The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost

business. You know,” she said, lowering her voice to keep
from being overheard, “sometimes I actually have nightmares about something
happening to that horse!”
    “Nothing
will happen,” Honey said firmly. “You’ve worked long and hard, and now you’re
entitled to some good luck.”
    But
Mrs. Murrow’s worried look only deepened. Without saying another word, she
turned and walked quickly back to the house.
    Confused,
Trixie looked toward Honey and saw the real cause of Mrs. Murrow’s abrupt
departure: a shiny red pickup truck with oversized tires and fancy wheel covers
had just pulled into the driveway.
    Honey
followed Trixie’s gaze, and both girls watched as the truck’s door opened and the
driver stepped out. The man was wearing an outfit that went perfectly with his
truck—cowboy boots, stiff-looking jeans, a red shirt with pearl buttons, bolo
tie, and a black felt cowboy hat with a feathered hatband. He stood for a
moment as if waiting for everyone to admire him, then began walking toward the
corral.
    Pat
Murrow dismounted from the filly and led her off into the barn without saying a
word. His departure seemed a little less abrupt than his mother’s, but Trixie
had a feeling it was just as pointed. Bill Murrow stayed behind, leaning
casually against the rail of the corral.
    “Hello,
Bill,” the man called cheerfully, proving that he was not a stranger, after
all.
    “Mornin’,
Burke.”
    “How’s
it going?”
    “It’s goin ’.” It was an unusually brief answer for the
usually talkative man.
    Burke
reached the corral and put one shiny boot on the bottom rail while leaning his
forearms on the top one. Bill remained with his back to the corral, so that the
two men were standing side by side but facing opposite directions.
    “Have
you given any more thought to our talk?” Burke asked.
    “Oh,
now, you know I don’t think much,” Bill said. “It makes my head tired, and I
have a feeling it probably causes baldness.”
    Bill’s
words were his usual teasing nonsense, but from the tone of his voice and the
look on his face, Trixie had no desire to laugh.
    Jon
Burke, a young man with a smooth face, looked flustered. “Well, I think it’s
worth thinking about,” he said.
    “Oh,
no doubt, no doubt,” Bill replied. “But if I start thinkin ’
about one thing it’ll lead to another, and before you know it I’ll be thinkin ’ all the time. Probably be bald as an onion and
running for Congress, eventually. So you see , it just
doesn’t do to get started.”
    “Does
that mean your answer is no?” Burke asked.
    “Let’s
just say I’m waitin ’ for a better class of question,”
Bill said. He tipped his hat and walked into the barn.
    Burke
gave Trixie and Honey a contemptuous look, then turned and stalked back to his
truck. He started it with a roar and drove out of the driveway in a cloud of
dust.
    “I
don’t suppose we dare ask anybody for an explanation of what just happened,”
Trixie said.
    “No way!” Honey held up one hand as if to fend off the
possibility.
    “Then
this will have to stay a mystery, too,” Trixie said.
    “ ‘Too’ ? You’re not still counting the horseman you saw last
night as a mystery, are you? It was only Gus.”
    “I
guess so. But he didn’t look quite the same today. Hey, that reminds me, Honey.
We were going to look for tracks!” She hurried off, with Honey close behind.
    Trixie
walked swiftly to the spot where she’d first seen the horseman. “Oh, woe,” she
groaned. “What made me think we could track a horse on a horse ranch? Every
inch of this ground has been churned up by horses’ hooves.”
    “It
certainly has,” Honey agreed. “Let’s just assume the horseman was Gus unless we
have some reason to think otherwise.” Seeing her friend’s wrinkled nose, she
added, “I know it’s less exciting that way, but we’ll have plenty of excitement
in the next two weeks without a mystery to solve.”
    “You
seem to have found plenty of excitement already,” Trixie retorted.
    “I-I
don’t know what you mean,” Honey said, carefully avoiding Trixie’s gaze.
    “Sure
you do,” Trixie told her.
    Honey
let her feelings burst forth with a sigh. “Oh, Trixie, don’t you think Pat
Murrow is just about the cutest boy you’ve ever seen?”
    “No,
I don’t,” Trixie said. “That’s probably just as well, since you obviously do think so.”
    “What?”
Honey sounded shocked. “You don’t think he’s cute? Those beautiful