Free Showdown at Widow Creek by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

abilities.” I goaded Norman into a trot. “Besides, if this detective thing doesn’t work out, I’d make a pretty good cowboy.”
    Frank shook his head as I rode to the next position in the drive.
    We continued the rotation until I found myself riding alongside Sarah at the front of the herd. We rode quietly for a while as she continued giving me the silent treatment. Finally I steered Norman closer to her.
    Sarah held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it, Joe. Let’s just get this herd home and be done.”
    I shook my head. “Okay, forget we said anything about Lucky. Let’s talk about the cattle drive. Is there anything else we should watch out for?” I asked. “You think these guys will pull something else before we get to the ranch?”
    Sarah seemed to ponder whether to respond. Finally she sighed. “I don’t see how. We’re almost there.” She pointed ahead. “Once we crest this hill, we ride down to one more gate. After that, we’re on the Double W proper. Another hour south and we’re at the ranch house.”
    “No more possible obstacles?” I asked. “Any other way those guys can mess with us?”
    Sarah thought for a moment. “Not that I can think of. But maybe I should scout ahead.”
    I sat up in the saddle. “Ooh! Send me in, Coach!” I wanted the chance to ride out alone again. The drive was almost over, and I had no idea when I’d get another opportunity like this.
    “Well, I guess I should stay and help get the herd through the last gate,” she said. “All right. You can’t miss the way there.”
    “Got it!” I began to kick Norman, then stopped. “You know, Frank didn’t mean to offend you. He just wants to help you and your dad.” Before she could respond, I kicked Norman into a gallop.
    I smiled. That’s right. I still had my brother’s back.
    I rode over a large hill and spotted the fence below. I slowed Norman to a trot and kept my eyes open. I squinted, imagining that I was Clint Eastwood looking for trouble.
    There was no mistaking the entrance to Wally Welch’s ranch. The large metal gate was adorned with two giant W s. Everything was quiet as I scanned the pockets of trees on the other side of the fence. It was a good place for an ambush.
    I opened the gate, led Norman through, and latched it shut behind me. Then I climbed back onto the horse and listened. All was quiet. I could just make out the sound of the cattle drive behind me.
    I continued down the wide path through scattered trees and open pastures. Sarah had said it was an hour’s ride to the main ranch house. She probably meant it was an hour going as slowly as the herd traveled. I kicked Norman into a gentle lope so I would get there sooner.
    I grinned as I contemplated our weekend. Growing up in Bayport, I’d never had a chance to play cowboy. Learning to ride at summer camp didn’t count. But here I was, riding a real horse on a real cattle drive. I got to experience a water crossing and a stampede, and I’d fought off cattle rustlers. Even if they were just dudes on dirt bikes, it was still exciting. Thanks to the pranksters, the cattle drive had lasted even longer.
    Maybe that was it. What if delaying the cattle drive was the hidden motivation behind the sabotage? It was the only explanation that fit all the clues. What if the would-be horse thieves never intended to stop the cattle drive or steal anything? Every nefarious act had succeeded in only one thing: slowing us down. The cattle drive was supposed to be over before noon on Sunday. Now it was late afternoon. What if the true crime was happening right now at the ranch? What if Mike and Tim had just wanted to keep everyone away?
    I kicked Norman’s sides, and he broke into a full run. I had to get to the ranch and see if my hunch was correct.
    I galloped across open pastures, over rolling hills, and around groves of trees, concentrating on keeping Norman on the path.
    I crested a hill and pulled to a stop when I saw the WW homestead below.