A Ghost at Stallion's Gate Read Online Free PDF Page B

different nature than what is under consideration.” He looked at me. “Your turn, where did you hear that saying?”
    “Rory told me that he is a horse of a different color,” I said without further explanation.
    “Rory?” Josh set his plate aside and lightly drummed the fingers of his left hand on the table surface. He looked at me with an expression of concern.
    “Yes, Rory. That’s the name of the Clydesdale hitched to the hansom cab, in the trophy room.”
     
    Chapter 7
    “Whoa. Shannon, you mean to tell me, that horse appeared to you? As a ghost?”
    I looked at Josh and tried to read his reaction. Was he surprised and shocked? Or just surprised? I nodded my head, “Yes, in a manner of speaking. But Josh, I’m not in danger.”
    “How would you know?” He was serious again, dead serious and I could tell I wasn’t going to get away with a simple explanation. 
    It was my turn to lean over the table and whisper in a tone of high conspiracy. “Look, this isn’t the place for me to tell you about it. Let’s go back to Stallion’s Gate and on the way there I’ll clue you in. And when we get there, I want you to return with me to the trophy room. Okay?”
    Josh got up and grabbed the check. “I’ll pay for this and then I’m calling Grandpa. I’ll meet you at the truck.”
    Before I could object to involving Francisco at this early stage of the mystery, Josh shooed me out the door of Kathleen’s.
    We were at Stallion’s Gate in fifteen minutes, standing in the trophy room. Josh walked over to Rory, the stuffed Rory, and not the ghost horse. I stood in place at the entrance. I insisted on keeping the door open wide, just in case, of what I wasn’t sure. Josh walked slowly around the horse, thoughtfully studying it and the carriage. He walked back to where I stood.
    “The taxidermist was an expert. Except for minor fading here and there, the horse is in really good shape,” Josh said.
    “Have you seen many stuffed horses?” I questioned, wondering how rare they are.
    He grinned and said, “Would you believe, I saw Roy Rogers’s horse Trigger. He died sometime in the 1960s and was then stuffed. He was over thirty years old. It seems to me that Roy Rogers had his dog stuffed too, I don’t remember. Anyway, Grandpa and I went out to the Roy Rogers and Dale Evans Museum before it was moved to Missouri, I think that was in the 1990s. It was located out in the high desert of San Bernardino County, near Victorville.”
    “No Way! Roy Rogers stuffed Trigger? I find that hard to believe.”
    “Believe it,” the voice behind us said. We turned. Francisco was here.
    “Grandpa, you got here in record time.” Josh gave Francisco a hug and then it was my turn.
    “I’m so glad to see you. I thought you were in San Diego,” I said.
    “I drove in last night to visit with my sister Teresa.” Francisco smiled and he looked so handsome, decked out in khaki slacks and a pale yellow polo shirt. Even in the heat of summer, Francisco Zavala looked unflappable.
    “And I suppose, Josh hasn’t said a word to you regarding my suspicions about Stallion’s Gate?” I asked.
    Francisco laughed. “Not so much a word. In truth, his commentary was ushered in whispered sentences. I had to come see for myself.”
    Our attention was drawn back to the display of Rory and his carriage. Francisco broke the spell. “That horse is a fine specimen.” He looked around at the numerous heads mounted on the walls. “All these horses were the top racers in their day. I did a little research last night, mostly just word of mouth from long time residents in Pasadena and all of them say that Reggie Coover was passionate about his horses.”
    I turned to Francisco and asked, “So, given that even Roy Rogers had his horse stuffed, then, mounting and displaying horses wasn’t considered bizarre?” I looked at him, knowing he would not sugarcoat an answer.
    “Eccentric, maybe. It would seem especially eccentric to the middle