The Night of the Dead Man's Revenge

by California gal

Colonel Richmond's wife asks his top agents for help when her husband disappears--and Jim & Artie find themselves in the middle of a deadly family plot!

THE NIGHT OF THE DEAD MAN'S REVENGE

Man... cannot learn to forget, but hangs on the past:

however far or fast he runs, that chain runs with him.
— Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900), German philosopher

Artemus Gordon opened the rear door of the varnish car, digging into his pocket as he did so, fully expecting to find the boy they had commissioned to go into the city and bring back several New Orleans' newspapers. Instead he stopped short and gaped at the woman standing on the platform. She gazed back at him resolutely.

"Artemus, may I speak to you and Jim?"

"Caroline!" he croaked in his astonishment. "I mean… Mrs. Richmond! What…? By all means, come in. Come in!"

Upon hearing his partner's exclamation, Jim West put aside the book he had been reading, and jumped to his feet, quickly rolling down his sleeves and grabbing for his jacket that was draped over a nearby chair. He was as amazed as Artemus. What was Caroline Richmond doing in New Orleans… alone?

Artemus looked again at the steely determination on the woman's face. She had been the belle of Charleston in her day, and even in her late forties was still a beautiful woman, the dark hair now muting toward a gray that seemed to match her eyes. He also saw deep sadness and concern in those gray eyes. He took her arm to guide her toward the divan.

"Mrs. Richmond," Jim said softly, "what's happened?"

As so often occurs in the face of genuine sympathy, her resolve was destroyed, her face crumpling as gloved hands went to her eyes. Artie pressed her gently to sit on the couch, taking the handkerchief Jim had retrieved from his pocket to place in her hands.

"It's all right now," Artemus said softly. "Just take your time." He looked up at Jim and saw that his partner was equally baffled. What could this be about? Has something happened to the colonel? No, we would have received a telegraph message.

After a minute or so, she regained control, lowering the handkerchief to her lap, crushing it in a clenched hand. "James is gone. He left me." Even after almost a quarter of a century of living in the north, the traces of a South Carolina accent remained in her speech.

"Never!" The word leapt from Artemus's mouth.

"Impossible," Jim echoed.

Caroline Richmond took a deep breath, and opened the fringed reticule she was carrying, withdrawing a folded piece of paper, which she handed silently to Artemus. Jim saw his partner's eyes widen, and when Artie passed it to him to read, he realized why. The note was short: "Caroline, I'm sorry. It has to be this way. James."

"Have you any idea what he means?" Jim asked.

The steadfastness was returning to her countenance. She had not faced down opposition from her family for marrying a young Yankee lieutenant by being soft-willed. "It's very simple. There's another woman. I… I saw her."

The two agents exchanged glances, and Artemus turned to go to the cupboard at the front of the car, pulling out a bottle and pouring some amber liquid into a small glass. He returned and sat down alongside her, offering the glass. "It's sherry. It'll help."

She accepted the glass and took a long swallow, coughed slightly. "Did… did either of you know? Please, I have to know."

Jim shook his head firmly. "No. And I don't believe it. The colonel is devoted to you. There must be more to it."

"Please tell us the whole story, Mrs. Richmond," Artemus said, as Jim moved a chair from the table over to where he could sit down and face her.

"There's really not much to tell. I was home, in Washington. Bradley is in New York, as you undoubtedly know. School ended two weeks ago, but he has been invited to go with a friend's family on their yacht, sailing in the Caribbean. He'll be home for a while in August before the university classes begin in the fall. Both Marian and Elizabeth are visiting friends in Vermont. They'll be gone all this month. James… the colonel… was in Chicago. He planned to attend a meeting in Indianapolis, and then be home for… for our anniversary late this month." Her voice broke slightly and she took a sip of sherry this time before continuing.

"Six days ago a boy came to the door with this note. I didn't see him but my housekeeper said the boy was just a ragamuffin. The note was in a plain envelope, and had not come through the postal system. I knew… I felt…" Caroline Richmond took a deep breath. "I felt as you did, that it could not be true, that it was some cruel hoax. I sent a telegraph message to his hotel in Chicago and received the reply he had departed the day before. When I contacted Indianapolis, they had not seen him. Discreet inquiries at the department office prior to that revealed they believed he was in Indianapolis. So… I hired a detective."

West and Gordon exchanged glances again, neither smiling openly. This was the southern belle they had become acquainted with over the years. She had married against her family's wishes, and then held the responsibility of running James Richmond's household and raising his children while he pursued his career, first in the army and then as head of the Secret Service. She was not a woman who sat back and waited for things to occur around her; she took action.

"I hired a Pinkerton man," Caroline went on. "Of course, James is well known to them, but they are also quite discreet. Within a day, information was telegraphed to me. James had been seen in the company of another man in Chicago, and the two of them boarded a train bound for Texas. The ticket was for Dallas, but I subsequently learned, through the detective's efforts, that the two men debarked in a small town somewhat north of Dallas, called Wine Creek."

She looked up at the two men for the first time since she began her tale, her gaze steeling again, challenging. "I immediately boarded a train for Texas. I too got off at Wine Creek… and I saw James. He was walking with a very lovely woman." She was daring them to say she had acted foolishly; neither did.

"You talked to him?" Artemus asked.

Her jaw tightened. "Of course not. I boarded the train again and came straight here. I knew where you were. Mr. Pike told me."

They had been in New Orleans for almost three weeks now, having finished an assignment in nearby Mississippi and deciding to take advantage of some off time in the famed bayou city. "What… would you want us to do?" Artemus asked. Solving marital problems is not exactly our line of duty.

"There's one thing more I didn't tell you," she said then. "The colonel was with this redheaded woman, as I said. The woman had hold of his arm. But Hilary was with them."

If she had intended to shock them, she accomplished that feat. "Hilary!" Jim exploded. "Your brother?"

"My brother," she affirmed. "The brother whose blackness caused my sin to fade to gray and allowed me to be accepted back into the folds of my family's affections." Her smile held irony.

"Excuse me, Caroline," Artemus said, and then corrected himself again, realizing his astonishment at finding her on the car's porch, along with her story, was still rattling him. "Mrs. Richmond. I thought he was dead."

"So did we all," she sighed. "It's terrible to say, but I wish he were. I grieved for the little boy he had been, but not for the man he became. But I'm positive it was he. I know my little brother."

Jim had been sitting with his elbows on his knees, intent on her story. Now he leaned back, crossing his arms. "Have you any idea what is going on?"

"None. And it's tearing me apart. I thought I knew my husband. I thought… I just don't know why he would be in Hilary's company, or how Hilary is alive, for that matter. I know what you're going to say. Perhaps James was being coerced. But no one was holding a gun on him when I saw him with Hilary and that… that woman. She was laughing. I couldn't see his face, but I know James was not being forced to be with her… with Hilary… at that moment."

"Did the detective come up with any information to indicate the colonel was… being unfaithful?" Jim asked quietly.

She looked down at her hands and the crumpled handkerchief for a moment, then lifted her eyes and shook her head. "Not so far. He has been unable to find out who the woman is, or where James might have met her. He's… he's still on the job tracking James's movements the last few months."

"There could be any number of explanations for this," Artemus said, "not the least of which being he is being coerced, but in such a way that it does not need to be enforced with a gun in his back."

Caroline frowned at him a moment. "Oh. You mean, someone threatening me or the children?"

"It's possible. Have you noticed anything, strangers hanging around?"

She shook her head quickly. "You know our neighborhood, our street. Strangers would be espied immediately. No, that can't be it. Unless the children…" Shadows of fear washed through the gray eyes.

"What we'll do," Jim interjected, "is arrange for men to keep an eye on them, especially the girls at the home they are visiting. It might be more difficult if Bradley is sailing, but one would think he would be safer there than on land. The watch will be conducted discreetly, of course. We don't need to alarm them. You haven't told them…"

"No, no. Certainly not! So you will go find the colonel, talk to him?"

Artemus nodded. "We will do just that… if it's possible. What I mean is, if he is being coerced, or held prisoner, we don't want to endanger him by showing up suddenly and exposing him to peril."

For the first time since her arrival, a smile touched her lips. "I suppose you'll try one of your famous disguises."

Artemus grinned. "The thought occurred to me. First off, we'll get you on your way home…"

She shot to her feet. "No! I want to come with you."

Both men rose and Jim put a hand on her arm. "Caroline… Mrs. Richmond… that would not be wise." They usually spoke of her as "Caroline" on the occasion her name came up in their own conversation, but had always addressed her formally upon meeting her at the Richmond home or elsewhere. "In the first place, we don't know what's going on, as you've said. Artie can go in disguise, but if you were seen, complications could arise. No, you need to go home and carry on as normally as possible. Just in case someone is watching."

"Do you think James could be in danger?"

"We just don't know," Artie responded. "That's why we have to be cautious. Would you ask the Pinkerton detective to contact us? He might have useful information."

"He's here in New Orleans," she said quickly. "I arranged for him to meet me here so that I could get the full report, rather than just what he wrote in telegrams. We can go to his hotel. His name is Liam O'Donnell."

Artemus saw the surprise on Jim's face, and while he experienced a mild shock himself at hearing the name, he wondered why. After all, they had known Liam was a Pinkerton man, having a reputation for being one of the best. The agents had met him at Liam's cousin's funeral. Cinnia O'Donnell had also worked for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. What did not surprise Artemus Gordon was when he noticed how his partner's expression closed down immediately. [See The Night of the Shattered Heart for Cinnia O'Donnell and her relationship to the agents.]

W*W*W*W*W

Memoria est thesaurus omnium rerum e custos.

[Memory is the treasury and guardian of all things.]
— De Oratore (I, 5), Cicero (Marcus Tullius Cicero), poet, philosopher, rhetorician, and humorist (106 BC-43 BC)

Liam O'Donnell's information was not very much different from what Caroline Richmond had provided, just a little more detailed. Liam was a man in his forties, with the O'Donnell copper hair and green eyes, a bit on the burly side. Artie remembered that Cinnia had said that her cousin was very successful when posing as a bartender or stevedore, usually fitting right in with a rough crowd, despite the fact that he was college educated. If Liam noticed Jim's rather restrained greeting, he gave no sign.

"It's quite puzzling to me," O'Donnell said as they sat at a table in the hotel's restaurant sipping rich black coffee. "Nothing I found indicated the colonel was involved in anything—whether a clandestine affair, or some other bit of chicanery. Nothing. He was attending to business in Chicago, which I gleaned had to do with recruiting a couple of men for the Secret Service. By all accounts, on the day before he was due to leave for Indianapolis, he boarded a train heading south instead, with a man I have not yet identified. As Mrs. Richmond has informed you, they departed the train at Wine Creek, Texas, rather than travel all the way to Dallas as his ticket entitled him."

"Was there any indication he had been contacted by other parties beyond possibly this man who accompanied him?" Artie asked.

Liam shook his head. "I particularly asked the hotel employees concerning his companions or visitors during his stay there. Every one of them swore he left the hotel alone every morning and returned alone every evening. They did not see him talking to anyone. I also found out where he was meeting these potential candidates and was informed that other than the men he interviewed, no one else was seen talking to him. I can't find a witness who saw him previously in the company of this fellow who accompanied him on the train, though obviously that contact occurred at some point. The people at the federal building gave the impression that Colonel Richmond was all business. One young man, a clerk, however, said that on the last day the colonel seemed a bit distracted. He could not really say why he got that impression, just that it was… there."

"You haven't been to Wine Creek?" Jim inquired.

"No. I gained my information from the conductor and porters who had made that run. I know Mrs. Richmond traveled there… against my advice."

"I had to," Caroline said sharply.

None of the three men spoke to dispute her, though each wanted to tell her she should have either instructed the detective to make the trip, or come to find the two agents earlier.

"I did find out something about Wine Creek," O'Donnell went on. "It's a cattle town, surrounded by ranches. Not overly prosperous by all accounts. The biggest property holder is a man named Reed Hilary."

Caroline gasped. "Hil! That's the reverse of his name!"

Liam showed confusion; Mrs. Richmond had apparently not informed him about spotting her supposedly deceased renegade brother. Artie quickly explained what Mrs. Richmond had told them, adding, "Hilary Reed was believed to have died when a blockade runner he was on was sunk in sixty-four, outside Mobile Bay. He was a dealer in contraband and other illicit trade goods, a great deal of which was suspected as stolen from warehouses and military stores in both north and south, then extorting outrageous prices, whether he was trying to sell to needy southerners or, for instance, bales of cotton to wealthy northern manufacturers. He was outlawed by both sides."

"So the colonel is in the company of his brother-in-law, believed dead nearly ten years ago?"

"Appears so, if Mrs. Richmond is correct." Artie looked at her.

"It was Hilary, I'm certain. And the name… he seems to have just switched his given name and his surname. But I don't understand any of it!"

"Which is why Jim and I are going to Texas."

"Please, Artemus. Let me go with you!"

Artie patted her hand. "Mrs. Richmond, you have to leave this to us now. We are old hands at this kind of business."

"Mrs. Richmond," O'Donnell said, "I would be glad to represent you in Texas."

Jim's head shot up. "That's not nec…"

"Thank you, Mr. O'Donnell," Caroline Richmond said quickly. "Jim, Artemus, it's not that I don't have complete faith in you, just as James always has had. I understand why you don't want me to accompany you, and I can accept it, if reluctantly. But please, allow Mr. O'Donnell to represent me, and work with you."

"Of course," Artemus said before his partner could speak. "I suspect you'll send him anyway, and it would be better if Liam was working with us." He smiled, carefully avoiding Jim's eyes. "Can you leave in the morning, Liam?"

"Certainly. I'll buy my ticket…"

"No, no," Artie held up a hand. "You'll come with us on the Wanderer so we can discuss the situation and make plans. You've never met Colonel Richmond have you?"

"No."

"Perhaps we could plant two undercover agents in Wine Creek. What do you think, Jim?"

Jim West knew when he was licked. "That should work."

W*W*W*W*W

Yet how much less it were to gain,

Though thou hast left me free,

The loveliest things that still remain,

Than thus remember thee.
— And Thou art Dead as Young and Fair, Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron), English poet(1788-1824)

Caroline Adelaide Reed Richmond made one more effort to convince the men to allow her to accompany them to Texas, but they were firm. As they saw her settled in her compartment on the northbound train that would take her to a connecting point and thence east to Washington, all three promised they would send her reports as often as feasible, and that they would do their best to not only find out what was going on, but bring her husband back to her… if she still wanted him.

Caroline had smiled ruefully. "Talking with the three of you caused me to realize that I was letting jealousy overcome common sense. James would not be involved with another woman. Please bring him home safely. That's all I will ask of you. However, I will insist on a full explanation of why he was in the company of that redhead!"

The two agents and the Pinkerton man then boarded the Wanderer where the engineer had arranged for their passage over the westbound lines toward Texas. Using public tracks was a tricky business; they did not want to encounter another locomotive on the same track from the opposite direction. They had already told Orrin Cobb where they wanted to go, and how far away he should halt the train from that destination. They did not want to travel all the way to Wine Creek, which had a small depot, as Caroline Richmond had when she espied her husband and "late" brother.

Artemus showed Liam to his quarters, talked a few minutes, then left him there to unpack, returning to the varnish car where he found his partner sprawled on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. He braced himself automatically as he heard the shrill call of the whistle, and the car began to move. "With any luck, we'll be in place tomorrow night," Artie said, pouring himself a bit of brandy. "So we'd better spend some time making plans."

"Going to be difficult to plan anything when we don't know what the devil is going on there."

Artemus perched on the sofa's arm. "That's where Old Tom will come in handy."

Jim looked at him. "Who's Old Tom?"

Artie pointed to himself with his thumb. "You're looking at him. I figure an old sot who hangs around the saloons ought to hear a lot of gossip. Not to mention cadge a few free drinks."

Jim smiled briefly. "Just don't let all that liquor go to your head."

"You know I've got an iron stomach, James. Plus a knack for dumping drinks when no one is looking. Liam thinks he'll go in as a cowboy looking for work."

That surprised Jim. First off, he had not heard O'Donnell say any such thing. Then again, Artie had been about ten minutes getting the Pinkerton man settled, so they must have talked some. Beyond that, despite that O'Donnell had put a horse in the next car with the agents' steeds, Jim had not had the opinion that a Chicago man, a detective agency man, would be that much of a rider.

"You sure about that?"

"Liam worked on ranches as a kid, and he's posed as a cowhand before. What's left is to know what you're going to do."

Jim pulled himself up to a sitting position. "I guess I'll just ride into town and see what I can see."

"That's probably a pretty good idea," Liam O'Donnell said, entering. "Artemus and I are going to need someone to report to—and to watch our backs."

Artie watched Jim's face and knew that his partner was realizing the same thing he was, that O'Donnell was deferring to Jim as the senior agent. Obviously Jim had not expected that to be the case. Artemus asked, "Do you plan to play tourist?"

Jim shrugged. "Something of that order, just passing through, laying over a day or two to rest my horse. I'll think of some excuse. Might even manage to meet Hilary Reed… or Reed Hilary, whichever he prefers."

"Liam, you said that Reed is the biggest property owner," Artie put in. "I presume that makes him the big frog in the local pond."

"Seems so." Liam brought a chair over from the dining area and sat down. "From the information I gathered, he's been there four or five years, started out small and expanded when other folks had troubles. One source stated that the local law is Reed's friend."

"Four or five years," Jim mused. "That leaves a gap between the date of his 'death' before he popped up again. Wonder what he was doing all that time?"

"Making money somewhere," O'Donnell supplied. "He seems to have plenty."

"Why would he want Richmond?" Artie pondered. "Presuming that he somehow forced the colonel to join him there. Why?"

"Revenge?" Jim put in. "I understood that although the entire Reed family was against Caroline's choice of a husband, Hilary was particularly incensed about it. Even challenged the young lieutenant to a duel, even though he himself was in his mid teens at the time."

"Which James Richmond wisely declined," Artemus said. "It is odd, when you think about it. Supposing Reed thinks that the colonel could help him mastermind some robbery. Why not force him to stay in his official position and feed information back to Reed? If we are right in believing that he somehow coerced Richmond to leave his family, that doesn't make a lot of sense."

"True," Liam concurred. "He could have used that same pressure—whatever it is—to compel the colonel to pass along information from his regular position as head of the Secret Service. Richmond's absence from his post—and his home—is going to be noticed eventually."

"It could be," Jim said slowly, "that Hilary Reed's motive is revenge… in the form of destroying the colonel's reputation."

All three men were silent for a long moment before Liam spoke. "I guess that's what we need to find out. Along with learning whether Colonel Richmond is there of his own free will."

Artie glanced at his partner and knew that as usual their thoughts were the same. He wanted to protest such a preposterous idea; however, he was aware that such things happened. They knew Colonel James Richmond as well as they knew any man in the department, yet they were not privy to his innermost thoughts and feelings. He would not be the first man to have an outer façade that completely disguised what was going on inside him.

The plan devised was that Artemus would enter Wine Creek first in his disguise as an old sot looking for handouts, but willing to do chores to earn a drink or meal. He would spend at least a day learning as much as he could. Liam would follow as a down-on-his luck cowboy. One other thing the Pinkerton man had been able to discern earlier about the Wine Creek area was that few were hiring hands at this time, so he was unsure that he would actually get an offer of work. For appearances sake, he would hire on elsewhere, at least for a short time, but the job he really wanted was at Reed's place.

The two men would find a way to communicate and then Liam would leave town in his quest for work in the surrounding region, meeting with Jim to pass on whatever Artie had learned. Finally, Jim would drift in, as he suggested earlier, with the story of just passing through and laying over for a rest.

During that day, Artemus noticed how Liam occasionally turned a thoughtful gaze toward Jim West, especially if Jim was not looking in his direction. Artie could almost read the Pinkerton man's thoughts, but he did not say anything. Finally, late that evening, when Jim excused himself to turn in while the other two men were engaged in a chess game, Liam stared toward the closed door.

"Does he ever talk about her?" he asked quietly.

Artie shook his head. He did not need to ask who the "her" was. "Never. Jim is not a man to normally display his emotions. But I know he's never forgotten her… I think he's never completely gotten over Cinnia. She was one in a million, and I believe he feels he lost his chance."

"We all miss her," Liam sighed. "Even as a child, Cinnia was… different… and special. Her brothers and I could never beat her at anything—at least not easily. Not riding, not base ball, nothing. And she was smart as a whip. Sometimes I blame myself for getting her involved with the agency, yet I also know that she was never going to settle down to be a farmer's wife."

"Do you ever see Sam McKee?"

Liam nodded. "Once in a while. He retired last year. I think losing Cinnia took something out of him too. She was like another daughter to him." O'Donnell smiled slightly. "Sam told me once that he had looked forward to having Jim West as a 'son-in-law.' He was that certain of the two of them."

"Nothing is ever certain," Artie smiled, "but I know my partner well enough to predict that something would have come out of the matchup."

W*W*W*W*W

We are so accustomed to wearing a disguise before others that

eventually we are unable to recognize ourselves.
—François De La Rochefoucauld (1613-1680), French author & moralist

The old man leaned over with an audible grunt as he picked up the cigar butt on the floor of the Queen of Clubs, but the four men at the nearest table did not pay him any mind. Old Tom was just another in a string of drunken bums who policed the floor in order to earn a drink or two. They did not even notice, or care, that he leaned against the nearby wall, wheezing as he caught his breath after the exertion, their conversation continuing.

Artemus Gordon was glad that one man in particular did not look too hard at him. Colonel James Richmond knew him well, and might even see through the disguise. Artie had considered wearing glasses to camouflage his eyes, aware that that was one feature Richmond might pick up on, but decided against the spectacles. An old drunk likely would have lost his eyeglasses long ago, if he had ever owned any in the first place.

Artie wished he could linger and hear more of the conversation, but what he had heard was interesting if puzzling. Picking out Reed Hilary—or Hilary Reed—had not been difficult. To begin with, the owner of the Queen of Clubs, one George Southworth, had called out a greeting to "Mr. Hilary" when the four men entered a while ago, and the slender man with silver hair and gray eyes had nodded back. But Reed had his sister's eyes, which would have been a giveaway if identifying him had been necessary otherwise. Reed was doing most of the talking at the table. Richmond had not said a word, keeping his eyes downcast.

He looks tired, Artie decided as he shuffled away, carefully holding the tin pie plate on which he'd been gathering the butts and other trash he had picked up. Tired, and wishing he was somewhere else. Yesterday morning Artemus had ridden to within a mile of town, accompanied by Liam, who took the chestnut back to the train. He had walked the remaining distance, arriving in town suitably dusty and perspiring.

Since his arrival in Wine Creek, Artie had not learned anything of real significance. The bartender, also named Tom, was a talkative sort, so Artemus had artfully picked his brains regarding the situation in the town and surrounding area. However, he had not learned much more than they already knew, that "Reed Hilary" was the boss and that the sheriff, one Jess Metcalf, was in Hilary's pocket. Everybody knew that, Tom-the-bartender stated, but there wasn't much folks could do about it.

"Old Tom" barely glanced toward the front door as he headed for the trash bucket behind the bar with his pickings, but that glance was enough to recognize the sturdy form of Liam O'Donnell. The Pinkerton man was attired in grubby trail clothes, his boots well worn, denim trousers patched, and the brim of his hat floppy from having been used as a bucket too often, as well as having seen many a rainstorm. He also had not shaved in a couple of days, so that his jaw had a rusty cast to it. For his part, Liam simply ambled toward the bar, not looking around at either the old bum or the only other customers at the far table in the mid afternoon hour.

Artemus dumped the contents of his pie plate into a bucket behind the bar then shuffled over toward Liam, where the bartender Tom was serving the cowboy a beer. "Is that 'nough, Mr. Tom?" Artie asked eagerly, his voice rough and croaking. "Time for a beer?"

Tom lifted an eyebrow, glanced at Liam with some resignation, and nodded. "All right, all right. You've been dry for a long while. But I want you out there with a bucket washing off the front porch soon's you finish."

"Sure, sure! Thankee, thankee! Long dry spell. Howdy, mister. Look like you come off the trail."

Liam lifted his beer. "Long dry trail." He took a hefty swallow, wiped the suds off his grizzled face with his sleeve. "Looking for a job."

"Bad place to look," Tom-the-bartender said, placing a glass of brew before the eager old-timer. "Nobody hiring around here that I heard of."

Liam sighed noisily. "Been hearing that all over. Getting' so I'm feelin' willin' to do most anything for some food money. You need any help around here?"

"Sorry, no. You might ask down to the livery. Fred down there sometimes hires fellas for a day or two to swamp out the stalls."

"Thanks," Liam replied sourly, then muttered under his breath, "I ain't no manure shoveler."

Artie chuckled. "Man's gotta be way down on his luck afore he does that, huh?" He drained his beer. "Well, if'n I want supper and another beer or two, I'd best get busy. Say, if you want to wash up, there's a pump out back. That's where I'm goin' to get a bucket of water."

He turned and shambled toward the rear door, not looking back at either Liam or the men at the table. The pump was on a platform about twenty feet behind the building, and some distance from the two outhouses sitting out there. Artie made a show of looking for a bucket that did not leak from among several that were piled nearby, killing more time by taking a drink of water from the pump. About then Liam wandered out.

Liam, too, went to the pump and put his head under while working the handle. "Anything?" he asked.

Artie scratched under his fake beard, turning his back to the building. "That was Hilary Reed in the green coat at that table, and the colonel in the gray one."

Liam scrubbed his hands over his wet face, and rubbed the water out of his hair. "I recognized the colonel from a picture Mrs. Richmond showed me. Hadn't seen Reed before. Anything else?"

"Only that Richmond does not appear to be here willingly. I heard Reed saying something like, 'come off it, James, you're going to be a rich man when this is finished.' But that's about it. They weren't saying much at the table."

Liam now used his shirttail as a towel. "So something is in the works."

"Seems so. Just don't know what. Not much to pass onto Jim."

"Well, every little bit helps. I'll see about getting odd jobs around town and listen to gossip. Somebody has to have some knowledge to pass on. Have you met the local law?" Liam tucked his shirt back inside his trousers.

"Yeah, he was in the saloon yesterday. As unsavory a chap as you'd ever want to encounter." Artie made a show of checking to see if the bucket he had chosen was leaking.

"I caught a glimpse of him when I rode in and I agree. Looks more like a gun hand than a sheriff."

"Likely he's both. Question might be why Reed needs to have the badge under his thumb. And what else does he control?"

"I'll see what I can find out. I'll try to check back with you later today. Maybe we can scrape up more to tell Jim." Smoothing his damp hair with his hands, Liam turned toward the buildings.

Artie covered his mouth with his hand, scratching his nose, to hide the smile that he could not stop. "I have no doubt my partner is wearing a hole in the floor of the parlor car, pacing. He's not the most patient man you'd want to meet."

W*W*W*W*W

Oh, how cruelly sweet are the echoes that start

When Memory plays an old tune on the heart!
— Journal (vol. IV, Old Dobbin, st. 16), Eliza Cook (1818-1889), English author & poet

Jim West swung into the saddle with a sense of relief. He had hated remaining on the train while Artemus and Liam O'Donnell rode off toward Wine Creek. Even playing poker with the train crew last night had not helped very much. He had been distracted and the trio from the engine had won one hand after another, much to their glee. Bad enough that the man the agents greatly admired appeared to be in serious trouble, but to have O'Donnell involved… too many memories had been dredged up, and raw nerves exposed. Jim had not slept well the last two nights.

A light touch of his heels to the black's sides was all that was required to set the steed into a ground-eating gallop. Blackjack did not like inactivity either. He reached the meeting place, a hill that overlooked the town, well before the Pinkerton man, which gave him time to compose himself and his thoughts.

The last person he had wanted to encounter in New Orleans was Cinnia O'Donnell's cousin. Jim had met the man just once previously… at Cinnia's funeral. Liam had been the one who recruited Cinnia to help the detective agency with a case he was working on. She had done so well and liked it enough that she applied for a position, and had been accepted. Jim and Artemus had met Cinnia in California while searching for Sweet Alice Benning. She and her partner, Sam McKee had been on the same case.

Jim remembered how the vivacious woman with the mass of coppery hair and emerald green eyes had initially rubbed him the wrong way. He had not understood it at first. He usually enjoyed being in the company of a beautiful woman. Slowly he came to grasp just what a hold she had taken to his senses, to his soul, to accept it, even treasure it. During those last hours they spent together, he had begun to think of a new direction in his life, something he had never anticipated happening: life with a woman he could call his own.

Jim got to his feet when he spotted the rider approaching from town. Not difficult to recognize O'Donnell's burly form atop the sturdy pinto. They had chosen this morning hour to meet because for the job-hunting cowboy to ride out early would not be unusual. He would want to catch foremen and owners before they headed out on the day's labors. He's a better rider than I would have expected.

Liam heaved a sigh as he dismounted. "Sorry if I'm late, Jim. I had to earn my breakfast at the café by chopping some wood for the stove." He flexed his sore hands.

Jim smiled briefly. "The trials of a working man. Anything interesting going on?"

"Not a lot yet. Artemus is working in the town's biggest saloon, the Queen of Clubs. Seems to be the place Reed frequents, and he was there yesterday with Colonel Richmond and a couple of other men—one of whom matches the description of the man who escorted Richmond to Texas. Artemus overheard Reed tell the colonel that he should be happy to be in line for a lot of money. But Richmond doesn't look very happy."

Jim dropped to his haunches, snapped at a blade of grass with his hand. "Sounds more like our theory that Richmond has been forced into this is correct. Big questions are what did Reed do to convince the colonel to cooperate, and what does he expect the colonel to do? It seems to me that if Reed had threatened Caroline and the children, the colonel could have acted to place them under protection."

Liam also knelt down. "Yes, those are the questions. No sign yet of the redheaded woman Mrs. Richmond spotted. Hard to say whom she might have been. I hung out at the Queen of Clubs last night, thinking she might be someone working there, but if so, she never came to work."

"Reed's wife?"

Liam shook his head. "I don't know. I haven't heard that he's married—or not. I'm on my way out to the Reed ranch to look for work. Maybe I'll spot her out there."

"I guess there's nothing for me to do except ride on into town and see what transpires. I'm guessing that Richmond is staying at the Reed ranch, and not in town?"

"Far as I know. They left about an hour after I first arrived in town and did not come back. I got the bartender into some conversation and he said that 'Mr. Hilary' comes into town every other day or so. He didn't know the colonel, said he was a stranger. The other two apparently work on the Box RH, Reed's ranch."

Jim straightened now. "Well, I'll get myself set up in town. Is there a hotel?"

"More like a boarding house. Just across the street from the Queen of Clubs, fortuitously. Seems to be run by a handsome older lady by the name of Mrs. Shea. She was very sad that she couldn't provide any work for a fellow Hibernian when I called on her. All she was able to offer was a ham sandwich and a cup of coffee."

Jim had to chuckle. "Maybe I'll change my name to O'West to get close to her. Sounds like she might be in a position to know a great deal of what goes on in Wine Creek."

"I got that impression. She shared a bit of gossip with me about a man who cleans her stable, but nothing about Reed, and of course, I could not ask her straight out."

"Maybe I can encourage her to talk," Jim said. "I haven't had breakfast yet so I'll go on into town and get acquainted."

Liam stood up, picked up the reins of his horse. "Jim, sometime when you're in Iowa, my uncle would be happy if you stopped by."

Jim turned away to mount. "We don't seem to be in that state very often, or when we are, we're traveling straight through."

"Just thought I'd mention it. Good luck in Wine Creek. I'll be getting in touch with Artemus to let him know if I come up with any information."

Jim merely waved as he started the black horse moving down the hill toward the road that led into town. How many times had he come so close to suggesting to Artie that they make a slight detour so that they would indeed pass close to the area where the O'Donnell farm lay in Iowa? Close to the small church and the cemetery… Somehow he always lost his nerve. Facing Loveless and his ilk was easier.

Wine Creek, Jim discovered, was a great deal like dozens of other towns he and Artemus had traveled through or visited over the years. Rutted dusty streets, buildings of all shapes and sizes, some in excellent condition, others badly in need of upkeep and paint. He dismounted in front of "Mrs. Shea's Rooming House," conscious that he was the object of attention of several people who were on the sidewalks and porches in the vicinity, one of whom was an unshaven but bald man wearing a badge standing directly across the street in front of the Queen of Clubs.

Barely glancing around, Jim pulled the saddlebags and bedroll off the back of the saddle, gave the black horse a pat, and mounted the steps to the porch. The door opened before he had an opportunity to even reach for the handle. The woman was in her fifties, with snow-white hair, clear blue eyes, and as Liam had commented, handsome indeed. In her youth she would have been a beauty, Jim judged.

She looked him up and down. "Come for a room?"

Jim pulled off his hat. "If you've one available, ma'am."

After a moment more of scrutiny, she stepped back to allow him to enter the foyer with its polished hardwood floor and colorful braided throw rug. Noticing her glance, Jim carefully wiped his boots on that rug, then followed her through a door into a larger room, one that looked as though it had been a formal parlor at one time, but now a desk was located at one side, with a series of mailbox slots on the wall behind it, along with a rack of keys.

"I'm Mary Shea, owner of this establishment."

"James West, ma'am."

"West. So you're not Irish? I thought with those green eyes you might be."

Jim smiled. "Not recently at least."

"How long will you be with us, James?"

"I'm not sure. Two or three days, perhaps longer. I've been on the trail for a week and both my horse and I can use a break."

"Got far to go?"

"Mexico. But I don't have a deadline to get there."

She picked up a ledger book, then paused, gazing at him a long moment. "James West. Are you that government man I've read about in the newspapers?"

"I do work for the government." Jim smiled slightly. At times, notoriety was an advantage, at other times, not so much.

"Hmm. Sign here." Opening the book, Mrs. Shea produced a pen and a bottle of ink from a drawer of the desk. "Will you be wanting meals?"

"I'm not sure," Jim replied, signing. "Are there any restaurants in town?"

"Two. But you won't find food as good as what you'll get here."

Jim grinned. "Then I'll try to take as many as I can at your table, Mrs. Shea. Thank you. Do you happen to have a room overlooking the street?"

"Is that important?" Her blue eyes were sharp on his face.

Jim suddenly got the impression that this woman was more than just a gossip. "It might be," he replied soberly.

She just nodded, coming around the desk. "This way."

"Have you lived here long?" Jim asked, as they ascended carpeted stairs, hoping the query sounded merely like one of curiosity.

"I came here as a young bride thirty years ago," she replied. "My husband and two other men founded Wine Creek."

Jim did not miss the sharp bitterness in her tone. "Interesting name for a town… and a creek."

Reaching the landing, she guided him down a hallway. "The area was in a drought when we arrived, and we were short of water. When we found the creek, the water was like the best French wine to us."

He laughed. "I can imagine."

The room was not overly large, but it was spotlessly clean and nicely furnished, with a single bed, a wardrobe and a dresser. A small table in one corner held a basin and pitcher, with a mirror above it. Mrs. Shea told him that he could get hot water in the kitchen at any time—but did not offer to bring it to him.

"Have you had breakfast?" she asked as she went toward the door.

"No, ma'am."

"Come down when you're ready and I'll fry a couple of eggs for you. I'll be serving the noon meal promptly at twelve; supper is at six. Breakfast I'm a little more lax with. I know not everyone is an early riser like me."

"You have many other boarders?"

"Just two right now. The schoolteacher, Mr. Hervey, and Mrs. Grace, a widow and an old friend of mine."

"Is there a place I can get my horse taken care of?" Jim asked.

"Well, there's a livery down the street, but I suspect you want a horse like that to have fine care. I have a stable out back if you want to look after him yourself. There's oats and hay."

Jim thanked her, smiling. She had obviously gotten a look at Blackjack, and did not have a high opinion of the local hostler. He would, he told her, take the horse to her stable and then come in for some hot water to clean up before eating.

When she had gone, Jim went to the window, pushing the light curtain aside slightly as he gazed down at the porch of the Queen of Clubs. He was not surprised to see the old man come shuffling out with a broom. Nor did he miss the sharp look the old fellow cast in the direction of the horse hitched in front of the boarding house. Artie then simply went about sweeping the porch, never giving the horse a second glance.

W*W*W*W*W

There are times when I wonder why I'm in this business. And this is definitely one of them! Artemus Gordon plunged his hands in to the sudsy water and began scrubbing the used beer and whiskey glasses. At least this was an establishment that did more than just give the glassware a cursory rinse in cold water, if that. Mr. Southworth, the genial owner, explained that his mother had been a demon for cleanliness.

"I always worry about her looking down and seeing that my establishment is not being run according to her standards," Southworth sighed. He was a chubby man with rosy cheeks and a big walrus-style blond mustache that matched the flowing mane of hair on his head.

Old Tom had clicked his tongue and agreed that pleasing one's mother was important, whether she was standing behind him with a hickory switch—"that's what my old ma did!"—or gazing down from on high. Southworth seems like a good man, maybe not connected with Hilary Reed except as proprietor of Reed's favorite watering hole.

Artie saw Jim enter through the front door of the Queen of Clubs, and gave him the same amount of attention the few other patrons did a stranger. At this early afternoon hour, the customers were older men who probably did not have much else to occupy their time. A heated checkers game had been going on in one corner for over an hour.

Jim paused, looked around then wandered to the bar, where the bartender moved to serve him. He saw Artemus down at the far end of the polished bar, bent over a dishpan, but managed not to smile. "Just a cold beer," he told the barkeep. Need to work out a way to make connections. I probably better let Artie make the first move. He knows what's going on around here.

He had consumed about half the glass when the shiny mirror behind the bar gave him a clear view of the group of men entering the saloon, a group that included Colonel James Richmond. Jim carefully avoided looking their way again for the moment. Now to see if the colonel acknowledges me. If not, I'd better not acknowledge him!

Artemus kept a close eye on the group that entered, also noticing that Jim turned his body at an angle so that he would not appear to be watching the room in the mirror. He saw Colonel Richmond react slightly. He recognizes Jim. Now to see what he does! For the moment, nothing. The five men sat down at the same table they had occupied the day before. Tom the bartender hurried out with the special bottle of whiskey that "Mr. Hilary" apparently kept here, along with glasses. One was filled for Richmond, but he ignored it. He's trying not to stare at Jim. That was evident to Artie.

Colonel James Richmond carefully, and he hoped casually, prevented his eyes from straying toward the young man standing at the bar, his back to the room. How the devil did Jim West show up here? Why? He couldn't possibly know where I am or anything about this… could he? Richmond knew that the agent was among the best and brightest, and that along with his partner, managed some nearly miraculous deeds over their tenure in the department. For that matter, is he here alone? Where's Gordon? Is it pure coincidence he's here? That can't be possible. I can't allow Hilary to know who West is. Not until Jim is ready. But what can he do…?

Artie noticed that Jim was nursing his beer. Killing time, probably waiting for me to give him a clue about where and when to meet. Not as easy as it had been connecting with Liam yesterday. He placed the last scrubbed tumbler on a towel spread on the bar for that purpose, picked up the pan and carried it out the back door, where he pitched the soapy water to the ground alongside the stoop there.

Returning, Artemus sidled up to the bartender. "Say, Mr. Tom, can you give me a couple bucks advance on my pay? I'm doggoned hungry."

"Eat some more of those boiled eggs and baked ham." The bartender nodded toward a spread he had just put at the end of the bar.

"Aw, Mr. Tom, I et so many of those eggs I'm about to start cluckin'! Thought I might go down to Emory's and get me a roast beef sandwich an' a cup o' coffee."

Tom stared at him. "You want coffee?"

Artemus shuffled his feet in chagrin. "Well, sometimes… ya know. They don't serve likker at Emory's."

"I doubt they'll let you sit at one of their tables."

"Well, I know that. But I can get it and go out back. There's a clump of trees back there behind the café, y'know? Makes a fine place for a fella to relax awhile."

Tom sighed and opened the cash register, pulling out a couple of coins. "Don't forget, this is coming off your Friday pay!"

"Thankee, Mr. Tom. You're a fine fella." He shuffled out the door as fast as his old legs could carry him, never glancing at either Jim West or the group at the table.

W*W*W*W*W

Jim found his partner without much trouble. Artie looked up as Jim strolled up. "This is one fine roast beef sandwich, Jim. You ought to try one."

Jim lowered himself to the grassy plot beside Artemus. "My new landlady says her food is superior to any served in town."

Artie's eyes widened. "That so? Can you convince her to serve an old drunk on her back porch?"

Jim chuckled. "I talked to O'Donnell. Things don't sound very promising at the moment."

Artie put his mug of coffee on the ground beside him. "That's putting it mildly. I can't tell you a blessed helpful thing. You saw the colonel. He was in the saloon yesterday too. Same situation."

"Yeah, but he also spotted me and didn't acknowledge it. Tells me that our guess that he's being coerced is a fact. The question is how and why."

"The how is probably what we talked about before, concerning Caroline and the kids. Whatever Reed threatened, the colonel is taking is seriously. But what he wants Richmond for… that currently is beyond my ken."

"Where are you sleeping?"

Artie made a face. "On a cot in a back room of the saloon. Mr. Southworth has been kind enough to let me use it. While you're sleeping on a featherbed!"

"Luck of the draw, Artemus. You're the expert in disguise, not me." Jim climbed to his feet. "I'd better get out of here before someone spots us."

"What are you going to be doing?"

"I don't know. I'm supposed to be relaxing so I guess I'll just hang around town at first. I have a notion my landlady can tell me quite a bit. Maybe I'll cultivate her friendship."

"Be great if Liam can get on out at Reed's place."

"Yeah. See you later."

W*W*W*W*W

When Jim returned to the boarding house, Mrs. Shea was in the "lobby," seated on a rocking chair with some crocheting, so Jim wandered into that room. "This seems like a pretty quiet town."

She glanced up. "It is, most of the time. T'was a day when I'd have said it's the loveliest town in Texas."

Jim casually sat down on a loveseat across from her. "Something happened to change your mind about that?"

"Everything changes sooner or later."

"I went across the street to the saloon."

"I saw you. They serve a good beer there. My husband, rest his soul, favored it. Mr. Southworth runs a fine place."

Jim smiled briefly. "I noticed a man who came in. Seems as though I should know him, but can't place him. Well dressed, gray eyes, silver hair…"

"Reed Hilary."

He shook his head slightly. "That name doesn't sound familiar. I must be wrong."

Now Mary Shea eyed him. "Mr. West, from what I've heard about you, if you think you recognize a man, chances are you did. What name did you know him by before?"

Jim made an instant decision. It looked as though they were going to need some help here in Wine Creek, especially where information was concerned. "I believe his name is actually Hilary Reed. He was involved in a lot of shady activities during the war… and was believed dead until recently."

"And you're here to arrest him?"

"Not necessarily. Not until I find out what's going on. I'm interested in another newcomer, a man who arrived here within the last week or so, and is apparently staying with Reed."

"That sad man?"

"You've seen him?"

"I was in the mercantile day before yesterday when he came in with Selda Roman and one of Hilary's men. She was hanging onto him like a leech, but he was paying her absolutely no mind."

"Selda Roman. Redhead?"

"Very. She owns the tavern down at the end of the street, the Blue Feather."

Jim frowned thoughtfully. "What's her connection with Reed?"

"Usual thing between a man and a woman. I always think it's odd that Mr. Hilary, or Mr. Reed as you call him, spends more time in the Queen of Clubs than he does in the Blue Feather… at least openly. I was a bit puzzled, I admit, when I saw her with that other man. I saw them together another time, when Mr. Hilary was present. Do you know this sad man?"

"Yes. He's my commanding officer in the department, and his wife is very concerned about him. We all are."

"I think you'd better tell me the entire story, Mr. West."

W*W*W*W*W

When Liam O'Donnell entered the Queen of Clubs the following afternoon, Artemus was greatly relieved, after the redheaded man had been absent for more than a day. He was even happier when the Pinkerton man whispered that he had been hired at the Reed ranch. He had been sent to town to pick up the ranch mail that would have come in on the morning's stage.

Artemus scrubbed the bar in front of the redheaded cowboy. "Have you seen the colonel?"

"Not close. And he's never alone for long. Even when he steps outside by himself, I'm pretty certain he's being watched. Either Reed or one of those other men who've been with them is nearby."

"So they're not coming to town today."

"Seems so. I'm going to try to get a couple of the hands to gossip. I'll see what I can find out… and get back as soon as I can." Liam drained his beer and wandered out.

Artemus sighed as he took his damp rag and shambled back to the storage room behind the bar, where he sat down on an upturned keg and pondered the situation. I think we had no idea how difficult this was going to be. We can't come right out and ask direct questions for fear of endangering the colonel's life, not to mention our own. But it might come to that. Either that or kidnapping Colonel Richmond away from Reed!

W*W*W*W*W

I must not say that she was true,

Yet let me say that she was fair;

And they, that lovely face who view,

They should not ask if truth be there.
— Euphrosyne, Matthew Arnold (1822-1888), English poet

Jim returned to the Blue Feather the following afternoon, seating himself at a table near the door, noting that the bartender was not present. He had visited that smaller saloon the previous evening after his long conversation with Mary Shea. Mary was certain that Selda Roman was Hilary Reed's mistress. She had no notion, however, of why Reed would want his brother-in-law at the ranch to the point of coercing his presence.

"There's nothing around here. No big government money. We have just the one bank and I doubt they ever have more than a couple of thousand dollars on hand at any one time."

Jim assured her that they were fairly certain a bank robbery was not at the root of the scheme. "But we have no idea what it could be. Why would Reed want the colonel here, rather than remaining in Washington in his official capacity? I'm afraid we may never learn that until we are able to talk to Colonel Richmond."

At the Blue Feather during the previous evening, he had seen Selda Roman and she had seen him. She did not, however, approach, despite the length of time her eyes were on him. He had attempted to invite her to join him with his own glance, but either she did not notice or it simply was not working!

This afternoon was a different story, however. Perhaps it was because the only other customer in the small tavern was a white-haired man who appeared to be nursing a whiskey, lost in his own thoughts and memories at a far corner table. Selda herself was at another table with two other women, whom Jim had seen last night. One of them, a blonde, had joined him briefly just before he excused himself for the night.

Selda Roman's hair was a rich chestnut, her eyes golden brown. Despite a certain hardness and world-weariness, she was a lovely woman, this afternoon attired in a rather simple blue dress trimmed in white piping. Last night her garb had been a spectacular gold satin.

"Hello," she greeted. "What can I get for you?"

"A good whiskey would be welcome," he replied with a smile.

She brought a bottle and two glasses, settling into the chair opposite. The brand on the bottle was one of Kentucky's finest, he noted. "I'm Selda," she said. "I own this little place."

"And a fine place it is. I'm Jim." He picked up the glass she poured the amber liquid into, held it briefly in a salute then sipped it. The liquor went down smoothly. "Good stuff."

Her smile was warm. "That's what you asked for, isn't it? What brings you to Wine Creek, Jim?"

"Just passing through. On my way to Mexico to keep an appointment, but I have time to spare, so I thought I'd rest here a day or two. Seems like a nice quiet town."

"Oh, it is. But you look to me like a man who enjoys excitement."

"There's a time and a place for everything. Who knows, tomorrow at this time I might be bored and go looking for something a little livelier."

"Which you might even find here," Selda responded, keeping her eyes on his face.

"I imagine I could, at that," he said, meeting her gaze over the rim of his glass. Either she knows my identity and is playing me along, or Hilary Reed doesn't have total claim on her.

"Are you a traveling man, Jim?"

"You might say that. I do get around."

She laughed, a nice throaty sound. "I imagine you do. But you've never been to this part of Texas before."

"No, I haven't. Decided to take a different route to see the scenery."

"Texas can sometimes be a bit dangerous for a Yankee."

He grinned. "It shows, huh?"

"I'm a Yankee myself. But I've been here long enough that folks have pretty much forgotten. I'm just another southern belle." She drawled out the last sentence, eyes sparkling. "Where are you from?"

"Pretty much everywhere." He saw a quick flash of anger, or something close to it, in her gold-brown eyes. She was fishing for information, and did not like his evasiveness. Chances were few men objected to being given close scrutiny by Selda Roman; most probably opened up easily. He decided to turn the tables. "How about you? What keeps a woman like you in a backwater Texas town? Other than owning this place, I mean. Husband? Boyfriend?"

"Maybe. What are you going to do in Mexico?" She could be evasive herself.

"Deliver some papers for my employer. Then head north again."

"Plan to pass through this way or look for other new scenery?"

"I kind of like the scenery around here."

Jim thought she was about the respond favorably to that comment, but an interruption occurred when a rough clad man pushed through the front door, saw her and strode over to the table. "Miss Selda, I have a message for you."

She got to her feet. "Nice talking to you, Jim."

Jim watched as she led the man behind the bar and through a doorway. Whatever the message was, it was not for public consumption. Jim stood up, tossed a coin on the table and left the saloon. We're getting nowhere too damned fast! Might have to take more drastic measures—like calling on the colonel at the ranch.

Back at the boarding house, he saddled his horse and led it down the alley toward the street. Mary Shea had given him the location of the Reed Hilary ranch, and he wanted to have a look at it. However, just as he reached the street, he heard a voice behind him.

"Hey, you."

Jim looked around at the bald, grizzled man who wore his gun low on his hip, a shiny star on the faded and sweat-stained shirt. "You looking for me?" He prevented himself from taking a step back when the sheriff came near and the unwashed odor permeated the air.

"Noticed you around town. We don't get many strangers. What are you doing here?"

"If it's any of your business," Jim replied mildly, "I'm just passing through. Stopped to rest a couple of days. I've been on the trail for a long while."

"I wouldn't rest too long. Where you off to now?"

Again Jim spoke quietly. "Just to see the countryside. Never been in this part of Texas before."

"Be careful out there. Some folks don't like strangers prowling around their property."

"I'm always careful, sheriff." Jim turned and swung into the saddle. He touched his hat brim with his fingertips then headed down the street, never looking back, though he could feel the sheriff's eyes boring into his shoulders. More and more, I have a feeling I'm not exactly unknown here. Wonder who, besides the colonel, knows me. He did not want to even consider the possibility that his superior was the one who identified him as a federal agent.

He deliberately rode in the opposite direction from where he knew the Reed ranch headquarters lay. Once outside of town, he circled widely, cutting across fields and in a couple of instances letting the stallion leap over fences. Fortunately he did not encounter anyone in those fields, although he saw cattle bearing the Box RH brand that was Reed Hilary's registered mark. The widespread nature of those branded cattle gave him a clue to just how large the ranch was. Twice he saw the rundown buildings of what had probably been the homes of previous owners, again demonstrating how much land Reed had acquired.

Finally he started noticing men out working in the fields, moving cattle, repairing fences, in one case plowing a field, probably where winter silage had been or would be grown. Jim was able to take advantage of scattered copses of trees and brush, as well as some low lying hills to stay out of sight of those men. They appeared to be regular cowboys, as opposed to hired guns, but they were in Reed's employ.

When the sprawling group of structures came into view, he immediately veered toward a nearby hilltop covered by a cluster of trees and brush. Gaining it without detection, he dismounted, taking a spyglass from his saddlebag. He then went forward, crawling under some bushes to lie on his stomach, elbows resting on the ground, to lift the glass to his eye.

At first he noticed nothing, merely a few men applying themselves to chores. One was currying a fine palomino in a corral, another carrying buckets of water toward a chicken coop where Jim could see a number of fowl inside a wire enclosure. He finally saw Liam O'Donnell emerge from what might have been the bunkhouse, in the company of two other men. During a short visit to the Queen of Clubs last night, Artie had been able to pass on the information about the Pinkerton's new job.

The three men were laughing heartily, then one man split off and walked toward a small cabin some fifty feet or so beyond and to the side of the bunkhouse. Jim had noticed a man there who had appeared to be idly whiling his time sitting on the front stoop of the cabin, with a closed door behind him. Now that sitting man rose, spoke to the one who approached, handed something over, then strolled off, while the second man took his place on the small porch.

Jim frowned. Guarding something? Many of the men Jim had seen wore side arms, as did these two. This pair, he realized, wore those guns differently than an ordinary cowhand might, one who was merely carrying a weapon as a defense against critters, like rattlesnakes or coyotes. Adjusting the telescope, he tried to study the face of the man now sitting on the stoop more closely then nodded to himself in satisfaction.

Marty Benedict. So this is where he disappeared. A notorious stagecoach robber and killer who had last been seen in northern Montana, something must have lured him to Texas. Money, no doubt.

He watched the area around the big white house for another twenty minutes, and spotted four more recognizable faces of men who either had warrants out for them or who were known to be paid guns. That confirmed a great deal of what he had heard so far. The big question was—why? Why did Hilary Reed want a growing army of men handy with guns and low on morals? Above all, why did he want his brother-in-law here?

Just as he was considering the wisdom of leaving, Jim noticed the man sitting on the porch of the small building get to his feet, and a moment later, another man, wearing a white cloth around his waist as an apron, appeared from the rear of the big house. He was carrying a tray laden with a bowl of something along with a cup and some utensils. The guard produced a key and opened the door behind him, allowed the tray bearing man to enter, while the guard stood in the open doorway, obviously wary. Moments later the one who had carried the tray in emerged, now toting another tray, this one with a plate and cup. Remnants from an earlier meal? He went toward the back of the house again, the guard closed and locked the door, and sat down again.

Realizing he was pushing his luck, Jim returned the spyglass to the saddle pouch, mounted and made his way back across the fields, having one close call when a group of men suddenly emerged around a knoll. He was near enough to a cluster of boulders to urge the black behind them. The men were too busy talking and laughing among themselves to have spotted him.

W*W*W*W*W

"Old Tom" was sweeping the porch of the saloon when the rider on the black horse returned to town. Artie sighed an inner sigh of relief. He had seen his partner ride out after a brief conversation with the slatternly sheriff, and then watched the sheriff ride out too, although in the opposite direction. Apparently Jim either didn't encounter Metcalf—or else he did and dispatched him with his usual ease. That seemed to be unlikely. Jim did not seem unduly concerned about appearing in town again.

"Hey mister! Hey mister!" Old Tom staggered off the porch, waving a hand while toting the broom in the other as he approached the man dismounting across the street.

Jim tied off the stallion on the hitch rack and turned. "What can I do for you, old timer?"

"Just wanna know, you ever race that horse? I expect I can set up a mighty fine purse if you do. I can do that, you know. I'm good at that!"

"Not as a rule," Jim replied aloud then softly, "What's up?"

"I need to talk to you," Artie whispered, then resumed his excited tone. "You oughta race that horse. You could make good money, you know."

"I have something to tell you, too. When and where?" Jim patted the flanks of his horse before speaking louder. "No, he's too good a horse to risk in a venture like that."

"I'm going to leave town. I'll be about a mile north in maybe two hours."

"Leave town?"

"Yeah. Time for 'Old Tom' to move on. I'll tell you later." Old Tom leaned on his broomstick. "That's too bad, fella. We could make money on that horse, I tell you. Well, too bad." He turned and toddled back across the street.

As Jim entered the boarding house, he found his landlady just inside the door. "That a confederate of yours?" Mrs. Shea asked, eyes knowing.

Jim pulled off his hat, raked his fingers through his hair. "Mary Shea, you are just too eagle-eyed. Yeah, that's my partner. He's good at disguises."

"I should hope so! Wouldn't want to think you were partnering up with a drunken old sot! I just made fresh coffee. Come into the kitchen."

Jim had learned that although school was out for the summer, the middle-aged man who boarded here spent a good deal of time at the schoolhouse outside of town, tutoring willing students and working on lesson plans. The other tenant spent most of her time in her room knitting or reading, coming down primarily for meals. So as he followed Mary to the kitchen, he knew they were virtually alone.

"You have something to tell me?" he asked as he sat down at the rough wooden worktable and she poured coffee into sturdy cups.

She placed one in front of him, sitting down opposite. "Not a lot. I was remembering something about when Hilary Reed first came to Wine Creek. He was a very angry man, still very bitter about the outcome of the war. He had some sympathizers, but a lot of people just wanted to put it behind them, build their lives again. I overheard him once ranting and raving about General Grant, and even chastising General Lee for surrendering."

Jim sipped the rich brew. "From what I understand, during the war itself Reed worked both sides. He stole goods from the north, even hijacked boats bearing supplies, and then sold them at exorbitant prices in the south, where they were needed. He dealt in illegal bales of cotton as well."

"Where were you this morning?"

Jim smiled briefly at the change in subject. This was the real reason she invited him for coffee. "I rode out to take a look at the ranch. Big place."

"I should say, and getting bigger. I hear he's planning to take over some more property soon. Did you see anything useful?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't see the colonel, and that worries me a bit, because I saw a building where apparently someone is kept prisoner."

Her eyes widened. "You think Reed Hilary keeps him locked up when he's not bringing him into town like he does all the time?"

"I don't know. Could be someone else locked in there… but who? To your knowledge, has anyone local gone missing?"

Mary shook her head. "Not that I've heard. Can't see why Hilary would lock someone up like that anyway. He's had his sheriff jail a few men over time, usually to put pressure on them with trumped-up charges. They were freed once they agreed to his terms to buy them out."

"I just have a feeling," Jim said slowly, "that the colonel is not the one being locked up. But I cannot imagine who it would be or why."

Two hours later, he said almost exactly the same thing to Artemus as they relaxed alongside a spring and under some cottonwood trees. "Why would he imprison Colonel Richmond and then bring him to town, apparently unguarded?"

Artie shook his head. "Yeah, doesn't make sense does it. Maybe Liam will know something about it. He hasn't mentioned it yet, though."

"You've talked to him?"

"Last night. He came in with a few men from the Box RH and it so happened we both needed to go out to the privy at the same time. He told me something really interesting. The boys out there have said that Reed is recruiting guns at a high rate, sending men out all over the place to bring in others, paying a bounty even."

Jim nodded. "I saw a few likely candidates at the ranch."

"As I told you, I'm thinking that Old Tom should wander on. Fellows like him don't stay in one place too long anyway. Maybe a good gun should ride in."

Jim frowned. "And hire on at the ranch?"

"Yep. Liam is there simply as a ranch hand. He says about twenty-five men that do the regular work. They don't know a lot about what's going on—just speculation. Seems they're paid extremely well to do their chores and keep their mouths shut."

Jim's scowl deepened "Artie, you'd be in more constant proximity to the colonel…"

"He won't betray me, even if he recognizes me. He didn't betray you, did he?" Artie gazed at his partner.

"I hope not, though I have a notion that the fine-looking sheriff knows who I am."

"Well, you're a famous man, James." Artie grinned, trying to lighten his partner's concern.

Jim smiled briefly. "Yeah. Artie, I spotted Marty Benedict, along with several others who might know you."

Artie shrugged. "James, you know I'm pretty good at being someone else. I can fool Loveless, so I can fool anyone. As I recall, I've even fooled you once or twice." He grinned.

Jim sighed, realizing the futility of his argument. "And what am I supposed to be doing while you and Liam do all the sleuthing at the ranch?"

"What you do best, James. Get under people's skin, make yourself annoying and too danged nosy."

"In other words, get myself shot or beat up." Jim cocked his head, green eyes glinting with amusement now.

"Well, maybe not quite that far. We'll need someone on the outside, Jim… just in case." Artemus knew that inactivity was not his partner's favorite pastime.

"I know." He went on to tell Artie what Mrs. Shea had told him about Reed's earlier political sentiments. "Seems he's simmered down since then. At least in public."

"A man like him would blame everyone else for his failures," Artie murmured. "Even Lee. Be interesting to know why Reed staged his own death. Did he feel things were getting too hot, or did he sense the end was near?"

"Maybe we'll be able to ask him one day. So what are your plans?"

"To go back to the train for a new disguise. With any luck, I'll be back tomorrow—and hire on with Reed."

"How are you going to keep in touch with me if you're both out on the ranch?"

Artie studied Jim for a moment, comprehending that his partner was trying to disguise his concern. "Jim, I can take care of myself."

Jim shook his head. "Artie, we spend too much time together!" He's always reading my thoughts!

Now Artemus laughed out loud. "That's the nature of the beast, James. You know me, I know you. That's why we work so well together. You call me the worrier and I think it's rubbing off on you! Look, we'll figure out a way to keep you informed. Maybe we can get the colonel in on it. He seems to come into town regularly."

"No. Not until we know what's going on."

Artie concurred, though reluctantly. They did not want to believe Colonel James Richmond was cooperating with his black sheep brother-in-law, and hoped that the evidence they were seeing—Richmond's dour behavior—meant he was not. However, until they knew for certain, they could not bring him into it.

"I managed to send a telegraph message to the train this morning, and one of the boys is going to have my horse waiting for me about two miles north of town this evening. At least I'll be able to ride back!" Sometimes his disguises caused logistical problems. "Old Tom" wouldn't own a horse like Mesa but traveled by Shank's mare. Artie climbed to his feet. "Don't forget, Liam's at the ranch too. So we'll be each other's backups. You just be ready if we need you."

"Sounds like I'm being replaced," Jim said sourly, rising.

"James, my boy, you are irreplaceable!"

W*W*W*W*W

Artie was surprised, even a bit disconcerted, with the ease by which he was hired at the Reed Hilary ranch. Nonetheless, he saw no indication that Reed was aware of his true identity. Nor did Colonel Richmond, who stood mutely at Reed's side on the porch, show any signs of recognition. I'm not sure the colonel is that good an actor!

Artie had introduced himself as Mitch Carver, from the Dakota Territory, wearing a very faded calico shirt, well-worn denim trousers, but an oiled gun belt and holster and shiny pistol, and Bowie knife in a sheath attached to the belt; he left the initialed pistol at the train and selected another from the collection. He also sported a sagging handlebar mustache and had fastened "scars" to his face. "Heard there was some good work and good money down in Texas and I was getting tired of the Dakotas anyway." Reed had asked for a demonstration of his skills, upon which Artie calmly shot the tips off the newel posts on either side of the gate of the fence that surrounded the house. Reed had quickly hired him on.

A bit of good luck occurred as Liam O'Donnell wandered near the house and Reed called to him to escort the newcomer to the bunkhouse and show him where to stow his horse and gear. Thus, the two of them had a few minutes alone in the bunkhouse to talk.

"Jim mentioned a small house where it appears someone is being kept locked up. Have you seen it? Is the colonel stuck in there?"

"I know which place he means," Liam nodded. "I asked one fellow about it, after noticing round-the-clock guards, and he said Mr. Hilary kept some valuables in there. But I've seen food taken in."

"That's what Jim said."

"I'm pretty sure it's not Colonel Richmond. I've seen him elsewhere when the food was delivered."

"Then who?" Artie frowned.

"I've tried a couple of times to be in a position to look in the door when it's opened, but whoever is inside is always well back from the door. There are a couple of windows, but they are too high and too small to get a good look inside without being very obvious. I just don't know, Artemus."

W*W*W*W*W

The stage was late. Jim glanced at the lowering afternoon sun as he saw the vehicle rumbling into town. He had noted a schedule posted on the outside wall of the mercantile stating that the coach passed through town twice a week, once in each direction. This one, from the north, was listed to arrive a little after noon, and the hour was closer to four. He paused to watch, out of curiosity. Had they been held up?

The owner of the mercantile came out to ask that same question. The driver shook his head as he tossed a couple of pieces of luggage from the top. "Had a breakdown, Zeke. Near the Ladonia station, as it happened. But we had to replace the axle. I'm going to change horses and move right on, try to make up some time."

Jim saw that the storeowner had stepped closer to the coach, apparently to assist someone out, a person who was hidden by the bulk of the stage for the moment. He started to turn away just as the driver started his team up again, then stopped short, stunned. Shaking himself into action, Jim strode across the street to grasp the arm of the woman who had just arrived.

"Caroline!" he hissed. "What are you doing here?"

The eyes she turned to him were filled with grief and fear. Jim did not give her a chance to respond, grabbing her two bags, slipping one under his free arm while taking the other in his hand. "I'll see to the lady," he told the storekeeper, and guided her firmly down the street toward the boardinghouse.

Jim was not surprised that Mary Shea opened the door for them. The landlady seemed to always know what was going on. He towed Caroline Richmond inside, dropping her bags before turning to her, and was stunned to see tears flowing down her face.

"Mrs. Richmond! I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, swallowing hard. "I'm so tired, Jim. And so worried! It's Bradley!"

"Bradley? What do you mean? What's happened?"

Mary took charge, putting a gentle hand on Caroline's arm. "Jim, let's go into the kitchen so I can pour the lady a cup of coffee. Or would you prefer tea, dear?" The landlady had adopted the use of his given name, and he had no objections; she seemed like an old friend already.

"Coffee is fine," Caroline replied, some of her gracious aplomb returning. "Thank you."

Jim followed the two women into the kitchen, his head bursting with questions. This unexpected development could be troublesome, even disastrous. But he held his tongue while Mary seated the other woman at the table and brought cups. Jim almost smiled as he saw Caroline Richmond at the rough table. Mary had no idea she was serving the daughter of one of South Carolina's most prominent families, a lady whose home on the outskirts of Washington was known for its grace and hospitality.

Caroline drank a couple of swallows of coffee, which seemed to brace her before she began her story. She had been changing trains in Saint Louis when she encountered a young man she knew well. "Richard is a classmate of Bradley's. He's been to our home. He was invited to go on the cruise but had to decline due to previous commitments. However, he was in New York and went to the docks to bid farewell to his friends." Bradley Richmond had not been among the gathering at the pier. The party had been starting to worry when a messenger arrived with a note for their host, a note that informed them of a change in plans. Bradley would not be able to join the cruise, as his mother had been taken seriously ill; thus, he was heading home.

"Richard, of course, was very surprised to see me, not only in Saint Louis, but also because he understood I was at death's door. He had not seen the actual note, only heard of its contents. He said he had planned to call in Washington on his return from a trip to visit relatives and attend a wedding in Denver."

Jim sat with his hands wrapped around his cup, scarcely noticing the heat. "So Bradley is not safely on the yacht."

Tears welled in Caroline's gray eyes again, and once more she swallowed hard. "Jim, I'm so afraid! I didn't know how to get in touch with you except to come here. The stagecoach was faster than the train in this instance, or should have been…" She suddenly seemed to become aware of Mary Shea, sitting quietly with deep concern on her face.

"It's all right, Mrs. Richmond. This is Mrs. Mary Shea, who owns this establishment. She knows pretty much everything and has been a great help. Mrs. Shea, this is the wife of my superior, Colonel Richmond."

Mary reached over to pat Caroline's hand. "And I'll continue to help in any way I can."

"Thank you. Jim, I have to see James…"

He shook his head firmly. "No, that's not possible. We still don't know what's going on. The colonel is in good health though. We have seen him. Artemus and Liam are out at the ranch now, hired on."

"But I must tell him about Bradley! He…" Her words broke off as she gazed at Jim. "You know something."

He shook his head, realizing he must have allowed his concerns to appear in his eyes. "No, not really. Mrs. Richmond, is it at all possible that Bradley engineered this himself? That he wanted to go somewhere else? To see a young lady, perhaps?"

"Oh, no, Jim. There is a young lady he has been noticing, but she's the sister of the classmate with whom he was going to sail! He was truly looking forward to the opportunity to spend time with her! Something has happened, something terrible. I'm wondering if Hilary…"

Jim put on a show of calmness, drinking his coffee. "That doesn't seem likely, does it? New York is a long ways from Texas." The prisoner in the small house… "Look, there's a telegraph office here in town. I'll go send a couple of messages, in code of course, and see if we can get to the bottom of this." They had already arranged for a policeman friend in Vermont to keep an eye on the Richmonds' two daughters.

He could see, however, that Caroline Richmond was not convinced. She was also near exhaustion. Mary Shea saw it too, and suggested the lady might want to go upstairs and lay down awhile. Jim had one more thing to say to his superior's wife. "Mrs. Richmond, it's very important that neither your husband nor your brother know you are here. You will have to stay inside Mrs. Shea's home." He was glad to remember that he had, in his astonishment, inadvertently addressed her by her given name at the coach. For once a faux pas had been the right thing to do.

Jim was pacing the floor in the lobby when Mary Shea returned to report that Mrs. Richmond was lying down. "I don't guarantee how long she's going to stay there, Jim. She's very agitated about her son… and her husband. And who can blame her? You know something you're not saying, don't you?"

Pausing in his strides, Jim sighed. "I'm afraid Bradley may be a prisoner on the ranch. We've seen signs someone is being held there other than the colonel. Chances are very good that the safety of his son is being held over Colonel Richmond's head—for whatever Reed is attempting to gain from him."

"We mustn't allow her to know that!"

"Exactly. Caroline Richmond is a very courageous woman, but sometimes headstrong, as you no doubt realize from what I've told you so far, as well as what you just witnessed. She would go out there to confront her brother—and give Reed another axe to wield over the colonel."

"Now what are you going to do?"

"I've got to get word to Artemus and Liam somehow. I'm hoping one or the other shows up in the Queen of Clubs tonight. I'm also going to go have a conversation with Selda Roman."

"Is that wise?"

"Probably not. But I'm sure that anything I tell her goes straight to Reed's ears. I'm thinking that it's time to stir the pot."

W*W*W*W*W

Artemus was leaning against the corral fence in the warm twilight evening, smoking a cigar, when he saw Colonel Richmond emerge from the front door of the big house. He appeared to be alone, though Artie saw him glance back toward the door, as though someone might be there. After a moment, Richmond stepped off the porch and slowly walked around to the side of the house, staying within the white fence that enclosed the grounds. Artemus then saw a curtain move at a window. So he is being watched, and I'm sure the colonel is aware of it.

Richmond went out to the low fence, stood there and peered toward the back of the structure. After a moment Artie realized that he was looking at the small house where a man was constantly on guard. What the devil…? The colonel knows who is imprisoned there! Who could it be? Artie thought hard. He had no recollection of hearing that an agent or anyone else connected with the Secret Service, or any government agency, was missing—other than the colonel himself.

It can't be a member of his family… can it? Richmond's two young daughters were in New England, under the watchful eye of a very good policeman; his son was sailing the Caribbean, presumably out of reach. Artie knew that Richmond had a brother somewhere, but that they were not close, the brother being some fifteen years younger and the son of their father's second wife. Would Hilary Reed have even known about that brother?

The prisoner was certainly not Caroline Richmond. According to what Liam learned the captive had been in the cottage since shortly before the colonel arrived at the ranch. Caroline had been in New Orleans days after that.

I wish I could figure out a way to get a look at the prisoner. That did not seem possible, day or night, from what he had heard. The guard was always posted there, and seemingly in short shifts, so that no one got tired and dozed off, day or night. The building had just the one door and the two small high windows.

After a few minutes Richmond turned and walked back toward the front porch, head down, shoulders slumped. It pained Artemus Gordon to see his colonel in such a state. Whatever is causing it, whatever is keeping him here under the thumb of Hilary Reed, has to be powerful. Whoever is in that cottage prison is important, to James Richmond at least. Somehow we have to find out who it is, and if possible, free him—or her.

W*W*W*W*W

Mary Shea told Jim that when she checked a while later, she found Caroline Richmond had fallen asleep. "That's the best thing for her at this time. I suspect she has not slept for a long while. I'll keep an eye on her, Jim. I'm sure that when she wakes, rested, she will understand the reasonableness of your instructions. If her brother got her in his power, I'm afraid it would be the end of the poor colonel."

Jim concurred. With both his wife and son under threat, James Richmond would have no choice. If only they could find out what Hilary Reed wanted! With any luck Artemus will ferret some of that out. But how long is it going to take? How much time do we have? One other factor to consider was that eventually Richmond's absence was going to be noted in Washington and elsewhere—if indeed that had not already occurred.

Other Secret Service agents could find out where Richmond had been last seen, just as easily as the Pinkerton man had, and follow his trail. Not to mention they would not have much of a problem learning the route the Wanderer had taken, if a connection was made between Richmond's disappearance and the absence of the two agents. To have other agents show up here unannounced, and unaware, could stir up the whole business and create danger for the colonel and his son, possibly for his wife.

They had been wrong to assume that Bradley Richmond was safe. That was easy to see in retrospect. Whether or not they could have stopped the kidnapping, they should have been aware and sent someone to check on Bradley. Yes, once he was on the open seas, chances were good he would have been out of reach. They should have immediately ascertained that he had sailed with his friends. Jim knew dwelling on past mistakes was useless in a case like this. They were better served to concentrate on the present and the future. Nonetheless, knowing they had erred was frustrating.

He spent sometime in the Queen of Clubs that evening, but no one from the Box RH appeared, not Artie nor Liam, nor any other hands that he recognized from previous encounters. The sheriff came in several times and Jim was certain the lawman was checking on his whereabouts. They know my identity, though they may not know why I'm here, only suspect and, I hope, worry.

Leaving the Queen of Clubs, he rode his black horse down to the Blue Feather. Selda Roman was not present when he first entered, so he bought a glass of whiskey and took it to a vacant corner table where he had a view not only of the front door but also of the staircase that led from the upper story. Shortly after he seated himself, he saw the bartender speak to the skinny man who apparently was the swamper; that man turned and hurried up the stairs. He returned within a few minutes and took up his job of gathering used glasses and picking up cigar and cigarette butts, carefully not looking at the corner table.

Not more than five minutes elapsed before Selda Roman descended the stairs. She casually paused part of the way down and let her gaze sweep over the clientele. A couple of men called out greetings and she waved or nodded back. Just as indifferently, her eyes took in Jim, and moved on. Jim waited as she made her way among the other tables, conversing with her customers, laughing, staying longer with this group than with that. Eventually she seemed to make up her mind, turned and walked directly to the corner table.

"Hello, Jim. I kind of thought you had moved on by now."

Jim smiled, his eyes taking in the provocatively low cut of the green gown she was wearing tonight. "I told you I liked the scenery around here."

Her return smile seemed genuine, and her eyes fell on his half-empty glass. "Let me get you a refill and something for myself. Be right back."

Jim kept his eyes on her and on the bartender as two glasses of whiskey were poured, apparently from the special bottle that she had served him from the previous visit. He did not see anything that resembled a sleight of hand movement to indicate one glass was being doctored. Still, as she sat down opposite him and put one glass before him, he picked up his previous tumbler.

She cocked her head. "What I just brought is a lot better than that."

"I don't believe in waste," he said with a smile, sipping the liquor so it would last longer. They were waiting for me. The bartender sent word to her that I came in. Has to be a reason for that.

"How long are you going to stay in Wine Creek, Jim?"

"Haven't decided yet. As I told you before, I have some leeway before I have to deliver the papers. Might as well stretch that to the limit."

"Um." Selda gazed at him over the rim of her glass as she took a drink. "I'm surprised you haven't been accosted by some of our former Rebs."

"I haven't had any problems," Jim replied easily. "Then again, I haven't been doing much talking or socializing, except here." Two tables over, four men kept looking in his direction and talking among themselves. Selda had spoken to them just before she approached him. "As far as most folks know, I'm just another good old Secesh boy."

She leaned forward slightly. "No, you must have that Yankee look about you, Jim."

"Oh? And what's a 'Yankee look'?"

"I'm not sure. But I heard a few boys talking this afternoon about the Yankee that was staying at Mary Shea's. I presume that was you."

"She has good food and fine beds. And appears to be the only place in town a traveling man can find such."

The four men rose from their table, threw money down to pay for their drinks and strolled toward the door, never looking his direction.

"Maybe I should invite you to… dinner," Selda spoke softly, her eyes on his face.

"I imagine you are a fine… cook."

She reached across the table, removed the half-empty glass from his fingers where they had been resting on the tabletop, and put the newer glass in its place. "Let's drink to fine meals."

Never taking his eyes from hers, Jim lifted the glass to his lips and pretended to take a swallow, barely allowing the liquid to wet his lips. He felt a slight tingling on his mouth, a tingle that had not accompanied this same brand of whiskey when he tasted it previously. Selda's eyes watched him closely.

The angry and frightened whinny of a horse followed by a man's shouted curse split the air, overcoming the hum of conversation and laughter in the saloon. Jim got to his feet immediately. "Someone is calling me."

"Jim, wait!"

Ignoring Selda's call, Jim strode to the door and out onto the porch of the building. The four men who had just left had untied the black stallion from the hitching rack and were now attempting to either lead it off or even mount it. Blackjack was having none of it, rising on his hind legs, front hoofs lashing at the quartet. One man, a big fellow with a black mustache, had ripped off his belt and was wrapping one end around his fist.

"Hey!"

They all turned toward him, and in the light from the saloon's windows, Jim saw the surprise they evinced. He had not been expected.

"Gentleman, that happens to be my horse." Jim stepped out onto the dusty street, allowing his right hand to hang loosely near the butt of his holstered gun.

The man with the belt turned to face him. "Well, seems he pulled loose from the railing."

"Did he? In that case I thank you, but he generally sticks around. Just like a good dog." Jim whistled sharply, the black threw his head in the air with a snort, and pushed his way through the quartet of men, who were now in a line across the road.

Jim caught the reins in his left hand. "Good boy."

"You wanna sell that horse?" the man on the opposite end from black-mustache asked, casually drifting to the side.

"No, but thanks for asking." Jim kept his voice mild, his body alert. They had expected him to remain in the saloon with Selda, perhaps drugged, but they were also ready to handle him. Were they ready to kill him?

"Why don't we go back inside, have a couple of drinks, and talk about it," black-mustache said, as his companions continued to spread out. Obviously they planned to be on all sides.

"No, thanks, I have a previous appointment."

With his left hand, he grabbed the pommel of the saddle and swung himself aboard, keeping hold of the reins, and never moving his right from the vicinity of his gun. Surprised by the sudden maneuver, the four men froze for an instant, then all started toward him. They stopped short again when the silver pistol seemed to magically appear in his hand.

"Gentlemen," Jim spoke with deadly softness, backing the horse up so that all four were in his vision. "I already thanked you for preventing my horse from straying, and I thanked you for the offer to purchase him. I appreciate your offer of hospitality as well. I think that just about concludes things here. Have you anything further to add?"

The slight gesture with the gun barrel informed them what he expected, and the four moved slowly toward the porch of the saloon. Jim turned the horse, and saw that Selda Roman was silhouetted in the illuminated doorway. "Good night!" he called.

Instead of riding down the street, which would have presented his back to them for a long distance, he wheeled the black and headed down the alley of the buildings across the street, immediately going into deeper blackness, and then turning to pass by the rear of those buildings as he made his way toward the center of town and the boarding house.

He puzzled over the incident while he unsaddled the black in Mrs. Shea's stable. They were waiting for me. The bartender had instructions to inform Selda when I came in. Maybe the surprise there is that he did not attempt to drug my first drink. Somehow Selda put something in the one she brought, probably something powerful and fast acting. Those men who went outside were going to take my horse… and then what?

He was frowning as he entered through the rear door into the kitchen, but was not surprised to find Mary Shea waiting for him. She was in her robe and slippers, at the table with a cup of tea. "What happened?" she asked.

With a smile, Jim went to the stove and filled a cup of coffee from the pot there before sitting down with her. "How's Mrs. Richmond?"

"Pretty well, all things considered. She came downstairs a while and ate something I fixed for her. She told me quite a bit about herself and her family. I think she needed to talk."

"I wouldn't be surprised. She's a fine woman. The colonel is devoted to her. That's why we were fairly certain initially that Hilary Reed was threatening her and their children to coerce the colonel to do his bidding."

"His own sister," Mary murmured.

"I never met Hilary Reed," Jim commented. "He was long gone—dead—by the time I met Mrs. Richmond after the war. But I've met another brother and a younger sister. They are a great deal like her. The brother runs the family estate in South Carolina. Of course, nothing is the same as it was before the war. But it seems as though Hilary was different from the outset, even as a boy. Caroline commented when she first came to us with the problem that she had mourned the little boy her brother had been, but not the man he had become. But according to Colonel Richmond, Hilary was quite a wild one even as a lad, always bucking authority and chafing at restrictions."

Mary was nodding. "I've known families like that. My own younger sister was something of a rebel, although she eventually married and became a fine wife and mother. Some… never grow up, I suppose one would say."

"I don't know what it is," Jim responded. "All I know is that Hilary faked his own death, and now has some scheme in mind whereby he needs his brother-in-law's assistance. It can't be anything good. And we've got to not only rescue the colonel—and now his son—but stop Hilary Reed."

"What happened tonight?"

Jim hesitated a moment, then told her of the curious incident at the Blue Swan. "I really don't know what they hoped to do."

"Well, capture you, obviously, Jim. Perhaps as another axe to hold over the colonel's head."

"Perhaps. Either that, or Reed is worried about government intervention. Thankfully, he does not know about Artemus and Liam."

Mary got to her feet, carrying her nearly empty cup to the sink, before she looked back, face grave. "Jim, you must be careful. Tonight is probably only the first attempt. If they can't capture you, they may try to kill you."

"I expect so." He stood up as well, a frown on his face. "I wish there was a way to get Caroline out of here before she's discovered."

"Well, as you know, no stage comes through for three more days, in either direction. I'm not sure of the train schedule. They usually have to be flagged down if we have a passenger or goods to put on board."

"I would not want to chance either trusting someone to help, or putting someone else in jeopardy, by asking for assistance. The thing to do is to settle this matter. Mary, do your best to keep Caroline in the house. I know it won't be easy."

Mary smiled grimly. "Indeed. She already talked about going to see her brother. She's frantic, Jim."

"I know. I think it's not a state she's accustomed to. Caroline has long been the rock in that family. The colonel depends on her to be the one to stay the course, so to speak. We've got to convince her that that is what she has to do. Rocking the boat won't help matters."

W*W*W*W*W

"Well, things is comin' together, boys! Won't be long now!"

The men in various stages of undress in the bunkhouse paused in their movements to turn to the man who had just entered. Artemus saw the big grin on Roy Bender's face. Bender was one of the men who had always accompanied Reed—and the colonel—into town, and Artie had learned that he was one of Reed's lieutenants. The other man, named Collier, had apparently higher status and lived in the house, possibly as a close guard on Richmond.

"What do you mean, Roy?" another man asked. "You get the word from Hilary. We goin' to move soon?"

"Won't be long now," Bender repeated, sitting down on the bunk closest to the front door and starting to pull of his boots. "Mr. Hilary says that he's got thirty more men coming up from Mexico. That'll give him close to a hundred all told, countin' what's here and what's over near Austin. He figures that and surprise is gonna be enough."

"Well, I don't know about you boys," Artie drawled, "but it sure will be nice to know just what we're expected to do!" He knew from his conversations with the other men that they were also unsure of their ultimate purpose. Like him, all they had been told was that they would be paid well to use their prowess with their weapons, and follow orders.

"Well, I can't tell you all that yet," Bender smirked, "but I can tell you that it's something big. And if it all goes as planned—and there ain't no reason it won't, on account of Mr. Hilary is damn smart and he's got it all figured out, 'specially with that colonel from Washington helpin' him—if it all goes as planned, we're all going to be big shots. I always wanted to be a general."

"Hell, Bender," another man snorted, "you never even made it to private!"

The comment elicited a scowl from Bender, but didn't stop the snickers. Artie had learned that Roy Bender was not a very popular man. He bragged too much and abused his power. The fact that he was relegated to the bunkhouse had not stopped him from giving orders and pushing other men around. He expected others to take care of his horse and clean his weapons, not to mention bowing and scraping to him. But everyone was aware that Bender had deserted from the Confederate Army immediately after being conscripted, and had never faced battle, something most of the others here had done.

However, Artemus wanted information, so he put a bit of awe in his tone. "A general? Is that so? You think the rest of us will get to be officers too?"

"Why, sure! That's why you're here. You're going to lead the armies that are going to be followin' us. We're going to take the South back!"

Casually Artie glanced around the lamp-lit room. The regular cowboys were mostly in the rear. They were listening in silence, knowing they were not part of this, but obviously interested. Liam was sitting on a top bunk, and Artie caught his eye for just an instant. He saw in that moment that Liam was experiencing the same cold sensation. Another war? Is that what this is about? But how? With a hundred men? How? One of us has to get to town to inform Jim!

"Is it going to happen soon, you think?" still another wanted to know. "I'm sure itchy for some action."

"Not long now," Bender confirmed. "Can't say for sure when, but the boss is waiting for word. Got to be the right moment. He's plannin' good, you can bet on that. Now let's get some sleep, boys. Gonna come a time when sleep might be in short supply." He hung up his trousers on a peg near his bed and slid under the coverings. "By the way, boys, the boss wasn't happy with some things that happened tonight—ain't that right, Blackie?—and he says that no one goes to town now less'n he gives straight orders. There's a federal man nosing around. That fellow has to be took care of first."

Artemus lay awake in the darkness for a long while, hearing the heavy breathing and snoring from his companions, but paying it little mind. He had seen the man with the heavy black mustache, known as Blackie, and three other men return earlier and go directly to the house. Ten minutes later they had come to the bunkhouse, sullen expressions on their faces. Something they had done or not done had displeased Hilary Reed, apparently.

Can only surmise it had to do with Jim. Did they try to kill him? Jim is certainly on the alert. But sending four men after him… This was the first certain indication that Reed knew Jim's identity. Jim could certainly handle four men, given the right circumstances, and apparently he did.

Somehow they had to get word to Jim concerning these latest developments but the ban on going to town was going to put a crimp in things. Maybe I can think of an excuse… But what? Liam had not been sent for the mail since that first day.

The following morning he did manage to have a few words with Liam, who was equally concerned but did not have any ideas, other than simply riding away. "But then whoever did that might not be able to come back."

"Not unless we can come up with a damn good excuse for riding away," Artie sighed, leaning against the fence as he polished his pistol.

Liam continued to work on the harness he had been repairing as it was slung over the corral fence. "Sure wish we could find out who's in the cabin back there. Artemus, do you think Reed could really start a new war?" O'Donnell, like the two agents, was a veteran of the conflict.

"I don't know. We need to find out more about the plans. The colonel probably knows… but we can't talk directly to him. Not yet."

W*W*W*W*W

"Jim, what are we going to do?"

Jim smiled, but his tone was firm. "Mrs. Richmond, you are going to just remain here with Mary, staying out of sight, and wait. I'm going to continue to find out what's going on with the colonel and your brother."

"And Bradley?"

"And Bradley—if indeed he's involved. You know, there's a good chance he decided he didn't want to go on the cruise after all and wrote the note as an excuse." He did not dare tell her he believed her son was already a captive on the ranch. He knew nothing would hold her back if she had that information.

Caroline obviously was not buying the scenario, but all she did was shake her head. They were sitting in the parlor of Mary Shea's home after enjoying a fine breakfast at Mrs. Shea's table. Jim had to admit that Mrs. Richmond looked a great deal better this morning. He suspected that pure exhaustion had caused her to sleep last night despite her worries.

"I've learned that like myself," Mrs. Shea said, "Caroline loves to crochet. We are going to teach each other some new stitches. That should keep us occupied."

Jim got to his feet. "I'd better see what I can find out."

"Jim," Caroline said anxiously, "you will be careful!"

"Don't worry about me, Mrs. Richmond. You just relax here with Mary. Artie, Liam, and I will do what we can to resolve this matter and bring it to a safe conclusion." If only I knew what the "matter" was. Somehow I have to learn Reed's plans. Perhaps Artie or Liam has some news—if we can find a way to get together!

He saddled the black horse and rode out toward the Box RH, once again on the alert for any riders in his vicinity. The sheriff was not out on the street, but Jim took a circuitous route anyway. As before, he gained the vantage spot on the hill overlooking the buildings without incident, easily avoiding any riders he saw. He did take the time to inspect any riders he spotted to ascertain that none were either Artie or Liam.

Once on the overlook, he used the spyglass to survey the ranch buildings, not spotting either his partner or the Pinkerton man, although he saw Artie's chestnut in the corral. The pinto was not immediately visible. Quite possibly Liam had been sent out to a different portion of the ranch than what he had just traversed. Artie could be inside one of the buildings. Jim wished he would see one of them, to be certain they were safe.

No sighting of the colonel this time, or of Hilary Reed. He did spot movement within the windows of the big two-story house, but could not identify the figures he saw. Again, he witnessed the changing of the guards at the little cabin, but the door was not opened, thus not allowing him even a remote opportunity to confirm the identity of the prisoner. Has to be Bradley Richmond. Reed somehow learned of the Richmond family's summer plans and arranged to kidnap Bradley so as to use his presence to coerce the colonel to cooperate. Cooperate in what?

A snort from his black horse gave him the first clue that anyone was around. Rolling over, Jim dropped the telescope and pulled his pistol, coming to his knees. Too late. Some fifty or sixty feet below, in a ring that was now spreading around the base of the entire hill, was Sheriff Jess Metcalf and a dozen or so men, all with weapons in their hands.

Jim slowly got to his feet, allowing his gun to dangle loose in his fingers, but not dropping it yet. He watched the men slowly advance toward him. Metcalf was grinning broadly. Blackjack laid his ears back, but did not move, waiting a signal from his master. Jim knew that these men would shoot the horse without compunction. He also knew how they sneaked up on the stallion and his master. The breeze was fairly strong, and they had remained downwind initially, so that the horse was not alerted.

"Whatcha doin', West?" the sheriff gloated. "Havin' a picnic?"

"Watching the birds," Jim replied mildly. Twelve to one was not good odds. He knew it would be better to live to fight another day, so he remained still.

"Birds get caged around these parts. And that's what's gonna happen to you. Drop that gun. Boss said to bring you in alive if we could, but he didn't give no strict orders."

The pistol thudded in the soft earth, and immediately one of the nearer men stepped forward to snatch it up, jamming it in his waistband. Another man came around behind Jim, jerking his hands behind him and tying them with a strip of rawhide. They then hoisted him into his saddle, demanding that he calm the fractious steed, which Jim did with a few quiet words.

They led the horse down to the house, where Hilary Reed emerged, smiling broadly, followed by a grim-faced James Richmond, who stood just behind his brother-in-law, eyes steely and simmering with anger.

"Well, Mr. West. At last we have the pleasure of meeting face-to-face."

Pulled off the horse, Jim was then prodded in through the gate toward the porch. "I didn't know you were interested, Mr. Reed. I would have made a point to call sooner."

"Oh, I've been interested. Since long before you showed up in Wine Creek. I expected to use James's influence to woo you to my cause."

"And I told you," the colonel spoke icily, "that it would be useless to try."

Reed barely glanced at him, still smiling. "I don't know, James. Nothing is impossible. After all, I have you at my side. I'm sure I could find something—or someone—near and dear to Mr. West who could persuade him. Come in, Mr. West. Come in."

Jim was somewhat surprised when he was taken through the house to a small windowless room, tied to a chair, the sole piece of furniture, then left in the darkness. Reed had the ropes on his wrists removed long enough to remove the agent's jacket, thus taking away most of the tools and weapons, as well as the derringer harnessed to his arm. At this point, the knife in his boot was useless.

He had thought that Reed would want to talk to him, if only to gloat, and perhaps reveal some of his plans. Jim had not missed the anguish in his colonel's eyes as he watched the agent being secured. Chances are he was counting on us. Artie's still out there with Liam. I hope.

W*W*W*W*W

Ardua cervix, Argumtumque caput, brevis alvos, obessaque terga,

Luxuriatque toris animosum pectus.

[His neck is high and erect, his head replete with intelligence, his belly short,

his back full, and his proud chest swells with hard muscles.]
— Georgics (III, 79), Virgil (Publius Virgilius Maro Vergil; 70-10 BC), Roman epic poet

"Artemus," Liam spoke in a low voice. He had put the two buckets on the ground, pretending the need to scratch his neck, and now bent over to pick them up again. "Take a look at the corral." Hoisting the buckets, he continued on his way toward the chicken coop.

Though curious, Artie remained seated for several minutes, hacking away at a stick of wood with the Bowie knife he carried in his guise as Mitch Carver. When the piece became too small to easily cut, he tossed it aside, got to his feet, placed the knife in its sheath, and idly strolled past the barn.

Unsure what he was going to see, Artie steeled himself. Nevertheless, the sight of the great black stallion caused a knot in his stomach. Not wishing to call attention to himself, he veered away from the fence before the horse had a chance to notice him. Chances were good that Blackjack would come trotting over to meet a well-known friend. Chances were also excellent that the horse had given the men who unsaddled it a tussle, so they would be interested to know why he could "charm" such a beast so easily.

All right. Why is Blackjack in the corral and where is Jim? Artemus looked around idly, taking in the house, as well as the small cabin. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Jim must be inside the house. It's unlikely that he would have unsaddled and put the horse in the corral. That would mean he planned a lengthy stay, and I don't think that would be in his plans, not willingly anyway. So… what's going on? That Jim could have been ambushed—killed—was cast out of his thoughts immediately. Had that occurred, he was sure he would have heard about it, one way or another.

A number of men were idling around the area, primarily the men hired for their guns and who had been ordered to stay at the ranch, like himself. The regular hands were doing their chores. Some of the hired guns were still inside the bunkhouse, Artie knew, having gotten their own poker games going. They would prefer to be at the Queen of Clubs or another saloon in town, but this was the next best way to pass the time.

He had just decided to stroll out toward the chicken coop in the hopes of a few words with Liam when he noticed a buggy approaching the house. Pausing to light a cheroot, Artie surreptitiously watched as a striking redheaded woman stepped out of the buggy and confidently strolled to the house. He could not see the front door from his angle, but the fact that she did not soon return to the vehicle meant she had entered.

This must be the redhead Mrs. Richmond spotted with her husband on the ill-advised trip to Wine Creek. What did Jim say her name was? Selda Roman, that's it. Obviously she's in on the game.

Continuing on toward the rear of the buildings, he waved to the man sitting on the porch of the cabin, and on an impulse, paused. "Sure must be the easiest job in camp, Joel."

The man grimaced. "Deadest too! I ain't got no idea why the boss wants someone here all the time."

"Must be some dangerous fellow in there, huh?" Artie moved closer.

"Hell, no! Just some kid. Scared kid at that. He ain't a-goin' nowhere! But what the hell, we get paid extra for it."

"That right? Hey, maybe I should tell the boss I'm willing to pull a shift."

Joel shrugged. "I know there's a couple of guys who'd like to quit—includin' me. I didn't sign on to play grandma to some kid."

Artie longed to ask the name of the "kid," but decided he would be pushing his luck. Chances were that Joel did not know anyway, or he would have mentioned it, rather than refer to the prisoner as "some kid." What kid? Artemus did not like the thoughts that came to mind.

Liam was waiting for him, and had positioned himself at the far side of the small building that sheltered the poultry, pretending to be fixing some wire there. Artie strolled by, toward some trees that clustered beyond then ambled back, as though just noticing the red-haired man. He pointed to the fence and spoke rather loudly.

"You ain't doin' much of a job on that." In a lower voice, "That's Jim's horse. Did you see Jim?"

"I'm doin' the best I can!" Liam snapped back then kept his head down over his task. "No. But I figured that was his stallion. What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think. He has to be in the house, and I doubt if it's voluntary. I also just found out that the prisoner in the cabin is a kid."

Liam obviously controlled his reaction with some effort, barely glancing at Artie. "A kid? Who?"

"Bradley Richmond, I'm thinking."

Liam stood up, flexed his back. "The colonel's son? Mrs. Richmond said he was sailing…"

"I know. But it would be a damn good reason for the colonel to accede to whatever demands Reed made on him, why he's still here. We can't do anything right now. Too many men around. Maybe tonight." Noticing a couple of men wandering in their direction, Artemus laughed loudly. "Well, hell, I did a better job when I was still wearing skirts at my grandpappy's farm!" Continuing to laugh, he threw his half-smoked cigar onto the ground and strolled away.

W*W*W*W*W

Jim West was dozing, slumped against the binding ropes, when he was roused by the sound of someone outside the door of his pitch-black prison. He had no idea how much time had elapsed since he had been imprisoned here; he only knew an eternity seemed to pass by. No one had entered, not to talk nor to bring him food or water, or even to simply check on him. He had heard sounds in the house beyond the closed door, voices, footsteps, but as far as he could determine, no one even came near the door.

Now he tensed as he saw a faint light under the door, and then the door itself opened slowly, cautiously, the dim illumination spreading. Despite its dimness, he still blinked after having been in complete darkness for hours. He could see the silhouette of a tall man, and darkness beyond. Then the man quietly stepped inside and closed the door.

"Colonel!" Jim was surprised not only by the appearance of his commanding officer, but also by the hoarseness of his own voice. His mouth and throat were very dry.

"I'm sorry I didn't bring any water, Jim," Richmond said quietly. "I couldn't chance going to the kitchen. What are you doing here?" The colonel was in shirtsleeves with bedroom slippers on his feet; obviously he had dressed hastily, and Jim realized the time was actually in the middle of the night. He was carrying a small oil lamp, the wick turned low.

Jim managed to work up a little saliva to moisturize his throat and mouth. "Reed invited me in."

The colonel's smile was grim. "You know what I mean, Jim."

"Mrs. Richmond asked for help. Untie me, colonel."

He shook his head. "I can't, Jim. Caroline… my wife went to you?"

"Yes. She showed us the note you left behind and requested assistance. At first she was certain you left her for another woman."

"My God, no! I would never do that!"

"I think she realizes that now." Jim was not about to add to the colonel's burdens by telling him his wife was just a few miles away. "Sir, what's going on? Why does Hilary Reed want you here?"

Richmond looked at the lamp he held for a long moment before lifting his gaze. "He wants my help in overthrowing the Texas state government, after which he'll pull Texas out of the union again. He expects other states to follow suit."

"That would cause another war! Colonel…!"

"I know, Jim, I know. But…"

"Yes. Your family is at stake. I know about Bradley."

"How…?"

"Just some deductions. Colonel, how does Reed expect to accomplish this coup?"

Richmond sighed. "I am acquainted with the governor. I'm to escort Reed and a couple of his men into the executive office. They… will kill the governor and anyone else in the area. Then his men will raid the legislature and assassinate the state senators and representatives. He figures that will throw the state into chaos and he'll be able to take over the entire government with less than a hundred men. He's sure other men will stampede to join him, both Texans and other southerners. He… might be right."

"And once he's established Texas, he'll set his sights on other states, whether they are willing or not." Jim's voice was harsh, and not merely due to a dry throat now. They were both aware of men in the south—and perhaps even some in the north—who were unhappy with how matters had evolved since Appomattox.

"Yes. President Grant cannot sit back and let this happen. Another war…"

Both men were silent a long moment. Then Jim repeated his earlier request. "Colonel, untie me! We can help you!"

Again Richmond shook his head. "Hilary will know it was me who helped you escape. He'll kill Bradley. Jim, where's Artemus?"

"He had business elsewhere."

Richmond's smile was slight. "I know that's a lie. Not only because the two of you are always together. You referred to 'us' and 'we.' Is he here in disguise?"

Jim met the other man's gaze in the dim light. "Colonel, untie me. Please!"

Richmond just shook his head, his face indescribably sad as he turned and exited through the door, leaving Jim in total darkness again. In anger and frustration, he struggled against the rawhide on his wrists. He was certain it was stretching some, but still not enough to allow him to pull his hands free.

W*W*W*W*W

Artemus crouched next to the large bush that was growing alongside the house's big front porch, and waited, listening. The only sounds he heard were the usual night sounds; a horse neighed in the corral, somewhere out in the fields a coyote howled and was answered by another; nocturnal birds called to each other. Nothing stirred at the bunkhouse. He knew Liam was awake, but they had agreed that he would remain in his bunk. One of them had to be the backup, just in case.

Artie knew he would have no problem getting inside the house. Few or no locks existed that he could not open. Problems could occur once he was in there. He had no idea where to look. Was Jim West imprisoned in the cellar, the attic, or somewhere else in the large house? At least three men were sleeping in there: the colonel, Hilary Reed, and the man Collier. Artemus suspected the cook and the young Mexican man who helped him also were quartered in the house somewhere.

Artemus had no doubt that his partner was a prisoner. Jim might have been bold enough to pay a call on Reed, although Artie doubted that was what happened. His horse would not have ended up in the Box RH corral if that were the case. Jim would have just as boldly ridden away.

Finally confident that his nocturnal activities had gone unnoticed by the slumbering crew, Artie crept around to the front steps, pulling the picklock out of his boot. About a minute was required before he heard the tumblers click and the latch gave way. He stepped into the interior darkness and once again paused, listening, as well as allowing his vision time to adjust to the deeper darkness. Only traces of the sliver of tonight's moon provided illumination through the windows, many of which had drapes pulled over them.

First things first. Let's check this floor before trying to find a basement, or going upstairs.

He found a fine parlor, one not quite as fine; another room apparently was used as Reed's study or office, as well as a dining room. Still another room seemed to be storage of extra or unused furnishings. A door under the stairs was a closet filled with coats and boots. Just beyond the stairs he encountered a locked door. He used the pick on it.

"Well, talk about the luck of the draw," Artemus breathed, noting the shadowy form in the chair. "How are you, pal?"

"Hungry, thirsty, you name it. Sick and tired of being in this chair. What's going on, Artie?"

"I was hoping you could tell me." He moved around behind, drawing the Bowie knife.

"Artie, wait. You can't free me. Reed will blame the colonel."

The knife paused just before slicing the ropes and Artemus stepped around in front. The darkness was inky in here, even with the door standing partially open. "What?"

"Richmond came to see me earlier. He wouldn't untie me, and he was right. They've got Bradley locked up…"

"I figured that's who it was."

"Caroline Richmond is in town, Artie. She came because she learned that Bradley had not gone on that cruise after all. She's terrified, and rightly so."

"My God! If Reed finds out she's here…!"

"I know. I've warned her to stay inside Mrs. Shea's house. I didn't tell the colonel either that she was in town. I don't know if he could take that. You know what Reed's plans are?"

"Yeah. Bender, one of Reed's lieutenants, finally clued us in. Crazy plan. I don't see how it could work."

"It might, Artie. Reed will force the colonel to help him gain access to the executive offices. Reed plans a massacre of the lawmakers, then a takeover during the ensuing chaos."

Artemus was silent for a moment. "Richmond will have to do it."

"Yeah. Reed must be insane to even consider killing his own blood kin!"

"What about you?"

"I'm not sure. Reed hasn't even come to talk to me since he put me in here."

"How did they get you?"

Briefly Jim described the event. "I got careless, that's all. But it might work out for the best."

"How?"

"I'm not entirely certain yet. But I am here. And you are out there. Liam?"

"He's still here. I'd better get back to the bunkhouse before he comes looking, though. You sure about this?"

"As much as I can be, pal. I wish you'd brought some water."

"Sorry. Didn't know what I was going to find… or if I would find anything. I'm trying to get on with the cadre of guards who take shifts at the cabin. If I can, I'll talk to Bradley. The kid must be scared out of his wits."

"He's a Richmond, Artie, with both the colonel and Caroline's blood. He'll be all right."

Artemus put a hand on his partner's shoulder in the dark. "I'll be around, buddy. See you later."

Jim West exhaled a deep sigh as the door closed, leaving him in utter darkness again. The temptation to allow Artemus to cut his bonds had been strong. He could not, however, forget the colonel's words. He also had to agree with him. If the strips showed signs of being cut, Richmond would be the first one suspected. Who knew what that madman might do in retaliation? No, if he was going to escape, he was going to have to do it on his own. He began trying to stretch the rawhide again.

W*W*W*W*W

"Hey, Carver!"

Artemus turned casually as he got up from the long table where the men had been served breakfast. "Yeah?"

Roy Bender motioned to him, then headed out the doorway. Artemus followed, his senses alert. He had been pretty sure his return to the bunkhouse early this morning had been unnoticed, but with forty-odd men in the bunks, nothing was certain. No one had roused to say anything. In any case, he had a story ready just in case.

Bender halted outside the door, off to one side and Artie joined him. "What's up?"

"I heard you were interested in hauling down some guard duty."

Artie shrugged, disguising his relief. "I heard there was extra money in it."

"Yeah, twenty bucks added onto your pay, for two two-hour shifts a day… or twenty-five for night duty."

"That sounds good to me. I'm usually somethin' of a night owl. Want me to start tonight?"

"I'll let you know. Got to talk to a couple of the boys that've been grousin' about workin' nights. If they want to quit, you're on."

"Just let me know." Artie turned to walk away.

"Carver. Wait a minute."

He looked back. "What?"

"Heard you was from up in the Dakotas."

"Yeah. So?"

"You know Frank Whelan?"

Artie frowned, then shrugged. "Heard of a Whelan. Was hanged up at Pierre sometime back. That one?"

"Hanged? You sure?"

Artie shrugged again. "Well, I'm pretty sure his name was Whelan. Friend of yours?" Artemus knew that a Frank Whelan had indeed been caught stealing horses, convicted, and executed. What he was unsure of was why Bender was asking. A test?

"Too bad. Too danged bad. Frank was a good man. I was wonderin' why he didn't show up here when Mr. Hilary sent out the word."

Now Artemus chuckled. "Guess he was otherwise occupied." With a wave, he sauntered away.

If I can get on the night guard, I can try to talk to Bradley, make sure he's all right if nothing else. The key to the cabin was passed from guard to guard, not that he really needed one. Just be easier, that's all.

Hearing a commotion from the area of the corral, Artie headed there, with a good suspicion about what was happening, and he was right. A couple of the men were now trying to put a saddle on Blackjack, and that stallion was objecting mightily. Others were standing outside the fence yelling insults and encouragement. Seeing one of the men in the corral pulling out a belt, Artie hurried forward.

"Bet you a hundred bucks I can handle him!" he called.

Everyone turned to look. Blackie was the one now holding his belt in his hand. "Hundred bucks? Worth that much to you to get killed?" he yelled back.

Artie grinned, hooking his thumbs in his gun belt. "I got me a way with horses, 'specially ornery ones. What do you say?"

"Go for it, Blackie," called one of the men on the fence. "We ain't seen a bashed in head for quite some time!"

"If you're that stupid," Blackie retorted, "go ahead. Make sure you got that hundred bucks in your pocket."

Artie slipped through the corral fence. His own chestnut whickered and trotted toward him. He patted the mare then moved toward the restless black one. He knew that Mesa would follow, and she did. Two familiar figures would help calm Blackjack, he figured, and that's what happened. The stallion tossed his head and stomped, but allowed Artemus to come up and stroke his neck as he touched muzzles with the chestnut.

"Put the saddle on him," Blackie demanded from over near the fence.

Artie glanced around. "Why? Who's going to be fool enough to try to ride him? Whose horse is this anyway? Don't recollect seeing it before."

Bender was at the outside of the fence now. "Belongs to a 'visitor' in the house. Come on, you boys. We got to set up a new schedule for the guard duty."

As it turned out, several men were asking to be relieved of their duties. Seems they thought the extra money was not worth the total boredom of sitting on that stoop for two or three hours, nor missing that amount of sleep at night. Along with "Mitch Carver," other willing recruits were available, though not all were as eager to take on the nighttime task. "Mitch" allowed that the extra five bucks was worth it… for a while anyway.

Okay. Artie stepped out of the bunkhouse after the meeting, throwing a long gaze toward the big white house. That'll give me an opportunity to talk to Bradley. Not sure what to do about Jim right now. I do not believe Reed intends to kill him, not right away at least. If that had been the case, he would have done it yesterday. I'm pretty certain Reed sees Jim as another hostage, either to hold against the colonel, or possibly against the United States government.

Jim had made his choice last night. As much as Artemus hated leaving his partner in that situation, he had understood. At least he and Liam were still available. Thus far, Reed appeared not to suspect that two of his hired men were imposters. Sure wish I could figure out an excuse go to into town now. If Reed is that close to initiating his plan, it would be good to send a telegraph message to both Austin and Washington. I might just have to slip away. If my absence is noticed…

Well, they would deal with that later. For now, simply getting away unnoticed was the problem. Too many men were constantly moving about the grounds. Saddling the chestnut would draw attention…

W*W*W*W*W

Jim blinked hard and felt the moisture flowing down his cheeks from his watering eyes as he was led out into the bright light of the front parlor. Collier and another man held either arm, and Jim's stagger was not faked. He was shaky after sitting in that chair for such a long period.

Hilary Reed was sitting on an easy chair. Colonel Richmond stood nearby, his body stiff, expression hard as he gazed as his captured underling. Selda Roman lounged on the sofa, a slight smile on her face.

"Good morning, Mr. West," Reed purred. "How do you feel?"

Jim licked his lips. Collier had given him a little bit of water before freeing him from the chair, just enough to wet his mouth and throat, but not nearly enough to quench his thirst. "Oh, just fine, Reed. I always feel great after twenty-four hours in isolation with no food or water."

Reed cocked his head. "As I have not given you permission to use my first name, I'm assuming you are aware of exactly who I am."

"Figured that out some time ago. I always wondered what it would be like to meet a dead man."

Now Hilary Reed laughed, pushing up out of the chair and stepping over to stand in front of his prisoner. "That was one of my better tricks."

"Mind telling me why you decided to die?"

Reed shrugged. "Just thought it was time. I had enough money to live well on the Continent for awhile… though I must admit not as long as I thought it would last."

"So you sneaked back to this country to raise some more."

"Something like that." Reed turned, walked toward the unlit fireplace then faced Jim again. "I don't like what happened in this country."

"Not many do," Jim replied softly, "but I suspect you and I have different views on what exactly we are talking about."

Coming closer again, Reed's smile was cold. "I presume you are referring to the war as a whole. I'm talking about the outcome. The South should never have surrendered."

"General Lee seemed to feel it was time. So did General Grant." Jim threw the last in for effect, and he saw Reed's gray eyes flash.

"Grant! The fool! Lee was a fool, too." He took a deep breath, appearing to regain his poise. "I intend to rectify matters, Mr. West. I'm going to reestablish the Confederacy, although it may not carry that name."

"Kingdom is more like it, you mean?"

Reed chuckled, then his face hardened. "I'd always heard you were a bright young man, Mr. West. But even intelligent men can be fools. Take my dear brother-in-law here." He waved toward the statue-like form of Richmond. "A long time ago I would have killed him if he had not been such a coward and refused my challenge."

"Sometimes more courage is required to avoid a fight rather than to accept it," Jim said softly.

Again the gray eyes narrowed. "I will not debate that with you at this moment. My sister was always considered to have more intelligence than most females, yet she chose a Yankee for a husband. I have to admit that in some small way, I admired her spunk… a very small way. But in doing so, Caroline was dead to me. I never spoke to her again. Did you know that? I was glad when Richmond was transferred back north and took her and their half-Yankee offspring with them. Now, ironically, I'm finding that having a Yankee in the family is to my advantage. James is going to assist me… willingly… to accomplish my goal."

"I don't consider holding a man's son hostage to force his cooperation exactly 'willingly'."

Reed's surprise was evident. "How did you know that?"

Jim smiled slightly. "I'm an intelligent man, remember? I also have sources… all over the country."

Now Reed gazed at him for a long, thoughtful moment. "How did you happen to come here, West?"

"You can't think that when a man of Colonel Richmond's stature disappears it's not going to be noticed."

"So you were sent… officially?"

Jim just looked back, meeting Reed's gray eyes steadily. Let him think whatever he wants to think. I cannot allow him to realize Caroline is nearby or is even involved in any manner.

"Where's your partner, Gordon?"

"He had a toothache and stayed home."

Reed slapped him then, hard, across the mouth. The blow stung, but did not draw any blood. "Where is he, West?"

"Mr. Gordon is off on another assignment. That occurs occasionally. Ask the colonel."

Reed actually glanced toward Richmond, before turning his attention back to Jim. "I don't believe you, West. Gordon is around somewhere."

Selda Roman spoke for the first time. "Hil, I would imagine that if Mr. West was in distress, his partner might try to rescue him."

Reed nodded slowly. "You could be right, my dear. I think…" He stopped his words as loud shouts were heard from outside. Reed jerked his head at the second man who was still holding Jim's arm. "Go see what's going on."

The man hurried out the front door. Reed was obviously concerned enough to remain silent, waiting, looking toward the half open door. After several minutes, the man returned, shaking his head.

"One of the boys was fool enough to put a saddle on West's horse and try to ride him. Horse ran off with him." The man grinned briefly.

"Which man?"

"I don't know. One of the new fellows, I think."

Because all attention was on the man bearing the tale, Jim shot a glance toward the colonel, who looked back toward him at the same moment. Jim realized they were sharing the same thought. Artie! He's the only one who could mount Blackjack. But what the devil is he up to? If the colonel had had any doubts previously about Gordon's presence, he certainly knew now.

Reed swung around again. "Well, it's his neck. I'll dock his pay when he gets back—if that neck isn't broken when the black throws him. Now, Mr. West. You mentioned the discomfort of being without water and food for twenty-four hours in a darkened room. I wonder how a few hours in the hot sun would enhance that discomfort. You may be willing to talk to me for a few sips of water."

W*W*W*W*W

Artemus took the time to roll in some dust and tear his shirt sleeve in a couple of places before he trudged over the hill, leading the still spirited black horse. He returned from a completely different direction than where he had actually been, Wine Creek. The men at the ranch razzed him until he displayed a surly attitude, especially because they believed the horse had thrown him. Blackie in particular rode him, so much so that "Mitch" challenged him to a fight. Others yelled encouragement, but to Artie's relief, Bender stepped in. The boss, he said, wouldn't appreciate having any of them banged up now. He warned "Mitch" that the boss would probably fine him for going off against orders.

"Hell, it was that devil horse!" Artie protested to no avail.

Only when he led the black steed into the corral did he see the appalling sight of Jim West tied spread eagle against the far fence, on the side where the sun was most strong this time of day. "What's goin' on there?" Artie asked. "Who's that fellow?" Jim's head was sagging.

"Dunno," replied the nearest man. "Someone the boss don't like, I guess. Reckon he's the owner of that fine horse you like so well." The man grinned.

Aware that he was helpless to rescue his partner at the moment, Artie went into the bunkhouse to wash up and change his shirt. Then he went to find Liam. He had to wait awhile because the redhead was with several other men cleaning out the stalls in the stable.

"Where the devil did you go?" Liam asked as he emerged from the building and hoisted a saddle onto the fence to begin to work on a torn strap.

Artie lit a cigar. "To send a warning to Austin. I used Jim's gear to tap into the telegraph lines. Also sneaked into town and caught Mrs. Richmond up to date."

"She's here?"

"She's here. Long story but she found out that Bradley was brought here. Nothing could stop her from coming. The good news is that I've got a shift of night guard duty, along with being scheduled to sit there for a couple hours today. Don't think I can release Bradley, but I can at least let the kid know we're here."

"What about Jim?" Liam looked toward the other agent.

Artemus grimaced. "Can't do anything. Jim knows that. I'd like to know what Reed hopes to accomplish by torturing Jim."

"Look!"

Artie glanced at Liam, saw he was staring toward the house, so turned his gaze that way. To his amazement, Colonel Richmond had just emerged from the front door and was striding toward the corral, a metal cup in his hand. "He's going to give Jim water!" Artie whispered.

By unspoken agreement, the two men left the corral fence, going in different directions, but heading toward where Jim was bound, and where the colonel's path was leading. Other men stopped and stared, but no one immediately moved. They're all too astonished, Artie decided, and hoped they remained in that state for just a few moments longer.

Richmond reached Jim, putting a hand under his chin, to lift his face and place the cup at his lips. Artie could see that Jim drank thirstily. Just about then, the man closest to where Jim was tied, whom Artie had just walked by, started toward the colonel, yelling, "Hey!" Artie tripped just then, throwing himself against that man, who staggered off to one side.

"Oh, sorry," Artie apologized. "Still shaky from the ride on that damn black horse I guess." The purpose was accomplished, as Richmond was able to give Jim the entire cup of water. Other men hurried toward the scene now, but no one touched the colonel as he swung around and strode back toward the house. All simply stared at him.

Artie saw that Jim had his head up now. The water had refreshed him. However, Artemus was aware that before long the powerful sun would debilitate him again. Jim had indicated he had not been given any food or water in the house, and chances were good that had continued, and was possibly the reason he was now being exposed to the elements. Reed wants something from him. Information?

Not much later, Collier came out of the house, signaled to another man, and the two of them took Jim down and dragged him toward the house. While Artie experienced some relief that his partner being taken out of the broiling sun, he had to wonder what Reed had in mind now. I have to trust that Jim will do what's needed to stay alive.

W*W*W*W*W

"What do you want from me?" Jim's voice was less hoarse now, but he was still feeling weak from his treatment over the last day and a half. He had been brought inside and allowed to collapse onto the carpet in the parlor. They did not even bother to tie his hands again.

Hilary Reed glared down at him. "Seeing as how your friend the colonel showed you the mercy I had no intention of displaying, I hope you will return the favor."

"Such as?" Jim was able to pull himself to a sitting position. The few hours in the sun, combined with the starvation and dehydration he had been subjected to, had sapped his stamina.

"Are you acquainted with the governor of Texas?"

Jim shook his head. "Not really. I believe I may have met him at some reception. Shook his hand. That's all. I doubt I'd have the pull to get into his chambers, if that's what you're driving at." He tried to sound beaten down and possibly amenable to anything that would result in better treatment. Where is the colonel? Being punished for helping me? That was the first thing he had noticed after being brought inside: Colonel Richmond's absence. Selda Roman was also not present, but she may have gone back to town.

"Tell me where Gordon is."

"I did tell you," Jim sighed heavily. "He had another assignment, one that took him, I believe, to Colorado. I wasn't given the particulars. That happens on occasion."

"I just don't believe you, West. Everything I ever heard indicated you and Gordon always worked together. I'm afraid I don't know what he looks like. So we will have to experiment." He nodded to Collier, who went to the front door and opened it.

Jim did not react as Liam entered, following by two men, both holding guns on him. Liam looked properly confused, staring wide-eyed at the man sitting on the floor. "Mr. Hilary," he said, fingering the hat he held in both hands. "What's going on? Did I do something wrong? If so, I'm sure sorry. I'm kind of new here…"

"Is this Gordon?" Reed demanded, pointing toward Liam.

Jim shook his head slowly. "I never saw him before."

Again Reed nodded to his right-hand man. This time Collier drew his own gun and held it to Liam's head.

"Is this Gordon?" Reed repeated. "Tell me the truth or I'll have his brains splattered all over the floor."

"I don't know him," Jim said calmly. "He doesn't mean a thing to me." He doubted Liam had to do much acting to display the fear in his eyes.

"Mr. Reed!" Liam cried desperately. "My name ain't Gordon. It's O'Donnell! Liam O'Donnell! I ain't Scotch! I'm Irish!"

The moments that followed were an eternity. Jim sat quietly, hoping that none of his dread appeared on his face. If he kills Liam… Jim was unsure what his own reaction would be. He knew what it should be. A great deal was at stake, more than just the colonel's family.

"Let him go," Reed said then.

Liam had no difficulty displaying his relief. He stammered out his gratitude and had to be shoved back out the door. Reed looked down at Jim. "I'm not sure about you, West. Either that man really doesn't meaning anything to you, or you're one hell of an actor. Or else you're a cold-blooded bastard."

The pot calling the kettle black! "I've told you, my partner is in Colorado. I'm here alone."

"And you tracked the colonel here."

"That's right." Jim gazed steadily into the gray eyes.

The silence was long and heavy. Jim tried to discern Reed's thoughts, but the man was practiced in hiding his feelings. Finally Reed shrugged and looked at Collier. "Get him some food and water, then put him in the room again, tied securely. One thing I've heard about West is that he's an escape artist, even when you think you've taken all his toys from him. Put a guard outside the door."

W*W*W*W*W

Artemus heard the back door of the house open and looked that way. His relief was great upon seeing his partner, with two guards, striding toward the outhouse behind the house. Doesn't look like he was beaten or otherwise mistreated. In fact, he looks pretty good, considering. Maybe they at least gave him more water, even food.

But Jim was still a prisoner, just as were the colonel and young Bradley Richmond. Although the colonel had some freedom, he was also chained here by the presence of his son and probable threats against his wife and daughters.

Artie had seem Liam taken into the house earlier, but still had not had opportunity to talk to the Pinkerton man. He knew that Liam appeared a bit shaken when he emerged, but was unsure if that was real or an act.

I think we have to make a move soon. Could be that Reed is getting suspicious. He may know that Jim has a partner. Not only that, it seems that Reed himself is planning to put his plan into motion very soon now. I've warned Austin and asked them to pass it on to Washington, but trouble could be on the horizon. A hundred or more armed men in the state capital could mean a bloodbath! Besides trying to talk to Bradley tonight, I believe I'll pay a call on Jim.

W*W*W*W*W

Artemus sat on the small porch for the good part of an hour, hunched down, head bowed, as though he might be dozing. As previously, he became reasonably certain he was not being watched before he stood up and used the key on the door of the cabin.

"Bradley?"

The shaky voice came from the dark depths of the room. "Who's that?"

"Bradley, it's Artemus Gordon."

He heard a scrambling and then caught the shadow of the figure before hands gripped his arms. "Mr. Gordon! You've come to free me!"

"I'm sorry, no. You can't leave yet."

The hands dropped, and Bradley sighed heavily. "Is Father in danger still?"

"Very much so. Jim West, too. They are both prisoners in the house. I'm here posing as one of the gunmen your uncle has hired."

"My eyes are pretty accustomed to this darkness," Bradley said. "I can see your disguise."

"Good." Artie smiled briefly. "I just wanted to let you know that we are here, that you shouldn't give up hope. We're going to do everything we can to ensure you and your father are freed safely, and that Hilary Reed is stopped."

"He's mad! Mother told me about him a long time ago. We thought he was dead!"

"I know. Now here's what I want you to do right now."

W*W*W*W*W

As before, Jim West was dozing when he heard the scratching sound at the door of his prison. He waited to see the identity of his visitor, but was not surprised when he recognized the shadowy form of his partner. Artie lit a match, and ignited a stub of a candle with it.

"How are you, Jim?"

"I'm just dandy," the man tied to the chair replied with mild irony. "At least they've been feeding me and providing water today."

Artie grinned. "I don't suppose you'll let me untie you now either."

Jim sighed, shaking his head. "It would fall on the colonel's head. Bad enough that Liam was targeted today. At least Reed believed me when I said he wasn't you."

"So he is suspicious."

"Very. What happened when you went off on Blackjack?"

"A very wild ride, pal. How the devil you control that horse, I don't know. I let him have his head so it would appear as though he was running away from me, but in truth, he did! I finally got him under control to ride to the telegraph line. I sent a wire to Austin, but didn't have time to repeat it to Washington. I could see some riders in the distance who appeared to be coming right toward me, so figured I'd best get out of there. I went into town to check on Caroline. She's fine, but extremely anxious. I'm not sure if Mrs. Shea can keep her inside much longer."

"Well, we can hope that this isn't going to last much longer. And hope that the authorities in Austin took your message seriously."

"Yeah. Listen, I got a shift of nighttime guard duty on Bradley's cabin. Right now the kid is sitting on the stoop wearing my hat. He's game, though scared."

"He's all right, though?"

"Yeah. They've been feeding him. But he's been in that cabin for over a week with no one to talk to except the guy who brings his tray—and that's usually just 'take this' or 'gimme that!' He's a Richmond though, as you said. Jim, what can we do against the horde of gunmen Reed has here?"

Jim grimaced. "I don't know, Artie. Perhaps our best strategy is to try to get the colonel and his son out, grab Caroline, and keep going."

"Easier said than done!"

"Yeah. I'd like to be able to talk to Colonel Richmond some more, but he's watched pretty closely. I was hoping he'd come in here again."

"Have any idea which room is his?"

"Not a clue. Artie, you can't go prowling around the house…"

"Who, me? I'd better get a move on. My shift has another hour to go, but there's always a chance someone will wander outside and approach the kid. I'll tell Liam about our tentative plans. He's sharp. He may have some ideas about how to pull it off!"

"Do you have your little penknife?"

"Yeah." Artemus dug the two-inch folded blade from his pocket and inserted it inside a small pocket under the waistband at the back of Jim's trousers. He found himself experiencing some relief with the awareness that his partner had not only a means of escape but also something of a weapon.

W*W*W*W*W

Colonel James Richmond awakened instantly when the hand pressed over his mouth. He stared up at the mustachioed man leaning over him, illuminated by the moonlight through the window then pushed the hand away. "Artemus! I knew you were around." He kept his voice to a whisper.

Artie sat down on the side of the large bed as the colonel pulled himself to a sitting position. "How are you faring, colonel?"

"This is a hellish situation, Artemus. Hilary has Bradley…"

"Bradley is fine. He told me that he had not been allowed to see or speak to you since you were first brought here."

Richmond did not ask his agent how that had been accomplished. Somehow West and Gordon always managed to do the impossible. "You turned him loose?"

"No. Not yet. That isn't wise. Not until we're all ready to clear out."

The colonel's eyes narrowed. "You know Jim is a prisoner too…"

"I just talked to him," Artie grinned. Then his smile faded. "There are too many men on this ranch for us to try to leave openly. I have managed to alert Austin about Reed's machinations. But I warned them to be cautious about approaching the ranch. If a troop of Rangers or cavalry came thundering in…"

"I agree. So what's the plan?"

"Not entirely sure yet. There are several factors to be considered." Not the least of which is the fact that your wife is in Wine Creek, colonel! Artie knew better than to give that information to James Richmond right now. He had enough on his plate.

Richmond gazed at his agent. He's holding something back. "Jim told me that Mrs. Richmond came to you for help."

"That's true. She was quite upset, naturally."

"I'm sorry I had to do that to her. I didn't want her to be… involved… any more than necessary."

"Yes, sir. I think I should tell you now that we are not alone. Your wife hired a Pinkerton man, and he's the one who initially tracked you down to Texas. He's here with us."

"Redheaded man?"

Artie nodded. "We're hoping that among the three of us we can get you and Bradley out of here. Maybe tomorrow night."

"If Hilary doesn't decide to murder Jim in the meanwhile."

Artemus shook his head. "Not as long as you cooperate. I'm pretty sure he's counting on you not wanting to have either Bradley or Jim hurt."

"And he's right. Artemus, he's insane. In his youth, he was simply regarded as wild, but the older he got, the worse it became. Caroline told me once she believed Hilary murdered two men in South Carolina. That was the reason he left home, even though he was never accused, let alone arrested. Being a scion of a prominent family has its benefits!"

Artie got up. "I'd better get out of here. Stay alert, colonel. Do whatever you have to do to protect your son. With any luck, the authorities in Austin are taking steps to prevent a coup. If Reed becomes aware of it, that may put a big crimp in his plans and slow him down at least."

W*W*W*W*W

The sun was noon high before Jim was taken out of his storeroom prison to be fed in the kitchen and then pushed into the study where Hilary Reed was seated behind his shiny desk. Placed in a straight-backed chair, Jim was again fastened to it by ropes.

"Thanks for the meal," he said blandly. "Don't suppose you'd go for a bath and shave."

Reed gazed at him with a slight smile. "No need for that. You have no one to impress. Have you thought about the benefits of confession?"

"My sins, you mean?"

"I mean telling me where your partner is. I know he's around. I talked to a couple of hired men who know more about you than I do. They tell me Gordon is quite good at disguise. A former actor."

"He was a darned good actor too. He could get a job with any theater company in the world if he so desired. His Falstaff…"

"That's not what I'm asking."

"Oh? I thought you wanted to discuss the theater."

Reed's fingers drummed on the desktop. "Do you have a death wish, West?"

"Not particularly. I don't fear death, however."

"No, I don't suppose that would be a good thing in your profession. At the moment, I'm keeping you alive because you may be useful, both with the dear colonel and with the government of the Yankee states. I may be able to trade you for concessions."

"Don't count on it. I'm not that important in the whole scheme of things."

"We shall see. Be aware, however, that I would have no compunction in having you killed… and perhaps not necessarily a quick and painless death. I expect to be flexible."

Jim's green eyes met the gray ones. "That's good to hear. The flexible part, I mean."

"You're a cool one, West, I'll give you that. But I intend to ferret out your partner. He may be right outside. I hired a dozen new men the last couple of weeks. If he's here, likely he's among them. Perhaps I'll simply have those men killed."

"Won't you run the risk of making yourself shorthanded? You're going to run into opposition in Austin. The Texas militia, the Rangers—perhaps even United States troops if they are handy enough."

"Surprise is on my side. By the time any of those forces can be mustered, I'll be in control. Grant won't want to risk civilian lives. He'll negotiate. And as other states join my coalition, our negotiating power will grow stronger and stronger."

"You're that sure other states will want to participate."

"Of course!" Reed's voice crackled, his eyes became granite stones. "You have no idea how many men despise the Yankee government that has been imposed on them!"

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good notion. But I also know that lot of people are sick and tired of war. The country is just beginning to recover. I suspect you are overestimating your influence, Reed. Chances are very good that the men you expect to join you will actually fight against you."

"Don't be ridiculous! You have no knowledge of the southern people! They are not all stupid and soft like my sister, falling in love with a Yankee!"

"They do say love is blind."

Hilary Reed was about to say something further when loud voices were heard from elsewhere in the house, toward the front, along with heavy footsteps. Reed got to his feet just as the study door burst open to admit the grungy sheriff, Jess Metcalf.

"Mr. Reed!" he gasped out, belatedly jerking his hat off. Collier and another man, along with Selda Roman, were right behind him, and their expressions revealed they were very disturbed as well.

"What the devil is going on?" Reed demanded.

"Mr. Reed!" the sheriff croaked again, taking a few steps forward and holding out a pale yellow folded sheet of paper. "They know!"

Reed came around the desk, frowning deeply as he took the paper, which he opened and quickly read. Jim watched as at first Reed's complexion paled, then grew ruddy. He crumpled the paper in a fist, glared for a moment at his three minions then swung to Jim. "How did they find out? Did you tell them?"

Jim shook his head. "I have no idea what you are talking about." He kept face expressionless.

The frantic sheriff spoke before Reed could. "There's a whole troop of bluecoats in Austin! And Rangers and all the militia! They got the capitol surrounded!"

"How did you know?" Reed demanded, stepping toward the man bound to the chair. "You couldn't have known the entire plan before you came here!"

"I didn't."

Reed backhanded him, this time drawing blood as Jim's lip split. "Your partner then. Where is Gordon?"

"In Colorado." Jim felt the warm liquid trailing down his chin as his mouth stung. He moved his hands slightly behind him, feeling the bulge of the tiny knife secreted in his waistband, drawing mild comfort from it. The time might be coming to use it!

Hilary Reed stepped back then, drawing deep breaths to regain his aplomb. "All right. All right. It's not a disaster. It just means delaying matters. When the expected attack does not occur, the troops will be returned to their garrisons."

"Hilary," Selda moved to put a hand on his arm. "If they know about the attack, they might know who…"

"I'm ahead of you, my dear. We'll move all the men to another location immediately. If anyone comes to investigate, it'll be just a working ranch."

"What about Richmond and his kid?" Collier wanted to know.

"I think we can keep them here, along with West. There's the attic, as well as the cellar. It will be easy to erect a strong cell to keep them in, one that is well disguised. We have a few days leeway to prepare. Collier, go get Bender so we can plan the transfer of our troops. Jake, you take West back to his little room for now, then put Richmond in with him. I don't want to have to keep track of the colonel for the moment."

W*W*W*W*W

"What the devil is going on, Jim? Collier, wouldn't say a word, just dragged me in here."

"I'm not sure, colonel," Jim replied. With the door closed again, the darkness was complete, but his superior had been bound to a chair alongside his own that was dragged into the room. Very softly he whispered, "Outside the door."

Richmond grasped his meaning instantly, and spoke aloud. "I can't figure it. He's allowed me almost complete freedom until now."

"All I know," Jim said then, "is that Reed got a telegraph message saying the state government is on alert. Somehow there was a leak—which of course he's blaming on me." The sound he had heard before, a creaking floorboard, sounded again. Reed had either told Collier to listen to their conversation, or Collier took it upon himself to do so.

"Is that right? That's wonderful. Maybe Hilary will think twice before making his move. But who do you suppose leaked the word?"

"I have no idea. Like I told Reed, Artie's in Colorado. I didn't know the full plan until I was brought here." In the darkness, he smiled tightly, clearly hearing the footsteps moving away from outside the door. He lowered his voice nevertheless. "I think he's gone. Colonel, this is going to work in our favor. Reed plans to move all his gun men to another location right away."

"Ah. That will improve the odds, to be certain. Artemus came to my room last night, told me some of it. Jim, we have to get Bradley out of here!"

"We will, colonel. We will." Jim was not surprised in the least to learn that Artemus had roved through the house further last night.

Richmond sighed. "I don't know how we are going to get out of these ropes!"

"Don't worry about that, sir. That's the least of our worries right now."

W*W*W*W*W

"What the hell's goin' on? I don't wanta go to Mexico!"

The man nearest the complainer chortled. "That's on account of you're wanted by the Federales too, Shorty!"

"Just shut up and keep packin'," Roy Bender ordered. "Boss says we gotta be on our way by this evenin'. It'll be two-three days getting' over the border, seein' as we need to stay out of towns and avoid the law."

"Me, I'm happy for a vacation in Mexico," the man known as Mitch Carver called out. "Lotsa good-lookin', hot-blooded women down there."

The conversation continued as the men gathered their meager possessions into saddlebags and blanket rolls. No one really asked too many questions. They were not the kind of men who needed to know the whys and wherefores. They just wanted to know when they were going to be paid.

Artie packed his gear, his mind racing. He had to come up with a way to separate himself from the main group once it started south. Liam had been nearby when Collier and Bender gave the orders to pack up and get ready to move out, so he would have a glimmer of what was going on, although he might not know why yet.

A great deal might depend on whether Reed planned to send his hostages along with his hired guns. Nothing had been said about them thus far. Artemus had given Hilary Reed's name in the telegraph message to Austin, so a good chance existed that authorities were on their way here, which was of course why Reed was moving his guns out. He would not want to have a personal army on site. One would think he would also not want to have prisoners!

Men like Reed, however, always think they are smarter than law-abiding, and in particular law-enforcing people. He may well believe he can hide Jim, the colonel, and Bradley away from whoever shows up. In a sense, that might indeed be safer than putting them out on the road. I just hope he isn't planning to kill and bury them!

Artie did not think that would be the case. Reed needed the colonel for entrée into the Governor's quarters. Even if the coup had to be delayed due to this development, chances were good that he would not be changing his basic plans. In a few weeks, the commotion would settle down and he could boldly implement his scheme. That's the way he would be thinking, never concerning himself with the possibility that someone might be smart enough to keep an eye on him for awhile!

Artemus surreptitiously placed his Bowie knife under the mattress of his bunk. If the party left this afternoon, chances were good they would continue well into the night before camping. They could make fifty or sixty miles before settling up camp somewhere. Artemus did not want to be that far away before heading back. He had previously told a couple of men about the "sentimental value" of the weapon to him. He could, he hoped, suddenly notice it was missing from his belt and return for it. At least it was worth a try. If that same luck held out, he might be able to get the drop on Reed and whoever remained at the ranch with him then free Jim and the others.

W*W*W*W*W

Jim and Colonel Richmond were brought out of their dark prison late in the afternoon. Bradley was already in the parlor, seated on the sofa. The disheveled youth jumped to his feet, but a warning glance from his father stayed him. Jim could see the emotions on the faces of father and son; this was the first they had met face-to-face in some time. Bradley was not yet tied up. Apparently he was considered of no danger.

Reed smugly informed them that his "army" had departed, with no traces of them remaining. Any visitors would view only regular hands doing their chores. "I'll have a new cell for you three prepared so you won't be an inconvenience if and when any officials come."

Richmond gazed stonily at his brother-in-law. "Hilary, I've told you time and again. My absence has to have been noticed long before now. And Jim's too. I was supposed to be back in Washington days ago."

Reed shrugged. "You're not the first government official to abscond. No doubt Caroline is realizing what a mistake she made. Yankees are not to be trusted."

Jim exchanged a glance with the colonel. They had discussed this in the darkness of their cell. Reed's insanity was preventing him from comprehending the situation. Regardless of what Reed did now, whether he turned his prisoners loose or murdered them, whether he sent his army away or continued to keep them in a group, the government was now aware of his scheme. He had lost the surprise factor entirely. Nevertheless, warnings did not faze him. He thought he knew it all.

The question is whether we can stop him, now that he's alone, before he does commit murder! Liam O'Donnell is undoubtedly still on the premises, and I'm sure that Artie will find a way to return, perhaps in another guise. Artie and Liam should know how much danger, if any, the regular hands present to us. They are being paid to work, not to fight, from what I understand.

One thing he knew. They had to make their break before they were locked in the cellar or wherever Reed was planning to put them. Artie's little penknife might be of some use picking a lock, but would not be much of a weapon. Jim was sure he could retrieve the knife from his waistband and cut his own bonds without detection right now, but releasing the colonel would not be as easy. He could see Collier and another man standing on the porch, probably the "Jake" who earlier had appeared to be Collier's assistant.

Even as he eyed the two men outside the front window, Jim saw both men stiffen as though having spotted something. Then Collier came to the front door and opened it. "Mr. Hilary, there's a buggy coming up the road. Ain't Miss Selda's!"

W*W*W*W*W

Artie was able to disengage himself from the "army" sooner than he anticipated, with a little help from one of the other riders, who noticed that the sheath on Mitch Carver's belt was empty. They were only about an hour away from the Box RH at the time. Artie had cussed a blue streak then told Bender he needed to return to the ranch for that knife. He would catch up before nightfall, he swore.

"You boys are leaving such a fine trail there ain't no way I can lose you!"

Bender reluctantly agreed, though took Mitch aside and suggested he not let Mr. Hilary see him returning. "We both might get into big trouble!"

Approaching the ranch, Artie rode to a hill overlooking the buildings, unknowingly choosing the same site his partner had used earlier. He watched the area with his spyglass for twenty or thirty minutes, spotting Liam, and seeing Collier and another man standing on the porch. Nothing else appeared to be going on. He had no way of knowing what was occurring inside the house.

He then went to his horse and pulled a shirt and his makeup kit out of the saddlebags. He changed from the calico shirt to a plain blue one, donning an old well-worn leather vest over it. The mustache and all the scars came off his face, so that his only facial disguise were the whiskers that he had deliberately left unshaven over the last couple of days.

No one knows Artemus Gordon here now—except my friends, of course. The horse would be a problem. The men here would recognize Mesa. He had just decided to go in on foot, perhaps carrying his saddle and claiming he had had to dispose of his injured steed, when he noticed the buggy approaching the house.

Artie frowned then took up the telescope again, gasping aloud as he identified the driver. Caroline! What are you doing?!

W*W*W*W*W

Hilary Reed went to the partially open front door to peer out. Jim was just starting to maneuver to retrieve the penknife when Reed swung back, smiling broadly. "Well, you'll never guess who has decided to pay us a call!"

Jim saw the baffled expressions on the faces of Richmond and his son, but he knew instantly who it must be. I'm afraid it's just what we might have expected from Caroline Richmond. She was patient as long as she could stand it. Only she has chosen exactly the wrong time to show up.

Telling Collier to watch the prisoners, Reed exited, while his man entered, his hand on his gun butt.

"Who is it, Father?" Bradley asked, his gray eyes wide. Bradley was his father in every aspect except the eyes; although he still possessed the slenderness of youth, no doubt in a few years he would mature to resemble his father's stocky build as well.

The colonel shook his head then looked at Jim, who sighed. Might as well spare them the shock. "I'm afraid it's your wife, colonel."

"Mother?" Bradley gasped.

Colonel Richmond gaped at Jim a moment. "Are you—how did…?"

"I told you she asked for our help. We were in New Orleans at the time. We sent her back home, but partway there, she learned that Bradley had disappeared. She changed trains and came to Wine Creek. I urged her to stay in town but obviously…"

They could hear voices outside now, one a female voice. Her tones were sharp and angry. Richmond sighed again. "To be honest, I am only surprised she did not follow me sooner."

Jim had to smile a bit. "She did. Long story, colonel. Let's hope you get a chance to hear it!"

Collier was listening to their conversation with a deep frown, but he turned and opened the door wide, obviously hearing footsteps on the porch. Caroline Reed Richmond entered, head high. "Hello, James," she said, gazing at her husband. "I'm glad to see you looking so well."

"Mother!" Bradley cried and rushed to hug his parent. Jim could see that Caroline's resolve was almost dissolved as she put her arms around her son, but she retained her poise, holding him at arms' length for a moment. "Bradley, you look a mess!"

"I'm sorry, Mother."

She smiled gently. "I know it's not your fault. Jim, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Richmond."

"What a touching family reunion," Hilary Reed smirked, his eyes on the colonel, who was stone-faced. "Here we are, all together, at last. I'm only sorry I did not arrange to have the girls brought here."

Caroline spun. "You leave my daughters alone!"

"I shall," Reed purred, reaching out to pat her arm. She jerked out of his reach before contact was made. He scowled. "As long as your husband behaves himself and follows orders, you and your offspring will be fine. You are my blood, remember."

"I'm so glad mother and father are not here to witness this!" Caroline hissed. "Hilary, what is the matter with you? What are you trying to do? You must let James and Bradley—and Jim—go free at once!"

"That's what we have been trying to tell him," Jim spoke conversationally, "pointing out that the colonel and I will have been missed by now. Apparently officials in Austin already learned of Mr. Reed's plans and are taking steps. I have no doubt visitors will be arriving at any time."

"And I shall tell them exactly what's going on!" Caroline fumed.

This time Reed did grab his sister's arm. "No, Caroline dear, you will not! Not if you want your husband and son returned to you safely. I would have no problem killing them. One is a damnable Yankee and the brat is half Yankee!"

Caroline attempted to jerk free, but the grip was too firm. "Hilary, you are mad!"

His smile was smug. "No, not mad; merely smarter than the average man. Tell her, Mr. West. Tell her how my plan is going to succeed."

Jim gazed back, silent. He was sure he heard footsteps behind him, in the room next to this one. A double door connected the two rooms. He doubted it was the cook. Artie and Liam are out there somewhere. Liam, at least, must have seen Caroline arrive. If he can take them by surprise…

Jake had remained out on the porch, and now he stuck his head in through the partially opened front door. "Mr. Hilary, someone else is coming. Fellow on foot."

"Oh, what the devil now!" Reed released his sister, turning to look out the door. "Looks like a saddle tramp. Get rid of him!"

With attention again drawn away, Jim swiftly pulled the knife out, snapped it open and began sawing at the rawhide thongs. Bradley turned to look at him, and that perceptive young man realized something was afoot. He moved over to stand alongside Jim, who passed him the knife as soon as his hands were free. Jim kept his hands behind his back, and took a step forward, partially shielding Bradley as he reached behind his father with the knife.

Some shouting came from outside and Jim recognized his partner's voice. He appeared to be arguing with Jake about whether he could or could not rest here for a spell. Reed stood in the doorway and began to yell back, threatening the newcomer with violence or arrest if he didn't leave at once.

Jim did not move as he heard the door open behind him; he then felt the cool metal of a weapon pressed into his hands. Only then did he glance around to see Cinnia O'Donnell's cousin, holding another gun. Jim reached forward then, seizing Caroline's arm to pull her back behind him.

"Reed! Put up your hands!"

Hilary Reed swung around, pure astonishment on his countenance. The surprise was quickly replaced with rage. "How dare you!" he screeched, reaching inside his coat.

Jim fired as the shiny metal of a weapon began to appear, catching Reed in the right shoulder. Collier had already thrown up his hands, but the man Jake, hearing the shout and weapon going off, jumped in through the doorway, his own gun in his hand.

Caroline, seeing her younger brother stagger back, blood on his coat, had instinctively dashed forward before her husband or Jim could stop her. Jake acted swiftly, grabbing her by the arm and swinging her in front of him.

"Drop the gun, West! You too, O'Donnell!"

Caroline's face was stricken as she realized what her unthinking act had done. Both Jim and Liam lowered their weapons, but did not immediately release them. Reed got to his knees, picking up his own dropped weapon in his right hand, lifting it to point at Jim's head.

"I don't need you, West. I don't need you at all!"

"But I do," Artemus Gordon said behind him, jamming his weapon against Reed's spine. "Jake, drop your gun. You too, Reed! Now!"

Jake hesitated, looking toward Reed after a glance toward Collier, who was still holding up his arms, and that hesitation gave Richmond a chance to step forward and grab the gun. "It's over, Hilary," the colonel said steadily.

"Hilary," Caroline spoke softly, standing next to her son now and holding his hand. "Please. Just put your gun down."

Jim saw it then, the flame of madness in Hilary Reed's gray eyes. His face tightened, but before Jim could call out a warning, Reed spun, seemingly ignoring his wounded shoulder, and hurled himself against Artemus behind him. The move was completely unexpected, and Artemus was also surprised by the strength of the injured man. He found himself falling backwards, and barely caught hold of the porch railing to try to right his body.

Jim took a step toward the door but Liam O'Donnell moved more swiftly, racing out the door and yelling for Reed to stop. As Jim followed, he took a quick look at his partner to make sure he was all right. Seeing Artie getting to his feet, he continued after the two men. Again, Reed's strength and speed were astounding, considering his wound. Men working in the yard simply stopped and gaped as Liam followed Hilary Reed into the stables.

Jim reached the stable door, aware that Artie was following him. He heard the two shots just as he stepped inside, and Artie pulled up alongside him. A few seconds were needed for their eyes to adjust to the dimness inside. Then they saw Liam standing near a stall, clutching his bleeding arm. O'Donnell looked around.

"He wouldn't stop."

Moving over, they saw Hilary Reed sprawled on his back, a new bullet hole in his chest. His eyes were open, staring sightlessly upward. Artemus quietly stepped up to bend down and close those eyes.

"The insanity took over completely," Jim said softly. "You didn't have a choice, Liam. He would have killed you."

"He would have killed everyone," Artie said grimly. "Thousands, if his plans had been successful. Another war…."

He did not need to say anything further. The faces of his partner and the Pinkerton man were somber with memories, horrified with the idea of young men experiencing what they had. Silently they turned and walked back to the house. Colonel Richmond had kept Collier and Jake there, under guard, and prevented his son and wife from following the lawmen. Caroline Richmond's eyes filled with sadness when she saw the expressions of the three men. They did not need to tell her what had occurred.

Reed's two henchmen were temporarily confined in the same room where Jim and the colonel had been held. Liam and Artemus had a good of idea about which of the hired hands could be trusted to stand guard, and they brought two of them into the house, with stern instructions. Caroline and Artemus patched up Liam's arm. Liam identified the most likely man to be put in charge of what men remained at the Box RH until the state decided what to do with the property. The two agents and O'Donnell got their horses and rode into town.

Selda Roman was gone from Wine Creek. They never learned how she found out what had occurred so quickly. Perhaps she had taken a clue from the telegram that had warned Reed about Austin being on alert. She had apparently emptied her safe, packed her personal possessions into a buggy, and just headed elsewhere. Although both the colonel and Jim had witnessed Selda's interaction with Hilary Reed at the ranch, they had no real proof of how deeply she was involved in Reed's machinations, so no pursuit was taken up.

Sheriff Jess Metcalf, however, was still in town. Both Jim and Colonel Richmond had been present when Metcalf reported to Reed with the telegraph message, so he was arrested as being complicit in the conspiracy to commit treason.

Mary Shea was delighted to put them all up in her home, providing baths and food. Caroline visited the mercantile to find fresh clothing for her grubby son. Others in town and the surrounding area, upon learning that the man who had terrorized them for so long was dead, happily came to Mrs. Shea's home to thank the men responsible. None of them had known the true extent of Hilary Reed's plans.

A troop of United States cavalry as well as some Texas Rangers arrived in Wine Creek within the week. By that time, the agents and the Richmond family were ready to head east A telegraph message summoned the Wanderer to Wine Creek. Liam O'Donnell accompanied them to Kansas City, where he boarded another train that would carry him to Pinkerton headquarters in Chicago.

Caroline Richmond made it clear to Liam that she held no grudge against him. "Hilary was mad. I know he would have eventually killed my husband and son, when he was finished with them, as well as Jim. To me he died in 1864. I will not mourn him now."

And she did not. Upon their return to Washington, Caroline set about completing the plans for the fete to celebrate twenty-five years of marriage. Of course James West and Artemus Gordon were invited, as well as Liam O'Donnell. Marian and Elizabeth were home from their summer excursions. Elizabeth had been reluctant to leave Vermont and the lad she had met there, until she was informed that Jim West would be in attendance. At sixteen, Elizabeth harbored many dreams.

One thing Artemus noticed at the party was how his partner spent time with Liam O'Donnell, and appeared to be at ease with Cinnia's cousin. Artie knew that Jim and Liam had talked during the trip from Texas to Kansas City, and he had overheard Jim telling the Pinkerton man that next time the Wanderer traversed through Iowa he would make a point to stop for a visit with Cinnia's father and brothers.

An unexpected consequence, Artemus decided. Some strange quirk of fate had caused the detective that Caroline Richmond hired to be the only one with a connection of sorts to the two agents. Perhaps Jim can finally start laying the ghosts to rest.

EPILOG

Go thou, deceased, to this earth which is a mother, and spacious and kind. May her touch be soft like that of wool, or a young woman, and may she protect thee from the depths of destruction. Rise above him, O Earth, do not press painfully on him, give him good things, give him consolation, as a mother covers her child with her cloth, cover thou him.
— Vedic Funeral Rite, quoted in the "New York Times" on the death of Buffalo Bill (1917)

James West pushed open the gate then closed it securely behind him, taking a moment to ensure it was latched. He knew he was stalling. He had been thinking about this moment for the past nearly two months after he had made the mistake of telling Artemus he would like to stop the next time they were in the farm country of Iowa to visit the O'Donnells. Because of that, Artemus had been the one to instruct the train crew to halt the train on a siding nearest that farm.

Last night they had arrived at the O'Donnell home, and had been welcomed warmly. This morning, in a light, misting rain, he had ridden to the small church in the nearby town. The cemetery was in the fenced area adjoining the church. Now he was here. Artie might be right, he realized.

When they had retired to the room they were to share for the night, Jim had started to disrobe, then sat silently on the edge of the bed, not realizing what he was doing, his thoughts long ago and far away. Finally, Artemus had spoken to break his reverie.

"Jim," his partner said gently, "do you suppose that the reason you have been avoiding coming here, visiting the grave, because you know it would make it real?"

For a moment, Jim had not understood. But he comprehended then, as now. She had died in his arms. He had attended the funeral, heard the minister's words, and watched the casket lowered into the gaping earth. He had not, however, viewed the stone with the name and date on it that was put in place later. Somehow everything that went before seemed almost like a dream, a bad dream. Seeing that gravestone bearing her name, however…

He swallowed hard then started walking along the path that divided the cemetery. He knew where the O'Donnell family plot was. Some of the markers were very old, their etched writing started to fade in the years of weather, a few tipping slightly. But the one he sought was still standing straight, the words very plain to see. "Cinnia Margaret O'Donnell, beloved daughter…"

Again Jim swallowed, feeling the sting in his eyes. Beloved… He had not been certain of his feelings until it was too late. She was gone. Forever gone.

"Hey."

He had believed he was alone, and the voice, soft as it was, startled him. Jim jerked his head up, looking around, seeing nothing at first.

"You finally came."

He saw her then, standing by the nearby iron fence. She was wearing the denim trousers and plaid shirt he remembered so well, the shapely legs spread slightly apart, her arms folded on her bosom.

"I'm sorry…"

The laugh he had come to know and adore in such a short time seemed to peal inside his head. "Oh, Jim. I know. I knew you so well almost from the beginning. It's all right. You came. That's all that matters."

"I miss you…"

"Yes. All the things that might have been. Remember what I told you, dearest? You're alive. You'll go on… that's what matters. You understand that, don't you?"

"I've tried."

"Yes. You won't forget me. I know that. But you have a long life ahead of you, Jim."

"Do I? Sometimes I wonder…"

Again the marvelous laugh. "I'm probably letting the cat out of the bag! I'll be with you always, my Jim, in a little corner of your heart. Just think of me, and I'll be there. But don't stop enjoying life, Jim. You have always savored life. Perhaps because you've been so close to the other side so many times. One day we'll be together again. You believe that, don't you?"

"I… try…"

"I have to go now. But don't forget, I'm always with you. Always."

"Cinnia!" He called her name loudly, but knew he was alone. Or had he always been alone? Had he really seen her shimmering form so near, yet so far?

With a sigh, he dropped to one knee alongside the stone, putting one hand on it. Was it his imagination that the granite felt warm even in this chilly mist? In fact, the air all around him seemed softly warmer than the drizzly morning would warrant.

W*W*W*W*W

Artemus Gordon was sitting on the porch of the farmhouse, holding a steaming cup of coffee, when he saw his partner's form on the shining black horse appear over the slight hill that the farm's lane crossed. The rain had let up, sunlight was beginning to appear among parting clouds. He himself had ridden back a lot faster, determined that Jim would not know he had been followed. Artie had already asked Mr. O'Donnell and his sons to not reveal to Jim that he had gone out after him.

He had not entirely comprehended his own reasoning, why he had felt it necessary to follow him. It was not as if he expected Dr. Loveless or some other outlaw to appear out of nowhere to menace Jim. He only knew he had to do it, and in the end was glad he had; however, he still did not understand what he had witnessed.

He had not been surprised that Jim hesitated at the gate a long moment before walking through the graveyard to find the O'Donnell family plot. The surprise had come after Jim reached the grave. From his vantage point, using a spyglass, Artie had witnessed his partner talking… to someone.

Jim dismounted outside the picket fence, pushed through the gate and strolled toward the porch. "There's coffee inside," Artemus said.

Jim just nodded then sat down on a nearby bench. He pulled off his hat, shook the dampness off it then held it. He was damp all over from the morning moisture. Artie studied him. He looks… more relaxed.

"I'm glad I came," Jim said then, his voice very soft.

"Good." Artie waited, but Jim said no more, staring at the floor of the porch, a very slight smile on his lips. Artie did not push. He knew his partner. When Jim wanted to talk about it, if ever, he would. He knew that he himself was burning with curiosity. Had Jim seen it too? Was that who… what he was talking to? That… that… Artemus could not come up with a word to describe what he had glimpsed. A soft glow. On a morning that had been completely dreary, he had seen the softest glow of light, first near the fence, in the direction Jim appeared to be talking. Then when Jim had knelt, the glow seemed to settle momentarily over his shoulders before slowly vanishing.

Jim looked up then. "Maybe we can stay an extra day. I think I'd like to help Mr. O'Donnell and the boys fix that broken fence."

Artie smiled. "Sounds like fun to me."

THE END

But when the sun in all his state,

Illumed the eastern skies,

She passed through glory's morning gate,

And walked in Paradise.
— A Death Bed, Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1907), American poet & novelist