“Fourteen,” Bailey said. “There are sick sheep living in the pasture behind the house. They’re not being cared for properly.”
“Fifteen,” Alex stated. “The man at the sheep pasture said his name is Gonzo, but he doesn’t look like the newspaper photo of Marshall Gonzalez. He’s taller and thinner.”
“And dirtier!” Bailey added with a laugh. “Sixteen. Brindle Branch Farm was a sheep farm. The sign that bears its name was carved by someone with the initials M. G.”
“Seventeen,” Alex said. “Brindle Branch Farm was probably located on Brindle Creek, which is now Woolly Creek”
“Last but not least, number forty-six from the ear tag Alex found belongs to Hazelwood Sheep Farms, which used to be called Brindle Branch Farm. They probably use paint sticks to temporarily brand their sheep when new babies are born.
“And,” Bailey added, “those paint sticks might be what the messages on the lambs were written with.”
“Wow.” Brian shook his head appreciatively. “You guys have dug up a lot of information in only a few days.”
“We had to! We only have a few days to figure this whole thing out!”
“Wait a minute!” Alex’s eyes blazed. “We missed an obvious step!”
Bailey’s forehead creased. “We did? What?”
“The ear tags! We know Hazelwood Farms’ ID is forty-six. Now we need to see if the lambs with the messages have the same ID!”
Bailey clapped her hands. “You’re right! How could we have missed that?”
“Good thing we reviewed our notebook. It really did help us connect some ideas!”
“So what are we waiting for?” Brian asked. “Let’s go check some ear tags.”
All three were out the door in the shake of a lamb’s tail. They ran into Aunt Darcy in the kitchen.
“Supper will be ready soon. Don’t go too far.”
“We won’t,” Brian answered. “We’re just going out to see some of the lambs.” He winked at the girls.
The three ran across the yard to the pasture, slowing as they approached so as not to scare the sheep. Shy limped along in the chase. Opening the gate, they pushed their way through the flock. Bow nuzzled their hands for some attention.
Bailey absently stroked the lamb’s head. “I don’t see them.” Her head turned to look first one way, then another. “Me neither,” Brian said.
“They’ve got to be here somewhere,” Alex encouraged. “We just need to keep looking.”
They split up, and each took a section to search, but they couldn’t find the marked sheep.
“Where could they be?” Bailey asked.
Brian looked stricken.
“Brian, what is it?” Bailey eyed her cousin.
“Sometimes Dad separates the animals that are going to be sold.”
“Sold? He can’t sell those lambs! It would be like selling Charlotte in Charlotte’s Web!” Alex wailed.
“Yeah, they’re communicating with us just like she did in her spiderweb,” Bailey agreed.
“I remember hearing Dad say some men were coming this afternoon to look over some of our young sheep. Some of them might be the ones with the weird markings.”
“Now we’ll never find out which ranch the sheep came from!” Bailey felt like throwing herself on the ground. Disappointment curled through her like a giant wave from her stomach to her eyes, threatening tears. She took a deep breath and let it back out.
“I didn’t say they’d been sold already, but he may have separated them from the others,” Brian said gently.
“So where are they?” Bailey demanded.
“Could be a number of places—in a different pasture, in the barn, or maybe at another farm already.”
“We’ve got to find them.” Bailey looked around. “Which place should we check first?”
“The barn’s the closest. Let’s go there,” Alex suggested.
Without a word, they worked back through the flock of milling sheep and out the gate to the barn. Shy trotted with them, happy and unconcerned. Bow baaed her dismay when they walked away. Bailey knew before they ever set foot in the barn that the lambs weren’t there. It was too quiet. But the trio walked through the building checking each stall.
“Maybe they’re just sleeping in a pen somewhere,” Alex said hopefully.
“They’re not here,” Bailey said.
“Where do we look next, Brian?” Alex asked.
“The other pasture,” Brian said. “But it’s too far to go to before supper.”
“It’ll be getting dark after that!” Bailey moaned.
“If they’re in the far pasture, they’ll still be there in the morning,” Brian said matter-of-factly. “And if they’re not, we probably won’t find them anyway.”
Bailey thought she might cry but bit her lip hard to hold back the tears. Their best clue. Gone!
The Lost Sheep
Bailey and Alex trudged back to the house while Brian secured the gates and made sure everything was closed tight.
“Those marked lambs were our best clue!” Frustration filled Bailey’s voice.
“I know,” Alex said. “It seems the odds are against us solving this mystery. But we have lots of other clues to work with. And we have pictures of the lambs’ messages.”
“Yeah, I guess. I just hope if the police get involved, they won’t think we marked the sheep ourselves and then took pictures of our funny little joke. We have absolutely no proof.”
“We didn’t have proof even when we had the sheep.”
They entered the kitchen, slamming the screen door behind them.
“Supper’s ready as soon as you wash up,” called Aunt Darcy, carrying a steaming casserole to the table and setting it on a trivet.
Bailey and Alex shared the bathroom sink as they washed their hands. “We’ll have to ask Uncle Nathan about the lambs,” Bailey suggested as she handed the towel to Alex.
“Just don’t give away the investigation in the process,” Alex warned.
Brian came in just as they returned to the kitchen. Bailey threw him a questioning look, but he shook his head on his way to wash up.
They all sat down, and Uncle Nathan asked God to bless the food.
“What is it?” Brian asked his mom as he lifted the casserole lid.
“Tuna casserole with peas.” She uncovered a plate of warm, freshly made whole wheat bread and passed it to Bailey, along with the tub of butter.
“Mmm! This bread smells delicious!” Bailey gushed. She quickly spread a heap of butter on a slice and bit into it.
“How was your afternoon?” Uncle Nathan asked the girls. “I assume you didn’t get chased by a dog.”
Bailey laughed as she finished chewing the bread in her mouth. “No, nothing that exciting this afternoon.”
“I can’t believe all that happened only this morning.” Alex shook her head, eyes wide. “Seems like days ago!”
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” Brian flashed a smile at Alex.
She quickly looked away, red creeping into her face.
“Uncle Nathan, did you move some lambs today?” Bailey tried to sound casual in her question, casting a glance at Alex.
“A few. They showed signs of getting hoof rot, so I had to quarantine them from the rest of the flock.”
“Hoof rot?” Bailey passed the butter on to Alex.
“It’s a fungal infection of the hoof that can lead to lameness if it isn’t treated.”
“How do they get it?” Alex asked.
“It usually happens when sheep spend long hours on wet grounds. That’s why it’s important to keep their bedding clean and dry.”
“But we do that,” Brian said and took a bite. After swallowing, he added, “We take good care of our sheep.”
“Of course we do, but these are some sheep we bought at the last auction. They may have been infected before they came to us and just didn’t show the symptoms until now.”
Bailey kicked Alex. Alex jumped at the sharp jab a
nd shot Bailey a dirty look. Bailey opened her eyes as wide as possible as if to give her friend a clue that she had an idea. Alex nodded. They’d talk later.
“We’ve had sheep with hoof rot before,” Aunt Darcy said.
“Will they get better?” Bailey’s voice came out high, registering her concern and her tender heart.
“Oh yes,” Uncle Nathan assured her. “We’ll soak their feet in Epsom salts and put medicine on them. And keep their bedding extra clean and dry until they are ready to join the rest of the flock again.”
“So where are the lambs now?” Brian asked. “We didn’t see any in the barn.”
“They’re isolated in the old henhouse.” Uncle Nathan spooned a mountain of casserole on his plate and dusted it with pepper.
Bailey looked at Brian and Alex. All three raised their eyebrows and exchanged smiles.
In their room that night, Alex checked her e-mail while Bailey got ready for bed. “Here’s something from Sydney. I’ll read it out loud.”
Hi, Bailey and Alex! I found out Gonzo’s grandpa, Pedro, disowned Gonzo’s dad, Jaime, when he was a rebellious teenager. However, when Pedro learned he had a grandson, he started a relationship with him against Jaime’s wishes, continuing their bad relationship. Pedro eventually cut his son completely out of his will and put Gonzo in instead.
Alex looked wide-eyed at Bailey. “Sounds like that could be the motive in our mystery.”
“Yes!” Bailey then shared the idea that prompted the kick under the table. “Remember those sheep we saw at Hazelwood Farms?”
“Yeah, they smelled worse than Uncle Nathan’s sheep!”
“But remember how sick they seemed? Some could barely walk!”
“Yeah, I remember.” Alex looked blankly at Bailey.
“I bet they had hoof rot, and the sheep with the messages came from that flock.”
Alex’s eyes lit up like twin candles. “You’re a genius!” She grabbed Bailey’s hands, and they danced around the room in their pajamas. They finally collapsed on the floor in laughter.
“But wait a minute,” Alex said breathlessly. “The message said Gonzo was being held captive at Brindle Branch.”
“Yeah…”
“But we met Gonzo at Hazelwood. It’s the wrong farm, and he didn’t seem like he was being held against his will anyway.”
Bailey’s eyebrows came together. “Hmm. You’re right.” She paused. “I don’t have an answer to that right now, and I’m too tired to think it through.” Bailey yawned and stretched. “How ‘bout if we sleep on it, and maybe something will come to us tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Alex flipped off the light. “We also need to take a walk down the creek to see if we can learn any more about Brindle Branch Farm.”
“And I need to spend extra time shearing to get my time down. It’ll be my last day to practice before the big competition. Looks like we have a busy day ahead of us.” Bailey yawned again. She heard Alex breathe heavy, no doubt counting sheep.
Friday morning dawned bright and warmer. After a quick breakfast, Bailey and Alex hurried to the barn to start shearing. Alex timed Bailey partway through their morning’s work and found she had trimmed off another minute.
“Still not enough to win tomorrow’s contest.” Bailey’s forehead wrinkled.
“Just keep at it. We’ll time you again at the end of the morning.” Alex smiled and gave Bailey an encouraging pat on the back. “I just know you can do this.”
Before long, Bailey was guiding her last sheep to the shearing station. She waved Alex down. “Will you time me once more? I’m on my last sheep.”
“Sure.” Alex set her shears down and came to Bailey’s station. “Let me know when you’re ready.” Alex’s finger was poised to push the stopwatch button at Bailey’s word. “Remember—just pretend you’re uncovering another message on the sheep.”
“All right. Ready!” Bailey said.
Alex started the stopwatch, and the shearing began. Fleece fell to the clean barn floor in thick, curly bunches.
Minutes later, Bailey called, “Done!”
Alex punched the button on the stopwatch and checked the time. “Thirteen minutes, thirty-nine seconds. Bailey, you dropped almost two minutes today!”
“Yeah, but it still isn’t enough to beat last year’s record of twelve minutes, twenty seconds. I’m out of days to practice.”
“I still think you have a chance to win. Every time you shear you get faster. When you compete, I bet you’ll have your fastest time ever.”
“I hope so.” Bailey looked to Alex’s workstation. “Are you finished with your lambs?”
“I only have two more; then I’m done.”
“I’ll take one and you do the other. Then we’ll be through,” Bailey offered. “That will give me a little more practice, and we can get to our detective work sooner.”
“Sounds good to me.”
After the last lambs were sheared, Bailey asked, “What should we do first?”
“Let’s peek at the lambs in the henhouse.”
“I’m glad we still have a chance to check their ear tags.” Bailey started toward the building the hens had once occupied.
“Me, too!”
Bailey and Alex ran toward the henhouse. They heard the lambs bleating. Bailey pulled the weathered door open and stepped into the shadowy building. Sun poured through glassless windows and spaces between the old wooden wall slats, striping the henhouse in light. A rotten stink permeated the air.
The lambs weren’t penned up. They roamed freely in the building, though there wasn’t much room. Most limped, their hooves infected.
“Here you are!” Bailey said as she moved closer to the lambs. Then she stopped short. “Alex!”
Alex was just entering through the door.
“It’s not them!”
“What?”
“These aren’t the lambs with the messages!”
Alex joined Bailey, and the two looked closely at each sheep. No messages adorned any of them.
“Where could they be?” Alex bit the cuticle on her thumb.
“We need Brian to show us where that other pasture is he told us about yesterday.”
“What if they’re not there either?”
“Then we need to tell Uncle Nathan that someone stole his sheep.” Bailey looked at her watch. “Brian won’t be done shearing for another couple of hours. In the meantime, maybe we should take that walk down the creek to see if we can learn anything about Brindle Branch Farm.”
“We promised Uncle Nathan we’d stay on this side of the creek.”
“There are farms on this side of it, too. We might be able to talk to some of those neighbors.” Bailey pulled out her lip balm and smeared on a generous layer.
“Good point,” Alex said. “Let’s go.”
At the first farmhouse they reached, a slender woman wearing blue capris and a floral, button-down sleeveless shirt was weeding a strawberry bed.
“Excuse me,” Bailey called.
The woman looked up from her plants. “Yes?”
“I’m Bailey Chang, and this is my friend Alexis. We’re visiting my Uncle Nathan who lives just across the pasture.”
“Oh yes,” the woman replied. “We know Nathan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bailey.” She extended a hand to each of the girls, one at a time. “And you, too, Alexis. I’m Trudy Myers.”
“We’re doing a bit of research about the area and wondered if you could help us fill in some gaps.” Bailey pulled out her notepad.
“I’d be glad to help if I can,” Ms. Myers said.
“We found out the name of this creek used to be Brindle Creek,” Alex informed her. “But we found an old sign at the flea market that said BRINDLE BRANCH FARM, and now we’re curious about that.”
“Brindle Branch Farm?” Ms. Myers pulled another weed. “Yes, I’ve heard of that.”
“You have?” Bailey felt like hugging the woman.
“I haven’t lived here so many years that I can sa
y I remember it, but I do recall hearing people talk of it.”
“What did they say?” Alex asked.
“Not much, just that the men who lived there weren’t nice. Didn’t take care of their farm, I guess.”
“Anything else?” Bailey asked.
“No, not that I can think of.”
“About those men,” Alex questioned. “Do you know their names or how many of them there were?”
“Heavens! I haven’t the foggiest notion of their names, but I think I heard there were two men.” Ms. Myers eyed Bailey and Alex and smiled. “What are you girls up to anyway?”
“Just research, that’s all,” Bailey answered. “Do you know where their farm was?”
“Sorry, no,” Ms. Myers said.
“Thanks for your help,” Alex said.
“Yeah, we’ve learned a lot already!” Bailey flipped her notepad closed.
“Anytime,” Ms. Myers answered, bending over to pull another handful of weeds. “Good luck!”
Bailey and Alex went on to the next farm, where an elderly man was scattering grain for his chickens.
“Hello!” Bailey greeted him with a smile and wave.
The man looked up from his chores. “Hello yourself!” His wrinkled face crinkled in a crooked grin. Gray hair poked out on all sides beneath his straw hat. “What can I do ya for?”
Above the clucking of the chickens, Bailey introduced herself and Alex. Then she told him they were doing research of the area.
“Research, huh? Sounds important! Oh, by the way, the name’s Don.”
The girls shook his leathery hand.
“Now let’s hear more about this research you’re doin’.”
“We’re trying to learn about a place called Brindle Branch Farm. We found a sign at the flea market with that name carved in it.” Alex kept a close eye on the speckled hens pecking and scratching the ground around her. A huge red rooster eyed them from a distance.
Don rubbed his gray, whiskery chin. “Brindle Branch Farm…yes, I remember that. Its name changed a few years back.”
“It did?” Bailey’s neck jutted forward, and her eyes popped.
“Yes, ma’am. Changed ownership about the same time, too.” Don tossed another handful of grain from the cloth bag hanging over his shoulder, and the chickens ran to peck it up, clucking away.
Bailey’s Peoria Problem Page 10