Mystery in Arizona

Trixie clutched her short blond curls with both hands.

“Never,” she said dolefully to her best friend, Honey Wheeler, “have I been so miserable in all the thirteen years of my life.”

Honey’s wide hazel eyes were full of sympathy. “It can’t be as bad as that,” she said. “Just what did our guidance counselor tell your parents anyway?”

“I don’t like to think about it,” Trixie moaned. They had met in the locker room of the school for a hurried conference between classes. Trixie had been longing to tell Honey the bad news ever since she had heard it the evening before, but it wasn’t something you could discuss over the phone. And she definitely had not felt like talking about it on a crowded school bus.

The girls lived on Glen Road which was about two miles from the village of Sleepyside-on-Hudson, and they traveled to and from the junior-senior high school by bus. The Wheelers and Honey’s adopted brother, Jim Frayne, lived in the Manor House, a huge estate which
included acres of rolling lawns and woodland, a big lake, and a stable of horses. It formed the western boundary of Crabapple Farm, the Beldens’ property. Honey’s luxurious home was indeed a mansion, but Trixie preferred the small white frame house where she lived with her three brothers and their parents.

The boys and girls belonged to a secret society and called themselves the B.W.G.’s, short for Bob-Whites of the Glen. Trixie’s six-year-old brother Bobby was not a member, but Brian, aged sixteen, and Mart, who was eleven months older than Trixie, were treasurer and secretary respectively. Honey was vice president and Trixie and Jim were co-presidents.

Another B.W.G. was thirteen-year-old Diana Lynch. She had entered junior high that fall with Honey and Trixie and was considered the prettiest girl in the eighth grade. She had huge violet eyes, and blue-black hair that flowed around her slim shoulders.

Honey, who had earned her nickname because of her golden-brown hair, was almost as pretty as Di and got the best marks in the class. “Oh, please, Trixie,” she begged. “The bell will ring in a minute or two. What
did
Miss Jones tell your parents?”

“It’s my marks.” Tears welled up into Trixie’s round blue eyes. “I’m not passing math and English. And
it’s all your fault, Honey Wheeler. I would have spent more time studying if I hadn’t been having such fun up at your place skiing, sledding, and skating on the lake.”

Honey smiled. “Cheer up, Trix. You’re awfully smart, really, so if you study hard you can bring your marks up before the midyears.”

“That’s just it,” Trixie moaned. “That’s just what I’ll have to do: study like mad from now on. Oh, don’t you see, Honey? It means that if Di’s uncle does ask us to spend the Christmas holidays at his dude ranch, I won’t be able to go. I’ll have to stay home and bone like a regular old bookworm!”

Honey gasped. “Not go to Arizona? Oh, Trixie! You’ll have to go. The rest of us wouldn’t have any fun without you.”

The bell rang then and they hurried upstairs to join the boys and girls who were milling in the corridors. As miserable as she was, Trixie could still laugh at herself. It wasn’t really Honey’s fault, of course, and neither could she blame it on the weather. A cold snap during the Thanksgiving holidays had turned the Wheelers’ lake into a smooth sheet of ice; a week later a snowstorm had blanketed the hills and slopes making them ideal for skiing and tobogganing. Trixie had spent
every minute she could out in the crisp, cold air, which meant that at night she was too tired and sleepy to study.

So now, with the beginning of the Christmas holidays only a week away, she felt miserable instead of glad. Everyone else would be having fun while she was at home trying to figure out participles and fractions. Frowning, she followed Honey into class.

And
, she reflected as she slid into her seat,
I have only myself to blame
.

“Don’t look so blue,” whispered Honey from across the aisle. “We may not go to Arizona after all.”

But Trixie knew that they
would
go and leave her behind. A month ago when Di’s Uncle Monty had asked them to spend the holidays at his dude ranch it had seemed too good to be true. Then he verified the invitation in a letter to Di’s mother, who was his younger sister. But he hadn’t set any definite date and three weeks had elapsed, to the dismay of the Bob-Whites, without his mentioning the proposed visit.

Only yesterday Di had said worriedly, “Maybe Uncle Monty has changed his mind. He seemed to want us when he was here last month but now I’m not so sure.”

“A lot of things could have happened since his
visit,” Honey had said. “Christmas is a very busy time at dude ranches, Di. Maybe your uncle hasn’t room for guests—nonpaying guests, I mean.”

The Wheelers were very rich and before they bought the Manor House they had spent a lot of time traveling. One summer they had spent several weeks touring the whole state of Arizona in a trailer, so naturally Honey knew a lot about dude ranches. Trixie herself had done research on the subject for a theme on Arizona which she had written in the seventh grade, and the boys had apparently been born knowing a lot about western ranches.

But Di obviously knew nothing. She stared at Honey in surprise and said, “I don’t think people who live on Uncle Monty’s ranch pay him.”

“The employees don’t,” Honey replied with a smile. “If we were cowboys we’d live in the bunkhouse and work for our room and board and earn some money, too. But since none of us knows how to rope a steer or brand a calf, we’ll belong to the dude part of the ranch. Even though we all ride very well, we’re still dudes—nonpaying dudes, in our case. I wouldn’t blame Mr. Wilson if he has changed his mind.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Di protested. “Uncle Monty wouldn’t have invited us if he didn’t want us. Mother
says his ranch is simply enormous so there must be plenty of room.”

“Not necessarily,” Honey argued. “All the ranches out West are enormous. And an awful lot of people spend their Christmas holidays at the Tucson ranches. Since Mr. Wilson invited us, a lot of people who will pay very, very well may have made reservations. So now there may not be room for us.”

“Well,” Di had said stubbornly, “I’ll be awfully disappointed if Mother doesn’t get a letter from Uncle Monty soon saying that he
does
want us.”

That was yesterday, and today when the girls met in the cafeteria Di shook her head in answer to the question in Trixie’s eyes.

“Not a word,” she said, “although Mother got a letter from him yesterday. He didn’t mention us or Christmas. What can be the matter?”

They joined the line at the far end of the counter and Trixie said, “Well, I sort of hope you don’t go now.” And she explained.

“Oh, what a shame, Trix,” Di said sympathetically. “I’m barely passing myself so I know how you feel. Did your parents come right out and say that you couldn’t go to Tucson with us? I mean, if we do go.”

“Oh, Trix!” Honey breathed.

Trixie shook her head. “Arizona didn’t come into it. But when Moms and Dad said they were
so
disappointed in me I felt simply awful; I right away promised to study like anything from now on so I can get good marks in the midyears.” She plunked the napkin roll of silverware onto her tray. “That means Arizona is out for this Belden, but definitely.”

“I won’t go unless you go,” loyal Honey cried.

Di nodded. “It wouldn’t be any fun without Trixie. She always gets us involved in mysteries and adventures.”