Disclaimer:

For anyone deciding to proceed, may it be known that Trixie Belden, and all of her wonderful friends, take-up residence at Random House, in a magical world known as Golden Books. Sadly, I am not a part of Trixie's world, and the words following are simply a tribute, meant to help preserve her memory. In my world, I am not a professional writer, and no money will come from this project. I am just another fan with an imagination, who longs for a new Trixie mystery.

Thank you.


Chapter 1:

The Hunt is On!

"Honey Wheeler, you stop laughing this instant!" fourteen-year-old Trixie Belden demanded, her round blue eyes narrowing angrily. "I'm not kidding. I need you to turn this old sock of Brian's into a voodoo doll. I was going to do it myself, but well… I had trouble getting the needle threaded and, well… you are the seamstress of the group, you know."

Giving her best friend a dismissive shove, Honey continued to make light of the unusual request. "Let me guess," she said with another laugh. "You'd like me to give the doll a blonde crew cut and place a foot in its mouth? Am I right?" Honey, whose real name was Madeline, had earned her nickname from the bob of golden-brown hair sweeping her slim shoulders. The pretty girl was also just as sweet as her namesake. And usually, Trixie could talk the young lady into doing all kinds of crazy things.

Only currently, Miss Belden wasn't getting anywhere, and after stuffing the holey sock back into the pocket of her red jacket, she gripped her short blonde curls and tugged. Oh, why wasn't her friend taking her seriously? Wasn't it bad enough that the opening week of school had been an absolute nightmare?! Trixie had forgotten her locker combination, scored a C-minus on her first math pop quiz, and Reddy, the family's Irish setter, had honest-and-truly sat on her laptop deleting her English composition.

Hallelujah, for the long Labor Day weekend! But now, even that was ruined! So much for the teens' fun-filled Saturday down by the Wheeler's lake.

Folding her arms across her chest, the heated young lady glared up into her taller friend's humored hazel eyes. "Don't be silly," she said curtly. "If I wanted to stick pins in Mart, I wouldn't need a pin cushion." Mart was Trixie's middle brother and almost twin. The two were born eleven months apart and bickered constantly. One would never know they were secretly quite devoted to one another.

"If not Mr. Dictionary, then who are you looking to put the hex on?" Jim Frayne, Honey's adopted brother, called as he and Dan Mangan wrestled with putting up the badminton net next to the boat house. "I sure hope that doll's not supposed to have red hair and freckles?"

Jim was two years older than Trixie. He was an upstanding young man who was athletic, outdoorsy, but also quite studious. Jim had skipped a grade at school and was a senior like Trixie's oldest brother Brian.

"Ah, come on, Frayne," Dan snorted as a smirk slipped up his face. "If her target were you, she'd be asking Honey to whip a love potion, not a voodoo doll."

In response, Trixie let out a piercing squeal, and then, with a swift tackling dive, she sent the seventeen-year-old into the net and then both to the ground.

Dan was the nephew of Bill Regan, the Wheeler's groom. He was a wiry, sometimes moody young man with a razor-sharp wit. After Dan's parents died, the troubled boy had gotten mixed up with a New York City street gang. But luckily, his Uncle Bill had relocated his nephew to Sleepyside on the Hudson and found him a job with Mr. Maypenny, the Wheeler's gamekeeper. The teen now lived with Mr. Maypenny in a cabin in the middle of his employer's vast wildlife preserve.

Dan, like everyone else in the small rural community, knew that Trixie and Jim were sweet on each other. The problem was, the pair liked to hide their feelings, which made them good targets for teasing.

"You better take that back, Dan Mangan!" Trixie growled as the dark-haired boy continued to chuckle. "Honey, I think I'm going to need two dolls," she added huffily.

"I still don't know who the first one's supposed to resemble," Honey admitted with a giggle.

"Isn't it obvious?" Trixie exclaimed, bringing a frown from Jim as he moved to re-right the tangled net. "Hallie Belden, that's who!" Hallie was Trixie's thirteen-year-old cousin, and as far as the upset young lady was concerned, public enemy number one!

"Oh, Trixie," Honey sighed. "What's Hallie done now? I thought you two had worked through your differences. Why you were nearly peas in a pod when the Bob-Whites were in Idaho."

The Bob-Whites of the Glen was the name of the teenagers' semi-secret club. The purpose of the B.W.G.s was not only to have fun but to help each other and others as well. Its members included the girls, the boys struggling with the badminton net, Trixie's big brothers, and their good friend Diana Lynch.

Di, who'd gone with her family to the Poconos for the weekend, lived a stone's throw further up Glen Road in a mansion almost as lavish as the Wheeler's Manor House. The Lynches and Wheelers had tons of money, unlike their more humble neighbors, the Beldens. The Belden's home, Crabapple Farm, sat in the hollow below Manor House, and as Trixie glared down upon the cozy farmhouse, she let out an un-lady-like snort.

She and Hallie may have gotten along OK on their western camping trip, but that was only because they'd had bigger worries - like Hallie's brother Cap being kidnapped by a Sasquatch! But even then, there'd been some underlying tension.

Mr. Belden and his brother maintained that their daughters were too much alike to ever be friends. Only Trixie held the opposite was true. Oh, sure, neither girl liked getting dressed up. And both had a bad habit of talking to themselves. But in Trixie's distressed blue eyes, the likeness ended there.

The Idaho girl could have been a runway model. She'd gotten her dark good looks from the Belden side of the family, like Trixie's brother Brian. As a result, not only did Hallie tower over her shorter, rounder, blonde cousin, but she also appeared more mature for her age. In Trixie's opinion, the only girl more striking was Diana Lynch. And Di was considered to be the most beautiful girl at Sleepyside Jr. /Senior high! Maybe even in the entire state of New York!

But looks weren't everything. Hallie also had a bad habit of sticking her long nose in where it wasn't wanted. And she liked to be the center of attention, or so her cousin thought. Of course, the boys never seemed to notice - especially Dan Mangan. He'd taken a shine to the young lady during Hallie's visit when Jim's cousin Juliana had gotten married.

"Ah, come on, Trix, why Hallie?" Dan groaned, spatting away a buzzing fly.

Trixie plopped down cross-legged under the shady maple tree where Honey had spread the Bob-Whites' picnic blanket. "What's she done?" she shrieked. "Why I'll tell you what she's done, Dan Mangan! That despicable cousin of mine expects me to do her laundry and fix her dinner while she traipses through the swamps of Louisiana hunting alligators! Can you believe it?!"

Jim Frayne let out a whoop. "Hallie?! Hunting alligators?! Gleeps, Trix. You haven't been sniffing Mart's model airplane glue, have you?"

Trixie's reply was a dismissive roll of her eyes. "It's true," she insisted as the disbelieving boy took a seat beside her. "Remember a couple of weeks ago when the remnants of tropical storm Deloris dumped all that rain on us? Well, down in southern Louisiana, it was a whole lot worse, let me tell you. And Hallie's Papa LeBlanc, who lives down there, had to board up the family business."

"I'm still not following," Dan said as he and Honey joined the two out of the sun. "What's this got to do with alligator hunting? And how on Earth did you get involved?"

Trixie let out a puff of air. "Well," she went on dramatically, "Papa LeBlanc –whose Hallie's mother's father, if you haven't guessed –operates a small resort camp with the help of his two sons. During the summer months, they take their guests charter fishing on Bayou Chevrette. But in September, during alligator season, Papa LeBlanc and Hallie's uncles switch streams and offer Alligator Hunts. They are professional guides, you see. Only this year, after the devastating storm, Papa was forced by the insurance company to cancel people's reservations, and now he's stuck with no guests and over five hundred alligator tags to fill before the end of the month!"

Honey had no idea what an alligator tag was, and she looked to her older brother for help. Jim went duck and deer hunting with their father, so she thought perhaps he'd understand what their agitated friend was rambling on about.

And the knowledgeable boy did.

"An alligator tag is a plastic strip with a locking end," he began. "Hunters in Louisiana must apply for tags each season, Honey. Each one is uniquely numbered so the authorities can track it. The quantity of tags the hunter is issued determines the number of alligators he or she can harvest. When an alligator is caught, it must be tagged immediately. The sportsman cuts a slit about six inches from the tip of the beast's tail and then runs one of his tags through it. If a hunter loses a tag or doesn't fill it, that translates to lost income. It also means the tag's owner may not be issued as many in the coming year."

"Oh my goodness," Honey slowly replied as she processed the information. "Then five hundred tags means Mr. LeBlanc has to catch five hundred alligators! That seems like quite a few. So I take it Hallie is going down to Louisiana to help her grandfather fill his tags, Trixie? But isn't alligator hunting dangerous?"

"Oh, it's very dangerous," the wide-eyed girl replied. "Alligators have powerful jaws that can bite right through bone, Honey! But Papa LeBlanc is in jeopardy of losing his business. So Uncle Harold, Aunt Renee, Hallie, and Cap flew down from Idaho to his rescue. But with Hallie's other brother Knut off at college, and what with the hunting season getting off to a late start due to the storm, Papa could still use more help. So Uncle Harold called Daddy last night, hoping he, the boys, and I might be able to pitch in."

"Wow!" Jim excitedly exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair. "That's the opportunity of a lifetime! Not many people get to go alligator hunting. And guided hunts aren't cheap. I'd think you'd be jumping up and down, Trix?"

"Oh, yeah, hip-hip-hooray," Trixie sarcastically grumbled as she plucked a stray dandelion from the grass and made shreds of its yellow petals. "While Hallie and the "menfolk" are off having the time of their lives, I'll be helping Aunt Renee cook, clean, and pick up after the mighty lizard slayers. Moms insists that I stay out of the swamp, and she wouldn't have even considered my going if Hallie hadn't specifically requested that I come. Currently, my conniving cousin's the one assigned to domestic duties. I'm to be her replacement," she added, expressing her resentment.

Honey now understood why Trixie wanted to put a curse on her cousin. It was no secret that her upset friend despised housework. Trixie was the kind of young lady who liked to be outside, looking for adventure. Being cooped up in some dusty old cabin making beds wasn't her idea of fun. And Hallie was well aware of that fact.

"I'm sorry, Trixie," she said sympathetically. "But look at the bright side. It sounds like you'll be out of school for a week or so?"

Trixie's response was a sigh and a nod, which earned her a nudge from Dan.

"Ah, cheer up," he said. "You'll love Louisiana. I've never been, but I hear the food is out of this world. Why I bet Mart's already drooling." Trixie's middle brother was known as the Bob-Whites' bottomless pit. The "growing boy" was always hungry.

"How's that supposed to put a smile on my face when I'm going to be the one slaving away in the kitchen, Mr. Mangan? But you're right as rain about Mart," she continued to grouch. "He's already made up this absolutely ridiculous menu for me. Crawfish Etouffee, Red Beans and Rice, and something called Turducken, whatever that is? Only before my dear brother can go anywhere, he's got to pass an online hunter's course and file for his license. Mart and Daddy are on the computer now, trying to knock it out.

Daddy wants to leave for Louisiana first thing in the morning. We'll be taking the family station wagon. But I guess Dad's got a bunch of things to review with Brian before we head out. You see, Brian has decided to stay home and help Moms with our little brother and the farm. I think he's worried an alligator might bite off one of his fingers and ruin his chances of becoming a world-famous surgeon or something. Anyway, Big Brother should be up here soon, and he can tell you himself. Mart might be a bit late, but he's not about to miss the picnic."

Jim stood up at gazed down at the Belden's white farmhouse. "So Brian's not going?" he echoed, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "I wonder if your Dad would consider taking me in his place, Trix. I've always wanted to try my hand at wrestling alligators. And who knows, the Wheeler company jet might be available with the holiday. It's got to be a two-day drive from here to Bayou Chevrette. If we flew, it would give us an extra day to help fill those tags."

Trixie had never thought about Jim wanting to go to Louisiana in her brother's place - or had Honey, for that matter. But what surprised the girls even more was when Dan jumped up, declaring his interest.

"Hey, slow down, rich boy," he said, looking his buddy in the eye. "Why should you be the one to go? Just because your old man's got a private jet? I've got my driver's license, you know. If Mr. B was to pick me, we could take turns driving, and if we drove all night, we'd still get there early. I hate to tell you, but if given the choice, the Beldens are apt to choose my calm, cool company over yours', Your Hotheadedness."

Jim scoffed and gave his pal a playful shove. "Yeah, right," he said. "I can see you now in your pointed-toe cowboy boots, trying to haul an eleven-foot gator into the boat with those skinny arms of yours, Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected. The only reason you want to go is to see Hallie," he added, taunting the other boy.

"Oh, and I suppose it's all about gator hunting for you, right, Mr. Muscles?" Dan chuckled. "Are you sure it doesn't have a little something to do with some Cajun Casanova possibly setting his sights on a certain curly-haired sleuth if you're not around?" The young man was referring to Trixie. She and Honey were aspiring detectives and had already solved a number of compelling cases.

Only Jim began howling with laughter. "You've got to be kidding?" he cried. "I'm more worried she's going to stumble into a nest of cottonmouths and need the likes of me to drag her out."

Trixie had had enough of the boys talking about her as if she wasn't there. "Is that right, Jim Frayne?!" she interrupted after mumbling something to Honey about needing a third voodoo doll. "So you find it hard to believe that another boy could actually take a liking to me?"

Jim stammered, having been caught off guard. "Well…no…" he said sheepishly. "But that's not the point, Trix."

"Then what is the point?" the irritated young lady cried, waving a finger in his face. "That you needn't be concerned about something like that because, in my eyes, no one compares to you? If that's it, let me tell you something, pal..."

This time it was Jim who did the interrupting. "That's not it either," he growled, his red-headed temper flaring. "It's that you, Miss Belden, have a real bad habit of getting yourself into tight situations. If I were you, I'd thank my lucky stars that you've got somebody foolish enough to keep coming to your rescue."

As the angered young man turned to walk away, Trixie nearly exploded. Grabbing the teen's freckled arm, she spun him around. "Gleeps, I wonder who was being foolish when they pulled you out of your Uncle's burning mansion, Jim?"

When Jim didn't bother to reply, Honey, drawing sides, folded her arms across her chest and said with a sniff, "I do seem to recall it was you, Trixie!"

Shaking his head, Dan huffed and told the fuming young man that he was wasting his time arguing with a couple of crazy girls. "Besides, I've got a better idea," he announced. "Why don't we ask Mr. B. to take us both to Louisiana, Jim? We can cook and clean as well as any girl, you know. That way, Trixie can stay home, and we can take turns helping Hallie's Mom with the stuff that needs doing around the camp."

Jim laughed and slapped his buddy on the back. "'Now you're talking!" he exclaimed. "Last one to Crabapple Farm is the first one to clean the toilets."

As two rats raced off down the hill, their B.W.G. badminton game all but forgotten, Trixie helplessly called out after them, "Hey, I never said I didn't want to go…." But it was useless. The boys were already too far off to hear her.

"Oh, Trixie, I'm so sorry," Honey again found herself apologizing. "But don't worry. I'm sure your father won't go for their crazy idea. And I tell you what. I'll help you make those voodoo dolls. Really I will. We can go up to my room right now and get started on them. Why I'll even stick a few pins in that rotten brother of mine's if you'd like!"

"You're the best friend a girl could have," Trixie said sadly. "It's too bad you're not going on the trip instead of Brian, Honey. You wouldn't mind giving me a hand picking up after everybody, now would you?"

As the two girls straightened the picnic blanket and set heavy rocks on each corner so it wouldn't blow away while they were gone, Honey assured her friend that she wouldn't mind at all. "It'd be loads of fun,' she insisted. "Especially having a new mystery to solve!"

"A new mystery?" Trixie gasped. "Why, I never mentioned anything about a mystery, Honey?"

The pretty girl gave her friend a push toward the path leading to Manor House. "Have we ever gone anywhere and not found a mystery waiting for us?" she giggled.

Trixie grinned and took her fellow gumshoe by the arm. "By Jove, your right!" she proclaimed. "So come on, Honey! The voodoo dolls can wait. Good-bye, boys! Hello Bayou Chevrette! We've got some convincing to do!"