Peril at Granite Peak

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Cody looked at me nervously. “Joe was just trying to help, Mr. Wright,” he said. “You could have been badly hurt on that ice.”

  Mr. Wright looked down at the ice. “Well, why wasn’t the trail properly marked, then?” he blustered, climbing to his feet. “I could have been killed!”

  I rolled my eyes at Frank behind Mr. Wright’s back. Killed? Maybe an overstatement. Frank frowned at me.

  “That’s a good point,” he said to Cody. “What happened to the sign?”

  “I don’t know.” Cody shrugged. “I helped Dad mark the off-limits trails myself this morning.”

  Mr. Wright was glaring from me to Cody and back again. If looks could kill, we’d both be in trouble. Maybe it was time to get out of Dodge.

  I grabbed my poles, which I’d dropped in the crash. “Let’s go check out the sign situation,” I told Frank. “Maybe we can figure out what happened.”

  Chet reached us in time to hear me. He shot me and Frank a dubious glance. “You mean—you guys want to go investigate?”

  I rolled my eyes again. “Not investigate,” I said. “Just check on things. See if we can tell where that closed sign went.”

  “Yeah.” Chet smirked. “Like I said. Investigate.”

  Cody and Mr. Wright looked a little confused. Ignoring Chet, I glanced at my brother. “Come on, Frank. Feel like a hike?”

  Frank and I kicked off our skis and started climbing back up the hill, leaving Cody and Chet to deal with Mr. Wright. “Nice guy,” Frank muttered as soon as we were out of earshot.

  I grinned. “Yeah. So what do you think happened to the sign?”

  He shrugged. “Probably just an oversight. Cody and his folks seem pretty stressed out right now, what with this possible blizzard chasing away their guests. Maybe they forgot one of the signs, or didn’t tie it on tightly enough.”

  “Maybe.” We didn’t talk much after that. As it turns out, hiking up a mountain through knee-deep snow is a lot harder than skiing down it.

  By the time we reached the top, we were both panting. There was no sign of that orange ribbon on or near the sign.

  “Guess you were right,” I told Frank, already losing interest. “Probably never got marked in the first place.” I glanced toward the White Rattlesnake Trail. Maybe we could get in a run before Chet caught up. That might be for the best—Chet was definitely a better skier than Mr. Wright, but he might not be a match for anything beyond a green circle hill.

  “Hold on.” Something in Frank’s voice made me turn right away.

  “What?”

  “Check this out.” He waved me over.

  I saw what he was looking at immediately. The top of the Whispering Pine Trail sign had about a half-inch layer of snow on it—the result of some midmorning flurries. But there was one spot that was clean.

  “That’s just about where the ‘Closed’ ribbon would have gone,” I said.

  “Right. So what happened to it?” Frank was already looking around.

  I did the same, stepping over to peer into a snow-covered tangle of bushes near the sign. Spotting a flash of color, I pushed the branches aside.

  “Aha! Here it is. Think it blew off?” I reached for the orange ribbon. When I tugged on it, it didn’t budge.

  Frank looked over my shoulder. “Looks like it’s being held down by a rock.” He glanced at me, looking grim. “You know what this means, right?”

  “It didn’t blow off,” I said slowly. “Someone took it down on purpose!”

  WEATHER WARNING

  3

  FRANK

  JOE KICKED THE ROCK OFF the warning ribbon. “Should we put it back up?” he asked.

  “Definitely.” I grabbed the ribbon and wrapped it around the sign, making sure it was secure.

  Joe watched me. “So who do you think dumped that in the bushes? And why?”

  “I don’t know.” I brushed off my gloves.

  “Let’s go tell Cody’s parents what happened.”

  Fifteen minutes later we were in the lodge’s main office. Cody’s father was there, sorting through some paperwork. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with weather-beaten skin, a bristly salt-and-pepper beard, and a quick smile. But that smile faded when he heard about Mr. Wright’s near miss on the slopes.

  “If something like this had to happen, why did it have to happen to Stanley Wright?” he commented with a grimace. “That man hasn’t been happy with a single thing since he arrived.” Mr. Gallagher sighed and shot us a look. “Sorry. Not very professional of me to say that.”

  “No, we get it,” Joe said. “The dude practically accused me of assaulting him when all I was doing was trying to keep him from breaking his neck.”

  “So about the closed sign . . . ,” I began.

  “It’s probably nothing,” Mr. Gallagher said. “An animal might have knocked it loose. Or maybe the wind.”

  “I don’t think so, sir,” I said. “The snow was only disturbed in that one spot. It looked like someone just lifted the ribbon right off.”

  “Hmm.” Mr. Gallagher rubbed his beard. “Well, in that case it was probably a prank. We have several rather, er, lively younger kids staying here right now. I’ll look into it. Thanks for letting me know, boys.”

  “You’re welcome,” Joe said.

  I nodded, feeling uneasy. Mr. Gallagher didn’t seem to be taking this incident very seriously. What if someone was trying to sabotage his business? Maybe someone from one of those rival resorts across the mountain?

  Then I realized I probably shouldn’t be worrying about this kind of thing anymore.

  “Okay,” I said. “I guess we’ll get back out there, then. Coming, Joe?”

  • • •

  Joe, Chet, and I spent the next several hours out on the slopes. After a few runs down White Rattlesnake and a couple of other trails, Joe talked us into taking a snowboarding lesson. Our teacher was Cody’s mom, a petite, energetic woman who soon had us practicing our heel and toe side turns, our glides, and our stops. When she was convinced we wouldn’t kill ourselves, she took us out on the real slopes to practice. It was fun, but exhausting.

  So by the time we hit the dining room that evening, we were all ravenous. “I hope the food comes fast,” Chet said, tucking his napkin into his collar like a little kid. “I’m so hungry I could eat this plate!”

  Our waitress arrived just in time to hear him. She was probably only a couple of years older than us, with curly brown hair and a pretty face. Her name tag identified her as Josie Lambert.

  “Please don’t eat the plates, guys,” she said with a laugh, setting a basket of freshly baked rolls on our table. “I’ll do my best to get your dinner here fast.”

  Joe grabbed a roll and grinned at her. “Cool. Because the bread basket’s only going to last about thirty seconds with Chet around.”

  “Hey!” Chet mumbled through the roll he’d just stuffed in his mouth. “I can’t help it. I’m a growing boy.”

  Josie giggled. “I’ll make sure to let the chef know she shouldn’t skimp on your portion.”

  “Mine either,” I said, patting my stomach.

  “Yeah. In fact, you can tell her to make it a double all around.” Joe glanced around the dining room. “There should be plenty of extra food back there. This place is even emptier than it was last night.”

  Josie’s smile suddenly collapsed. “I know, right?” she moaned. “Everyone is totally panicking about the weather. Before long there won’t be any guests left! And the Gallaghers definitely don’t need that right now.”

  How does Josie know about the trouble the Gallaghers are having getting guests? I wondered. But before I could ask her about it, there was an angry shout from across the room.

  “What’s going on over there?” Chet wondered as he reached for a second roll.

  I was already leaning sideways in my chair to see past Joe. Two men were getting in each other’s faces over near the entrance.

  “Whoa,” Chet said. “Isn’t that what’s-his-nam
e from earlier? Joe’s crash test dummy?”

  “Stanley Wright,” I said. “Who’s the other guy?”

  I glanced at Josie, but she wasn’t paying any attention to us anymore. She was staring at the two men, looking worried.

  “Oh no,” she muttered. Without another word, she ran off toward the kitchen.

  Joe shrugged. “I don’t know who the other guy is. But he looks like he could squash our pal Stanley like a bug.”

  He had a point. The second man was a tall, buff-looking guy in his late twenties. Based on his build, he was no stranger to the gym. He had to have a good fifty or sixty pounds on Stanley Wright. All of it muscle.

  “Should we go over there and try to break it up?” Joe said.

  Before Chet or I could answer, a man burst out of the kitchen. I vaguely recognized him as a lodge employee—he’d helped carry our bags in from Chet’s car when we’d arrived the day before. He was in his forties, almost as tall as Mr. Muscles but a lot leaner. Still, he looked like the kind of guy you didn’t want to mess with, if you know what I mean.

  “That’s enough, guys.” The employee’s gruff voice wasn’t very loud, but it carried. “Break it up.”

  The taller man immediately took a step back. “Sorry,” he told the employee. “Just a little difference of opinion, that’s all.” He glared at Stanley Wright. “Just stay out of my face, dude,” he snapped. “Or else!” He turned on his heel and stomped out of the dining room.

  “Wow, that Stanley makes friends everywhere he goes, doesn’t he?” Joe said.

  “Yeah.” I’d just spotted Cody’s mom hurrying toward our table, followed by a young woman in her twenties with sleek dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Hello, boys,” Mrs. Gallagher greeted us. “Having an early dinner, huh?”

  Chet patted his belly. “Yeah. Snowboarding really works up an appetite.”

  “We had a blast today, though,” I said. “We can’t wait to get out there again tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.” Joe grinned. “I can’t speak for these two, but I’m thinking I’ll be ready to enter the next Winter Olympics any day now.”

  Mrs. Gallagher chuckled, but she looked distracted. She shot a slightly worried look at the TV hanging over the bar at one end of the room. It was tuned to the weather forecast.

  “Yes, well, I hope the storm holds off so you can keep enjoying the slopes,” she said. “In the meantime, I’d like you boys to meet another guest—this is Miss Poppy Song. She’s on her own tonight, and I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind if she joined you.”

  “Sure thing.” I gestured to the empty chair between me and Joe. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks.” Poppy smiled gratefully at Mrs. Gallagher, then turned her bright, intelligent brown eyes to us as the lodge owner hurried off. “I’d feel like a total nerd sitting by myself.”

  “Then why’d you come skiing by yourself?” Chet helped himself to another roll, then pushed the almost-empty basket toward her.

  “I didn’t. I was here with a group of friends, but they all chickened out when they heard about this blizzard that’s supposed to hit tomorrow night.” Poppy selected a roll. “They left a couple of hours ago.”

  “And you stayed?” Joe asked.

  Poppy shrugged. “I didn’t have much choice. My apartment’s being fumigated, so I can’t go home. I figured I’d rather ride out the storm here than get stuck sleeping on someone’s couch.”

  “So this blizzard is really coming, huh?” I glanced again at the TV, but we were too far away to hear what the reporter was saying.

  Our waitress, Josie, arrived back at the table just in time to hear me. “We don’t know that yet,” she said quickly, passing out glasses of water to all four of us. “It’s still possible it could miss us. Anyway, they’re expecting an update to the forecast in a little while. Until then, you should just relax and not worry about it, okay?”

  “Sure, whatever,” Chet said. “I’m ready to order if you guys are.”

  We placed our dinner orders, and Josie hurried away. Poppy took a sip of her water and glanced around the table.

  “So now you know my story,” she said cheerfully. “What about you guys? Where are you from? How’d you end up here at Granite Peak Lodge?”

  “Cody Gallagher—he’s the owners’ son, you know—was my camp counselor back in the day,” Chet said. “He invited me up here.”

  “Old friends with the owners’ son, huh? Interesting.” Poppy glanced at Joe and me. “What about you two? Did you go to camp with Cody Gallagher too?”

  “Nope. We go to high school with Chet,” I said.

  Joe grinned. “Yeah. And we’re the only ones he could sucker into making the long drive up here in his old jalopy.”

  “Very funny.” Chet frowned while Joe and I laughed. He was almost ridiculously proud of the junked-out old yellow roadster he’d fixed up himself. “The Queen doesn’t appreciate your insults.”

  “The Queen?” Poppy laughed. “Do you mean your car? Why do you call it that?”

  “Because he’s nuts,” Joe informed her.

  Just then someone on the far side of the room let out a sharp whistle. Glancing over, I saw Mr. Gallagher standing near the bar, staring up at the TV.

  “Hey, could everyone pipe down for a second?” he called out as the room went quiet. “They’re about to update the forecast.”

  Someone turned up the volume on the TV. The reporter’s voice boomed out at us, sounding solemn and excited at the same time. Apparently the weather guessers had made up their minds: the blizzard was definitely headed our way.

  And it was shaping up to be the Storm of the Century!

  EXIT PLAN

  4

  JOE

  SURE WE DON’T HAVE TIME for one more run?” I glanced over at the ski lift. There had been a few other people on the slopes that morning, but with each passing hour the numbers dwindled. Now car after car went clanking up the hill empty, and there was nobody waiting in line.

  Frank checked his watch. “Better not. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, and we don’t want to take a chance of getting caught out on the roads when things get bad.”

  That was my brother—Mr. Cautious. Mr. Responsible. Mr. Annoying. But in this case, I knew he was probably right. With the blizzard due to hit in a few hours, it was time to go.

  Chet stuck out his tongue, catching a few flakes. It had started snowing lightly about an hour ago. According to the weather report we’d watched at lunchtime, the snow would start picking up within the next couple of hours and hit blizzard conditions soon after dark. And by the end, it could bring a whopping thirty inches of the stuff!

  Yeah, it was definitely time to go.

  We dropped off our skis and other rented gear at the equipment shed. Mr. Gallagher was there overseeing things.

  “Taking off, boys?” he asked as he stacked Chet’s skis against the wall.

  “Uh-huh. We figured we’d better hit the road before the storm gets bad,” Frank said.

  The lodge owner smiled, though it looked a little forced. “Can’t say I blame you. This storm looks to be a monster. Hope you’ll come back another time, though.”

  “We will,” I promised. “This place is great.”

  We headed into the main building. A roaring fire cast its glow over the spacious lobby. A bunch of people were over there, warming their hands and chattering excitedly about the coming storm. Several small children chased one another around the pile of luggage near the door, shrieking at the tops of their lungs.

  “Looks like most people are on their way out,” Chet said. “We should hurry.”

  Our suite was at the far end of the hallway upstairs. As we reached it, the door opened and Josie hurried out with an armful of crumpled towels.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, stopping just in time to avoid running into us. “Sorry, didn’t see you coming.”

  “What, did Chet order room service when we weren’t looking?” I joked.

  Josie blinke
d, looking confused. “Huh?”

  “You’re a waitress,” I said. “Waitresses bring food, right?”

  “Oh!” Her expression cleared, and she laughed. “Yes, I’m a waitress during mealtimes. The rest of the time I’m a maid. I was just making up your rooms for the night.” She shrugged. “The lodge is on a pretty tight budget these days, so we’re all pulling double duty.”

  “Wow.” I was a little surprised. “Okay, so Cody mentioned business has dropped off lately. But this place must still bring in the big bucks, right?”

  Josie hesitated, looking uncertain. “Um, not exactly,” she said at last. “I mean, I probably shouldn’t talk about this with guests, but since you guys are friends with Cody . . .”

  “What is it?” Chet looked concerned. “Is the lodge really in that much trouble?”

  Josie glanced up and down the hallway. “Sort of,” she said, lowering her voice. “Ever since those other resorts opened across the mountain, things have been pretty tight around here.” She bit her lip, which was quivering slightly. “If it gets any worse, I’m afraid I might not have a job much longer!”

  I hated seeing a pretty girl look so upset. But I wasn’t sure what to say to cheer her up.

  “It’ll be all right,” Frank said. “Business has to pick up again soon, right?”

  Josie shrugged. “I hope so. But this blizzard isn’t helping, you know? Everyone’s leaving!” She sighed, blowing a strand of curly hair off her face. “At least you guys are still here, though.”

  Frank, Chet, and I traded a guilty look. “Um, not exactly,” Frank said. “We were just coming upstairs to pack.”

  “Really?” Josie’s face fell. “Are you sure? I mean, the storm might not be as bad as they’re saying. You know how those weather people like to exaggerate. We’ll probably only get a few inches!”

  “Maybe,” Frank said. “That’s not what the weather forecast is saying, though.”

  “They don’t know everything!” Josie was starting to look and sound kind of crazed. “Seriously, this is a ski lodge. Snow is a good thing, right?”