Four strong arms caught her before her feet touched the floor of the balcony.
THE SECRET OF CASA GRANDE
HELEN RANDOLPH
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY Akron, Ohio New York
Mexican Mystery Series by Helen Randolph
The Secret of Casa Grande The Mystery of Carlitos Crossed Trails in Mexico
Copyright, MCMXXXVI The Saalfield Publishing Company Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I THE MYSTERIOUS WINDOW
Aroused by a slight noise in the room, Jo Ann sleepily tossed back the turbulent black curls from her forehead and slowly opened first one eye, then the other. She lay staring half dazedly as the solid doorlike shutters swung back, letting the rays of the morning sun filter into the room through the iron bars of the window. Where was she? Why the iron bars?
Slowly her gaze traveled over the room, taking in the high, heavily beamed ceiling, the bare plastered walls, and finally resting on Peggy sleeping peacefully beside her. Everything floated again before her mind’s eye: their long trip to Mexico, their midnight arrival at this great old stone house, and their warm welcome by Peggy’s friend, Florence Blackwell, whom she had never seen before.
The next moment the Indian woman, who had wakened her by opening the heavy shutters, noiselessly crossed the room and began arranging dishes on a small table beside the bed.
“Buenos dias, señorita [Good morning, miss],” she said softly in Spanish as she noticed that one of the girls was awake.
“Ah—buenos dias,” stammered Jo Ann.
Again the woman spoke to her, but Jo Ann shook her head. After the woman had repeated her words very slowly, she was able to understand a few phrases.
Disturbed by their voices, Peggy suddenly sat up in bed, opening wide her dark-fringed hazel eyes. She, too, was startled for a moment by the unfamiliar surroundings; then, noticing the servant and the expression on Jo Ann’s face, she burst out laughing. “What’s the matter, Jo?” she asked teasingly a moment later. “Can’t you understand what she’s saying?”
“I think she’s trying to tell me something about Florence, but I’m not sure. I wonder where she is.”
Almost simultaneously there burst into the room a small trim girl with smooth fair hair and gentian-blue eyes. “Good morning, sleepy-heads,” she laughed, dropping down on the foot of the bed and fanning herself with a large sun hat. “Girls, this is Juana. Did she deliver my message?”
“She tried to,” Jo Ann replied, “but I’m afraid she wasn’t very successful.”
Turning to the servant, Florence spoke rapidly in Spanish.
Juana grinned broadly, bowed to the girls, and jabbered something they could not understand.
“She’s trying to tell you how happy she is that you have come to stay with her Florencita,” explained Florence.
“Tell her that we’re delighted to be here,” put in Peggy promptly.
“How I envy you—being able to speak Spanish that way, Florence,” Jo Ann sighed. “I’d give anything to do half as well.”
Florence smiled. “Oh, you’ll get on to it in no time.” As she had lived more than half of her sixteen years in Mexico, Spanish was perfectly natural to her. It seemed so simple that sometimes she found it easier to express herself in Spanish than in English.
“Though I’ve studied it two years, I have my doubts about ever being able to speak it fluently,” said Jo Ann slowly. Noticing Florence’s flushed face she added, “Where’ve you been? What time is it?”
“Almost ten o’clock. I’ve just been to market.”
“To market? Why didn’t you call us?”
“Well, I knew you girls would be tired and sleepy after your trip, so I didn’t disturb you. I go to market early every morning. I like to do the buying myself.”
“Promise you’ll call me next time. I didn’t come down here to lie in bed and sleep all the time. There’s too much to do and see.”