The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost

and the first
page of Trixie’s letter went sailing across the room.
    “There
must be a storm coming up!” Trixie said, hurrying to close the window. She
froze with her hands on the frame. There wasn’t a sign of a cloud in the
evening sky. Nor was there any trace of a breeze. “Honey, look!” she said.
    Her
friend joined her at the window. “I don’t see anything,” she said.
    “That’s
just it,” Trixie told her. “Those aspen leaves aren’t even quaking. So where
did that big gust of wind come from?”
    Honey
shrugged. “I guess it was just one of those freakish things,” she said.
    “There
have been a lot of freakish things around here today,” Trixie said.
    Honey
sat down on her bed and capped her pen. “There sure have. Trixie, do you think
this is all part of a phenomenon?”
    “What
I think,” Trixie said, “is that it would be worth paying another visit to
Wilhelmina James tomorrow, to find out what she thinks.”
     
    The
next day brought no mysterious occurrences, only a visit from Jon Burke. This
time, Charlene, Bill, and Pat all clustered around his pickup truck and talked
for a while. Some agreement must have been reached, Trixie realized, because
Burke was smiling when he left. She noticed, however, that when Burke held out
his hand, all of the Murrows pretended not to see it.
    That
night at supper, Bill said, “Well, Miss Wheeler, by the time you leave, I may
have good news for you to take to your father.”
    “What’s
that?” Honey asked.
    “He’d
asked me if I could board and train some horses for him. I said no, because I
didn’t have room. But it may be that we’ll be moving to larger quarters.”
    Trixie
couldn’t help but look at Pat. His face was expressionless. He’s doing his best to go along with this, Trixie thought.
    “Nothing’s
for sure yet,” Bill added. “It all depends on what kind of offer we get from
our neighbor to the south. We aren’t about to be run
off our land, but we aren’t going to turn down a good opportunity, either.”
    “Daddy
would be delighted if you could work with some of his horses,” Honey said
tactfully.
    “Does
your dad have Arabians?” Pat asked.
    “He
owns mostly Thoroughbreds,” Honey replied.
    “Well,
Thoroughbreds have a lot of Arab blood in them. The temperaments are similar
enough that we should be able to work with them,” Pat said confidently.
    “Oh,
I know you could,” Honey said eagerly. “Of course, after what I’ve seen the
past few days, I might just try to talk him into buying some Arabians.” She
smiled at Pat and, astonishingly, he smiled back.
    He’s making all kinds of changes, Trixie thought. This one is
definitely for the best!
    That
afternoon, Pat proved that the change was not a fleeting one. He spoke often to
Trixie, and even more often to Honey. Pat’s friendliness drove all thought of
mysteries from Honey’s mind, and Trixie was content to let her friend enjoy the
attention she’d been hoping for.
    Honey
felt happy about Pat, and Trixie quickly caught the spirit. Instead of falling
asleep at dusk, as the girls had been doing, they sat up talking in their room.
They reviewed the happenings of their vacation, deciding which ones would most
interest Brian, Mart, and Jim, and which ones Bobby would enjoy.
    For
Honey, the most exciting stories had Pat Murrow as their star. “You know what I
think?” she said, out of the blue.
    “What’s
that?” Trixie asked.
    “I
think this whole incident made Pat realize that he was just too wrapped up in
this ranch. The mere thought that a sale might come between him and his father
made him wake up. I think he knows he has to start paying some attention to the
people in his life.” Honey’s voice was soft and dreamy.
    For
the first time, Trixie realized that it had gradually grown dark in the room.
Quietly, to keep from breaking Honey’s reverie, she got up and crossed the room
to turn on a lamp. A noise outside the bedroom window made her freeze with her
hand on the switch.
    “ Hoofbeats !” Trixie said in
alarm. She raced to the window to look.
    No
one was there.
    “Who’s
riding around at this time of night?” Honey asked.
    Trixie
turned from the window and sat down at the foot of Honey’s bed, weak-kneed. “I
heard galloping hooves and they were close by. But there wasn’t a thing in
sight. Honey, it must have been—” She stopped, reluctant to put her suspicion
into words.
    “The
Galloping Ghost,” Honey breathed. She shivered