Bailey’s Peoria Problem

by Linda McQuinn Carlblom

  © 2010 by Barbour Publishing, Inc.

  Edited by Jeanette Littleton

  Print ISBN 978-1-60260-272-4

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-307-2

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-308-9

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design © Thinkpen Design

  Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Dickinson Press, Inc.; Grand Rapids, MI; April 2010; D10002265

  Almost Rammed!

  “Look out!”

  Alexis turned to see a huge ram lower his head and charge.

  “Ahhhhhhh!” Alexis screamed. She sprinted through the herd of sheep toward the fence.

  Baaa! Baaaaah! The sheep complained as they tripped out of her way.

  Thud-thud-thud-thud! Alex could hear the angry ram close behind.

  Chaotic baaing continued as more sheep were disrupted from their peaceful grazing.

  Fwap! Alexis smacked into the fence. She frantically hopped up the first rung, swung her leg over the top rung, and fell to the ground below. Safe! She was out of the sheep pen in record time.

  Pumph! The angry ram smacked his horns into the fence then darted off to the other side of the pasture.

  “Are you okay?” Nine-year-old Bailey helped her friend stand up. As Alexis got up, she couldn’t quite hide the fear in her eyes.

  “I—I think so.” Alex brushed off her jeans, and Bailey noticed her friend’s hands tremble. “Did I do something to make him mad?”

  Bailey shook her head, her silky black hair swinging around her face. “Uncle Nathan said that one—Brutus—is just plain mean. Sometimes he even keeps Brutus in a different pen.”

  “Wish I’d known that before I went in there,” Alex said.

  Bailey put her arm around Alex. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful about seeing which sheep were in there first. I know you’re not used to being around farm animals.”

  “I’m hardly used to being around city animals! I’ve never even had a pet—unless you count my brothers.”

  Bailey laughed. “Well, I’ll try to remember to check the pen next time.”

  “Who said anything about a next time?” Alex gave Bailey a playful nudge. “Anyway, it’s not your fault. I should have kept my eyes open and noticed that ram.”

  “What’s all the commotion over here?” Bailey’s Uncle Nathan strode up behind them, the gravel crunching beneath his heavy work boots. Shy, his Australian shepherd, pranced at his side. Nathan’s stocky, muscular build told of his hard work on Curly Q Ranch, which he had bought seven years earlier. His straight black hair was just long enough on top to ripple in the soft breeze.

  “Brutus charged Alex,” Bailey explained in a nutshell.

  Uncle Nathan frowned as he looked at Alex. “Are you hurt?”

  “No. I’m fine. Though I’ve never been so scared in all my twelve years.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have moved him to another pen before letting you girls come out here.”

  Bailey giggled. “You should have seen her move and jump over this fence! It was pretty funny now that I think about it.”

  Alex laughed, too. “Guess that cheerleading camp trained me pretty well! I never dreamed it would help me be limber enough to scale fences!”

  “I’m just glad you’re okay,” Uncle Nathan said. “I put your suitcases in the upstairs room next to Brian’s. Are you ready for the grand tour of Curly Q?”

  Shy, a medium-sized white dog with black and gray splotches of color, sniffed Bailey’s hand. Scratching her behind the ears, Bailey answered the uncle she adored. “You bet! But what about Brian? Is he coming?” She never grew tired of spending time with her older cousin, in spite of his friendly teasing and practical jokes.

  “I don’t think so. He got a call from a friend just as I walked out.” Her uncle cupped one leathery hand around his mouth and muttered into Bailey’s ear, “Probably some pretty girl. You know how teenagers are!” He winked. “Come on. I’ll show you the pasture where most of the sheep are grazing today.”

  Bailey and Alex followed Uncle Nathan to a lush green field of clover. As they approached, the musky smell of sheep greeted them and the sheep’s bleating grew increasingly louder.

  “Here they are.” Uncle Nathan leaned on the fence, watching his herd as he had no doubt done every day for the past seven years.

  “Wow.” Alex’s mouth gaped as she scanned the herd. “I’ve never seen so many sheep. How many are there?”

  “Three hundred twenty-three,” he answered confidently.

  “Are you sure? How do you know one hasn’t run off or something?”

  Nathan chuckled. “A good shepherd knows his flock. He keeps count of them and watches their behavior. If one is missing, he knows it.”

  “Like Jesus,” Bailey piped in. “He knows us and watches us, too. He’s the Good Shepherd.”

  “Hey, yeah,” Alex said. “I read that in my Bible, but it makes more sense now, seeing these poor helpless sheep. They really do need someone to take care of them, don’t they—except for Brutus.”

  “Absolutely.” Nathan rubbed the woolly head of a sheep that had wandered over to the fence. “They rely completely on their shepherd to care for them.”

  “Listen.” Bailey cocked her head. “I love how they have different voices just like people. Some are low and others are higher.”

  “And they have different personalities like people do, too,” Uncle Nathan added. “You really do get to know them after a while.”

  “Look at that baby!” Alex giggled as she pointed.

  “Let’s name her,” Bailey suggested. “She’s so cute. Look how she bounces around when she plays—like she has springs in her feet!” Bailey put her hands to the ground and sprang up and down imitating the lamb.

  “How ’bout we call her Snowball?” Alex rubbed the lamb’s woolly white head when it came close.

  “Or Marshmallow,” Bailey offered.

  “I know!” Alex pulled the stretchy red hair bow from her ponytail, causing her dark brown curls to fall to her shoulders. She put the bright hair tie around the lamb’s neck. “Let’s call her Bow!”

  “Bow it is.” Bailey caressed the lamb’s face. “You look beautiful, Bow!”

  “Will you start shearing the sheep today?” Alex looked at Uncle Nathan.

  He checked his watch. “We can probably get some done this afternoon before suppertime. I’ll show you how, and then you can have a go at it.”

  “Do you do it right out there in the field?”

  Nathan laughed. “Naw, we’ll take them over to the barn. We shear on a nice clean floor so the wool doesn’t get dirty when it falls. Also, the sheep getting sheared in the barn won’t upset the others waiting their turn in the field.”

  “They don’t like getting sheared?”

  “It doesn’t hurt
them, but they don’t like being held still. They can make an awful racket.”

  Alex grimaced. “I don’t think sheep shearing will be my thing.”

  “I hope you’ll try it. I think you’d do fine,” Bailey assured her. “But you do have to be strong and determined to do it. They need to know you’re in charge.”

  “That’s right.” Uncle Nathan patted Alex on the back. “You city girls can do more than you think. You’ll see. Now, why don’t you and Bailey go change into your grubbies, grab us some bottles of water from the kitchen, and meet me in the barn. We’re bound to get thirsty as we work. In the meantime, I’ll bring out a couple of ewes and show you how it’s done.”

  Bailey and Alex raced back to the house. The screen door slammed behind them, and they nearly collided with sixteen-year-old Brian in the kitchen.

  “Hey! Slow down! I was just coming out to see you.” Brian’s bear hug lifted his younger cousin off her feet.

  Bailey laughed as he returned her to the floor. “Brian, this is my friend, Alexis Howell. Alex for short.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Brian extended his hand.

  Alex smiled and pumped Brian’s hand. Her cheeks turned rosy as she studied his handsome features—thick, wavy black hair that hung loosely around his face and ears, and a brilliant smile that showed off his ridiculously white teeth. His almond-shaped eyes danced almost as playfully as Bailey’s. He had his dad’s strong build and was already as tall as his father.

  “We’re after some water, and then Uncle Nathan is going to show Alex how to shear,” Bailey told him.

  “Looks like you’re not wasting any time getting down to business. I’ll go with you.”

  As Bailey turned to the refrigerator for the water bottles, her eyes caught the Peoria Daily News on the kitchen table. Its primary front-page headline—MISSING MILLIONAIRE TO BE DECLARED LEGALLY DEAD?—aroused her curiosity, and she quickly scanned the article.

  “Check this out,” Bailey said to her friend.

  “What?”

  “This newspaper says an eccentric millionaire named Marshall Gonzalez has been missing for more than seven years. He lived around here. Distant relatives living in California want him to be declared legally dead so they can inherit his fortune. It says he has no near relatives and had few friends. Look. Here’s his picture.”

  Alex came closer to inspect the photo. A plump Mexican man with a moustache and thick black eyebrows stared back at her. He wore a dark suit and tie. “I wonder where they live in California. Maybe it’s close to Sacramento where I live.” Alex wrapped a strand of curly dark hair around her finger.

  “Maybe we can find out more from Uncle Nathan and Aunt Darcy at supper. We’d better change. I’m so glad your parents let you come to spend spring break with me!”

  “Me, too!”

  Minutes later, Bailey and Alex, dressed in worn jeans and old T-shirts, met Uncle Nathan in the barn. Alex pulled her hair back into a ponytail again at Bailey’s advice. “It’ll keep it out of your eyes while you work. I’d wear mine in a ponytail, too, if it was long enough.” They spotted Brian in the pasture tending the sheep.

  “Ready to get started?” Uncle Nathan asked.

  Bailey looked at Alex and saw the color drain from her face. “I’m ready,” she said, “but I think maybe Alex would rather watch this first time.”

  “You got that right. I’m not excited about getting too close to those animals after that last encounter.”

  “No problem. We’ll take it slow, and you can just watch for now.” Uncle Nathan patted the two ewes with thick, curly fleece that stood near him. Thin legs poked out the bottom of their fleece, reminding Bailey of cartoon sheep. Though she’d seen sheep many times over the years, she still giggled at how funny they looked.

  “Nowadays most ranchers use electric shears like this.” Uncle Nathan held up the shears so Alex could see. They hung from the end of a long cable leading to an electric motor attached to the barn ceiling. In a flash, he lifted the struggling sheep’s chin and brought the animal to a sitting position on its rump, while holding the ewe between his strong legs. In this position, the ewe’s struggling ceased, and Uncle Nathan began shearing. He ran long strokes down the length of the sheep’s body before flipping it over and doing the other side. Uncle Nathan then sheared the sheep’s belly and legs. In a matter of minutes, the once fat, roundish animal looked years younger and not so wise.

  “That’s amazing!” Alex said. “How’d you do that so fast?”

  “Years of practice,” Uncle Nathan answered. “But speed isn’t the important thing. If you rush, you might accidentally nick the sheep, and the next time you try to shear them, you’ll have a mighty fight on your hands. My sheep trust me. They know I’m careful with them. But I try to get it done as quickly and carefully as possible so they don’t have to be held still too long.”

  “Can I try it now? I’ll probably be a bit rusty.” Bailey looked at her uncle expectantly.

  “After we sweep up this wool. Remember, we have to separate the belly wool from the rest of the fleece so we can bag it separately. Then we need to skirt, bag, and label all of it.”

  “Skirt? What’s that?” asked Alex.

  “It’s how we roll the fleece to get it ready for market,” Bailey answered, proud that she knew the answer.

  Uncle Nathan showed Alex how to skirt the fleece, and together they placed it in a plastic garbage bag. “We get more money at market if we have the different wools separated and labeled properly,” he explained.

  “Now?” Bailey asked, bobbing up and down on her toes. Her hand held the shears.

  “Sure thing. I’ll be right here in case you need my help.”

  Bailey flipped on the shears and used her legs to hold the old ewe. She ran the tool deftly across the sheep’s skin, the wool dropping on the cleanly swept, concrete barn floor.

  Alex stepped forward to watch more closely. It took Bailey twice as long as it had Uncle Nathan, but she got the job done.

  “There!” Bailey smiled with satisfaction as she wiped sweat from her forehead.

  “You were magnificent!” Alex exclaimed. “I can’t believe you could handle the sheep like that!”

  “You want to try?” Bailey asked her friend.

  Alex hesitated. “I think I’ll watch awhile longer. I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”

  “Good call,” Uncle Nathan said. “You can learn a lot from watching. Maybe you’ll want to try it yourself in a day or two.”

  The wheels of a car crunched on the gravel driveway, drawing their attention.

  “Aunt Darcy!” Bailey took off running, black hair flying.

  Aunt Darcy scrambled out of the car and caught her niece in a giant hug. “It’s so good to see you! Let me see how tall you are.”

  Bailey stood stick straight as her aunt, still dressed in her nurse’s uniform, used her hand to measure from the top of Bailey’s head to herself. “You’re up to my chin! You must have grown three inches since I saw you last!” Darcy spotted Alex standing a polite distance away. “This must be Alex. Welcome to the Curly Q! I’m so glad you could come with Bailey this year.”

  “Thanks for having me,” Alex said as she edged closer. “I’m already learning so much!”

  Alex stuck out her hand, and Aunt Darcy took it and pulled her into a hug. “I have plenty of those to go around,” she said midhug. “I picked up some fried chicken, corn, and mashed potatoes on my way home from work. Anybody hungry?”

  “Always!” Brian ambled in from the pasture and overheard the question. “Let’s eat!”

  “Go wash up, all of you,” Darcy instructed. “Looks like you could use it!”

  “Race you to the house,” Brian challenged.

  Bailey and Alex were off like lightning, but Brian’s long legs soon overtook them.

  After everyone had washed up and changed into clean clothes, they sat around the table and joined hands. Uncle Nathan offered thanks to the Lord for the food and passed the bucket of
chicken.

  “Did you see the headline in the newspaper today about the missing millionaire?” Bailey ventured.

  “Yes. That case has been in the news off and on for years.” Uncle Nathan buttered a roll.

  “Do you think he’s really dead?” asked Alex.

  “Hard to say. No one’s seen or heard from him for seven years,” Aunt Darcy said.

  “That doesn’t mean he’s dead,” Bailey countered.

  “No, but it sure leaves a lot of unanswered questions,” said Brian around a mouthful of food.

  “What do you know about him, Uncle Nathan?” Bailey bit into her chicken leg.

  “Not much. He kept to himself, just like the paper said. He didn’t have any friends to speak of. Never married, no children.”

  “So you knew him?” Alex asked.

  “No. Just that his name was Marshall Gonzalez,” Uncle Nathan said. “I bought this ranch the year he disappeared. I never met him, but I’ve heard talk of him. People thought he was a bit strange ’cause he was such a loner, but you know how folks like to make up stories about others who are different. Pass the corn, please.”

  Bailey passed the bowl and asked, “Do you know where he lived?”

  “Why all this interest in Mr. Gonzalez?”

  “Just curious.” Bailey glanced at Alex, who was trying to tame a smile.

  Bailey and Alexis headed up to their room at nine o’clock that night.

  “This used to be my cousin Jennifer’s room,” Bailey told Alex. “But she moved out when she went to college last year.”

  “Which bed do you want?” Alex asked.

  Twin beds flanked either side of a window that was much taller than it was wide. Matching rose-covered bedspreads adorned the beds, and a nightstand sat beside each one. A soft pink beanbag chair slouched against the wall parallel to the beds and window. Two walls were papered pastel pink with tiny white dots. It reminded Bailey of the dotted swiss material her mother would try to talk her into for making her Easter dresses. It was fine for wallpaper, but Bailey wouldn’t want to wear it—or any dress for that matter.

  “I usually sleep in that one.” Bailey pointed to the bed closest to the adjoining bathroom.