“What would you three like to do this morning?” Heather asked, recovering her composure. “Our dinner guests won’t be arriving till early afternoon, when we’ll ride into the Superstitions. There’s a pretty trail that leads to the place where Ward and Maria will have our dinner waiting.”
“I’d like to get to know Ngyun a little better,” Nancy suggested, remembering her other mystery. “Maybe he could tell us more about finding the filly.”
Heather sighed. “I’m afraid he’s already gone,” she said. “I went to invite him to join us this afternoon, but Maria said he’d left just after dawn.”
Nancy frowned. “Where does he go?” she asked.
“I don’t really know,” Heather admitted. “He gets on that pinto and rides out into the desert. He used to talk about learning to trail animals and watching coyotes and jackrabbits, things like that. But since the fires...” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t think he trusts us anymore.”
“Could we check the places where the fires have been set?” Nancy asked, determined to do what she could to help the unhappy boy.
“Sure,” Heather replied. “You can see the blackened area up there on the ridge.” She indicated a rocky ledge about a mile from the stable. “That’s where he set the first one. He said he was learning to make smoke signals.”
“And the others?” Nancy asked.
“Well, besides the one Grandfather thought he saw, there have been three, and the only other close one is about half a mile beyond that ridge. You can’t see it from here, but when you get up on the ridge, the burned saguaro is off toward the mountains. ”
“So those two are within walking distance,” Nancy mused.
Heather nodded. “I’d take you to see all of them today, but Chuck’s already off with the jeep to run errands, and the roads are too rough for the station wagon.”
“After this breakfast, I need the exercise,” Nancy assured their hostess, then turned to Bess and George. “Are you ready for a nice walk in the desert?”
“You’re sure you wouldn’t rather lie by the pool and start a suntan?” Bess asked hopefully.
George and Nancy shook their heads, laughing.
As the three girls set off past the stable and corrals, they quickly discovered that the desert was far from desolate. The spring rains had brought green to the tufts of grass that grew everywhere, and there were delicate wild flowers on the gently rising and falling slopes of the hills that rolled toward the Superstitions. Yellow, blue, red, and white blossoms danced in the light breeze, and even the cactus exhibited flowers of varying hues.
“Why, it is really beautiful,” Bess commented as she stopped to watch a large jackrabbit bounding between two fat-bodied barrel cactuses, with their crowns of pale flowers.
“Look, there’s a roadrunner,” Nancy called, pointing to where the big bird was racing from one clump of grass to another. He paused, lifting his black-crested head to stare at them. Then, with a jerking of his long black tail, he was on his way again, disappearing behind a strange cactus that looked as though it was composed of monkey tails topped with scarlet flowers.
“Don’t they fly?” Bess asked as the bird appeared on a small ridge ahead of them, still on his feet.
“They can,” Nancy replied. “They just prefer to run.”
Ahead, more desert wildlife left cover as several quail took flight. Nancy stopped, and in a moment the gray and brown birds with their dainty, black head plumes returned to the ground. Almost at once, a dozen little, yellow and brown-streaked balls of fluff emerged from the grass to join their parents. They disappeared into their thicket again as the girls detoured away from them on their walk to the ridge.
Once they reached the top, Nancy saw the charred remains of the fire. There were several stubs of scrap wood and the ends of some wooden kitchen matches. Bending closer, she could see that there were more bits of wood under the sand.
“It looks like someone tried to put this out,” she observed. “Maybe Ngyun kicked sand over it and thought it was out, then it smouldered back to life.”
“At least he didn’t just go off and leave it to burn,” Bess agreed.
“It wouldn’t really matter,” George contributed. “There’s nothing around close enough to catch fire anyway.”
“What about that cactus down below?” Bess asked, pointing toward the blackened skeleton of what had been a large and handsome saguaro cactus at the bottom of the hill.
Nancy picked up the ends of the kitchen matches and dropped them into her pocket, sure that they were a clue Ngyun had left, since she’d seen a box of kitchen matches on the big range in the resort kitchen.
The ground was rougher after they left the ridge. Small stones twisted treacherously under their feet, and the long spines of a big, prickly pear cactus reached out toward them as they slipped and slid down the incline toward the burned saguaro.
Once they reached it, Nancy looked around. “This doesn’t seem like a very good place to light a signal fire,” she said. “No one could see it.”
“Maybe that was the idea,” George suggested. “After being scolded for lighting the one on the ridge, he wouldn’t have wanted anyone at the resort to see this next fire.”
Nancy nodded, realizing that her friend could be correct. However, as she looked around the area of the blackened cactus, she quickly saw the difference. There was no neat pile of charred wood and, though she scraped the sandy soil all around the burned area, no sign of wooden match stubs.
“What do you think?” Nancy asked after she explained what she’d been looking for.
“I’d say this was deliberately set on fire,” George said, frowning, “and not as a signal fire, either.”
“But why?” Bess asked. “Why would anyone set fire to a cactus?”
Nancy could only shrug her shoulders. She was silent and thoughtful as they turned away from the blackened corpse of the saguaro. There was something wrong, and it had little to do with the burned cactus. She felt a prickling of fear and looked back just in time to see the massive saguaro sway and start to fall!
7
A Bolting Mare
There was no time to warn her friends. Nancy grabbed Bess and George by their arms and threw them and herself out of the path of the falling cactus. They all three stumbled and fell sprawling on the ground as the saguaro crashed to earth where they had been standing.
“What happened?” George gasped. “How ...?”
“I saw it falling,” Nancy explained. “I guess I must have loosened the soil at the bottom while I was searching for clues.” She stopped, not sure that she believed her own words.
Bess shivered. “This place really is haunted,” she observed. “Let’s get back to the resort.”
Nancy nodded, realizing that there was nothing else to be done here. Only the promise of the afternoon ride and the evening barbecue under the stars lifted her spirits from the unfamiliar feeling of confusion that both cases had brought her so far.
When the girls returned to the ranch and reported their experience to Chuck and Heather, he apologized for having neglected to warn them about the danger of the burned cactus.
“I’ve been wanting to pull it down,” Chuck said. “But I just forgot about it after Grandfather was hurt. I’m glad you acted so quickly, Nancy.”
“No one blames you,” Nancy assured him. “And I don’t think it just happened to fall down all by itself, although I was digging in the ashes around it.”
“You mean—?” Bess stared at her friend in shock. The thought that someone might have toppled the cactus to hurt the girls had not occurred to her earlier.
Nancy nodded. “Could be another attempt of our unknown enemy to get rid of us. Unfortunately, I have no way to prove it.”
Heather’s face was worried, but she tried to cheer up her friends. “Well, whatever the reason was that the cactus fell, I think you should all relax by the pool now,” she said. “Save your energy for tonight.”
“That sounds like
a wonderful idea,” Bess agreed.
When time for the barbecue ride came, Nancy, Bess, and George were delighted to discover that the other guests were four young, male friends of Chuck’s and a pert brunette that Heather introduced as Diana. Chuck had the horses saddled and waiting, and as soon as they finished the introductions, everyone went to the stable to mount up for the ride.
Chuck, with Bess riding beside him, took the lead, and Nancy quickly found herself alongside a dark-haired young man called Floyd Jerrett. He proved to be a pleasant companion as he pointed out the various formations among the weathered and somewhat overwhelming rock cliffs of the ever-closer Superstition Mountains.
“Did you ever go up there to look for the Lost Dutchman Mine?” Nancy asked.
Floyd laughed. “Everyone around here does,” he answered. “I’ve ridden or hiked over most of the mountains since I was seven or eight. That’s when I used to go out weekends with my father. We have even come across gold up there.”
“From the mine?” Nancy was impressed.
“Oh, no, nothing that exciting. There are some small pockets of gold or short veins of it that wash out or are uncovered by the winter rains and floods. We’ve found nuggets and gold dust in the washes.”
“If you girls are going to be here long enough, perhaps we can go prospecting,” Tim, one of the other young men, suggested, smiling shyly at George. “We might find something, you never know. ”
“With Nancy’s talent as a detective, we could even find the Dutchman’s mine,” Heather suggested from the rear of the group where she was riding with Diana’s brother Paul.
“I can supply the maps,” Diana offered with a giggle. “I must have twenty-five and they’re all different.”
“And all genuine,” her date, Jerry Blake, added.
“Thanks, but I think I have quite enough mysteries at the moment,” Nancy said, laughing easily.
“Nancy has seen our resident ghost,” Heather told everyone.
Discussion of the Kachina spirit and the various stories about the old house kept them all busy as they rode up into the rugged mountains, following narrow trails that were flanked by sheer cliffs on one side and rather frightening, rocky slides on the other. Though Nancy loved to ride and found her bright chestnut mare Dancer a pleasure to handle, she was glad when the trail finally dropped down into a small canyon rich with trees and flowers. They reined in near the small stream that was fed by a spring.
The ranch jeep was parked at the mouth of the canyon, and the sweet scents of food already filled the air as the young people dismounted and walked over to where Maria and her strong, dark-eyed husband were working at a small campfire. Nancy looked around and was disappointed not to find Ngyun in sight, but just as she opened her mouth to inquire about the boy, a flash of black and white appeared between the trees and he rode up to them.
Maria and Ward Tomiche greeted Ngyun with what looked like relief. When he rode to where the horses were tied, Nancy joined him. Talking to the boy was difficult at first, for he was very shy, but when she asked him about his horse, his attitude changed.
“He mine,” Ngyun said. “Really mine. My grandfather say I have any horse in big herd. I take Cochise. He beautiful.”
“You ride very well, too,” Nancy told him. “Did your grandfather teach you?”
“Some,” Ngyun answered. “We not see him much now. Uncle Ward and Aunt Maria help and Chuck. They say I like real Indian.”
Nancy let the boy talk on, asking him questions about where he went and what he did. There was no hesitation in his answers, she noted. If he was lying or covering up, he was far better at it than any adult she’d ever questioned. His almond eyes fairly glowed as he talked about the deer and the wild, piglike creatures called javelina that he’d seen in the washes leading from the mountains into the desert.
“When I learn to use bow and arrows good, I hunt them,” he said. “Grandfather say he bring home dinner with bow and arrows.”
“Don’t get too close to the javelina,” Ward cautioned from the fire, where he was helping Maria set out the various dishes of food. “They may look like long-haired pigs, but they have very sharp tusks and nasty dispositions. They can be dangerous.”
“Dinner is ready,” Heather announced before either Ngyun or Nancy could say another word.
Never had food tasted so good. There were mounds of barbecued ribs dripping with a delicious sauce. Beans, both the traditional, baked kind and the Mexican, refried variety, were offered. There were taco chips and a green mound of guacamole dip made from avocados and onions and cottage cheese. Fresh fruits and vegetables were set out in cold water, and there was plenty of icy soda to drink.
“Don’t you love our fancy china?” Heather teased, passing out battered, tin pie plates and sturdy eating utensils as well as bandana-sized napkins.
“Everything is just perfect,” George assured her as she began heaping food on her plate. “The high sides on the pie plates keep the food where it is supposed to be.”
Bess sampled the refried beans, which were delicately spiced with bits of hot peppers and onions. “Oh, this is heavenly,” she told Maria. “But if you’re going to feed your guests like this, I don’t think they’ll be losing any weight.”
Chuck looked up with innocent eyes. “Oh, didn’t Heather tell you, we have a new method of dieting. We feed you like this, but then you have to hike back to the ranch.”
Mock groans were followed by loud protest, and everyone relaxed on the grass to eat, talking contentedly of past and future rides, picnics, and barbecues. Only when the plates had been scraped clean did Bess sigh and say, “I know I shouldn’t ask after all that food, but is there dessert?”
There was general laughter, but when Maria nodded, everyone turned toward her. “Indian Fry Bread,” she announced. “I’ve brought the dough out and I’ll fry it here, then you put either powdered sugar or honey inside. It makes a perfect dessert. ”
“Fried bread?” Bess looked dubious, but when she received the first piece and dutifully poured on the honey, her expression changed. “Why, it’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I must find out how to make it. Everyone at home will be fascinated.”
Once the food was gone, Chuck and the other young men gathered more of the nearby dead wood—fallen limbs, trees, and bushes that hadn’t come back to life with spring’s magic. The campfire blazed as the sun suddenly slipped beneath the horizon, plunging them quickly into night.
Ward produced a guitar from the jeep and Chuck began to play while Bess looked at him dreamily. The familiar melody soon had everyone singing along. Nancy leaned her head back, staring up at the stars, thinking how lovely and peaceful everything seemed.
“Once the moon is up, we’ll have to start back,” Chuck told them between songs.
“Not the way we came, I hope,” Bess murmured. “I’d be afraid of missing that trail in the dark.”
“No, we’ll take an easier route,” Heather promised. “We don’t want any trouble.”
While they sang, Nancy noticed that Ward and Maria had packed up all the supplies, and once the jeep was loaded, they left the canyon. Ngyun vanished, too, not waiting to ride back with them through the cooling, night air.
“I’m glad you told us to tie our jackets behind our saddles, Heather,” Nancy said, pulling hers on before she mounted Dancer. “It feels good now.”
“The desert can be quite cold at night,” Heather agreed. “Even in the summer, it cools off once the sun goes down.”
They were quiet as they rode back, following the edge of a wash that led through the rough hills. Nancy was so deep in thought, trying to decide what to do about the Kachina spirit, that she didn’t notice when the mare slowed a little. Dancer dropped behind the other horses to nibble at a tuft of grass growing on the rough hillside the trail was skirting.
Suddenly, the silence of the desert night was broken by a rattling, and Dancer whinnied, nearly unseating the young sleuth. Though she’d lost a stirrup, Na
ncy clenched her knees to the mare’s sides, trying to keep her moving forward on the trail. But the horse was too terrified. In a moment, they were slipping and sliding down the rocky slope toward the bottom of the wash.
Frightened, Nancy grabbed the saddle horn and did her best to stay still in the saddle so as not to throw the mare off-balance as she skidded toward the hard-baked earth below. Rocks and other debris fell with them, and she could hear the shouts of the others, but at the moment everything depended on the mare’s surefootedness.
Dancer’s plunging ended as she stumbled to her knees, nearly throwing Nancy over her head. Still the terrified mare didn’t stop. She scrambled back to her feet and leaped forward, with Nancy hanging on for dear life!
8
The Rattler
The mare stumbled again in the roughness of the wash.
Nancy regained her balance and immediately tightened her hold on the reins, trying to steady the mare. She talked to the animal as calmly as she could while her own heart was still racing from the terror of their wild descent. “Steady, girl. It’s all right, Dancer,” she soothed, finally succeeding in stopping the trembling creature.
“Nancy, Nancy, are you all right?” Heather called.
“I’m fine,” Nancy answered, getting off the horse. “But I think we should check Dancer. She went down on het knees when we hit bottom and may have injured her legs.”
In a moment, Heather, Bess, George, and the others rode back along the wash, having come down a more gradual slope further along the trail. “I have a flashlight,” Heather said, taking it out of her saddlebag and dismounting to join Nancy on the ground. “What happened?” she asked as they examined the mare’s slim front legs.
“It was a rattlesnake,” Nancy explained. “I was riding along and all of a sudden it seemed to come down the cliff after us. I tried to keep Dancer on the trail, but she was terrified, of course. It must have been right under her hooves. Do you think she could have been bitten?”