“There’s Mr. Williams,” Violet said.
The man stood stock-still in the shady shallows near a rocky outcropping. He cast expertly, his lead sinker plopping into the water with scarcely a ripple.
Benny waved, but Mr. Williams didn’t look up. “Why is he so grouchy?” he asked.
“Fishermen are serious about their sport,” Henry replied.
“He’s grouchy when he’s not fishing,” Jessie pointed out.
“Maybe he’s disappointed with Eagles Nest,” suggested Violet. “The place hardly lives up to its claims.”
As they walked farther upstream, the children were struck by the wild, unspoiled beauty of the land.
“I wish we knew why Mr. Lacey said Grandfather’s property is worthless,” Jessie said. “It’s perfect.”
Just then something hit Benny on the shin.
“Ouch!” he cried, hopping on one foot.
Violet examined his leg. “You’ve got a little scrape. It’ll be okay. What did you bump into?”
They searched through the long grass and found a wooden stake. Tied to the stake was a taut length of white nylon cord. They followed the cord to the edge of the stream, where it disappeared underwater.
Kneeling on the wet stones, Henry tugged at the white cord. “There’s a net on the end of this.”
“A net?” Jessie questioned.
“Yeah, like a badminton net,” Henry said. “It’s tied on the other side, too.”
Violet frowned. “Why would there be a net across the creek?”
“The net acts like a dam,” Henry explained. “I bet it’s holding back most of the trout. That’s why Mr. Williams can’t catch any fish. They’re all trapped up here.”
Jessie glanced downstream, thinking about Mr. Williams. At breakfast he had mentioned Tincup Creek was a gold-medal stream, yet Mrs. Harrington insisted the creek was all fished out. Why were the trout being penned way upstream?
Something was definitely fishy at Eagles Nest.
“What did Mr. Lacey want?” Henry asked Grandfather.
It was late afternoon. The children hadn’t been able to speak to their grandfather until then. They were all sitting in the rockers on the dining hall porch.
James Alden paused before he spoke. “He offered double his original offer for my property.”
“Why is he so anxious to buy your land?” asked Jessie.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” said Grandfather. “Why don’t we visit our town again. Maybe the answer is there.”
“We might see Rose’s ghost!” Benny said, jumping up.
“Now, Benny,” Grandfather said gently. “What have we said about ghosts?”
Deep inside, he knew Grandfather was right. But who was the mysterious Lady in Gray?
The Aldens went inside to ask to borrow Mrs. Harrington’s Jeep.
“Going to Tincup again, eh?” she remarked, handing over the keys.
“I think we’ll visit some buildings this time,” said Grandfather. “Show the children a bit of history.”
It was nearly sundown when they parked the Jeep and hiked down the wagon road into town.
Grandfather repeated his earlier warning. “Remember, these buildings may look okay, but be careful where you step.”
They went into the dry goods store.
“Check this out!” said Henry, awestruck.
Barrels stood by the high, dusty counter. Behind the counter, shelves climbed to the ceiling. The shelves were empty, but Henry could imagine them stocked with canned food, bolts of fabric, tools, boots, and dozens of other items.
“It’s spooky in here,” Violet whispered. “I feel like I’m in the wrong time or something.”
Jessie nodded. “Like people dressed in old-fashioned outfits will come in any second.”
“That’s the magic of old buildings,” said Grandfather. “They let us experience a true sense of history.”
As they headed back outside, Jessie cried, “Look! There she is!”
A figure glided ahead of them, toward the sinking sun. She wore the same gray dress and gray shawl.
“It’s the ghost of Rose Payne!” Benny gasped.
“There aren’t any ghosts!” Grandfather said. “Ma’am!” he called out. “Please stop! Ma’am!”
Everyone chased after the ghost.
But the woman rounded the corner of the last building in town, Anderson’s Hotel. By the time the Aldens reached the corner, the street was empty.
“She’s gone,” said Henry. “Vanished.”
“Nonsense,” stated Grandfather. “People don’t vanish.”
“But ghosts do,” said Benny.
CHAPTER 7
The Secret Cupboard
Everyone discussed the vanishing ghost at dinner that night.
“We saw Rose Payne,” Benny insisted.
Grandfather said, “Benny, we’ve been over this. There are no ghosts.”
“But we saw someone,” Violet insisted. “We even followed her. But she vanished.”
“Just like a ghost!” Corey leaned forward. He and Mr. Lacey were the only ones who had eaten the tough burgers that were supper that night. Jessie figured Corey cleaned his plate every meal because he didn’t want to hurt Marianne’s feelings. Both Marianne and Mrs. Harrington did the cooking at Eagles Nest.
“Or a real person who knows a hiding place,” said Mr. Williams. He had come back from Tincup Creek without any fish and now sat discouraged over the awful hamburger and boiled cabbage supper.
“I’d like to see the ghost,” Corey said.
“She only appears at sundown,” said Mrs. Harrington.
“That’s cool,” said Corey. “Will you kids take me? Maybe we could have a picnic.”
That sounded like fun to Benny. “May we go, Grandfather?” he asked eagerly.
“Corey is an experienced hiker,” Grandfather acknowledged. “I think it would be all right.”
“Yippee!” Benny said, forgetting the picnic would probably be as terrible as the other meals.
When supper was over, James Alden and Victor Lacey went for a walk to further discuss the property offer. Mr. Williams settled down with some fishing magazines in the sitting area.
Henry meant to tell the fisherman about the net stretched across the stream, but Corey was noisily scooping up the heavy white crockery dishes.
“Stop it,” Marianne told him, annoyed.
“Make me,” he teased. “I’m helping so you’ll go for a walk with me.”
Marianne’s dark brows drew together. “I don’t want to.”
“Why? I’m cute, funny, likable.” He grinned.
Marianne glanced meaningfully at the Alden children.
“Uh ... we should go brush our teeth,” Jessie said.
They left the dining hall.
“I don’t want to brush my teeth,” protested Benny.
Violet giggled. “We don’t have to yet. But we should leave Marianne and Corey alone.”
Instead of sitting in the rockers on the front porch, the children wandered around the back of the dining hall.
“Mrs. Harrington has put out the garbage already,” Henry said, noting the sturdy, bear-proof cans lined up on the back deck.
“She probably has lots of it,” Jessie said. “Nobody but Corey and Mr. Lacey ate that nasty meal. I don’t know how they stand it.”
“I don’t know how Marianne and Mrs. Harrington stand their own cooking,” Henry added. “If I were them, I’d hire a cook.”
Benny was staring at the row of cans. Beside them was a white metal cupboard with a lock through the double handles. One door was open, the lock dangling loosely from its handle. Pretty fancy for a garbage container, he thought.
Suddenly he knew what was in the cupboard. Marianne and Mrs. Harrington didn’t eat their own cooking.
“I bet I know what’s in the cabinet,” he declared.
“What?” asked Henry.
“Something good,” said Benny. “Look, the door’s open.
Can I look inside?”
Jessie nodded. “I guess it’s okay.”
Benny ran up on the porch. “I knew it! Food! Pork and beans, fruit juice, cupcakes, pickles — ”
Jessie suddenly felt nervous. “Come away from there, Benny. Mrs. Harrington might be back any minute.”
“Maybe those things will be in our picnic tomorrow,” Violet told him.
“Maybe.” But he doubted it.
Jessie pointed to some wires leading to a hinged metal panel beside the door.
“That’s the fuse box,” she said. “Those wires are for the phone and electricity.”
“I wonder why the phones and power are always going out,” Henry said. “I wonder if Mrs. Harrington tries to make this place horrible on purpose.”
“But why?” asked Violet. “She should want tourists to come, not scare them away.”
“I think the key to this mystery,” said Jessie, “is the Lady in Gray.”
“We’ll see her tomorrow,” Violet said softly.
The next afternoon the children and Corey piled into the Jeep.
“Us old guys will stay behind and chew the fat,” said Victor Lacey, waving them off.
“Chew the fat?” said Benny. “Is that what’s in our picnic basket?” He wouldn’t be surprised.
“I hope not!” Corey laughed, starting the Jeep with a roar. “Now you kids show me the way.”
The road was as bumpy as ever. Jessie felt like her bones were being rattled.
Suddenly Corey hit a huge pothole and the Jeep halted.
“Uh-oh,” he said, hopping out. He and Henry lifted the hood.
“Do you know anything about cars?” asked Henry.
“Oh, sure.” Corey twisted knobs and pulled out oily dipsticks. After tinkering with the engine about fifteen minutes, he threw up his greasy hands. “She’s a goner! We’ll have to walk.”
Violet hauled the picnic basket out of the backseat while Jessie grabbed the plaid blanket Marianne had given them to sit on.
Jessie whispered to Henry, “I thought Corey could fix cars.”
“That’s what he said,” he whispered back. “But all he did was check the oil and battery fluid.”
When they reached the wagon trail leading down into the canyon, Corey took the picnic basket and blanket from the girls. He’s really nice, Jessie thought. If he weren’t so loud, maybe Marianne would like him better.
Corey was excited about everything in Tincup. He pretended to be a cowboy getting off his horse in front of the dry goods store, giving Benny a fit of giggles. After he looped imaginary reins over the hitching post, they went inside.
“Cool,” Corey said. “I wish I lived in those days.”
“Me, too,” agreed Benny. He liked Corey.
Violet was checking the sky out the window. “The sun is starting to go down,” she reported. “We’d better get ready.”
But Rose never appeared. The sun faded over the rim of the canyon without any sign of the Lady in Gray.
“I guess even a ghost needs a night off,” Corey joked.
Sitting on the blanket, they ate their supper — cheese and stale bread with boiled eggs.
“Don’t you think the food here is lousy?” Jessie asked Corey.
He laughed. “If you had college food, you’d think this was great.” He tipped his head back. “If I’m not mistaken, serious rain clouds are rolling in. We’d better hurry back.”
They packed quickly. As they hurried down Main Street, Violet glanced back over her shoulder. She had a feeling someone was watching them.
Someone was!
Violet glimpsed half a shadowed face through the slatted swinging doors of the dance hall. A yellowed, gnarled hand gripped the edge of the door.
Was it the ghost of Rose Payne, scared off by Corey’s loud voice? she wondered. Afraid, Violet scurried to catch up with the others.
Without the Jeep, it was a long hike back to Eagles Nest. Maybe I’m imagining things, Violet thought. She decided not to tell anyone about the face.
Heavy clouds burst while the children were several yards from the motel. Soaked and shivering, they ran into the dining hall.
Grandfather had built a fire in the stone fireplace. Lanterns glowed on tables. The power was out again.
“The Jeep died,” Corey explained, taking the thin towel Marianne handed him.
“So has the electricity and phones — again,” said Mr. Williams with disgust. “I think I’ll pack it in.”
“You’re leaving?” asked Mrs. Harrington. “In this storm?”
“It’s not that far to Beaverton,” said Mr. Williams. “At least I can get a decent meal! You can send me a refund in the mail.” Then he stalked out of the hall, knocking over the stack of fishing magazines.
Henry and Benny bent to straighten the pile. In the flickering lamplight, a picture caught Henry’s eye. His suspicions about the two fishermen grew stronger.
“You guys get dry,” Jessie told her brothers and sister. “I had the blanket over my head, so I’m not as wet as you are. I’ll go to our cabins and bring dry socks and shirts.”
“Take the umbrella.” Grandfather handed her a black umbrella.
But when Jessie opened it outside, the umbrella was full of holes! Nothing worked at Eagles Nest!
“I’m better off without it,” she muttered to herself.
As she skirted puddles, she saw Corey leaving his cabin. He wore a yellow plastic rain poncho and was heading for the dining hall.
Something peculiar was sticking out from under his poncho. It looked like the gray crocheted shawl worn by the ghost of Rose Payne!
Was Corey Browne pretending to be the ghost of Tincup?
CHAPTER 8
The Discovery
“This mystery keeps getting weirder and weirder,” said Benny as he followed his brother up the steep path. “I wonder if that face you saw yesterday was Rose Payne.” Violet had decided to share her sighting with her sister and brothers after all.
“I know,” agreed Violet. She walked right behind Benny. “First there was that awful face, then Jessie saw the ghost’s shawl under Corey’s poncho. It really is weird.”
It was a perfect day. Grandfather had driven into Beaverton to meet with a real estate lawyer.
“I can’t imagine why Mr. Lacey is offering me so much money” Grandfather had told the children after breakfast. “He keeps hounding me about selling the land. Maybe a real estate lawyer familiar with property around here can help me make a decision.”
The children had looked at one another. They didn’t want Grandfather to sell the land or the town. So after Grandfather drove away in the rental car, they decided to explore his property.
“Now, don’t wander off,” Mrs. Harrington warned them.
“We won’t go far,” Violet promised. “We want to hike and take some pictures.”
Mrs. Harrington had frowned suspiciously, as if she didn’t trust them.
Jessie carried the survey map. Benny and Henry toted small packs with their lunches, made from the groceries Grandfather had brought back from Beaverton the other day.
At the big rock, Jessie unfolded the map and studied it. “We know where Tincup is.
And we know which way Old Gert’s cabin is. Let’s go that way.” She pointed east. “We haven’t been in that direction yet.”
Henry quickly located a trail and they began climbing. As they hiked, they went over the mystery.
“Mr. Williams is gone for good,” said Henry. “We can scratch him off our suspect list.”
“It looks like Corey is the ghost,” said Jessie. “I mean, why else would he have that shawl?”
“But who did Violet see in the dance hall?” asked Henry. “It couldn’t have been Corey. He was with us.”
Violet shivered in the hot sun. “Oh! That was so scary! Her face was yellowed and wrinkled and her hands were like claws.”
“She must be an old, old lady,” Benny ventured. “Even older than Old Gert.”
“But how could she live in that town?” Jessie asked. “Without food or running water or heat — . Hey, see what I found!” she exclaimed. She pointed to a pair of rusted metal rails. “Tiny train tracks.”
“It’s a tramway,” said Henry, parting the weeds to examine the rails. “We must be near the silver mine.”
“Oh, boy!” Benny cried. “Let’s find the mine!”
“We have to watch out,” Henry warned. “Old mine shafts are dangerous. You could walk right over it and fall in.”
But the Tincup Silver Mine was easy to locate. All they had to do was follow the tramway tracks. At the end they found a ramshackle shelter that covered the mine entrance. The entrance had been boarded over, though some of the planks were rotted.
“Let’s stay away from it,” Jessie said. “The idea of a deep mine shaft makes me nervous.”
“Time for lunch anyway,” said Benny. At least today he’d have something good.
The kids found some square gray stones not too far from the mine. The sun-warmed stones made a perfect picnic table.
As she munched raisins, Violet stroked the hand-tooled granite. “You know what I think this is?” she said.
“What?” asked Jessie.
“What’s left of Rose and Duncan Payne’s mansion!”
Henry glanced around. “I bet you’re right, Violet. These stones are the foundation. Over there is part of a wall. And those smooth flat stones are roofing slates.”
She snapped a picture of the tumbled brick. “This was probably a beautiful place. It’s a shame it’s fallen down.”
After lunch, the Aldens wandered around what was left of the Payne mansion. Benny found a teardrop-shaped piece of glass that sparkled in the sun.
“Oooh,” he exclaimed. “Is this a diamond?”
“It’s a crystal prism,” said Jessie. “It’s cut so it catches the light and throws rainbows. It probably came off a chandelier or a light fixture.”
Benny held up the prism, letting the sun create rainbows. “Mrs. McGregor told me a story once, about a little boy who found a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I wonder if I can find one today!”
He scampered off, the prism dangling from his fingers.
“Benny, wait!” Jessie called.
The Ghost Town Mystery Page 4
