Anything else you can tell me about the man?” I asked, hoping that the livery man might be more amiable since the marshal had left.
He shook his head. “Like I said, I don’t pay much attention to those who come and go.”
“Do you remember if he was shot?”
“Marshal, from my recollection, no person came into the livery bleeding. I would have noticed that, but again, I don’t pay much attention.”
I gave him a little wave indicating that he could go back to his work, whatever that might be. There were three hotels in town and I could check their registers, or if it was my man he might be seeking a doctor. I started back up the street to find something for supper thinking about that marshal. He sure didn’t make the town feel like home. “Lyles Hampton,” I muttered on my walk. The name sounded familiar. I would go ahead and eat, then maybe check the other hotels. The man was carrying my bullet, maybe that would be a persuader to quit his evil ways and get on the straight and narrow.
Shots were fired a distance away. I took a couple of quick steps towards the sound, but caught myself–old habits die hard. Not my town, and I wasn’t going to make it my jurisdiction. Now, I told myself as I stepped upon the boardwalk leading into a cocina, that doesn’t mean if I don’t see a wrong being committed I wouldn’t step in, we all have that responsibility, but I wouldn’t interfere with the town marshal. Hampton, I shook my head.
I made that cocina my place to eat while I was in Taos trying different things that I could tell Molly when I got home. They had good food, not any better than Emelda’s, but they had one thing they called a chili relleno that caught my fancy. Three days later I was back in Durango. I’d wait a couple of days before confronting Martin. Maybe he would make a slip and give himself away. I was not worrying for by now Agatha and Javier would be settled in.
It was good to be home. Charlie was out investigating some cattle rustling. Seemed a small herd headed for Telluride had been stolen. That meant no fresh meat for the people and miners there, but also some small rancher was out of his money. That was the nice thing about sheriffing–helping others. Not that I didn’t think I did as a U.S. Marshal, it was just different for often I did not see those against whom the crime was committed, I just went after the miscreants.
Molly had baked me a butterscotch pie when I returned and I was sitting at my regular spot in the diner, by the stove as it was still cool in the mornings. The coffee was always there, and I was enjoying the company with my wife. Doc Jones was up the canyon delivering a baby. So we were sitting alone. Maybe after I finished my pie, I’d go up and see Mateo and Lucas at the jail.
“What’s wrong, Miles?” The question caught me off guard. “You were just staring off into space looking over the rim of your cup.”
I took a quick sip, I hadn’t realized what I was doing. “Nothin’, at least nothin’ that I know of.”
“You were off somewhere’s, I was just wondering,” remarked Molly.
Honestly I couldn’t remember what I had been thinking about, so I gave her a blank stare telling her so. I scratched my head, then pulled at my moustache after which I got up to get a refill. Grabbing the pot I made a motion if Molly wanted her cup warmed up, then I filled mine.
Upon taking my place at the table again, I told her that nothing was going through my head, I was just staring. For that I received a smirk. “There is one thing, however,” I started, “I met the marshal in Taos, and his name keeps going through my mind like I should know it. I know I have never met the man before, but still…”
A couple of customers came in and Lola, Marta’s niece, went over to wait on them. With the baby, Marta hadn’t been working as much and Lola was doing a good job. She had a great demeanor about her, and was always friendly with the customers.
“Molly, have you ever seen the ruins?” I asked abruptly. The thought came out of nowhere, and before she could answer I added, “We could take a week, pack up and I could take you to see them. Two-Bits needs some work, I don’t know the last time she’s seen a saddle.”
She gave me a look. “What brought that on?”
I took a deep sip, “I don’t know, it just hit me. We haven’t been anyplace in a while. I don’t care to take you up to Silverton, and I know you don’t like Denver, so we could go out to the ruins. It’s not too hot yet, and the streams should have plenty of water.”
“Plus, I need some time alone, in God’s great cathedral to think and ponder, and want you with me. Time is passin’ us by and we need to see some things together before we get too old to sit in the saddle.”
That brought a chuckle. “You mean before I get too old to ride.”
I didn’t mean that at all, but decided that I should now take another bite of pie. “Let’s plan on leaving next week, I do want to see Amos Martin. The man who died had a name on his lips as he was dyin’ that sounded like Martin. I want to confront him with it.”
“I don’t know why he, or anyone else is like that,” uttered Molly.
I shook my head in answer, then Mateo stepped through the doorway…