by Shari Barr
She watched as a shadowy figure moved stealthily along the bank, staying in the protective darkness of the woods. Chills rippled up McKenzie’s back as the form moved slowly along the bank.
For a split second, the figure stepped into the moonlight. McKenzie gasped, clutching Sydney’s arm.
A man stood on the bank of the river, staring straight at them!
The Photograph
“Sydney!” McKenzie said in a loud whisper, clutching her friend’s arm. “There’s a man over there watching us.”
The figure disappeared into the darkness of the trees. Still wearing the goggles, McKenzie scanned the length of the riverbank. But she couldn’t see the man. He had vanished. McKenzie lowered the goggles, shivering in spite of the warm night air.
Sydney edged closer to McKenzie, staring wide-eyed across the river. Her voice quavered. “Why was he watching us?”
Anxious thoughts whirled about McKenzie’s mind, and her body trembled as she moved closer to the fire. “I don’t know, and I don’t know if I want to find out.”
“I’m not staying out here,” Sydney said, her gaze still fixed on the spot across the river.
“Me neither,” McKenzie said as goose bumps rippled up her arms. “Grab a flashlight, and let’s go.”
The girls sped up the dark lane that curved around the edge of the woods. The moonlight cast long, crooked shadows on the ground, their flashlights bobbing as they dodged the ruts. Though the lane was only half a mile long, it seemed to go on forever. Finally, McKenzie saw the light Miss Val had left on over the kitchen sink. They raced up the back steps of the house, slamming the door behind them.
McKenzie flipped on the ceiling light and leaned against the counter to catch her breath. Feeling thankful to be inside, she reached over to the door and flipped the deadbolt. A minute later, Miss Val appeared in the doorway wearing her bathrobe, yawning as her eyes adjusted to the light.
“What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Miss Val looked from one girl to the other.
“We used Kate’s night vision goggles and saw a man looking at us from across the stream,” McKenzie blurted out.
A worried look passed over Miss Val’s face. “Did you get a good look at him?”
“He might have had a beard, but I’m not sure. He was too far away,” McKenzie answered. “He was there, and then all of a sudden, he just…disappeared.”
“There are lots of homes back in the hills. It could have been one of the owners, but you girls sleep here tonight. I’ll go down to the campsite and put the fire out. I’ll leave the tent for tomorrow.” Miss Val hurried upstairs to change and then drove down to the creek.
The girls sat at the kitchen table waiting for Miss Val to return. McKenzie breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Miss Val’s headlights come back up the lane.
As she lay in bed that night, McKenzie heard a coyote somewhere in the hills. Crickets and bullfrogs sang their nightly songs. She stared out the window at the moon pasted in the sky, thinking about the events of the evening.
“Sydney,” McKenzie whispered, leaning up on one elbow. The sound of Sydney’s steady breathing met her ears. McKenzie flopped back on the bed. How can she be asleep already? Her mind whirled with the thoughts of the strange man across the creek. Was he a homeowner from back in the hills, or was he watching them? She finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Early the next morning, just after sunrise, McKenzie’s cell phone rang. “Hello,” she mumbled into the receiver.
“Hey, McKenzie. This is Shara. I got called in to work with one of the horses, and we have several people on vacation. Would you be able to come in and help for a couple of hours?”
McKenzie yawned and rolled onto her back. “Sure. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up in about forty-five minutes. Tell Sydney she can come along too if she wants,” Shara said. “Oh, by the way, when I left work last night, I heard several people talking about seeing the mystery rider on a horse. They also heard the rebel yell.”
McKenzie sat up in bed, suddenly alert. “Did anybody get a good look at the guy?”
“Nope. Like usual, he got away.”
After hanging up, McKenzie turned to Sydney, huddled in a ball beneath the covers. McKenzie threw her pillow at her friend. “Hey, wake up. We’re going to work.”
By the time Shara arrived, the girls had eaten breakfast and were waiting on the front porch. Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of the Dixie Showcase. Only a few employees’ cars were there so early, so Shara ushered them in through the employees’ back entrance.
Shara glanced at the girls’ shoes. “We have to hose down some stalls, and you two will need boots. Why don’t you go check the supply room and meet me at the stables?”
McKenzie led Sydney in the opposite direction down the hallway. Their tennis shoes squeaked on the concrete floors. The first performance wasn’t scheduled for several hours. Except for a few voices from the stables, the Dixie Showcase building stood silent.
As they approached the supply room, McKenzie heard a shuffling sound inside the arena.
What’s going on in there? McKenzie wondered. The workers don’t come in until much later.
She stepped through the doorway.
Something is different, but what? McKenzie asked herself anxiously. At first she didn’t see anything, but then she noticed someone had taken down all the United States flags.
She swept her gaze around the arena and gasped as she recognized the figure on the far side replacing them with Confederate flags!
“Nat!” McKenzie exclaimed. “What are you doing?”
Nat turned and stared at the girls. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re working,” McKenzie answered, walking into the arena. “So, you’re the ghost of old Beau Hatfield? Why are you playing these tricks?”
Nat looked at the girls. For a minute, McKenzie thought he wasn’t going to answer. “Because my great-great-grandpa was a drummer boy in the Civil War. The North was wrong to start that war with the South, so my great-great-grandpa told his grandson, my grandpa Beau Hatfield, to keep the war alive. Now, I’m doing my part.”
McKenzie looked at Sydney and then back at Nat. Suddenly, she felt sorry for him. “What do your parents think?”
Nat mumbled as he looked at the ground, “They think I need to forget about the whole thing.”
“I think they’re right,” McKenzie said softly. “I know it’s hard to forgive people when they’ve hurt us, but I know you’ll feel better. I always do.”
Nat raked his shoe through the dirt and didn’t say anything. He turned his back to the girls and leaned on the arena railing.
“Are you going to tell Mr. Stewart you’ve been changing the flags?” Sydney asked.
Nat shrugged his shoulders and didn’t answer. McKenzie looked at Sydney and sighed. “We have to go to work now, Nat. I guess we’ll see you around.”
The girls turned and headed toward the doorway. A grim feeling washed over McKenzie, realizing that Nat was upset about something that had happened well over a century earlier.
“Hey,” Nat called out. “I’ll think about the things you said.”
McKenzie smiled and waved. She said a silent prayer that Nat would forgive the people who had hurt his ancestors so long ago.
After the girls finished helping Shara in the stables, she dropped them off at Silver Dollar City to find Miss Val. The older girl promised to pick McKenzie up around 2:00 to take her to work.
“You girls have until 1:00 to run around,” Miss Val said when they arrived at the basket shop. “Then you can help me out, Sydney.”
“Oh, good. That gives us several hours to ride the rides and check out the crafters,” McKenzie exclaimed.
“What do you want to do first?” Sydney asked.
“I saw an old-fashioned photography booth the other day. We can dress up in old-time clothing and have our picture taken. Do you want to do that?” McKenzie
asked as they wandered through the crowd.
Sydney readily agreed. When the girls reached the shop, they saw racks of pioneer dresses and southern belle dresses on one side of the shop. Men’s pants, knickers, and topcoats hung on a separate rack.
“Ooh, I want this one!” McKenzie pulled out a navy blue gown with white trim. She slipped it on over her shorts and tank top. Then she grabbed a red feather boa and flung it around her neck. “How do I look?”
Sydney looked up after slipping on a yellow dress with tiny brown flowers, laughing as she tied a green bonnet on her head. The photographer asked them to climb onto the seat of a covered wagon and pose. She instructed them not to smile, just like the old-timers, and took their picture.
“Your print should be ready in a few minutes,” the photographer said. “You can hang your outfits back on the rack.”
While they waited for the picture, McKenzie spotted an album on the counter. She thumbed through it while the photographer helped other customers.
“Look at these pictures,” she said with a laugh. “They’re hilarious. I hope ours turn out that well.”
Sydney peered over her shoulder as she flipped through the pages. “Hey.” She pointed a finger at a woman in the picture. “Doesn’t that look like the lady at the candle shop—Tessa, the one wearing the bracelet we admired?”
McKenzie leaned in closer. “Yes, it does. She’s easy to recognize in old-fashioned clothes, but I wonder who the guy is that she’s with.”
McKenzie stared at the tall, bearded man. Why does he look familiar? she thought. I’m sure I haven’t seen him before, but there’s something about his eyes.
Sydney bent her head to one side. “Does he look a little like Shara?”
McKenzie paused for a moment, studying the picture. He does have Shara’s eyes! “Yes, that’s why he looks familiar. Do you think this guy is Reggie Ford?”
“Why don’t we show this picture to Shara? Maybe she would recognize him, even though she hasn’t seen him for thirteen years,” Sydney said.
McKenzie nodded as she peered closer at the photo. “It’s worth a try. I’ll show it to her when she comes to pick me up. You know, this also looks kind of like the guy who was staring at us from across the creek last night.”
Finally the photographer handed them their picture. McKenzie giggled as she studied it. “We look just like girls from the 1800s. The Camp Club Girls will love this.”
After spending the next two hours riding roller coasters and eating corn dogs, they headed to the basket shop.
“Do you have a computer in here, Miss Val?” McKenzie asked. “Would you care if I use it until Shara gets here since Sydney is going to be working?”
“Sure,” Miss Val said, tying on an apron. “You can go right in the office in the back.”
Five minutes later, McKenzie had logged on to the Camp Club Girls’ chat room. Elizabeth and Kate were busy chatting back and forth.
McKenzie quickly told her friends about the stranger at the creek the night before. Then she mentioned the old-fashioned picture she and Sydney had seen at Silver Dollar City.
McKenzie: I think the man in the picture might have been Reggie Ford. Maybe the woman with him is his wife or girlfriend. That would explain why she cares so much about him.
Elizabeth: I think you’ve got a point. That definitely makes sense.
Kate: Now we just need to find out where he lives. Can you find out her name, McKenzie, or if she’s married to Mr. Ford?
McKenzie: I could ask Miss Val if she knows her, but she’s doing a demonstration now, and I won’t have a chance to talk to her until tonight. I’d better go. I need to call Shara and see if she can meet me at the photography shop. Hopefully, she can tell if the man in the picture is her uncle.
Elizabeth: Ok. Keep us posted.
After signing off, McKenzie called Shara. Sydney stepped into the office.
“Guess what? Miss Val doesn’t need me for a while. She said I can go help the baker or the candle maker, so guess what I chose!” Sydney’s dark eyes flashed as she bounced on her tiptoes. Before McKenzie could answer, Sydney announced, “The candle maker! Now maybe I can find out something about the mystery lady.”
“Great!” McKenzie exclaimed. “Shara is on her way to meet me at the photography shop. Hopefully, we’ll both have more information when we see each other tonight.”
The girls told Miss Val goodbye and went their separate ways. By the time McKenzie reached the photography store, Shara was weaving her way through the crowd.
“I’ve got to show you this picture we found.” McKenzie clutched her older friend’s arm and led her to the counter. She quickly fumbled through the photo album and found the picture she was looking for. “Look. Is there any chance this could be your uncle?”
Shara peered closely at the bushy-bearded man, and her eyes lit up as she turned to McKenzie. “The last picture I saw of him was taken years ago, but this does look like him. He looks so much like my mom, even though they’re not identical twins, just fraternal twins.”
McKenzie felt her jaw drop. “Your mom and Reggie are twins?”
“Yes,” Shara answered with surprise. “Didn’t I tell you that?”
“No, but that explains the twin carvings we’ve found, but I’ll tell you about that later,” McKenzie said.
Shara spoke to the woman rearranging the old-fashioned clothing on the racks. “Do you know the names of the people in this picture or when it was taken?”
The woman shook her head as she glanced at the picture. “No, we don’t keep track of the names. We just put a few pictures out for advertising, but I’d say it was probably taken within the last three or four months.”
Shara thanked the woman and turned back to McKenzie. “Well, at least we know Uncle Reggie is in town. I want to find him so badly, but it bothers me that he doesn’t want to find us.”
“I wish he knew your family has forgiven him for leaving. Then maybe he would want to keep in touch,” McKenzie said, trying to sound hopeful.
Shara nodded and stepped out of the shop. “But he needs to forgive them too. I’m starting to think we’re never going to find him.”
“We can’t give up yet. Sydney and I found a man who has twin fairy carvings of your Uncle Reggie’s,” McKenzie told Shara all about the house by the lake as they walked through the crowd to the parking lot. “He just has to be somewhere around Branson. We’ll find him.”
The girls rode in silence the rest of the way to the Showcase. After Shara had parked, she headed to the stables while McKenzie walked toward the back entrance and the dressing room. Her cell phone rang.
“Hi, Sydney,” she said as her friend’s name flashed across the screen. “What’s up?”
“Boy, am I ever glad I went to work at the candle shop! I found out all sorts of stuff. I know who wrote that note and stuck it in our mailbox. It’s Tessa Richardson, that woman who works in the shop. I saw her write her name—she dots each i with a little circle!”
The Accident
For a few seconds, McKenzie couldn’t speak.
“So, she really did write the note,” she finally answered.
Sydney continued, “I also noticed she was wearing an engagement ring. I asked the woman I was working with who Tessa Richardson is marrying. She said his name is Dwight Cramer. I thought for sure it would be Reggie Ford. Isn’t that weird?”
McKenzie’s mind raced. She didn’t know what to think. Something isn’t right with this story, she thought. Why is Tessa Richardson so concerned about Mr. Ford if she’s engaged to someone else?
Before McKenzie could answer, Sydney continued, “I can’t talk anymore. I took a quick break so I could call you. I have to go dip candles. Talk to you tonight.”
McKenzie’s thoughts whirled. There had to be a logical explanation. But what? She sent a text message to Kate, telling her the latest developments and asking her to inform the other Camp Club Girls. Maybe between all of them, they could figure this out.
One of the girls in the performance began talking to McKenzie. She only half-listened to the girl’s chatter.
While Mrs. Kelly did her hair and makeup, McKenzie said little. She was thankful that one of the women in the show had come over to chitchat with the hair stylist. McKenzie felt too confused to carry on a conversation with anyone.
The minute Mrs. Kelly had finished, McKenzie flew down the hallway, her button-up shoes clicking on the floor.
She found her trainer waiting with Azur. More than ever, she knew she would have to concentrate on her performance today, and that could be tough. Her mind was filled with thoughts of solving the missing persons case.
She swung herself onto the saddle. Gripping the reins, she focused on the act, sitting straight and tall on Azur’s back. She darted through the open doors into the arena. The pounding of the horses’ hooves thumped in perfect rhythm. She barely noticed the other girls on their horses as they rode in unison.
McKenzie raced around the arena, the skirt of her plantation gown flowing behind her. She felt her heavily gelled ringlets bouncing against her back. Azur performed flawlessly.
When the performance ended, McKenzie rode her horse out of the arena. The applause and cheers rang in her ears. After handing Azur over to her trainer, she lifted her skirts and ran toward the stables.
She spotted Shara at the far end pitching fresh hay into a stall.
“Shara,” McKenzie cried, racing down the aisle. “Does the name Dwight Cramer mean anything to you?”
Shara leaned on her pitchfork and thought for a minute. “My grandma’s last name was Cramer before she married Grandpa. I think my Uncle Reggie’s middle name is Dwight. Why do you ask?”
