“Would Sherlock Holmes have turned back?” Stevie said. “I don’t think so.”
“Stevie!” Carole said. “We are turning back. Do you want to get stuck out here in the dark?”
Stevie looked at the trail ahead. It was tempting. Everyone would be amazed if they solved the mystery on the first night. Veronica would gnash her teeth. On the other hand, the woods at night were dark and cold.
And maybe dangerous.
STEVIE DIDN’T COMPLETELY cheer up until she smelled the pizza.
As Deborah opened the cardboard box Stevie realized that she was starving. The Saddle Club had been out in the woods a long time, and she was ready to eat.
“I don’t suppose it has anchovies,” Stevie said.
“This one does,” said Deborah with a smile. “And it has pepperoni, sausage, onions, mushrooms, olives, and extra cheese.”
“Hmmm,” Stevie said. “Sounds like an okay pizza.” At TD’s, the local ice cream parlor, Stevie liked to make wild combinations of ice creams and toppings. With pizza it was the same thing. The more ingredients, the better.
“A Stevie pizza,” said Jasmine. “I want some.”
“Me too,” said May, who was still pale but looked more cheerful.
“Me three,” said Corey.
“It’s a tribute to your riding, Stevie,” said Carole. “They think that if they eat pizza like you, they’ll ride like you.”
“Then they should eat pizza like you,” said Stevie to Carole.
“Too dull,” said Carole, looking at the slice of mushroom pizza she was munching on.
Actually, May, Jasmine, and Corey considered themselves the little sisters of The Saddle Club. Anything that Stevie, Lisa, and Carole did, they wanted to do, too.
“You could have normal pizza,” said Lisa to Corey, who was bravely chomping on the anchovy, pepperoni, sausage, onion, mushroom, olive, and extra-cheese pizza.
“This is great,” said Corey. “I love it.”
As soon as Deborah had distributed the pizza slices, the groups gathered in knots around the loft, talking about clues and trying to figure out what to do the next morning.
“Do you hear what I hear?” said Stevie with a grin.
Carole looked up and listened. “It’s the sound of whispering.”
“Look at Jessica and Jackie and Amie,” Lisa said. The three girls had their heads together, talking excitedly.
“They’re doing really well,” Carole said. “I was worried that they’d have trouble with the clues, but they seem to be digging right in.”
Stevie sat back and sighed. “We could have saved them a lot of trouble if only …”
“Stevie,” Carole said. “The teams don’t have to share clues.”
“I bet we’re the only ones who saw those bar prints,” Lisa said. “All we have to do is go back tomorrow and follow them.”
“We’ll go back nice and early,” Carole said.
“But not until after breakfast,” said Stevie. “I hear that Max and Deborah are going to cook up something special.”
“Like breakfast cereal,” said Carole with a grin. She knew that Stevie loved big breakfasts.
“Not cereal,” Stevie wailed.
“Well, it might be something better,” said Carole.
“Were anybody’s horses spooked?” Veronica’s voice rose over the whispering.
“A nut hit Macaroni on the head,” May said. “He practically jumped out of his skin. I mean coat.”
“The creaking of the trees was driving Penny crazy,” said Jessica. The onset of the cold fall weather was making the trees groan.
“Garnet didn’t have any trouble at all,” Veronica said with a smile. “It shows what breeding will do.”
“Thank you, Veronica,” Stevie muttered. “Just in time to give us all indigestion.”
“You mean your horse has breeding?” said A.J., his green eyes wide, his red hair seeming even redder than usual. “That old plug?”
There was a titter around the group because Veronica’s horse, Garnet, was a purebred Arabian, and Veronica never let anyone forget it.
“Garnet is the best horse at Pine Hollow,” Veronica said. “If you knew anything about horses, you would have seen that right away.”
A.J. was an excellent rider. Veronica’s comments did not bother him at all.
“Arabs are good for endurance,” A.J. said. “And they have good speed. But for true artistry you need a Thoroughbred. They’re much better jumpers.”
“I’ve owned a Thoroughbred, thank you,” said Veronica.
“And he was a great jumper, right?” said A.J.
At this Carole felt a lump in her throat. She could never forget Veronica’s previous horse, a Thoroughbred named Cobalt. Veronica had neglected Cobalt, just the way she did Garnet, so Carole had groomed Cobalt and exercised him and loved him. Cobalt, who was a stallion, was too much of a horse for Veronica. One day Veronica had asked him to take a jump in an impossible way, and Cobalt had too much heart to refuse. His leg had been broken, and he had to be put down.
Unperturbed, Veronica said, “Personally I prefer Arabians. They’re so much more aristocratic.”
Just then there were footsteps on the stairs. The riders turned and saw Judy Barker, the Pine Hollow vet. She was wearing jeans, as usual, and a down vest. All the Pine Hollow riders liked Judy because she was never too busy to answer questions, and she loved horses as much as they did.
“Judy has something important to tell you,” Max said. “It bears on the theft of May’s saddle.”
With the mention of her saddle, May bit her lip. She looked as if she was going to start crying again.
“I want you to know that you’re not the only one,” Max said to May. “Judy called to alert us to a rash of saddle thefts, and I asked her to come over and talk about it.”
“There have been at least six saddle thefts I know of in the area,” said Judy, “and with May’s that makes seven, and there have probably been more.”
“You mean there’s someone who just steals saddles?” said May. “Like it’s his job?”
Judy nodded. “It sounds like a professional. Unfortunately, tack theft is pretty common. Saddles last a long time, so there’s a big market for secondhand ones.”
Carole nodded. “I got mine secondhand.” Carole could never have afforded her saddle when it was new. It was beautifully made, with doeskin knee flaps and a square cantle.
“Because there’s such a large secondhand trade in saddles, and because they look so much alike, it’s hard for the police to trace stolen ones,” Judy said.
“I cleaned my saddle before I went to school this morning, and when I came home it was gone,” May said.
“That seems typical of this particular thief,” Judy said. “Saddles are taken in broad daylight, even when people are at home. The thief takes only one saddle, and it’s usually the newest and most expensive one.”
May nodded. Because her father trained horses, some of his saddles were worth more than May’s, but they had been locked in trunks. Hers was out in the open, along with several of lesser value.
“Sometimes a very expensive bridle is also taken,” Judy said, “but nothing else is ever disturbed.”
“I have a nameplate on my saddle,” Stevie said. “Does that make it less likely to be stolen?”
A couple of other kids nodded.
“That’s not enough, unfortunately,” Judy said. “Those nameplates can easily be removed with a screwdriver. The best way to identify a saddle permanently is to engrave your Social Security number in the leather on the underside of one of the knee flaps.”
“What if you don’t know your Social Security number?” said Amie.
“Ask your mom or dad. They’ll tell you,” Judy said. “The other important thing is to keep your tack room locked when there’s no one in the barn.”
“We do that at Pine Hollow,” Max said. “I lock the tack room every night—and I’m certainly going to do it tonight.”
There was a moment of silence while people thought how bad it was to have a saddle thief in the neighborhood.
“I’m sorry to be here on such unhappy business,” Judy said. “But I thought you needed to know.”
“Thanks,” said May, who had conquered her tears. “At least I know I’m not alone. Do you think the police can catch the thief?”
“May, the truth is that these woods are so full of trails it’s easy for a thief to get away undetected,” Judy said. “The police are going to need some real luck to catch him.”
Jasmine and Corey put their arms around May. They went back to their team meeting.
“What do you think?” said Carole, stretching her long legs.
“It’s diabolical,” Stevie said happily. “This is the craftiest, sneakiest, most underhanded ploy I’ve ever experienced. Max should be totally proud of himself.”
“You think that Judy’s visit was part of the Mystery Weekend?” asked Carole incredulously.
“Of course!” Stevie said.
“You think that Max got May to lie about her saddle being stolen and about calling the police, and then he arranged for Judy to lie, too?” Lisa asked.
“Max has a lot of tricks up his sleeve,” Stevie said defensively. “And this is an MW.”
“Oh, come on,” Carole said.
“Well,” Stevie said, raising one eyebrow, “wouldn’t it be great if it were true? Suppose Max has faked everything? This would be the greatest MW in Pine Hollow’s history. In fact, if I were in charge of an MW, this is exactly the kind of thing I’d plan.”
Carole and Lisa looked at each other and shook their heads. “Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t arrange this weekend, Stevie. Sometimes you have a slight tendency to go overboard,” Carole said.
“Me?” said Stevie innocently.
“Let’s get back to facts,” Lisa cut in. “I’m really bothered by those barred prints. I don’t see exactly where they fit in.”
“They were fairly large,” Carole said. “They’d be too big for one of the smaller ponies, like Dime, but Nickel is sturdy.”
“Nickel has big hooves,” said Lisa. “I rode him when I was a beginner. I remember when I picked his hooves I was always surprised at how big they were.”
“Some ponies have big hooves,” Carole said. “Especially ponies that are used in rough terrain. It makes them more surefooted.”
“Do you remember what kind of shoes Nickel had?” Stevie asked.
Lisa shook her head. “I’ve been trying and trying to remember. But I was such a beginner I didn’t notice things like that.”
“It’s a relief your memory isn’t perfect,” Stevie said. Lisa’s great memory was one of the reasons that she got straight A’s in school.
Stevie and Lisa looked at Carole. She was a human encyclopedia where horses were concerned.
“I don’t know if Nickel wears barred shoes,” Carole said. “When I came to Pine Hollow, I already knew how to ride, so I never rode the lesson ponies.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Stevie announced.
“Oh, boy,” Lisa sighed.
“This is a practical idea,” Stevie said. “If none of the other Pine Hollow horses has bar shoes, then the prints must be Nickel’s.”
“Other horses use those trails,” Carole said.
“But these prints were fresh, and we didn’t see any other riders. It’s late in the fall, so the trails are pretty empty,” Stevie said. “Here’s my idea. I think you’re going to like it. What we do is …”
MAX APPEARED AT the head of the stairs carrying a saddle and a bridle, a bucket, and a box with two sponges, a chamois cloth, and a tin of glycerine saddle soap. “Time for a tack cleaning demonstration,” he said.
There was a chorus of sighs because all the groups had been deep into planning strategies for the next day.
“A saddle lasts forever only if you take care of it,” Max said. “Leather cracks unless it’s kept pliable.”
Everyone knew that was true, so the riders crowded around Max. Even expert riders such as Carole and Stevie knew that there was always more to learn about taking care of tack.
Max placed the saddle on a wooden saddle horse and removed the girth, stirrup leathers, and irons. He turned the saddle over and rubbed the dirt and dried sweat from the leather lining. Then he held the saddle pommel down over the bucket and washed it. When he was done, he dried the lining with a chamois cloth and applied saddle soap. He put the saddle back on the saddle horse, then washed the seat and flaps and dried them.
“Make sure you remove all the jockeys,” Max said, pointing to the black greasy marks that had accumulated on the saddle.
Max dried the saddle and then sponged soap into the seat and flaps.
“Don’t hold back,” Max said. “It never pays to be stingy with the soap.”
He dried the saddle to a deep glossy shine, and used polish to clean the metalwork.
The riders murmured with admiration. Not only did the saddle look good, it smelled good. They knew it would feel good next time it was used.
Max held up the bridle he’d brought and said, “Can anyone tell me the part of bridle cleaning that’s most often forgotten?”
“Washing the curb chain?” said May.
“That’s very good,” Max said. “But there’s something else that’s even more frequently forgotten.”
Carole raised her hand, and Max grinned at her.
“Polishing the metalwork?” she said.
“That’s good, too,” Max said. “But there’s something else.” Nobody knew, so Max explained. “Polishing the underside of the leather. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not important. Both sides of the leather have to be soft and pliable. Now, who’s going to polish this bridle for me?”
May and Corey volunteered, and Max congratulated them on doing a meticulous job.
Afterward came a round of Pin the Tail on the Pony in which A.J. managed to pin the tail to the soft-drink cooler and Veronica managed to pin it on her hair dryer. Then everyone trooped downstairs to check the horses before they went to sleep.
When the riders were back in the loft, Deborah turned off the lights, held a flashlight under her chin, and told a ghost story. Because Deborah was an investigative reporter, she had a gift for making things seem real—and scary. Some of the younger riders got a definite case of the creeps.
Then it was time to sleep. The riders climbed into their sleeping bags, the boys on the left side of the loft, the girls on the right. Deborah was about to turn out the lights when Veronica said, “Not so fast.”
“Now what?” said Deborah with a sigh.
“I’m not going to wake up looking like a creep,” Veronica said. “Even if other people are.” She gave Stevie a significant look.
And then, to everyone’s amazement, Veronica sat down at her portable dressing table and proceeded to comb setting gel through her hair.
“I don’t believe this,” Stevie muttered. “It’s going to give the little kids nightmares.”
Veronica talked while she combed her hair. “Many people might be discouraged by the fact that there are no shower facilities at Pine Hollow, but to me this is a challenge. If there’s no water, I simply use gel.” By this time Veronica’s hair was shiny with gunk.
“You decided to slime yourself,” Stevie said. “If I were you, Veronica, I’d slime myself, too.”
The younger riders collapsed in giggles. Deborah, seeing that things were getting out of hand, said, “Make it fast, Veronica.”
Undaunted, Veronica continued her lecture. “First you section your hair,” she said, poking bobby pins into each hank. “Then you take the first section …” She combed a hank of hair straight up.
“The porcupine look is very big,” Stevie said. “The boy porcupines will be nuts for you.” Veronica was a well-know
n flirt.
Amie laughed so hard she started hiccuping.
“I’m giving you one minute, Veronica,” said Deborah. “After that it’s lights out.”
“… and then you roll it,” Veronica said, twisting the gooey hair onto a roller the size of a hot-dog bun. She finished putting the rest of her hair onto the giant rollers and then turned to look at the other riders.
“I know it looks hard,” Veronica said, “but with practice and discipline you can master it, too.”
“You look like a Martian,” May said.
Stevie, Lisa, and Carole exchanged grins. This was the first time May had been cheerful all day. In her own obnoxious way Veronica had been helpful.
Veronica stood up grandly, as if she were a movie star on Oscar night. “In the morning you’ll see what I mean,” she said.
“And that’s it,” Deborah said. “Riders, get in your sleeping bags. Now I want everyone to go to sleep.”
That was easier said than done. The younger riders were so excited by Veronica’s strange demonstration that they couldn’t stop giggling and whispering.
“If you don’t get a good night’s sleep, you won’t be able to find clues in the morning,” Deborah said.
That did it. The younger riders subsided. Soon the sound of peaceful breathing filled the loft.
The Saddle Club, however, was wide awake.
“Could you snore a little more softly?” Carole whispered to Stevie.
“The building is shaking,” Lisa whispered.
Stevie realized that she might have been overdoing the sound effects, so she stepped her snore down to a low buzz, and then to a hum.
When the breathing of the other riders was totally steady, Lisa, Carole, and Stevie crept out of their sleeping bags and over to the stairs. On the ledge next to the stairs was Deborah’s flashlight. Stevie shoved it under her sweatshirt and crept softly down the stairs.
“Unnnnh!” came a muffled sound from behind her. Stevie looked back to see Carole hobbling.
“I never realized hay bales were so hard,” Carole hissed. She had tripped over one of the bales in the feed room.
Mystery Ride Page 4