Showdown at Widow Creek by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online

spotted us and rode out to meet us with Harvey in tow.
    “Don’t you boys know the number one rule of horseback riding?” he asked. “Always keep the horse between you and the ground.”
    Frank slid off the back of Norman. “I’ll try to keep that in mind from now on.” He looked up at me. “Thanks for the ride. And the save.”
    I tipped my hat in his direction. “All in a day’s work.”
    Frank rolled his eyes and climbed back on Harvey. We quickly joined the rest of the cattle drive. Sarah splashed across the creek atop Hondo with a small brown-and-white calf draped over the saddle in front of her. She climbed down and brought the baby cow with her. After she set it on the ground, it bounded into the herd.
    “How did it go?” she asked Lucky. “Did any get away from us?”
    “They all made it across,” Lucky replied. “I’m going to untie Buford so we can get going again.” He grinned at Frank. “I’ll let Frank fill you in on the rest.” He trotted toward the chuck wagon.
    Sarah gave Frank a concerned look. “I saw you go down! By the time I got this little guy”—she nodded at the calf—“your brother had already fished you out.”
    Frank’s face reddened with embarrassment. I couldn’t let my brother go down like that.
    “Frank and Harvey kept one of the cows from chasing down the calf,” I said. “It was actually quite heroic,” I added.
    “The trouble is, Harvey zigged and I zagged,” Frank finished. “Good thing Joe caught up to me and threw me a line.”
    My brother was too honest. He just couldn’t leave the PR to me, could he?
    Sarah smiled at Frank. “Don’t worry. I can’t even count how many times I’ve fallen off or been bucked off a horse. You’ll get the hang of it.”
    “It’s been quite an experience.” Frank nodded in my direction. “But it’s my brother here who seems to be a natural.”
    “Says the guy who always moans when I suggest a spaghetti western marathon,” I said. “See, watching all those old movies paid off.”
    Sarah laughed. “Frank, why don’t you ride up to the chuck wagon and change into some dry clothes. I’m sure my dad’s ready to move them out anytime now.”
    “Thanks,” said Frank. He turned Harvey and trotted toward the others.
    “You up for another scouting mission?” asked Sarah.
    I beamed. “You bet.”
    •  •  •
    I helped the other riders get the herd moving again before peeling away from the group. Sarah had asked me to follow the creek up a couple of miles to the lake to check on the dam. If it had broken, as she suspected, then they’d have to let Earl Rogers know. Luckily, there was no way I could get lost. I just had to follow the creek, go through a couple of gates, and I’d run into the lake. After I checked it out, I just had to follow the creek back to the crossing and then follow the trail back to the herd. According to Sarah, I didn’t need to be an expert tracker to follow their trail. Between the wagon ruts and the hoofprints, I couldn’t miss it.
    I stood in the stirrups as Norman galloped across the field. Blaring horns and beating drums played in my mind as I rode.
    I passed through a couple of nearby gates, as expected, and continued to follow the creek as it snaked through the open fields. Sometimes I had to cut through some wooded outcrops, but the loud creek was easy to find again. I kept it on my right as I rode.
    After about an hour, I could tell I was nearing my destination. The field ahead rose into a gradual incline. The large slope was the side of the earthen dam. I leaned forward in the saddle as Norman climbed up the side.
    At the top, a beautiful lake spread out before me. It wasn’t as big as some of the lakes around Bayport, but it was way too big to be called a pond. The opposite bank was dotted with large trees. On my side of the lake, the raised dam had been built wide enough that a vehicle could drive along the top without a problem.
    I nudged Norman forward along the