Hoofbeats on the Turnpike Part 6

The rider cantered up, then deliberately slowed his horse to a walk.

Louise stole a quick sideways glance. The young man was dark-haired, about twenty-six and very good looking. His flas.h.i.+ng brown eyes were friendly and so was his voice as he spoke a cheery, "'Lo, girls."

"h.e.l.lo," Penny responded briefly. Louise immediately nudged her in the ribs, a silent warning that she considered the stranger "fresh."

Nevertheless, Penny twisted sideways in the saddle the better to look at their road companion. He wore whipcord riding breeches and highly polished boots. From the well-tailored cut of his clothes she decided that he too was a comparative stranger to the hill country.

"Not looking for a horse by any chance, are you?" the young man inquired.

Louise's snub nose came down out of the sky. "Oh, we are!" she cried.

"Where did you see her?"

"A mare with a white foot? Her left hind one?"

"Yes, that's White Foot!" Louise exclaimed joyfully. "The stupid creature wandered off."

"Saw her making for the valley about five minutes ago. Like enough she turned in at Silas Malcom's place."

The name took Penny by surprise. Although she had hoped to find the old man who had visited the _Star_ office, she had not thought it possible without a long search.

"Does Mr. Malcom live near here?" she inquired.

"Yes, his farm's on down the pike. Want me to ride along and show you the way?"

Under the circ.u.mstance, Penny and Louise had no choice but to accept the offer. However, they both thought that the young man merely was making an excuse to accompany them. He seemed to read their minds for he said:

"I didn't actually see your missing horse turn in at the Malcom place.

Know why I think she'll be there?"

"Perhaps you have supernatural powers," Penny said lightly. "From what we hear, this valley is quite a place for witches and Headless Hors.e.m.e.n."

The young man gave her an amused glance.

"The explanation is quite simple," he laughed. "Silas used to own that horse. All horses have a strong homing instinct, you know."

"I've noticed that," Louise contributed a bit grimly.

"Guess I should introduce myself," the young man resumed. "Name's Joe Quigley. I'm the station agent at Delta."

"We're glad to meet you," Penny responded. Though Louise scowled at her, she gave their own names. She added that they had come to the valley seeking information about the mysterious Headless Horseman.

"Friends of Mr. Burmaster?" Quigley inquired casually.

"Oh, no," Penny a.s.sured him. "We just came for the fun of it. Is it true that some prankster has been causing trouble in the valley?"

"Prankster?"

"Yes, someone fixed up to resemble the Headless Horseman of fable."

Quigley grinned broadly. "Well, now, you couldn't prove it by me. Some folks say that on certain foggy nights the old Galloping Hessian does ride down out of the hills. But then there are folks who claim their b.u.t.ter won't churn because it's been bewitched. I never put much stock in such talk myself."

"Then you've never actually seen such a rider?"

Joe Quigley remained silent. After a thoughtful interval he admitted: "Well, one night over a month ago, I did see something strange."

"What was it?" Louise asked quickly.

Quigley pointed far up the hillside. "See that big boulder? Witching Rock it's called."

Penny nodded. "We were there only a few minutes ago."

"At night fog rises up from the valley and gives the place a spooky look.

Years ago a tramp was killed there. No one ever did learn the how or why of it."

"What was it you saw?" Penny inquired.

"Can't rightly say," Quigley returned soberly. "I was on this same turnpike when I chanced to glance up toward that big rock. I saw something there in the mist and then the next minute it was gone."

"Not the Headless Horseman?" Penny asked.

"Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. I'd have thought I imagined it only I heard clattering hoofbeats. But I can tell you one thing about this valley."

"What's that?" asked Louise.

"All the inhabitants are said to be bewitched! That's why I act so crazy myself."

Penny tossed her head. "Oh, you're just laughing at us," she accused. "I suppose it does sound silly to say we came here searching for a Headless Horseman."

"No, it's not in the least silly," Quigley corrected. "I might pay you a compliment by saying you impress me as very courageous young ladies. May I offer a word of advice?"

"Thank you, I don't think we care for it."

"Nevertheless, I aim to give it anyway." Quigley grinned down at Penny.

"You see, I know who you are. You're Anthony Parker's daughter, and you've built up a reputation for solving mysteries."

Penny was astonished for she had not mentioned her father's name.

"Never mind how I knew," said Quigley, forestalling questions. "Here's my tip. No one ever will collect Burmaster's reward offer. So don't waste time and energy trailing a phantom."

"Why do you say the reward never will be collected?"

Quigley would not answer. With a provoking shake of his head, he pointed down the pike to an unpainted cabin and a huge new barn.

"That's the Malcom place," he said. "If I'm not mistaken your missing horse is grazing by the gate. Goodbye and good luck."

With a friendly, half-mocking salute, he wheeled his mount. The next instant horse and rider had crashed through a gap in the roadside brush and were lost to view.