The Mystery of Rainbow Gulch

by Norvin Pallas

  “How much does he weigh?” asked Nelson.

  “Nowhere near three hundred pounds. Probably not even half that much, dripping wet. You’d better give up this idea about a three-hundred-pound man. I don’t think there is such a person.”

  “Then you think it was José who visited the wreck?” asked Ted.

  “That’s hard to tell. I don’t know what he would have been doing around there. He surely couldn’t have known that the plane was going to crash. But if he did just happen to be there, he’ll never tell.”

  It was time for the train to come in, but Nelson begged off. “Look, do you mind if I stroll around the town instead?”

  “Sure, you do that, Nel. Just walk right up and talk to anybody you please. Everybody’s friendly.”

  Presently the local came chugging up the track, and there was considerable bustle around the unloading platform.

  “Nothing but packages today, men,” the station master announced in passing. “No passengers,” he informed the next group he passed.

  Jake Pastor was just entering the station as they left. He had come into town mounted, for he refused to ride in a car.

  “You don’t catch me in one of those contraptions,” Ted heard him say to a friend in a car who made a jibing remark. “I had a car once, but I had to get rid of it. It balked every time it saw a horse!”

  Then he went on in, and they could hear him inquiring urgently after a package. Bob grinned.

  “Sometime there will be a package for him, and he’ll be so surprised he won’t know what to do. Hey, what’s Nel doing across the street?”

  Ted saw Nelson apparently engaged in a conversation with one of the local people. “Come on,” said Bob with a groan, grabbing Ted’s arm and pulling him across the street. He went up to Nelson, nodded at the other man, then drew Nelson quickly away.

  “What’s the matter?” Nelson demanded. “You said everybody was friendly.”

  “I meant everybody except José. I don’t think he could talk to you if he wanted to, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to.”

  “So that’s José. I was wondering why he was listening to me so quietly, but I thought he was just being polite. Those people laughing at me? You can tell them, Ted, about the time I ran eighty yards against North Ridge.”

  “I don’t think they’d be interested,” Ted answered. “Did you notice something about José? He wasn’t wearing that type of odd-shaped shoes he bought at the store.”

  A friend a little older than Bob pulled up in his car, and Bob introduced his guests. The driver was Larry Kirstead, and he apologized for not getting out of the car because he was pressed for time.

  “I hope you’re putting these fellows to work for you, Bob. That’s what I’d do if I had them up my way.”

  “You running short of help?”

  “Sure, but who isn’t, this time of year?”

  “Losing any more sheep?”

  “Wait a minute, what do you think this is? We don’t lose one every night. Even a mountain lion doesn’t get that hungry.”

  “Do you think there’s a mountain lion?” Nelson inquired.

  “Well, I tried to convince my dad there was, but he wouldn’t give me the day off.”

  After Larry had driven off, they went on to the bus depot. When the bus pulled in, a number of people got off, none of them of any special interest to Bob. But he had a good time talking with the people around him, and introducing his friends. As Bob explained, they might never see any of these people again—unless it turned out that they needed them, and then everyone would be right on the spot to help.

  They were nearly home again when Bob remarked, “Oh, nuts, we’ll have to go back to town.”

  “What did you forget?” asked Ted.

  “A present for Tony. I always bring her something when I go to town. She’ll be disappointed.”

  “I’ve got a little shaving mirror I don’t need,” Nelson recollected. “Maybe she’d like that for her doll. Would that be good enough?”

  “That sounds fine, and it’ll save us an extra trip besides. She’ll be pleased with anything.”

  When they drove into the farmyard, Tony came running to meet them. “Bob, I earned another nickel today. Will that help us go on our airplane ride?”

  “Everything helps. You just keep right on.”

  “Give me a horseback ride, Bob?”

  “Well, only up to the barn.”

  She was lifted up onto his back. “I’m going to have a ride on Starlight tonight,” she remarked.

  “Is she?” asked Ted, then realized that Tony had hoped to get a promise from Bob while he wasn’t listening.

  “Is she what? A ride on Starlight? You are not.”

  This little exchange with Tony had given Nelson the opportunity to hurry into the house and get the mirror. He returned now, and managed to give it to Bob without Tony’s noticing.

  “Here, Tony—something I got for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a mirror for your doll. Doesn’t she need one?”

  “Yes, she does. I told her this very morning that she should learn to part her hair better and she said she didn’t have a mirror. Now she’ll have one all for herself.”

  Bob went on to the barn, Tony ran into the house, and Nelson returned to the car to bring in the packages. Ted Was about to follow him when a man stepped out of the bunkhouse. This was not one of the regular hired hands, who were already known to Ted by sight and nickname. The stranger was young with a light complexion, and bright and friendly eyes.

  He immediately extended his hand. “Hello, there. You must be Bob Fontaine. My name’s Henry Cox. Your father hired me this afternoon.”

  Ted accepted his hand, but explained: “My name’s Ted Wilford. I’m just a visitor here.”

  “Oh, well, I guess it doesn’t hurt for us to get acquainted. Do you know when we have grub, or should I say chow?”

  “It won’t be long now. I understand that Mrs. Jansen uses a dinner bell to call in stragglers, but don’t ever wait for it.”

  “Thanks for the advice. Glad I met you,” and the young man strolled off whistling.

  At the supper table Bob asked about the new man. “How’s he doing, Dad?”

  “Oh, you’ve met Cox? Doesn’t know much about farm work, but he’s a willing worker. I imagine he’s an office clerk who wants to work outside for a while for his health. We can use him for a while. I don’t think he plans to stay long.”

  But Cox seemed to be completely healthy, Ted thought, and found himself growing vaguely disturbed for no very good reason. He knew that ranchers didn’t inquire too closely into a man’s background, but accepted him at face value, until they had good reason not to. Surely there seemed to be little reason to be suspicious of Cox. He was the good-natured, open type of person who disarms suspicion.

  “I didn’t see another car outside, Dad. Did he get a lift?”

  “Apparently not. He must have walked out from town on foot.”

  No more was said, and only later did Ted recall that they had watched the arrival of both the train and the bus that day, and Cox had certainly not come in on either one, nor had anyone mentioned him in town. It seemed more likely that he had arrived from over the hills, picking up the road this side of Hopalong. If he had done that, he must have passed many other farms where he could just as easily have found employment.

  Ted didn’t like to be suspicious, yet he could not escape the hunch that Cox hadn’t arrived there entirely by chance. There must be some purpose that had brought him directly to Fontaine farm.

  CHAPTER 6.

  THE CRY OF THE LION

  The boys went riding again that evening. When Tony saw them getting ready, she asked of Nelson:

  “Are you going to ride Humpty-Dumpty again?”

  “Who’s Humpty-Dumpty?” Nelson wanted to know.

  Bob looked embarrassed. “No fooling, Nel, his name really was Blaze at first. It was only afterward that everybody started
calling him Humpty-Dumpty, until they almost forgot about the other name.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me he was called Humpty-Dumpty?” Nelson demanded.

  “Well, er, don’t you think you’d rather ride a horse named Blaze than one named Humpty-Dumpty?”

  Nelson understood now, and looked a little grim. It was clear that he had been given the slowest, easiest-to-handle horse available, and that the name Blaze had been used to hide that fact from him. Then he laughed.

  “Of course if you really wanted a ride on Starlight—” Bob offered, by way of apology.

  “No, thanks. Humpty-Dumpty suits me just fine.”

  Somehow none of the boys felt like riding up to the ridge again. But there was plenty that Ted and Nelson had not yet seen in other directions.

  “Let’s ride over to the Franton place,” Bob suggested. “I mean where the Franton place was. Nobody lives there now.”

  “A haunted house?” asked Nelson hopefully.

  “Afraid not. The house burned down a couple of years ago, and I don’t think there’s enough left to interest a ghost. It’s got a big barn, though.”

  A hole in the ground where a house had once stood was hardly a stellar attraction, but the ride was pleasant, and on the way Bob had time to tell them a little about the tragedy which had struck there.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Franton were newcomers out here. They were apparently a hard-luck couple. It looked as though they had failed at a number of things, and were now going to try their hands at farming. Dad sent me over here, soon after they moved in, to see if there was anything we could do for them. I spoke to Mr. Franton, who seemed a very pleasant person, and his wife waved at me from the doorway. They didn’t have anything for me to do, so I rode home, and that very afternoon the place went up in flames. They both died in the fire. Apparently the oil heater exploded, and the flames spread so quickly they had no chance to escape.”

  They found they could not go into the barn if they had wanted to, for it was padlocked.

  “There wasn’t very much left,” said Bob regretfully, “just a little furniture, some livestock, and an old car. There’ll be an auction in a couple of days and everything will go. Maybe Dad will let me take time off to come over for it. An auction’s kind of fun, even if you don’t buy anything.”

  “Who feeds the livestock?” asked Nelson, nodding toward the barn.

  “The animals aren’t in there. They were taken off by farmers around here, and will be replaced in kind for the auction.”

  When they rode up to the gaping black hole with the charred stone foundations, they got an idea of the extent of the tragedy.

  “I don’t see how any furniture was left, after a fire like that,” Ted observed.

  “Oh, the furniture wasn’t all in the house. Some of it hadn’t been carried in yet, or else they decided to store it in the barn.”

  “Why an auction?” asked Nelson as they started on the ride home. “Weren’t there any relatives to claim things?”

  “Not that we know of. The license on the car was traced and their old address found, but they had only lived there a little while, and no one knew them any more. I guess they were the kind of people who never stayed in one place for long.”

  They arrived home at sunset. It turned out that Mr. and Mrs. Fontaine were going out for the evening to visit friends, and were taking Tony with them. The hired hands, with their day’s work done, either had driven off or retired early. Only one light showed in the bunkhouse.

  Bob helped stable Meadowlark and Humpty-Dumpty, but did not unsaddle Starlight immediately.

  “Say, would you mind if I rode over to see Larry Kirstead? He wanted me to help him work on his radio.”

  “Sure, go right ahead,” Ted returned.

  “We’ll make ourselves at home,” Nelson added.

  “You can put on television if you want to; we often get a pretty good picture out here if you fool with it long enough.”

  Then Bob was off.

  “It sounded like he wanted to get rid of us,” Nelson complained. “He didn’t even ask if we wanted to go along.”

  “Maybe he wanted to ride, and didn’t think we were experienced enough to ride after dark. Anyway, he doesn’t have to make excuses to us.”

  “You and I could have gone in the car,” Nelson pointed out. “But I guess you’re right. We don’t have to hang on him every minute, just because we’re visitors.”

  They tried the television set, but the picture was so fuzzy that they gave up. There were books and magazines around, and a copy of yesterday’s newspaper. These occupied them for a while, and then, as Bob did not return and the house remained quiet, they decided it would be a good time to write letters home.

  “Did you know that Tony wasn’t really Bob’s sister—that they’re trying to adopt her?” asked Nelson.

  “Yes, Mr. Fontaine told me.”

  “I suppose they make a point of telling everybody, so no one will make a bad slip of the tongue. Bob thinks that Tony doesn’t remember very much about how she came here, but she may—just a little. Can you imagine her parents doing something like that, Ted? I guess it takes all kinds of people to make the world.”

  “And all kinds of problems, too. We don’t know what they were up against. Maybe there are circumstances that would explain it, even if they don’t entirely excuse it.”

  Since Bob had told Nelson, Ted saw no point in refusing to discuss the affair, though he was careful to make no mention of Mrs. Manners and her threat. When their letters were finished, the evening still seemed young.

  “Why don’t we begin working on that report for Mr. MacCafferty?” Ted suggested.

  “I thought we’d wait till all three of us were together.”

  “Oh, well, I don’t see any reason why we can’t start. Bob can add his ideas later.”

  They discussed the accident for a while, finding they were pretty well agreed on the time, the angle from which the plane approached Sandy Hill, its altitude, and other details. Ted got these down on paper, in a rough fashion. Then they went on to the second part of the report, the expedition to Sandy Hill. They worked on this together, each thinking of details to include that had not occurred to the other.

  “Are you going to say that those footprints may have been made by José?” Nelson inquired.

  “No, that would be just a guess. We don’t know how many hands this report is going through, so let’s keep everything just as accurate as we can make it.”

  “A three-hundred-pound man, then?” asked Nelson.

  “No, just a very heavy man.”

  Then a sudden cry shot through the air. Ted almost dropped his fountain pen as they got to their feet. The cry was repeated, an unearthly cry such as they had never heard before, long, wailing, and menacing.

  “The mountain lion!” Nelson exclaimed.

  “What makes you think so?” Ted inquired.

  “Well, whatever it is, I never heard anything like it.”

  They listened intently, but the cry was not repeated, although Cougar, apparently locked in the barn, had begun to bark. There was no other movement they could hear, no alarm from the bunkhouse or among the stock.

  “So that’s it,” Ted muttered.

  “What’s it?” Nelson demanded, determined not to be excited as long as Ted wasn’t.

  “Why didn’t Bob want us to go with him? Why is Cougar locked in the barn? Why isn’t somebody stirring down at the bunkhouse? Surely there must be somebody there.”

  “Oh.” Suddenly Nelson laughed. “So you think that’s Bob out there?”

  “Yes, and probably his friend Larry. The men in the bunkhouse must be in on it, too. This is probably a pretty good joke to play on the tenderfeet.”

  “What do we do, rush outside and try to catch them in the act?”

  “No, we probably wouldn’t find them, and I suppose there is just about one chance in a thousand that it really is a mountain lion. Let’s play it real cool, just as though we weren’t p
aying any attention to it.”

  “It would be pretty hard not to pay any attention to that.”

  They were in a little study off the dining room, and figured they were probably visible to Bob and Larry outside. They could not undo the fact that they had jumped up at the sound, but now they sat down quietly and continued working on the report. When they were finished, they sat back and stretched, as though they were thinking about bed.

  “What do you think they’ll do now?” Nelson whispered.

  “Oh, I don’t think they’ll let us off this easy. That mountain lion will have to come back.”

  It was time for bed, so they switched off the light and walked through to the kitchen, where they ate the sandwiches Mrs. Fontaine had left for them. Then, without hurrying, they walked upstairs. Hardly were they in bed and the light out when the cry came again, even more plaintive in the still air.

  “I’ve got an idea.” Nelson crept over to the window and opened the screen. He had one of his old shoes in his hand and threw it out. “Scat, scat!” he called, then returned to bed, as they muffled their laughter in their pillows.

  That was not the end, for fifteen minutes later a rifle began to fire. The visitors sat up in bed. It was becoming an exciting show. Were they really missing something? But then the shots ceased, and about half an hour later they heard Bob arrive home on Starlight. When he finally came upstairs, he opened their door quietly, but getting no response, closed it again and went on to his own room.

  At the breakfast table, Mr. Fontaine inquired how the visitors had slept.

  “Oh, pretty well, thank you,” Nelson responded. “There was an old cat hanging around outside the window. I threw my shoe out at it, and that seemed to help some.”

  “I thought I heard a few rifle shots, too,” Ted added, “but I didn’t know there was night hunting around here. Maybe I dreamed it.”

  Mr. Fontaine looked shrewdly at his son. “What were you and Larry up to last night, Bob? One of your jokes?”

  “Oh, not really a joke, Dad,” Bob protested, looking down at his plate. “I was hoping they’d back me up when I came to ask for the day off. Besides, I thought they’d enjoy a hunt more if they really believed there was a mountain lion.”