Reunion
By Sarah O’Donoghue
This story originally appeared at The Unofficial Nicodemus Legend Homepage
The Legend characters are copyrighted by Paramount Television and by Gekko Film Corp. This story is in no way intended as an infringement upon those rights. This story is written solely for the entertainment of others.
Story copyright Sarah O'Donoghue 1999
"OK fellas, pull the rope!" Soon-to-retire Mayor Chamberlain Brown watched with pride as the big yellow banner was hoisted to its position above Main Street. He stepped back, and in the gathering dusk turned slowly, savoring the magical sight around him. Sheriff Motes had 'volunteered' his prisoners into helping to set up the dance floor and stage. Brown couldn't see them very well in the gloom, but he knew that they, along with the huge stretching food tables, were set up and prepared. Yes, it has been a productive day, thought the Sheriff. Everything was as ready as it could be for the Annual Sheridan Fall Festival the next morning. He smiled and turned, heading back towards his taxidermy shop. Suddenly, he heard a yell, and a thump in the main street behind him. Well, almost perfect, he thought, as he saw the shadowy figure of Skeeter pick himself up after falling off the ladder he'd been using to hang the banner. Ernest Pratt, aka Nicodemus Legend, was also enjoying the crisp autumnal evening. He had brought out his desk chair and was seated on his balcony, little clouds of mist forming as he exhaled the cool air. He stretched back, knocked the ash from the cigar he was smoking, and picked up the little brass telescope Professor Bartok had lent him. Ernest loved looking at the night sky, especially out here in Sheridan where only the dim gaslight from the Buffalo Head Saloon across the street obscured his view. Back in San Francisco, he had never really noticed the stars, but once the city was behind him the night sky had become brilliant. Recently Ramos, Bartok's colleague, had begun tutoring him in astronomy (Ramos had studied the subject for a semester at Harvard.), and with the use of Bartok's telescope Ernest was now able to find many of the major constellations. He lifted the telescope to his eye again and tipped back his chair against the doorway that led into his rooms. Above him, the Milky Way stretched majestically towards the Rockies in the distance and Pratt smiled to himself. It was amazing how he had learned to appreciate the simple and innocent beauty of nature in the last two years. While he had hardly neglected the old roguish ways of dime novelist Ernest Pratt, the honest nobility of Nicodemus Legend was becoming more and more part of his character. Ernest casually swept the telescope across the star clusters of the Milky Way when, suddenly, a brilliant flash caught his eye. He froze, and watched in wonder as a shooting star flashed for an instant, and was gone. "Moments such as these are what life is made of," he reflected. The next morning dawned cold and clear. The town was abuzz from dawn, with preparations for the one day festival in full swing before breakfast. For once, Pratt managed to drag himself out of bed at a respectable hour and sauntered downstairs for breakfast only to find his friends and scientific associates, Bartok and Ramos, already seated. Bartok looked up from his coffee and scrambled eggs, and gestured for his friend to join them. "Good morning, Ernest!" he called across the dining room. "Mrs. Grady invited us to have breakfast with you this morning, and with all the preparations for the Festival we thought we would make an early start." Pratt smirked. Of course Mrs. Grady would invite them, he thought. The matronly widow who ran the Silver King hotel was somewhat sweet on the Hungarian scientist, although he was oblivious to the fact. He sauntered across the room and took the spare seat at his friend's table. The three spent an amicable half hour over the breakfast table discussing the events planned for that day. The Sheridan festival was something that everyone in the town looked forward to each year, but this festival was to be extra special, as the ever enthusiastic Mayor Chamberlain Brown was retiring to concentrate on his taxidermy. Pratt, or rather Legend, had been the popular choice to succeed Brown, but the horrified writer had managed to persuade the good people of Sheridan to hold elections in the New Year. This festival was to be a send off of sorts for the popular Mayor and, because of the occasion, the writer had reluctantly agreed that the town celebrity, Nicodemus Legend, would make it a festival to remember. Between the three of them, Bartok, Ramos and Pratt had devised a stunning fireworks and action display to get the evening part of the festivities off to a good start. "Well, fellas," said Pratt, wiping the last traces of breakfast from his moustache with a napkin, "Shall we adjourn to the stage area? I hear Skeeter is going to open the first event of the day." "Isn't that the hog race?" asked Ramos. "And isn't Legend, or rather you, supposed to be judging it, Ernest?" asked Bartok. "Yes, and yes," grimaced Pratt. He brightened. "But since you two are part of 'Nicodemus Legend,' I figured you could help me!" The two scientists exchanged looks. "I'm sorry, Ernest," said Bartok, "but I really have to check the rockets and fireworks for tonight's show, and Ramos ... has to run some final checks on the new Legend balloon, it will receive its maiden flight this evening." Pratt sighed. Somehow he knew that he would always be on his own for the more mundane work Legend was obliged to undertake. As it turned out, Pratt was pleasantly surprised with the morning's events. The hog race was actually very funny to watch, especially when Alice, the winning pig for the last two years, decided to relieve herself on Skeeter's nice new shiny shoes. Poetic justice, decided Ernest, He shouldn't have dragged me into this event in the first place. Pratt's good humor rapidly cooled however when he discovered that he had to not only pose with the winning hog (Alice claiming her prize for the third year running.), but that he had to kiss her on the snout as well. After the hog race came a shooting competition, and after that a talent contest which Ernest was able to bow out of, leaving the judging to Mayor Brown. Pratt snuck out through the crowd and made his way to the saloon for a drink. As he crossed the main street, the noon stage flew past Ernest in a cloud of dust. Even though he would never admit it, his journalistic curiosity had never fully left him, and so Ernest decided to make a quick detour to the stagecoach stop outside Sheriff Motes' office to see who was arriving that day. He was curious to see that the baggage rack on top of the coach was empty, suggesting that there were only one or two passengers on the coach. This was an unusual event at most times of the year, as Mayor Brown's various 'Legend' tourist attractions brought a steady stream of Ernest's readers to the town. But today of all days, with the town festival, the lack of travelers was even more unusual. The coach came to a stop, and the driver jumped down, nodded at the boy who came out of the office to see to the horses, and opened the carriage door. A lone woman stepped out, dressed in a modest black traveling dress. Her hair was swept back in a severe bun. Pratt gasped and, almost as if she sensed his presence, the woman looked straight at him, a deep sadness in her eyes. Pratt stared, his gaze locked with hers. "Libbie Custer." he breathed. Before he knew what he was doing, Ernest crossed the street to face her, nervously clearing his throat and trying, desperately to think what he should say. Libbie was an old flame, and the only woman Pratt would ever admit to himself that he ever could have married but, as it happens sometimes, the two had drifted apart. He hadn't heard from her for years until she had contacted him and asked for his help. She had married a general with a fearsome reputation: George Armstrong Custer, and when the two men had met the previous year Pratt had found it very difficult to get along with the man. It wasn't exactly jealousy that he felt, although that was certainly part of the animosity he felt towards this ruthless soldier. Pratt had somewhat regretted the barbs he'd traded with the man, and the two did manage a degree of civility, probably more for Libbie's sake than anyone else's. And Pratt's heart had gone out to the woman when, just a few short weeks after their encounter, Custer was killed in battle. Pratt, Bartok and Ramos had all sent sincere condolences to the widowed woman, but had not been able to speak to her directly. And yet here she was, back in Sheridan with no warning. "It's good to see you again, Libbie," whispered Pratt, his voice shaky with surprise and emotion Libbie smiled and sighed. "I'm sorry its been so long, Ernest," she began. As Pratt began a concerned reply she cut him off. "I'm all right Ernest, really. It's been more than a year now, and I am healing. I wanted to see you again, Ernest. I've heard a lot about your exploits as Legend. You've helped a lot of people. You should be proud." Pratt smiled. Although Libbie was obviously still in mourning for her husband, her grief had obviously passed from searing pain to a more wistful sadness. Perhaps the Festival and his friendly company would do her good. "Are you planning on staying for a while?" he asked. "Well, at least for a few days. I'm planning on visiting my sister in Oregon, but I wanted to come and see you on the way." Pratt picked up her bags and offered his arm, which she gladly took. "In that case," he said with a smile as he lead her towards the hotel, "Let's see if Mrs. Grady has any room at the inn, and then I shall tell you all about my latest misadventures!" After they had left Libbie's bags at the Silver King (Despite the festival, a room had been found for Mrs Custer, just down the hallway from Pratt's.), they adjourned to the temporary open air tea shop that had been set up near the main arena. As Pratt regaled her with amusing stories of what had happened over the last few months, they watched the various activities of the Festival unfold before them. The talent show had, thankfully, finished but while they talked Pratt and Libbie were able to watch Chamberlain Brown deliver his favorite Shakespearean soliloquies, the Sheridan band recital, and an interpretative dance commemorating the founding of the town. (Pratt tried to leave for that one but, at Libbie's insistence, had to stay. To cope, he slipped Skeeter a silver dollar to get a whole teapot full of his 'special brew' from the barkeep at the Silver King). As day turned to dusk, a comfortable silence descended between the two companions. Pratt looked at the woman opposite him, and thought what a fool he'd been for letting her go so many years before. Moving slowly, he gently took Libbie's hand and again thought how beautiful she looked, even in her mourning clothes. "I've missed you, Libbie," he said softly. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" said Libbie, but Pratt could hear the slight catch in her voice. He was going to have to move very slowly if he wanted to rebuild anything between them. He lifted his gaze to the stage up the street, searching for the right words to express what he wanted to say, when suddenly he heard a ripple of excitement go through the people in the street. Everyone was beginning to congregate by the stage area, and suddenly Pratt could see why. A huge grin spread over his face. He caught up Libbie' s hand. "Come on," he said "You' re going to love this!" A very surprised Libbie followed him to the edge of the crowd, but when the people of Sheridan saw who was approaching, they quickly parted to allow their most famous and admired resident to go through to the very front. Suddenly, Libbie could see what all the fuss was about. In the gathering darkness she could see a mysterious fog enshrouding one of the smaller hills outside of the town limits. Roughly, she guessed, where Professor Bartok's Compound was. Suddenly a huge ethereal figure could be seen through the swirling fog. The crowd gasped as one, but Pratt smiled. This very same effect had been demonstrated to him when he had first arrived in Sheridan: It was Bartok's very own special optical illusion. One that had been so convincing it had persuaded the people of this town that the dime novel hero, Nicodemus Legend, had come to life. A voice boomed out in the darkness. A voice, Libbie noticed, that had a strong Hungarian accent ... "Good people of Sheridan, welcome to the evening program of the Sheridan Festival. Through scientific application, my assistant Ramos and I have constructed ..." Bartok was cut off by a huge chorus of "get on with it, Professor" which rose up from the crowd. Bartok evidently heard, and in a slightly miffed tone quickly concluded his speech. "Enjoy the festival everyone, and prepare to be amazed!" Always one for hyperbole, thought Pratt, oblivious to the fact that many people had leveled the same accusation at him for his writing. Suddenly the sky was ablaze with what looked like sheets of fire. Everyone gasped, including Pratt. He had known that Bartok and Ramos had concocted something special for this evening, but nothing had prepared him for this. After the fire came brilliant flashes of lightning, and then Pratt heard the faint high scream of rockets being set off. He could see tiny points of light shooting into the sky which reminded him of the amazing shooting star he had seen the previous evening. Suddenly, the rockets exploded into flashes of light followed after seconds by loud bangs that made everyone jump. Then there was silence, and a few people around Pratt began to whisper that they thought the show was over. A few people at the edges of the crowd began to drift away when a voice shouted out "Look!" Pratt looked, and could again see tiny lights shooting skywards, but whereas there had only been one or two at a time before, this time he could see that there were scores of them. Bartok's obviously been saving the best for last, he thought in the second it took for the next display to begin, and what a display it was! Suddenly the sky was ablaze with sparks of red, then green, then purple, then blue. The crowd gasped as the sky above them formed an ethereal ceiling of colorful sparks orchestrated to detonate mere seconds after one another. The waterfall effect lasted for less than a minute, but everyone who witnessed the spectacle would remember it for the rest of their lives. As the final rockets detonated, Pratt looked across at his companion and saw total wonder and joy in her face. He smiled. Once everyone was completely sure that the display had concluded, Mayor Brown took the stage and invited everyone to help themselves to the food tables, a suggestion that was met with hearty approval. The band struck up a gay dance tune and everyone headed off to eat, drink and be merry. Pratt gently took Libbie's hand and began to lead her to the edge of the stage area, hoping to have a private conversation. Suddenly he stopped. "What's wrong, Ernest?" asked Libbie. "Darn, darn, DARN!" he exclaimed, "I'm supposed to be up at the Compound! Bartok needs me for the next part of the display." He raced off towards the edge of town, leaving a very bewildered Libbie Custer behind him. He had just cleared the edge of town when he spied a velocipede at top speed, coming down to meet him. He quickly ran over to meet it and encountered a surprisingly relaxed Ramos in the driving seat. "I'm so sorry Ramos, I was ..." "It's all right, Mr. Pratt. The professor had anticipated that you may have become a little ... distracted by female company. We built a few minutes into the timetable for just this sort of eventuality, but now that you are here, we must go." Pratt gratefully jumped into the passenger seat and the velocipede raced out of town. Ramos managed to drive the velocipede to the Compound in record time, despite the darkness. Pratt leapt out to be confronted by very concerned Bartok who had left his adjustments on the balloon as soon as he saw the vehicle approaching. "Finally, Ernest! We really must get started!" "That was a great firework show, Professor," said Pratt as the three men raced to the balloon, trying desperately to change the subject. Bartok had known him far too long for the ploy to work, however. He just grunted and ushered Pratt up into the new balloon. Despite the gloom, Pratt couldn't fail to be impressed by the new balloon the scientists had constructed (The last one had been destroyed in a previous adventure.). The bamboo cage was gone, replaced with a large wicker basket construction about six times the size of the previous effort, and was even covered over at one end, making a shelter just big enough for three or four people as well as the large amount of scientific equipment. A newly constructed ball-lightning gun was mounted on one side, as well as a whole selection of gadgets that Pratt couldn't even begin to recognize. Above him, he knew was a whole new balloon design. Gone was the ball shaped canopy. In its place was suspended an elongated cylinder of gas filled canvas. It was bigger and faster, and tonight the new Legend Balloon was going to make its debut for the people of Sheridan. Once final flight checks had been completed, Bartok and Ramos took the craft up while Pratt lit the special torches Bartok had mounted on the sides of the basket. A strange, flickering light sprung up in the darkness, and, as they began circling over Sheridan, Pratt could swear he could hear gasps of wonder from the crowd below. Pratt quickly ducked into the shelter and changed his normal beige outer and hat for the gleaming white costume of the Hero of the Prairies, Nicodemus Legend. Bartok got out his voice amplification horn and addressed the crowd in his easily recognizable accented tones: "Good people of Sheridan, on behalf of Mr. Ramos and myself, thank you for all the effort that you have put into our festival today. We hope that you have enjoyed yourselves. May I ask you to join me in thanking a very special citizen of our town and our retiring Mayor, Chamberlain Brown for all the effort and time that he has so selflessly given us through the years." Spontaneous applause thundered out from the crowds below and Chamberlain moved forward onto the stage, visibly moved. He looked upwards at the Legend balloon overhead, and nodded at Bartok who took that as his cue. "Now, Ernest" he stage-whispered at his friend. While Ramos held her steady, Bartok readied another barrage of fireworks which he set off in a carefully timed sequence while Pratt, for once without complaint, helped by throwing out a line to Skeeter who was waiting below them in main street. Then, taking a very deep breath, he put his hand through the loop of the Bartok Octoped Rope traverser (a figure-of-eight metal clamp) and connected the other loop to the line. He climbed onto the edge of the basket, and, for a moment, the magnificent silhouette of the great Nicodemus Legend stood out in stark relief against the golden flicker of the torches. The crowd held its collective breath. Bartok lit the rockets, and as the first colorful sparks exploded in the night sky, Pratt leaped off the balloon in the closest thing he had ever managed to a swan dive, and then flew down the line to the crowd below, managing to land within six feet of an understandably nervous Mayor. He stumbled, but quickly recovered and took his bow on the stage. As he straightened, the figure of Libbie Custer came into focus before him among the sea of faces and smiles. She nodded to him and he saw the little quirk at the corner of her mouth. Libbie had always been a quiet woman, and the strains of the last year had made her even more restrained, but even so, he could see warmth and affection in her gaze. Never one for speeches, Pratt bowed again and made his way off stage whilst the rag-tag Sheridan band started up in a fast dance tune. As he tilted his head skywards, Pratt could see Bartok and Ramos turning the balloon around and heading back for the hills. He gave a quick salute to Bartok, who acknowledged him as they set off for the Compound. Pratt reasoned that they would be joining the festivities soon. Despite their dedication to science, Pratt's friends enjoyed a party as much as anyone else. His thoughts drifted to the balloon, half masked in shadow. It would be a wonder in daylight, he mused. Since everyone had pretty much eaten their fill, most of the crowd split off into smaller groups clustering around the tables making easy conversation. A few more adventurous couples made their way to the stage area and began dancing to the music. As Pratt circled the crowd he was delighted to see Skeeter and Lucy, the maid from the Silver King, dancing together. Lucy had a broad grin on her face: she had been nursing a crush on Skeeter for years, and dancing with him must have been her dream come true. Pratt had a hard time getting back to Libbie, as so many admiring people waylaid him to talk with the great hero of the town. Finally he managed to get to Libbie. The two gazed at each other, a myriad of emotions, hopes and feelings encapsulated in a moment. Thoughts neither could express. Without a word, Ernest lead Libbie past the crowd and away from the festivities. The band had changed gear, moving into a slower, more romantic tune which carried through the cold, still, autumn air. The moment was magic. They could both sense it. Without a word, Ernest took Libbie in his arms and gently kissed her. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring. But for now, this one moment in time, and this most wonderful and unexpected reunion, was his whole world. Fin
This story copyright 1999 Sarah O’Donoghue. As with everything else on the
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