This is my first Wild Wild West fic so please be nice :) I don't own any of the main characters although owning Artie would perk up my day!
The Night Of The Last Ride
He rode at as fast a pace as his humble steed could manage, which in and of itself was quite a feat as the horse had taken a bullet intended for his master. The pale moonlight provided barely enough light for the horse to see, and made the rider look even more like death warmed over. The man was slumped over the horse's neck not really holding on any more just held in place by the limp arms that hung below each side of the animal's neck. Thank goodness the horse knew the way home…at least he hoped home would still be there when he arrived. He hoped his master would also be alive when he reached home.
Finally, after what seemed like days, the train tracks came into view. The steed slowed his pace and cantered along the tracks trying his best to retrace the route they had taken when they left. He knew the train should be coming into his sights soon it had only been a few minutes canter before they had turned off onto the trail. He continued his pace, froth building up under his saddle and dripping from his fetlocks. He came around the bend and slammed to a halt…the train was gone! Nowhere in sight! Thinking quickly, he pulled hard to start again and ran as fast as he could without knocking his rider off.
"It's not like Artie to be late," Jim muttered to himself as he cleared the dinner table, "If he met some pretty young thing and didn't let me know I'll skin him alive," he chuckled as he set about he task of doing the dishes.
After the dinner dishes were taken care of James West, Secret Service Agent for President Ulysses S. Grant, worked his way through the Wanderer to the stable car. He opened the door and stared wonderingly at the empty stall. Where WAS his wayward partner? It's not like him to not at least telegraph if he was going to be late.
The last word Jim had heard from Artie he had said he was leaving and would be joining him on the train for the trip to Fredericksburg. He had said he would try to catch up to him before he left Washington. He absentmindedly went through the motions of feeding and currying his horse, ignoring the animal's bid for his masters attention by butting him with his head.
After finishing with the horse James set about cleaning the stalls. He knew they had a hand for that work but he needed something to keep his mind occupied. Well, at any rate occupied away from his thoughts about Artie. As the train moved further and further away from Baltimore the deeper the furrow in his brow became. Jim hoped Artie caught up to the train before it left the two-day pit stop in Washington, DC to restock and refuel the train.
The steed stopped to rest and drink water from a small stream beside the tracks. His master had made no effort to move and the smell of death was getting stronger. The horse knew his master was not long for this world if he did not do his duty and get him back to his home. He drank his fill and galloped away again.
The two-day pit stop had come and gone and Jim had barely been able to keep the President and Colonel Richmond at bay telling them he had sent Artemus on ahead to Fredericksburg and he would pick him up along the way. He had no idea how he had managed to keep his ever deepening fear and dread from showing.
The Wanderer departed Washington, DC on time and fully stocked. Jim had spent the last few hours before leaving checking all the places he knew Artie could be and no one had seen or heard from him in some time. Jim knew he had to be on the train and he left Washington with a heavy heart.
His blood beginning to run cold, the steed charged on, following the tracks trying to catch up to the train. The scent of death hung heavily in the air, burning his nostrils, but the dutiful steed plugged onward, toward home.
James glanced at the mantle clock, midnight. Now Artie was officially LATE. Jim had sent some casual telegrams to contacts and other agents back in Baltimore only to learn that Artemus had left on time. Or he had at least checked out of his hotel on schedule. Jim's telegram from Jeremy Pike had asked if he needed assistance but Jim had returned a wire telling him he could handle things on this end.
Jim rose, walked over to the door and opened it and stepped out into the night air. He hoped it would clear his head of the nagging suspicions that had been plaguing him since dinner. He lit a cigar and took a long drag. He puffed the smoke out as his eyes scanned the territory behind the slow moving train, searching for any signs of his friend. Seeing none, he turned and was about to go back inside when he thought he had heard a noise.
Quickly he spun around and again scanned the area. Damnit, he couldn't hear a thing with the noise the train was making. He rushed inside and grabbed the horn. Calling Alex in the locomotive and shouting some hurried words, he was quickly rewarded with the familiar screeching of brakes and the train came to a stop.
James quickly ran back outside and again scanned the area. The moonlight almost hindered his search more than it helped. The moonlight was hitting the trees and dips in the terrain and making it seem like they were at sea not on dry land. Finally, just when he was about to give up and ask Alex to back the train up, he again heard the sound. Artie's saddle jingling! It HAD to be! Jim jumped off the train and headed as fast as he could in the direction he had heard the sound.
Several crewmen appeared at the back of the train, Jim yelled to two of them to follow him as he took off at top speed. He stopped about 100 yards from the train, no longer hearing the jingling sound. One of the crewmen pointed to a heap in a nearby depression, he thought it looked like a horse. Oh God, don't let him be dead. Let me be in time to help him, Jim thought, as they ran to the place the crewman had spotted.
Jim bent over the animal, shocked at what he saw. The writhing horse was covered in froth, sweat and a dark looking substance. He grabbed the lantern from a crewman and shown it over the animal. The dark substance was blood and this horse was almost completely covered in it!
"Do either of you see Artie anywhere?" Jim asked frantically swinging the lantern around looking for his friend.
"No, sir," was the solemn reply.
"Mr. West, look!"
One of the crewmen pointed and Jim aimed the lantern in that direction. Sticking out from under the horse was an arm dressed in the ever-familiar fringed riding jacket of one Artemus Gordon! Jim threw the lantern down not noticing the nearby crewman frantically grab it to keep it from starting a fire. They carefully but quickly pried the fallen steed from his master.
The two crewmen held the horse up enough for Jim to pull Artie out from under him then they gently placed the animal back down. Jim took one look at him and nodded to the crewmen who removed the saddle then did what had to be done. Jim flinched when he heard the shot, knowing his friend would be saddened to learn his trusted steed had died getting his master back where he belonged. He snapped back to reality and grabbed Artie by the shoulders and one crewman grabbed his feet and the other led the way with the lantern.
They walked carefully and slowly back to the train, Jim never taking his eyes off his partner, looking for some sign of life. In the pale moonlight it looked like they were carrying a ghost back to the train not his partner. Jim refused to believe the worst, and instead concentrated on getting him back to the safety of the train as quickly as they could, Jim getting more concerned with every step as he knew by the amount of blood covering his friend that he had to be in enormous pain but yet Artie never made a sound.
They carefully placed their charge on the settee and Jim raced to the horn and told Alex to make the best possible speed to the nearest town with a doctor. Then he turned his attention back to his partner. He checked for a pulse and was rewarded with a very faint but mostly steady pulse. The crewmen were standing patiently by waiting for any instructions he might have for them. He told them to get him some water and some cloths so he could clean Artemus up enough to see the extent of the damage. If we are lucky most of this blood is from the horse not Artie, Jim thought.
Once he had the pitcher of water and the basin he began the laborious task of cleaning his friend. He noticed several holes in his fringed jacket, Uh oh, Artie's not going to like that, Jim thought. He soaked a cloth in cool water and gently began to wipe his partner's face. There was dried blood caked in his hair and Jim soon discovered a bullet graze along the right side of his head just above his ear. Jim shook his head and carefully cleaned the graze, making sure the bleeding had stopped. He carefully wrapped a cloth around his head and set about removing Artie's blood soaked jacket and shirt, shocked at how much blood there was and amazed that his friend was still alive.
Once he had the shirt removed he began to wipe his friend's chest and the shocked look returned full force. Jim's hand froze and the remaining crewman came forward to see if he needed help.
"Oh my god, sir," the crewman said, "How can he still be alive?"
"I don't know, I really don't know. But I do know we had better get the bleeding stopped or Artie doesn't stand a chance. Go up and tell Alex to pull out all the stops and get us to that doctor as quick as he can!" Jim barely noticed the crewman's hasty departure or the solemn look on his face.
"What happened to you pal? Who did this to you?" Jim wondered.
TWO DAYS EARLIER—OUTSKIRTS OF BALTIMORE
Secret Service Agent Artemus Gordon dismounted his horse and entered the hotel. He just wanted to pay his bill and hit the trail to meet Jim on the train. This past mission, while it had been a success, had taken a lot out of him. He wasn't willing to admit it to Jim but he would welcome the two-week stay in Fredericksburg providing security for President Grant during his meetings there. He was bone weary and aching for a long soak in a hot bath and the relaxing three-day train trip.
After paying his bill and leaving the hotel he decided to stop by and see a barkeeper friend of his before he left so he headed in the direction of his friend's tavern. As he crossed a dark alleyway he heard a commotion. Artie turned and looked down the darkened alley. Two men were scuffling with an older man and it looked like they were trying to rob him. Artie ran down the alley yelling at the men.
He pulled to a stop and grabbed the closest man and pulled him off the old-timer. He spun him around and hit him in the jaw. The man fell backward against the building, pulling Artemus with him and rolling him along the building. The man slammed his fist into Artemus' stomach making him double over. The man then hit him on the back of the head making Artemus' head spin. He shook his head to clear it and pushed off the wall. He launched himself at the attacker and they wrestled across the alleyway. The man swung at him and missed and Artemus saw his opening and took it. Felling his attacker he turned his attention to the other man who was still hitting the old man. Artemus saw a board lying on the ground and he picked it up and hit the attacker across the back with it. The man growled and hurled the old man further into the alley and turned on Artemus.
They grappled and twisted and turned each trying to gain the upper hand. Finally Artemus was able to create the opening he needed and he felled this attacker as well. He looked around, spotted and picked up his hat. Brushing the dust off of it, he placed it on his head and turned to the old man. He helped him up and after making sure he was all right Artemus exited the alley and mounted his horse. His friend the barkeeper would have to wait for another time. He had wasted enough time here and just wanted to get home. As he turned his horse to leave, one of the men emerged from the alley, glaring at him.
"Mister, you best get out of town and mind yer own business before we decide ya don't need ta be breathin no more."
"And you, sir, are a vast waste of skin and air and you had better mind YOUR own business before I decide to do the community a favor and put an end to your wasteful habits," Artie reigned in his horse and rode out of town.
Two hours later Artie, so tired he was almost asleep in the saddle, heard a rustling noise on the trail up ahead.
"Jack, old boy," Artemus whispered to his horse, "I do believe our tail has decided to make its presence known," Artemus eased his hold on the reigns and let the horse canter at his own pace, keeping an ever watchful eye on the road ahead.
As re rounded the bend he saw them. Sitting atop their horses side by side blocking the road. The two men he had had the altercation with back in town. One had a rifle aimed at him and the other had his pistol resting on the horn of his saddle. Artemus slowed his horse to a stop and stared at them, after what seemed like an eternity, breaking the silence.
"I see you gentlemen are in need of another lesson," Artemus commented.
"The way I see it, mister, it's you that needs the lesson. You just don't seem to know your place."
"And just what would you say my place is friend?" The man lowered his rifle.
"I ain't yore friend, mister. And yore place is pushing up daisy's."
"Now, I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you, friend," Artemus deadpanned.
"Why don't ya just give me a good reason why I shouldn't just blow yore dang fool head off right now?"
"I'd like to partner, I really would but you see I'm late and, well, my friend doesn't like it when I'm late."
"Well, now, yore friend will just to put up with you being late then, won't he?" the one with the rifle snarled. He lifted the rifle and took aim.
Artemus quickly spun his horse and dug his heels into his sides. The horse seemed to sense his master's haste and ran as swiftly as he could. The men were in hot pursuit, firing wildly. Artemus leaned forward into his horse's neck trying to make himself as small a target as possible. He urged the animal onward giving him full reign, trusting his steed completely. He pulled his gun from his holster and, without looking, pointed it behind him and pulled the trigger.
He was rewarded with a shout and the sound of hoof beats lessened. One down, one more to go. Artie thought. He guessed where the other gunman might be and fired off a shot. Nothing, Darn! He started to turn his head to steal a quick glance when he felt a searing pain. A gunmen's bullet had almost found its mark. He put his hand to his head and it came back crimson. He wiped his fingers on his trousers and pushed on. Oh well, it's just a graze I can worry about that later. Artemus wiped the quickly flowing blood out of his eyes, intent on keeping his eye on the trail ahead.
The gunmen got off several more wild shots before another one found its mark. This time it was the horse. Artie felt the steed almost halt in mid stride. The animal whinnied and snorted but did not stop running. Jack, old boy, there will be extra grain in your stall tonight you really will have earned it. Zing! Another shot too close for comfort brought Artemus out of his thoughts and back to the fight for his life. He took several more shots but missed, as did his attacker.
Suddenly the trail ahead of him burst with a blinding light from a rifle blast. The other man! He had not been shot, or at least not fatally as Artie had hoped, he had simply rode on ahead and set up a nifty little crossfire trap. Artemus could have kicked himself for not thinking that far ahead of his opponent. Jim's never going to let me live this one down. IF I even make it through this, he thought.
With bullets flying at him from both directions, the mighty stallion became confused and tried to run off the trail. After what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality about thirty seconds, the horse heard his master cry out and felt him slump against his neck. The horse, having his reign, ran for all he was worth toward home, hoping his master could maintain his tenuous hold.
Jim did the best he could to stop the steady flow of his friend and partner's lifeblood. When he had finally gotten the flow of blood from the wounds to stop he took stock of his friends wounds and he didn't like what he saw. There were three gaping holes in his partner's body. One in his right shoulder, one in his right side and one in his right thigh. There was a dark spongy bruise nearly covering the right side of his chest, telling Jim he probably had some broken ribs. He wrapped strips of cloth around him the best he could, trying not to hurt his partner. Jim's concern deepened when his ministrations didn't even produce the slightest movement or sound from his still unconscious partner.
The best work he could do on his friend done until they reached a doctor, Jim carefully laid his friend back on the pillow and watched him. Artie seemed to be laboring for breath, the pain evident in his features. Jim turned his attention to Artie's saddle and his clothing hoping something would give him a clue as to what had happened to him.
First, he searched the saddlebags hoping to find some clue. All he found was dirty clothes and his friend's journal he knew he always kept with him. Jim idly flipped through the last pages to see if he had written anything there that could be of help but found nothing. He turned his attention to the saddle itself and saw that Artie's rifle was missing. He would have to send Jeremy a telegraph and have him keep his eyes open for someone using it or trying to sell it.
Then he inspected Artie's jacket. Oh God, there's a lot of blood, Jim thought. The holes in the front and back where he had been shot in the side were a good sign he hoped. At least that bullet was no longer in his partner's body to cause infection. Jim checked each pocket, including the hidden ones; glad that Artie's hidden stash had not fallen into the wrong hands. He read every scrap of paper he found hoping to find a clue, ANY clue as to who might have done this but he came up empty. Frustrated, he threw the jacket into the corner, knocking over a small table. There was a small, quiet moaning sound from the direction of the settee.
"Artie!" Jim shouted, "Are you okay?"
"That depends, Jim, am I in hell cause I sure hurt like it," Artie tried to laugh and coughed instead.
"Take it easy, pal," Jim said as he wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Just lie still and try to relax. Alex says we should have you to a doctor soon."
"Relax? That's easy for you to say, YOU don't have vital fluids leaking out just about everywhere," Artie replied sarcastically as he winced.
"Are you sure you're okay, pal? What can I do to make you comfortable?" Jim asked as he adjusted the pillow under his head.
"I'm fine. What did you do get mad because I was late and tell Alex to take the train off track and find every chuckhole in existence?" Artie coughed and this time the cloth Jim used to wipe his mouth came back crimson.
Jim tried not to let his surprise show, after all Artie had enough to do just concentrating on breathing and staying alive. His look didn't get past Artie.
"Am I that bad, Jim?" Artie wheezed.
You're gonna be fine, pal. We're going to get you to a doctor soon and he'll fix you up in no time."
"Jim, it's me, Artie, your partner, you're talking to. I'm not some novice greenhorn and you damn well know that at the rate I'm losing blood I'm lucky to still be conscious at all."
"Artie I will NOT listen to any more talk like that. You are going to make it through this. No, WE are going to make it through this. I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you through this pal, so no more negative talk."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, James, I only hope I don't disappoint you," Artie coughed and spat more blood.
"You just try and relax, pal. I'm going to go forward and see if I can hurry Alex along, if it means that I have to get out and push. I'll be right back, okay?" Artie nodded and Jim rose and walked to the door then turned back to his friend.
"Don't go anywhere while I'm gone," he said with a smile.
"Oh shoot, I was planning on slipping out the back and going dancing with your girlfriend," Artie tried his best to smile. He was asleep before Jim turned back around and headed to see the engineer.