Trixie Get Your Gun

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The next morning, Trixie and Di dressed quickly in jeans and sweaters. They ate a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and cinnamon toast out on the Lynch's terrace.

Trixie downed the last of her orange juice with a slurp. "That should help me get the flying scenery on its trim, assuming it doesn't get tangled in the battens or rigging," she said.

"You're certainly learning the lingo," Di said with a smile and then her face lit up. "Trixie, that gives me an idea of how we can have some fun with Mart."

Trixie groaned. "Fun and my brother do not belong in the same sentence," she said, but she listened with growing interest as Di described her idea. By the time the Lynch chauffeur had dropped the girls off for rehearsal, Trixie agreed that it could be a good way to put Mart in his place. She and Di entered the theater in high spirits, in contrast to most of the cast and crew, who were a bit grouchy about being out so early on a Saturday. Even Honey was not quite her usual cheerful self, yawning as she and Mrs. Travers set up shop in the left hand wings for another round of fittings.

The "tech" rehearsal was a grueling day. For the first time, the cast and crew went straight through the entire musical with all of the technical aspects in place. The actors didn't wear their costumes or actually say many lines or sing songs. Instead they went directly from one entrance, exit, or cue to the next, giving the crew the chance to practice the sequence of curtain raisings and lowerings, scene and lighting changes, and getting props to the right place.

It was like one long day of drills. When mistakes were made - which was not infrequent - the crew corrected the errors as quickly as possible and made notes in their scripts to remind themselves. Late morning Trixie and Ryan were to lower the curtain at the end of the first rendition of "There's No Business Like Show Business." However, the two jumped the gun, starting the curtain lowering before Nancy had actually called the cue. That left Di and Robert and a couple of other lead actors who were downstage, in front of the curtain instead of behind it when it was lowered.

"Cut!" Mrs. Catania cried. "Now you see what can happen? You bring the curtain down too soon and you have Annie and Frank stuck in front looking silly." Mrs. Catania approached the stage. "What's more important is that there are steel weights in the hem of that curtain to make sure it hangs straight. I think Nancy or Del has told you about this. If that curtain were to be lowered quickly onto their heads, it could knock the daylights out of them or even worse. So, let's be careful back there."

Trixie and Ryan nodded and made their notes. Trixie was returning to the wings when she noticed that Mrs. Travers had wandered away from the costume fitting area and had been listening to Mrs. Catania with interest.

"Oh boy," Trixie thought. "Mrs. Catania is broadcasting lethal information." But she had to push that thought aside and focus on the next cues.

By early afternoon they had made it to the next to the last scene of the musical. It featured Di/Annie in a big production number, I Got the Sun in the Morning and the Moon at Night. Mrs. Catania painstakingly put the cast and crew through their paces of entrances and lighting cues.

"Now, when she sings for the second time, 'and with the sun in the morning,' at that point, Di will climb that far staircase and Nancy will cue the spotlight," she said.

Di climbed the three-tread staircase to demonstrate, but just as she hit the top step her eyes widened in surprise and she started to lose her balance. From the wings Trixie could see that the wooden bracing supporting the tread was loose and the step was about to fall through.

"Catch her!" she cried.

Robert Wells, starring in the scene with Di, had also seen what was happening and rushed to her side. He caught Di around the waist and lifted her up just as the step gave way. The staircase collapsed completely with a bang and for a long moment no one made a sound. Then everyone rushed to Di's side with cries and exclamations.

"Are you all right?" Nancy Norland got there first.

Di looked a little shaken, but nodded her head. She put her weight gingerly on her ankle and winced. Del brought over a chair for Di to sit on and Nancy sent Ryan after ice for an ice pack. The security guards came from backstage and joined the crowd. They crowded everyone else out, asked Di again if she was all right, and looked around with serious expressions. Otherwise, they didn't seem ready to do anything.

Trixie couldn't keep quiet any longer. "I knew it! This is more vandalism!" she exclaimed. "There was someone in here the night before last night," she turned to the guards, speaking quickly. "I was in the dressing room and heard someone overhead. Then when I came up, they hit me over the head. They must have been messing with this staircase. That has to be it, the theater hasn't been open any other time."

There was a murmur among the students as Trixie told of being attacked.

The guards looked confused. "What makes you think someone did something on purpose to this staircase?" one asked her.

"Okay, all right," Mrs. Catania came up on stage then. "Del, look at the staircase and see what it will take to fix it. I don't know that the staircase was deliberately damaged, Trixie. It was probably never checked properly in the first place. These things do happen," she said.

"No, Mrs. Catania, I was standing on it the night before last," Trixie insisted. "You were working on the lighting cues for this song and asked me to stand there while you made up your mind about color and intensity. I stood there for two or three minutes shifting from one leg to the other and it was solid as a rock."

"I believe you're right," the drama coach said slowly.

Del was nodding also. "I remember that."

"Someone did this on purpose to endanger Di," Trixie said.

"To get at Di?" Nancy asked skeptically. "Anyone could have climbed that…" she stopped, stared at the staircase, and seemed to be thinking.

"Exactly," Trixie said, reading Nancy's mind. "No one else was likely to be climbing this staircase. It's not used for any entrances or exits, just for this one production number. Just Di."

Nancy nodded and now Mrs. Catania was staring hard at the staircase, lost in thought. The security guards joined Del by the staircase and watched as he inspected it.

"Some nails and brackets are loose," he announced.

"Someone did this on purpose to get at Di," she felt like a broken record, but Trixie felt the point mustn't be brushed aside.

"You were here that night. You made up a special excuse to come back in here alone, you said so yourself. It could have been you did this," Mrs. Travers said loudly, pointing her finger and staring straight at Trixie.

"I haven't done anything!" Trixie said hotly. "Di's my friend! You and your daughter are the ones dead set that Alison should be the star!" Out of the corner of her eye, Trixie could see Alison gasp and turn pale.

"You're just jealous!" Mrs. Travers huffed. "Your friend is jealous and you're jealous because that Jim pays attention to her, not you. You're out to get my Ali!"

Trixie was too stunned to reply.

"Okay, everybody calm down," Mrs. Catania's voice rose. "I will not have these kinds of accusations spreading turmoil in our rehearsal time," she glared from Trixie to Mrs. Travers. "We'll get to the bottom of this. The guards can interview those involved. In the mean time, Di, you put your foot up on the ice pack and watch for the rest of the afternoon. Alison will stand in for you for the last scene."

A look of undisguised triumph came over Mrs. Travers' face as Di was helped to the side and Alison took center stage. Subdued crewmembers pushed the staircase backstage where Del and his crew could work on it later. The cast and crew went about the rest of the rehearsal, hardly speaking except for giving or receiving direct commands.

Worse, Trixie felt, her heated exchange with Mrs. Travers had put the spotlight on her in a most uncomfortable way. Some people seemed to be glancing at her out of curiosity, concern, or amusement. Meanwhile, others completely avoided making eye contact with her. Trixie bit her lip and tried to maintain her composure.

When the rehearsal ended she hurried over to check on Di. Honey was there, along with Nancy and a few other cast members. Di was stretching her leg and wiggling her toes. "Better!" she pronounced.

"There doesn't seem to be any swelling so far, so it's probably just a mild sprain," Nancy agreed. "But I'd continue the ice pack this evening and stay off of it as much as possible tomorrow."

"Definitely," Di agreed.

Honey and Trixie helped Di to the theater entrance where the Lynch limo was waiting. "Now I've put my foot in it," Trixie said under her breath as the girls walked slowly up the theater aisle.

"And here I thought it was my foot, but it's going to be okay," Di laughed. Then she added quietly, "Do you really think the staircase was sabotaged, Trixie?"

"Absolutely. That staircase was fine the night before last - not a single wobble. And it was the same person who hit me on the head. The theater hasn't been open otherwise, except for rehearsals and no one could do that during rehearsal without other people noticing."

"But you didn't see who hit you that night," Honey said.

"No, but I doubt that we've got two completely different sets of vandals!" Trixie exclaimed.

As Trixie and Honey helped Di into her limo, Tom Delanoy drove up.

"You go ahead, I've got to stay and talk to the guards," Trixie said to Honey. "I think I can catch a ride home with Del," she paused. "Are you mad at me for blurting that out about Mrs. Travers and Alison?"

Honey hesitated. "Mrs. Travers was baiting you. You were mainly defending yourself, so I can't really blame you, but I am…I don't know, it doesn't help when charges fly back and forth and I'm worried about the wrong person getting accused."

"Like me?" Suddenly fed up, Trixie threw her arms up in the air. "Everyone is so concerned about poor Alison getting accused, but I'm getting accused and I for sure didn't do anything."

"I know that, Trixie!" Honey cried.

Trixie sighed. "Right. It's been a long day."

"What do you think will happen?"

Trixie shrugged her shoulders. "At this point, it's still just my word against hers," she said and walked back into the theater.

Trixie started in helping to clear the stage, wondering if she was expected to apologize for what she'd said to Mrs. Travers. When she saw an opportunity to talk to Nancy Norland alone, she approached her quietly. "Nancy, I'm sorry about…" Trixie paused. She wasn't sure what she was sorry about. "Well, I'm sorry if I've blundered into this and made the situation worse."

"I don't think you've made the situation worse," Nancy said firmly. "You're noticing things others haven't. What you said about the staircase is probably right. As to proving exactly who was involved with it, well…that's another story," she smiled wryly. "But I'll tell you this, I sure don't think it was you who sabotaged that staircase. I doubt anyone else does either," she said, closing her prompt book with a sharp snap. "Let's just get this stage cleared and we can all take a break for the weekend."

Relieved at Nancy's attitude, Trixie agreed and helped put away scenery until she was called over to talk to the guards. Their questioning was perfunctory. What had she seen or heard that night she was attacked, what had she seen or heard since then? Trixie answered as completely as she could, but she sensed that the guards had been hired in from the outside and didn't have much background on what had been happening backstage. She doubted her information would mean much to them and they didn't seem inclined to do much except make a report.

Afterwards, Trixie returned to her prop table, loaded the prop box, and took it back to the prop room. The theater was thinning out as cast and crewmembers started to head home. As she settled the box on the shelf she suddenly had the sensation that some one was behind her. Alarmed, she got up quickly and turned around. She let her breath when she saw it was Del.

"I'm sorry to startle you, Trixie. I've been wanting to talk to --" he started and then stopped as Alison Travers walked into the prop room, her face tense and worried.

Alison stopped in her tracks when she saw Trixie. The grief in the girl's eyes was plain to see and suddenly, despite her worry for Di, Trixie was desperately sorry for Alison's situation. Without quite realizing what she was saying, she started talking. "Look, Alison, I got carried away. I hadn't intended to blurt all that out in front of everybody," she said. "I'm really sorry -"

"Forget it!" Alison's voice was choking with emotion. From backstage Mrs. Travers was calling Alison, saying it was time to go home and she gathered her belongings as quickly as she could. "You had a chance with this, but you blew it!" She reached the door from the prop room to the theater and turned back around. "You blew it!" she repeated and ran from the room.

Trixie was astonished. She and Del stood stock still, looking at each other.

"What was that?" Trixie asked, when she was finally able to talk.

Del shook his head in confusion. Then he ducked his had and looked back up apologetically at Trixie. "I don't know exactly what's been going on, but I know a little bit more than I told you at first," he said, brushing his hair back nervously.

"Okay," Trixie found that she was holding her breath.

"The morning the costumes were destroyed I did see something. From fairly far down the hall I saw Mrs. Travers leaving the prop room. She stopped at the newsstand and picked up a bunch of copies of the newspaper, the Clarion, as she was walking outside. When we got nearer the prop room, I saw that all of the copies of the newspaper had been taken from the stand. That seemed a bit odd. I thought maybe she was going to distribute them around town, or something, as publicity."

Trixie felt a little let down. "We already knew that Mrs. Travers had been in the prop room that morning. I'm not sure why it matters that she took copies of the newspaper."

Del gulped. "That's not all," he said, pausing again. He continued, almost in a whisper. "Tony and Jeff did see that the costumes were torn up. We were all too scared to say anything! Since they'd taken those guns, we thought for sure it would be blamed on us."

Trixie gripped her blonde curls in frustration. "Del, you've known all along!" She exclaimed. "If Mrs. Travers just brought the costumes in early that morning and they were destroyed five or ten minutes later when you got there, then there's only one person who could have done this…Oh! I want to tear my hair out! Or, your hair out! You should have told somebody!" she jabbed at his arm.

Del hung his head. "I know, I know! But, we were afraid! Tony and Jeff were already in a lot of trouble for taking those guns and I was in trouble for letting them. And besides…" Del hesitated then went on. "I don't know what is going on with Alison, but I feel bad for her. I've seen her around at other times, Trixie. Crying. Once backstage by herself. And, once I came in early and she was in Mrs. Catania's office talking on the phone with someone, and she was crying."

Trixie stared at Mrs. Catania's office picturing Alison crying on the telephone. Something stirred at the corner of her awareness, but she couldn't quite see it clearly.

"You've got to say something, Del. The fact that the boys saw the torn costumes narrows down the time very conclusively. It was Alison, possibly egged into it by Mrs. Travers. You've got to tell Mrs. Catania or Mr. Reed, or both."

Del nodded. "I just hate to see this happen to Alison. I can't help but think that it's just…well, she's got such a nutcase for a mother!"

"You said a mouthful there," Trixie declared. "Look, I'm tired. Why don't you give me a ride home? Everybody's either gone or busy so I think you at this point you can wait until Monday to say something. Maybe - maybe we'll figure something else out between now and then," she shook her head in bewilderment. "Like why Alison says I blew it."

Chapter 14: Moms' Apple Pie

Though they puzzled over it most of the ride home, neither Trixie nor Del could figure out what Alison had been talking about. Trixie got out of the car at Crabapple Farm, called good-by to Del, and took a deep breath. It was cold, but not uncomfortably so. Clouds were gathering and there was a hint of moisture in the air, possibly some snow coming.

"I haven't had time outside in over a week," she thought. Hardly any riding time. "I feel like a mole, cooped up in that theater every day." Trixie looked at the sky speculatively. Possibly about another hour or so of daylight. The prospect of leaving her worries about Di, Alison, and the whole kit and caboodle behind on the trail was so inviting. "I think I'll drop off my books and run up to the Manor House and see if Susie or Starlight needs exercise or can stand some more," she thought.

But when she got inside, her mother had different ideas. "Have you had a chance to look at the grout in the downstairs bathroom, like we talked?" she asked. "Because I think Mart and your father would like to repair the grout and then paint in there, but we have to get the grout cleaned up first."

"Right," Trixie said, feeling a bit guilty. She hadn't given a moment's thought to the grout. "So much for riding," she thought, hurrying upstairs to change into her oldest and grungiest jeans and t-shirt.

She came back downstairs, grabbed cleanser, sponges, rags, and rubber gloves and went to work on the bathroom. Cleaning the grout was about the worst job Trixie could think of. It called for patience and attention to detail, two things Trixie was short of. But she went to work, spraying the cleanser in between tiles and rubbing with her gloved hand to clean off the stains.

As she worked she reflected on what Del had told her. "The mystery is basically solved," she thought. "It can only have been Alison, maybe incited by her mother. If Mr. Barlow is right, no one else was in or out of the prop room during that time period."

"So why don't I feel better?" she wondered, sponging some stray cleanser from the tiles. "And why do I still have the feeling that nobody is going to be glad that the mystery is solved?"

Honey, Jim, even Del, who had known all along - no one was going to be glad to see the arrow pointing so directly at Alison. "Jim may never forgive me," Trixie thought gloomily, brushing her hair back with her arm and starting to scrub again. "Or else, he'll think of me as the girl who put away that pretty, sweet Alison. Soft and pink as a nursery," she half-sang to herself.

She heard Bobby coming running through the hallway and dining room, followed closely by Mart. Apparently, he and Mart had watched the Annie Get Your Gun video several times and Bobby had many of the lyrics memorized. Now he was singing:

"A man's love is mighty,
he'll even buy a nightie
for a gal that he thinks is fun.
But they don't buy pajamas
For pistol-packin' mamas,
Oh, you can't get a man with a gun!"

Mrs. Belden came out of the kitchen as Bobby triumphantly finished his song. Her mouth gaped. "Mart, I don't know if we want Bobby to go around singing those lyrics!"

"I can't stop him. I've created a Frankenstein," Mart said. "A musical, midget Frankenstein!"

Trixie paused her work and stood on the threshold of the bathroom door.

Bpbby kept singing and turned to Trixie:

"You can't get a man with a gun! Pow! Pow! You're a pistol-packin' mama! You can't get a man!"

"Oh, Bobby, just cool it!" Trixie exclaimed. Throwing her sponges and gloves down in the bathtub, she pushed past a startled Mart, Moms, and Bobby and raced to her room.

Trixie slammed her bedroom door and flounced onto her bed. She stared blindly out the window as a few flakes drifted past. She felt like a fool, but the words to the song seemed to taunt her. "But I lose all my luster, when with a bronco buster, oh, you can't get a man with a gun."

There was a knock on the door. "Trixie?" Mart called.

"Yes?" she answered grumpily. "C'mon in."

Mart opened the door a crack. "Our maternal parent is requesting the honor of your presence downstairs in the kitchen," he said. After a pause, almost timidly he asked, "You okay?"

Trixie sighed and chuckled ruefully. "Fine, tell Moms I'll be right there." After Mart left, she stopped in the upstairs bathroom, splashed some water on her face and went downstairs. Mrs. Belden was measuring out flour and shortening for pie crusts. A delicious aroma of apples, cinnamon, and sugar came from a pot cooking on the stove.

"Smells good, Moms," Trixie said, trying to keep her voice upbeat. "Did you need me for something? I was going to go back to the grout."

"The grout can wait, Trixie. Why don't you help me with these pies?" Mrs. Belden said. She handed Trixie the large mixing bowl and a pastry blender. Trixie frowned slightly, but began cutting the shortening into the dry ingredients. Mrs. Belden stirred the pie filling quietly for a moment, then turned back to Trixie. "Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

Trixie stared hard at the pie dough, willing herself not to cry. "Oh, Moms, it's just that everything has turned into a big mess!"

"Messes can be cleaned up," Mrs. Belden said with a smile.

"Maybe," Trixie said. "I took on this mystery to solve for Di because all this stuff was happening and she was going to quit the musical and now I think I've solved it, but instead of it all working out, it's making everybody mad."

Mrs. Belden looked confused. Trixie backed up and went through the story in a more sequential, detailed order for her mother - except for leaving out the attack on her in the theater, which she decided would upset her mother.

"Trixie, if this boy, Del, and Mr. Barlow's testimony point to this girl as the guilty party, I don't see that that's your fault," Mrs. Belden said when Trixie had finished.

"I know but…" Trixie looked at the dough, embarrassed. "Everybody feels sorry for her. Everybody thinks she's so sweet. Nobody wants her to be guilty. Everybody likes her…Jim likes her."

"Jim Frayne?" Mrs. Belden asked innocently.

Trixie nodded. "Mrs. Travers made it out like I've got a crush on Jim and am jealous of Alison and that's why I'm accusing her," Trixie blushed.

"That's the silliest thing I've ever heard. You wouldn't stoop to that kind of thing," Mrs. Belden said angrily.

"I wouldn't! That's not why I'm accusing her. But, the thing is, Moms, oh, Moms," Trixie moaned. "It's so embarrassing, but it's true. I do have, I mean, I kinda have a crush, I mean, I do like Jim and I am jealous," Abashed, Trixie muttered out the last few words under her breath and then looked up at her mother.

"Well, at least it's not that brat, Ben Riker," Mrs. Belden said matter-of-factly.

Shocked, Trixie burst out laughing. "Moms! All last fall when I was pretending to have a crush on Ben, you never said you thought he was a brat!"

"And, if it had turned out that you really liked him, I never would have called him a brat. But since we now know that your crush was a phony as most of the joo-wels you wore that week, I can say what I really think!" Mrs. Belden pulled out some pie pans with a clatter.

"He is kind of a brat," Trixie said, still chuckling. Then the pain returned. "But Jim's not and Honey's not and I'm afraid I'm going to lose my friends or the Bob-Whites are going to come apart over this."

"Oh, Trixie, I really doubt that. All of you have been such good friends. There is always tension from time to time in relationships. But Honey and Jim and the others know you too well and think too much of you to drop your friendship. As well they should," Mrs. Belden said, warming to her subject. "I don't think I tell you often enough how proud I am to have you as a daughter," Trixie looked up doubtfully and Mrs. Belden continued. "You're so much yourself. You hold your own with the boys and you give as good as you get."

"I guess I hold my own all right, but it's kinda like Annie Oakley," Trixie said morosely. "You can't get a man with a gun."

Mrs. Belden laughed and patted Trixie's shoulder.

"I mean it, Moms. I'm never going to get the hang of this growing up business, especially the boy-girl part. I don't have the first idea how to flirt. I feel like a goon even thinking about trying something like that."

"I'm sorry, Trixie, I'm not laughing at you, it's just that everyone - practically - feels awkward in that department, especially at first. You're not much different, or, to the extent that you are different, you're different in ways that make me very proud," Mrs. Belden insisted. "You have your own opinions and thoughts and you take action for the things you believe in. Of course, you'll mature, but I'd hate to have you think that maturing means turning into a cover girl or some teen magazine's idea of a flirt. You can have a real relationship with a boy based on who you are, not based on how some people think you ought to behave."

Trixie put the dough on the pastry board in the middle of the table. As she rolled out the dough she considered what her mother had said. "Jeepers, I hope so," she said. "The worst part is that I'm afraid Jim thinks badly of me…that I'm jumping to conclusions or, worst of all that I'm jealous and that's why I'm doing this."

"Jim strikes me as too sensible a young man to be mistaken about this for very long," Mrs. Belden said. "Is there any reason you can't go to him and tell him, this is what I'm doing and why."

"I just hate to bring up all that crush-type stuff," Trixie said uncomfortably. "I don't think I could look him in the eye."

Mrs. Belden laughed again and nodded. "If he has any sense, he'll know who and what you are by the way you act not by the way other people talk about you," Mrs. Belden said quietly. "And, if it turns out he doesn't have more sense than that, then you should have the sense not to worry about his opinion. It's not worth it."

"You make it sound easy and simple," Trixie said.
"It may not be easy, but you can do it. All I'm saying as far as the boys go, is, work on keeping your heart to yourself for the next few years. Keep riding horses, enjoying your friends, and keeping up with your club activities. Your father and I are delighted that you have your club and you can have the companionship of such a fine young people, including Jim," Mrs. Belden said. "He's a wonderful boy, but Trixie, he's just a boy, barely a young man. And you're just a girl. I know that it seems like forever now, but you'll only be a teen-ager for a few years and," she shrugged her shoulders with a smile," You'll be an adult for many, many years, believe me. It's only natural that boys - some boy -- will play an increasing part in your life. But keep your heart to yourself for the next few years. You know that your father and I don't want you to date for at least another year. The only thing that you and Jim should be committed to for a long, long while are the ideals of your club - helping others."

Trixie had kept her eyes on the rolling pin and the pastry dough as her mother talked, but she had hung on every word. She looked up then. "More than anything, I do want Jim as my friend. And Honey," her voice started to waver.

Mrs. Belden put her arms around her. "They are your friends. This is just a situation that takes some time to get sorted out. You haven't done anything wrong. As far as I can tell, you've done a lot towards helping identify who's doing this mischief so they can put on the musical! You're a very special girl, Trixie, and, trust me, more than one young man is going to figure that out!" Mrs. Belden reached over and lightly pinched Trixie's nose, leaving a layer of flour on her face.

Trixie smiled and swatted her mother's hand away. "You're the best, Moms!"

"Now, let's get these pies in the oven so they'll be ready for dinner," Mrs. Belden said briskly.

Trixie pitched in to help her mother, carrying plates and silverware to the dining room table. As she set the table, Bobby came sidling in. He looked at Trixie warily.

"Whatcha doin, kiddo?" she asked.

"Nothin," Bobby said. He walked over to Trixie and handed her a framed picture. Trixie had seen it before. It was a picture of the "par-squirrel" that Ben Riker had made for Bobby when he'd been visiting the previous autumn. Once Bobby had "trapped" the animal Ben had created, Ben had taken a picture and framed it for Bobby - rather expensively -- as a trophy. "You can have this, Trixie, since I made you feel bad."

Trixie laughed and pulled Bobby towards her and gave him a big hug. "You didn't make me feel so bad. That didn't matter at all." She looked at the picture a minute. "But could I borrow this for right now and get you a new frame next week?"

"Sure, Trix."

After a good dinner, capped by apple pie fresh from the oven, Trixie went to her room with a much lighter heart than she would have expected earlier that day. Her Moms was right. Honey and Jim would still be her friends. She still felt more than a little twinge of jealousy about Jim, but she decided to follow her mother's advice and focus on the friendship she had with him.

"My Moms is the best!" she thought as she turned off the light and climbed into bed. "What would I do without her? I feel sorry for Alison that she doesn't have that kind of mother," at that thought she sat straight up in bed. She looked out her window where the moon shone on the dusting of snow that had fallen in the evening. "Alison doesn't have that kind of mother," she mulled over that thought a moment.

In her mind's eye Trixie saw the events of the past several days go past like a parade: the torn costumes, the scissors left on display in Mrs. Catania's office, the warning message in the book, and Del coming upon Alison crying in Mrs. Catania's office. "Oh, I get it," she thought. "Now I see what really happened."

Sunday morning Trixie got up early and tackled the bathroom grout with gusto. She worked all morning and, by noon, had gotten it all cleaned, to her mother's delight. She ate a quick lunch and told Brian he didn't need to take her turn at riding.

"I'll see you at the clubhouse for the meeting," Trixie told Brian and Mart. The BWG's had set a meeting for Sunday afternoon to discuss what to do next about the backstage investigation.

Before leaving, Trixie went to her bedroom and got the picture she'd taken of Patch and Jim. Carefully, she removed the "par-squirrel" photo and inserted her photo of Patch and Jim. Trixie inspected it. The frame was very nice and it fit the photo perfectly. "A nice gesture from a friend," she reminded herself. She put the framed photo in her jacket pocket. Then she ran a comb through her curls and, on impulse, tied a big blue headband that matched the blue sweater she was wearing, into her hair. She went to the medicine cabinet and got out a lipstick that she kept there, but rarely used. Taking a quick look out of the corner of her eye - Mart could be coming around the corner any minute, ready to mock her - she applied it carefully to her mouth. She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment.

"I guess that'll do," she said and bounded down the stairs. "I'll be back this evening," she called out as she left.

Trixie hurried up the path to the Manor House, exhilarated at the prospect of an afternoon on horseback. She rushed into the stables and was surprised to see Jim leading Jupiter, the Wheeler's big, black gelding, out of his stall. He looked surprised, too, but smiled. Trixie took a deep breath and gathered her determination about her.

"I'm riding so Brian doesn't have to take my turn," she explained. "I got my other chores done already," she went over to get a saddle for Susie.

"Great, I'll wait for you," Jim said.

Trixie entered Susie's stall and began saddling her. She chatted a bit with Jim about the light snow of the night before and the prospects for more snow in the evening. As she led Susie out, Trixie decided to bite the bullet. She looked up at Jim. "I suppose Honey has told you about what happened at the rehearsal yesterday," she began, pleasantly, but firmly.

Jim nodded.

"Afterwards I talked to Del and he had some more information that points toward Alison and I'll tell you about it, but I just want to say this one thing," Trixie fidgeted with the reins a bit, and then went on. "I haven't been purposely looking for evidence against Alison or anyone because of you or your - well - your friendship with her or -- or them. I would never do that."

"I know you wouldn't, Trixie," Jim smiled broadly and reached over and squeezed her elbow. "I never thought that for a minute. Mrs. Travers says some crazy things. I'm pretty sure that's why Alison is so upset so much of the time."

Trixie nodded.

"I've been meaning to say, I think I got a little hot under the collar at lunch the other day. I know you've gone all out to help Di and I know it means the world to her," Jim looked down at Trixie as if considering her carefully. "I really do think it's great how you just take things on, come hell or high water!"

They laughed briefly and then Jim continued, looking serious again. "I feel I haven't been setting a good Bob-White example in some of this. I haven't been there for you."

Trixie looked at him thoughtfully. "It just gets complicated because there's more than one person to be there for - for all of us. I think that's what Honey is feeling."

Jim nodded and seemed relieved that Trixie understood. They led the horses out into the morning sun. "Are you going to tell me about what Del said? I'll try to listen with an open mind, but Trixie, I guess we're still on different wavelengths on this. I don't see how Alison could have done all of these things."

"And you're exactly right!" Trixie cried exultantly. "And, so am I! There's no difference! I figured it out last night. I had completely forgotten about the scissors being left out on Mrs. Catania's desk," Trixie climbed up on Susie and in the process, pulled her headband loose. Impatiently she pulled it off, stuck it in her pocket, and tossed her blonde curls back.

Jim cocked his head and looked at her quizzically. "Scissors?"

"Come on! I'll tell you about it on the trail," Trixie said and galloped off.

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