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absolutely could not go back. What if that man was still there? That huge angry security guard with scalded pants? And then there was the waitress. “I want to see the blacksmith shop.”
    â€œYou can see that any time. We need to check out your Prospector Man before he leaves.” Katie set off across the street without looking back.
    â€œBut…” Sheila’s eyes darted from one cousin to the other, “we have to stick together,” she pleaded. “We promised.”
    â€œThen come with me,” Katie called over her shoulder. Almost halfway across the dusty road, she stopped to let a stagecoach rumble past.
    â€œPlease, Rusty!” Sheila pleaded.
    He folded his arms across his chest. “We’re supposed to go to the blacksmith shop,” he said stubbornly.
    â€œOkay, we’ll go there, I promise. Just come across the street with us first. We can’t let Katie go wandering off alone. You know what she’s like—she’ll probably think she’s on the trail of some weird mystery, and the next thing we know we’ll all be in trouble, just like before.”
    Rusty hesitated. He didn’t want to follow his cousin, but he hated to see Sheila so upset. And he knew she was right. There was no telling what trouble Katie might stir up if left to her own devices. She was already on the steps in front of the Wake-Up Jake...and they did promise GJ.
    â€œPlease, Rusty? You don’t have to come inside if you don’t want. Just walk across the street with me?”
    â€œOh, all right,” he grumbled.
    Outside the Wake-Up Jake, Rusty sank onto a bench, stared at the boardwalk in front of his sneakers and tried to imagine he was totally and completely invisible. Sheila hesitated in front of the open door, took a quick breath and stepped inside.
    Ten seconds later the white-bearded man stepped out. He paused, plopped his hat over his thick gray hair and turned away from Rusty toward the barbershop next door.
    Katie darted out and followed. Two steps behind her, Sheila glanced at Rusty, made a face, jerked her head toward Katie and took off after her friend. Rusty eased to his feet and trailed behind.
    He caught up with the girls at the barber pole. “Okay,” Sheila was saying, “we came with you. Now you have to go with us to the blacksmith shop.”
    â€œBut he’s in there.” Katie nodded toward the barbershop. She pressed her face against the window. “And he’s looking at the Hair Invigorator!”
    â€œSo what? He’s a tourist. Looking at stuff is what tourists do. Katie, he’s just a man dressed as a prospector which, believe it or not, is not a crime.”
    â€œC’mon, Katie,” Rusty said. “Gram and GJ will be back soon and we’re supposed to be over at the blacksmith shop.”
    Katie’s dark eyes narrowed. She squinted from Sheila to Rusty to the open shop door, but when Sheila and Rusty started down the stairs from the boardwalk, she followed. “He’s up to something, I just know it,” she whispered.
    â€œLike what?” Sheila asked.
    â€œI don’t know, but I have this feeling .”
    â€œRight. Katie Reid, Private Investigator—with Feelings.”
    Katie didn’t seem to hear. “Something weird is happening and it has to do with those dusty bottles of Hair Invigorator.”
    â€œYeah,” Rusty agreed, “Frizzy Hair sure freaked out about them.”
    â€œHey!” Katie said. “What if your ghost put them there last night?”
    Sheila rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe this. It’s two stupid bottles of Hair Invigorator, guys, simple as that.”
    â€œAnd a bootprint,” Rusty reminded her.
    â€œExactly,” Katie said. “So tonight we keep watch until midnight.”
    Rusty could not believe how uncomfortable the stagecoach ride was. Even on this relatively smooth dirt road, every bump sent a shudder