Part Three

At first Artie thought he was still on the Wanderer, the gentle rocking of the train lulling him into a deep, untroubled sleep. However he never remembered his bed being so hard or his back ever being so stiff from napping on one of the plush sofas, and to make matters even more suspicious there was a constant dripping on his forehead from some unknown water source. The Wanderer never had a leaky roof before. The most unnerving fact that completely woke his mind up from it's groggy state was that his entire body was numb, save for the fact that he could barely open up his eyes.

He did so struggling, finally widening his eyes fully only to see nothing but black in front of him. The next thing he needed to do, he added to himself with an inward groan, was sit up. His body was still completely without feeling; he could barely turn his head let alone shift his own weight up. But he did so anyway, taking his time to deliberately stretch what his body could handle to the limit before almost collapsing back to the cold ground. The slope of the ground he was on was rather sharp and he more than likely would have rolled further if not for a rock that his body had probably slammed into. He approximated that it took him at least three quarters of an hour to simply prop himself up; he didn't want to think about how long it would take him to walk again.

It was around the same time that he realized he could feel his toes that he began to experience something…otherworldly. Sounding like it was above him, a crying sound softly made it's way down to where Artie sat. However it didn't remain soft as more voices joined in, their woes echoing throughout the large chamber where he was being kept, bouncing off the solid walls so that they completely surrounded the government agent. They resonated all around him so that Artie felt that they sat beside him crying and screaming into his own ears for help. Some pleaded with an unknown God for something to put them out of their misery, some had undistinguishable murmurs, some cried for a savior, but all of them, their bouts of pain and suffering, heart wrenching coughing and crying nearly drove Artie to tears himself. Yet this wasn't all that Artie played witness to. Below him came such a foul stench that he had to fight off the reflex to gag and retch the whiskey from the previous night. He had recognized the smell before, once one was subjected to something like it one never could forget. It lingered on the soles of shoes and the hands of surgeons; too often it had lingered on himself.

He knew he needed to head in one direction or the other, no longer could he linger in this limbo. Now Artemus had one of two options, the first being to head downhill towards the rotten smell, the other to climb upwards to the desolate sound. By this time he had figured out that he was in some sort of cave and that there was a light source up ahead; the decision after that came pretty easily. Half-blinded, half crippled, Artemus Gordon crawled to what he hoped would be the mouth of the cavern.

The wailing got closer and the sobbing more intense, Artie's hands growing red and raw from dragging himself over the rocks. Around half way the feeling in his legs began to come back and with it came another familiar smell: blood. He paused and began to lift himself to his feet, wondering where the blood happened to be coming from but then continuing on towards the pitiful noise, every step drawing him closer to what he was sure would be a way to get out of this predicament. His footsteps were heavy and deliberate as he was sure he would loose his balance and tumble the rest of the way back down into the deep. Fortunately he made it to the small light source; unfortunately what awaited him there only wanted to make him wish he had still been unconscious.

In front of him was the entrance to the cave, completely caved in except for small pockets of light that streamed through in beams and lit up patches of the floor and walls. The wailing had subsided momentarily as Artie stared down at the souls trapped with him behind the rocks, grabbing on to the stone side in an attempt to both keep himself balanced and catch him from the shock. The scene couldn't have been any more hellish if it had been written by Dante himself; people were strewn across the ground like simple dolls, arms and legs broken, heads bleeding, faces pale and thin from malnutrition. Some huddled together for warmth, their ragged clothes barely staying on them as most were nothing but skin and bones. They looked like corpses at first until one started moving ever so gradually towards Artie, the others looking on with sorry, sallow skin.

"You're alive." It croaked upon reaching Artie. It was a man, probably once good looking and handsome, now reduced to a mere shadow of himself. The corners of his mouth were bleeding, his lips cracked and dry, his hair gone in patches from the top of his white scalp, and his eyes yellow and deep into the sockets.

"W-who-" Artie tried to address the man but was too overwhelmed to do much other than stand there.

"Gregory T. Masterson." The corpse introduced haggardly. "You're a government agent, sent to help us no doubt. We thought you were dead."

Artie couldn't put together a coherent sentence for he was too busy staring at the "us" Mr. Masterson had been talking about. They barely lifted their heads in acknowledgement and the corpse seemed to realize this. "I was the last one to come here before you." He explained. "They can barely talk, let alone get up. It's been days, even weeks for some since we've had anything to eat or drink. I can still get up and walk, but only for a little bit. I'm afraid I must sit down now though."

Artie helped the man sit down in the light without saying a word, he was still trying to rid the shock from his mind.

"You can't be the missing fourteen." Artie finally said, his voice quiet. "There's only seven of you here. Where are the rest?"

He searched the eyes of the seven, some turning away so as not to meet his. The groaning and moaning continued, but was considerably softer since Artie's entrance. It was Masterson who finally answered him with a simple gesture of pointing his bony hand. Artie followed the pale hand with his head, ending up staring down into the abyss from where he came. Masterson didn't explain, a girl who had been in the corner decided to speak for them. She held another person with knotted brown hair in her lap, petting the girl's head absentmindedly as she choked back tears.

"Dead." She whispered. "Five of ours dead. We buried the first two under rocks. Too weak to bury any more. Couldn't take the smell so we, we-" Tears began to stream from her face but she continued, still clutching the girl with the brown hair to her. "We pushed them down the hill."

"Oh god." Artemus muttered, eyes tearing themselves away from the dark and locating the two mounds that held the other bodies.

"Sheriff brought you in, like all the rest. He pushed you in, you were drugged." Masterson continued. "But we're too weak, so weak. Forgive us."

"Forgive you for what?" Artie asked, pleading with the man to continue further. Masterson's eyes finally met Artie's, the orbs filling with sorrowful tears.

"We let you roll down the hill to join the others."

Artie was solemn, not able to meet the eyes of the others. He touched his head and understood why he had smelled blood; it was his own springing from the cuts he had suffered from his roll down further into the cave. He couldn't address that last statement, this sight was too much already. "So they brought you in here and left you here to die." He reiterated to himself.

"Seems that way." Masterson replied, his focus on the rock pile. Artie nodded his head towards the so-called collapse. "That's how they got us all in here. The top isn't covered that well, that's why we still have the light." Masterson explained.

"They pushed us through a hole at the top and let us fall." The girl told him. "Then they cover it up with a bolder so we can't get out."

"Not that we could before. None of us are strong enough to lift that rock off the top. Hell, we couldn't even climb to the top. We're broken and bruised and deathly weak." Masterson said the last part in such a light voice that Artie had to strain to hear him. "We're all bleeding and starving to death."

Artie's eyes raked across Masterson until he stopped at the man's feet; he was barefoot. Artie suddenly noticed that none of them sitting there were wearing shoes, belts, or gloves. The girl seemed to have noticed this sudden confusion and grinned harshly and pathetically. "We ate them Mr. Agent." She sighed. "When you're hungry anything looks good."

"Even human flesh, but we haven't resorted to that yet." Masterson said as he searched Artie's face. "What is your name anyway?" He inquired.

"Artemus Gordon." Artie told him. "I was sent here to investigate the disappearances. My partner James West and I-" Artie gasped suddenly and stood up. "Oh God, Jim!" He cried. "Jim's probably been captured as well!"

"Relax, you're partner's fine. He's not here, right?" Masterson pointed out.

"Something could have happened to him, you don't know for sure." The girl retorted, a resolute answer but delivered in a weak voice.

"Ignore her." He told Artie. "This town doesn't do murder, hence why we're all stuck in this cave. Heaven forbid if they got any real blood on their hands."

"I have so many questions…." Artie murmured to himself. "But first thing's first," he said, lifting his head to the top of the cave, "We need to escape."

"It's impossible Mr. Gordon." The girl said doubtfully. "We've tried everything. No one can do it."

"Impossible you say?" Artie mused, hands on his hips as he surveyed the best route for climbing up the mass of rocks. "I've succeeded in worse odds."

The next hour was practically laborious for Artemus Gordon. He definitely had more strength and capability to scale the collapse than the others, but once he got to the boulder he found that this sudden energy was ready to give out on him. There was no way that he could lift the boulder, it would have taken two men to do that job. Yet Artie was never without tool kit up his sleeve and as it so happened the sheriff and his lackeys hadn't confiscated it when they were searching for weapons. So he pulled out his small pick, grabbed a rock beside him, settled himself on top of the pile, and began to chisel away at the boulder.

"Can I help you Mr. Gordon?" Masterson had called up to Artie.

"I want everyone to move away from the space underneath." Artie told him. The corpse-like man below nodded and began to shuffle as best he could the women and one other man away from the danger zone. Unfortunately, Artie later mused, he could have waited a few hours before actually warning the people below. The process was tedious and the make-shift chisel worked only so well which meant Artie was pretty much stuck up at the top of the collapse breaking small pieces off of the rock until the light beams began to fade into night.

Masterson, as Artie soon found out, had been acting as the events organizer for the saloon. The rest of the saloon workers ran for their lives, Masterson being the last one condemned to die by the town before Gordon had been thrown into the mix. He had gone to the local post office and typed the very same telegraph that Washington DC had received before the sheriff had caught him and put him down there with the others, catching wind of the forbidden telegraph and therefore knowing of the two government agents before they had even arrived. Artie also learned an extremely vital piece of information from Masterson, something that destroyed every hypothesis Jim and himself had concocted.

"What do you mean there's no gold vein?"

"You heard me. It was all just a big hoax." Masterson sighed. He had climbed up halfway and sat below Artie, watching the dark haired man work with a sense of awe on his face.

"Why would a town make up a story about a gold vein?" Artie wondered. He lowered his arms and stretched; his neck was beginning to grow stiff from looking up for so long.

"I'm sure you've heard of the three-"

"Yes, yes. The three families. The Shaws, the Tenny's, and the Timony's. I hear they rule this town." Artemus said impatiently. After stretching out his arms for a good while he picked up his tools and began to work on the rock again, making the most of what little light he had left. He wasn't sure if he would be able to continue chiseling all tomorrow as well, especially taking into the fact that he was bleeding from the head and hadn't eaten anything all day.

"They do more than rule this town; they own this town. They're filled with power hungry people; they became bored with the small town life. So they began to place ads in newspapers and in city journals for families to come out to the west to Holy Oak."

"But I'm guessing that didn't work out so well for them." Artie supposed.

"And you'd be right Mr. Gordon." Masterson congratulated him. He smiled which silently disturbed Artie; he looked like a grinning skull.

"Let me tell you what I think and then tell me if I'm right." Artie said. "The three families, tired of the same old boring town, decide to spice things up by taking in new people. Unfortunately no one wants to move out to a small practically no-name place, so the town makes up a ploy that gold has been discovered on the outskirts. However the they didn't plan on having so many 'undesirables' move into the neighborhood and began to pick them off one by one as a warning to outsiders."

"Mostly correct." Masterson said. "But we're not the only ones who were thrown down here."

Artie paused for a minute to think before he spoke. "Prospectors too?"

"Mmhm." Masterson replied. "Only they didn't have any family to report them missing. They went looking for the gold and were led here."

"And then someone knocked them out and threw them down the hole."

"Right Mr. Gordon." Masterson nodded. "We took care of them but they all died anyway. We only tried to bury our own, but even that got so difficult for us that we didn't even bother. But there's still something that you missed."

"Yeah? And what's that?" Artie asked, still working away on the rock.

"They didn't expect a person like you Mr. Gordon." The girl added, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

The light had been gone for a few hours now, Artie only having climbed back down after he accidentally hit his thumb with the rock and not the pick. He sat next to Masterson and was offered a small sip of water that had been collecting in a pool from the dripping ceiling. Exhausted and hungry, he gratefully took the sip of water from a metal belt buckle and settled himself against the craggy wall in order to wait for the sunlight. Although he wasn't the most comfortable he'd ever been before, Artie managed to fall asleep pretty quickly.

He was woken up by the sound of someone screaming in the morning light. It was the girl who had been talking with him letting out the ear piercing screech, her hysterics echoing through the cave just the same as the cries for help had before. Artie and Masterson stood and went to see what was the matter: the brunette that she had been caring for in her arms was dead.

"Another one." Masterson mumbled, closing the thin skin of his eyelids in remorse. Artie checked the brunette's pulse and upon finding none gently shut the girl's eyelids. "Can you?" Masterson asked Artemus, which he took to mean "Can you roll her down with the others?"

"No." Artie said sternly, lifting up the corpse. She was so light and malnourished that Artie almost thought he was carrying a rag doll. He placed her on a secluded patch of ground carefully, handling her like she was still alive, and smoothed out her tangled mop of brown hair. "No more discarding the bodies." He said, standing up and heading towards his tools. "I'm getting you out of here today."

And with that said Artie climbed back on top of the rocks and continued his chiseling, determined to break that damned boulder no matter what.

Hours later and there was a notable difference in the size of the rock. Artie was pretty sure that he could lift it now, if only there was some way to make sure that Jim was all right. He could get the remaining six out after he headed into town and found the Wanderer, but the steps in between were a little hazy for him. He knew the chain of command within this town, unfortunately it seemed like everybody worked under the three mysterious families. Yet he knew who his target was for the time being; he wanted to make the sheriff pay for the grievances and the deaths caused.

He wasn't a fan of violence, but today, under these circumstances, he wouldn't mind beating the sheriff into a bloody stump of a man.

The mere thought alone had somehow increased Artie's work effort, he could see the cracks in the stone much more clearly now. "Everyone get back!" He called down to the starved whores and managers.

Tossing down the pick and rock he stepped underneath the boulder and began to push, feeling the full weight of the stone being thrown against his back. The blood throbbed in his ears and his heart pounded but Artie pressed on, the friction of the former boulder and it's restraining walls causing him to cry out. He felt the rock start to slip from his grasp and pushed even harder on it; there was no way he was going to give up now. Finally he felt the rock tip on to the side of the collapse and saw it disappear over the side of the hole, the unobstructed sunlight pouring in from the rather large opening.

"He did it!" The girl yelled with joy. "He's our savior!" Small shouts of happiness and tears of joy were shed below him as Artie began to climb out, tumbling over the side as the fresh air hit his grateful lungs. He paused there for a moment and then stuck his head back into the hole. "Masterson!" He called out.

"Yes Mr. Gordon?" Came the obviously celebratory voice of the man below.

"I'll be back within an hour. You can trust me on that!" Artemus promised. He didn't like the idea of leaving those poor people down there, but he couldn't get them all out alone.

There was a pause, some silence followed before anyone spoke. "Mr. Gordon, we do trust you. Now go!" Masterson shouted up to him.

Artie needed no further instruction; he got to his feet and ran as fast as he could towards town. There had been a carved out path the sheriff and his men had used which brought him right to the station, and there resting at the platform was the wondrous sight of the Wanderer. He didn't even bother to slow his pace as he approached the train, Artie kept at full sprint until he finally reached the caboose. Pulling open the door with such fierce force, he entered the train and began to search for his partner.

"Jim! Jim!" He called out. It had been hard to get use to so much light; even at that moment his eyes were still settling themselves. "Jim; God, please answer me!" He said, a little more desperate edge to his voice.

Suddenly from behind he heard a door open and out stepped James West, newly shaven with a towel around his neck. "Artie?" He asked, a bit surprised by this sudden appearance from his friend. Relief at finding Jim unharmed swelled through his body and the two days of being drugged, starved, tortured, and bloodied finally took their toll as he fell to his knees.

"Artie!" Jim yelled, driving in order to catch his friend before he hit the ground. "Artie, good God what happened to you?" He asked in a worry filled voice. Jim's hand went to the towel around his neck which was then placed gently on his friend's head wound.

"Didn't you notice I was gone?" Artie asked, more than a little surprised by his friend.

"I did but the whole town was telling me that they saw you leave." Jim explained, lifting his heavier partner on to one of the sofas.

"You didn't believe them, did you?" Artie asked, giving Jim the best 'are you kidding me' look he could muster at the moment.

"Of course not." Jim replied, running over to a pitcher of water. He poured the water into a bowl and took the tablecloth right off of the table, dipping it in the liquid and running back over to Artemus. "I had them believe I did. In the mean time I went looking for you everywhere. I knew you wouldn't just leave, that's not like you."

"Appreciate you taking your time out to shave for me." Artie grinned, his usually self right back into action.

"Don't. I really was troubled." Jim warned, his stern face completely overpowered by his worried countenance. "Artie," Jim asked, kneeling over his friend while he administered some much needed medical attention, "What happened? Did the sheriff do this to you?"

Artie nodded and pushed away Jim's hand as he tried to sit up, Jim lowering him back down. "Dammit, just sit still! You do this to me all the time." Jim cried, but Artie couldn't just lie about and wait for another person to die down in that cave. "I'll explain what happened on the way." Artie informed him, struggling out of Jim's grasp.

"On the way where?" Jim inquired, still on his haunches overlooking the sofa.

Artie carefully walked over towards the bowl of water and stuck his head in it, taking a long drink. When he pulled his face out and wiped it on the towel that had been on his head he responded, "Grab some rope and the horses and you'll see."

End of Part Three

Epilogue

The story ended much like it had begun. The townspeople continued to give them weird looks, but only because an entire US cavalry unit had been called in to put a stop to the sheriff and the other heads of town. With the controversy exposed and the story on the lips of every American the three families went belly-up and the town was pretty much left to it's own devices. Artie, while he didn't exactly get to 'bloody up' the sheriff, was more than happy to see him get transported to the nearest fort for a trial and more than likely a death sentence. The six surviving people were rescued from the 'gold source' and promised a large portion of the town for their ill-treatment, Artemus insisting that Jim and himself stay in town to make sure they all were nursed back to good health.

"Artie, did you file that report yet?" Jim asked. It had been more than three weeks since the conspiracy had been uncovered, the Wanderer still on track at the little town of Holy Oak. By now the town was bustling again, only this time with reporters from the east and more government workers than the sheriff could have possibly imagined.

"Yes, just sent it." Artie called back to him. Once again he stood in front of a mirror trying to straighten out his blue cravat. Once he finished his slipped on his jacket and made his way towards Jim, accepting the glass of bourbon his partner had poured him.

"So we'll be heading out after this, right?" Jim wondered, downing the bourbon in one shot.

Artie nodded and pretended to drink the alcohol, but truly he wasn't in the mood for it and later dumped out the rest outside the train. "Come on." Artemus called, "I don't want to be late."

The duo walked out of the Wanderer and towards the gathering crowd in the local cemetery, Jim grabbing Artie's shoulder just before they got to the wooden gates. "God Artie, you spent all that time worrying over your cravat and it's still crooked." Jim muttered, fussing around with his friend's tie. Artie merely smiled and let Jim worry over him; it was a nice change of pace.

When the cravat was fixed Jim grabbed Artie by the shoulders and stared at him, taking a long look at the small white bandage still visible under his hat and then at the various cuts and bruises that adorned his companion. "You know," He muttered, voice wavering. Instead of continuing on with the sentence he pulled Artie into a tight embrace, rubbing his friend on the back as Jim managed to express his silent gratitude to the unknown force that kept Artie away from harm.

"I know." Artie said as they broke the embrace. "I know."

They continued on towards the funeral in silence, standing around the coffin across from Masterson himself, looking much more presentable with shoes on his feet and a hat covering his balding head. It was a quiet and solemn memorial and when it was over flowers were thrown on the simple wooden tomb. The two paid their respects, Artie lingering a little longer over the grave of the brown-headed girl, and then started walking back towards the train.

Someone grabbed his arm gently and urged him to stop. When Artemus turned he was standing with the girl from the cave, still pale and gaunt but alive and well nonetheless. She was smiling up at him. "Mr. Gordon." She said.

"Oh, hello." He smiled, overjoyed to see her beautiful face cleaned up and rosy in the light.

"I'm going back to New York." She told him. "I've given up this saloon business. Gregory-uh, I mean, Mr. Masterson and I are opening up a restaurant."

"That's wonderful." He replied. "I'm sure you two will be very happy."

"We owe it all to you, you know." She said with a blush. She grabbed his arm and pulled Artie down close enough in order to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, my savior." She whispered into his ear. With a giggle she let him go and went to join Masterson, the two waving at Jim and himself as they resumed their journey to the train.

"Well," Jim muttered as they pulled out of the Holy Oak train station, "Where to next?"

The End