Arte wondered if Jim was looking for him. In the long run it didn't matter, he wasn't going to last. It was too cold, his injuries too serious, and his mind was growing dim. Memories from his life were passing through his consciousness, like a series of moving images. Arte didn't have many regrets, but there was one that stood out: he wished he had told Jim how much he meant to him. His heart felt great sorrow over that.
He heard a scratching sound. Or at least he thought he did; but maybe he was imagining it. No, the scratching had transformed into a grinding. It sounded like two blocks of ice being rubbed together, and he thought he heard voices.
Jim must have found him!
His voice was a weak whisper,
Suddenly there was light by his feet, and Arte had to slam his eyes shut from the brightness. Cautiously he opened them, and saw blurry faces coming into view. He could hear them talking, but didn't recognize either voice.
Is he still alive?
I don't know. It doesn't matter....he's not our problem. Now come on, let's get him and get out of here, it's damned cold.
Arte's lips kept forming one word, over and over:
*********
Upon inspecting the Arte's injuries, Sorsby was astounded that Gordon was still alive. The hired hands who worked for him were neither the brightest nor the best, and they had neglected to tell him how much damage had been inflicted upon the agent. But then, it didn't really matter. Artemus Gordon only needed to stay alive long enough to garner West's cooperation; after that, he was merely a loose end that needed tidying up.
**********
Pushing a gun into Jim's back, Partnow led West up the broad staircase of the house, and into a small room, Sorsby right behind them. Jim's heart nearly stopped when he saw the pale body lying on the bed. Arte's face was almost grey in color, his lips slightly blue from exposure.
Jim moved over to the bed in a daze of swirling emotion. He swallowed hard as he sat in the chair, the deep cut in Arte's forehead striking fear in Jim's heart. Carefully, he pulled down the blanket covering his friend, and his breath caught at the sight of Arte's battered body. His left arm was broken, and possibly a leg; but worse than that were the bruises covering his partner's chest and abdomen. Arte had taken a blow of great magnitude, as if he'd gone head to head with a freight train. Jim closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself.
He carefully covered Arte with the blanket, and for a moment sat perfectly still. The shock of his partner's condition was slowly sinking in. He drew in a deep breath, then gently, he took Arte's hand in his own. It felt as cold as death.
Jim's blue eyes filled with moisture, his voice barely a whisper, Arte? I'm here, buddy.
There was no response.
Jim massaged Arte's hand, trying to warm him, Come on Arte.
He heard Sorsby's voice bellow behind him, Time to go, Mr. West. You've seen that your partner is alive. If you want to keep him that way, you will do as I tell you.
Tenderly Jim set Arte's hand down, and placed it under the blanket. Then he turned toward Sorsby, his eyes on fire.
You son of a bitch.
Jim took a threatening step in Sorsby's direction, but froze when he heard a trigger cocking.
Don't do anything you will regret, Mr. West. If you're dead, who will save Mr. Gordon?
Jim fought down the bile in his throat. Arte looked like he wouldn't last the hour, much less long enough for Jim to get him to a doctor. He shot a murderous look at Sorsby. All Jim could feel in that moment was blind hatred.
Sorsby was cool, You're wasting time, Mr. West. If you move quickly, you can catch the next train to Washington.
And then?
Tell President Grant to convene his cabinet.
I don't give orders to the President of the United States.
No, I don't suppose that you do, Mr. West; however, Grant trusts you completely. If you tell him it's urgent that you speak with them on a matter of national importance, he'll do it. All you have to do then is smash two vials together on the floor; the gas will do the rest. I have a mask for you that will keep you quite safe from harm. Partnow and his men will secure the White House, and prepare for my arrival.
And then you'll appoint yourself President...
Not exactly President....I was thinking more on the lines of Emperor. Sorsby grinned at West, You'd better get going.
And if I don't?
The madman nodded to Partnow, who went to the bed and grabbed Arte's broken arm, causing Arte to scream in pain, Then you can watch while we kill Mr. Gordon one piece at a time. And I promise you, we'll make it most painful.
Partnow pressed down hard on Arte's chest, and once again a howl of agony filled the room.
All right, all right, Jim's face turned ashen, just leave him alone.
At the very least, he needed time to think of something. Secret Service Agent James West was not about to kill the President and his cabinet. He would allow both himself and his partner to be destroyed before he would be a party to a coup d'etat. Jim tried to calm himself, then he looked back at Sorsby.
May I please have a moment with my partner?
Partnow and Sorsby stepped into the doorway, still within observation range. Jim went to his friend and ran a soothing hand across his forehead and through his thick hair.
You have to hang in there, Arte.
There was no response.
Jim continued to stroke his partner's forehead softly,
Gordon groaned in pain and his lips tried to form a word. Jim put his ear close to Arte's mouth, and he heard his partner whisper his name.
I'm here, buddy.
He felt a weak tug on his jacket, and he grasped the hand reaching for him. Water flooded Jim's eyes as he watched his partner struggle to breathe.
Shhh, Arte, easy. I'll be back as soon as I can. Be here when I get back?
Jim squeezed the hand in his, hard, Promise me, Artemus.
West fought to keep the moisture in his eyes from falling,
--Too much pain. Jim....
Jim's voice was quiet, and colored with resignation, I know.
Sorsby, sickened by the entire display grew impatient, yelled from the door, Let's go, West.
Jim turned to leave, but the cold hand in his held on. The soft brown eyes were staring at him, and appeared to be lucid, the fear in them more prominent than anything else.
Don't leave me, Jim.....don't want to be alone when it comes.
Jim knew meant death. He had to look away. Artemus was immediately sorry he had voiced his own fear. Jim had enough to handle, and Arte knew his job was to make it easier somehow. An idea entered his fevered mind.
Aware of their audience and in considerable pain, his voice was a whisper, My.....pocket watch....
West looked on the nightstand and saw that Arte's watch had been placed there, he picked it up.
His voice matched his partner's hushed tones, I have it.
The fob.....open it....
Jim turned the watch fob in his hands. After a moment, he saw a seam, popped it, and the compartment opened. Inside there was a small vial of liquid. He took it out and held it in his hand. Arte's eyes softened as he saw understanding dawn in Jim's blue ones.
No choice now, Jim.
Arte held Jim with the intensity of his eyes, waiting for the full meaning to come. It did.
Jim, I'm dead already.
The emotion was etched in West's face, I can't.
Jim, please....
Do it.
Jim's eyes filled with moisture. The fear he felt for Arte's life was suddenly the only thing in the room with him.
Arte prodded, Do it now.
With a shaking hand, Jim gently poured the liquid between Arte's lips, and watched in horror as his partner swallowed it. The tears slid down Jim's face in silent sadness. Using his remaining strength, Arte reached up with his good hand and wiped them away. Jim grabbed the hand and pulled it to his chest in a gesture that spoke louder than words.
Arte's loyal baritone lilted gently, Safe travels, James.
Jim couldn't find his voice. He squeezed the fragile hand in his and simply nodded. He felt Arte pressing something into his hand; it was the watch fob. They exchanged a look, and Jim slipped the fob into his pocket. Overcome by his emotions, Jim quickly brushed the back of his fingers against Arte's cheek, and headed for the door.
West turned, trying to sound business as usual, Yeah, Arte?
You're the best friend I ever had.
A lump formed in West's throat, and he could barely speak, Yeah, me too.
Jim forced a smile at Arte, filled with a confidence he didn't feel. He knew his eyes betrayed him, but before Arte could comment, West left the room. Partnow and Sorsby were waiting for him.
Sorsby smiled, Ready, Mr. West?
Yes, I am.
To be continued....
