Read Online Buffalo Bill Wanted! by Alex Simmons - Free Book Online Page A

fighting.
    Snatching the reins from the cabbie, Silent Eagle vaulted onto the horse’s back. It would be hard to tell which was more dumbfounded, Benny or his horse.
    The animal reared, lashing out with his fore-hooves, and the pursuing mob backed up hastily.
    Wiggins was sure Silent Eagle would fall off the rearing horse, but the warrior clung to his mount as if he’d become a part of the beast, turning it around.
    He might make it, Wiggins thought, if he could only get his hands free. . . .
    He glanced over at the police officer who’d been downed at the beginning of the riot. The man still lay unconscious on the cobblestones. Hanging from his belt, Wiggins caught the glitter of keys.
    Bobbing and weaving, Wiggins made his way through the struggling mass of people. He dropped to one knee and tore loose the key ring. Hunched over, he barreled his way to the end of the bridge and some open space.
    With all his might, he flung the keys toward the fleeing Indian.
    Even as he did so, a voice jeered inside his head. Fool, it said. Even if he sees them, what is he going to do? Stop, get down, and pick them up?
    Silent Eagle apparently did see the keys because the horse veered in their direction. However, the Indian didn’t rein in his galloping mount. Instead he swung around, clinging with one leg as he stretched to the pavement.
    Wiggins shuddered, certain the bareback rider would tumble to the hard stones and break his neck. But an instant later, Silent Eagle pulled himself upright, keys held victoriously aloft in his upraised hands.
    Seconds later, both Indian and cab horse left the fighting and screaming behind, clattering out of sight.

Chapter 8
    WIGGINS DIDN’T SEE WHAT HAPPENED NEXT. SOMEONE tripped over him, and they both wound up on the pavement. All he heard were cries of anger and pain, pierced with the shrill tweets of police whistles as officers called for more assistance.
    By the time Wiggins regained his feet, Silent Eagle was long gone. Members of the angry mob were chasing him on foot, though they had no chance of catching him.
    Wiggins watched as several constables struggled to hold back a knot of cowboys and Indians. Some were cheering Silent Eagle’s escape, while others were yelling back at members of the thinning mob. Another detachment of constables rushed to subdue that bunch.
    Through all the chaos, Wiggins spotted Inspector Desmond shouting orders to some of the policemen. The Scotland Yard detective was covered in grime. His hair was mussed, and his tie had been half torn loose.
    Desmond’s expression was hard as he mopped his face with a handkerchief. He glanced with distaste at the stains on the linen and crumpled it into his pocket. Then he noticed Wiggins.
    â€œWere you part of this madness?” Desmond asked, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
    â€œCourse not,” Wiggins protested. “I was trying to get away when that mob cut me off.”
    â€œPerhaps that’s true,” the inspector replied slowly. “But I find it strange how you are always around when something happens.”
    Wiggins was about to reply when he saw Jennie appear from the dispersing crowd and push past a constable. The police were gaining control of the mob. They had arrested some, but most of the people were being told to go home or simply leave the area.
    â€œWiggins!” Jennie called out. “Are you all right?”
    Wiggins nodded. “Yes. Where are Owens and Dooley?”
    Jennie was about to answer him when she noticed Inspector Desmond glaring at them. “I don’t know,” she replied. “We all got jostled apart.”
    Desmond leaned forward. “Why are any of you here at all?”
    â€œWe heard about the attack on Mr. Pryke and about the Indian quill they found,” Wiggins explained. “We thought we could help. Maybe find out who’s really doing all of this.”
    â€œWe even talked to Colonel Cody about his missing