Post by qohart on Feb 14, 2009 20:51:21 GMT -8
Once again I have to thank Pet and Apple for their immense help in getting this story to the finish line.
And again, the usual disclaimer, I don’t own any of them I just love them.
The Night of Christmas Surprises
by Cris Hart
It was Christmas Eve and the snow was blowing in stinging swirls. James West, Secret Service Agent for the United States Government, rode on toward his private train. His coat collar was pulled up, his hat pulled low, bracing against the constant pelting of the heavily falling snow. He had taken care of the last bit of business with the police in New Haven, made arrangements for federal troops to transport the prisoner and lastly, picked up a wire at the telegraph office. Jim thought back to the message from his partner, Artemus Gordon, and drew a small measure of comfort from it.
'Waiting for you in Hartford <stop> Surprise awaits you <stop> Merry Christmas and safe journey <stop> Artemus <full stop>'
Christmas. The very thought of Christmas brought Jim feelings of warmth, the warmth of a roaring fire, the warmth of a good meal that Artie had surely spent hours of care over, and the warmth of good friendship. He let these thoughts run freely, wrapping himself in their comfort and, briefly, even felt physically warmer. Then a gust of wind swirled snow into his eyes, stung his cheeks, and surprised him by nearly snatching his hat. Only Jim's quick reflexes allowed his hand to fly fast enough to catch the chapeau and keep it securely on his head.
And Artie mentioned a surprise, he suddenly remembered. That was the one thing Jim was not sure about. He was not one for surprises to begin with, and he was not sure at all, that a surprise was what he wanted when this night finally ended. Another bitter gust found it's way down his collar tingling with icy flakes around his neck and sending frozen fingers down his spine. Jim shivered, pulled his coat collar tighter and spurred his stallion on. It had better be one hell of a good surprise, Artie, Jim thought, silently trying to send that mental message to his partner.
Leaning over Superstar's neck and stroking the silky hide, Jim tried to make himself heard over the howling of the wind, "Double oats if you double the pace," he promised as his steed struggled through the deepening snow.
Jim was anxious to get out of the cold. The whipping of the wind was making visibility nearly impossible. Briefly, Jim considered his options and determined there was only one open to him. No way could he stop for the night in this blizzard. And he wasn’t sure digging a snow cave would afford enough protection for him to survive. He had to press on. He knew he was closer to the train than to town, he just hoped to make it there before mother nature decided to freeze him solid.
Jim thought again about Artie's mentioned surprise. It would take something special to surprise him, and, as he thought more about what it could be, he began to look forward to discovering what his partner had come up with. And Jim had a surprise for Artie as well. He'd found a first edition of the complete works of William Shakespeare, which had cost dearly, but he knew his friend would be overjoyed with the gift, and Jim felt the price well worth it. He’d had it wrapped in a bright red foil paper, which now sat securely in his saddlebag. Jim was more determined than ever to make it back to the train. He reined in his horse and looked around trying to discern if he was still on the right course. Spotting a distant landmark, he determined he was. Another hour, he hoped, would bring him home.
Artemus had taken the train to meet with Col. Richmond, file their report and deliver the currency plates that had been stolen by Edward Morris from the Connecticut mint. Morris had used them to spread counterfeit money throughout the state. He'd led them a merry chase, skipping from town to town eluding the agents by mere hours at times. The snow had, for once, worked in their favor. Morris had holed up to wait out the storm and Jim and Artie had finally caught up to him and arrested him.
Now the train sat in the Hartford train yard, the smoke stack puffing out steady clouds of steam like a heartbeat and a second storm was raging.
Artie looked out the window for the hundredth time. It was snowing harder than ever and the wind was whipping it into a froth. Visibility was almost zero. He'd not had a response to his wire to Jim in New Haven, and when he'd tried an hour ago, he'd found the lines dead. If everything had gone to plan, Jim's return trip should have taken him 2 1/2 hours. Factor in the weather, maybe double that time, Artie thought to himself. If Jim left at 2:00 as planned, Artie glanced at the clock and swore under his breath. It was nearly 8:00 and he was worried.
Artemus had decided to hang lanterns across the back of the train in multiple colors, blue, red, green and a bright white one in the center over the door. A dual purpose, he told himself. A bit of holiday decoration and, more importantly, a clearer beacon for Jim to follow in the storm.
"Artemus, come away from the window," Suzanna Todd begged.
Suzanna was a friend of Jim's and Artie had arranged for her to join them for Christmas Eve dinner. She sat on the sofa next to Marcella Neal, Artie's date for the evening.
"I'm sorry, ladies," Artie apologized, "The weather is so bad out there, I'm just a little concerned about Jim," he explained, casting one more sideways glance out the window..
"Can you see anything out there?" Suzanna asked him, a hint of testiness in her voice.
"Not a thing. The wind is whipping that snow around like a cyclone," his frustration sounding clearly in his tone. If he noticed Suzanna's testiness, he did not react to it.
"Then please stop looking," Suzanna answered also sounding frustrated, "I'm sure Jim's fine. He'll probably be here any minute and you'll see you worried for nothing," she tried to soothe. She truthfully, was worried and the fact that Artemus was as well, unnerved her.
"The goose smells wonderful, Artemus. Are you sure it's alright?" Marcella asked trying to distract him, throwing Suzanna a placating look.
"I'm sure it's fine, but I'll check it anyway," he answered stealing a glance out the window as he headed for the galley.
When he left the room, Marcella said quietly to Suzanna, "I hope Jim gets here soon also. But try not to snap at Artemus, Suzanna, he's just concerned."
"I concerned too. I mean, I'm sure Jim's alright, but Artemus is driving me to distraction checking outside every few minutes," Suzanna lamented. "We've got to take his mind off the weather even if it’s for just a little while."
"I'll ask him to play something for us,” Marcella offered. “Shh, here he comes," she said, turning as Artie entered. "How is it?" she asked smiling.
"Should be done soon. The bread is ready, and so are the asparagus," Artie answered forcing a smile.
"I can hardly wait," Suzanna told him taking in the delicious aromas.
"Why don't you play some Christmas music for us," Marcella suggested gaily.
"Uh," Artie hesitated glancing at the window.
"Please do, Artemus," Suzanna implored.
"Alright," Artemus agreed with a smile and a nod. He took a deep calming breath, took out his violin, "What shall I play?"
"In Dulci Jubilo," Marcella suggested smiling with anticipation.
"Good choice," Suzanna agreed clapping softly.
"Alright," Artemus replied again and tucked his instrument under his chin and played a moving rendition on the old favorite.
The women applauded enthusiastically when he finished and, seeing that Artie was more relaxed, quickly asked for another.
Jim was about to admit he'd missed a turn when in the distance he saw a faint colorful glow of red, blue, green, and a brighter white. Thank goodness, he sighed. Good old Artie. Ingenious way to decorate using colored lanterns and a darn good beacon to boot. Jim pressed his knees into his horse's flanks urging him on, the end of his long journey in sight. As he drew nearer, he heard the sweet tones that only Artie could draw from his violin.
Jim rode to the stable car and lowered the ramp. The snow and sounds of the storm muffled his entrance. He led his exhausted stallion into his stall and removed the saddle with half frozen fingers. Using the saddle blanket, he rubbed down his horse then curried him swiftly. Finally, he gave the tired animal a ration of oats, double as promised. He patted his faithful companion lovingly on the neck, took his saddlebag and went into the next car. The music was sweet and comforting as he stowed his gear in his room and moved silently to the living room just as Artemus finished playing "Greensleeves."
Jim saw Suzanna and Marcella seated on one of the sofas applauding his partner's performance and smiled. Suzanna Todd. This was a nice surprise. Jim joined in the applause from the doorway, globs of snow dropping from his caked top coat.
"Jim!" Artemus turned, set the violin aside and greeted his friend warmly with a hand on his shoulder as he shook hands with the other. "Boy, I'm glad to see you. Here, get out of that coat. You must be half frozen," Artie said taking Jim's coat and hat from him and hanging them on the coat rack.
"Glad to be back," Jim answered sincerely. "Marcella," he nodded, "and Suzanna," he leaned down to kiss her softly. With a shiver, he went to stand by the fireplace to warm himself. He looked around the comfortable room. It was brightly lit with every lamp glowing and the dinner table was set with their best linens, china and crystal. Artie had set up a small tree and decorated it with red ribbons and white paper snowflakes. Jim smiled warmly at Suzanna. "I’m so glad you came" he said motioning her over with a tilt of his head.
"I glad I came too," Suzanna answered going to him and giving him an affectionate hug and a warm kiss.
"Thank heavens you're here, Jim," Marcella told him. She stood next to Artie and hooked her arm in his. "Artemus was paying more attention to the weather and worrying about you than he was to being even a bad host. He sailed past 'bad host' at least an hour ago," she teased planting a kiss on Artie's cheek.
Artemus looked shamefaced. "I suppose I was. I'm sorry, ladies." Then he grinned at Jim and told him again, "Glad you're home safe."
Jim grinned at his worrisome friend. "What smells so good," he asked, "I'm starved."
"Roast goose with everything," Suzanna informed him. She turned to Artemus, "Do we have time for the presents first or should we eat first?"
"Why don't we give you our presents before dinner," he suggested and went to the small tree and picked up two small gifts. He read the tags and handed Jim the one addressed to Suzanna.
"I don't remember getting her anything," Jim muttered sotto voce, leaning close.
"You didn't, but don't worry," Artie muttered back, "She'll be thrilled."
Jim smiled a thank you and brought the gift to Suzanna who was back on the sofa next to Marcella.
She opened the offered gift, laying aside the satiny white ribbon. Inside the silvered paper was a small crystal jewel box inlaid with mother of pearl.
"Oh, Jim!" Suzanna exclaimed, "It's perfect! How beautiful!" She went to Jim, looped her arms behind his neck and gave him a passionate kiss, withdrawing rather reluctantly. With a sigh, she turned and showed the jewel box to Marcella who admired its beauty as well.
Then Artie handed Marcella her gift. She opened it expectantly, pulling the gold ribbon off and folding back the bright blue foil paper. It was a small mahogany music box. She opened it and let it play a little of the tinkling ‘Carol of the Bells’ while a tiny skater spun a circle on a mirrored lake.
"Artemus, how lovely! You remembered my fondness for music boxes. Thank you!" and rewarded him with a passionate kiss of her own on his lips.
"You are very welcome," he murmured, returning her kiss. With a sigh that matched Suzanna's he pulled back and asked, "Now who's ready to eat? I have to get that bird out of the oven before it's not fit for man nor beast," he beamed. "Give me a hand, Jim?"
"Excuse us ladies," Jim said and followed Artie into the galley. "So you were worried," Jim teased handing a towel to his partner.
"Not really," Artemus lied, using the towel to protect his hand as he removed the goose from the oven, then added, "Well, maybe just a little."
"How sweet," Jim continued to tease, grinning at him with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Make yourself useful, will you?" Artemus growled nodding toward a fresh loaf of bread that needed slicing. He flashed a grin back at Jim.
Together they set everything on serving platters and carried it in to the table. The ladies came to stand behind their chairs, as Artie filled the crystal glasses with wine. Jim passed the glasses around then held his up.
"To good friends, good company, and good food," he toasted.
"Here, here," Artie cheered.
They clinked their glasses and took a sip of the wine.
"And a Merry Christmas," Suzanna added.
"Here, here," Marcella agreed, and they clinked glasses again.
The gentlemen held the chairs for their ladies and all four enjoyed the wonderful meal. Full and satisfied, they retired to the sofas, Jim and Suzanna on one, Artie and Marcella facing them on the other.
"Do you two exchange gifts?" Marcella asked, curios.
"As a matter of fact, we do," Artie replied going to the tree and bringing a gold wrapped box to Jim. "Merry Christmas, James," he smiled handing Jim the present.
"Thank you, Artie," Jim said and pulled the ribbon off the box. Inside was a dark oak, intricately carved, box. Jim lifted the lid and found a set of antique dueling pistols in pristine condition. Now this was a surprise. "Artie! These are the pistols I admired in San Francisco 6 months ago!" he exclaimed flabbergasted. He'd wanted to buy them but thought the price extravagant and passed them up. "When did you get these?" he asked his friend lifting one of the pistols carefully and admiring it.
"Six months ago, when we were in San Francisco," Artie admitted pleased that Jim liked the gift.
"You've had these all this time? How did you get them? We left the same day we saw them in that shop," Jim asked turning the pistol and eyeing down the sight.
"When I went to Col. Richmond's train to file our report. I had him keep them for me until yesterday," Artie explained and took his seat next to Marcella. He draped his arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her closer. She snuggled contentedly against him.
"Thank you, Artie," Jim beamed. He set the box on the coffee table and rose. "I have a little something for you too," he said and went down the corridor, returning a moment later with the red foil wrapped gift.
"Why thank you James," Artemus said releasing his hold on Marcella and leaning forward to accept his gift. He opened it and froze, his face suddenly sober. Gently he picked up the priceless tome. "Jim," he breathed, "This is a first edition!" he exclaimed opening the leather bound book lovingly. He turned the pages with a delicate touch, clearly overwhelmed. Then he rose and faced his partner and friend. Jim offered his hand in friendship. "Thank you. I don't have words to tell you how much I appreciate this. Thank you," Artie repeated, his voice taut with emotion.
Jim smiled at him. "So you like it, then?" he teased, trying to lighten the moment.
"Of course!" Artie's beaming smile spoke volumes.
"Christmas carols!" the ladies exclaimed together. They had tears in their eyes, moved by the men's obvious, close friendship.
The ladies took turns singing to carols played by Artemus. The men sang a few with their dates and after a while, Artie put his instrument away declaring he was too full to sing or play anymore.
"Suzanna and I will clean up and get coffee, if you let us, while you two relax," Marcella offered brightly.
"I'll let you," Artie assured her, settling comfortably in a chair with his book. He began to read as the ladies cleared the table. When they were in the galley, he paused and asked casually, "Any trouble in New Haven?"
"Nope. Morris is in the jail awaiting federal guards," Jim told him examining more closely the dueling pistols.
"Good. How was your trip back?"
"To be honest, miserable. I would have missed the train completely if you hadn't hung the lanterns. I followed the light through the snow. By the way, what do I owe you for Suzanna's gift?"
"Twelve dollars," Artie answered casually. "You know we're never going to get them home tonight?" he added with a sly smile.
"You couldn't have planned it better," Jim winked.
"I wish I could take credit, but had nothing to do with it. The Man upstairs took care of that," Artie pointed upward.
"Well it is His birthday," Jim reasoned.
"So why is He giving us the good gifts?" Artie countered.
"He is an all loving, and giving God," Jim grinned eyes twinkling.
"Amen to that, brother," Artie agreed wholeheartedly. Then he suddenly rose, "I forgot to give you a wire," he said plucking a sheet of paper from the desk and handing it to Jim.
"Who's this from?" Jim asked curious.
"Read it and find out," Artie answered, "I'm not your secretary," he teased returning to his book.
Jim knew Artie knew who it was from since he'd taken the message. He unfolded the sheet and read a Merry Christmas wire from his parents and brother. They asked when they would see him.
"Did you answer this?" Jim asked.
"I did not," Artemus stated flatly, "That's for you to do. But the line's dead right now so you'll have to wait," he informed his friend. Then curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "So when will you see them?"
"I don't know. Did Col. Richmond mention another assignment?" Jim asked.
"No, in fact he said we'd probably be able to enjoy the New Year as well. Why don't you plan to visit your family since you have a week off?" Artie coaxed. "You haven't seen them in over a year."
Jim thought about it, then answered, "I think I will. What about you? You haven't seen your mother in over a year either," Jim asked.
"She's not home. She's visiting a friend in Italy," Artie answered a little sadly. "She had a friend send me a wire earlier."
"Then why don't you join me? It'll be a nice visit and if we do get an assignment you'll be close by," Jim suggested.
"Pass," Artie replied firmly, turning another page in his book.
"Why? Give me one good reason why you won't," Jim asked.
"I'll give you two. One, I wouldn't want to impose. And two, it would be impolite to invite me without asking your family first. They want to visit with you and may not appreciate a stranger around," Artie reasoned, continuing to read.
"What stranger? You've met my family before," Jim replied.
"Still, I think I'll pass," Artie made every effort to close the subject by burying himself in the tome.
Jim quickly snatched the book from Artie's hand and closed it.
"Hey!" Artie cried grabbing for the book, but Jim held it up out of his reach.
"Tell me the truth," Jim stated firmly, "You're not worried about being an imposition and you know my family would welcome you anytime. Why won't you come with me?"
"Your father didn't exactly like me, as I recall. Something about actors being worthless charlatans, I think he said. I wouldn't want to ruin his holidays, which my presence would if he doesn't want me around," Artie answered standing and reaching for the book again.
"I want you around," Jim stated sincerely, placing the book on the desk behind him then perching on the desk to block any attempt at retrieval. Then before Artie could protest, he said, "I'll ask them, I promise, but you'll see. They'll agree."
"If they agree, all of them," he stressed, "then I accept your offer. But if anyone has any objection, I won't impose. Agreed?" he proposed.
"Agreed," Jim concurred.
"Merry Christmas, Jim."
"Merry Christmas, Artie."
"Can I have my book back?"
Jim grinned and handed it over.
Suzanna and Marcella did not object to having to spend the night on the train, and were escorted home the next morning. With a memorable kiss for each man, the ladies were left with their Christmas Day to spend with their own families.
The two agents returned to the train and soon left for Jim's family's home in Oley, under clear skies, cold air, and deep snow. They traveled each to his own devices, Artie reading his favorite plays, Othello, Hamlet, and King Lear first, then starting at the beginning to read the rest.
Jim polished his new prized possessions and found an appropriate place to display them in the living room over the fireplace. As he polished them and examined the pistols more closely, he found them still in working order and was amazed. Artie was careful with money, and Jim knew these had set him back a pretty penny. He remembered thinking a month's salary was too much to spend for something he wanted for the mere pleasure of owning such masterpieces. Artie's extravagance was truly appreciated.
Artie closed his book and rubbed his eyes.
"Tired?" Jim asked.
"No. It's just more difficult reading these in the old English," Artie answered. "Hey, those look great there," he said admiring Jim's placement of the pistols.
"You know they're still in working condition. What a treasure," Jim said proudly. "How about a hand or two of poker?"
"Fine, set it up. I'll get my money," Artie headed down the corridor to his room.
When he returned he asked, "Did you contact your family?"
"No the line was still dead. I'll try now," Jim admitted, going to the desk. The wireless was working and he sent a wire wishing his family a Merry Christmas and telling them he was planning a few days visit and asked about bringing a guest.
"You better tell them who, you rascal," Artie said obviously listening to what Jim was tapping out.
"Alright, alright," Jim agreed and added who the guest was. Then he snapped the box closed. "We should have an answer in an hour or so, I should think," he said sitting as Artie dealt out the cards.
Close to two hours later the wireless clicked and Jim replied he was ready for the message.
'Looking forward to your visit with love. Frank and Amanda too. Children excited to see their Uncle James again. Father in accordance. Much love. Mother'
Jim turned to his partner, "Did you get that?" he asked with a smile.
"I certainly did. Have a nice visit," Artie answered casually.
"What? Did you hear something I didn't?" Jim asked aware that Artie was declining his offer to join him on his visit.
"Well, let's see. 'Father in accordance.' That doesn't sound like he's pleased. Sounds more like your mother is forcing him to agree. Probably threatened to deny him food and water," Artie joked.
"Artie, really," Jim moaned feigning disappointment in his friend's attitude. In reality he thought Artie might be right, that his father was probably agreeing for his mother's sake only.
"I'm sorry, Jim. That was uncalled for," Artie apologized for his remark, "But I really don't want to argue with your father or have to defend myself to him. He's a formidable force, you know."
"Believe me, I know. I grew up with him, remember?" Jim agreed. His father was a stubborn, opinionated man. Jim had learned to sidestep his father's love of a good argument, but Artie had been s*cked in every time on his first meeting with the man. "Come anyway," Jim urged.
"He has a low opinion of anyone who's connected in any way to the theater. He thinks I'm not trustworthy and doesn't like me being your partner," Artie argued.
Jim burst out laughing. "He does not!" he exclaimed.
"Oh yeah? So what did he mean by that crack about all actors being 'simpletons who don't know what a real day's work is'?" Artie quoted, "And 'how can an actor, a pretender by trade, be trusted'?" he continued, "Or, my favorite, 'how can our government permit such a weakling to be partnered with a highly decorated and respected war hero'?" Artie concluded raising his eyebrows in question.
"He didn't say that," Jim said still laughing. When he saw Artie's eyebrows raised, an unreadable expression on his face, he stopped laughing and asked seriously, "He said that to you?"
"Yes he did, and I don't want to hear it again," and Artie dealt another hand of poker with finality.
Jim sat across from him and picked up his cards. "But you'll come anyway, right?" he asked innocently.
Artie threw himself back in his chair exasperated. He looked Jim straight in the eye. He saw Jim meant his offer sincerely. He opened his mouth to protest and closed it again.
"Please," Jim did not ask in this manner often, and Artie felt his resolve melting.
"Fine, fine, fine," he finally relented, "But one insult aimed in my direction and I'll leave you there so fast it will make your head spin," he promised pointing a finger at Jim.
"Frank's kids loved you. Especially Ailene," Jim reminded Artie with a winning grin.
On their last visit, Jim's nephew, Jimmy had been awed by his Uncle James, following him everywhere, asking questions and listening raptly to stories of their cases. The young boy had peppered Artemus with questions about his uncle, until his Uncle James had clearly become his hero.
Little Ailene had been enthralled with Artie who told her stories, using different voices for different characters and even acting out some of the parts. She had been tender with him, sitting in his lap, planting butterfly kisses on his eyes and holding his hand whenever she could.
Jim and Artie had played outside with the children for hours on end like they were children themselves, playing Hide and Seek, and All the All the Oxen Freeze. Ailene had gotten Artie to try and skip rope, but he was not very good at it. Jimmy especially enjoyed playing secret agent with them. They had devised simple 'cases' for them to solve, Jimmy partnered with Jim, who guided them through the the art of when to fight an enemy while Artie taught them to think through problems to find a solution. Like his Uncle Jim, Jimmy was talented at the more physical aspects while Ailene excelled at out thinking her brother. Jimmy and Ailene would now be 11 and 9 respectively.
"I agreed to come, you don't have to sweeten the pot," Artie replied good naturedly, "except this one,” he tapped the table, “Bet, will you?"
Jim smiled, placed his bet and won the hand. Artie threw down his cards in frustration. "That's it, I'm finished," he stated sourly. "We're going to be there late tomorrow afternoon, don't you think you should acknowledge their wire?"
"No. Let's surprise them," Jim smiled. He was looking forward to seeing his family again but was sorry Artie would not see his mother, again, this year. He knew his friend worried about her being alone, but took comfort in the knowledge she had a wide circle of friends here and abroad. Still, she was not a young woman anymore and the loss of her sister, who had been living with her, had affected her deeply.
Late the next afternoon, the train pulled into the Reading Station. From there, it was an hour's ride on horseback into the Oley Valley. Early in the evening, the two agents rode up to the neat two story home where Jim had grown up. They went through the gate and barely stepped onto the porch when the door flew open and Jim's mother threw herself into his arms.
"Jimmy, oh, Jimmy, what a surprise!" she cried hugging him fiercely, "We didn't know when to expect you!"
Jim hugged her tightly, "We wanted to surprise you. Mom, you look great," he said kissing her cheek.
"Let me look at you," Maggie West held her younger son at arm's length admiringly. "Still the most handsome boy I ever saw," she said. Then she turned to Artie. "And dear, Artemus," she said and hugged him affectionately. He hugged her with one arm. "You look well," she said stepping back and eyeing him up and down.
"Thank you. You look lovely as ever, Mrs. West," he smiled turning on the charm.
Jim's father appeared in the doorway, "Son, you look fit and well," he said shaking hands with Jim. He was not always a demonstrative man, but was clearly glad to see Jim looking at him with obvious pride.
"Dad," Jim replied, haking his father's hand, "You look good too."
"I'm well enough for a man my age," Robert West replied. "Well let's not stand out here on the porch. It's cold. Come in," he stood aside for his wife and Jim to enter. He gave Artie a half sour smile, "Gordon, good to see you again," he said with a slight nod.
"Good to see you too, sir. I hope you've been well," Artie answered conversationally.
"Just said I was, didn't I?" Mr. West remarked and entered before Artemus. Artie lifted his eyes to the sky, said a silent prayer and followed him in.
Frank and Amanda and the children were milling around Jim, hugging, shaking hands, and exchanging excited greetings and news. Amanda was first to see Artie and greeted him warmly.
"We're so glad you could join us, Artemus," she told him. "Ailene has been looking forward to this since Jim's wire came."
"I drew you a picture," Ailene said climbing down from her uncle's arms and going to Artemus, "Do you want to see it?"
"I certainly do," Artie smiled pleasantly, leaning down and caressing her long blond curls.
"How are your mother and father, Artemus?" Mrs. West asked, "We saw then in a play years ago and so enjoyed their performance."
"Mother is fine. Dad died a few years ago, though," Artie answered.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Mrs. West said sympathetically. "I don't think I knew that. Please leave me your mother's address so I can express our condolences personally, albeit late," she asked.
"I will, thank you," Artie agreed with a nod.
"How has your mother been holding up, dear?" Mrs. West inquired with genuine concern.
"Alright. She's had her sister, my Aunt Mae, staying with her until last year," Artie told her.
"That's been a comfort for her, I'm sure," Mrs. West returned, "I'm sure she's glad for the company at this time of year."
"Mom, Artie's aunt died last year," Jim answered for his friend who was suddenly finding the pattern in the carpet of great interest.
"What kind of a man leaves his widowed old mother alone at the holidays?" Jim's father asked forcefully, fixing Artie with a narrowed gaze.
Artie shot a look at Jim who shrugged imperceptibly.
"I'd planned a visit, but mother is visiting friends abroad," Artie answered politely.
"Robert," Mrs. West warned her husband with a glare.
"Humph," Mr. West grunted and went to sit by the fireplace.
"He doesn't mean anything," Mrs. West told Artemus, patting his arm. "He's just turning into a curmudgeon."
"I heard that," Mr. West called over.
"Good," Mrs. West shot back at him. "You boys come in. We have a little something for each of you," she guided them to chairs. "Jimmy," she said.
"Yes," both uncle and nephew answered in unison.
Frank laughed. "Mom, don't you think you could call him Jim now? He isn't a little boy anymore," he said sitting with his wife on the sofa.
"He'll always be my little boy. You both will," she answered, "But I suppose it would make things simpler. But I meant little Jimmy. Get the gifts, please dear," she addressed her grandson.
Jimmy ran to the tree and came back with two gifts, which he handed to the agents.
"How did you have time to get anything?" Jim asked opening his first. It was a navy blue scarf hand made by his mother. He recognized her favorite pattern.
"I was going to send it along, but since you're here," she said smiling. "Do you like it? I knitted it for you."
Jim wrapped the scarf around his neck, "It's perfect, mom. Thank you."
"Yours is white," Jimmy said to Artemus.
"Jimmy! You're not supposed to tell what's in it before he opens it," Ailene said sternly to her impetuous brother.
"Oops. Sorry," Jimmy replied sheepishly.
"Just what I needed," Artemus said opening the gift and shaking out the folded scarf. "It will be just the thing to go with my black top coat when I go out to the theatre," he said, wrapping it around his throat "Thank you very much."
Mr. West snickered at him from his place by the fire.
"I'm afraid we didn't have the opportunity to shop, mom," Jim said drawing attention away from his father's mood.
"You're gift enough for us," she said and hugged him warmly.
They chatted, catching up on events in their lives since they were last together. Jimmy and Ailene sat on the floor cross legged listening to some of their escapades on some of their cases. Even Robert West seemed interested asking questions and making approving remarks when Artie told of Jim's part in defeating the criminals. A true story teller, and with a young, rapt audience, he left no details out. His telling had the desired effect as little Jimmy excitedly cheered his uncle throughout the story.
Jim and Frank went out onto the porch for a cigar and Jimmy and Mr. West tagged along. Artemus was cornered by Ailene who brought her drawing to him for his approval. She had drawn her uncle Jim, obviously defeating a criminal with a single punch. It was quite good for a nine year old and he told her so.
"But it doesn't look real," Ailene commented, "I can't get people to look like real people. See his arm looks too big," she pointed out.
"Let me show you how to make that better," Artemus offered. Ailene got paper and pencil for him and he showed her what perspective and proportion were and how to use them in her drawings. "You see?" he asked demonstrating by sketching out what she had depicted in her drawing.
"You draw good, Artemus," she said obviously impressed, "I can't do that."
"Of course you can. It just takes practice," he told her, "Try." He handed the paper and pencil to her.
Amanda and Maggie West stood over them looking down as Ailene drew Jim again. The resulting drawing was better than before. "See?" Artie told her, "That's better already," he complimented the child.
"Yeah, it is," she beamed admiring what she had produced. "Draw something else," she asked and gave him more paper.
"Alright. What shall I draw?" he asked her.
"Draw grandpa," Ailene suggested.
"Uh," Artie started, "Are you sure?" Evilly, he imagined drawing Robert West with devil horns and tail, but quickly pushed the image away.
"Sure, I'm sure. Draw grandpa sitting in his chair by the fireplace," Ailene said.
Artemus looked at the blank page a moment then at the chair placed by the fire. He began to sketch lines and curves that resembled nothing at first. The three females watched as he filled in areas with straight lines, curls, and shading until a few minutes later he'd drawn a very good likeness of Mr. West sitting in the chair by the fireplace. He added the lines and creases on the older man's face that brought the picture to life.
"That's him," Mrs. West breathed.
"That's amazing," Amanda added, "and so fast."
"Wow, wait til I show grandpa, Artemus. He'll like you when he sees this," Ailene blurted innocently.
"Ailene," Amanda and Mrs. West hissed in unison.
"I'm sorry," Ailene said immediately realizing what she'd said.
"Your grandfather likes Artemus," her mother admonished, "now apologize."
"I did, mama," Ailene answered, but apologized again, "I'm sorry Artemus. Did I hurt your feelings?" she asked her eyes welling at the thought of having hurt him.
"No, child," he tenderly caressed her cheek, than glancing up at the two women, he chuffed out a short laugh, "Out of the mouths of babes," he quoted poetically.
Just then the group from the porch came back in laughing at some shared joke. They stopped when they saw the serious looks on the faces of the ladies.
"What's happened," Frank asked cautiously.
"Nothing, dear," Amanda answered, "I'm going to help your mother in the kitchen," she said going to her husband and kissing him. "Keep the peace in here," she whispered in his ear before following her mother-in-law into the kitchen.
Frank looked at her quizzically. Mr. West looked over Artie's shoulder at the picture he'd drawn.
"You draw that?" he asked gruffly.
"Ailene asked me to," Artie answered quietly acknowledging.
Jim picked up the paper and he and Frank looked it over. "It's you, dad," Jim said smiling in admiration and amusement.
"I can see that," his father remarked. "Why'd you want him to draw me, for heavens sake," he asked Ailene more sternly than he intended.
"Artemus was showing me how to draw better and I just asked him to, grandpa,” Ailene answered in her best imitation of a stern tone. Seeing her grandfather looking chastised, she continued in a delighted tone, “He did it so fast, grandpa, you should have seen him. First he just made squiggly lines all over the page and next thing we knew he made them into you. Isn't it good?" she asked hopefully.
The old man looked at his granddaughter. He would rather cut out his tongue than say anything to hurt her, but could not bring himself to compliment Artemus either. He thought of him as an actor, and bought in to the rumors and inuendos that seemed to follow the profession. Robert West did not trust the man, and could barely tolerate that he worked with his son let alone have him in his house. "It's me alright," he settled on with a pat to his grandchild's head.
"Dad," Jim said quietly but with obvious disapproval. His father could be so unpleasant when he wanted to be. Jim was fully aware of his feelings about the acting profession and had been further enlightened on his opinion of his partner earlier.
"You have to admit, he's talented, dad," Frank added, embarrassed both for his father's attitude and his brother's voiced disapproval.
"I don't have to admit anything," Mr. West replied tersely. He picked up a newspaper and settled into his chair by the fireplace.
"Grandpa, why are you being so mean to Artemus?" Jimmy asked, picking up on the tension in the room, "I think his picture's real fine."
"Jimmy, don't speak to your grandfather that way," Frank admonished. He demanded his children remain respectful, no matter what.
Jimmy just looked defiant but said nothing else. Mr. West tussled the boy's hair, then stood and went into the kitchen.
"Artemus, I hope you don't take offense at dad," Frank said apologetically.
And again, the usual disclaimer, I don’t own any of them I just love them.
The Night of Christmas Surprises
by Cris Hart
It was Christmas Eve and the snow was blowing in stinging swirls. James West, Secret Service Agent for the United States Government, rode on toward his private train. His coat collar was pulled up, his hat pulled low, bracing against the constant pelting of the heavily falling snow. He had taken care of the last bit of business with the police in New Haven, made arrangements for federal troops to transport the prisoner and lastly, picked up a wire at the telegraph office. Jim thought back to the message from his partner, Artemus Gordon, and drew a small measure of comfort from it.
'Waiting for you in Hartford <stop> Surprise awaits you <stop> Merry Christmas and safe journey <stop> Artemus <full stop>'
Christmas. The very thought of Christmas brought Jim feelings of warmth, the warmth of a roaring fire, the warmth of a good meal that Artie had surely spent hours of care over, and the warmth of good friendship. He let these thoughts run freely, wrapping himself in their comfort and, briefly, even felt physically warmer. Then a gust of wind swirled snow into his eyes, stung his cheeks, and surprised him by nearly snatching his hat. Only Jim's quick reflexes allowed his hand to fly fast enough to catch the chapeau and keep it securely on his head.
And Artie mentioned a surprise, he suddenly remembered. That was the one thing Jim was not sure about. He was not one for surprises to begin with, and he was not sure at all, that a surprise was what he wanted when this night finally ended. Another bitter gust found it's way down his collar tingling with icy flakes around his neck and sending frozen fingers down his spine. Jim shivered, pulled his coat collar tighter and spurred his stallion on. It had better be one hell of a good surprise, Artie, Jim thought, silently trying to send that mental message to his partner.
Leaning over Superstar's neck and stroking the silky hide, Jim tried to make himself heard over the howling of the wind, "Double oats if you double the pace," he promised as his steed struggled through the deepening snow.
Jim was anxious to get out of the cold. The whipping of the wind was making visibility nearly impossible. Briefly, Jim considered his options and determined there was only one open to him. No way could he stop for the night in this blizzard. And he wasn’t sure digging a snow cave would afford enough protection for him to survive. He had to press on. He knew he was closer to the train than to town, he just hoped to make it there before mother nature decided to freeze him solid.
Jim thought again about Artie's mentioned surprise. It would take something special to surprise him, and, as he thought more about what it could be, he began to look forward to discovering what his partner had come up with. And Jim had a surprise for Artie as well. He'd found a first edition of the complete works of William Shakespeare, which had cost dearly, but he knew his friend would be overjoyed with the gift, and Jim felt the price well worth it. He’d had it wrapped in a bright red foil paper, which now sat securely in his saddlebag. Jim was more determined than ever to make it back to the train. He reined in his horse and looked around trying to discern if he was still on the right course. Spotting a distant landmark, he determined he was. Another hour, he hoped, would bring him home.
Artemus had taken the train to meet with Col. Richmond, file their report and deliver the currency plates that had been stolen by Edward Morris from the Connecticut mint. Morris had used them to spread counterfeit money throughout the state. He'd led them a merry chase, skipping from town to town eluding the agents by mere hours at times. The snow had, for once, worked in their favor. Morris had holed up to wait out the storm and Jim and Artie had finally caught up to him and arrested him.
Now the train sat in the Hartford train yard, the smoke stack puffing out steady clouds of steam like a heartbeat and a second storm was raging.
Artie looked out the window for the hundredth time. It was snowing harder than ever and the wind was whipping it into a froth. Visibility was almost zero. He'd not had a response to his wire to Jim in New Haven, and when he'd tried an hour ago, he'd found the lines dead. If everything had gone to plan, Jim's return trip should have taken him 2 1/2 hours. Factor in the weather, maybe double that time, Artie thought to himself. If Jim left at 2:00 as planned, Artie glanced at the clock and swore under his breath. It was nearly 8:00 and he was worried.
Artemus had decided to hang lanterns across the back of the train in multiple colors, blue, red, green and a bright white one in the center over the door. A dual purpose, he told himself. A bit of holiday decoration and, more importantly, a clearer beacon for Jim to follow in the storm.
"Artemus, come away from the window," Suzanna Todd begged.
Suzanna was a friend of Jim's and Artie had arranged for her to join them for Christmas Eve dinner. She sat on the sofa next to Marcella Neal, Artie's date for the evening.
"I'm sorry, ladies," Artie apologized, "The weather is so bad out there, I'm just a little concerned about Jim," he explained, casting one more sideways glance out the window..
"Can you see anything out there?" Suzanna asked him, a hint of testiness in her voice.
"Not a thing. The wind is whipping that snow around like a cyclone," his frustration sounding clearly in his tone. If he noticed Suzanna's testiness, he did not react to it.
"Then please stop looking," Suzanna answered also sounding frustrated, "I'm sure Jim's fine. He'll probably be here any minute and you'll see you worried for nothing," she tried to soothe. She truthfully, was worried and the fact that Artemus was as well, unnerved her.
"The goose smells wonderful, Artemus. Are you sure it's alright?" Marcella asked trying to distract him, throwing Suzanna a placating look.
"I'm sure it's fine, but I'll check it anyway," he answered stealing a glance out the window as he headed for the galley.
When he left the room, Marcella said quietly to Suzanna, "I hope Jim gets here soon also. But try not to snap at Artemus, Suzanna, he's just concerned."
"I concerned too. I mean, I'm sure Jim's alright, but Artemus is driving me to distraction checking outside every few minutes," Suzanna lamented. "We've got to take his mind off the weather even if it’s for just a little while."
"I'll ask him to play something for us,” Marcella offered. “Shh, here he comes," she said, turning as Artie entered. "How is it?" she asked smiling.
"Should be done soon. The bread is ready, and so are the asparagus," Artie answered forcing a smile.
"I can hardly wait," Suzanna told him taking in the delicious aromas.
"Why don't you play some Christmas music for us," Marcella suggested gaily.
"Uh," Artie hesitated glancing at the window.
"Please do, Artemus," Suzanna implored.
"Alright," Artemus agreed with a smile and a nod. He took a deep calming breath, took out his violin, "What shall I play?"
"In Dulci Jubilo," Marcella suggested smiling with anticipation.
"Good choice," Suzanna agreed clapping softly.
"Alright," Artemus replied again and tucked his instrument under his chin and played a moving rendition on the old favorite.
The women applauded enthusiastically when he finished and, seeing that Artie was more relaxed, quickly asked for another.
Jim was about to admit he'd missed a turn when in the distance he saw a faint colorful glow of red, blue, green, and a brighter white. Thank goodness, he sighed. Good old Artie. Ingenious way to decorate using colored lanterns and a darn good beacon to boot. Jim pressed his knees into his horse's flanks urging him on, the end of his long journey in sight. As he drew nearer, he heard the sweet tones that only Artie could draw from his violin.
Jim rode to the stable car and lowered the ramp. The snow and sounds of the storm muffled his entrance. He led his exhausted stallion into his stall and removed the saddle with half frozen fingers. Using the saddle blanket, he rubbed down his horse then curried him swiftly. Finally, he gave the tired animal a ration of oats, double as promised. He patted his faithful companion lovingly on the neck, took his saddlebag and went into the next car. The music was sweet and comforting as he stowed his gear in his room and moved silently to the living room just as Artemus finished playing "Greensleeves."
Jim saw Suzanna and Marcella seated on one of the sofas applauding his partner's performance and smiled. Suzanna Todd. This was a nice surprise. Jim joined in the applause from the doorway, globs of snow dropping from his caked top coat.
"Jim!" Artemus turned, set the violin aside and greeted his friend warmly with a hand on his shoulder as he shook hands with the other. "Boy, I'm glad to see you. Here, get out of that coat. You must be half frozen," Artie said taking Jim's coat and hat from him and hanging them on the coat rack.
"Glad to be back," Jim answered sincerely. "Marcella," he nodded, "and Suzanna," he leaned down to kiss her softly. With a shiver, he went to stand by the fireplace to warm himself. He looked around the comfortable room. It was brightly lit with every lamp glowing and the dinner table was set with their best linens, china and crystal. Artie had set up a small tree and decorated it with red ribbons and white paper snowflakes. Jim smiled warmly at Suzanna. "I’m so glad you came" he said motioning her over with a tilt of his head.
"I glad I came too," Suzanna answered going to him and giving him an affectionate hug and a warm kiss.
"Thank heavens you're here, Jim," Marcella told him. She stood next to Artie and hooked her arm in his. "Artemus was paying more attention to the weather and worrying about you than he was to being even a bad host. He sailed past 'bad host' at least an hour ago," she teased planting a kiss on Artie's cheek.
Artemus looked shamefaced. "I suppose I was. I'm sorry, ladies." Then he grinned at Jim and told him again, "Glad you're home safe."
Jim grinned at his worrisome friend. "What smells so good," he asked, "I'm starved."
"Roast goose with everything," Suzanna informed him. She turned to Artemus, "Do we have time for the presents first or should we eat first?"
"Why don't we give you our presents before dinner," he suggested and went to the small tree and picked up two small gifts. He read the tags and handed Jim the one addressed to Suzanna.
"I don't remember getting her anything," Jim muttered sotto voce, leaning close.
"You didn't, but don't worry," Artie muttered back, "She'll be thrilled."
Jim smiled a thank you and brought the gift to Suzanna who was back on the sofa next to Marcella.
She opened the offered gift, laying aside the satiny white ribbon. Inside the silvered paper was a small crystal jewel box inlaid with mother of pearl.
"Oh, Jim!" Suzanna exclaimed, "It's perfect! How beautiful!" She went to Jim, looped her arms behind his neck and gave him a passionate kiss, withdrawing rather reluctantly. With a sigh, she turned and showed the jewel box to Marcella who admired its beauty as well.
Then Artie handed Marcella her gift. She opened it expectantly, pulling the gold ribbon off and folding back the bright blue foil paper. It was a small mahogany music box. She opened it and let it play a little of the tinkling ‘Carol of the Bells’ while a tiny skater spun a circle on a mirrored lake.
"Artemus, how lovely! You remembered my fondness for music boxes. Thank you!" and rewarded him with a passionate kiss of her own on his lips.
"You are very welcome," he murmured, returning her kiss. With a sigh that matched Suzanna's he pulled back and asked, "Now who's ready to eat? I have to get that bird out of the oven before it's not fit for man nor beast," he beamed. "Give me a hand, Jim?"
"Excuse us ladies," Jim said and followed Artie into the galley. "So you were worried," Jim teased handing a towel to his partner.
"Not really," Artemus lied, using the towel to protect his hand as he removed the goose from the oven, then added, "Well, maybe just a little."
"How sweet," Jim continued to tease, grinning at him with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Make yourself useful, will you?" Artemus growled nodding toward a fresh loaf of bread that needed slicing. He flashed a grin back at Jim.
Together they set everything on serving platters and carried it in to the table. The ladies came to stand behind their chairs, as Artie filled the crystal glasses with wine. Jim passed the glasses around then held his up.
"To good friends, good company, and good food," he toasted.
"Here, here," Artie cheered.
They clinked their glasses and took a sip of the wine.
"And a Merry Christmas," Suzanna added.
"Here, here," Marcella agreed, and they clinked glasses again.
The gentlemen held the chairs for their ladies and all four enjoyed the wonderful meal. Full and satisfied, they retired to the sofas, Jim and Suzanna on one, Artie and Marcella facing them on the other.
"Do you two exchange gifts?" Marcella asked, curios.
"As a matter of fact, we do," Artie replied going to the tree and bringing a gold wrapped box to Jim. "Merry Christmas, James," he smiled handing Jim the present.
"Thank you, Artie," Jim said and pulled the ribbon off the box. Inside was a dark oak, intricately carved, box. Jim lifted the lid and found a set of antique dueling pistols in pristine condition. Now this was a surprise. "Artie! These are the pistols I admired in San Francisco 6 months ago!" he exclaimed flabbergasted. He'd wanted to buy them but thought the price extravagant and passed them up. "When did you get these?" he asked his friend lifting one of the pistols carefully and admiring it.
"Six months ago, when we were in San Francisco," Artie admitted pleased that Jim liked the gift.
"You've had these all this time? How did you get them? We left the same day we saw them in that shop," Jim asked turning the pistol and eyeing down the sight.
"When I went to Col. Richmond's train to file our report. I had him keep them for me until yesterday," Artie explained and took his seat next to Marcella. He draped his arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her closer. She snuggled contentedly against him.
"Thank you, Artie," Jim beamed. He set the box on the coffee table and rose. "I have a little something for you too," he said and went down the corridor, returning a moment later with the red foil wrapped gift.
"Why thank you James," Artemus said releasing his hold on Marcella and leaning forward to accept his gift. He opened it and froze, his face suddenly sober. Gently he picked up the priceless tome. "Jim," he breathed, "This is a first edition!" he exclaimed opening the leather bound book lovingly. He turned the pages with a delicate touch, clearly overwhelmed. Then he rose and faced his partner and friend. Jim offered his hand in friendship. "Thank you. I don't have words to tell you how much I appreciate this. Thank you," Artie repeated, his voice taut with emotion.
Jim smiled at him. "So you like it, then?" he teased, trying to lighten the moment.
"Of course!" Artie's beaming smile spoke volumes.
"Christmas carols!" the ladies exclaimed together. They had tears in their eyes, moved by the men's obvious, close friendship.
The ladies took turns singing to carols played by Artemus. The men sang a few with their dates and after a while, Artie put his instrument away declaring he was too full to sing or play anymore.
"Suzanna and I will clean up and get coffee, if you let us, while you two relax," Marcella offered brightly.
"I'll let you," Artie assured her, settling comfortably in a chair with his book. He began to read as the ladies cleared the table. When they were in the galley, he paused and asked casually, "Any trouble in New Haven?"
"Nope. Morris is in the jail awaiting federal guards," Jim told him examining more closely the dueling pistols.
"Good. How was your trip back?"
"To be honest, miserable. I would have missed the train completely if you hadn't hung the lanterns. I followed the light through the snow. By the way, what do I owe you for Suzanna's gift?"
"Twelve dollars," Artie answered casually. "You know we're never going to get them home tonight?" he added with a sly smile.
"You couldn't have planned it better," Jim winked.
"I wish I could take credit, but had nothing to do with it. The Man upstairs took care of that," Artie pointed upward.
"Well it is His birthday," Jim reasoned.
"So why is He giving us the good gifts?" Artie countered.
"He is an all loving, and giving God," Jim grinned eyes twinkling.
"Amen to that, brother," Artie agreed wholeheartedly. Then he suddenly rose, "I forgot to give you a wire," he said plucking a sheet of paper from the desk and handing it to Jim.
"Who's this from?" Jim asked curious.
"Read it and find out," Artie answered, "I'm not your secretary," he teased returning to his book.
Jim knew Artie knew who it was from since he'd taken the message. He unfolded the sheet and read a Merry Christmas wire from his parents and brother. They asked when they would see him.
"Did you answer this?" Jim asked.
"I did not," Artemus stated flatly, "That's for you to do. But the line's dead right now so you'll have to wait," he informed his friend. Then curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "So when will you see them?"
"I don't know. Did Col. Richmond mention another assignment?" Jim asked.
"No, in fact he said we'd probably be able to enjoy the New Year as well. Why don't you plan to visit your family since you have a week off?" Artie coaxed. "You haven't seen them in over a year."
Jim thought about it, then answered, "I think I will. What about you? You haven't seen your mother in over a year either," Jim asked.
"She's not home. She's visiting a friend in Italy," Artie answered a little sadly. "She had a friend send me a wire earlier."
"Then why don't you join me? It'll be a nice visit and if we do get an assignment you'll be close by," Jim suggested.
"Pass," Artie replied firmly, turning another page in his book.
"Why? Give me one good reason why you won't," Jim asked.
"I'll give you two. One, I wouldn't want to impose. And two, it would be impolite to invite me without asking your family first. They want to visit with you and may not appreciate a stranger around," Artie reasoned, continuing to read.
"What stranger? You've met my family before," Jim replied.
"Still, I think I'll pass," Artie made every effort to close the subject by burying himself in the tome.
Jim quickly snatched the book from Artie's hand and closed it.
"Hey!" Artie cried grabbing for the book, but Jim held it up out of his reach.
"Tell me the truth," Jim stated firmly, "You're not worried about being an imposition and you know my family would welcome you anytime. Why won't you come with me?"
"Your father didn't exactly like me, as I recall. Something about actors being worthless charlatans, I think he said. I wouldn't want to ruin his holidays, which my presence would if he doesn't want me around," Artie answered standing and reaching for the book again.
"I want you around," Jim stated sincerely, placing the book on the desk behind him then perching on the desk to block any attempt at retrieval. Then before Artie could protest, he said, "I'll ask them, I promise, but you'll see. They'll agree."
"If they agree, all of them," he stressed, "then I accept your offer. But if anyone has any objection, I won't impose. Agreed?" he proposed.
"Agreed," Jim concurred.
"Merry Christmas, Jim."
"Merry Christmas, Artie."
"Can I have my book back?"
Jim grinned and handed it over.
Suzanna and Marcella did not object to having to spend the night on the train, and were escorted home the next morning. With a memorable kiss for each man, the ladies were left with their Christmas Day to spend with their own families.
The two agents returned to the train and soon left for Jim's family's home in Oley, under clear skies, cold air, and deep snow. They traveled each to his own devices, Artie reading his favorite plays, Othello, Hamlet, and King Lear first, then starting at the beginning to read the rest.
Jim polished his new prized possessions and found an appropriate place to display them in the living room over the fireplace. As he polished them and examined the pistols more closely, he found them still in working order and was amazed. Artie was careful with money, and Jim knew these had set him back a pretty penny. He remembered thinking a month's salary was too much to spend for something he wanted for the mere pleasure of owning such masterpieces. Artie's extravagance was truly appreciated.
Artie closed his book and rubbed his eyes.
"Tired?" Jim asked.
"No. It's just more difficult reading these in the old English," Artie answered. "Hey, those look great there," he said admiring Jim's placement of the pistols.
"You know they're still in working condition. What a treasure," Jim said proudly. "How about a hand or two of poker?"
"Fine, set it up. I'll get my money," Artie headed down the corridor to his room.
When he returned he asked, "Did you contact your family?"
"No the line was still dead. I'll try now," Jim admitted, going to the desk. The wireless was working and he sent a wire wishing his family a Merry Christmas and telling them he was planning a few days visit and asked about bringing a guest.
"You better tell them who, you rascal," Artie said obviously listening to what Jim was tapping out.
"Alright, alright," Jim agreed and added who the guest was. Then he snapped the box closed. "We should have an answer in an hour or so, I should think," he said sitting as Artie dealt out the cards.
Close to two hours later the wireless clicked and Jim replied he was ready for the message.
'Looking forward to your visit with love. Frank and Amanda too. Children excited to see their Uncle James again. Father in accordance. Much love. Mother'
Jim turned to his partner, "Did you get that?" he asked with a smile.
"I certainly did. Have a nice visit," Artie answered casually.
"What? Did you hear something I didn't?" Jim asked aware that Artie was declining his offer to join him on his visit.
"Well, let's see. 'Father in accordance.' That doesn't sound like he's pleased. Sounds more like your mother is forcing him to agree. Probably threatened to deny him food and water," Artie joked.
"Artie, really," Jim moaned feigning disappointment in his friend's attitude. In reality he thought Artie might be right, that his father was probably agreeing for his mother's sake only.
"I'm sorry, Jim. That was uncalled for," Artie apologized for his remark, "But I really don't want to argue with your father or have to defend myself to him. He's a formidable force, you know."
"Believe me, I know. I grew up with him, remember?" Jim agreed. His father was a stubborn, opinionated man. Jim had learned to sidestep his father's love of a good argument, but Artie had been s*cked in every time on his first meeting with the man. "Come anyway," Jim urged.
"He has a low opinion of anyone who's connected in any way to the theater. He thinks I'm not trustworthy and doesn't like me being your partner," Artie argued.
Jim burst out laughing. "He does not!" he exclaimed.
"Oh yeah? So what did he mean by that crack about all actors being 'simpletons who don't know what a real day's work is'?" Artie quoted, "And 'how can an actor, a pretender by trade, be trusted'?" he continued, "Or, my favorite, 'how can our government permit such a weakling to be partnered with a highly decorated and respected war hero'?" Artie concluded raising his eyebrows in question.
"He didn't say that," Jim said still laughing. When he saw Artie's eyebrows raised, an unreadable expression on his face, he stopped laughing and asked seriously, "He said that to you?"
"Yes he did, and I don't want to hear it again," and Artie dealt another hand of poker with finality.
Jim sat across from him and picked up his cards. "But you'll come anyway, right?" he asked innocently.
Artie threw himself back in his chair exasperated. He looked Jim straight in the eye. He saw Jim meant his offer sincerely. He opened his mouth to protest and closed it again.
"Please," Jim did not ask in this manner often, and Artie felt his resolve melting.
"Fine, fine, fine," he finally relented, "But one insult aimed in my direction and I'll leave you there so fast it will make your head spin," he promised pointing a finger at Jim.
"Frank's kids loved you. Especially Ailene," Jim reminded Artie with a winning grin.
On their last visit, Jim's nephew, Jimmy had been awed by his Uncle James, following him everywhere, asking questions and listening raptly to stories of their cases. The young boy had peppered Artemus with questions about his uncle, until his Uncle James had clearly become his hero.
Little Ailene had been enthralled with Artie who told her stories, using different voices for different characters and even acting out some of the parts. She had been tender with him, sitting in his lap, planting butterfly kisses on his eyes and holding his hand whenever she could.
Jim and Artie had played outside with the children for hours on end like they were children themselves, playing Hide and Seek, and All the All the Oxen Freeze. Ailene had gotten Artie to try and skip rope, but he was not very good at it. Jimmy especially enjoyed playing secret agent with them. They had devised simple 'cases' for them to solve, Jimmy partnered with Jim, who guided them through the the art of when to fight an enemy while Artie taught them to think through problems to find a solution. Like his Uncle Jim, Jimmy was talented at the more physical aspects while Ailene excelled at out thinking her brother. Jimmy and Ailene would now be 11 and 9 respectively.
"I agreed to come, you don't have to sweeten the pot," Artie replied good naturedly, "except this one,” he tapped the table, “Bet, will you?"
Jim smiled, placed his bet and won the hand. Artie threw down his cards in frustration. "That's it, I'm finished," he stated sourly. "We're going to be there late tomorrow afternoon, don't you think you should acknowledge their wire?"
"No. Let's surprise them," Jim smiled. He was looking forward to seeing his family again but was sorry Artie would not see his mother, again, this year. He knew his friend worried about her being alone, but took comfort in the knowledge she had a wide circle of friends here and abroad. Still, she was not a young woman anymore and the loss of her sister, who had been living with her, had affected her deeply.
Late the next afternoon, the train pulled into the Reading Station. From there, it was an hour's ride on horseback into the Oley Valley. Early in the evening, the two agents rode up to the neat two story home where Jim had grown up. They went through the gate and barely stepped onto the porch when the door flew open and Jim's mother threw herself into his arms.
"Jimmy, oh, Jimmy, what a surprise!" she cried hugging him fiercely, "We didn't know when to expect you!"
Jim hugged her tightly, "We wanted to surprise you. Mom, you look great," he said kissing her cheek.
"Let me look at you," Maggie West held her younger son at arm's length admiringly. "Still the most handsome boy I ever saw," she said. Then she turned to Artie. "And dear, Artemus," she said and hugged him affectionately. He hugged her with one arm. "You look well," she said stepping back and eyeing him up and down.
"Thank you. You look lovely as ever, Mrs. West," he smiled turning on the charm.
Jim's father appeared in the doorway, "Son, you look fit and well," he said shaking hands with Jim. He was not always a demonstrative man, but was clearly glad to see Jim looking at him with obvious pride.
"Dad," Jim replied, haking his father's hand, "You look good too."
"I'm well enough for a man my age," Robert West replied. "Well let's not stand out here on the porch. It's cold. Come in," he stood aside for his wife and Jim to enter. He gave Artie a half sour smile, "Gordon, good to see you again," he said with a slight nod.
"Good to see you too, sir. I hope you've been well," Artie answered conversationally.
"Just said I was, didn't I?" Mr. West remarked and entered before Artemus. Artie lifted his eyes to the sky, said a silent prayer and followed him in.
Frank and Amanda and the children were milling around Jim, hugging, shaking hands, and exchanging excited greetings and news. Amanda was first to see Artie and greeted him warmly.
"We're so glad you could join us, Artemus," she told him. "Ailene has been looking forward to this since Jim's wire came."
"I drew you a picture," Ailene said climbing down from her uncle's arms and going to Artemus, "Do you want to see it?"
"I certainly do," Artie smiled pleasantly, leaning down and caressing her long blond curls.
"How are your mother and father, Artemus?" Mrs. West asked, "We saw then in a play years ago and so enjoyed their performance."
"Mother is fine. Dad died a few years ago, though," Artie answered.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Mrs. West said sympathetically. "I don't think I knew that. Please leave me your mother's address so I can express our condolences personally, albeit late," she asked.
"I will, thank you," Artie agreed with a nod.
"How has your mother been holding up, dear?" Mrs. West inquired with genuine concern.
"Alright. She's had her sister, my Aunt Mae, staying with her until last year," Artie told her.
"That's been a comfort for her, I'm sure," Mrs. West returned, "I'm sure she's glad for the company at this time of year."
"Mom, Artie's aunt died last year," Jim answered for his friend who was suddenly finding the pattern in the carpet of great interest.
"What kind of a man leaves his widowed old mother alone at the holidays?" Jim's father asked forcefully, fixing Artie with a narrowed gaze.
Artie shot a look at Jim who shrugged imperceptibly.
"I'd planned a visit, but mother is visiting friends abroad," Artie answered politely.
"Robert," Mrs. West warned her husband with a glare.
"Humph," Mr. West grunted and went to sit by the fireplace.
"He doesn't mean anything," Mrs. West told Artemus, patting his arm. "He's just turning into a curmudgeon."
"I heard that," Mr. West called over.
"Good," Mrs. West shot back at him. "You boys come in. We have a little something for each of you," she guided them to chairs. "Jimmy," she said.
"Yes," both uncle and nephew answered in unison.
Frank laughed. "Mom, don't you think you could call him Jim now? He isn't a little boy anymore," he said sitting with his wife on the sofa.
"He'll always be my little boy. You both will," she answered, "But I suppose it would make things simpler. But I meant little Jimmy. Get the gifts, please dear," she addressed her grandson.
Jimmy ran to the tree and came back with two gifts, which he handed to the agents.
"How did you have time to get anything?" Jim asked opening his first. It was a navy blue scarf hand made by his mother. He recognized her favorite pattern.
"I was going to send it along, but since you're here," she said smiling. "Do you like it? I knitted it for you."
Jim wrapped the scarf around his neck, "It's perfect, mom. Thank you."
"Yours is white," Jimmy said to Artemus.
"Jimmy! You're not supposed to tell what's in it before he opens it," Ailene said sternly to her impetuous brother.
"Oops. Sorry," Jimmy replied sheepishly.
"Just what I needed," Artemus said opening the gift and shaking out the folded scarf. "It will be just the thing to go with my black top coat when I go out to the theatre," he said, wrapping it around his throat "Thank you very much."
Mr. West snickered at him from his place by the fire.
"I'm afraid we didn't have the opportunity to shop, mom," Jim said drawing attention away from his father's mood.
"You're gift enough for us," she said and hugged him warmly.
They chatted, catching up on events in their lives since they were last together. Jimmy and Ailene sat on the floor cross legged listening to some of their escapades on some of their cases. Even Robert West seemed interested asking questions and making approving remarks when Artie told of Jim's part in defeating the criminals. A true story teller, and with a young, rapt audience, he left no details out. His telling had the desired effect as little Jimmy excitedly cheered his uncle throughout the story.
Jim and Frank went out onto the porch for a cigar and Jimmy and Mr. West tagged along. Artemus was cornered by Ailene who brought her drawing to him for his approval. She had drawn her uncle Jim, obviously defeating a criminal with a single punch. It was quite good for a nine year old and he told her so.
"But it doesn't look real," Ailene commented, "I can't get people to look like real people. See his arm looks too big," she pointed out.
"Let me show you how to make that better," Artemus offered. Ailene got paper and pencil for him and he showed her what perspective and proportion were and how to use them in her drawings. "You see?" he asked demonstrating by sketching out what she had depicted in her drawing.
"You draw good, Artemus," she said obviously impressed, "I can't do that."
"Of course you can. It just takes practice," he told her, "Try." He handed the paper and pencil to her.
Amanda and Maggie West stood over them looking down as Ailene drew Jim again. The resulting drawing was better than before. "See?" Artie told her, "That's better already," he complimented the child.
"Yeah, it is," she beamed admiring what she had produced. "Draw something else," she asked and gave him more paper.
"Alright. What shall I draw?" he asked her.
"Draw grandpa," Ailene suggested.
"Uh," Artie started, "Are you sure?" Evilly, he imagined drawing Robert West with devil horns and tail, but quickly pushed the image away.
"Sure, I'm sure. Draw grandpa sitting in his chair by the fireplace," Ailene said.
Artemus looked at the blank page a moment then at the chair placed by the fire. He began to sketch lines and curves that resembled nothing at first. The three females watched as he filled in areas with straight lines, curls, and shading until a few minutes later he'd drawn a very good likeness of Mr. West sitting in the chair by the fireplace. He added the lines and creases on the older man's face that brought the picture to life.
"That's him," Mrs. West breathed.
"That's amazing," Amanda added, "and so fast."
"Wow, wait til I show grandpa, Artemus. He'll like you when he sees this," Ailene blurted innocently.
"Ailene," Amanda and Mrs. West hissed in unison.
"I'm sorry," Ailene said immediately realizing what she'd said.
"Your grandfather likes Artemus," her mother admonished, "now apologize."
"I did, mama," Ailene answered, but apologized again, "I'm sorry Artemus. Did I hurt your feelings?" she asked her eyes welling at the thought of having hurt him.
"No, child," he tenderly caressed her cheek, than glancing up at the two women, he chuffed out a short laugh, "Out of the mouths of babes," he quoted poetically.
Just then the group from the porch came back in laughing at some shared joke. They stopped when they saw the serious looks on the faces of the ladies.
"What's happened," Frank asked cautiously.
"Nothing, dear," Amanda answered, "I'm going to help your mother in the kitchen," she said going to her husband and kissing him. "Keep the peace in here," she whispered in his ear before following her mother-in-law into the kitchen.
Frank looked at her quizzically. Mr. West looked over Artie's shoulder at the picture he'd drawn.
"You draw that?" he asked gruffly.
"Ailene asked me to," Artie answered quietly acknowledging.
Jim picked up the paper and he and Frank looked it over. "It's you, dad," Jim said smiling in admiration and amusement.
"I can see that," his father remarked. "Why'd you want him to draw me, for heavens sake," he asked Ailene more sternly than he intended.
"Artemus was showing me how to draw better and I just asked him to, grandpa,” Ailene answered in her best imitation of a stern tone. Seeing her grandfather looking chastised, she continued in a delighted tone, “He did it so fast, grandpa, you should have seen him. First he just made squiggly lines all over the page and next thing we knew he made them into you. Isn't it good?" she asked hopefully.
The old man looked at his granddaughter. He would rather cut out his tongue than say anything to hurt her, but could not bring himself to compliment Artemus either. He thought of him as an actor, and bought in to the rumors and inuendos that seemed to follow the profession. Robert West did not trust the man, and could barely tolerate that he worked with his son let alone have him in his house. "It's me alright," he settled on with a pat to his grandchild's head.
"Dad," Jim said quietly but with obvious disapproval. His father could be so unpleasant when he wanted to be. Jim was fully aware of his feelings about the acting profession and had been further enlightened on his opinion of his partner earlier.
"You have to admit, he's talented, dad," Frank added, embarrassed both for his father's attitude and his brother's voiced disapproval.
"I don't have to admit anything," Mr. West replied tersely. He picked up a newspaper and settled into his chair by the fireplace.
"Grandpa, why are you being so mean to Artemus?" Jimmy asked, picking up on the tension in the room, "I think his picture's real fine."
"Jimmy, don't speak to your grandfather that way," Frank admonished. He demanded his children remain respectful, no matter what.
Jimmy just looked defiant but said nothing else. Mr. West tussled the boy's hair, then stood and went into the kitchen.
"Artemus, I hope you don't take offense at dad," Frank said apologetically.