Showdown at Widow Creek (8 page)

“It was probably Mike or Tim,” I said. “Of course they would know Lucky.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there, bro.” Joe glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was around. “It almost seemed like the guy wondered why Lucky was interfering with their plans.”

That put a different spin on things. “Did you ask Lucky about it?” I asked.

Joe shook his head. “I pretended like I didn’t hear. Besides, we had the whole stopping-the-stampede thing to worry about.”

“That was intense,” I said.

“Yeah!” Joe’s eyes gleamed. “I can’t believe you jumped a dirt bike.”

“A downed dirt bike,” I corrected.

After the stampede fiasco, Wally had called a break for lunch. It was important to let the horses and cattle rest after their run. My adrenaline was still up from the stampede, so it had been hard to eat. Everyone else seemed to feel the same; there had been more talking than eating. The guests and cowhands had rehashed the exciting events from each of their perspectives. Lucky told everyone about how he saw me jump the dirt bike. I had given due credit to Harvey. After all, he had been the one jumping; I had been the one holding on for dear life.

Lucky hadn’t mentioned the rustler calling his name, however. Wally had even blamed the event on—his term—“idiot kids” joyriding and spooking the cattle for a laugh. I remembered now that Lucky hadn’t bothered to correct him and said as much to Joe.

“You’re right,” Joe said. “And I sure didn’t want to bring it up in front of everybody, at least without telling you first.”

“Think we should tell him now?” I asked.

Joe glanced over at the chuck wagon. Wally kept the mules driving parallel with the herd. “We still don’t have any solid proof that Lucky’s involved.”

I sighed. “You’re right.” I spun in the saddle, trying to locate Sarah. I spotted her riding two positions back, on the left side of the herd. “Let me talk to Sarah first. You got this for a minute?”

Joe pointed to the path ahead. “Hard to get lost now.”

The closer we traveled to the Welch ranch, the more obvious the trail became. Wally must have run many cattle drives near this point. Hoofprints and wagon ruts stretched across the pasture before us.

I turned Harvey and urged him back along the herd.

“Jumpin’ Frank Hardy,” Dusty said as I rode by.

I pulled up to Sarah and turned Harvey to walk beside her.

“You getting bored up there?” she asked.

“No, it’s great being in front for a change,” I said. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

Sarah winked. “And here I thought you just missed my sparkling personality.”

I blushed. I did enjoy talking to her. In fact, she was the main thing making this trip enjoyable. I was too shy (or stupid) to tell her that, though. “Uh, so what do you think those dirt bikers were up to?”

Sarah raised an eyebrow and smiled. “My father told me that the Hardy boys were trying to solve our little mystery.”

“We may not be great cowboys,” I started, and then corrected myself. “Well,
I
may not be a great cowboy. But as detectives, we’re not too shabby.”

“The dirt bikes . . .” She trailed off, then looked up in thought. “Well, they’re probably just what my dad said,” she replied. “Stupid kids, you know?”

“What if they weren’t just kids?” I asked. “Could four guys on dirt bikes steal a whole herd?”

“Like
real
cattle rustlers?” she asked. “I don’t think so. You know how hard it would be to run cattle with a loud, smelly dirt bike? And just four of them too.” Her brow furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“I—we think it was Mike and Tim again,” I explained. “If not them, than at least someone Lucky knows.” I reported what Joe had heard.

“Those dirty snakes.” Sarah frowned. “Why won’t they leave us alone?”

“What we don’t understand is what they’re trying to accomplish,” I said. “If they couldn’t steal the herd, then what?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “To get back at my dad somehow.”

“They’re going through an awful lot of trouble just because your dad reprimanded them.”

“Well, you chased them off easily enough,” she said.

“Joe and I got lucky,” I admitted. “But if we hadn’t been here, between you and the other cowhands, they would’ve been chased off regardless.”

“They did try to steal Hondo back in Bayport,” she said.

“Yeah, and that kind of motive I understand.” I pointed at Hondo. “He’s a great horse and probably worth a lot of money. But if they were behind the cinches, maybe the dam, and now this . . . it all seems kind of . . . prankish.”

She thought for a moment. “You’re right. They didn’t even go after Hondo when they stampeded the cattle.”

“Do you think Lucky would know anything else about it?” I asked.

Sarah eyed me suspiciously. “What? Like he’s involved somehow?”

I shrugged. “Joe said that one of the guys seemed surprised that Lucky helped chase them off. Almost like he had been in on it.”

“Lucky’s been with us for years.” Her lips tightened. “He’s the best ranch hand on the spread.”

I raised both hands. “Hey, as a detective, I gotta look at all possibilities.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe you should save your detective work for the city.” She pulled Hondo to a stop and spun him around. “Stay in this position,” she ordered. “It’s time to rotate anyway.” Hondo broke into a gallop, and she rode to the back of the herd.

I sighed and glanced up at Joe. He cringed when I caught his eye; I guess he had seen her ride off angry. It didn’t take any kind of brotherly telepathy for him to know that I had made Sarah Welch very mad.

F
OR THE NEXT COUPLE OF
hours, Sarah avoided the Hardy brothers like the plague. I only got to chat briefly with Frank during that time, but he confirmed my suspicions; Sarah wasn’t at all happy about us accusing Lucky.

“Let me talk to her,” I offered.

“No, just let it be,” Frank said. “I think she’s great, but she’s about to go off to college. It’s not like we can start dating or anything.”

I nodded. “But what about the mystery? We’re almost done with the drive, and we’re still nowhere on the case. The Hardys have a reputation to uphold, you know?”

“Yeah, I’ve been racking my brain about that,” he admitted. “It seems backward. We think we know who’s responsible, but we don’t know the motive.”

“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “I have complete and utter faith in our abilities.” I goaded Norman into a trot. “Besides, if this detective thing doesn’t work out, I’d make a pretty good cowboy.”

Frank shook his head as I rode to the next position in the drive.

We continued the rotation until I found myself riding alongside Sarah at the front of the herd. We rode quietly for a while as she continued giving me the silent treatment. Finally I steered Norman closer to her.

Sarah held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it, Joe. Let’s just get this herd home and be done.”

I shook my head. “Okay, forget we said anything about Lucky. Let’s talk about the cattle drive. Is there anything else we should watch out for?” I asked. “You think these guys will pull something else before we get to the ranch?”

Sarah seemed to ponder whether to respond. Finally she sighed. “I don’t see how. We’re almost there.” She pointed ahead. “Once we crest this hill, we ride down to one more gate. After that, we’re on the Double W proper. Another hour south and we’re at the ranch house.”

“No more possible obstacles?” I asked. “Any other way those guys can mess with us?”

Sarah thought for a moment. “Not that I can think of. But maybe I should scout ahead.”

I sat up in the saddle. “Ooh! Send me in, Coach!” I wanted the chance to ride out alone again. The drive was almost over, and I had no idea when I’d get another opportunity like this.

“Well, I guess I should stay and help get the herd through the last gate,” she said. “All right. You can’t miss the way there.”

“Got it!” I began to kick Norman, then stopped. “You know, Frank didn’t mean to offend you. He just wants to help you and your dad.” Before she could respond, I kicked Norman into a gallop.

I smiled. That’s right. I still had my brother’s back.

I rode over a large hill and spotted the fence below. I slowed Norman to a trot and kept my eyes open. I squinted, imagining that I was Clint Eastwood looking for trouble.

There was no mistaking the entrance to Wally Welch’s ranch. The large metal gate was adorned with two giant
W
s. Everything was quiet as I scanned the pockets of trees on the other side of the fence. It was a good place for an ambush.

I opened the gate, led Norman through, and latched it shut behind me. Then I climbed back onto the horse and listened. All was quiet. I could just make out the sound of the cattle drive behind me.

I continued down the wide path through scattered trees and open pastures. Sarah had said it was an hour’s ride to the main ranch house. She probably meant it was an hour going as slowly as the herd traveled. I kicked Norman into a gentle lope so I would get there sooner.

I grinned as I contemplated our weekend. Growing up in Bayport, I’d never had a chance to play cowboy. Learning to ride at summer camp didn’t count. But here I was, riding a real horse on a real cattle drive. I got to experience a water crossing and a stampede, and I’d fought off cattle rustlers. Even if they were just dudes on dirt bikes, it was still exciting. Thanks to the pranksters, the cattle drive had lasted even longer.

Maybe that was it. What if delaying the cattle drive was the hidden motivation behind the sabotage? It was the only explanation that fit all the clues. What if the would-be horse thieves never intended to stop the cattle drive or steal anything? Every nefarious act had succeeded in only one thing: slowing us down. The cattle drive was supposed to be over before noon on Sunday. Now it was late afternoon. What if the true crime was happening right now at the ranch? What if Mike and Tim had just wanted to keep everyone away?

I kicked Norman’s sides, and he broke into a full run. I had to get to the ranch and see if my hunch was correct.

I galloped across open pastures, over rolling hills, and around groves of trees, concentrating on keeping Norman on the path.

I crested a hill and pulled to a stop when I saw the WW homestead below. Nestled among large trees, the white farmhouse had a wide porch. A small chicken coop sat nearby, with chickens pecking inside a closed pen. Farther away, a long brown building must have been a bunkhouse for the ranch hands; it looked just like the ones in movies. And to top off the view, there was a red barn surrounded by wooden corrals and cattle pens.

I’d never been there before, so I wouldn’t know if anything was out of place, but it all looked perfectly normal. Maybe I had rushed all the way there for nothing.

Just then I heard a sound from the west and spotted movement out of the corner of my eye. In the distance, two men on horseback galloped away. Nothing more than specks on the horizon, they rode up a small hill before disappearing from sight.

Was that Mike and Tim? Had they heard my loud approach and made a break for it?

I had almost decided to trail them when I spotted a thin tendril of smoke drifting up from the barn. Any western fan knows that barns don’t have fireplaces or stoves; fire and hay don’t mix. As the seconds ticked by, the smoke grew thicker.

“Oh no,” I muttered.

I kicked Norman’s sides once again, and we sped down the hill, toward the burning barn.

W
ELCOME TO THE DOUBLE W
ranch!” Wally said as we drove the last of the cattle through the gate. He stood in the chuck wagon as I closed the gate behind everyone. The riders gathered in front of the wagon as the cattle moved by.

Wally raised a hand. “Now, I know we’re running late and we were supposed to end with a fine lunch down at the ranch house. But don’t worry. We’ll have a
dinner
instead before shuttling you back to Bayport. A nice barbecue.” He tipped his hat back on his head. “We have about another hour to go, but as you can see, it’s going to be an easy one.” He pointed to the moving herd. They walked ahead of us down the wide path. They clearly knew the way and seemed eager to return home.

Wally continued, “I want to thank you all for a job well done. Even though we had a few hiccups along the way, I hope you had fun.”

“Let’s take ’em home!” Sarah shouted.

Wally got the wagon moving down the trail as we were given our assignments: Lucky and Mr. and Mrs. Mueller on one side, Ned and Mr. Jackson on the other side, and Dusty riding drag. I hadn’t seen Joe in a while, so I assumed Sarah had him scout ahead before we hit the gate. He had told me how much fun he’d had scouting the dam. I was sure he was cramming in as much cowboy fun as possible before the weekend ended. I was surprised when Sarah finished the assignments by having me ride lead with her.

We rode a few paces ahead of the herd, keeping our horses at a trot since the cattle were moving faster.

“Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Sarah said. “Joe mentioned that you just had my best interests in mind.”

I had told my brother not to say anything, but whatever he had said to Sarah seemed to have smoothed things out.

“He’s right,” I said. “We were just trying to figure out why these things were happening. It’s hard to solve a mystery when you don’t have a motive.”

“I don’t know much about solving mysteries,” she admitted. “I just know Lucky wouldn’t do anything to hurt the ranch or us.”

“Fair enough,” I replied. I still had my doubts about the cowhand, but there was no point in pushing it with Sarah.

“Maybe there isn’t a motive,” she suggested. “Maybe these really were just stupid pranks meant to get back at my dad.”

“Well, getting back at your dad
would
be a motive,” I said. “It just seems like a weak one for all the trouble these guys have gone through. That’s what doesn’t make sense to us.”

“I see your point.” She paused. “It’s not very good revenge, if you ask me. All that stuff just slowed us down a little.” She grinned. “And the stampede was exciting.”