Jim nodded and took his leave of the President. Hurrying as quickly as he could, he tried to catch up to Artemus. Jim reached the train and jumped off his horse and allowed the crewman to take him. He walked through the train hoping to find his partner. Jim finally reached the parlor car and quietly opened the door to see Artemus deep in the files; tears streaming down his face. Jim noted, unhappily, yet another almost empty bottle of whiskey beside his friend.

"Hey pal, you want some help going through those?" Jim tried to sound calm. Artemus quickly wiped his eyes and took another long pull on the bottle.

"No thanks, Jim. I think I need to do this alone."

"But you're not alone, pal. I'm here and I want to help you get through this."

"Not this time, Jim. I can't explain it but this is just something I need to do alone."

"All right but remember I'm here if you need to talk or anything. I'll go make us some dinner," Jim smiled weakly, Artemus merely nodded.

As Jim cooked their dinner he heard his friend slip past the kitchen and enter his room. Jim frowned but kept his comments to himself. When dinner was finished he took a tray into his friends room only to find him asleep with a report spread out on his chest. Jim left the dinner tray on the sideboard and took the report and neatly put it back together and set it on the table beside the bed. He put a blanket over his friend and watched him sleep for a bit. He noticed Artie's pained expression and wished his friend would let him in. I can't say that I would do things any differently but I hate it when he won't let me in. And I really hate it when he won't let me help him. Jim went to his room hoping the morning would bring a new day and a new and refreshed outlook in his partner.

Jim woke and got dressed and went in search of his partner. He frowned when he saw the note on the table. Jim, I need to find Tucker and have a talk with him. I won't do anything stupid…just try to talk to him. Maybe his father or mother told him something that will help me remember that day. Be back later, Artie P.S. we're out of whiskey Jim frowned at that last comment, Artie on a binge was bad enough but Artie on a binge while going through this ordeal would be a nightmare. Jim quickly saddled his horse and rode off in search of his partner, a feeling of dread knotting his stomach.

Artemus found young Tucker poking at a meal in a small restaurant. He hesitated for a moment and then he went in. Artemus slowly approached the young man and flinched when he stood up quickly, knocking his chair over.

"It's all right, I just want to talk to you. Please, sit…I have some questions I need to ask you," something in Artemus' voice made the young man right his chair and sit.

"Talk, Mr. Gordon for all the good it will do you," was the icy reply.

"Just hear me out…if you still want to kill me when I'm done then I will go to my grave knowing that I at least tried to make some sense of all this."

"I have tried to remember your father but I can't…I just can't. I went to the President's office and got the files regarding the battle at Shiloh and I've read them a dozen times over. Nothing rings any bells with me. I have no memory of that last day at Shiloh. Did your father write you a letter or anything telling you about what might have happened before he…" Artemus let the sentence trail off.

"How convenient for you, Mr. Gordon. My pa is dead and you don't even remember him!"

"I truly am sorry…I had typhoid fever…they say I was lucky to live. I guess I must have blocked out some of the memories from that day. All I can say is that I'm sorry…I'm truly sorry."

"Well sorry just isn't good enough, Gordon. My ma gets a pittance from the government in place of my father but it isn't the same. Ma misses pa something terrible. She goes on the best she can…but it's been hard…real hard. My ma was once the prettiest lady this side of the Atlantic…but now she's only a shell. A shell of who she used to be."

"You didn't just kill my pa, Gordon, you killed her too. I want to see you die for this!" he shoved his chair back and stormed out of the restaurant.

"Not as much as I want to die right now, son," Artemus whispered as he left.

Jim arrived at the train hoping to find Artemus waiting there for him. His meeting with the President had taken him much longer than he had anticipated and getting back on Artemus' trail had been harder than he thought. He pulled his horse into his stall and was shocked to find Artie's horse gone. Jim left his horse saddled, just in case, and headed to the parlor car.

When he entered the room he was amazed. It looked as though it had been ransacked. Files littered the table and floor; books had been dumped on the floor. He crossed to the desk and became alarmed when he spotted the note his partner had left him. Jim, young Tucker was right…I am pretty certain I am to blame for his father's death. There is one more person whom I think I might be able to talk to that just might be able to shed some light on this for me. I know you don't want me going off alone but don't worry. I had a talk with Ben today (that's Tucker's son) and I think we both came away with something to think about. I did find out he's staying at the Canal House oddly enough right across from the White House. I'm going to take a ride and I hope come back with some answers I should return within a few days. Don't be too mad at me, pal. I have to do this…I have to know. We'll talk when I get back. Artemus

Jim but his lip to suppress the scream of rage that was threatening to come out like the water from a geyser. A thought came to him and he quickly sent a telegram…surprised when he received an almost immediate response. He quickly wrote the response down and tapped out his reply and acknowledgment, grabbed his coat and hat and headed back to town.

Early the next morning, Jim stood outside the door to room number 14 at the Canal House. He lifted his hand and knocked on the door, hoping to find its occupant in. He heard a rustling sound and the door slowly opened. The man stared at him waiting for him to speak.

"Are you Ben Tucker?" Jim asked knowingly.

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

"My name's James West. You know my partner, Artemus Gordon. I'd like to talk to you about him if I may."

"You can talk all you want it's not gonna change anything. I'm still gonna kill Mr. Gordon," the young face glared back at Jim.

"Can I come in?" Jim gently pushed on the door, "This probably isn't a conversation you'd like the whole town to hear."

"Sure, fine, whatever…" Tucker held the door open and Jim entered the room.

He took a seat in the only chair and waited for Tucker to sit on the bed. After he finally decided this man wouldn't go away until he said his piece, Tucker sat on the bed and stared defiantly at Jim.

"How old were you when your father died?" Jim began.

"I don't see what that has to do with anything but I was seven, Mr. West."

"Seven is pretty young to understand a lot of things. Did your mother ever explain what happened to your father to you?"

"My ma told me everything I needed to know. She told me not to blame Mr. Gordon…that he only did he job. She told me my pa had a real hard head sometimes and some of the things he said about Mr. Gordon weren't true. But my pa wasn't a liar! He wasn't!" Tucker rose off the bed and began to pace.

"No one is saying your pa was a liar, Ben. All I'm asking is for you to hear Artie's side of it before you make a big mistake," Jim pleaded.

"I heard his side of things. The man claims he has no recollection of that day. He is hiding behind the excuse that he was sick," Tucker spat.

"And you don't believe him?" Jim questioned.

"Hell no, I don't believe one word of it. Would you believe a man when he tells you he can remember every detail of a battle and he can remember hundreds of wounded he tended to but he can't remember one man in particular? I find that a little too convenient."

"War is strange. It affects different people in different ways. Artie WAS very sick with typhoid fever. He treated hundreds of wounded men the best he could. He isn't a doctor…he wasn't prepared to treat your father but he didn't have a choice…"

"He didn't give my pa any choice about living or dying so I don't see no need to give Mr. Gordon one," Tucker was pacing again.

"Ben if you won't listen to me will you at least listen to the General your father put so much of his faith in?" Jim had risen and grasped Tucker's arm.

"In case you hadn't noticed that General is now the President of These United States. How the hell can you get in to see him let alone get him to talk to me?" Tucker glared, daring him.

"Simple, we go across the street and we ask him. That is why you chose this particular hotel isn't it? You were hoping to get a chance to see Grant…" Jim glared back at the young man.

"Yeah, I guess so…but what makes you so damned sure he'll see you. I've tried to see him every day for the past week."

"Let's just say I have a way of getting things done. Grab your coat and hat and let's go…the President is a busy man and he doesn't have all day."