McKenzie’s Branson Brainteaser

by Shari Barr

  Miss Ambruster flashed a grin. “Of course. No southern lady would ride an ostrich.”

  The wardrobe woman left McKenzie to look through the rack of gray jackets. She tried on several and found one that fit. She glanced up as the door to the wardrobe room opened, and her Showcase partner, Nick, stepped in.

  “Hi, McKenzie. I hear I have a new partner today. Too bad,” he said with a grin. “But you’ll have fun with the ostrich.”

  “If I don’t get thrown off on my head,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

  “You’ll do fine,” he said. “Hey, have you seen Miss Ambruster?”

  McKenzie pointed to the back of the room. “She’s pressing some pants for me.”

  Nick headed over to the dark-haired woman. “Miss Ambruster,” he said, “I just noticed I’m missing one of the buttons on my jacket. Can you help me out?”

  McKenzie bolted to attention at his words. She noticed the two rows of brass buttons down the front of his jacket. They were identical to the one she had found in the parking lot the night she saw the mystery rider!

  Could Nick be the person who rides at night and changes the flags? McKenzie wondered.

  Miss Ambruster’s gaze went from Nick’s head to his toes. “What in the world happened to your pants, Nick? I cleaned and pressed those for you this morning.”

  Nick shrugged. “I don’t know. They looked like this when I took them off the hanger.”

  Miss Ambruster took the jacket and examined it. “This isn’t even your jacket. Someone switched outfits on you.”

  McKenzie listened as Miss Ambruster presented Nick with a different costume. “There’s no way you’re wearing that costume in the performance,” the woman said with frustration.

  Miss Ambruster then asked McKenzie to slip into the dressing room to change into the Confederate pants. Her thoughts kept going back to Nick. Was he the mystery rider, or was the person who borrowed his uniform the guilty person? I can’t just go and ask him if he’s the mystery rider.

  “How do the pants fit?” Miss Ambruster called through the door.

  Stepping out of the room, McKenzie noticed that Nick had left. “Perfect,” she answered and headed out the door to wait for her part of the performance.

  Time passed quickly, and soon the moment arrived for McKenzie to climb on the back of Olive, the ostrich. The ostrich race was a fun rivalry, pitting the North against the South. McKenzie’s job was to race her ostrich for the Confederates, or the South. Ben, a boy she knew slightly, wore a blue uniform and was racing for the Yankees, or the North.

  The large door to the arena opened, and Olive darted through. McKenzie clung to her back, trying to keep from falling off. Olive’s spindly legs plodded the ground, bouncing McKenzie up and down. I hope this ostrich knows what she’s doing, McKenzie thought, peering around Olive’s long, skinny neck.

  The crowd roared with laughter as she and Ben raced around the course. She dug her heels into Olive’s side, trying to spur her to go faster, like she did with her horse, Sahara, back home.

  Ben pulled ahead and quickly crossed the finish line. McKenzie, however, plodded along on Olive’s back. I think Olive knows I don’t know what I’m doing, McKenzie thought. This ostrich is going to make a fool of me. I just know it!

  The moment those words flitted through her mind, Olive spun around. McKenzie clutched the ostrich’s gangly neck as it veered toward the show ring fence. Olive picked up speed and flung McKenzie from her back.

  McKenzie sailed through the air and landed on the ground with a thud. She looked up as Olive trotted toward the finish line like a good little ostrich.

  McKenzie felt her face growing warm, but the crowd roared with applause as they jumped to their feet.

  I’m getting a standing ovation for being dumped off an ostrich, McKenzie thought.

  “Are you okay?” A boy in a Yankee uniform raced to her side.

  She nodded shyly as she let him help her to her feet.

  “Take a bow,” he whispered in her ear. “Act like it was all planned.”

  She did as he said and bowed toward the spectators of the South. Then she turned and bowed to the northerners. The crowd laughed and cheered as the boy pulled McKenzie out of the arena.

  For the first time since she started working for the Dixie Showcase, McKenzie couldn’t wait to change her clothes and leave.

  “I’ve been thinking,” McKenzie said to Miss Val and Sydney after returning home. “Could we rent some mountain bikes while you go out for supper with your friend? Then we can look for that place up in the hills where we saw the statue.”

  Miss Val thought for a moment. “These Ozark hills are killers going uphill. I have a better idea. I know a couple, Dale and Mary Taylor, who raise horses. They’re always willing to let friends take the horses out for exercise. Let me give them a call.”

  “Ooh, that sounds like fun,” Sydney said enthusiastically.

  McKenzie felt excitement ripple through her body. “I would love to go horseback riding. I really miss my horse, Sahara. I ride her almost every day at home. I know I ride at the Showcase, but it’s not the same as riding around where I want.”

  “Have you ridden horses much, Sydney?” Miss Val asked, pulling into her driveway.

  “Not really,” Sydney replied. “I’ve only ridden a couple of times.”

  “It might be best if you two rode double, then.” Miss Val punched a number into her cell. “McKenzie’s our resident horse expert.”

  Within minutes Miss Val had arranged for the girls to take one of the Taylors’ horses out for the evening. After changing into blue jeans and eating a quick supper, Miss Val dropped the girls off at the Taylors’ house.

  “I’ll be back by 8:30,” Miss Val called out the open car window. “Have fun!”

  Fifteen minutes later, McKenzie and Sydney sat on the back of Jasmine, a tame and gentle brown mare.

  “Miss Val told me you girls are looking for a statue you saw while riding the Duck on the lake. There are many crafters in these hills, and several roads will take you down around the lake. The roads wind around all over, so I don’t know the route you need to take.” Mr. Taylor pointed in the direction beyond his house. “Plan to be back here before sunset. I don’t want you riding after dark.”

  The girls assured the Taylors they would be back by sunset and set off down the gravel road. Sydney held on to McKenzie’s waist as Jasmine plodded along.

  McKenzie flicked the reins and patted Jasmine’s coffee-colored neck. The horse lifted her head, letting out a soft whinny.

  “Which way?” McKenzie asked, coming to an intersection in the road.

  Sydney glanced in all three directions. “How about that one?” she asked, pointing to their right. “It seems to head downward. Maybe it will lead us to the lake.”

  McKenzie turned onto the narrow, copper-colored rock road. The thick growth of lush trees towered above them on both sides. She urged Jasmine onward, thankful for the shade the trees provided. The early evening sun was still hot, with only a little breeze to fan them.

  They passed large, beautiful homes set back on spacious lawns. An occasional run-down home sat empty and forgotten by its owners.

  “Hey, look.” Sydney pointed at a sign beside the road. It read CLYDE’S WOODCRAFTING and a handpainted arrow pointed down a narrow lane.

  “Let’s try it,” McKenzie said, urging Jasmine forward.

  Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Jasmine’s horseshoes pounded the rocky road. Soon McKenzie rounded a bend in the road and saw a neat woodshop next to a large, two-story brick home.

  “I don’t think this is the place we saw the other day,” Sydney said. “We can’t see the lake from here.”

  “I think you’re right, but maybe someone here knows the statue we’re talking about.” McKenzie slid off Jasmine’s back and looped the reins around a road sign.

  Before the girls reached the front porch, a woman stepped out of the house. “Do you girls want to visit the shop? I ca
n unlock it for you.”

  McKenzie thanked the woman but told her they were looking for the house with the statue. “We’d like to talk to the person who carved it.”

  The woman raked her hand through her long bangs. “I think I know the place you’re talking about. “Go back up the lane and take a right. Then go across the bridge and take another right. I think you’ll find the house you’re looking for.”

  The girls thanked her again and headed back to Jasmine, who was munching grass beside the post. Minutes later they crossed the bridge the woman had mentioned. About a half mile farther down the road, they saw a lane leading down to a clearing near the lake.

  “There’s the statue! I see it in the backyard,” Sydney exclaimed as they approached a ranch-style home.

  “Let’s hope somebody’s here,” McKenzie said with a flick of the reins.

  A man sitting on the front porch stood and approached the girls. His brown eyes flashed beneath a fringe of thinning white hair.

  “Hello, I’m Bob Landers,” the man said with a smile. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m McKenzie, and this is my friend Sydney. We noticed your statue the other day while we were out on the lake. Do you know the name of the person who carved it?” McKenzie asked from her perch on the saddle.

  Mr. Landers’s eyes narrowed as he scratched his head. “No, I don’t,” he said. “I got it years ago. I think the place was called Twin Falls Crafters, but I’m thinking he either went out of business or changed the name of his place.”

  “Was his name Reggie Ford? Some people called him the Shara Smiles man?” McKenzie asked, stroking Jasmine’s head.

  The man shook his head. “Neither of those names sounds familiar.”

  “Would you mind if we looked at the statue?” McKenzie asked. “The man we’re looking for whittles the initials SS on each piece.”

  “Sure,” Mr. Landers readily agreed. “Tie your horse to this tree, and we’ll go look at the statue. But actually, two figures are carved into the statue. The artist carved a pair of fairies, one standing and one kneeling. I remember he had a thing for carving twins at that time. He had quite a selection back then.”

  The girls followed the older man across the yard. The statue they had seen from the lake stood in a flowerbed surrounded by roses and lilies. A woodcrafted fairy with a delicate face and a flowing skirt held a flower on her hand. Beside it, an identical fairy knelt with a butterfly poised on her finger.

  McKenzie knelt beside the statue and pushed aside the foliage to see the carving on the base. “The initials are here,” she said, tracing her finger over the letters. “Reggie Ford carved this.”

  “I bought another carving at the same time I got this one. Over here.” Mr. Landers motioned for the girls to follow him across the yard. “My wife wanted to start a fairy garden, so we bought this small statue of twin fairies for our granddaughter when she comes to visit.”

  McKenzie knelt beside the statue sitting in the middle of a flowerbed. Surrounding it were colorful pebbles and miniature pink and yellow rose bushes. The initials SS were clearly visible on the base of that statue, too.

  Sydney peered over McKenzie’s shoulder then turned to the man. “Do you know where his shop was located?”

  He thought for a moment. “He was way back in the hills somewhere. I found the place by accident one day. He doesn’t advertise, but he had the prettiest woodworking crafts I’ve ever seen. I don’t know if I could find the place again or not.”

  “Do you have his phone number?” McKenzie asked, feeling hopeful.

  Mr. Landers shook his head. “It’s been such a long time ago. Is it important that you find him?”

  McKenzie nodded and made her way across the yard to Jasmine. “His niece is looking for him. She hasn’t seen him in years.”

  He looked thoughtfully at McKenzie. “I wish I could help you.”

  McKenzie pulled herself into the saddle and tugged Sydney on behind her. “Thank you anyway.”

  Sydney echoed her thanks. McKenzie flicked Jasmine’s reins and headed back up the lane. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the older man still standing near the lane, watching them.

  “Well, this trip didn’t do any good,” Sydney said sullenly. “How are we ever going to find Shara’s uncle?”

  McKenzie sat silently in the saddle, not knowing how to answer. The horse and riders plodded along, approaching the bridge with a shallow, narrow stream trickling beneath it. She moved to the side of the road to let a car pass. “I’d better let Jasmine drink before we head back. It’s pretty warm out here for her.”

  McKenzie guided the horse down the bank. Sydney clutched her arms tightly about her waist as Jasmine staggered around the large rocks to the stream. By the time the horse finished drinking, the sun was sinking low in the western sky. McKenzie headed back up the bank to the road. They turned at the intersection and headed toward the Taylors’.

  Soon they approached a dilapidated house with a rusty tin roof sitting in the middle of a yard full of weeds. A shed, nearly collapsed, sat beyond it.

  “I don’t remember this shack,” Sydney said.

  McKenzie looked at the old homestead. “Me neither. This is the way we came, isn’t it?”

  “I thought so,” Sydney said. “But I guess I didn’t pay a lot of attention earlier.”

  McKenzie flicked the reins, urging Jasmine up the hill. “We’ll be able to see where we are once we get to the top.”

  Once they arrived at the crest of the hill, McKenzie tugged on Jasmine’s reins, pulling her to a stop. She glanced at the winding road below her, disappearing behind a stand of trees. She saw no homes or lights anywhere. I don’t recognize any of this, McKenzie thought.

  “Uh-oh,” she stammered, a hint of worry in her voice. “Sydney, I think we’re lost!”

  “What do we do now?” Sydney asked, her voice trembling.

  A Stranger in the Dark

  McKenzie glanced about the hilltop, puzzled. She was used to country roads, so how had she managed to get lost?

  “Why don’t we turn around and go back. Then we’ll go a different way at the intersection,” McKenzie said, tugging the reins to turn Jasmine around.

  They plodded past the run-down shack and arrived at the intersection. The sun, a large orange ball, hung low in the sky, only minutes away from sinking below the horizon.

  “It’s almost sunset,” Sydney said. “We’re supposed to be back at the Taylors’ house.”

  “I know,” McKenzie said, swatting a mosquito buzzing around her head. “I don’t have their phone number, but I can call Miss Val and tell her what’s going on.”

  McKenzie pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and clicked on Miss Val’s name. “Oh, no,” she groaned. “There’s no signal. There must be too many hills.”

  “Great,” Sydney muttered. “How will we get back now?”

  McKenzie glanced around, looking for some familiar landmarks. Cattle grazed in a pasture to the left of the road. She was sure they hadn’t passed the herd earlier, or she would have remembered.

  Where is the sign leading to Clyde’s Woodcrafting Shop? she wondered. If I can find it, we can use their phone to call Miss Val or the Taylors.

  McKenzie pressed her thighs against Jasmine’s sides, flicking the reins as she guided Jasmine onward. “I must have turned too soon. I’ll go to the next intersection and see if it looks familiar.”

  The sun dropped below the horizon, engulfing the hills in gloom. The horse plodded up the next hill, following the curving road. Shadows deepened as darkness fell, and buzzing mosquitoes dive-bombed into McKenzie’s face. She slapped them away, one after another.

  “Reee-eeeer, reee-eeeer”! sang a choir of locusts in the treetops. Frogs croaked their noisy song, and an owl hooted nearby.

  “Aarrr, aarrr, aaarrr, AAARRRR!” A cry sliced through the dusk from far away in the hills.

  “Wh–wh–what was that?” Sydney stammered, throwing her arms around McKenzie’s waist
as she slid closer.

  “It’s just a coyote. He won’t hurt you,” McKenzie assured Sydney. Though she’d heard coyotes thousands of times on her family’s farm, they still gave her the creeps. Especially out here when it was almost dark and they were lost.

  She shivered despite the heat. This is the first time I’ve ever had sweat dripping off my goose bumps, she thought. She couldn’t help feeling a little ashamed that she was scared.

  “Isn’t there any traffic out here?” Sydney asked nervously. “We’ve only seen one car.”

  “Country roads don’t have a lot of traffic. It’s like this in Montana, too.” McKenzie glanced at the road beneath her. “But something is definitely not right. A road sign ahead says the gravel ends. That means this is turning into a dirt road, and we didn’t go on a dirt road earlier. We’re more lost than before.”

  Sydney moaned. “I’ll try Miss Val on my phone. Maybe we’ll get a signal now.” Sydney pulled her phone from her pocket, and after flipping it open, she muttered, “Still nothing!”

  McKenzie urged Jasmine up the dirt road. Lightning bugs flitted in the grass and in the woods, looking like millions of tiny flashing Christmas lights. Before long it would be too dark to see where they were going.

  God, please let us find the Taylors’ house, McKenzie prayed silently.

  Jasmine snorted and reared at a rabbit darting across the road in front of them, but McKenzie tugged firmly on the reins. The horse calmed down and trotted, stirring up little puffs of dust with her hooves.

  “Surely we’ll come to a house before long when this lane meets a main road,” McKenzie said, trying to convince herself they weren’t really lost.

  A rumble behind them made her move to the side of the road and pull back on Jasmine’s reins. She stopped and turned toward a glow rising from the hill behind them. Seconds later, headlights popped over the crest. Oh, thank You, God. Maybe these people will stop and help.

  A white pickup truck slowly approached, pulling up beside them. It slowed to a stop, and the window rolled down.

  “There you are,” a familiar voice cried out. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”