The Mystery in Arizona

ain’t used to havin’ the weight of a man on their backs, and they don’t care for spurs, even dull ones, nohow.”
    In a louder voice he said to the crowd, “Wal, that’s all fer now, folks, and it’s fittin that this here exhibition should be follered up tonight by a square dance, which we hope each and every one of you will attend.”
    He slid down to the ground and in a few minutes joined the Bob-Whites beside the bunkhouse. Trixie was thrilled when he said to her, “There’s a heap o’ time twixt now and when you gotta report for chuck-wagon duty. Care to go for a short ride alongside o’ me?”
    Trixie nodded, wordless with gratitude.
    He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “Goin to put your leather on a bronc or on a pony that’s been gentled some?”
    “After what I’ve seen this afternoon,” Trixie told him, “the gentler the better.” She turned around to stick out her tongue at Brian and Jim. “ ’Bye now, wisdom-bringers.”
    “Wha-at?” Jim demanded.
    “Wisdom-bringers,” she repeated airily. “The Old West word for schoolmarms.”
    Ten minutes later she and Tenny were galloping across the desert. “I can’t believe this is happening to me at last,” she called, waving a hand at the flat-topped mesas and majestic mountains in the distance. “And it’s just the way I imagined it would be.
    A sea of sand dotted with mesquite, cactus, and greasewood bushes.”
    She giggled, her sense of humor breaking the spell. “Those were the words I used in the theme I wrote about Arizona last year. Right now I’m writing a theme on the Navahos. Brian makes me produce at least two pages a day. Maybe if I keep on researching, I’ll discover some way we can help Rosita.”
    “I doubt it,” Tenny said. “When it comes to family problems, the Indians and the Mexicans are a very closemouthed people.”
    “I know,” Trixie agreed. “One reason why I can’t concentrate on my theme and math problems is because I keep wondering why the Orlandos left so suddenly.”
    “If I were you,” Tenny advised her, “I’d follow the Old West rule of ‘Pay no mind to nothin’ what don’t concern ye.’ ”
    “That,” said Trixie, “is the kind of thing Honey and the boys are forever telling me. But I can t help worrying about little Petey.”
    “Why worry about him?” Tenny demanded. “He’s as happy a little boy as I have ever seen.”
    “I know,” Trixie said, “but I’m afraid he’s going to run away.”
    Tenny reined in his horse and stared at her in amazement when she stopped beside him. “Why should any kid want to run away from this ranch?
    Why, it s sheer heaven to Petey. Mr. Wilson is going to buy a little burro for him soon, and he’ll have the time of his Me with it when school closes for the holidays.”
    “I still think,” Trixie argued, “that he’d rather be with his grandparents wherever they are.” And she started to explain.
    When she finished, Tenny shrugged. “Kids that age are always talking about running away, but they never go very far, even on the rare occasions when they build up enough courage to depart at all. Let’s talk about something more cheerful.”
    They turned their horses and started back toward the ranch.
    “I hope to have the pleasure of shakin a hoof with you at the square dance tonight, ma’am,” Tenny said, lapsing into the lingo.
    “I’m just going to watch,” Trixie told him. “I don’t know any of the complicated steps.”
    “You don’t need to know ’em,” he said, grinning. “You don’t need to do nothin’ but sashay forward and backward or prance around your podner. Mr. Wilson is going to do the calling, and he’s no expert; sort of makes it all up as he goes along.”
    “Well, maybe I will try it,” Trixie said dubiously. “Shore,” he predicted enthusiastically. “It’ll be a rompin’ and stompin’ shindig—more fun than a barrel of rattlesnakes!”

Swing Your Partner • 17

    THAT EVENING Trixie discovered that Tenny was right. Square dances were lots of fun whether you were an expert or not.
    While the guests were eating dinner, the ranch hands moved most of the furniture out of the huge living room to the patios. Then Bill and Jack settled down in one corner with their guitars while Tenny, the fiddler, tuned up his violin. Trixie, Di, and Honey were so excited they could hardly eat.
    A great many of the guests felt the same way. Miss Jane Brown, who never had much of an appetite, anyway,