I know Jim's right but I just can't get Bat Masterson and John Wesley Hardin out of my mind. They're so damned close to Jim and I in comparison. Every time we think we've got Loveless put away where he'll never get out give him a week and he's on the loose again. Masterson gets Hardin in jail and he sweet talks his way out of any trouble he gets into or worse yet, he tries to make people think he's on the straight and narrow. Now there's one creep I'd love to put away where he can never get out. Artie lay on the rock deep in thought as he fished.
After about an hour of lying on the rock Artie had several rather large fish in his creel. He decided he would go check out another spot where he had seen several fish jumping.
He pulled his pole up and grabbed his creel and began heading off the rock when Jim appeared waving, smiling and shouting. Artie turned around to see what was the matter with his partner and he lost his balance. Arms flailing, fishing equipment falling, Artie tried to correct and get his balance back. Jim could only stare open mouthed.
Just when Jim thought his friend had regained his balance he watched Artie bend over to retrieve his fishing pole and watched in horror as his footing slipped and he slid down the rock. Artie grabbed frantically, looking for anything to hold onto. But the rock had been worn smooth by the weather and he found nothing he could grip. Artie remembered the abundant rocks he had seen below the water's surface when he was fishing and as he slid off the rock he tried to propel himself away from them.
With a splash Artie landed head first in the shallow water near the rock. When he came up he was face down and not moving. Jim shook himself back to reality and ran into the water and pulled him to the shore. He turned Artie over and checked for injuries. The only injuries seemed to be the enormous cut just above his right eye, which was bleeding profusely, and a rather large lump on the back of his head that was also bleeding. Jim quickly shrugged out of his shirt, tore it in two and used it as bandages. He picked his friend up and carried him back to the campsite.
After he laid him down in the lean-to he completed a closer inspection of his friend and was not pleased by what he found. Artie had a rather large lump on the back of his head and a small cut, which he decided wouldn't need to be bandaged. The cut on his forehead, however, was a different story. The bleeding here took him longer to stop; Jim had always hated head wounds you just never could tell just how serious they were as they always bled profusely even the tiniest of cuts.
He bandaged Artie's head and sat back to wait for him to wake up. When he regained consciousness he would be able to tell the extent of the damage and then they would decide if they needed to cut the fishing trip short. Jim made coffee and waited.
A short time later, Jim was rewarded with a moan from the lean-to. He leaned over his friend and waited for him to open his eyes. Artie slowly opened his eyes and forced them to focus. Jim was somewhat surprised by the shocked look he received.
"Hey, pal, how are you feeling? You took a pretty good hit on your head when you fell off that rock," Jim leaned in to check on him and Artie pulled back.
"Excuse me, but what are YOU doing here?" Artie asked as he reached for the gun he wasn't wearing.
"And what have you done with my gun?" He demanded angrily as he rose.
"Artie, you better lie back. You need to rest, you did hit your head pretty hard," Jim tried to ease him back onto the ground.
"I don't know this Artie you're talking about and I do NOT need to rest," Artie scrutinized his partner carefully.
"But you, sir I do know. Now, you better tell me where you put my gun, John."
"John? Artie, are you all right? I'm not John, it's me, Jim, your partner," Jim looked at him with concern.
"I have no partner and you ARE John. Don't try to fool me, Hardin. I've been trailing you off and on for over ten years," Artie sat up quickly, grasping his head against the pain and nausea.
"Hardin? Artie, what the hell…you think I'm John Wesley Hardin? Snap out of it, Artie. I'm your partner, James West…we're Secret Service agents for President Grant."
"Oh brother, Hardin. The length's you won't go to to avoid prison or a rope."
"Artie, this isn't funny."
"Ain't nothin funny about bein wanted for murder."
"Murder…come on, Artie, this isn't funny knock off with the gag. You won the fishing contest okay?"
"I don't know what you're talking about Hardin. I never heard of any Artie and I'm not one of President Grant's Secret Service men. I'm just plain old Bat Masterson and I'm going to take you in."
"Bat…No you're not. You're Artemus Gordon, Secret Service agent and you're my partner. Think Artie…you've got to think!" Jim was getting quite worried.
"No! You're not going to pull your crap with me, Hardin. I've studied you for years…I know all your dirty little tricks. Just as soon as I get my horse saddled I'm taking you back to town."
"Artie" rose to his feet and swayed. Jim reached out and steadied him. The concern written deeply on his features. "Artie" pulled away and stumbled toward his horse. Jim thought quickly and decided he needed to get him to a doctor and fast and the only way to do that was to get him to follow him. He made his decision and acted quickly. He helped "Artie" saddle the horses, noting with disdain the times "Artie" had to stop to throw up. That usually meant severe concussion and whoever he thought he was this man was just as stubborn as his Artie when it came to taking care of himself.
Jim mounted his horse and pretended to wait patiently for "Artie" to mount. While "Artie" was getting on his horse Jim, as hard as it was for him to do it, and he knew he had to, yanked on his horses' reigns and bolted across the meadow and into the trees on the other side of the clearing, hoping "Artie" would follow.
He was rewarded with the sounds of hoof beats closing the gap behind him. He intentionally slowed his horse allowing "Artie" to close in. Suddenly he heard then felt the gunshot as the bullet ripped through the air beside his head. Jim spurred his horse onward and headed away from the lake and toward Phoenix. He only hoped he could get "Artie" back to town and to a doctor before "Artie" became the crack shot he knew he was and Jim wouldn't be able to help him.
Jim rounded the bend and ducked quickly to avoid a low hanging branch. He listened for the sounds of his partner's continued trailing and was rewarded with another shot past his head. Jim knew that in his partner's current state of mind it would be difficult, if not impossible, to talk some sense into him let alone lure him into town to see a doctor. Whoever he thinks he is right now…deep down, he's still Artie. I'm not sure I can stop him without hurting him. But how can I harm my best friend? Jim shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked for cover. He found an opening in the rocks off to his right and made for it full speed.
He quickly hid his horse and pulled some branches over the opening just as "Artie" rounded the bend. Jim peered out between the leaves and watched as "Artie" dismounted and looked around. "Artie" took his hat off and wiped at his sweaty face, wincing when he touched the cut on his forehead. He swayed slightly, grunted disgustedly and climbed back on his horse and rode off. Jim mounted his horse and followed his partner; determined to keep an eye on him no matter what the cost.
Damnit, Bat, how'd you manage to lose Hardin yet again? "Artie" thought to himself. He put his hand to his head trying to stop the pounding. His headache had returned full force and every hoof beat throbbed through his head like a jackhammer. That mangy polecat must have doubled back somehow. He's probably behind me watching me. "Artie" reined in his horse and dismounted, looking for any signs of his prey.
Jim pulled up and stayed hidden by the rocks as he watched his friend. I hope Artie can last until I can get him back to Phoenix. He looks like he's going to drop. He's probably got a concussion. I wish I could reason with him somehow. I know how my Artie thinks but I have no idea how this Artie thinks. Damnit, what am I supposed to do? If that were anyone but Artie I would just subdue them and take them into town by force. But no matter whom he thinks he is that's still Artie out there. I can't hurt him even though he's out to hurt me or even kill me.
The frown on Jim's face deepened as he looked around trying to come up with a peaceful solution to his dilemma. He tried to remember the path they had taken and he realized, as he looked around, that, while it would be a long climb, if they went up this huge hill of rocks and down the other side they would cut miles off the trip.
Thinking quickly, Jim kicked his steed toward the rocks and made as much noise as he could. His actions had the desired effect, as he turned back to see "Artie" pull himself into his saddle to follow him. Jim urged his steed to pick up the pace, not wanting his partner to get too close. When he neared the top he turned and looked down the rock mountain.
"Artie" had begun teetering in his saddle and Jim knew it wouldn't be long before he fell. Jim jumped down off his horse and began to head back down toward his friend. "Artie" looked up and saw him and pulled his gun from its holster and fired, causing Jim to dive behind a boulder. Thinking quickly, Jim shouted at him.
"Come on, Art…Bat, you need help. You're hurt…let me help."
"Hardin, you've never voluntarily helped anyone in yer life!"
"Maybe I figure now is a good time to start," came the reply.
"I'm fine I don't need any help. But I can't say the same for you, Hardin!" "Artie" retorted as he continued to snake his way up the hillside on foot pulling his horse by the reins, working his way around the boulders.
"What if I tell you I'm willing to let you take me back to Phoenix. I won't put up a fight?" Jim tried to reason with him as he maneuvered his way down trying to get closer to him.
"I'd say you were up to something, Hardin. And I ain't about ta let ya pull one over on me…not again. The only way to take you back is over my saddle."
Jim looked out from his hiding place as "Artie" neared his position. He was dismayed to see his partner struggling for breath in the intense heat of the day and there was a fresh trail of infection tinted blood leaking from his bandage. "Artie" spotted him and fired in his direction again, causing Jim to dive for cover. Jim went back up to the top and tried to think of a way out of this without having to harm him.
Night would soon be upon them and "Artie" knew he had to try and stop Hardin before he could use the cover of darkness to escape his grasp yet again. The going was rough in the twilight and "Artie" paused and wiped the sweat off his face, not noticing that it was really blood, and he began his ascent again.
Jim knew he couldn't allow "Artie" to reach him. What am I going to do? I can't shoot him but I can't let him reach me. There has to be something I'm overlooking. Damn, I wish it was me and not Artie down there…Artie would have some ideas for a situation like this. I never realized just how much I rely on him until now. Somehow I've got to get through to him before this gets one of us killed. Jim decided on his course of action and leaned out and took a shot at his friend and partner, intentionally missing him.
"Yer slippin, Hardin, that shot missed me by a mile!"
"What can I say, it's been a long day, Masterson. What do you say we take a break and head for town in the morning?" Jim tried.
"No go, Hardin. You've gotten away from me for the last time. I aim to take you to jail and see that you stay put this time!"
Jim leaned out again and saw that "Artie's progress was slowing. In the dwindling light it was becoming increasingly difficult to find a good path through the rocks and boulders. Before he could shout out a warning, Jim saw Arties' right leg come in contact with a rock jutting out. Jim could only watch as Artie collided with the rock.
"Artie" slipped, cursing the twilight, as his leg struck a jagged rock sticking out. He reached out to stop his fall and missed the rock. There was little he could do as he slid down but cry out in pain as the rock tore a jagged tear in his leg just above the top of his right boot. He sat heavily on a rock and glared at his offending appendage. Jim slipped out from behind the rock and started down toward him.