Dreaming all the time instead of working is foolishness. And there is ruin in a flood of empty words. Fear God instead.” –Ecclesiastes 5:7 (NLT)
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I tried to get comfortable, but that’s hard to do on those old wooden bench seats in the passenger car. I used my jacket, and Osian gave me a blanket to help cushion my hip as I sort of slouched down on the seat. The conductor frowned that I was taking up two seats, but my badge made him not say anything, just grunt. John Smith was with me and I will say he helped me up the steps and into the car. I didn’t handcuff him, but also didn’t give him a gun.
Osian had brought us to the station in a carriage he picked up from one of the liveries in town. I appreciated the fact that he personally drove me to the station and didn’t delegate it to one of the deputies. If he survived, he’ll make a good lawman. Bill Martin, according to Doc Minton, would be laid up for over a month, and probably longer before he could go back on regular duty. He could help out Lucious in the jail, and do paperwork for Osian. Then again, he might decide that his marshaling days are over. I wasn’t able to see him before I left, but told Osian I’d be back in a couple of months and that the Sheriff would be making his scheduled rounds. But I also told him that if there was something urgent not to hesitate to contact me.
Molly would be waiting for me when the train came into the station as I had sent her a telegram, or had Lucius do it for me. I also sent one to Charlie telling him that I was bringing John Smith with me. I had sort of come to the thinking that he should be set free. I gave Charlie the name of Jesse Moreland, the rancher who Smith said he worked for. I’m sure Charlie would be checking that out.
“Thank you Lord,” I muttered a short prayer as the train pulled from the station.
“What was that?” questioned Smith, turning partially around as he was in the seat in front of me. “Were you talkin’ to me?”
I smiled, adjusting myself. “No, just a little prayer thankin’ the Lord that I’m on this train headin’ home. I remember the time when it took two days to get down to Durango. I wouldn’t be able to make that ride in my current condition.”
“Hmpf, from what I heard Doc say you shouldn’t be makin’ it now.”
Shakin’ my head, “Nope, it’s time to be gettin’ home.”
He was still looking back at me. “You have something else on your mind, Smith?”
“Uh, Marshal, I just want to thank you for not makin’ me ride in cuffs. They’re not comfortable, an’ well, it’s downright embarrassin’.”
I looked him right in the eyes, holding my stare for several seconds before answering. “Mr. Smith, I’m takin’ you at your word. I’m hopin’ you’ll not disappoint me and make me shoot you before we get to Durango.”
“No, Marshal, you can trust me,” he paused and was silent, still looking back at me. Then he spoke again, “And I reckon yur right, the Lord is good. I could be dead. You could be dead,” he paused, then shaking his head he turned back around.
I was plum tuckered out. My wounds hurt, especially the one over my hip. I couldn’t find a position where I was comfortable and able to find relief. I had to trust Smith, and the Lord, for I knew I would sleep most of the way. The Greener was leaning against the side of the car not far from my head and I laid my hand on the butt of my pistol.
I woke up at the water stops due to that blasted horn blowin’, but went right back to sleep and didn’t wake up until the stop at Hermosa. From there it wasn’t far into Durango. Arriving at the station, I saw Charlie with Lucas waiting. I couldn’t see Molly but I was certain she was there. Smith had to help me to my feet as I was stiff from sitting and my hip was throbbing. He grabbed my shotgun, and my eyes opened wide, waiting. “It’s alright, I’m just carryin’ it for you. Put your arm around me shoulder.”
He had the Greener and if I put my good arm around his shoulder, I would be helpless. Guess I had to trust him. I prayed silently, “Lord, don’t let me be wrong.”
As soon as Charlie saw me on top of the steps, he rushed to help Smith get me down. Once reaching the platform, I took the Greener from Smith who released it willingly, then looked for Molly. She was walking toward me from where there was a buggy. My face lit up with a big smile. Such was the reason for coming home. “Come here,” I said, opening my arms. She hesitated, looking me over and worried about my wounds, then gently pulled me close to her. Oh, the comfort, that did more for my aching wounds than any salve the doctor could have given me, and it calmed my soul much better than laudanum ever could.
“Let’s go home, Miles. I’ve stew on the stove, and Emelda sent up some of her cheese enchiladas.” We moved slowly to the buggy, with Lucas following behind. Between the two of them they got me situated. Lucas told Molly that he’d be up in a little while to take care of the buggy.
I groaned as I sat back, but there was a smile on my face…