The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost, page 1
part #39 of Trixie Belden Series
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.
Contents
1 * The Twilight Rider
2 * An Explanation— and a Confrontation
3 * Discovery at Dusk
4 * A Trail Ride
5 * The Legend Is Recounted
6 * Mysterious Happenings
7 * The Deal Is Off!
8 * Wilhelmina Investigates
9 * A Frantic Search
10 * Confession—and Denial
11 * Caught!
12 * A Lifeline
13 * Was It—or Wasn’t It?
1 * 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
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.
Trixie turned to Honey and discovered that her usually poised friend was blushing! The incident was pushed aside, however, as Mrs. Murrow assigned everyone to a place at the table and began serving heaping platters of food.
None of the young people talked much during dinner. They didn’t have to, since Regan and the Murrows kept up a running discussion of horses—their selection, breeding, training, and showing. Trixie listened to the conversation, but she also kept an eye on Honey and Pat. Her friend was pretending to listen intently, but Trixie saw her sneaking frequent looks at the Murrows’ son. Pat seemed to concentrate only on his plate.
After dinner, the men went out onto the porch. Trixie and Honey helped Mrs. Murrow do the dishes and clean the kitchen; then they, too, went outside.
“Why, it’s still broad daylight!” Trixie exclaimed. “But it must be 8 o’clock by now!”
“It’s 8:20,” Bill Murrow corrected after looking at his watch. “We get long summer days in this part of the country because we’re so far north. It won’t be fully dark until 10 o’clock.”
“But come December, it will be dark from 5 p.m. to 7 a.m.,” Charlene said.
“At least the December cold kills the mosquitoes,” Bill said, swatting one that had slipped through the screen. “No deerflies to bite the horses, either. Why, it’s a paradise— if you like twenty below!”
Soon Pat excused himself and went to his room. Regan joined him.
Trixie suddenly realized that she was exhausted. “It seems strange to go to bed while it’s still light out, but that’s what I’ll have to do.”
“You’ve had a long, exciting day,” Mrs. Murrow said sympathetically. “You’ll have two weeks of long evenings to enjoy.”
The girls agreed and went to their room.
A few minutes later, Trixie was pulling on her nightgown. “We didn’t even get to see the horses,” she said with a yawn.
“Plenty of time for that tomorrow,” Honey told her as she crawled into bed.
Trixie pulled up the covers and sat for a moment, her back against the headboard, thinking over the day's events. Something drew her eye to the window, which was almost even with the foot of the bed. Trixie looked and saw nothing at first. Continuing to stare, she caught a glint of light bouncing off the sash.
Quickly, she tossed back the covers, got up, and went to the window. There was still plenty of light, but it had a soft, flat quality to it. Trixie looked out over the broad expanse of grass that was too big to be called a lawn. It ended with a dense row of trees that ran as far as she could see in either direction. The trees look like colored shadows in this light, Trixie thought. It’s spooky.
Again, something caught her eye. This time it was a flash of movement. She squinted, trying to adjust her eyes to the eerie light. Finally, she made out the figure of a horse and rider moving slowly and silently in a path parallel to the trees.
The rider was wearing a straw hat, and his head was down, almost lolling on his chest. The horse had his head down, too, his neck bobbing with each slow step he took. Together the horse and rider had a mournful aspect, Trixie thought.
