The Legend of Deadman's Mine Read Free

really,” he said.
    Dan smiled. “Me, neither. Maybe I should be. It would make my parents happy. They complain that I spend too much time with my computer. In fact, they sent me to this dude ranch just to separate me from my computer and make sure I get plenty of fresh air and exercise.”
    â€œYou’re good with computers?” Brian asked. “Cool!” He had an idea. “I wonder if there’s a computer on the ranch.”
    â€œI know there is,” Dan said, then frowned. “The only problem is I had to promise my parents I wouldn’t touch a keyboard the entire time I was here.”
    Just then Mr. Austin walked past, and Brian immediately ran to catch up with him.
    â€œMr. Austin,” Brian asked, “would you mind if I ask you some questions?”
    â€œSure thing,” Mr. Austin said. “That’s why I’m here.” He gave Brian a big smile. “The fact is, though, I thought I’d covered everything you’d need to know.” He scratched his head. “I did mention the pool hours, didn’t I?”
    â€œMy questions aren’t about your dude ranch,” Brian explained.
    Mr. Austin gave Brian a puzzled, sideways glance. “They’re not?” he said.
    â€œNo,” Brian said. “They’re about the missing horse—Nightstar.”
    Mr. Austin looked meaningfully at Brian. “Now how in the world would you know about Nightstar?” he asked.
    â€œThat’s the thing,” said Brian. “I don’t know much more than that he was stolen.”
    Brian could tell from Mr. Austin’s confused expression that he still didn’t understand.
    â€œMy dad’s a private investigator,” explained Brian. “Someday I’d like to be one, too, and this case interests me.”
    Mr. Austin nodded, then looked at his watch. “We’ve got a few minutes,” he said, “but I don’t know if I’ll have the answers you’re looking for.”
    Great! Brian thought as he whipped out his notebook. He got right to work. “If the horse was taken out of the barn in a truck or a horse trailer,” he began, “wouldn’t somebody have heard something?”
    â€œAs Wade Morrison told me,” Mr. Austin said, “most of the ranch hands had driven into Reno to a dance and didn’t get back until around one in the morning. At the estimated time of the theft, Morrison was at home, along with a couple of hands who stayed in the bunkhouse, but they all claimed they slept soundly and didn’t hear a thing.”
    â€œDid they check for hoofprints,” Brian asked, “in case the horse was led away on foot?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact,” Mr. Austin said, “they did. But I guess the ground around the stables had been raked. There were no prints at all.”
    Brian made notes as fast as he could. Then he had a thought. “According to the map my dad showed us before we came here,” he said, drumming his pen on his notebook, “there’s only one road out of here. It’s the one that connects with the highway to Reno. Did the sheriff check to see if anyone spotted a horse trailer on the highway that night?”
    Mr. Austin shook his head in disbelief. “I do declare, son,” he said, grinning, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you already were a professional private investigator.”
    â€œThanks,” Brian said. “Well?”
    â€œWell what?” Mr. Austin asked, then remembered. “Oh, right. He checked, but nobody had.”
    A gong sounded. “That’s the call to dinner,” Mr. Austin said. “Did we take care of all your questions?”
    â€œFor now,” Brian said, flipping his notebook closed. “Thanks.”
    Mr. Austin nodded, then turned to address the campers. “The tables are outside, boys, and it’s cafeteria style. Help yourselves.” He had to quickly