The Mystery of Rainbow Gulch

by Norvin Pallas

  “These people perhaps knew that a little girl would be welcome here, and would be well provided for?”

  “Possibly, Ted,” said Mr. Fontaine, frowning. “I’d like to believe it was so. But we certainly didn’t know her parents, or the little girl either, so how could they know very much about us? It seems more likely that they just picked us at random, and abandoned her.”

  “You don’t know that the people who abandoned her were her parents?”

  “They must have been, Ted, or at least people that Tony had come to regard as her parents. She cried for days, calling for her mother and father, but gradually she has come to look upon us as her parents. She knows that she’s not our real daughter, and that we are trying to adopt her. But we never talk about the past to her, nor can we tell how much she remembers.”

  “She seems to be a happy, healthy child,” Ted observed.

  “I hope so, Ted. We’ve tried to do our best, but it’s one of those things you can never be quite sure about.”

  “What attempts were made to find her parents?”

  “Well, our police department did its best, of course. I think we can rule out any possibility of kidnapping, for the alarm would certainly have reached the department. The people who abandoned her must have been her real parents, or people who had legal custody of her, and they must have known that their tracks were so well covered they couldn’t be found unless they were caught while they were leaving her.

  “Anyway, the police failed to discover anything. I suppose Tony’s description was flashed to other police departments all over the country, but the chances are they did nothing except to try to match her description against their own missing persons reports. They have enough to do about problems closer to home. Nothing ever came of it.”

  “The newspapers?” Ted questioned, knowing that this was the matter Mr. Fontaine wanted to consult him about.

  “Our city paper carried an account of it. What happened beyond that I don’t know. Perhaps you would have a better idea about it than I would.”

  “Well, once it was in print the story would certainly have been available to any other papers that wanted it. I imagine it went out over the wire, but how many papers picked up the story is a question. Was there a picture?”

  “Yes, there was in the local paper.”

  “I hate to admit it, but a particularly appealing picture might be the decisive thing with many city editors. Many of them would simply run it on the picture page with a short paragraph underneath; otherwise they might not touch it at all. Did you get much of a response?”

  “Nothing came to me directly. A few letters may have gone to the police, but nothing of value.”

  “Then the chances are that your story wasn’t circulated very far, or there would probably have been a flood of inquiries and tips.”

  Mr. Fontaine said after a moment of thought, “Well, that’s in the past. My immediate problem is adopting her. For myself, I don’t really care to know much about Tony’s parents, who were probably incompetents anyway. I’m willing to take her exactly as she is. But I have to consider whether I am being quite fair with her.

  “Emotionally speaking, it may some day become very important for her to know more about her parents, especially if she does retain some memories of them about which she has been unable to speak so far. Then there is the financial possibility of an inheritance of some sort, to which she would no longer be entitled if she were adopted. And there is always the possibility of her parents turning up once more and making trouble in some way.

  “But my real problem is the fear that something may happen to interfere with the adoption,” Mr. Fontaine said with a frown.

  “Do you have any reason to expect difficulties?” Ted questioned.

  “All I can say for sure is that things are moving along much more slowly than I should like. I know there has to be an investigation of the adopting parents, but that’s a mere formality in a small community where everyone knows everyone else. I was hoping to get this thing straightened out before September when I planned to enter Tony in school, but it looks now as though that may not happen. Last night I received a telephone call from Mr. Kerch, our county clerk. If it had been good news I think he would have told me over the phone, but instead he said he was coming out to see me this morning. I’m very much afraid that some sort of hitch or delay has occurred, or even that we may lose Tony altogether. I would only be willing to give her up to her real parents, if they could show that they were not responsible for what happened and could provide properly for her—but not to anyone else.”

  “I can see where things would be much easier for you if you had the consent of her parents to her adoption, or even if you knew something more about her background,” said Ted thoughtfully.

  “Yes, and that leads me to wonder if I have done everything I possibly could to trace her parents. The police have given up but maybe I should hire a private investigator. However, the expense would probably be more than I could handle and the results very uncertain. That leaves the newspapers. Your brother works on a big paper, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, but that’s a thousand miles away in a city which so far as we know has no connection at all with Tony. Still, he might be able to work up a story, and other papers might pick it up, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

  “No, it isn’t what I want at all, Ted. I don’t believe in making a public display of one’s private troubles, and I would much prefer to forget the whole thing. But if it came down to the question of keeping Tony or losing her, then I would be willing to do anything. I’ll talk this over with you again, Ted.”

  A car was pulling into the drive, and Mr. Fontaine identified the driver as Mr. Kerch. The clerk shook hands with Mr. Fontaine, and was introduced to Ted, then looked somewhat questioningly at the boy.

  “Don’t go away, Ted,” Mr. Fontaine urged him. “I’ve just been discussing the case with him, as he has newspaper connections which I felt might possibly be useful. Is there any news? The court hasn’t turned down our petition, has it?”

  “No, not turned it down exactly. Let’s just say that it’s been postponed. I suppose you’ll get Tony in the end, but it may mean a dirty court battle, and I know that’s something you have no liking for.”

  “You still haven’t told me who it is that’s forcing this battle on us, Blake,” Mr. Fontaine pointed out. “It’s difficult to fight for Tony if I don’t know whom I’m fighting against.”

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to say just yet, but it’ll be a matter of public record eventually. Anyway, the demurrer objecting to the adoption was filed by Mrs. Manners.”

  “Mrs. Manners!” Mr. Fontaine almost shouted.

  “That’s right.” Mr. Kerch seemed anxious to leave, and got back into the car. “I thought I’d better let you know how things stood. But you can count on it, Rob, that I will do everything I can for you.”

  He drove off, and Mr. Fontaine meditated in silence for a few moments.

  “Mrs. Manners—I just can’t believe it. She’s a neighbor of ours,” he went on to explain, “and as far as I know she has always been friendly to us. Tony certainly isn’t their daughter, and if she’s any relative of theirs, they should have claimed her long ago. I hardly think she has any real claim to Tony. Apparently she just wants to make trouble for us, although I can’t imagine why.”

  He studied the matter, then said slowly, “I think the best thing would be to drive over and talk to Mrs. Manners right now. I like to handle things directly when I can. If Mrs. Manners really has justice on her side, then I want to make things right with her. But if she’s simply determined to make trouble, at least we’ll know where we stand. Come along if you want to, Ted. If I need your help later, it may be just as well for you to know as much about matters as you can.”

  The Manners farm was only a few miles away, which made them practically neighbors in their rural community. Mr. Fontaine pointed out their fields as they approached.

  “The
y were planted this spring, but seem to be lying in a state of neglect ever since. I’ve heard that Mr. Manners has been having a good deal of trouble keeping his hired help.”

  When they knocked on the door, Mrs. Manners answered.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed when she saw who it was.

  “May we come in, Mrs. Manners?”

  “Well, all right, but only for a minute,” she answered ungraciously. “I’m very busy just now.” She turned and led the way into the living room.

  “Mrs. Manners,” Mr. Fontaine began after they were seated, “I’ve come to talk to you about my daughter Tony.”

  “Your daughter?” said Mrs. Manners scornfully.

  “Well, of course we’ve never made any secret about the circumstances. You know as much about that as I do.”

  “I don’t see that there’s anything about Tony for you to discuss with me.”

  “I shouldn’t have thought so either until this morning when Mr. Kerch informed me that you had entered a demurrer objecting to our adopting her.”

  “Mr. Kerch has no right to say anything!” she answered shrilly. “He told me he would keep my name out of it if he could.”

  “Why would you want your name kept out of it, Mrs. Manners? Are you doing something you’re ashamed of?”

  “Certainly not,” but she turned her eyes away.

  “I’m sure, Mrs. Manners,” said Mr. Fontaine, his quiet tone contrasting sharply with her raised voice, “that you must have some reason for objecting to our adopting Tony.”

  “Yes, I have.” She flung her head up sharply. “Since Mr. Kerch has broken his promise to me, I’ll tell you right now. I want Tony myself.”

  “But you hardly know her,” he objected, very much puzzled.

  “I’ve seen her quite a few times, and I’ve grown very fond of her. I mean to adopt her as my own daughter.”

  “But Mrs. Manners, if you felt this way about it, why didn’t you do something about it long ago?”

  “I have done something. I always intended in my mind that I would do everything I could to prevent you from adopting her, and now I have. You’re one of those men, Mr. Fontaine, who has always been successful in everything you’ve tried to do. Well, this time it’s going to be different. I’ve just as much right to Tony as you have, and I mean to have her. It’s about time for you to learn that there are other people in the world who are entitled to a little happiness, too.”

  She looked wildly at them, until suddenly her spirit seemed to collapse, and she began to weep softly.

  CHAPTER 5.

  A VISIT TO HOP ALONG

  It was obvious that Mrs. Manners had lost all control of herself, and Mr. Fontaine said soothingly, “I’m very sorry you’ve been unhappy, Mrs. Manners, but I can’t believe taking Tony away from us will make you happy.”

  She did not reply, and feeling that it was useless to try to reason with her just then, Mr. Fontaine said, “Is your husband at home, Mrs. Manners? Perhaps if I could talk with him, we could straighten this out between us.”

  “No, he’s been away for several weeks. But it wouldn’t do you any good to talk to him. He feels exactly the same as I do about this. He wants to adopt Tony, too, and told me to go ahead. I think you’d better leave now.”

  At the door they said good morning, but she did not respond, and closed the door heavily after them. Slowly they walked to the car and got in.

  “That certainly was queer,” Mr. Fontaine remarked. “I never expected anything like that. I suppose she hasn’t been feeling well, but that hardly accounts for such an outburst. I’d ask my wife to stop over and see her, but that would be a pretty presumptuous thing to do, as long as Mrs. Manners is trying to get Tony away from us.”

  “Do you think she can do anything, Mr. Fontaine?”

  “If she has any real claim to Tony, she certainly didn’t say so. I imagine she can’t do anything except cause us a lot of trouble. But I don’t like it, especially right now. Tony is about old enough to understand something of what’s going on.”

  “I thought that Mrs. Manners might be jealous because your farm seems to be so much better than theirs.”

  “That might be part of the trouble. Actually, their land is just as good as ours, if they would build it up and take care of it. But Mr. Manners isn’t a farmer or rancher by trade. I believe he inherited this farm, and he’s never quite made a go of it. He seems to be always flitting about, set on one get-rich-quick scheme or another. I don’t suppose Mrs. Manners has had a very easy time of things.”

  “I didn’t see anyone around, Mr. Fontaine. Is she trying to run that big farm herself?”

  “The way things look, it doesn’t seem like anybody’s running things. They’re down to about three or four head of cattle, I believe. Mrs. Manners must be taking care of them, and that’s about all there is. I feel sorry for these people, but if they can’t take care of a farm, how do they expect to take care of Tony?”

  As they approached their farm, Mr. Fontaine said, “Let’s keep this just between ourselves, shall we, Ted? I’ll have to tell my wife and Bob sometime, and I’ll do it in my own time and in my own way. I want to pretend there’s nothing wrong, at least until I’ve had a chance to talk with Mr. Manners. I doubt that he’s as enthusiastic about this adoption as his wife is. At least I may be able to reason with him.”

  “Of course, Mr. Fontaine,” Ted promised.

  As they arrived, Bob and Nelson came out of the house, having just had breakfast. Bob apparently was happy that he had had a reasonable excuse for getting out of morning chores, and Nelson announced himself glad for a little extra shut-eye.

  “Where did you go, Ted?” he asked.

  “Oh, Mr. Fontaine was showing me some of the other farms around here,” said Ted, which was true as far as it went.

  Bob had work to do, but told them they could ride into Hopalong with him that afternoon, which he seemed to regard as a treat. Ted and Nelson helped out a little with the work when they could and tried to stay out of the way the rest of the time. In the middle of the afternoon they cleaned up and set out for town, with Bob at the wheel of his father’s car.

  “I’ve got some shopping to do, and that’ll give us a chance to look around and see who’s in town and what everybody’s doing. Almost everybody that can comes in about the time the train’s due. The bus comes in, too, not long after, and that often brings visitors.” He spoke as though visitors for his neighbors would be almost as much of a treat as visitors for themselves.

  “Where do most people around here do their shopping—I mean for things like clothing?” Ted inquired.

  “Well, the general store has a pretty good selection, and it will order something for you if you want it. Of course a lot of people around here order from mail-order houses. That keeps them going from week to week, but once or twice a year most people manage a shopping spree at one of the larger cities or towns. Why?”

  “Oh, I was wondering about those footprints we found near the plane.”

  “The footprints of a giant?” Bob laughed. “Well, anyway, a pretty heavy man.”

  “They had an odd shape and I was wondering if the person who made the footprints might have bought his shoes right here at the general store.”

  “Hm, it’s possible,” Bob admitted, “except that if anybody that heavy came into town, everybody would know about it. But maybe he isn’t really as heavy as you think. We can inquire at the store if you want to.”

  After Bob had ordered the supplies he had come for, Ted asked about the shoes. The proprietor, Mr. Collins, tried to be helpful, but the more Ted tried to describe the queer shape of the shoes, the more confused Mr. Collins seemed to get. Finally Ted got out a pencil and paper, and as soon as he drew the pattern of the shoes, Mr. Collins said:

  “Oh, now I know what you mean. Yes, I do handle shoes like that, or rather, they’re more of a half-boot. They were unloaded on me some time ago by a fast-talking salesman who assured me they were going over well in other places
. I don’t know about that, but the style never caught on around here. Wait, I’ve got a pair to show you.”

  He brought out a pair, and Ted and Nelson saw at once that shoes like these could very easily have made the prints they had seen. The shoes were nearly straight on the inside edge, with an exaggerated curve on the outside. Possibly they were comfortable, but they didn’t look like much.

  “Is this the pair you wanted?” asked Mr. Collins hopefully.

  “No, I didn’t want them for myself. I was just wondering if you had sold a pair like that recently.”

  “I haven’t sold a pair of them since—I think it must have been about two months ago,” said the proprietor, putting the shoes away.

  “Do you remember who bought them?” asked Bob.

  “Certainly I do, because the notion came to me that nobody except José would ever buy shoes like that.”

  “Can you tell us what size he bought?” questioned Bob eagerly.

  “Yes, I can do that, too. They were size eleven.”

  “Isn’t that too large for him? He’s not a big person.”

  “I know, I tried to tell him, but you know how hard it is to tell him anything.”

  The boys thanked Mr. Collins and left the store.

  “José is a deaf mute,” Bob explained to the others. “He can’t hear, except maybe just a little, and he doesn’t talk at all, though some people think he could if he wanted to. The fathers up at the mission school taught him to read, but most of the time he pretends he can’t do that either. You can figure out how hard it is to get an idea across to him, especially if he doesn’t want to understand.”