Post by tyche on Jun 5, 2013 15:24:16 GMT -8
The Night of the Injured Man
He had been drifting for a long time. Was he dying? He didn’t know, he didn’t even know if he had a body anymore but it didn’t seem to matter. Sometimes noises seemed to filter through the veil-like greyness, but they didn’t impinge on him. He drifted. It was easy to drift, to forget, to let go.
Something cold, like a piece of defrosting liver touched his right hand, the shock made him open his eyes and he found himself staring into a pair of irises as blue as the summer sky. ‘Angel’ he thought dazedly before his eyes closed again and he sank back into the greyness.
She’d been driving into town, Lucifer riding next to her on the seat. She turned down the dirt track, just as Lucifer jumped off.
“What the hell-” she muttered. She made the horse halt and then got off the cart. Marching across to the dog she was determined to grab the hound’s collar and haul him back to the buckboard, tethering him in the back if necessary. Lucifer was sitting quietly now, waiting for her. She put a hand out to take his collar and then she saw the hand. A gasp broke from her throat and then she dropped to her knees. Clearing away the brush, she found herself looking at the corpse of a young man. He had to be a corpse, no-one could lose that much blood and live. Then she had to stifle a sudden scream as his eyes opened briefly before closing again.
Patting Lucifer on the head she murmured, “Good boy.”
Returning to the buckboard she took a large black bag from the seat and walked back to where the man was lying. Then she saw the rider, his clothes were travel stained and he looked weary but she noticed that his eyes were everywhere. She swallowed hard and gripped the handles of her bag harder, realising at the same time that if he chose to kill her and the man at her feet she was totally defenceless.
“Excuse me, Ma’am,” the horse and rider were only a yard away from her now, and she had to look up into the sun to look at him. As if sensing this he dismounted and tipping his hat, asked, “Have you seen a black stallion wandering hereabouts? I’m looking for the rider.”
She swallowed and replied, “I’m sorry Sir, I’d love to help you but I’m afraid that I’ve got other priorities at the moment. There’s an injured man over there and if I don’t get him back to my home to treat him he’ll die.” She pushed past him and knelt beside the stranger. She heard the man behind her and then an audible gasp and the name, “Jim!”
He moved so that he was kneeling on the other side of the man’s body and she looked up at him, “You know him?”
“I’ve been looking for him for three days,” he replied, “My name’s Gordon. Artemus Gordon.”
“Teresa Fairchild,” she replied, He noticed her eyes did not lift to meet his neither did her hands move being totally occupied with bandaging the supine man between them. She carefully touched each of the bullet wounds and then she frowned, “I’m going to need to operate,” she finally raised her eyes to meet his and spoke, “We need to get him back to my house.”
“Done,” Artemus lifted the young man into his arms and laid him in the back of the buckboard as gently as a newborn babe. “I’ll travel in the back with him,” he said shortly.
“Thought you might,” she replied, she snapped her fingers and called, “Lucifer, come!”
Instead of jumping onto the seat next to her, Lucifer leapt into the carriage and lay down next to the injured man.
“Faithless hound,” she muttered.
She jumped down from her seat and said quickly, “Bring him through, Mr Gordon.”
Artemus laid his friend down on the table she indicated and she said, “I’ll go and scrub the operating table.” She smiled, “If you could remove his clothes for me please.” She slipped through the door at the other end of the room. Ten minutes later she emerged through the door and said, “Ready.”
Carefully Artemus laid the limp form of his friend down on the sheet covering the table and turned to Teresa, “Where’s the anaesthetic?”
She shook her head, “I daren’t. He’s too weak, he wouldn’t survive.” She checked the pan boiling on the stove, “But you can monitor his heart for me.”
Artemus nodded, “Need any help with the operation?”
Teresa was putting a mask on over her mouth and nose and shook her head, Artemus watched fascinated as she shook out her instruments and then slipped on her gloves. She looked up at Gordon and he nodded, she noticed that the end of the stethoscope was against his friend’s neck and the knuckles were white.
She cut and swabbed, feeling with as much delicacy as possible for the bullets still embedded in the man’s body. She looked up, Gordon was still holding the diaphragm of the stethoscope against his friend’s neck but his other hand was resting on the side of his head. As she looked at the picture she realised that Artemus was almost grey and swaying on his feet.
“My God!” she whispered, “You’re connected to him – you’re giving him your strength!”
He looked up and a slight smile twitched the corner of his mouth, she shook her head and realising that this was not the time to demand answers, she turned back to the man lying in front of her.
Fifteen minutes later Teresa finished, “It’s done,” and then she had to catch Artemus as he collapsed. Quickly she eased him down onto the floor and then covered her patient, feeling for his pulse she was pleased to find it stronger. Then she knelt down beside her second unconscious patient and felt for his pulse. That too was steady and she had a feeling that soon he would be regaining consciousness. She took a glass and tipping a powder into it, filled it up from the jug. Then she tucked a pillow under his head and took his hand.
Ten minutes later Artemus opened his eyes and stared up into Teresa’s face, “Feeling better, Mr Gordon?” She asked gently.
He sat up and groaned. She handed him the glass, “It’s a mild analgesic,” she said quietly, “Should help to clear your head.” He nodded and drank it in two swallows.
He got stiffly to his feet and put a hand to his head as the room revolved. She put out her hand to steady him and he said, “Have you drugged me?”
“Sit down,” she said softly, easing him into a chair next to the operating table. “No, I haven’t drugged you. Take a few deep breaths and your head should clear. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Artemus nodded and then noticed that Teresa had covered his friend with a blanket and tucked a pillow beneath his head. Slipping his hand beneath the covers, he took his friend’s hand and squeezed it gently.
Everything had changed. He was no longer floating in a formless void, things seemed to be happening around him, the grey was punctuated with red and yellow flashes and where they touched it hurt. He wanted to move, to tell whoever was doing this to go away, that he was happy in the soft greyness. Then he felt something, or someone very close to him. A hand resting on his head, ‘He had a head?’ he wondered dazedly. ‘Artie’ he thought desperately, wondering where his friend was and half-despairing that he’d never see him again. The hand remained where it was and the flashes seemed to ease. He still couldn’t move and he wondered, probably for the first time where he was. Sensation faded again and then he was half-aware of a hand taking his own and with that a feeling of peace stole over him, it seemed to be easier to breathe and for the second time in what seemed like a millennium he opened his eyes. The same irises were looking down at him and a hand was holding his, the mouth moved and he was sure it spoke, but nothing seemed to make sense. The eyes were the deepest cerulean he’d ever seen. With that thought still uppermost in his mind and still wondering if it was an angel bending over him he finally relaxed and drifted into darkness.
Teresa handed him the mug and a soft groan came from the supine figure. Instantly Artemus was on his feet and bending over his friend, “It’s all right, Jim. You’re safe.”
Teresa leant over him and resting her hand on the crown of his head she looked into his eyes and said gently, “It’s all right. You were hurt, but you’re recovering.” Sea-green eyes opened to look into hers and then they closed again.
“Is he?”
She took her patient’s pulse and shaking her head found her voice, “He’s asleep. Give it another half-hour and I think you can move him.”
Artemus nodded, he sat down again, suddenly feeling very tired. Teresa watched him as he took his friend’s hand and laying his forehead on the blanket closed his eyes.
She laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “I’m just going to clean up, Mr Gordon.”
“I think I’ll stay for a bit,” he managed a weary smile and Teresa nodded. Gathering up her things she slipped from the room leaving the two men together. Sighing softly, Artemus laid his head on the blanket and was almost instantly asleep.
She had gone outside to feed and water her two horses when she saw the stallion, its saddle and bridle glinted in the moonlight and she wondered if this was the horse Artemus had been looking for. Although it was obviously thirsty the animal was also skittish and every time she came within a few feet would lurch away as if shot. She bit her lower lip thoughtfully, the animal’s eyes were rolling in fright and she knew that it was probably both thirsty and hungry. Going into the barn she took out two apples and then moved to stand in front of the fence. Then she waited. Gradually the animal came closer. Slowly, as slowly as she could she raised one of the apples and held it out, the horse’s eyes rolled and she watched as it pranced towards her, delicately as a cat. She just had time to feel the whiskers on its nose before it had snatched the apple and cantered away.
She grinned into the darkness and then spoke, “That’s no way for a well-trained stallion to behave,” she said, “If you want the other one you’re going to have to come here and be nice.”
It snorted back at her and she laughed, “Come on,” she said, “You can have the other apple and a stall all to yourself. Your own hay and water, be a good boy and come over here.”
The horse’s ears pricked forward and gradually it began to walk towards her almost like a cat picking its way through puddles. Eventually it was standing in front of her. She lifted her hand and laid it against the horse’s cheek, it started slightly and then as she handed him the other apple, she leant forward and blew into his nostrils. This time it almost jumped out of its skin, but stayed where it was, quivering in anticipation and crunching on the apple. She stroked its nose and then said gently, “So, are you going to be a good boy and come into the stable with me?”
For an answer he nuzzled her and she patted his cheek. Turning, she slid her fingers into the cheekpiece and as she looked up she saw Gordon standing watching her, the stallion obviously recognised him because his ears twitched forward and he whickered a greeting.
“Is this the stallion you were looking for?” she asked gently, reaching up her other hand to stroke its nose.
“I would not have believed it unless I saw it,” he murmured, “That’s some skill, Teresa.”
“Call me Tess,” she smiled, “I’ll just get him stabled and take that bridle and saddle off.”
“I can do that,” Artemus replied, coming down the steps, “Go and watch my friend.”
She nodded and then he was patting the animal’s nose and talking to it, “Blackjack,” he patted the horse’s neck, “where did you disappear to?”
Giving the stallion a final pat, Tess turned and lifting her skirts slipped back into the house. West still lay on the gurney and she laid her fingers against his neck to feel a pulse. It was slow and steady. She carefully checked his dressings and was relieved to find that they were holding. She stroked the hair away from his face and sighed softly she had no idea if he was even aware of them.
He was drifting again. Darkness had held him for a while, but he was drifting in greyness again and for the first time he wondered when the scenery would change. He tried to move, to lift his hands and it was then he realised with shock that he was as helpless as a fly in amber. Panic seized him and he fought to move, to sit up, to do anything! Nothing worked although he was aware of the tears sliding from beneath his eyelids. He heard a muffled noise from somewhere beyond the greyness and then the tears were being gently wiped away and despite nothing being able to penetrate this grey mist he distinctly felt someone stroking the skin beside his eyebrow. The touch was soothing and the lost feeling began to dissolve, he would have smiled had he been able to move, but even that was denied him and the panic set in again. He managed to swallow and wondered again where in the world he was.
As she pulled the blanket up over his supine figure she was shocked to see the tears sliding from beneath his closed lids. Gently she wiped them away and with the back of her first and index fingers begin to stroke the side of his face. Gradually, his ragged breathing settled.
Artemus came up behind her and asked quietly, “Do you think James is well enough to move now?”
She nodded, “If you can carry him, Mr Gordon, I’ll lead the way.”
Artemus lifted West into his arms with such tenderness it left her speechless. She led the way into the back room and pulling the covers back allowed Artemus to put his friend on the bed and carefully pull the covers over him. She watched as Artemus laid his hand on his friend’s forehead and almost instantly Jim settled.
“How long have you two been able to - to do this?” she asked quietly.
“A couple of years,” Artemus replied, his eyes never leaving Jim’s face, “It works both ways – but we’ve never really discussed it.”
“It touches on the supernatural,” Tess replied, “and people are afraid of that.”
“But you’re not?”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t,” she paused “but as Shakespeare wrote, ‘there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ It does scare me, but I think that’s a healthy thing.”
“Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5. Why does it scare you?” Artemus said wonderingly, and thought, What’s an intelligent woman like you doing out here on her own?
“Because humans should not be too close to that which touches on the beyond. We must feel with our bodies as well as our minds.” She paused, “I’m somewhat concerned about his unconscious state, I would like to try something if you’re agreeable-”
“What?” Artemus surveyed her quietly.
“He still hasn’t regained any cognizant level of consciousness and I suspect that this is because of his blood loss. There’s an old Chinese Tract that suggests feeding someone iron filings to compensate for this.”
“How would we get the iron filings?” Artemus asked.
“I’ll go file down a horseshoe and then make up some applesauce and you could feed it to him.”
“I’ll file down the horseshoe,” Artemus replied firmly, “Do you want to try it tonight?”
Teresa looked out of the window, “Are you sure?”
Artemus nodded, “I think so,” He ran a hand through his dark hair, “I want you to know that I trust you, Tess.”
Teresa stood up and managing a wan smile she stood up, “Go and file your horseshoe,” she said quietly, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Thank you, Artemus.”
He was still floating in this grey mist, he was aware of people around him moving and he could hear voices high above him but not only did he not recognise any of them, he couldn’t understand them either. He swallowed and tried to move although it seemed to him that he was still pinioned, he blinked away frustrated tears and then the memories assailed him, the telegram delivered to The Wanderer – his disbelief at the words printed on the paper – the sudden decision to take action into his own hands, knowing the outcome. Memories of moving around the varnish car, taking guns from the rack in the galley, putting an explosive watch into his waistcoat pocket, strapping on his Winchester .45 and then taking a final look around the varnish car. He swallowed again, the memories were coming thick as flies and he whimpered as he remembered the bullets entering his body, and he was falling. The last thing he remembered with any clarity was trying to ask about Artie and then he was alone in the vast greyness shaking and sweating as if he had a fever.
“Hellfire and damnation!” Artemus swore violently as he bent over his friend. Jim was writhing on the bed, whimpering noises coming from his throat. Artemus took his friend’s hand and tried to offer what comfort he could, Jim was locked in some nightmare, and for him there was no escape. He’d shaved the horseshoe as Tess had asked and returned to the sickroom to see Jim writhing on the bed as if demons had possession of his soul. Quickly setting the bowl on the table he sat on the bed and took West’s hand in both his own, his brown eyes dark with anguish. “Tess!” he yelled.
The door opened and Teresa was crossing the room to sit on the other side of the bed, she took West’s other hand and looked across at Artemus, “You’ll have to hold him down,” she said tightly, “If I let him thrash he’ll split those stitches.”
Nodding uncomfortably Artemus released Jim’s hand and put both on West’s shoulders. If anything Jim’s struggles became more intense and Artemus had to fight hard to keep him down on the bed. “How long do I have to do this?” he demanded, looking across at Teresa holding one of West’s hands.
She looked back at him, her blue eyes bright and fierce as a Bunsen burner, “He’ll stop soon, I wish we could penetrate whatever nightmare he’s locked into.”
“Will the iron filings help?”
“That should compensate for the blood loss, but that may not be all of the problem.” She ran a hand across her face, “I know you would give your heart’s blood to see him well.”
“And all that is in me,” Artemus murmured, his grip on West’s shoulders easing as his friend, No, my brother, Artemus thought dazedly, relaxed back onto the bed. He took West’s hand again to try and convey some comfort to his obviously distressed partner.
Tess laid West’s other hand on the coverlet and stood up, “I’m going to have a look through his clothes, there may be something there that will give us a clue.”
She was carefully searching the pockets of his jacket when Artemus walked through into the kitchen, as she felt in the pocket of his patterned waistcoat she found the watch. Artemus’s face became tense, “Tess, put that jacket down and bring the watch over to me.”
“Why?” she queried, the timepiece resting in the palm of her hand, then her face cleared, “Oh, it’s a piece of ordnance. Yes?”
Artemus nodded relieved that she’d understood what it was, and hadn’t turned into a hysterical female when she’d discovered its true identity. She laid the jacket down and quietly walked across the kitchen floor to lay it in Artemus’s hand. For the first time he regarded her suspiciously, There was definitely something about her. Cool, calm and collected even when she thought she was holding a grenade. No screaming, crying or trembling. He cleared his throat and turned back to the watch. It looked like Jim hadn’t had a chance to use it. She watched as he set the timepiece carefully down on the kitchen table and then took out what looked like a small jewellery roll which upon opening turned into the smallest set of tools she’d ever seen. He sat down and selecting one of the tools set to work.
Tess watched him for a few moments, her heart in her mouth, thankfully he didn’t seem to have noticed her slip, turning back to the waistcoat her fingers felt a piece of paper wedged into the bottom of the right hand pocket. Easing it out she unfolded it and laid it on the table.
“Oh God,” she said slowly.
Artemus looked up, her face was very white and there were tears in her eyes as she looked down at the yellowed paper. He glanced at it and asked, “What is it?”
Teresa looked up at him, “The reason your friend doesn’t want to live. It’s an official telegram informing him of your death.”
“What?” Artemus gaped at her.
She slid the telegram across to him and watched as his face changed colour. He nodded tautly and then turning back to the watch took a small tool and putting into the innards of the watch twisted it. There was a small twanging noise and then he was on his feet and striding across the room. She could see the anger in every taut line of his body. Moving swiftly she was at the door before he put his hand on the handle, “No,” she said quietly.
For a moment she thought he might assault her, then his voice rasped, “I have to try and get through to him. My God, he thinks that I’m dead!”
“It’s not getting through,” she told him, “that’s why I wanted you to file down the horseshoe, remember?”
“And then what?” he demanded, finally looking at her, and for the first time she could see the shine of tears in his eyes.
“We’ll see.” She laid her hand on his arm, “Have faith.”
“I-I don’t think I have any, any more,” he said thickly, turning away to drop into the chair and bury his face in his hands.
To his surprise she walked across to the range and pouring him a coffee placed it in front of him and laid her hand across his own, “Wasn’t it you who always said West was indestructible?”
He looked up at her and she saw something new in his eyes, “How do you know that?” She half turned and he grabbed her arm.
“Easy, Mr Gordon,” she said, “I’m just getting myself a coffee. I think we need to talk.”
She set her mug on the table and then sat down. She took a sip and Artemus got the impression that she wished it was something stronger. Finally she lifted her eyes to meet his, “I was sent here by my Father. How much do you know about Mr West’s disappearance?”
“I came back to the Wanderer four days ago,” Artemus replied thoughtfully, “Colonel Richmond was furious. Jim had handed in his resignation and badge and then left. He’d taken Blackjack and just disappeared from the face of the earth. I’m assuming that you weren’t looking for him?”
She shook her head, “No, I’m sorry Mr Gordon. I was sent here for what I thought was a completely unrelated reason.”
“What was that?”
“There was talk of cattle-rustling at a ranch near here, The Lazy S. My father thought that I would be a useful contact and that I could maybe find out some information that a male agent wouldn’t have access to. So he set me up here as someone who had nursing training and got me employed with the local doctor. The logic was that if anyone came in with suspicious wounds then I’d be in a better position to report back to my father and Colonel Richmond.” She paused to take a sip of her coffee, “however, reading that telegram, there may be more to this than just cattle-rustling. Someone knew the format of Secret Service Telegrams, enough to fool Mr West. Someone wanted him dead.”
“But it doesn’t make sense,” Artemus pulled the yellowed piece of paper around so he could view it, “I mean, cattle-rustling sure, but that’s not something that either Jim or myself would be involved with – that’s a job for the local sheriff.”
“What happened when you got back to The Wanderer?” Tess asked thoughtfully.
“Richmond said that West had done a bunk and resigned from the Secret Service. When I protested that Jim wouldn’t do something like that without good reason Richmond replied that he’d just resigned. No reason. He’d even had the gall to take government property.”
“Blackjack?” she queried.
“Yes, although since he wouldn’t let anyone but Jim ride him I couldn’t quite see how they could class the stallion as government property.” Artemus ran a hand across his face, “I wanted to go after him, to try and find him but permission was refused. I was ordered to start searching for the goddamned horse. Here in Serenity of all places.”
Tess tapped the paper thoughtfully, “And Colonel Richmond didn’t mention this telegram at all? Not even to you?”
“Is that important?”
“It may be,” Tess smiled tautly, “Keep that safe, Mr Gordon. Now let us go to Mr West and try to get this applesauce down him.”
The greyness was beginning to get on his nerves although there didn’t seem to be much he could do about it. He felt a gentle hand on his forehead and then there were sounds high above him that he still couldn’t decipher. He tried to snarl in despair, why the hell was he stuck here? Was he in limbo? A harsh laugh erupted from him sounding loud in the silence, Just his luck, to be stuck in limbo all alone because of the life choices he’d made. The laugh turned into a sob halfway through and he wondered where Artie was. I hope he made it to Heaven, he thought, No-one should suffer this.
Tess leant over him biting her lip, Jim seemed to be getting more and more agitated. She stroked the damp hair away from his forehead and he briefly settled but then turned away and a rough sob emerged from between his lips. She looked down at the supine figure and frowned. Then she turned to Artemus, “I said earlier that you were connected, he responds to touch, would he know you?”
Artemus looked thoughtful, “He might. What do you suggest?”
“Hold him.” She ordered.
“What?”
“Get on the bed and hold him. Try to get him to understand that you’re safe, that you’re alive.”
“And you-”
“Will try and feed him the applesauce.” She looked up at him, “We have to make him want to live.”
He was trying to understand the voices but still nothing made sense, then he felt himself being lifted and held against someone’s chest. A small thought wormed its way into his addled brain, If he could still feel things perhaps he wasn’t dead. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, Why couldn’t he understand anything? What the hell had happened to him? He tried to struggle up out of grey mist surrounding him and then suddenly he felt a hand on his forehead and the sensation was both familiar and terrifying and for almost thirty seconds he didn’t dare believe it. Something was gently pressed to his lips. Almost automatically he took a mouthful and swallowed. Applesauce? He thought curiously. He managed another three spoonfuls before a wave of relief coupled with exhaustion overcame him and he sank back into unconsciousness.
Tess eased West into a sitting position and taking off his boots Artemus climbed in behind his friend so that Jim was resting against his chest. Wrapping his arms around him he closed his eyes and gave in to the grief he was feeling. Teresa touched his arm, “It will be all right,” she promised
Artemus looked up, Jim was resting against his chest and soft whimpers were coming from between his lips, “What’s wrong with him?”
Teresa looked up, “Nothing’s wrong with him, per se, it’s the blood loss confusing him. “Put your hand on his forehead, you said there was a connection between you.”
Artemus nodded and as he did so to his amazement Jim’s thrashing and whimpers stopped. His breathing eased and he relaxed back into his friend.
Tess smiled at Artemus and pressed the spoonful of applesauce to Jim’s lips, to her surprise he took a mouthful and swallowed. She managed to get a further three spoonfuls down him and then Artemus felt his friend sag against him, as he dropped back into sleep. He looked up at Teresa, “That was unpleasant,” he remarked casually.
“It wasn’t him,” Teresa replied, “It was confusion caused by the blood loss. He’ll wake up in a couple of days and probably have no memory of this.”
Artemus gently laid his friend back down on the pillows, “You’re amazing,” he said slowly, “calm, cool and professional.”
“Try terrified, frightened and scared.” Teresa replied as she tasted the applesauce, “Mmmm, not bad. You shave a mean iron filing Mr Gordon.” She smiled, “I think he’s out of the woods now, if you want to go off somewhere and be sick-”
Artemus stared at her, “How did you know?”
She shrugged and said, “I saw your face, both when I was operating and when you were holding him. Go and clear your head. He’ll need you lucid when he wakes up.”
He was still in this grey void but somehow it didn’t seem as opaque any more, it was like the time he’d been blinded and he remembered the way his sight had returned, like a gauze curtain rising. This veil seemed to be doing the same thing. He opened his eyes and stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. He couldn’t tell if it was morning or evening, all he could tell was that he felt as though he’d been on an interminably long journey. He turned his head and saw the young woman sitting in the chair, her dark head bent over a book. He didn’t remember making a noise but she looked up and a soft smile curved the lips. Taking a glass of water she lifted his head and allowed him to drink. He had millions of questions but as he raised his eyes from the glass he saw the man standing behind the woman’s chair and speech left him. Despite his ‘self-contained’ manner his eyes filled with tears and he turned his face away, suddenly embarrassed by this open display of emotion.
She was only half-aware of his awakening although she knew when he turned his head. His partner almost certainly hadn’t slept and Artemus was on his feet and crossing the room as she held the water to Jim’s lips. It was as he raised his eyes from the glass that he saw Artemus standing behind the chair and looking at Jim’s face she realized the strength of the bond that held these two men together. His eyes filled with tears and he turned his face away.
Quietly she stood up, “Gently, Mr. Gordon.” She smiled, “Don’t let him split his stitches.” He never heard her leave the room.
Artemus sat down on the bed and drew his friend into his arms, Jim’s arms came up and wrapping himself around Gordon he buried his face in his brother’s shoulder and the tears that the normally private and self-contained James West would not cry poured down his cheeks and soaked the linen of Gordon’s shirt.
Artemus’s hand came up to rest on West’s head and stroke the dark hair, “It’s all right, Jim. It’s all right.” He could feel the shudders that wracked the body beneath him and hushed the terrors that threatened to overwhelm this man.
Eventually West lifted his head from his friend’s shoulder and looked up into Artemus’s face, “I-I thought I’d lost you.”
“I know,” Artie replied, “and I you.” He eased West back down into the bed and allowed the younger man to regain some composure.
“I thought you were dead,” Jim said, “the telegram from Colonel Richmond’s office-”
“I know,” Artemus replied, “I’ve seen it.” His hand grasped West’s forearm, “Glad to have you back, Jim. Go back to sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
West nodded and closing his eyes relaxed back into slumber. Artemus laid his hand on the coverlet and standing up went in search of Teresa. She half-turned as he approached and he swung her up into his arms, “I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, squeezing her so hard she thought ribs would crack.
“Mr Gordon, Mr Gordon!” she gasped, her hands on his shoulders, “put me down!”
For an answer he whirled her around the room until she was pink and gasping and then set her down on the floor next to the range. “You’re amazing!” He said, as he bent to kiss her forehead.
She stared up at him caught up in his joy and exuberance. Finally she shook her head and said, “I could not leave him there, Mr Gordon. Even if he had been a corpse.”
Artemus shook his head, “Yes, you could.”
“No, not with my training.” She looked up at him her face clear and open, “How do you think I know what you said about Mr West? That he was indestructible?”
Artemus sat down and ran a hand over his face, “I don’t know. I haven’t been thinking very clearly for the past few days.”
“I can understand that,” she replied thoughtfully, laying her hand on his shoulder, “But I thought you would have recognised my surname – Fairchild.”
Artemus stared up at her, “Colonel Fairchild?”
“His daughter,” she smiled, “for my sins.”
“And you were sent here to investigate-”
“The cattle rustling at The Lazy S – that may be a front for something else.” She bit her lower lip thoughtfully, “Whatever you may think of Colonel Richmond and Colonel Fairchild I don’t think they wanted you involved in this. Had they known about the telegram I don’t think they would have acted in the way that they did. I have to go into town tomorrow – apologise profusely to the doctor and tell him that I wasn’t feeling well and make some inquiries. Can you hold the fort?”
Artemus nodded, “I think so.”
Tess smiled, “Good. I’ll leave you to watch Mr. West – I’ll trust you to take care of him. Although-” she paused, “I probably don’t need to do that.”
Artemus managed a wan smile, despite his protestations, his exhaustion was finally catching up with him. Tess must have sensed this because the next thing he knew he was being helped to his feet and into the sickroom where West lay deep in slumber. Then she was sitting him down on another bed and removing his jacket and tie.
She knelt to remove his boots and then looked up to see Artemus looking down at her a strange expression on his face, “I’m sorry, you must think me foolish.”
She laid her hand on his and looked up into his eyes, “No. What you have is so rare that most people cannot understand it – and are not prepared to try. Have you ever read Kipling’s The Thousandth Man?”
He nodded slowly, and her face cleared, “That’s the relationship you have. Something like this only happens once a thousand lifetimes.”
“You don’t condemn us?”
“For being such close friends?” She raised a perfect dark eyebrow and he had to suppress a laugh that was part sob, “We’ll talk tomorrow,” she smiled, laying a gentle hand on the side of his face.
He nodded and then she was easing him down onto the bed. He felt her draw the covers up around him and reached out to take her hand, “Thank you,” he said thickly.
“My pleasure, Artemus,” she bent to kiss his hairline and he dropped almost immediately into slumber.
West woke uneasily. He frowned in puzzlement, he was lying in a bed and one he was not familiar with. He could feel a coverlet beneath his fingertips. Suddenly memory returned as if a bucket of water had been dumped on him – he remembered the Telegram – and then the sensation of being trapped in this mist that held him pinioned stronger than any of Loveless’s devices. He’d been fighting to break free and then joy of joys he’d felt his friend’s arms around him and Artie’s hand on his forehead and – and Applesauce? He frowned and then remembered opening his eyes and staring up at Artemus. There had been a woman there he was sure but then Artemus had drawn him into his arms and he hadn’t paid much attention.
Slowly, unsure if it had all been a figment of his imagination he opened his eyes. A young woman was sitting beside the bed. Her smile when she saw he was awake made him relax. “Good morning, Mr West.”
“Did I-” he wanted to say Did I dream it? But his voice was a croak. She lifted his head and held a glass of water to his lips, he drank thirstily and then she eased his head back down onto the pillows. He held her eyes and said the only word he could think of, “Artemus.”
The smile broadened and she gestured to her right. He turned his head and found himself staring at Artie’s sleeping figure. “Do you feel well enough to have some breakfast?” she asked, gently taking his hand.
“I-I remembered the applesauce,” he said wonderingly.
“Well that’s something,” she replied, “but I was thinking more along the lines of scrambled eggs and toast.”
“Is that what you’re having?” he asked quickly.
“I’ll make myself some bread and butter,” she shrugged.
“You won’t,” a familiar voice yawned, “Morning, Jim.”
Tess watched as her patient’s face lit up and then relaxed into a soft smile, “Morning, Artie.”
“I’ll make breakfast,” Artemus stretched, “and then you can get off into town.”
She rolled her eyes and stood up, or tried to but Jim’s hand on her arm stopped her, she looked down into sea-green eyes, “You found me?”
“Yes,” she said, sitting down again, “My name’s Teresa, Teresa Fairchild, but you can call me Tess.”
“I owe you my life,” he said slowly.
She shrugged, “As I told your partner, I could not leave you.”
Artemus laid his hand on her shoulder as he passed and she lifted her own to lay it on his, Jim noticed the gesture. Then they were alone.
“How?” West asked.
“You should thank Lucifer,” Tess responded quietly, “he discovered what I thought was your body.”
“Lucifer?” he queried in puzzlement.
“My dog,” she replied, her hand holding his own. “And then Artemus found us both.”
He nodded slowly, and then he said, “Did I cause you problems?”
She shook her head, “It wasn’t you. I think you scared your partner more than me.”
The door opened and Artemus entered carrying a tray upon which a pile of scrambled eggs glistened, golden and fluffy. To her consternation, Tess’s stomach growled.
“I think you’re hungrier than I am,” A genuine smile lit West’s face.
“Patients first,” she responded, “then staff.” Smiling she turned to Artemus, “Have you left mine in the kitchen?”
Artemus shook his head, “Certainly not! Let me put this down then I’ll help you to sit Jim up and get him settled with breakfast and go and fetch ours.”
Jim hissed in pain as Artemus eased him into a seated position and Tess added another couple of pillows behind him to prop him up. Artemus eased his friend down onto the pillows and said, “Do you feel well enough to feed yourself?”
Jim nodded and Artemus set the tray in front of him, “Now I’ll go and fetch ours,” he smiled at Tess.
Slowly, Jim picked up his fork and began to eat. When Artemus returned he set the same platter in front of Tess and then returned for his own.
When they were all seated Jim looked up at the young woman, “Fairchild – any relation to Colonel Fairchild?”
Tess looked sheepish, “My father,” she replied.
“So what are you doing out here?” Jim asked.
Tess looked across at Artemus and the older man shrugged, “I’d be honest with him, Tess.”
She swallowed, “I was sent here to check up on a ranch near here, The Lazy S, there were rumours of cattle rustling. Father felt that if I was employed as a nurse at the local physician’s then if anyone came in with odd injuries I could report back to him.”
“The Lazy S,” Jim swallowed, “That’s where they said you’d been killed, Artie.”
“So the telegram said,” Artemus replied dryly, “I’m just wondering why you didn’t check it, Jim.”
West managed a rueful smile, “There didn’t seem to be any reason to, the telegram looked like it came from Colonel Richmond’s office.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Teresa said, “I asked Mr Gordon if Colonel Richmond said anything to him about the telegram you received and he said that the Colonel didn’t mention it. Which makes me think it was fake, if he had received a copy of the telegram, Colonel Richmond would have told you. From what Mr Gordon told me, the Colonel was mystified at Mr West’s sudden resignation.”
Artemus cleared away the breakfast dishes and after settling him back down, Tess stood up and smoothing down her skirt turned to Artemus and said, “I’ll head into town, anything you want?”
“You’ll be all right?”
Teresa surveyed him quietly and then her eyes narrowed and she replied, “What do you think, Mr Gordon?”
Artemus nodded, “I think you’ll be fine. Don’t get into trouble.”
She nodded and then the two men were alone. Artemus looked down at his friend, “How you doing, Jim?” he asked gently.
“I seem to be wrapped up tighter than a mummy,” Jim yawned.
“Well you were shot five times – it’s lucky you’re alive. Get some rest, Jim.”
James nodded and closed his eyes, just before he dropped off he murmured, “She’s certainly someone special, Artie.”
Artemus looked down at his now sleeping friend, “More than you know, James-my-boy.”
Doctor Frazer looked up as she entered his surgery, “Tess!” he said in relief, “What happened?”
“Oh I haven’t been feeling very well,” Tess lied, “Sorry, Bob.”
“Come and sit down,” Frazer said, guiding her to a seat. Gently he examined her and then he said, “You look a little pale, perhaps you should not have come in today.”
“Oh I’m fine, Bob.” She smiled, “I’m just sorry I couldn’t help you.”
“It’s been very dull,” Dr Frazer smiled, “so you could have rested up today.”
“Well I have a couple of telegrams to send,” Teresa smiled, “and a bit of shopping to do.”
“Then go and send them,” Bob smiled, “I think I can hold the fort until you get back.”
She decided to let her superiors know that Agents West and Gordon were safe. Walking into the telegraph office, she picked up the pencil and began writing. Harry looked at the message as she handed it across and frowned, “Are you sure, Miss Teresa?”
Teresa smiled, the message she’d written on the form read, Have found the Lily white boys, one dressed in red; one dressed in green. What is your One-o.
“Would you wait for an answer?” Tess asked.
Harry nodded and then bent his head to the telegraph. She only had to wait about ten minutes before the machine chattered again and Harry bent again to his master. Tearing off a sheet of paper he called her up to the counter and handed her the missive. She lifted the sheet and read the message, Green grow the rushes-o. Watch for the symbol at your door and wait for the Six Proud Walkers.
Nodding she folded the paper and stuffed it into the pocket of her skirt. Walking across to the general store she stepped inside and her heart sank, Aubrey Crawford was at the counter. The slimiest weasel that ever graced the fair town of Serenity she thought, and if anyone was involved in the cattle rustling it would be him.
“Mr Crawford,” she said pleasantly.
“Miss Fairchild,” he tipped his hat to her and then said, “I thought you would be with Dr Frazer.”
“He gave me leave to get some supplies,” Teresa replied stiffly.
Arthur Binks, the proprietor of Serenity’s General Store smiled, “Miss Fairchild, how can I help you this fine day?”
Teresa took a small piece of paper from her jacket pocket and began reading, “Flour, sugar, tea, bacon, butter, milk and coffee please.”
“You have the buckboard with you?”
“Outside,” she slipped the list back into her pocket.
“I’ll have it loaded immediately, Miss Fairchild.” Arthur responded, “Do you want this on credit?”
“Please, Arthur,” she replied, “I’ll settle at the end of the month.”
He wrote down some figures and then nodded, “Certainly Miss Fairchild.”
She was about to leave the store when she heard Crawford at her elbow, “Miss Fairchild, as you appear to be free this afternoon perhaps I might be permitted to escort you to your next destination?”
Repressing the shudder that ran through her she pasted on her brightest smile and turning to him said, “Why Mr Crawford, I’d normally be delighted to take you up on your kind offer but I’m only stepping across the street to Dr Frazer’s office.”
“Then I’d be delighted to escort you there,” Crawford said offering her his arm, “and when you have finished I will accompany you home.”
Gritting her teeth and trying to ignore the bitter nauseous feeling rising in her stomach she slipped her arm through his and allowed him to escort her across the street.
Dr Frazer came from his examining room, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, “Tess!” he cried in delight as she entered.
“Everything all right, Bob?” she asked.
“Oh yes, young Samuel fell over in the street and scraped his shins. I was simply cleaning them.”
“Do you need me any more?” she asked tightly, hoping against hope that he would say yes, but to her overwhelming irritation he shook his head, “No, it’s been very dull. But I’ll need you next week. With the cattle drive coming in there are bound to be more injuries.”
“I’ll see you next week then.” Tess replied, conscious of her hand on Crawford’s arm, and feeling sweat prickling at the base of her spine.
“I shall take you home now, Teresa,” Crawford smiled like a shark and she felt bile rising in her gullet, “I’ll ask Mallins, my driver to follow us out to your homestead and then he can drive me home.”
He got onto the buckboard seat and offered her his hand which she pointedly refused, lifting her skirt with one hand and climbing up onto the seat. The journey home was nightmarish and she willed the miles away with every scrap of her being. When the house appeared she could have wept with relief.
Artemus watched the buckboard arrive – Tess was sitting in the passenger seat, her whole body tense as a bowstring, carefully holstering his gun he walked to the front door and opened it.
The buckboard drew to a halt outside the house and Artemus stepped out into the front yard, “Cousin Tess! I arrived and there was no-one here – so I thought I’d wait for you!” He helped Teresa down and slipped an arm around her waist, holding her close. Tess looked up startled at him and was about to step away but Artemus’s hand tightened. He turned to the man, “I’m Artemus Gordon, Teresa’s cousin all the way from Boston. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Aubrey Crawford,” the man’s lips curled in what Teresa was sure was a sneer, “You and Miss Fairchild-”
“Oh it’s been assumed since we were both children that Teresa and I would get married. We’re quite comfortable with the idea. Aren’t we, Sweetheart?”
Tess eyed him thoughtfully and then said sweetly, “You see why I was reluctant to let you escort me, Mr Crawford. Cousin Artemus and I have had an arrangement since we were babies.”
She thought Crawford would explode, his face turned a funny shade of puce and then he got down from the carriage and stalked across to his own buggy. Tess watched him go and when they were alone turned and buried her face in Gordon’s shoulder.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, feeling her slim frame shuddering against him, “It’s all right, he’s gone.”
She took a couple of erratic breaths and stepped away from him. “I absolutely loathe that man,” she said.
“I gathered,” Artemus responded, tactfully he handed her his handkerchief and waited as she wiped her eyes.
“You know that you’ll have to continue this subterfuge now,” Tess said quietly, “No doubt Crawford will tell everyone that my affianced has arrived from Boston and everyone will want to meet you.”
“That I can live with,” Artemus replied. “I’ll help you unload the supplies.”
“That’d be great, Artemus,” she smiled at him. “How’s Mr West?”
“Clamouring to get up,” Artemus complained as he got into the back of the buckboard, “That man is the worst patient I’ve ever met.”
“That figures,” Tess grinned as she took the sack of sugar from him, “we know all about you and Mr West.”
“We?” Artemus raised an eyebrow
Tess shook her head, “Oh no, you don’t get round me with that look, Mr Gordon.”
He smiled and turned back to unloading the supplies, perhaps Jim would have more luck. Tess had just taken the last bag of dry goods into the house and had returned for the milk churn. She was reaching up to take it down when Artemus jumped down and shook his head, “I’ll take it, Tess.”
Shrugging her shoulders she turned and walked back into the house. She heard Artemus jump down and the clank of the milk churn scraping against the buckboard.
“I’ll take it into the cool pantry,” he called.
“I’ll go and see how our patient is doing,” Tess called.
She walked into the bedroom to see Jim struggling to get out of bed. Crossing the room she dropped to her knees so that he was looking down into her face, “Jim, where are you going?”
A crooked smile touched his lips, “I was trying to get up, I thought I heard-”
“Everything’s fine,” Tess assured him, “get back into bed.”
He looked down at her and managed a smile, “I really should-”
“No,” she responded tautly, “Get back into bed. You need to rest and sleep.”
Jim looked down into her face and then sagged, “All right.” He allowed her to help him back into the bed. She watched as he relaxed back on the pillows and closed his eyes.
“How’s he doing?” Artemus was suddenly at her elbow.
“Being difficult,” Tess responded archly, she smiled at Artemus. “Perhaps you can convince him that he needs to keep still or he’ll start bleeding again.”
She slipped from the room and just before the door closed she heard Artemus say, “Are you trying to kill yourself-”
Jim’s eyes half-opened, “I heard voices, thought I recognised one of them. Was trying to get up-”
“Don’t,” Artemus ordered. “I can handle this. Go back to sleep or I’ll order Tess to drug you.”
Jim scowled, “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” Artemus replied grimly.
Something in his friend’s face made Jim stop. He nodded quickly and allowed Artemus to settle him back into bed.
“You stay there or I’ll find a way of tying you to it.” Artemus replied.
For once Jim decided not to say anything. He lay back under the covers, despite everything the attempt to get out of bed had taken more out of him than he’d thought. He shifted trying to find a more comfortable position and just as he was wondering when he could get up he was asleep.
Tess crept in quietly fifteen minutes later and looked down at the now sleeping man. She was still standing there when she felt Artemus’s hand on her shoulder, “He’s not a good patient is he?” she said.
“No,” Artemus admitted, “and I don’t know any way of keeping him still other than keeping him asleep for a week.”
She cursed softly under her breath and heard Artie laugh, “That wouldn’t work either,” he replied.
“I think we’ll let him sleep,” she said, biting her lip, “despite him being difficult and trying to get up, he might have heard something.”
Artemus nodded. She sighed and then said, “I’ll put the coffee on.”
Jim awoke later that afternoon to see Artemus sitting next to him, his friend was engrossed in his book and he had a chance to really study Artemus since he had been shot. Although Artie seemed to be his normal self, Jim could see the lines around his friend’s eyes and mouth that spoke of a tension that had almost been too much to bear. He looked up and when he saw Jim was awake, his face visibly relaxed, “Are you going to stay in bed now?” he asked semi-sternly, “I swear, Tess was going to manacle you to it.”
Jim smiled, “Help me sit up.”
Artemus stood up and with the ease of long practice, slipped an arm beneath Jim’s and eased him up to a sitting position. He watched as Jim gritted his teeth as his wounds pained him, Artemus tucked two pillows behind him and continued to hold Jim’s arm until the man’s ragged breathing eased. “See what I mean?” he said, his eyes holding West’s, “You’re in no state to go anywhere.”
Jim nodded reluctantly, despite everything he was forced to agree. There was a soft knock on the door and Teresa’s head poked around it, “I want to look at Mr West’s injuries,” she said gently, “or would you rather do that, Mr Gordon.”
“You have more skill than me,” Artemus replied, “But if you could use an extra pair of hands-”
“Always,” Tess responded. Her head disappeared for a couple of seconds and then she was backing through the door, a tray in her arms. She set it down on the table next to the bed and then bent over Agent West, “Now,” she said quietly, “This could be uncomfortable, so I could give you something to help you sleep through it.”
Jim shook his head, “No, thanks.”
She nodded and began turning down the bedclothes so she could examine the bandages. He watched her face as she undid his pyjama top, carefully examining her dressings. Eventually she looked up, “Well, your guardian angel must have a full-time job. The wounds aren’t haemorrhaging despite your attempt to get up this afternoon. You’re a very lucky man, Mr West.”
“Jim,” he said quietly, “although I think it’s more skill than luck. I owe you my life.”
“Consummate flatterer,” she smiled. “You said you thought you recognised one of the voices this afternoon when I returned.”
Jim frowned, “The man’s voice, it sounded like one of the men that shot me.”
“Are you sure?” Artemus asked quickly.
Jim shook his head, “No, that’s why I wanted to get up, I thought that if I got a look at him then I’d be able to identify him.”
“Can you remember what happened?” Teresa asked quietly.
“Up to the point I was shot,” a pained smile curved Jim’s mouth, “after that things are a little hazy.”
“You said that you got the telegram telling you that Mr Gordon had been shot and killed at The Lazy S,” Tess began.
Jim nodded, “I couldn’t believe it at first, I told the boy to stay while I verified everything. While he was waiting another telegram arrived from Colonel Richmond ordering me to stay with The Wanderer.”
“It was a trap,” Teresa stated slowly.
Jim nodded, “Yes, the first telegram was a fake, and the second I’m still not sure.”
“I think both were,” Artemus interjected, “did you see Colonel Richmond before you left?”
“I didn’t want to wait,” Jim admitted, “so I wrote a letter of resignation and then packing my pockets with devices I saddled and mounted Blackjack and then rode off.”
“They weren’t very happy when they found your letter,” Artemus explained.
“I think the term is furious,” Teresa smiled.
“I had to go after Artemus,” Jim explained, “I thought that even if he was dead then I could at least avenge him.”
“Obsession,” Artemus remarked looking at his friend.
“Oh, most definitely,” Teresa eyed him thoughtfully, she stood up, “I think you should rest now, Jim. We’ll talk later.”
Later when Artemus had cooked a supper of eggs and bacon and they were both sitting next to Jim’s bed, he felt well enough to tell them the rest of the story. He’d found the Lazy S without too much trouble and had attempted to ‘sneak’ up on the house to find out if Artie was in there. “They overpowered me before I could do anything,” he sighed, “I didn’t even have a chance to use any of Artie’s gadgets.”
“We know. I found one.” Tess replied. “An interesting piece of ordnance.”
Jim eyed Artemus and his friend shrugged, “I disarmed it, Jim. But Tess behaved with distinction.”
“A bomb in a pocket watch? That’s a minor thing,” Tess grinned, “Caltrops are the real bug bear.”
“When did you have to deal with caltrops?” Jim asked.
“The joys of my training,” Tess replied, “in the most inhospitable place this side of Heaven or Hell. But it teaches self-sufficiency.”
Artemus stared at her, “So this ‘We’ you keep referring are the others who were trained like you?”
“Uh-huh,” Tess grinned, “it may have been a great training complex but we all agree that it’s the most benighted place on earth.”
“How many of you are there?”
“A handful at the moment, but Phoebe’s working on it.” Tess replied, “after all even Rome started from small beginnings.”
“Eleanor’s one of you isn’t she?” Jim said suddenly.
“Eleanor Talbot?” Tess nodded, “Yes. You’ve met?”
“Twice,” Jim confirmed, “So you both work for Colonel Richmond?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Teresa replied, “the Colonel believes that we have a singular advantage.”
Jim half-smiled, “How?”
“We are the invisible sex Mr West,” Teresa regarded him, “which means that sometimes people will say and do things around us that they would not say around you.”
“You hate being an airhead don’t you?” Artemus said suddenly, “Eleanor’s the same. Bright, brave and beautiful.” He smiled, “which could apply equally to both of you.”
Tess scowled, “Yes, I’m not very good at basic rule number one.”
Jim’s forehead creased in a frown, “Basic rule number one?”
“The most intelligent thing you can do is not to let anyone else know how intelligent you are.” She sighed, “I don’t like being thought of as stupid.”
“After this I don’t think anyone in the Secret Service will ever think of any of you as being stupid ever again.” Jim replied.
“But our enemies should,” she pointed out. “Hannah does it so much better than I do.”
Jim raised an eyebrow, “Care to enlighten me?”
“Colonel Richmond’s daughter,” Tess replied.
“Another member of your organisation?” Artemus asked.
“Indeed,” Tess replied, “she works closely with my superior officer, Phoebe Howard.”
“Let me guess, Colonel Howard’s daughter,” Jim said slowly. “Do I get to find out who else is part of this organisation? I mean that’s four of you already and there must be more-”
“There are, but it’s the Colonel’s choice whether to tell you or not,” Teresa replied, “You already knew about Eleanor and you guessed about me, Hannah and Phoebe I could see no harm in telling you about them but the others, well that’s something else.”
Artemus nodded, “I see.”
Tess chuckled softly, “No you don’t Mr Gordon. But I am not at liberty to tell you.”
“What do we do now?” Jim asked quietly, his eyes flicking from one to the other.
“There’s something about all this that doesn’t ring true,” Artemus replied, “All this effort for cattle rustling. Doesn’t make sense.”
“It does seem to be a lot of effort for little gain,” Teresa replied, “And to kill a Secret Service Agent – that seems to me to be the height of folly.”
“I think there’s more to it than that,” Jim said quietly, “They planned the telegram informing me that Artemus had died – why? And if it isn’t simply Cattle Rustling then what is it?”
“Now that’s the question,” Artemus said. He paused and then leant forward, “Jim, did any of them say anything to you before you were shot?”
The man lying on the bed between them frowned, “Not that I can recall.” He managed a rueful smile, “Sorry.”
“This smacks of revenge,” Teresa said slowly, “but who and why?”
“Now that’s the real question,” Artemus replied. He stood up, “I think we’d better let you rest, Jim.”
“I’ll wash up,” Tess offered, “you sit with your friend.”
“Thanks,” Artie smiled.
Jim watched him for a few moments and then said, “I owe her my life, Artie. I don’t believe that anyone else could have saved me.”
“I think all of Richmond’s Girls have medical skill – some more than others. I’d like to know who taught them,” Artie remarked, “I think they could teach me a few things.”
Jim nodded slowly, his wounds were beginning to pain him and sensing this Artie held the laudanum to his lips, “It’ll probably make you sleep,” he warned.
“Stay?” Jim slurred.
“I’ll stay,” Artie promised. He watched as his friend’s eyes closed and his face relaxed. The door opened and Tess poked her head around it, “Help yourself to coffee,” she said softly, “I’m just going to go and groom the horses.”
Artie nodded, “Thanks, Tess.”
“My pleasure, Mr Gordon.” And then he was alone.
She was gone for about an hour and a half and when she returned he heard the splashing of the pump in the sink. Leaving Jim sleeping, he got up and walked into the kitchen, “Have you any ideas for a plan of action?” he asked.
“Not really,” she replied, turning to him and drying her hands. “What about you?”
“Not sure,” Artemus said, pouring himself a cup of coffee, “you?”
She poured herself a cup and walked across to sit opposite Artemus, “I suppose it’s time for me to compile my final report and exit gracefully. It appears that the cattle-rustling story is merely a ruse.”
“But a ruse for what?” Artemus said quietly, “I do not think you can ‘exit gracefully’ as you put it, we must play kissing cousins for a while yet.”
“But then I think we must leave,” Tess sighed, “Mr West won’t be fit for a few weeks – neither of you are in any state to investigate this.”