Riddle at the Rodeo

By Claudia Cangilla McAdam

When someone steals the prize buckle of a junior bull-riding champion, middle-school student and amateur sleuth Kirsten Camarata sets her mind to solving the mystery. She takes part in a rodeo in order to get behind the scenes, and even though someone goes to extreme measures to prevent her from doing so, her detective skills pay off as she pieces together the clues to solve the mystery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Two Sons Press, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9780974899503

Claudia Cangilla McAdam

Claudia Cangilla McAdam is an award-winning author of works for children and young adults. Additionally, she is a screenwriter and public speaker and currently serves as the Curator of Children's Content for the on-line platform FORMED.org. Claudia and her husband live near their extended family in beautiful Colorado, where the goregous Rocky Mountains are visible just outside their windows. Visit her at www.ClaudiaMcAdam.com

Book preview

Dedication

For my mom’s sisters, my sisters, and my nieces—

there’s a bit of each of them in this book.

Chapter 1

Welcome to Redstone

So, this was how I was going to die. A jackhammer blasted away in my chest, beads of sweat dotted my forehead, and the muscles in my right arm vibrated like strummed guitar strings. No matter how tightly I clung to the bull’s rope, I knew the thing would buck me off. Prayer was automatic: Hail, Mary, full of grace... This close to death, I probably should have chosen the Act of Contrition.

My left arm whipped the air above my head like a helicopter propeller as I tried to keep my balance. It wasn’t helping. I wasn’t going to live long enough to try out for soccer in the fall or to finish middle school. I’d never learn to drive. I wasn’t even going to live long enough to have an ice cream sundae for dessert.

Spinning to my right, I spotted Courtney with her hands cupped around her mouth and shouting. Hang on, Kirsti! Like I’d choose to do anything else.

Emily’s voice reached me through the crowd. You can do it!

My teeth clacked together as my head snapped back. With one big buck, I sailed through the air. The silver crucifix I wore around my neck—my mother’s—flew into my open mouth and clanked against my front teeth as a backwards somersault landed me with a thud on my back. The breath whooshed out of my lungs with enough power to fill a hot air balloon.

Emily bent over me, her face so close to mine that her eyes blurred into one. 

Are you okay? Are you hurt? 

I spit out the crucifix and tried to answer, but no sound came out. I tried again. No luck. All I could think of was Petey, my goldfish. I had dropped him once while changing the water in his bowl. He flopped onto the kitchen floor, his circle mouth opening and closing, opening and closing. I was doing a pretty good imitation. I glanced at my chest to make sure Emily wasn’t kneeling on it.

Courtney hovered above me with her hands planted firmly on her hips. That was the most unladylike thing I've ever seen! She bent over and poked a manicured fingernail into my side. Get up!

Give her a break; she can't breathe, Emily said. 

She'll be all right. Just got the wind knocked out of her.

I shifted my eyes to see who had pronounced these words of wisdom. A boy about our age was watching the scene, the corners of his mouth twitching up. I hoped he was right. This not-breathing business was scaring the heck out of me. Why wouldn’t my lungs work?

Under his cowboy hat, a shock of sandy hair swung across the boy’s forehead, grazing hazel eyes, one of which I think winked at me. So cute! Too bad I wouldn’t live long enough to get to know him. I wondered briefly if I still had enough oxygen in my system to turn my face red with embarrassment.

Just be glad it was only a mechanical bull, and she landed on a padded surface, he said.

He reached down and slipped his fingers under my waistband. Courtney and Emily looked shocked at what they figured was an assault on my modesty. Frankly, I didn’t care, if what he was doing was gonna get my lungs working.

He pulled up on my belt, lifting my hips, arching my back, and raising my lungs off the floor. Finally! I could breathe! He grabbed my wrists and hauled me to my feet. He was a few inches taller than I was with broad shoulders and a scent of fresh linen and soap.

I drew in a huge gasp of air. Thanks...a lot. I bent over, my hands on my knees.

No problem. That was some mighty fine riding. He glanced from me to the mechanical bull and back again.

He should know, said another boy in a straw cowboy hat. Scott’s the best junior bull rider there is. But the next rodeo's all mine, Patterson. He lightly punched Scott's arm. "I'm winning the bull riding."

Scott snorted with something that sounded like a chuckle. Yeah, we'll just see about that.

Your name is Patterson? Like in Patterson Dairy? I asked as I straightened up.

He nodded. Oh, great. Where was a hole I could crawl into? I would have been better off not getting my breath back. His dad had hired my dad to come and consult with him about helping boost the dairy’s sales. My whole family had come with Dad on this business trip. It was our first day in Redstone, and I was making some impression.

I tried to pull myself together. I'm Kirsten Camarata. My father’s Luke Camarata. 

Oh, yeah, I heard my dad talking about him. He said his kids were coming to Redstone with him. He slipped his hands into his back pockets and cocked his head at me. "I thought he meant little kids."

He smiled one of those smiles that when a cartoon character does it, a star glints off one tooth. My face grew hot, and suddenly I became aware of the mess my hair had become. I yanked the elastic band from my ponytail, held it between my teeth, and tried to rake the haystack of coarse brown hair into something halfway decent.

Courtney elbowed me in the ribs and cleared her throat. I took the hint. These are my cousins, I mumbled until I plucked the elastic band from my mouth. Courtney Reynolds and Emily Dobson.

Hi, Scott said. And there was that smile again—one for Courtney, one for Emily. And this bozo's Ty Mansfield.

Ladies, Ty said. He tipped his hat, and Courtney giggled.

Hey, why don’t you guys come out to the ranch with your dad? Scott’s eyes settled on me. Before I could answer, Courtney melted into smiles and slid into what I call her ga-ga for guys routine. 

That'd be great, she said, tucking a long strand of blonde hair behind one ear. She looked like a movie star when she did it, but I resembled a gorilla grooming herself as I continued to wrestle with my ponytail. Courtney tilted her head, and I think she batted her eyes at Scott. Hard to tell, though, since her eyelids were as blue as her eyeballs. I couldn’t believe Aunt Lydia let her leave the house wearing that gunk.

Me, too!  I want to come, too! 

My little brother squeezed past me to plead at Scott with puppy dog eyes. I swear, he is the most annoying seven-year-old ever. That’s why I rarely call him by his name. To me, he’s not Brad, but Brat. He hates it. That’s why I do it.

No, I hissed at him, trying to shoo him away.

He hopped from one foot to another, his hands clasped together in front of him. Please? 

He won't get into trouble, Emily said. 

Scott settled the matter with a ruffle of Brad’s hair. Sure, squirt, you can come. See ya, he said, but he was looking at me, not Brad.

The mechanical bull I had ridden made its home in the corner of Rusty's Steakhouse where we’d come for dinner. Before winding our way back to our table, I motioned to the bull with my thumb. Who's next? I asked. Court? 

She wrinkled her nose. Are you kidding? I'd break a nail.

How about you, Em?

"No way. My hands were sweating just watching you ride that thing."

A smile yanked at my mouth. My cousins and I were as different from one another as you could get—in looks and in temperament. I’m always up for a challenge (okay, I’ll admit it—bull riding got the better of me, but, hey, I tried), and in general, I can beat either of my cousins in sports or games. 

Courtney could win an Olympic medal, though—in hairstyling or makeup application. It made sense, I guess. Her mom was once a professional makeup artist.

Aunt Lydia and Uncle Tim divorced the same year my mom died. My dad needed the help, and my aunt needed a home, so she and Court came to live with us. I’m surprised at how well my dad and Aunt Lydia get along, considering they’re brother and sister. Maybe someday Brat and I will get along, too. Maybe not. 

Emily's mom is my dad’s other sister. Her parents, my Aunt Kate and Uncle Len volunteer each summer at a mission in Bolivia, and Emily comes to live with us. She’s the third leg of our cousin triangle.

We’ve always been close, and it’s not just because we were born in the same year.  Or because we share a middle name—Patricia, after our Grandma Camarata. It’s because we’re always there for each