by Shari Barr
“That was useless,” McKenzie said, disappointed. She stared out the window. Thousands of people are in Branson. I guess there’s no way he’s going to walk into the post office in front of us.
“Don’t give up, girls,” Miss Val said encouragingly. “Not yet, anyway. You’ve found signs that he may be in Branson. You may be onto something.”
McKenzie leaned her head back, lost in thought. I know Miss Val’s right. We’ve found all these little clues about Mr. Ford, but it’s so discouraging. We just have to find him.
After pulling into the driveway in front of Miss Val’s house, the girls climbed out of the car. Miss Val hurried inside while the girls walked leisurely to the front porch.
“I think I’ll go look at my pictures on the computer,” Sydney said, taking her camera from around her neck.
“Go ahead,” McKenzie said. “I’m going to get the mail for Miss Val. Then I’ll be in.”
McKenzie turned and headed back down the gravel lane. She swatted a mosquito on her arm and reached into the mailbox. She pulled out a newspaper with a stack of letters inside. Maybe I have a letter from Mom and Dad, she thought, thumbing through the envelopes.
At the bottom of a stack of bills, a letter caught her eye. Her name was printed across the front in black ink. She didn’t recognize the handwriting but quickly ripped it open. She pulled out a single sheet of tablet paper.
McKenzie gasped as she read the words scrawled across the top: Leave Reggie Ford alone! He’s trying to forget the troubles of his past. He doesn’t need people like you stirring up trouble, so don’t hurt him anymore!
A Clue in the Hills
McKenzie fled up the lane, her tennis shoes crunching the gravel. She took the porch steps two at a time and raced into the house. Clutching the note, she tossed the rest of the mail toward the kitchen table. She missed, and most of it flew to the floor.
“Sydney!” she called, hurrying to her friend who was sitting in front of the computer. “Look at this!”
Sydney grabbed the letter McKenzie thrust in front of her face. Her eyes grew wide, and her jaw dropped. “Who wrote this?”
“I don’t know. It’s not signed, and there’s no return address, either,” McKenzie said as she took a second look at the envelope. “I just noticed that there’s no stamp or postmark. Somebody put this letter in our mailbox, and it wasn’t the mail carrier.”
Sydney studied the note for a moment. “This is so weird. Why don’t we call Alexis and tell her? You know how she’s always watching movie mysteries. Maybe she’s got an idea where to go from here.”
Alexis loved anything involving detectives. She had read so many mystery books that she was practically a pro herself. She knew most of the old Hardy Boys TV shows by heart. If anybody could find a missing clue, it was Alexis.
McKenzie pulled her phone from her pocket and clicked on Alexis’s name. A few seconds later, a familiar voice answered.
“Hi, McKenzie. Thanks for the pictures you guys e-mailed. The Ozarks look really cool, but I wish I was there,” Alexis said cheerfully.
“I wish you were here, too. We just got the weirdest note in the mail,” McKenzie said, settling onto a corner of the couch.
After McKenzie read the note, Alexis whistled. “Wow, this must mean you’re getting close to finding Mr. Ford. Someone doesn’t want you to find him.”
“What do the detectives do in all the mysteries you watch on TV?” McKenzie asked her friend in Sacramento, California.
“Well, they would probably look at the note and envelope for clues,” Alexis suggested. “Can you scan me a copy of them? Send a copy to the other Camp Club Girls, too, and maybe someone can spot a clue. If you’ve got more pictures, send them along. You never know where you might find a clue. Sometimes they’re in plain sight, and we just can’t see them.”
McKenzie agreed, and the two girls scanned the two items on the computer to send to their friends.
“Why don’t you e-mail our pictures from this morning, too? Alexis wants to see them,” McKenzie said.
You never know where someone might find a clue, McKenzie thought, repeating Alexis’s words.
Another idea came to McKenzie’s mind. She slipped the fairy necklace from around her neck, snapped a picture of it, and sent it to the Camp Club Girls. She attached a quick note explaining this was a picture of Mr. Ford’s work.
A few minutes later, the girls received an e-mail message from Alexis. She said she’d get back to them after she looked things over. McKenzie silently prayed their Sacramento friend would find a clue. I’d be happy with a small clue, God. Please, just let us know we’re on the right track.
McKenzie picked Mr. Pibb up off the couch and held him on her lap. He rolled on his back so she could rub his belly. Sydney plopped down beside her, and they studied the note again.
“I don’t understand the line ‘don’t hurt him anymore.’” Sydney pointed to the last line.
“I noticed that, too. Maybe his family hurt him years ago, but we haven’t done anything.” McKenzie propped her legs up on the coffee table and rubbed Mr. Pibb’s furry white belly. “Unless …” Her voice trailed off.
“Oh, Sydney, I just thought of something,” she continued. “Maybe Mr. Ford looked for Shara this afternoon. If he saw the girl in the southern belle dress, he would know immediately it wasn’t his niece. Maybe he thinks we were playing a mean trick on him, telling him his niece was in town.”
McKenzie’s heart sank when she thought that she might have hurt Mr. Ford. Dear God, forgive me if I made him sad. I was only trying to help.
Sydney looked at McKenzie with sympathetic eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. That could be what happened, but what can we do to fix it? I don’t think he’ll read any more mail from us. Anyway, by the time the mail gets to him, I’ll be leaving for home.”
McKenzie stared out the window at the woods surrounding Miss Val’s house. “If we could find him, we could tell him Shara is really looking for him.”
Sydney pulled her long legs under her and leaned her elbows on her knees. She cupped her chin in her hands. “We haven’t made any more calls to woodcrafting shops. We could try a few more and see if they’ve heard of the Shara Smiles man.”
“We might as well try that since there’s not much else we can do right now.” McKenzie sat Mr. Pibb on the couch and grabbed the phone book off the kitchen counter.
Blip, blip! The computer announced a new e-mail in McKenzie’s inbox.
The girls read the message from Alexis together:
The writing looks like a woman’s, don’t you think? And did you notice she dots each i with little circles? I watched a detective show once about a missing person. The person didn’t want to be found, so he tried to frighten people into leaving him alone. I think the woman who wrote this note doesn’t want you to find Reggie Ford, so she’s trying to scare you away.
McKenzie chewed her bottom lip and then jerked her head toward Sydney as a sudden thought came to her. Grabbing the envelope, her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she glanced at the front.
“I don’t believe it,” McKenzie said, her voice low. “How could I have been so stupid? I didn’t even notice it until now.”
“Notice what?” Sydney asked, her eyes flashing suspiciously.
“Look.” McKenzie pointed at Miss Val’s address printed across it. “How did this person know I was staying with Miss Val? I didn’t put my address on the postcard.”
Sydney stared with shock at McKenzie. “You’re kidding. How could anyone know that?”
McKenzie swallowed the knot forming in her throat. “Whoever wrote the note must know Miss Val well enough to know I’m staying with her. Anyone could Google Miss Val’s name and get her address.”
“Why wouldn’t the person just mail the letter instead of sticking it in our mailbox?” Sydney asked, raising her dark eyebrows.
McKenzie frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe he or she wanted the letter to get here quicker.”
“Or maybe the person just wanted to make sure we got the note. Sometimes things get lost in the mail,” Sydney suggested.
McKenzie sighed, her fingers trembling as she typed the information to Alexis. Her fingers were so shaky it took several times to get the typing right.
Alexis: This calls for action from the Camp Club Girls. I’ll e-mail everyone for you. I know we all need to pray, but I’m going to call Elizabeth. She is so smart about these kinds of things. She’ll know what else we need to do. TTYL.
McKenzie rose and stepped into the kitchen. Noticing the mail scattered on the floor, she quickly scooped it up and tossed it on the table. She stood at the window, staring at the garden. Miss Val was busy picking ripe red tomatoes off the lush green vines.
“Should we tell Miss Val about this?” Sydney asked, joining her friend.
“Let’s wait until we hear from Elizabeth. I don’t want Miss Val to worry about us. That will give us time to think over all our clues in case we’re overlooking something obvious.”
McKenzie started to warm up lunch. “The woman who wrote the letter must know Miss Val, and she obviously knows Reggie Ford. But if Miss Val has a friend who knows him, wouldn’t Miss Val have heard his name mentioned sometime?”
“You would think so,” Sydney said, setting three plates on the table for lunch. “Unless Miss Val doesn’t know this person very well. Miss Val knows a lot of people.”
McKenzie nodded as she stuck a leftover casserole in the microwave. “I think we’re onto something. Lots of people could know Miss Val has a couple of girls staying with her, and it wouldn’t be that hard to find out our names. Keep your eyes open this afternoon at Silver Dollar City. See who Miss Val visits with. Maybe by the end of the day, we’ll know what to do.”
Miss Val stepped through the back door with a small bucket of tomatoes. “I had no idea it was so late. Thanks for heating up lunch.”
When lunch was on the table, Miss Val asked McKenzie to say the blessing.
“Dear Lord,” McKenzie prayed. “Thank You for the meal Miss Val has made for us, and please help us find Reggie Ford. It would mean so much to Shara to find her missing uncle. Protect us all as we go to our jobs today. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Miss Val and Sydney murmured, “Amen,” and Miss Val heaped generous portions of chicken casserole onto the girls’ plates. “I work a short shift this afternoon, so I can pick you up, McKenzie, when you’re finished with your Dixie Showcase performance. I saw an old friend the other night while we were down on the Strip. She wants to have supper tonight, so you two girls can have the evening to yourself. Any ideas what you’d like to do?”
McKenzie looked at Sydney as she squirted some strawberry syrup into her glass of milk. “Could we camp out in the backyard sometime?” she asked, clinking her spoon in her glass.
“Sure, you can do that tonight. I’ve got a tent and sleeping bags. If you want to do something in the evening while I’m gone besides sitting around the house, let me know,” Miss Val said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
After lunch the girls cleaned the kitchen while Miss Val went to work in her flowerbeds. McKenzie’s phone beeped, signaling a new text message.
“Oh, good. It’s from Elizabeth. She wants me to call her,” McKenzie said after flipping her phone open. “Do you want to call woodworking shops while I call her back?”
Sydney plopped onto the couch with the phone book in her lap while McKenzie quickly called Elizabeth.
“Hi, McKenzie. Thanks for calling back so soon. I was afraid you were eating lunch, or I would have called you,” Elizabeth said. “Alexis filled me in on the letter you received. I think the writing looks like a woman’s, too. But, I think this woman cares a lot for Reggie Ford, and she probably wrote the letter to protect him. You probably should tell Miss Val about it. She needs to know someone is slipping you notes.”
“I guess you’re right,” McKenzie said. “Maybe she would have some ideas as to who might have written it.”
“Just because she hasn’t heard of Reggie Ford doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a friend who knows him,” Elizabeth explained.
“That makes sense,” McKenzie said, scratching a mosquito bite on her arm. “Maybe I should do that now, before she goes to work.”
They chatted briefly and then hung up. “Any luck yet?” McKenzie called to Sydney, sprawled on the couch.
“I’ve called three different shops. One has never heard of the Shara Smiles man but the other two have. But they have no idea where he lives or his real name. He just brings in his products to sell.”
“We’re not getting anywhere very fast, are we? Liz thinks we should tell Miss Val about the letter, and I think she’s right. She might be able to help us.”
Sydney agreed, and the two girls stepped outside to look for Miss Val. They found her kneeling by the flowerbeds in the backyard. A garden hose lying on the ground hissed as water leaked around the nozzle.
Miss Val rose and wiped her dirty hands on her shorts as the girls told her about the letter. She brushed her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of dirt across her face. She frowned as she read the letter.
“I don’t like the thought of someone leaving anonymous notes to you,” Miss Val said, her eyes growing serious. “Whoever it is probably means no harm, but I’d like to know who wrote this. I know a woman who runs one of the largest craft shops in Branson. I’ll ask her if she knows Reggie Ford. She has lots of connections with woodcrafters.”
Miss Val glanced at her watch and continued. “By the time I get cleaned up, it’ll be time to go to work. We’ll talk more about this later.”
The girls followed her inside and went to their room to change. “I just thought of something,” McKenzie said, dragging a brush through her hair. “Miss Val said she’s going out to supper tonight with a woman she talked to the other night on the Strip. That was the night we were at the Treasure Trove looking at statues. Maybe Miss Val mentioned our names to that woman. Maybe she knows Mr. Ford.”
Sydney’s eyes flashed. “Yeah, maybe she wrote the letter.”
“Let’s mention it to Miss Val.” McKenzie pulled her hair into a high ponytail.
Later, on their way into Branson, McKenzie asked Miss Val about the friend she was meeting that night. “Did you tell her we were looking for fairy statues the other night when you saw her?”
Miss Val thought for a moment before answering. “I’m not sure, but I think I might have mentioned it. Why?”
“We’re trying to think of someone who might have written the note.” McKenzie didn’t want to think Miss Val’s friend was suspicious, but right now everyone was a suspect.
“Libby? Oh, she would never slip an anonymous letter into my mailbox,” Miss Val said, turning the SUV onto the highway. “But I will ask her if she knows anyone by the name of Ford.”
Miss Val dropped McKenzie off at the Dixie Showcase for the performance. McKenzie slammed the car door and walked absentmindedly toward the building. Her cell phone rang, making her jump. “Hi, Bailey,” she said, recognizing the youngest Camp Club Girl’s number.
“Hi, McKenzie. I’ve been looking through the pictures you and Sydney sent. In one of the pictures, you can see a statue in the hills.”
“Oh, I know the one you mean,” McKenzie said. “That was taken from Table Rock Lake when we were riding the Duck.”
“Well, I enlarged the picture,” Bailey added. “I can see the face perfectly clear.”
McKenzie felt a twitch in the pit of her stomach. “And …?” Her voice trailed off, waiting for Bailey to continue.
Bailey spoke in a rushed voice, “The face on the statue looks just like the fairies Reggie Ford carves!”
Lost in the Hills
“I wonder if that statue could possibly be at Mr. Ford’s workshop,” McKenzie said, feeling her excitement mounting.
“I was wondering that, too. Maybe you and Sydney could go check it out,” Bailey suggested.
&nb
sp; McKenzie thought about that for a second. “I’ll ask Miss Val about that when she picks me up.”
McKenzie glanced at her watch as she got off the phone. It was time to get ready for the performance.
The moment she stepped inside the Showcase, her boss, Mr. Stewart, waved at her from the far end of the hallway and hurried toward her.
“McKenzie, I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, glancing at his watch. “We’ve had a change of plans. Sarah, the girl who rides the ostrich during the ostrich race, called in sick, so I need you to take her place. I have another girl taking your part as a southern belle. Can I count on you?”
McKenzie stared at Mr. Stewart. He wants me to ride an ostrich in front of hundreds of people?
The ostrich race was a favorite among the spectators. During every performance the crowd had roared with laughter.
He continued, “I saw you riding the other day, and you’ll do fine. This routine is supposed to be comical. If you don’t do it perfectly, the show will be that much better. How about it?”
After one of the performances the week before, several of the Showcase performers tried riding the ostriches just for fun. McKenzie was one of the few who could stay on the huge bird for more than a few seconds. She’d even managed to guide the ostrich around the arena.
“Sure, Mr. Stewart. It sounds like fun,” McKenzie said with a smile.
“Great,” he said, clutching her shoulder. “Head to wardrobe, and Cecilia will help you find a uniform. She’s waiting for you.”
As McKenzie stepped into the wardrobe room, Cecilia Ambruster, a woman with spiked black hair, called to her. “I have several uniforms that may fit you.”
Miss Ambruster held a pair of gray Confederate pants against McKenzie. “Way too long,” she muttered and grabbed another pair. “Ah, these look like they’ll fit. Why don’t you look for a jacket that fits, while I press these pants?”
“Do I really have to wear pants?” McKenzie asked.
