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The Night of the Political Patsy
A Wild Wild West Story
By Deana

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James West and Artemus Gordon stood together at the door to Senator Orson Blake's library, watching as people entered the room for what was sure to be a long and drawn-out debate to elect (or re-elect) a new senator for the state of Colorado. Many high-ranking officials were in attendance…senators, candidates, judges…and President Grant had requested that Jim and Artie provide security. As dull as it seemed, they would never dream of refusing, and so, there they stood.

Artie turned his head and tried to hide a yawn.

"Practicing for when the speeches begin?" Jim said.

Artie shot him a longsuffering expression. "How did you know?"

Jim chuckled.

Minutes later, the last attendee had arrived, and Jim and Artie entered the room last, heading over to the windows, near where the candidates were seated.

As one of the senators began speaking, Artie saw something out the corner of his eye, and glanced out the window. What he saw made him frown. "Jim," he whispered. "Do you see what I see?"

Jim followed his line of sight, where he spotted a man climbing out of one of the house's windows.

"What on earth…?" said Artie.

"I'll go check it out," Jim told him. "Stay here and keep an eye on things."

Artie nodded, watching as Jim slinked over to the door and left.

Breaking into a run, Jim hurried as fast as he could towards the front door, bolting out it and rushing over to the window, seeing the man land on the ground. "Hey!" he yelled.

Turning at the shout, the man started running.

"Stop!" Jim yelled, pulling out his gun.

The man sped up instead, and Jim raised his gun to fire a shot into the air, but before he could, the sound of a massive blast filled the air. Automatically throwing himself to the ground, Jim looked up in horror to see parts of the house explode…the area where the meeting was being held.

An ice-cold ball of shock and fear filled Jim's chest when he realized that Artie was inside that room. He jumped to his feet and dashed back towards the house.

Reaching the door, he ran in and headed straight for the destroyed library. People were moaning and coughing from the smoke. Survivors—seemingly all injured in one way or another—staggered out of the room, trying desperately to get to safety. Jim passed them all, jumping over debris in order to get back into the room, having only one thought in his mind…whether or not Artemus was alive.

Looking around, he was dismayed to not see his friend helping the injured…which he knew that Artie would be doing if he was able. Rushing towards the windows, where he'd left Artie, he found that the glass had all been shattered, and parts of the wall and ceiling had fallen. "Artie!" he called, knowing that his friend was under it.

Someone yelled for help, and Jim threw himself to his knees, grabbing wood and throwing it in all directions, belatedly hoping that he didn't hit anyone with it.

Suddenly, a woman's hand reached out and Jim grabbed it, pulling her out from the hole that he'd created. He found that two beams had landed in different directions, propping each other up and preventing the people underneath from being crushed. Relief filled him at that, and he crawled in, helping three other people get out before he spotted what he'd feared.

Artie was lying on the floor, not moving. He lay on his stomach facing Jim, eyes closed.

Jim quickly dropped to his knees beside his friend and felt the pulse on his neck, holding his breath until he felt the steady beat. He closed his eyes with relief for a second, before gripping his friend's shoulder and giving it a shake. "Artie?" he called.

Artemus remained motionless.

Jim sighed and began checking his friend for injuries, knowing that it was dangerous to move him otherwise. Chunks of plaster, small pieces of wood, and a lot of glass had showered his friend, and he knew that Artie was likely covered with cuts and bruises. He reached over Artie to check his left arm, and was horrified to discover that a piece of the wall had landed on it, and was literally pinning his friend to the floor. He stepped over Artie to try to lift it off, but the angle was too awkward…someone would need to hold it up while another person pulled Artie away from it.

Dashing back, he stuck his head out from under the beams and yelled, "I need help over here, my friend is trapped!"

A couple of men hurried over and ducked under the beams. Jim crouched next to his friend, ready to pull him away. Suddenly, he heard a soft groan and looked down to see a wince on Artie's face. "Don't move, Artie," he said.

But the wince deepened, and Artie shifted, with a gasp.

Jim placed his hand on Artie's back to keep him flat. "Don't move," he repeated.

At the contact, Artie's body jerked as if he'd been startled. He opened his eyes, blinking blearily. "Jim?" he mumbled.

"Take it easy," Jim said. "You're trapped; we'll have you out in a minute. Are you all right?"

Artie didn't answer, closing his eyes again, in obvious pain.

Jim looked at the two men, who had figured out how to get Artie free. Together, they lifted the piece of the wall, and Jim took Artie's right wrist and pulled him away, so the men could put their burden back down.

Artie gave a cry of pain, and Jim was afraid to look at his friend's left arm, which he was sure had to be broken, at the very least. He found that it didn't look any different from the outside, thanks to Artie's jacket sleeve, which he was very relieved to not find covered in blood.

Artie was breathing heavily, making no further attempt to move on his own, which was very worrisome to Jim, making him wonder what he'd missed when he'd checked him for injuries.

"There are wagons outside to take the injured to the hospital!" a voice suddenly shouted, as neighbors and passersby came into the house to help.

Jim looked up at the two men who'd helped get Artie free. "We need a stretcher…preferably something hard."

They nodded and dashed off.

Jim looked down at Artie again, tightening the grip on his friend's shoulder.

The two men came back faster than Jim expected, with a long piece of flat wood. They laid it on the floor and Jim carefully rolled his friend onto it, cringing when Artie gave another cry of pain. Jim and one of the men carried the stretcher out of the house and over to a wagon that was nearly full of injured people. Sliding the stretcher in, Jim saw that no one else would be able to fit afterwards, and yelled up to the driver to head out. He jumped in and sat beside his friend, his hand never leaving Artie's shoulder.

Once at the hospital, the doctor didn't let Jim into the room during the examination, and Jim spent the time pacing nervously in the hall. When the door suddenly started to open, Jim burst through and headed over to the bed, but the doctor grabbed his arm before he could get there.

Two nurses were tightly wrapping Artie's left forearm, who lay immobile.

"His arm is broken," the doctor said, unnecessarily. "I built a splint around it, which should remain in place for probably eight weeks."

Jim watched as the nurses finished. The wrapping went from the bend of Artie's elbow all the way down, with only his thumb and fingers visible. The splint included his hand, to prevent Artie from flexing his wrist.

The doctor headed to the left side of the bed and inspected the nurses' work, carefully lifting Artie's arm and ensuring that the wrapping was secure. "He also has some bruised ribs. None are broken, but it isn't out of the question that one or two may be cracked."

Jim stood looking down at Artie, who appeared to be unconscious, his skin very pale. Jim opened his mouth, but the doctor anticipated his question.

"I gave him a sedative before I set his arm," the doctor told him. "He also has a cut on his head, but no concussion. His right knee is badly bruised, but was not dislocated or broken."

Jim finally found his voice. "Will he regain full use of his arm?"

The doctor nodded. "He should."

Jim sighed with relief. He suddenly sensed that there was something else, and looked at the doctor. "Is that it?"

The doctor shook his head. "The explosion affected your friend's hearing."

The bottom dropped out of Jim's stomach. "What?"

"His right eardrum was ruptured, the left one nearly. They'll both heal."

"Can he hear at all?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, when you speak close to his head."

Jim sighed and rubbed a hand across his face, having a hard time digesting it all. "Can we leave when he wakes up, or does he have to stay here?"

"He should stay for a day or two until I can be sure that I didn't miss anything," the doctor said. "It was difficult to communicate with him."

Jim sighed again.

"I need to see more patients," the doctor said. "But I will return."

"Thank you, Doctor," Jim said.

The doctor nodded, and left.

Jim grabbed a chair and pulled it close to the bed, sitting down with a heavy sigh. He was in for a long night.

TBC