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The Night of Secret Desires
by Ursula Angstrom
It took five men to haul Jim West off the train. When they shoved him into Grant's office, he wasn't wearing a shirt beneath his bolero jacket. President Grant was so distracted by his own concerns he didn't even notice that West was not properly attired. Colonel Shear was so distracted by the sight of Jim's hairy muscular chest and torso he couldn't notice anything else.
Cheating on his wife with handsome young men was Colonel Shear's favorite vice. Colonel Shear liked to suck cock. The only thing President Grant liked to suck on was cigars and bourbon straight from the bottle.
Jim West was the sexiest man Colonel Shear had ever seen! Every time Shear surreptitiously ogled Jim, he made the same vow: Come Hell or high water I'm going to suck your balls dry. Then I'm going to ram my cock up that sweet ass and give you a pounding you'll never forget.
From the moment Colonel Shear first saw Jim West astride a horse at West Point he'd been infatuated by the cadet's godlike beauty. That infatuation never waned. Over the years it intensified into a relentless obsession. The Colonel often fantasized about the daring secret agent when he masturbated.
One day I am going to cum all over that omnipotent face, Colonel Shear vowed. Jim West had a reputation for being quite the lady's man, but Colonel Shear was not convinced. West never took the bait when Shear tried to seduce him, but the subtle nuances of Jim's rapport with Artemus Gordon led him--and others--to believe that West was far from innocent when it came to desiring men.
West and Gordon were very protective of one another. When they walked side-by-side they walked mere inches apart. When they stood side-by-side, their biceps were always touching. When they dined together West's head was usually tilted to one side as he listened attentively to everything his partner said.
They couldn't keep their eyes off each other; even when they were on opposite sides of the same room. Colonel Shear had no trouble imagining that it was impossible for them to keep their hands off each other when they were alone together. Gordon's sultry features became very provocative when he smiled at Jim. West could don the face of a sphinx in the blink of an eye. Aloof and unattainable to everyone else, Jim always seemed receptive and subliminally attuned to Artemus Gordon. Their souls were connected by heartstrings.
Wherever they went, no matter what they were doing, West and Gordon watched each other's backs; even when they were on guard duty ostensibly protecting the President and the First Lady…
The British Embassy in Washington was hosting a party for dignitaries both foreign and domestic. James West and Artemus Gordon were dressed in their finest tuxedos, looking handsome and debonair as they mingled with the crowd. They looked like important guests, not inconspicuous bodyguards. West was shadowing Grant and Gordon was shadowing the First Lady. As part of the Grant's entourage, West and Gordon stayed gallantly close, but they never acted subservient. As far as the other guests could tell, Jim and Artie were modern-day courtiers favored by the President and his gracious wife.
Chivalrous to a fault, Artemus Gordon effortlessly acted as the Grant's official translator, impressing everyone with his talents as a linguist because he could speak so many different languages fluently.
Colonel Shear broiled in the juices of his own jealousy as he watched Jim West smile with undisguised pride when the French ambassador recognized Gordon and exclaimed, "So this is what happened to you, Monsieur Gordon! I have wondered about you often. You disappeared from the European stage so suddenly. How commendable of you to return to the States to do your patriotic duty. I am glad to see that you survived the late unpleasantness. Very glad indeed! The theater's loss is Washington's gain I am sure, but I do hope you will return to Paris soon. It is a rare treat indeed to see an American act on the French stage speaking our language as if he'd been born is Versailles. As Ambassador Thistlewaite would say, he was 'bloody marvelous'," Ambassador Marcoux said, teasing his British counterpart with a deplorable imitation of a Manchester accent.
Jim West and President Grant chuckled as Artemus Gordon blushed and acknowledged the sincere compliment with a humble bow of his head.
I hate you! Colonel Shear thought as he watched Gordon shuttle President and Mrs. Grant through the eclectic crowd. Gordon helped the President weave a tapestry of diplomacy that was rich with laudatory nuances. Gordon made it all seem so effortless, and that annoyed Colonel Shear even more.
Keep it up you preening parrot, Colonel Shear thought with vicious glee. If this little scheme of mine works, Grant will keep you in Washington as his personal translator, and he'll send Jim back to the field with a new partner. I'm going to break you two up one way or another. But, oh, how I would love to achieve that by making your talent your undoing, Artemus.
Admiring Jim West from a distance again, Colonel Shear plucked another glass of champagne off a tray as one of the waiters passed him. If I can't have you, I'm going to make damn sure Gordon doesn't get to have you either, Colonel Shear vowed as he silently cursed the swallowtail tuxedo that covered Jim's spectacular ass.
Memories were goading Colonel Shear like invisible demons. Memories of how desirable West looked in that open jacket were poking his pride with sharp sticks. Jim was fully clothed now, but Colonel Shear kept remembering West as he looked that day when he told Jim he could keep the train and gave him his Special Agent status. Shear could conjure up the gorgeous image of Jim West shirtless in that open jacket at will. He'd sketched West by memory as soon as the young captain left his office to embark on his special assignment. Shear couldn't wait to find out how accurately he'd drawn that feathery pattern of chest hair from the tantalizing glimpses he'd stolen of Jim's muscular chest and torso.
The more he fantasized about Jim, the more champagne he drank. As the night wore on, and the combination of booze and Jim West made his blood boil, Colonel Shear found himself getting angrier and angrier. Trapped by his illicit desires for Jim West, Shear felt like a caged animal.
By the time the President and Mrs. Grant were escorted to the suite upstairs, so they could have a private audience with the Duke of Devonshire, Colonel Shear was recklessly drunk. Booze gives lots of men false courage that doesn't last long, and Colonel Shear was definitely not immune to the temptations of bogus bravado.
Fortifying himself with another swig of champagne, Shear swaggered over to where Artemus Gordon was waiting by the bar for the drink he had just ordered. Gordon's brown eyes were admiring Jim from a distance too. Artemus looked amused as he watched his partner effortless charm Princess Helga and her entourage.
Helga intercepted Jim near the center of the room like a barge sailing into the path of a schooner. Princess Helga of Austria knew damn well who Jim was, but she pretended that she didn't when she said, "Mr. West, isn't it?"
"Yes."
One word made the Princess shiver with goosebumps. Jim West's sexy voice turned her on like a gas flame. Princess Helga's blue eyes flared with such a blaze of avaricious lust, everyone noticed how covetously she was devouring the handsome American with a seductive smile on her face.
"Uh, oh! Brunhelga just set her sights on Jim," Shear murmured; feigning camaraderie that he did not feel so he could goad Artemus Gordon.
Shear was in a surly mood. He was dangerous to himself when he got in that mood…
Princess Helga smiled her most charming smile. The one that made her look like a bulldog. Her Lady-In-Waiting, Ingrid Schuyler, deferentially interjected with a curtsy and said, "Permit me to introduce you to Princess Helga Volgemeister, seventh heir to the throne of Austria."
West bowed, kissed Helga's chubby hand, and bowed again. His impeccable posture, grooming, and poise impressed the smitten princess. He greeted her in the militaristic Austrian fashion required by protocol, but he did it with such chivalrous grace, Helga HAD to compliment him on his American finesse.
"It is true then," Helga said, pausing deliberately because she hoped to intrigue Jim West.
"What's true?"
Helga wriggled like the goosebumps were tickling her.
"This rumor I have heard that Americans are 'rugged individualists'." Using this comment as an excuse to caress the chiseled beauty of Jim's face, Princess Helga laughed and said, "You did that with such grace, I couldn't possibly slap you for not clicking your boot heels in the Austrian fashion. You click your boot heels for no one, do you Mr. West?"
If her presumptuous caress annoyed West, Jim didn't show it. His expression remained so inscrutably benign he seemed emotionless. His composure was Zen-like in it's tranquility.
Princess Helga was so unnerved by Jim's placidity she was forced to answer her own question. Helga was so flustered she asked the same question again with different words. "You don't have an obsequious bone in your body, do you?"
"Not that I'm aware of," Jim replied, flashing that dimple that made Helga gush over him.
"How audacious and adorable you are!"
Colonel Shear bristled with contempt when he saw Artemus Gordon's husky body quaking with repressed laughter. Anyone who'd ever heard them banter would instinctively know that Artemus was never going to let Jim live those compliments down. Gordon was an incorrigible mimic. Shear could tell by the radiant expression on Gordon's face how much Artemus was looking forward to mimicking Princess Helga's voice so he could tease West as soon at they were alone together.
Colonel Shear experienced an irresistible urge to oink at Princess Helga, but he restrained himself because he knew that uttering a derisive noise to mock her would have been committing political suicide.
Sullenly nursing another glass of champagne, Shear watched the pudgy princess make a fool out of herself as she ludicrously fawned over the sleek James West.
If Artemus Gordon thought the sight was absurd he certainly didn't show it, Colonel Shear grudgingly admitted. The Frog ambassador was right, Colonel Shear thought, you ARE a damn good actor. Shear couldn't stop himself from snickering at Princess Helga as she tried to beguile Jim West with coquetry.
When Artemus noticed the expression on Shear's face as he watched Jim and Helga, Gordon glared at him thunderously. Then he ostracized Shear by moving away from him with imperious contempt.
Shear realized his behavior was rude and inappropriate, but he didn't care. It was vindictively comforting to know that Princess Helga was as man-hungry as he was, but she wasn't likely to get a taste of Jim West's cock tonight either.
West's gracious smile never faltered. Jim listened to the frivolous fraulein with the courtesy of an officer and a gentleman. Dazzled by Jim's beauty, Princess Helga prattled on, desperately hoping to entice West into her bed by flaunting her royalty and her jewelry; only to find out that money couldn't buy her Jim West's love. Not even for a one-night stand.
"The Heartbreak Kid strikes again," Colonel Shear said, hoisting his glass to toast Jim as Artemus Gordon glowered at him again.
Shear kept following Gordon like a mangy stray dog, because he knew it annoyed Gordon to see him ogling West from a distance so flagrantly. Colonel Shear was devouring Jim's sleek profile with hungry eyes at the moment. Admiring every inch of that trim body in those meticulously tailored clothes. West looked so elegant and erotic at the same time, Shear thought he was going to blow a ball right there in the reception room of the British Embassy.
If you only knew what I planned to do, Colonel Shear gloated. You'd kill me with your bare hands right here and save yourself a world of grief, Artemus…
Drunk as a skunk, Colonel Shear decided to tempt fate and see if he survived his own audacity. Smirking at Gordon as he took a fortifying sip of champagne, Colonel Shear said, "Have you given West a tumble yet?"
"I beg your pardon?"
Artemus Gordon bristled like an indignant porcupine. Colonel Shear ignored those blazing brown eyes and nodded at Jim West with a salacious leer on his face.
"You heard me," Colonel Shear taunted as he nodded at Jim's ass. "Have you gotten a piece of that yet?"
Artemus wanted to punch the smirk right off Colonel Shear's face! But they were in the ballroom of the British Embassy, not a two-bit saloon.
"Yes, I heard you," Artemus growled; his voice low but fierce. Gordon didn't have to grab Shear by the shirt and shake him. All he had to do was move in close and snarl, "If you ask me that question again, you'll get your answer from the muzzle of my dueling pistol."
Colonel Shear blanched and recoiled like a lion had just roared at him.
Artemus yanked the glass out of the Colonel's hand and slammed it down on a nearby table.
"You're drunk," Gordon said, like he was uttering a curse. "Sober up before you get yourself killed."
No one but Shear heard the angry rebuke. No one but Jim West noticed that Artemus Gordon stalked out of the room like an enraged bear.
Concerned, West excused himself and followed his partner out into the beautiful landscaped garden behind the British Embassy.
"What was all THAT about?" West inquired.
"I'll tell you when we get back to the train," Artemus grumbled between clenched teeth.
"Okay…" Jim replied, rubbing Artie's back briefly with one hand as he watched his friend master his rampaging emotions.
Artie was furious about something, but now was not the time or the place to discuss it. Artie needed some air, so Jim told him to take all the time he needed. Shear had said something to ignite Artie's fiery Aries temper. Artie's eyes were feral with anger. He was spoiling for a fight and Shear was going to get pulverized if he was stupid enough to provoke Artie again tonight.
Shear thought he was sly, but the man didn't have a clever bone in his body. He was nothing but a malicious conniving weasel.
Goading Artemus Gordon was like waving a red cape in front of a bull. If Shear knew what was good for him, he'd stay far away from Artie the rest of the night.
West made a point of walking by Colonel Shear and stopping just long enough to say, "Taunt him again and Artemus will retaliate." Then he walked on as if he'd just stop by to say something innocuous like "Nice suit."
The warning penetrated Shear's inebriated brain slowly, but it left him shaking with fright. That was a threat no man could afford to take lightly. Artemus Gordon invented weapons as a hobby. He probably knew a thousand and one ways to kill a man and escape undetected. Shaken, but bitterly defiant, Shear reluctantly admitted to himself that it was time to sober up; so he wandered towards the kitchen to ask for some coffee…
Artemus was so furious he looked like he was carved in stone. Lava rock to be precise, Jim thought as he watched his partner walk back into the British Embassy through the patio doors that opened onto the veranda.
Only his talent as an actor allowed Artie to bluff his way through the rest of the evening; a performance that left him so drained, Gordon was bone weary before he even mounted his horse for the ride home to their private train.
True to his word, Artemus didn't say a word about his annoying conversation with Shear until they were safely behind the closed doors of the Wanderer.
The first thing Artie did when they went inside was yank off his white bow tie and throw it on the desk like a silk streamer. Then he yanked off his collar and hurled it onto the desk like a starched boomerang too.
Jim wasn't surprised when the shirt button beneath Artie's Adam's Apple flew across the room and ricocheted off the window with a hailstone ping.
"Incoming!" West shouted, ducking like he was dodging a cannonball not a button.
Jim thought the joke was funny, but Artie was still too pissed off to laugh heartily. His laughter was strained because he was exhausted and angry.
Soothing Artie with a tender smile, Jim gave his partner's tense shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he said, "Would you like a drink?"
"Please," Artie sighed wearily as he sat down heavily in the most comfortable chair in the parlor car.
"Whiskey or brandy?"
"Cognac would be lovely."
Jim opened up the door of the sideboard, got out the good stuff and poured his partner a generous shot of expensive French brandy.
"Did chatting with the French ambassador make you wistful for Paris?" Jim asked as he handed Artie the brandy snifter with butterflies of apprehension in his stomach.
"Only in the Spring, Jim. Paris is the color of lint all winter."
"Which means you still prefer Arizona in December."
"Of course!" Artie sighed, hoisting his glass to salute fond memories as he said, "I love Christmas cactus."
Chuckling, Jim relaxed as he reveled in the memory of Artie in the desert stringing tinsel on cactus needles last Christmas Eve. The cacti were taller than Artie. He had to get on his horse to spike the angel on top of the cactus he named Nick.
"You are one strange Pagan, my friend." Chortling, Jim took off his white tie and removed his collar too.
Artie shrugged blithely. "I like stringing popcorn and cranberries."
"You like playing with any kind of string," Jim teased. "Thread, rope, detonator fuse… I think you have a string fetish, Artie."
Jim loved it when he made Artie laugh. It was an adorable sound.
"Speaking of string… Let's make spaghetti! I'm hungry."
"Spaghetti at 2 a.m.? That's a prescription for heartburn."
"Not if I make Alfredo sauce."
"Make it with lots of cheese," Jim said, salivating already. Cheese was Jim's favorite snack food. He followed Artemus into the galley like a hungry mouse with a cheerful, anticipatory smile on his face.
A half-hour later they were eating spaghetti alfredo at the long table in the dining area. Jim wasn't very hungry, but he couldn't resist anything Artie made. He kept twirling his fork into Artie's plate of spaghetti and stealing little bites of it while they conversed.
Jim knew his partner well. The hors d'oeuvres at the reception were tasty and plentiful. Waiters were circulating constantly with a vast assortment of edibles. When dinner was served it was lavish. The roast beef had been cooked to perfection, but Artie only consumed a few bites and ignored the rest. He ate enough to be polite, deliberately losing himself in conversation so his lack of appetite would not be misconstrued as a personal affront to their gracious hosts.
When Artie was too distressed to eat it meant one of two things: either he was very ill or he was very angry.
"That must have been some insult. You're still fuming."
"It was, and I am," Artie replied brusquely.
"What did he say?"
"He asked me if I'd ever fucked you."
West wasn't surprised. Gordon was still furious.
"Impertinent son of a bitch!" Artie snarled when Jim said nothing.
"Audacious fool is more like it," Jim chuckled. "You punch like a battering ram, Artie."
"I should have clobbered him." Gordon agreed.
"Better than giving yourself an aneurysm," West scolded.
Concerned, Jim stood up and squeezed both of Artie's shoulders this time; because they were hunched like a bull about to charge.
"Calm down. You look like you're going to explode."
"And you look like you could care less!" Artie erupted, plucking his napkin off his lap and tossing it onto the table in an outburst of indignation. Artie was envious.
Jim shrugged, not losing one iota of his nonchalant composure. "Shear's been after me for years. He's usually more direct about it. I just ignore him. He backs off."
"He better!" Artie growled. Nauseous again, Artemus picked up his unfinished plate of spaghetti alfredo and brought it back to the galley in a huff.
West chuckled. Artie sounded jealous. Jim followed Artemus into the kitchen, his heart racing expectantly as he wondered if Artemus WAS jealous.
Keeping the adorable dimples in his cheeks from flashing was almost impossible. Jim was delighted by Artie's reaction to Shear's provocative question.
"Don't get yourself court martialed defending my honor. Lots of people think we're having an affair, Artie."
"Well, we're not!" Gordon snapped as he slammed the plate into the sink.
"Why?" Jim replied. His voice was so velvety and seductive, Artemus thought he was imagining the provocative sound. Then he noticed the alluring smile on Jim's face that left nothing to the imagination.
JIM WASN'T TEASING! HE REALLY WANTED TO KNOW WHY! The question took Gordon by surprise so fast, Artie's heart forgot to beat. When Artemus finally found his voice, he looked as awed as he sounded.
"I didn't think you'd be interested."
"If it was anyone but you I wouldn't be," Jim confessed.
Jim's candid compliment delighted Artemus. Startled by the erotic revelation, Artie's big brown eyes looked as soft and warm as melting chocolate when he smiled back at the handsome young man he had secretly desired for so long.
Artemus was so stunned, Jim's words rendered him mute again. Jim watched Artie's Adam's Apple bob convulsively in his throat as Gordon struggled to regain his composure.
"I don't know what to say," Artie whispered.
"Say what you feel," Jim murmured as he reached out to massage the side of Artie's neck with his right hand while his thumb caressed his partner's chin.
"I can't," Artie gulped. "I'm overwhelmed."
Jim's warm, covetous hand had slipped into the open collar of his shirt so he could massage the smooth skin between Artie's shoulder and his left pectoral.
"Should I be flattered or worried?" Jim teased; hoping his apprehension was not as palpable to Artie as it was to him.
"Flattered," Artemus gasped happily.
Caressing Jim's face, his thumb playing with the sexy dimple in Jim's right cheek, Artemus leaned forward with a wondrous smile on his face. Smiling lips met smiling lips, mouths eagerly parting as soon as flesh pressed against flesh…
Jim yielding because Artie initiated the first kiss. Artemus yielding when Jim reciprocated with equal passion…
Every decadent dream Artemus ever had came true all at once when Jim West kissed him hungrily and pinned him against the far wall. Artie's blood was bubbling like champagne. Jim's kisses made his heart soar and reel like a hawk doing a mating dance in mid-air.
Every kiss was erotic exultation. Every time their tongues twined they created another beautiful oral ballet.
Gordon's hands swarmed Jim's beautiful body, eagerly unbuttoning the white shirt so he could push it off those sun-kissed shoulders.
Jim loved how those big bold hands swooped down his back and grabbed his ass.
Before they could blink they were tumbling upright out of the galley and down the side hall towards their bedrooms. Jim tearing off Artie's ruffled dress shirt so he could expose that smooth chest and those powerful arms. Impatient to press his lips against the silky skin that covered those broad shoulders, Jim ripped the elegant shirt in his haste.
"I'll buy you a new one," Jim mumbled apologetically.
"All I want is you," Artemus gasped
The ardent confession and the fervent kisses they were sharing made Jim hungry for sex with Artie. Jim slammed Artie against the wall again, so he could shamelessly rub his raging cock against the rampant cock he'd been craving for so long.
"Keep doing that and I'll cum in my pants," Artie gasped.
"No!" Jim pleaded; dropping to his knees after he tore his mouth away from another ravenous kiss.
He yanked Artie's belt open before Gordon could grab him by the wrists.
Artemus was lost as soon as Jim looked up at him with wild eyes and said, "I want you to cum in my mouth. Please!"
Jim licked Artie's cock through his trousers so plaintively, Artemus couldn't resist the temptation to let Jim's wrists go. He wanted to find out what those greedy hands would do next.
Jim ripped open Artie’s pants, yanked down his briefs and grabbed his partner’s cock with both hands like it was a sea serpent he intended to strangle.
"Jim!" Artie yelped; because he was far too aroused to be fondled that roughly.
"Sorry," Jim gasped, smiling at him in breath-taken wonder as he savored the hard length of throbbing flesh he held captive in his hands.
"You're HUGE," Jim marveled as he appreciatively caressed Artie's thick, virile cock.
Jim had fantasized about this moment so many times he knew exactly what he wanted to do first. Jim throttled Artie's cock with both hands and slowly licked the glistening cum out of Artie's cockslit with the avid tip of his tongue.
Jim had never done that before, but he assumed he did it well. Artie groaned the words, "Oh, Jim…" with such resonating pleasure, West licked him again even slower because he enjoyed how Artemus sagged against the wall like he was going to swoon.
Jim grinned like a satyr when Artemus curled his left hand backwards and dug his fingers into the wooden frame of the open door of the guest room. The paroxysm of ecstasy was so intense when Jim sensuously licked that gorgeous cock from base to tip, Artie's penis almost exploded in his face.
"Where did you learn how to do that?" Artie gasped, as he surrendered to the exquisite pleasure Jim was giving him with that amazing mouth.
"I know what feels good on me. So I'm doing that to you. Does this feel good?" Jim murmured, as he possessively stroked Artie's cock. Grinning wickedly, Jim gently sucked on the flaring glans that tantalized his tongue. Artie was irresistible!
Jim had never sucked a man's cock before. He felt awkward, amazed, and insatiable at the same time.
The incredible pleasure of seeing Jim's bold mouth sucking him with such intimate fervor pushed Artie to the brink of erotic madness.
Jim was so beautiful, so determined, so eager to please. Artie was trembling from head to toe, trying his damndest to make the moment last as long as possible. Jim West was not a timid man; when he wanted something he figured out a way to get it.
No one could resist Jim West when he was at his seductive best. Artemus felt like he was about to discover paradise when his innate gallantry kicked in and he desperately tried to warn Jim how close he was to implosion.
"No! Stop!" Artie begged when he heard Jim gag. Jim's hair was too short to grab in the back when his fingers were numb and tingling. Artemus felt like he was trying to reach through the portal to another dimension to touch Jim. The pleasure was that surreal… That intense… Nothing had ever been as glorious as this!
Jim sensed his excitement and that made him more excited too. Jim laughed with his mouth full and kept on savoring his erotic feast.
Jim looked so pleased, so aroused, so expectant…
The devilish glint in his eyes dazzled Artemus like the Aurora Borealis. Jim didn't know what he was doing, but he knew what was going to happen next. He was proud of the fact that he was able to improvise so well. He kept Artie's cock firmly in his grasp, sucking greedily, tugging on Gordon's captive penis like a puppy pulling on one end of a knotted sock.
Jim refused to be denied. He even growled like a frisky puppy. The delicious vibrations of sound oscillated through Artie's cock and rippled through his body in waves of delight.
The impish message was unmistakable: GIMME! So Artemus let Jim pull him over a cliff of carnality from which there was no hope of return. The freefall of orgasm was exquisite…
Jim could taste the imminent surge of orgasm in Artie's cum. The briny tang of his ejaculate intensified like the advent of a squall at sea. Jim held on tight, opened his mouth wide, and gulped the decadent deluge as fast as he could when it streamed down his throat like salty froth.
Jim had rendered Artie so incoherent with intense pleasure, the only warning Artemus could give his passionate lover was a fervent caress. Jim knew, and he reveled in the triumph of being able to give Artie so much joy the first time he ever sucked cock.
The dam in Artie's balls broke, flooding Jim's mouth with musky ambrosia he'd never tasted before. The power of Artie's release thrilled Jim because Artie roared like a horny sex beast when he came.
Pleasure thundered out of Artemus like a train racing through a tunnel during a flood. When the wheels in Artie's mind left the tracks, he felt airborne. The exhilarating freefall of his first orgasm with Jim seemed to last forever.
Holding on tight, Jim screamed with his mouth full when Artie came, because the river of cum rushing into his mouth with such explosive erotic force triggered a spontaneous orgasm that made Jim's cock bloom like a trumpet flower too.
Greedy for every nuance of this new sexual experience, Jim sucked Artemus so hard his jaw ached. His throat felt raw by the time they were done. Jim's cock felt raw too; because his penis had spent the entire orgasm trying to ram it's way through the tight confines of his pants.
The sturdy material stretched but it didn't give way. Being trapped in the restraints of his tight pants was frustrating but fun. Jim's fly was drenched with his own juices as he savored the musky elixir of Artie's cum like a naughty treat.
"Now THAT was a Fuck-Feast!" Jim gasped, when Artie slid down the wall like a bag of grain with a hole ripped in it.
The torrential release was so gratifying, Artie was smiling like he was delirious.
Laughing triumphantly, Jim helped his woozy partner sink onto the floor in slow motion, belatedly stripping off Artie's tangled pants and boots as if Gordon had just come back to the train staggering drunk.
"Now you're naked," Jim gloated, laughing raucously when Artie murmured "I was born that way" and just smiled at him dreamily.
"Lucky you," Jim purred as he distracted Artie with a kiss as he compulsively grabbed Gordon's cock in his possessive hand again.
Artie groaned into the kiss because his cock was raw from the white water rush of orgasm.
"I am lucky," Artemus murmured as he marveled at the sweaty face he was caressing with grateful hands. "I'm the luckiest man on Earth," Artemus murmured between kisses.
"Oh, James---my beautiful boy---I love you more than words can possibly say," Artemus murmured as he rolled Jim onto the floor so he could gather Jim close in a possessive hug.
Artie's appreciative words filled Jim's heart with sunlight.
"I love you too, Artie," Jim sighed contentedly, nestling into the haven he'd just found in Gordon's strong arms.
Jim and Artie "mmm'd " and "ahh'd" and cooed like a pair of lovebirds as Artemus distracted Jim with kisses and peeled him out of the remains of his tuxedo too.
"Sorry about that," Jim apologized bashfully, when Artie's hand appreciatively explored the wet spot on the front of his black trousers. Jim was embarrassed by his premature ejaculation so he felt like he had to explain, "I don't usually…"
"You were excited," Artie shushed him with a reassuring kiss. "You were amazing." Artie assured Jim. "Do I look unhappy?"
"No," Jim chuckled. "You look delighted."
"THAT's the understatement of the year."
There were just not enough words in any language he knew to express what he was feeling right now…
Jim's blue-green eyes were so bright right now they lit up the night with celestial fire.
Artemus had just unzipped his pants. Jim's cock surrendered immediately and unconditionally when Artemus captured it in his big gentle hand.
"Yes!" Jim groaned ecstatically.
Jim eagerly wriggled out of his pants and boots as he dangled from Artie's lips in a kiss that wouldn't quit.
"Please!" Jim begged, as Gordon's hand insistently pumped the sap back into his cock with that firm, loving hand.
"Make me hard. Make me cum."
Jim couldn't believe how wonderful it felt to be man-handled by Artemus Gordon.
Artie knew exactly what he was doing and he adored Jim West. Artemus kissed Jim passionately and said, "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you're going to swoon."
"Not possible," Jim smirked.
"Oh really?" Artemus drawled wickedly.
Daring Artie was always a mistake. As soon as Artie kissed him, Jim knew he was in big trouble. Artie grabbed Jim's sleek cock firmly. Then he thumbed just the head of Jim's penis in a way that made Jim squirm and moan. Jim was silently begging for mercy that he did not want to receive.
"Quit or don't stop?" Artemus gloated.
"Both!" Jim gasped.
Artemus chuckled triumphantly.
"Say please," Artemus taunted.
"Never," Jim vowed.
Artemus smiled like a satyr and gave Jim West a love lesson he would never forget.
Tongue fucking Jim's sassy mouth, Artemus whipped Jim into a froth with his mouth and his hands. In a matter of moments Jim's cock felt like it was a champagne bottle full of cum being shaken by the crazy son of an intoxicated Maenad.
When he came, Jim's cock gushed with such force, he felt like a cork popped out of the slit of his penis when he exploded. His semen felt like it was made of fizzing bubbles full of pure delight as he anointed Artie with the proof of his pleasure.
Now that they were finally in each other's arms, sex had become a sacrament. The erotic reverence they felt for each other was unsurpassed.
They'd become friends on a Civil War battlefield. They remained colleagues after they joined the Secret Service. They'd been partners since they began living together on the train. Now they had finally actualized their destiny and became lovers.
The inevitable had never been so welcome or so sublime. Over the course of the next few months they gradually became lovers who enjoyed every nuance of their oh-so-compatible bodies, hearts and minds.
The next time they saw Colonel Shear, Jim impishly nudged Artemus with his elbow and silently dared him to say something boastful to Shear. Never one to refuse a dare that would make Jim laugh, Artemus walked up to Shear and said, "The answer to your question is 'Yes' --and it was glorious!"
The non sequitur puzzled Shear for a moment, until Jim looked at Artemus with a smoldering smile on his face and said, "And it will be again as soon as we leave for Cheyenne."
THEN, Shear understood. Their gloating enraged him! Another man might have fumed, sulked, licked his wounds, and got on with his life, but Colonel Shear was not such a man.
He wanted revenge now more than ever.
President Grant DID ask Artemus Gordon if he'd be interested in remaining in Washington to be his primary translator. Artemus told the President that the offer was very flattering and he was honored that Grant was so impressed by his 'dabbling'.
"Dabbling!" Grant scoffed. "That's not what I'd call it, Artemus. You've got a gift for linguistics and diplomacy. That's not something I can pick up at the corner market."
"It's a hobby, sir; nothing more. I never intended to make a career out of being a translator. I'm too restless to be happy here for long. I'd get bored and go stir crazy cooped up in Washington. I've been a vagabond all my life. I've never stayed anywhere for more than a couple of months in my life. My gypsy life with Jim suits me just fine."
Grant took the polite refusal in stride. He could order Artemus to stay in Washington, but Gordon would just resign his commission, leave the Secret Service and go do hundreds of things well that would make him more money that he didn't need or want. And that decision would probably cost him Jim West too. West and Gordon had been friends for a long time, but they'd become inseparable since they'd become partners.
They were as radiant as polished jewels today. Jim looked like a freshly cut sapphire in his blue suit. Artemus looked as lustrous as a garnet in his burgundy suit. There was some not-so-subtle nuance in their legendary rapport today that made them grin like mischievous schoolboys.
They were anxious to be on their way and Grant admired the rapscallions too much to upset their apple cart. They were loyal friends and the best team of Secret Service agents he had in the field. Shear's suggestion was logical but not laudable. Teams that efficient were the exception not the rule. Breaking West and Gordon up as a team would have solved a few problems but it would have probably created many more.
Grant smiled, wagged his head like a weary father, and said, "Blow something up with my blessings. Dismissed."
West and Gordon left his office chuckling.
Thwarted, Shear became even more vindictive when he found out that President Grant allowed Artemus Gordon to turn down that assignment without a reprimand.
Vowing to make them pay for flaunting their love affair in his face, Colonel Shear began to hatch another plot to get revenge on James West and Artemus Gordon.
Colonel Shear had to wait a while to implement his plan so President Grant would not get suspicious. Waiting made Shear feel like he was roasting in the fires of Hell.
The memorable glimpse of Jim's muscular hairy chest and those firm abdominal muscles intensified Colonel Shear's obsession for Jim West. It galled Shear to think that Artemus Gordon was making love to Jim West every day on their private train. It galled Shear even more to think that West was pleasuring Gordon with that cock that should have been his!
It WILL be mine! Shear vowed.
So he schemed and he schemed until he finally devised an excuse to do an unscheduled audit and field inspection of West and his luxurious train.
Colonel Shear had every detail of his vicious plan figured out down to the minute. He arrived in Phoenix late in the morning, rented a room, and tried to take a nap after his long tiring journey. Shear wasn't feeling well; but that was nothing unusual. Traveling by train always made him irritable. He was impatient to arrive at his destination. The long journey from Maryland to Arizona nearly drove Shear out of his mind. The incessant turning of the wheels, the swaying of the cars, and the murmuring clamor that never abated got on Shear's nerves. Shear felt like his body and mind had been invaded by a colony of ants. The swarming sensations inside him would not stop no matter how many sedatives he took to calm his nerves during the journey.
Eager to get his revenge, and make his vendetta against West and Gordon a reality, Shear endured the torment by keeping his mind focused on his violent fantasies. The more often he fucked Jim West in his mind, the more Colonel Shear was determined to fuck Jim for real.
Soon he would be alone with the handsome young Captain, and Colonel Shear did not plan to take 'No' for an answer.
It took a long time for Shear to relax and fall asleep. He slept fitfully and woke up feeling anxious. His plan was to ride to where the Wanderer was parked early tomorrow morning and drop in unannounced for his surprise inspection and field audit. West and Gordon did not know that he was coming, and the surprise would not be a pleasant one; Shear would make sure of that!
The sun had already set and the smell of food made Shear nauseous. What he needed was a drink. Shear went to a saloon and sipped from a bottle of imported Scotch to calm his jangled nerves. Then he wandered around Phoenix restlessly for several hours, but Shear could not calm down.
Shear was agitated in a way that always made him reckless. Shear recognized this, but the insatiable need to see Jim West--even from a distance--was driving him mad with unrequited longing.
West didn't want him, but Jim West was all Colonel Shear could think about. His obsessive thoughts about West were bad enough when he was in Washington knowing that Jim was half a continent away. Now that West was only a few miles away, Shear found it impossible to withstand the tantalizing temptation to spy on the sexy secret agent. The voyeur inside him refused to be denied.
Mounting his rented horse with alacrity, Shear rode out of town before he could start second-guessing the wisdom of his impulses. The only pulse that ruled him now was the throbbing ache in his penis. The faster he rode towards town, the more he wanted to thrust his cock into West's luscious ass.
I'm going to fuck you until you bleed! Shear vowed. By the time I get done with you my cock is going to be as red as a vampire's fangs.
There was plenty of rope and sedatives in Shear's saddlebags. He was feeling daring and improvisational, so Plan B, seemed more likely to take place than Plan A at the moment.
Fearless because he was drunk, Shear rode towards West's train dazzled by violent fantasies of tying Artemus Gordon to a chair and making him watch as he raped Jim West.
THAT made Shear's cock harder than a railroad spike.
"I'll do it! I'll do it! I'll do it!" Shear cackled maniacally as his horse galloped down the dirt road at a speed that was never fast enough to avoid the goading prick of Shear's spurs.
Shear raced the horse towards their destination, slowing only when they reached the outskirts of the patch of woods that surrounded the spur line like a misshapen horseshoe. The Moon was shining bright, so Shear had no trouble dismounting and leading the horse quietly through the forest by its reins.
He tethered the tired horse to a tree near the creek that trickled through the forest. Then he snuck up on West's train with the stealth of an Army scout.
Some things you never forget how to do, even if it has been quite a while since you've done them, Shear mused with pride. There were lights glowing cozily inside the train, but the stable car was empty. That meant West and Gordon were out this evening. But where had they gone? Their assignment in Phoenix was finished. They were awaiting orders to proceed to their next destination.
Shear looked at the face of his pocket watch in the moonlight. It was only 8 p.m. They could be anywhere. They could be reveling anywhere in Phoenix or in the verdant countryside nearby. How they spent all the free time they had together on board the luxurious train was not something Shear wanted to think about right now. Those thoughts made him jealous. Extremely jealous.
But those thoughts were unavoidable. The longer Shear hid in the woods wondering when they would be returning the more he wondered what they were doing. The longer they were gone, the more convinced Shear became that they'd gone camping. Visions of West and Gordon making love under the stars tormented Shear's overactive imagination. By the time he heard the sound of approaching hoof beats, Shear was seething with jealous fury.
Envy turned to hatred when Colonel Shear saw how chummy West and Gordon were when they returned to their home unaware that he was spying on them from the woods nearby.
Jim was dressed in a dove gray suit that was tailored in the toreador style he favored. West looked spectacular in the moonlight. It made Shear's hands sweat just thinking about how he was going to touch Jim everywhere…
It made Shear gloat when he thought, And there is nothing you can do about that, Gordon!
Watching them laugh and talk filled Colonel Shear with bitterness. Gordon was telling West some long-winded story, changing his voice to various accents, as the joke unfolded.
Artemus Gordon was a very charming man but he wasn't a pretty boy like West. If you were a pretty boy like Jim, I could understand the attraction, Shear thought. But you've got the face of a peasant. What does West find so damn appealing?
Jim West was hanging on Gordon's every word as the actor entertained him with a long involved story that West found very amusing. Gesticulating comically as he changed his voice from one accent to another, Artemus made Jim laugh with an ease Colonel Shear despised.
West was such a serious, ambitious man; Colonel Shear didn't think Jim even had a sense of humor until he saw the way Gordon effortlessly made West laugh and smile.
Jim's smile was as unforgettable as that glimpse of his bare torso had been. West was still chuckling after Gordon told him the punch line. Jim laughed riotously and kept on chuckling as they led the horses into the stable car.
They're drunk, Shear concluded jealously. But he couldn't console himself with that deluded lie for long, because neither of them staggered or swayed before or after they dismounted. They led their horses up the ramp into the stable car with their usual self-confident strides.
Shear wanted to sink his teeth deep into Jim's butt as he watched his glutes tense as he strutted up that ramp. That preening strut was for Gordon's appreciation. Jim laughed when his horse started to prance up the ramp, so he deliberately walked provocatively as he said, "Quit looking at my horse's butt. You're supposed to be looking at MY butt, Artie."
Shear got so angry when he saw Gordon reach out and caress Jim's luscious rump, he thought he was going to shatter every tooth in his head when his jaws clenched in sudden fury.
Gordon's deep, wanton laugh was as sexy as Jim's when he said, "My eyes have been glued to my prize all night, James, my boy. Guess what I'm going to give you when I unwrap you like a present?"
"Another spanking?" Jim replied hopefully after they shared a long, passionate kiss.
Artemus was rubbing Jim's ass with come hither sensuality while West kissed him like a man who was madly in love.
Artemus chuckled impishly and said, "I've created a monster. I should never have taken you to The Golden Sandal, Jim. Now you're going to want to wrestle Amazon women and get your ass slapped with golden sandals every time we come to Phoenix."
"What are you complaining about?" Jim sassed, as he ran his fingers through Gordon's hair and teased him with flirtatious kisses. "Did I or did I NOT, win you five golden belts that entitle you to take any one of those women to bed for free the next time we visit that Orthian temple of sacramental promiscuity?"
"You most certainly did," Gordon gloated.
"I didn't have to give you those belts, Artie. I won them. I could have kept them for myself."
"Only if I let you. You're a heathen, Jim. You haven't been consecrated yet. Until you are initiated by an Orthian priestess, the only thing you can be in their rituals is my sex slave."
"Suits me," West replied blithely. "I had fun tonight, Artie."
"I knew you would," Artemus purred.
"How did you meet those Amazons, Artie?"
"I can't tell you," Gordon murmured between kisses. Smiling like a scamp, Artemus said, "I've been sworn to secrecy."
"I won't tell anybody, Artie."
"I know you won't," Artemus chortled. "If you did, they'd have to kill me."
"Really?"
Jim couldn't tell if Artie was joking or not. When he tensed it was with genuine concern. The fierce, protective expression on Jim's face told Shear all he needed to know about the depth of West's love for Artemus Gordon. No one had ever looked at Shear with that kind of devotion; not even his wife.
West looked at Gordon with the kind of I'd Die For You passion that everyone dreamed of finding some day. Gordon looked at West with the same kind of devotion on his face. The searing kiss they shared this time gradually mellowed into a dreamy cuddlesome hug that left them looking bewitched by each other.
Their deep, contented sighs taunted Shear with all that they shared. The longer he watched them, the more bitter Shear became, because he knew that he would never find that kind of love with Jim or anyone else.
They'd just spent hours--or perhaps DAYS--playing sex games with each other and a gaggle of beautiful promiscuous women. Jim West was the perfect lover of Shear's dreams. And he belonged to Artemus Gordon!
Jealous emotions curdled inside of Colonel Shear as he watched Artemus Gordon tenderly caress Jim's face. Those emotions soured and became venomous as Shear watched Gordon lower his head and kiss West passionately again. Colonel Shear thought his head was going to explode when he saw West rake his fingers through Gordon's wavy black curls and return the kiss with equal intensity.
West responded to Gordon's kiss with all the enthusiasm he had never shown to the colonel's overtures. West didn't give a tinker's damn that he found him desirable, but he was all over Artemus Gordon.
In a fit of jealous rage, Colonel Shear drew his sidearm and shot Artemus Gordon in the back as he kissed Jim West.
The impact of the bullet shoved Artemus forward a second before they heard the shot echo in the darkness. West staggered under Gordon's weight when Artemus stumbled; but Jim was so strong and so fast he shoved them out of harm's way with his martial arts prowess.
Jim grabbed his gun out of his holster and fired back automatically.
Colonel Shear ran, because he knew they would find him if he stayed where he was hiding. He was too close to the train for comfort. West's third bullet felled him as he ran towards his horse in the moon-dappled forest.
They found him groveling towards his horse as he bled to death from internal injuries. The identity of the skulking assailant surprised Jim and Artie.
"Colonel Shear?"
Shear glared at them with such animosity, Jim and Artie would have been incinerated if Shear had been a god or a demon.
"Why aren't you dead?" Shear growled as he glowered at Artemus Gordon.
"Bullet proof vest," Artie whispered, too shocked to speak louder than a whisper as he frowned at the maniacally angry man dying on the ground at their feet.
"But that only protects the chest and torso," Shear snarled.
"Which is like closing the barn door after the horse got out," Artemus grumbled. "I modified ours."
"That's against regulations," Shear protested.
"That's never stopped me before," Artemus replied as he dropped to his knees to help Shear because he had medical training.
Colonel Shear slapped Gordon's hands away and snarled, "Get your hands off me, you cocksucker!"
Shear's aggressive contempt made no sense. Jim kept his finger on the trigger of his gun just in case the dying man tried to hurt Artie again.
Bristling from the insult, Artie sat back on his heels, astonished by the man's hypocrisy and vindictiveness.
"I HATE YOU!" Shear snarled as he rolled towards Artie with a knife he yanked out of his pocket with a bloody hand.
Artie raised his arms to protect himself from the attack, but Jim kicked the knife out of Shear's hand so savagely the colonel howled in agony as the bones in his hand and arm shattered.
West was growling like a hound from Hell when he straddled Shear's chest and shoved the barrel of his gun under the man's chin.
"Lunge at him again and I'll put a bullet in your head," Jim snarled.
"Go ahead!" Shear dared West defiantly.
Jim West's fine ass was inches away from his cock. Even though he was dying, and his cock was as limp as a wet noodle, Shear had the audacity to grab Jim's hips and try to pull the agile man down onto his groin.
Jim recoiled in disgust. Artemus Gordon backhanded Shear with a resounding blow that rocked the colonel like a thunderclap.
Colonel Shear didn't like being slapped down, so he tried to bite Artemus when Gordon compassionately took advantage of his stunned condition to try and help him again.
Jim kicked Shear in the face and caught his jaw with the toe of his left boot. Shear howled in pain before he spat out a mouthful of blood with a few teeth in it.
Jim pointed his gun at the raging madman and said, "Stop acting like a fool! He can help you!"
"I don't want his help! I want you!” Shear wailed, right before something ruptured inside of him.
It was his liver. Colonel Shear drowned in his own bile--literally. That's why doctors named that organ the liver; you can't live without it once it is destroyed.
Death claimed Colonel Shear quickly but not painlessly. The man died in agony. Thwarted, vengeful, and howling in pain--all of his violent plans unfulfilled.
The emotions on Jim's face as he stared at Shear's dead body worried Artemus.
"This was self-defense, Jim. He fired at us first."
"I know," West said, his voice as gruff as the scowl on his face.
It didn't make any sense until the sheriff came and they hauled the body to the undertakers to be examined by the town's doctor. As the mortician and the doctor were undressing Shear's corpse they found a small journal tucked in a pocket of the colonel's riding jacket.
His most recent obsessed thoughts and fantasies about Jim West were recorded in lurid detail on the private pages of his diary. In his own violent, vitriolic words, Colonel Shear documented his last journey on a path of self-destruction.
Colonel Shear had syphilis; an incurable disease he'd contracted from a whore named Sally. He was dying before Jim's bullet ended his life.
There were several lists in Colonel Shear's diary of depravity. Jim West's name appeared on the list entitled: THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE. Number five read: Fuck Jim West.
Underneath that crude wish, Colonel Shear wrote about his frustrations and his vendetta.
West knows that I want him, but he acts oblivious. He acknowledges my existence and my orders, but he ignores my desire.
Blatant won't work with a man like West. But subtle isn't working either! I want to touch him so badly I feel like I am roasting in the fires of Hell. His beauty sears me like a flame every time I look at him.
Every time he ignores my obvious interest, I feel like a burn victim. I feel scarred because he finds me repulsive for some reason.
Why?
I'm not an unattractive man. What's so hideous about me?
When I blockaded West near that map, he rebuffed me by looking sideways like he had heard someone call his name. West pretended to be so lost in his own thoughts he couldn't deign to acknowledge me.
I regret my cowardice more with each passing day. Jim was so close! I could smell how deliciously his sweat mingled with the expensive cologne he wears. That short jacket he was wearing gaped open every time he moved. Every glimpse of that hairy statuesque body drove me to the brink of madness! He is more beautiful than I imagined.
Even through his clothes you can tell that West is all muscle. There is not an ounce of fat anywhere on that man's body. And I was too afraid to reach out and touch him because I didn't want to be beaten to a bloody pulp.
I've seen what Jim fists did to opponents in the West Point boxing ring. The last thing I wanted to do was face those fists of fury unmuffled by boxing gloves.
Jim West is not an approachable man. He exudes a menacing aura that is palpable. You know the man is trouble, but you find yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His beauty is so compelling you don't care if you'll get burned.
Every night I am tormented by dreams that mock me. In my dreams I find the courage I can never find when I am awake. In my dreams I reach out and touch that sun-bronzed chest. In my dreams I get to splay my hands over Jim's hairy chest and chew on those tiny nipples until he begs me to fuck him. In my dreams I get to lick that hairy path to his navel and his groin and suck that insatiable cock.
West is shrewd. He'd never be openly disdainful to a superior officer. He knows I covet him but he ignores my overtures with such composure and aplomb I'd like to strangle him with my bare hands!
His indifference is maddening because he is always so aloof and self-confident.
I want to touch him but I am afraid to touch him. West can be a violent man if he's provoked. He is a fearsome opponent in combat situations because nothing seems to terrify him.
That's why I am taking every precaution. My time on this Earth is growing short. I WILL fuck Jim West before I die, whether Jim wants to be fucked or not. That is his fate. I won't allow Destiny to cheat me of the pleasure of raping James T. West.
I gave Franklin the codes so he can send the telegraph that will dispatch Gordon into the field on a scientific consultation first. This will leave West and I alone aboard the train while I conduct my surprise inspection and field audit.
Once it's just the two of us, I will drug Jim's food or his wine with sedatives. As soon as he's unconscious I shall take what he won't give to me voluntarily. Then I'll strangle Jim West in his own bed.
I'll enjoy watching Artemus Gordon grieve at Jim's funeral. I'll be gloating about my sexual victory when I am on my deathbed. Meanwhile, Artemus Gordon will stumble through the rest of his life like a zombie numb with regrets.
Franklin will come and slap me around so I will have some convincing bruises on my face. Then he'll tie me to a chair and I'll try to escape so I will have rope cuts and burns on my wrists and ankles. This way, when the train's crew finds me, I'll look like I put up a fight to defend West and failed. My rescuers will never know that I was the one who raped and killed Jim West. They'll think burglars knocked Jim unconscious, tied him to his bed, and savagely molested that gorgeous body until they choked the life out of it before they vanished.
If anyone asks me why I wasn't molested too, I'll say, "Rapists prey on beauty, and I'm not beautiful." The irony of that lie will be poetic justice. I may not be beautiful, but I'm not ugly either. I'm going to make Jim West pay dearly for thinking I am too ugly to be desirable.
I may not be his type, but Jim West is MY type. If he won't give me that sweet ass willingly, I'll take it by force. He won't enjoy a minute of it, but that will make my revenge even sweeter.
I'll make sure Franklin roughs me up good so Gordon won't get suspicious. It will amuse me to put on a performance that will fool an actor of Gordon's caliber. If I fail, and Gordon's figures it out despite my precautions, he'll kill me without mercy and put me out of my misery. Then my ghost will watch Artemus Gordon rot in jail for my murder and my spirit can gloat about that too.
Sheriff Belmont's first comment after he read Colonel Shear's journal was, "If I killed every woman that ignored or rejected me over the years, the blood bath would look like a massacre at a family reunion picnic! You're damn lucky he lost his nerve again, Mr. West."
Sheriff Belmont scowled at Colonel Shear's corpse and grumbled, "Back shooting coward…"
Sheriff Belmont was very impressed with how the bullet from Shear's gun was still lodged in Gordon's bulletproof vest when he arrived at the scene of the shooting. First thing he did when they arrived at the mortuary was confiscate the vest and ask Doctor Jackson to fish the bullet out of there with his surgical tools.
Marveling at Gordon's innovations again when he picked the vest up off the desk again, Sheriff Belmont said, "That bullet would have went straight through your heart. The improvements you made to this body armor saved your life, Mr. Gordon."
"It's bulky, but it works."
"Better to come home with your shield than on it," Dr. Jackson drawled as he sewed up Shear's corpse after the autopsy was completed.
Nodding to the bulletproof vest with approval, Doctor Jackson said, "That's a damn fine piece of craftsmanship, Gordon. Market it."
"I'll be your first customer," Sheriff Belmont promised. "I want one of these for me and for each of my deputies."
"You'll have them within a week, Sheriff."
"That's fine!" Sheriff Belmont said, sticking out his hand so he could shake on the deal.
"Send the mayor the bill. I'll see that he gets paid," Dr. Jackson told Jim as he washed his hands in the mortician's sink.
"Artie will just send it back here to the ministers of your local churches and tell them to put in the Poor Box," Jim predicted.
Dr. Jackson smiled and looked at Artie with even more respect. "That's the beauty of the Salt of the Earth types, Mr. West. They'll give you the shirt off their backs and their shoes too."
"And they'll laugh in the streets when the flames of Hell tickle their feet," Jim said.
"What?" Artie chuckled as he finished taking Sheriff Belmont's measurements with a tape measure he'd plucked off the mortician's counter.
"Nothing," West smiled as he watched Artie play tailor. "Just composing another line to Tinker, Tailor, Solider, Spy," West quipped.
Gordon blushed as his scoffing snort turned into a wry chuckle. Their bantering lightened the grim atmosphere in the grisly room considerably until Sheriff Belmont frowned and nodded at Shear's corpse again.
"Syphilis really makes people loco, Doc?"
"Syphilis is an insidious disease. It literally drives people crazy, Xavier. Syphilis can turn rational men into rabid dogs."
There was great compassion on Dr. Jackson’s face. His intense blue eyes bored into Jim West when he said, "Dying from a bullet wound was merciful and quick compared to dying of syphilis. You may not think so right now, but you did Colonel Shear a favor when you accidentally killed him, Captain West."
"Colonel Shear did himself that favor, Doctor. He knew he was committing suicide when he fired on us. Jim's a crack shot. He's got marksmanship trophies from West Point to prove it. Colonel Shear was familiar with Jim's record." Artie's stern voice was defensive with outraged indignation.
"Tragic," the mortician clucked mournfully. The dour man stayed far away from Shear’s corpse because he was afraid the venereal disease the colonel was contagious. He wasn’t going to be touching that body even with thick chemist’s gloves like Dr. Jackson was wearing during the autopsy.
Gesturing at Shear's body again, Sheriff Belmont said, "Don't you blame yourself for this, Mr. West. It sounds to me like the back-shooting snake wanted to commit suicide, but he was too scared to take his own life. Some vicious part of him figured out that ambushing you would get him killed and he hoped you'd eat yourself up with grief and remorse. He ain’t worth no more than pity. Don’t feel guilty about this. He’s the guilty one, not you. You shot him to protect Mr. Gordon and yourself. That’s no crime."
Sheriff Belmont looked at Artie and said, "He was afraid of you, Mr. Gordon. He said as much by what he wrote in his diary. He needed to get you out of the way, but he was afraid you'd get suspicious. Way I see it, Colonel Shear didn't trust that Franklin fellow--whoever he is--to do a good enough job of beating him up. Or, Colonel Shear--despite all his brave talk--knew he'd never be able to pull the wool over your eyes with that bullshit about the imaginary burglars.
"I know your reputations," Belmont continued. "You two are relentless. The coward chickened out. He knew you'd catch him. Shooting you from the cover of the woods made more sense. If he got you before you got him, no one would have ever known it was him out there.
"Doc is right, you did the crazed devil a favor when you killed him merciful like that. Who knows how many people he would have killed besides you two as his brain kept going rabid because of the syphilis. I won't be pressing any charges on his behalf, and I doubt anyone in Washington will either. They're gonna want to hush up a potential scandal like this. It won't do any good for the details of that journal to get out to the public. Let the dead rest in peace. He's somebody's son or friend. Let him be remembered for whatever good he did, not for this crazy shit!" Belmont said as he tossed the diary onto Shear's bloody clothes with undisguised contempt.
Artemus draped his arm around Jim's back and gave his partner's shoulder a comforting squeeze.
"Let's go, Jim. They're right. There's nothing more we can do here."
"Hector and I will get the body ready," Dr. Jackson promised. "You just tell us what train you want us to ship his body back to Washington on."
Jim and Artie thanked Sheriff Belmont, Dr. Jackson, and the mortician Hector Thayer, for their assistance. Jim was in a solemn, introverted mood as Artie escorted him out of the mortuary.
Artemus took Jim to the nearest saloon and bought him a drink. Jim knocked back the shot of whiskey in one blazing gulp. Jim didn't flinch. He just scowled as the firewater burned its way down his gullet.
Artie poured Jim another shot as they sat at a table by themselves with the bottle. They sat so close together they looked like birds perched on a telegraph wire. Heads bowed as they murmured to each other, Artie looked as fierce as an eagle protecting his falcon friend.
Jim sipped the second whiskey for a long while. Artemus never gulped liquor unless he was undercover. When Jim got morose and started brooding, that mood tended to last for a while…
When they returned to the train every car seemed to be haunted by the ghosts of What Might Have Been. Jim didn't feel safe until they sat down on the couch and Artie wrapped his arm around Jim like a protective wing. As soon as Artie hugged Jim tight, Jim wrapped his arms around Artie's waist and hugged Artie back. Jim's ragged sigh was heavy with gloomy emotions. It took Jim a long time to relax and respond to the comfort Artemus offered him without hesitation.
Jim laid his cheek against Artie's broad chest and listened to the strong reassuring beat of his friend's noble heart. Artemus held his fretful lover closer and pressed a gentle kiss into Jim's silky brown hair.
Jim was so grateful for Artie's deliverance all he wanted to do was hold his beloved friend close and make love to him all night. So that's what he did. He took Artie to bed and together they vanquished the ghosts of what might have been as they celebrated a love that would never die.
Colonel Shear's body was shipped back to Washington and buried with full military honors. Jim and Artie stayed in the field on their private train enjoying an illustrious career that made them famous lawmen.
The End