The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost

with a good night’s sleep.
    For
the rest of the night Trixie dozed on and off, fearful that a deep sleep would
make her forget her discovery. Each time she woke she felt a moment of panic,
then a wave of relief when her secret came back to her, as logical as ever.
    Toward
dawn, Trixie fell into her deepest sleep of the night—one from which she was
awakened by shouting. She sat up, blinked in the early morning light, and tried
to make sense of what she’d heard. In the other bed, Honey seemed to be doing
the same.
    Most
of the shouting was coming from Pat Murrow. Trixie could hear only the loudest
words in each sentence : . . he was gone.... of course, it was locked.... kicked it right down.... one powerful
stallion.”
    “Oh, no!” Trixie exclaimed , jumping
out of bed and pulling open the dresser drawer with one motion. “Al- Adeen must have broken loose!”
    The
girls dressed as fast as they could. Charging into the hallway, they almost
collided with Bill Murrow, who was rolling up his shirt sleeve as he came out
of the bedroom. Out in the kitchen, the bacon was just beginning to sizzle in
the pan. Charlene stood frozen, still in her robe, holding the spatula. Pat and
Regan, fully dressed right down to hats and gloves, were standing in the
doorway. They had either been out looking for the stallion, or they were ready
to go.
    Bill
strode past them and threw open the door. “Everybody takes a horse,” he called
over his shoulder. “We’ll split into teams and search this whole plague-ridden
county, if we have to.”
    Pat
and Regan, Trixie and Honey hurried after Bill. In the stable, they quickly
bridled and saddled their horses. Before they were finished, Charlene had
joined them, dressed in jeans and riding boots. From the way she slung the
blanket and saddle on the horse, Trixie realized that her role around the
horses wasn’t as a spectator.
    They
quickly divided into teams—Bill and Charlene, Pat and Honey, Trixie and Regan. At least Honey gets to be alone with Pat, Trixie thought—then felt ashamed of herself for
thinking it.
    Trixie
already knew that there was no point in trying to track the horse through the
ranch yard. Bill and Pat quickly ruled out the forest side of the ranch; the
deerflies would soon drive the horse out if he ventured in. Nor did Bill think
Al- Adeen would try to ford the river.
    “Beyond
that,” Bill said, “it’s anybody’s guess. We’ll ride along the river behind
Burke Landing. The rest of you go to the blacktop and head in opposite
directions.” He kicked his horse into a canter and rode off, with Charlene at
his side.
    Regan
took the same path along which Pat had led Honey and Trixie the day of the
trail ride. They rode as fast as they could while still being able to scan the
land around them for a sign of the stallion.
    Trixie’s
mouth felt dry and coated. She felt the rumblings of hunger in her stomach. She
pushed those feelings aside and forced herself to ride on beside Regan. In her
mind, she kept hearing Charlene Murrow’s words, that first day back at the
corral: “I actually have nightmares about something happening to that horse.”
    Trixie
shook the words out of her head. She wanted no distractions, nothing that would
keep her from spotting Al- Adeen , or a sign that he’d
passed this way.
    There
was no sign.
    The
sun was high in the sky by the time Regan reined in his sweating horse. “I’ve
gone everyplace I know of in these parts,” he told Trixie, a look of defeat on
his face. “It won’t do anybody any good if we get lost, too. We’d better head
back.”
    Trixie
nodded. She was beginning to feel light-headed from hunger. Although she wouldn’t
have admitted it, she was grateful for the break.
    Back
at the ranch, the horses that Bill and Charlene had taken out that morning were
tethered to a rail of the corral, still saddled and bridled. Trixie and Regan
tied their horses next to the other two and went into the house.
    Bill
was sitting at the kitchen table, idly stirring his coffee. Charlene had
started a fresh batch of bacon frying. They both looked up eagerly when Regan
and Trixie walked in. When they saw their guests’ downcast expressions, they
turned away quickly, before their disappointment could show.
    “Are
Honey and Pat still out?” Trixie asked.
    “Not
that it’s likely to do much good,” was Bill’s way of saying yes to the
question.
    Charlene
was serving breakfast when Honey and Pat finally came in. They both