Chapter 8 The Secret at Shadow Ranch by Carolyn Keene
Escaped Dog
Nancy lurched against the balustrade. Trying to catch her balance, she grabbed the rail. With a loud crash the whole framework broke and she plunged through to the floor below! Stunned, Nancy hardly noticed that the roar of the rockslide had subsided and the old building had come to a shuddering halt. After a while she became aware of voices calling.
“Nancy! Nancy, are you in there?” came Bess’s frantic voice.
“I see her!” George’s deeper tones were coming closer. As Nancy managed to sit up, she saw that the floor now slanted steeply downhill, and her friends were crawling up toward her.
“Oh, Nancy, are you all right?” Bess asked anxiously.
Nancy managed a shaky smile. “I think I’m just bruised. Now that I’ve caught my breath, I’ll be fine.”
George and Bess helped her to her knees.
“We’ll have to crawl down,” said George. “And the sooner the better. This building might start to slide again.”
Nancy and her friends held their breaths and gingerly crawled backward down the slanting floor to the door. The sill was now almost waist-high. As they climbed out, Nancy saw that the building had slipped down to the road.
Alice, carrying a coil of rope, came hurrying up to them. “Oh, Nancy, thank goodness you’re all right!” she exclaimed. She explained that George had sent her back to the horses for the rope in case they needed it.
Nancy looked uneasily up at the rocky slope behind the wrecked house. She squinted her eyes against the glare of the sun but could detect nothing moving.
“What do you think caused the rockslide?” George asked.
Nancy told the girls of having seen the man in the black hat. “Maybe he started a boulder rolling,” she suggested.
“On purpose?” Bess asked, horrified.
“Perhaps,” said Nancy. “I have a feeling it’s the same man George and I saw in Tumbleweed. If he’s after Valentine’s treasure, this is one more move to scare us off the ranch.”
George reminded her that no doubt there were other men in the county with large black hats.
“I know,” Nancy admitted. She wondered whether the man had followed them there or had been disturbed by their coming.
The other girls said that so far they had found no signs of anyone living in the abandoned village. At Nancy’s suggestion they started down the street, and without entering, looked into the few buildings that they had not already checked.
All the while Bess kept glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone were following them. When they reached the end of the street, she and George peered into a tumble-down blacksmith’s shop.
Suddenly there was a rustling noise. Bess jumped back and squealed as something scurried past her.
“Really, Bess,” George said in disgust, “you’re hopeless. That was only a pack rat.”
Bess blushed. “I can’t help it. I keep expecting the man in black to jump out at us.”
Nancy spoke up. “I think Bess has a point We’d better get out of here. If the man is still around he just might cause another rockslide.”
In a few minutes the girls had mounted their horses and were riding out of town.
“Are we going straight to the cabin now?” Alice asked anxiously. “Perhaps the men we saw were on their way to it.”
“Yes,” said Nancy. As soon as they were clear of the dilapidated buildings she reined in and studied the map Aunt Bet had given her. After consulting the compass, she led the girls around the back of Shadow Mountain on a narrow trail. Now and then they passed a tall, creamy yucca flower in bloom or startled a bird from a thicket of chaparral. But they saw no other living creatures.
Near noon the riders reached a level place where a cluster of high rocks cast shade over a shallow stream. Here they dismounted, watered their horses, and ate lunch. An hour later the girls were in the saddle again and presently rounded a rock outcrop. They found themselves looking up at a small cabin set among the rocks some distance from them. As the horses climbed toward it, their iron shoes rang against the rock and some of the loose stones clattered down the hill behind them. Suddenly a dog began to bark, then stopped.
“That sounded like Chief!” Bess exclaimed.
While still some distance from the cabin, the riders dismounted.
“Bess and Alice, will you stay with the horses?” Nancy requested. “George and I will take a look around.”
The two girls walked stealthily up the hill and started to circle the cabin. They found that the rear wall was close to the side of the mountain and heavily overgrown with brush and small fern. There was an open window in the back wall, but a heavy burlap sack was hanging across it so the girls could not see inside. They stood still for a moment and listened, but no sound came from within. Quietly they completed the circle and returned to the others.
“The door’s open a little bit,” Bess said softly. “Do you think anybody’s inside?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Nancy said with determination. “I’ll go and knock.”
As she started up the hill, the barking started again. The next instant, from behind the cabin, bounded a large black German shepherd.
“Chief!” the girls exclaimed.
The dog greeted them with frenzied barking and tail wagging. A short piece of rope hung from his collar. On his head was a swelling and broken skin.
“You poor old fellow!” said Nancy. She knelt beside the dog and calmed him, then carefully felt around the wound. “Someone knocked him out and has been holding him!” she said.
“But why?” asked Bess, keeping a wary eye on the cabin.
“Maybe because he got too close to the phantom horse,” Nancy replied.
George looked puzzled. “What difference would that make? Chief can’t talk.”
“But maybe there’s a clue on him—something to show how the trick was done,” Nancy replied. The big dog stood patiently as Nancy examined him, but she found nothing unusual.
Bess volunteered to stay with the horses and the dog while the other girls went to the cabin. The trio walked up to it and Nancy knocked on the doorframe. There was no answer. She knocked again, then pushed the door open cautiously.
The one-room cabin was empty, but plainly had been lived in. On the table stood two mugs and a coffeepot.
Alice darted forward with a cry. Beside the cups lay an unfinished drawing and a pastel crayon.
“My father! He’s been here!”
The mugs were half full of coffee. Nancy felt them. They were still warm.
“The artist and his companion have been here, all right,” Nancy agreed. “And they left just a short time ago.”
“Why would they do that?” George asked. “Unless they heard us coming and have some reason to hide.”
“My father’s being held prisoner,” Alice said positively. She glanced at the older girls and read their thoughts. “You think he’s connected with the phantom mystery because we found Chief here,” she accused.
Nancy tried to assure her this was not the case. “Your father is innocent, but someone else occupying this cabin may be connected with the Shadow Ranch mystery.”
Leaving the door slightly open as they had found it, the three hurried to report to Bess.
“The men may come back. Let’s wait here and see,” Nancy suggested.
The girls led their horses behind a clump of large boulders, out of sight of the cabin. Keeping Chief beside her, Nancy hid behind the screen of chaparral with the other girls and watched the cabin.
While they waited Nancy puzzled over the dog’s appearance. He had run from behind the cabin, yet minutes before she and George had passed between it and the mountain without seeing or hearing the animal. It occurred to Nancy that he might have been tied up some distance away and broken loose.
But why had he been held? There seemed to be no lead to the phantom on him. “Perhaps it was only because his captor is not averse to stealing a good dog.”
The afternoon wore on. It was hotter and increasingly cloudy. The men did not return.
Finally Nancy cast a worried look at the sky. “We must start back before it rains.”
Alice begged to stay, but the other girls knew this was not wise. Nancy promised her they would come again.
With Chief at the heels of Nancy’s horse, the girls started down the mountain, following a path which the River Heights visitors soon recognized as the trail they had been on the day before.
“So this path to the cabin is not impassable, after all,” said George, “as Shorty had claimed.”
Nancy remarked that the cowboy might have been mistaken, yet she admitted that his behavior certainly made him a strong suspect in the mystery.
As the girls rode along, the sun vanished and a chill wind set in. Suddenly a few large drops of rain splattered into the dust. The next moment a downpour descended.
The horses snorted. A vivid flash of lightning split a fir tree some distance up the mountain and the horses shied at the clap of thunder.
“Sit tight!” Nancy called over her shoulder, “and keep moving.”
Moment by moment, the cloudburst worsened and the trail gradually became slippery mud. Far below in the valley they could see the sunlit meadow, untouched by the storm.
“I hope we make it,” Bess said fearfully.
Suddenly Nancy had a chilling thought. They still had to negotiate the stream which they had crossed the previous day. And Bess’s mount was not a river horse! She dare not urge her own mount faster, for the animal was picking his footing carefully. Yet, with each precious minute, she knew that the stream was rising.
When they reached its bank the four girls gazed in consternation at the rushing water.
“We can’t cross that!” Bess wailed.
Nancy said the only alternative was to stay all night on the mountain. “And we’re not equipped to do that. It’s too risky. Come on, Bess. We can make it if we hurry!”
As she spoke, Chief whined and put his paw into her stirrup.
“He’s begging for a ride,” George said.
The dog leaped to a large rock beside the water and Nancy pulled up close to him. With her help Chief squeezed onto the front of the saddle and Nancy held him there.
“All right, boy,” she whispered to him. “Here we go!”
She gathered the reins firmly and guided her horse into the water. The big animal did not fight the current, but swam along easily with it, heading gradually for the opposite bank. Before long, he found footing. As he clambered safely ashore, Chief jumped off and Nancy turned in the saddle to see how the others were faring.
One by one the big, dependable river horses made the crossing safely, but Bess, on Choo-Choo, was last. Would he behave? The animal entered the stream and walked until the water swirled around his shoulders. Then he stopped.
“If he doesn’t swim he’ll be swept away!” George exclaimed.
“Help!” called Bess. “He won’t move!”
With the torrent rising fast, Nancy spurred her mount along the bank until she was some distance above Bess. Then she guided her horse into the turbulent water.
“Hold on, Bess! We’re coming!”
Suddenly, a few yards upstream, part of the muddy bank collapsed, sending a huge surge of water sweeping over Nancy and her horse!