Free Bailey and the Santa Fe Secret by Linda McQuinn Carlblom Page A

it was in the Jemez Mountains in northern New Mexico.”
    Bailey growled. “I wish they were more specific!”
    “Something has to give pretty soon,” Elizabeth said. “I feel like we’re close to the solution, but somehow just can’t see it yet.”
    “Me, too. We have to keep our eyes and ears open even more than ever.”
    “I think we need to ask God’s help,” Elizabeth said. “We haven’t been the best at seeking Him first.”
    Bailey was quiet, then nodded. “You’re right. We’ve been trying to do this all on our own and forgot to put God first.”
    The girls bowed their heads and Elizabeth prayed aloud. “God, we’re stuck on this mystery, and we need Your help. If You want us to solve this, would You please show us the pieces to the puzzle that we’re missing? It would help Halona and her family so much if we could find that deed to the mine and prove her to be the rightful owner. Thank You for listening to us and helping us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
    “There.” Bailey said. “Now we’re even one step closer to the solution.”

The Secret Compartment
    Wednesday morning at Earth Works, after their store-opening chores were done, Bailey and Elizabeth pulled out the pottery pieces from the cabinet.
    “The pot seems even older now that it’s broken.” Bailey laid the pieces on the table and brushed off her hands. “I feel like we’ve just found these old relics on an archaeological dig!”
    “Seriously, that’s something to think about,” Elizabeth said. “As old as this pot is, we should be extremely careful in handling it and studying it, just like the archaeologists would. We’d hate to damage it even further and lose an important clue in the process.”
    “You’re right.” Bailey went to the countertop along the wall and opened a drawer. She returned to the table with two small paintbrushes. “These should help us uncover clues without touching the pot too much.”
    “And what about some gloves, so oils from our skin don’t get on the pot when we do have to touch it?”
    Elizabeth asked. “I think the part that’s painted will be protected, but I’m afraid our skin oils could discolor the plain, unpainted clay.”
    “Good thinking. I’ll see what I can find.” Bailey scrounged through drawers and cabinets until she found what looked to be Halona’s gardening gloves. “These should do the trick.”
    “Perfect.”
    Bailey slipped on a pair of gloves and picked up a paintbrush.
    “Wait!” Elizabeth said.
    “Now what?”
    “We should spread out some old newspaper on the table to make our cleanup easier.”
    Bailey sighed. “Cleanup? You’re as bad as my mother.” She started to grab a couple sections of newspapers from a pile sitting in the corner, but then reconsidered. “What if the newsprint comes off on the pot?”
    “You’ re right. We shouldn’t use that.”
    “We could use the same paper that we wrap the pots in when someone buys them,” Bailey said. “I’ll run and get some from under the counter.” Bailey hustled out to the front of the store and, after getting Halona’s permission, returned with a small stack of the wrapping paper. They spread the sheets out until the tabletop was covered. “Satisfied?”
    Elizabeth laughed. “Yep! If we can’t keep our mess on all this, then it’s a project we probably shouldn’t do.”
    “Let’s get started.” Bailey gingerly picked up her favorite piece—the one with the sunset painted on it—and set it in front of her. It still had some of the pot’s bottom attached to it, so it stood up as if it had never been broken. Bailey dusted off the small painting with her paintbrush, then turned the pot to dust the inside. As she turned it, she noticed a little hole only about a half inch long, exposing what seemed to be a pocket built into the pot near the top, almost like a wall within a wall.
    “Check this out!” she told Elizabeth.
    “What?”
    “This side is hollow.” Bailey stood to peer down at