148 On The Trail Of Trouble Read online

  Brady.”

  Nancy watched warily as the truck screeched to a

  halt, flinging pebbles and dust in all directions. The

  driver's door shot open, and a man jumped out, his face

  red and sweaty. In his right hand he carried an ax.

  “Brady!” Bill Turner called from behind Nancy.

  “Get off my property. Now!”

  “Not until you pay for what you've done,” the

  intruder said. “You told everybody I'm a rustler. It's a

  lie and you're not getting away with it.”

  Nancy and the others watched in horror as Brady

  lunged toward Mr. Turner, swinging the ax.

  7. A Mountain Menace

  Nancy gasped as Badger Brady swung the ax at Bill

  Turner. Mr. Turner ducked, yelling, “Brady! Get hold

  of yourself, man. You're going to kill somebody with

  that thing.”

  From the corner of her eye, Nancy could see the

  kitchen window. Framed in the window was Mrs.

  Turner, speaking frantically into the phone. Nancy

  hoped she was calling the sheriff for help.

  “You have to pay, Turner,” Brady yelled. “You have

  to pay for spreading those lies. I didn't rustle your

  stock. You've got no proof I did.” He swung the ax in a

  broad sweep at Mr. Turner's head.

  “Dad!” Kincaid yelled. “Watch out!”

  Turner ducked again, barely escaping the weapon's

  rusty blade. “Get back, Kincaid,” Mr. Turner said. “All

  of you—get out of the way.”

  Nancy, Bess, George, and Kincaid moved back

  toward the house. Clayton stayed near Mr. Turner, his

  arms up in a defensive position.

  Nancy looked around for something that could help.

  Behind her she saw a thick rope, coiled and lying

  against the house. Slowly she backed up until she felt

  the coil against her boot heel. Holding her breath, she

  reached down and grasped it.

  Gripping the rope behind her, she slowly walked

  around until she was out of Badger Brady's direct

  sightline. She caught Clayton's eye and nodded. Then,

  in one swift motion, she threw the coiled rope. Her aim

  was perfect, and she hit the ax squarely, knocking it out

  of Brady's hand.

  At the same moment Clayton rushed for the ax and

  grabbed it up from the dusty drive. Mr. Turner

  lowered his head and butted Badger Brady in the

  midriff. With a “whoooff,” Badger sailed backward and

  landed hard on the ground. Groaning, he tried to

  scramble back up, but he was too slow.

  Mr. Turner grabbed Badger and stood him up

  against a tree. Working together, Mr. Turner and

  Clayton tied Badger Brady to the tree with the rope

  Nancy had hurled. Kincaid took the ax and leaned it

  against the step leading up to the porch.

  “Matt will be right here,” Melissa Turner said,

  joining the rest. “He's just a few miles down the road

  on another call.” She looked around, asking, “Is

  everyone okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks to Nancy,” Clayton said, putting an

  arm around Nancy's shoulder. “Pretty gutsy move,

  throwing that rope. You're not a softball pitcher by any

  chance, are you? You put that one right over the plate.”

  “I've pitched in a few games,” Nancy said, smiling.

  “I'm just glad no one was hurt.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Badger Brady grumbled. He

  moaned again as he pulled against his restraints.

  “Shut up, Brady,” Mr. Turner said. “You're not going

  to get any sympathy here.”

  Nancy sat on the porch swing and took a deep

  breath. Clayton, Kincaid, and Mr. Turner were arguing

  with Badger Brady. George and Bess stood by,

  listening.

  “Thank goodness you knocked the ax away, Nancy,”

  Mrs. Turner said as she stepped up onto the porch.

  “Kincaid was right,” Nancy said. “Badger Brady's

  pretty nasty.”

  “Do you think he was the one who made the

  threatening phone call?” Mrs. Turner asked.

  “I was just thinking about that,” Nancy answered. “I

  really couldn't tell. The person on the phone

  whispered. Badger Brady has been yelling since he got

  here. I thought the caller had some sort of accent or

  unusual speech pattern, but it might have been faked.

  It's kind of hard to compare a whisper to Brady's angry

  hollering.”

  “I'll remind Matt about the phone call,” Mrs. Turner

  said. “If Badger did make it, I doubt that he'd admit it.”

  “I agree,” Nancy said. “It sure would help if I could

  hear him over the phone.”

  “I'll talk to Matt,” Mrs. Turner said. “He can set up a

  phone call between you two. Here he comes now,” she

  added, stepping off the porch.

  Sheriff Matt Switzer and his deputy drove up and

  stopped near the tree where Badger Brady was tied.

  “Hey, folks,” the sheriff said. “Looks like you didn't

  need my help after all.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Turner told the sheriff what had

  happened, with Kincaid and Clayton adding details.

  When they finished, the sheriff smiled at Nancy, Bess,

  and George, who were sitting on the porch.

  “I see you're still helping us out,” he said.

  “That reminds me, Sheriff,” Nancy said, stepping off

  the porch. “Have you made any connection with that

  hubcap we found yet? Or the tire tracks?”

  “No, we haven't,” the sheriff said with a narrow

  smile. “But we're working on it.”

  The sheriff untied Badger Brady. Then he put

  handcuffs on his wrists, arresting him for trespass and

  assault with a deadly weapon. “We are going to get to

  the bottom of this rustling, Bill,” Sheriff Switzer said as

  he loaded Badger into the backseat of his cruiser. Then

  he drove off, followed by the deputy driving Badger's

  truck.

  “Well, Clayton, I hope you're staying for supper,”

  Mrs. Turner said with a sigh.

  “You bet, Mrs. Turner,” Clayton said, brushing off

  his jeans. “It's been a while since I've had some of your

  good cooking.”

  At an early supper the Turners, Nancy, Bess,

  George, and Clayton talked over the confrontation with

  Badger Brady. The girls also told Kincaid's parents

  about their experience at Antoinette Francoeur's press

  conference.

  “So, what are all you detectives doing tomorrow?”

  Clayton asked as the girls walked him to his car. “Off

  on another search for clues?”

  “I want to go out to Badger Brady's ranch and check

  it out,” Nancy said.

  “Whew,” Clayton said, shaking his head. “You don't

  mess around, do you. You're going straight into the

  badger's den, right?”

  “Actually, it should be pretty safe,” Nancy said with

  a smile. “Brady will probably still be in jail.”

  “Did you say his place was located next to the

  Badlands?” Bess asked Kincaid.

  “It is,” Clayton said, jumping in. “And I'll be glad to

  drive you out there. I know just wh
ere Badger's place

  is. I've been on digs in that area.”

  “There's been incredible prehistoric stuff found

  around there,” Kincaid said.

  “I love that name—Badlands,” George said. “Where

  is it exactly? And who named it?”

  “It's an area about sixty miles east of here,” Kincaid

  answered. “The Native Americans named it Mako Sica,

  which means Badlands.' The area is famous all over

  the world among archaeologists, paleontologists, and

  geologists—” Kincaid said.

  “It's the best fossil bed for the Oligocene period,”

  Clayton interrupted. His enthusiasm was contagious.

  “That's about thirty million years ago. They've found all

  kinds of stuff out there—saber-toothed cats, miniature

  camels, and horses—”

  “And the best of all,” Kincaid said, her eyes wide,

  smiling at Clayton.

  “The titanotheres,” Clayton said, grinning. “He was

  awesome.”

  “I've never heard of the titan-o-whatever you said,”

  Bess said. “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely,” Kincaid said. “It was gigantic, a real

  monster. It kind of resembled a rhinoceros.”

  “Not something you want to run into on a dark

  night,” Bess said with a shudder. “Or even in the

  daytime, for that matter.”

  “I'll definitely drive you there,” Clayton said. “It'll be

  fun to snoop around for clues.”

  “Great,” Nancy said. “Come by about noon. I've got

  some things to do in the morning.” She was sure

  Clayton would be a great guide.

  “See you then,” Clayton said. With a big wave, he

  drove off.

  Kincaid walked the others back to the guest cabin.

  “Nancy, let's go back out to Beauforêt tonight,” she

  said. “I was thinking about it all through supper. It'll be

  light until eight-thirty, and I figured out a way to sneak

  in.”

  Kincaid walked to the small desk and spread out a

  map of the Black Hills. “Here's the Mount Rushmore

  Memorial,” she said, pointing to a spot on the map. It

  was highlighted by a small picture of the carved heads

  of Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Theodore

  Roosevelt, and Lincoln.

  “Beauforêt is over here,” she continued, sweeping

  her hand over the map. “We can go to the Mount

  Rushmore Visitor Center, then hike through the forest

  a couple of miles to the back of the estate.”

  “We can't park at Mount Rushmore,” Nancy pointed

  out. “If we don't get back before closing time, they'll

  notice the car. Is there somewhere else we can park?”

  Kincaid studied the map. “Clayton's dad is a ranger,

  so Clayton's taken me all over this area,” Kincaid said,

  “to places that the tourists can't get to. I'm sure that if

  we go up this way, we can pick up a ranger

  maintenance road. Then we can go up over the

  mountain—”

  “You mean actually drive up over the presidents'

  heads?” Bess asked, her eyes wide.

  “Well, sort of . . . behind them, actually ... in the

  back,” Kincaid answered with a nod. “Then we can

  stash the car behind a ranger maintenance shed, hike

  down to the visitor facilities, and then over to

  Beauforêt.”

  “Sounds good,” Nancy said. “Let's do it.”

  Kincaid told her parents that she was taking the girls

  for a ride. Then she drove Nancy, Bess, and George

  through Rapid City and out to the Mount Rushmore

  National Memorial. They drove up a two-lane winding

  mountain road through the dense forest and through

  tunnels cut in the mountains. Then they traveled under

  a bridge, climbed up a hairpin curve, and crossed over

  the same bridge.

  “Look, there it is,” Bess said. Through a small

  clearing, the four majestic presidents' heads appeared

  across a canyon. They were white granite and seemed

  to float in the air above the dark pine trees.

  “Here's where the fun part starts,” Kincaid said as

  she turned suddenly. She drove onto a winding trail up

  into the forest. This time it wasn't a real road. They

  were on a miners' road—an unmarked dirt track that

  the original gold miners had used.

  “Have you ever driven this before?” George asked as

  they bounced along.

  “Yes,” Kincaid said. “Sort of. . . Well, not exactly,”

  Kincaid added with a small smile. “But I've ridden over

  it. Clayton was driving. There used to be a lot of gold

  mines here. Most of them are abandoned and have

  been bulldozed over. Some are so well hidden, they'll

  probably never be found.”

  Kincaid's expert maneuvering took them at last to

  the ranger maintenance road. They checked in both

  directions, but could see no one.

  “Let's hope we don't run into anyone,” Nancy said.

  “Keep an eye out, everybody.”

  Although it was still light out, Kincaid had to use her

  headlights because the forest was so thick. Suddenly

  they drove into an area in the middle of the trees that

  had been cleared slightly. They saw a large

  maintenance shed and several all-terrain vehicles.

  Kincaid drove past the maintenance shed. Although

  the trail was shielded by trees, the girls felt as though

  they were riding on top of the world. Through the

  branches, they saw nothing but sky and the other

  mountains in the distance.

  “Where are we?” George asked.

  “We're behind the memorial,” Kincaid said. “Back

  behind the presidents' heads.”

  Nancy felt an unexpected thrill. She knew they were

  taking a big chance sneaking up there, but she had

  confidence in Kincaid's experience on the mountain.

  Kincaid pulled her vehicle off the trail and into the

  woods, stopping it behind a thick curtain of trees. The

  four pulled on their backpacks. Then Kincaid led them

  to a walking trail. A sign with an arrow pointed to the

  Mount Rushmore Visitor Center.

  “You mean we're actually going back to civilization

  again?” George said.

  Nancy looked at the map Kincaid had drawn of their

  planned hike. “Yes, but only for a minute or two. Right,

  Kincaid?”

  “Right,” Kincaid agreed, “and let's get going. I want

  to get to the visitor center before the show begins.”

  Nancy and Kincaid started down the trail, followed by

  Bess and George.

  They arrived at the visitor center in twenty minutes.

  Tourists were everywhere—picking up maps at the

  information center, buying souvenirs at the gift shops,

  looking at the sculptures from viewing terraces, and

  touring the sculptor's preserved studio. Across a

  canyon, the seventy-foot-high sculptures looked back at

  them.

  “Come on,” Kincaid said, starting toward a viewing

  trail off the main viewing terrace. “We can get to

  Beauforêt this way.”

  “Oh, let's stay a minute,” George said. She stood


  staring across the canyon at the sculpted faces.

  “They seem to be gazing back at us, don't they?”

  Bess said.

  “Really,” George agreed. “I had no idea they were so

  big.”

  “Okay, everyone,” Nancy said. “Let's get going. We

  can come back another day and be tourists. Tonight

  we're going to check out Beauforêt.”

  Kincaid looked at Nancy with gratitude. “I just can't

  think of anything else but Justice and Lulu now,” she

  said.

  “I understand,” Nancy said, “and I'd like to get going

  before it gets too dark.” As she spoke, the crowd began

  moving away from the terrace and gathering at the

  elevators and stairs that led down to the amphitheater.

  “They're getting ready for the show,” Kincaid said.

  “It's a perfect time for us to disappear.”

  Single file, they headed up the trail that led to the

  rear of Antoinette Francoeur's estate. Kincaid led the

  way, with Nancy close behind. George offered to be

  last, to make sure they weren't being followed.

  Nancy tried to sidestep twigs so there would be no

  unexpected crackle in the hushed forest. She felt a

  sense of excitement and anticipation as they followed

  the trail through the thick trees.

  It got darker and darker as they moved away from

  the visitor center. Nancy and Kincaid retrieved their

  flashlights from their backpacks.

  Behind them, Nancy could hear faint words and

  music over a sound system. Ahead, there was nothing

  but an occasional rustle as a bird flew through the

  dense branches above them or a small animal

  scampered below.

  Nancy's mind was racing with plans. We should

  head straight for the second barn in case the missing

  buffalo are there, she thought. We also need to check

  the auto barn again. There were cars and trucks that

  hadn't been restored yet. It wouldn't hurt to check

  their hubcaps. Then we could—

  Nancy's thoughts halted instantly when she heard

  the sound and Kincaid stopped abruptly. Nancy threw

  an arm out behind her to motion the others to stop.

  Then she heard the sound again. A few yards ahead of

  them on the trail, someone moved quickly, then

  slowed. Then there was just one step. Then silence.

  For a moment Nancy heard only her own pulse,

  throbbing in her ears. Then she heard another

  footstep. She darted off the path, motioning the others