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The Night of the Afflicted Agent
A Wild West story
By Deana

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Artemus Gordon looked in the mirror as he shaved; glad that the quiet of the past few days would be shattered today by the return of his friend and partner, James West. Jim had been summoned to Reno, Nevada, to testify at a trial. Artie decided to drop him off and take the train to Carson City to pick up their wired payroll, and would be arriving back in Reno in three or four hours. Despite having enjoyed the quiet at first, it had quickly become boring, and he was eager for life to return to normal.

Suddenly, the train unexpectedly swayed as it encountered something on the track…a rock, or piece of wood. Whatever it was, Artie hadn't expected it and his hand slipped, slicing the razor into the skin under his jaw. He gasped and dropped the razor, startled to see thick drops of blood drip onto his hands. Quickly, he grabbed a towel and shoved it against the wound, staring in shock at himself in the mirror. He held it there for a minute before he started to pull it away, but shoved it back again when he saw how much blood was on the towel. A cold pit of fear filled his stomach as he came to the realization that the wound was serious, and for a minute, he didn't know what to do.

Rational thought came back to his brain as the shock wore off, and he tried to force himself to calm down as he again pulled the towel away and raised his chin to try to see the wound in the mirror. Blood instantly welled up again, making it impossible to see it clearly. The amount of blood on the towel was frightening, and it was obvious to Artie that he needed stitches.

Folding the towel to expose a clean area, he held it against the wound, wincing from the pain. He left his compartment and headed towards the front of the train, tapping their conductor, Orrin Cobb, on the shoulder, who turned around.

The conductor's eyes widened when he saw the bloody towel and he grabbed Artie's arm. "What happened?!" he exclaimed.

"I cut myself shaving and need stitches," Artie told him. "How far are we from the nearest town?"

"About an hour," Orrin said. Realization struck him. "Did it happen when we hit those rocks?"

Artie nodded.

Orrin was mortified. "I'm so sorry, Artemus!"

Artie shook his head. "It wasn't your fault." He smiled. "At least it's not on my face, so I don't have to worry about scaring away the ladies!"

Orrin attempted to smile back, knowing that Artie was trying to lighten the mood to make him feel better. "Good thing," he said. "I'll speed up so we can get there quicker."

"Thanks," Artie said, before heading back. He fetched a clean towel, headed into the main room, and sat on the couch, hoping that his detour to the doctor wouldn't cause much of a delay for Jim.

The hour passed slowly for Artie, who never managed to get the bleeding to stop. It would slow, but the slightest movement would renew the bleeding again. Finally, the train stopped, and when he went to the stable car, he found the conductor saddling his horse for him.

"How are you supposed to do it while holding that towel?" Orrin said to Artie. "The bleeding hasn't stopped?"

Artie almost shook his head, but stopped himself in time. "No. It's slowing down, though."

Orrin sighed as he lowered the platform.

"Thanks for the help," Artie said as he mounted his horse.

"No problem," Orrin answered, watching as Artie steered the horse down the platform and rode off.

Artie could see the town off in the distance, and it didn't take long to reach it. He asked the first person he spotted where the doctor's office was, and was directed to a shop only a few hundred feet away. Artie saw a group of children playing in front of the doctor's shop and in the road, so he dismounted where he was and tied his horse to a pole, before quickly walking over.

Some of the children saw the bloody towel that Artie was holding to his wound, and stared, so Artie just smiled at them and quickened his pace, striding over to the door and going inside. "Hello?" he said.

"Yes?" he heard, before a middle-aged man came walking in from a back room. "Can I help you? Ohh, what happened, young man?"

Artie sighed. "I cut myself shaving…it's pretty bad."

"Come with me, come with me," the doctor said, taking Artie's arm and leading him into the back room, where he had a table.

Artie sat on it, watching as the doctor gathered supplies.

The doctor came back and took Artie's wrist, pulling his hand away from the wound. "My my, you're right…that's certainly not good. What is your name, young man?"

"Artemus Gordon."

"Pleased to meet you, Artemus. You have quite a unique name," said the doctor. "I'm Dr. Morris." He took the towel and dropped it into a trashcan. "Is this the only towel you needed?" he asked, to figure out how much the wound had bled.

"That's the second one," Artie replied, tilting his head back as the doctor peered at the wound.

Dr. Morris *tsked*, picking up a fresh towel and jar of alcohol. "This will be easier for both of us if you lie down," he said.

Artie eyed the alcohol, dreading what the doctor was about to do. He shifted to lie flat, and forced himself to keep his eyes open, not wanting to appear cowardly.

Morris placed the towel under the wound before pouring the alcohol onto it.

Artie gasped and squeezed his eyes shut as the sting from the alcohol felt like it was burning away his skin.

Morris poured more alcohol over the wound and Artie clenched his hands into fists, resisting—with difficulty—the urge to jump off the table.

Morris wiped the alcohol and blood off Artie's skin around the wound, before peering at it again. "Would you like a sedative before I do the stitching?" he asked. "Human skin is very sensitive in that area, and I think that I'll probably have to put in ten stitches."

Why didn't you ask me that before you poured the acid on me? Artie thought. "That's all right, I'll be fine," he said.

That's what they all say, thought the doctor. He walked over to his counter again, before coming back with another towel.

Artie was startled when the towel was dropped onto his face, and he inhaled a sickly-sweet odor that he instantly recognized as chloroform.

Dr. Morris removed the towel quickly. "Sorry, Artemus. I gave you just enough to keep you calm and quiet…I can't have you flinching when I have a needle so close to your throat."

Artie fully understood, as he lay there with his brain spinning, feeling drowsy. "S'okay," he slurred.

The doctor smiled as he threaded the needle.

By the time that Artie felt the first pinch, his eyes were closed as he drifted in a semi-conscious state. He felt everything that the doctor did, but it was dulled by the chloroform, and time passed quickly. Suddenly, he heard a noise, and realized that he hadn't felt anymore pinches for the last minute or two. Opening his eyes, he saw the doctor reach towards him with a bandage, which he taped under Artie's jaw and a little up the right side of his face, to secure it.

"How do you feel, Artemus?"

Artie blinked, trying to focus. "Sleepy."

"It'll wear off. Lie there as long as you need to."

But Artie started to sit up, so the doctor helped him. "Actually…I have to go. I'm meeting a friend today and have lost time from having to stop here."

"I wouldn't advise you walking around yet," said Morris. "The chloroform could make you dizzy, especially considering that you've lost blood."

Artie laughed. "I've been hurt a lot worse than this before. I'll be fine." He slid off the table and had to hold onto it for a minute as the doctor's words proved true, before they headed out of the room.

"Thank you very much, Dr. Morris," Artie said, as he took out his wallet and handed him a bill that was probably twice the amount that he needed to pay.

The doctor's eyes widened as he took it. "This is too much."

"You deserve it," Artie said, putting on his hat. "Good day."

"Good day to you!"

Artie smiled as he left. The children were no longer outside and Artie slowly walked back to his horse, feeling a little lightheaded. What happened next was something that Artie would never have expected.

As he passed a bank, the door flew open and four or five men ran out the door, plowing into Artie and nearly knocking him down. He reached out to grab something in order to keep his already-shaky balance, and found himself looking right into the face of a bank robber…a man who easily outweighed him by fifty pounds.

The next thing that Artie saw were stars, as the thief panicked and swung his fist at him, knocking him to the ground.

One of the other thieves, probably the leader, turned at the sound. "What are you doing?!"

"He saw my face!" Artie's assailant exclaimed.

"Forget him! Let's go!"

With that, they all took off.

Some of the townspeople heard the commotion, and, seeing someone lying on the ground, rushed over.

"What's going on here?!" someone shouted.

"Sheriff!" the bank owner exclaimed, rushing out the door. "The bank's been robbed!"

"Who's that?" the sheriff asked, pointing at Artie. "One of the thieves?"

"He must be," said one of the men. "He's a stranger."

"Well, who hit him?" asked the sheriff.

"I did!" said a man who sounded suspiciously drunk. "They came outta the bank just as I passed it, *hic* an' I slugged 'im!"

"All right," said the sheriff. "Let's take him in."

Two of the men reached down, picked Artie up, and followed the sheriff to the jail…

TBC

LOL, yes, I really just did that to our sweet Artie. PLEASE review and tell me how much you already love this story. LOL! ;-)