Trixie Belden 02 - The Red Trailer Mystery (The Red Caravan Mystery)

by Julie Campbell (v1. 0) (epub)

  Chapter 8

  The Black Sentinel

  A low branch slapped Trixie in the face as Prince raced up the road with the collie barking at his heels. Tears of pain filled her blue eyes and for a moment she was blinded. Clinging desperately to the saddle with her knees and pulling in the reins with all her might and main, she got out a few weak ­Whoa's,­and then she saw that Honey, a few yards ahead of her, had managed to halt Peanuts in front of a rambling white frame farmhouse.

  Trixie sighed with relief. ­Prince will stop when he catches up with Peanuts,­she thought, bracing herself. Prince was, in fact, already slowing from a dead run to a more sensible gait when a large black crow suddenly swooped down from a cherry tree beside the house. With a loud, defiant ­Caw!­ the crow flapped its widespread wings in Prince's startled face.

  The horse shied violently and the next thing Trixie knew she was sprawling in the gravel driveway. The angry collie skidded to a stop beside her and stood there, growling threateningly, while the crow, from its perch in the tree, screamed insults down at her.

  If I lie perfectly still,­Trixie decided in desperation, ­the collie probably won't come any nearer, but I wouldn't trust that crow. He's as mad as a hornet and he could do a nice job on my face with his beak and claws.

  And then she heard a woman's voice calling from the farmhouse, ­Laddie, Laddie! Come right here to me, you naughty dog, frightening that poor little girl. Don't worry, child, he wouldn't hurt a flea. His bark is worse than his bite.­

  The collie, tail drooping, head lowered in shame, trotted obediently to his mistress. Trixie, keeping one eye cautiously on the bird in the tree, rolled to a sitting position.

  An enormously fat woman with bright red cheeks and snapping black eyes was hurrying as fast as her weight would allow her down the back steps. ­You poor lamb,­ she crooned breathlessly. ­I saw the whole thing from the kitchen window. It was that crow's fault, the black pest.­She shook a plump, dimpled fist up at the cherry tree. ­Just wait till I get my hands on you, Jimmy, I'll make you into a pie so fast you'll never know what happened to you.­

  Jimmy Crow shifted back and forth on his perch as though rocking with laughter. Then with a hoarse, derisive ­Caw!­he swooped down on an innocent little garter snake that was wriggling through the grass under the cherry tree.

  By this time his mistress had reached Trixie's side. ­Are you all right, lamb?­she asked worriedly. ­Such a tumble! You did a complete somersault in mid-air. It's a wonder you didn't break every bone in your body!­

  Trixie laughed and scrambled to her feet. ­I'm all right,­she said, ­but your pet crow had me scared for a while.­

  ­My pet, indeed!­the fat woman sniffed. ­It's my husband who has adopted the loudmouthed pest, and the pest has adopted me. He knows I don't like him so he follows me every step I take. I tell you it gets on my nerves, or at least it would if I were not so fat that I haven't any nerves.­She laughed loudly at her own joke and patted Trixie's arm. ­I'm Mrs. Nat Smith,­she said, gasping for breath. ­And you must come into the house and have some lemonade and cookies. If I do say so myself, I make the best chocolate oatmeal cookies in the county.­ She glanced down the road, her black eyes sparkling. ­Your friend will be back as soon as she catches your horse, and then we'll have a nice tea party in my kitchen.­

  ­We'd love it,­Trixie said as she followed Mrs. Smith to the back steps. ­But won't it be too much trouble?

  I know how busy a farmer's wife must be all the time. We have a small farm farther down the river. just a vegetable garden and about forty chickens, but it's an awful lot of work.­

  Mrs. Smith nodded as she began a slow, ponderous ascent of the steps. ­Work, work, work from morning till night,­she panted. ­I tell Nat he's too old now to keep up that pace, but you can't stop him. And now with the beans all ready to be picked our hired hand fell out of a tree and broke his leg.­She grunted in disgust as she heaved her bulk through the door and collapsed into a huge rocking chair beside the stove. ­Wouldn't you know that good-for-nothing boy would pick a time like this to climb one of those half-dead trees down in the orchard?­

  ­Oh,­Trixie asked, ­does that old orchard belong to your property?­

  ­Indeed it does,­the woman said, ­although we haven't got an apple out of it for these past six years, and the boy knew as well as I do that it's not safe to climb those half-dead trees.­Having regained her breath, Mrs. Smith shuffled to the refrigerator and produced a gallon jug of lemonade. She pointed to an enormous crock on the other side of the long, sunny kitchen. ­Get out some cookies, will you, my dear? That copper tray on the wall behind you will do nicely. I'm not one for platters. They just don't hold enough. I always say if you're going to take the time to eat at all you might as well eat all you can hold.

  Trixie heaped thick oatmeal cookies, dotted with chunks of chocolate, on the tray and brought it to the table while Mrs. Smith filled tall glasses with ice-cold lemonade. ­These are the most delicious things I've ever tasted,­Trixie said between munches and sips.

  Mrs. Smith beamed. ­That's what our hired hand used to say about everything I cooked. Poor boy! I'm sorry he had to go and hurt himself, and of course we're paying his hospital bills and his salary as well while his leg's in the cast, but I must say if he had to fall out of a tree he might have picked a time when we didn't need help so badly. All those beans!­ She folded her hands in her snowy apron and rocked back and forth in despair.

  ­Why do you suppose he did such a foolish thing?­Trixie asked. ­Even I have sense enough to stay out of a dying tree.­

  ­That's the worst part of it,­Mrs. Smith told her. ­He gave as his reason that he thought he saw a tramp down in the field below the orchard. Now what would a tramp be doing down there? A tramp can smell as well as the next person, and even a blind one could find his way to my kitchen door and ask for food. But does that idiot boy figure that out? No, he climbs a rotten tree to get a better view of the field, and that's that!

  A tramp, Trixie thought. Could it have been the bushy-haired man or Jeff? Aloud she asked, ­Is there an abandoned barn in the field below the orchard?­

  Mrs. Smith glanced at her sharply. ­A barn way off down there? Why would anyone build a barn so far away from the crops?­

  ­I just thought it might have been used to store apples in when the orchard was bearing fruit,­Trixie said. ­And a tramp might have been living in the barn.­

  Mrs. Smith rocked back and forth for a minute.

  ­Well,­she said, ­if there is I never saw it, but of course, I haven't been able to walk that far since I began to put on weight about ten years ago, and we bought this place shortly after that.­She leaned forward a little. ­You'd never believe it, but once I was as slim as your honey haired friend. This is the first time I've ever regretted my size. If it weren't for that, I'd be down there picking beans with Nat right now.­

  ­Honey and I'll help pick them,­Trixie cried impulsively.

  ­Now that's real sweet of you,­Mrs. Smith said with a broad smile. ­But you two young things couldn't stand the heat in that unprotected garden. There's not an ounce of shade except over the cucumber hills. And didn't I tell you that the good Lord, seeing our plight, sent us help last night?

  Trixie shook her head. ­No, you didn't, but I'm glad you won't lose the bean crop.­

  Mrs. Smith crinkled her red face into a puzzled frown. ­Now, I'm sure I told you when we came in not to slam the screen door for fear of waking the children who are upstairs taking their naps.­

  It was Trixie's turn now to look puzzled. ­What children?­

  ­Why, the Darnells', of course,­Mrs. Smith cried impatiently. ­Three of the sweetest lambs you've ever seen, at least they will be when I feed them up. And, you know, my dear, I did tell you about the little boy's cold. That's why I had the lemonade all made. And I remember distinctly telling you how the little girl gobbled up my cookies.­

  Confused, Trixie wondered if she had perhaps received a bad blow on the head when Pri
nce threw her, and was suffering from a momentary loss of memory. ­I'm sorry,­ she began, but Mrs. Smith suddenly burst into gales of laughter.

  ­It's as Nat says,­she got out between chuckles.

  I'm alone so much since the boys grew up and went away from home, that I talk to myself and then I accuse him of not listening even though he wasn't in the house at the time.­She lumbered to her feet, her sharp black eyes snapping. ­Here comes your honey-haired friend back with the horses. Just run out and help her tie them to that hitching post in front. Take off their bridles and let the poor things graze on the lawn. You'll find halters and rope hanging beside the back steps.­

  Trixie did as she was told. ­Honey,­she giggled, ­thanks a lot for catching Prince, but let's not talk about that now. Mrs. Smith is the most wonderful person I ever knew although sometimes I don't know what she's talking about, but you never tasted such cookies and lemonade.­

  Honey stared at her as she slipped a halter over Peanuts's head. ­Frankly, I don't know what you're talking about. Who is Mrs. Smith?­

  ­The farmer's wife,­Trixie exploded. ­She and her husband own this place and the abandoned orchard. Come on! You'll love her. She's almost the fattest woman I ever saw, but she has such a pretty face and is so kindhearted!­Trixie pulled Honey along the driveway. There was no sign of the crow, but the collie, as friendly now as he had been angry before, trotted along beside them.

  ­Don't let that muddy animal inside my nice clean kitchen,­Mrs. Smith called from the other side of the screen door. But she made no protest when Laddie followed the girls inside and promptly curled up under the kitchen table as though he belonged there. ­I declare,­ she said, ­that dog is as spoiled as Jimmy Crow. I'll never forget the day Nat brought that pitiful little bird in to me. He had scarcely a feather-Jimmy, not Nat-and his long legs were too weak to hold up his round tummy. I was all for throwing him into the trash can but he croaked once as though he had the croup, and before I knew what I was doing I had wrapped him in flannel and was poking raw eggs into that big mouth of his.­ She handed Honey a glass of lemonade and waved a plump hand toward the mound of cookies on the copper tray. ­Sit down and eat, lamb,­she said. ­You're as slim as Mrs. Darnell, the poor little thing.

  ­Oh, yes,­Trixie reminded her. ­You were going to tell me about the Darnells when Honey came back.­Mrs. Smith settled down in the rocker and it creaked protestingly under her weight. ­That's right,­she said. ­And I may as well start at the beginning since Honey missed the first part. You see,­ she went on, ­our hired hand broke his leg just when the beans were ready to be picked. That was yesterday afternoon. Nat sent for an ambulance and went in with the boy to be sure he would be as comfortable as possible at the hospital. While he was gone it rained so hard I thought the roof would cave in. I'm not one to be frightened easily, mind you, but I'm so used to having men around the place, what with seven sons until the youngest ran off last spring and got married, so you can see how relieved I was, Honey dear, when I looked through the window behind you and saw a man's face.

  Honey shivered. ­I would have been scared to death.­She peered over her shoulder. ­All alone in this big house, miles from everywhere and in the pouring rain!­

  Mrs. Smith rocked with laughter. ­Scared, lamb? Why should I be scared of a pitiful creature who looked like a half-drowned shaggy-haired dog.­

  Honey choked on a cooky crumb and Trixie's eyes popped open. A shaggy-haired man! She couldn't believe her ears.

  I asked him right in, of course,­Mrs. Smith went on easily, ­and gave him hot coffee and made him change into dry clothes. While I was warming hash in the oven he explained to me that he was traveling north with his wife and three children in a trailer, and wouldn't you know it, they went off the main highway and got stuck in the mud! Men, I always say, are forever taking short cuts which never fail to take twice as long.

  Trixie gave Honey a quick look. ­Was he traveling in a red trailer? she put in as Mrs. Smith stopped for breath.

  ­How should I know?­Mrs. Smith demanded. ­When Nat came back from the hospital he dragged it out of the ditch with the tractor and put it in the barn.­She chuckled. ­I haven't walked as far as the barn since the dance we held there after young Nat's wedding and he has presented me with three grandchildren since then. But red or white it makes no difference. What is important is that Mr. Darnell borrowed the contraption so he could take his family with him while he looked for work on a farm upstate.­ She sighed with satisfaction. ­It was the answer to our prayer, of course, and Nat hired Mr. Darnell on the spot. While they were discussing the bean crop, I got Mrs. Darnell and the children settled upstairs. Such a joy it was to have someone in those empty bedrooms after all these years, and the house filled with the sound of children's voices.­She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. ­I've been lonely for so long and bored with cooking for just Nat and the hired man, I don't know what I'll do if that family ever leaves me.

  ­Oh, I'm sure they'll never do that,­Honey cried sympathetically. ­They must love being here.

  ­It's Mrs. Darnell who worries me,­Mrs. Smith went on. ­She's so frail-looking and yet she's down there picking beans with her husband. He's a grand worker, the best we ever had, and he and Nat will get the crop in all right without her help, although they did have to wait until the sun dried off the beans this morning on account of rust.­

  Trixie tried to gather her scattered thoughts. It must be the red trailer family, and if so, she should tell Mrs. Smith that Mr. Darnell had stolen the Robin. But somehow she couldn't do that. The Smiths needed help, the Darnells needed a home, and Mrs. Smith obviously loved having them here. Anyway, she quieted her conscience, how can I be absolutely sure that Mr Darnell is the same man we saw with the Robin?

  I have no business, she decided at last, causing a lot of people unhappiness until I actually see that trailer or someone in the Darnell family.

  Mrs. Smith was rambling on between enormous bites of cookies and gulps of lemonade. ­Such sickly little mites,­ she told Honey, who looked as though she were going to cry any minute. ­I told Mrs. Darnell that I would take entire charge of them and fatten them up while she took a good long rest. But no. She insisted upon making the beds and washing the dishes and now she's down there in this broiling sun picking beans. I tell you, it worries me.­ Suddenly her broad face was wreathed in smiles. ­One thing I did insist on, however, was cutting that poor man's hair. With seven sons I'm as good as any barber in the state, and the pitiful creature would have drowned in his own sweat if I hadn't taken shears and razor to him this morning.­She turned to Trixie. ­Would you believe it? That man is so devoted to his family and so short of cash, he hasn't spared the money for a haircut for two months!­She slapped the arms of the rocker resoundingly. ­Said it would be like taking food out of his babies' mouths to go to a barber. I never heard the like, did you?

  Trixie, on the verge of tears herself now, nodded dumbly. I don't care if he did steal that trailer, she told herself. Let the state troopers catch him. That's their business.

  Honey broke the silence with, ­Why couldn't he get work in some other part of the state?­

  Mrs. Smith's red face flamed with anger. ­He had plenty of work until he hurt his eye in an accident and had to have an operation. Worked a successful farm down the river a way. But when he fell behind in his rent, the landlord threatened to evict him. Imagine it, with all those children!­Outraged, Mrs. Smith heaved herself to her feet. ­And that reminds me, I must get those babies up for their juice and cod-liver oil.

  ­We must be starting home,­Honey said quickly. ­We've outstayed our welcome.­

  ­We've had a lovely time,­Trixie said. ­And thanks for everything.­

  ­Come again soon,­Mrs. Smith called to them and waved from the back door.

  The girls bridled their horses in a thoughtful silence and Honey held Prince's head while Trixie returned the halters and rope to the nail over the steps. Then she swung up on Prince's back and they trotted down
the driveway to the main road.

  ­We're only about a mile from Autoville,­Honey said. ­I found that out when I went after Prince. The

  Smith farm is north and west of where the big routes converge. It seems funny to me that the state troopers haven't stopped there to ask about a stolen red trailer.­

  ­It is funny,­Trixie agreed. ­Oh, Honey, do you think Mr. Darnell is Joeanne's father?­

  Honey's hazel eyes widened. ­Why, how could you think anything else, Trixie? He must be the same man with the crew cut who asked about her early this morning at Wilson Ranch.­

  Trixie sighed. ­Well then, we've got to tell Mrs. Smith that Mr. Darnell stole that trailer, and we ought to notify the police too.­

  Honey squared her slim shoulders. ­We won't do anything of the kind, Trixie Belden. That family has had enough trouble without our adding to it. If you set the police on him, they'll accuse him of all the other thefts. And I don't think he stole the trailer. You know perfectly well Mrs. Smith said he only borrowed the Robin until he could find a home for his family.

  Honey was emphatically expressing Trixie's own innermost thoughts on the subject, so she did not argue. But she could not stop the pricking of her conscience. Kindhearted Mrs. Smith at least ought to be told that she was entertaining a thief in her home.

  Unhappily Trixie walked her horse along the macadam road beside Honey. Deep down inside her she knew that she would have to return to the Smith farm the first thing in the morning.

  Chapter 9

  An Early Morning Call

  As the girls turned into the entrance to the trailer camp, a uniformed attendant at the gate handed Honey a letter.

  ­Air mail from Canada,­he said, ­and horses aren't allowed here. Should I return 'em for you?­