Chapter One Dreams And Nightmares

 

 

 

 

Warrior Song

by

Robert F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Warrior Song

Copyright 2015 by Robert F. Clifton

all rights reserved. No part of this book may be

reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any

means without written permission from the author

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dedicated to the Memory

Of

Albert and Edith Aspenberg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The reader is advised that this book is

a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons, places and/or events is purely coincidental......R. F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He heard again the sounds of pounding horse hoofs as they charged into the village. Then came the rifle and pistol shots as women screamed and cried. Old men and women came out of their lodges that had been erected near the Washita River and gazed upon on coming, blue uniformed, mounted troops and as they did they began to sing their death songs. A few warriors attempted to protect the fleeing women and children but were cut down by a volley of rifle fire and as his mother carried him to safety and placed him deep in the high bushes her heard her voice, telling him to be still and silent.

From his hidden place he saw her stand then stagger and fall as a bullet struck her. Then a man appeared, a man with bright red hair and a red beard and the Cheyenne boy, named

Avanaco (Lean Bear) watched the red headed officer lift the scalp of his mother.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table Of Contents

 

Chapter One......Dreams and Nightmares

Chapter Two......Assignment, New York

Chapter Three...Carlisle

Chapter Four.... The Waldorf-Astoria

Chapter Five..... Malfeasance-Misfeasance

Chapter Six....... Sixty Five Acres

Chapter Seven... Drum Beats

Chapter Eight.... Carlise Barracks

Chapter Nine..... For The Record

Chapter Ten...... Command Decision

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

Dreams and Nightmares

 

The sleeping boy the white teachers called Charles Lean Bear tossed and thrashed in his bed. His buttocks were still red and sore from the switch that was used to discipline him because he still spoke the Cheyenne language instead of English demanded by the teachers. The pain he was experiencing in his fitful sleep brought again the dreams and nightmares that began to reoccur night after night since his arrival at the Indian School in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. The good dreams were of the days with his mother Nandita, days when she took his hand in hers and walked with him along the streams and river beds teaching him things, things that he needed to know in order to survive in the world. Most of all she taught him how to hide, to remain still and quiet in times of danger. At her side he learned how to endure pain and not to cry out or produce tears. Here at the Indian School the use of the disciplinary switch failed to induce cries of any kind, forcing the punishment to stop for fear of permanent injury to the boy.

Now, as usual, the pleasant dreams turned into the nightmare. It was always the same. In his sleep he heard again the sounds of a bugle as it came brash and suddenly on the still, morning air. Then came the thundering sounds of hoof beats as the Calvary charged into the village. There was the rifle and revolver shots as women screamed and cried. Old men and women came out of their lodges that has been erected near the Washita River and gazed upon the on coming, blue, uniformed, mounted troops and as they did they sang their death songs. The few warriors that were in the village attempted to protect the fleeing women and children, but were cut down by a volley of rifle fire. When his mother carried him to safety she placed him deep in the high bushes. He heard her voice telling him to remain still and silent.

From his hiding place he saw his mother stand, then stagger and fall as a bullet struck her. Then, a man appeared, a man with red hair and a red beard and the Cheyenne boy named Avanaco (Lean Bear) hiding in the tall weeds watched the red headed officer lift the scalp of his mother.

Avanaco was born in a tipi lodge erected beside a flowing stream in Colorado Territory during the month of September, 1863. His father was a hunter and warrior called, Occunnowhurt (Yellow Wolf) The boy had no actual memory of his father and knew him only from the tales his mother told him such as the warriors bravery and skills as a hunter. Then, there was the tale of the warriors death at a place called, Sand Creek, on November 29, 1864. Nandita told of how his father and other men, young and old fought the white pony soldiers allowing some women and children to escape the killing. It was the first time his mother carried him to safety. The next and last time the bushes weren't high enough to hide both of them and the man with the red hair saw her.

As he lay face down in the high bushes he gazed upon the lifeless body of his mother. The sounds of injured and dying Cheyenne ponies came to him as the soldiers shot and killed the tribes pony herd. When the cries of the horses stopped he heard only the wailing of the women. About an hour later an old woman, called Stays Behind found him. She picked him up and carried him to a wagon. Many of those survivors who were camped on the Washita were sent to the Southern Cheyenne Reservation in Oklahoma and it was there that Avanaco was raised by Stays Behind. The old woman died in 1880 and the Indian Agent decided to send the then seventeen old, orphan boy to the Indian School in Pennsylvania.

At the school he was told to forget the old ways of his people. They cut his long, black hair, styling it short like the white mans. They changed his name from Avanaco to Charles and when he refused to answer to that name he was punished. When he spoke the Algonquian language of his people he was punished again.

Night time, in bed he brought back the sight of the red haired officer in his mind, the man that had murdered his mother. He did that deliberately not wanting to forget what the man looked like. He had to remember because he intended to find him and take his revenge. Then, it came to him one evening that if he was to succeed in finding his mothers killer he needed things. Most of those things were the knowledge of the white man's ways. He would need to know the language, the ways to dress, how to act in cities, what to eat, what to drink and where the pony soldiers were stationed. Just down the road was the place called the Carlisle Barracks. It was a good place to start. From that day on, Charles Lean Bear became an outstanding student.

************

At nine o'clock on the morning of Monday, April 15, 1897 Elsie McCarthy, a maid at the Hotel Waldorf-Astoria in New York City knocked on the door of room 301. “Maid service”, she said loudly as she entered the room. She stopped suddenly noticing that the hotel guest was still in bed. “I'm terrible sorry sir. I didn't mean to disturb you. May I return to do your room in say, about another hour?”, she asked. Hearing no answer, out of curiosity she moved closer to the bed where the man lay on his back. What she saw made her stop and it took several tries before she was able to scream, “MURDER!”

*************

Tuesday May 22, 1897 began as an extremely hot morning as Lieutenant Alan McKenzie carefully opened a small wooden crate containing sticks of dynamite. As an Army engineer he was stationed at Fort Crockett, Galveston, Texas. His assignment was the construction of gun emplacements for the purpose of protecting the harbor. He was familiar with what was known as TNT, but had only used it a few times. His knowledge included the fact that one of the components of dynamite was nitroglycerine which by itself was unstable and dangerous. However, dynamite was considered safe if handled correctly. A problem could present itself if the dynamite sticks sweated the nitroglycerine stored in its makeup. If that occurred it meant that the explosive material was unstable as well as dangerous.

McKenzie carefully removed three sticks, doing so one at a time and as he did he carefully examined each one, finding them dry and safe. He then turned to select a detonator when he looked up to see a young corporal walking towards him. When the soldier stood in front of him he saluted and said, “Lieutenant McKenzie, I have a message for you sir”.

McKenzie returned the salute and took the one sheet of paper unfolded it and read, “Office Of the Commanding General, War Department, Washington, D.C. to: First Lieutenant Alan McKenzie Fort Crockett, Texas.: Sir, on orders of the Commanding General you are to report to his office no later than 09:00, May 25, 1897. The message was dated, Thursday, May 20, 1897. “That's it? Nothing else?”, asked McKenzie turning the paper over and looking for more information.

“No sir. Sorry sir. That's all that I was given to present to you”, said the corporal.

“Very well, thank you”, McKenzie replied.

Due to railroad schedualing it took two days by train to reach Washington, D.C. during that time he traveled in mufti not wishing to draw attention to himself. Arriving in Washington he hired a horse drawn Hansom cab which then took him to Fort Myer, located just outside of the city. There he was assigned a room in the Bachelor Officers Quarters. The next day attired in his dress uniform he presented himself at the Commanding General's Office. There he went from the Sergeant who met him to the lieutenant who escorted him to the office of Colonel Alonzo Willett and after military curtsey McKenzie was asked to take a seat.

Colonel Willett looked at McKenzie and smiled. “I believe that it is about time we relieve you from the apprehension you must be feeling right now. Allow me to inform you why you are here and what your new orders and assignment will be. We and when I say we, I mean General Miller and I, believe that any criminal acts caused by or to any member of the United States Army should be investigated by army personnel. Naturally, one must agree that the nations police forces have jurisdiction over the military. Be that as it may, we and again I mean the General and myself, we dislike the fact that currently the Pinkerton Detective Agency is responsible for the investigation of any crimes committed on or by members of the army. This is where you come in”.

“Me? Why me?”, asked McKenzie.

“Because it has been brought to our attention that you, as a cadet at West Point wrote and submitted a paper on the exact same subject. Am I correct?”, asked Willett.

“Somewhat sir. As I recall I wrote that paper in relation to a private detective investigating a fellow cadet. At that time I strongly felt that the investigation should have been done by the army or at least by those at the Point”.

“And the General and I agree. Nonetheless, currently those type of investigations are being conducted by the Pinkerton Agency and have been since the Civil War. Now, let me get right to the point. On April 15, of this year Major Conrad Parker, a Calvary Officer was found murdered in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City. His death as far as we know was caused by his throat being cut. At the same time his body was mutilated. When I say mutilated I mean that his eyes had been cut out, his scalp removed and both index fingers severed and left on the bed where he was found. Presently, we have heard very little from the New York, City Police. Many of our request for information on the matter seems to fall on deaf ears. At the same time what we do know is that Major Parker was not generally liked by his fellow officers and in some cases despised by the men in the ranks. That my dear fellow not only gives us a motive for his death, but approximately two hundred suspects.”

“Begging your pardon sir, but I still fail to see just what benefit I would be to this matter. I am an engineer, not a criminal investigator”.

“The army has plenty of engineers. What we and again I mean General Miller and myself, what we see is that if you are successful in this assignment hopefully you would become the forerunner of the planned Military Police Division of the United States Army”.

“May I remind you sir that I have no knowledge of criminal investigating. I wouldn't know where to begin.”.

“Early man had no knowledge of military strategy until one day he picked up a club and killed some son of a bitch that wanted to kill him. The rest is history.”

“Where do I begin, what am I expected to do and for how long sir?”, asked McKenzie.

“I would suggest that you start by reviewing Major Parker's record. That should be able to tell you something, such as his background. Where he came from, his assignments, combat roles awards or disciplinary problems. From them you should be able to construct a profile of the victim. Once you've done that, go from there”.

“Yes sir. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Where are you bivouacked?”

“Fort Myer sir”

“Good, you're close by. Since you've mentioned it you should know that you will serve in mufti. We don't want the newspaper reporters to know what we are up to. You will be furnished with a letter of credit and an account to draw from, but spend wisely. Should Congress get wind of what we are doing they will want an accurate account of your expenditures. You will communicate with me and only me. I suggest you use the telegraph. We'll keep it simple, as if you are on a vacation. Wire me if you are making progress by telling me how nice the weather is. Problems? Then the weather is bad. If emergencies arise then of course you will use the telephone like this one here on my desk. Telephone booths are beginning to appear on street corners. You will call me here or at my residence. Send your telegrams there also. However, it is my understanding that telephone conversations can be overheard. Therefore, be discreet and careful in what you say. Here are the two numbers. Keep in mind that I'm in bed by ten at night”.

“Yes sir”.

“Good, now I suggest that you go to the Army Record Division and start there”.

“Yes sir”, said McKenzie as he got up out of the chair.

An hour later the Lieutenant who stood at six feet tall and weighed one hundred and eight pounds sat uncomfortably in a small. hot, anti room. In front of him was the personal army file for one Conrad Parker Major, United States Army. When he opened the folder the first thing he saw was a single sheet of paper and in red letters the word, “DECEASED”. He put that paper aside and began to read: Conrad Parker, born July 22, 1839, Chicago, Illinois. Education, high school graduate. Military record, Dollins Independent Cavalry, Chicago, Illinois, August 1861. Organized at Cairo Illinois with 31st Infantry September 18, 1861. Operations against Fort Henry, Tennessee, February 2-6 1862. Investment and capture of Fort Donelson, Tennessee February 12-16 1862, Battle of Shiloh, April 6-7 1862. Raid on Mobile and Ohio Railroad April 29-May 14, 1862. Assigned to Stewart’s Battalion, Illinois Calvary, Company C July 1862.

After reading further McKenzie found that Parker had requested to remain in the army, was accepted and after assigned to the Seventh Calvary. He fought in the battle of the Washita. However, found suffering from a venereal disease diagnosed as gonorrhea he was admitted and treated at Fort Lincoln from June 5, 1876 to July 15, 1876. “He missed the Battle of the Big Horn because of a case of the clap”,McKenzie thought to himself.

The next page dealt with two Court Marshall's. The first, was the charge of Drunk On Duty, Mistreatment Of Enlisted Personnel. Court convened at Fort Laramie. Monday, March 10, 1879. On the charge of Drunk on Duty, Captain Parker is found guilty. Subject is fined one hundred dollars and confined to headquarters for fifteen days. The second charge, Killing Members of the Sioux Indian Tribe at Wounded Knee found not guilty.

“Interesting. Parker was at the scene of two Indian Massacre’s, first at the Washita against Cheyenne's and then at Wounded Knee against the Sioux,” he thought to himself as he closed the folder. He stood up, left the anti -room and asked a Sergeant for a pencil and paper. Once he had it he returned to the small room and wrote down information that he wanted to retain and the things he needed to know, such as what was the Precinct Number that serviced Fifth Avenue and Thirty Fourth Street? Next he wrote, 1.Start with questioning of house Detective, Waldorf-Astoria.

2. Meet with and question New York Detective or detectives who investigated Parker's murder'.

3. If possible obtain photograph

copies if any were taken.

4. Establish base of operation New York City, possibly boarding house with telephone.

5. Check with bank for established account and credit.

McKenzie folded the sheet of paper and placed it in his right hand trouser pocket. He then left the anti-room and went back to Colonel Willett’s office. There he asked the Colonel if there were anything else he needed to know or any other orders. Told no, he left the building and hired a cab to take him back to Fort Myer. There, he used the telephone and wrote down the information about the train schedules from Washington D.C. to New York City. Still in uniform he went to the Officers Club, ordered a cup of coffee, took a seat in an overstuffed chair and read the local newspaper. He paid particular attention to what to him appeared to be growing tensions between the governments of the United States and Spain. It seemed the American politicians and journalists were calling for action against Spain for the inhumane ways they were treating the citizens of Cuba.

The next morning Lieutenant McKenzie boarded the nine o'clock train for New York City. He took a seat and gazed at the country side, backyards and meadows as the train made it's way north. Arriving in the city he walked through the old, Grand Central Station that would soon be replaced by the newer, larger, grandiose construction that would be in place in the immediate future.

A horse drawn trolley car took him to the street where the Brentwood Boarding House stood. He met with Mrs. Brentwood and was shown and given a room which also provided two meals a day, breakfast and supper. The cost was one dollar a day. McKenzie paid for a week in advance. Settled in his room he unpacked and decided to take a nap until dinner was served.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

Assignment, New York

 

 

Lieutenant Alan McKenzie stepped down from the trolley car then waited for horse drawn carts and Hansom cabs that came in his direction to pass. When it was safe he crossed the street and headed for the entrance to the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Arriving there a doorman tipped his hat as he opened the door and McKenzie walked into the lobby of one of New York City's finest hotels. When he did he headed for the reservation desk where a tall, thin man stood with a smile looking at him. When he stopped in front of the man that was the desk clerk the man said, “Good morning sir. May I be of service? Do you need a bellman to retrieve your luggage perhaps?”

“No, that won't be necessary. I will not require a room. What I do need is to meet with your house detective. Would you be so kind as to send for him or direct me to his location please?”

“Is there a problem sir? If so, perhaps I might be of service”, said the desk clerk.

“No, there is no problem. However, my business with him is of a private nature.”

“I see”, said the desk clerk. He tapped the bell on the desk in front of him and in a loud voice said, “Boy!”

The bell boy responded immediately and was told to go and find Mr. Devin Hogan, the hotel house detective. Ten minutes later McKenzie shook hands with a short, portly man dressed in a brown suit. The suit coat had a frayed collar. A black derby was worn tilted to the left side of his head. “So, what is it that you'll be wanting to talk to me about this morning, may I ask?”, said Hogan.

“I was hoping that we could go somewhere quiet where we can talk privately”, said McKenzie.

“So, its privacy that you'll be wanting. Fine. The hotel saloon is closed for the moment. We can talk there. I can use my influence and we can talk over a pint if you so desire.”

“No, it's too early in the morning for me, but if you would allow me I'd like to buy you a drink”.

“Would you now? Well in that case perhaps a whiskey will help with this dry throat I'll be suffering from. Let's go into the saloon where we can talk”, said Hogan.

After stopping at the bar where the bartender poured whiskey into a shot glass Hogan then said, “We'll take a seat at the table in the back of the room if it pleases you”.

“Fine, after you”, said McKenzie.

Hogan took a seat and carefully put his drink on the table in front of him. “And, now just what is it that you'd be wanting to talk to the likes of me”, he asked.

“I want to know about the murder of a man known as Conrad Parker who was killed in his room here at the hotel', said McKenzie.

Hogan took a sip of whiskey then wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Are you a copper. You don't look like a copper. Could be that you're a news reporter. What are you?”, he asked.

“I'm a commissioned officer of the United States Army. Conrad Parker was an army officer and the army wants to know the facts in the matter. Now, let's start again. I want to know about the murder that occurred here in the hotel”.

“What's to know? Someone slit his throat, removed his scalp and eyes, then cut off one finger from each hand. He was found by one of our maids, the police were summoned and they took over the investigation”.

“Do you have any idea how the murderer gained access to his room?”, asked McKenzie.

“My idea would be by invitation”.

“What is the hotel policy regarding unregistered persons in the hotel?”

“The restaurant is open to the public as is the saloon. Gentlemen are allowed to visit registered guests. Women are not”.

“Then you can say positively that no woman visited Major Parker the night he was murdered”?

“Positively? No, doubtful yes”.

“Do you know what time the maid found the body?”

“Not exactly, but I'd assume it would have been between eight and nine in the morning. That's about the time the house maids begin their duties.”.

“I see. Do you have the name of the maid that found the body?”

“Yes I do. That would be Elsie McCarthy. A fine lass. She has been here at the hotel for almost a year”.

“Would it be possible for me to speak with her sometime in the future?”

“The lass is still a bit shook up from what she has seen. On top of that she was questioned over and over by the coppers. But, since you seem to be a good sport I'll be doing my best to convince her to meet with you. At the same time you mentioning talking, me throat is getting dry again.”

“McKenzie smiled and signaled the bartender. “Bring the bottle', he said loudly.

An hour later Alan McKenzie walked into the Midtown South Police Precinct. The first person he saw was the desk sergeant who sat behind a raised counter type desk top built on a raised floor. The Sergeant got up out of his wooden swivel chair then stood looking down at the lieutenant. “And just what will your business be here today my good man?” asked the Sergeant.

McKenzie saw a tall man who was balding and in an attempt to cover his scalp had resorted to using a thick, pomade and then tried to comb the hair over the bald spot. At the same time he had a fashionable, thick handlebar mustache that covered his upper lip and it moved up and down when he spoke.

“Id like to speak to your commanding officer if its possible”, McKenzie answered.

“And, just what will I tell the Captain what you want to speak to him about?”.

“It's a private matter”.

“A private matter you say. Now, you'll be putting me in a hard place me Buck O. Many people come in here wishing to speak to Captain McIntyre and it's always about a private matter. I'm afraid that you'll have to be more explicit about your business before I bother the likes of the Captain.”

“Very well. My business is an investigation done by the New York Police Department which concerns the United States Army”.

“I see. If you will wait just a minute sir I'll be advising the good Captain that you are here. And, your name sir?”

“Lieutenant Alan McKenzie”.

A few minutes later a uniformed police captain attired in the long uniform coat with brass buttons walked into the room of the desk sergeant. After taking a long look at the man dressed in mufti he said, “Sergeant Haggerty informs me that you want to talk with me”, said the captain.

“Yes sir”.

“About what?”

“The United States Army is interested in an investigation done by the New York Police Department. It's under the impression that the investigation was conducted by men out of this precinct.”

“If you are from the army, why aren't you in uniform?”

“Because the army does not wish to draw the news media into this matter. I'm sure you understand”.

“I do, nonetheless I must ask you for your identification”.

“Of course. Here are my credentials”, said McKenzie removing his billfold from the inside pocket of his suit coat.

Captain McIntyre studied the lieutenants papers and handed them back to him. “I suggest we talk in my office. Come with me”, said the Police Captain.

Once inside the small office McIntyre closed the office door, offered McKenzie a seat and then sat down behind his desk. “Now, what do want to know?”, he asked.

“The army is interested in the homicide of Major Conrad Parker. They want to know how, when, and why it happened. Fortunately or unfortunately they picked me to ask all the questions. So, my first question is who is the detective or detectives that investigated the murder? My second question is when can I meet with them?”

“You come right to the point sir. As I recall Detective Sergeant Patrick O'Malley was in charge of that case. You will find him upstairs in the Detective Bureau. I think it's best that I send for him. You two can talk here in my office. I'm certain that this time of day nosy news reporters are about and they know that O'Malley worked that case. Wait here I'll fetch him”.

“Thank you Captain.” As he waited McKenzie fumbled with his derby, turning it over, examining it for flaws, even knowing that it was practically brand new. It was just something to do as he waited. Then he heard the sounds of approaching footsteps. The office door opened and a tall, clean shaven man entered the room. “Lieutenant McKenzie, I'm Sergeant O'Malley. The Captain has told me that you want to ask me some questions. I brought the case folder with me”.

McKenzie stood and shook hands with the man who was tall and muscular. “Yes, and I'm sure that Captain McIntyre has told you of the army's interest in this case”, he said as he sat down again.

“Yes he has. Now, where do you want to start?”

“Let's start with how Parker was murdered”, McKenzie replied.

“The medical examiner reports that death was caused as a result of a severed jugular vein. In short, someone slit his throat. By the amount of blood found in and on the bed your Major Parker bled to death.”

“I see. What can you tell me about the disfiguring of Parker's body?”.

“Hell, I not only can tell you, I can show you. Here are the photographs taken at the crime scene. Of course the pictures are in black and white, but you can make out the details. Here is a photo of the body the way the maid found him with his eyes cut out”, said O'Malley as he handed a photo to McKenzie.

“I see. Interesting, he's on his back as if there was no struggle”, McKenzie said.

“Correct, there was no struggle. This photo is one taken of

the wound on top of his head, caused when and whoever killed him also took his scalp”.

“I see. It appears to have been a neat job”.

“Yes it was. These next two photographs show the amputation of the index finger on each hand. And this last picture is a close up of the wound in his throat”.

“Excellent Sergeant. Is it possible for me to get a complete set of these photo's?”

Patrick O'Malley smiled and looking around the small office said, “It could be arranged for, let's say a fee of maybe twenty dollars. If you know what I mean”.

“No problem Sergeant. When can I expect them?”

“You can have these. I have another set in my desk”.

McKenzie reached into his pocket and took out a twenty dollar gold piece and handed it to the detective. “Thank you Sergeant. You’ve been a big help. Now, do you have any suspects?”

“My guess is who ever killed your Major was an Indian. Most White men, even Black men don't take scalps when they kill Lieutenant. If I was you, I'd start there”.

Arriving back at the boarding house McKenzie sat using a magnifying glass as he studied the black and white photographs of the crime scene and dead body of Major Conrad Parker. After an hour he still had the feeling that something was not just right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He placed the photographs in his brief case and went down stairs for supper.

When he took his seat at the table he was surprised to see a young woman in the chair next to him. As Mrs Brentwood served she said, “Gentlemen, we have a new guest who will be staying with us. This is Miss Edna Bell who just arrived to take a position as a school teacher here in the city. I hope all of you welcome her.”

McKenzie smiled and offered his hand. “Welcome, Miss Bell. I'm Alan McKenzie. I hope you enjoy your stay here as well as the city”, he said.

“And, may I say welcome also.”, said Harry Finley.

“Yes welcome, my dear, although I am sure that there were be different schedules in relation to the bathroom”, said Harvey Perkins”.

“All in good time Mr. Perkins. All in good time”, said Mrs. Brentwood.

Edna Bell turned and said, “And, just what is your occupation Mr. McKenzie?”

“Yes we would like to know that also. A pity that we haven't seen much of you about”, said Perkins.

“As a matter of fact, I'm an engineer”, said McKenzie.

“Is that a fact? With who may I ask?”, said Finley.

“No one at the moment. I've just arrived and have taken time to take in the city, so to speak. Gainful employment is not an immediate priority at the moment, McKenzie replied.

“Then, can we take it that you are perhaps, financially independent?”, asked Perkins.

“You can take it any way you desire sir. When I'm ready I shall offer my services to any one of the many good engineering firms in the city.”

“I'm sure that you are more than qualified', said Mrs. Brentwood.

Back in his room McKenzie examined the photographs again. He noticed that the, top sheet and blanket on the bed appeared to be soaked in blood. Then, looking at the photographs of the scalp wound and hands he noticed that there was no bleeding, indicating that Parker was dead before his body was mutilated. Knowing that he was no criminologist he was still aware that the mutilation of a body was not just an American Indian trait. Killers have been known to mutilate bodies for any number of reason, chiefly, hate for the deceased.

However, scalping was unusual, except for Native Americans or the old time Indian fighters.

The next morning McKenzie walked to the nearest telegraph office. He was handed a yellow pad and instructed to write his message. With a sharp pencil he wrote: Having nice time. Weather here mild. Would like to hear from you...McKenzie. The lieutenant handed the pad to the telegrapher and said, “Make sure that goes to Alonzo Willett at this address.''

During the second week of July Lieutenant McKenzie waited for some communication from Colonel Willett. None came. As he waited for the arrival of a telegram with instructions or orders he sat day after day on the front porch of the Brentwood Boarding House. Most times to occupy his time he sat reading the New York Times. On a Saturday morning after breakfast he was joined by Miss Edna Bell who walked out on to the porch and said, “Will I be disturbing you if I sat here?”

McKenzie looked up and smiled, then stood. “Not at all. Please make yourself comfortable,” he said.

“Thank you. I'm afraid that I ate too much for breakfast. I must be careful. I have a tendency to gain weight and Mrs. Brentwood is an excellent cook”, said Edna.

“Yes she is. I meant to ask you at breakfast how you are proceeding in your quest for a teachers position here in the city?”

“Thank you for asking. Actually I have an interview on Wednesday of this week. It looks very promising”.

“Excellent. I'm sure you will be selected”.

“And how are you proceeding, Mr. McKenzie? Are you still taking your time in joining an engineering firm here in the city?”

“Yes I am”.

“I get the impression that you are very particular”.

“Not really. I also might have an offer from a company in Washington, D.C. I am waiting to hear from them as we speak.”

“I see. Well I'm sure that you will hear something soon”.

“Yes. Now, how are you making out here in New York?”

“Everything is fine. I like it here with Mrs. Brentwood.

The accommodations are fine. I think I have already mentioned the food. I still have to remove the spittoon from my room”, said Edna with a giggle.

“I take it then that you don't intend to take up chewing tobacco,” McKenzie asked with a grin

“No, I don't think so. Do you chew, Mr. McKenzie”.

“No Mam”.

“I think it's a disgusting habit. We women are constantly on guard as to where we walk for at times the hems of our skirts or dresses accidentally collect the vile residue of someone's spitting”.

“I can see where that would be a problem”.

McKenzie looked up to see a young man ride up out front on a bicycle. The youth was dressed in the uniform of a telegraph company. When the delivery boy walked up on the porch he said, “I have a telegram for a Mr. Alan McKenzie. Could you tell me where I could find him?”

“You just have”, said McKenzie as he stood and took the envelope. After handing the boy a dime he turned to Edna Bell and said, “Excuse me”, then open the message. He read:

“WEATHER HERE BETTER. SUGGEST YOU RETURN HOME. EXPECT YOU IN TWO DAYS. ALONZO”

Edna Bell looked at McKenzie and said, “I hope that it is not bad news”.

McKenzie smiled and said, “Not at all. It seems I will be working in Washington”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

Carlisle

 

Lieutenant Alan McKenzie sat patiently as Colonel Willett examined the photographs that had been present to him. When he was finished he looked up and said, “Gruesome, totally gruesome. However, you obtaining these photographs from the New York City Police Department proved a point. You accomplished what the Pinkerton Agency either couldn't or wouldn't do. How did you do it?”

“It wasn't too hard sir. Actually it all was accomplished with a bottle of whiskey and a twenty dollar gold piece”.

“Really? Amazing. Now, let me ask you this, what is your opinion on Major Parker's murder?”, asked the Colonel.

“If you are asking me if he was killed and mutilated by an Indian, I honestly don't know. My suggestion would be to have someone familiar with Indian warrior tactics to examine the photos. Maybe then that person could at least give us a theory. As I mentioned at the beginning sir, I'm an engineer, not a criminal investigator or for that matter an Indian fighter”.

“That's true, but look at what you have accomplished and in a short time may I add”.

“Forgive me sir, but I'm getting the impression that I'm not going to be allowed to return to my unit in Texas”.

“Texas? No young man. Your next assignment will be in Pennsylvania. Carlise Barracks to be exact”.

“Why Carlise?”

“Two reasons. First, Carlise is the current training center for cavalry recruits. The instructors there are army veterans. A few of them fought in the Indian wars. Some might have even known, know of or served with Major Parker. If so, listen to what they have to say. Second, the Indian School is located there.

Talk to a Mr. Pratt. He's the Superintendent of the school and should be able to provide you with information about Native Americans. And, since you will be at Carlise Barracks you can stay at the B.O.Q. (Bachelor Officer Quarters) That gives you the luxury of being able to take your time with your investigation”.

At four P.M. the next day Lieutenant McKenzie reported to the Officer Of The Day at Carlise Barracks. After unpacking in his room he changed to the uniform of the day and went outside, walking slowly as he visually and mentally surveyed the Army Post. From time to time he returned salutes given to him by soldiers of different ranks. Finally, his walk took him to the corrals where a Sergeant stood watching recruits tend to their mounts. “Brush that horse like you mean it. Your not suppose to tickle it. You're supposed to groom it!”, the Sergeant yelled. When he saw McKenzie he took his foot off of the bottom rail stood at attention and saluted.

“At ease Sergeant”, said McKenzie.

“Good day to you sir. I was just teaching the new lads how important it is to take care of their mounts and I didn't see you approaching sir”, said the Sergeant.

“No problem Sergeant. Sergeant?”

“Sergeant Edward Folgesong, instructor of Calvary. Sir”.

“I am Lieutenant McKenzie. I'm looking for veterans of the Indian Wars. I need some information”.

“Aye, then you will want to talk to the likes of Sergeant

Donovan McGuire. I believe he is overseeing a bunch of recruits who's duty it is this day to muck the stable stalls, sir.”

“And he's a veteran?”, asked McKenzie”.

“Yes sir, late of the Seventh Calvary. He requested and was given a transfer right after the incident at Wounded Knee”.

“Then he was there when it happened?”

“He says he was”.

“Very well. Thank you and carry on”.

“Yes sir. Very good sir”

It was only a short walk from the corrals to the stables.

McKenzie saw a tall muscular man with a thick mustache standing and watching recruits using shovels and rakes as they removed horse manure from the stalls. The man turned when out of the corner of his eye he saw an officer approaching. He waited and when McKenzie was close enough the Sergeant saluted. After returning the salute McKenzie said, “I'm told that you are First Sergeant Donovan McGuire”.

“That I am and at your service sir”.

“Good. I need some information and I believe that you are one that can help me”.

“I don't know what you would want from the likes of me, but what is it you would like to know?”

“Do you know that Major Conrad Parker is dead?”

“No sir”.

“You don't seem too surprised”.

“Not at all sir. Was it the drink that done him in?”

“No. He was murdered”.

“Ah, I see”.

“Once again you don't appear to be surprised”.

“Did you know the Major sir?”

“No”.

“Well, if you had, you, like anyone who knew or came in contact with Major Parker it would be no surprise that someone or the drink killed him. He was not well liked by officers or men sir”.

“Really? You mention drinking. Do you have first hand knowledge of his drinking?”

“Yes sir, me and anyone assigned to the Seventh Calvary and in particular, Company C”.

“You saw him drink?”

“I saw him drink, saw him drunk and saw him fall out of the saddle sir”.

“And that's why he was not liked, his drinking problem?”

“I can't speak for the officers, but us non commissioned officers couldn't trust him when it came to making decisions. As for the men in the ranks they didn't like him because of an incident where he had a man flogged”.

“Flogged? Flogging was stopped in 1861”.

“We knew that. Still, we had to stand and watch Private, Adam Henderson receive ten lashes because the Major considered the mans saddle and bridle to be too dirty to pass inspection.”

“Is he the reason you left the Seventh Calvary?”

“No sir. I left because of Wounded Knee. I enlisted in this man's army to fight the Nations battles if need be, not to murder women, children and old people. That's what they did at Wounded Knee”.

“I see. Well thank you Sergeant. You have been a big help”.

“You're welcome sir. Now, I'll be getting back to my duty of having these recruits properly muck the stalls,” said Sergeant McGuire”.

Back in his room at the barracks McKenzie sat at a table and wrote what he had learned about Major Parker. After writing the name Adam Henderson in the log he was keeping he underlined it. He wanted to find the man, hoping he was still in the army and substantiate the fact that he had been flogged on the orders of Parker. If he had left the army, where was he? “Hell, is he even still alive?”he thought to himself.

After walking downstairs he came upon the Officer OF The Day. McKenzie stopped and asked, “Tell me, is there anything to do or see in this town?”

“As far as I'm concerned you have two choices, take in the carpet factory or the Indian School.”

“What can you tell me about the Indian School?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Have there been any issues with the school being near an army training facility?”

“No. The school was started by Captain James Pratt. I'm sure you've heard of him”, said the Officer Of The Day.

“Yes, I have”.

“He was with the Tenth Calvary. I'm sure you've heard of them”.

“Of course. It was the first all Black Unit formed to serve in the West. They fought not too long ago against the Apache”.

“That's right. Well as I hear it Captain Pratt took a bunch of Indian prisoners to Florida. When he got there he came up with the idea that if he taught them the white man's language and the white man's way of life and a trade they would become useful citizens. That way there wouldn't be a need eventually to hold them in prison. Well, his plan worked. It worked so well that he convinced the government to allow him to open and operate a school for Indian children from all the tribes.

The story is that he took the Indian out of the child and installed the white man's ways. The children were not allowed to speak their native language, only English. They were forced to wear white man's clothing. Boys had their long hair cut and both boys and girls had to wear shoes instead of moccasins. Any one of them that disobeyed was subjected to corporal punishment. Some say he's doing a good thing. Others disagree. That way of thinking is that the Indian children are not only removed from their tribe and tribal ways, but also removed from their parents. Another thing is, now this is only what I hear and not gospel, but it's being said that many of the children come down with the white man's diseases. It seems that Consumption is often fatal, but that's only what I hear”.

“Do any of the students ever come here to the Barracks?”

“I don't know sir. None have since I've been here. You might want to ask Miss Fletcher. She's the civilian bookkeeper that keeps the records of any civilian that is hired to work here at the Barracks”.

“Thank you Lieutenant. What is your name?”

“Second Lieutenant Scott Morton sir”.

Offering his hand McKenzie said, It's a pleasure to meet you and thanks for the information”.

“You're welcome sir”.

Later that morning Lieutenant McKenzie sat in the private office of former Army Captain, Richard Pratt. He sat quietly as Pratt scanned the photo's of Major Parker's mutilated body. Finally, he placed the magnifying glass down and said, What is you want to know?”

“I would like your opinion on the mutilation of the body. Do you believe that it was done by an Indian. I would also like to know that if it was done by an Indian, do you have any knowledge or remembrance of any student present or past that would have had the desire to murder Major Parker?”

“Allow me to answer your first question. However, keep in mind that what I have to say is only my opinion. From what I can see in the black and white photo's my thought is that no Indian of any tribe committed the atrocity of mutilation of the body. I base my theory on the fact that the scalp was neatly removed, probably cut slowly, inch by inch if you will. Any Indian would first make an incision and then rip off the scalp. Next he would swing the scalp around and around, the motion which would remove any wet blood attached. My second thought is the amputation of each index finger. Keep in mind that many Plains Tribes believe that to render punishment on the body of a foe prevents the enemy to fight or kill in the after life. Therefore, they will remove the eyes, fracture the upper and lower legs and cut the muscles of the thigh and arms. If you want my honest opinion whoever killed Major Parker tried to make it appear that the crime was done by an Indian. That being said, I would suggest that your killer does have knowledge of the tribes of the Western Plain. Now, as to whether or not any of my students past or present would have the desire to kill Major Parker let me say this. Many of the children that come here are the victims of witnessing genocide of their people and their relatives. I'm sure that in the beginning they come with an attitude seeking revenge.

Be that as it may, here they are introduced to Christianity. Once they convert we hope that they render forgiveness to them that caused them harm”.

“I see, but you can't be sure that all of them rendered forgiveness. Can you?”, asked McKenzie.

“No of course not”.

“Very well. Thank you sir. It has been a pleasure meeting you and you have been a great help to me in my investigation”.

“You're welcome Lieutenant. I hope you find the solution that you're looking for”.

***************

Charles Lean Bear wiped the sweat from his brow then measured a white pine, two by four before cutting it with a saw. He had learned the carpenters skill at the Indian School at Carlisle, Pennsylvania and used it as an occupation on the Southern Cheyenne reservation in West Oklahoma. When he left the school in Carlise he rejoined his tribal members for awhile on the reservation given to them in Kansas. However, the people did not like it there finding the soil unproductive for farming. As a result he moved with the others to where they joined the Arapaho and settled in what was called, “Indian Territory”. After seeing what he considered the white man's world and allowed to be off the reservation for six months he came home to be with his people. Now, as a carpenter he helped build the buildings needed by the people. This day he along with other men were constructing a new school.

Called Avanaco by his wife, a Cheyenne young woman he married named Anchisha (Ray of Light) she soon gave him a son. He named the boy Honiahaka (Bear). Anchisha raised the boy along tribal traditional ways along with some of the white man's ways, in particular, Christianity. Charles Lean Bear did not attend church on Sundays. He told his wife that he would not attend while he still had hatred in his heart for the man with the red hair and beard. Try as he might he could not forgive. Many times at night in his dreams he would see again the murder of his mother and the mutilation of her body and deep down he still wanted revenge. He wanted to sing the songs of the warrior, songs that were sung in victory over an enemy, the victory song. When possible he went to Fort Sill. There he looked for and asked for information about a Calvary officer with red hair and beard. Each time he came away without any new knowledge. When possible he spoke to other members of both the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes asking them to listen for any information on such a man. Still, nothing new was heard or found.

At about the same time McKenzie was ordered to report to General Miller He gathered up his belongings along with the briefcase containing his reports and caught the next train to Washington, D.C.

At nine o'clock on the morning Lieutenant McKenzie reported to Colonel Willett. “So, what did you think of Mr. Pratt?”, asked the Colonel.

“I considered him to be a big help. As I mentioned, his opinion is that Parker was not mutilated by an Indian. Whoever it was, was too neat. However, whoever it was, again in Mr. Pratt opinion, was very knowledgeable of the Western Plain tribes and their customs”.

“Good, but should you have to deal with him again let me advise you that Captain Pratt, make that Mr. Pratt is becoming a thorn in the side of the Bureau of Indian Affairs as well as the army”.

“How so?”, asked McKenzie.

“Evidently, he disagrees with the reservation system. He believes that the American Indian should be allowed to integrate society and be able to live and work just as other Americans live and work”.

“What's his complaint with the army?”

“He see's the army as the force that keeps the Indian on the reservation. Technically he's right, but the army is slowly reducing the forts that support the Bureau of Indian Affairs. According to Pratt it's not being done fast enough”

“I see. What I need to know now sir is the location of a Private Adam Henderson of the Seventh Calvary, last known station was at Fort Laramie. My information is that Major Parker had this man flogged. If so, I'd like to talk to him”.

“Fine I'll look into it right away. Meanwhile I want you to return to New York. Make sure you didn't overlook anything.”

Yes sir, I'd like to know just how the police are making out in the case.”

“It appears as though you're becoming a criminal investigator, Lieutenant”, said the Colonel.

“No sir. I'm still an engineer, an engineer who has to finish building gun emplacements in Texas. I can't do that until I finish this investigation and I can't do that without going back to the Waldorf-Astoria”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

The

Waldorf-Astoria

 

Alan McKenzie sat looking at the small, frail, hotel maid.

He could see that she was nervous and appeared to want to be careful in the way she answered questions. “Miss McCarthy please relax. I only want to ask you a few questions about what you saw and found in relation to Major Parker's murder”. He said.

“I've answered all of those question to the police right after it happened,” Elsie replied.

“Yes, I know. Please, keep in mind that I'm not from the police. I will not involve you to the point that you are a witness of mine that would be forced to testify in court. I'm simply an army officer assigned to look into the facts of the matter. I hope you understand”.

“You're sure now that I won't be involved?”

“Not by me”.

“Alright then. What would you like to know?”

“I've already read what you have told Detective O'Malley so you won't have to repeat that part of your statement. I want you to try and remember that morning. In particular when you were in the hallway on the third floor”.

“Yes”.

“Can you remember any stains on the rug or walls?”

“What kind of stains?”

“Blood stains”.

“No. The only blood I saw was the bed soaked in it”.

“I see. Now, after the murder, what did you do?”

“Do you mean at home or at work?”

“At work?”

“Me and Helen French had to clean room 301. God bless her, she removed the sheets and blankets. Maintenance men removed the saturated mattress and I used the sweeper to clean the rug”.

“Was there any blood on the rug?”

“No sir, not a drop.”

“What about the walls?”

“No, none”.

“Is there anything else that you found?”

“Just a bead.”

“What kind of bead?”

“A tiny, red, glass bead. I almost missed it because you see the rug in the room is red. But, when I use the sweeper I look at the area I'm about to clean and it was then that I saw it”.

“And, what did you do with it?”

“I threw it away of course”.

“Threw it where?”

“In the wastepaper basket”.

“And of course the basket was emptied”.

“Yes sir, but not by me. The Police Detective gathered up all of the guest's clothing and then emptied the contents of the wastepaper basket into a large paper bag”.

“The police were there while you cleaned the room?”

“Yes sir. As I recall as I was cleaning the Detective came into the room and said that he was taking the dead mans things”.

“I see. Anything else?”

“No sir, not that I know of”.

“Thank you very much Miss McCarthy. You've been a big help”.

McKenzie sat alone as he wrote notes on a sheet of yellow blue lined paper. As he was folding it and placing it in his suit coat pocket Devin Hogan walked up and said, “Is there anything that you'll be wanting to ask me this fine day?”

“I can't think of anything at the moment,” McKenzie replied.

“Really now? Are you certain?”.

McKenzie smiled and said, “I'll tell you what Mr. Hogan if the saloon is open why don't we go there and let me collect my thoughts on the matter. Perhaps something will come to mind”.

“An excellent idea sir. An excellent idea”.

As the two man sat at a table at the rear of the room Devin Hogan lifted his glass and said, “Here's to you.”

“Thank you”, said McKenzie as he stirred the coffee in his cup. “Come to think of it there is something that I want to discuss with you”, he continued.

“And, just what would that be sir?”

“I would like to see the registrations for the month of April, if possible”.

“Ah, now you're placing me between a rock and a hard place. I can see the book you have in mind only in doing me duties as the House Detective.”

“How so?”

“Usually the situation arises when I spot uninvited, unregistered guest's in the hotel. When I confront them they naturally say that they have a right to be here since they're registered. It is then that I ask to see the book. Any other time it is kept by the desk clerk”.

“I understand, still I'd like to see it. Can it be done?”

“As they say, anything can be done for a price”.

“How much are we talking about?”

“Twenty dollars. Two ten dollar, Liberty Head gold pieces. One for the night desk clerk and one for me for taking the time to convince him to allow you to look at the book”.

“Agreed. How soon can I look at the book?”

“Ah, now, my good man, you'll be giving me some time to put things together and in motion. If possible you'll be checking with me in two days. Now, all of this talking has made me throat go dry again”.

“McKenzie signaled the bartender.

After leaving the hotel the Lieutenant walked to the precinct. This time upon entering he went directly to the stairs and walked up to the second floor. When he got there he gazed through a suspended, blue cloud of tobacco smoke generated by the pipes, cigars and cigarettes used by the detectives working in the room. Seeing Detective Sergeant O'Malley seated at a desk he walked over to him and said, “If you have a moment Sergeant, I'd like to talk with you”.

O'Malley looked up in surprise. “Ah, the good Lieutenant McKenzie. And, what brings you to the likes of me this fine day?”

“Could I sit down?”, asked McKenzie.

“Of course, of course. Please have a seat here next to me desk”.

McKenzie sat down and when he was comfortable said, “It's my understanding that you are in possession of the belongings of Major Parker”.

“Now, when you say belongings, what are you referring to may I ask?”

“Everything. His uniforms, clothing, suspenders, collars, papers, currency, everything that he had in the room when he was murdered”.

“And, how is it that you come to me with such a request?”

“Because Major Parker alive or dead is still a Commissioned Officer of the United States Army. Therefore, all of his belongings, everything that he had in that room under Army regulations is to be collected, inventoried and stored until such time as it can be given to his next of kin. So, Sergeant, I'm here to collect what belongs to the army, if you will”.

“And, I'll be telling you that what we have is considered evidence in a homicide matter”.

McKenzie looked around the room and after lowering his voice said, “Just how close are you of solving this case and don't bullshit me”.

“O'Malley smiled. “Not very close. Hell, in all probability

we'll never solve it”.

“Good, now instead of me having to go all the way to President McKinley, which I'll do if I have to in order to get the Majors belongings, why don't you just turn them over to me. Tell you what I'll do. I'll make it worth your while. A gratuity if you will for helping me out and I'll sign a recipe that you draw up showing that you turned the items over to me and why. That will protect you should a problem arise”.

O'Malley reached for the sack of Duke tobacco on his desk. After picking it up he rolled a cigarette, then lit it. After exhaling a cloud of smoke while deep in thought said, “When you mention gratuity how much are we talking about?”

“I'm thinking an American Gold Eagle”.

“A fifty dollar gold piece?”

“Correct”.

“Agreed, but don't give it to me here. Come with me to the property room. I'll give you the Major's things, you give me the Eagle”.

“Lead the way”.

Back in his room at Mrs. Bentwood Boarding House McKenzie carefully opened the first of two large, tan, paper bags. The first thing he removed was the Major's blood soaked, nightshirt that was wrapped in butchers paper. Next he removed the bulky items, a dress uniform, a suit, both wrinkled now after being tossed into the bag. In the second bag he took out shirts, socks, underwear, celluloid collars, an ascot and suspenders. With all those things removed he looked into the bag and saw the little things. A stick pin for a necktie, a brass cigar tip cutter, one cigar and one hundred dollars in gold coin. At the same time there were shreds of paper which appeared to be a read and discarded letter and a blue thick paper ticket stub. He became anxious not seeing what he was seeking, the red, glass bead. He looked again and again but it wasn't there. In disappointment he ran his finger over the bottom of the paper bag. When his index finger touched the fold that made up the bottom of the bag he felt something. He very carefully pried the object out of the fold, removed, retrieved it and then gazed upon it. He held between his forefinger and thumb a tiny, red glass bead. McKenzie stood up and placed the bead on a piece of paper which he folded over and over again until it was the size he wanted. He then place the paper wrapped bead in his wallet.

After sitting down again he sat trying to put a torn letter and envelope back together again. He started with the envelope attempting to see the return address on the back of it. After several minutes he was able to make out the name, Alfred Newman, MD, 141 Platner Place, Omaha, Nebraska. Thirty minutes later after putting the letter back together he made out that it was a bill for treatment of a sore throat. Five dollars was requested for payment. The letter had been sent to Major Parker at Fort Hayes in Ohio. “What was he doing at Fort Hayes? Better check on it”,he thought. to himself.

He repacked the items placing them again in the paper bags then went to bureau where a pitcher of water and a stoneware basin had been placed. He washed his hands and then prepared himself for dinner.

At supper he sat again next to Miss Bell and among the boarders who had been there when he stayed previously.

“It's so nice to see you again Mr. McKenzie. How have you been and welcome back”. said Edna Bell.

“Yes welcome back. Are you staying longer this time?”, asked Mr. Finley.

“Thank you. To answer your question, one never knows. My company has me here in New York on business, but I'm at their disposal and could be called back to Washington at any time”.

For the next two days McKenzie killed time by sitting on the front porch reading the newspaper, taking walks or taking naps. On the third day he made his way into the city, entered the hotel and met with Devin Hogan. Once again they met in the hotel saloon where Hogan conversed over a shot of whiskey. “So, I'll be tellin you that Jimmy Gilligan is a hard nut to crack, but I got him to come around. He'll be on duty tonight at the desk. He'll start work shortly before midnight. If you was to ask the likes of me, I'd say that you'd be smart to be sitting in the hotel lobby reading the newspaper or doing something that makes you appear as a guest. When Jimmy's ready and considers it safe he'll beckon you. Then, you read the register. Afterwich you pay Jimmy the ten dollars. Now, if it pleases you, I'd like mine”.

At twenty minutes past midnight McKenzie sat at a small table in an anti-room just to the rear and right of the hotel registration desk. He turned the pages to those dated at the end of March and turned the pages until he Came to April 1, 1897. Using his finger he pointed to each signature hoping to find either the name of a Native Indian or the name and rank of any army man. He stopped when he saw the written signature

Adam Henderson.

Back in his room at the boarding house McKenzie lay on on his back deep in thought going over and over about the things he now knew, the name and signature of Adam Henderson indicating that someone with that name registered the day before Parker was killed. The question however, is it the same Adam Henderson that Parker had flogged? If it is then Adam Henderson, previously Private Henderson had a motive to murder the Major.

McKenzie sat up and went back to the bag containing the small items belonging to Parker. He looked at each item again. Then, picking up the blue, ticket stub read, "Buffalo Bill Cody's Wild West Show. April 12-24, 1897, Fairgrounds, Brooklyn, N.Y. admit one. "Son of a bitch!", he said aloud.

******************

Back in Washington Lieutenant McKenzie sat outside the door that led into Colonel Willett's office. On the floor next to him were the two paper bags containing the effects of Conrad Parker, Major, United States Army. Being summer it was extremely warm inside the Army Headquarters Building and McKenzie began to feel the perspiration beginning to form behind the high collar of his uniform jacket. An hour later the door opened and the Colonel's adjutant said, “The Colonel will see you now”.

McKenzie picked up the two paper bags and carried them into the office. Colonel Willett was standing looking out of the window. Upon hearing McKenzie entered he turned and said, “Ah, Alan, good to see you. Come in my boy, have a seat and bring me up to date on your happenings”.

“Good day sir. First, I'd like to say that in these two bags are what I was able to reclaim in the name of the army. They are the belongings to Major Parker, should the army wish to return them to any next of kin. However, there is a blood soaked nightshirt of which I would suggest that we get rid of.”

“That right? Then why did you bring it back?”

“It's part of the investigation sir”.

“Of course, of course. What else have you to report?”

“By questioning one of the hotel maids I ascertained the fact that she found a tiny, red glass bead on the hotel room floor the morning Major Parker's body was found”.

“A glass bead you say? What is its connection to the murder?”

“I'm no expert in anthropology or Indian culture, but I believe that beading is one thing that some Indian women do. That being the case then it is possible that whoever was in that room with Major Parker that night might have been or could have been an Indian”.

“Come now Alan. Do you know the chances of an Indian being inside the Waldorf-Astoria, not to mention even being in New York?”

“What if I was to tell you sir, that between April 12, to April 24 of this year approximately one hundred Indians were camped on the fairgrounds in Brooklyn, New York?”

“One hundred Indians? In Brooklyn, New York? How is that possible?”

“They were hired as part of Buffalo Bill Cody's Wild West Show”.

“Camped you say?”

“Yes sir. I checked and found that Indians living on the reservation are not allowed to wear their traditional garb. At the same time they must live in cabins or houses. Nonetheless, when they are with Cody he allows them to revert back to buckskins and tipi's”.

“Amazing”.

“If you say so sir. Actually I find it problematic”.

“How so?”

“Before this last trip to New York I had an unknown suspect who possibly could be an Indian. After this trip I now have one hundred and one suspects any one of which could be an Indian,”

“How do you come up with that number?”

“Cody hired mostly Sioux for his show. You can bet that all of them remember Wounded Knee”.

“Damn.”

“Exactly”.

“I hope you have some good news to give me”.

“I do have additional news and I hope that you can consider it as good news sir.

“Try me”.

“In checking the registration book for the Waldorf-Astoria for the month of April, this year I came upon the name, Adam Henderson. Now, if that is the same Private Adam Henderson that Major Parker had flogged, then we not only have a suspect, but we have a prime suspect.”

“I can't believe that anyone, make that any officer in this army would disregard army regulations and do such an inscrutable act. Can you?”

“Yes sir”.

“You do?”

“Yes sir. Remember, Major Parker was from the Seventh Calvary. At one time Lieutenant Colonel Custer threatened to flog his men and at another occasion threatened to place deserters in front of a firing squad. He did both without any consideration of a court marshal or even a hearing. In my mind an Officer such as Major Parker would have seen this conduct copied it and thought he could get away with it. It is my understanding that many members of the enlisted were those that were down and out in society. They were often looked down upon by their officers”.

“You could be right. Is there anything else?”

“No sir, unless you're holding orders for me to return to Galveston”.

“Instead of pestering me on that matter concentrate on the case at hand, namely your suspects”.

“Then, in that case, I'll be off to Dallas to look for Adam Henderson. But first I want to talk again with Captain Pratt.”

“About what?”

“Two things. First, his knowledge of Bill Cody's Show and If he can shed some light on the glass bead.”

“Then do it. By the way, how much did all of this cost the army for your time in New York?”

“For the information and what's in the bags? Seventy dollars”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

Malfeasance-Misfeasance

 

 

After shaking hands with Alan McKenzie Richard

Pratt sat down at his desk and said, “Although it is nice to see you again I get the impression that you have something on your mind. What is it?”

“Yes sir. As you know William Cody has many Indians in his employ, hired to be in his wild west show. My question is did you send any of your former students to him?”

“No indeed. Our mission here is to take the tribal traditions, customs and religion out of the child. William Cody allows those who he hired off of the reservations to return to those tribal ways. Besides, it is my understanding that Mr. Cody hired mainly Sioux tribe members from the Pine Ridge Reservation”.

“I see. Then none of your students were hired by Bill

Cody?”

“I didn't say that. You asked me if I sent any of my former students to him. When the Sioux children were finished here and sent back to their homes I am no longer responsible for them”.

“I see, then who is?”

“The Office for Indian Affairs and their agents. If any former student of ours was or is in that show, it was them that allowed it and at the same time granted them leave from their reservation”.

“I have one other question”.

“Yes?”

McKenzie took out his billfold and carefully removed the red, glass, bead. “From your experience with the Tenth Calvary in the West, I was wondering if you could tell me anything about this”, he said handing the bead to Pratt.

“Nothing unusual about this. This is probably from a bunch of what was called, trade beads and goes all the way back to the English and French arriving in America. Native women use them to decorate clothing and other items. They have a keen ability to create designs in their endeavors, called, beading. However, once again there were and are no beads here at the school. Beading is a Native custom and one that we wanted to remove. Our female students learn how to cook, sew, do laundry and other domestic duties”.

“And, the boys?”, asked McKenzie.

“Carpentry, tinsmithing and blacksmithing. Now, that I think of it I do recall receiving a letter from a former student. In it he mentioned that he had a position in New York City as a carpenter. Wait, I believe that I still have it here somewhere.

Yes, here it is”, said Pratt as he opened the envelope. “I won't bore you with the details. He mentions that he wanted to see what he calls the big city before returning to the reservation in Oklahoma. He goes on and on about the wonders he had seen, trolley cars, the subway, things like that. Nonetheless, this young man is a Cheyenne, not a Sioux, so I doubt it if he was with Buffalo Bill”.

“May I ask, what is the post mark?”

Pratt looked at the envelope and said, “Brooklyn, N.Y.

April 15,1897, 4- pm.”

“And, could I have his name please?”

“Certainly, it's Charles Lean Bear. You'll probably find him now on the Southern Cheyenne Reservation in Oklahoma.”

After leaving the Indian School McKenzie decided to have lunch in the officers mess at Carlise Barracks. When he arrived at the Barracks he was handed a telegram. He walked outside and opened the envelope and read, “STORMY WEATHER EXPECTED. COME HOME”.

The next day Lieutenant McKenzie sat watching Colonel Willett pace back and forth as he spoke. “What we have Lieutenant is a conundrum. My understanding is that the New York City Police Department is ready to issue a complaint against the Army for interfering in an investigation, tampering with and damaging evidence along with bribing a police officer. At the same time they have your signature on a piece of paper that they say is proof that you are responsible for these acts. What do you have to say?”

“I'd say that I'm guilty. My question is what will the army do?”

“Well young man, I'm open for suggestions”.

“See if they're willing to accept my apology and return of Major Parker's belongings, all except the red, glass bead”.

“Why not the bead?”

“At the time I met with Sergeant O'Malley I read the evidence report. There was no mention of the bead. In all probability they either overlooked it as evidence or forgot to list it. Besides, right now I consider the bead crucial to my investigation”.

“What about the bribe to the detective?”

“Simply a misunderstanding. My intention was to provide the sergeant necessary funds to pay any informants.”

“Do you think they'll buy it?”

“We'll know if they agree to accept my apology. All we can do is sit and wait. Then I have to meet privately with Detective Sergeant O'Malley”.

“What for?”

“To make sure he's on the same page”.

“I'll leave that up to you. For the moment I'm keeping this problem with the police from the General. Therefore, don't mention this to anyone”.

“Yes sir.”

Two days later Alan McKenzie sat in a rocking chair on the porch of Mrs. Brentwoods boarding house. He smiled when he saw Detective Sergeant Patrick O'Malley walking up the steps leading to the porch. “Ah, Sergeant O'Malley. Good to see you. A little bird has told me that they have your ass in a sling. Is that true?”, said McKenzie.

“Aye it is. And it might mean my position sir. I hope that you wanting this meeting means that you know a way out of my predicament”.

“Perhaps Sergeant, perhaps. Here, sit, relax and tell me what the charges are they've filed against you”.

“Accepting a bribe, tempering with evidence, misfeasance and malfeasance of office. Now, I'll be telling you that I could also go to jail”.

“I assume that you will have a hearing”.

“Aye, in three days”.

“Do you have a lawyer?”

“One of sorts. I can't afford the best you see”.

“No matter. Have him call me as a witness. Here are the two bags containing the effects of Major Parker. I'll testify why they were wanted by the army. Has there been any mention of the photographs?”

“No, not yet”.

“If the photo's haven't been mentioned by now I doubt if they ever will be. Now, let's concentrate on the bribery charge. What evidence do they have?”

“I really don't know”.

“Alright. My story will be that the money I gave you was to pay for any information coming from informants. If they mention why you didn't tell them that your answer is, because you didn't know what was happening with my investigation and was afraid to mention me, professional ethics, if you will”.

Three days later Detective Sergeant Patrick O'Malley was found innocent of all charges and Lieutenant Alan McKenzie apologized for the problem he had created in the matter.

After the hearing O'Malley and McKenzie sat at a table in

Delmonico's having a late lunch. “You don't know how much I appreciate what you've done for me Lieutenant”, said O'Malley.

“Alan, my name is Alan and don't mention it, actually I more or less got you in too deep when I gave you the money”.

“I shouldn’t have taken it, but on my wages a gold piece puts a little more than bread on the table for my wee one's”.

“So you have children”.

“Aye, three to be exact”.

“You are a fortunate man”.

“That I am”.

“Now what are you going to do?”

“Continue the investigation of course”.

“You do realize that by now your hearing along with Parker's murder will be connected and the story will appear in the newspapers”.

“And, I am deeply sorry about that Alan”.

“No matter, if I'm asked I'll say that the investigation is a joint venture. Is that alright with you?”

“Aye and allow me to suggest that from now on it could be. That is if you're willing to do so”.

“Sounds good to me. Right now, I have two, possible suspects. Let's have another coffee and dessert and I'll bring you up to date on what I have”, McKenzie suggested.

**************

Back in Washington McKenzie reported on what had transpired with the New York Police Department and Detective Sergeant Patrick O'Malley. “So, at this time New York is satisfied?”, asked Colonel Willett.

“Yes sir, but at the same time the investigation into the murder of Major Parker is a joint project”.

“Yes, the cat is out of the bag so to speak, but I didn't expect it to be a secret for long. Nonetheless, be careful what you say to or around reporters”.

“Yes sir”.

“Now, what are your plans. Where do you go from here?”

“I'm still trying to find Henderson. If you don't mind I want to concentrate on him”.

“I thought you said he was in Dallas”.

“I hope he still is”.

***********************

A week later Alan McKenzie knocked on the front door of Wilma Brooks boarding house at 130 Patterson Ave. Dallas Texas. When the door opened a gray haired, short, over weight woman stood looking at him. “If you're looking for a room, I'm filled, sorry,” she said.

“No Mam, It's not a room I'm after. I'm looking for a lodger of yours, a Mister Adam Henderson”, said McKenzie.

“What for? Are you a bill collector? If you are he owes me for back rent. I get paid first”.

“I can assure you that I am not a bill collector. Now, is Mr. Henderson in?”

“He's in his room, but you can't go up there. You can wait in the pallor or here on the porch. It's up to you”.

“The porch is fine.”

“Have a seat. I'll go and tell him you are here. Who shall I say is calling?”

“Alan McKenzie”.

Wilma Brooks closed the door and McKenzie walked over to a rocking chair and sat down.

Ten minutes later, a short, thin man came through the front door. When he saw the man seated in the rocking chair he stopped and said, “You're army ain't you?”

McKenzie stood up and said, “Yes. I'm Lieutenant McKenzie. How did you know I was from the army?”

“Two reasons, first the way you look, all neat and trim. I bet you went to West Point. Second, I've been waiting to hear from the army about my pension request. I hope that's why you're here”.

“Sorry to disappoint you. I'm here for another reason.”

“And, just what would that be?”, asked Henderson as he took a seat in a chair directly across from McKenzie.

“Do you remember a Major Conrad Parker?”

“I think of the bastard everyday, more when the scars on my back start to aching”.

“So, you were flogged”.

“Would you like to see my back?”

“Not at the moment. I have a question”.

“What is it?”

“Why were you in New York in April?”

“I wasn't”.

“Before you go any further I want you to know that I saw your signature signed when you checked into the Waldorf-Astoria”.

Henderson began to laugh. “Me, checking into the Waldorf-Astoria? Do I look like I can afford such a luxury? I'm barely making it, besides I've never been in New York in my life”, he said as he took his pipe and tobacco pouch out of his pocket. After filling the bowl of his pipe he struck a match and lit it.

McKenzie felt the excitement grow as he looked at the beaded tobacco pouch. “That tobacco pouch is different. I don't think I've ever seen one like that. May I see it”, asked the lieutenant.

“It's different because I had a Sioux woman make it for me. Cost me a cup of sugar back at Fort Lincoln. Right now it's getting kinda old and fragile, like me. I know how to handle it, you don't, so if you please, be careful. Many of the threads have either broke or rotted away. I've lost several beads”.

“Are you aware that Major Parker is dead?”, asked McKenzie as he turned the pouch over in his hands.

“No. good riddance, I say. How did the bastard die?”

“He was murdered.”

“The hell you say?”

“Believe me, someone killed him”, said McKenzie handing the pouch back to Henderson.

“My hat's off to whoever it was, but it wasn't me if that's what you're thinking.”

“Well, I have information that you are a suspect”.

“By who?”

“The New York City Police”.

“They're barking up the wrong tree”.

“You certainly had a reason to kill him”.

“So did the rest of Company C. Nobody liked Parker and that goes for the officers too”.

“I've been told that”.

“By who?”

“Sergeant McGuire”.

“Ah, the good old sarge. He looked after me, pleaded with the Major not to flog me. Came to the infirmary everyday as I was healing. Parker got wind of it and berated McGuire one evening at tattoo”.

“Do you know McGuire left the Seventh?”

“No, really? It don't surprise me none. Where is he now?”

“Carlise Barracks. He's training new, Calvary recruits”.

“Good place for him. He should be nearing retirement.

He told me once he was saving his money to visit Ireland. He has family back there. I hope he gets to see them”.

“Well Mr. Henderson, don't be surprised if you're visited by members of the New York Police. Like I said, you're a suspect in Parker's murder as far as they are concerned”.

“I'll be here waiting. As I told you it wasn't me there that signed my name. Besides, I'm sure there are more Adam Henderson's in this world then me. Let me ask you something.

How did you find me?”

“You mention your request for an army pension. The return address was on the envelope of one of the letters you sent”.

“If the army has my letters then they also have my signature on those letters. Did you check and compare with the signed name at the hotel?”

“Not yet, but I will”.

“Good, meanwhile, when you get a chance see what you can do about my pension. Hell, I've more then earned it”.

“I'll do that Mr. Henderson. Now, I'll be making my way back to my hotel. I want to catch this evenings express back to Washington”.

“Have a safe trip”.

“Thank you”.

Later that evening as the train sped along the tracks McKenzie sat deep in thought in the railroad car. “Henderson has a beaded tobacco pouch. He said that it was made by a Sioux woman. If so the pouch is missing several beads including red beads, but also white and blue beads from what I think is a Thunderbird design. If that is so, did Henderson drop more than one bead in the hotel room? Is Henderson the killer? The Thunderbird design I can see it in my mind”.

“Tickets! Tickets please. Have your tickets ready please”, said the conductor as he came down the aisle.

McKenzie reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and removed his ticket. He handed it to the conductor who said, “Thank you, I hope you have a nice trip sir”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

Sixty five Acres

 

Charles Lean Bear sat at the rough hewed table he had made. He had learned to like the taste of coffee and he sipped it slowly allowing for the fact that it was hot since the pot had just came off of the fire. Anchisha, his wife watched him in silence, then asked, “Will you sign the papers?”

Charles looked at her and said, “The rule is that in order to acquire sixty five acres of land we must enroll to be eligible. I have seen the land they want to distribute. It is not good land. I am no farmer. The white man changed me from a Cheyenne Warrior to a carpenter. Now he wants to change me again, from a carpenter to a farmer. I will not become a farmer and you will not become a farmers wife”.

“Then what will you do husband?”

“Work, earn wages, save. The white man has taught me the importance of money. With it you can do most anything. Without it you are destined to walk the earth constantly without.

When I have enough of the gold coins I will decide if we will stay here with our people or go to the big city I once visited”.

“You have told me of the big city. From what you have told me I am afraid to go there. You say there is much noise and people, people who do not like us”.

“You can get use to it and then live as a white person among them”.

“You say yourself that the white man changed you at the Indian School. I went to school here with my own people. Here they did not make me wear leather shoes. I spoke the language of our people, but learned the words of English. I know what a train is, but I never saw or heard of one that goes under the ground. I can not imagine a house so tall that the top of it is in the clouds. The cabin you built for us and our son is not right next to another. Yet you have told me tales of how many people live in one house in things called apartments and there are many voices and many smells. For these reasons I am afraid husband”.

“There is nothing to fear. We will be safe if I decide to go there.”

“You were restless in your sleep last night.”

“I'm sorry if I disturbed you. The bad dream came again”.

“The dream of the pony soldier with the red hair?”

“Yes. I saw him, but this time he came to me with no eyes and a wide smile on his lips”.

“Perhaps he comes to you from Seana, The Camp of the Dead”.

“I have killed him many times in my mind and dreams.”

“And still he haunts you”.

*****************

In his room at Fort Myer Lieutenant McKenzie looked at the signature of Adam Henderson signed at the bottom of the letters written and sent to Army Headquarters in Washington, D.C. Relying on memory he mentally compared what he was looking at to what he had seen on the registry of the Waldorf-Astoria. To him, they were similar, but at the same time he needed them to be exact. Only an expert handwriting analyst could make the determination needed to see if Henderson signed the registry or that it was a forgery. One thing was certain. Henderson did have a beaded tobacco bag and he admitted that it had been made by a Sioux woman. He reached for the tablet with white pages and with pen and ink wrote: Henderson has beaded tobacco pouch. Pouch in disrepair, several beads missing. Next, make arrangements to seek and find, Charles Lean Bear.

“So, I take it that you're basing your case on the red glass bead that was found in Parker's hotel room”, said Colonel Willett.

“No sir, but I will say that at this time it is an important piece of evidence. I state in my reports that Henderson has a pouch that the bead very well could have dropped from while he was in the room”.

“Alan, I will be the first to admit that I have spent some time on the western plains. Nonetheless, I do know that there are probably thousands of beaded pouches right now on any of the reservations where the tribes now live. At the same time you yourself report that during the month of April there were about fifty to a hundred Sioux in Brooklyn. Yet, you seem to want to dwell on Adam Henderson”.

“An Adam Henderson or some one pretending to be him signed into the Waldorf-Astoria. He had a motive to want to kill Parker and we now know that he has an Indian made, beaded pouch, a pouch where at one time one particular red, glass bead was attached.

“Speculative and circumstantial. You have nothing positive, do you?”

“No sir”.

“Alright then, go back to New York. Meet with your Detective Sergeant friend. I want to know what the police are up to and if they are making any progress in the case”.

“I was planning on making arrangements to go to Oklahoma. I want to meet and talk with Charles Leaning Bear”.

“All in good time. New York is your destination and also your orders”.

“Yes sir”.

As Alan McKenzie hung a suit in the bedroom closet Mrs. Brentwood stood just outside of the bedroom door. “It's none of my business of course, Mr. McKenzie, but one of these times when you return I might not have a room for you to rent”.

McKenzie looked at her and smiled. “And, no one knows that better than I. Still, it's a chance I must take”.

“You could rent it for a year”, said the landlady.

“I'm afraid my company won't pay the expense not knowing if and when I'd be in town”.

“I see. Well, don't say I didn't warn you”.

“Yes Mam. Thank you”.

Mid-morning of the next day McKenzie sat beside the desk of Sergeant Patrick O'Malley. “So, how was your trip and what do you have to say to me this fine morning?”asked O'Malley.

The trip was hot and dry. I did meet with Adam Henderson. He denied not only never having been in the Waldorf-Astoria, but New York City as well”.

“And tell me now, do you believe him?”

“I don't know what to believe. He wasn't too upset or concerned about Parker's death. He displayed more interest in the well being of one of his past sergeants.”

“Really now?”

“I did accomplish one thing”.

“And, what would that be?”

“Henderson has a beaded tobacco pouch and he stated that a Sioux woman made it for him. He gave her a cup of sugar in return.”

“And tell me, was it missing the bead that you told me about?”

“It is missing several beads”.

“Truly?”

“Yes, I even held it and examined it myself”.

“Ah, Alan, the Saints themselves might be looking down on us”.

“That may be. However, I did tell him that you are working the case and that you might go there to talk to him”.

“I'll not be taking a long, hot train ride. What I will do is contact the Dallas Police and have them take several photographs of your Mr. Henderson. Once I have them I will show it to the desk clerks at the hotel. It will be them that either identifies him or say no”.

“I see. I did have one other thought”, said McKenzie.

“And what would that be?”

“The pouch, as I said was missing several beads. I'm wondering if perhaps, just perhaps more than one bead dropped from the pouch and could possibly be under the bed in the room”.

“It's possible. We can question the maid again. First let me get my request off to the Dallas people”.

*****************

Elsie McCarthy sat nervously twisting a dust cloth in her hands. Looking At Sergeant O'Malley she said, “I've told you all I know about that morning sir.”

“I'm sure you have, but you see my fine girl, things come up, things that we police want to have answers. What I want to know is that other than the red, glass bead you found when sweeping the rug did you find any others, say under the bed?”

“Now sir. As I told you, the men removed the blood soaked mattress. It was then that I looked down through the bed springs.”

“What were you looking for?”

“Dust mites and any blood that might have gathered”.

“Then you didn't see any other beads under the bed or anywhere else in the room?”

“No sir”.

“Can you think of anything else? Anything strange or unusual?”, asked McKenzie.

“No sir, other than the damage I reported to the Housekeeper.”

“What kind of damage?”, asked O'Malley.

“When I went to empty the ashtray I noticed that is was chipped. Being glass someone, say the next guests could cut themselves on it.”

“Are you sure that it wasn't damaged before?,” asked McKenzie.

“I'm, positive. I empty the ashtrays every morning if they’ve been used. Mr. Parker used the two in his room frequently filling them with old smelly cigars and cigar ashes”.

“So it was when you were emptying cigar ashes that you notice the chip in the ashtray?”, asked O'Malley.

“Yes sir”.

“A normal duty is it not?”

“Yes sir., but this time the ashtray had burnt tobacco, like when someone would smoke a pipe then discard the ash by tapping the pipe on and into the ashtray. It wasn't cigar ash, Mr. Parker s cigar ashes were white. The tobacco I'm mentioning was dark, almost black”.

“Could be a blend using molasses”, said O'Malley turning to McKenzie.

McKenzie looked at O'Malley and said, “We have a cigar in Parker s belongings, but no sign of a pipe or pouch belonging to him”.

“Aye, then that just leaves your Henderson fellow and several million pipe smokers in the nation as suspects,” answered O'Malley.

 

*****************

Colonel Willett sat at his desk reading the morning New York Journal. He read about how the Cuban people were being mistreated in their own island nation. According to the newspaper, women and children were being starved to death.

Concentration camps had been constructed and thousands of Cubans were incarcerated and mistreated. Both the New York Journal and the New York World printed stories nearly everyday about Spanish troops committing atrocities. American business men with investments in Cuba grew concern about losing property and capital. At the same time there were those that supported President McKinley ideas for expansion. Some wanted the United States to annex the island only ninety miles off the tip of Florida. To Willett it seemed that the United States and Spain were having their relationship deteriorating. It seemed that every week the Americans, either politicians or journalist's accused the Spanish of the abuse of human rights. Others demanded that Spain grant the Cuban's their independence.

The Cuban situation was also on the minds of the men seated for dinner at Mrs. Brentwood's Boarding House. “I say send in the navy and marines and throw the Spanish out. Then, and only then will the Cuban people be allowed to form their own democratic government. Don't you agree Mr. McKenzie?”, asked Mr. Finley.

“I'm sorry. I don't get involved in politics, domestic or international”, McKenzie replied.

“All of us, one way or another will be involved if there is a war, whether we want to or not”, said Harvey Perkins.

“Hear, Hear”, said Finley in agreement.

“Well, I for one hope that there is never a war”, said Miss Bell.

“As you are a woman I would suggest that you take the attitude of Mr. McKenzie. Don't get involved in politics”, said Finley.

“As a woman I certainly have the right sir to oppose war, particularly when it involves my country,” Edna Bell replied.

“Next, women like you will want the vote”, said Perkins.

“We should have that right now”, Edna responded.

“Mr. McKenzie, surely you would serve your country if there was indeed a war?”, asked Finley.

“Of course. However, in my mind I'd be fighting not for the liberation of the Cuban people, but for the capitalist's and expansionists who at the present time are slowly pushing us into a war”.

“Are you against expansionism?”, asked Finley.

“Why is it necessary?”, asked McKenzie

“I'm sure that you have heard of the “Manifest Destiny”, sir”, said Finley.

“Yes, which one? Thomas Jefferson's or William McKinley's?”, asked McKenzie.

“Both. The first, Jefferson’s results expanded this nation coast to coast. The next one will result in the United States becoming a world power”.

“Perhaps you can tell me why that is so important”, said McKenzie.

“It is important that our nation take its place in the world,”

“No, no my friend. The desire for expansion is for the extending of present and future trade agreements with other nations. Being a world power only means that favorable trade agreements will be made under the threat of a gun”.

“Nonsense.”

“Nonsense? Are you aware of the Opium War generated by England paying for trade goods with the drug instead of the silver pound? The Chinese had to accept the agreement after British gunboats arrived in their harbors, At this very minute there are those in Washington calling for a larger navy. Ask yourself, why?

“As for me running this boarding house is enough on my mind, so war or the threat of war and women's right to vote is the last things I think about. Now, if all of you are ready, the dessert this evening is bread pudding”, said Mrs. Brentwood.

After dinner Alan McKenzie went outside and took a seat in one of the rocking chairs on the porch about ten minutes later the screen door opened and Edna Bell walked on to the porch.

“Do you mind if I join you?”, she asked.

“Of course not”, he said as he stood up.

“It's such a lovely evening. Soon the summer will be gone and days and nights like this will be memories, until the next summer”.

“True, but there must be a reason for the change of the seasons. Who knows what the creator had in mind,” said McKenzie.

“I've meant to ask you Mr. McKenzie, as an engineer where did you study?”

“West Point”.

“The Military Academy?”

“Yes”.

“Then you are a former or present Army Officer”.

“Present. I'm a lieutenant, assigned to Army Headquarters in Washington D.C.”

“Then why didn't you say so at dinner this evening?'

“What good would it have done. Men like Finley believe what they read in the newspapers. Not to change the subject, but tell me about yourself.”

“There's not too much to tell. I was born in Providence, Rhode Island. My mother died when I was five years old. I was raised by my father and his sister, my Aunt Grace. At age twelve I decided I wanted to be a teacher. I graduated from high school and could have entered teaching then, but I wanted more. I applied to and was accepted to attend the Rhode Island State Normal School. I graduated and along with my teaching credentials I am now an educated, young, available, old maid”.

“You forgot to mention, pretty and if you are a single woman then I am suggesting that it's by choice”, McKenzie replied.

“Thank you sir. You're very kind”.

“Well, since you've mentioned what a fine evening it is would you care to join me for a stroll, a walk if you will”.

“It sounds lovely”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

Drum Beats

 

Lieutenant McKenzie sat in the office of Indian Agent, John Chambers. As they talked in the distance the sound of beating drums was carried on the afternoon air. “Is there some kind of ceremony taking place?”, asked McKenzie.

“Yes, you came when it's time to renew the sacred arrows”.

“Interesting', said McKenzie.

“You think so? The Cheyenne believe that the four arrows were given to their people by Mutsoyef, better known as “Sweet Medicine”. The four sacred arrows are two for war and two for hunting. Only the men of the tribe are allowed to attend. In past times the women would stay in their tipi's. Today they’re inside their cabins. Now that I've told you just what's going on outside why are you here and what do you want?”

“I'm looking for a Cheyenne man that goes by the name, Charles Lean Bear. I'm hoping he's here on the reservation”. McKenzie answered.

“Charles Lean Bear? For the record his Cheyenne name is Avanaco. He got the name Charles from Pratt when he attended the Indian School. That my friend was a waste of time, because as soon as he was back with his people they called him Avanaco. We here on the reservation call the Cheyenne by Christian names. We also make sure that they live like white's, living in cabins, become farmers, things like that

“Yes I know. I also know that Charles is a carpenter”.

“And a damn good one, also”, Chambers replied.

“Well, if he's here I'd like to talk to him”.

“What about.”

“Let's just say it's an army matter.”

“If it's an army matter then why didn't the commander at Fort Sill send someone instead of you coming all the way from Washington?”

“I'm sure that you've heard the term, military secret”.

“Certainly.”

“Then, let's consider my visit here as one of those”.

“Fair enough, but at present the man you're looking for is visiting the reservation of the Northern Cheyenne.”

“Well, I'll have to telegraph my commanding officer and let him know that.”

“Who would that be?”

“Colonel Willett”.

“Alonzo Willett?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“Never met the man. There's a story that he lost his young daughter. Her death hit him hard and he took to the bottle. I think he was either a Captain or a Major at the time. Anyway, I guess he finally gave up drinking.”

“I've always seen him sober”.

“Good, now, since you won't tell me what you want with Charles Lean Bear along with the fact that he isn't here, I've got work to do”.

“How long will he be gone?”

“That's hard to say. The arrow ceremony takes place for five days. His wife has kin there and he has my permission to leave his home to visit. Might be a week, might be a month”.

“Then I guess I'll have to go there. Where is it?”

“Montana”.

“Where in Montana?”

“A place called Lame Deer”.

“Who is the Agent there.”

“A fella by the name of William Parsons.”

“Will he be co-operative?”

“Depends”.

“On what?'

“Whether you go with a military secret or tell him exactly why you are there”.

“I take it then that I got off on the wrong foot with you”.

“Kinda.”

“I'm investigating a murder of an army officer and I want to talk with Charles Lean Bear and see what he knows about it”.

“Is he a suspect?”

“Not right now.”

***************

When he arrived in Lame Deer large, dark, threatening thunderhead clouds came in crossing the open land. He saw the sign that read, “Home of The Tsitsistas”. As he looked around he saw an occasional erected tipi and horses grazing on tender grass. Scattered over the land making up the Northern Cheyenne Reservation were the cabins, now the homes of the tribe. Finally, he saw the log building that was the office of the Indian Agent and he headed for it.

Entering the office he saw a tall, muscular man with jet black hair and a mustache to match. The man stood up from the chair he sat in behind a desk and said, “Can I help you?”

“You can sir, if you're William Parsons,” McKenzie answered.

“Well, that's me. Now what can I do for you?'

“Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Lieutenant Alan McKenzie, United States Army. At present I'm investigating a murder of an army officer. The reason I'm here is that I would like to talk to a Cheyenne man called Avanaco by his people and Charles Lean Bear is his other name”.

“I notice that you're not in uniform. If you're who you claim to be I need to see some identification”.

“Certainly,” said McKenzie as he produced his papers.

After reading the identification papers Parson handed them back and said, “Charles Lean Bear? The name rings a bell. Let me check my records.” Parsons then opened a drawer holding several folders. He removed one file then opened it and took out a sheet of paper. Running his index finger down a list of names he stopped moving his hand and said, “Ah, here he is. Yes, Charles Lean Bear, wife and son, visiting from Oklahoma. Of course you know you've come at a busy time here. It's the time of the Arrow Ceremony.”

“Yes I know. I just came from the Southern Cheyenne Reservation. The ceremony had just begun when I was there. However, instead of traveling back to Washington I decided to come up here and see if I could finish what I set out to do, namely interview Charles Lean.”

“Well, it's quiet now, but the drums will begin shortly. Since women are not allowed to witness the men they remain in the cabins. I know who Charles and his family are staying with here. I'll go and inform his wife that you are here and want to talk with him. How's that?”

“Fine. Thank you”.

“Just made a pot of coffee before you came in. Are you up for a cup?”

“Sounds good.”

“So, since you are an army man, tell me what you think about this here stink over Spain and the Cubans.'

“I haven't thought about it too much. This case I'm investigation has taken up most of my time. In answering your question I'd say that Spain would be very foolish to oppose the United States militarily”.

“Why?”

“For one thing the supply line from Spain to the island of Cuba is very long. The supply line for our army is only from the port of Tampa Florida or if necessary the Florida Keys. The other thing is the Spanish Navy is made up of many wooden vessels. They would be going against our ships made of steel”.

“Very interesting. So, do you think there will be a war?”

“I hope not. Things could still be solved with diplomacy”.

“Listen. The drums have started. I'll go and leave a message”.

Two and one half hours later a tall, dark, Cheyenne man entered the office of William Parsons. He looked first at the Agent then at the man seated in a hard, wooden chair. Addressing Parsons the man said, “You sent for me?”
“Yes I did, Charles. Let me introduce you to Lieutenant McKenzie. He's from the army”, said Parsons.

McKenzie stood up and offered his hand. Charles Lean Bear did not take it. “I see. Shall I call you Charles or Mr. Lean Bear?, asked McKenzie.

“Charles if you wish. Avanaco is what I prefer”.

“Very well. I'll get right to the point. I'm investigating the murder of a United States army officer. His name was Conrad Parker. I was wondering if you knew him?”

“Never heard of him”, Avanaco answered.

“Do you know any army officers?”

“I met a few when I went to school in Pennsylvania a few yearsa ago. I do not remember their names.”

“I have knowledge that you were in New York during April.

Is that so?”

“Yes”.

“With Buffalo Bill's show?'

“Yes. My position was that of a carpenter.”

“Did you know that the show would appear in New York?”

“Yes, that's why I wanted the job. I wanted to see a big city before returning to my people”.

“While you were in the big city, did you go into any hotel's?”

“No. I understand that the fine hotels are in Manhattan. I was in Brooklyn”.

“Did you stay in Brooklyn the entire time?”

“I only left to ride the subway. I took it to the end of the line and rode it back to where I began. The rest of the time I stayed with those from the show.”

“So, you don't know any army officers and you were never in any hotels in New York.”

“That's right.”

“Do you smoke a pipe?”

“Yes.”

“May I see it?”

Avanaco removed his pipe from his trouser pocket and handed it to McKenzie.

“And, I assume you have a tobacco pouch that goes with it”

“Do you want to see the pouch also?”

“Yes if you don't mind.”

After handing the pouch to the lieutenant Avanaco stood and watched the army officer carefully examine it. Are you looking for something in particular?.” he asked.

“I'm admiring the beautiful bead work”, said McKenzie.

“It was done by my wife.”

“She does beautiful work.”

“She is a beautiful woman.”

“I'm sure. Well, I want to thank you for coming in and meeting with me.”

“Before I go. What did this murdered officer look like. Perhaps I saw him in Carlise”.

“If you saw him you would remember him. He had bright red hair and a beard”.

Avanaco closed his eyes as a sudden chill went through his body. After composing himself he turned and left the office.

William Parson looked at McKenzie ans said, “While you were with John Chambers, did he give you the background on Charlie Lean Bear?”

“No, not that I recall.”

“Seems that he saw his mother shot and butchered”.

“Where?'

“On the Washita.”

“Parker was at the Washita.”

**************

“So I send you out to Oklahoma, you end up in Montana with the result that you come back with not one, but now two suspects”, said Colonel Willett.

“Charles Lean Bear had two things that makes him a suspect. He had a motive and he had the opportunity.” McKenzie replied.

“That's practically what you said about the Henderson fella.

You said that he had a motive. Hell, you even have him signing into the Waldorf-Astoria. Next, you'll be telling me that they both killed Parker.”

“Sorry Colonel, but if you recall I told you that I'm not a criminal investigator.”

“Do you think that by mentioning that fact continuously will get you re-assigned and out from under this investigation? Think again Lieutenant. Tell me, have you been in touch with your New York detective friend?”

“No sir.”

“Alright, I want you back in New York. Meet with him. Bring him up to date on what you have and what you think you have. At the same time I want to know what the New York Police have been doing”.

“Since I'm going back to New York there is a matter I would like to mention.'

“And, that is?”

“I stay at a boarding house each time you assign me to New York. The landlady suggested that I pay in advance and reserve my room there.”

“What is the rent?”

“A dollar a day”.

“Reserve the room for the next three months. No more. Should it become necessary later on we'll worry about it then. Anything else?”

“No sir.”

“You're dismissed.”

Late the next afternoon Alan McKenzie handed Mrs. Bentwood ninety three dollars. That should reserve me room for the next three months”, he said.

“It does. Still, I'll be giving you money back for the times you are not here at my table,” she replied.

“Thank you. That's up to you.”

The next day Patrick O'Malley stood and shook the hand of McKenzie. I'll be telling you that I thought the devil finally caught up to you. Where have you been?,” he asked.

“Oklahoma and then Montana”.

“And what is it that you found?”

“We might have another suspect.”

“The hell you say. Let me guess. It's an Indian”.

“A Cheyenne who goes by the name, Avanaco. They named him Charles at the Indian School. So, he also goes by the name, Charles Lean Bear.”

“And what makes him one of your suspects?”

“He has a motive, a reason to kill Parker, providing Parker is the red headed officer who he watched kill and mutilate his mother”.

“I see. Anything else?”

“He has a beaded tobacco pouch.”

“Was it missing a red bead?”

“No, not that I could see and I examined it closely.”

“Allow me to ask you something Alan. How many Indians did you see while you were out here?”

“Hundreds.”

“Do you know how many might have had beaded tobacco pouches?”

“No.”

“My friend, don't jump to conclusions. We Irish have a saying.

If you don't know the way. Walk slowly.”

“You may be right. Anyway, What have you been doing?”

“Ah Laddy, feast your eyes on these and tell me true that this is the man known to you as Adam Henderson.”

“The photo's from Dallas. Great, this should tell us something”.

“I'm afraid not. You see, while you were out there consorting with the Cheyenne I was showing these photographs to all of the hotel staff. That includes the desk clerks, bell boys and maids. They all remember the name, Adam Henderson. Unfortunately they say the man they remember was shorter than me, balding, had a thick mustache and was between forty five and fifty five years old. Nonetheless me Buck O', he did smoke a pipe.”

“So, Henderson is not our man.”

“No, he's not”.

“Damn.”

“Exactly. It is right now that I'm asking, do you know of anyone who meets that description?”

“One man does come to mind”.

“And, just who would that be?”

“Sergeant Donovan McGuire. Think about it. He was Henderson's Sergeant. He had access the Henderson's signature when he signed reports, passes, furloughs and requests. Having that ability to copy and forge the signature he could have done just that when he signed in at the hotel.”

“Would this McGuire have a reason to kill Parker?”

“Yes, Henderson told me that Parker berated McGuire one evening at tattoo. You're Irish, and so is McGuire if he were you what would you do?”

“Aye, you do have a point, my friend. But is he indeed a short man?”

“No, however, think about it were the desk clerks sitting down or standing up when they saw him? Did the bell boys observe the man they described in fact seated in a chair or standing up?”

“Ah, what you are saying my friend is that we still have many questions that need answering.”

“Looks like I'm heading for the Carlise Barracks”. said McKenzie.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

Carlisle Barracks

 

After pacing back and forth Colonel Willett stopped, turned and looked at Lieutenant McKenzie. "Now you're telling me that Adam Henderson, a man you traveled all the way to Texas to question. A man you were certain was a prime suspect because his tobacco pouch is missing beads. A man who had or has a reason to kill Major Parker because of the flogging, is no longer a suspect. Why again?"

"Because those working at the Waldorf-Astoria and were on duty during the month of April can not identify Henderson from the photo's shown to them by the police".

"And what is it that you want to do next?"

"I want to go back to Carlisle and question Sergeant McGuire. I think he has a lot more he can tell me about Henderson."

"Like what?"

"Like is there more to the story about the flogging?"

"Such as?"

"I don't know sir, but flogging a man over having a dirty bridle seems to be a bit extreme. Perhaps Parker had another reason."

"To me, that seems a bit far fetched. However, if you think talking again to the Sergeant will be beneficial then by all means go there. Talk to him. Hopefully you'll return with new information. It's been several months now. I was hoping that by now you would have been able to solve this crime."

"May I remind the Colonel that I am no professional investigator?"

"Yes. Yes, we've been over that time and time again. Go to Pennsylvania Lieutenant and this time come back with answers."

"Yes sir".

In his room at the Bachelor Officer Quarters at Carlisle Barracks McKenzie unpacked his suitcase. He had packed enough clothing to last him for at least five days. If a longer stay became necessary he would pay to have his laundry and cleaning done.

He heard footsteps in the hallway, footsteps that were approaching his room. He turned when he heard a little tapping on his open door. Turning towards the sound he saw an old friend. His roommate at West Point, Wesley Sanders. "Wes, you old, son of a bitch. What are you doing here?," he asked.

"Hello Alan, I saw your name on the B O Q registry. Well as you know A students at the Point become engineers. B students become artillery officers. C students end up on the Calvary and since I was a C student, here I am at the Calvary School. Now, that you know why I'm here, what the hell is an engineer doing here?"

"Special assignment from the Commanding Generals Office."

"Can you talk about it?," asked Sanders.

"I can tell you, but don't mention what I tell you to anyone here at the Barracks. The reason I'm here is to question a non-com".

"No problem".

"I'm investigating the murder of an army officer, actually a Calvary Officer."

"I didn't know that you were a qualified criminal investigator".

"I'm not, It seems that General Miller wants to establish a military police unit in the army. They chose me to be the forerunner of that unit."

"And, how is it going?"

"Poor Wes, piss poor. But, enough about that, what's your Unit?"

"Third Calvary. Right now, we're at Jefferson Barracks in Missouri. I was sent here to see how the training of Calvary recruits is going. It seems the big brass is expecting a war with Spain. There's even a rumor that horses and material are already being shipped to Tampa, Florida."

"Well, are you still single?"

"Certainly, think about it. What woman in their right mind would want either one of us. How long are you going to be here Al?"

"At least three days, maybe longer. It's according on how things go".

"Oh, I almost forgot to ask. What was the name of the Calvary officer that was killed? I might know him".

"Major, Conrad Parker."

"Wow. No kidding?".

"Did you know him?"

"Nope. I heard of him. They say he was a no good, son of a bitch. His brother officers hated him and his men despised him.

I'd say he had it coming from somebody."

"Well, right now I have more than enough people who wanted to kill him. All I need to do is find the one that eventually did."

Sanders removed his pocket watch, opened the case, looked at the time and said, "Hey, I'll catch up with you later. I've got five minutes to get to the corral."

"If you wait a minute I'll go with you. I'm looking for a particular Sergeant who should be around the area," said McKenzie.

"Do you have plans for this evening?", asked Sanders.

"No."

"Good, there's a tavern in town. I hear it serves the best chicken and dumplings around for miles. It seems they use an old, Amish recipe. Let’s dine there tonight. My treat."

"Damn. You're buying? The pay in the Calvary must be good. As I recall you had deep pockets at the Point."

As the two officers approached the Calvary training area McKenzie looked for Sergeant McGuire. Finally, he saw him mounted and ordering then watching recruits practicing formation drills. He decided to wait until McGuire was finished with his duties, then he would talk to him. As he waited he watched the young men in training. What he saw interested him.

As he stood there Lieutenant Sanders rode up and halted a dark, brown, mustang. "Is that the Sergeant you to talk to?,", he asked McKenzie.

"Yes, but I can wait, Alan answered.

"You don't have to wait. I'm about to relieve him. I want to see these boys at the trot and at the gallop. So far from what I've seen they look pretty good. I'll send the Sergeant to you".

"Thanks Wes."

A few minutes later Sergeant Donovan who had dismounted walked towards McKenzie. When he got close enough he dropped the reins and allowed the horse to nibble at new shoots of grass. Then he saluted and said, "Sergeant McGuire, reporting as ordered sir."

"At ease Sergeant", McKenzie replied returning the salute. "How have you been?", McKenzie continued.

"Fine sir. The new lads are learning quickly, those that don't get me boot in their arse, so to speak sir."

"Excellent, but I don't want to see you about the recruits. If you remember the last time we talked it was about Major Parker and Adam Henderson."

"Aye sir. I remember it well."

"I'll get right to the point. The Major was killed in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. A man calling himself Adam Henderson registered there. I met with Henderson in Dallas where he now lives. As a suspect, the Dallas Police at the request of the New York City Police took photographs of Henderson and sent them to a Detective O'Malley. O'Malley then showed the photo's to the hotel employees. None of them recognized Adam Henderson as the man who had registered there."

"Is that a fact?", asked McGuire.

"Yes. Now, in my questioning of Henderson in Texas he told me that after he was flogged that Major Parker called you out and berated you in front of the troops one evening at tattoo. Is he correct?"

"Aye, that he is."

"The employees at the hotel gave Detective O'Malley a description of the man they saw in the month of April as looking a lot like you."

"Really now. As good looking as that?"

"This is not a laughing matter Sergeant."

"Nor should it be sir. However, if the officers question is was it me, the answer is no. If the question is was I ever in the Waldorf Astoria as a guest or a sightseer, again the answer is no.

I've never been in New York State, or for the matter, the city sir".

" Let me ask you something. Do you smoke a pipe?"

"Aye, that I do".

"May I see your tobacco pouch?"

"Sure and it's nothing but a leather sack sir," said McGuire as he handed it to Alan.

McKenzie looked it the leather bag and handed it back to the Sergeant. "I was expecting something beaded. It seems that many Calvary men carry a beaded pouch. I want you to know of the position I'm in Sergeant. I have information that you resented Parker because he had Henderson flogged. After that he embarrassed you in front of your subordinates. To me that gives you a motive. At the same time you had continual access to Henderson’s signature enough that you could copy it and forge it. Isn't that true?"

"Aye sir. I see the predicament you're in, but if you were to check the dates in the month of April, you will find that I was here in the infirmary suffering from a bout of pleurisy. I was in no shape to travel to New York or to kill a man."

"Sergeant, you don't know how glad I am to hear that. Thank you for your co-operation. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome sir. Now, by your leave I'll be getting back to me duties," said McGuire.

Back in his room McKenzie wrote notes on a yellow, blue lined tablet. Further investigation of Sergeant Donovan McGuire finds him with perfect alibi, he being ill during the time of Major Parker's death. Facts checked at Carlise Barracks Infirmary. Question, who is the man that looks like or resembles McGuire?

As he finished writing Lieutenant Sanders knocked lightly on the door. “Come in,' said McKenzie. Seeing Wesley he said, “Well how did it go out there?”

“Fine, they're doing a good job here. These young recruits are learning well from the old timers, men like your Sergeant McGuire. And it's a good thing too Alan. War is coming just as sure as I'm standing here. Do you know what that means?,”asked Sanders.

“Yes, it means a hell of a number of people will be killed.”

“More important is the fact of promotions pal. War is the time for moving up in rank,” Sanders replied.

“Yeah, we move up in rank and doctors learn new ways to remove bullets, shrapnel do amputations.”

“Hey, that's the way it is. Don't tell me you want to be a First Lieutenant your entire career?”

“Actually Wes, I want to build things, things like bridges, hospitals, schools”.

“I'm sure you'll get your opportunity to do that. If you're lucky you will be building them in Cuba. Now, since I smell of horse, I'll be taking a hot bath and get ready for supper. Are we still on for Chicken and dumplings?”

“Unless you've changed your mind”.

At six o'clock that evening the two army officers took seats at a table in the dining room of the Red Boar Tavern. Wesley Sanders ordered a glass of beer. Alan McKenzie order a cup of coffee. “Still a teetotaler I see”, said Sanders.

“Yep, I think that there's enough alcoholics in this man's army. I choose not to be one of them,” McKenzie answered.

“Well old friend how is your bid for becoming the army's first criminal investigator working out?, asked Sanders.

“Not to well. Just between you and me, I've hit a brick wall. At the same time the New York City Police seemed to have done the same. If I'm lucky when I get back to Washington General Miller will toss in the towel and send me back to Texas”.

“What were you doing down there?”

“Building heavy gun emplacements.”

“For what purpose? Are the Mexicans a threat?”

“They could be for all I know. If you read the daily newspapers Spain is on its way here and we're all going to have to speak Spanish.”

“That's just a way to sell newspapers. However, and this is just between you and me. There will be a war. Think about it Alan. McKinley wants to expand. What better way then to beat an insignificant European nation like Spain and take it's possessions. An American victory would allow him to annex Cuba, Pureto Rico, Guam, and the Philippines.”

“I don't see it. Congress will never allow it”.

“Really? By doing so the United States then becomes a world power on the same level as England. England has India. America has a large foot hold in the Pacific reaching from Hawaii to the Philippine Islands. You mention Congress. Congress will allow the annexation as America brings democracy and better living conditions to those unfortunate people that have suffered under the Spanish”.

“We will, certainly.”

“Oh yeah, but after we do, we won't leave. Now, you can sit there with one silver bar on your shoulder. As for me, I see promotions coming my way.”

“Well, I just hope you live to get them.”

Sander's looked up as an army officer walked into the dining room. “Captain Fields. How are you sir?” he asked as he stood up. The Captain walked over to the table and said, Wesley, I heard you were here.”

“Allow me to introduce you to Alan McKenzie. He was my room mate at the Point.”

McKenzie stood and shook hands with the man. “A pleasure to meet you sir,' he said.

“We're about to have supper Captain. Will you join us?”

“Only If I'm not intruding.”

“You're not. Please have a seat”, said Sanders.

Once he was comfortable Captain Joseph Fields turned to McKenzie and said, “What Calvary unit are you with Lieutenant?”

“None sir. Actually I'm with the Engineers. I'm attached to General Miller's Staff and presently on assignment for the General,” Alan answered.

“A special assignment at a Calvary school? Can you talk about it?”, asked Fields.

“Yes sir. It's a secret only from the press. I'm investigating the murder of an army officer. At the same time General Miller is thinking about establishing a Military Police Unit in the army. I'm the guinea pig, so to speak.”

“I see. Who was the officer that was murdered?, asked Fields.

“A Major Conrad Parker.”

“Parker? So someone finally got to him. Well, it comes as no surprise.”

“Did you know him Captain?”

“Yes. He was on loan from the Seventh to the Third Calvary right after the Custer disaster. It seems his regiment wanted to know more about the Cheyenne and their habits since they were watching the Sioux. He was a Captain then. That was at Fort Robinson, in Nebraska. He was harsh with his troops and his non coms. He would have busted two sergeants and a corporal if it wasn't for our Commanding Officer refusing to do it. In the officers mess he was argumentative. In the officers club he was obnoxious. He'd get drunk and bore everyone about his exploits with his Illinois regiment during the Civil War. Many times he insulted two shave tail lieutenants we had at the time only because both were from Southern States.

Then, in the winter of 1878-79 a band of Northern Cheyenne left the Darlington Reservation part of the Southern Cheyenne Reservation and headed back North. We were mobilized and went out and intercepted them. We gathered up one hundred and fifty men, women and children. In January they were told that they would have to return to the southern reservation. They refused. Parker, had them confined in barracks with no food, or heat in order to force them to go south. As expected they escaped. Two columns were sent out to collect them. One column was under the command of Captain Parker. The column I was with returned sixty five Cheyenne back to the fort. Parkers column cornered and killed thirty two, poorly armed escapees. At the same time he lost twelve troopers killed and fourteen wounded. Needless to say that we of the Third Calvary were not too social-able with Parker after that. There was an inquiry and while that was going on he was confined to the fort. That only made it possible for more time to drink. So, that, Mister McKenzie is what I know about your deceased Conrad Parker. Now, since you are assigned to General Miller, who actually is your commanding officer?”

“Colonel Willett,” McKenzie replied.

“Alonzo Willett?”, asked Fields.

“Yes sir. Do you know him?”

“Yes. Coincidentally he was at Fort Robinson, at about the same time as Parker. In fact, and what I'm about to tell you is a rumor, but one that is very believable. It's been said, that then Major Alonzo Willett was stationed at Fort Robinson awaiting assignment. With him was his daughter, Dorothea. His wife had died. Some say it was a cancer. As both of you know orders, assignments and messages in this man's army move at a snails pace. As a result Major Willett and his daughter were more or less either forgotten or ignored by the army. As a result your Conrad Parker supposedly, began a romance with Dorothea Willett, then sixteen years old. After proposing marriage, he seduced her. The, after having his way broke the engagement. Major Willett received orders and with his daughter left Fort Robinson. It was shortly after that that word came that Dorothea had committed suicide. Some say she was devastated by the breaking of the engagement."

“You're certain of this Captain?”, asked McKenzie.

“I am. When you get back to Washington ask the Colonel, or if you prefer, search and read the records. Now, I believe our meals are coming this way”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

For The Record

 

On Saturday, November 13, 1897 Alan McKenzie returned the salute of a uniformed sentry then asked the soldier on duty for the records of Colonel Alonzo Willett. After showing evidence that he had the authority and the right to those records on the orders of General Miller he received the files. He then placed two thick, personnel files on the top of a hard wood table. After taking a seat in a chair and making himself comfortable he opened the file with the name, Alonzo Willett, U.S. Army. He read the first page. Alonzo Willett, born July 15, 1842, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to John and Harriet Willett. At age eighteen joined and served with the Philadelphia Brigade, an infantry regiment.

Willett saw action at the Peninsula Campaign, Battle of Fredricksburg, Battle of Chancellorsville, Battle of Gettysburg, Overland Campaign, Siege of Petersburg and the Battle of

Appomattox Court House. He enlisted as a private, was promoted to Sergeant. After the Battle of Chancellorville was promoted to Brevet Lieutenant. Promoted to full lieutenant, June 1864. At the end of hostilities requested to stay in U.S. Army. He was accepted with the rank of Second Lieutenant assigned to the Provost Marshal, Jacksonville, Florida. Married

Selma Winters of Jacksonville, on August 31, 1867. On January 8, 1867 requested transfer to Calvary. Transferred from Provost Marshal, Jacksonville Florida to Fort Stockton, Texas. On orders from General Edward Hatch joined Company K, Ninth Calvary Regiment, an all Black unit later known as “Buffalo Soldiers”. Willett saw action against the Apache. Received gunshot wound right upper arm (see medical records).

Promoted to First Lieutenant July 22, 1872. A daughter, Dorothea (see records Army dependents) was born May 17, 1868, Fort Stockton. Lieutenant Willett transferred to U.S. Third Calvary, Fort Robinson, Nebraska October 20, 1873. Saw action in 1878-79 Cheyenne insurrection Darlington Reservation. Promoted to Captain. On 1881. Requested transfer to an Eastern Command stating severe illness of wife. (See Medical records, Army Dependents). On November 6, 1887 request for transfer denied due to death of Selma Willett on November 1, 1887. (See Medical Records Army Dependents) On January 15, 1889 transferred to Military Division Of The Atlantic assigned to the staff of General Oliver O. Howard, later to General Thomas Miller. Pomoted to Major, Lieutant Colonel and Colonel.

McKenzie turned the page. When he did he found several newspaper clippings with printed photographs. Picking up one clipping he read the written obituary pertaining to Selma Willett. He was surprised to learn that her body had been shipped back to Jacksonville Florida for burial. The next article he looked at was a photograph of a young woman. He read the caption, “Captai Alonzo Willett announces the engagement of his daughter Dorothea to Captain Conrad Parker at Fort Robinson, Nebraska. No date has been set for the wedding.” He looked at the black and white photograph of Dorothea Willett and saw a light haired young, teenage woman.

“So young to have taken her own life. What a shame”, McKenzie thought to himself. Picking up the next cut newspaper article with a printed photograph was a writing of a July fourth celebration at Fort Robinson. McKenzie read the caption saying that “Captains Conrad Parker seen with his fiance' Dorothea Willett enjoy the Independence Day celebration along with Captain Alonzo Willett father of the future bride” “Son of a bitch!”, said McKenzie in amazement. He closed the file then selected the one labeled, “Medical Records U.S. Army Dependents, Third Calvary”. The first medical report was that of Selma Willett. After reading the army doctors report McKenzie realized that the wife of then Captain Willett was originally treated for Cellulitis of the left breast. Later Doctor Luther Simpson, M.D. Captain, U.S. Army Medical Service diagnosed Selma Willett as having terminal breast cancer.

McKenzie selected the next sheet of paper and read the name, Dorothea Willett, W.F. age 17 complaint of vaginal burning and discharge. Diagnosed as gonorrhea, treatment, silver nitrate. After closing the file he got up from the table and carried them back to the soldier on duty. “Thank you”, he said to the clerk. “You're welcome sir.”.

Back in his room at Fort Myer McKenzie sat deep in thought. As he did he paced slowly back and forth. Finally he took a seat at the small table that served as a desk and on a yellow, blue lined tablet put all of his ideas and thoughts to paper. When he was finished he read his noted over and over attempting to prove to himself that he was wrong. He wasn't. “I have one more thing to do. Hopefully, I'll be wrong”, he thought to himself.

The next day, Sunday, November 14. 1897 Lieutenant Alan McKenzie entered the building that housed the Military Division of The Atlantic. A sentry came to present arms and after returning the salute and showing his credential was granted entrance to Colonel Willetts office. Inside, McKenzie took off his uniform cap and placed his brief case on top of the large walnut desk. He looked around the large room then walked to the windows. Needing light he raised the shades allowing the mid-morning sunlight to enter. Next he went to the desk and standing behind it began opening the drawers. In the large middle drawer he found the usual plain sheets of military embossed stationery, pencils, an Indian rubber eraser and a faded, black and white photograph of Selma and Dorothea Willett taken some time ago. McKenzie judge the girl in the photo to be about ten or eleven years old at the time. He closed the middle drawer and opened the top left hand drawer. When he did he saw what he was looking for. He picked it up. Then, opening his briefcase placed the object inside. Returning to the window he lowered the window shade to their original position. Then, after leaving the office returned the sentry's salute and headed back to Fort Myer.

On Monday at nine o'clock in the morning Alan McKenzie greeted Colonel Willett with a “Good morning sir. When you have time I would like to give my report to you and General Miller.”

“Give it to me first and then I'll decide if it's feasible to give to the General”, Willett replied.

“Sorry sir. I contacted the General at his home last evening by telephone. I believe that he is expecting both of us to be in his officetihs morning.”

McKenzie watched the Colonel’s face turn red in anger then heard him say. “Very well. I'll see if he's ready for us.”

Three minutes later Willett appeared at the General's open office door, “Come in”, he said to McKenzie. Entering the office and seeing the General the Lieutenant said, “Good morning sir.”

“Good morning. Now, according to your telephone call of last evening which incidentally interrupted my game of cribbage that I was playing with my wife, I seem to recall that you said that you have solved the murder of Major Conrad Parker. Is that correct?”

“Yes sir”, McKenzie answered.

“Sir, with your permission and as the senior officer in charge of this investigation, I suggest that I learn the facts known to Lieutenant McKenzie about this matter. By doing so I can then determine whether or not the information is worthwhile or would be wasting the General's time”, said Willett.

“Nonsense, he's here now and if he has information that will solve this case I say let's hear it and be done with it. You may proceed Lieutenant”, said General Miller.

“Thank you sir. As both of you know I was ordered to take this assignment even though I objected, giving the fact that I am not or ever was a criminal investigator. Be that as it may, I began the investigation in earnest. The Colonel will recall that originally I had three suspects. They were, a former soldier named, Adam Henderson, a Cheyenne man named Charles Lean Bear and a Calvary Sergeant named Donovan McGuire. The reason they were suspects was they each had a reason, a motive if you will, to kill the victim, Major Conrad Parker. Then, it came to me that none of those men could have possibly known where Parker was or where he was staying. Next, the killer signed the Waldorf-Astoria registry with the name of Adam Henderson. Detective Sergeant Patrick O'Malley eliminated Henderson when after being shown photographs of Henderson hotel staff indicated that he was not the man who registered and stayed in the hotel at the time of the murder. So, another question came up. Who knew the relationship between Parker and Henderson and at the same time had access to Henderson's signature? Then, we have the description of the individual that did sign the register. The description varies, from one of being short, portly, to tall and trim. From my experience of being in the hotel lobby along with the night desk clerk I remember that the man, James Gilligan sat while he worked. Why? Because of a sever bout of sciatica. Therefore, I came to the conclusion, that Mr. Gilligan could not positively know the height or exact weight of the man who signed the register.

That brings us to the murder. The killer first, knew where Parker was and the room number. Second the killer was known to Parker who allowed his killer into room 301.They talked. The killer smoked his pipe as they did. He even emptied the burnt and used tobacco, thought to be a molasses blend into one of the ashtrays in the room. When he tapped the bowl of his pipe he chipped the ashtray. It appears as though the victim sat on the bed. The killer then slashed Parker's throat severing the jugular vein. Parker dies after bleeding to death. Then, the killer with a knowledge of the Plains Indians decided to make it appear that Parker was killed by an American Indian. How? He decides to scalp his victim. However, the mistake he makes is that he does it too neatly. Captain Pratt, an experienced Calvary officer veteran spotted it immediately. A Plains Indian tribe member would have ripped the scalp off, not neatly slice it off. At the same time an Indian would have swung the scalp doing so removed any wet blood. Had that been done, blood would have appeared on the wall and wallpaper behind the bed. There was no blood stains on the wall. Next, still in an attempt to make it look as if the assassin was an Indian, he removed Parkers eyes and severed the index finger on each hand. Once again, in conference with Captain Pratt he indicated that certain tribal members mutilate the body of their enemies so they can not return in the after life and fight again. Therefore, it was the opinion of Captain Pratt that the killer was not an Indian due to the fact that if it had been the mutilation would have been more severe. Then, there is the final remaining clue, the little, red, glass bead found by the chambermaid in the hotel room. Because tobacco ashes were found in an ashtray the thought was that the bead came off of a Cheyenne or Sioux, beaded bag. I was constantly looking for a tobacco pouch. But the bead didn't come from a tobacco pouch. It came from this,” said McKenzie opening up his brief case and removing a knife encased in a beaded sheath.

“Where did that come from?” asked the General

“From Colonel Willett's desk. It's the knife that killed Parker and if you will allow me I'll place in position this red glass bead that I hold between my thumb and forefinger and place it exactly where it's supposed to be on the sheath. You see since I kept searching for a beaded tobacco pouch Colonel Willett felt safe in keeping his knife and the sheath probably because it was a gift from someone. In searching records I came upon a photograph taken on Independence Day and printed in the Fort Robinson post newspaper showing this same exact knife sheath on the hip of Captain Alonzo Willett.”

“This is preposterous! I've never heard such garbage in my entire life. General. I consider this first an insult and second an act of insubordination. I say here and now that I will being charges against this man and demand a court marshal.”

“All in good time Colonel. You do know that you are in dangerous waters, don't you Lieutenant?” asked General Miller.

“I do not consider that to be a fact sir”, McKenzie replied.

“Very well. Go on.” Miller replied.

As the General knows I'm an engineer, not an investigator. However, with the time spent with detective O'Malley I did learn something. It is necessary to ask, What? Why? Where? When? And How? We already know the answer to What. It is the murder of Major Parker. That brings us to why. The answer of why gives us the motive. Major Parker was engaged to Dorothea Willett at Fort Robinson. Parker broke the engagement and later Dorothea Willett was found to have contacted a social disease, namely, gonorrhea. In shame and suffering from depression the young lady committed suicide. That gave Colonel Willett the motive and reason to kill Parker. Next, is the question of where? Who possibly could know the location of every member of the United States Army? The answer is the Adjutant to the Commanding Officer of The Atlantic Military Division. He would know Parker's assignments and where he would be staying. Be that as it may. The Colonel had first hand knowledge of Private Henderson's flogging ordered by Parker at the time.

He also had the ability to see and read Henderson's repeated requests for a pension. As a result he was able to practice signing that name over and over until it seemed to be exact. Then after the discovery of the body Colonel Willett had to know how much the New York City Police knew about the case. Enter, yours truly. I was sent to New York repeatedly and in my opinion only so the Colonel could ascertain what progress was being made in the case. I was sent to Dallas Texas, Pennsylvania, Oklahoma, and Montana in an attempt to gather information. Each time I returned. I was ordered back to New York City and required to report what the police there had in relation to the murder.

“And so General, that's my report. You have the murder weapon and I submit that Colonel Willett is the perpetrator.”

“And I say that you are under arrest for if nothing else, insubordination!”, shouted Willett.

“Enough! There will be no arrest. Colonel remove yourself

from my office!”, ordered General Miller.

After Willett left General Miller said, “Lieutenant as I understand it, you're staying at Fort Myer. Is that correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Do you have any plans for this evening?”

“No sir'.

“Good should anyone ask you, I confined you to quarters. Nonetheless, come see me at ten o'clock tomorrow morning.'

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

Command Decision

 

The next morning McKenzie walked the red, yellow and orange leaf covered sidewalk that led to the Headquarters of General Thomas Miller. A slight breeze blew and it carried a chill as if it was warning of the winter to come. He walked up the steps and into the building returning salutes from posted sentry's. He expected to see Colonel Willett and face his wrath, but Willett was not in his office. “Where's the Colonel?”, asked McKenzie to the sergeant seated at another desk.

“The Colonel is under the weather today sir. He telephoned and said that he wouldn't be on duty today”.

“I have a ten o'clock appointment to see General Miller. Would you let him know that I'm here?”

“Yes sir. One moment sir”.

Three minutes later the sergeant stood in the open doorway of General Miller's office and said, “The General will see you now sir.”

“Thank you”, McKenzie replied as he walked into the room. “Good morning Sir”, he said to the General.

“Good morning Lieutenant. I was just about to have a cup of coffee. Will you join me?”

“I'd be honored sir”.

“Let's you and I just sit and relax, enjoy our coffee and talk as two soldiers. Is that alright with you?”

“Certainly sir.”

“Good, good. Do you prefer cream in your coffee?”

“No sir.”

“Sugar perhaps?”

“No sir, black is fine”.

“Alright then, have a seat.

McKenzie carried his cup and saucer to a chair next to a table. There he placed the coffee china on the table and waited for the General to sit down. When he did Alan took a seat.

“Now then, let me get right to the point Alan. It is Alan, isn't it?”

“Yes sir”.

“Fine. Let me get right to the point. As a graduate of West Point, is it your desire to make the army a career?”

“Yes sir, I do”.

“Excellent. Now, what I'm about to tell you can be considered a military secret. It it goes no further then from this room. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“The truth is, within the next three to six months we will be at war with Spain. Admiral Dewey will receive orders to take his Pacific Squadron to the Philippines where he will attack and destroy the Spanish Fleet. You see Lieutenant, President McKinley wants this war which means neither you or I can do a thing to prevent it. When the war does come the President will call for volunteers. Right now our standing army is at thirty five thousand. The army will need troops, troops to fight in Cuba and any other Spanish possessions that we have to invade. As we seek volunteers, the army does not need the news press running stories of an army Major seducing young women or a depressed army colonel killing another army officer in revenge for his daughters death. At the same time, we do not need the press to run negative stories reminding the citizens of this nation of the Battle of The Washita, The Custer Disaster or Wounded Knee.

Stories of that nature show the army as callous killers of men, woman and children. I'm sure that you will agree that such bad publicity given to the army would be detrimental to nation wide recruiting. Also, keep in mind that in any war there is a great need for competent field officers. Colonel Willett is one that comes to mind. So, what I'm saying Alan is this. I want you to know that you've done an excellent job in answering the question of just who killed Major Parker. However, let's face it we both know that Conrad Parker was a no good son of a bitch and deserved to die. And, we both know that if we were in Colonel Willett's place we would have probably done the same.

Now, I'm suggesting this. Just who killed Major Parker remains between Colonel Willett, me and you.

I have prepared two orders regarding you. First, you are now promoted to Captain. Second, after thirty days leave you will be transferred to San Francisco.”

“I thank you for the promotion sir, but why San Francisco? I thought I'd go back to Texas and finish constructing heavy gun emplacements.”

“San Francisco places you far away from the Eastern Newspapers in case one day some reporter remembers Parker's murder. And, I'm almost certain you will be building gun emplacements in and around Manila Harbor. My last and final question to you Alan is are you in agreement for what I propose?”

“For the good of the army? Yes sir”.

“Excellent, excellent.”.

“Now, I suggest you pack, enjoy your leave and when you get there, San Francisco.”

“There might be one other problem sir.”

“And what would that be?”

“The New York City Police and Detective Sergeant O'Malley.”

“I believe that a sum payment of a years salary would have Sergeant O'Malley close an unsolved case. Don't you?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then I wish you good luck in your new assgnment and congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thank you General”.

“You're dismissed”.

On a cold, sunny morning, Captain Alan McKenzie met with the Indian Agent John Chambers and asked him the location of Charles Lean Bear. After being told where the man was and given directions McKenzie made his way along a path leading to a cabin where the Cheyenne carpenter was building a new barn. Charles Lean Bear came down off of a ladder and placed a hammer on a keg of nails. Looking at McKenzie he said, “I see you have returned. And since you are here you must want to talk with me again. I have nothing new to tell you.”

“I came to tell you Charles that after today you will probably never see me again. The reason I am here is to show you something.” McKenzie reached into his jacket pocket and removed a newspaper clipping which contained the photograph of Conrad Parker, Dorothea Willett and her father, Alonzo Willett. “See if you can remember this man,” said McKenzie pointing to Parker.

“It is him. Is he the one that is dead, the one the one you asked me about months ago?”

“Yes.”

“In the picture his hair and beard appear black. I know it as red, bright red, but still it is him.”

“Good. I came here Charles to show this and hopefully to give you peace. Conrad Parker is dead. In a way your mother's death is revenged, not by you, but by someone who Parker also offended.”

“Thank you. Knowing this now brings me satisfaction”, said Charles Lean Bear as he shook McKenzie's hand.

*********************************

On a cold, December night on the open prairie Avanaco looked up at the dark, cloudless, starlit sky at the Milky Way and sang a prayer song. “Hear me Ma' heo' o. My enemy is dead. From this day I will hate no more. Hear me my mother Nandita who lives again in Seana, the camp of the dead. The one who took your life, is no more. Then he sang to his dead father, Occunnowhurt (Yellow Wolf) the song of victory and the song of a warrior.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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