THE NIGHT OF FINDING JOY
By Diddlepie 3/2013
Author's note: I want to thank both Wild Wild Whovian and California Gal for inspiring this story: WWW for the plot, and CG for the style and both for their generous encouragement.
No infringement of intellectual property rights are intended. This story is only for reader enjoyment. No profit will be made. All original characters are mine and other writers: please don't mess with them.
CHAPTER ONE
Joy: the emotion of great delight or happiness caused by something exceptionally good or satisfying
It was a quiet day. An uncharacteristic one for sure but Artemus Gordon was enjoying it. He played in the galley with some creative cooking, taking his time and enjoying each methodical step as he hummed the common bar room songs of the day. Sometimes he break into Edgardo, the grief-stricken lover from the opera Lucia di Lammermoor and his baritone voice would rise above the clanging of pans, and chopping of knives. He would grasp his chest in the last swells of Edgardo's death song as he expressively sang with his last breath… in perfect Italian. Then he'd bow deeply to the compact train kitchen that was his most attentive audience, thanking all the dishes, flatware, pots and pans for their most appreciative and silent applause.
The smells that emanated from the galley spread deliciously throughout the idle train. He knew for as much as he was enjoying this down time, Jim would eventually get bored. As it was he was in the stable car working out with punching bags, and bales of hay as his pretend bad guys. In between his own singing he would occasionally hear grunts and intermittent crashes as some inanimate object lost its battle with Jim West. Poor horses, he thought to himself, although Black Jack probably liked the show.
A telegram had come through earlier in the day saying an important personal letter would be arriving by courier that afternoon. It was highly unusual for the telegraph to be used for any communication other than official government business, so they were both extremely curious to know what the letter was about.
The telegram didn't say who it was for but simply that one of them had to be available to sign for it when it arrived. They were in between assignments on a well deserved break. Unfortunately it was not a very interesting place to have time off. No theater, no good restaurants and a dire shortage of attractive available young women. There was, however, an abundance of jack rabbits, grass, and as much wide open space as one would expect with the train stopped between two towns, essentially in the middle of nowhere.
But they'd both settled in to a complacent routine and the fact was it wasn't so bad. He'd also caught up on several scientific papers he'd wanted to read as well as new recipes, and they'd both even taken to an occasional nap.
The courier finally arrived late afternoon. He'd carried the letter personally from Indianapolis, Indiana switching horses at local towns much like a pony express rider. He was a slight young man, light and easy on a horse's back, but strong and wiry. His dusty and sweat stained clothes said he'd ridden hard and fast resting only when it was too dark to ride. Jim saw him ride up and greeted him at the door wearing only a towel around his neck and the loose black pants he used for training. Through the road dust and a mop of sun streaked brown hair, the rider handed over the letter, looking at the bare foot man suspiciously. "You Artemus Gordon?"
"No, I'm his partner, James West. The telegram said either of us could sign for it."
"That's for sure mister, but if Mr Gordon is here, I'd like to at least see the man considering how long I've been riding just to drop off this here letter."
"Sure," Jim replied and called to his friend who emerged from the galley, dusted from head to foot in flour making him look a good deal older with a pale completion and white dappled hair. The young courier quickly sized him up as some old gizzer who probably wasn't going to make it through the day. No wonder the letter needed to be delivered so timely, the old man was probably going to keel over dead ten minutes after he left. He accepted a fat tip from Jim, and with few words spoken, said he was off to the closest town for a good meal, a hot bath, and a decent night's sleep.
The letter was addressed to: Mr Artemus Gordon, Agent of the Secret Service, Wanderer Train- Somewhere between St Louis and Louisville. Artemus studied the envelope. He held it up to the parlor car window examining the paper quality, and the bold cursive handwriting that gave the address.
"I bet you just inherited a million dollars from some rich uncle you never met" Jim said, joking.
"Either that or I owe some poor uncle who I never met a million dollars," Artemus shot back with a chuckle.
Truth be told, he was anxious to know what could be so important that it was delivered with such haste. The paper was a heavy expensive grade and it was sealed with wax at the bottom and both sides. He opened the multiple pages with a grin, Jim hanging over his shoulder.
"Oh," he groaned as he walked a few steps his expression changing to dismay. "A dear friend from college, Amanda Leslie, has passed away."
Jim placed a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder, but knew there was more to this than just a report of a friend's passing. A letter simply reporting a death of a friend would never be delivered so expediently. Artemus continued reading. His eyes suddenly widened and he gasped, "What? No! It can't be! I would have known!"
Jim quickly moved around the couch so he was standing in front. "Artie, what is it?" alarm creeping into his voice. He grasped both ends of the towel still around his neck subconsciously, as his body tensed.
He continued reading, completely absorbed in the pages. His face was pained and he frequently ran his hands through his now rumpled hair until at one point he just held it there, anchored by a substantial handful of floured dark waves.
"Artie, what is it?" Jim was definitely alarmed now.
His partner silently handed him the letter, and walked in a daze to the back of the car. He stood looking out the frosted window, one arm anchored against the door frame as he leaned heavily on it.
Jim glanced to make sure he was not going out the door. Whatever the letter said, it was enough for him to be deeply concerned for his partner's welfare.
He focused on the letter in his hand.
My Dearest Artemus,
I know my letter finds you well as my uncle, Judge Amos Wilson would not have sent it if you were incapacitated. Unfortunately for me, the same can not be said. If you're reading this, it means our good Lord has called me back to his fold. Please do not pity me or mourn for me as it is not for us to know why the Lord chooses who he does, only to know that we are here for his bidding.
I think of you more frequently than you can imagine with only love and best wishes for you. The biggest mistake of my life was when I said 'no' to you. But understand I did it because of my unending love for you. You were ready to move into a life of bright lights, stage, adoring audiences and I was not ready to share you, or live the life of a nomad moving from one city to another as you traveled with a production.
I didn't want to be the one to stop you from a career you dreamed of and one I knew you would be successful beyond your own imagination. And I have been proven correct in my prediction as now you are trusted and entrusted to protect the most important man in our good and blessed country, President Ulysses Grant. You have the gift for what you do, Artemus, and I love you for your courage and your passion.
But now that I have gone, there is one secret I've kept from you, only to protect you both, but given my passing and Howard's death two years ago, it is important that you know.
We spent the most magical time our last year together. You made me laugh when I wanted to cry and you gave me strength when I wanted to walk away. Our passions ran high and we shared more than just words and thoughts. The feel of you next to me is a cherished memory. And in our love we created another, our daughter, Joy.
You have all the right in the world to be angry with me for not telling you. I knew when you proposed to me that I was with child but choose for the reasons I've given you in this letter not to tell you. Please forgive me for my deception.
We both went our ways that summer. I believe I broke your heart, but not as much as I'd broken my own. I hid away until Joy was born, and then my uncle, Judge Wilson, made up false adoption papers so I could say Joy was my cousin's child whom I adopted when my dear cousin and her husband were tragically killed in a fire.
I met Howard shortly after and he accepted Joy as his own with no conditions. He never knew the real truth, nor does Joy. Although we tried, God never granted Howard and I our own child. I believe it was God's punishment to me because of my deception.
Now my cherished daughter has no family, except for you. I don't expect you to be a parent, my Dearest, as you have not had the experience of being a father and in your line of work it's doubtful you've learned much if anything of raising children, but I would like you to look after her decisions and make sure she stays true to herself. I would like you to be her guardian. You and your daughter have much in common; the way you think, the things that interest you, your character and intelligence. My Uncle Amos is elderly as is his wife and I'm afraid they may not have the energy to keep up with our spirited daughter. I have left her an adequate amount for a good education at any boarding school you think suitable, and living expenses which if you'll accept the task, I'll entrust to you.
You will like her and I know she will come to love you. I always kept her from your view for fear you'd notice the resemblance as she looks much like you. She has your beautiful hair, and your rich brown eyes and she, like you, is inquisitive, and full of spirit and intellect.
I can only imagine how betrayed and shocked you feel right now, my Love, but know whether I was right or wrong I only did what I did because I love you now and for eternity.
With all my Heart,
Amanda
A paper fell to the floor. It was a picture. He looked to Artie wondering if he'd seen it. A lovely young woman looked back at him with long dark wavy hair. Her eyes were large and full of life, and a small smile danced on her lips surrounded by a round pleasing face. She looked like Artemus Gordon.
Jim quickly flipped through the rest of the pages which all seemed to be legal documents.
He looked at Artie who continued to stand at the door.
"Artie, you ok?" he asked his voice full of concern, although he already knew the answer.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, his voice flat. "Look I'm going to get some fresh air for a minute. You don't need to look for me, I'll just be outside." He spoke with his back to Jim. He watched as his partner raised his forearm and bushed it across his eyes. He quietly opened the door and left.
Jim stood in the car alone and unsure of what do, an unfamiliar position for him. Artie was obviously hurting as much as he'd ever witnessed. He'd seen him shot, cut, bones broken, drugged, but he'd only seen him shed a tear once before. He watched through the window as he slowly walked then started running up the embankment that framed the Wanderer on the right side disappearing over the top.
