The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost

eh?”
    “Almost,”
Trixie agreed.
    “That
ghost story bothers her. She worries what people will think. Rich people, you
know, who can buy expensive horses. What if they knew their horses came from a
haunted ranch? Now, Bill, he doesn’t care. He’ll say about anything to about
anybody, and just let the horses speak for themselves. Not Mrs. Murrow, though. No, sir. You don’t want to talk about the ghost around
her.”
    “That’s
what we found out,” Honey said ruefully.
    “We
didn’t know why then, but we do now. Thanks.” Trixie put the comb and brush
back in the tack room and left the stable, with Honey right behind her.
    “Isn’t
that a fascinating story?” Honey asked.
    Trixie
nodded emphatically. “I can hardly wait to tell Wilhelmina James,” she said.
    “You’ll have to wait. She won’t
take up her post for several hours yet.”
    “You’re
right. And then we’ll have to think up a good excuse for going off on our own,
so we don’t give away her hideout. Put on your thinking cap!”
     
    It
was Honey who thought of the excuse, and she stated it at dinner that night.
“Trixie and I still haven’t seen the river at the back edge of the property. We
thought we’d stroll down there after we help with the dishes.”
    Her
tone was just right, Trixie thought— casual, but not too casual. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten about Mrs. Murrow’s
mothering instincts.
    “That
river is treacherous,” the woman said. “The way it winds, you can suddenly go
right over the edge. And there are strong undertows, and of course since the river’s spring-fed it never gets very warm, and this time of
year it would just take your breath away to fall in.”
    After
the long speech had taken Charlene’s breath away, Bill asked, “You girls have
any rivers out your way?”
    Honey
nodded, and Trixie said, “The Hudson River flows right through our hometown.
That’s why it’s called Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson.”
    “Do
your parents go through this whole song and dance every time you want to go to
the Hudson River ?” Bill asked.
    The
girls exchanged a look, struggling to suppress their smiles.
    “There
you go, Charlene,” Bill said. “They’re too smart to answer that question. That
means they’re plenty smart enough to take a stroll along the river without
falling in and drowning.”
    “Go
right away, then,” Charlene said. “And be back before dark.”
    “Yes,
ma’am,” Trixie said. “Thank you.” As she said the words, she sneaked a look at
Bill, who sneaked a wink back at her.
    As
they had the night before, the girls cut across the open land well downriver
from Wilhelmina’s hideout. Since it was still light out, they couldn’t just
follow the tree line. Instead, they had to make their way through the fringe of
trees and underbrush to the riverbank, and follow it upstream to the hideout.
    The
river was high and fast, still swollen from spring’s rains and melted snows.
Trixie fixed her attention on a single leftover autumn leaf, and watched as it
quickly floated past her and disappeared. The girls discovered that there were
patches of slippery mud along the bank. “Watch your step!” Trixie said. “It
would be hard to explain to Mrs. Murrow if we came home with ankle-deep mud
from our ‘stroll’ along the river.”
    “It
would be even harder to explain if we came home drowned,” Honey said wryly. She
grabbed a tree branch for support and stepped gingerly across a spot where the
bank had eroded away completely.
    Trixie
was glad they’d gotten an early start. Now she could keep her promise to be
home before dark. “Gee, I hope Wilhelmina is already there,” she said.
    The
strange woman was, indeed, in her little camp when the girls found her. Today,
with the benefit of more light, Trixie could see that Wilhelmina had provided
herself with a few comforts. There was a waterproofed tarp on the ground, with
a red plaid blanket spread on top of it. There were a Thermos and cup, a brown
bag that probably contained a snack, and a small portable radio. Nearby lay an
orange totebag that still had some
interesting-looking bulges in it.
    The
lingering daylight also let Trixie and Honey get a better look at Wilhelmina
herself. Trixie hadn’t known, for example, that there were small rhinestones in
the frames of the huge glasses the woman wore. Nor had she seen the permanent
wrinkles down the sides of the woman’s nose, created by the constant effort to
keep the glasses in