The Night of the Ordeal

[California gal]

THE NIGHT OF THE ORDEAL

We were young, we were merry, we were very, very wise,
And the door stood open at our feast,
When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes,
And a man with his back to the East.
—Unwelcome, Mary Elizabeth Coleridge (1861-1907), English poet, novelist, and essayist

Artemus Gordon glanced behind him as he leaned forward to stroke the quivering flesh of the chestnut’s neck. “Jim, we need to find some shelter!”

Now Jim West twisted in the saddle to look at the hideous black clouds that were amassing in the sky behind and above them. The wind was already whipping dust, leaves and small branches from the area around them, striking both man and beast, which accentuated the nervousness of the horses. The rumble of thunder was growing louder; they had witnessed several lightning strikes in the vicinity, moving closer and closer.

“I agree!” he called over the increasingly loud roar of the onrushing storm. “Where?”

Artie just shook his head and urged his horse forward. This is crazy! Northern California doesn’t have storms like this! Not in the summer! He had already said that aloud, and Jim had concurred. They had been in this area previously, more than once, the region between the ocean and the eastern mountains north of San Francisco, closing in on the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. In winter the rain could be torrential, and high winds and lightning were not unknown. But not in summer.

They were in a hilly area, heading towards Marysville in order to intercept the Wanderer which would be waiting on a siding near that town—with Colonel James Richmond as its passenger. The colonel wanted to have a meeting with his agents before returning to Washington and a appointment with his superior, President Grant. The two agents had just finished a relatively simple—for once—job in Eureka and were hoping that Richmond was going to tell them they could have some time off. He expected them by this evening.

“Artie!” Jim yelled, pointing. “That looks like a cave!”

Artie gazed in the direction his friend indicated, and immediately turned his horse toward it. The depth of the cave was not apparent from this point, but as the saying went, any shelter in a storm. The lightning they had seen was probably the most dangerous aspect of the oncoming weather. As far as they could tell, streaks were hitting the ground and tearing up trees, abetted by the extremely strong wind.

The cave was part way up a low hill, and they gained it without difficulty, the route being clear. Jim was relieved to see that it extended at least twenty feet into the hillside, and its height was enough for men and horses to be comfortable. They led the unsettled horses to the back and unsaddled them. Jim then hurried outside to gather up some wood which he brought in to start a fire, while Artie used water from their canteens to prepare a pot of coffee.

By that time the storm appeared to be over top of them. The thunder was earsplitting, the wind howling like the proverbial banshee, the cracks of lightning like cannons. Add into that the breaking of the limbs and small trees as the wind and lightning assailed them, and the noise was such that conversation was kept at a minimum. The two men spread their blankets and waited. Occasionally one or the other got up to go comfort the still shaky horses. Jim thought he had never seen his steed so unsettled. Blackjack was a spirited horse, but he was also a courageous creature. Weather rarely bothered him. Even the more staid Mesa was jumpy. Both had displayed signs of nerves even before the men were aware of the storm that was encroaching.

“This is crazy,” Artie said as he leaned over to freshen his cup of coffee from the pot. “Weather like this doesn’t occur in this part of California.”

“You mentioned that,” Jim retorted with a quick grin, then nodded. “Must be some freak of nature. With any luck it won’t last long.”

Their luck did not hold. Minutes dragged into hours as the weather raged outside the cave. They heard and saw whole trees being split by lightning and torn asunder by the howling wind. Artie thought it sounded like the storm had perched itself atop them and was staying there, just as it had seemed to chase them through the hills. Almost as though it waited to imprison us in this cave and now keeps us here!

He knew the idea was preposterous, and he did not speak it aloud. He could see that Jim was as perturbed as he was. They had faced blizzards in the Rockies and Sierra, a tornado in the plains, hurricanes on both the Gulf and Atlantic coasts, as well as California winter storms, but never anything like this. He kept expecting rain to pour down but it never did. Only the wind, lightning, and thunder.

Despite the noise and turmoil, Artie dozed off for a while, awakening when a particularly loud clap of thunder sounded. He saw Jim’s blanket was vacant and looked around to see his partner calming the horses. Artie pulled out his watch and held it against the faint light emanating through the cave’s opening.

“Jim, it’s been nearly four hours!” The sun was in its downward arc into the west; they would have difficulty keeping their appointment even if they were able to depart immediately. James Richmond was a patient man, and an excellent supervisor, but he did not abide lateness without truly excellent excuses. Maybe this one was one!

Jim came back to the blankets but did not lay down. “I know. And it shows no signs of letting up. We may have to…”

He stopped speaking because abruptly the storm’s din ceased. He stared at the opening of the cave, where the sun just as unexpectedly was brightly shining… and a form had just appeared. He automatically reached for and pulled his weapon as Artie jumped to his feet, gaping as well. Jim now saw that the figure was female.

She was young, probably in her mid twenties, with hair like spun gold that tumbled over her shoulders and glowed in the sun, her figure slender but womanly. The dress she wore was rather plain, fashioned from calico that might have once been bright but now was faded after much wearing and washings.

“Hello.”

Jim slowly lowered and holstered his gun. “Where did you come from?” She did not have the appearance of one who had just been battered by the wind and lightning, her hair lying in soft waves rather than being tousled.

“I’ve come with a message,” she said. Her voice was soft and reminded Jim of shallow water flowing over rocks. Soothing.

“From whom?” Artie asked. He had not drawn his gun but he was ready. Too many times had such innocent-appearing persons lured them into traps.

“The doctor wishes you to come to Halcyon.”

The agents exchanged glances. “Dr. Loveless?” Jim asked sharply.

She ignored the query as she had all previous. “The doctor wishes you to come immediately. It’s important to the future.”

Artie frowned. “Whose future?”

“Where is he?” Jim put in.

This question she responded to. “In Halcyon. You will find it an hour’s ride south. When you see the waterfall, turn toward the setting sun.”

“Wait a minute, no waterfall is in…” Artie’s words trailed away as the young woman disappeared as suddenly as she had appeared. Almost as though she vanished into thin air; however, he knew that was not possible. He stepped out through the opening and looked around.

Jim followed. “Where is she?”

Artie shook his head. “I don't know. Jim, there are not even any footprints!” He was looking down at the soft earth just outside the cave’s entrance.

Jim looked as well to see what his partner meant. The wind had scoured any previous markings made by themselves and their horses; the surface was still smooth. He stared around at the battered landscape. Leaves, twigs, and larger limbs were strewn everywhere. “She’s got to be around here somewhere.” He glanced up at the sky, which was now crystal blue and cloudless. The wind was a soft zephyr. How had the clouds vanished so quickly? They should at least be on the horizon.

They searched for about fifteen minutes. Not only did they not see the young woman, but also they found no sign that she had been there, not her footprints, nor that of another horse or even a wagon. Both were silent as they saddled their horses and led them outside. Finally Jim spoke.

“Some new trick of Loveless’s?”

Artie sighed. “I have no clue, James. None. I do know there is no such town as Halcyon. Not in this part of California. At least one wasn’t where she described the last time we were through here—and that was just six months ago! And no waterfall in this area either.”

He climbed into the saddle, taking a last look at the cave that had sheltered them. He would have liked to believe he was still sleeping, dreaming all that had occurred, but the feel of the saddle underneath him was too real. No, the woman had appeared. The storm had abated with an implausible suddenness. If not for the damage seen around them, they might believe the storm had been a figment of their imagination as well.

They had traveled this route any number of times and were relatively familiar with it. Two things Jim was just as certain of as was his partner. One was that no town of that name had been in this vicinity a few months ago. The other was the waterfall. While some water, primarily in the form of narrow streams, was located in the region, none had a waterfall. At least none that was visible along the regularly traveled route.

The appearance of the woman had been stunning. Not only her sudden emergence at the cave’s opening and her equally sudden vanishing but simply her beauty. Her features had been perfect, her figure sublime. Because of the shadows caused by the sun being behind her, he was uncertain of the color of her eyes, but thought they were blue. Add in the musical softness of her voice… he thought he had never seen a woman more lovely.

“Jim, look!” Artie pulled his chestnut to a halt, staring.

The black horse stopped of its own accord alongside and Jim gazed in the same direction. There, next to the path they had traveled so often, was a waterfall. Sparkling water tumbled out over some rocks into a clear, sparkling pool. Jim dismounted and walked toward it, vaguely conscious that both his horse and his partner were following.

“Artie, this was never here before.”

“I know,” Artie said in a low voice. “Even more interesting… where does the water come from?” The liquid appeared to be gushing from a higher rock, yet no stream was behind it. “Is it possible the water has been underground and finally broke through? Perhaps an earthquake…”

Jim was shaking his head. “At this point, I don’t think I want to even speculate.” He looked around. “She said to turn toward the setting sun.”

“West,” Artie murmured, and had an odd and unusual premonition. Somehow the direction had significance. He did not normally experience such feelings, but he knew without question that the direction and his partner’s name were important in whatever was going on here.

“Is it Loveless?” Jim asked aloud as they remounted.

Artie could only shake his head. “We’ve known a few other ‘doctors.’ But I don't know of any with the genius to be manipulating the weather and causing water to spout from solid rock. Or seemingly so. Not even Miguelito.”

“Yeah.”

The way toward the west was not a defined trail, but they were able to ride among trees and hillsides, with a few scattered boulders, and keep to a western heading, directly toward the rapidly setting sun. They rode slowly, always wary.

“Do you hear that?” Jim asked after they had been riding for about half an hour.

Artie nodded. The sounds were faint, but they were unmistakable. Someone—several people—were talking and laughing. The noise grew louder the further they rode, then silenced just as they approached a low hill.

“It’s on the other side,” Artie murmured. He knew without doubt that he was frightened. It was a different kind of fear than any he had experienced in his life. Not a paralyzing fear as he had had to overcome to walk on stage the first time, or to enter his first battle. Not the panic he had once felt when challenged to fight the school bully. He had overcome that panic as well, and won the fight—although he earned a scolding from both the teacher and his father. He had always thought his father had been secretly proud…. No, this was something else. Something indefinable.

“Let’s reconnoiter,” Jim suggested, and both men dismounted, tying off the horses before they climbed the hill. Some bushes at the apex gave them some shelter as they peered down the other side.

Several other hills of approximately the same height as this one formed a bowl down below, and in that bowl lay a number of buildings, laid out on either side of a wide and dusty street. In many ways the town resembled most of the other villages they had encountered in their travels, yet it was different. Artie tried to figure out what that difference was. The architecture appeared the same—wooden buildings, some two stories, some with false fronts. Signs were posted on most of the buildings, but from this distance only a couple were legible. One was a restaurant and the other read “The Doctor’s Office.” Perhaps it was because all the buildings were in good repair, painted, the porches swept. In most towns at least a couple of buildings were shabby.

“That must be our destination,” Jim stated. “Not like Loveless to be so flagrant. He’s generally much more subtle.”

“I have the distinct sense,” Artie commented as they walked back to their horses, “that Loveless is not a part of this. Problem is, I have no idea who it would be and why he would want to see us?”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

“Jim,” Artie said abruptly as they mounted. “I didn’t see any people!” Yet they had heard people just minutes ago. At least he thought they had.

“I noticed that. No horses either. But it sure doesn’t look like a ghost town.”

Riding back to the route between the hills, they continued slowly onward into the town, their eyes taking in the windows and roofs of the buildings, alert for the danger of snipers. At first they saw no one, but as they rode past the first building, Artie spotted a man standing in a doorway. The man was smiling; he nodded in a friendly and welcoming manner. Artie tentatively nodded back.

As they got further into the town, more people were evident, beginning to step out onto the porches of the buildings. Like the first one they were smiling and appeared hospitable. The one thing Jim noticed that he thought odd was that the various buildings had signs, like the one for the doctor’s office, that simply identified the building as “The Mercantile,” or “The Barber Shop.” None had the names of their owners as one might expect to see, or would see, in other towns.

At least, he mused, thus far, no sign of Loveless! He had to concur that Artie was correct when he perceived that this did not have Loveless’s stamp on it.

The residents of Halcyon all appeared to be rather young. No one appeared to be much more than thirty. All were neatly garbed, even if the attire appeared somewhat worn. The warm smiles remained on their faces as they watched the riders, and those they passed started moving along with them, remaining on the board walkways. Artie thought that they seemed to be waiting for someone—or something.

Both saw the man who stepped out of The Doctor’s Office. They also saw the young woman who followed him. The same woman who had brought them the message at the cave! They looked at each other, and Jim knew his partner had the same thoughts: how did she get here ahead of them without them seeing her? If she lives here, Artie considered, she could know a shortcut. But…

The man was tall and slender, with snow-white hair that he wore rather long, brushing the collar of his white shirt under the black frock coat. His face, however, was that of a much younger man, unlined. Like the woman now standing slightly behind him, he had clear blue eyes. He smiled broadly.

“Mr. West, Mr. Gordon, welcome to Halcyon. We are delighted to have you here.” His voice was deep and resonant.

“I’m afraid you have us at a disadvantage, sir,” Artie replied with a smile. “Doctor…?”

“Dr. Alpheus,” the man replied. “Please dismount. Your horses will be tended. I’m sure you are weary and hungry after your long day.”

“First tell us how you know us, and why you wanted to see us,” Jim said quietly. At least no one appears to be armed. Not the ones we can see anyway!

“I don’t blame you for being cautious,” Alpheus said genially. “It’s difficult for me to explain how I know your names. But if you’ll come inside, I’ll be happy to tell you why I summoned you.” He glanced back at the woman. “Perdita, is the meal prepared?”

“Yes, doctor,” she replied, her eyes on Jim, “The table is laid.”

“Then step down, gentlemen. You will not want to miss one of Perdita’s meals. She is our finest cook and she labored all afternoon preparing the feast.”

Again the agents looked at each other, sharing the same thoughts. Perdita had not spent all afternoon in the kitchen! Either that or she had a twin sister. They dismounted then, their eyes sweeping over their surroundings, but seeing nothing amiss. No one was making a threatening move. No rifle barrels peeked over rooftops or out the corner of windows.

The men and women who had gathered around their horses remained where they were as Jim and Artemus followed Dr. Alpheus and Perdita in through the door. The front rooms of the building were, it seemed, the doctor’s working area, with a small waiting room and a door that probably opened into his office. But they were led toward the back, and into a dining room, where a table was set for three.

Alpheus invited them to sit down, taking their hats to hang on a nearby rack. Perdita went through another door, and soon returned with a platter of fried chicken. On subsequent trips she brought potatoes and vegetables, and then coffee. It was a casual, serve-yourself setting, but although both agents put food on their plate, both waited until the doctor began eating. The food came from the same plates and bowls, so they felt reasonably assured it was not drugged or poisoned.

“Doctor,” Artie said after a few minutes, “are you going to explain how you know us and why you asked us to come here? Is there trouble you want us to look into?”

Alpheus lowered his coffee cup to the saucer. “As to how I know you… you two have a reputation. Everyone has heard of you.”

“How did you know we would be in that cave?” Jim inquired.

“And you merit that reputation,” Alpheus smiled. “Your questions will be answered in due time, gentlemen. We have much to do.”

Jim glanced at Artie, then asked, “What does that mean?”

“Please just enjoy the meal, Mr. West. A room has been prepared upstairs for both of you. Tomorrow morning will be time enough, although I will admit time is limited.”

“We have an appointment,” Artie spoke, a little sharpness in his tone. “I’m afraid we cannot stay the night.”

Alpheus was unperturbed. “Of course you can. The hour is late. When you leave here, you would ride an hour or two, then be forced to camp for the night. Why not remain here, sleep in comfortable beds, and enjoy more of Perdita’s cooking in the morning?”

They had to agree that made sense. No moon would be available to light their way on this night. They would not be able to reach the Wanderer until morning anyway. Both were filled with curiosity about this town and its residents. Something’s off, Artie decided. But he did not know what that was. Something more than Perdita’s strange and sudden appearance at the cave and the manner in which the storm ceased just prior to that moment. All that could be coincidence. She could have returned to Halcyon ahead of them merely because she knew the area and perhaps rode more swiftly. They had moved cautiously and relatively slowly.

We can’t leave, Jim decided, until we know what the devil this is all about. Something lurked in the depths of Alpheus’s blue eyes. Jim thought at times amusement appeared in those eyes, then another time he wondered if he saw menace.

The remainder of the meal continued without incident. Both agents attempted to ask questions about Halcyon, pointing out that they had not encountered the town on previous trips through the area, but Alpheus adroitly evaded direct answers, saying merely that Halcyon was such a small town it was easily overlooked. He himself had lived in the town for many years.

One thing Artie noticed was a familiar sight: lovely young Perdita’s almost constant attention toward Jim West. She did not flirt with him, as so many of her sex would have done in this situation. Instead, Artie thought, her gaze was one of wistful longing. Even when Jim smiled at her, she did not smile back. Somehow his smile made her even sadder.

No explanation was given regarding Perdita’s status in the doctor’s household. One had to assume she was his housekeeper. He had not introduced her as a relative; not wife, sister, daughter, or anything else. She was simply Perdita, with no further elaboration.

The meal completed, Dr. Alpheus led them into a small room, obviously a study, filled with books, furnished comfortably, with a window that overlooked a small flower garden. He poured brandy and then revealed that he knew an extraordinary amount concerning their past and personal lives, congratulating Artemus on his engagement to Lily Fortune, stating that he possessed a great admiration and envy regarding Jim’s exploits as a cavalry officer during the late war. Dr. Loveless was mentioned briefly, along with several other criminals the pair had met over their careers. Again, Alpheus adeptly sidestepped any attempts to learn more about him or Halcyon.

Jim was disappointed that he did not see Perdita again during the evening. He was more than a little intrigued by the woman, and not simply due to her obvious beauty. He was accustomed to the attention women paid toward him, welcomed it, and usually reciprocated. During dinner he had attempted to capture Perdita’s attention, perhaps engage her in conversation, but the best he got from her was a slight, almost sad, smile. He thought she might have felt constrained by the circumstances, if she was Alpheus’s employee. That had not stopped other women, however. Perhaps she was simply shy… No, he was certain that was not the reason. Nor had he seen fear in her blue eyes.

Jim knew that he and Artie had a lot to talk about, and he was almost relieved when Alpheus showed them upstairs at a relatively early hour, again with the statement that he knew they had had a long day, and tomorrow might be a strenuous one. Jim wanted to talk to his partner.

Neither was surprised to see their saddlebags on the two beds in the room. Artie glanced around the sparsely furnished but comfortable appearing room. “Well, James?”

“I have no idea,” Jim replied, unfastening his gun belt and laying it on one of the beds. He went to the room’s lone window and peered out. “I didn’t notice any fog earlier, did you?”

Puzzled, Artemus joined his partner at the window. The view was the rear of the building lit by the rising full moon. A small vegetable garden was just below, and several small outbuildings beyond that. Further out, perhaps a hundred yards distant, was what appeared to be a large and solid fogbank. “Odd that such fog would be this far inland. But perhaps it’s related to whatever caused that storm today.” He looked at his partner.

“Artie…” Jim had stepped away from the window, and his frown was deep.

“I know,” Artie sighed. “I know. There is something… strange here. I don’t even know what is so strange, beyond the fact that we were unaware this town existed. Perhaps that’s not impossible. We never left the main trail in this area.”

“The waterfall…”

“Yeah.” The explanation that it had been caused by an earthquake seemed weak. A very large quake would have been needed to rupture rock in order that water would flow out, and no such large quakes had been reported from this area. Artie went to his bed and sat down, began tugging on his boots. “What bothers me is this doctor. Who is he, Jim? Why does he know so much about us? And why? He even knew about my pharmaceutical background, from when I was a kid!”

“Yeah.” Jim did not pull off his boots, only removing his coat before laying down alongside the holstered pistol. Alpheus had spoken of Jim’s brief experience as a university student as a prelude to mentioning the war years. He had not said anything about Nevin West, or even Matthew, though Jim had the distinct impression Alpheus knew about his father and brother. Something in the way he had gazed toward the younger agent revealed understanding and perhaps sympathy. He tucked the pillow up under his head. “What’s this about, Artie? I don’t sense any real menace, yet…”

Artie knew Jim did not expect a lucid response. There was none at this moment. “Maybe we’ll find out in the morning….” He stared toward the window, eyes widening. “Jim… there should not be a full moon tonight!”

Jim swung off the bed, striding toward the window, where he peered out. There it was, the big silvery orb of a full moon, resting just above the fogbank. He turned back. “It was quarter last night.”

Artie let out a long breath through half closed lips. “Jim, this is… I can’t even explain it.”

“Yeah. It’s as though we’ve… we’ve entered another world.” That was all Jim could say as he returned to the bed.

[California gal]

W*W*W*W*W

But shapes that come not at an earthly call,
Will not depart when mortal voices bid.
—Dion (V), William Wordsworth (1770-1850), English poet

“I didn’t expect to sleep that well,” Artie commented as Jim moved to take his turn at the mirror and the hot water to shave. Neither had mentioned the fact that the pitcher of steaming water had been waiting for them when they awakened. Someone had obviously entered the room, undetected. That was a bit unnerving for two men who were accustomed to being alert, even while sleeping.

Jim looked at his partner’s reflection in the mirror. “I know.” He had lain down fully garbed, his weapon close at hand; Artemus had removed his boots, but otherwise remained clothed, also keeping his gun at his side. Suddenly, it had seemed, he had opened his eyes to the sunlight streaming in the window. “The fogbank is still out there.”

“I know,” Artie echoed. He had looked out the window too. The sun was bright, but the fog lingered on the outskirts of the town. He pulled on his boots, then stood up and fastened the gun belt. “At least they haven’t tried to disarm us.”

“I noticed that. I won’t even ask what it means.”

Artie chuckled softly. “You wouldn’t get an answer anyway!” He sobered then. “I want to know what Alpheus meant when he said this could be a strenuous day.”

Jim turned, wiping his face with the soft towel. “Artie, I think we had best make our excuses and get the hell out of here as soon as possible.”

Artie stood up, gazing him. “Do you think they’ll let us?”

“We still have the guns,” Jim replied firmly.

Artie just nodded, waiting while Jim finished dressing. They had not seen a sign of a weapon yesterday, yet they really had not seen any part of the town other than the buildings’ exteriors and here in Alpheus’s office and house. The people had appeared pleasant for the most part, even eager to have visitors. Artie remembered that sense he had that the citizens were anticipating something. What?

Perdita was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. She smiled that sad smile and nodded, then led them into the dining room again, briefly explaining that the doctor would not be joining them for breakfast.

“Why don’t you sit and talk to us, Perdita?” Artie invited with a warm smile.

“I… thank you, but I have… chores. I’ll bring your food.” She fled through the door.

She returned moments later with plates of eggs and ham, and was about to return to the kitchen when Jim reached out and grasped her wrist. “Perdita… what’s going on here?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” Artie said firmly. “There is something… different about Halcyon. What is it? Is Dr. Alpheus keeping you all here against your will?”

“Oh, no, no!” Her blue eyes widened in astonishment. “No, Dr. Alpheus is our leader. He protects us. He always has, from the first moment the… for always.”

Jim had not been holding her wrist firmly and now she jerked free and hurried to the kitchen. When she returned she was carrying a hot coffeepot, and Artie almost smiled to realize she was, in a sense, using it as protection. They would not try to manhandle her with that pot in her hands! But neither did she respond to their questions. She returned to the kitchen and did not reappear until they were finishing.

“The doctor wishes you to meet him in the tavern.”

“The tavern? It’s a little early for a drink, isn’t it?” Jim glanced at his partner as he spoke.

“Please go there. It is across the way.”

Feeling they really had no choice at this moment, they exited from the doctor’s home and crossed the street to the building bearing the sign “The Tavern.”

“So odd,” Artie murmured, “that none of the businesses have the owner’s name on the sign.”

“Maybe they trade businesses now and then,” Jim offered with a slight smile.

Artie did not reply. The same thought had occurred to him as being a possibility. That would be incredibly unusual, and strange. If someone was ready to quit a business, he usually sold it, not swapped it.

Jim abruptly halted in the middle of the street. “The fog is all around.”

Artie looked. He had not noticed this previously, his attention on the buildings. But Jim was right. The fog bank they had viewed from their room’s window surrounded the town. It looked dark and… impenetrable. “Strange weather phenomenon,” he murmured.

“If you say so,” Jim snapped, and resumed walking.

Artemus did not take offense with his friend’s tone as he joined Jim in striding toward the tavern. He knew Jim was edgy, and so was he. They were in a situation here that made no sense. They had to determine whether that situation was dangerous to themselves—or the country—and whether to just ride away and forget it. If we’re allowed to ride away. We don’t even know what they did with the horses! No other horses were on the street, same as yesterday.

The door to the tavern was closed, and locked. Jim rapped on it, and was about to knock again after half a minute elapsed when Dr. Alpheus opened it. He smiled warmly. “Good morning, gentlemen. Please come in.”

They stepped inside with the usual caution, and were a bit bemused with what they saw. Not an ordinary saloon, to be certain. The bar and all the fixtures behind it were of wood, but ornately carved wood, done by an obviously very talented craftsman. The wood was highly polished. To Artie it was reminiscent of Bierhallen they had visited in Bavaria. Indeed, the shelves behind the bar were lined with ornate steins, not the usual glasses. The appearance was definitely European, and old.

Twenty or twenty-five men were present, the young men they had seen on the street at the time of their arrival. Seeing them more closely, Jim decided that a few were in their mid thirties but the majority, as he had judged before, were thirty or under. Many were blond but some had darker hair. Like Perdita, their clothes were clean but obviously not new. All the men were gazing at the newcomers with interest, and grinning widely.

Anticipating. That notion came to Artie again. What were they anticipating? Something enjoyable—to them at least.

“What is it you wished to talk to us about, doctor?” Jim asked in a mild tone. “We do have to be on our way.”

Alpheus’s smile widened. “Just a little challenge, Mr. West. Alaric here would like to engage in a game of arm wrestling with you.”

Startled, Jim looked at the man in question, a burly young man with curly blond hair and dark blue eyes whose grin was even broader than that of Alpheus. “Arm wrestling?”

“You fear to match me, Mr. West?” For the first time, a speaker displayed a bit of an accent, although Artie could not recognize it.

“No,” Jim replied slowly, “I’m just wondering why.”

“Because Alaric has heard of your fame as a fighter, Mr. West,” Alpheus put in. “He—and we—want to know if it extends to arm wrestling.”

Jim looked at Artie, saw the same bafflement in his friend’s face. Then he shrugged. “All right. Why not?”

Alaric immediately stepped to a small table and sat down on one side. Jim stripped off his jacket, handing it to Artie, then took the chair on the opposite side, rolling up the sleeve on his right arm. As Alaric placed his elbow on the table, Jim immediately perceived his own advantage. He leaned forward slightly so that his own arm was closer to his body. As soon as he gripped Alaric’s hand, he felt the slight tension in his opponent. Alaric was already applying pressure, although he might not have realized it, and leaning slightly toward Jim.

Alpheus gave the signal by dropping his hand. For a few seconds the two men were matched equally, but as he had hoped, the position of his arm gave Jim better leverage, and slowly Alaric’s arm was pressed toward the tabletop. Then he gave way.

Jim had not known what kind of reaction to expect from his opponent. He had been in matches where the other man was a very sore loser. But Alaric jumped to his feet, that grin returning. “Good, very good. Strong man, doctor. Mr. Gordon?”

Artie immediately shook his head. “No, thank you. That’s not my game.” He half expected other men in the room to challenge Jim, but none did. They seemed oddly satisfied with the outcome of this brief match.

On his feet, Jim rolled down his sleeve and fastened the cuffs. “That was interesting, doctor. Now, if you don’t mind having our horses brought, we’ll be on our way. We are expected elsewhere.” Artie handed him his jacket and he pulled it on.

“Of course,” Alpheus beamed. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. West. If you will go into the street and walk toward the east, you will encounter what is necessary.”

That’s a damn strange way of putting it, Artie thought, then spoke aloud. “Thank you, doctor, for your hospitality. Perhaps we can return and visit another time when we are not on a schedule.”

“Of course. We will meet again.”

There’s that look again. Artie saw it on all the faces, perhaps even stronger. What are they waiting for? They stepped outside and looked up and down the street. No sign of their horses. “He said to go into the street and walk east.”

Jim nodded. “I know.” He gazed up at the rooftops and the windows glinting in the morning sun, which was bright despite the surrounding fog. As before, he saw no sign of snipers.

Regardless, as they stepped into the street, both men kept their hands near their sidearms. All was very quiet. No one was visible, not even the women who had not been in the tavern. Reaching the center of the street, they paused a long moment, then started walking east.

“My God! What the hell?”

Artie could not contain the exclamation as the horsemen burst through the ground-hugging clouds ahead of them. For long seconds, both men stood frozen, staring. A dozen riders were bearing down on them, riders on sturdy mounts, and wearing leather and metal garb that immediately reminded Artie of drawings he had seen of the hordes of Attila. They were swinging axes, swords, and torches, and yelling at the top of their lungs.

“I don't know who they are,” Jim rapped, “but they look like they intend to burn and loot the town!”

He dropped to one knee, pulling his pistol and firing with the same motion. The rider on the first horse swayed in the saddle, dropped his torch, and fell into the street. Artie was simultaneously joining his partner in the dust, firing his pistol. They both shot judiciously, aware that the raiders were not armed with pistols or rifles—although the oncoming men obviously had the intent to kill them with the weapons they did wield.

Jim ran out of bullets first and he rapidly reloaded while Artemus continued to fire. The riders swirled past them, still screaming and swiping at them with their weapons, despite at least four of their members were now sprawled in the dust of the street. Artie saw the wild rage in their eyes, smelled the odor of sweating horses and tanned leather, felt the heat of the smoking torches; he also felt the bump of one rider against his shoulder, nearly throwing him off balance. Jim began to shoot again, and Artie reloaded.

“They’re coming back!” Jim breathed, as he wheeled around to face the new onrush.

The unexpected quiet was startling. As both men changed directions in order to meet the return of the horde, they saw nothing except the dust of the street.

“Where the hell did they go?” Artie asked, looking around. As he glanced behind him, he gasped anew. “Jim… look!”

Jim turned back, freezing in a twisted position for a long moment as he gazed down the empty street. Empty. Like the opposite direction, the street was bare. The dust was settled, evincing no signs that the horses’ hooves had just stirred up a whirlwind. Slowly, he straightened, still holding his pistol, looking around.

“What the devil?”

“Jim… you saw it…”

“Of course I saw it,” Jim barked back, irrationally angry. He shook his head then. “Sorry. I’m just—Artie, we need to talk to the doctor.”

Wordlessly they holstered their guns and strode back to the tavern. This time the door was unlocked, but when they entered, the room was empty of humans. A quick check through doors that opened off the tavern revealed no one on the premises.

Artie shook his head. “Jim, they couldn’t have rigged themselves up and ridden into town in those few seconds after we left.”

“I know.”

From there they crossed the street again to the doctor’s office, where they found Dr. Alpheus at his desk. He looked up and smiled. “Did you change your mind about leaving?”

“What was that, doctor? How did you do that?” Artie spoke in a demanding tone.

“What does it matter? You dispatched them, didn’t you?” Alpheus was undisturbed and obviously not inclined to explain further.

“So you did… see them?” Jim glared at the calm man.

“Of course. They come regularly when needed.”

“Needed! What the devil does that mean?” Jim could not keep the rage from his voice.

“What the devil indeed,” Alpheus replied in that continuing serene tone.

“We could have been killed,” Artie grated. “Your town could have been pillaged and burned!”

“You stopped them. What does it matter now? Do you still want to leave?”

The query caused both agents to mentally step back, startled. They looked at each other and Jim spoke tautly. “You know we can’t. Not until we know what is going on here. What is this place?”

“It is Halcyon. You have been brought here for a purpose, just as we were in the ages past. Don’t fear. It will soon be over. Enjoy your time here, gentlemen.” With those words, Alpheus rose from his desk and left the room.

“Well,” Jim spoke with an exhaled breath. “Now what?”

His partner shook his head. “Jim, those horsemen were real. I saw the blood. I felt the air move when they rode by swinging their weapons at us. One nearly knocked me over. I smelled the smoke from their torches!”

“I know. I know. But…”

“Yeah. But. As you told the doctor, we can’t leave now. Not until we know what the hell this is.”

“I know,” Jim said again. “Maybe we need to talk to some other folks in town.”

“If we can find them!”

When they stepped outside, they found Perdita sweeping the porch and numerous other citizens going about their daily lives, as though nothing had happened. Jim paused by the young woman.

“Perdita… did you see the raiders?”

She looked away, not meeting his gaze. “I’ve seen them.”

“How was that done?” Artie asked. “Some kind of…of projection?” He knew that was not possible. Those men and their horses had been real.

“I… I don't know.” Perdita stole a glance at Jim, and Artie saw again that wistfulness.

As if she feels she doesn’t have a chance, and isn’t going to try. I could tell her differently. Jim is interested. But I think he’s as puzzled as I am about her… and everything else here.

“Pardon me,” she said then, and hurried inside with her broom.

Jim looked at the closed door a long moment then shook his head. “Artie, I have the distinct sense we could talk until we’re blue in the face, and no one is going to tell us anything.”

“Did you notice how she phrased it when you asked her if she saw the raiders?”

Jim frowned, nodded. “She said ‘I’ve seen them.’ That is an odd way to respond.”

“As if she has seen them on other occasions. What would have happened if we had not shot at them? Would they have killed us? Were they real enough to have killed us?”

“Artie, I have no idea. I can’t even figure out the reason for the arm wrestling challenge!”

“I know. It was almost—almost like a test of some sort. I don't think Alaric expected to beat you.”

“He didn’t try that hard. I don't think he’d had much experience at it, either.”

“Well,” Artie sighed, “let’s take a tour of the town. Who knows, we might even find the horses.”

“I doubt it,” Jim muttered.

He was right. They found a building that appeared to have been a stable at one time, but it was empty, and obviously had not been used in many years. “Where could they have been hidden? For that matter, how can they exist without horses?” Artie wondered. “How do they get supplies? The little garden behind the doctor’s house is barely enough to supply him. Even if everyone had a garden, they would still need to acquire meat and other items.” They had been served chicken last night, and eggs for breakfast, yet they saw no signs of poultry being raised.

Similarly, attempts to talk to other residents of Halcyon they encountered proved fruitless. The people were friendly, but they either ignored questions or found some excuse to send the two visitors away or leave themselves. Alaric was found in the building labeled “The Mercantile,” which they found contained sparse supplies, and what was on the shelves was dusty, untouched for a long while.

Jim asked the young man why he had offered the arm wrestling challenge. Alaric shrugged. “I was supposed to.”

“Who told you to?” Artie wanted to know.

Alaric’s gaze displayed some confusion, but also some wariness. “It’s just what I’m supposed to do. You did well.”

“Thank you,” Jim replied with some irony his tone. “What about the raiders? Did you see them?”

Alaric shrugged. “Always do. I got to go take care of something.” With that he turned and exited through a rear door, which when the agents tried it, they found was locked.

“Artie…”

Artie held up a hand. “Don’t say it, James. I don’t have any answers. All I know is we have to find some before we leave here.”

“And how long is that going to take? The colonel is going to be a tad annoyed. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting!”

“We’ll have a good story for him. He should like that.”

The stepped out onto the porch and looked around. Citizens were moving around as though engaged in daily business, but the agents knew now no “daily business” occurred. “It’s like they’re going through the motions,” Artie surmised, “as though it’s what they’ve always done, even though no goods are in the stores to purchase or sell.”

Frowning, Jim looked at him. “What are you saying?”

“I have no idea, Jim. I have no idea. I’m not even certain we are here, and I’m not dreaming all this.”

Jim chuckled. “Well, if you are, I’m dreaming it too.” He gazed up the street. “I wonder what would happen if we tried to pass through the fogbank.”

“Shall we find out?”

As one, they stepped down into the street and began striding toward the outskirts of town and the dark, foreboding clouds that waited there. Both were watchful, aware that this was where the Hun-like raiders had suddenly emerged. Nothing happened, other than those people on the sidewalks paused in their movements to watch. No one rushed to stop them.

“Alaric’s remarks about the arm wrestling were odd,” Artie commented as they walked. “Saying he was supposed to challenge you, and then that you did ‘quite well’ in the match.”

“I noticed that. I’m getting the sense it was the preliminary. I have to wonder what would have happened if we both refused his challenge.”

Artie glanced at him. “We both would have been killed by Attila and his boys?”

“Artie,” Jim sighed, “let’s not make this any more complicated than it already is!”

“I’m afraid I have nothing to do with that. Have you noticed?”

Jim nodded as they paused their steps. They had reached beyond the last building. “We’re no nearer to the fog than we were in the middle of town.”

“As though it retracts just enough to keep us in!”

Jim looked back toward town. The residents were still watching them. “Does that mean we’re here for good?”

“Let’s go ask the doctor.” As they started walking back into town, Artie glanced back at the fog. He could not say for sure, but he thought it was closing in again. “Jim, the fog wasn’t there when we first rode in.”

“I guess it opened enough to permit us to enter.”

“But why? What is this?”

“As you said, let’s ask the doctor.”

W*W*W*W*W

Where there is mystery, it is generally supposed that there must also be evil.
—Fragment of a Novel, Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron; 1788-1824), English poet

They found Dr. Alpheus in his study, after entering through the front door without knocking. Alpheus looked up from his armchair. “Did you change your minds, gentlemen?”

“Do we have a choice?” Artie responded.

“You were planning to leave, weren’t you?”

“I think you know why we are still here,” Jim stated rather harshly.

Alpheus chuckled. “Sit down. What do you wish to know?”

“Will you tell us?” Artie inquired, taking a nearby chair.

“I’ll tell you what I’m allowed to tell you.”

“Allowed by whom?” Jim sat on the small sofa, leaning forward, arms on his knees.

“That I am not allowed to tell.” Alpheus smiled.

“What is this place?” Jim asked.

“For the moment, it is known as Halcyon. It has had numerous names over… time.”

Artie folded his arms across his chest. “Are we prisoners here?”

“Only as long as you imprison yourselves.”

“Now that’s an illuminating response.” Artemus could not keep the sarcasm from his voice.

“Isn’t it?” Alpheus laughed. “I’m afraid it’s the best I can do at the moment. You will understand… when the time comes.”

“I’m getting the impression this is some kind of test,” Jim stated, feeling his temper boiling, but holding onto it. This was not the time for action. They needed more information.

“You are at least partially right, Mr. West.”

“Does this place even exist?” Artie wanted to know. “Or are we… is it some kind of dream, a hallucination?”

Alpheus sighed now. “I wish I could answer that. But I can’t.”

“And you can’t tell us what we need to do to be released.”

“I’m sorry, no, Mr. Gordon. I have great confidence in the two of you, more than I’ve experienced in any other guests. I feel you’ll succeed.”

“There have been others?” Jim looked at Artie quickly and saw the same amazement.

“Again, I cannot go into that. I should not even have said what I did. My only advice, Mr. Gordon, Mr. West, is to enjoy your stay. Halcyon is really a lovely place. It certainly has its limits, but we are generally content. As we have no choice, that is best.”

As he had done before, and similar to the other residents they had talked to, Alpheus rose and left the room, thus avoiding further questions. For long minutes the agents sat where they were, each deep in their own thoughts. Artemus finally broke the silence.

“Enjoy our stay? Doing what?”

Jim had to chuckle. “Good question, pal. Shall we go see if Attila wants a rematch?”

“If this is some kind of dream, some figment of our imagination,” Artie mused as he got to his feet, “could we be harmed?”

“Maybe we should have asked the doctor, although I doubt we would have gotten a straight answer. I believe the best thing to do is to fight back when necessary. If necessary.”

“I’m with you,” Artie replied as they stepped out into the hallway. “If those raiders were ‘playing’ they were certainly serious about it. Hello, Perdita.” He smiled at the young woman who had appeared from the dining room.

“Dr. Alpheus suggested I ask if you want coffee or anything.”

“No thank you,” Jim replied. “Although perhaps you can explain to us where the coffee—and other supplies—comes from.”

She shook her head sadly. No, I cannot do that.”

“It’s a secret?” Artie asked.

“No… not… it’s just… I don't know. All our foods, except the little we grow in our gardens, just… appear. The pantries are full.”

“How long has it been like this?” Jim inquired. “I mean, how long have you been here?”

Perdita shook her head again. “I don't know.”

Because she seemed to be willing to talk, Artie decided to try a question that others in the town had quickly avoided answering. “Why are you here?”

Her blue eyes lowered. “It is our punishment.”

“For what?”

“I must go. I am making soup for the midday meal. Please be on time.” With that she turned and retreated into the dining room again.

“Well, little by little,” Artie sighed. “What are you thinking?” Jim was gazing at the closed door.

“Maybe I should try to talk to her alone.”

“Could work. I’ll go out and see if any of the citizens have become any more garrulous.”

“Good luck.” With a nod, Jim went through the dining room to the kitchen, where he found Perdita washing carrots at a sink. “Did you know that the name ‘Perdita’ means ‘lost one’?”

Her smile was shy as she glanced back over her shoulder. “Yes. I chose it.”

“You chose your own name?”

“Many of us did after… afterwards. We find it… interesting to change our names from time to time.” Her attention went to the vegetables.

Jim stepped to the sink and leaned his back against it, so that he was somewhat facing her. Or at least she could not turn her head without facing him. “Perdita, my friend and I are very confused about why we are here. Can you tell us? The doctor called us ‘guests,’ but we feel more like prisoners.”

Again that little smile. “I suppose both apply.”

“You know, you are very charming when you smile.”

Roses bloomed in her cheeks. “Thank you.” The words were nearly a whisper.

He decided to press on. “Dr. Alpheus seemed to suggest also that we were here for some sort of test. Can you tell me about that?”

“I’m afraid not,” she sighed. “I wish I could. It is forbidden.”

Jim was silent a moment then, before asking, “Have you a sweetheart in Halcyon?”

That brought her gaze around, blue eyes wide. “Oh no! That is also forbidden!”

He frowned. “Why? I see many men and women of similar age.”

“It’s part of the punishment,” she whispered.

“For what? What did you do?”

“Please don’t ask.” She started to turn toward the sink again, but Jim touched her chin with his fingers, staying the movement.

“Perdita, am I so horrible?”

“Oh no! No, Mr. West! You are… you are not… horrible.”

He leaned over then a touched his lips softly to hers. When he drew back, she remained still, eyes closed. “Perdita.” She opened her eyes and he was surprised to see tears now tumbling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Oh, you did not hurt me. That was… so wonderful. It’s been so long!” With that she threw her damp hands around his neck and drew him into a long and sweet kiss.

For several long minutes they shared the embrace and several kisses. Jim discerned that she wanted more than the kisses, but now was not the time. “Perdita,” he spoke gently, “please. Can’t you tell me what this place is, why we are here… and why we cannot leave?”

Her sigh was long and deep. “It is our… our destiny. Our duty. Men are summoned, sometimes one at a time, sometimes more… to answer the call.”

“What call?”

Now she shook her head, stepping back away from him and turning her attention to the sink again. “Please. I cannot tell you more.”

Now Jim sighed. “I don’t want to get you into trouble, Perdita. If you need help…”

She looked around, tears flowing freely. “There is nothing you can do.”

[California gal]

W*W*W*W*W

Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimaeras dire.
—Paradise Lost (bk. II, l. 628), John Milton (1608-1674), English poet, scholar, writer and patriot

Artemus sighed in frustration as he stepped down into the dust of the street to head back toward the doctor’s office. Hope Jim had more success than I did! As had occurred earlier, his questions were answered indirectly and vaguely, or not at all. Everyone was friendly; very friendly. He again had that sense that they were anticipating something. For that reason he looked toward the end of the street and the heavy fog. No wild-looking riders burst through.

However, something else did. Artie peered, not believing his eyes. He also saw the woman step down from the porch of the last building in the street, directly in the beast’s path and apparently completely unaware that a large wolf was bearing down on her.

Artie shouted a warning, and at the same time drew his pistol and started running down the street toward her. He immediately realized that the completely unaware woman was going to be in between him and the animal, preventing a clear shot. Instead he fired into the air. The woman paused, looked toward him, and smiled.

“Look out! Look out!” he yelled, running at top speed, as was the largest wolf he had ever seen. Its eyes seemed to be glowing red, even in the brightness of the sun. Still the woman remained standing in the street, her back to her danger, smiling at Artemus.

He had no choice. He gained the woman at almost the same moment at the wolf. All he could do was shove her aside and take the attack himself. The force of the animal’s leap threw him on his back, and he smelled and felt the hot, foul breath of the creature on his face, sensed as well as heard the deep, low snarl that emanated from within the throat.

He threw one arm up toward the creature’s mouth, allowing the jaw the clamp onto it as he managed to bring the pistol up in between his own body and that of the wolf. He pulled the trigger, and pulled it again and again. At first, as he felt the pain of the fangs tearing through his jacket and into his flesh, he believed the bullets were having no effect. From somewhere he heard shouts, but his concentration was on the attacking beast.

Then it was gone. Artemus Gordon lay on his back in the dust staring up at the blue sky for a moment, then into the anxious face of his partner as Jim leaned over him. “Artie! Are you all right?”

“I don't know.” He lifted himself up onto his elbows now and looked around. The woman he had tried to save was now on the nearest porch with some other residents, all grinning widely. “Did you see it?”

“I saw it,” Jim replied grimly, offering his hand.

Artie accepted it with his left because the right still held the pistol. Only then did he look at his left arm. The jacket sleeve was shredded, blood seeping through. He started to feel the pain of the animal bite. Jim saw the blood too.

“Let’s go see Alpheus. Can you make it?”

“Yeah, I think so. Jim…”

Jim could only shake his head. He had been reluctantly leaving Perdita, when he had heard the shouts from outside. With horror, he had seen his partner borne down under the weight of a massive wolf. Or at least it appeared to be a wolf. The beast had vanished before Jim could get close enough to add his own bullets to those his partner was pumping into the animal’s chest. Just vanished. Was there, and was gone.

But it was real enough to tear up Artie’s arm!

Dr. Alpheus was waiting for them just inside the door of the house. He glanced at Artie’s arm then led them through the office into what was apparently his surgery. Still wordless, he motioned for Artie to sit down, and while Jim helped his partner remove his jacket and shirt, the doctor gathered up some instruments, a basin of water, and bandages.

“That was a very courageous deed,” he said as he sat down in the nearby chair.

“Was it enough?” Jim demanded.

Alpheus barely glanced up. “I don't know. That’s not for me to say.”

“What is this test we’re undergoing?” Artie asked then as the doctor began washing the blood off the wound. He could see that the cuts were not deep; not nearly as bad as he had feared. Regardless, they hurt.

“I can’t tell you any more right now. Suffice it to say it’s nearly over.”

“Doctor,” Jim spoke in a firm tone, “we have people waiting for us. Our jobs require us to be available at all times. Lives depend on us!”

Alpheus smiled. “I am aware of that.”

“What was that animal?” Artie asked then. “He was real. These wounds on my arm attest to that.”

“Yes. He was real.”

Artie considered a moment. “The woman knew he was coming, didn’t she? I was supposed to try to help her. Is that it? It was a test of whether I would or not?”

Alpheus carefully tied off the bandage he had wrapped around the arm. “Just try to keep that clean, Mr. Gordon. There should be no problems.”

“Why can’t you tell us what is going on?” Jim’s voice held anger now, his green eyes hard. “Why would it hurt to tell us?”

The doctor’s face softened. “I am sorry.” He rose from the chair and silently gathered his equipment.

Artie looked at his partner and shook his head. They weren’t going to learn anything further. Jim helped Artie don his shirt and jacket again, and they went out onto the porch. “This is crazy,” Jim muttered.

“You’ll get no argument from me. But it appears we have to let it play out, for however long, and to whatever end it takes. I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of test of our behavior.”

“But why? Who—or what—is doing it?”

“Jim, I am not the one with those answers.” Artie glanced back to the closed door behind them. “I’m not even certain Alpheus knows.”

Jim folded his arms across his chest. “Is it possible that this town, this Halcyon, has always been here, but only now were we able to see and visit it?”

“Who knows? I think we need to stop worrying about the unanswerable questions, pal. Alpheus said it was ‘nearly over.’ That indicates to me something else is going to happen. We’d better be alert.” Artie decided to change the subject slightly. “Did Perdita tell you anything?”

“That periodically men appear here, singly or more than one at a time. She said that this was the town’s destiny, part of their punishment. But she did not say what the punishment was for. She also said that the people here are not allowed to fall in love and pair up. She… she had not been kissed in a long while, she said.” The hunger she had displayed certainly attested to that.

“I wonder how long,” Artie murmured.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just thinking about legends I heard, things my Russian grandmother told me. There was one about a town that was so full of sin that the gods banished the entire town. It just disappeared off the face of the earth. She said it reappears from time to time for a short period.”

“For what reason? I mean, why does it reappear?”

“I’m trying to remember. I was pretty young. I think I was impressed by the fact that the entire town, population and all, vanished. The reasons were not important.”

“It was a legend.”

“Yeah, but we know all too well that the impossible can happen.”

Jim knew his partner was thinking of Colonel Vautrain, who had transported them back in time—twice. “I don’t suppose the good colonel has anything to do with this.”

Artie glanced at him. “He’s dead.”

“Yeah. So it seemed.” They had never been entirely certain of that. All they knew was that Vautrain had been in the burning house, but they had not found any trace in the cooling ashes. Jim glanced across the street. “I know it’s early, but how about a preprandial aperitif?”

Artie followed his gaze. Several men and women were entering the tavern. “Sounds good to me.” One of the women, he noted, was the woman whom he had just saved from the “wolf.” Maybe she’ll want to buy me a drink!

The customers in the tavern evinced some surprise when the two men entered, but it passed quickly. No bartender was behind the bar, but as Jim and Artemus moved toward it, one man hurried back there. He was the same man Jim had arm-wrestled with earlier.

“Gentlemen! What do you wish?”

“Brandy?” Jim asked.

“We have excellent brandy!” Expertly he poured amber liquid into two snifters and placed them before the agents, waving his hand when Jim started to reach inside his coat. “No. No money. You are our guests!”

Artie lifted his glass in a salute and sipped the liquor. “Excellent, indeed! What was the original name of your village?” He asked the question in Russian, drawing an open-mouthed stare from the man. “You understand me?” Artie continued in the same language.

“Da! Da!” The bartender quickly looked at his fellow citizens at the nearby tables, and whispered in English. “We are not allowed.”

“I see,” Artie murmured, returning to English himself. He knew that while Jim had not understood the question he had posed, he was aware what Artie was trying to do. And had succeeded in doing. As to what it meant… that was another story. I wish I could remember the entire tale Grandma told me. I am sure she related the reasons for the banishment, and possibly more. “Did you see the wolf?” he asked aloud.

“Oh yes. Many times. Pardon me, sirs.” With that the bartender departed from his post and went to join his companions, with whom he entered into a low-voiced conversation, heads together.

Artie stepped over to the woman who had been in the street. “I hope you were unhurt, miss.”

She smiled brightly. “I am fine, sir. I thank you for your assistance.” Her speech had the same vague accent possessed by the arm wrestler-bartender.

“You knew the wolf was coming at you. Why didn’t you move?”

The smile remained. “It would not hurt me.”

Artie nodded, understanding. “But what would have happened if I had turned into a coward and ran away?”

“The wolf would have killed you.”

Although he had half expected that response, hearing her say it in a matter-of-fact tone was chilling. Artie nodded again, smiled his thanks, and stepped back to his partner. “You heard?”

“I heard.”

“Still doesn’t answer the entire question, though.” Artie put his snifter on the counter. “I think I’ve had enough.”

Jim concurred and they exited to the street again. “We’re being tested,” he said as they paused on the porch of the building. “By whom and why—perhaps it doesn’t even matter.”

“I agree. The big puzzle right now is—what’s next? The entire Apache nation descending on us? Perhaps an oversized train engine roaring down invisible tracks?”

“I always said you had a great sense of humor, Artie.”

“Ha ha! What now?”

“I have no idea. About all we can do is wait. Everything appears to happen of its own accord, at the proper moment.”

Artie nodded thoughtfully. “You were tested by the arm wrestling, but that certainly wasn’t life threatening—perhaps only to see if you—or we—were willing to participate. If we had both refused Alaric’s challenge…”

Jim’s smile was wry. “I think they knew I wouldn’t refuse.”

“The attack by the horde was a test for both of us,” Artie went on. “I presume that if we’d turned tail, we would have been slaughtered.”

“And the wolf was your individual challenge,” Jim said thoughtfully. “Seems as though my turn will be next.”

“Yeah,” Artie’s face and voice were sour. “Be nice if we had some hint, some warning, huh?”

“I guess that’s not how the game is played.”

“Be interesting to find out what happens if we win them all.”

“I hope we are somehow let out of this place. Nice town to visit but I wouldn’t want to live here.” Despite the sweetness of his memories of the few minutes in the kitchen with Perdita.

Artie chuckled. “Let’s go see if lunch is ready.”

As they crossed the street Jim told his partner what Perdita had told him about choosing her name “afterwards.” Artie nodded. “Alaric isn’t a Russian name.”

“You’re still thinking of your grandmother’s tale.”

“Alaric understood Russian, Jim.”

“Yes, but…”

“I know. The whole idea is fantastic. This town is fantastic. I’m not even sure it’s really happening.” He looked down at his torn and bloody sleeve. “This sure felt real though.”

“That’s the point, Artie. It is real. I mean, it’s not, but it is. Oh, hell. I don't know what I’m saying!” Jim stopped on the porch of the doctor’s office, chagrin on his face.

Artie patted him on the shoulder. “Believe it or not, I know exactly what you mean, partner. I believe we just have to survive these challenges, and so far, we’re doing fine.”

Jim sighed heavily. “If only we knew what the next one is going to be. I’d like to finish this up and get out of here. Don’t forget, we’re still going to have to face one very angry colonel.”

Artie grimaced. “I think I’d rather meet that wolf again.”

“Wonder what would happen if we got really tough with the doctor.”

“Only one way to find out.”

They soon learned that the results would be the same. Entering the front door, they found Dr. Alpheus at his desk in his office. It occurred to Artie that they had not seen a single “patient” come to see the doctor. Nor did Alpheus have certificates hanging on the wall as most physicians he had ever visited did.

“What kind of doctor are you?” he asked after Alpheus greeted them cordially.

“What does it matter? I tended your arm.”

“That’s true.”

“We have to leave,” Jim said firmly. “Do whatever needs to be done to get us out of here. People are waiting for us. And we have a job to do.”

“I’m aware of that,” Alpheus replied mildly. “I know how important your jobs are to you—and to others.”

“How do you know so much about us?” Artie wanted to know.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that—even if I wanted to. I just know.”

“Dr. Alpheus,” Jim tried again, “you cannot keep us prisoners here any longer.” Anger began to appear in his resolute expression and stern voice.

“You are not prisoners. You are guests. But I can assure you, your time here is coming to an end.”

The two agents glanced at each other. “What does that mean?” Artie demanded.

Alpheus just sighed heavily. “Gentlemen, there are questions that even I cannot answer, and you are asking many of them.”

“We’ve figured out that my turn is next,” Jim said. “When? Is that the last of it? Do we get a pat on the head and sent on our way?” He saw no reason to disguise his fury now and his voice was harsh.

“More questions. Please trust me. I am just a… a messenger. I cannot tell you what I do not know.”

Perdita appeared in the doorway at that moment to inform them that the midday meal was ready.
Artie looked at his partner, saw the anger die away as both realized how fruitless this all was. Frustrated, they joined the doctor at the table to enjoy the delicious soup and freshly baked bread.

Artie noticed something different in Perdita as she served them. She still had eyes only for Jim, but instead of the earlier wistfulness, he thought he saw deep sadness. The change was slight, but it was a change. Was it because she had now enjoyed Jim’s attentions and knew that if he left, she would not see him again?

Well, that’s presuming this place is something supernatural and that it is not all some kind of trickery. Artie could not understand how the “tricks” could be carried off, but they had seen stranger things during their careers. He could not stop thinking about the legend Babushka had related to him. If only I had asked her questions. But how was I to know I would one day be in this situation? I couldn’t have been more than five or six years old.

Nothing much was said during the meal. Jim was still seething inside, but he knew that completely losing his temper was not going to help matters. Whether or not Alpheus was telling the truth, the fact was they appeared to be trapped here until he—or someone or something—decided to allow them to leave. Or killed them. Jim perceived that his partner was not happy either. Despite Alpheus’s assurance that their time here was coming to an end, they were both at the mercy of Alpheus or whatever force controlled this insane place.

He managed to smile and speak to Perdita in a gentle tone despite his mood. He had enjoyed their brief interlude and the realization that he might never see her again caused an unusual ache. He was not a man who made attachments easily—and those he did make appeared doomed. He knew asking her to come with them was useless. If Artie was right about the origin of this town, these people could not leave—ever. Even if Artie’s theory was wrong, chances were Perdita and all the other people here were linked up with some nefarious scheme, although Jim—despite his innate cynical nature—was more and more convinced something beyond natural was involved in Halcyon.

W*W*W*W*W

The gods in bounty work up storms about us, that give mankind occasion to exert their hidden strength, and throw out into practice virtues that shun the day, and lie concealed in the smooth seasons and the calms of life.
—Joseph Addison (1672-1719), English essayist, poet, and statesman

The meal completed, the agents stepped outside to the street, accompanied by Dr. Alpheus. Jim looked up and down the street. Residents were also emerging from the stores and homes, and he got that sense that they were anticipating something. My turn to face the dragon or whatever? The forbidding fog was still there; if anything, it appeared to have moved in closer to the town. He had no doubt, however, that should they attempt to approach, it would shrink back.

The fog was the main reason for believing something out of the ordinary was occurring here. The wolf and the raiders could have been staged somehow—although he was unsure how—but the fog would seem to be beyond human capabilities. Not even Loveless could manage such a trick, Jim was fairly certain.

Artemus moved down off the porch into the dust of the street, Alpheus following. Jim remained on the porch a little longer, half hoping that Perdita would come out. Unknowing of how much time they had left, he would like to spend a little more with her. He hoped she felt the same. After a few minutes, when she did not emerge, he stepped down as well, standing a little off to one side, listening to his partner and the doctor’s conversation. Artie had commented on the well-kept appearance of the town.

Alpheus laughed. “There are two reasons for that, Mr. Gordon. One is that the residents of Halcyon have a lot of time on their hands, so sweeping and occasionally painting is a good way to occupy themselves. The other is that nothing ages here. It changes from time to time, according to where we are situated, but does not grow any older.”

Artie gazed at him. “How old are you?”

Now the doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid I cannot tell you that, primarily because I simply do not know.”

The exchange continued but Jim’s attention was diverted as Perdita came out onto the porch. She paused just beyond the door, glanced at the doctor and Artemus then directed her gaze to Jim. She smiled, but Jim was startled to realize she was also crying. Tears sparkled on her cheeks.

Puzzled, he started to move toward her when a shadow at the corner of his eyes caused him to turn and look down the street. He could not help but gape in astonishment when the shadow he had glimpsed became a fully formed man, clad in leather as had been the raiders. He was alone, however, and he held a crossbow which he was lifting to his shoulder and sighting… directly at Artie’s back!

Jim reacted rather than thought about his actions. He saw the figure’s finger start to squeeze the trigger of the crossbow and innately knew he did not have time to draw his gun. So he launched himself toward his partner.

Artie had seen Dr. Alpheus’s eyes flicker briefly toward something over his shoulder and was just about to turn to see what he was looking at when something slammed into his back, sending him hurtling to the street. Stunned, his breath knocked from his body, he lay still for a long minute, breathing heavily to refill his lungs, conscious of the weight now across his legs.

Finally, still struggling with breathing, Artie lifted his head, looked up to see Dr. Alpheus smiling down at him. What the devil hit me? He did not think the wolf had returned. He would have felt more than just the weight of the animal, he was certain. Jim would have… Where is Jim?

A little tingle of dread knotted in his stomach as he began to twist around. The first thing he saw was the man standing further down the street. The man in leather garb holding a crossbow before him. As Artie gazed, the man evanesced, slowing disintegrating into a shadowy form, before disappearing altogether.

He then forced himself to look to see what was laying across his legs. “Oh, no! Oh, Jim! No!”

His partner was sprawled across him, the bolt from the crossbow protruding from the middle of his back. Blood stained the blue corduroy jacket. Jim lay so very still.

Twisting carefully, Artie pulled his legs out from under, got to his knees, and gently turned Jim over, cradling him in his arms. He knew instantly, but he still had to check, first grasping a cool, limp wrist and then laying his ear against the chest. Silence. Deadly silence.

For a long moment he clutched the lifeless form against him, and felt the hot tears began to flow down his face. He could not stop them, nor did he want to. Finally, he lifted his gaze to look at Alpheus, who had stepped around to look down at the pair, and was still smiling.

“One of your fine books has a perfect statement,” Alpheus said softly, “I believe it goes, ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends,’ Quite apt, don’t you think?”

Artie shook his head, fighting against the rage that was boiling in him. His voice, when he spoke, was choked and hoarse. “Is this what you wanted? Proof that Jim would die for me? I could have told you that! All you needed to do was ask me! You didn’t have to murder him!”

Alpheus seemed unfazed by the fiery speech and the hate-filled eyes. Other residents were gathering around them now, including Perdita who, like Artie, was silently crying. She was, nonetheless, smiling.

“We are charged,” Alpheus went on, “to test men. To find the bravest, noblest, and most pure of heart.”

“And murder them?” Artie began to struggle to get to his feet, his partner’s body still in his arms. He glared at two of the men who started toward him as if to help and they paused. “I’m taking him home. If you try to stop me…”

“No one will stop you,” the doctor spoke gently. “Mr. West gave his life for you, and we know that in similar circumstances, you would have done the same for him. All is well.”

Gaining his feet with his burden, Artie stared. “All is well? All is well? How can you say that? Jim is dead! You killed him for your… your tests or whatever they are! Why!? What happens now? Do we get gold stars? Damn you! I’m taking him home.”

He started forward and the people moved aside, all except Perdita, who moved with him for a few moments. “Tell Jim that I wish it could have been different. And thank him for me.”

Artie stared at her. “Tell Jim? How can I do that? If you cared for him, you would have tried to help him, to save him!”

“I cared,” Perdita said softly. “There was nothing I could do.”

Artie pushed forward, striding toward the dark and foreboding fog bank. Although he was not thinking exactly the clearest he ever had, he did notice that it appeared the fog was not retreating as it had earlier when they approached it. He glanced down at the pale face of the man he carried.

“Jim, I had no idea it would come to this. I’m sorry. I should have done something…”

He pushed into the damp coolness of the fog.

W*W*W*W*W

One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,
Never doubted clouds would break,
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to flight better,
Sleep to wake.
— Epilogue—Asolando, Robert Browning (1812-1889), English poet

He stared up at the dark ceiling above him, conscious of the hard coolness beneath him. A horse snorted nearby and shifted its weight, hooves against that same hardness. Frowning, he tried to remember… and finally lifted his head and gazed at the bright sunlit opening of the cave. The cave?

Artie sat up then, still gaping at the glare of the sunshine. He could see the trees out there, hear birds calling to each other. Another sound, a slight mutter, caused him to swivel his head quickly to stare across the dying embers of the small campfire. Jim West threw an arm over his eyes and groaned.

“Tell this hotel they need better mattresses, Artie.”

“Jim!”

Jim lifted his head, disconcerted. “What?” He sat up then. “Artie?” He looked around at their surroundings wonderingly.

Artemus shook his head, looking quickly toward the cave opening again. “Nothing. A… a dream I guess.” He glanced at Jim. “You’re all right?”

“I’m fine. You…?”

Artie nodded. “I’m okay.” He glanced down at his left sleeve. The leather jacket was intact. Flexing his fingers, he knew that no wound existed on his arm. But Jim…

Jim had climbed to his feet to walk to the cave entrance where he gazed around. The sun was bright, the sky blue—and no damage appeared among the trees. No broken branches were scattered on the ground. He looked back. “Artie… the storm.”

Artie joined him. “Jim, the wind tore branches off those trees!”

“I know.” He hesitated. “You said you had a dream. Was I… in it?”

“Yeah.” Artie turned to face his partner. “You were killed.”

Jim nodded. “And you had your arm torn up by an oversized wolf.”

Artie exhaled loudly. “What the devil?”

Jim shook his head. “I don't know. We’re here. I’m alive. You’re not injured. Dr. Alpheus…”

“He said they were charged with testing men to find the most noble and purest of heart.” Artie grinned crookedly. “Seems we passed muster.”

Jim smiled briefly with some bemusement. “Halcyon… do you suppose…?”

“Let’s find out.” Artie turned toward the horses.

“We still have the colonel waiting for us,” Jim reminded as he followed.

“Well, we’re a day late already. It’s on our way to the train. Just a little detour.”

As they rode they noted no signs at all of the storm that had battered the area. They also talked about the “dream” and compared notes. All matched exactly. Jim even had a memory of what had been said after he “died.”

“I know what Perdita told you,” he said as they rode side by side.

Artie nodded. That meant Jim also knew what he had said to Alpheus. “I was furious that they were all standing there smiling. But of course, they knew.”

“They knew,” Jim concurred softly. He pointed ahead. “Artie, that is where the waterfall was.”

Artie had been gazing at the site already. The rocks were there, but no water poured from them. Neither was particularly surprised. Still, they headed through the woods in the direction they had traveled previously. When they came upon the area where Halcyon had existed, only bare ground and more trees were visible.

Jim leaned on the pommel of his saddle as he surveyed the scene. “Artie, you said something—in the dream—about a story your grandmother told you. Was that true? I mean, do you actually have that memory?”

“Yes. Whether Halcyon is—was that legendary cursed town, I don't know.”

“Well, we’d better head for the train. We are going to have one angry colonel to face.”

W*W*W*W*W

Le temps fuit, et nous traine avec soi: Le moment ou je parle est deja loin de moi.
[Time flies and draws us with it. The moment in which I am speaking is already far from me.]
—Epitres (III, 47), Nicolas Boilleau-Despreaux (1636-1711), French poet, critic and satirist

Colonel James Richmond came to his feet at the rear door of the parlor car opened. “Gentlemen! Good to see you.”

“Colonel,” Artie said quickly, pulling off his hat, “we’re sorry we’re late. Some strange things…”

Richmond frowned. “Late? You’re a day early! I was just beginning to enjoy this den of luxury.”

Jim looked at Artie and Artie looked at Jim. “What day is it?” Jim asked.

“Tuesday the fourth. Are you two all right?”

Artie sighed. “I guess so.” How did that happen? Not only did we not lose a day, we seemed to have gained some time!

Richmond consulted his pocket watch. “Actually, I’m glad you are early. I have to make that train east. We can get started to San Francisco now and I’ll be in plenty of time.”

Jim was pulling off his jacket, needing to do something to disguise his perplexity. They had already decided on the story they were going to tell their superior, and none of it had to do with the town of Halcyon. Now it seemed they did not need to give any excuse. “Colonel, why don’t you let us freshen up, as well as instruct the crew to fire up and start rolling. Then we can give you our report on what happened in Eureka.”

“That’s fine,” the colonel replied. “And perhaps you can explain why you thought you were late.” He smiled. “Which brings me to something else. I’m instructed by President Grant to give the two of you a furlough of four weeks. I think you need it!”

Epilogue

Jim was grinning as he put his glass aside and got to his feet, holding out his hand. “Welcome home, partner. Did you have a good trip?”

“Excellent,” Artie replied, gripping that hand warmly after he dropped his two suitcases on the floor of the varnish car. “But it’s good to be ‘home.’ How was San Francisco?”

“Everything I expected and hoped. Great food, lovely ladies. Even saw a couple of plays. Above all, no trouble intervened. All relaxation. I presume you attended Lily’s performances a few times.”

Artie chuckled as he went to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a small whiskey. “Every performance. And we managed to have a few hours away from the theater together as well. She was marvelous in the play, Jim. I brought a few of the reviews. You can read them later.” He took a sip of his drink and sat down on the nearest chair as Jim settled back onto the settee. “I also had some time to myself while she was in rehearsals, and I spent a few hours at the public library. New York has a fine one you know.”

Jim gazed at his partner. “And what did you find there?”

Artie leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Remember I told you about the legend my grandmother told me about? Well, I found a book full of Russian folk tales, and among them was a story about a village that was populated mostly by young people who were lazy and refused to work. They wanted only to party and drink and commit sin.”

“Sounds like the one you told me about.”

“I know. According to the legends this happened centuries ago, before recorded history, of course. The gods became angry with this village and caused the entire town, people and all, to disappear. According to the story, the inhabitants of this village must atone for their licentiousness by looking for and rewarding the… get this… men of the noblest character and purest of heart.”

Jim’s grin was wry. “Like us.”

Artie chuckled. “I guess so. There is no explanation about how these men are chosen, but when they are, they are subjected to a number of ordeals or trials. If they pass they return to their lives.”

Now Jim frowned. “What happens if they fail the tests?”

“If they do not die during the ordeals, they are assimilated into the village. This of course explains why some men have vanished, never to be seen again.” Artie’s tone was wry.

“And if they pass?”

“They’re returned to their normal lives… according to this legend, with no memory of their experience in the village.”

“But that’s not true, Artie. We remember.”

“I know. But we remember it as a dream—a shared dream. One we really cannot tell anyone. I did tell Lily, however.”

“Did she believe you?”

“She said she did. But I’m not sure.”

The telegraph key clattered. With a sigh, Artie got to his feet and went to the desk, pulling the key from its case as he picked up a pencil. For several minutes the key chattered on and Artie wrote, while Jim listened soberly. Finally, Artie dropped the pencil, tapped his acknowledgement code on the key, and shoved it back into its box.

“That didn’t take long.”

“Well, as the colonel’s message says, we’re rested and alert, right? We can handle a simple job like a murdering swindler who wants to take over the state of Nevada.”

“I suppose so. I was hoping for a little time to savor being rested and alert. Jim?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it some kind of dream or hallucination, or did we really go to Halcyon and experience what we did?”

“I have no idea, pal. I just have no idea.”

“Well, I’m glad we both passed the tests, even if you had to die to do it.”

Jim grinned. “Glad to be of service, partner. Now we’d better give the crew the latest instructions and head for Reno.”

THE END

Brave spirits are a balsam to themselves,
There is a nobleness of mind that heals
Wounds beyond salves.
—William Cartwright (1611-1643), English poet

The Russian legend, to my knowledge, does not exist. I simply used my imagination, basing my story somewhat on another legend, that from which the musical “Brigadoon” was derived.