The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost (9 page)

“Forget
it,” Bill Murrow barked, cutting

Burke
off. “I was willing to sell out and relocate. I was willing to have the ranch I
grew up on
leveled
by your noisy bulldozers. But I am
not
willing to let my
place be turned into a tourist trap for a bunch of fools who want to see some
phony ghost!”

As
Bill spoke, he kept advancing on Burke, who kept moving backward to stay out of
his reach. By the time the speech was finished, Bill had backed the developer
all the way to his truck. Bill opened the door with a flourish. “Get in,” he
said. “And get out!” He turned his back and stormed away, and the developer
meekly obeyed.

Trixie
and Honey burst into applause. Pat tossed his hat into the air. “That’s
tellin
’ him, Dad!” he shouted.

“Yeah,
well, you’re the one who’s
goin
’ to inherit this
debt-ridden horse ranch,” Bill growled.

“It’s
a deal!” Pat said.

After
the confrontation, things seemed to return nearly
to
normal. Honey went back to watching Pat Murrow with rapt admiration— but Trixie
noticed that she hesitated and looked carefully around her before entering the
stable or the house.

At
bedtime, Trixie thought for a moment that Honey was over her scare. She
chattered away about the day’s experiences, reviewing the stories they’d have
to tell the other Bob-Whites when they got home. Even Trixie’s yawns didn’t
seem to slow Honey down.

She’s just delaying the moment when I’ll turn off
the light,
Trixie suddenly realized. Aloud she said, “It’s a
little stuffy in here. Mind if I open the door to the hall?”

Honey
readily agreed and, with the light from the hallway falling across the carpet,
she soon settled down and fell asleep.

I’ve got to do something to help Honey get her
confidence back,
Trixie thought.
I can’t have her going home to Sleepyside all timid again!

Trixie
tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, trying to come up with a plan to
help Honey. But nothing occurred to her. “An ironclad explanation of
retrocognition
is what I need—and soon,” she whispered in
the darkness. “But scholars have been working on that one for years!
Oh, brother.”

Eventually,
Trixie fell into a troubled sleep. In her dreams, she found herself reliving
her first visit to Gunnar
Bjorkland’s
cabin. She felt
the steam rising from the beans and coffee. She smelled the mustiness of the
cupboard as she opened it. She heard the cawing of the crow, and felt the cold
handle of the cast-iron stove as she bumped into it.

Trixie
sat bolt upright in bed, suddenly wide awake. “That’s it!” she exclaimed. “That
explains it!”

Trixie looked over
at Honey. The
girl had murmured in her sleep, but she hadn’t wakened at Trixie’s exclamation.

Trixie
started to call her friend’s name,
then
hesitated. She
was convinced that she had the explanation for the
retrocognition
.
In fact, she had proof that the whole incident was phony —and she had a theory
about who’d invented it.

But
what if she couldn’t convince Honey? The girl was so frightened by the
experience —and by the thought of another one like it—that she might not be
able to listen objectively.
In that
case, I’ll have awakened her in the dark of night only to get her scared all
over again,
Trixie thought. So she decided to let Honey soothe her
frazzled nerves with a good night’s sleep.

For
the rest of the night Trixie dozed on and off, fearful that a deep sleep would
make her forget her discovery. Each time she woke she felt a moment of panic,
then a wave of relief when her secret came back to her, as logical as ever.

Toward
dawn, Trixie fell into her deepest sleep of the night—one from which she was
awakened by shouting. She sat up, blinked in the early morning light, and tried
to make sense of what she’d heard. In the other bed, Honey seemed to be doing
the same.

Most
of the shouting was coming from Pat Murrow. Trixie could hear only the loudest
words in each sentence
: .
.
he
was gone.... of course, it was locked.... kicked it right down.... one powerful
stallion.”

“Oh, no!”
Trixie exclaimed
,
jumping
out of bed and pulling open the dresser drawer with one motion. “Al-
Adeen
must have broken loose!”

The
girls dressed as fast as they could. Charging into the hallway, they almost
collided with Bill Murrow, who was rolling up his shirt sleeve as he came out
of the bedroom. Out in the kitchen, the bacon was just beginning to sizzle in
the pan. Charlene stood frozen, still in her robe, holding the spatula. Pat and
Regan, fully dressed right down to hats and gloves, were standing in the
doorway. They had either been out looking for the stallion, or they were ready
to go.

Bill
strode past them and threw open the door. “Everybody takes a horse,” he called
over his shoulder. “We’ll split into teams and search this whole plague-ridden
county, if we have to.”

Pat
and Regan, Trixie and Honey hurried after Bill. In the stable, they quickly
bridled and saddled their horses. Before they were finished, Charlene had
joined them, dressed in jeans and riding boots. From the way she slung the
blanket and saddle on the horse, Trixie realized that her role around the
horses wasn’t as a spectator.

They
quickly divided into teams—Bill and Charlene, Pat and Honey, Trixie and Regan.
At least Honey gets to be alone with Pat,
Trixie thought—then felt ashamed of
herself
for
thinking it.

Trixie
already knew that there was no point in trying to track the horse through the
ranch yard. Bill and Pat quickly ruled out the forest side of the ranch; the
deerflies would soon drive the horse out if he ventured in. Nor did Bill think
Al-
Adeen
would try to ford the river.

“Beyond
that,” Bill said, “it’s anybody’s guess. We’ll ride along the river behind
Burke Landing. The rest of you go to the blacktop and head in opposite
directions.” He kicked his horse into a canter and rode off, with Charlene at
his side.

Regan
took the same path along which Pat had led Honey and Trixie the day of the
trail ride. They rode as fast as they could while still being able to scan the
land around them for a sign of the stallion.

Trixie’s
mouth felt dry and coated. She felt the rumblings of hunger in her stomach. She
pushed those feelings aside and forced herself to ride on beside Regan. In her
mind, she kept hearing Charlene Murrow’s words, that first day back at the
corral: “I actually have nightmares about something happening to that horse.”

Trixie
shook the words out of her head. She wanted no distractions, nothing that would
keep her from spotting Al-
Adeen
, or a sign that he’d
passed this way.

There
was no sign.

The
sun was high in the sky by the time Regan reined in his sweating horse. “I’ve
gone everyplace I know of in these parts,” he told Trixie, a look of defeat on
his face. “It won’t do anybody any good if we get lost, too. We’d better head
back.”

Trixie
nodded. She was beginning to feel light-headed from hunger. Although she wouldn’t
have admitted it, she was grateful for the break.

Back
at the ranch, the horses that Bill and Charlene had taken out that morning were
tethered to a rail of the corral, still saddled and bridled. Trixie and Regan
tied their horses next to the other two and went into the house.

Bill
was sitting at the kitchen table, idly stirring his coffee. Charlene had
started a fresh batch of bacon frying. They both looked up eagerly when Regan
and Trixie walked in. When they saw their guests’ downcast expressions, they
turned away quickly, before their disappointment could show.

“Are
Honey and Pat still out?” Trixie asked.

“Not
that it’s likely to do much good,” was Bill’s way of saying yes to the
question.

Charlene
was serving breakfast when Honey and Pat finally came in. They both looked
pale, exhausted, and depressed. Charlene immediately began clucking over them
like a mother hen, giving each a cup of steaming coffee laced with milk and
putting that morning’s third batch of bacon on to fry.

“No
luck?” The way Bill asked, it was more of a statement than a question.

Pat
shook his head. “I would have given up a long time ago, but Honey wanted to
keep going.” There was a note of admiration in his voice.

“I
just wanted to make sure we’d covered everything,” Honey said.

“You
did all you could,” Pat told her.

That’s the warmest look I’ve ever seen him give
anything on two legs,
Trixie thought.

Honey
smiled back at Pat.

“After
breakfast, we’ll drive around and alert the
neighbors
,”
Bill said to Pat. “Maybe the horse will turn up in a nearby feedlot when he
gets tired of foraging for himself. That’s about all we can do.”

“Was
Al-
Adeen
insured?” Trixie asked timidly.

Bill
shrugged. “He’s insured for what he cost, not for what he’s worth. There’s only
Pat’s and my word for that, anyway. Insurance companies are pretty wary of
inflated claims from down-and-out horse ranchers.”

“We’re
not down and out!” Pat protested. “We’re down,” Bill said firmly. “We’re not
quite out—not if Al-
Adeen
shows up in the next couple
of days. After that— Well, Fair-haven is going to be a ghost ranch, one way or
the other.” He rose to his feet slowly, as though he’d suddenly grown old. “Gus
should be here by now. I’d better go tell him what happened. Then we can start
making the rounds of the
neighbors
.”

“Gus!”
Trixie almost shouted the name,
then
turned beet red
as everyone stared. “I forgot he didn’t know, yet, about what happened,” she
said lamely.

That
explanation seemed to satisfy everyone except Honey, who continued to stare at
her friend. That was exactly the way Trixie wanted it. She motioned toward
their bedroom. Honey quickly excused herself, saying she wanted to lie down for
a few minutes, and Trixie followed her to their room.

“What’s
up, Trixie Belden?” Honey asked. “I know that look of yours.”

Trixie
plopped herself down on the bed, then immediately sprang up and began pacing as
best she could in the tiny room. “The ret-
rocognition
was a setup, Honey. I figured it out last night in a dream. Oh, I know what
you’re thinking—” She held up a hand to stop Honey’s protest,
then
snapped her fingers as a new thought occurred to her.
“Hey, I’ll bet I know where Al-
Adeen
is, too.
Listen!”

Briefly
she described her dream, the conclusion she’d drawn from
it,
and her theory on the disappearance of Al-
Adeen
.

“It
makes perfect sense,” Honey said. “But what do we do about it?”

“Confront!”
Trixie said
,
her eyes narrowed with determination.

“Shouldn’t
we tell Bill and Charlene first?”

“About the
retrocognition
?
About sneaking out at night to meet Wilhelmina James? Maybe you could pull that
off and not be shipped home on the next bus, then grounded for a month once you
got home. I know
I
couldn’t.”

“You’re
right,” Honey admitted. “We’ll have to handle it ourselves. I hope like
anything you’re right about the
retrocognition
, but I
sort of hope you’re wrong about Al-
Adeen
.”

“I
know what you mean,” Trixie said. “But remember, the important thing is to get
the horse back,
fast
.
”

Without
further discussion, the girls left their room. On their way through the
kitchen, they were stopped by Charlene. “Are you up already?” she asked. “Don’t
you think you should get a little more rest? That was
such
a hard morning.”

“I
thought a nice slow walk might do me good,” Honey said. “I don’t want my
muscles to tighten up, or I’ll never walk again!” She managed a wan smile.

“Well,
just don’t overdo it,” Charlene warned.

The
girls found Gus alone in the stable, rubbing down one of the horses that had
been ridden that morning.
Regan must
have gone with Pat and Bill. At least our luck is holding so far,
Trixie thought.

“Hi,
Gus,” she said, trying to sound casual.

“Hello,”
Gus replied. He tried to grin, but he didn’t manage.

“It’s
pretty awful about Al-
Adeen
, isn’t it?” Trixie asked.
“I was wondering if the Galloping Ghost stole the horse. It would be right in
character, wouldn’t it?”

“Old
Gunnar never stole any horses,” Gus mumbled, still currying the horse.

“That’s
true,” Trixie said. “I guess you’d know better than anyone what the ghost would
and wouldn’t do, huh, Gus. I mean, you
are
the ghost, right?”

Gus
straightened up with difficulty, one hand supporting his back. “How did you
find out?” he asked.

“I
dreamed it,” Trixie told him. “When we were at the cabin, we thought the ghost
must have just left because the coffee and beans were still hot. But when I
dreamed about it last night, I realized the stove was stone-cold when I bumped
into it. Hot food and a cold stove don’t make sense—even for a ghost. That
meant the whole thing was phony. And
that
meant you were the ghost, because you were the only one who knew that we knew
about the cabin.”

Gus
stubbed at the straw with the toe of his boot. “I never thought you’d look all
around the cabin. I thought you’d just get scared and go running home to tell
everybody about the ghost.”

“You
must have thought that about the other pranks you played,” Trixie said,
figuring Gus had something to do with them, too.

“Well,
wasn’t that why I did them?” Gus asked. “After that day when I told you how
Mrs. Murrow doesn’t like to talk about the ghost, I thought, ‘
You
betcha
! She’s probably right.
Nobody would want anything to do with the ranch if they thought it was haunted!
That Burke fellow would go away for sure.’ So I haunted us.”

“Hiding
the brushes and combs must have been easy for you to do,” Trixie said. “But how
did you rig the other tricks?”

“Making
the picture fall was easy, too,” Gus said. “When I went to wash up, I just
ducked into the living room for a second. I pulled the picture hook out so it
was barely hanging in the wall. Any little rattle in that old house would knock
the picture down.”

Trixie
nodded. “And nobody even thought about how you’d walked through the house
minutes before. After that, the haunting got harder, right?”

“Not
much,” Gus said. “For that gust of wind, I sneaked up under your window with an
old blacksmith’s bellows.
Whoosh!”
He pantomimed the
bellows’ motion. “Then I used a tape-recording machine to get the galloping
noise. I’d made the tape over at my place— just turned on the machine and rode
past it.” Seeing the girls’ astonished looks, he unexpectedly grinned. “I don’t
like cars, but I ain’t old-fashioned.”

In
spite of herself, Trixie grinned back at him. “You must have gotten pretty
frustrated when we still didn’t start blabbing to everyone about hearing
ghosts.”

“You
girls are tough, I’ll give you that,” Gus said.