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  “Sergeant Major,” McGregor said. “Perhaps ’twould be good for you to keep an eye on Mr. Carson.”

  “Aye, I’ll do so,” the sheriff replied.

  * * *

  Ebenezer Schofield had returned to Cottonwood Springs, which had been designated by him as the capital city of Tierra de Desierto. At the moment he was seated at the dining table, eating from fine china. The food had been prepared and was being served by Frederica Arino, the twenty-four-year-old sultry beauty who had been confiscated along with the house.

  “Señorita, you have used too much chili powder,” Schofield complained. “Throw it out and start all over.”

  “The mayor, Señor Gilbert, always say use much chili powder,” Frederica said.

  “Gilbert is no longer the mayor, nor is he the master of this house. He is dead, and I am now the master. You must learn what my preferences are and respond accordingly.”

  “Qué?” the servant asked, not understanding his comment.

  “Throw it out and start over,” Schofield demanded, pushing the plate away.

  “Sí, señor,” Frederica said, taking the plate and leaving quickly.

  There was a quiet knock at the door.

  “Prime Director?”

  “Yes, come in, General Peterson.”

  “We have received a bit of intelligence that I think might be important.”

  “All right, let me see it,” Schofield said, reaching for the paper that General Peterson was holding in his hand.

  Dear Prime Director Schofield,

  I don’t know if you have ever heard of Duff MacCallister, but he is quite well-known up in Wyoming. He is a warrior of great skill and courage, and he could be a problem for you. I enclose herein, as far as I am able to reproduce, the letter that Charles McGregor sent to MacCallister. It isn’t exact because I’m doing it from memory, but you’ll get the idea, I’m sure.

  My Dear Captain MacCallister,

  Circumstances lead me to ask you for help.

  If you’re willing to help, you’ll find me in Antelope Wells, New Mexico.

  I’ll be easy to find because I’m the mayor of the town.

  Charles McGregor

  Schofield read the letters, then handed them back to Peterson. “Who sent these letters?” he asked.

  “We don’t know, sir. There was a third letter in which a proposal was made,” General Peterson said. “Here is that letter.”

  Dear Prime Director Schofield,

  If you are reading this letter then you have already read the other two letters, for this is the order in which I wished them to be presented to you. I am a well-placed citizen of the town on Antelope Wells. My position is such that I shall be able to provide you with very specific and credible information, which you will find helpful.

  The enclosed information is but an example of what, over a period of time, I will be able to make available to you. In exchange for my efforts, I would want you, after you have consolidated all your gains and established your new nation, to grant me certain considerations. I would expect you to evaluate the considerations based upon your level of satisfaction with the information I shall provide.

  The name I shall use in this, and all future transactions is not my real name, but it is the way by which I will identify myself if and when I meet you or one of your emissaries. That name, and by which I conclude this missive is Angus Pugh.

  Schofield lay the letter on his desk, then glanced up at Peterson. ”I must say that this sounds like quite an intelligent bartering position. If he becomes a continuous and reliable source of information that proves helpful and reliable, I am prepared to reward him in a way that is commensurate with the value of his contributions.”

  “Yes, sir, I thought you might.”

  “Now, I would like for you to find out all you can about this man our new ally has told us about. This man, Duff MacCallister.”

  “I will, sir,” Peterson promised.

  Lordsburg, New Mexico Territory

  It had been a long and tiring trip—started by horse almost one thousand miles north, then by train from Cheyenne. Having reached Lordsburg, the travelers would once more be on horseback for the remaining ninety miles. Elmer and Wang were seeing to the offloading of their horses while Duff and Meagan went into the train station.

  Duff saw a Western Union sign, and stepped up to the counter. “Tell me, would it possible to send a telegram to the wee village of Antelope Wells?”

  “Oh, indeed it is, sir. That’s one of the major crossings into Mexico,” the telegrapher responded.

  “Good. Then I’ll be for sending a telegram there if you please.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be happy to do it.” The telegrapher slid a tablet and a pen across the counter. “Just write your message here.”

  “My thanks to you,” Duff said as he took the pad and began to write the message.

  TO HIS HONOR THE MAYOR LEFTENANT

  COLONEL CHARLES MCGREGOR STOP

  I AM IN LORDSBURG AND EXPECT TO BE

  IN ANTELOPE WELLS WITHIN TWO MORE

  DAYS STOP

  CAPTAIN DUFF MACCALLISTER

  Antelope Wells

  Charles McGregor had invited Duncan Campbell to have dinner with him. “I have some news to share with you, Sergeant Major.” McGregor passed a piece of paper across the table. “This is a telegram I received yesterday. As you can see, our old friend has answered my request to come to our aid. He is already in Lordsburg.”

  “I had nae doubt but that he would answer the call,” Campbell said. “It will be good to see the captain again.” Subconsciously, he rubbed a spot on his leg, the scar of a wound he had suffered in the Battle of Amoaful. “He could have left me on the battlefield to the mercy of the heathen Ashanti, but he braved enemy fire to come to my rescue.”

  “Aye, that he did. Have I done the right thing, Sergeant Major? I’m for sure and certain that Schofield will be for trying to take our wee village as he has all the others, and as ye said, there was nae doubt but that Captain MacCallister would come to our aid if I asked. But have I asked him to take part in a battle that cannae be won? Have I invited him into a trap?”

  “Aye, there’s nae doubt but that the blackhearted bastard will make an attempt to take our town,” Campbell said. “’N Captain MacCallister is only one man. But there is nae need to remind ye, Leftenant Colonel, what a man he is.”

  McGregor nodded. “Aye. I sincerely believe that Duff MacCallister will be the salvation of Antelope Wells, and indeed of every other town this man Schofield has taken since he began.”

  “I’ll have to be for meetin’ him to give him a good welcome, ’n to tell him everything we know about Schofield ’n his army,” Campbell said. “How long before he will get here?”

  “The telegram was from Lordsburg, ’n ’tis a two-day trip from there,” McGregor said.

  Chapter Ten

  Lordsburg

  “Will we be stayin’ in a hotel tonight?” Elmer asked.

  “Aye, I can get us the rooms we’ll need.”

  “Perhaps I will not be welcome,” Wang suggested.

  “You’ll be welcome, Mr. Wang,” Meagan said. “I’m quite certain that Duff will be able to make the necessary arrangements.”

  * * *

  “I would like accommodations for the night,” Duff told the hotel clerk. “Three rooms, one for the lady, one for me. My two friends will share the third room.”

  “If that Chinaman is one of your two friends, he’ll not be sharin’ a room with no one. Leastwise, not in this hotel.”

  “Very well, then I shall need four rooms, one for each of us.”

  “Mister, you aren’t understanding me. It isn’t that he can’t share a room, it’s that he can’t stay here at all.”

  Duff assumed a very haughty British accent. “My good man, I am Sir Duff MacCallister, an envoy of Her Majesty, the Queen. Mr. Wang is my valet. Now, if he is good enough to be a personal houseguest of President Chester Arthur, I fail to see why he
may not qualify to be a paid guest in this establishment.”

  “Oh!” the clerk said, startled and intimidated by Duff’s response. “By all means, sir, you and your personal, uh, servant—”

  “He is much more than a servant, sir. He is my gentleman’s gentleman.” Duff leaned closer and added, “A position in my country that is regarded with much esteem.”

  “Yes, sir, you are all welcome in the Lordsburg House,” the clerk said. “The Chinaman included. It’s like you said, anyone who can be the president’s guest in the White House is certainly welcome here.” He turned the registration book toward Duff.

  * * *

  “Duff, what do you mean Wang was a guest of President Arthur?” Meagan asked as they all gathered in the upstairs hallway just outside the three rooms. “When did that happen?”

  “Why, it has nae happened,” Duff said. “At least, nae to my knowledge.”

  “But you told the clerk that he had been a guest of the president.”

  “Did ye nae listen, lass? I dinnae say he had been a guest of the President. I said he was good enough to be a guest of the president. And ye’ll nae be denying the truth of that, will ye?”

  Elmer laughed out loud. “Yes, ma’am, that’s what he said, all right.”

  Meagan laughed as well. “Now that I think about it, that is what you said. And I certainly agree with you, when you say that Wang is good enough to be a guest of the President of the United States. Why, I can’t think of anyone who would not be graced by his presence.

  “Shifu Duff, you, Elmer, and Missy Meagan are my friends,” Wang said. “I am much humbled by your friendship.”

  Shortly after they went to their rooms, Duff heard a quiet knock on his door.

  “Duff?”

  It was Meagan’s voice and he moved quickly to open the door and invite her in. “I’ve but one chair. Ye can sit on the chair or on the bed.”

  Meagan smiled provocatively. “Or we could both lie in the bed.”

  * * *

  With an almost beatific smile, Meagan returned to her own room. Duff decided to take a walk around town. The first place he visited was the local newspaper office, where he requested any articles they may have printed about what was going on down in the Bootheel of New Mexico.

  “Oh,” the newspaper publisher replied. “You would be talking about the man who calls himself Prime Director. Ebenezer Schofield, formerly a general in the United States Army. As a matter of fact I have quite a few articles, if you would care to buy the issues.”

  “Aye, I would glad to buy them.”

  “You would be surprised at just how many people want to treat the newspaper office as a lending library,” the publisher said as he began gathering the requested issues. “I have to make a living the same as everyone else.”

  “I’m just passing through your town. Would ye mind if I sat on the bench there to read the papers?”

  The publisher smiled. “Why, no, I wouldn’t mind at all. To see someone reading the papers would be a good advertisement. Would you like a cup of coffee? I’ve some fresh made.”

  “Aye, ’n m’ thanks to ye.”

  For the next several minutes Duff read the papers and sipped at his coffee. “I wonder if I might make an inquiry?”

  “Sure. As publisher of the newspaper I pride myself on keeping up with events. How can I help you?”

  “Why is it that the army has taken nae hand in the business south of here?”

  “I see that you haven’t gotten to that issue yet.” The publisher looked through the papers he had given Duff, selected one, then handed it to him. “This will answer your question.”

  Duff read the article about the request for help from some citizens representing the town of Antelope Wells. The article went into great detail about the Posse Comitatus Act. It editorialized that the newspaper disagreed with that act and felt that the army should come to the rescue of those citizens who were being put at risk by Ebenezer Schofield.

  Duff considered the implications. On the one hand, it meant that his friend Charles McGregor could count on no help whatever from the army. But there was a positive side to it. Without the army, Duff could come up with a plan of action without worrying about any interference.

  * * *

  When Duff stepped into the dining room later that evening, he saw that it was already crowded with diners. Sitting at one of the tables were three cowboys. They seemed to be enjoying each other’s company as their conversation was loud and their laughter even louder.

  He located the table occupied by Elmer and Meagan and joined them. “Where’s Wang?”

  “You know how particular Wang is. He went over to check on the horses to make sure they’re all right.”

  “Aye, one of his more sterling qualities is his attention to detail.”

  “There he is now,” Meagan said.

  Looking toward the door of the dining room they saw that Wang had stepped inside and was studying the room.

  Duff knew that he wasn’t just looking for them, but was making himself familiar with the layout and the people in the room. His reason for such caution was instantly justified when one of the cowboys challenged him.

  “Hey, Chinaman, are you sure you’re in the right place? There ain’t no slant-eyes allowed in here. Just whites.”

  Elmer got up.

  “Elmer, dinnae be for making a scene,” Duff said quietly.

  “I’ll be just real quiet about it,” Elmer promised. He walked over to the table where the cowboys were sitting.

  “What the hell do you want, old man?” asked the same man who had called out to Wang.

  “I was thinkin’ maybe I’d do you three boys a favor,” Elmer said.

  “Yeah? Well just what kind o’ favor is it you got in mind? Buyin’ us a drink to go with our supper, maybe?”

  The other two laughed.

  “No, nothin’ like that. I was thinkin’ more along the lines of maybe keepin’ you three boys from gettin’ hurt.”

  “What do you mean? How are we goin’ to get hurt?”

  “Well sir, that Chinaman that you just insulted is Mr. Wang,” Elmer said. “He’s my friend, and if you three are real nice, I believe I can talk him into not hurting you.”

  “Not hurting us?” another of the three said, then he laughed out loud. “Not hurting us, you say, and him being a Chinaman?”

  All three of the men enjoyed a boisterous laugh.

  “Yes, he is a Chinaman. But he isn’t just any Chinaman, you see. He is what you call a Shaolin priest.”

  “A priest is he? Ha! I ain’t never seen no Chinaman priest, but even if he is a priest, it don’t make no never mind, on account of he ain’t got no business bein’ in here.”

  “He’s comin’ in here to pray for our souls, is he?” one of the others asked, again to the laughter of all three.

  Elmer chuckled. “Truth to tell, I don’t reckon Mr. Wang gives a damn about your souls. A Shaolin priest ain’t that kind of a priest. He’s a special kind of priest who has a special way of fightin’.”

  “Special way o’ fightin’? Tell me ol’ man, what’s so special about his fightin’?”

  “Well you see, it’s this way. If he wanted to, he could come over here, jerk your tongue out of your mouth, and hand it to you before you would even know what happened. I’ve seen men like him kill a bull in full charge, just by standin’ in front of the bull ’n hittin’ ’im between his eyes with the edge of their hand. And you have just insulted such a man.”

  “Is that a fact? Well now, I didn’t know a Chinaman could be insulted. I thought they was too dumb.”

  The conversation was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot. One of the three men called out in alarm and grabbed his hand. The pistol he had just slipped from his holster was laying on the floor

  Everyone in the restaurant looked over at Duff, who was standing and holding a smoking gun in his hand.

  “You shot at me. You just hit my gun, but you could have put a hole in my han
d.”

  “Aye I could have. Ye see, m’ friend was trying to have a nice chat with ye, but ye rather sneakily extracted your pistol from its holster. I’m sure ye would all admit that ’tis a bit difficult to engage in an amicable conversation when one of the participants is holding a gun. Would ye other two gentlemen be for taking your pistols out and dropping them onto the floor? I’d appreciate it very much.”

  “What? Why should we do that?” one of the other two men asked. “We wasn’t the ones that pulled iron, it was Percy that done that.”

  “Ye should do it so my friend can continue his conversation with you,” Duff answered. “And ye should also do it because I asked you, and because I’ll put a bullet in each of your kneecaps if you don’t. By the way, I should tell you that my pistol is a British Enfield revolver, which fires a .47 caliber round—large enough that it will totally destroy a kneecap. In the hands of a skilled shootist it can be quite an effective weapon. At the risk of being a labeled a braggart, I feel that I should inform you that I am quite a good marksman. Should it come to that, ’tis quite likely that you all will never walk again.”

  The cowboy who’d been shot at, the one named Percy said, “Dave, Neil, if you two got any sense, you’ll do like he says. He’s a real good shot. I mean, you seen how he shot that pistol right out of my hand.”

  “All right, all right. We’ll do it,” one of the men said as he reached for the gun in his holster.

  “Would ye be a good couple of lads and stand up so that I can tell for sure you’ll nae be for trying to trick me?”

  Dave and Neil stood up, then dropped their guns.

  “Now, Mr. Gleason, please do continue with your conversation,” Duff invited.

  During the conversation and the shooting, Wang had advanced no more than ten feet into the dining room and he remained there in the middle of the floor as if waiting to see how the confrontation between Elmer and the three cowboys was going to develop.