Jim stared up into the stars. It was a particularly clear night. Clear, and cold. Where was he? How long had he been here? It was supposed to be daytime, wasn't it? Then he remembered what happened, and he realized he had been unconscious for most of the day. He let out a slow breath of air, while he gathered in his racing thoughts. He started by moving his neck; it felt sore, but it was still attached to the rest of him. Slowly he moved his arms, but the left one wouldn't respond. He tried to move his legs, and he realized that he couldn't feel them at all.

Jim shivered. He was hurt pretty badly, he was alone, and he had been out cold all day. The situation couldn't be much worse. He swallowed hard, thinking of options. He could lie there and hope that someone found him in the morning, but that seemed like a waste of time, and West wasn't sure how much time he really had before the circumstances became grave. The second option was to yell for help; that was probably the quickest way to attract assistance.

He opened his mouth to yell, and couldn't make much of a sound. A deeper breath, that's what he needed. Jim inhaled, and cried out in pain. So much for yelling. Option three: his horse, if the bastard was still around might be of some use. He mustered a little air and a tiny whistle. Not loud enough, and West knew it. He'd just have to deal with the pain. He took in a larger breath, cringing, and then whistled louder. No sign of the horse. For all he knew, his horse might have fallen, and was lying dead somewhere below him. Jim rallied, took another painful breath and let an even louder whistle fly.

He heard a neigh on the cliff above him. Straining his neck, he could barely make out the black gelding.

His voice was barely a whisper, You damned horse....

The horse whinnied at him again. Bracing himself against the pain, Jim took in more air, and then let out three short whistles. The horse's ears twitched and he stared down at West. Jim repeated the call, and the horse neighed, his head bobbing up and down. A moment later, the horse took off at a full run, and West hoped it was back toward Paulden......

***********
Artie had felt guilty all day, and now he couldn't sleep. He had been a shit, and he knew it. His heart was hurting, but Artemus Gordon understood all too well that such a state gave him no right to take it out on someone else, much less someone as sweet as Noreen. Artie rolled onto his side. In general, he had been behaving like a spoiled child, and he realized it. He had been selfish, insensitive to those around him, and worst of all, he had behaved boorishly toward his best friend. Artie felt sick with remorse.

Slowly he got out of bed, and began pacing. Back and forth, and back and forth. Yes, Lily had hurt him, and yes, he still loved her; but that didn't mean he had to throw away his entire life in an effort to escape a feeling that was as much a part of life as anything else, no matter how difficult it was to get through each day. And yet, he wasn't sure he could overcome it. Artie sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped forward. He had aged twenty years in three months, and he felt every last inch of it.

But there comes a moment in every man's life, when he either accepts defeat, or he fights like hell to move forward. Artie had never acknowledged defeat, until now. He looked at the ghostly reflection of himself in the mirror: this man who had swallowed defeat was not him. He stood up, and walked closer to the image that stared back at him with hollow eyes. Artie leaned on the dresser, examining the face he once knew so well. This man was vacant, cut off from his emotions, whether sorrow or joy; this man was unkempt and uncaring about himself or anyone else. This man was not him.

A rage began to boil up from his gut. A rage so fierce and primeval, it overtook Artie in seconds, and before he knew what he was doing, he had smashed the apparition in the mirror with his fist, glass shards and blood flying. A heartbroken sob escaped his lips, the power of it sending him to his knees on the floor. He barely heard the knocking on his door, or the voice calling to him.

Mr. Morgan? Mr. Morgan.....are you all right? Please answer me....

Artie couldn't move. He remained on the floor, looking up at the ceiling and grieving for the death of a love so profound, it had almost destroyed him. The door opened, and Noreen came into the room. From the moonlight in the window, she could see the man sobbing on his knees in the corner. She ran to him, kneeling behind him, grabbing him by the arms.

What's wrong? Please tell me...

Artie couldn't speak. Instead, he leaned his back into her, and pulled her arms around him. Noreen held him, rocking him slightly; then she noticed the blood on his right hand. She leaned into his ear and whispered gently to him.

Your hand is bleeding, I should look at it.

He shook his head, pressing into her, his voice raspy, Please just hold me.

Noreen tightened her grip on him, and leaned her face against his, Shhh......it's okay.

He whispered, I loved her so much.

I know. Tell me what happened.

Artie didn't think he could, but after awhile, slowly, he began to tell Noreen about Lily. And slowly, his heart began to feel lighter......

***********
The black gelding raced into the small town of Paulden. The moonlight shimmering across his coat made him look almost blue. He stopped amidst a whir of dust in front of the stable. He whinnied, but there was no one around to hear him......

***********
Noreen sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her hand in slow circles on Artie's back. His injured hand was wrapped in a white bandage, and he felt more at peace than he had in three months.

Feeling a little better?

Artie's voice was low from relaxation,

Noreen moved her hand up to his thick, unruly hair, running her fingers through the curls.

What did you do before you came here?

Mmm...that's complicated.

Why complicated?

Artie lazily rolled over and smiled at her, I was just a working stiff....

She continued running her fingers through his hair, So you had a steady job....

An impish grin that she had never seen before, curled his lips, You could call it that....

Artemus.......you are infuriating.

He smiled his most charming smile at her,

Their eyes locked, and he suddenly realized how beautiful she was, and noticed the way she was looking at him. He swallowed uncomfortably. Noreen leaned toward him, and lightly pressed her lips to his. Artie hesitated to respond, and she pulled back.

I probably shouldn't have done that....but I've wanted to for awhile.

He brushed her face with his hands, Noreen, you're very beautiful.....

But you wouldn't dream of taking advantage of me this way.....

He nodded, but continued to caress her face with his hands. He was nothing if not a mixture of signals to her. Noreen had always trusted her instincts, and her instincts told her that the truth was in his actions, not his words. Slowly she leaned toward him again, and gently brushed her lips on his. After a few gentle kisses, Artie opened his mouth to her, pulling her close to him. He broke from her and looked into her eyes, his breath warm against her lips.

I don't want to hurt you, Noreen--

She put a finger against his mouth, silencing him, I understand what this is about, and that you can't stay.

The deep brown eyes looked quizzically into hers, and she whispered to him.

Just accept the gift I'm offering, and don't question my motives.

The dark eyes melted into pools of moisture as Noreen pressed herself into him, kissing him deeply....

***********