Massacre of Eagles

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.”