Wests Will Be Wests

They were more than just partners, they were also best friends for life – two comrades-in-arms who had loved one another like brothers.

"That's a great picture," Tem said, looking over his wife's shoulder. "They look so young!"

"They do, don't they?" she smiled. So young and so boundlessly cheerful in spite of all the dangers they faced. Tem and Amanda had to chuckle a little at the way their fathers had posed for the photographer. Handsome, athletic and prodigiously talented, Jim West never had any real reason to feel self-conscious, but he'd always been just a little bit embarrassed about the fact that his Secret Service partner was a couple of inches taller than him.

"It made him feel better about having Dr. Loveless for an archenemy," Artemus Gordon had joked on a couple of occasions. "Anyone could feel taller around that guy!"

As proof of the great James West's one small insecurity, the family had noticed how Jim always tried to pose for pictures in such a way as to make him appear to be the taller one. This photograph was no exception. Artemus Gordon was slumped just a little sideways while his partner stood behind him with one hand on his shoulder. Arte had never minded. After all, he knew which one was really taller. Both men looked happy as clams, beaming for the camera. A friendship preserved forever through the lens.

"I thought they belonged up here," Amanda said, carefully hanging the framed photograph on the wall of Wanderer II that overlooked the partnership desk.

"They sure do." Tem liked to think that the two men – and their wives – were still watching over them all, if not quite as closely as when Tem and Amanda were dating. "Looks like they've got us under watch again!"

Amanda groaned, but kept the photo where it was, straightening it out just a bit.

"Yes, it wasn't easy, was it?" She turned to face her husband. "It's a good thing they approved of our relationship. You don't get much privacy when your fathers are the country's best spies!"

"At least we managed to get some," Tem said, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a quick kiss. "Sure you want to put it there? Might still give them ideas, you know."

"Oh, I'm sure our Moms are capable of keeping them distracted, even where they are." She returned the kiss with one that was less quick and innocent. "Besides, it was sort of cute in a way."

"You mean how we heard them whooping and celebrating from three rooms away when I proposed and you said yes?" They both looked at one another and began shaking with laughter at the memory.

"Oh, lord," Amanda whispered, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Yes, well hopefully He has better sound-proofing!"

They both started laughing again. With effort, they managed to get themselves under control. Looking around the train car, Tem sighed with a trace of regret. He knew what he was in the mood for right now, and he was pretty sure Amanda was in the mood for the same thing. But they'd already resolved they were absolutely going to finish unpacking and organizing their belongings today before they did anything else, drat the luck. Work, such as it was, before play.

Hard to believe they'd been living on this train for six weeks already and were only just now finishing the job of getting their possessions squared away. Of course, it wasn't as if that had been their only job to do since leaving Murfreesboro a month before. Victims of their own success, that's what they were. President Roosevelt and Colonel Longworth had been so delighted with what they'd accomplished in routing the enemy so far that surely no one else would be better suited to handle a few more of the Secret Service's more challenging cases . . . .

But now after all of that, Wanderer II was at last headed back to Chicago, and the agents to some well-deserved rest. Vacation wasn't all that awaited them in Millwood Grove. The difficult but vital task of Jeremy-proofing the Gordon residence still needed to be completed, and getting Kate and Jeremy and all of their belongings moved was going to be a job and a half in itself. That's what families were for, though.

Meanwhile, they all had their assigned chores to do today. Amanda was in charge of putting the last decorative touches in place to make this train look and feel more like the home that it really was now, and to finish rearranging or repacking the last few boxes of two generations' worth of mementos. Jimmy was elsewhere on the train, theoretically doing the homework the Denver training center had assigned him, but more likely Jimmying, i.e. tinkering with his seemingly endless array of gadgets and spare mechanical parts. And Tem . . . . Tem was in charge of sorting through the very large and cumbersome-looking pile of mail, correspondence, report requests, etc. that had been forwarded to them in a lump by Washington the day before. Just looking at the stack was enough to make Tem want to yawn and procrastinate. He preferred to leave all the official bureaucratic stuff to Amanda, she was so much better at it than he was. Still, fair is fair.

Unable to avoid such mail-delivered martyrdom, Tem took his seat at the partnership desk and began picking through to see what could go in the Out box and what required immediate attention in the In box so to speak. Jimmy's scientific journals here, letter to Amanda from her old college in that pile for her, official correspondence blah blah blah over there, ooh – a new Sears Roebuck mail order catalog! They'd all want to get a look at that! Maybe this wasn't such a bad job after all, no, wait, invoice from Horseman's Quarterly magazine, more boring stuff . . . .

Tem's eyes were getting ready to glaze over with tedium again when they happened upon a letter envelope with a recent postmark and their friend Bill Jeffers' return address. Tem knew he was supposed to sort first, open later, but surely it wouldn't hurt to take a quick glance at the Marshal's letter. It might be something important, after all, something he should prioritize. With half the stack still waiting to be gone through, Tem took the opportunity to slit open the envelope and remove a couple of hand-scripted letter sheets and a small photograph that fell into his hands along with them. Without looking at the photo first, Tem eagerly began reading the letter. He couldn't help but grin as the Marshal's words poured off the page, but it was a peek at the photograph that made him start barking with more laughter.

"What's so funny?" Amanda asked, coming over to see for herself.

"Letter from Bill," Tem said, holding up the pages. "Seems he and your friend Miss Mapp are really hitting it off. They're even talking about setting a date!" Then he showed her the accompanying photo of the happy couple.

Bill Jeffers looked splendid in his new alligator-skin boots, his new alligator-skin vest, and his new alligator-skin Stetson. A much more smiling Lucy Mapp was equally resplendent in her new dress with matching alligator-skin pocketbook and yes, alligator-skin gun belt.

"Oh my!" Amanda gasped.

"Well, he did say no one tries to make a meal out of him and gets away with it!" Tem chuckled.

"And he's a man of his word," Amanda nodded approvingly before handing back the photograph. "I do hope it works out for them. She's such a capable woman and she's led such a hard life."

Tem, with one quick flip of his arm managed to scoop his wife into his lap before planting a big wet kiss on her.

"I think I married a pretty capable woman myself!" he said.

"Do you, now, Mr. West?" She put her arms around his shoulders.

"I do indeed, Mrs. West."

The remaining mail stack picked a very inconvenient moment to slide sideways and fall onto the floor. It would have been more fun if they hadn't noticed, but they were both very observant people.

"I suppose we should pick that up," Amanda sighed, wriggling out of his lap.

Tem didn't see what was the matter with having a little clutter on the floor, personally. He tried to latch onto her again, but she evaded his grasp.

"Work before play, remember?" She leaned down and ran a teasing finger along the bridge of his nose. Tem resigned himself to duty with only a slight grumble. One positive aspect to his wife's I.O.U.s – she always repaid them with interest.

Going over and through the rest of the hoarded-up month of mail was less enjoyable. It did include one other bit of good news – a brief letter from Danny Elser assuring them that Agent Hamilton's recovery was going well. One more life snatched from the vicious jaws of the enemy.

At last the final envelope was sliced, the last cardboard cartons emptied or stowed away. Tem had to hand it to his wife's artistic talent. Wanderer II was definitely looking a lot homier and more welcoming thanks to her deft touch with décor. He'd have to reward her properly for that, of course . . . .

"Playtime?" he asked, eyebrows raised in hope.

"Playtime," she affirmed.

With a whoop of his own, he swept Amanda up into his arms and proceeded to carry her over the threshold into their private living quarters. They were just unfastening the first of their many buttons when the bookcase sneezed.

Bookcases don't normally sneeze. As they stared at it in sudden, mute astonishment, it sneezed again. There was a very familiar quality to those sneezes too. Amanda leapt up from the bed and began tearing books off the shelves to reveal not the world's most impressive disguise artist, but rather a small device the size and shape of an egg attached to a long strand of thin wire that ran behind the bookcase, underneath the carpeting and floor strip, out the door and up to the ceiling and, no doubt, other parts.

"Jimmy!" Amanda scowled.

Tem had to chuckle. The device was inconvenient and damned inconsiderate, but he admired his brother-in-law's ingenuity.

"Well, do you think this is 'sort of cute' too?" he teased, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Who knows? Maybe he really is practicing the homework Denver gave him."

Amanda wasn't amused – she was blushing red and furious.

"If that's the case," she growled, "I'm going to teach him a lesson about who he's allowed to practice it on!" And if that wasn't the case, her tone implied, Jimmy was going to be even sorrier.

Tem didn't need any special listening equipment to hear his warrior queen's battle cry as she went charging out toward the other side of the main living car.

"James Ulysses Gordon, I am going to throttle you!"

Tem could appreciate the audio clarity of the egg-shaped device with other sounds though. Yes, there was Jimmy's startled yelp of alarm and the sound of equipment being dropped. Next, the hasty clatter of feet running up the metal staircase to the observation deck in the teenager's attempt at evasive maneuvers . . . . Tem managed to avoid rolling on the floor laughing long enough to pick up the egg-shaped device and disconnect the wire so that his wife could have at least some privacy. This was one dilemma his brother-in-law was going to have to get out of on his own.

"Wests will be Wests," Tem chuckled, tossing the egg-shaped object back and forth between his hands before setting it down and settling back onto the bed. He'd be able to wait just a little longer, knowing all good things come in time – and they would. Perhaps Uncle Arte and Aunt Lil had been the ones to put it best, he thought.

The show must go on!