A THIEF IS ON THE LOOSE!
There was a hum of anticipation as Max began to explain the rules of the Mystery Weekend to the Pony Clubbers.
“Clues have to be left where they’re found so that other riders can find them. But a team doesn’t have to tell about a clue. It’s perfectly okay to keep that information secret. On Sunday, at our final lunch, the prize will be awarded. And now …”
There was a clatter on the stairs. The riders turned.
May Grover appeared. Her eyes were red. Her cheeks were tear-stained.
“The worst …,” she said, and started to cry.
“What?” said Max.
“My saddle is gone!” May wailed.
RL 5, 009–012
MYSTERY RIDE
A Skylark Book / October 1995
Skylark Books is a registered trademark of Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and elsewhere.
“The Saddle Club” is a registered trademark of Bonnie Bryant Hiller.
The Saddle Club design / logo, which consists of a riding crop and a riding hat, is a trademark of Bantam Books.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1995 by Bonnie Bryant Hiller.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information address: Bantam Books.
eISBN: 978-0-307-82545-2
Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada
Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.
v3.1
I would like to express my special thanks
to Helen Geraghty for her
help in the writing of this book.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
About the Author
“I THINK WE saw that maple tree half an hour ago, except it had twice as many leaves,” Lisa said. She looked down. The ground under the tree was carpeted with a ring of newly fallen yellow leaves.
“I’m totally sure we did,” Stevie said. “Kind of.”
The members of The Saddle Club, Lisa Atwood, Stevie Lake, and Carole Hanson, groaned. It was a crisp, cool Thursday afternoon in late fall. The next day was the beginning of the Mystery Weekend at Pine Hollow Stables, where the girls rode. The MW, as they’d taken to calling it, was going to last from Friday afternoon to Sunday morning. Max Regnery, the owner of Pine Hollow and head of their Pony Club, Horse Wise, had said the MW would involve a pretend mystery and lots of riding.
Carole, Lisa, and Stevie had ridden out to inspect the trails so that on Friday they would notice any freshly planted “clues.” But now the girls were busy wondering if they had kicked off the MW by getting lost in the woods. If they had, the other members of Horse Wise would never let them forget it. Especially snooty Veronica diAngelo.
The Saddle Club had never ridden in a Pine Hollow MW before, and the girls were confident they would be the ones to solve Max’s mystery. Even though he had told them not to expect too big a prize, they felt their honor was at stake. After all, weren’t they the ones who had solved the horsenapping during a three-day event at Pine Hollow? And hadn’t Lisa prevented a horse-poisoning before the famous Preakness race? And wasn’t Stevie known as the wiliest fox around during their mock fox hunts? Even if it was only a game, the MW was right up The Saddle Club’s alley.
“I’m sure I remember those toadstools,” Stevie said. “And that skunkweed is almost totally familiar.”
“Yes, but which way is the stable?” said Lisa.
They stared into a grove of birch trees. In fall everything changed. Familiar landmarks, such as rocks, were buried under blankets of leaves; wild asters turned white, and blackberry bushes turned into twisted purple stems.
“I bet Carole knows,” Lisa said. Carole knew everything there was to know about horses, so—it stood to reason—Carole would know how to get back to the stable.
“Well,” Carole said with a weak grin, “we’re definitely in the woods behind Pine Hollow, and”—she rubbed her chin judiciously—“I would say that we’re definitely on a riding trail. And furthermore, I would say we’re definitely on horseback. Right, Starlight?” She reached down and gave her dark bay horse a pat.
“Great,” Stevie said. “We promised Max we’d keep an eye on the younger riders, but we can’t even keep an eye on ourselves.”
Carole looked up. Overhead a hawk was circling, making high-pitched cries. Carole noticed that the sun caught its belly. She knew this meant that the sun was low. She looked at a birch tree and saw that its leaves were transparent with light.
“That must be west,” she said, pointing, “because the light is coming from over there.”
“Yes!” Stevie said. “So that must be the way back to Pine Hollow.”
They turned their horses and rode toward the light of the setting sun.
“Fall’s almost over,” Carole said sadly. “And spring is about a million years away.”
“One last beautiful weekend,” Lisa said.
“And then mud,” Stevie said.
“And ice,” Carole said. In winter Horse Wise mostly rode in the indoor ring at Pine Hollow. That was fun, but it wasn’t the same as the glorious freedom of the trail.
“We’ll have to make the MW great for everyone, especially the little kids,” Carole said. She remembered that when she was a kid, riding at Marine Corps bases, winters seemed practically infinite. Even though many of those Marine Corps bases had been farther south, she’d gotten used to trails that turned muddy and treacherous in winter. “We have to make sure the kids’ ponies are properly tacked up. And that they don’t gallop.” It was a rule of the MW that no one was allowed to gallop. “And we have to help them with their clues so they don’t get frustrated.”
“And we have to keep them from getting lost in the woods like us,” said Stevie with a grin. The Saddle Club would be glad to help the younger riders. That task would fit in with the club’s two rules—members had to be totally horse-crazy, and they had to help out when there was trouble.
“A.J.’s coming to the MW,” Stevie added. A.J. was a rider from Cross County, a Pony Club in a nearby town. He was famous for his practical jokes. He was also best friends with Phil Marsten, Stevie’s boyfriend.
“And?” said Lisa with a grin.
“And he’s bringing his friend Bart,” Stevie said.
“And?” said Carole.
“No Phil,” said Stevie dejectedly. “We had a three-hour phone conversation last night. He was planning on coming, but his grandmother is sick and his family is going to visit her. His mother even came on the phone to tell me how sorry she was.”
“That’s a bummer,” said Lisa sympathetically.
“Totally,” Stevie said. “I was counting on outwitting Phil this weekend.”
“You can always outwit him another weekend,” Carole said.
“It’s not the same
,” said Stevie, looking at the golden woods. She had anticipated riding with Phil down these trails and maybe stealing some time alone with him.
As they came around a curve in the trail, the woods opened onto a large field. On the edge sat a dark barn with a shingled roof and a padlocked door.
“We have to make sure the younger kids stay away from these barns,” Carole said. “The park uses them to store machinery, so they’re off-limits to everyone but park employees.” Silverado State Park included the woods and the mountains behind Pine Hollow Stables.
“We also have to make sure the kids understand that the fields around the park aren’t public,” Carole said. “They belong to neighboring farms. People let us ride through them as a favor, so it’s our job to be careful.”
“Wow, look at that,” said Lisa, pointing at a tall black shape in a stand of aspen.
“Creepy,” Carole said.
“Yes,” Stevie said with a grin. “It’s a terrifying pump.” As they rode closer they saw that it was indeed an old water pump with a curved handle.
“Who would put a pump in the middle of the woods?” Lisa asked.
“Some of these woods used to be farmland,” Stevie said. “So they’re full of odd things.”
Lisa shivered. In the fading light the silvery foxtail grass looked gray. She remembered that this time of year the days were getting shorter, and that when night fell the temperature dropped rapidly. “How far from Pine Hollow are we?” she said.
“Mmmm,” Carole said. “I think I smell hickory smoke.”
The three of them sniffed.
“How do you know it’s hickory?” said Lisa.
“It has a kind of tangy smell,” Carole said. “And wasn’t somebody explaining to us that hickory smoke is the best smoke?”
“Max!” Lisa said. Just the other day Max had been laying in a supply of hickory logs on his side porch.
“What do you want to bet that Deborah has started a fire?” Carole said. Deborah was Max’s new wife, and this was their first winter as a married couple. Chances were that they’d spend a lot of time together in front of the fireplace in the house near the stables.
“What a nice thing to come home to,” Carole said.
It seemed to the girls that they were almost back at Pine Hollow. The horses must have felt the same way, because their tails switched contentedly, and they walked a little faster.
“Prancer’s thinking oats,” Lisa said. “She’s thinking a rubdown.” Prancer’s ears twitched.
“Max says that horses can’t understand English, but sometimes I wonder,” Carole said.
Suddenly Starlight shuddered and danced sideways. Stevie’s horse, Belle, bobbed her head. Something was wrong. The girls were alert, leaning forward in their saddles, scanning the underbrush, wondering what had spooked the horses.
Prancer whinnied. “Easy, easy,” Lisa murmured. As an ex-racehorse, Prancer was more skittish than the others, and more likely to take off.
The girls looked ahead. Trail dust rose through the trees. There was the sound of hoofbeats.
“Hello,” Carole called. This time of evening, when the trails were mainly deserted, the other rider should have greeted them. He was showing bad trail manners.
“What was that?” Lisa said.
“Maybe it was a beginner,” Stevie said. The woods, after all, were used by many people, and not all riders knew the rules of the trail.
The horses were still nervy, especially Prancer, who took tiny, bouncy steps.
“Maybe it was just the wind,” said Lisa, “or a jackrabbit.”
Carole shook her head. She was sure those had been hoofbeats.
Stevie grinned and said, “It seems like the Mystery Weekend is starting early.”
ON FRIDAY STEVIE rushed home from Fenton Hall, her private school. She had been looking forward to the MW, but now she was really looking forward to it. Veronica diAngelo, who went to Stevie’s school, had remarked that The Saddle Club might have the brawn to win horse shows and cross-country events, but it didn’t have the brains to win an MW. That was enough to make up Stevie’s mind. The Saddle Club had to solve the mystery first.
She dumped her books on the crowded desk in her bedroom. She had explained to her teachers about the Mystery Weekend, so they had given her extra homework during the week. Now she had practically no homework. She couldn’t believe she had been so well organized. Only desperation could make her ask for schoolwork ahead of time!
It was going to be a great weekend, Stevie thought as she changed into her riding gear. She grabbed her pajamas from the back of the desk chair, where she had tossed them that morning, and stuffed them into a bag, adding extra clothes for Saturday and Sunday. It would be a perfect weekend, if only Phil were coming. She dialed Phil’s number, but no one answered. She was disappointed, since she had been hoping to have one last chat with him before he went to his grandmother’s. Instead she left a message telling Phil she hoped his grandmother was better, and she told a couple of knock-knock jokes that he could pass along. Stevie believed in the healing power of knock-knock jokes.
When Stevie got to Pine Hollow, she stopped off to see Belle. The bay mare was chewing hay from her hay net and looking thoughtful. Stevie let herself into the stall for a chat.
“I’m counting on you, Belle,” Stevie said as she reached up to tickle the spot under her mane that Belle liked best. “We’re going to need your brainpower this weekend.”
“Honestly, Stevie,” Lisa said, looking into the stall. “Are we going to need the horses’ brains?”
“Veronica said The Saddle Club is too dumb to win the MW,” Stevie said.
Lisa laughed and said, “If all we have to do is surpass Veronica’s brainpower, we’re a shoo-in.”
Belle snorted as if she were in total agreement.
“Let’s go find Carole,” Stevie said.
She and Lisa walked to Starlight’s stall, and there, sure enough, was Carole. Carole was brushing the star in the center of the gelding’s forehead. It was a funny coincidence that all three members of The Saddle Club rode bays.
“Veronica says The Saddle Club is too dumb to win the MW,” said Lisa, peering over the stall door.
“Really? Well, Miss Know-It-All is here already,” Carole said. “Making a terrible ruckus.”
“Already?” said Stevie in surprise. Veronica wasn’t one to help with preparations. In fact, one of her favorite tricks was arriving at the last minute, after everyone else had done the work.
“She just showed up—with a earful of beauty aids,” Carole said.
“Too bad there’s no such thing as beauty aids for the personality,” Stevie said. “Although, actually, she’s beyond help.” Carole and Lisa giggled.
“She wants to set up her stuff in the loft,” Carole said, “and she’s complaining because it isn’t ready.”
Carole, Lisa, and Stevie looked at each other. Veronica diAngelo was the most annoying human being who ever lived, and she had no business complaining that the loft wasn’t ready. On the other hand, they had promised Max that they would sweep it out.
“Better get ready for Queen Veronica,” said Carole with a sigh.
They walked down the aisle of the barn to the side that held the tack room, the equipment room, and the feed room. They took three brooms from the equipment room and climbed the stairs to the loft.
“Wow,” Lisa said as she caught sight of the view out the window. “From here you can see everything.”
“You can see the mountains,” said Carole, looking left toward the jagged outcroppings of the Silverado Mountains.
“And the water,” added Lisa, staring toward the curly silver ribbon of Willow Creek.
“And the mysterious forest that is probably already filled with clues,” Stevie said.
“This is taking forever,” came Veronica’s strident voice from the parking lot below. Stevie looked down and saw Veronica standing next to her mother’s white Mercedes, along with a makeup case, a col
lapsible dressing table, a large suitcase, a pink hair dryer, a curling iron, and a jumbo battery pack.
“Let me guess, it’s a yard sale,” said Stevie from the window.
Veronica tossed her shiny black hair and glanced up at Stevie. “I’m not planning to look like a disaster all weekend, unlike certain other people,” she snapped.
“So you brought your own ugly salon,” Stevie said.
Jackie and Amie, two younger riders who had been listening, collapsed in giggles. Stevie was about to let loose with another insult when she saw Max listening with his arms crossed. Max did not like it when The Saddle Club teased Veronica.
Stevie retreated from the window.
Carole and Lisa were tugging bales of hay into the center of the loft to make a divider between the boys’ side and the girls’ side.
“Where should The Saddle Club sleep?” Carole said.
“Next to the windows,” Stevie said, “so we can get plenty of fresh air. Otherwise Veronica’s hair spray might kill us.”
As they hauled their bedrolls up the stairs, and then their overnight bags, Lisa said, “Where should we put Veronica and her pals?”
“The younger kids should be near us so that we can keep an eye on them,” Carole said, “so I guess Veronica and her friends go at the back.”
They looked out the window and saw that Veronica was no longer alone. Horse trailers were pulling into the stable yard. The horses from the Cross County Pony Club were being stabled in temporary stalls that Max had set up on the back paddock.
It was easy to spot A.J. with his bright red hair. He was unloading his horse from his family’s van. He looked up and grinned.
“Hey, Stevie,” he called. “Ready to make like Sherlock Holmes?”
“Time will tell,” she said.
At that moment A.J.’s horse, a gray mare called Crystal, let loose with a bloodcurdling whinny.
Unloading horses was the trickiest part of any sleepover weekend at Pine Hollow. It was especially tricky if the horse was used to another stable, like Crystal. Stevie scrambled down the steps into the yard and walked casually over to Crystal to try to calm her.
Mystery Ride Page 1