Read Online 2 The Patchwork Puzzler by Marjory Sorrell Rockwell - Free Book Online

Maddy for the tenth time. Bootsie was always carping about anything that resembled exercise. She was not an outdoors gal at heart.
    “But the police boat has a motor.”
    “Your husband would call out the National Guard. And Henry and Nan would see us coming a mile away.”
    “Don’t be silly. Those two are long gone, the Pennington quilt with them. I’ll bet they had a car waiting for them at the Burpyville Bridge.”
    “Maybe, maybe not.”
    They paddled along, Bootsie slapping at an occasional horsefly, Maddy surveying the shoreline for signs of a boat landing. So far, the thick foliage looked untrampled.
    “There, what’s that?” pointed Bootsie.
    “A deer path.”
    “Oh.”
    The sun flickered through the lattice of the overhanging trees. An occasional fish broke the surface of the water. Once they saw a beaver or a muskrat in the weeds along the bank. But no sign of Henry and Nan.
    This stretch of river wasn’t near the highway, like where Edgar Ridenour had been fishing, so they didn’t encounter any anglers along the banks. The world was silent as they drifted along – merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream!
    They came to a stretch where trees blocked out the overhead sun. Even so, Maddy felt a bit overheated, perhaps the exertion of all the paddling. Her friend was leaning against the inflated rim of the rubber raft, paddle across her knees, taking in the passing scenery.
    “I could use a little help here,” grumbled Maddy.
    “Wait! I think I saw something flash over there in those bushes,” said Bootsie.
    Maddy squinted. “I don’t see anything.”
    “Go back, you’ll see.”
    But the current was too strong at this bend in the river to reverse their course.
    “Pull over to the bank. We’ll walk back.”
    “Now who’s crazy?”
    With a Herculean effort, the two adventuresses maneuvered the sagging raft to the riverbank and tied it to a dead sapling. Pushing through the brambles, they worked their way back up the shoreline.
    They came to a break in the trees. “There,” pointed the police chief’s wife. “I told you I saw something.”
    The aluminum surface of a flat-bottomed boat flashed in the bright afternoon sunlight, marking the spot among the reeds where it had been abandoned. A path led up an incline and into the woods. Muddy footprints offered proof of human passage.
    “This is where Henry Caruthers came ashore. He was alone.”
    “Well, aren’t you the Last of the Mohicans. Since when did you get an Indian Scout merit badge?”
    “C’mon, Bootsie. It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
    “Hey, leave my nose out of this!” She was fairy sensitive about her prominent beak.
    “I mean, look at these tracks. There’s only one set of footprints leading up this deer trail.”
    “Okay, I’ll grant you that Henry Caruthers passed this way. Now let’s go home. I’ve had enough of Mother Nature for one day.” She slapped at a horsefly to make her point.
    “No, we have to follow him,” insisted Maddy.
    “Dear, he’s long gone. It’s been two days since Lizzie’s husband saw Henry on the river.”
    “I know, but we might come across a clue as to where he and Nan went.”
    ≈≈≈
    About a half hour later they came to a tumbledown stone structure in a clearing. There was no sign of life, no answer to their calls of hello . Peeking through a dirty window, they could see peeling wallpaper and broken floorboards. The door was locked, but they broke the window with a rock and pried the sash up enough for Maddy to wiggle through. She toppled inside with a loud thump ! – followed by a painful “ Owww !”
    “See anything?” called Bootsie to her advance scout.
    “Nothing yet.” Then, after a pause, the voice said, “Wait a minute, I think I’ve found something here.”
    “A letter confessing their crimes?”
    “More like a map.”
    “A treasure map? Did they bury the quilt in a chest?”
    “No, silly. An Exxon road map showing Caruthers County.