THE NIGHT OF THE MISSING CHILDREN

By Andamogirl

WWW

ACT ONE

Unconscious, Artemus Gordon didn't hear the mountain lion let out an angry hiss.

He didn't see it let go before leaving at top speed as an arrow brushed its fur, vanishing behind a group of lodge pines.

Kneeling beside the seriously injured white man, a young Crow warrior touched Artemus's shoulder nudging him softly.

He waited for an answer, but received nothing.

He pressed two fingers against the injured man's throat covered with blood and nodded. "He's still alive," Black Wolf said. He looked up at his older brother standing two steps away from him, bow and arrow ready in case the mountain lion came back. "We have to take him to the campsite. Half-Moon will save his life."

Red Eagle frowned. "Why? He's a white man. I don't care about white men."

Black Wolf insisted. "I do. They're not all bad. Black Bear has white men amongst his friends. He's bleeding a lot; we don't have time to build a travois to transport him."

Suddenly they heard the high, shrill call of the eagle they had spotted in the sky earlier, making circles and intrigued by its behavior had followed it… here.

They looked up at the golden eagle stooping towards them in a rapid glide. The majestic and sacred bird landed gracefully on the top of a high tree. The male golden eagle let out short calls while opening his broad wings wide, then it flew away headed back toward the immense sky.

Suddenly they both heard a neigh and saw a horse come out from behind a group of lodge pines. Lockpick stopped beside his master and sniffed his face.

He whined in distress.

Black Wolf gently raised the white man in his arms and hoisted him across his saddle. He secured him there with a rope.

He jumped on his own horse and took Lockpick reins. He watched his older brother mount his horse. "Let's head back to the campsite!"

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The Wanderer, at the same time

Jim opened the Denver Herald and removed the entertainment pages to give them to… Artemus. It was an automatic gesture he had made for years now.

But the chair in front of him was empty. Artemus wasn't there.

As he put the special pages back in place Jim began to muse: He always thought that Artie was going to return any minute now, but he would not return before several weeks. He missed his companion – a lot. He was lonely, accustomed to having Artie at his side. Solo missions were extremely rare. Artemus and he were together – most of the time.

He frowned suddenly feeling oppressed, a sensation of dread curling in his stomach and continued his musing: Artie's mission was a long and dangerous one. He wouldn't be at his best friend's side if he needed help and Artemus Gordon was a magnet for trouble…He had been reluctant to let Artie go alone on that assignment, feeling that something bad would definitely happen. But President Grant's orders were clear. Artemus had a mission – a very important mission that only he could accomplish, and he had to stay there, in the Wanderer, in case the President needed him on another assignment. His intuition never deceived him... something bad would happen to Artie.

He gasped as an involuntary shudder traveled up his spine and he paled, feeling icy cold. He swallowed around the knot in his throat, gooseflesh rising on his skin.

He knew then that something very bad had happened to Artemus. His mouth went dry with fear: Artie was in danger.

He knew it.

Artie needed help.

He let out, "Artie! I'm coming buddy."

He dropped the newspaper on the table and stood.

He took the end of the speaking tube, hidden in the faux-fireplace but true emergency exit, and called the fireman, "Henry! I want the Wanderer repaired now!"

Then he moved toward the telegraph key to send a message to Colonel Richmond to tell his CO what he intended to do.

He would be disobeying the President's direct orders, but knew that Grant wouldn't court-martial him and send him to a federal prison for the rest of his life.

He loved Artemus Gordon like he was his own son. He would encourage him to follow his intuition and to go to the rescue of his partner.

He opened the box of faux-books and pulled out the telegraph key.

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Later, under Half Moon's tepee

Half-Moon, the Crow Medicine Man, called Akbaalia (healer), knelt beside the injured white man lying on a nest of thick blankets along the border of the shelter, beside the fireplace, from which smoke escaped through a hole in the top of the buffalo skins tepee.

He looked terrible. His mouth was slightly open, his breath labored. Blood was everywhere, seeping through the other man's torn clothes and dripping into the thick wool.

The medicine man touched Artemus's throat with two fingers. The white man's pulse was strong but erratic. He touched his brow then and found the skin there damp and very hot.

Half-Moon frowned searching through his memory. He knew that face… never forgot one. But he couldn't place it. Yet.

He pulled off his wet coat, his thick cowichan sweater and shirt all shredded and stained with blood dropping them in a pile on the buffalo-fur-covered floor. Then he removed the white man's boots, socks and after that undid the pants clinging to his legs. Once he had removed everything damp with water and blood, which is everything but his long warm underwear, he finally pulled off Artemus's long-johns, to have access to the other man's injuries. He noticed that the white man's arms, hands and chest were deeply sliced and he had a nasty bite in his neck and puckered holes in his thighs.

The lacerations were weeping and inflamed still bleeding sluggishly and had started to bruise around the edges, he noticed.

Looking up at Red Eagle and Black Wolf standing at the entrance of the large tepee, he said, "He's strong and stolid, he has a small chance to survive." He waved to Black Wolf. "Come here, Black Wolf, you're going to help me. Red Eagle, see what you can find on our guest. Search his clothes." And he pointed at the pile of ruined clothes sitting beside him.

Black Wolf knelt beside the white man, stark naked, lying on a blanket, his pale skin a contrast with all the bright red blood smudging his body, and took the water bag made from a buffalo stomach and a cloth that Half-Moon handed him. "What do you want me to do?"

Half-Moon replied, "Clean him, while I'm preparing a disinfecting potion."

Nodding the young warrior took the water bag and poured a little water on the fair skin, sprinkled with goosebumps and used the cloth to gently rinse the blood still seeping from the wounds, dabbing them here and there where the blood had already dried.

Moaning in pain, Artie stirred and regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open and he grunted before clenching his teeth. He breathing grew ragged as he felt something – no someone (fingers and cloth were sliding on his body) twitching at every painful contact with his wounds. Through blurred vision, he saw a kind of shadow light silhouette of a man who – he realized - was cleaning his numerous wounds with water sending seemingly endless waves of pain through him by doing that.

His whole body hurt! His whole body was on fire! "St-st-stop! Sto-stop!' he sputterred out, batting the Indian's hands away. "Plea-se," he croaked as tears rolled down his pale cheeks.

Black Wolf stopped – but Half-Moon shook his head, so he continued his task.

Switching from his own language to English, Black Wolf said, "You're safe. My brother and I brought you to our campsite. Half-Moon the Medicine Man is going to heal you. You're going to be alright. Just stay calm and rest."

His vision becoming clear, Artie stared at a young Indian of about 20 bent toward him, wearing two hair pipes made from beads on both sides of his long hair. "Okay… resting." Closing his eyes weakly, he whimpered, his meagre energy sucked out.

Red Eagle lifted a wallet. "I found something, Half-Moon," he said in his language, before pulling out an official identity card. "He's name is Artemus Gordon, he's…"

Half-moon nodded. "Working for the Government," he interrupted the warrior. "I knew that I knew his face. I met him years ago. He's a friend of Black Bear."

Black Wolf gently moved Artemus onto his stomach to have access to the back of his neck and the white man, barely conscious whimpered pitifully.

The young Indian gasped in surprised seeing Artie's back crisscrossed with scars… and touched the ones left by the eagle's talons. "Look!" he said, amazed – and impressed.

Both Half-Moon holding his herbal concoction in a buffalo hide pouch and Red Eagle joined the younger man pointing at the rounded scars.

Half-Moon nodded. "I had heard stories about great Crow warriors being marked by a dúuptakoische (eagle in Crow language), but never saw such marks. That man was marked by the dúuptakoische, sacred messenger between Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people. The dúuptakoische did that to show everyone seeing those marks that Akbaatatdia is protecting that man."

Red Eagle nodded. "There was a golden eagle flying in the sky when Red Eagle and I found the white man and chased away the iishbíia (mountain lion in Crow language) which had attacked him. It was flying above him, signaling where he was," he said.

The healer nodded. "It means that the dúuptakoische is protecting him too. He led you to that man and you saved his life. The dúuptakoische protects greatest warriors only…"

Black Wolf frowned and looked down at Artie's grimacing and sweaty face. "What? Greatest warriors? But he's not a warrior, he's a white man. How is that possible?"

The Medicine Man shook his head. "Akbaatatdia has its reasons – and I don't know them." He bent towards the white man's lower back to observe the small eagle-shape black tattoo which was there, between his shoulder blades. "He has a tattoo signaling that he was adopted by a band or a tribe… it's a Comanche design, I recognize it. He's an adoptive Comanche. He was probably tattooed after the eagle marked him – as a souvenir of that glorious day. He probably has a non-white name too." He rolled Artie on his back and cupped his face observing the features behind a week's worth of stubble. "I remember him telling stories to Black Bear, of when he was an officer during the great war… He fought many battles – and earned those scars."

Black Wolf looked down at the injured white man with awe. "He's really a great warrior." He smiled. "I'm sure that the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above sent this man to help us."

Red Eagle looked down at Artie's prone form. "No, what that man wants is to talk to Black Bear to persuade him to recall us."

Red Eagle frowned. "He could?"

Half-Moon shrugged. "I don't think so, but I'm not taking the risk." He pointed at the unconscious man. "He won't see Black Bear; he'll stay here, with us."

Half-Moon nodded. "Red Eagle is right. We can't let him persuade Black Bear. We must find the children, even if we have to start a war against the white people. But you're right too, Black Wolf. He's here to help us – but we don't know how, yet." He poured his disinfectant on Artie's neck injury first.

His eyes fluttering open again, Artemus groaned, his eyes darting around the place. He recognized Black Wolf's face framed by two hair pipes made from beads hanging on both sides of his hair and whispered his voice sounding weary and beaten, "You… Crow… warrior?"

Smiling the young warrior nodded and spoke in English again, "Yes, I am a Crow warrior. My name is Black Wolf. I'm the younger son of White Crow, the chief of the Crow warriors." He placed his hand on his older brother's shoulder. "And this is my older brother, Red Eagle."

Artie noticed that Red Eagle was wearing his hair differently than his brother: he was wearing his hair in two braids wrapped in the fur from a beaver. He had two eagle feathers, one tied to his hair on the back of his head, and the other resting on the top of his shoulders.

Half-Moon wore his hair in two braids wrapped in the fur from an otter and he had a bison scalp headdress with horns and beaded rim.

He introduced himself, in English, "I am Half-Moon; I'm the Akbaalia, the medicine man."

Slowly turning his head towards the older Indian Artemus licked his chapped lips and said, "Need… meet… Black Bear."

Half-Moon nodded. "You will, later," he lied. "I need to heal you first. What is your non-white name? I saw your tattoo. It's Comanche. Only Comanche wear tattoos like that. You are an adoptive Comanche."

Licking his broken lips again, tasting blood there, Artie croaked, "Strong Bear…" he said, then, exhausted he passed out.

Black Wolf smiled and in Crow language said, "Strong Bear… it's a strong name. I met a group of Comanche once from the southern plains, far away. I was a little boy. They traded horses with my father."

Half-Moon nodded. "I know. I was at his side. Comanche are great warriors." He poured the herbal liquid disinfectant on Artemus's chest then and Artie immediately regained consciousness, small moans escaping his lips.

He grunted and tried weakly to push away the Medicine Man. "Enough… hurts." He glanced at his trembling and deeply lacerated hands and murmured, "Love cats… Had a cat when I was a little boy… called White Socks. He often scratched my hands… But this… this is butchery. "

Half-Moon nodded and shifted to English. "I treated your wounds with a disinfectant to fight the infection and your wounds will heal, and there won't be any scar left thanks to a special healing ointment I prepared."

Lowering his aching hands a weak smile spread across Artie's face and he said, "I should commercialize those Indians healing ointments. I would make a fortune."

Half-moon smiled and began spreading a thick layer of greasy ointment on Artemus's wounds. The strong, acrid, scent immediately made Artie dizzy and nauseous.

He swallowed the bile welling in his throat.

He grimaced. It stung and itched. He tried to scratch his other hand but the old Crow caught his wrist and pinned it to the ground.

Half-Moon shook his head. "No! You will remove the ointment doing that. Do that again, and I will tie you up, Strong Bear." He took another pouch and brought it to Artie's lips. "Drink, that potion is going to get rid of your fever." He placed Artemus's head on his lap and the white man took a sip and grimaced. "You have to drink all of it," he commanded.

Glaring at the Akbaalia Artie complied reluctantly, grimacing all the way. Once the pouch was empty, Half-Moon moved back, and covered his patient's naked body with two warm blankets. "Now, you have to rest," he said, adding pieces of wood to the fire.

He sat cross-legged beside Artemus and Black Wolf and Red Eagle, all three watching Artemus who closed his eyes, exhausted to his core.

His breathing started to slow and the pain subsided progressively. "Need to talk to… to…" he trailed off his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. Then he slipped into a feverish doze, head lolling to one side, mouth slightly open.

Black Wolf looked at Half-Moon. "Is he our prisoner?" he asked in his mother tongue.

The Akbaalia nodded. "Until we find the children yes, after that he will be free and we shall return to the reservation." He placed a hand on Black Wolf's arm. "As you seem to like him, you will stay with him, be his shadow."

Black Wolf frowned. "You mean his guard?... but, he's protected by Akbaatatdia, the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above, is going to be angry at us."

Red Eagle nodded. "But keeping that man here with us is perhaps a part of Akbaatatdia's high scheme to help us, brother. We don't know."

Black Wolf wasn't convinced, afraid of Akbaatatdia's anger. "Perhaps. But I don't want to be his guard. That man should be respected like a great warrior, be an honored guest, not taken prisoner."

Red Eagle frowned. "You will obey Half-Moon, brother. He's our leader in the absence of White Crow and Black Bear."

Black Wolf nodded reluctantly. "I will obey."

Half-Moon stood. "Red Eagle and I need to discuss our next move to avoid the whites and find the missing children. You stay here and take care of him, cool him down, give him water… I'll be absent for a moment. If his state worsens, come to tell me."

Black Wolf nodded.

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Later

It was the middle of the afternoon when Artemus regained consciousness rasping, "Jim…" then mumbled something incomprehensible.

Immediately Black Wolf, who was sculpting a bird in a piece of wood with his sharp knife, dropped them to the ground. Taking a cloth and a buffalo hide bucket filled with water he moved toward the haggard and feverish prisoner, crouching beside him.

He soaked the cloth in the water, wrung it out then wiped it across Artemus's burning cheeks, forehead and neck, cooling him down. "I'm going to take care of you, Strong Bear," he said, in English. Then he brought a pouch containing water to the other man's parched lips. "You have fever, you need to drink, a lot," and he smiled when Artie sluggishly sipped a little water.

Blinking in confusion, his eyes glazed with fever, Artie pushed the blankets from his body and that simple motion left him feeling impossibly weak. "Need to go… mission." He tried to prop himself on his elbows but he just didn't have the energy. He let out a frustrated grunt, colors and shapes swimming through his vision. "Black Bear… need to talk to him… very important… urgent."

Black Wolf shook his head. "You're injured and you have fever. You can't go anywhere…" He hesitated and reluctantly added, "… And I won't let you go." He touched Artie's forehead frowning in worry at the furnace heat of his skin. "You have a high fever."

Closing his eyes Artie drifted off into a troubled sleep. Black Wolf moved back where he was seated before and re-started sculpting his bird.

Half an hour later Artemus's fever worsened and he mumbled incoherently, sometimes calling "Jim, help me," and talking in a language Black Wolf didn't know.

He started to thrash about.

Deeply worried, the young Crow warrior left the tepee and came back a few minutes later accompanied by Half-Moon.

Half-Moon knelt beside his 'patient'. Artemus was now panting heavily, his face drawn, his eyes watery and clouded with pain. He looked half-dead. He touched Artie's forehead. He was really was burning up, he was shivering, his teeth were chattering.

Black Wolf looked at the Akbaalia with concern. "Is he going to die?"

The old Medicine Man shook his head. "Not if I can help – besides, the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above is protecting him. It won't let him die."

He unwrapped Artemus from the blankets covering him and took a look at his wounds. The one on his neck was angry red and purple and swollen. It was oozing pus. Unmistakable signs of infection.

Moaning miserably Artemus grabbed a blanket and snuggled up under it in a fetal position, his whole body shaken with spasms.

Half-Moon took two buffalo hide buckets and handed them to the younger man. "Bring me snow and ice; I need to cool him down."

Black Wolf left the tepee in a flash and came back a couple of minutes later, holding two buckets filled with snow and ice.

He was ready to pour them on top of the white man – cleared of his blanket and rolled in a trembling ball – when the Medicine Man lifted his hand. "No! This is not the right way to cool him down. His body would produce more heat to defend itself from cold. Put the buckets beside the fire, and when the water is cool, and not cold, we will wrap him in the blankets again and soak them. But first, I have to heal that infected bite…" While Black Wolf placed the buckets beside the fire, he moved towards the other side of the tepee where he had stocked his remedies.

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Later

Black Wolf touched Artemus's forehead. He was still burning up. "His fever is still high," he said to Half-Moon crouched on the other side of the white man.

Half-Moon nodded. "The herbs I placed against the bite are going to get rid of the infection. But it will take some time."

Suddenly Artemus threw his head backward and began panting, eyes wide open and glassy, unfocused. "Nooo, please…" he said with a distressed whimper. "No, you can't be dead… Jim! … No… not traitor… Jim is not a human-bomb… Oh god! What am I going to do without you? You're dead…" Tears rolled to his cheeks. He giggled. "Your coffee is awful… need to clean the galley… maybe some flowers… I want my cat Marmalade…Oh Lily… I love you so much… but your mother's a dragon…"

Half-Moon nodded and explained, "He's going to see things that are not here and talk to persons who aren't here, it's because of the high fever."

Raising his hand Artie touched Black Wolf's jawline. "Beware! There's a tiger… No! He's going to eat you Jim!" he smiled. "A tiger behind the door… That's a good one!" He frowned. "Oh! There's a ghost… Do you believe in ghosts Jim?" He dropped his hand, limply. "She talks…her name's Caroline… We're trapped with rats…" His breathing accelerated and his body was racked with huge shudders. "I'm dead, I was killed… no that's not me, another… me. I died in your arms, Jim. Gettysburg… canon, shells, so many dead, blood everywhere, the grass is red…" He saluted limply and rasped, "Yes, General, Sir… I'm gonna take your place… can't go there alone, it's too dangerous." He chuckled and said, "I'm-I'm an expert marksman with small targets…A crowd gathering out there… yes, two gophers and a jackrabbit." He smiled. "My Great Aunt Maude… best thing is… is to upset-upset the chessboard…" He grimaced and suddenly rolled in a ball, rocking as he pressed his face against his knees, grimacing in pain.

Burying his face in the blanket he was laying on, Artie cried openly. Black Wolf couldn't help but pat his shoulder in a soothing gesture.

Half-Moon stared at the young warrior, smiling. "You like him a lot," he said.

Black Wolf nodded. "I can't explain it. Can you?"

The Medicine Man shook his head. "No, I can't - because I can't read your heart, Black Wolf. But there's a reason, I'm sure."

Little by little Artemus calmed down and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

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Two days later

The loud and long howling of a (close) wolf woke Artemus with a start. He looked around him both confused and disoriented.

He blinked. "Wha…? Not… dead?" he croaked, very surprised to be still alive.

He glanced around him and realized that he was lying on a blanket, protected from the harsh winter weather by a big tepee. It was dim and quiet inside, the silence barely disturbed by the breath of the wind outside and the crackling fire placed in the center of the fireplace.

He heard another noise and turned his head to the other side. He looked up at Black Wolf sitting on one of the buffalo-hide seats which were arranged around the edge of the tepee. He noticed that the young warrior was sculpting a little buffalo and his mother in a piece of soft wood, with his knife.

Black Wolf shook his head, smiling. "No, you're not dead, Strong Bear. The One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above, Akbaatatdia, protects you. It has sent an eagle to show us where you were and we found you. " He leaned forward and felt Artemus's forehead with the back of his hand and said, "You're going to be alright."

Feeling totally drained, Artie smiled too, weakly. "I don't remember telling you my Comanche name… and I don't remember your name either…"

Black Wolf touched his chest. "Shipíte-cheéte."

Artie nodded. "Black Wolf – it's a beautiful name." He smiled seeing that the warrior was very surprised. "I speak Crow language – just a little. Black Bear taught me basic vocabulary a long time ago…" He pointed at the small sculpture. "That's beautiful…" Then he touched his neck and felt a makeshift bandage wrapped around it. He immediately winced. "Ow!"

Black Wolf settled his sculpture on the blanket-covered ground as well as his sharp knife and explained, "The bite got infected and you had a high fever. Half-Moon, the Medicine Man placed special herbs on it and wrapped a cloth around your neck. It still hurts, but your fever is almost gone and you look a lot better, Strong Bear. You're going to be alright."

Artemus smiled. "That's good news." He rubbed his face with a trembling hand. "I don't remember much… just that mountain lion who wanted to kill me and then eat me." He observed his hand – noticing that the gashes were on their way to healing. "I must say that… those Indian remedies are very potent." He looked again at the young warrior intrigued. "You speak English very well…"

Smiling, pleased by the compliment, Black Wolf said, "Thank you. My mother taught me your language. This will allow you to understand the enemy and fight it better, she told me before teaching it to me, when I was little. She's a very wise woman."

Frowning, a bit upset, Artie said, "I'm not the enemy. I have many Indian friends in several tribes and I'm even an adoptive Comanche."

Black Wolf nodded. "I know that, Strong Bear. And we're not at war with the whites… But they took our children, and we want them back. We will do whatever is necessary to find them."

Nodding Artie said, "I understand…" He glanced around him again; surprised that Black Wolf and he were alone in the big tepee. "Where are the others?"

Black Wolf moved closer to the fire and added some pieces of wood to it. "We're alone. They left to find the missing children. I don't know when they will return." Ill at ease, he said, "I was left here to guard you. Half-Moon and my brother Red Eagle don't want you to talk to Black Bear. They think that you could persuade him to order us to come back to the reservation."

His stomach growling suddenly, Artie grimaced and said, "I'm hungry – no, famished," and was surprised when Black Wolf handed him a rawhide bag containing two balls of powered dried buffalo meat mixed with fat and cranberries and chokeberries.

Black Wolf said, "I thought you would." Sliding two folded blankets under Artemus's head, he added; "You're a prisoner."

Biting hungrily into a ball of pemmican, Artie chewed a piece of it, swallowed and said, "I gathered that. But this thing must come to an end – I'm talking about the Crows wandering outside the reservation, about the dead people on each side, about the soldiers searching for you, about a possible war brewing…" famished, he devoured another piece of pemmican and continued, "I was sent here to find the children…"

Black Wolf was puzzled. "You? Alone?"

Still hungry Artie gulped the last piece of Indian food and nodded. "Yes, alone. The children were – apparently, kidnapped by white men and they are probably being detained somewhere outside of the reservation – I don't know where, and I don't know why they were kidnapped, but I do know that – as a white man – I can go anywhere in the whole region to find them – and you can't. That's why, I will find them, even if it takes me weeks. I will bring them back home, to their parents. But first, I have to talk to Black Bear. Crow warriors must return to the reservation." He placed a clammy hand on Black Wolf's arm. "And you're going to help me."

Black Wolf shook his head. "I can't. I can't disobey both Red Eagle and Half-Moon."

Propping himself on one elbow, wincing, Artie said, "You're reluctant to guard me because you know that my mission is the right thing to do."

Black Wolf shook his head, "No, because you have been marked by an eagle, sacred messenger between the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above, Akbaatatdia. The dúuptakoische did that to show everyone seeing those marks that Akbaatatdia is protecting you. You are a great warrior; you should be an honored guest, and not a prisoner."

Seizing the opportunity, Artemus said, "What do you prefer? Being scolded by Red Eagle and Half-Moon or make the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above… angry at you. Because it will, believe me, no, it already is angry. It's protecting me. Offending me, is offending it. Let me go, Black Wolf, come with me, help me and Akbaatatdia will spare you his anger."

Still afraid of Akbaatatdia's anger, Black Wolf nodded. "I'm going to help you."

WWW

Fort Brennan,

Much later, at sunset

Black Wolf slid gracefully off his mustang and offered his hand to Artemus, who dismounted Lockpick with less grace than his young Indian companion.

Immediately three soldiers pointed their rifles at the Crow warrior. Artie immediately moved in front of him, sending the other men his best glare. "He's with me!" he said. "Lower your rifles or I promise you big trouble in short order!"

One of the privates, a massive red-haired man took a step forward, not impressed. He glanced at Black Wolf, contempt reflected on his face. "That Indian should be in his reservation, not here…" Then he looked at Artie from head to toe and he asked, "Who the hell are you to give us orders? I don't take orders from trappers who dress like Crows…"

Barely keeping his cool, pulling his wallet from the inside of his belt, Artie opened it and showed his identity card to the soldier. "My name is Artemus Gordon; I'm a Special Agent of the Secret Service working under the President's direct orders. I need to see your commanding officer."

The private immediately froze and saluted. "Yes Sir. I'm sorry, Sir. I-I couldn't know…" He lowered his rifle and his friends did too. Then he ran toward the CO's office.

Black Wolf looked around him, feeling a bit apprehensive. "It's the first time I enter a fort… All the soldiers are looking at me…" and he moved his hand to his knife.

Smiling reassuringly, Artie said, "They won't do anything to you; relax. They are just curious. Most of them have never seen a Crow…"

Dressed in an immaculate uniform, a Colonel joined his men two minutes later and saluted in his turn. "I'm Colonel Foster, commanding officer of Fort Brennan garrison, Sir." He said then smiled. "Welcome to Fort Brennan, we were searching for you."

Artemus was surprised. "For me?"

Colonel Foster nodded. "Yes, Mr. Gordon. We received a telegram three days ago from your colleague, James West. He thought that you were in grave danger, possibly dying, and asked me to send patrols to find you. It seems… that you were in quite a predicament…"

Artie nodded. "You can say that… Jim's intuition was right, as always. I unfortunately encountered a mountain lion on the way…"

Colonel Foster nodded. "I suggest you to go to the infirmary, Mr. Gordon. Lieutenant Harris is a very good medical officer."

Looking at Black Wolf Artemus said, "Black Wolf is my protégé, Colonel, and thus under the Government's protection too. He'll be respected and treated here like a guest."

Forster nodded. "Of course. By the way, Mr. West, he's on his way here. He should arrive in two days. He's riding day and night…"

Placing a friendly hand on the Crow warrior's shoulder Artie grinned, very happy at the news. "I'm going to wait for him… in your infirmary." His legs buckled under him. He was fading, fast. His strength sucked out. He closed his eyes and drifted to blackness.

Black Wolf caught Artie in his arms before he hit the cold, icy ground and lifted the other man in his strong arms as if he weighed nothing.

He shivered. The temperature was dropping fast. It started to snow.

Tbc.