Stranglehold

by William W. Johnstone

  “Sorry,” Cox said. “I guess that after what happened to Dooley Jackson, I’m just a little jumpy, is all.”

  “It’s good that you’re jumpy,” Elmer said. “Ever’one should be jumpy.”

  “Yeah, it’s too bad that Dooley wasn’t. He was a good man. Sorry to see him get kilt that way. I mean, lettin’ someone sneak up on ’im ’n all.”

  “Maybe there warn’t nobody that snuck up on ’im,” Elmer suggested.

  “What do you mean? I heard he warn’t shot, ’n if he warn’t shot, then that means somebody snuck up on ’im. He was cut with a knife, ’n there ain’t no way you could get close enough to someone to cut ’em with a knife, unless you was to sneak up on ’em.”

  “You sure ’bout that? You heard me a-comin’, didn’t you? I was walkin’ real quiet, ’n I didn’t have near as far to come acrossed this roof to get to you as whoever the feller was that kilt Dooley had to go.”

  “Well, how else would someone a-got to Jackson like they done if they didn’t sneak up on ’im?”

  “What if they just walked up on ’im in plain sight?”

  “Why, they couldn’t nobody a-done that lessen—” Cox stopped in mid-sentence. “Damn! If it was somebody that Dooley knowed ’n trusted, why whoever it was coulda just come right on up to ’im, couldn’t he? ’N Dooley wouldn’ta thought nothin’ about it.”

  Elmer nodded. “That’s what I’m thinkin’.”

  “Then that means that most likely there would be someone that’s right here in town that’s a traitor, don’t it?”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what it means.”

  “I wonder who it is,” Cox asked.

  “I don’t know. It could be anybody. The point is, ever’one of us is goin’ to have to be real careful.”

  “Yeah,” Cox agreed.

  Elmer saw a single rider approaching town. “Here comes someone,” he said, nodding toward the rider. “You got any idea who that might be?” Elmer asked.

  Cox stared at the rider, then shook his head. “I ain’t never seen ’im before. But bein’ as he’s comin’ in all by his ownself, ’n he ain’t wearin’ one o’ them fancy uniforms like them fellers was a-wearin’ when they all come in the other day, then I don’t see no need for us to put out no warning.”

  “How often do you get strangers riding into town?” Elmer asked.

  “Well, a-fore all this business started with this here Schofield feller, we used to get quite a few folks that was comin’ in near ’bout ever’ day. Mostly it was folks that was just goin’ over into Mexico on a visit for a few days or somethin’. But the truth is, we ain’t been a-gettin’ ’em all that much here lately. Do you think maybe I ought to tell the sheriff about this here feller that just come a’ ridin’ into town?”

  “No, there ain’t no need for you to do that,” Elmer said. “I’ll keep an eye on ’im today, ’n if I get suspicious of ’im, I’ll talk to Duff about ’im.”

  * * *

  Yancey wasn’t wearing the uniform of Schofield’s Legion, but he did have a piece of red cloth tied to his horse’s bridle. That had been decreed by Schofield as part of the methodology by which he could be identified by their local contact. In carrying out the rest of the identification procedure he rode very slowly down the entire length of Cactus Street. He stopped in front of the Hidden Trail Saloon, started toward the door, stopped before he went inside, then returned to his horse and rode it to Golden Spur Saloon. There he did the same thing—dismounted, started toward the entrance of the saloon, then returned to his horse and rode down to the livery, dismounted and led his horse into the livery barn.

  These seemingly indecisive moves were by design. They, along with the red cloth tied to the bridle, were the means Schofield had described by which Yancey was to make contact with the mysterious resident of Antelope Wells. The man called himself Angus Pugh, and whatever his real name was, he was the one who was betraying his fellow citizens.

  After turning his horse over to the stable hand, Yancey walked to the back of the livery and looked out across the corral. He was looking into Mexico, and he really didn’t have to look far. The Mexican border was less than one hundred yards beyond the far side of the corral.

  “Hill,” a voice said from behind him.

  “What?” Yancey started to turn around to face the man who had spoken to him.

  “Don’t turn around,” the voice said. The man repeated the word hill.

  “Oh, yeah. Uh, climber,” Yancey replied.

  “Hold your hand out behind you,” the voice ordered.

  Yancey did so, and felt a piece of paper being put into his hand

  “What is this?” Yancey looked at what he had been given, but saw that it was in a sealed envelope marked for the Prime Director. Yancey was very curious as to what might be in the envelope, but he knew better than to open it. “You got anything you want me to tell ’im?”

  There was no response to his question.

  “Hello, Pugh? You still there? Can I turn around now?”

  There was still no answer, so despite the mysterious visitor’s admonition against it, Yancey turned around. And just as he thought, nobody was there. He might think that he had been visited by a ghost, had it not been for the envelope he was holding. The envelope was quite real.

  Yancey slid the envelope into his shirt pocket, then, leaving his horse at the livery walked down the street a bit until he reached the Hidden Trail Saloon. He was greeted by a provocatively dressed and heavily made-up, though pretty, young woman.

  “Hi, cowboy. My name is Ethel Marie. What’s yours?”

  “The name is Yancey.” He looked around the nearly empty saloon. “Where is everyone?”

  “Why, everyone is out getting ready for Schofield,” Ethel Marie answered.

  “Getting ready, how?”

  “Ethel Marie, there’s nae need for ye to be answering such questions from a stranger,” said one of the few customers of the saloon. He was wearing a star pinned to his vest.

  “Are you the sheriff?” Yancey asked.

  “Aye, Sheriff Campbell. Ye told the lass that your name is Yancey. ’N would ye be for tellin’ me, Mr. Yancey, what would be your business in Antelope Wells?”

  “I ain’t got no particular business to take care of here, but I don’t see how it’s none of your business for you to be a-knowin’ what my business was, iffen I had any business bein’ here in the first place.”

  “Aye, Mr. Yancey, I can see how ’tis that ye might be thinkin’ such a thing.” Campbell pointed to the star on his vest. “But seeing as I am the sheriff of Antelope Wells, the safety of all the citizens of this town are my responsibility, and that makes your business my business. Now I’ll be asking ye again, would ye be for telling me why you are here?”

  “It’s like I told you, I ain’t got no particular business other ’n I just come in to have a look around is all.”

  “Ye would be best served if ye would just leave town. Now is nae a good time for to be visiting,” Campbell said.

  “Sheriff, are you running me out of town?”

  Campbell shook his head. “I’ll nae be running you out of town, Mr. Yancey, for I cannae think of a reason to do so. But in case ye have nae heard, there is a vandal by the name of Schofield who has it in mind to attack our town with an army, ’n all who are here would be in danger. Ye not being a citizen of our town would be foolish to stay ’n put yourself in such a position when ye’ve nae need to.”

  “Yeah, well I tell you what, Sheriff, you just take care of your business of lookin’ out for the town, ’n I’ll look out for me.” Yancey smiled at Ethel Marie. “Barkeep, I’ll have a whiskey, ’n I’ll be buyin’ a drink for this purty thing here, iffen she’ll take the time to drink it with me.”

  “I’d be glad to, honey.” Ethel Marie looked around the saloon, which had but three other customers at the moment—Sheriff Campbell and two men who were much too old to be sharing the labor of the other men of the town.

  �
��It’s not like anyone else is bidding for my time,” she added.

  Chapter Twenty

  The women who were not engaged in the actual physical labor of constructing the walls prepared meals, then served them from long tables made from planks stretched across sawhorses in the middle of the street.

  Lucy and Meagan were among the women who were preparing the meals, and at the moment Duff and Meagan were sitting on the edge of the porch in front of Sikes Hardware, each with a plate balanced on their laps. Across the street from them, they could see Lucy and McGregor sitting in front of the Norton and Heckemeyer Law Office, doing the same thing.

  “Miss Culpepper and the leftenant colonel seem to be getting along well,” Duff said.

  Meagan laughed.

  “What is it? Why do ye laugh?”

  “Have you no eyes, Duff MacCallister?” Meagan said. “Can’t you see that they are in love?”

  “What? ’N would you be for telling me why you would say such a thing?”

  “It is as obvious as the nose on your face,” Meagan said. “Why, I saw it the first time Lucy came to our table, the way she and Mayor McGregor looked at each other. She won’t do anything about it, though, because she has a sense of obligation to her father.”

  Elmer stepped over to talk with Duff and Meagan. “Duff, did you see that feller that went into the Hidden Trail Saloon just a minute or two ago?”

  “Nae, I dinnae notice.”

  “Well, I was up on the roof o’ the hotel just a-fore dawn this mornin’, visitin’ with Buddy Cox when I seen him come ridin’ in. Cox said he warn’t from here. I been pretty much keepin’ an eye on ’im all day, ’n he ain’t done one lick o’ work to help anyone out. But he sure has been curious ’bout what all it is that we’re a-doin’. I can tell you that much.”

  “Spying on us, do you think?” Duff asked.

  “I’d bet a kiss from a pretty girl that he is.”

  “Ye may be right.”

  “If you don’t mind, I think maybe I’ll step inter the saloon ’n see if I can find out who he is, ’n what he’s doin’ here.”

  “I think that might be a good idea,” Duff replied.

  Elmer stepped up to the bar a few minutes later and ordered a whiskey.

  “Hello, Mr. Gleason,” Ethel Marie greeted.

  “Why, hello, Miss Ethel Marie,” Elmer replied with a friendly smile

  She started toward him.

  “Just a minute. Hold on there, woman!” Yancey called out to her. “What are you doin’ walkin’ away from me like that?”

  “Why, I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing, honey,” Ethel Marie replied. “I’m greeting the customers.”

  “Yeah? Well he don’t need no greetin’. I mean look at ’em, an old man like that? Why would you be a-wastin’ your time on someone like him anyhow? I’m a customer, and besides which, I’m the one that bought you a drink,” Yancey insisted. “That means you ain’t got no right to be a-spending any of your time with anyone else.”

  “Now, look here, Mr. Yancey. You may have bought me a drink, but you didn’t buy me,” Ethel Marie said.

  “Yeah? Well, that’s where you’re wrong, on account of when you buy a drink for a saloon whore, then that’s the same as if you was to buy the whore her ownself.”

  Ethel Marie got a hurt expression on her face. “I’m not a whore. I’m a hostess.”

  Elmer gave the bartender a dime. “Mr. Usher, would you please give that loudmouthed feller the cost o’ Miss Ethel Marie’s drink back to him, so he don’t feel cheated none with her walkin’ away.”

  “Who the hell are you, old man, to be a-buttin’ inter my business?” Yancey asked, angrily.

  “I was just seein’ to it that you got your money back so that you wouldn’t be so upset, is all.”

  “Woman, if you don’t come back down here, I aim to kill that old man,” Yancey said.

  “What? No!” Ethel Marie shouted. “You have no call to do anything like that!”

  Elmer stepped away from the bar and into the middle of the floor. By that move he managed to separate himself from Ethel Marie. “I may be an old man, sonny, but even I know you can’t kill someone while your gun is still in the holster.”

  “You’re right,” Yancey said, and then with a wide, confident smile on his face, his hand darted down to his pistol. As he brought his pistol up to bear, the confident smile was replaced by an expression of shock as he realized that the old man had drawn his own gun faster. There was no time for the shock to change to fear, before both guns roared.

  The bullet from Elmer’s gun plunged into Yancey’s chest. The bullet from Yancey’s gun went wide of its mark and slammed into the front wall of the saloon, right next to the door frame.

  Ethel Marie, Sheriff Campbell, Usher the bartender, and the other two saloon customers stood by, shocked by how suddenly an otherwise minor difference of opinion had developed into a deadly shoot-out, for Elmer’s bullet had gone right to the heart. Mo Yancey, a deserter from the US Cavalry, and now a sergeant in Schofield’s Legion, was dead before he hit the floor.

  * * *

  “Duff!” Meagan called out in sudden alarm at hearing the gunshot. “That came from the saloon that Elmer’s in!”

  Standing quickly, Duff drew his own pistol and ran down the boardwalk to the saloon. When he pushed through the batwing doors he saw Elmer standing, holding a smoking gun down by his side, looking at a man who was lying on the floor. Sheriff Campbell was bending over the prostrate form.

  “Elmer! Are ye all right?” Duff called out in concern.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Elmer said. “He ain’t doin’ so good, though.” He pointed to the man on the floor.

  “Elmer!” Meagan said, coming into the saloon a moment behind Duff.

  “He’s all right, lass,” Duff assured her.

  Meagan hurried over to Elmer to give him an embrace.

  “Ha!” one of the two older customers said. “I reckon that feller on the floor there figured that him bein’ a lot younger, he could beat you on the draw. Mr. Gleason, I’m proud of you for stickin’ up for us old folks, ever’where.”

  Elmer chuckled. “Well now, Mr. Bledsoe, I ain’t nowhere nigh as old as you are, so don’t get to thinkin’ me too old, now.”

  “Maybe not, but you’re old enough that me ’n Dale here can be proud of you,” Bledsoe said.

  “Hey, did you see this feller’s face right after he drawed his gun?” Dale asked. “I can tell you just what it was, that he was a-thinkin’.”

  “What was that, Mr. Kelly?” the bartender asked.

  “He was a-thinkin’, ‘oh damn, have I ever made a mistake here.”

  The others in the saloon laughed.

  Sheriff Campbell pulled a letter from the dead man’s shirt pocket. Opening the envelope he examined the paper inside, then let out a low whistle. “Och, I wonder what this might be?”

  “What have ye found, Sergeant Major?” Duff asked.

  Campbell held the paper out toward Duff. “’Tis a map. A map of all the fortifications we’ve been putting in. Everything all neatly marked.”

  Duff examined the map then nodded. “Aye, ’tis a right thorough job, too.”

  “I would say that the blaggard has had a busy morning,” Campbell said. “There are no secrets left, for he has it all marked, ’n even the sentinel postings.”

  Elmer shook his head. “No, sir, he didn’t do that this morning.”

  “Why do you say that?” Duff asked.

  “Well, sir, for one thing, I seen ’im when he come inter town this mornin’, ’n I’ve been keepin’ an eye on ’em all the time. I ain’t seen ’im makin’ no notes or drawin’ no pictures neither.”

  “Someone gave him this map,” Duff said, looking at it.

  “How do you know that for sure?” Meagan asked.

  “Take a good look at it,” Duff said, showing it to the others. “The fortifications here, here, and here are marked.”

  “Aye,�
� Campbell said. “’Tis as I said.”

  “I see, Duff,” Elmer said after he looked at the map, then showed it to the others. “’N here’s another reason someone give ’im the note. These here places that Duff’s talkin’ about, that’s marked all good ’n proper here? Some of ’em ain’t even been put in yet.”

  “Damn! That really does mean we have a spy right here in town, don’t it?” Usher said.

  “We’re going to have to find him before he does too much damage,” Duff said.

  “Captain MacCallister, ye have too much to do to be trainin’ our lads to defend the town, ’n finish up with the forts ’n all,” Campbell said. “I’m the sheriff, ’n seems to me I should be takin’ care o’ lookin’ out for any spies as may be among our midst. Ye just leave that to me, ’n ’tis this promise I’ll give ye. I will find the spy, ’n we’ll deal with him by whatever way it takes.”

  Duff nodded. “My thanks to you, Sergeant Major. You’re right. I’ve many more things to do to get ready for Schofield. And ’tis good to be for knowing that I’ll nae have to worry about a spy among us.”

  “I wonder who the son of a bitch is,” Usher said, then he saw Meagan and Ethel Marie. “Ladies, I ask that you forgive me my language.”

  Ethel Marie laughed. “That’s all right, Mr. Usher. If there is a spy in town, he really is a son of a bitch.”

  The others laughed.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “I’ve examined all the fortifications, Captain MacCallister,” General Culpepper said over dinner that evening. “I must say that your men are doing a very good job in putting them into place.”

  “Thank you, General,” Duff said.

  “How will you deploy your forces?”

  “’Tis my thinking that I’ll have the heaviest concentration of men at the north end of Cactus Street,” Duff said. “That way it will make it hard for Schofield’s men to even get into town.”

  General Culpepper nodded. “Yes, heavy defense at the point of attack could stop them, and that is certainly one way to do it, and since this is your command, the decision is yours. But that tactic, while preventing them from entering the town, would probably turn them away with minimal casualties. If you would allow me to make a suggestion?”