The next morning, over a breakfast of cold cereal, the children discussed the latest mysterious events.
“The two people arguing must have been Marianne and her mother,” Jessie said. “They are the only two women here.”
“Don’t forget Old Gert,” said Benny.
Violet frowned. “But why would Gert argue with one of the Harringtons? She never leaves her mountain.”
“I’ve been thinking,” said Henry. “Besides Grandfather, Victor Lacey and Mr. Williams both have their own rental cars. Maybe they drove into Beaverton and brought someone back with them.”
Jessie looked at him. “Are you saying the ghost might be somebody we haven’t met at Eagles Nest?”
“It’s a possibility,” said Henry. “At least the electricity is back on. Did anyone hear a power truck last night?”
No one had. It was so quiet at Eagles Nest, they would have heard a large truck rumbling up the road.
Grandfather joined them then. “Ahhh. Thank heaven for hot coffee!”
“And hot chocolate!” said Benny.
True to his word, Grandfather had visited a store in Beaverton. He’d brought back chips, cookies, fruit, raisins, juices, and packets of cocoa.
The others entered the dining hall.
As always, Victor Lacey was in a cheerful mood. “Great morning for fishing!”
Mr. Williams only nodded curtly and sat away from the group.
When Marianne came in to pour their coffee, Corey jumped up and asked if he could help.
“You’re a guest,” Marianne told him.
Looking downcast, Corey took his seat again.
Benny listened intently to the exchange. Was Marianne the whisperer outside their cabin the night before? Or was she the one with the shrill voice? It was hard to tell.
“I have an idea,” announced Mr. Lacey. “Why don’t you Aldens come fishing with me this morning?”
“I didn’t bring my fishing gear,” said Grandfather.
Mrs. Harrington came in to clear the bowls. “You can borrow my husband’s rod. And the children can use the one a guest left behind. But don’t expect much luck.”
“I haven’t caught a minnow since I’ve been here,” Mr. Williams said. “I thought Tincup Creek was a gold-medal stream.”
“What’s that?” asked Jessie.
“It means it should be teeming with trout,” Mr. Williams replied, heaving himself away from his meager breakfast.
Outside the dining hall two rods leaned against the log siding. Fishing tackle boxes — one new, one old — sat below.
Mr. Williams, who had walked out with them, took a bamboo rod and the beat-up tackle box. He stalked down the path alone.
“Don’t you guys fish together?” Benny asked Victor.
The younger man shook his head. “Mr. Williams always fishes by himself.”
Henry noticed Victor’s metal rod and shiny tackle box. “That’s a cool rod.”
“Yeah, it’s a beaut. The metal is titanium.”
Henry also admired the wide belt around Victor’s waist that carried pliers, a towel, and a holder for the rod. By comparison, Mr. Williams’s old vest looked outdated.
The path divided at the banks of Tincup Creek. Mr. Williams went upstream. Victor led the Aldens downstream.
“Hope they’re biting today,” he said.
So did Benny. If they caught some fish, they’d have a good dinner that night.
First Victor showed them how to cast the line into the water. “It’s all in the wrist,” he instructed.
Grandfather caught on quickly. So did Henry. Then Benny gave it a try. The children laughed when Benny’s line got caught on a tree branch behind them!
Next they waded out into the creek. Mrs. Harrington had issued them all rubber boots. The water wasn’t very deep, but it was chilly.
Victor splashed noisily through the stream, heading for a good sunny spot.
Way downstream, Henry could see Robert Williams wading slowly. The older man put each foot down quietly.
“This looks promising,” Victor said, casting his line.
After everyone had cast a few times, Victor talked about the lures used in trout fishing.
“Trout will eat anything that looks like an insect,” he said. His own vest displayed brightly colored feathered lures with hooks.
After about an hour, Henry caught a fish! Victor helped him reel in the baby brown trout.
“Way to go!” Victor praised, netting the fish.
Henry stared at the small fish struggling in the net. “It’s too small. I want to turn him loose.” He and Grandfather gently eased the hook from the trout’s mouth and watched him swim away.
“There goes dinner!” Benny said mournfully.
“One little fish wouldn’t feed all of us,” Grandfather said. “I’m sure Mrs. Harrington will have a good supper tonight.”
Jessie wasn’t so sure. If the owner fixed a good supper, it would be the first time since they arrived.
Back on the bank, Victor packed up his gear. “Let’s you and I talk business,” he said to Grandfather.
“All right,” Grandfather agreed.
“May we stay?” Jessie asked, pulling off her rubber boots. “We’d like to explore.”
“Yes, but don’t wander too far,” said Grandfather.
The two men walked up the path toward Eagles Nest.
Leaving their boots, the kids strolled upstream.
“There’s Mr. Williams,” Violet said.
The man stood stock-still in the shady shallows near a rocky outcropping. He cast expertly, his lead sinker plopping into the water with scarcely a ripple.
Benny waved, but Mr. Williams didn’t look up. “Why is he so grouchy?” he asked.
“Fishermen are serious about their sport,” Henry replied.
“He’s grouchy when he’s not fishing,” Jessie pointed out.
“Maybe he’s disappointed with Eagles Nest,” suggested Violet. “The place hardly lives up to its claims.”
As they walked farther upstream, the children were struck by the wild, unspoiled beauty of the land.
“I wish we knew why Mr. Lacey said Grandfather’s property is worthless,” Jessie said. “It’s perfect.”
Just then something hit Benny on the shin.
“Ouch!” he cried, hopping on one foot.
Violet examined his leg. “You’ve got a little scrape. It’ll be okay. What did you bump into?”
They searched through the long grass and found a wooden stake. Tied to the stake was a taut length of white nylon cord. They followed the cord to the edge of the stream, where it disappeared underwater.
Kneeling on the wet stones, Henry tugged at the white cord. “There’s a net on the end of this.”
“A net?” Jessie questioned.
“Yeah, like a badminton net,” Henry said. “It’s tied on the other side, too.”
Violet frowned. “Why would there be a net across the creek?”
“The net acts like a dam,” Henry explained. “I bet it’s holding back most of the trout. That’s why Mr. Williams can’t catch any fish. They’re all trapped up here.”
Jessie glanced downstream, thinking about Mr. Williams. At breakfast he had mentioned Tincup Creek was a gold-medal stream, yet Mrs. Harrington insisted the creek was all fished out. Why were the trout being penned way upstream?
Something was definitely fishy at Eagles Nest.
“What did Mr. Lacey want?” Henry asked Grandfather.
It was late afternoon. The children hadn’t been able to speak to their grandfather until then. They were all sitting in the rockers on the dining hall porch.
James Alden paused before he spoke. “He offered double his original offer for my property.”
“Why is he so anxious to buy your land?” asked Jessie.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” said Grandfather. “Why don’t we visit our town again. Maybe the answer is there.”
“We might see Rose’s ghost!” Benny said, jumping up.
“Now, Benny,” Grandfather said gently. “What have we said about ghosts?”
Deep inside, he knew Grandfather was right. But who was the mysterious Lady in Gray?
The Aldens went inside to ask to borrow Mrs. Harrington’s Jeep.
“Going to Tincup again, eh?” she remarked, handing over the keys.
“I think we’ll visit some buildings this time,” said Grandfather. “Show the children a bit of history.”
It was nearly sundown when they parked the Jeep and hiked down the wagon road into town.
Grandfather repeated his earlier warning. “Remember, these buildings may look okay, but be careful where you step.”
They went into the dry goods store.
“Check this out!” said Henry, awestruck.
Barrels stood by the high, dusty counter. Behind the counter, shelves climbed to the ceiling. The shelves were empty, but Henry could imagine them stocked with canned food, bolts of fabric, tools, boots, and dozens of other items.
“It’s spooky in here,” Violet whispered. “I feel like I’m in the wrong time or something.”
Jessie nodded. “Like people dressed in old-fashioned outfits will come in any second.”
“That’s the magic of old buildings,” said Grandfather. “They let us experience a true sense of history.”
As they headed back outside, Jessie cried, “Look! There she is!”
A figure glided ahead of them, toward the sinking sun. She wore the same gray dress and gray shawl.
“It’s the ghost of Rose Payne!” Benny gasped.
“There aren’t any ghosts!” Grandfather said. “Ma’am!” he called out. “Please stop! Ma’am!”
Everyone chased after the ghost.
But the woman rounded the corner of the last building in town, Anderson’s Hotel. By the time the Aldens reached the corner, the street was empty.
“She’s gone,” said Henry. “Vanished.”
“Nonsense,” stated Grandfather. “People don’t vanish.”
“But ghosts do,” said Benny. |