The blue-stone mystery (3 page)

Since the Trainors had ridden often at a riding academy near their home, they were soon used to the horses and the western saddles. After half an hour in the exercise ring. Chip's father spoke to Jose, who nodded and called Pedro. The Indian boy jumped onto a pony. Riding bareback, with only a halter on the horse, he led the Trainors out on one of several trails that radiated from the stable area.

"Would you like to ride to the saddle of the mountain up there, Mr. Trainor?" he asked. His speech was precise and it had an odd lilt to it. "There is a very good view from there."

"That sounds fine, Pedro," Chip's father answered. "Will we have time to get there and back by lunch time?"

"Si, seiior. I mean, sir." Pedro's Spanish and English often got mixed together.

The trail led upward through the forest. Pines whispered secrets over their heads. Bright sunlight, filtering through, warmed the brown pine needles underfoot, and the air was filled with a clean, spicy smell. The riders skirted thick clumps of mountain mahogany and scrub oak, from which dozens of little grey juncos flew as they passed. Chip and Karen laughed to see a fat porcupine waddle across the trail. The trees thinned as they neared the saddle,

The Blue-Stone Mystery

which was a connecting ridge between two mountain peaks. Pedro reached the summit and dismounted. The Trainors followed his example. They let the reins of their horses hang to the ground in front of the animals, which stood quietly, nibbling at clumps of grass.

"What a beautiful view!" Chip's mother exclaimed.

Behind them lay the dark forest, the mesas, and the Rio Grande Valley. They could just see the lodge chimney rising out of the trees. On either side of the riders was a steep mountain slope. But before them spread a tremendous valley, roughly circular in shape, set amid the surrounding peaks like a giant saucer. It was fringed with trees at the outer rim, but the whole middle section was a huge sea of grass.

"What is this, anyway?" Mr. Trainor asked. "I never saw a valley like this before."

"We call it The Bowl," Pedro answered. "My teachers say that it is the cone of a long ago volcano. Now it is used as summer grazing for the Double O cattle. There are really two Double O's — the guest ranch where you are staying, and the cattle ranch

A New Friend

up here in The Bowl. Mr. Blake, Mr. Allen s partner, is the cattle-ranch boss. See the herds down below." Pedro pointed toward a few clumps of black specks in the distance.

"Oh, those really are cows," Karen said, surprised. "I didn't notice them before. They certainly do look tiny from here."

"And so many!" Chip exclaimed. "There must be hundreds of them. How do they get here? Do cowboys drive them up the trails?"

"No," Pedro said, laughing. "The cattle are brought in as soon as the snow melts in the spring and are taken out again in the fall in big transport trucks. That is one of the main roads over there." He pointed to a narrow white ribbon winding through the vast valley. "There has been trouble this summer, though. Rustlers have been stealing some of the cattle — almost a hundred head already. Last night about twenty more. They are worth thousands of dollars."

"Rustlers!" Chip gasped, amazed. "I thought they were only in TV plays."

"Oh, no. There are always rustlers. But usually they do not try to steal animals so high in the moun-

The Blue-Stone Mystery

tains. It is too hard to get them out," Pedro explained.

"Then why haven't the rustlers been caught?" asked Karen.

"Yes," Mrs. Trainor said in a puzzled tone. "Surely the police can watch the roads and quickly find a loaded cattle truck. Don't ranches still brand their animals?"

"Si, senora." Pedro frowned, perplexed. "It is very peculiar. The cattle disappear from a far part of the range at night. You can see how big it is and how impossible to watch it all at the same time. There are always the same truck tracks on the nearest road, but no one ever sees the truck, nor can they find where it goes. All of the men have tried to learn the answer, but so far they have not been lucky. I have thought and thought, too," Pedro admitted with a rueful grin, "but I have not been lucky, either."

"No wonder Mr. Allen was so troubled this morning," Chip's father said. "Too bad there's nothing we can do to help. Well, we'd better be getting back or we'll be late for lunch."

Pedro stopped once on the ride down to show

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them a small herd of deer browsing in a shadowed glen. A big buck stood regally, his head lifted, his antlers catching the light, while a few does grazed quietly. Chip's pony tossed his head, and the harness jingled. Startled by the noise, the deer stood hesitantly for a moment, large eyes searching the forest. Then they bounded gracefully off into the shelter of the trees. The horseback riders sighed and continued on down the trail.

As Chip dismounted in the corral, he asked, "Dad, may Karen and I ride again this afternoon if Pedro goes with us?''

"It's all right with me if Pedro's father says it's okay. I think your mother wants to rest, and I'm going to try some fishing upstream from the ranch."

Clover greeted them noisily, and Chip turned her loose again. Pedro's father agreed to let his son accompany Chip and Karen on an afternoon ride. The youngsters parted to get cleaned up for lunch, after promising to meet at the stables in an hour.

"Look, there's Mr. Crowe coming out of the woods," Karen commented, as she and her brother walked toward the cabin.

The big man, wearing a red plaid shirt and a

The Blue-Stone Mystery

bright yellow hunting cap, stopped beneath a window of the lodge, stood still for a moment, and then bent to tie a bootlace. It seemed to take him a long time to get it fixed to his satisfaction. He glanced around, saw the children watching him, and frowned. Then he stood erect and hurried up the hill.

"It's funny about him," Karen said thoughtfully. "All of the people at the ranch here are either working or just enjoying themselves. He doesn't seem to fit in with either group. He's supposed to be on vacation, but he acts like he's working. Know what I mean? Just then it almost looked as though he were listening at the window, didn't it?"

Chip rubbed his hand over his head, mussing his fair hair. "Aw, it's just your imagination. Sometimes you sound crazy. You're a character." He gave her a friendly push. "Hey, you know what? I'm going to ask Pedro about that lost mine. He ought to know the country all around here. I bet he'll have lots of ideas about places to look. Say, what's the matter with you, Karen? You don't act interested at all."

Karen regarded him with affection and amusement. Her brother was always getting excited about

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something, and most of the time he had forgotten all about it by the next day.

"Gee, Chip," she said. "I guess it's just because I don't know how to look for lost mines. I wouldn't know one if I saw one. Would you?"

"Oh, I'm sure we'd recognize it all right." Chip was confident. "There'd be a hole of some kind — like a cave, I think — and the walls ought to be made of rock like that one Mr. Brownlee had. I'm going to try, anyway. Will you help?"

"Sure," his sister agreed. "I don't mind going along. I just don't think we'll find anything."

* chapter Four

A New Enemy

"A lost turquoise mine, Chip?" Pedro repeated Chip's question. '*Si, there is supposed to be one near here, but not where Mr. Crowe says it is.*'

"Really?" Karen asked. Maybe Chip was right to get excited this time. "Tell us about it, Pedro."

The three youngsters were slowly riding along beside the brook that flowed past the lodge farther downstream. A few minutes ear her they had passed

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Mr. Trainor, who was happily fishing in a ghstening riffle. It was a perfect day. A sHght breeze rustled the underbrush. The sky was an improbable blue. Billowy, white clouds drifted serenely overhead, so close to the mountains that Karen declared she could almost touch them.

"Let us sit in the shade here," Pedro suggested, "and I will tell you the story as it was told to me by my grandfather."

He tied his horse to a bush and sat on the grassy bank. Chip and Karen quickly joined him. They felt at ease with the Indian boy already. He had told them about the pueblo in the valley where he lived all winter. They, in turn, had described their life in a big city. Pedro had been amazed at their description of Lake Michigan. He had never seen that much water in his life. It was as hard for him to imagine the size of one of the Great Lakes or a large city as it was for the Trainor children to grasp the immensity of the mountain ranges spreading around them here at the ranch.

Now, sitting on the grass, Pedro told them the legend of the lost mine — the story that he had heard when he was a small child.

A New Enemy

"Once, many hundreds of years ago, our people lived in a big canyon on the plateau. They hollowed caves out of the soft rock of the cliffs, and there they lived in peace and contentment. Other tribes knew them by the turquoise ornaments they wore around their necks, arms and ankles, and called them 'the blue-stone people.' Only the wise leaders of our tribe knew where the turquoise was found. It was a secret from anyone else, even from their own families.

"Then a nearby tribe became jealous. They were angry because they did not have a good canyon with a stream that flowed even in the driest summer. The men were too lazy to hollow out large, dry caves; the women would not plant beans to eat when game was scarce. They, too, wanted the blue stones that meant to all Indians long life and immortality. So they made war on our people. And, since they were many and strong, they drove our ancestors from their canyon and forced them to find new homes in the valley. The conquering tribe tried to find the source of the blue good-luck stone, but the old men had hidden the mine well. The secret was never discovered, al-

The Blue-Stone Mystery

though the warhke people Hved in our canyon for many generations.

"Long afterward, a hundred years or more, the white men — the Spaniards — came. The tribe that took our canyon from us made war upon the Spanish soldiers also. The white men were victorious, and most of that tribe were killed. The rest ran away, and the canyon that had been our home was deserted.

"Quietly, a few of the old men of our pueblo went back to search for the lost turquoise mine. Centuries had passed, however, and there were many changes. Trees had died and small ones had grown large. Forest fires had left their mark. Earthquakes and landslides had shaken down walls of rock. Today the mine is still lost, although many have looked for it."

Pedro stopped. Karen and Chip were silent, thinking of the story that he had told them.

Then Pedro went on. "We do know one thing. The turquoise mine is somewhere in what is now our sacred Indian land. That is the land south of the Double O Ranch that the United States Congress has given to our pueblo because it contains our ancestral

A New Enemy

homes and many of our sacred shrines. No white man is supposed to go into that land without permission from the governor of our pueblo. Our own people seldom go there except for special religious ceremonies. It is a beautiful place — with fine canyons and good water — but it is a place of the dead.

"I, myself, do not like it, even though I go there with my father once a year to pay homage to the ancient people of our tribe. When I was younger and didn't understand, I used to enjoy playing in the many cave dewellings while my father was attending the ceremonies. But now the caves seem always waiting — for what I do not know. Perhaps for our return." He gazed thoughtfully at the stream. Then he shrugged apologetically and grinned at Chip and Karen.

"So, you see," he finished, "that is how I know that the lost mine is not where that man, Senor Crowe, says it is. He is talking through his yellow hat. He is trying to fool everyone, although I don't know why."

"How do you know he's fooling?" Chip asked. He did not like to give up his dream so easily. "Couldn't he have found a map for another mine?"

The Blue-Stone Mystery

"It is possible, I suppose," Pedro admitted. "But I don't think he did. Come. Maybe I can show you why I doubt it."

He mounted his horse quickly. When Chip and Karen were in their saddles, he led them along a path angling north. They left the forest, crossed a mesa, rode down into a canyon and across the mesa on the other side. Pedro explained that the word "mesa" was Spanish for table. As they approached the edge of the next canyon, Pedro suddenly stopped.

"Let's leave the horses here. Be quiet now."

The children dismounted. When all three animals were securely tied, Pedro led Chip and Karen to the thick brush growing near the rim of the canyon. "Don't talk," he whispered. "Crawl through the bushes here."

"What on earth ?" Chip began, but Pedro motioned for him to be silent.

The three youngsters edged their way on their stomachs under the branches until they could see down into the canyon. At this point the gravelly bank was quite low. It overhung a path curving close to the canyon wall. They heard voices and the rattle of boots on stone.