Such a youth could come from prison and succeed. He might even become king though he was born in poverty… He might become the leader of millions and be very popular. But then the next generation grows up and rejects him! So again, it is all meaningless, like chasing the wind.” –Ecclesiastes 4:14,16 (NLT)
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It was nice to see Molly astride Two-Bits again. That horse doesn’t get worked enough, and Molly doesn’t get out enough. The day was cool with cotton ball clouds dispersed through the blue Colorado sky, just enough to bring shade from the June sun. We had ridden a little over an hour from Durango where there was a place on the Animas River where we had picnicked before; a large flat boulder that jutted out into the cascading waters.
I pitched a blanket down and was smoothing it out while Molly brought the picnic basket to set down. There was a slight breeze, but not enough to worry about the blanket being tossed in the wind. The horses were picketed where they had access to a little stream that flowed into the river along with plenty of fresh grass to nibble on. There was a spot near the rock where I began to build a fire. You can’t have a picnic up in the San Juans without a little fire and coffee boiling.
While I was doing that Molly pulled out the fixins. “Come on Miles, let’s eat while the coffee’s boiling. I’m hungry,” encouraged Molly.
I didn’t need any more encouragement than that. She was smiling as I sat down on the blanket. “Go ahead and pray, Miles. Then I’ll dip some egg salad for you. Sorry I didn’t have any potatoes.” She knew how much I enjoyed potato salad, but the eggs would do.
Smiling, I looked at the towels lying to the side where she had the bowl and a jar of pickled beets wrapped. I let her fix my plate, putting the egg salad and beets on it, then a leg and breast from the fried chicken she brought. “Lord, You sure are good to us. We are so underservin’ of Your care and blessin’ and forgiveness, and are thankful that You are mindful of us. Thanks for all You do for us, and for this food we’re about to eat. In the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ — Amen.”
Not waiting for her sayso I bit into the chicken. While my teeth were still in the chicken before tearing off a piece I looked over to see her smiling at me. With that I acted like a he-bear tearing that chicken apart and chewing on it, growling while I did so.
“You’re terrible,” she chided, but I noticed that she was not too delicate with her piece.
It didn’t take us long to devour our food. “Go check the coffee, while I see if there’s anything else in the basket. With that encouragement, I jumped up and down to the little fire. The coffee was boiling. I waited a little longer as I wanted it strong enough to taste. Sure don’t want my coffee weak. When I came back there was a large piece of cherry pie sitting, waiting for me. I handed Molly both cups while I sat down.
While eating the pie, I told her, “I need to go back to Silverton tomorrow or the next day at the latest. I need to check on the new marshal and his deputies.”
She sipped her coffee, then asked, “When is the trial for this McGinnis fellow?”
“Next Monday,” I replied, drinking the last of my cup. “I’ll be back for it.”
A wry smile appeared on her face. “The Lord willing…” and she left it at that.
We stayed for several hours. On the side away from the current there was a pool of water. Molly took off her boots and socks and waded in it for a spell, and of course she tried to splash me while I sat on the rock watching her. I had kept the coffee going so when she finished her antics in the water, I poured her a cup.
“It’s been good, Miles,” she said, coming over to the fire and drying off her feet with one of the towels. I handed her a cup. “Water’s cold.”
“Yep, it’s been a fine day. Don’t get many of these,” I replied.
“Not just the day, but the life…”
For some reason she came beside me and pulled my collar down where she could see my latest wound. “Another scar, Miles, I declare.”
I gave a little chuckle. “As long as the Lord allows me to collect scars I won’t mind. It’s that time He allows ol’ Scratch to put one straight into me. Well, I don’t worry ’bout that…