Hoofbeats on the Turnpike

by Mildred A. Wirt

  CHAPTER 21 _A MYSTERY EXPLAINED_

  Joe Quigley did not deny the accusation. He slumped at the telegraphdesk, staring straight before him.

  "Why did you do it?" Penny asked. "How could you?"

  "I don't know--now," Quigley answered heavily. "It seemed like a goodidea at the time."

  Penny shook out the garment. The whole, when worn over one's head, wouldgive an appearance of a sheeted goblin with body cut off at theshoulders. She tore off a long strip of the material and began to wrapQuigley's injured hand.

  "You've known for a long time, haven't you?" he asked diffidently.

  "I suspected it, but I wasn't sure," Penny replied. "Your style of ridingis rather spectacular. Last night when I saw Trinidad leap the barrier atSleepy Hollow I thought I knew."

  "Nothing matters now," Quigley said, self accusingly. "Sleepy Hollow'sgone."

  "Don't you think Mrs. Lear and the Burmasters had any chance to reach thehills?"

  "I doubt it. When the dam broke, the water raced down the valley with thespeed of an express train. Probably they were caught like rats in atrap."

  "It seems too horrible."

  "I knew this would happen," Quigley went on. "It was what I foughtagainst. We tried through the Delta Citizens' Committee to get Burmasterto help repair the dam before it was too late. You know what luck wehad."

  "So failing in ordinary methods, you tried to bring him around with yourHeadless Horseman stunt?"

  "It was a foolish idea," Quigley acknowledged. "Mrs. Lear really put meup to it--not that I'm trying to throw any blame on her. She never likedMrs. Burmaster, and for good reasons. The Headless Horseman affairstarted out as a prank, and then I thought I saw a chance to influenceBurmaster that way."

  "At that he might have come around if it hadn't been for his wife."

  "Yes, she was against the town from the first. She hated everyone. Why,she believed that our only thought was to get her away from the valleyjust to trick her."

  "I guess it doesn't matter now," Penny said. "The estate's gone andeveryone with it. Somehow I can't realize it--things happened so fast."

  "This is a horrible disaster, and it will be worse if help doesn't gethere fast," Quigley replied. "Fortunately, the water doesn't seem to becoming higher."

  Penny had completed a rough bandaging job on the station agent's hand.Thanking her, he got up to test the two office telephones. Both were outof service.

  Presently a message came in over the telegraph wire. It was addressed toPenny and was from her father. Quigley copied it on a pad and handed itto her.

  "Thank God you are safe," the message read. "A special circuit will becut through to the Delta station as soon as possible. Can you give us acomplete, running story of the flood?"

  "What's a running story?" Quigley asked curiously.

  "I think Dad wants me to gather every fact I can," Penny explained. "Hewants a continuous story--enough material to fill a wire for severalhours."

  "You'll do it?"

  "I don't know," Penny said doubtfully. "I've never handled a story as bigas this--I've had no experience on anything so important."

  "There's no other person to do it."

  "I want to find Louise," Penny went on, rereading the message. "I oughtto try to learn what happened to poor Mrs. Lear and the Burmasters."

  "Listen," Quigley argued quietly. "You can't do anything for your friendsnow. Don't you see it's your duty to get news out to the country? Yourfather expects it of you."

  Penny remained silent.

  "Don't you realize there's no one else to send the news?" Quigleydemanded. "You're probably the only reporter within miles of here."

  "But I'm not really a reporter. I've written stories for Dad's paper,it's true. But not big stories such as this."

  "Red Valley needs help. The only way to get it is by arousing the public.Do I wire your father 'yes' or 'no'?"

  "Make it 'yes,'" Penny decided. "Tell Dad I'll try to have something forhim in an hour."

  "You'll need longer than that," Quigley advised. "Anyhow, it's apt to beseveral hours before we get a special wire through."

  While the agent sent the message, Penny searched the office for penciland paper.

  "You won't get far without shoes," Quigley said over his shoulder. "Whatbecame of yours?"

  "Left them over on the hillside."

  "Well, you can't go back for them now," Quigley replied, gazing ruefullythrough the window at the racing torrent which separated the station fromthe high hill. "Let's see what we can find for you."

  He rummaged through the closet and came upon a pair of boots which lookednearly small enough for Penny.

  "We had a boy who wore those when he worked here," he explained. "See ifthey'll do. And here's my coat."

  "Oh, I can't take it," Penny protested. "You'll need it yourself."

  "No, I'm sticking here at my post," Quigley answered. "I'll be warmenough."

  He insisted that Penny wear the coat. She left the station and wadedtoward higher ground. The coat over her drenched clothing offered onlyslight protection from the chill wind. With the sun dropping low, sheknew that soon she would actually suffer from cold.

  Penny wondered where to start in gathering vital facts for her father.The flood had followed the narrow V-shaped valley, cutting a swath ofdestruction above Delta, and there spreading out to the lowlands. Shedecided to tour the outlying section of Delta first, view the wreckageand question survivors.

  "If only Salt were here!" she thought. "Dad would want pictures, butthere's no way for me to take them."

  Keeping to the hillside, Penny reached a high point of land overlookingwhat had been the town of Delta. Two or three streets remained as before.One of the few business places still standing was the big white stonebuilding that housed the local telephone company. Elsewhere there wasonly water and scattered debris.

  Penny headed up the valley, passing and meeting groups of bedraggledrefugees who had taken to the hills at the first alarm. She questionedeveryone. Nevertheless, definite information eluded her. How many liveshad been lost? How great was the property damage? What fate had befallenMrs. Lear and the Burmasters? No one seemed to know.

  Half sick with despair, she kept on. She jotted down names and facts. Mr.Bibbs, an old man who ran a weekly newspaper at Delta, was able to helpher more than anyone else. Not only did he give her a partial list of theknown missing, but he recited many other facts that had escaped Penny.

  "A million thanks--" she began gratefully, but he waved her into silence.

  "Just get back to the railroad station and send your story," he urged.

  Penny lost all count of time as she retraced her way along the muddyhillside. Everywhere she saw suffering and destruction. Her mind was sonumbed to the sight that she recorded impressions automatically.

  It was long after nightfall before Penny reached the station. Everymuscle protested as she dragged herself wearily to the doorstep. Duringher absence the flood had lowered by nearly a foot. However, the currentremained swift, and she steadied herself for a moment against thebuilding wall.

  "Who's there?" called Quigley sharply.

  "Penny Parker."

  "Okay, come on in," the agent invited. "Thought you might be a looter."

  Penny pushed open the door. The waiting room was filled with men, womenand children who slumped in cold misery on the uncomfortable row ofseats. Few were provided with any warm clothing.

  Penny splashed through the dark, musty room to the inner office. Quigleyhad lighted a smoky oil lamp which revealed that he had made himself abed on top of the telegraph desk.

  "I'm turning in for the night," he explained. "There's nothing more wecan do until morning."

  "How about my story to the _Star_?" Penny asked wearily. "Is the specialwire set up yet?"

  "Don't make me laugh," Quigley replied. "The Dispatcher's wire went outfor good over an hour ago. Too bad you k
illed yourself to get that story,because it will have to wait."

  "But it mustn't wait," Penny protested. "Dad's counting on me. I gave mypromise. How about the telephone company?"

  "Their lines are all down."

  "Western Union?"

  "It's the same with them. Repair crews are on their way here but it willtake time. The valley's completely cut off from communication."

  "For how long?"

  "Listen, Penny, you know as much about it as I do. The airfields areunder water."

  "How about the roads?"

  "Open only part of the way."

  Completely discouraged, Penny sagged into a chair by the ticket counter.She was wet through, plastered with mud, hungry, and tired enough tocollapse. After all of her work and suffering, her efforts had been invain. By morning experienced city reporters and photographers would swarminto the valley. Her scoop would be no scoop at all.

  "Oh, brace up," Quigley encouraged carelessly.

  "But I've failed Dad. It would mean a lot to him to get an exclusivestory of this disaster. I gave him my promise I'd send the facts--nowI've failed."

  "It's not your fault the wire couldn't be set up," Quigley tried toencourage her. "Here, I managed to get ahold of a blanket for you. Wrapup in it and grab some sleep. You'll need your strength tomorrow."

  "I guess you're right," Penny acknowledged gloomily.

  Taking off the muddy boots, she rolled herself into the warm blanket.Curling up into the chair she pillowed her head on the desk and slept theuntroubled sleep of complete exhaustion.