The Night of the Death Masks - alternate tag

by Andamogirl

Summer challenge with Tripidydoodah. I proposed to write a different end for "The Night of the Death Masks".

THE NIGHT OF DEATH MASKS – alternate tag

By Andamogirl

Author's note: Summer challenge with Tripidydoodah. I proposed to write a different end for "The Night of the Death Masks".

Done!

One shot / vignette.

Artie: Good at riddles, Colonel?

Richmond: Not very, why?

Artie: Why is Miss Veil's performance like this cuckoo clock?

Richmond: All right, why?

Artie: Because it just cuckooed four times, while the hands point to seven o'clock. When in actual fact the time happens to be twelve thirty.

The Night of the Death Masks

WWW

Denver, two days later, at night

In the Wanderer

Pouring himself a cup of strong and bitter molasses-like coffee (the same he prepared since the war and that only him and General then President Grant could drink), James West watched his partner enter the small galley looking furious. "Hey Artie, how was your day? Oh! That bad?"

He only got an ice-cold glare in response from an angry Artemus Gordon. He took a sip, slowly and then chuckled softly.

Pointing at the pot of coffee settled on the stove, Jim proposed, "Do you want a cup of coffee?" knowing that Artie hated his coffee, wanting to tease his best friend.

Shaking his head, Artie grumbled, "That brown half-liquid thing which one could use along with oakum to caulk a hull? No, thanks."

Still in teasing mode, Jim swallowed another mouthful of freshly brewed coffee. "How was your training at the fort?" And he was rewarded by a bear-like growl and his best friend almost bared his teeth at him. "Oh, don't make that face, Artie! I'm sure that 'how to use a Winchester 73' target practice course was fun. So, tell me, how was it?"

Lifting the collection of shooting cards he was holding, Artemus, his face flushed with vexation, limped toward his best friend. "it was humiliating! I felt humiliated! I know how to use a Winchester 73 and any kind of rifle, thank you very much. See this? I hit the target in the middle each time… I didn't need to waste my time there with a bunch of fresh US Army recruits, while I'm working on a dozen important inventions!" He shook the shooting cards. "See? I'm a very good shooter! Here are the evidence!" He dropped the shooting targets to the floor and opened the top drawer of the dresser pulling out a knife from it. He pointed the sharp knife at Jim and added, "It's your fault, Jim. You're the one who put in your report that I had missed you in that ghost town street… Well, actually I didn't miss you because I hit you, on your head, but I didn't kill you I mean." He paled a little at that memory. "And so I'm so happy I did."

He moved toward the table where a half of a vanilla sponge cake with a layer of custard cream and covered with a thick layer of crunchy chocolate was sitting on a plate, licking his lips with anticipated pleasure.

Smiling, Jim watched his companion cut a large piece of cake for himself – a cake Artie had made this morning for breakfast before leaving for Fort Brennan for his shooting training and that he had simply called 'Duet Paradise'.

He responded, "No, it's not my fault. Colonel Richmond ordered you to go there Artie, not me. He's the one who thought it would be a good idea to have that training session with a Winchester. He did it for your own good – and mine, as we are partners. We need to protect each other. Besides, I only put the truth in my report – like I always do."

Still vexed, Artie asked, "Why did he order me to do that? No one can forget how to use a rifle. Especially me, as I use it very often… I'm sure he did that to make fun of me after reading your report. He knows very well that I am a good shooter."

Falsely innocent, Jim said, "You think?"

Pointing an accusing finger at Jim, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Artemus said, "Oooh, it was your idea, I'm sure and Richmond was your accomplice."

With an impish look on his face, Jim took a new sip of steaming coffee. "No, it wasn't my idea and the Colonel is not involved in this," He lied. "And you have no proof."

Frowning, upset, Artemus said, "By saying that you just confessed you did it, Jim. I'll make you pay, Richmond and you. I don't know how yet, but I will." He pointed at his injured leg. "Because of your not-funny-at-all practical joke, I had to stand for hours with a leg injury! – and it hurts! The doctor told us not to use our injured legs, remember?"

Pointing at his own injured leg, Jim said, "Oh come on, it's a superficial wound Artie, you had much worse and didn't whine."

Irritated, Artemus replied, "I'm not whining." Then he almost pouted.

Jim said continuing, "The bullet grazed your leg. Like mine, it's no big deal." Seeing that his best friend was hurt, he added, "I'm sorry Artemus. I thought it would be fun and the Colonel too, but it's not. I didn't want to hurt you, but to help you to relax after what happened in Paradox – and help you forget the nightmare you had two nights in a row about you shooting me dead, I wanted you to get your mind off of it and the Colonel agreed. I'm sorry, please forgive me."

Raising his hand, Artie waved it in a dismissive gesture. "It's okay, Jim, it's nothing, I forgive you, and the Colonel too. You just wanted to help me."

Jim settled his empty cup on the table, and serious, he crossed his arms on his chest and said, "I don't understand… I was standing in the middle of that empty street in Paradox, not too far from you, I was like a sitting duck and you missed me with your rifle! I mean, you didn't kill me – and I'm really glad you didn't, because I'm still alive, but how is it possible? No one would have missed an elephant! How do you explain that? You didn't give me any explanation."

Sitting on a stool, wincing as his injured leg hurt, Artemus replied, "It wasn't my rifle but one of the sheriff's. And I had time to think about it today when Sergeant Hopkins was showing me how to use a damn Winchester!" He paused, calming down. He bit into the piece of cake and closed his eyes in bliss. He hummed in intense pleasure as the dark chocolate melted in his mouth.

Grimacing in pain as his bullet-wounded leg hurt, Jim sat gingerly in front of his best friend, on the second stool and asked, "So?"

His mouth full, Artie responded, "I didn't know it was you trying to kill me, Jim. A man wearing the same clothes you wore tried to kill me after I got out of the stagecoach. Then, you appeared, and of course I fired at you in response. I had to defend and save my life." But his words were so muffled by the cake filling his mouth that Jim didn't understand a single word.

Smiling, Jim said, "Manners! Didn't your mother ever tell you that you shouldn't talk with your mouth full? I didn't understand a single word of what you said."

Once the vanilla-custard-chocolate Duet Paradise was heading right toward his stomach, Artemus continued his explanation, "For me you weren't James West, but a man trying to kill me, I didn't know why, just that I had to kill him. Plus I had been drugged at the Como Creek's stagecoach station and my vision was a bit blurred and my mind a bit muddled too… so I didn't recognized you."

Jim nodded. "Same thing for me." Then he frowned, a bit upset, Jim said, "Are you telling me you didn't recognize me because I wasn't dressed in my usual blue suit and that I'm never injured? I have a green suit and a gray one too."

Artie nodded, "But you love the blue one more, and you wear it almost all the time, that's why the great James West 'always' wears a blue suit and he's never injured, and Emmett Stark knew that."

Looking at Artemus who was wearing his usual gray jacket and pants, he said, "Says the man who always wears turtledove-gray clothes."

Nodding Artie said, "Fair enough. And you can add who's injured on each mission too. And I do have a blue suit and a burgundy one. But I prefer the gray that's true. Anyway, that's why he dressed you in those clothes and put a bullet in your leg – and as the shooter never showed himself to you, you thought it was Emmett Stark who had injured you."

Jim nodded, "And when I saw Stark – I mean you disguised in Stark – fire at me, I fired back. Stark plan was very clever."

Artie nodded too. "Yes it was." He paused, rubbing his itching stitched wound through his pants. "To answer your question, I think that at the last moment, just before firing I unconsciously recognized your familiar silhouette, the way you stand ... and I diverted my rifle before it was too late, but I hit you anyway."

Touching his impeccably coiffed hair, Jim said, "Your bullet grazed my scalp. But I let you think I was more seriously hit."

Nodding in appreciation, Artie said, "And I believed it. Bravo."

Rubbing his chin pensively, Jim nodded. "It's a good explanation and I believe it. What did you tell me that before, I could have put it in my report, and avoided you having you that target practice?"

Artemus replied, "Why? Because I almost killed you and I could not think of anything else!" He watched his hand shake as a chill ran down his spine and he added, "Dear God! I'm trembling just thinking about it! I missed you by a hair!" He reached out and grabbed Jim's hand in his, pressing it "When I discovered it was you lying on the ground, that I had shot you, that I had killed you… I felt my heart stop in my chest. I was devastated, mourning. I had killed my brother…" he said, emotion breaking his voice.

Interlacing his fingers with Artie's, in a soothing way, Jim said, "But you didn't kill me Artie – and I didn't kill you either. Emmett Stark wanted me to kill you to break my heart, to make me suffer like hell, because he knows you are family. That's why he disguised you to look like him. At the end of the day, we arrested the Stark family and his accomplices are behind bars too. That mission ended well…" He stood and said, "Stay here, I'll be back in a few seconds."

He left the galley, limping and Artemus was puzzled. "Okay," he let out and cut another piece of his 'Duet Paradise' cake for himself.

Jim came back less than ten seconds later, holding his partner's monogrammed Colt which he placed on the small table next to the sponge cake.

Frowning, Artie immediately noticed that the butt of his favorite Colt had been nicely repaired – the missing piece had been replaced.

Taking his place back in front of Artie, Jim said, "When you were shooting innocent cards at the target practice, I repaired the stock. It's good as new!" Seeing Artie's soft brown eyes going wet with tears of gratitude, he smiled and added, "It was a pleasure to do it. I know it's your favorite gun." Then he waved a stern finger and continued, "But next time you want to hit someone with an empty gun Artie by throwing it… just don't do it. It doesn't work… But that gun saved your life – even empty, because when I saw the monogram on the butt, I knew it was you in the street – and not Stark, and I stopped shooting at you – offering myself as a target as the same time." Smirking, a mischievous glint in his eyes, he fished a stone out of his burgundy smoking jacket and shoved it in Artemus's hand. "Use that as a projectile, it works better, you'll see!" He chuckled. "Now you need stone-throwing practice, because your aim sucks."

Grinning wickedly, Artie took the piece of cake he had cut and mashed it on Jim's face. "My aim is perfect!" then he burst out laughing.

The end