The Mystery of the Mother Wolf

  ducks for that guy.”

  “He does seem land of territorial,” George com-

  mented.

  “But I don't think he's home, guys,” Nancy said. “He

  must own at least one car that's drivable, and it's

  definitely not there. Or, at least, he hasn't dug it out

  yet.”

  Bess and George exchanged looks. “Okay, Nancy,”

  Bess said, gritting her teeth as she opened her door.

  “You win.”

  A minute later the three girls were peering into

  Rusty's ramshackle house. Many of the windows were

  broken, with plastic wrap taped over the panes to keep

  out the wind and cold. Inside was a small room serving

  as a kitchen and sitting room. The wood-burning stove

  in the middle looked totally cold.

  “What's that?” Bess said, grabbing Nancy's arm. “I

  saw something move. Maybe it's rats!”

  “No, Bess, cats,” Nancy said as her eyes adjusted to

  the dim light inside. A pack of scrawny cats roamed

  around the room, eating from open tins amid a jumble

  of yellow newspapers, dirty rags, and cast-off tools.

  “Poor things,” Nancy said. “At least Rusty's feeding

  them, though.” Through an open doorway, Nancy

  could see an extremely messy bedroom but no sign of

  Rainbow anywhere. “Rusty's definitely not home. Let's

  look around his property.”

  The three girls headed downhill toward a narrow

  stream where dilapidated livestock sheds dotted the

  snowy yard. The hill was a minefield of old junk. Tree

  trunks had grown up around ancient tires, machinery

  parts were strewn everywhere, and broken farm

  equipment from the 1950s rose up like some

  nightmarish dinosaur species on the verge of a second

  life.

  “Whoa!” Bess said as her boot kicked up a whitish

  object from under a mound of snow. “What was that?”

  The white thing landed with a thud in front of

  George. “Weird!” George exclaimed. “I think it's some

  kind of skull.” She bent down to examine it as Nancy

  and Bess joined her.

  “You're right, George,” Nancy said, studying the

  smooth, ivory-colored skull with its long snout and

  powerful teeth. Glancing farther down the hill, she saw

  a number of pigs rooting around inside a small pen

  filled with muddy snow. “It's probably a pig's,” she

  added.

  “Gross,” Bess said with a shiver. “Let's get out of

  here.” She grabbed Nancy and George by the arm and

  pulled them back a step.

  “Not before I check out those sheds,” Nancy said

  firmly. Brushing off Bess's grip, she led the way toward

  the cluster of sheds.

  A soft whimpering noise came from the nearest one

  as the girls approached it. Nancy, Bess, and George

  exchanged looks. “That doesn't sound very piglike to

  me,” George commented.

  “Maybe it's Rainbow,” Nancy said, peering into the

  open doorway of the dark, rotting structure, “or one of

  her pup—” A horrible stench of sour milk and dirty

  animals wafted through the doorway, stopping Nancy

  in midsentence.

  “Boy, does this place stink!” Bess said beside her.

  “Those poor animals. Doesn't he ever clean up?”

  “I don't think cleaning is one of Rusty's specialties,”

  George said dryly.

  Heavy footsteps sounded behind the girls, but be-

  fore Nancy could whirl around to see who was there, a

  rough hand seized her by the collar and pushed her

  into the shed with Bess and George.

  Then the door slammed behind them.

  “Serves you right for snoopin' on private property,” a

  man said, cackling triumphantly as he held the door

  closed from the outside.

  After being outside in the bright afternoon, Nancy

  blinked, trying to make out what was in the dim shed.

  A gigantic form stood ominously in the center,

  silhouetted by a patch of dim sunlight that filtered

  through cracks in the wall.

  Nancy's heart sank. It was an enormous hog, and its

  tiny eyes glinted murderously. With a horrible, piercing

  squeal, it charged right at them.

  9. Trapped in High Places

  Bess screamed, her boots slipping in the muck as she

  ran toward a broken-down stall on the left. In the nick

  of time, she scrambled through the stall door and shut

  it behind her.

  Nancy and George darted to the right. Just as the

  hog was about to butt them, the shed door opened.

  The hog swerved aside as a loud rattling noise

  clanged outside. With its ears pricked forward, the hog

  galloped through the opening, grunting happily.

  “Come and get it, Silo,” Rusty coaxed. “A bucket full

  o' slops.”

  Nancy cautiously moved to the doorway and

  watched as Rusty banged a metal bucket with a stick

  while the hog eyed him eagerly.

  “Bess, George,” Nancy whispered, motioning them

  forward. “Come on, let's get out of here before Rusty

  has a chance to shut the door again.”

  The girls rushed outside, trying their best to appear

  invisible as they sidestepped Rusty.

  “Hey! Not so fast,” Rusty said, dropping the bucket

  of slops in front of the hog, which instantly started to

  gulp it down.

  Rusty whipped out his slingshot from his pocket. A

  small but sharp-looking stone rested in the elastic

  pouch as he pointed the weapon right at them. “You

  girls ain't going nowhere till you answer some ques-

  tions. By the way, how'd you like my little trick, girls?

  Silo here scared you silly, didn't he?”

  Nancy, Bess, and George studied Rusty warily His

  puffy cheeks gave his eyes a squinty look exactly like

  Silo's, and his raggedy gray beard hung halfway down

  his chest.

  “Uh, he did scare us,” George said. “Can we go

  now?”

  Rusty narrowed his eyes even more. A cold, angry

  look passed over his face as he spat out, “Go on—get

  lost. And if I see you girls here again, you'll be in for a

  real tussle. No more fun and games like today. This

  here Silo is bacon bits next to his sister, Big Bertha.

  Now, there's a silk purse sow for you.”

  As he spoke, Nancy glanced down at his boots. Sure

  enough, they were big, and the tracks they'd made in

  the snow around him showed heavy treads. They could

  be a match for the ones in the snow last night, Nancy

  thought. I just wish those had been clearer.

  Rusty lowered the slingshot as he locked Silo back

  into the shed. Meanwhile, Nancy rummaged inside her

  pocket and pulled out the Swiss army knife, which had

  been there since she'd shown it to Ross earlier. “Don't

  worry, we'll go,” she assured him. “Just let me ask you

  something, first. Is this yours?” She held the knife

  toward him in the palm of her hand.

  As fast as a striking snake, Rusty snatched the knife

  from Nancy's hand and dropped it into his pocket.

  “Nev
er seen it before in my life,” he declared, “but I

  could always use one o' these.”

  “Hey, give that back,” Nancy demanded.

  Rusty lifted the slingshot again. “Didn't I say, get

  lost?” he snapped, aiming the stone right at her. “I

  don't take kindly to nosy strangers.”

  Nancy sighed, her spirits dampened. The trip to

  Rusty's was a bust, she decided. Not only had they not

  found any evidence of Rainbow, but she'd just lost her

  one possible clue to the thief's identity. “Let's go,

  guys,” she murmured, turning back toward the road.

  As the girls trudged back to the Jeep, George said,

  “Well, that sure was an adventure.”

  “Not a fun one, though,” Bess said. She took a

  handkerchief from her parka pocket and began to wipe

  mud off her black ski pants as they walked along.

  “But what do you guys think? Is Rusty just a crazy

  old harmless hermit, or do you think he could be

  guilty?” Nancy asked.

  “Well, he's definitely not harmless, even if he isn't

  guilty,” George said. “That pig almost killed us.”

  “I think he may be guilty,” Bess said. “I mean,

  Rainbow could be in another shed. Plus, he took your

  knife, Nan. Maybe it really was his and he doesn't want

  there to be any evidence linking him to Elk River.”

  Nancy's head was swimming. Bess and George were

  right, she thought. Their trip to Rusty's hadn't ruled

  out Rusty as a suspect.

  The girls stood at Elk Mountain, studying a giant

  map of the trails that had been posted near the base

  lodge. At two o'clock the sun made the slopes glisten.

  Fresh snow coated the trees, turning the scene into a

  magic wonderland, and the big blue Wyoming sky

  seemed to stretch above them forever.

  Nancy felt a rush of excitement. “Look, guys,” she

  said, pointing at the map, “there are trails here at all

  different levels. This place would keep us busy for days

  if we didn't have a mystery to solve.”

  “Wow, look at all those black diamonds,” George

  said excitedly, referring to the expert slopes.

  “I'm not risking my life twice in one day,” Bess an-

  nounced. “Won't one of you guys go down an inter-

  mediate slope with me? There are plenty of those, too,

  and I'll bet they're pretty challenging.”

  “I'll come with you, Bess,” a man's voice said behind

  them.

  Turning, the girls saw Dexter Warriner in a black ski

  outfit and goggles, smiling at them eagerly. “Dexter,

  hi!” Bess said. “I didn't know you were here.”

  “I decided to join Dad after all. Alice dropped me

  off on her way to go shopping in town,” he explained.

  “It's such an awesome day, and I didn't want to waste

  all that fresh powder.”

  “So where is your dad?” George asked him.

  Dexter shrugged. “I haven't seen him yet. He's

  probably schussing down some double black diamond

  trail. There's no way I can keep up with that man.”

  Nancy laughed. Turning to Bess, she said, “We'll all

  come with you, Bess. George, it won't kill you to do the

  easier slopes today, especially since you're not as expert

  at snowboarding as you are at skiing.”

  “You're right, guys,” George said. “I could use a day

  to warm up.”

  Dexter suggested taking Sundance, a long, inter-

  mediate trail that he claimed was usually uncrowded so

  the powder would probably still be fresh. The trail

  started at the top of the gondola, which, because it was

  a weekday had no line.

  The group boarded the gondola and rode it to the

  top, marveling at the view of endless mountains and

  sky. Once they got off, Nancy, Bess, and Dexter put on

  their skis, and George snapped her boots into the

  snowboard that John had lent her. Then the three girls

  followed Dexter down a narrow woodland trail that

  quickly opened onto a wide panoramic slope.

  At first the cold wind stung Nancy's face, but as soon

  as she reached the open slope, she warmed up

  immediately, thanks to the exercise and sun. Halfway

  down the mountain the group paused at the side of the

  trail to catch their breath.

  George said, “It's awesome weather, kind of like the

  beach.”

  “Not quite,” Bess said. But she unzipped her powder

  blue parka a few inches and added, “Almost.”

  They took off again, following Dexter. As Nancy

  skied along, she felt totally free, gliding effortlessly

  through the soft, powdery snow. It's almost like I'm

  flying, she thought happily.

  After almost two hours of perfect skiing, Dexter

  spotted his father taking off his skis at the base lodge.

  “Hey, Dad!” he cried, doing a neat parallel stop by his

  father. “Are you finished for the day?”

  Dody Warriner's face glowed from exercise and the

  frosty air as he smiled fondly at his son. “Sure am. My

  back is still a little sore from burro riding in the Andes

  Mountains during my recent fishing trip there. But

  don't let me stop you kids from taking another run.

  You've got time—it's not quite four.”

  “Okay,” Dexter said, “if you girls are interested.”

  “Sure,” Nancy said, while Bess and George nodded

  eagerly.

  A few minutes later Nancy, Bess, George, and

  Dexter were sitting in a four-person chairlift on their

  way to an intermediate trail called Ace of Hearts. “I felt

  safer in the gondola,” Bess commented, peering down

  at a rocky crevice far below. “At least we were inside.”

  “We seem to be the only skiers riding this chair-lift,”

  George said. “I guess everyone else has called it a day.

  At least we'll have the trail to ourselves.”

  A cold wind blew up, rocking the chairlift as it

  zipped along. Soon they were out of sight of the lodge,

  surrounded by thick trees and steep slopes. An icy

  stream glistened in a gully far below as the sun slipped

  behind the mountain. Jagged rocks protruded from the

  banks.

  “It's getting land of dark,” Bess said nervously.

  “That's why most ski resorts close at four,” Dexter

  told her. “In the mountains, the late-afternoon light

  gets kind of tricky for skiing.”

  The chairlift jerked to a halt. Bess gasped, while

  Nancy, George, and Dexter clutched the safety bar as

  the chair swung back and forth. They all peered down

  at the rocky streambed thirty feet below.

  “How long are we going to have to wait here?” Bess

  asked.

  10. The Elk’s Mysterious Message

  As the chair rocked precariously, Nancy felt her fingers

  start to become numb inside her ski mittens. Gripping

  her poles between her knees, she loosened her mittens

  and wrapped her thumbs inside her fists, hoping to

  warm herself.

  Five minutes passed, and the sunlight grew steadily

  dimmer. “Do you think they've forgotten about us?”


  Bess wondered.

  George checked her watch. “It's after four. I wonder

  if they thought the last person had already gotten off

  the lift, and so they stopped it for the night.”

  “Don't say that,” Bess moaned. “We'll have major

  frostbite by morning.”

  Nancy bit her lip. She doubted anyone could survive

  a winter night in these mountains without shelter. But

  she kept her thoughts to herself, not wanting to scare

  Bess more than she already was. Anyway, the Marshalls

  would realize they were missing and send out a search

  party for them.

  “Dad will see we're missing and get someone to look

  for us,” Dexter said, echoing Nancy's thoughts. “Still, I

  wonder how many hours it'll take until they figure it

  out.” He sighed, taking off his goggles, and added, “I

  sure wish I'd brought the yellow lens for these. The

  dark lens is totally useless in the dusk.”

  Despite the wide open spaces around her, Nancy

  felt like a prisoner in a concrete cell. I hate being

  trapped, she thought, especially when I can't do any-

  thing to help the situation.

  Or could she? Nancy's mind began to click away.

  They were too far from either the bottom or the top of

  the mountain for their shouts to be heard, and they

  definitely couldn't jump onto the sharp rocks below.

  But what if they could somehow get a message to

  someone?

  With her poles still between her knees, Nancy took

  off a mitten and reached into her pocket for a pen and

  notepad. “Help—we're stuck on the four-person lift!”

  she scrawled as the others looked on curiously. Then,

  folding the paper, she stuck it onto the bottom of one

  of her poles.

  “Cool idea, Nancy,” Dexter said.

  In the fading light Nancy narrowed her eyes and

  pointed the pole toward a trail that was barely visible

  beyond the trees bordering the crevice.

  Nancy concentrated hard, determined to aim the

  pole through a sliver of space between the trees.

  Throwing her shoulder back as far as she could, she

  held her breath and launched the pole, praying that it

  would reach the trail.

  The pole sailed through the air like a javelin, barely

  brushing the trees. Seconds later it landed directly in

  the middle of the trail.

  “Great throw, Nan,” George said.

  “Now we just have to hope that someone comes