The Mystery of the Castaway Children

by Campbell, Julie

  “Davy must have used it for Dodgy’s diaper after he left the fly sheet at the inn,” Honey went on.

  “Smart little Davy,” moaned Trixie.

  And not-so-smart little Trixie, she thought with disgust. Fine detective she was—practically leading a kidnapper to helpless children and finding clues no longer needed!

  Before she could lecture herself any more, there was a sudden screech of tires in the driveway. The group on the lawn looked up to see a red sports car, with the top down, coming to a halt not far from them. The driver had a moustache and a bushy brown beard.

  “Roger Higgins!” Trixie gasped. She instinctively moved closer to Dodgy.

  “I do declare!” Roger called. He leaned back and spread an arm along the back of the car seat. “I’m returning your little visit. Polite of me, huh? I thought we might have a chat with our mutual friend, Moses White.” His glance swung from Dodgy to the pony that browsed near the fence. “But I see you already have company. I’ll just have to come back another time!”

  He spun his car around, the wheels kicking up gravel, and left as quickly as he had come. “What’s mutual?” Bobby wanted to know.

  Trixie was so angry and frightened that she couldn’t answer.

  “Two people feeling or doing the same thing at the same time,” explained Brian.

  “Then I mutual that guy,” Bobby said. “I don’t like him, same as he doesn’t like us.”

  “Me, too, Bobby,” Trixie said. “I don’t mutual that man.” Then she pounded her bare knees with both fists. “Oh, what are we to do? He saw both Dodgy and Wicky, and he must think Davy’s here, too. We cant wait for Davy to come in on his own, even though the sergeant thinks he will.”

  “Did he give us a direct order to wait?” Honey asked.

  When Trixie’s sandy curls shook, Dan got to his feet. “We’ve waited long enough then,” he declared.

  Leaving Dan and Di behind to protect Dodgy, the others began a thorough scouring of the grounds around Crabapple Farm.

  Even Bobby joined in the search, staying as close as he could to Mart. Trixie chose the woods area nearest the doghouse. She shouted her throat raw in calling for Davy, but there was never a sound to be heard except the same calls from the other Bob-Whites.

  In the early dusk, the group met in the kitchen, tired, hungry, and discouraged. They fixed more sandwiches and shared their findings.

  Brian had noticed several apple cores in the orchard. Jim held up a shoelace that nobody claimed. Mart presented Jim’s beach towel, which Honey and Trixie recalled seeing at the boathouse.

  “Well, I found it on the flat roof of the chicken house, behind the tool shed,” Mart said.

  That s where I found the napkin,” Bobby put in. “And where I found this!” He thrust forward a carrot top with only a rim of orange left below the greenery.

  The towel was folded into a mattress,” said Mart. “He must have slept here last night.” Trixie was so tired that tears seemed to be the only relief. It s all my fault, she wailed. “I should never have gone near those auctioneers!” Then she straightened up in her chair. “I almost forgot—the sergeant said to call him if anything went wrong. I guess it’s time to call.”

  This time, the sergeant didn’t roar when Trixie explained the latest developments. “Okay, now listen to me,” he commanded. “I’m calling your parents to have them bring the Dodges here. And I want all of you to pile into that station wagon of yours and bring the baby to the police station. Don’t leave anybody at the farm who might be held as a hostage. It seems that Roger Higgins chose the worst possible company for his poker game. They were all ex-cons from the state penitentiary. Roger owes money to one named Sax Jenner, who got out last month. So just do what I say, and don’t waste any time about it.”

  “But what about Davy?” Trixie blurted.

  “I have men looking for him. Now, move!”

  Trixie hung up and relayed the sergeant’s orders to the others. They immediately stopped eating and started getting ready to go. Trixie raced to her room to get a jacket. On her way up the stairs, she glanced back through the open door of the guest room.

  She shouted to the red T-shirt bending over Dodgy’s basket, “Bobby, don’t try to lift Dodgy! Brian will carry him.” As she reached the top of the stairs, she heard the slam of the downstairs bathroom door. Jacket in hand, she ran back down the stairs and met Brian in the hall, with Dodgy in his arms.

  “Everybody else is in the wagon,” he told her.

  “ ’Cept me,” Bobby said. He went to the refrigerator for the baby’s next bottle and snatched up a box of diapers from the counter. The last one into the Bob-White station wagon, he slid into the front seat next to Trixie.

  Jim drove as fast as he could without going over the speed limit. They had made it as far as the outskirts of Sleepyside, when headlights blinded Jim briefly. The lights dazzled Trixie’s eyes, too. Beside her, Bobby’s T-shirt was a white blob.

  “Idiot!” Jim muttered.

  Brian twisted in his seat and said, “That looked like—”

  “I know. That red job of Roger Higgins’s,” Jim said, glancing into his rearview mirror.

  Red.

  Jim had said “red”!

  Suddenly Trixie turned to Bobby. “When did you change your T-shirt?”

  Before lunch,” Bobby said. “Moms made me.”

  “But it isn’t red!” Trixie said.

  “It never was,” Bobby retorted.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure, I’m sure. It’s my T-shirt!”

  “What is this—” Brian began.

  “Turn around, Jim!" Trixie yelled.

  The others swiveled their heads toward her.

  “Trixie!” Mart exploded.

  “I thought the sergeant said to come straight to the station,” Honey said, her voice rising in alarm.

  “And,” Trixie shouted, “he said not to leave anybody in the house who could be taken as hostage, and Davy Dodge is in our house!

  Hostages ● 14

  SURROUNDED BY SHOCKED SILENCE, Trixie lowered her voice to a whisper. “Please—I saw him there,” she pleaded.

  “Okay,” Jim sighed. He swung into a driveway, backed out, and started toward the farm. “Something tells me we should go to the station first, then to the farm, but—”

  “Hurry!” croaked Trixie.

  “Look up there,” Dan said. “Looks like Higgins was turning around to come after us.”

  Sure enough, the red sports car had pulled into a driveway. The minute Jim passed it, however, it moved back onto the road, accelerating to catch up to the station wagon.

  “He’s following us!” Honey gasped.

  Jim increased his speed. Dodgy broke into a fretful whimpering.

  From the backseat of the Bob-White station wagon, Mart said sharply, “Watch it, Jim. Those headlights are coming up on us awfully fast.”

  “I know,” Jim said tensely. “I’ve been trying to shake him, but he just hangs in there.” He gritted his teeth. “He’s got us trapped!”

  Suddenly the whole interior of the wagon was flooded with light that blazed into Jim’s eyes. “Shift that mirror!” he snapped at Trixie.

  Trixie obeyed, watching those freckled hands on the steering wheel and praying silently. If anyone can get us out of this nightmare, Jim can....

  “Don’t slow down,” warned Brian. “He can’t miss hitting us.”

  “I’m sorry, gang,” said Jim, his voice cracking a little. “All I can do is stay on the road and hope I have time to make the turn at the mailbox. Hang on, everyone!”

  He negotiated a curve in the road, sending gravel flying but still managing to keep the car upright. Brian doubled over to shield Dodgy more effectively.

  “If ever we needed Sergeant Molinson to check my speed, this is the time,” Jim muttered.

  “There’s the mailbox,” Trixie said as she wrapped her arms around Bobby and braced herself for the turn into the farm lane.

&nb
sp; Jim clenched the steering wheel tighter and, without braking, swerved into the*lane. The red car shot past, still on Glen Road. Jim immediately slammed on the brakes.

  “Watch it, Jim!” Mart complained loudly.

  “You want me to kill that kid?” Jim yelled back.

  Trixie gulped down her fright and raised her head. The long black tail of the Shetland was so close to the station wagon that she couldn’t believe Jim had missed hitting him. A small figure wearing a red T-shirt was sliding off the pony and making a dash for the bushes.

  Without another word, Jim leaped out of his seat and dragged the boy, kicking and screaming, back to the car.

  As Jim shoved him into the front seat, the boy cried, “I wasn’t stealing Wicky, honest I wasn’t. He’s mine!”

  “It’s okay, Davy,” Trixie said. “Just stay put. We have to get you to the police station. Come on, Jim! Let’s get out of here!”

  “It’s too late,” Jim announced grimly, watching his rearview mirror.

  The others swiveled around in time to see the red sports car careening into the lane behind them.

  “Now we’re really trapped!” wailed Di.

  As the red car jerked to a halt, a bulky figure hurtled out of the driver’s seat and rushed toward the darkness of the house. A second, smaller figure approached the Bob-Whites’ car. “Lock your doors, everyone,” urged Trixie.

  A man with a face Trixie had never seen peered through the window of the station wagon. “Into the house, kids,” he ordered, tapping the glass with a gun. “Very slowly. Don’t pull any fancy tricks. And give me those car keys.”

  The group had no choice but to obey. With her heart knocking the breath from her throat, Trixie grabbed Bobby’s hand. She saw Mart reach for Davy’s. Brian’s strong arms were wrapped around Dodgy. Cautiously the group began its way to the porch.

  Trixie had a flashing impression of movement.

  After an instant of panic, she realized that Jim had disappeared. Where could he be? she thought wildly. Then she remembered his ten-speed, still leaning against the porch.

  As Trixie stumbled forward, her mind worked desperately on the problem of escaping without endangering lives, but for the moment, she pinned her faith on Jim. Jim had headlights on his ten-speed, and he knew every twist and turn of that bicycle path. In daylight, his downhill speed had been clocked at forty-five miles per hour.

  Unless he was upset by a wandering porcupine or a startled deer, he would reach the telephone at Glen Road Inn in a matter of minutes.

  “You’re hurting my hand,” Bobby mumbled.

  “We have to stick together,” Trixie told him.

  Finally the group entered the Belden kitchen. The light flashed on, and the young people instinctively gathered around the baby, who looked ready to scream any minute.

  The man with the gun followed them in and surveyed the room. “Well, well, well,” he said in a voice that sounded almost friendly. “What have we here?”

  Trixie had figured out that this must be Sax Jenner, the ex-convict the sergeant had mentioned. He was short and slim and deceptively handsome. Roger Higgins appeared in the doorway, and Sax turned on him, demanding, “Where’s that redheaded kid?”

  “Who cares?” Roger retorted. “I just happened to bump into some bicycle tires with my knife.” Trixie’s heart sank.

  “Jim can ride a horse!” Bobby piped up. Quickly Trixie clamped her hand over Bobby’s unshushable mouth.

  Roger winked at Bobby. “Those horses out there by the fence looked kind of lonesome,” he said, “so I opened the gate and sent them home.” Trixie caught her breath. Oh, well. Surely Regan would know that something was wrong when those valuable animals returned home at this hour of the night without any riders. Maybe he would call the police. Anyway, maybe Jim had managed to get away in Brian’s jalopy.

  Just then, Roger threw a sly look at Sax. “I also got rid of the gas in the jalopy,” he said. “I’ve been a busy boy, you know.” He tossed Sax the car keys. “Now it’s your turn to get busy,” he said.

  Sax twirled his gun, an evil smirk on his face.

  “Think you’ll need die persuader?”

  “Depends on your plan,” Roger answered warily. It was obvious to Trixie that Roger didn’t particularly want to handle the gun.

  Sax pretended to consider the problem, but Trixie sensed that he knew exactly what he was going to do. His voice made him seem friendly, but those eyes were as cold as snake eyes. Finally he announced, “We’re going to get that Dodge money, one way or another. All we were going to do was hold on to those two Dodge kids, but now—well, now we’ve got a chance to raise a whole hunk of money from the parents of all these kids!”

  Trixie saw Brian’s arms tremble at Sax’s threat. Sax grinned boldly at Roger. “In other words, we have to keep this bunch under control, don’t we? It’ll be simple!” With a quick change of mood, he stalked across the kitchen and poked the gun at Bobby’s chest. Coldly he told Trixie, “Turn loose of that hand, sis, or he’s had it.”

  “Y-You’ll have to kill me, too!” Trixie said, clutching Bobby’s hand even tighter. She could hear moaning sounds coming from Bobby. She glanced down and saw that he wasn’t crying. Bobby Belden was angry.

  “I don’t mutual you!” Bobby yelled as he kicked Sax in the shins.

  “Don’t make him mad, Bobby!” begged Trixie. “I can handle the kid—it’s you that’s making me mad, sis,” Sax sneered. “Let go of him.” Trixie obeyed.

  “I gotta go to the bathroom!” Bobby roared. Sax looked disgusted. “Take him,” he told Roger, “but make it snappy.”

  While Bobby and Roger were out of the room, Sax’s snake eyes flicked from one face to another. When he noticed Mart’s hand inching toward the knife rack on the wall, Sax warned silkily, “Don’t bother, kid.”

  “Oh, Mart, keep your temper,” Di pleaded. “You’d better ask him to do the same, Di,” muttered Dan. “This little man has seen too many shoot-’em-ups.”

  For the first time, Sax’s anger flared. “Higgins!” he shouted. “Bring that kid back here so I can get going!”

  Bobby caused as much commotion as possible when Roger dragged him back to the kitchen, and Dodgy began to wail.

  “Look what you did!” Davy shrieked at Sax. “I’m sorry,” said Sax with mock concern. “But I must be on my way. I’m receiving a donation of twenty thousand beautiful green ones!” He picked up Bobby’s jump rope, which was hanging over the back of a chair. Sax tossed the rope to Roger, who started to tie Bobby’s hands behind his back.

  “Put it around his neck,” Sax suggested, “so you can jerk it if anybody gets a brainstorm about tackling you.”

  Roger looped the jump rope around Bobby’s neck, a smile showing between his beard and moustache. “While I’m here, I’ll start writing the notes to their daddies. They were so polite about bringing one to mine!”

  “You do that,” Sax said. His gun in one hand, he saluted smartly with the other and stepped backward through the screen door, grinning from ear to ear.

  Then, to everyone’s amazement, Sax twitched as though he’d received an electric shock, and his grin changed to a look of dismay.

  A familiar voice, coming from behind Sax, barked, “Drop that gun!”

  The weapon clattered to the floor as Sax’s hands shot into the air and were immediately fastened with handcuffs.

  Roger Higgins looked as though he couldn’t decide whether to reach for the gun on the floor or to try to escape into the rest of the house.

  As his grasp tightened on the rope around Bobby’s neck, Sergeant Molinson and another police officer stormed into the kitchen. An instant later, Roger’s hands were also handcuffed.

  Dizzy with relief, Trixie rushed to Bobby and hugged his sturdy body. While the others followed her example, Davy pulled on Brian’s sleeve.

  “Please let me touch Dodgy,” Davy said shyly.

  Brian sat down in a kitchen chair and held out the crying baby. Davy laid his cheek
against the baby’s and crooned, “Oh, Dodgy, I’ve missed you. Don’t cry—you’re safe now.”

  Trixie gulped when Dodgy stopped crying. The baby seemed to recognize Davy’s voice and touch. This was what she had been working for— the reuniting of a family.

  The sergeant held out a big solid hand to Trixie. She placed hers in it for a bone-crunching handshake.

  Trixie put an arm around Davy’s shoulders. She said, “This is Davy Dodge.”

  The sergeant bent down to shake Davy’s hand, too. “Am I glad to meet you!” he said gruffly.

  “Where’s Jim?” Trixie asked suddenly.

  “I told you we should have kept track of that redheaded kid!” Sax growled at Roger.

  Sergeant Molinson ordered both handcuffed men to sit down and keep quiet. Then he turned back to Trixie. “We passed Jim on the road,” he said. “He waved us on. He looked beat. I knew something was wrong when you people didn’t show up at the station like you were supposed to. Seeing Jim alone on Glen Road confirmed my suspicion, and we got over here as fast as we could.”

  Even as the sergeant was explaining, Jim walked in through the screen door. He glistened with perspiration and was so tired that Trixie could count each freckle on his face. When Jim saw the handcuffed men, his green eyes blazed with fierce pride. “We did it again, gang!” he panted.

  “Thank you, Jim,” Trixie said. “Thank you, James Winthrop Frayne.”

  “You are welcome, Beatrix Belden,” Jim said quietly.

  “Only my dad says Beatrix,” Bobby put in.

  “And f-friends who risk their necks for you,” Trixie corrected Bobby shakily.

  Right behind Jim came Mr. and Mrs. Belden and Eileen and David Dodge.

  “Are you kids all right?” Peter shouted.

  “Our boys, David!Both our boys!” Eileen choked. Her shaking arms enveloped Davy, while David’s hands reached instantly for Dodgy.

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” Eileen sobbed, “and here I am.”

  “You’re entitled to tears, Eileen,” the sergeant said gently.

  Trixie looked around. The only dry eyes in the room belonged to Roger and Sax, and they were staring straight ahead. Trixie couldn’t help scowling at the prisoners. Sax returned the stare coldly, but Roger looked embarrassed. Trixie decided that Roger was really more of a weakling than a criminal.