The Mystery at Saratoga Read online

  Finally, in a burst of speed, she had caught up to him. She had thrown her arms around him and said, “Oh, Regan, I’m so glad I found you!” But just then, a man had appeared from nowhere. He’d been wearing a dark suit, with a badge on the lapel that said “Track Official.”

  “You’re disqualified!” he’d shouted, and while Trixie had tried to understand what he meant, Regan had disappeared.

  “And I woke up,” Trixie murmured. “What a wonderful way to start the morning.” Sighing, she got out of bed.

  By the time Trixie started her morning chores, she was already waiting impatiently for Honey’s phone call, and her spirits were almost as low as Dan’s had been the night before.

  “You’re just tired,” she told herself as she changed the sheets on her bed. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so worried about a silly old dream.” Gathering up the sheets she’d just taken off the bed, she rolled them into a ball in her arms, marched to the laundry chute, and threw them down, as if she were trying to throw the memory of the dream away with them.

  But it wasn’t that easy to put the nightmare out of her mind. She vacuumed and dusted with her mind only partly on her work.

  She was standing with the dustrag in her hand, gazing across the living room at the telephone and wishing it would ring, when she felt a tug on her sleeve and looked down into the worried gaze of her little brother.

  “I need a glass of water, Trixie,” Bobby said. “I need it bad, and I asked you twice, but you didn’t hear me. What’s wrong, Trixie?”

  “I’m sorry, Bobby. I—I was thinking about something else. Let’s go get some water.”

  “What were you thinking about, Trixie?” Bobby demanded as they walked into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Belden looked up from the bread dough she was kneading and smiled. “I’ve been wondering the same thing all morning, Bobby,” she said. “I suspect that while your sister’s hands are doing dusting and vacuuming here in Sleepyside, her mind is far away, at a certain boys’ camp in upstate New York.”

  “What does that mean?” Bobby asked, looking from his mother to his older sister in confusion.

  Laughing, Trixie gave Bobby a hug as she told him, “Moms means that I miss Brian and Mart and Jim.”

  “Oh,” Bobby said solemnly. “I understand that. I miss them, too, Trixie. I miss them something awful.”

  “I’m going to remind you both of what you just said when your brothers get back and the four of you begin teasing each other, as you always do. And, although I haven’t been able to hear what your brothers have said this summer, I feel fairly sure that they—and Jim—have also admitted to missing the two of you.”

  Trixie wrinkled her nose. “I doubt that,” she said. “If we could overhear that terrible trio, we’d probably hear them saying that they wish they could spend the rest of their lives at camp, away from chores and away from baby-sitting.”

  Mrs. Belden laughed. “You seem to forget, Trixie, that chores and baby-sitting are exactly what your brothers are doing at camp—and in much larger measure than any of you do here at home.”

  Trixie giggled. “You’re right, Moms. I always think of that camp as a vacation resort for the boys. I forget that they spend a lot of their time doing dishes, sweeping floors, and trying to keep oodles of energetic little boys out of patches of poison ivy.”

  Trixie and her mother started as the screen door slammed. Trixie hurried over to it and saw Bobby running down the driveway to the mailbox, where the mail carrier’s truck had just pulled up.

  Smiling, Trixie shook her head. “I don’t know how he does it, Moms,” she said. “Bobby can hear the mailman’s truck coming before it leaves downtown Sleepyside. And yet he never hears me ask him to get cleaned up before dinner.”

  “That talent for hearing only what they want to hear is one that all of my children seem to have,” Mrs. Belden teased.

  “That’s true,” Trixie admitted. “Why, just a few minutes ago, I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear Bobby ask me for a glass of water.” She giggled. “He said he needed it ‘bad,’ but he forgot all about it when he heard the mailman’s truck. There must be something exciting in the mail, because he’s running back up the driveway as fast as he can, waving an envelope over his head.”

  Before Bobby even reached the back step, his mother and sister heard him shout, “It’s a letter from Brian and Mart!”

  “Yippee!” Trixie yelled, as excited as her six-year-old brother. Then, remembering that Bobby’s reading was often questionable, she called, “Are you sure it’s from them, Bobby?”

  The screen door slammed as Bobby entered the kitchen. “ ‘Course I’m sure, Trixie,” he said, looking hurt. “I know my own name, and my own name is the same as Mart and Brian’s own name. At least, the last part is. See?” He pointed at the return address on the envelope, which was already crumpled from being clutched tightly in Bobby’s small hand. “This big letter is a B. And this little one is an e. And the tall skinny letter is an I, and—”

  “That’s very good, Bobby,” Trixie interrupted impatiently. “I had no idea you’d learned so many letters. But don’t you want to know what Brian and Mart have to say?”

  “Oh, yes,” Bobby said, remembering that the letter inside the envelope was even more interesting than the letters on the outside. “Will you read it to us, Moms?”

  “I will, indeed,” Mrs. Belden said, washing her hands at the kitchen sink and drying them before she took the letter from Bobby. She sat down at the kitchen table, and Trixie quickly sat down and pulled Bobby onto her lap.

  “The first part of the letter is in Brian’s handwriting,” Mrs. Belden said. “ ‘Dear Moms, Dad, Trixie, and Bobby:’ ” she read. “ ‘Greetings from your hardworking sons. We’ve been meaning to write for days, but by the time we’re really sure that all of our young monsters are asleep for the night, and not just pretending to be asleep so they can sneak out of the cottage later, we’re so tired that we just tumble into our own cots.

  “ ‘In other words, we’re working very hard, but we’re enjoying every minute of it. We took a two-day canoe trip this week, and Jim impressed everyone with his knowledge of woodlore, while Mart scared everyone—including me and Jim—half-silly with his ghost stories around the campfire.’ ”

  “Mart tells great stories!” Bobby exclaimed.

  “He certainly does,” Trixie agreed, shivering as she remembered the times, years ago, when she had lain awake in her room after listening to one of Mart’s tales, imagining that every shadow was a ghost.

  Mrs. Belden, reading ahead, smiled as she said, “The handwriting changes here. See if you can guess who wrote this:

  “ ‘My elder sibling is predictably unostentatious in describing our peregrinations. His ministrations to sunburns and blisters were no less integral to our journey than Jim’s forest acumen or my histrionic ability.’ ”

  “I know who wrote it,” Bobby said. “Mart did. But I sure don’t know what it means!”

  Trixie sniffed. “I doubt that Mart knows exactly what all those big words mean, either, Bobby. But I think the translation is something like, ‘Brian didn’t take enough credit for what he did on the trip. He gave first aid to the campers, and that was just as important as Jim’s woodlore or Mart’s scary stories.’ Right, Moms?”

  Mrs. Belden nodded and continued reading. “ ‘Seriously, Moms, I can tell from watching Brian and Jim that we have a good idea in planning to open a school for boys after we all finish college. Brian is going to be a first-rate doctor, and Jim is just wonderful with all the kids up here. Working at this camp is great experience for us, although my teaching of agriculture is limited pretty much to trying to make sure that everyone can recognize poison ivy. And I might add that I haven’t always succeeded even in that.’ ”

  “Poison ivy—yuch!” Bobby shouted.

  “Yuch is right,” Trixie added. “Go on, Moms.”

  “There’s not much left,” Mrs. Belden said. “Just one more paragraph, in
Brian’s handwriting again. He says, ‘Sorry this letter is so short, but we have to hit the hay. The wake-up call comes awfully early around here, and the kids wake up rarin’ to go. We’re both looking forward to coming home to the soft life at Crabapple Farm next week.’ ”

  “Soft life!” Trixie hooted. “They’re not going to have it so soft when I hand over my chores for three weeks, to make up for having done all of theirs since they’ve been gone.”

  “That’s something you’ll have to work out with your brothers,” Mrs. Belden said. “Right now, you might be interested in the postscript to this letter.” Taking the letter from her mother, Trixie felt her heart flutter as she recognized Jim’s handwriting.

  “Dear Trix,” she read silently, “I’ve been writing to Honey and my folks while Brian and Mart wrote this letter, and I’m just as bushed as they are. But I did want to say hi. And I wanted to remind you to take care of yourself and not—I repeat, not—get involved in any mysteries while we’re away. I worry about you, Trixie. We all do.”

  Trixie felt a wave of guilt. She and Honey had debated, on the way home the night before, whether or not they should telephone the boys and tell them about Regan’s disappearance and their decision to go to Saratoga to try to find the missing groom. Honey, who was more willing to admit her feeling of dependence on Jim, had argued for writing to the boys. Trixie had argued against that approach, pointing out that if the boys came home, it would be impossible to convince Honey’s parents that their trip to Saratoga was just a vacation. The Wheelers would realize immediately that the girls had asked to go to Saratoga so that they could find Regan, Trixie pointed out. And, more than likely, the result would simply be that the Wheelers would refuse to take any of the Bob-Whites along, ending their chances to find Regan and clear up the mystery.

  In the end, it had been Dan who had tipped the scales in favor of not calling Mart, Brian, and Jim. He had reminded the girls of how important working at the camp was to the boys’ futures. If they left early, Dan argued, it might be hard for them to get good references from the camp director, and they probably wouldn’t get hired again the following year.

  Honey, who was always so sensitive to the feelings of others, had quickly agreed that it wouldn’t be right to risk ruining the boys’ future plans, especially when they didn’t really know if they’d succeed in finding Regan.

  Now, rereading Jim’s note, Trixie found herself wondering if their decision had been a wise one. Then she remembered what Mart had written: “Working at this camp is great experience for us,” he had said.

  We made the right decision, Trixie thought. We have no right to spoil that experience for them.

  The phone rang, and Trixie jumped up to answer it. Bobby, who had been sitting quietly on Trixie’s lap spelling out the few words he knew in the boys’ letter, hollered in protest. “Sorry, Bobby,” Trixie said, hugging him quickly before she dashed to the phone.

  She paused with her hand on the receiver and whispered, “Please, let it be Honey,” then picked up the receiver and said, “Hello?”

  “It’s all set!” Honey’s voice sounded joyously in Trixie’s ear. “Daddy called just a few minutes ago. I asked him if we could come up to Saratoga for a few days, and he said it was a wonderful idea. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of it himself!”

  “That’s wonderful, Honey!” Trixie exclaimed. “Did he invite Dan, too?”

  “He did,” Honey answered. “But Dan doesn’t feel that he should go. I spoke to him about it this morning, when he was at the stable working with the horses. He said he feels that he can help his uncle more by staying here and trying to fill in for him, so that Regan’s job will be waiting for him when he comes back.”

  “I suppose that’s true, although I wish Dan could come with us. Gleeps!” Trixie added. “I don’t even know yet that I can come along! I’ll ask Moms right now, then I’ll call you back to get all the details about when we’re leaving and what I should bring.” Mrs. Belden readily gave Trixie permission to go with Honey to Saratoga, although she made it clear that she suspected that Trixie had been waiting for Honey’s call all morning. “I can see that your thoughts weren’t all on your brothers at camp,” she said. “But I do think that a vacation will do you good. It will do me good, too, if it keeps you from being envious of your brothers’ adventures when they get home.”

  Trixie threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “Moms, you’re the greatest!” she said. “I’ll call Honey right back and tell her the trip is on!”

  Trixie and Honey briefly discussed what time they would leave and what they should pack for the trip. Honey explained that Tom Delanoy, the Wheelers’ chauffeur, would drive them to Saratoga the following morning. Tom’s pretty wife, Celia, would go with them. Then Trixie, remembering that her vacation would leave her mother totally without help around the house, hastily said goodbye and threw herself into her chores.

  “I just wish there were more I could do in advance,” she told her mother. “I keep thinking I should make all the beds seven times in a row, or try to talk a week’s worth of weeds to come up in the garden today, so I can pull them out. But that just isn’t possible.”

  “I appreciate all you’ve done, Trixie,” her mother said. “But now I think you should do some things for yourself—like packing your bag.”

  “Gleeps! That’s right!” Trixie exclaimed. “And when I’ve finished, I’m going straight to bed. I want to get a good night’s sleep before I take my vacation!”

  But with her suitcase packed, Trixie found herself once again lying sleeplessly in bed, wondering what the next few days would bring. “I’ve called this trip to Saratoga a ‘vacation’ so many times that I’ve begun to believe that’s all it is,” she said aloud. “But finding Regan and solving the mystery that made him leave Sleepyside is the important thing. I just hope that Honey and I will be able to manage it alone.”

  The Search Begins ● 6

  TWO RESTLESS NIGHTS in a row made Trixie oversleep the next morning. When she did wake up, she moved with a slowness that was rare for the usually energetic teen-ager. Consequently, Trixie was still eating breakfast when Honey bounded in through the back door, remembering her manners just in time to catch the screen door before it slammed.

  Mrs. Belden shook her head in disbelief. “If you didn’t have the same blond hair and hazel eyes, I’d say you couldn’t possibly be the same frail, timid little girl who moved in next door not so very long ago, Honey,” she said.

  “I’m sorry for being so rude, Mrs. Belden,” Honey apologized.

  “Moms didn’t mean you were being rude, Honey,” Trixie said. “Just normal. Right, Moms?”

  “Exactly,” Mrs. Belden agreed. “And I must admit that I’m quite proud of the fact that my own bouncing daughter had a part in the change you’ve gone through.”

  Honey giggled. “Trixie had more than a part in the change, Mrs. Belden. She practically caused it single-handedly. When Trixie and I first became friends, I was afraid of my own shadow. But Trixie isn’t afraid of anything. And since I was always more afraid of being left alone than I was of following Trixie, I did a lot of things that frightened me at first; then I discovered they weren’t so frightening, after all!”

  “I just wish,” Mrs. Belden said ruefully, “that a little of your caution had rubbed off on Trixie while her fearlessness was rubbing off on you!”

  “I give you a lot of worried moments, don’t I, Moms?” Trixie asked somberly. “Well, I promise I’ll stay out of trouble in Saratoga. So don’t worry about me for a minute!”

  “Saratoga!” Honey exclaimed. “Do you know, I’d almost forgotten that we were leaving? Tom and Celia are waiting in the car. Tom’s too polite to honk the horn, but I’m sure he’s getting impatient. Are you ready, Trixie?”

  “Sure am!” Trixie responded, carrying her breakfast dishes to the sink and giving them a quick rinse. “My suitcase and purse are right there, by the door.” She hugged her mother and younger brother and head
ed toward the door.

  It was Honey who noticed Bobby’s forlorn look and trembling chin. She knelt beside his chair and hugged him. “Poor Bobby,” she said sympathetically. “You’re going to miss your sister, aren’t you?”

  Bobby nodded sadly. “I’m gonna miss everybody, ’cause everybody’s gonna be gone,” he said.

  “It’s only for a week, Bobby,” Trixie reassured him. “Then Honey and I will be back, and Mart and Brian and Jim will be home a couple of days after that.”

  “As soon as we get back, I’ll come over and tell you all about what we did and what we saw in Saratoga,” Honey promised. “I’ll bring you a souvenir, too. Would you like that?”

  To Honey’s surprise, Bobby shook his head. “I don’t want one of those,” he said. “But would you bring me a present?” He looked around, confused as Honey, Trixie, and Mrs. Belden all burst out laughing.

  “All right, Bobby,” Honey agreed. “I’ll bring you a present, instead.”

  Trixie and Honey were still laughing over Bobby’s unintentional humor as they got into the car.

  Tom put Trixie’s bag in the trunk with Honey’s, then started down the driveway before he asked, “What’s got you girls laughing so hard this early in the morning?”

  When Honey told Tom and Celia what Bobby had said, they laughed, too. “It can’t be easy for Bobby, being the youngest in the family,” Tom observed. “He gets a lot of love and attention when everyone’s around, but he also gets left alone a lot when everyone else has places to go and things to do.”

  Trixie nodded. “I know. I used to feel awfully jealous of Mart and Brian before Honey moved here; they were older and could do more things on their own than I could. I was always asking to come along when they went someplace, but it seemed they always were going someplace I couldn’t go because I was too young.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Celia Delanoy said. “I have to go into Sleepyside to do the marketing tomorrow. I’ll call your mother and ask if Bobby can ride along when Tom drives me into town. That way he’ll feel as though he’d had a small adventure of his own this week, anyway.”