Brady.”
Nancy watched warily as the truck screeched to a
halt, flinging pebbles and dust in all directions. The
driver's door shot open, and a man jumped out, his face
red and sweaty. In his right hand he carried an ax.
“Brady!” Bill Turner called from behind Nancy.
“Get off my property. Now!”
“Not until you pay for what you've done,” the
intruder said. “You told everybody I'm a rustler. It's a
lie and you're not getting away with it.”
Nancy and the others watched in horror as Brady
lunged toward Mr. Turner, swinging the ax.
7. A Mountain Menace
Nancy gasped as Badger Brady swung the ax at Bill
Turner. Mr. Turner ducked, yelling, “Brady! Get hold
of yourself, man. You're going to kill somebody with
that thing.”
From the corner of her eye, Nancy could see the
kitchen window. Framed in the window was Mrs.
Turner, speaking frantically into the phone. Nancy
hoped she was calling the sheriff for help.
“You have to pay, Turner,” Brady yelled. “You have
to pay for spreading those lies. I didn't rustle your
stock. You've got no proof I did.” He swung the ax in a
broad sweep at Mr. Turner's head.
“Dad!” Kincaid yelled. “Watch out!”
Turner ducked again, barely escaping the weapon's
rusty blade. “Get back, Kincaid,” Mr. Turner said. “All
of you—get out of the way.”
Nancy, Bess, George, and Kincaid moved back
toward the house. Clayton stayed near Mr. Turner, his
arms up in a defensive position.
Nancy looked around for something that could help.
Behind her she saw a thick rope, coiled and lying
against the house. Slowly she backed up until she felt
the coil against her boot heel. Holding her breath, she
reached down and grasped it.
Gripping the rope behind her, she slowly walked
around until she was out of Badger Brady's direct
sightline. She caught Clayton's eye and nodded. Then,
in one swift motion, she threw the coiled rope. Her aim
was perfect, and she hit the ax squarely, knocking it out
of Brady's hand.
At the same moment Clayton rushed for the ax and
grabbed it up from the dusty drive. Mr. Turner
lowered his head and butted Badger Brady in the
midriff. With a “whoooff,” Badger sailed backward and
landed hard on the ground. Groaning, he tried to
scramble back up, but he was too slow.
Mr. Turner grabbed Badger and stood him up
against a tree. Working together, Mr. Turner and
Clayton tied Badger Brady to the tree with the rope
Nancy had hurled. Kincaid took the ax and leaned it
against the step leading up to the porch.
“Matt will be right here,” Melissa Turner said,
joining the rest. “He's just a few miles down the road
on another call.” She looked around, asking, “Is
everyone okay?”
“Yeah, thanks to Nancy,” Clayton said, putting an
arm around Nancy's shoulder. “Pretty gutsy move,
throwing that rope. You're not a softball pitcher by any
chance, are you? You put that one right over the plate.”
“I've pitched in a few games,” Nancy said, smiling.
“I'm just glad no one was hurt.”
“Speak for yourself,” Badger Brady grumbled. He
moaned again as he pulled against his restraints.
“Shut up, Brady,” Mr. Turner said. “You're not going
to get any sympathy here.”
Nancy sat on the porch swing and took a deep
breath. Clayton, Kincaid, and Mr. Turner were arguing
with Badger Brady. George and Bess stood by,
listening.
“Thank goodness you knocked the ax away, Nancy,”
Mrs. Turner said as she stepped up onto the porch.
“Kincaid was right,” Nancy said. “Badger Brady's
pretty nasty.”
“Do you think he was the one who made the
threatening phone call?” Mrs. Turner asked.
“I was just thinking about that,” Nancy answered. “I
really couldn't tell. The person on the phone
whispered. Badger Brady has been yelling since he got
unusual speech pattern, but it might have been faked.
It's kind of hard to compare a whisper to Brady's angry
hollering.”
“I'll remind Matt about the phone call,” Mrs. Turner
said. “If Badger did make it, I doubt that he'd admit it.”
“I agree,” Nancy said. “It sure would help if I could
hear him over the phone.”
“I'll talk to Matt,” Mrs. Turner said. “He can set up a
phone call between you two. Here he comes now,” she
added, stepping off the porch.
Sheriff Matt Switzer and his deputy drove up and
stopped near the tree where Badger Brady was tied.
“Hey, folks,” the sheriff said. “Looks like you didn't
need my help after all.”
Mr. and Mrs. Turner told the sheriff what had
happened, with Kincaid and Clayton adding details.
When they finished, the sheriff smiled at Nancy, Bess,
and George, who were sitting on the porch.
“I see you're still helping us out,” he said.
“That reminds me, Sheriff,” Nancy said, stepping off
the porch. “Have you made any connection with that
hubcap we found yet? Or the tire tracks?”
“No, we haven't,” the sheriff said with a narrow
smile. “But we're working on it.”
The sheriff untied Badger Brady. Then he put
handcuffs on his wrists, arresting him for trespass and
assault with a deadly weapon. “We are going to get to
the bottom of this rustling, Bill,” Sheriff Switzer said as
he loaded Badger into the backseat of his cruiser. Then
he drove off, followed by the deputy driving Badger's
truck.
“Well, Clayton, I hope you're staying for supper,”
Mrs. Turner said with a sigh.
“You bet, Mrs. Turner,” Clayton said, brushing off
his jeans. “It's been a while since I've had some of your
good cooking.”
At an early supper the Turners, Nancy, Bess,
George, and Clayton talked over the confrontation with
Badger Brady. The girls also told Kincaid's parents
about their experience at Antoinette Francoeur's press
conference.
“So, what are all you detectives doing tomorrow?”
Clayton asked as the girls walked him to his car. “Off
on another search for clues?”
“I want to go out to Badger Brady's ranch and check
it out,” Nancy said.
“Whew,” Clayton said, shaking his head. “You don't
mess around, do you. You're going straight into the
badger's den, right?”
“Actually, it should be pretty safe,” Nancy said with
a smile. “Brady will probably still be in jail.”
“Did you say his place was located next to the
Badlands?” Bess asked Kincaid.
“It is,” Clayton said, jumping in. “And I'll be glad to
drive you out there. I know just wh
ere Badger's place
is. I've been on digs in that area.”
“There's been incredible prehistoric stuff found
around there,” Kincaid said.
“I love that name—Badlands,” George said. “Where
is it exactly? And who named it?”
“It's an area about sixty miles east of here,” Kincaid
answered. “The Native Americans named it Mako Sica,
which means Badlands.' The area is famous all over
the world among archaeologists, paleontologists, and
geologists—” Kincaid said.
“It's the best fossil bed for the Oligocene period,”
Clayton interrupted. His enthusiasm was contagious.
“That's about thirty million years ago. They've found all
kinds of stuff out there—saber-toothed cats, miniature
camels, and horses—”
“And the best of all,” Kincaid said, her eyes wide,
smiling at Clayton.
“The titanotheres,” Clayton said, grinning. “He was
awesome.”
“I've never heard of the titan-o-whatever you said,”
Bess said. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” Kincaid said. “It was gigantic, a real
monster. It kind of resembled a rhinoceros.”
“Not something you want to run into on a dark
night,” Bess said with a shudder. “Or even in the
daytime, for that matter.”
“I'll definitely drive you there,” Clayton said. “It'll be
fun to snoop around for clues.”
“Great,” Nancy said. “Come by about noon. I've got
some things to do in the morning.” She was sure
Clayton would be a great guide.
“See you then,” Clayton said. With a big wave, he
drove off.
Kincaid walked the others back to the guest cabin.
“Nancy, let's go back out to Beauforêt tonight,” she
said. “I was thinking about it all through supper. It'll be
light until eight-thirty, and I figured out a way to sneak
in.”
Kincaid walked to the small desk and spread out a
map of the Black Hills. “Here's the Mount Rushmore
Memorial,” she said, pointing to a spot on the map. It
was highlighted by a small picture of the carved heads
of Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Theodore
Roosevelt, and Lincoln.
“Beauforêt is over here,” she continued, sweeping
her hand over the map. “We can go to the Mount
Rushmore Visitor Center, then hike through the forest
a couple of miles to the back of the estate.”
“We can't park at Mount Rushmore,” Nancy pointed
out. “If we don't get back before closing time, they'll
notice the car. Is there somewhere else we can park?”
Kincaid studied the map. “Clayton's dad is a ranger,
so Clayton's taken me all over this area,” Kincaid said,
“to places that the tourists can't get to. I'm sure that if
we go up this way, we can pick up a ranger
maintenance road. Then we can go up over the
mountain—”
“You mean actually drive up over the presidents'
heads?” Bess asked, her eyes wide.
“Well, sort of . . . behind them, actually ... in the
back,” Kincaid answered with a nod. “Then we can
stash the car behind a ranger maintenance shed, hike
down to the visitor facilities, and then over to
Beauforêt.”
“Sounds good,” Nancy said. “Let's do it.”
Kincaid told her parents that she was taking the girls
for a ride. Then she drove Nancy, Bess, and George
through Rapid City and out to the Mount Rushmore
National Memorial. They drove up a two-lane winding
mountain road through the dense forest and through
tunnels cut in the mountains. Then they traveled under
a bridge, climbed up a hairpin curve, and crossed over
the same bridge.
“Look, there it is,” Bess said. Through a small
clearing, the four majestic presidents' heads appeared
across a canyon. They were white granite and seemed
to float in the air above the dark pine trees.
“Here's where the fun part starts,” Kincaid said as
she turned suddenly. She drove onto a winding trail up
into the forest. This time it wasn't a real road. They
were on a miners' road—an unmarked dirt track that
the original gold miners had used.
“Have you ever driven this before?” George asked as
they bounced along.
“Yes,” Kincaid said. “Sort of. . . Well, not exactly,”
Kincaid added with a small smile. “But I've ridden over
it. Clayton was driving. There used to be a lot of gold
mines here. Most of them are abandoned and have
been bulldozed over. Some are so well hidden, they'll
probably never be found.”
Kincaid's expert maneuvering took them at last to
the ranger maintenance road. They checked in both
directions, but could see no one.
“Let's hope we don't run into anyone,” Nancy said.
“Keep an eye out, everybody.”
Although it was still light out, Kincaid had to use her
headlights because the forest was so thick. Suddenly
they drove into an area in the middle of the trees that
had been cleared slightly. They saw a large
maintenance shed and several all-terrain vehicles.
Kincaid drove past the maintenance shed. Although
the trail was shielded by trees, the girls felt as though
they were riding on top of the world. Through the
branches, they saw nothing but sky and the other
mountains in the distance.
“Where are we?” George asked.
“We're behind the memorial,” Kincaid said. “Back
behind the presidents' heads.”
Nancy felt an unexpected thrill. She knew they were
taking a big chance sneaking up there, but she had
confidence in Kincaid's experience on the mountain.
Kincaid pulled her vehicle off the trail and into the
woods, stopping it behind a thick curtain of trees. The
four pulled on their backpacks. Then Kincaid led them
to a walking trail. A sign with an arrow pointed to the
Mount Rushmore Visitor Center.
“You mean we're actually going back to civilization
again?” George said.
Nancy looked at the map Kincaid had drawn of their
planned hike. “Yes, but only for a minute or two. Right,
Kincaid?”
“Right,” Kincaid agreed, “and let's get going. I want
to get to the visitor center before the show begins.”
Nancy and Kincaid started down the trail, followed by
Bess and George.
They arrived at the visitor center in twenty minutes.
Tourists were everywhere—picking up maps at the
information center, buying souvenirs at the gift shops,
looking at the sculptures from viewing terraces, and
touring the sculptor's preserved studio. Across a
canyon, the seventy-foot-high sculptures looked back at
them.
“Come on,” Kincaid said, starting toward a viewing
trail off the main viewing terrace. “We can get to
Beauforêt this way.”
“Oh, let's stay a minute,” George said. She stood
staring across the canyon at the sculpted faces.
“They seem to be gazing back at us, don't they?”
Bess said.
“Really,” George agreed. “I had no idea they were so
big.”
“Okay, everyone,” Nancy said. “Let's get going. We
can come back another day and be tourists. Tonight
we're going to check out Beauforêt.”
Kincaid looked at Nancy with gratitude. “I just can't
think of anything else but Justice and Lulu now,” she
said.
“I understand,” Nancy said, “and I'd like to get going
before it gets too dark.” As she spoke, the crowd began
moving away from the terrace and gathering at the
elevators and stairs that led down to the amphitheater.
“They're getting ready for the show,” Kincaid said.
“It's a perfect time for us to disappear.”
Single file, they headed up the trail that led to the
rear of Antoinette Francoeur's estate. Kincaid led the
way, with Nancy close behind. George offered to be
last, to make sure they weren't being followed.
Nancy tried to sidestep twigs so there would be no
unexpected crackle in the hushed forest. She felt a
sense of excitement and anticipation as they followed
the trail through the thick trees.
It got darker and darker as they moved away from
the visitor center. Nancy and Kincaid retrieved their
flashlights from their backpacks.
Behind them, Nancy could hear faint words and
music over a sound system. Ahead, there was nothing
but an occasional rustle as a bird flew through the
dense branches above them or a small animal
scampered below.
Nancy's mind was racing with plans. We should
head straight for the second barn in case the missing
buffalo are there, she thought. We also need to check
the auto barn again. There were cars and trucks that
hadn't been restored yet. It wouldn't hurt to check
their hubcaps. Then we could—
Nancy's thoughts halted instantly when she heard
the sound and Kincaid stopped abruptly. Nancy threw
an arm out behind her to motion the others to stop.
Then she heard the sound again. A few yards ahead of
them on the trail, someone moved quickly, then
slowed. Then there was just one step. Then silence.
For a moment Nancy heard only her own pulse,
throbbing in her ears. Then she heard another
footstep. She darted off the path, motioning the others
to follow her lead. Naturally hidden by the forest, they