The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost

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
our exit,” Honey exclaimed after double-checking the directions the Murrows had sent.
    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