Stranglehold

by William W. Johnstone

  “The news ain’t all bad,” Wang said. “We didn’t find the general dead.”

  Duff nodded. “Aye, there is that.” He hurried upstairs, then knocked lightly on Meagan’s door. “Meagan?”

  The door opened quickly. “Any news?” she asked hopefully.

  “Nae. How is Miss Culpepper?”

  “Very upset. Come on in.” Meagan moved aside.

  As Duff stepped into the room he saw Lucy lying on the bed. She wasn’t crying at the moment, though it was obvious that she had been. He walked over to her, and she sat up.

  “I heard you tell Meagan there was no news,” she said as she dabbed at red-rimmed eyes with a handkerchief that was already wet with her tears.

  “When is the last time you saw your father?”

  “It was during the wedding. He sat in the back row.” Despite her tears, she managed to smile. “He always sat in the back row in church. But, when the ceremony ended, I looked back there and he was gone. I didn’t worry about it too much. I figured he had just left early. But I couldn’t find him at home, and when I looked everywhere that I thought he might be, I didn’t find him anywhere. That’s when I went to the reception and . . . oh! I have ruined the most important day in Ethel Marie’s life! I must apologize to her!”

  “There is nae apology needed, lass. ’Tis well aware she is about your concern.”

  Duff spent a few more minutes with Lucy but she was unable to add anything else that might solve the mystery of her father’s absence. Taking his leave of them, he, Elmer, and Wang walked to the mayor’s office.

  When they stepped into the office McGregor was sitting in his chair with a dispirited expression on his face. There was a piece of paper on his desk.

  “Leftenant Colonel, what is it?” Duff asked anxiously. “Have you learned something?”

  “Aye, I have learned something. Ye asked about Angus Pugh, and who would know to use it?” McGregor pointed to the piece of paper. “This is a letter from the brigand who used the name. ’Tis a shock and a mortification that it would be him, of all people. Him that I trusted and loved like a brother.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as Duff reached for the letter.

  Charles—

  Aye ’tis Charles I am saying, not Leftenant Colonel and not Mayor. All these years I have had to salute you, and kowtow to you because you outranked me. But now I have the upper hand, for I have taken General Culpepper as my prisoner and I am holding him in a place known only to me.

  If you haven’t figured it out by now, Charles, I am the elusive Angus Pugh that we have searched for, and ’tis thanking you I am for providing me with the name behind which I could hide. For some time now I have been working with Ebenezer Schofield to establish a new nation in which I shall have power and prestige.

  Schofield was defeated on the battlefield, but I have come up with a way to snatch victory from defeat. It is my intention to put the general’s life to forfeit, redeemable only by the total surrender of Antelope Wells. It is I who have the upper hand now. You will be contacted again when final plans are made for the transfer.

  Duncan Campbell

  “Never would I have expected such a thing from the sergeant major,” Duff said, handing the letter over for Elmer to read. “I have always considered us to be friends.”

  “’Tis an evil thing to say, but ’twould have been better if you had let him die at Amoaful,” McGregor said.

  “Have ye any idea where this secret place may be?” Duff asked.

  McGregor shook his head. “I have nae idea at all.”

  * * *

  “I know where it is,” Lucy said after reading the letter.

  “What? Are ye sure? How is it that ye would know such a thing?” McGregor asked.

  “I should have said I know what it is, rather than saying that I know where it is,” Lucy corrected.

  “Lucy, forgive me, lass, but that makes nae sense. What do ye mean that ye know what it is?”

  “Sheriff Campbell has, uh, tried to pay court to me on occasion, and once he attempted to make himself more appealing by telling me of his secret place.”

  “But he dinnae tell ye where this place might be?” Duff asked.

  “No. He just said that he had bought it very cheaply and was trying to decide whether to keep it or sell it for profit.”

  McGregor shook his head. “I know of nae property that the sergeant major has bought. I fear he was just trying to impress ye.”

  “It should be fairly easy to find out whether or not Sheriff Campbell has purchased any property,” Meagan said. “Aren’t the deeds of purchase kept on file somewhere?”

  “Aye but there hasn’t been a transfer of property since—” McGregor stopped in midsentence and snapped his fingers. “Auction! There was a sheriff’s auction a few months ago. Campbell said that nobody showed up for it. ’Tis thinking now, I am, that he maybe bought the property himself.”

  Fifteen minutes later McGregor held the document in his hand. “’Twas the Goddard place that was auctioned, and here is the filing of the deed.” He showed it to Duff.

  “Purchaser, Duncan Campbell,” Duff read aloud.

  “Do you know where this place is at?” Elmer asked.

  “Indeed I do,” McGregor replied. “I’ll mobilize the Home Guard again.”

  Duff held out his hand. “Nae, if Campbell or Schofield sees an army coming toward them, I fear they will kill the general. Elmer, Wang, and I will take care of it.”

  * * *

  It was easy to see how the Pyramid Mountain range got its name, for the tallest peak, easily visible, looked exactly like the pyramids of Egypt. Duff, Elmer, and Wang had left their horses almost half a mile back and come the rest of the way on foot until they were within one hundred yards of the little cabin. Due to the topography of the area, they were certain they had not been discovered.

  From that distance they could see someone in front of the cabin, holding a rifle in the crook of his arm.

  “The way they got that feller standin’ out there like that means they ain’t takin’ no chances on nobody a-sneakin’ up on ’em, are they?” Elmer asked.

  Duff looked past Elmer. “Wang, can ye take care of him for us?”

  Wang nodded, but didn’t answer. He drew back into the arroyo behind them then crouched over and began to trot.

  Duff and Elmer waited for nearly half an hour with no sign of Wang.

  “Wang ain’t goin’ to be able to do it,” Elmer said. “I bet he’s done figured that out too, ’n has prob’ly give up on tryin’. Maybe we should wait ’til it gets dark then—”

  “There he is,” Duff said, interrupting Elmer.

  “I’ll be damned. Just how in hell did he get up there?”

  Wang was on top of the cabin, and having just come over the peak of the pitched roof, was sliding down the front side of it while in the sitting position. When he reached the edge of the roof, he jumped down behind the armed guard and quickly dropped him to the ground.

  “All right. He got the guard. Let’s go,” Elmer said.

  Wang held out his arm with the palm of his hand facing toward Duff and Elmer as if signaling them to stay in place.

  “Wait,” Duff said.

  “What’s he plannin’ on doin’ with that?” Elmer asked. “I ain’t never seen him use no gun before.”

  “I don’t know, but he has something in mind.”

  With rifle in hand, Wang ran around one side of the cabin, then disappeared. A moment later, Duff and Elmer heard gunfire coming from behind the cabin.

  “That’s it! He’s created a diversion!” Duff said. “Come on. Quickly!”

  With pistols in hand, Duff and Elmer sprinted to the front of the cabin. Duff tried the doorknob and finding it unlocked, opened the door.

  Three armed men were looking out the back, trying to determine the cause and location of the shooting.

  “Fillion, you were outside,” said one of the armed men. “What was that shooting?”

&nb
sp; “I expect that was my friend, Wang,” Duff said in a conversational voice.

  “What?” Schofield shouted, spinning around. “Shoot them, shoot them!” he shouted, pulling the trigger even as he called out the order.

  The cabin was filled with the deafening roar of gunfire. Smoke from the shots that were fired billowed out so thickly that for a couple of seconds it was difficult to see anything. When the smoke cleared, Schofield and Peterson lay unmoving on the floor. Sheriff Campbell, the third armed outlaw, was still upright and unhurt. He was standing behind Culpepper, holding his gun to the general’s head.

  “What happened to ye, Sergeant Major?” Duff asked. “I met many a sergeant major while I was in Her Majesty’s service, and ye were the best I ever knew.”

  “’Tis thanking ye I am for the compliment, Captain MacCallister. But I wanted more, and now I’m about to get it.”

  “And why would ye be for saying that, Sergeant Major? All your friends are dead.”

  “That just means more for me,” Campbell said. “And I can get new friends.”

  “I thought the leftenant colonel was your friend. I thought I was.”

  “Then ’twas wrong ye were thinking. Do ye play chess, Captain MacCallister?”

  “And why would ye be asking me if I play chess?”

  Campbell cocked the pistol that he was holding against General Culpepper’s head. The sound of the hammer coming back sounded deadly in the small, single room of the cabin. “Because, Captain”—a grin that could almost be described as demonic spread across Campbell’s face—“’twould seem that I have ye in check.”

  The British Enfield revolver that Duff carried was in his hand, and as his right arm was hanging loose by his side, the pistol was beside his leg, pointing down. Locking Campbell’s gaze to his own, he slowly and unobtrusively rotated his hand so the muzzle was no longer pointing down, but was being aimed by kinesthesis.

  “Checkmate,” Duff said quietly.

  “What?” Campbell asked, confused by the unexpected response.

  Duff pulled the trigger, and the bullet transited from its entry in the forehead, to its explosive exit from the top of Campbell’s head, spewing blood and brain matter.

  Eight months later

  It had been five months since Duff and Meagan had returned from their three-month tour to Scotland when Duff stepped in through the front door of Meagan’s Dress Emporium.

  “’N would ye be for tellin’ me, Mr. MacCallister what think ye of your tartan being made into my skirt and scarf?” Meagan asked in her perfect brogue mimicry. She held out the finished item fashioned from a plaid cloth of red, green, and blue.

  “’Tis lovelier than the sky of Scotland,” Duff replied.

  Meagan held the material to her face and flashed a beautiful smile. “Oh, Duff, thank you for taking me to Scotland with you. It was such a wonderful trip, and Scotland is so beautiful, it’s no wonder that you love it so.”

  “I love it, lass, because ’twas the place of my birth. But there’s no place I love more, now, than right here.”

  “Oh, how glad I am to hear that.” Meagan noticed then, that Duff was carrying a package. “What have you there?”

  “I heard from Charles McGregor today,” he said.

  “Oh, has Lucy had her baby?”

  “Not yet, but the newlyweds are both happy and healthy. Charles sent four books to me. This one is for you.” He took the book from the package and handed it to Meagan.

  She examined the cover.

  WE WILL BE FREE

  by

  CHARLES MCGREGOR

  “Oh, it’s his new book!” Meagan said excitedly.

  “Open the cover.”

  “He autographed it? Wonderful!”

  “Yes, he did autograph it,” Duff said.

  Meagan opened the book and looked at the autograph on the frontispiece.

  To Meagan Parker—

  A lady of courage, grace, and beauty

  And if I may be whimsical

  The good taste to enjoy books

  By Charles McGregor

  “Oh, how wonderful!” Meagan said.

  “There’s more.”

  “More?”

  “Turn the page.”

  She did, then gasped.

  This book is gratefully dedicated to:

  DUFF MACCALLISTER, MEAGAN PARKER,

  ELMER GLEASON, and WANG CHOW,

  My Great Friends

  and

  A sheòid (my heroes)

  TURN THE PAGE FOR AN EXCITING PREVIEW

  Johnstone Country. Keeping the West wild.

  U.S. Marshal Will Tanner is one hell of a manhunter. But this time, he’s chasing six men across three states with one gun and no backup. This isn’t justice. This is a suicide mission . . .

  DIG YOUR OWN GRAVE

  It starts with a prison break in Missouri. When notorious bank robber Ansel McCoy busts out, he teams up with five other outlaws. Then he and his gang rob a bank in Kansas. When they cross state lines into Oklahoma Indian Territory, U.S. Marshal Will Tanner steps in. Other marshals from Kansas and Missouri have already lost the trail, which means Tanner has to go it alone. Deep in the wilderness. Outnumbered and outgunned. One good man against six blood-crazed killers. Even if he manages to survive the elements and find McCoy’s hideout, it’s not just the end of his search. It’s his funeral . . .

  DIG YOUR OWN GRAVE

  A WILL TANNER WESTERN

  by National Bestselling Authors

  WILLIAM W. JOHNSTONE

  AND J. A. JOHNSTONE

  Chapter One

  Looks like Tom Spotted Horse was right, he thought. He dismounted and dropped Buster’s reins to the ground, then preceded on foot to get a better look at the camp by the water’s edge. The Chickasaw policeman had told him Ike Skinner had passed through Tishomingo, headed toward Blue River. Will wasn’t surprised. He figured Ike was on his way to Texas after a series of train station robberies south along the MKT. So when Dan Stone had sent him to arrest Ike, he had headed down the line to Atoka in hopes of cutting him off before he reached that town. Unfortunately, he was too late by half a day to intercept him in Atoka, but he had an idea that Ike might cut over to Tishomingo. He was sweet on a Chickasaw woman named Lyla Birdsong, who lived there, and that was where Will had arrested him before. Ike was never a man to use good judgment and it looked like the two years he had spent in prison did little to teach him any common sense.

  Will had also been too late to catch him at Lyla Birdsong’s father’s cabin in Tishomingo, but he hadn’t been hard to track from there. Ike had not waited long to camp for the night, which didn’t surprise Will, since he hadn’t seen Lyla in two years. He should have waited at least until he crossed the Red and celebrated their reunion in Texas, Will thought. He almost felt sorry for him. Ike was not a cruel criminal by any standard. He just wasn’t smart enough to make a living from anything but stealing. Better get my mind back on business, Will reminded himself, and made his way carefully through the stand of oaks on the banks of the river. Close enough to see the two people seated by the fire clearly now, he took a moment to verify what he had suspected. The other person with Ike was, indeed, Lyla Birdsong. He had hesitated because Lyla had apparently grown some in the two years since Ike was away, not so much up, but out. Will had seen her before on only one brief occasion, and she was a husky woman then. Looking at her now, she looked to be more woman than Ike could handle. He could only assume that she had come with Ike willingly, so he wouldn’t have to be charged with abduction on top of the armed robbery charges.

  Will moved a few yards closer before suddenly stepping out from behind a tree and calling out a warning. “Don’t make a move, Ike, and we’ll make this as easy as possible!” As he expected, the warning was wasted as Ike, startled, tried to scramble to his feet. Ready for just such a possibility, Will had his Winchester in position to fire. He placed a shot that kicked up dirt at Ike’s feet and stopped him from running. Then he quickly cr
anked another round into the chamber and placed a second shot in the dirt on the other side of Ike when he started to run in the opposite direction. “I ain’t gonna waste any more ammunition in the dirt,” Will threatened. “The next one’s gonna stop you for good.” The warning served its purpose. Ike hesitated a moment, but gave up on the idea of running for cover.

  “Will Tanner,” Ike moaned plaintively, “I shoulda known it would be you.” He stood by the fire, feeling helpless as Will approached, his rifle cocked and still trained on him. “Dadgum it, how’d you find me so quick?”

  “You’re a creature of habit, Ike,” Will replied. “You need to change your old ways, if you’re plannin’ to be an armed robber the rest of your life. Now, with your left hand, unbuckle that gun belt and let it drop.” While Ike dutifully complied, Will kept an eye on the Chickasaw woman, who had so far shown no reaction to his intrusion. Sitting calmly, her stoic expression registering no sign of alarm, she prompted Will to be extra cautious, lest she might suddenly explode.

  “Whaddaya botherin’ me for, Tanner?” Ike implored. “I ain’t done nothin’ to get the law on my tail.”

  “You held up the train depot in McAlester and again in Atoka,” Will answered. “Both stationmasters identified you as the bandit.”

  “How can they be sure it was me?” Ike blurted. “I was wearin’ a bandanna on my face.” A pregnant moment of silence followed immediately after he said it. “Uh . . .” he stumbled, an expression of utter frustration cramping his whiskered face. “I mean, he was most likely wearin’ a mask, weren’t he?”

  “Yeah, he was wearin’ a red bandanna, like the one you’re wearin’ around your neck,” Will said. “Now, you’ve rode with me before, so you know I don’t give you any trouble as long as you don’t cause me any.” He turned to the somber woman still sitting there, watching impassively. “How ’bout you, Miss Birdsong? There weren’t any reports that Ike had anybody with him when he held up the railroad offices. I’m guessin’ Ike just picked you up last night. Is that right?” She looked up to meet his gaze, but did not answer his question. “I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Will said, “so you’re free to go on back home.” He watched her carefully while she considered what he had just said. “Ike’s gonna be gone for a long spell,” he added.