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THE NIGHT OF THE SINISTER SNARE
By Deana

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Artemus Gordon tapped an acknowledgement on the telegraph key, before standing and crossing to James West, who was sitting on the nearby couch. "Did you catch that?" Artie asked.

Jim nodded. "Strange message."

Artie read it aloud. "Please proceed to Kansas City, Missouri, and identify a prisoner at the local jail." He shook his head. "I asked for more information, but Richmond has not a single clue of who it is, what crime they committed, or why. All he knows is that the town sheriff sent Washington this urgent request."

Jim shrugged. "At least we're not far from there…we should reach it tomorrow."

Artie nodded, tapping the paper against his face. "I wonder who it is…it must be someone that we know, if they want us to identify them."

"I wonder why their identity is so much in question," said Jim.

Artie shrugged and sat down. "There's no sense in driving ourselves insane trying to figure out who it is; we'd probably be wrong. It could be anyone."

The two agents each tried to figure it out anyway, even as they walked into the sheriff's office the next day.

"You two West and Gordon?" the sheriff asked, before they could open their mouths.

"That's right," said Jim. "Can we see the prisoner?"

"Right this way," the sheriff said, getting up from his chair and heading through a door.

Jim and Artie followed, coming to a cell where the prisoner was sprawled sitting up on the cot. When the man saw them, he sighed with relief. "Thank God," he remarked.

Artie's jaw dropped and he looked at the sheriff. "Open this cell right now!"

The sheriff looked at him, indignantly. "And why should I do that?"

"Because this is Bat Masterson! Are you blind?" Artie exclaimed, taking the keys from him and opening the cell himself. He and Jim entered and headed over.

"Bat," said Artemus, sitting on the cot. "Are you all right?" Seeing manacles on Bat's wrists, he searched for the key that would unlock them.

Bat gave a lopsided smile and held up his arms so that Artie could remove the manacles. "I will be once I get out of here."

Artie shook his head as he tried one of the keys. Bat looked like he'd been run over by a stagecoach; his usually impeccable suit was dirty, and he had bruises on his face and a cut near his eye.

"What happened to you?" Jim asked him, just as shocked as Artie.

Bat sighed as the manacles opened, and he rubbed his wrists. "I'd been hired to come here to find a kidnapped woman. The night before last, I was suddenly surrounded by a gang of men who beat the daylights out of me. When I fought back, I was shot," he said, pointing to his left leg. "They knocked me unconscious, and when I woke, I found the man who'd hired me lying nearby, dead. Now I'm here, accused of his murder." He shot an annoyed look at the sheriff. "And no one believed who I was, hence your presence here now."

Artie dropped the manacles onto the floor and shifted, to take a look at Bat's leg. His face dawned with shock when he saw the makeshift bandage, and he started to untie it, giving an accusing look at the sheriff. "You didn't have a doctor look at this?! Is the bullet still in there?" He knew that if it was, then Bat's blood was already being poisoned by the lead.

"The bullet went all the way through," said Bat. "By the time they threw me in here, it wasn't bleeding much anymore. I guess they decided that a prisoner due to hang for murder wasn't worth paying a doctor for."

Artie looked at the wound, to see that Bat was right. He tied the cloth back around it, before gently sweeping Bat's legs off the cot, and taking him under one arm. "Let's go," he said, pulling him to his feet.

"Now, wait a minute!" the sheriff exclaimed. "You're not taking my prisoner anywhere! I don't care if he's Bat Masterson or not, he's charged with murder!"

Bat stood slowly, his entire body stiff and aching. He sighed at the sheriff.

Jim took Bat's other arm. "Can't you recognize a setup when you hear one?" he said to the sheriff. "This man is no more guilty of murder than you are. We will take full responsibility for him."

The sheriff took out his gun and pointed it at them. "I'm the sheriff here, not you."

Jim pulled out his own gun. "We're the Federal Agents here, not you."

The sheriff stared at him for a minute, before re-holstering his gun with a sigh.

Carefully, Jim and Artie helped Bat limp out of the cell.

The first thing that Bat noticed as they neared the sheriff's desk was his walking stick leaning against the wall. Apparently, the sheriff was so sure that he would hang, that he was keeping it for himself.

Artie saw it, and grabbed it.

"His gun and wallet, please?" Jim said to the sheriff.

Angrily, the sheriff opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took them out, handing them over to Jim. "But who killed the man, then?" he exclaimed.

"That," said Jim, as they helped Bat towards the door. "Is what we're going to find out."

They left the building, and stood outside for a minute.

"You have a room at the hotel?" Artemus asked.

Bat nodded.

"The town doctor should take a look at you," said Jim.

"But the hotel is closer," said Artie, pointing. "We should bring the doctor to him."

Jim nodded. "Take him inside, I'll get the doctor." With that, he walked off.

Artie handed Bat his walking stick, which definitely came in handy right now. "Do you have any idea who would've framed you?" he asked, helping Bat cross the street.

Bat shook his head. "I've made a lot of enemies in my lines of work," he said. "I couldn't even begin to speculate. Could be an angry gambler…someone I arrested…a business competitor…the list goes on and on."

Artie nodded. "I know the feeling."

A minute later, they entered the hotel, and the clerk looked surprised to see Bat apparently free, and in the company of Artemus Gordon. The whole town knew what had happened, and he watched as the two men headed over to the staircase.

"One of these days I'm going to build a hotel," Bat said to Artie, as he painfully climbed the first step. "With rooms on the bottom floor."

"That would certainly come in handy for men like us," said Artemus, tightly grasping his arm.

It took a couple of minutes for them to ascend the stairs, and Artie had to support more of Bat's weight the closer they got to his room. Once they finally arrived, Artie took the key from him and opened the door, helping him over to the bed.

Bat exhaled noisily, wincing as he sat down.

Artie sat beside him and started undoing the buttons on Bat's vest. "You were kicked in the ribs?" he asked.

Bat looked at him. "How did you know?"

Artie made a face at him. "How many fights did you and I get into when we were younger, cousin? Rather, how many fights did I have to save you from? I can tell by how you're breathing," Artie said, carefully pulling the jacket and vest off him.

Bat laid down with a wince, and Artie reached over to unbutton his shirt. "I can do it," Bat said, reaching for the buttons.

Artie left him to it and fetched a bowl of water and a towel, getting them ready for the doctor.

"And by the way," said Bat, as he unbuttoned his shirt. "I didn't always need saving from fights…it's not my fault that you thought I needed rescuing just because I was a whole year younger than you…I can remember many situations that were the other way around."

Artie smiled. "Ah, the good old days…"

TBC
Yes, the avatar for this story is a pic of Bat Masterson; he was brilliantly played on TV by Gene Barry.