The Secret of Shadow Ranch Page 3

  The next instant an unearthly shriek split the air and someone seized her!

  CHAPTER IV

  A Red Clue

  NANCY jerked one arm free from the attacker and fumbled for a light switch. Her fingers found it and the ceiling lamp over the dining table went on.

  Clinging to her was Mrs. Thurmond, the cook! She wore an old-fashioned nightgown, and her head bristled with curlers. She let go of Nancy like a hot branding iron.

  “You!” she exclaimed.

  “Yes me,” Nancy replied, suppressing a smile. “I’m as surprised as you are, Mrs. Thurmond.”

  “What’s the matter?” demanded Ed Rawley as he and his wife, wearing robes and slippers, hurried in from the living room.

  Then Bess and George ran in from the portico, with Alice behind them. “Nancy! You all right?”

  Soon Walt Sanders, in night clothes, rushed into the kitchen. A moment later Tex and Bud dumped in. Nancy wondered where Dave and Shorty were.

  “Bud and I were on watch,” said the red-haired cowboy, “and were checkin’ the stable when we heard the ruckus. What’s up?”

  Mrs. Thurmond told her story. She had been asleep in her room, a small extension off the kitchen, when she had been awakened by someone coming into the kitchen through the screen door.

  “I sleep light,” she explained. “First I was afraid to move. I listened hard, but I didn’t hear anything more, so I decided to get up and take a look. Just as I stepped out of my room, what do I see but the screen door opening and a dark figure steps in! So I jumped him and hollered.”

  Nancy smiled. “And I was ‘him.’ ” Then she added, “There was an intruder here, Mrs. Thurmond, because I saw him come in.”

  “He must have gone into the living room, then,” said Mrs. Rawley. “There’s no other way out.”

  Mrs. Thurmond shook her head. “No, ma’am,” she said forcefully. “That door to the living room squeaks and I didn’t hear a sound.”

  George moved the door and the hinges made a noise.

  “Then where did the intruder go?” Bess asked shakily.

  Nancy’s keen eyes had spotted a trap door beside the old-fashioned stove. “Perhaps down there.”

  “If he did,” Ed Rawley said grimly, “he’s caught. That’s the cellar and this is the only way out. Dave,” he ordered, looking beyond Nancy, “come with me.”

  From behind her stepped the tall cowboy. He was fully dressed and carrying a flashlight. She turned and saw Shorty Steele standing just inside the screen door. He, too, was in his working clothes. When had they arrived? And why hadn’t they gone to bed after coming off patrol duty?

  As Ed Rawley lifted up the trap door, Nancy said, “I’d like to go, too, Uncle Ed.”

  The man hesitated, then said, “All right, but you stay well behind us.”

  The cowboy turned on his flashlight and Nancy followed the men down a flight of wooden stairs. She found herself in a shallow cellar which was empty except for a row of shelves against one wall.

  At Nancy’s request Dave held his light downward so she could look for footprints. But the earth floor was hard-packed and she could see no marks on it.

  When the trio returned to the kitchen and reported no sign of the intruder, the cook shook her head. “He was a phantom,” she declared, “just like that horse.”

  “Now, Mrs. Thurmond,” said Aunt Bet, “maybe you were so excited you didn’t hear the intruder go through the living-room door.”

  The little woman looked indignant. “I have excellent hearing,” she stated, “and that door positively did not squeak.” Nancy found it hard to doubt Mrs. Thurmond’s word.

  The young sleuth turned to Dave. “Did you just come from the bunkhouse?”

  “No,” Dave said quietly. “I was doing some extra investigating.”

  “Whatever that means,” Nancy thought. She noted that Shorty had said nothing.

  Mr. Rawley did not query the men. A few minutes later everyone went back to bed except Tex and Bud.

  Nancy awoke at dawn and puzzled over the problem. Who was the intruder? What was he after? Where had he gone? Quietly she arose and dressed, then went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.

  Not wanting to heat the big kettle of water which stood on the old-fashioned range, she took a small pot from a hook on the wall and carried it to the sink. She turned one of the faucet handles, but no water came out. Surprised, Nancy tried the other, with the same result. “That’s strange. I’ll ask the girls about it.”

  She hurried to the bedroom and woke them. Bess and George said this had not happened before and George went to tell her aunt and uncle.

  In a short time the hastily dressed rancher appeared, completely puzzled. He led the way past the stable and the corral to a small frame shed. Inside were an electric generator and pump.

  After examining the machinery, Ed Rawley said one grim word, “Sabotage!” He showed the girls where some of the bearings were missing. “We’ll need new ones before we can have any water.”

  “It’s a shame!” George declared. “When do you think this mischief was done? And where were the guards?”

  “What difference does it make?” her uncle said with a sigh. “The men can’t be everywhere at once.”

  “What about Chief?” Nancy asked. “He didn’t bark at the saboteur. Does this mean he knows him?”

  Ed Rawley’s jaw tightened. “I’d trust Sanders, Bud, and Dave with my life. They came highly recommended by friends of mine. As for the others, I accuse no man without proof.”

  “Nor would I,” Nancy said quietly, and began looking for evidence. On the wooden floor were damp daubs of red earth. Outside the building was a wet patch of the same color, but the prints were too confused to be distinguishable.

  “Whoever damaged the pump may still have this kind of mud on his boots,” Nancy thought.

  The rancher’s face was gray with worry. “This pump will have to be fixed as soon as possible. After the windmill in the east meadow was wrecked, I had to start using this pump, which only supplied the house, to water my cattle. There’s another mill in the big meadow, but its supply is not enough for them. We’re lucky to have one other source of spring water.”

  The three girls volunteered to carry water to the kitchen. They went to get buckets from Mrs. Thurmond, who was pale and tight-lipped. She handed them kettles and large pots. Bess led the way around the house to the spring house, a windowless adobe structure built onto the back wall of the kitchen.

  George opened the heavy wooden door and the girls stepped down onto an earthen floor. It was cool and so dim they could barely see the small stream of water coming from a pipe in the center.

  While waiting her turn to fill her kettle, Nancy went outside to look around. She saw that between the ranch house and the foot of Shadow Mountain ran a heavy strip of woods which continued along the big meadow.

  “That’s where the phantom horse is supposed to appear,” Nancy reflected.

  Just then Bess came from the spring house. “Your turn, Nancy,” she called.

  The young sleuth hurried inside and placed her kettle under the stream of water. While waiting for it to fill she noticed a stone vat against the kitchen wall. It was about three feet square with a hinged wooden lid. “That’s where the old-timers stored milk products and eggs,” she thought.

  When Nancy reached the kitchen with her full kettle, Mrs. Thurmond was serving breakfast. As the girls sat down, Dave and Shorty came in. Nancy glanced at their boots. There was damp red mud on both pairs!

  As soon as the men finished eating, Dave stood up. “I’m going to Tumbleweed to get pump bearings,” he said to Nancy. “Mr. Rawley said you wanted to do an errand in town. You can ride along with me.”

  Nancy was glad the sheriff had not been mentioned. She said, “I’ll go, thank you, and I’ll bring George.”

  Dave scowled. “I’ll be in the pickup,” he replied abruptly and walked out.

  Nancy hurried to her room to get the
warning notes and the rattle. The pickup was parked in the yard, and as soon as Nancy and George had climbed into the cab, Dave started it.

  Without saying a word, he drove out the ranch gate and turned onto a dirt road which stretched down the valley. The girls appeared to be relaxed, but they could not rid their minds of a distrust of Dave.

  Once he caught Nancy looking at his shoes. “Yes, Miss Detective,” he said, “that’s mud from outside the pump house. I was up before dawn this morning, and thought I heard a noise there. I didn’t find anyone, though. Must have scared off the pump-wrecker, but he came back later.”

  George asked why Dave was up so early, but he did not answer or speak again until they reached a small town of old-fashioned frame buildings. The cowboy parked the pickup on the main street.

  “I’ll meet you here in half an hour,” he said as he swung out of the truck. Nancy and George saw him go into a hardware store several doors away. Before them was a building with a sign: SHERIFF.

  As the girls entered the small office a gray-haired man swiveled around in his chair and rose to greet them. “I reckon you’re Miss Drew,” he said in a pleasant drawl. “I’m Sheriff Curtis.” His eyes twinkled. “Ed Rawley told me you’re aimin’ to help him find what’s causin’ the trouble at the ranch.”

  George spoke up. “And Nancy will, too.”

  “I sure wish you luck.”

  After hearing Nancy’s story and looking at the notes and rattle, he said, “I’ll hang on to these as evidence and phone the state and Phoenix law-men to keep an eye out for the hombre you saw at the airport. Keep me posted,” he added gravely, “and be extra careful, girls.”

  Nancy thanked him and the callers left. They still had twenty minutes to spare. George said she wanted to purchase a cowboy kerchief in the general store, so Nancy strolled along looking in shop-windows. The town seemed almost deserted and many of the stores were not yet open.

  Ahead, in the center of the street, grew a large cottonwood tree with a wooden bench built around the trunk. Nancy walked to it and was about to sit in the shade, when her eye was caught by a tall stack of Indian baskets outside the shop marked: MARY DEER—GIFTS.

  Nancy crossed over to look at them, then glanced through the window. Startled at what she saw, Nancy almost cried out. The shop was empty, except for a man with a black kerchief covering his face to the eyes. He was crouching in front of an open glass case, scooping jewelry into a paper bag!

  Heart pounding, Nancy looked up and down the street for help. But there was no one in sight. Boldly she stepped to the open door of the shop.

  “Drop that bag!” she ordered.

  With a startled gasp the man whirled, then charged straight at her.

  CHAPTER V

  Desperado’s Gift

  THINKING quickly, Nancy jumped aside and toppled the tower of baskets into the thief’s path. With a cry he stumbled among them and pitched forward, the bag of loot flying from his hand.

  “Help!” shouted Nancy as she ran into the street and picked up the paper bag. “Sheriff!”

  The man scrambled to his feet, and kicking the baskets aside, darted into a narrow passage between two stores.

  At the same time, a young Indian girl and a man ran from the coffee shop next door.

  “What happened?” cried the girl. “I’m Mary Deer.” Quickly Nancy told her about the thief. “My shop—robbed!” she exclaimed.

  “Almost robbed,” said Nancy, smiling and handing over the brown paper bag. As the girl thanked her warmly, George, Dave, Sheriff Curtis, and a few merchants ran up. Nancy repeated her story rapidly and described the thief. “He wore a black kerchief over his nose and mouth, was in shirt sleeves, and had on dark trousers.”

  As the men dashed into the passage where he had vanished, Nancy turned to the Indian girl. She was wearing a vivid red beaded dress and had a glossy black braid over each shoulder. Nancy introduced herself and George.

  Gratefully Mary Deer said, “You were wonderful to get this back for me, Nancy. I would like to give you a reward.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’m glad I could help.”

  Mary Deer invited the girls into the shop, which was cool and smelled of leather goods. To one side stood a long glass case containing shelves of jewelry. One front panel was open and a shelf was empty.

  “There’s no lock on the case,” Mary explained. “I guess I shouldn’t have left the shop open, but I never expect customers this early.” Then she added, “Where are you from? You don’t sound like a Westerner.”

  Nancy explained that she was a visitor at Shadow Ranch.

  The Indian girl smiled. “Then I have the perfect reward for you.” She reached into the paper bag and took out a small gold object. It was a lady’s old-fashioned watch on a fleur-de-lis pin.

  “How beautifull” Nancy exclaimed. “But I can’t accept it. Surely you can sell the watch.”

  Mary Deer shook her head. “This is not for sale. I had it on display in my antique jewelry case. Since you are from Shadow Ranch, it shall be yours.”

  “But what has the ranch to do with it?” Nancy asked, curious.

  The Indian girl explained that the watch had been a gift to Frances Humber from her outlaw sweetheart. “Here is his initial,” she said, and pointed to a “V” and the date, June, 1880, inscribed on the back lid. Then she turned the watch over and showed Nancy a heart inscribed on the front. “That was Valentine’s symbol,” said Mary Deer. “Legend says he used it on personal belongings like his belt buckle and rings—even the brand on his horse was a heart.”

  “He sounds like a romantic man,” remarked Nancy.

  Mary agreed. “He left Frances a treasure,” she went on, “but she never received it.”

  “A treasure?” Nancy said. “What was it?”

  Mary shrugged. “Valentine’s will merely stated that his personal fortune was to go to Frances and her heirs. The will did not tell where or what the treasure was. Some believe it was hidden on Shadow Ranch.”

  Nancy’s heart leaped with excitement. Maybe this could explain the sabotage at the ranch! “Someone wants to force the Rawleys off the property in order to search for the treasure,” she thought.

  “Do many people know about this?” George asked.

  “Nearly everybody around here has heard Valentine’s story, except the part about the treasure being hidden on the ranch, which is something that only a few old-timers believed.” Mary shook her head. “I doubt that the present owners of Shadow Ranch have ever heard about it.”

  Carefully Nancy examined the gold watch. Perhaps there was a clue to the treasure in it! She pressed her nail against the edge and opened the lid, revealing the worn face of the watch.

  “It still works,” said Mary. “The back lid opens, too.”

  Nancy was disappointed to find that there was no picture or inscription inside either place.

  “Where did you get the watch?” she asked.

  “It was in a box of things I bought at an auction,” the Indian girl replied. She explained that the items had belonged to an old resident of Tumbleweed, Miss Melody Phillips, who had been a girlhood friend of Frances Humber. “She died in the East, and her parents, who still lived on the ranch, gave these mementos to Miss Melody. I know this history because it was written on the cover of the box.”

  “Do you still have that?” Nancy asked eagerly.

  The Indian girl shook her head regretfully. “I threw the box and the other items away since they were worthless. You must take the watch, Nancy,” she added earnestly. “Please.”

  Not wanting to hurt the girl’s feelings, Nancy consented. As she was thanking her, Dave strode into the store. He reported that the thief had not been caught. “Sheriff says he’ll keep an eye out for him, Mary.”

  “That’s good,” the young shop owner said, then showed Dave the watch. “I’m giving this to Nancy,” she added, and repeated the history of the timepiece.

  Dave seemed to be interested and examined the watch
closely. When he returned it, Mary pinned it shyly to Nancy’s blouse.

  As the girls were leaving the shop with Dave, Nancy noticed a small pastel drawing propped up on the counter. “What a beautiful scenel” she remarked.

  Mary said it was the work of an artist who lived on Shadow Mountain. Struck by the lovely Western landscape, Nancy bought the picture.

  When the group walked outside, Nancy saw a tall man in black jacket and pants seated on the bench under the cottonwood tree. He wore a black ten-gallon hat, and his light-brown eyes followed Nancy as she passed him. It seemed to her that his gaze was fastened on the watch. Could he be the frustrated thief?

  “He might have left his coat and hat somewhere,” Nancy reasoned, “and put them on again after his escape. But why should he be interested in the watch, unless he’s after the Humber treasure and hoped to find a clue in it?”

  As Dave drove out of town, Nancy saw the tall stranger staring after them. “The name of the ranch is on the side of the truck,” she thought uneasily. “If that man is after this watch, he’ll know just where to find me!”

  Halfway to the ranch, the girls pointed out Indian cliff dwellings high on the mountain slope. Nancy asked if this was the area once owned by the Humbers and Dave nodded.

  “Good place to look for curios like pieces of pottery,” George remarked.

  “You girls stay away from there!” he advised sharply. When Nancy asked why, Dave explained that the stairs leading up from the valley floor were worn and broken. “Very dangerous,” he said.

  When they reached the ranch, Dave parked the truck at the stable. The girls heard laughter coming from the corral and saw Tex Britten perched on the fence. Bess was mounted on a brown quarter horse and holding a coiled lariat.

  “Watch me!” she called. “I’m learning to rope a steer.”

  Nancy and George walked over and saw Bud Moore put his hands on his head like horns and prance in front of Bess’s horse. “Come on and rope me, pardner!” he said.