The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost

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.
    As
the three young people came cantering into the ranch yard, they saw Regan and
Bill Murrow working with the young filly, while Gus watched. Pat dismounted and
handed the reins of his horse to the old man. “Would you show the girls where
the tack goes?” he asked as he went to join the two trainers.
    Gus
nodded and grinned at Pat, then turned to grin at the girls. “Was your ride
nice?” he asked.
    “Very
nice,” Honey replied. “You have beautiful country around here.”
    Gus
nodded happily. “You betcha ,” he said.
    “Come
on, then.” He turned and led Pat’s horse into the stable, and the girls
followed. Once inside, he took care of Al- Adeen and
gave Trixie and Honey the grooming tools they needed from a cabinet in the tack
room.
    “Have
you always worked with horses?” Honey asked politely.
    “Oh, ja ,” Gus said. “My pa, he
farmed with horses. Never owned a tractor, though. I
would have been a farmer, too, but the Depression came and we lost the farm.
Then young Bill’s pa, he gave me work. I’ve been here ever since.”
    “I
think I saw you riding your horse the night we arrived,” Trixie said.
    “Could
be, could be,” Gus acknowledged. “I like a ride after supper. It settles my
stomach.”
    “It
gave me quite a turn,” Trixie said. “Back home, we don’t see many people riding
around on horses at nightfall.”
    “You
were scared,