The Mystery of the Wild Ponies

by Gertrude Chandler Warner

  The main road was busy, but the children crossed safely. They found a wooden walk that led to the docks.

  Violet caught her breath when she saw the orange sun resting on the horizon. What a great spot to paint!

  “Look!” Benny cried. He pointed to a large brown bird perched on one of the pilings near an older man.

  The man sat on an upturned bait bucket at the end of the dock. He was untangling fishing line. The Aldens walked out to him.

  “Excuse me,” said Jessie. “Is that your pelican?”

  The older man laughed. “He thinks he’s mine. Out here every day, rain or shine, hopin’ to grab my catch.”

  “Are you a fisherman?” asked Violet. With his gray hair, bright blue eyes, and fisherman’s cap, the man looked as at home on the pier as the pelican.

  “I do a little fishin’. I catch a few crabs.” The crinkles around his eyes deepened. “You young folks on vacation?”

  “Yes, sir.” Henry introduced the others and explained that they were staying a week at Gullwing Cottage. “You’re from here, aren’t you?” he guessed.

  “Born and raised here. Name’s Shad Toler.”

  “Shad?” asked Benny. “Is that a name?”

  Jessie nudged her brother. “Benny!”

  “It’s a nickname,” said Shad. “Shad is a kind of fish. My real name is Rupert. I was never fond of it, though. Shad suits me just fine.”

  “Have you always lived on the island?” asked Violet.

  Shad nodded. “Yes. I never saw a reason to leave. Got a piece of land here. People been after me for years to sell. I could make a lot of money if I sold it. But I won’t sell. I don’t need a lot of money. Long as I can fish a little, I’m happy.”

  Henry looked along the shoreline. There were lots of houses on this side of the island.

  “I bet this place has changed since you were a boy,” he observed.

  “Yeah. Can’t stand in the way of progress,” said Shad. “I remember when we didn’t have telephones here. I still don’t have one hooked up. And I went to school in a one-room schoolhouse.”

  “Everybody in just one room?” Benny asked. It sounded very crowded.

  Shad grinned. “At recess, we’d all run up on the dune. It was bigger then. We’d play catch or five-oh. I think you call it hide-and-seek.”

  Jessie imagined growing up on an island. It must have been so much fun!

  “But best of all,” Shad said, “were the wild horses.”

  “Wild horses!” Benny exclaimed. “Are there wild horses here?”

  Shad laughed at Benny’s expression. “Haven’t you seen them? Guess not. The herd pretty much stays north of here, in that new pony pen.” He shook his head. “A shame. Wild animals ought to be free, not locked up.”

  “Why are they in a pen?” Jessie asked, shocked.

  Shad shrugged. “Safer, so they say. The horses like to roam. But they cross that road. In the last few years, some have been hit by cars.”

  “How sad!” said Violet. She hated the idea of any animal being hurt.

  “They built this pen to keep the horses from runnin’ around. I don’t like the idea myself, but it’s supposed to be best for the horses,” said Shad.

  “Can we go see the horses?” Benny wanted to know.

  “You can drive up there,” Shad replied. “Sometimes you get lucky and see them, sometimes not.” Then he lowered his voice and peered at them from under his bushy brows. “But if you’re real lucky, you might see a particular horse.”

  Jessie leaned forward. “Which one?”

  “Name’s Magic. Used to be the leader of the herd.”

  “Used to be?” asked Henry. “What happened?”

  The wind had picked up. Shad gazed out at the choppy waters. Whitecaps danced on the waves.

  “Magic was hit by a car one foggy night,” he said. “Poor animal was killed instantly.” Violet felt a shiver trickle down her spine. “But people can still see him?”

  “Yes,” said Shad. “On certain moonlit nights, if you’re real lucky, you might see the ghost of Magic, runnin’ along the beach. He’s come back to take over his herd.”

  CHAPTER 3

  What Benny Saw

  “A ghost horse!” Benny said excitedly as they walked back to Gullwing Cottage. “Neat!”

  “Now, Benny,” Jessie said gently. “It’s just a story. I bet Mr. Toler likes to tell stories.”

  “But it could be true,” Benny insisted.

  Violet silently agreed with her little brother, even though she knew ghosts didn’t exist. She could imagine the shimmery horse prancing in the moonlight.

  Home again, the children realized they were tired after the long day. Everyone went to bed early.

  In the room he shared with Henry, Benny lay in the top bunk across from his brother and listened to the surf outside. Henry was already asleep.

  Benny thought about climbing down the bunk bed ladder to look out the window. Maybe he’d see Magic, the ghost horse. He’d get down right now, but first he’d just close his eyes for a moment.…

  Instead of moonlight, Benny woke to bright sunshine beaming in his face and the delicious aroma of frying bacon.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” Henry greeted his little brother. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. “Jessie says breakfast is almost ready.”

  Benny didn’t need to be told twice. He was dressed and sitting at the round oak table in a flash.

  Jessie and Grandfather served toasted English muffins, scrambled eggs, bacon, and orange juice.

  “After we’ve cleaned up,” said Grandfather, “we’ll drive to that grocery store in Corolla and buy food for the week.”

  Henry took the big cooler out to the car, for milk and meat that might spoil. When the dishes were done, they all got into the station wagon.

  The road twisted north for several miles. Then Benny spotted a redbrick lighthouse towering over the trees.

  “Look!” he cried.

  “That’s the Currituck Beach Lighthouse,” Grandfather said. “It’s the only lighthouse this far north on the Outer Banks. Because this strip of land is so narrow, storms and hurricanes often do lots of damage.”

  “What about all these houses?” Violet noticed huge houses on either side of the road.

  “Good question,” said Grandfather. “If they are built too close to the ocean, they could be swept out to sea in a really powerful storm.”

  They drove to a shopping center with a large grocery store and, with everyone helping, they got everything they needed in a few minutes.

  At the checkout counter, Grandfather added a copy of the local newspaper. Henry loaded the heavy bags into the back of the car. As they were pulling out, he saw a sign.

  “ ‘The Corolla Wild Horse Sanctuary,’ ” Henry exclaimed. “That must be where the wild horses are kept.”

  “Can we go see them, Grandfather?” Benny asked.

  “Of course. I’ve heard about these horses but have never seen them.”

  The road went from pavement to gravel and then they arrived at a gate that barred the way.

  Violet was disappointed. “I guess we can’t go in after all.”

  A uniformed young man with freckles and red hair was locking the gate. When he heard their car, he turned and smiled.

  “Hello,” he said in a friendly way. “You can get out of the car and watch from the gate if you like.”

  “We were hoping to see the wild horses,” Grandfather said.

  The officer glanced back toward the high dune topped with sea grass. “I only saw a few of them myself this morning. The rest must be on the far side of the sanctuary.” He put out a hand. “I’m Officer Thomas Hyde.”

  “Are you a policeman?” Benny asked in awe, shaking the man’s hand.

  Officer Hyde grinned. “Sanctuary officer. My job is to take care of the horses. I stop traffic if the herd crosses the road, and prevent people from feeding or trying to pet or ride the horses.”

  “I thought the horse
s were penned in,” Henry said. “How can they cross the road?”

  Officer Hyde pointed to the fence on either side of the gate. “Horses naturally want to roam to new grazing areas. They swim around the fence on the ocean side. We can’t fence in the ocean.”

  “What happens if the horses get out?” Jessie wanted to know.

  “I find them,” said Officer Hyde. “I’m in radio contact with the sheriff’s office and an on-call vet. Mainly I protect the herd from tourists. It’s against the law to bother these animals, you know.”

  Benny was hanging on the gate. “I see them!” he cried. “Here they come!”

  Officer Hyde shaded his eyes from the glare of the sun. “This is your lucky day. Once in a while the horses follow me to the gate.”

  Violet held her breath as she waited for the herd to come into view.

  At last several horses ambled over the dune. They were small, with shaggy manes and tails. Most were a reddish-brown color, though some were spotted with white. A couple were coal-black.

  “How cute!” Jessie exclaimed. “They look like ponies!”

  “Many people call them ponies,” said Officer Hyde. “But they are true descendants of Spanish mustangs. They aren’t that small, really. Most are thirteen to fourteen hands high.”

  Benny frowned, holding out his palms. “Hands?”

  Officer Hyde laughed. “It’s an old, easy way to measure things. A hand equals four inches. Horses are generally eighteen hands high.”

  “Here, sweetie.” Violet tried to coax over a chestnut-brown horse with a white face. The horse had big brown eyes fringed with long lashes.

  “Please remember these are not friendly animals,” Officer Hyde warned her. “They look cute, but they may bite and kick.”

  They watched the horses nibble on grass. Officer Hyde told them there were actually two pony herds on the Outer Banks. The other herd was penned on Okracoke Island. When more people started coming to the Banks, the herd split and migrated to the northern and southern ends, he explained as he glanced at his watch.

  Grandfather smiled. “You must have other duties. Thanks for talking to us.”

  “Anytime,” said Officer Hyde, walking over to his Jeep. “Here’s a brochure about the sanctuary. You can reach me at the lighthouse if you have any more questions.”

  The kids waved good-bye.

  “He’s nice,” said Violet.

  Benny agreed. “I want to be a pony policeman.”

  “What about the Coast Guard?” Henry teased.

  “That, too.” Benny planned to have lots of jobs when he grew up.

  At the cottage, they unpacked the groceries. Henry picked up the newspaper.

  “Here’s a story about the ponies,” he said.

  The others gathered around the table. Henry held up the newspaper and read the story aloud. They learned that the horses were brought to the island in 1523 by Spanish explorers and that there were only nineteen horses in the Corolla herd.

  “No wonder they are special,” Violet commented. “But it’s sad so many have been hit by cars.”

  “That’s why the sanctuary was started,” said Jessie. “It seems mean to pen them up, but at least they’re safer.”

  Benny was looking at the pictures in the newspaper as the others talked about wild ponies. Wow, he thought, what is that? It was a picture of some kids at summer camp, but one of the boys wore a necklace with one large, sharp, triangle-shaped tooth hanging from it. Benny wondered what kind of tooth it was and where he might find one, until his stomach started grumbling and his thoughts turned to food.

  The kids fixed a quick lunch of turkey sandwiches, apple juice, and cookies. Then they changed into bathing suits and walked over the dune to the beach.

  First they splashed in the waves. Then they wet some sand above the high-tide line and built a huge castle. Next they hunted for shells.

  Jessie spied a familiar figure on the dune behind them. “There’s Winifred Gorman. She’s painting.”

  “Oh, let’s go see!” said Benny.

  He ran off before Jessie could stop him. Jessie knew some artists didn’t like other people peering at their work. Winifred Gorman did not seem happy to see the Aldens.

  “I’m not on public display,” she said grumpily. “I’m working.” She tossed her brush down with a sigh.

  Violet studied the seascape. “It’s very nice, only—”

  “Only what?” Winifred said sharply.

  “It’s just waves and beach,” Violet said nervously. “Maybe you could put in some people or animals. Like the wild horses.”

  Winifred considered her suggestion. “Hmmm. I forgot about those wild ponies. My real estate agent mentioned them when I bought this house.”

  “You live here?” Benny wanted to know.

  “No, not year-round. I live in New York City. This is my first summer here.” She became impatient again. “Where are those ponies you mentioned? I must paint them while the light is good.”

  Henry pointed north. “The sanctuary is that way. You can’t miss it.”

  The artist snatched her canvas off the easel, grabbed her tackle box of paints and brushes, and hurried off.

  The children were stretched out on their deck when they heard Winifred Gorman’s car pull into the driveway next door.

  Benny ran to the railing. “Did you see the ponies?” he called.

  Her car door slammed angrily. “No, I did not,” she said stiffly. “I drove all the way up there and stood outside that stupid gate for ages. But did any of them show up? No!”

  “We saw them this morning,” said Violet. “They’re really cute.”

  “Well, that makes me feel better,” Winifred said sharply. “How am I going to paint a horse I can’t see?” The artist stomped up the steps into her house.

  “Boy, is she grouchy,” Benny commented.

  “She just wants to paint a good picture,” Violet said. “Mmm! What’s that smell?”

  Benny knew that smell. “Hamburgers!”

  Grandfather was grilling hamburgers on the deck. Jessie added potato salad, applesauce, and a coconut cake from the store bakery.

  Full and pleasantly tired from their day in the sun, the Aldens once again went to bed early.

  Benny and Henry chatted awhile.

  “What will happen to my sand castle?” Benny asked.

  “The tide might wash it away,” Henry replied, yawning. “But we can build another one tomorrow.” Then he fell asleep.

  Benny lay awake, thinking about his sand castle. He wondered if he could see it from the window. Was the moat filled with water?

  Climbing down the ladder, he dropped softly to the floor. He didn’t want to wake Henry.

  The window was open, letting in the sound of the surf. Benny leaned on the sill, straining to see in the darkness.

  A silver-dollar moon had risen above the ocean, shining on the beach. Benny noticed a light still on in Winifred Gorman’s house.

  Was she looking at the moon, too? he wondered.

  Suddenly Benny heard a strange cry. It sounded like it came from the dune! As he turned his head, he caught a glimpse of something on the beach.

  It was a horse, its shiny coat gleaming in the pale moonlight. The animal pawed the sand, nodding its proud head. Then it cantered out of sight down the beach.

  Benny swallowed. “Magic,” he whispered. “The famous ghost horse.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “Don’t Tell Grandfather!”

  “I saw Magic,” Benny declared the next morning.

  The other children stopped fixing breakfast and stared at him. Grandfather had left for an early-morning exercise class at the Seagull Resort.

  “You saw what?” asked Henry.

  “Magic, the ghost horse. He was on the beach. And I heard a cry.”

  “The horse cried?” Violet set bowls of granola and sliced peaches on the table.

  “No,” said Benny. “It sounded like a person. But I didn’t see anybody. Only the hors
e.”

  Jessie frowned as she brought over a pitcher of cold milk. “Benny, are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”

  “I got up to look at my sand castle. I saw a horse. It has to be the ghost horse Shad told us about,” he insisted.

  “There’s one way to solve this,” said Henry. “After breakfast, we’ll go down to the beach and check for prints in the sand. If the tide’s right, they won’t have been washed away.”

  Benny had never eaten so fast. He wanted to prove he had really seen the ghost horse.

  When the bowls and glasses were rinsed, the kids headed outside.

  It was a great morning. The sun was shining brightly over the slate-blue ocean. A man with a metal detector swept the beach, looking for coins and jewelry. Benny’s sand castle was still there, untouched.

  Nearby, where Benny had wet the sand to build his castle, the kids saw the fresh shoe prints of a jogger.

  Benny’s heart dropped. Suppose the jogger messed up the horse’s prints.

  Then Violet exclaimed, “Look!” She pointed to a small, scooped impression in the sand.

  Henry let out a low whistle. “Here’s another one. Benny was right. A horse was definitely on our beach.”

  “I think we should call Officer Hyde,” said Jessie. “He’ll know for certain.”

  They ran back to the cottage and phoned the lighthouse. Officer Hyde answered and said he would be there shortly.

  Violet remembered Grandfather would be having a late breakfast at the Seagull Resort with the rest of his class.

  “Let’s not mention it to Grandfather,” she said. “He said he wanted a vacation from mysteries anyway.”

  “We didn’t go looking for this mystery,” Henry put in. “It found us!”

  When Thomas Hyde arrived, he was eager to see the hoofprints. The children led him to the beach and the trail of prints.

  The sanctuary officer knelt down to study the impressions. “These are definitely the tracks of a horse, maybe even a stallion,” he said. “And you said you saw the horse?”

  “Last night,” Benny replied. “Maybe it was the ghost of that horse that was killed.”

  Thomas straightened up with a sigh and a smile. “So you’ve heard the legend of Magic. Benny, I believe you saw a horse. But ghost horses wouldn’t leave tracks.”