Hoofbeats on the Turnpike Part 13

"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 n.o.body 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 sh.o.r.e 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 embarra.s.sed.

"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 Hors.e.m.e.n 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.

CHAPTER 9 _STRAIGHT FROM THE SHOULDER_

A silence had fallen upon those in the room. Joe Quigley shook rain drops from his overcoat. Deliberately he took his time hanging the coat over a chair in front of the cook stove. Then, still smiling in an ironic way, he faced Burmaster.

"I repeat," he challenged, "did you ever act in any manner except for your own interest?"

"You are insulting! Insolent!" Mr. Burmaster snapped. "But I'll not be drawn into an argument with you. Good morning!"

Quigley blocked the door. "Not so fast," he drawled. "Matter of fact, I was on my way to your house. Saw your car standing in Mrs. Lear's yard, so I figured you were here."

"If you have a telegram for me I'll take it."

"The only message I have is a verbal one," answered Quigley. "Our mayor from Delta, Bradley Mason, asked me to talk to you about the Huntley Dam."

"The subject doesn't interest me."