ducks for that guy.”
“He does seem land of territorial,” George com-
mented.
“But I don't think he's home, guys,” Nancy said. “He
must own at least one car that's drivable, and it's
definitely not there. Or, at least, he hasn't dug it out
yet.”
Bess and George exchanged looks. “Okay, Nancy,”
Bess said, gritting her teeth as she opened her door.
“You win.”
A minute later the three girls were peering into
Rusty's ramshackle house. Many of the windows were
broken, with plastic wrap taped over the panes to keep
out the wind and cold. Inside was a small room serving
as a kitchen and sitting room. The wood-burning stove
in the middle looked totally cold.
“What's that?” Bess said, grabbing Nancy's arm. “I
saw something move. Maybe it's rats!”
“No, Bess, cats,” Nancy said as her eyes adjusted to
the dim light inside. A pack of scrawny cats roamed
around the room, eating from open tins amid a jumble
of yellow newspapers, dirty rags, and cast-off tools.
“Poor things,” Nancy said. “At least Rusty's feeding
them, though.” Through an open doorway, Nancy
could see an extremely messy bedroom but no sign of
Rainbow anywhere. “Rusty's definitely not home. Let's
look around his property.”
The three girls headed downhill toward a narrow
stream where dilapidated livestock sheds dotted the
snowy yard. The hill was a minefield of old junk. Tree
trunks had grown up around ancient tires, machinery
parts were strewn everywhere, and broken farm
equipment from the 1950s rose up like some
nightmarish dinosaur species on the verge of a second
life.
“Whoa!” Bess said as her boot kicked up a whitish
object from under a mound of snow. “What was that?”
The white thing landed with a thud in front of
George. “Weird!” George exclaimed. “I think it's some
kind of skull.” She bent down to examine it as Nancy
and Bess joined her.
“You're right, George,” Nancy said, studying the
smooth, ivory-colored skull with its long snout and
powerful teeth. Glancing farther down the hill, she saw
a number of pigs rooting around inside a small pen
filled with muddy snow. “It's probably a pig's,” she
added.
“Gross,” Bess said with a shiver. “Let's get out of
here.” She grabbed Nancy and George by the arm and
pulled them back a step.
“Not before I check out those sheds,” Nancy said
firmly. Brushing off Bess's grip, she led the way toward
the cluster of sheds.
A soft whimpering noise came from the nearest one
as the girls approached it. Nancy, Bess, and George
exchanged looks. “That doesn't sound very piglike to
me,” George commented.
“Maybe it's Rainbow,” Nancy said, peering into the
open doorway of the dark, rotting structure, “or one of
her pup—” A horrible stench of sour milk and dirty
animals wafted through the doorway, stopping Nancy
in midsentence.
“Boy, does this place stink!” Bess said beside her.
“Those poor animals. Doesn't he ever clean up?”
“I don't think cleaning is one of Rusty's specialties,”
George said dryly.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind the girls, but be-
fore Nancy could whirl around to see who was there, a
rough hand seized her by the collar and pushed her
into the shed with Bess and George.
Then the door slammed behind them.
“Serves you right for snoopin' on private property,” a
man said, cackling triumphantly as he held the door
closed from the outside.
After being outside in the bright afternoon, Nancy
blinked, trying to make out what was in the dim shed.
A gigantic form stood ominously in the center,
silhouetted by a patch of dim sunlight that filtered
through cracks in the wall.
Nancy's heart sank. It was an enormous hog, and its
tiny eyes glinted murderously. With a horrible, piercing
squeal, it charged right at them.
9. Trapped in High Places
Bess screamed, her boots slipping in the muck as she
ran toward a broken-down stall on the left. In the nick
of time, she scrambled through the stall door and shut
it behind her.
Nancy and George darted to the right. Just as the
hog was about to butt them, the shed door opened.
The hog swerved aside as a loud rattling noise
clanged outside. With its ears pricked forward, the hog
galloped through the opening, grunting happily.
“Come and get it, Silo,” Rusty coaxed. “A bucket full
o' slops.”
Nancy cautiously moved to the doorway and
watched as Rusty banged a metal bucket with a stick
while the hog eyed him eagerly.
“Bess, George,” Nancy whispered, motioning them
forward. “Come on, let's get out of here before Rusty
has a chance to shut the door again.”
The girls rushed outside, trying their best to appear
invisible as they sidestepped Rusty.
“Hey! Not so fast,” Rusty said, dropping the bucket
of slops in front of the hog, which instantly started to
gulp it down.
Rusty whipped out his slingshot from his pocket. A
small but sharp-looking stone rested in the elastic
pouch as he pointed the weapon right at them. “You
girls ain't going nowhere till you answer some ques-
tions. By the way, how'd you like my little trick, girls?
Silo here scared you silly, didn't he?”
Nancy, Bess, and George studied Rusty warily His
puffy cheeks gave his eyes a squinty look exactly like
Silo's, and his raggedy gray beard hung halfway down
his chest.
“Uh, he did scare us,” George said. “Can we go
now?”
Rusty narrowed his eyes even more. A cold, angry
look passed over his face as he spat out, “Go on—get
lost. And if I see you girls here again, you'll be in for a
real tussle. No more fun and games like today. This
here Silo is bacon bits next to his sister, Big Bertha.
Now, there's a silk purse sow for you.”
As he spoke, Nancy glanced down at his boots. Sure
enough, they were big, and the tracks they'd made in
the snow around him showed heavy treads. They could
be a match for the ones in the snow last night, Nancy
thought. I just wish those had been clearer.
Rusty lowered the slingshot as he locked Silo back
into the shed. Meanwhile, Nancy rummaged inside her
pocket and pulled out the Swiss army knife, which had
been there since she'd shown it to Ross earlier. “Don't
worry, we'll go,” she assured him. “Just let me ask you
something, first. Is this yours?” She held the knife
toward him in the palm of her hand.
As fast as a striking snake, Rusty snatched the knife
from Nancy's hand and dropped it into his pocket.
“Nev
er seen it before in my life,” he declared, “but I
could always use one o' these.”
“Hey, give that back,” Nancy demanded.
Rusty lifted the slingshot again. “Didn't I say, get
lost?” he snapped, aiming the stone right at her. “I
don't take kindly to nosy strangers.”
Nancy sighed, her spirits dampened. The trip to
Rusty's was a bust, she decided. Not only had they not
found any evidence of Rainbow, but she'd just lost her
one possible clue to the thief's identity. “Let's go,
guys,” she murmured, turning back toward the road.
As the girls trudged back to the Jeep, George said,
“Well, that sure was an adventure.”
“Not a fun one, though,” Bess said. She took a
handkerchief from her parka pocket and began to wipe
mud off her black ski pants as they walked along.
“But what do you guys think? Is Rusty just a crazy
old harmless hermit, or do you think he could be
guilty?” Nancy asked.
“Well, he's definitely not harmless, even if he isn't
guilty,” George said. “That pig almost killed us.”
“I think he may be guilty,” Bess said. “I mean,
Rainbow could be in another shed. Plus, he took your
knife, Nan. Maybe it really was his and he doesn't want
there to be any evidence linking him to Elk River.”
Nancy's head was swimming. Bess and George were
right, she thought. Their trip to Rusty's hadn't ruled
out Rusty as a suspect.
The girls stood at Elk Mountain, studying a giant
map of the trails that had been posted near the base
lodge. At two o'clock the sun made the slopes glisten.
Fresh snow coated the trees, turning the scene into a
magic wonderland, and the big blue Wyoming sky
seemed to stretch above them forever.
Nancy felt a rush of excitement. “Look, guys,” she
said, pointing at the map, “there are trails here at all
different levels. This place would keep us busy for days
if we didn't have a mystery to solve.”
“Wow, look at all those black diamonds,” George
said excitedly, referring to the expert slopes.
“I'm not risking my life twice in one day,” Bess an-
nounced. “Won't one of you guys go down an inter-
mediate slope with me? There are plenty of those, too,
and I'll bet they're pretty challenging.”
“I'll come with you, Bess,” a man's voice said behind
them.
Turning, the girls saw Dexter Warriner in a black ski
outfit and goggles, smiling at them eagerly. “Dexter,
hi!” Bess said. “I didn't know you were here.”
“I decided to join Dad after all. Alice dropped me
off on her way to go shopping in town,” he explained.
“It's such an awesome day, and I didn't want to waste
all that fresh powder.”
“So where is your dad?” George asked him.
Dexter shrugged. “I haven't seen him yet. He's
probably schussing down some double black diamond
trail. There's no way I can keep up with that man.”
Nancy laughed. Turning to Bess, she said, “We'll all
come with you, Bess. George, it won't kill you to do the
easier slopes today, especially since you're not as expert
at snowboarding as you are at skiing.”
“You're right, guys,” George said. “I could use a day
to warm up.”
Dexter suggested taking Sundance, a long, inter-
mediate trail that he claimed was usually uncrowded so
the powder would probably still be fresh. The trail
started at the top of the gondola, which, because it was
a weekday had no line.
The group boarded the gondola and rode it to the
top, marveling at the view of endless mountains and
sky. Once they got off, Nancy, Bess, and Dexter put on
their skis, and George snapped her boots into the
snowboard that John had lent her. Then the three girls
followed Dexter down a narrow woodland trail that
quickly opened onto a wide panoramic slope.
At first the cold wind stung Nancy's face, but as soon
as she reached the open slope, she warmed up
immediately, thanks to the exercise and sun. Halfway
down the mountain the group paused at the side of the
trail to catch their breath.
George said, “It's awesome weather, kind of like the
beach.”
“Not quite,” Bess said. But she unzipped her powder
blue parka a few inches and added, “Almost.”
They took off again, following Dexter. As Nancy
skied along, she felt totally free, gliding effortlessly
through the soft, powdery snow. It's almost like I'm
flying, she thought happily.
After almost two hours of perfect skiing, Dexter
spotted his father taking off his skis at the base lodge.
“Hey, Dad!” he cried, doing a neat parallel stop by his
father. “Are you finished for the day?”
Dody Warriner's face glowed from exercise and the
frosty air as he smiled fondly at his son. “Sure am. My
back is still a little sore from burro riding in the Andes
Mountains during my recent fishing trip there. But
don't let me stop you kids from taking another run.
You've got time—it's not quite four.”
“Okay,” Dexter said, “if you girls are interested.”
“Sure,” Nancy said, while Bess and George nodded
eagerly.
A few minutes later Nancy, Bess, George, and
Dexter were sitting in a four-person chairlift on their
way to an intermediate trail called Ace of Hearts. “I felt
safer in the gondola,” Bess commented, peering down
at a rocky crevice far below. “At least we were inside.”
“We seem to be the only skiers riding this chair-lift,”
George said. “I guess everyone else has called it a day.
At least we'll have the trail to ourselves.”
A cold wind blew up, rocking the chairlift as it
zipped along. Soon they were out of sight of the lodge,
surrounded by thick trees and steep slopes. An icy
stream glistened in a gully far below as the sun slipped
behind the mountain. Jagged rocks protruded from the
banks.
“It's getting land of dark,” Bess said nervously.
“That's why most ski resorts close at four,” Dexter
told her. “In the mountains, the late-afternoon light
gets kind of tricky for skiing.”
The chairlift jerked to a halt. Bess gasped, while
Nancy, George, and Dexter clutched the safety bar as
the chair swung back and forth. They all peered down
at the rocky streambed thirty feet below.
“How long are we going to have to wait here?” Bess
asked.
10. The Elk’s Mysterious Message
As the chair rocked precariously, Nancy felt her fingers
start to become numb inside her ski mittens. Gripping
her poles between her knees, she loosened her mittens
and wrapped her thumbs inside her fists, hoping to
warm herself.
Five minutes passed, and the sunlight grew steadily
dimmer. “Do you think they've forgotten about us?”
Bess wondered.
George checked her watch. “It's after four. I wonder
if they thought the last person had already gotten off
the lift, and so they stopped it for the night.”
“Don't say that,” Bess moaned. “We'll have major
frostbite by morning.”
Nancy bit her lip. She doubted anyone could survive
a winter night in these mountains without shelter. But
she kept her thoughts to herself, not wanting to scare
Bess more than she already was. Anyway, the Marshalls
would realize they were missing and send out a search
party for them.
“Dad will see we're missing and get someone to look
for us,” Dexter said, echoing Nancy's thoughts. “Still, I
wonder how many hours it'll take until they figure it
out.” He sighed, taking off his goggles, and added, “I
sure wish I'd brought the yellow lens for these. The
dark lens is totally useless in the dusk.”
Despite the wide open spaces around her, Nancy
felt like a prisoner in a concrete cell. I hate being
trapped, she thought, especially when I can't do any-
thing to help the situation.
Or could she? Nancy's mind began to click away.
They were too far from either the bottom or the top of
the mountain for their shouts to be heard, and they
definitely couldn't jump onto the sharp rocks below.
But what if they could somehow get a message to
someone?
With her poles still between her knees, Nancy took
off a mitten and reached into her pocket for a pen and
notepad. “Help—we're stuck on the four-person lift!”
she scrawled as the others looked on curiously. Then,
folding the paper, she stuck it onto the bottom of one
of her poles.
“Cool idea, Nancy,” Dexter said.
In the fading light Nancy narrowed her eyes and
pointed the pole toward a trail that was barely visible
beyond the trees bordering the crevice.
Nancy concentrated hard, determined to aim the
pole through a sliver of space between the trees.
Throwing her shoulder back as far as she could, she
held her breath and launched the pole, praying that it
would reach the trail.
The pole sailed through the air like a javelin, barely
brushing the trees. Seconds later it landed directly in
the middle of the trail.
“Great throw, Nan,” George said.
“Now we just have to hope that someone comes
The Mystery of the Mother Wolf Page 7
