The Night of the Friend in Need

[California gal]

THE NIGHT OF THE FRIEND IN NEED

A real friend is one who walks in
when the rest of the world walks out.
– Anonymous

“Jim? Are you awake?”

“Umph.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Artemus Gordon said, sitting up and peering across the low burning campfire toward the mound of blankets on the other side. Though midsummer, nights in the mountains of Colorado were chilly. He could see the back of his partner’s head at one end of the hill of blankets. “I keep thinking… this whole thing is just too fishy.”

“Hmm?”

“You know Jer even better than I do, worked with him more often, but I’m just so damn sure he’d never do something like this.”

Now Jim finally rolled over. “Like what?”

Artemus scowled at his partner. “Why are you being so obtuse?”

Jim sighed and sat up. “Because you seem to want to talk and I was just offering you the opportunity.”

“We’ve been riding for two days since we left the train,” Artie said then, “and we haven’t taken the time to talk about it at all.”

“That’s because we need to be in Silver Hill as soon as possible, and the more time we spend talking instead of riding…”

“Well, we’ve made good time. We’ll be there by noon tomorrow. I’m going to have a very hard time believing the stories we’re going to hear, if the information the colonel passed on is any indication.”

Jim stared into the low, crackling flames a long moment. He was glad Artemus had started this, for he had been laying awake, thinking about the assignment they had received: Find and bring in Jeremy Wilson Pike, rogue agent. “Fact is,” he said slowly, “it’s happened before, and is likely to happen again. Our job is very…” Not possible. Not Jeremy.

“Stressful,” Artie completed the thought. “Dangerous. Thankless. And for low pay. We two are the lucky ones to have the train, but even that sometimes seems as though it’s not enough.” He paused then looked directly at his partner. “Is it possible that Jeremy is… became jealous? He lived on the train for awhile…”

“He hated it, Artie. Or that’s what he said. I mean, he liked the amenities well enough. But Jeremy said he preferred public trains or even riding horseback, and staying in hotels.”

“Yeah. I remember him saying that. Jim, it makes no sense for Pike to go bad. Would he really do it for the money?”

“That I don't know.”

The partners fell silent, with the crackling fire and distant calls from nocturnal animals and birds the only sounds. Even the night breeze was still. Somewhere a wolf howled, a lonely, chilling call. Artemus remembered how stunned he had been a few days ago when he and Jim had been summoned to Denver to meet with Richmond, where they were told that agent Jeremy Pike was wanted for murder and robbery, and that the two of them were being assigned to bring him in.

According to the information received, over a month ago Secret Service agent Jeremy Pike had been sent to the remote mining town of Silver Hill, Colorado, deep in the Rocky Mountains, to investigate a report that a man wanted for forgery of government documents was in that area. According to later communications, Pike had found and arrested that man, locked him in the local jail. Pike then arranged for the forger’s release into his custody, whereupon the pair allegedly robbed the town’s only bank. At the time, this small local bank’s safe held nearly a quarter of a million dollars in cash recently received in payment for a shipment of silver bullion from the mines in the area. Witnesses stated that Pike had shot down a teller in the bank in cold blood.

Information concerning the robbery had been slow in reaching the department because of the isolated location of the mountain mining town, which had no telegraph and infrequent mail service. Too, according to what they gleaned from Richmond, the local law had been recalcitrant in calling for outside help, or even reporting that a federal agent was involved. Apparently the sheriff had thought he would handle the matter himself, possibly feeling that Pike’s comrades would not and could not be unbiased.

Colonel Richmond had been very terse when he gave the assignment, offering no opinions, and no advice. “Bring Pike in, gentlemen,” he had said. Both West and Gordon were sure their superior’s unspoken words were, “and get to the bottom of this.”

“Wonder if it’s possible he was forced into it,” Artemus mused aloud.

“How? According to Richmond, Pike knew the name Radcliffe Harries, but no one in the department has ever had any contact with this forger, Radcliffe Harries, at least not to anyone’s knowledge. He said that Jerry had been in the Silver Creek previously. We’ll find out more tomorrow, but from all the information received, Jeremy Pike took Harries out of the jail and the two of them committed the robbery.”

Artie sighed heavily. “With witnesses.” The report stated five people, including the bank owner and the murdered teller, had been in the bank at the time of the robbery. Pike had contacted the banker soon after he hit town, after checking in with the sheriff, to discuss the forged drafts that Harries had passed there, so the banker knew him by sight. The other three had been the local blacksmith, a widow, and the widow’s brother-in-law, all of whom had lived in or near Silver Hill for many years. The only certain fact was that Jeremy Pike had not brought Harries back to authorities to stand trial, and had not been seen since he left for Colorado over a month ago.

“Yeah,” Jim murmured. “With what seem to be unimpeachable witnesses. We’d better try to get some sleep, pal. I have a notion that the next few days, and maybe nights are…” He halted, cocking his head. “Hear that?”

Artemus nodded and quickly threw his blankets back to pull on his boots. Jim did the same. They strapped on their gun belts then both headed off into the shadows of the trees, near where their horses where tethered. Once in the shadows, they waited quietly, tensely.

The noise both had heard had been that of a horse whinnying, followed by a quick, angry word spoken by a man, seeming to come from further down the slope on which they had set up their camp. They had chosen this spot because a stream flowed about a hundred feet to the east, providing water for them and their animals. The area between where they had set up camp and the stream proved to be too rough on which to throw down a blanket for a decent night’s sleep, so they had settled for a clearing just inside a stand of aspens and evergreens.

Who would be out in this area at this time of night? Foolish question, Artemus. No one with any good reason.

He crouched down beside his partner and waited. If they had been asleep, quite likely the noises they were hearing would not have roused them. Even their horses had not reacted to the sound, though when Artie looked toward the pair, he saw that their ears were now cocked toward whoever was approaching.

Jim had his gun in his right hand, his left against the trunk of the tree, ready to use it for leverage to throw himself off to the side if needed. Might have been smart to take a moment to roll up our blankets. With the fire burning low it would look as if we were still sleeping. As it is, in the dark, someone might think that anyway. The bedrolls of both men were in rumpled piles on either side of the now glowing coals of the campfire. Otherwise the only light was from the stars and a sliver of a moon.

“Who could it be?” Artie whispered. “Bandits?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Several minutes elapsed as the sounds of the approaching men and horses grew louder. Then obviously the horses were left behind as the men crept nearer on foot. Jim tried to figure out how many by the sounds of the voices and footsteps, but could not come up with a number. Just “more than two.”

He motioned to Artie then stood up behind the trunk of the tree under which he had been crouching. Artemus took two quiet steps over and did the same behind another tree. Neither was surprised when several men appeared and on a barked command, fired their pistols numerous times into the mussed blankets.

Both agents remained very still as the assailants ceased their gunfire, and one moved forward to kick at Artie’s blankets. “What the hell!” He strode over to the other side, repeated the process. “They’re not here!”

As one, Gordon and West stepped out from behind the trees. “Drop your weapons and raise your hands,” Jim commanded.

Again, no surprise that the order was not heeded. Both agents dropped flat to the ground as the other men turned their weapons toward them. For a few minutes, the fire from both sides was rapid. Then someone yelled and the other men ran into the darkness. A few moments later, the sound of swiftly retreating horses was heard.

Jim climbed cautiously to his knees. One man was sprawled in the dirt on the other side of the fire. “You all right?” he asked his partner.

“Yeah. What the hell, Jim?”

Jim just shook his head as he approached the fallen man. A quick check revealed he was dead, and a search of his clothing revealed nothing except some cigarette papers and tobacco along with a few coins. Jim lit a match and stared down at the still face for a long moment. “I don't know him.”

“Me neither. But they knew us. This was no robbery try, Jim.”

“Nope. Gets more fishy all the time, doesn’t it?”

W*W*W*W*W

Suspicions which may be unjust need not be stated.
— Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865)

The two agents rode into Silver Hill the following day a little past mid morning. The mining town was small, and did not look especially prosperous. They had been told that numerous small silver mines still operated in the area, but that at one time a massive amount of silver ore had been taken out of the nearby hills. The merchants in this town served the miners who remained, as well as providing supplies to a few small ranches and farms in the general area.

They had decided to leave the dead man buried in the mountains and to not mention the attack immediately. Although no reports indicated that the lawman in this town was anything but honest, more and more they realized they were entering an unknown situation. Not only did they find it difficult to believe that their friend and fellow agent Jeremy Pike had turned outlaw, but the assault last night made things even more mysterious.

“Someone knew we were coming, Jim,” Artie had commented as they drank their morning coffee in the early dawn hours, “and they don’t want us here.”

“Doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense,” Jim returned. “What the devil is going on?”

Artemus hesitated then ventured, “You don’t suppose Jer…”

Jim had shaken his head vehemently, which led Artie to surmise that his partner had at least briefly entertained the same thought, that Pike had been behind the nighttime attack. Neither wanted to believe the worst of their good friend. They also knew they had to keep their minds open and free of prejudice for or against Jeremy Pike. As Jim had indicated, wearing a badge of any kind did not preclude a man from eventually going to the other side. A few notable lawmen in the west had once ridden the owlhoot trail, and vice-versa. The Secret Service had had their share of bad apples.

The sheriff’s office was a small building located where two streets intersected, although one street appeared to be more of an alley, much narrower than the main thoroughfare. The bank, a stone building, was right across this “alley” from the sheriff’s office, and it appeared to Artemus that other structures and businesses had probably been erected behind both buildings at a later time, creating this street. At the other side of the main street, a saloon and a mercantile occupied the corners.

The door to the sheriff’s office was locked, with a small cardboard sign—which appeared as though it had been used often—tucked into a crevice indicating that the sheriff was across the street at the Red Bird Saloon. Artemus glanced up at the sun as they strode across the dusty street.

“Probably not yet eleven. Early for a visit to the local groggery,” he muttered.

Jim did not reply as they stepped up onto the worn porch and opened one of the double doors to enter. As they did so, both realized that the saloon was also a restaurant, although no sign outside indicated that function. More than likely all the residents were aware of the dual purpose, and a hand-lettered sign nailed on the wall behind the bar listed the menu and prices. A burly middle-aged man was sitting at a table enjoying what appeared to be a late breakfast, and was not only the sole customer on the premises, but the only person in sight.

He glanced up as they entered, then looked again, putting his fork down. “You gents looking for me?” As he turned his body slightly, they could see the shiny metal badge on his chest.

“Sheriff Leale? My name is James West and this is my partner, Artemus Gordon. We are federal agents.”

Leale did not attempt to shake hands, only nodded, then motioned to the empty chairs at his table. “Sit. Been expecting you.” His hair was nearly all gray, having apparently once been dark brown, and his eyes were gray as well. Age had thickened his body and put flesh around his face, but obviously he had once been a handsome man. “Want coffee or food? Sarah is out back, but she’ll come if I holler.”

“Not right now,” Artie murmured, though the biscuits on the sheriff’s plate looked mighty tempting: fluffy, dripping with the butter the lawman had slathered on them.

“Sheriff,” Jim said, as both agents sat down, “we’re anxious to find out just exactly what happened here.”

The lawman shrugged. “That fellow who came to arrest Harries teamed up with him and robbed the bank, killed young Joseph Byerly. Made off with a quarter of a million in cash. I chased them, but they got clean away. Likely in Canada by now.”

“The Northwest Mounted Police have been alerted,” Artemus said, not adding that every other lawmen north and south were also on watch, or that neither fugitive had been spotted anywhere thus far, after close to a month since the crime was committed. I have a distinct sense that this sheriff doesn’t have a high opinion of federal officers at this moment.

“Sheriff,” Jim said quietly, “I hate to disturb your meal, but we require more details.”

Leale carefully spread berry jam on the buttered biscuit. “I expect you don’t want to believe one of your fellows did this.”

“We do find it hard to believe,” Artie responded evenly. “But that’s neither here nor there. We are here to investigate the situation and need all the information we can get. First of all, can you describe the two men?”

The sheriff thoughtfully chewed the morsel of biscuit he had placed in his mouth. “Well, Pike was about your height and build, Gordon, with dark hair, brown eyes. Roundish face. Nice enough looking. Seemed to be a pleasant fellow at the start, though I wouldn’t call him friendly. I’m thinking that Harries talked him into this. And Harries, he’s a bit older, blond. Had a beard but I recollect he grew that after he moved in this area. Didn’t know he was a wanted man.”

Artemus swallowed his disappointment. He had harbored a faint hope that an imposter had somehow replaced Pike on this assignment. However, that would have unpleasant implications as to what might have happened to Jeremy so that this imposter could step in.

“Can you tell us more?” Jim urged. This lawman obviously was not going to be very cooperative, at least initially. Yet the information that had been sent to the department had come from Sheriff Ethan Leale. He surely should have known that agents would come to investigate.

“Not a heck of a lot to tell. Pike showed up one day, maybe close to five weeks ago now, told me he was looking for this Rad Harries. When he told me what Harries looked like, I sent him up into the hills east of here. Fellow up there living in an old shack fit the description. Day later, Pike brought Harries in and locked him in my jail. Next day Pike comes back, takes Harries out of the cell. Far as I knew at the time, they rode out of town, heading south.

“Day after that, I had a message to go out to look into some trouble at an abandoned mine maybe fifteen miles north of here. Turned out to be a false alarm. But when I got back, I learned that Pike and Harries had robbed the bank. They killed young Byerly, and took the money. I got some men together to follow their trail, but lost it before long.”

“Did you continue to search?” Artie asked mildly.

Leale’s eyes narrowed, sensing criticism. “Of course we did. That kind of money isn’t chicken feed around here. It belonged to all the little miners in the hills. Money they worked for years to earn.”

“I understand the main lodes played out some time back,” Jim commented.

“Yeah. It was really something back in those days. The big boys, they took what they could and went off to spend it in the big cities. But there’s still ore up there, and the ones who are willing to work hard are finding it. Man can make a good living if he don’t mind a little sweat on his brow and calluses on his hands. But this robbery—it’s gonna bust a lot of them if the money ain’t returned.”

By unspoken but mutual consent, the two agents thanked the sheriff and left the saloon. “Big help,” Artie muttered as they paused outside.

“Yeah. I guess we’d better go talk to the banker next, but I was just wondering—this town doesn’t appear to have a hotel. We might have to rough it a few more nights.”

His partner made a face, never a huge fan of sleeping on the ground. “Maybe the banker will invite us to stay with him.”

Roger Horvath was a younger man than they had expected a bank owner and president to be, probably not more than mid to late forties in age, a slender man with a thin face and a mane of golden hair. His rimless glasses did not disguise sky-blue eyes as he greeted them amiably and with more enthusiasm than the sheriff had.

“The whole situation was and is a nightmare,” Horvath shook his head. “We’re just a little town, as you are undoubtedly cognizant of. I had been accepting silver and converting it into dollars for the miners in this area for a long while. To have it all vanish at once… a terrible shock.”

“Why did you allow it to accumulate to such a total?” Artemus inquired. “Why wasn’t some of it transferred to a larger bank, say one in Boulder, or Denver? I’m sure you didn’t have insurance to cover such a sum.”

“A little vanity,” Horvath smiled sadly. “I’ve lived here only a few years, but I quickly learned about the independence of the local people. They always take care of their own. The men in the mines wanted their cash on hand, not in some big city bank. And you're right, the insurance will cover only a small portion, and I’m having to fight for that.”

“How many miners were involved?” Jim asked.

Horvath frowned. “Twenty-six had deposits here. So you see that translates into something less than ten thousand each, though the amounts belonging to each varied widely, from a couple of thousand to close to thirty thousand for one miner A good sum. I’m not trying to minimize the tragedy of the situation. Merely trying to explain.”

“I understand. What are the miners doing now?”

“Hoping for a miracle for the most part,” the banker sighed. “It was at their instigation that Sheriff Leale contacted your superiors. Leale hoped to take care of the matter himself. He’s a good sheriff, but… well, nothing like this has ever happened before.”

“Would you mind giving us a list of the names of all those depositors?” Jim asked.

Horvath blinked. “For what reason?”

“Just standard procedure,” Jim replied noncommittally.

“I suppose I can,” Horvath said with obvious reluctance.

“Can you describe the scene during the robbery?” Artemus asked then. “I mean, where was everyone when the two men entered, and what happened?”

Horvath leaned back in his chair. His office was merely a corner of the bank as a whole, with a large iron safe behind him, presumably where the assets were stored. At the other side of the room was a two-window teller station, where a stocky middle-aged man was currently counting some bills. No customers were present at the moment, but a table was in the middle of the room for customer convenience, with a pen and inkwell.

“I was here at my desk,” he said slowly. “Mrs. Noyes was seated where you are, Mr. Gordon, and her brother-in-law, Mr. Kenley Noyes occupied your chair, Mr. West. Our town blacksmith, Odell Ogden, was at the cage conducting a transaction with Joseph Byerly, the teller. I believe the time was about two-thirty in the afternoon. We generally close at three on Saturdays, so I was in the process of arranging for Mrs. Noyes and her brother-in-law to return on Monday to conclude the business we were discussing.”

“Do you mind telling us what that business was?” Artemus asked. For one instant, he thought the banker was going to protest, but then Horvath seemed to mentally shrug.

“Mrs. Noyes and Mr. Noyes own one of the small mines and are applying for a loan to do some improvements. Kenley Noyes and his brother developed the mine, and of course Thyra Noyes inherited her husband’s half. I really don’t see what that has to do with the robbery.”

Artie just smiled. “Like my partner said, just standard procedure. We often find that the more background information we obtain, the easier problems are solved.”

Horvath scowled now. “I don’t see any problem other than recovering the money and arresting your fellow agent.”

“True,” Jim spoke patiently. Now was not the time to get tough with the banker; if necessary, that could come later. “I suppose we are just trying to understand the situation. As you say, Mr. Pike is—was—a friend and we find it hard to believe he would have done such a thing.”

“I don't think it’s so difficult to understand. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money.”

“Very true,” Artie nodded. “Now if we could get back to your description of what happened during the robbery.”

Horvath cleared his throat. “I remember I glanced up and saw the men enter. Pike was in the lead. I had met him when he first came to town. He came to talk to me regarding forged bank drafts, which of course is the reason he was in this area in the first place. I was a little surprised, because I had understood he had taken his prisoner from the sheriff and left town the day before. Then I saw Harries come in behind him and realized they were both holding their guns.

“The remainder happened rather rapidly and is so much like a bad dream. They locked the door behind them, ordered Ogden and Byerly to move over here next to my desk, then threatened to kill us one by one until I opened the safe. I am sorry to say I hesitated, not believing a man like Pike would do such a thing… and he shot poor Joseph. I’ll never forget that sight. Thyra screamed and they actually threatened to harm her if she made another sound.

“Needless to say, I opened the safe immediately. Harries was carrying a burlap sack and he grabbed everything from inside the vault. Everything. Including some deeds and other papers that the bank held. Beyond the loss of Joseph and the money, that is causing us some headaches, I must tell you.”

“And then?” Artie prompted.

“Then they warned us not to move for fifteen minutes and went out the door, taking the key and locking it from the outside. Sarah Peregrine, who owns the saloon across the street, had heard the shot. I should mention that the sheriff was out of town and not many folks were in the vicinity. This can be a very quiet place at times. In any case, she was looking out the door and saw Pike and Harries leave. Noticing them locking the door, she became very curious and came across to investigate what was going on. Once we were let out, I found a young lad to send to try to find the sheriff, but Leale returned to town before the boy located him.”

“Where will we find Mrs. Noyes and Mr. Noyes?” Jim wanted to know.

“They have the Silver Lady Mine, which is six-seven miles west, in Wolf Hunt Canyon. Anyone can tell you where that is. And Odell Ogden has the livery stable straight down the alley here.”

They left the bank soon after that, feeling that Horvath was becoming testy with their seemingly irrelevant questions. The only additional thing they asked was for a description of the two men who robbed the bank. The description was almost identical to what Leale had said, not only fitting Jeremy Pike but also what they knew about Radcliff Harries.

Artie glanced up at the sky as they stepped outside. “Jim, it’s past noon.”

Jim grinned briefly. “And the food is right across the street. All right. I don’t suppose there’s any hurry in getting out to talk to the other witnesses. Robbery happened well over a month ago.”

“It’s too bad,” Artemus commented as they stepped off the wooden porch and headed across the dusty thoroughfare, “that Leale did not contact federal authorities immediately, if only because a federal man was involved.”

“Yeah. The trail is even colder than it might have been.”

As they had been surprised by the age of the banker, the two agents were equally surprised when they met the owner of the Red Bird Saloon. Jim knew he had expected a hardened woman, perhaps in her forties or older. But Sarah Peregrine was probably no more than thirty, if that, and a very lovely woman with lustrous chestnut hair and golden-brown eyes, attired in a dress of a similar shade to her eyes, a dress that set off a very fine figure, yet was rather demure for her profession.

She was behind the bar as they entered. She greeted them by name and then freely admitted she had seen them from the kitchen where she had been working when they visited with the sheriff here earlier. She had asked Leale about them as soon as they left. “We don’t get many strangers in Silver Hill,” she smiled toward Jim. “Not interesting ones anyway.”

When she served them sandwiches and coffee, she sat down at their table uninvited. “What do you want to ask me, gents?”

Artie exchanged a glance with Jim. “What makes you think we want to ask you anything?”

“You’re investigating the robbery, aren’t you? I was the first witness on the scene. I saw Pike and Harries riding out.”

Jim picked up the dill pickle on his plate. “What can you tell us?”

“Not a hell of a lot. The key was in the lock outside the front door. I unlocked it and saw what happened inside. That Joseph Byerly wouldn’t hurt a fly. I used to flirt with him just to make him blush. Poor kid.” She sighed, shaking her head.

“Did you know either Pike or Harries?” Artie inquired.

“I knew Harries some. Only he didn’t use that name. He’s been around here quite a while.”

“What name did you know him by?”

“Pete Naughton. I thought he was just another prospector. Had no idea he was talented enough to forge bank drafts.”

“Pete Naughton,” Jim repeated. “Artie, does that name sound familiar to you?”

“Not offhand,” Artemus admitted. “What about Pike, Miss Peregrine?”

“It’s Mrs., she corrected, “but just call me Sarah.” She smiled, then sobered. “He came in here to eat, have a beer. Not a very friendly cuss. I sat down for a chat and started asking him what it was like to work for the federal government. You would have thought I asked him to tell me his deepest most personal secret!”

Again the two men looked at each other. Jim knew what his partner was thinking, the same as he was: Jeremy Pike liked the ladies as much as any man. If he came in here to eat and relax, snubbing a beautiful woman like this was completely out of character. Then again, if he had robbery on his mind…

“Do you mind describing Pike?” Jim asked.

She cocked her head. “Not too tall. I’d say about your height, Mr. Gordon…”

“Artemus.”

“Dark wavy hair, brown eyes—actually resembled you in build and coloring… Artemus.”

I wish we had brought a picture of Jer, Jim mused. The colonel had not suggested it, and neither agent thought of doing so. Only on the ride to Silver Hill did they start to speculate about an impersonation. Just hearing about height and weight and color of hair was not completely helpful. “What about Harries, or Naughton?”

Sarah mused a moment. “Taller, thinner, blond. Had a beard last time I saw him. Maybe eight to ten years older than Pike.”

Artie sighed inwardly. The descriptions from the sheriff, the banker and this woman matched each other’s as well as the actual men. Although they had never met Harries, they had seen the particulars in the department’s files; however, no picture of him had been available. I know we’re grasping at straws, trying to prove it could not have been Jeremy Pike involved in this crime. And all the while wondering that if, somehow, Jeremy is not the culprit, who is? And where’s Pike?

They then asked Sarah Peregrine if she knew of anyone renting rooms, or anywhere else they could stay. She had the solution. “I own a cottage—more like a shack—down across from the livery stable. I lived there until I married my late husband Noah Peregrine and moved into the apartment upstairs. I have no doubt there are spiders and maybe mice, but there are a couple of beds and you are welcome to them. It’ll get you out of the weather.”

Leaving the saloon, Jim and Artie procured their horses from in front of the sheriff’s office and led them down the narrow street toward the blacksmith shop and livery. Before checking out the “cottage” they stopped to talk to Odell Ogden, the owner and smithy. At least this one fits preconceptions, Artie mused. Ogden was a broad-shouldered black man with muscular arms and a massive chest. He obviously owned the strength required for his occupation.

Ogden told them pretty much what the banker and saloonkeeper did, even down to the descriptions of the two robbers. He had met Pike previously because the government agent left his horse in the stable. He also knew “Pete Naughton” slightly from a couple of occasions when Naughton brought his horse to be shod. “I don't know much about him. Saw him in the Red Bird a couple of times but didn’t socialize with him.”

“Did you ever see him with any friends?” Jim inquired.

Ogden thought a moment. “I guess I saw him playing poker with Fred Blaylock and Ken Noyes a time or two. I don’t go into the saloon much. Not a drinker except I do like a cold beer on a hot day.”

Leaving the horses with Ogden, they crossed the dusty pathway to the shack. The door was unlocked and creaked as it was opened, but the interior proved to be in better condition than Sarah Peregrine had predicted. Bunk beds were in one corner, while a potbelly stove occupied another. Two not-too-steady-looking chairs and a small table completed the furnishings. While the place was dusty and full of cobwebs, they did not see signs of rodents, and only a few harmless spiders.

“Flip you for the upper,” Jim said, gazing at the two beds with their thin mattresses, probably stuffed with straw.

Artie just sighed and shook his head. “Take it. I never win.”

Grinning, Jim tossed his saddlebags and blanket roll onto the upper bed. Then he frowned. “Artie, where did Jeremy stay the few days he was here?”

His partner blinked. “Obviously not with Leale or he would have said something. Nor did Sarah Peregrine loan him this cabin. No one has been in here for a long, long time. I guess we need to ask some more questions.”

“Might be that someone else had a room to rent him, but I think we should check into that.” Jim sat down on the lower bunk. “You know, I cannot think of why the name Pete Naughton seems familiar to me.”

“Too bad this little town doesn’t have a telegraph. Mail pickup is only every couple of weeks.” The banker had confirmed that information. “I suppose that partially explains why it took Leale so long to get a letter out.”

“Seems odd to me,” Jim commented, “that Horvath apparently was not among the ones clamoring for outside help. Apparently it was a committee of the miners that persuaded Leale to contact the department.”

“You’re thinking the banker could have been involved?”

Jim sighed. “I don't know what to think, Artie. Especially I don’t know what to think about the fact that by all current indications Jeremy Pike has turned rogue. I can’t think of why he would. He’s a good man.”

“A lot of good men have gone bad,” Artie said softly. Then shook his head. “No. Not Jeremy. It’s not as if he has a wife and family to support. As far as I am aware, not even a regular lady friend. I think his time with you corrupted him, James.” Artie grinned, referring to Jim West’s notorious habit of flitting from one woman to another with no hint of ever planning to settle on one.

Jim smiled briefly. “Why don’t we go talk with Leale again? Maybe he knows where Jerry was staying. I’m not sure why that might be important, but it just seems to be something that’s been left blank.”

“I agree. By then Ogden should have the horses taken care of and we can go find the Noyes. I feel they might be an interesting pair. By the way, why did you ask Horvath for a list of the miners who lost money?”

Jim just shrugged. “They would be the ones who were aware of the deposits, and possibly even the total amount and when it would be on hand. Still doesn’t explain Jer’s alleged involvement.”

Ethan Leale’s demeanor was somewhat warmer towards the two agents when they entered his office. He admitted that he had had a bad morning, having been accosted by several miners before he had even had his breakfast, thus the late meal they had witnessed. “They were tending to not believe I’d followed their request to ask for outside help, even though I’d told them before that it was unlikely anyone could get here earlier than today. Too bad they didn’t hang around town just a little longer and they could have met you.”

“We’ll be talking to them,” Artie said. “Mr. Horvath is going to provide us with a list of the men who lost money.”

“Oh, hey, I can give that to you right now.” He opened a drawer on the roll-top desk and withdrew a sheet of paper, which he handed to Artemus. “I made up this list myself.” His smile was slightly sheepish. “They’re also the ones who hounded me into sending for you boys.”

“Thanks,” Jim said. “That will help. Sheriff, have you any idea where Jeremy Pike bedded down the few days and nights he was here?”

Leale looked at him blankly then slowly shook his head. “I have no idea. Never even thought about that. We don’t have a hotel, as you likely figured out by now. Never heard that anyone took him in as a boarder. If you haven’t noticed yet, the town’s population is pretty slim these days. Was a time when we had a population of over four hundred, but now probably not even fifty people. Out in the general area, there’s four, maybe five hundred more, including the miners and ranchers and farmers and their families and hired help scattered in the mountains and valleys. They come to Silver Hill to get supplies. The men will stop for a drink or two or a game of cards at the Red Bird, the ladies shop at the mercantile. We had a hotel once, but it burned down and was never rebuilt. Pike must have been camping outside of town somewhere.”

“It strikes me,” Artemus said thoughtfully, “that we’re being told all the money stolen belonged to the miners. Didn’t any of the ranchers or merchants bank with Horvath?”

“Oh, sure. But their deposits are penny-ante compared to the miners. But I’m pretty sure Mr. Forbes over to the mercantile keeps his own safe. Now Odell Ogden was in the bank at the time of the robbery, but he was buying a bank draft to send to his sister in Kansas. Seems she’s a widow with children and he helps her out from time to time. Otherwise I reckon he holds onto his own money too.”

They talked a little longer with the sheriff and learned that with the banker’s advice and cooperation, the miners had amassed their silver ore until it had been shipped out under guard to a smelter sometime back. The ingots were then sold and the cash returned to Silver Hill under military guard. The cash had been in the bank’s vault for a couple of weeks before the robbery, and its presence was no secret.

“Little place like this just doesn’t expect something like that to happen,” Leale sighed.

W*W*W*W*W

After receiving more explicit directions from the sheriff, they found the Noyes’ property with little trouble and a ride of about an hour. The mine was located in a large canyon with a waterfall at one end that tumbled into a small pond and then flowed out of the canyon. As a result, the floor of the canyon was greener than most other similar sites in the area. A couple hundred head of cattle and a few horses were grazing on the grass.

The mine itself could be seen near the waterfall, with the house a hundred or so yards away toward the canyon mouth. A well-built and well-kept two-story house was fronted with a neat white picket fence protecting a small yard containing roses and some other flowers. As they dismounted in front of that picket fence, a woman came out onto the porch of the house, peering at them, hand shading her eyes.

She appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties, attired in a worn cotton dress, her light brown hair caught in a bun at the back of her neck, a slender woman with sharp features. “Who are you?” she called.

“Special agents,” Artemus replied. “We’re investigating the bank robbery. My name is Artemus Gordon and this is my partner James West. Mrs. Noyes?”

Her thin mouth became even thinner, the expression most unwelcoming. “I expect you’re here to try to exonerate your friend.” Her southern accent was strong.

“We’re investigating the robbery,” Jim said flatly. “We would like to talk to you and Mr. Noyes concerning what you saw that day.”

“I saw a renegade who made a pact with an outlaw to steal our life savings!” Thyra Noyes glared at them a moment longer, then some of the stiffness seemed to go out of her body and expression. “You’d better come in. I don’t want to be accused of obstructing justice. My brother-in-law is down at the mine, but he’ll be back shortly.”

Jim pushed open the gate in the fence and the two men stepped through, with Artie carefully closing the gate behind them. Mrs. Noyes waited on the porch and then turned to go back through the open door. They followed her into a tidy living room with comfortable but worn furnishings, including the carpet which might have once held a pattern but seemed to be primarily mottled greens and blues faded almost to gray, with a touch of some pink or maroon.

She did not offer to take their hats, nor offer any refreshments, but waved them to a sofa while she perched on a straight-backed chair near the stone fireplace at one side. “I don't know what I can tell you that you might not have heard from Mr. Horvath. I’m sure you talked to him.”

“We did,” Artemus replied, holding his hat on his lap as he leaned back and crossed his legs. “But sometimes people see things differently, or they notice something no one else did.”

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“We obtained a list of the people who had funds deposited with the bank,” Jim said. “Do you mind telling us how much of it was yours?”

The mouth tightened again. “A little over two thousand dollars. Not much. But we were planning to use it and a loan from the bank to get some machinery so that we could dig deeper in the mine. Kenley is sure more ore is back there, but it’s not accessible with pick and shovel.”

“Does Mr. Noyes do all the mining himself?” Artie asked.

“No. We have two hired men.”

“About the robbery,” Artemus said then, “can you tell us what you saw?”

“That man Pike and the fellow he was supposed to be taking off to jail walked into the bank, killed poor young Byerly, and forced Mr. Horvath to open the safe. They took every red cent that was in it… all our money. And got away, scot-free! Thanks to that incompetent sheriff.”

Jim asked the inevitable question: could she describe Pike and Harries. She did, and gave virtually the same description as every other person they had talked to had provided. Artemus did not look at his partner, but he was sure Jim was experiencing the same disappointment he was. If someone would only mention something, some discrepancy, so that they could respond with, “no, that’s not Jeremy Pike.”

“Had you met Pike before that time?” Jim asked.

“No. Saw him in town… I guess it was the day before that. I asked someone who the stranger was.”

“What about Harries? I understand he lived here awhile under the name Pete Naughton.”

She shrugged. “Saw him around. Kenley might know him.” Thyra Noyes made this last comment as the front door opened and a man entered.

He was a heavy-set man with a grizzled beard and graying hair, though Artemus decided he was not that old, probably not much more than forty-five. He wore a plaid shirt with broad suspenders supporting his heavy denim trousers over a substantial belly. Boots were worn and dirty, and Artie noticed how Thyra Noyes directed her gaze at those boots, although to no avail. Dust sprinkled down on her worn but scrupulously clean carpet.

“Who’s this?” the man asked as he stared at the two visitors.

Mrs. Noyes made the introduction of her brother-in-law to the agents. Noyes took a rocking chair and answered the same questions in almost the same way as she had, however, he admitted he had met and spoken to Naughton “a time or two when he came around looking for work. Guess I sat in a poker game with him once or twice. I didn’t like him, didn’t trust him. Something sly about him. Of course, I didn’t know he was a criminal wanted by the federal government.”

“Had you met Agent Pike?” Jim inquired.

Noyes snorted. “Agent Pike? Don’t tell me he’s still on your payroll! Yeah, I met him. When he first got here and was looking for Naughton or Harries or whatever his name was, he rode by here asking for directions.” Like his sister-in-law, the accent was Deep South.

“Naughton’s place was near here?”

“You leave the canyon mouth and ride a mile or so due west. Little shack alongside a nearly dried up stream.”

“Funny,” Artemus commented as they rode toward the canyon mouth awhile later, “we keep meeting people who turn out to be not at all what I expected.”

“The Noyes, for instance?”

“Yeah. I thought they’d be friendlier. After all, we’re here to try to get their money back. Presumably they were among the miners who petitioned Leale to send for outside help.”

“Their names were on the list of depositors he gave us. I also expected that they would have lost more. Seem to have a fairly good-sized operation here, at least in a prime spot. Not many miners run cattle.”

“Maybe that’s why they needed a loan for the mine. They sank all their funds into the cattle.” Artemus shook his head. “Jim, I’m getting more and more discouraged. We haven’t found one thing that would indicate Jeremy isn’t involved.”

“I know. But it still doesn’t make any sense. Jer had no motive to turn renegade.”

“You suppose this Harries forced him somehow?” Artemus immediately answered his own question. “No. According to the witnesses, Jeremy is the one who killed the teller. I can’t see any way he could have been forced into cold-blooded murder like that.”

“I agree. I can’t see Jeremy as a cold-blooded murderer,” Jim growled. He pulled his horse to a halt as they rode by a small grove of aspens. “Artie, I keep thinking that somehow this is a frame-up, that they substituted someone else for Jeremy.”

Artemus was nodding as he halted his chestnut alongside. “I know. I’ve had the same thought. But it doesn’t make sense. How could they? I mean, they didn’t know which agent was coming, did they? Suppose it had been Harper or Layden, even you and me? Did they have a whole array of men lined up who would fit the description of the agent who showed up?”

Jim sighed as he started the black moving again. “Well, let’s go talk to some of the miners. I have a feeling there’s not very much we can do here.”

[California gal]

W*W*W*W*W

After making a brief, fruitless stop at the ramshackle cabin where Naughton-Harries had lived, finding nothing that would give them any information about the man, they set out again. Visiting and talking to the miners in the region informed the agents about a couple of things. One was that although the county was indeed spread out to some extent, the hills and rocks and canyons made it seem even larger. Getting from one spot to another was not usually via a straight line. Therefore, by the time the sun began to lower on the western horizon, they had talked to only four men.

The other item they learned was that a man named Nick Fotopoulos was apparently a leader among the smaller miners in that area. Nick had been the one to organize the others to submit the petition to the sheriff. Because Fotopoulos’s mining claim was deeper into the mountains, they decided to postpone their visit to him until the morning, and mutually agreed that if this so-called “leader” had nothing new to tell them, they would have to depart Silver Hill in order to report their findings or lack thereof to their superiors.

Upon returning to town, they took their horses to the livery, stopped in the cabin long enough to wash up and don fresh shirts, then walked down to the Red Bird for supper. The establishment was busier than during previous visits, and Sarah had some help serving meals and drinks, an older woman who introduced herself as Molly. The agents were enjoying an after-dinner whiskey before Sarah Peregrine was able to emerge from the kitchen and join them.

“How’s the palatial cabin I offered you?” she grinned.

“Luxurious,” Artie responded. “Can’t get over those huge beds with the soft mattresses. And the view! Unbelievable!” He winked at her.

“We’re grateful anyway,” Jim smiled. “It’ll keep us out of the rain. By the way, do you have any idea where Jeremy Pike stayed when he was here?”

Sarah shook her head. “No. Afraid not. Never heard it mentioned. Important?”

Jim just shrugged. “We’re primarily curious right now. Chances are he set up a camp somewhere.”

The saloonkeeper was frowning now. “We had some late spring snow around that time. Would have been a wet and cold camp. I know he was a friend of Nick Fotopoulos. But that’s a long ride every day.”

“A friend of Fotopoulos?” Artemus echoed. “You sure about that?”

“Nick was the one who told me. He was pretty upset when he heard about Pike’s part in the robbery.”

Artie was nodding now. “I do recall him mentioning to me that a friend of his was of Greek heritage, who had introduced him to some Greek dishes. I don't think I ever asked him where that friend was living.”

“We’ll be talking to Fotopoulos tomorrow,” Jim said. “Sarah, we need to ask you about something that you need to keep strictly confidential.”

“Well, sure. I’m pretty good at that. What is it?”

Briefly Jim told her about the ambush in the mountains during the night, and described to her the man they buried. She was shaking her head doubtfully as he finished. “Could be any one of a dozen men in these parts. What kind of boots did he wear?”

“Low-heeled,” Artie said quickly. “Miner?”

“That’s what I would say. We don’t have many cowhands around here. The ranches are small and maybe carry one or two men at the most, more only if they are branding or going to drive a herd to market.”

“Well, why would miners attack us?” Jim wanted to know. “We’re here to help them recover their money!”

Sarah smiled prettily at him. “You’re the detective, Mr. West.”

“Jim,” he purred.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Artemus interrupted, “but we do have a serious crime to solve, Mr. West.”

Jim sighed and pulled his gaze away from the lovely woman. “Yes, Mr. Gordon. As I was saying, why would miners try to stop us from coming to Silver Hill to try to get their money back?”

“That doesn’t make sense, does it?” Sarah said. She glanced around the room as several men entered through the front door. “I guess I’d better attend to business. Stick around awhile.”

“Not too long,” Artie said. “We have to get up early to go see Fotopoulos. I understand that’s a longer ride than to reach the other mines.”

“And a rough one,” Sarah nodded as she got to her feet and strolled away.

“Artie, that really doesn’t make any sense. Why would miners attack us?”

“As Mrs. Peregrine said, James, you’re the detective.”

“I think she meant that collectively, Artemus.”

Artie just shook his head and grinned, then swallowed the last of his whiskey. “I don't know about you, but my brain is a bit weary after our interrupted sleep last night and all the riding today. I’m for hitting the hay.” He got up.

Jim stood up as well. “As you said, we have an early day tomorrow.”

They waved to Sarah as they headed for the door, and Artemus did not miss the disappointment in her pretty face as she waved back. He was actually a bit surprised that Jim was willing to leave the establishment so early. Might be an indication of how serious he’s taking this assignment. After all, Jeremy’s future may depend on what we can uncover. If we can uncover anything…

W*W*W*W*W

“Not the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had,” Artemus replied to Sarah Peregrine’s question as they ate breakfast the next morning, “but it sure beat sleeping on the ground.”

“I’m sorry the mattresses aren’t stuffed with feathers,” she smiled. “But those are the same ones that were there when I bought the place. Always planned to replace them, but then I got married.”

“Do you mind if I ask what happened to your husband?” Artie asked.

Sarah picked up the coffee cup that she had brought with her when she joined the two agents at the table. “See that chandelier? Noah had just finished hanging it when the ladder he was on tipped over. He hit his head on a nearby table… and never woke up.”

“I’m sorry,” Jim murmured.

Sarah sighed. “So am I. But we had a good two years together. And he left me this place. Oh, that reminds me. You asked me about Pete Naughton. I remembered something last night. Don’t know if it’s important. Sometime back, maybe as long as a year ago, a poker game was going on here between Pete and three other men. I was standing nearby watching. It was a quiet, rainy night. I recall now that they started talking about other games they’d participated in and Pete said the biggest game he had ever participated in had been in Alaska.”

Jim snapped his fingers. “That’s it!”

“What’s it?” Artemus asked, looking at his partner.

“I couldn’t think of why that name was familiar to me. Back when you were on assignment in Washington City, Artie, I was sent up to Vancouver, Washington State to meet Monte Hull, who was returning from Alaska with some papers from the territorial governor that I then transported to Denver to pass on to the colonel. But Monte and I had dinner and a couple of drinks, and he was telling me of some of his experiences in Alaska. One of the stories was about a man he met—a con artist Monte called him—named Pete Naughton.”

“A con artist, not a forger?”

“No mention of forgery. In fact, Monte said Pete was the worst con artist he ever met. Seems Pete was trying to sell stock in a California gold mine to the Alaskan prospectors—most of who had come from California and knew that the property he described was nowhere near the sites where gold had been found in the past. Naturally he wasn’t very successful, and those he did rope in soon learned the truth from their pals. Before Naughton could be arrested, he disappeared.”

“Not a huge jump from scams to forgery,” Artemus mused.

“Don’t forgers have to be able to read and write?” Sarah wanted to know.

“It helps,” Artie nodded.

“I let Pete have a little credit at one point. He was working for one of the miners—Noyes I think—and hadn’t gotten paid yet, wanted a meal and a drink. I had him sign an IOU, which he made good on later. But I remember watching him sign. He could kind of print out ‘Pete’ but couldn’t write his last name. I had him put an X then I wrote the name by it and Molly witnessed it. I think it was around the time he first showed up in these parts and I didn’t know him well. Most men I just take their word.”

“It’s possible,” Jim said slowly, “that even if he can’t write his own name, he could copy others.”

“Jim, he’s accused of forging federal drafts!”

“I know,” Jim replied. “I know.”

W*W*W*W*W

Friendship is held to be the severest test of character. It is easy, we think, to be loyal to a family and clan, whose blood is in your own veins. Love between a man and a woman is founded on the mating instinct and is not free from desire and self-seeking.
But to have a friend and to be true under any and all trials is the mark of a man!
—Charles Alexander Eastman (aka Ohiyesa), Native American M.D. and author (1858-1939)

“I don't know what to make of it.”

Jim glanced as his partner as they made their way along a trail that wended among some large boulders. “You mean Pete Naughton?”

“Yeah. He—as Radcliffe Harries—is said to be an expert forger. He’s been getting away with it for years, almost without detection. Yet if what Sarah says is true, he can’t even write his own name. Now I agree with what you said, forgers usually have a skill at copying others’ signatures. But…”

“Yeah,” Jim sighed. “Damn, I wish this town had a telegraph. We’re flying blind, Artie. We can’t get any information. We have Harries’ description. I’d like to get Naughton’s from someone like Monte Hull.”

“Chances are it’d be similar to Harries.”

“I know. So is Harries Naughton, or is Naughton Harries?”

“You’re still thinking about a switch being made, that it wasn’t really Jeremy.”

“Yeah.”

Whatever hopes they had to that end were dashed soon after they sat down to talk to Nicolas Fotopoulos in his sturdy home situated near his mine. Nick was a slim dark man in his early forties, his body trimmed by the labor in his mine, as were those of his two eldest children, sons Jason and Galen, who were about seventeen and fifteen, handsome images of their father. The two girls were some years younger, dark-haired and dark-eyed reproductions of their petite mother, Dione.

Dione Fotopoulos had brought strong coffee and sweet honey-flavored cookies to the living room almost as soon as the agents arrived, saying it would tide them over until the noonday meal, which was an hour or so away. Then she and her daughters retreated to the kitchen, while Nick sent the boys out to do their chores at the mine.

“I cannot believe that Jeremy did such a thing,” Nick said flatly. “A more honorable man does not exist. He saved my life; I saved his. He would not do such a thing.”

“How did you come to know Pike?” Jim asked.

“We lived in same county in New York, but did not meet until we both enlisted in the same regiment, the same company. Good man. We remained friends all through the war. If I needed help, Jeremy was always there. I was wounded at Antietam, and Jeremy pulled me to safety. I stopped a gray-back who was about to club Jeremy with his rifle at Five Forks. Gentlemen, you cannot believe Jeremy would shoot a boy in cold blood, let alone rob a bank!”

Artemus lowered his cup. “Did you see him or talk to him yourself since his arrival?”

“Not in town. But he came here first. Before he went into Silver Hill to meet the sheriff, he came to see me. Stayed the night so we could spend some time together because he knew he might not be able to do that once he captured his prisoner.”

“So… you saw him,” Jim said slowly, fighting the deep disappointment he was experiencing. He saw the same emotions in his partner’s face.

“Yes. Then a few days later, Sheriff Leale came to tell me what had happened. He knew that Pike is a friend of mine. I told many people about my friend the Secret Service agent. I showed them the picture.” He pointed to the mantel over a stone fireplace.

Artemus rose quickly, stepping over to take down the framed picture and gaze at it. The photograph was of a number of uniformed men in an army camp, and he recognized a younger Jeremy Pike as one of them, as well as Nick Fotopoulos. Silently he handed the frame to Jim, and knew his partner experienced the same thoughts. The photograph is too old. Those of us who know Jeremy can recognize him, but that doesn’t mean that someone else would be able to look at it and say, no, that’s not the man who killed the bank teller and stole the money.

“What are you going to do about Jeremy?” Nick asked. “Mr. Gordon? Mr. West?”

“Try to find him,” Artie replied heavily, returning to his chair.

“Mr. Fotopoulos,” Jim began.

The dark-haired man grinned. “Nick. That’s too big a mouthful for most people.”

Jim smiled briefly. “Thank you. I’m Jim; he’s Artemus. I think we have a common purpose here. We find it difficult to accept that Jeremy Pike would have done what he’s accused of doing. But the fact of the matter is that witnesses were there, and they identified Pike without a doubt. The sheriff himself met Jeremy Pike, as well as this Radcliff Harries, who was apparently living in this area as Pete Naughton.”

“That too is strange,” Nick said, putting his cup and saucer on a nearby table. “I know Pete. He did some work for me once. Not a good worker. I never took him on again. I never saw him as a big fancy criminal. Maybe he robs a bank or a stagecoach, but not making fake certificates.”

“Nick, what did Jeremy tell you about the situation when he was here?” Artie asked.

Nick frowned a moment. “He said he had been ordered to come here to find this fellow Harries. No, he didn’t say ordered. He said requested.”

“Requested?” Artie glanced at Jim. “Explain.”

“Jeremy said that someone here knew he had been in this area before, when he visited me four years ago. At that visit, he was just passing through the area and made a point to come by. Stayed a couple of days, but as far as I know, didn’t see anyone else, at least not while I was with him. When he left, he headed east, toward Boulder and never went into Silver Hill. A few people, like Sheriff Leale, knew about it, because I told them. I was very proud of Jeremy. You know he had a tough life as a kid.”

“Yeah, we’ve heard some of it,” Artemus said. “Jim, Colonel Richmond told us Pike had been sent here to pick up Harries.”

“That’s right.” Jim thought a moment. “What he said was something like, ‘I received information that wanted forger Radcliffe Harries was in the Colorado mountains in an area Pike knows. He’d been requested to return…’ I remember thinking that was a strange way to put it, but didn’t think much more about it at the time. But it ties in with what Nick says.”

“Again,” Artemus growled, “if only we had a way to communicate with the outside world…”

“But that wouldn’t necessarily solve anything,” Jim sighed. “It still comes down to the fact that Jeremy was here; he was identified as the man who helped rob the bank… and killed the young teller.”

“Who requested Jeremy Pike’s presence to pick up this Harries?” Artie asked of no one in particular. “Sheriff Leale? Why didn’t he arrest Harries himself if he knew he was a wanted forger?”

“Our next step,” Jim said flatly, “is to find that out.”

They remained with the Fotopoulos family for a delicious midday meal prepared by Dione and her young daughters, Rhea and Daphne. Both the girls, ages eight and ten, fell totally in love with Artemus Gordon as he charmed them with various dialects and funny faces, not to mention speaking to them in the different languages in which he was conversant. By the time the two agents departed in mid afternoon, he was “Uncle Artemus” to them.

The pleasant interlude with the family ended as Nick walked outside with them to their horses. “Jim, Artemus, please prove that Jeremy did not do this terrible thing. Of course we want the money back. That money was our future, our children’s future. But Jeremy is a friend and unlike money, is irreplaceable. I have kept the information from Rhea and Daphne because they are too young to understand. But the boys know and they are heartbroken. They admired Jeremy greatly.”

“We’ll do our best, Nick,” Jim promised. “Jer is our friend too. But… it doesn’t look good.”

W*W*W*W*W

Upon returning to town in late afternoon, they went directly to the sheriff’s office and asked him pointedly about his participation in sending for an agent to arrest Pete Naughton alias Radcliffe Harries. “I wrote the letter,” Leale admitted. “Roger Horvath was the one who identified Harries originally. Being a banker, I guess, he keeps track of such people and when Naughton came into his bank, he got suspicious.”

“Why didn’t you arrest him yourself at that time?” Jim asked.

The sheriff frowned. “Well, I was going to. Then Horvath pointed out that Naughton, or Harries, was wanted for a federal crime. If I’d jailed him, he would have had to sit in my jail until a federal man came for him anyway. I just kind of kept an eye on him until the agent showed up.”

“Who’s idea was it to ask for Jeremy Pike as the arresting agent?” Artemus posed this question.

The local lawman’s frown grew deeper and he scratched his chin, deep in thought. “You know, I’m not sure. It’s been awhile. Might have been Nick Fotopoulos. I know he’s the one who talked about his good friend who was a government agent. Maybe not, though. To be honest, I just don’t remember. I talked to a lot of men around that time, including Roger Horvath and Jess over at the mercantile. Probably Sarah, too. I have to admit I wasn’t no more happy about asking for a federal man to arrest Harries than I was to send for you to chase Pike and Harries. Kind of galling when it seems that the folks who elected you figure you can’t do your job.”

“Perhaps people thought they were helping you,” Artemus suggested gently.

“Yeah, maybe. Well, in any case, I’ll give it some more thought and try to remember who suggested I ask for Pike. I just know that Nick talked about him a lot. So plenty of people knew about his friend Jeremy Pike. And if nothing else, it seemed like a good idea to have someone familiar with the area. You’ve seen how rough it is around here. Man who knew it a little might have an advantage.”

“True enough,” Jim agreed. “As you know, we’ve had to ask a lot of help and directions every time we’ve headed out. I’m not sure how important it is to know who it was, but this is such a puzzling situation, every little piece we can find could help.”

“You still think your friend wasn’t involved?”

Artie sighed. “We don’t know what to think, sheriff. Fotopoulos confirmed that Jeremy was definitely here in this area. I’m afraid we entertained the idea of a ringer… someone substituted for Pike… that also might have meant that our friend is dead. But it doesn’t make sense to do it that way.”

“I don’t understand,” Leale said.

Jim took it up. “Why would it be necessary to, say, kill a federal agent and have someone else pose as him, arrest Naughton, put him in jail, release him, then come back to rob the bank?” The two agents had discussed this thoroughly on the ride back into town. “Why not just… rob the bank? End result would be the same, presumably. They seem to have gotten away in any case.”

“Yeah,” the sheriff spoke slowly, “I think I see your point now. So remembering who maybe wanted Pike here could be important. I’ll sure think about it. Maybe ask a couple of people.”

“Be careful who you ask,” Artemus warned.

Leale shrugged. “I guess I know who my friends are.”

W*W*W*W*W

The agents spent the remainder of that day talking to the citizens of the town of Silver Hill. Not that they expected to learn anything. As Artemus commented, “We want to say we covered all angles before pulling out.” They had now decided that if Ethan Leale could not remember who urged him to request agent Jeremy Pike for the assignment by tomorrow, they would depart. They told the sheriff, however, that once they were able to contact their superiors and possibly acquire more information, they could well return.

“We also need to learn,” Jim had pointed out, “whether Pike and Harries have been seen, or even picked up. With us being so far away from communication with civilization, we have no idea what’s going on.”

“Do you suppose,” Artemus pondered as they walked their horses back toward the livery stable, “that whoever masterminded this deal was counting on the isolation to help them?”

Jim scowled. “Jer would have been very aware of the remoteness of this area.”

“But how would Jeremy have known about the fabulous trove of silver and then cash before he arrived?”

Jim nodded. “Good question.”

Odell Ogden was preparing to shoe a horse when they arrived, but he paused long enough to greet them and take the reins of their mounts. “Any luck on the robbery?”

“Very little,” Artie admitted. “Mr. Ogden, we were told that a number of people don’t bother to put their money in the bank. Why is that?”

The blacksmith shrugged. “I always figure I took care of my own money before Horvath opened his bank, and I can do it just fine now. Only thing the bank comes in handy for is when I send money to my sister. Used to send cash and worry about it getting to her safe. Now I can get a bank draft. But he doesn’t pay any interest on money deposited with him, so what’s the use?”

“No interest?” Jim echoed.

“Nope. He always said the operation was too small and he couldn’t afford it. He sure does charge interest on loans he makes though!”

“How long ago did Horvath open the bank here?” Artie inquired.

Ogden pondered a moment. “About three years ago, I think, maybe a little longer. Can’t tell you the exact date. I’ve been here since just after the war. Didn’t figure I could make it as a miner, but folks always needs horses taken care of.”

“You didn’t meet Pike when he visited Nick Fotopoulos several years ago, did you?” Jim wanted to know.

“No. He never came into town as far as I know. I have seen that picture Nick has of him and his army friends.”

The two agents exchanged a glance, and Jim voiced the question. “Did the man you met recently look like the man in the photograph?”

Ogden showed surprise. “Well, I guess so. Sort of. Never thought much about that. Picture was taken around ’63 as I understood. Man changes a lot in ten years.”

“That’s true,” Artemus sighed.

Both men were silent as they washed up in the shack. The small stove created enough heat to warm an old teakettle full of water, which they had used for shaving earlier. Finally Artemus spoke.

“Jim, I don’t want to give up.”

Jim glanced around as he grabbed for the rough towel to dry his hands. “I don’t intend to. Not until we find Jer, one way or another.”

“But leaving…”

“It’s not giving up, Artie. It’s… regrouping. I think we’ve learned all we can here. We’ve got to get to Coalmont to use the telegraph. Too many questions have come up that we can’t find answers to here. Such as, who is Roger Horvath and where did he get the money to open a bank?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Artemus looked down at the jacket he was about to don, then brought his glance up. “Jim, you know how Jerry grew up… very poor. His widowed mother and two younger sisters…”

“Yes. I know.” Jim also knew what his partner was thinking. “Artie, look how many opportunities Jeremy has had since he’s been in the service. His mother is gone, both his sisters married well. Why would he wait until now to… to steal?”

Artie just sighed and shook his head. He had no answer to that. He’s right. Too dang many questions that we don’t have an answer for, both about Horvath and about Jeremy Pike. “We haven’t talked to all the miners yet.”

“Yeah.” Jim hung the towel on a hook. “If you really think it’ll help we could stay a couple more days and do that.” He gazed at Artemus.

Artie sighed again. “No. Even if one of them is involved, we’re not going to learn anything. You’re right. We need to contact Richmond and find out what’s going on out there. You know, I really don't know if hearing that Pike has been apprehended would be good news. It would mean he’s alive, I guess.”

“I could use a drink,” Jim said, shrugging into his jacket.

W*W*W*W*W

All that is necessary to break the spell of inertia and frustration
is to act as if it were impossible to fail.
Dorothea Brande (1893-1948), American writer and editor

Only after they noticed the increased number of customers in the saloon did they realize it was Friday. Sarah Peregrine told them that Friday nights were usually her busiest. “The boys come down from the hills, do their relaxing and drinking, camp outside of town, then pick up supplies on Saturday before going back to their mines.”

A number of the men present were ones they had not talked to yet, so it was a good opportunity. The agents split up, moving from group to group, buying a round when it seemed like a good idea, asking questions and listening to opinions. Most of all, the men wanted their money back. Unlike Nick Fotopoulos, Jeremy Pike meant nothing to them. Only one man claimed to have met Pike the day he arrived in the valley. He had stopped to water his horse at a spring by Dave Bianconi’s mine and confirmed he was on the correct route to the Fotopoulos claim.

Bianconi had seen Nick’s army picture and was certain that the man he spoke to was the same one in the photograph. However, he had not spoken to nor seen Pike after that day. Except for one other man who had been in town the day of the robbery and saw Pike and Harries riding out, no one else admitted to have seen the agent.

The story was different where Pete Naughton was concerned. He had been fairly well known, primarily because he moved from mine to mine, ranch to farm, seeking work or handouts. Joel Bartlett, who owned a small ranch in the area, said he often just gave Naughton a meal. “He wasn’t a real good worker. Always seemed to me not too bright. If anyone planned this holdup, it must have been your friend.” Several voiced similar opinions about Naughton.

Finally sitting down at a corner table with their barely touched drinks, West and Gordon were silent a long while before Jim finally spoke. “It just looks worse and worse for Jeremy.”

“Jim, how could this Naughton be the clever forger we’ve been told Harries was? Do you suppose Naughton was putting on an act here? As though he was thickheaded? Why would he?”

“Artie, we keep asking the same questions over and over… and still no answers.”

“You boys look discouraged,” Sarah Peregrine said, pulling out a chair and joining them. “I take it you’re not finding anything that exonerates your friend.”

“You take it right,” Artie sighed. “The witnesses identified him. He was in the area, Nick Fotopoulos verifies that. Appears not to be a case of mistaken identity.”

“What’s all wrong,” Jim put in, “is that we know Jeremy Pike very well, and find it extremely difficult to believe he could do such a thing.”

“Men change,” Sarah stated rather sharply. “Back in my home town in Kentucky, a man who had been minister at a church for over thirty years suddenly ran away with a young housemaid, the two of them stealing her employer’s jewelry and money.”

“It happens,” Jim agreed. “But Jeremy…” He did not complete his sentence, partially because he knew he was just going to repeat what he had said before, but also because he saw banker Roger Horvath entering the Red Bird in the company of miner Kenley Noyes.

Artie saw the direction of his partner’s gaze and looked around, then addressed Sarah. “Are they more than just banker and client?”

She frowned, shrugged. “I’ve seen them in here a couple of times together. I guess they are friends. I knew Noyes was in town. He came in for supper. Why do you ask?”

Jim also shrugged. We have no reason to suspect Horvath or Noyes of anything. No reason to suspect anyone… except Jeremy Pike. Sarah sat with them for a few minutes, chatting idly about mutual places they had been. Before settling here in Silver Hill she had traveled quite a bit, first with her army colonel father, and after his death, on her own.

“I guess I was looking for a home, and I found it here. Probably would have stayed even if I hadn’t fallen for and married Noah. Something about this place… the mountains, the isolation… it just suits me.”

After she had gone, Jim was not surprised when Artie voiced some thoughts he had been having. “Jim, we keep hearing that this Pete Naughton is very unlike the Radcliffe Harries we’ve been told about, that he’s as unlikely a clever forger as ever there lived. What if he isn’t Harries, that Jeremy realized that, but used him to… to plot the robbery? Arresting Naughton and saying he was indeed Harries gave him an opportunity to stay in the area long enough to pull it off.”

“So you’re saying it was Jer after all?”

“No! I’m just… supposing. I keep trying to figure out why Naughton was identified by Horvath as Harries. You know, we never did really talk to Horvath about that.”

“Until now it didn’t seem important.” Jim glanced over to where the banker was sitting with the miner. Both men were laughing about something. “Probably not a good time to talk to him. Perhaps tomorrow before we head out.”

“Yeah. After all, from what we’ve heard, Naughton fits the physical description of Harries. Being a banker, Horvath would naturally be aware and alert for such men. But speaking of heading out, I’m ready for the sack. All that riding today…”

“Go on,” Jim said. “I think I’ll hang around here for awhile.” His gaze was now on the lovely owner of the establishment as she spoke to several miners in a poker game at a nearby table.

Artie just smiled. “Don’t wake me when you come in.”

“I’ll be quiet as a mouse,” Jim assured him.

A half moon illuminated the quiet town as Artemus left the saloon and strolled down the narrow street toward their cabin. The sounds from the saloon were all he heard, a testimony to the sparse population of the settlement. In other towns he knew he would be hearing noise and seeing light from other similar establishments, and possibly from the residents of the upstairs apartments over various businesses. As far as he and Jim had learned, only Mr. Forbes and his family actually lived above their mercantile. Others, like Odell Ogden, had a home elsewhere. Ogden lived just outside of town, where his wife and children grew vegetables to sell to the local people.

Perhaps that very silence saved his life. He had just stepped off the board walkway that ended at the small building which housed the gunsmith’s shop, the only business besides the saloon on this side of the alley, when he heard a sound. Artie was unsure later whether it had been an indrawn breath, or the friction of cloth against cloth, but he heard it from the darkness alongside the shop.

Spinning he reached for his gun, but a rough hand grabbed his right arm at that moment, jerking it, so that the weapon slipped from his fingers before he was able to grasp it firmly. Quickly he brought his left arm into play and slammed a hard fist, connecting against a sharp bone that he quickly realized was a jaw. The man released him, stumbling back. At that moment, Artemus realized that another assailant was present, for the knife that man was holding glinted in the moonlight.

As the second man lunged for him, Artemus threw his right arm up to fend off the blow, and grunted with pain as he felt the blade cut into the flesh of his lower arm. Still, he used his left again to slam into this man’s chin, sending him staggering backwards. At that moment, Artie realized that the first man was on his feet and preparing to charge again.

He looked around frantically for his gun, and saw that it was pretty much out of reach. He was not surprised that his attackers were not using their guns. They did not want to call attention to the incident. Suppose Jim had been with me? That thought flashed through is mine as he backed warily away from the man, who was a large bruiser. No wonder my blow didn’t keep him down long!

“I don't know what you boys want,” he said in a conversational tone, “I haven’t got much cash on me, but you’re welcome to it.” They were out in the middle of the alley now. Artie felt the warm blood dripping down his arm, and the wound was stinging. If only someone would wander out of the saloon and see what’s going on! As it was, he was on his own. Both assailants were on their feet now; the smaller man had retrieved his dropped knife. Pretty obviously the plan had been for the bigger man to grab Gordon while the smaller used the silent weapon to finish him.

“Hey! What’s going on there?”

The sudden voice surprised all three men. Artemus recognized the deep tones of Odell Ogden, and a quick glance revealed the burly blacksmith standing just inside the open door of the stable. The two men were not obviously willing to take on another. Both turned and raced toward the shack, disappearing behind it. Artemus started after them, but heard the sound of retreating horses and halted. His arm was starting to throb anyway.

Ogden came outside then. He was holding a shotgun. “Mr. Gordon? You all right?”

“Just sliced up a bit. Do me a favor, will you? Go down to the Red Bird and find my partner. I’ll be in the cabin.”

Jim West came on the run. Artemus could tell by the sounds that other men were following, drawn by curiosity no doubt. “Artie! You okay?”

Artie was leaning over a basin of water, washing the blood off his arm. “Just nicked. Bleeding makes it look worse.”

Jim came over, picking up the oil lamp that was sitting on a small table near the bed, so that he could inspect the wound better. “Yeah,” he said with some relief, “it doesn’t look that bad. Maybe we can find some bandages…”

“I have some in my apartment,” Sarah Peregrine said, entering. “Also some salve.” She peered at the cut. “Doesn’t look as though it needs stitches.”

“That’s good,” Jim replied dryly, “since there’s no doctor in this town and the only one I know who could put in stitches is the man who needs them. What happened, Artie?”

Tersely Artemus related the story. “It’s odd. I don't think it was a spur-of-the-moment attack. They were laying in wait. But just two of them against one. What if both of us had returned together?”

“You didn’t recognize them at all? I mean, they weren’t in the saloon earlier?”

Artie shook his head. “I’m pretty sure they were not.”

“Come on,” Sarah commanded impatiently. “You need to have that bandaged before you bleed to death.”

As they exited the shack, the dozen men who had followed Jim after noticing Ogden’s urgent conversation with the agent demanded to know what happened. Jim just said it appeared someone tried to rob Mr. Gordon. For now, that was all they could publicly acknowledge though he knew, and was sure that his partner agreed, that that had not been the case.

Reaching the front door of the saloon, Artemus suddenly halted. “Jim? Where’s Sheriff Leale? He sleeps in his office.”

“That’s right,” Sarah said. “And he’s usually over here at some point on a Friday night. Wonder if he got called away?”

“Go with Sarah,” Jim said. “I’ll check.”

Jim West never considered himself a prescient man, but as he crossed the street to the darkened sheriff’s office, he experienced a deep sense of dread and concern. Sarah could well be right, that Leale left town for some reason. Yet… He stepped up onto the porch and tried the door. He knew from past experience that Leale always locked this door when he left; it opened easily.

“Sheriff?” he called as he pushed the door open. “Sheriff…?”

The odor that assailed his nostrils was all too familiar: The scent of death. Jim quickly found a match and lit the lamp on the desk. Ethan Leale lay on his stomach on the floor, arms out flung, his back covered with blood. Knowing the futility of the gesture, Jim still knelt and felt for a pulse. The skin he felt was cool, but not cold. The death had occurred fairly recently, probably within the last hour. An inspection of the wound gave him a good idea of the weapon used.

“Oh my God! What happened? Is he dead?”

Jim glanced around as he got to his feet. He had left the door ajar, but banker Horvath had pushed it wide open. “He’s dead.” Jim took Horvath’s arm and steered him out the door, then closed and locked it behind him, pocketing the key.

“I can’t believe it,” Horvath said loudly, “the sheriff is dead!”

Several men who had lingered on the porch of the Red Bird heard the exclamation, and started toward the sheriff’s office. Jim forestalled them by stepping down into the street and heading for the saloon. All the men followed him inside. He did not see Artemus or Sarah and presumed they were upstairs where Sarah could attend to the wound. Jim crossed the room to the stairs, mounted a couple then turned to face the men who were gathering and calling questions.

“Sheriff Leale is dead,” he said firmly. “Murdered. I’ll give you more details later. For the time being, I would appreciate if everyone stays in town until I have an opportunity to speak to you further.” He let his green eyes sweep over the group. Each and every one of them got the impression that their faces were burned into his memory, that he would remember if any of them disobeyed and left. In particular, he focused his gaze for a moment on Kenley Noyes and Roger Horvath.

Turning, Jim climbed the stairs, rapped on the door at the top, and then entered. The first room was a nicely furnished parlor, one that could have been in any modest home, not overly ornate, but looked comfortable. No one was in this room, so he called Artie’s name.

“In the kitchen!” Artemus called back.

Following the voice and the light he saw under a partially closed door, Jim found the room. Artie was at a table, his arm resting on the surface, with his sleeve rolled up, as Sarah was applying salve to the cut. The wound was about an inch long, but not deep. A secure bandage would hold it closed and allow it to heal.

“What happened?” Artie asked as soon as he saw his partner’s grim face.

“Leale is dead. I’m pretty sure he was stabbed, though the knife is missing.”

“Good Lord!” Sarah murmured, eyes wide. “Who…?”

“I’m guessing the same men who attacked you, Artie. Probably with the same knife.”

“What in the world?” Artie exclaimed, looking at Jim. He saw Jim’s eyes flick toward the woman and understood. Although Jim West obviously liked Sarah Peregrine, and had trusted her with information previously, he was too savvy to trust her completely, especially in this bewildering situation. “We won’t be able to do much in the dark.”

“I’m going back downstairs and talk to the patrons,” Jim said. “Come down and join me as soon as you’re bandaged up.”

“Will do.” Artie waited until Jim departed then asked his nurse, “Was the sheriff in your place today?”

“Earlier, for supper,” Sarah replied, “probably a little before you and Jim came to eat. He was here earlier too, talking to a few men. Molly told me he was asking them about Jeremy Pike, something to do with who suggested he specifically request Pike to pick up Radcliffe Harries.”

“Yes,” Artie murmured. “We spoke to him earlier about that.” Maybe he didn’t know his friends as well as he thought he did.

In the saloon, Jim briskly told the astonished men more about the murder, and then asked each of them to relate when they last spoke to the sheriff. Most were willing, saying they had not even seen the lawman since the previous time they came to town, some as much as a month earlier. A few had talked to him earlier in the afternoon.

Kenley Noyes was among those who claimed to have not even seen the sheriff for several weeks, but Roger Horvath admitted that the sheriff had come to the bank to speak to him earlier in the day. When Horvath appeared to be unwilling to publicly state the gist of his conversation with the sheriff, Jim called him to a corner table where they both sat down.

“Thank you, Mr. West. I wasn’t sure how much of this you wanted bruited about. Leale wanted to know if I was the one who suggested he specifically ask for Pike to pick up Harries.”

“Were you?”

“No, no. I am the one who called Leale’s attention to Harries, or Naughton as he was known. Later, when I learned that the sheriff had requested a man familiar with the area I thought it was a good idea. Why is this important?”

“Just part of the investigation,” Jim evaded.

“What do you plan to do now?” the banker inquired.

“I have to talk to my partner. Our plans had been to leave tomorrow, at least to travel to some town with a telegraph office, then probably return. But I suspect that’s going to be delayed.”

“I hope you do remain in Silver Hill,” Horvath said. “We are without a law officer!”

When Artemus appeared, the two agents crossed the street to the sheriff’s office. Inside, they lit both of the lamps they found, and Artie inspected the body. He agreed that a knife had caused the fatal wound. “About the same size of knife as the fellow who cut my arm was toting, I’d wager.”

Jim looked around the office. “No sign of a fight. My guess is the two men came in and maneuvered into a position where one was behind him. I’d say that also means he had no reason to suspect or fear them.”

“Maybe even knew them,” Artie muttered. “I gave Sarah a description of the pair who jumped me, but she didn’t recognize them. I may try sketching them to see if anyone knows them.”

“Good idea. Artie, this is becoming stranger and stranger. Why kill Leale? Because he was asking about who recommended sending for Jeremy Pike?”

“Wonder if Leale left any written records.” Artie glanced around the dimly lit room. “Jim, you know, of course, that we can’t leave now.”

“I know. But it occurs to me we could hire someone to take a message and send it for us, then wait for an answer.”

“Good idea. Perhaps Sarah can recommend some young fellow. But for now, I guess we’d better see about taking care of the sheriff.”

Molly’s husband, it turned out, was a carpenter who usually constructed the caskets when needed. The sheriff himself had been the coroner, but no formal funeral parlor was available. Families and friends generally took care of the burying, and Molly promised that she and her husband would see that Ethan Leale was properly interred in the cemetery outside of town. One of the miners had been a preacher before catching silver fever, and he often conducted the services.

“You know,” Artie commented as the two men prepared for bed in the small hours of the morning, “I was thinking that the attack on me was spontaneous, that they saw me and decided to take advantage of me being alone. But I’m not so sure now.”

“What do you mean?”

“These could have been two of the men who attacked us the other night in the hills. They could well have been waiting for another opportunity. They killed the sheriff, then saw me alone… a perfect opportunity… they thought.”

Jim hoisted himself up onto the upper bunk and gazed down at his friend. “But why? Why kill us? I mean, we’re perfectly harmless, lovable guys, aren’t we?”

Artie grinned briefly, then shook his head. “I don't know, Jim. As I said at the outset, the whole thing is fishy. None of it makes sense. Not Jeremy being specifically requested to make the arrest, regardless of the fact that he had been in the area previously. Why would that be important? Not the attack on us. Definitely not Jer robbing a bank and killing a man in cold blood. And now, why the sheriff… because he asked one question too many?”

Jim laid back. “Well, we’ll see if we can track those two fellows in the morning, though I’m not hopeful.”

“And morning is going to come much too soon,” Artemus moaned as he climbed into his bunk.

[California gal]

W*W*W*W*W

After an early breakfast at the Red Bird, the two agents set out. Sarah Peregrine had not come downstairs yet, but Molly was there to serve them, and also to suggest storekeeper Jesse Forbes’s son, Will, as the messenger they sought. Will was reliable, and he had a good horse. Plus he was always looking for a way to earn extra money. The general store was not opened yet, so they left that task until later.

Neither was surprised that although they picked up the trail on the other side of the cabin, they soon lost it. The assailants had headed directly for a well-traveled path, one that was already being used by people coming into town for Saturday shopping, as well as by those departing via the same route. They spoke to some of those people, but learned nothing useful, thus returned to town around midmorning.

At the cabin, they wrote up the messages they wanted to send; Jim took them to Forbes’s store, while Artemus sat down with his sketchpad to attempt to draw last night’s assailants. Will Forbes was a lanky young man in his early twenties. He eagerly accepted the charge to ride to Coalmont to send the messages, and then wait for answers before returning. Jim had a suspicion that the young man would have done the errand for free, but primarily because Forbes was going to have to stay at least overnight in Coalmont, he handed the youth some bills.

When he rejoined his partner, Artemus had the sketches finished. Jim studied them a long moment, then shook his head. “Don't think I’ve seen them before, either around here or anywhere else. I’m sure Sarah will allow them to be posted in her place. That seems to be the gathering spot.”

“True. Although it seems that most men don’t show up there more than once a week, and sometimes less often than that. Too bad no photographer is in this town. I could take pictures of the sketches and circulate them.”

“I just have a hunch that no one is going to know them, Artie.”

“Why would you say that? Sheriff Leale might have.”

“I don't know. Like I said, a hunch. They could have sold the sheriff on some cock-and-bull story. Something is going on here, perhaps something bigger than simply a robbery and murder… though that’s certainly big enough, especially with Jeremy Pike involved the way he is.”

“Do you think he’s dead?” Artie spoke in a low, strained voice.

“It’s possible. But… Artie, it’s useless to speculate. We’ve got to get more information, and I’ll be honest. I don't know where to turn next.”

“A lot will depend on what kind of information young Forbes brings back. We might be ordered to give it up and leave.”

“Yeah. I know.”

As they walked back toward the saloon, a horseman appeared in the street, a man riding a lathered horse at a rapid pace. They watched as he jumped from the saddle and dashed into the bank. “Not more trouble, I hope,” Artie murmured.

Jim just shook his head as they entered the Red Bird. If it was trouble, likely they would hear about it soon enough. Sarah was more than happy to display the drawings. She studied them herself, thought the thinner man looked somewhat familiar but could not place him. Molly came over and also checked the pictures. She could not recall seeing either man anywhere.

“Sheriff Leale is being taken care of,” Molly informed them. “Josh is making the coffin and Odell Ogden and another man are digging the grave. We’ll have the services tomorrow morning. I sent the word out, but it’s hard to say how many will be able to make it into town. Some have to travel quite a distance. The sheriff was a well respected man.”

“I didn’t think to ask before, but I’m assuming he didn’t have family in the area,” Artie commented.

“He was a widower when he came here,” Sarah said. “I think I heard that was about ten years ago. Showed up for the same reason most others came, but when he didn’t find any silver, he wore the badge instead. I never heard him mention any other family.”

“We’re going to spend some time today going through the sheriff’s office and the room he slept in,” Jim said. “Maybe we’ll find something there.”

However, they did not. The agents spent over two hours going through a desk and filing cabinet, as well as the small set of bureau drawers in the attached room with the bed and came up with literally nothing. Leale did not appear to write much down. What correspondence they found were letters he received, not copies of what he sent. He also had not retained many older items, as the bulk of the letters were dated within the last year; several were from Colonel Richmond regarding the assignment of Jeremy Pike to the case of Radcliffe Harries. A later one stated that additional agents were being sent to investigate the charge of robbery and murder against agent Pike.

“I wonder how many people Leale told we were coming,” Artie mused, laying that letter aside. “The attack on us in camp that night makes it apparent he did not exactly keep it a secret.”

Jim looked up from the folder of wanted posters he had been leafing through. “What would have happened if that attack had been successful, Artie?”

Artemus frowned. “More agents would have been sent in eventually. Though… with the communications problem, likely that would have taken a few weeks. First the sheriff would have had to have gotten word out that we never arrived.”

Jim was nodding. “So… did someone want and need that delay? Why?”

His partner scowled. “You keep asking unanswerable questions. At least unanswerable right now.”

When they left the sheriff’s office, both noticed that the lathered horse was no longer at the bank. They had speculated that perhaps the fellow had discovered a new strike and hurried to the banker to obtain a loan to develop it, or even to let the banker know that he would be able to make his next note payment because of the new find. Whatever the problem was, it obviously did not require the services of lawmen.

The hour was well past noon, so they returned to the saloon and ordered sandwiches and a beer. As usual, Sarah joined them, her eyes on the younger agent. Artie had apologized to Jim for the incident last night that might have disrupted any plans he had involving Sarah Peregrine. Jim had just shrugged it off.

“Any luck?” she asked.

Jim shook his head. “Not that you’d notice. We’re still trying to figure out how that attack on our camp figures into everything.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Did you ever tell Sheriff Leale about that?”

“No, because we didn’t know who to trust yet,” Artie said. Now it’s too late.

“And,” Sarah said slowly, “someone tried to kill you last night. Simply because you’re agents? Do you think they are accomplices of Pike and Harries?”

“That’s the question,” Jim replied. “What doesn’t make sense is that it appears that Pike and Harries have left the area. At least no one has spotted them in the month or so since the robbery. Why would any accomplices stick around?” Jim noticed that Artemus was looking at something behind him, and glanced around. He saw a rather disheveled, bearded old man sitting at a table next to the front window, devouring a sandwich. “Who’s that?”

“I was just about to ask Sarah,” Artie said easily. “Don't think I’ve seen him before.”

“That’s because he’s new,” the saloon owner replied. “They show up here now and again, old down-on-their-luck prospectors, still hoping there’s another strike to be made in the area. He swept the floors for me to earn the meal. Said his name was Charlie, I think.” She glanced toward the old man. “Do you think he’s involved?”

Artie laughed. “No, not likely. As you said, just another old sourdough.”

Several miners entered then, and because Molly was busy in the kitchen, Sarah went to wait on them. Artemus took a bit of his sandwich, chewed and swallowed it, and then picked up his beer, holding it close to his mouth as he spoke in a very low tone.

“James, I’m going to tell you something. Try not to look surprised.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jim replied wryly. “Have I got mustard on my chin?”

“Old Charlie over there is none other than Jeremy Pike.”

Jim picked up his dill pickle, studied it a moment then took a bite. “What makes you think so?”

“For one thing, he winked at me. But I was pretty sure before that.”

“What the hell?” All Jim’s self control was required to not turn around and stare.

“As our late dear friend, Count Sazanov once said, it is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. The good news is Jer is alive. The bad news…”

“Yeah, we might have to arrest him for robbery and murder. But we have to talk to him. I presume he’ll follow us when we leave.”

“But to where? Where can we meet? The cabin is too visible.”

“Jerry must have a horse.”

Artie nodded and pulled a small pad of paper and a stub of a pencil from his pocket. He scribbled a short note, tore off the top sheet and folded it very small. He then dug a dollar bill from his wallet and folded the note within it, all the while keeping an eye on Sarah and the men she was with. None appeared to be looking their way.

They finished their meal in a leisurely fashion, left money on the table as they waved to the still busy Sarah, and headed for the exit. Fortunately the table where the old man was sitting was close to the door. Artie veered that way. “Old timer, I hope this helps you through rough times.” He placed the folded bill on the table.

“Thankee sir,” a croaked voice replied as the bearded man grabbed the paper and stuffed it in a shirt pocket, never looking up. “Thankee much!”

Their horses were still at the hitching rack outside, so they mounted, riding at a slow pace northward. Artemus had remembered a cluster of boulders and scrub trees off the road north of town, and it was to this spot that they rode, always checking to ensure that they were not being observed. The attacks on them along with the murder of the sheriff were reason to be wary.

Inside the jumble of rocks and trees, the two agents dismounted and waited. Artie sat down on a smaller rock while Jim paced restlessly. “You’re sure that was Jer.”

“I’m sure,” Artie replied patiently. “Although I must say he did a dang fine job with the beard. Looks real.”

“He’d better have a good story for us,” Jim muttered, pausing as he thought he heard something, then resumed his movement. “I don’t get it, Artie. I don’t get it at all.”

“I’m wondering,” Artemus said slowly, “if he wasn’t being held as a prisoner somewhere.”

Again Jim paused, eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he gazed at his partner. “And forced to participate in the robbery? Artie, the witnesses said he shot the teller in cold blood!”

“I know.” Now he frowned. “Jim, you don’t suppose this is some kind of trap, that Jeremy…”

Jim was shaking his head forcefully. “No. No, I won’t believe that. Not until I see Jer pull a gun on me.”

“And I have no plans to do that,” Jeremy Pike said as he came around the rocks, leading his horse. He grinned behind the grizzled beard. “How ya doing, boys?”

Jim reached out to take the hand his friend and co-agent was offering. “Jeremy, where the devil have you been? What’s going on here? Do you know you’re wanted for robbery and murder?”

“Whoa,” Pike laughed. “One question at a time.” He shook Artemus's hand then moved to lean against a large boulder, folding his arms across his chest. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

“Please do,” Artie replied. “Before we keel over from curiosity.”

The story was rather straightforward after all. A little over a month ago, Pike had received orders to come to this area to identify and pick up a wanted forger named Radcliffe Harries. He had been told that the banker in the area was certain that the man in question was Harries.

“I was familiar with this area because my friend Nick has a mine here. I visited them a few years back. I got the impression from Richmond’s telegram that that played into my being selected for the job, plus the fact that not only was I free at the time, but I was nearby in Boulder. Knowing I did not have to hurry, I used it as an opportunity to visit Nick and his family again and stayed overnight with them before heading into town. I never made it. They must have been watching for me.

“I was roped off my horse, and knocked out. I woke up as a prisoner in an old abandoned mine that I think is about twenty miles south of Silver Hill, though I’m not absolutely certain. A half dozen men were there acting as my guards, and at first I couldn’t get any information out of them about what was going on. But as time went on, they became more lax, maybe even a little more friendly, though I was always guarded and always had a manacle on my ankle secured to the rock wall inside the mine.

“But eventually I learned that a robbery and murder had been committed in my name. In fact, I saw the fellow who posed as me, and I have to say they did a damn good job in finding someone who fit my description. Face is different, but anyone who didn’t know me, having heard a rundown of my height, weight, and coloring, would easily believe that they were dealing with Jeremy Pike. Ironically though, after the robbery was committed, that guy, whose name was Willard, was almost as much of a prisoner as I was. He couldn’t chance being seen.”

“What about Harries?” Jim inquired. “Or maybe I should say Naughton.”

“That’s the part I puzzled about and still do. His name is Pete Naughton, yet I grasped that he had posed as this forger, Harries. Never made sense to me, other than the name Harries was used to lure me to the area. Even that is perplexing. Also, I never met the big boss while I was being held, nor even heard him referred to by a name. Always just ‘the boss this’ and ‘the boss that.’ The men there were charged with keeping me a prisoner and out of sight until the time came to kill me.”

Artie was nodding. “You’d be found dead and that would end the search.”

“Seems so. Of late, I got a notion that that time was drawing nigh. Over the last week or so the boys there started showing some edginess. I didn’t know what was going on at first, and then I heard your names mentioned. Your arrival was a big fly in the ointment. Talk was you were to be killed, but that a couple of attempts had failed.”

“As you can see,” Artie grinned. Then he sobered. “So they had a guy who looked like you, and one who looked like Harries—at least by vague description—and they went into town to commit the robbery.”

“And murder,” Jeremy spoke grimly. “I learned that the young fellow in the bank was in on the scheme. But he wasn’t trusted. They were afraid he’d crack under pressure. So he was killed—adding one more charge against me.”

“They rounded out the whole story by sending the fake Pike into town prior to the robbery to get acquainted with the sheriff and others,” Jim said, nodding as things were finally clearing to an extent. “That guy brought Naughton in, identifying him as Harries. That seems to be a reason for having Naughton pose as Harries.”

“You’re right, so that everyone knew that Jeremy Pike and Radcliffe Harries committed the robbery and murder. I got the impression that the gang was pretty pleased with the success of the deal… until you two showed up.”

“But you have no idea who’s behind it?”

“None whatsoever. I can tell you this. I did get the idea that the boss was in the bank at the time of the robbery.”

Artie frowned. “That would be banker Horvath, the blacksmith Ogden, and two mine owners, widow Noyes and her brother-in-law Kenley Noyes. An unlikely bunch to pinpoint a criminal mastermind.”

“I could be wrong,” Jeremy admitted. “No one told me anything directly. I just listened to idle talk when they were hanging around outside the mine’s entrance.”

“How did you escape?” Jim wanted to know.

“It wasn’t easy! I lived for nearly a month in that mine. Today was the first time I’ve seen full sunshine in all that time. They fed me a couple times a day and I had a bucket of water and a bucket to use as a latrine. The first week or so they were very diligent in checking to make sure my chain was secure. I was deliberately passive, too. First couple of days my head hurt like hell after the blow that knocked me cold. I think that helped them to believe I wasn’t going to try anything. I tried to give the impression I felt the situation was hopeless.

“But a couple of weeks ago I found a piece of metal, apparently the broken end of an old pick. It was too thick to use to open the manacle on my ankle, but I used it to chip away at the end that was drilled into the wall, always careful to do it when no one was near, and to remove debris. I can tell you I held my breath any time someone came in, lest they decided to resume their checks. But they didn’t.

“Last night, it finally came loose. I had to leave immediately once that happened, and it was easier than I expected. The men had been growing more and more bored, taking to drinking to pass the time, thus sleeping soundly. I tiptoed out, even found my own saddle and horse. They hadn’t bothered to do anything with my gear, so all my clothes and makeup were still in the bags. Once I got clear, I used a picklock that was in my saddlebag to remove the manacle, and then I doctored my face as you see now.”

“Then the beard is real!” Artie exclaimed.

Jeremy tugged on it. “Very real. And itches like crazy. I’ll get rid of it as soon as I can. I could use a bath as well.”

“I noticed that,” Jim retorted.

“Well,” Artie said, “some things have been explained. But others have been made more puzzling. We know that Nick Fotopoulos did not keep your friendship with him a secret, and he has a photograph of you with him and some other army comrades. It appears that somehow, someone figured out a way to use this Willard’s resemblance to you, as well as Naughton’s similarity to the real Harries.”

“Seems to me,” Jim mused, “that means someone is acquainted with the real Harries. Or… Good Lord!” His eyes widened in astonishment.

Both Pike and Gordon looked at him, and Artie asked, “What?”

“Horvath! Jer, I’m sure you never met him, at least not here, but his physical description is very similar to that of Radcliffe Harries.”

Artie gasped. “You’re right! Why didn’t we notice that before?” He answered his own question, shaking his head in frustration. “Because Horvath is a well-respected banker, and a victim of the crime, of course. He was out in the open and easy to overlook.”

“Remember the fellow who rode hell-bent-for-leather into town this morning and dashed into the bank?” Jim added. “He probably came to report Jer’s escape.”

“True,” Artemus nodded now, “but neither is proof a judge and jury would accept.”

“You’re saying that one of the men who had been guarding me rode into town to alert this banker of my escape?” Jeremy inquired. “What did he look like?”

Jim could only shake his head. “He moved too fast. To be honest, we didn’t pay that much attention to him.”

“So the question is,” Artemus spoke up, “what do we do next? Jer, to your knowledge, did you ever meet the real Radcliffe Harries?”

“No, not face-to-face. But shortly after the war, I had returned to the police force in Albany and had just made detective when I helped another detective track down some counterfeiters. One of them was Harries. I never spoke to him, and didn’t testify, but I sat in on the trial and was pointed out as one of the arresting officers. I don’t remember if my name was mentioned at the time.”

“Would you remember him if you saw him again?” Jim asked.

Pike shrugged. “Maybe. It was a long time ago.”

“But Harries would have a better idea of what you looked like than simply from Nick’s photograph,” Artemus mused. “He was sent to prison?”

“Yeah, but only for a couple of years. He was a pretty minor character at that time.”

“He might have remembered you.”

“Yeah, could be. Kind of far-fetched though.”

“It’s obvious this plan was a long time in the making,” Jim said. “If it’s Horvath, and if Horvath is actually Harries, he could have learned of your present situation and worked it into his scheme.”

“A lot of ifs in there, Jim,” Pike noted.

“One thing is certain,” Artemus said, “we can’t allow anyone to realize that we know you’ve escaped.”

“Artie is right,” Jim broke in. “I think you should hang around town as Charlie, doing odd jobs, just keeping your eyes and ears open.”

Pike was nodding in concurrence. “I had hidden my horse and walked into town because I feared someone might recognize it and blow my disguise. I retrieved him to come here. But I can’t leave him out there.”

“I think,” Artie said slowly, “that Odell Ogden at the livery can be trusted. We can ask him to get the horse and take care of it.”

The three men parted company, agreeing that West and Gordon would delay their return to town to allow “Charlie” to get there first. Pike informed them where he would leave his horse, so it could be picked up after dark. Jim and Artemus took a roundabout route not only to delay their return but also to make it appear that they had been out investigating again. As they rode, they discussed the situation. Jeremy’s appearance and tale had clarified a number of questions, but as Artie mentioned earlier, other aspects continued to be bewildering.

“Let’s say it is Horvath,” Artie said. “It makes sense because from what I understand, Radcliffe Harries dropped out of sight around the same time Horvath opened the bank here. What a great cover! I wonder how many documents he forged in order to set himself up as a reputable financier.”

“He may have had such a robbery in mind from the very outset, only needing to wait until conditions were right… when he had a large stake in the safe.”

“I get the idea that Horvath initiated and encouraged the scheme for all the miners to collaborate, shipping their ore and having it sold at the same time. I’m sure that was a long process, not something that happened overnight.”

“Which gave him time to set up everything else, making sure that Jeremy Pike was summoned at the right time.”

“But it’s still pure speculation on our part,” Artemus grumbled. “The witnesses said…” He paused and looked toward his partner. “Jim, the witnesses.”

“Yeah. Horvath would have wanted outside witnesses, someone reputable; someone who would be believed. Young Byerly was in on the plot, but I have no doubt that he was doomed from the start. Odell Ogden seems to be respected in town, but he’s also a black man. Unfortunately, his testimony would carry less weight… than a pair of middle-aged miners who had been in the area for even longer than the bank.”

Artie was shaking his head. “The Noyes? Maybe Kenley, but his sister-in-law?”

“Could be just him. Perhaps he brought Thyra with him for further corroboration.”

“Kind of cruel if he knew a cold-blooded murder was going to be committed.”

They rode in silence for a while before Jim spoke again. “How the devil are we going to get proof, Artie? Short of finding the loot in Horvath’s home or desk.”

“Or find the fake Pike and Naughton.” Jeremy had not been able to give them very clear directions to where he had been held. He had been unconscious when brought to the mine, and upon escaping had ridden around in the dark for a long period before getting his bearings and figuring out the direction to town. He was unsure if he could find his way back.

“Suppose Jer revealed himself and told what happened to him? Would he be believed?”

Artie pondered it a moment. “The few people who were in contact with the fake would know he was a different man. Nick Fotopoulos could testify along with us that he is the real Jeremy. But Jer doesn’t know who the boss is. I’m not sure that would help. Maybe we need to keep Jer as our ace in the hole.”

By the time they reached town, both men were feeling frustrated because they had not been able to come up with a plan. Both agreed that Horvath, if he was the culprit, would not have left the bank loot with the men who posed as Pike and Harries, or with the ones who had been guarding Pike. The only thing they could come up with to do was to attempt to put pressure on Horvath, and to that end, they entered the bank’s offices immediately.

Roger Horvath was alone. He greeted them affably and when he noticed Artemus's glance toward the empty teller cage, he shook his head ruefully. “I had to let Baldwin go. Things were slow enough before the robbery, and business is almost nonexistent now.”

“I understand you never paid interest on deposits,” Jim commented.

Horvath sighed. “That was coming up. I was in the process of persuading a number of the miners to leave their proceeds here in the bank. I hoped to use it to make more loans, whereupon the interest on loan repayment would have allowed me to pay interest on deposits, thus encouraging more deposits. It’s a cycle you see. I’m a very small operation here.”

Artemus had taken one of the visitor chairs, and now he leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Do you mind telling us how much of the theft was covered by your insurance?”

The banker sighed again. “Only ten percent. I couldn’t afford a higher premium. That was going to change too. That money from the sale of the silver was important in so many ways, to the miners and their families, to me, to the entire region. I expected to be a full-fledged banking operation as a result, which is why I helped organize it in the first place.” He looked at them. “I’m assuming you are no closer to finding Pike and Harries, let alone the murderer of Sheriff Leale. I don’t imagine they are connected.”

“Why would you say that?” Jim asked mildly.

Horvath cleared his throat. “I rather assumed that the sheriff’s murder was an act of revenge, perhaps a grudge against him.”

Jim cocked his head. “Do you know of someone with a grudge against Leale?”

“Well, no, not offhand. But you know, when a man wears a badge for awhile… I’m sure you two have enemies out there.”

“A few,” Artie acknowledged sardonically. “How do you plan to stay in business?”

“That’s a good question, Mr. Gordon. I’m looking into the possibility of a loan, but I don't know. I have no assets to speak of now. Just a couple hundred dollars in that safe, the furniture in this office. I don’t even own the building. It belongs to Mr. Forbes across the street, and I owe him rent!” Horvath shook his head. “This bank was a long-standing dream I had, but I’m afraid it’s going to end in heartbreak, for me, and for the miners here. I feel very responsible for what happened, but who could have known that a respected government agent would turn rogue?”

“Yes,” Artie murmured. “Who knew? So you are thinking you may have to close down?”

“I’m going to hang on as long as possible. I have to regain the trust of these men, of course. Somehow I would like to pay them all, in full, but I don’t see how that’s possible. That was a lot of money that was stolen, gentlemen. We can only hope that Pike and Harries are run down, and the money recovered.”

“That’s our intent,” Jim said evenly. “Watches are being kept along the borders, as well as all seaports. But of course, there are ways to slip through. If Agent Pike was indeed involved, he will be brought to justice, along with Harries.”

Horvath looked at him. “You seem to think there’s some doubt. Several people identified him, myself included.”

“So it seems.” Jim gazed at Horvath steadily. After a long moment he was rewarded as the banker shifted his gaze to look toward a front window and cleared his throat again.

“Quite frankly,” Horvath said, as he regained his aplomb, “I cannot think how you can doubt. I realize you feel protective toward one of your own…”

“That’s part of it,” Artie put in, getting to his feet. “Thank you for you time, Mr. Horvath.”

“Why did you cut that short?” Jim inquired as they untied their horses.

“Always leave them guessing,” Artemus replied. They started walking toward the livery stable. “I’m not at all certain we were successful in shaking him up. He did seem a bit disconcerted at times but that could be due to the stress he’s under.”

“Sounded to me like he was laying the groundwork for departing the area.”

Artie glanced at his partner. “You’ve made up your mind he’s the one?”

“He’s the most logical, Artie. He’s got the brains and the ability to set the whole thing up. You don’t agree?”

“Oh no, I agree all right. I just think we’d better not move too swiftly.”

“With any luck, young Forbes will be back tomorrow with some replies from Richmond and others. We now know they won’t tell us they’ve picked up Pike or Harries, but maybe something else useful.”

“How’s it going, gents?” Odell Ogden asked, stepping out of his forge area as they approached. “Anything new on the sheriff’s murder?”

“Nothing,” Artie said, shaking his head. “Not even a motive.”

“Yeah, that beats me, too. I mean, I know law officers ain’t always the most popular kind of folks. But Ethan was a good man. I can’t think of anyone from this area that might have wanted to hurt him. Some folks thought he wasn’t much of a sheriff, but there wasn’t much sheriffin’ to do around here. Mostly he arrested drunks and petty thieves.” The blacksmith frowned. “Don’t suppose it was somebody mad on account of he hadn’t gotten the money back yet.”

“You just never know sometimes,” Jim replied casually. “Could have been someone from far in Leale’s past. Or it could have been some spur-of-the-moment type thing. We might not know until we catch the killer.”

“I was wondering,” Ogden said, “if it was the same two that attacked Mr. Gordon last night.”

“We’re wondering the same thing,” Artie said. “By the way, I don't know if I thanked you for your timely interruption.”

Ogden waved a hand. “I’m glad I was still in the shop to hear it. How’s your arm?”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Artemus decided to take a gamble. “Mr. Ogden, what do you know about Mrs. Noyes and her brother-in-law?”

Frowning, Ogden shook his head. “Not a lot. They have just the one horse that pulls the buggy and he brings it in ever so often to have the shoes replaced. So I don’t see them much. They ain’t the type to socialize with the likes of me.”

“Do you know where they originated from?” Jim inquired.

“Alabama. Arkansas. Somewhere like that. I heard the Noyes brothers owned pretty sizeable property down there, lost it during the war, mostly from pouring all their money into Confederate bonds.”

“Familiar story,” Artie nodded. “So they came to Colorado and struck it rich.”

“I wouldn’t say rich,” Ogden laughed. “The brother that died, not sure if you heard, he mostly drank himself to death. He wasn’t well when they showed up here sometime back, and all that whiskey didn’t help him none. They also got here late, after the best claims had been taken. From what I hear, they’ve been scraping out a living in their claim, and that’s about it.”

“But they have two hired men?” Jim puzzled.

“Yeah, so I heard. Always wondered how they paid them. Maybe a share of what they dig up. But hell’s bells, a man could likely get hired on at a dozen other mines and be paid regular better than what a share of the Noyes’ diggings would get them.”

The agents paused at the cabin door while Artemus checked for the small piece of wood he had inserted between the door and the frame; it was still there. Entering, Artie glanced at his partner. “Maybe you’re not so far off suspecting the Noyes of complicity. At least Kenley Noyes.”

Jim tossed his hat on the upper bunk and turned around, a sour expression on his face. “Artie, we are getting absolutely nowhere. All we know for sure is that Jer is alive and did not participate in the robbery.”

“But…”

“We sent the wrong questions to Richmond! If we could have waited one more day and talked to Jeremy first we could have asked more about the Noyes pair as well as Harries.”

“Jim…”

“I don't know about you, but I have no idea what our next move should be.” Jim sat down on the lower bunk, still glowering.

Artemus stood with his arms akimbo. “Not every assignment is as simple as stopping Loveless from destroying the world.”

For a moment, Jim stared at his partner. Then he grinned. “Yeah. I guess I get a little impatient. Got any ideas?”

Artie grabbed one of the chairs, spun it around and straddled it, leaning his arms on the back. “For one thing, we wait to see what kind of information Will Forbes brings back to us. We can hope that Jer gets more work at the Red Bird so that he’ll have a good opportunity to see Horvath.”

“We might bring Sarah in on it.”

“You trust her enough?”

After a moment, Jim had to shake his head. “Not yet. Which reminds me, we forgot to ask Ogden about taking care of Jeremy’s horse.”

“I can do that.”

“While I…?”

“Now you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, James, but perhaps you could cozy up to Sarah and try to find out what she knows, if anything. Maybe try to figure out if we were wrong in trusting her as much as we have.”

Jim got to his feet with a mock somber face. “That’s a tough assignment, pal. I’m surprised you trust me with it.”

Artemus grinned. “I know you’re up to it. I’ll join you there once I get the horse squared away.” He stood up, then paused, sobering. “I hope we’re right in trusting Ogden.”

“I think we are where he’s concerned. I agree with him that people like the Noyes wouldn’t work with a colored man. He just happened to be in the bank, which gave them another witness.” Jim gazed at his partner soberly. “The fact of the matter is, we have no idea who to trust other than ourselves and now Jeremy.”

“Maybe Nick,” Artie put in.

Jim nodded. “Maybe Nick. But…” He shrugged. “I just hope we weren’t wrong in taking Sarah into our confidence earlier, telling her about the nighttime attack at our camp… and now telling Ogden.”

“Well, time will tell. I’m starting to agree with you where the banker is concerned. My money has to be on Horvath at the moment.”

“Yep.” Jim picked up his hat and headed for the door, pausing as he started to open it. “Keep alert.”

“You too.”

W*W*W*W*W

Sarah Peregrine’s face brightened as she saw the handsome agent enter her establishment. Giving some final instructions to old Charlie about washing bar glassware, she strolled toward Jim as he took a table near the door. “How are things?”

“Nothing new,” he responded, his glance flicking toward one of the empty chairs by way of invitation.

Sarah accepted readily. “Where’s Artemus?”

“He’ll be along. Had something to take care of. Are you saying you prefer his company to mine?”

She put an elbow on the table and leaned her chin against her palm. “Not necessarily.” Her brown eyes caught and held his green ones. “I had hoped you’d stay around longer than you did last night.”

“I hoped so too. But circumstances…”

“I know. I expect in your job, circumstances often interfere with… pleasure.”

“I’m afraid so. But I do manage to find time, once in awhile, to relax.”

“I hope tonight’s one of those nights.”

“Something wrong?” Jim noticed how her glance shifted toward the bar, her brown eyes clouding, a slight furrow appearing between them.

“What? Oh… no. I mean… Lord, I have to tell someone, and who better to tell than a federal agent.” Sarah leaned closer, her voice dropping. “I don't think Charlie is who he says he is.”

Jim retained his aplomb. “What makes you say that?”

She glanced again toward the bar where the “old man” was busily polishing glasses and stacking them. “I don't think he’s nearly as old as he tries to appear to be, Jim. I’ve been watching him. I’m all but certain he’s a much younger man.”

“What are you thinking?”

Sarah sighed. “I don't know, but with everything that’s happened here… I’m worried that he might be bent on some kind of trouble. I’ve tried to study his face, figure out what he looks like without the beard, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him before.”

“You want me to arrest him?”

She laughed lightly, sitting back. “I guess you can’t do that. But maybe you could talk to him, see what you think.”

“I might just do that,” Jim agreed, glancing toward the front door. “There’s Artie. Everything okay?”

Artemus nodded as he neared the table. “Just fine. All taken care of. I think we were right.”

Sarah made a face. “All right, I know that cryptic conversation is because you’re talking about something you don’t want me to know about. What do you want to drink?”

They asked for beers and while she was fetching them, Jim quickly told his partner of the saloon owner’s worries. “I don’t like the idea that she might voice her suspicions to others.”

Artie nodded. “That might be a real problem. Do we chance it and trust her further?”

“I don't know what else we can do. At least then if information gets out, we’ll know the source.”

Sarah Peregrine looked at the two men quizzically as she placed the glasses of beer before them. “What happened?”

Artie sighed. “You know, Jim, this woman is just too darned quick. Can’t put a thing past her.”

“Sarah,” Jim said, “we need to talk to you, in private. And to Charlie. After a bit, invite the two of us upstairs for a visit, and ask Charlie to bring some refreshments up.”

She looked at each of them sharply, then nodded. “All right. Molly will be coming in about twenty minutes. Once she’s here I can leave for a while. If I don’t perish from curiosity in the meanwhile!”

No sooner had Sarah gone off to attend to other matters when banker Horvath entered in the company of Kenley Noyes and two other men. The banker nodded shortly toward the agents, then led his party to the far side of the room.

“Wonder who those other two are,” Artie murmured, lifting his glass to his lips.

“I’m wondering why Noyes seems to come to town so often. From what we’ve been told, most of the miners make infrequent trips into Silver Hill.”

“That’s true, isn’t it,” Artie mused. “And he also seems to spend a lot of time with the banker. Here comes Jer. Must be something on his mind.”

The old man shuffled up to their table with a wet rag and proceeded to lean over and wipe off some imaginary spots. “Need a refill, gents?” he asked aloud.

“No thanks,” Jim replied in a similar tone.

“Need to talk to you,” Pike said, leaning across the table to wipe a spot on the far side.

“Hold onto it,” Jim muttered. “Sarah is going to call you upstairs in a bit. We have to bring her in on it. Explain later.”

Though his eyes reflected puzzlement, Pike did not comment, taking the empty beer glasses and heading back toward the bar. Jim extracted a slim cigar from the case in his jacket pocket and lit it. He was in a position to watch Horvath, Noyes, and the two other men, who were behind Artemus, but he deliberately focused his attention elsewhere, all the while watching the quartet in his peripheral vision.

“The pair with Horvath looked like miners,” Artie commented, idly stretching his arms above his head.

“That’s what I’m thinking, and I’m wondering if Jer recognizes them.”

That turned out to be precisely the case, as they soon learned. Molly reported for work and a short while later, Sarah came to the agents’ table and blithely invited them up to her apartment to sample a pie she had baked. On the way toward the stairs, she instructed Charlie to bring brandy and glasses upstairs.

Several minutes were required to sort things out, first explaining to Jeremy why they were bringing Sarah into the scheme, and then revealing Charlie’s true identity to Sarah.

Her mouth dropped open. “Why haven’t you arrested him?”

More explanations were made. Finally, Jeremy was able to speak his piece. “Four men came in a little bit ago. Two of them I’m certain were among my guards. The well-dressed gent, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen before. Is he the one who calls himself Roger Horvath?” As Jim nodded, Pike’s face grew grim. “It’s been a long time, but I have a good notion that your idea about him is right, Jim.”

“You’ve told me this much,” Sarah put in. “What’s going on with Horvath?”

“We think he may be the real Radcliff Harries,” Artemus said. “He fits the description—as did Pete Naughton.”

“My Lord,” the saloonkeeper breathed. “Is that possible? He’s been a pillar of rectitude and reliability here in Silver Hill.”

“If we’re right,” Jim spoke quietly, “it was a long-running ploy, establishing himself to gain the confidence of the residents, and the miners in particular.” Damn, I’m getting a bad feeling about bringing her into this… but I don't know why.

“And end up with a quarter of a million dollars,” Artie added.

“My Lord,” Sarah said again. “I think I’d better pour some of that brandy!”

“And I’d best get back downstairs,” Pike said, getting to his feet, “before folks wonder why the likes of old Charlie is socializing with the likes of you!”

Artemus dug in his pocket and flipped a silver dollar toward his fellow agent. “For services rendered. Be sure folks see you pocketing it.”

“We’ll talk to you later, Jer,” Jim added as Pike headed for the door. “Stay clear of Horvath and his friends as much as possible—just in case.” Jeremy waved his acquiescence as he closed the door behind him.

“I’m finding this so incredible,” Sarah said as she handed each man a snifter with amber liquid. “Never in a million years would I consider Roger Horvath a criminal!”

“That means he did a good job selling himself,” Artie said, sipping and savoring the excellent liquor.

“If Jer is right that the two other men with them were among his guards,” Jim said slowly, “that seems to indicate Noyes is in on it.”

“Well, that I can believe,” Sarah put in. “He has whined about being short of money ever since I’ve known him. I always got the impression he thought that the mountain should just open up and shower gold on him, simply because he’s a Noyes from Alabama.”

“You know something about him?” Artie inquired.

“Oh, just that apparently the Noyes were wealthy back home and lost it all in the war. I didn’t know Ken Noyes’ brother. He died shortly before I came. But from what I’ve heard, he couldn’t bear being a mere laborer and drank himself to death over it.”

Jim finally took a sip of his own brandy and nodded his approval before speaking. “What do you know about Thyra Noyes?”

“Only that she apparently is made of stronger stuff than her husband. More like her brother-in-law. I’ll never forget the day I was introduced to her. That was before I married Noah. My maiden name was Evert and I had told her that I was from Kentucky. Thyra immediately wanted to know if I was kin to the Lexington Everts. When I told her my father was a sharecropper far from Lexington, her nose went straight into the air. I don't think she’s spoken to me since other than to order a meal when she comes in.”

“If her brother-in-law is involved,” Artemus asked, “do you think she could be in on it as well?”

Sarah frowned. “I don't know. I’m sure she misses the prestige and comfort of her Alabama home, but I don't know if she’d go to such lengths to recover them.”

W*W*W*W*W

I know a maiden fair to see,
Take care!
She can both false and friendly be,
Beware! Beware!
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee.
From the German (In Hyperion) — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“Now this is a switch,” Artemus proclaimed as the two agents rode out of Silver Hill.

Jim smiled. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Oh, yes you do. You’re the one who’s usually won over by a pretty face, while I remain skeptical. I get the impression you’re worried about Sarah.”

Now Jim shook his head. “I’m just being cautious. She says all the right things.”

“She told you about her suspicions about Charlie. If she was on the other side, why would she have done that?”

“Good question. Damn good question. I’m probably wrong. I’ve been burned a few times, you remember.”

Artemus eyed his partner. “Maybe you’re more worried about the fact that you like her.”

“Yeah,” Jim admitted, “that could well be it. Been a long time since I…” His voice trailed off.

Artemus decided to let that part of it drop. He was all too aware that Jim did not like to display emotion. The pain experienced while remembering a love lost was not something Jim West understood, or wanted to reveal. “Well,” he said then, “at least, as mentioned before, if some of what we discussed is revealed, we’ll know where it came from. But I think we can trust Sarah Peregrine. We have no reason not to.”

“Hope you’re right, pal.”

They had decided to use what remained of the summer daylight to attempt to backtrack Pike’s trail. He had told them where he found himself when he first spotted the town, and as much as he could remember about his nighttime trek. Because of their travels through the area seeking the miners, West and Gordon hoped they might be able to spot something that would help indicate the specific area where Jeremy had been held prisoner.

However, as the sun was lowering toward the western peaks, they returned to town no wiser than they had been before. Encountering a couple of miners did not prove to be of much help; they did not recognize anything described to them. The agents could only surmise that the mine where Pike had been held was deep into the mountains, and not in an area recently mined or even prospected.

“Well, what shall we do this evening?” Artie asked as they dismounted at the livery stable. “Want to see that new play at the Bijou, or dinner at Antoine’s?”

Jim chuckled. “Both sound great, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to settle for a couple of drinks at Sarah’s.”

Odell Ogden grinned at them as he accepted the reins of their horses. “There sure ain’t much to do around here once’t the sun goes down, that’s for sure. If it wasn’t for Sarah’s place, I reckon quite a few fellows would go crazy.”

All three men laughed, then Artemus sobered. “Odell, I don't think we asked you—when was the last time you saw the sheriff alive?”

“Yesterday,” the blacksmith said after a moment’s thought. “He came by and asked me if I’d ever said anything to him about specially requesting agent Jeremy Pike to come to Silver Hill.”

“And your answer?” Jim inquired.

Ogden just shook his head. “I didn’t have no idea what he was talking about. Didn’t know anybody asked him to request Pike. I didn’t know anything about the Harries business.”

“But you’d heard of Pike before,” Artie put in.

“Well sure. Like I said earlier, Nick talked about him time to time. He was real proud to have a friend in the government service.”

Now Jim asked, “Did you notice where the sheriff went after he finished talking to you?”

“Sure. He walked down to the corner and went into the bank.”

Neither agent spoke until they were inside the little cabin. “And a couple hours later, Leale was dead,” Artemus murmured softly as he stripped off his fringed jacket after tossing his wide-brimmed hat onto the bed. “Beginning to look more and more like Horvath is at least involved.”

“And we still have nothing more than speculation,” Jim grumbled. He had not even removed his hat, his face revealing his anger and frustration.

“Well, if the boy comes back tomorrow with some information from Richmond, we might have a little more to go on.” Artie rolled up his sleeves as he stepped to the small stand and poured cold water into the basin.

Jim now sailed his hat to the upper bunk. “I don’t have much hopes on that. We didn’t ask the right questions.”

Artemus reached for the rough towel to dry his dripping face. “No one else knows that.”

Jim grinned. “That’s right, isn’t it? Could be we’re going to get some very important information in whatever young Will brings back to us.” He suddenly felt much better.

W*W*W*W*W

The two agents, along with about a dozen local people, attended the graveside services for Sheriff Leale the following morning. The rite was simple, the former pastor read biblical passages and led a prayer for the late lawman. Artemus noticed the presence in particular of banker Roger Horvath, as well as the absence of saloonkeeper Sarah Peregrine. He commented on both as they walked slowly back into town afterwards.

“Not surprising that Horvath would attend,” he said, “but it could either be because he knew Leale and respected him or…”

“Or he didn’t want to arouse any suspicion,” Jim completed the thought.

Artemus glanced at his partner, noticing the lack of a mention of Sarah. They had gone to the saloon for breakfast, but Sarah had not been present, with Molly serving the few customers and apparently cooking as well. He had been surprised the previous evening as well when Jim returned to the cabin with him, rather than lingering with the lovely woman. For whatever reason, Jim is uneasy about her. I don’t see it myself, and we’ll just have to wait to see how it plays out. Could well be because he doesn’t trust his own emotions.

The one thing they had seen last night, when they entered the saloon for supper, was Sarah at a table with Roger Horvath. That alone was not particularly suspicious, as far as Artie was concerned. Horvath was a customer and an old acquaintance. They had taken Sarah into their confidence regarding Horvath, however, and if she had avoided an old friend, he might have been the one to become suspicious. She had also not jumped up from the table, as if experiencing guilt at having been found in Horvath’s company.

To their surprise, young Will Forbes was waiting for them on the porch of the general store as they returned from the services. The youth grinned proudly as he informed them he had gotten a very early start to return to Silver Hill, knowing that the agents were waiting for him. He handed over a sealed envelope. Artie passed him another coin in gratitude, and told him they might need him again as a courier. They then returned to the cabin before opening the envelope.

Two missives were enclosed, both from Colonel Richmond. The first one tersely stated that neither Jeremy Pike nor Radcliff Harries had been captured, or even seen anywhere, despite a concerted effort to recruit the services of lawmen all over the west, into Canada and Mexico.

“No surprise there,” Artie commented wryly after reading it aloud.

Jim handed him the longer response and Artemus read it silently then met his partner’s gaze. “Seems our colonel is one step ahead of us.” Richmond stated that he had done some cursory investigations regarding Roger Horvath, and had come up with nothing. “No records have been found regarding his birth, his family, or any connection with a bank or other financial institution. Will advise as further information available.”

“Again,” Jim said quietly, “it’s not proof. This is a big country. Richmond may not have asked the right people.”

“True. Very true. I don’t believe that Horvath mentioned any point of origin for himself prior to coming here.” Artie paused, eyes narrowing a moment. “That might be a point of origin for ourselves, asking him questions about his past.”

Jim nodded accepting the note back to fold and replace in the envelope. “Artie, that’s something that’s right up your alley. I’m sure you can think of a tactful way to ask those questions to let him think we’re starting to suspect him.”

“That doesn’t take much tact!”

Jim grinned. “And you’re good at that too.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“I’ve been thinking about something. You know, we said earlier that even if Horvath was involved, it was highly unlikely that he would keep the stolen money in the bank. But it occurs to me… what safer place?”

“So you’re thinking about breaking into the bank’s safe?”

“Been awhile since I cracked a safe.” Jim studied his fingertips.

“Then it occurs to me that you’d better do that before I start asking questions, no matter how tactfully. Once Horvath gets wind of our suspicions…”

“Partner, you worry too much. Here’s my idea. Horvath goes to Sarah’s almost every evening. You join him there for a casual conversation. I’ll hit the bank.”

“I want Pike to help you.”

“Artie, didn’t I just say…?”

“I heard what you said. Jim, we have no idea who else may be involved in this scheme. You won’t know who to watch out for, nor will you be able to do any watching while you open the safe. Jer can do that.”

Jim sighed. He knew his partner was right. “All right. How do we get Jerry out of the saloon.”

“Sarah can…” Jim West was adamantly shaking his head. Now Artemus sighed. “Jim, we don’t have any reason whatsoever to suspect that Sarah Peregrine is involved.”

“Call it a gut feeling.”

Artemus met his partner’s gaze for a long moment then nodded. “All right. Having as few involved as possible would probably be safer anyway. We’ll need to slip a note to Jeremy and he’ll have to think of his own excuse for getting out of there. How will you get into the bank unseen?”

“The windows in the back. I may be able to pry one open without breaking anything.”

“And if you find the money?”

“I’ll leave it there. Chances are good that if you do a job of letting Horvath know we’re onto him, he’ll decide to move it. We grab him with the loot.”

“James, you are brilliant.” Artie’s tone was dry, but his eyes were sparkling.

“I do have my moments,” Jim grinned back.

[California gal]

W*W*W*W*W

The first indication that something was amiss occurred when Jeremy Pike did not show up behind the bank as earlier arranged. Slipping “old Charlie” a note with the instructions had been fairly easy as he shuffled around the saloon wiping off tables that afternoon. Artie had simply allowed him to “wipe up” the tightly folded paper inside one of his rags. Pike had then subtly let them know that he understood and would comply.

West and Gordon left the cabin at nightfall. While Artie went on toward the saloon, Jim waited in the shadows of the bank across the street. Artie paused in the doorway to wave a signal that confirmed Horvath’s presence inside the tavern. Jim then quickly retreated around behind the bank’s building and crouched under the windows, waiting for full darkness and Pike. Darkness arrived, but Jeremy Pike did not.

Jim resisted the temptation to go take a peek into the saloon to see if the agent was there. He did not want to chance being seen; Artie would have done something about it if that was the case, anyway. Although few people were out and about on an evening in this sparsely populated town, the risk remained that someone would see him if he crossed over to the saloon and back. Pike would have a good reason for not joining him, he was certain.

So after waiting more than thirty minutes, he used a flat piece of metal he had found in the cabin to pry open a window, then climbed through. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he did not light a match to illuminate his surroundings, making his way carefully to the dark bulk he knew was the safe. Cracking the combination to open the safe took a little time, but it was accomplished. Only then did Jim strike a match, shielding it with the safe’s open door as much as possible.

After a moment or two, Jim blew out the match, closed the door and retreated out through the window, closing it carefully behind him. He knew the jimmy had made marks on the sill, but primarily on the outside. Chances were they would not be noticed unless someone specifically looked for them. He made his way behind the livery stable, and then crossed to the cabin.

There he waited in the dark, listening for any sounds that might indicate his break-in had been noticed. Hearing none, Jim left the cabin and strolled toward the main street. As he neared the saloon, he heard a woman laughing. Sarah Peregrine, highly amused about something. Perhaps Artie had just told her one of his patented stories.

However, upon gaining the half open door of the tavern, he paused. The only persons in view were Sarah, Roger Horvath, and one of the men who had been with Horvath previously, rough-clad and probably a miner, all seated at a table. No other customers, or Molly, were present, not even the usual bartender. Sarah was facing the door. She got to her feet as soon as she spotted Jim West.

“Jim! There you are. We were just wondering where everyone was. Come and join us. Where’s Artemus?”

Jim retained a noncommittal expression. She does not know that I witnessed Artie entering about an hour ago. “He’s around somewhere. I thought he might be in here.”

“No, haven’t seen him this evening. Old Charlie has gone missing too. Maybe the two of them are up to some mischief.” With her back to the table, she winked conspiratorially. “Come on, sit down. Mr. Horvath was just telling us his plans to revitalize the bank.”

“Thanks, but I’d better go back to the cabin. Artie might be looking for me there. I got restless and took a nighttime ride. I’ll be back later.” He waved a friendly hand and exited before she had an opportunity to say more.

Once outside, Jim retraced his route in reverse, going to the cabin, but not entering before crossing over behind the livery, and from thence to the bank. He had dropped the piece of metal in the brush near the rear of the bank, but found it easily. Working swiftly, he again opened the window and climbed through. This time around, opening the safe was a bit easier because he had discovered the combination previously.

He did not need illumination as he reached inside the safe to find the large suede pouch made bulky by its contents. Gathering it up and closing the safe, he exited through the window, closed it, and hurried back toward the cabin, after making only one stop. He had not been inside the cabin for more than five minutes when he heard sounds outside.

W*W*W*W*W

“Next time,” Artemus Gordon muttered, “I’ll pay attention to Jim’s hunches.”

“Well, how do you think I feel?” Jeremy Pike growled. “I spent over two days in her presence and didn’t notice a damn thing. Now it turns out she was the mastermind!”

The two men were tied back-to-back against a supporting pole in the basement of the building that housed the saloon above them. A single small lantern in the far corner of the musty area provided dim illumination; otherwise, they would have been in pitch darkness. Artemus was unsure why Sarah Peregrine had left the lantern, but he was grateful for it.

He had entered the saloon as planned, spotting Horvath and another man at a table as he did so. Sarah was behind the bar at the time, but no one else was present, not even “old Charlie.” He had assumed that Jeremy had gone to join Jim as planned. Artie had sauntered up to the bar, greeted Sarah genially and ordered a beer. As she served it, Horvath called his name and invited him to sit with him. At the time, Artie had been pleased, because that was just what he had wanted.

As he sat down, Horvath introduced him to his companion, a miner named Wolcott. Wolcott, according to Horvath, had been one of the very few not affected by the robbery. He had wisely—or foolishly, depending on one’s viewpoint—not participated in the plan to combine assets and thus had not had any money in the bank.

Artie had listened, sipping his beer, as Horvath talked on and on, saying that Wolcott had now offered to actually deposit his funds into the bank to help assist it in getting on its feet again. He did not pause for comments or questions, droning on and on. At the time it occurred to Artie that Jim might have time to finish his task and come to the saloon to help throw out the hints about their suspicions before Horvath finished his soliloquy. Then he started noticing some lightheadedness.

The drug worked rapidly after that, and although he did not completely lose consciousness, he was helpless as two more men emerged from the kitchen area to seize his arms and drag him down into the basement, where Jeremy Pike was already imprisoned. He too had been served a Mickey Finn, in the coffee he had taken with his supper. He had been conscious enough to hear Sarah telling the few customers present that “Charlie” had been sneaking drinks from behind the bar, and had passed out in drunkenness.

“Well, in my defense,” Artie said then, “I’m pretty sure that Jim did not suspect her early on. After all, it was his idea to reveal your disguise to her.”

“I know. I just wonder what made him suspicious in the first place.”

“He just told me it was a gut feeling. I hope that same feeling causes him to be cautious, and maybe stay away from the Red Bird.”

“But you know when we turn up missing…”

Artemus sighed. “Yeah. I know.” His partner would go through hell and high water to find them, Artie knew. Jim West sometimes acted rashly, but he could also behave in a wisely thought-out manner. Artie hoped this would be one of those occasions.

Those hopes were dashed less than half an hour later when they heard sounds, first on the floor above them, and then descending the narrow staircase that led from the kitchen into this rough cellar. The man introduced as Wolcott entered first, but Jim West followed, his hands tied behind his back. Sarah Peregrine, Roger Horvath, and several other men trailed behind. Once all were on the basement floor, the rather small enclosure seemed even smaller.

“Well, here you are,” Jim spoke jovially. “I wondered where you two got to.”

“We knew how you liked to play hide-and-seek,” Artie retorted, keeping his eyes on his partner’s face and looking for signs. How the devil did Jim get grabbed so quickly? Surely he would have been more alert than that! Then again, Jer and I were taken rather easily. He knew Jim West had something in mind… but how did he plan to carry it out while a bound prisoner?

“Now that we have all three agents,” Horvath beamed, “enacting our little drama will be easier.”

“Drama?” Artemus echoed. “Did you know that I was once on the stage? What play did you have in mind? Something by Shakespeare, I hope.”

“No,” Horvath growled. “One I have authored. A tragic tale of three agents who die in a gunfight. Two brave honorable agents against one murdering turncoat.”

“I don't think I like the plot,” Jeremy muttered.

Sarah spoke then. “Earl, go bring a wagon into town. Be quiet about it. We don’t want to wake anyone up. And send word to the Noyes to get ready to leave. They should join us here in town before dawn.”

“I take it you plan for this gunfight to be held somewhere other than here in Silver Hill,” Jim said calmly.

“It’ll be much easier to stage,” she replied. “Without witnesses.”

“You should know,” Artie said sharply, “that the government will hunt you down.”

Horvath chuckled. “By the time word reaches the outside, we’ll be long gone, living in South America with our ill-gotten gains, and enjoying every minute of it.”

“Are you sure of that?”

Jim West’s tone was light, but contained a slight edge. Enough so that Horvath, Peregrine and the others, including the two bound agents, turned toward him. Jim stood off to one side, his body braced, legs slightly apart. His face was stony.

“What are you talking about?” Horvath demanded.

“Just what I said. Are you sure you’ll be leaving with that money in hand?”

Sarah was the first to grasp his meaning. “Rad! Go check your safe!” As Radcliffe Harries alias Roger Horvath dashed up the stairs, followed by all the men, Sarah turned to Jim. “You’d better be bluffing.”

Jim West gazed at her. He had just exchanged glances with his two fellow agents, and saw that they instantly comprehended what he had done—and what they should expect. “And if I’m not bluffing?”

“Then you’ll likely die a lot sooner than expected.”

Jim smiled. “I don't think so. Not if you want the location of where I stashed that leather pouch.” The scowl on her pretty face revealed that she realized his mention of the pouch meant he had actually seen the contents of the safe.

“You’ll talk!” Her rage and hatred robbed the beauty from her face. “If you want your pals to live, you’ll talk!”

He just shook his head. “Kill me, and you’ll never find the money. Harm either Gordon or Pike, same thing. You might as well give up, Sarah. You’ve lost.”

She slapped him then, hard, allowing her fingernails to rake across his cheek. Jim’s head jerked back under the blow, but he recovered quickly, and kept his eyes on her face as she snarled, “You’ll tell, Jim. You’ll tell us where it is.”

“You should know,” Artie spoke up, straight-faced, “that all agents are required to take an oath that they will never reveal vital secrets, whether their own or others’ lives are threatened.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy chimed in, “I was surprised they didn’t require us to sign that one in blood!”

Sarah looked at each of the agents then sneered. “We’ll see how much an oath means when you hear your friend screaming in pain, West.” Then she stepped back, a smile curving her lips. “That is, if the money is missing in the first place.”

Artemus saw his partner return the smile. He was unsure just what exactly Jim had in mind, but he knew for certain that Jim had taken the money out of the safe and hidden it somewhere. Chances were excellent that the hiding place was a good one, a spot where someone like Harries would never find it.

Harries and the other men returned then, stomping down the stairs. Harries’ face was ruddy and perspiring. He immediately went to Jim West, grabbed him by the shirtfront and slammed him back against the wall. “Where is it?”

The force of his body hitting the rocky wall momentarily drove the breath from his body, but Jim was able to speak in a hoarse voice. “Ask Mrs. Peregrine.”

Releasing the agent, Harries spun around. “What’s he talking about?”

Her lovely face was still twisted with rage. “He says we can’t do anything to make him tell.”

“Sarah,” Artie said softly, “you don’t lie very well.” He was unsure whether this was exactly what Jim had in mind, but it seemed a good chance to sow some seeds of discontent.

“They must have told her!” one of the men snarled.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sarah snapped. “They’re just trying to stir things up.”

Harries stared at her for a long moment, looked back at Jim, who was now smiling slightly. “I don’t like games.”

“Could have fooled me,” Pike offered. “Seemed like you were playing one huge game when you convinced the authorities that I robbed your bank and killed a man.”

“Did you look everywhere?” Sarah interrupted. “He can’t have gone very far with it. The cabin?”

“We can make West talk,” Harries grated. His eyes still showed he retained suspicions. Artie could almost read his thoughts. Sarah had played up to Agent West over the last couple of days. What if she was changing her allegiance, planning to share the loot with the federal men?

“I think we should conduct a thorough search first,” Sarah said. “He might have even left it in the bank!”

Radcliffe Harries was obviously torn. Jim continued to watch the pair, half smiling, meeting Harries’ glare evenly every time he looked his way. After a long moment, the pseudo-banker nodded slowly. “All right. Let’s tear this town apart. They’ll be safe down here. We can deal with them later if need be.” With a jerk of his head, he mounted the stairs, and soon the three agents were alone.

“Do you think they’ll find it?” Artie asked as his partner moved toward them.

“Maybe. But not for a while. With any luck, we’ll have time to get the hell out of here and find some weapons. They took the knife out of the back of my coat, but I still have the one in the boot. Hope I don’t cut one of you.”

Saying that, he lay down on his back and kicked his boot so that the knife blade ejected. He had to contort his body, lifting the boot up to meet the ropes that secured the two men to the post first while trying to watch his own movements. I really don’t want to stab one of them!

The blade was sharp but the process was awkward and thus slow. Eventually, though, the ropes gave way. Immediately Artemus dropped to his knees to allow Jim to ply the blade against the ropes on his wrists. He was able to move his arms up and down against the blade, which severed the fibers much more swiftly. He then untied Jim and Jeremy.

“They might have left a guard upstairs,” Jim said softly, as they headed for the stairs, “but I doubt it. Harries seemed pretty confident.”

“He’s been confident this whole time,” Jeremy grated. “And he damn near got away with it.”

“He might still,” Artie warned. “Remember, we need weapons.”

Jim led the way as the trio climbed the stairs as quietly as possible, ears attuned to any sounds above them. They heard nothing, but Jim still acted cautiously when he opened the door, peeking out into the kitchen area. A single lantern illuminated that room as well, and the dimness caused him to believe it was unoccupied. A guard would have likely turned the wick up. He stepped out into the room and the others followed.

The procedure was repeated with the door to the main saloon and restaurant area. Though it was better lit, it was unoccupied. Artie immediately checked behind the bar and came up with a short-barreled shotgun and a box of shells, which he stuffed into his jacket pocket. Jeremy climbed the stairs, while Jim went to the windows to peer out. They did not dare turn down any of the lamps, lest it be noticed. But the indoor lighting would make them more visible as well.

“I don’t see anyone,” he said. “They’re probably down dismantling the cabin.”

“Where did you hide it?” Artie asked. His partner met his gaze and shook his head. Artemus understood immediately. Jim wanted to be the only one possessing that information… just in case. Artie knew that no amount of persuasion would change his partner’s thinking, so he did not try. They had more important matters to attend to just now.

Jeremy returned carrying a small pistol and a rifle, which he tossed to Jim. “It’s fully loaded, but I couldn’t find any extra cartridges. I did find a box full for the pistol.”

“We’re in decent shape as far as weapons go,” Jim said then. “I don’t see anyone outside. I’m thinking they’re at the cabin, or perhaps the livery. I don't think Harries was kidding when he said they’d take this town apart.”

“We’ve got to stop them before it comes to that,” Artie said softly. The town might be sparsely populated, but innocent people should not be caught up in this, their battle. He knew that if the residents were threatened, Jim would give up his secret. I hope Harries doesn’t figure that out!

“I’ll go check out back,” Jeremy said then, heading toward the kitchen. Jim and Artie crouched down then so as to be less visible, remaining tense and alert, aware that the searchers could be coming back at any time. Pike returned just a couple minutes later.

“They are down by the cabin. I can’t see them all, but I could hear someone talking, as though giving orders. Likely Harries. What now?”

“Jim,” Artie said, “we might find more weapons in the sheriff’s office.”

Jim nodded. “I was just thinking that. It’s also a sturdier building and we might be able to hole up there, if necessary. Let’s go.”

They dashed across the dirt street in the darkness, and reached the lawman’s quarters with no problem. They did not light any lamps, but quickly found the supply of rifles and ammunition that Leale had kept in reserve. As they were checking and loading the guns, Pike spoke.

“Jim, it occurs to me that if I can get to Nick, he can help me round up some help.”

“That’ll take time,” Jim said slowly.

“But it might be our best chance,” Artie put in quickly. “Our horses are in the livery stable, and we don’t have much of a chance to get to them. But Jer’s horse…”

Jim was nodding. Quickly he told Pike where the liveryman had hidden his horse. After a bit of discussion, they figured out the best route for Jeremy to reach that spot was to slip out of the office, go around behind the building and pretty much circle the town. Pike took one of the rifles and the pistol he had found in Sarah Peregrine’s room, and departed. The two remaining agents waited in silence, listening for gunshots or any other sign that Pike had been spotted. After about twenty minutes, Artemus sighed.

“Maybe he made it.”

Jim did not reply. He was on his knees at the side of one of the two front windows, intently watching the darkened and shadowy street outside. Artie had searched the sheriff’s personal quarters in the rear in the hopes of finding more ammunition, without success. What they located in the drawers of the desk was a decent supply, but if they had to withstand a siege of several hours, the supplies could run low.

“We have about a hundred rounds total,” Artemus said then, after laying out the cache of ammunition on the desk. “More for the rifles than the pistols. Would have been nice if we could have found our own weapons.”

“Yeah,” Jim breathed. They had not taken the time to search the saloon thoroughly, and maybe they should have. Not knowing what Harries and his gang were doing, they had not dared to linger. “Here they come.” He ducked back to ensure he was not spotted at the window.

Artemus remained still at the desk. He had a view out the window but was fairly certain that with no lamps lit inside with them, he was not visible from without, unless he moved around a lot. “They’re going back into the saloon. Likely planning to start beating us up.”

The pair waited in silence, and did not have to wait long. Within minutes, the men spilled out onto the street again, with Harries shouting orders to once again scour the town for the missing prisoners. Sarah Peregrine remained on the porch of the Red Bird as the men scattered.

“They’re going to be searching the whole town now,” Artemus said after awhile, hearing shouts up and down the street. “Hope they don’t start rousting the families who live here.

“Maybe we should let them know where we are.” Jim spoke very softly. He knew that he and his partner would be thinking along the same lines: they would not allow harm to come to the townspeople.

Artemus picked up a rifle and moved to the other window. “Let the games begin,” he murmured, and slammed the barrel of one rifle through a window, the shattering glass loud in the night’s silence. Almost simultaneously, Jim followed suit at his window.

Immediately they heard new shouts outside, and saw men running in their direction. “I think we should keep the initiative,” Jim said softly. He lifted his rifle to his shoulder, aimed and fired. A shadowy figure across the way staggered and fell with a cry of pain. Sarah Peregrine dashed inside the saloon.

The next minutes were hectic as the men outside sought shelter and began to return fire. Jim and Artemus attempted to use their ammunition wisely. One hundred rounds sounded like a lot unless one considered how rapidly a repeating rifle could fire.

“Pretty good odds,” Jim said, settling back on his haunches to pick up a second fully loaded weapon. “Probably about eight to one.”

“Piece of cake,” Artie responded. He fired, saw a man pitch forward from his shelter. “Make that about seven and a half to one.”

Perhaps fifteen minutes later, the shots from outside ceased, and a moment after that, a voice yelled. “You in there! Give it up! You haven’t a chance.”

“Sounds like Harries,” Artie said.

“You can’t win! We have you surrounded and outmanned! Surrender and tell me where the money and you can walk out of here alive.”

“Uh-huh.” Jim busied himself reloading a rifle.

“How about you come in here, Harries!” Artie yelled back. “You can be our guarantee of safe passage!” He lowered his voice. “When pigs fly.”

The barrage resumed. Time crept by for the two men in the jail. Artemus wondered aloud what would happen if Harries thought about setting fire to the place. The building was stone, but the roof was not. “Thankfully he apparently hasn’t considered that yet,” Jim responded.

Because their attackers had found shelters, hitting one of them became more and more difficult. By the same token, the shots fired from outside mostly flew through the now completely broken out windows or thudded into the outer walls or door. For the most part a standoff ensued. Harries apparently became impatient though, and ordered a charge on the building.

The assault didn’t last long. Two of the six men fell in the street, another staggered back for cover, while the other three followed suit a little more swiftly. However, in the midst of it, Artemus thought he heard his partner emit a grunt of pain.

“You all right?” he asked when things momentarily quieted.

“Yeah. Fine. I’m fine.”

The mere repetition and forcefulness of the assurance told Artie that the opposite was true. In the darkness, he could just see Jim’s form still crouched by the window. Nothing I can do anyway. If he’s still erect, it can’t be too bad… I hope.

“Artie,” Jim spoke up a few minutes later, “occurs to me that I should tell you where the money is hidden… just in case.”

“Just in case what, James?” Artemus could not keep the anger from his tone. “How badly are you hit?”

“It’s just a crease along my shoulder. Hurts like hell and is bleeding, but nothing serious. Makes me realize though how precarious our situation is here.”

“You’re just now realizing it?” Artie turned and snapped off a shot toward a light colored hat he saw across the way. The hat immediately disappeared.

Jim had to chuckle. “No, I’m not just now realizing it. But that money is important to the folks in this area. Jer will be back with help, but we don't know when… and what will happen in the meanwhile.”

“All right. Where did you stash it? Some terribly deep and dark secret place I presume.”

“Very. See that post at the corner of the porch on the bank? There’s a loose plank just to the left.”

Artemus Gordon’s mouth dropped open. “It’s there?”

“It’s there. Sometimes the most obvious is the best hiding place, don’t you think?”

Artie did not respond. He had been assuming Jim had dug a deep, secret hole somewhere, or at the least, took the money to some remote part of town. Right under Harries’ nose!

“How are you doing for cartridges, Artie?” Jim asked a bit later.

“About twenty-five. You?”

“Same. Trying to limit the shots, but they get too bold.”

“How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s okay.”

Once again Artemus knew his partner was lying, but he could do little about it just now. To take the time to try to bandage the wound would remove attention from the task at hand, and as Jim said, every time they slacked off, their attackers tried to shift position, find better vantage points. A couple of times the agents were able to quickly dissuade any movement, but that consumed precious shells.

Artie pulled his pocket watch out and studied it in the darkness. “Near as I can make out, dawn is a couple hours away. Wish there was some way to know what’s happening with Jeremy.”

“Yeah, that would be nice, wouldn’t it? We don’t even know for certain that he got away.”

“I know. I’m trying to keep positive thoughts.”

Jim was speaking the truth. The fact that they had not heard anything during the time Pike was escaping did not necessarily mean anything, though one would have expected that if Harries stopped Jeremy, he would have said something by now. As well, Jeremy had a long trek to the Fotopoulos mine, then more time would be consumed while they gathered men to form a posse to bring back. Added into the sheer distance of riding needed would be the time required to convince every man that this was the real Jeremy Pike and explain the situation. One could only hope that Nick’s status in the area would facilitate matters.

Jim held his weapon with the barrel resting on the windowsill, easing the strain on his wounded right arm. It was a “crease,” but deeper than he wanted his partner to realize at the moment. Artie tends to be a mother hen at times. Jim was more than aware of the seriousness of their situation. With their ammunition supply dwindling, despite that they had picked off five or six of their attackers, the odds were still not good. For all they knew, Harries had also sent for help. He could have more men up in the hills. The question was which “help” would arrive first?

Giving Artie the location of the money might or might not have been a good idea. If only one of them was taken captive, chances were good Harries would not believe that the information had not been shared, so he would attempt coercion, just as he planned when they were captive in the cellar. At least he was giving Artie the opportunity to reveal the hiding place, though Jim knew that his partner would resist as hard as he himself would. That money belonged to the hardworking miners and their families.

I made the big mistake when I trusted Sarah Peregrine. In my defense, I had no reason to mistrust her initially, but I should have been more cautious. I can’t say why I trusted her, anymore than I can define exactly why I started to feel the other way. Just a gut feeling in both instances. Now it’s easy to see how she played us along…

Harries voice interrupted his thoughts. “West! Pike! Gordon! You don’t have a chance! Give it up!”

“Well,” Artie said softly, “that’s encouraging if he thinks Jer is in here.”

“Yeah,” Jim agreed. “He might think that with just the two windows, we’re taking shifts.”

“I hope so.” Artie took a moment to shove cartridges into the breech of his rifle. “Jim, we can’t hold out too much longer.”

“Don’t I know it. Jerry has had time to get to Nick’s, if he didn’t encounter any problems.”

“And possibly back—if he was able to convince others easily.”

“If not?” Jim looked toward his partner. “Do we cave?”

“You know as well as I do what Harries wants. He’ll make it pretty rough on both of us. I’d rather go down in a quick blaze of glory.”

“You might have that chance!” Jim lifted his rifle and fired out the window.

Artie looked out in time to see a torch arcing to the ground from the hand of a man who had apparently been about to carry it, or throw it, toward the jail’s roof, as that man pitched toward the ground. “Uh-oh. So they’ve finally decided on alternative methods. If they get smart enough to circle around behind…”

He did not need to finish the thought. If the roof were set ablaze, the smoke would be unbearable. They would have to evacuate. Come on, Jerry. We can’t hold out here much longer, fire or no fire.

Minutes later, their fears were realized as the odor of smoke began to permeate the air. Artemus looked up; even in the darkness he could see the wisps seeping through the seams in the wooden ceiling.

“Could get a little warm in here,” he commented, turning back to the window. They were reserving their ammunition now, shooting at only sure, or near-sure, targets, particularly when one of their assailants got bold or tried to move to another position.

“I imagine the wood up there is pretty dry,” Jim returned, concentrating his aim on a man inside the saloon across the street. The fellow had been getting bolder and bolder, standing up to aim and shoot, presenting a good portion of his bulk in the shattered window. “Shouldn’t take too long.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Artemus paused as Jim fired and they both watched that incautious man pitch forward through the window, ending up hanging with his head on the wooden porch. “Do we save a bullet each?”

Jim did not answer, understanding what his partner meant. Eventually not only smoke, but fiery pieces of roof and ceiling would start to fill the room. A fiery death would be painful.
I don't know what I’d do if I saw Artie on fire and knew I couldn’t help him otherwise…

“Last chance!” Harries yelled from somewhere outside. “Come on out or be roasted to death!”

“Your last chance too!” Jim called back. “You’ll never find the money!”

The response was an angry curse and a loud order to his men to open a barrage. The two agents dropped to the floor as bullets whizzed over their heads.

“I think you made him a little angry, James,” Artie chided, amused.

“I have to agree,” Jim replied in the same dry tone. “Sure wish they’d built this place with a back door!”

“Yeah, that would have given us half a chance, wouldn’t it? Although I suppose Harries would have stationed men back there.” He blinked against the increasing smoke fumes and tried not to cough. Jeremy, where are you!

Just then he heard something odd. Gunfire emanating from somewhere other than across the street, apparently aimed at the men in and around the saloon. Jim heard it too. “What the devil?” through the window Jim saw a couple of Harries’ men turn their attention to the new threat.

“Jer?”

Jim shook his head, started to speak and involuntarily coughed, his eyes watering. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Not unless he was completely unsuccessful.”

“Jim, that new firing is coming from two sides.”

Jim knew what he meant. One rifle was speaking from somewhere to their left, the other to their right. “I don't know… but since it’s not being aimed at us…” He coughed again. The smoke was getting thicker and thicker, and the red embers could be seen burning through the ceiling now.

Artemus coughed as well and wiped his eyes. “Who can it be?”

Jim shook his head. “Sounds like only two guns… three at the most. Not going to help us much, I’m afraid, other than keeping those fellows across the street pinned down a little.” Enough gunshots were being aimed in their own direction to preclude any thoughts of escaping out the front. Only as that last resort… Going down in a hail of bullets might be preferable than burning to death.

Artemus could see the eastern sky from his window and noticed the lightening. It had been a long night and would probably soon be over. Seemed Harries was willing to let them die and take his chances on finding the money. Would he think of tearing up his own front porch? Jim came up with a clever spot. Almost certainly Radcliff Harries would not expect such a bold move. Too bad we might not be around to watch his frustration…

“Artie!” Jim choked the word out, coughed before he could speak further. “Listen!”

At first all Artemus heard was the crackling of the growing flames above them, punctuated by the shots from out on the street. Then he discerned what Jim was hearing. Distant, but unmistakable. Horses. A lot of them, and obviously approaching town at a furious pace.

It quickly became apparent that their assailants were hearing the same thing, as firing tapered off, and some shouts sounded. At least one voice was Harries, angry, obviously giving orders to continue the assault. Jim guessed that at least twenty horses were coming their way; the men in the saloon and environs were down to well less than half that many, he was pretty sure. They might not like the odds.

“Not a moment too soon,” Artie rasped, and coughed, eyes watering. He climbed to his feet and took a step toward his partner. In the glow of the flames licking through the roof now he could see the dark, wet stain on Jim’s right shoulder.

The miners, with Jeremy Pike and Nick Fotopoulos at the head, hit Silver Hill at a full gallop, guns firing. The battle didn’t last long. Half a dozen men threw down their arms; two died and several others just took off running. Pike sprinted toward the now blazing building as soon as he realized matters were under control, experiencing great relief when he saw the two coughing and hacking men stumble out.

“Damn, Jim, you’re hurt,” Jeremy cried, reaching them.

“I’m all right,” Jim wheezed, taking deep breaths of the cool, clear morning air.

“Jer, as soon as those men are corralled and under control,” Artie spoke swiftly, “better get some help to put that fire out before it spreads.” He turned his head to look down the street. “Well, I’m not exactly surprised.”

Jim turned to see the man bearing a rifle striding up the street. The blacksmith waved to them. “Everybody all right?”

From the other direction two men approached, the owner of the general store and his son, both with their weapons in hand. Others among the sparse town residents were creeping out to see what was going on. Artemus turned to shake hands with Odell Ogden.

“Your distraction was a great help. Thank you. Thank you all.” He included the father and son in his gratitude.

“We weren’t much of an army,” Ogden said, “but I’m glad we helped.”

Looking back, Artemus started to tell Pike how these townsmen stepped up. “Where’s Jim?” he asked abruptly.

“He went toward the saloon,” Jeremy replied. “I asked if he was going to find a place to rest but he didn’t answer.”

Now Gordon gazed at the group being held under guard by the miners. “And where’s Harries and Sarah Peregrine?”

Pike was startled, turning his attention to the gathering. “I thought I saw Harries when we first rode in.”

“Jim went after them,” Artie grated, and sprinted toward the saloon.

The throbbing in his shoulder and the rawness of his throat seemed to vanish as Jim West hurried up the stairs, his rifle in one hand. He had seen movement at the top of the staircase just as he pushed in through the front door. Must be something up there one of them doesn’t want to leave behind. Money?

He was about two-thirds of the way to the top when he saw further movement above him through the unlit morning gloom, so flattened himself on the stairs, ignoring the renewed surge of pain in his shoulder as a shot rang out, the bullet whistling above his head. In that moment, when his rifle was awkwardly useless, held at his side, a woman’s voice spoke below him.

“Throw the gun aside, Jim. Do it!”

He peered through the posts and saw Sarah Peregrine holding a shotgun similar to the one Artemus had found behind the bar earlier. He knew instantly he had raced headlong into a trap, even before Harries spoke from above.

“Do it, West. We have you in a crossfire.”

Knowing the truth of that statement, Jim West slowly climbed to his feet, and as he did so, the front door burst open again. Artemus halted, raising his rifle to his shoulder. “Drop that gun, Harries! You too, Sarah!”

Harries laughed. “You can only get one of us at a time, Gordon. I suspect you’d be reluctant to shoot a woman, but believe me, she will have no such qualms about using that scatter gun on your friend here.”

A surge of anger and helplessness coursed through Artie’s soul. Harries is right. But… Slowly he lowered the rifle. “You might as well surrender, both of you. Your men are being locked up, and thirty angry miners are out there surrounding this building.”

Harries descended a couple of stairs, keeping his pistol aimed at Jim, who was on his feet now, one hand on the banister, the other still holding the rifle. “Drop the gun, West,” Harries ordered. “You too, Gordon.”

“You’re acting like a fool, Harries,” Artie spoke sharply. As the light improved, he was realizing that his suspicions were probably true, that Jim was injured more severely than he let on. Not only was the shoulder of his jacket shiny and wet but blood was dripping off his right hand. He must have been in great pain all night, using that arm to handle the rifle. “Sarah, talk some sense into him. Those miners out there are not going to let you escape.”

“Yes they will,” Harries spoke before the woman could. “Because you’re going to order them to. We’re taking West as a hostage. After, of course, he tells us where the money is hidden.”

Jim shook his head. “No dice.” He watched his partner out of the corner of his eye. To someone who didn’t know Artemus Gordon, the signs would be invisible. Jim knew his partner was waiting for someone… or something. Pike is out there somewhere.

Harries came down two more steps. He was still out of easy reach. “You’ll tell. Or bleed to death.” Without warning, Harries stepped closer, swinging the barrel of his pistol, slamming it into Jim’s right shoulder. The sudden and unexpected move gave Jim no time to gird himself and the cry of pain leapt from his throat as he fell back against the banister, the rifle clattering down the stairs.

“You bastard!” Artie yelled, starting forward and lifting his rifle. He stopped instantly as Harries put his weapon against Jim’s head as the agent crouched in agony on the stairs.

“Put that rifle down, Gordon!”

Artie knew he had no choice at this moment. He placed the rifle carefully on a table and took a step away from it, glancing toward Sarah Peregrine as he did so. She was still below the stairs, still holding the shotgun pointed in Jim’s direction, but the expression on her face was one of anger and horror. She’s not liking what Harries just did. Maybe I was right from the very beginning: she is genuinely attracted to Jim.

“That’s good.” Harries beamed. He now grabbed Jim’s left arm and pulled him to his feet, shoved him ahead down the stairs. “Time for a little chat.”

“I don't think you have time for conversation,” Artie snarled. Jim had his head down and Artie could not see his face, but he wondered if Jim was truly staggered by the blow he had received, or was acting, hoping for a chance to catch Harries off guard. “You don’t seem to realize just how angry those miners are. They aren’t going to let you ride out of here, let alone take their money with you.”

“Like I said before, that’s up to you, Gordon. West is coming with us. We’ll let him go once we feel we are safe. The condition he’s in at the time will depend on you as well. I’m not going to treat that wound, and I’ll do all that’s necessary to keep it open and bleeding. Looks like he’s lost a lot of blood already.”

Jim lifted his head now. “Don’t pay any attention to him, Artie. I’m fine.”

Sarah had come around to the bottom of the stairs to join Harries, her face still taut. “Rad, I think we’d better just get the hell out of here.”

“Not without that money!” Harries snapped back. “We worked too hard for it. Years of planning! I’m not giving it up now!”

“You’re going to have to find it first,” Jim grated. His shoulder was throbbing, the warm blood streaming inside his shirt and down his arm.

“You’ll tell me,” Harries said confidently. “Or Gordon will. I’m pretty sure that by now you’ve shared the information with your partner. He’s not going to stand by and watch you die, drop by drop.”

“No,” Jim said firmly. “I am the only one with the information. If I die, the location dies with me.” He gazed at Harries, saw the flash of indecision in his eyes. “Give it up. Like my partner says, you can’t get out of here. You need us to get you safely away from the miners.”

“You’re got it backwards, West,” Harries smirked. “You’re the one who needs to worry about getting safely away. I’m not leaving without that money. One of you is going to tell me where it is… and maybe go get it.”

“I think we’ve got a standoff,” Artie said mildly, far more mildly than he felt, watching his partner, bleeding and in pain. “You can’t kill either one of us without ruining your chances of getting that money. If you kill me, you’ll have nothing to hold over Jim, and vice-versa.” All right, Jer, it’s getting close to time for a move.

Once again Harries acted without warning, striking Jim in the shoulder with the pistol he held. As Jim gasped in pain and bent over, Harries quickly brought his gun back to bear on Artie, who took a step forward, then paused.

“How much are you going to take, Gordon? How much can your partner take? Go get that money now. The sooner we’re on our way, the sooner you can have West back to treat his wound.”

Artie was watching Sarah. Again, she appeared to be appalled by Harries brutality. He decided to try another stall. “Why did you kill Sheriff Leale?”

“The fool knew too much. Knew more than he realized he did, I think. He came into my office and asked me if I had been the one to recommend sending for Pike, and I think he remembered that indeed that was the fact of the matter. He tried to cover it, but I knew that as soon as he was able to tell you two, the jig, as the saying goes, would be up. So he had to be quieted. Simple as that.”

“It was a good plan,” Artie nodded. “I suspect the flaw was that you waited too long. You should have been long gone before my partner and I arrived.”

Harries shot an angry glance toward the woman. “It was her idea to stick around. She said if we ran we’d be suspected and caught right away. I never should have listened.”

Her eyes went cold. “I told you I’d leave you your half.”

Jim had seized the back of a chair for support after the last blow, and even though the agony had decreased, he continued to hold onto the chair as though he needed the support. He kept his head down but not so far that he could not gaze around the room. Several times he checked the front door and the windows, seeing no movement. He knew his partner would not have come in without some backup. Was Pike…?

Even as the thought moved through his mind, Jim glanced at Harries and beyond, and saw the movement in the shadows beyond the top of the stairs. The only way anyone could have gained the second floor would have been through a window. Jim looked back toward Artie, but saw nothing on his partner’s face to indicate he had also noticed the shadowy movement. Of course, Artemus, like himself, was trained to not reveal anything.

Harries and Sarah Peregrine were still bickering about faultfinding and blaming. Jim carefully shifted his weight, moving slightly but still holding onto the back of the chair. For one instant he caught Artie’s eye, and knew then that they were both having the same thoughts. Not unusual. Jim almost smiled, despite the situation and the pain he was experiencing.

With Harries gun still pointed at Jim’s head, Jeremy has to be careful. At least Sarah had lowered her shotgun and was holding it loosely. Artie casually folded his arms across his chest and took half a step toward the table where he had placed the rifle. Harries was watching Jim while arguing with Sarah, not paying quite as much attention to Artie, nor his surroundings. Artemus had seen someone upstairs, and assumed it would be Pike. Jeremy would appraise the situation swiftly and comprehend the difficulties. Problem might come from any of the miners he had stationed outside, men who might become impatient.

As Artie surreptitiously looked beyond Harries at the bottom of the staircase, Jeremy Pike poked his head around the corner and then a hand, with which he gave a couple of signals. Artie quickly glanced at Jim, and knew that his partner had seen as well. Pike was telling them he was going to act in fifteen seconds… and they needed to be ready.

Jim gripped the chair more firmly as he counted within his head. He knew he was in the most danger. At any sign of interference, Harries might just pull the trigger and at this close range, he could not miss. Even if Jeremy shot from his position, both Jim and Artemus were in the line of fire. Jim did not try to catch any sign of men at any of the windows, lest he call attention to the activities occurring.

He did not wait for “fifteen,” but acted an instant before, suddenly dropping to one knee while twisting and rolling the chair toward Harries. Artemus moved at almost the same moment, hurling himself to the floor behind the table, seizing his rifle with the same movement.

As expected, Harries fired toward where Jim had been, missing widely because he had to avoid the chair, and almost simultaneously, Jeremy shouted from behind him, “Put down your weapons! You’re surrounded and outnumbered, Harries!”

Sarah immediately put her weapon on the floor. Harries was slower, his face a mask of rage. Jim had scooted over behind another table. “Drop it, Harries. It’s over.”

“You might as well, Rad,” Sarah said smoothly. “Live to fight another day.”

The banker let the gun fall from his hand as the miners poured in through the door then, along with Forbes and Ogden. Artie immediately saw the anger on the men’s faces, but before he had to say anything, Nick Fotopoulos stepped forward.

“Men!” he thundered, “we’re going to let the law handle this now!”

“Long as we get our money back,” another man called.

“You will,” Jim said, climbing to his feet.

“Jim,” Artemus stepped toward his partner, “we’d better get your wound taken care of.”

Jim shook his head. “I want to reassure these men.”

They all went outside then, with Harries under close guard, and Sarah Peregrine between two miners who did not grasp her arms but watched her. She seemed oddly serene, Artie thought. Almost as if she’s glad this is over, regardless of how it ended.

Jim West could not help but grin as he saw the expression on Radcliff Harries’ face when he directed Artie toward the correct plank on the bank’s front porch. Artemus lifted the loose board, reached in, and pulled out the fan canvas sack as the miners cheered. Once they saw their money, they calmed down quite a bit and were quite accepting of the agents’ plan to put it back in the safe.

“I know the combination now,” Jim cracked.

A few of the miners made a quick repair on the charred roof of the jail when the captured gang members were placed inside. Harries was also locked in the jail cells, but dealing with the woman was a slightly different matter. It was finally decided that she would be put in her own room—after a thorough search for weapons was conducted—and Molly and two other women volunteered to take turns watching her.

Sarah offered to look at Jim’s shoulder. “I’m the closest thing to a doctor around here,” she pointed out. “I did a good job on your arm, didn’t I, Artemus?”

Artemus did not miss the way Sarah’s eyes lingered on Jim West’s finely sculpted chest and shoulders as she tended to the wound. He saw regret deep in those eyes too. “I suppose I’m going to hang,” she sighed as she carefully tied the bandage.

Jim glanced up. “Depends on how deep your involvement was, Sarah.”

“Pretty deep. I planned the whole thing, you know. It seemed… so easy. Especially when Rad was able to bring Pike in on it and set up the frame.”

“It didn’t bother you that you were taking the money the men worked so hard for?” Artie asked.

She just shrugged. “I’ve had… things… stolen from me. Seemed like just retribution. I didn’t like the killing. I didn’t know Rad intended to kill Byerly. Rad said that Byerly was too unstable, not to be trusted. Then the sheriff…”

“And you planned to kill me,” Jeremy Pike said, entering the kitchen of the saloon where they were located.

Her smile was wry. “Looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?” Again her gaze rested wistfully on Jim.

“What about the Noyes pair?” Artemus asked. “How are they involved?”

“They want money,” Sarah shrugged. “Their involvement was mainly just acting as reputable witnesses.”

“We’ll pick them up.” Jim got to his feet, reaching for his bloodstained shirt. “I wish I could promise to help you, Sarah, but I’m afraid once the testimony is heard…”

“I know, I know. Ah, the twists and turns of life. If only we could see just a little ways into the future, we might take different paths.”

W*W*W*W*W

An irate Ken Noyes and sobbing Thyra Noyes were brought into town, Ken placed with the other men in the jail, his sister-in-law with Sarah. A number of the miners volunteered to help transport the numerous prisoners when they left Silver Hill; the agents gladly accepted the offer. Particularly with no lawman here, they preferred to take all the culprits with them to the next larger town.

After Sarah gave them directions, Artemus and Jeremy and a few of the miners rode up to the cave where Jeremy had been held prisoner. They did not expect to find anyone, and their expectations were met. The place was deserted.

The Fotopoulos family made all three agents promise to return as soon as possible for a “real visit.” Nick had not been able to spend as much time as he would have wished with his old friend Jeremy and, he insisted, the children wanted to see “Uncle Artemus” again. He promised that his wife would prepare a feast they would never forget.

Once back at the train and the prisoners turned over to a U.S. marshal to be further transported to Denver, long messages were sent east to inform the colonel and others of the denouement of the situation. Needless to say, the responses were happy ones, full of congratulations to all involved.

“Too bad about Sarah Peregrine,” Jeremy commented as the train sped east and they were taking a break from writing the arduously long report that the situation entailed. “Somewhere along the way, she got off on the wrong foot.”

Jim shook his head. “I really messed things up there.”

Artemus and Jeremy exchanged glanced. “What do you mean?” Artie inquired.

“I trusted her too much in the beginning. I never should have revealed Jer’s identity to her.”

“Don’t forget,” Artie pointed out, “that even when you started voicing doubts, I was the one who thought you were wrong.”

“And then,” Jim sighed, “I should never have dashed into the Red Bird like I did. I should have waited for you guys.”

Now both his friends laughed out loud, and when Jim looked at them, frowning, Artie just shook his head. “Jim, if I had a dollar for every time you acted rashly, I could retire a wealthy man. That’s just your nature. I don’t expect you’ll ever change.”

“And things worked out,” Jeremy added. “If you had not done that when you did, they might have slipped out the back and gotten away before we noticed.”

Jim just shook his head slightly. “I wonder if Harries would have left without the money. He was far more obsessed about it than Sarah.”

“In any case, they are safely locked up. We won’t have to deal with them until the trial comes up.” Artemus got to his feet. “Anyone hungry? Molly gave me her fried chicken recipe and I’m anxious to try it.”

“Wake me when it’s ready,” Jim said, shifting his position on the sofa to stretch out, his head on the arm. He had refused to wear a sling, but Artie noticed how his partner favored that shoulder as he moved.

“I’ll help you,” Jeremy said. “My mother always said I was the fastest potato peeler she ever saw.”

Jim West closed his eyes as his fellow agents departed for the galley. In his mind’s eye he saw the smiling, pretty face of Sarah Peregrine. The twists and turns of life’s paths indeed.

The End