Contents
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1 Where Is Justice?
2 Rattled!
3 A Chilling Call
4 The Jawbone Talks
5 A Reflection of Danger
6 The Puzzle Deepens
7 A Mountain Menace
8 Bess Tumbles for Lincoln
9 A Few Pieces Fit
10 Bad Times at the Badlands
11 Braving the Badger’s Lair
12 More Pieces Turn Up
13 Peril in the Pines
14 Finding the Mother Lode
15 All the Pieces Fit
1. Where Is Justice?
Nancy Drew looked out over the rolling hills of
pasture. In the distance she could see a herd of huge
brown animals walking slowly through the green and
gold grass. Behind them, jagged mountain peaks cut
into the horizon. “They have the best profile of any
animal ever,” she said.
“I love their legs,” Nancy's friend George Fayne
said. Leaning against the corral fence, she held up a
hand to shield her brown eyes from the South Dakota
sun. “Buffalo have these humongous heads and bodies,
but such skinny legs.”
“But those legs are super strong,” came a voice
behind them. “They can run at thirty-five miles an hour
for a half hour straight. That's faster than a horse and
rider at top speed.” Nancy and George turned to greet
their hostess, Kincaid Turner. “Bess will be here in a
minute,” Kincaid added. “She wanted to change her
sweater.”
“Typical,” George muttered. “We got here an hour
ago, and Bess has already changed clothes twice.”
Bess Marvin was George's cousin, even though they
were physical opposites. George was tall, slim, and
athletic, with dark hair and eyes. Bess was shorter with
a fuller figure, and she had straw blond hair and pale
blue eyes.
“I heard that,” Bess called out as she joined them.
“And they're not buffalo,” she added, lightly jabbing
George with her elbow. “They're bison. Right,
Kincaid?”
“Strictly speaking, you're correct,” Kincaid said with
a laugh. She had a pretty face, with a cap of light brown
hair and bangs. She was tall with long slim legs. Nancy
figured she was about eighteen—the same age as
Nancy and her friends.
“Real buffalo live in Asia and Africa, and they don't
look like these guys at all,” Bess continued. “But people
have been calling American bison buffalo for so long,
it's become their other name. Even the locals call them
buffalo.” She gestured to the small sign over the corral:
M-Bar-B Buffalo Ranch.
“I'm impressed,” Kincaid said. “You were paying
attention after all.”
“Hey, I learned a lot from all those times I've visited
here,” Bess said. “I'm so happy Nancy and George
could come this time even though the circumstances
aren't the best.”
“I am, too,” Kincaid said. “I sure hope you can help
us, Nancy.” Kincaid looked so upset that Nancy
thought she might burst into tears. Then Kincaid took a
deep breath and clenched her hands into fists. “This is
just tearing up my folks. We've got to catch the rustlers
soon or we'll be out of business.”
“Don't worry,” Bess said, putting an arm around
Kincaid's shoulder. “Nancy will figure this out. She's
the best.”
Kincaid led them through the corral that surrounded
the area at the front of the huge barn. “Bess said you've
already lost thirty animals,” Nancy said. She shook her
head and brushed strands of reddish blond hair out of
her bright blue eyes.
“That was last week,” Kincaid said. “Ten more
disappeared a couple of days ago. Dad's out now with
some hands moving the herd in closer.”
“Closer?” George asked.
“Usually, we let them have the run of our thousand
acres,” Kincaid said.
“Wow,” Nancy said, impressed by the size of the
ranch.
“We have over three hundred head of bison. Even
on a thousand acres there's not enough wild oats, rye,
and grass to keep that many bison happy. So we also
give them feedlot supplement,” Kincaid explained.
“Now with all the rustling, Dad has to bring the herd in
closer and build new fence so we can keep them nearer
to the ranchhouse compound. This means we'll have to
give them more feedlot supplement, which costs
money.”
As they entered the barn, they heard a huge
bellowing roar echo from the distance. “Was that a
mountain lion?” George asked.
“Nope,” Kincaid said, her golden brown eyes
twinkling with amusement. “Just one of the bulls from
our herd showing off.”
“The corral has a wood fence,” Nancy said. “But
what about the fence around your ranch itself, around
the thousand acres of pasture. What's it made of?”
“Wire,” Kincaid said. “For horses or cattle you need
a fence five feet high. For bison, it has to be eight feet.
The top few rows of wire are barbed. The lower rows
aren't.”
“What are the rustlers getting out of this?” Nancy
asked. “How much are buffalo—bison—worth?”
“Just say buffalo,” Kincaid said, smiling. “We switch
back and forth between the two names. A two-year-old
is worth at least sixteen hundred dollars. Good
breeding stock can be worth more.”
“I was here when a calf named Lulu was born,” Bess
said. “She was unbelievable—a rusty brown color. She
looked like a fifty-pound cinnamon ball. Kincaid hand-
raised her and showed her in exhibitions and
competitions—she was a real pet.”
“You won't believe it, but she's a mother now,”
Kincaid said.
“Wow!” Bess answered.
“She had a calf herself a few weeks ago,” Kincaid
added. “I named him Justice after my grandfather. I'm
going to raise him as I did her. Lulu's still real tame,
and she's wonderful.”
“Where are they?” Bess said. “I'd love to see them.
Do you think she'll remember me?”
“Probably,” Kincaid said. “She's really smart. I have
them in one of my secret places, isolated from the rest
of the herd. Cows like to keep to themselves when they
give birth, and I want to keep Justice safe for a few
more weeks. Don't want him to get bumped or
bruised. We'll ride out to see them after lunch.”
The girls spent the rest of the morning touring the
ranch. Then they went back to the house for lunch.
“This is the best hamburger I've ever had, Mrs.
Turner,” Geo
rge said, after swallowing her first bite.
“Actually, it's a buffalo burger,” Mrs. Turner said, an
amused look in her beautiful large brown eyes.
Kincaid's mother, Melissa Turner, was tall and slim like
her daughter. Brown-black hair framed her pretty face.
After lunch Kincaid helped Nancy, Bess, and
George saddle up for their ride out to see Lulu and
Justice.
“Bess, you can have Miss Penny,” Kincaid said, as
Bess headed immediately for the stall of a beautiful
copper-colored mare with a rippling mane. The horse
whinnied as Bess approached.
“I think she remembers me from the last time I was
here,” Bess said, stroking the horse's head as she
talked.
“Could be,” Kincaid replied as she led out a large
black horse with a jagged streak of white across its
nose. “This is Flash,” she said, smiling at George. “I
think you'll like him.”
While George saddled up, Kincaid took Nancy to
where two Appaloosas waited impatiently. “You're
ready for a run, aren't you, Misty?” Kincaid asked. One
she neared.
“Nancy, you can have Paha Sapa,” Kincaid said,
handing Nancy the reins of the other Appaloosa. “Paha
Sapa is the Sioux name for the Black Hills.”
When everyone was finally ready, Kincaid led them
out of the barn and up a trail that cut across the ranch.
It was a clear, sunny day, and Nancy felt as if she
could see forever. At first they rode through flat
pasture, but then the ground began to roll into the low
hills of the Great Plains.
The horses stepped through green prairie grasses
and bright-colored wildflowers. Shadows from the
clouds threw patches of grayish purple across the
ground. Occasionally a soft wind would kick up, strong
enough to ruffle the horses' manes and swirl dust and
tumbleweeds across the path.
“This is so beautiful,” Bess said with a sigh. “I always
love coming here.”
“I can see why,” Nancy said, smiling.
“I feel like cutting loose a little,” Kincaid said.
“Anybody else game?”
“I'm ready,” George called, and the others nodded
their agreement. Following Kincaid's lead, 11 icy
guided their horses off the trail. Within minutes they
were galloping across a field of buttercups at full speed.
When Kincaid finally pulled up Misty, the others
followed her lead, bringing their panting horses to a
stop.
“I knew Bess was good, but you two are excellent
riders, too,” Kincaid said to George and Nancy. “If I
didn't know any better, I'd think you all grew up on a
ranch or a farm.” As she talked she led the others over
to a small pond, where she reined her horse in to a
stop.
“I don't ride as often as I'd like,” Nancy said.
“That's because you're too busy solving crimes and
working on cases,” George said.
“Well, I sure hope you can help us,” Kincaid said,
climbing down from her horse. “We've got to stop this
rustling, or we'll be bankrupt.” She led her horse to the
edge of the pond and dropped the reins, so he could
drink.
Bess slid down and led Miss Penny to the pond. The
others followed her lead. While the horses drank and
rested, Nancy and the others sat on a rocky
outcropping and talked.
“Who might be rustling your family's herd?” Nancy
asked Kincaid. “Do you have any suspects?”
“My dad is sure it's Badger Brady,” Kincaid
answered, making a face.
“From the look on your face, I take it he's not one of
your favorite people,” George said.
“He's not,” Kincaid said. “He's Dad's chief com-
petitor—has his own ranch near the Badlands. Dad
thinks he's trying to drive us out of business. They've
had some bad history together. They were in business
together once—ten years ago, but it went bankrupt.
Dad says it was Badger's fault. Dad's sure Badger stole
money from the business, but he couldn't prove it.
They had a huge fight and haven't spoken to each other
since—except to yell when they run into each other.”
“But if they've had this feud for that long, why
would Badger start rustling now?” Nancy asked.
“This isn't the first thing he's tried,” Kincaid said.
She stood up and began pacing back and forth. Nancy
could see that she was very upset. “He's been causing
us trouble for years. He filed a libel suit against Dad
for some of the things he believes Dad has said, paid
one of our ranch hands to mess up our accounting
books, and even started his own bison ranch as
competition.”
“But why does your dad think he's started rustling?”
Nancy persisted.
“Dad heard Badger is having a really hard time
financially lately,” Kincaid said. “He's had to let go of
most of his ranch hands. He even sold some of his
breeding stock. It figures that it would be a lot easier
for him if he could drive us out of business.”
“Does your dad have any proof that Badger Brady
“Nope,” Kincaid said with a sigh. “Nothing.
Whoever it is, he—or she—hasn't left any clues so far.”
She walked over to Misty, who stood patiently waiting.
Stroking the horse's thick neck, Kincaid said, “Well,
what about it, old girl? You ready to go see Justice?”
The four climbed back in their saddles and
continued the journey to the area where Kincaid had
isolated Justice and his mother Lulu.
When they had ridden another fifteen minutes, they
came to a hill of rock that had a distinctive flat top. The
sides of the hill were covered in dark green brush and
purple prairie clover. Kincaid pulled her horse around
to face the others and said, “The corral and shelter are
right around this mesa. Let's dismount and walk the
rest of the way. I don't want to startle Lulu.”
As they walked, leading their horses, Nancy watched
Kincaid. For the first time that day, the worries of the
world seemed to leave her friend.
“I can't wait until you see him,” Kincaid said. “He's
the cutest baby I've ever seen.”
As they rounded the small hill, Nancy felt a sudden
stab of alarm as she looked at the scene before her.
The corral gate was open. Beyond was a large heap of
rubble—large chunks and slabs of wood were tangled
with piles of grasses and hay.
“Oh no!” Kincaid cried. “They're gone! Justice and
Lulu are gone!”
2. Rattled!
Kincaid ran through the open corral gate, followed
closely by Nancy, Bess, and George. Quickly she began
tearing through the splintered wood and scattered piles
of feed.
“Be careful, Kincaid,” Nancy warned. “
Don't hurt
yourself.”
“This was the shelter,” Kincaid said. Nancy could
see tears starting to flood the young woman's eyes.
“This pile of wood was Justice and Lulu's shelter.”
They all looked at the mess. “It looks like it's been
hacked by an axe,” Bess murmured, shaking her head.
“This is terrible,” Kincaid said. “This isn't like the
other rustlings. They didn't destroy stuff like this.”
“Is it possible that this isn't related to the other
rustlings?” Nancy asked gently. “Could this have been
done by someone else?”
“What do you mean?” Kincaid said, her voice shaky,
her eyes wide with shock.
“If the method is different, it could mean this was
done by a different criminal,” Nancy said, checking the
ground.
“What are you looking for?” Kincaid asked.
“Anything that might tell us something about what
happened here,” Nancy murmured. “Do these look like
they could be Lulu's and Justice's prints?”
Kincaid crouched to check out the spot where
Nancy was pointing. “Yes,” she said. “See? These
would be Lulu's, and the little ones would be Justice's.”
Nancy and the others followed the trail out of the
corral for about thirty yards. Then the prints disap-
peared. “The wind has been pretty heavy off and on
today,” Nancy said. “Maybe it kicked the dust up and
hid the tracks.”
“Wait,” Kincaid said. “We can check that out.” She
pulled up a clump of tall, stiff prairie grass and used it
like a brush to remove the top layer of dirt. “I do this
when I come across what might be a prehistoric dig site
and I don't have any brushes with me. It works just
fine.”
The others watched her graze the tips of the grass
across the dirt. Slowly, the hoofprints came back into
sight. “There,” she said. “See? It worked.”
“Wow,” George said. “You have to be so careful not
to brush away the prints themselves.”
“Well, it helps that the dirt is so hard in this area.
When it packs and dries, it's almost like clay.”
She continued to brush the dirt away. Then they
followed the trail of the two animals another twenty