The Secret of Shadow Ranch Read online

  Next, Nancy removed the picture of Valentine and turned it over, so that Dave could see what was written on the back.

  “With the word on your picture, we now have a complete message!” Nancy said excitedly.

  “ ‘Green bottle in cellar,’ ” Dave read. “Surely the treasure would be too large for a bottle. But perhaps it’s a clue to the real thing.”

  “That’s what Nancy figured,” George said, grinning. “Let’s start digging!”

  For half an hour Dave dug and the girls probed the loose dirt for a bottle.

  Suddenly Bess cried out. “I’ve found it!”

  Nancy hurried to her side and pressed in the earth where Bess showed her. Her fingers touched the neck of a bottle with a cap on it.

  Dave came over and spaded carefully around the glass. When it was partly free, Nancy said, “Wait!” She brushed the dirt from the large bottle and shone her light on it. Bess exclaimed in disappointment. The bottle was black.

  “No use bothering with that,” Nancy said. “We’re looking for a green one. This has been lying here for years and gradually became covered with dirt.”

  With grim determination the treasure hunters continued to dig and sift the earth. When they had worked over the whole cellar floor, the four stopped, exhausted, and sat down.

  Bess expressed the thought that was in all of their minds. “Maybe someone has found it already.”

  “Shorty, perhaps,” Dave said. “I’ve caught him snooping.” He told the girls that he suspected the other cowboy of knowing about the secret entrance and of inflicting damage on the ranch. “I’m sure he’s not working alone, either, but who else is in league with him I don’t know.”

  Nancy pointed out that if Shorty and his accomplices had found the treasure, they would have left the ranch by this time.

  The young detective said, “There’s another person who might have found the bottle—Frances Humber herself. What do you know of her story, Dave?”

  “Only that Dirk Valentine and Frances had met only once on Shadow Ranch. He sent her a message that he was coming and Frances slipped out of the house through the secret entrance and met him in the spring house. But the law was after Valentine as usual and he had to leave the territory. He wrote to Frances, however, during the summer of 1880, but her father intercepted the letter and sent Frances to friends in Montana.

  “Then Valentine probably hid the bottle in the cellar while Frances was away, and sent her the watch with the location of the bottle written on the backs of the pictures.”

  “That’s right,” Bess declared. “The date on the watch is June, 1880.”

  Dave went on to say that Frances must have written to Valentine and told him on what day she would return, for that night the outlaw sneaked onto the ranch to see her.

  “But the sheriff and the posse suspected that he would come. They were lying in wait and shot Valentine as he entered the spring house. A few minutes later the sheriff went to the living room to tell his daughter. He found her lighting a lamp. When he told her that her sweetheart had been killed, she fainted.”

  “Oh, not” cried Bess.

  “For many weeks she was ill,” Dave continued. “During this time her father found the watch sent to her by Valentine and took it. When she was well enough to travel, he sent her to stay with relatives in Buffalo. There she married, had two children, and died while still a young woman,” he concluded.

  George sighed. “Poor thing! She never had a chance to come back here and hunt for her treasure.”

  Suddenly Dave stood up. “I must go now,” he said. “I have to stand watch soon in the east meadow.”

  Quietly the foursome left the cellar by the secret entrance and parted outside the spring house. The girls went to shower and change their clothes.

  As Nancy dressed, she mulled over the story Dave had told her. She tried to reconstruct the scene at the ranch house on the night of the outlaw’s death.

  “If Frances had returned home only that afternoon,” Nancy reasoned, “she may not have had a chance to look in the cellar for the bottle until that night. No doubt she also knew or guessed that her sweetheart would come to see her at the place they had met before. When the shots were fired, Frances would surely have heard them.”

  Here Nancy came to the part of the story that puzzled her. Maybe Frances Humber was in the cellar and ran upstairs to light a lamp? But why? It would have been more natural for her to go outside to be with Valentine. But suppose Frances had already found the bottle? At the sound of the shot she dashed upstairs in a panic, then found that she still had the bottle in her hand.

  “Of course! She hid it in the lamp!” Nancy said aloud. “Then when her father walked in, Frances lit the lamp to cover her action.”

  At the bewildered looks on the faces of Bess and George, Nancy chuckled. Quickly she told them her new theory. “We must ask Aunt Bet if any of the old Humber lamps are still on the premises.”

  The girls hurried to the living room and found Mrs. Rawley seated in a rocker, mending her husband’s socks. In response to Nancy’s question, she told her that there was a lot of junk from former owners in a storeroom next to Alice’s bedroom.

  The girls hurried down the hall and entered the storeroom. Bess switched on the ceiling light. Amidst old trunks, baskets, and barrels they found a birdcage and a hatstand but no lamp. On the seat of a broken chair lay a ragged quilt with something wrapped in it. Nancy carefully unfolded the bedcover. Revealed was a large oil lamp with a deep ruby glass well.

  Bess gave a gasp of excitement, and George said, “If only it’s the right one!”

  With anxious fingers Nancy removed the chimney and the wick. She reached into the well and pulled out a slender green glass bottle!

  CHAPTER XII

  Lights Out!

  “WHAT wonderful luck!” Nancy exclaimed softly. “To think of finding this bottle after all these years!”

  “Let’s see what’s inside it,” Bess urged.

  Nancy put her little finger into the bottle and slid out a curled-up paper. Carefully she unrolled it, then glanced at the signature at the bottom—a bold “V” and a heart.

  “It’s a letter from Valentine to Frances,” Nancy said.

  The girls crowded dose and peered at the faded handwriting. The long-dead romance came alive for them as Nancy read aloud:

  “ ‘My dear girl, I am writing this in haste to tell you that I truly love you. Would that we could marry! But the law pursues me and I doubt that I will live much longer. Too late I am sorry for my misspent life.’ ”·

  “How sad!” murmured Bess.

  “ ‘I want you to have my fortune,’ ” the note continued, “ ‘but many people are seeking it. I know my mail is seized. I have hidden instructions in this bottle. A little of my booty has been converted to gold and melted down into special pieces, dear Frances, made just for you.’ ”

  “I wonder what he meant,” said George.

  As Nancy was about to read on, the ceiling light went out. George gave an exclamation of annoyance. “What a time for the bulb to got Wait here. I’ll get one from the kitchen.”

  As George felt her way out of the room, a suspicion flashed across Nancy’s mind. Slipping the letter into her shirt pocket, she said, “Come on, Bess!” and went down the hall with her friend at her heels asking what was the matter.

  In the living room Nancy saw the shadowy figure of Aunt Bet standing by a table lamp. “The lights don’t work,” she said.

  At the same moment Alice’s voice came up the hall. “Did someone blow a fuse?”

  Her fears growing, Nancy groped her way to the telephone and picked it up. The line was dead! She ran her hand down the wire. It had been cut!

  Nancy returned to the living room as George hastened in from the kitchen.

  “No lights there, either,” she reported.

  “And probably no water,” Nancy added grimly.

  “The pump runs by electricity.” She went on to say someone had probably
damaged the generator or cut all the wires.

  There was a moment of shocked silence.

  “But why?” Alice asked in a frightened voice.

  “I’m afraid our enemies are about to make more trouble. They figure we’re helpless without lights or a phone.”

  “What do you think they’ll do?” Aunt Bet asked anxiously.

  Nancy said she could not be sure, of course, but she expressed fears about the new palominos.

  “We must report this to the men on patrol,” said Mrs. Rawley. “They may not yet know anything about the power failure.”

  Nancy agreed. “But we must be very quiet about it. If the gang doesn’t suspect we’ve guessed their plan, we may be able to catch them in the act.”

  Nancy suggested that Aunt Bet and Alice keep watch in the house while she and the cousins looked for the guards.

  The three hastened to their room to get their flashlights. “Don’t turn them on,” Nancy warned, “unless you absolutely have to.”

  The girls walked out and paused at the edge of the portico. Somewhere in the darkness men were ready to work more mischief.

  “You two go to the east meadow and report to Dave,” she said. “I’ll locate the palomino guard.”

  “Be careful,” Bess warned. “You may find the troublemakers instead. They struck at the pump house before. Remember? That’s close to the big meadow.”

  “That’s why I think they won’t do it again,” Nancy replied. “Probably they’ll pick on a different place. Good luck! If you run into trouble, yell!”

  George and Bess melted into the darkness and Nancy hurried in the opposite direction. As she gazed over the fence of the big meadow, she could see most of the palominos standing quietly together near the far end. One or two were browsing in the middle, but there was no sign of a mounted guard.

  Quickly Nancy circled the stable and the adjoining tack room, but found no one. Puzzled, she looked across the yard to the corral. It was empty. Where was the guard?

  “I must find someone,” Nancy thought, but before she could move, there came a loud whinnying from the stable.

  Nancy wheeled and hurried to the door, then paused, well aware that it might be dangerous to go inside. She opened the door quietly and stood listening. Except for the nickering of a restless animal, all was quiet.

  Nancy stepped in and walked cautiously between the two rows of stalls. When she reached the one where her horse stood, it occurred to her that someone might have unsaddled him to prevent her from being first to go after the phantom. But she found the saddle still in place.

  As Nancy walked quietly along the left side of the horse, he whinnied nervously. She murmured reassuringly to him and stroked his head. Then she felt the girth to be sure it had not been loosened and ran her hands over the bridle. All was in order.

  She was about to leave the stall when there came a loud whinny from the other end of the stable and the sound of a hoof hitting a bucket.

  Nancy froze. She heard a footstep!

  Suppose it was one of the gang? “If he finds me,” she thought, “I’ll be trapped in this stall-unable to sound the alarm.”

  Nancy knew she must try to get out of the stable. The footstep had seemed to be near the excited horse. But exactly where was the intruder now? Nancy slipped out of the stall, and hugging the wall, moved toward the door.

  The next moment she was seized from behind and a hard hand stifled her outcry. As Nancy struggled, there came a sharp exclamation and she was suddenly released.

  “Nancy!” said a familiar voice. It was Tex’s! “Great jumpin’ steers! I’m sorry! Are you all right?” the cowboy asked anxiously. “Shucks, girl, I thought you were one of the phantom gang!”

  Nancy took a deep breath. “I thought you were, too,” she said, and quickly told him her news.

  The cowboy gave a low whistle. “Trouble’s comin’, that’s for sure!”

  “Where are all the guards?” asked Nancy.

  “Mr. Rawley and Walt Sanders have gone down the valley toward Tumbleweed to watch the road. Mr. Rawley figured if outsiders are helpin’ to do the damage they might come part way by car, park it, and sneak into the ranch on foot.

  “If that’s how it’s done, maybe he and Sanders can nab ’em. Shorty took early watch, so he’s probably sacked out in the bunkhouse.

  “I’m set to guard the stable area,” Tex went on, “but I figured I’d sure be less conspicuous on foot. A while ago I heard a noise from here and came in to check. It was nothin’—just Daisy thumpin’ around. She’s restless tonight.”

  “Who’s watching the palominos?” Nancy asked.

  “Bud.”

  “He wasn’t a few minutes ago.”

  “Oh—oh!” said Tex. “Something’s wrong there! He’d never leave his post. Come on!”

  The two hastened outside. As they turned toward the meadow, from the far end, came a high weird whistle.

  The signal for the phantom horse!

  Tex stopped short, then raced toward the house, shouting the alarm. Moments later, the clanging of the iron triangle outside the kitchen filled the night.

  Nancy, meanwhile, had sprinted into the stable and led out her horse. As she sprang into the saddle, she could see the mysterious glowing steed galloping from the trees into the meadow. It hardly seemed to touch the ground and it wavered in the wind.

  “I’m going to catch it!” Nancy vowed, and spurred her horse to racing speed.

  Straight ahead lay the meadow gate, but it was closed. Taking a deep breath, Nancy gathered her mount and cleared it.

  As before, the phantom was heading straight across the meadow. Nancy rode hard to cut the animal off. She intended to seize the phantom’s bridle should it have one on.

  In a moment the apparition turned and raced down the meadow, straight toward the palominos. Shrilly whinnying, it plunged into their midst. Some palominos shied and reared, others ran wild.

  Nancy’s horse, trying to overtake the fleeing phantom, pounded through the scattered group. Suddenly one of the frightened palominos thundered across her path. Frantically Nancy tried to pull her own mount aside.

  Too late! The two horses collided. Nancy flew from the saddle and hit the ground so hard she blacked out!

  CHAPTER XIII

  Missing Artist

  WHEN Nancy regained consciousness, Dave was bending over her. “Are you okay?” he asked anxiously, helping her to sit up. “Any bones broken?”

  “No,” said Nancy. “I guess I’m just bruised. Have I been lying here long?”

  “Only a few minutes,” Dave replied. “I saw you smack into that palomino and go sailing off. You really reached for the moon!”

  Dave lifted Nancy to her feet and steadied her for a moment. As she thanked him, she could hear horses whinnying and men shouting.

  “That phantom sure spooked the palominos,” Dave said. “Did you get a good look at it?”

  Nancy shook her head regretfully. “I didn’t get close enough to see how it was rigged.”

  A horseman reined up beside them. It was Walt Sanders. “Fences have been cut!” the ranch foreman barked. “We’ve got to round up those palominos. Could take all night or longer if they run into the hills.”

  He spurred off and Dave turned to Nancy. “Can you make it to the house by yourself?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she assured him. “I’m fine.”

  Dave looked around in the darkness, but there was no sign of Nancy’s horse. “I reckon he bolted,” he said.

  His own mount, a seasoned work animal, stood nearby, unaffected by the panic in the meadow. Dave stepped into his saddle. “Keep clear of those running horses,” he warned, then rode off after the foreman.

  By the time Nancy had walked the length of the meadow to the ranch house, she no longer felt shaken from her fall. In the living room were the other three girls and Aunt Bet. On the table, lighted, was the oil lamp which had belonged to the Humbers. As Nancy walked in, Bess cried, “Did you catch the p
hantom?”

  “Sorry. No.”

  “Was there any damage this time?” Mrs. Rawley asked.

  Nancy reported the bad news about the cut fences and the palominos.

  Aunt Bet’s voice was strained as she said, “If we lose those horses, it will be a crushing blow for us. I appreciate all you’ve done, Nancy. Bess and George told me how you found the letter.”

  “It was so clever of you to deduce what Frances Humber did,” Alice said admiringly.

  “But you didn’t finish reading it,” George reminded Nancy.

  Nancy took the letter from her pocket, smoothed out the paper, and held it dose to the oil lamp.

  George said, “You left off where he said he had melted down some gold into special pieces.”

  “Yes, here’s the place,” said Nancy. She read the next sentence. “ ‘My treasure is hidden in the oldest dwelling on the ranch.’ ”

  “That’s this house,” Aunt Bet exclaimed. “We were told that Sheriff Humber built it first.”

  “Read on,” Bess urged. “Exactly where is the treasure?”

  Nancy shook her head. “He doesn’t say. Listen! ‘I fear that I am followed and even this note may fall into my enemies’ hands. Therefore, I will say only that you know the place I mean.’ ”

  George groaned. “We’ll have to search the whole house. We’d better get started.”

  “There’s likely to be a space under a loose floorboard,” said Nancy, “or a niche in a chimney flue, or perhaps a false wall in a closet.”

  She suggested that each of them take a section of the house to investigate.

  Nancy herself went to the big fireplace in the living room. She thought that one of the stones in it might conceal a hiding place.

  With the aid of her flashlight the young sleuth tried to peer between the rocks, but they were set close together and no space was visible. She pushed hard on each one, but none budged.

  When she finished, Nancy turned her attention to the Indian grindstone. Because it was set in the middle, she thought there might be something special about it and tried hard to move the stone, but it was as tightly in place as all the others.