Sherlock in Cheyenne - The Adventure of the Haunted Canyon

Mr. Holmes had been gone three days. He had left a note that something had come up and that his presence in western Wyoming was required. I got the note since I had been gone on an overnight school outing at an observatory.

Then the knock on the door meant that he had returned.

May I come in my dear boy?

Why of course, Mr. Holmes.

He entered and said – You look hale and hearty. Are you?

Yes, I’m fine.

I have been to western Wyoming because our newspaper had an article about increases in wind speed in that region. The article said the winds were blowing N, E, and S. Of course this peculiarity alerted me to engage in further investigation. Oddly, too, the article informed me that such winds are part of Indian legend.

At the words “Indian legend”, I recalled an article in today’s newspaper. Earlier today, having only the usual to do and being bored, I picked up the newspaper that was in Mr. Holmes armchair. He said the articles especially of interest to us would be on pages 3 or 4. On page 4 I read an article about a haunted canyon in western Wyoming and that it’s being haunted is according to Indian legend. This I related to Mr. Holmes.

Indeed! A coincidence?  - he said and asked as he removed his outer garments, picked up the paper, and sat down in the armchair. In less than a minute he said – This calls for further investigation. After my visit to the West, I became convinced They are at work again on another dastardly plot of worldwide disturbance. I assumed that all that would be needed would be to contact the Air Force. They could stop this latest of Their plans easily enough. At least I assume so since defacing Their ill-gotten gains would not be to their liking.

I had no idea what he was talking about. Actually it was as if he had been talking to the newspaper. Then he realized that an explanation was in order.

He looked up and said – Sorry, my boy, thinking out loud there for a time. You are owed an explanation – It seems They are attempting to hurry along the wind speed with what the Air Force, in my meeting with them, called accelerators.  The already strong west wind enters an accelerator and comes out much stronger and going N, E, and S. The perpetrators of this accelerator program are attempting to increase the wind speed enormously. With my disguise as a representative of a borax storage depot in western Wyoming, I have convinced the Air Force that they could put borax, or a like substance, in the air before the wind is introduced to the accelerators. The accelerators could be damaged. If not sufficiently damaged, what they accelerate would hit objects and deface and them and break glass, break lesser plastics, and so on. I do not think They want to “inherit” damaged goods. So all was proceeding nicely but now comes another Indian legend and about a haunted canyon.

The Indian legend about the west winds was put forth by Them to gain time for further testing. Presumably an Indian legend is not to be taken seriously nor tampered with. So the change in winds becomes only a minor transitory change. You scoff at it, you don’t accept it. You do not check into it.

But now, another Indian legend. This canyon is also in western Wyoming. You must excuse me, my boy, I must head West again to see if there is a link. I can’t delay. He donned his outerwear and was gone.

Two days passed. Then I got a phone call. A phone call from, of all people, from Mr. Holmes.

Hello, Mr. Holmes?

Yes, my boy, it is me. I am here at a town some distance from the canyon. Indians are about the canyon. There is a village called Owl about fifty miles from the canyon. The only occupants of the village are an Indian tribe. They say they have not heard of any legends in connection with this canyon. They aren’t believers in canyons being haunted. There may be ghosts, they say, of individuals. One of the Indians has a brother living in Cheyenne. He is an authority on Indian legends. Do please try to find him. According to the brother here, the brother there is listed in the phonebook under Black Leg.

OK, one moment, I’ll check. Sure enough, he is listed.

Good, ask him about the haunted canyon legend. I’m short of time here. I must be off. I’ll return directly.

Then he hung up.

Wow. A phone call from Sherlock Holmes, real or otherwise, that made my day. Ok, so I call Black Leg, no answer. I pedal over to his address. The landlady says no one has lived in the dump (her word) for many months.

Mr. Holmes returned next day. Before his coat was off, “Black Leg?”

No go. Phone rings and rings. Not at his apartment.

Mr. Holmes said he doubted there could be any legend existing in connection with the canyon. Most probably They were involved here too. The wind accelerators in further western Wyoming were gone. They may have moved Their efforts to this canyon. The canyon is like a box, open at the east end. The Indians have seen what can only be Zeeglers digging cylindrical holes throughout the floor of the canyon.

Zeeglers again! I thought only you and I could see them during frozen moments and you have since seen one at a warehouse and now the Indians can see them.

Yes, they are being more apparent.

Continued Mr. Holmes -  They place into the holes thick metal rods with many dials on one face. They have been seen reaching into the holes and, I suppose, making adjustments. I could not enter the canyon if the Indians were present. I took leave of them and entered by means of a crevice at the west end; there are many such openings at the west end.  I, too, saw Zeeglers at work as already described. The Indians say the Zeeglers are trespassing on tribal land. Many of the Indian on the site are armed with knives. But I suppose those in the village may have rifles. It seems a common enough occurrence. The Indians are hostile and restless. Some want to evict the Zeeglers in a short time. But other Indians are of the opinion that the Zeeglers’ activities are a desecration of the canyon and, being of a serious nature, require counsel with other tribes, those that are part of a loose confederation, I gather, that sprawls across the Plains and into Canada.

All this consulting, I said, could give Them too much time.

Agreed. We must dismiss this tenuous Indian legend aspect and allow the Air Force to aid the Indians.

Hm, I said, could be the Indians would regard Air Force efforts as interference.

Perhaps, but…

Mr. Holmes was interrupted by a pounding at the door. A pounding, not Stephanie’s knock or a salesman.

Hello? I called.

The pounding came again.

Hello, whose there?

More pounding.

Ok, OK, I’m coming. A bomb? Gunned down at close range? Oh well, I opened the door.

As I did, I first saw moccasins, buckskin. Looking up I saw nothing but buckskin covering an Indian. Very tall, a little gray in the black shoulder-length hair.

Holmes in?

Well, yes. May I ask who is calling?

He pushed past me into the room. I could see Mr. Holmes had a revolver at the ready inside his jacket.

I am Black Leg.

Ah, said Mr. Holmes, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.

About what?

Black Leg wasn’t here for chitchat. He seemed apprehensive. He remained standing by Mr. Holmes chair. Mr. Holmes made as if to get up but Black Leg raised his left arm and pushed his open flat palm in the direction of Mr. Holmes. Mr. Holmes remained seated. I was picking up my chair so that Black Leg could sit, but he “pushed” me too.

I have visited with your brother at Owl. People have been saying that the canyon nearby moans and that it is haunted.

That is what you wanted to ask me?

That is all.

The Indian looked a tad less apprehensive and said – No canyon is haunted. There is no Indian story about it.

He went silently to the door, opened it, and left.

Well, said Mr. Holmes, mildly exasperated, that was certainly a short visit.

Long enough for me.

The next day, wonder of wonders, Mr. Holmes gets a phone call!

Mr. Holmes related -  It was the brother of Black Leg. He said the canyon Indians weren’t going to wait for the far-flung tribal elements to convene. For some reason, they felt knives would do the job. They would advance upon the Zeeglers in two days’ time.

I said – All I can think of is what if they knife a Zeegler and he disappears? Or if he doesn’t? The Zeeglers, we know, have pistols or spears. The outcome could be messy.

Ah, yes, “messy”, as you put it.

I simply have no choice, I must return yet again to the canyon. Black Leg’s brother seemed reluctant to proceed against the Zeeglers. I must mention he said the Indians were anxious to be active because the canyon one night was moaning, then screaming, and then screeching. The Indians could not withstand the noise level.

I wished Mr. Holmes good luck and pressed on with my home tasks. Next day I get a phone call from Mr. Holmes. So many phone calls in so little time. Mom seemed uncomfortable about phone use involving canyons and Indians so I only listened on this call and spoke solely in terms of history studies so that I could convince Mom that Mr. Holmes, the tutor, was stranded outside of town but had called to assess my homework progress.

My boy, I am attempting to convince the Indians at hand to wait it out and give the confederation more say in what needs to be done.

 I said - Wilderness Campaign, 1864.

Eh? I believe if sufficient stir up is achieved that the increasing awareness of what They are about will embarrass Them to such an extent that They will cease what I believe is a scheme to extremely enlarge sound patterns to harm individuals far and wide. This is rather better and letting Them have more time I do not now view as critical.

Grant, Sherman, Longstreet, Lee.

See here, are you with me, boy?

Aren’t those the correct answers for my history lesson that you assigned me now that you are stranded outside of town?

I say, you are indisposed to respond other than by use of history items?

Yes, … I am sure the battles of Vicksburg and Shiloh were near rivers.

I understand. American Civil War. I am staying here for the time being. Your test will be most difficult if you persist in answers like these. I assigned you the most significant battles of the British Empire.

He hung up. A sense of humor for Mr. Holmes? Well, stranger things have happened, I suppose.

The account in the newspaper beat the return of Mr. Holmes. The tribal confederation approach was what was needed after all. The initial unknown-to-others testing and shakeout that they needed had been lost. The newspaper reported explosions were heard in the canyon. Holes dug in the canyon floor had been blasted out. No one saw Zeeglers. Indians, knives at the ready, prowled the canyon without incident. The confederation wanted the canyon closed to any entry but by Indians. The Indians of Owl felt that to be acceptable. Knives were put away.

Mr. Holmes returned from his diplomatic mission.

I felt that the upshot of this latest two-prong debacle of Them was the easy-to-see Zeeglers. We had never seen Zeeglers except during frozen moments. Now, besides Mr. Holmes, ordinary Indians can see them, no frozen moment required. Have we entered a new era of our stay here? Have we become less important? Have they more power to display themselves? No frozen moments have occurred since Mr. Holmes returned from the haunted canyon but did he or did he not notify the proper authorities? The Air Force was involved with the accelerators but not the stall that cause Them to detonate to ruin Their instruments of destruction. The authorities were the confederation. Could the Air Force done any better? Still, the Zeeglers are all too obvious now.

They showed up again when they snatched what became “the missing missile part.”