The Happy Valley Mystery

girl... so feminine and sort of helpless....”
    Mart snorted. “She’s about as helpless as a heavyweight champion,” he said. “Do you have any projects she can hope to complete in a week? Any bank robberies? Even any murders?”
    “You just keep still, Mart Belden,” Trixie said. “You think because you’re eleven months older than I am that you can always make fun of me. You can just stop it! That’s final. Why, Uncle Andrew, what’s the matter?” Andrew Belden’s face had sobered as Mart talked. New lines appeared across his forehead, and worry lines showed plainly around his eyes.
    “It’s nothing,” he said, straightening himself. “But you’ll be good for the Gormans just now. They’ve been worried. So have I.”
    “Anything serious?” Trixie asked.
    “It could be,” Uncle Andrew said. “You see, for some time my sheep have been disappearing... one, two, three—sometimes more—at a time. We always expect to lose a few of them to stray dogs, disease, falls into culverts, or any of the several hazards of sheep-raising.”
    “And now?” Trixie inquired, her own face taking on some of her beloved uncle’s worry.
    “Well, it’s downright mysterious,” her uncle said. “Not a sign of any of the sheep to be found—not a carcass, not a bone or a hair. Missing, gone, disappeared.” He spread his hands wide. “Just like that. Not a thing left.”
    “Not any clues?” Trixie asked.
    “Not a clue,” her uncle answered. “Oh, well, I’ll figure it out when I get back. The sheriff’s investigating. You young folks forget about it and have a good time. Happy Valley is a place to have a good time. Lots to do, and much of it will be strange to you. Hank Gorman or Ben will go fishing with you. You can ride the horses, help herd sheep, keep the dogs in order, and eat—eat your heads off. How Mary Gorman can cook! You kids just forget about my worries. Have a good time!”
    But the “kids,” as he called them, didn’t forget about the disappearing sheep. Especially not Trixie. She was just like a bird dog scenting quail.
    “I’ll simply die dead if Moms and Daddy don’t let us go,” she said, “or if Honey and Di and Jim aren’t allowed to go, too. Dan can’t, with all that schoolwork.” She soon found that her own parents thought the expedition to Happy Valley Farm an excellent idea, especially if the visitors could help with the work while the hired man was away.
    Trixie needn’t have worried about the rest of the Bob-Whites. Honey and Jim showed up early the next morning to say they could go. Diana was close on their heels with her parents’ permission.
    Bobby was disconsolate. He was just too young to go. Mrs. Belden wouldn’t even consider it. “I’ll just never be big,” he wailed.
    “Never mind,” his mother said. “You and Daddy and I will have a wonderful time here.”
    “Don’t want a wonnerful time,” Bobby said.
    “Circus in White Plains?” his mother suggested. “Well,… maybe...Bobby’s face brightened.
     
    Such scurrying about the Bob-Whites did for the next two days!
    “Take just as little gear with you as you possibly can,” Uncle Andrew suggested. “No fancy clothes. Boots, sweaters, even galoshes. It’s been known to snow way into May. Take one pretty dress apiece, girls, for there just might be a dance at Rivervale High School.”
    So there they were. One day talking to Uncle Andrew in their clubhouse, and a few days later taking off from Kennedy International in New York. Now here they were, fastening their safety belts, ready to land in Des Moines, Iowa.
    Slowly the plane lost height, drifted past the busy city, touched down lightly, and taxied up the runway to the airport terminal.
    As they entered the building, a short, smiling man with graying hair hurried forward to grasp the girls’ hands. He was Hank Gorman, Uncle Andrew’s farm manager.
    “Say,” he said, “I’d have known you anywhere, Trixie.” He took her flight bag and turned to greet Diana and the boys. “No mistaking this gang,” he said. “We sure are the lucky ones, my wife and I, to have a ready-made family like this for a visit. Our children are scattered to all comers of the continent... even got one at the Arctic Circle.”
    The warmth of his greeting made the Bob-Whites feel immediately at home. He went with them to claim their luggage, grasped two of the bags sturdily, and motioned to the boys to bring the rest. Then they all piled into the big, bright