Bailey’s Peoria Problem

by Linda McQuinn Carlblom

  “Yep. We bought a cool sign and a treat, so we’re all ready.”

  “I’ll meet you at the entrance.”

  “Okay. See you in a minute.” Bailey shoved her phone into her pocket.

  “We’re supposed to meet Uncle Nathan at the entrance.”

  Alex nodded. “Hey, Bailey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry I was afraid to go retrace our steps to look for the ear tag.”

  “No biggie. Besides, now we have this sign to investigate.”

  “Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel braver,” Alex offered.

  “Do you remember anything about the ear tag?”

  “It was yellow and shaped like a tiny house. And it was made of plastic.”

  “Any idea what the numbers on it were?” Bailey pressed.

  “Not for sure.” Alex paused. “I think one side might have said forty-six. Or maybe it was sixty-four.”

  “Great!” Bailey squealed. “I think the other side said five-one-two-nine! At least I’m pretty sure those were the numbers. I’m just not positive of their order.”

  “Now if we can get Brian to tell us what the numbers mean, we’re all set.” Alex’s grin stretched as wide as a slice of watermelon. “Maybe we won’t need to look for the tag after all!”

  They saw Uncle Nathan waiting. He spotted their bag right away. “Let’s see this cool sign you found,” he said.

  Bailey carefully pulled it from the bag and unwrapped it.

  “BRINDLE BRANCH FARM,” Uncle Nathan read. “Hmm. That sounds familiar.”

  “It does?” Alex’s eyes flew open.

  “Do you know where it is?” Bailey asked.

  “Can’t say that I do, but I’ve heard of it.”

  “The sign looks old, don’t you think?”

  Running a calloused hand over it, her uncle said, “Looks old, all right.” He looked at the girls and smiled. “You did find a pretty cool sign. It has a lot of character!”

  “We’re going to research its history and see what we can find out.” Bailey rewrapped it in the brown paper before returning it to its bag.

  “That should be interesting,” Uncle Nathan said. “I’d be curious to know what you find out.”

  “We’ll let you know,” Alex said.

  Uncle Nathan unlocked the truck, and Shy sat up, yawned, and looked around.

  “Looks like someone’s been taking a nap,” Uncle Nathan said. “Must be tuckered out from such an adventurous afternoon.”

  When Shy saw them, she stood up on the backseat, her tail wagging like it was attached to a spring. Her mouth parted in a dog smile, her tongue dangling out the side.

  Bailey opened the door. “Hi, girl!” She climbed in and was greeted with a face full of wet kisses. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Sure looks like it!” Alex said, laughing.

  “Uncle Nathan, did you know that Woolly Creek behind your house used to be called Brindle Creek?” Bailey asked.

  “Brindle Creek? No, I didn’t.” Uncle Nathan made a funny face. “How’d you know that?”

  “We saw it at the Historical Society a couple days ago.” Bailey buckled her seat belt.

  “Well, I’ll be!”

  “So maybe Brindle Branch Farm is along that creek somewhere,” Alex said.

  “Could be,” Uncle Nathan said. “Sounds like you’re off to a good start already with researching that sign you bought. But remember, no more going onto someone else’s property without permission. You could have been hurt today.”

  “We won’t, Uncle Nathan,” Bailey assured him.

  Minutes later, the truck pulled into the driveway of Uncle Nathan’s home. The girls jumped out and headed toward the house.

  “I’ll see you gals at supper. I have some shearing to finish.” Uncle Nathan waved them off and went back to join Brian in the barn.

  In their bedroom, Alex sat on the floor, her back against the foot of the bed. She opened the laptop and checked her e-mail.

  “Anything interesting?” Bailey asked.

  “Not much. My mom sent me a note.” Alexis smiled. “She misses me.”

  “She won’t have to miss you much longer,” Bailey said. “We’ll be home soon.”

  “I know. I can’t believe how fast this week is going.”

  “Only two more days to solve this mystery. What do you think we should do next?”

  Alex cocked her head. “I’m guessing Brindle Branch Farm must be along Brindle Creek, which is now called Woolly Creek.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So tomorrow we should take another walk along the creek—making sure we stay on our own side—to see if we can figure out which place is Brindle Branch.”

  Bailey perked up. “Maybe we could even talk to some of the neighbors. They may know something.”

  “Great idea!”

  “One way or another, we’ll solve this mystery of Marshall Gonzalez and Brindle Branch and the marked sheep,” Bailey said.

  There was a knock on the girls’ door.

  “Come in!” Bailey called.

  Brian stuck his head in the door. “Dad let me off early since there were only a few sheep left when he got back. I heard you had an exciting day!”

  “Boy, did we ever!” Bailey answered. “Come on in.”

  Brian plunked down in the pink beanbag. Bailey and Alex retold the events of the day.

  “Wow,” he finally said. “I’m glad you guys are okay. Wish I’d been along. I’d have made those guys sorry for messing with you.” He winked at Alex.

  Alex turned beet red and looked down at her feet. A hint of a smile played on her lips.

  Puffing out her chest and holding her head up high, Bailey bragged, “We handled it very well ourselves, thank you.”

  “Oh! We have something to ask you,” Alex said, her color returning to normal.

  “Oh yeah! I almost forgot,” Bailey added. “Do you know anything about ear tags?”

  “Sure. What about them?” Brian sat up straighter.

  “What do the numbers mean?” Bailey asked.

  “Each farm is given an identification number by the Department of Agriculture. They require that every sheep be given a premise identification ear tag before leaving the farm where it was born. They call it their premise ID. That number goes on one side of the tag.” Brian looked from girl to girl. “Care to guess what the number on the other side of the tag is?”

  “The sheep’s number!” Alex yelled.

  Brian pointed at her. “You got it!” He leaned over to Bailey and muttered loud enough for Alex to hear, “I knew she was a smart one.”

  Bailey laughed.

  “Each sheep is given a number when it’s purchased,” Brian explained. “Often the first number shows the animal’s birth year, and the rest of the number is sequential. That number goes on the other side of the tag.”

  “Do the colors of the tags mean anything?” Alex asked.

  “They can, but that’s up to the farmer. He may color code them according to age, breed types, or owners.”

  “So a yellow tag may mean something different depending on the farm?” Bailey asked.

  “Exactly. Why do you ask?”

  “I found an ear tag in the creek before we were charged by Fang.”

  “Well, let’s see it! Maybe I can tell you whose it is!” Brian said, stretching out his hand.

  “I can’t. It fell out of my pocket when we were running away from the dog.” Alex’s voice sounded disappointed.

  “No way!” Brian said, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

  Bailey nodded.

  “But we think we remember the numbers,” Alex said, her voice hopeful. “I think one side was forty-six—or sixty-four.”

  “And the other side said five-one-two-nine, but not necessarily in that order,” Bailey added.

  “I think I can help you,” Brian said, jumping up from the beanbag. “I’ll be right back.”

  The List of Clues

  Brian rushed out the
door before Bailey and Alex could speak.

  The girls looked at each other. Bailey shrugged and said, “I guess he has an idea.”

  Alex laughed. “Obviously!”

  Brian flew back in minutes later, Uncle Nathan’s ledger tucked under his arm. He closed the door behind him and flopped onto the beanbag. “I remember seeing a chart of farms and their IDs listed in here.” Brian flipped through the pages. “Ah! Here it is.”

  He ran his finger down a column, all the while mumbling, “Forty-six…forty-six.” His finger stopped on the second page, and he looked up with a grin.

  “Well, did you find it?” Bailey asked.

  “Yep, I’ve got it right here.” His fingers tapped the open page.

  “So which farm is it?” Alex urged. She craned her neck, trying to get a look at the book.

  “What’ll you give me for telling you?” Brian teased.

  “I’ll give you another day to live! Now tell us which farm it is!” Bailey snapped.

  Brian laughed. “You’re so fun to mess with. All right. I’ll tell you. It’s Hazelwood Farm.”

  “That’s what we figured.” Alex slumped against the foot of the bed. “We’re pretty sure that’s the name of the farm on the other side of the creek where those terrible men live.”

  “Then why were you so cranked up to find out?”

  “We just wanted to be sure, that’s all.” Bailey sighed.

  “Anything else you want to know before I put the book back?”

  “Does it say anything else about how they identify their sheep?” Alex asked.

  “What do you mean?” Brian’s forehead wrinkled.

  “Like, do they only use ear tags, or do they use other things?”

  “Hmm. I’ll look.” Brian thumbed through a few pages and then stopped. “It says they sometimes use paint sticks to temporarily mark sheep before selling them.”

  “Paint sticks? That’s it!” Bailey jumped up from the bed.

  “That’s what?” Brian asked.

  “I bet that’s what the words on the lambs were written with!” Bailey reached down and gave Alex’s raised hand a high five.

  “You’re probably right.” Brian nodded. “Permanent markers probably wouldn’t be good for the sheep.”

  “But paint sticks wouldn’t hurt them?” Alex asked.

  “No. They’re specially made to be nontoxic.”

  “How long does it last?” Bailey wondered.

  “Usually several months,” Brian replied.

  “Over six months?” Bailey pressed, knowing the sheep were only sheared that often.

  “Yeah. Often a farmer will paint-brand their ewes when they’re pregnant and then give the same number to their babies once they’re born and until they’re given their own number. It makes it easier to match the mothers and babies.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us about paint-branding before?” Bailey asked. “We were trying to sniff those marked sheep to see if they smelled like permanent marker!”

  Brian laughed. “You would do something crazy like that.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t think about it.”

  “That brings us one step closer to solving this mystery,” Alex said.

  “Speaking of clues to the mystery,” Bailey said, “do you want to see the sign we got at the flea market today?”

  “Sure,” Brian said.

  Bailey unwrapped it and showed the sign to her cousin.

  “Sweet!” Brian took the sign in his hands. He studied the words carved into the front and then turned it over. “Hey, look at this. The carver’s initials.”

  “Huh?” Bailey was at Brian’s side in an instant. Alex flanked his other side.

  “See? M. G.” Brian pointed at small letters in the lower left corner.

  “Marshall Gonzalez!” Bailey whooped.

  “Could be,” Alex agreed.

  “Why would you automatically think it was Marshall Gonzalez?” Brian looked wary. “Could be Matthew Gardner or Mike Green.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Alex conceded. “We just have Marshall on the brain.”

  “We have to solve this mystery in two days, so we need to stay focused,” Bailey reminded her cousin.

  Brian nodded. “Well, you’re certainly doing that.”

  “We need to research Brindle Branch Farm,” Bailey said.

  “I’ll Google it.” Alex set her computer in her lap.

  “It’s as good a place to start as any.” Bailey stretched out on her stomach, her head at the foot of the bed, to look over Alex’s shoulder.

  Five entries came up. Alex clicked on the first one. Up popped an article about adopting brindle greyhound dogs. She quickly clicked out and went to the next one. Brindle Branch Farm, located in Peoria, Illinois…

  “Alex! That’s it!” Bailey squealed.

  “Read it out loud,” Brian said from the pink beanbag.

  Alex cleared her throat. “Brindle Branch Farm, located in Peoria, Illinois, is a historic sheep farm once known for its high-quality wool production. It stopped wool operation in 2000, but its old house and farm buildings still stand. In 2002 the farm’s name was changed to Hazelwood Sheep Farms.”

  “So Brindle Branch Farm is Hazelwood Sheep Farms, just as we suspected!” Bailey gave a victorious fist pump.

  “Okay. Let’s review what we know so far. Maybe it will help us connect the dots.” Alex pulled out her notebook that listed the facts and clues they had accumulated. “First, Marshall Gonzalez disappeared seven years ago, and his relatives want him declared legally dead so they can claim his fortune.”

  “Two,” Bailey piped in, reading over Alex’s shoulder from the bed, “Marshall was a recluse. He didn’t have many friends or close relatives.”

  “Three,” Alex resumed, “investigators never found a body, so Marshall could be alive. Four, he lived around here somewhere and started sheep farming before his disappearance.”

  “Correction.” Bailey cleared her throat. “Uncle Nathan said he supposedly mentioned going into sheep farming and even attended a sheep expo, but we don’t know for sure if he started up a sheep farm.”

  “Point taken.” Alex erased part of point four and wrote in the correction.

  Bailey continued reading aloud. “Five, Marshall shut down his Peoria house and released all workers except for a caretaker. Six, three men and a mean dog live in that ramshackle house across the creek. We call them Yeller, Dude, Rude, and Fang. Dude and Rude try to keep Yeller from being seen or heard.”

  “Seven,” Alex read on, “Yeller tried to get our attention. He was even ready to climb the tree outside our window at night.”

  “What?” Brian bolted upright, his eyes flashing.

  Alex frowned at Bailey. “Oops.”

  “He climbed the tree outside your bedroom window?” Brian pressed.

  Bailey’s head drooped. “Only once. He fell out and limped away.”

  “Good! Maybe that will teach him not to slink around girls’ bedroom windows! Why didn’t you tell me or Dad?”

  “Because we were afraid you’d make us stop investigating!” Bailey finally met Brian’s eyes.

  “You got that right! This could be some weirdo who could hurt you!” Brian stood and paced the room like a caged tiger.

  “But he isn’t!” Bailey wailed. “He just wants to tell us something. Something important!” “How do you know?”

  “Because the first time we saw him he waved at us and yelled. He was trying to get our attention.”

  “Yeah, then the other two hauled him back to the house.” Alex nodded.

  “And these are the same guys whose dog attacked Shy, and they didn’t help you? They sound like real charmers to me.” Brian rolled his eyes.

  “Yeller tried to help, but the other guy wouldn’t let him,” Bailey said.

  “It’s true,” Alex added. “The other guy pulled him into the barn.”

  Brian raked his hand through his dark curls. “We need to tell my dad.”

/>   “Brian, it’s history! Over!” Bailey stood and planted herself in his face, her hands on her hips.

  “You don’t know that.” Brian took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He could come back tonight for all you know.”

  “But I honestly don’t think he’s trying to hurt us. He would have already come back and tried. After all, that happened on Monday, and it’s Friday now. He just wants to tell us something.” Bailey sat back down.

  Brian looked at Alex. “Do you agree?”

  Alex nodded. “I thought we should tell at first. But now I don’t think Yeller would hurt us. Like Bailey said, he’s had all week to try again. The other guys might be dangerous, but not Yeller.”

  “I think he needs help,” Bailey said.

  Brian kept pacing, his eyebrows forming a V. Bailey watched him until he stopped in front of them.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “You promise to call me on my cell phone the second anything potentially happens with these guys. Even if they look at you cross-eyed! And I won’t tell Dad.”

  Alex quietly nodded. Bailey sighed with relief. “I promise, Brian.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his chest. “Thanks.”

  Brian patted Bailey on the back. “Now, where were you on that list of clues?” he said.

  Alex laughed. “Let’s see, I think we were on number eight.” She looked to the notebook. “Yes. Eight. We have three messages written on lambs. Together they read, ‘Help Gonzo held captive Brindle Branch.’ Number nine, Kate dug up that Gonzalez was from Sinoloa, Mexico. He’s the son of a poor shrimp fisherman, but his grandpa was a rich sugar cane farmer. Grandpa left Gonzalez his fortune when he died. So jealousy could be a motive for his relatives wanting him declared dead.”

  “Number ten,” Bailey jumped in. “Woolly Creek behind the Curly Q used to be called Brindle Creek. The name was changed twenty years ago.”

  “Eleven,” Alex said. “Curly Q sheep were bought at auctions from three farms: Hazelwood Sheep Farms, Hollyhock Acres, and Whitestone Ranch. Hazelwood is the closest, just across the creek. Twelve, the kidnapping may have been done by someone Gonzalez knew. The kidnapper would have to care for Gonzo’s sheep, and they only follow their own shepherd’s voice. Thirteen, I found an ear tag with the number forty-six on one side and five-one-two-nine on the other.”