And on a cold night, two under the same blanket can gain warmth from each other. But how can one be warm alone?” –Ecclesiastes 4:11 (NLT)
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“Miles, we can’t leave Silverton without a marshal,” he paused, looking towards the front office. “Lucius is an all right jailer, but he can’t handle the likes of Silverton,” he paused again, then added, “so far no one has been able to.”
I looked out to the office, Tanner was gone to fetch breakfast for the prisoners. He had calmed down quite a bit unless he had to come feed McGinnis or our guest, Mr. Smith. “Worst comes to worst, I can stay here if you think you’re able to get McGinnis down to Durango.”
Charlie had only been sitting up for a couple of days, and McGinnis began yesterday. Smith would be the problem. “I could stay until McGinnis is tried and hung an’ keep Smith here with me. Then after the hangin’ you could come back and I’ll take Smith to Durango. That way at least one of us would be in town.”
“Marshal, I ain’t gonna hang! You wait and see!” yelled McGinnis from his cell. “Where’s my food, I’m hungry!”
Doc Minton had been in and said that the prisoner was capable of traveling by train or wagon, and that Charlie should be able to handle the ride as well. If McGinnis was chained to a seat, Charlie could rest. Doc said he was coming along fine considering all the blood he lost.
“Charlie, what say we take our situation upstairs to the One who has the answer for us?” He nodded and we said a prayer there for God’s guidance and help in needing a marshal for Silverton.
“Hey! What’s that you’re doing?” Praying? You best be doing plenty of that, you’ll need it!” McGinnis scoffed. “I’ll be spitting on your corpses before long.”
I didn’t pay any attention to McGinnis, but he had the ability to grate on my nerves some. However, I noticed that Smith took notice of what we were doing, leaning forward, attempting to listen. “You guys really believe that stuff?” he asked in a sincere tone.
Standing I went across the aisle to stand by Smith’s cell. “The Lord’s the only hope we have in this life, and for sure the only hope we have for eternity,” I paused looking over at McGinnis where seemed to be carrying a perpetual sneer. Turning back, I continued speaking to Smith. “Life is short, shorter than others for some, and it is a comfort knowin’ that the Lord is on your side.”
While in the midst of my talk with Smith, I heard pounding on the office door. It was too early for Tanner to return. I quickly drew my pistol then headed for the door. Peeking through the shades on the window I saw that it was Osain Beavin, the miner who was in the way of Kid Malloy’s bullet. Without holstering my gun I unlocked the door inviting Beavin inside then stepped out looking up and down the street. Up on the corner I saw a man standing that gave rise to suspicion, but I decided to ignore him.
After locking the door, I put my gun away and turned to Beavin. “What can I do for you, Mr. Beavin?” I inquired observing that his arm was in a sling.
He gave a half-smile, then said, “Goin’ down tah Durango with yuh.”
A thought rushed through my mind. “How’s the arm?”
“Doc said I could take the sling off today or tomorrow. It’s some sore, and I have to be careful movin’ it too quick, but it’ll be alright,” he hesitated, then smiled continuing. “Ol’ Heinie at the “Iowa” said if I couldn’t sling a hammer he had no need for me. I will give him credit, he did say that when the arm was better to come see him, there may be an opening. Well, Marshal, I’ve got to eat between now and then.”
For some reason, I blurted, “Have you ever considered bein’ a marshal?” His eyes widened, and he started to speak but no words came. “You know the people, you know Silverton, and,” I looked at him, “you’re tough.”
“Well, now, I…”
Charlie heard me talking and came walking from the cell area. He nodded at Beavin. “So you’re our new marshal…glad to have you aboard…”