Teaser

Artie was going to kill him, Jim thought as he rode back to the train. They were between assignments and in the middle of a brief layover in St Louis while the engine of the Wanderer underwent an overhaul, so Jim had headed off into the city for the afternoon. Only it wasn't afternoon anymore; it was full night. The sun had already sunk beneath the western horizon while the moon, plump and a couple of days from full, was sailing high in the eastern sky. Artie the mother hen was going to be worried sick that something had happened to Jim.

And yet what really had happened Jim considered to be simply absurd. Oh, not the part where he had struck up a conversation with a lovely young lady and impulsively invited her to dine with him in a fine restaurant, nor the part where he had accompanied said young lady - Diana Jones, her name was - to the theater for a matinee performance. No, the absurd part was that Jim had fallen sound asleep during the second act. He had awakened to the feeling of a hand shaking his shoulder as a voice called out, "Mister? Hey, mister, c'mon, wake up. Show's over. You need to go on home." Jim had opened his eyes to an empty theater save for himself and the anxious young usher - yes, even the lovely Miss Jones had abandoned him. Moments later the usher had escorted Jim outside and left him on the board sidewalk in front of the building, his eyes bleary, his head groggy.

He'd been so bleary and groggy in fact that he'd wondered momentarily if he should suspect the presence of a certain little wizard and his giant sidekick. But no. There had been no sign of either, no maniacal laughter floating on the breeze. At length Jim had stepped over to the nearest horse trough, worked the pump until fresh cold water gushed from the spigot, then caught a double-handful and splattered it all over his face.

Ah, that had cleared his head! Reinvigorated, he'd checked his watch, winced at how late it was getting, then whistled up his horse to head home.

He was nearly to the railroad yards now. First he rode up to the livery stable where he and Artie had arranged to board their horses during the layover, and turned Blackjack over to a stable boy. He paused for a moment to say good-night to Artie's chestnut gelding Henry, then set out on foot for the depot.

"Hey!" called a voice as Jim drew near the door. "Aren't you James West?"

Jim turned to find a policeman bearing down on him. "Yes, I am," he replied. "Is there a problem, officer?"

"Problem? Not for me, there isn't. Someone's looking for you. Would you mind coming with me?"

Jim hesitated; his eyes narrowed. What was going on here? "Actually, I do mind," he answered. "Why don't you tell me here and now who's looking for me and where you have in mind taking me?"

"Well, sir, it's just that…"

A second man in uniform emerged from the depot. "Problem, Clancy?"

"Why, no sir! I just found Mr West and I…"

"Ah, Mr West! It's high time you showed up! Now, just come along and let's get this over with." He reached for West's arm.

To find that West's arm was no longer within his reach. "Get what over with?" Jim asked. His tone was courteous, but his posture resolute. What was going on here? Were these even real policemen?

The second man sighed. "Clancy, go tell the others to call off the search." And as Clancy hurried to obey, the man added, "As for you, Mr West, you just come along now and stop making such a fuss."

"There's no fuss. There's just you telling me to come along and me wanting to know why." Jim spread his arms, still smiling winsomely. "Am I under arrest?"

The officer scowled. "Not yet, you're not, but if you keep giving me trouble, I'll…"

"You'll do what?" Jim was still smiling, but the look in his eye was becoming dangerous.

"None of your lip, you young reprobate! Now, come on!" The policeman yanked the truncheon from his belt and brandished it, smacking its length against his palm threateningly.

Jim shook his head and took up a fighting stance. All he wanted to do was go home. Why did he have to deal with this highhanded idiot-in-a-uniform right now?

The officer lunged at him, swinging the truncheon. Jim leaned out of the way, then seized the man's arm and twisted it up behind his opponent's back, easily relieving him of the weapon. "Now," said Jim reasonably, "let's talk. Who's looking for me and why?" And how, he also wanted to ask, did a man of such staggering intellect make it into the police force in the first place?

Before his prisoner could reply, young Clancy reappeared from around the far corner of the depot, followed by a couple more policemen. "Sergeant Flaherty!" he cried. "What's going on here? Mr West, let go of him!"

Two more officers came dashing around the corner, then still more, until there were nearly a dozen men confronting James West.

With a sigh, Jim released Flaherty. The man straightened the hem of his uniform with a jerk, then coldly glared at Jim and proclaimed, "You're under arrest!"

"On what charge?"

"On whatever charge I can think of! Get him, men!" Obediently, the officers swarmed James West.

The melee was brief and involved a great deal of flying bodies, none of them Jim's. By the time one final man came charging around the corner mere moments later and took in the sight, no less than seven officers were scattered about the depot porch in varying stages of consciousness.

And now the fight ended abruptly as that final man called out, "Jim!"

"Hey, Artie."

"What's going on, Clancy?" said Artemus Gordon. "When you came and told me you'd found Mr West, I had no idea I'd walk into a scene like this! I just wanted you officers to search for him, not try to subdue him!"

The few remaining policemen who weren't senseless melted back from Jim as Artie came forward and warmly clasped his friend's hand. "Are you a sight for sore eyes!" Artie exclaimed fervently. "Where've you been, Jim?"

West shot him a look askance. "In St Louis, of course. I rode in for the afternoon, remember? Now I knew you'd be upset with me for being gone till nightfall without sending you word, but I never expected you'd have search parties out looking for me!"

And now Artie returned the sideways glance. "Gone till after nightfall! What are you talking about? Jim, you rode into St Louis yesterday afternoon. You've been missing for over twenty-four hours! I haven't just been sending out search parties, buddy. I've been making arrangements to have the river dragged." Artie laid a hand on Jim's shoulder and added, "When you weren't back by noon today, well… I was afraid you were dead!"