Mystery of the Runaway Ghost (2 page)

“As a matter of fact, she was the very first cow they ever owned,” Fran replied.

Benny looked over at the painting. “Oh, I get it!” he said. “That’s why the bell around her neck has the number one on it, right?”

“That’s exactly right,” Fran told him. “Selden and Anne were very fond of their black-and-white cow. She was more like a family pet than anything else. It’s little wonder they were heartbroken when she disappeared.”

“What …?” Violet cried out in surprise. “How did Buttercup disappear?”

Fran shook her head sadly. “It happened in the winter of 1859.”

The Aldens inched closer. They wanted to catch every word.

“One day, Buttercup wandered too far from the barn and she was caught in a blizzard. It was a terrible snowstorm. The poor thing couldn’t find her way home,” Fran said.

“Your ancestors went looking for her, didn’t they?” Henry asked.

“Selden went out again and again, but the icy winds and the blinding snow kept driving him back. Finally, there was nothing left to do but wait out the storm. And by the time the snow stopped, it was too late.”

Benny’s eyes were huge. “Too late?”

“They never did find their treasured pet.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, Fran added, “Buttercup had disappeared without a trace.”

“How sad!” said Violet, who was taking a closer look at the painting of Buttercup.

Jessie came up behind her sister. “Well, at least Selden and Anne had a picture to — ”

“Oh, my goodness, look!” Violet broke in as something caught her eye.

Curious, Henry joined his sisters by the fireplace. Benny was close behind.

“What’s up?” Henry asked.

Violet pointed to the date next to the artist’s signature in a corner of the painting. “It’s the strangest thing.”

“Oh!” Jessie’s eyebrows shot up when she saw the date. “This painting was made in 1866. But … Buttercup disappeared in 1859. Didn’t she, Fran?”

“That’s right, Jessie. A friend of my great-great-grandparents painted that picture seven years
after
Buttercup disappeared.”

“Was he painting from memory?” Violet asked.

Fran shook her head. “The artist had never been to Shadowbox until after the cow disappeared.”

Benny gulped. “That’s a … a painting of Buttercup’s
ghost
?”

“Yes, it is, Benny,” Fran said with a nod.

“How can that be?” Jessie couldn’t believe it.

Henry added, “You don’t really mean that, do you, Fran? You
can’t
believe the artist painted a ghost.”

“Maybe he painted a different cow,” Violet offered as they sat down again. “Another black-and-white cow that looked a lot like Buttercup.”

“But that doesn’t explain the bell with the number one on it,” Fran pointed out. “And there’s something else,” she added. “They say the artist was just putting the finishing touches on his painting when the black-and-white cow suddenly disappeared. It was almost as if…” She stopped midsentence.

“As if … what?” Benny asked in a whisper.

“As if the cow had vanished — just like that!” Fran said, with a snap of her fingers.

No one spoke for a moment. Then Henry said, “Has anyone else seen the runaway ghost?”

Fran smoothed down the collar of her dress. “In the old days, there were many sightings reported by family members. Sometimes visitors even heard the ghostly clanging of a cowbell late in the night. I’ve never heard it myself. I’m afraid I sleep much too soundly for that. It’s been ages since the runaway ghost has been around.”

Benny looked relieved.

As Fran turned her attention back to the painting, a funny look came over her face. “I’ve had the strangest feeling lately,” she said, “that Buttercup’s trying to tell me something.”

The Aldens were startled. “Why do you say that, Fran?” Jessie wanted to know.

“Because of the mystery, Jessie,” Fran explained. “I’m talking, of course, about the one that fell into my lap.”

“Does the mystery have something to do with Buttercup?” Henry asked in surprise.

“That’s one of the things I hope you’ll figure out,” Fran answered. Then she quickly changed the subject. “But now it’s time for you to see the rest of the house.”

As the Aldens followed Fran out of the room, Violet turned to look over her shoulder. She didn’t really believe in ghosts, but she couldn’t help wondering about that painting above the fireplace.

“Do you think it’s true?” Benny asked his brother and sisters. He was standing at the window in the lace-and-lavender room that Violet and Jessie were sharing. The children had finished unpacking and were waiting for Violet to put more film in her camera.

Jessie, who was brushing her long brown hair, looked over at her younger brother. “What do you mean, Benny?”

Benny plopped down on Jessie’s bed. “Do you think Buttercup really
is
trying to tell Fran something?”

“No.” Henry shook his head firmly. “Ghosts don’t exist, Benny.” But the youngest Alden didn’t look convinced.

Violet looked up. “You must admit, Henry it’s awfully strange about that painting.”

Benny was quick to agree. “How could the artist paint Buttercup’s picture seven years after she disappeared?”

Henry shrugged. “That’s a good question.”

“I don’t understand it, either,” put in Jessie, as the four of them made their way downstairs. “But there must be a logical explanation for it.”

“Like what?” demanded Benny.

None of them had an answer to that question.

“Something sure smells good!” Henry said, as they trooped into the kitchen.

Fran was humming to herself as she took the biscuits out of the oven. “I made my special meatballs in mushroom sauce.” The table was already set for dinner, and she gestured for the children to sit down. “I’m hoping it’ll hit the spot.”

“Grandfather told us you’re a great cook, Fran,” Jessie said, taking a seat next to Benny.

“Oh, I just follow the old family recipes, Jessie,” Fran said. “Selden’s wife, Anne, brought most of them with her from St. Ives.”

“St. Ives?” said Henry.

“That was the name of Anne’s hometown in England.” Fran set a dish of mashed potatoes on the table.

“It must’ve been hard for Anne to leave her hometown,” Violet said. Violet was shy, and meeting new people often made her nervous.

Fran pulled up a chair. “I imagine Anne
was
homesick at first, but she loved Selden, and she never regretted her new life in Wisconsin.”

Just then, a voice behind them made the children turn around quickly in surprise.

“Sorry I’m late.” A slim young woman came rushing into the room. She was dressed in a sleeveless blouse and a brightly flowered skirt. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

Fran smiled warmly. “We only just sat down, Lottie.” She quickly introduced the Aldens to her boarder, Lottie Brighton.

“A newlywed couple came into the gallery just as I was leaving,” Lottie explained, after saying hello to everyone. “They were eager for a sketch.” She slipped into the empty seat beside Henry. “What could I do? I needed the extra money.”

Seeing the children’s slightly puzzled faces, Fran said, “Lottie has a job at one of the local galleries in Cedarburg. She draws sketches of the tourists who come to town.”

That sounded like fun to Violet. “Oh, you must love going to work every day, Lottie!” Violet liked to sketch and draw, and she was good at it, too.

Lottie placed a napkin over her lap. “Yes, I
do
enjoy it, and it’s good practice,” she said. “I just wish it paid more.”

“Lottie’s putting herself through art school,” Fran explained.

“At the rate I’m going, I’ll never have enough money for the fall term.” Lottie frowned as she put green beans on her plate.

“I know what it’s like to be on a tight budget, Lottie.” Fran placed a comforting hand on the young woman’s arm. “It isn’t easy, but you’ll find a way.”

“Grandfather always says, ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way,’ ” Benny said, then went back to wolfing down meatballs.

Lottie nodded. “Yes, sometimes you have to do whatever it takes,” she said, “even if…” Her words trailed away in a sigh.

Henry watched her expectantly, but Lottie didn’t finish the sentence.

Just after Benny had eaten the last meatball, there was a soft tapping on the kitchen door. Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Fran hurried to answer it.

A suntanned woman with a cheery smile was standing on the doorstep. She was dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, and her thick dark curls were held back from her face with a white headband. At her elbow was a girl about Violet’s age, holding a pie.

“Well, look who’s here!” Fran stepped aside to usher in the new arrivals. Then she introduced everyone to her neighbors, Cora Roback and her daughter, Reese.

“We made a special welcome-to-Cedarburg dessert,” Reese said, smiling over at the Aldens. “Ghost pie!” She held it up.

Benny’s mouth dropped open. “Did you say
ghost
pie?”

“Don’t worry, Benny.” Cora laughed. “It’s really just plain old apple pie.”

“But guess what?” added Reese, who had the same dark hair and big brown eyes as her mother. “It’s so delicious that it disappears — just like that!” She snapped her fingers exactly as Fran had done. “That’s why we call it — ”

“Ghost pie!” everyone cried out.

“What a perfect way to end our meal!” Fran said as she set the pie on the counter.

Jessie gave Reese a friendly smile. “I’m glad I left room for dessert.”

“The meatballs hit the spot,” put in Benny, “but I’ve still got a
big
spot left for ghost pie.”

“Count me in, too,” added Henry. Violet nodded.

“Cora owns an antique store in town,” Fran informed the Aldens. “She also writes articles for a local magazine. Right now, she’s working on one about Shadowbox and the other old homes of Cedarburg.”

“Oh!” Henry said. “I can’t wait to read all about the runaway ghost.”

“Oh, yes!” Fran rubbed her hands together with pleasure. “The family ghost will get quite a write-up, I’m sure. I mean, how can it miss?”

Jessie couldn’t help noticing that Cora shifted uncomfortably.

“The problem is —” Cora began to say. But Fran interrupted.

“If you need more information, Cora, just let me know. I’ll fill you in on all the ghostly details.”

Cora held up a hand. “You might as well know, Fran,” she told her, “I decided not to mention the runaway ghost in the article.”

“What was that?” There was a look of shock on Fran’s face.

“Well, there haven’t been any sightings in years, right? And even the ones from long ago were probably staged — you know, to entertain the guests. The whole idea of a ghost cow seems a bit … far-fetched. Don’t you think?” Cora suddenly seemed unable to look Fran in the eye.

“Far-fetched?” Fran stiffened.

Lottie offered an opinion. “I agree with Cora. An article like that should stick to the facts.”

Cora nodded. “Exactly!” she said. “The facts and nothing
but
the facts.”

“People would laugh if you mentioned a ghost cow,” added Lottie. “You mustn’t even consider such a thing, Cora.”

Jessie caught Henry’s eye. Why was Lottie butting in? The article had nothing to do with her.

“I want this article to be taken seriously,” Cora added.

“I see.” Fran looked as if she wanted to argue, but she didn’t.

Violet didn’t like to see the disappointment on Fran’s face. She just had to say something. “But … the runaway ghost is a part of the history of Shadowbox. That story goes all the way back to the 1850s!”

Reese turned to her mother. “Violet’s right. You can’t write about Shadowbox and not mention the runaway ghost. They go together like … like ghost pie and ice cream!”

Cora frowned. “Reese, please!” She gave her daughter a warning look. “You’re not helping matters.”

“I’m sure you know best, Cora,” Fran said, forcing a smile. “No reason for anyone to be upset.” But it was plain that Fran
was
upset.

“Sure nice to meet everyone!” Cora was already steering her daughter toward the door. She suddenly seemed eager to get away. “See you later.”