By Andamogirl
WWW
ACT TWO
Four days later,
Cantina, Santa Theresa, at noon
It was noon when James West and Colonel Hernandez Del Valle Santiago y Sandoval (Artemus Gordon) dressed in his impeccable uniform, monocle in his right eye and leaning on a cane, entered the cantina finding it unusually empty, except for a burly moustachioed Mexican standing behind the counter and a bulky peón sitting in a corner, nursing a glass of foamy beer.
The only sound one could hear was the big black flies flying around the room.
The man with the dusty sombrero charro stared at the two agents, finding it more interesting than counting the cockroaches running about the dirty floor under the nearby tables. On their guard, both Jim and Artie took their places at a table not far from the swinging door – to see people come in and to be able to leave easily and fast if needed.
Then Jim raised his hand and waved it. "Dos cervezas por favor," he said. Placing his hand on Jim's arm, Artie mouthed, "And tacos! I'm hungry."
Shaking his head the man behind the bar – and the flies – said, "No tacos, but chili."
Nodding Artie said a soundless, "Perfect!"
Nodding too Jim added, "Okay, one plate of chili, por favor señor." And the barman left the room a couple of seconds later.
Looking at Artie, amused, Jim said, "I suppose you don't want to eat soup or purée anymore, but something more solid like tacos and chili."
Smiling, the fake Colonel said mutely, "My throat is better, I can now eat solid things and I can't resist Mexican food. But I still can't talk."
Glancing at the Mexican still staring at them, he whispered, "Are peónes usually that bulky? He's one of Loveless's men do you think?"
Looking at the other man slowly drinking his beer – and staring at Jim and him, Artie replied, "It's possible." And his stomach growled.
The barman came back into the room, holding a bowl of steaming chili with a spoon immersed in it and placed it in front of Artie. "Buen provecho, Colonel," he said, before going back behind his counter.
He brought the two agents their beers then went back to his place again where he began cleaning glasses with a dirty rag.
His faux thick eyebrows meeting Artemus took his beer and looked at the foamy, amber liquid suspiciously. He glanced at Jim and mouthed, "Drugged do you think?"
Jim shook his head. "Why would Loveless drug us? He needs us to go to Washington. No, I don't think so, unless, of course, it's a trap to capture us in order to kill us later." He watched Artie settle his glass on the table again - intact.
Looking at his bowl of chili, Artie licked his lips hungrily. "It smells delicious," he mouthed before swallowing a spoonful of beans.
Smiling Jim said, "You know, Loveless could have drugged your chili, Artie." But Artemus ignored his remark, listening to his stomach and not his brain. Looking around him again, Jim asked aloud, "I wonder where Loveless is?"
Suddenly an all-too familiar voice came from behind the bar and Miguelito Loveless emerged from behind it, smiling. "I'm here Mr. West," he said, heading toward the two agents.
The burly Mexican peón stood up, pulling out a shotgun from under the table and he followed the little man as if he was his shadow.
Loveless frowned upset and asked, "Where is Mr. Gordon, Mr. West? I wanted him to be here with you. I specified that to Colonel Richmond."
Nodding, Jim said, "I know." Then he added, "Mr. Gordon couldn't attend this meeting. He asked me to tell you he's sorry and that you can sue him if you want, he doesn't care. He's still in Washington working with the President. He'll see you there."
Hearing that, amused, Artemus hid a smile and suppressed a chuckle too. That's exactly what he would have said to Loveless.
Loveless nodded. "I heard he served as Grant's personal secretary twice already and that the President is raving about him. According to my contacts in Washington, he spends his free time courting the most beautiful women of the capital, going from reception to reception, from ball to ball, from party to party with them and meet there with members of the Senate and Congress, with officers, ambassadors, etc. He's taken like a duck to water among those people. You are going to lose him." He paused waiting to see if James West was upset, hoping for it, but the agent remained inscrutable. He added, "Because he will soon prefer this life in Washington to that of a secret agent, much less interesting and much more dangerous."
Shaking his head, Jim said, "Impossible." Then he took a sip of beer. "Artemus and I we are partners for life. He'll come back to me."
Loveless chuckled mockingly, "I didn't know the two of you were married…" He took his place on a chair in front of the two men and looked at the fake Mexican Colonel who was glaring at him and raising an eyebrow asked him,. "Who are you?"
Looking at a disguised Artie, Jim replied, "Let me introduce you to Colonel Del Valle Santiago y Sandoval of the El Presidente Juan Nepomuceno Méndez's personal guard. El Presidente sent the Colonel here to find out what a man like you, wanted in the US for many felonies, intends to do in Mexico. I'm sorry, but he can't talk, he had a regrettable accident two days ago while on a mission and temporarily lost his voice." On that, Artemus removed the scarf he had tied around his neck, revealing the large the red-blue bruises and reddish abrasions left by the rope around his neck.
Loveless was very surprised. "Someone hung you Colonel?"
Scooping up a new spoonful of chili Artie nodded.
Jim continued, "I can read lips, so I will be the Colonel's voice. The Colonel can't talk but he's ready to listen to you."
Dr. Loveless looked at the faux-Colonel sporting a huge greenish bruise under his right eye and who was eating chili and said, "You will tell your President that I intend to read lots of books and to write my mémoires, to start with. After that I don't know… maybe conquer Mexico. I have a small army of mercenaries ready to attack Sonora…" He gave a short laugh while watching the two men in front of him exchange a worried look. He cackled. "I'm kidding. I don't know, yet. The idea of retiring is pretty new, you know. Let's say that I want to enjoy life… peacefully."
Jim pointed at the armed thug. "Peacefully? Why is he here? He looks ready for a gunfight."
Miguelito Loveless smiled. "Exactly. Pedro is here to protect me. but once I am under your protection on your train, he'll leave. You see Mr. West, my offer to President Grant is not a secret anymore and that's too bad. There are spies everywhere nowadays. Tsk! Tsk! The fact is that other countries are interested by my fabulous machines and they'll do anything to have me and them. I was almost kidnapped by a group of Russian agents a week ago, and by two British agents three days ago… I'm counting on you to protect me while traveling on your famous Wanderer. I have an important rendez-vous with President Grant in Washington and I wouldn't miss that for anything in the world – and Grant too." He glanced at Hernandez Del Valle Santiago y Sandoval and added, "I'm sure we'll see each other one day, Colonel after I move to Mexico City, because I know that I will be closely watched at first, and then when you see that there is no danger, you will let me live in peace."
Artemus grabbed Jim's arm and stood up. Then he pointed at the door, indicating that he wanted to go outside, in the street.
Jim smiled. "Please excuse me but the Colonel wants to discuss with me," he said to Loveless before following the other agent into the street.
Once outside, Artemus frowned with worry and mouthed, "Loveless is up to something Jim. I can feel it deep in my bones."
Rubbing his chin Jim said, "I know, I have that feeling too. But we have a mission, Artie, and we will carry it out, keeping an eye on our special guest, of course. We'll have to be very vigilant to avoid any problems." He placed a soothing hand on his partner's arm and said, "Nothing happened here, he didn't try to kill us, so, if you want to accompany us Artie, Colonel Del Valle Santiago y Sandoval has to disappear. But it won't be a problem for you, right?"
Shaking his head Artie mouthed a "no", then he glanced at his horse. Lockpick was stomping his right hoof on the dusty ground, huffing in discomfort. He added, "But first I need to go to the blacksmith. Lockpick needs a new horseshoe. I'll join you later."
Smirking playfully, Jim nodded. "You don't want to finish your chili?"
Shaking his head, Artemus replied silently, "Too spicy. My throat is like it's on fire. Eating that was a very bad idea and mine's better. Besides seeing Loveless ruined my appetite. I'm not hungry anymore."
Jim nodded. He knew that Artemus couldn't stand Loveless who had tried – unsuccessfully – to kill him multiple times.
He had tortured him too.
No, Artemus hated Loveless pure and simple.
WWW
Much later on the Wanderer
Miguelito Loveless entered the parlor car holding a heavy travel bag and looked around him, admiring the luxurious interior. "This is lovely, just what I love. President Grant is very generous with his two best special agents," he said. "I heard that his own train is the 'sister train' of this one and he's right now heading toward Chicago on board…" Then he flinched, regretting having said that knowing Jim West's very suspicious mind.
Closing the door behind the little man Jim said, "You heard? I bet you know everything about the President's train and his trip to Chicago was secret." He sent a glacial glare to his Nemesis. "I hope you don't plan to kill the President while he's traveling on board his train while we're busy here with you, because if that happens… I'll know it." He opened the door. "And there will be no deal anymore. And I will be more than happy to throw you out at full speed."
Not impressed Dr. Loveless chuckled. "Oh no, you wouldn't do that, first because you received orders to bring me to Washington intact, and secondly because now that you know that foreign countries want me and my machines, you wouldn't let them have them in their hands as they could use them to attack the US and win all the conflicts against our troops and conquer our country in a matter of weeks."
He smiled, watching the agent close the door again, his face impenetrable, but he knew – and enjoyed – the agent's helplessness. "Good! I don't want to kill the President, believe me. He's the only one who can 'grant' me what I want." He put his travel bag on the couch and sat next to it. "I'm very hungry. I hope you are a good cook, Mr. West. Because I'm a gourmet."
Jim grinned mischievously and replied, "I'm sorry, but I'm not a good cook, I can't even boil an egg correctly, but I'm sure you can cook better than I do. It's not a guesthouse here. If you want to eat something, you'll have to cook your meals yourself and make your bed and do the laundry." He enjoyed the little man's upset huff, and pointing at Loveless's big, black bag, he ordered, "Open that! Let's see what's inside your bag."
Loveless opened his travel bag. "Be my guest, Mr. West, it holds just what I need to reach Washington. There's no bomb inside, no poison, no lethal gas and no weapons of any kind, trust me."
Ignoring that last remark, Jim replied, "I don't trust you, never had, never will – ever!" And the secret agent searched the bag thoroughly – not finding anything unusual inside. "I'm going to search you, now," he said." And he did despite Loveless's protests and didn't find anything dangerous. "Alright, I didn't find anything. now I could lock you in the cell to be sure you're not a threat – but the President wants you to be treated like a guest, so you'll sleep in the state room, the compartment reserved for the President when he sometimes travels on board with us."
Loveless smiled broadly "I'm honored."
His face like stone Jim said, "Don't be. It's only because it's the only vacant compartment. But don't try anything tricky, I usually sleep with my gun under my pillow and I am a very light sleeper, plus I'm notoriously trigger-happy. Accidents can so easily happen…"
Suddenly the door of the parlor car opened and Artemus Gordon still disguised as Colonel Hernandez Del Valle Santiago y Sandoval entered the room brushing dust off his uniform.
Loveless furrowed his brow, visibly upset. "What are you doing here Colonel? I thought you were not coming with us to Washington?"
The fake Hernandez Del Valle Santiago y Sandoval removed his faux moustache, beard, and hat and then tousled his black wavy hair. "I am," he mouthed, narrowing his eyes vindictively. "And I will keep an eye on you, Loveless. I don't trust you."
Loveless was very surprised. "Mr. Gordon? Is that you?" Then he grinned in sincere admiration. "Once again you fooled me. You did a great job of make up on your neck too and you can now stop pretending that you can't talk, it was well played."
Jim sighed. "It's not make up, Loveless. Artie was hung at the beginning of the week. He was dead when I found him – fortunately I managed to bring him back to life, but he's not going to be able to talk for days because of that."
Stunned Loveless blinked twice. "You died?" he asked.
Glaring at his old adversary Artemus mouthed, "Try anything tricky and I'll throw you off the train, preferably into a deep ravine. I'll be in my lab." Then he left.
The diminutive man looked at Jim, falsely hurt. "I don't know what he said, but your partner doesn't seem to appreciate me, Mr. West. But he's always so emotional!"
Jim nodded. "Well, you tortured him and tried to kill him many times. I think he has the right to be emotional and hate you in that case." He paused and added, "And being emotional is not a flaw as you think but an indispensable quality to be a good actor – and Artie is the best. Besides, it's part of who he is. And I appreciate that."
Loveless stomach growled. "I'm still hungry." Seeing Jim cross his arms on his chest, he asked, "Do you have a galley here?"
Smirking Jim pointed at the door leading to Artie's den.
Miguelito Loveless headed there but came back into the parlor a few seconds later, his blue eyes opened in panic.
He was surrounded by Marmalade, Aztec and AG.
The three cats poised in predator mode were hissing and spitting at him, tails flailing with hate, swiping at him, baring pointy teeth and sharp claws.
Loveless let out a pitiful, "Help!"
WWW
Later, at night
Lying on his bed, propped up against a pillow Artemus was combing his fingers through Marmalade's thick fur as the cat was lounging on his lap, licking its front paws clean, purring contentedly. Aztec, as for him was perched on his dresser beside the lamp, grooming his short gray hairs.
Dressed in his navy striped pajamas with his neck wrapped in a white bandage covering a thick layer of Indian's ointment Artie was reading a receipt for seafood pasta in a book on Italian cuisine to keep him awake when he heard a knock at his door. "Come in!" he mouthed.
But of course Jim didn't hear him.
The door opened and Jim entered the small room, frowning in concern. "You should be sleeping like a rock Artie, not reading a book," he admonished pulling a chair beside the bed, waving his finger to accompany his stern tone.
Looking up at his partner Artie replied, mouthing his words, "You sound like my mother…"
Jim sat on the chair and added, "Good! because she asked me to watch over you, that's what I do. You can't stay awake all night long. You're worn out, Artie. Get some sleep. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on our guest." He placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. "You need rest, you look like hell." Then he reached out and took the bottle of Artie's homemade sedative which was sitting on the end table beside the bed along with a spoon and filled it. Then he brought it to the older man's lips, smiled and commanded, "Open!"
Artie chuckled. "Yes mum," he said. He swallowed the bitter liquid and let out a loud "Gaah!" before grimacing in disgust. "Yuck!"
Jim smiled. "In your bed now, Artemus." And he took Marmie in his arms who instantly nestled there, purring loudly.
Smiling too Artie complied and rested his head on his pillow with a long sigh of pleasure. He was worn out indeed. Switching to sign language he said, "Keep an eye on Loveless Jim, okay? He didn't kill us at the cantina, but he still can do it here, somehow. He's a very intelligent and resourceful man, and he hates us. Ever heard of the Trojan Horse? The Trojans were all killed by the Greeks."
Jim raised his hand and said, "I promise. Now be a good boy and sleep."
Artie didn't have to wait long before feeling the first effects: the drug was so concentrated that less than one minute later, his head began to spin rather violently and his vision became blurry.
He felt sleepy, languid, and his whole body heavy, lethargic.
Rapidly all his senses were dulled and his thoughts fuzzy in his opium-hazed brain. His vision started to swim, his eyelids felt like lead weights.
He was very tired and his limbs seemed to weigh a ton. His vision began to tunnel. He found himself drifting into a comfortable doze.
Jim lowered the cat onto his best friend's lap and watched the older man sleep for a few seconds then dimmed the light. "Good night Artie.".
He left the room – letting AG enter and head toward his basket - and padded toward the parlor car to send a message to Colonel Richmond.
WWW
Later, in the middle of the night
It was very late, Jim was in the galley making a pot of coffee to stay awake when he heard loud moans and even strangled sobs resound in the almost silence, disturbed only by the familiar sounds of the train.
He was out of the galley within seconds.
He sprinted to Artie's sleeping compartment and found the other man trashing about on his bed, gasping for breath, letting out croaks and groans.
His eyes were tight shut, his tear-soaked face twisted in agony and his hands were clutching frantically the bandage wrapped around his neck, pulling on it, trying to tear it off.
Marmie and AG both worried were sitting in their basket, watching the scene in front of them with big slit eyes, mewling in distress.
His first thought was that Artie was reliving his hanging in his sleep. 'I'm surprised it didn't happen before,' he thought.
He rapidly stroked the cats on their heads in order to reassure them, saying "He's going to be okay" then he reached out and grabbed his partner's shoulders in a firm grip. "Artie! Wake up! You're having a nightmare," he said and shook him gently.
His best friend looked terrible, he noticed, his face was red from his efforts as he struggled to suck in a breath and his brow was crinkled in pain. Tears streamed down both sides of his face. "Artie, wake up! It's a nightmare, you're not choking! Please, wake up! It's not real!" He tightened his grip but Artie arms were flailing enough that he stumbled backward and was knocked off the bed. "Damn!" he let out as he sat on the floor a second before lunging up onto the bed.
He straddled his best's friends legs, pressed on his arms and pinned him on the mattress. "Wake up Artie! Wake up, please, buddy."
Shortly after Artie's terror-filled eyes flew open wide and he jolted awake with a gasp, his sheets soaked with cold sweat were entangled around him, his head pounding. His heart was beating as though running a race and he was trembling as the final vestiges of his dream lingered in his mind.
He was momentarily disoriented until he realized that Jim was pinning him on the mattress, his best friend's looking down at him, a look of deep concern on his face and he began to take in the reality of his surroundings. He had been dreaming.
He suddenly burped and tasted bile rising up in his throat as images, smells and sounds were still clear and vivid in his mind.
Knowing what was going to happen next, Jim jumped out of bed and grabbed the first receptacle within easy reach, Aztec's basket, on the dresser, placing it under Artie's chin.
Once it was over, Artemus coughed into his sleeve and curled in on himself. Jim put the basket away and sat crisscross on Artie's bed. The vomit-covered cushion will end up in the stove, he thought.
Drying the tears with his bedspread, Artie breathed deeply, trying to calm down from the all too real bad dream he had. "I relived my hanging…" he said, pale as a ghost, using his own voice which was croaky and unsteady before letting out a chain of painful coughs - trying to expel the images out of his mind. He lifted his eyebrows as he was surprised to hear his not-quite-yet own voice. He had almost forgotten how it sounded, accustomed to silently mouthing words. He rasped, "What?"
Hearing that Jim smiled happily. "You can talk Artie! That's great buddy!"
He cleared his throat and took another deep breath, feeling immensely relieved. "But I haven't completely found my voice, Jim," he said, as his voice cracked over his words. "I sound awful. My throat is still extremely sore and aching a lot," he rasped. He saw Jim nod and move to the side of the bed, his brow furrowed in concern. "I'm alright, Jim. I've had a lot worse nightmares, and after a while those vivid images and sensations will end up somewhere in a distant recess of the memory, they won't disappear I know that, like all the horrible things that have happened to me which are still here ... " And he tapped his temple with a fingertip. "And horrible things that happened to me largely because of our undesirable guest." He sat up in his bed and put a trembling hand to his head and pushed back the sweat-dampened hair plastered to his skull. His limbs relaxed and his heartbeat began to slow. He scrubbed his hands over his tired face "What an awful, bone-chilling bad dream…" he let out, his mind still reeling from the nightmare.
Then he buried his head in his still shaking hands with a sob. Immediately Jim wrapped his arms around his companion, pulling him close.
He started rubbing Artie's back in soothing circles, "It's over, try to forget it. You're safe Artie, go back to sleep," he said in a gentle voice.
Parting from Jim, Artie shook his head knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep again anytime soon. Nor did he want to, after that nightmare. "No, I think I'm done for the night, Jim," he placed a hand on Jim's shoulder and said, "Thank you. Untangling his limbs from his twisted sheet, he moved on top of the bed and added, "It's not the first time I died Jim and had nightmares after that, and something tells me that I will die temporarily, again, several times, before definitively dying. Don't worry, I'm going to be alright. It's just a matter of time. Remember when I died in the past Colonel Vautrain had sent me into – I had nightmares for a week after that, and they progressively disappeared and I felt good again, time makes thing easier…"
Jim nodded. "Yes I remember and I had nightmares myself days after that pistolero killed you, too. Each night for a week I kept seeing you, dead in my arms, your dead body lying in your coffin, me standing beside your coffin at your funeral..."
Artie nodded. "I wasn't really dead, you know. They killed my doppelganger."
Jim stood and said, "I didn't know that at the time, I thought it was you, Artie. That was the worst day in my life, ever. When I saw you after you killed that head pistolero, Armando Galiano, I was so totally stunned that I thought that you were a ghost."
His chocolate eyes sparkling up at Jim, Artie said, "And I was very upset that my all you had to say was 'thanks Artie'. I had just come back from the grave, risen like Lazarus…"
Jim smiled and asked, "You remember when you thought that I was dead – and that you were prisoner of that woman Dr. Faustina? You were stunned too to see me alive. If my memory is correct, you said to me: "Well you don't look very dead."
Artie chuckled. "And you said; "I'm not even sick." Laughing he took Jim in his arms. He hugged him for a long moment then finally parted from his best friend. "Ah! James my boy! You and I should stop dying during our missions, it becomes seriously tiresome." He heaved a long sigh. "I think I need a cup of coffee… but not the coffee you prepared and that I can smell from here so much it is so strong, and bitter. You should think about adding a little more water when you make coffee, you know?
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The two men entered the galley one minute later. Artemus immediately got rid of Jim's molasses-like-coffee in the sink earning a fake highly affronted look from his partner and rapidly made another pot, both men enjoying the rich aroma of roasted beans.
Marmie, AG and Aztec joined them and the felines mewling for milk, started slaloming between the older man's legs, rubbing against them enticingly, so Artie placed a saucer onto the floor, filled it with milk and the cats grouped to lap it up in concert.
Once that was done, Jim and Artemus entered the parlor car, Artie holding the pot of fresh, steaming coffee and Jim two mugs.
Rubbing one bloodshot and puffy eye, the younger man sat on the couch imitated by his partner and settled the two mugs on the coffee table. He said, "I still have the flag that was on your coffin, you know, I mean on your doppelganger's coffin. By the way he was transferred from the fort cemetery to a civil cemetery after your miraculous 'resurrection'. His name was Edward Henley, one of the pistoleros told me."
Pouring hot coffee into one mug, Artie chuckled then he said, "I was buried once already after you killed me, Jim, do you remember? And you didn't show up to my funeral. Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! It's only when a man is dead that he can see who his true friends are…"
Jim smiled. "Oh, I did, but the burial was over, there was only one old priest left who told me exactly what you just said, it's so strange!"
They both laughed. Then they became serious again.
Jim asked, "What do you think Loveless is cooking up? Because like you, I don't believe him. He has something in mind."
Pouring steaming coffee into the other mug, Artie replied, "I think we're not his target, for once – at least for now – and I'm persuaded that he wants to kill the President, meeting him in his office is ideal too, and I can feel it in my guts."
Frowning suddenly worried, Jim said, "Kill Grant In his office? That's impossible! He has a security detail and we'll be there too when they meet.. No, wait! Nothing is impossible with Dr. Loveless. Besides your instinct is never wrong, Artie."
The older agent smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you." He took a sip of coffee and added, "And I know he won't kill the President, because I know someone who is going to take his place – wearing a bullet proof jacket of course – a man who impersonated him many times when his life was threatened, and doing that, saved his life many times too. A former great thespian with a vast repertoire… and very talented."
Jim took a sip of coffee in his turn. "Yes, I know him too very well." He smiled. "He left the stage to become a great special agent of the US Secret Service."
Smiling too, Artemus continued with a scratchy voice, "But an actor once, an actor forever… " He paused and continued, "But as Loveless could suspect that I am playing Grant's role, he knows that I can impersonate anyone, even women, I've to keep myself mute, pretending that I'm still unable to talk. Oh! And I'll ask Jeremy to wear a mask of my face. Loveless will then be totally convinced I'm not impersonating the President." He took a sip of coffee, swallowed painfully, and then winced. Despite that he drank his whole mug. The hot liquid helped in soothing his sore and irritated throat.
Jim nodded. "Good idea, Artie." He suddenly frowned while thinking about something. "Let's hope Loveless isn't a light sleeper and didn't hear anything, otherwise your plan is already ruined."
Needing to be sure of that, the two men padded down the narrow walkway and stopped in front of the guest compartment.
They could hear Loveless's loud snores through the door.
They smiled.
WWW
The next morning
Loveless was bored staring out of the window watching the telegraph poles passing along the track… and fighting sleepiness as the sound of the Wanderer passage over railway ties and the rumble of the steam engine were lulling him to sleep.
He shook his head and sighed heavily, drumming his fingers on the couch and glanced at Jim. "What do the two of do when traveling in your train? There's nothing to do here, except look outside at the landscape," he said crossing his arms on his chest, huffing in frustrated annoyance. "It's boring."
Sitting at the work table, Jim who was reading ancient mission reports responded, "Well, we write mission reports, we play chess, different cards games, we read books, newspapers, dime novels, I oil the guns and take care of the horses; Artie is inventing new gadgets or playing in his labs with his chemicals, he plays violin and prepares food too. We train a lot too, to be in tip-top shape. We do hand to hand combat, we do fencing, we do boxing, stick fighting, some martial arts, some wrestling too." Then he bent toward his cat curled up in the basket beside him and scratched AG behind the ears, making him purr and the feline rubbed his head against his owner's palm.
Miguelito Loveless left the couch and looked at Artemus. The older agent was lying on the other couch, two pillows tucked beneath his head, his feet resting on the armrest. Marmalade was sitting Sphinx-style across her owner's lap, staring at him. She was in defensive mode, ready to pounce on Loveless, teeth and claws ready if he dared to come close to her owner. Aztec as for him was playing with a small stuffed mouse under the coffee table.
He proposed, "Perhaps I could use your lab, Mr. Gordon. As you know I'm very good at chemistry. I could make smoke bombs for you, I know that you appreciate them very much."
Furrowing his brow Artemus lifted his eyes from the book he was reading and send an icy glare at the diminutive man. "Never! You won't kill us with some lethal gas you prepared using my chemicals. Forget it!" he mouthed in silence before shaking his finger in a 'no way' gesture. Then he returned to his reading.
Marmie narrowed her slit eyes and hissed channeling her owner's mood.
Loveless pursed his lips. "That's not very kind of you." Then he glared at Marmalade who slow-blinked at him, sprawled on her side and licked her paws – ignoring him. He huffed in annoyance and asked, "When will you find your voice?"
Petting AG's black fur softly, Jim responded for his injured partner, "Not before two weeks are up, the doctor said. Let me remind you that he was hanged."
Loveless nodded. "And yet you survived, I'm very impressed. You seem to be truly indestructible, Mr. Gordon, like your partner."
Shooting a black look to Loveless Artemus groaned and said mutely, "You should know, you tried to kill us both many times and you failed each time."
Loveless was searching for a good retort when there was a very brutal blow to the back of the train. Under the force of the impact the three men were thrown to the carpeted floor. Scared, the cats immediately sought refuge under the closest couch.
In a flash Jim stood and hurried to open the door leading to the rear platform – damaged - and he was stunned to discover… another train with its front portion seriously broken heading back toward the Wanderer again, at top speed to spur the train again.
Then he saw a dozen armed men riding horses galloping on each side of the other train, guns in hands, ready to fire at the Wanderer.
He closed the door, headed back inside the train and said, "We are being attacked! Loveless, you stay down, move under the table! Now!" And the little man complied hastily. "Artie take the right side, I'll take the left side." And they hurried to grab their gun belts and Colts.
Bullets suddenly rained inside the parlor car, smashing windows and lamps and making holes in the wooden walls and furniture.
Loveless panicked rolled himself into a shivering ball under the table. Artie moved behind a window and opened fire against the assailants, Jim doing the same on the other side.
The other train hit the Wanderer again, harder than before and Artie, Jim and Loveless found themselves being catapulted to the rear of the parlor car.
More bullets whistled by, but the two agents paid them no mind.
The door suddenly opened and two men rushed inside, guns in hands. Moving onto one knee Jim aimed calmly, pulled the trigger and hit them square in their chests. They collapsed on the floor, both dead.
Three other attackers jumped on what was left of the rear platform and entered the parlor car in their turn and immediately fired at their targets, Jim and Artie, using shotguns.
Tbc.
