Death at Costin's Creek
Scotty checked the map and examined the terrain below. "That's
Manassas," he confirmed. "Swing to the south now, on a bearing of 183
degrees."
Rick banked the Sky Wagon onto a new course, then settled down to locate
the landmarks Barby and Jan had noted on the road map enclosed with
their letter.
The Sky Wagon had, until recently, been equipped with pontoons for water
landing. Rick had outfitted it originally for a skin-diving trip to the
Virgin Islands, an adventure now known as _The Wailing Octopus_. The
pontoons were so useful that he had left them on, until his new science
project had made it necessary to go back and forth between Newark and
the island for consultation with a laboratory in the city. He was glad
now that he had changed back to wheels. It had made it possible for him
and Scotty to leave the morning after Barby's urgent letter arrived.
The four-seater plane was actually Rick's second. The first, his beloved
Cub, had been bought and paid for by his own efforts, serving as taxi
for the scientists and as the island's shopping service. When the Cub
was wrecked, as described in _Stairway to Danger_, the reward for
capture of a criminal and his loot had made it possible to buy a larger
and more powerful plane.
Rick consulted his watch. "We must be pretty nearly there."
"We are," Scotty confirmed. He consulted the map again. "There's the
cluster of buildings on top of the mountain Barby circled. It's either a
weather station or a radar installation. Start losing altitude after we
go over it. The town of Lansdale should be in sight by then."
Scotty's navigation proved excellent as usual. Shortly after passing the
mountaintop Rick saw the town, obviously a very small one, and
immediately swung slightly north again. The glint of water caught his
eye and he said excitedly, "There's Costin's Creek. It has to be. No
other water in sight."
He lost altitude rapidly, finally leveling off a thousand feet above the
creek. Scotty, peering ahead, saw the ground signal first. "There's the
panel of white towels, ahead and to the right, on my side. Swing and
you'll see it."
Rick did so. He spotted the panel at once, with four figures standing
next to it. In a moment they were in plain sight, waving as the plane
passed overhead. Rick did a wing over that took the plane back over the
area. This time he watched the terrain carefully, while Scotty did the
same.
"Looks good," Rick said. "See any rough spots?"
"Nope. It's a hayfield, fresh cut, from the looks of it. Should be okay.
The leaves on the trees across the creek aren't moving, so wind
shouldn't be a problem."
"Okay. Here we go." Rick turned into his landing pattern, losing
altitude rapidly. The field was a big one, so he had plenty of room. In
a moment the Sky Wagon touched down, bumping only a little as it rolled
across the field. He taxied to where the girls and the Millers were
waiting, and killed the engine.
Barby and Jan were up on the wing before the boys had a chance even to
unbuckle seat belts. Both girls were obviously excited, and both started
to talk the moment Rick opened the cabin door.
He looked from one to the other trying to make sense out of the stream
of words. Barby's blue eyes sparkled, as did Jan's brown ones. Both were
intent on having their say, and as a result, the boys understood
neither.
Not until hands had been shaken all around did the excited chatter of
the girls begin to make sense. Apparently the very field where the boys
had just landed was haunted. The ghost had walked this ground on more
than one occasion, the latest being last night, with dogs howling and
men running from the ghostly sight.
Dr. Miller finally quieted the two down. "Let's tell our tale in good
order, or we'll simply confuse our visiting detectives. Come on, boys.
Let's go to the house. We have some lunch waiting."
The boys collected their bags, then set up the plane's alarm system. It
consisted of an electrified fence that would set off a loud klaxon horn
if touched. The plane itself would also trigger the alarm if touched.
The alarm could be stopped only by inserting the key in the locked door.
As the group walked from the plane to the Miller house, Rick checked his
impressions with the view from the air. The house, and the field on
which he had landed, were on the north side of the creek. A half mile
below the house, the dirt road leading to the Miller farm crossed the
creek on an old military Bailey bridge. Across the creek the road
vanished into a forest that came right down to the creek's edge.
Rick knew from his overhead view that the forest was only a hundred
yards wide along the creek. Beyond it were more fields, interspersed
with patches of trees and a few uncultivated areas that were too rocky
for farming.
It was a lovely countryside, and Rick enjoyed it. The Miller house was
in an orchard on which a bumper crop of Virginia apples already was in
evidence.
The house itself had once been a large farmhouse. The Millers had
remodeled it, keeping the charm of the old while adding the convenience
of the new. Rick felt at home right away, and he saw that Scotty did,
too.
Over an excellent lunch of charcoal-broiled hamburgers, salad, and iced
tea, Dr. Miller asked, "Who's going to tell the tale?"
Both girls started talking at once. Mrs. Miller, an attractive, stylish
woman, raised her hands. "Please! Jan, suppose you start with the
history of the ghost. Then, Barby, you take over and tell what we saw
the other night."
"All right, Mother," Jan began. "The ghost isn't new, you see. We've had
a blue ghost here for centuries!"
Rick's eyebrows went up. "A _blue_ ghost?"
"Yes. You'll see why in a moment. Anyway, we all knew about the ghost,
sort of, and some people were supposed to have seen it. Only it was the
kind of story where you never met anyone who had actually seen the
ghost. There were only people who knew people who knew people who had
seen the ghost. If you follow me?"
Rick grinned. "We do."
Jan's dark eyes sparkled. "Then, just before we came down from
Spindrift, over a hundred people saw the ghost, and it was just as the
legend tells."
Scotty asked, "So this isn't just any old ghost, it's a legendary one?"
Jan nodded. "We even know its name. It's Seth Costin. He's the one that
the creek was named for. But I'm getting ahead of myself. You see, this
region was a battleground in the Civil War. Mosby's Raiders spent a lot
of time around here. Well, when the war turned against the South, a
squadron of Union cavalry came down under Captain Seth Costin, and they
got into a battle with some of Jeb Stuart's men right in our orchard and
field. They fought up and down the creek, with the South trying to keep
the Union from crossing. Finally, Captain Costin crossed, but the creek
was red with blood, the story goes."
"A real gory legend," Scotty murmured.
Both Jan and Barby glared at him. "Sorry," he muttered contritely.
"It's a very romantic story," Barby said tartly.
Rick and the Millers suppressed smiles.
"Anyway," Jan went on, "the creek has been known as Costin's Creek ever
since. Well, Captain Costin quartered his men in the town. You know how
it was. He stayed at the home of Squire Lansdale, who was by then a
Confederate general. The squire had a daughter, whose name was Ellen,
and she was perfectly beautiful. The squire also had two sons, who were
a little too young for joining the Army, but not too young to cause
trouble."
Rick could see where the story led. He asked, "Was Captain Costin a
handsome young man, by any chance?"
"He most certainly was," Jan said emphatically. "He was terribly
romantic. Wait until you see him."
Rick could hardly wait, but he didn't comment.
"Of course the captain and Ellen fell in love."
Rick could imagine.
"But along came Jeb Stuart's whole cavalry and they pushed Captain
Costin's squadron all the way back to Manassas, and then they occupied
the area. But Captain Costin couldn't stand not seeing his Ellen, so he
somehow got a message to her, to meet him at the mine."
It was the first Rick had heard of a mine. He asked, "Can I ask a
question? Where is this mine and what kind is it?"
"The mine is right across the creek, just beyond the bridge," Jan
explained. "We could see it from here if the trees weren't there.
Anyway, it's where the town picnic ground is located now, on our
property, partly. It used to be a lead mine, and during the Civil War a
lot of Southern bullets came from there."
From Jan's tone of voice, Rick suspected that her sympathies were with
the lost Southern cause, which was natural enough, since her ancestry
was pure Virginian for several generations.
"The mine wasn't worked on Sunday, in those days, and Captain Costin
asked Ellen to meet him on a Sunday night at nine o'clock. Well, the
Lansdale boys somehow found out where their sister was going, and they
went, too. And they shot down Captain Costin in cold blood, right at the
mine entrance. Just when he was holding out his arms to greet his
sweetheart!"
Jan obviously didn't like this part of the legend, Rick thought.
"So that's how the ghost began," Jan concluded. "After making his way
through practically the whole Confederate cavalry, he was shot down at
our mine before he could even say hello to her! No wonder he haunts the
place!"
"How about all the soldiers killed in the fighting?" Scotty asked,
straight-faced. "Don't they haunt the place, too?"
"We've heard that some people have seen more than one ghost," Jan said,
"but we don't credit secondhand stories much. We only saw the captain."
Rick must have looked pretty incredulous, he suspected, because Barby
gave him an accusing glance and stated flatly, "And we did see the
captain, Rick Brant! Didn't we?"
The Millers all nodded. "Tell them," Mrs. Miller suggested.
Barby picked up the tale. "We were all invited to a cook-out the other
night. It was given by the Lansdale Garden Club and Mrs. Miller is a
member. I guess it's planned long in advance, so they couldn't call it
off or go somewhere else, so it was held. There must have been at least
fifty people there."
Rick made a mental note to ask for elaboration of Barby's statement
about canceling the event or holding it somewhere else.
"The barbecue pits are close to the old mine entrance, where the ghost
always appears because that's where the captain was shot. Anyway,
everything went well until nearly nine, and that was when we all began
to get nervous."
Shot at nine, reappears at nine, Rick guessed. Strange ghost. Usually
apparitions are supposed to appear at midnight.
"I didn't really expect anything," Barby went on, "because who believes
in ghosts anyway?" She shuddered. "At least I didn't then. But at nine
someone let out a scream, and we looked, and there was a white mist
rising above the mine, and then the Blue Ghost appeared right in the
mist, and it was awful." She ran out of breath and paused.
"It really was," Mrs. Miller said quietly. "Go on, Barby."
"Well, the ghost was a handsome young officer in a blue uniform, the
Civil War kind. And he held out his hands, and he looked so ... so
appealing. And then he suddenly put his hands on his chest, and when he
pulled them away they were all ... all bloody."
Barby gulped. Rick shot a quick glance at the Millers. They were
nodding. So all had seen the same thing, then.
"Anyway, he faded away then, and only the white mist was left. But
honestly, it was ... well, it was so real! And the whole thing was blue,
sort of, except for the ... the blood. That was red." Barby finished
whitely, "It kind of broke up the picnic."
Rick could imagine. Great galloping ghouls! What had happened? He
couldn't believe the ghost was real, but Barby and the Millers were
obviously convinced.
"Incredible," Scotty muttered. "That's some yarn!"
Rick agreed. "I want to see this Blue Ghost," he stated.
Dr. Miller smiled. "You both look rather doubting. I must admit that I
don't believe in ghosts. My entire scientific training rejects the
explanation. But let me assure you, we saw a genuine apparition just as
Barby described it, and I can offer no reasonable hypothesis. I have
thoroughly inspected the area, and there is no physical evidence I have
been able to see."
Rick digested this statement. His first thought, of course, had been
that the ghost was somehow man-made. He still didn't reject the idea,
but Dr. Miller's comments made it clear that the source of the ghost at
least wasn't obvious.
"When do we see this ghost?" Rick asked.
Dr. Miller replied, "How about tonight?"
A sudden chill of premonition wormed its icy way up Rick's spine. "That
will be fine," he said shakily.