Chapter 5 The Secret at Shadow Ranch by Carolyn Keene
Desperado’s Gift
Thinking quickly, Nancy jumped aside and toppled the tower of baskets into the thief’s path. With a cry he stumbled among them and pitched forward, the bag of loot flying from his hand.
“Help!” shouted Nancy as she ran into the street and picked up the paper bag. “Sheriff!”
The man scrambled to his feet, and kicking the baskets aside, darted into a narrow passage between two stores.
At the same time, a young Indian girl and a man ran from the coffee shop next door.
“What happened?” cried the girl. “I’m Mary Deer.” Quickly Nancy told her about the thief. “My shop—robbed!” she exclaimed.
“Almost robbed,” said Nancy, smiling and handing over the brown paper bag. As the girl thanked her warmly, George, Dave, Sheriff Curtis, and a few merchants ran up. Nancy repeated her story rapidly and described the thief. “He wore a black kerchief over his nose and mouth, was in shirt sleeves, and had on dark trousers.”
As the men dashed into the passage where he had vanished, Nancy turned to the Indian girl. She was wearing a vivid red beaded dress and had a glossy black braid over each shoulder. Nancy introduced herself and George.
Gratefully Mary Deer said, “You were wonderful to get this back for me, Nancy. I would like to give you a reward.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m glad I could help.”
Mary Deer invited the girls into the shop, which was cool and smelled of leather goods. To one side stood a long glass case containing shelves of jewelry. One front panel was open and a shelf was empty.
“There’s no lock on the case,” Mary explained. “I guess I shouldn’t have left the shop open, but I never expect customers this early.” Then she added, “Where are you from? You don’t sound like a Westerner.”
Nancy explained that she was a visitor at Shadow Ranch.
The Indian girl smiled. “Then I have the perfect reward for you.” She reached into the paper bag and took out a small gold object. It was a lady’s old-fashioned watch on a fleur-de-lis pin.
“How beautifull” Nancy exclaimed. “But I can’t accept it. Surely you can sell the watch.”
Mary Deer shook her head. “This is not for sale. I had it on display in my antique jewelry case. Since you are from Shadow Ranch, it shall be yours.”
“But what has the ranch to do with it?” Nancy asked, curious.
The Indian girl explained that the watch had been a gift to Frances Humber from her outlaw sweetheart. “Here is his initial,” she said, and pointed to a “V” and the date, June, 1880, inscribed on the back lid. Then she turned the watch over and showed Nancy a heart inscribed on the front. “That was Valentine’s symbol,” said Mary Deer. “Legend says he used it on personal belongings like his belt buckle and rings—even the brand on his horse was a heart.”
“He sounds like a romantic man,” remarked Nancy.
Mary agreed. “He left Frances a treasure,” she went on, “but she never received it.”
“A treasure?” Nancy said. “What was it?”
Mary shrugged. “Valentine’s will merely stated that his personal fortune was to go to Frances and her heirs. The will did not tell where or what the treasure was. Some believe it was hidden on Shadow Ranch.”
Nancy’s heart leaped with excitement. Maybe this could explain the sabotage at the ranch! “Someone wants to force the Rawleys off the property in order to search for the treasure,” she thought.
“Do many people know about this?” George asked.
“Nearly everybody around here has heard Valentine’s story, except the part about the treasure being hidden on the ranch, which is something that only a few old-timers believed.” Mary shook her head. “I doubt that the present owners of Shadow Ranch have ever heard about it.”
Carefully Nancy examined the gold watch. Perhaps there was a clue to the treasure in it! She pressed her nail against the edge and opened the lid, revealing the worn face of the watch.
“It still works,” said Mary. “The back lid opens, too.”
Nancy was disappointed to find that there was no picture or inscription inside either place.
“Where did you get the watch?” she asked.
“It was in a box of things I bought at an auction,” the Indian girl replied. She explained that the items had belonged to an old resident of Tumbleweed, Miss Melody Phillips, who had been a girlhood friend of Frances Humber. “She died in the East, and her parents, who still lived on the ranch, gave these mementos to Miss Melody. I know this history because it was written on the cover of the box.”
“Do you still have that?” Nancy asked eagerly.
The Indian girl shook her head regretfully. “I threw the box and the other items away since they were worthless. You must take the watch, Nancy,” she added earnestly. “Please.”
Not wanting to hurt the girl’s feelings, Nancy consented. As she was thanking her, Dave strode into the store. He reported that the thief had not been caught. “Sheriff says he’ll keep an eye out for him, Mary.”
“That’s good,” the young shop owner said, then showed Dave the watch. “I’m giving this to Nancy,” she added, and repeated the history of the timepiece.
Dave seemed to be interested and examined the watch
closely. When he returned it, Mary pinned it shyly to Nancy’s blouse.
As the girls were leaving the shop with Dave, Nancy noticed a small pastel drawing propped up on the counter. “What a beautiful scenel” she remarked.
Mary said it was the work of an artist who lived on Shadow Mountain. Struck by the lovely Western landscape, Nancy bought the picture.
When the group walked outside, Nancy saw a tall man in black jacket and pants seated on the bench under the cottonwood tree. He wore a black ten-gallon hat, and his light-brown eyes followed Nancy as she passed him. It seemed to her that his gaze was fastened on the watch. Could he be the frustrated thief?
“He might have left his coat and hat somewhere,” Nancy reasoned, “and put them on again after his escape. But why should he be interested in the watch, unless he’s after the Humber treasure and hoped to find a clue in it?”
As Dave drove out of town, Nancy saw the tall stranger staring after them. “The name of the ranch is on the side of the truck,” she thought uneasily. “If that man is after this watch, he’ll know just where to find me!”
Halfway to the ranch, the girls pointed out Indian cliff dwellings high on the mountain slope. Nancy asked if this was the area once owned by the Humbers and Dave nodded.
“Good place to look for curios like pieces of pottery,” George remarked.
“You girls stay away from there!” he advised sharply. When Nancy asked why, Dave explained that the stairs leading up from the valley floor were worn and broken. “Very dangerous,” he said.
When they reached the ranch, Dave parked the truck at the stable. The girls heard laughter coming from the corral and saw Tex Britten perched on the fence. Bess was mounted on a brown quarter horse and holding a coiled lariat.
“Watch me!” she called. “I’m learning to rope a steer.”
Nancy and George walked over and saw Bud Moore put his hands on his head like horns and prance in front of Bess’s horse. “Come on and rope me, pardner!” he said.
“Come and rope me, pardner!” Bud challenged Bess
Bess frowned, bit her lip, and managed to get a noose twirling. Then plop—it dropped over the head of her own horse!
Tex gave a piercing whistle. George and Nancy burst into laughter while the “steer” helped blushing Bess to dismount.
“Never mind,” said Nancy. “You didn’t want to be a cowboy, anyway!”
As the boys called joking remarks about the next roping lesson, the girls walked off together. At the house Nancy told Bess, Aunt Bet, and Alice all that had happened in town. She showed the watch and related its history.
“Shorty Steele is the one who told us the legend of the phantom horse,” said Aunt Bet, “but he never mentioned the treasure. Maybe he doesn’t know that part of the story.”
“Or perhaps he kept it to himself,” Nancy thought. Aloud she said, “Would it be all right if we hunt for the treasure?”
“By all means.”
While the others were examining the old-fashioned watch, Nancy took the pastel picture from her bag and propped it on the living-room table.
Alice saw it and turned pale. “Nancy! Where did you get this?”
As Nancy explained, Alice picked up the painting. “My father did this—I’m sure of it!” She told them that Ross Regor was an amateur artist and always carried a small case of pastels with him. Whenever he had a few leisure minutes he devoted the time to sketching and Alice was positive she could recognize his work.
“We must find the artist,” she said. “I just know he’s my father!”
The others could not help feeling that Alice was clutching at straws. Nevertheless, Aunt Bet offered to take her young niece to town the next morning to question Mary Deer.
That night after supper Nancy slipped into a heavy jacket, took a flashlight, and went for a walk alone. She made her way past the stable, chicken coops, and corral to the edge of the big meadow. As she stood thinking, the wind whistled down the valley and tossed the treetops. Chief came padding over from the stable and nuzzled her hand.
Nancy turned and looked back. There was a light shining through a crack in the spring-house wall! “Who’d be there now?” she wondered.
As she hurried to investigate, one foot stepped on a large twig. Crack! In a moment the light went out!
Her sleuthing instincts aroused, Nancy tiptoed to the door, pulled it open, and shone her light inside. Empty!
A shiver ran up Nancy’s spine. It was impossible!
She walked away slowly, puzzling over the incident. Suddenly a long weird whistle sounded in the direction of the meadow. From among the bordering trees—as if in response to the whistle—galloped a white, filmy horse! The phantom!