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Authors: Alex Simmons

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BOOK: Buffalo Bill Wanted!
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Suddenly, he heard Jennie let out a small, sharp cry. Tucking the magazine inside his shirt, he snatched up the pitchfork and ran into the stable. He found Jennie in a stall, backing away from a rough-looking man in a checked shirt as he demanded, “What are you doing here?”
Dooley immediately recognized Zeke Black, the roustabout who had caught them sneaking into the show. “Get away from her!” he cried, charging forward.
Zeke batted the prongs away from his body, then grabbed the pole. Dooley tried to hold on in spite of being flung about. The pitchfork twisted out of his hands as he stumbled back into Jennie. Zeke had spun him around. Now they were both trapped in the stall. The big man loomed over them, pitchfork in hand. “What are
both
of you brats doing back here?”
“We're just looking around,” Jennie tried to explain. “We've never seen anything like this before—”
“Seems you're always looking around and asking questions,” Zeke growled. “Funny thing happens to nosy people. They usually get their noses broken.”
Before Zeke could take another step, a voice rang out behind him.
“There they are!”
Dooley let out a long breath when Wiggins and Owens walked up to the stall. It was even better to see Colonel Cody and Chief Tall-Like-Oak behind them.
“We keep running into you,” Wiggins said, stepping between Jennie and Zeke. “Funny, ain't it?”
“Is there a problem here, Zeke?” Cody asked his employee.
“Every time I turn around, I catch these kids sneaking round the place,” Zeke growled.
“They're running errands for me now, so they can come and go as they please,” Colonel Cody said.
Zeke stared hard at Wiggins. “Odd how bad things seem to happen when they're around—that copper nearly gets killed, Silent Eagle gets arrested, then that man Pryke—”
“We didn't do none of those things,” Dooley shouted. “In fact, we're trying—”
“To stay out of trouble,” Wiggins interrupted. “That's why we're running errands and things for folks like Colonel Cody here.” He gave Dooley a sharp look.
Dooley stared for a moment, then realized why Wiggins had cut him off. It wouldn't do for too many people to know what they were up to.
“It's all right, Zeke,” Cody told the cowboy. “I know we're all a little jumpy right now, but these kids are fine. Why don't you go make sure our people are on the job? I think keeping busy is the best thing for us all.”
“Sure,” Zeke said dryly. He turned and walked off toward the main arena.
Owens shuddered as the cowhand walked away. “He really doesn't like us,” he told the others.
“Many Western folk are hard men,” Cody explained. “Have to be to live out in the wilderness. If you have no family and you're far from home, well . . .”
Dooley snorted in Zeke's direction. “You're far from America, but you're not grumpy.”
Cody smiled. “Zeke's even farther from his home,” he said. “He's from a part of Canada, way up north.”
“Did you give Colonel Cody and Chief Tall-Like -Oak the messages from Silent Eagle?” Jennie asked.
“Yes, little missy.” Cody spoke up. “We're both glad that he's safe . . . for now.” He shook his head. “Though we're not happy that you children are in the middle of this. I've seen lynch mobs before. They're an ugly sight.”
“The face of hate is always ugly,” the chief added glumly.
“I'd like to ask something,” Jennie said. “Why don't Silent Eagle and Mr. Salsbury get along?”
Buffalo Bill shook his head. “It was something that happened on the voyage over. Remember, none of the Indians had ever been on the ocean. The water was rough, and when they got seasick—”
Chief Tall-Like-Oak groaned at the memory. “We began singing our death songs.”
“Nate saved the day,” Cody went on. “Before being a manager, he was an actor. He recited pieces, sang, and danced—most of the Indians loved him for cheering them up.”
The chief frowned. “But to Silent Eagle, Salsbury seemed to have two faces. He would not trust him.”
“And when Nate saw how Silent Eagle was treating him, well, things just went downhill.”
“I see,” Jennie said.
Wiggins glanced around to see if anyone was nearby. “Colonel Cody will help us hide Silent Eagle,” he told Jennie and Dooley quietly.
“Just until I can get some friends here to guarantee his safety when he turns himself in,” Cody explained.
“He won't do that,” Owens told the colonel. “He said he'd rather die than rot in jail.”
“And Dartmoor Prison is a far cry from the open—whatdeyecallit—range,” Dooley added.
“It's not safe for him on the run.” Cody's voice was firm. “It's not safe for you either. Especially since you've told me that Sherlock Holmes is away.”
“We have to help Silent Eagle prove his innocence, ” Wiggins insisted. “We promised.”
He glanced around at the faces of his friends. Despite their differences, each one held the same determined expression.
Buffalo Bill must have seen their commitment too. “You've got it in your minds to do this no matter what I say, don't you?”
Before any of them could answer, Chief Tall-Like -Oak placed a hand on Owens's shoulder. “They gave their word,” he said. “That still means much to them.”
Cody bowed his head for a moment. “Very well,” he said finally. “But it means that I'm going to be more involved in this too. Just as soon as I get some of the local bigwigs to take a real look at this case.”
The Raven Leaguers cheered in unison.
“There's one way you can help right now,” Wiggins told the frontiersman. “In the hospital, Constable Turnbuckle mumbled something about smuggling.”
Cody frowned. “Smuggling what?”
“He didn't say,” Jennie replied.
“Could it be buffalos?” Owens suggested.
Cody removed his Stetson and scratched his head. “Not likely,” he said. “Most everyone in the show is a Westerner, born or raised. They might know about cattle rustling—”
“Well, that's an animal,” Owens pointed out.
“Yes,” Cody agreed, “but rustling cattle is different from smuggling. Some rustlers might run them across the border into Mexico—but they wouldn't have the contacts to move things across the Atlantic Ocean.”
“Oh,” Dooley muttered.
“Smugglers would need connections with ships' captains and crews, merchants in ports, maybe dockworkers, ” Cody said. “Besides, there are no laws saying you can't move buffalo from place to place, so there's no profit in doing it secretly, if you see what I mean.”
“Mr. Holmes would have thought of that,” Wiggins mumbled. “Why didn't I?”
“You're doing fine,” Cody told Wiggins. “You all are. Now the chief and I have to go meet with some folks.” Cody reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of coins, and gave them to Wiggins. “Please buy Silent Eagle whatever he needs and let me know if you need more.”
“All right, Colonel Cody,” Wiggins called out as the frontiersman and Tall-Like-Oak walked away. “And we'll meet back with you tomorrow.” He stared after the pair of Westerners. “I can't help feeling that we just heard something—”
“Well, what he said didn't help us with the smuggling clue,” Dooley complained.
Wiggins snapped his fingers. “Maybe it did,” he said. “Maybe it did.”
Chapter 11
THE RAVEN LEAGUE WAS JUST LEAVING THE performers' encampment when Wiggins spotted a familiar figure approaching them from the opposite end of the bridge. Inspector Desmond wasn't his usual elegant self. The detective's suit was wrinkled and saggy at the knees, he hadn't shaved, and Wiggins spotted telltale bags under the man's eyes. Desmond had obviously been up all night searching for Silent Eagle. Lack of sleep and lack of success hadn't improved his temper.
“What are you lot doing here?” he demanded when he saw them. “Snooping, were you? Has Sherlock Holmes decided to push his long nose into this business?”
Wiggins was about to respond just as sharply when he bit back his words.
It won't help things to get this copper angry at us,
he thought. So how could he answer? “Maybe we are,” he said. “Or maybe we're earning a few bob running errands for Colonel Cody.” He fumbled in his pocket. “See? He wrote up a special pass for us and all.”
Desmond examined the card Wiggins held out, glared at Wiggins and the others, and finally shook his head and smiled. “I suppose I should admire such an industrious attitude—whoever you may be working for.”
Several uniformed constables had drifted over, looking to their superior for a clue on how to treat the youngsters. Inspector Desmond waved them away. “Off with you now,” he said to Wiggins and the Raven Leaguers. “I have some business with Colonel Cody myself.”
Wiggins and the others didn't need a second invitation. Walking away from the exhibition grounds, Wiggins took a moment to look back, just to make sure Inspector Desmond wasn't peering after them. He wasn't, so Wiggins led the way to the Underground station, deciding to spend some of Colonel Cody's money on a train ride home.
They wound up with a compartment all to themselves. Wiggins slumped in his seat. “This is getting as complicated as our last case.”
Owens nodded. “And this time, we don't have Sherlock Holmes to help us sort things out.”
Dooley ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “I don't know how he can remember everything to do with a mystery.”
“I know what you mean,” Wiggins admitted. “All the time we were talking with Buffalo Bill, I kept worrying that I had forgotten things I ought to be asking about.”
“Maybe Sherlock Holmes can hold everything in his head, but we don't have to.” Jennie drew her notebook and pencil from a pocket. “Let's write down everything we know, then we can come up with a list of things we don't know.”
She licked the pencil lead and got ready to write.
Wiggins felt his lips twist into a wry grin. Jennie didn't have to say anything, but she might as well have taken that pencil and underlined how important it was for all of them to read and write.
“We know that the copper was nearly beaten to death and then scalped,” Dooley began.
“But we don't know what he was doing around the stables that night,” Owens pointed out. “He wasn't on duty. In fact, he wasn't even in uniform.”
“And he wasn't actually shot. The newspapers got that wrong. Buffalo Bill's pistol was loaded with blanks. Turnbuckle wound up with powder burns and was beaten.” Wiggins frowned. “I don't think it's likely he just happened to walk past the stables and spot a burglar coming out with Cody's gun.”
“If it wasn't a burglar, then the attacker had to be connected with the show,” Jennie said. “Perhaps there's another connection. Chief Tall-Like-Oak mentioned that Constable Turnbuckle was the one who stood up to that buffalo when it went wild.”
“We know.” Owens nodded. “Turnbuckle passed a remark that Silent Eagle didn't understand—and didn't like.”
“But there were two other men involved in all that,” Dooley said. “What about that big bloke who keeps chasing us? He was one.”
“Zeke Black.” Wiggins remembered the name. “He sure doesn't like us nosing around.”
“And then there was the funny-looking fellow with no chin,” Owens chimed in.
“Does he work for Buffalo Bill's Wild West?” Jennie asked. “They've been here almost four months. But Silent Eagle said that fellow came from the ship that just arrived from America—the one that brought the buffalo. Zeke Black brought him.”
“All right, so we have two men connected to the constable.” Owens rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Where do we go from here?”
“Let's just suppose that Zeke Black is the attacker,” Wiggins said. “Working backstage, it would have been easy enough for him to get hold of Buffalo Bill's gun. He could have been around the stables that evening.”
Wiggins leaned back in his seat. “When Mr. Holmes investigates a crime, he looks for certain things, like the means of committing the crime and how the guilty person had the chance to commit it. We've just gone over those. Another thing Mr. Holmes looks for is the motive.
Why
would Zeke Black attack and scalp a copper?”
“Why would the chinless bloke do it?” Dooley asked in frustration.
“Scalping would set people looking in the wrong direction,” Jennie replied. “Everyone would blame the attack on an Indian.”
“And there are nearly a hundred of them at the Wild West camp,” Wiggins said.
“But why would Zeke Black go after Mr. Pryke?” Dooley asked.
Wiggins raised a hand. “First things first. Why would Zeke Black use the gun on the copper?”
“A gun with blanks,” Owens added. “He'd know that—he's part of the show.”
Jennie looked up from her scribbling. “When Inspector Desmond tried to speak to Turnbuckle at the hospital, all he managed to say was ‘smuggling' and ‘buffalo.' ”
“ ‘Smuggling,' ” Owens repeated, “and Zeke Black brought the buffalo from a ship that had just come from America.”
“Maybe that ship brought more than buffalos, ” Wiggins muttered.
“Well, we know it brought the chinless man too,” Jennie said. “Perhaps he was the buffalo's minder.”
“That gink didn't know nothing about how to handle the beast.” Dooley's voice was scornful.
BOOK: Buffalo Bill Wanted!
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