Chapter 7

Quarrels would not last long if the fault was only on one side.

—François Duc de la Rochefoucauld (1613-1680), French philanthropist and social reformer

Jim was already in bed when Artie entered the room. When Jim spoke a greeting, his partner just nodded, and went to gather up his blankets again. Jim sat up. "You're not going to go sleep on the sofa again! Artie, that's…"

"No. I'm sleeping on the floor outside Lily's room."

"You're what?"

Now Artemus turned. "It occurs to me that the two women who have been killed were single women, sleeping alone in their room. Lily and Ruth are also alone in their rooms. I don't want to take a chance that we have a madman who is targeting lone women, that it has nothing to do with Gladys's behavior or anything else."

"I never thought of that," Jim said slowly.

"Neither did I, until this evening. I don't want to take any chances. Good night."

"Artie, wait. We need to…"

"Tomorrow, Jim." He went out the door and closed it firmly behind him.

Jim stared at the door a long moment, considered going after Artie, then lay back down. It's my fault. I should have made him listen to me, told him why I was doing what I've been doing. I shouldn't have expected him to read my mind, not when he has Lily to worry about. Tomorrow we'll clear the air before it goes any further. I hope it's not too late.

He thought about Artie's rather extreme reaction to the situation, and other times came to mind. Lyle Peters had told him how Artie reacted when told that his partner, whom they believed dead, was likely to be labeled a traitor. "He went off like a firecracker," Peters said. "He was going to prove your innocence in any way possible… even if it cost him his life."

And then there's me. I was ready to kill Sanchos because I believed he had murdered Artie. Jim had often reflected on that moment, and realized that had he actually killed the man, shot him down in cold blood, he would have been haunted later, because Sanchos had not killed Artie. He had believed he had due to Galiano's scheming. Instead Sanchos had been killed by the knife he intended to use on the agent.

But it shows we are both liable to go off half-cocked, lose our bearings, so to speak, if someone we care about is harmed, or is in danger of being harmed.

W*W*W*W*W

Secundas res splendidiores facit amicitia, et adversas partiens communicansque leviores.

[Friendship makes prosperity brighter, while it lightens adversity by sharing its griefs and anxieties.]

—De Amicitia (VI) Cicero (Marcus Tullius Cicero; often called "Tully" for short; 106-43 BC), Roman philosopher, statesman, and orator

Artie was unsure which was the more uncomfortable, the too short and lumpy sofa or this hard floor. Probably just as well if I don't sleep soundly. I hope my theory is very wrong. It would require us to change all of our tactics in this investigation. No longer would the motive be Gladys's malicious behavior with regard to the other members of the acting company, but that someone simply wanted to kill women!

He knew that tomorrow was an important day. He had been told that the two stagecoach drivers were going to try to ride into the nearest town tomorrow. They would undoubtedly bring the local law back with them, and the case would be out of the agents' hands. Artie also knew that he needed to talk to Jim, and should have been talking to him all along.

It's like my head was somewhere else, and I guess it was. My head, and my heart, were with Lily. I don't think I have been thinking of anyone else. That's why I've been so irked with James and his supercilious behavior, acting like a police detective with no connections to anyone involved. Well, at least, in the end, Lily can be angry with Jim, not me…

Artemus Gordon sat up, his mouth open with the astonishment of the revelation that just smacked him in the forehead. He threw the blanket aside, did not bother pulling his boots on, but hurried down the hall where he opened the door to the room he shared with Jim West. Quickly he crossed the room and grabbed Jim's shoulder.

"Jim, wake up!"

Jim roused instantly, sitting up and reaching for the small pistol resting on the bedside stand. "What's happened?"

"Nothing except I suddenly came to my senses and realize I owe you a huge apology."

"An apology? What for?" Jim did not want to jump the gun, just in case Artie was not talking about the same thing he was thinking about.

Artie made a circle in the darkened room. "All I could see was that you were making Lily look guilty to everyone else despite what you believed. That you were following procedures, without considering the people involved."

"I was."

"Yes, and you were right to do so. I was of little help there, and I guess you understand that. But James, it just occurred to me that quite probably the main reason you were behaving so was to deflect Lily's potential anger from me to you."

Jim bit back a smile. "You really think I'd do something like that?"

"Yes, I do, pal. And I'm grateful. Very grateful. Lily will be too when she's aware. And so I'm apologizing for thinking all sorts of bad things about you."

"Such as?"

"We won't go into that. We have to work together, Jim. We have to talk and compare notes."

"I agree. Now?"

"No. Tomorrow will be time enough. I don't want to leave my post too long."

"So you're sticking to your madman theory?"

"It's only that, Jim, a theory, and we both would feel like hell if I was right and we didn't do anything about it."

"Want to take shifts?"

"No, I'll be fine. See you in the morning. Good night, pal."

W*W*W*W*W

Mais l'innocence enfin n'a rien a redouter.

[But innocence has nothing to dread.]

—Phedre (III, 6), Jean Baptiste Racine (1639-1699), French tragic poet and dramatis

Jim awakened just as the sky was showing a glow on the horizon. Although he had lain awake a long while after Artie's visit, pleased that his partner had finally grasped what was occurring, he now felt he would not sleep any more, so climbed out of bed. He shaved and dressed, making sure he put the small pistol inside his jacket.

Stepping out into the dim hallway, the pile of blankets that was his partner's bed was quite visible. He walked up quietly. Artie was sound asleep. Noticing some light emanating from under the door, Jim leaned over and tapped on it. After a few seconds the key turned and the door opened a crack. Jim quickly put a finger to his mouth then pointed downward.

Lily opened the door wider. She was fully dressed and obviously had been awake a while. For whatever reason, she had not retrieved the pitcher of water, which was now sitting by Artie's head. "What in the world?" she whispered.

"Your night watchman, ma'am," Jim returned with a grin. "Shall we wake sleeping beauty?"

"I'm awake," Artie grumbled. "How can anyone sleep with all this yelling going on?" He sat up and pulled on his boots, then let Jim grasp his hand to pull him to his feet.

Lily watched in wonder. Gone was the tension she sensed between the two men earlier. She was eager to learn what happened, but did not ask. Jim suggested they sit in Lily's room and talk awhile. But he decided to go get some coffee for them first. He knew the Gaines would be busy in the kitchen.

"Artemus…" she said as soon as the door closed behind Jim.

"Lil, I was a stupid fool. I didn't take time to think. It suddenly occurred to me last night that Jim was deflecting your anger. He was willing to take the brunt of it instead of allowing you to be angry with me."

"Oh. Oh! My dear! I would never have been angry with you, or Jim. I knew you were both doing your job, and I understand the situation. But how lovely of him. I will thank him… when the time comes."

Artie knew what she meant. When the real killer was identified. "You know that Ballou and Stack are going to try to make it to town today," he said then. "I have a notion they won't be back until at least tomorrow. Tonight at the earliest."

"And they might bring the local law officer."

"Exactly. Which means we had better get this straightened up as soon as we can. I think that's Jim's idea. We need to sit down and go over every thing we know and see if something jumps up that no one has realized yet."

Lily sat down on the edge of the bed. "Even if… if I'm taken to the local jail…"

"Jim and I won't stop working on it. That's a given. But it'll be much easier if we are still all together, rather than scattered to Denver and beyond." He sat alongside and put his arm over her shoulder. "And we will, my dear. The answer is there, staring us in the face. We just have to pull our blinders off."

Hearing the murmur of voices, including Jim's, out in the hall, Artie rose to go open the door. Jim was in conversation with the two stagecoach drivers. He wished them well then turned toward the open door as Ballou and Stack headed for the stairs. Jim was carrying a tray with three steaming cups of coffee, a small coffeepot, and a plate of buttered toasted bread.

"Mrs. Gaines wanted to add jam, but there just wasn't enough room on the tray," Jim said as he placed the tray on a small table Lily quickly cleared. "I think this will do until we can get down to breakfast."

Lily mostly listened as the two men started reviewing everything they could recall noticing from the moment they arrived at the inn. She winced when Artie repeated her ill-chosen comment about Gladys Norwood's throat. Artemus pointed out that he had thought Mrs. Garber was too far away to have heard it, when she actually did.

"I wonder if she repeated it to someone else," Artie mused.

Jim lowered his coffee cup. "That's it! That must be what she wanted to tell me and didn't have opportunity."

"What do you mean, Jim?" Lily asked.

"Mrs. Garber told someone else about your comment. That someone else could have seized on it as the perfect opportunity to kill Gladys using that very method."

"And then killed Mrs. Garber before she could reveal who she told," Artie concluded.

"Any of the people at the table last night could have heard her speak to me. If only Ruth had not interrupted, or Mrs. Garber brushed her off. I suppose she was afraid even then to make too much of a scene."

Artemus sighed. "So close yet so far. To whom did Mrs. Garber talk after overhearing the remark?"

Jim suddenly stood up, so swiftly as to almost slosh his coffee out. "Ruth!"

Lily looked up at him. "Ruth?"

"That first evening—that's what I've been trying to remember! I saw her sitting with Mrs. Garber and they seemed to be in a serious conversation. I didn't think anything of it, figuring they were discussing our current situation, being snowed in."

"Oh, Jim, it couldn't be Ruth. She couldn't kill anyone. She wouldn't try to make me look like a murderer. She's my friend!"

Artie had been thinking hard and now he stood up as well, though not quite as swiftly. "The powder."

Now Jim was puzzled. "What?"

"The powder on Gladys's bed. We assumed it was hers, but what if it was on the murderer."

"Oh, god," Lily moaned. "Ruth was so pale that morning. In the dim hallway, I just thought she was near fainting because of discovering the body. But she could have whitened her face with powder!"

The two agents looked at each other. "We will need more proof than speculation that Mrs. Garber told her about Lily's words, and the powder," Jim said. "We need the knife."

"I think we should search Ruth's room again."

"And we'd better have Judge Slayton present again. We can let him in on it."

Artemus left to fetch the judge. Jim turned to Lily, who now had tears in her eyes. "We could be wrong, Lily."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. It all adds up. That morning Gladys was killed, remember? Ruth wanted to be the one to leave the breakfast table and go 'wake' her. I think she entered my room, took my robe to Gladys's room to smear it with blood, brought it back, and then started screaming. She must have put the face powder on first so that some spilled on the bed while she… did that."

Jim smiled slightly. "You make a good detective."

"I just don't know why she would do such a thing!"

"Perhaps we can persuade her to tell us. We'll search her room. If we find the knife, that will be evidence enough."

"How could she have done the… the murders without getting blood all over herself?"

"Good question. We didn't find any bloody garments during the first search. She hid them well."

When Artemus and the judge arrived, the three men went to Ruth's room. Artie had paused downstairs to ask Mr. Manchester for the passkey, so he used it on the door. Although they felt they had done a thorough search the previous two times, today they literally sifted through everything. Taking garments from the wardrobe and dressing table piece by piece, lifting the mattress, looking under furniture.

Nothing was found. No knife. No bloody garments.

They returned to Lily's room where Judge Slayton had a suggestion. "From what you say the murder weapon is like, if it is the knife stolen from the kitchen, it might easily be secreted on a person. Under Miss Gwinn's skirts, for instance."

"I could search her," Lily offered, then shook her head. "No, I guess that's not a good idea."

Her fiancé smiled. "Thanks for the offer, but you are right. Not a good idea. Judge, I suggest you go down to the parlor and bring up Miss Gwinn and Mrs. Hynes. I'll fetch Mrs. Gaines."

"Mrs. Gaines?" The judge repeated the name.

Jim nodded. "I think that's a good idea. Mrs. Hynes is not likely to become hysterical, nor will Mrs. Gaines. And they are both strong and healthy women in case Ruth becomes… unnerved."

"What shall I tell Miss Gwinn?" the judge inquired. "Mightn't she get suspicious?"

"How about that I'm feeling ill and I asked for them?" Lily suggested.

"Good idea. Mr. Gordon, you'd best go first so that they don't see you downstairs when we emerge from the parlor."

"Yes. I'll stay back until I see you and the two women well up the stairway."

W*W*W*W*W

Neque enim lex est aequior ulla, quam necis artifices arte perire sua.

[Nor is there any law more just, than that he who has plotted death shall perish by his own plot.]

—Ars Amatoria (I, 655), Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso; 43 BC-c. 17 AD), Roman poet

Haidee Gaines was surprised but willing. "That nice Miss Gwinn? Are you sure, Mr. Gordon?"

"No, we're not absolutely sure. But some things seem to add up. We need to search Miss Gwinn's person, and are asking you and Mrs. Hynes to do it."

She looked toward her husband, who just shrugged, then peeled off her apron. "Well, if this helps prove she didn't do those awful things, then I'll help."

As they reached the base of the stairs, Artemus saw Judge Slayton, Ruth Gwinn, and Mae Hynes just at the top of the stairs, turning toward Lily's room. Artemus took the cook's arm as they ascended. "All you'll need to do is ask Miss Gwinn to raise her skirt to make sure the knife is not hidden there, and then perhaps pat around the area of her midriff and… elsewhere. However, experience tells me that if she has it on her person, it's attached to her leg somewhere."

"Oh my," Mrs. Gaines muttered. "I've been cook here since the inn opened, and never has anything like this happened."

"I know. Let us hope and pray it never happens again."

By the time they entered the room, Jim and the judge had informed Ruth of the true reason she had been asked to come upstairs. She must have believed the story of Lily feeling ill. However, now her face was livid, eyes burning.

"How dare you! I know what you're doing! That Secret Service agent…" she pointed to Artemus as he entered, "… wants to frame me to protect his sweetheart!"

"Nothing of the kind," the judge replied firmly. "Mr. West and Mr. Gordon have pointed out several items to me that indicate you could be implicated. We searched your room again. Now we wish these ladies to inspect your person. If you are not hiding anything, you have nothing to fear."

Now Ruth spun toward Lily, who had positioned herself some distance from the group, not wanting to give the impression she was going to be involved in the search. "You! You always have your own way! You took my place in the company! I should have been the next star!"

"Ruth, I have no idea what you are talking about. Nothing was mentioned about replacing you when I was hired. I was under the impression I was replacing Isabel Lowery."

"First it was Isabel!" Ruth ranted, waving her arms. "Then Grace. Then you. That stupid Grace didn't even know you displaced her. But I should have been the one. I have given my all to this company. Twelve years! Twelve years!" She had lost all control now, and perhaps any vestige of sanity.

Jim glanced at Artemus. So the motive was envy. "Ruth," he said quietly, "please allow Mrs. Gaines and Mrs. Hynes to search you, and this will all be over with."

Ruth whirled toward him. "I'm not going to allow them to touch me! I don't have to. You can't make me!"

"Actually they can," the judge spoke firmly. "They have evidence enough to show cause."

Artemus thought the barrister was overstating it somewhat, but Ruth stared at Slayton for a long moment. Then she shook her head. Her voice was quieter, but the fury continued to glow in her eyes. "You're lying. They couldn't have found anything. It was perfect."

"Not perfect, Ruth," Artie returned. "You made mistakes. Every criminal does."

She stiffened. "I am not a criminal! I'm just taking what is rightfully mine, the star of the company."

"So you murdered Gladys, using Lily's unfortunate remark against her," Jim suggested.

Ruth's smile was ugly. "It was perfect. Perfect! You couldn't have found anything to incriminate me. Lily is going to hang for it and I will be the lead actress of the company. It's my due!"

"You killed Mrs. Garber because she was going to tell me she repeated Lily's comment to you."

"You can't prove that either. Mrs. Garber is dead."

"So if we cannot prove anything," Artie said with a shrug of his shoulders, "you will have no objection to being searched."

Ruth Gwinn appeared to have momentarily forgotten the reason she had been brought upstairs. She stepped back, and found the wardrobe behind her. Jim saw the desperation start to grow in her eyes.

"Ruth, just allow Mrs. Hynes and Mrs. Gaines to search you and it will all be over."

"No!"

Her screamed word filled the room as Ruth abruptly lifted her skirt, displaying well-formed stocking clad legs. But no one noticed that. She swiftly reached down and seized the thin-bladed knife that was held against her calf by elastic garters. As her skirt fell and the knife lifted, she waved it menacingly.

"Stay back! I'll kill anyone who tries to stop me."

"You have nowhere to go, Ruth," Artie said gently, moving so that he was in front of the two women who had come to perform a civic duty. "You can't get far in this snow."

"Oh yes I can! I'll lock all of you in here, and get Francis to help me. We'll take horses and be long gone by the time you are free to pursue me."

"Francis won't help you," Jim reminded. "You killed the woman he loved."

"Bah! He loved me. He still loves me, now that she's gone. Tell them, Lily!"

Lily was startled. "I know he was always fond of you, Ruth. We all were. You were friends with everyone. You are my friend."

"Francis loves me! I know it! And he'll help me. We'll join the company in Denver and you and Gladys won't even be missed." She giggled a little. "Dear Gladys didn't know how much she was helping me when she drove Grace away. One less to deal with. And then this wonderful snowstorm…" Ruth seemed to shake herself mentally. "Don't anyone move!"

Jim was closest to the door as she began to edge toward it. He watched her closely, waiting for that moment when her attention might be diverted just enough that he could move. She held the knife out threateningly, and Jim was aware that he could get cut when he grabbed for it. He also knew he had to try. If she got down to the parlor and confronted Francis Ogilvie, bad things could happen.

"Ruth, think this over," Artemus said, eyeing his partner out of the corner of his vision. Jim was going to make a move, he knew, and getting Ruth's attention his way might help. "You don't want to hurt anyone else."

She glared at him. "I'll hurt anyone who tries to stop me from getting what I want… what I deserve!"

With that she turned and moved swiftly toward the door. Jim acted, and as she pulled the door open, he grabbed at her arm. She shrieked and brought the knife around. Blood spurted from Jim's right arm and his hand loosened.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Jim gritted, grabbing the cut with his left hand. "Get her!"

"Ruth! Ruth! Stop!" Artie yelled as he dashed out into the hallway. He saw her running toward the stairs, trying to lift her skirts out of the way. She did not succeed.

With a scream, she fell forward at the head of the stairs, her feet tangled in her long skirt. Artie could not get there in time to help, only to watch her tumble head over heels down the staircase. He raced down, and pretty much knew he was too late as soon as he reached her. She lay very still.

As curious guests piled out of the parlor, the Gaines and Mr. Manchester came from the lobby and kitchen, and Jim and the others descended the stairs, Artemus knelt and carefully turned the unmoving woman over. Etta Downs cried out and turned into her husband's arms. The knife Ruth had stolen from the kitchen, the one she had used to cut the throats of two women she considered threatening, was now projecting from just under her breasts.

Artie felt for the pulse as Jim reached him then looked up, shaking his head. Francis Ogilvie and Jonathan Earle were there, leaning over.

"What happened? What happened?" Francis demanded. "Ruth…!"

Artie got to his feet. "She's dead, Francis. Ruth killed Gladys and Mrs. Garber. When we confronted her, she panicked and fell down the stairs. You can see…"

"'Justitia suum cuique distribuit,'" Jonathan said softly. He glanced around to see the confusion on some faces. "Cicero. 'Justice renders to every one his due.'"

"It would seem so," Mr. Manchester muttered. "My Lord. I never would have thought…" His words trailed off.

"Are you sure, Mr. West?" Caleb Largent asked.

"We're sure. We were fairly certain when we took her upstairs. Confronted with being found with the weapon on her person, she…"

Artie took it up as Jim seemed to lose his train of thought, staring down at the dead woman. Artemus knew Jim had liked Ruth, had often chosen to spend time with her when the two agents joined any social event where the acting company attended. "She broke. That's the only way to describe it. She killed Gladys and framed Lily to get them out of the troupe, believing she would then be moved up into the star role."

Ogilvie's eyes widened. "Why would she think that? She did not have star quality. She knew that."

"She didn't believe she couldn't be a star," Lily said, holding onto Artie's arm. "Somehow, over the years, she felt cheated. I'm so sorry I didn't realize."

Judge Slayton spoke firmly. "Don't anyone start blaming themselves. I've seen enough criminals of all sorts—and I'm sure Mr. Gordon and Mr. West have as well—to realize that the majority of them have only themselves to blame. It's easier for them to say that others caused their problems, were the reasons they resorted to drastic measures. They can lie and manipulate all they want. In the end, it is on their heads only. 'Justice renders to every one his due,' as Mr. Earle so rightly quoted."

W*W*W*W*W

Envy lurks at the bottom of the human heart, like a viper in its hole.

—Honore de Balzac (1799-1850), French novelist

When Ballou and Stack returned with the local sheriff the following morning, they as well as the lawman were surprised to learn that three bodies were now in the cellar room, not two. The sheriff had come on a large heavy sledge drawn by two draft horses. He reported that a snowplow was coming out from town, but he was unsure if it would reach the inn before the next day.

"I never saw so much snow!" he complained.

But he listened to the two agents and the judge as they explained the occurrences in the inn, talked to other witnesses, and came to the conclusion that Ruth Gwinn was indeed the murderess. "Kind of fitting that she caused her own end. It'll save a nasty trial, or even worse, hanging of a woman." With assistance from others, the three corpses were placed on the sledge to be taken to town right away.

Francis Ogilvie told the sheriff that he would arrange for the burials of both Gladys Norwood and Ruth Gwinn. Artemus could see that the company director was still experiencing guilt where both women were concerned. He and Jonathan talked about it and the older actor said he was going to attempt to convince Francis to take some time off, go visit his brother in Florida, as far away from the cold-driven memories as possible.

"I can handle the troupe. I have before when Francis went off for one reason or another."

Earle also said he would assure that Ogilvie knew he had to take more care in hiring replacements for the two deceased actresses. "Talent and personality. Both are important. We have a fine family in this company, and Gladys came close to ruining it because of Francis's infatuation."

Matters became more relaxed in the inn once the sledge started back toward town. Caleb accompanied his sister, to arrange for her burial in the churchyard in town. He would then go back to Denver to inform his niece and nephew of their mother's tragic end. "I'm going to invite both of them, and their families, to come live on the ranch, now or anytime. It's going to be theirs one day anyway," he informed Jim and Artemus.

More work was needed to clear the snow in the area, and it was while clearing a path around the house that Jim and Isaac Hynes found two bloodstained petticoats covered by snow almost directly under the window of Ruth Gwinn's room. Another puzzle solved. Lily, Mrs. Hynes and Mrs. Downs had spent time packing up the rooms of Gladys, Ruth, and Mrs. Garber, and had not found anything that indicated having been used as a shield against the blood of the victims.

"She threw them out the window," Artie said, shaking his head when told. "Of course. So simple. She assumed they wouldn't likely be found until the thaw, and by then their grisly purpose might not even be recognizable."

"And if we hadn't had this extra time to fill waiting for the plow," Hynes offered, "we might not have gone so far as to clear that area."

By the time the snowplow lumbered by the inn the following early afternoon, all the guests had packed their belongings and had them stored in the stagecoach in which they would be riding, one going north, the other south. Because space was now available in the actors' hired coach, Jim and Artemus were invited to ride with the four remaining members. They tied their horses at the back and willingly accepted.

Stopping in town was necessary to finish the legal business, as well as to use the telegraph there to inform Washington what the devil had happened to the two agents who disappeared off the map. A short wire also was sent to the train. As well, Ogilvie needed to contact his other company members who had preceded them to Denver, plus talk to his friend for whom he had promised the special performance, assuring him that the next time the troupe was in the area, they would fulfill the pledge. While Jim and Ogilvie went to the telegraph office, Artemus and Lily sat with the sheriff to write out a report of the incidents at the inn. When Jim returned he signed the report as well.

The trip to Denver consumed longer time than it might have on a clear summer day. Some stretches of the road had not been cleared by local residents, or only partially so. Because the drive was so stressful and fatiguing, both Jim and Artemus took turns up on the box to relieve Burl Ballou, who gratefully rested in the coach.

The slow journey allowed for some talking. At first the recent tragedy was not discussed, but eventually it had to come up. Surprisingly, Francis was the one to open the conversation. He told them that he had not realized it until lying awake that last night in the inn, reviewing the events in his head, but he now knew he had not truly been in love with Gladys Norwood.

"I believe now that my infatuation was due to her remarkable resemblance to my late wife, Anna. It was a physical resemblance only, however. Gladys was nothing like Anna in personality. But I guess I hung onto her, perhaps believing that somehow I would remake her over into Anna. When Gladys was killed it was… it was as though I had lost Anna again. The pain was unbearable."

He agreed with Jonathan that he should take much more care in hiring actors from now on. "I think I did not do too badly prior to Gladys." He smiled toward Lily, who smiled back and patted his hand.

All four members of the company admitted that they had seen nothing in Ruth's behavior over the years to indicate her envy and unhappiness. "Somehow she just expected that when an actress left the troupe," Carlyle mused, "she would be next in line for the lead position, when she should have spoken to Francis about it."

"So much would have been avoided," Lily sighed.

Epilog

Neque est ullum certius amicitiae vinculum, quam consensus et societas consiliorum et voluntatum.

There is no more sure tie between friends than when they are united in their objects and wishes.

—Oratio Pro Cnoeo Plancio (II), Cicero (Marcus Tullius Cicero; often called "Tully" for short; 106-43 BC), Roman philosopher, statesman, and orator

Upon finally reaching Denver, the actors went to their hotel to meet their fellow troupe members, who were filled with curiosity regarding what had happened, having only been told that two of their group were dead. Jim West and Artemus Gordon went out to the rail yards where the Wanderer was waiting, where their crew greeted them warmly.

"Until the day you sent us the telegram," Orrin Cobb said, "that wire was clicking constantly, with Colonel Richmond asking where the devil you were!"

Cobb also told them that not all the tracks east were cleared yet from the snow. "Seems it snowed even more in Nebraska than here, if you can believe that. So we're going to have to layover another day or two."

That news suited Artemus just fine, and he suggested that they invite Lily for dinner the following evening. Jim agreed to that. They still had a lot to talk about, things that were not necessarily relevant to the case.

Lily was delighted to accept the invitation, and Artie took a hack to her hotel to bring her back to the train. Jim immediately assured his partner that he had watched the chicken in the oven carefully and it had not begun to char. "Only a little singed," he teased.

While Artemus was finishing dinner preparation, Jim and Lily sat on the sofa with glasses of wine. She took his free hand.

"Jim, I want to thank you again for what you did at the inn."

He looked at her blandly. "Solve the murders you mean?"

"Well, you helped with that, certainly." She smiled teasingly. "But taking on the investigation, especially when I was the main suspect, lest I experience any anger toward Artemus."

Jim looked down at his glass. He did not like to talk about such things, normally. "It just… seemed the right thing to do."

"I cannot honestly say one way or another how I would have felt if Artie had seemed to believe my guilt, at least officially, as you did. And I don't know how it would have affected our relationship. Most of all, I am delighted I did not have to worry about that… because of you. James, you are a wonderful friend to both of us."

He looked up now. "I think you and Artie have done me a favor a time or two."

Lily did not pursue it further, knowing the reticent James West did not like displays of emotion. However, when they were all seated at the table, she lifted her freshly filled glass.

"To Artemus, the sweetest sweetheart a woman could have, and to James, the best friend any man or woman could have."

Jim grinned. "You left out one, Lily." He lifted his glass. "To the bravest woman I know."

"Here, here!" Artemus cried. "Now eat before the feast gets cold. Or it starts snowing again."

"Bite your tongue!" Lily and Jim said in chorus.

The play is done; the curtain drops,

Slow falling to the prompter's bell;

A moment yet the actor stops,

And looks around, to say farewell.

It is an irksome work and task;

And, when he's laughed and said his say,

He shows, as he removes the mask,

A face that's anything but gay.

—The End of the Play, William Makepeace Thackery (1811-1863), English novelist, satirist, and critic

THE END