At first, the silence seemed unbelievable, for it was broken only by the heaving breathing of the team; then slowly the clapping and cheering began. Nancy gathered her own wits and pulled herself upright, then stepped down from the coach, glad to find that her still-weak knees would support her.
“Are you all right?” Ned asked, dismounting from the hard-breathing buckskin.
“Thanks to you,” Nancy answered. “You were wonderful.”
“Buck was,” Ned said modestly. “He didn’t even jump when the firecrackers went off.” He patted the horse’s wet neck. “What happened to the door? I thought sure you would fall out.” “We might have been badly injured if it
hadn’t been for Nancy,” Mrs. Ferguson stated as she, too, got out of the coach. “She held onto me and kept us both inside.”
“It was the blond man,” Nancy said. “He came out of the crowd and pulled the door open, then the man with the mustache threw the firecrackers under the team.”
“Jennifer!” Ned gasped and they both looked around just in time to see the girl trotting up on her pony. Her face was pale, but she smiled when she saw that they were both safe.
Nancy and Ned hugged the little girl, though none of them could say a word. Several of the parade officials came galloping up to congratulate Ned for his courage.
“Was anyone hurt?” Nancy asked.
“A couple of people got skinned up getting out of the way, but we were lucky. Your friend here saved us from a real disaster.” He shook Ned’s hand. “You’re welcome on our parade committee any time. We could use a dozen more riders like you.”
Ned blushed at the praise, then looked around. “Do you think we can go ahead?” he asked, his gaze more on Mrs. Ferguson and the other elderly lady than on Nancy.
For a moment, the two older women seemed to hesitate, then they straightened their shoulders. “If our ancestors could ride across country in these, I guess we should be able to manage the rest of the parade route,” Mrs. Ferguson said stoutly. She looked up at the ashen-faced driver, who was still sitting on the driver’s box. “What about it, Jeff?” she asked.
The man looked at the horses, all four of whom now stood with heads hanging, their dark hides wet with sweat. “I reckon you could shoot a cannon by them now and they wouldn’t jump,” he confirmed. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t hold them before.”
“No one could,” Mrs. Ferguson told him. “I just hope someone caught the idiot that threw the firecrackers.”
Nancy looked quickly toward the nearest official. He shook his head. “We were too busy trying to keep people from getting hurt. Do you have any idea who it was?”
“I don’t know their names, but I can describe both the men involved,” Nancy answered.
“Then you’ll need to talk to the police after the parade,” the official told her. “I’ll have someone waiting at the end of the route. Meantime, I think we’d better get started. Everybody ready?”
Ned assisted the ladies back into the coach, closing the door firmly behind them. His gaze met Nancy’s for just a moment and she could sense how terrified he’d been for her.
“Take care of yourself,” she whispered, then watched as he mounted Buck and rode back with Jennifer to take their place with the other members of the Pony Club.
The stagecoach creaked and groaned as the team moved forward, and Nancy took a deep breath before she leaned out the window and waved once again. Her smile was in place and she hoped that it looked convincing to those who lined the sidewalk. Inside, however, she was busy trying to understand what had happened. Why had the men tried to injure her?
Could they have thought that Jennifer was in the coach? Or had they meant to kidnap Jennifer during the confusion that followed the runaway?
11. Night Show
The parade ended without further incident and when Nancy stepped down from the stagecoach, Sergeant Dave Hill was waiting for her. “When the call came in that you were involved in the runaway, I thought maybe it had something to do with your other mysteries,” he said.
Nancy quickly described what had happened. The sergeant shook his head. “They must be crazy. They could have hurt a lot of people.”
“From the sounds of things, it seems they were more interested in harming Nancy than anything else,” Ned observed.
“Do you have any idea why, Miss Drew?” Sergeant Hill asked.
Nancy shook her head. “I thought that they were just trying to kidnap Jennifer, but now . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Remember the warning,” Ned said. “Maybe they were trying to let you know that they meant what they said about someone getting hurt if you didn’t give her up.”
“Well, I’m not going to abandon her to them,” Nancy stated firmly. “I’m going to find her mother and until I do, I’m going to take care of Jennifer.”
“I’m afraid we haven’t been able to give you any help with your search,” the sergeant murmured. “We just haven’t found a single clue as to where Mrs. Buckman went before you brought Jennifer to Cheyenne. There is one thing, though. We’ve found no record at all of a call from Mrs. Buckman to the DeCateur Academy.”
“You mean she didn’t call and ask Mrs. Peterson to send Jennifer home?” Nancy gasped.
“We can’t say for sure,” the sergeant admitted. “But we did find that she stayed in her house for several days before she disappeared and that the phone wasn’t connected. None of the friends or acquaintances we’ve contacted 'et her use their phones either, so ... Unless she chose to call from a pay phone somewhere, it appears that someone else may have made the call.”
“Someone who wanted Jennifer in Cheyenne,” Nancy mused. “But why?”
The sergeant could only shrug his shoulders.
Though she pondered through much of the afternoon, Nancy came up with no answers. She was happy when Ned informed her that, since Grace was going to be busy with friends in the evening, he’d gotten tickets for the night show.
“We’ll watch the chuckwagon races, then go over and check out the carnival rides,” he informed her. “Right, Jennifer?”
“Sounds neat,” the little girl agreed merrily.
Nancy smiled at her, thinking that she would miss Jennifer terribly when they found her mother. In the past few days, the girl had become very much like the little sister she’d never had.
This time, the weather held through the long, hot afternoon and by evening, Nancy felt fully recovered from her terrifying ride and brush with death. She donned a bright print peasant skirt and a pretty ruffled white blouse, humming to herself in anticipation of the western singer who was to be a part of the night show entertainment.
The rodeo grounds seemed rather different at night. The crowd was smaller since only the largest grandstand was to be used. A lighted stage had been set up for the entertainers, but the arena was already busy with the pre-show activities.
Junior barrel racers galloped wildly in the clover-leaf pattern, battling the clock. Next there was a mounted drill team to hold their attention with their intricate dancing maneuvers. There was even a band concert.
“Ah, this is what I’ve been waiting for,” Ned said when the first four chuckwagons were driven out of the shadowy complex of pens and corrals and out onto the racetrack that surrounded the huge arena.
“I don’t think anyone could do much cooking in one of those,” Nancy observed as the small, light wagons paraded past the grandstand.
“I think they must have lost a lot of weight in the translation from trail drive to racetrack,”
Ned agreed. “And look at those horses.”
“They look just like racehorses,” Jennifer commented.
“They are,” Nancy confirmed. “Now, how does the race work?”
“According to what I’ve heard, that black box in the back of the wagon is supposed to represent a stove. When the race starts, the two outriders are to be standing on the ground beside the stove. They have to throw the stove into the back of the wagon and mount t
heir horses. Then everybody races around the track.”
“That sounds simple enough,” Nancy said. “Well, I’ve heard it’s pretty rugged,” Ned cautioned. “It’s a team effort. Not only does the wagon have to be first, but they can get time penalties if their outriders don’t finish, if they knock over a barrel coming out of the arena, or if the stove falls out or is left behind. Of course, this is not to mention how tricky it must be to try to guide and control four racing thoroughbreds pulling a wagon.”
Nancy shuddered. “Don’t remind me about runaway teams,” she said.
The announcer explained the race rules, then the four wagons were positioned in the arena, their starting places marked by brightly painted barrels. The outriders were on the ground behind the wagons ready to toss the “stoves” into the basket-style back compartments of the wagons.
The starting pistol sent the momentarily quiet scene into total chaos. Horses reared and leaped forward. The outriders scrambled with the stoves, barely getting them in before the wagons went tearing around the barrel markers and exploded out onto the track.
“Look, one of the outriders lost his horse,” Jennifer shouted, pointing to where the hapless young man was racing along the track on foot, half obscured by the rising dust from the four wagons and their speeding teams.
“That must be his partner,” Nancy said, spotting a second young man who’d grabbed the reins of the runaway horse and was dragging it back toward his partner.
The crowd around them shouted encouragement, then laughed as the young man vaulted aboard and set off in pursuit of the vanishing teams. It was hard to see what was going on when the wagons reached the far side of the oval track; but once they came around and headed down the home stretch in front of the grandstand, Nancy found herself shouting with the rest of the crowd.
“The guy that lost his horse must really have a fast mount,” Ned observed as the dancing teams were stopped, turned, and brought slowly back to await the announcement of the results of the first race. “He was last, but he wasn’t far behind several of the other riders.” Nancy laughed. “That’s even wilder than my ride today,” she commented. “I don’t see how the drivers stay on the wagons.”
“I’d like to be an outrider,” Jennifer said.
“I think I’d rather ride in a drill team,” Nancy replied. “Those kids who were square-dancing on horseback really looked like they were having a good time.”
“That would be fun,” Jennifer agreed, then added, “Mom likes to square dance.”
Jennifer’s smile faded and Nancy felt again the frustration of her position. Why couldn’t she find a single clue to Lorna Buckman’s whereabouts? And what about Clarinda Winthrop? Those worries dampened her enjoyment of the rest of the night show, though not so much that Jennifer or Ned noticed.
“Ready to go try some of the carnival rides?” Ned asked when the night show ended.
“I’m not too tired,” Nancy answered. “Are you, Jennifer?”
“Of course not,” was the quick reply. “I can hardly wait.”
The carnival was like another world. The walkways had been sprinkled with oil and the scent still clung to the air as did the dust that no amount of oil seemed able to control. Still, as they progressed, their noses were tantalized by the smell of frying hamburgers and hotdogs, the sweetness of cotton candy and candy apples, the lure of fresh popcorn and roasting peanuts.
Crowds moved up and down the midway, laughing and shouting above the pleading calls of the barkers at the various games of chance and sideshows. Lines formed at each of the rides as people waited impatiently while others rode the clanking, roaring, stomach-clutching machines.
“What are we going to do first?” Jennifer demanded.
“What would you like to do?” Ned asked.
“I want to go on the Ferris wheel.” “Nancy?” Ned asked.
“I think I’ll pass this time,” Nancy said. “You two go ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
“One wild ride a day is my limit,” Nancy teased.
“Well, if you really don’t want to go. . . .” Ned and Jennifer left the young sleuth and got in the Ferris wheel line.
Nancy wandered on along the midway, watching the fascinating people that milled there. She smiled at the children waiting in line at the pony ride. Once they were lifted aboard the patient ponies, she could see their eyes brightening with dreams. She knew they were imagining themselves to be cowboys and cowgirls just like the ones they had seen earlier in the parade and at the rodeo.
When she reached the end of the brightly lit midway, she turned around and started back, aware that Jennifer and Ned would soon be finished with their ride on the Ferris wheel and that they would be looking for her.
As she neared the Ferris wheel, a huge crowd of people came off one of the other rides, blocking the narrow walkway.
“Honestly, they should have made the path wider,” Nancy muttered, stepping off the pathway into the shadows between two of the exhibit tents. She had to wait there for the throng to pass.
At that moment, a movement in the crowd near the Ferris wheel caught her eye and Nancy gasped as she recognized the tall, dark, mustached form of one of her enemies. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that he was watching the Ferris wheel, which even now was slowing to discharge its riders!
12. Danger
Nancy took only a moment, then made her decision and plunged into the crowd, pushing her way through the people till she was close behind the dark-haired man. There she stopped, hoping that this time she and Ned could capture the man and finally get some answers.
She soon spotted Ned and Jennifer and when Ned looked her way, she quickly signaled his attention toward the waiting man, mouthing the words, “It’s him.”
Ned’s slight nod was answer enough. She waited, holding herself ready, sure that the man would make his move as soon as Jennifer and Ned left the Ferris wheel.
To her surprise, nothing happened as Ned and Jennifer moved away from the ride. Nancy watched as Ned hesitated for a moment, then began moving slowly along the midway, Jennifer’s hand firmly in his. The dark man slipped into the crowd behind them and, after a second of hesitation, Nancy followed him.
She’d taken only a few steps when the sound of her name forced her attention away from the man she was pursuing.
“Nancy Drew, over here.” The woman’s voice was soft and seemed to come from the shadowed area between the concessions where Nancy had stopped before. Nancy deliberated only a moment, then made her way in that direction.
“Over here, behind the stand,” the voice directed and Nancy followed it, her curiosity fully aroused. Who in the world could be calling to her?
Suddenly, strong arms grabbed her from behind and a hand was quickly clapped over her mouth to keep her from screaming. Nancy struggled furiously, but a second pair of hands gripped her arms and there was nothing she could do.
“Get out of Cheyenne, snoop,” a male voice breathed in her ear. “If you don’t leave now, you are going to get hurt.”
Nancy tried to bite the hand over her mouth, but before she could do anything, something struck the side of her head and the darkness closed in around her, She was aware of nothing until she heard Ned’s voice calling her name, seemingly from a great distance.
Nancy opened her eyes and tried to look around, but there was only darkness. Her head ached and she seemed to be lying on something both cold and hard.
“Nancy! Nancy, where are you?” Ned’s call was louder now.
“Ned?” Her voice was a funny croak, not at all the way it should be. She turned her head and saw the glow of the midway just beyond the dark bulk of a building of some sort.
Memory rushed back and she tried to get to her feet. By the time Ned reached her, she was leaning against the comer post of the concession stand, her head spinning and pounding.
“Nancy, what happened?” Ned demanded. “We’ve been frantic!”
“Jennifer?” Nancy looked around a
nd was relieved to see the little girl standing just behind Ned. “I thought they might have tried to take you again.”
Evidently they were more interested in you,” Ned commented. “What are you doing >ut here, anyway? I thought you were following our friend with the mustache.”
Nancy explained quickly, finishing, “I was really foolish to come away from the crowd, but I never dreamed there was a woman involved. She and the blond man must have been waiting together back here.”
“Well, I think we’d better get you to the house, then we can call Sergeant Hill.” Ned took her arm, pulling her gently against his side so he could support her as they made their way back to where they’d left the car.
Sergeant Hill was, indeed, upset by Nancy’s report and once again advised her to be more cautious. After he left, Nancy gladly obeyed Grace’s orders and went directly to bed. Two vicious attacks in one day had left her feeling both battered and weary.
Grace came up to Nancy’s room early the next morning and, since Jennifer was still sleeping, signaled Nancy to follow her down the hall to one of the spare bedrooms.
“Nancy, I’m really concerned,” she began once they were there, a frown marring her pleasant face. “What happened with Brewster might not have seemed like a serious threat, but after what they did during the parade and then last night . . . You can’t go on risking your life this way. I only wish I could get in touch with your father. I’m sure he wouldn’t approve.” “What else can I do?” Nancy asked. “I can’t just abandon Jennifer, can I?”
Grace shook her head. “No, of course not, but the police . . .”
“Haven’t the slightest idea where to look for her mother,” Nancy finished.
“Do you?”
Nancy sighed. “Not really,” she admitted, “but I have a feeling that I must be getting close.”
“Why do you think that?”
“The way those men are acting. They must see me as a real threat to them to do what they did last night. I mean, it would have been easier for them to just make another attempt to kidnap Jennifer. In that crowd, though, they
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