Alberta Alibi
Alberta
Alibi
Alberta
Alibi
Dayle Campbell Gaetz
O
RCA
B
OOK
P
UBLISHERS
Other books in this mystery series
by Dayle Campbell Gaetz
Mystery from History
Barkerville Gold
Copyright © 2005 Dayle Campbell Gaetz
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data
Gaetz, Dayle, 1947-
Alberta alibi / Dayle Campbell Gaetz.
ISBN 1-55143-404-0
I. Title.
PS8563.A25317A64 2005Â Â Â Â jC813'.54Â Â Â Â C2005-904764-X
First published in the United States, 2005
Library of Congress Control Number:
2005931361
Summary:
Sheila, Rusty and Katie race to save Sheila's father
in a fight with unscrupulous developers.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP), the Canada Council for the Arts, and the British Columbia Arts Council.
Cover design by Lynn O'Rourke
Cover illustration by Ljuba Levstek
Orca Book Publishers
PO Box 5626, Stn. B
Victoria, BC Canada
V8R 6S4
Orca Book Publishers
PO Box 468
Custer, WA USA
98240-0468
www.orcabook.com
Printed and bound in Canada
08 07 06 05 ⢠4 3 2 1
To Jupiter
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Travel Alberta and the helpful folk who work there for providing so much useful information and answering all of my questions. I wish to thank, as well, all the hardworking people involved with the Nature Conservancy of Canada. Their ongoing efforts ensure that key areas of Canada's wildlife habitat will be preserved for generations to come. Special thanks, as always, to my editor, Andrew Wooldridge, for his invaluable suggestions and advice.
Contents
A
lmost there, almost there, almost there
. The words bounced back and forth inside her skull, over and over, until she wanted to scream. Instead she turned the volume up another notch. Music surged through the earphones, crashed into her brain. But the words only got louder, keeping time to the music.
Almost there! Almost there! Almost there!
Sheila couldn't stand it another second. She had to get out of here. But how do you escape from the backseat of a pickup truck that's roaring down an Alberta highway towing a trailer? Katie beside her, Rusty next to Katie, Katie's grandma in the front, GJ driving. Too many people! How could she possibly think?
She pressed her hands against the sides of her head. She felt like yanking those stupid yellow earphones off and tossing them on the floor. But if she did, everyone would stare at her and want to know what was wrong. From the corner of her eye she saw Katie put down her mystery novel and turn toward her with that curious tilt to her head that meant Katie knew something was up.
Sheila refused to look at her. She knew Katie's forehead would be wrinkled and her dark brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. If Katie started asking questions, it would be impossible to shut her up. Sheila forced herself to calm down. She took a deep breath and made her face look relaxed so she wouldn't need to talk. She could not talk right now, not to anyone, not even her best friend. Her head was jammed too full and she needed time to think.
Sheila turned down the volume, right down to nothing, and snapped her fingers as if she was keeping time to the music instead of those two words,
Almost there.
She turned away from Katie and looked out the small side window.
They weren't in British Columbia anymore. Actually, they hadn't been for a couple of days. Sheila had to admit that the restored gold-rush town at Barkerville, where they had been the week before, was way less boring than she expected. She could almost understand why Rusty was so into history. And she didn't even mind that Katie got them all involved in another of her
cases.
As long as she kept busy, Sheila didn't need to think about where they were headed next.
After Barkerville they drove through the Yellowhead Pass, turned south at Jasper and stopped at the Athabasca Glacier. They stayed overnight at a campground high in the mountains and rode out onto the Columbia Icefield in one of those bus things with great monster tires. That was fun.
Then they drove the parkway that wound south through all those amazing mountains to Banff. On the way they saw two black bears, a moose, loads of bighorn sheep and tons of wapiti.
This afternoon, after lunch and shopping in Calgary, they turned south onto Highway 2. That's when it hit her. Wham! Right in the face. They really were in Alberta. The Rocky Mountains, a giant wall of jagged rock capped with snow, loomed above the low, forested foothills to her right. On her other side, the foothills flattened into grassland that rolled on forever under a sky so blue it brought tears to her eyes.
That's when she clamped her earphones on and cranked up her CD player. No one could talk to her, but she couldn't stop herself from looking out the window. Everything looked familiar and different at the same time. How could that be? She tried not to look when they passed High River and turned west again, heading straight for those high peaks, rock gray against that pure blue sky.
But not for long. It seemed like no time before they reached Highway 22â“The Cowboy Trail” some people called itâand GJ swung the truck and trailer onto it. After that, time slowed down. Near the little town of Longview, Sheila saw a road sign ahead. It pointed to the Bar U Ranch, a National Historic Site. Her stomach fluttered.
Almost there.
Sheila hadn't set foot in Alberta since she was ten, just over two years ago, and she had missed the ranch every single day. She missed Silver too. But more than anything, she missed her dad. And that was the scariest part because Sheila knew her dad didn't miss her anywhere near as much as she missed him. If he did, he would have come to see her once in a while, as he had promised.
“You'll be less than two hours from Calgary by plane,” he said just before she and Mom drove away from the ranch forever. “I'll see you every month.”
Right. He had flown out to Victoria exactly three times. And the last time she saw him was last year, before Christmas. He didn't even want to see her on Christmas Day!
That's why her stomach was doing jumping jacks all over the place. It was so nice of Katie and Rusty's grandparents to drive her to the ranch so she could visit for a few days. But her dad hadn't exactly leapt up and down with joy when she talked to him on the phone. All he said was “When did you say you'd be here?”
“Dad, I already told you twice. July 21.”
“Oh! Well, I guess you'll want your old room?”
You can't beat that for enthusiasm.
If Dad didn't want to be bothered with her, at least she'd be able to ride Silver. Maybe
he
would be happy to see her. The thought of her beautiful, golden horse brought a smile to Sheila's lips.
“What's funny?” Katie demanded.
Sheila turned back from the window. “Huh?”
“You were laughing. What's funny?” Katie spoke really loudly so Sheila would be able to hear over the nonexistent music.
“I'm not laughing, I'm smiling. I like this song.” She snapped her fingers a few times for Katie's sake, then turned up the volume. She smiled again, partly because she really did like this song and partly because she had Katie and Rusty so totally fooled.
They were convinced she listened to modern rock music. No one had guessed her terrible secret.
She was into country music. It was the only way Sheila knew of to feel close to her dad. Outside the window, everything started looking way too familiar, so she closed her eyes. She snapped her fingers, just in case someone was looking at her.
“Almost there!” GJ called out.
Oh no! The words had gone. Now they came rushing back. She opened her eyes. She wasn't ready. She didn't want to see him. Maybe they could just drive on by. Turn around and head for Saskatchewan. But there was the wooden sign, same as always, nailed to a fencepost at the end of their long, winding driveway. The Triple W Ranch. You'd think he would have crossed off the “Triple” by now and made it The Lone W Ranch. Her dad said the sign used to say “The Waltons,” but everyone laughed when they saw it because of some old TV show or something.
“Is this it?” GJ asked, slowing down. He glanced over his shoulder.
Sheila was tempted to shake her head. No. Keep going. Don't stop. Please! Instead she nodded at GJ and stared down at her hands. The music wailed in her ears. She hated it. She switched it off and stared out the window. Her throat hurt.
Almost there.
T
here it was, same as ever, on top of a small rise, surrounded by cottonwood trees. A big, sprawling, two-story house with white wood siding and a covered, wraparound porch. Wide windows overlooked ripening hayfields.
Sheila's heart pounded against her ribs. Her mouth went dry. What would her father say? What would he do? Would he run out the door and give her a hug? Would he say he was sorry about forgetting her birthday last month? Would he tell her he was busy and ask if she could come back some other time?
They pulled into the flat, dusty farmyard. GJ swung the wheel and pulled truck and trailer to a stop beside the barn.
For the next minute no one moved. Sheila held her breath and listened to her heart beat-beat-beating.
“Sheila?” Katie tapped on the plastic earphone, loud against her ear. “Sheila, turn off the CD, we're here!” Sheila bit her lip, took off the headphones. By then Gram had opened the passenger door and slid to the ground. She pulled open the narrow back door for Sheila. “Let's go find your dad!”
Hot dust filled her nostrils as she crossed the yard with Katie and Gram. Dust and manure and the familiar warm, dry smell of sun-baked fields. Two steps up to the wooden porch, five steps to the door. It still looked the same, this house she was born in. But different too, almost like the home of a stranger. It didn't seem quite as big as she remembered, and she hadn't noticed how badly the paint was worn from the wooden porch or how the boards creaked beneath her feet when she stepped on them. She reached the front door. Bright red. It was supposed to be green. She stopped and stared at it.
