The children pedaled hard up the steep hill that overlooked Pleasant Valley Park. Suddenly, they came to a screeching halt. They barely recognized their favorite park in the large valley below. Gone were the baseball and soccer fields, the playgrounds and basketball courts. In their place, as far as the eye could see, was a city of white tepees. Excited, the children coasted down the hill to the park to join the fun. As they locked their bikes onto the bike stand, Benny carefully removed the mask from Jessie’s bike basket.
It was hard to know where to look first. Children of all ages played a noisy game of tag, running in and out of tepees and all around the park. Long craft tables covered the toddler playground. At each one, people sewed moccasins or wove bright beads into bracelets and headbands. Small children glued feathers and beads onto leather strips that they tied around their arms and waists.
A group of people sat on the ground around a very old woman, watching as she carved beautiful designs into a black clay pot. And, oh, the delicious smells in the air! Even though their bellies were full of ice cream, the children knew they must sample some powwow foods before they left.
“This way,” said Henry, walking along a row of open tents with banners reading: Food, Crafts, Storytelling.
A young woman at the information tent directed people this way and that. Violet studied the bead design on her dress so she could copy it. Sewing the beads would take many hours but, as Grandfather said, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” When it was their turn to speak to the woman, the children asked where they could find Officer Tom Morgan.
“Let’s see,” the woman checked a list of names. “Ah, yes, Tom’s helping build the bonfire on the west end of the park.” She pointed them toward an area set far away from the tents. The children headed over.
As they neared, they saw people piling logs, branches, and twigs in the shape of a square. The square was already as tall as Benny, and it looked as if it would be much taller before all the branches were used up.
They found Officer Morgan working with a group of teenagers. “Welcome,” he said. “I’d like to show that mask of yours to one of the tribes here.” He turned to the teenagers. “Keep building,” he told them. “I’ll be back to help in a little while.”
He led the Aldens toward the largest tepee in the park. “You are about to meet some very important tribe members,” he said. “They have come from all over the United States for this powwow. I told them about the masks you found.”
Inside the tent, a group of people sat in a circle. Some wore jeans and tee shirts, and others were dressed in clothing decorated with beads and feathers. Officer Morgan introduced the children. He turned to Benny. “Would you show them your mask?”
Benny took the mask out of its box and walked into the center of the circle. A man leaned forward as Benny lifted up the two-horned mask.
“Ahhhh,” he said, taking it from him, passing it around the circle. Each held it and ran his hands along the old wood, admiring the talent of the artist who made it. When it had gone all the way around the circle, the last man spoke.
“This is a Hopi cow kachina mask. This spirit prays for rain and food for the Hopi people,” he said. “The Hopi have not arrived yet—if you will leave the mask, we will show it to them.”
“No!” yelled Benny, grabbing the mask and clutching it to him. “I found it! It’s mine!”
The man’s voice was gentle. “That is true. You did find it. And you could take it home. But this mask is very old. It may have been stolen from the Hopi tribe.” Benny clutched it tighter. The man looked at him with kind eyes. “It is a great honor—a great, great honor—to return a stolen thing to its true home.”
Benny hugged his mask. He knew how sad he felt when the mask had been stolen from their garage. He also knew how happy he felt today when they found the missing Crispy Crackers can. He looked at the chiefs who sat quietly, watching him and waiting. No one yelled at him or grabbed the mask or told him what to do. They were waiting for him to decide. It made Benny feel very grown-up.
“All right,” he said, handing the mask to the man next to him.
“We would like to invite you to come back to the powwow on Saturday. By then we will know about the mask,” the man said to the children.
On their way out of the park, the Aldens saw a group of people gathered around a table labeled “Fry bread.”
“That’s what Katrina ate in the Prairie Girls book,” said Violet. “We should try it.”
The children joined the line, watching a woman pull a small piece of dough off a big piece. She quickly rolled it into a ball, rolled it in flour, then patted it flat. Then she poked a hole in the middle. “The hole lets the oil get into the middle so the fry bread cooks evenly,” explained Violet.
“Everyone stand back,” said the woman. All the children took a giant step back as she dropped the dough into a large pan. Hot oil spattered like a Fourth-of-July sparkler. As the dough bubbled merrily in the hot oil, she added many more breads to the pan.
When they were done she scooped them onto paper towels to drain. Some people ordered their fry bread plain, and some asked for regular sugar.
“I’m having powdered sugar,” said Benny. When it was their turn, Henry, Jessie, and Violet all ordered the powdered sugar, too. The children sat under a large maple tree to enjoy their treats.
Officer Morgan found them there. “Thanks for leaving your mask, Benny,” he said as he walked towards them.
“You’re welcome,” said Benny, who by now had a powdered-sugar moustache.
“We need to talk to Grandma Belle,” Henry said. “If the people here think that this mask may belong to the Hopi tribe, then maybe there are other things that Grandma Belle has that need to be returned to these people.”
“Do you think that Grandma Belle’s father stole the masks from the Hopi tribe?” Benny asked.
“I don’t know,” said Henry. “But that’s what we need to find out.”
As the children pedaled through town, they passed the drugstore. Down the block, Henry spotted the orange pickup truck they had seen in their alley parked in front of the diner.
“Something’s wrong with that truck,” said Henry.
“It’s orange,” said Violet, who much preferred softer colors.
Jessie wrinkled her nose. “It’s all bumped and dented and has more rust than a sunken ship.”
“No,” said Henry, studying the truck. “I know what’s wrong. Those are the same bikes and swing set in the back as before. Mr. Robbins would have sold them all by now, and collected all sorts of new things.”
“You mean he’s not a junker like Mr. Robbins?” asked Violet. “He’s just pretending to be a junker?”
Henry nodded. “That way, people aren’t suspicious when they see him driving up and down the alleys.”
“Alleys like ours,” said Benny, his face growing red with excitement. “He could have stolen my mask from our garage!”
“And maybe,” said Jessie, “he stole things, like the candleholder, from Grandma Belle’s garage. Maybe he’s the one who took it to the antique store.”
Henry jumped on his bike. “Quick! We have to get over to Grandma Belle’s to let her know what’s going on before anything else disappears.”
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