Mystery in Arizona Page 12

  “The calves were branded accordin’ to the brand of the cow they were a-followin’. A calf without a mother was called a dogie and the finder of such was the keeper. Before fences was put up, any unbranded cow, calf, or steer on the range was called a maverick. A maverick belongs to whoever can rope an’ brand him fust. So jist natural-like, the rodeo pretty soon became a time when saddle-pounders got together to show off how good they was at ropin’ and bull-ridin’ and bulldoggin’ which means wrestling with a steer.

  “When the cattle and the hosses was all safely in from the range, the cowboy’s next job was bronc-bustin’. And nowadays that’s jist as much a part of any rodeo as ropin’ is. Afore a cowpoke can do any ropin’ he’s got to know how to ride, and afore he can work the range proper he has got to train his hoss good. Specially his cuttin’ hoss. A real good cuttin’ hoss knows how to cut a cow or a calf or a steer outta the herd better than his rider does. Now fust on the program is Cowpoke Bill who’s goin’ to give you an exhibition of a cuttin’ hoss in action.”

  He waved his hat and the gate was opened to admit a handsome cowboy on a beautiful white horse.

  Trixie watched breathlessly as Bill, without the use of a bridle, put his powerfully muscled, wiry animal through the various movements: First a figure eight which included right and left turns, quarter and half turns—all so sharp that the horse seemed to be on his hind feet most of the time.

  Bill departed amid loud applause and then another cowboy on a black pony rode into the corral.

  “This here cowpoke is Jack,” Tenny announced, “and he’s goin’ to give you a demonstration of calf-ropin’ without a rope or a calf.”

  Everyone laughed but sobered almost immediately. Jack and his horse performed so beautifully that you could almost see the calf. When Jack had “roped the calf” he put his pony into the stop-and-back and sprang to the ground. The horse braced its body to keep the invisible rope taut, and Jack hog-tied the invisible legs of the non-existent calf with an invisible piggin’ string. When he took off his ten-gallon Stetson and waved it, the enthusiastic crowd roared its praise.

  “That’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen,” Honey gasped. “I felt so sorry for that poor little calf when he got lassoed—I mean roped.”

  After that there were exciting exhibitions of bronc-riding, and Tenny explained that bronco is the Spanish word for rough or coarse; thus a wild ornery pony was called a bronco—bronc for short.

  Watching tensely, Trixie realized what a truly dangerous sport the rodeo is. Rarely did one of the cowboys get bucked off, and when he did he landed on his feet, but it always seemed to Trixie that the rider couldn’t possibly stay in the saddle more than a split second. Tenny explained that when a bronc-buster is bucked off, other cowboys say, “That peeler was sent pickin’ daisies.”

  “Are those horses really as wild as they seem to be?” Honey asked him with a shudder. “Or is it all just an act for us dudes?”

  “Them?” Tenny’s blue eyes twinkled. “Compared to a green bronc right off the range them hosses is as gentle as lambs ’cause they is already saddle-broke. They’re carryin’ on like that ’cause they ain’t used to havin’ the weight of a man on their backs and they don’t care for spurs, even dull ones, nohow.”

  In a louder voice he said to the crowd, “Wal, that’s all fer now, folks, and it’s fittin’ that this here exhibition should be follered up tonight by a square dance, which we hope each and every one of you will attend.”

  He slid down to the ground and in a few minutes joined the Bob-Whites beside the bunkhouse. Trixie was thrilled when he said to her, “There’s a heap o’ time twixt now and when you gotta report for chuck-wagon duty. Care to go for a short ride alongside o’ me?”

  Trixie nodded, wordless with gratitude.

  He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “Goin’ to put your leather on a bronc, or on a pony that’s been gentled some?”

  “After what I’ve seen this afternoon,” Trixie told him, “the gentler the better.” She turned around to stick out her tongue at Brian and Jim. “ ’By now, wisdom-bringers.”

  “Wha-at?” Jim demanded.

  “Wisdom-bringers,” she repeated airily. “The Old West word for schoolmarms.”

  Ten minutes later she and Tenny were galloping across the desert. “I can’t believe this is happening to me at last,” she called, waving a hand at the flat-topped mesas and majestic mountains in the distance. “And it’s just the way I imagined it would be. A sea of sand dotted with mesquite, cactus, and greasewood bushes.”

  She giggled, her sense of humor breaking the spell. “Those were the words I used in the theme I wrote about Arizona last year. Right now I’m writing a theme about the Navahos. Brian makes me produce at least two pages a day. Maybe if I keep on researching I’ll discover some way we can help Rosita.”

  “I doubt it,” Tenny said. “When it comes to family problems the Indians and the Mexicans are a very closemouthed people.”

  “I know,” Trixie agreed. “One reason why I can’t concentrate on my theme and math problems is because I keep wondering why the Orlandos left so suddenly.”

  “If I were you,” Tenny advised her, “I’d follow the Old West rule of ‘Pay no mind to nothin’ what don’t concern ye!’ ”

  “That,” said Trixie, “is the kind of thing Honey and the boys are forever telling me. But I can’t help worrying about little Petey.”

  “Why worry about him?” Tenny demanded. “He’s as happy a little boy as I have ever seen.”

  “I know,” Trixie said, “but I’m afraid he’s going to run away.”

  Tenny reined in his horse and stared at her in amazement when she stopped beside him. “Why should any kid want to run away from this ranch? Why, it’s sheer heaven to Petey. Mr. Wilson is going to buy a little burro for him soon, and he’ll have the time of his life with it when school closes for the holidays.”

  “I still think,” Trixie argued, “that he’d rather be with his grandparents wherever they are.” And she started to explain.

  When she finished Tenny shrugged. “Kids that age are always talking about running away but they never go very far, even on the rare occasions when they screw up enough courage to depart at all. Let’s talk about something more cheerful.”

  They turned their horses and started back toward the ranch.

  “I hope to have the pleasure of shakin’ a hoof with you at the square dance tonight, ma’am,” Tenny said, lapsing into the lingo.

  “I’m just going to watch,” Trixie told him. “I don’t know any of the complicated steps.”

  “You don’t need to know ’em,” he said, grinning. “You don’t need to do nothin’ but sashay forward and backward or prance around your podner. Mr. Wilson is going to do the calling and he’s no expert; sort of makes it all up as he goes along.”

  “Well, maybe I will try it,” Trixie said dubiously.

  “Sho,” he predicted enthusiastically. “It’ll be a rompin’ and stompin’ shindig—more fun than a barrel of rattlesnakes!”

  Chapter 17

  Swing Your Partner!

  That evening Trixie discovered that Tenny was right. Square dances were lots of fun whether you were an expert or not.

  While the guests were eating dinner, the ranch hands moved most of the furniture out of the huge living-room to the patios. Then Bill and Jack settled down in one corner with their guitars while Tenny, the fiddler, tuned up his violin. Trixie, Di, and Honey were so excited they could hardly eat.

  A great many of the guests felt the same way. Miss Jane Brown, who never had much of an appetite anyway, didn’t even try to do more than nibble at a roll. Now that she was an employee, too, she ate her meals with the girls and Rosita at the table near the swinging door to the kitchen.

  “I just love my job,” she told them, with an especially warm smile for Di. “Your uncle is a darling. How do you like my dress?” She was wearing a highwaisted dotted Swiss frock that had a low neckline, p
uffed sleeves, and a long full skirt. “Do I look as though I’d arrived in a covered wagon?”

  “Oh, yes,” Honey replied, “only much prettier than the ladies you see in western movies.”

  Jane Brown blushed. “You’re very sweet, Honey, and I can guess why you were given that nickname. Oh, I wish I weren’t so nervous. I haven’t the faintest idea of how to behave at a square dance.”

  “We don’t know any of the tricky steps,” Di said soothingly, “and I guess nobody does. The idea is just to dance around and have fun.” She turned to Rosita. “You’re going with us, aren’t you?”

  Rosita shook her head. “I do not know any of the steps and I have nothing suitable to wear.”

  “Oh, Rosita,” Trixie cried out, “that’s no excuse. You’ll have a good time even if you don’t dance, and you look darling in your uniform.”

  “We’re just about the same size,” Jane Brown added. “I’d love to lend you an informal evening gown. One of mine would look stunning on you. It’s a red and green plaid gingham with a wide red sash that ties in a huge bow.”

  Rosita’s dark eyes sparkled. “It sounds perfectly lovely, Miss Brown, and you are too generous to offer to lend it to me. I would accept if there were only something I could do for you in return.” She spread her pretty hands hopelessly. “But I have nothing.”

  “Oh, yes, you have,” Miss Brown corrected her. “You have your own sweet personality. Frankly, I can’t bear the thought of going into that huge room all alone. I’m terribly shy, you see. Won’t you go with me?”

  Rosita’s dimples appeared as she said impulsively, “In that case, yes.”

  They left the table together, arm in arm, and Trixie said with satisfaction, “They make a grand team. Jane Brown is so shy and as for Rosita—well, we Bob-Whites have just got to do something about her.”

  Di sighed. “Do you still think there’s something mysterious about her working here?”

  “I know there is,” Trixie said smugly. “I solved the mystery this morning when I talked to Mrs. Sherman and also when I talked to Tenny just before the rodeo.” She told them then about the accident and how desperately Rosita needed money.

  When she finished Honey said, “You’re right, Trixie, we’ve got to do something. But what? She’s much too proud to accept charity.”

  “So Tenny isn’t really a cowboy,” Di said thoughtfully.

  “No,” Trixie said in a low voice, “but it’s supposed to be a secret so for heaven’s sake don’t let anyone know what I told you.”

  “How about the boys?” Honey asked. “Can they be let in on the secret? You know how I feel about Jim. Why, ever since he became my adopted brother I’ve always told him all my secrets. I mean, the important ones.”

  “I know,” Trixie said, “and Tenny figured that it would be hard for us to not tell the boys, so he said we could.” She looked over her shoulder at the rest of the crowded dining-room. “They’re clearing away the dishes now so I guess they’re just about through.”

  In a few minutes Mart and Jim joined the girls and then Brian came in from the side door. “We’re supposed to be co-hosts,” he said, slipping into a chair beside Honey. “I just had a chat with Uncle Monty. He’s counting on us to make sure that the dance starts out with a bang.”

  “That’s right,” Jim added. “A lot of the guests will be shy about being the first couple on the floor when Uncle Monty starts calling. So it’s up to us to be the first three couples.”

  “Well, okay,” said Trixie dubiously. “I just hope I don’t trip and fall on my face. You know how clumsy I’m apt to be when I’m wearing a long skirt.”

  “We know, we know,” Mart informed her. “All too well do we know that when you trip the light fantastic you trip, period. Full stop.” He turned to Honey. “You were not, I believe, living in the Manor House at the time when Trixie made history in grade school by falling off the stage during a play when she was supposed to be a dancing daffodil.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Trixie yelled. “Why do you forever keep on using silly phrases like ‘I believe’ when you know perfectly well that the Wheelers weren’t living in the Manor House when I was in the third grade?”

  “Besides,” Di continued loyally, giving Mart a stern look, “she didn’t fall off the stage on purpose. I remember it all very well because I was the daffodil right behind her. First her paper skirt fell off, then she tripped on it, and the next thing we knew she was practically in the lap of the teacher who was playing the piano.” She laughed in spite of herself. “It really was awfully funny,” she told Honey, “because Trixie was sort of plump in those days—like Bobby is now, you know.”

  “You were pretty plump yourself,” Trixie told her sourly. Then she joined in the laughter. “I was a scream in those days,” she admitted. “I guess we all were. Anyway, I’m willing to be one of the first three couples on the floor this evening, but only if I can wear my Levi’s.”

  “Oh, no,” Di cried in a horrified tone of voice. “You’ve got to wear one of those darling new dresses you bought in Peekskill.”

  Trixie shrugged. “I suppose I will, but I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”

  “I will,” Jim said gallantly. “As my partner you will be the most graceful lady on the floor.”

  Trixie blushed and quickly changed the subject. “We’ve got a lot to discuss before the dance starts,” she said, and told the boys about Rosita’s problem.

  Jim whistled. “We’ve got to do something about her,” he agreed. “Since the motto of our club is to help others, we should be able to think of some way out for her.”

  “I’ve thought and thought,” Trixie said forlornly. “If only she weren’t so proud, Mrs. Sherman would be delighted to give her the money.”

  “Since when did Lady Astorbilt become Lady Bountiful?” Mart asked.

  “She always has been a sweet old thing,” Trixie said, and explained. Then she told the boys about Tenny and how he was masquerading as a cowboy in order to earn money while he was working for his Ph.D.

  “I sort of suspected his lingo right along,” Jim said, grinning. “It was just a little bit too pat. What a great guy he is! Maybe some day he’ll teach at my school during a summer session.”

  They finished clearing the tables then, but when the girls started to stack the dishes in the sinks the boys shooed them out of the kitchen. “Git along, little dogies,” said Jim. “We’re goin’ in cowboy rig but you gals has got to get prettied up for this here stampede.”

  They wore their flowered cotton frocks and tied ribbons around their hair. “I feel like a fool,” said Trixie to Di and Honey, “but you two look darling.”

  “You look good enough to eat,” Di told her truthfully. “If Mrs. Sherman weren’t going in her flour-sack gown you’d be the belle of the ball.”

  They all giggled as they hurried out to the living-room where the party was already in full swing. Another cowboy had joined the “orchestra” with his accordion, and Uncle Monty at the microphone was shouting, rather than singing:

  “All right, boys, heel and toein’,

  Swing yore pardners, kiss ’em if you kin.

  Now to the next step and keep a-goin’,

  Till you jine yore pards agin!”

  Jim grabbed Trixie’s hand, Brian crooked his arm at Honey, and Mart bowed low in front of Di. In less than a minute the Bob-Whites were part of the colorful, laughing crowd.

  “Gents to the center, ladies ’round ’em

  Form a circle; balance all.

  Whirl yer gals to where you found ’em;

  Promenade around the hall.”

  “How do you like the piñata?” Jim asked.

  Trixie stared up at the brown, oblong thing which hung from the ceiling rafters. “It doesn’t look much like a jar,” she said.

  “It’s not supposed to be an olla,” Jim told her. “It’s supposed to look like a hog-tied calf. The piñata doesn’t have to be a jar, you know. It can be in the shape of anythin
g that seems suitable to the occasion.”

  Uncle Monty announced the end of the first dance with:

  “Shake yore hoofs and ketch yore kitty,

  Promenade all to yore seats.”

  When Trixie caught her breath she asked Jim, “What is the occasion? I mean, you don’t usually have a piñata at a square dance, do you?”

  “No,” Jim agreed. “But it’s Uncle Monty’s birthday. The dogie done up in a piggin’ string is a surprise thought up by Foreman Howie. Di just happened to mention that it was Uncle Monty’s birthday when we were saddling up for a ride this afternoon. She didn’t know it herself until she got a letter from her mother today. Howie—he’s really a great guy, Trix, when you get to know him—promptly cooked up the idea of a piñata. Uncle Monty will get first crack at swatting that calf and of course, being paper, it’ll break immediately.”

  “What’s in it?” Trixie asked curiously.

  “Oh, just a lot of junk from the ten-cent stores,” Jim said. “Little plastic horses and cows and cowboys and Indians which Petey will fall heir to, of course. It’s the spirit of the thing and I—” He stopped suddenly. “Oh, look at Maria! Something awful must have happened.”

  Trixie whirled around to face the door which opened onto the west patio. Maria had just come in and she was wringing her hands and sobbing. As they hurried over to her, Trixie heard her cry out:

  “Petey—he’s gone! I tucked him into bed after supper but when I went back a minute ago to see if he was all right, he was gone!”

  Chapter 18

  Petey Tries Again

  From then on it seemed to Trixie as though she were living in a western movie. Several of the cowboys immediately hurried off to saddle their horses and ride across the desert in search of the missing boy. Another group, convinced that Petey must have wandered off down the driveway, raced to their cars.