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

earthen dam. The spillway turned out to be nothing more than a large corrugated pipe jutting out of the side of the slope. If there was a lot of rain, the extra water would spill through the pipe and into the creek below. This controlled release would keep the earth dam from eroding over time. The rush of water grew louder as we approached, but no water spewed from the pipe. Instead water rushed out of a huge gash in the ground next to the large pipe.
    I climbed off my horse for a closer look. I saw tracks, two of them, crisscrossing in front of the breach. They were wide, with thick lines crossing them like the timbers of train tracks; they looked like they were made by a bulldozer. As I inched closer to the gap in the dam, careful not to fall in, I saw that long tooth marks gouged the sides of the breach.
    Over the years, mysteries have taken my brother and me to many different places. So I had investigated enough construction sites to guess that a person had dug this trench with some sort of backhoe—a tractor with a bucket on the end of a long mechanical arm. They were used to dig large holes very quickly. Some of them even ran on treads like those of a bulldozer or a tank.
    There was no doubt about it. Someone had sabotaged the dam on purpose. Just one more piece of evidence that someone had it in for this cattle drive. The trouble was, we still didn’t know why.
    Or what they would try next.

9
IN CAHOOTS
FRANK
    W ALLY HAD HELD UP THE cattle drive just long enough for me to change in the back of the chuck wagon. I was thankful. It was hard enough pulling off wet clothes in the cramped space; I could only imagine how hard it would have been if the thing had been bouncing around as it moved down the trail. I tried to be as quick as possible, not wanting to hold everyone up even more than I already had.
    When I was done, I climbed back onto Harvey and rode over to meet Sarah. My saddle was still wet, but it would have to dry along the way.
    “You ride drag along with the Muellers,” she instructed, “and keep an eye out for Joe. He should catch up with us in a couple of hours.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    Sarah explained Joe’s scouting mission. Then she rode off to get the rest of the team. Normally, I would’ve been worried about my brother riding alone. But with the way he had been handling himself this entire time, I wasn’t. If Joe could ever live without the comforts of Bayport’s shops, restaurants, and hangouts, he would make a fine cowboy.
    We continued our long trek back to the ranch. As we moved away from the creek, the land became less lush and more scrubby. This helped move the cattle along, since there wasn’t much on which they could stop and graze. Unfortunately, it showed me just how much of a drag riding drag could be. The Muellers and I rode in a cloud of dust kicked up by the shambling herd.
    I wrapped the reins around my saddle horn so I could have both hands free. Luckily, I had thought to grab a fresh bandanna after I had changed. “Time for the bandit look,” I told them as I wrapped the cloth over my mouth and nose and tied the ends behind my head.
    “Oh yes,” said Mrs. Mueller. “I forgot.” She pulled up her bandanna to cover her nose.
    Mr. Mueller did the same. When he was finished, he pointed his index finger at me, miming a six-shooter. “Stick ’em up!”
    I jokingly raised both hands, and they laughed.
    Riding drag on a cattle drive was mostly uneventful, which gave me plenty of time to think about our little cowboy mystery. Holding steady at the top of the suspect list were Mike and Tim, the disgruntled employees. After all, Joe and I had caught them in the act of trying to steal Sarah’s horse. But I still didn’t get why they would sabotage the cinch straps as well. Stealing a valuable horse was one thing, but why risk getting caught by taking the time to antagonize the boss one last time? It didn’t really make sense.
    Sarah rode by and offered to rotate us