There is a time for everything, a season for every activity under heaven… A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones. A time to embrace and a time to turn away.” –Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4-5 (NLT)
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With the shotgun ready I took tentative steps forward towards where the voice came from. It was quiet…very quiet. I could hear only the crunching of the ice under my feet as I moved. There was that ominous warning, so I moved warily. Suddenly I stopped, looking down I saw a lump of a man lying in the snow, slush, and ice. Moving close enough that I could nudge the body with the barrel of the Greener; I poked at him. No movement, no sound.
I bent down to examine the body. It was Barnes and he was dead. Standing back I turned to look back down the alleyway. “Doc! Come on up!”
Doc scurried up the alley to where I was standing. It was hard to see in the darkness, the only light was coming from above as we were between two buildings. Doc stooped to get closer to the body. Quickly he withdrew his hand. It was covered in blood.
“Help me turn him over,” he ordered.
Squeezing by Doc, I moved down to the feet of Barnes. When he nodded we lifted to turn the body over. “Hard to see here, but it looks as if one of those pieces of buckshot hit his jugular. I’m thinking the running pushed the lead into the vein which caused him to bleed out.”
“So if he hadn’t run, he might have lived?” I questioned.
“Possible. Hard to know. If the shot had already penetrated, probably not, but if it hadn’t I could have picked it out,” he paused as he stood. “Let’s go ahead and drag him out.”
That meant me as there was no room for two men to walk side by side. I handed Doc the shotgun, then picked up Barnes’ heels and began to pull him about ten yards to the entrance of the alley. Coming to the light, I stopped to peer around the buildings making sure the way was clear.
“I’ll go get Parker, if you want to stay with the body,” he muttered then took off before I could object.
While waiting for Doc and the undertaker Parker to arrive I tried to work the situation in my mind. First, I was beaten, then Molly attacked. Then this random shooting, killing, seemingly one of the men who was out to get me. “Lord,” I whispered, “you have to help me work through this.”
It must be some sort of vendetta or retribution. But who…?
An hour later, Doc was sitting with me in the diner joined by Charlie Gold. As we all sipped our coffee, I looked over at Charlie. “Do you know anything about Mick Barnes?”
“As I recall, he showed up in late summer, maybe August, and went to work for the Broken Drum,” he paused to take a swallow. “I couldn’t say if there is any connection between him and Dixon or not.”
“Well, I’ll start there,” I muttered and started to get up.
“Hold on, Miles. Let me go talk with him. You don’t have the best relations with the Broken Drum,” said the Sheriff. “And I’ll let Mateo know what happened when he comes on duty. I know he was out late last night putting down a couple of barroom brawls.”
He stood, donned his coat and headed on out. Doc was scratching the side of his face, then muttered, “So you don’t have any idea?”
Shaking my head, I replied, “Could be any number of people. I’ve made a few enemies in my time.”
“Anyone just released from prison?” he suggested.
“I’ll send a telegram to Canon City, and also Blasco. They may give some light on who it might be.”
We sat there in silence for a few minutes; I refreshed our coffee. Then the sound of the door opening caught my attention. That’s why I always sat where I did, so I could see who came in the entrance.
One of the men I hadn’t seen in several years, but I didn’t recognize the other man. He hadn’t changed much, except to look more surly than in my past dealings with him. It was…