The Mystery in Arizona

sleeves. “There. Isn’t the squash-blossom design just as pretty as anything a Fifth Avenue designer ever dreamed up?”
    “It’s perfectly lovely,” Trixie said truthfully. “Moms makes her housedresses and aprons and dish towels out of our chicken-feed bags, but the patterns aren’t that pretty.”
    She hesitated. If she stayed here and helped Mrs. Sherman straighten her room, it would mean that she wouldn’t be able to finish her chores before lunch. And that would mean tidying some of the cabins after lunch instead of studying. And then she couldn’t go riding—might not even be able to go to the rodeo.
    Trixie sighed. She couldn’t leave such a kind-hearted person alone amidst such confusion. She picked up a hanger. “Let’s start putting things back in the closets and bureau drawers. I’m so glad you’re not going to leave, Mrs. Sherman. You’ll be the belle of the square dance tonight.”

Tenny Tells All • 15

    As THEY WORKED together, creating order out of the chaos Mrs. Sherman had created, Trixie asked, “Do you know why Rosita needs money so desperately?”
    “It’s because of her father,” Mrs. Sherman replied. “Mind you, she never said anything directly to me, and probably I shouldn’t repeat what I heard her tell Maria Monday morning when she came out to apply for a job.”
    “I guess you shouldn’t,” Trixie admitted reluctantly. “I heard her talking to Tenny—you know, the cowboy. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help it because they were on the patio right outside my window. It sounded to me as though she were in some awful trouble. I mean, as if she had done something so disgraceful that she was expelled from school and couldn’t go home.”
    Mrs. Sherman snorted. “Since you’ve got exactly the wrong impression, I’d better tell you what’s what. You know that Rosita’s father is a famous silversmith and that her mother helps him make the jewelry. Rosita knew that they could accomplish a great deal more with less work if they used modern tools. So she persuaded them to buy some sort of newfangled contraption which was obviously beyond them, because the father cut his hand very badly right away. Instead of having it treated by a real doctor, he fooled around with the tribal medicine man until it readied a stage where even the medicine man advised him to go to a surgeon. The surgeon charged a hundred dollars for the operation, and before Rosita’s father can use his hand again, he will have to have treatments to the tune of another four hundred dollars.” She sighed. “Nothing would make me happier than to give that pretty child the money, but of course she is too proud to accept charity.”
    Trixie nodded. “So she left school to earn the money herself? But her family doesn’t know that she’s working here, so how does she explain sending money?”
    “It’s very complicated,” Mrs. Sherman said exasperatedly. “Rosita arranged it all with the surgeon. Her father thinks he paid for the operation and is paying for the treatments himself with bits of jewelry. The surgeon accepts whatever he brings and then sends the bills to Rosita.”
    “But isn’t Navaho jewelry expensive?” Trixie asked.
    “Some of it is,” Mrs. Sherman agreed. “But during the weeks when Rosita’s father was unable to work, they sold all of the best pieces. They had to eat, you know. The rings and necklaces he brings to the surgeon are, I gather, worth about five dollars each. Even that concha belt which I bought from Rosita along with the other baubles is only salable to a museum—for about twenty dollars. If only she’d let me give her the money!”
    She groaned as she crammed a wad of frothy lingerie into a bureau drawer. “Frankly, I’m sick and tired of being rich. It complicates everything. When Ned and I were running our restaurant, I was as happy as a roadrunner because I was busy the livelong time. But his dying wish was that I should sell out and five in the lap of luxury forever after. He knew I’d always had a yen to spend a few months during the winter at a dude ranch, and so here I am. But fun is fun for a little while. After that it gets dull. If only Maria would quit, I’d be as happy as a queen.”
    She gave Trixie a little push. “Now run along, honey. I can manage the rest of this mess.”
    Trixie slipped out into the living room. The mystery of Rosita’s problems was solved, but why did Mrs. Sherman keep saying that she would be