“Where do we go from here?” Harry asked when he had learned of the morning adventure.
“If you can take Mr. Goode’s small car,” Mary began, but Harry interrupted with, “Can’t be done! They’re both out, one gone to Bisbee and the other to Nogales.”
“Oh, Big Brother,” Mary exclaimed, “couldn’t Harry sit in the front side door of your car? We girls used to ride that way at school sometimes.”
“Sure thing!” the cowboy agreed. “All aboard, let’s get going.”
Mary smiled up at him happily. “If the calf has been milking the cow all this time, it—”
Jerry shook his head. “No such luck—for the calf. Mother can milk in an emergency.”
The ride to Gleeson was a merry one. Harry sat, literally, at Mary’s feet, looking up at her admiringly and directing his conversation to her almost entirely. Jerry was very silent. No one but Dora noticed that. When Gleeson was reached, the small car stopped in front of the store and they all rushed in and astounded the old storekeeper with their exultant shout, “We’ve found Little Bodil!”
“’Tain’t so!” He stared at them unbelievingly. “Arter all these years! Wall, wall! I’ll be dum-blasted! So Little Bodil is one o’ them nun-women.” While he talked, he went behind his counter, took an old cigar box from a high shelf, opened it and held out an envelope, yellowed with age. He handed it to Jerry. “Take it to Little Bodil. I’ll be cu’ros to hear what all’s in it.”
“So are we, Mr. Harvey,” Mary began, then exclaimed contritely, “Oh, how terrible of us. We haven’t introduced the hero of the hour. Mr. Silas Harvey, this is the air scout who located the train robbers, Harry Hulbert. He seems like an old friend to us, doesn’t he, Jerry?”
“Sure thing!” the cowboy replied, then glancing at the old dust-covered clock, he quickly added, “Dick, I reckon I must be getting along over to Bar N.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Harvey. Glad to have met you.” Harry shook hands with the old man.
When they were outside the post office, the air scout turned to the cowboy. “Jerry, can’t I be your letter carrier?” he asked. “While I was waiting for you in Tombstone I enquired about the stage. I can get back there in about an hour. Then I must fly to Tucson for a meeting at headquarters tonight. I can motor out to the convent and be back here tomorrow morning with the letter translated.”
“Sounds all right to me,” Jerry said.
“And during the hour that you have to wait for the stage,” Mary turned brightly toward Harry, “you may become acquainted with the nicest dad in the world.”
Forgetting the presence of the others, Harry replied, “Is that why his daughter is the nicest girl in the world?”
Mary flushed bewitchingly, but it was evident that she was embarrassed.
Jerry drove them up to the Moore house, waited while Dick bounded indoors to speak to his mother, then they two rode away, promising to return as soon as they could the next day.
Dora, who had been watching Jerry’s face, knew that he had been deeply hurt, but she was sure he would not say anything to influence Mary. Dora thought, “He wants her to choose the one of them who would make her happier, I suppose. Believe me, it wouldn’t take me long to decide.”
Mr. Moore had heard nothing of the robbery or the raid. Mrs. Farley had not wished to cause him a moment’s anxiety about the safety of his idolized daughter. She had told him that the girls were spending the night with Mrs. Goode in Tombstone, and, since the wife of the Deputy Sheriff had been a close friend of Mary’s mother, he had thought little of it. Even now that it was all over, they decided to merely introduce Harry as a friend of Patsy and Polly, who had come West to be attached to the border patrol.
Mr. Moore welcomed the boy gladly, and, for half an hour, they talked together of the East and the West. Mary and Dora slipped away and returned with lemonade and a plate of Carmelita’s cookie-snaps.
Then the two girls walked down to the cross road with Harry and waited until he climbed aboard the funny old ’bus and rode away.
He bent low over Mary at the last moment. Dora had not heard his whispered words, but she knew by the sudden flush that they had been complimentary.
Arm in arm they turned and walked back up the gently ascending hill-road toward their home.
“How do you like the newcomer?” Dora tried to make her voice sound indifferent.
Mary laughingly confessed, “I’d really like him lots better if he didn’t flatter me so much.”
Dora replied, “I know how you feel. I’d heaps rather have a boy be just a good pal. It makes a person feel, oh, as if she were the sort of a girl a boy thought he had to make love to, or she wouldn’t be having a good time. I’ve known steens of them, fine fellows really, who came over from Wales Military to our dances. They thought the only way they could put it over big was to flatter their partners. You know that as well as I do. Why, we Quadralettes have compared notes time and again and found the same boy had said the same complimentary thing to all four of us.” Mary made no reply, so Dora continued, “Dick and Jerry are the sort of boy friends I like. They treat us as if we could be talked to about something besides ourselves. I tell you, the girl who can win the love of Jerry Newcomb is going to win one of the finest men who walks on this green earth.”
Dora’s tone was so earnest that Mary laughed. “Goodness!” she teased. “Why all this eloquence? There isn’t any green earth around here for Jerry to walk on. It’s all sand.”
Suddenly Dora changed the subject. “Why do you suppose Little Bodil is called Sister Theresa?” she asked.
Mary replied rather absently, “Oh, I think they give up their own and choose a saint’s name. Anyhow, I’ve heard they do.”
It was evident she was thinking deeply of something else.
Her thoughtfulness continued until after supper.
“What a wonderful moonlight night!” Dora said as the two girls seated themselves on the top step of the front porch to gaze out across the shimmering desert valley, below the tableland on which they lived. “I wish Jerry and Dick would come and take us for a ride.” Hardly had she said the words when they saw a dark object scudding along on the valley road.
“Somebody is coming toward Gleeson from the Bar N ranch way,” Mary said, and Dora noted that her voice was eager, as though she wanted, very much wanted, to see her silent cowboy lover.
For a long time they sat watching the narrow strip of cross road beyond the post office. If the car turned, it would surely be coming to the Moore place. If it passed, it would be going on to Tombstone probably. It turned. More slowly it climbed the grade.
“It’s the little ‘tin Cayuse,’ all right,” Dora said. She was watching the eager light in Mary’s face, lovely in the moonlight. Then, suddenly its brightness was shadowed, went out. Dora saw the reason. On the front seat with Jerry was another girl, a glowing-eyed, truly beautiful girl, Etta Dooley. In the rumble with Dick were two freckle-faced boys, the twins. Their ruddy faces were glowing with grins of delight. “Hurray!” they shouted as the small car stopped near the front porch. “We’re out moonlight riding.”
Dick quieted them, remembering that Mr. Moore might be asleep. Mary, looking pale in the silver light, went down to the car and asked Etta if she wouldn’t get out. “No, thank you,” that maiden replied, “I’ve left Baby Bess with Aunt Mollie and we’ve been gone more than an hour now, I do believe.”
“It hasn’t seemed that long, has it?” Jerry was actually looking at Etta and not at Mary.
“Oh, indeed not!” was the happily given reply. “It’s a treat for the twins and me to fly through space. Once upon a time I had a little car of my own, but that seems ages ago.”
This did not seem like the same Etta Dooley who had been so reserved when the girls had called at her cabin home. What had happened to change her, Dora wondered.
When the car turned and the small boys, remembering to be quiet, had nevertheless performed gleeful antics, Mary went up the steps and into the hou
se.
“I’m going to bed,” she said and her voice sounded tired.
Dora, wickedly pleased, could not let well enough alone. “I didn’t know that Etta was so well acquainted as to call Jerry’s mother Aunt Mollie.” She wisely did not add her next thought, “You’ll have to look to your laurels, Mary-mine. Etta’s a mighty attractive girl and she simply loves the Bar N ranch.”
When Dora spoke again, it was on an entirely different subject. “Isn’t it wonderful, Mary, to think that we’ve solved the mystery of Little Bodil and that tomorrow, perhaps, the boys are going to defy that Evil Eye Turquoise.”
“I suppose so,” Mary replied indifferently. Dora turned out the light and with a shrug got into bed with her friend.
CHAPTER XXIX
AN OLD LETTER
The next day, directly after breakfast, Mary and Dora began to expect someone to arrive. The roof of the front porch was railed around and when they had made their bed and tidied their room they stepped out of the door-like window and stood there gazing about them. From that high elevation they had a view of the road coming from Tombstone as it climbed to the tableland and also they could see for miles across the desert valley toward the Bar N ranch.
“Who do you think will be the first to arrive?” Dora asked as she slipped an arm about her friend’s waist.
Mary shook her head without replying. Then, because her conscience had been troubling her, Dora said impulsively, “Mary, dear, I didn’t mean, last night, that Harry Hulbert says nice things to you without meaning them. No one could help thinking you’re—”
Mary laughed and put a finger on her friend’s lips. “Now, who’s flattering?” Then, excitedly, “I hear a car, but I don’t see it.”
“There it is, by the post office,” Dora pointed, then, in a tone of disappointment, “Oh, it’s only that funny little Jap vegetable man from Fairbanks.”
A moment later, when they were looking in different directions, they both exclaimed in chorus, “Here come Jerry and Dick!”
“There’s the Deputy Sheriff’s little car.”
In through the window they leaped, down the front stairway they tripped and were standing in the graveled walk between the red and gold border-beds when the two cars arrived, Jerry’s in the lead.
Mary’s heart was heavy, though she tried to smile brightly, when she saw that Etta Dooley was again on the front seat with Jerry. Dick, this time, was quite alone. Harry Hulbert, although in the rear, leaped out and bounded to Mary so quickly that he reached her first.
Her welcome, though friendly, lacked the eager graciousness of the day before. Harry, however, did not seem to notice it. “I’ve got the translation here,” he said, waving the old yellow envelope.
Jerry got out of his car, turned to speak to Etta and then walked toward the waiting group. Dick had already disappeared into the house in search of his mother.
Etta, remaining in the car, called, “Good morning” to the girls. Jerry explained, “I haven’t told Etta the whole story, just the part about Little Bodil and the rock house. She was so interested, I told her we’d be glad to have her go with us.”
Mary smiled at him rather wistfully, Dora thought. Then she walked to the side of the car and said, “Won’t you get out, Etta, while we read the letter?”
Jerry, who had followed her, said, “Dick wanted us to wait till we got to the rock house before we read the letter. Can you girls go now?”
“Yes, I’ll get my hat.” Mary turned to go indoors. Dora went with her and they were back almost at once to find Jerry beside Etta, with Dick waiting to help Dora to her usual place in the rumble.
Harry, his rather thin face alight with pleasure, took Mary’s arm and, giving it a slight pressure, exclaimed in a low voice, “The gods are kind! I hardly dared hope that your old friends would let me have you today. I’ve thought of you every minute since I left you last night.”
Mary, seated at his side in the small car, turned serious eyes toward him. “Harry,” she said almost pleadingly, “please don’t talk to me that way. I—I’d rather you wouldn’t.”
An expression of sadness for a moment put out the eager light in his eyes, then, good sportsman that he was, he said, “Very well, Mary. I think I understand.”
After that his conversation was interesting, but general, until they reached the towering rock gate where Jerry’s car was standing, waiting.
“What a lonely, awesome spot this is!” Harry exclaimed.
“If you think this is awesome,” Mary laughed, “wait until we pass through those gates.”
Jerry climbed out, helped Etta, then turned to call, “Don’t get off the road, Harry. The sand’s so soft we’d have a time pulling you out.”
Dora and Dick leaped from the rumble and were joined by Mary and Harry. “We walk the rest of the way,” Dick told the air scout, “and believe me it’s hard going.”
Mary glanced ahead, saw Jerry assisting Etta as in former times he had assisted her when her feet sank ankle deep in the soft, white sand. Harry gallantly took her arm to aid her. Mary smiled at him wanly. “Thank you,” she said. “I wish I were the self-reliant athletic type like Dora. She never needs help.”
Harry bit his lip to keep from saying aloud what he thought. Before he could think of something else to say, Dick looked back and called to him, “Were you ever any place where there was such a deathlike stillness as there is in this small walled-in spot?”
Harry shook his head. “Never!” he replied. Then, glad of the interruption, he asked, “That’s the rock house, up there, isn’t it?”
Dick nodded. “That’s where the poor old fellow they called ‘Lucky Loon’ buried himself alive, if there’s any truth in the yarn.”
“Believe me, that would take more courage than I’ve got,” Harry declared with a shudder.
Jerry, glancing back, and finding that he and Etta were quite far ahead, turned and waited, still holding his companion’s arm.
Etta’s intelligent face never had seemed more attractive to Mary. The melancholy expression, which the girls had noticed, especially, the day they had called upon her, had vanished. Her eyes were bright with interest.
They walked on in a close group. “I’m simply wild to know what’s in the letter Little Bodil translated,” Dora exclaimed.
Dick laughed. “I suppose we will call that dignified Sister Theresa ‘Little Bodil’ till the end of time,” he said.
When they reached the foot of the leaning rock, which had one time been the stairway to the rock house, they gathered about Jerry who was opening the yellowed envelope. Intense interest and excitement was expressed in each face.
Sister Theresa had written a liberal translation between the almost faded lines of her dead brother’s letter.
“Dear Little Bodil—
“In my heart I feel you are alive. I have hunted all over Arizona, New Mexico and across the border. No one has heard of you. I can’t search any longer.
“Before I die I want to tell you where my gold is. Silas Harvey will tell you where my rock house is. Secret entrance—”
Jerry paused and looked in dismay at the interested listeners.
“What’s up?” Dick asked.
“The old writing was so faded Sister Theresa couldn’t make it out.”
“How terrible!” Dora cried. “How to get into the rock house is the very thing we need to know.”
“Well, at least we know there is a secret entrance,” Mary told them. “Isn’t there any more of the translation, Jerry?”
The cowboy had turned a page. He nodded. “Yes, here’s something but I reckon it won’t help much. There are only a few words.” He read, “Find money—walled in—turquoise eye.” Jerry looked from one to the other and said, “That’s all. Doesn’t help out much, does it?”
Mary took the letter. “Here’s a note at the bottom. Sister Theresa wrote, ‘I am sorry I could not make out the entire message. I do hope this much will aid you in finding the money if it has not been stole
n.’”
“Well,” Dick was looking along the base of the almost perpendicular cliff on which the rock house stood, “I vote we start in hunting for a secret entrance.”
“O. K.,” Harry said. “Let’s divide our forces, one going to the right and the other to the left.”
Jerry, as though it were the natural thing to do, said to Etta, “Shall we go this way?”
Mary turned and started in the opposite direction. Harry was quick to follow her. Dora and Dick remained standing directly under the rock house. Dora said, “I’m puzzled! Not about the secret entrance but about Mary and Jerry.”
“Oh, that’ll come out all right.” It was plain that Dick wasn’t giving romance much thought, for he added, “I’m going in between the main cliff and this broken off piece.”
Dora, going to his side, peered into the crack. The winds of many years had blown sand into it. She was surprised to see Dick start pulling the sand away from the wall.
“Have you a hunch?” she asked with interest.
“No, not really,” he told her. Then remarked, “Wish I had a shovel.”
“You may have one,” Dora said, “if you want to go back to the road. I saw a shovel and an axe fastened under the Deputy Sheriff’s car.”
Jerry and Etta, having found nothing, were returning.
“What are you uncovering, Dick?” the cowboy called.
“Say, fetch a shovel, will you?” was the answer he received. “Dora says there’s one under the ‘Dep’s’ car.”
“Righto.” The cowboy’s long legs carried him rapidly toward the rock gate. He had returned with the shovel just as Mary and Harry came up. They had found nothing that could possibly be a secret entrance.
“What’s your reasoning, Dick, old man?” Jerry asked as he handed him the shovel.
“Well, there’s something here that caught and held the sand,” Dick replied. “It may not be what we’re looking for but I’m curious to know what it is.”
The Girl Detective Megapack: 25 Classic Mystery Novels for Girls Page 289