The train pulled onto a side track at the outskirts of Denver in the wee hours of the morning. James West was already awake. He stepped out of the parlor car and onto the rear platform. Drawing in a deep breath of cool air, he admired the tall pines. His thoughts turned to Arte. There hadn't been a word from him in almost a week, and it weighed heavily on Jim's mind.

He watched the sun as it slowly peaked over the mountains, revealing all the beautiful colors of spring. The ground was a deep green, with pink, blue and gold flowers adorning it here and there. The sun brushed an intense orange sprinkled with rays of yellow, against the blue sky, pushing away the last remnants of darkness. And yet, the shroud covering his heart, remained.

Jim went back inside and sat down at the telegraph key. He began tapping out the dots and dashes comprising the question that burned in his mind.

Have you heard from Gordon?

The singing from the galley disrupted the calm of the room. Jim closed his eyes. It was just another morning, the start of a mission, and another day without Arte. He sighed heavily and stared at the still telegraph. He needed to concentrate on the mission ahead. He would begin with inquiries in town, that was an easy decision; the big question was what to do with Marvin. Jim lacked any confidence in his new partner's ability in the field, much less undercover.

The door to the parlor car opened, and Solomon entered, tripping on his own shoe, bobbling the coffee tray. He took it in stride and smiled at Jim. At the very least, the man was overly chipper in comparison to Jim's pensive mood.

Good morning, Jimmy.

Marvin set the tray down, and Jim watched the man's smile grow wide. He cleared his throat, preparing to make an announcement, as though he might proclaim the cure to the common cold.

I have a plan.

West just stared: it was going to be a long day.