Mystery in Arizona (9 page)

Maria led the way out of the kitchen to the moonlit patio. “It is not so much that they are difficult,” she said in a low voice. “I honestly think that they are troublesome simply because they are lonely. If they are present
when you go to tidy their rooms they will keep you there indefinitely, just for company. That is my opinion.

“You take Miss Jane Brown—she came here to have fun but she does not know how to enjoy herself. She does not know how to ride or swim. She does not care for Mexican food, and so of course she is sulky and cross most of the time.” Maria laughed softly. “I think perhaps Trixie would be good for her. You could perhaps make her relax and laugh occasionally, Trixie, yes?”

“Ugh,” said Trixie. “She is definitely not my type, but if Honey will cope with Mrs. Sherman, I’ll try to be nice to Miss Jane Brown.”

“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” Di wailed. “That leaves me with the unknown quantity. Is it a Mr. or Mrs. or Miss X, Maria?”

“Mr. X,” Maria replied, “is a middle-aged man who came here for some reason which I cannot fathom. He never goes near the pool or the corral, nor does he seem at all interested in getting to know the other guests of his age who manage to have good times playing cards, or taking walks, or watching television. Your Mr. X, Diana—his name is Wellington—does nothing but sit around all day with the saddest expression in his eyes. It is so strange. He had reserved a family-sized cabin, but he arrived alone Saturday and is occupying a small
room in the ranch house. He will not give up the cabin although I know the
patrón
could easily rent it to others who have wanted to spend Christmas here.” She shook her head. “If he were a child I would say that he was suffering from homesickness. But that cannot be so; otherwise he would go back home, wouldn’t he?”

Trixie blinked. “He is certainly the mysterious Mr. X. I’m glad he’s your problem, Di.” She turned to Maria. “What about the guests who are here because they suffer from asthma? Aren’t they awfully fussy?”

“Oh, yes,” Maria agreed, “but you will have little to do with them. Our resident nurse, Miss Girard, and her assistant, Miss Mall, make their beds and keep their rooms and baths tidy.” She smiled encouragingly. “So you see, it is not such a big chore after all, keeping house here. You will be all through with the rooms before luncheon which is served at one. Dinner is served at eight. So between the hours of two and seven-thirty you will be free to do exactly as you please. And now,
adiós, chulas
. It is getting late.”

She slipped away into the shadows which lay across the path that led down to the cabins.

“She’s simply darling,” Honey breathed, “and so is Rosita. I love them both.”

“So do I,” Trixie and Di chorused, and Trixie added,
“If it were not for Rosita and Maria I’d be scared to death. I’m scared half to death as it is. We’re sure to make all sorts of horrible mistakes tomorrow. We were awfully dumb to let the boys get by with just waiting on the tables and helping Maria prepare meals. They’ll have a lot more free time than we will. And poor me, I’ll have practically no time for fun at all, what with having to study at least an hour a day.”

“Oh, Trixie,” Honey cried sympathetically. “I forgot about that angle. It’s not fair. Since you do have to be tutored, you shouldn’t have to do as much work as we do. Don’t you agree, Di?”

Di nodded and, arms entwined, the girls strolled inside and to their suite. “Let’s arrange it this way, Honey. Trixie doesn’t have to help with the luncheon dishes. She can study during that hour.”

“That’s just what I was thinking,” Honey agreed.

Trixie sank tiredly down on the bottom bunk and kicked off her moccasins. “No,” she said. “I myself personally got those bad marks in school, so I’m the one who should suffer—not you two.”

Di yawned. “Well, let’s not worry about that until we have to, Trix. Somebody like Rosita may turn up any day wanting a job. That would make things a lot easier for all of us.”

Trixie began to undress. “I wonder why she quit high school in the middle of her senior year. I wonder why the Orlandos left so suddenly and why Maria didn’t go with them. And why Mr. X. Wellington seems so homesick. And why Miss Jane Brown is so sulky. And why Mrs. Astorbilt Sherman is so bored. It’s all very mysterious.” Her blue eyes sparkled and she didn’t feel the least bit weary or depressed any more.

Di yawned again. “You and your mysteries! Me for bed.”

After she had gone Honey asked, “Do you want the upper bunk, Trixie? You did when we went on that trailer trip.” Without even waiting for Trixie’s reply she climbed into the lower bunk. “This is one night,” she murmured sleepily, “when I am not going to brush my teeth. I don’t care if they rot out of my head—I’m that tired.” She fell asleep almost immediately.

Trixie, feeling very wide awake, did brush her teeth and then she wandered over to peer out of the window which opened onto the west patio. It was as bright as day out there except for one shadowy corner.

Trixie stared unseeingly into those shadows, wondering if the boys had come back yet from their moonlight ride.
The lucky ducks
, she thought enviously.
They’ve probably already made friends with the foreman
and are teacher’s pets by now. But I’ll bet it’ll be different when we girls want to go riding tomorrow. Old crosspatch Howie probably won’t let us ride anything but a sawhorse
.

And then she heard rather than saw that somebody was hovering in the shadows. A soft sighing sound rose and became a sob.

Somebody was out there and that somebody was crying. Who could it be—and why was he, or she, so unhappy?

The next morning as they dressed hurriedly and tidied their rooms, Trixie said, “I heard somebody crying out on the west patio last night. Who do you suppose it could have been?”

Honey frowned thoughtfully. “The homesick guest, Mr. X. Wellington?”

Trixie shook her head. “I got the feeling that it was a girl, or a quite young woman. It might have been Rosita or Maria. In spite of the fact that they smile a lot of the time I don’t think either of them is very happy.”

“I know what you mean.” Honey folded her patchwork-quilted comforter into a neat triangle and placed it at the foot of her bunk. “I think Maria sort of wishes she had gone off with her in-laws wherever they went. And Rosita, since her parents don’t know that she’s working here as a maid, and wouldn’t approve of it if they did, is certainly unhappy. Any girl as nice as she is would be miserable under the circumstances. Why on earth do you suppose that she’s here under, well, false pretenses?”

“There can be only one answer,” Trixie said. “She must need the money Uncle Monty is paying her. But if her father is a famous silversmith and her mother makes exquisite Navaho jewelry, why should she need money? I don’t understand.”

“It’s all beyond me,” Honey admitted. “Thinking about all the complicated characters at this ranch makes my head ache. I’ve decided not to think about any of them except my personal problem, Mrs. Astorbilt.” Honey clasped her slim hands. “Oh, Trixie, she’s bound to see right through me. I don’t really know how to behave like a maid.”

Trixie laughed. “Of course you do. Your home has always been swarming with them. Ditto for Di since her father made a million dollars. I’m the one who’s going to behave so peculiarly that—”

Di yelled to them then through the open doors of the adjoining bath: “Hey, you two! Maria just brought me our uniforms. Come and get ’em.”

The “uniforms” turned out to be white blouses heavily embroidered with all the colors of the rainbow, and gay, multi-colored dirndl-type skirts.

“The skirts,” Di said with a giggle, “are really glorified aprons. Maria says we don’t have to wear them except when we’re on duty. I’ve just about decided
to wear mine over my jeans—I mean my Levi’s.” She pirouetted around her small room. “How do I look? It definitely gives the impression that I’m wearing old-fashioned pantaloons, don’t you agree? I mean, I could have just stepped out of a covered wagon, couldn’t I?”

Honey, convulsed with laughter, unhooked Di’s skirt and snatched it away from her. “No. Definitely no. Pantaloons is the right word, since you did look like a buffoon. The women who came out West in covered wagons wore
pantalets
. Dainty ruffled things, Di, not Levi’s.”

“What difference does it make?” Di demanded gaily. “We’re all going to behave like buffoons anyway. If I’m supposed to make Mr. Wellington laugh why shouldn’t I act like a clown?”

“Because you’re far too pretty—” Honey began and then suddenly the door was flung open and standing there was a nurse in a stiffly starched uniform.

“You girls,” she said sternly, “are making far too much noise at this hour of the morning. A great many of my patients do not sleep well. They need this hour of rest before breakfast. I will thank you if you will keep your voices down and confine your giggles to another hour of the day.” She closed the door with a sharp click.

“Ooooh,” Trixie moaned quietly. “We don’t seem to be any more popular with Nurse Girard than we are with Foreman Howie.” For a fleeting second, Trixie wished she were back home where no one was ever scolded for laughing.

Honey started to giggle but quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. “Let’s never do anything to make her or Miss Mall mad. They might quit and then we’d have those patients’ rooms to take care of.”

This thought sobered them and they quickly but quietly donned their attractive uniforms.

“They probably belonged to Maria’s sisters-in-law,” Di whispered. “It’s lucky that they’re the type of costume that fits practically anybody and everybody. You two look simply darling.”

“And you,” Honey said softly, “look ravishingly beautiful as always. And now we’d better tiptoe over to the dining-room and set the tables.”

When this chore was done they went on to the kitchen where Rosita and Maria were preparing breakfast. “For the help,” they said, smiling.

“I’m glad I’m help,” said Trixie, drenching a golden-brown waffle with butter and maple syrup.

The boys, wearing their “bullfighter” costumes, arrived while the girls were still eating.

“Wow!” Mart cried out. “Don’t you gals look purty! Except Trixie, of course. She always looks odd in feminine garments.”

Trixie glared at him. “You and your blond crew cut look pretty odd in those garments, in case you’re interested. I trust,” she added sarcastically, “that you had a pleasant moonlight ride last night and that the foreman now dotes upon each and every one of you.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” said Mart, helping himself to a waffle. “Once dear old Howie realized that we know a thing or two about horses and are experts when it comes to cleaning the tack, he took us to his bosom.”

“That’s a slight exaggeration,” Jim said, his green eyes twinkling. “But I’m sure you gals can easily win him over to your side. You can’t blame him for being allergic to dudes who insist upon riding when they know nothing about it. There are morning classes for beginners, but apparently many of the guests refuse to take lessons and yet think they should be allowed to go along on the afternoon rides.”

“I wish,” said Trixie dubiously, “that I thought we could win our d.g.’s over to our side as easily as you think we can win over Foreman Howie.”

“Your
what?
” Mart yelled. “Elucidate, old thing.”

The breakfast bell chimed while Trixie was explaining about the difficult guests.

“Now you must hurry,” Maria advised the girls soberly. “If you have not finished those three rooms by eight-fifteen the guests will return to them and may keep you there indefinitely. That will ruin your whole morning schedule and may mean that instead of riding in the afternoon you will have to finish your work.”

She handed each of them a dust cloth and a dry mop and shooed them out of the door.

It was cold outside and Trixie shivered, wailing, “But I don’t know where to go.” She stared longingly down at the corral, and the stables which flanked it on one side.

“Just follow me,” said Di, hurrying ahead of them along the path. “In order to avoid the crowd around the entrance to the dining-room, we’ll enter the house from the east patio. Our special guests have rooms on the south side of the living-room.”

Trixie brightened. “In that case they must live in cells as small as ours because the south wall of the living-room is practically nothing but a picture window.”

Di nodded. “It shouldn’t take us ten minutes to make the beds and tidy those rooms. My one idea is to be gone before Mr. X. Wellington comes back. And I
know Honey has no desire to meet Mrs. Astorbilt Sherman if she can avoid it.”

Trixie snorted. “If you think I’m dying to meet Calamity Jane, you’ve got another think coming.”

As they hurried into the living-room they could see through the glass door to the west patio where the guests waited for admittance to the dining-room.

“They remind me of a herd of buffaloes,” said Trixie. “Almost anything could stampede them. I hope they do stampede and trample the boys underfoot.”

Honey went off into gales of laughter. “Not that you’ve ever seen a herd of buffaloes or a stampede, but I agree with you about the boys. They’re certainly getting by with murder. We were dopes to let them do nothing but wait on the tables. I almost wish that Maria would quit. Then the boys would have to do the cooking.”