The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost

eyes, those
sensitive hands...”
    “I
didn’t say he isn’t cute,” Trixie corrected her. “He’s just not the cutest boy
I’ve ever seen. I hadn’t noticed his hands, though,” she added with a smile.
“I’ll have to take a closer look.”
    “Don’t
you dare! ” Honey said, grinning back at Trixie.
Sharing her feelings seemed to have restored her emotional balance. The ringing
of the lunch bell eliminated further discussion.
    The
arrival of everyone from outside caused a traffic jam in the kitchen. Pat and
his father washed up at the kitchen sink, while Charlene dodged around them
carrying food to the table. Trixie, Honey, Regan, and Gus took turns going down
the hall to wash up at the bathroom sink. The three who were left waiting
huddled close to the door, trying to stay out of everyone’s way.
    “Charlene
saved her egg money for two years to buy that dining room suite out there,”
Bill said, holding his hands over his head as he dried them in an exaggerated
attempt to stay out of his wife’s way. “That doesn’t mean we have to use it,
though. Oh, no—we’ll just invite the whole county into the kitchen. It’s so cozy .”
    “It is cozy ,” Honey said.
    Bill
rolled his eyes as he tossed the towel over the rack and sat down. “Women!” he
muttered.
    Honey’s
attention was once again focused on Pat Murrow. But Trixie thought that the old
hired hand was far more interesting. She found, though, that most of the
questions she asked him were answered by Bill Murrow.
    Gus
lived alone in a cabin that was within riding distance of the ranch. Each
morning he arrived for work on his old bay gelding, ate lunch with the family,
and left late in the afternoon. He’d kept up that routine since
    Bill
was a boy and his father owned the ranch.
    “Don’t
know why he hangs around,” Bill said gruffly. “The work is hard, the pay is
lousy, and the benefits are nonexistent.”
    “ Ja ,” Gus said amiably, nodding in agreement with everything
Bill had said. Gus had a slight Norwegian accent. “But the food is just so
good.” He shoveled another forkful of beef pie into
his mouth as if to demonstrate his pleasure.
    Charlene
gave a little smile. “Good or not, it’s the only food you get that isn’t out of
a can. And when I say ‘out of a can,’ ” she added, looking at the girls, “I
mean directly out of a can. He heats it, eats it, and puts what’s left
over back in the refrigerator.”
    “All
that ever needs washing is my fork,” Gus said proudly.
    Honey
looked slightly shocked, but Trixie said, “That sounds like a good method to
me. If I ever move away from home and my mom’s good cooking, that’s probably
how I’ll do it.” Everyone smiled but Gus, who seemed to take Trixie’s remark
seriously. “ Ja ,” he said, nodding sagely. “Just try
to find a good cook to work for, though.” Then he looked around him, confused,
as everyone started to laugh.
    The
afternoon went by quickly, with more demonstration of the Murrows ’
winning techniques with horses—and no mention of Jon Burke. The girls barely
had time for more exploring of their surroundings, but they did discover that
the trees at the back of the property ran along a river. One side of the ranch
was bordered by trees and marked with small signs that said State Forest . The other side was prairie as
far as the eye could see, except for one dead oak that stretched its broken
branches against the sky.
    Dinner
that evening was a cookout, with Bill Murrow donning a bright-red barbecue
apron and tending a selection of thick, juicy steaks. After everyone had eaten,
they sat around the picnic table, enjoying the cooling breeze and the long
summer evening, in spite of the mosquitoes.
    “Well,
what do you think of our little operation?” Bill Murrow asked no one in
particular.
    “I
think it’s just wonderful,” Honey told him sincerely.
    “If
she gets any more impressed with, uh, things around here, she might
never leave,” Trixie said, unable to resist the chance to tease.
    Honey
shot her a good-natured look that said she could tease, too. “On the other
hand,” said Honey, “Trixie might leave Minnesota pretty quickly if she keeps seeing ghosts.”
    “Ghosts?” Bill echoed. “Why, Miss Belden, you don’t look as
though you’d seen a ghost.”
    “I
didn’t, really,” Trixie said hastily. “It was just Gus—at least, I’m pretty
sure it was. But last night, at dusk, he looked kind of spooky, like a