"This rain will slow us down," Sheriff Colt Tanner stated as he and the rest of the rescue party gathered, "We’ll be heading up Saddleback Ridge. That will take us to Dead Creek Valley."

 

"Isn’t that where that Indian woman lives?" asked Deputy Hank Andrews, a stout cowboy with graying hair.

 

"Yes, Mrs. White lives out that way. She lives in that old hunting cabin that Rusty Booker had built," the sheriff replied, "From Frank’s description of the area where they saw the S.O.S signal, it could have come from the dry creek bed that runs just north of her place. Maybe the survivors headed to her cabin."

 

"How are we getting up the mountain?" asked Frank Hardy, anxious to get going. The sheriff looked at the dark haired, 18 year-old carefully.

 

"The best way is by mule," Sheriff Tanner answered, "But it’s also the slowest way. If the survivors are injured, the mule ride would be too difficult anyway."

 

"Sheriff, I got the quads all ready to go," a tall, young man stated, walking in the door of the Ranger station. The sheriff smiled at the youthful exuberance of Ranger Randy Packer.

 

"That answer your question, Mr. Hardy?" the sheriff said with a smile.

 

"Yes, Sir," Frank replied, grinning back at the sheriff.

 

Frank and Jack Wayne rode together on one quad. Sheriff Tanner and Deputy Andrews each rode singly. Two other quads carried rangers, riding two men each. Sheriff Tanner led the way, followed by a pair of rangers, then Frank and Jack, then the other rangers with Andrews bringing up the rear.

 

The trail was slick with mud and progress was slow. Sheriff Tanner had a lot on his mind. If Maddie Whitefeather, also known in town as Mrs. White, was helping the survivors, she had to know her secret was about to be discovered. ‘Maddie, I sure hope you’re taking precautions,’ the man thought to himself.

 

Sheriff Tanner signaled for the procession to stop. He pulled out sandwiches and fruit for each man from his backpack. They all had their own canteens of water. They dismounted their quads and ate a quick lunch. The mood was somber as they all realized the temperature was quickly dropping and the rain was not letting up.

 

"Let’s move out, men," Sheriff Tanner called, mounting his olive green quad.

 

* * *

 

"We owe them, Dad! We have to help!" Joe Hardy’s voice said imploringly as he saw the hesitation in his father’s eyes.

 

"Joe? How are you feeling, Son?" Mr. Hardy asked, ignoring Joe’s comments. Joe was trying to sit up, but was struggling; trying to keep himself covered and not hurt his arm. Maddie moved to his side and helped the boy into a sitting position. She then moved to the side of the bed to check his leg. Fenton moved to sit closer to Joe on the bed, watching Maddie work.

 

"My shoulder and arm are still hurting every time I move, but my leg feels a whole lot better," Joe answered his father, "We are going to help Maddie and Carl, right Dad?" Fenton looked closely at his 17 year-old son. ‘Laura was right,’ he thought, ‘I really don’t know Joe very well. I’m amazed at what he has done while I was out-of-it and now he wants to help others while he is still in bad shape himself. I believe my son is putting me to shame in the area of compassion.’

 

"As I told Maddie, I think the case against Carl stinks," Fenton replied, keeping his eyes focused on Joe’s, "But it’s been five years. Any evidence not already found is long gone..."

 

"But Dad," Joe interrupted, "It seems like the evidence that was used against Carl was pretty flimsy. If Carl hadn’t been forced into a confession, there probably wouldn’t be enough evidence to convict him." Joe’s blue eyes were bright with determination and persistence. Fenton shook his head slightly, and then smiled.

 

"Let me give this whole situation some more thought, okay?" Fenton asked, looking from Joe to Maddie.

 

"That’s fair," Joe said frowning, "but we don’t have a lot of time."

 

Carl came out of the bedroom and smiled brightly when he saw Mr. Hardy and Joe both sitting up in the bed. He quickly signed to his mother that he was glad they were feeling better. She told the Hardy’s what Carl had said.

 

Mr. Hardy looked closely at the tall, young man. He decided to watch Carl closely for any signs of anger or aggression.

 

Carl was busy signing something to his mother. Maddie turned and looked at Joe, her cheeks blushing slightly.

 

"Carl has taken a real liking to you, Joe," she said, "I guess he thinks of you as a new playmate. He wants to show you his car collection. I get him a few new ‘Matchbox’ cars each time I go into town." Joe smiled. He had a shoebox full of ‘Matchbox’ cars under his bed. Every once in a while, he would still dig them out and ‘drive’ them around on the bedspread.

 

Joe carefully used his right hand and began to sign to Carl, "I would like to see your cars." Fenton Hardy stared at his son.

 

"Where did you learn ‘sign language’?" Mr. Hardy asked, watching Carl run to the bedroom.

 

"At camp last summer," Joe responded with a smile, "I don’t know much, but since we had deaf kids at the camp with us, all the counselors were given some basic lessons." Again, Mr. Hardy was impressed with the young man that sat beside him.

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.