Lisa crept after them, a sweater over her flannel pajamas. They tiptoed past the locked tack room.
The air in the barn was warm and steamy. At the far end of the aisle a horse snorted. Another horse was doing something that sounded a lot like snoring.
Patch was in the first stall. They couldn’t just pick up one of his hooves and look at the shoe—it might have frightened him and caused him to lash out. Lisa knew Patch best, because she had occasionally ridden him when she was a beginner, so she walked to his head and said, “I hate to do this to you, Patch.”
Through his long eyelashes, the black-and-white pinto stared sleepily at her. Slowly Lisa ran her hand down his leg to his chestnut, the little patch of hairless skin that all horses have on the inside of their legs. She squeezed it gently, and he lifted his foot. Lisa shone the flashlight on Patch’s hoof.
“Normal shoe,” Lisa whispered.
Patch snorted, and Lisa let go of his foot. Patch gave a long, snorting rumble as he settled back into sleep.
Comanche was in the next stall. Stevie knew him best. She also knew that Comanche had a strong sense of pride and could get riled very easily. “Hoof check,” Stevie said sternly as she moved toward his head.
Comanche turned and yawned in her face. He had, Stevie thought, the largest teeth she’d ever seen, and his gums were pretty big, too. Stevie grinned back. She ran a hand down his leg, and without a fuss Comanche lifted his foot.
“Normal shoe,” Stevie whispered.
In the next stall Bodoni was asleep on his side. “Hey, pal,” Carole whispered. Bodoni snorted and fell deeper into sleep.
“Just like my father,” giggled Carole. “The more you try to wake him, the harder he sleeps. In fact, he’s an all-around champion sleeper.”
“Show time,” Stevie whispered to Bodoni. Bodoni blinked. He was a championship horse and loved to compete. “We’re having a hoof beauty contest.”
Amazingly enough, Bodoni got to his feet. Carole walked in to greet him. She tapped him on the knee, and Bodoni raised his foot.
“Ordinary shoe,” Carole said.
“This could take forever,” Stevie said with a groan.
As they worked their way down the stalls, Carole thought that it was a lot like being a camp counselor. The horses were either grumpy, sleepy, or irritated. Checking their hooves required a lot of patience.
Finally they finished. None of the horses in the stable had barred shoes.
“So now we know it was Nickel,” Stevie said.
Lisa looked unhappy. “Not exactly. What about the guest horses? We need to check them, too.”
“And we don’t even know them,” Stevie said. “They’re not going to like this.”
They walked back to the stable door and pushed it open. It gave a loud creak.
“Oh, no,” Stevie whispered.
A light appeared on the boys’ side of the loft, and A.J.’s red hair appeared at the window.
“What’s going on?” he said.
Lisa, Carole, and Stevie were silent for a long moment.
“Nothing much,” Lisa finally said.
“It must be something,” A.J. said.
Stevie looked around quickly, desperate for an excuse. “We’re … admiring the moonlight,” she said. “It’s so great!” Actually it was an ordinary half-moon.
“Hey, I love moonlight. I’ll be right down,” A.J. said.
The three girls looked at each other in dismay. “Of all people,” Lisa said. A.J. was known for his chattiness—and his inquisitiveness.
Seconds later A.J. appeared in the doorway in a gray sweater. “This is fantastic,” he whispered. “All my life I’ve been looking for people who are as crazy about moonlight as I am.”
Stevie rolled her eyes.
“Just look at that ring around the moon,” he said. “Isn’t it fantastic?”
“Unbelievable,” Lisa said.
“You can really see the seas on the moon,” A.J. went on. “They’re not real seas, of course. They’re filled with dust. But they’re called mare, which is Latin for ‘sea.’ ”
Carole yawned.
“I guess the excitement of the moonlight has worn you out,” A.J. said.
“It’s a killer,” Carole said. “Really draining.”
“Have you guys made; progress on the mystery?” he asked. “I’m not asking for clues or anything, just a general progress report.”
Lisa let loose with a yawn so large her jaw ached. “You know what?” she said. “I think I’ve had enough moonlight.”
“Me too,” said Carole. “It’s not good to have too much at one time.”
“You guys are wimps,” A.J. said cheerfully. “I’ll be out here watching the moonlight for hours.”
“Tell us about it in the morning,” Stevie said as she stumbled toward the stairs.
“A.J.’s a little strange,” Carole whispered as they crept up to the loft.
“And he’s Phil’s best friend,” Stevie whispered. “It kind of makes you wonder.”
As Stevie snuggled back into her sleeping bag, she thought that her plan hadn’t been a total success, but it hadn’t been a total failure, either. They hadn’t gotten a chance to check the guest horses, but at least they knew that none of the Pine Hollow horses was wearing barred shoes.
“PANDEMONIUM,” LISA GROANED.
“What?” said Carole.
“Chaos,” Lisa said. “I think I’ll go back to sleep.”
This, however, was not going to be possible. May, Amie, and Jackie were playing keep-away with a riding crop. The game involved a lot of jumping and shrieking. Corey was insisting that a thief had come during the night and stolen her toothbrush.
Lisa sat up, wishing—for only a second—that she was at home in her comfortable bed. But then she saw an amazing sight. Veronica was sitting at her portable dressing table staring at herself in the mirror. There was nothing unusual about this. Veronica spent half her life looking at herself in the mirror. But this morning she was staring at herself in dismay.
Veronica’s hair gel seemed to have attracted every seed and bit of hay in the loft. Her rollers were coated with prickly tidbits.
“Veronica, you look like a giant thistle,” said Stevie cheerfully. “And—to tell you the truth—the look suits you.”
“It’s not my fault,” Veronica said crossly. “If only Pine Hollow had showers.”
Corey and Amie were so amazed by Veronica’s new look that they started dumping hay on each other’s head, yelling, “We want to be beautiful like Veronica.”
With a scornful toss of her head, Veronica picked up her brush, saying, “Some of my best ideas come out of problem situations.”
“This I gotta see,” said Stevie, crossing her arms.
Veronica slipped the rollers out of her hair and began to brush. But the seeds and hay bits had turned Veronica’s hair gel into hair cement. As she brushed, her hair didn’t flatten and fall. It stuck out at weird angles.
“Not even Frankenstein would marry you,” said Corey. “In fact, he’d probably be scared of you.”
Veronica’s face turned pink. “This didn’t happen by accident,” she snapped. “It’s somebody’s fault. I heard people moving around last night.” She glared at Lisa, Stevie, and Carole. “Somebody did this to me, and I think I know who.”
The Saddle Club could hardly explain that they had gone downstairs to inspect horseshoes the night before, so they just shrugged.
The wake-up bell clanged. A minute later Deborah appeared at the head of the stairs. “Feed your horses, and then it will be time for breakfast,” she said. Then she saw Veronica. She blinked hard.
“Are you all right, Veronica?” Deborah asked.
“Of course I’m all right,” said Veronica, rising from her dressing table. “Or rather I would be if this dump had a shower.”
Deborah nodded solemnly. “If only we did, Veronica. But I guess you’re going to have to tough it out.” She turned to the other riders. “Your
horses are hungry. They’re thirsty. Let’s get going.”
“Just like Max,” Stevie grumbled. “Horse care first, people care second.”
Lisa climbed out of her sleeping bag, rolled it up, and changed into her riding clothes. It felt funny to be getting dressed without taking a shower first—her mother would faint with horror if she knew—but it was fun. She went downstairs and waited in line at the bathroom until she got a chance to brush her teeth and give her face a quick wash.
She went to the feed room and forked hay off the end of a bale, filled a bucket with Max’s special mixture of oats, sweet feed, and bran, and went to Prancer’s stall
“I hope we didn’t wake you last night,” she said to Prancer as she lifted the hay into her hay net. She started to explain to her why they’d had to check some of the other horses’ shoes, but then Lisa realized that someone might be listening, so she just shrugged and said, “You know how it is.” She poured the oat mixture into Prancer’s feed bin and said, “Today is going to be really demanding. Think of yourself as a sleuth horse. That means a horse detective.”
She filled Prancer’s water bucket at the tap outside the stall and rehung it on the wall. Prancer was munching happily.
Lisa walked down the aisle and stood stretching at the open door. A misty morning fog covered the paddock in wisps and drifts. Behind it, the woods and hills rose like splashes of brilliant yellow and orange paint. Lisa sighed, thinking how beautiful it was.
On the edge of the woods there was a movement. It must be a deer, she thought, because the deer in these woods are bold. Sometimes at night they came out of the woods and ate whole flowerbeds.
As a puff of wind twirled the mist upward, Lisa strained to see. It wasn’t a deer, it was a person on horseback. Lisa couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a man. The horse was small and gray. The pair turned left. A bit of fog swept across the paddock, and the rider, who was a dark shadow now, edged his horse back toward the trees. Suddenly they bobbed over a jump and disappeared.
Lisa blinked. That couldn’t have been Nickel, could it? she thought.
She turned and walked back down the aisle to Penny’s stall. Inside, Lisa could hear Amie saying, “I’m not going to cry. I’m not. No way. Not me.” Lisa looked over the stall door and saw that Amie had dropped Penny’s fresh hay and was now trying to sweep it up in her arms, but she couldn’t do it. The hay kept falling back to the floor.
“Can I come in?” Lisa said.
“If you like big messes,” Amie said.
Lisa showed Amie how to start at one side of the dropped hay and curl it up like a jelly roll. The hay roll fit neatly in the hay net.
“Where did you learn that?” Amie asked.
“From Carole,” Lisa said. “Not only does she know the big things about horse care, she knows the little ones, too.”
“I’ll never learn,” Amie said.
“You’ve learned a lot already,” Lisa said.
The two of them filled Penny’s water bucket and walked down the aisle to see how Jackie was doing.
Red-faced and frustrated, Jackie was dragging Dime’s water bucket down the aisle. She had filled it too full, and water had sloshed onto her breeches and her boots.
Lisa and Amie were stepping forward to help her when A.J. appeared.
“Heavy bucket?” he asked Jackie.
“No way,” said Jackie bravely.
“You only need half that much water,” A.J. said. He poured half out and gave the bucket back to Jackie.
“Hey,” Jackie said. “I can do it now.” Happily she carried the bucket into Dime’s stall.
A.J. was a nice guy, Lisa thought. If only he didn’t have that moonlight problem …
“Come on,” A.J. said as he and Jackie left the stall. “I’ve heard this wild rumor that Max is making flapjacks.”
Lisa and Amie grinned at each other.
“Max’s Morning Madness,” said Amie happily.
On an outdoor grill Max had set up a flat piece of iron. It was smoking.
“Your thing’s on fire,” Amie said.
“No, it’s not,” Max said. “And this thing is called a griddle.” With a flourish he poured a circle of batter on the griddle. The batter bubbled and then settled down to cook, sending off a nice steamy smell. Max poured a row of batter circles down the griddle, until there were ten. He stood back to look with satisfaction. When bubbles appeared in the center of the first flapjack, he flipped it. The underside was golden brown.
“Awesome,” Amie said. “How do you know when to turn it?”
“When the bubbles in the center don’t fill with wet batter,” he said.
Max moved down the line flipping flapjacks. When he got to the end, he took a pile of paper plates and went back to the head of the line. He waited a minute and then neatly flipped the first flapjack onto a plate, adding a sausage from the frying pan on the other end of the grill.
“How do you know when the flapjack’s done?” Amie said.
“When the edges curl,” Max said.
“I wish I could do that,” Amie said.
“It takes discipline, training, and respect for your materials,” Max said. Everyone smiled because that was the way Max talked about riding.
Max’s mother, who was affectionately known as Mrs. Reg, circulated with forks, butter, syrup, and milk, while Deborah poured orange juice.
“What a breakfast,” Stevie said, closing her eyes, savoring the slightly smoky flavor of the pancakes. “This should be called Max’s Morning Magnificence.”
“It’s delicious,” said Veronica, poking at her flapjack without really eating it.
“What’s the matter, Veronica?” said A.J. “Worried about getting as fat as your hair?”
Veronica had managed to brush most of the seeds and hay out of her hair. She had even added a flippy curl at the bottom. The problem was that her hair was so stiff from all the gel, it stood out in a huge dome around her head.
“You may have to have your hair surgically removed,” A.J. said.
“And then she’d be bald,” Amie said.
For a second the MW riders imagined Veronica totally bald. Amie and Jackie gave each other high fives.
Fifteen minutes later everyone was groaning with satisfaction.
“I can’t move,” Peter said.
“I’ll never eat again,” Jasmine said. “Until lunch, that is.”
Stevie turned to Lisa and said, “I can tell that Jasmine is a true little sister of The Saddle Club. She can’t wait for her next meal.”
“Breakfast was so good I think Max deserves special thanks,” Carole said.
“Thanks, Max,” the riders called out.
“Not that kind of thanks,” said Carole with a grin. “I think we should muck out the horses’ stalls.”
Everybody groaned. But they knew that Carole was right. First thing after breakfast, horses need to have their stalls cleaned.
“It would give Red a break and it would be a way of thanking Max for this great MW,” Carole said.
As soon as the riders had stacked their plates and cups, they headed to the barn.
After Lisa took Prancer to the outdoor ring, she gave her stall a careful picking over. At first Lisa had really hated this part of horse care. But now she enjoyed it because Stevie had shown her a special way of moving the pitchfork in a swinging arc that made it feel lighter. When Lisa was done, she pushed the wheelbarrow out to the manure pile behind the barn and dumped it, then loaded it up with fresh wood chips. Lots of stables used straw for bedding, but Max said wood chips stayed dry longer. And, Lisa thought, they had a nice piney smell.
Lisa emptied the wood chips into the center of Prancer’s stall and smoothed them with the back of her rake. At first this had driven her crazy, because just when she thought she had gotten the stall floor neat and flat, Max would point out that the sides were too high and the center was too low, and then she would have to start again. Stevie had shown her how to scrape down the sides and bu
ild up the center.
When Lisa was done, she led Prancer back to her stall. The horse nickered in appreciation. The best part of mucking out, Lisa thought, was that the horse really liked a clean stall.
As Lisa walked down the aisle, looking for Stevie and Carole, she passed the door to Nickel’s stall. It looked empty and forlorn. Also, it needed cleaning. Sighing, Lisa went back for the wheelbarrow.
As she entered Nickel’s stall, she thought how much like Nickel the stall was. The hay in the net had been neatly nibbled. The wood chips had been tidily pawed. Nickel was not a pony to make a mess or get overexcited, which was one of the things that made him so good for beginning riders.
But there was something odd on the door. Lisa stopped to look. It was a piece of red yarn. Another one! Why hadn’t they seen it the day before? She would have to tell Stevie and Carole about this.
Then something else caught her eye—a spot of white on the hook where Nickel’s feed bucket usually hung. It was a folded piece of paper. Lisa picked it off the hook and opened it. There was a poem inside. The poem didn’t seem to make much sense, but Lisa knew it was a clue. This called for a meeting of The Saddle Club!
Casually Lisa strolled to Starlight’s stall. Carole was giving the six-pointed star on his forehead a brushing.
Lisa whispered, “Come to Nickel’s stall right away.”
“No problem,” Carole whispered.
“I’ll get Stevie and meet you there,” Lisa said.
Carole put down her brush and headed over to Nickel’s stall at a slow walk, whistling as she went.
When Stevie and Lisa arrived, Carole noticed that Lisa’s cheeks were pink with excitement.
“Listen to this,” Lisa whispered, pulling the piece of paper out of her pocket.
East is east, and west is west
Whichever riders are the best
Will know there’s only one place I could be.
Where once there grew a different type of tree
I’ve hidden your pony.
If you should want him back
You’ll need no lack of bravery.
The way is hard, that’s plain to see.
Water twice, and hills to climb
(I don’t know how to rhyme this line!)
Mystery Ride Page 5