Kansas City Calling

Kansas City Ranger

The Kansas City Ranger slowly gained speed, climbing the long slope beyond the Brule River—the river where John Gannon and James Blue Eagle spent their first days of school together, exploring the land and dreaming about their future beyond South Dakota. Gannon expected his plans for Blue Eagle and Mercury Monet to be tested far beyond Chambers. After all, Center High in nineteen seventeen was an all white school.

John, still standing at his train car window, anxiously looked back at the Brule River for signs of his Indian friend. Moments prior, Blue Eagle had raced alongside John’s train car on Crazy Horse’s big Appaloosa stallion. Every passenger on the train had erupted with excitement as the great horse stumbled, and stumbled again, almost going under the train’s wheels. Blue Eagle had eased his mount off the rails to soft ground just minutes before going over a twenty-foot-high embankment into the Brule River.

Gannon’s throat choked with tension until he saw the horse and rider emerge from the river’s depths, swimming toward shore. John felt the backs of his legs press firmly against his seat as the din of loud voices discussing the Indian’s daring riding swirled about him. The stumbles, the audacious plunge over the cliff … the boldness of it all!

Gannon shook his head. He just had to risk it all! He could have killed himself, but no, a Mandan Indian chief ’s son doesn’t back down from danger. It’s there; it’s a challenge. He’s compelled to do it. I don’t know if Kansas City is ready for him. Ready for him? What about Mercury Monet as well?

The tension wrapped Gannon in a vacuum, momentarily shutting out the excited crowd in his train car. Gannon slowly pushed back in his seat. He rubbed his eyes with both hands. The anxiety drained him like a limp sack. He had so much time invested in his friend—such an important responsibility in his hands. Friendship was one thing; rescuing James Blue Eagle was quite another especially after talking to James’s chief about the son’s future. Tom Gannon had remarked that John’s goal was far bigger than James Blue Eagle, perhaps embracing the future of the last band of native Mandan there in Chambers. Questions now surfaced about his latest plans and their workability.

Were his friend’s feats an omen—a prelude to the new dangers just moving into Kansas City? John had read the Kansas City Star of the previous week, reporting three deaths by a nasty group of men who had been tracked by police from Saint Louis and other towns. This was not in his plans for a happy life in Kansas City. John mentally filed it away as he squirmed to find comfort in his seat. He exhaled hard. Is that what certain humans do best—kill for power and control? What about my plans to introduce two brown-skinned American Indians to Center High School? Are those people going to come after us too? What the hell have I gotten myself into? Maybe Uncle Will has the answers.

A few passengers began changing train cars for myriad reasons, shifting in and out of Gannon’s view. A powerfully built young man in his twenties caught John’s attention as he entered the car, and from his side vision John knew that he chose a seat directly across the aisle. As Gannon turned to look at the man, just settling down from arranging his luggage, the man returned his gaze. John turned away quickly from making direct contact so closely, only to whip his head around for a second look at the powerful face.

The man smiled again and nodded. John’s mouth fell open in disbelief.

“Are you … are you he?” Gannon politely asked.

“I am. I’m Jim. Was that someone you knew out there racing us to the river?”

“Sir,” John asked, somewhat befuddled, “I mean, yes, he’s my best friend. He’s James Blue Eagle.”

“Oh, I know who he is; I’m just surprised that you know him. I shouldn’t be, though; you’re likely coming from the same river town of Chambers back there. And you look to be about the same age.”

John cupped his hand around one ear, straining to hear Jim’s words as the Santa Fe Ranger’s big engine powered its way up the long incline that lay before them.

“It’s pretty noisy,” Jim said. Move over here with me so we can talk. We have several hours before we get to Kansas City. Take the window here, and tell me how you know the Eagles.”