"Hardin!" "Artie" shouted, causing Jim to have to scramble quickly to get back up to the top of the hill.
"Yeah, Bat?" He answered breathlessly.
"That visitor you been blabberin about…he here yet?" Jim noted the exhaustion creeping into his partner's voice.
"He is. You want to come up here and talk to him?"
"Nice try, Hardin, but no dice. Send him down here. And Hardin…"
"Yeah, Masterson?"
"He better show up unarmed and ALONE. Or you might not recognize what you get back."
"All right, Masterson. He's on his way up to me then I'll send him down to you."
"Mr. West," Grant whispered, "he really IS out of his mind."
"Yes, sir. Doctor Evans, did you mix the powders into the water?"
"Yes, but I must say I really don't like the looks of him, Mr. West. I only put a small amount in this canteen, Mr. President, and I didn't mix it in. I left it floating on the top so he'll get the benefits of it even if he doesn't drink the entire canteen."
"You'll have to be real good at faking it if he asks you to take a drink first, sir."
"You leave that to me, Evans. James, in case things get out of hand down there, you do whatever it takes to keep those men from shooting Artemus."
"Yes, sir," Jim replied.
"Even if it means letting Artemus shoot me. You just get him out of there safely."
"You're the boss, sir," Jim replied stoically, Grant just grinned.
"I hope you remember that in the future, Mr. West." Grant grabbed the canteen and started down the hill toward Artie.
When "Artie" recognized the figure approaching him, he sprang to his feet and almost immediately fell back. He leaned against the rock and stared open mouthed as the President of These United States, Ulysses S. Grant stopped a mere two feet away from him.
"Why don't you sit down before you fall down, son," Grant said to him as he helped him sit on a smaller rock.
"Uh…sir…uh…er…" "Artie" couldn't seem to find his tongue.
"Just sit down and listen to me, Arte…er…Bat, and here take a drink from my canteen…guaranteed fresh, clear and cold," Grant said as he handed "Artie" the drug-laced water.
"Uh…yes, sir…" "Artie" replied as he took the offered canteen and drank deeply, wiping his mouth on his sleeve when he finished.
"All right then, now that the pleasantries are out of the way why don't you tell me what all this commotion is about?" Grant sat on a rock next to him and leaned back.
"Well, sir, I have been tracking John Wesley Hardin for the better part of ten years now. I finally have him in my grasps and I just want to do my job and get him back into jail where he can't ever get out," Grant made note of the almost pleading tone in his voice and the pained looked on his face.
"I see. Tell me, Mr. Masterson, why do you think it's so important for you to put him behind bars and see that he stays there?" A glimmer of an idea was beginning to form in Grant's mind and he decided this was an avenue worth pursuing.
"That's just it, sir. I'm not really sure why it's so important. I just know it is. I mean have you ever done something over and over again no matter what it took; no matter what it cost you just because you knew it was the right thing to do? That's what it's like between me and Hardin."
"Yes, son, I know the feeling. You should come with me to a congressional session some day. Talk about doing the same thing over and over and feeling like you're getting nowhere," Grant chuckled.
"Yes, sir, I do imagine you have your hands full with that," "Artie" frowned.
"I keep trailing him and putting him behind bars because I just know it's the right thing to do, it's what I was meant to do," "Artie" was almost on the brink of tears.
Evans and Jim stood at the top of the hill, waiting for the medicine to take effect. Jim wishing it would hurry its way through his partner's veins and Evans wondering if he had gotten enough or not. Thinking quickly, Evans motioned to Grant to get him to drink more of the tainted water. Grant nodded imperceptibly and handed "Artie" the canteen and urged him to drink as they continued to talk.
Evans watched the exchange below with interest. He knew that this "Artie" was an entirely different person than the one Grant was used to talking to…but that didn't seem to be stopping him. Grant was carrying on a conversation with this "Artie" in much the same way he would talk to his Artie. Jim just wished the medicine would take effect so they could get his friend the help he so desperately needed.
"Mr. West, how long has Mr. Gordon's head wound been leaking like that?" Evans asked startling him.
"I don't think it's ever really stopped to tell you the truth, why is that a problem?"
"In this heat it could very well be. I think I know what's making Mr. Gordon so ill and if I'm right we have to get him away from those rocks as soon as possible."
"Why? Do you mean me trapping him here is what made him so sick?" Jim felt crushed.
"Don't blame yourself, Mr. West. You did the best you could under the circumstances. The rocks store heat during the day and release it at night. Basically acting like a heater of sorts. With the injury to Mr. Gordon's head and I am suspecting his leg as well, that heat is sealing the infection into his wounds."
"See that yellowish liquid oozing from his head wound? It's the infection mutating."
"Mutating? Is it serious? I mean can it…" Jim didn't dare finish the sentence.
"No, Mr. West, it won't kill your partner…at least not right away. But I believe that is perpetuating the amnesia and causing the hysteria you described earlier."
"Then let's go down there and get him out!" Jim pushed off the rock and headed toward his friend only to be stopped by Evans.
"No, Mr. West. If you approach him too quickly, you'll panic him and before any of those soldiers can react he could kill the President, you or even himself."
"Then what do you suggest? You just said being in those rocks is making him sick…we have to do something," Jim pleaded.
"We are doing something, Mr. West. We are doing the hardest job of all…we are watching and waiting while the President talks to your friend and hopefully gets him to see reason while waiting for the medication to do its job," they turned their attention back to the conversation down the hill.
"So, sir, you have to see my point. I mean why keep doing it if he just keeps getting away?" "Artie" intoned, how like my Artemus this man is, Grant thought.
"That's simple to explain, son. You do the job your country asks of you when you put on your badge and you go after these men. You do your job when you bring them back and put them in jail to stand trial for their crimes."
"But you also have to understand something. Arte…uh…Bat, your job stops once you have put these criminals safely behind bars in the hands of the law. You can't hold yourself responsible for some dumbassed jury letting men like Hardin go free."
"Think of it this way, Masterson. The court system is to blame if these men get out and go on rampages, robbing, killing and terrorizing innocent people…NOT you or any other lawman or Secret Service Agent who feels as you do," "Artie's" head snapped up at the mention of a Secret Service Agent, Grant noticed this and pressed on.
"Son, as hard as it is for you to admit…you have to know I'm right. I have a Secret Agent who works for me that feels the very same way you do. No matter what anyone says to him, even his partner whom he trusts implicitly, can get through to this man."
"Why don't you just sit him down and tell him what you've been telling me, sir? I think I understand things better now. He would too."
"Yes, Arte…uh…Bat I think I will have this same talk with him. When he's feeling up to it and a bit more like his old self," Grant said with a faraway look in his eye.
Grant took in "Artie's" hollow, sunken eyes and his fever flushed cheeks and the tired, worn out look on his face and knew he had to work fast to get him to relax so the medicine could do its job. He handed "Artie" the canteen and coaxed him to drink more.
"Sir, if I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to get me to drink drugged water," "Artie" crooked his head and looked at Grant.
"No, son, I just want to help you. Right now I can't help my friend like I so desperately want to so I'd like to help you if you'd let me."
"Well, sir, you ARE the President of These United States, I can't rightly say no to you can I? I am feelin a might poorly but I have to get Hardin back to Phoenix first."
"Son, you sure you aren't related to Artemus Gordon? His one track mind is as bad as yours seems to be," Grant smiled.
"But I tell you what…you come with me and I'll have some of my men look after Hardin, okay?" Grant said as he rose off the rock and grabbed for "Artie's" arm.
"Well, if you can't trust the President who can you trust?" "Artie" grinned as he extended his arm.
"Well, son, I know one man you can trust with your life and eventually you'll remember too," Grant replied as he motioned to Jim who signaled to the troops to close in.
EPILOG
Three long days later, Jim stood outside the door to Artie's room. Evans had been keeping him apprised of his friend's condition. Jim stood in front of the door with a heavy heart. Artemus had regained most of his memory and was getting more and more back with every passing day. President Grant had been there to see him several times, but every time Jim inquired if he could go in the answer was always a resounding no.
What if I've done something to make Artie hate me? What could I possibly have done? Jim asked himself as he stared at the doorknob. What if I go in here and it sends Artie back off the deep end? I'd rather let him go and try to get on with my life without my best friend than to risk hurting him any further. Jim just stared at the door twirling his hat in his hands.
"You have to go in sometime, son," Jim dropped his hat, startled, picked it up and came face to face with Grant.
"Uh, hello, sir."
"Hello, James. I repeat…you have to go in there some time. Whether or not Artemus thinks he wants to see you."
"But sir, he's made it perfectly clear he doesn't want to see me," Jim commented.
"James, come here for a moment," Grant gestured toward a bench in the hallway.
"I think I know why Artemus refuses to see you and that's why I'm stepping in and pulling rank, so to speak."
"Why, sir? I've been wracking my brain for the past three days…trying to figure out what I did to hurt Artie so badly that he wouldn't want to see me. If you know something, please tell me," Jim pleaded.
"Son, you haven't done anything wrong. It's Artemus. He thinks he wronged you for the way he treated you while he had amnesia…"
"But that wasn't his fault! How can he think I would hold anything he said or did against him? He's my partner for Pete's sake," Jim looked at his friend's door with sorrow written all over his features.
"Son, that is exactly why you MUST go in there, against Artemus' wishes. Someone has to make him see that he didn't fail you…that he didn't let you down. And I think you are the only man for that job."
"James, you can make him listen to reason. You can make him see that you don't harbor any ill will toward him. Only you can help him take the last step toward healing and become the Artemus Gordon we all know and love."
"I'll do my best, sir. But you know Artie…he never makes anything easy," Jim smiled as he rose and walked toward the door.
"I know, Mr. West, oh brother do I know!"
Jim slowly opened the door and entered the room. Its occupant was seated in a wheelchair beside the window watching the rain pour down in buckets. They had narrowly missed the beginning of the monsoon season and it had been raining almost non-stop for the past two days.
Jim quietly approached his friend and tossed his hat onto the bed. Artie caught the movement out of the corner of his eye but made no movement to make eye contact with his partner. Jim walked around the bed and perched on the edge. He took in his partner's solemn expression as he stared out the window.
"Well, pal, one of us has to say something…" Jim said hoping to draw his partner out of his protective shell.
"Yeah, I know," came the quiet reply.
"Artie…" Jim began, "Grant told me…"
"He had no business telling you anything," Artie snapped.
"Maybe not as President but as your friend and mine he sure as hell did."
Artie slowly rose from the chair and, ignoring Jim, limped, somewhat painfully, to the bed and sat down. Oh if Artie thinks he's going to play this his way he better think again, Jim thought, I want my partner back and I want him back now.
"Artie…I don't care who told me why you have refused to see me. I'm just glad someone had the guts to tell me what you wouldn't," Jim glared at his partner.
"Jim…I…" Artie began and paused not really knowing what to say.
"Say it, Artie. Just say it," Jim hoped making him mad would get his friend to confront his true feelings.
"Say what, Jim? That I let my best friend down? That I tried to kill my partner? That I was so out of my mind I couldn't tell it was you? Those are all petty excuses and you know it!" Good, he's getting mad, Jim almost smirked.
"Yeah, Artie…if that's what you're feeling. Say it! Yeah I know you tried to kill me but pal, you didn't let me down. You never could even if you weren't yourself."
"What do you think I did, Jim?" Artie was on the verge of putting his heart back on his sleeve where Jim felt it belonged.
"You did what you thought you had to at the time. Artie, I can't and don't blame you for anything you did. If anything I blame myself."
"Blame yourself? Why you didn't try to kill me or hurt me…did you?" Artie crooked an eyebrow at him quizzically.
"No, pal, what I did was far worse. I let my partner down when he really needed me," Artie looked at him and the walls fell away.
"Aww, Jim…how could you have let me down?"
"I saw how sick you were…I should have done something to get you out of those rocks and into this hospital a lot sooner than I did."
"James, according to Dr. Evans you did everything right. If you had tried to make a move on me any sooner than you did I could have killed one or both of us."
"Yeah, I know what Dr. Evans said…" Jim began when Artie started laughing, causing Jim to stare at him.
"Are you okay, pal?" Jim asked.
"Yeah, Jim I'm perfectly fine now. Get a load of us. Both of us punishing ourselves for the past three days for the same thing. What a couple of nutjobs we are, huh?" Artie shook his head and grinned at his friend.
"Yeah, pal, I guess we are at that," Jim smiled, glad to have his friend back.
Evans and Grant chose that moment to enter the room. Grant walked over to the window and stood there looking out while Evans performed a cursory examination of Artie and pronounced he was on the road to recovery but would require a few more days in the hospital, Artie's groans and pleas for help bringing a smile to Grant's face.
"Now, now, Artemus…don't look for or expect any help from us," Grant smiled at him, "we both had to promise we would go along with anything Dr. Evans said just to gain admittance to your room," Grant winked at Evans.
"Yeah, pal, besides I've checked Phoenix out and we were right. There isn't much here in the way of nightlife," Jim winked at him.
"Oh that's too bad for you then, Jim," Artie grinned.
"Me? Why's that, pal?" Jim asked.
"Oh no, pal o' mine, you aren't getting out of it that easy! I seem to remember you saying I won the bet. But I'll go easy on you and let you wait till we get back to Washington to pay up," Artie had an ear to ear grin on his face and Grant couldn't help but laugh.
"Now he remembers something I told him," Jim rolled his eyes and groaned.
"Yep, champagne, lovely ladies and the thickest steak the loser's money can buy was the bet I believe."
'Wait, steak was never part of the deal…" Evans and Grant just exchanged grins and rolled their eyes.
"Well, I added the steak…I feel it's the least you can do for your partner. After all I have suffered at the hands of fate…" Artie used his best stage voice.
"Oh brother…doc, isn't there something we can do to him…er I mean for him?" Jim grinned.
"Well, I do think you gentlemen should leave so he can rest. That's about all I can do for him right now, Mr. West. I don't believe there is anything science has come up with that can deal with that ego problem he has."
Artie stared open mouthed at the men as they laughed. He rolled his eyes and allowed Jim to help him get under the covers and situated in the bed. Evans told him to get some rest and Jim would be allowed to visit again tomorrow. He also warned him to leave the nurses alone…several had already threatened to quit if someone didn't get Artemus and his roving hands under control.
After the men left, Artie looked out the window and watched the rain for a while contemplating the events of the past few days. What he remembered, of course. He had wanted the missing pieces filled in but Evans had ruled against that. He said Artie's memories had to come back on their own and now that he was well on the road to recovery Evans had assured him that given time they would return.
Artie smiled, turned onto his side and closed his eyes, a smile on his face. As far as he was concerned the most important memory had returned and he didn't care if he never got any of the others back. Artie had his friend and partner back and that was all that really mattered to him. As long as Jim was by his side Artie knew all would be right with the world and no matter how many times they had to put Loveless back in prison it would be all right as long as Jim was there where he belonged and their friendship was where it belonged.
THE END