They were sailing across the log when she saw the man on the gray horse crashing down the trail ahead of her. He disappeared into a stand of hemlock trees.
Lisa and Prancer came flying over the log, followed by Carole and Starlight.
“He’s just ahead,” Stevie said. “In the trees.”
They trotted to the edge of the trees and saw the man at the far side of the grove. He must have heard them, because he urged the gray horse into a gallop.
“We can’t let him get away,” Stevie said. “Let’s gallop.”
Trotting beside her, Lisa shook her head. “Prancer might go crazy,” she said, Prancer was an ex-racehorse. Lisa had never ridden her all out, and she had promised Max that she wouldn’t until he gave her permission.
Stevie looked at Carole. But Carole shook her head. “Horse honor,” she shouted. Her words seemed to get lost in the trees.
“My saddle,” Stevie groaned, but she knew Carole was right.
Stevie, Lisa, and Carole trotted out of the hemlock grove, past a creek bed filled with rocks, and up a rise where the trail turned slippery and treacherous. They slowed to a walk. At the top of the rise they looked at a winding upland trail. The ground was dry, so there were no tracks. Up ahead was a fork in the trail.
“No tracks,” said Stevie forlornly. She wished that they had taken a chance and galloped.
“I haven’t seen any yarn in a while,” said Lisa.
“We’ll just have to guess,” said Carole. She was feeling guilty, wondering if maybe it would have been all right if they had galloped a bit.
“Let’s go left,” said Stevie without conviction.
Listlessly the horses turned left. They could tell that their riders were discouraged. Belle looked over her shoulder, back toward Pine Hollow, and Stevie knew that she was thinking about an afternoon nap.
“I just thought of something,” Stevie said. When Lisa and Carole turned, they saw that Stevie was pale.
“The rider wasn’t wearing red.” Stevie realized that her worst fears had come true. Her saddle was gone, and the person who had taken it wasn’t playing by the rules of the game.
“CHEER UP,” AMIE said to Stevie. “If you keep trying, you’re bound to make progress with the mystery.”
Great, Stevie thought, I’m being given advice by a little kid. But she knew that Amie meant well, so she said, “Thanks, Amie. I appreciate your concern.”
Amie patted Stevie on the shoulder and said, “Don’t feel bad.”
Stevie felt terrible. She and Lisa and Carole had totally lost the trail, and then the lunch bell rang. Now she felt as if she’d never see her saddle again.
Mrs. Reg passed Stevie a cup of chili. “It’s my five-alarm chili,” Mrs. Reg said.
Stevie looked at the chili with concern. She didn’t like fiery food.
“Minus four alarms,” Mrs. Reg said with a smile. “In other words, this is one-alarm chili.”
“That’s what I like,” Stevie said. She slid the relish tray toward her so she could add cheddar cheese chunks, cucumber slices, bits of onion, and sour cream. Now that she thought of it, the crumbled egg looked good, too. And then she added some lettuce strips. And bacon bits. “Is this all?” she asked.
“I ran out of snails,” said Mrs. Reg with a laugh.
At the mention of snails a large “yeeeeeew” went up from the riders.
“But I have some octopus in the refrigerator,” Mrs. Reg said.
“That’s okay,” Stevie said. “Let’s save the octopus for our midnight snack.” She went back to the rock where Carole and Lisa were sitting.
“What a bummer,” Lisa said. Lisa was usually so neat, but now her wavy light brown hair was escaping from her ponytail, she’d gotten a smudge on her forehead, and there was a streak of mud on the knee of her breeches. All three of them were tired and frustrated, and so were their horses.
“We have to think,” Lisa said. “There must be a solution to this problem.”
“I’ve decided to give up thinking,” Stevie said. “It just makes me feel worse.”
“The way I see it is this,” said Lisa, keeping her voice low so that the other riders couldn’t hear. “If the rider we saw was the one who stole Nickel, then he should have been wearing red. That red yarn has got to be one of Max’s clues. A rider might snag his sweater in a horse stall, but no one leaves piece after piece of yarn in trees.”
“It’s just like Max to plant a lot of clues to make sure the younger riders don’t miss out,” Stevie said.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Carole said.
“So why wasn’t the rider we saw wearing red?” Lisa asked. She looked carefully from Stevie to Carole, wondering if they were thinking what she was thinking.
“It’s creepy,” Stevie said softly.
“It’s crawly,” said Carole.
But Lisa had to keep going to the end of her thought. “The man who was riding away from us was a real thief, not a pretend thief. He’s not part of the Mystery Weekend.”
“So if he’s a real thief, and not Max’s thief …,” Carole said slowly.
Stevie turned pale. “It means all of my suspicions were right. My saddle was really stolen.”
“How can a man on horseback steal a saddle?” Carole said practically. “There’s no way he could carry it.”
Lisa’s eyes grew large. “That’s easy,” she whispered. “He took the saddle this morning, right before I saw him riding away.”
“He rode up bareback, stole my saddle, and rode away on it,” said Stevie.
“It’s so simple,” said Lisa softly. “The woods around here are filled with trails and bridle paths. It’d be so easy for him to disappear.”
“Those hoofbeats we heard on Thursday were probably him,” Carole said.
“He was casing Pine Hollow. He was figuring out how to rob it,” Stevie said.
They shivered.
“If someone sees a rider on the trail, they don’t think anything of it,” Carole said.
“That’s right,” Stevie said thoughtfully. “These woods are part of the state park. Anyone can ride in them.”
“It’s kind of brilliant, when you think of it,” said Lisa.
“Too brilliant, if you ask me,” Stevie said. “What kind of lunkheaded thief would ride a horse that leaves bar-heeled shoe prints all over the trails? Or steal a saddle from a stable that just happens to be jam-packed with kids?”
“You mean you think there’s more than one mystery in this MW?” asked Carole.
“That’s exactly what I think,” said Stevie. “Max is even more devious than we imagined.” At least I hope he is, she added silently to herself.
Stevie looked into her cup of chili. Somehow, during this totally upsetting conversation, she had eaten it all. She went and got another helping and came back.
“I want my saddle back now—not tomorrow afternoon,” Stevie said miserably.
“Don’t worry,” Lisa said firmly. “And after lunch we’re going to go back and find the thief.”
After lunch, and after their horses had a chance to rest, they set off on the trail again, but this time they were quiet and thoughtful.
The sky had changed. Now it was gray and flat, with hawks skimming low under the clouds. It was as if winter were just over the horizon.
When they got back to the fork where they’d lost the thief, they sat on their horses trying to decide where to go.
“Which way?” said Lisa, looking from one branch of the trail to the other.
“You know,” said Carole suddenly, “I think I remember where we are. This isn’t a fork, really—it’s a loop. It goes back to the edge of a county road, follows it for a while, and then circles back. So we don’t have to make a choice.”
“We still have to pick one way,” Lisa pointed out.
Carole nodded to the right fork. “That way you have to cross the stream again and go through an apple orchard. It’s a long way to the road. This way,” she went on, pointin
g to the left, “you come to the road more quickly, and I think there’s an empty farmhouse with a barn.”
“A farmhouse!” Stevie said. “Maybe that’s where the thief is hiding out.”
“Let’s hope,” Lisa said with a quaver in her voice.
The three looked at one another. For the first time it struck them that they could be chasing someone who was dangerous.
“We have to be quiet.”
“Like mice,” Stevie agreed, “except quieter. That’s not easy for horses.” She looked at Carole, who was the best rider.
Carole took the lead, wondering if she was up to this. She knew how to get Starlight over a jump, and how to do a counter-canter, and how to pirouette to the right. But how do you get a horse to be quiet?
Carole made her hands light and her seat light. Starlight took a couple of prancing steps, which sent up a spray of gravel. “Easy,” Carole whispered. “Walk softly.” Somehow Starlight got the idea. He advanced forward with slow, delicate steps. Behind her, Carole heard Prancer and Belle slip into the same delicate rhythm.
The landmarks on the trail passed slowly. First there was a stand of lady’s slippers with pulpy yellow stems and delicate red flowers. And then there was a fallen log with wedges of white fungus.
The path disappeared around a grove of white birches. Carole listened to Starlight’s breathing. It was peaceful, almost sleepy. As Starlight rounded the birch trees Carole saw a weather-beaten house and barn just beyond the edge of the woods.
Carole raised her hand for Lisa and Stevie to stop. They had to find cover so they could observe the barn. There was a bunch of giant rhododendron bushes with long, leathery leaves to the right. The normal thing would have been to circle into it, but Carole couldn’t do that. It would have been too obvious. She had to get Starlight to back into the bushes.
Horses don’t like to move backward. They especially don’t like to back into things like bushes. Carole pulled gently on Starlight’s reins. Starlight stepped back, using the same soft tread. When the rhododendron leaves brushed his flanks, he shivered.
“Easy, easy,” Carole whispered.
Starlight stepped tentatively backward, and the leaves parted. In four steps he was safe in the center of the bushes.
“You’re great,” Carole whispered, reaching down to stroke his neck.
Prancer was shaking her head from side to side. The idea of creeping backward into a stand of bushes was not something that appealed to the former racehorse.
Lisa rubbed Prancer’s neck. She was the most complicated and special horse she’d ever ridden. “You can do it,” she whispered.
Lisa pulled gently on Prancer’s reins. Prancer moved into the bushes like a champion.
“Now you,” Stevie whispered to Belle. “If they can do it, you can.” Belle was stubborn. She loved games, but she also loved to have her own way. She pawed at the soft earth, but then she relaxed and stepped back into the bushes, too.
“I know where we are,” Lisa whispered. “I’ve seen this house from the road. I know which road it is, too.”
“Good,” Stevie whispered.
“There’s a car in front of the house,” Carole whispered. “So there’s probably someone home.”
“If he isn’t out stealing saddles,” said Stevie bitterly.
A few minutes later they heard it—the sound of someone whistling, a cheery sound. Stevie tried to identify the tune and realized that it was “Oh! Susannah.”
A man appeared with his hands in the pockets of a blue hacking jacket. He went into the ramshackle barn and came back in a moment, leading a bridled gray horse.
The man sprang lightly up onto the horse’s bare back, and headed …
… straight toward The Saddle Club!
LISA, STEVIE, AND Carole couldn’t move. They couldn’t speak. They looked at each other, their eyes full of terror. But at the last minute the rider veered left and headed into the woods.
“That was close,” Stevie whispered.
“What happens when you faint on horseback?” Lisa said.
“Your nose winds up in the horse’s mane,” Carole said.
“Let’s go search the barn,” Stevie said. “It’s bound to be full of clues. And maybe even my saddle.”
Lisa didn’t agree. “If your saddle’s there now, it’ll be there later. I bet that thief is on his way to steal another saddle. We have to stop him.”
Reluctantly Stevie looked at the barn. She wanted her saddle. She wanted to put it on Belle’s back. But she knew that Lisa was right. A crime was almost certainly about to be committed, and it was up to The Saddle Club to stop it.
They turned onto the trail.
“Look,” said Stevie grimly. She pointed to hoofprints on the ground. The gray horse was wearing bar-heeled shoes!
“Full speed ahead,” said Stevie. But then, not quite sure that this was a good idea, she turned to Carole and said, “Right?”
Even at such a serious moment Carole had to smile. Stevie was so filled with contradictions.
“The trail is clear, so we don’t have to worry about losing it,” Carole said. “And the ground is soft, so the horses won’t make much noise. And the wind is blowing back toward us, so we can hear the thief, but he can’t hear us. So, yes, full speed ahead!”
Stevie urged Belle to trot. She lengthened the reins to give Belle headroom and felt the mare’s pace lengthen, her steps beginning to glide.
Ahead Stevie could hear the faint clop of hooves. Through the trees came a whinny. It was high-pitched, excited-sounding.
Over her shoulder Stevie said, “Something’s happened. Let’s go.” She pressed her heels down, getting ready to give Belle the signal to gallop.
“What if he sees us?” Lisa whispered.
Over her shoulder Stevie gave her a fierce look. “This time I’m galloping,” she said. “I’m catching up to him.”
Belle took off, her feet pounding into the soft earth, sending up bits of leaves and grass. Carole, riding behind her, had to duck to avoid the spray.
Up ahead was a turn in the road. “Faster,” said Stevie. Belle stretched her legs, running in a smooth, even gait that showed her championship style.
Stevie braced herself as they went into the turn. It was like a racetrack, she thought. They were about to enter the homestretch.
Belle rounded the corner. Ahead, the gray horse was trying to escape into the woods. The thief was yanking the reins and struggling as the horse whinnied shrilly.
What was making the gray horse so crazy? To the left the woods thinned. Beyond that was a small apple orchard with very old, neglected, half-dead trees. On the other side of the orchard, an abandoned shed sat in the middle of a clearing. From behind the shed came a whinny.
The gray horse plunged and bucked, trying to head toward the shed. His rider leaned back, sawing cruelly on the reins. The horse reared, his front legs pawing the air. Panicked, the rider leaned forward and pounded the horse’s neck. That did it. The gray horse crashed into the woods, toward the orchard.
Carole and Lisa came cantering around the corner and pulled up next to Stevie.
“Where’d he go?” Lisa said.
“He’s lost control of his horse,” Stevie said. “He’s crashing around in the woods somewhere. No way am I going after him. Belle could get hurt.”
“It’s good to see you can think of your horse at a moment like this,” Carole said. But then she got a funny look on her face. “You know, I have the feeling this place has something to do with the ransom poem. ‘Where once there grew a different kind of tree, I’ve hidden your pony,’ ” she recited.
“What?” Stevie said.
“When you plant an orchard, you have to cut down forest trees,” Lisa said thoughtfully.
“So here there used to be a different kind of tree,” said Stevie.
“And if we’d come from the other direction, we could have crossed the creek again. That’s ‘water twice,’ ” Carole said.
“Maybe the r
iddle does make sense,” Stevie said.
From behind the shed came a loud whinny.
“That’s Nickel,” Lisa said, her eyes widening. “I’d know his whinny anywhere.”
“Looks like we solved the riddle,” Stevie said with a grin. “I guess the best team won.”
Suddenly, from the far side of the clearing, they heard a commotion on the trail. The wind carried the distant sound of shrieking and giggling to The Saddle Club.
Jackie, Amie, and Jessica appeared, followed by Max.
“It’s Max,” Stevie said to Carole and Lisa. “Let’s go tell him what we found.” Carole and Lisa nodded, and the three hurried their horses through the thin woods. As they neared the orchard they could hear the younger riders chattering.
“We win!” Amie said. “We solved the mystery. Right, Max? Right? There’s Nickel. We followed the red yarn and now we’re here.”
“It seems you’re right,” said Max.
“We’re champions,” said Jessica. “We’re number one.”
A young man walked out from behind the shed, leading Nickel. It was Phil!
Stevie’s jaw dropped open, and she pulled Belle to a halt. Carole and Lisa stopped next to her.
“That sneak,” Stevie whispered. “That liar, that creep. He’s been here all weekend. His grandmother wasn’t even sick. And I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. I don’t want him to see me here. He’ll laugh himself sick.”
Lisa and Carole looked at Stevie with sympathy. First her saddle was stolen, and now this.
Phil was wearing a bright red sweater—and it had only one arm!
“Phil,” cried Amie delightedly. “You’re the crook.”
“None other,” said Phil, bowing. “You caught me red-handed.”
“And red-sweatered,” said Jackie.
Suddenly, Stevie remembered the familiar figure in red she had spotted at Pine Hollow on the first morning of the MW. It must have been Phil slinking around, she thought, groaning. She watched as Phil waved to Max.
“I guess Nickel could use some attention,” Max said to Amie, Jackie, and Jessica. “Although Phil’s been taking good care of him, I bet he’s feeling kind of lonely.”
Mystery Ride Page 7