The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels

by Mildred Benson

  For a half hour longer the girls remained at the dam watching the workmen. Presently returning to the Lear cottage they found Mrs. Lear in the warm kitchen, cooking supper.

  “I’m settin’ the victuals on early tonight,” she announced. “We ain’t got any too much time to git to the frolic at Silas’ place.”

  Penny and Louise were not sure that they cared to attend the barn dance. Mrs. Lear, however, was deaf to all excuses. She whisked supper onto the table and the instant dishes were done, said that she would hitch Trinidad to the buggy.

  “It won’t take us long to git there,” she encouraged the girls as they reluctantly followed her to the barn. “Trinidad’s a fast steppin’ critter. Best horse in the county fer that matter.”

  Soon the ancient buggy was rattling at a brisk clip along the winding woodland road. Mrs. Lear allowed Trinidad to slacken pace as they neared the Burmaster estate.

  “Look at that house!” she chortled, waving her buggy whip. “Every light in the place lit up! Know why? Mrs. Burmaster’s afeared o’ her shadder. Come dark and she’s skeared to stick her nose out the door.”

  “You don’t seem to be afraid of anything,” Penny remarked in admiration.

  “Me afeared?” the old lady laughed gleefully. “What’s there to be skeared of?”

  “Well—perhaps a certain Headless Horseman.”

  Mrs. Lear hooted. “If I was to see that critter a-comin’ right now and he had twenty heads, I wouldn’t even bat an eye!”

  Horse and buggy approached the giant tulip tree whose gnarled branches were twisted into fantastic shapes. “See that tree?” Mrs. Lear demanded. “In Revolutionary days a traitor was hanged from that lower limb. Sometimes you kin still hear his spirit sighin’ and moanin’.”

  “You mean the wind whistling through the tree limbs,” Penny supplied.

  “Didn’t sound like wind to me,” Mrs. Lear corrected with a grin. “There’s some that’s afeared to pass under this tree come night—but not me!”

  The buggy rattled on, its top brushing against the overhanging branches of the giant tulip. It had grown very dark and the shadows of the woods had a depressing effect upon the girls. They were glad to see the lights of the Malcom place on the hill and even more pleased to drive into the yard.

  “You gals go right on in,” Mrs. Lear advised, leaping lightly from the buggy. “I’ll look after Trinidad.”

  The barn dance already was in progress. Crossing the yard, the girls could hear gay laughter above the lively squeak of fiddles. Through the open barn door they glimpsed a throng of young people whirling in the intricate steps of a square dance.

  “We’re certain to be wall flowers at a party such as this,” Louise remarked sadly.

  The girls found themselves a quiet corner from which to watch the merrymakers. However, they were not permitted to remain there. At the end of the first dance, Joe Quigley came to ask Penny for a dance. To Louise’s secret joy he brought along a young man who promptly invited her to be his partner.

  “But we don’t know how to square dance,” Penny protested.

  “Won’t take you long to learn,” Joe chuckled, pulling her to her feet.

  The fiddler broke into a lively tune. Silas Malcom, acting as caller, shouted boisterous directions to the dancers: “Balance all, balance eight, swing ’em like a-swingin’ on a gate.”

  Joe Quigley, expert dancer that he was, fairly swept Penny through the intricate formations. Before she hardly was aware of it, the dance was over and Silas called out: “Meet your partner and promenade home.”

  After that the girls did not lack for partners. The night sped on magic wings. Penny danced many times with Joe and ate supper with him. Then, noticing that the party was starting to break up, she looked about for Mrs. Lear. The old lady was nowhere to be seen. Nor could Louise recall having seen her for the past half hour. Somewhat disturbed, they crossed the room to talk to old Silas Malcom.

  “Mrs. Lear went home a good hour ago,” he told them. “She said she had to git some sleep, but you gals was havin’ so much fun she didn’t have the heart to take you away.”

  Penny and Louise could not hide their consternation. With Mrs. Lear gone they would have no way of getting back to the cottage.

  “Don’t you worry none,” Old Silas chuckled. “Joe Quigley will take you home. An’ if he don’t there’s plenty o’ young bucks waitin’ fer the chanst.”

  The arrangement was not in the least to the girls’liking. The party, they could see, rapidly was breaking up. Joe Quigley seemed to have disappeared. Nearly all of the girls except themselves were supplied with escorts.

  “I don’t like this—not by a little bit!” Penny muttered. “Let’s get out of here, Lou.”

  “How will we get back to Mrs. Lear’s place?”

  “Walk.”

  “Without an escort?”

  “It’s not far.”

  “We’ll have to pass the Burmaster place and that horrid tulip tree.”

  “Who’s afraid of a tulip tree?” Penny laughed. “Come on, if we don’t get away quickly Old Silas will ask some young man to take us home. That would be humiliating.”

  Louise reluctantly followed her chum. The girls obtained their wraps and without attracting attention, slipped out a side door.

  “Why do you suppose Mrs. Lear slipped off without saying a word?” Louise complained as she and Penny walked rapidly along the dark, muddy road. “Our shoes will be ruined!”

  “So is my ego!” Penny added irritably. “Joe Quigley certainly let us down too. He was attentive enough until after supper. Then he simply vanished.”

  The night was very dark for driving clouds had blotted out the stars. Overhanging trees cast a cavernous gloom upon the twisting hillside road. Louise caught herself shivering. Sternly she told herself that it came from the cold air rather than nervousness.

  Presently the girls approached the Burmaster estate. No lights were burning, but the rambling building loomed up white and ghost-like through the trees.

  “I’ll breathe natural when we’re across the bridge,”Penny admitted with a laugh. “If Mr. Burmaster keeps a guard hidden in the bushes, the fellow might heave a rock at us on general principles.”

  There was no sign of anyone near the estate. Yet both Penny and Louise sensed that they were being watched. The unpleasant sensation of uneasiness increased as they drew nearer the foot bridge.

  “Penny, I’m scared,” Louise suddenly admitted.

  “Of what?” Penny asked with forced cheerfulness.

  “It’s too quiet.”

  The half-whispered words died on Louise’s lips. Unexpectedly, the stillness of the night was broken by the clatter of hoofbeats.

  Startled, the girls whirled around. A horse with a rider had plunged through the dense bushes only a short distance behind them. At a hard run he came straight toward the foot bridge.

  “The ghost rider!” Louise whispered in terror.

  She and Penny stood frozen in their tracks. Plainly they could see the white-robed figure. His lumpy, misshapen hulk, seemed rigidly fastened to the horse. Where his head should have been there was only a stub.

  CHAPTER 11

  THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN

  Swift as the wind, the headless horseman approached the narrow bridge. Penny seized Louise’s hand, jerking her off the road. The ghost rider thundered past them onto the bridge planks which resounded beneath the steel-shod hoofs.

  “Jeepers creepers!” Penny whispered. “That’s no boy prankster this time! It’s the real thing!”

  The thunder of hoofbeats had not gone unheard by those within the walls of Sleepy Hollow. Lights flashed on in the house. Two men with lanterns came running from the mill shack.

  “Get him! Get him!” screamed a woman’s voice from an upstairs window of the house.

  The clamor did not seem to disturb the goblin rider. At unchanged pace he clattered across the bridge to its far side. As the two men ran toward him, he suddenly swerved, pl
unging his horse across a ditch and up a steep bank. There he drew rein for an instant. Rising in his stirrups, he hurled a small, hard object at the two guards. It missed them by inches and fell with a thud on the bridge. Then with a laugh that resembled no earthly sound, the Headless Horseman rode through a gap in the bushes and was gone.

  Louise and Penny ran to the bridge. Half way across they found the object that had been hurled. It was a small, round stone to which had been fastened a piece of paper.

  Penny picked up the missile. Before she could examine it, Mr. Burmaster came running from the house. He had not taken time to dress, but had thrown a bathrobe over his pajamas.

  “You let that fellow get away again!” he shouted angrily to the two workmen. “Can’t you ever stay on the job?”

  “See here, Mr. Burmaster,” one of the men replied. “We work eight hours a day and then do guard duty at night. You can’t expect us to stay awake twenty-four hours a day!”

  “All right, all right,” Mr. Burmaster retorted irritably. Turning toward the bridge he saw Louise and Penny. “Well, so you’re here again?” he observed, though not in an unfriendly tone.

  Penny explained that she and Louise had attended the barn dance and were on their way to the Lear cabin.

  “What’s that you have in your hand?” he interrupted.

  “A stone that the Headless Horseman threw at your workmen. There’s a paper tied to it.”

  “Let’s have it,” Mr. Burmaster commanded.

  Penny handed over the stone though she would have preferred to have examined it herself. Mr. Burmaster cut the string which kept the paper in place. He held it beneath one of the lanterns.

  Large capital letters cut from newspaper headlines had been pasted in an uneven row across the page. The words spelled a message which read:

  “KICK IN HANDSOMELY ON THE HUNTLEY DAM FUND. IF YOU OBLIGE, THE GALLOPING GHOST WILL BOTHER YOU NO MORE.”

  Mr. Burmaster read the message aloud and crumpling the paper, stuffed it into the pocket of his robe.

  “There, you see!” he cried angrily. “It’s all a plot to force me to put up money for the Huntley Dam!”

  “Who do you think the prankster is?” Penny asked.

  “How should I know!” Mr. Burmaster stormed. “The townspeople of Delta may be behind the scheme. Or those hill rats like Silas Malcom! Then it could be Old Lady Lear.”

  “Can she ride a horse?” Louise interposed.

  “Can that old witch ride?” Mr. Burmaster snorted. “She was born in a saddle. Has one of the best horses in the valley too. A jumper.”

  Penny and Louise thought of Trinidad with new respect. Not without misgiving they recalled that Mrs. Lear had slipped away from the barn dance ahead of them. Wisely they kept the knowledge to themselves.

  “I’ll give a thousand dollars for the capture of that rascal!” Mr. Burmaster went on. “And if it proves to be Mrs. Lear I’ll add another five hundred.”

  “Why, not be rid of the Ghost in an easier way?”Penny suggested. “Give the money to the Huntley Dam Fund.”

  “Never! I’ll not be blackmailed! Besides, the rains are letting up. There’s no danger.”

  Penny and Louise did not attempt to argue the matter. The Huntley Dam feud was none of their concern. By the following day they expected to be far from the valley.

  “There’s another person who might be behind this,” Mr. Burmaster continued. “A newspaper editor at Hobostein. He always hated me and he’s been using his paper to write ugly editorials. I ought to sue him for slander.”

  Though the Headless Horseman episode had excited the girls, they were tired and eager to get to Mrs. Lear’s. Accordingly, they cut the conversation short and started on down the road. Mr. Burmaster fell into step walking with them as far as the house.

  “Come to see us sometime,” he invited with a cordiality that astonished the girls. “Mrs. Burmaster gets very lonesome. She’s nervous but she means well.”

  “I’m sure she does,” Penny responded kindly. She hesitated, then added: “I do hope you catch the prankster. Have you considered putting a barricade at the end of the bridge?”

  “Can’t do it. When we built this place we had to agree to keep the footbridge open to pedestrians.”

  “Suppose one had a moveable barrier,” Penny suggested. “Couldn’t your workmen keep watch and swing it into place after the Horseman started across the bridge? With one at each end he’d be trapped.”

  “It’s an idea to be considered,” Mr. Burmaster admitted. “The only trouble is that my workmen aren’t worth their salt as guards. But we’ll see.”

  Penny and Louise soon bade the estate owner goodnight and went on down the road. Once beyond hearing they discussed the possibility that Mrs. Lear might have masqueraded as the Headless Horseman.

  “It was queer the way she disappeared from the dance,” Penny speculated. “Granting that she’s a spry old lady, I doubt she’d have it in her to pull off the trick.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Louise argued. “Mr. Burmaster said she was a wonderful rider. Didn’t you think that horse tonight looked like Trinidad?”

  “Goodness, it was too dark to see! In any case, what about the buggy?”

  “Mrs. Lear could have unhitched it somewhere in the woods.”

  Penny shook her head. “It doesn’t add up somehow. For that matter, nothing about this affair does.”

  Rounding a curve, the girls came within view of the Lear cabin. No light burned, but they took it for granted Mrs. Lear had gone to bed.

  “Let’s give a look-see in the barn,” Penny proposed. “I want to make sure that our horses are all right.”

  “And to see that the buggy is there too,” laughed Louise.

  They went past the dripping water trough to the barn and opened the doors. White Foot nickered. Bones kicked at the stall boards. Penny tossed both horses a few ears of corn and then walked on to Trinidad’s stall. It was empty. Nor was there any evidence of a buggy.

  “Well, what do you think of that!” Penny commented. “Mrs. Lear’s not been home!”

  “Then maybe Mr. Burmaster’s theory is right!”Louise exclaimed, staring at the empty stall. “Mrs. Lear could have been the one!”

  “Listen!” commanded Penny.

  Plainly the girls could hear a horse and vehicle coming down the road. It was Mrs. Lear, and a moment later she turned into the yard. Penny swung open the barn doors. Trinidad rattled in and pulled up short. His sleek body was covered with sweat as if he had been driven hard.

  Mrs. Lear leaped lightly to the barn floor and began to unhitch the horse.

  “Well, I’m mighty glad to find you here,” she chirped. “Joe brought you home, didn’t he?”

  Penny replied that she and Louise had walked.

  “You don’t say!” the old woman exclaimed. “I went down the road a piece to see a friend o’ mine. By the time I got back the frolic was over. I calculated Joe must have brought you home.”

  Penny and Louise offered little comment as they helped Mrs. Lear unhitch Trinidad. However, they could see that the old lady was fairly brimming-over with suppressed excitement.

  “It’s late, but I ain’t one bit tired,” Mrs. Lear declared as they all entered the house. “There’s somethin’mighty stimulatin’ about a barn dance.”

  Penny was tempted to remark that her hostess had spent very little time at Silas Malcom’s place. Instead she remained silent.

  The girls went at once to bed. Mrs. Lear did not follow them upstairs immediately, but puttered about the kitchen preparing herself a midnight snack. Finally her step was heard on the stairs.

  “Good night, girls,” she called cheerfully as she passed their door. “Sleep tight.”

  Mrs. Lear entered her own bedroom. Her door squeaked shut. A shoe was heard to thud on the floor, then another.

  “I wish I knew what to think,” Penny confided to Louise in a whisper. “She’s the queerest old lady—”

  Louise had no opportunity
to reply. For both girls were startled to hear a shrill cry from the far end of the hall.

  The next instant their bedroom door burst open. Mrs. Lear, grotesque in old fashioned flannel nightgown, staggered into the room.

  “Why, what’s wrong?” Penny asked in astonishment.

  “I’ve been robbed!” Mrs. Lear proclaimed wildly. “I’ve been robbed!”

  CHAPTER 12

  PREMONITIONS

  Penny leaped out of bed and touched a match to the wick of an oil lamp. In its flickering yellow glow Mrs. Lear looked as pale as a ghost.

  “While we were at the barn dance someone broke into the house,” the old lady explained in an agitated voice. “The deed’s gone! Now I’ll be put off my land like the others. Oh, lawseeme, I wisht I was dead!”

  “What deed do you mean?” Penny asked, perplexed.

  “Why, the deed to this house and my land! I’ve always kept it under the mattress o’ my bed. Now it’s gone!”

  “Isn’t the deed recorded?”

  “No, it ain’t. I always calculated on havin’ it done, but I wanted to save the fee long as I could. Figured to have the property put in my son’s name jes’ before I up and died. He’s married and livin’ in Omaha. Now see what a mess I’m in.”

  “If the deed is lost and not recorded, you are in difficulties,” Penny agreed.

  “Perhaps it isn’t lost,” said Louise, encouragingly. “Did you search everywhere, Mrs. Lear?”

  “I pulled the bed half to pieces.”

  “We’ll help you look for it,” Penny offered. “It must be here somewhere.”

  “This is the fust time in twenty years that anyone ever stole anything off me,” the old lady wailed as she led the way down the dark hall. “But I kinda knowed somethin’ like this was goin’ to happen.”

  Mrs. Lear’s bedroom was in great disorder. Blankets had been strewn over the floor and the limp mattress lay doubled up on the springs.

  “You see!” the old lady cried. “The deed’s gone! I’ve looked everywhere.”

  Penny and Louise carefully folded all the blankets. They straightened the mattress and searched carefully along the springs. They looked beneath the bed. The missing paper was not to be found.