Post by Paradox Eyes on May 3, 2009 2:24:00 GMT -8
“THE NIGHT OF THE “TOIL AND TROUBLE”
CHAPTER 1: “No Deposit, No Return”
The tension in the small saloon was nearly palpable as the two men verbally tested each others metal.
“Just how good are you with that pistol Senor?”
The answer came with a foreboding chill in it’s tone. “Good enough. Good enough for you, for your employer or anyone else who cares to find out.” The man who made himself known as Cam Rowan traded an icy stare with the bandit.
This particular bandit, who gave no name of his own, was obviously the superior of the small group that currently populated the saloon. He had been engaged in conversation for the last twenty minutes with this stranger who come to the saloon looking for work. “Perhaps, I do not believe you Senor. Perhaps…I will require proof of this.” Cruel lips drew back in a nasty grin. The teeth revealed beneath the heavy black mustache were in surprisingly good condition. The rest of the bandit’s filthy unkempt appearance was not.
“Look, I heard there was work for a good gun hand and good pay. If your boss isn’t interested, I’ll move on. It’s of no mind to me. But I think he should at least meet with me and decide for himself.
I don’t feel a need to impress his peons.”
The bandits face hardened and his eyes flashed in anger. “You should be careful what you say in here Senor. Death waits all around you. You will do as I ask.”
The bandit then looked around the saloon. He traded glances with his men and his eyes came to rest on an older gentleman at the bar. The well dressed man stood quietly tending to his beer and his own business. The bandit strode over to the bar and addressed the white haired man. “You! Give me a five dollar gold piece!”
The older gentleman turned around. Dark brown eyes looked out from under bushy white eyebrows that complimented the equally bushy handlebar mustache. “You talkin’ at me son?”
“I am not your son Senor. Who are you and what are you doing in this cantina?”
“Well, what’s it look like I’m a doin’? I stopped in to wet ma dusty whistle.”
“I want to know what you are doing here in Crow Flats.
“Well, not that it’s any of your business…I’m a stock buyer from Abilene on my way to Senora. This place was the first watering hole I seen in two days. Now why don’t ya run along and let a man drink in peace!”
The bandit placed the barrel of his pistol between the old man’s eyes. “I told you to give me a five dollar gold piece, did I not?”
“Well, what makes ya think I got one?”
“The cut of your clothing speaks to me. Now give it to me.”
“Are you robbing me?!!” The old man didn’t flinch as the gun pressed into his forehead.
“Senor, if I wanted to rob you, you would already be dead and your pockets would be empty.” He cocked the hammer. “I am only “borrowing” it temporarily.” The nasty grin grew larger this time.
“Why didn’t ya say so to begin with?” The dark eyed old man reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a gold coin sandwiched between his index and middle fingers. He dropped it into the bandit’s waiting palm.
“Gracias Senor.” The old man only shot him a dirty look in return.
The bandit returned his attention to Cam Rowan. “You will step outside with me Senor Rowan.”
Rowan pushed his hat up slightly, still looking at the bandit with a decided air of contempt. He then stepped forward and they exited the cantina. Most of the patrons of the small saloon got up and followed. The older Texan made his way to the door as well.
The bandit stood facing Rowan in the dusty street under an already blazing hot morning sun. He spoke his challenge.
“Senor if you are as good with that pistol as you say you are, then a little target practice should be no problem. But…if you miss Senor…then I think the grim reaper and the village coffin builder will have a little business today. Entiendo?” Five other gun hands surrounding them drew their pistols. “You see Senor Rowan, we are not fond of braggarts in this town. So if a man says he can do something, he should be able to. Si?” And with those words, he suddenly threw the coin into the air.
The rattlesnake handled pistol left the holster almost faster than the eye could follow and the instantaneous single shot blasted the coin from it’s flight path. Rowan’s gaze had only strayed from the bandit’s face for a second and back again. The pistol spun and returned to its holster. One of the lesser bandits walked over to where the coin had landed and picked it up. He returned it to his superior.
The bandit held the coin up and his dark eye stared through the hole in it at Rowan. Then he began to laugh. “Very nice Senor…very nice!” He handed the coin to Rowan. “I will speak to my employer and send someone back for you. You will wait here at the cantina until they come for you.”
Rowan’s only answer was a small disdainful snort and he turned back toward the saloon entrance. The onlookers disbursed.
As Rowan passed the old Texan, he tossed the now perforated coin back to him. “Your change old man.”
“Show off!” Artemus Gordon hissed quietly through the white mustache. A small smile tugged at Jim’s lips as he caught Artie’s eye.
“That’s some mighty fine shootin’ son! Mighty fine indeed!” Artie’s old Texan exclaimed loudly as he examined the ruined coin.
“Thanks old man. How about I buy you a whiskey to ease that bullet wound?”
“Well now! That’s right neighborly of ya! I wouldn’t mind that at all son!”
They reentered the saloon. “Two whiskeys barkeep!” Jim barked the order at the man behind the bar and motioned toward a table in the corner. He and Artemus sat down.
“What did you find out Artie?” Jim spoke in a low voice.
“A pleasure to meet ya Mr. Rowan!” Artemus spoke loud enough for everyone to hear and then lowered his own voice. “According to a couple of the local shop owners Bedolla’s camp is at the base of that twin mountain peek north of town Jim. Then his voice raised again, “Reginald C. Harkman is my name son! I hale from Abilene in the Texas territory. It’s mighty kind of you to buy me a drink son.” The bartender placed their drinks on the table. As he walked away, Artemus continued quietly.
“I’ve already notified the commander at the fort. He’s sending out a couple of companies as we speak. They’ll disburse and position themselves around the encampment. I’ll join up with them after you leave here. You get yourself inside that camp and we’ll wait for your signal. Try not to blow up the whole mountain , alright James?”
Jim threw his head back laughing loudly. “That’s a good joke Mr. Harkman!”
“Son, I got a whole bunch of Jim dandies I could tell ya!” Artemus countered loudly. Then low again, “We should have that little stage robbing nest of hornets cleaned out just in time to get back to the train for a late supper.” He tipped his glass again and drained the last of the whiskey. “The local butcher is saving me a couple of nice steaks.” He winked. “Mighty nice drinkin’ with ya Mr. Rowan, but I’d best be on ma way. Thank you and a good day to you Sir!”
The Texan got up and Jim watched in amusement as Artie’s “old man” lurched unsteadily out of the saloon and across the street to the hotel. Steak for dinner sounded good. He loved that about Artie, the man was always thinking several moves ahead and endgame almost always included a great meal!
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Two hours later, three of the men Jim had seen earlier returned to the saloon. They strode directly to his table.
Congratulations Mr. Rowan, el jeffe says you are to join us. We will take you to him. Jim got up and walked out with them. The plan was moving along smoothly.
Artemus watched from the hotel window as Jim mounted his horse and headed north out of town with his new companions. He gave them a twenty minute start and then headed down the back stairs of the hotel and out into the alleyway. He quickly made his way to the livery and acquired a fresh horse. The proprietor took one look at Arties credentials and was more than willing to help out. It was about time the government saw fit to do something about these bandits. The territory was always crawling with them. He waived the usual deposit on the horse and saddle, telling Artemus he could just pay when he returned them.
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He mounted up and cantered past the houses and buildings that made up the small town of Crow Flats. At the edge of town, on his way north, Atemus rode past a woman and her small son who were walking there. Normally he would have tipped his hat to them out of gentlemanly courtesy but today he did not see them and rode by with no acknowledgment. The small boy watched him carefully.
“He is the one I told you about mother. He is himself now, but this morning he was someone else and yesterday, someone else! There are many people on that horse!”
His mother smiled as she watched the rider disappear in the distance. “That one is very handsome!” She laughed playfully.
“Do you think he is one of us mother?”
“No, I do not. But, perhaps someday. . . We must get back now Miguelito, your grandmother is waiting.”
“Mother, can we travel to a big city this year?”
“Of course! We can go anywhere you wish!”
“Why do we live up there?” He looked toward a distant mountain.
“Because it is our home little one.”
He grinned. “I like our home! We can see so much from up there. Luis likes it too!
She laughed again. “Of course Luis would like it!”
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Artie rode along the same route that West and the three men had taken. He kept a watchful eye on the surrounding landscape as he moved along. For nearly two hours he rode quietly, hoping it wouldn’t be much further. Suddenly his eye caught a glinting reflection up on the nearest ridge. He considered the possibility that someone could be up there…or not. Rather than take a chance on causing a warning disturbance on the way to the camp, he reined his mount off the trail and headed out across a more open section of the desert, hopefully giving the impression that his destination was elsewhere. He’d ride a ways out and then double back. If anyone was following, they would soon have to reveal themselves. He was confident that he could outrun them on the big horse he had rented. To the west, were the rocky foothills of more nearby mountains. He’d be able to lead them away and take refuge there if need be.
What he had not anticipated was the possibility that in this same territory, there were equally dangerous denizens of the desert that had nothing to do with the bandits that he and Jim were after. A startling rifle shot rang out and kicked up sand entirely too close to his horse’s legs. He goaded the animal into a gallop and headed for those foothills. Two horsemen appeared behind him and began the pursuit in earnest. They didn’t bother shooting needless or pointless shots. They were obviously intent on getting close enough for accuracy. Artemus turned in the saddle and fired warning shots in return but the two persisted on their course.
Artemus slapped the reins across the flanks of his own horse, urging him into greater speed. The big horse was a strong runner and willingly increased his strides. He could hear the horse’s strong panting grunts along with his own heartbeat as they hurtled through the sand and sage. On and on, he urged his mount, deeper into the section of badlands. Another shot rang out and in that same instant a bullet tore through Artemus’ lower left leg. It pierced clean through and into the big horse.
Artemus wasn’t sure what came first, the screaming pain in his leg or the horse’s sudden shudder in mid stride. It was hard to tell in those fateful seconds because his spinning mind was trying to comprehend the speed at which the earth suddenly reared upward to meet him. He actually heard the thud of their bodies one long second before he felt anything at all. Then a hungry darkness swallowed him completely.
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Jim rode along with his new companions in the burning desert heat. They rode in silence. The three men made it clear that they had no interest in striking up any conversation. They followed the road north out of the small town and eventually cut out through the desert toward the base of the northern mountains where they would find the encampment and the object of James and Artemus’ current assignment. For six months now there had been a series of stagecoach holdups and robberies, but no clue as to where the group committing them came from. They had attempted to locate them by mapping out the robberies, only to discover that they stayed in no one particular place very long and that the pattern of the strikes were erratic and apparently planned long distances from wherever they were staged from.
A break had finally come when they had intercepted a gun hand on his way to rejoin the group. In exchange for a more lenient jail sentence after a failed robbery attempt on his own, he had given them the information they needed. He had spilled out locations and proposed plans the roving group of bandits had discussed in his presence. He was then quietly transported from the territory and a false report of his death circulated. This left both a job opening and an opportunity for placement within the group. James West in the guise of one Cam Rowan, had come to fill that opening.
Artemus in disguise had come to the small town of Crow Flats several days ahead of Jim and quietly acquired local information on the bandits numbers and movements. The plan was relatively simple. The cavalry fort in this part of the territory was close by, so they had all the manpower they would need. Jim would infiltrate the bandit camp, set off a few well placed explosions, creating a diversion and confusion, while at the same time signaling the cavalry conveniently hidden nearby. They would ride in and round them up, hopefully without too much bloodshed. If all went according to plan, James and Artemus would be back on the train by evening and headed for a new assignment tomorrow.
West rode confidently into the camp. A darkly dressed older man with a lean and hardened look studied him carefully as he dismounted. “You are Cam Rowan Senor?” The dark man inquired with a tone of cold authority.
Jim coolly returned the gaze a moment before answering. “Yes, I came looking for work. I heard you could use a good gun Senor….uh…?”
“If you do not know my name…how could you know I need another gun? Eh?”
Jim gave a quick hint of an evil smile. “I met your last gunman before he passed away. We had a nice chat about our pleasures.”
The dark man’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps Senor, …you had something to do with his passing?”
“Let’s just say that your last gun didn’t like missing opportunities to demonstrate his skills. I on the other hand create opportunities, so I can benefit from mine.”
“You killed him.”
“It was a fair fight. He was just slower.”
This apparently tickled the older bandit, he threw his head back and laughed. “You took his life and now you’ve come to take his place?!”
“Is that a problem?” Jim/Cam asked, one eyebrow raised.
“It is not a problem as long as you remember to keep that place! I am called Bedolla. You may join us Senor Rowan. You will be paid the same cut as the departed Senor Burke was. Take it or leave it. And if you cause me any trouble, you will wish with your last breath that you had left!”
“Agreed.” Jim answered.
“Bueno. The men will show you around. Get something to eat and rest yourself. Tomorrow, we go “stage hunting” again.
“Gracias, Senor Bedolla.” Jim tipped his hat. He casually pulled his saddlebags from the saddle and slung them over his shoulder. He walked away toward the campfire. Helping himself to a plate of stew, he let his eyes wander through the camp and the perimeter of rocks and brush. The place was well chosen and easily defended. He’d have to make sure his diversion made that as difficult as possible. The bandits had supply wagons here and undoubtedly extra ammo in at least one of them. A few explosives would take care of that and send the unmistakable signal.
James engaged some of his fellow bandits in conversation. “I don’t mind taking a turn at watch tonight. Do you mind if I stroll around and get a good look at the place?” Encouraged by his offer, they began to tell him about the layout of the camp and placement of the guards.
Jim took it all in and mentally organized his plan.
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The two opportunistic thieves rode up cautiously, studying the fallen horse and rider for any sign of life. The jumbled pile of man and horse lay still in the broiling heat of the desert landscape. Both men dismounted, guns drawn.
“Lookie there Sam! You done em both in with one shot!”
“Damn! Shame about that horse. He was a nice one too.” Sam surveyed his handiwork. “Joe, see if that fella is still alive and pick up his gun.” Meanwhile, Sam scanned the distances around them. This territory was run by a pack of bandits they’d heard about. It wouldn’t do to stay here too long and it certainly would be unhealthy if said bandits caught them working this area.
Joe walked over to the fallen horse. The big horse was dead alright, bullet probably went right through his heart from the looks of it. He looked at the man. He could see the chest still rise and fall. He picked up Gordon’s gun, then he called back to Sam, “Yep, he’s still breathin’. I reckon not for long though. He’s got his self a dead horse laying on him, a big ol bullet hole in his leg and he ain’t goin’ nowhere in this fire breathing desert, except maybe straight to hell.”
“Well, don’t just stand there Joe. We didn’t run him down to admire him. See if he’s got any money on him.” Sam didn’t move from his spot. He was accustomed to snapping orders at Joe and Joe was accustomed to following them.
Joe dropped down on his knees next to Artemus and went through his jacket pockets. He pulled out a gold watch, a leather money fold and a few other odd items that he did not quite know what to make of. He handed the money fold to Sam.
Sam removed the bills and started counting. “Whoowhee! There’s five hundred and forty seven dollars here! Now that ain’t bad pay at all. But what’s this?…” He turned the wallet around and studied the identification. “Damn!” He cursed again and spat on the ground. “Joe, we just dropped a federal lawman. That’s a hanging for sure if we was to ever get caught!”
Joe looked at the man lying trapped under the big dead horse. “I reckon it’s a good thing we’re headed for Mexico, huh Sam?”
“Dang right!” Sam answered. “Get on your horse Joe and let’s get moving.”
Joe and Sam mounted up and they rode off. Sam could still be heard barking at Joe in the distance, “And throw down that hat and gun belt; and the rest of that stuff. We don’t need anything tying us to this!”
“But, it’s a nice hat Sam!”
“I told you to get rid of it. Now do what I say!” Joe tossed the items away. The two careless road agents disappeared into the distance, neither one giving a second thought to the grisly scene they’d left behind.
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Jim wandered the camp, greeting the bandits and introducing himself. On the pretense of familiarizing himself with the perimeter, he walked freely back and forth through the camp. Keeping a watchful eye out, he quietly checked the supply wagons. As he suspected, one of them contained a good deal of ammunition. He made sure no one was watching and quietly removed one of Artie’s time delay explosives along with a couple of sticks of dynamite from his saddlebag. After setting it, he quickly moved on, discreetly placing more of them in and around the camp. By the time he was done, he had carefully placed himself out of harms way. He had also positioned himself to be able to deal with whomever he would encounter in the soon to be melee. In a matter of minutes the fun would begin.
Those minutes ticked by with the sounds of men laughing, talking and the grunts and clanks of camp life work. Then the first explosives went off. Seconds later the second explosion and so they repeated in sequence through and around the camp, raining debris. Through the deafening havoc, Bedolla’s men ran helter-skelter, seeking cover and trying to deal with the mass confusion.
It only took seconds for Bedolla to realize that his new gun hand was behind this. He screamed orders at his men. “You find Rowan now! I want him dead! Do you hear me?! Find him and kill him on sight! I WANT HIM DEAD!”
One of the men spotted West among the rocks. “There he is!” They began to fire on him. He returned fire and within the next moments, an onslaught of Calvary began to overrun the camp.
Realizing that the end had come, Bedolla ran for a horse and Jim cut through the rocks to intercept him. As the bandit leader galloped for an uncovered opening, West jumped from above, pulling him from the saddle. The two crashed to the ground, grappling with each other. Regaining their footing, the two swung at each other, striking each other with savage blows. West was finally able to land a blow to Bedolla’s face and a last powerful punch to the bandit’s stomach. He collapsed, winded and spent, the fight gone out of him. James dragged him to his feet and pushed him back into the camp at gunpoint.
The confusion quieted down as the rest of the bandits were rounded up and disarmed. They were herded to a central location under guard and a headcount taken. Jim West along with Lieutenant Morrow from the fort were satisfied that they had them all, including two dead, who had met with the Calvary gunfire.
“Nice work Mr. West.” The Lieutenant congratulated him and shook his hand.
“May I return the compliment to you and your men Lieutenant. I was hoping to stay out of the crossfire and not be mistaken for one of them.” Jim said smiling.
Lt Morrow laughed. “Not to worry Mr. West. We recognized you immediately. Mr. Gordon took great pains to make sure we understood what you looked like, so we wouldn’t “accidentally” shoot one of Grant‘s best agents!”
“That sounds like Artie alright.” Jim grinned and looked around the camp. “Where is Mr. Gordon anyway?”
“Didn’t he come out here with you Mr. West?”
“No, he was supposed to follow after me and join with you and your men. That was the plan, wasn’t it?”
“It was.” The Lieutenant answered. “But when we didn’t see him, we thought he came out earlier. We’ve had no contact with him since yesterday.”
Jim looked around the camp and surrounding area, giving some concerned thought to Lt. Morrow’s words. “Lieutenant, I’m going to head back to Crow Flats, I’ll probably meet up with him on the way.”
“Sure Mr. West, we can meet at the fort later, or tomorrow, and sort out the reports then.”
“That will be fine Lieutenant.” Jim started to head for his horse, when suddenly the Lieutenant called after him.
“Wait a minute Mr. West.” He gave a wry smile. “I think I may have an idea as to what happened to your partner.”
Jim returned to hear what the Lieutenant had to say. The Lieutenant looked a bit sheepish.
“I may be spoiling a surprise and I apologize if I am. But yesterday, when Mr. Gordon was at the fort, we introduced him to a couple of very lovely young ladies. You see, we have some family visitors at the fort this month. And well… the young ladies seemed quite taken with Mr. Gordon. I believe he promised them a supper aboard your private train if this matter was concluded early enough. Mr. Gordon’s presence really wasn’t needed for this. I think he may have forgone this party in order to prepare a more private one aboard your train this evening.
Jim’s face pulled back in a laugh, as he remembered the comment about the steaks waiting. “That’s Mr. Gordon! He’s always thinking ahead Lieutenant. No doubt, that’s exactly where he is!”
“You go on and enjoy yourself Mr. West. Like I said, we can finish up the loose ends tomorrow.
Jim mounted up and instead of riding the long way back through town, he cut across the badlands in the direction of the train. It sat on a siding near the fort, but it was about nine miles distance from the small town of Crow Flats.
The late day sun was slipping into early evening when the distant train came into his line of sight. Jim was happy to get back this early. He rode with a smile, looking forward to a relaxing supper and feminine company.
When he reached the train, he left his horse tied by the back platform and entered the varnish car. The place was quiet. No lights on and no sound. He checked the galley, nothing had been disturbed since they had left it days ago. He headed down the hall to Artie’s quarters and popped his head in. There too, nothing had been disturbed. The same was true throughout both cars.
He walked back through the varnish car, remounted his horse and headed for the fort. Once there, he inquired if Artemus Gordon had been there at all today. The answer was no. Again, he remounted his horse and traveled at a quick pace back to Crow Flats. Something had detained Artemus and Jim was intent on finding out what.
It was dusk when he reached the town. He rode straight to the hotel and quickly entered without bothering to stop at the desk. His determined strides never slowed as he took the stairs and finally arrived at Artie’s hotel room. He knocked and called out, “Artemus? …Artie, are you in there?”
He tried the door but it was locked. His lock pick made short work of the task and he entered. Arties make up kit and clothes were neatly waiting for his return. There was no sign of any disturbance and no note or message left behind. Jim turned and headed back downstairs to the desk.
“Excuse me,” he greeted the desk clerk. “I’m looking for a Reginald Harkman. I believe he’s staying in room number six, but I can’t seem to catch up with him. Any idea where I might find him?”
The short bespectacled desk clerk looked up at the question, recognizing the man who had previously checked in as Rowan. “Nope, haven’t seen him, or heard him for that matter, all day Mr. Rowan. Lordy, that man is loud. Must have a hearing problem.”
“You didn’t notice him leave today?”
“No, but he could have gone out the back way. All I can tell you, is that he hasn’t stopped by the desk for messages or a newspaper today.”
“Thank you.” Jim tipped his hat and went back outside. He stood, looking up and down the street. Night was coming on and the soft glow of yellow fire light from the windows gave the town an almost mournful appearance. His eyes stopped on the sign for the Livery. There next…he decided and strode impatiently toward the still open doors.
He found the smithy still hard at work, pounding out and shaping a horse shoe. He looked up at Jim’s approach, his sweating torso glad for the interruption and a rest.
The smithy nodded at Jim. “What can I do for you sir?” He asked, noting a strained look on the man’s face.
“I’m looking for a man who may have rented a horse from you earlier today.”
“You a friend of his?”
“Yes, …actually, he’s my partner. His name is Artemus…
“Gordon.” The smithy finished the sentence for him. He was in a little after noon and I provided him with a horse and saddle. He said he’d have the horse back tonight or tomorrow. Is there a problem Mr. …?”
“West. James West. Did he say anything about where he was going?”
“Sure did. He showed me his identification and said he was working with the Calvary, trying to round up that pack of thieves that have been riding ruff shod all over this town. He said he was headed north to join up with some soldiers. Mr. West, I didn’t make him pay anything on that horse. If that animal don’t get returned, I expect the government to pay for it.” He gave Jim a look of no nonsense earnestness.
“You’ll get paid,” Jim answered. “I’m just trying to find him. He didn’t show up where he was supposed to. Did anyone follow him that you noticed?”
“No, I watched him ride out. Didn’t notice anyone pay him any mind.”
Jim pulled out his wallet and handed the smithy several large bills. “Thank you. Will that cover the horse until it gets returned?”
“It certainly will. I appreciate it.” The smithy watched Jim walk down the street to the telegraph office and then he returned to his anvil.
James sent a wire to the train and waited. No reply. He wired the fort, they replied that Mr. Gordon had still not shown up there. Jim then left instructions to be notified at the hotel if any wire came in for him.
Jim walked along the street back to the hotel. Darkness had fallen. It was as black as the towns namesake. He went back to his own room, adjoining Artemus’ room. He sat in deep thought for a long time. Where the devil had Artie disappeared to? A feeling of apprehension was beginning to tighten its grip on him. If Artemus didn’t show up by dawn… Jim rubbed his hands over his face and began to make plans to return to the northern trail to begin his search.
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CHAPTER 1: “No Deposit, No Return”
The tension in the small saloon was nearly palpable as the two men verbally tested each others metal.
“Just how good are you with that pistol Senor?”
The answer came with a foreboding chill in it’s tone. “Good enough. Good enough for you, for your employer or anyone else who cares to find out.” The man who made himself known as Cam Rowan traded an icy stare with the bandit.
This particular bandit, who gave no name of his own, was obviously the superior of the small group that currently populated the saloon. He had been engaged in conversation for the last twenty minutes with this stranger who come to the saloon looking for work. “Perhaps, I do not believe you Senor. Perhaps…I will require proof of this.” Cruel lips drew back in a nasty grin. The teeth revealed beneath the heavy black mustache were in surprisingly good condition. The rest of the bandit’s filthy unkempt appearance was not.
“Look, I heard there was work for a good gun hand and good pay. If your boss isn’t interested, I’ll move on. It’s of no mind to me. But I think he should at least meet with me and decide for himself.
I don’t feel a need to impress his peons.”
The bandits face hardened and his eyes flashed in anger. “You should be careful what you say in here Senor. Death waits all around you. You will do as I ask.”
The bandit then looked around the saloon. He traded glances with his men and his eyes came to rest on an older gentleman at the bar. The well dressed man stood quietly tending to his beer and his own business. The bandit strode over to the bar and addressed the white haired man. “You! Give me a five dollar gold piece!”
The older gentleman turned around. Dark brown eyes looked out from under bushy white eyebrows that complimented the equally bushy handlebar mustache. “You talkin’ at me son?”
“I am not your son Senor. Who are you and what are you doing in this cantina?”
“Well, what’s it look like I’m a doin’? I stopped in to wet ma dusty whistle.”
“I want to know what you are doing here in Crow Flats.
“Well, not that it’s any of your business…I’m a stock buyer from Abilene on my way to Senora. This place was the first watering hole I seen in two days. Now why don’t ya run along and let a man drink in peace!”
The bandit placed the barrel of his pistol between the old man’s eyes. “I told you to give me a five dollar gold piece, did I not?”
“Well, what makes ya think I got one?”
“The cut of your clothing speaks to me. Now give it to me.”
“Are you robbing me?!!” The old man didn’t flinch as the gun pressed into his forehead.
“Senor, if I wanted to rob you, you would already be dead and your pockets would be empty.” He cocked the hammer. “I am only “borrowing” it temporarily.” The nasty grin grew larger this time.
“Why didn’t ya say so to begin with?” The dark eyed old man reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a gold coin sandwiched between his index and middle fingers. He dropped it into the bandit’s waiting palm.
“Gracias Senor.” The old man only shot him a dirty look in return.
The bandit returned his attention to Cam Rowan. “You will step outside with me Senor Rowan.”
Rowan pushed his hat up slightly, still looking at the bandit with a decided air of contempt. He then stepped forward and they exited the cantina. Most of the patrons of the small saloon got up and followed. The older Texan made his way to the door as well.
The bandit stood facing Rowan in the dusty street under an already blazing hot morning sun. He spoke his challenge.
“Senor if you are as good with that pistol as you say you are, then a little target practice should be no problem. But…if you miss Senor…then I think the grim reaper and the village coffin builder will have a little business today. Entiendo?” Five other gun hands surrounding them drew their pistols. “You see Senor Rowan, we are not fond of braggarts in this town. So if a man says he can do something, he should be able to. Si?” And with those words, he suddenly threw the coin into the air.
The rattlesnake handled pistol left the holster almost faster than the eye could follow and the instantaneous single shot blasted the coin from it’s flight path. Rowan’s gaze had only strayed from the bandit’s face for a second and back again. The pistol spun and returned to its holster. One of the lesser bandits walked over to where the coin had landed and picked it up. He returned it to his superior.
The bandit held the coin up and his dark eye stared through the hole in it at Rowan. Then he began to laugh. “Very nice Senor…very nice!” He handed the coin to Rowan. “I will speak to my employer and send someone back for you. You will wait here at the cantina until they come for you.”
Rowan’s only answer was a small disdainful snort and he turned back toward the saloon entrance. The onlookers disbursed.
As Rowan passed the old Texan, he tossed the now perforated coin back to him. “Your change old man.”
“Show off!” Artemus Gordon hissed quietly through the white mustache. A small smile tugged at Jim’s lips as he caught Artie’s eye.
“That’s some mighty fine shootin’ son! Mighty fine indeed!” Artie’s old Texan exclaimed loudly as he examined the ruined coin.
“Thanks old man. How about I buy you a whiskey to ease that bullet wound?”
“Well now! That’s right neighborly of ya! I wouldn’t mind that at all son!”
They reentered the saloon. “Two whiskeys barkeep!” Jim barked the order at the man behind the bar and motioned toward a table in the corner. He and Artemus sat down.
“What did you find out Artie?” Jim spoke in a low voice.
“A pleasure to meet ya Mr. Rowan!” Artemus spoke loud enough for everyone to hear and then lowered his own voice. “According to a couple of the local shop owners Bedolla’s camp is at the base of that twin mountain peek north of town Jim. Then his voice raised again, “Reginald C. Harkman is my name son! I hale from Abilene in the Texas territory. It’s mighty kind of you to buy me a drink son.” The bartender placed their drinks on the table. As he walked away, Artemus continued quietly.
“I’ve already notified the commander at the fort. He’s sending out a couple of companies as we speak. They’ll disburse and position themselves around the encampment. I’ll join up with them after you leave here. You get yourself inside that camp and we’ll wait for your signal. Try not to blow up the whole mountain , alright James?”
Jim threw his head back laughing loudly. “That’s a good joke Mr. Harkman!”
“Son, I got a whole bunch of Jim dandies I could tell ya!” Artemus countered loudly. Then low again, “We should have that little stage robbing nest of hornets cleaned out just in time to get back to the train for a late supper.” He tipped his glass again and drained the last of the whiskey. “The local butcher is saving me a couple of nice steaks.” He winked. “Mighty nice drinkin’ with ya Mr. Rowan, but I’d best be on ma way. Thank you and a good day to you Sir!”
The Texan got up and Jim watched in amusement as Artie’s “old man” lurched unsteadily out of the saloon and across the street to the hotel. Steak for dinner sounded good. He loved that about Artie, the man was always thinking several moves ahead and endgame almost always included a great meal!
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Two hours later, three of the men Jim had seen earlier returned to the saloon. They strode directly to his table.
Congratulations Mr. Rowan, el jeffe says you are to join us. We will take you to him. Jim got up and walked out with them. The plan was moving along smoothly.
Artemus watched from the hotel window as Jim mounted his horse and headed north out of town with his new companions. He gave them a twenty minute start and then headed down the back stairs of the hotel and out into the alleyway. He quickly made his way to the livery and acquired a fresh horse. The proprietor took one look at Arties credentials and was more than willing to help out. It was about time the government saw fit to do something about these bandits. The territory was always crawling with them. He waived the usual deposit on the horse and saddle, telling Artemus he could just pay when he returned them.
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He mounted up and cantered past the houses and buildings that made up the small town of Crow Flats. At the edge of town, on his way north, Atemus rode past a woman and her small son who were walking there. Normally he would have tipped his hat to them out of gentlemanly courtesy but today he did not see them and rode by with no acknowledgment. The small boy watched him carefully.
“He is the one I told you about mother. He is himself now, but this morning he was someone else and yesterday, someone else! There are many people on that horse!”
His mother smiled as she watched the rider disappear in the distance. “That one is very handsome!” She laughed playfully.
“Do you think he is one of us mother?”
“No, I do not. But, perhaps someday. . . We must get back now Miguelito, your grandmother is waiting.”
“Mother, can we travel to a big city this year?”
“Of course! We can go anywhere you wish!”
“Why do we live up there?” He looked toward a distant mountain.
“Because it is our home little one.”
He grinned. “I like our home! We can see so much from up there. Luis likes it too!
She laughed again. “Of course Luis would like it!”
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Artie rode along the same route that West and the three men had taken. He kept a watchful eye on the surrounding landscape as he moved along. For nearly two hours he rode quietly, hoping it wouldn’t be much further. Suddenly his eye caught a glinting reflection up on the nearest ridge. He considered the possibility that someone could be up there…or not. Rather than take a chance on causing a warning disturbance on the way to the camp, he reined his mount off the trail and headed out across a more open section of the desert, hopefully giving the impression that his destination was elsewhere. He’d ride a ways out and then double back. If anyone was following, they would soon have to reveal themselves. He was confident that he could outrun them on the big horse he had rented. To the west, were the rocky foothills of more nearby mountains. He’d be able to lead them away and take refuge there if need be.
What he had not anticipated was the possibility that in this same territory, there were equally dangerous denizens of the desert that had nothing to do with the bandits that he and Jim were after. A startling rifle shot rang out and kicked up sand entirely too close to his horse’s legs. He goaded the animal into a gallop and headed for those foothills. Two horsemen appeared behind him and began the pursuit in earnest. They didn’t bother shooting needless or pointless shots. They were obviously intent on getting close enough for accuracy. Artemus turned in the saddle and fired warning shots in return but the two persisted on their course.
Artemus slapped the reins across the flanks of his own horse, urging him into greater speed. The big horse was a strong runner and willingly increased his strides. He could hear the horse’s strong panting grunts along with his own heartbeat as they hurtled through the sand and sage. On and on, he urged his mount, deeper into the section of badlands. Another shot rang out and in that same instant a bullet tore through Artemus’ lower left leg. It pierced clean through and into the big horse.
Artemus wasn’t sure what came first, the screaming pain in his leg or the horse’s sudden shudder in mid stride. It was hard to tell in those fateful seconds because his spinning mind was trying to comprehend the speed at which the earth suddenly reared upward to meet him. He actually heard the thud of their bodies one long second before he felt anything at all. Then a hungry darkness swallowed him completely.
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Jim rode along with his new companions in the burning desert heat. They rode in silence. The three men made it clear that they had no interest in striking up any conversation. They followed the road north out of the small town and eventually cut out through the desert toward the base of the northern mountains where they would find the encampment and the object of James and Artemus’ current assignment. For six months now there had been a series of stagecoach holdups and robberies, but no clue as to where the group committing them came from. They had attempted to locate them by mapping out the robberies, only to discover that they stayed in no one particular place very long and that the pattern of the strikes were erratic and apparently planned long distances from wherever they were staged from.
A break had finally come when they had intercepted a gun hand on his way to rejoin the group. In exchange for a more lenient jail sentence after a failed robbery attempt on his own, he had given them the information they needed. He had spilled out locations and proposed plans the roving group of bandits had discussed in his presence. He was then quietly transported from the territory and a false report of his death circulated. This left both a job opening and an opportunity for placement within the group. James West in the guise of one Cam Rowan, had come to fill that opening.
Artemus in disguise had come to the small town of Crow Flats several days ahead of Jim and quietly acquired local information on the bandits numbers and movements. The plan was relatively simple. The cavalry fort in this part of the territory was close by, so they had all the manpower they would need. Jim would infiltrate the bandit camp, set off a few well placed explosions, creating a diversion and confusion, while at the same time signaling the cavalry conveniently hidden nearby. They would ride in and round them up, hopefully without too much bloodshed. If all went according to plan, James and Artemus would be back on the train by evening and headed for a new assignment tomorrow.
West rode confidently into the camp. A darkly dressed older man with a lean and hardened look studied him carefully as he dismounted. “You are Cam Rowan Senor?” The dark man inquired with a tone of cold authority.
Jim coolly returned the gaze a moment before answering. “Yes, I came looking for work. I heard you could use a good gun Senor….uh…?”
“If you do not know my name…how could you know I need another gun? Eh?”
Jim gave a quick hint of an evil smile. “I met your last gunman before he passed away. We had a nice chat about our pleasures.”
The dark man’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps Senor, …you had something to do with his passing?”
“Let’s just say that your last gun didn’t like missing opportunities to demonstrate his skills. I on the other hand create opportunities, so I can benefit from mine.”
“You killed him.”
“It was a fair fight. He was just slower.”
This apparently tickled the older bandit, he threw his head back and laughed. “You took his life and now you’ve come to take his place?!”
“Is that a problem?” Jim/Cam asked, one eyebrow raised.
“It is not a problem as long as you remember to keep that place! I am called Bedolla. You may join us Senor Rowan. You will be paid the same cut as the departed Senor Burke was. Take it or leave it. And if you cause me any trouble, you will wish with your last breath that you had left!”
“Agreed.” Jim answered.
“Bueno. The men will show you around. Get something to eat and rest yourself. Tomorrow, we go “stage hunting” again.
“Gracias, Senor Bedolla.” Jim tipped his hat. He casually pulled his saddlebags from the saddle and slung them over his shoulder. He walked away toward the campfire. Helping himself to a plate of stew, he let his eyes wander through the camp and the perimeter of rocks and brush. The place was well chosen and easily defended. He’d have to make sure his diversion made that as difficult as possible. The bandits had supply wagons here and undoubtedly extra ammo in at least one of them. A few explosives would take care of that and send the unmistakable signal.
James engaged some of his fellow bandits in conversation. “I don’t mind taking a turn at watch tonight. Do you mind if I stroll around and get a good look at the place?” Encouraged by his offer, they began to tell him about the layout of the camp and placement of the guards.
Jim took it all in and mentally organized his plan.
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The two opportunistic thieves rode up cautiously, studying the fallen horse and rider for any sign of life. The jumbled pile of man and horse lay still in the broiling heat of the desert landscape. Both men dismounted, guns drawn.
“Lookie there Sam! You done em both in with one shot!”
“Damn! Shame about that horse. He was a nice one too.” Sam surveyed his handiwork. “Joe, see if that fella is still alive and pick up his gun.” Meanwhile, Sam scanned the distances around them. This territory was run by a pack of bandits they’d heard about. It wouldn’t do to stay here too long and it certainly would be unhealthy if said bandits caught them working this area.
Joe walked over to the fallen horse. The big horse was dead alright, bullet probably went right through his heart from the looks of it. He looked at the man. He could see the chest still rise and fall. He picked up Gordon’s gun, then he called back to Sam, “Yep, he’s still breathin’. I reckon not for long though. He’s got his self a dead horse laying on him, a big ol bullet hole in his leg and he ain’t goin’ nowhere in this fire breathing desert, except maybe straight to hell.”
“Well, don’t just stand there Joe. We didn’t run him down to admire him. See if he’s got any money on him.” Sam didn’t move from his spot. He was accustomed to snapping orders at Joe and Joe was accustomed to following them.
Joe dropped down on his knees next to Artemus and went through his jacket pockets. He pulled out a gold watch, a leather money fold and a few other odd items that he did not quite know what to make of. He handed the money fold to Sam.
Sam removed the bills and started counting. “Whoowhee! There’s five hundred and forty seven dollars here! Now that ain’t bad pay at all. But what’s this?…” He turned the wallet around and studied the identification. “Damn!” He cursed again and spat on the ground. “Joe, we just dropped a federal lawman. That’s a hanging for sure if we was to ever get caught!”
Joe looked at the man lying trapped under the big dead horse. “I reckon it’s a good thing we’re headed for Mexico, huh Sam?”
“Dang right!” Sam answered. “Get on your horse Joe and let’s get moving.”
Joe and Sam mounted up and they rode off. Sam could still be heard barking at Joe in the distance, “And throw down that hat and gun belt; and the rest of that stuff. We don’t need anything tying us to this!”
“But, it’s a nice hat Sam!”
“I told you to get rid of it. Now do what I say!” Joe tossed the items away. The two careless road agents disappeared into the distance, neither one giving a second thought to the grisly scene they’d left behind.
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Jim wandered the camp, greeting the bandits and introducing himself. On the pretense of familiarizing himself with the perimeter, he walked freely back and forth through the camp. Keeping a watchful eye out, he quietly checked the supply wagons. As he suspected, one of them contained a good deal of ammunition. He made sure no one was watching and quietly removed one of Artie’s time delay explosives along with a couple of sticks of dynamite from his saddlebag. After setting it, he quickly moved on, discreetly placing more of them in and around the camp. By the time he was done, he had carefully placed himself out of harms way. He had also positioned himself to be able to deal with whomever he would encounter in the soon to be melee. In a matter of minutes the fun would begin.
Those minutes ticked by with the sounds of men laughing, talking and the grunts and clanks of camp life work. Then the first explosives went off. Seconds later the second explosion and so they repeated in sequence through and around the camp, raining debris. Through the deafening havoc, Bedolla’s men ran helter-skelter, seeking cover and trying to deal with the mass confusion.
It only took seconds for Bedolla to realize that his new gun hand was behind this. He screamed orders at his men. “You find Rowan now! I want him dead! Do you hear me?! Find him and kill him on sight! I WANT HIM DEAD!”
One of the men spotted West among the rocks. “There he is!” They began to fire on him. He returned fire and within the next moments, an onslaught of Calvary began to overrun the camp.
Realizing that the end had come, Bedolla ran for a horse and Jim cut through the rocks to intercept him. As the bandit leader galloped for an uncovered opening, West jumped from above, pulling him from the saddle. The two crashed to the ground, grappling with each other. Regaining their footing, the two swung at each other, striking each other with savage blows. West was finally able to land a blow to Bedolla’s face and a last powerful punch to the bandit’s stomach. He collapsed, winded and spent, the fight gone out of him. James dragged him to his feet and pushed him back into the camp at gunpoint.
The confusion quieted down as the rest of the bandits were rounded up and disarmed. They were herded to a central location under guard and a headcount taken. Jim West along with Lieutenant Morrow from the fort were satisfied that they had them all, including two dead, who had met with the Calvary gunfire.
“Nice work Mr. West.” The Lieutenant congratulated him and shook his hand.
“May I return the compliment to you and your men Lieutenant. I was hoping to stay out of the crossfire and not be mistaken for one of them.” Jim said smiling.
Lt Morrow laughed. “Not to worry Mr. West. We recognized you immediately. Mr. Gordon took great pains to make sure we understood what you looked like, so we wouldn’t “accidentally” shoot one of Grant‘s best agents!”
“That sounds like Artie alright.” Jim grinned and looked around the camp. “Where is Mr. Gordon anyway?”
“Didn’t he come out here with you Mr. West?”
“No, he was supposed to follow after me and join with you and your men. That was the plan, wasn’t it?”
“It was.” The Lieutenant answered. “But when we didn’t see him, we thought he came out earlier. We’ve had no contact with him since yesterday.”
Jim looked around the camp and surrounding area, giving some concerned thought to Lt. Morrow’s words. “Lieutenant, I’m going to head back to Crow Flats, I’ll probably meet up with him on the way.”
“Sure Mr. West, we can meet at the fort later, or tomorrow, and sort out the reports then.”
“That will be fine Lieutenant.” Jim started to head for his horse, when suddenly the Lieutenant called after him.
“Wait a minute Mr. West.” He gave a wry smile. “I think I may have an idea as to what happened to your partner.”
Jim returned to hear what the Lieutenant had to say. The Lieutenant looked a bit sheepish.
“I may be spoiling a surprise and I apologize if I am. But yesterday, when Mr. Gordon was at the fort, we introduced him to a couple of very lovely young ladies. You see, we have some family visitors at the fort this month. And well… the young ladies seemed quite taken with Mr. Gordon. I believe he promised them a supper aboard your private train if this matter was concluded early enough. Mr. Gordon’s presence really wasn’t needed for this. I think he may have forgone this party in order to prepare a more private one aboard your train this evening.
Jim’s face pulled back in a laugh, as he remembered the comment about the steaks waiting. “That’s Mr. Gordon! He’s always thinking ahead Lieutenant. No doubt, that’s exactly where he is!”
“You go on and enjoy yourself Mr. West. Like I said, we can finish up the loose ends tomorrow.
Jim mounted up and instead of riding the long way back through town, he cut across the badlands in the direction of the train. It sat on a siding near the fort, but it was about nine miles distance from the small town of Crow Flats.
The late day sun was slipping into early evening when the distant train came into his line of sight. Jim was happy to get back this early. He rode with a smile, looking forward to a relaxing supper and feminine company.
When he reached the train, he left his horse tied by the back platform and entered the varnish car. The place was quiet. No lights on and no sound. He checked the galley, nothing had been disturbed since they had left it days ago. He headed down the hall to Artie’s quarters and popped his head in. There too, nothing had been disturbed. The same was true throughout both cars.
He walked back through the varnish car, remounted his horse and headed for the fort. Once there, he inquired if Artemus Gordon had been there at all today. The answer was no. Again, he remounted his horse and traveled at a quick pace back to Crow Flats. Something had detained Artemus and Jim was intent on finding out what.
It was dusk when he reached the town. He rode straight to the hotel and quickly entered without bothering to stop at the desk. His determined strides never slowed as he took the stairs and finally arrived at Artie’s hotel room. He knocked and called out, “Artemus? …Artie, are you in there?”
He tried the door but it was locked. His lock pick made short work of the task and he entered. Arties make up kit and clothes were neatly waiting for his return. There was no sign of any disturbance and no note or message left behind. Jim turned and headed back downstairs to the desk.
“Excuse me,” he greeted the desk clerk. “I’m looking for a Reginald Harkman. I believe he’s staying in room number six, but I can’t seem to catch up with him. Any idea where I might find him?”
The short bespectacled desk clerk looked up at the question, recognizing the man who had previously checked in as Rowan. “Nope, haven’t seen him, or heard him for that matter, all day Mr. Rowan. Lordy, that man is loud. Must have a hearing problem.”
“You didn’t notice him leave today?”
“No, but he could have gone out the back way. All I can tell you, is that he hasn’t stopped by the desk for messages or a newspaper today.”
“Thank you.” Jim tipped his hat and went back outside. He stood, looking up and down the street. Night was coming on and the soft glow of yellow fire light from the windows gave the town an almost mournful appearance. His eyes stopped on the sign for the Livery. There next…he decided and strode impatiently toward the still open doors.
He found the smithy still hard at work, pounding out and shaping a horse shoe. He looked up at Jim’s approach, his sweating torso glad for the interruption and a rest.
The smithy nodded at Jim. “What can I do for you sir?” He asked, noting a strained look on the man’s face.
“I’m looking for a man who may have rented a horse from you earlier today.”
“You a friend of his?”
“Yes, …actually, he’s my partner. His name is Artemus…
“Gordon.” The smithy finished the sentence for him. He was in a little after noon and I provided him with a horse and saddle. He said he’d have the horse back tonight or tomorrow. Is there a problem Mr. …?”
“West. James West. Did he say anything about where he was going?”
“Sure did. He showed me his identification and said he was working with the Calvary, trying to round up that pack of thieves that have been riding ruff shod all over this town. He said he was headed north to join up with some soldiers. Mr. West, I didn’t make him pay anything on that horse. If that animal don’t get returned, I expect the government to pay for it.” He gave Jim a look of no nonsense earnestness.
“You’ll get paid,” Jim answered. “I’m just trying to find him. He didn’t show up where he was supposed to. Did anyone follow him that you noticed?”
“No, I watched him ride out. Didn’t notice anyone pay him any mind.”
Jim pulled out his wallet and handed the smithy several large bills. “Thank you. Will that cover the horse until it gets returned?”
“It certainly will. I appreciate it.” The smithy watched Jim walk down the street to the telegraph office and then he returned to his anvil.
James sent a wire to the train and waited. No reply. He wired the fort, they replied that Mr. Gordon had still not shown up there. Jim then left instructions to be notified at the hotel if any wire came in for him.
Jim walked along the street back to the hotel. Darkness had fallen. It was as black as the towns namesake. He went back to his own room, adjoining Artemus’ room. He sat in deep thought for a long time. Where the devil had Artie disappeared to? A feeling of apprehension was beginning to tighten its grip on him. If Artemus didn’t show up by dawn… Jim rubbed his hands over his face and began to make plans to return to the northern trail to begin his search.
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