The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost
Read The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost Online
Authors: Julie Campbell
The TRIXIE BELDEN Series
1 The Secret of the
Mansion
2 The Red Trailer
Mystery
3 The Gatehouse
Mystery
4 The Mysterious
Visitor
5 The Mystery
Off
Glen Road
6 The Mystery in
Arizona
7 The Mysterious
Code
8 The Black Jacket
Mystery
9 The Happy Valley Mystery
10 The Marshland
Mystery
11 The Mystery at
Bob-White
Cave
12 The Mystery of
the Blinking Eye
13 The Mystery on
Cobbett’s
Island
14 The Mystery of
the Emeralds
15 The Mystery on
the
Mississippi
16 The Mystery of
the Missing Heiress
17 The Mystery of
the Uninvited Guest
18 The Mystery of
the Phantom Grasshopper
19 The Secret of the
Unseen Treasure
20 The Mystery
Off
Old
Telegraph Road
21 The Mystery of
the Castaway Children
22 The Mystery at
Mead’s Mountain
23 The Mystery of
the Queen’s Necklace
24 The Mystery at
Saratoga
25 The Sasquatch
Mystery
26 The Mystery of
the Headless Horseman
27 The Mystery of
the Ghostly Galleon
28 The
Hudson River
Mystery
29 The Mystery of
the Velvet Gown
30 The Mystery of
the Midnight Marauder
31 The Mystery at
Maypenny’s
32 The Mystery of
the Whispering Witch
33 The Mystery of
the Vanishing Victim
34 The Mystery of
the Missing Millionaire
35 The Mystery of
the Memorial Day Fire
36 The Mystery of
the Antique Doll
37 The Pet Show
Mystery
38 The Indian Burial
Ground Mystery
39 The Mystery of
the Galloping Ghost
Copyright © 1986 by Western Publishing Company, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Printed in the
U.S.A.
No part
of this book may be reproduced or copied in any form without written permission
from the publisher. GOLDEN®, GOLDEN &
DESIGN,® A GOLDEN BOOK®, and
TRIXIE BELDEN® are trademarks of Western Publishing Company, Inc. Library of
Congress
Catalog
Card Number: 85-81569
ISBN 0-307-21562-8/ISBN 0-307-61562-6 (lib.
bdg
.)
All names,
characters, and events in this story are entirely fictitious.
The
Twilight Rider
“I
can’t believe
we’re
in
Minnesota
!”
four-teen-year-old Trixie Belden exclaimed. She turned to look out the side
window of the car,
then
swiveled
around to look out the back. Facing forward again, she rested her forearms on
the seat ahead of her.
“If
you really don’t believe it, just look— there’s another lake,” Honey Wheeler
said from the front seat. “
Minnesota
is the land of ten thousand lakes, and I’ll bet we’ve seen a thousand of them
since we left the Wadena airport!”
“We
saw another nine thousand from the air,” Trixie added. “It was so beautiful—all
those little pools of deep blue water, surrounded by all those deep green
fields and forests.” She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes,
remembering the trip from
Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson
,
New York
, where she and Honey
lived. Then she quickly opened her eyes and sat up again, afraid of missing a
single new sight.
“That’s
what I love about riding in a small plane like the one Daddy’s company owns,”
Honey said. “It flies closer to the ground, so you get to see everything much
better.”
“What
I love about your father’s plane is that it’s one reason I was able to come on
this trip,” Trixie said.
“What
I’d
love is a little silence while I wrestle with this infernal
machine,” the driver of the car said gruffly.
Both
girls looked at Bill Regan, who had hardly spoken since they’d set off from the
airport in the rented car. Though the Wheelers’ groom knew everything in the
world about horses, he’d always admitted that he didn’t understand or like
cars. Now he was driving a strange car over strange roads, and his usual
easygoing personality was temporarily altered.
Honey
put her finger to her lips. Trixie nodded and sat back.
I don’t want to do
anything
to ruin this vacation,
she thought.
It
had all come about quite suddenly—as suddenly as an evening phone call from
Honey Wheeler, who’d said, “Guess what! We’re going to
Minnesota
for two whole weeks!” Honey was so
excited that the whole story had come out in bits and pieces, interrupted by
happy exclamations.
“It’s
all because of the
Murrows
,” Honey had said. “They’re
horse breeders and trainers, and they’re from
Maple Lake
,
Minnesota
.
Won’t it be a wonderful place to visit? The
Murrows
aren’t wealthy and can’t afford expensive breeding stock or high-priced
trainers, but they produce really outstanding Arabian horses. Daddy met the
Murrows
at a horse show, and he was impressed with them. So
he’s sending Regan out to study their operation, and I convinced Daddy to send
us along. Don’t you just love it?”
“I
do!” Trixie had
agreed,
her freckled face already
radiant. “My parents won’t, though. You know how they feel about taking advantage
of your parents’ generosity, and I can’t possibly afford a dream trip like this
for myself.”
“I
knew you’d say that,” Honey had retorted. “But look, Regan is flying in Daddy’s
company plane. One passenger or three won’t make any difference in the cost.
Once we’re there, we’ll stay with the
Murrows
, free
of charge. The trip will hardly cost anything. Besides, if you don’t go, it
will wreck my vacation. So how can you say you’re taking advantage?”
Trixie
knew that Honey had meant what she said. With some difficulty, she’d managed to
convince her parents, as well. Two days later, the girls were in northern
Minnesota
.
I
wouldn’t want to make a trip without Honey, either,
Trixie
thought.
Not that there would be much danger of that. In a big family like
mine, vacations don’t come along too often.
Trixie’s
family consisted of her parents, her two older brothers—Brian and Mart—and a
younger brother, Bobby. The
Beldens
were a very
close-knit family. Trixie squabbled frequently with her older brothers, but
they never doubted her loyalty or affection. And, although she complained about
having to baby-sit for six-year-old Bobby, she enjoyed reading him stories and,
most of the time, answering his endless questions.
Gee,
Trixie thought,
I hope I don’t spend the whole two weeks feeling homesick.
“Look!”
Honey exclaimed just then, pointing straight ahead.
Trixie
looked and saw a huge bird in flight. It was gray, with a tiny head and a long,
thin neck. The bird might have been laughable, if it hadn’t been for the slow,
graceful motion of its long wings. “If
Ichabod
Crane
came back as a bird, that’s what he’d look like,” Trixie said.
Honey
giggled at that.
Trixie
turned to look out the side window once again, her homesick spell ended.
It’s
almost as if Honey knew I needed a distraction,
Trixie thought.
She’s so
sensitive to other people’s feelings.
She looked fondly at her best friend,
whose blue eyes were sparkling with excitement.
Honey
had always been sensitive, but the sparkle in her eyes hadn’t always been
there. When the Wheelers had first moved into the Manor House, just down the
road from the
Beldens
’
Crabapple
Farm, Honey had been thin, frail, and shy. An
only child, she’d grown up in boarding schools and summer camps, while her
wealthy parents
traveled
throughout the world.
The
Manor House was to be a real home for Honey. One of her favorite teachers, Miss
Trask
, had been hired as a full-time manager. It was
also a place for Matthew Wheeler to indulge in some hobbies, such as a stable
of purebred horses and a well-stocked game preserve that occupied hundreds of
acres around the house.
With
all its attractions, the Manor House had done a lot to improve Honey’s outlook.
But Honey’s friendship with Trixie Belden and her brothers had done even more.
And almost immediately, Trixie and Honey had befriended a runaway orphan named
Jim Frayne, who eventually was adopted by the Wheelers, giving Honey the older
brother she’d always wanted.
At
the thought of Jim, Trixie felt another pang of homesickness.
I wish the
boys could have come along,
she thought.
But they couldn’t do that
and
work as junior
counselors
at camp later this
summer
and
do all the fix-up projects our parents have lined up for
them.
Diana
Lynch and Dan
Mangan
also had other summer plans. Di
and Dan—plus Trixie, her older brothers, Honey, and Jim—made up the Bob-Whites
of the Glen, a club devoted to having fun and helping others.
Bobby
Belden, of course, would have been more than willing to come along, but neither
of the girls was eager to spend a summer vacation looking after a rambunctious
six-year-old.
So
it’s just the two of us, for once,
Trixie concluded silently. Aloud
she said, “Are we almost there?”
Regan
straightened his shoulders and, with an effort, relaxed his grip on the
steering wheel. “We must be getting pretty close,” he said, sounding eager for
the car trip to end.
“There’s
our exit,” Honey exclaimed after double-checking the directions the
Murrows
had sent.
Regan
turned off the highway onto a two-lane blacktop road lined with towering maple
trees. “This must be so pretty in the fall, when the leaves change.” Trixie
said.
“Oh,
yes. We’ll have to come back to see!” Honey said with a laugh.
Finally they came to a sign that said Fair-haven
Ranch, and they turned onto a long gravel driveway.
It
was another quarter of a mile before they came to a clearing that held the
house, the stable, and the corral, as well as the many other outbuildings that
occupy a horse ranch. Regan parked the car at the edge of the clearing, where
it would be out of the way—and, Trixie suspected, out of his thoughts for the
next two weeks.
A
dog had begun barking as soon as the car stopped. Now it came toward them, a
large golden retriever, barking and wagging its tail at the same time.
Behind
the dog came a tall, slender man who looked around fifty. His face was tanned
under his straw cowboy hat, and his neck was burned red under the open collar
of his blue
workshirt
. “That dog’s bite is a lot
worse than his bark,” the man teased. “You girls don’t have to worry, though.
Not enough meat on your skinny little bones for him to bother with.” He winked
at the girls, and held out a large, calloused hand to Regan. “I’m Bill
Mur-row,” he said.
Regan
introduced himself and the girls. In response to their host’s inquiry about the
trip, Regan could only say, “I’d rather have come on horseback.”
Bill
Murrow gave the red-haired young man a knowing look. “You like your horses one
at a time, under a saddle, instead of a hundred at a time under a hood, right?
Same here.
Come on up to the house. I’ll give you a cup of
my wife’s good strong coffee. It’ll make you so nervous, you’ll forget all
about the drive!” Trixie, already giggling, looked at Honey, who rolled her
eyes. It was going to be a memorable trip, all right.
Charlene
Murrow was just as calm and low-key as her husband was high-spirited. She
quickly took charge of getting everyone settled in. For the girls, there was a
small but comfortable twin-bedded room that had belonged to her daughter, now
grown and married. To Regan, she said, “You have a choice of the guest room
here, or the living quarters above the stable, which you’d share with Pat.”
After Regan quickly—and predictably— opted for the room above the stable, Honey
asked, “Is Pat your hired hand?”
“Nope,”
Bill replied. “He’s slave
labor
.”
“Bill!”
Mrs. Murrow exclaimed in a scandalized tone. Turning to the girls, she said,
“He’s our son. And if he’s a slave, it’s to his passion for horses. Why, the
day he turned sixteen, he announced that he was moving into the apartment he’d
fixed up over the stable. Since then, I can’t even drag him into the house,
except for meals.” As if suddenly remembering the subject of meals, Charlene
began bustling about the kitchen.
Regan
and Bill left for the stable, and Trixie and Honey went to their room to
unpack. “That Bill is certainly a character, isn’t he?” Trixie said in a low
voice.
Honey
nodded, a smile coming to her face as she remembered his antics. “Mrs. Murrow
is, too, in her own way. She pretends to be shocked by Bill, but I think she’s
just playing along.”
“I
can hardly wait to see what Pat is like,” Trixie said.
“He’s
so attached to his horses, he probably looks like one—buck teeth, bulging brown
eyes, and one lock of hair hanging down over his forehead.”
Honey’s
description of a
horselike
human made Trixie picture
a humanlike horse seated at the
Murrows
’ big kitchen
table. She began to giggle. In a moment, Honey had caught the giggling fit, and
both girls were lying on their beds, holding their sides.
“Oh,
how are we going to face Pat Murrow now?” Trixie wailed.
As
soon as they calmed down, they went to the kitchen and offered to help Mrs.
Murrow prepare supper. She put them to work peeling carrots and washing celery,
slicing homemade bread, and setting the table. An hour went by quickly and
wonderful aromas filled the air.
Mrs.
Murrow stepped out onto the screened back porch and rang an old-fashioned dinner
bell. Trixie and Honey exchanged amused looks, but didn’t dare whisper Pat
Murrow’s name, for fear of setting off another giggling attack.
Minutes
later, the girls heard the sound of heavy boots on the porch. The door opened
and Regan stepped inside, followed by Bill Murrow, who guided his guest down
the hall to show him where to wash up. The last person inside was a tall,
slender teenager, too muscular to be called thin. He had high cheekbones and a
long, straight nose. He did, indeed, have
large
brown eyes and a lock of brown hair that strayed
across his forehead, but the effect was far from
horselike
.
“Pat,
this is Trixie Belden,” Mrs. Murrow said.
“Hello,”
Trixie said.
Pat’s
answer was just a nod.
“And
this is Matt Wheeler’s daughter, Honey,” Mrs. Murrow concluded.
Honey
stepped forward and held out her hand. Pat stared at her, but made no immediate
attempt to take the hand. After an awkward pause, Honey dropped her hand—just
as Pat offered his. Realizing he was too late, Pat dropped his hand—just as Honey
raised hers. Honey shrugged helplessly and giggled. Pat turned and headed down
the hall to the bathroom.