The Legend of Deadman's Mine (5 page)

“Right,” agreed Dan.

Brian sat down at the computer and flipped the switch that turned it on. Dan bent over his shoulder, his eyes on the screen, and they waited impatiently until the menu came up.

“Press code and F3 to get the directory,” Dan said.

Brian did, and Dan studied it. “There,” he said and pointed to a listing of stock. “Try that. Press exit and get back to revise document.”

As Brian followed directions, Dan said, “Type in stock. When it comes up press find. Then type in nightstar.”

Brian did, but the message appeared on the screen: “nightstar not found.”

Dan frowned. “They don't have a modem,” he said. “They're not hooked into any of the programs. If they were, I could probably hack into Mr. Morrison's computer, figure out his code, and check his records.”

“I need to know more about what kind of information's kept on a horse,” Brian said. “I'm going to try thunder. That's one of the Austins' horses.”

The computer brought up thunder along with a couple of paragraphs of information. Some of it was abbreviated, but Brian could figure it out.

“Here's his parents and grandparents,” Brian said, pointing. “And here is the location and date of birth. Here's some other dates, whatever they mean. But what's this string of numbers?”

“I don't know,” Dan said.

Brian scrolled back a page to a listing for another horse. “Here's goldie. Hey, look! Here's another string of numbers.”

Mrs. Austin burst into the office.

“What are you boys doing?” she demanded.

Brian and Dan froze. She didn't look nearly as friendly as she had the evening before.

“We were going to ask permission,” Brian said, “but nobody was here.”

“The offices are out-of-bounds,” Mrs. Austin said sternly.

“We didn't know,” Dan said, improvising. “It's not in the rules.”

Mrs. Austin folded her arms and sighed. Brian thought she looked a bit less angry. “In the meantime, suppose you answer my question and tell me what you're doing.”

“We wanted to see what kind of records are kept on a horse.”

“What on earth for?” she asked.

Brian explained.

“So you're the one my husband told me about,” she said. “The boy with a million questions. Very well, what can I do to help?”

Brian smiled and pointed at the screen. “Is this an identification number for the horse?”

“Yes, that's exactly what it is.”

“Does every horse have one?” asked Brian.

“Every registered horse does.”

“Are the numbers listed anywhere else besides in a rancher's records?”

“Yes, the number is listed with a particular group, such as the Racehorse Club Association or the Horses of the Americas Registry. All the groups are listed in the National Encyclopedia of Associations. And the identification number is also tattooed inside the horse's lower lip.”

“Do most ranch owners keep this kind of computer information about their horses?” Brian asked.

“We all keep records, and nowadays most are on computers. Which horse are you trying to look up?” she asked.

“Nightstar,” Brian said.

Mrs. Austin's eyes widened. “Nightstar's Mr. Morrison's horse. He's not one of ours. You know, don't you, that Nightstar was stolen?”

Brian nodded and said, “That's what made me curious about him.” He went on to explain what he had learned so far and why he had accessed the computer. Mrs. Austin actually seemed impressed.

“Turn off the computer and come with me,” Mrs. Austin said. “I've got something that might be of interest to you.”

The boys followed Mrs. Austin into another room and waited as she reached into a bookcase on the back wall, pulled out a book, and opened it on the desk.

“Here he is,” Mrs. Austin said, pointing to a picture of a beautiful coal black horse. Brian and Dan leaned over her shoulder and read about Nightstar. Brian pulled out his notebook and jotted down some information from the entry.

“Do you know if the police have Nightstar's ID number?” Brian asked.

“I can't imagine why they wouldn't,” she said, closing the book and getting up to put it back on the shelf. “When a horse is stolen, the identification number is one of the first things the police ask for.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Austin,” Brian said. “That information was very helpful.

“And thanks for not yelling at us about the computer,” he added.

Mrs. Austin laughed. “You're welcome,” she said. “Just keep in mind that from now on the offices are out-of-bounds.”

Brian and Dan promised her they would remember, and left. “I'm sorry I couldn't access Mr. Morrison's computer for you,” Dan told Brian as they walked along the path back to their cabin.

“It's okay,” Brian said. “You heard what Mrs. Austin said. There are other places to get Nightstar's ID number.”

“Now what are you going to do?”

“I'm going to try to find out how much Nightstar was insured for,” Brian answered.

“How are you going to do that?”

“There was a name of an insurance company listed with Thunder's information. I'll take a chance that Mr. Morrison used the same company to insure his horses.”

“What if he didn't?” Dan asked.

“One step at a time,” Brian said. He fished in the pockets of his jeans and came up empty. “Have you got a quarter I can borrow?”

Dan handed Brian a quarter, and they headed for the pay phone outside the lodge. Brian thumbed through the phone book, found the listing for the insurance company, dropped his quarter into the phone, and dialed the number.

“But you're just a kid,” Dan interrupted. “Whoever answers will just think you're some jerk playing a prank.”

Brian smiled and mouthed a silent “Watch this.”

When a receptionist answered, he deepened his voice. It was so realistic that Dan had a hard time not laughing.

“I'm investigating the disappearance of Wade Morrison's horse Nightstar,” Brian said. “Am I correct in assuming he's insured by your company?”

“The sheriff has already been here to talk to us,” the receptionist answered impatiently. “Oh well, wait a minute. I'll connect you with one of our agents.”

“Looks good,” Brian excitedly whispered to Dan, cupping his hand over the mouthpiece. “This must be the company or the sheriff wouldn't have been there asking questions.”

When the agent came on the line Brian identified himself as a detective following up on information on the disappearance of Nightstar.

“There's nothing more I can tell you,” the agent answered wearily. “Mr. Morrison hasn't filed a claim as yet. Until he does, there's nothing we can do.”

“Can you tell me how much Nightstar's insured for?”

“Your department already has that information. Just who did you say you are?” the agent suddenly asked.

“Thanks for your help,” Brian said quickly, and hung up.

“Whoa!” said Dan. “That was incredible. You had that guy totally fooled.”

“Not totally,” Brian said, frowning. “He wouldn't tell me how much Nightstar is insured for, just that Mr. Morrison hasn't filed a claim yet.”

“So what do you do now?” Dan asked.

“I don't know,” Brian told him. “I have to think about it.”

The boys spent the rest of the day swimming, riding, and hiking. Brian was so busy with one activity after another he didn't have time to think about Nightstar. And that evening after a huge supper, the staff organized a no-talent show that kept everybody laughing. Brian was so tired that night he was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

The next day just before lunch, Brian sat down on the bench in front of the lodge and reviewed the notes he had made in his notebook. After a few minutes he frowned. His father had taught him that in building a case, start with what you know first. But all Brian really had so far were questions. Lots of questions. For instance, What would make Mr. Morrison delay in filing an insurance claim? And what did Woody know about Nightstar? When Woody stopped working for Mr. Morrison, could his reasons have had anything to do with the missing horse? And what could Mr. Morrison have meant when he warned Woody “or else”? Or else what?

Suddenly a hissing voice startled him. “Ssst!” Sean stepped out from behind a tree. “Brian,” he asked, “Bobby isn't around somewhere, is he?”

“No, he isn't,” Brian said. “What's the problem, Sean?”

Sean carefully looked to both sides before he sneaked out from his hiding place.

“Bobby's a nice guy,” Sean explained, “but he sticks to me like glue.” He pulled a wad of string from his pocket. “Now he wants me to help him make a kite.”

Just then they saw Will walking hurriedly down the path toward them. “Either of you boys seen Carter lately?” he called out.

“I haven't seen him since breakfast,” Brian answered.

“Me, either,” Sean said. “But he's got to be somewhere around here. Right?”

“That's what we're trying to find out,” Will said. “Mike showed us where he saw Carter take off by himself into the woods behind the cabins. That was a few hours ago, and no one has seen him since. Mr. Austin and some of the others are already out looking for him. If you see Carter, let me know right away.”

As soon as Will left, Sean asked, “Brian, do you suppose Carter really meant what he told us? Do you think he went looking for the stolen horse?” Sean began to get that creepy feeling he always felt when he thought something bad was going to happen.

“He got in big trouble before when he broke the rules and went off by himself,” Brian said. “He wouldn't do it again.”

“He wouldn't? Then why can't anyone find him?”

Brian wondered if he should have paid more attention to Carter's bragging. “He did say he was going to find the missing horse before we did.”

“We'd better tell Mr. Austin,” Sean said. His stomach was really beginning to hurt.

“Will said he and the others already went looking for Carter,” Brian said.

“You're right,” Sean said. “What about Will? Should we tell him what we know?”

“All we know is what Will already knows,” Brian said. “That Carter wandered off and is missing.”

“Yeah,” Sean said, “but wandered off where?”

Brian jumped up and walked quickly toward the cabin. “That's what we're going to find out!” he called back over his shoulder.

“Really?” Sean glanced at the heavy forest surrounding the camp and sighed. “Just how are we going to do that?”

“S
EAN!” BOBBY YELLED FROM
the lodge porch. “Hey, Sean!” He jumped down the stairs and ran up to Brian and Sean. “You didn't come in for lunch,” he complained to Sean. “I was waiting for you. I even saved you a seat.”

“Go back and eat,” Sean answered. “I'm going to skip lunch. There's something Brian and I have to do.”

“What?” Bobby asked excitedly. “I'll do it with you.”

“No, you won't.” Sean was already worried enough about how they'd find Carter. He didn't want to have to worry about Bobby, too. He took Bobby by the shoulders and turned him back toward the lodge. “Go in and finish your lunch,” Sean told him. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“You promise?” Bobby asked, and Sean nodded. Bobby walked away.

Sean looked at Brian, who was smiling. “What's so funny?” Sean asked.

“Bobby is more in love with you than your girlfriend, Debbie Jean Parker, is.”

Sean flared red with embarrassment. “Debbie Jean Parker is not my girlfriend!” he shouted, but Brian had already walked to the edge of the clearing and was bent down examining the ground.

“When Carter got lost before,” Brian said, “he was following Woody and looking for Deadman's Mine. My guess is that he'll take the same route.”

“Not so loud,” Sean said. “Bobby's still close enough to hear.”

Brian lowered his voice. “Mike said that Carter entered the woods behind the cabins. All we have to do is pick up his trail.”

“His trail?” asked Sean. “Why are you so sure we can follow his trail?”

Brian smiled. “Since we've been here Carter hasn't once been without a bag of peanuts. I'm hoping he'll be as messy on the trail as he is in camp.”

“You mean we're going to follow his trail of peanut shells?” Sean asked.

“Right.”

“Won't the people who are looking for him notice the peanut shells?”

“I don't think so,” Brian said. “Maybe there won't even be any peanut shells or not enough to follow, but we can look for them.”

Brian and Sean walked along the edge of the clearing, searching the ground.

Heavy boot prints were visible in the soft earth. “Here's where the searchers entered the forest,” Brian said. “It's probably the place Mike pointed out to Will.” He listened carefully. “I can't hear anyone in the forest. They must be quite a ways ahead of us.”