The Night of Confusion

Chapter 1

As the crew prepared the Wanderer for its next journey, Artemus Gordon collapsed onto the couch with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Another job well done," he said to his companion, "and without any problems for once." He was referring to the delivery of a notorious counterfeiter to the Ohio Penitentiary.

"James, my boy, this calls for a celebration," he continued, uncorking the bottle of champagne that stood on the table next to him. "To our next assignment," he said, "and the safe transport of the Collingwood rubies; a mere walk in the park."

James West, currently absorbed in a solo game of billiards, looked up and accepted the glass that was handed to him.

"I'm looking forward to seeing Simon Collingwood again but, you know what, Artie? It makes me just a little nervous when things go this smoothly. Makes me wonder what's waiting around the corner. Remember that time...?"

He was interrupted by a short sharp knock on the door followed by the appearance of Colonel Richmond, who had a harried look on his face. As both men rose to greet him, they realised there was something worrying him.

"Sir," they both said.

"What brings you here?" James asked.

"I've been visiting the Governor," Richmond explained. "A communication just reached me saying that agents Wilson and Harris haven't reported in for three days. They were investigating the disappearance of ranch hands outside Remembrance, West Virginia and I want you to go there straight away and find out what happened to them. Your next assignment can wait."

"What were Harris and Wilson doing there? It sounds like a job for the local sheriff, Sir" Gordon pointed out.

"The order came from the President. We need to find out who's behind the disappearances because they have the potential to disrupt beef supplies, especially to the army."

"Had they discovered anything?" West wanted to know.

"The only report we had was that they had arrived in Remembrance and were heading out to the Circle R ranch. I'm really worried about them."

"We understand, Colonel, you can rely on us," James told him.

"Good, well I must be going. I don't want to hold you up."

Gordon saw the Colonel out and then turned to West.

"Looks like we're not going to Charles Town just yet," he said, confirming what his companion had already worked out.

Once their train reached the outskirts of Remembrance the agents split up, with Gordon going on ahead in a familiar role, one of many called 'old-timer' by West. So it was that, when a gang of hungry cow-pokes arrived at the chuck wagon for their supper, Gordon was in place, doling out the food.

"Come on, fellas!" he said, "come and taste the best grub known to man. From a recipe told me by my great aunt Maude. Boy could she cook!" he added, with a senile chuckle.

As he spoke, he began to dish out bean stew onto the plates, and biscuits with thick, tasty gravy. There was silence while the men ate but, once they'd taken the edge off their hunger, it was easy for Gordon to strike up conversations with them and find out everything they knew about the disappearance of their fellow ranch hands. Now he had to catch up with James West.

West had been visiting establishments in town, trying to trace the steps of Wilson and Harris. It seemed that the pair had been asking questions but no-one had been able to help them with their enquiries. They had ridden out of town and everyone assumed they were returning to Washington. West was considering signing on at the Circle R himself, to get closer to the problem, when he was accosted by an elderly man who had seen better days.

"Got a dime to spare, sonny?"

"Fallen on bad luck, old-timer?" West asked.

"I may be old but I'm not senile," he said. "Got some information for you, Jim," he added, out of the corner of his mouth. "Those ranch hands went missing after visiting the town. They were seen leaving but never arrived back at the ranch."

"That's more or less what happened to the missing agents," West said.

"Aw, that's mighty handsome of you to offer me a whole dollar," Gordon said, in case anyone was listening.

West put his hand in his pocket, withdrew a coin and tossed it to his friend. It was a nickel. Gordon placed it between his teeth and bit down hard to test its authenticity.

"A house a mile outside of Remembrance was rented out about two months ago," he said. "It's between here and the ranch. Could be significant"

"I'll check it out."

"Mighty kind of you, mister," Gordon said, walking off down the street.

West was about a quarter of a mile outside town when he caught up with a young woman, trying to steady a horse that was obviously far too lively for her to control.

"Would you like some help, Ma'am?" he asked, riding alongside her mount, close enough to grab the reins if necessary.

"Blast you, Hercules!" she said in a most unladylike fashion, digging her heels into the horse's flanks.

Hercules, if that was indeed the horse's name, reared up on his hind legs and looked in danger of unseating her. West jumped down and took hold of the bridle, forcing the horse's head down. He calmly stroked its long nose until it settled. The woman leaned down. Seeing her up close, West put her age at around thirty. She was a striking blonde.

"I can't thank you enough, Sir," she said.

"Think nothing of it, Ma'am."

"It's 'Miss'," she said, raising his spirits. "I can't imagine what's gotten into Hercules this morning. He's usually quite cooperative and I can assure you that I am a far better horsewoman that this incident would indicate."

"Yes, I can see that you have an impressive seat," he said, with a charming smile.

She smiled back. "I'm Amelia Shawcross," she said, extending her hand.

"James West," he replied, using her hand to pull her toward him. He essayed a brief kiss on her lips and, feeling them become pliant, deepened it and then drew back.

"I hope you don't mind me claiming a small reward for my efforts?" he smiled.

'It seems such meagre recompense. Please accept an invitation to take luncheon with my brother and me. Our house is not far from here."

Believing that she was probably referring to the very house he wished to investigate, West said, "I can think of nothing I would like more."

The house was built of stone with a portico surrounding a large front door. Once inside, West was struck by the formality of the dark furniture. It was so unlike the fresh appearance of the woman by his side. A heavy wooden door to his left opened and he turned to see a man, in his early forties, walk toward them. Unlike his sister, he was dark in appearance with hazel eyes and a full moustache.

"Mr West, this is my brother Clifton," she said. "Clifton, this is Mr West. He's just saved me from a very nasty tumble from my horse. I've invited him to lunch with us."

"I'm very grateful, Mr West, welcome to our home," Clifton Shawcross said, shaking his hand. "I've often thought that Hercules is far too big for Amelia to ride but, I must admit, she's proved herself quite a capable horsewoman until now."

"So she informs me," West replied.

"Please show Mr West where he can freshen up, my dear, and then escort him to the dining room!"

"This way, Mr West," Amelia said.

"Please call me James," he replied as he was led away.

"What brings you to these parts, Mr West?" Shawcross asked, once luncheon was over and cigars were lit.

"I'm hoping to find work as a ranch hand. I understand there are some vacancies locally."

"Ah yes, caused by the disappearance of those unfortunate young men hereabouts. I've told Amelia to be careful when she's out riding."

"Have you seen anything suspicious, Mr Shawcross?"

"No, I can't say I have, but then I seldom leave the house."

"Have you lived here long?"

"No, we moved here from Baltimore about a couple of months ago. My doctor suggested that the drier climate would be good for my health. Thankfully, Amelia was happy to accompany me. I don't know what I'd do without her." He smiled and held out his hand. She went to his side and kissed him on the cheek.

"You know I would never leave you," she said.

On the surface the two were devoted siblings, innocent of any wrongdoing. He would return later, uninvited, just to make sure. There was nothing more he could do at the moment. "Well, thank you very much for lunch, but I'd better be on my way," he said.

Amelia leaned over and laid her hand on his arm.

"Oh, but you can't go just yet, I haven't had a chance to show you my collection of musical boxes. Please, it won't take long and I don't get to share them with anyone way out here." She threw him one of her beautiful smiles and he gave in.

"I don't see why not," he said, following her from the room. It was a chance to get a better idea of the layout of the house and maybe steal another kiss.

They came to a small door, half hidden by a heavy brocade curtain.

"I keep them in here," she said, opening the door onto a pretty little room, furnished in a more modern style, with dainty veneered tables. Each one held a handful of musical boxes.

"This is my favourite," she said, picking up a small box, inlaid with mother of pearl. "It plays the most delightful tune."

She handed the box to West. He opened the lid and was hit by a billowing spray of green mist. He wasn't quick enough to avoid inhaling it and was aware that Amelia had fled the room just as he passed out.

A few hours later, West lifted his head dizzily from the pillow on which it had been residing and then promptly dropped it back down again. You'd think, after all the times it had happened to him, he could handle knock-out gas by now but he could swear his head felt worse each time it happened.

"Ah, James," a feminine voice said, "you're back." The voice belonged to Amelia Shawcross.

"I'm sorry I had to go away," he replied.

"I regret we've had to restrain you," she said, "but I'm sure you realise that we can't run the risk of you getting away."

West was well aware of the wide leather straps, fastened across his chest and lower legs, anchoring him to the narrow bed. He had already tested the restraints and found them impossible to break.

"I do wish that the circumstances of our meeting could have been different," Amelia said, moving closer. "But Clifton wants you for reasons of his own and I wouldn't dare to interfere," she continued, gently tracing the outline of his finely-honed jaw with one finger. She then touched his lips and, as he responded by opening his mouth slightly, she dipped down and placed her mouth on his, ever so softly, slowly deepening the kiss, as he allowed her to.

"My, oh my," she said, stepping back, "you could easily go to my head."

West smiled at her lazily. "And a very pretty head it is too." Experience had proved that it never hurt to woo the opposition. His success with Marie Pincher came to mind.

"I have to leave you now," she said, regret in her voice.

"I'll miss you," he replied.

"Oh, you won't be alone. One of Clifton's men is stationed right outside the door."

"Thank you for warning me."

"Good-bye, James," she said, gliding from the room, as only women know how.

While Amelia had been dallying with him, West had been sizing up the situation. With a little difficulty, he managed to operate the mechanism up his sleeve for what would normally be a wrist gun but which had been modified to dispense a phial of fine crystals. These acted as a corrosive when mixed with air. He was glad that Gordon had persuaded him to make the switch between his usual gun and this new invention.

West opened the phial with one hand and shook a small amount of the crystals onto the leather strap around his chest. As they ate through the leather he expanded his upper torso so that the belt snapped before the crystals reached his clothing and, inevitably, his sensitive flesh. Once he had disposed of the chest strap it was only seconds before he had freed his feet and risen from the bed.

West ran to the window and looked out. There was a guard outside, as well as the one at the door. Nevertheless, as he had heard the door being locked earlier, and the light outside was already fading, he decided his best option was the window. With his usual decisiveness and lack of any real forethought, he leapt through the window, raising his arms over his head and face, to avoid the breaking glass. He landed on top of the guard, disarming him in the process, as his rifle flew from his grasp. West was now in his element and a short bout of fisticuffs saw the guard laid out cold.

West could see his horse tethered a short distance away. He checked that no-one was about and then made for the animal. He grabbed the reins and was about to ride away when something hit him in the back. There was a searing, burning sensation and he was jolted from the saddle. He staggered for a few feet and then fell to the dirt like a sack of animal feed.