hold all the gold so part of it would have to be held in the bank–Billington’s bank.
Just before we left I sent a telegram to Charlie Gold, requesting that he meet the train when we arrived. In talking with the conductor this train would not be making the morning trip back up the line in the morning. I decided that we would not unload the car until it was time to load the car that would be heading for Denver.
A few hours later the train arrived in Durango and Charlie was there waiting. “Charlie, would you tell Molly that I’ll be staying with the train tonight and for her to pack my gear for the trip to Denver. I reckon she will already have her grips packed,” he started to leave. “By the way, you’re stayin’ the night here as well.”
He wasn’t gone ten minutes when Billington came puffing up to the train, and lo and behold, Billy Denton was with him. “What do you think you’re doing, Forrest?” he demanded.
“The gold will be stayin’ on the train for the night. There’s too much of it to move to different locations.”
“You can’t do that!” he exclaimed. “That gold is to be kept secure in the safe of the bank.”
“Oh, but I can,” and I pulled out my badge–Secret Service. “I’m in charge of the gold until it gets to the mint in Denver.”
Billington turned to Denton. “Do something, you’re the guard at the bank. Take that gold to the safe!”
I smiled at Billy, lifted the Greener just slightly. “Yes, Billy, do something…”

There was a little soreness where the bullet had grazed my neck, but other than that the week was back to normal; whatever that is. The weather had turned nice again, warm days, but frosty nights. Snow in Durango was gone, but there was still plenty in the high country.
Billington and the Council still had not replaced the marshal. I talked to each of them, telling them that Charlie Gold was available, but the election on Tuesday changed that. He was now the newly elected sheriff of the county. His office was a little nicer than the marshal’s office as it was in the newly built county courthouse. He had two deputies to help him; one stayed mainly at the courthouse and acted as bailiff.
I had my reckonings and I reckoned that Billington was looking for “his man” to be placed in the marshal’s office. Molly told me to let it go, but I was concerned for the people of Durango. Having Charlie as sheriff would help, but he also would have to be out of Durango on county business.
It was time for the bullion to be shipped down from Silverton. I had sent a telegraph to the U.S. Marshal’s office and the Secret Service office in Denver letting them know that I would be going up to meet the shipment, follow it back to Durango, and then ride the rails with it to Denver.
The railroad sure changed how things were shipped and made the trip much faster. In fact, five years ago or so, the shipment could not be made for another month as the passes were still closed. Instead of two days it took four hours. I still missed the ride through the high country though; something about that fresh mountain air and the cold water rushing from the snow made a man feel different–alive might be a good word.
I took Hawk with me, but I wouldn’t have to ride him much. He was such a good mountain horse; I would keep Star for the trip to Denver. He needed to be let out so he could run. Not as good in the mountains as Hawk, but he could flat out run him on the prairie.
The trip up was uneventful. Being Secret Service I was offered a compartment to sit in all decorated with finery, a nice table, comfortable cushioned seat and service with a silver set. I declined, but now sitting on the hard bench I longed for the days when there was a stove at one end of the car with a coffee pot on top.
After unloading I walked Hawk to the Wells Fargo office. They would oversee the guarding of the gold. I wanted to say howdy to the boys working there, also to let them know that I would be on the train. They told me they had heard of the Secret Service, so I reckon it wasn’t so secret.
Mounting Hawk, I rode up to the mill which was about a half mile out of town. There were several wagons ready to be loaded. That would be done in the morning and taken directly to the train. I dismounted at the office, went inside telling the clerk at the front desk who I was. He asked to see my credentials; that was a good sign. Then he went to the door of the supervisor, knocked, opened the door and motioned for me to enter.
Looking out the window was a man about my height, but would make twice of me in the shoulders.
“Excuse me,” said the clerk. “Mister Burleski, this is Miles Forrest to see you.” Then he turned, walked out shutting the door.
The man turned, glanced at me then in a gruff voice said, “Forrest, hmmm, heard of you.” Then he held out his hand. “Want a drink, cigar?”
“No, thank you,” then I took his hand, a firm grip, and he wasn’t trying to impress me with it. “Take a seat. Call me, Jakub, second generation from the old country.”
“My job is to follow the gold from your mill to the mint in Denver. There have been some discrepancies…”
He interrupted me, “Someone is stealing the gold. Don’t play niceties with me, Forrest, I know the allure that gold brings.”
I nodded, then continued. “It doesn’t happen all the time, but enough that someone is putting a sizeable amount in his pants.”
“We have to check every man when he leaves work. After the gold is removed from the ore there is that temptation to put a bit in their bib.”
“What time do I need to be here in the mornin’?” I asked.
He turned back to the window and looked up at the sky. “We will have to wait until daylight so the guards can watch properly. The earliest we can start is 7:30. It will take us most of the morning to load the wagons, get it over to the train station to unload the wagons and load up the rail car.”
I stood up to leave, offering my hand to him. “Come early, I’ll have the coffee on,” he said taking my hand.
Burleski followed me outside to the platform…

I flung the cup at no one in particular, but sort of toward the middle man. Drawing at the same time I shot at the man to my left. I know I hit him, but didn’t know where or how bad. My next move was to kick over the table, but I  was able to get off a shot.
Feeling the burn of the bullet along my neck I dove to my left hitting the floor hard, jarring me. He had shot a couple of times into the table. I raised up slightly to get a shot at him. It seemed that there were shots off to my right. I had forgotten about the third man.
Taking aim under the tables I fired. The bullet hit a table leg missing, but a splinter must have hit him for he went down to one knee. He had me located and fired in my direction, the bullet smashing into the back of the chair behind me.
Raising up I fired. This time I heard the thud of bullet striking flesh and a grunt. Standing I took a step toward and as I did I felt the tug of a bullet hitting the heel of my boot. It was the man I shot when I first fired. Taking another step I saw him on both knees; his one hand holding his side.
“Throw it down!” I ordered.
“Blazes I will,” then he raised his gun to fire. I shot twice, both bullets hitting him; one smashing into his right shoulder breaking the bone while the other caught him high on the breastbone. He sat there, slumped over and bleeding.
There was another shot from the man on the floor, but it was not close. I took a step in his direction; he was lying on his back. He tried to lift his arm to fire again, but I was close enough to kick the gun out of his hand. Then I put my pistol up under his chin, he just closed his eyes.
“Miles, you all right?” came a voice from over by the kitchen. It was Charlie Gold.
“Yeah, Charlie.” That was the shooting I heard over to my right. He must have taken care of the third man. Good thing, because I had my hands full with these two. “You show’d up at just the right time.”
Checking the man on the floor in front of me, I saw where my bullet hit. He was bleeding from just below his ribcage on the left side. Charlie and I both moved toward the man kneeling in the center of the diner. He was moving his hand trying to raise it, but because of his smashed shoulder couldn’t. His chin was resting on his chest just above the hole that was freely pouring blood. Lifting his head he tried to focus on me, but his eyes were glazing over.
He coughed and tried to say something. I couldn’t make it out, “Bil”, then his head fell forward. He had gone on to now meet his Maker.
Charlie was standing over the man he shot. He was dead; a bullet in the chest and one in his face. I holstered my gun and slapped Charlie on the shoulder.

Thirty minutes later, Doc Jones had been by as well as the undertaker who had removed the bodies. There was a closed sign on the door and Marta was scrubbing up the blood that had spilt on the floor.
Charlie was sitting at the table with Molly and me. “I saw the sign on the door that said the diner was closed. That didn’t settle right, being closed this time of day so I went to the back door.”
“Well, that deserves a cup of coffee on the house, don’t you agree, Molly?” I got up, grabbed some cups, and went to the stove. Pouring coffee for the three of us, I came back to the table.
We were sitting there, the rush now passed, sipping on the coffee. I put my hand on Molly’s arm and said, “Just another action-packed day in the lives of the Forrest family,” and gave her a big smile.
“Hey, Marta, you sure you want to get married to a lawman?” Marta stood up, walked to the table glaring at me. Then she leaned over giving Charlie a big kiss and hug.
“That answer enough for you?”
There was a banging at the door. This time I reached for the Greener, stood up and cocked it. Marta walked to the door unlocking it. In walked Bill, from Wells Fargo. When he saw the shotgun pointed at him, I thought he was going to pass out.
“Telegraph, Mr. Forrest. I was told it was urgent and to deliver it to you,” he paused, swallowing a big gulp, he said, “Would you mind pointing that gun somewhere else?”
I took the telegram and said, “Thanks, Bill.” He turned and walked back out.
“Well, read it,” ordered Molly.
“It’s from the Wells Fargo office in Silverton. ‘The last of the ore is at the mill…stop…should be ready to ship in five days…stop.'”