THE NIGHT OF THE GRAND OLD LADY

By Andamogirl

WWW

ACT ONE

Evening

Half-sitting, half-lying on the couch, his feet propped up on the arm, a book resting on his lap, Artemus worriedly eyed the punching bag that Jim had just hung with a hook to one of the metallic beams on the ceiling. "Jim, if you think that I'm going to punch that sandbag, you're mistaken. I can barely move my arm. My whole body is aching like I had run a marathon, no two marathons in a row and arrived last. Even my hair hurts. Find something else please."

Smiling, Jim sat beside his best friend. "You need this, it's good for you. After that, your training will be over – for today. Now give me your hands." And he pulled out two rolls of handwrap from the bag he was holding, before settling it at his feet.

Sighing in resignation, Artie complied and watched the younger man wrap layers of thick fabric around his hands to protect them from the future blows. "Hurting my hands is a bad idea you know? I've got a dress to design and then to make."

Smiling, Jim pulled out a pair of gloves from his bag. "I know that Artie. I wasn't going to let you hit that sandbag bare-knuckle. That's why I wrapped your hands in fabric and that's why I'm going to protect them even more with gloves." Then he put the gloves on - which resembled a bloated pair of mittens – and laced them around his best friend's wrists.

He pulled Artie up then moved him toward the sandbag. "I want you to hit it with all your strength. Let's start with a first series of ten right jabs. Think about… that man in Kansas City who fired you, it's going to give you incentive… By the way, I don't regret having punched him. He deserved it. You are a great actor, Artie, he didn't know how to appreciate your talent, that's all."

Smiling, Artie jabbed at the sandbag once. It barely moved. "Thank you."

Taking his place on a chair beside his companion Jim asked, "Artie, do you remember what happened between us, before we parted? I mean, after we retired? I told Hugo when he came to see me in my house in Tecate that I was mad at you and because of that I didn't know if I wanted to work with you again – but I can't remember what happened between us."

Freezing his gloved hands half-way from the sandbag in surprise, Artie asked, "You're mad at me?"

Jim shook his head. "No, not anymore, of course. But I'd like to know why I was mad at you. Do you remember what happened?"

Shaking his head, Artie said, "No, I don't. But it shouldn't have happened in the first place… How did we get here? We are like brothers, no, in fact we are blood brothers. We never quarreled, never fought against each other, we never said anything bad to each other… " He frowned and embarrassed asked. "It's not about me not showing up to your wedding, right?"

Jim stood and held the sandbag. "Let's try the right hook now." And he watched Artemus punch the sandbag once. It barely moved. He responded, "No, you told me at the time that your mother was very sick – and that Harry told you she could die, so you stayed at her side… I understood that, like I understood why you didn't show up to the christening of Jesus and Rufina in Tecate."

Lowering his hurting right hand, Artie said, "I'm the godfather of your children and I never showed up to their christening… I still feel so bad, same thing for not attending your wedding."

Placing a soothing hand on Artie's shoulder Jim said, "Don't be. It would have been impossible for you to come to Mexico with a broken leg."

Hitting the sandbag again, Artemus said, "I was unlucky. The horse salesman told me that his mare was calm and docile ... but as soon as I climbed into the saddle, she started to leap, rear and kick out like a rodeo horse and she threw me to the ground ... and my left leg broke on impact. Next time I need a new horse, I will let American Knife chose one for me, like he did with Mo."

Pressing Artemus's shoulder with affection, Jim said, "I should have known you would have an impediment, and that you wouldn't be able to come. You're a magnet for trouble. By the way now that we are back in the Secret Service we need to buy new horses – and take back those ones we rented from the livery stable. I'm going to buy a black stallion and call him 'Blackjack' like my first 'Blackjack'"

Smiling, Artie said, "I will keep my rented horse until I find a Cheyenne horse to replace Mo'éhno'ha Ȯhtameōhtsėstse. I miss Mo but he's too old to be my mount now. But each time I go to my mom's home I saddle him and I go for a walk with him along the Mississippi. He loves that. I'd like to do that with his buddy Blackjack 'one', but that horse never let anyone else ride him but you and he hasn't changed. They are happy there, together, they have space to gallop, a river to quench their thirst, big trees to protect them from the sun, greasy grass to graze and even a lot of horse buddies – and Licorice the pony that President Grant offered to the 5 year old boy me and they have nice stables too. They are enjoying a well-deserved retirement – unlike us!" Then he grimaced.

Patting the sandbag, Jim said, "Alright, we talk – and we talk, but I have to train you. Let's start a new round of punches."

Artie jabbed at the bag again putting more strength into it and the bag moved.

Punch, punch, punch…

WWW

A week later, New Orleans railroad station yard

At sunset

Smiling, Artemus looked at his reflection in the mirror of his sleeping compartment, proud of himself. His red and black dress, adorned with white lace and ribbons was absolutely perfect; not too severe but not too fancy either. Exactly what an old lady would wear. His silver haired wig and his light make-up were perfect too.

He could barely recognize himself. "You look gorgeous, Artemis," he said to his disguised reflection before laughing softly. He wrapped a black silk scarf around his neck to hide his Adam's apple and said, "Artie, old boy, you're the best!"

He left his private compartment and then headed toward the parlor car where Jim was waiting for him. Once in front of the other man he slowly pivoted so Jim could observe him, then asked. "What do you think? Do I look like a lady Jim?"

Jim walked around Artie while rubbing his chin pensively. "Well, the dress is beautiful Artie, but… you know I like dresses off the shoulders and with more décolleté."

Artemus rolled his eyes while remembering that Jim had told him the same thing when he was wearing his green dress before they had been stopped by the Russians and met Nadia. "Off the shoulders? More décolleté? What's the matter with you Jim? That's an obsession! My shoulders are too broad and covered with scars to be shown if I want to impersonate a woman and I still don't have anything to show." He touched his fake – but quite realistic breast. "It's filled with cotton balls and it's all flat underneath. And I'm an old lady, Jim, not a saloon girl. I can't wear this kind of dress. Now tell me if you see anything wrong."

Jim grinned, "Everything's fine Madame the Grand Old Lady of the Secret Service, you're absolutely per-fect." He sniffed his best friend's neck. "You even put on a little perfume… Mmm. Violet perfume, nice, and appropriate for an old lady." He took a step back. "The advantage of that kind of disguise is that you can hide lots of weapons in it without even a bulge. Where's your gun?"

Artie pulled up the right side of his dress and petticoat, revealing his hairless legs covered with black semi-transparent stocks and dark brown shiny boots and pointed at the .32 Smith & Wesson strapped to his calf with a large garter. "It's here."

Impressed Jim nodded in appreciation. "Good. It's not too big and not too small. Ideal to be hidden there. You chose it well." He chuckled. "Nice legs, a bit muscular for a woman, but your dress will hide them, and I love your boots, they are very… womanly. Tell me, Artemus, how do you manage to get your feet and ankles into those boots?"

Glancing down at his boots, Artemus replied, "A bootmaker made them in my size, but I told him they were a gift for my twin sister who has big feet." he chuckled at that lie and lifted his gloved right hand. "And gloves are hiding my masculine hands."

Smiling Jim asked, "After your fake twin brother, Adolphus, now you have a fake twin sister too? Let me guess, her name is Artemis. I think you regret being an only child buddy."

Looking straight in Jim's eyes, Artie smiled warmly and said, "I'm not, I have a brother – and a real one. His name is James West."

Smiling in response, Jim said, "Yes, I have one too, his name is Artemus Gordon – and correction, you have two brothers, American Knife and me."

Feeling guilty, Artie said, "That's true. Dear God Jim! I haven't seen American Knife and the Cheyenne of my band for years. After this mission is complete, I will visit them."

Jim smiled. "We will, buddy. I'd like to see them again too." He paused and asked, "Got any smoke bombs and knock out gas bombs, Artie?"

Flipping over his large satin belt Artemus showed them to his partner. "I have10 colored balls. Each of them are placed in an individual small pocket. "The blue ones are the smoke bombs, the red ones the knock-out gas bombs. I think it's enough for a reconnaissance mission."

Reassured to know that Artemus had weaponized his disguise and could defend himself, in case he had to do it, and he sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to do it, the younger man said. "What about your voice? Women aren't exactly baritones."

Artie smiled. "That's not a problem, I can do anything with my voice," he said progressively raising his voice a few octaves. "And now? How does my voice sound?"

Impressed Jim patted his best friend's shoulder in appreciation,. "Perfect. By the way what is your name just in case someone asks?"

Artemus played pensively with one of his silver locks. "Well… What about Artemis McAllister, from Kansas City. How does it sound?"

Jim smiled. "I like it. Don't forget Artie, it's just a reconnaissance mission, nothing else. Try to be as natural as possible and it will be alright. I will be on the other side of the street, hiding in darkness, ready to help you in case you need me."

Artemus reached out his hand. "To be as natural as possible I will need money to buy things in that shop – just looking at all the things would be suspect. Besides, I'd like to make a new waistcoat for myself… I mean for my husband. He's the one who has money." Then he winked at his partner playfully and reached out an opened hand.

Rolling his eyes Jim sighed.

WWW

Shortly after holding a purse filled with some of Jim's banknotes, Mrs. Artemis McAllister left the Wanderer stationed in the railroad yard, away from the station to stay discreet. Night had fallen and a full moon was shining in the cloudless sky.

But unfortunately, a man hidden in a dark recess behind a pile of wood saw the disguised agent leave and followed him discreetly.

His mind entirely focused on his undercover mission and to pass for an old lady while in the main street, Artie didn't notice anything at all.

Jim West left the train a few minutes later and no one followed him

WWW

Later in 'Le Ruban Rouge'

Mrs. Artemis McAllister silently sighed in relief when one of the two guards posted at the door opened it for her, touching the brim of his hat with politeness.

Artie had an inner proud smile. His disguise worked just fine.

He moved toward the first showcases located to his right and knew why the shop was off limits to the male gender. It sold the finest French undergarments: corsets, petticoats, shirts, pantaloons, girdles, etc. and sleepwear, nightgown and negligee, all of them made in silk, satin and chiffon, with embroidery and lace decoration.

Feeling ill at ease in that women's intimate world, trying not to blush, he looked around, circulating among the female customers who were chatting with the saleswomen, moving from one showcase to another surveying the shop from the corner of his eye. There was one female guard posted next to the door, sitting on a chair pretending to read a fashion magazine, but she was watching the clientele. She had a handbag sitting at her feet and the fabric was stretched around a familiar form, a revolver.

It was an observation post.

There were two doors behind the counter and a staircase on the left leading upstairs and there was one door there, he noticed.

He padded toward the main counter, feigning interest in the colored stockings and garters displayed in a showcase and, behind the counter, he spotted a trapdoor on the floor leading to a cellar… and coming from that place he could hear a faint and muffled familiar noise that he would recognize among one thousand: people down there were using a bank note press.

He had another inner smile pleased to know that he had found where the counterfeiters were operating from here at Le Ruban Rouge shop. Suspicions about the location of the place where the Ring of Counterfeiters operated were now verified. 'I'll come back here tonight with Jim and the Secret Service local agents and the police. Good job! Let's go! Reconnaissance is over,' he thought.

Feeling relieved that everything went just fine - he was ready to leave the French lingerie shop when a blond saleswoman placed her hand on his arm. "Are you looking for something specific, madam? How can I help you?" she asked with a warm smile.

Using his best soprano voice Artemus replied, "No, nothing specific, I was just looking at these lovely articles of lingerie you have in your shop…"

The blond woman's smile suddenly vanished, and before Artie realized that something was wrong, she pulled out a Derringer from her left sleeve.

She pointed the small gun at Artemus. "Now raise your hands and don't make any ill-advised moves or I shoot you right where you are," she said menacingly.

The Special Agent took an involuntarily step back and sucked in a (real) surprised breath. "Dear God! I-I don't understand… Why are you pointing a gun at me, miss? I didn't steal anything. I'm not a thief." He noticed that all the women present in the shop – fake customers - as well as the saleswomen - fake too- had encircled him. All of them had Derringers in their hands. 'Oh boy! I knew it! I knew something bad would happen to me. Call it premonition', he mused. Still in his role, he added, "This is not how you will attract customers, you know? Or is it to force me to buy something? Forced sale is not the solution to sell more..." He suddenly heard a very recognizable nasal laugh, closed his eyes for a split second with a "sigh followed with 'Oh no!' And then looked up upstairs… "It was a trap," he said using his baritone voice.

Michelito Loveless was standing there, upstairs, leaning against the rail, bouncing with glee. "Yes it was. Welcome to my very elaborate set up Mr. Gordon." Then he smiled proud of himself. "Got you!"

Feeling like a helpless mouse surrounded by hungry cats, Artemus took another involuntarily step backward and bumped against the female guard who had left her post next to the door.

In a flash the woman dropped the fashion magazine she was holding to the floor and pulled out the revolver she kept in her handbag.

Artemus turned around and he let out a yelp of both surprise and pain when the butt of the.45 Colt she was gripping crashed on his nose, breaking it, splitting his lips as well.

Groaning, Artemus dropped like a lead weight on all fours to the floor seeing stars in front of his eyes, bile welling up in his throat and warm blood filling his mouth.

Blood was dripping down his chin too and onto his neck. He smeared the blood on his face with the back of his hand, moved to his knees and raised his hands above his head.

Loveless commanded, "Cross your arms above your head, Mr. Gordon! I want to see your hands. I know that you are a very skilled man with your hands, like a magician."

Artie complied and sucked his burning lips into his mouth, quick-licking, and tasting his own blood, then he spat some blood and saliva across the floor – right on top of Loveless's shoes– making the short man recoil, grimacing in disgust.

The door suddenly opened and the two men who were posted outside entered the shop and one of them put the 'closed" sign up as the other one pulled down the blinds behind the barred door.

But they left it open.

Loveless Jr. smiled and tsked-tsked. "Now, now Mr. Gordon, be a god boy and stay calm. "Your partner shouldn't be long now. Amanda? Pull the trigger, please, we need to attract Mr. West here."

Immediately the woman with the big gun – Amanda – pointed it at the ceiling and fired, creating a hole in a white painted beam.

Loveless went down the stairs and joined the Secret Service agent.

He looked at Artemus from head to toe and then said, "It's a remarkable disguise Mr. Gordon, my sincere compliments. But I didn't expect any less from you, the master of disguise, the man of many faces." He clapped his hands. "Bravo!"

By now Artie's entire face ached.

Loveless grabbed a handful of silver hair and pulled off the wig off Artemus's hair, slickened and plastered to his skull with brilliantine.

He chuckled, "I have just scalped you!"

WWW

Earlier in the street:

Jim West was posted on other side of the street, standing in the shadows of a dark alley separating two houses, when he saw the two guards flanking the barred door of Le Ruban Rouge enter the lingerie shop. One of them put the 'closed' sign up and the other one pulled down the blinds behind the barred door.

He frowned in both surprise and worry. 'Closed?' But Artie was still inside… Something was definitively wrong, he thought.

His blood froze in his veins when he heard a sudden gunshot. "Artie!" he let out.

He pulled out his gun from his holster and crossed the street at top speed, sprinting toward the lingerie shop. He opened the door of 'Le'Ruban Rouge' a few seconds later.

WWW

Holding his gun, fingertip on the trigger, ready to fire, Jim entered the shop and stopped dead in his tracks as he discovered the alarming scene in front of him.

Michelito Loveless was standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed on his chest, grinning like the mad man he was.

Artemus wigless, was on his knees, arms raised and crossed above his head. He was pale, a light film of perspiration covering his blood-smeared face and his nose and split lips bled sluggishly. His chin and neck were covered with darkened and drying blood.

His partner was framed by two women holding a small gun against each of his temples, at point blank range. Another woman was pointing a Colt at the back of his head.

His face like stone, Jim pointed his revolver at the short, blond man. "It's not a pleasure to see you again," he said coldly, then he asked Artie, "You all right?"

Nodding, Artemus replied, his voice sounding all nasally, "Not really, no. It was a trap Jim, as you can see. We should have been more wary. We fell for it hook, line and sinker!"

Looking up at Jim, Loveless Jr. said, "Drop your gun Mr. West and stand on the opposite side of the room or you soon will have to find another partner."

Jim complied immediately and the two guards standing on each side of the door moved to seize him. Pressing on the other man's shoulders they brought him to his knees.

Keeping his cool, Jim asked his new Nemesis, "I wonder if you are 'Loveless the original' or one of one of the 5 copies of himself which he created."

Michelito Loveless pointed at his own chest. "I'm the original, and those copies never existed. I wanted to keep the Secret Service occupied chasing non-existent other me's throughout the country. As you can see I managed to escape that formidable explosion, protected in the indestructible bunker I had built deep underground. But there was only room for me. Alan and Sonya, my $600 people were killed. But one day I will conquer the world with an army of human beings with superhuman strength."

Unfazed Jim said, "Then you will need to find a lot of quadruple amputees and a lot of money and a lot of time to provide them mechanical limbs. Maybe it's why you're counterfeiting money?"

Michelito Loveless shook his head, "No, I won't. I'm the richest man in the world. I don't need counterfeited money. Counterfeiting money on a large scale was to lure you here. And I posted armed guards outside so that this place looks suspicious in the eyes of the local USSS agents investigating the case. They reported it to their superiors, and those superiors told this to Malone. I was sure that Director Malone would send his best agents – the two of you - here to investigate thoroughly, and he did. I knew that Mr. Gordon would come here first, on a scouting expedition, it is how you always proceed. That's why I was waiting for him, or rather her, as I knew Mr. Gordon would be disguised as a woman, as this shop only admits women…"

Curious, Artie asked, "How did you know it was me?"

Loveless replied, "Simple. One of my men, Grover, was watching your train, and when he saw you leaving the Wanderer, he followed you here. When he told me that a woman dressed in red and black had left the Wanderer and was in the shop, I knew it was you, Mr. Gordon."

Looking at the short man, Jim said, "A friend could have visited us."

Loveless shook his head. "Impossible. My man was posted at the station since your arrival. No woman went on board your train."

Still curious, Artie asked, "I'm curious, did this shop exist before you used it as a trap, or did or did you create it from scratch?"

Loveless smiled. "It existed before, and the owner is dead – he had an unfortunate accident after he refused to lend his shop to me. I chose this place because I thought it would be fun to see you come here disguised as a woman, Mr. Gordon, and it was."

Glaring at the short man Artie deadpanned, "I'm thrilled to have entertained you."

Loveless Jr. rubbed his hands in anticipation. "I have planned something very special for you gentlemen, a very creative death. My father would be so proud of me if he was still alive." He paused and said, "I suppose you are carrying a little arsenal in your clothes Mr. Gordon, I suggest you undress, slowly. Take off your shoes too because they could hide a weapon, or a bomb ... No tricks, or Mr. West will be seriously injured. I don't need him to be in one piece for what I have planned to do with him."

Artie stood wincing all the way up and then complied. He started to take his clothes off, one at a time, blushing, embarrassed to do so framed by three lovely young women – but he rapidly didn't care as he noticed that they were totally uninterested by his not-Greek-god-like body. 'I'm a sagging old man,' he thought sadly. But he remembered Penelope's smile and her kisses and he felt instantly better. She didn't think he was old, just older than her, and she didn't mind if he didn't look like a Greek god.

He finally dropped his hidden gun on the floor next to his boots. "Happy now?" He asked, wearing only is black, short and tight-fitting manly underwear and… his stockings and garters.

Loveless sniggered. "You look ridiculous."

Raising his blood-covered chin proudly, blood dripping steadily from his broken nose, Artie replied, "Ridicule doesn't kill."

His eyes cold, the short man said, "But I do, kill – and I will kill you."

Doing his best to keep his calm, Artie suddenly spotted two smoke bombs under the frou-frou bordering his petticoat. They had escaped from the hidden pocket in his belt when he had undressed and had rolled unnoticed there, he thought. 'Artie, old boy, if you want Jim and you to escape from Loveless's clutches and from a certain death, take your chance…' He needed to act fast. He looked at Jim and said, "Like my Great Aunt Maude always said, Artemus my boy you're always full of surprises… and they are not always good." Then he shot a meaningful look at his companion.

Hearing that Jim tensed up a little, readying himself for action. He knew that when Artie talked about his 'great aunt Maude' who didn't exist, his partner was ready to do something – usually something dangerous -to get them out of a predicament.. It was a code between them.

His jaw tightened, Artemus took a step forward and crushed the two small blue balls under the heel of his left foot and suddenly there was a double explosion.

In a flash Jim punched the two men framing him, sending them flying in the air – knocking them more than twelve feet – 'I'm back to my top shape!' he thought as he watched them crumple to the floor. But he was disappointed he hadn't Koed them. 'I need to train more.'

Immediately a growing thick cloud of red smoke started to fill the room.

Michelito Loveless let out a cry of pure rage, then he groaned, "Damn you Gordon! Damn you! Grover! Berkley! Find them! Don't let them escape!" He ordered. Then he cautiously headed toward the back of the lingerie shop, behind the main counter.

The two henchmen stood on wobbly legs and started to fire at the ceiling hoping to scare the two agents, forcing them to surrender.

Using that diversion, Artie escaped from his female 'guardians' pushing them away from him and moved toward the door, seeing nothing but volutes of red smoke around him.

Not seeing a single thing but a curtain of thick, red smoke all around him, Jim cried out, "Artie, let's get out of here!"

He flinched when he heard a thud, followed by a pained, nasal sound, and something metallic with glass crashing to the floor, and he recognized Artie's voice. "Artie!"

His brow furrowed in concern he called, "Artie?" as he vaguely spotted a shadow moving on his left. He grabbed a limb – hoping it belonged to his best friend. "Artie? Is that you? Are you hurt?" He heard a pained grunt then a felt a hand grasp his arm. "Yes, it's me, Jim, the chandelier just crashed on top of my shoulder, ow!", he heard his partner tell him. He sighed in relief. "We'd better get moving!"

The two men somehow managed to find the door, left 'Le Ruban Rouge' in a hurry and then ran into the street to the middle of a few people attracted there by the shot.

In the light of a lamppost; Jim saw a large blood stain which was spreading rapidly on Artemus's right shoulder and spotted the top of a glass shard in the middle of it, embedded in the flesh. He winced in sympathy and said, "Let's find a doctor!"

His face greenish, his head thrown back and applying his fingertips to his bleeding nose, Artie rasped, "I'm going to be okay, find our local agents and the police. Bring them here before it's too late. We need to capture them. Go! I'm heading back to the Wanderer. You'll join me there later."

Frowning, Jim hesitated. "Artie…"

But Artemus was already crossing the street ignoring the people gathered there surprised to see a half-naked man in his underwear – wearing stockings and garters – with a bleeding shoulder, pass in front of them, grimacing in pain.

He mounted his horse.

WWW

On the Wanderer, later

Sitting on the edge of the couch, Artemus bit his lip hard to keep from screaming when his partner, using a clamp removed the blood-covered shard of glass which was embedded in his flesh.

With a cloth soaked in disinfectant Jim dabbed the ragged and deep cut that Artie had on his shoulder, where the chandelier had hit him, deeply bruising his skin there too.

His fists tightening, his breathing hitching Artie closed his eyes, "Ow! Aaargh…That hurts! "he rasped and he gave a whimper of pain.

Sitting on the coffee table in front of his 'patient', Jim said, "I know, and I'm sorry Artie. But I have to do it." And he continued to wipe away the fresh blood from the angry-looking wound, slowly, gently, while cleaning it. "I'm going to need to sew up this cut Artie and then you'll be good as new."

The older man leaned forward, feeling his swelling broken nose pulsating with pain. "I know Jim. Do it." then he took deep, slow breaths, preparing himself for what was to come. He hissed in pain and winced when Jim poured the disinfectant over the inflamed area. It was burning like acid. "Oooh boy! What is that thing? Liquid fire?" He gritted his teeth waiting for the pain to become dull and he added, "I still can't believe they took my disguise when they fled!"

Patting his best friend's arm soothingly Jim said, "I know. One of the women must have found it beautiful and she took it You'll make a new one though, and even more beautiful." He fished a pre-threaded needle out of the medical kit sitting at his side on the coffee table.

He saw Artie's face going gray as he touched the needle to his skin and paused. "Are you ready?" He asked sick to his stomach to hurt his best friend.

Seeing Artie nod, Jim pulled at the skin, forcing it back together and heard Artemus hiss and grunt when he pushed the curved needle through into soft flesh. "It's not going to be long," he said, hearing his partner's breathing begin to be labored. He felt his shoulder tense with pain under his fingertips. "I'm sorry," he said as gasps of pain escaped Artemus's split lips.

His face clammy and now colorless, Artie said, "It's okay." His head dropped and his fingers curled over the edges of the couch, gripping it each time Jim made a new loop of thread – and whimpering in pain. "It's too bad they managed… to escape."

The younger man nodded. "By the time I went back there – 10 minutes top - with the police and the local agents of the Secret Service they were gone. But they left the printing press, the paper, the ink and all the counterfeited money in the cellar. They are now locked in the MINT."

It took a couple of minutes for Jim to sew his best friend's wound shut as tears were streaming down Artemus's pale cheeks. "It's over and it will probably scar." Then he wiped away some fresh blood that leaked out from the row of stitches, and, when the stitched shoulder was clean and dry, he wrapped it in a clean bandage. "There, all patched up."

Relieved that the stitching was over Artie said, "Thank you. You're a great nurse, Jim."

Observing Artie's broken nose, he added, "I've had a lot of practice with you in the past. Now I'm going to clean your face, Artie." Then, using a new cloth and sterile water, he gently wiped the dried blood away from his partner's swollen face making him wince as he touched his broken nose and split lips. Once that was done, he said, "Now I'm going to reset your nose and this is going to hurt – a lot. Ready?"

Shaking his head, Artie said, "No, I'm not."

Placing his thumbs against the bridge of Artemus's broken nose, Jim instructed, "Take a deep breath and count to three…"

Complying Artemus said, "One, two, three… " and froze when he felt Jim slowly drag his thumbs down the protuberance while pushing down in a straight line.

Crack!

Pain exploded again across Artie's face, localized around his nose. Hissing like an angry cat, he grabbed Jim's shoulders in a vice-like grip, feeling dizzy, almost passing out. "Hurts." he moaned softly.

Jim said, "It's over, I pushed it back in place. "Can you breathe well?"

Artie inhaled and exhaled slowly through his nose. "Yes, I can. I'm going to need ice on my poor nose to avoid more swelling though."

Jim nodded. "I know, I'm going to bring you that in a moment. First I need to take care of your lips buddy." He took a pot of healing ointment (a mix of bee wax and honey) from the medical kit and applied a little of it on Artie's injured lips. "There, you'll have to do this several times a day, and your lips will heal nicely." He smiled. "You should be able to kiss a woman in a week."

Smiling weakly, Artie let out a, "Ha-ha-ha! Very funny Jim!' Then he winced. His whole face throbbed.. "Ow! Ow! Ow!"

His vision blurred, his nose hurting like hell, the older man slumped backward and moved into a half-sitting, half-lying position on the golden embroidered couch, too small for his frame. "Thank you…" He paused as tears flooded his face. He asked, "What are we going to do now?"

Standing, Jim replied, "It's simple. We have to find Loveless Jr. and arrest him and his men – and women. I'm going to send a wire to Malone to keep him informed of the recent events. As for you Artie, take some rest. You need it."

From the medicine kit, he tipped out a couple of painkillers from a bottle and gave them to Artemus. "That should help," he said.

He headed toward the galley and came back a couple of minutes later holding a cloth filled with pieces of ice and a glass of water, which he gave to Artemus.

He watched his best friend swallow the pills with a sip of water, took the empty glass back and then gently settled the 'bag of ice' on his best friend's bruised face.

He helped Artie to move into a comfortable position, placing pillows around him and then added, "Sleep well buddy."

His pounding head as heavy as lead, his limbs feeling like sodden cotton and his shoulder burning and his nose too, Artie's closed his eyes red and glassy and he was fast asleep.

WWW

Much later,

On the verge of consciousness, Artemus vaguely felt cold pressing on his forehead. he lifted a weak hand and touched… metal.

He opened his eyes and jumped seeing a man holding a .45 to his head and recognized one of Loveless's henchmen.

He raised his hands and slowly turned his head to the side and saw Michelito Loveless who was sitting on the opposite couch.

His other goon was standing beside him, holding a gun.

He spotted Jim lying on the carpeted floor, at his feet, unconscious, trussed up tightly. He was breathing ok and he wasn't wounded, he noticed in relief.

Loveless Jr. smiled, "Ah! How was your nap Mr. Gordon? I could have woken you up, but you'll need all your strength to withstand what I have planned for you."

Slowly moving into a sitting position, Artemus said, "I thought you were long gone; heading back to your hideout, somewhere…"

Michelito Loveless nodded. "Because of you, I had to leave New Orleans hastily, that's true and I used my personal train called the Silver Arrow to escape, but I came back when everyone, including you, thought I was far from here. I couldn't miss the opportunity to capture you again to be able to carry on my plan." He glanced around him and said, "It's beautiful but the Wanderer is an old train, slow and tired ... like you. Mine is up-to-date and rapid, like me. By the way, entering the Wanderer even with her door locked was child's play. You should install an alarm system to signal any intrusion." He snapped his fingers. "Don't bother. You won't need it when you are dead."

Blinking tiredly, Artie nodded. "I had one installed years ago, which worked very well, but it was removed, along with a lot of things when the train was decommissioned."

Loveless stood up and snapped his fingers. "Berkley, take Mr. West to my place and be sure to keep a watchful eye on him." The taller of the goons, Berkley pulled Jim up over his broad shoulder and holding him, left the parlor car.

Frowning in deep concern, Artie watched them leave the room and asked Loveless Jr. "What are you going to do to Jim?"

The short man shook his head. "I'm not going to tell you, Mr. Gordon. That way you will be able to imagine the worst things possible, as you have a vivid imagination, and you will be sick with anxiety…" And he grinned like the Cheshire cat. "He'll die though, like you will, slowly, painfully. But the way he'll die is different from the way I have planned for you. And this time your friend won't be able to save you or you to save him."

Artemus moved into a sitting position a gun still pointed at his head. "Could I have an inkling of what you have planned for me Junior? You know me, I'm curious."

Michelito Loveless stood up running his hand along the top of the couch. "It has something to do with your fondness for disguise… let's call it 'death by disguise'." Looking up at his other henchman, he said, "Grover? Prepare another dose of sedative, this time for M. Gordon, a long journey awaits him." The thug standing beside his boss complied, pulling out a pre-filled syringe from the inner pocket of his jacket. "Sleep well, Mr. Gordon. I hope you have fun."

Grover stabbed Artie's arm with the injection needle enjoying the older man's grimace of pain and then, a few seconds later, watched him close his eyes as the drug took effect.

His vision blackening, heart pounding in his ears, Artemus dropped limply to his side, his head resting on the cushion and he finally closed his eyes.

Loveless nodded. "Good! Use the Silver Arrow to take him next to the Indian Territory and then you'll start my plan in Miller Springs. You have your instructions."

Grover had a crocodile smile. "With pleasure."

The short man glanced around him. "I'm going to borrow this train to go to Phoenix, and from there I will take my carriage to go to Las Mesas."

Tbc.