It was fully dark and I was dozing on my sofa when the door opened. I awoke instantly; after all I'd been through lately, I was far more alert even asleep than I'd ever been before.
"Who's there?" I hissed into the darkness. "I… I have a gun!"
"You do?" came a blessedly familiar voice. "Where'd you get that?"
I gave a great sigh of relief. "Artemus!"
He lit a lamp and came to perch on my trunk as I sat up and smoothed out my skirt. "Is everything all right? Where's Mr West?"
"Oh, I never saw Jim, but I'm pretty sure I saw some of his handiwork. Little Miss Carma wasn't there either. All I found at her house were a few of her pets. Oh, and a couple of two-legged rattlers as well."
"Two-legged…" Either I was still too sleepy, or he wasn't making much sense. "What are you talking about?"
He chuckled and told me about his visit, about finding a broken chair and a strange empty box, and then the afghan wadded up on the floor with some unexpected livestock under it. Next the dresser with the sketch pad locked up in a drawer, and some of the curious drawings he found inside. In particular, he described to me the sketch of an unusual cannon, asking, "Did you ever see anything like that while you were there?"
"No. But remember, they brought me in blindfolded and didn't remove the cloth from my eyes until after they'd put me in that cell with the sewing machine. And from that time until Mr Brown had me dress in the fireproof suit for the test, I never set foot outside."
"And you didn't see anything like it during the test either?"
"I'm sorry, no. It was dark, and I was only focused on the fire and how to put it to good use for me to make my escape. I wasn't looking for any strange artillery."
"No, that's all right. Don't worry about it." He leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the forehead. "You go on back to sleep. I just came back to put on my disguise and get back to work."
"Don't you need to sleep?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Maybe later. I'm too keyed up to sleep right now. Jim's out there doing who knows what, and with any luck, we can get the goods on Mr John Brown and put him and his outlaws behind bars where they belong. But I need to be out there too." He took my hand in his and squeezed it. "Go ahead and sleep, Barbara, and when you get up in the morning, just continue to make yourself at home here for now. I'm hoping this won't take much longer and then we can relax and maybe even have a little celebration."
I slipped my hand out of his and instead used it to pull his head closer to mine. "This is all the celebration I want," I said, and I pressed my lips to his.
…
A full day passed and then some. I was pleased to find that I was regaining more and more use of my arm - which was good, as the engineer, while a dear fellow, wasn't much of a cook. With plenty of time on my hands, my mind turned to what I usually thought of: clothing. I couldn't exactly make sketches at the moment, but as I passed the time by looking through my trunk, I saw one of my dresses and realized that, with a few alterations, it would be just lovely on little Carma. The poor child simply had no fashion sense!
I took out the dress and my sewing supplies, and with the slightly better mobility of my arm now than yesterday, I patiently threaded a needle and began.
…
I wasn't surprised that it took me all the rest of the day as well as the next morning to alter that dress. It was disheartening how many times I had to rip out wayward stitches and redo them! But, I reasoned, I had plenty of time and nothing else to keep me busy.
Well, nothing else but worry. At least my uncertain stitching kept my mind occupied.
As it happened, the timing was impeccable. Just as I finished the last stitch, I heard a wagon pull up outside. I went to the door to welcome - oh my! A cavalry officer! "Artemus?"
He chuckled and gave me a snappy salute. "At your service, ma'am. I have to change and send this uniform back before we can leave. If you don't mind, would you help Jim make Carma comfortable?" He disappeared down the hall, and moments later Mr West entered with the young woman in tow. Her eyes were sullen as she strode through the car to fling herself down on the far sofa.
"Miss Bosley," said Mr West, giving me a nod as he removed his hat. His jacket and gun belt followed. He then turned to the girl. "Carma? Would you like something to drink?"
I didn't understand her answer, for it was in Spanish. Her attitude made the meaning of her words fairly clear, especially after Mr West sighed and said, "Considering what just happened to the unfortunate John Obadiah Brown, I wouldn't think that expression is very appropriate right now, Carma."
"Not appropriate!" she snapped. "On the contrary, it's singularly appropriate. What happened to him should happen to you too!"
"Carma!"
She curled herself up into a ball on the sofa and began to sob. I looked at Mr West, but he only turned away and began disassembling my boudoir. "Is your trunk packed, Miss Bosley?" he asked.
I was so caught up with Carma's woes that the question took me by surprise. "Packed?"
"We have a wagon waiting outside to take you into town," he replied, nodding toward a window. "Once you're packed, we can move your trunk to the wagon."
"Oh!" That quickly! The promised celebration popped like a soap bubble. As Mr West took down my privacy screen and put it away, I moved to my sofa - oh, it wasn't going to be mine for much longer, was it? - and gathered all my things except the dress I'd been working on.
Shortly I was done. "All right, Mr West," I said.
He went to the swinging door that led to the rest of the varnish car. "Artie? We're ready."
"So am I," he replied, coming down the corridor and into the parlor. He was now in a green smoking jacket with a set of four frog closures adorning its front, a hint of a ruffled shirt peeking out just under the big bow tie at his throat. "Here's the uniform," he said, a bundle of neatly folded clothes in his arms.
"Let's get the trunk out to the wagon," said Mr West.
"All right. Would you mind taking care of these for me for a moment?" Artemus asked me, adding, "Oh, and, ah…" He leaned close and whispered into my ear, "Don't let little Carma out of your sight." He passed me the bundle, then helped take my trunk out.
I laid the stack of clothes on my sofa, then crossed to Carma's. Taking out my lace hanky, I pressed it into her hand and slipped my good arm around her. "Are you going to be all right?"
She flinched back from my touch and shook her head. "Nothing's ever going to be all right again! Never ever ever."
The men returned. Artemus took up the bundle of the uniform to carry it out as well, and I followed him outside onto the rear platform of the train and shut the door behind us. "What happened?" I asked.
"Ah… Let me, uh…" He gestured at the clothes and the driver, who was down there pointedly consulting his pocket watch. I nodded and waited till Artemus had deposited the uniform in the wagon bed.
As soon as he was ascending the steps once more, I asked my question again. "What happened?"
He sighed and leaned on the railing for a long moment, staring out at the horizon, then reached over and took my left hand in his. "You remember the cannon I described to you?" he said.
"Yes."
"Jim saw it in action. Instead of firing the usual ammunition - cannonballs, grapeshot, mortars - this cannon fired, well, great balls of fire."
I frowned, trying hard to imagine it, only to realize suddenly that I didn't have to imagine. "But… but that must be how they attacked the stagecoach then!"
He nodded. "Exactly. And that's why Mr Brown wanted you to make the fireproof suits, to lend him and Carma's father an extra measure of security while they worked with the, ah, fire cannon."
"Oh," I said.
He turned to look at me. "Oh?" he quoted.
Now it was my turn to look away toward the horizon. "I… well, I made three suits for Mr Brown. I… didn't bother at first to make them as protective as he desired. Why should I care if my kidnapper was pleased with my work? But when he said I would have to wear a suit for its trial by fire, I… well…"
He leaned into my peripheral vision. "You only fixed the suit you yourself would wear."
I nodded. "Yes, the smallest suit. I was taking a chance, I know, since he might well have made me put on one of the larger suits, whether it would fit me or not. But that suit was the only one that was truly protective."
He gave a great sigh. "I know."
"You know?" I stared at him, horror growing within me. "Artemus, tell me what happened!"
He gazed out at the horizon again as he described to me how Jim had managed to knock out Carma's father and take his suit from him. Wearing it, he had fooled Mr Brown in the other suit into thinking all was well. Then, as Brown was getting the cannon ready to fire at the oncoming cavalry…
"But you were in a cavalry uniform," I interrupted.
"Yes. I had escaped from Brown's fort to fetch the army. It turns out Brown was counting on me to do just that."
I clutched at his hand. "You could have been killed!"
"Well, for us, that's all in a day's work." He smiled down at me, then slipped his arm around me and dropped a kiss on my head. "At any rate," he went on, "John Brown was wearing his protective suit, albeit with the mask off, when Jim took up a keg of kerosene and threw it at the cannon."
I shook my head. "And?"
"And the way the cannon worked, it had a small flame on it, something like a pilot light. When the keg broke open, the flame ignited the fumes from the kerosene and, ah… John Brown was, uh… standing mighty close to the cannon…" His arm around my waist pulled me slightly closer, comfortingly. "I'm sure it was all over quickly," he finished.
"So he…" I couldn't bring myself to finish the statement.
"I'm sorry. Yes. He… died."
"That's what Carma and Mr West were talking about then," I said, and repeated that brief conversation to him, including my best endeavor at reproducing Carma's sentence in Spanish.
"Oh," said Artemus.
"She… she told him to go to Hell, didn't she?"
Slowly he nodded. "She did indeed."
We stood together for a long moment, his arm round my waist, my head leaning against his shoulder. Tears were slipping down my cheeks and I reached for my hanky, only to remember too late that I'd given it to Carma.
"Here." Artemus handed me his handkerchief and I took care of my leaking eyes.
"I feel just awful," I said when at last I was reasonably sure I could trust my voice again.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because… I already told you. Because I only fixed the suit I wore. If I had been more careful with Mr Brown's suit, perhaps he wouldn't have died."
"You can't know that. Remember, he wasn't wearing his mask. Even if the rest of the suit had been perfect, the fire would have gotten to…" His voice trailed off. "Never mind. I don't want that image in my mind, much less in yours."
Silence fell between us again. "Artemus?" I said at last.
"Yes, Barbara?"
"What's going to become of Carma?"
He sighed. "Well, the sheriff had his jail full with all the rest of Brown's men and didn't have anywhere to put her. Jim and I brought her back here intending to lock her up in our rolling cell in the baggage car and take her away to face the music. Why?"
"Well… would you do something for me?"
He looked at me and a flirtatious twinkle crept into his eyes. "Why, that all depends, sugar. Just what did you have in mind?"
Mm. If he wanted to be flirtatious, I could match him on that. I slipped my good hand into his hair and pulled him into a lingering kiss, then kissed his ear as well and whispered, "Let Carma go."
"Let…! Let her go!" He pushed me back and gaped at me. "Are you kidding? Why?"
I laid my hand on his chest and fiddled with his topmost frog. "Because it's my fault, you see. If I'd made his suit right…"
"We already went over this, Barbara…"
"Still!" I looked up at him, and I knew I was crying again, and I knew I was using one of the oldest feminine tricks in the book on him - except that I really was crying - but I didn't care. My inaction had led to the death of a man Carma thought the world of. A crazy man, yes. A dangerous evil man, yes. But it wasn't Mr Brown I was thinking of, it was Carma. Young, so young. And so devastated. "Please," I whispered. "For me. To ease my conscience."
"Barbara…" he said. Then he fell silent.
And then… then he nodded. "All right. Well, it's all up to Jim of course, but I'll suggest it."
"Oh, I love you!" I threw my arm around his neck and kissed him. "After all," I added once he let me catch my breath again, "she was only making sketches. It's not like she really did anything bad herself."
"Ah," said Artemus. But what he meant by that, he never told me. He only took my hand and led me back into the car.
We found Jim standing at one side of the parlor and Carma at the other. I went to the girl's side and dear Mr Gordon to his partner's side. And while I offered her the dress I'd altered for her, Artemus offered her her life back.
…
The goodbyes came so quickly after that. I spoke to Mr West, then turned to that dear man in the green smoking jacket and said, very playfully, "Mr Gordon."
He bowed to me. "May I see you off the train?"
I smiled. "I was hoping you'd ask!"
He took my hand. I moved on ahead of him. I didn't have to see his face to know what kind of look he shot his partner.
Well, I didn't care either. Minutes were precious now, and I wanted to use all of them I had left to express my gratitude to dear Artemus.
I was still thanking him when the door opened again for Carma and Mr West to come out.
Oh! The dress! I'd forgotten all about it. Artemus went back and brought it out for me. Carma's face when she saw it and realized it was for her was priceless - though not, of course, as priceless as her look a few minutes earlier when she'd found out she was free to go.
Artemus handed me up onto the wagon to sit by the driver, then Mr West helped Carma up to sit by my side. The driver shook out the reins and we started back to town. I turned to wave, as did the girl, until we saw the men get back on the train. The lonely hoot of the whistle sounded and we saw the smoke pour out as the train pulled away.
Carma clutched the dress to her bosom as the wagon carried us steadily back to town. "It's… it's a pity about my sketch books," she said at last.
And at that moment I knew what else I could do for Carma. I reached over with my left hand and patted hers. "Don't worry about that, dear," I said. "I'll buy you some new sketch books, as many as you want."
She looked at me, staring up with her intense, unblinking eyes. "You will?"
"Absolutely," I promised. "And what's more: Have you ever thought about using your artistic abilities…" I smiled at her. "…to get a job making sketches for a poor little injured dressmaker whose arm is still on the mend?"
FIN
