The Legend of Deadman's Mine

by Joan Lowery Nixon

  Dan handed Brian a quarter, and they headed for the pay phone outside the lodge. Brian thumbed through the phone book, found the listing for the insurance company, dropped his quarter into the phone, and dialed the number.

  “But you’re just a kid,” Dan interrupted. “Whoever answers will just think you’re some jerk playing a prank.”

  Brian smiled and mouthed a silent “Watch this.”

  When a receptionist answered, he deepened his voice. It was so realistic that Dan had a hard time not laughing.

  “I’m investigating the disappearance of Wade Morrison’s horse Nightstar,” Brian said. “Am I correct in assuming he’s insured by your company?”

  “The sheriff has already been here to talk to us,” the receptionist answered impatiently. “Oh well, wait a minute. I’ll connect you with one of our agents.”

  “Looks good,” Brian excitedly whispered to Dan, cupping his hand over the mouthpiece. “This must be the company or the sheriff wouldn’t have been there asking questions.”

  When the agent came on the line Brian identified himself as a detective following up on information on the disappearance of Nightstar.

  “There’s nothing more I can tell you,” the agent answered wearily. “Mr. Morrison hasn’t filed a claim as yet. Until he does, there’s nothing we can do.”

  “Can you tell me how much Nightstar’s insured for?”

  “Your department already has that information. Just who did you say you are?” the agent suddenly asked.

  “Thanks for your help,” Brian said quickly, and hung up.

  “Whoa!” said Dan. “That was incredible. You had that guy totally fooled.”

  “Not totally,” Brian said, frowning. “He wouldn’t tell me how much Nightstar is insured for, just that Mr. Morrison hasn’t filed a claim yet.”

  “So what do you do now?” Dan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Brian told him. “I have to think about it.”

  The boys spent the rest of the day swimming, riding, and hiking. Brian was so busy with one activity after another he didn’t have time to think about Nightstar. And that evening after a huge supper, the staff organized a no-talent show that kept everybody laughing. Brian was so tired that night he was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

  The next day just before lunch, Brian sat down on the bench in front of the lodge and reviewed the notes he had made in his notebook. After a few minutes he frowned. His father had taught him that in building a case, start with what you know first. But all Brian really had so far were questions. Lots of questions. For instance, What would make Mr. Morrison delay in filing an insurance claim? And what did Woody know about Nightstar? When Woody stopped working for Mr. Morrison, could his reasons have had anything to do with the missing horse? And what could Mr. Morrison have meant when he warned Woody “or else”? Or else what?

  Suddenly a hissing voice startled him. “Ssst!” Sean stepped out from behind a tree. “Brian,” he asked, “Bobby isn’t around somewhere, is he?”

  “No, he isn’t,” Brian said. “What’s the problem, Sean?”

  Sean carefully looked to both sides before he sneaked out from his hiding place.

  “Bobby’s a nice guy,” Sean explained, “but he sticks to me like glue.” He pulled a wad of string from his pocket. “Now he wants me to help him make a kite.”

  Just then they saw Will walking hurriedly down the path toward them. “Either of you boys seen Carter lately?” he called out.

  “I haven’t seen him since breakfast,” Brian answered.

  “Me, either,” Sean said. “But he’s got to be somewhere around here. Right?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Will said. “Mike showed us where he saw Carter take off by himself into the woods behind the cabins. That was a few hours ago, and no one has seen him since. Mr. Austin and some of the others are already out looking for him. If you see Carter, let me know right away.”

  As soon as Will left, Sean asked, “Brian, do you suppose Carter really meant what he told us? Do you think he went looking for the stolen horse?” Sean began to get that creepy feeling he always felt when he thought something bad was going to happen.

  “He got in big trouble before when he broke the rules and went off by himself,” Brian said. “He wouldn’t do it again.”

  “He wouldn’t? Then why can’t anyone find him?”

  Brian wondered if he should have paid more attention to Carter’s bragging. “He did say he was going to find the missing horse before we did.”

  “We’d better tell Mr. Austin,” Sean said. His stomach was really beginning to hurt.

  “Will said he and the others already went looking for Carter,” Brian said.

  “You’re right,” Sean said. “What about Will? Should we tell him what we know?”

  “All we know is what Will already knows,” Brian said. “That Carter wandered off and is missing.”

  “Yeah,” Sean said, “but wandered off where?”

  Brian jumped up and walked quickly toward the cabin. “That’s what we’re going to find out!” he called back over his shoulder.

  “Really?” Sean glanced at the heavy forest surrounding the camp and sighed. “Just how are we going to do that?”

  7

  “SEAN!” BOBBY YELLED FROM the lodge porch. “Hey, Sean!” He jumped down the stairs and ran up to Brian and Sean. “You didn’t come in for lunch,” he complained to Sean. “I was waiting for you. I even saved you a seat.”

  “Go back and eat,” Sean answered. “I’m going to skip lunch. There’s something Brian and I have to do.”

  “What?” Bobby asked excitedly. “I’ll do it with you.”

  “No, you won’t.” Sean was already worried enough about how they’d find Carter. He didn’t want to have to worry about Bobby, too. He took Bobby by the shoulders and turned him back toward the lodge. “Go in and finish your lunch,” Sean told him. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “You promise?” Bobby asked, and Sean nodded. Bobby walked away.

  Sean looked at Brian, who was smiling. “What’s so funny?” Sean asked.

  “Bobby is more in love with you than your girlfriend, Debbie Jean Parker, is.”

  Sean flared red with embarrassment. “Debbie Jean Parker is not my girlfriend!” he shouted, but Brian had already walked to the edge of the clearing and was bent down examining the ground.

  “When Carter got lost before,” Brian said, “he was following Woody and looking for Deadman’s Mine. My guess is that he’ll take the same route.”

  “Not so loud,” Sean said. “Bobby’s still close enough to hear.”

  Brian lowered his voice. “Mike said that Carter entered the woods behind the cabins. All we have to do is pick up his trail.”

  “His trail?” asked Sean. “Why are you so sure we can follow his trail?”

  Brian smiled. “Since we’ve been here Carter hasn’t once been without a bag of peanuts. I’m hoping he’ll be as messy on the trail as he is in camp.”

  “You mean we’re going to follow his trail of peanut shells?” Sean asked.

  “Right.”

  “Won’t the people who are looking for him notice the peanut shells?”

  “I don’t think so,” Brian said. “Maybe there won’t even be any peanut shells or not enough to follow, but we can look for them.”

  Brian and Sean walked along the edge of the clearing, searching the ground.

  Heavy boot prints were visible in the soft earth. “Here’s where the searchers entered the forest,” Brian said. “It’s probably the place Mike pointed out to Will.” He listened carefully. “I can’t hear anyone in the forest. They must be quite a ways ahead of us.”

  “Look!” Sean said. He pried up a peanut shell where it had been tramped into the soft ground.

  “Here’s another shell…and another.” Brian pointed at a scattering of peanut shells.

  “I don’t think the searchers were following the shells or they w
ouldn’t have stepped on them,” Sean said.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Brian said. “Let’s go.”

  They followed the trail of shells into the forest.

  “Here’s another one!” Sean called out. “And there’s one over here!” Sean chuckled. “I feel like Hansel and Gretel.”

  Brian pulled his knife from his pocket. “Hansel and Gretel made a trail, and we’ll make one, too. I brought along my compass, but it will be easier to find our way back if we’ve clearly marked our trail. Give me the string you’ve got in your pocket.”

  Brian cut a six-inch length of the kite string and tied it to the end of a low branch. He cut the rest of the string into pieces and began tying them to branches as they walked deeper and deeper into the woods.

  Even with the sun high overhead, the woods were dim, shadowy, and eerily quiet. A soft blanket of pine needles carpeted the ground, but an occasional twig snapped loudly beneath their feet. Now and then Brian and Sean heard strange rustling sounds nearby. But they didn’t hear voices or sounds that might be the searchers.

  “I don’t see any signs that the searchers came this way,” Sean said.

  “I don’t, either,” Brian told him. “They must have taken a different direction somewhere back there.”

  Sean flopped onto the ground. “It’s all uphill, and I’m tired,” he said. “Can we rest for a couple of minutes?”

  “Sure,” Brian said, and he sat down next to Sean.

  A twig snapped. “What was that?” Sean asked, looking behind him into the tangled brush.

  “It might have been an animal,” Brian said.

  “What kind of animal?” asked Sean. “A mountain lion? A bear?”

  “Not this close to the ranches,” Brian said. “What we probably heard was a rabbit or a wood rat, or something like that.”

  “Rats?” said Sean. “Yuck! I hate rats!”

  Suddenly there was a loud crash, and Sean whirled and screamed as something came bounding out of the brush.

  “Bobby!” Sean said, groaning. “I told you to stay at the lodge!”

  “I don’t have to do what you say,” Bobby said. “You’re not my mother. Besides, if you didn’t want anyone to follow you, you shouldn’t have left a trail.” Bobby grinned and held up a fistful of string.

  “Bobby!” Brian complained. “The pieces of string were there to make it easy to find our way back!”

  “Oh,” Bobby said. “Well, maybe Woody will help us.”

  “Woody?” Brian said. “What does Woody have to do with this?”

  “When Mr. Austin went with some of the others to search for Carter, he left Woody in charge. I wanted to help, too, so I told Woody what I heard you say about Carter and that you and Sean were going to go look for him.”

  “What did Woody do then?” Brian asked.

  Bobby shrugged. “He went into the office and made some phone calls.”

  Bobby looked at Brian, then at Sean. “So, where’s Carter?” he asked.

  8

  THE CLIMB WAS STEEP and very hot, but every now and then Bobby, Sean, and Brian spotted a discarded peanut shell or two, so they kept on.

  “How far did Carter go?” Sean grumbled.

  “I don’t know,” Brian said, wiping his face with his shirtsleeve. “I’m guessing that by now we’ve left the Austin property and are on the Morrison ranch.”

  At that point the trail of peanut shells led upward onto a wide rock ledge edged on one side with a thick tangle of dead branches and underbrush.

  “You need a machete to cut through this junk,” Brian complained as they began pushing branches out of the way.

  “Just like your room at home,” Sean joked.

  “Very funny,” said Brian.

  “I see two peanut shells,” Bobby called out, and pointed. “And there’s another one farther up.”

  Sean started toward Bobby. But suddenly Brian stopped.

  “Wait a minute, Sean,” he said. “What would a pile of dead branches be doing on a rock ledge in the middle of a forest?”

  Sean shrugged uncomprehendingly. “I guess it was easier than carting the branches to the middle of someplace else,” Sean answered.

  “Sean!” Brian said. “Think! Remember what Cookie said about a rock ledge and what Woody said about the brush covering the doorway to the mine?”

  Suddenly Sean remembered. He grinned. “Right. And this has got to be the highest peak around here!”

  Brian glanced at the sun. “And we’re facing south.”

  Brian and Sean frantically began pulling away the tangle of branches.

  “I knew it!” Brian said when they discovered a wooden doorframe in the wall of the ledge. “It’s the entrance to Deadman’s Mine! It’s real!”

  Brian heaved open the door.

  “L-look!” Sean shouted.

  Bobby let out a yell and grabbed Sean’s arm.

  “Th-the p-prospector’s skeleton!” Sean screamed.

  Facing them was a dusty skeleton, its nearly toothless skull grinning a welcome.

  “Brian! The prospector’s skeleton is here, just like Woody said! This has to be the lost Deadman’s Mine! We found it! We really found it!”

  “We sure did!” said Brian. “Let’s check it out.”

  A section of a once shored-up ceiling had collapsed at one side of the large, dug-out space just inside the door, letting in sunlight.

  “That’s funny,” Brian said as they looked around inside the mine.

  “What?” asked Sean.

  “This mine was supposed to be abandoned. But everything looks too neat.” Brian pointed. “Look.”

  Rotted, fallen timbers had been cleared and piled next to a stack of old boxes and tools.

  “You’re right,” said Sean. “That is weird.”

  “Peeuuu!” said Bobby as he pinched his nose closed. “What’s that stink?”

  Brian sniffed. So did Sean.

  “I know that smell,” Sean said. He and Brian grinned.

  “Horses!”

  Brian carefully crossed the open space of the mine to where it made a turn to the left. Sean and Bobby followed him closely.

  A large black horse, tethered to a wooden post, whinnied as Brian approached.

  “You were right, Sean,” said Brian. “A mine was the perfect place to hide a stolen horse.”

  The horse’s right front ankle was tightly wrapped, and it favored that leg, limping a little as it nervously backed away from Brian.

  “Nightstar!” Brian said, instantly recognizing him from the photos in Mrs. Austin’s book.

  Sean stared at the horse. “Excellent,” he said. “But what do we do now? Try to return the horse or keep looking for Carter?”

  “I want to check something,” Brian said. He pulled his notebook and pen from his pocket and handed them to Sean. “I’m going to give you a number. Write it down.”

  Sean took them and watched Brian slowly approach the horse. “What are you going to do?”

  “Look inside his lower lip for an identification number that’s tattooed there.”

  “Yikes! What if he bites?”

  Brian had wondered the same thing, but he hoped that horses were like dogs and behaved well with people who didn’t seem afraid of them. He gently stroked the horse’s neck and nose while he murmured, “Good boy, Nightstar. I won’t hurt you.”

  He pulled down the horse’s lower lip and read the number to Sean. Nightstar whinnied and pulled away, and Brian jumped back quickly, afraid the horse might step on his feet.

  “Sean!” he said suddenly, looking at his hands. He showed them to Sean. Both palms were smeared with black dye. “Do you know what this means?”

  But Bobby interrupted by whimpering, “I don’t like it in here, you guys. Let’s go back to the ranch.”

  Just then a couple of loose stones rolled down from the entrance to the mine. Then came a spine-chilling wail.

  “It’s the ghost!” Sean shouted. “Let’s get out of here!”<
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  Brian grabbed his arm. “It’s not a ghost! Watch out!” He pulled Sean out of the way as Carter came tumbling head over heels into the mine.

  Carter sat up and stared at Brian. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” Brian said.

  Carter’s eyes widened when he saw the horse. He glanced around, and Brian could see that he was finally beginning to figure things out.

  “Hey! How about that? I found the lost mine!” Carter exclaimed. “And Nightstar! That’s got to be Nightstar! I wonder if there’s a reward!”

  “You found them?” Sean said. “What do you think we’re doing here?”

  “We followed the trail of your peanut shells,” Brian told Carter. “They led right past the mine and up the side of the mountain.”

  “Where you got lost,” Bobby added.

  Carter’s face turned red. He was about to object when Brian said, “We can’t stay here. We’ve got to take the horse back. We’ve got to call the sheriff.”

  “Before someone else gets here,” Sean said.

  “Someone else?” Bobby asked. “Like who?”

  Sean froze when he heard a noise outside on the rock ledge. “Listen!” he whispered.

  The sound came closer.

  “Footsteps!” Brian said. “Look!”

  A tall, heavyset figure stood menacingly in the doorway.

  Sean gulped and nudged Brian. “Now what?” Sean asked in an alarmed tone.

  Brian shook his head. “We’re trapped.”

  9

  WHAT ARE YOU KIDS doing here?” the man demanded angrily.

  “Mr. Morrison!” Carter, yelled. “Boy, are we ever glad to see you!”

  Mr. Morrison ignored Carter as he stepped into the mine. His face was red and sweaty, and Brian thought he appeared nervous.

  Carter didn’t seem to notice. “Hey, Mr. Morrison,” he said, “we found Nightstar. Is there a reward? There ought to be.”

  “Be quiet, Carter,” Brian mumbled.

  “What for?” Carter told Brian. “I found Nightstar and I want my reward. Isn’t that right, Mr. Morrison?”