Ghost Rider

by Bonnie Bryant

  The most quiet and private spot around was the horror house, which had been shut down. She entered, turned on some lights, and pulled up a chair to the table where the peeled grapes and cold pasta had been so terrifying to little visitors so recently. They didn’t look particularly frightening in the light. Nor did they look appetizing. Stevie emptied the bowls in a nearby garbage can and went to work.

  “HOLD THE LADDER steady now,” John said from above.

  “Don’t worry,” Lisa assured him. “I got plenty of practice at it when you were putting the crepe paper up. I don’t think I’ve lost all my skills now that you’re taking it down.”

  “Thanks,” he said, dropping a large handful of crepe paper on the floor. Lisa scooped it up and put it in the garbage, all without letting go of the ladder.

  Although other parts of the fair were continuing, the horror house was closed for the season, and the two of them had appointed themselves the committee to take it apart. It was a lot easier than putting it all together, and it seemed like a nice way to finish the day. At last it was relatively quiet, and there, in the small rooms they’d made for the horror house, it was even a little cozy—if you didn’t mind crepe paper drifting down from above every once in a while.

  “There, that’s the last of that bunch,” John said, climbing down. “I think there’s some more in the next section, though.”

  “Not much,” Lisa said. “Most of it got pulled down by the kids who were running to get away from me.”

  “You were great,” he said. “I mean, all the kids I brought through were more scared when you were tickling them than at any other point—even more than when they slid into the Styrofoam.”

  “You weren’t bad yourself—as a headless horseman, I mean. You scared a lot of the kids with that costume.”

  “Maybe, but I’m glad to be rid of those shoulder pads. I always wondered if I should be going out for football. Now I know for sure I couldn’t possibly stand all that weight.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me that most football players only wear one set of shoulder pads at a time, right? And I also think they make their jerseys so that their heads stick out the top?”

  John smiled at her joke. “I guess so, but I still think I’ll stick to lacrosse. It’s more my style, and you aren’t as likely to get totally beaten up. Anyway, I didn’t like scaring the kids too much. I know Halloween is supposed to be a little scary, but some of them were very frightened by me. I was glad to take the costume off for them, too.”

  “You’re good with the kids,” Lisa said. “Have you had experience? I mean, have you got younger brothers and sisters?”

  Lisa was sorry the instant she’d asked the question. Of course he didn’t have any younger brothers and sisters or they’d be at The Bar None with John and his dad. John seemed to be sensitive to any questions about his family. She wished she’d thought before she spoke.

  “I did,” he answered, surprising her.

  “You did?” she couldn’t help asking.

  “I—” he sat down on the bottom step of the ladder. “I did, once,” he said, completing his sentence.

  Lisa wasn’t sure if he regretted giving the information or if he really wanted to talk.

  “You don’t have to …,” she began.

  “But I want to,” he blurted suddenly. “Somehow I think you’ll understand.”

  Would she? She didn’t know. So far, she felt only confusion. She waited.

  “I did have a sister. Her name was Gaylin. She was a wonderful child, always happy, always laughing. Then one day Gaylin was sick. She was very sick and there was no doctor nearby. My father had to drive my mother and Gaylin to the hospital. I came along, too. I sat in the front seat with Dad. Mother was in the back. Gaylin lay on the backseat next to her with her head on Mother’s lap. She was so sick she was sweating with her fever. Dad knew it was bad, and he knew Gaylin’s life depended on his ability to drive. He drove fast, as fast as he could, and still it didn’t seem like it was fast enough. But it turned out to be too fast, because when a deer ran across the road, Dad tried to stop and swerved to avoid it. He missed the deer but ran the car right off the edge of the road and down a shallow ravine. He and I were okay. We’d had our seat-belts on. But Mother and Gaylin weren’t so lucky.”

  Lisa gulped, understanding his pain.

  “There was a police inquiry,” John continued. “Some people said Dad had been drinking, but it wasn’t true. There was a question, though, and there was talk. Plenty of it. Anybody could feel sorry for a man whose wife and daughter were killed in a car accident. Nobody would pity a man who’d killed them. It wasn’t Dad’s fault. Even the police concluded that. That didn’t stop the rumors, though.”

  “Oh, John,” Lisa began. “It must have been awful.…” It seemed like such a weak thing to say, but she meant it.

  “It was,” he said. “It still is, too, especially for Dad. He doesn’t drink, never did, but sometimes it seems like he might as well. He just withdraws, sleeps all the time. That’s where he was the other night when you found me with the mare. He should have been there, but he wasn’t. So I was just filling in.”

  Lisa reached for John’s hand. She wanted to give him comfort, but she also wanted to be close to him. His hand was big and strong and warm. She squeezed it affectionately.

  “You must miss them both,” she said.

  “I do. But in some ways I still have them, here in my heart, I mean. Every time I see a happy child, I feel I am with Gaylin again. And my mother? Well, I remember her through the stories she used to tell us. She was the great-granddaughter of a chief, and it was her family’s responsibility to keep the hearth and carry the traditions to each succeeding generation.”

  “You mean like the story about the young lovers and the stallion? She told you that?”

  “It was her favorite. She swore it was true, too. She lived all of her life believing that story—believing that no matter what else happened, there was always the stallion to help those who tried to do good things for our people. Sometimes I’m sure it was White Eagle who carried her and Gaylin out of the car …”

  “How beautiful,” Lisa said.

  She became aware then that John was looking at her deeply. He glanced at their hands, now clasped warmly. He stood up and reached for her other hand. Lisa gave it to him.

  “Lisa, I—”

  “Shhh. You don’t have to say anything.”

  He moved closer to her. She looked up at him, wondering, hoping, knowing …

  “Got one!” Stevie shrieked from the other side of a temporary wall.

  Lisa and John looked at one another in total surprise. They had had no idea she was there!

  “Got what?” Lisa asked. She was trying very hard not to sound annoyed, but it wasn’t easy. If she’d had her choice of when to be interrupted by her dear friend Stevie, it would have been almost any time but then!

  “Oh, is that you, Lisa? Are you there? Are you alone?” Stevie asked.

  Lisa and John shared a little giggle. “I’m here with John,” Lisa said, brushing the layers of curtains aside and joining Stevie in what they’d come to think of as the grape-and-spaghetti room. John followed her.

  “I got a winner,” Stevie told them proudly. “Look, here it is. One child got the exact number of candy corns that Phyllis wrote on her piece of paper. Now all I have to do is search and see if anybody else has it. I was afraid I was going to have to sort through a thousand entries to find the one that’s the closest. Give me a hand, will you? You, too, John?”

  “You and Lisa can do that,” John said. “I think I’ll finish removing the black crepe paper and see what else needs to be tidied. See you later, okay?”

  “Sure,” Stevie said. Then she thought for a second. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to test and see if the mysterious rider had been John. If he admitted it, that would confirm it. If he denied it, well, it almost certainly still was John. After all, who else could it be? A ghos
t? No way! “Thanks for helping me earlier,” she said finally.

  Lisa didn’t know what Stevie was talking about, but there was a mischievous twinkle in Stevie’s eye, and Lisa found herself a little bit jealous.

  “How’s that?” John asked. Apparently he didn’t know what she was talking about, either. That made Lisa feel somewhat better.

  “Out there?” Stevie said.

  “Where?”

  “In the desert? When you saved my life?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” John said.

  “You don’t have to keep it up anymore,” Stevie said. “I mean, after all, you did deliver me safely to the Lonetrees’ house.”

  “I did?”

  “Nice try, but thanks anyway. No matter what you say, I still say thank you. You didn’t give me a chance before, so now I’m saying it and I mean it.”

  John shrugged. “I guess you’re welcome then,” he said. “But I don’t know why.”

  He slipped away. Lisa could hear him moving the ladder. She wanted to go hold it for him. She wanted to be with him, to bring back that moment of quiet and intimacy that was unlike any moment she’d ever known before in her life.

  “Here, you go through this stack,” Stevie said, handing her a huge pile of entry slips.

  “What was that all about?” Lisa asked when she was sure John was out of their hearing.

  “It was just another one of John’s practical jokes,” Stevie said. “Except this one was no joke and it was very practical. I’ll tell you later, okay? Right now, we have to concentrate on these entry slips. Besides, I want to tell the whole story to everyone at once.” Stevie looked at the entry slip on the top of her stack and scowled. “Is that 7,561 or 7,567?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s not the right answer,” Lisa said quickly. She wanted to pump Stevie for more information on her mysterious conversation with John, but she knew there was no point. If Stevie had decided to keep a secret—for now, anyway—wild horses, even silvery stallions, couldn’t drag it out of her.

  Lisa concentrated on the stack of slips in front of her.

  STEVIE FELT WONDERFUL. The gigantic pile of entry slips in front of her meant she and Lisa were going to have to do a lot of work looking through them, but it also meant they made a ton of money. Mrs. Lonetree’s dollhouse was perfect!

  A few other things had her feeling good as well. For one thing, she had a wonderful adventure to share with her friends! For another, she was alive. She still hadn’t recovered from her fright out on the trail with the rattlesnake, but she was alive, and she was safe. Moreover, she’d had a chance to thank John—even though he denied it, of course.

  “John is one funny guy,” Stevie said to Lisa.

  “Yes,” Lisa agreed. Stevie could have sworn her friend sighed as she said it. She couldn’t imagine why.

  “How did it go in the horror house?” Stevie asked.

  “What?” Lisa asked. She seemed embarrassed. Again, Stevie couldn’t figure out Lisa’s reaction.

  “Horror house,” Stevie repeated. “I heard kids screaming all afternoon. I assume that means they were having fun.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Lisa said. “The kids had a fabulous time. Everything you planned worked beautifully. You are a genius, you know. About most things.”

  “Yes, I know,” Stevie said modestly, though it crossed her mind briefly to wonder what things Lisa thought she wasn’t a genius about. It wasn’t too hard to figure out. Lisa was a straight-A student. Stevie wasn’t. Stevie decided that was what Lisa meant.

  They worked together in silence, now quickly sifting through the entries. They had to pause a few times because they had trouble with handwriting or wanted to share a particularly interesting entry.

  “Get this,” Stevie said, reading from a small slip of paper. “It says ‘Even if this isn’t right, please, please, please choose me because I really love the dollhouse.’ ”

  “Is it the right number?” Lisa asked.

  “Nope, and too bad,” Stevie said. “I remember the child who filled it out. She’s dressed as Darth Vader. She scared me, I’ll tell you!”

  Eventually they finished examining the last of the entries and were more than a little relieved to find that there was only one correct answer. They had no idea what they would have done if there had been more than one winner. Stevie had suggested the possibility that she might eat a candy or two until they got to another number that there was only one entry for. Fortunately, she didn’t have to.

  The minute Stevie and Lisa entered the main room of the basement, there was a hush. Every child there knew Stevie was in charge and what she had just been up to.

  “We have a winner!” Stevie declared.

  The kids gathered around.

  “We certainly do,” said Phyllis Devine, momentarily taking the floor from Stevie. “And the winner is the after-school program. While Stevie has been counting candies, I’ve been counting cash. Today’s fair has earned over two thousand dollars!” Stevie could hardly believe it. She’d thought they would be lucky to make five hundred dollars.

  “Now, Stevie, tell us who the winner is.”

  Stevie took the winning slip from Lisa. “The actual number of candies in the jar was two thousand five!” There was a gasp. Stevie had completely forgotten, but she knew who the winner was. She’d watched the little panda fill out all six slips. Two thousand five was her very last twenty-five cents!

  “It’s me!” declared the panda, dashing forward. “I won! I won!”

  Stevie couldn’t help grinning. Neither could anybody else who witnessed the joy.

  “You absolutely did!” Stevie said, giving the little girl a hug and leading her to where her dollhouse was stored. The two of them were followed by a lot of curious and excited kids. By the time Stevie actually turned over the dollhouse to the panda, the girl was too busy making playdates with friends who wanted a chance at her newest toy to pay any attention to Stevie. It was all Stevie could do to get out of the mob. Their happiness made her feel very good. This was definitely for a good cause—more than one, in fact.

  Stevie had been looking at entry slips for so long that she hadn’t had a chance to look at the mural for a long time. She was astonished to see how much work had been done on it, and now that she wasn’t selling tickets or counting them, she took a good long time to check it out.

  Phyllis Devine was there, too.

  “It’s wonderful!” Stevie said, looking at the glorious collection of drawings. She found what she thought was a panda, next to a lopsided sugarplum fairy, not far from what looked like Superman trying to trap a navel orange—or maybe it was a pumpkin. She found a balloon hovering over three witches and a ghost. Next to them were none other than three blind mice and a farmer’s wife. She thought she sensed the fine hand of Kate Devine there. She was pretty good with a paintbrush. She also saw Christine in her gleaming white outfit, including the cape. The cape made Stevie remember her ride and the one mysterious aspect of it. Where had John gotten the cape he’d worn?

  And where was John in the mural? She was sure he would have wanted to leave his mark, but she searched every inch of the mural and couldn’t find the headless horseman. Then, in a corner, up high in the sky, she found his mark. It wasn’t the headless horseman at all. It was the silvery stallion, sleek and beautiful, with a nick in his ear. He had no rider in the picture. There was no cape, no young lovers—just the horse, proud, wild, and free.

  Although Stevie thought John was a pretty odd young man, she had to admit that he sure did know how to ride a horse, and he sure knew how to draw one!

  “THAT’S THE LAST bag of garbage,” Carole announced proudly, putting the black plastic bag outside the back of the high school.

  “Then that’s the last bit of cleanup we have to do,” Stevie said. The deal had been that if they ran the fair, disassembled the horror house, and took out the garbage, other volunteers would do all the rest of the cleanup. They were done. What they
had come to the West to accomplish was complete. Finished. Successful.

  “What do we do now?” Lisa asked, aware that she felt a little let down.

  “Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it?” Stevie asked. “It’s Halloween night, we’re in costumes, we go trick or treating!”

  Only Stevie would think of collecting candy after an exhausting day of running the Halloween Fair. And that was just one of the reasons her friends loved her.

  “So what are we waiting for?” Christine asked.

  “Can John come with us?” Lisa asked. The girls looked at her curiously. “He worked very hard at the fair. He ought to have some fun, too,” she said quickly.

  Carole had the feeling there was more to it than that, but before she could ask, Kate answered the question. “I invited him, but he said he had to get back to the ranch. He wanted to check on the filly. I don’t know why his father can’t do that—”

  Lisa knew. She almost spoke up, but that wouldn’t have been fair to John. He’d told her the story of his sister’s and his mother’s death and the effect it had on his father when they were alone. He surely wouldn’t want her to share the information with her friends.

  “He just loves the filly,” she said. “She’s awfully cute, you know.”

  Stevie clicked her tongue to get Stewball moving, and then when everybody else was at a comfortable walk, she said, “I’m sure he does love the filly, but I wouldn’t count on his going back to The Bar None. He’s probably waiting for us somewhere on the stallion in his white costume, ready to give us another show.”

  “What do you mean ‘another show’?” Lisa asked.