A Mess on the Mesa

Chapter Three: Jokers Wild

Day Three, Broken Arrow ranch, Silver Spruce ranch

Another nightmare had interrupted their sleep. He was more reluctant to talk than before. Daphne hadn't pushed, only watched him with those emerald green eyes, letting him come to terms with the fear and anxiety caused by the nightmare. Those eyes that could hold him spellbound for hours, or tease him with a single wink. In the end he had succumbed to those enticing eyes and began to speak.

Daphne was gone! His two pronged self appointed mission was to protect her, keep her safe. He had failed...again! Now he had another mission: find her. He was alone in a misty land; fog lay like a white shroud, thick, swirling around him, parting to let him pass then closing behind him. The only sounds were the sounds of waves crashing on a shore he couldn't see. From the sound the shore lay to his right, what lay to the left he was in no hurry to find out. There was no way to determine the passing of time; or how far he had walked or in what direction as far as that went.

He didn't understand why or how the fog thinned but it did. Enough to see Daphne slung over a apparition's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The wraith was walking away from him; he started to run after the specter but the faster he ran, the faster the wraith moved away.

He yelled, screamed in frustration and rage. He could see Daphne calling for him, holding out her arms toward him but he couldn't hear her over the crashing waves. And then the dark cloaked shadow disappeared, there one second, gone the next. Daphne was gone!

The fog returned, dense, forbidding, dampening his weeping.

If Daphne thought this was going to be an easy fix this last episode showed just how wrong that thought was. It had taken almost an hour for him to settle down enough to sleep. It had taken her a while longer as she lay there in the darkness thinking about what her boyfriend had told her. finally she had gotten out of bed, opening the window, listening to the night sounds. The sounds held no answers to her questions so she had returned to bed and let slumber overtake her.

After breakfast and a strenuous training session of how to saddle a horse and how to stay in said saddle, the little caravan made it's way along the trail single file. John led, leading a loaded burro. Thick fog hugged the ground, sending tendrils of white smoke swirling around the horse's legs. Each of the gang were quiet as they let the horses pick their way along the trail. Fred came behind John, followed by Daphne, Velma and lastly Shaggy and Scooby.

Daphne rode behind Fred mainly to observe him. She didn't like the similarity of his nightmare and the fog they traveled through now. Was it simple coincidence or had it been a portent of things to come?

The mere thought was enough to make her shudder.

She shuddered.

As the red head rode along, thinking, the revelation made her straighten in the saddle. It wasn't a mind blowing disclosure with all the answers but it was a beginning. Perhaps it was the key to understanding the nightmares. She spurred her mount forward.

-Xxxxxx

"It's not five star but it should be fine for the time you will be here." John addressed the group then turned his attention to Daphne, "Your uncle would like for you to be our guinea pigs. Depending on your stay, we may update this spread to a weekend retreat."

"We weren't expecting anything like this." Velma looked around the spacious room in which they found themselves. Old but serviceable furniture was scattered around the room.

"I did send some hands up to clean up. I wouldn't use the beds, they're pretty old, no telling what creatures have made a home in the mattresses."

"'Cowboy clean'," Shaggy dropped a load of supplies. "Works for me."

"You can arrange things later, the fireplace works so if I were you I'd sleep in here. I'd like to show you Rock Creek then I need to leave. I'm still the foreman of this spread."

The trail leading to the river was tree lined and fragrant with flowering bushes and wildflowers. The creek at the end was really a river, a combination of anger (short stretches of white water), calm (deep pools), and lots of rocks. Small ones lining the river bed, large ones sticking out of the water like wet monoliths and rocks perfect for sitting and letting hot feet be cooled by the flowing water.

"There is a waterfall about a mile upstream; plenty of trout." John pointed at several rocky places, "and several trails if you want some exercise. Stay on the trails, you'll do fine."

"John, It's all so beautiful," began Daphne, "what are you not telling us, besides the haunting part?"

She was drawn to his eyes, as dark as Freds' were light. Fred, Shaggy and Velma stood as posts planted in the green earth, watchful, waiting, fearful of the answer.

"I reckon you all deserve to know." John rested his hand on the pearl handled Colt .45 strapped to his waist, tied low like a gunfighter from another age. "It don't happen often, but occasionally a bear will wander down in search of easy prey, namely one or more of our steers. I'll be going after one such bear when I leave."

"You're not going after a bear with that peashooter are you?" Shaggy found his voice, moving protectively towards Velma.

"I brought a Remington 700 with me. It'll take down anything in these mountains. Stay close to the ranch house or on the trails, you'll be fine." He repeated then laughed, breaking the tension.

-Xxxxxx

Later, with John gone, the fireplace blazing, dinner dispensed with, it was Velma that noticed the books. She ran her hand along the spines, quickly reading the titles. Two rows of paperbacks on two shelves; adventure and mystery on the upper shelf, westerns on the lower. The collections were worn from many readings, but not recently; dust covered the tops. So much for cowboy clean. The westerns were from a wide range of authors but primarily Zane Grey.

"Guys, I know we're not here for mysteries but..."

"What is it, Velma? One of the books out of order?" Smiling, Daphne came over to stand beside Velma.

"That's just it, Daph, they're not. But there is one missing. Look for yourself." She pointed at the line of westerns all neatly arranged by author. In the Zane Grey section a gaping hole stood where one book should have rested.

"So what, Velma? Some cowboy liked it and took it with him. No mystery or mystery solved, take your pick."

"Maybe. I'm not a western fan but I bet I know which book is missing."

"And how do you deduce that, Ms. Sherlock?"

"Elementary, my dear Daphne. Zane Grey wrote a lot of books but one stands out that established the traditional western story. "Riders of the Purple Sage" is a western classic. I'm betting that's the one missing."

"Again, so what? The cowboy who took it will bring it back next time he comes through. Let's play some cards or something. No mysteries allowed." A deck of cards was found in a sideboard so old the Salvation Army would have second thoughts on taking it.

"Your idea, Daph. You shuffle and you pick what we play. Guys against us gals?"

"I saw a cribbage board, everyone knows how to play. Best two out of three?" Daphne went through the deck, setting a joker aside and began to shuffle.

"Why only one Joker?" Velma mused.

"I said, 'no mysteries this trip'. So there is only one Joker, it probably got bent or something."

"Daph, my mystery sense is tingling. I'll grant one or the other but a missing classic western and a missing Joker? Gang, I think we have two mysteries to solve."

"You and your tingling senses, I'll give you a tingle later after we beat you girls." Shaggy placed his arm around her shoulder, giving her a hug.

"Only one?" Velma smiled, kissing his cheek.

Lying in his arms later, Velma pondered the significance of a missing book and a playing card, both of which were not where they should be. She was sure they were related, but how? Well, she was where she should be and wanted to be; she snuggled closer to his warm body and listened to the lullaby of the night.

TBC