The Night of the English Invasion
Chapter 1
The Bundle
As usual with my stories you will find very little detail. I just can't be bothered. Also I have been suffering from a problem with concentration for several months – apologies to those whose stories I have delayed reading and reviewing for this reason.
Merci, Andamogirl, who encouraged me to finish this story and even offered to finish it for me, if I was not up to it. I'm sure she would have made a very good job of it, probably better than I have but, for the sake of Artie's well-being and because I prefer our heroes with their clothes on, I was forced to finish it myself.
No thanks at all go to my dog, Trip, who was constantly asleep on my lap, regularly danced with his paws over my keyboard and scratched the door to be let out all day long, thus slowing down the writing of this story.
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On the way from where they were to where they are going
James West and Artemus Gordon were sitting in the varnish car of the Wanderer, discussing their upcoming visit to their friend Sweetie.
"I think I'd better go on ahead and tell her you're still alive, while you stay out of sight," Artie said.
"How do you think Sweetie will handle the news that I'm not dead after all?" Jim asked.
"Well, put it this way, I'm gonna make sure she's not holding anything valuable when I tell her," Artie replied with a grin.
"Good idea," Jim said, smiling.
"Do you still plan to wear your bullet-proof vest?" Artie asked.
"I know I joked about that but I don't think it'll be necessary. I can't believe her husband would let her loose with a firearm and I'm certainly not going to let her near mine. So we should be relatively safe. It'll be good to catch up with Lance and find out how he's getting along as a country doctor. I guess it was too dangerous living with her on an army post with all those explosives around," he quipped.
"To be fair, he was planning on leaving the army anyway, whether he married or not; his wedding to Sweetie just brought the decision forward slightly," Artie said.
"You're right; she's a good woman, Sweetie. Just think how she was willing to give up everything to dedicate her life to looking after me. I know it was partly her fault I was in that situation but she didn't have to offer to do that, and she was so brave, holding back her tears because she knew she'd have to give up Lance. I don't think I've ever met a woman before who was that noble."
"Because the women you get mixed up with are usually the criminal sort, or floozies," Artie accused.
"Occupational hazard," Jim explained, shrugging his shoulders.
"Anyway, Sweetie was terribly upset when she heard about your 'death' and she was kindness itself to me. I was just focused on finding your 'killers', weary from travelling around the clock to try and catch up to them. Sweetie was like an oasis in the desert, she just sat and listened to me and cooked me delicious food."
"Her fight with Jasper must have cheered you up too," James said, attempting to lighten the mood. "I wish I'd been there."
"It was touch and go whether she would win it," Artie said with a chuckle. "And she wasn't at all embarrassed that her underwear was being paraded around the garden in sight of anyone who cared to look."
"That sounds like Sweetie. You'd better leave Jasper with me when you go to give her the news. One shock at a time will be enough. It's a good job I get on so well with the little fellah."
"Yeah, you not only steal all the pretty women from under my nose but you've taken my dog too."
"Come off it, Artie, you know you're more of a cat person, they suit your habits of sitting around reading text books or pottering in your laboratory. Dogs like to be with active people like me. Where is Jasper, by the way?" he asked, looking around the room to see if he could spot him lying asleep somewhere, giving the lie to his assertion.
They searched the train, calling the dog's name but didn't find him.
"Oh no," Jim said. "Don't tell me we left him at the last station. It'll take ages to turn back and get him and we'll have to get authorisation from the railroad."
"Maybe he's on the back platform," Artie suggested, grasping at straws. "I know there's not much room but..."
"Let's take a look," Jim said, moving to the door.
"Wait a moment, I'll ask Orin to slow down the train," Artie said, reaching for the speaking tube that connected their living quarters with the engineer.
True to his personality, Jim didn't wait for the order to be carried out but went straight over and opened the door. He stepped out, clasping the guard rail and almost treading on Jasper's tail.
"What's wrong, boy?" he asked, hearing the dog whine. "Are you injured?" Then he realised that Jasper was not the only thing on the back platform. He was snuggled up to a bundle of blankets, resting his paw protectively on top, and was looking up at his master with soft brown eyes. "What have you got there, boy?" Jim asked, moving closer. He almost leapt back in alarm when the bundle let out a wail and he saw one small, pink hand appear, just as the train began to slow down.
Jim stroked the dog. "Good boy," he said, then leaned over and picked up the bundle. He pulled back the blanket to examine the contents and found himself looking down into the screwed-up face of a small baby." He steadied himself and turned back to the door, where Artie was standing.
"Here, take this," he said, handing the infant over and turning back to reach for the dog.
Jasper was already making for the door to follow his tiny human charge, nearly upending Jim in the process. "Whoa!" Jim exclaimed, righting himself and following partner, baby and dog back into the varnish car.
The baby was screaming its dislike at being woken up and manhandled. Artie was holding it at arm's length, bobbing it up and down,
"Do you know what you're doing?" Jim asked.
"What do you think?" Artie complained.
"I just thought, because you're older than me..."
"What's that got to do with it?"
"You must have come across some babies."
"Where would that be, Jim? When I was travelling the country as an actor or maybe as a spy during the civil war?"
"Yeah well..."
"Well, I don't know any more about babies than you do."
"At least you've stopped it crying," Jim said, as the child gulped back its tears and gurgled at them. "Whoa! What's that terrible smell?"
If possible, Artie held the baby even further away from him and grimaced in disgust. "I think it just filled its nappy," he said, trying to breathe through his mouth and not his nose.
"Just what we need," Jim said.
Artie shoved the baby into Jim's arms before he had a chance to dodge him. "Here, you take it to your compartment and I'll fetch what we'll need to clean it up," he said.
With equal distaste, Jim carried the baby warily toward his bedroom. Balancing it in the crook of his arm, he grabbed a gabardine cloak from a nearby chair and placed it on the bed before laying the baby on top of it.
Just then Artie bustled in, carrying a bowl of warm water and a flannel, also a pot with some kind of gel in it.
"What's that?" Jim asked.
"It's a refined grease, called petroleum jelly, for use on the skin as a barrier to moisture. It was formulated by a Mr Chesebrough. I've been using it in the laboratory as a lubricant. I thought it would be the best thing to put on the baby's bottom, once I've cleaned it."
Jim nodded. Artie was usually right about these things. He peeled away the layers of blankets from the baby and lifted its gown so that Artie could unpin its nappy. Jim had just exclaimed, "It's a boy!" when a stream of pee hit Artie full in the face. "Bulls-eye!" Jim said and Artie gave him and then the baby a filthy look.
Artie used his handkerchief to wipe the moisture from his face and neck while Jim took a closer look at the blankets that had been swaddling the baby. "Hey!" he said, "There's a note tucked inside."
"What does it say?" Artie asked.
"It says, 'Please look after my baby, Arthur, and keep him safe. Take him as far away from here as possible!' It's not signed."
Both men looked down at the baby. Just who was his mother and why did she send her baby away?
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To be continued