The Ghosts of the Irish Setter and the Missing Hiker

By Dawn Colclasure and TBD

There’s something different about Sarah Town. It’s brimming with ghosts–and some of those ghosts need help! That’s where the GHOST Group comes in–the Ghost Helpers of Sarah Town. The GHOST Group is made up of five 11-year-old team members: Jesse, Jenny, Ryan, Trent, and Cassie.

The Ghost of the Irish Setter is

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gypsy Shadow Publishing
• Release date: Mar 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781619505513

Dawn Colclasure

Dawn Colclasure is the author of five books, among them BURNING THE MIDNIGHT OIL: How We Survive as Writing Parents and 365 TIPS FOR WRITERS: Inspiration, Writing Prompts and Beat The Block Tips to Turbo Charge Your Creativity. Her articles, essays, poems, book reviews and short stories have been published in regional and national newspapers and magazines, as well as online. She lives and writes in Oregon with her husband and children.

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The GHOST Group Book Two

The Ghost of the Irish Setter

and

The Ghost of the Missing Hiker

by

Dawn Colclasure

All rights reserved

Copyright © February 5, 2014, Dawn Colclasure

Cover Art Copyright © 2014, Manon Daniels

Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

Lockhart, TX

www.gypsyshadow.com

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

ISBN: 978-1-61950-551-3

Published in the United States of America

First eBook Edition: May 1, 2014

Dedication

For my son, Jesse Wilson, with love

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to my daughter, Jennifer Wilson, for granting me permission to include her St. Patrick's Day song in The Ghost of the Irish Setter.

The Ghost of the Irish Setter

Chapter One

Close Call

If there was one thing that could be said about Deanna Foster, it was this: She was not much of a cook. Jenny winced at the thought, recalling the many times her mother had served something burnt or unrecognizable for dinner. Good thing usually her dad did most of the cooking or they ate takeout. Not much was putting it delicately.

Oh, sure, her mom could make toast—when she didn’t burn it. And she could also figure out how to get the microwave to work to nuke something for them to eat—on a good day.

But put her in front of a stove or tell her how to bake something in the oven, and all of a sudden, she turned clueless. You might as well have been trying to explain to her how to perform brain surgery; it was uncharted territory to her.

So of course Jenny had been surprised when she noticed her mother looking through a bunch of cookbooks, searching for some recipe or another. When Jenny noticed what kind of cookbooks they were, it all made sense: Cookbooks for Irish meals.

Irish. Of course. This was March, after all, and the St. Patrick’s Day Festival—a big deal in Sarah Town—was coming up. Every year, her mother made some kind of dish for the St. Patrick’s Day Festival, and every year they all got to read about it in the newspaper the next day when people got sick or had to be rushed to the hospital from food poisoning.

Okay, maybe that last thought was an exaggeration. But, yeah, her mom and cooking just didn’t mesh. Still, her mom was never say die with that kinda thing. Proof: The many sounds of pots and pans clanging together in the kitchen for hours, the occasional screams of frustration or the sounds of crying and praying coming from behind the kitchen door.

Jenny frowned, looking down at the picture she’d been quietly working on the whole time her mom had been in the kitchen. She didn’t try to force herself to do something for the festival that she knew she wasn’t good at; instead, she did something she did know she was good at. She created art.

She held up the poster, admiring the picture she’d made. And it was a pretty good picture, too, she had to admit. She’d written Happy St. Patrick’s Day! in the center, drew a dancing leprechaun under that, then created a shower of shamrocks all over the top, with some of them circling the words in the center of the drawing as they came down around it.

Ta-da!

Jenny looked in the direction of the sound as she placed her picture back down on the table.

I’ve done it! her mother declared, holding a plate of food in one hand and holding her other hand up as though she were praising the heavens. Corned beef, cabbage and potatoes! The perfect dish for St. Patrick’s Day!

Jenny winced. Yuck. I’ll take Foods I Never Want to Eat for $200, Alex.

Well, eat it, anyway, her mother said, walking over to place the plate of food onto the table in front of her. Jenny swallowed the puke that came rushing to her mouth at the sight of the disgusting food.

This is the dish I’m making for the St. Patrick’s Day Festival, her mother said, smiling. And I need a taste tester.

Jenny looked up at her. Hey, Mom, why don’t you ask Dad to taste it for you? He’s the best taste tester in the world!

Her mother didn’t say anything. All she did was heap that green and brown stuff up on a fork and hold it up to Jenny’s mouth.

Alarm bells screeched in Jenny’s head. Little people in charge of the Tasting Department frantically ran around, trying to control the chaos of impending doom. Full alert! one screeched. Disgusting food about to enter the mouth! Batten down the hatches!

Taste it, her mother encouraged. Please?

A knock sounded at the door. Jenny’s mother handed her the fork. Here. I’ll be right back. She turned around to walk out of the room.

Jenny made a face as she held the food up in front of her mouth. It smelled almost as bad as it looked! What excuse could she come up with to avoid eating this stuff? Tell her mother she was allergic to brown and green food?

No, that wouldn’t work. She wouldn’t be able to eat hamburgers or bacon in front of her mother again.

Maybe she could pretend the food she inched closer to her mouth was a nice juicy hamburger. Yes, that was it. Just a thick juicy burger with ketchup and lettuce and…

Jenny! Cassie’s here.

Jenny lowered the fork and let out a huge breath of relief. She hopped off the chair, ran from the table to leave the room, then ran back to where she’d been sitting to look up. Thank you, she whispered. She turned to run out of the room again.

I smell food, Cassie said, sniffing the air as she walked into Jenny’s house.

Jenny smiled at her friend. And you just saved me from eating it, too. Mom’s practicing her dish for the St. Patrick’s Day Festival.

Cassie frowned. Are you guys Irish?

Jenny shrugged. How should I know? But I guess everybody's Irish on St. Patrick’s Day.

Cassie chuckled. My house smells like bread. I guess both our moms are making something for the festival.

Do you think Ryan’s mom will make anything? I know they are Irish.

Cassie laughed. Ryan’s mom isn’t much of a cook. She’ll probably grab something from the bakery. Have you found any new ghost cases for us yet?

Jenny frowned, shaking her head. Not yet.

Well, maybe something will turnip. Cassie laughed.

Jenny only shook her head. Why on earth was Cassie bringing up turnips? And why did she use it in a sentence that way?

Get it? Turnip? Turn up? Cassie asked. When Jenny only stared at her, Cassie placed her arms on her hips. Well! We were talking about food!

Jenny forced a laugh. Oh, right. I get it. Funny.

Jenny walked over to the table, ignoring the horrible food still on the plate, and carefully removed her picture as though she were Indiana Jones removing the idol from the pedestal. She hurried away with her creation, a chill racing down her spine as thoughts of a giant ball of corned beef rolling behind her tugged at her mind; she paused until her friend caught up, grabbed Cassie’s hand and pulled her into her bedroom. Only after the threat of eating disgusting food was averted did she turn to Cassie and sigh. Phew! We’re safe!

Cassie laughed. What was that about?

You don’t want to know, Jenny replied, shaking her head. She smiled, remembering her poster. Check out this poster I made! She held her creation up for Cassie to see.

Cassie looked it over, her eyes widening. Wow! That’s pretty good!

Thanks, Jenny said, smiling.

Looks like everybody is making something or another for the festival except me, Cassie said, turning to walk to the bed and sit down. My only concern is that the colors match and that they hang the signs up straight.

Jenny grinned, walking over to her desk. Maybe you can be in charge of measuring all the hats everybody wears in the play, to make sure they’re the same size.

Cassie brightened. Good idea!

Jenny chuckled, placing her picture on the desk.

Hey, what’s that?

She looked up to notice Cassie at her side, lifting a newspaper clipping from her desk. When she saw the clipping, she gasped and carefully grabbed it from her so it wouldn’t tear. Nothing, she mumbled, opening a drawer.

Cassie frowned at her, then reached out and took the clipping. Search for girl lost at Alison Lake called off, she read from the headline. She looked at Jenny. Alison Lake. Isn’t that where you fell into the water last month?

Jenny shuddered at the memory. I didn’t fall into the water, she corrected. Something grabbed me and tried to pull me in. She took the clipping back and placed it into the drawer. My mom said a little girl died there, and I think that’s who I saw, she added, closing the drawer.

You mean, her ghost? Cassie asked, getting that look in her eyes. Jenny knew that look. It was the same look Cassie got when