The Mystery of the Headless Horse (4 page)

The rain slowed to a drizzle Sunday morning. Diego borrowed a bike and a raincoat from the family of Emiliano Paz and rode into town. He met Jupiter in front of the Historical Society around noon.

“Bob’s covering the library,” Jupiter explained, “and Pete’s dad got him special permission to look at the maps in the County Land Office.”

“We’ll find Condor Castle,” Diego exclaimed. “I know it!”

They hurried into the Historical Society. People were already reading and studying at the tables of the hushed, book-lined rooms, and the assistant historian was busy. But as he directed the boys to the map room, he remarked:

“Someone else was in to look at the Alvaro papers. A tall, thin boy. He seemed to be concerned with what papers you had copied, Jupiter. Of course, I didn’t tell him.”

“Skinny!” Jupiter exclaimed when he and Diego were out of earshot. “He’s really worried about what we’re doing.”

“Because he knows all the valuable things you’ve found on other cases,” Diego said, “and he’s afraid you’ll find a treasure for us.”

“I hope we do,” Jupiter said, “but we don’t have much time.”

In the map room, the boys were alone. They found almost fifty maps from around 1846, some of the whole county, and some of just the Rocky Beach area. They didn’t find Condor Castle.

“Here’s a map of just the Alvaro ranch,” Jupiter said.

“Look how big it was then,” Diego said sadly.

“But still no Condor Castle!”

“And that’s all the maps from Don Sebastián’s time.”

“All right,” Jupiter said, refusing to give up, “we’ll look at every map of Rocky Beach no matter how new!”

“Or old!” Diego said.

There weren’t very many modern maps, and only a few from before the 1840s. Condor Castle appeared on none of them. There was nothing for Diego and Jupiter to do but give up and go back to Headquarters in the salvage yard.

“Maybe Bob or Pete will find something,” Jupiter said hopefully.

He led Diego into Headquarters by the main entrance — a large pipe that went under a huge mound of junk and ended at a trap-door in the floor of the hidden mobile home trailer.

“We call this Tunnel Two,” the stocky leader of the Investigators explained as he and Diego crawled through the pipe. “We’ve got other entrances, too, but we use this one the most. The others are for emergencies.”

“Gee!” Diego exclaimed as he emerged through the trap-door into the hidden trailer. He stared around at the desk, telephone, typewriter, files, electronic equipment, dark-room, bird-cages, plaster statues, and all the other tools and souvenirs the boys had collected in their work.

“This is great!”

“I believe we are very adequately equipped,” Jupiter said a little pompously. “We built or gathered all of it ourselves.”

“No wonder you solve tough mysteries so easily!”

“Not always so easily,” Jupiter said glumly. “Finding any clues to the Cone’s Sword seems extremely difficult.”

“Bob or Pete will find something,” Diego assured him.

As they waited impatiently, Diego wandered around the secret headquarters examining everything. He couldn’t see outside because the junk hiding the trailer was piled against its tiny windows. Jupiter sat frowning, his round face not unlike the gloomy bust of Alfred Hitchcock on the filing cabinet behind him. Then the trap-door opened, and Bob came in.

“Nothing!” the Records and Research man said, and dropped into a chair looking as gloomy as Jupiter. “I looked at every book about the county that the library has.”

When Pete finally emerged through the trap-door, the others only had to look at his face.

“If Condor Castle means anything, fellows,” the tall Second Investigator said, “I guess only Don Sebastián and José knew what.”

“We’re at a dead end, First,” Bob concluded.

Diego was near tears. “Don’t give up, fellows! We — ”

Pete sat up alertly. “Shh! Listen!”

For a long moment there was only silence inside the hidden trailer. Then everyone heard it — a faint rattle of metal outside in the salvage yard. It came again, from a slightly different spot, and then there was a sound of tapping.

“Shhhh,” Jupiter whispered, his finger on his lips.

The rattle came again — from still another spot.

“Someone is out there moving and testing the junk,” Bob said softly. “Someone who thinks we’re in here!”

“Did anyone follow either of you?” Jupiter asked quietly.

“Not me,” Bob whispered.

“I… I’m not sure,” Pete said. “I was in a hurry, I didn’t check.”

“No one moves or speaks,” Jupiter ordered.

The poking and tapping among the piles of junk that covered the trailer went on for some minutes. Then there was silence.

“Take a look, Bob,” Jupiter whispered.

The Records and Research man stepped softly to the See-All, a homemade periscope that went up through the roof. From outside, it looked like a simple piece of old pipe sticking up at the top of a junk mound. Bob looked through the eyepiece.

“He’s going away across the yard,” Bob reported. “It’s that ranch manager, Cody! He’s still looking around. Now he’s leaving the salvage yard. He’s gone, fellows!”

Bob turned from the See-All. “He must have followed one of us to see what we’re doing. Jupe, could he have been the eavesdropper at Emiliano Paz’s place yesterday?”

“I suspect as much,” Jupiter said thoughtfully. “Skinny and that Cody seem very interested in our actions. I wonder if they have any more reason than to help Mr. Norris get the Alvaro ranch?”

“Maybe they know something about the sword and want to find it for themselves!” Diego exclaimed.

“That is possible, Diego.”

“If they know anything, it’s more than we do,” Pete said.

Jupiter nodded sadly. “I was certain we would find an old map that would tell us what and where Condor Castle was.”

“Maybe we need an old Indian map, and an old Indian to read it for us.” Pete laughed.

“Very funny, Second,” Bob groaned. “Jokes won’t help us — ”

“Pete!” Jupiter cried. “I think you’ve got it!”

“Gosh, First, it wasn’t that bad a joke. You don’t have to — ”

“No,” Jupiter said, “I mean it! That could be the answer! Of course, I’ve been stupid!”

“What answer, First?” Pete said, confused.

“A really old map! If Don Sebastián had used a name everyone could find on a map in 1846, the Americans would have spotted it! He knew they would study the letter — so he used a name from a map so old and rare even in 1846 only he and José would recognize it! I never thought to ask the historian for really old maps — and they’d be too valuable just to leave out in the map room. Come on! Back to the Historical Society!”

They scrambled out through Tunnel Two, checking carefully at the end of the pipe to be sure that Cody, or anyone else, wasn’t watching. Jupiter led the race to their bikes.

As the boys rode out of the salvage yard, a voice boomed across the street:

“JUPITER!”

Aunt Mathilda was standing on the stoop of the Jones house looking angry.

“Where have you been, you scamp! Have you forgotten your great-uncle Matthew’s birthday party? We have to leave in fifteen minutes! Get over here and put on your good suit! You’ll have to see your friends another time.”

“Oh, no!” groaned Jupe. “I forgot! It’s my great-uncle’s eightieth birthday,” he explained to his friends. “There’s a family party for him clear on the other side of Los Angeles. I can’t get out of going, and I’m sure we won’t be back until very late. You’ll have to carry on without me.”

“Jupiter!” Aunt Mathilda’s voice held an ominous warning note.

Jupe sadly waved goodbye to the other boys and went across the street.

“Now what?” asked Pete.

“To the Historical Society, of course,” answered Bob, taking charge. And in a minute, the boys had forgotten all about Jupiter as their excitement over Condor Castle rose again.

When the assistant librarian heard the boys’ latest request, he thought a moment. “A really early map of this area?” he said. “Yes, we do have one in our rare documents collection. One of the very first, from 1790. It’s so delicate we rarely bring it out into the light and show it.”

“Please, sir,” Bob urged, “may we look at it?”

The historian hesitated, and then nodded. He led them to the back where he unlocked a door. They all went into a windowless room which had its temperature and humidity kept at a constant level. All the documents were in glass cases or on shelves behind glass doors. The historian checked his files, then unlocked a drawer and drew out a long, flat glass case. Inside the case was a crude old map drawn in brown lines on thick, yellowed paper.

“Just look at it through the glass, please,” the historian said.

The boys bent over the ancient map of the Rocky Beach area.

“There,” Diego pointed in awe. “In Spanish: Condor Castle!”

“It’s there!” Bob exulted.

“Right on the Alvaro rancho, if that squiggly line is supposed to be Santa Inez Creek,” Diego said.

“What are we waiting for?” Pete cried.

The boys thanked the astonished historian, and ran out to their bikes.

The rain had stopped, but dark clouds still swept low over the mountains as the two Investigators and Diego rode along the dirt road of the Alvaro ranch. They were headed towards the old dam where they had battled the brush fire. As the road curved in alongside the dry arroyo and the ridge before the dam, Diego stopped.

“If I read the map right, Condor Castle is the rock peak at the end of this last ridge,” the slim boy said. “Santa Inez Creek is just on the other side of it.”

They left their bikes hidden in the brush beside the road, and pushed through the heavy chaparral to the edge of the deep arroyo. The dam was out of sight to their left, beyond the low, brush-covered mound that closed off the arroyo.

The boys looked across the arroyo and up at the top of the high ridge. At the left end of it, just before the ridge dropped sharply off to the low mound, the tall rock peak jutted up.

“That must be it!” Diego said again. “Right where the map showed it.”

“What’s it called now?” Pete asked as they scrambled down into the muddy arroyo and started up the ridge on the far side.

“Nothing, as far as I know,” Diego said.

The high ridge sloped in two sections: the lower two-thirds was a gentle slope covered with big boulders and brush; and the upper one-third was steeper and almost all rock with no brush. The boys were puffing when they climbed the last third and stood on top of the giant rock that crowned the long ridge.

“Condor Castle,” Bob said, awestruck.

From the great rock the whole countryside was visible except to the north, where the mountains towered towards the sky. But before the mountains rose, the boys could see the dam and the creek beyond with the charred brush on both sides.

“The creek’s swollen above the dam,” Diego pointed out, “and the dam’s already spilling a little. We’ll have a real creek below if it keeps on raining.”

Bob pointed down to the low mound at the base of the ridge. “Look how that mound separates the arroyo from the creek and the dam,” he said. “If the mound weren’t there, you’d have a second creek.”

The boys turned around and studied the rest of the view. To the west, they could see the road and the deep arroyo that reached south to the ruins of the hacienda almost a mile away. Directly to the south, more ridges fanned out. Far beyond them, the boys could make out Rocky Beach itself and the ocean, dark in the grey day. To the east, on the other side of the high ridge, Santa Inez Creek curved to the south-east. A trickle of water showed in it now. Across the creek bed, the fiat brush-land spread out, and they could see the Norris ranch houses and corrals a mile or so away. The road through the Norris ranch came up from the south to the dam and then disappeared north into the mountains.

“I wonder why they called this spot Condor Castle,” Pete said. “I don’t see any condors.”

“Just as well,” said Bob with a chuckle. “A condor is a kind of vulture!”

“Maybe,” guessed Diego, “the name comes from the bird’s-eye view up here.”

“Probably,” said Bob. “But let’s not worry about the name. We’re here to look for the Cortés Sword! Where do you think Don Sebastián hid it?”

“There must be a hiding place up here,” answered Pete. “A hollow somewhere, a crack in the rock, maybe even a cave. Let’s search, fellows!”

They spread out over the whole top of the rock, but quickly saw there wasn’t a hollow or crevice in it. The top was almost as smooth as marble. They stamped on every inch of it, and felt along the sheer sides as far down as they could reach. The rock was completely solid.

“Nobody hid anything in this rock!” said Pete. “Let’s try below it, on the sides of the ridge.”

Bob nodded. “Okay, Pete, why don’t you take the creek side, and Diego and I will go down the arroyo side.”

The boys scrambled off the peak and began to search again. Above the now trickling creek, Pete worked his way down the slope, making wider and wider sweeps. He found some loose boulders, but no cracks or hollows, no safe place to hide a sword.

Finally Pete gave up and walked around the north end of the ridge to find the others. Bob and Diego were almost finished searching on their side.

“There just isn’t any hole or crack to hide anything in, Second,” Bob complained.

Diego added, “Maybe Don Sebastián buried the sword.”

“Don’t say that!” Pete groaned. “We’d have to dig up the whole ridge. It’d take us forever!”

“I don’t think Don Sebastián buried it, Diego,” Bob said slowly. “If Jupiter’s theory is right — if Don Sebastián escaped successfully and went to hide the sword — he didn’t have a lot of time to work in. Put yourself in his place. He knew he was in danger and might not come back to dig up the sword himself, he knew that José might not return for years, and he knew that Sergeant Brewster and his pals were probably close behind him. If he buried the sword, he’d have to mark the spot clearly for José, or else the sword might never be found. But if he did mark the spot, Sergeant Brewster could see the sign, too, and guess what it meant.”

Bob shook his head. “No, I’m sure Don Sebastián wouldn’t have buried the sword. He would have hidden it somewhere near Condor Castle — someplace that José would be sure to think of. A place he wouldn’t have to take time to get ready, and wouldn’t have to mark.”

“But,” Pete said, looking all around, “where?”

“Well, we’re pretty sure the sword isn’t on this high ridge by Condor Castle,” said Bob. “So think of the rock as only a landmark, a clue to the general area. There must have been someplace nearby that Don Sebastián and José often went to, Diego, is there anywhere — ”

“The dam, maybe?” Diego suggested. “It was here then.”

“The dam?” Bob said. “Why not?”

Diego led them along the side of the ridge and across the low mound at its end. The mound ran up to the left corner of the dam. Water was spilling over the dam’s centre gate in a narrow stream, falling thirty feet to the creek bed below. The boys scrambled down the mound and dropped into the creek bed, heedless of wet feet. They examined the whole face of the dam as high as they could reach. It was built of hundreds — maybe thousands — of small boulders, fitted together and caulked with some kind of limestone mortar. There were no loose rocks, holes, or crevices.

“Solid as steel,” Pete said.

“My family had it built by local Indians almost two hundred years ago,” said Diego.

“Well, they sure didn’t leave any cracks to hide a sword in,” Bob said, “at least down here at the bottom. If there are cracks further up, you’d need a ladder to reach them, and Don Sebastián probably didn’t have a ladder. But let’s try the top.”

They scrambled back up the mound, sinking in where the ground was soft from the recent rain, and climbed up to the top of the dam. It was six feet thick at the top, made of the same fitted rocks. But here there were holes and crevices, and the boys split up to search. Half an hour later, they all gave up.

“If the sword is in the dam,” Pete said grimly, “we’ll have to tear the dam down to find it.”

“Don Sebastián didn’t have time to make a fancy hiding place,” Bob reminded him. “I think we can say the sword isn’t in the dam, which means we’re at a dead end. We’ll have to find a brand-new clue.”

“Where, Bob?” asked Pete. “We’ve been all through those army documents, and Don Sebastián wrote only that one letter around then.”

“He was an important man, and he must have had many friends in the area,” Bob said. “Perhaps he got help from someone, or perhaps people saw him that day. We need to find something that can tell us more about what he did, maybe even something he said.”

“Gee,” Diego said doubtfully, “it’s been so long.”

“Yes, but back in those days, without the telephone, people wrote more letters and put more news in them,” Bob pointed out. “And lots of people kept diaries and journals. Maybe there was even a newspaper here then. I bet we can find some good stuff at — ”

“I know,” Pete moaned. “Back at the Historical Society! Gosh, detective work sure can get boring!”

Bob laughed. “Well, most of the old papers are likely to be in Spanish, so you’ll be spared reading them, Pete! But we might as well wait till tomorrow, when Jupiter can help. Besides, I haven’t done any homework yet this weekend.”

Pete moaned again. He’d forgotten all about his homework.

The boys started across the top of the dam towards the road and their bikes. Just as they walked off the dam, Pete stopped and stood alertly.

“Diego?” the tall boy said, staring off to the right, “does someone on your ranch own four big, black dogs?”

“Dogs?” Diego said. “No, I — ”

“I see them, Second,” Bob said, his voice uneasy.

The four big black dogs were some distance away, above the reservoir and beyond the burned area on the Alvaro side of the creek. They were pacing wildly in front of some trees and thick brush, their red tongues lolling out and their eyes glittering.

“Wow,” Bob said nervously, “they sure look mean, and — ”

A shrill whistle seemed to sound from nowhere. Pete whirled, and pointed back across the dam.

“That’s a signal! Run for those trees across the dam!”

In the distance, the four dogs raced towards the dam with their teeth bared and red tongues dripping! The boys tumbled back over the dam, and pounded across the rocky ground towards a line of old oaks some fifty yards away.

“It’s… too… far!” Bob panted.

“We… we’ll… never… make it!” Diego gasped.

“Faster, guys!” Pete urged.

“Pete!” Diego cried as he looked back. “They’re swimming!”

In their violent pursuit of their quarry, the four dogs had plunged straight into the small reservoir instead of circling it by the faster route across the dam! They were swimming strongly, and were soon out and leaping after the fleeing boys. But the delay had been just enough!

The three boys reached the twisted live-oaks, clambered wildly up, and sat on the heavy branches looking down at the four leaping, snarling dogs.

They were trapped!