The Mystery of Misty Canyon

by Carolyn Keene

  George groaned and tossed her magazine at Bess. “Good night, Nancy,” she said with a wide grin.

  “Good night,” Nancy replied. She stretched one arm over her head and yawned, then walked back into her room and fell onto the bed. She was asleep the minute her head hit the pillow.

  • • •

  The next morning, after breakfast, Nancy, George, and Bess were leaning over a corral and watching Mike break one of the young trail horses. No matter how much the horse bucked or reared, he couldn’t shake Mike.

  “Mike was a bronco rider a few years ago,” Bess explained. “Peggy said he won first prize in some of the local rodeos.”

  “Why did he quit?” Nancy asked.

  Bess shrugged. “She didn’t say. Maybe I should find out?”

  “Good idea.” Nancy eyed the stallion barn. She wanted to go back inside and investigate, but she knew she’d have to wait. Too many hands were in and out of the building, and she needed time to search Renegade’s stall alone. “I wonder if Hank and Jimmy have found Renegade yet?” she asked, just as Stella Baines rode up on a long-legged bay mare.

  Stella waved at Mike and tied her horse to the top rail of the fence. “Hi,” she said brightly. “Is Tammy around?”

  “In the house,” Nancy said.

  “I guess I’d better go in and tell her that Dad thinks he saw Renegade last night.”

  “Where?” Nancy, Bess, and George asked in unison.

  “Over by the west end of our property early this morning. He was taking off for the hills,” she said.

  “How did you know he’d escaped?” Nancy asked.

  Stella grinned at Mike as he rode up. “Hank West called.” She glanced from Mike to the girls. “Of course, Dad wasn’t sure it was Renegade, but it was a black stallion, big as life.”

  “Let’s go!” Nancy said, turning toward the barns.

  “Hey—wait!” Mike said. “Hank and one of the hands are already checking the hills.”

  “More eyes couldn’t hurt,” Nancy said.

  Mike wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  “Then I’m coming with you,” he declared.

  “Why don’t you stay here with me?” Stella pouted.

  Mike seemed torn. He looked at Stella fondly. “I’ve got a job to do,” he reminded her. “Come on in while I tell Tammy.”

  Twenty minutes later, Nancy, George, and Mike rode to the west end of the Baines property. They searched together, but after several hours of scouring the hills at the west end of the Circle B, they finally gave up. “I just can’t figure it,” Mike said. “Where could he have gone?”

  Nancy glanced at the endless hills. Trails wound through the thick woods in every direction. It would be easy for a horse to disappear. “I think we should talk to Mr. Baines himself,” she suggested.

  “You’d better let Tammy handle that,” Mike said quickly.

  “Why?”

  He scowled. “Things have been strained between the two ranches for a few years. Competition has been tough. I don’t think Nathaniel would appreciate one of the guests of the Calloway Ranch poking around and asking questions. Let Tammy or Hank deal with him.”

  When they returned to the ranch, they discovered that Hank had returned, without Renegade. Hank had called Nathaniel Baines, who confirmed Stella’s story.

  “Nancy wants to talk with Baines,” Mike told the ranch foreman.

  Hank’s lips thinned. “Look, Nancy, I know you’re just trying to help, but I’d rather handle this on my own. Since Tammy’s dad’s death, I’m responsible. Besides, I don’t want Nathaniel Baines to know there’s any trouble over here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he could make a big deal of it. If word gets around that we’re losing horses or that some of our stock has gone bad, guests might prefer to stay at the Baines ranch. It’s the last thing we need!” He turned and strode to the bunkhouse.

  • • •

  Later in the afternoon, against Dr. Hobart’s orders, Tammy walked stiffly downstairs. Though pale and worried, she seemed much better than the night before.

  “Let’s have a glass of lemonade on the porch,” she suggested to Nancy and her friends. “I can’t stand lying in bed another minute!”

  Soon they were all seated in chairs on the porch. Tammy took a sip from her glass and sighed. “I told Hank to call the sheriff’s office,” she said to Nancy. “That way, if anyone sees Renegade, we’ll be notified.”

  Nancy was relieved. “Good. Have you talked with Nathaniel Baines?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think he saw Renegade.” As if reading the questions in Nancy’s eyes, Tammy said, “Oh, he wasn’t lying. But the horse he saw sounded too much like a range horse—a wild mustang. It was too short and unkempt to be Renegade.”

  “One more dead end,” George murmured, glancing toward the long drive at the sound of a car’s engine. “Uh-oh. Just what we need. More trouble.”

  A long white car raced down the lane and slammed to a stop only a few feet from the porch.

  At the sight of the car, Tammy turned even paler.

  Rob Majors parked, then swaggered up the steps to the porch. He glanced at Nancy and her friends before saying to Tammy, “I see you’re on your feet again.”

  “Almost,” Tammy replied stiffly.

  Vern Landon sauntered onto the porch behind Rob Majors. He tipped his wide Stetson toward Nancy and her friends, but his eyes remained cold and distant. “I’d like to make an offer on this place,” he said, reaching into his inner jacket pocket and withdrawing a checkbook. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

  “We don’t need to,” Tammy said coldly. “I’m not interested.”

  “But you haven’t heard the price.” Vern Landon’s face hardened.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Tammy retorted. “This place was my grandfather’s, my father’s, and now it’s mine. I won’t sell this place just so that it can be turned into some resort filled with condominiums. Not for any price.”

  “That’s not very smart,” Rob Majors warned.

  Tammy struggled to her feet. “I told you I’d make the back payments—on the fifth of July.”

  “You’re in no condition to ride in a rodeo,” Rob Majors pointed out.

  “I will be,” Tammy said, suddenly angry. “Just watch. Meanwhile, thank you, gentlemen, but get off my ranch. Now!”

  6

  A Silver Buckle

  Tammy turned and marched into the house, banging the screen door behind her.

  “That was your last chance!” Vern Landon yelled after her.

  “Stupid woman!” Rob Majors said gruffly. He looked at the three friends. “If you have any influence with Tammy,” he said, “you’d better tell her to listen to Landon’s offer. As far as I’m concerned, it’s her only hope of getting anything out of this place! I heard she lost her prize stallion.”

  “Bad news travels fast,” George observed.

  Majors pressed his lips together angrily. “Without that stallion, she has nothing but a dried-up dust bowl and a few sagging buildings. The bank is ready to close this place. Time is running out.”

  Nancy remembered Renegade’s value as a stallion. Tammy was counting on Renegade’s foals in the future.

  Rob started down the steps, then stopped, turning to look at Nanćy. A cold smile slid over his lips. “And by the way, I don’t believe that horse escaped. I just bet Tammy engineered the entire fiasco.”

  “Why would she do that?” Bess asked indignantly.

  Rob Majors glanced at Landon. “For the insurance money,” he said. “That horse was worth a bundle. But she won’t get away with it! I personally guarantee that the insurance company will find out about her scam. And when they find that she set the whole thing up, they’ll close this place down and lock her up!”

  Nancy watched as the two men climbed back into the car.

  “Nice guys,” George observed.

  “Why does he want this place so badly? There must be oth
er ranches for sale,” Nancy mused.

  “Maybe not in Misty Canyon.”

  “I wonder.” Deciding she couldn’t stand waiting around any longer, Nancy said, “I’m going to check on the ridge where Renegade jumped last night. Anyone want to join me?”

  “Sure,” George agreed.

  Bess shook her head. “I promised Peggy I’d help in the kitchen this afternoon.”

  “Good. You can cover for us,” Nancy said.

  “What will we do if we run into Hank?” George asked as they headed for the barns.

  “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to cross that ridge when we come to it.”

  Chuckling, George grabbed two bridles from the tack room.

  • • •

  On the ridge, nothing had changed. Nancy studied the dust prints and found her own boot-heel marks and Renegade’s hoofprints. She could see where he’d jumped over the edge of the creek and where he’d landed on the bank, but his prints didn’t show up on the far side of the stream.

  “He must have disappeared,” George said, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead.

  “Or galloped up or down the creek.” Nancy walked each way but couldn’t find any trace of the horse.

  “Only fish follow streams,” George said, her eyes sweeping the landscape of brush and pine trees. “Or convicts who want to destroy their scent so dogs can’t follow them.”

  “What about horses that are ridden to cover their tracks?”

  “Oh, yeah, right. The horse no man can ride was ridden through a dark forest, over a cliff, and up a creek.”

  Even Nancy had to admit her theory was farfetched. But something she couldn’t put her finger on bothered her. She checked the surrounding brush but couldn’t find another clue—not one scrap of cloth caught on a branch, no strand of horse hair wound around a twig, no evidence along the muddy shores.

  “Maybe Hank has found Renegade by now,” George said, but she didn’t sound convinced.

  They rode back to the ranch and found Bess in the kitchen with Tammy. As they shared a soda, the friends listened to Tammy’s fascinating stories about rodeo riding. Tammy had won bareback races as well as performing as a trick rider.

  “It sounds glamorous!” Bess exclaimed.

  “More like hard work, if you ask me,” George said.

  Nancy glanced out the window and spied Hank West and Jimmy Robbins near the stallion barns. But Renegade wasn’t with them. Tammy followed Nancy’s gaze as Hank handed the reins of his horse to Jimmy and walked up the back steps.

  “So you didn’t find him,” Tammy said anxiously as he entered the kitchen.

  “No. It beats me where that devil horse could have gone.” Hank mopped his dusty brow with a red handkerchief. His face was grimy and weathered from the sun as he glanced at Nancy. “Don’t suppose you went looking for him, now, did you, Nancy? Those weren’t your tracks by the stream, were they?”

  “Nancy was only trying to help,” Tammy said quickly. “I asked her to. Did you reach the sheriff’s office?”

  Hank sighed. “I haven’t called them yet.”

  Tammy was flabbergasted. “Why not?”

  “Because it wouldn’t do any good, that’s why,” he blurted out. “Calling the sheriff would just give us more bad publicity around here.”

  “But if someone sees him—”

  “I’ve called the neighboring ranches,” Hank said, his face softening as he spoke to Tammy. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

  “I hope so,” Tammy said, twisting her hands in her lap.

  • • •

  After dinner, as the guests were getting ready for canoe races that evening, Nancy sensed an opportunity to check for clues in the stallion barn. Though the sun hadn’t set yet, activity had slowed at the ranch. Some of the hands had the evening off and were in town. Calloway Ranch was quiet. “Cover for me,” Nancy whispered to George.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “I’ll join you in a few minutes. I just want to check out Renegade’s stall when no one else is around.”

  Moving like a shadow, Nancy ducked into the stallion barn. Several horses nickered. The barn was dim, but she didn’t want to turn on the lights. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out her flashlight and switched it on.

  Renegade’s stall looked just the same as it had earlier. No clue there. Cautiously, she swept the beam of her flashlight along the cement floor, the dusty rafters, and the walls. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Then she quickly searched the stalls next to Renegade’s. Horses whinnied and scraped metal-shod hooves against the cement.

  Nancy checked her watch and realized she’d already been away from the group for fifteen minutes. She had to join the others before she was missed.

  Sighing, Nancy turned to leave but stopped short at Twister’s stall. The stallion was restless and pawing angrily.

  The hairs on the back of Nancy’s neck stood on end. Was he anxious because of her—or was someone else in the building? She clicked off her flashlight and held her breath to listen.

  She heard the sounds of laughter from the bunkhouse, the rustle of hooves against straw, and the agitated noises coming from Twister. But nothing in the stallion barn.

  After a few seconds, she breathed again and clicked on her flashlight. She peered into Twister’s stall. The horse’s ears were flattened, his nostrils flared, and he stepped back. Nancy trained her light away from his face and onto his legs, but he started to rear.

  She heard a noise behind her. Her pulse jumped. Startled, she turned just as she felt a jarring blow to the back of her head. At the same instant, she felt the stall door give way. Lights flashed behind her eyes as she stumbled into Twister’s stall.

  She turned to face her attacker in horror. A silver belt buckle was slamming at her face! She tried to jump aside, but the blow landed with a sickening thud.

  Nancy crumpled to the ground, unconscious, as the stallion reared above her.

  7

  Accused!

  “Nancy! Nancy!”

  George’s voice sounded distant. Nancy tried to open her eyes but felt a jab of pain sear through her brain. “George?” she whispered, forcing her eyes open. Under the bright lights in the aisle of the stallion barn, Bess and George knelt beside Nancy.

  “Thank goodness you’re awake! What happened?” Bess asked.

  Nancy rubbed the back of her head. “Someone hit me.”

  “Who?” George demanded.

  Wincing, Nancy shook her head. “I don’t know. All I saw was a silver belt buckle. But I was in Twister’s stall. The stall door gave way, and I fell inside when I was hit.”

  Bess said, “The stall door is closed now. And that horse is inside.”

  “Whoever hit me must have pulled me to safety,” said Nancy.

  “Well, that’s something,” George murmured. “Stay here, and I’ll go get Dr. Hobart.”

  “No! Really—I feel better already.” It was the truth. As Nancy’s eyes adjusted to the light, the pounding in her head subsided. She pushed herself upright, and her head cleared.

  “You’re sure?” George asked skeptically.

  “Positive. I’ll just have a headache for a while.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to have the doctor look at it,” George insisted. She snapped out the lights, and the three friends walked out of the stallion barn. An evening breeze lifted Nancy’s hair off her face.

  “You know what this means, don’t you? Someone doesn’t like my investigating,” Nancy said.

  “But who?” George asked.

  “That’s the big question,” Nancy said. “It couldn’t have been Mike Mathews. He was at the lake for the canoe races.”

  “But he was gone for more than ten minutes,” George said. “We had to wait for him.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, he went to the bunkhouse and came back with some safety equipment—extra life preservers and some flares. His girlfriend, Stella, was with him. And her father. They came to ask about Re
negade, but they’ve already left.”

  “Wonderful,” Nancy said, frowning. “What about Hank West?”

  Bess shook her head. “He had a quick cup of coffee with Peggy, then left because he had work to do. I tried to stop him by offering him another piece of pie, but he wasn’t interested.”

  “Great. Just when I start investigating, practically every suspect I have shows up,” Nancy said, discouraged.

  “Oh, Nancy,” George said with a grin. “Whoever said detective work was easy?”

  • • •

  The next morning, Nancy showered early and threw on blue jeans, a T-shirt, and running shoes. She was on her way to breakfast when Tammy caught up with her.

  “Dr. Hobart says I’m okay,” Tammy announced.

  “That’s good news!”

  “The best. Now I can start training again.” She flashed a bright smile.

  They walked downstairs together, and Tammy paused at the front door. “How would you like to help me with chores this morning?” she asked. “You can see how the hands care for the stock.”

  “I’d love it,” Nancy said.

  They toured the barns, making sure that all the cattle and horses were fed and had plenty of water. As they walked outside, Nancy had to squint against the bright sunshine. Already the day was warm. On a hunch, Nancy asked, “Where do you keep the medication for the horses?”

  “Mostly in the tack room. There’s a cabinet in a corner.”

  “What do you keep in there?”

  “All the veterinary supplies—vitamins, ointment, liniment, anything we might need in case of an injury.” She glanced at Nancy with quizzical green eyes. “Why do you ask?”

  “I just wondered if Twister’s change in temperament might be because he’s been drugged.”

  Tammy laughed. “I don’t think so. Who would do that?”

  “Anyone who wants you out of the rodeo,” Nancy said.

  Sobering, Tammy said, “That’s an awful thought. No one would hurt one of the horses just to keep me from riding!”

  “It’s possible, Tammy,” Nancy said. “And maybe that same person stole Renegade.”

  “Stole him? But he escaped—Mike saw him take off.”