Look for these exciting Western series from
bestselling authors
WILLIAM W. JOHNSTONE
and J. A. JOHNSTONE
The Mountain Man
Preacher: The First Mountain Man
Luke Jensen, Bounty Hunter
Those Jensen Boys!
The Jensen Brand
MacCallister
Flintlock
Perley Gates
The Kerrigans: A Texas Dynasty
Sixkiller, U.S. Marshal
Texas John Slaughter
Will Tanner, U.S. Deputy Marshal
The Frontiersman
Savage Texas
The Trail West
The Chuckwagon Trail
Rattlesnake Wells, Wyoming
AVAILABLE FROM PINNACLE BOOKS
MACCALLISTER
STRANGLEHOLD
William W. Johnstone
with J. A. Johnstone
PINNACLE BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Teaser chapter
PINNACLE BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2019 J. A. Johnstone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
Following the death of William W. Johnstone, the Johnstone family is working with a carefully selected writer to organize and complete Mr. Johnstone’s outlines and many unfinished manuscripts to create additional novels in all of his series like The Last Gunfighter, Mountain Man, and Eagles, among others. This novel was inspired by Mr. Johnstone’s superb storytelling.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
PINNACLE BOOKS, the Pinnacle logo, and the WWJ steer head logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7860-4358-3
Electronic edition: March 2019
ISBN-13: 978-0-7860-4359-0
ISBN-10: 0-7860-4359-8
Chapter One
Ebenezer R. Schofield and Ulysses S. Grant had been classmates at West Point, and Schofield had risen to the rank of major general during the Civil War. After the war, though not a member of the president’s cabinet, nor even a government official, he had been given an influential position of personal trust by his old classmate, President Grant.
Schofield used that position to enrich himself, first as a participant in the Whiskey Ring, then in receiving bribes from railroad construction companies who were looking for government approval of their projects, particularly those that cut through Indian lands.
Schofield was caught up with the other corrupt officials in Grant’s administration, and sentenced to prison. After serving five years in prison (his sentence ameliorated by his connection to the president), Schofield was discharged, along with a decree barring him from ever again working for the government.
Part of his sentence was the government decree that Schofield forfeit all ill-gotten gains. They recovered over ten thousand dollars in cash, and were satisfied that he had made full restitution.
What the government did not know was that they had recovered less than twenty percent of Schofield’s money. Before going to prison Schofield had hidden a little over forty thousand dollars and he was ready to make up for lost time.
Schofield intended to institute the plan he had come up with while he was still in prison. Studying some of the maps that he found in the prison library, he saw something about New Mexico Territory that was particularly intriguing. Part of it was shaped like a bootheel that protruded from the extreme southwest corner of the territory in such a way that it was bordered on three sides by Mexico. It was, he saw, the most isolated and detached part of the United States.
One of the men Schofield had met while in the federal prison was Julian Peterson, also a graduate of West Point. After the war he’d absconded with an army payroll, but was caught and imprisoned. By coincidence, his prison sentence ended less than one month after Schofield was released. They had agreed to meet in Lordsburg, New Mexico Territory, after Schofield had provided Peterson with enough money to buy a train ticket.
Well aware that Peterson might just keep the money, Schofield was pretty sure he would show up. He had tempted his fellow prisoner with promises of wealth and power and knew Peterson didn’t have any other viable options.
Schofield’s trust was justified when he’d received a telegram from Peterson telling him the date and train on which he would arrive.
* * *
Schofield was standing on the depot platform in Lordsburg as the train rolled into the station. He saw Peterson, the third person to step down from the train, peruse the depot platform looking for him.
“General Peterson, I’m over here,” Schofield called.
Peterson walked toward him with a broad smile. “Hello, Schofield. What’s with the general? I never got higher than captain.”
“It’s Prime Director Schofield,” he corrected. “And I have just appointed you to the rank of general, assuming you accept the offer to join Schofield’s Legion.”
Peterson got a confused look on his face. “Schofield’s Legion? What is that?”
“I’ll tell you over dinner,” Schofield said.
* * *
Later, Schofield showed Peterson a map of the Territory of New Mexico. He pointed specifically to the Bootheel section. “This is the part that will concern us. I intend to sever it from the Territory of New Mexico, indeed from the United States, and establish a new nation.”
Peterson laughed. “Uh, you may recall that has already been tried, and the Confederacy didn’t work out so well.”
“That’s because eleven states seceded, and had they been successful, the nation would have been split in half. Believe me when I say that what I have planned is of no threat to the United States. The most we’ll have to deal with will be local law, and with our army, they can be easily overwhelmed.”
“You have an army already?” Peterson asked.
Schofield smiled. “At the moment, I have only a general and enough money to outfit an army, complete with weapons and uniforms. Your first job, General Peterson, will be to help me raise the soldiers. That is, if you are interested in the idea.”
“This starting your own country business, is there money in it?” Peterson asked.
“Indeed. As an independent country, we can assess taxes. Every working copper, gold, and silver mine will be taxed. Every rancher and merchant will be taxed. Oh yes, my friend, there is a great deal of money in the future of Tierra de Desierto.”
“Terra what?”
Schofield repeated the name. “It means Desert Land,” he explained. “And it is the name of our new nation. As Prime Director, I will be the unelected, but absolute, ruler, and as my general, you will be second in charge. Are you interested?”
“Damn right I’m interested,” Peterson replied.
“Very good, General,” Schofield said in response. “Our first job is to raise an army. I will provide weapons, uniforms, and a bonus for fifty men.”
“May I make a suggestion as to the organization?” Peterson asked.
“Of course. After all, you will be the general in charge.”
“I would suggest a captain, two lieutenants, and four sergeants. The remaining forty-two men will be privates.”
“Excellent suggestion, General. I’ll leave the business of recruitment to you.”
Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory
Duff MacCallister stood to one side and watched as his prime Angus cattle were being loaded into the freight cars after a cattle drive of eight hundred beeves from his ranch to the Cheyenne rail head. Unlike the long drives of a few years earlier, it had been an easy, two-day journey of only forty miles. From there the cattle would go by train to market in Kansas City, where he had contracted them for forty-five dollars per head.
When the last cow was loaded, Arnold Dupree, who was the buying agent, walked over to see him. “Here’s the bank draft. Thirty-six thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
“Aye, but there was a lot of work in getting the creatures to market, and a lot of expenses, too. Still, ’tis a good payday,” Duff agreed.
“I’m told that you’re the man to thank for getting so many to switch to Angus,” Dupree said.
“Aye, some have listened to my suggestion. ’Twas in Scotland where I first began to raise the creatures, and when I came to America, I decided this would be a good place for them.”
“It’s been good for us. We get a better price for Angus beef than we do for any other breed, even Herefords.”
The locomotive whistle blew.
“I must go,” Dupree said. “I’ll be accompanying the cattle to market. It’s been good doing business with you.” He extended his hand and Duff took it.
It had taken six men to drive the cows down from Duff’s ranch, Sky Meadow, but the six men, including Elmer Gleason and Wang Chow, had returned to the ranch as soon at the herd had been delivered. Only Duff remained in Cheyenne to receive payment, and because it was too late to start back, he waited until the next morning.
* * *
The next morning three men were waiting at Bristol Ridge, watching the road north from Cheyenne.
“Thirty-six thousand dollars?” Foley said. “You sure that’s how much money he’s carryin’?”
“Yeah, I was workin’ at the loading chutes when I heard MacCallister’n another man talkin’,” Otis said. “He was a cattle buyer ’n he had just bought all the cows MacCallister had brung in, ’n he paid ’im thirty-six thousand dollars for ’em.”
“Which one of you is the best at cipherin’? How much money will that be for each one of us?” Clemmons asked.
“Ten thousand for each of you, ’n sixteen thousand for me,” Otis said.
“Wait a minute. How come it is that you’ll be gettin’ most of the money?” Foley asked.
“On account of I’m the one that found out that MacCallister had all that money ’n he would be comin’ by here on his way back home, ’n that he would be all alone,” Otis explained. “’N I’m the one that let you two in on it.”
“He’s right, Foley,” Clemmons said. “Hell, we wouldn’ta knowed nothin’ ’bout the money if Otis didn’t tell us nothin’ about it. Besides, ten thousand dollars sounds good to me. I prob’ly ain’t had me ten thousand dollars all tolled up in my whole life.”
“Yeah,” Foley agreed. “I’m fine with ten thousand dollars.”
“It’s good that you are because—”
“Here comes someone, ’n he’s all by hisself. You reckon this is him?” Clemmons asked.
Otis looked around the edge of the butte. “Yeah! That’s him! Get ready boys, we uns is about to be rich!”
* * *
Duff was sitting easy in the saddle, letting his horse, Sky, proceed at his own speed. He was seriously considering running a few hundred head of sheep, though he knew he’d have to sell that idea to Elmer Gleason and Meagan Parker, both of whom were partners in the ranch. Elmer would be the most difficult to sell the idea to. He had an inherent prejudice against sheep, believing that sheep and cattle could not be raised together. Duff knew better. He’d seen such operations in Scotland. And unlike cattle, sheep could bring in money without being sacrificed.
He wasn’t concerned about Meagan. Her partnership wasn’t a hands-on arrangement and she would acquiesce to anything he wanted to do. The real question was, is this something he really wanted to do? Or is it just an idea that he found intriguing and—
“Hold it right there, mister!” someone shouted as three men jumped out from behind a butte and pointed pistols at him.
Sky was well enough trained that the sudden appearance of the men didn’t arouse a startled reaction.
“Well now. Ye would be Mr. Otis,” Duff said, nodding toward the man in the middle.
“What the hell, Otis? He knows you?” one of the men asked.
Duff chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t say we were old friends, but I do remember seeing him at the loading docks.”
“Yeah, I’m Otis.”
“And, let me guess. ’Tis thinking I am that ye would be for wanting the thirty-six thousand dollars I was paid for the cattle. Am I right?”
“You’re just real smart, ain’t you?” Otis said.
“Oh, smart enough to keep ye from getting the money.”
“How you goin’ to do that?” Otis asked, lifting his pistol to make a point. “’Cause the truth is, you’re either goin’ to give us that money, real peaceable like, or we’ll shoot you ’n take it offen your dead body.”
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t be wanting ye to take the money from my dead body, so I suppose I should give it to ye now. Then we can both be on our way.”
Otis nodded. “Yeah, that’s what you should do all right. Where is it? In them saddlebags?”
Duff shook his head. “Nae, I’ve got the money right here in m’ shirt pocket.” He raised his hand to his shirt pocket.
“Your shirt pocket? What kinda fool do you take us for, mister? There ain’t no way you can put thirty-six thousand dollars in that shirt pocket.”
“Sure you can.” Duff pulled out a small slip of paper. “Here it is, right here.”
“What? What are you talkin’ about? What is that thing?”
“’Tis a bank draft. ’N the only way to get money from it, is to take it to the bank,” Duff explained.
“So, what you’re a-sayin’ is iffen we take this here piece o’ paper to the bank, they’ll give us the money?” Foley asked.
“Ah, nae, I’m afraid not,” Duff said, shaking his head. “Ye see, they’ll only give the money to the people whose names are on the draft. That would be me, ’n two others.”
“Let me see that!” Otis demanded.
“Sure, if ye care to take a look,” Duff said, holding the draft out for Otis to take.
As soon as Otis took the draft, he, Foley, an
d Clemmons began to study it, diverting their attention away from Duff. Foley and Clemmons were holding their pistols down by their sides. Duff took advantage of their distraction, pulled his pistol, and fired twice. Immediately, both men let out shouts of pain and dropped their guns.
Otis looked up in surprise and saw that the odds had changed. He was the only one of the three would-be robbers who still had a gun in his hand, and he wasn’t pointing it at Duff.
On the other hand, Duff was pointing his gun at Otis.
“I’ll be for taking my bank draft back now, if ye don’t mind.” Duff smiled. “After all, it wouldn’t do ye any good, for nae bank would cash it for you.”
Otis held up the bank draft and Duff retrieved it. “And I’ll be taking the pistols as well.”
“Mister, this pistol cost me twenty-five dollars,” Otis complained.
“Aye, ’n it nearly cost ye your life,” Duff said. “Hand it over. You,” he said to Foley. “If ye would be so kind, dismount and pick up the other two pistols and hand them to me as well.”
Reluctantly, the man did as requested.
Duff stuck their three pistols down into one of his saddlebags. “And your long gun as well,” he said to Otis, who was the only one of the three who had a rifle in his saddle sheath.
Reluctantly, Otis handed over the long gun.
“Thank ye kindly,” Duff said with a friendly smile. “I’ll be taking my leave of ye now.” With a nod of his head, he rode away, leaving three dispirited and weaponless men behind him.
Chapter Two
“What do we do now?” Foley asked after Duff rode off.
“We follow him, ’n when we get the chance, we’ll take the money from him,” Otis said.
“That’s what we was goin’ to do this time, only there ain’t no money,” Clemmons said. “All he’s got is that bank draft, ’n even if he had given it to us, it wouldn’t be no good.”
Stranglehold Page 1
