CHAPTER 8 _A RICH MAN'S TROUBLES_
Rain was drumming on the roof when Penny awakened the next morning.Yawning sleepily, she sat up in bed. Beside her, Louise, curled into atight ball, slumbered undisturbed. But not for long. Penny tickled anexposed foot until she opened her eyes.
"Get up, Lou!" she ordered pleasantly. "We've overslept."
"Oh, it's still night," Louise grumbled, trying to snuggle beneath thecovers again.
Penny stripped off all the blankets and pulled her chum from the bed."It's only so dark because it's raining," she explained. "Anyway, I havesomething important to tell you."
As the girls dressed in the cold bedroom, Penny told Louise of thetelephone conversation she had heard the previous night.
"Mrs. Lear was talking to Silas Malcom I'm sure," she concluded. "Andabout us too! She said we'd handle very easily."
Louise's eyes opened a trifle wider. "Then you figure Silas Malcomintended to get us here on purpose!"
"I'm beginning to think so."
"But why?"
"Don't ask me," Penny said with a shrug. "These Valley folk aren't simpleby any means! Unless we watch our step they may take us for a merryride."
"Not with the Headless Horseman, I hope," Louise chuckled. "Why don't wego home this morning and forget the whole silly affair?"
Penny shook her head. "I'm sticking until I find out what's going onhere," she announced. "It might mean a story for Dad's paper!"
"Oh, that's only your excuse," Louise teased. "You know you never couldresist a mystery, and this one certainly has baffling angles."
The girls washed in a basin of cold water and then went downstairs. Mrs.Lear was baking pancakes in the warm kitchen. She flipped one neatly asshe reached with the other hand to remove the coffee pot from the stove.
"Good morning," she chirped. "Did you sleep right last night?"
Penny and Louise agreed that they had and edged close to the stove forwarmth. An old-fashioned clock on the mantel showed that it was onlyeight o'clock. But eight o'clock for Mrs. Lear was a late hour, judgingby the amount of work she had done. A row of glass jars stood on thetable, filled with canned plums and peaches.
"You haven't put up all that fruit this morning?" gasped Louise.
Mrs. Lear admitted that she had. "But that ain't much," she addedmodestly. "Only a bushel and a half. Won't hardly last no time at all."
Mrs. Lear cleared off the kitchen table, set it in a twinkling, andplaced before the girls a huge mound of stacked cakes.
"Now eat hearty," she advised. "I had mine hours ago."
As Penny ate, she sought to draw a little information from the eccentricold woman. Deliberately, she brought up the subject of the Burmasterfamily.
"What is it you want to know?" Mrs. Lear asked, smiling wisely.
"Why is Mrs. Burmaster so disliked in the community?"
"Because she's a scheming, trouble maker if there ever was one!" the oldlady replied promptly. "Mr. Burmaster ain't so bad, only he's pulledaround by the nose by that weepin', whinin' wife of his."
"Mrs. Burmaster seems to think that the valley folk treat her cruelly."
"She should talk about being cruel!" Mrs. Lear's dark eyes flashed. "Youknow what them Burmasters done?"
"Only in a general way."
"Well, they come here, and forced folks to git off the land."
"Didn't Mr. Burmaster pay for what he bought?"
"Oh, it was done legal," Mrs. Lear admitted grudgingly. "You see, most o'this valley was owned by a man in the East. He rented it out in parcels,an' never bothered anyone even if they was behind in their payments."
"Then Mr. Burmaster bought the entire track of land from the Easternowner?" inquired Penny.
"That's right. All except these here four acres where my house sets. Theyain't nothin' in this world that will git me in a mood to sell to thatold skinflint. He's tried every trick in the bag already."
Penny thoughtfully reached for another pancake. As an impartial judge shecould see that there was something to be said on both sides of thequestion. Mr. Burmaster had purchased his land legally, and so could notbe blamed for asking the former renters to move. Yet she sympathized withthe farmers who for so many years had considered the valley their own.
"This house o' mine ain't much to look at," Mrs. Lear commentedreflectively, "but it's been home fer a long time. Ain't nobody going toget me out o' here."
"You own your own land?" inquired Louise.
"That I do," nodded Mrs. Lear proudly. "I got the deed hid under my bedmattress."
"Won't you tell us about Mr. Burmaster's difficulty with the HeadlessHorseman," Penny urged, feeling that the old lady was in a talkativemood.
"What do you want to know?" Mrs. Lear asked cautiously.
"Is there really such a thing or is it just a story?"
"If you girls stay in this valley long enough you'll learn feryourselves," Mrs. Lear chuckled. "I'll warrant you'll see that Horseman."
"And you know who the prankster is!" Penny ventured daringly.
"Maybe I do," Mrs. Lear admitted with a chuckle. "But a ten-mule teamcouldn't pry it out o' me, and neither can you!"
Before Penny could resume the subject, chickens began to squawk andscatter in the barn yard. A large, expensive looking car pulled up nearthe side door. Mrs. Lear peeped out of a window and her jaw set in afirm, hard line.
"That's Mr. Burmaster now," she announced in a stage whisper. "Well, heain't goin' to pressure me. No sir! I'll give him as good as he sends!"
After Mr. Burmaster pounded on the kitchen door, the old lady took hertime before she let him in.
"Good morning," he said brightly.
"Humph! What's good about it?" Mrs. Lear shot back. "It's rainin', ain'tit? And if we git much more o' it this fall, the dam up Huntley way'sgoin' to let go shore as I'm a standin' here."
"Nonsense!" replied the estate owner impatiently. He stepped into thekitchen. Seeing Penny and Louise, he looked rather surprised and a trifleembarrassed.
"Go on and say what you come to say," Mrs. Lear encouraged. "Don't standon no ceremony jus' cause I got city visitors."
Obviously Mr. Burmaster did not like to speak before strangers, but therewas no other way.
"You know why I am here, Mrs. Lear," he began. "I've already made severaloffers for your property--"
"And I've turned 'em all down."
"Yes, but this time I hope you'll listen to reason. Last night my wifehad a near collapse after a boy rode a horse across the bridge by ourhouse. All this stupid talk about Headless Horsemen has inspired thecommunity to do mischief. Now every boy in the Valley is trying pranks."
"Then why not ketch the Horseman and put an end to it?" Mrs. Lear askedimpudently.
"Nothing would please me better. But we've had no success. My wife can'tendure the strain much longer. It's driving her to a frenzy."
"I'm sorry about that," replied Mrs. Lear stonily. "There ain't nothin' Ican do."
"I want you to sell this property," Mr. Burmaster pleaded. "At least thatwill remove one irritation. You see, my wife considers the place aneyesore. She can see your house from our living room window. It ruins anotherwise perfect view of the valley."
"Now ain't that too bad!" Mrs. Lear's tone was sarcastic. "Well, let metell you somethin'. That place o' yorn spoils my view too!"
"I'm afraid I haven't made myself clear," Mr. Burmaster said hastily."It's a matter of my wife's health."
"Your wife ain't no more ailin' than I be," Mrs. Lear retorted. "If shedidn't have my house to bother her it would be somethin' else. I ain'tgoin' to sell and that's all there is to it!"
"You've not heard my offer. I'll give you two thousand dollars for thisplace--cash."
Mrs. Lear looked a trifle stunned.
"At best the place isn't worth five hundred," Mr. Burmaster resumed. "ButI aim to be generous."
"I won't sell," Mrs. Lear said
firmly. "Not at any price. Them's my finalwords."
Mr. Burmaster had kept his voice carefully controlled but the old lady'sdecision angered him.
"You'll regret this!" he said in a harsh tone. "I've been very patientbut I warn you! From now on I shall act in my own interests."
"Have you ever acted in any other?" drawled a voice from behind theestate owner.
Everyone turned quickly. Joe Quigley, the young station agent, stoodframed in the open doorway. Smiling at Burmaster in a grim way, he cameslowly into the kitchen.
Hoofbeats on the Turnpike Page 8