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  Antelope Wells

  Lawyer George Gilmore and banker C. D. Matthews had returned to the mayor’s office to speak with Charles McGregor.

  “Mayor McGregor, have you heard about what happened at Cottonwood Springs and La Tenja?” Gilmore asked.

  “Aye, I have heard. ’Twas a terrible thing that happened there.”

  “La Tenja is the third community he has attacked. He kills almost half the population without regard as to whether they are man, woman, or child, then he occupies the town, establishing himself as absolute ruler. The same thing is going to happen here, I fear,” Matthews said. “What are you going to do to stop it?”

  “I’ve sent for someone,” McGregor replied.

  “That would be MacCallister?” Gilmore asked.

  “Aye. Ye said yourself that ye knew the captain.”

  “No, sir, what I said was that I knew of him, seeing as I was practicing law in Texas when he dealt with the Kingdom Come Gang.”

  “Then ye have confidence in the man,” McGregor said.

  “He’s a good man, I admit, but you may remember that we talked about contacting the army.”

  “Aye, I remember.”

  “I think it’s time we asked the army to come to our aid.”

  “Aye, and ’tis remembering our earlier talk about this that I tell ye that I’ve sent two letters requesting assistance, but I’ve nae heard back from them.”

  “I have an idea, Mayor, if you are amenable to it,” Gilmore said.

  “My good mon, under circumstances such as these we are facing now, I’m quite willing to try almost anything,” McGregor said. “What is your proposal?”

  “I think you should write another letter to the US Army, requesting help. Make it even more personal, and cite what happened to the mayor of Cottonwood Springs.”

  “I am willing to do so, but what makes you think ’tis any more likely for this letter to be answered that my previous two?”

  “Because this time, C.D. and I will personally carry the letter to the commanding officer at Fort Stanton,” Gilmore replied.

  A broad smile spread across McGregor’s face. “Aye! Aye, that would be a great idea, I’m thinking.”

  Chapter Eight

  Cheyenne

  The closest railroad connection to Chugwater was Cheyenne, and the trip to get there took Duff and the others an entire day by horseback. It wasn’t necessary to find accommodations in Cheyenne though, because the train left at eight o’clock that very night.

  Once they had boarded the train, Meagan sat under the gimbal lantern, then took a book from her bag.

  “Ye plan to read, do ye?” Duff asked.

  “Yes, it’ll be a couple of hours before the porter turns down our bunks, so I should get a good start on it.” Meagan held out the book for Duff’s examination. “It’s one of the two books you gave me. I’m sure you’ll recognize it.” Then holding the book under the excellent light provided by brightly burning lantern, she began to read.

  The Sword of Gideon

  BY CHARLES MCGREGOR

  Four men waited in a grove of trees alongside the road to Jaffa. One lay napping, one was picking figs, and the other two were keeping watch on the road.

  “Perhaps they aren’t coming,” one said.

  “Nahman, have you no patience?” Gideon scolded. “I heard it myself. A Roman officer accompanied by a slave will be arriving today, carrying money that will be used to pay the soldiers.”

  “That’s a lot of money,” Phegamon said. “Why would the Romans bring in so much money without a detachment of guards?”

  “They do so, because they think one officer will not attract attention. They are going to try and slip the money in without anyone knowing about it.”

  “Gideon,” Gestas said in a harsh whisper. “They are coming!”

  “How many?” Gideon asked.

  “Two. A centurion and his slave.”

  “See? It is just as I told you,” Gideon said. He drew his sword and looked at the others. “Get ready.”

  Meagan continued to read even after she went to bed, using the gimbal lantern beside her upper bunk to provide enough light for her to see. She took the book with her to breakfast in the dining car the next morning.

  “Still have the book, I see,” Duff said when he saw her.

  “Oh, it is a great book!” Meagan held the book close to her chest. “And this wonderful author is actually the man we are going to see?”

  “Aye, as ye can see by the name o’ the author on the book, it is Charles McGregor, one and the same.”

  “What a great talent he has. I can hardly wait to meet him.”

  “Duff, you had better be careful now. That this here colonel feller we’re goin’ to save might wind up a-stealin’ your girlfriend,” Elmer teased.

  “Nonsense.” Duff turned his head to one side and struck a pose. “What woman could possible give up this?”

  The others, including Meagan, laughed.

  * * *

  Midway through the second day of the trip they waited at the depot in Denver for the next train south.

  “Paper. Get your paper here!” a young boy called as he strolled through the depot with a bundle of folded papers under his arm. “Paper. Get your paper here!”

  “Lad, what is the paper ye are selling?”

  “Why, it’s the Rocky Mountain News, sir. The finest paper in the state, and in the whole county, too, I’m thinking.”

  “Sure, ’n with such an endorsement now, how could I not be for buying the paper? I’ll have one.”

  “I’ll have one as well,” Meagan said.

  “Yes, sir, and yes ma’am!” the boy replied. With a wide and happy smile, he exchanged paper for coin.

  Elmer and Wang were absent during the transactions. They were making certain that the horses, who would be accompanying them for the entire way, were comfortable and in position to be reloaded onto the next train when they resumed their trip south.

  The above-the-fold story on the front page was of the Chinese Exclusion Act. The bill passed by Congress and signed into law by President Chester A. Arthur provided an absolute ten-year moratorium on Chinese labor immigration.

  After a quick read, Duff saw that it would have no effect on Wang’s status. It was a story on the second page of the paper, however, that caught his attention.

  Area of New Mexico Declares Independence From United States

  A peculiarity in the way the border is drawn between Mexico and the United States has produced a “Bootheel” along the southern border of the territory of New Mexico. This geographic anomaly has as its northern border, the 32nd Parallel. The east, south, and west parameters of the area in question are bordered by Mexico. And though this Bootheel protrudes into Mexico itself, it is, in fact, a part of the United States.

  Heretofore the ownership of this protrusion of land has not been questioned, as Mexico recognizes the area as clearly belonging to the United States. However a new presumption of ownership has been filed upon the land, not by any foreign government but from an American who has abandoned his own citizenship in this great country in order to declare the founding of a new nation.

  Like the failed experiment by which eleven states attempted to secede a few years past, this new “nation” has been established by act of secession. It is being called Tierra del Desierto, or Desert Land.

  According to the Declaration of Autonomy, copies of which have been widely distributed, all land within the confines of this geographic area will come under the rule of one Ebenezer Schofield, a West Point graduate who, during the late war, held the rank of major general in the Union army. After the war, he turned his back on honor and service to take part in several nefarious schemes, all of which led him to serve some time in prison.

  This dishonored individual has further discredited himself by an act of treason against the country he once served. By self-appointment, the erstwhile General Schofield has established himself as the ruler of this illegal country,
and has taken unto himself the rather vainglorious title of Prime Director.

  It has been said that Schofield has raised a rather substantial army he calls Schofield’s Legion, by which he has already occupied three of the four towns within the disputed area. However, this newspaper has been unable to validate those claims.

  The Rocky Mountain News intends to follow future events as they pertain to the New Mexico Bootheel, and will report upon them as news comes available. In that way our readers will be well informed.

  “This has to be the man that Leftenant Colonel McGregor is concerned about,” Duff said, pointing out the newspaper article to Meagan.

  “Oh, my!” she said after reading it. “Why did your friend have to come to you about it? Why didn’t he go to the army? After all, it was the army that handled the last insurrection.”

  “Aye, ’tis a good question, lassie. One that will be needin’ an answer.”

  Fort Stanton, New Mexico Territory

  George Gilmore and C. D. Matthews were waiting in the outer office of the post headquarters when the post sergeant major came out of a back room.

  “Colonel Dunaway will see you gentlemen now.”

  “Thank you,” Gilmore said.

  Colonel Dunaway was sitting at a large, carved desk. Behind him was the flag of the United States and a large map of the territory of New Mexico. As the two men approached, he stood and stuck his hand out. “Mr. Gilmore and Mr. Matthews, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He pointed to two empty chairs. “Please, have a seat.”

  There was a scrape of chairs on the wide plank floors as the two men took the proffered seats.

  Colonel Dunaway picked up a paper lying before him and studied it for a moment then he spoke. “If I understand this petition correctly, you want me to send army troops to Antelope Wells to put down an armed insurrection against the United States?”

  “If you’ll notice, Colonel, it isn’t the two of us who are making the request. We are only the messengers. This is an official petition from Charles McGregor, the mayor of our town,” Gilmore answered.

  “We have no military posts in the Bootheel area,” Colonel Dunaway said.

  “That’s true, Colonel. That’s why we had to come some considerable distance to Fort Stanton,” Matthews said.

  “You miss my point, Mr. Matthews. If we have no army posts there, that means that no army posts have been attacked. And if no army posts have been attacked, that means there is no insurrection against the United States government. What you have is a civil disturbance, and in accordance with the Posse Comitatus Act, I am not authorized to introduce any troops.”

  “The what act?” Gilmore asked.

  “The Posse Comitatus Act,” Dunaway repeated. “That, gentlemen, is a United States federal law that was signed on June 18, 1878 by President Rutherford B. Hayes. The purpose of the act—in concert with the Insurrection Act of 1807—is to limit the powers of the federal government in using its military to act as domestic law enforcement personnel in what is basically a civil problem.

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could send some troops down there to help, but my hands are tied.”

  “Wait a minute, Colonel. Didn’t we just, not too terribly long ago, fight a civil war? And the emphasis in my question is on the word civil,” Gilmore said.

  “That is true, Mr. Gilmore. But that insurrection began with an attack on a United States installation, in particular, Fort Sumter. Now, if these outlaws who purport to be engaging in a revolution against the United States were to actually attack a U.S. installation such as this very post, for example, then we would, indeed, be able to interfere.

  “Until that time, however, and without specific authorization to do so from the Secretary of War, my hands are bound by the Posse Comitatus Act. I’m sorry. I wish I could be of help to you.”

  Chapter Nine

  It was a very disappointed Gilmore and Matthews who returned to Antelope Wells to report on the failure of their mission.

  They met in the city council room, giving the report to Mayor McGregor, Sheriff Campbell, as well as Hugh Poindexter, Paul Carson, and Nate Emmet. The latter three men, along with Gilmore and Matthews, made up the city council.

  “I’ve nae heard of such a law,” Campbell said. “What is the purpose of the army, if it is nae to protect the people?”

  “I’m afraid, gentlemen, that we are going to be on our own,” Matthews said.

  “Wait. Are you saying we are going to have to fight against this madman?” Carson asked.

  “It looks as if we must,” Gilmore said.

  “No. That’s crazy!” Carson said. “In case you haven’t been paying attention to things, Schofield has an army with him. He has already killed dozens of innocent people. We can’t stand up to him! Why, it would be insane even to try!”

  “We have no choice, Paul,” Poindexter said.

  “Yes, we do have a choice,” Carson insisted.

  “And what choice would that be?” Matthews asked.

  “We could surrender to him.”

  “Surrender? Are you daft?” Emmet asked in an angry and disbelieving bark.

  “No, I’m not. Hear me out. Almost seventy people were killed in Hachita, and even more in Cottonwood Springs and La Tenja. There is no way of knowing how many others—ranchers or people who live outside of the towns—have been killed. And what has been the result?

  “I’ll tell you the result,” Carson said, continuing to make his point. “The result has been numerous lives lost, and in every case Schofield has wound up in control of the town. He now controls every town in the Bootheel but this one. Since there is no way we can defend ourselves against him, and since he is going to wind up in control of our town anyway, why not just surrender to him, and spare the many useless deaths that will occur if we fight him?”

  “We are nae going to surrender,” McGregor said resolutely.

  “You aren’t the king, McGregor. You are just the mayor. We have a city council, and you are bound to do what we tell you to do. I’m calling, right now, for a vote. I say that we send an emissary out to meet with this man who calls himself the Prime Director and surrender the town of Antelope Wells to him.”

  “All right, gentleman, the question has been called,” McGregor said. “So, we’ll be having the vote now. All who are in favor of sending an emissary to that brigand, Schofield, so that we may lay ourselves at his mercy, raise your hands.”

  Carson’s hand shot into the air.

  “And those who are opposed?”

  Every other member of the city council voted against Paul Carson’s proposal.

  “The proposal has failed. Gentlemen, we will fight for our town,” McGregor said.

  “Who are you going to get to fight?” Carson asked.

  McGregor smiled. “I’ve asked a friend to come help us.”

  “A friend?”

  “Aye, here is a copy of the letter I sent him.” McGregor handed the letter over to Carson.

  He read it quickly, then passed it back. “So, you have invited someone who served with you when you were back in Scotland, and that is supposed to quell my concern?”

  “Sergeant Major, tell Mr. Carson and the others about Captain Duff MacCallister.”

  Campbell smiled. “He is a one-man army, he is. We will do well to have him.”

  “One man,” Carson said. “Mr. Gilmore and Mr. Matthews were unable to get the army to come to our aid, but we shouldn’t worry because you have invited this, this Duff MacCallister, to come to Antelope Wells and save us from Schofield’s Legion.”

  “As we have told you, Mr. Carson, Captain MacCallister is nae just any man. He is most remarkable, ’n I have absolute confidence that he is more than a match for Schofield,” McGregor said.

  “Aye, he will put up quite the fight,” Sheriff Campbell added.

  Carson shook his head and raised his finger. “Your man MacCallister will put up quite the fight, you say. Perhaps that is so, but in the end the result will be the same. Many of our
citizens will be killed, and we will still be forced to surrender. You will rue the day you made this decision, gentlemen. There is no way of knowing how many men, women, and children will die in this foolish attempt to defend the town, and their deaths will be on the heads of you who voted against a reasonable solution.

  “You will rue the day,” he said again.

  “Paul, I, too, know this man,” Gilmore said. “Well, I don’t actually know him, but I certainly know of him.” He told Carson the story of Duff MacCallister defeating the Kingdom Come Gang. “And believe me, this gang was quite large, well-armed, and vicious enough to kill anyone with impunity. C.D. and I tried to get the army to come to our aid and were unsuccessful with our efforts. I do believe, however, that there is a reasonable hope that someone like Duff MacCallister will be able to help us.”

  “One man,” Carson said. “You’re all putting the safety of this city and everyone in it in the hands of one man. You are crazy. All of you are crazy.” Then, with one final look of condemnation, Carson turned and hurried from the council room.

  McGregor, Campbell, and the others watched him leave, then Gilmore spoke. “I’ve known Paul Carson for a long time. I’ve never seen him so angry.”

  “Ye wouldn’t be for thinkin’ that Mr. Carson might take it on himself to try ’n make some deal with Schofield, would ye?” Sheriff Campbell said.

  “No,” Gilmore said, shaking his head. “He is angry, true enough, but he is a good man, and there is no way he would sell the rest of us out.”

  “I wish I could agree with you, Charles,” Nate Emmet said. “Oh, I agree with you that Carson is a good man, but he is also a man of principle, and if he truly believes this is our only option, he may very well try and work out some deal on his own.”