The Mystery of the Uninvited Ghost

asked. Bobby turned abruptly and left the room as a puzzled Trixie stared after him.
    When the Beldens reached the stable, Trixie called, “Where are Honey and Jim?”
    Regan, the red-haired groom, motioned toward the inside of the stables, then went back to stacking baled straw in the wide dirt-floored alleyway. Honey called from the tack room, “Here!”
    Hallie stopped in the doorway. She looked at the concrete-floored tack room with its cabinets and workbenches. Saddles and bridles were racked on two walls, and blankets were neatly folded on a wide shelf. Having greeted Honey and Jim, she took a second slow look around the room. “Anything we use has to be cleaned up and put back where it belongs, right?”
    “Right,” said Trixie as she reached for Susie’s saddle. “Well, what’s wrong with riding bareback?” Hallie demanded. “We wouldn’t have to mess around cleaning tack, and we’d have more time for just plain fun.” Giggling, Honey agreed.
    “Hold it!” Regan called. “I heard that! The Turf Show—”
    “I know, I know, Regan,” Honey called back. “But who needs the exercise? Horses or riders?”
    Regan stamped down the alleyway. “Both!”
    “Just this once, please, Regan?” Honey coaxed. “These kids have been picking raspberries all morning. They could use some fun. So could Jim and I.”
    “All right,” Regan agreed. “I give up. Bareback it is. At least it’ll give the horses a chance to associate with riders.”
    In the happy confusion of bridling the sleek animals, Regan came forward to meet Hallie. Regan was a friend and confidant of long standing, totally in charge of the stable all the time and of young people when they stepped into his domain. Suddenly Trixie realized it was important that Regan like Hallie. Did he?
    Hallie grinned at Regan and said, “Howdy.”
    Regan grinned back, and Trixie relaxed. Hallie had not added “pard” to her “howdy.” She had definitely passed the test.

Ashes From a Bonfire • 7

    WHEN THE RIDERS reached Mr. Maypenny s cottage, Dan greeted them and quickly got Spartan bridled. Hallie had been happy to ride double with Mart on Strawberry, but she willingly changed horses, if not in the middle of a stream, at least in the middle of a path. With her long arms barely touching Dan s waist for balance, Hallie rode easily.
    The group formed a line, with Dan and Hallie ahead of Jim, who was on Jupiter, followed by Trixie on Susie and Honey on Lady. Dan said he had been riding Manor House land all day.
    “Why do you call your home Manor House?” Hallie asked Jim.
    “Because these cloves and kills were first settled by the Dutch,” he began.
    “Cloves and kills?” Hallie repeated.
    “The gullies are cloves, and the streams are kills,” Jim went on. “There are about forty kills in the Catskills. See? That’s part of the name. The Dutch West India Company parceled out land, especially on the east bank of the Hudson. Those parcels were called patroonships, or manors. Our land, for instance, has been cultivated since 1700. Colonial settlers, Indians, Revolutionary patriots, British soldiers, slaves, wild animals, and ghosts have all walked here.”
    “Wow!” Hallie exclaimed. “That makes Idaho a Johnny-come-lately.” Then she added more softly, “Like me.”
    Totally relaxed, Trixie listened to the conversation and enjoyed the ride. Suddenly she shook herself awake. Something was different, but what was it?
    A quick glance told her that nothing about the riders and their mounts had changed. It had to be something in the scene itself. She looked at leaf mold, evergreen needles, old cones, wild shrubbery, and the healthy boles of a variety of trees—fir, spruce, and white pine. With the stirring of a faint breeze came an odor she recognized—damp ashes. Someone had doused a fire recently.
    “Have we had poachers?” she asked.
    No one answered.
    “A trespasser?” Trixie persisted.
    “Not that I know of,” Jim finally replied. He looked at Dan, whose job it was to ride these forest trails. Dan wore the boxed-in expression he had brought from the streets of New York. If Dan knew anything, he was keeping it to himself.
    “We can’t afford a forest fire,” Trixie warned. “Besides the game preserve, there are a lot of homes that would bum if a fire spread. Ours would!”
    “I thought of that!” Dan flared. He made himself calm down, but his dark face remained flushed. “I thought of a lot of things. Don’t worry,