The Mystery of the Singing Serpent - M. V. Carey [2]
“Did they scare you?” asked the girl. Her hands went up to stroke the horse’s mane.
Aunt Mathilda appeared at the top of the road. “Jupiter? Pete? Bob? What’s going on?”
The Jamison girl patted the horse again, reached up to grasp the saddle and tried to mount. The horse took a step backward.
“Hold it for her, Pete,” said Jupe. “I’ll give her a hand.”
“I don’t need a hand!” snapped the girl.
Aunt Mathilda came down the road. She stared at Allie Jamison — at the tangle of hair, the torn jeans, the bleeding knee. “What happened?”
“They scared my horse,” said the girl.
“And she fell off,” added Pete.
“It was an accident,” said Jupe.
“I see. Jupiter, go and tell your Uncle Titus to bring one of the trucks. I’ll drive Miss Jamison home so she can have that knee attended to.”
“I don’t need anyone to drive me home,” said Allie Jamison.
“The truck, Jupiter,” said Aunt Mathilda. “And Pete, you hold the reins on that horse.”
“Does it bite?” asked Pete.
“Certainly not,” declared Aunt Mathilda, who really knew very little about the subject.
“Horses don’t bite. They kick.”
“Oh, great!” groaned Pete.
Chapter 2
The Night Visitor
WHEN BOB, PETE AND JUPITER led the Appaloosa up to the Jamison house, the truck from the salvage yard was standing in the brick driveway. Aunt Mathilda and the Jamison girl were nowhere to be seen.
Pete looked at the massive pillars that supported the roof over the veranda. “Too bad Aunt Mathilda didn’t wear her hoop skirt today,” he said.
Jupiter chuckled. “It does look like an old Southern mansion,” he conceded.
“A big old Southern mansion,” said Bob. “Where do you suppose we find the horse department?”
Pete pointed toward the rear of the property. “There’s a field with a fence around it.”
“Fine,” said Jupe. They led the mare up the drive, past a flagstone patio which was shaded by a wisteria vine.
Behind the house, the brick driveway fanned out to become a courtyard. Next to the fenced field was a triple garage. One double door stood open, and inside there was a stall.
Pieces of tackle hung from pegs on the walls.
The back door of the house opened and Marie, the maid, looked out. “Boys, would you take the saddle off Indian Queen and let her into the field? Then come in. Miss Osborne wants to see you.”
Marie disappeared into the house, closing the door behind her.
Pete looked at the mare. “Indian Queen?”
“I believe Allie Jamison calls her Queenie,” said Jupe. “That’s what Marie told Aunt Mathilda.”
“Who’s Miss Osborne?” asked Bob.
“She’s the aunt who’s staying here while Mr. and Mrs. Jamison are in Europe,” Jupe told him. “According to Marie, she’s rather peculiar.”
“Peculiar how?”
“I don’t know exactly, but Marie thinks there’s something odd about her. If we’re going to meet her, we can judge for ourselves.”
Jupe removed the mare’s saddle. Bob opened the gate to the field, and the horse trotted into the grass beyond the fence. Jupe found a stand in the garage for the saddle and a peg for the bridle. Then the boys opened the back door of the house and stepped directly into a huge, sunny kitchen.
They went through the kitchen to a wide central hall with a staircase. To the left was the dining room, and the boys looked out past the crystal drops of the famous chandelier to the wisteria-shaded patio. To the right of the hall was the living room which was all green-gold paleness. Beyond the living room, a door opened onto a paneled room lined with books.
Allie Jamison was in the living room stretched out on a sofa with a towel under her leg.
Beside her sat a woman who might have been Aunt Mathilda’s age, or perhaps a bit older.
She wore a long gown of purple velvet, trimmed at the throat with a band of silver. Her hair was a delicate shade of lavender.
“Aunt Pat, Mom will kill me if I bleed on the sofa,” said Allie. “Look, I’ll go upstairs and …”
“Now dear, just lie still. You’ve had a shock.” The woman did not look up at the boys, and Jupe saw that her hands shook as she cut the leg of the girl’s jeans up from the ankle.
“Oh, my. It