CHAPTER THREE
Chicago, Illinois
When Falcon and Cody stepped down from
the train in Chicago they were met by a young army lieutenant,
accompanied by two enlisted men. Stepping up to Cody, the
lieutenant saluted.
“Colonel Cody, I am Lieutenant Vaughan.
If you will come with me, sir, I have a carriage waiting that will
take you to your meeting with General Miles.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant, that is most
kind of you,” Cody said. “This is Falcon MacCallister. I have
brought him with me to meet with the general.”
“Sir, I don’t mean to be particular,
but General Miles said nothing about anyone named Mr. MacCallister.
I was told to meet you and provide you with transportation to the
general’s headquarters.”
“I assume, Lieutenant, that the
carriage you have brought is large enough to accommodate all of
us?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I suggest that you let me handle
the general.”
“Very good sir,” Lieutenant Vaughan
replied. “If you will give these two privates your claim tickets,
they will secure your luggage.”
“Thank you,” Cody said as he and Falcon
turned over their claim checks.
Lieutenant Vaughan led Falcon and Cody
through the crowded station, then out to the front where an army
carriage and an army buckboard stood. The carriage was being driven
by an army sergeant, who stepped down to salute as the three men
approached.
“If you gentlemen wish to proceed, we
will go on ahead,” the lieutenant said. “Cooper and Dagan will come
along behind us in the buckboard with your luggage.”
“That’ll be fine, Lieutenant,” Cody
said, as he and Falcon got into the carriage. They rode on the back
seat facing forward, while the lieutenant rode in the front seat
facing to the rear. The driver climbed onto his seat, snapped his
whip, and they started forward. The team moved out at a trot,
pulling the carriage at a rapid pace, but the carriage had good
springs, so the ride was smooth and pleasant.
General Miles stood when Lieutenant
Vaughan brought the two men into his office. A tall, slender man,
General Miles looked very much at ease in the uniform of an army
general, though, unlike most of the other generals in the army,
Miles was not a graduate of West Point. In fact, he had been a
clerk in a crockery factory when the Civil War began and he had
volunteered his services as a private. He was commissioned a second
lieutenant shortly after he enlisted, and rose quickly through the
ranks, attaining the brevet rank of Major General at the very young
age of twenty-six. After the war he was appointed colonel and given
command of the Fifth Cavalry. It was there that he met Buffalo Bill
Cody, though then Cody was not known as Buffalo Bill and there was
no Wild West Exhibition. Then it was simply William Cody, army
scout. Now Cody was a world famous show business personality, and
Nelson Miles was commandant of the Department of the Missouri,
again wearing the rank and uniform of a Major General.
“Colonel Cody, it was good of you to
come,” Miles said. “Please, come over to the nest and have a
seat.”
The “nest” General Miles was referring
to was a collection of sofas and chairs in the corner of his
commodious office. It was here that he held meetings with his
subordinates when he wanted to make them feel comfortable. He was
well known among his officers as a no-nonsense general who never
invited anyone to the nest on routine matters—nor did he if they
had done something to evoke his displeasure.
“General, I hope you don’t mind,” Cody
said, “but as you can see, I have brought someone with
me.”
“Falcon MacCallister,” General Miles
said, extending his hand for a hearty handshake. “I didn’t expect
to see you here. It’s been a long time.”
“That it has, General,” Falcon said. “I
hope you don’t mind that I came with Cody.”
“Mind? No, of course I don’t mind. But
tell me, are you a member of the Buffalo Bill Wild West Exhibition
now?”
“He sure is,” Cody said, speaking up
quickly. “You should have seen him the other day. He raced after a
runaway bull and leaped from the saddle to grab the critter by its
horns and bring him down. And, I might add, he did this just in the
nick of time, because the creature was hell-bent to dash into the
audience to work its mayhem.”
“Isn’t that a dangerous act to be
putting into your show?” General Miles asked, concerned about what
Cody had just told him. Then he smiled. “Or is that just part of
your spiel?”
“It’s true, all right,” Falcon said.
“But believe me, it wasn’t a part of the act. The bull just got
away.”
General Miles laughed. “Buffalo Bill
Cody,” he said. “P.T. Barnum has nothing on Buffalo Bill. Our
friend, here, is, without doubt the greatest self-promoter on
earth.”
“Tell me, General, what is the
emergency? Why did you send for me?” Cody asked.
“I am sure you have heard of the recent
disturbances coming from some of our Western Territories,” General
Miles said. “There was an incident where a farmer named Kennedy was
killed, along with practically his entire family. They were
massacred by Indians. A stagecoach was attacked and two whites were
killed. There have been some prospectors killed, and a freight
wagon train was attacked.”
“I have heard of some of it, yes,” Cody
said. “The newspapers have carried the reports, though I am always
of the belief that the newspapers tend to exaggerate the events to
make a better story.”
“Believe me, there is no exaggeration,
these events have occurred. And now we have been getting some
disturbing reports from some of the more friendly Indians
suggesting that these may not be isolated events, that there may be
something afoot among the Sioux. We are also hearing that Sitting
Bull himself may be behind it. I know he was with your show for a
while.”
“Yes, he was, but he was only with us
for about four months,” Cody replied. “I paid him fifty dollars a
week to ride around the ring one time. He was quite a box office
attraction, and he wound up making even more money by selling his
autograph.”
“Is it true that he yelled curses at
the audience in Lakota?” General Miles asked.
Cody laughed. “Well, since he was the
only member of the show who could speak the language, that is
something that only Sitting Bull knows.”
“Be that as it may, the task I have for
you is a simple one, if you will agree to take it. I want you to go
to Standing Rock to visit Sitting Bull. Well, it isn’t Standing
Rock anymore. Now it is Fort Yates, but most people still call it
Standing Rock. Anyway, I want you to speak to him while you are
there and determine, if you can, if there is another Indian
uprising in the making. And if there is, I want you to find out if
he is a part of it. Though I have no doubt but that he will say he
isn’t.”
“I’m sure he will say that he isn’t a
part of it, General, and he will be telling the truth,” Cody said.
“I do not believe for one moment that he is instigating another
Indian uprising.”
“General, are you talking about
Wagi Wanagi?” Falcon asked.
“Wagi
Wanagi?”
“Spirit Talking.”
“Yes, Spirit Talking, that’s it,”
General Miles said. “I’m told it has all the Indians in a
frenzy.”
“The Indian behind Spirit Talking is
Mean to His Horses, not Sitting Bull,” Falcon said.
“Falcon is right, General. I think you
are making a mistake,” Cody said. “I am absolutely positive that
Sitting Bull has nothing to do with this.”
General Miles stroked his moustache as
he looked at Cody and Falcon. “Have I chosen the wrong man for the
job, Colonel Cody? Have you become so enamored of him that you will
believe anything he tells you?”
“General, if you will allow me, I have
a suggestion,” Falcon said.
“By all means, Falcon, if you have any
ideas please share them with me. This is too important to let
something pass without exploring every avenue.”
“With your permission I will accompany
Colonel Cody,” Falcon said. “Although I have no doubt but that the
colonel is capable of determining whether or not Sitting Bull will
be telling the truth—it is also possible that the two of us will
sharpen the perception.”
General Miles nodded. “Yes, an
excellent idea, Colonel MacCallister.”
“Colonel MacCallister?” Falcon
replied.
“Bill Cody is already a colonel in the
Army Scouts, and, for the duration of this assignment, I am
appointing you as well. Both of you will be paid accordingly,
though,” he looked at Cody and chuckled, “as much money as you make
with your Wild West Exhibition, I’m afraid any army pay you draw
would be an insult.”
“I will serve for the honor of service,
General, not for the money,” Cody said. “And one can never be
insulted by honor.”
“Indeed, one cannot,” General Miles
said. “Falcon, if you will raise your right hand, I will administer
the oath of your service.”
Raising his right hand, Falcon took the
oath, repeating it word-for-word after General Miles.
“I, Falcon MacCallister, do solemnly
swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United
States against all enemies, foreign or domestic; that I will bear
true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation
freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and
that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office
on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”
“Gentlemen, as of now you are both on
the payroll of the United States Army. And I hereby grant you
authority to act upon your own and to use, when necessary, the
power of your rank to thoroughly investigate the matter pertaining
to Indian unrest and possible uprising.”
Both Falcon and Cody saluted General
Miles and, as they left, Lieutenant Vaughan saluted them. “Sirs, I
have made reservations for the two of you at the Palmer Hotel,” he
said. He smiled. “And I put it on the army’s tab.”
“You are a good man, Lieutenant,”
Falcon said.
When they reached the Palmer Hotel they
were surprised to see Prentiss Ingraham waiting for them in the
lobby.
“Ingraham!” Cody said. “What a
surprise! And what a coincidence seeing you here in the same
hotel!”
“Isn’t it, though?” Ingraham
said.
“Why do I have a feeling it is not a
coincidence?” Falcon asked.
“Perhaps because you are an astute
man,” Ingraham replied.
“So, it isn’t a coincidence?” Cody
asked.
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?” Falcon
challenged.
“All right, it isn’t at all a
coincidence,” Ingraham admitted.
“Then my question is, how did you know
we would be staying here at the Palmer Hotel?” Cody
asked.
“That part was easy. The Palmer is the
best hotel in Chicago, and knowing you as I do, I knew that you
would stay in no less a place.”
Cody laughed. “You guessed right, but
it wasn’t I who made the choice. The hotel was chosen by the
army.”
“When you say that the army chose the
hotel, would you be talking about Lieutenant Vaughan?” Ingraham
asked.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“I have a confession to make,” Ingraham
said. “I went to the Headquarters of the Department of the
Missouri, and there met the young officer who bears the
responsibility of looking out for you. I suggested that you would
be satisfied with no less an accommodation than the Palmer, and he
agreed. So you have me to thank for these superb
lodgings.”
“I do thank you,” Cody
said.
“The one unanswered question now is,
why are you here?” Falcon asked.
“I am here to research my next
book.”
“You’re going to write a novel about
Chicago?” Cody asked.
“No,” Falcon said. “He isn’t writing
about Chicago. He is writing about you.”
“You’re too smart for me, Falcon,”
Ingraham said. “Except it isn’t going to be a novel. I will be
writing a nonfiction tome.”
“Evidently, he is too smart for me as
well,” Cody said. “Because I don’t have any idea what you are
talking about.”
“My dear boy,” Ingraham said. “Whatever
mission General Miles has assigned you will be the subject of my
book. I am going with you.”
“No, you aren’t,” Cody
said.
“Oh, I’m afraid you can’t prevent it,”
Ingraham said.
“We’ll see about that. I’m going to
General Miles tomorrow.”
Ingraham chuckled. “I’m afraid that
won’t do you any good.”
“What do you mean it won’t do me any
good? If General Miles says you can’t go with us, you can’t go with
us.”
“Not even General Miles can prevent me
from going with you,” Ingraham said.
“What makes you say such a
thing?”
“Cody, I believe Mr. Ingraham is
holding an ace up his sleeve,” Falcon said.
“An ace up his sleeve?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Falcon said.
“What is it, Ingraham? What are you not telling us?”
“On the night I learned that Buffalo
Bill was to come here on a mission for General Miles, I sent a
telegram to Washington, D.C., where I have some, shall we say,
friends in high places? I now have authority to accompany him from
no less a dignitary than General Sherman himself, Commanding
General of the United States Army.”
“Do you know that Colonel MacCallister
is going with me?” Cody asked.
A broad smile spread across Ingraham’s
face. “No! Really? Why, that is wonderful!”
“What is so wonderful about it?” Falcon
asked.
“Well, think about it, Colonel
MacCallister. I have written novels about Buffalo Bill, and I have
written novels about Falcon MacCallister. Now, I will be able to
write a nonfiction book that will include both of
you.”