Mystery in Arizona Read online

  This is a reissue edition of a book that was originally published in 1958. While some words have been changed to regularize spelling within the book and between books in the series, the text has not been updated to reflect current attitudes and beliefs.

  Copyright © 1958, renewed 1986 by Random House, Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published by Golden Books, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, in 1958.

  www.randomhouse.com/kids

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Campbell, Julie, 1908–

  [Trixie Belden and mystery in Arizona]

  Mystery in Arizona / by Julie Campbell ; illustrated by Mary Stevens ;

  p. cm. — (Trixie Belden; #6)

  Originally published: Trixie Belden and mystery in Arizona. New York :

  Golden Books, 1958.

  SUMMARY: While spending Christmas break at an Arizona dude ranch, Trixie and the Bob-Whites work to solve several mysteries—a phony cowboy, disappearing staff, and puzzling cries in the night.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-80874-5

  [1. Dude ranches—Fiction. 2. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Stevens, Mary,

  ill. II. Koelsch, Michael. III. Title. IV. Series.

  PZ7.C1547Tr 2005 [Fic]—dc22 2003023216

  First Random House Edition

  RANDOM HOUSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  v3.1

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  1. An Invitation

  2. The Big Question

  3. All Aboard!

  4. A Doubtful Welcome

  5. Trixie Solves a Problem

  6. A Dark Stranger

  7. Trixie Is Suspicious

  8. Sobs in the Night

  9. Calamity Jane

  10. Petey’s “Day-Mare”

  11. More Mysteries

  12. “Madhouse!”

  13. Cowboys and Questions

  14. Lady Astorbilt

  15. Tenny Tells All

  16. In the Op’ry House

  17. Swing Your Partner!

  18. Petey Tries Again

  19. Dark Deductions

  20. Surprise for Mr. X

  21. A Dream Come True

  Chapter 1

  An Invitation

  Trixie clutched her short blond curls with both hands.

  “Never,” she said dolefully to her best friend, Honey Wheeler, “have I been so miserable in all the thirteen years of my life.”

  Honey’s wide hazel eyes were full of sympathy. “It can’t be as bad as that,” she said. “Just what did our guidance counselor tell your parents anyway?”

  “I don’t like to think about it,” Trixie moaned. They had met in the locker room of the school for a hurried conference between classes. Trixie had been longing to tell Honey the bad news ever since she had heard it the evening before, but it wasn’t something you could discuss over the phone. And she definitely had not felt like talking about it on a crowded school bus.

  The girls lived on Glen Road which was about two miles from the village of Sleepyside-on-Hudson, and they traveled to and from the junior-senior high school by bus. The Wheelers and Honey’s adopted brother, Jim Frayne, lived in the Manor House, a huge estate which included acres of rolling lawns and woodland, a big lake, and a stable of horses. It formed the western boundary of Crabapple Farm, the Beldens’ property. Honey’s luxurious home was indeed a mansion, but Trixie preferred the small white frame house where she lived with her three brothers and their parents.

  The boys and girls belonged to a secret society and called themselves the B.W.G.’s, short for Bob-Whites of the Glen. Trixie’s six-year-old brother Bobby was not a member, but Brian, aged sixteen, and Mart, who was eleven months older than Trixie, were treasurer and secretary respectively. Honey was vice president and Trixie and Jim were co-presidents.

  Another B.W.G. was thirteen-year-old Diana Lynch. She had entered junior high that fall with Honey and Trixie and was considered the prettiest girl in the eighth grade. She had huge violet eyes, and blue-black hair that flowed around her slim shoulders.

  Honey, who had earned her nickname because of her golden-brown hair, was almost as pretty as Di and got the best marks in the class. “Oh, please, Trixie,” she begged. “The bell will ring in a minute or two. What did Miss Jones tell your parents?”

  “It’s my marks.” Tears welled up into Trixie’s round blue eyes. “I’m not passing math and English. And it’s all your fault, Honey Wheeler. I would have spent more time studying if I hadn’t been having such fun up at your place skiing, sledding, and skating on the lake.”

  Honey smiled. “Cheer up, Trix. You’re awfully smart, really, so if you study hard you can bring your marks up before the midyears.”

  “That’s just it,” Trixie moaned. “That’s just what I’ll have to do: study like mad from now on. Oh, don’t you see, Honey? It means that if Di’s uncle does ask us to spend the Christmas holidays at his dude ranch, I won’t be able to go. I’ll have to stay home and bone like a regular old bookworm!”

  Honey gasped. “Not go to Arizona? Oh, Trixie! You’ll have to go. The rest of us wouldn’t have any fun without you.”

  The bell rang then and they hurried upstairs to join the boys and girls who were milling in the corridors. As miserable as she was, Trixie could still laugh at herself. It wasn’t really Honey’s fault, of course, and neither could she blame it on the weather. A cold snap during the Thanksgiving holidays had turned the Wheelers’ lake into a smooth sheet of ice; a week later a snowstorm had blanketed the hills and slopes making them ideal for skiing and tobogganing. Trixie had spent every minute she could out in the crisp, cold air, which meant that at night she was too tired and sleepy to study.

  So now, with the beginning of the Christmas holidays only a week away, she felt miserable instead of glad. Everyone else would be having fun while she was at home trying to figure out participles and fractions. Frowning, she followed Honey into class.

  And, she reflected as she slid into her seat, I have only myself to blame.

  “Don’t look so blue,” whispered Honey from across the aisle. “We may not go to Arizona after all.”

  But Trixie knew that they would go and leave her behind. A month ago when Di’s Uncle Monty had asked them to spend the holidays at his dude ranch it had seemed too good to be true. Then he verified the invitation in a letter to Di’s mother, who was his younger sister. But he hadn’t set any definite date and three weeks had elapsed, to the dismay of the Bob-Whites, without his mentioning the proposed visit.

  Only yesterday Di had said worriedly, “Maybe Uncle Monty has changed his mind. He seemed to want us when he was here last month but now I’m not so sure.”

  “A lot of things could have happened since his visit,” Honey had said. “Christmas is a very busy time at dude ranches, Di. Maybe your uncle hasn’t room for guests—nonpaying guests, I mean.”

  The Wheelers were very rich and before they bought the Manor House they had spent a lot of time traveling. One summer they had spent several weeks touring the whole state of Arizona in a trailer, so naturally Honey knew a lot about dude ranches. Trixie herself had done research on the subject for a theme on Arizona which she had written in the seventh grade, and the boys had apparently been born knowing a lot about western ranches.

  But Di obviously knew nothing. She stared at Honey in surprise and said, “I don’t think people who
live on Uncle Monty’s ranch pay him.”

  “The employees don’t,” Honey replied with a smile. “If we were cowboys we’d live in the bunkhouse and work for our room and board and earn some money, too. But since none of us knows how to rope a steer or brand a calf, we’ll belong to the dude part of the ranch. Even though we all ride very well, we’re still dudes—nonpaying dudes, in our case. I wouldn’t blame Mr. Wilson if he has changed his mind.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” Di protested. “Uncle Monty wouldn’t have invited us if he didn’t want us. Mother says his ranch is simply enormous so there must be plenty of room.”

  “Not necessarily,” Honey argued. “All the ranches out West are enormous. And an awful lot of people spend their Christmas holidays at the Tucson ranches. Since Mr. Wilson invited us, a lot of people who will pay very, very well may have made reservations. So now there may not be room for us.”

  “Well,” Di had said stubbornly, “I’ll be awfully disappointed if Mother doesn’t get a letter from Uncle Monty soon saying that he does want us.”

  That was yesterday, and today when the girls met in the cafeteria Di shook her head in answer to the question in Trixie’s eyes.

  “Not a word,” she said, “although Mother got a letter from him yesterday. He didn’t mention us or Christmas. What can be the matter?”

  They joined the line at the far end of the counter and Trixie said, “Well, I sort of hope you don’t go now.” And she explained.

  “Oh, what a shame, Trix,” Di said sympathetically. “I’m barely passing myself so I know how you feel. Did your parents come right out and say that you couldn’t go to Tucson with us? I mean, if we do go.”

  “Oh, Trix!” Honey breathed.

  Trixie shook her head. “Arizona didn’t come into it. But when Moms and Dad said they were so disappointed in me I felt simply awful; I right away promised to study like anything from now on so I can get good marks in the midyears.” She plunked the napkin roll of silverware onto her tray. “That means Arizona is out for this Belden, but definitely.”

  “I won’t go unless you go,” loyal Honey cried.

  Di nodded. “It wouldn’t be any fun without Trixie. She always gets us involved in mysteries and adventures.”

  “That’s right,” Honey agreed. “The boys feel the same way about her, so even if we do get invited nobody will want to accept.”

  Trixie couldn’t help laughing. “You two are a riot,” she said, “talking over my head just as though I were somewhere else. And don’t be silly. Of course you’ll go without me and have a grand time. I won’t mind being left behind,” she finished bravely, “because it’s my own fault.”

  They brought their laden trays to a large table which had just been vacated by a group of lofty seniors. Jim and Brian had jobs in the cafeteria kitchen and usually ate their lunch there. But Mart joined the girls in a few minutes. He quickly scanned their faces.

  “Any news?” he asked Di hopefully.

  She shook her head.

  “Well,” he said cheerfully, “no news is good news. I always say that optimism and anticipation are the spice of life.”

  Mart, who wore his blond hair in a crew cut, was forever using big words, often to Trixie’s annoyance. She secretly envied his vocabulary which made it easy for him to write compositions. She could never think of a word to put on paper, let alone spell and punctuate properly.

  He nudged Trixie with his elbow. “Why so glum, dopey?”

  Trixie glared at him. “You know why. Don’t pretend you weren’t eavesdropping yesterday when Miss Jones was talking to Moms and Dad.”

  Mart quirked his sandy eyebrows. “Eavesdropping is hardly the correct word to use when describing the unavoidable overhearing of your loud moans and groans when you saw Miss Jones’s car turn into our driveway. Since she is your guidance counselor, it did not take me long to put two and two together and arrive at the conclusion that you are flunking your two weakest subjects, mathematics and the English language.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Trixie stormed. “I’m not really flunking anything. Miss Jones said that if I worked hard for the next few weeks I could get high marks in the midyears. So I’ll just have to study hard.”

  Mart raised one finger impressively. “Ah, there’s the rub. Study hard. I fear the sad truth is that you do not know how to study at all, let alone industriously. I have frequently observed you when you are about to attack a problem which will involve reducing several fractions to the lowest common denominator. Instead of concentrating on the task before you, you chew the eraser on your pencil and gaze out of the window or off into space.” He spread his hands. “Now I ask you, is that studying?”

  “Oh, be quiet,” Trixie shouted. “That is not studying and it is not the way I study, either. And in case you’re interested, the problem that almost drove me crazy last night had nothing to do with fractions. It was a nightmare, I tell you. All about trains leaving at the same time from two different places on a single track.” She pulled her blue cardigan up and around her face, shuddering.

  Mart snorted. “Well, did you get the right answer?”

  “Of course not,” Honey put in loyally. “And I don’t blame her for not trying. It was a scary sort of problem. Just thinking about that awful collision gave me a nightmare, too.”

  “I didn’t even try to understand it,” Di admitted. The girls were all wearing twin sweater sets with matching skirts. Di’s was lavender and, imitating Trixie, she pulled her cardigan up to cover her face. Buttoning the next-to-the-top button over the bridge of her pretty nose, she blinked her violet eyes rapidly. “Groan, groan. As soon as I saw that word single track I knew what kind of a problem to expect so I simply ignored it and went on to the next one.” Still blinking, she continued in her muffled voice, “The next one was worse. Groan, groan, groan!”

  Mart threw up his hands in disgust. “How dumb can you women get? What was this nightmarish problem anyway?”

  Honey giggled. Imitating the others, she masked her face with her yellow cardigan and intoned, “One train was traveling at the rate of forty miles per hour; the other at the rate of fifty miles per hour. And their starting places were one hundred and forty miles apart. Question: What will happen and when?”

  Di unmasked her face and narrowed her eyes. “Simple, huh? The next one was even more simple. So simple in fact that I ignored it completely. Any time I see the word single track—”

  “For Pete’s sake,” Mart exploded, “single track isn’t a word, dopey. It’s a phrase.”

  Di groaned more loudly than ever. “Must we bring grammar into this horrible conversation? If there is one thing Trixie and I hate worse than math, it’s grammar. Right, Trix?”

  “Truer words were never spoken,” said Trixie. “I’m thinking seriously of quitting school until Jim starts the one he plans to have for orphans.”

  Di made her eyes even wider. “What kind of a school is he going to have?”

  “Lessons,” said Trixie, “will be sandwiched in between outdoor sports. That’s for me. But definitely.”

  “Me, too,” agreed Di enthusiastically. “I knew Jim planned to have a school of his own some day but I thought it was just going to be for orphan boys. At least that’s what he told me the last time we talked about it.” She leaned across the table to attract Trixie’s attention. “Has he changed his mind, or something?”

  But Trixie wasn’t listening. Redheaded Jim was hurrying toward them, his freckled face flushed with excitement.

  “Phone for you, Di,” he called out. “It’s your mother, on the kitchen extension.”

  Di fled, and Honey gasped, “Oh, that must mean she’s heard from Mr. Wilson.”

  “Let’s keep our fingers crossed,” Jim said and hurried back to the kitchen.

  “Fingers and toes,” Mart added. “Wow! Two weeks in the Sunshine City of Tucson. Cowboys, Indians, horses, deserts.” He patted Trixie’s hand paternally. “I pity you, poor little stay-at-home!”

  Tri
xie said nothing; she was too close to tears to speak a word.

  And then Di came hurrying back, her lovely face glowing with pleasure. “It’s all settled,” she fairly shouted. “Uncle Monty just telephoned. We leave early Monday morning on a nonstop plane!”

  Chapter 2

  The Big Question

  Mart howled. “Monday morning? That means none of us can go. The holidays don’t start until next Friday, a whole week from today!”

  “Do we have to leave on Monday?” Honey asked. “Why so early?”

  “I don’t understand it myself,” Di said. “But it has something to do with an ancient Mexican Christmas rite called La Posada which takes place on Tuesday evening. Uncle Monty wants us to be there a day ahead of time, so that means leaving early Monday morning.” She stared down at her plate. “Mother said I could go and she was so sure your parents would let you all go on Monday, too, that she’s telephoning Dad right now to make the plane reservations.”

  Mr. Lynch, like Mr. Wheeler, commuted daily to his office in New York City, but Mr. Belden worked in the Sleepyside bank. “We’d better call your father up right away,” Trixie said to Di, “and tell him not to buy a ticket for me. If you were going to leave on Friday I might do enough homework between now and then to convince Moms and Dad that I will pass the midyears. But next Monday! I haven’t a prayer.”

  “Oh, dear,” Di moaned. “Why did you have to neglect your studies at a time like this, Trix?”

  “That’s Trixie for you,” said Mart, shaking his head gravely. “She always does the right things at the wrong times and the wrong things at the right time for making them wronger, if you follow me.”

  “We don’t,” Trixie retorted sourly. “And what, may I ask, makes you so sure that you will be allowed to leave on Monday? Your own math marks can’t be so good that Moms and Dad will be thrilled at the idea of your skipping five days of school.”

  Mart waved his hands airily. “If you had kept awake evenings during the past few weeks you would have learned that Brian, our brainy brother, has been tutoring me in algebra, with the result that I now have attained the heights of an eighty average.”