The Harriet Bean 3-Book Omnibus (13 page)

“Then please tell me,” I urged. “I’d really like to hear all about her.”

Aunt Japonica looked at her watch.

“Not now,” she said. “We have a train to catch. But once we’re on the train there’ll be plenty of time for us to tell you all about your aunt Formica.”

And there was. As our train made its way across the wide plains of America, Aunt Japonica told me all about my sixth lost aunt, and what had happened to her.

“You’ll remember,” she said, “how the family had to split up after the farm was sold all those years ago? Well, after we had all gone to our different homes, our father and mother had another baby. But because the family had split up by then, we never heard about her. So for a long time we didn’t even know that we had a younger sister.”

“That’s right,” said Aunt Thessalonika.
“And so it came as a great surprise to all of us when one Christmas we received a card signed, quite simply, ‘Your sister Formica.’ ”

Aunt Japonica nodded. “Of course we were very excited about it, and we all wrote letters to her to find out who she was and where she lived. I wrote first, I think, and I had a long letter back. She told me that shortly after she was born, our parents became poorer and found it difficult to buy food even for their new baby. Fortunately, there was a cousin in America, and she offered to take in the baby and look after her there. And that is how Formica got here.”

It all seemed very strange and exciting to me, but by now I was becoming used to the extraordinary lives that all my aunts had led.

“She traveled all the way to America by herself,” Aunt Japonica went on. “Can you imagine that? She was only two at the time, but she was very, very brave, and people on the ship were very kind to her.

“Then, when she reached the other side of the Atlantic, she was taken all the way to the
west and brought up on a ranch. She learned to ride horses, lasso cattle with a long rope, and cook beans over a campfire out on the range. In other words—”

“She became a cowgirl,” interjected Aunt Thessalonika. “Just like a cowboy, but a girl.”

I sat with my mouth wide open in astonishment. The story of Aunt Formica was far more exciting than I ever could have imagined, and I was thrilled at the thought that I had a cowgirl aunt. I imagined her riding up to meet us on her horse, throwing her hat into the air, and firing pistol shots through it. It was all very exciting.

“She was very good at being a cowgirl,” said Aunt Japonica. “When her cousin became too old to run the ranch, she gave it to Formica, and Formica has looked after it since then. She went to rodeos and won all the prizes for breaking in horses and riding on the backs of great fierce bulls.”

“But then it all went wrong,” said Aunt Thessalonika. “Something happened to spoil it.”

“What was that?” I blurted out.

My aunts shrugged. “We don’t know,” said Aunt Japonica. “All we know is that she wrote to us and asked us to come out as soon as we possibly could. Something was going dreadfully wrong, but she didn’t say what it was.”

“So we’re going to help her,” I said. “And that’s why we’re heading west.”

“Yes,” said Aunt Japonica, adding glumly, “I only hope it’s not too late. I’ve got a terrible feeling that it might be.”

I felt very worried. Whatever was happening did sound very bad, and I hoped that our train would hurry up and complete its journey so that we could see what we could do to help.

The train journey seemed to take forever. We had bunks to sleep in, and everything was very comfortable, but I was itching to arrive. At last, though, just when I thought that we would never get there, my aunts consulted their map and told me to get my things ready to get off the train.

“That last stop was Cactus Point,” said Aunt Japonica. “According to this map, the next stop is ours.”

I asked what it was called and Aunt Japonica looked at her map again.

“Skeleton Gulch,” she said in a slightly disapproving tone. “Towns can have very
strange names in America.” She looked at the map again and shook her head. “I see that there’s a place here called Poison. Can you imagine that?”

Poison sounded pretty bad, I had to admit, but what about Skeleton Gulch? That was almost as unwelcoming.

I looked out the window of the train. The wheat fields through which we had been traveling had given way to hills and valleys, and everything was a bit drier. It was hotter, too, with a great burning sun overhead and no clouds in the wide blue sky. So this was the West!

Skeleton Gulch was not much of a place. We saw it all as the train drew into the station. There was the station building, which was not much more than a low shack, a water tower, and a street of rickety-looking wooden buildings. If you’ve ever seen a cowgirl film, you’ll know just what it looked like.

We were the only people to get off the train. The conductor, who had been very
friendly to us on the journey, helped us unload our luggage.

“I don’t know what you’re doing getting off in a place like this,” he said, frowning. “I can’t remember when anybody last got off here.”

I looked around. There was nobody around, as far as I could see. Skeleton Gulch seemed to be utterly deserted. Perhaps it’s a ghost town, I thought. I had read about these places. They were towns where nobody lived at all. Everybody had gone away, and nobody else had come in their place. So all the houses were left exactly where they were, with nobody to live in them except the rats and the snakes.

My thoughts were interrupted by Aunt Japonica.

“This way, Harriet,” she said sharply “It’s far too hot to stand around thinking about ghost towns.”

It’s strange having aunts who are mind readers. They can tell what you’re thinking almost all the time. You have to be careful
what you think, too. You can’t think thoughts like, I wish my aunt wouldn’t wear that terrible hat; or, I’m bored and I wish my aunt would stop talking. They can tell when you’re thinking things like that and they look at you in a very disapproving way.

I picked up my suitcase and followed my aunts. Since there was nobody in the station, we had nobody to take our tickets. So we just walked out onto the street and looked around.

“We’ll have to ask the way,” said Aunt Thessalonika. “I hope it’s not too far.”

But how could we ask the way, I wondered, when there was nobody around to ask? I was beginning to feel frightened. Why was Skeleton Gulch called Skeleton Gulch?

Just as I was thinking this, we heard a loud creaking noise. It made me jump, and I spun around to see the door in one of the wooden buildings open and a man step out. He looked at us, rubbed his eyes, and then gave a friendly wave.

“Did you folks get off the train?” he called out.

“We did,” said Aunt Japonica.

“Well, well,” said the man, coming over to meet us. “That’s the most unusual thing that’s happened ‘round these parts for well on … six months. Yes, that’s right. Nobody’s gotten off that train for six months. Normally that old train just whistles right through here.”

“We’re looking for our sister,” explained Aunt Thessalonika. “She’s called Formica, and we believe she lives around here.”

The man smiled. “She certainly does,” he said. “She lives up Rattlesnake Creek way. And I’ll take you there in my truck if you like, because I’m the local taxi driver and that’s my job!”

We were very pleased to have met the taxi driver, and when he came back a few minutes later with his old brown truck, we loaded in our luggage and set off with him. It was a bumpy ride. The roads were full of holes and here and there we had to swerve to avoid a branch that had fallen from a tree. But before too long we were bouncing along
a farm road and there, set between two small hills, with a wide plain behind it, was Aunt Formica’s ranch house.

“This is it,” said the taxi driver as we drew to a halt in a cloud of dust. “This is Formica’s place.”

We thanked him, lifted out our suitcases, and waved as he drove away. Then we turned around and looked at the house. The front door was open, but there was no sign of anybody around. So we sat down on the porch in front of the house and waited for something to happen.

Suddenly it did. From behind the house there came a great whooping noise and the sound of galloping hooves. Then, before we even had time to stand up and see what it was, there was a cloud of dust, and a shout, and a horse came to a stop right in front of the porch.

“Whoa!” shouted the rider as she jumped off the horse, landing perfectly on the high heels of her tall cowgirl boots.

“Formica!” shouted Aunt Japonica and Aunt Thessalonika in unison.

“Japonica!” shouted the rider. “Thessalonika!”

My two aunts tumbled down the steps to hug their sister. Then they turned around and pointed at me. Aunt Formica walked toward me and shook me by the hand. Her hand felt strong and rough, and I liked her the moment I saw her. So this was my sixth aunt! I could hardly believe my luck. This wonderful rider, with her wide-brimmed hat and her silver jingling spurs, was my aunt. It was almost too good to be true.

Aunt Formica took us into the house and showed us to our rooms. Then we all went into the kitchen and sat on stools while she prepared supper. We had beans, of course, which is what cowgirls always eat, and they tasted marvelous, cooked on her small wood-burning stove. Then we drank coffee out of tin mugs. I don’t normally like coffee, but the way Aunt Formica made it was just right, and it went very well with the beans.

As we ate, Aunt Formica explained why
she had asked her two sisters to come out and help her.

“I knew that you two were just the people to sort all of this out,” she said. “And with Harriet to help you, I’m sure that we’ll get to the bottom of it in no time at all.”

“But what is
it?
” pressed Aunt Japonica. “None of us has the slightest idea what your problem really is.”

It was just beginning to get dark outside, and Aunt Formica lowered her voice, as if there were people out in the darkness who might hear.

“Rustling,” she said. “I’ve got rustlers!”

I wasn’t at all sure what rustling was, but what Aunt Formica said next made it all clear.

“Rustlers are the worst thing that can happen to a rancher,” she went on to say. “They come at night and take your cattle. They drive them away from under your very nose, and the next morning they’re gone. Several of the ranchers near here have been driven out of business by them. They’ve had to leave
their ranches and go live in Skeleton Gulch—and that’s no fun, as you can imagine.”

Aunt Japonica and Aunt Thessalonika bristled with anger.

“But surely you can get them stopped,” said Aunt Thessalonika. “What about the sheriff? Surely you have a sheriff to look out for you?”

Aunt Formica let out a snort of laughter. “Sheriff? Yes, we’ve got a sheriff, all right. But he’s a real clod-hopping, coyote-baiting … he’s as much use as a hole in the head. He hasn’t arrested anybody for at least ten years, and most of the time he sits in front of his office fast asleep. He’s hopeless. He’s worse than hopeless!”

My aunts were silent for a few moments.

“These rustlers are just thieves, aren’t they?” said Aunt Japonica. “They’re nothing but cowardly thieves who steal other people’s cattle by night. If only I could get my hands on them!”

“That’s just what I feel too,” said Aunt Formica. “But the trouble is that nobody
ever sees them. They come by night and they leave no tracks. Nobody knows who they are or where they live. All we know is that we’re losing our cattle.”

I felt just as angry as my aunts. But at the same time, I knew that if there was anybody who could solve the mystery and deal with the rustlers, it would be my two detective aunts.

“Don’t worry,” I said to Aunt Formica. “Aunt Japonica and Aunt Thessalonika can deal with this for you. If I were a rustler now, I’d be very, very worried.”

Aunt Formica looked doubtful. “I hope you’re right, Harriet,” she said. “But these people must be very clever and very dangerous. I’m afraid it won’t be easy.”

Aunt Japonica rubbed her hands. “Harriet’s right, Formica,” she said. “We’ve dealt with people like this before. We’ll find them for you and then you can teach them a lesson or two. But we’ll have to start tomorrow, because we’re all feeling tired after the journey and I think it’s time for bed.”

I lay awake that night, watching from my bed as the moon moved slowly across the night sky outside. From time to time I heard a coyote howl, a long wail that echoed up to the stars and back. Were there cattle rustlers out tonight, riding quietly through the darkness, wearing black handkerchiefs over their faces? I was sure that there were, and I felt that tomorrow, when we went to look at the cattle with Aunt Formica, we would find that the thieves had struck again. I shivered at the thought, and snuggled down into my bed until at last I fell asleep.

Aunt Formica woke me early in the morning. “I’ve brought you some new clothes,” she said, laying them out on the end of the bed. “These are some of the things that I used to wear when I was a girl. They’re still in good condition though, and you can try them on. If you’re going to be a cowgirl, you must wear the right things.”

I tried on the new clothes eagerly. They fit me exactly, and they were very nice as well. There was a pair of riding pants with leather trim, a jacket with fringe around the top, and a plaid shirt with lots of pockets. What I liked most, though, were the boots. These were
made of beautiful leather, with a picture of a horse engraved on each of them, and with splendid silver buckles at the ankles.

I felt very proud of my new outfit, and when I went to join my aunts for breakfast, I was delighted to see that both Aunt Japonica and Aunt Thessalonika were now dressed in exactly the same style as I was.

We ate our beans and drank our coffee and then went out to saddle our horses. My horse had white and brown patches and was called Tex. He seemed pleased to see me and was very happy when I gave him a sugar lump before I put on his saddle.

Once we were all mounted, Aunt Formica tossed her hat in the air, caught it deftly, and gave a loud whoop. Then off we rode, with Aunt Formica leading the way. I am not a very good rider, but Tex was a very easy horse to ride. He was also very kind. If I bumped up into the air, he would give a glance up to ensure that he was exactly below me when I came down again. It would be very difficult, if not impossible, to fall off a horse like that.