The Secret of Shadow Ranch

by Carolyn G. Keene

  Tex gave a piercing whistle. George and Nancy burst into laughter while the “steer” helped blushing Bess to dismount.

  “Never mind,” said Nancy. “You didn’t want to be a cowboy, anyway!”

  As the boys called joking remarks about the next roping lesson, the girls walked off together. At the house Nancy told Bess, Aunt Bet, and Alice all that had happened in town. She showed the watch and related its history.

  “Shorty Steele is the one who told us the legend of the phantom horse,” said Aunt Bet, “but he never mentioned the treasure. Maybe he doesn’t know that part of the story.”

  “Or perhaps he kept it to himself,” Nancy thought. Aloud she said, “Would it be all right if we hunt for the treasure?”

  “By all means.”

  While the others were examining the old-fashioned watch, Nancy took the pastel picture from her bag and propped it on the living-room table.

  Alice saw it and turned pale. “Nancy! Where did you get this?”

  As Nancy explained, Alice picked up the painting. “My father did this—I’m sure of it!” She told them that Ross Regor was an amateur artist and always carried a small case of pastels with him. Whenever he had a few leisure minutes he devoted the time to sketching and Alice was positive she could recognize his work.

  “We must find the artist,” she said. “I just know he’s my father!”

  The others could not help feeling that Alice was clutching at straws. Nevertheless, Aunt Bet offered to take her young niece to town the next morning to question Mary Deer.

  That night after supper Nancy slipped into a heavy jacket, took a flashlight, and went for a walk alone. She made her way past the stable, chicken coops, and corral to the edge of the big meadow. As she stood thinking, the wind whistled down the valley and tossed the treetops. Chief came padding over from the stable and nuzzled her hand.

  Nancy turned and looked back. There was a light shining through a crack in the spring-house wall! “Who’d be there now?” she wondered.

  As she hurried to investigate, one foot stepped on a large twig. Crack! In a moment the light went out!

  Her sleuthing instincts aroused, Nancy tiptoed to the door, pulled it open, and shone her light inside. Empty!

  A shiver ran up Nancy’s spine. It was impossible!

  She walked away slowly, puzzling over the incident. Suddenly a long weird whistle sounded in the direction of the meadow. From among the bordering trees—as if in response to the whistle—galloped a white, filmy horse! The phantom!

  CHAPTER VI

  Shorty’s Shortcut

  FOR a moment Nancy froze at the sight of the ghostly steed galloping across the meadow. Then she raced toward the fence, calling the alarm.

  At the same time a yell came from the stable. “Phantom—phantom!” It was Shorty’s voice. “Saddle up, everybody!”

  There were answering shouts as the cowboys appeared on the run and dashed to the stable. The other girls rushed up to Nancy who was staring tensely over the fence into the meadow. Chief joined the excited group. He began barking and made a beeline for the phantom horse, which had turned and seemed to be floating toward the far end of the meadow.

  Soon the mounted ranchmen thundered out of the stable. Shorty took the lead. “Come on! This time we’re gonna run that critter to earth!”

  But the phantom horse was already far ahead of the pursuers. Only the dog was getting close. As the girls watched, the eerie figure reached the stand of trees at the far end of the meadow. In the wink of an eye it vanished.

  Bess drew a shuddering breath. “The ghost’s gone! Right into thin air!”

  “Nonsense,” George said gruffly.

  “How can anything disappear like that?” asked Alice.

  “It’s amazing,” Nancy admitted. “We should have been able to see it glowing among the trees for a few moments.” Suddenly she remembered the prophecy that destruction would follow any appearance of the phantom. “Come on!” she exclaimed. “The real trouble is somewhere else.”

  She and the other girls hurried back to the house. All seemed quiet there. A glance into the kitchen showed Aunt Bet trying to calm Mrs. Thurmond. The girls hastened on to their rooms.

  With an exclamation of dismay Nancy stopped in the doorway. The room she shared with the cousins was a shambles! Pillows were ripped, blankets lay on the floor. All the drawers had been dumped. Alice ran next door to her room and came back to say that it had not been touched.

  “Someone wants us to leave Shadow Ranch, all right,” George declared.

  “More than that,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “Someone may be looking for Frances Humber’s watch.”

  “But only we girls and the Rawleys know Mary Deer gave it to Nancy,” Alice objected.

  “You’re forgetting the man in town,” Nancy said, “and Dave. Both were very much interested in it.”

  “Well, where is the watch?” asked Bess, looking fearful.

  “I’m wearing it,” said Nancy, “under my sweater.” Before supper she had changed to a yellow blouse and skirt with a matching slipover.

  While she and Bess and George began to clear up the mess, Alice hurried to the kitchen to tell her aunt and Mrs. Thurmond what had happened. They hurried back to help. By the time the beds were made again and the pillows replaced with spare ones, the men had returned.

  “The phantom got away,” Ed Rawley said gloomily. “Chief was at his heels, but he has not come back and it worries me.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Nancy. “I’m afraid we have other bad news for you.” Quickly she reported what had happened.

  “The purpose of the phantom is clear,” she declared. “It’s to frighten you and attract attention to the meadow while the real damage is being done somewhere else.”

  “If we could only catch the thing, it would surely give us a clue to who is doing all this,” Ed Rawley said, and Nancy agreed.

  The next morning at breakfast Dave reported that Chief still had not returned.

  “The phantom got him, poor dog,” Mrs. Thurmond said dolefully. “Same as it will get us all.”

  As soon as the meal was over, Nancy said she was going out for a canter. She put on riding clothes and hastened to the stable where Tex saddled a handsome bay for her. Nancy was a skillful rider and she enjoyed the gallop in the meadow looking for clues to the phantom. But whatever marks it had left had been obscured by the pursuing horsemen.

  At the far end of the field, Nancy rode into a stand of cottonwood where the strange creature had vanished. Here she found a path which led to the foot of the mountain and up the slope. Had the phantom gone that way?

  Nancy reined her horse about and hurried to the ranch house, where she rounded up Bess and George. “Want to join me in a search party?”

  “You bet,” her friends chorused.

  Shorty offered to lead them and within half an hour the four riders were following the path up the mountain.

  It was a steep, high climb. All was silent, except for the creak of the saddles and the clop of the horses’ hooves on the stones. Finally the path leveled off and they came to a narrow stream, which they splashed across.

  “This is just a crick now,” said Shorty. “But come one good cloudburst—and it’ll turn into a roarin’ flood so bad only a river horse could cross it. That’s the kind you’re ridin’ now. They’re big and don’t get rattled—know how to swim with the current.”

  Near noon Nancy suddenly reined up. “Listen!” she said. Somewhere among the rocks overhead a dog was barking. Apache Chief?

  Within a moment George glimpsed the roof of a cabin among the crags above. “Maybe Chief’s up there!” she exclaimed.

  Nancy observed that it looked as though the path they were on would lead to the cabin.

  “I know a shortcut. Come with me,” Shorty said quickly.

  He rode ahead and led them to a side path. He explained to the girls that the other route became impassable farther up the mountain. After they had ridden for fifteen m
inutes Shorty stopped, pulled off his hat, and wiped his forehead with his bandanna.

  “I gotta confess we strayed onto the wrong trail.” He shrugged. “No use goin’ back up. Get-tin’ too late. We better make tracks for the ranch.”

  Disappointed, Nancy and her friends followed him along a new trail which eventually rejoined the first path. They reached Shadow Ranch in midafternoon.

  When they dismounted in front of the stable, Shorty said, “I’m mighty sorry we didn’t find that dog.”

  Nancy replied, “So am I.” She could not help suspecting that Shorty had pretended to be lost and deliberately kept them away from the cabin. She made up her mind to go back. The three girls discussed the possibility of his having double-crossed them.

  “I’ll bet he did!” George declared.

  At the house they found Alice waiting for them, her face glowing. “Nancy,” she cried out, “Mary Deer says the artist’s name is Bursey and he lives in a cabin on Shadow Mountain!” The older girls exchanged meaningful looks.

  “Alice,” Nancy said happily, “I think I know where it is. We’ll go there tomorrow. Maybe we’ll find Chief, too.”

  That night Alice came to the girls’ room. She was puzzled. If the artist was her father, why was Chief with him?

  “I wish I could answer,” said Nancy. “And, Alice dear, please don’t get your hopes up too high. It may not be the cabin where the artist lives, although I have a hunch it’s connected with the mystery of Shadow Ranch.”

  As Nancy spoke, she was turning the old-fashioned watch over in her hand. Absently she ran her finger along the front edge and suddenly felt a tiny obstruction. She pushed it and instantly a thin lid sprang forward.

  “Why—it’s a secret compartment!” she exclaimed.

  On the top side of the lid was the small faded photograph of a handsome man with flowing dark hair.

  “That must be Dirk Valentine!” Nancy cried, and showed it to the other girls. In the frame next to the picture of the man was a tiny corner from another picture.

  “That one’s been torn out,” said Alice.

  “It must have been a photo of Frances Humber,” Bess observed.

  Carefully Nancy removed the old picture. On the back in faded ink was the initial “V.” In tiny script under it were the words: “green bottle in—”

  “In where?” asked George.

  “Perhaps the place is named on the back of the missing photograph,” Nancy suggested.

  “Let me see it,” Bess requested.

  Nancy handed her the watch. Bess looked it over carefully. Finally she sighed, replaced the picture, and put the timepiece on the dresser. “What can that odd message mean? If—”

  At that moment the girls heard a dog whining. It came from somewhere in the darkness beyond the portico.

  Alice jumped up. “Listen!” she exclaimed. “Maybe that’s Chief!”

  CHAPTER VII

  Rockslide!

  THE girls dashed onto the portico but could not see the big German shepherd.

  “Here, Chief!” Nancy called.

  From the dark yard came an answering whine, but the dog did not appear.

  “Maybe he’s hurt,” said Bess as they walked toward the sound. Whines and barks filled the air as the searchers called again and again, but each time the sounds seemed farther away and definitely were coming from the big meadow. The girls reached the fence. Though they called repeatedly, there was only silence.

  “Why wouldn’t Chief come to us?” Alice asked.

  The same question had been troubling Nancy, and the answer flashed into her mind. “Perhaps there wasn’t any dog! Maybe someone imitated him to get us out of our room.”

  Bess gave a gasp of alarm. “Nancy! Your watch! I left it on the dresser!”

  Hoping they would not be too late, the girls ran back to their room. All sighed in relief. The watch was still on the dresser!

  “Thank goodness!” said Bess. “If it had disappeared I never would have forgiven myself.”

  George said, “We were gone long enough for someone to lift out Valentine’s picture and look at the writing on it.”

  Nancy examined the picture carefully, but could detect no sign of its having been removed.

  Alice spoke up. “What do you think those words on the back of the photograph mean, Nancy?”

  The young detective thought they might be a clue to the treasure. “Valentine may have given the watch to Frances for a double purpose—as a gift and a way to tell her secretly where his treasure was hidden.”

  “You mean it’s in a green bottle?” Bess asked incredulously.

  Nancy shook her head. “More likely the bottle contains directions to it. Let’s look over Aunt Bet’s bottle collection.”

  She pinned the watch onto her blouse and hurried to the living room with the others. Nancy showed Mrs. Rawley the clue in the secret compartment, and asked if any of the bottles in her collection had been found on the premises.

  “Two,” said the woman. “And one of them is green!”

  The girls went to the window with her and she removed a dark-green, narrow-necked bottle from the top shelf.

  “It was for liniment,” she said, handing it to Nancy. “The old Western miners and ranchers used a lot of it. Collectors are always looking for those antique bottles. I found this one in an old shed behind the stable.”

  Nancy removed the stopper, turned the bottle over, and shook it, but nothing fell out. Nancy asked Alice to bring a knitting needle from her bag. When she returned, the girl detective probed into the bottle with the long needle.

  “It’s empty,” was her verdict.

  “We’ll have to start searching the ranch for other bottles,” said Bess.

  That night Nancy went to sleep wondering if someone else might also be looking for the green bottle. The answer came after breakfast next morning as she crossed the living room. The green liniment bottle was gone from the window shelf!

  Nancy searched the other shelves at once, but in vain. It was obvious that the dog whining had been a trick and someone had read the clue on the back of Valentine’s picture!

  Just then Dave passed the portico door. Nancy called him in and asked what time he had taken guard duty the night before.

  “Eight o’clock to midnight,” he replied. “Why?”

  “Just wondering. Did you hear a dog whine in the yard or see anyone?”

  Dave had heard the dog but seen no one. When he had reached the yard, there had been no sign of the animal.

  “Again, why?” The cowboy regarded Nancy quizzically.

  “It was a trick to get us outside so someone could snoop in my room,” Nancy replied. She looked him straight in the eye, and he met her gaze without flinching.

  “I think you’re right,” he said, and added quietly, “Be careful, Nancy. You’re on dangerous grounds.” He turned and walked away.

  Was it a threat, or a well-meant warning? Nancy could not make up her mind. Although Dave was gruff, Nancy liked his straightforward manner.

  “I must tell Aunt Bet about this,” the young sleuth thought.

  The ranchwoman and her nieces were disturbed to hear about the missing bottle, but Mrs. Rawley commented with a smile, “The thief must have hated himself for his trouble when he found out there was nothing in the bottle!”

  “That’s right,” Bess agreed. “But he’ll go on looking for green bottles and he just may find the right one before Nancy does.”

  Her detective friend grinned. “Let’s not give him a chance!”

  As the girls changed to riding togs, Aunt Bet told them of a ghost town on Shadow Mountain. “It’s possible Mr. Bursey lives there,” she said. “You might go to it first, then circle around and on the way back visit the cabin where you think the dog is.” She drew a map, then warned, “Be back by sundown. Mountain trails are treacherous after dark.”

  Nancy took her pocket compass and the girls picked up the lunch Mrs. Thurmond had packed for them. Then they hurried to the sta
ble.

  Tex gave them the same horses they had ridden the day before, plus a large roan mare named Choo-Choo for Alice. But when the slender girl was astride, she began to giggle.

  Tex, too, chuckled. “I don’t think I can shorten those stirrups enough for you, Missy,” he said. “We’d better put you on a smaller animal.”

  Bess volunteered to give Alice the horse she was about to mount and the switch was made.

  “Choo-Choo’s a perfectly good trail animal,” Tex said. “Only thing is, she’s no river horse.”

  “I’ll remember,” said Bess.

  With Nancy in the lead, the riders cut across the big meadow at a gallop and started up the mountain trail. Nancy followed Aunt Bet’s map, and after a long, hot climb, the girls sighted a group of weather-beaten frame buildings clinging to the slope above.

  As they rode into the streets of the ghost town they were struck by the silence and the bleached look of the sagging buildings. In front of a dilapidated hotel they dismounted and tied their horses to an old hitching rail. As they stepped onto the board sidewalk, Alice exclaimed sharply:

  “Look!” In front of her lay a crushed blue crayon. “It’s a pastel!”

  Nancy dropped to her knees and examined the colored powder. “This is fresh,” she said with excitement. “It hasn’t been scattered by the wind or mixed with dust.”

  Beyond the vivid splotch she saw smaller traces of blue and followed them swiftly to the end of the street. Below her, on the rocky mountain slope, she saw two men running.

  In a moment they disappeared into a cluster of large boulders. Alice and the others dashed up behind Nancy just too late to see them. Though the girls watched, the men did not reappear.

  “I just know one of them was my father,” Alice moaned. “He must have dropped the crayon. Oh, Nancy, why do you suppose they ran away? Do you think he’s a captive?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Nancy replied. “But I mean to find out.”

  “Come on. Let’s search the town,” George urged. “We’ll see if there’s any sign of an artist living here. If he is, he’ll come back.”

  Alice agreed, and the four separated in order to cover the ground more quickly. Nancy picked a tall house perched precariously halfway up the slope. She entered cautiously and found the first-floor rooms bare. Gingerly she climbed the rickety stairs.