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so much about mysteries. You see, my brother and I are kind of detectives.” I went on to give him the brief history of all things Hardy—from our retired detective father to the real reason why Chief Olaf volunteered us for the cattle drive.
    Wally Welch gave a hearty belly laugh, and the whole wagon shook. “You two must have been a real bur under his saddle for him to hold a grudge that long.”
    “If that means what I think it means, sir, then yes,” I said. “We’re not on the best of terms with the chief.”
    “Well, you seem okay in my book,” said Wally. “And if you boys can put your heads together and find out who’s behind this mess, I’d be much obliged.”
    “I’ll see what we can do,” I said with a smile of my own.
    Wait until I tell Frank, I thought. A cowboy vacation and a mystery!

5
ROUND ’EM UP
FRANK
    I COULD FEEL IT IN the air. No, I could smell it. At the other end of the pasture, my brother was already trying to solve the mystery of the sabotaged cinch straps. We’re not twins, and we don’t have any kind of brotherly psychic link, but I could just tell.
    It was a no-brainer, really. Someone had cut the straps, but no one had had time to question it because the drive had to go on. But if I knew Joe Hardy, even injured, he’d already begun asking questions and creating a suspect list. I hated to admit it, but I was thinking the same thing.
    Of course, I would’ve been putting more thought into it if I wasn’t galloping after a wayward calf. The brown-and-white animal bawled for his mother as he ran into a grove of trees.
    “Wait here,” said Lucky. “I’ll go after him. And when he comes out, try to steer him toward the rest of the herd.”
    “You got it,” I said. I rode my horse into a gap leading to another open field and brought him to a stop. Harvey pawed at the ground with one hoof, anxious to continue the chase. “Whoa, boy,” I told him.
    Lucky rode into the trees after the calf. I heard twigs snap and the sounds of hooves on dry leaves. Then, a few moments later, the little calf bolted out of the tree line and ran straight for me. If he got past me and into the open clearing behind me, we’d be chasing him all day.
    I took off my hat and waved it over my head. “Hee-yah!” I shouted, trying to sound like the cowboys I’d seen in movies. The calf didn’t seem to care; he just kept coming, veering off to one side to get around me.
    I was about to kick Harvey into action. Oddly enough, I didn’t have to. The horse turned on his own, blocking the calf’s escape. This just caused the calf to slide to a stop and break around the other side. Harvey wasn’t having it. The horse sidestepped and blocked his path there as well. Harvey moved so quickly that I had to grab the saddle horn to keep from falling off. After one more thwarted attempt, the calf finally turned and ran in the opposite direction—luckily, where the rest of the herd was grazing.
    “Good job,” said Lucky as he rode out of the tree line. He ducked under a branch as he moved closer.
    “I wish I could take credit for it,” I told him. I patted my horse on the shoulder. “But this one was all Harvey.”
    Lucky smiled. “I guess I should’ve warned you. Harvey was a cutting horse in his prime.”
    “A cutting horse?” I asked.
    “That’s a horse that’s been trained to cut cows away from the rest of the herd,” Lucky explained. “The good ones can turn on a dime, blocking a cow as it tries to get past. A good cutting horse can match a cow’s movements, step for step.”
    I patted Harvey again. “So it came back to you just like riding a bike, huh, boy?”
    Lucky kicked his horse. “Come on. Let’s follow this one back to the herd and see if Sarah needs help.”
    We rode alongside each other while the calf walked ahead of us. Lucky explained more about cutting horses and mentioned that Harvey had won a few awards in his day.
    “And all with a name like Harvey,” I said.
    Lucky