I was cleaning up the dishes while Mark was reciting a poem. [Casablanca]  He was having a problem getting the right jesters with the right words.  He thought maybe he might want to be a writer.  I reminded him he wanted to be a stagecoach driver.  "That was last week, before Miss Adams gave us this assignment on poetry."  "Well son, being a writer is a fine thing.  But any profession you choose, the only way to be a success at it is to work hard, give it everything you got."  I told him he could study later.  I needed to go into town and get Razor shod and he could pick up the books Hattie ordered for him. 

When we got into town we saw Micah and stopped to talk to him.  I asked him to come to dinner tonight.  He told me he who would like to but he had a prisoner, Carl Miller, in his jail.  He was the Kansas bank robber.  Miller was to be extradited to Wichita tomorrow.  He was anxious to get rid of him.  I asked him if he was expecting trouble.  "I'm always expecting trouble when I'm holding a man like Miller," said Micah.  Mark started asking me what it meant to extradite a prisoner when we heard a cowboy holler "Yahooooo."  The cowboy threw a whiskey bottle in the air and slid off his horse and headed into the saloon.  I told Mark that I thought I had just seen Tom Benton, my old army captain.  I told him to go on ahead to Hattie's, that I'd be right back.  Mr. Hannabury was setting there at the time and asked Mark who that man was.  Mark told him who he was and that he and I had done special work behind enemy lines during the war. 

He was just getting ready to have a drink when I said "alright Benton, turn around."  He quickly turned around with his gun drawn.  He was surprised to see me.  It's been a long time.  We started reminiscing.  He asked me if I remembered that turkey shoot we had entered in Denver.  I had beaten him.  He told me he had improved quite a bit since then.  He bet me he could shoot the tops off of every bottle on the top shelf.  He started shooting.  I grabbed his gun from him. "What's the matter with you?" I asked.  He laughed.  "You've changed Luke, lost your sense of humor."  I told him I wasn't the one who changed.  I told Sweeney  we'd settle with him later.  Just then Micah came in.  "What's going on here Sweeney?"  "I guess he had one too many," said Sweeney.  Micah told Benton he was under arrest.  I told Micah he was a friend of mine and that I could vouch for him. "Suppose we talk about this in my office," said Micah. We headed for his office.  I told him there was no need for this.  "Lucas, when a man's as drunk as your friend he should cool his heels in jail for the sake of everyone."  "He's not that drunk," I said.  Benton then staggered out into the street and  into a cowboy riding a horse. "Not that drunk, huh," said Micah. We then helped him to Micah's.

What a time I had trying to talk Micah into leaving Benton go.  I knew he needed help.  I just couldn't leave him there.  "The usual binders fifty dollars.  You willing to pay it to have him in your custody?" "He's a friend Micah."  "Fifty dollars," said Micah.  "Fifty dollars, how's twenty five?"   "Fifty dollars and that's flat!"  Said Micah.  "That's my store money," I yelled.  Micah agreed as long as Benton behaved himself.  "If he starts shootin' up the town again, you'll answer to me." 

Micah released Benton in my custody.  "Alright Benton. Your friend here's vouchin' for you with cash on the line."  Benton didn't want to leave, he wanted to sober up in jail.  But I just had to help my friend.  As we left the Marshal's office Benton's singing Laredo.  I told him he'd feel better once he got a hot meal.  I started to take him towards the hotel to get cleaned up.  "Lucas, will you listen to me?"  He carefully told me that for the past two years he's been working for the federal government. He told me that Miller, the prisoner in the cell, robbed the stage carrying the government mint and they still haven't recovered the money.  He had been traveling with Schroeder and Morgan all this way and he planned on breaking Miller loose tonight.  I bailed him out before he had a chance to talk to Miller.  He didn't have a chance to tell me before or he would have.  So now we had to get him back into that jail. We ended up in a street fight.  He told me not to tell Micah until he got back in that cell block with Miller.  Micah came out and took Benton back to jail.

Schroeder and Morgan came out of the saloon to watch the fight.  After it was over they asked Mr. Hannabury who the big man was?  "Oh that's Luke McCain.  He sure walloped that other fellow didn't he?"  Hannabury laughed.  "It seems kinda funny them fightin' like that.  Seems that he and the fellow he whipped were once good friends. Luke's son said they hadn't met since the war when they were doin' some secret work for the army." 

"This time your gonna stay put.  No bonds, no friends, no nothing.  Clear?"  "Clear," said Benton.  "You sober?" Asked Micah.  "No sir!"  "Well no singing either," said Micah.  After Micah left Benton took a derringer out of his boot. "That's gonna get us out of here Mr. Miller."  Miller asked him who sent him.  He told him Schroeder and Morgan.  They were suppose to meet them tonight at midnight on the south road.  He asked Miller about the money from the Denver mint.  He said it was stashed up in the hills and he was the only one who knew where it was. 

I went over to the Blacksmith's to help with my shoe for Razor.  Schroeder and Morgan knew something was up and decided to ask me some questions.  They jumped Nils and me from behind.  They knocked out Nils and held a gun on me.  They tied me up and slapped me around.  He wanted to know about Benton.  I wouldn't tell them anything. He had it all figured out.  They knocked me out and then gagged me. 

       I had to figure out a way to get loose.  I knocked over the forge which had hot coals in it.  The coals fell to the ground.  I managed to position myself so I could burn the ropes apart and get free.  I headed for Micah's.

Schroeder and Morgan got the jump on Micah.  They went to set Miller free.  Benton is upset with them.  "Your supposed to meet us at the south road," said Benton.  "You sure you would have made it Benton?" Asked Schroeder.  "Of course!  Why did you jump the gun?"  Asked Benton.  "Cut out the gabbin' and get me out of here," said Miller.  Schroeder started to tell Miller about Benton, but I butted in.  "Alright, turn around, nice and easy!"  Schroeder and Morgan quickly turned around and started shooting.  I was ready for them.  I shot and killed both of them.  Benton then drew his derringer and held it to Micah's head. Benton told me he had the Marshal covered.  I was to throw down my rifle and come in with my hands up.  I did as he said.  I left Benton and Miller escape.  When Miller was out of sight Benton threw me the keys to the cell.  Poor Micah, he just stood there, confused.  "Lucas, you've got a lot of explaining to do," said Micah.   

Tom completed his mission.  He recovered the money from the Denver mint and took Miller into custody. He was to report back to Denver for another assignment.  Before he left we had him over for dinner.  Mark wanted to recite his poem for him.  Mark did quite well.  I was proud of him.
 
 "The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.
Yet....." Mark was stumped.  He forgot his next line.
 Benton finished it for him..... Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though childlike form.

"Well gee, you recited that real well.  Guess I better do a little more studying," said Mark. "You did real well Mark.  That just happens to be one of my favorite poems," said Benton. 

Mark told Tom he wanted to be a writer.  "Do writers travel?" Asked Mark.  "Sure they do.  I know  one writer who travels all over the world.  As a matter of fact he's got the same name as you, Mark, Mark Twain."  Mark thought that was neat.  "Sure Mark, you can travel as a writer if you want.  As a matter of fact I once knew a fellow who lived in St. Louis who was a writer.  Lived there all his life.  Never left town once," I said.  "Really," questioned Mark.  "What sorta writer was he?"  "Well he wrote the addresses on the labels down at the sauerkraut factory."  We all  laughed.