Buffalo Bill Wanted! by Alex Simmons

newspapers. Our publicity man is having nightmares as it is.”
    Colonel Cody put a steadying hand on Salsbury’s shoulder. “Nate’s a little wound up right now,” he said. “But I say whoever attacked and scalped that policeman needs to be caught and taught a lesson.”
    â€œBut Colonel—”
    â€œBut nothing, Nate,” Cody interrupted. “My reputation means a lot to me, but the lives of the people in the show mean more. I think we can use any help we can get. So if Mr. Holmes can take the case, I’d be glad of it.”
    â€œThen we’ll speak to him for you,” Wiggins said, proud to be able to make the offer.
    â€œWell, thank you kindly,” Colonel Cody replied. “Since you’re working for me, seems only fair that you should be pulling a salary.”
    The frontiersman reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. “I’m still not all that certain of how your money works, but this should be enough to start.”
    Wiggins and the others stared in wide-eyed amazement as Colonel Cody poured crowns, shillings, and pence into Wiggins’s hands.
    â€œThat’s almost two pounds there,” Dooley gasped.
    Cody took out a card and scribbled on it. “This will get you into the show grounds whenever you need to bring any messages.” He grinned. “What’s the matter? Not enough?”
    â€œOh, more than enough,” Wiggins said enthusiastically. “And don’t worry, we do this all the time. Getting Mr. Holmes to help will be no problem at all.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, he’s not home?” Owens exclaimed in dismay.
    The young girl in the ill-fitting maid’s uniform stood in the doorway of 221B Baker Street like a grenadier guard at Buckingham Palace. “I mean,” she replied, “that he and Dr. Watson ain’t here,” she said, sounding annoyed. “They’re away on business.”
    Dooley stepped forward, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. “You remember me, don’t you?” he asked her. “You helped me, uh, us the last time we were here.”
    The girl looked around nervously. “I remember,” she replied. “But Mrs. Hudson could be back at any minute, and I ain’t supposed to let anyone—”
    â€œCould you at least tell us when Mr. Holmes will be back?” Dooley asked her.
    â€œNot really.” The girl continued to glance up and down the street. “They left this morning for King’s Cross Station, but Mr. Holmes said they was flyin’.”
    â€œFlyin’?” Owens repeated blankly.
    â€œDid they take anything?” Wiggins asked.
    â€œEach of ’em had a Gladstone bag. Now I have to go!” With that, the young maid quickly shut the door.
    â€œHow can anyone—” Jennie began.
    Wiggins smiled at the look on her face. “They ain’t flying ,” he explained. “They’re taking the Flying Scots-man. It’s a train that leaves from King’s Cross, going all the way up to Edinburgh.”
    â€œScotland—and bags,” Owens moaned. “They could be gone for days.”
    Dooley removed his cap and scratched his fiery red hair. “Just grand, that is. What do we do now?”
    Wiggins tried to recall how Mr. Holmes had used the Irregulars. What would he have assigned them to do now? The image of Nat Blount flashed before his eyes, waving a torch at Pryke’s rally. Suddenly, Wiggins had a plan.
    â€œFollow me.” Wiggins led the group down Baker Street, heading for the Underground station.
    â€œSomeone tries to frame Colonel Cody,” Wiggins began slowly as the idea took shape. “And right away, Pryke starts making all Americans look bad. Maybe those things are connected.”
    â€œYou mean because Colonel Cody is an American, Mr. Pryke might have tried to frame him?” Jennie asked.
    â€œWhy not?” Wiggins