by Shari Barr
A half hour later, Miss Val and Sydney had dressed in their old-fashioned dresses and bonnets at Silver Dollar City. After they began their basket demonstration, McKenzie took off for the nearest woodcrafting shop.
Crowds of people meandered through the old-time streets. McKenzie’s mouth watered at the smell of fudge and saltwater taffy coming from the candy shop. Promising herself to come back later and sample the goodies, she hurried into the first woodcrafter’s shop. Tons of beautiful items filled the shop, but nothing looked like Reggie Ford’s work.
Sighing with disappointment, she continued down the street. She stepped into the general store to look for souvenirs. Displays of T-shirts and baseball caps lined one end of the store. After looking through the assortment, she moved through the shoppers to the jewelry display. Bracelets and necklaces made from polished rocks gleamed in the light. As she browsed through the display, a gold chain caught her eye. A delicate carved wooden medallion hung from it.
It’s a fairy, McKenzie thought anxiously. This looks like Shara’s necklace. She grabbed the necklace and turned it over. The initials carved on the back were “SS.”
Clutching the necklace in her hand, she considered the price tag. If she didn’t buy a new T-shirt as she’d planned to do, she’d have enough money to pay for it. She stepped to the cash register and made her purchase.
“Do you know the artist who carved this?” she asked the young woman behind the counter.
The woman tucked a strand of hair back under her blue bonnet and took the necklace. She peered closely at the engravings on the back. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know the artist.”
“Is there someone here who would know?” McKenzie pleaded. “It’s very important.”
The woman looked questioningly at McKenzie. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go ask the manager.”
McKenzie watched her disappear into the back room, silently praying that the manager would have some information. A minute later, a middle-aged woman approached the counter.
“So, you’re looking for the artist who carved this necklace,” the woman said as she handed McKenzie a small sheet of paper. “He does great work, doesn’t he? I don’t have his name or address. He doesn’t even advertise his work. In fact, he seems to keep to himself a lot—a strange way to do business, if you ask me. But I do have a post office box number for him. Maybe you can contact him that way.”
McKenzie took the paper and thanked the woman. A rack of postcards on the counter gave her an idea. She quickly chose and paid for a card and postage stamp. Borrowing a pen from the clerk, she scribbled a note on the back:
Dear Mr. Ford,
Your niece, Shara, is looking for you. She misses you and wants to see you again.
Please look for her in downtown Branson on Thursday. She will be parading around town wearing her hoop skirts.
Sincerely,
McKenzie Phillips
McKenzie wished she could write more, but there wasn’t room. I need to mail this as soon as possible, she thought. She addressed the postcard and stuck the stamp in the corner. She hurried over to the post office inside the general store and handed the card to the postmaster.
“Hey, I found you,” a familiar voice cried out behind her.
Turning around, she saw Sydney making her way through the crowd of shoppers. “I thought you were helping Miss Val.”
“We finished our basket-weaving demonstration. I’m on break for twenty minutes now. I’m dying for a smoothie. Want one?”
“Sure,” McKenzie agreed as they headed for the refreshment stand.
While the girls stood in line, McKenzie pulled her new necklace from the bag and showed it to Sydney. Then she filled her in on the information she had learned from the manager and the postcard she’d sent to Mr. Ford.
A few minutes later, the girls carried their strawberry smoothies to a shady bench outside the general store.
“I hope he gets the card in time to meet Shara on Thursday,” McKenzie said.
“At least we know the artist lives in Branson. We’re getting a little closer to solving the mystery.” Sydney handed the necklace back to McKenzie.
McKenzie looped the chain about her neck and sipped her drink. She felt a little sorry for Sydney. At least when she had to wear hoop skirts, she was in an air-conditioned theater. Sydney pulled her dress up over her knees, fanning her legs with the skirt.
“Hey, pioneer girls don’t act like that,” McKenzie teased. “Somebody will see your undies.”
Sydney giggled with embarrassment and flung her dress back down. “I’m wearing shorts, I’ll have you know.”
With a loud slurping noise, McKenzie sucked the last of the drink out of her cup and tossed it into a trash can.
“I’d better get back to work. My break is about over,” Sydney said, standing.
“I’m going to stop at the kettle corn shop,” McKenzie said. “I need to stock up on munchies.”
“If you have time, come see me in the candy shop. They’re short on workers, so I get to help out. How lucky can I get? Maybe I can be the tester,” Sydney said with a giggle. “If they have any rejects, I’ll save you some.”
“Okay,” McKenzie answered. “I’ll be over there in a few minutes. I need some saltwater taffy to take home.”
Sydney hurried along the street. McKenzie headed toward the kettle corn booth, but before she got far, someone cried out, “Miss, miss!”
Turning, she saw the manager from the general store. The woman pointed through the window at a shop across the street. “See that man in the brown T-shirt who just walked out of the candle shop? I’m sure he’s the artist you’re looking for.”
McKenzie stared in amazement at the woman. “Oh, thank you,” she said as she hurried through the doorway, nearly bumping into an elderly woman.
McKenzie raced down the street, jumping up and down trying to see above the crowd.
Where is he? she thought anxiously. Then she saw a brown T-shirt in the midst of the tourists.
There he is!
He ambled down the street.
I don’t want to lose him!
She darted into the crowd that had gathered to watch a group of pioneers square-dance in the street. With her eyes trained on the man in the brown shirt, she bumped into a pioneer man playing a fiddle. A firm hand gripped her arm from behind, pulling her backward.
She jerked her head around as a low voice cried out, “You’re coming with me, young lady!”
The Ghost Rider
Spinning around, McKenzie looked into the eyes of a man with a long, bushy brown beard. He tugged her to the front of the crowd, next to the group of dancers and the fiddle player.
For the first time, she noticed other tourists square-dancing, or rather, trying to. A gray-haired man wearing plaid shorts with socks and sandals kicked his legs high. His pioneer partner linked arms with him and swung him around, her skirts flying. A woman in a spotless white pantsuit with large, glittery jewelry clasped her hand to her neck as a young pioneer man pulled her into the action.
“Come on, lass,” the bushy-bearded man said to McKenzie, pulling her to the dance floor.
McKenzie felt her face grow warm. She groaned inwardly as she tried to smile. Why me? she thought miserably. There are plenty of other people to humiliate.
The man linked arms with her and swung her around the dance floor. Her feet went everywhere they weren’t supposed to go. She stepped on his feet several times, though he didn’t seem to notice. She grew dizzy as he handed her off to another man. He in turn swung her around and handed her off again.
The onlookers clapped in rhythm as the dancers spun about. Finally the fiddle player stopped. Applause and cheers rang out from the crowd. She swept her hair out of her eyes and felt sweat dripping down her neck. The pioneer dancers scrambled into another routine as the music started up again.
McKenzie used the opportunity to disappear. She put her head down and darted through the crowd, suddenly remembering where she had be
en headed.
I lost Mr. Ford, she thought with disappointment, glancing about for the man in the brown T-shirt. I’ll never find him now.
She quickly made her way to the candy shop. Sydney stood behind the counter helping a pioneer woman make peanut brittle. Her apron was speckled with brown stains. A group of people gathered around watching them.
“Where have you been?” Sydney asked, stirring a large pot of sticky golden goo. “Did you get lost?”
McKenzie leaned toward her friend and whispered, “I saw the artist who signs his name with ‘SS,’ but he got away.”
Sydney stopped stirring for a moment and stared at McKenzie. “You’re kidding. He was here at Silver Dollar City?”
“The manager at the general store pointed him out to me,” McKenzie explained. “But when I tried to follow him, I got caught up in a square dance and lost him.”
“A square dance?” Sydney asked with a smirk. “You’ll have to tell me about that one later.”
The candy woman nudged Sydney. “Keep stirring, honey. We don’t want scorched peanut brittle.”
Sydney grabbed the long-handled paddle with both hands, stirring in a circular motion.
McKenzie jumped when her cell phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and recognized the number on the screen. “Hi, Kate. What’s up?”
“I’ve Googled Reggie Ford but haven’t found a thing. But I finally got ahold of the manager at the Treasure Trove for you. She said she doesn’t know a whole lot about him. He lives out in the hills somewhere around Branson and doesn’t advertise his business. All she gave me was a post office box number.”
“I’ve been looking around the woodcraft shops here at Silver Dollar City and one of the stores gave me his PO Box number, too. I just now sent him a postcard, telling him where to find Shara. Hopefully, if he’s actually her uncle, he’ll look her up,” McKenzie said, moving away from the crowd in order to hear better.
“The manager told me one more thing,” Kate said. “He’s a real loner. He never tells anyone his name. All he goes by is the ‘Shara Smiles’ man.”
“You’re kidding!” McKenzie almost shouted into the phone. “Then he really is her uncle! We just have to find out where he lives.”
“Keep all of us Camp Club Girls posted on anything you find out about him. If God wants us to find this guy, He’ll help us do it,” Kate said before hanging up. “And I think He will—one clue at a time.”
McKenzie glanced at Sydney, who was busy with the candy demonstration. Waving to get her attention, McKenzie gave her a thumbs-up. “I’ve got news!”
“Meet me at Miss Val’s shop,” Sydney called over the crowd. “I’ll be done here in a few minutes.”
McKenzie went to the saltwater taffy bins. She filled a bag with an assortment of her favorites— strawberry, raspberry, and candy corn flavors. After paying for it, she made a purchase at the kettle corn booth. Then she headed back to the basket shop.
Soon Sydney arrived. McKenzie filled her in on Kate’s phone call as they chewed pieces of taffy. “Surely someone knows where Mr. Ford lives,” Sydney said.
“Hopefully he’ll get the postcard I sent him before Thursday. He’ll surely look Shara up. I should have given him her cell number, but I didn’t even think of it,” McKenzie said, popping another piece of taffy in her mouth.
McKenzie watched the basket demonstration come to an end. Miss Val stood and approached the girls. “Sydney, you can go change. I have to work another hour and a half. Why don’t you two go on some of the rides and have a little fun.”
“Great!” Sydney jumped up, whisking off her apron and bonnet. “I’ll go change and be right back.”
McKenzie carried her bags into Miss Val’s office and tucked them onto a shelf. Moments later Sydney arrived, wearing bright shorts and a striped tank top.
“Let’s ride the PowderKeg,” McKenzie said, tugging Sydney after her as she zoomed through the crowds on the streets.
The girls arrived breathless at the roller coaster and only had a short line before they climbed into the waiting car.
Ka-chunk! The ride lunged forward so quickly that McKenzie’s head banged against the headrest. Her stomach lurched as the car twisted and spiraled along the tracks. Shrieks filled the air. The bravest riders stuck their arms high in the air, but McKenzie clung to the handlebar.
The roller coaster climbed to a dizzying height. McKenzie squeezed her eyes shut for a minute but opened them as the car plunged down the other side of the track. She screamed when her bottom lifted off the seat.
As quickly as the ride began, it was over. McKenzie swept her hair from her face and stood on shaky knees.
“Wow, that was great!” Sydney cried, jumping from the car. “Want to do it again?”
McKenzie groaned as she stumbled through the exit gate. “Not yet or I’ll launch my lunch.”
“Okay.” Sydney laughed. “Let’s get a cold drink and cool off in some of the shops, since they’re air conditioned.”
After buying bottles of flavored water, the girls stepped into the closest shop. Candles of every style, color, and scent lined the shelves. A woman in a pioneer dress dipped wicks in a hot vat of wax as onlookers gathered.
“Mmm. My mom would love one of these candles.” McKenzie sniffed a green candle with flowers carved into it. “I think I’ll get it for her.”
She pulled her change from her pocket and handed it to the woman behind the counter. A nametag on her blue calico dress read TESSA.
“Sydney, after we’re done here, let’s check out some more shops.”
As Tessa handed McKenzie her change, the woman’s bracelet caught her attention. A tiny wooden medallion hung from a silver chain.
McKenzie gasped. “May I see your bracelet, please?”
The woman smiled and held her arm out for the girls to admire. Sydney touched the medallion and turned it over. “McKenzie, look. It has ‘SS’ carved on it!”
Tessa’s smile suddenly disappeared as she dropped her arm. She tugged the long sleeve of her pioneer dress over the bracelet and turned away.
“Next,” she said to the customer behind McKenzie.
“Where did you get that?” McKenzie asked, still standing at the counter.
“I don’t remember,” Tessa said, glancing at McKenzie. “I’m too busy to talk right now.” Turning to next her customer, she continued, “Will there be anything else, ma’am?”
McKenzie sighed and picked up her bag. Leaving the shop, she turned to Sydney. “What was that all about? She was eager to show us her bracelet until I asked her where she got it.”
Sydney shrugged her shoulders. “She sure didn’t want to talk about it.”
McKenzie’s phone rang, signaling a text message. The girls slid onto a shaded bench while McKenzie flipped the phone open.
“Elizabeth was just wondering if we had any new clues yet,” she said after reading the message. “I’m going to call her real quickly.”
Elizabeth answered immediately, and McKenzie told her about the clerk wearing the carved bracelet. “I wonder if I should try to talk to her again.”
“The woman may know Mr. Ford and could be protecting him for some reason,” Liz said. “I wouldn’t try talking to her again—not yet, anyway. Proverbs 16:23 says, ‘A wise man’s heart guides his mouth, and his lips promote instruction.’”
“Thanks, Liz. I’ll try to remember that,” McKenzie said before hanging up.
The girls sipped their water as they walked toward the basket shop. They stopped in several woodcrafting shops but saw no more signs of Reggie Ford’s work.
“Why don’t we ask the chief woodworker if he knows Mr. Ford?” McKenzie glanced at a man wearing a dirty canvas apron in the rear of the shop.
“Do you know him?” Sydney asked, following her friend down the aisle.
“Miss Val introduced me to him the other day. He’s really nice.” McKenzie waved to the man when he glanced her way.
“Hey, McKenzie. How’s it go
ing?” he asked, shuffling a large wooden giraffe into a corner of the shop.
“Great,” she answered, pulling Sydney forward. “This is my friend Sydney. Sydney, this is Ted Jones.”
Mr. Jones vigorously shook Sydney’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I think I’ve seen you helping Miss Val in the basket shop, haven’t I?”
“Yes,” Sydney said. “This is the coolest job I’ve ever had. I’ve met so many nice people.”
Mr. Jones nodded. “Meeting people is one of the best parts of this job. I’ve met all kinds.”
“Do you know lots of woodworkers around Branson, Mr. Jones?” McKenzie asked eagerly.
“Sure do.” He grabbed a broom and swept up a pile of wood shavings on the floor of the demonstration area. “Why do you ask?”
“Do you know a man named Reggie Ford?” McKenzie asked. “He makes beautiful carvings. Fairies are his specialty.”
Mr. Jones leaned on the handle of his broom. He thought for a minute and then shook his head. “Reggie Ford, hmmm. Can’t recall that I’ve ever heard of him, but I wish I did know him. I could use a new intern around here. My assistant moved out of state, and I’m short on help right now.”
McKenzie sighed with disappointment. Why do we see Mr. Ford’s carvings but nobody knows him? This is weird.
“I’m sorry I can’t help you,” Mr. Jones continued. “Is it important that you find him?”
McKenzie nodded. “He’s our friend’s long-lost uncle. She hasn’t seen him in years.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Mr. Jones said, looking sympathetic. “I’ll ask around about him. If I find out anything I’ll let you know.”
The girls thanked Mr. Jones and headed toward the basket shop. Miss Val was ready to leave, so McKenzie grabbed her purchases from the office, and they all headed to the parking lot.
Back at Miss Val’s house, McKenzie spotted a package at the back door.
“It’s for you,” Miss Val said, handing it to her.