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 a tight ball, slumbered undisturbed. But not for long. Penny tickled an exposed 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 the covers 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 have something important to tell you.”

As the girls dressed in the cold bedroom, Penny told Louise of the telephone conversation she had heard the previous night.

“Mrs. Lear was talking to Silas Malcom I’m sure,” she concluded. “And about us too! She said we’d handle very easily.”

Louise’s eyes opened a trifle wider. “Then you figure Silas Malcom intended 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 simple by any means! Unless we watch our step they may take us for a merry ride.”

“Not with the Headless Horseman, I hope,” Louise chuckled. “Why don’t we go home this morning and forget the whole silly affair?”

Penny shook her head. “I’m sticking until I find out what’s going on here,” she announced. “It might mean a story for Dad’s paper!”

“Oh, that’s only your excuse,” Louise teased. “You know you never could resist 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 as she 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 for warmth. An old-fashioned clock on the mantel showed that it was only eight o’clock. But eight o’clock for Mrs. Lear was a late hour, judging by the amount of work she had done. A row of glass jars stood on the table, 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 added modestly. “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, and placed 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 eccentric old woman. Deliberately, she brought up the subject of the Burmaster family.

“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 old lady replied promptly. “Mr. Burmaster ain’t so bad, only he’s pulled around 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. “You know 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 Eastern owner?” inquired Penny.

“That’s right. All except these here four acres where my house sets. They ain’t nothin’ in this world that will git me in a mood to sell to that old skinflint. He’s tried every trick in the bag already.”

Penny thoughtfully reached for another pancake. As an impartial judge she could see that there was something to be said on both sides of the question. Mr. Burmaster had purchased his land legally, and so could not be blamed for asking the former renters to move. Yet she sympathized with the farmers who for so many years had considered the valley their own.

“This house o’ mine ain’t much to look at,” Mrs. Lear commented reflectively, “but it’s been home fer a long time. Ain’t nobody going to get 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 bed mattress.”

“Won’t you tell us about Mr. Burmaster’s difficulty with the Headless Horseman,” Penny urged, feeling that the old lady was in a talkative mood.

“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 fer yourselves,” 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 team couldn’t pry it out o’ me, and neither can you!”

Before Penny could resume the subject, chickens began to squawk and scatter in the barn yard. A large, expensive looking car pulled up near the side door. Mrs. Lear peeped out of a window and her jaw set in a firm, hard line.

“That’s Mr. Burmaster now,” she announced in a stage whisper. “Well, he ain’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 her time before she let him in.

“Good morning,” he said brightly.

“Humph! What’s good about it?” Mrs. Lear shot back. “It’s rainin’, ain’t it? And if we git much more o’ it this fall, the dam up Huntley way’s goin’ to let go shore as I’m a standin’ here.”

“Nonsense!” replied the estate owner impatiently. He stepped into the kitchen. Seeing Penny and Louise, he looked rather surprised and a trifle embarrassed.

“Go on and say what you come to say,” Mrs. Lear encouraged. “Don’t stand on no ceremony jus’ cause I got city visitors.”

Obviously Mr. Burmaster did not like to speak before strangers, but there was no other way.

“You know why I am here, Mrs. Lear,” he began. “I’ve already made several offers for your property—”

“And I’ve turned ’em all down.”

“Yes, but this time I hope you’ll listen to reason. Last night my wife had a near collapse after a boy rode a horse across the bridge by our house. All this stupid talk about Headless Horsemen has inspired the community 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 asked impudently.

“Nothing would please me better. But we’ve had no success. My wife can’t endure the strain much longer. It’s driving her to a frenzy.”

“I’m sorry about that,” replied Mrs. Lear stonily. “There ain’t nothin’ I can do.”

“I want you to sell this property,” Mr. Burmaster pleaded. “At least that will remove one irritation. You see, my wife considers the place an eyesore. She can see your house from our living room window. It ruins an otherwise perfect view of the valley.”

“Now ain’t that too bad!” Mrs. Lear’s tone was sarcastic. “Well, let me tell 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 she didn’t have my house to bother her it would be somethin’ else. I ain’t goin’ to sell and that’s all there is to it!”

“You’ve not heard my offer. I’ll give you two thousand dollars for this place—cash.”

Mrs. Lear looked a trifle stunned.

“At best the place isn’t worth five hundred,” Mr. Burmaster resumed. “But I aim to be generous.”

“I won’t sell,” Mrs. Lear said firmly. “Not at any price. Them’s my final words.”

Mr. Burmaster had kept his voice carefully controlled but the old lady’s decision angered him.

“You’ll regret this!” he said in a harsh tone. “I’ve been very patient but 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 the estate owner.

Everyone turned quickly. Joe Quigley, the young station agent, stood framed in the open doorway. Smiling at Burmaster in a grim way, he came slowly into the kitchen.