Artemus stared into the flames sipping his coffee, wishing it were something much stronger. He had run out of whiskey earlier in the day and his mood was turning sullen again. He was glad he had found this small rock formation, it wouldn't give him the protection from the elements that a hotel room would have but Artemus was in no mood to be around people. This rock provided him shelter from the falling snow on two sides and he had felt that was better than none.

He refilled his cup and stared into the flames trying to will his mind to recall that terrible day. Mrs. Tucker had done everything she could to reassure him that she had no hard feelings toward him; that she had understood the anger her husband was directing at Artemus was unfounded. Artemus had assured her he believed her all the while knowing he didn't. How can anyone not hate me for what I might have done? Could I have hated a man so much that I allowed him to die? Artie shook his head, grabbed his blanket and went to sleep. He had only been asleep less than an hour when it began…

"So much blood…where's that help?" Artemus moaned in his sleep, "Corporal…aren't those doctors here yet? I was told they would be here hours ago," Artemus was tossing and turning.

"Sorry Lieutenant, the Rebs have the bridge blocked and they can't get through. General Grant said to just keep doing the best you can…they're trying to sneak them across."

"Great Balls of St. Elmo's fire I'm not a doctor…I don't know what I'm doing here…" Artemus grumbled to the soldier as he tended to the wounded.

There was a commotion outside the tent and Artemus was called for. He ran to see what the fuss was about and his face lost all color. There on the stretcher lay Commander Tucker, or what was left of him. Artemus' stomach churned as he tried to examine him. His body was a bloody and battered mess. He had been in the center of a cannon ball barrage. Artemus didn't think he would live to see the next morning.

"Damn, this is bad…real bad. I don't know if I am capable of helping him. Put him in the tent I have to finish with Latimer then I'll see what I can do with him."

"Lieutenant, don't you think the Commander should be looked after first?" The soldier spat at him.

"Son, right now I have a man on that table in there that I am pretty sure will live to see morning. I don't know if I can help Commander Tucker but I know I can help Latimer…he's already open and he'll die for sure if I don't go back in there and finish what I started," Artemus returned to the operating table ignoring the soldiers glare.

"No…no…it didn't happen like that…I don't remember saying that…" Artemus cried, grappling with his dream…

Artemus sewed young Latimer up the best he could and sat down for a brief rest while the table was cleaned up and made ready for the next patient. Damn, I'm sick of this…all this blood…and for what? So one half of the nation can say it beat the other half into submission? Why can't wars be fought in a more civilized way? Artemus leaned out of the tent and threw up for what he thought was the millionth time that day before heading back in to tend to more wounded and battered bodies.

Artemus stared down at the patient, his stomach churning. If this particular patient died on his table he was certain many would call it murder. Would they be wrong? Artemus had tried to see this man as just another patient but every argument he had had with him over the past few days played through his fever ridden mind. Yes, Artemus had resented the Commander at first, maybe even despised him, but he had come to respect him as an officer and a gentleman but who would believe that?

He knew there was only one option open to him with this man…the doctor that had stopped by the tent earlier had given him a book and told him to follow the steps to the letter…something Artemus wasn't sure he could do without a few gallons of whiskey under his belt. But the doctor had told him there was nothing that could be done and there was no way this man would survive until the morning when the other doctors would get there if he didn't operate.

He propped the book open and had the shaking Corporal try to steady his hand. Artemus shook his head as he looked at the vast array of saws, hammers, chisels and other instruments he didn't even want to think about what they might be used for. He had cleaned Tuckers wounds the best he could and cut the flap of skin loose that he would use to cover the wound he was about to make. Artemus drew in a deep breath and picked up the saw that suddenly became as heavy as a granite slab in his hand.

He lined up the saw and was about to make his cut…he looked up to the face of the man he respected as much as he despised…suddenly the stern and hardened face of John Tucker turned into the pleading face of James West.

"Why Artie…why? What did I ever do to you? I thought we were friends, pal?" James pleaded with him, "Why are you going to kill me? Why, Artie, why?"

Artemus sat upright quickly, sweat pouring off him in buckets despite the cold temperatures around him. He looked around, his eyes slowly focusing on his surroundings…yes, it had just been a dream…no a nightmare. He moved to the fire and got it going again. Morning was still several hours off but for Artemus the day was beginning much like the last few…far too early. He made some more coffee and watched the flames, not daring to try to go back to sleep…the nightmares would only continue to plague him.

Jim started and sat upright. He had the feeling that Artie was in terrible trouble. He was sweating in spite of having moved away from the fire while he slept. Jim moved back by the fire, lay wrapped in his blanket next to the fire, staring into the flames. He hoped his partner was smart enough to be snuggly tucked into a nice warm bed in a hotel. Jim was mentally kicking himself…Ben had done everything he could to try and make up for the trouble he had caused but Jim felt his effort was being wasted when it was Artie he should be making things up to.

Knowing he wouldn't get anymore sleep tonight, he probably wouldn't sleep much at all until he had Artie safely home with him where he belonged, Jim stoked the fire and made some coffee. It would be daylight soon and they could once again get on the trail of his partner.

Shortly before dawn Ben stirred, the smell of coffee luring him from his slumber. He stared across the fire taking in Jim's stony face and grim expression. He knew he had to do something to make things right. He sat up and leaned over the fire warming his hands.

"Mr. West, can I ask you something?" he ventured.

"Sure you can always ask, whether or not I answer remains to be seen," came the stoic reply.

"What is so special about Mr. Gordon? Don't get me wrong I know he's your partner and all and that you are really close friends…what I mean is what is it about him that makes everybody like him but my pa?"

"I've been thinking about my pa and Mr. Gordon and the war ever since I can remember but mostly since I met President Grant and talked to him and what little you will tell me…well, it just seems that a lot of people, powerful people are going out of their way to spare him pain. I just want to know why," Jim looked at him and realization finally set in.

"Son, Artie is more than just a soldier…just a man…just an agent. He's everything to everyone. Artie does what he thinks is right and he says what he feels needs to be said. He will argue with you till he's blue in the face if he thinks you're wrong but at the same time he'll stand by your side and steadfastly defend your right to say what you want and think what you want."

"Artemus Gordon IS the ultimate person. He is what we all want to be when we grow up…just most of us never make it," Jim whispered this last comment as he pushed a twig into the fire.

"Mr. West, I don't know if you will believe me or not but I truly am sorry for all the trouble I caused. I'm especially sorry the trouble this has caused Mr. Gordon. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was in the restaurant but my damn stubborn pride kept me from telling him. Maybe if I had we wouldn't need to be here. Guess ma was right," Jim looked at him long and hard before he spoke.

"We all say things we don't mean to that's part of life…it's how we deal with the problems we create that makes us men."

"It'll be light soon drink some coffee then we can get going. I'd like to try to find Artie today if I can."

Artie saddled and mounted his horse, hoping to be back to the train by tomorrow night. He was cold, wet and miserable and he hoped being back on the train in familiar surroundings would help ease his torment. He rode down the trail seemingly oblivious to the snowflakes beginning to fall.

Near noon Artie pulled his horse to a stop to drink from his canteen, again wishing it were something stronger than water. He put the stopper back into the top and glanced up the trail. Just coming around the bend were two riders, it appeared they were engaged in casual conversation. One of the riders looked up, noted Artemus and spurred his horse into a gallop.

"Artie!" Jim shouted a smile spread across his features.

"James?" Artie questioned as Jim and Ben pulled up to him.

"Artie, I hoped we would find you but I wasn't expecting to see you out here. How did things go?" Jim asked hesitantly, seeing Artie's drawn look.

"Fine, Jim, fine."

"Then why do you look like you haven't slept in a week or eaten in two?" Jim questioned.

"Because, MOTHER, I slept under a rock last night," Artie hoped his friend would let it go but it was not to be.

"You slept…why Artie?" Jim demanded.

"I just didn't feel like sleeping in the hotel, Jim. I just want to get back to the train as soon as possible, okay?" Artie steered his horse toward home.

"Sure, pal. President Grant is most anxious to talk to you anyway," Jim grinned.

"Oh great, I suppose the Old Man is fit to be tied that I disobeyed yet another order of his…you'd think he'd be used to it by now," Artie grumped, Ben nudged Jim who nodded.

"Won't the President get pissed at you calling him an Old Man?" Ben asked.

"What can he do? Drum me out of the Service? Let him stew," Artie replied.

"Mr. Gordon…" Ben began, "I think we need to talk."

"I happen to have nothing better to do at the moment so talk away."