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The Night of the Ambitious Arsonist
A Wild Wild West story
By Deana

Takes place immediately after 'The Night of the Watery Death'.
The scene at the end where Artie had a cold was so funny; I just had to continue it!

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Jim West opened the door to the train and strolled in, after a wonderful night on the town. It was eleven o'clock, and he could think of nothing but the beautiful blue eyes of his blond-haired date. Still smiling, he was so engrossed in his thoughts that he was startled when he heard coughing coming from Artie's compartment as he passed it. Having completely forgotten that his friend had caught a cold, he backtracked and opened the door.

Artemus was sitting up in his bed, blowing his nose.

Jim stared, smiling at Artie's mussed-up hair. "Hey," he said. "How you feeling?"

Artie started to put his handkerchief down beside himself on the bed, before he made a face and threw it towards the trash bin in the far corner without looking. It landed right in. "I'm all right Jim, it's just a cold."

Jim's smile turned into a frown as he noticed that Artie's face looked flushed. He strode over to the bed and reached out his hand to feel his forehead, but Artie held up an arm to stop him.

"What're you doing?" Artie said, trying to play dumb.

Jim reached out again, and this time, when Artie tried to block it, Jim grabbed his wrist with his other hand and pushed it down, grabbing Artie's other wrist at the same time and holding them tightly with one hand.

Artie sighed, realizing that he was found out.

Jim felt the heat radiating from Artie's forehead. "You have a fever. Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have gone out if I knew."

"Which is why I didn't," said Artie, pulling his wrists free from his friend's grip. "I'm a grown man, Jim, I've been sick before, you know. Did you have a good time?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

Jim sighed, feeling guilty. "Yeah, I did."

Artie smiled. "Good." He shifted to lie down. "I'm going to sleep. G'night, Jim."

Jim knew that he was being dismissed…Artie didn't want him to worry. "Do you need anything?"

Artie shook his head, eyes closed. "Just a good night's sleep. I'll be fine in the morning."

Jim doubted that. "I'll be up for a while, if you need something."

"Thanks, Jim, but I'm fine. Goodnight."

"'Night, Artie." He watched his friend for a few seconds before leaving. Going into his own compartment, he changed his clothes and started to head into the main room before changing his mind, unsure if he would hear Artie from there should his friend need anything. Instead, he went back to Artie's door and opened it, poking his head in and seeing that his friend was already asleep. He left Artie's door ajar, as well as his own, before getting into his bed, where he laid awake for a while, troubled. Artie had seemed perfectly fine all day…showing no indication that he was feeling unwell. Jim hoped that his friend would get over his illness as fast as he'd come down with it.

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In the middle of the night, Jim suddenly woke, and lay there wondering why. It took a few seconds for him to remember that Artie was sick, and he quickly got out of bed, wanting to check his fever. As he left his compartment, he heard a soft cough come from behind the next door, and he quietly pushed it open further. "Artie?" he whispered.

"Sorry, Jim," he heard. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Jim came further into the room and lit the lamp low. "You didn't, I was already awake. How do you feel?"

"I told you I'm all right," Artie said. "There's no reason to worry."

Jim felt his friend's forehead again, and found it unchanged. "Your fever hasn't risen, at least."

Artie coughed again, pulling the covers over his head. When he moved them back down, he smiled at his friend's puzzled look. "I don't want you to catch it. You shouldn't even come in here."

"I never catch anything," Jim told him. "I'll get you some water." He left the room and went into the galley, filling a pitcher and grabbing a glass. He filled it and brought it into his friend's room, handing him the glass and setting the pitcher on the nightstand.

Artie half-sat up and drank it gratefully. "Thanks."

"No problem, pal. If you need anything, call me," Jim said.

"Stop worrying. It's just a cold."

Jim said nothing, knowing that if a fever was involved, it was probably influenza, which could get bad. "Go to sleep. You never know when Richmond will send us another case."

Artie sighed at that, which made him cough. "G'night, again."

"G'night."

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When Jim woke in the morning, the first thing he did was peek into Artie's room. He found his friend sleeping deeply, with the covers flung off the upper half of his body. Jim tip-toed into the room and very gently placed his hand on his friend's forehead, careful not to wake him. He found, to his relief, that there was barely any fever at all, and he quietly crept back out. Maybe Artie had gotten lucky, and would escape with just a quick, mild case.

He went into the galley and made coffee, before suddenly hearing a familiar sound. He took the pot with him and went into the main room, finding the telegraph signaling an incoming message. He answered the signal and picked up a piece of paper and a pencil, writing it down. Once the message finished, he tapped an acknowledgement and read it again with a sigh.

"What's it say? I didn't catch most of that."

Jim turned to see that Artie was standing just inside the room, leaning against the wall of the hallway. "The Parker Gang was spotted just over the Nevada border…the arsonists. We're ordered to investigate. I'll tell them to send someone else."

Artie frowned. "Why?" He then had a coughing fit, sticking his head inside his robe.

Jim blinked, thinking the answer obvious. "That's why. You're sick, Artie."

"It's just a cold," he answered, his voice sounding hoarse as he sat at the table.

"That's the third time you've said that since last night," said Jim. "How are we supposed to blend in and not be noticed with you walking around coughing like that?" Jim asked. "You'll stick out like a sore thumb."

Artie thought for a minute. "I'll pretend to be a victim of consumption. The best way to be inconspicuous is to be conspicuous! Like hiding out in the open. No one would expect it. You can pretend to be my doctor."

"Consumption?" said Jim. "You'd expect people to believe that?" he said, gesturing.

Artie looked down at himself. "What?"

"Victims of consumption look like they're wasting away. You don't fit that bill."

Artie made a face. "Why, thank you…I think. I'll just wear clothes that are too big, it'll give the illusion of losing weight."

"Do you have any clothes that are too big?"

Artie looked at him. The twinkle that was usually in his eyes was dulled by fatigue. "Well, you're in rare form."

"I try. But really, Artie, you can't possibly be up to this…you had a fever last night."

"We can't turn down an assignment, Jim," Artie said, before coughing again. "Besides, we're not far from the border; we could reach the town by this afternoon. It won't make sense to send anyone else."

"Circumstances that are out of our control isn't turning them down," Jim argued. His face suddenly brightened. "I know, I'll tell them that we're having engine trouble with the train—"

"Jim," Artie said. "There are a number of ways that Richmond could verify the truth—or lie—in that statement. We have a new assignment, and that's that. I'll be fine. The consumption angle will work…everyone will ignore us."

Jim sighed, hoping that Artie was right.

TBC

Hey everyone…I started writing this story months ago, but then I ended up writing others that I kept up with and posted instead. The other night, I realized that I didn't have a story ready to post; I only have the first two chapters of this one written, and a later chapter that I wrote ahead of time. I wasn't going to start posting until I had more, but I know that you're all expecting a post from me today, so here it is! I'll try to write as fast as possible, but take this as a warning that you might have to wait longer than usual for new chapters!