The Missing Horse Mystery

by Carolyn Keene

  The two girls walked out into the aisle. The woman

  wearing the riding breeches was leading her horse

  toward them. The horse's neck was dark with sweat. As

  it walked, Nancy noticed that it limped slightly on one

  of its front legs.

  “Is your horse all right?” Nancy asked with concern.

  The woman shook her head. “No. Secret bruised the

  sole of his hoof.”

  “Tough break,” Bess said.

  The woman smoothed the horse's forelock, tears

  filling her eyes. “Secret and I have been training all

  summer for this show. We're lucky it's just a bruise and

  not something worse.”

  Turning to Nancy and Bess, she held out her hand.

  “I'm Valerie Dunn. I want to thank you. Mr. Texel

  explained that your quick thinking saved Secret's life

  and possibly the lives of all the horses in the barn.” She

  shuddered. “I can't imagine what would have

  happened if this place had caught fire.”

  “Ms. Dunn, do you have any idea how the hay—”

  Nancy started to ask.

  “Just a second there, young lady.” R. Texel strode up

  with a guard who was half his size. The name on his

  badge was A. Brackett.

  Texel hooked his thumbs in his belt. “I'll ask the

  questions, if you don't mind.”

  “I don't mind,” Nancy said with as much politeness

  as she could summon. She held out the match. “You

  might be interested in this. I found it in the sawdust.”

  She dropped it into Texel's hand.

  His bushy eyebrows rose, but he didn't say a word.

  Nancy and Bess said goodbye to Valerie Dunn, then

  headed toward the other end of the barn.

  “Well,” Bess said, “Mr. Texel made it clear he didn't

  want our help.”

  “Fine with me,” Nancy said as they left through the

  same doors they'd entered earlier. “I want to have fun

  at the show, not hunt for an arsonist. Besides, Ned

  should be arriving any minute.”

  Stopping outside, Nancy scanned the parking lot. A

  tall, attractive young man with brown hair and an

  athletic build was striding toward them.

  Nancy waved. “Ned!” she called.

  “Hi, you two,” he said as he jogged up. “How's the

  competition?”

  “We've been too busy putting out a fire to see any of

  it yet,” Bess replied.

  “What happened?” Ned asked with concern.

  “Someone dropped a match onto some hay,” Nancy

  said. She guided him in the direction of the

  showgrounds. “We'll fill you in while we go to meet

  Lee Anne.”

  The trio made their way to the showgrounds. The

  area was crowded with horses of all sizes, colors, and

  shapes. Some were saddled and carried riders. Others

  were being walked, washed, or groomed. In one of the

  rings, several equestrians rode their mounts in small

  circles.

  “There's Arena One.” Nancy pointed to a flat

  rectangular area bordered by a low white fence. Twelve

  black letters on white boards were posted around the

  arena. “And there's Lee Anne.”

  Lee Anne was striding toward them, her arms filled

  with towels, jars, and sprays, which she dumped in a

  bucket under a tree. Nancy was about to introduce

  Ned when Lee Anne waved toward the arena.

  “Michael's just going in! If we hurry, we can watch

  from the hillside.”

  As they climbed the grassy slope, Lee Anne said, “I

  felt bad about leaving you, but Michael gets upset if I

  don't help him. There he is now.”

  Nancy sat beside Ned and Bess just as Michael and

  Curio trotted down the center of the arena. The pair

  halted in the middle. Picking up the rein in his left

  hand, Michael dropped his right hand and nodded to

  several people sitting at a table under a canopy.

  “He's saluting the judge,” Lee Anne whispered.

  Ned leaned closer to Lee Anne. “What do all the

  letters around the arena mean?”

  “The letters let the rider know where to execute

  each movement. For example, Michael knows he must

  halt and salute at the letter X, which is the center of

  the arena. Now he's tracking right at C and executing a

  circle at R . . .”

  Ned and Bess stared at Lee Anne in confusion.

  “Just watch,” Lee Anne said with a grin.

  Nancy tried to concentrate on the horse and rider,

  but her thoughts kept drifting back to the fire. Who

  had set it? she wondered. And why?

  “Nancy.” Lee Anne nudged her. “See the man under

  the big oak tree? That's Klaus Schaudt, Aristocrat's

  owner.”

  Nancy glanced at the man, noting his steel gray hair

  and military posture. A delighted gasp from Lee Anne

  drew her attention back to the arena. Michael and

  Curio were charging past, the horse's front legs

  reaching out.

  “Did you see Curio's extended trot?” Lee Anne

  exclaimed. “Perfect!”

  As the horse and rider rounded the corner, Nancy

  could see a look of intense concentration on Michael's

  face. At the letter V, Curio broke into a smooth,

  rocking canter, then cantered diagonally across the

  arena. Nancy thought Curio looked as if he were

  dancing.

  “Next is the piroutte,” Lee Anne said. She held her

  breath as horse and rider executed the move. “Perfect,”

  Lee Anne murmured as Curio spun in a neat circle.

  “That was beautiful,” Nancy said. She watched as

  Curio trotted in place, lifting his legs high as if

  prancing to music. “I've never seen a horse perform

  such difficult movements.”

  “That's called the passage,” Lee Anne explained.

  “Wow.” Bess whistled. “Getting a horse to dance

  must be tricky, but Michael makes it look easy.”

  “That's how it's supposed to seem. The horse should

  look as if he's performing on his own, but believe me,

  Michael's working hard.”

  Five minutes later Curio halted in the center again.

  When Michael saluted the judge, Lee Anne jumped to

  her feet and cheered loudly.

  “Let's go congratulate him,” she said. Picking up her

  bucket, she took off toward the arena exit.

  Ned, Nancy, and Bess walked down the hill. Michael

  and Curio had stopped under the tree. Lee Anne held

  Curio's reins. Michael had dismounted and was

  loosening the horse's girth. Klaus Schaudt stood

  between Lee Anne and Michael.

  As Nancy approached, she could see that Curio was

  breathing hard, his nostrils blowing in and out. Taking

  off his top hat, Michael handed it to Lee Anne. His

  hair was matted with sweat, and his mouth was pinched

  in an angry line.

  No wonder, Nancy thought as she drew closer.

  Schaudt was admonishing him sternly. “Your flying

  changes were rough, Michael. The passage was only

  passable. Your scores will never get out of the low

  sixties if you don't work on those two movements.”

  Nancy stopped a
few feet away, Ned and Bess

  behind her. Michael's face was bright red. Lee Anne

  stared down at the reins in her hand.

  “We didn't get enough time to practice the test

  during warm-up,” Michael said through clenched

  teeth.

  The man frowned at Lee Anne. “And why not? You

  were supposed to coach him.”

  “I—I'm sorry,” Lee Anne stammered. “There was a

  fire in one of the stalls and—”

  “A fire?” Michael whirled to face her.

  “Whose stall?” Schaudt demanded. “One of our

  horses?”

  “No,” Nancy said quickly, stepping toward the trio.

  “I'm Nancy Drew, Lee Anne's friend.” Taking

  Schaudt's hand, she shook it firmly, then introduced

  Ned and Bess. “The horse belonged to a woman named

  Valerie Dunn. When it bolted from the stall, it bruised

  the sole of its hoof.”

  Michael snorted with amusement. “Too bad for

  Valerie, though I'm sure glad she won't be able to

  compete against me.”

  Nancy was surprised by his unsportsmanlike

  comment. Did he really mean it or was he just reacting

  to the pressure?

  “Ha!” Schaudt scoffed. “If you don't improve your

  performance, Valerie could beat you with a lame

  horse.”

  Turning his attention to Nancy, Ned, and Bess,

  Schaudt smiled so warmly that Nancy found it hard to

  believe he was the same person who had just chewed

  Michael out. “It's nice to meet you and your friends,

  Miss Drew. Now if you'll excuse me . . .”

  With a nod of his head, he strode off across the

  showgrounds. Michael scowled, then jerked the reins

  from Lee Anne's hand and led Curio away.

  Lee Anne blew out her breath. “Sorry you had to

  hear that. Klaus is very demanding, and he's been

  especially hard on Michael these past few days.” She

  flashed them an apologetic grin. “Which means

  Michael's under tons of pressure. He hasn't been

  himself lately.”

  “I know how intense sports competitions can get,”

  Ned said.

  “Well, I'd better help Michael cool Curio off,” Lee

  Anne said. Tucking the top hat under her arm, she

  bent to pick up the bucket. “Why don't you stay and

  watch some of the other horses?” she added before

  hurrying off.

  “Whew,” Bess said when Lee Anne had gone. “I

  sure wouldn't want to work with Klaus Schaudt, no

  matter how wonderful a trainer he is. And I don't care

  what excuses Lee Anne makes—I think Michael's

  rude.”

  “Give the guy a break,” Ned said. “He might be

  totally different when he's not stressed.”

  Nancy reluctantly agreed. “Lee Anne did say he was

  trying to earn high scores at this show so he could

  qualify for—”

  Loud yelling cut Nancy off.

  Behind Bess, a young man was struggling to hold on

  to a horse that was shaking its head so wildly it jerked

  the lead line from the man's grasp.

  Nancy gasped as the horse wheeled and raced in

  their direction. Eyes wild with fright, it slid to a stop

  right behind Bess. As it reared, Nancy could see that its

  hooves were inches from Bess's head.

  3. Thief!

  “Bess!” Nancy screamed. Grabbing her friend's wrist,

  she yanked her out of the path of the horse's hooves.

  Bess crashed into Nancy, and the two of them landed

  in a heap on the ground. The horse loomed over them,

  its nostrils flaring.

  “Whoa.” Speaking calmly, Ned stepped toward the

  animal and caught the dangling lead line. Bess

  scrambled to her feet, pulling Nancy with her. At the

  same time the young man ran around and took the lead

  from Ned.

  The man backed the horse up, then stopped it. As

  he patted the horse's neck, he spoke in a soothing

  voice. Listening closely, she realized he was speaking

  German.

  “Thanks, Nan,” Bess said as she brushed off the seat

  of her shorts.

  Stooping, Nancy picked up her cap, which had fallen

  off. “Thank Ned. He kept us from getting trampled.”

  “Are you all right?” The young man came up to

  them, a worried expression on his face. After pulling

  off his cap, he held it against his chest. In his other

  hand he held the lead tightly, but by now his horse was

  standing docilely by his side.

  “Yes. We're fine,” Nancy told him.

  “Thank goodness.” He blew out an exaggerated

  breath. “I would not want two beautiful American

  women to be stomped to death.”

  Bess giggled. The man grinned at her, his blue eyes

  twinkling. He had wavy blond hair, a slim, athletic

  rider's build, and an infectious smile.

  “Gunter Werth.” He took Bess's hand and shook it

  heartily. “And you two ladies are . . . ?

  “Bess Marvin.” Bess shook his hand. “And these are

  my friends Nancy Drew and Ned Nickerson.”

  “I am honored to meet you.” Gunter bowed at the

  waist, then straightened up. “Well, Bess, Nancy, and

  Ned, my horse, Persaldo, apologizes for his rude

  behavior.” He grinned boyishly. “Perhaps you would

  accept my invitation to dinner tonight as an apology?”

  Bess grinned. “That sounds wonderful, Gunter, but I

  . . . we hardly know you.”

  “And I hardly know anyone in this country,” Gunter

  said wistfully. “I need someone to show me the sights

  and explain American words—like why they call it a hot

  dog and why everyone says awesome.' ”

  “Why don't you join us?” Ned suggested. “We'll

  answer your questions about America if you'll answer

  our questions about dressage. We're newcomers to the

  sport.”

  “Ah.” Gunter smoothed his hair and put his cap back

  on. “Dressage is a tricky sport to understand, but it's

  beautiful to watch. I will be happy to—how do you say

  it?—fill you in.”

  They agreed to meet at the motel at seven-thirty.

  Reluctantly Bess said goodbye as Gunter led his horse

  away.

  “Wow,” she gasped. “He's really nice. Ned, thanks

  for inviting him to have dinner with us.”

  “We can ask Lee Anne and Michael, too,” Nancy

  suggested. “Make it a fun night out.”

  Bess groaned. “A fun night with Michael? No way.”

  “Let's give the guy a chance,” Nancy said. “Lee

  Anne seems to like him, so there must be something to

  like.”

  “I doubt it.” Bess shook her head. “Now, with

  Gunter there's a lot to like. He knows how to charm a

  girl. Not like you American guys.” She playfully

  punched Ned on the arm. “Always taking us for

  granted and expecting us to fall all over you.”

  “Take Nancy for granted?” Ned joked. “Never. She

  might stick a scorpion in my bed.”

  “Don't give me ideas, Nickerson,” Nancy teased

  back.

  “Hey, speaking of ideas”—Bess pointed to a littl
e

  girl eating a chili dog—“let's eat. In fact”—she pulled a

  brochure from the pocket of her shorts—“according to

  this, the concourse of the indoor arena is filled with

  over fifty vendors!”

  “Oh, great.” Ned rolled his eyes. “Shopping.”

  “Good idea,” Nancy said. “After we find something

  to eat, we can browse. Then I'd like to stop by the

  security office to see if they found any clues about the

  fire.”

  The three of them headed for the huge arena. It was

  dark and cool inside, a welcome respite from the

  intense sun.

  After Nancy's eyes adjusted, she looked around.

  Bess was right. The top level of the circular concourse

  was filled with vendors' booths. Most were hawking

  horse supplies, but others sold jewelry, handmade

  clothing, and leather goods.

  Bess's eyes glowed as she made a beeline for a glass

  case filled with silver and turquoise earrings. “A pair of

  these would look great with my new blouse.”

  Ned strolled over to a rack of hand-tooled leather

  belts while Nancy headed for a booth selling old books.

  She scanned the shelves, noticing that all the books

  were about horses. She found one of her childhood

  favorites. Pulling it out, she flipped through the pages,

  admiring the illustrations.

  “That would be a neat present for Lee Anne,” Bess

  said over her shoulder.

  They browsed for a few more minutes, waiting for

  Ned. When he finally rejoined them, he wore a new

  belt in the loops of his denim shorts.

  “What do you think?” he asked, putting his thumbs

  behind the silver buckle to show it off.

  “I think for someone who hated the idea of

  shopping, you did really well,” Nancy joked. “You look

  like a cowboy.”

  “Ready to eat?” Bess asked.

  The three stood in line at a concession stand. After

  they'd received their orders, they sat at a small round

  table overlooking the indoor ring below. Rows and

  rows of seats sloped down to the circular area where

  several riders schooled their horses.

  As Nancy munched her tuna salad on whole wheat,

  she watched the horses move effortlessly, with their

  necks arched and their heads tucked in, their legs

  rising and falling in perfect rhythm.

  “Dressage is an art as well as a sport,” she

  commented.

  “Umm.” Bess nodded in agreement as she ate a

  french fry. Ned was polishing off his second chili dog.