The Mystery in Arizona

when he broke the piñata.
    “Most important of all,” he shouted, “is the fact that we must have a Santa Claus. Will anyone volunteer for the job?”
    Mr. Wellington stood up and said with a sheepish grin, “I’ve got the build for it, if you want me.” There were loud cheers and cries of approval. Shortly after that the party broke up. Several guests helped the girls stack the paper plates, cups, and plastic spoons and forks which the boys carried out to the incinerator.
    “We’ll help clean up after the Christmas party, too,” one of the guests offered and the others nodded. Mr. Wellington, Mrs. Sherman, and Jane Brown were last to go.
    “I never had so much fun in all my life,” Jane said with her shy smile. “And to think I almost stayed in my room just because I’d never been to a square dance before!”
    “You were the belle of the ball, honey,” Mrs. Sherman told her.
    “No, you were,” Jane argued.
    Trixie laughed. “I guess everyone had a grand time. Let’s hope the Christmas Eve party will be as much fun.”
    After that things went smoothly for several days. When Rosita learned that Trixie was writing a theme about Navahos, she immediately began to provide her with interesting legends and customs which made the theme grow rapidly. And the math problems seemed to get more simple every day so that Trixie was always finished in time to go riding with the others.
    Mr. Wellington, as the “soft-drinks waiter,” insisted upon helping the boys and girls with their chores during the hours when he was off duty. Uncle Monty, now that he had Jane’s help with the management of the ranch, had time to take the Bob-Whites on sight-seeing tours.
    They visited the stately old Spanish San Xavier Mission and the Indian village of Bac on the outskirts of Tucson. They spent an hour wandering through the strange, grotesque rock formations of Colossal Cave in the foothills of the Rincon Mountains.
    They watched the Thoroughbred and quarter-horse races at Rillito Track, north of the city in the Catalina foothills, and the jalopy races at the Tucson Rodeo grounds. On Sunday they went to Old Tucson for square dancing.
    “Old Tucson,” Uncle Monty told them, “is a replica of the city as it was in Civil War days. It was built as a setting for the movie Arizona , and it is kept up by our Junior Chamber of Commerce.”
    He told them about the annual event called Old Tucson Daze, during which everyone dresses in costume, and a real, ancient stagecoach rumbles through the streets of the movie set.
    “Before you go home,” he said, “we’ll take a trip across the border to Nogales in Sonora. No visas are required. You just step across the street from Arizona into Old Mexico.”
    And they made plans for the week after Christmas. They would visit the Saguaro and the Casa Grande National Monuments, the ruins of the old adobe Fort Lowell, and they might even do some skiing near the summit of Mount Lemmon.
    Trixie knew that these plans, which meant longer trips, depended on whether or not Uncle Monty was able to hire a family who might take the Orlandos’ place. Once she asked Jane Brown about it.
    “So far as I know, he’s not trying to find anyone,” Jane told her. “I think he hopes that the Orlandos will come back to the ranch eventually and stay here with Maria.”
    “I hope the same thing,” Trixie said, “but when is eventually? We like our jobs, but they sure do keep us tied down. We’d all like to visit Tombstone, for instance, but it would mean at least a day away from the ranch. Uncle Monty talks as though we were going to see the whole State of Arizona before we fly back East. Maybe he knows something.”
    “Maybe he does,” Jane said with a shrug. “All I know is that I’m glad Maria didn’t go with the others.”
    Trixie nodded. “I think she’s sorry now that she didn’t. I mean, since the night of the square dance when Petey ran away.”
    Jane laughed. “You’re the only person in the whole hacienda who thinks Petey ran away that night. All he did was fall asleep in the bunkhouse while he was pretending to be a cowboy.”
    Trixie said nothing, but she knew better than that. And she was pretty sure that Maria knew better, too. The young Mexican cook had changed a lot during the past few days. She seemed to have lost her sense of humor, even when she was giving the boys cooking lessons, and rarely did her beautiful white teeth flash in a smile.
    Even Honey complained. “Maria