The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost (4 page)

“Don’t
any of the clippings tell you?” Honey asked.

Wilhelmina
shook her head.
“Unfortunately, no.
Everyone leaped to
the conclusion that the two phenomena were one.”

“Why
don’t you ask somebody?” Trixie asked. “Bill seemed to know all about it.”

“All
in good time,” Wilhelmina said. “Interviews are certainly part of any serious
investigation. For scientific purposes, however, it’s best that the trained
observer approach the phenomenon with an open mind.”

“You
mean you’d like to see the ghost yourself before you talk to anybody about it,”
Trixie said.

“Exactly,”
Wilhelmina agreed. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t know if I was seeing what was really
there, or merely what I’d been told to expect.”

“I
guess you haven’t seen the ghost yet,” Trixie said. When Wilhelmina shook her
head, Trixie asked, “Did you see old Gus last night?” Wilhelmina shook her head
again.

Trixie
felt the hairs on her arms begin to prickle. “How come I saw him and you
didn’t?” she asked.

“That
question has occurred to me. So far, I do not have a suitable explanation.”

“C-can
one person
see
a ghost when somebody else watching the
same spot at the same time doesn’t?” Trixie asked.

“Yes,”
Wilhelmina said matter-of-factly. “Sometimes everyone will see the phenomenon;
or only one or two will see it; or one will see and hear it, while others only
see it or only hear it.”

“Then
it really could have been—” Trixie couldn’t bring herself to finish the
sentence.

“It
really could have been old Gus, whom I missed because I was pouring a cup of
coffee or merely looking in the wrong direction. However, people who go looking
for apparitions rarely see them. That is another reason why I have chosen to
hide myself for this portion of the investigation.”

“Can
you hide from a ghost?” Trixie asked
skeptically
.

“Probably
not, but one does what one can to minimize the disturbance of the aura,”
Wilhelmina said.

“Could
we help you with your investigation?” Honey asked timidly.

“It
would be enormously helpful if you would protect my secrecy,” the woman said.
When both girls nodded their agreement, she added, “Beyond that, anything you
can find out about this Galloping Ghost from the locals might be helpful. But
be subtle, or they’ll tell you only what they think you want to hear.”

“How
will we find you?” Trixie asked. “Are you staying in town? Do you have a
telephone?”

“I’m
here at my post every afternoon at 4 o’clock.” With that, Wilhelmina seemed to
shut the girls out, turning to scan the distance with the binoculars.

Trixie
wasn’t even sure if Wilhelmina heard her say, “We’ll let you know about
anything we find out.”

The
girls walked back to the house in silence. They were concentrating too hard on
finding their way through the dark to carry on a conversation.

As
they reached the house, Trixie remembered something she had to ask Honey. “Was
that really a bat out there by the stable?”

“Don’t
ask me,” Honey said with a smile. “I never could tell the difference.”

Both girls slept
fitfully that
night. When they sat down at the breakfast table the next morning, they were
blurry-eyed and yawning.

“In
bed by 10 o’clock and you can’t wake up by 7!” Bill Murrow chided.

Trixie
blushed and stared at her plate, knowing it had been nearly midnight when she
and Honey had returned from the meeting with Wilhelmina James. I wonder if he’s
teasing us because he suspects something, she thought.

If
he did suspect, he wasn’t about to let on.

Instead
he said, “You must be bored with
Minnesota
life already.” At the girls’ protests, he merely raised a hand. “Don’t try to
argue. I know the symptoms, and you’ve both got ’em. Fortunately, I also know
the cure. About four hours bouncing around in the saddle and you’ll be as good
as new.”

“A
trail ride!”
Trixie exclaimed, suddenly wide-awake.
“I’d love it!”

“Me, too!”
Honey agreed. “But you’d have to draw us a map. We
don’t know the trails around here.”

“Oh,
I’ll do better than that. I’ll send a guide along.” He stared across the table
at his son, who was busily eating.

There
was a long silence before Pat sensed that all eyes were upon him and looked up.
“Who, me?” he asked.

Bill
Murrow pushed back his chair and rose from the table. “Thanks for volunteering,
son,” he said, and strode out the door.

“But
I—” Pat broke off as he realized that his father couldn’t hear his protests. “I
guess the horses need exercise, anyway,” he said. “I can get them ready.”

“Oh,
let us help, please,” Honey said.

Pat
looked at the slender girl doubtfully.

“The
rule back home is, ‘No work, no ride,’ ” Regan told Pat. “If you start spoiling
them, I’ll have a heck of a time when we get back.”

Regan’s
request seemed to turn the tide. “All right,” Pat said. He pushed back his
chair, walked to the door, and held it open for Trixie and Honey.

Both
girls jumped up from the table eagerly.
The difference is that I want to go so I can ask about the Galloping
Ghost,
Trixie thought.
All
Honey is thinking about is the Handsome Horseman!

In
the stable, Pat assigned the girls to two mares, Mur-Elda and Mur-
Hadj
. From the prefixes, Trixie knew that the horses had
been raised on the
Murrows
’ ranch. That would account
for the horses’ sweet dispositions, although both had an Arabian spirit.

Pat
didn’t quite trust the girls’ abilities with the horses. He bridled the two
mares himself, led them into the corral, and handed the girls brushes and
currycombs. When he came back with the blankets and saddles, he ran his hand
along both horses’ backs, checking for signs of loose hair or dirt before he
let the girls proceed with saddling up.

As if we didn’t know that dirt under the blanket
causes saddle sores!
Trixie thought resentfully as she settled the blanket
on the horse’s back.

“It’s
just that he cares so much about the horses,” Honey said, reading her friend’s
thoughts. “He doesn’t know how strict Regan has been with us.”

“I
guess so,” Trixie said, feeling unconvinced.

Pat
reappeared from the stable leading a saddled and bridled Al-
Adeen
.
He tied the stallion to a fence post and came over to double-check the cinches.
Finding no fault with the girls’ work, he let out a grunt that could have been
either surprise or approval, walked back to his own horse, and swung easily
into the saddle.

“I’m
surprised he didn’t offer us a leg up,” Trixie muttered as she mounted Mur-
Hadj
.

“Trixie!”
Honey gave her friend a pleading look.

“All
right, all right,” Trixie replied. “I won’t make any trouble.”
As long as Honey likes Pat Murrow so much,
I’ll try to like him, too,
she told herself.

“Just a minute!”
Mrs. Murrow called. She hurried toward them, holding
a large paper bag in one hand and a Thermos in the other. She handed them up to
Pat, saying, “I put in some cookies and a few apples and mixed up some
lemonade.”

“We
won’t be gone forever,” Pat said, knowing his mom’s mothering instincts all too
well.

“Be
sure to stop and rest somewhere along the way,” Mrs. Murrow told him. “The
girls probably aren’t used to spending all day on a horse, the way you are.”

“That’s
very nice of you,” Honey said.

“You
just stop him if he pushes too hard,” was Mrs. Murrow’s indirect reply.

Trixie
had been expecting the trail ride to go along the river. Instead, Pat led them
down the gravel drive and out along the shoulder of the blacktop road. He set
the pace at a sedate walk.

At
that leisurely pace, Trixie was able to relax and enjoy the view. The
countryside was one of low, rolling hills. Everything—trees, grass, crops—was
the tender green of early summer. The sky was cloudless and the sun was warm
and gentle. There was just enough
breeze
to waft
fresh, sweet smells Trixie’s way.

Lost
in her enjoyment of the scene, Trixie wasn’t sure when she first became aware
of the drone of machinery. It was growing quite loud by the time Pat urged his
horse into a canter. Matching his pace, Trixie caught a glimpse of a large sign
on the same side of the road as the
Murrows
’ ranch.
The sign said
Burke
Landing.
Behind the sign, the land was bare and brown, with stacks of
huge felled trees piled around. Out of the stripped land rose a large frame
structure on which construction crews were busily working. Earth movers were
already digging the foundations for more buildings. At the edge of the clearing
was a construction trailer with a sign nailed to its side that said
Reserve now. Open
daily
9-4.

Just
beyond Burke Landing ran a gravel road. Pat led the girls along it, and soon
they came to a lake edged by a dirt path. They circled the lake, alternately
trotting and cantering. Mur-
Hadj
was a joy to ride,
Trixie discovered. The mare responded effortlessly to every command. Her small
size let Trixie feel at one with her, instead of overwhelmed as she sometimes
felt on bigger horses.

Pat
Murrow never turned around to look at the girls, but sometimes he turned his
head to the side, as if to check their progress by the sound of the horses’
hooves.

On
one straight, level stretch of ground, he kicked his horse into a full gallop.
Honey, riding right behind him, hesitated for a second before following his
lead. Trixie didn’t hesitate at all before
signaling
Mur-
Hadj
to follow— and she doubted if the fiery
little mare would have stood for being left behind, anyway.

Trixie
felt the wind whistling past her face. She gathered the reins more firmly in
her hands and gripped the saddle with her knees. It was a wonderful,
exhilarating feeling, and it ended too soon. As the path headed downhill, Pat
reined Al-
Adeen
into a more manageable canter, then
down to a trot, and finally into a walk. After another few yards, he pulled his
horse off the path altogether and Trixie saw that they had come to a picnic
area.

Pat
took the bag and the Thermos out of his saddlebag, walked to a picnic table,
and began to set out the food. Trixie felt another flare of resentment at not
being consulted about the rest stop. But the stiffness of her muscles as she
dismounted convinced her it was a good idea.

Honey
seemed eager for the chance to sit and talk with Pat. She helped him pour the
lemonade into the paper cups his mother had provided, then sat down across from
him and gave him her most winning smile. “This is a beautiful place. Do you
come here often?” she asked.

Pat
nodded while drinking his lemonade.

“I
was surprised that we didn’t ride along the river,” Honey said.

“No
place to go,” Pat told her. “There’s a forest on one side that’s full of
deerflies this time of year. They’d drive the horses crazy. The other side of
our ranch is—is private land.” He picked up an apple and began polishing it
against his shirt sleeve.

“It
looked like a construction site,” said Honey. “What’s being built there?”

“A
darned nuisance,” Pat Murrow said curtly.

“Wait
a minute!” Trixie exclaimed. “Wasn’t Burke the man your father talked to
yesterday?”

Pat
Murrow fixed her with such an angry look that Trixie felt her pulse quicken.
“Sorry,” she said, “just asking.”

Pat
softened his gaze. “It wasn’t your question,” he admitted. “It’s just that
Burke and his little project aren’t big
favorites
of
mine.”

“The
project must be Burke Landing,” Honey guessed. “What is it?”

Pat
grimaced. “It’s what they call a time-share resort complex,” he said. “City
folks pay big money for the chance to spend two weeks every year out here with
Mother Nature. Only they do it in an apartment with all the modern
conveniences. The apartments are all stacked up in a bunch of big, ugly
buildings.”

“Yuck!”
Trixie said.

Pat
looked at her and, for the first time, showed a glimmer of a smile. “I couldn’t
have put it better myself,” he said.

“I
can understand why you wouldn’t want something like that right next door,”
Honey said. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“Sure,”
Pat told her. “Burke himself has given us the perfect solution. We just sell
out to him and go someplace where it’s peaceful.”

“That’s
what he wanted your father to think about,” Trixie surmised, remembering the
men’s conversation at the corral. “But it doesn’t sound like your father is
taking the offer very seriously.”

“Of course not.
It’s our land,” Pat retorted, as though those three
words explained everything. “My father was born here. His father brought an
Arabian horse to the ranch from the East before folks around here had even
heard of such an animal. Grandpa got thrown off that horse and broke his neck
and died. My dad could have shot it, but that wouldn’t have proved anything. He
trained it, instead. That was his memorial to his father. So is the ranch.”
Pat’s brown eyes flared with emotion.

Gee!
Trixie thought.
This is the guy I thought was an unfeeling
jerk.

Seeing
the girls’ admiring looks, Pat suddenly turned cold again. “Besides, moving the
operation would set the horses back six months because they’re so sensitive. It
would be crazy to do that when we’re finally on the verge of making it big.”

“He
can’t force you to sell, can he?” Honey asked.

Pat
snorted. “He would if he could. But he hasn’t, so I guess he can’t.” For a
moment, his bantering tone made him sound just like his father. He gave Honey a
big smile that showed even, white teeth and made a dimple appear in his right
cheek.

Oh, no,
Trixie thought.
That did it. She’ll have stars in her eyes
and her feet in the clouds for the rest of the trip.

“Anyway,
we’d better head back,” Pat said curtly. “I have some work to do with the other
horses this afternoon.” He gathered up the food wrappers and empty cups, and
stuffed them into the saddlebag on Al-
Adeen
.

“We
used up his whole day’s quota of conversation and we didn’t get one word about
the Galloping Ghost,” Trixie muttered to Honey on their way back to their own
horses.

“But
we found out about the Burke mystery. You were curious about it yesterday,”
Honey pointed out.

“That
was yesterday,” Trixie said, “before I knew there was a
phenomenon
to be curious about.”

Honey
giggled at Trixie’s careful use of the proper word. “Day
before
yesterday, all you cared
about was a silly old ghost,” she teased.

“
Yeah,
and way back then you thought Pat Murrow would look
like a horse,” Trixie countered.

Honey
looked at Pat and sighed. Happily, her original guess had been incorrect. “It’s
still early in the day, Trixie. We’ll find out about the Galloping Ghost
somehow.”

As
they completed their ride around the lit-tie lake, Trixie found it hard to
believe that such a beautiful place could be haunted.

The
sounds of construction shattered the calm once again as they neared Burke
Landing
on their way home.
I wish the ghost would haunt that place, to make it all stop,
Trixie thought. Now Trixie could tell that the development was going to be
huge.
Once this place is built,
there will be so many people and so much traffic. It’ll be hard to ride this
road without being hit by a car. Having a horse killed would be worse than
having its training set back a few months.
Still, it wasn’t her
decision to make, and she was glad of that.