The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost (7 page)

“What
I think,” Trixie said, “is that it would be worth paying another visit to
Wilhelmina James tomorrow, to find out what
she
thinks.”

The
next day brought no mysterious occurrences, only a visit from Jon Burke. This
time, Charlene, Bill, and Pat all clustered around his pickup truck and talked
for a while. Some agreement must have been reached, Trixie realized, because
Burke was smiling when he left. She noticed, however, that when Burke held out
his hand, all of the
Murrows
pretended not to see it.

That
night at supper, Bill said, “Well, Miss Wheeler, by the time you leave, I may
have good news for you to take to your father.”

“What’s
that?” Honey asked.

“He’d
asked me if I could board and train some horses for him. I said no, because I
didn’t have room. But it may be that we’ll be moving to larger quarters.”

Trixie
couldn’t help but look at Pat. His face was expressionless.
He’s doing his best to go along with this,
Trixie thought.

“Nothing’s
for sure yet,” Bill added. “It all depends on what kind of offer we get from
our
neighbor
to the south. We aren’t about to be run
off our land, but we aren’t going to turn down a good opportunity, either.”

“Daddy
would be delighted if you could work with some of his horses,” Honey said
tactfully.

“Does
your dad have Arabians?” Pat asked.

“He
owns mostly Thoroughbreds,” Honey replied.

“Well,
Thoroughbreds have a lot of Arab blood in them. The temperaments are similar
enough that we should be able to work with them,” Pat said confidently.

“Oh,
I know you could,” Honey said eagerly. “Of course, after what I’ve seen the
past few days, I might just try to talk him into buying some Arabians.” She
smiled at Pat and, astonishingly, he smiled back.

He’s making all kinds of changes,
Trixie thought.
This one is
definitely for the best!

That
afternoon, Pat proved that the change was not a fleeting one. He spoke often to
Trixie, and even more often to Honey. Pat’s friendliness drove all thought of
mysteries from Honey’s mind, and Trixie was content to let her friend enjoy the
attention she’d been hoping for.

Honey
felt happy about Pat, and Trixie quickly caught the spirit. Instead of falling
asleep at dusk, as the girls had been doing, they sat up talking in their room.
They reviewed the happenings of their vacation, deciding which ones would most
interest Brian, Mart, and Jim, and which ones Bobby would enjoy.

For
Honey, the most exciting stories had Pat Murrow as their star. “You know what I
think?” she said, out of the blue.

“What’s
that?” Trixie asked.

“I
think this whole incident made Pat realize that he was just too wrapped up in
this ranch. The mere thought that a sale might come between him and his father
made him wake up. I think he knows he has to start paying some attention to the
people in his life.” Honey’s voice was soft and dreamy.

For
the first time, Trixie realized that it had gradually grown dark in the room.
Quietly, to keep from breaking Honey’s reverie, she got up and crossed the room
to turn on a lamp. A noise outside the bedroom window made her freeze with her
hand on the switch.

“
Hoofbeats
!”
Trixie said in
alarm. She raced to the window to look.

No
one was there.

“Who’s
riding around at this time of night?” Honey asked.

Trixie
turned from the window and sat down at the foot of Honey’s bed, weak-kneed. “I
heard galloping hooves and they were close by. But there wasn’t a thing in
sight. Honey, it must have been—” She stopped, reluctant to put her suspicion
into words.

“The
Galloping Ghost,” Honey breathed. She shivered as if feeling a sudden chill.

“There’s
no other explanation.”

“We
have to tell Wilhelmina!”

Trixie
shook her head. “I wouldn’t go out there tonight for anything. And we don’t
know where she is during the day. I guess we’ll just have to hold off till
tomorrow night.”

“I
can hardly wait!” said Honey.

When Trixie and Honey
woke up the
next day, they were convinced it would be the longest of their lives. But they
were soon distracted by the arrival of the familiar red pickup truck, followed
by a van with the name D & K Surveying printed on its side.

Burke
strutted around the ranch yard as though he already owned it, giving
instructions to two surveyors he’d brought along.

Trixie
and Honey both kept a resentful watch on Burke and a close one on Pat. The boy
was still getting along well with his father, but there was no telling what
might push him back over the edge.

Everyone
tried to ignore Burke and the surveying crew, and to enjoy the horse-training
session. But it wasn’t easy. Later Burke drove off and the two surveyors stayed
behind. One went to a far corner of the property, and the other stood with a
telescope-like piece of equipment on a tripod. Regan had explained that the
object was called a “transit,” and would let the surveyors determine the exact
limit of the
Murrows
’ property.

“I
don’t know why he needs to know all that just to make an offer,” Trixie said
sullenly.

Regan’s
lip curled in a rare look of contempt. “I don’t think he does. If you ask me,
it’s just a clever ploy. The
Murrows
will start
getting used to seeing Burke here and to the idea of selling. Then, when he
does make an offer, they’ll be more ready to accept it.” Trixie stared at
Regan, her blue eyes round with surprise and dismay. “Why, that’s awful! You
have to tell Bill, so he doesn’t fall for it.” Regan smiled broadly. “Where do
you think I heard the theory?” he asked. “No, you don’t have to worry about our
friend Bill. He knows how to take care of himself. If Burke tries too hard to
be clever, he could wind up being very sorry.”

Just
then, they heard a shout from one of the surveyors. They turned to see him
picking up his tripod and running with it to the van. He got in, started up the
engine, and drove right across the ranch yard to pick up his partner. Then they
headed off in the direction of Burke Landing.

“What
do you suppose got into him?” Regan wondered aloud.

Bill
Murrow came wandering over, a twinkle in his eyes. “Burke must have agreed to
pay only for a two-hour stint,” he said, checking his watch. “Looks like their
time just ran out.”

“Hmm,”
Trixie said. “That guy took off too fast—as though something were chasing him.”

Bill
shrugged and walked back toward the stable. Obviously, the concerns of Burke’s
surveyors were no concern of his.

The
minute the strangers were gone, some of the old spirit returned to the training
session. Regan entered the corral to get some pointers from Pat and Bill.
Trixie and Honey leaned against the corral rail and watched, enjoying the
elegance of the horses and the ease and grace of their trainers. Even old Gus
came by to take in the show.

The
respite didn’t last long, however. Within twenty minutes there came the crunch
of gravel and grinding of gears that always
signaled
the arrival of Burke’s truck. Burke got out, slammed the door behind him, and
strode over to the corral.

Bill
Murrow saw him coming, but took his own sweet time walking over to greet him.
“What can I do you for, Burke?” he asked.

Burke’s
face was red with anger. “What’s all this about a ghost?” he demanded.

The
question made Trixie feel as though time had stopped. She waited anxiously to
hear more.

Then
Bill said, “I can’t say as I know what you’re
talkin
’
about.”

“The
surveyors just came tearing back to my place like the devil was on their trail.
One of ’em said he’d been looking through the transit and he saw a face rise up
right in front of the lens. A ‘disembodied head,’ he called it. He’s convinced
it’s the Galloping Ghost, and he refuses to come back and finish the job.”

“Well,
I’m sorry about that. Maybe you can get your money back,” Bill said, his voice
dripping honey.

“That’s
not the point!” Burke was nearly shouting. “I’m running a real estate
development here, Murrow! What kind of sales am I going to have if word gets
out that the place
is
haunted?”

“That
could cause a few problems,” Bill admitted.

“You
know darned well it could. I’ll bet this was one of your tricks. I wouldn’t put
it past you to dream up this scheme to keep your land while you put me out of
business.”

Bill
held up his hands. “Not me. I had nothing to do with it.”

Bill sounds like I did when I tried to convince him
that I didn’t hide the combs and brushes,
Trixie
thought.

And
this time, it was Burke who wasn’t convinced. “Consider our deal to be
officially on hold, Murrow. And if this ridiculous ghost story spreads, the
deal will be off—and I’ll see you in court!”

Everyone
watched in stunned silence as Burke drove off. Then their attention turned to
Bill. The minute he realized that all eyes were on him, he barked, “What do you
think this
is,
a sideshow?
Back to
work, all of you!”
Pat quickly led his horse into the stable, and Regan
followed. Bill marched up to the house, presumably to tell Charlene that their
dreams had once again
come
tumbling down.

Trixie
and Honey weren’t sure what to do next, since they had no work to get back to.
Seeing Gus at the corral, they wandered over to him. “Are you still unsure
about the Galloping Ghost?” Trixie asked.

Gus
cocked his head left and then right, as if balancing the two sides of the
argument in his mind. “There’s something going on around here, you
betcha
. Maybe it’s the deerflies.”
Deerflies?
Trixie and Honey were both confused. “I’m sorry,” Trixie said. “You’ll have to
explain.”

“The
deerflies would be biting just awful in the woods around old Gunnar’s cabin
this time of year,” Gus said. “Maybe they drove him out altogether, and that’s
why he’s hanging around here.”

Was
Gus only kidding? He was grinning, but then, he almost always was. “Are you
saying that Gunnar had a cabin near here—and that it’s still standing?” Trixie
asked.

“That’s
right,” Gus said. “
It’s
state forest land now, but the
old shack is still there, about half a mile from the river. Just one little
room, but it’s the only building around. You can’t miss it. You don’t want to
go there now, though. Those deerflies would drive you crazy.”

Trixie
nodded vaguely at the warning. Tactfully, she led Honey away from the corral.
As soon as they were out of earshot of Gus, Trixie whispered, “We’ve got to go
see that cabin this afternoon! The more we can report to Wilhelmina tonight,
the better. Things are definitely strange around here, and I want an expert’s
opinion about what’s likely to happen next.”

Before
they could come up with their getaway plan, the lunch bell rang.

At
lunch everyone’s mood had changed. Bill was quiet and glum, a sign of how much
the deal with Burke really had meant to him. Charlene’s cheerfulness was
forced. Regan was unusually quiet. But Pat was downright jubilant.

“If
I ever run into that ghost, I’ll shake his hand,” Pat said. “And if he manages
to put Burke Landing out of business, I’ll shake his hand twice.”

“If
that ghost gets me sued, I’ll wring his neck,” Bill said.

Pat
gave a derisive hoot. “Do you really think Burke would sue you for dreaming up
the ghost to hurt his tourist trap? He’d never win in a million years!”

“He
wouldn’t have to. The money we’d spend defending ourselves against a nuisance
suit like that would drag us under,” Bill said.

“I’m
not going to worry about what happens next,” said Pat. “I’m just going to enjoy
the memory of Burke’s red face as he stomped off to that silly truck of his.”

“That
was pretty good,” Bill admitted. He began to chuckle and then to laugh. Pat
joined in, too. Soon everyone was relishing the memory, including Charlene, who
knew about the incident only from what Bill had told her.

The
lunch ended on that light note, and everyone went back to work. Trixie and
Honey slipped outside with the men, leaving Charlene to think they were going
to the stable. Once outside, they managed to go off on their own. They started
across the ranch yard slowly, as though they had no particular destination in
mind. Once under the cover of the fringe of trees, they hurried toward the
forest.

As
soon as the dense growth of trees surrounded them, they realized that Gus had
been telling the truth about the deerflies. The woods buzzed with them, and
Trixie and Honey had to keep shooing them away. Even so, the girls’ walk was
punctuated with slaps at their legs, arms, and ears.

“I’m
glad we’re wearing our riding boots,” Honey said. “Flies usually go for my
ankles.”

“These
boots aren’t great for walking, though,” Trixie said, as she nearly fell after
catching her boot heel on a root.

The
half-mile seemed like two or three, but eventually the girls spotted the
outline of old Gunnar’s cabin. It was indeed tiny—not more than ten feet on a
side, with a roof that was hardly higher than a tall man’s head. The cabin was
made of logs, with inch-wide cracks between them that had been filled with mud.
Much of the mud had fallen out over the years. What remained made a vivid
contrast to the weathered gray of the logs.

The
door was made of four vertical boards held together with two crosspieces. It
was sagging at an angle that kept it from closing completely. Trixie peered
through the crack to see inside, but the cabin was too dark.

“Well,
here goes,” she said as she prepared to pull the door open. “There probably
won’t be much to see, after all these years.”

Trixie
squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and pulled hard on the door. When it
creaked and swung open, she stepped inside quickly, before her courage left
her.

Inside,
as her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, she felt her heart thump once and
then seem to stop beating.

“It—it
looks like someone’s been here,” Honey breathed from behind her.

Trixie
nodded. “Like someone’s been
living
here,”
she whispered back.

The
cabin was dusty and dirty. That fit in with what they’d been told about old
Gunnar
Bjorkland
. But a tattered patchwork quilt was
stretched neatly over the narrow bed. An old hat, so worn that its original
style was unrecognizable, hung on the wall. Most remarkable of all, there was a
half-eaten meal on the table. A chipped, blue metal plate held a serving of
beans and a thick slice of crusty bread. A tin cup held coffee that was still
warm enough to be giving off an aroma. Trixie held her hand out over the beans
to confirm that they, too, were warm.

“I
don’t see any silverware,” Trixie said.

“Here.”
Honey bent down and picked up a fork that was lying on the floor between the
table and the doorway. “You walked right over it.” She tossed it onto the
table.

Trixie
hastened to inspect the rest of the room, knowing she didn’t want to stay there
for long. Fortunately, there wasn’t much else to see. An old dry sink stood under
the cabin’s one window. To the left of the window was a hanging cabinet. Under
that was a cast-iron stove.

Trixie
opened the cabinet door, saw that it was empty, and was just closing it when a
crow cawed in the forest. Startled, she jumped and banged her leg on the handle
of the iron stove. “Ouch!” she said, raising her voice for the first time since
she’d entered the cabin. She rubbed the spot with her hand and felt a welt
already rising.

“I’ve
seen enough,” Honey said. “Let’s go!”

Trixie
was only too happy to agree.

On
their way back through the forest, Trixie said, “We should have brought pencils
and paper so we could take notes on the spot. That’s what Wilhelmina would have
done. As soon as we get back, let’s write down everything.”

The
girls were grateful to have a project to keep them busy until dusk came and
they could sneak out to Wilhelmina’s hideout.

By
now, the route was familiar, and the girls made the trip quickly. “Besides,”
Trixie said, “after that cabin, the woods don’t seem spooky at all!”

When
they found Wilhelmina, they followed the plan they’d agreed on earlier. They
related the incidents of the past few days in order, including the disappearing
brushes and combs, the falling picture, the mysterious gust of wind, the
galloping
hoofbeats
, and the apparition in the
surveyor’s transit.

Wilhelmina
listened objectively, taking notes. She was angry at the girls for having
replaced the combs and brushes. “Any scientific value in the incident was, of
course, immediately lost at that point,” she said stiffly.

The
thundering
hoofbeats
she found more interesting, and
at the story of the surveyor’s sighting, she definitely perked up.