“Six inches on the map means about 1,200 miles. If we divide 1,200 miles by 400 miles a day, that gives us three days of travel time,” Peter figured.
Meg added up the distances between major cities on the map. “We could stop in Chicago and Omaha and reach Scottsbluff the third day.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” Gramps agreed. “That will give you plenty of time to read and to write in your journals.”
On the third morning, Meg got out her notes on the seven mystery artifacts and children. Then she pestered Gramps to give them a clue for The Warning at Scottsbluff mystery. It didn’t take him long to give in.
Clue 1
“What sort of clue is this?” demanded Peter and Meg when they first glanced at the clue. “Hey, it’s in Morse code!” they exclaimed together. Meg quickly found her table for Morse code in her detective handbook.
What is the Morse Code message?
What sort of wagon trip ended in Oregon?
“The Oregon Trail!” exclaimed Peter.
“You’re right,” Meg agreed. “The mystery has to be about the Oregon Trail!” She scanned the map. “Scottsbluff is along the way.”
“That’s got to be it,” said Peter. “Hey, once we get to Lincoln, Nebraska, we’re practically following in the same path.”
“And we’re almost to Lincoln,” said Gramps. “I’ll stop for coffee, and you can have the next clue.”
It was a piece of paper, yellow and brittle with age and ripped so they couldn’t read all of the words.
Clue 2
What does the writing suggest to you? Can you complete any of the words or sentences?
“It looks like a page from a diary or journal,” suggested Meg. “From what I can make out, it’s about traveling on a wagon train.”
“It sounds like something tragic happened along the way,” Peter said.
“Gramps, do you have another clue? We’re stumped.”
“Not yet,” Gramps shook his head. “We’re not even half way there! I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you make a list of what you would bring if you were moving across the country?”
What would you bring if you were traveling across the United States with all of your worldly possessions? Limit yourself to one knapsack!
Now try to fit your family’s possessions into a covered wagon that is only 4’ x 12’. Draw a sketch. (Hint: a covered wagon was not much bigger than a minivan)
“Scottsbluff, 50 miles!” Peter said.
“Okay, I guess you’re ready for the third and fourth clues,” said Gramps, pulling two old photographs out of the envelope labeled The Warning at Scottsbluff. Then they got back in the minvan and started down the road.
“They’re tintypes — old-fashioned photographs on tin,” Peter observed.
Clue 3
Clue 4
“I bet it’s the mystery child’s family,” said Meg.
“One photo was taken when they left from Independence, Missouri, and one when they got to Oregon,” concluded Peter. “I wonder which kid is our mystery child?”
“And which is our mystery artifact?”
Meg got out her notebook and looked over the artifacts.
“Peter, look,” she said. “One boy is holding a tin horn! It looks like our artifact! That’s got to be it.”
Meg got out the tin horn and continued brainstorming in her notebook, hoping to come up with some ideas about what the warning at Scottsbluff might be. She had some unanswered questions about the Oregon trail, too.
Thump, thump, thump … “Uh, oh,” said Gramps as he pulled the minivan over. “It sounds like we have a flat tire.” They tried to change the tire, but in spite of all their efforts, they still needed help with some rusty bolts.
“Looks like we’re walking,” said Gramps.
“Walking? How far?” asked Peter.
“Until we get to a service station,” Gramps replied. “Come on, it will be good to stretch your legs.”
What were the dangers on the Oregon Trail?
They had gone about a mile when it started to rain.
“This is sort of like what the kids endured on the Oregon Trail,” commented Meg. “Most of them didn’t ride in the wagon; they walked the whole way.”
“Even in the rain?” wondered Peter.
“Yeah, even in the rain,” Meg replied.
As they walked along, Meg and Peter thought about the perils of the Oregon Trail. When they finally got to a service station, they wrote their notes down while Gramps went with a mechanic to change the tire.
The service attendant overheard them talking. “Some of my ancestors traveled the Oregon Trail,” she told them. “The wagon trains usually had to start out by spring. It took about six months.”
“Wow, it took that long to travel?” exclaimed Meg.
“If they left too early, they took a chance of getting stuck in a lot of spring showers and mud. But if they left too late, they could get trapped in snowstorms. In fact there are some real wagon tracks left from the Oregon Trail not far from here. It’s stopped raining, Would you like to see them?”
“Wouldn’t the rain over the years have washed them away?” asked Meg as she packed up her notes.
“No, the tracks are worn into the rock,” the attendant answered. “You’ll see.”
They followed the attendant’s directions to a field not far from the highway they had been driving on. There they found the distinct wheel ruts left from hundreds of wagons.
Peter took a photograph with his camera and showed it to his sister.
“Hey, Meg, look how they made signs to warn people of danger.”
“Maybe there is a sign or message of some kind on the tin horn,” said Meg. She pulled it out of her knapsack along with her magnifying glass.
Meg inspected the horn more closely. “It looks like there are letters scratched into the horn. But it’s so faint, it’s hard to see what it says.”
Do you see a clue on the horn?
“A-N-E-R,” Peter pointed out. “I bet they’re just the letters of the musical notes. He probably etched them on so he knew which finger to play.”
“I don’t think so,” said Meg. “I play the piano, and I know there are no musical note ‘N’ or ‘R’.”
“But, wait a second! It looks like there’s a ‘G’,” said Peter. He was on to something. “That’s it! A-N-GE-R spells anger! The mystery kid was angry about something.”
They returned to the service station and waited outside while Gramps paid his bill. They continued pondering over the horn and its inscription.
“I don’t know,” Meg said, shaking her head. “Anger over what?”
“Look! There’s Gramps. Let’s get going to Scottsbluff,” said Peter.
“Wait a minute.” Meg stopped him. “Maybe you were right before about the letters standing for musical notes.”
“I’m not sure,” said Peter. “But I know where I would take it to find out.”
Where would you take it?
“Let’s take it over to that music shop,” said Peter, pointing across the street.
“I bet they could tell us if the letters are notes or not.”
“Good idea,” said Meg. “I’ll tell Gramps we’ll be right back.”
“This is an old tin horn,” the music shop owner told them a few minutes later. “There are letters etched on here, but they’re difficult to read. Your sister was right. They’re not the musical notes to play. I bet if I rub some of this mineral oil on the impressions, a message might appear.”
“The first letter has been practically worn off, but here it’s coming up. It’s ‘D’.”
“Then it spells ‘Danger’,” said Peter, “not anger.”
“Why would he write ‘Danger’ on his horn?” wondered Meg.
“Maybe the horn is from some military battle, and it warned soldiers about attacks from Apaches or something,” Peter conjectured. “Or maybe it’s from the Civil War.”
“There’s more, “ said the ow
ner. “In much smaller letters underneath it says ‘crossing the Platte.’ And this mark in the middle looks like it was tied to something here because there’s a slight dent.”
“Excellent detecting,” Meg told the owner. She pulled the ripped page from the diary and the tintypes out of her pocket to re-examine them.
“No one is wearing military uniforms in the photos.”
“I think I know what the warning at Scottsbluff was,” said Peter.
“Me, too,” said Meg.
What was the warning at Scottsbluff?
“Danger crossing the ‘Platte’. The name ‘Platte’ sounds familiar,” said Meg.
“It’s the name of the large river the wagon trains followed across Nebraska,” said Peter. “I saw it on the maps.”
“The wagons had to cross the Platte at certain points, and sometimes it was very treacherous,” the shop owner told them. “Sometimes wagons overturned or sank, and many people drowned if the currents were rough.”
“Drowned? That’s awful,” said Meg. “And the rest of the family just had to keep going?”
“I’m afraid so,” the shop owner continued. “They often left grave markers along the trail.”
“Peter, remember the photographs? The whole family wasn’t in the second one. I think the mother was missing. Something happened to her along the way,” said Meg. “Look at the diary page. I think he’s writing about the awful event.”
“From the sound of this message written on the horn, I bet that’s exactly what happened,” said Peter. “I think the horn was left behind as a warning to other settlers that passed that way — to beware crossing the Platte River at that spot.”
Why was it left on the horn?
Peter continued. “He wrote it on his tin horn because he knew it would hold up in all kinds of weather. He probably tied it to a stick and that’s how it got indented in the middle. ‘Danger’ — that was the warning at Scottsbluff.”
“There’s a faint ‘JS’ on the inside of the horn,” the owner pointed out.
“That must stand for Jack Shaw,” said Meg. “That’s got to be him in the old tintype — the boy who looks to be about our age. He left the signal to warn other families.”
Meg jotted in her notebook. “Maybe the diary page looked something like this,” she showed them.
“I think you should take this to the Oregon Trail Museum at Scottsbluff,” the owner suggested.“I can tell by the age of this horn and the rest of your information that this is an historically significant artifact.”
“That’s exactly what we’ll do,” Meg told him as they thanked her and headed out the door.
“First we have to find our grandfather and our own covered wagon,” said Peter.
History Mystery 6
The Puzzle at Pecos
After spending the night in Wyoming, Meg Mackintosh, her brother Peter and Gramps awoke with a decision to make.
“We can continue directly west to San Francisco,” said Peter as he studied the map of the western United States. “Or we can go south through Colorado to New Mexico.”
“I say New Mexico first,” said Meg.“That way we’ll finish up our history mystery tour on the West Coast. It seems appropriate to go from the Atlantic to the Pacific oceans.”
“Makes sense to me,” Gramps said, so they climbed into their minivan for a jaunt through the Rocky Mountains.
When they crossed into New Mexico, Gramps handed them the first clue for the next mystery, The Puzzle at Pecos.
Peter opened the envelope and then sprinkled several small pieces of paper into Meg’s hand. “Professor Brown wasn’t kidding when he said ‘Puzzle at Pecos,’” Peter quipped.
Can you detect what the clue says?
“Quick, let’s piece it together,” said Meg.
“‘Oldest capital’? ‘Where Lincoln meets Palace’? Are you sure this clue doesn’t belong with Washington, D.C.?” Peter was confused. “What about Pecos? And what exactly are ‘silhouettes’?”
“Silhouettes are outlines of objects. Silhouette artists cut portraits of people out of black paper,” Gramps explained.
“Wait a minute,” said Meg as she studied the guidebook. “Santa Fe is actually the oldest state capital because it was founded in 1609! That’s even before Plimoth was founded!”
“And look on this map of Santa Fe,” Peter said. “I think I know where we should go first.”
Where in Santa Fe should they go?
“The Palace of the Governors is on Palace Avenue. And there’s the corner of Palace and Lincoln streets in the heart of old Santa Fe.That’s got to be where we’ll find the artist,” Peter told them.
“I bet you’re right, Peter,” Meg agreed and she pulled out her notebook. “Do you have any idea which artifact this story is about and who the history mystery child is?”
“I don’t know,” answered Peter. “I just found Pecos on the map. It’s about 20 miles southeast of Santa Fe on the Old Santa Fe Trail.”
“We still have to find the artist in Santa Fe first,” said Meg. “Then we’ll take it from there.”
Once they had driven into Sanfa Fe, Gramps parked the minivan, and they walked to the old Plaza downtown. There, they found the silhouette artist on the corner, just as Professor Brown had directed them.
“May I do a portrait for you?” the artist asked them.
“Actually, we’re here to ask you some questions about a history mystery,” said Peter. He showed him the list of history mystery children and artifacts. “Do any of these names or artifacts mean anything historic to you ?” he asked.
“Actually, I do recognize a name on your list. What’s this all about?”
Which name do you think he recognizes?
Meg stared at the name on the artist’s portfolio, then elbowed Peter.
“Joya Gonzales, that’s my great-grandmother’s name. Why do you have it on that list?” the artist asked, puzzled.
“Mr. Gonzales, we’re trying to solve a history mystery that took place in Pecos, New Mexico. Did you ever meet a Professor Brown?” she asked.
“I don’t recall … but I’ve been working on this corner for twenty years. Perhaps he was one of my customers,” he replied. “But some of my family is from Pecos. It’s not far from here.”
“Show him the artifacts,” Meg told Peter.
Peter dug into the knapsack and pulled them out.
“Do these mean anything to you?” he asked.
“I don’t recognize the lantern,” Mr. Gonzales mumbled as he looked over the artifacts. He juggled the key back and forth between his palms. Meg held her breath. “This could be a key to anything,” he said.
Peter asked, “Can you tell us anything about your great-grandmother?”
“Not really. But my cousin still lives out at the family home. They operate a dude ranch. Would you like to go for a trail ride out to her place? I’ll take you there. I’m done for today anyway.”
“Sure!” they agreed.
Mr. Gonzales packed up his easel and artwork.
“I think you’re ready for the next clue,” said Gramps as he handed it over.
What does the clue say?
“I’m studying Spanish in school,” Peter said eagerly. He jotted own his translation of the clue:
“Four more artifacts? What’s this all about?” Meg was confused.
On the way to the ranch, Meg and Peter looked up some historic facts about Pecos.
“There’s a National Historic Park in Pecos, with lots of interesting exhibits,” said Meg, and she wrote some facts in her notebooks to bring along the trail.
What are the four parts of New Mexican history in Meg’s notes?
Mr. Gonzales knew all the ranch hands who helped them saddle their horses. Then he led Gramps, Meg, and Peter down the trail winding through cacti and pinon trees. It was sunny but not too hot.
“I never knew there were so many colorful plants in the desert,” Meg said. She patted her horse. “I could ride all day!”
Peter trotted up to an old wooden gate, but it was jammed shut. Then they heard someone call out. It was Mr. Gonzales’ cousin. She was surprised but pleased to greet visitors as she led them through the more modern gate.
“This is my cousin Lucia,” Mr. Gonzales said, introducing them. “These are my new friends. They are detectives trying to solve a historical mystery. It might have something to do with Great-Grandmother.”
“How fascinating.” Lucia’s eyes lit up. “I do have some things of great-grandmother’s I can show you.” She disappeared through a dark oak door and returned a few minutes later with a small ornate box. It was made of carved wood with gilt designs along the edges.
“It looks like a miniature treasure chest,” whispered Peter.
“My mother told me this was a little collection of things Great-Grandmother found around the ranch. They’re really nothing of importance, but I hate to throw them out.” She lifted out the objects. There were three items wrapped in a piece of red-and-white striped cloth.
Can you identify any of the objects?
“Just an old button, a piece of turquoise, and a broken piece of pottery,” said Peter.
“These aren’t just broken pieces,” exclaimed Mr. Gonzales. “This is an ancient piece of Pueblo pottery! And this silver button has Spanish on it.”
“Wow!” said Peter. “Those are really old. What about this piece of turquoise?”
“That looks like a Mexican design,” added Lucia.
“So each artifact is from a different group of people who lived here!” suggested Peter. “I think your great-grandmother was some kind of history buff!”
“Or archaeologist,” added Meg as she looked over her research notes on Pecos. “Too bad there isn’t anything from the American Civil War. There was a battle near here.”
“That’s right,” said Lucia. “I remember my father telling me that Union soldiers hid at the ranch.”
“Meg, ‘cuatro partes de artefactos historico’ … four artifacts of history!” Peter exclaimed.
“But there are only three,” said Meg. “One’s missing!”
“Think again!” said Peter. “There are four artifacts of history here! Look at this piece of red-and-white striped cloth.”
Meg Mackintosh Solves Seven American History Mysteries Page 4
