The Night Of The Mixed Up Mind

[Artiespet]

THE NIGHT OF THE MIXED UP MIND

“Hey, Jim, you here?” Artemus Gordon, Secret Service Agent for the United States Government, called to his partner James West.

“Yeah, Artie, I’m back here!” he shouted, Artemus went through the train to the weapons room.

“We just got a telegram from Washington…” Artie said trying to hide his glee.

“Oh great, we’re already on the way at top speed what more can they want?” Jim wondered.

“Nothing much, just a change in our schedule,” by now Artemus was grinning form ear to ear.

“Change? Okay, where are we headed?”

“Phoenix,” came the reply.

“Arizona? Why there…there’s not much there but a mill and the beginnings of a town,” Jim wondered.

“And don’t forget lakes.”

“Lakes? What has lakes got to do with our assignment?”

“Nothing. We’re just the transportation detail on this run.”

“Who or what are we transporting?”

“President Grant. All we have to do is drop him off for some silly city ceremony. He will have his own guards for this trip.”

“Artie…what about the lakes…get to the lakes.”

“Lakes? Oh yeah. After we drop him off in Phoenix we have to wait around for a few days and take him back to Washington. In the meantime he said we get to get in as much fishing as we want. And I’ve been told they have some great lakes in the area,” Artie informed him, his grin reaching from ear to ear.

“And you do have that new fishing pole you rigged up that you’re just dying to try out. And I don’t suppose a new town like Phoenix will have much in the way of female companionship to offer so yeah, pal, that sounds like a plan to me.”

“Great! We’ll be in Washington tomorrow to pick up Grant and his troupe and then head for Phoenix and what I hope will be some of the best fishing ever,” Artie turned and left, leaving Jim shaking his head at his partner.

Just as much as Artemus loved the President’s company he was beginning to detest the presence his entourage. Being followed night and day on the small train was beginning to take its toll on him. These agents must be new, he thought, but someone better tell them to back off. We’re on a moving train and we ARE fellow agents for Pete’s sake. One more of these bozos tries to follow me to the WC and I’m going to lose my cool. Artemus glared at his shadow from across the varnish car, the glare was not lost on the President.

“Artemus,” Grant spoke, “join me outside for a moment won’t you?” He rose and went out to the “porch” and Artemus followed.

“Yes, sir?” Artemus asked hesitantly.

“I have noticed you don’t seem to like certain members of my troupe,” Grant stated flatly.

“It’s not that sir…”

“Come now, Artemus. You think I didn’t catch those daggers you were throwing with your eyes back there? If you have some reservations I’d like to hear them.”

“Not reservations exactly, sir, just…well…I just don’t understand why they have to follow Jim and I around. It’s not like we’re strangers,” Artemus’ irritated expression was not lost on the President.

“What do you mean?”

“Sir, I don’t want to whine…but they follow us everywhere. And I do mean EVERYWHERE! We can’t eat, sleep or even use the facilities without a tail. My tail in particular seems to be particularly dedicated to his task. He even insists on checking the WC before AND after I use it,” Artemus spat angrily causing Grant to realize he needed to stop this before things got out of hand.

“I had no idea they were being so…diligent. I’ll speak to them right away. There is no need whatsoever for them to keep you and Mr. West under tabs.”

“Thank you, sir. I would really appreciate that.”

“Artemus?” Grant said as Artie turned to go back in.

“Yes, sir?”

“These past few months have been especially hard on you and Mr. West. I hope you have something relaxing planned for your stay in Phoenix.”

“Yes, sir, we’re going fishing,” Artie replied with a slight smile.

“Well, that should be relaxing for you two, Lord knows you deserve it. And do try to stay out of trouble,” Grant smirked.

“Sir, we’re only going fishing…what can happen on a simple fishing trip?”

“When it’s you two doing the fishing I shudder to think about it,” they returned to the varnish car and Artie went to his lab leaving the President to his discussion with the agents.

The remainder of the trip to Phoenix was relatively pleasant as far as Jim was concerned. The talk the President had with the men had at least gotten them to back off a little. And Jim had found other things to occupy his time like getting ready for the fishing trip with Artie. Jim was still rather puzzled by his partner’s behavior of late. Artie had calmed down some after Grant’s talk but Jim could sense something was still bothering him. He hoped whatever it was Artie could at least forget about it for a few days while they went fishing. A vacation, even a couple of days, is more than we’ve had in a long time maybe that’s what’s bothering Artie, Jim thought. Oh well, once he gets a pole in his hands I’m sure he’ll be fine. Jim went back to cleaning his guns and checking his equipment.

The train pulled into Phoenix early in the morning just as the sun was rising. Jim and Artie had their mounts waiting and took off as soon as they were dismissed. Grant tried to hide his grin as he watched them scramble to get away from his agents as quickly as they could.

“Jim…” Artie began hesitantly.

“Yeah, Artie?” Jim hoped that now was when his partner would finally confide in him what has been bothering him.

“What do you think about the Hardin thing?”

“Hardin?” Jim questioned, I hope this isn’t what’s bothering him.

“Yeah, you know, Bat Masterson chasing John Wesley Hardin all over the place for the past ten years. It’s kind of like us and Loveless,” his partner seemed especially pensive.

“Hmm, I never thought about it but I guess you could see it that way. Is this what’s been bothering you for the past week or so?”

“Kind of silly I guess, but yeah. I mean look at Loveless. Every time we catch him he manages to find a way to escape. We keep chasing after him and putting him behind bars and he just keeps escaping. What’s the point?”

“Wow, pal, this really has you upset,” Jim looked at his partner.

“Yes, it does. I mean what’s the point in getting ourselves tortured, shot at, beaten up, hypnotized, and lord knows what else if ends up the same way every time?”

“It’s our job, pal. Maybe where Loveless is concerned our job is to put him in jail and his job is to get out. Call it job security.” Jim chuckled trying to lighten his friend’s increasingly dark mood.

“That’s just the point, Jim. Why keep doing the job if we can’t get the job done right the first time? What we need is a fool proof plan to get these men behind bars and keep them there for good,” The look of determination on Artie’s face worried Jim.

“We do our job by putting them behind bars. It’s not our job to see that they stay there.” They rode on in silence.

It took the better part of the day to reach the lake Artie had picked out and they were tired as they dismounted and made camp. Artie cooked some beans and bacon they had brought along “just in case” they didn’t catch anything. Jim got the horses settled and brought extra wood for the fire. They sat quietly eating, neither wanting to break the first bit of peace and quiet they had had in a while. Finally Artie broke the silence.

“I’m going to turn in, Jim. I want to get an early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah that’s not a bad idea, pal. I think I’ll join you,” Jim put more wood on the fire and went to the lean-to they had constructed and soon both were sound asleep.

They woke the next morning and ate a hasty breakfast. Artie doused the fire and secured their campsite. Even though they were miles from anywhere he would feel safer with their belongings safely tucked away. They decided they wouldn’t need their horses so they fed them and left them tied to the tree. The men grabbed their poles and bait and left the campsite.

“Hey, Artie,” Jim said with a twinkle in his eye, “bet I get more than you.”

“Not on your life, Jim. With my new pole you don’t stand a chance,” Artie smiled back at his partner.

“A date complete with champagne AND lovely ladies supplied by the loser says I do,” Jim smiled at his partner.

“All right, you’re on. I think I’ll go over this way and make my way around the lake. Wouldn’t want you sneaking any fish out of my creel,” Artie winked.

“See you at lunchtime, loser,” Jim replied as he shook his head and chuckled.

Artie scanned the area before him. He had thought he had seen several fish jumping on the surface of the lake as he worked his way over to a rock. He scrambled to the top of the rock and looked into the waters below. Ah, yes, fish and plenty of them! Eat your heart out James, that all expenses paid date is mine! He said to himself as he dropped his line into the water. All he had to do now was wait for them to start taking his bait. He pulled his hat over his head to shield him from the sun, which was beginning to climb its way up.

I know Jim’s right but I just can’t get Bat Masterson and John Wesley Hardin out of my mind. They’re so damned close to Jim and I in comparison. Every time we think we’ve got Loveless put away where he’ll never get out give him a week and he’s on the loose again. Masterson gets Hardin in jail and he sweet talks his way out of any trouble he gets into or worse yet, he tries to make people think he’s on the straight and narrow. Now there’s one creep I’d love to put away where he can never get out. Artie lay on the rock deep in thought as he fished.

After about an hour of lying on the rock Artie had several rather large fish in his creel. He decided he would go check out another spot where he had seen several fish jumping.

He pulled his pole up and grabbed his creel and began heading off the rock when Jim appeared waving, smiling and shouting. Artie turned around to see what was the matter with his partner and he lost his balance. Arms flailing, fishing equipment falling, Artie tried to correct and get his balance back. Jim could only stare open mouthed.

Just when Jim thought his friend had regained his balance he watched Artie bend over to retrieve his fishing pole and watched in horror as his footing slipped and he slid down the rock. Artie grabbed frantically, looking for anything to hold onto. But the rock had been worn smooth by the weather and he found nothing he could grip. Artie remembered the abundant rocks he had seen below the water’s surface when he was fishing and as he slid off the rock he tried to propel himself away from them.
With a splash Artie landed head first in the shallow water near the rock. When he came up he was face down and not moving.

Jim shook himself back to reality and ran into the water and pulled him to the shore. He turned Artie over and checked for injuries. The only injuries seemed to be the enormous cut just above his right eye, which was bleeding profusely, and a rather large lump on the back of his head that was also bleeding. Jim quickly shrugged out of his shirt, tore it in two and used it as bandages. He picked his friend up and carried him back to the campsite.

After he laid him down in the lean-to he completed a closer inspection of his friend and was not pleased by what he found. Artie had a rather large lump on the back of his head and a small cut, which he decided wouldn’t need to be bandaged. The cut on his forehead, however, was a different story. The bleeding here took him longer to stop; Jim had always hated head wounds you just never could tell just how serious they were as they always bled profusely even the tiniest of cuts.

He bandaged Artie’s head and sat back to wait for him to wake up. When he regained consciousness he would be able to tell the extent of the damage and then they would decide if they needed to cut the fishing trip short. Jim made coffee and waited.

A short time later, Jim was rewarded with a moan from the lean-to. He leaned over his friend and waited for him to open his eyes. Artie slowly opened his eyes and forced them to focus. Jim was somewhat surprised by the shocked look he received.

“Hey, pal, how are you feeling? You took a pretty good hit on your head when you fell off that rock,” Jim leaned in to check on him and Artie pulled back.

“Excuse me, but what are YOU doing here?” Artie asked as he reached for the gun he wasn’t wearing.

“And what have you done with my gun?” He demanded angrily as he rose.

“Artie, you better lie back. You need to rest, you did hit your head pretty hard,” Jim tried to ease him back onto the ground.

“I don’t know this Artie you’re talking about and I do NOT need to rest,” Artie scrutinized his partner carefully.

“But you, sir I do know. Now, you better tell me where you put my gun, John.”

“John? Artie, are you all right? I’m not John, it’s me, Jim, your partner,” Jim looked at him with concern.

“I have no partner and you ARE John. Don’t try to fool me, Hardin. I’ve been trailing you off and on for over ten years,” Artie sat up quickly, grasping his head against the pain and nausea.

“Hardin? Artie, what the hell…you think I’m John Wesley Hardin? Snap out of it, Artie. I’m your partner, James West…we’re Secret Service agents for President Grant.”

“Oh brother, Hardin. The length’s you won’t go to to avoid prison or a rope.”

“Artie, this isn’t funny.”

“Ain’t nothin funny about bein wanted for murder.”

[Artiespet]

“Murder…come on, Artie, this isn’t funny knock off with the gag. You won the fishing contest okay?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Hardin. I never heard of any Artie and I’m not one of President Grant’s Secret Service men. I’m just plain old Bat Masterson and I’m going to take you in.”

“Bat…No you’re not. You’re Artemus Gordon, Secret Service agent and you’re my partner. Think Artie…you’ve got to think!” Jim was getting quite worried.

“No! You’re not going to pull your crap with me, Hardin. I’ve studied you for years…I know all your dirty little tricks. Just as soon as I get my horse saddled I’m taking you back to town.”

“Artie” rose to his feet and swayed. Jim reached out and steadied him. The concern written deeply on his features. “Artie” pulled away and stumbled toward his horse. Jim thought quickly and decided he needed to get him to a doctor and fast and the only way to do that was to get him to follow him. He made his decision and acted quickly. He helped “Artie” saddle the horses, noting with disdain the times “Artie” had to stop to throw up. That usually meant severe concussion and whoever he thought he was this man was just as stubborn as his Artie when it came to taking care of himself.

Jim mounted his horse and pretended to wait patiently for “Artie” to mount. While “Artie” was getting on his horse Jim, as hard as it was for him to do it, and he knew he had to, yanked on his horses’ reigns and bolted across the meadow and into the trees on the other side of the clearing, hoping “Artie” would follow.

He was rewarded with the sounds of hoof beats closing the gap behind him. He intentionally slowed his horse allowing “Artie” to close in. Suddenly he heard then felt the gunshot as the bullet ripped through the air beside his head. Jim spurred his horse onward and headed away from the lake and toward Phoenix. He only hoped he could get “Artie” back to town and to a doctor before “Artie” became the crack shot he knew he was and Jim wouldn’t be able to help him.

Jim rounded the bend and ducked quickly to avoid a low hanging branch. He listened for the sounds of his partner’s continued trailing and was rewarded with another shot past his head. Jim knew that in his partner’s current state of mind it would be difficult, if not impossible, to talk some sense into him let alone lure him into town to see a doctor. Whoever he thinks he is right now…deep down, he’s still Artie. I’m not sure I can stop him without hurting him. But how can I harm my best friend? Jim shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked for cover. He found an opening in the rocks off to his right and made for it full speed.

He quickly hid his horse and pulled some branches over the opening just as “Artie” rounded the bend. Jim peered out between the leaves and watched as “Artie” dismounted and looked around. “Artie” took his hat off and wiped at his sweaty face, wincing when he touched the cut on his forehead. He swayed slightly, grunted disgustedly and climbed back on his horse and rode off. Jim mounted his horse and followed his partner; determined to keep an eye on him no matter what the cost.

Damnit, Bat, how’d you manage to lose Hardin yet again? “Artie” thought to himself. He put his hand to his head trying to stop the pounding. His headache had returned full force and every hoof beat throbbed through his head like a jackhammer. That mangy polecat must have doubled back somehow. He’s probably behind me watching me. “Artie” reined in his horse and dismounted, looking for any signs of his prey.

Jim pulled up and stayed hidden by the rocks as he watched his friend. I hope Artie can last until I can get him back to Phoenix. He looks like he’s going to drop. He’s probably got a concussion. I wish I could reason with him somehow. I know how my Artie thinks but I have no idea how this Artie thinks. Damnit, what am I supposed to do? If that were anyone but Artie I would just subdue them and take them into town by force. But no matter whom he thinks he is that’s still Artie out there. I can’t hurt him even though he’s out to hurt me or even kill me.

The frown on Jim’s face deepened as he looked around trying to come up with a peaceful solution to his dilemma. He tried to remember the path they had taken and he realized, as he looked around, that, while it would be a long climb, if they went up this huge hill of rocks and down the other side they would cut miles off the trip.

Thinking quickly, Jim kicked his steed toward the rocks and made as much noise as he could. His actions had the desired effect, as he turned back to see “Artie” pull himself into his saddle to follow him. Jim urged his steed to pick up the pace, not wanting his partner to get too close. When he neared the top he turned and looked down the rock mountain.

“Artie” had begun teetering in his saddle and Jim knew it wouldn’t be long before he fell. Jim jumped down off his horse and began to head back down toward his friend. “Artie” looked up and saw him and pulled his gun from its holster and fired, causing Jim to dive behind a boulder. Thinking quickly, Jim shouted at him.

“Come on, Art…Bat, you need help. You’re hurt…let me help.”

“Hardin, you’ve never voluntarily helped anyone in yer life!”

“Maybe I figure now is a good time to start,” came the reply.

“I’m fine I don’t need any help. But I can’t say the same for you, Hardin!” “Artie” retorted as he continued to snake his way up the hillside on foot pulling his horse by the reins, working his way around the boulders.

“What if I tell you I’m willing to let you take me back to Phoenix. I won’t put up a fight?” Jim tried to reason with him as he maneuvered his way down trying to get closer to him.

“I’d say you were up to something, Hardin. And I ain’t about ta let ya pull one over on me…not again. The only way to take you back is over my saddle.”

Jim looked out from his hiding place as “Artie” neared his position. He was dismayed to see his partner struggling for breath in the intense heat of the day and there was a fresh trail of infection tinted blood leaking from his bandage. “Artie” spotted him and fired in his direction again, causing Jim to dive for cover. Jim went back up to the top and tried to think of a way out of this without having to harm him.

Night would soon be upon them and “Artie” knew he had to try and stop Hardin before he could use the cover of darkness to escape his grasp yet again. The going was rough in the twilight and “Artie” paused and wiped the sweat off his face, not noticing that it was really blood, and he began his ascent again.

Jim knew he couldn’t allow “Artie” to reach him. What am I going to do? I can’t shoot him but I can’t let him reach me. There has to be something I’m overlooking. Damn, I wish it was me and not Artie down there…Artie would have some ideas for a situation like this. I never realized just how much I rely on him until now. Somehow I’ve got to get through to him before this gets one of us killed. Jim decided on his course of action and leaned out and took a shot at his friend and partner, intentionally missing him.

“Yer slippin, Hardin, that shot missed me by a mile!”

“What can I say, it’s been a long day, Masterson. What do you say we take a break and head for town in the morning?” Jim tried.

“No go, Hardin. You’ve gotten away from me for the last time. I aim to take you to jail and see that you stay put this time!”

Jim leaned out again and saw that “Artie’s progress was slowing. In the dwindling light it was becoming increasingly difficult to find a good path through the rocks and boulders. Before he could shout out a warning, Jim saw Arties’ right leg come in contact with a rock jutting out. Jim could only watch as Artie collided with the rock.

“Artie” slipped, cursing the twilight, as his leg struck a jagged rock sticking out. He reached out to stop his fall and missed the rock. There was little he could do as he slid down but cry out in pain as the rock tore a jagged tear in his leg just above the top of his right boot. He sat heavily on a rock and glared at his offending appendage. Jim slipped out from behind the rock and started down toward him.

“Stay where you are, Hardin!” “Artie” yelled as he raised his gun.

“Art…er…Bat…you’re bleeding you need my help,” Jim pleaded with his friend as he inched closer.

“I don’t need the kind of help you’d give…now back off!” “Artie” pulled the hammer back on his pistol.

Jim stopped and glared at his friend not wanting to believe that he really meant the harsh things he was saying. He shrugged his shoulders, turned around and went back up to the top. I guess I can wait until this day catches up with him and he passes out then go down and help him, whether or not he wants it, Jim thought dejectedly as he leaned against the rock and sighed.
“Artie” leaned back against the rock, wishing fervently that he were in a soft bed in a hotel somewhere. Why did I let myself get talked into that damned contest in the first place? “Artie” thought.

“Now where did THAT come from?” “Artie” wondered, “I must be letting Hardin get to me. Come on Bat keep your wits about you or you could wake up dead in the morning, oh now I’m really losing it” “Artie” rubbed his temples trying to ease the throbbing.
As the sun dropped below the horizon, the air cooled down considerably and “Artie” began to rub his hands up and down his arms trying to keep warm. He thought about going to his horse to get his blanket but he didn’t trust Hardin so he just stayed where he was. He pulled his fringed riding jacket tighter and pushed himself as far back against the rock as he could.

Jim watched and waited until he was certain “Artie” was sleeping before he ventured down to check on his friend. He carefully pried his arms away from his body to get a closer look at him. His head was oozing blood and infection, something that worried Jim, and his leg looked nasty. Jim went down to “Artie’s” horse, which had wandered back down the hill in search of something to eat, to retrieve his canteen and blanket. He gave the horse a drink then went up to take care of his partner.

Jim carefully pulled up his pant leg and winced as he saw the jagged tear the rock had caused. That’s going to be pretty painful by morning, Jim thought as he washed the dirt out of the cut as best he could. He tore the shirttail off of his shirt and used it as a bandage.

Next he went to work on his head. He stopped when Artie groaned, afraid of what might happen if he woke up while he was working on him. Artie muttered something about Hardin and Loveless and drifted back into unconsciousness. Jim just shook his head and frowned.

After he had cleaned him up and bandaged him the best he could, Jim wanted to take him back to Phoenix, but he knew that just wasn’t possible. He couldn’t risk waking him. It took all of his will power to get up and walk away from his best friend. I feel like a heel leaving him here like this. It’s not right, Jim thought, but I know I can’t stay here with him. If he wakes up and sees me here he might take it the wrong way and blow my head off and there’s no way I could get us to Phoenix without waking him. Jim went back up the hill and settled in for the night.

The next morning dawned much like the previous one, hot, sunny and humid. Jim started, not realizing he had allowed himself to fall asleep. He looked around and remembered the events of the day before. He noiselessly stood and looked over the rock and down toward his partner.

Artemus still lay huddled near the rock where he had left him and even from this far away Jim could see the flush on his cheeks, Damnit, Artie’s got a fever. I’ve got to talk him into letting me help him, Jim thought to himself as “Artie” began to stir.

“Artie” woke and forced his eyes to focus. He shook his head to clear it and decided that might not have been the best thing he could have done. His headache was worse than before and he hadn’t thought that could be possible. “Artie” shook off the cobwebs gathering in his head and realized he was in trouble. Dang it, now I have a fever, can this day get any better? “Artie” grumbled as he remembered his leg, which was still throbbing in time with his heart. He reached down to check the damage and was shocked to find the bandage. He inspected it and found it to be a pretty good first aid job.

“Now how in Sam Hill would I know that?” “Artie” asked himself.

“Hardin?” “Artie” yelled up the hill, hoping his prisoner was still there as he really didn’t feel like wandering all over the Arizona territory looking for him.

“Yeah, Bat…I’m still here…what can I do for you?” Damn, Jim thought, he still thinks he’s Bat Masterson. This is not going to be easy.

“I see you were pretty busy last night…” “Artie” replied.

“Just trying to prove to you that I’m not the man you think I am,” came the reply.

“Yeah, well don’t get yer hopes up, Hardin. I still aim to take you in.”

“How bout I volunteer to go in peacefully if you let me help you?” Secretly Jim hoped this would work but in his heart he knew it wouldn’t. Masterson had a reputation for bringing just as many fugitives in dead as alive.

“We went through this yesterday. Today ain’t no different I still don’t trust you. There’s only one way to take you in, Hardin and that’s over my saddle.”

“That’s just it…if you could just remember who you really are you’d remember that you trust me implicitly.”

“Implicitly…where’d you learn a word like that, Hardin?”

“Like I’ve been telling you…I’m not John Wesley Hardin. I’m James West…”

“Yeah…yeah and you think I’m some guy named Artie. Who in their right mind would name their kid Artie?”

“I call you Artie…you’re full name is Artemus…Artemus Gordon.”

“Heh, not much better if you ask me. You’re gonna have to do better than that Hardin if you want me to believe you.”

“Artie” struggled to his feet and using his rifle as a crutch, he began the long climb up toward Jim. Jim leapt from behind his rock and looked around. He couldn’t let “Artie” get up there or he would have the drop on him if Jim tried to go down the hill. Jim took several deep breaths and exhaled with a burst. It’s now or never, he thought as he leaned around the rock.

“That’s far enough, Masterson! Don’t make me shoot you!”

“And I thought you wanted to be my friend,” “Artie” sneered.

“I AM your friend. But until you return to your senses I can’t allow you to get up here and get the drop on me. Sorry, Art…Bat…but if you take one more step I’ll have to shoot.”

“I can tell when you’re lying, Hardin. You always look away,” “Artie” said as he took another tentative step up toward Jim.

“Artie” was forced to dive for cover when Jim proved true to his word and he fired a shot just above his head. “Artie” slammed to the ground, dropping his rifle in exchange for his smaller and easier to use pistol. “Artie” rose up and fired a shot. Jim ducked back behind his rock.

“I thought you wanted me alive, Bat.”

“Maybe I changed my mind. The posters don’t say nothin bout you needin to be breathin when I bring ya in.”

“No I guess not but if I have to go in I’d prefer to be breathing not slung over a saddle.”

“Makes no nevermind to me how you get there…” “Artie” yelled back as he fired again.

“What is the delay, gentleman? I told you I wanted to be headed back to Washington TODAY not tomorrow, not the next day…TODAY! Grant’s shouts thundered through the train.

“Sorry, Mr. President. It seems Mr. West and Mr. Gordon have not arrived yet.”

“Not arrived…I gave them explicit instructions to return no later than last night.”

“Well, sir, they didn’t arrive last night and they have yet to check in this morning. Do you want me to send out a search party?” The soldier timidly asked.

“Search party? Yes send one out at once! You should have sent one out last night…no, wait belay that order. Saddle me a horse…I’ll go look for them as well. I seem to remember the lake Mr. Gordon said they were going to be going to.”

“But, sir, with all due respect…” the soldier started only to be interrupted.

“Your objection is duly noted, Captain. And has been duly rejected. I fully intend to join in the search for Mr. Gordon and Mr. West. Now, you have two choices…you can either saddle me a horse and get a group of men to join me OR you can rediscover life as a private AFTER I’ve saddled my own horse and found my agents!” Grant thundered as he stared down the now shaking Captain.

“Yes, sir…right away, sir!” The Captain saluted and ran off to comply.

“Those two need to be secured in some kind of bubble!” Grant mumbled to himself as he prepared to leave, “We’re only going fishing, sir…what can happen on a simple fishing trip, sir…when I get my hands on Artemus…” Grant was grumbling to himself when an approaching soldier interrupted him.

“Mr. President, sir, your horse and the men are ready. We’ve packed some provisions as well just in case this takes longer than we think.”

“Good thinking. Where these two are concerned I am fairly certain it will take longer than we think,” Grant groaned and rolled his eyes.

Grant exited the train and mounted his horse. God, it felt good to be on a horse again! The Captain had insisted that Grant not take point so he grudgingly allowed the Captain to take the point and the soldiers brought up the rear with Grant safely tucked away in the center. What a picture this must make, Grant thought, a troupe of cavalry and the President of the United States going in search of a couple of fishermen!

Jim ducked behind the rock and thought about his next move. They were already late getting back to Phoenix and if he knew Grant like he thought he did, things were just beginning to heat up. Jim looked around the rock again and saw “Artie” throwing up for what had to be the fourth time that morning all ready. Damnit, I’ve got to figure out a way to help him. I can’t risk trying to sneak away and get help. In his present condition he could end up in real trouble, Jim decided to try and stall him until “Artie” passed out again and then he would make his move on him unless he found a better plan.

“Hardin, you still up there?” “Artie” yelled.

“Sure am, Bat. It’s gettin hot, you wanna take a break out of the sun?” Jim shouted back.

“You just don’t know when to give up do you, Hardin?”

“It doesn’t take a dummy to see that you’re in trouble, Bat. You don’t get out of this sun pretty soon, you’re liable to pass out.”

“You’d just love that wouldn’t you, Hardin? Thinkin you could take me then? I wouldn’t try it if I were you!”

To make his point clear to Jim, “Artie” fired a shot, narrowly missing him. Jim ducked back behind the rock and waited to see what ”Artie’s” next move would be. He didn’t have long to wait as he heard his friend struggling to get up the hill. Thinking fast, Jim leaned out and fired in Artie’s direction, sending him back down under the cover of the rocks.

Maybe if I can keep him pinned down long enough, Grant will get pissed that we’re late and come looking for us, Jim thought. He looked and checked on his partner and found himself ducking when a bullet whizzed past his head. This isn’t going to be easy but then nothing ever is with Artie, Jim chuckled.

The Captain rode back to the group at a high speed and dismounted as he pulled his spyglass from his uniform. He approached President Grant and handed him the spyglass. The Captain pointed to a rock hill off into the distance. Grant took the offered spyglass and looked in the direction the Captain had pointed.

“Well, there’s Mr. West at least,” Grant said, “Now we just need to locate Mr. Gordon.”

“Sir, as I rode away I could hear gun shots.”

“Gun shots? What are we waiting for?” Grant kicked his horse but the Captain held tightly to the bridle.

“Sir, I couldn’t see who Mr. West is shooting at but I thought maybe we should send a soldier up there to find out exactly what’s going on before you go barging…er…riding up. I don’t want you to ride into a potentially dangerous situation.”

“Hmm…good thinking, Captain. Send a man up there and find out what’s going on. Tell him to take no action just find out from Mr. West what’s going on and get back here yesterday!”

[Artiespet]

“Yes, sir!” The Captain issued the President’s orders and returned to his horse to wait for the results.

Several hours had passed and “Artie” hadn’t made any attempts to make a move on Jim. He poked his head around the rock and looked for his friend. He found “Artie” sitting with his back against a rock gently rubbing his injured leg, sipping from his canteen. I sure wish this heat would get to him, Jim thought, it’s sure getting to me. It’s hot as Hades up here. If I feel like jumping in the lake Artie must feel like jumping in a glacier. He’s not looking too great either; I’ve got to think of something.

Just as Jim was about to try reasoning with his friend again, he heard a noise below him and he turned to look. It was one of the cavalrymen that had been on the train. He motioned for him to be quiet and he worked his way down the hill to meet him.

“Mr. West. The President sent me up here to find out what’s going on. He decided to come lookin fer ya and, and Mr. West…he’s not happy.”

“To be honest with you I don’t really know what’s going on myself.”

“Huh, sir?” the soldier asked, confused.

“Artie had an accident while we were fishing. He’s got one hell of a concussion and some other injuries. He thinks he’s Bat Masterson and I’m John Wesley Hardin. He thinks he has to take me in and turn me over to some sheriff. Right now all I want to do is get him to a doctor and all he wants to do is shoot me and take me in draped over the saddle of his horse.”

“Oh brother, the Captain isn’t gonna believe this,” the solider commented.

“It’s not the Captain I’m worried about,” Jim replied, “how do you think the President is going to take the news?”

“The…oh Mr. West any chance you could maybe tell him? He’s liable to chew my head clean off my shoulders!”

“Sorry, Private, I have my hands full with Artie trying to give me a permanent part, you’re on your own with Grant. But tell him to hold off until I signal for him. I don’t want to scare Artie and he’s pretty jittery right now.”

“Yes, sir,” the private turned to leave when Jim stopped him.

“Private,”

“Yes, sir?” the private turned back around.

“Tell the President I hope he brought Evans with him…Artie’s gonna need him.”

“Sir?” he questioned.

“Just tell him…he’ll know what I mean.” Jim watched the soldier make his way back down the hill.


“That’s what he said, Captain, honest. I didn’t leave nothin out,” the private told his commanding officer.

“But it doesn’t make any sense, private,” he turned as Grant made his way over to him.

“What doesn’t make any sense, Captain?” he demanded to know.

“The private here just got back from talking to Mr. West. But I swear, sir, it just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe the private can explain it to me,” Grant turned to the private.

“Son, maybe you’d better tell me all about your conversation with Mr. West.”

“Well, sir, Mr. West told me that Mr. Gordon had some kind of accident when they were fishing…”

“Oh brother, why does that not surprise me?” Grant groaned, “Go on…”

“Well, sir, then Mr. West told me he was tryin to convince Mr. Gordon that he wanted to help him…”

“Convince him, what’s wrong with Artemus?” Grant asked his concern showing.

“Well, sir, he said Mr. Gordon hit his head pretty hard in his accident and well…” the private paused not wanting to continue.

“What did he say? Spit it out, man!” Grant wanted to know.

“Mr. President, sir, I don’t know how to tell you…”

“Try just opening your mouth and making words come out, Private,” The Captain interjected.

“All right, Captain, but you ain’t gonna like it.”

“Just tell us, Private, let me be the judge of whether or not I like what you have to tell me,” Grant pushed.

“Yes, sir. Well, that’s when Mr. West got real strange, sir. If I didn’t know better I’d think the sun was gettin to him. He made the weirdest comments I ever heard.”

“He told me to tell you Mr. Gordon thinks he’s Bat Masterson and he thinks Mr. West is John Wesley Hardin and that Mr. Gordon has to take him in to the law.”

“He what?” Grant asked.

“Yes, sir, that’s what he said. I guess Mr. Gordon musta hit his head really hard. And Mr. West told me Mr. Gordon has some other injuries too and to tell you that he hoped you brought Evans with you and that you’d know what that meant.”

“Damn, unfortunately I do. Private go tell Evans it’s the terrible twosome at it again and get his equipment ready but we don’t know exactly what to get ready for.”

“And tell him to keep his comments to himself,” Grant smirked as the private scurried to comply.

“Oh, sir,” the private turned back around, “Mr. West said to stay away from that hill until he signaled to you.”

“Thank you, Private,” Grant turned to the Captain, “Captain, I want you to have a few of your men ride down both ways a mile or so, far enough to be well out of Gordon’s line of sight. Have them climb those rocks and try to surround him but they are NOT under ANY circumstances to get close enough to be spotted.”

“Yes, sir, but, sir, you do know they will have to dismount when they climb those rocks.”

“Yes, Captain, I am fully aware of that, get to the point.”

“Well, sir, getting into position could take the rest of the day.”

“Hmm, you’re right…tell the men to take some rations we may need to wait until morning to move in. And Captain, tell them no fires tonight we don’t want to spook Mr. Gordon or whomever he thinks he is.”

The Captain left Grant alone by his horse as he went to carry out his orders. Artemus, my friend, what have you gotten yourself into this time? Grant wondered as he put the telescope to his eye and looked toward the hill again.


“Artie” sipped on his canteen and wiped his brow, Hardin was right; it was getting stifling the longer the day wore on. He thought about rushing Hardin but he had the drop on him and “Artie” knew he was in no shape to try that. Being up on the top of the hill was working to his advantage. Damnit, I let Hardin get the drop on me. How could I let that happen? “Artie” thought.

“I wonder if I should just listen to Hardin and let him help me,” “Artie” said to himself aloud as he checked his leg.
“Nah, I don’t need his help…I don’t need anybody’s help. Like my Great Aunt Maude always used to say…’Never take help from someone you don’t want to be owing down the road’…Okay where in blue blazes did that come from?” “Artie” sipped on his water wondering just how all these mixed up thoughts were getting into his mind.

Up on the hill, Jim looked down toward where he suspected Grant and the soldiers were. He saw the Private riding up to the hill again and went down to meet him.

“Mr. West, sir,” the Private said, “President Grant has his doctor waiting back at camp and he wanted me to let you know what they have planned,” the Private filled him in and Jim became quiet and thoughtful.

“Hmm…I’m glad you guys are here but I’m not sure that’s the right course of action to take. Private, I want you to go back to that camp and tell Grant to have the men just wait once they get into position. Don’t do anything unless I signal them. They might be handy if Artie really goes off the deep end.”

“And I want you to give this note to Dr. Evans. It details all the symptoms I’ve been able to detect in Artie and a plan I think will work if he approves of it. Ask him if there’s anything I can try to do to get through to him…I don’t want one of you soldiers taking any unnecessary pot shots at my partner.”

Jim handed the note to the Private, telling him to hurry. The Private handed him two full canteens, telling him Grant sent them figuring Jim could figure out how to get one to Artie. Jim accepted the canteens and watched as the Private scrambled back down the hill and jumped onto his horse and rode away.

I really don’t envy that Private, Jim thought, having to do that much riding in this heat. No wonder the Indians say this is cursed land. This desert is hot as Hades! Jim wiped his brow and headed back up the hill. He looked down toward his partner and shook his head. I don’t know how he does it. He’s sick as a dog yet there he sits watching and waiting for me to make a mistake. Pal, for your sake this is one time I can’t afford to make even the smallest mistake.
“Masterson!” Jim yelled.

“Yeah, Hardin, whadya want?” Jim noted he was getting grumpier.

“Just seeing if you’re still alive, Masterson!”

“I’m still here, Hardin. You ain’t gonna get rid of me that easy,” to make his point “Artie” fired a warning shot.

“I figure by now you’re about out of water, Masterson, I have some spare canteens you interested in one of em?”

“That depends, Hardin, you gonna give me the one with the poison in it?” “Artie” fired another warning shot when Jim stuck his head around the rock.

“I would never try to poison you, you’re my partner I really don’t want to break in a new one…”

“You mean you’re still toutin that tired old lie?”

“Bat, I know for a fact that President Grant is a few miles from here. I bet he’s worried about you…let’s go talk to him,” Jim hope this would draw his friend out not enrage him.

“THE President Grant?”

“The Old Man himself, pal. Whadya say we stop all this nonsense and go talk to him?”

“Hardin, that is NO way for anyone, even the likes of you, to address the President of These United States! I oughta shoot you where you stand just fer that!”

“You’re the one who usually refers to him that way, pal. And for some reason he lets you get away with it.”

“Me? I ain’t never met the man. Quit yer stallin, Hardin. Just step out from that rock and let me shoot ya so I can tie you to my saddle and be on my way.”

“Sorry, pal. Even if you don’t know who you are we do. I can wait you out a whole lot better than you can wait me out. At least take this water…you have to be out by now,” Jim tossed the canteen down toward his friend.

“Artie” looked around the rock and saw that he had tossed the canteen quite close. He leaned out with his rifle and drug the canteen back. Jim was dismayed to see the flush in his friend’s cheeks was even deeper and he was sweating profusely. He watched “Artie” pull the stopper and eagerly drink. This gave fuel to Jim’s idea and he hoped the Private would return soon so he could put his plan in motion.

The Private rode back into camp and hastily dismounted and charged over to the President’s tent and rushed inside. He recounted his conversation with Mr. West and handed the note from Jim to Grant who scanned it briefly.

“This is worse than I thought,” Grant commented as he passed the note to Evans, “Harry, what do you think?” Evans read the note.

“In my professional opinion, sir, I’d have to say that Mr. Gordon needs treatment and fast. If his accident was two days ago and he’s still throwing up that is not a good sign.”

“But what can we do? With this apparent amnesia he has I don’t think he’s going to let any of us get anywhere near him,” Grant questioned, the extreme concern evident in his voice.

“I think Mr. West’s plan is good in theory. I’m just not sure about implementing it. If Mr. Gordon is indeed as sick as this note suggests I wouldn’t dare give him anything stronger than a mild headache powder.”

“We’ve got to do something! Can’t we try to reason with him?” Grant asked.

“It sounds as if Mr. West has already tried that, sir. And as close as those two are if Mr. West can’t get through to him I don’t know who can,” Evans slowly shook his head in defeat.

“I think I know someone who can,” Grant said as he rose and called to his guards.

“Mr. President, what are you up to?” Evans wanted to know.

“You’ll see,” Grant replied with a smile as the guard entered the tent.

“Guard, saddle my horse and put some provisions in my saddle bags. Enough for three.”

“Yes, sir!” the soldier saluted Grant and quickly left.

“Tell me you aren’t going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“Now, Harry, before you get your feathers ruffled you know I’m going to do it so just go along with me. In fact COME along with me. Artemus will need you.”

“Oh, I planned to come along whether or not you permitted it. I’d just like to be let in on your little plan before it gets you blown to smithereens,” Evans glared at him.

“It’s quite simple, my dear doctor, I’m going to bring to the bargaining table the one thing a civic minded citizen like Bat Masterson could never resist. The President of These United States will pay him a visit and demand he turn his prisoner over to my men,” Evans could only stare after the shadow of the man’s quickly retreating form.

The sun was finally making its downward arc, something Jim was very glad for. A gentle breeze had begun to waft through the rocks. Jim poured a small amount of his canteen over his head to cool off when he noticed the Private approaching him. He quietly went down and met him. The expression on Jim’s face changed from one of concern to surprise as the Private detailed Grant’s plan.

“He’s WHAT?” Jim almost shouted, before remembering to lower his voice.

“That’s the President’s words, Mr. West…not mine. The Captain said he’s fixin to head up here his self and have a talk with Mr. Masterson…er…I mean Mr. Gordon…er…I mean…Mr. West just who do I mean?”

“I get the hint, Private,” Jim chuckled grateful that he wasn’t the only one confused by this whole situation.

“I think it’s too risky for Grant to come up here and I’m sure you’re Captain told him as much and I’m just as sure Grant vetoed any objection he made.”

“Yes, sir he shore did. He even told the Captain he could be a Private again if he wanted to keep arguin with him.”

“I feel sorry for your Captain,” Jim laughed, “When are the soldiers going to be in place?”

“They should be there now just waitin fer yer signal. The President told them to stay out of sight and wait until you gave them the signal to move in. I bet that’s gonna change now that Grant his self is comin.”

“I bet it will, soldier, I bet it will. All right, tell the President to get a message to the men telling them about the plan we’re going to try. Tell them to make sure they stay well out of sight…Artie sees one hair that doesn’t belong to me and they’re liable to get it shot off,” the Private left yet again with new orders to carry out.

[Artiespet]

Jim scrambled back up the rocks and braved a peek around one. “Artie” was hunched over scribbling something in the sand. Jim knew from experience what the look on his partner’s face meant…trouble for him. Uh oh, he may think he’s Bat Masterson but I have a funny feeling he’s beginning to throw a little bit of Artemus Gordon into the mix. This can’t be good, Jim knew he had to stop him and soon.

“Hey Bat!” He yelled, “Artie” stopped what he was doing and looked up.

“Yeah, Hardin, whaddya want?”

“I got a message for ya!”

“Oh yeah? From who…yer Great Aunt Maude maybe?” “Artie” chided.

“She’s your Aunt, Bat, not mine. And the answer is no…a cavalry soldier was just here telling me you’re going to get a visitor pretty soon. He’s a very important man so don’t shoot first and ask questions later, okay?” Jim tried, hoping Artie would listen to him this time, so far so good, Jim mused, no shots fired yet.

“We’ll see, Hardin. But he can’t be all that important if he’s gonna take your side,” “Artie” shouted.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, pal,” Jim yelled back.

“Why does he keep calling me pal and why does that seem to make me feel calmer?” “Artie” asked himself.

“Artie” leaned back against the rocks and stared up the hill. He didn’t quite know what to make of Hardin. He was a puzzle he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve. This Hardin is somehow different from the one I remember. When I look at him I seem to remember some one from my past who I think cared about me but…Damnit! I just wish I didn’t have all these thoughts jumbled up inside my head. It’s giving me a headache, “Artie” groaned as he closed his eye trying to make the world stop spinning.

Grant spurred his horse to pick up the pace. He wanted to set off at an all out run but he knew that wouldn’t do the horses any good not to mention the man he was rushing to help. Evans pulled up along side of him and watched his Commander in Chief as he rode onward.

Evans had made a note of the somber look on Grant’s face and the lack of sounds at all coming from the group. If he didn’t know better Evans would have thought this was a funeral procession. The only noises at all were the sounds of the horse’s hooves pounding the trail. Even the sentries whispered their reports to their Captain, not wanting to disturb the President. Evans decided someone needed to break the dreadful silence.

“Sir, we have to discuss how you intend to approach Mr. Gordon. When we reach them you can’t just barge right up there and demand he listen to you.”

“What would you suggest, Harry?”

“If you try to force his memory to return it could have dire consequences. If his memory returns contrary to the way it is supposed to he could feel threatened and react in a way that could get you both killed.”

“I don’t want to do anything to upset him, Harry, but we have to do something.”

“I know we do, Mr. President. I think Mr. West’s idea is a sound one for the most part. I can’t allow him to be drugged to the point of unconsciousness; that would be even more dangerous than trying to force his memories to come back to him.”

“Is there anything you can give him that will slow him down, not render him unconscious?” Evans thought for a moment before answering.

“There is one thing we can try but it’s risky. If I spike his water what’s to stop him from making you test it?”

“You let me worry about that. You just do whatever you can to make sure Artemus will be all right,” Grant said with a determined look on his face.

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Evans asked.

“Yes, I suppose I do.”

“Mind if I ask why?” Evans hoped he wasn’t prying.

“No, but now is not the time to go into that. Maybe you can try asking me again after this is all over,” Grant urged his horse on, preventing any further attempts Evans could make to delve into the Grant-Gordon relationship.

Jim heard the column of soldiers approaching and hoped “Artie” didn’t. He motioned for them to be quiet and was pleased when they halted and dismounted. Jim turned back toward his friend and once again peeked around the rock. “Artie” was still sitting there, leaned back against a rock, deep in thought.

Pal, I don’t know what’s going through that mixed up head of yours but I hope your visitor is about to find out, Jim thought as he pushed off the rock and made his way down the hill toward the President.

“Sir,” Jim whispered as Grant neared him.

“Why are you whispering, Mr. West?”

“What? Oh, sorry, sir. I guess I’m just a bit nervous, I don’t want Artie to hear and freak out.”

“Fully understandable, son. Now, before I head into the lion’s den why don’t YOU tell me what’s been going on here.”

Jim told Grant in detail everything that had happened since Artie’s accident, Grant wincing in parts and Evans nodding or shaking his head. When Jim told them that “Artie” was still throwing up Evans head snapped up and he looked at Jim.

“We need to put our plan into action immediately, gentlemen,” Evans replied with haste, “We’ve no time to spare.”

“What do you know that I have a feeling we might not want to know, Harry?” Grant asked, not sure he really wanted to know.

“If Mr. Gordon is still throwing up and all he is taking in is water, then that tells me he has far more than just a simple concussion.”
“Mr. West, is it possible he is running a fever?”

“I’m sure he is, Doctor, but he won’t let me get near enough to him after that first night when I bandaged him to get a good look. If you look at him his face is flushed, and he’s sweating even now, when it’s sundown and there’s a nice breeze.”

“I was afraid of that…” Evans paused.

“Well, don’t stop there man tell us the rest of it,” Grant demanded.

“I believe, now this is just supposition on my part without a thorough hands on examination mind you, that the infection has reached his blood stream. Gentlemen we may have to step up the pace a bit and force our hand.”

“Are we in time, Evans?” Grant asked almost pleadingly.

“I hope so, sir, I sincerely hope so.”

“Hardin!” “Artie” shouted, causing Jim to have to scramble quickly to get back up to the top of the hill.

“Yeah, Bat?” He answered breathlessly.

“That visitor you been blabberin about…he here yet?” Jim noted the exhaustion creeping into his partner’s voice.

“He is. You want to come up here and talk to him?”

“Nice try, Hardin, but no dice. Send him down here. And Hardin…”

“Yeah, Masterson?”

“He better show up unarmed and ALONE. Or you might not recognize what you get back.”

“All right, Masterson. He’s on his way up to me then I’ll send him down to you.”

“Mr. West,” Grant whispered, “he really IS out of his mind.”

“Yes, sir. Doctor Evans, did you mix the powders into the water?”

“Yes, but I must say I really don’t like the looks of him, Mr. West. I only put a small amount in this canteen, Mr. President, and I didn’t mix it in. I left it floating on the top so he’ll get the benefits of it even if he doesn’t drink the entire canteen.”

“You’ll have to be real good at faking it if he asks you to take a drink first, sir.”

“You leave that to me, Evans. James, in case things get out of hand down there, you do whatever it takes to keep those men from shooting Artemus.”

“Yes, sir,” Jim replied.

“Even if it means letting Artemus shoot me. You just get him out of there safely.”

“You’re the boss, sir,” Jim replied stoically, Grant just grinned.

“I hope you remember that in the future, Mr. West.” Grant grabbed the canteen and started down the hill toward Artie.

When “Artie” recognized the figure approaching him, he sprang to his feet and almost immediately fell back. He leaned against the rock and stared open mouthed as the President of These United States, Ulysses S. Grant stopped a mere two feet away from him.

“Why don’t you sit down before you fall down, son,” Grant said to him as he helped him sit on a smaller rock.

“Uh…sir…uh…er…” “Artie” couldn’t seem to find his tongue.

“Just sit down and listen to me, Arte…er…Bat, and here take a drink from my canteen…guaranteed fresh, clear and cold,” Grant said as he handed “Artie” the drug-laced water.

“Uh…yes, sir…” “Artie” replied as he took the offered canteen and drank deeply, wiping his mouth on his sleeve when he finished.

“All right then, now that the pleasantries are out of the way why don’t you tell me what all this commotion is about?” Grant sat on a rock next to him and leaned back.

“Well, sir, I have been tracking John Wesley Hardin for the better part of ten years now. I finally have him in my grasps and I just want to do my job and get him back into jail where he can’t ever get out,” Grant made note of the almost pleading tone in his voice and the pained looked on his face.

“I see. Tell me, Mr. Masterson, why do you think it’s so important for you to put him behind bars and see that he stays there?” A glimmer of an idea was beginning to form in Grant’s mind and he decided this was an avenue worth pursuing.

“That’s just it, sir. I’m not really sure why it’s so important. I just know it is. I mean have you ever done something over and over again no matter what it took; no matter what it cost you just because you knew it was the right thing to do? That’s what it’s like between me and Hardin.”

[Artiespet]

“Yes, son, I know the feeling. You should come with me to a congressional session some day. Talk about doing the same thing over and over and feeling like you’re getting nowhere,” Grant chuckled.

“Yes, sir, I do imagine you have your hands full with that,” “Artie” frowned.

“I keep trailing him and putting him behind bars because I just know it’s the right thing to do, it’s what I was meant to do,” “Artie” was almost on the brink of tears.

Evans and Jim stood at the top of the hill, waiting for the medicine to take effect. Jim wishing it would hurry its way through his partner’s veins and Evans wondering if he had gotten enough or not. Thinking quickly, Evans motioned to Grant to get him to drink more of the tainted water. Grant nodded imperceptibly and handed “Artie” the canteen and urged him to drink as they continued to talk.

Evans watched the exchange below with interest. He knew that this “Artie” was an entirely different person than the one Grant was used to talking to…but that didn’t seem to be stopping him. Grant was carrying on a conversation with this “Artie” in much the same way he would talk to his Artie. Jim just wished the medicine would take effect so they could get his friend the help he so desperately needed.

“Mr. West, how long has Mr. Gordon’s head wound been leaking like that?” Evans asked startling him.

“I don’t think it’s ever really stopped to tell you the truth, why is that a problem?”

“In this heat it could very well be. I think I know what’s making Mr. Gordon so ill and if I’m right we have to get him away from those rocks as soon as possible.”

“Why? Do you mean me trapping him here is what made him so sick?” Jim felt crushed.

“Don’t blame yourself, Mr. West. You did the best you could under the circumstances. The rocks store heat during the day and release it at night. Basically acting like a heater of sorts. With the injury to Mr. Gordon’s head and I am suspecting his leg as well, that heat is sealing the infection into his wounds.”

“See that yellowish liquid oozing from his head wound? It’s the infection mutating.”

“Mutating? Is it serious? I mean can it…” Jim didn’t dare finish the sentence.

“No, Mr. West, it won’t kill your partner…at least not right away. But I believe that is perpetuating the amnesia and causing the hysteria you described earlier.”

“Then let’s go down there and get him out!” Jim pushed off the rock and headed toward his friend only to be stopped by Evans.

“No, Mr. West. If you approach him too quickly, you’ll panic him and before any of those soldiers can react he could kill the President, you or even himself.”

“Then what do you suggest? You just said being in those rocks is making him sick…we have to do something,” Jim pleaded.

“We are doing something, Mr. West. We are doing the hardest job of all…we are watching and waiting while the President talks to your friend and hopefully gets him to see reason while waiting for the medication to do its job,” they turned their attention back to the conversation down the hill.

“So, sir, you have to see my point. I mean why keep doing it if he just keeps getting away?” “Artie” intoned, how like my Artemus this man is, Grant thought.

“That’s simple to explain, son. You do the job your country asks of you when you put on your badge and you go after these men. You do your job when you bring them back and put them in jail to stand trial for their crimes.”

“But you also have to understand something. Arte…uh…Bat, your job stops once you have put these criminals safely behind bars in the hands of the law. You can’t hold yourself responsible for some dumbassed jury letting men like Hardin go free.”

“Think of it this way, Masterson. The court system is to blame if these men get out and go on rampages, robbing, killing and terrorizing innocent people…NOT you or any other lawman or Secret Service Agent who feels as you do,” “Artie’s” head snapped up at the mention of a Secret Service Agent, Grant noticed this and pressed on.

“Son, as hard as it is for you to admit…you have to know I’m right. I have a Secret Agent who works for me that feels the very same way you do. No matter what anyone says to him, even his partner whom he trusts implicitly, can get through to this man.”

“Why don’t you just sit him down and tell him what you’ve been telling me, sir? I think I understand things better now. He would too.”

“Yes, Arte…uh…Bat, I think I will have this same talk with him. When he’s feeling up to it and a bit more like his old self,” Grant said with a faraway look in his eye.

Grant took in “Artie’s” hollow, sunken eyes and his fever flushed cheeks and the tired, worn out look on his face and knew he had to work fast to get him to relax so the medicine could do its job. He handed “Artie” the canteen and coaxed him to drink more.

“Sir, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to get me to drink drugged water,” “Artie” crooked his head and looked at Grant.

“No, son, I just want to help you. Right now I can’t help my friend like I so desperately want to so I’d like to help you if you’d let me.”

“Well, sir, you ARE the President of These United States, I can’t rightly say no to you can I? I am feelin a might poorly but I have to get Hardin back to Phoenix first.”

“Son, you sure you aren’t related to Artemus Gordon? His one track mind is as bad as yours seems to be,” Grant smiled.

“But I tell you what…you come with me and I’ll have some of my men look after Hardin, okay?” Grant said as he rose off the rock and grabbed for “Artie’s” arm.

“Well, if you can’t trust the President who can you trust?” “Artie” grinned as he extended his arm.

“Well, son, I know one man you can trust with your life and eventually you’ll remember too,” Grant replied as he motioned to Jim who signaled to the troops to close in.


EPILOG

Three long days later, Jim stood outside the door to Artie’s room. Evans had been keeping him apprised of his friend’s condition. Jim stood in front of the door with a heavy heart. Artemus had regained most of his memory and was getting more and more back with every passing day. President Grant had been there to see him several times, but every time Jim inquired if he could go in the answer was always a resounding no.

What if I’ve done something to make Artie hate me? What could I possibly have done? Jim asked himself as he stared at the doorknob. What if I go in here and it sends Artie back off the deep end? I’d rather let him go and try to get on with my life without my best friend than to risk hurting him any further. Jim just stared at the door twirling his hat in his hands.

“You have to go in sometime, son,” Jim dropped his hat, startled, picked it up and came face to face with Grant.

“Uh, hello, sir.”

“Hello, James. I repeat…you have to go in there some time. Whether or not Artemus thinks he wants to see you.”

“But sir, he’s made it perfectly clear he doesn’t want to see me,” Jim commented.

“James, come here for a moment,” Grant gestured toward a bench in the hallway.

“I think I know why Artemus refuses to see you and that’s why I’m stepping in and pulling rank, so to speak.”

“Why, sir? I’ve been wracking my brain for the past three days…trying to figure out what I did to hurt Artie so badly that he wouldn’t want to see me. If you know something, please tell me,” Jim pleaded.

“Son, you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s Artemus. He thinks he wronged you for the way he treated you while he had amnesia…”

“But that wasn’t his fault! How can he think I would hold anything he said or did against him? He’s my partner for Pete’s sake,” Jim looked at his friend’s door with sorrow written all over his features.

“Son, that is exactly why you MUST go in there, against Artemus’ wishes. Someone has to make him see that he didn’t fail you…that he didn’t let you down. And I think you are the only man for that job.”

“James, you can make him listen to reason. You can make him see that you don’t harbor any ill will toward him. Only you can help him take the last step toward healing and become the Artemus Gordon we all know and love.”

“I’ll do my best, sir. But you know Artie…he never makes anything easy,” Jim smiled as he rose and walked toward the door.

“I know, Mr. West, oh brother do I know!”

Jim slowly opened the door and entered the room. Its occupant was seated in a wheelchair beside the window watching the rain pour down in buckets. They had narrowly missed the beginning of the monsoon season and it had been raining almost non-stop for the past two days.

Jim quietly approached his friend and tossed his hat onto the bed. Artie caught the movement out of the corner of his eye but made no movement to make eye contact with his partner. Jim walked around the bed and perched on the edge. He took in his partner’s solemn expression as he stared out the window.

“Well, pal, one of us has to say something…” Jim said hoping to draw his partner out of his protective shell.

“Yeah, I know,” came the quiet reply.

“Artie…” Jim began, “Grant told me…”

“He had no business telling you anything,” Artie snapped.

“Maybe not as President but as your friend and mine he sure as hell did.”

Artie slowly rose from the chair and, ignoring Jim, limped, somewhat painfully, to the bed and sat down. Oh if Artie thinks he’s going to play this his way he better think again, Jim thought, I want my partner back and I want him back now.

“Artie…I don’t care who told me why you have refused to see me. I’m just glad someone had the guts to tell me what you wouldn’t,” Jim glared at his partner.

“Jim…I…” Artie began and paused not really knowing what to say.

“Say it, Artie. Just say it,” Jim hoped making him mad would get his friend to confront his true feelings.

“Say what, Jim? That I let my best friend down? That I tried to kill my partner? That I was so out of my mind I couldn’t tell it was you? Those are all petty excuses and you know it!” Good, he’s getting mad, Jim almost smirked.

“Yeah, Artie…if that’s what you’re feeling. Say it! Yeah I know you tried to kill me but pal, you didn’t let me down. You never could even if you weren’t yourself.”

“What do you think I did, Jim?” Artie was on the verge of putting his heart back on his sleeve where Jim felt it belonged.

“You did what you thought you had to at the time. Artie, I can’t and don’t blame you for anything you did. If anything I blame myself.”

“Blame yourself? Why you didn’t try to kill me or hurt me…did you?” Artie crooked an eyebrow at him quizzically.

“No! What I did was far worse. I let my partner down when he really needed me,” Artie looked at him and the walls fell away.

“Aww, Jim…how could you have let me down?”

“I saw how sick you were…I should have done something to get you out of those rocks and into this hospital a lot sooner than I did.”

“James, according to Dr. Evans you did everything right. If you had tried to make a move on me any sooner than you did I could have killed one or both of us.”

“Yeah, I know what Dr. Evans said…” Jim began when Artie started laughing, causing Jim to stare at him.

“Are you okay, pal?” Jim asked.

“Yeah, Jim I’m perfectly fine now. Get a load of us. Both of us punishing ourselves for the past three days for the same thing. What a couple of nutjobs we are, huh?” Artie shook his head and grinned at his friend.

“Yeah, pal, I guess we are at that,” Jim smiled, glad to have his friend back.

Evans and Grant chose that moment to enter the room. Grant walked over to the window and stood there looking out while Evans performed a cursory examination of Artie and pronounced he was on the road to recovery but would require a few more days in the hospital, Artie’s groans and pleas for help bringing a smile to Grant’s face.

“Now, now, Artemus…don’t look for or expect any help from us,” Grant smiled at him, “we both had to promise we would go along with anything Dr. Evans said just to gain admittance to your room,” Grant winked at Evans.

“Yeah, pal, besides I’ve checked Phoenix out and we were right. There isn’t much here in the way of nightlife,” Jim winked at him.

“Oh that’s too bad for you then, Jim,” Artie grinned.

“Me? Why’s that, pal?” Jim asked.

“Oh no, pal o’ mine, you aren’t getting out of it that easy! I seem to remember you saying I won the bet. But I’ll go easy on you and let you wait till we get back to Washington to pay up,” Artie had an ear to ear grin on his face and Grant couldn’t help but laugh.

“Now he remembers something I told him,” Jim rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Yep, champagne, lovely ladies and the thickest steak the loser’s money can buy was the bet I believe.”

‘Wait, steak was never part of the deal…” Evans and Grant just exchanged grins and rolled their eyes.

“Well, I added the steak…I feel it’s the least you can do for your partner. After all I have suffered at the hands of fate…” Artie used his best stage voice.

“Oh brother…doc, isn’t there something we can do to him…er I mean for him?” Jim grinned.

“Well, I do think you gentlemen should leave so he can rest. That’s about all I can do for him right now, Mr. West. I don’t believe there is anything science has come up with that can deal with that ego problem he has.”

Artie stared open mouthed at the men as they laughed. He rolled his eyes and allowed Jim to help him get under the covers and situated in the bed. Evans told him to get some rest and Jim would be allowed to visit again tomorrow. He also warned him to leave the nurses alone…several had already threatened to quit if someone didn’t get Artemus and his roving hands under control.
After the men left, Artie looked out the window and watched the rain for a while contemplating the events of the past few days.

What he remembered, of course. He had wanted the missing pieces filled in but Evans had ruled against that. He said Artie’s memories had to come back on their own and now that he was well on the road to recovery Evans had assured him that given time they would return.

Artie smiled, turned onto his side and closed his eyes, a smile on his face. As far as he was concerned the most important memory had returned and he didn’t care if he never got any of the others back. Artie had his friend and partner back and that was all that really mattered to him. As long as Jim was by his side Artie knew all would be right with the world and no matter how many times they had to put Loveless back in prison it would be all right as long as Jim was there where he belonged and their friendship was where it belonged.

THE END