Anything but a Diamond

Anything but a Diamond

By: Leah Pugh

Published by Mystic Mustangs Publishing

Copyright © 2015 by Leah Pugh

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Special Thanks

Thank you Rick and Peter for your critiques no matter how big or small they were. David, it was awesome of you to help with the cover for the book, I really do appreciate it. Thank you, Mr. Leroy, for teaching me how to saddle a horse and properly hold the reigns and for patiently answering any questions I had about horses. And a special big thank you to Hannah Krieger for editing this book in and getting it back to me in a professional and timely manner.

Prologue

Gotcha! Minx whirled around the corner, only to frown in disappointment. Where’d the apparition disappear to now? he wondered.

Hey, Minx Tenderfoot, forget to take yer medicine, again? Jared Young taunted the other boy.

No, I didn’t forget anything. Minx tried to keep the anger out of his voice, as he turned and faced his co-worker. I’m telling you, I saw someone running across the yard.

Maybe it was a fairy, or something. Jared spat tobacco juice on the ground, allowing a good portion of it to stain the side of the bright red barn wall.

You know Mr. Lesler doesn’t want you spitting tobacco around the barn, Minx said, quietly.

I’ll spit where I please! Don’t be telling me what to do, Tenderfoot, Jared growled. Minx suddenly had to lower his gaze. The tobacco Jared was chewing stuck to his front teeth making it look like the punk was missing a couple of teeth. As much as he wanted to burst out laughing, Minx knew Jared would try to use it as a reason to get him fired.

Quit calling me Tenderfoot, Minx snapped.

Yer dumb when it comes to cattle.

But I’m not dumb when it comes to horses.

Yeah right. Ya don’t know one enda horse from another. I came here to tell ya Sheriff wants ya to show him how yer horse training’s coming along.

Where is he?

He’s in the corral with Mr. Lesler. He said to bring yer horse outta the barn and to him. Jared spat another stream at the wall, making an imaginary bull’s eye mark about two feet above the ground. Ya’ll do so bad, ya’ll be kicked outta here ‘fore ya can cry fer yer mommy.

Minx could feel the familiar flame of anger ignite in him. How does Jared manage to get under my skin so fast and often? Don’t push it, Jared. He ground the words out through clenched teeth, his temper simmering and threatening to explode like a volcano.

Oh, watcha gonna do, Tiny? Jared stood nose-to-nose with Minx, the former being at least an inch taller than the latter. Punch me in the nose?

You’re not worth the effort, Minx retorted.

Don’t ya dare speak to Jared that way!

Minx turned and saw Jepson heading their way. Oh boy, he mentally groaned. Here it comes now.

Iffen I catch ya mouthing off to my boy one more time, I’ll whoop the seat of yer pants till ya won’t be able sit fer a week. Jepson placed a protective hand on Jared’s shoulder and glowered at Minx.

Ya heard him, punk. Jared smirked. Minx knew the guy was going to be on his ‘worst’ behavior. Jared now had a friend to back him up and, Minx didn’t.

I’m going, Minx growled low in his throat.

Whatcha trying to prove with yer deep voice? That yer a tough, dude? Yeah, right. Jepson laughed, obnoxiously. Ya ain’t hardly good fer nothing, Taylor.

Minx clenched his hands into fists as he spun around on his heel and marched inside the barn. One of these days, Jared, you’ll go too far and there’ll be no one to keep you safe! he muttered under his breath. He nodded at Dean, one of the many cowhands, as his co-worker left the barn.

Hey, Minx. Dean was busy stuffing something into his back pocket. He angled his body to make sure the youth couldn’t see what it was. Eight weeks till my little one’s here. I can’t believe it. Me, a dad. He chuckled and shook his head, before turning serious and looking steadily into the youth’s eyes. You okay, man?

Just need to see Sheriff.

Hey. He put a work-toughened hand on Minx’s shoulder. Don’t let them get to you. They’re just a bunch of heartless jerks. They’ll get it in the end one day, don’t you worry. He patted the latter’s shoulder encouragingly as he left. See you around.

Yeah, Minx entered the barn and was focused on trying to come up with ways to get back at Jared. He didn’t notice the chaffs of hay falling from the loft, until a giant sneeze almost ripped his nose off his face. He looked up just in time to see a dark shadow jerk away from the opening of the loft. Curiosity took its long fingers, grabbed his sweaty shirt collar and yanked him up the ladder.

Wait, I just want to talk to you, he called to the shadow, more than certain it was the thing he’d spotted in the barnyard.

Go away! a voice wafted to him through the dusty air when he poked his head above the opening. There’s danger here! The voice sounded so young and full of fear, he couldn’t guess if it was a boy or a girl. Minx envisioned a five year old cowering behind one of the hay bales next to the chute.

Pulling himself up through the opening, Minx started walking through the semi-darkness of the hayloft. I don’t want to hurt you – oof! He tripped over something and fell face first into a pile of hay.

After spending a minute of spitting the dry grass out of his mouth, he looked around to find the culprit that’d tripped him. His eyes widened when he caught sight of a small wooden box, no bigger than one of his mom’s jewelry cases. He carefully picked it up for a closer inspection. It was seven inches wide, eight inches long and six inches deep. There was no latch, so the unadorned lid opened very easily. For the second time in thirty seconds, his eyes widened again.

A small, green screen about an inch wide and three inches long stared blankly back at him. Blue and red wires were attached, not only to the screen but to a tiny black button no bigger than a postage stamp. He stood to his feet, holding the object up to the light.

Well, what do you know? he whispered in excitement, failing to see an angry face glowering not eight feet behind him. The shadowy figure carefully snuck up on its unsuspecting prey. Crystal will definitely want to see this! Minx suddenly smelled something extremely funny, like extra sweet candy.

Without warning, something dark was shoved over his head and his feet were knocked out from underneath him. The floor whacked him as hard as Mama’s paddle and the box was roughly yanked out of his hands.

Chapter One - Two of ‘Em!

Ow, Mama! Ow! Emma cried and held her right index finger in her other hand as she ran madly for Mom. He bit me! She dropped dramatically onto the creek bank next to our mother, who was sitting on a nice patch of grass, and attempted to elbow the quilt Mom was working on out of her hands.

A crawdad bit you? Mom tenderly took her youngest daughter into her lap. Oh goodness, Emmy, you smell like the creek! Mom gagged and looked away to show her disgust at Emma’s scent.

Don’t laugh, Mama! I wanna band-aid!

You’re fine, I called out from my position in the ankle deep water. You’re not bleeding to death.

What if I’m bleeding inside of me? Can I have a band-aid, Mama? Emma fussed.

My little sister, Emma, can be such a baby when it comes to injuries. She thinks that if she pokes herself, even if the skin isn’t broken, she’ll need a visit to the ER. Mom must’ve gotten over the creek stench, because she cuddled her baby girl close.

I see a teeny-tiny, itty bitty mark right there. She kissed the tip of Emma’s finger.

Thanks, Mama. It feels better already. Emma gave her a hug. Their hair color almost matched perfectly, except Emma’s hair was more of a rooster red and Mom’s was ketchup red. Can we come to the creek and catch crawdads every day?

We can’t. Especially when you have school, Mom said.

I’ll swim with the fishies and then I’d be in school, was Emma’s quick response.

I threw my head back and laughed merrily. Good one, Emma.

Thanks, Crissy.

It was O’Mally family day, and we’d decided to go to the park with the creek and see who could catch the most crawdads. The sun was shining, there were hardly any clouds in the sky and even though my head was sweltering, it was cool underneath the sweet gum and sycamore trees bordering the creek bank. The atmosphere was full of good cheer and laughter. Birds chirped to one another and flew back and forth between the trees. A blue jaw had tried to dive bomb me earlier, but wound up with a beak full of water.

The cool water swirled around my ankles and down some rocks, creating a mini waterfall, as if I weren’t in the way. I did my best to avoid stepping on the slimy water moss. Or worse yet, in the snot green algae! Bleck! The pebbles punched and poked at my bare feet.

My finger still kinda hurts, Mama, Emma said.

Here, I’ll set it right, me lass, Dad called out. He was standing in a deeper section of the water, where it comes up to the lower calf. He bent down, grabbed a tiny black crawdad and held it up to eye level with himself. See here, you can’t touch me baby and think you can get away with it. Next time, I won’t be so gentle, I won’t. Now, go home to your old man! He tossed the creature back in the water. It made a slight ‘plop’ and a bit of a splash when it landed. Better, Emmy?

You’re funny, Daddy. Emma giggled, as she finally came back into the water. Her emerald green eyes, the source of her name, lit up brightly with eager anticipation as she reached down and grabbed a rock to skip. I’m gonna throw this one all the way to Australia. Her hair was coming out of its ponytail and the wayward curls were starting to flop all over the place.

Don’t hurt yourself, Emma, Dad cautioned.

I’m gonna stand next to you for luck, Daddy, she informed him as she came to stand beside him in the creek. At first glance, he appeared to be no relation to Emma or me, especially since he had blond hair and ours were red. But he did have the same smiles as us, as well as similar eye coloring.

Oh, am I brin’in’ you the luck ‘o the Irish, lass? His lilting Irish accent defined his heritage and even though he was born in the United States, Dad somehow managed to retain the accent that girls go nuts over. He stood tall, literally and his six foot height made my sister’s four foot eight height seem extremely short.

Give it your best shot, I dared her and brushed some of my own brick red curls out of my face and behind my ear. Using my hand, I shaded my green eyes from the glare of the sun and could feel the sunscreen I’d put on my fair skin start to sweat off.

If some guy can go ‘round the world in eighty days, then I can go ‘round the world in eighty skips. Cocking her arm back as if she were a famous, baseball pitcher, she threw the rock as hard as she could. The only splash it made on the world was a big one three feet in front of her. Aw phooey! What’d I do wrong?

Maybe you’re too young, I teased. You’re only eight.

And you’re only sixteen, she shot back.

You threw it too hard, lass, Dad answered her question. Try again. He chuckled with amusement as she made another feeble attempt at skipping rocks. Third time’s the charm.

Have you picked the menu for your party tomorrow?

I want hot dogs and cake abode.

Cake abode? You mean adobe colored cake?

No, you know how when I sometimes have ice cream with my apple pie? You call it pie abode.

Oh, it’s called ‘a la mode.’

Mr. O’Mally! The shout had all three of us turning around.

Terra was standing on the bank next to Mom. She was waving frantically at us, crossing her arms wildly as if she were doing jumping jacks. Terra was, not Mom.

Wonder what she’s doin’ here. Dad frowned with concern. It’s not five o’clock yet, is it?

Better go see what she wants, Daddy, Emma suggested, as she grabbed yet another rock.

Maybe someone’s stealing your jewelry again. I noticed Dad’s eyes hardened at my remark.

They’d better not be, he said.

Dad owns the only jewelry store in the town I live in, Alamo. He’s been this town’s only jeweler for almost twenty years and after nearly losing everything last month, he was now getting more business than he could handle. Luckily, he was able to hire a few new associates and have Terra, my best friend, become second in command. Terra was supposed to be at work, so to see her standing next to Mom, wearing a worried frown on her face, was pretty bothersome indeed.

I wanna come here for my birthday day after tomorrow, Emma announced.

Doubtful the aunts and uncles will want their kids going home smelling like they just walked out of a creek, I pointed out.

"They will walk out of a creek. It’ll be oodles and noodles of fun, Crystal."

Your party. Not mine. I playfully threw a handful of water at her.

I’m gonna get you for that! She squealed. Reacting quickly, she cupped her slightly chubby hands and filled them to overflowing with water.

You’ll have to catch me first! I slid and slipped as I ran out of the water and into the grass.

Slow down! She panted. I can’t run as fast as you.

I slowed down only a teeny bit and led her on a merry chase around the park, until Dad yelled our names. And he didn’t just yell our first names. No, he threw our middles names in there as well. He usually does that whenever he wants us to come on the double.

Crystal Elizabeth! Emerald Grace!

Coming! The two of us chorused in unison. The race to him took only three and a half seconds and for once, I let my sister win. I was definitely winded from all the former running.

Terra was standing next to Dad and at a nod from him, she turned to me.

You’ve got a job, girl, Terra said.

A job? I was leaning over and holding my legs as I breathed in and out, great big deep breaths, desperately trying to catch my breath. Am I legally old enough to assume one?

Another mystery’s fallen into your lap, she said. I got a call from a Joshua Lesler, the new rancher in town, asking if you could come out to his ranch and see who’s sabotaging it.

How’d he get my number? I was finally able to stand up straight and breathe normally.

Technically it’s your dad’s number and it is printed on the little business cards we sometimes hand out.

Oh, right. I forgot. I ducked my head sheepishly.

Anyhoo, Mr. Lesler called the store and asked for you. When I told him you weren’t in, he wanted me to pass along a message, she answered.

What message? Emma jumped up and down like a kangaroo.

I just told you, silly. Terra tickled Emma’s tummy. He wants Crystal to stop by and help him solve a mystery.

How about it, Dad? I bounced up and down on my wet and grass covered toes.

You only finished up a mystery a month ago, Dad interjected. Don’t you think rest is in order?

I’ve had a few weeks to rest up. Please, Dad.

Yeah, it’s almost my birthday and I wanna solve a mystery like Crystal did on her birthday, Emma piped up. She leaned against Dad’s arm and gave him an adorable smile. Pretty please?

Catherine? Dad looked down at his wife.

Mmm. Mom cocked her head to the side and studied her two daughters. I think it’d be fun for Emma to solve a mystery leading up to her birthday, like her sister.

Talk about a serious case of copy-cat! Please, just let me go, I silently begged my parents. They really need to work on their mind reading skills, because they encouraged both of us, especially O’Mally junior, to head to the car so we could leave.

I can drive you home, Mrs. O’Mally, Terra offered. So your husband can take the girls to the ranch.

Did this Mr. Lesler leave directions to his place? I brushed the soggy grass off my feet before sliding them into my blue and brown speckled sandals.

Thanks for reminding me. Terra reached into her pocket and handed me a folded piece of paper. Art wasn’t my major in college. So good luck deciphering what it says. Her coke bottle glasses were gone and contacts were in their place. Her pug nose had two imprints on either side of her eyes, telling people she used to wear glasses. Her blond hair was pulled back in a braid and her brown eyes were missing their usual sparkle.

I think I’ll go along with Brian and the girls. I’d like to see how the girls work on a case, Mom answered. Thank you anyway.

You’re welcome. Terra gave us a cheerful wave as she walked to her car.

Joshua Lesler, Dad was muttering to himself. Why does his name rin’ every bell in me head?

Isn’t he the stranger who came in the store a few weeks ago to ask directions to the surveyor’s office? I questioned.

Now that you mention it, he sounds like one and the same. Dad agreed. Everyone load in! We’re off to see a rancher!

During the ride to the ranch, my mind flashed back to when I first laid eyes on the lanky rancher. From what I could remember, his hair was a muddy brown, his face tanned and he wore denims. And he didn’t say anything to me. Those were the only tidbits about Mr. Lesler I could remember. Let’s see what kind of a mystery he has for me.

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Wow! Real cowboys! Emma’s eyes were bugging out of her head as she jumped out of the car and tumbled down in the dirt. Instead of bawling, she got back to her feet and stared in wonder at the world around her.

Cowboys rode around on horses, looking strong and macho. Wait, wouldn’t ‘strong and macho’ be one and the same? Oh, well. The horses varied in color, from grayish white, to dark brown, black and even a few tan ones. All of the animals were strong and healthy looking and the men who rode them had huge muscles and deeply tanned faces, except for one guy who had a face that was whiter than snow, on a crisp winter day. His pale blond hair was all messed up and some bits of it stuck straight up. He had a sour attitude about him and kept jerking the reins on the horse he was walking.

A middle-aged man approached the four of us Ya Taylor’s family?. He was a little shorter than six feet; I’m guessing maybe five foot eight. His hair was a mixture of pasty brown and iron gray.

No, Mr. Lesler sent for us, I answered, somewhat hesitantly.

I’m the foreman, Phillip Marshall. He stuck a weathered hand out to me.

Nice to meet you. I’m Crystal O’Mally. This is my sister, Emma, and my parents. I studied the man in front of me as I shook his hand. Weather and time had played a major role in aging the foreman. His high forehead was creased with lines so deep, I was sure I could swim in them.

The crow’s feet around his eyes were so pronounced, no doubt from constant squinting, it almost looked like he had no eyes. I glanced down to study his hands and saw the one I had shaken now hanging casually at his side while the other rested on his hip. From what I could see, his hands were covered with scars, rope burns and years of hard work. He must have caught me staring them, because he chuckled deep in his throat, a growling sound and asked,

Ya like looking at hands, little lady? he asked, his voice still deep and gravelly sounding.

Sometimes. I hate it when people call me little!

They’ve seen their share of hard work. He held his hands up and looked at them. Ya can tell a whole lot just by looking at a person’s hands.

Where is Mr. Lesler? Emma piped up from her place at Dad’s side.

He’s in the barn with the horses. I’ll take ya to him.

Do we follow him, Daddy? Emma hissed.

I’m here. He can’t do anythin’ while I’m here, Dad assured her.

Emma turned back to the foreman. "Lead the way.

I didn’t wait for him to start moving and instead began walking toward what I thought was a barn. The building looked pretty weird. This barn was two stories high and was painted a bright shade of red. Almost the exact shade of the Texas dirt it was built on. The entry way had a roof above it and the roof jutted a good five or six feet beyond the doorway. It was held into place by four extremely tall, unpainted beams. The porch was also unpainted and looked like someone had merely nailed plywood together. The white trim on the makeshift windows and along the doors was the only characteristic that made me think it was a barn.

Ya seem to know ya way ‘round here, little lady, Mr. Marshall commented.

Slow down, Crystal, Mom advised. Let’s not be rude.

I had to shuffle my feet to squelch the urge to take off running for the barn. And as we all walked on together, I looked down to see my feet kicking up little clouds of red dust.

Boy! It’s hot! I readjusted my hat to keep out the glare of the sun.

We got there soon enough and I could tell we were in the right place just by the scent. Barns usually stink to high heaven and back and this one was no exception. The stink made me recoil, as if I’d been shoved by an unseen hand. I gagged and waved my hand in front of my nose so fast, my bangs bounced a little. Just inside the open barn door, a man stood on the side of a beautiful black horse, tenderly brushing her coat.

Boss, Mr. Marshall called out. Visitors.

Boss turned around and a look of relief crossed his features. I knew from the gray at his temples he was nearing thirty, but his darkly tanned face made him look at least thirty-five. His forest green T-shirt covered in black stains seemed to accent his tanned, muscular arms. His muddy brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail that curled into a little ringlet. He quickly crossed the room and stuck a dirt-encrusted hand out to me. Realizing the condition of his hand, Boss hastily brushed it against his already stained jeans and re-stuck it out.

Joshua Lesler. Ya the O’Mally family? His rolling baritone voice was pleasant to listen to.

Yes we are. I so do not want to touch whatever’s on his hand! Yet I can’t be rude. I swallowed yet another gag as I accepted the outstretched hand. The dirt and whatever was on his hand felt gritty and a little damp. I was oh so glad when I could wipe the dirt off of me and onto my pant leg.

How you doin’?" Dad shook the rancher’s hand. He didn’t seem the least bit grossed out by the grime on the other man’s hand.

Thank you, Sheriff. Mr. Lesler nodded his thanks to the foreman. I’ll take it from here.

I’m still waiting for Taylor’s family to git here and pick up the kid , Mr. Marshall commented. I’ll let ya know when they git here.

Good deal. Mr. Lesler nodded.

Nice to meet you, Mr. Marshall, Emma said politely.

Please, call me Sheriff. Everyone does. He tipped his cowboy hat to us. Much obliged.

Ya must be Crystal. Mr. Lesler motioned to Mom.

She threw her head back and laughed merrily. You flatter me, Mr. Lesler.

Please, call me Joshua. Mr. Lesler makes me think of my dear departed pop. May he rest in peace.

You’re very kind, Mr. Joshua, but I’m the mother. Mom placed two proud hands on both her daughters’ shoulders. My girls are the detectives, not me.

The happy look disappeared from Mr. Lesler’s face and doubt replaced it. "This is Crystal?"

You said you needed help catching a saboteur? I asked hopefully.

I did, he drawled out slowly. It’s jest I was expecting someone a little older.

"This is me oldest, Crystal. She’s the one who found the diamond," Dad said flatly.

What about me, Daddy? Emma cried.

I wasn’t about to forget you, honey. Dad drew Emma alongside me. And this is me youngest, Emma.

I’m Crystal’s side-kick, she informed Mr. Lesler. I helped her in her last mystery.

Are ya sure? Mr. Lesler looked me over with a critical eye, as if I were a steer he planned on making a bid on at a cattle auction. I felt my temper start to simmer and bubble as I drew myself up to my full height.

Yes, sir. I’m the one who found the diamond. Minx can testify, he was with me when I found it, I said as respectfully as I could.

Minx? As in Minx Taylor? Mr. Lesler demanded.

Yes, sir. Does he have a problem with me being such a young detective?

Taylor, is this true? Mr. Lesler looked over my head at someone behind me.

I whirled around and saw Minx sitting on a large bale of hay. His eyes were shut and his tan face was pale and full of pain. He opened his eyes revealing their tar black color and gave me a half-hearted grin. His matching black hair was matted with dirt and dried sweat and he was moving as little as possible. His postage stamp sized goatee was also a little matted with dirt and I noticed he wasn’t wearing his earring, even though I could see the hole in his left ear.

Yes, Mr. Lesler, it’s true. I was there when she found it and if you don’t mind my saying, sir, she acted giddier than a kid at Christmas, Minx replied, wincing as he tried to grin.

What happened to you? I demanded as I flew to Minx’s side and knelt beside the bale. Are you sick? Were you thrown by a horse?

No, but it sure feels like it. Somebody thumped me good. He squeezed my hand and whispered, Thanks for coming. Aloud he said, I’ll let Mr. Lesler tell his tale. Mine intertwines with his.

Oh, very well. I want you to tell me what happened!

Mr. O’Mally, I don’t mind saying I’m highly disappointed. Doubt dripped from every word Mr. Lesler spoke. I asked the lady I spoke with at yer store to send me the detectives who found the Alamo diamond. What do I git? A couple of kids. Hey, calm down, girl. He stroked the horse’s nose as she snorted and danced a little with agitation. I’m almost done here. Promise.

Mr. Lesler, you said you wanted the famous O’Mally detectives, you did. Here they are. Dad’s voice was low, but it carried a clear message. He didn’t appreciate the way Mr. Lesler was talking down to Emma and me.

But –

Take it or leave it. It was rare when Dad got ruffled like this. When he did though, it was best not to cross him. Mr. Lesler must have guessed he’d better not annoy Dad any further. Yet, the cowboy sure didn’t look pleased with his options. For a few seconds, he and Dad had a staring contest, then Mr. Lesler dropped his gaze and sighed.

First, let me get Jezebel into her stall. The horse finally had enough of standing still and resumed her dancing. Mr. Lesler spoke softly and tenderly to the nervous horse while he slowly untied Jezebel’s lead line and brought her to her stall without mishap.

Crystal! Emma ran over to me, a look of horror on her face.

What’s up, pup? I said quickly.

We didn’t bring our notebooks! She waved her arms dramatically. How are we gonna do this?

We’ll take mental notes.

Don’t you have Daddy’s recorder with you?

Nope. Left it at the house. Hey, quit frowning at me, Emmy. I had no way of knowing I’d be coming here from the creek.

From now on, always carry it with you.

I’ll make a mental note of that.

Ha-ha. Not funny, Crystal.

I need yer help, Miss Crystal. Mr. Lesler exited the stall and wiped his hands on his jeans yet again. "I’ve got a mess on my hands and I’m plumb tired of it. As y’all know, I ain’t from around here. My dad was a well-to-do rancher and we lived about fifty miles outside of San Antonio. Dad built the ranch from nothing and by the time I was born, he’d built himself one dandy of a place. Anyway, we had ourselves a real swell foreman. His name was Walter Livingstone and he’d been working at the ranch from before I was born to just four years ago, when he retired.

I have three other siblings, but they’re scattered all across America and I’m the only one who stayed at the ranch. About five and a half years ago, Dad was helping round up some cattle in the north pasture when he suddenly had a heart attack. He never fully recovered from it and died six months later of complications. For the first time since we got here, this tough rancher seemed to choke up a little. I saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down like a fishing bobble as he tried to keep his emotions at bay so he could finish the story.

"After Dad died, Mr. Livingstone retired. It was a downright stupid thing to let him go. Almost as soon as he left, I was hit with bad luck. One of the fences was blown up and at least twenty of my horses were stolen. The police were unable to find any clues and the sabotage kept getting worse and worse. My ranch hands started getting injured, like when some were thrown by their horses or had things falling on them as they entered the barn.

My men got downright spooked and started quitting left and right. I decided to pack up and move to a small town near the Mexican border, but the bad luck followed me and struck twelve times worse than before. Needless to say, I’ve been moving for the past four years, trying to avoid bad luck, yet it’s bent on stalking me. Pretty soon, I’m not gonna have anything left to hand down to any offspring the Good Lord might give me.

Excuse me, Mr. Lesler, where does Minx come into all this? Emma spoke up. You said earlier Minx’s boo-boo – uh injury – was part of your story.

No, Taylor said that. Not me. Mr. Lesler glanced sideways at Minx, who looked like he needed an aspirin and a good night’s sleep. He was attacked by some unknown assailant.

Did they steal anything from you, Minx? She stared at him with wide eyes.

He grinned at her. No, Emmy, he didn’t take anything. Thanks for asking, though.

We don’t know if the attacker was a male or female, Mr. Lesler said quickly.

Do you have any clues you can pass along? I questioned, leaning forward in anticipation. My nerves were already tingling with the excitement of another mystery to solve. I needed as much information as possible so I could begin an investigation.

Right before I was knocked out, I heard a sound behind me and smelled something funny. Minx scrunched up his nose, obviously anticipating my next question and tried to answer it before I could ask it. It smelled like a basket of candy.

Mr. Lesler let out a snort. "Taylor,