Whatever exists was given its name long ago, and it is known what man is. But he is not able to contend with the One stronger than he.” –Ecclesiastes 6:10(HCSB)
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He stood before me, a solid dark figure with a heavy coat, scarf around his neck, and hat pulled down low. However, his face was plainly visible, the deep-set eyes that were almost a gray color rather than blue, square jaw, heavy brown moustache, and a hint of a smile at his lips. “McBride! What in the world are you doing here?”
Snow had started to fall, but I wasn’t noticing it as much as the man in front of me. “Come in, get out of the cold,” I said opening the door wide to let him enter. It was then that I took notice of the snow.
Shrugging his shoulders, he removed his scarf, then looked toward the table where we had been enjoying pie, coffee, and conversation. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bust up your party,” he said as he was unbuttoning his coat. Then he saw Molly, Betty, Marta, and Luciana. “Sorry ladies, my manners are on the poor side,” he apologized, removing his hat.
I offered to take his coat, but he shook his head, then placed it on top of a table. I saw the eyes of Charlie and Mateo go to McBride’s gun. The sign of a good lawman. He saw it too and the semi-smile appeared again.
“Here, let me introduce you to my friends. Listen up, folks, this here is, uh, Hollister McBride with the Colorado Rangers.”
He gave a little bow of the head to the ladies, then straightened up as I introduced all of the men present. I sort of lingered when I came to Finegan. “This is, Cop, uh, Boyd Finegan.”
Finegan reached out his hand, but McBride simply nodded his head. Rev. Chapman spoke up, Mr. Finegan is recovering from a severe blow and, I might add, a severe pounding by the Lord on his body and soul.” That brought a chuckle from most of those around the table.
The light revelry was broken up by Mateo. “Sorry, to leave this cozy circle, but someone has to be walking the streets protecting fine citizens like you.” Mateo put on his coat, then stopped next to McBride. “Nice to meet you. I would like to la chara with you, but duty calls.” He turned, walking to the door.
After he left the diner, McBride turned to me, “He has a slight limp…. Results from the job?”
“Shot in the line of duty. It was serious, but Mateo wouldn’t give up. Weather like this,” I pointed to the windows. “Causes him some pain, but like he told us, he has to make his rounds.”
“Sit down, Mr. McBride. Miles get him some coffee,” ordered Molly as she scooted back her chair from the table. “I’ll find you a piece of pie,” she chuckled, then continued, “I always save Miles an extra piece in the kitchen. He won’t mind sharing it with you.” The information brought a groan, and an outright yelp from Doc.
“Thank you, Ma’am, but call me Holly.” He turned his attention to the men, smiling as if waiting for some remark.
Doc pulled on his ear, then muttered, “Miles, as long as you’re up, why not fill our cups as well.” It wasn’t a question, but a direction I was to take. He then spoke to McBride, “What brings you to Durango, if I might inquire?”
He smiled again, not at Doc’s question, but at the last piece of mincemeat pie that Molly set before him. “Let me taste this, then I’ll answer you’re question, Doctor Jones.”
It didn’t seem to bother him that all eyes were on him cutting the pie, scooping a bite up with the fork, bringing it to his mouth, which he hesitated, looking up over his fork at us, then stuffed it in his mouth and began to chew, then roll it around in his mouth then chew some more. He turned to Molly, “Ma’am, this must be what manna tastes like an’ I sure hope the good Lord is takin’ note of this an’ is plannin’ on makin’ you one of the heavenly cooks.”
That brought a good round of laughter, both because of the statement and the blushing of Molly. “You didn’t tell me about Mr. Mc, I mean Holly, Miles.”
He picked up his cup, took a sip, then asked, “And just what did Miles tell you about me?”
“Uh, that’s a story for another time,” I sputtered.
Charlie interrupted, “Mr. McBride, I really never heard of the Colorado Rangers until Miles told me. Why is that?”
“That’s a very good question, Sheriff. The Rangers have been around since the War of the Rebellion,” he paused looking at each of us, I assume to get a reaction. When none came he continued, “In the early years it was quite successful in its mission to protect gold and silver for the Union cause. Since that time, it has been a hit or miss organization, sometimes used only on the whim of the Governor.
He forked another piece of pie into his mouth, chewed it down, then took a deep swallow of coffee to wash it down. “I, along with good men like Miles, plan to make it into a viable law enforcement organization….”