The Saga of Miles Forrest

Trouble is brewing, tensions are rising, and it looks like things could boil over in Durango.  Alejo has been beaten up by Frank Moser and Miles is on the hunt.  Javier and Agatha are hiding out in the church and waiting for the time they can leave for his job down near Taos.  Join with me now in another exciting tale from yesteryear in the Saga of Miles Forrest.
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       I pounded on the door of Martin’s Hardware hard enough to rattle the glass.  I knew he was in there because there were lights on.  Upon receiving no answer, I pounded on them again and heard a voice, “We’re not open yet, come back later!”
       One more time I jarred the door, then stepped back ready to kick it in, when a scowling Amos Martin opened it hollering, “I said, we’re not open yet.  Oh,…”
       I didn’t let him finish as I jammed the barrel of the Greener in the pit of his stomach, bringing an “ooof” from him and pushing him back.  I followed with another jab, then another until he was back inside his store.
       “Forrest,” he began, with pain in his voice along with venom, “there’s no call for that!”
       Giving him one final jab, I replied in outrage, “And there’s no call to be beatin’ up a kid!”
       The only expression I got from him was a little widening of his eyes.  He may not have done the deed, but he knew about it.  “Where’s Moser?”
       “Forrest, I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about,” he muttered, the venom still in his voice.
       Not saying anything, I replied by sweeping a dozen or so glasses off the counter near me with the Greener.  After that I stepped to where there were a half dozen lamps placing the Greener on the edge of the counter next to them.
       “You’ll pay for the damage!” he barked.  I tapped one of the globes, not hard enough to break, but he got the idea.  “Moser’s not here!”
       “You’re ’bout the lowest cur I ever did see!  Sendin’ a man to beat up a kid.”
        He let out an oath.  “Big deal, he’s only a Mex…”.  I didn’t let him finish, but swung the Greener catching him on the jaw, staggering him.  Lifting the barrel I was ready to thump him a good one, when he whimpered in pain, “I don’t know where Frank is right now, and that’s the truth.”
       “Why’d you send him to beat up the kid?  Face up to Marshal Ramirez yourself, if you have an issue with him.”
       He was rubbing the side of his face where the barrel of the Greener had landed.  “I just told him to rough him up a bit, give the Marshal a scare, not to beat him up.”
       I moved closer to Martin, bringing the shotgun down to my side.  “You don’t know Marshal Ramirez very well.  You’re fortunate that I got here before he did.  Now, listen, and yuh better get this through your thick skull.  If that kid is crippled or has any other threatening injuries, I’ll be back and do the same to you.”
       “You can’t threaten me like that,” he muttered.
       “No threat, just a fact,” I stated.  “Whatever happens to the Ramirez family, or for that fact, anyone else in the Mexican quarter of town, I will hold you personally responsible.”
       I turned to walk out, then stopped, smiled then took a swipe at his legs with the Greener catching him on the shinbone.  It was not hard enough to break it, but it would hurt.  Instead of going out the front, however, I moved to the back.  Moser and another had left on horses and by chance they might be in the back of Martin’s store.  Upon getting outside, I did see the tracks but the horses were gone, moving down the alley toward the river.
       Moving through the alleyway back towards the jail, I began to shake my head and whisper, “Lord, you’re goin’ to have to help me.  The ol’ anger was buildin’ up an’ it was all I could do to hold it in.”
       Doc Jones was coming out of the cell where Alejo was lying.  He looked over at me, “He’ll be alright, but he’ll be hurting for a week or so.  Maybe a couple of ribs broken, but mostly bruises and scrapes.  He’s resting right now.”
       “Lucas, you stay with him,” ordered Doc Jones.  “Miles come with me, let’s go down to the diner.  I want to talk with you.”
       We walked outside and just stepped down off the boardwalk into the street heading for the diner when we heard shots.  They were coming from the barrio…