This Little Light of Mine

By Janice Alonso

Spring is on the horizon as Winkie eagerly anticipates the purchase of a tablet with the hard-earned money she has saved. She is also thrilled about the new next-door neighbor, Robert Thatcher, moving in. All her plans are soon thwarted when she has to use her money to buy obedience lessons for her exuberant Labrador Laurel instead. However, when Mr. Thatcher asks Winkie and her friend Lynn Ann to investigate the disappearance of his great-grandfather, who disappeared on Halloween night 1883, her spirits soar.

Book Three is the sequel to Home Is Where the Heart Is and solves the mystery of whatever happened to Robert Thatcher, who disappeared on Halloween night 1883. Through teaching Laurel to be a well-mannered dog and her investigation with Lynn Ann to solve the mystery of Robert Thatcher’s disappearance, God teaches Winkie the meaning of sacrifice, patience, and our human nature to invent stories about things we don’t understand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janice Alonso
• Release date: Mar 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005979164

Janice Alonso

Janice Alonso's work appears regularly in Christian, mystery, and children's publications.

Book preview

This Little Light of Mine

Adventures at Bell Buckle Inn

Book 3

by

Janice Alonso

Copyright © 2021 Janice Alonso

All rights reserved.

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Table of Contents

Welcome to Bell Buckle!

Saturday School

Why Would Robert Thatcher Want to Disappear?

The Pounding

Practice Makes Perfect

Another Case

Let’s Get Started

A Curious Thought

Clues at the Courthouse

People to See

One Busy Week

Comparing Notes

Lesson Two

Mr. Wiley’s House

A Different Approach

Odds and Ends

A New Direction

A Visit to the Post Office

The Smithy Shop

Time to Focus

The Golden Clue

All the Pieces Fit

This Little Light of Mine

Welcome to Bell Buckle!

The sun scaled the morning sky, its rays resting on Winkie’s face. Her eyes popped open and she flung back the quilt. Leaving the cozy warmth of her coverings, she sprang from the bed and her feet slapped against the cold, wooden floor.

Jarred from her deep slumber, Laurel, her ten-month-old Labrador Retriever, sat upright like a soldier ready for battle. She arched her back, lifted her chin, and howled. Then she sprinted to Winkie’s side. The hair on the back of her neck bristled, her eyes blazed, and a throaty growl rumbled in warning.

Leaning over and stroking Laurel’s plump side, Winkie reassured, It’s okay, girl. I didn’t mean to startle you. She plopped down beside her and cradled the puppy’s boxy head in her arms. I’m just excited . . . today is extra special, she said as she wiggled her feet into her fuzzy bedroom slippers.

Winkie’s mind whirled. Two things, two wonderful things were happening today. First, she was going to take the money she’d saved and buy an e-reader. She had put away money since last summer – money from the moving sale, money from caring for the Lambs’ puppies, and money from winning the scavenger hunt last fall . . . plus her weekly allowance and money that she’d received for Christmas. It had taken many months of being frugal. She’d stopped buying books and started using the library. Which turned out to be a good thing: she discovered she’d be able to download books directly from the library to her e-reader without leaving her house when she finally got her tablet. Yes, today was an extra special day: today all her sacrificing would pay off!

There was a second reason for Winkie bursting in anticipation. Robert Thatcher was moving in next door to Bell Buckle Inn. He had blond hair and the most beautiful eyes Winkie had ever seen. They were blue-violet in color and sparkled with a happiness that rubbed off on everyone he met. His long dark eyelashes curled upward. Aunt Susan said that Winkie had a crush on Mr. Thatcher. Well, maybe she did. Every time she saw him, her face reddened, and she couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound foolish.

Mr. Thatcher had purchased his great-grandparents’ house, a house that had been vacant for over twenty years. With assistance from the Bell Buckle Historical Society, he was now making plans to restore it as well as write the history of the town of Bell Buckle. When not traveling and writing for magazines, he would be working with Winkie’s dad, who was a handyman. Together they would renovate the old Thatcher home.

Mr. Thatcher was supposed to have moved into the house in December. A storm had so damaged the place last fall that he delayed the move for safety reasons, waiting until repairmen patched the roof and replaced the broken windows.

Winkie kissed the top of Laurel’s head, burying her nose in the furry, doggy sweetness. She stood. C’mon, Laurel. She slapped her hand against her thigh. Let’s go!

As they got to the doorway, Winkie looked at the picture of the field of periwinkles her mom had painted before the car accident. She cast her eyes heavenward and prayed aloud, I don’t understand why Mama had to die, but thank you, God, that I have so many things to remember her by.

Then the two raced down the stairs from their bedroom in the attic, past the two floors where the inn housed its guests, and landed in the foyer on the main floor. Winkie could already smell cinnamon-scented yeast rolls mixed with the aroma of coffee brewing in the pot. Citrusy smells of freshly squeezed orange juice and the maple smokiness from frying bacon made Winkie’s stomach grumble with mouthwatering anticipation.

Morning, Winkie, greeted Mr. Hardy. After breakfast, we’ll go get your tablet. He smiled. I know how hard you’ve worked and diligent you’ve been about saving your money. I’m proud of you showing so much responsibility and discipline.

Winkie had worked hard, very hard to save the money. She’d given up treats like buying cookies from Myna’s bakery on her way home from school. There had also been those cute, pink star earrings and that funny-looking emoji stuffed animal. She’d given up using her money on things that brought joy for only a short while and chosen to spend her savings on something that was more expensive but would bring her hours of fun.

I’ll be back in a jiffy to eat breakfast, she said.

Winkie snapped the leash on to the new bright red collar Laurel had gotten for Valentine’s Day. Holding on to the handrail with her left hand and an exuberant Laurel’s leash with her right, she eased down the front porch steps. Even with the salt her dad had spread across the brick way leading to the main sidewalk, icy patches threatened a nasty tumble.

Laurel jerked her way toward a nearby hedge of bushes; Winkie’s boots skid, causing her feet to sail out behind her and the leash to fly from her grasp. She rose onto her hands and knees. Winkie lifted her head and spit snow from her mouth. Across the yard, Laurel had found a spot to do her business.

Carefully, Winkie placed one boot on the slick walkway and then she came up higher and slowly brought the other boot beside the first one, brushing off her pants and mittens. Wind whipped around her, and a strand of long blond hair blew free, slapping her cheeks.

Bad girl, Laurel! she scolded, her words lost in the sound of the wind.

Winkie collected herself, walked over to Laurel, her boots crunching through the snow. She leaned over and picked up the leash, clamping down for a tighter grip and wrapping it several times around her wrist.

There, said Winkie, giving the leash a couple of tugs. That should keep you from running away.

Winkie’s ears perked at the sound of an approaching engine. When she looked up, Mr. Thatcher’s blue station wagon was rolling into the driveway. He got out, straightened, and stretched his arms above his head. Then he turned and spotted Winkie. Waving two red, gloved-covered hands, he smiled and yelled out, Hey, Winkie! Smoke floated from his mouth as his hot breath met the frigid air.

Just as Winkie raised her hand to wave back, Laurel leaped into the air, barked, and bolted toward their new neighbor.

Who-o-o-o-a! wailed Winkie as she once more landed face down in the snow. Fortunately, this time she held tight to the leash with both hands. Unfortunately, she didn’t stay there for long.

Like a rocket, Laurel tore down the middle of Blueberry Lane in Mr. Thatcher’s direction. Winkie strengthened her hold, gliding behind the powerful Lab and feeling like she was on a sleigh ride. Laurel dragged her beside parked, snow-covered cars, over speed bumps, and past the Lambs’ house. Suddenly, Laurel stopped to catch her breath, her beefy sides pumping rapidly in and out. Once more Winkie tried standing, but just as she got her balance, Laurel spun around and zoomed off into Mr. Thatcher’s yard.

As they soared closer to him, Laurel rose to her back paws and slammed her front ones down on Mr. Thatcher’s shoulders. His feet flew out from under him, and he, too, landed in the snow with a loud thud. It was as if time moved into slow motion and a sharp voice broke the frozen silence.

Are you okay, Robert? shouted Mr. Hardy running down the front porch steps. Aunt Susan ran next to her brother, and they did not look pleased.

Winkie’s eyes dropped to Mr. Thatcher’s left foot and she immediately felt sick to her stomach. It was lying at an odd angle . . . a very odd angle. Her gaze returned to Mr. Thatcher’s face and she managed a weak smile.

Unable to think of anything better to say, she croaked, Welcome to Bell Buckle, Mr. Thatcher.

Saturday School

A couple of hours later, Winkie, her dad, and her aunt gathered at the kitchen table for a reheated breakfast.

Well, that was one grand way to welcome a new neighbor to Bell Buckle! Aunt Susan pursed her lips and clanked down a plate and glass in front of Winkie. Then she settled in across from her niece. When I say our blessing, I’ll be sure to thank God that Mr. Thatcher only has a sprained ankle. She shook her head from side