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
“
“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
