Post by Paradox Eyes on Dec 25, 2009 6:10:07 GMT -8
The Night of the Christmas Pony
“What's your name? Who are you?”
“James West...Jim.” Looking up from his bloodied leg, he took in his new companion's disheveled appearance. “I'm a government agent,” he added. He finished tightening the kerchief tourniquet on his right leg. Damn that hurt! Maybe even worse than when Stark's man shot him in almost the same place in that creepy little town of Paradox. He tried to concentrate on her, forget about the leg, Artie should be coming soon anyway.
“That looks bad,” she commented. “You took an awful chance, coming after me like that. Thank you.”
“You're welcome. And besides, it's what I do.” He gave her a small smile. “The leg will heal up just fine. Are you certain you're alright?”
“Oh yes, I'm sure. I just look like I've been thrown from a train.” She gave a short nervous laugh. “Really though, I'm alright. Just bruises and scratches. Nothing worse...they were saving that for later I think...” She swallowed hard and her eyes welled up. “If you hadn't come when you did...if you hadn't...” She snuffed back the emotion. This was no place to fall apart. “They would have killed me you know...after...” The sob overtook her now. “Thank you.” She could barely gasp out the words now. “Thank you for saving my life.” Then, almost as if she was angry with herself, she wiped her eyes on her dirty sleeve. “I'm sorry...we need to keep moving don't we?”
He would have normally put an arm around her, to comfort her, but they were both sitting on the rocky ground and his damaged leg protested with every movement. He reached out and put his hand on her arm. “You're safe now. We'll be fine and we'll get out of here. I promise.” West looked around at the surrounding terrain. “The more distance we can put between them and ourselves, the more likely they'll just give up and move on. Hopefully they haven't found the horse we took yet. As long as they think we're riding, we have a better chance.”
She winced when he mentioned the horse. She thought the only bullet that hit them was the one in West's leg. She still remembered how the horse had suddenly jerked to a stop, shuddered, staggered and then fell with them still on it. They'd ridden the stolen pinto a long way before that happened. Poor creature was bleeding to death with every hurtling stride. They were low down in a canyon, when the horse dropped. She hoped West was right. Hopefully the renegades had given up by then. If they hadn't and they found the dead horse, then they would know their prey was on foot...
“You haven't told me your name.” His question pulled her mind away from the horse's demise.
“Frankie.” She murmured. “Just Frankie.” She forced herself to focus on him. “I thought you knew. I thought my cousin sent you after me.”
“No. We, my partner and I were on another stage, coming out of Cold Creek. We came across what was left of your stage. The driver was still alive. He managed to tell us, 'they took the woman'. Then he died. I caught one of the horses that they didn't take and followed their trail. My partner stayed behind to arrange for help.”
She looked straight through him with hollow eyes, as if she could see the scene from where they sat. “Everyone was killed? Everyone but me? My cousin and I were traveling together. We were going to spend Christmas at his brother's ranch.”
“I'm sorry.”
“She hung her head low for a moment, speaking almost inaudibly as if from a distance, while another tear escaped. “Timothy wanted to go and he wanted me to come too. He thought we'd be fine traveling together. We certainly didn't think about anything like this. We didn't know the Indians were on the warpath again.”
“They're not. These are a small band of renegades who are trying to arouse a breaking of the treaty. They won't succeed, but until they can be rounded up and stopped, I'm afraid more people might die.
She nodded her head in silent understanding. She stood up as West pulled himself to his feet. “Let's go he said, pointing to a distant rock formation. My partner will come through that pass.” He limped a few steps, then stopped and waited for her to follow. She said nothing as they stepped along.
Jim frequently turned and looked behind them and around them. Always alert, always thinking of the next move, should they be discovered. The further distance they managed to put behind them, the more relieved he felt. The young woman still walked in silence. She was lucky to be alive and he was pretty sure she could think of nothing else right now but her cousin, who was not.
He spoke to her, breaking the silence. “Frankie. That's a boys name.”
She walked a few steps further before answering. “Francesca. It's a diminutive of Francesca. My father wanted a boy. He wanted to name him after his father, Frank.”
No last name give he noticed, a cautious trait for the vulnerable or a loner. Leave no trail to follow. “Well you certainly don't look like a boy.” He gritted his teeth at the pain in his leg and smiled, trying to cheer her up. Then he studied her more closely. Under all that dirt and the scratches were the components of a very pretty face.
She half smiled in return. “You're too kind. I'm sure I'm just a sight right now.” She raised a hand to her smudged and bruised face. “You'd never know that just two days ago I was wearing a red satin gown, dancing at a Christmas Ball and chatting with the high society of Denver.”
“That was you? At the Charity Ball the Governor hosted? As I recall there was a strikingly beautiful young woman in a red dress surrounded by a small company of gents awaiting a dance.” He smiled at her in earnest now.
She glanced over at him. “You were there? I don't recall you. Did we not meet? Or did we and I've just forgotten?
“I was. My partner, Artemus Gordon, and I were assigned to escort a visiting dignitary. As much as I would have liked to join your little group and introduce myself, I was on duty and the opportunity never arose.”
“Oh yes. Count Kirtchoff wasn't it? I do recall him arriving with his wife and two rather handsome gentleman following.” She looked him up and down. “I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you. You and your partner looked very fine in your tails. Very fine and very handsome indeed.” She smiled politely.
“Thank you.” Jim nodded. “I doubt I could have gotten anywhere near you anyway. It seemed a particular stately young gentleman made certain you weren't straying too far with anyone else. Your fiance perhaps?” It was hard to keep from grunting every time he put weight on his leg. He tightened his jaw again after asking the question.
She huffed out a quick laugh. “Oh him. That was one Gilbert Collins. He's the son of a very wealthy investor. He's well on his way to becoming wealthy in his own right. He does enjoy making financial acquisitions and owning...things.
“Including you?”
“Yes. I suppose so. I fear it would prove to be a rather bad venture though. I've turned him down twice.”
“Why? With his wealth and influence, not to mention his good looks, he'd be quite a catch for you.”
A flash of irritation briefly flooded her face. “I'm not interested in 'catching' anyone Mr. West. His money, though nice enough I'm sure, isn't incentive enough for me to make that kind of mistake. When I marry, it will be for love. Gilbert's money doesn't interest me and Gilbert even less. He's quite an arrogant, self serving young man. I find it difficult look past that.”
They scrambled down a sharp incline, sliding in the dusty sand. She could see the pain in West's face as he sucked in his breath and kept limping forward. But all he said to her was, “Go on...”
“All I'm saying is, that when I fall in love, I want it to be a great love. The kind you wish for. The kind that makes time stop and lie still... the kind you wait for...until you find it...or it finds you. And if I never find it in this lifetime, then maybe the next...”
“Sounds lonely.” He grunted back.
She gave him a disconcerted look in return. “And what about you?” She asked. “Hmm-mm? Is there a lady fair, a wife or fiance worrying and waiting for your return?”
“No such lady.” He shook his head and kept moving, reaching back to help her step through the loose rocks.
“Perhaps we're two of a kind then. Willful and free, like the wild ponies on the Pampas. We run and we run, until the great fence of fate stops us one day.”
He stopped and looked at her quizzically. “Wild ponies on the Pampas? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that a reference to Argentina?"
“Very good Mr. West! It is indeed. Have you ever been there?” They started walking quicker again.
“Once.” He answered. “A couple of years ago, Artemus and I accompanied a Senator on a diplomatic venture. I can say I saw a lot of things 'wild' but not necessarily 'ponies'. He suddenly yelped and staggered as his foot caught and jolted his injured leg. She grabbed his arm to help steady him.
“Are you alright?” She held on to him as he sat down hard.
“I'm fine.” He lied. He loosened the tourniquet for a moment. They both stared at the wound, which still bled freely.
“It's never going to stop bleeding until you stay off of it for a while.” She watched him re-tighten the tourniquet.”
“I don't have that choice right now. We need to keep going.” He pulled himself back up. “What were you doing in Argentina?” He asked, hoping the talk would distract him.
Her face was more relaxed now. “My father was a botanist. I was a little girl at the time. My mother had died when I was quite young. Father took me along on his trips. We traveled in South America for a while, collecting samples. That's how I got to see them. The wild ponies, running free through the tall grass.”
Jim watched the memories glow in her face. He smiled back at her. The conversation was a good diversion from the threat behind and the pain below.
“It was Christmas time also that year, when I first saw them. Then later in the town, the little church was selling chances to win a Christmas Pony. A sleek black pony from the Pampas, tamed and broken, wearing a large red bow around his neck. They were trying to raise money for the orphanage. I begged my father to buy a ticket. I wanted that pony so badly.”
WZZzzzzzzzz. CRACK!! The bullet hit the rock next to him.
In an instant he grabbed her and shoved her ahead of him until they were deep in the rocks. He could hear her panting in terror as he surveyed the rocks above them. He held his pistol at the ready while he reached inside his jacket and pulled out his small derringer.
“Can you shoot a gun?” He asked her.
Her gray eyes widened, but she quickly shook her head yes. He placed the small gun in her shaking hand.
“I'm going to climb up higher. You stay here. Stay down! If any of them come at you...use it.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
As he moved to go, she suddenly found her voice. “Jim?” He turned back toward her. “Are the bullets big enough to kill quickly?”
He smirked. “It'll get the job done. Aim for the chest.”
“Will a single bullet to the head kill quickly?” The question was almost a whisper.
This time he knew exactly what she meant. It occurred to him that she was a chilling combination of fear, poise and courage. “Yes.” He answered quietly. “But that isn't going to be necessary. They're not taking you again. You have my word. Just stay here. Don't move from here. I'll be back.”
She brought the gun up, nodding her acknowledgment. This time he noted her hand did not shake. He climbed quickly upward. Shots rang out, striking near him.
The moments passed as if everything was in slow motion, everything but pounding heartbeats. And even those jolted to a quick halt every time a shot blasted in the still air. The shots repeated time and time again. And then a long hollow scream hung in the air. It was enough to raise every hair follicle on edge. And still the moments passed. More shots rang out.
Then the silence came. The kind that comes creeping with uncertainty. It seemed more deadly than the gun shots themselves.
The trail of blood went both ways. Once upward with small droplets occasionally here and there. And once again, downward. The drops were more frequent this time accompanied by swipes of crimson against the rock. Jim was starting to feel woozy with the first effects of blood loss from the leg wound. He shook his head to clear it away. He dropped down on his haunches and slid the rest of the way to the level where he'd left her. The gravel scurried and scattered ahead of him making too much noise. He stopped and listened, gun at the ready, prepared for the best or the worst. Silence. Was she still there? Had he miscalculated and another of the renegades had gotten to her? He eased around the rock and came nose to barrel with the derringer.
“Easy!” He grabbed her wrist and pointed it away. She didn't pull the trigger, thank goodness. They both huffed in relief.
“You alright?” He asked.
Her back slid down along the rock until she sat. She rubbed shaky hands across her face and tucked errant strands of dark auburn hair behind her ear. A moment later she answered. “Yes...I'm fine now. Are they dead?”
“Two are. One rode away. But I think they're done now. We come too far for them to waste the time on following two people on foot in the badlands. They'll let nature do us in. At least, that's hopefully what they'll decide.”
“Are you certain your partner, Mr...Gordon? Are you certain he can find us?”
“Artie will find us. Don't worry.” He helped her back up.
She stared down at his blood soaked boot. “Your leg is bleeding worse now. We should bind it up.” She reached down pulled her traveling skirt out of the way. Grabbing the bottom ruffle on her petticoat, she ripped it loose all the way around. “I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier. Here...a ruffle has a lot of yardage in it, you can wrap it several times. It should help.”
He studied her now, trying to understand her, only half hearing what she was saying. He couldn't help wondering. “Would you have done it?”
“Done what?” She looked him in the eye.
He looked past her up at the rocks. “The derringer. If I hadn't come back and they came for you and you couldn't stop them. Would you have...”
Her mouth fell open just a bit and she looked away. She seemed to be searching inside for the answer. “I don't know...I suppose one cannot know until...until that moment, that second, that decision. You just can't be certain of what you'll do.” She looked back at him. “That's not a very good answer, is it?”
Jim quietly regarded her and finally said. “I think it was the perfect answer.” He sat down again and took the long strip of cloth. “Thanks. I really didn't think it would keep bleeding like this. It didn't the last time.”
“The last time?!”
“Yeah...Artie and I imprisoned a murderer several years back. He managed to escape from prison and he came up with a pretty creative way to get back at us. His name was Emmet Stark...” He told her a short version of the the masks and the town of Paradox while he wrapped his leg.
When he finished, she shook her head slowly, smiling at him. “And still...as dangerous as it all is...you like the work you do?”
“Yes ma'am,” he grinned back. “Alright, we need to get going again. Come on 'Frankie'.” He took her hand and led her down along the rocks until the way was easier to traverse. He was limping even worse than before but at least now the wound had pressure on it from the bandaging.
“Tell me more about your Christmas Pony. It helps me not think about my leg.”
“Well, there's not much to tell about the pony. I didn't win it.” She stopped speaking for a moment, considering whether or not to continue and then... “I was heartbroken of course. A little girl wants what a little girl wants. Never mind that we were living out of trunks in hotel rooms and had no means to take on a pony. Of course those were not things I considered at the time. Then my father, whom I knew to be the wisest man on earth sat me down and set me straight. He had once been an Army officer and after pointing out the logistics of the matter, he also told me...there's a lesson to start learning here Frankie. Romance and love are like a Christmas pony. This you will learn when you grow older. What the heart wants is not necessarily what the heart needs.”
“That Christmas pony,” my father said, “may be have pulled your heartstrings right around the possibilities, but you knew, didn't you, that we couldn't take on a pony. You just knew you wanted to win it, whether it was friendly, handsome or winsome, and others wanted it too, you wanted to make it your very own, to show those others it was yours, didn't you?”
“Well, yes...I suppose so. I remember telling him. I wanted that pony for my very own, that much was certain. Then my father said, that's the point here Frankie, when you grow up, you may find yourself wanting something that's not right for you. You're going to have to learn to teach your heart to choose carefully. She laughed softly. That was the first of many such lectures regarding the importance of the Christmas Pony incident.”
Jim smiled. “And did you learn your lessons?”
“Needless to say, by the time I was old enough to receive gentleman callers my father had me eying them all quite critically. Choose carefully Frankie, he'd say. They all became 'Christmas Ponies' and I'd have to decide which one I wanted to to win, if any of them.”
“Then one day, the realization hit me...that I was the Christmas Pony! A pretty face to be won, owned, paraded about and shown off. That was a rather sobering thought. I often wonder if some of them are even curious about what might be behind the face.
“But still you wait for your knight in shining armor to show up?” Jim commented with a grin.
“I do!”
“You're quite the romantic Frankie.”
“I am!” She laughed at herself.
Frankie continued. I can't believe I just told you that story, the only other person who knows it is Timothy. I mean...he was...he knew it.” She looked sadly at the ground. “He used to tease me about it. Sometimes he'd introduce me to his friends as 'My Cousin, the Christmas Pony' but never tell them why. It was our own private little joke.” Then turning a raised eyebrow to the limping agent, she inquired, hoping to change to course of the conversation away from herself. “And what about you Mr. West? Are you a romantic...or are you all deadly business all the time?”
“I can be very romantic!” He defended himself. “If my leg wasn't killing me, I'd have kissed you a while ago.”
She laughed out loud now. “You are an amusing man Jim West!”
“You think I'm joking?”
“OH NO!” She said with great exaggeration. “I'm sure you start every day wondering how you're ever going to meet a girl who looks good in matted hair, dirt, scratches, bruises and torn ruffles!”
They stopped again. “So now you're a mind reader?” He laughed with her. “Besides, it's hard to find a girl like that.”
He stepped closer to her now, looking into her bright eyes. She returned the gaze thinking, a girl could get lost in those gorgeous eyes of his. Her fathers voice echoed...”Be cautious Frankie my girl. Jim leaned in to kiss her.
“Be careful you don't muss my Christmas bow.” She whispered.
He smiled. “I'll be very careful.”
Their lips had nearly touched when the strange sight behind him caught her attention. She stretched her neck to look past him. “WHAT'S THAT??”
Jim quickly whirled around to look just in time to see the flare burst high up in the sky. “Artie! He's at the pass!” Jim quickly sat down and removed his boot.
Frankie watched in wonder as he removed pieces of some unidentifiable creation. He snapped the pieces together making two smaller objects. He inserted one into the barrel of his pistol. Then raising it high, he fired. It arched through the air making a loud hissing sound, then it exploded, a companion flare to the one she'd just seen in the distance. Jim repeated the process and sent a second one up. “One means stay put, two mean come ahead, I need help.” He explained.
“You carry explosive flares in your boots?!” She asked in disbelief. She stared upward, gaping as it bloomed above them. “First you come flying into the renegade's camp on some sort of cable and pulley device, yanking me out of their midst. Then you threw smoke bombs when we ran. You carry extra guns in your jacket and now this. It's a miracle you didn't explode on impact when our horse went down!!” She gave him a look of incredulity.
“In our line of work, we need to be prepared. Besides, Artemus is very careful when he designs these things.” He grinned at her. “He's always saying he doesn't want to break in a new partner.”
“Well you two must be a pair to be reckoned with! I can't wait to meet him. Now what?”
“We keep going and give them a chance to get closer, then I'll set off something else so they can find us quicker.”
“Are you sure you can keep walking Jim? You don't look well at all.”
“I'm fine. I'll rest when we're safely out of these badlands.” He forced himself to get up and move on. They headed for the open flat ground.
A short time later, they could see the dust rising from the approaching horses in the distance. Jim lit another smoke bomb and let it smolder, sending up a plume that could easily be seen. They waited now.
A dozen horseman appeared now. Calvary men. Jim could see Artemus riding alongside the lead horse. They finally arrived and dismounted.
“Jim!” Artemus called out. He and the lead officer hurried up to them.
“Are you alright ma'am? We have a medic with us.” Sargent Milford directed his questions at Frankie while Artemus gave Jim a worried look.
“I'm fine. Really. But Mr. West has been shot. He needs a doctor.”
The Sargent waived his medic over and then took Frankie aside to talk to her and ask her a few more questions.
“Jim, how bad is the leg?” Artie asked, taking him by the arm to steady him. “Buddy you don't look too good.”
“My leg will be fine Artie.” Jim answered stubbornly. “I just don't feel real great right now. And you know how much I hate to admit...” His words and the last of the color in his face left him and he fell forward.
“Jimmm!” Artie caught him and eased him onto his back on the ground. The medic was at his side in an instant.
Frankie turned around, seeing them hover over West's now still body on the ground. “Jim...?” She ran back and dropped down on her knees beside him. “Is he going to be alright? He's not dead...is he?”
“No! Of course not!” Artie quickly answered to calm her. “ We just need to get him back to the fort and get that leg taken care of. He's lost a lot of blood but he'll be fine. I'm certain of it.” He cast a worried questioning look at the medic.
The medic looked up at her. “He'll be fine ma'am. We've brought a wagon. He just needs to rest and stay off that leg once we get him fixed up. Are you sure you're alright?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She never looked up from Jim's face. “And thank you too.” She whispered. Then placing two fingers on her lips, she reached down and gently touched the kiss to his lips. “Merry Christmas Jim.”
The wagon pulled up and she and Artemus watched the soldiers lift him into the back. Artie turned to her and spoke. “We haven't been introduced. I'm Artemus Gordon, Jim West's partner.” He took in her sad and exhausted facial expression.
“Yes I know, he spoke of you. You'll take good care him won't you? He saved my life you know... You'll tell him goodbye for me?”
“Aren't you coming with us? Back to the fort? Miss...uh...?”
“Francesca. And no. The Sargent is allowing me to have a few of his men to accompany me back to town. I need to make arrangements for my cousin's body. Then I want to go home as soon as possible. I've had quite of enough of the Holiday Season for one year. She looked at him with tired eyes. “But it was a pleasure to meet you Sir. Thank you for coming after us and bringing help.” She held out her hand.
Artemus nodded and took her hand briefly. “I'm sorry about your cousin. If there's anything we can do...”
“Thank you.”
“You haven't mentioned your last name Miss...”
“I'm just 'Frankie' to most. Merry Christmas to you Mr. Gordon. And goodbye.” And with that she walked away toward the waiting soldiers.
<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>
Five days later, Jim West sat on the gold sofa on the Varnish car. He waited, dressed in his formal evening wear, for Artie's return. He grimaced at his leg, now propped up on a pillow on the coffee table. It was Christmas Eve and there would be no dancing for him tonight. But at least he could go to dinner with Artie and his date. They'd only arrived in Denver this morning and Artie had run into an old acquaintance. Jim grinned. He was certain that Artemus had done some pretty fast talking to smooth the young ladies ruffled feathers from their last meeting in Virginia City.
He retrieved a folded piece of paper from his vest pocket and smiled. It had taken up most of the few hours that Artie had been gone, but after several telegraph exchanges and a couple of favors, he had what he wanted; a house number and a street name. He tucked the note back into his vest as the rear door opened.
He turned to watch as Artemus ushered a radiant young blonde haired woman into the car.
“James, I want you to meet Velia Marsh. Velia, this is my partner James West.”
Velia Marsh walked over to to sofa holding out her hand. “How you do Mr. West. Artemus has told me so much about you! Why if he hadn't explained all about what happened in that awful make believe town of Paradox last year...well...I just don't know if I'd have ever forgiven him for leaving me in that restaurant!” She beamed a wide smile at Artie. “But you certainly are forgiven now! I just can't wait for us all to have a lovely Christmas Eve dinner!”
“It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Marsh, just call me Jim.” He pulled himself to his feet.
“Oh Jim, you poor dear! Shot in the very same leg again! My, my, my! What dangerous and exciting lives you two lead!” She looked from one to the other. “Porcelain door handle salesman indeed. I'll never forget that one Artemus! Did he tell you Jim? Did he tell you that he tried to pass himself off as a porcelain door handle salesman when we met?”
Jim laughed as Artie rolled his eyes. “Why no. You forgot to mention that to me Artie.”
“Well he explained all of it to me!” Velia contined. “You know...how the porcelain door handle business is just a clever disquise for the Secret Service work you do. And how the sales talk is just code words so you can communicate in secret. It's all just so exciting!!”
“Uhh...ahem...” Artie tried to change the subject. “Why don't we have a little champagne before we head out for the restaurant? Hmmm....? There's plenty of time.” He quickly headed to the table where the bottle was chilling in ice.
“It's a shame you weren't able to get a date for this evening Jim.” Velia chirped.
“Well I promised the porcelain door handle salesman that I wouldn't overdo on the leg. I can't dance so I'm sure I wouldn't be a very entertaining escort for a young lady this evening.”
“Here we go Velia my dear!” Artemus swept over to her with a glass of champagne.
“I'll just leave you two to enjoy the champagne.” Jim said suddenly. “I have an errand to run. I'll meet you at the restaurant. I have a carriage waiting.”
Artie's jaw dropped. “Errand?? What errand? Jim, where could you possibly need to go right now?” He gave his partner an irritated look, then his face relaxed. “You're not going out to get my Christmas present are you? You know that's not necessary Jim. Stay here and relax!”
Jim blinked at him. “Your Christmas present? Artieeee, I got that months ago and it's hidden where you'll NEVER find it!” He grinned wickedly.
“Oh reeealleeee....” Artie rose to the challenge.
Satisfied that Artie was sufficiently distracted, Jim grabbed his cape and hat, quickly hobbling to the door.
“Jim! Where are you going? Jim?!”
“Artie!” Jim leaned back still grinning as he stepped through the door. “It's Christmas Eve! I'm going to take a chance on a Christmas Pony!” He closed the door behind him.
“A Christmas Pony?!” Artie stared at the door, mouth open. “What in the....?”
“Artemus! Aren't we going to drink our champagne before it goes flat?” Velia interrupted him.
Artie turned back to Velia. “What?...Oh of course my dear!” They intertwined their arms and sipped. But Artie's mind was wandering.
“Delicious!” Velia cooed with a crinkled little nose. “Your partner is a little eccentric isn't he? I mean going out like that to buy a chance on a Christmas Pony on Christmas Eve? I don't recall one even being offered in town this year. Usually the Hotels post that sort of thing.”
“There isn't one?” Artemus looked at her with a pinched brow.
She took another sip from her glass and suddenly her eyes widened. “OH!” She looked at Artemus. “Oh my! It's a code word isn't it?!”
“What?”
“Your partner...Christmas Pony is a code word isn't it? Like the porcelain door handle business. Is he going out to do something terribly dangerous? Is he Artemus??”
“Dangerous?” Artie looked at the door again. Jim couldn't possibly have gotten himself involved in any kind of trouble while I was gone. Could he? It was only a couple of hours...
“Artemus Gordon! Tell me you are not going to leave me sitting at the restaurant alone with a plate of escargot for company while you run off to rescue him again! You wouldn't, would you?”
“Of course not Velia my sweet dove! I would never do that to you again!” At least I hope I don't have to...Jim wouldn't...he couldn't disappear tonight....would he?
Artie cast a suspicious look at the door, the image of Jim West exiting through it still in his mind.
“Artemus!! Are you paying attention?” Velia clinked her glass to his. “I said, Merry Christmas!”
“Huh? Oh...yes. Merry Christmas Velia!”
“A Christmas Pony”
! He mulled it over. Where am I supposed to start with that?
<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<> The End. <>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>
Merry Christmas everyone!
~Paradox Eyes 2009
“What's your name? Who are you?”
“James West...Jim.” Looking up from his bloodied leg, he took in his new companion's disheveled appearance. “I'm a government agent,” he added. He finished tightening the kerchief tourniquet on his right leg. Damn that hurt! Maybe even worse than when Stark's man shot him in almost the same place in that creepy little town of Paradox. He tried to concentrate on her, forget about the leg, Artie should be coming soon anyway.
“That looks bad,” she commented. “You took an awful chance, coming after me like that. Thank you.”
“You're welcome. And besides, it's what I do.” He gave her a small smile. “The leg will heal up just fine. Are you certain you're alright?”
“Oh yes, I'm sure. I just look like I've been thrown from a train.” She gave a short nervous laugh. “Really though, I'm alright. Just bruises and scratches. Nothing worse...they were saving that for later I think...” She swallowed hard and her eyes welled up. “If you hadn't come when you did...if you hadn't...” She snuffed back the emotion. This was no place to fall apart. “They would have killed me you know...after...” The sob overtook her now. “Thank you.” She could barely gasp out the words now. “Thank you for saving my life.” Then, almost as if she was angry with herself, she wiped her eyes on her dirty sleeve. “I'm sorry...we need to keep moving don't we?”
He would have normally put an arm around her, to comfort her, but they were both sitting on the rocky ground and his damaged leg protested with every movement. He reached out and put his hand on her arm. “You're safe now. We'll be fine and we'll get out of here. I promise.” West looked around at the surrounding terrain. “The more distance we can put between them and ourselves, the more likely they'll just give up and move on. Hopefully they haven't found the horse we took yet. As long as they think we're riding, we have a better chance.”
She winced when he mentioned the horse. She thought the only bullet that hit them was the one in West's leg. She still remembered how the horse had suddenly jerked to a stop, shuddered, staggered and then fell with them still on it. They'd ridden the stolen pinto a long way before that happened. Poor creature was bleeding to death with every hurtling stride. They were low down in a canyon, when the horse dropped. She hoped West was right. Hopefully the renegades had given up by then. If they hadn't and they found the dead horse, then they would know their prey was on foot...
“You haven't told me your name.” His question pulled her mind away from the horse's demise.
“Frankie.” She murmured. “Just Frankie.” She forced herself to focus on him. “I thought you knew. I thought my cousin sent you after me.”
“No. We, my partner and I were on another stage, coming out of Cold Creek. We came across what was left of your stage. The driver was still alive. He managed to tell us, 'they took the woman'. Then he died. I caught one of the horses that they didn't take and followed their trail. My partner stayed behind to arrange for help.”
She looked straight through him with hollow eyes, as if she could see the scene from where they sat. “Everyone was killed? Everyone but me? My cousin and I were traveling together. We were going to spend Christmas at his brother's ranch.”
“I'm sorry.”
“She hung her head low for a moment, speaking almost inaudibly as if from a distance, while another tear escaped. “Timothy wanted to go and he wanted me to come too. He thought we'd be fine traveling together. We certainly didn't think about anything like this. We didn't know the Indians were on the warpath again.”
“They're not. These are a small band of renegades who are trying to arouse a breaking of the treaty. They won't succeed, but until they can be rounded up and stopped, I'm afraid more people might die.
She nodded her head in silent understanding. She stood up as West pulled himself to his feet. “Let's go he said, pointing to a distant rock formation. My partner will come through that pass.” He limped a few steps, then stopped and waited for her to follow. She said nothing as they stepped along.
Jim frequently turned and looked behind them and around them. Always alert, always thinking of the next move, should they be discovered. The further distance they managed to put behind them, the more relieved he felt. The young woman still walked in silence. She was lucky to be alive and he was pretty sure she could think of nothing else right now but her cousin, who was not.
He spoke to her, breaking the silence. “Frankie. That's a boys name.”
She walked a few steps further before answering. “Francesca. It's a diminutive of Francesca. My father wanted a boy. He wanted to name him after his father, Frank.”
No last name give he noticed, a cautious trait for the vulnerable or a loner. Leave no trail to follow. “Well you certainly don't look like a boy.” He gritted his teeth at the pain in his leg and smiled, trying to cheer her up. Then he studied her more closely. Under all that dirt and the scratches were the components of a very pretty face.
She half smiled in return. “You're too kind. I'm sure I'm just a sight right now.” She raised a hand to her smudged and bruised face. “You'd never know that just two days ago I was wearing a red satin gown, dancing at a Christmas Ball and chatting with the high society of Denver.”
“That was you? At the Charity Ball the Governor hosted? As I recall there was a strikingly beautiful young woman in a red dress surrounded by a small company of gents awaiting a dance.” He smiled at her in earnest now.
She glanced over at him. “You were there? I don't recall you. Did we not meet? Or did we and I've just forgotten?
“I was. My partner, Artemus Gordon, and I were assigned to escort a visiting dignitary. As much as I would have liked to join your little group and introduce myself, I was on duty and the opportunity never arose.”
“Oh yes. Count Kirtchoff wasn't it? I do recall him arriving with his wife and two rather handsome gentleman following.” She looked him up and down. “I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you. You and your partner looked very fine in your tails. Very fine and very handsome indeed.” She smiled politely.
“Thank you.” Jim nodded. “I doubt I could have gotten anywhere near you anyway. It seemed a particular stately young gentleman made certain you weren't straying too far with anyone else. Your fiance perhaps?” It was hard to keep from grunting every time he put weight on his leg. He tightened his jaw again after asking the question.
She huffed out a quick laugh. “Oh him. That was one Gilbert Collins. He's the son of a very wealthy investor. He's well on his way to becoming wealthy in his own right. He does enjoy making financial acquisitions and owning...things.
“Including you?”
“Yes. I suppose so. I fear it would prove to be a rather bad venture though. I've turned him down twice.”
“Why? With his wealth and influence, not to mention his good looks, he'd be quite a catch for you.”
A flash of irritation briefly flooded her face. “I'm not interested in 'catching' anyone Mr. West. His money, though nice enough I'm sure, isn't incentive enough for me to make that kind of mistake. When I marry, it will be for love. Gilbert's money doesn't interest me and Gilbert even less. He's quite an arrogant, self serving young man. I find it difficult look past that.”
They scrambled down a sharp incline, sliding in the dusty sand. She could see the pain in West's face as he sucked in his breath and kept limping forward. But all he said to her was, “Go on...”
“All I'm saying is, that when I fall in love, I want it to be a great love. The kind you wish for. The kind that makes time stop and lie still... the kind you wait for...until you find it...or it finds you. And if I never find it in this lifetime, then maybe the next...”
“Sounds lonely.” He grunted back.
She gave him a disconcerted look in return. “And what about you?” She asked. “Hmm-mm? Is there a lady fair, a wife or fiance worrying and waiting for your return?”
“No such lady.” He shook his head and kept moving, reaching back to help her step through the loose rocks.
“Perhaps we're two of a kind then. Willful and free, like the wild ponies on the Pampas. We run and we run, until the great fence of fate stops us one day.”
He stopped and looked at her quizzically. “Wild ponies on the Pampas? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that a reference to Argentina?"
“Very good Mr. West! It is indeed. Have you ever been there?” They started walking quicker again.
“Once.” He answered. “A couple of years ago, Artemus and I accompanied a Senator on a diplomatic venture. I can say I saw a lot of things 'wild' but not necessarily 'ponies'. He suddenly yelped and staggered as his foot caught and jolted his injured leg. She grabbed his arm to help steady him.
“Are you alright?” She held on to him as he sat down hard.
“I'm fine.” He lied. He loosened the tourniquet for a moment. They both stared at the wound, which still bled freely.
“It's never going to stop bleeding until you stay off of it for a while.” She watched him re-tighten the tourniquet.”
“I don't have that choice right now. We need to keep going.” He pulled himself back up. “What were you doing in Argentina?” He asked, hoping the talk would distract him.
Her face was more relaxed now. “My father was a botanist. I was a little girl at the time. My mother had died when I was quite young. Father took me along on his trips. We traveled in South America for a while, collecting samples. That's how I got to see them. The wild ponies, running free through the tall grass.”
Jim watched the memories glow in her face. He smiled back at her. The conversation was a good diversion from the threat behind and the pain below.
“It was Christmas time also that year, when I first saw them. Then later in the town, the little church was selling chances to win a Christmas Pony. A sleek black pony from the Pampas, tamed and broken, wearing a large red bow around his neck. They were trying to raise money for the orphanage. I begged my father to buy a ticket. I wanted that pony so badly.”
WZZzzzzzzzz. CRACK!! The bullet hit the rock next to him.
In an instant he grabbed her and shoved her ahead of him until they were deep in the rocks. He could hear her panting in terror as he surveyed the rocks above them. He held his pistol at the ready while he reached inside his jacket and pulled out his small derringer.
“Can you shoot a gun?” He asked her.
Her gray eyes widened, but she quickly shook her head yes. He placed the small gun in her shaking hand.
“I'm going to climb up higher. You stay here. Stay down! If any of them come at you...use it.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
As he moved to go, she suddenly found her voice. “Jim?” He turned back toward her. “Are the bullets big enough to kill quickly?”
He smirked. “It'll get the job done. Aim for the chest.”
“Will a single bullet to the head kill quickly?” The question was almost a whisper.
This time he knew exactly what she meant. It occurred to him that she was a chilling combination of fear, poise and courage. “Yes.” He answered quietly. “But that isn't going to be necessary. They're not taking you again. You have my word. Just stay here. Don't move from here. I'll be back.”
She brought the gun up, nodding her acknowledgment. This time he noted her hand did not shake. He climbed quickly upward. Shots rang out, striking near him.
The moments passed as if everything was in slow motion, everything but pounding heartbeats. And even those jolted to a quick halt every time a shot blasted in the still air. The shots repeated time and time again. And then a long hollow scream hung in the air. It was enough to raise every hair follicle on edge. And still the moments passed. More shots rang out.
Then the silence came. The kind that comes creeping with uncertainty. It seemed more deadly than the gun shots themselves.
The trail of blood went both ways. Once upward with small droplets occasionally here and there. And once again, downward. The drops were more frequent this time accompanied by swipes of crimson against the rock. Jim was starting to feel woozy with the first effects of blood loss from the leg wound. He shook his head to clear it away. He dropped down on his haunches and slid the rest of the way to the level where he'd left her. The gravel scurried and scattered ahead of him making too much noise. He stopped and listened, gun at the ready, prepared for the best or the worst. Silence. Was she still there? Had he miscalculated and another of the renegades had gotten to her? He eased around the rock and came nose to barrel with the derringer.
“Easy!” He grabbed her wrist and pointed it away. She didn't pull the trigger, thank goodness. They both huffed in relief.
“You alright?” He asked.
Her back slid down along the rock until she sat. She rubbed shaky hands across her face and tucked errant strands of dark auburn hair behind her ear. A moment later she answered. “Yes...I'm fine now. Are they dead?”
“Two are. One rode away. But I think they're done now. We come too far for them to waste the time on following two people on foot in the badlands. They'll let nature do us in. At least, that's hopefully what they'll decide.”
“Are you certain your partner, Mr...Gordon? Are you certain he can find us?”
“Artie will find us. Don't worry.” He helped her back up.
She stared down at his blood soaked boot. “Your leg is bleeding worse now. We should bind it up.” She reached down pulled her traveling skirt out of the way. Grabbing the bottom ruffle on her petticoat, she ripped it loose all the way around. “I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier. Here...a ruffle has a lot of yardage in it, you can wrap it several times. It should help.”
He studied her now, trying to understand her, only half hearing what she was saying. He couldn't help wondering. “Would you have done it?”
“Done what?” She looked him in the eye.
He looked past her up at the rocks. “The derringer. If I hadn't come back and they came for you and you couldn't stop them. Would you have...”
Her mouth fell open just a bit and she looked away. She seemed to be searching inside for the answer. “I don't know...I suppose one cannot know until...until that moment, that second, that decision. You just can't be certain of what you'll do.” She looked back at him. “That's not a very good answer, is it?”
Jim quietly regarded her and finally said. “I think it was the perfect answer.” He sat down again and took the long strip of cloth. “Thanks. I really didn't think it would keep bleeding like this. It didn't the last time.”
“The last time?!”
“Yeah...Artie and I imprisoned a murderer several years back. He managed to escape from prison and he came up with a pretty creative way to get back at us. His name was Emmet Stark...” He told her a short version of the the masks and the town of Paradox while he wrapped his leg.
When he finished, she shook her head slowly, smiling at him. “And still...as dangerous as it all is...you like the work you do?”
“Yes ma'am,” he grinned back. “Alright, we need to get going again. Come on 'Frankie'.” He took her hand and led her down along the rocks until the way was easier to traverse. He was limping even worse than before but at least now the wound had pressure on it from the bandaging.
“Tell me more about your Christmas Pony. It helps me not think about my leg.”
“Well, there's not much to tell about the pony. I didn't win it.” She stopped speaking for a moment, considering whether or not to continue and then... “I was heartbroken of course. A little girl wants what a little girl wants. Never mind that we were living out of trunks in hotel rooms and had no means to take on a pony. Of course those were not things I considered at the time. Then my father, whom I knew to be the wisest man on earth sat me down and set me straight. He had once been an Army officer and after pointing out the logistics of the matter, he also told me...there's a lesson to start learning here Frankie. Romance and love are like a Christmas pony. This you will learn when you grow older. What the heart wants is not necessarily what the heart needs.”
“That Christmas pony,” my father said, “may be have pulled your heartstrings right around the possibilities, but you knew, didn't you, that we couldn't take on a pony. You just knew you wanted to win it, whether it was friendly, handsome or winsome, and others wanted it too, you wanted to make it your very own, to show those others it was yours, didn't you?”
“Well, yes...I suppose so. I remember telling him. I wanted that pony for my very own, that much was certain. Then my father said, that's the point here Frankie, when you grow up, you may find yourself wanting something that's not right for you. You're going to have to learn to teach your heart to choose carefully. She laughed softly. That was the first of many such lectures regarding the importance of the Christmas Pony incident.”
Jim smiled. “And did you learn your lessons?”
“Needless to say, by the time I was old enough to receive gentleman callers my father had me eying them all quite critically. Choose carefully Frankie, he'd say. They all became 'Christmas Ponies' and I'd have to decide which one I wanted to to win, if any of them.”
“Then one day, the realization hit me...that I was the Christmas Pony! A pretty face to be won, owned, paraded about and shown off. That was a rather sobering thought. I often wonder if some of them are even curious about what might be behind the face.
“But still you wait for your knight in shining armor to show up?” Jim commented with a grin.
“I do!”
“You're quite the romantic Frankie.”
“I am!” She laughed at herself.
Frankie continued. I can't believe I just told you that story, the only other person who knows it is Timothy. I mean...he was...he knew it.” She looked sadly at the ground. “He used to tease me about it. Sometimes he'd introduce me to his friends as 'My Cousin, the Christmas Pony' but never tell them why. It was our own private little joke.” Then turning a raised eyebrow to the limping agent, she inquired, hoping to change to course of the conversation away from herself. “And what about you Mr. West? Are you a romantic...or are you all deadly business all the time?”
“I can be very romantic!” He defended himself. “If my leg wasn't killing me, I'd have kissed you a while ago.”
She laughed out loud now. “You are an amusing man Jim West!”
“You think I'm joking?”
“OH NO!” She said with great exaggeration. “I'm sure you start every day wondering how you're ever going to meet a girl who looks good in matted hair, dirt, scratches, bruises and torn ruffles!”
They stopped again. “So now you're a mind reader?” He laughed with her. “Besides, it's hard to find a girl like that.”
He stepped closer to her now, looking into her bright eyes. She returned the gaze thinking, a girl could get lost in those gorgeous eyes of his. Her fathers voice echoed...”Be cautious Frankie my girl. Jim leaned in to kiss her.
“Be careful you don't muss my Christmas bow.” She whispered.
He smiled. “I'll be very careful.”
Their lips had nearly touched when the strange sight behind him caught her attention. She stretched her neck to look past him. “WHAT'S THAT??”
Jim quickly whirled around to look just in time to see the flare burst high up in the sky. “Artie! He's at the pass!” Jim quickly sat down and removed his boot.
Frankie watched in wonder as he removed pieces of some unidentifiable creation. He snapped the pieces together making two smaller objects. He inserted one into the barrel of his pistol. Then raising it high, he fired. It arched through the air making a loud hissing sound, then it exploded, a companion flare to the one she'd just seen in the distance. Jim repeated the process and sent a second one up. “One means stay put, two mean come ahead, I need help.” He explained.
“You carry explosive flares in your boots?!” She asked in disbelief. She stared upward, gaping as it bloomed above them. “First you come flying into the renegade's camp on some sort of cable and pulley device, yanking me out of their midst. Then you threw smoke bombs when we ran. You carry extra guns in your jacket and now this. It's a miracle you didn't explode on impact when our horse went down!!” She gave him a look of incredulity.
“In our line of work, we need to be prepared. Besides, Artemus is very careful when he designs these things.” He grinned at her. “He's always saying he doesn't want to break in a new partner.”
“Well you two must be a pair to be reckoned with! I can't wait to meet him. Now what?”
“We keep going and give them a chance to get closer, then I'll set off something else so they can find us quicker.”
“Are you sure you can keep walking Jim? You don't look well at all.”
“I'm fine. I'll rest when we're safely out of these badlands.” He forced himself to get up and move on. They headed for the open flat ground.
A short time later, they could see the dust rising from the approaching horses in the distance. Jim lit another smoke bomb and let it smolder, sending up a plume that could easily be seen. They waited now.
A dozen horseman appeared now. Calvary men. Jim could see Artemus riding alongside the lead horse. They finally arrived and dismounted.
“Jim!” Artemus called out. He and the lead officer hurried up to them.
“Are you alright ma'am? We have a medic with us.” Sargent Milford directed his questions at Frankie while Artemus gave Jim a worried look.
“I'm fine. Really. But Mr. West has been shot. He needs a doctor.”
The Sargent waived his medic over and then took Frankie aside to talk to her and ask her a few more questions.
“Jim, how bad is the leg?” Artie asked, taking him by the arm to steady him. “Buddy you don't look too good.”
“My leg will be fine Artie.” Jim answered stubbornly. “I just don't feel real great right now. And you know how much I hate to admit...” His words and the last of the color in his face left him and he fell forward.
“Jimmm!” Artie caught him and eased him onto his back on the ground. The medic was at his side in an instant.
Frankie turned around, seeing them hover over West's now still body on the ground. “Jim...?” She ran back and dropped down on her knees beside him. “Is he going to be alright? He's not dead...is he?”
“No! Of course not!” Artie quickly answered to calm her. “ We just need to get him back to the fort and get that leg taken care of. He's lost a lot of blood but he'll be fine. I'm certain of it.” He cast a worried questioning look at the medic.
The medic looked up at her. “He'll be fine ma'am. We've brought a wagon. He just needs to rest and stay off that leg once we get him fixed up. Are you sure you're alright?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She never looked up from Jim's face. “And thank you too.” She whispered. Then placing two fingers on her lips, she reached down and gently touched the kiss to his lips. “Merry Christmas Jim.”
The wagon pulled up and she and Artemus watched the soldiers lift him into the back. Artie turned to her and spoke. “We haven't been introduced. I'm Artemus Gordon, Jim West's partner.” He took in her sad and exhausted facial expression.
“Yes I know, he spoke of you. You'll take good care him won't you? He saved my life you know... You'll tell him goodbye for me?”
“Aren't you coming with us? Back to the fort? Miss...uh...?”
“Francesca. And no. The Sargent is allowing me to have a few of his men to accompany me back to town. I need to make arrangements for my cousin's body. Then I want to go home as soon as possible. I've had quite of enough of the Holiday Season for one year. She looked at him with tired eyes. “But it was a pleasure to meet you Sir. Thank you for coming after us and bringing help.” She held out her hand.
Artemus nodded and took her hand briefly. “I'm sorry about your cousin. If there's anything we can do...”
“Thank you.”
“You haven't mentioned your last name Miss...”
“I'm just 'Frankie' to most. Merry Christmas to you Mr. Gordon. And goodbye.” And with that she walked away toward the waiting soldiers.
<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>
Five days later, Jim West sat on the gold sofa on the Varnish car. He waited, dressed in his formal evening wear, for Artie's return. He grimaced at his leg, now propped up on a pillow on the coffee table. It was Christmas Eve and there would be no dancing for him tonight. But at least he could go to dinner with Artie and his date. They'd only arrived in Denver this morning and Artie had run into an old acquaintance. Jim grinned. He was certain that Artemus had done some pretty fast talking to smooth the young ladies ruffled feathers from their last meeting in Virginia City.
He retrieved a folded piece of paper from his vest pocket and smiled. It had taken up most of the few hours that Artie had been gone, but after several telegraph exchanges and a couple of favors, he had what he wanted; a house number and a street name. He tucked the note back into his vest as the rear door opened.
He turned to watch as Artemus ushered a radiant young blonde haired woman into the car.
“James, I want you to meet Velia Marsh. Velia, this is my partner James West.”
Velia Marsh walked over to to sofa holding out her hand. “How you do Mr. West. Artemus has told me so much about you! Why if he hadn't explained all about what happened in that awful make believe town of Paradox last year...well...I just don't know if I'd have ever forgiven him for leaving me in that restaurant!” She beamed a wide smile at Artie. “But you certainly are forgiven now! I just can't wait for us all to have a lovely Christmas Eve dinner!”
“It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Marsh, just call me Jim.” He pulled himself to his feet.
“Oh Jim, you poor dear! Shot in the very same leg again! My, my, my! What dangerous and exciting lives you two lead!” She looked from one to the other. “Porcelain door handle salesman indeed. I'll never forget that one Artemus! Did he tell you Jim? Did he tell you that he tried to pass himself off as a porcelain door handle salesman when we met?”
Jim laughed as Artie rolled his eyes. “Why no. You forgot to mention that to me Artie.”
“Well he explained all of it to me!” Velia contined. “You know...how the porcelain door handle business is just a clever disquise for the Secret Service work you do. And how the sales talk is just code words so you can communicate in secret. It's all just so exciting!!”
“Uhh...ahem...” Artie tried to change the subject. “Why don't we have a little champagne before we head out for the restaurant? Hmmm....? There's plenty of time.” He quickly headed to the table where the bottle was chilling in ice.
“It's a shame you weren't able to get a date for this evening Jim.” Velia chirped.
“Well I promised the porcelain door handle salesman that I wouldn't overdo on the leg. I can't dance so I'm sure I wouldn't be a very entertaining escort for a young lady this evening.”
“Here we go Velia my dear!” Artemus swept over to her with a glass of champagne.
“I'll just leave you two to enjoy the champagne.” Jim said suddenly. “I have an errand to run. I'll meet you at the restaurant. I have a carriage waiting.”
Artie's jaw dropped. “Errand?? What errand? Jim, where could you possibly need to go right now?” He gave his partner an irritated look, then his face relaxed. “You're not going out to get my Christmas present are you? You know that's not necessary Jim. Stay here and relax!”
Jim blinked at him. “Your Christmas present? Artieeee, I got that months ago and it's hidden where you'll NEVER find it!” He grinned wickedly.
“Oh reeealleeee....” Artie rose to the challenge.
Satisfied that Artie was sufficiently distracted, Jim grabbed his cape and hat, quickly hobbling to the door.
“Jim! Where are you going? Jim?!”
“Artie!” Jim leaned back still grinning as he stepped through the door. “It's Christmas Eve! I'm going to take a chance on a Christmas Pony!” He closed the door behind him.
“A Christmas Pony?!” Artie stared at the door, mouth open. “What in the....?”
“Artemus! Aren't we going to drink our champagne before it goes flat?” Velia interrupted him.
Artie turned back to Velia. “What?...Oh of course my dear!” They intertwined their arms and sipped. But Artie's mind was wandering.
“Delicious!” Velia cooed with a crinkled little nose. “Your partner is a little eccentric isn't he? I mean going out like that to buy a chance on a Christmas Pony on Christmas Eve? I don't recall one even being offered in town this year. Usually the Hotels post that sort of thing.”
“There isn't one?” Artemus looked at her with a pinched brow.
She took another sip from her glass and suddenly her eyes widened. “OH!” She looked at Artemus. “Oh my! It's a code word isn't it?!”
“What?”
“Your partner...Christmas Pony is a code word isn't it? Like the porcelain door handle business. Is he going out to do something terribly dangerous? Is he Artemus??”
“Dangerous?” Artie looked at the door again. Jim couldn't possibly have gotten himself involved in any kind of trouble while I was gone. Could he? It was only a couple of hours...
“Artemus Gordon! Tell me you are not going to leave me sitting at the restaurant alone with a plate of escargot for company while you run off to rescue him again! You wouldn't, would you?”
“Of course not Velia my sweet dove! I would never do that to you again!” At least I hope I don't have to...Jim wouldn't...he couldn't disappear tonight....would he?
Artie cast a suspicious look at the door, the image of Jim West exiting through it still in his mind.
“Artemus!! Are you paying attention?” Velia clinked her glass to his. “I said, Merry Christmas!”
“Huh? Oh...yes. Merry Christmas Velia!”
“A Christmas Pony”
! He mulled it over. Where am I supposed to start with that?<>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<> The End. <>///<>///<>///<>///<>///<>
Merry Christmas everyone!
~Paradox Eyes 2009