Buffalo Bill Wanted! by Alex Simmons

railing and looked down onto the tracks below. Maybe a train will come by, he thought, and cover the whole bridge in a cloud of steam. Would that be like flying in a cloud?
    His daydream stopped when he caught a glimpse of yellow and white on the embankment just behind the stable. The ground that sloped down to the tracks was covered with small stones and gravel. A spindly bush had managed to push its way to sunlight. Whatever it was—a book or magazine—had caught under a branch.
    Dooley could see it was beyond his reach. Maybe he could climb over and grab it. But someone might see him, or, worse yet, he might roll down the steep hillside right into the path of an oncoming train. Then he remembered the pitchfork leaning against one of the stable stalls.
    In a flash, Dooley grabbed the tool and returned to the bridge. Jennie never noticed him as she poked around for clues three stalls down.
    Leaning as far as he could, Dooley reached out with the pitchfork. Holding it by the very end of the handle, he eased one of the fork’s prongs between the pages. The magazine folded over the prong as Dooley slowly lifted up the tool and pulled it back toward him.
    Just as he brought the pitchfork over the stone wall of the bridge, the magazine started to slip off the prong. Dooley quickly yanked back with one hand and reached over the railing with the other to grab the publication just as it fell.
    It was in fairly good condition, medium-sized with a softbound yellow cover. Dooley couldn’t read the title or any of the other words on the cover or inside, but a picture caught his eye.
    The illustration on the front showed British constables capturing a hard-looking ruffian. A quick glimpse at the first few pages revealed similar illustrations of criminal types and police officers.
    Suddenly, he heard Jennie let out a small, sharp cry. Tucking the magazine inside his shirt, he snatched up the pitchfork and ran into the stable. He found Jennie in a stall, backing away from a rough-looking man in a checked shirt as he demanded, “What are you doing here?”
    Dooley immediately recognized Zeke Black, the roustabout who had caught them sneaking into the show. “Get away from her!” he cried, charging forward.
    Zeke batted the prongs away from his body, then grabbed the pole. Dooley tried to hold on in spite of being flung about. The pitchfork twisted out of his hands as he stumbled back into Jennie. Zeke had spun him around. Now they were both trapped in the stall. The big man loomed over them, pitchfork in hand. “What are both of you brats doing back here?”
    â€œWe’re just looking around,” Jennie tried to explain. “We’ve never seen anything like this before—”
    â€œSeems you’re always looking around and asking questions,” Zeke growled. “Funny thing happens to nosy people. They usually get their noses broken.”
    Before Zeke could take another step, a voice rang out behind him.
    â€œThere they are!”
    Dooley let out a long breath when Wiggins and Owens walked up to the stall. It was even better to see Colonel Cody and Chief Tall-Like-Oak behind them.
    â€œWe keep running into you,” Wiggins said, stepping between Jennie and Zeke. “Funny, ain’t it?”
    â€œIs there a problem here, Zeke?” Cody asked his employee.
    â€œEvery time I turn around, I catch these kids sneaking round the place,” Zeke growled.
    â€œThey’re running errands for me now, so they can come and go as they please,” Colonel Cody said.
    Zeke stared hard at Wiggins. “Odd how bad things seem to happen when they’re around—that copper nearly gets killed, Silent Eagle gets arrested, then that man Pryke—”
    â€œWe didn’t do none of those things,” Dooley shouted. “In fact, we’re trying—”
    â€œTo stay out of trouble,” Wiggins interrupted. “That’s why we’re running errands