Chapter 4

The ride back to Remembrance was a little awkward as neither man knew quite what to say to the other. Gordon was solicitous as ever of West's health, after all, he had been through a lot the last few days. However, he was wary of pushing things too far with his partner because he knew, from past experience, that West wouldn't stand for being treated as an invalid. Still, he made sure they didn't ride for too long and so it was that they struck camp in the middle of the afternoon.

The two men were sitting in silence, drinking coffee when West revealed what had been on his mind during their ride that morning.

"I've been wondering what life I'm going back to, the people who I won't remember." Then something suddenly occurred to him. "Hey, you would have told me if I had a wife or a girl somewhere, wouldn't you?"

Gordon hesitated for a moment. "Well, I didn't want to tell you until I thought you could handle it but you're bound to find out some time. You are married and I know Hortense will be just pining away for your return," he said.

"Hortense!" he said, shocked. "What's she like?"

"Truth be told, knowing the sort of women you usually go for, I was surprised when you picked Hortense as your life partner but you two seem to rub along well enough together. Of course, it helps that you're away a fair bit on assignment. She's so affectionate toward you, I've often likened her to a limpet. It will break her heart that you don't remember her." At this point Gordon thought he'd laid it on thickly enough and couldn't help a smile at the chagrin on his friend's face.

"Yeah, that could be a bit of a problem," West said, with a dazed look of horror.

Gordon had to cough to cover his laughter. He knew he should have felt bad for teasing his friend but he just couldn't help himself. Also, it would give West something else to occupy his mind besides his future in Washington.

While waiting for the Wanderer, Gordon booked them into the hotel in Remembrance. There was no sign that being back in the town had jogged West's memory. He insisted on having a room of his own and Gordon said nothing to persuade him otherwise, even though he considered that he shouldn't be left on his own for the time-being.

West was able to confirm that the room he had been in with Shawcross was not like the ones at the hotel in Remembrance, so Gordon's suspicions were correct.

Not long after he had gone to sleep, Gordon woke up and wondered what had roused him. He lay there for quite some time, worrying about West and imagining what life would be like for him until he got his memory back or, worse still, if he never got it back. He was mentally gnawing over the problem of how to persuade Colonel Richmond to keep West in the field, when he decided to check in on him just to make sure he was all right. He knew he was acting like a mother hen with one chick and hoped that West wouldn't resent his interference. He'd have to be careful not to wake him.

Opening the door as quietly as possible, Gordon waited while his eyes adjusted to the dark. He was able to see that West was not in the bed or anywhere else in the room. A quick search revealed that his hat and gun-belt were missing as well.

Gordon was suddenly on the alert. Normally, he wouldn't be worried or surprised if West decided to go out at night but, normally, Jim would invite him to join him, not do it secretively and, normally, he wasn't suffering from a knock on the head and loss of memory. With that in mind, he quickly dressed and left the hotel to scan the street for West's likely destination. The obvious choice was the saloon so he went in that direction.

It wasn't hard to find West, as he was making a considerable amount of noise, not just because he had consumed the best part of a bottle of hard liquor, which sat on the bar in front of him, but because he had, for some reason, started a fight with one of the patrons. West was taunting the other man who, almost equally as drunk, threw a punch in response. Even in his cups, West was able to duck the flying fist and, clasping his assailant around the waist, backed him over a table and onto the floor. He righted himself and butted West in the stomach. West was rammed into the bar and slid to the ground. He was getting up when Gordon intervened by grabbing his left arm.

"Come on, Jim, you've had enough for tonight."

West attempted to fend him off but the fight had gone out of him and he allowed himself to be half supported, half dragged from the saloon. As soon as the cold night air hit West the alcohol in his bloodstream went straight to his head and his legs went from beneath him.

"Jim!" Gordon slapped him on the face just hard enough to shock him out of his stupor and back on his feet.

"Leave me alone," West said in a slurred voice. "Don't feel so good," he finished.

Gordon took one look at his face and rushed him to the gutter where he vomited violently. Gordon realised this owed less to his drunken state and more to the blow to his solar plexus. It might also have something to do with his recent head injury. Taking no chances, he decided to get West back to bed as soon as possible.

This proved to be more easily said than done, especially as West wasn't inclined to help in the process of getting him to the hotel and up the stairs. As they reached his room, West yawned and began to mellow a little. As Gordon was removing his jacket and boots, West smothered a laugh.

"I have explosives in my boots," he whispered.

"I know," Gordon replied, "they're an invention of mine."

"They are?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, you're awesome!" West replied, looking up at Gordon in wonder, "absolutely awesome!"

With that he passed out. Gordon sighed with relief, covered him with a blanket and left him to sleep it off.

The next morning Gordon was eating breakfast in the hotel dining room when West made an appearance. His eyes were puffy and he was walking gingerly to avoid jarring his head. He sat down opposite Gordon and gratefully accepted the cup of black coffee he was offered.

"Care to tell me what last night was all about?" Gordon asked.

"Well, you can't accuse me of drinking to forget," was West's wry response. He carefully kept his eyes on the table, not quite ready to face the day.

"It wasn't designed to help you remember either," Gordon said. "Is the headache back?"

"No."

"Liar."

"When do we rendezvous with the train?" West asked, changing the subject.

"The Wanderer should be pulling in a couple of hours from now. Do you want to get some more rest?"

"No, I'm fine," West said, but then he winced as he looked up and was hit by the sunlight coming through the window. "On second thoughts," he said, shielding his eyes.

"You go and lie down. I'll see to the hotel bill and the horses and I'll call you when it's time to leave."

West began to nod in agreement, thought better of it, and left.

Gordon watched him walk away, full of misgivings. What did the future hold for his friend? They would soon be on their way to Washington and time was running out for West to regain his memory. Gordon was loathe to accept that his friend would never remember him and all that they had been through together, especially the friendship they'd forged and which he'd hope would be a lifelong one. It was frightening to realise how fragile that friendship had turned out to be under the weight of the current circumstances. He'd seldom dwelled on the possibility that one or other of them might be killed on assignment. You couldn't do this job if you let your mind dwell on that scenario. But to find his partner taken away from him so suddenly, and for such a relatively trivial reason, was hard to bear. Would they ever find their way back?

By the time they met up with the Wanderer West had become uncommunicative again. However, he seemed suitably impressed with their living quarters and, after a tour of the train, he was well-informed about the various and remarkable features it included. By the time he had been introduced to Henrietta it was obvious, though, that West was trying to hide his fatigue. This tiredness seemed to be a feature since his knock on the head and subsequent fall from the window. Gordon was satisfied that he hadn't suffered a concussion but he was nevertheless concerned that his friend had enough sleep.

"Why don't you lie down until dinner," Gordon suggested. "I usually take care of the cooking."

West looked relieved for two reasons. He had been longing to lie down and rest his head for some hours and he wasn't sure if he knew how to cook but suspected that he didn't.

"Thanks, Artemus," he said, "but wake me up if you need me." He seemed to realise what he had said, hesitated and then turned abruptly and left. Under what circumstances could he possibly be needed, he chided himself.

During dinner, Gordon revealed that, while West had been asleep, they'd received orders to visit the local Governor and pick up some information for the President.

"It means we'll have to remain in Remembrance for a bit longer but don't worry, I can easily handle this assignment on my own. You can stay here and rest."

"When are you leaving?"

"I ride out directly after dinner. Will you be alright on your own?"

"Yeah," West said. So he was already being sidelined. What he wouldn't admit was his headaches were getting progressively worse and he could really do with a stiff drink and an early night.

After a couple of stiff drinks, West fell asleep on the couch. He was woken by the barrel of a gun being pressed against his right temple. Before he could respond the gun was cocked and a voice instructed him not to move. Seconds later a cloth impregnated with chloroform was placed over his face and he passed into unconsciousness.

There it was again, that nasty taste in the mouth. West lifted his eyes to discover his hands were roped together through a hook attached to a beam up above him. He could also feel that a device of some sort was attached to his head. Below him were a bank of generators and a familiar-looking piece of apparatus. He fought to remember why it was familiar to him but he couldn't quite bring the memory to the forefront of his mind. All he knew, instinctively, was that there was great danger. This was confirmed when he recognised the man standing at the controls; Shawcross!

"I'm glad to see that you have woken up at last, Mr West," he said.

West was too busy trying to loosen himself from his bonds to pay much attention. He had to get out of there.

"Ah, the ever so cool and collected Mr West seems to be panicking. How odd! Can it be that you remember your surroundings and what happened to you here? Perhaps a small sample will jog your memory."

"No!" West pleaded.

Ignoring him, Shawcross pulled a small lever and a moderate electrical shock coursed through West's brain.

When it didn't turn out to be the excruciating experience he had, for some reason, been expecting, West took advantage of the reprieve. Ever the man of action, he swung both feet up to the beam and, hanging by his knees, released the ropes from the hook. He jumped down from the platform and threw himself at Shawcross before he could get away. Even with his hands joined by a piece of rope, West was able to land him a hard blow to the jaw that floored him.

Anxious to get as far away as possible, West ran from the building. With the tension released it was easy to shake the ropes from his wrists. Finding his horse tethered outside, West mounted it and rode off, spurred on by thoughts of half-remembered pain, not stopping to wonder why his horse was there. Soon he felt a shift in his brain and began to slow down until he stopped altogether to steady his head against the lightning pain. His jumbled thoughts began to straighten themselves out and his memory returned like a pebble hitting water. The memories spread outwards until they reached the events of his first visit to Remembrance. It was as if the previous few days had never happened. Then, like a hammer blow to his heart he remembered that Artemus was dead, killed by Amelia Shawcross. But he couldn't allow himself to think about that now. Even though the heavy weight in his heart would be a constant reminder, he obviously had a responsibility to finish his assignment. Now he was no longer acting irrationally, he knew he had to return and deal with Shawcross. Going back into danger had one advantage; it would delay the need for him to dwell on a future he had yet to find the courage to face.

Meanwhile, back at the house, 'Shawcross' was getting to his feet and rubbing his jaw. Things hadn't gone quite as he'd planned when he'd donned his disguise earlier. It had all seemed so simple. Pretend to be Shawcross, drag West back out to the house where he'd been tortured and put him through it all again, this time without hurting him. In his mind, the electrical shock, although weak, was an obvious way to force his partner's memory to return. In reality he was none the wiser as to the effect that it had had on West. Until he knew the outcome, Gordon was unsure of how his friend would greet the knowledge of his subterfuge. After all, the kill or cure scenario must have been very unpleasant for him. Now he was presumably racing around alone on his horse, heading goodness knew where. So it was with trepidation that Gordon removed his disguise, found his horse, and rode in the direction of the train.

Suddenly, he saw West riding toward him. Thankfully, he seemed rational enough as he brought his horse to a standstill; that was until he spoke.

"Artie, you're alive!" West's smile was one that Gordon had never seen before. His friend leaned over from his horse and grabbed Gordon by the shoulders, as if to make sure he really was flesh and blood.

"I'm glad to see you're alright too, Jim, but why did you think I was dead?"

"Because Amelia Shawcross said she killed you." The memory of it made his face fall and he looked more like a schoolboy who'd been beaten unfairly than the secret agent he was.

The penny dropped. "Jim, what day do you think this is?"

West looked at him oddly. "I'm not sure of the date but I guess we've been in Remembrance a couple of days at most. Why do you want to know?"

"Because we arrived five days ago," Gordon said.

"Five days?" West was confused. "But I just came from the Shawcross house. Surely I wasn't there five days?"

"You don't remember losing your memory?" Gordon asked and, as soon as he said it, realised how stupid it sounded. Anyway, it was obvious West didn't.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. "I remember everything clearly; apart from when I was knocked out," he clarified.

Aware that he was going to have to drop a bit of a bombshell on his friend, Gordon said, "I think we'd better head back to the train. It'll be easier to talk there."

"But hadn't we better deal with Shawcross first." West was obviously puzzled.

"Jim, I don't feel like I can ask for your trust at the moment. You'll soon find out why," he added as his partner started to protest. "But believe me when I say that Shawcross has been dealt with and we can forget about him."

"Alright," West said, not believing that he could ever misplace his trust in Artemus Gordon, and turned his horse in the direction of the railroad. As they rode together Gordon was aware of West glancing at him every so often, presumably still a little stunned by his being alive.

Back at the train once again, both men took the opportunity to freshen up and change their clothing. Then, after a late breakfast of scrambled eggs and coffee, Gordon broached the subject that was weighing heavily on his mind.

"I'm sorry you had to go through what happened last night," he said. "In my defence, I only did it so that things would go back to the way they were."

"Artie, what are you talking about?"

"Hearing himself addressed as 'Artie' made Gordon realise that he truly had his friend back. Yes, last night had been worth it; now to deal with the present.

"This morning, when you came to in that basement, it wasn't Shawcross you saw; it was me."

"You? What on earth did you think you were doing?" Then after a moment's reflection, "you gave me an electric shock!"

"It was only a small one. I thought that the fear of being back in that basement with Shawcross would restore your memory, and it worked."

West thought about this for a moment then decided he'd never had cause to distrust his partner before, in fact, trusting him had often saved his life "Well, it did cure my headache so I'll overlook that for now. You keep saying I lost my memory. Maybe you ought to tell me what's been going on."

"After Shawcross kidnapped you, he used his electrical apparatus to make you lose your memory. Then he moved you to a different house, in a different town, and made it look like it blew up and he rescued you. The worst part was that he pretended to be me, thinking I was already dead."

"How come you're not dead, by the way, no, don't tell me, bullet-proof vest, am I right?"

"Yes but I knocked myself out on a rock."

"Clumsy!"

Yes, well, anyway, after you disappeared, Colonel Richmond thought our assignment might be linked to the Collingwood rubies so I left for Charles Town and took Collingwood's place."

"How is Simon, by the way?"

"Fine, he's in Washington at the moment."

"Washington?"

Gordon briefly explained about his plan to transport the rubies and capture Shawcross. West was surprised he couldn't remember any of it. Gordon was careful not to mention anything that reflected badly on his friend. If he didn't remember getting drunk then that was probably for the best.

"And Shawcross, you said we didn't have to worry about him.?"

"I contacted the Sheriff's office in Charles Town. Shawcross and his men were arrested and they're sitting in gaol as we speak."

"And his wife?"

"His wife?"

"Yes, Amelia is his wife, not his sister."

"That figures. Evil attracts evil." Gordon noticed the distaste on West's face. "Aw, you kissed her didn't you?"

West shrugged. "You know me."

"Yeah, anyway, there's a warrant out for her arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder. She could have killed you when she sent you through that window."

"Maybe it's a good job I don't remember."

"Aren't you worried about forgetting the last few days?"

"I don't see that it makes that much difference. You'll be the one writing the report so I don't need to know the details and if you don't mention my memory loss then I won't either. I'd probably feel foolish if I ever found out what I did, anyway."

Gordon nodded. His lips were sealed on that.

That night the train made an unscheduled stop due to a small landslide. The brakes were applied as slowly as the engineer dared but still there was a loud sound of metal dredging on metal which made West sit up in bed. As the train came to a sudden halt he was first thrown forward and then back, where he hit his head on the solid wood bed-head.

"Ow!" He leaned forward, with his hands over his head, aware of a dizzy feeling overcoming his senses. When his mind cleared images began reappearing in his memory but they came in an orderly sequence, lined up like soldiers and, like a general, he inspected each of them in turn. There was the hotel room in an unknown town; how could he have thought Shawcross was Artemus?..Then there was Collingwood who was obviously Artie. Everything fell into place including the fact that he hadn't treated his friend very well. When he considered how Gordon must have felt his reaction was one of regret, even though it hadn't been his fault.

The night he got drunk rolled into view and he cringed. That was totally out of character and he hadn't been ready for the blow to his middle. Artie had looked after him, though. Had he called him awesome? He cringed when he realised he had. And his friend hadn't even mentioned the incident, so as to save him embarrassment. He'd acted like a complete idiot.

West swung his legs to the floor, ready to go to Gordon and tell him he'd regained his memory but, as he did so, another memory came to him and he paused. There was a knock on the door.

"James, are you alright?" Gordon asked as he entered the room.

"Yeah, I'm fine except for a small blow to the noggin. What happened?"

"Boulder on the line; we'll be starting up again in a few minutes." He took in the strange look on his friend's face. "Are you sure you weren't hurt?"

"I'm fine, really, thanks."

"Alright then, I'll see you in the morning."

"Night, Artemus."

Gordon nodded and left.

West lay back down but it was several minutes before he closed his eyes to sleep.

The following evening, the two friends were dressed in evening clothes. The train was making a stopover and Gordon had arranged an evening of pleasure, including dinner and the theatre.

"James, you're going to love Tilly and Rose. I bumped into them yesterday in a ladies fashion emporium."

"And what were you doing in a ladies fashion emporium?"

"Bumping into two pretty young things, of course."

"I don't know why I bothered to ask."

"They do have a tendency to giggle a bit but I find that enchanting. They should be here any moment."

"In that case," said West, cracking open a bottle of champagne, "there's just time for a toast." He turned to fill two glasses and handed one to Gordon. "Firstly, I'd like to make a toast to Artemus Gordon, a true friend, who looked after me so well when I recently lost my memory."

The two men clinked glasses. "You're welcome, my boy," Gordon said, taking a large gulp of the delicious liquid.

"I'd also like to toast all the women we've known and loved," West continued."

"I'll drink to that," Gordon said, matching his actions to his words.

"I especially have in mind a lady called Hortense," West said, giving Gordon a sharp look.

Gordon made a choking noise as the champagne went down the wrong way.

"Yes, I'm looking forward to being reunited with my wife," West said.

"I see you have your memory back, then. Jim, you're not going to hold a small joke against me, are you? I only did it to take your mind off things."

"Do you know how worried I was, imagining myself married to some dreadful-sounding woman? But what's really weighing on my mind is the fact that I've been knocked out a total of six times since we first arrived in Remembrance and two of those instances were down to you."

"I only did it for your own good," Gordon said.

"I'll be sure to remember that, while I'm having a lovely evening with the girls," West replied.

"You put something in my champagne," Gordon realised as his vision of West wavered and he could feel his eyes become heavy.

"Yes, and that's for my own good too," West replied.

There was a knock at the door, followed by some giggling. West turned to his friend as he went to open it.

"I'll make your excuses to the ladies," he said, and then he was gone.

As Gordon felt his senses leaving him all he could think was that his friend was going to be all right, and he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

The End