"The Night of the Dragon's Fire"

The horses pulling the stagecoach shrieked and reared in terror as flames suddenly erupted across the trail in front of them, tossing the passengers like rag dolls. The driver held the reins tightly trying to control the panic of the beasts, but the bolted.

The man riding shot-gun, former army officer William Prescott was guarding the payroll shipment lashed tightly to the top of the coach. He got off a couple of shots from his repeater rifle, aiming at what looked like of a pair of glowing red eyes. Fire shot out again as the horses wild reaction knocked him off balance, sending him flying off his perch and down to the ground.

He heard thought he heard the flapping of wings in the air as the stagecoach and it's passengers took off into the darkness.

Bill picked himself up, dusting off his clothes and that was when he saw it, a ball of flame erupting in the distance. He ran to it at full speed, until he reached the site, finding what was left of the passengers and driver. Their bodies lay burned and smoking on the ground along with the horses. The stagecoach was unharmed, but the payroll chest was gone.

He heard that flapping sound, looking up he saw a large shadow of a some sort of monster as it passed in front of the moon that hung like a white lantern in the night sky.

.

It was late as James West walked carefully along one of the many mist-covered docks that lined the waters of San Francisco bay, wearing his black hat, dressed in his signature blue bolero jacket and pants. In the distance he could hear the lonesome ringing of a buoy as it rocked in the water.

"bong bong bong" was the only thing heard beside the sound of his boot heels on the wood beneath them.

Then he saw it, the painted image of a red Chinese dragon on a sign above his head, the message directing those aware of it's meaning to the location of a small opium den. He continued down the darkened alley to the entrance, passing through a pair of batwing doors that continued to swing to and fro after he entered.

The room was lined with several large carved teak opium couches, most of them occupied. Beside the men laying in them were ornate wooden trays containing their pipes for smoking, an opium lamp, spare pipe bowls and other implements for partaking in the mind-numbing drug. The couches were thinly veiled by beaded curtains, not that the occupants were aware of their surroundings or who if anyone watched them as the drug had them caught in a haze somewhere between the world of the living and the dead.

The room itself had an eerie glow to it from the multitude of round red paper lanterns that lined the smoke-filled ceiling above.

Spotting his quarry, West headed to the couch on his left, pushing aside several men chattering away in Cantonese obviously trying to chase him off.

"Hòituì_back off!" he ordered them, with one of the few words he knew in the language as he drew his pearl handled colt from it's well oiled holster, aiming it at them without hesitation.

He knocked the opium pipe from the man's hand as he lay on the couch, wrapping his free arm around his waist, pulling him up to his feet.

"Come on Bill, I'm here to get you out." he mumbled into the man's ear.

"Huh...Jim? Jim West what you doin' here?"

"Getting you out of trouble. Now let's go?"

"No don't bother, it's over for me...they all think I'm crazy, that I had something to do with that..." Bill's voice trailed off as the drug pulled him back into it's embrace.

"No you don't." West said, "I believe you and you're coming with me.

The Secret Service agent hauled the man along beside him, as the smaller men in their traditional Chinese robes continued to chatter away like magpies.

West finally got Bill Prescott out into the night air, hoping that would reinvigorate the man as he made his way to a carriage that awaited them on the main street.

A driver sat in the seat of the small buggy, keeping the horses steady. The animals were spooked about something but he wasn't quite sure as it was a seemingly quiet night.

"Artie!" Jim called to his partner as he approached out of the fog.

Artemus Gordon tied the reigns off quickly, hopping down to help lift William Prescott into the passenger seat, as West climbed in after him, pulling the folding top up and locking it into place.

"Let's get him back fast to the hotel," Jim called as Gordon climbed back into the driver's seat, again grabbing hold of the reigns.

"Yah!" Artie called out, snapping the reigns, calling to the pair of horses pulling the four-wheeled conveyance to move out quickly.

Gordon guided the carriage away from the waterfront, through the streets of San Francisco until the reached their destination, the Palace Hotel. Opulent accommodations but ones that suited the guise for James T. West, under cover as a wealthy railroad bank President, traveling across country with his partner Artemus Gordon.

Next door to the hotel was a typical saloon offering by way of entertainment dancing girls, some of whom occasionally suggested being available for somewhat personal services, if known would have been found a distasteful abhorrence to the hotel's up-scale guests.

Scattered thoughout the bar were tables offering other entertainment... Faro, brag, poker, three-card Monte and other games of chance, in another side room were billiard, snooker tables and dartboards, all catering to a changing clientele as the affluence of the city began to grow.

A piano player tickled the ivories as can-can girls suddenly rushed to the stage, performing the dance that was sometimes banned, but not here, not tonight. Whooping and hollering as they flashed their scantly lace pantaloons to the enthusiastic bar patrons.

Jim and Artie entered through the front of the saloon, dragging Bill Prescott between them. In this setting, no one paid attention to the men making it easier as they passed through a side exit leading to the hotel lobby next door, allowing them easy access to the caged elevator.

The slipped into the contraption, taking it up to their private suite on the fourth floor.

Upon entering the room, they laid Bill down on one of the elegant beds, removing his boots, and jacket, loosening his collar.

Artie poured water into a basin, placing a wet towel on the man's forehead as he slowly returned to the conscious world.

Bill Prescott opened is eyes, squinting as he saw, his friend and former army buddy James West sitting on the bed beside him.

"Welcome back." Jim smiled.

"Not sure if I wanted to come back. Why didn't you just leave me there when I asked?"

"Not an option that was given to me. I'm here to help you and I'm not taking no for an answer." West answered. " I know you think you're a laughing stock, and that people think you've lost your mind...but the White House finds it no laughing matter when government payrolls are being stolen and people mysteriously burned to death in the process. Bill you're the only living witness to one of these incidents..."

"Jim, it's something I don't want to believe I saw. I have to be crazy, out of my mind. Maybe the fear was what set my imagination off."

"Bill, you went through hell and back with me during the war, and we saw some pretty bad things. Just tell me what happened, trust me, I will believe you."

Prescott looked at his friend, then at Artemus Gordon. "It was like hellfire had just erupted out of nowhere, flames shot out of the darkness in front of the team pulling the stagecoach. I saw what looked like a pair of glowing red eyes in the darkness and I fired at it with my Winchester and then the horses bucked and bolted and I was thrown off to the ground."

Prescott stopped himself, lowering his head obviously shaken as Gordon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Then there was another explosion of fire in the distance and I ran towards it, that's when I found everyone dead...men, women and children burned to a crisp. It was horrible." His voice trailed again, and this time Jim handed him a shot of bourbon, which the man downed instantly.

"The stage wasn't touched at all, and the payroll trunk was gone, and that's when I looked up and saw it up in the sky, flying like a huge snake with flapping wings in front of the moon. It belched out fire then disappeared into the night sky."

"What did it look like to you Bill?"

"A monster, a giant snake of a monster." He poured himself another shot from the bottle," Reminded me of those dragon dancers things you see snaking through the streets in one of those dang festivals you see in Chinatown. Now do you understan why people are calling me crazy Jim...me seeing a dragon?"

James West and Artemus Gordon simply flashed each other a wary look.