The Harriet Bean 3-Book Omnibus (14 page)

We rode for half an hour or so, out onto the range. The land was vast—stretching out in every direction were fields of dry brown grass, hills with rocky outcrops, and the occasional cactus.

Suddenly Aunt Formica gave a shout and signaled for us to stop.

“There they are,” she said. “That’s the cattle over there.”

She pointed to a cluster of small brown shapes in the distance and turned her horse in their direction. We galloped over, the horses jumping over ditches and cactuses, and we soon reached where the cattle were grazing.

Aunt Formica got off her horse and started to count.

“Twenty-four, twenty-five—no, I’ve already counted that one—twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven!”

When she reached twenty-seven, she took off her hat and wiped her brow. I could see that she was upset.

“They’ve been here,” she said simply.

“Rustlers?” I asked.

“Yes,” she sighed. “They’ve taken ten away. There were thirty-seven cattle here yesterday and now there are only twenty-seven.”

As Aunt Formica spoke, Aunt Japonica dismounted and tied the reins of her horse to a nearby cactus. Then she bent down and began to examine the ground very closely. Aunt Thessalonika joined her, and Aunt Formica and I watched as the two famous detectives got down on their hands and knees and searched for signs of what had happened.

After a while, they got up and brushed the sand from their pant legs.

“These people are cunning,” said Aunt Japonica. “They’ve been careful to leave no tracks.”

“But how do they do that?” I asked. “Surely their horses would leave some hoofprints in the ground?”

Aunt Japonica shook her head. “Not if you’re as clever as they are,” she said. “Not if you put special hoof covers on your horse,
and not if those hoof covers are the same shape as the cattle hooves!
”

I drew in my breath. If the rustlers were as cunning as this, then they would be very difficult to catch, even by people as clever as my aunts.

“So what do we do now?” asked Aunt Formica. “The ground is covered with cattle tracks here. We can’t possibly work out which ones really belong to the rustlers.”

Aunt Japonica nodded. “Yes, it will be difficult …” She paused, staring down at the ground as if she had seen something particularly important. Then she knelt down again and peered at something in the sand.

“Very interesting,” she said. “Formica, do any of your cattle have only three legs?”

Aunt Formica laughed. “What a ridiculous question, Japonica,” she said. “No cow has three legs.”

“In that case,” said Aunt Japonica, “One of the rustlers has been very careless. He has forgotten to put on one of his horse’s hoof covers. Look at these odd tracks. Three cattle prints and one horse’s hoofprint!”

We all looked down and saw that what
Aunt Japonica said was true. Now at last we had a trail, and if we followed it, we would be able to find out the direction from which the rustlers had come. That at least would be a start.

We got back on our horses, and with Aunt Japonica in the lead this time, staring hard at the ground, we set off. The trail led straight across the plain, toward some hills in the distance, and we followed it for at least an hour. Then we hit some rocky ground, and no matter how hard we searched, the trail had disappeared.

“That’s it, I’m afraid,” said Aunt Japonica. “I can’t follow this any further.”

It was disappointing, but at least we knew now that the rustlers had come down from the hills.

“We will have to go back to the ranch now,” said Aunt Formica. “If we’re going to go up into the hills, we’re going to need tents and other supplies. It’s not going to be easy going up there.”

I was thrilled at the thought of what lay
ahead. This was the Wild West exactly as it should be. We were going up into the hills. We were going to take tents with us. Anything could happen up there, I thought—anything.

We packed quickly. Aunt Formica divided what we had to carry into four, and we stuffed it all into our saddlebags. Then we were all given hats. Aunt Japonica got a rather tattered old hat, with a tear in the brim—but it looked good on her and she seemed very pleased. Aunt Thessalonika’s hat was newer but had a few bullet holes in it, which made her feel a little worried. I was luckiest—my hat was just like Aunt Formica’s, a large white one, with the widest brim of all. It was exactly the sort of hat a cowgirl should have, and I felt very brave in it as I walked out to my horse.

Aunt Formica rode in front, and we were soon well on our way to the hills. It was a long ride, though, and we had to rest the horses several times on our way there. But at last, just before lunchtime, we arrived at the first of the rocky outcrops that marked the end of the plain.

We ate our lunch sitting beneath some trees. Afterward, while the horses were still tied up and my aunts were drinking the coffee Aunt Formica had brewed over a small fire, I decided to explore my surroundings a little.

“Don’t be long,” warned Aunt Formica. “We’ll have to get along in half an hour or so. And make sure you’re careful of the—”

Just at that moment, one of the horses neighed, and I didn’t hear what Aunt Formica said. But I would be careful anyway, I thought. It was probably the sun she wanted me to watch out for, as it was very strong. Well, I had my wide-brimmed hat and that was as good as a sun umbrella, I thought.

I clambered over some rocks that lay behind us. There was a small hillock nearby, and I thought that if I climbed it I would be able to get a good view of our surroundings and also wave to my aunts down below.

I began to climb. Everything was very dusty, and I had to be careful of the prickly cactuses that grew between the rocks, but soon I was almost at the top.

I sat down to get my breath back, and looked down below. There were my three aunts, sitting under their tree, chatting away, while the horses dozed in the background.

Suddenly I heard a noise. It was a peculiar noise, like the sound of something being dragged over a rough surface. It was a sort of scratchy sound, I suppose, and at first I didn’t pay much attention to it. Instead I looked up into the sky, which was blue and empty, and seemed to stretch out forever and ever.

Then the noise came back. It was louder now, and closer, and in an awful moment I realized what it was. It was a rattling sound, as if dice had been put in a cup and shaken
very hard. It was an angry noise, as if something were trying to warn me.

I looked around and immediately saw what it was. There, in front of me, in a little space between two rocks was a large, thick snake, its tail raised behind it, shaking rapidly to and fro. It was a rattlesnake, a big one, and it was staring straight at me, its little eyes burning with anger.

When I saw it, my heart gave a great thump and turned right over. The snake seemed to sense this, and its tail shook even faster, making the rattle sound all the more threatening.

I forced myself to stay still, remembering what I had once read about being faced with a snake. Any sudden movement might disturb it, and force it to strike. You had to remain calm. Now I knew what Aunt Formica had been warning me about. I was supposed to be careful of rattlesnakes. If only I had heard her, I probably wouldn’t have climbed up there in the first place. If there’s one thing I’m frightened of, it’s snakes. And now here I
was with an angry rattlesnake at my feet and no idea at all what to do next.

The snake was still watching me intently. I suppose it was thinking what to do too, wondering whether to bite me now, from a distance, or to get a little closer and get a better bite. I moved my foot a little, hoping to see whether I would be able to stand up and run, but this just made the snake shake its rattle even more loudly, as if to warn me not to try anything so foolish.

I tried closing my eyes. Perhaps it was just a dream, or even a mirage. I knew that in very hot places there are things called mirages, which are caused by the shimmering of the hot air. If you see a mirage, you think you see something which isn’t really there. But the snake was there when I opened my eyes again. It was still as large as life, shaking its tail, its tiny black tongue darting in and out of its mouth.

I decided that I would have to do something. If the snake was going to bite me
anyway, I might as well try to get away first. It just might work.

I looked around, trying hard not to move my head too sharply. There were a few stones near my right hand, some of them very large. If I picked one of them up, I thought, I could throw it at the snake and drive it away. But what if I missed? That would just make the snake angrier than ever and it would be sure to lunge forward and bite me. If it did that, I knew I would be in serious trouble. Rattlesnakes are deadly poisonous, and even a small bite can make you very ill.

Then I thought again. If only I could attract my aunts’ attention, they would be able to help me. I was sure that Aunt Formica knew how to deal with rattlesnakes. Would they hear me if I shouted out? Would the wind carry my voice down to the trees below? I thought it was way too far, but at least I could try. Snakes were deaf, weren’t they? Hadn’t I read somewhere that snakes relied
on vibrations in the ground, rather than sound, to warn them of danger?

I called out, softly at first, but then louder.

“Aunt Formica!” I yelled. “There’s a rattlesnake! Help!”

The snake took no notice, but neither did Aunt Formica. All that happened was that my voice, which sounded so small anyway, bounced back at me from the rocks all around. Nobody would ever hear.

Then I had another idea. Aunt Thessalonika and Aunt Japonica! They may not know much about rattlesnakes, but they were, after all, famous mind readers. If I could get a message to them just by thinking it, then they could alert Aunt Formica to my problem.

I looked down in the direction of my aunts. Then I began to think, very clearly: “Help!” I thought. “Help! Help! Help!”

I frowned with the effort, sending my thoughts down to my aunts below, but it seemed to make no difference. All three aunts were still seated underneath the tree, their backs to me.

I thought again.

“Snake!” I thought. Nothing. Then, a brilliant idea: “Rattle! Rattle!” I thought, making a rattling sound in my mind. “Rattle!”

As I did so, I suddenly saw Aunt Japonica stand up in the distance. She turned around, looked up in my direction, and gestured to the other two. They stood up too.

“Rattle!” I thought again. “Rattle!”

It was working! From where I was sitting, I could now see the aunts begin to run up toward me. They’re coming to my rescue, I thought, my heart giving a leap of joy. I’ll be saved after all!

The snake was watching me closely. It must have been getting a little bit bored, because it started to move toward me, ever so slowly, stopping from time to time to give its rattle a good shake. “Please hurry!” I thought to my aunts. “Please hurry!”

Suddenly, I heard a shout.

“Stay where you are, everybody! Stay very still!”

It was Aunt Formica’s voice, and I looked
down and saw Aunt Japonica and Aunt Thessalonika freeze where they were. Everybody had seen the snake now, and I could see the expression of horror on Aunt Japonica’s face.

Aunt Formica moved forward slowly. The snake had not seen her yet, although she was now close to it, approaching from behind.

Suddenly the snake whipped around, its tail shaking like the pendulum of a clock that had gone out of control.

It was now facing Aunt Formica, who stood only a short distance away from it. I looked on in horror. Surely it would bite her now—it was well within striking distance.

What happened next occurred so quickly that I almost didn’t see it. Aunt Formica seemed to jump forward, as if she were going to pounce on the snake, but twisted as she did so. At the same time, her hand shot out and there was a little cloud of dust.

For a moment Aunt Formica and the snake seemed to be a twisting, rattling bundle. Then everything settled down and to my utter surprise, Aunt Formica straightened up.
There, on the ground below her, was a bundle of writhing snake, neatly tied in a knot! The rattle was still shaking, but the snake was so confused that the sound was only halfhearted.

“That’ll keep him busy for a few hours,” laughed Aunt Formica. “He’ll be able to untie himself eventually, but it won’t be before suppertime!”

I got to my feet, feeling rather shaky.

“We heard you rattling,” said Aunt Japonica as she stepped forward to check that I was all right.

“I knew you would,” I said. “And thank you very much.”

As I spoke, I thought how lucky I was to have such aunts. Would any other girl, without aunts like that, have gotten out of such trouble in one piece? There was only one answer. She would not have.

Feeling very pleased at my escape from danger, I said good-bye to the wriggling snake. It was still trying to work out what had happened, staring at its own rattle and wondering whether to bite it or try to untie it. The effort of all this thinking made the rattle shake in irritation, which made the snake more confused and more cross.

We began to make our way down the hillside, back to where the horses were tethered. Or rather, back to where they
had
been tethered.

“The horses!” shouted Aunt Thessalonika. “Look, they’re gone.”

“They must have run away,” said Aunt Japonica. “Formica, do your horses run away?”

Aunt Formica shook her head grimly. “No,” she said. “Never. They’re far too loyal for that.”

It was left to me to say what everyone else was thinking.

“They’ve been stolen,” I said. “Rustled.”

Aunt Formica nodded. “I’m afraid you’re right, Harriet,” she said. “We’ve been made fools of. Absolute fools!”

We stood under the trees where we had tied the horses and looked around. There was no sign of what had happened. There was no evidence that the horses had put up a struggle; they must simply have been led off by the rustlers while we were up the hill. It must have been the easiest theft the rustlers had been able to carry out for a long time—even easier than stealing cattle.