Since the wedding of Amos Martin’s daughter, Agatha, to Javier Ballesteros, a Mexican lad, there has been tension building in certain quarters in Durango. The newlyweds were gone from the scene, but not before there was considerable confrontation. Even on the way to Taos there was an attempt to break up the marriage. Now, the priest who had performed the ceremony had been severely beaten, the parish church covered with paint and red markings of X. There was even a warning given to Marshal Forrest in the form of the painting and marking of their cabin and the scarring of Hawk. Join me, in another exciting tale from yesteryear…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Hurry, Marshal! Doc says to come quickly; it’s the priest!” yelled young Jimmy Hopkins.
I jumped up, saw Jimmy and Molly, then headed towards them to meet them in the yard. “Here,” I reached out to hand the spur I found to Molly, “hold this!” Then headed off jogging with Jimmy.
“What’s wrong,” I asked as we hurried away.
“Didn’t say, just said to get yuh down here as fast as possible. Yuh need to run faster, Marshal.”
I didn’t figure five or ten minutes would make much difference, plus I didn’t want to be completely out of breath in case something more sinister was waiting for me. The Catholic church sat on the far side of town between the white section and the Mexican section. Most of the time there was little squabble between the two groups; they seemed for the most part to get along fine.
Arriving at the priest’s quarters, I slowed, took in a few deep breaths of air, then entered. Doc was sitting beside Father Damian who had one eye partially open. When I entered he tried to move his head to see who I was, and I saw pain grip him by the countenance on his face.
“Easy, padre,” whispered Doc. “Don’t move, it’s the marshal.”
The priest released Doc’s hand and feebly offered it to me. “I’m sorry to be causing you so much trouble, Marshal.” He murmured, then began to lick his lips. Doc reached to the little table for a glass half full of water to which he helped the man drink gently reaching behind him to lift his head.
“Now, father, do you know who did this?”
A tear formed at the one eye that was open. “Take it easy, Miles,” warned Doc. “This man’s been through quite an ordeal. He’s fortunate to be alive.”
Before I knelt down beside him, I noticed that Jimmy was in the room. “Get on home, Jimmy,” I ordered, reaching in my pocket for my coin bag.
He was shaking his head when I offered him a dime. “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he muttered, then looked at me, eyes wide open in a state of shock. “Will he live?”
Doc reached out to pat the boy on the arm, nodding and adding a wink. “He’s going to be all right. Now you get along home, and thanks for helping out.”
Jimmy started to back out of the room, then when he hit the doorway he turned and ran. I turned my attention back to the padre. Grasping his hand again, I asked in a softer voice, “Father, do you know who did this?”
He started to shake his head, when a sound came from Doc, who added, “Don’t move your head, keep it still.”
“No, Marshal, all I know is that there were three of them. They wore some kind of sack over their heads, flour sacks I believe.”
“Could you recognize their voices? What did they say?”
“Sorry, Marshal, I can’t be of any more help. They asked where the beaner went, and Martin’s daughter. When I told them I didn’t know they proceeded with beating me.”
I got close to the padre, I could see that he was getting tired. “Are you sure they said, ‘Martin’s daughter’?
He squeezed my hand, and whispered, “Yes,” then his eye shut.
Doc quickly moved me aside, then proceeded to check his heart and breathing. I was now standing and Doc came up to me. “He needs to rest now more than anything. Unless there’s more damage to his head than I can see, he should recover. Let’s move outside and let him rest.”
“Did he tell you anything?” I asked.
“No more than he told you. He said he didn’t know anything about the red X except that the X is Saint Andrew’s Cross. As far as he knew there was no symbolic meaning to it.”
“Well, Doc. you watch yourself. This has taken an ugly and more personal tone.” Then I proceeded to tell him about the cabin, the oats, and the scarring and painting of Hawk. “I’ll be waitin’ at Amos Martin’s door when he opens in the mornin’, you can be assured of that. I have Father Damian mentioning Martin, and that was the last words of the man I shot on the train.”
“You never mentioned that before…”