Gunsmoke & Grit: 'Fort Misery' by William W. Johnstone and J.A. Johnstone

I pose this question to any adventurers of Western fiction who might stumble across this post: which authors do you suspect are channeling their talents into the novels of William W. Johnstone and J.A. Johnstone? It feels improbable that a solitary writer could craft such a vast array of stories each year. With the staggering diversity of narrative styles at play, there must be a cadre of ghostwriters lurking in the shadows—unless my skepticism is unfounded, and perhaps there's just one extremely prolific author at work.

This brings us to today’s pick from the Gunsmoke & Grit selection: Fort Misery, attributed to the Johnstone duo and unleashed upon us by Pinnacle in 2023. Now, don’t be fooled into thinking this is your run-of-the-mill Wild West saga; I'd classify it as a slice of historical fiction teetering on the edge of ferment. It opens with a historical note but skips the author's note, recounting the legend of a log house erected by the army in Prescott in 1865. This dwelling was meant for Governor John N. Goodwin in the newly minted Arizona Territory. Not quite a fort, its infamous second resident, Judge Howard—a real piece of work—exercised a ruthless version of justice, which eventually earned the place its mocking moniker, Fort Misery. Tales swirl that the house was later transformed into a boardinghouse, run by a woman known only as the Virgin Mary. Supposedly, due to her relentless charity, she served up culinary creations so woeful that they could challenge the bravest of appetites. If she ever existed, her true name was Mary Brown—a ghost of a kitchen long forgotten.

The plot weaves around Captain Peter Joseph Kellerman, once a rising star in the military pantheon. He was a man forged in battle, but now he’s grappling with a different fight—an unyielding battle with a whiskey bottle that never seems to empty. Stationed at Fort Benjamin Grierson, a hellhole in the arid Mohawk Valley, deep within the unforgiving womb of the Yuma Desert, his soldiers are anything but exemplary. They’re a ragtag band of killers, thieves, and the condemned—those who’d rather wear the tarnished blue of the Union than face the gallows.

Enter Santiago Lozado, the most infamous bandit on either side of the border, hell-bent on exacting revenge against Kellerman for the death of his son. He’s rallied a motley crew of ruthless Apache and Comancheros, eager to bathe the fort in blood. But as fate would have it, they’re about to meet a wild bunch of desperate men—individuals who have crossed moral lines and are ready to fight tooth and nail for survival.

Fort Misery breathes a different air compared to the usual fare served up by the Johnstone ghostwriting assembly line. It boasts an ensemble cast and a narrative that doesn’t solely cling to one protagonist, even though Captain Kellerman monopolizes a decent chunk of the spotlight. As for Lozado, he comes off like the archetypical spaghetti western villain, drenched in melodrama and armed with an endless supply of henchmen, creating chaos at every turn. At times, the prose felt like a raucous homage to Zane Grey or Louis L'Amour, only with a flourish of foul language and a disturbing level of violence, often directed toward female characters.

The so-called "good guys" are no polished knights with shining armor; they're rough around the edges, brimming with their own demons. Many are former criminals, walking the line between villainy and heroism, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the vicious Lozado and his equally disdainful crew.

Overall, Fort Misery is a frenetic, blood-soaked ride through the unforgiving landscape of the Wild West that’ll leave you breathless. It's a gritty and thrilling read that I absolutely devoured—so much so that I’m already gearing up to venture into the sequel, These Men Chose Hell, in next week’s post. Buckle up; it promises to deliver as well! ╌★★★★★

〜B.J. Burgess