I really don't envy that Private, Jim thought, having to do that much riding in this heat. No wonder the Indians say this is cursed land. This desert is hot as Hades! Jim wiped his brow and headed back up the hill. He looked down toward his partner and shook his head. I don't know how he does it. He's sick as a dog yet there he sits watching and waiting for me to make a mistake. Pal, for your sake this is one time I can't afford to make even the smallest mistake.

"Masterson!" Jim yelled.

"Yeah, Hardin, whadya want?" Jim noted he was getting grumpier.

"Just seeing if you're still alive, Masterson!"

"I'm still here, Hardin. You ain't gonna get rid of me that easy," to make his point "Artie" fired a warning shot.

"I figure by now you're about out of water, Masterson, I have some spare canteens you interested in one of em?"

"That depends, Hardin, you gonna give me the one with the poison in it?" "Artie" fired another warning shot when Jim stuck his head around the rock.

"I would never try to poison you, you're my partner I really don't want to break in a new one…"

"You mean you're still toutin that tired old lie?"

"Bat, I know for a fact that President Grant is a few miles from here. I bet he's worried about you…let's go talk to him," Jim hope this would draw his friend out not enrage him.

"THE President Grant?"

"The Old Man himself, pal. Whadya say we stop all this nonsense and go talk to him?"

"Hardin, that is NO way for anyone, even the likes of you, to address the President of These United States! I oughta shoot you where you stand just fer that!"

"You're the one who usually refers to him that way, pal. And for some reason he lets you get away with it."

"Me? I ain't never met the man. Quit yer stallin, Hardin. Just step out from that rock and let me shoot ya so I can tie you to my saddle and be on my way."

"Sorry, pal. Even if you don't know who you are we do. I can wait you out a whole lot better than you can wait me out. At least take this water…you have to be out by now," Jim tossed the canteen down toward his friend.

"Artie" looked around the rock and saw that he had tossed the canteen quite close. He leaned out with his rifle and drug the canteen back. Jim was dismayed to see the flush in his friend's cheeks was even deeper and he was sweating profusely. He watched "Artie" pull the stopper and eagerly drink. This gave fuel to Jim's idea and he hoped the Private would return soon so he could put his plan in motion.

The Private rode back into camp and hastily dismounted and charged over to the President's tent and rushed inside. He recounted his conversation with Mr. West and handed the note from Jim to Grant who scanned it briefly.

"This is worse than I thought," Grant commented as he passed the note to Evans, "Harry, what do you think?" Evans read the note.

"In my professional opinion, sir, I'd have to say that Mr. Gordon needs treatment and fast. If his accident was two days ago and he's still throwing up that is not a good sign."

"But what can we do? With this apparent amnesia he has I don't think he's going to let any of us get anywhere near him," Grant questioned, the extreme concern evident in his voice.

"I think Mr. West's plan is good in theory. I'm just not sure about implementing it. If Mr. Gordon is indeed as sick as this note suggests I wouldn't dare give him anything stronger than a mild headache powder."

"We've got to do something! Can't we try to reason with him?" Grant asked.

"It sounds as if Mr. West has already tried that, sir. And as close as those two are if Mr. West can't get through to him I don't know who can," Evans slowly shook his head in defeat.

"I think I know someone who can," Grant said as he rose and called to his guards.

"Mr. President, what are you up to?" Evans wanted to know.

"You'll see," Grant replied with a smile as the guard entered the tent.

"Guard, saddle my horse and put some provisions in my saddle bags. Enough for three."

"Yes, sir!" the soldier saluted Grant and quickly left.

"Tell me you aren't going to do what I think you're going to do."

"Now, Harry, before you get your feathers ruffled you know I'm going to do it so just go along with me. In fact COME along with me. Artemus will need you."

"Oh, I planned to come along whether or not you permitted it. I'd just like to be let in on your little plan before it gets you blown to smithereens," Evans glared at him.

"It's quite simple, my dear doctor, I'm going to bring to the bargaining table the one thing a civic minded citizen like Bat Masterson could never resist. The President of These United States will pay him a visit and demand he turn his prisoner over to my men," Evans could only stare after the shadow of the man's quickly retreating form.

The sun was finally making its downward arc, something Jim was very glad for. A gentle breeze had begun to waft through the rocks. Jim poured a small amount of his canteen over his head to cool off when he noticed the Private approaching him. He quietly went down and met him. The expression on Jim's face changed from one of concern to surprise as the Private detailed Grant's plan.

"He's WHAT?" Jim almost shouted, before remembering to lower his voice.

"That's the President's words, Mr. West…not mine. The Captain said he's fixin to head up here his self and have a talk with Mr. Masterson…er…I mean Mr. Gordon…er…I mean…Mr. West just who do I mean?"

"I get the hint, Private," Jim chuckled grateful that he wasn't the only one confused by this whole situation.

"I think it's too risky for Grant to come up here and I'm sure you're Captain told him as much and I'm just as sure Grant vetoed any objection he made."

"Yes, sir he shore did. He even told the Captain he could be a Private again if he wanted to keep arguin with him."

"I feel sorry for your Captain," Jim laughed, "When are the soldiers going to be in place?"

"They should be there now just waitin fer yer signal. The President told them to stay out of sight and wait until you gave them the signal to move in. I bet that's gonna change now that Grant his self is comin."

"I bet it will, soldier, I bet it will. All right, tell the President to get a message to the men telling them about the plan we're going to try. Tell them to make sure they stay well out of sight…Artie sees one hair that doesn't belong to me and they're liable to get it shot off," the Private left yet again with new orders to carry out.

Jim scrambled back up the rocks and braved a peek around one. "Artie" was hunched over scribbling something in the sand. Jim knew from experience what the look on his partner's face meant…trouble for him. Uh oh, he may think he's Bat Masterson but I have a funny feeling he's beginning to throw a little bit of Artemus Gordon into the mix. This can't be good, Jim knew he had to stop him and soon.

"Hey Bat!" He yelled, "Artie" stopped what he was doing and looked up.

"Yeah, Hardin, whaddya want?"

"I got a message for ya!"

"Oh yeah? From who…yer Great Aunt Maude maybe?" "Artie" chided.

"She's your Aunt, Bat, not mine. And the answer is no…a cavalry soldier was just here telling me you're going to get a visitor pretty soon. He's a very important man so don't shoot first and ask questions later, okay?" Jim tried, hoping Artie would listen to him this time, so far so good, Jim mused, no shots fired yet.

"We'll see, Hardin. But he can't be all that important if he's gonna take your side," "Artie" shouted.

"You'll just have to wait and see, pal," Jim yelled back.

"Why does he keep calling me pal and why does that seem to make me feel calmer?" "Artie" asked himself.

"Artie" leaned back against the rocks and stared up the hill. He didn't quite know what to make of Hardin. He was a puzzle he wasn't sure he wanted to solve. This Hardin is somehow different from the one I remember. When I look at him I seem to remember some one from my past who I think cared about me but…Damnit! I just wish I didn't have all these thoughts jumbled up inside my head. It's giving me a headache, "Artie" groaned as he closed his eye trying to make the world stop spinning.

Grant spurred his horse to pick up the pace. He wanted to set off at an all out run but he knew that wouldn't do the horses any good not to mention the man he was rushing to help. Evans pulled up along side of him and watched his Commander in Chief as he rode onward.

Evans had made a note of the somber look on Grant's face and the lack of sounds at all coming from the group. If he didn't know better Evans would have thought this was a funeral procession. The only noises at all were the sounds of the horse's hooves pounding the trail. Even the sentries whispered their reports to their Captain, not wanting to disturb the President. Evans decided someone needed to break the dreadful silence.

"Sir, we have to discuss how you intend to approach Mr. Gordon. When we reach them you can't just barge right up there and demand he listen to you."

"What would you suggest, Harry?"

"If you try to force his memory to return it could have dire consequences. If his memory returns contrary to the way it is supposed to he could feel threatened and react in a way that could get you both killed."

"I don't want to do anything to upset him, Harry, but we have to do something."

"I know we do, Mr. President. I think Mr. West's idea is a sound one for the most part. I can't allow him to be drugged to the point of unconsciousness; that would be even more dangerous than trying to force his memories to come back to him."

"Is there anything you can give him that will slow him down, not render him unconscious?" Evans thought for a moment before answering.

"There is one thing we can try but it's risky. If I spike his water what's to stop him from making you test it?"

"You let me worry about that. You just do whatever you can to make sure Artemus will be all right," Grant said with a determined look on his face.

"You really care about him, don't you?" Evans asked.

"Yes, I suppose I do."

"Mind if I ask why?" Evans hoped he wasn't prying.

"No, but now is not the time to go into that. Maybe you can try asking me again after this is all over," Grant urged his horse on, preventing any further attempts Evans could make to delve into the Grant-Gordon relationship.

Jim heard the column of soldiers approaching and hoped "Artie" didn't. He motioned for them to be quiet and was pleased when they halted and dismounted. Jim turned back toward his friend and once again peeked around the rock. "Artie" was still sitting there, leaned back against a rock, deep in thought.

Pal, I don't know what's going through that mixed up head of yours but I hope your visitor is about to find out, Jim thought as he pushed off the rock and made his way down the hill toward the President.

"Sir," Jim whispered as Grant neared him.

"Why are you whispering, Mr. West?"

"What? Oh, sorry, sir. I guess I'm just a bit nervous, I don't want Artie to hear and freak out."

"Fully understandable, son. Now, before I head into the lion's den why don't YOU tell me what's been going on here."

Jim told Grant in detail everything that had happened since Artie's accident, Grant wincing in parts and Evans nodding or shaking his head. When Jim told them that "Artie" was still throwing up Evans head snapped up and he looked at Jim.

"We need to put our plan into action immediately, gentlemen," Evans replied with haste, "We've no time to spare."

"What do you know that I have a feeling we might not want to know, Harry?" Grant asked, not sure he really wanted to know.

"If Mr. Gordon is still throwing up and all he is taking in is water, then that tells me he has far more than just a simple concussion."

"Mr. West, is it possible he is running a fever?"

"I'm sure he is, Doctor, but he won't let me get near enough to him after that first night when I bandaged him to get a good look. If you look at him his face is flushed, and he's sweating even now, when it's sundown and there's a nice breeze."

"I was afraid of that…" Evans paused.

"Well, don't stop there man tell us the rest of it," Grant demanded.

"I believe, now this is just supposition on my part without a thorough hands on examination mind you, that the infection has reached his blood stream. Gentlemen we may have to step up the pace a bit and force our hand."

"Are we in time, Evans?" Grant asked almost pleadingly.

"I hope so, sir, I sincerely hope so."