148 On The Trail Of Trouble

by Carolyn Keene

  to follow her lead. Naturally hidden by the forest, they

  crouched and waited.

  Watching and listening for several minutes, they

  heard nothing. Her skin tingling from her head to her

  feet, Nancy finally stepped out onto the path. It curved

  to the right, so she could see only about three yards

  ahead.

  She made her way to the bend in the path, then held

  her breath. Against the dark of the dense trees, she

  could just make out an even darker silhouette.

  Someone was waiting for them around the curve.

  8. Bess Tumbles for Lincoln

  Nancy's thoughts raced. If I heard him coming, he—or

  she—probably heard us too, Nancy thought. So it's too

  late to duck back into the forest. She motioned for

  Bess, George, and Kincaid to stay back. Whoever it is

  probably doesn't know how many of us there are,

  Nancy reasoned. She knew if she needed help, surprise

  would be a big advantage for her.

  Nancy took a deep breath, then asked firmly, “Who's

  there?”

  There was no answer, but the person took a step

  closer. Nancy was pretty sure it was a man. He was

  very tall and slim and dressed in a Mount Rushmore

  uniform. His face was almost completely concealed by

  the wide bill of a baseball cap. It looked as if tufts of

  light hair bristled around the ears.

  “Who is it?” Nancy asked, firmly holding her

  ground. “Who's there?”

  The person took another couple of steps closer.

  He—or she—seemed to favor the right leg and limped

  slightly.

  “Nancy, be careful,” Kincaid said, popping out from

  behind a tree.

  The stranger jumped with surprise, then stepped

  back when he saw Kincaid.

  “Outta my way,” he grumbled through clenched

  teeth, glaring at Nancy and the others. Then he shoved

  roughly past them, knocking Kincaid to the ground.

  George and Bess rushed out to help Nancy pull

  Kincaid to her feet. They looked down the path back

  toward the visitor center, but the stranger was out of

  sight.

  “Are you all right?” Bess asked Kincaid.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” she answered, and stood,

  brushing pine needles from her jeans.

  “I wonder who that was,” George said, looking down

  the path.

  “Kincaid, did you get a look at him?” Nancy asked.

  “No,” Kincaid answered. “It all happened so fast, I

  didn't get a good look. I think it was a man, though.”

  “But you didn't recognize him?” Nancy asked.

  “Not really,” Kincaid said, adjusting her backpack.

  “What is it, Nancy?” Bess asked. “There's something

  you're after, isn't there?”

  “I don't know,” Nancy said, her eyes narrowing as

  she remembered the encounter. “It almost looked as if

  he recognized Kincaid when she jumped out. When

  you popped up, he looked right at you, then rushed

  away. I know you startled him, but there was

  something more in his expression.”

  “I wish I'd gotten a better look at him,” Kincaid said.

  “I wonder if it was someone I know—that's really

  scary.”

  “Well, he seems to be gone now, so let's get back on

  the trail to Beauforêt,” Nancy said, heading out. Soon

  they reached the back of Antoinette Francoeur's

  property.

  “There,” Kincaid said triumphantly. “I knew it.

  Look. There's the car barn, the parking lot. The house

  is up ahead.”

  Even though the estate was more open than the

  forest, there was little moonlight. So it was dark. It was

  also very quiet. There was no sign of anyone around

  the grounds.

  “I want to check something in the antique car barn

  first,” Nancy whispered.

  “We've already been there,” Kincaid said, obviously

  disappointed. “I want to look in the other barns and

  outbuildings. If Lulu and Justice are up here, I want to

  find them.”

  Nancy could see that Kincaid was determined and

  she wasn't going to change her mind. “Okay,” Nancy

  said. “Bess, you and Kincaid go to the other barn. Wait

  there for George and me. Now listen, everybody. We

  may not see anyone right now, but we know she has

  guards. Keep out of sight and be quiet.”

  Nancy watched as Bess and Kincaid darted toward

  the other large building. Then she and George moved

  quickly to the rear door of the car barn. Nancy used

  her lock pick to open it.

  She waited for a minute to see if she had roused the

  attention of any guard, but all remained quiet.

  Cautiously, she and George stepped inside. One faint

  ray of moonlight shone through a window at the front

  of the building. They followed it to the unrestored

  automobiles in the corner.

  These cars were in various stages of restoration.

  Some needed just a paint job, some needed tires or

  windows. Nancy pulled out her flashlight.

  “What are we looking for?” George asked.

  “Hubcaps,” Nancy said. “The one we found at Lulu

  and Justice's shelter was unusual, remember?”

  “Mm-hmm,” George said with a nod. “It looked as if

  it had a design in the center, but I couldn't tell what it

  was.”

  Nancy laid her flashlight on the hood of a car. Then

  she reached in her backpack and took out a piece of

  paper. It was the pencil rubbing she had made of the

  hubcap.

  “It was an unusual hubcap,” Nancy said. “And

  Antoinette Francoeur collects unusual cars. That

  hubcap was rusty and dented, and some of these cars

  are in similar shape.”

  The two checked all the wheels of the cars waiting to

  be restored.

  “Nothing,” George said flatly. “Well, I guess we'd

  better go. Bess and Kincaid will think we've been

  caught—or something worse.”

  Disappointed, Nancy flashed the light beam around

  the large room. “Wait a minute,” she said. “What's

  that?”

  An old truck sat in the corner by the large garage

  door. Nancy and George hurried across the room. The

  truck wasn't an antique, but it was old—and it was very

  well used.

  Nancy stooped down to check the wheels. Three had

  hubcaps that were dented and rusty like the one they

  had found. In the center of each was an

  indistinguishable design. The fourth tire boasted a

  brand-new hubcap. Shiny and silver in the flashlight

  beam, the center of the hubcap was etched with a

  fleur-de-lis pattern.

  “Of course,” Nancy said. “The fleur-de-lis. It's an iris

  design and was used a lot on armor and in banners in

  France. It was a symbol of the monarchy.” She felt the

  tire treads. “Mmm,” she added. “This truck has been

  used recently. And look at the dirt caked in the treads.

  It looks like the clay soil on the Turners' ranch out by

  Lulu and Justice's shelter.”

  “Maybe Ki
ncaid was right all along,” George said.

  “Ms. Francoeur did take her bison.”

  “Let's get to the other barn,” Nancy said. “Maybe

  they found something.” She stuffed the flashlight and

  pencil rubbing into her backpack. Quickly they left the

  car barn and headed across the drive to the other large

  building.

  The door was unlocked. Inside, the sweetish odor of

  goats and dairy cows mixed with the fresh scent of hay

  and alfalfa. Bess and Kincaid were just inside the door,

  waiting. In the faint moonlight, Nancy could see the

  disappointment on their faces. “Nothing,” Bess said.

  “We had a little more luck,” George said. “Tell

  them, Nancy.”

  Nancy told them about the truck, the hubcap, and

  the fresh dirt. “It sure looks as though someone drove

  that truck out to Lulu and Justice's shelter,” Nancy

  concluded.

  “Then where are they?” Kincaid said. “There aren't

  any other buildings on the estate that could hold them.

  There's no pasture. Where could they be?” She sighed.

  “I say we go confront the woman. Tell her what we

  found and ask her where my bison are.”

  “Not a good idea,” Nancy said. “Let's have Sheriff

  Switzer take care of it. We can tell him about the

  hubcaps on that truck. Having the sheriff ask her why

  she was trespassing on your ranch will get better results

  than we will—especially since we've been caught

  trespassing on her property.”

  “Good point, Nancy,” Bess said. She put an arm

  around Kincaid's shoulders. “Come on,” she said.

  “Nancy's right. Let's get back to the car.”

  They retraced their steps along the nature trail back

  to the Mount Rushmore Visitor Center. “Nancy, how

  can we tell the sheriff that we saw those hubcaps at

  Beauforêt without telling him we were there?” Kincaid

  asked.

  “You call him tomorrow morning. Tell him we were

  there for the press conference and we saw the

  hubcaps,” Nancy said. “He'll assume the two things

  happened at the same time.”

  “Good plan,” Kincaid murmured, nodding. By the

  time they reached the visitor center, it was nearly

  midnight and everything was closed. From the shelter

  of the trees, they could see two rangers drinking coffee

  and talking on one of the viewing terraces. There was

  no one else visible. There were no clouds now and a

  half-moon shone down on the massive granite heads.

  Concealed by the dense forest, they hiked back up

  to their all-terrain vehicle. “Well, I don't know about

  you guys, but I'm glad to be heading back,” Bess said as

  Kincaid started the motor.

  Kincaid had begun to maneuver the vehicle onto the

  ranger road when suddenly she stopped and turned to

  the others. “There's one more thing we have to do

  while we're here,” she said, opening her door.

  “Something that will help us remember this night

  forever.”

  “What's that?” George asked with a yawn.

  “Where are we going?” Bess asked warily. “I have a

  funny feeling about this.” They stood in the clearing

  near the maintenance shed.

  “We're going to stand on the heads,” Kincaid said,

  her voice brimming with excitement. “Clayton and I

  did it once. It's such a thrill. You really feel like you're

  on top of the world. It's just a short walk. We won't

  actually go onto the heads. I'm afraid the rangers

  would see us, but we'll get close to it. Come on.”

  Without waiting for the others, she headed off into

  the trees. Nancy, George, and Bess followed. Abruptly

  they left the shelter of the trees and were in the open.

  Nancy's heart did a somersault as she took in the

  breathtaking view. Even in the dark, she could see the

  outlines of mountains for miles in all directions. She

  had a spooky feeling knowing that they were actually

  above the presidents' heads.

  “I thought you said it was just a short walk,” George

  grumbled as they made their way down the steep rocky

  path.

  Nancy and Bess were walking side by side. Suddenly

  Bess's ankle twisted, and she fell heavily into Nancy.

  Nancy grabbed for her friend, but Bess slipped away.

  “Oh no,” Bess cried as she tumbled. “I can't . . .

  catch myself . . . somebody . . . grab me.”

  “Hang on, Bess,” Nancy yelled as she and George

  half ran and half slid down to their friend

  Nancy felt a cold clammy sweat spread over her as

  she watched in terror as her friend slid onto the cliff

  above Lincoln's head.

  9. A Few Pieces Fit

  Nancy, George, and Kincaid raced forward to see Bess

  tumble onto the cliff above Lincoln's head. Finally she

  came to a stop in a jumbled heap.

  “Hold on, Bess,” Nancy called in a loud whisper.

  Her voice seemed to disappear in the vast open air at

  the top of the mountain. “It's okay, we're here.”

  “We're here, Bess,” George echoed as she and

  Kincaid moved up beside Nancy.

  “Owwww,” Bess moaned. “My shoulder. I think I

  hurt my shoulder when I landed.”

  “Don't move,” Nancy said. “I'm coming to get you.

  Try to stay still and keep your voice down. We'll be in

  even more trouble if the rangers down at the visitor

  center hear us.” Nancy sat down on the rocky ground

  and scooted down to where Bess lay and helped her

  friend to sit up.

  As she looked around, Nancy felt a sudden moment

  of weightlessness. Sitting on top of Lincoln's head

  made her feel a little off balance.

  “Do you want us to come down there?” George

  called.

  “No, stay where you are,” Nancy said. “We can make

  it.” Their arms looped together, the two crawled back

  up the rocky incline to where George and Kincaid

  waited.

  Bess stood up and moved her arm around several

  times. “Ummph,” she muttered. “It hurts.”

  “We'd better get you to a doctor,” Nancy said. “You

  probably should have your arm x-rayed.”

  “Can you move it?” George asked.

  Bess gingerly shrugged her shoulder. “It's okay, I

  guess,” she said. “It just hurts.”

  Gently prodding Bess's arm, Kincaid said, “I'll bet

  it's only bruised.”

  “Just get me home,” Bess said. “I'll be okay. I feel

  better just thinking about that cabin bathtub and bed.”

  “Well, be sure to let us know if you think you need

  to see a doctor tomorrow,” Kincaid said.

  “I will, I will,” Bess said, walking slowly to the car.

  “Well, you were right, Kincaid,” Bess concluded, as

  they drove down the winding ranger road. “That was a

  thrill.”

  Wednesday morning Bess was sore and a little

  bruised, but she felt pretty good, considering the

  tumble she had taken. She insisted she didn't need to

  see a doctor.

  “Oka
y, then, we're still on to go out to Badger

  Brady's today,” Nancy said, checking her watch.

  “Clayton won't be here until noon. That's about an

  hour and a half from now. I'm going to talk to Kincaid's

  mom about the artist for Antoinette Francoeur's

  brochure.” She grabbed the press kit they had gotten at

  Beauforêt and headed across the path toward the

  Turner house.

  Melissa Turner was working at her desk when Nancy

  entered the house. Mrs. Turner was dressed in leather

  jeans and boots and a red shirt that set off her pale skin

  and dark hair.

  “Nancy,” Mrs. Turner said. “I was just thinking

  about the case. Matt says Badger is still insisting he's

  not the rustler.” Mrs. Turner leaned forward, worry

  creasing her forehead. “We've got to figure out who the

  rustler is—and soon, or we may lose our ranch. Do you

  have any ideas?”

  “Actually, I was hoping you could help me out,”

  Nancy said.

  “Sure,” Mrs. Turner answered. She leaned back in

  her chair and urged Nancy to sit in the soft plush love

  seat next to her desk.

  Nancy opened the press kit and took out the Justice

  for Animals brochure and other materials. “Take a look

  at this illustration,” she said, offering the brochure to

  Mrs. Turner.

  Mrs. Turner studied the picture of the two bison.

  “This looks like the work of one of our Art Guild

  members, a local artist. He's a Native American whose

  tribal name means All Bright Winter Moon, but he

  goes by Jack Allbright.”

  “And you think he might have done this illustra-

  tion?” Nancy asked.

  “I'd bet on it,” Melissa Turner said. “He does

  watercolors and has a really distinctive brushstroke.

  Wow! These look like Lulu and Justice.”

  “Kincaid thought so, too,” Nancy said. “How can I

  get hold of Jack Allbright?” Nancy said. “I want to ask

  him about this illustration.”

  “Well, let me see,” Mrs. Turner said. “I should have

  his number right here. Yes, here it is. You want me to

  call and introduce you?”

  “That would be wonderful,” Nancy said.

  Mrs. Turner dialed the number and waited. Then

  she crinkled her nose up at Nancy, saying “Answering

  machine.” She waited a few more moments, then said,

  “Jack? Hi, this is Melissa Turner. I just saw the

  brochure for Justice for Animals. Congratulations on